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octuscle · 2 years ago

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Hey Support!

I'm a Highschool teacher. Many of my adult students are speaking Arabic while I'm teaching them. It annoys me that I didn't understand them talking and laughing. So I downloaded the chronivac app and wanted to change that I also speak and understand arabic. Something gone wong because I fill my English and German are getting more bed. And I feel the urge to pray 5 on a day... And ma skin colour change

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Thursday evening 8:00 p.m.: As usual, you sit in front of the TV after dinner. First the news. Then a crime thriller. Okay, you could use the evening differently. But at the latest when you turned 40 two years ago, you became more domestic. You like to cook. You like crime thrillers. What's the problem? Interesting question… Somehow the thriller doesn't really grab you today. After an hour, you turn off the TV, pick up your cell phone, and study a lesson or two of Arabic before you go to bed.

Friday morning, 6:00 a.m.: It sucks that the gym your students recommended is so far from your townhouse. And it's not exactly on the way to school, either. But for almost a year now, you've been making your way there in the morning. Your discipline and the success of your training have definitely earned you the respect of your students. Only they still make fun of your broken Arabic. At least they are more careful to speak Arabic in your presence. They know that you already understand a lot.

Because most of your students are Muslims, you finish class early today. Not without giving homework for Sunday. Carrot and stick. You have a reputation as a strict and fair teacher. And you take advantage of Friday afternoon to go for a long bike ride.

Saturday morning, 8:00 a.m.: For three years now, it has been a tradition that you are the first customer of your Turkish barber on Saturday. The full program for beard, hair and face. The conversation turns once again to your Turkish great-grandmother. Wouldn't she turn over in her grave, that you speak quite good Arabic. But not a word of Turkish. Laughing, you ask to change the subject. You can vaguely remember Turkish lullabies. But you can't learn another foreign language.

With your beard freshly trimmed and your undercut in shape, you head to the studio. On Saturday, most of your students are also here early to pump themselves into shape for Saturday night. Sure, you could easily be the father of even your oldest students. But you are definitely the coolest teacher at the school. That's why you're allowed to go smoke a shisha with your students after the workout. And as usual, you stay in the café after your students have moved on. You enjoy your tea and chat with the host.

Sunday morning, 06:00: You don't go to the gym on Sundays. But you start the day with a long run through the city park. It's a matter of honor that you run bare-chested. Yes, you are 37 years old, but the hard training of the last years has given you a really crisp body. And you love to do some pull-ups with it in the open-air gym in the park. And you love it even more when you hear some appreciative remarks from the mostly Arab brothers here. A few know you, of course, but most wouldn't guess that you speak fluent Arabic. After the shower, you prepare the next week's lessons and correct exams. In the afternoon, two of your students come for math tutoring. You have adopted a bit of the weekly rhythm of your predominantly Muslim students, and Sunday is becoming more and more like a workday for you.

Monday morning, 5:00 a.m.: If you want to go to the barber before school, you have to get up earlier - especially when it's raining cats and dogs like today. You can forget about cycling. And with bus and subway the way takes even longer. But to skip the training? Or to go to school with your neck not freshly shaved? Unthinkable! And like every day, a few of your students are in the studio with you. You are a role model for most of them. Also because you respect their religion even as an infidel. This has also earned you a lot of respect among your colleagues. With no other teacher do the otherwise testosterone-driven young men cooperate as well as with you!

Tuesday evening, 8:00 p.m.: You love to let your tuned Audi roar in front of the shisha bar in the evening. Sure, you had to go into debt for the car. But when you see the guests craning their necks at you, it's worth it. Just like it was worth every minute at the gym when the waiter raises his eyebrows respectfully at the sight of your biceps. It's your 32nd birthday. For ten years you've been working hard for your body and your career. You're celebrating today in your favorite bar. With friends, family, your students and a few colleagues. They are rather skeptical about you. But those who are there get along with your German as well as your Turkish and Turkmen cousins. Although five of your eight great-grandparents have a Muslim background, you are still socialized as a Christian. But you are cultural tolerance in action. And people who have no understanding for this have no place in your environment.

Wednesday, 7:30 a.m.: Your car rolls into the teachers' parking lot, freshly polished. Your muscles are freshly pumped up. The day can come. Your colleagues complain that you live in a small two-room apartment in one of the worst neighborhoods in the city, but drive a sports car for EUR 150,000. All envious. Have no style. And besides, the apartment is perfect for you. Gym, Shisha, Barber… Everything directly in front of the door. And why do you need a big apartment? You can meet friends at the gym or over a shisha. And you prefer to correct your exams directly at school. Your colleagues are all weaklings anyway…

In the evening you smoke a shisha with some lads from the gym. It's almost 8:00 pm. The transformation has been going on for six days. Five of your great-grandparents are already from the Arab environment. And as you take a deep drag from the shisha, the sixth of your ancestors also becomes Arab. Your mother has a Turkish mother and a Turkmen father. Your father has a Moroccan father and a German mother. Three quarters of your roots are Muslim. And you are becoming, as you exhale, a good Muslim. And the improvement of your genetics makes your eyebrows bushier, your beard thicker and your hair darker. Yes, you still carry genes of the infidel in you. But you are an Arabian stallion.

Thursday, 04:30: You like the summer. Sunrise prayer is lovely early, so you can perfectly combine sports, barbering and an early start to work afterwards. Before work you have to go to the principal's office. Parents of non-Muslims have complained again. That too much Arabic is spoken in class. And that the break times are based on prayer times. Once again you pull the tolerance and diversity joker. And you point to your successes in integrating difficult cases into the classroom. And at the same time you knead the bulge in your pants. You know that the principal can't refuse you any wish. Not even the wish that you can't start the day without having cum. The conversation ends with the principal blowing you on all fours while you sit wide-legged in his chair.

Friday, 14:00: Your transformation is actually finished. In a few hours, your last German genes will be replaced by Moroccan ones. You are 26 years old. You have lived in Berlin since you were ten years old. You have had to make your way as an immigrant child. But just because you speak fluent German, Arabic, Turkish, Turkmen and French, you left the infidels behind early on. At school, in sports and also at university. Actually, you always thought that teachers were complete losers. Nevertheless, you let yourself be persuaded to study math and sports to become a teacher. You are now 26 years old and have completed your teacher training. You are the secret weapon for classes with young men from immigrant backgrounds. They accept a fellow believer with big upper arms. And even the other lads in your class emulate your example.

Tank tops in your classes are standard. Arabic is obligatory as the language of instruction in physical education. Attendance at noon prayer is mandatory for Muslims, morning and afternoon prayer is optional. And Muslims don't blow, Muslims get blown. At least once a day. But don't worry… Whether it's in the principal's office, the teachers' lounge, or the locker room in the gym, you can always find an infidel to do it!

Hot pic found @tufas

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #tank top #male transformation #race change #muscle transformation #age reduction

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spork-supremacy · 4 months ago

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The least hear me out you've ever heard me out

but just Jay and Nya becoming some form of primary mentors or if you want to, have them as adoptive parent (that is after the inevitable memory gain) to Sora specifically

Nya already was paired off with her a lot during season 1 of DR

All three know the struggle of intense identity issues for years.

Both adults felt abandoned by their parents, either while as a child or after finding out later in life despite either hoping or knowing it was for their own good. And Sora was disowned by her own parents, their beliefs chosen over her.

They could both comfort her after losing Arin (assuming he isn't found already) because they know what it's like to lose a best friend after making the wrong descisions that felt right in the moment e.g Jay beating up Cole out of jealousy or Nya considering other options even when in a relationship because she was second guessing her choices. (Just the entire love triangle thing. I so believe that Jay was Nya's best friend outside of her brother when she moved in, even when they were dating and I'm dying on that hill because of the little screen time she gets with anyone that isn't those two, or a ten year old that more becomes her little brother and an old dude.)

Lessons could be given over building tech or fixing cars. They even have little competitions to see who could do the best original work or make the most improvements to an old one.

Jay has the most extensive weapon catalogue and could help her choose which primary one she would like to work with. As well as maybe try to expose her to several of his many side hobbies.

Nya can teach her how to deal with perfectionism and not feeling strong with your own element in those times that Sora's still having doubts about her capabilities despite being tournement champion.

Maybe they can try teaching her spinjitzu outside of Lloyd's scheduled training and show what worked for them (It's definetly helpful that one of them was the first to learn it.)

I'm not saying once she achieves it they both would be like "whoo, I taught her that!" but they totally would.

like imagine how proud they would be once she goes from learning spinjitzu to reaching her full potential after working through whatever her primary issue is (I still don't know exactly maybe it would be something to do with a need to fix things or take over because you don't have the fullest faith in the capabilities of others and learning to trust others to do it or fix the issue themselves. It's been a long time since I've seen season 1 so just spitballing with what season 2 gave me)

I have a vision and I hope I'm making it very clear.

I like this vision very much.

If you want try throwing in a wlid Jordana.

However it's quite hard when someone made her possessed the entire time Jay was with the wolf clan and we didn't have him interacting with anyone that isn't Ras.

Yes I'm still salty even if I've known for months. The lost dynamics can never be salvaged into canon.

#originally was thinking about how tech and lightning powers align but they just both happen to seem to fall under the “energy catagory”#so no real “harness that welling up inside you” moment like lloyd had despite how nice of a moment that would be #unfortunately lightning is more zappy zap #and tech is just masterbuilding #ninjago #jay walker #ninjago jay #nya smith #sora ninjago #ninjago jaya #ninjago nya #I'm probably so late to this headcanon #I just really want Sora to have parental figures better than her own #Lloyd is a good teacher but he could never fill that role #I know people can be sick of making mentors automatic parents in fandom culture however I think it's very important for a CHILD that #still needs something close

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strawwritesfic · 5 months ago

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Joel x Female!Amputee!Reader: (Don't) Hold Your Breath [Ch. 11]

Summary: You’ve made a lot of monumental mistakes in your life. Cutting your arm off isn’t even at the top of the list. Now you’re about to learn a lot of life lessons at the hands of your savior and her brute of a guardian–and they’re not about to let you learn them the easy way either.

Challenge: "#32 in His Rulebook" by Edible Heart Monster on Lunaescence Archives

Rating/Warnings/Tags: M (post-The Last of Us; excessive swearing; sexual references; violence against children; infected children; references to abortion; references to cannibalism; references to starvation; references to riots; implied domestic abuse; implied grooming; implied sexual relationship between an adult and a minor; death of a parent; violence; gore; blood; gun use; ableism; amputee!Reader; enemies to lovers; not canon compliant)

Pairings/Relationships: Joel/Female!Reader; Tommy/Maria; Reader/Male!OC; Ellie & Reader; Ellie & Joel; Ellie & Maria & Tommy

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Master List (with important note!)

