Words rhyming with ethan
Word Avalanches: incredibly contrived setups for homophonic punchlines
2014.02.11 09:11 Mish106 Word Avalanches: incredibly contrived setups for homophonic punchlines
Word Avalanches: incredibly contrived setups for homophonic punchlines.
2016.11.13 21:19 Valkeezy Drabble, drabble, drabble.
Strictly 100 word stories.
2023.12.23 17:04 wannasleepallthetime Tyoe Wutg Uour Eues Closed
A subeddit to type funny words or sentences with your eyes closed, or let autocomplete finish it! credit for the idea goes to:u/EthanGaming7640 Don't forget to turn your autocorrect off!
2024.05.21 20:18 nmnhyaou Grade Level for Book I Wrote
I wrote a rhyming children's story, but I need some help with determining the grade level of some of the words. Some of the words are advanced/ not used in everyday language, so for those words I plan on doing a word glossary in the back of the book. I made a list of every word that could be challenging and found a document that had lists of words for grades 2-6. A fair amount were 5th and 6th grade words but there is still a decent amount unaccounted for. Instead of going through the rest of the lower grades, I'd love some help from middle school and even elementary school teachers in helping me understand what words should be listed in the glossary. My target audience is 6th grade plus I guess. I don't want a massive amount of words that have to be looked up so I'm thinking about cutting the words 6th grade and lower (my reasoning is that if 6th graders are learning the grade 6 words they won't need to look those up?). I won't do them all at once, because that would be a very long post, but I will include a third of all the words I'm wondering about and the grade level with the ones I found on that list beside them... I'll post up the rest of the words later
Hollow, bestow 6, afar, auburn, unspoiled, envy 5, pride, taint, abide, fowl, deep, bough 4, furrow, whence, awry, imply, dusk, forth, upon, peer 4, shed, pelt 6, reveal 6, raven 5, adorn, grace, wisdom, bid, grotto, offer, deed 5, lore 6, seek, grant 6, seer, unique 6, refined, gaze, glimpse, wax, rift 6, looking-glass, morph, fantastical, region, remote, expanse, trance 6, craft, malevolent, mage, dim, grim 5, lend, advice, faithful, feat 6, defeat 5, sinewy 6, resplendent, proud, gloom, magnify, ajar 5, chide, chagrin, account, tragic, grief 5, greed 6, tsar 6, selfish, pitfall 6, heed, covetous, naught, glade 5, duke, doom 5, seize, amongst, den 4, emerge, glen, henceforth, stalk, passerby, cower, plague 5, pitying, determine 5, lavish, lair 5, abode, perilous, gnarled, palatial, serpentine, descend 5, stir, ripple, burnished, chainmail, grit 5, wit 5, approach, absolute 5, awkward, court, resort 5, convince 4, fateful, claim 5, blight, fiendish, transform 6, scour, pity, glum, vainglory, depart 5, overdue, union 6, sovereign, mount 6, debut 6, civilian, malice, revenge 6, barbarous, brute 5, bridle 5, control 4, command, capture, present, ally 6, reveal, remorse 6, realm, haughtiness 6, humility, issued 5, decree 6, reign 5, helm 6, flair 5, savory, perilous, snare 5, complete, feat 6, might, ponder 6, alight, quest, possession, footman, intricate, compare 4, coffer, valuable, garment 6, balmy, endow, ornate 5, bejeweled, eve, deceive 6, valiant, tarnish 6, uncertain, untold, trinket, allay, bay, worth, sustain, cease, lush 6, gracious, revel, depart 5, sole, gleefully 5, glided, device 5, clever
submitted by nmnhyaou to AskTeachers [link] [comments]
Hollow, bestow 6, afar, auburn, unspoiled, envy 5, pride, taint, abide, fowl, deep, bough 4, furrow, whence, awry, imply, dusk, forth, upon, peer 4, shed, pelt 6, reveal 6, raven 5, adorn, grace, wisdom, bid, grotto, offer, deed 5, lore 6, seek, grant 6, seer, unique 6, refined, gaze, glimpse, wax, rift 6, looking-glass, morph, fantastical, region, remote, expanse, trance 6, craft, malevolent, mage, dim, grim 5, lend, advice, faithful, feat 6, defeat 5, sinewy 6, resplendent, proud, gloom, magnify, ajar 5, chide, chagrin, account, tragic, grief 5, greed 6, tsar 6, selfish, pitfall 6, heed, covetous, naught, glade 5, duke, doom 5, seize, amongst, den 4, emerge, glen, henceforth, stalk, passerby, cower, plague 5, pitying, determine 5, lavish, lair 5, abode, perilous, gnarled, palatial, serpentine, descend 5, stir, ripple, burnished, chainmail, grit 5, wit 5, approach, absolute 5, awkward, court, resort 5, convince 4, fateful, claim 5, blight, fiendish, transform 6, scour, pity, glum, vainglory, depart 5, overdue, union 6, sovereign, mount 6, debut 6, civilian, malice, revenge 6, barbarous, brute 5, bridle 5, control 4, command, capture, present, ally 6, reveal, remorse 6, realm, haughtiness 6, humility, issued 5, decree 6, reign 5, helm 6, flair 5, savory, perilous, snare 5, complete, feat 6, might, ponder 6, alight, quest, possession, footman, intricate, compare 4, coffer, valuable, garment 6, balmy, endow, ornate 5, bejeweled, eve, deceive 6, valiant, tarnish 6, uncertain, untold, trinket, allay, bay, worth, sustain, cease, lush 6, gracious, revel, depart 5, sole, gleefully 5, glided, device 5, clever
2024.05.21 19:44 Calledinthe90s 14: Revenge on my Grade Nine English Teacher
This was originally posted to pettyrevenge, but for some reason got taken down. So here goes:
The revenge I took on my grade nine English teacher was so petty that I hesitate to write about it. But Mrs. Bristle (for that is the name I will give her) was cruel to me every chance she got, and she made my first year in high school a misery. So when a file with her name on it arrived at my office, my first thought was not that I would beat her (for I was certain that I would) but rather, of the revenge I would take along the way.
I was pushing forty when Mrs. Bristle’s file hit my desk, some estate litigation where a mother’s last will and testament left my clients next to nothing, and gave their sister, Mrs. Bristle, pretty well the entire estate. When I saw the defendant’s name it looked familiar, and after a bit of Googling, I confirmed what I suspected: the defendant, Mrs. Bristle, was my former grade nine English teacher.
I remembered Mrs. Bristle very well. She was supposed to be teaching us the wonders of English literature, but what she really taught us were her rules, by which she meant her arbitrary whims, expressed in vague language, backed up by petty punishments for non-compliance. There was an art to getting along with Mrs. Bristle, and while most of the other kids learned it easily enough, somehow I did not. I have trouble learning unwritten rules, and in Mrs. Bristle’s class where unwritten and constantly changing rules were the order of the day, I didn’t stand a chance. Mrs. Bristle admonished me almost daily for ‘not paying attention’. I did detentions, re-wrote assignments, and made visits to the principal’s office, all because I apparently wasn’t listening, wasn’t doing what I was told.
Many was the time when Mrs. Bristle took me to task for missing some obvious but unstated part of an assignment. One time I handed in a sonnet, and received an “F” because the rhyming pattern was Petrarchan, not Shakespearean. But she would be nice to me, Mrs. Bristle would always say when she tossed my work back at me. She would give me another chance to hand the assignment in with the arbitrary changes she required, in the end giving me a good mark, but then heavily downgraded for being late.
Mrs. Bristle's case worked its way through the early stages, and every time I exchanged an email with her (for she was a self-rep, no need for counsel, she claimed) I thought about the unpleasant time I’d spent in her class. I had a rough time in high school, and I always resent anything that makes me dwell on it.
After a few months, the case was ready for the next stage. It was time to examine Mrs. Bristle, to find out why she thought her mother wanted to disinherit most of the family and enrich Mrs. Bristle alone. I showed up at the court reporter’s office early as usual, to get set up.
“What’s that shit eating grin on your face?” Adam asked. He was a lawyer colleague, about my vintage, and we were sitting in the lounge for lawyers only, the room that most court reporter’s offices have, a place for the lawyers to hang out and shoot the shit, no clients allowed.
“I’m going to examine my grade nine English teacher today,” I said, “and it's going to be fun.” I explained how she’d hated me back in the day, and had done her best to make my life hell.
“What’s the case about?” Adam said. Adam had been around the block, same as me, and it took only a few words for me to summarize everything that mattered in the file. “Estate fight, one sibling against four, undue influence, holograph will cutting out most of the siblings, competing with an older will, a formal one, where the shares are equal.”
Adam nodded appreciatively. “Nice fees, if the estate’s got the cash.”
“It does,” I said. We chatted for a bit, and then sat there in silence as we each did the last bit of prep for the cases we had that day, making notes, reading documents and drinking coffee. My alarm dinged just before ten, and I made my way to the examination room, and Mrs. Bristle, the teacher who’d greatly disliked the grade nine version of Calledinthe90s. I was curious to see if she would like the older version any better.
* * *
The examination started, and Mrs. Bristle and I sparred for a while, me tossing vague questions her way, and criticizing her when she did not understand. I kept her on the defensive for close to three hours, until it was getting on to one p.m.
“Aren’t you in a conflict or something?” she said to me just before the lunch break, when she’d finally made the connection, and understood that the lawyer asking her questions was a former student.
“No conflict,” I said, dismissing her concerns with a wave of my hand. “During the lunch break, there’s something I need you to do.”
“I don’t want to answer questions during lunch. I need a break.” The examination had been rough on Mrs. Bristle. She was not used to being asked questions, to being held to account, to being constantly challenged, and even having her grammar corrected now and again.
“You’ll get your lunch break. But while you’re eating a sandwich or whatever, keep this copy of the holograph will next to you.” The will on which Mrs. Bristle’s case relied was a holograph will, meaning that Mrs. Bristle’s mother had written the will entirely in hand from start to finish. The mother, or more likely, Mrs. Bristle herself, had downloaded a holograph will form from the web, and had completed it in accordance with the website’s instructions. Holograph wills are special. You can do a holograph will without a witness, without a lawyer, without anything at all, so long as you did it right. But if you got anything wrong, if you messed up in any way, it was invalid.
“You want me to read the will again over lunch?” Mrs. Bristle said.
“No. Instead, I want you to make a handwritten copy of it.”
“You want me to write it out? Whatever for?”
“There’s an allegation that the will wasn’t written by your mother, and that you wrote it up instead.” An allegation that I’d made up myself, that morning, while I was sitting in the lawyer's lounge, drinking coffee and munching on a muffin. My clients had not challenged the will’s handwriting; it was obviously their mother’s, totally different from Mrs. Bristle’s own writing. But I had decided otherwise.
Mrs. Bristle was appropriately outraged at being unjustly accused of forgery. Said she could prove it wasn’t her handwriting, could absolutely prove it.
“Then let’s settle the forgery issue once and for all,” I said, “write out the will in your own hand, so that our document experts can examine it, compare it with the original, and make a determination.”
“I don’t need the entire lunch break for that,” Mrs. Bristle said, “and I’d rather eat lunch at the restaurant downstairs.” The will was barely a page long, at most three hundred words, that being all it took for the mother to allegedly disinherit most of her children, and inexplicably leave everything to Mrs. Bristle. The mother had written up the will herself, but she’d been ninety at the time, while living in Mrs. Bristle’s house, and very much under her influence.
“I’ve retained five different experts,” I said, “and each of them will need copies.”
“Five experts? Why so many experts?”
“Each expert needs ten samples, for comparison purposes. It’s going to take you a while, Mrs. Bristle. I suggest you get started.” I overrode her protests and once she started to write, I left her in the room, and went to the lawyer’s lounge to eat their small sandwiches and drink more of the excellent coffee. After a while I stopped by the examination room to look in on Mrs. Bristle. I wanted to check in on her progress.
Mrs. Bristle asked for more time, complained of writer’s cramp, and asked me again if it was really necessary for her to write out the holograph will fifty times in her own hand, and I assured her that there was nothing for it, that it was absolutely necessary. I returned to the lounge to check my emails, leaving her hard at the homework I’d given her.
After a while my colleague, Adam, popped into the lounge. He asked me how it was going, the examination with the teacher, the teacher who had treated me so badly.
“I’m making her write lines.” Adam laughed, and laughed harder when I explained that I wasn’t kidding, that I really was making Mrs. Bristle write lines, and how I was doing it. His laughter attracted attention, and a few other lawyers asked what was up. “He’s making his teacher witness write lines,” Adam said, and the lawyer’s lounge hooted with laughter when I told everyone what was up.
It was one of the pettiest things I’ve ever done to anyone, making my grade nine teacher write lines. But the writing lines thing was just a warmup. The real revenge had yet to come. I returned to the examination room after a while, to check up on Mrs. Bristle, see how she was doing.
“This is taking forever,” she said, “and I really don’t get why you need it.” She had writer’s cramp, and was shaking her hand to get the kinks out. I picked up the stack of holograph wills she’d created, and flipped through it. She was nowhere near finished.
“On second thought,” I said, “maybe it isn’t necessary. I think you’re right. I don’t need any handwriting samples from you.”
“Why not?” she said.
“The will is invalid,” I explained, adding that because her mother had used a pre-printed form off the web, the law would not recognize the will. “A holograph will has to be entirely in the testator's handwriting,” I explained, “every single word entirely in handwriting from start to finish. This will doesn’t qualify, because your mother used a standard form, a form printed off the web, with instructions and boxes and questions and so on, and when you do that, then the will is no longer a holograph will. It’s a regular will, and regular wills need to be properly witnessed. This one isn’t witnessed, and that means it’s not a will. It’s just a piece of paper.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you only figured that out now? What kind of lawyer are you, anyways?”
“What kind of lawyer am I? I’m a lawyer who makes a witness skip lunch, and sit in a small room all alone, and write lines. Sound familiar, Mrs. Bristle?” She said nothing, and just stared at me. I closed the door on her, leaving her alone once more, and left for the Middle Temple Tavern where the lawyers all hung out. It was time to hoist a Guinness and enjoy my petty triumph.
submitted by Calledinthe90s to Calledinthe90s [link] [comments]
The revenge I took on my grade nine English teacher was so petty that I hesitate to write about it. But Mrs. Bristle (for that is the name I will give her) was cruel to me every chance she got, and she made my first year in high school a misery. So when a file with her name on it arrived at my office, my first thought was not that I would beat her (for I was certain that I would) but rather, of the revenge I would take along the way.
I was pushing forty when Mrs. Bristle’s file hit my desk, some estate litigation where a mother’s last will and testament left my clients next to nothing, and gave their sister, Mrs. Bristle, pretty well the entire estate. When I saw the defendant’s name it looked familiar, and after a bit of Googling, I confirmed what I suspected: the defendant, Mrs. Bristle, was my former grade nine English teacher.
I remembered Mrs. Bristle very well. She was supposed to be teaching us the wonders of English literature, but what she really taught us were her rules, by which she meant her arbitrary whims, expressed in vague language, backed up by petty punishments for non-compliance. There was an art to getting along with Mrs. Bristle, and while most of the other kids learned it easily enough, somehow I did not. I have trouble learning unwritten rules, and in Mrs. Bristle’s class where unwritten and constantly changing rules were the order of the day, I didn’t stand a chance. Mrs. Bristle admonished me almost daily for ‘not paying attention’. I did detentions, re-wrote assignments, and made visits to the principal’s office, all because I apparently wasn’t listening, wasn’t doing what I was told.
Many was the time when Mrs. Bristle took me to task for missing some obvious but unstated part of an assignment. One time I handed in a sonnet, and received an “F” because the rhyming pattern was Petrarchan, not Shakespearean. But she would be nice to me, Mrs. Bristle would always say when she tossed my work back at me. She would give me another chance to hand the assignment in with the arbitrary changes she required, in the end giving me a good mark, but then heavily downgraded for being late.
Mrs. Bristle's case worked its way through the early stages, and every time I exchanged an email with her (for she was a self-rep, no need for counsel, she claimed) I thought about the unpleasant time I’d spent in her class. I had a rough time in high school, and I always resent anything that makes me dwell on it.
After a few months, the case was ready for the next stage. It was time to examine Mrs. Bristle, to find out why she thought her mother wanted to disinherit most of the family and enrich Mrs. Bristle alone. I showed up at the court reporter’s office early as usual, to get set up.
“What’s that shit eating grin on your face?” Adam asked. He was a lawyer colleague, about my vintage, and we were sitting in the lounge for lawyers only, the room that most court reporter’s offices have, a place for the lawyers to hang out and shoot the shit, no clients allowed.
“I’m going to examine my grade nine English teacher today,” I said, “and it's going to be fun.” I explained how she’d hated me back in the day, and had done her best to make my life hell.
“What’s the case about?” Adam said. Adam had been around the block, same as me, and it took only a few words for me to summarize everything that mattered in the file. “Estate fight, one sibling against four, undue influence, holograph will cutting out most of the siblings, competing with an older will, a formal one, where the shares are equal.”
Adam nodded appreciatively. “Nice fees, if the estate’s got the cash.”
“It does,” I said. We chatted for a bit, and then sat there in silence as we each did the last bit of prep for the cases we had that day, making notes, reading documents and drinking coffee. My alarm dinged just before ten, and I made my way to the examination room, and Mrs. Bristle, the teacher who’d greatly disliked the grade nine version of Calledinthe90s. I was curious to see if she would like the older version any better.
* * *
The examination started, and Mrs. Bristle and I sparred for a while, me tossing vague questions her way, and criticizing her when she did not understand. I kept her on the defensive for close to three hours, until it was getting on to one p.m.
“Aren’t you in a conflict or something?” she said to me just before the lunch break, when she’d finally made the connection, and understood that the lawyer asking her questions was a former student.
“No conflict,” I said, dismissing her concerns with a wave of my hand. “During the lunch break, there’s something I need you to do.”
“I don’t want to answer questions during lunch. I need a break.” The examination had been rough on Mrs. Bristle. She was not used to being asked questions, to being held to account, to being constantly challenged, and even having her grammar corrected now and again.
“You’ll get your lunch break. But while you’re eating a sandwich or whatever, keep this copy of the holograph will next to you.” The will on which Mrs. Bristle’s case relied was a holograph will, meaning that Mrs. Bristle’s mother had written the will entirely in hand from start to finish. The mother, or more likely, Mrs. Bristle herself, had downloaded a holograph will form from the web, and had completed it in accordance with the website’s instructions. Holograph wills are special. You can do a holograph will without a witness, without a lawyer, without anything at all, so long as you did it right. But if you got anything wrong, if you messed up in any way, it was invalid.
“You want me to read the will again over lunch?” Mrs. Bristle said.
“No. Instead, I want you to make a handwritten copy of it.”
“You want me to write it out? Whatever for?”
“There’s an allegation that the will wasn’t written by your mother, and that you wrote it up instead.” An allegation that I’d made up myself, that morning, while I was sitting in the lawyer's lounge, drinking coffee and munching on a muffin. My clients had not challenged the will’s handwriting; it was obviously their mother’s, totally different from Mrs. Bristle’s own writing. But I had decided otherwise.
Mrs. Bristle was appropriately outraged at being unjustly accused of forgery. Said she could prove it wasn’t her handwriting, could absolutely prove it.
“Then let’s settle the forgery issue once and for all,” I said, “write out the will in your own hand, so that our document experts can examine it, compare it with the original, and make a determination.”
“I don’t need the entire lunch break for that,” Mrs. Bristle said, “and I’d rather eat lunch at the restaurant downstairs.” The will was barely a page long, at most three hundred words, that being all it took for the mother to allegedly disinherit most of her children, and inexplicably leave everything to Mrs. Bristle. The mother had written up the will herself, but she’d been ninety at the time, while living in Mrs. Bristle’s house, and very much under her influence.
“I’ve retained five different experts,” I said, “and each of them will need copies.”
“Five experts? Why so many experts?”
“Each expert needs ten samples, for comparison purposes. It’s going to take you a while, Mrs. Bristle. I suggest you get started.” I overrode her protests and once she started to write, I left her in the room, and went to the lawyer’s lounge to eat their small sandwiches and drink more of the excellent coffee. After a while I stopped by the examination room to look in on Mrs. Bristle. I wanted to check in on her progress.
Mrs. Bristle asked for more time, complained of writer’s cramp, and asked me again if it was really necessary for her to write out the holograph will fifty times in her own hand, and I assured her that there was nothing for it, that it was absolutely necessary. I returned to the lounge to check my emails, leaving her hard at the homework I’d given her.
After a while my colleague, Adam, popped into the lounge. He asked me how it was going, the examination with the teacher, the teacher who had treated me so badly.
“I’m making her write lines.” Adam laughed, and laughed harder when I explained that I wasn’t kidding, that I really was making Mrs. Bristle write lines, and how I was doing it. His laughter attracted attention, and a few other lawyers asked what was up. “He’s making his teacher witness write lines,” Adam said, and the lawyer’s lounge hooted with laughter when I told everyone what was up.
It was one of the pettiest things I’ve ever done to anyone, making my grade nine teacher write lines. But the writing lines thing was just a warmup. The real revenge had yet to come. I returned to the examination room after a while, to check up on Mrs. Bristle, see how she was doing.
“This is taking forever,” she said, “and I really don’t get why you need it.” She had writer’s cramp, and was shaking her hand to get the kinks out. I picked up the stack of holograph wills she’d created, and flipped through it. She was nowhere near finished.
“On second thought,” I said, “maybe it isn’t necessary. I think you’re right. I don’t need any handwriting samples from you.”
“Why not?” she said.
“The will is invalid,” I explained, adding that because her mother had used a pre-printed form off the web, the law would not recognize the will. “A holograph will has to be entirely in the testator's handwriting,” I explained, “every single word entirely in handwriting from start to finish. This will doesn’t qualify, because your mother used a standard form, a form printed off the web, with instructions and boxes and questions and so on, and when you do that, then the will is no longer a holograph will. It’s a regular will, and regular wills need to be properly witnessed. This one isn’t witnessed, and that means it’s not a will. It’s just a piece of paper.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you only figured that out now? What kind of lawyer are you, anyways?”
“What kind of lawyer am I? I’m a lawyer who makes a witness skip lunch, and sit in a small room all alone, and write lines. Sound familiar, Mrs. Bristle?” She said nothing, and just stared at me. I closed the door on her, leaving her alone once more, and left for the Middle Temple Tavern where the lawyers all hung out. It was time to hoist a Guinness and enjoy my petty triumph.
2024.05.21 17:48 TheLastRiter I never should have gone to this farmhouse alone [Part 2]
[Part 1]
Day 3
I woke the next morning from the sunshine in my eyes. My head was resting ever so slightly on Eli's arm as we had both fallen asleep on my bed after I begged him to stay. I blanched in horror at the drool stain I had left on the arm of his white t-shirt.
I began to slowly move myself and retreat downstairs as the memories of the night before came flooding back. How I had broken, screaming in terror, and how Eli had saved me, not knowing the true reason he found me curled up on the floor crying.
As I stepped off the bed, my leg got snagged in the frilly bed cover, and I went crashing to the ground, making quite the noise as I landed. With a yawn, Eli's eyes opened, and I felt myself blushing as he turned to look at me.