Rule #11: If you get badly burned, let me put some ice on it for God's sake.

It took another day and a half to get out of the quarantine zone, and another week after that to lose the gang tracking you. By the time Ellie popped a bullet through the last man’s eye, you were well and truly lost. Joel and Ellie might have known how to get back to Jackson, but you didn’t, and they were in no hurry to share with you. Aching and stinking, you had no choice but to trudge after them day after day, watching the sky turn pink night after night.

The lack of pursuit did improve the trek somewhat. At last, your pack, having been emptied by your previous travel buddies, had been filled. A gas mask hung from one strap. That had come in handy just earlier that day. Less importantly, but perhaps better on the added cheer front, you were allowed a fire.

Not that Joel was happy about it. Fires meant people, animals, and related things could find you. But snow remained in purple-white piles against the trees from the fall that morning and a hard freeze linger in the air. Sometimes you had to pick your poison.

Heat didn’t seem like much of an antidote at somewhere around five in the morning anyway. Huddled as you might close to the flames, poke as you did at the tinder with the rusted remains of a coat hanger, you shivered violently underneath your worn coat. You supposed you should have just been grateful one of those hunters had even had a coat your size to steal. Somehow, you were not.

It might have been several days since you bashed that man’s head in, but your muscles hadn’t forgotten. Long gone was the body used to cross-country running for the track team, to carrying a broken ten-year-old for miles every day. The adrenaline drained quickly away and left your remaining arm near-useless. The day after, you hadn’t been able to move it at all. Even now, you had to concentrate not to grimace simply stirring the instant coffee in your camping pot.

“Shit,” you whispered as the dented spoon slipped from your fingers again. For a moment, you didn’t bother to pick it up. Instead, you wrapped what limbs you had left around your torso and scowled up at the sky. You didn’t know what was worse at that point: the phantom pain in your lost arm, or the real pain in the one you still had.

The coffee would probably taste like piss, which only served to disappoint you farther. Sure, you’d snapped at Ellie about not needing a machine to make coffee, but fuck if you yourself knew how to do it otherwise. Back in the day, you went to a Starbucks for your caffeine fix. No one ever asked you to do it yourself. Still, even you could figure out that hot water and coffee grounds did not a beverage make.

Another annoyance of the cordyceps apocalypse: You could no longer tell time, not precisely. The watch you’d taken with you to the California zone had long since died. Before that, it hadn’t taken long for cell phones to become useless. At night in a forest, you couldn’t see the moon. Not that telling time was a particularly important survival skill, but your inability to do so rankled even more in your current condition.

It must have been nearing dawn, though, because you heard something move. You stiffened for only a moment before you saw Joel sitting up. His face was difficult to read, dark as your surroundings were and with your eyes filled with the light from the fire. It could not be Ellie, though; the shadow was too large. It didn’t move right to be non-human either. The realization that you knew the thing moving did not cause the tension in your shoulders to lessen.

Maybe he sensed that, although for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why the hell your feelings would matter. His walk to the fire was uncharacteristically slow and steady—like he was sneaking up on a clicker, not coming to talk to one of his traveling companions.

When he got close enough for you to see his face, Joel paused. You caught a flash of pink tongue against the corner of his lips before he nodded at your pot of mud-like substance. “Making some coffee?” You blinked. His shoulders lifted and fell. “Smells good.”

“Thought I wasn’t supposed to take it,” you said, keeping your voice as low as Joel did. Ellie remained asleep after all. You didn’t need to get him riled up by waking her.

Joel shrugged as he sat down across from you. He watched you, for some reason, before looking away. “You weren’t, but,” he turned back, and for a split-second, you thought he might have been smiling, “I might not complain as much if you let me have some.”

You snorted as you took up your spoon again. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Worth a shot.” He didn’t seem too bothered, and the next moment he lifted a hand and rubbed at his beard. You tried your best to ignore him and focus on your stirring. Burnt coffee was the last thing that you wanted, especially with Joel watching. Unfortunately, your arm still hurt too much to get away with nonchalance. “You want me to do that for you?”

“No,” you said flatly.

Why was Joel even talking to you? His watch shift was over, and he was likely to get cranky in the afternoon if he didn’t get his beauty rest. When you briefly looked up at him, you caught him roll his eyes. The next time he moved, you did not hear him until he had wrested the spoon from your fingers and shoved you over.

“What the fuck?”

“I’m not gonna steal your damn coffee, so don’t even start,” he said shortly.

You clamped your mouth shut over your stillborn protest. If you’d blurted it out, Joel might have spilled the water out, leaving you without coffee or fire. It was probably best to just let him do whatever it was he wanted. He was going to anyway.

Sullenly, you rubbed your stump to distract yourself from the silence. That was another thing the not-so-new world had. No more iTunes or internet radio. Just you and the great outdoors, and maybe the occasional tagalong you didn’t even want.

“So why didn’t you keep the plank?”

“Huh?” you asked. Caught off guard, you forgot to try to sound intelligent.

Joel was looking right at you; one corner of his mouth crinkled at your confusion. “That plank you used to kill that guy. Why didn’t you keep it?”

“Why would I keep it?”

“Well, you can’t shoot worth shit so—”

“I shot that other guy in the head!”

“Lucky shot. You deny it?” As usual, Joel saw straight through you. God, but that pissed you off, enough that you looked back down at your shoes to avoid seeing him look smug. “I’m just saying, if you can’t shoot ‘em, may as well beat ‘em. Make you less useless at least.”

“I still can barely move my arm, asshole,” you snapped. “And somehow that translates to less useless to you?”

“Look, you killed three men that night—”

“Because Ellie took out so many looking for you!”

you,” you muttered, but didn’t go farther than that. Even that, though, must have made you look like you were throwing a temper tantrum, because Joel waited a good long while before he asked:

“Ya done?”

“Just finish your fucking compliment.”

“Well, like I was saying,” he said, and there again was that thing that might have been a smile but no way in hell could have been, “you killed three men that night. On your own.”

“And?”

“And?” Joel snorted. “Why’s there gotta be an ‘and’? I was just sayin’, I recognize that you did a little better back there. Guess you’re trying. Can I have some coffee now?”

“Why would I give you my coffee after that?”

It was getting difficult to keep your voice low enough to let Ellie sleep. Judging by the lightening of the sky through the easternmost branches, she wouldn’t get to stay that way much longer anyway. You knew waking her up would piss off Joel—though it was perfectly clear that Joel didn’t care if he pissed you off. Even with your full glower directed at him, he just stared at you over the dying fire.

“Ellie said you’d share with me if I was nice.”

“Well, you aren’t fucking nice!” you snarled.

You expected more of a fight after that. Maybe that was why you said it. After so many years of traipsing the country side trying not to die, you appreciated routine. Arguing with Joel was about as routine as your life got those days, and those familiar altercations had been lacking while you fled the quarantine zone gang. But you did not get a fight. Instead, to your very great surprise, Joel doubled over with laughter.

Your mouth popped open. Was he going insane? Not the scary fungus kind of insane, but regular run-of-the-mill insane? Then after a minute or so, he sat up, wiped a tear from his eye, and appeared entirely normal.

“What the fuck was that about?” you asked after another moment of silence.

Joel just shook his head, still smiling. You are, without doubt, the most angry and predictable woman I have ever met.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re doin’ it again.” You scowled at him, and his smile widened. “I was teasin’, [Name]. All I meant was you made sure Ellie got out of there alive. ‘Spose I owe you a thank you for that.”

Somehow, the gratitude seemed genuine. You glanced to the left to see Ellie still in an exhausted heap on the frozen ground. She’d scraped away the worst of the ice and now lay underneath her spare jacket—and Joel’s, you suddenly noticed.

“Yeah, well,” you sighed, “she’s a good kid. I guess it wouldn’t benefit me at all to get her murdered at this point.”

“And I told you you’d regret it if you let her die.”

“I remember that. Distinctly.”

“Good. ‘Cause that’s still true. We’re not home yet.”

You stared blearily into the red embers of the fire and did not answer, maybe because you didn’t have an answer, maybe because you didn’t have the energy. “You’re right, though. She is a good kid. Maybe too good sometimes.”

Suddenly, you fixed your eyes on Joel’s face. Again, it struck you how odd they were together. Joel didn’t seem the type to knock some lady up and then spend the rest of his life looking after the baby. Besides, he kept a pretty constant refrain of “You’re not my daughter; you’re not their niece,” when in all other respects he certainly acted like she was.

“Where’d you find her anyway?” you asked.

“I—” Joel shut his mouth, shooting you another death glare. “None of your goddamn business.”

“God, okay. I was just curious.”

“Keep it to yourself,” he said, and lifted your pot from the fire before you could retort.

“Don’t you dare—Fuck!”

You had attempted to snatch the coffee from him. In the process, you pressed your palm straight to the hot metal. What choice did you have but to hold your hand there until you could slowly lower the pot to the ground? None, if you didn’t want to lose your precious cargo! A few mouthfuls still sloshed out into the snow, but you hardly had time to lament what with your skin blistering in front of your tearing eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” Joel got to his feet, watching as you danced about the campsite.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you whispered, as though that could somehow dull the pain. A scream clawed at your throat. When Joel appeared quite suddenly in front of you to grab your wrist, that scream died away.

“What,” he said again, “are you doing?”

“You were going to toss my coffee out, you fucker!” you said, and that time your voice cracked the approved volume level. “I couldn’t just let you—”

“I was going to ask you if you had a mug or something. Don’t blame me for your idiocy.”

“I’m not stupid!”

“Did I tell you to stick your hand on the pot?”

“Just shut up! God, I hate you!”

“Would you hold still? I want to put some ice on it.”

“Don’t you fucking touch me!”

He tugged you closer to him, close enough that you shut up. “I said hold still,” he growled.

Up that close and person, you couldn’t deny how large Joel was. You swallowed and held still. With one hand still clamped around your wrist and his eyes still fixed on your face, he very slowly bent, scooped up a handful of snow, and pressed it into your palm. While he held it there with his own hand, Joel stared at you. You stared back, at a loss for words.

“You guys gonna stand there all day holding hands, or can I go back to sleep?”

You looked over to see Ellie half-risen from her cocoon, one fist pressing into an eye. Heat rushed to your face; you tried to tear away, but Joel’s grip on your hand was too strong. If you attempted escape, it would only hurt you worse.

“Go back to sleep, baby girl,” Joel said. When you looked back at him, he had a smile on his face. “We’re just gonna rest today. Save up energy for the trip tomorrow.”

Ellie watched him for a moment, allowing her eyes to drift once or twice to you. Very slowly, she smirked. You didn’t know why, but that look on her face made you want to hit her. Joel’s fingers tightened around yours as though he somehow read your mind.

“You two kids don’t have too much fun,” said Ellie. Then she rolled over and snuggled back into the jackets on top of her. Joel didn’t move, for how long, you couldn’t say. All you could think of as the sky above you turned robin’s egg blue was that your coffee would be stone-cold by the time you go to it.

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halfratsalready · 11 months ago

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“No-one’s perfect, but mom says we’re not trying hard enough.”

Some thoughts on Jack’s legendary avatar quote and its implications.

Everyone is super curious about who the “we” in this quote is, but when I first read the quote, I actually didn’t think of it as referring to a third person. Essentially, I think a lot of people interpreted this as Jack saying that Night Swan said something like “you’re not trying hard enough.” But when I read this avatar quote, I interpreted it as Jack saying that Night Swan herself said “we’re not trying hard enough.” Obviously, I could just be interpreting it wrong, but I don’t think I’ve seen anyone talk about it in this context, so I thought I would throw my thoughts out there.

(This turned out way longer than intended so there is a TL;DR at the end!)

I’m not saying that Night Swan would actually be referring to herself in saying “we aren’t trying hard enough,” which sounds weird at first, but lemme give you an (admittedly kinda unrelated) example.

When my cat would do something he wasn’t supposed to do, I didn’t just tell him “no.” Obviously, cats don’t understand spoken language, but I think we as humans tend to talk to pets like we do children and I don’t have children so this is the closest personal example I have. Basically, if my cat got his claw stuck in something, I didn’t say, “you don’t put your claws in things.” I would say “we don’t put our claws in things.” I don’t have claws and this sentence clearly doesn’t apply to me, but I still used the words “we” and “our.”

Unbeknownst to me at the time, this is actually part of a parenting method called positive discipline, where scolding is rephrased to become more like a lesson. Something as simple as replacing “you can’t do that” with “we don’t do that” actually has profound psychological implications that make children more likely to act on the things they are told.

There are several studies that have been done and many more that are ongoing into the power of word choice when it comes to personal pronouns (I, you, we, etc). Using the word “we” implies a shared experience and can be more persuasive. Other studies have shown that children better learned how to play games when they were taught the rules using the generic-you or we pronouns.

According to Harvard Business Review, many leaders and higher ups in the business world use “we” in place of “you” because it implies community and makes the person being spoken to feel like they’re part of something as opposed to being singled out.

All of this is to say that saying “we’re not trying hard enough” could be a manipulative choice of words on Night Swan’s part. By using the word “we,” she would be implying a sense of community that could make Jack more likely to strive to try harder than were she just to tell him outright to try harder (and none of this is to say that she still couldn’t be referring to others in addition).

TL;DR, I interpreted Jack’s quote as coming from a direct quote from Night Swan, along the lines of “we’re not trying hard enough, are we?” Not only is it reminiscent of the way we hear adults speak to children, but it also has psychological implications that could be an attempt on her part to make him work harder at trying to achieve perfection. Saying “you’re not trying hard enough,” whether it’s just to Jack or to him and others, comes across like an attack, and while I don’t think that Night Swan particularly cares about hurting feelings, I do feel like she’s smart enough to know that her choice of words is important, especially to a child who is very easily influenced by words alone.

I’m not saying that I think this is the right interpretation, but I thought I’d share it because I haven’t seen anyone else talk about it this way :)

#food for thought I suppose #I didn’t mean for this to be so long #you can really tell I’m a writer huh #just dance #jack rose #jack rose jd #jack rose just dance #night swan jd #night swan just dance #just dance fandom

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valhalla-awaitsfor-us · 1 year ago

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Hi! I hope you don't mind I take your reply to my post to talk a little bit about script writing as a scriptwriter.

This is in no way an attack, I just saw an opportunity to explain something as someone who works writing scripts.

At this point I think it's becoming clear that live action only exists because Netflix wants to have its own Game of Thrones, but that they are not going to respect the core of the original series, because their goal is different. Having said this, I want to review why the changes that are being made are incorrect (if the idea is to respect the story and the characters) focusing on the 3 protagonists: Sokka, Katara and Aang.

Let's start with Sokka, whose changes are perhaps the most "controversial."

As I said in my original post, The core of Sokkas character is that he is a boy who grew up trying to be a man since his father left for war. In that attempt, as someone immature and unguided, he had sexist attitudes, only to later mature and become a real man. Great example for young boys.

No, his sexism comments didn't last long, but they changed at a key moment in the plot: When Suki appears. Avatar is a special series because it was one of the first of its time to so explicitly touch on the topic of feminism. Rebelling in every sense of the word is a recurring theme in ATLA. Sexism was literally knocked out of Sokka when he met the Kyoshi warriors. That's why the scene of him wearing the warriors' clothes is so significant and why it's so important that at the end of the season Sokka has learned his lesson, because there is a direct comparison between him and Pakku. Sokka, on his path to becoming a man, was able to deconstruct his misogynistic mentality at his young age and without an adult guidance, while a man of Paku's age, admired and respected, was still rooted in his sexist beliefs.

It was Katara's act of rebelling against Sokka's sexism that freed Aang from the icerberg. Because, again, an act of rebellion, of standing firm in the face of injustice, along with redemption, are the pillars of Avatar. Sokka's journey encompasses all of those topics, and the fact that he is 16 and not 19 is essential to his character arc.

Is not that we want him to be sexist. We want him to be flawed. Because each flaw are unique to each character. It talks about their development and also about the themes of the show.

Also "Toned down" it sounds weird because as a kid I always knew Sokka was an idiot when being sexist. But it wasn't that bad that I was afraid of him or so angry that I hated his character. Because Avatar is a kid shows even if people from all ages can enjoy it. So when they said "toned down" I was really confused. It made me feel that for them, the only way to show him being sexist way to make him do some unredeemable thing.

Katara

So. Im gonna start saying that Im not a fan of Katara. I think her character is written incredibly well, but it just not for me. In fact, i do feel like we needed an scene between Sokka and her where they can clear the air about their mom. The things she said to her brother and to Aang, the only survivor of a genocide, were too hard to not have a talk after that.

NOW, After saying that, Katara is Katara because of her backstory. Seeing her mother die in front of her and being the only waterbender in her tribe lead her to feel the need to take care of everyone, especially her brother, to be overprotective, to be compassionate. To be Katara.

Sokka himself admits that sometimes when he tries to remember his mother he only remembers Katara. While Aang is a boy who must mature faster than normal, Katara is a girl who has already grown faster than normal and her journey not only includes rebelling and protecting others, but also recovering some of that lost childhood.

Katara is the representation of water. Healing and destructive at the same time. Turbulent but benevolent. I feel the live action writers, and even the actors and actresses, do not understand that the feminist message was already perfectly captured in the original material. The creators of Avatar created complex female characters and just because Katara's story is influenced by the concept of motherhood does not mean that she is not a strong character. She is a strong character because her story is influenced by that concept. Not because motherhood in itself makes us women strong, but because motherhood, specifically for her character, puts her at crossroads and forces her to go through an arc of transformation.

Aang

I'm going to be concise and short with Aang. The decision to have so many "distractions" in his mission is because Aang is 12 years old and does not want to face a war. I think it's something so basic that it seems dumb not to understand that a young boy doesn't want the responsibility of saving the world and seeing his friends die again. I think, maybe, just maybe, understanding that is not that hard.

If they wanted to write a story of wars, blood and darkness, they should not have chosen Avatar, whose protagonist is a little boy.

#atla #avatar #aang #sokka #katara #netflix #aang the last airbender

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leupagus · 7 months ago

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There’s a lot of discourse in fandom about Sansa, Arya, and Cersei’s attitudes toward power and traditional femininity. I’m super curious to see what you think about Sansa and Cersei in particular, especially since we didn’t get a Cersei POV in Gale of Wolves. What does Cersei think of Sansa establishing power in her own right in the North? Does she still crave power for herself? I always thought that Cersei sees her sexuality as a tool or weapon but otherwise is pretty disdainful of women in general. She’s got internalized misogyny in spades.

In Sansa’s case— do you think she still dwells on what she learned from Cersei (either what she was told directly or lessons made indirectly)? I’m thinking about the battle of the black water in the books where Sansa thinks : when I am queen, I will make them love me; in a pretty stark (pun unintended) contrast to Cersei’s rule by fear. I see Sansa choosing to utilize her traditional femininity by wielding soft power that in turn becomes hard power. In your fic, she goes to each of her bannermen, she learns about them, she shows that she cares and probably uses a lot of court/ lady of the house skills she learned. Stannis doesn’t understand it at all, but Sansa has a stronger position in the North than he does anyway.

These are such great questions — I can say that the lack of Cersei POV in A Gale of Wolves was very deliberate, because she gets her own POV chapter in the next section of the story and I wanted her to be a little more opaque at this point. Because you're right, Cersei's going to have a LOT of feelings about Sansa getting control of the North while she's still just the Dowager Queen (even though in this story she's decidedly not going to the Sept's dungeons or enduring the Walk of Shame Atonement). Right now she's so convinced that Sansa murdered Joffrey that everything else kind of simmers under that, but I do think there's a certain degree of envy that Sansa can claim the North for herself and be unchallenged in that, when even her own daughter Myrcella will have some difficulties in laying claim to Casterly Rock (which will get resolved in the next section, but it's still not straightforward because Westeros And Essos Hate Women). There's also a lot of confusion there, because Cersei doesn't have a home the way Sansa does; she grew up in the Westerlands and lived most of her adult life in King's Landing, but what she craves is power and safety, not necessarily a home. So Sansa's motivations themselves are baffling — why fight for the North, a useless great vast nothing? Who could possibly love that place?

The note you make about Cersei using her sexuality is interesting, because I think that's prevalent in the books (I'm not sure since I haven't read them), but really not at all present in the show; in fact I think you can argue that Cersei's whole canonical path in the show is a slow stripping away of her "female-ness," which she hates so much — all that talk about how she should've been the man, how no one could tell her and Jaime apart when they were little, how her appearance and dress grows progressively more masculine. Which I always thought was interesting if you see it as a reaction to trauma: so much of what is done to her is because she's a woman, because she doesn't have power in her own right, and so she reaches for whatever simulacrum she can get. It doesn't work in the end, of course; it never does. But it's a nice dream.