We both kind of stared at each other for a moment, not speaking. Eli opened his mouth, then closed it again as if unsure of what to say.
"Coffee?" I asked quickly, filling the awkwardness of our situation.
"Please," Eli said, smiling.
In minutes, I had a pot brewing as I leaned against the kitchen counter. Eli was picking up the scattered photographs from the floor and looking at them quizzically.
"Why do you have pictures of the Harmons?" Eli asked, showing me the photos of the yellow-haired man and his family.
"Is that their names? I found them out in the barn under a blanket," I answered as I rooted around the cupboards for two mugs.
"In the barn? I cleaned it out just last week. No way I would have missed this trunk," Eli said while examining the wooden trunk with its simple rustic hinges. It was plain and unadorned with any embellishments. Basic as basic could be.
"Well, you must have missed it because it was there," I said, putting emphasis on the "was" in a way that reminded me of my mother chastising my father.
"That's so weird," he said, shifting through the photos while sitting at the table. I brought him a cup of coffee and sugar, and he began absentmindedly adding a lot of sugar to his coffee. About six scoops later, he began stirring and sipping it.
"Well, anyways, thanks for coming last night. I wasn't myself, I hope you know that I'm not some damsel in distress," I said quickly, like word vomit, and I even chuckled at the end, feeling like a total weirdo.
"What happened anyway? You didn't say last night," he said, putting the photos down in a jumble on the table.
I paused for a moment, considering how to answer. As I sipped my coffee, I stared out into the yard beside the barn where the scarecrow stood, glancing around the edge of the barn, hanging limply in his hole. His appearance once again sad and dejected instead of murderous and terrifying.
"I was just scared, I had a nightmare, and it just scared me," I said dumbly, trying not to turn crimson again under his intense gaze.
His eyes seemed to cut right through my lie, as if he were staring directly into my being before he simply glanced away out the window. We fell silent again, and I filled some moments by sipping my drink. It seemed to revitalize me; the sun and the company made me feel secure.
"Why were you here anyways?" I asked after a moment.
"I heard screaming, so I came running. I live just on the other side of the grass there, behind the barn," Eli said, pointing to the barn out the window.
"Must be really close, I didn't see any houses on the way in," I said, prying deeper into the situation.
"It's actually a trailer, maybe like two hundred yards from here. I was outside getting some air when I heard you scream. So, I came running," Eli said, finishing his cup of coffee and placing it in between us like a barrier, as if he was hiding something.
"Could you, uh, not do that?" Eli asked, with an uncertain grin on his face.
"What am I doing exactly?" I asked, startled for a moment, my stomach doing a sort of flip.
"It's just that you like stare at people. You've been staring at me for like my whole cup of coffee, I don't think you blinked the whole time," Eli said, averting his eyes shyly.
"No, I don't," I said until I realized he was right. I never noticed that about myself.
"Right, well, I've got to go. I am probably going to start painting today, so you might see me in a bit," Eli said, rising and heading to the door.
"Wait," I said, grabbing his arm for only a moment before releasing it like it was scalding hot.
Eli glanced at my hand for a moment, then at his arm, before he, too, blushed crimson.
"I just wanted to say thank you again. For last night, I mean. Well, what I mean is I appreciate it," I said, my eyes downcast in, for some reason, shame. Like he had seen me at my weakest and it weighed on my gaze appropriately.
"It was nothing, besides I didn't get much sleep with your constant snoring," Eli said, laughing at me.
"I so don't snore," I said, swatting at him but unable to control a smile creeping up onto my face.
After Eli left, I felt instantly colder, my eyes kept returning to the scarecrow. I grabbed my camera from upstairs and went out to the yard. I scanned the dirt for anything out of the ordinary. There was no blood, or anything on the dirt where the scarecrow stood just last night. I slowly made my way to the scarecrow, but nothing happened. I snapped a photo of the inanimate object, and it didn't even flinch. I poked it, but all I felt was straw underneath its clothes. I removed its mask, expecting a severed head, but it was just straw. Nothing was here but straw. I dropped the mask on the ground and took another photo proving it was just straw and nothing else.
An idea struck me as I regarded the source of my torment. If I planned to stay even one more night here, I needed to do something about this scarecrow. I rooted around in the barn, a series of tools hung from nails in the wall. On one hung what I was searching for. An old rusted shovel with a dirty wooden handle that was worn smooth from use.
I returned to the side of the barn beside the scarecrow, knowing for whatever reason this thing only came when night fell and didn't react at all when I moved or touched it during the day.
Before my morning coffee had even settled, I began to dig at the dusty earth, loose and easy to dig, it came away in shovelfuls. Within an hour, I had a fair-sized hole in front of me. Sweat dripped from my brow, and when I wiped under my eyes, they came away black from last night's makeup. Glancing at the field of grass and knowing Eli could appear at any time, I decided to head inside and shower. The hot water was a godsend, and I lingered for longer, letting the water drain down my head and back, my eyes closed, trying to forget the images from the last two nights. I should just pack up my car and leave right this minute. But how could I explain this to my family? I decided to go through with my plan and bury the scarecrow. I could last one more night if I prepared for it.
I left the shower and dressed modestly, in another one of my old rock t-shirts and a pair of shorts. I returned to the yard and with a satisfying push, I dropped the scarecrow into the pit. It fell with a nice thud, and I smiled at my power over it in the day; it's just at night when I should fear it.
As I threw the first shovel of dirt back on top, I heard a noise in the grass, and it parted, revealing Eli wearing the same pair of jeans and work boots, but he had changed his shirt to a plain black one. In each hand, he held cans of paint and a brush.
"Should I even ask why you are burying that old scarecrow?" He asked as he came to stand beside me.
"Probably best if you didn't," I admitted, leaning on the shovel.
"Well, I'm going to anyway. Polly, why are you burying that old scarecrow?" He asked, a rare smile coming to his face.
"Because it's been haunting me at night," I said bluntly.
"Mhm, yeah, okay. Fine, don't tell me. I've been meaning to get rid of it anyway, but normal people take things to the landfill," Eli said with a smirk as he turned to the house and began setting up for his painting.
I finished burying the scarecrow and stomped the dirt down flat. I finished my job by moving my car and parking it directly over top of the spot where I buried it.
Eli watched me curiously but didn't remark. I returned the shovel to the barn and went out into the yard. I decided to go for a hike around the property. I needed some time alone to think and unwind.
As I made my way through the grass, it began to confuse me. This had obviously been a large farmland, but how had the wild plants grown in such a thick, endless maze of greenery?
It gave me an eerie feeling, like I was being watched as the grass covered three-quarters of my body, like there would be something lurking out in the grass, crouched low, waiting for me.
After a half-hour or so, I came upon a clear lake, only big enough to be considered an old swimming hole, I thought as I dipped my hand into the cool water.
I took off my outer clothes and decided to go for a swim. I lowered myself in slowly and reveled at the cool water. The pond wasn't deep, but the water was clean. A small rope swing had been hung from a large oak tree that bordered the pond. It also provided a nice layer of shade that made it the ideal spot to spend the day. I floated on my back in the water for what seemed like hours. The day seemed to slip away from me. A small beach of sand sat at one side of the pond, so I lay out in the sun and closed my eyes. The warm day warmed my soul, and soon I felt myself drifting off into sleep.
I awoke to the sound of crickets and darkness. I couldn't believe it. I had slept through the day; the long nights had finally caught up to me, and now I was stuck far away from the farmhouse. I didn't know if my plan with the scarecrow had worked, and this wasn't the place to test my theory.
A full moon lay overhead, casting a silvery glow on the world before me. A sea of grass swayed gently in the wind, sending shivers down it in shuddering waves. I looked around, but I was thankfully alone, just the crickets chirping along melodically as my only companions.
I had to make it back to the house, so I started on my way, my hands trailing along the tall grass. The pale light played easily on the deep green grass. Step by step, I made my way back towards the farmhouse and the barn, throwing caution to the wind, and I started to jog along, anything to get back faster. I would have to find Eli; maybe if we were together, he could stop it like before.
If I thought the field was creepy during the day, by night, it was a whole new world. Every sound made my heart stop for a beat before restarting in protest. When all of a sudden, the crickets stopped chirping. I dropped to my knees, letting the long grass cover me from sight. Through the strands, I could make out a shape moving slowly through the tall grass, the swish of the plants as it made its passage through them. My heart dropped. Was this Eli looking for me, or was it the scarecrow come for me?
That's when I heard a voice, a voice cutting through the silence. It started off quiet and raspy as it sang an eerie children's song.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek
The world it claims that I be not clean
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
I was frozen to the spot. It hadn't found me, but it knew I was in the grass somewhere. Now, with each word, chewed up and spat out like it was unhappy with it, now it was accompanied by the whistle of something in the air and a slicing sound as it cut through the grass around me.
It finished another round of its song, but now it stood within feet of me, its blade whistling as it cut. I took a moment to ready myself, and as it raised its blade to cut through the grass I hid in, I dashed out of my hiding spot and slammed into it. But nothing resisted me; I fell through it like it was a ghost.
In a tangle of limbs, I landed hard on the ground and tried quickly rolling to my feet. The blade of its weapon pierced the earth beside me. Now I could see it was a two-handed scythe the scarecrow carried, but something was off, its hands were human. Pale milky skin like a newborn baby. I had little time to examine the creature except for the canvas bag over its head. Two large black eyes came out of the slits that leaked a dark red blood like tears.
It screeched loudly and swung its scythe, but it was slow, and I took off through the grass in the direction of what I hoped was the farmhouse.
I completely gave up all pretense of hiding and sprinted as fast as I could without looking back. The grass seemed to part for me as I ran in terror. I was just glad that in high school, I had taken track as it was paying off now.
I could hear the noise of footsteps behind me, but I never turned. I ran and ran until my lungs felt like they were going to burst Something silver flashed to my left, and I tripped over something hard and unexpected. The wind was driven from my lungs as my chin slammed hard into the earth. I scrambled back, trying to escape, but the scarecrow was on me, its blade flashing angrily in the pale moonlight.
I wanted to move, I wanted to fight, but my body was weak and unable to catch its breath, and I lay there helpless as it swung its scythe towards me. I closed my eyes in fear, but I only heard the thud of dirt before I opened my eyes. The scythe was discarded, and the scarecrow stood staring at me.
It seemed to be struggling with something, one hand reached out towards me only to be snapped back to its side. A roar of rage pierced the canvas sack over its head as it struggled against its invisible bonds. For a moment, I thought I saw something behind it, three sets of hands holding it back. One feminine in nature, and the other two must have belonged to children. In a flash, I saw a beautiful woman who looked vaguely familiar with her long brown hair and plain dress.
"Run," she moaned as the scarecrow swung around wildly.
I didn't hesitate and fled, my breath had returned, and while my body still ached from my fall, I powered on, knowing this was the only respite I would receive tonight.
In the distance, I could see a small sheet metal shape; Eli's trailer was slowly coming closer as I ran, and I beelined it for the trailer. I could hear the footsteps behind me again as the scarecrow resumed its chase after me.
I reached the old trailer and banged on the door as loud as I could; I rattled the handle, but it was locked.
"Eli, it's me. It's Polly, please let me in. Please," I begged as I banged over and over again on the door of his trailer.
Nothing responded to me, and the trailer was dark. The single window in the back held no life inside the trailer. From the trailer, I couldn't tell which direction the farmhouse was in the dark, so I fled into the tall grass and crouched low, watching the clearing around the trailer.
While I caught my breath, I watched the scarecrow enter the clearing, its scythe back in its hand as it circled the trailer. When its raspy voice began singing again low and quiet, only loud enough for me to hear.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek
The world it claims that I be not clean
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night, I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
The song made me shiver uncontrollably at the lyrics and the voice; it sounded demented like a crazy person letting their demons out into a nursery rhyme.
I lay perfectly still; for some reason, it couldn't find me. This creature I assumed was all-knowing seemed to have some very human weaknesses. It moved and talked like a human, even had certain body parts that were from a human; it even felt human the way it chased and reacted.
The scarecrow moved on through the tall grass, and I let out a sigh of relief as it lost my trail. How terrifying that beast was. In my pocket was the keys to my car. Eli had told me that the farmhouse was fairly close to his trailer. I had to navigate to the car, then drive as fast as I can away from this place. The fact that I hadn't left already because I was worried about money was insane. Who cares, I could drive to Barb's and demand my money back. Go home and just tell my parents the truth. The whole reason for actually leaving home this summer, why I was actually here in this field shivering uncontrollably in fear. But I couldn't think about that now, not now, there will be time to deal with that later. Now I needed to focus on staying alive, getting to the car, and getting out of here.
I went in the direction the scarecrow had; he knew the land better than I did, and every noise I made in the silence of the night made my heart drop. It took all my courage there and then to take one step forward, then another. I felt like I was going to be sick; my stomach was in knots to where it felt like even if I was sick, the only thing to come out would be only bile and stomach acid.
With each careful step, I made my way closer to the farmhouse and the scarecrow. Through the darkness, I could see my goal, the farmhouse, and the barn. Within minutes, I had made it securely to the farmhouse yard.
My car still sat in the same spot overtop of the hole where I buried the scarecrow. In the moonlight, I could see that the dirt had not been disturbed.
The scarecrow was nowhere to be seen, and I cautiously made my way to my car, my keys in my hand as I approached the driver's door. I hadn't locked the car, and it opened on the first try. I turned on my car as quietly as I could, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
Something landed heavily on top of the roof of my car, making it dent inwards slightly. With horror, I saw the scarecrow swing its scythe into the back window of my car. With a crash, the glass shattered inwards; I put my car into gear and roared away down the lane. In my rearview mirror, I couldn't see anything, so I swerved back and forth, trying to shake the creature from the roof of my car when the scythe crashed in through the front window, making a hole just large enough for it.
The glass spidered, and I couldn't see out the window very well. I swerved down the road, but the scythe remained in the car, allowing the creature purchase. In a panic, I spun my wheel wildly, trying to dislodge it, but I lost control, and soon felt something crash into the front of my car. The airbag went off in my face, and I hadn't been wearing my seatbelt. I slammed hard into something else, and my vision went dark. I was in a daze; I must have passed out because I don't remember a lot of what happened next. I felt the car door open with a crunching tear, and it landed loudly as it was torn off. My body being grabbed and tossed on the ground. I felt no pain, just a gentle numbness. I felt blood on my head as I raised my arm to touch my face.
Then just blackness, complete, and empty just feelings, fear, unease, sadness. My eyes opened, and the scarecrow was overtop of me. Pain on my chest and my vision went dark again. Coughing as something poured down my throat. I couldn't breathe, why couldn't I breathe?
My eyes opened one last time, and I saw the scarecrow pouring a dark liquid from its mouth directly into my mouth and eyes. My vision was red and bloody before I closed them one last time.
The words of its song echoed into the emptiness of my thoughts.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek?
The world it claims that I be not clean.
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see,
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night, I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
The darkness enveloped me, and I felt myself slipping away, the sounds of the night fading into oblivion.
Day 4
When I awoke, it was morning, and I found myself lying in a hospital bed. My head throbbed with pain, and my body ached all over. The memories of the terrifying night flooded back to me, and I shuddered involuntarily.
A nurse entered the room, her kind eyes filled with concern. "You're awake," she said softly, her voice gentle like a soothing balm. "You're lucky to be alive. You were found unconscious by the side of the road next to your car. Do you remember what happened?"
I tried to speak, but my throat felt raw and dry. I croaked out a few words, barely audible. "The scarecrow... it attacked me..."
The nurse frowned, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Scarecrow? What scarecrow?"
My heart raced with panic as I realized the truth. Had it all been a nightmare? But the pain in my body felt too real, the memories too vivid to be mere hallucinations.
I tried to explain, to tell her about the terrifying creature that had pursued me through the night, but she only looked at me with concern, as if I were delusional.
"I'll get the doctor, and there is a young man who brought you in. He has been here all morning," the nurse said with a sly wink.
After a few minutes, she came back with Eli and a doctor, both of whom smiled gently at me through the window. The doctor came in first and went over my health with me. I had a concussion and bruises all over my body. A generous-sized cut from some glass on my scalp had been stitched and bandaged. My mind flashed back to the night before. How the scarecrow had filled me with its gooey red blood.
"Did you find anything else?" I asked cautiously, trying to avoid another scandal like with the nurse.
"No, as long as you have someone to pick you up and take you home, you are free to go. That nice young man out there said he would take you back home," the doctor said, pointing to Eli as he rose with a slight grunt.
I glanced at Eli, and he waved uncertainly at me. The doctor went out and began talking to Eli for a few minutes.
While I waited, my mind began to have strange thoughts. Something was wrong; I felt weird. My vision turned red, and I began to see images before my eyes.
The Harmons. They flashed before my eyes in real-time—the husband hugging his wife, then swinging his kids around, chopping wood outback next to the barn while his wife cooked in the kitchen.
As Eli entered the room, the visions stopped suddenly. Like my saving angel for the third time now, I was extremely grateful to Eli.
"Heyyyyy," Eli said, elongating the word in a sort of familiar yet awkward way.
"Hi," I said, closing my eyes and letting my embarrassment pass in only a few seconds.
"Why is it that fifty percent of the times we meet, you're in serious trouble?" Eli asked, coming to sit on the edge of my bed.
"Oh, you know me, bad luck, I guess," I said simply, becoming aware that under my blankets, I was in a backless hospital gown, and he was inches away from me.
I pulled the blanket up to my chin as a sort of cover for my appearance, but Eli didn't seem to notice. He continued talking to me. It was actually really sweet the way he seemed to care for me.
"Anyways, the doctor said I could take you back to the farmhouse to rest," Eli said.
"No," I said suddenly, becoming serious.
"What? Why not?" Eli asked.
"I just, I just can't right now. I'll tell you later. Just, we can't spend the night anywhere near the farm," I said, grabbing him by the arm, hoping to sway him.
"Well, I mean, if you want, we can grab your stuff, and my house can literally go anywhere," Eli said in an offhand manner, as if he had expected this.
"Promise?" I asked, trying not to seem too afraid.
Within the hour, we had returned to the farmhouse. The hole I dug was still covered over, and I stared at it as we parked in Eli's black pickup truck.
I ran inside and quickly got changed into my only clean clothes, grabbing everything I had from the farmhouse. I paused at the dinner table, looking down at the photographs of the Harmons and thinking back to that weird moment in the hospital with that odd vision.
The day was getting longer, and I hurried back to Eli, waiting in the pickup truck. I threw my bag in the back and climbed in beside him. He smiled and backtracked down the lane. We turned to the left and went down a side road where we came upon my poor old car. It had crashed directly into a tree, and the whole front part of the car had been destroyed. Fluid leaked all over the road, and I almost shed a tear for my departed friend. We had traveled far together. I grabbed a few things from the car, but something was off about the car. The front door had been knocked off and was discarded on the far side of the road. It looked impossible; the door hadn't even hit the tree.
Eli hooked his truck up to his trailer, and we sped off, leaving the property behind us. We headed into town and found a pullout on the side of the road with a set of bathrooms to camp at for the night. Eli's trailer was messy but cozy. He had laundry strewn over most surfaces, but it didn't smell bad.
The room consisted of a small kitchen with a bed in one corner. There were also a lot of posters and artwork on the walls. I examined one of a pretty girl with long raven-black hair. It was a realist painting, obviously taken from real life.
"Who is this?" I asked as Eli made us some food.
"That is just a friend," Eli said, glancing at the painting he had done.
"Well, she is a pretty friend," I said, enjoying watching the back of his ears turn bright red.
"Dinner's ready," he said, pouring the mixture of food he had made onto a pair of plates.
Eli served me and handed me a can of Coke to drink. I thanked him and sat on his bed. It was the only serviceable piece of furniture in the whole trailer. We both sat in silence for a moment while we ate. I could tell something was bothering Eli as he kept making glances toward me.
"What? What is it, Eli? Just say it," I said between bites.
"Tell me what happened, Polly. Tell me why you were burying the scarecrow, why you were passed out in the road with straw in your hair. Tell me why you were muttering about the Harmons and a scarecrow when I found you," Eli said suddenly, as if he were unloading a machine gun.
I looked Eli square in the face and relented. I told him about the last couple of nights at the farmhouse, about how the scarecrow had been tormenting me every night. About how he had saved me and how last night I had fled through the fields to his trailer and then to my car. I told him about the vision I had about the Harmons in the hospital. By the end of it, I was in tears. I felt so foolish and childish.
Eli took it in stride. He asked a few questions during my retelling, but by the end of it, he was silent. Tears fell down my face and landed in my lap. We had both put our plates on the counter, and Eli hugged me. He put his arms around me, and I nuzzled into his shoulder, feeling comforted again in him at the lowest points of my life.
With a gentle hand, he wiped away my tears, and I smiled, letting a nervous laugh escape my lips. I looked up into his face and felt his stare before I saw it. His pale blue eyes shone with comfort, and then his lips were on mine as he kissed me quickly before pulling away slightly.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. That was insensitive of me. You're sad, and I took advantage of that," Eli said, moving back slightly.
"Shut up," I said, and grabbed his shirt, bringing him back in.
submitted by TheLastRiter to nosleep [link] [comments]
Day 3
I woke the next morning from the sunshine in my eyes. My head was resting ever so slightly on Eli's arm as we had both fallen asleep on my bed after I begged him to stay. I blanched in horror at the drool stain I had left on the arm of his white t-shirt.
I began to slowly move myself and retreat downstairs as the memories of the night before came flooding back. How I had broken, screaming in terror, and how Eli had saved me, not knowing the true reason he found me curled up on the floor crying.
As I stepped off the bed, my leg got snagged in the frilly bed cover, and I went crashing to the ground, making quite the noise as I landed. With a yawn, Eli's eyes opened, and I felt myself blushing as he turned to look at me.
We both kind of stared at each other for a moment, not speaking. Eli opened his mouth, then closed it again as if unsure of what to say.
"Coffee?" I asked quickly, filling the awkwardness of our situation.
"Please," Eli said, smiling.
In minutes, I had a pot brewing as I leaned against the kitchen counter. Eli was picking up the scattered photographs from the floor and looking at them quizzically.
"Why do you have pictures of the Harmons?" Eli asked, showing me the photos of the yellow-haired man and his family.
"Is that their names? I found them out in the barn under a blanket," I answered as I rooted around the cupboards for two mugs.
"In the barn? I cleaned it out just last week. No way I would have missed this trunk," Eli said while examining the wooden trunk with its simple rustic hinges. It was plain and unadorned with any embellishments. Basic as basic could be.
"Well, you must have missed it because it was there," I said, putting emphasis on the "was" in a way that reminded me of my mother chastising my father.
"That's so weird," he said, shifting through the photos while sitting at the table. I brought him a cup of coffee and sugar, and he began absentmindedly adding a lot of sugar to his coffee. About six scoops later, he began stirring and sipping it.
"Well, anyways, thanks for coming last night. I wasn't myself, I hope you know that I'm not some damsel in distress," I said quickly, like word vomit, and I even chuckled at the end, feeling like a total weirdo.
"What happened anyway? You didn't say last night," he said, putting the photos down in a jumble on the table.