I do agree that Cersei's a misogynist, but...so is everyone in this world, really. Even Dany, even Arya, even Sansa — the world of Westeros is predicated on the inferiority of women, and women themselves have to swim in that water even if they're swimming against the current.

As for Sansa, I think there's a LOT of fascination/repulsion when it comes to Cersei. One of the biggest mistakes the show ever made was never letting Arya or Sansa see Cersei one last time; sure, it's realistic that you don't get closure with your nemesis/abuser, but narratively it would've been so much more satisfying than crushing her with big rocks. Because Sansa's right, in the show where she says she learned a lot from Cersei; in many ways, Cersei was far more her mentor than Littlefinger ever was.

But you're right on the money in re: how Sansa rules, which is not the way a king would rule or the way the wife of a lord would rule, or the way any of the women in power she's met have ruled. It's not feminine so much as Sansa-esque; she is feminine, for sure, but I think a lot of what she does (both in my fic and on the show) is less about gender and more about thoughtfulness. I always think about the comment she makes to Royce about lining the new plate armor with leather when the southern soldiers wouldn't have thought about it, or how she makes Jon the exact replica of their father's cloak just from memory. Sansa is very, VERY good at noticing details and remembering them for later, however irrelevant. Having someone like that in charge of your kingdom is pretty handy.

I think one of the interesting things I'm going to do with the fic is explore some of the lessons that Cersei learns from Sansa — because she'll have time in this fic to see Sansa's method of rule working, and perhaps get enough intel to find out why it does, at least in part. And I don't think Cersei is foolish enough to pass that kind of opportunity up.

#I've been reading the wiki entries for the Dance of Dragons characters and Sansa and Cregan would've gotten along worryingly well #just sitting down and getting the job DONE and then going home #it's pretty great honestly #anyway Sansa wanted to be loved when she was a child but now? I think she's resigned to whatever weird mix of fear resentment and awe #that the Northern lords and smallfolk have for her #they DO love her but it's love that's uncomfortable up close #even for Sansa #anyway this ask got longer than my dick sorry #game of thrones motherfuckers #got: bitches get stuff done

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gabessquishytum · 1 year ago

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Time for me to be a little problematic maybe. 👉👈

Hob is a poor, peasant child, so when his parents, who have too many kids and are struggling to keep them fed, get an offer that Hob could get an apprenticeship with housing and food, they take it, no questions asked. They don't question the fact that Hob is 6 years old and a wild, almost untamable child, and what could the people possibly want with him. At least he'll be fed.

Hob feels special for being picked out of a crowd. That pride quickly vanishes as he learns that there are dozens, if not hundreds, of kids like him who will be getting the same education. Or apprenticeship. Or whatever. There is more food than he's ever seen in his life.

Over the years, most of the children are sent back to their families. It is uncertain what it is in particular that makes them "unworthy". One kid loses the sight in both eyes but stays. Another loses a finger - he can still do most jobs with 9 fingers! - and is sent away. The most kids are sent away for misbehaving and breaking the rules. But some - Hob among them - can get away with almost anything. Not without punishment or without making his teachers disappointed, but he never gets sent away for stealing, fighting, being rude.

What they learn is mostly etiquette, fighting, and literature. Hob is taught to read and write, and he has to sit through countless lessons about other people who could read and write. He sleeps through the lessons mostly, catching up on sleep after spending the night wandering through the restricted areas of the building or stealing sweets from the pantry.

Then one day, while he is wandering through the forbidden part of the library at the early hours of the morning, Hob runs into someone. It's a tall, black-clad man. He had seen him around 3 or 4 times. The teachers treated him with respect and he never stayed longer than a few days. He never interacted with the young, but he watched them from afar sometimes.

Hob remembers every millisecond of the encounter. The man asks him why he's in the library, and he says he likes to break rules. The man asks him what other rules he had broken, and for some reason, Hob just... confesses everything bad he's ever done. Even before he was taken in by the teachers. The man listens and his face doesn't show anything. No scandal, no disappointment, nothing. Then he suggests - only suggests - that Hob should try to be a better person. And then he's gone. He didn't walk away but just disappeared.

For a few weeks, Hob becomes the worst version of himself, just to spite that man, because there is no reason to be good. This is not a good world, so why should he be? But then he trips one girl as she is asked to come recite something in front of the class and she starts crying after she falls and she is immediately sent away, and he realises... That it would cost him zero effort to not be a bad person. That the girl would continue to have food and shelter if he didn't do anything, and he wouldn't be worse for it. There is enough for everyone.

Hob gives the being a good person thing a try. And it feels, to his surprise, good! He doesn't get any praise or pride from his teachers for the change, no reward, and the dark man doesn't show up again for many years. Only for a moment, passing by Hob, the barest smile on his face. And that is enough. In truth, Hob would continue working on himself even if he didn't get that smile. But it's a nice bonus.

It definitely takes effort, however. His instinct is to steal and cause harm, and he has to fight the urge every day. But the success tastes incredibly sweet. Better than the candy he used to steal.

When Hob is an adult by human standards, there is a sudden change. No longer is there plentiful, rich food, clean clothes, interesting books, and intensive lessons. There is illness, cold, hard work that yields only enough money to get them all by. It seems that whoever was paying the teachers to raise the kids has stopped, but they keep trying to lead them in the right direction. But many have become spoiled, and as many of the teachers succumb to illness, many of the kids - now adults - lose whatever quality was keeping them there and they are kicked out. For the better, perhaps, as outside there are jobs and opportunities. But Hob stays. The place and the people are his home and he cares.

Years later, there are only seven of them left and only three other people - teacher Lucienne and the two grounds keepers. Then one day, the money or whatever returns. Food is served and new people hired. And then, another year later, the dark-clad man returns. The seven remaining apprentices are told to line up. Hob doesn't expect to catch the man's attention another time, he thinks there is nothing special about him. The others are exceptionally smart, talented, or pretty. He is not outstanding at anything.

The man takes a close look at all of them, and it feels like being cut open and having someone look at your organs. Two others scream when that intense gaze lands on them. Hob only gasps in wonder. He swears there are stars in the man's eyes!

When he is done with the examination, the man thanks the teachers. Lucienne joins his side when he announces that he is pleased with their work and he will leave now and this place will cease to exist and it will be forgotten by the time the sun goes down tonight. Then he beckons to Hob, choosing him.

Hob follows, curious and maybe a liiiiittle scared. They don't get on horses or into a carriage. They walk right into the deep forest nearby. There, in a tree that Hob has seen countless of times, is a door that has never been there before. And the man opens it and they all walk through into a huge palace.

There, Hob is informed that he will be wed to the Prince of Stories, the King of Nightmares, Dream. He has been raised for this purpose and he did not disappoint. He worked hard. At that, Hob objects. He is actually still a slow reader and he's not good at any important thing. He carves animals out of wood, but no-one has considered it important. He doesn't sing, doesn't create poetry.

Dream tells him that Hob has worked the hardest by changing himself, humbling himself, and continuing to do so even without any reward, even when the life of being good became uncomfortable and brought him suffering. That is why Dream chose him, in the end.

Hob doesn't get a say in the matter. Before he knows it, he is married to a man that looks no older than he is but who has, apparently, been watching him grow up and had taken interest in him above great poets, singers, and other amazing people. Thankfully, Dream seems like he will be a good husband. The wedding night definitely gives Hob high hopes.

(Dream, tired of his relationships ending in ruin, decided to send his most trusted people to the world of humans to find him a perfect partner. He is not disappointed. Lucienne was right that there was something good even in the rotten apples and they can yet bloom into beautiful trees.)

Hob is given immortality and he is spiked to hell, of course. The end.

- 🚒

ONCE AGAIN LOVING IT WHEN YOU GUYS DROP A WHOLE INTRICATE FIC OUTLINE INTO MY INBOX. I'm so here for this. Weirdass fae Dream essentially grooming a child to be his future husband has just the right balance of creepiness, sexiness and moral questionableness. And Hob’s character arc is moving af??? I think in canon one of the lovable things about him is the way his life does go up and down and I love when this is reflected in au fics. Hob is definitely moulded so much by his experiences and I love the idea of Dream deliberately moulding him into the perfect husband. And Hob still at the end of the day being a normal ass guy??? That's the best part. The carving animals out of wood really got me fr.

I am soooo curious about how their married life would actually turn out. I feel like Hob has definitely been raised to have great loyalty, and that he would stick by Dream no matter what. Ultimately that's probably the main quality Dream is looking for, even if he won't admit it. Would Hob resent Dream for putting him through such a strange existence and taking him away from his parents when he was only a child? I suspect he would try not to think about all that.

Thank you so much for the brain worms, friend!! This is excellent!

#🚒 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw age gap

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cacoetheswriting · 2 years ago

Text

pearl: october 1980

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 2.2k summary: eddie has a conversation with the girl of his dreams.

content warnings: best friends to lovers, part of a slow burn, a lil mutual pining, adult language, use of pet names, oblivious idiots, self-doubt / insecurities - if i missed anything, pls let me know!

pearl masterlist <- part of this lil series, but can definitely be read as a standalone.

When it came to starting a conversation with people, Eddie sure as hell was not the confident type.

Middle School didn’t allow for a lot of practice, especially since as a person with interests that differed from the norm, he was shunned quite early on into a category he couldn’t, and often still can’t get out of no matter how hard he tries: freak.

People weren’t lining up to spend time with him even in a platonic capacity, and they sure as hell didn’t want to get to know him in a romantic way.

But with time, Eddie learned to be okay with that.

Especially since, as it turns out, most girls in Hawkins had some sort of ‘bad boy’ fantasy they liked to keep a dirty little secret and he was happy to oblige.

Plus it’s not like he badly needed anyone to actually call his own. High School was apparently a time of self-discovery and what he discovered in the last month was that honestly, he really didn’t mind being the almost invisible freak.

That all changed when you came around.

Your entrance into his life was rather unexpected and Eddie quickly realised that he needed to up his game. Yeah, perhaps he still wanted to be left alone, but that thought took a back burner whenever you laughed.

Honey, the sound of your laughter. Every time he heard it, his heart would skip a beat and his palms would start to feel clammy, sweaty, as he gravitated towards the sound instantly. As he gravitated towards you.

Unfortunately for Eddie, so did everyone else in this godforsaken town.