I paused for a moment, considering how to answer. As I sipped my coffee, I stared out into the yard beside the barn where the scarecrow stood, glancing around the edge of the barn, hanging limply in his hole. His appearance once again sad and dejected instead of murderous and terrifying.
"I was just scared, I had a nightmare, and it just scared me," I said dumbly, trying not to turn crimson again under his intense gaze.
His eyes seemed to cut right through my lie, as if he were staring directly into my being before he simply glanced away out the window. We fell silent again, and I filled some moments by sipping my drink. It seemed to revitalize me; the sun and the company made me feel secure.
"Why were you here anyways?" I asked after a moment.
"I heard screaming, so I came running. I live just on the other side of the grass there, behind the barn," Eli said, pointing to the barn out the window.
"Must be really close, I didn't see any houses on the way in," I said, prying deeper into the situation.
"It's actually a trailer, maybe like two hundred yards from here. I was outside getting some air when I heard you scream. So, I came running," Eli said, finishing his cup of coffee and placing it in between us like a barrier, as if he was hiding something.
"Could you, uh, not do that?" Eli asked, with an uncertain grin on his face.
"What am I doing exactly?" I asked, startled for a moment, my stomach doing a sort of flip.
"It's just that you like stare at people. You've been staring at me for like my whole cup of coffee, I don't think you blinked the whole time," Eli said, averting his eyes shyly.
"No, I don't," I said until I realized he was right. I never noticed that about myself.
"Right, well, I've got to go. I am probably going to start painting today, so you might see me in a bit," Eli said, rising and heading to the door.
"Wait," I said, grabbing his arm for only a moment before releasing it like it was scalding hot.
Eli glanced at my hand for a moment, then at his arm, before he, too, blushed crimson.
"I just wanted to say thank you again. For last night, I mean. Well, what I mean is I appreciate it," I said, my eyes downcast in, for some reason, shame. Like he had seen me at my weakest and it weighed on my gaze appropriately.
"It was nothing, besides I didn't get much sleep with your constant snoring," Eli said, laughing at me.
"I so don't snore," I said, swatting at him but unable to control a smile creeping up onto my face.
After Eli left, I felt instantly colder, my eyes kept returning to the scarecrow. I grabbed my camera from upstairs and went out to the yard. I scanned the dirt for anything out of the ordinary. There was no blood, or anything on the dirt where the scarecrow stood just last night. I slowly made my way to the scarecrow, but nothing happened. I snapped a photo of the inanimate object, and it didn't even flinch. I poked it, but all I felt was straw underneath its clothes. I removed its mask, expecting a severed head, but it was just straw. Nothing was here but straw. I dropped the mask on the ground and took another photo proving it was just straw and nothing else.
An idea struck me as I regarded the source of my torment. If I planned to stay even one more night here, I needed to do something about this scarecrow. I rooted around in the barn, a series of tools hung from nails in the wall. On one hung what I was searching for. An old rusted shovel with a dirty wooden handle that was worn smooth from use.
I returned to the side of the barn beside the scarecrow, knowing for whatever reason this thing only came when night fell and didn't react at all when I moved or touched it during the day.
Before my morning coffee had even settled, I began to dig at the dusty earth, loose and easy to dig, it came away in shovelfuls. Within an hour, I had a fair-sized hole in front of me. Sweat dripped from my brow, and when I wiped under my eyes, they came away black from last night's makeup. Glancing at the field of grass and knowing Eli could appear at any time, I decided to head inside and shower. The hot water was a godsend, and I lingered for longer, letting the water drain down my head and back, my eyes closed, trying to forget the images from the last two nights. I should just pack up my car and leave right this minute. But how could I explain this to my family? I decided to go through with my plan and bury the scarecrow. I could last one more night if I prepared for it.
I left the shower and dressed modestly, in another one of my old rock t-shirts and a pair of shorts. I returned to the yard and with a satisfying push, I dropped the scarecrow into the pit. It fell with a nice thud, and I smiled at my power over it in the day; it's just at night when I should fear it.
As I threw the first shovel of dirt back on top, I heard a noise in the grass, and it parted, revealing Eli wearing the same pair of jeans and work boots, but he had changed his shirt to a plain black one. In each hand, he held cans of paint and a brush.
"Should I even ask why you are burying that old scarecrow?" He asked as he came to stand beside me.
"Probably best if you didn't," I admitted, leaning on the shovel.
"Well, I'm going to anyway. Polly, why are you burying that old scarecrow?" He asked, a rare smile coming to his face.
"Because it's been haunting me at night," I said bluntly.
"Mhm, yeah, okay. Fine, don't tell me. I've been meaning to get rid of it anyway, but normal people take things to the landfill," Eli said with a smirk as he turned to the house and began setting up for his painting.
I finished burying the scarecrow and stomped the dirt down flat. I finished my job by moving my car and parking it directly over top of the spot where I buried it.
Eli watched me curiously but didn't remark. I returned the shovel to the barn and went out into the yard. I decided to go for a hike around the property. I needed some time alone to think and unwind.
As I made my way through the grass, it began to confuse me. This had obviously been a large farmland, but how had the wild plants grown in such a thick, endless maze of greenery?
It gave me an eerie feeling, like I was being watched as the grass covered three-quarters of my body, like there would be something lurking out in the grass, crouched low, waiting for me.
After a half-hour or so, I came upon a clear lake, only big enough to be considered an old swimming hole, I thought as I dipped my hand into the cool water.
I took off my outer clothes and decided to go for a swim. I lowered myself in slowly and reveled at the cool water. The pond wasn't deep, but the water was clean. A small rope swing had been hung from a large oak tree that bordered the pond. It also provided a nice layer of shade that made it the ideal spot to spend the day. I floated on my back in the water for what seemed like hours. The day seemed to slip away from me. A small beach of sand sat at one side of the pond, so I lay out in the sun and closed my eyes. The warm day warmed my soul, and soon I felt myself drifting off into sleep.
I awoke to the sound of crickets and darkness. I couldn't believe it. I had slept through the day; the long nights had finally caught up to me, and now I was stuck far away from the farmhouse. I didn't know if my plan with the scarecrow had worked, and this wasn't the place to test my theory.
A full moon lay overhead, casting a silvery glow on the world before me. A sea of grass swayed gently in the wind, sending shivers down it in shuddering waves. I looked around, but I was thankfully alone, just the crickets chirping along melodically as my only companions.
I had to make it back to the house, so I started on my way, my hands trailing along the tall grass. The pale light played easily on the deep green grass. Step by step, I made my way back towards the farmhouse and the barn, throwing caution to the wind, and I started to jog along, anything to get back faster. I would have to find Eli; maybe if we were together, he could stop it like before.
If I thought the field was creepy during the day, by night, it was a whole new world. Every sound made my heart stop for a beat before restarting in protest. When all of a sudden, the crickets stopped chirping. I dropped to my knees, letting the long grass cover me from sight. Through the strands, I could make out a shape moving slowly through the tall grass, the swish of the plants as it made its passage through them. My heart dropped. Was this Eli looking for me, or was it the scarecrow come for me?
That's when I heard a voice, a voice cutting through the silence. It started off quiet and raspy as it sang an eerie children's song.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek
The world it claims that I be not clean
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
I was frozen to the spot. It hadn't found me, but it knew I was in the grass somewhere. Now, with each word, chewed up and spat out like it was unhappy with it, now it was accompanied by the whistle of something in the air and a slicing sound as it cut through the grass around me.
It finished another round of its song, but now it stood within feet of me, its blade whistling as it cut. I took a moment to ready myself, and as it raised its blade to cut through the grass I hid in, I dashed out of my hiding spot and slammed into it. But nothing resisted me; I fell through it like it was a ghost.
In a tangle of limbs, I landed hard on the ground and tried quickly rolling to my feet. The blade of its weapon pierced the earth beside me. Now I could see it was a two-handed scythe the scarecrow carried, but something was off, its hands were human. Pale milky skin like a newborn baby. I had little time to examine the creature except for the canvas bag over its head. Two large black eyes came out of the slits that leaked a dark red blood like tears.
It screeched loudly and swung its scythe, but it was slow, and I took off through the grass in the direction of what I hoped was the farmhouse.
I completely gave up all pretense of hiding and sprinted as fast as I could without looking back. The grass seemed to part for me as I ran in terror. I was just glad that in high school, I had taken track as it was paying off now.
I could hear the noise of footsteps behind me, but I never turned. I ran and ran until my lungs felt like they were going to burst Something silver flashed to my left, and I tripped over something hard and unexpected. The wind was driven from my lungs as my chin slammed hard into the earth. I scrambled back, trying to escape, but the scarecrow was on me, its blade flashing angrily in the pale moonlight.
I wanted to move, I wanted to fight, but my body was weak and unable to catch its breath, and I lay there helpless as it swung its scythe towards me. I closed my eyes in fear, but I only heard the thud of dirt before I opened my eyes. The scythe was discarded, and the scarecrow stood staring at me.
It seemed to be struggling with something, one hand reached out towards me only to be snapped back to its side. A roar of rage pierced the canvas sack over its head as it struggled against its invisible bonds. For a moment, I thought I saw something behind it, three sets of hands holding it back. One feminine in nature, and the other two must have belonged to children. In a flash, I saw a beautiful woman who looked vaguely familiar with her long brown hair and plain dress.
"Run," she moaned as the scarecrow swung around wildly.
I didn't hesitate and fled, my breath had returned, and while my body still ached from my fall, I powered on, knowing this was the only respite I would receive tonight.
In the distance, I could see a small sheet metal shape; Eli's trailer was slowly coming closer as I ran, and I beelined it for the trailer. I could hear the footsteps behind me again as the scarecrow resumed its chase after me.
I reached the old trailer and banged on the door as loud as I could; I rattled the handle, but it was locked.
"Eli, it's me. It's Polly, please let me in. Please," I begged as I banged over and over again on the door of his trailer.
Nothing responded to me, and the trailer was dark. The single window in the back held no life inside the trailer. From the trailer, I couldn't tell which direction the farmhouse was in the dark, so I fled into the tall grass and crouched low, watching the clearing around the trailer.
While I caught my breath, I watched the scarecrow enter the clearing, its scythe back in its hand as it circled the trailer. When its raspy voice began singing again low and quiet, only loud enough for me to hear.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek
The world it claims that I be not clean
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night, I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
The song made me shiver uncontrollably at the lyrics and the voice; it sounded demented like a crazy person letting their demons out into a nursery rhyme.
I lay perfectly still; for some reason, it couldn't find me. This creature I assumed was all-knowing seemed to have some very human weaknesses. It moved and talked like a human, even had certain body parts that were from a human; it even felt human the way it chased and reacted.
The scarecrow moved on through the tall grass, and I let out a sigh of relief as it lost my trail. How terrifying that beast was. In my pocket was the keys to my car. Eli had told me that the farmhouse was fairly close to his trailer. I had to navigate to the car, then drive as fast as I can away from this place. The fact that I hadn't left already because I was worried about money was insane. Who cares, I could drive to Barb's and demand my money back. Go home and just tell my parents the truth. The whole reason for actually leaving home this summer, why I was actually here in this field shivering uncontrollably in fear. But I couldn't think about that now, not now, there will be time to deal with that later. Now I needed to focus on staying alive, getting to the car, and getting out of here.
I went in the direction the scarecrow had; he knew the land better than I did, and every noise I made in the silence of the night made my heart drop. It took all my courage there and then to take one step forward, then another. I felt like I was going to be sick; my stomach was in knots to where it felt like even if I was sick, the only thing to come out would be only bile and stomach acid.
With each careful step, I made my way closer to the farmhouse and the scarecrow. Through the darkness, I could see my goal, the farmhouse, and the barn. Within minutes, I had made it securely to the farmhouse yard.
My car still sat in the same spot overtop of the hole where I buried the scarecrow. In the moonlight, I could see that the dirt had not been disturbed.
The scarecrow was nowhere to be seen, and I cautiously made my way to my car, my keys in my hand as I approached the driver's door. I hadn't locked the car, and it opened on the first try. I turned on my car as quietly as I could, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
Something landed heavily on top of the roof of my car, making it dent inwards slightly. With horror, I saw the scarecrow swing its scythe into the back window of my car. With a crash, the glass shattered inwards; I put my car into gear and roared away down the lane. In my rearview mirror, I couldn't see anything, so I swerved back and forth, trying to shake the creature from the roof of my car when the scythe crashed in through the front window, making a hole just large enough for it.
The glass spidered, and I couldn't see out the window very well. I swerved down the road, but the scythe remained in the car, allowing the creature purchase. In a panic, I spun my wheel wildly, trying to dislodge it, but I lost control, and soon felt something crash into the front of my car. The airbag went off in my face, and I hadn't been wearing my seatbelt. I slammed hard into something else, and my vision went dark. I was in a daze; I must have passed out because I don't remember a lot of what happened next. I felt the car door open with a crunching tear, and it landed loudly as it was torn off. My body being grabbed and tossed on the ground. I felt no pain, just a gentle numbness. I felt blood on my head as I raised my arm to touch my face.
Then just blackness, complete, and empty just feelings, fear, unease, sadness. My eyes opened, and the scarecrow was overtop of me. Pain on my chest and my vision went dark again. Coughing as something poured down my throat. I couldn't breathe, why couldn't I breathe?
My eyes opened one last time, and I saw the scarecrow pouring a dark liquid from its mouth directly into my mouth and eyes. My vision was red and bloody before I closed them one last time.
The words of its song echoed into the emptiness of my thoughts.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek?
The world it claims that I be not clean.
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see,
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night, I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
The darkness enveloped me, and I felt myself slipping away, the sounds of the night fading into oblivion.
Day 4
When I awoke, it was morning, and I found myself lying in a hospital bed. My head throbbed with pain, and my body ached all over. The memories of the terrifying night flooded back to me, and I shuddered involuntarily.
A nurse entered the room, her kind eyes filled with concern. "You're awake," she said softly, her voice gentle like a soothing balm. "You're lucky to be alive. You were found unconscious by the side of the road next to your car. Do you remember what happened?"
I tried to speak, but my throat felt raw and dry. I croaked out a few words, barely audible. "The scarecrow... it attacked me..."
The nurse frowned, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Scarecrow? What scarecrow?"
My heart raced with panic as I realized the truth. Had it all been a nightmare? But the pain in my body felt too real, the memories too vivid to be mere hallucinations.
I tried to explain, to tell her about the terrifying creature that had pursued me through the night, but she only looked at me with concern, as if I were delusional.
"I'll get the doctor, and there is a young man who brought you in. He has been here all morning," the nurse said with a sly wink.
After a few minutes, she came back with Eli and a doctor, both of whom smiled gently at me through the window. The doctor came in first and went over my health with me. I had a concussion and bruises all over my body. A generous-sized cut from some glass on my scalp had been stitched and bandaged. My mind flashed back to the night before. How the scarecrow had filled me with its gooey red blood.
"Did you find anything else?" I asked cautiously, trying to avoid another scandal like with the nurse.
"No, as long as you have someone to pick you up and take you home, you are free to go. That nice young man out there said he would take you back home," the doctor said, pointing to Eli as he rose with a slight grunt.
I glanced at Eli, and he waved uncertainly at me. The doctor went out and began talking to Eli for a few minutes.
While I waited, my mind began to have strange thoughts. Something was wrong; I felt weird. My vision turned red, and I began to see images before my eyes.
The Harmons. They flashed before my eyes in real-time—the husband hugging his wife, then swinging his kids around, chopping wood outback next to the barn while his wife cooked in the kitchen.
As Eli entered the room, the visions stopped suddenly. Like my saving angel for the third time now, I was extremely grateful to Eli.
"Heyyyyy," Eli said, elongating the word in a sort of familiar yet awkward way.
"Hi," I said, closing my eyes and letting my embarrassment pass in only a few seconds.
"Why is it that fifty percent of the times we meet, you're in serious trouble?" Eli asked, coming to sit on the edge of my bed.
"Oh, you know me, bad luck, I guess," I said simply, becoming aware that under my blankets, I was in a backless hospital gown, and he was inches away from me.
I pulled the blanket up to my chin as a sort of cover for my appearance, but Eli didn't seem to notice. He continued talking to me. It was actually really sweet the way he seemed to care for me.
"Anyways, the doctor said I could take you back to the farmhouse to rest," Eli said.
"No," I said suddenly, becoming serious.
"What? Why not?" Eli asked.
"I just, I just can't right now. I'll tell you later. Just, we can't spend the night anywhere near the farm," I said, grabbing him by the arm, hoping to sway him.
"Well, I mean, if you want, we can grab your stuff, and my house can literally go anywhere," Eli said in an offhand manner, as if he had expected this.
"Promise?" I asked, trying not to seem too afraid.
Within the hour, we had returned to the farmhouse. The hole I dug was still covered over, and I stared at it as we parked in Eli's black pickup truck.
I ran inside and quickly got changed into my only clean clothes, grabbing everything I had from the farmhouse. I paused at the dinner table, looking down at the photographs of the Harmons and thinking back to that weird moment in the hospital with that odd vision.
The day was getting longer, and I hurried back to Eli, waiting in the pickup truck. I threw my bag in the back and climbed in beside him. He smiled and backtracked down the lane. We turned to the left and went down a side road where we came upon my poor old car. It had crashed directly into a tree, and the whole front part of the car had been destroyed. Fluid leaked all over the road, and I almost shed a tear for my departed friend. We had traveled far together. I grabbed a few things from the car, but something was off about the car. The front door had been knocked off and was discarded on the far side of the road. It looked impossible; the door hadn't even hit the tree.
Eli hooked his truck up to his trailer, and we sped off, leaving the property behind us. We headed into town and found a pullout on the side of the road with a set of bathrooms to camp at for the night. Eli's trailer was messy but cozy. He had laundry strewn over most surfaces, but it didn't smell bad.
The room consisted of a small kitchen with a bed in one corner. There were also a lot of posters and artwork on the walls. I examined one of a pretty girl with long raven-black hair. It was a realist painting, obviously taken from real life.
"Who is this?" I asked as Eli made us some food.
"That is just a friend," Eli said, glancing at the painting he had done.
"Well, she is a pretty friend," I said, enjoying watching the back of his ears turn bright red.
"Dinner's ready," he said, pouring the mixture of food he had made onto a pair of plates.
Eli served me and handed me a can of Coke to drink. I thanked him and sat on his bed. It was the only serviceable piece of furniture in the whole trailer. We both sat in silence for a moment while we ate. I could tell something was bothering Eli as he kept making glances toward me.
"What? What is it, Eli? Just say it," I said between bites.
"Tell me what happened, Polly. Tell me why you were burying the scarecrow, why you were passed out in the road with straw in your hair. Tell me why you were muttering about the Harmons and a scarecrow when I found you," Eli said suddenly, as if he were unloading a machine gun.
I looked Eli square in the face and relented. I told him about the last couple of nights at the farmhouse, about how the scarecrow had been tormenting me every night. About how he had saved me and how last night I had fled through the fields to his trailer and then to my car. I told him about the vision I had about the Harmons in the hospital. By the end of it, I was in tears. I felt so foolish and childish.
Eli took it in stride. He asked a few questions during my retelling, but by the end of it, he was silent. Tears fell down my face and landed in my lap. We had both put our plates on the counter, and Eli hugged me. He put his arms around me, and I nuzzled into his shoulder, feeling comforted again in him at the lowest points of my life.
With a gentle hand, he wiped away my tears, and I smiled, letting a nervous laugh escape my lips. I looked up into his face and felt his stare before I saw it. His pale blue eyes shone with comfort, and then his lips were on mine as he kissed me quickly before pulling away slightly.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. That was insensitive of me. You're sad, and I took advantage of that," Eli said, moving back slightly.
"Shut up," I said, and grabbed his shirt, bringing him back in.
2024.05.21 16:57 Shagrrotten The Greatest Car Chases in Movie History, Ranked
Taken from: https://www.theringer.com/movies/2024/5/21/24161120/greatest-movie-car-chase-scenes-ranked-furiosa-mad-max-saga
In honor of the imminent ‘Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga,’ we’re shifting into high gear to determine the best chase scene in cinema history
By Miles Surrey May 21, 2024, 6:30am EDTGetty Images/Ringer illustration
After wowing audiences with Mad Max: Fury Road, director George Miller returns to the franchise’s post-apocalyptic wastelands for Furiosa, the epic origin story of the eponymous heroine (now played by Anya Taylor-Joy), premiering on Friday. As the follow-up to one of the greatest action films ever made, it’s hard to overstate the hype for Furiosa, and that was before word got out about a showstopping 15-minute sequence that required nearly 200 stuntpeople and took 78 days to shoot. While Furiosa will have its own distinct flavor, as is true of every Mad Max movie, there’s one thing that unites these projects: intense, jaw-dropping scenes of vehicular mayhem. And what better way to honor the franchise than by celebrating what it does best?
Ahead of Furiosa’s release, we’ve put together our definitive ranking of the best car chases in cinema. There weren’t any strict rules in place, other than capping the list at 20—mostly for my own sanity—and limiting every franchise to one entry. (Apologies to Fury Road’s kickass predecessor The Road Warrior.) We also won’t discriminate against scenes that feature motorbikes, so long as cars (and/or trucks) remain part of the equation. As for what, exactly, constitutes a good car chase? Like list making, it’s bound to be subjective, but I tend to gravitate toward two key elements: the skill of the stuntwork on display and the ways in which a filmmaker conveys the action in relation to the story. (Also, the less CGI, the better.) Buckle up, ’cause we’re not wasting any time shifting into high gear.
If we’re being honest, though, it feels like James Bond has yet to create a franchise-defining car chase. Perhaps that’s a mission the newest 007, whoever it ends up being, can undertake.
We’ll be sure to update this ranking if and when Cruise does something even more dangerous down the road, pun unintended.
Vanishing Point might not boast the impressive production values of other movies on this list, but considering Tarantino would go on to feature a white Challenger in Death Proof, its influence in the car cinema canon is undeniable.
If the Fast franchise is going to break out of its recent slump, it would do well to remember that there’s nothing better than letting its heroes live their lives a quarter mile at a time—no detours to outer space required.
The sheer scale of The Blues Brothers’ final set piece is commendable in and of itself—as is the movie’s commitment to treating real-life cars like a bunch of Hot Wheels.
Baby Driver’s gimmick stretches a little thin by the end, but it’s hard to deny the crowd-pleasing power of Wright’s film when it’s firing on all cylinders.
This belongs in an entirely new category of combat: car fights. There are so many action scenes in The Raid 2 worth writing home about—the kitchen showdown is an all-timer—but the fact that Evans casually tossed in an unforgettable car chase shows why he’s one of one.
If the general vibes of The Driver seem familiar, that’s because it was a major inspiration for Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive, which just so happened to feature an unnamed protagonist (Ryan Gosling) evading police through the streets of Los Angeles.
If I’m being honest, I’m usually one of those people who doesn’t like the Bourne movies’ shaky-cam style, but when it’s executed with such craftsmanship, you can’t help but get caught up in its adrenaline-pumping power.
The sequence isn’t quite at the level of Bullitt or The French Connection—very few are—but D’Antoni still manages to leave an unmistakable imprint on the car chase canon.
If the Academy handed out Oscars to stunt performers—and let’s hope it does happen one day—Bell would’ve won in a landslide.