Who could blame them? Your arrival right at the start of the school year was perhaps the most exciting thing to happen in Hawkins since that maniac Creel murdered his entire family in the late 50s.

You had quickly become the new it girl and in the blink of an eye, you two were running in different circles. Your reality had become so far removed from his own, any hopes or dreams he had of getting to know you on a deeper level had become just that: dreams.

God knows he still thought about you often.

“Care to share with the rest of the group, Mr. Saltzman?” the teacher calls out, causing all heads to turn simultaneously in the general direction of the distraction.

This includes Eddie's and he's glancing up from the scribbles in his notepad to focus instead on a few rows ahead where you, the girl everyone wanted to be friends with, sat.

The boy sitting next to you shifts uncomfortably in his seat, shaking his head.

“We were just discussing the history of Halloween,” you chime sweetly. The teacher doesn’t seem to believe you for a second, but with such a likeable personality like yours, there’s not much else to say.

“Blake here doesn't believe Halloween dates back to the Celts, and the ancient festival of Samhain,” you continue with the quite convincing lie and Eddie's surprised you know these obscure facts, “He thinks I’m bluffing when I say the day marked the end of summer for the Celts, who believed on the night of October 31st the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead became blurred, thus what we now know and celebrate as Halloween.”

Your confidence certainly is admirable, although why you choose to protect the douche you called a ‘friend’ was beyond the young metalhead.

“I guess the conversation probably could have waited till after class so, won’t happen again. We’re sorry,” you add with a soft smile.

When the teacher returns to the blackboard, resuming the lesson no one was really paying attention to anyway, Eddie observes as you mumble something to Blake before turning your head ever so slightly in his direction.

The air hitches in his throat as he awaits the standard "What are you looking at, freak.", but it never comes.

Instead, you smile at him and Eddie can feel his face turn a gleaming shade of red — pathetic. He quickly ducks his head down, but can still feel your eyes on him. It takes everything he has to stop himself from looking up again, afraid of somehow making a fool of himself.

Luckily, he manages to keep distracted till the bell rings, but he's not completely in the clear 'cause as everyone disperses in a hurry, you approach him.

“What you doodlin’?”

When he doesn't immediately answer, or meet your gaze for that matter, your hand appears in his field of vision. Your moves are hesitant at first, but since Eddie doesn't protest, you twirl the notebook around on the desk.

“Well shit, Eddie. These are really fucking cool.”

He snaps his head up, possibly a little too quickly, a little too eagerly, but he couldn’t help the act of surprise 'cause he didn’t realise…

“You know my name?”

Your pretty eyes latch onto his momentarily and a smile circles your lips. “Of course I do. As the new kid in town, I had to make it my business to know who’s who since y’all ogled me and my family from day one as if we were from outer space.”

He let out a semi-nervous chuckle as you pause, glancing back down at the notebook.

“Plus, you’re pretty much the only person in this entire school who’s got a good taste in music,” you state casually, as if it’s no big deal. And to you it’s not. Though for Eddie, your admission causes his heart to flutter inside his chest since no one's ever admitted out loud to liking the same shit as him.

“Anyway, are you going to this Halloween party tonight? I’m thinking of dressing up as Janis Joplin and I could really use someone to be Peter Albin…”

“I’d love to!”

You giggle at his excitement and Eddie's thanking some lucky stars that his rather abrupt reaction doesn’t scare you off.

“I-I mean, I love Peter Albin. Janis too. Dressing up as them with you would be cool," he rambles.

“Cool,” you say and flick through some pages of his notebook and bend over slightly to scribble something down. “This is my address. Come by around six if you wanna make it for dinner, my mom’s making lasagna. Also, if you wanna stay over after the party, we have a spare room so bring a change of clothes or somethin’.”

Stay over at your house... Eddie swallows and does his best not to show how his insides are literally shaking at the thought of: a) going to a party with you, and b) this casual invite to what one could only call a sleepover.

The bell rings, signalling it’s time for next period.

A small part of the metalhead is angry since it means the two of you have to part ways, at least for now, but as he stands to gather his things, to his pleasant surprise, you wait.

A certain envious feeling spreads through Eddie because he was never good at making friends, yet it seemed to come so naturally to you. Then something crosses his mind. What if this is some elaborate joke? After all, you are friends with some of the worst people this school has to offer, however, he does his best to shake the thought away for now and follows you out into the crowded hallway.

“So, are you a big Joplin fan?” Eddie asks, his best attempt to continue the conversation.

“Pearl is my favourite album,” you reply, “I know that could be a little tame to someone who wears a Judas Priest t-shirt, but I promise I also take devil worship super seriously.”

He snorts at your joke and when your eyes meet his once again, his priorities shift and he swear he's willing to do quite possibly anything to become your friend.

To say you checked your appearance at least forty times wouldn’t be a gross over exaggeration.

You had the outfit planned long before you were even invited to this Halloween party, you knew it was perfect and something Janis Joplin herself would likely wear, yet ever since you asked Eddie Munson to not only join you, but also compliment the costume with his own, you were suddenly feeling nervous.

The curly-haired teen was by far the coolest person in this stingy town — although it didn’t seem like he knew that or like anyone else shared your belief.

His metalhead vibe reminded you a lot of the kids you grew up around, which is exactly the initial reason why you were so drawn to him. Though it took you weeks to finally approach him. Partially because you were scared he’d brush you off, but mainly because ever since you moved to Hawkins with your parents at the brink of August and September, the more popular kids latched onto you like leeches.

“Don’t waste your time with Munson,” Blake would say repeatedly, “He’s a freak.”

Unfortunately for your new group of friends, you didn’t care about social status and it also helped to know Eddie was just as fascinated with you as you were with him. His secret glances and soft smiles when no one else was looking only affirmed that belief.

So you bit the bullet and invited him out.

Bold move on your part. One you were almost starting to regret as you nervously flattened the crinkles of your loose shirt, glancing at the clock on the wall in anticipation.

Eddie doesn’t show up for dinner.

You try to hide the disappointment in front of your parents and eat the meal while actively listening to your dad retelling the events from his day at work.

“Kid, I tell ya, moving here was the best idea your mother’s ever had. Aside from marrying me and havin' you, of course. Wanna know the most exciting thing that’s happened? There was a mixup with our lunch order. Can you believe it?”

You help mom clean up after before going to quickly freshen up, brush your teeth, and grab your set of house keys. After saying a quick goodbye, still thinking about the boy that never showed, you walk outside and are about to begin your journey to the party you no longer wanted to go to when a figure emerges from the shadows.

“Shit,” you exhale and place a hand over your heart, “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Eddie says sheepishly, running a hand through his brown locks. “I-I wasn’t sure if you were still home so…”

Your brows string together as you take a step towards him.

“How long have you been out here, Eddie?”

“Uhm, at least the last half hour,” he answers, “I noticed the light was on upstairs, but I wasn’t sure if that was your room or not. Figured I’d hang around and you’d either show up or I’d head home embarrassed.” He pauses. “Sorry I didn’t come for dinner.”

“It’s okay,” a white-lie. “Still wanna go to the party?”

“If you want to.”

Eddie slides his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and you notice then how good he looks under the dim street lamps. Peter Albin, eat your heart out.

“I like your outfit,” you compliment him with a genuine smile and you swear you can see him blush.

“Thanks,” he says with a little more confidence than he’s displayed thus far, “but you arguably look a hundred percent better than me.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you, Eddie. That’s very sweet.”

“You’re welcome.”

The two of you never make it to the party.

Instead, Eddie offers to show me Skull Rock and that’s how you end up laying down on the cold ground, arm-to-arm, somewhere in the middle of the forest.

Truth be told, if you were with anyone else, you wouldn’t have agreed to this in the first place. An eerily quiet night and the deep dark woods are like a recipe for disaster in most horror movies.

Things felt different with Eddie.

Despite only having three conversations in the span of one day, the doe-eyed boy made you feel safe.

The few hours hiding from the world under this rock also made you realise how much you actually have in common. The conversation flow was incredibly natural. You drifted from topic to topic as if you had known each other a lifetime and in the space of two hours, you went from sitting across from one another to being in the formerly named position — pinkies gently grazing.

His presence next to yours is soothing. It’s also exciting, thrilling even. You hadn’t experienced this sensation before, with anyone, and you quickly find yourself thinking perhaps this could be more than just a friendship.

Until Eddie says, “Friends are hard to come by in Hawkins. I’m glad we’re here and I hope we can hang out more.”

Darkness hides your disappointment.

Short lived, the idea of dating the boy next to you so it’s easy to extinguish the flame inside and convince yourself that perhaps this was for the best.

Relationships end. Sometimes they do so quite badly.

Friendships however, well, they have a tendency to last forever.

“From now on, Eddie, we’ll never not be hanging out.”

pearl masterlist

thank you for reading <3

& tagging some cool people that expressed interest in this lil series: @cactusangie , @spenciesprincess , @capitanostella , @ashlynnkennedy , @ms1oftheboys

#a prequel of sorts—#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x best friend reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #bestfriend!eddie #pearl (eddies version)

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wildshona · 2 months ago

Text

Chris is Away, Toni Isn’t

So it was obvious that I would get a Sunday invitation to Toni’s. Amelia and Zoe are staying there while he’s away and anyway it has become part of the Sunday routine. So I turn up after lunch in casual clothes and something nice for later. A cocktail dress will be nice she had said when she invited me, something short. Well, I have a number of those.

The afternoon was swim time as usual with much splashing in the pool after a proper swimming lesson for Zoe from Ina. Toni and I naked as the Goddess intended, Amelia in a bikini bottoms that were so small I don’t know why she bothered and I na in a little black bikini. Zoe of course was in her float suit. Zoe and Amelia had moved in on Friday and this made Zoe’s fourth lesson and you can already see the beginning of a breast stroke.

And later, after cocktails for the non-staff adults, it was time for dinner with Zoe babbling on about living in a palace and Amelia and me playing up to it and Toni watching with amusement. Mrs Lewis and Ina efficient as ever with Ina wearing the shortest maid outfit so far.

Then it was brandies in the lounge after Amelia and Ina had taken Zoe to bed and Mrs Lewis had returned to her domain. After Amelia returned we just drank and chatted, Toni stretched out on the sofa looking beautiful and Amelia an me looking like the sub we are.

It was really pleasant. I was told to take my dress off and Amelia was told to strip take off her blouse. (I was in a dress and Amelia in a blouse and skirt.)

How about a drink Amelia, suggested Toni and her tits were available to feed Toni and me side by side. I suggested that Toni get Amelis one of those sex cow outfits and got a very hard slap on my arse for my pains that really left a mark and a retort not to be so trashy.