The fact that Friedkin shot the chase at the end of filming—in case anything disastrous happened to the actors—underscores just how risky the endeavor was. The pulse-pounding results speak for themselves.
The Matrix remains the Wachowskis’ masterpiece, but don’t get it twisted: The filmmakers were still cooking with gas in the sequel.
While Halicki wound up making a few more indies after Gone in 60 Seconds, he died in an accident on the set of its sequel. His legacy as a do-it-all daredevil, however, lives on.
Big Jim is still revolutionizing what can be achieved with visual effects in the Avatar franchise, and while I cherish those movies, nothing beats his old-school showmanship.
Spielberg would move on to bigger and better things after Duel, but considering how much the director accomplished with so little, you can’t help but wonder what else he could conjure up with limited resources.
To quote Steven Soderbergh’s thoughts on Fury Road: “I don’t understand how they’re not still shooting that film and I don’t understand how hundreds of people aren’t dead.” Whether or not Miller manages to one-up the action in Furiosa, the director is already in the pantheon.
My Ringer colleague Justin Sayles believes The French Connection’s chase should’ve landed at no. 1, and I’m sure many folks will agree with him. Being the only film on this list to win Best Picture, however, is a solid consolation prize.
That the car driven by McQueen was recently sold at auction for $3.74 million, a then-record price for a Mustang, underlines Bullitt’s enduring legacy.
There are many worthy car chases in this ranking, but in my view, Ronin takes pole position. And while I can’t imagine a movie ever topping what Frankenheimer achieved, I’d love nothing more than to be proved wrong.
submitted by Shagrrotten to IMDbFilmGeneral [link] [comments]
In honor of the imminent ‘Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga,’ we’re shifting into high gear to determine the best chase scene in cinema history
By Miles Surrey May 21, 2024, 6:30am EDTGetty Images/Ringer illustration
After wowing audiences with Mad Max: Fury Road, director George Miller returns to the franchise’s post-apocalyptic wastelands for Furiosa, the epic origin story of the eponymous heroine (now played by Anya Taylor-Joy), premiering on Friday. As the follow-up to one of the greatest action films ever made, it’s hard to overstate the hype for Furiosa, and that was before word got out about a showstopping 15-minute sequence that required nearly 200 stuntpeople and took 78 days to shoot. While Furiosa will have its own distinct flavor, as is true of every Mad Max movie, there’s one thing that unites these projects: intense, jaw-dropping scenes of vehicular mayhem. And what better way to honor the franchise than by celebrating what it does best?
Ahead of Furiosa’s release, we’ve put together our definitive ranking of the best car chases in cinema. There weren’t any strict rules in place, other than capping the list at 20—mostly for my own sanity—and limiting every franchise to one entry. (Apologies to Fury Road’s kickass predecessor The Road Warrior.) We also won’t discriminate against scenes that feature motorbikes, so long as cars (and/or trucks) remain part of the equation. As for what, exactly, constitutes a good car chase? Like list making, it’s bound to be subjective, but I tend to gravitate toward two key elements: the skill of the stuntwork on display and the ways in which a filmmaker conveys the action in relation to the story. (Also, the less CGI, the better.) Buckle up, ’cause we’re not wasting any time shifting into high gear.
20. Quantum of Solace (2008)
There have been some memorable car chases in the James Bond franchise: the first sequence featuring the iconic Aston Martin DB5 in Goldfinger, the corkscrew jump in The Man With the Golden Gun, the Lotus Esprit submarine in The Spy Who Loved Me. But I’m going with a somewhat controversial pick here: Quantum of Solace. There are many issues with Quantum of Solace—namely, it was one of the most high-profile blockbusters affected by the 2007-08 writers strike—but its opening scene isn’t one of them. Picking up right where Casino Royale left off, we find Bond (Daniel Craig) evading henchmen through the narrow roads around Italy’s Lake Garda. The frenetic, furious chase mirrors Bond’s sense of anguish after losing Vesper Lynd (Eva Green), the woman he opened his heart to, and his relentless quest for answers. It’s a thrilling tone-setter for Quantum of Solace and one that doesn’t overstay its welcome, capped off by Bond sending his final pursuers flying off a cliff:If we’re being honest, though, it feels like James Bond has yet to create a franchise-defining car chase. Perhaps that’s a mission the newest 007, whoever it ends up being, can undertake.
19. Mission: Impossible—Rogue Nation (2015)
The Mission: Impossible franchise is no stranger to electrifying chase scenes, the best of which find Tom Cruise’s Ethan Hunt working up his heart rate. When it comes to action behind the wheel, though, Fallout tends to dominate the discussion—even on this very website. But I think the vehicular chase in Rogue Nation is being slept on. What we have is effectively two sequences for the price of one: The first finds Hunt pursuing Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson) by car through the narrow streets of Casablanca alongside some nefarious henchmen; the second sees him continue the chase outside the city on motorbike. (Adding to the chaos: Hunt had only just been resuscitated, and he’s clearly not all there.) In terms of death-defying stunts for the audience’s entertainment, a helmetless Cruise taking corners like a MotoGP racer is child’s play compared to his other exploits, but the actor’s authentic reaction to scraping his knee on the road underlines that there’s no one else in Hollywood doing it like him:We’ll be sure to update this ranking if and when Cruise does something even more dangerous down the road, pun unintended.
18. Vanishing Point (1971)
A movie that counts the likes of Steven Spielberg and Quentin Tarantino among its biggest fans, Vanishing Point is the first of a few entries on this ranking that’s essentially one extended car chase. The film stars Barry Newman as Kowalski, a man tasked with delivering a Dodge Challenger T 440 Magnum from Colorado to California while eluding police across four states. One of Kowalski’s most memorable run-ins comes when a guy driving a Jaguar E-Type convertible challenges him to an impromptu race. Incredibly, we’re expected to believe the man in the Jag comes out of this crash in one piece:Vanishing Point might not boast the impressive production values of other movies on this list, but considering Tarantino would go on to feature a white Challenger in Death Proof, its influence in the car cinema canon is undeniable.
17. Fast Five (2011)
Let’s face it, Fast & Furious has seen better days. Some believe the franchise’s dip in quality coincided with the death of Paul Walker; others are dismayed by the pivot from street racing to absurd feats of superherodom—emphasis on the Dom. Perhaps it’s a bit of both, but the very best movie in the series, Fast Five, manages to strike the perfect balance: It’s a relatively grounded heist thriller that nevertheless takes the franchise to ridiculous new heights. After Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) and his crew steal $100 million from a Brazilian kingpin, they drag the entire bank vault holding the money through the streets of Rio de Janeiro, all while being pursued by authorities. It’s a delightfully destructive sequence that does untold damage to Rio’s infrastructure and features some of the most bone-crunching crashes committed to film:If the Fast franchise is going to break out of its recent slump, it would do well to remember that there’s nothing better than letting its heroes live their lives a quarter mile at a time—no detours to outer space required.
16. The Blues Brothers (1980)
A good car chase isn’t reserved just for action flicks: Comedies can get in on the act, too. In The Blues Brothers, starring the recurring Saturday Night Live characters played by John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd, the beloved bandmates must prevent the foreclosure of the orphanage where they were raised by scrounging together $5,000. Naturally, that’s easier said than done: Along the way, the Blues Brothers draw the attention of neo-Nazis, a country-and-western band, and local police. While The Blues Brothers has amusing gags and musical numbers, its chase sequences with the Brothers behind the wheel of a 1974 Dodge Monaco are what really steal the show—and none are better than a climactic pursuit across Chicago. More than 60 old police cars were used in the film, some of which are wrecked in a comically over-the-top pileup:The sheer scale of The Blues Brothers’ final set piece is commendable in and of itself—as is the movie’s commitment to treating real-life cars like a bunch of Hot Wheels.
15. Baby Driver (2017)
For good and for ill, Edgar Wright’s movies exude an abundance of style, and Baby Driver is no exception. Baby Driver is centered on a clever gimmick: The action works in tandem with its soundtrack because the film’s protagonist, Baby (Ansel Elgort), suffers from tinnitus and constantly plays music to drown out the ringing. When everything’s clicking into place, Baby Driver feels like a supersized series of music videos, and nothing hits quite like its opening sequence. Baby acts as the getaway driver for a bank robbery while listening to the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion’s “Bellbottoms.” The ensuing chase works around rhythms of the song, as if Baby’s Subaru WRX were the star of its own dance number. Take nothing away from the actual driving, either, which puts the rally car to good use:Baby Driver’s gimmick stretches a little thin by the end, but it’s hard to deny the crowd-pleasing power of Wright’s film when it’s firing on all cylinders.
14. The Raid 2 (2014)
With a trio of kickass Indonesian martial arts films under his belt, Gareth Evans has established himself as one of the most exciting action directors on the planet—someone who seems most in his element staging positively brutal hand-to-hand combat. In The Raid 2, however, Evans also brought his signature brand of carnage to the road. While there’s some cleverly executed close-quarters fighting within the confines of an SUV, courtesy of Iko Uwais’s hard-hitting protagonist, what really cements this sequence’s greatness are the moments when Evans turns the cars into an extension of the characters’ fists:This belongs in an entirely new category of combat: car fights. There are so many action scenes in The Raid 2 worth writing home about—the kitchen showdown is an all-timer—but the fact that Evans casually tossed in an unforgettable car chase shows why he’s one of one.
13. The Driver (1978)
I’ll say this for Walter Hill’s The Driver: It sure lives up to its title. In this stripped-down thriller—one where none of the characters have a name—we follow the Driver (Ryan O’Neal), a getaway driver who has become a thorn in the side of the LAPD. In the film’s best scene, we see its taciturn protagonist living up to his reputation. With the Driver behind the wheel of a 1974 Ford Galaxie, a cat-and-mouse game unfolds when a handful of police cars are hot on his tail. What I love about this sequence is the pared-down nature of it all: The Driver outwits the cops as much as he outraces them. (Though, ironically, that wasn’t entirely by design: As Hill later explained, an accident on the last night of shooting meant they had to cobble together what had already been filmed.) Frankly, you’d never know the difference from the finished article:If the general vibes of The Driver seem familiar, that’s because it was a major inspiration for Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive, which just so happened to feature an unnamed protagonist (Ryan Gosling) evading police through the streets of Los Angeles.
12. The Bourne Supremacy (2004)
The shaky-cam style of the Bourne franchise isn’t for everyone—just ask John Woo—but credit where it’s due: These movies know how to deliver a good chase scene. (A friendly reminder that The Bourne Legacy is an underrated gem with an awesome motorbike sequence to boot.) But there’s one Bourne chase that stands above the rest: the Moscow getaway in The Bourne Supremacy. After being wounded by the Russian assassin Kirill (Karl Urban), Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) hijacks a taxi, with both the police and Kirill in hot pursuit. This isn’t the kind of sequence that lingers on any one shot; instead, what makes it work is the frenetic nature of the editing, which allows the viewer to feel like they’re in Bourne’s fight-or-flight headspace:If I’m being honest, I’m usually one of those people who doesn’t like the Bourne movies’ shaky-cam style, but when it’s executed with such craftsmanship, you can’t help but get caught up in its adrenaline-pumping power.
11. The Seven-Ups (1973)
Philip D’Antoni was the producer of two movies featuring Hall of Fame car chases, Bullitt and The French Connection, the latter of which won him an Oscar for Best Picture. And with his lone directorial feature, The Seven-Ups, D’Antoni sought to craft an iconic sequence of his own. The film stars Roy Scheider as NYPD detective Buddy Mannuci (elite Italian American name; I can practically smell the gabagool), who commands a unit handling major felony cases that lead to seven-plus-year prison sentences; that’s why they’re known as the Seven-Ups. Midway through the movie, when one of the team members is killed by two shooters who flee the scene, Buddy chases after them. The 10-minute sequence, which starts in the Upper West Side before moving out of the city, is thrillingly immersive, alternating between close-ups of the characters and wider shots of all the damage they’ve caused. But the chase’s defining moment comes right at the end, when Buddy narrowly avoids a grisly death:The sequence isn’t quite at the level of Bullitt or The French Connection—very few are—but D’Antoni still manages to leave an unmistakable imprint on the car chase canon.
10. Death Proof (2007)
If you ask Quentin Tarantino, Death Proof, his knowingly trashy tribute to exploitation cinema, is the worst movie he’s ever made. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a lot to admire about the film, which honors the unsung heroes of Hollywood: stunt performers. The first half of Death Proof follows three female friends who cross paths with Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell), a misogynistic serial killer who takes them out in his “death-proof” Chevy Nova. Fourteen months later, a group that includes stuntwoman Zoë Bell, playing herself, also lands on Mike’s radar. As Bell and her friends test out a ’70s Challenger, she performs a “ship’s mast” stunt, clinging onto the hood of the car with fastening belts. Unfortunately, when Mike pursues the women, it puts Bell in a precarious situation. Most of the entries on this list celebrate some next-level driving skills, but Death Proof’s inclusion is all about Bell pulling off one of the wildest stunts you’ll ever see. She’s quite literally hanging on for dear life:If the Academy handed out Oscars to stunt performers—and let’s hope it does happen one day—Bell would’ve won in a landslide.
9. To Live and Die in L.A. (1985)
William Friedkin was already responsible for an all-time great car chase in The French Connection (more on that later), but the filmmaker made a commendable bid to outdo himself with To Live and Die in L.A. In this neo-noir thriller, Secret Service agent Richard Chance (William L. Petersen) is hell-bent on arresting an expert counterfeiter, Rick Masters (Willem Dafoe), who kills Chance’s partner days before his retirement. To capture Masters, Chance and his new partner, John Vukovich (John Pankow), attempt to steal $50,000 from a jewelry buyer for an undercover operation. The sting goes bad when the buyer, who is later revealed to be an undercover FBI agent, is killed and a group of gunmen goes after Chance and Vukovich. It’s a clever inversion of the usual car chase formula—this time, it’s the lawmen running away from the criminals. The outside-the-box thinking extends to the film’s most astonishing stretch, in which Chance evades the gunmen by driving into oncoming traffic:The fact that Friedkin shot the chase at the end of filming—in case anything disastrous happened to the actors—underscores just how risky the endeavor was. The pulse-pounding results speak for themselves.
8. The Matrix Reloaded (2003)
The Matrix sequels have never been held in high esteem, but I’m ready to live my truth: The Matrix Reloaded fucking rules. (If anyone’s got a problem with this take, file your complaints with the Architect.) What’s more, the film happens to boast the finest action set piece of the franchise: the highway chase. After Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) and Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) free the Keymaker (Randall Duk Kim), a program capable of creating shortcuts within the Matrix, they’re pursued by the Twins (Neil and Adrian Rayment). Morpheus once warned that going on the freeway was “suicide,” and it doesn’t take long to see why: The chase draws the attention of several Agents, who repeatedly take over the bodies of other drivers on the road. The scene is the best of both worlds: There’s some incredible stuntwork on display, including when Moss weaves around on a Ducati, and CGI augments some feats of superhuman strength. But the most jaw-dropping aspect of the sequence is how it came together, as the production spent $2.5 million to construct its own highway (!) on California’s Alameda Island. If that weren’t unique enough, I’m pretty sure Reloaded is also the only movie in existence in which a katana takes out an SUV:The Matrix remains the Wachowskis’ masterpiece, but don’t get it twisted: The filmmakers were still cooking with gas in the sequel.
7. Gone in 60 Seconds (1974)
Size isn’t everything, but for H. B. Halicki, who produced, wrote, directed, and starred in Gone in 60 Seconds, it’s certainly part of the package. The indie action flick follows Maindrian Pace (Halicki), a Los Angeles insurance investigator who has a lucrative side hustle jacking high-end cars. The plot kicks into motion when a South American drug lord enlists Pace to nab 48 cars within five days in exchange for $400,000. Of course, Gone in 60 Seconds is best known for what happens after Pace is caught stealing a 1973 Ford Mustang Mach 1, when he leads police on a chase that lasts a whopping 40 minutes. (More than 90 cars were destroyed in the process.) Halicki, for his part, did all the driving himself, including a spectacular jump off a makeshift ramp of crashed cars:While Halicki wound up making a few more indies after Gone in 60 Seconds, he died in an accident on the set of its sequel. His legacy as a do-it-all daredevil, however, lives on.
6. Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)
Long before James Cameron immersed himself in the world of Pandora, he was a pioneer of state-of-the-art visual effects. Case in point: Terminator 2: Judgment Day is credited for having the first CGI character in a blockbuster, the T-1000 (Robert Patrick), a killing machine composed of a futuristic liquid metal. But Cameron also understood that the CGI of that era shouldn’t be the main attraction: It worked best as a complement to the practical effects, as seen in Judgment Day’s epic viaduct chase. When the T-1000 tracks down a young John Connor (Edward Furlong) in a shopping mall, he’s saved at the last minute by the Terminator (Arnold Schwarzenegger), giving John a chance to escape on his dirt bike. As the T-1000 gives chase, the David and Goliath vibes between man and machine are further epitomized by the T-1000’s commandeering of a truck. The sequence already has a terrifying sense of urgency, but it hits another level when the T-1000 crashes through the viaduct like the Kool-Aid Man:Big Jim is still revolutionizing what can be achieved with visual effects in the Avatar franchise, and while I cherish those movies, nothing beats his old-school showmanship.
5. Duel (1971)
The feature-length debut of Steven Spielberg—perhaps you’ve heard of him—the TV movie Duel is essentially one extended chase sequence between salesman David Mann (Dennis Weaver) and a sinister trucker determined to drive him off the road. I’ve attached a clip from the ending of the film, but that doesn’t do Duel justice. What cements this movie’s greatness is how it sustains an unbearable level of tension across its 90-minute running time—with a budget under $500,000, no less. Spielberg’s masterstroke is never once showing us the other driver, anthropomorphizing the truck itself as a monster. (You can see a lot of similarities with how he would build suspense in Jaws.) When Mann finally gets the upper hand, tricking his adversary into driving off a cliff, it feels like you can breathe again:Spielberg would move on to bigger and better things after Duel, but considering how much the director accomplished with so little, you can’t help but wonder what else he could conjure up with limited resources.
4. Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)
Like Duel, Fury Road is basically one long car chase—the difference is Miller got to work with a blockbuster budget, and made every cent of it count. It’s hard to pick a single standout sequence in Fury Road, but if I had to choose, I’d go with the first attack on the War Rig after Furiosa (Charlize Theron) flees with the wives of Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne). Here’s why: Think back to when you saw Fury Road for the first time, before you fully grasped the vehicular carnage that was in store. And then stuff like this kept happening:To quote Steven Soderbergh’s thoughts on Fury Road: “I don’t understand how they’re not still shooting that film and I don’t understand how hundreds of people aren’t dead.” Whether or not Miller manages to one-up the action in Furiosa, the director is already in the pantheon.
3. The French Connection (1971)
We return to the Friedkin-verse for what may be his best film, The French Connection, the crime thriller based on Robin Moore’s 1969 nonfiction book of the same name. The story concerns two NYPD detectives, Jimmy “Popeye” Doyle (Gene Hackman) and Buddy “Cloudy” Russo (Roy Scheider), and their tireless pursuit of a French heroin smuggler. But while there’s plenty to admire about how The French Connection illustrates the thin line between police and criminals, its greatest claim to fame is its car chase. After Popeye narrowly survives a sniper attack, he goes after the shooter, who escapes on an elevated train. The ensuing sequence is true daredevil filmmaking that Friedkin shot without permits, leading to real crashes with New Yorkers that made the final cut. But Friedkin’s finest touch was mounting a camera to the front of the car, making the audience feel like they’re part of the action:My Ringer colleague Justin Sayles believes The French Connection’s chase should’ve landed at no. 1, and I’m sure many folks will agree with him. Being the only film on this list to win Best Picture, however, is a solid consolation prize.
2. Bullitt (1968)
When it comes to modern car chases, all roads lead back to Bullitt. A Dad Cinema classic, the film stars Steve McQueen as Frank Bullitt, a San Francisco detective who pursues a group of mobsters after a key witness is killed in protective custody. In his search for answers, Bullitt realizes he’s being tailed by a couple of hitmen, and then turns the tables on them. From there, the chase is on. Aside from McQueen doing most of his own stunts behind the wheel of a Ford Mustang GT 390 Fastback, what’s so impressive about the sequence is how timeless it is. Even the little imperfections, like hubcaps repeatedly coming off the wheels, work to the film’s advantage, stressing just how much these drivers are living on a razor’s edge. It’s been more than 50 years since Bullitt revolutionized the car chase, and yet few movies since have felt like they’re pushing the envelope to such an exhilarating degree:That the car driven by McQueen was recently sold at auction for $3.74 million, a then-record price for a Mustang, underlines Bullitt’s enduring legacy.
1. Ronin (1998)
“If I’m going to do a car chase,” filmmaker John Frankenheimer said in an interview with the American Society of Cinematographers, “I’m going to do a car chase that’s going to make somebody think about whether or not they want to do another one!” Boy, did he ever. In Frankenheimer’s late-career masterpiece, Ronin, the director actually incorporated several chases, but it’s the climactic sequence that stands alone as the greatest ever filmed. The movie concerns an international group of mercenaries who are hired to steal a mysterious briefcase; a series of double-crosses and double-bluffs ensue. But for the final chase, all you need to know is that Sam (Robert De Niro), a mercenary with ties to the CIA, is in pursuit of Deirdre (Natascha McElhone), an IRA operative in possession of the case. Winding through the streets and tunnels of Paris, what’s most striking is just how fluid it all feels. You’re completely engrossed in the chase’s forward momentum, captured from every conceivable angle; a symphony of controlled chaos. The driving styles even reflect the characters: Deirdre is reckless and impulsive, while Sam remains calm and controlled.There are many worthy car chases in this ranking, but in my view, Ronin takes pole position. And while I can’t imagine a movie ever topping what Frankenheimer achieved, I’d love nothing more than to be proved wrong.
2024.05.21 16:49 MightyBobTheMighty Nomenclature Proposal
For context, I started playing during Shadowbringers. I was a bit of a holdout with the group I was with, so by the time I started most of them were a significant way into the story, and by the time I caught up many were omni-80. Once Endwalker dropped, I myself caught up and eventually got omni-90.
With Dawntrail, it will be possible to get all your jobs to level 100. The problem is... omni-hundred just doesn't have the same ring to it, does it? You don't get the rhyme of -ni and -ty, the stress on the syllables doesn't work out as cleanly, and the rhythm is just a bit off.
Therefore, I propose a different tack. We instead go a slightly different route, and use a different word for one hundred. When every job is at 100, we can say we're omni-cent. This opens up a whole new world of wordplay (and smugness) until next expansion when we can go back to saying we're omni-eleventy.
Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.
submitted by MightyBobTheMighty to ffxiv [link] [comments]
With Dawntrail, it will be possible to get all your jobs to level 100. The problem is... omni-hundred just doesn't have the same ring to it, does it? You don't get the rhyme of -ni and -ty, the stress on the syllables doesn't work out as cleanly, and the rhythm is just a bit off.
Therefore, I propose a different tack. We instead go a slightly different route, and use a different word for one hundred. When every job is at 100, we can say we're omni-cent. This opens up a whole new world of wordplay (and smugness) until next expansion when we can go back to saying we're omni-eleventy.
Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.
2024.05.21 16:34 Master_Ad_3387 How to entertain group of 5 year olds on a walk?
I'm training to be a classroom assistant. I am leading a walk for a small grooup of autistic children. I want idead to entertain/educate them enroute.
The group consists of 6 children aged from 4-6 years old, boys and girls. The group is autistic. 3 of the children are very enthusiastic and enjoy activites (one of those children can be disobediant if the mood strikes her).
The remaining children like to do their own thing but generally go along with the activity, as much as they can.
We're going for a walk in a nature park. To complete the course, I need to write an assignment explaining the acitivty and how I looked after the children during the session.
How do I keep them entertained?
Ideas so far include:
submitted by Master_Ad_3387 to ECEProfessionals [link] [comments]
The group consists of 6 children aged from 4-6 years old, boys and girls. The group is autistic. 3 of the children are very enthusiastic and enjoy activites (one of those children can be disobediant if the mood strikes her).
The remaining children like to do their own thing but generally go along with the activity, as much as they can.
We're going for a walk in a nature park. To complete the course, I need to write an assignment explaining the acitivty and how I looked after the children during the session.
How do I keep them entertained?
Ideas so far include:
- Singing songs
- Telling nursery rhymes
- Asking them to point out colours and shapes. Count anything we can.
- Ask them what they can see/smell, touch and hear (this is to keep different learning styles engaged.
- Word association/guessing games: e.g. "I see something green that rhymes with lass" (Grass).
- Find things: Have a sheet of paper with pictures of things they will see on the walk. Ask them to look out for trees, mushrooms, dogs, birds etc.
- Marching: Get tehm to march left, right, left single file.
- Terrain: Point out how things feel under their feet. E.g. When we walk on gravel notice how it's crunchy. On grass, notice how soft it is.
2024.05.21 16:32 Master_Ad_3387 How to entertain group of 5 year olds on a walk
I'm training to be a classroom assistant. I am leading a walk for a small grooup of autistic children. I want idead to entertain/educate them enroute.
The group consists of 6 children aged from 4-6 years old, boys and girls. The group is autistic. 3 of the children are very enthusiastic and enjoy activites (one of those children can be disobediant if the mood strikes her).
The remaining children like to do their own thing but generally go along with the activity, as much as they can.
We're going for a walk in a nature park. To complete the course, I need to write an assignment explaining the acitivty and how I looked after the children during the session.
How do I keep them entertained?
Ideas so far include:
submitted by Master_Ad_3387 to Preschoolers [link] [comments]
The group consists of 6 children aged from 4-6 years old, boys and girls. The group is autistic. 3 of the children are very enthusiastic and enjoy activites (one of those children can be disobediant if the mood strikes her).
The remaining children like to do their own thing but generally go along with the activity, as much as they can.
We're going for a walk in a nature park. To complete the course, I need to write an assignment explaining the acitivty and how I looked after the children during the session.
How do I keep them entertained?
Ideas so far include:
- Singing songs
- Telling nursery rhymes
- Asking them to point out colours and shapes. Count anything we can.
- Ask them what they can see/smell, touch and hear (this is to keep different learning styles engaged.
- Word association/guessing games: e.g. "I see something green that rhymes with lass" (Grass).
- Find things: Have a sheet of paper with pictures of things they will see on the walk. Ask them to look out for trees, mushrooms, dogs, birds etc.
- Marching: Get tehm to march left, right, left single file.
- Terrain: Point out how things feel under their feet. E.g. When we walk on gravel notice how it's crunchy. On grass, notice how soft it is.
2024.05.21 16:31 Master_Ad_3387 How to entertain group of 5 year olds on a walk
I'm training to be a classroom assistant. I am leading a walk for a small grooup of autistic children. I want idead to entertain/educate them enroute.
The group consists of 6 children aged from 4-6 years old, boys and girls. The group is autistic. 3 of the children are very enthusiastic and enjoy activites (one of those children can be disobediant if the mood strikes her).
The remaining children like to do their own thing but generally go along with the activity, as much as they can.
We're going for a walk in a nature park. To complete the course, I need to write an assignment explaining the acitivty and how I looked after the children during the session.
How do I keep them entertained?
Ideas so far include:
submitted by Master_Ad_3387 to autism [link] [comments]
The group consists of 6 children aged from 4-6 years old, boys and girls. The group is autistic. 3 of the children are very enthusiastic and enjoy activites (one of those children can be disobediant if the mood strikes her).
The remaining children like to do their own thing but generally go along with the activity, as much as they can.
We're going for a walk in a nature park. To complete the course, I need to write an assignment explaining the acitivty and how I looked after the children during the session.
How do I keep them entertained?
Ideas so far include:
- Singing songs
- Telling nursery rhymes
- Asking them to point out colours and shapes. Count anything we can.
- Ask them what they can see/smell, touch and hear (this is to keep different learning styles engaged.
- Word association/guessing games: e.g. "I see something green that rhymes with lass" (Grass).
- Find things: Have a sheet of paper with pictures of things they will see on the walk. Ask them to look out for trees, mushrooms, dogs, birds etc.
- Marching: Get tehm to march left, right, left single file.
- Terrain: Point out how things feel under their feet. E.g. When we walk on gravel notice how it's crunchy. On grass, notice how soft it is.
2024.05.21 15:52 figure_sk8 Safe House (GMMTV) Day 3, Part 2/2 Summary/Rough Translation [Potential Spoilers]
Hi everyone,
Here's the summary for the second half of Day 3 of Safe House. There were also quite a few talking-based activities today, and I directly transcribed a bit more this time, especially during the cooking competition, because a lot was happening so I wanted all the funny exchanges to be translated. Hope you guys enjoy!
Video Link: https://www.youtube.com/live/cjn8w8j06ik?feature=shared
submitted by figure_sk8 to ThaiBL [link] [comments]
Here's the summary for the second half of Day 3 of Safe House. There were also quite a few talking-based activities today, and I directly transcribed a bit more this time, especially during the cooking competition, because a lot was happening so I wanted all the funny exchanges to be translated. Hope you guys enjoy!
Video Link: https://www.youtube.com/live/cjn8w8j06ik?feature=shared
- They're having a jam session when we join
- 3:45 Neo and Luke are improvising a song about all the guys. I'll just translate the lyrics that Luke sings in Thai because he also sings in English a bit too. When you hear Neo talking/singing, he's trying to translate what Luke is singing, but sometimes he's a little off.
- Mix: "can be good but also bad. Likes to eat a lot with Pond"
- Phuwin: (sings in English)
- Pond: (sings in English) "Everyone knows that he always wants to eat rice with Thai omelette (extra salty)"
- Neo: "He's probably the most annoying in the house, but he's also cute. He loves annoying everyone a lot, especially Earth. That's the kind of person he is. He plays guitar really well."
- Khaotung: "I like how he likes similar things as me. I like how he plays darts with me. I like how he also wins games like me."
- (pause while they laugh)
- 6:30 Earth: "Everyone who's watching this livestream knows that he likes to wear this red sweatshirt." (pause because Neo needs to think of what to play) "Red shirt, red shirt, has nice stuff in his hair" (then sings in English) (pause because of Neo's mistranslation) "Actually, he should be the best in the house, but right now he has the lowest score. But that's alright, because there's lots of time for him to win more games."
- Gun: "Yellow shirt, like the Sang Sang that he's the presenter of. He's really tiny, but his smile is huge. He's also very good-looking and the nicest in the house" (then Luke says something a bit funny but rude, which makes Gun get up and try to push a pillow in Luke's face)
- 9:50 Mix and Gun go to the kitchen. The others realise that they can watch the footage of the kitchen from the TV.
- 10:45 Neo and Khaotung consider improvising a song for Luke since he didn't get to sing about himself, but Luke declines.
- 12:15 PD asks everyone to assemble in the kitchen. She makes a notification sound before speaking so that the guys don't get startled, which they appreciate
- 13:20 Medal competition sponsored by Sea Me Now. Gun reads the rules. They will divide themselves into two teams. Each team will send two members to prepare "yum" (a type of Thai salad served at room temperature, often involving some kind of noodles like glass noodles) within 15 minutes, using the seafood from Sea Me Now. Meanwhile, the remaining 4 guys will wait in another room until the dishes are ready, and they will come and blindly taste the dishes and vote on which dish is better. Winning team gets one medal each.
- 16:00 PD asks the teams which member each thinks is the best cook in the team. Phuwin is the best of the left team, and the right-hand team are undecided between Gun and Khaotung. At 17:30 PD asks which member from each group is the worst at cooking. The guys start to figure out that PD is going to pair the best cook with the worst cook, so the right-hand team try to blag that Khaotung and Gun don't know how to cook that well after all. At 18:30, Neo is the only one who hasn't caught on to PD's plan, so he raises his hand to indicate that he's the worst cook on that team because he thinks it means he won't have to cook. Final cooking teams are Phuwin/Neo and Gun/Pond. The rest go to wait in the play zone.
- 21:00 Phuwin has only just realised that they are required to make "yum," which he doesn't know how to make. He mistakenly thought they could make whatever they wanted. Gun is also not confident.
- 23:00 Cooking timer begins. Both teams decide to use the salmon. Phuwin/Neo decide they're going to leave their salmon raw. Pond asks Gun if they're going to leave theirs raw too, and Phuwin accuses him of copying them. Gun decides they're going to lightly blanch their salmon.
- 28:00 Neo goes to look for a food processor. Gun asks if he can process enough chilis for both teams, and Neo initially jokingly declines, but then agrees.
- 30:15 Phuwin asks Neo to make the glass noodles. Neo isn't sure how to prepare them, and Phuwin guesses that they're supposed to just put them briefly in boiling water (which is correct)
- 31:30 We cut to the play zone where the tasting teams do a light brand plug for Sea Me Now. They teach Luke a new word that basically means "great." (I guess it's kind of like "sick" in English how the actual definition of the word is different, but it's slang when used in context). Mix is confident that Gun/Pond are going to make the better dish.
- 37:00 PD announces one minute remaining, and that "the customers are complaining." Gun/Pond finish with some time to spare and present their dish to the camera, but Phuwin/Neo finish a little late (but it's fine; there will be no penalty. PD just keeps rushing them to finish)
- 40:30 PD asks the teams to write the names of their respective dishes on the mini boards provided. Pond originally writes a name that indirectly reveals that he and Gun made that dish, and PD says that the names can't have any hints of who made which dish.
- 43:30 PD asks the teams to pose with their respective dishes, and invites the audience to screenshot and caption them. Gun/Pond's dish translates to, "Definitely delicious; try it and see," and Phuwin/Neo's dish (roughly) translates to, "Just making a 'yum,' but don't know how to make it" (It's a rhyme/pun in Thai)
- 44:30 Cooking teams leave the kitchen and go sit in the living room so they can watch the tasting on the TV. PD warns them not to cheat while the teams are changing rooms.
- 47:15, the tasting team goes to the kitchen. They each get 3 ping pong balls with which they can vote. Phuwin/Neo's dish is the white side, and Gun/Pond's is the blue side. The votes can be cast by dropping the balls into the coloured containers corresponding to the dishes.
- 48:00 It is immediately obvious to all of them immediately which team made which dish. Transcription starting from 48:20:
- Earth: "Why don't we start by judging the presentation before we taste?"
- Mix: "Looking at these two dishes, this one (blue) is definitely wins."
- Earth (trying to help his team): "I think I'm going to go with this one (white). Listen, none of us know which dish was made by which team..."
- Luke: "But we have theories."
- Mix: "I just want to know in what way this (white) dish could possibly be more beautiful than that (blue) dish."
- (pause while they think of some nonsense) Luke: "The vegetables. They just look so nice. And there are so many of them."
- Earth: "I'm giving it to this team (white)."
- Luke: "Me too."
- (audio cuts out for a few seconds)
- Mix is saying "The truth?!" to implore Earth and Luke to admit the truth, but they stick to their decisions
- Luke: "It's my personal opinion. I'm not changing."
- 49:55 Mix comes up to the camera and mouths, "There are cheaters here."
- Earth and Luke say, "Who knows? This plate could have been made by anyone."
- 50:15 Mix: "Okay, let's move on to the flavour." They taste Phuwin/Neo's first.
- Earth: "I hear laughing outside. Who's laughing?"
- 51:00 Luke: "Very good."
- Earth looks at Luke. Luke: "It's actually good. It suits my palate."
- Mix: "I mean, it's alright. It's not bad. The salmon and imitation crab are good. They taste really fresh. But the noodles are awkwardly super cold. Like, is this bamee yen (a cold noodle dish)? Also, there's just something not right. It's sour, and it's like trying to be spicy but not spicy, trying to be salty but not salty. It's not balanced. What do you think, Earth?"
- Earth: "I'll give it to you honestly."
- Mix: (puts his hand on Earth's shoulder and looks into his eyes) "Yes, give it to us honestly."
- Earth: "Okay, honestly, I like the raw ingredients. I like that the imitation crab meat is in large chunks. But..."
- Mix: "Look, he's talking about the raw ingredients. He's not even talking about the flavour of the dish."
- Earth: "The flavour is like how Mix described. And honestly, it's sour. It's so sour. Uncomfortably sour. Like, too sour. Can I have some water?"
- 52:40 Luke: "I really like how there are lots of vegetables here. That means that dish is really healthy for you. If you ask me if I can eat the other dish, I can eat it, but it won't be as healthy as this dish."
- Earth: "Oh, okay, so he's talking about the health value of the dish."
- Mix: "But we're talking about the flavour of the dish, here, no?"
- Luke: "I'm a person who doesn't like eating things too spicy. (uses the vocab word he learned earlier) So I like that this one is a good balance. It's not too spicy for me.
- 53:35 Earth looks at Luke and says, "Is it not too sour? I think you've already helped our team a lot here."
- Luke: "No, I don't think so. I honestly think it's good. But we haven't tried the other dish."
- Earth: "That's true. Different people have different flavour preferences. Some like super sour, for example. And if those people also don't like spicy food, this dish is for them."
- 54:05 They ask for Khaotung's review. He pauses and then quietly says, "Um... Sour. It's sour."
- Mix: "How about between the words 'delicious' and 'not delicious'?"
- Khaotung: "Well, I can definitely eat it. But it's super sour. It's not well-rounded."
- 54:35 They move on to taste Gun/Pond's dish. Mix comes to the camera and enthusiastically whispers, "It's SO good!"
- 55:15 Earth: "I like the creativity of this team. The salmon was raw, but this team lightly blanched the fish so that the inside is still raw, which adds a lot of layers to the flavours and textures of the dish. I like it."
- Mix: "Can I speak extendedly? It's SO good. It's amazing. It's well-rounded, yummy, the textures are amazing, and it's easy to see that the person who made it really knows how to cook. I'm pretty sure I know who made it." Khaotung agrees.
- 56:40 Luke decides to still vote for the white dish because the second dish is a bit too spicy for him. Earth sees that there's no way that the white dish can win anymore, so he puts his last ball into the white container anyway.
- 58:00 More brand plugging for Sea Me Now
- 59:45 PD calls the cooking teams back to the kitchen to announce the results.
- 1:00:35 Luke says to Phuwin/Neo: "I tried, guys." Neo says, "I love this guy. He said the truth straight from his heart." Earth says that he tried to say the truth too. Neo complains that he was working with so many ingredients he had no idea how to use. I was just putting everything in randomly. Mix asks who did the seasoning/flavouring, and Neo said, "Me, but we didn't have time to taste it because we ran out of time."
- 1:02:00 The cooking teams try each other's dishes (and Phuwin/Neo try their own dish for the first time too). Neo tries Gun/Pond's dish. Earth immediately feeds him a huge bite of his own dish. Neo pauses and says, "It seems like it's missing something." Mix and Earth say, "Not something. Many things. Like deliciousness." Earth feeds some to Phuwin, and he also doesn't like it.
- 1:02:45 Neo looks at Earth and says, "You did the right thing." (in reference to criticising this dish and voting for the other one). Earth says, "So you understand me now?!"
- Neo makes fun of how Gun was previously dramatic about not knowing how to make "yum." Gun says that he truly wasn't sure, and Neo feeds Gun some of Phuwin/Neo's dish saying, "See? This is what it means to truly not know what you're doing." Gun's eyes water while eating it, and he says, "It's so sour," and goes to hug Neo and Phuwin.
- 1:04:00 More brand plugging for Sea Me Now
- 1:05:00 Neo says that he's glad that there's at least someone (Luke) who enjoys eating his food. He then realises that Luke has only been eating the seafood and the vegetables, none of which have been flavoured/seasoned. Luke then takes a bite of the noodles to appease him.
- 1:06:00 Seafood lunch. Menu includes (professionally-made) "yum" with salmon and imitation crab topped with salmon roe; oysters with a seafood sauce; scallops fried with garlic, salt, and pepper; and grilled salmon steaks
- 1:17:45 Khaotung and Mix go to the kitchen to make some more food with the fresh seafood they have
- 1:19:15 Luke asks Earth why he's sitting so far away from him, and Neo turns it into a pun about Earth wanting scissors ("sitting far away" sounds a bit similar to "looking for scissors")
- 1:21:10 This is Pond's first time trying mashed potatoes. Luke and Phuwin explain what they are to him and explain that in some Western countries, they eat less rice than they do in Asia, so sometimes they eat potatoes as the starch (a lot of the dishes for this meal were prepared in a Western way)
- 1:22:30 Neo teaches them Isan slang that a more polite phrase to basically say, "BS-ing." They also mention the Central equivalent of the phrase. They ask Luke what an equivalent in English would be, but Luke can only think of "BS-ing," so he says that he can't say it out loud. He eventually goes with "spinning stuff." Neo says that he feels like English doesn't have as many rude/swearing words as Thai does, and Earth makes a joke that he wouldn't be surprised if Neo's name was rude in English.
- 1:23:55 They like how Luke seems especially giggly today, so they try to keep him laughing. Neo says a Thai phrase/idiom that basically means that he's not even being funny to his full capacity right now, then Earth and Phuwin give some sarcastic remarks that are like playful insults to Neo, which Luke continues laughing at.
- 1:26:00 Phuwin and Gun join Mix and Khaotung in the kitchen to cook some more seafood. They're prepping some salmon, scallops, and oysters. Gun wants to make lightly floured and pan-fried tofu.
- 1:27:30 The guys at the table are joking to Luke that it's Thai culture to be polite to people, but then the closer you get to them, the more you insult them. You start the insults behind their back, but then you can eventually insult them to their face (it's not technically false, especially for some friend groups, but the way they were explaining it is a bit too much, hahaha). Then they demonstrate that, actually, the best thing to do is to be polite to someone's face, and then behind their back, you compliment them again.
- 1:29:00 They exchange the English and Thai versions of the phrase "fishing for compliments"
- 1:32:20 Luke is trying to tell the story of why he came to Thailand, but he's still in his giggly mood. He wanted to be an actor in the US, but he was scouted from IG to come and be a model in Thailand, so he arranged to come for 3 months, but he liked it, so he stayed.
- 1:34:10 They mention that they're glad they have Neo in the house because otherwise it would be so much quieter and less entertaining.
- 1:40:15 Gun brings the tofu for the guys at the table to try. They struggle a bit because it's still very hot, but they approve.
- 1:43:45 The guys at the table talk about ventriloquists. Luke explains how in the US, ventriloquism can either be creepy or funny depending on the act, but in Thailand it tends to mostly be creepy. They start discussing some related film/series plots.
- 1:59:30 Pond, Neo, and Luke dance a bit for the cameras
- 2:01:00 Relaxing time. Mix presents the dish he made to the camera: spaghetti pad kee mao (drunken noodles) with scallops, crab, and salmon roe. He brings it to the living room for everyone else to try.
- 2:08:40 Some language lessons. Phuwin and Luke ask Neo some questions for him to answer in English. They also ask Luke some questions in Thai. They try to ask Neo and Luke to speak English and Thai (respectively) for two minutes each, language exam-style.
- 2:13:50 PD asks the losing team from the last game to go wash dishes. They say that the sink area is small, so two people will wash at a time.
- 2:36:05 Earth drops and breaks a dish. Earth tells a story about how when he was very young, he hated washing dishes, so sometimes he would secretly break some dirty dishes behind his house so he wouldn't have to clean as many. Eventually his mother started wondering where all the dishes were disappearing to, but she just kept buying more
- 2:41:15 PD asks for someone to wake Gun (who's napping on the sofa) and assemble in the area in front of the medal board for the next medal game. She asks Mix "the one with many medals" and Earth "the one with hardly any medals" to take the lead in reading the rules. Earth is offended, but PD says, "Earth, you have to accept the truth."
- 2:42:40 Game sponsored by Super Coffee. They will divide into two teams. King of the Day chooses the pairs that will compete together. Each person in the pair will wear a sumo costume with a bag of Super Coffee attached to their back. Whoever is the first to successfully remove the bag of coffee from their opponent's back wins that round, and their team is awarded one point in the game. Once all the pairs have competed, the winners will compete to determine the final winner. Winning team gets one medal each. The rules say nothing about singing or having dancing breaks during each match, but the guys do so anyway.
- 3:21:20 PD asks everyone to change into swimming clothes and meet at the pool. Phuwin has to study, so he won't join for the next activity.
- 3:39:00 Neo reads the directions. They're going to play the Werewolf (ma paa) game. Between the 7 of them, they will randomly get assigned roles: 2 werewolves (who can kill people), 1 bodyguard (who can choose someone to protect from death each round), 1 seer (who can privately uncover the identity of one other player each round), 1 hunter (who, if they are killed, can choose one other person they suspect of being a werewolf to die with them), and 2 villagers. PD will be the narratoreferee. The game is basically between the werewolves and everyone else. Each round, in order, the narrator will instruct the werewolves to choose someone to kill, then the bodyguard to choose someone to protect, then the seer to privately uncover the identity of one other player. Then everyone must talk and decide on one person to kill out of suspicion of being a werewolf. If both werewolves are killed, the common people win. If there's at least one werewolf left at the end of the game, the werewolves win.
- [PD is a very dramatic and colourful narrator, which is why everyone is reacting to most of her lines throughout the game. Werewolf in Thai is "ma paa" and villagetownsperson is "chao baan," to help you guys understand what's going on. All the other roles are called in English, although sometimes they call the bodyguard "moh" which means doctor]
- 3:45:30 First game: Werewolves=Gun/Earth, Bodyguard=Neo, Seer=Khaotung, Hunter=Mix
- First round: No one dies
- Second round: Pond dies. They vote to kill Khaotung
- 4:04:45 Third round: No one dies. Neo says that Mix is a common person because he saved this round. They vote to kill Earth
- 4:13:30 Fourth round: Neo dies. They vote to kill Gun. Common people win.
- 4:19:00 Second game. They're no longer allowed to say whether they saved someone or not. Werewolves=Khaotung/Mix, Bodyguard=Gun, Seer=Luke, Hunter=Pond
- First round: Earth dies. They know someone is lying because too many people are claiming to be villagers. They think they should believe Neo because he was so honest last round. They vote to kill Khaotung.
- 4:34:10 Second round: Pond dies and choses to kill Mix with him. Common people win.
- 4:37:50 PD asks them to vote on the best and worst liar. They aren't sure yet, but Khaotung is voted the worst liar. Punishment is cleaning one of the bathrooms tomorrow.