Then Toni had her dress up round her waist and I was required to service both her and Amelia in turn.

It wasn’t all that late when Toni announced that it was time for bed and kissed Amelis good night, a long lingering kiss that Amelia would never have dreamed of taking or giving when she arrived in November. You are staying the night, says Toni to me, a royal command rather than a question or statement. She took me by the hand

I had never been in Toni’s bedroom before not even when she gave us the full tour of the house after she invited us to live with her. Very elegant in a dark sort of way. An enormous bed – a four poster in dark wood with deep purple curtains. Lots of mirrors. A cage in the corner large enough for a good sized dog or a girl my size lying in a foetal position.

The bed also had some interesting extras. Wrist shackles on all of the bed posts positioned for standing or sitting. The bed, by the wat was big enough for six.

Welcome to my play room, I actually have another bedroom for sleeping when I am on my own or in a soft mood.

What mood are you in now.

Well, kitten, I am in a soft mood but I wanted you to see this too.Now come to bed. No shackles for you. Not tonight anyway.

We played. I have no idea how many time I came on her fingers and tongue and on dildos. There was a butt plug naturally. And I serviced her with an eager mouth and everything I had learned from Glenys when I was growing up refined by practice and experience and teachers like Bai and others.

The next morning, drinking tea in bed provided by Mrs Lewis (how did she know I drink Jasmine Pearl?) Toni asked me about my experiences with BDSM. She triggered me then and she held me as I sobbed out stories about growing up she had not yet heard.

Eventually I left to go back to the empty flat having said goodbye to Amelia and Zoe, who was having a swimming lesson. Toni had gone to work by then.

#free use slvt

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satureja13 · 10 months ago

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Beltane 2024 Prequel is -> here

Oh! They went to Otherworld's Tartosa to celebrate Beltane! It's almost a year since they spent their holidays here after Summer Solstice.

This was their first 'interotherworldly' travel and it took some time until Noxee arrived with the others. Greg, Vlad, Jeb and Kiyoshi had been so worried. But it's also awkward to meet again after all these weeks since Ostara. Sai was so out of his head to see Jeb again, he didn't even put on shoes... Poor Ji Ho doesn't take this way of travelling well. As soon as he stepped out of the TukTuk, Vlad was by his side and asked him if he was ok. Ji Ho felt still dizzy. But it's so good to be held by Vlad. With his conscious damped down, his body (and the Bond) took over and he tried to kiss Vlad, but Vlad turned away - again... Ji Ho whimpered from the loss.

They went to the beach and as soon as Ji Ho was in the water, he felt so much better.

Noxee and Greg took 'their kids' - Saiwa and Jack - with them. Ji Ho needs a some time to recover from the ride before he can cast his Siren's Song to take the discomfort from being together off of them. And Ji Ho, Vlad, Kiyoshi and Jeb went to swim in the ocean. Let's hope the therapy shows some effects soon. Look how sad they are.

Noxee forced Greg and Jack to have some 'father and son' time hahaha

And she distracted Saiwa from fretting over Jeb by chatting about fashion and how they'd dress up the Boys for this evening.

Later, Greg treated them for lunch. The way he looks at his Noxee :3

And since Greg is also involved in Jack's healing process, they told him that one of Jack's big rash spots vanished. Saiwa: "This is a good sign, right? He will get over Kiyoshi and won't die, right?" Noxee: "It is a good sign and I don't think he'll die from it, but..." Saiwa: "What? You told us the Alpha bond between them will be cut." Greg: "The alpha bond is cut. But he is still your fated mate, Jack. This can't be cut." Jack: "What? But this isn't real! Why didn't you tell me?"

Noxee: "Because you didn't tell us. Greg tried everything he could for you and it drained him to safe you from suffering even more and from dying. Youre acting like a child, Jack. He doesn't deserve your hate." Greg: "That's what I told you months before. Unlike you, I can sense your fated bond and I do understand why Kiyoshi wanted to keep it a secret to keep you and the others safe, so I said nothing. And that's why I told you to become stronger. No one can hurt you mentally if you don't allow it, Jack. And I told you that a relationship is hard work. You will always be connected to him. But you decide how it's going to be, too. Work hard on your mental health to step out of that victim role. You are the Super Soldier and you do have these abilities. Unlock them." (When you hear this, you'd like to punch Greg in the face, right? That was/is one of the hardest lessons in my life. And I got so, so angry when people told me this. And it was painful to learn that I had my doings in letting myself getting hurt. It still is (took me decades), but it's worth to learn how to avoid it - if you're ready for it. It's a treasure box you already carry with you and it contains the power to ask yourself: Do I want to allow this person to hurt me? Do I want to allow them power over my feelings?)

Noxee: "If you try to see things from a different angle, Kiyoshi isn't the bad boy you want him to be. He did everything he did out of love for Jack and all of you. Yes, he made mistakes, like all of us. And yes, he caused you pain. But he didn't mean it and he paid for it - and still does. This Therapy Game is a great chance for you to sort things out now safely and grow. Use it. You can't run away forever, Jack. You'll have to face your demon." Well, that's not what they wanted to hear... Seems Jack is stuck to Kiyoshi... (We already know that because adult Jack and Kiyoshi are still a couple.)

'Como si nuestro tiempo no hubiera pasado ya Dime, dónde estamos qué podrá pasar Corazones flechados, pero de cada cual Esa es la barrera que hay que derribar Estoy pensando en ti. Estoy pensando en mí'

'Like our time hasn't yet passed. Tell me, where are we? What could happen? Hearts bound by an arrow, but, To each other That's the barrier that must be demolished I am thinking of you. I am thinking of me.' (translated from italian to english/not by me ^^') Eros Ramazotti & Tina Turner - Cosas de la Vida

From the Beginning ~ Underwater Love ~ Latest 🕹️ 'Therapy Game' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

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the-savage-garden · 1 year ago

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Why am I anti SJM?

I've previously mentioned this in posts before but decided to make this to clarify my thoughts. Look, I didn't go out of my way to become anti SJM when I started reading her books, I actually had been looking forward to reading them!

About... 3 years ago I think, I convinced my mom to get me Throne Of Glass. After reading through a few chapters I realized I made a huge mistake in getting that book. And sure, it was my fault in not looking into it before then. I'm not familiar with YA books so I had no idea what to expect, as a teen I skipped over to adult books like from Stephen King. I always wanted to read romance books though so I thought it would be good to try new things. Well, lesson learned.

I felt guilt for wasting both me and my mom's time, can't even bring myself to tell her that I hate the book that I convinced her to buy for me. So I hoped if I found a way to read ACOTAR (which was what I originally wanted to get but couldn't find it) that I'd feel better and, well, I actually enjoyed that one. It was like glorified Disney's Beauty and the Beast fanfiction (seriously, tell me that Feyre isn't just Belle, Tamlin is the Beast, and Rhys is Gaston) but I found it fun, I thought that I just had the wrong impression of SJM with Throne Of Glass.

I decided to glance through ACOMAF as I was considering buying the series later and wanted to make sure that ACOTAR wasn't just a fluke. Then I read it... it's hard to describe how disappointed it made me feel. I wasted my time... again.

That's when I decided instead of feeling sorry for myself I'd use SJM's books as a learning experience and how to avoid the same writing pitfalls as her.

Reading through other anti SJM posts also helps me feel better, feels like I'm not crazy for hating these books.

I know besides the writing there's other problems with SJM but I try to not bring up anything with her personal life. The only time I would bring it up is if it's tied to her writing in some way (like for example how she writes siblings, found out she has a brother which makes me wonder why she writes sibling dynamics in such an odd way in her books because I assumed she was an only child before).

I'm a bit... mixed on her prose, sometimes it's fine but others it's bleh. Y'know how people think of characters as "I can fix him/her"? That's what SJM's books are like for me, I want to fix them so much. I see where things could've worked if it was rewritten, I'm not going to do it myself though, I'm just going to nitpick them instead.

Anyway, if anyone was confused on why I'm still going over SJM books even though I hate them I hope this explains why I'm still reading them. I do plan to go over other authors (maybe YA authors as they seem to be pretty bad from what I can tell) I'm just being a bit slower going over SJM.

#anti sjm #anti acotar #anti tog

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delicatemusickingdom · 10 months ago

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Book 1 Part 2 Chapter 1.1

Chapter 1: Learning

“Pl… Please… fetch… my… Uh…”

“Book—?”

“Book for me.”

The voice stumbled over the words, but gently prompted by the hints given, they managed to finish the sentence without faltering.

“Okay, good job!”

Yuri sat down, looking not altogether unpleased with the praise he had received.

They were in a corner of Fountain Alley’s plaza. Around ten people sat on the open ground in front of an old-deserted house. Some sat directly on the ground, while others sat on reasonably-sized buckets or falling-apart wooden chairs that they had brought from somewhere else.

The people there were as diverse as their seats — there were both men and women, and old and young alike. All of them, however, were sitting facing the wall of the nearby building. Written on the wall were letters in black lines.

A woman stood alone next to the letters. Combined with the thinness of the letter’s lines, she exuded a refined elegance that didn’t suit the lower quarter. Her name was Norein Scifo. Occasionally she would cough weakly, and use the charcoal in her hand to write letters on the wall.

She was a teacher. All students were welcome. Anyone in the lower quarter could attend her classes if they wanted to. Whenever the residents were interested, had some free time from work, or just simply wanted to kill time, they would take a seat in a corner of the ‘classroom’ and listen in.

Her lessons mainly taught how to read and write simple words. There were never any schools in the poor lower quarter, and there were few families who could afford sending their children to school in the citizens' quarter on the ‘other side of the wall’. Most of the adults were unable to read or write, and even if they did, they had never thought of teaching it to anyone else.

Though often influenced by Norein’s condition — and the weather — her classes were usually held every day. While he couldn’t say he’d attended all of them, Yuri was a regular presence at her classes.

Him, and one more person — Norein’s son, Flynn. Despite not really needing them, he often showed up to her classes, though not as often as Yuri did. Those who came late could usually see the black-haired and golden-haired boys sitting nearly side by side in front of the teacher Norein.

“Okay, let’s all read it together again.”

As Norein pointed at the letters, everyone raised their voices in unison. Many of them were uncertain of the words, faltering in places like Yuri had, but even so, there was a certain sort of excitement seen in their expressions. The excitement of being able to touch something that had been inaccessible to them until now.