- 4:41:15 Relaxing time. Neo gets thrown in the pool.
- 5:08:00 Fan talk
- Group 1: It's supposed to be the 4 top scorers on the medal board, but Khaotung is still showering, so Earth goes in his place because he's lowest. Neo did a bit more exercise with Luke this morning. They recap the walking doll game from the morning and how random and unpredictable it was. Mix was bitter that he felt like being King today was more of a burden than Luke's experience the previous day. Luke says it's probably because Mix's Thai is better, so they felt like using him for more jobs/tasks. They recap the cooking competition; Gun/Mix say they were lucky that they were on the team that had several options of people who knew how to cook. They talked about how the judging was biased, but Earth said that at the end, he had to admit the fact that Phuwin/Neo's dish was so sour that he could feel it in his brain. Gun/Mix were glad that they didn't have to wash dishes today because there were so many dishes to wash, and they made fun of Earth breaking the dish. They all enjoyed the sumo game. They started to regret that they started the singing/dancing gag, but they committed to it for entertainment purposes. They agreed that Khaotung is indeed the dark horse because no one expected him to be that quick in the sumo game. Everyone also had fun playing Werewolf.
- 5:18:45 Fan comments: They like how Gun seems like the eldest brother in the house, taking care of everyone. People made fun of Earth's childhood dish-breaking story. (The guys eventually start talking amongst themselves, mainly about how Earth doesn't think he has a chance to win anymore, and they say that there are many more opportunities for medals in the coming days, so anything can happen)
- 5:26:15 Group 2: They talk about how much Pond likes rice with Thai omelette [note: pretty much everyone in Thailand loves it, but Pond feels like eating it all the time], and he likes to make Phuwin make it for him in this house. They're all impressed with how good Khaotung was at the sumo game. Phuwin/Neo explain what happened during the cooking competition: Phuwin usually never eats "yum," but last week, his family made some but he didn't have any, so he regrets not having it so he would have a better idea of how to make it. Neo said he was just randomly putting things in without knowing for sure if they were supposed to go in. They made fun of Neo's dishwashing "technique." They recapped Werewolf, and everyone was unsure whether to trust/believe the things Neo says because he talks rubbish a lot.
- 5:32:45 Fan comments: They mention that this has turned into a pure comedy show. They like how everyone works together and the vibe isn't overly competitive.
- 5:37:00 Late-night meal. Menu includes fried chicken wings, spaghetti carbonara, spaghetti with bacon, sticky rice with pork, sandwich, pizza, more spaghetti, and minced pork wrapped with noodles.
- They feel like today was very full/busy, and they're all feeling tired, but they've had fun.
- 5:47:00 Earth and Neo say that they may not have many medals, but at least they're funny. They get up and try to entertain the rest of the guys.
- Group 1: It's supposed to be the 4 top scorers on the medal board, but Khaotung is still showering, so Earth goes in his place because he's lowest. Neo did a bit more exercise with Luke this morning. They recap the walking doll game from the morning and how random and unpredictable it was. Mix was bitter that he felt like being King today was more of a burden than Luke's experience the previous day. Luke says it's probably because Mix's Thai is better, so they felt like using him for more jobs/tasks. They recap the cooking competition; Gun/Mix say they were lucky that they were on the team that had several options of people who knew how to cook. They talked about how the judging was biased, but Earth said that at the end, he had to admit the fact that Phuwin/Neo's dish was so sour that he could feel it in his brain. Gun/Mix were glad that they didn't have to wash dishes today because there were so many dishes to wash, and they made fun of Earth breaking the dish. They all enjoyed the sumo game. They started to regret that they started the singing/dancing gag, but they committed to it for entertainment purposes. They agreed that Khaotung is indeed the dark horse because no one expected him to be that quick in the sumo game. Everyone also had fun playing Werewolf.
- 5:52:45 Everyone bids farewell to Gun because it's his last night. Gun says to the audience, "Thank you so much for watching all of us these past three days. I hope you've enjoyed seeing our dynamics in this more relaxed environment. I hope you'll continue watching the rest of the guys for the rest of the days and see what fun is in store."
2024.05.21 15:00 hellopriyasharma Use Your Creativity with English Worksheets for Nursery Class
 | The English Worksheet for Nursery Class is a crucial tool for developing young learners' language foundations and should be included in the early education curriculum. Worksheets with imaginative designs have the power to pique kids' curiosity and increase their desire to learn English. This resource looks at creative ways to use English worksheets in early childhood education so that teachers may create a language-loving atmosphere that is enjoyable and stimulating. The objective is to successfully introduce basic English ideas while making learning as engaging and participatory as possible. submitted by hellopriyasharma to u/hellopriyasharma [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/70gzvqii2s1d1.jpg?width=960&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=991fe0588a9be6677598b7e0370ac96fbb292893 Engaging Young Minds with English Worksheets The use of English Worksheet for Nursery should be more than a mere paper-pencil activity. It should ignite curiosity, encourage exploration, and support cognitive development in young learners. Story-Based Worksheets: Incorporate worksheets that are based on simple stories or familiar nursery rhymes. These can include sequencing activities, picture matching, or fill-in-the-blanks with words from the story. Interactive Language Games: Convert traditional worksheets into interactive games. For example, a worksheet with pictures and words can be turned into a matching game where children match words to the correct pictures. Art and Craft Integration: Merge art with language learning by including coloring, drawing, or cutting activities related to the words or letters being learned. This approach not only reinforces the learning objective but also supports fine motor skill development. Use of Digital Platforms: Integrate technology by using a school parent app to share digital versions of English worksheets or interactive language games. This can also facilitate parental involvement in their child's learning process. Themes and Topics for English WorksheetsSelecting themes and topics relevant to the children's experiences and interests can significantly enhance engagement and learning outcomes.Daily Routines and Activities: Worksheets focusing on daily routines, such as meals, playtime, or getting ready for school, can help children relate their learning to their everyday life. Nature and Environment: Worksheets that explore the natural world, including animals, plants, and weather, can spark curiosity about the environment while building vocabulary. Festivals and Celebrations: Incorporating themes related to festivals, holidays, and celebrations introduces children to cultural diversity through language. Skills Development Through English WorksheetsEffective Pre school Nursery English Worksheets target a variety of skills that are fundamental to language acquisition and overall development.
Tips for Maximizing the Impact of English WorksheetsTailor Activities to Individual Needs: Customize worksheets to match the developmental level and interests of each child, ensuring that every learner finds the activities accessible and engaging.
ConclusionThe English Worksheet for Nursery Class serves as an essential tool in early childhood education, offering diverse opportunities for language development, creativity, and cognitive growth. By adopting a creative and interactive approach, educators can transform the use of worksheets from a mundane task to an exciting learning adventure. Incorporating themes, integrating technology through tools like the school parent app, and focusing on a holistic skill set are key strategies for making English worksheets a valuable component of the nursery curriculum. As we move forward, the imaginative use of worksheets will continue to play a crucial role in nurturing proficient, enthusiastic young learners. |
2024.05.21 14:36 adulting4kids Poetry Class Week 18-20
Week 19-20: Ghazal and Tanka Mastery
Day 1: Unveiling the Ghazal - Activity: Analyze classic ghazals for their structure and themes. - Lecture: Explore the historical and cultural context of ghazals. - Discussion: Share impressions and discuss the themes of love and longing in ghazals.
Day 2: Crafting the Ghazal Form - Activity: Break down the structure of a ghazal and discuss rhyme patterns. - Lecture: Explore the traditional themes and variations within ghazals. - Discussion: Discuss the challenges and beauty of writing within the constraints of a ghazal.
Day 3: Understanding Tanka - Activity: Analyze traditional tankas for their brevity and emotion. - Lecture: Explain the structure and cultural significance of tankas. - Discussion: Share thoughts on capturing a moment in five lines.
Day 4: Writing Exercise - Expressive Tanka - Activity: Write tankas individually, focusing on concise expression of emotion. - Assignment: Craft a ghazal exploring themes of love or longing. - Vocabulary Words: Matla, Radif, Wazn.
Day 5: Peer Review and Feedback - Activity: Peer review workshop for ghazals and tankas. - Lecture: Discuss the impact of repetition in ghazals and the art of brevity in tankas. - Discussion: Share insights gained from reviewing peers' work.
Study Guide Questions for Week 19-20: 1. What are the traditional themes of love and longing in ghazals? 2. Explore the structure of a ghazal, including the use of repeated words and rhyme patterns. 3. Discuss the cultural significance of tankas and their role in capturing fleeting moments. 4. How does the brevity of tankas contribute to their emotional impact? 5. Reflect on the challenges and rewards of crafting ghazals and tankas.
Quiz: Assessment on the understanding of ghazals, tankas, and the cultural context of these poetic forms.
Week 21-22: Cinquains and Pantoum Prowess
Day 1: Mastering Cinquains - Activity: Analyze classic cinquains for their simplicity and structure. - Lecture: Explore the syllabic pattern and thematic focus of cinquains. - Discussion: Share thoughts on capturing a subject in just five lines.
Day 2: Crafting Cinquains with Precision - Activity: Break down the process of crafting a cinquain. - Lecture: Discuss the importance of word choice and economy of language in cinquains. - Discussion: Share and discuss individual cinquains, highlighting successful elements.
Day 3: Embracing the Pantoum - Activity: Analyze a famous pantoum for its repetition and layered meaning. - Lecture: Explain the structure and narrative possibilities of pantoums. - Discussion: Discuss the role of repetition in creating a rhythmic flow.
Day 4: Writing Exercise - Developing a Pantoum - Activity: Craft a pantoum exploring a theme of personal growth or change. - Assignment: Write a cinquain on a chosen subject. - Vocabulary Words: Quatrain, Refrain, Syllabic Pattern.
Day 5: Peer Review and Feedback - Activity: Peer review workshop for cinquains and pantoums. - Lecture: Discuss the challenges and rewards of repetition in pantoums. - Discussion: Share insights gained from reviewing peers' work.
Study Guide Questions for Week 21-22: 1. Discuss the simplicity and structure of cinquains. How does their syllabic pattern contribute to their impact? 2. Explore the importance of word choice and economy of language in crafting cinquains. 3. What defines a pantoum, and how does repetition contribute to its rhythmic flow? 4. Discuss the narrative possibilities and layered meaning in pantoums. 5. Reflect on the process of crafting cinquains and pantoums. What challenges did you face?
Quiz: Assessment on cinquains, pantoums, and the effective use of repetition in poetry.
submitted by adulting4kids to writingthruit [link] [comments]
Day 1: Unveiling the Ghazal - Activity: Analyze classic ghazals for their structure and themes. - Lecture: Explore the historical and cultural context of ghazals. - Discussion: Share impressions and discuss the themes of love and longing in ghazals.
Day 2: Crafting the Ghazal Form - Activity: Break down the structure of a ghazal and discuss rhyme patterns. - Lecture: Explore the traditional themes and variations within ghazals. - Discussion: Discuss the challenges and beauty of writing within the constraints of a ghazal.
Day 3: Understanding Tanka - Activity: Analyze traditional tankas for their brevity and emotion. - Lecture: Explain the structure and cultural significance of tankas. - Discussion: Share thoughts on capturing a moment in five lines.
Day 4: Writing Exercise - Expressive Tanka - Activity: Write tankas individually, focusing on concise expression of emotion. - Assignment: Craft a ghazal exploring themes of love or longing. - Vocabulary Words: Matla, Radif, Wazn.
Day 5: Peer Review and Feedback - Activity: Peer review workshop for ghazals and tankas. - Lecture: Discuss the impact of repetition in ghazals and the art of brevity in tankas. - Discussion: Share insights gained from reviewing peers' work.
Study Guide Questions for Week 19-20: 1. What are the traditional themes of love and longing in ghazals? 2. Explore the structure of a ghazal, including the use of repeated words and rhyme patterns. 3. Discuss the cultural significance of tankas and their role in capturing fleeting moments. 4. How does the brevity of tankas contribute to their emotional impact? 5. Reflect on the challenges and rewards of crafting ghazals and tankas.
Quiz: Assessment on the understanding of ghazals, tankas, and the cultural context of these poetic forms.
Week 21-22: Cinquains and Pantoum Prowess
Day 1: Mastering Cinquains - Activity: Analyze classic cinquains for their simplicity and structure. - Lecture: Explore the syllabic pattern and thematic focus of cinquains. - Discussion: Share thoughts on capturing a subject in just five lines.
Day 2: Crafting Cinquains with Precision - Activity: Break down the process of crafting a cinquain. - Lecture: Discuss the importance of word choice and economy of language in cinquains. - Discussion: Share and discuss individual cinquains, highlighting successful elements.
Day 3: Embracing the Pantoum - Activity: Analyze a famous pantoum for its repetition and layered meaning. - Lecture: Explain the structure and narrative possibilities of pantoums. - Discussion: Discuss the role of repetition in creating a rhythmic flow.
Day 4: Writing Exercise - Developing a Pantoum - Activity: Craft a pantoum exploring a theme of personal growth or change. - Assignment: Write a cinquain on a chosen subject. - Vocabulary Words: Quatrain, Refrain, Syllabic Pattern.
Day 5: Peer Review and Feedback - Activity: Peer review workshop for cinquains and pantoums. - Lecture: Discuss the challenges and rewards of repetition in pantoums. - Discussion: Share insights gained from reviewing peers' work.
Study Guide Questions for Week 21-22: 1. Discuss the simplicity and structure of cinquains. How does their syllabic pattern contribute to their impact? 2. Explore the importance of word choice and economy of language in crafting cinquains. 3. What defines a pantoum, and how does repetition contribute to its rhythmic flow? 4. Discuss the narrative possibilities and layered meaning in pantoums. 5. Reflect on the process of crafting cinquains and pantoums. What challenges did you face?
Quiz: Assessment on cinquains, pantoums, and the effective use of repetition in poetry.
2024.05.21 14:29 adulting4kids Poetry Course Week Three and Four
Week 3: Limericks and the Art of Humor
Day 1: Decoding Limericks - Activity: Analyze classic limericks for rhythm and humor. - Lecture: Discuss the AABBA rhyme scheme and distinctive rhythm. - Discussion: Share favorite humorous poems and discuss elements that make them funny.
Day 2: Crafting Limericks with Wit - Activity: Write limericks individually, focusing on humor and rhythm. - Lecture: Explore the balance of humor and structure in limericks. - Discussion: Share and discuss individual limericks, highlighting successful elements.
Day 3: Understanding Free Verse - Activity: Analyze free verse poems for structure and expression. - Lecture: Introduce the concept of free verse and its flexibility. - Discussion: Discuss the liberation and challenges of writing without a strict structure.
Day 4: Writing Exercise - Expressing Emotions in Free Verse - Activity: Explore emotions and write a free verse poem. - Assignment: Craft a free verse poem exploring a personal experience or emotion. - Vocabulary Words: Enjambment, Cadence, Anapest.
Day 5: Peer Review and Feedback - Activity: Peer review workshop for free verse poems. - Lecture: Discuss the artistic freedom and impact of free verse. - Discussion: Share insights gained from reviewing peers' free verse poems.
Study Guide Questions for Week 3: 1. What defines a limerick, and how does its rhythm contribute to its humor? 2. Discuss the importance of the AABBA rhyme scheme in limericks. 3. How does free verse differ from structured forms of poetry? 4. Explore the challenges and benefits of writing without a strict form in free verse. 5. Reflect on the emotions and experiences expressed in your free verse poem.
Quiz: Assessment on limericks, the AABBA rhyme scheme, and the principles of free verse.
Week 4: Free Verse and Acrostic Poetry
Day 1: Embracing Free Verse - Activity: Analyze diverse free verse poems for individual expression. - Lecture: Discuss famous free verse poets and their impact on the genre. - Discussion: Share personal reactions to the artistic freedom of free verse.
Day 2: Crafting Emotion in Free Verse - Activity: Write a free verse poem expressing a specific emotion. - Lecture: Explore the role of emotions in free verse and the use of vivid imagery. - Discussion: Share and discuss individual poems, highlighting emotional impact.
Day 3: Understanding Acrostic Poetry - Activity: Analyze acrostic poems for clever wordplay. - Lecture: Explain the concept of acrostic poetry and its various forms. - Discussion: Share examples of creative acrostic poems.
Day 4: Writing Exercise - Personal Acrostic - Activity: Craft an acrostic poem using your name or a chosen word. - Assignment: Write an acrostic poem exploring a theme or concept. - Vocabulary Words: Strophe, Stanza, Consonance.
Day 5: Peer Review and Feedback - Activity: Peer review workshop for acrostic poems. - Lecture: Discuss the playfulness and creativity of acrostic poetry. - Discussion: Share insights gained from reviewing peers' acrostic poems.
Study Guide Questions for Week 4: 1. Explore the role of emotions in free verse poetry. How does it differ from structured forms? 2. Discuss the impact of vivid imagery in free verse. How does it contribute to the overall message? 3. What defines acrostic poetry, and how is it different from other forms? 4. How can clever wordplay enhance the impact of an acrostic poem? 5. Reflect on the creative process and thematic exploration in your acrostic poem.
Quiz: Assessment on understanding free verse, emotional expression in poetry, and the principles of acrostic poetry.
submitted by adulting4kids to writingthruit [link] [comments]
Day 1: Decoding Limericks - Activity: Analyze classic limericks for rhythm and humor. - Lecture: Discuss the AABBA rhyme scheme and distinctive rhythm. - Discussion: Share favorite humorous poems and discuss elements that make them funny.
Day 2: Crafting Limericks with Wit - Activity: Write limericks individually, focusing on humor and rhythm. - Lecture: Explore the balance of humor and structure in limericks. - Discussion: Share and discuss individual limericks, highlighting successful elements.
Day 3: Understanding Free Verse - Activity: Analyze free verse poems for structure and expression. - Lecture: Introduce the concept of free verse and its flexibility. - Discussion: Discuss the liberation and challenges of writing without a strict structure.
Day 4: Writing Exercise - Expressing Emotions in Free Verse - Activity: Explore emotions and write a free verse poem. - Assignment: Craft a free verse poem exploring a personal experience or emotion. - Vocabulary Words: Enjambment, Cadence, Anapest.
Day 5: Peer Review and Feedback - Activity: Peer review workshop for free verse poems. - Lecture: Discuss the artistic freedom and impact of free verse. - Discussion: Share insights gained from reviewing peers' free verse poems.
Study Guide Questions for Week 3: 1. What defines a limerick, and how does its rhythm contribute to its humor? 2. Discuss the importance of the AABBA rhyme scheme in limericks. 3. How does free verse differ from structured forms of poetry? 4. Explore the challenges and benefits of writing without a strict form in free verse. 5. Reflect on the emotions and experiences expressed in your free verse poem.
Quiz: Assessment on limericks, the AABBA rhyme scheme, and the principles of free verse.
Week 4: Free Verse and Acrostic Poetry
Day 1: Embracing Free Verse - Activity: Analyze diverse free verse poems for individual expression. - Lecture: Discuss famous free verse poets and their impact on the genre. - Discussion: Share personal reactions to the artistic freedom of free verse.
Day 2: Crafting Emotion in Free Verse - Activity: Write a free verse poem expressing a specific emotion. - Lecture: Explore the role of emotions in free verse and the use of vivid imagery. - Discussion: Share and discuss individual poems, highlighting emotional impact.
Day 3: Understanding Acrostic Poetry - Activity: Analyze acrostic poems for clever wordplay. - Lecture: Explain the concept of acrostic poetry and its various forms. - Discussion: Share examples of creative acrostic poems.
Day 4: Writing Exercise - Personal Acrostic - Activity: Craft an acrostic poem using your name or a chosen word. - Assignment: Write an acrostic poem exploring a theme or concept. - Vocabulary Words: Strophe, Stanza, Consonance.
Day 5: Peer Review and Feedback - Activity: Peer review workshop for acrostic poems. - Lecture: Discuss the playfulness and creativity of acrostic poetry. - Discussion: Share insights gained from reviewing peers' acrostic poems.
Study Guide Questions for Week 4: 1. Explore the role of emotions in free verse poetry. How does it differ from structured forms? 2. Discuss the impact of vivid imagery in free verse. How does it contribute to the overall message? 3. What defines acrostic poetry, and how is it different from other forms? 4. How can clever wordplay enhance the impact of an acrostic poem? 5. Reflect on the creative process and thematic exploration in your acrostic poem.
Quiz: Assessment on understanding free verse, emotional expression in poetry, and the principles of acrostic poetry.
2024.05.21 14:25 adulting4kids Poetry
- Parallelismus Membrorum:
- *Definition:* A rhetorical device where phrases or sentences are structured in parallel form. - *Example:* Create a poem using parallelismus membrorum to emphasize a profound truth or observation.
- Rubaiyat:
- *Definition:* A form of Persian poetry with quatrains and a specific rhyme scheme. - *Example:* Write a rubaiyat exploring the themes of love, mortality, or philosophical reflections.
- Blues Poem:
- *Definition:* Poetry inspired by the musical and emotional elements of blues music. - *Example:* Craft a blues poem expressing the struggles and resilience of everyday life.
- Erasure Poetry:
- *Definition:* Creating poetry by erasing or blacking out existing text, leaving only selected words visible. - *Example:* Create an erasure poem using a page from a newspaper or a novel, transforming it into a new narrative.
- Anaphora:
- *Definition:* A rhetorical device involving the repetition of a word or phrase at the beginning of successive clauses. - *Example:* Write a poem using anaphora to convey a sense of urgency or reflection.
- Tetractys:
- *Definition:* A five-line poem with a specific syllable count (1, 2, 3, 4, 10). - *Example:* Craft a tetractys exploring the stages of personal growth or a transformative experience.
- Sijo:
- *Definition:* A traditional Korean poetic form with three lines, each with fourteen to sixteen syllables. - *Example:* Write a sijo capturing a moment of beauty or introspection.
- Blitz Poem:
- *Definition:* A form of poetry with a rapid, stream-of-consciousness style and repetition. - *Example:* Create a blitz poem exploring the chaos and beauty of urban life.
- Epitaph:
- *Definition:* A short inscription on a tombstone or a commemorative poem for the deceased. - *Example:* Write an epitaph honoring a fictional or historical figure with a poignant message.
- Prothalamion:
- *Definition:* A poem celebrating a forthcoming marriage or wedding. - *Example:* Craft a prothalamion capturing the anticipation and joy surrounding a wedding day.
2024.05.21 10:35 Lena_Zelena Looking for inspirations for a name change
Hello name nerds, I am a trans woman in her 30s and I will soon initiate a process of legally changing my gender. As part of the process I have the opportunity to also change my name with no additional costs or requirements which is quite nice.
I am Croatian but I have been living in Ireland for the past 6 years. I have no particular attachment to my current legal name and surname. I am 99.9% set on putting Lena as my first name which I have been using for the last few years. There isn't really a particular reason why I chose name Lena for myself, I just liked the sound of it when a friend suggested it. I want to put more thought into picking a middle and last names so looking for inspirations here. Also, I have a partner (nonbinary/woman, Irish) who I will marry one day. She has no particular attachment to their last name either so we are thinking of a surname that they would take as their own when we get married.
I am looking for names that are either in Croatian, Irish or English. I am not really looking at traditional or typical names. Rather, I am looking for a name that represents something I like, something potentially cool, beautiful or a little bit silly.
Names I have been or am currently considering:
"Universe" as last name. I know, some might say it sounds cringe but in my mind there is nothing else as vast, beautiful and terrifying as the universe itself. Main reason I won't proceed with it is because my partner doesn't like it as much. She did suggest an alternative last name "Verse", so that would be Lena Verse.
In a similar vein, I like the name "Svemir" as either middle or last name. Svemir is a Croatian word for universe and is composed of words for "all" and "peace". The ending -mir is used in a lot of old and traditional Croatian names but funnily enough the name Svemir is not common at all. The main issue with this name is that the name is distinctively male. Could still work nicely as last name though or I can ignore the fact it sounds male in Croatian since nobody in Ireland will make that connection and really... the name is cool as hell.
I have also thought about names such as "Vila" and "Sidhe", pronounced as [ˈviːla] and [iːsˠ ˈʃiː], which are Croatian and Irish words for a fairy. I just thought both of them sound nice (also fairies are cool) and there is an interesting coincidence that Sidhe is pronounced as "she" which, in the context of me be being a trans woman using she/her pronouns in English language... is kinda funny.
Another motif I like is colour green. My reddit name is Lena Zelena which I chose because it rhymes but also because zelena is a Croatian word for colour green. My partner suggested a last name "Viridian", which happens to be her favorite shade of green. I thought it sounds quite beautiful. I am also considering Zelena as my middle name in case I don't go with green motif as my last name.
And last, when my partner asked me about any names in the family that I like I remembered my late grandmother, the person I loved the most in this world. Her name was "Jela" which is Croatian word for a fir tree. Following that inspiration we have reached last name "Evergreen" which is currently my top pick for a last name.
I am interested to hear what does the name nerd community thinks of these names or if you have some suggestions that could inspire me further. I have been casually thinking about names for a long time but now that I am finally having my birth certificate translated I will start the legal process so I have been thinking about this more seriously.
submitted by Lena_Zelena to namenerds [link] [comments]
I am Croatian but I have been living in Ireland for the past 6 years. I have no particular attachment to my current legal name and surname. I am 99.9% set on putting Lena as my first name which I have been using for the last few years. There isn't really a particular reason why I chose name Lena for myself, I just liked the sound of it when a friend suggested it. I want to put more thought into picking a middle and last names so looking for inspirations here. Also, I have a partner (nonbinary/woman, Irish) who I will marry one day. She has no particular attachment to their last name either so we are thinking of a surname that they would take as their own when we get married.
I am looking for names that are either in Croatian, Irish or English. I am not really looking at traditional or typical names. Rather, I am looking for a name that represents something I like, something potentially cool, beautiful or a little bit silly.
Names I have been or am currently considering:
"Universe" as last name. I know, some might say it sounds cringe but in my mind there is nothing else as vast, beautiful and terrifying as the universe itself. Main reason I won't proceed with it is because my partner doesn't like it as much. She did suggest an alternative last name "Verse", so that would be Lena Verse.
In a similar vein, I like the name "Svemir" as either middle or last name. Svemir is a Croatian word for universe and is composed of words for "all" and "peace". The ending -mir is used in a lot of old and traditional Croatian names but funnily enough the name Svemir is not common at all. The main issue with this name is that the name is distinctively male. Could still work nicely as last name though or I can ignore the fact it sounds male in Croatian since nobody in Ireland will make that connection and really... the name is cool as hell.
I have also thought about names such as "Vila" and "Sidhe", pronounced as [ˈviːla] and [iːsˠ ˈʃiː], which are Croatian and Irish words for a fairy. I just thought both of them sound nice (also fairies are cool) and there is an interesting coincidence that Sidhe is pronounced as "she" which, in the context of me be being a trans woman using she/her pronouns in English language... is kinda funny.
Another motif I like is colour green. My reddit name is Lena Zelena which I chose because it rhymes but also because zelena is a Croatian word for colour green. My partner suggested a last name "Viridian", which happens to be her favorite shade of green. I thought it sounds quite beautiful. I am also considering Zelena as my middle name in case I don't go with green motif as my last name.
And last, when my partner asked me about any names in the family that I like I remembered my late grandmother, the person I loved the most in this world. Her name was "Jela" which is Croatian word for a fir tree. Following that inspiration we have reached last name "Evergreen" which is currently my top pick for a last name.
I am interested to hear what does the name nerd community thinks of these names or if you have some suggestions that could inspire me further. I have been casually thinking about names for a long time but now that I am finally having my birth certificate translated I will start the legal process so I have been thinking about this more seriously.
2024.05.21 08:27 Unkn0wnimous [No Due Date] Looking to get some feedback on the first chapter of the story I made after posting the prologue here. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 1
Mors
An endless void, silence interlaid with its pitch-darkness, greeted an injured man. No light can be seen, sensations be damned, and consciousness spread thin as though taut in this incomprehensive expanse that laid before him.
Callum fell into the abyss, his mind the only thing left to accompany him. He hasn’t even counted the minutes as his mind is plagued by something else. He never considered himself a man of interest, only scraping by with his odd jobs and part-time salaries, hence why he couldn’t understand his current situation.
Betrayal is something that he is familiar with, whether it be a betrayal of his expectations when a co-worker broke his promise or a betrayal of his emotions when his first love interest cheated on him back in uni. However, this betrayal orchestrated by his best friend whom he’d known for 5 years, and girlfriend for 8 years felt more gut-wrenching than the pain he felt from the stab.
Denial was the first thing that stormed his mind. He couldn’t believe that the two closest people in his life would stab him in the back, literally. There was no build-up, he didn’t suspect a thing, and everything was normal until he found steel in his flesh.
He rejected the notion that his girlfriend, Catherine, would betray him like this, an accomplice to a murder that he can’t grasp the motive of. He has built up some savings, but it isn’t something that would be worth murdering someone for, especially after buying that ring.
He dismissed the thought of Jake being jealous of their relationship as he couldn’t see the guy doing something as stupid as this. He can’t form any rhyme or reason as to why they would do it, and the only possible explanation is that this was all a dream and he was actually still sleeping inside the tent.
But as he waited for himself to wake from this nightmare, only darkness greeted him. He had tried moving his body in this sea of blackness, but the movement only felt like going through molasses with tired arms, which is why he attributed this as being only a dream that he would wake up from, which appeared to be wrong as he waited and waited.
Anxiety crept in as he tried to call out, but no sound escaped his lips. He strained his voice to be heard, yet he can't even hear himself. No light adorned this place, no wind to be heard, and he couldn’t feel anything even though he tried feeling himself.
The pain in his back was forgotten as he tried and tried to move, to scream, to flail senselessly, amounting to nothing as he was greeted by nothing.
Feeling anything in this void is something impossible, and the only thing that he can do is return to his mindscape.
He went back to his oldest memories, back to a time when everything felt oppressive and suffocating. Callum was born into a broken family. His mother and father had gone through a divorce when he was only 6 years old. He could still remember the screaming and yelling of his parents whenever night fell in their sorry state of an apartment.
His father, Eric, having not finished his education after Callum’s birth, has been living as a blue-collar worker in downtown New Jersey. Even during his day-offs, he can’t seem to find rest as he goes to do odd jobs and part-time work to stay afloat. On the other hand, his mother would leave him, a toddler, alone in the apartment.
He remembered her putting CDs in a DVD player so that it could keep his attention on a cartoon that his father introduced him to. If he had anything to describe his mother, she would be irresponsible and narcissistic. She would sometimes bring guys over to their apartment, threatening Callum with divorce if he ever told Eric about it, hence why it took several years until his dad caught on and filed for a divorce.
Eric was determined to take Callum with him, he argues that he could take care of his child better than Callum’s mother. But his mother and her twisted pride can’t let go of Callum, which leads to a legal dispute between the two.
The court hearings went on for several months, with each passing day being a lot more hellish for Callum. He was subjected to further insults by his mother as she knew that leaving bruises on her child would lower her chances of winning over the court to her side. Sometimes, she would go as far as manipulate him, gaslighting him into believing that she was a good mother who would take care of him better than his father. But after seeing that the court favors Eric’s side more, his mother took drastic measures to satisfy her wounded pride.
It was the second to the last day of the court hearing, and it was during this time that his father was working overtime. Callum had just gone home from his elementary school, feeling tired as he hauled his bag over his shoulders up the multiple flights of stairs he had to climb to get to their apartment.
As he neared his home, he steeled himself and opened the door, only to be met with overturned tables and broken ceramics. He walked quietly through the scene, afraid that someone might hear him entering his home. Looking back on it now, Calum can’t help himself but laugh at his stupidity. He could have gone and alerted their neighbors, or gone back downstairs to wait for his father, but being a child, Callum doesn’t know what to do.
As he entered his room, he saw black words spray painted on the walls, the meaning eluding him as he didn’t know what it meant since he was 7 at the time, but remembering it now sent shivers down his spine.
The words “This is what you get!” on a torn wallpaper are ingrained in his mind. Seeing the manic letters sprayed over the walls gave Callum anxiety, taking a few steps back towards the open front door of their apartment. Escape was now on his mind as he grew scared of what was to come, something that was far too late as he heard his mother behind him.
It was there that everything turned into a blur. He remembered snippets of yelling and crying both from himself and his mother. He remembered his mother forcing something down his throat. He remembered his father coming home early that day and restraining his mother, a crazy look in her eyes. He remembered the feeling of nausea and the floor colored with his lunch. And he remembered the sirens, red and blue lights dancing in his vision as he was carried to a stretcher. The last thing he remembered was his father crying, holding his hands tightly when he opened his tired eyes.
For the next few days, he learned from the news that his mother attempted a double suicide. The story goes, after losing the custody battle, the mother planned to take revenge by ending the lives of both her child and herself. They said that he got lucky as the neighbors had contacted Eric when his mother turned their home upside down, relating it to a possible home invasion. If not for him, Callum would have died from nicotine poisoning after his mother forced tobacco down his gullet, a morbid story that he uses as a joke during his time at work.
He remembered being inside that hospital for days on end, his body recovering from the poison his mother left him with, and his father was there almost every day even though he had to work to pay the hospital bills. After what felt like forever was he allowed to be discharged, going back to the same refurbished apartment that they lived in, but after seeing how Callum had recurring nightmares and trauma attached to the place, they decided to move to Pennsylvania. A hard decision that needed to be made as his father would put it.
Everything after the whole incident was better for Callum. His father got a job as a mover, still doing some part-time work here and there, and Callum did his best in school so as not to burden his father with more work. Even though they lived in a rundown shack handed to them by one of the locals, they didn’t mind as they knew that getting to live at all was better than what they had before.
Callum smiled in the abyss as he reminisced about his time with his father. He was a great man, a good role model for anyone who came across him. He is kind-hearted and considerate, a hard worker that makes him popular among his peers. It was them that helped move him and his father out of New Jersey and found them a place to sleep in, teaching Callum that socializing and connecting with like-minded people goes a long way when someone needs it.
For the next few years, Callum lived happily. Though there were some ups and downs, he and his father got through it, which is why the memory of his time in university was depressing.
Eric, after having saved some money, gave Callum the go-ahead to enroll in a university in California. But after attaining an athletic scholarship in football, Callum gave his father a surprise to ease his worries and stress. Callum felt bad every time he saw his father work, hence why he tried his hardest to take some of that workload to give him a break. With the tuition being lowered with the scholarship, Callum could give the rest of the money back to his dad. A gesture that was fully gratified as his father had a hard time letting him go when the time came to move over to the university. But it was during this time that tragedy struck.
It was his fourth year in studying anthropology when he heard the news from one of his father’s friends, Robby. After hearing it, he grew distressed and worried, taking a lot of convincing from Robby to keep Callum from moving back to Pennsylvania.
His father has gone missing. The news had spread amongst his co-workers and friends, and a search team was already being dispatched to find him. Even though Callum tried to keep his focus on studying, he couldn’t help but feel agitated as days went by without news of his father being seen. His mental state plummeted, and he grew withdrawn from reality as days turned to weeks, his father still gone.
He could still remember the times when he locked himself in the school’s library, searching the web to find any news or reports of his father's whereabouts, but as he searched for days on end, only one thing kept popping up from the newsletters. His father, Eric Hurst Foster, went missing in his own home. There were no struggles in the house, the CCTV didn’t see him on any of the roads or stores in the town they lived in, he just seemed to have vanished into thin air.
The news ate away at Callum, and his friends that he’d made during the time gave their support to keep him from spiraling out of control. However, even with their support, Callum’s worries over his dad never went away, hence why he threw himself into work. Going to part-time jobs and studying is the only way to keep his mind from blowing. He did this until he finished university and found a job to stay afloat.
This went on for years until he’s come to accept that his father may never be found. With nothing to ground him in their old home, he decided to explore the world, thinking that one day, he might find a lead to the whereabouts of his dad.
Months turned to years as he worked tirelessly in multiple jobs. From being a mechanic, electrician, cook, waiter, and many more to count, Callum went on a work frenzy. He made a plan to scour the states as a freelancer, living in his BMW pick-up truck that was given to him by one of his friends. He stayed in each state for a few months, meeting new people and making some friends along the way. They sent their well wishes to Callum as they knew that he was still trying to find his missing father.
Years went by as he made his way back to California. He had gone and explored every state, and yet no news of his father came to light. The case had gone cold, and it was up to Callum to find any clues to this mystery. His mind has told him to give up the search, and multiple friends have given him consolation as they knew that his father would never be found, but Callum persevered.
It was during this time that he found himself as a mover, the same job that his father had before he disappeared. He had just come back to California after getting the job, and he was about to go check in for his first day when a sudden downpour of rain covered the skies of the city. It was only coincidental that he was near that coffee shop, and it was coincidental that only two customers were present there. He and his future girlfriend turned accomplice to his murder.
The rest of his memories went by as he continued to float in the abyss. From the time of their first years in a relationship to meeting Jake for the first time in that apartment to when he taught PE and History in a school in Minnesota. Everything went by as Callum went from one memory to another until he felt something.
A chill ran down his spine as an indescribable dread manifested in his mind. He knew not why he felt this way, and he felt himself tearing at the seams as a slit of light showed itself in the void. He was then pulled into the light, senses coming back after he spent his time in the abyss for what felt like days. And with a flash, he is back in the same hunched-over position he was in when he was stabbed in the back.
Callum can’t help but laugh as he finally could see again. Trees surrounded his vision, with wild grass carpeting the ground. But before he could truly see the world, he felt a sharp pain in his back. With his body remembering that he was injured, he felt himself sweat profusely as he bled, painting the flowers under him red. And yet he didn’t panic.
After all that time reminiscing, he finally gave in and let death come to him. He fell on his back, sending another wave of pain coursing through his body, cursing under his breath as he regretted not laying himself down slowly. And as he looked to the sky, he felt himself getting colder and colder.
Callum felt at peace as he stared at the clouds above him. The sound of the wind and the rustling of leaves helped him come to terms that he was truly dying. He’d thought about death a lot. During his time when he was a kid, and when he was depressed after his father went missing. But the peace he felt for only a few moments as emotions came crashing down.
He felt himself tear up as he came to terms with his current situation. He would never have a chance to marry the girl in his life. He would never have a chance to have his own children and see them grow. He would never have a chance to be a father. And he would never have a chance to grow old with the people he loved around him.
As he thought of these things, the floodgates opened. Streams of tears fell down his cheeks as he sobbed in his dying state. He could only put his hands over his eyes to stop it from flowing, an action that felt challenging as his body became fatigued from all the blood loss. The crying only hastened his death as he felt his breath escape him, his lungs labored and filled with blood as the stab had punctured it.
Minutes went by as Callum felt himself grow tired and tired. And as he closed his eyes, Callum’s heart slowed and slowed as his body has a lack of blood to pump. His breathing grew shallower with each second until his body gave way and stopped altogether.
Callum died at the age of 34, stabbed in the back by his best friend with his girlfriend being an accomplice for his murder. He died from blood loss as his body colored the ground red.
Callum waited and waited to feel his consciousness fade as he welcomed death to greet him. And as the second grew…
'…Wait.'
His consciousness never faded away.
submitted by Unkn0wnimous to Proofreading [link] [comments]
Mors
An endless void, silence interlaid with its pitch-darkness, greeted an injured man. No light can be seen, sensations be damned, and consciousness spread thin as though taut in this incomprehensive expanse that laid before him.
Callum fell into the abyss, his mind the only thing left to accompany him. He hasn’t even counted the minutes as his mind is plagued by something else. He never considered himself a man of interest, only scraping by with his odd jobs and part-time salaries, hence why he couldn’t understand his current situation.
Betrayal is something that he is familiar with, whether it be a betrayal of his expectations when a co-worker broke his promise or a betrayal of his emotions when his first love interest cheated on him back in uni. However, this betrayal orchestrated by his best friend whom he’d known for 5 years, and girlfriend for 8 years felt more gut-wrenching than the pain he felt from the stab.
Denial was the first thing that stormed his mind. He couldn’t believe that the two closest people in his life would stab him in the back, literally. There was no build-up, he didn’t suspect a thing, and everything was normal until he found steel in his flesh.
He rejected the notion that his girlfriend, Catherine, would betray him like this, an accomplice to a murder that he can’t grasp the motive of. He has built up some savings, but it isn’t something that would be worth murdering someone for, especially after buying that ring.
He dismissed the thought of Jake being jealous of their relationship as he couldn’t see the guy doing something as stupid as this. He can’t form any rhyme or reason as to why they would do it, and the only possible explanation is that this was all a dream and he was actually still sleeping inside the tent.
But as he waited for himself to wake from this nightmare, only darkness greeted him. He had tried moving his body in this sea of blackness, but the movement only felt like going through molasses with tired arms, which is why he attributed this as being only a dream that he would wake up from, which appeared to be wrong as he waited and waited.
Anxiety crept in as he tried to call out, but no sound escaped his lips. He strained his voice to be heard, yet he can't even hear himself. No light adorned this place, no wind to be heard, and he couldn’t feel anything even though he tried feeling himself.
The pain in his back was forgotten as he tried and tried to move, to scream, to flail senselessly, amounting to nothing as he was greeted by nothing.
Feeling anything in this void is something impossible, and the only thing that he can do is return to his mindscape.
He went back to his oldest memories, back to a time when everything felt oppressive and suffocating. Callum was born into a broken family. His mother and father had gone through a divorce when he was only 6 years old. He could still remember the screaming and yelling of his parents whenever night fell in their sorry state of an apartment.
His father, Eric, having not finished his education after Callum’s birth, has been living as a blue-collar worker in downtown New Jersey. Even during his day-offs, he can’t seem to find rest as he goes to do odd jobs and part-time work to stay afloat. On the other hand, his mother would leave him, a toddler, alone in the apartment.
He remembered her putting CDs in a DVD player so that it could keep his attention on a cartoon that his father introduced him to. If he had anything to describe his mother, she would be irresponsible and narcissistic. She would sometimes bring guys over to their apartment, threatening Callum with divorce if he ever told Eric about it, hence why it took several years until his dad caught on and filed for a divorce.
Eric was determined to take Callum with him, he argues that he could take care of his child better than Callum’s mother. But his mother and her twisted pride can’t let go of Callum, which leads to a legal dispute between the two.
The court hearings went on for several months, with each passing day being a lot more hellish for Callum. He was subjected to further insults by his mother as she knew that leaving bruises on her child would lower her chances of winning over the court to her side. Sometimes, she would go as far as manipulate him, gaslighting him into believing that she was a good mother who would take care of him better than his father. But after seeing that the court favors Eric’s side more, his mother took drastic measures to satisfy her wounded pride.
It was the second to the last day of the court hearing, and it was during this time that his father was working overtime. Callum had just gone home from his elementary school, feeling tired as he hauled his bag over his shoulders up the multiple flights of stairs he had to climb to get to their apartment.
As he neared his home, he steeled himself and opened the door, only to be met with overturned tables and broken ceramics. He walked quietly through the scene, afraid that someone might hear him entering his home. Looking back on it now, Calum can’t help himself but laugh at his stupidity. He could have gone and alerted their neighbors, or gone back downstairs to wait for his father, but being a child, Callum doesn’t know what to do.
As he entered his room, he saw black words spray painted on the walls, the meaning eluding him as he didn’t know what it meant since he was 7 at the time, but remembering it now sent shivers down his spine.
The words “This is what you get!” on a torn wallpaper are ingrained in his mind. Seeing the manic letters sprayed over the walls gave Callum anxiety, taking a few steps back towards the open front door of their apartment. Escape was now on his mind as he grew scared of what was to come, something that was far too late as he heard his mother behind him.
It was there that everything turned into a blur. He remembered snippets of yelling and crying both from himself and his mother. He remembered his mother forcing something down his throat. He remembered his father coming home early that day and restraining his mother, a crazy look in her eyes. He remembered the feeling of nausea and the floor colored with his lunch. And he remembered the sirens, red and blue lights dancing in his vision as he was carried to a stretcher. The last thing he remembered was his father crying, holding his hands tightly when he opened his tired eyes.
For the next few days, he learned from the news that his mother attempted a double suicide. The story goes, after losing the custody battle, the mother planned to take revenge by ending the lives of both her child and herself. They said that he got lucky as the neighbors had contacted Eric when his mother turned their home upside down, relating it to a possible home invasion. If not for him, Callum would have died from nicotine poisoning after his mother forced tobacco down his gullet, a morbid story that he uses as a joke during his time at work.
He remembered being inside that hospital for days on end, his body recovering from the poison his mother left him with, and his father was there almost every day even though he had to work to pay the hospital bills. After what felt like forever was he allowed to be discharged, going back to the same refurbished apartment that they lived in, but after seeing how Callum had recurring nightmares and trauma attached to the place, they decided to move to Pennsylvania. A hard decision that needed to be made as his father would put it.
Everything after the whole incident was better for Callum. His father got a job as a mover, still doing some part-time work here and there, and Callum did his best in school so as not to burden his father with more work. Even though they lived in a rundown shack handed to them by one of the locals, they didn’t mind as they knew that getting to live at all was better than what they had before.
Callum smiled in the abyss as he reminisced about his time with his father. He was a great man, a good role model for anyone who came across him. He is kind-hearted and considerate, a hard worker that makes him popular among his peers. It was them that helped move him and his father out of New Jersey and found them a place to sleep in, teaching Callum that socializing and connecting with like-minded people goes a long way when someone needs it.
For the next few years, Callum lived happily. Though there were some ups and downs, he and his father got through it, which is why the memory of his time in university was depressing.
Eric, after having saved some money, gave Callum the go-ahead to enroll in a university in California. But after attaining an athletic scholarship in football, Callum gave his father a surprise to ease his worries and stress. Callum felt bad every time he saw his father work, hence why he tried his hardest to take some of that workload to give him a break. With the tuition being lowered with the scholarship, Callum could give the rest of the money back to his dad. A gesture that was fully gratified as his father had a hard time letting him go when the time came to move over to the university. But it was during this time that tragedy struck.
It was his fourth year in studying anthropology when he heard the news from one of his father’s friends, Robby. After hearing it, he grew distressed and worried, taking a lot of convincing from Robby to keep Callum from moving back to Pennsylvania.