While everyone else paid attention to the wall, only Flynn watched his mother, with mixed feelings in his heart. He had already mastered the basics of reading and writing, and at this level of content, he could follow her lessons without much concentration needed.

Flynn looked at the expression on his mother’s face and acknowledged the gentle smile she now wore. It was something he hadn’t seen ever since they were driven out of the citizens' quarter, or more accurately, ever since the incident that had triggered it.

Ever since that day, the world had become a cold and cruel place to the mother and son. His mother had wilted like a flower suddenly thrown into winter. Flynn had witnessed it happen but couldn’t do anything to help, and had ended up feeling irritated and frustrated.

But then, like the sun shining through a gap in the thick clouds and illuminating the earth, a turning point occurred.

Flynn sneaked a glance at Yuri, who sat beside him reciting in a loud, stuttering voice. Every time he looked at this eccentric — That’s my line, he could almost hear the boy saying — boy, he would always feel a strange sensation wash over him.

There were still a lot of things Flynn didn’t know about Yuri, and occasionally, Yuri would do seemingly thoughtless things that made it hard to believe the person in question possessed any common sense.

Even so, Flynn couldn’t deny when they worked together, sometimes, that led to unexpected breakthroughs in situations. Though Flynn could say with absolute certainty that Yuri hadn’t meant to.

This time too, it was Flynn who had brought it up, but Yuri was the one who had served as the catalyst.

Who exactly are you? Flynn asked silently. But most likely, the person in question didn’t have an answer to that question either. He was sure of it. The moment he thought that, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of gratification.

Shaking his golden hair slightly, the boy concealed the smile starting to appear on his face.

****

——Going back to a few weeks ago.

Ever since that day, Yuri and Flynn, who had unexpectedly ended up co-owning a sword, began dedicating their free time to training. That being said, it wasn’t like they had anyone to teach them. Rather than training, what the two of them did could better be described as self-taught.

In Yuri’s case, he had to start with the basics, so it was safe to say his teacher was Flynn to some extent. However, this teacher-student relationship was fraught with difficulties from the very beginning.

“You’re doing it again! The centre of your stance is off! Straighten your back!”

“I am doing it. It’s like this, right?!”

“That’s not it, your back!”

“And I’m telling you I know that!”

Determined to improve, he had bowed his head and begged Flynn to teach him, but if he was constantly receiving negative criticisms from someone his age, it’s not like he could remain calm forever. On the other hand, it wasn’t as if Flynn had any particular skill for teaching. Differences in personality and skill aside, at the end of the day, both of them were still children lacking in discipline.

“It’s over. I give up. I’m done for today.”

Out of patience, Yuri tossed away his sword. Making no attempt to conceal his irritation, Flynn yelled at him.

“Don’t handle it so roughly! The sword doesn’t only belong to you!”

The fed-up Yuri looked away without answering. Despite that, when Flynn picked up the sword and began to do practice swings, he slowly started to feel restless, until in the end, he spoke.

“Give it back. I still want to practise.”

“I thought you said you were done for the day?”

“I changed my mind, so give it back!”

Ownership of the sword changes every day. But if the person gives up their rights, the other person can use it on the same day. That was the deal the two of them made.

Naturally, just because they give up their rights to use the sword on that day doesn’t mean they can use it on the next. If they gave up the rights without using it until they were satisfied, then the next day they’d have to endure feeling pent-up and stifled for the whole day. Yuri had experienced that more than once. Each time, he would swear to himself that he would never again abandon his sword halfway through training, but after listening to Flynn’s nagging, he would repeat the incident all over again. Which led to their current exchange.

If Flynn had to say, Yuri lacked not only patience but obedience as well — to a devastating extent.

No matter how much he taught Yuri, for some reason, not only would Yuri not follow his exact teachings, but he would also try to add on his own interpretations. It was only after he had tested enough of this and that, and was satisfied with it, that he would follow the original teachings. It was unavoidable that the process took a lot of time. More than anything, his attitude of questioning every single detail of what their ancestors had built upon and passed down felt irrelevant to Flynn — but despite that, once he was satisfied with it, his speed at absorbing it was something Flynn was forced to admit was remarkable.

Even though he didn’t say it out aloud, that wasn’t the only problem Flynn had with the sword. He had no qualms about sharing a sword that was once solely his. In fact, he was even grateful for the help in pooling together what little money they had and spending it all for the sake of buying a single sword.

The problem was having time for his own training. When he didn’t have the rights to use the sword, he had to teach Yuri — at his request — swordsmanship. Though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel any regret every time they argued, it couldn’t be helped, because that was the promise he made when they bought the sword. Even when he did have the rights to use the sword, it didn’t mean he could necessarily do as he pleased.

That was because as soon as Flynn started training, Yuri would immediately come up to him and bombard him with questions like ‘Why did you move like that?’ and ‘Why is your grip like that?’.

At first, Flynn had been touched by his enthusiasm and answered him, but after a while he found it was getting in the way of his training.

Those thoughts only grew stronger. Even though he’d finally gotten back his sword, he couldn’t hope to improve if this continued.

Of course, Yuri had no ulterior motives. He simply wanted to catch up to Flynn as soon as possible. His single-minded pursuit meant that if he saw something he didn’t know or understand, he would greedily strive to master it.

Flynn knew that Yuri wasn’t doing it out of maliciousness, and thus couldn’t refuse him, and continued to nurture his progress. Of course, if actually doing it was as easy as the rationale behind it, then they wouldn’t be having so much trouble right now. Naturally his words became more and more harsh, and because of that now it was Yuri’s turn to be unamused. He didn’t think he was making any mistakes, and instead was being criticised more harshly than necessary, which made him feel even more dissatisfied.

They had finally obtained a sword, and in truth, due to their training, they had gotten better than they thought they had. But at this rate, they would be hastening not just the destruction of their sword, but also their relationship and everything in between.

What changed all that, was thanks to a single book.

****

On that day, Flynn had ownership of the sword. For once, there was no sign of Yuri, and Flynn could swing his sword to his heart’s content in front of his house. He would reflect upon the instructions he had once been given, and repeat them over and over again, to confirm that his body had really memorised them.

For him, this was akin to a ritual of sorts, that allowed him to regain the bond he had lost, or perhaps to prevent him from forgetting those memories.

His mother hadn’t been feeling well lately, and even now was in the house, resting. When he had confessed to her about getting back his sword, Norein had said nothing, only showing an expression that he couldn’t tell was sad or smiling.

She knew. As he swung his sword, Flynn thought. That there was no way her son could have gotten back the sword on his own. Flynn had only told her that he had properly paid money to buy it back, and his mother had accepted it without prying any further.

Flynn continued swinging his sword single-mindedly.

Eventually, when he was convinced that the fundamentals were firmly ingrained within him, Flynn picked up a book from on top of the barrel next to him that served as a makeshift table.

The simple binding was dirty and worn, but not to the point that the text was unreadable. Rather than being treated poorly, it was the result of many hands having flipped through the pages for a long time.

Flynn also handled the book with much more care than with his sword. Careful not to let the sweat dripping down his face fall onto the pages, he slowly opened it and searched for the page he was looking for.

Many of the pages had illustrations drawn on them in addition to text — illustrations of a person in armour holding a sword in different stances.

Flynn’s finger stopped on a certain page. He traced the words with his fingertips as he read them. He stared at the numerous illustrations on the page until his gaze could almost bore a hole into them. Then, with that page open, he put the book back on the barrel and picked up the sword again.

He closed his eyes and pictured in his mind the illustration he had just seen. He slowly changed his posture until it overlapped with the image in his mind. If not the same, then as similar as possible. Once he was satisfied, for a while he would stand still in that position, before moving onto the stance shown in the next illustration.

Try out the stance, memorise it in mind and body, and once satisfied, swiftly repeat them as a series of movements. Over and over again.

The feedback from his body was good. He could feel the movements becoming ingrained into his body. If he continued this for a few more rounds, he felt like he might be able to grasp something—

“Is that the basis for your swordsmanship?”

The sudden voice interrupted his thoughts. The light almost within his reach faded away.

He was so close. He had almost reached it, but it had slipped away at the last moment. The opportunity was lost. Panting and drenched in sweat, Flynn turned and shot Yuri a glare.

At some point during his training, Yuri had arrived. Completely oblivious to what was going through Flynn’s mind, without even looking at Flynn, the black-haired boy’s gaze was fixed on the book on top of the barrel.

“……It’s a training manual for swordsmanship.”

There were so many things he wanted to say, but Flynn only managed to get out that much, shoulders heaving as he gasped for air.

Yuri got closer and peered at the book. Flynn felt the pit of his stomach grow hot. Though he knew Yuri didn’t mean any harm, even now, he couldn’t quite get used to how the residents of the lower quarter could occasionally act bluntly and tactlessly.

“That’s important to me.”

Flynn murmured, and Yuri must have sensed something, because he pulled back his outstretched hand. But his eyes remained glued to the book, refusing to look away, like a hungry beast staring down a feast placed in front of it.

“Hey, does that mean if I read this, I’ll be able to master swordsmanship like you? And learn even more amazing techniques—”

“It doesn't do something as convenient as that.”

Feeling as if his pride had been hurt, Flynn couldn’t help but raise his voice and say.

“Well, I guess that’s true.”

Yuri readily shrugged his shoulders.

“Just listening to you talk doesn’t help me at all. But if I practise according to what’s written here, I’ll be able to get by somehow, right?”

“……At least, that’s what I believe.”

It might just be possible. Flynn’s voice lowered as he remembered he was on the verge of realising a part of that just a moments ago.

When he’d lost his previous way of life, he had lost many things, but this book was one of the few possessions he couldn’t bear to part with. It felt painful to let go of the sword, but he told himself that he’d be able to obtain one again someday. But the book was different. This book was the teaching itself. The sword was a vessel. But what was written in the book held a soul that must be kept within. Of the person who gave it to him, and then sacrificed himself.

If I have this, I can get closer to him. No matter how it looked to others, to Flynn, that was his truth.

“Hey, let’s make it so I can read this too.”

Not picking up on Flynn’s thoughts in the slightest, Yuri said.

He says it so easily. He doesn’t even know how much respect I have for the knowledge written in this book. He doesn’t even know how symbolic this book is to me. Even though he knew it was due to ignorance, Flynn couldn’t hold back his anger.

First of all, Yuri. He has both a strong interest and a lack of patience. No matter how much he reads, will he be able to continue practising patiently until he masters the techniques?

Recalling the arguments they had during training, and the interruptions during his own sword practice, and all the other numerous exchanges they’ve had until now, Flynn felt like he had been put in an incredibly unfair situation. Mix in the painful memories of the hardships he had gone through before he’d met Yuri, and he felt ready to explode.

Suddenly, something inside of him seized the reins within him. Like calming a rampaging horse or whispering to a restless spirit, it spoke. Calm down. Calm yourself. Don’t let your emotions get the better of you. That, too, was a lesson Flynn had once been taught, a lesson almost as precious to him as his sword techniques.

Flynn took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. As if he was expelling his violent emotions with it. His irritation didn’t completely subside, so naturally his voice was filled with barbs as he spoke.

“You can read it if you want to,” the golden-haired boy said curtly. “But if you damage anything, I will never forgive you.”

“Um, even if you say that…”

Yuri said as he scratched the back of his black-haired head. The irritation came back. What? Are you saying that’s not enough for you?

“……I, can’t read.”

“Ah……”

The unexpected words left Flynn speechless. In the place where he used to live, it was only natural for even commoners to be able to read and write. In fact, if they couldn’t, you could say it would be a terrible hindrance to their daily life.

But here, in the lower quarter.

Flynn looked at the training manual just sitting there. Then he thought about the various books and texts he had come into contact with. To think that they couldn’t read any of that. To think that they had been kept from being able to access anything written in there.

Once again Flynn was shocked at the way of life in the lower quarter. As for Yuri, after seeing Flynn’s reaction, he started to look a little embarrassed.

Flynn suddenly felt ashamed of himself.

“But… I’ve never taught anyone to read or write.”

“You’re teaching me how to use a sword. It’s pretty much the same, right?”

Yuri said nonchalantly. That easygoing demeanour of his made Flynn feel like he had been rescued. That being said, what should he do?

“Hey, please?”

“I can’t do something like that so easily…”

Suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind.

“……Mother.”

“Mother? Yours?”

Flynn nodded slowly, as if confirming his own idea.

“She even teaches me from time to time. My mother might be able to teach you.”

Now it was Yuri’s turn to wince. It had been a long time since then, but the memory of Flynn’s mother’s attitude towards him on the day he had first confronted Flynn was still fresh in his memory. He still remembered how the atmosphere back then was by no means friendly.

The training manual on the barrel caught his eye. Hidden in there were the secret techniques for swordsmanship. If I can read it, I can catch up to Flynn that much quicker. If I can read it—

Yuri turned back to Flynn.

“I understand. I’ll be counting on you.”

“Okay, but not today. Mother isn’t feeling well, and right now she’s asleep.”

“Sure. As long as she can teach me, I have no complaints.”

As if feeling refreshed, Yuri smiled.

“I’ll go back for today. I hope your mother feels better soon.”

As if he could hurry up and master the contents of the training manual, Yuri waved his hand and left with an incredible lightness in his steps.

Flynn was left alone again. He looked in the direction of the leaving Yuri, and then in the direction of the house where his mother was. Does Yuri really intend to study? Will Mother accept? He had no idea.

Did he make a hasty promise without considering the condition his mother was in? His mind was now filled with such concerns.

He caught sight of the still-open training manual. It was then he realised he had been gripping his sword the whole time. Its blade gleamed brightly, as if protesting that Flynn had forgotten all about its existence.

Flynn shook his head, also shaking off the thoughts swirling inside his heart. Let’s not think about that right now. Just for now. Recalling the illustration drawn in the training manual once again, the boy readied his sword and swung it fiercely, as if to sever away all of his doubts.

****

Hasty or not, once he gave it, Flynn had no intention of breaking his promise. It had taken a while for Norein to recover, but surprisingly Yuri hadn’t tried to rush him, and Flynn was grateful for that.

Eventually his mother managed to recover and Flynn asked her about the matter of reading and writing. At first, Norein had listened to him with a somewhat dubious look on her face, but after he was done and was nervously gauging her reaction, she spoke.

“Alright, let’s give it a try. I don’t know if it will go as well as when I taught you, but this if your first request since we came here. Besides…”

Norein paused, and smiled gently at her son.

“This is for the sake of the first friend you made here.”

Friend. He had thought it to himself, but hearing it so clearly from someone else’s mouth, and it was his mother’s, no less, made him feel embarrassed. Forgetting his surprise at his mother’s quick acceptance of his request, Flynn felt his cheeks grow hot.

In any case, it looked like he was going to be able to fulfil his promise. Now all Yuri has to do is — wait a minute. Will he be attending school here? On the days when he doesn’t have ownership rights to the sword? In other words, I’ll be seeing him not only during training but also at my house every day? That in itself was something to think about.

However, things unfolded in a manner even more unexpected than Flynn had anticipated.

A few days after Flynn told Yuri that his mother had agreed, there was a soft knock on his house’s front door, as gentle as a fallen leaf. When he opened it he saw an elderly man standing there alone, with a gentle face along with his hunched back.

“……Mister Hanks?”

“Oh, Flynn, you look well. I have something to discuss with your mother, is she free to talk right now?”

****

“Everyone… I, um…”

Holding a hand to her chest, Norein said, looking lost in thought. In front of her Hanks stood there, nodding his head.

“There are a lot of people in the lower quarter who can’t read or write, but there aren’t a lot of people who are good enough to teach it. It’d be a great help if you would teach them.”

Yuri was supposed to be her only student, but in a short period of time the conversation had taken an unexpected turn. Perhaps because Yuri looked unusually happy, or because he seemed so far from his usual composed self — Jiri and the other adults had thought he was up to his usual sinister schemes and grilled him until he confessed. At first Yuri had been evasive and tried to avoid answering, but in the end he had cracked and told them everything.

Now knowing that this had all started because of the sword, Jiri had only frowned slightly and said nothing more. In fact, she was secretly surprised. She had never thought that Yuri of all people would say he wanted to study.

But Hanks, who had also been listening, had another idea. A teacher had appeared in the lower quarter. Why should she only have one student?

“Of course, I have no intention of asking you to do it for free. It’s a respected job, after all. I intend to keep that in mind.”

Thus, Norein became a teacher in the lower quarter, and taught all who desired to learn. She had no textbooks or formal training, but her experience in teaching her son proved to be useful.

Flynn had objected to it, worried it would worsen her health, but Norein had decided all on her own to step out of her house. The classroom was in a corner of the plaza in the centre of Fountain Alley. In place of a textbook, she would use charcoal to write letters on the building’s wall. After class, the students for the day would clean the walls. Tuition fees were paid in small change and food.

Most of the students were adults. Like Hanks said, it was rare for anyone in the lower quarter to be able to read and write. Flynn was once again made aware that this place was fundamentally different from the place he had lived before.

Jareth and the other children were not among the people who came to learn. Most of them showed up out of curiosity, but soon got bored and left, until Yuri was the only one that remained. The only time Yuri was generally only absent when his manual work coincided with the lesson timings.

Of course, even Yuri wasn’t able to maintain his concentration all of the time — just as Flynn had predicted. There were times where he felt like he couldn’t keep up with the lessons, or felt the lessons were becoming too monotonous, and would keep away for a while. But he would always come back to class — for two main reasons.

He still hadn’t gotten tired of sword training, which meant that whether he liked it or not, he would still see Flynn swinging his sword with the training manual by his side. Each time, a feeling similar to impatience would be revived in him.

Besides, when all was said and done, the reason Norein had come all the way to the plaza at the risk of her health was originally because of Yuri’s request. He couldn’t forget that and abandon her lessons.

With Yuri now fully devoted to his lessons, on the days when Flynn had the sword, he was able to swing his sword undisturbed and to his heart’s content. As he threw himself into his training all alone, more than once, he’d experience a large breakthrough and unthinkingly cry out in joy.

However, gradually, the thought that this result had only been possible because he had pushed Yuri onto his mother started to occupy his mind. Ever since the incident that had led them to move to the lower quarter, his mother had become incredibly frail in both mind and body. Yet day after day, she would go out to the plaza, saying it was her job.

Guilty and worried, Flynn headed towards the plaza.

But when he arrived, his eyes widened. He was his mother standing there, passionately delivering a lecture. She still looked thin and fragile as ever, but he could definitely feel the aura of determination and vigour emanating from her. It wasn’t comparable to before, but still, it was the first time since their move to the lower quarter that he had seen a light in her eyes.

This was something beyond comprehension to the young Flynn, but Norein’s change was not without reason.

Before coming to the lower quarter, she had lived a comfortable, not to say wealthy life. Then one day, she had been kicked out and left with almost nothing to her name, and no one around her willing to lend her a helping hand. Norein’s mind and body had suffered a huge blow, and poverty had taken an even bigger toll on her.

Poverty was only one of the factors. The people of the lower quarter had done all they could to help the mother and son who had nothing on them and no means of making a living. Housing and food became a source of inner conflict, and Norein was tormented by it. To put it simply, she had no choice but to rely on the charity of others around her to survive. Even though she had nothing to offer in return. If she was alone, she would have chosen to starve to death. But even as she argued that this was for her son’s sake, her miserable state remained unchanged, and that tormented her and drove her to illness.

But right now, even if it was a small thing, the people around her needed her, and even thanked her for it. Even though it was incredibly tiring for her to travel from her house to the plaza every day, she had regained her reason to live. And, a little bit of her pride, too.

Surprised and touched by his mother’s liveliness, and as if he had been guided to, Flynn joined in on the lessons. He could sense something else present in her lessons — something different from just learning how to read and write.

Noticing Flynn’s nosy presence, Yuri made space next to him. At first, Flynn had felt uncomfortable sitting right in front of his mother, but after a while he had gotten used to it.

His mother didn’t make any particular sign that she had noticed him, but she seemed somewhat happy.

****

And so, Flynn once again became his mother’s student. Since he had already learned most of the basic fundamentals of reading and writing, he rarely had the opportunity to learn anything new. But occasionally he would come to the plaza and read out aloud the words written on the wall with Yuri. Sometimes he would help his mother, writing the letters in charcoal while everyone watched.

Although her voice remained soft, his mother continued to conduct her lectures smoothly, and Yuri — for the most part — continued to learn enthusiastically.

It had been a completely unexpected turn of events, but maybe this was for the best. Thinking in a corner of his mind what kind of training he should do after this, Flynn returned his attention to the lesson in front of him.

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#Tales of Vesperia #Genealogy of the Condemned #Danzaisha no Keifu #Tales of Vesperia: Genealogy of the Condemned #delicate posts #delicate translations #so fun fact yuri is writing 'yuri lowell' on his slate #idk what norein is writing actually

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