His father has gone missing. The news had spread amongst his co-workers and friends, and a search team was already being dispatched to find him. Even though Callum tried to keep his focus on studying, he couldn’t help but feel agitated as days went by without news of his father being seen. His mental state plummeted, and he grew withdrawn from reality as days turned to weeks, his father still gone.
He could still remember the times when he locked himself in the school’s library, searching the web to find any news or reports of his father's whereabouts, but as he searched for days on end, only one thing kept popping up from the newsletters. His father, Eric Hurst Foster, went missing in his own home. There were no struggles in the house, the CCTV didn’t see him on any of the roads or stores in the town they lived in, he just seemed to have vanished into thin air.
The news ate away at Callum, and his friends that he’d made during the time gave their support to keep him from spiraling out of control. However, even with their support, Callum’s worries over his dad never went away, hence why he threw himself into work. Going to part-time jobs and studying is the only way to keep his mind from blowing. He did this until he finished university and found a job to stay afloat.
This went on for years until he’s come to accept that his father may never be found. With nothing to ground him in their old home, he decided to explore the world, thinking that one day, he might find a lead to the whereabouts of his dad.
Months turned to years as he worked tirelessly in multiple jobs. From being a mechanic, electrician, cook, waiter, and many more to count, Callum went on a work frenzy. He made a plan to scour the states as a freelancer, living in his BMW pick-up truck that was given to him by one of his friends. He stayed in each state for a few months, meeting new people and making some friends along the way. They sent their well wishes to Callum as they knew that he was still trying to find his missing father.
Years went by as he made his way back to California. He had gone and explored every state, and yet no news of his father came to light. The case had gone cold, and it was up to Callum to find any clues to this mystery. His mind has told him to give up the search, and multiple friends have given him consolation as they knew that his father would never be found, but Callum persevered.
It was during this time that he found himself as a mover, the same job that his father had before he disappeared. He had just come back to California after getting the job, and he was about to go check in for his first day when a sudden downpour of rain covered the skies of the city. It was only coincidental that he was near that coffee shop, and it was coincidental that only two customers were present there. He and his future girlfriend turned accomplice to his murder.
The rest of his memories went by as he continued to float in the abyss. From the time of their first years in a relationship to meeting Jake for the first time in that apartment to when he taught PE and History in a school in Minnesota. Everything went by as Callum went from one memory to another until he felt something.
A chill ran down his spine as an indescribable dread manifested in his mind. He knew not why he felt this way, and he felt himself tearing at the seams as a slit of light showed itself in the void. He was then pulled into the light, senses coming back after he spent his time in the abyss for what felt like days. And with a flash, he is back in the same hunched-over position he was in when he was stabbed in the back.
Callum can’t help but laugh as he finally could see again. Trees surrounded his vision, with wild grass carpeting the ground. But before he could truly see the world, he felt a sharp pain in his back. With his body remembering that he was injured, he felt himself sweat profusely as he bled, painting the flowers under him red. And yet he didn’t panic.
After all that time reminiscing, he finally gave in and let death come to him. He fell on his back, sending another wave of pain coursing through his body, cursing under his breath as he regretted not laying himself down slowly. And as he looked to the sky, he felt himself getting colder and colder.
Callum felt at peace as he stared at the clouds above him. The sound of the wind and the rustling of leaves helped him come to terms that he was truly dying. He’d thought about death a lot. During his time when he was a kid, and when he was depressed after his father went missing. But the peace he felt for only a few moments as emotions came crashing down.
He felt himself tear up as he came to terms with his current situation. He would never have a chance to marry the girl in his life. He would never have a chance to have his own children and see them grow. He would never have a chance to be a father. And he would never have a chance to grow old with the people he loved around him.
As he thought of these things, the floodgates opened. Streams of tears fell down his cheeks as he sobbed in his dying state. He could only put his hands over his eyes to stop it from flowing, an action that felt challenging as his body became fatigued from all the blood loss. The crying only hastened his death as he felt his breath escape him, his lungs labored and filled with blood as the stab had punctured it.
Minutes went by as Callum felt himself grow tired and tired. And as he closed his eyes, Callum’s heart slowed and slowed as his body has a lack of blood to pump. His breathing grew shallower with each second until his body gave way and stopped altogether.
Callum died at the age of 34, stabbed in the back by his best friend with his girlfriend being an accomplice for his murder. He died from blood loss as his body colored the ground red.
Callum waited and waited to feel his consciousness fade as he welcomed death to greet him. And as the second grew…
'…Wait.'
His consciousness never faded away.
2024.05.21 07:28 biblibopbop Do you cringe at your own poems?
I like poetry and making poems. I like how the words sounds when they rhyme, I like how you can feel so much emotions with just a handful of words.
I want to show it to the world and friends but at the same time I cringe at it sooner or later and I just cringe and get embarrassed if people see it. Because honestly, my poems are something you won’t expect from me.
Do you feel the same?
submitted by biblibopbop to Poem [link] [comments]
I want to show it to the world and friends but at the same time I cringe at it sooner or later and I just cringe and get embarrassed if people see it. Because honestly, my poems are something you won’t expect from me.
Do you feel the same?
2024.05.21 07:06 No_Marzipan_1230 Industrial Mage Chapter 04 – First Blood
Synopsis:
An engineer in another world—blending science and magic to achieve greatness in a world where skills and levels reign supreme.
—
Ethan was just a plain old engineer, but everything changed when he was reborn into a world of skills, levels, and magic. With his advanced knowledge far ahead of the time period he finds himself in, this new reincarnated life will be much different than his last, especially because he can construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct runes—something no one else can do.
But with royal politics, looming tax collectors, a mountain of debt, dungeon incursions, cults, and hostile fantasy races mixing together into a cocktail of bullshit that threatens to bury his dreams; Ethan must bridge the gap between steel and sorcery to grow stronger. — Runecrafting is slow burn. — What to Expect: - Weak to very strong progression - Hardcore wish fulfillment - A balance of action, kingdom building, and runecrafting. - MC will trigger an industrial revolution, revolutionize magic, modernize agriculture, communication, commerce, textile production, education, transportation, sanitation, weapons manufacturing, leisure & entertainment, and medicine.
First < Previous Next >
Ethan's heart thumped in his throat as he looked at the arrow's head glinting. Fortunately, Roland had grabbed it in an instant. The arrow hadn't hit Ethan, and it likely wouldn't have. Roland threw the arrow aside as Ethan heard a muffled grunt and glanced out the window to the right. An arrow had pierced the side of their driver, right between the shoulder and chest. Ethan whipped back into his seat just as another projectile smashed against the other side of their carriage, denting it. Roland immediately stood up with a calm demeanor and unsheathed his sword. "Lord Theodore, please remain seated. This inconvenience will be dealt with shortly."
Ethan blinked up, nodded, and clasped his hands around his knee while resting his head against the window ledge as Roland got out. Situations such as this weren't anything he'd ever dealt with back on earth, but he had plenty of experience keeping himself in check when fear took hold. He'd been a boxer, after all. Ethan tapped his finger on his knee, again and again.
"Die, you shits!" a voice yelled, then a meaty crash was followed by a pained groan. It was clearly someone falling over. Moments later, footsteps approached from the other side. A man swung the carriage door open. "Get—"
Before he could say much else, a sword pierced through his chest. He slumped and hit the ground without a word, revealing Roland standing with a blank expression. His eyes were different than anything Ethan had seen since his transmigration—Roland looked nonchalant even after taking a life, which was understandable given that the man had likely taken a lot of lives. Ethan closed his eyes, refusing to look at the dead body.
More footsteps grew nearer. Two sets. They stopped beside their carriage. "Well fuck, what a piece of trash." one man said, then lurched at Roland with a bloody shout.
The fight was over in an instant.
Roland simply disappeared from his position before Ethan. Reappearing behind the two bandits flanking him, he delivered an equally lethal strike to each in turn. Simultaneously, a sharp crackling and whooshing sound made Ethan tense. Spreading out on the floor before the carriage, a dark blue magical glyph buzzed like electricity, sending sparks of electricity slamming into the bandits.
Then, the bandits' bodies split in two halves, their blood sprayed across the dirt before they even began collapsing with electricity sizzling on their bodies.
Just as he'd felt movement in the air through [Magic Perception], a man materialized right in front of Ethan. Tensing, Ethan didn't know what to do
Roland shouted from outside. Adrenaline rocketed through Ethan's veins. Hand moving, he grabbed the bandit's hand and twisted it. The bandit tackled him, and with the tight space, Ethan felt the tip of a knife nicking the side of his cheek. The wound stung badly, and with it, Ethan's mind blanked and his instincts kicked in.
Roland swiftly spun, but not in time to stop the man from pinning Ethan against the bench.
However, it wasn't needed. Ethan used [Elemental Spells] and summoned fire all over his palms. A sizzling sound erupted as the bandit cried out and went for Ethan's eyes with his free hand. Ethan bit the bandit's hand, and only got half a mouthful of skin and cloth. The bandit reeled back and leapt backward from the sudden burning pain, crying out as he crashed. Ethan lunged at him, grabbed and force-flipped the bandit's hand, and plunged the knife into his throat with an aggressive grunt. There was a short, gurgled cry, before the bandit tried swinging the knife towards him. "Cunt... bastard..." his bloody mouth formed the words, his eyes staring fearfully, but Ethan pushed the knife aggressively.
Blood sprayed and gushed onto Ethan's mouth.
Then, finally, the man stilled.
The corpse's weight fell onto Ethan, hot blood spilling out of the bandit's throat and filling the air with an acrid odor. Ethan felt it on his face. Hot. Metallic smell. He saw it dripping down the bandit's throat, all across his clothes, even in his hair. It was heavy, almost. Layer upon layer, the heavy cloak of the man's life weighting down on his spirit.
System notifications flashed but he ignored it given that bile rose in Ethan's throat. His vision darkened, and a rush of blood roared in his ear as his heart thumped like thunder. A violent urge to vomit rose within him, his entire body twitching. He had never seen a man die in front of him like this before. Disgusting as it was, he gulped everything down, even the reality he had found himself in, the death, the violence, it all set in at that moment. However, he had no time to delve on it. Even though he felt like someone had squeezed his windpipe, like a bullet was tearing through his skin, he needed to act. Now.
Ethan flipped the man aside and sat on his knees, pulling out the knife from the bandit's neck. From his place on the ground, he glanced at Roland engaged with three bandits.
One slipped past Roland and made it to Ethan. They're trying to get a hand on me. Why? The answer was simple. Oh, right... I'm a noble, they can just put a knife on my throat and demand shit...
Instead of giving the bandit the upper hand, Ethan took a breath. Once. Twice. Now or never, thinking so, he raised the knife and dove headfirst toward the approaching enemy. Caught by surprise, the bandit merely moved his free hand to counter attack. His fingers grasping the bandit's arm, he twisted it away, giving him room to go straight for the eye.
With a meaty sound, Ethan plunged the knife through the man's eyes. Blood spurted with a slick sound. The bandit wasn't fast enough to make a full reaction, as a sort of instinctive scream of terror got stuck halfway and died out. Then, as the feeling of having ended another life settled within him, Ethan retracted the dagger and stepped back. His back slamming against the carriage, he slid down and pressed a hand against his forehead. His cheek hurt. He smelled sweat and blood.
Fuck... Fuck... Breathe. This is... I can't... Breathe.
A chill ran down his spine and his heartbeat roared. He took a breath, adrenaline still surging through his veins. The sick feeling didn't leave his stomach, his entire body twitched as if electrocuted every once in a while, and his eyes started going hazy, unclear. Black spots in his field of vision. Sticky warmth all over. Hot metallic odor in his nostrils.
"Lord Theodore!" Roland's voice acted as a way for Ethan to reorient himself into reality. Roland looked ashen, not because he was tired but most likely because he'd let Ethan get into such a vulnerable position. Roland glanced at the corpse, then Ethan, then back at the corpse again, looking tense, lips tight and hands clutched into fists. "Are you alright, my lord?"
"Yes, of course," Ethan said as he studied the wound on his cheek. I need a healing skill. However, he noticed the visible distressed Roland was having and continued. "I'm fine. Don't worry. It's no big deal. For the moment, we need to clean up this mess."
Ethan could tell Roland was uncomfortable with the situation and Ethan's complete indifference, but the warrior dutifully obeyed his lord's commands. Ethan slumped onto his seat and looked through the notifications.
Your race, [Human], has leveled up — Lvl 0 -> Lvl 1!
Your class, [Mage], has level up — Lvl 0 -> Lvl 1!
[Unranked Mage] -> [Initiate]
[Elemental Spells] — Lvl 5 -> Lvl 6!
A [Quest] approaches!
Hmm, this is the second time I see the message 'A [Quest] approaches'... What is it? Why doesn't the system just give me the [Quest]? Are there conditions? Regardless, it seems that [Elemental Spells] just needed some use in battle instead of just plain old practice. Curious.
Ethan leaned back with a sigh. Now that his heartbeat wasn't drumming in his ear, the fear slowly ebbed away. All things considered, this turned out well, given the situation. However, now that he'd calmed somewhat, his eyes landed on the corpse right beside him, and that fresh scarlet blood seeping into the floorboards. The heavy coppery scent, the unmistakable smell of death. It all came crashing into him and he could no longer deny what he'd done. It had all gone so quickly.
No theatrics, the knife had just flown in, and the bandit had struggled, then stopped struggling.
Ethan stared at the corpses. With his hands on his lap, he gazed vacantly. For a single, stretched-out moment, the only thing he was aware of were the lifeless bodies right next to him, the sensation of having one less enemy standing in the way. One of the bandits had his jugular slashed. Another had a knife poking into his eyes. Ethan had killed them. Him. It was nauseatingly easy, taking another's life. It felt good. Ethan was disgusted at that thought, but damn did it feel good. I—I... I won. He wanted to grin, but he didn't.
Soon, the bandits were dealt with. Not a minute was wasted, and they cleaned up and got moving in a hurry, before Roland could throw the corpse inside the carriage out, Ethan stopped him.
He'd been staring at it, sitting there, silently. Bile would rise to the tip of his throat before he'd swallow it, a stone in his gut making his movements stiff. It felt unreal. When he took that step to make sure the bandit was dead, his eyes met with those of the corpse—with glassy black pupils that appeared frozen mid-realization that he was dying. Fearful, horrified eyes. Human eyes. Ethan stared into them, felt every fiber of his body clench, saw the smears of blood across the man's mouth where his desperate breaths had made him cough up, to live.
Ethan stared, not because he was a masochist or someone who derived pleasure from other people's misery. Rather, it was because he wanted this to never happen again. His reaction. It hadn't been optimal. He just knew he'd need to kill and spill blood if he was to survive, and thus, he needed to familiarize himself with the sight of death—death caused by his hands.
His thoughts were a little less orderly than he liked. That needed to change, fast. It would always be a burden, so he simply chose to stare, knowing he was staring down his weakness—at his fear.
After a solid five minutes, Ethan turned around. Roland's gaze met Ethan's. For a brief moment, the gaze was averted, the warrior showing clear guilt. Ethan placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Roland, don't blame yourself. I understand you must have felt cornered and unable to react. Just know I appreciate you. Don't beat yourself up for it. There have been no casualties on our side."
Roland bowed his head. Ethan smiled, though it was strained. Roland had been standing there for a while now but hadn't wanted to interrupt Ethan's self-reflection time, despite being tense himself. The guards had burned the corpses. Soon, the men Ethan killed were taken out, too. Then they left for the woods.
A guard who appeared to be a [Mage] that had a spell called [Cleanse] walked to the carriage, and placed his hands near the gore-splattered interior. In mere moments, a rune flickered into existence, then, mana got sucked out of the guard, seeping into the rune—soon, the blood and even the smells were swept clean and everything returned to being a neat and tidy.
The guard staggered a little before his comrades stabilized him. Must be quite demanding, Ethan noted, nodding appreciatively as the guard stepped out of the carriage. "That's quite the useful skill," Ethan said, examining the results.
Roland gave a silent nod, no doubt feeling pretty damn bad about his failure.
The guard, on the other hand, bowed with a smile, clearly appreciating Ethan's recognition. "It's a pleasure to be of service, my lord. This humble guard has had this skill ever since he became a mage."
Ethan made an impressed noise. "I see."
The guard beamed, then bowed even more before walking over to his fellow guards, who patted his backs at a job well done. Then, the horses pulled the carriage, and the carriage resumed moving. As soon as his back had settled into the cushion of the seat, an exhausting wave rolled over Ethan's body.
Before everything, however. I saw the rune. Ethan grinned a little, then willed mana into the shape of the rune.
It sputtered.
Ethan tried again, connecting different parts of the rune. One. Two. Three. Four. And as the rune sputtered again.
Throughout the journey to Deadwoods, Ethan kept at it.
He failed every time—
—and he didn't know why.
An immense headache assaulted him, and he had to stop his attempts.
-2-
The Deadwoods proved to be just what he'd expected. Dead. Charred branches and crumbling trees lay spread throughout. Roland looked around solemnly. Ethan was more interested in what kept this place the way it was. This land was, to put it simply, the most horrific location in the entire barony. It was a huge portion of a forest that appeared to be dead, thus why it had gotten the name Deadwoods.
Leaves crunched underneath Ethan's feet, and he studied his surroundings with morbid curiosity. The trees, branches and leaves were all dark in color as if something had scorched them. Many creatures lived here, animals like the usual game of deer, wolves, and foxes and sometimes there'd even been bears spotted. The dangerous thing, however, wasn't that the animals existed, it was that they were magical beasts. Mutants.
"Lord Theodore," Roland said, hand on his sword, eyes darting around in caution. "It is dangerous to be here—"
"Peh." Ethan waved his hand nonchalantly, much to Roland's shock at such an uncharacteristic behavior. "It will be worth it."
After all, I'm gonna have fun hunting monsters, leveling up, and finally, finally finding some goddamn tree ash.
First < Previous Next >
Patreon Discord
submitted by No_Marzipan_1230 to HFY [link] [comments]
An engineer in another world—blending science and magic to achieve greatness in a world where skills and levels reign supreme.
—
Ethan was just a plain old engineer, but everything changed when he was reborn into a world of skills, levels, and magic. With his advanced knowledge far ahead of the time period he finds himself in, this new reincarnated life will be much different than his last, especially because he can construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct runes—something no one else can do.
But with royal politics, looming tax collectors, a mountain of debt, dungeon incursions, cults, and hostile fantasy races mixing together into a cocktail of bullshit that threatens to bury his dreams; Ethan must bridge the gap between steel and sorcery to grow stronger. — Runecrafting is slow burn. — What to Expect: - Weak to very strong progression - Hardcore wish fulfillment - A balance of action, kingdom building, and runecrafting. - MC will trigger an industrial revolution, revolutionize magic, modernize agriculture, communication, commerce, textile production, education, transportation, sanitation, weapons manufacturing, leisure & entertainment, and medicine.
First < Previous Next >
Chapter 04
-1-Ethan's heart thumped in his throat as he looked at the arrow's head glinting. Fortunately, Roland had grabbed it in an instant. The arrow hadn't hit Ethan, and it likely wouldn't have. Roland threw the arrow aside as Ethan heard a muffled grunt and glanced out the window to the right. An arrow had pierced the side of their driver, right between the shoulder and chest. Ethan whipped back into his seat just as another projectile smashed against the other side of their carriage, denting it. Roland immediately stood up with a calm demeanor and unsheathed his sword. "Lord Theodore, please remain seated. This inconvenience will be dealt with shortly."
Ethan blinked up, nodded, and clasped his hands around his knee while resting his head against the window ledge as Roland got out. Situations such as this weren't anything he'd ever dealt with back on earth, but he had plenty of experience keeping himself in check when fear took hold. He'd been a boxer, after all. Ethan tapped his finger on his knee, again and again.
"Die, you shits!" a voice yelled, then a meaty crash was followed by a pained groan. It was clearly someone falling over. Moments later, footsteps approached from the other side. A man swung the carriage door open. "Get—"
Before he could say much else, a sword pierced through his chest. He slumped and hit the ground without a word, revealing Roland standing with a blank expression. His eyes were different than anything Ethan had seen since his transmigration—Roland looked nonchalant even after taking a life, which was understandable given that the man had likely taken a lot of lives. Ethan closed his eyes, refusing to look at the dead body.
More footsteps grew nearer. Two sets. They stopped beside their carriage. "Well fuck, what a piece of trash." one man said, then lurched at Roland with a bloody shout.
The fight was over in an instant.
Roland simply disappeared from his position before Ethan. Reappearing behind the two bandits flanking him, he delivered an equally lethal strike to each in turn. Simultaneously, a sharp crackling and whooshing sound made Ethan tense. Spreading out on the floor before the carriage, a dark blue magical glyph buzzed like electricity, sending sparks of electricity slamming into the bandits.
Then, the bandits' bodies split in two halves, their blood sprayed across the dirt before they even began collapsing with electricity sizzling on their bodies.
Just as he'd felt movement in the air through [Magic Perception], a man materialized right in front of Ethan. Tensing, Ethan didn't know what to do
Roland shouted from outside. Adrenaline rocketed through Ethan's veins. Hand moving, he grabbed the bandit's hand and twisted it. The bandit tackled him, and with the tight space, Ethan felt the tip of a knife nicking the side of his cheek. The wound stung badly, and with it, Ethan's mind blanked and his instincts kicked in.
Roland swiftly spun, but not in time to stop the man from pinning Ethan against the bench.
However, it wasn't needed. Ethan used [Elemental Spells] and summoned fire all over his palms. A sizzling sound erupted as the bandit cried out and went for Ethan's eyes with his free hand. Ethan bit the bandit's hand, and only got half a mouthful of skin and cloth. The bandit reeled back and leapt backward from the sudden burning pain, crying out as he crashed. Ethan lunged at him, grabbed and force-flipped the bandit's hand, and plunged the knife into his throat with an aggressive grunt. There was a short, gurgled cry, before the bandit tried swinging the knife towards him. "Cunt... bastard..." his bloody mouth formed the words, his eyes staring fearfully, but Ethan pushed the knife aggressively.
Blood sprayed and gushed onto Ethan's mouth.
Then, finally, the man stilled.
The corpse's weight fell onto Ethan, hot blood spilling out of the bandit's throat and filling the air with an acrid odor. Ethan felt it on his face. Hot. Metallic smell. He saw it dripping down the bandit's throat, all across his clothes, even in his hair. It was heavy, almost. Layer upon layer, the heavy cloak of the man's life weighting down on his spirit.
System notifications flashed but he ignored it given that bile rose in Ethan's throat. His vision darkened, and a rush of blood roared in his ear as his heart thumped like thunder. A violent urge to vomit rose within him, his entire body twitching. He had never seen a man die in front of him like this before. Disgusting as it was, he gulped everything down, even the reality he had found himself in, the death, the violence, it all set in at that moment. However, he had no time to delve on it. Even though he felt like someone had squeezed his windpipe, like a bullet was tearing through his skin, he needed to act. Now.
Ethan flipped the man aside and sat on his knees, pulling out the knife from the bandit's neck. From his place on the ground, he glanced at Roland engaged with three bandits.
One slipped past Roland and made it to Ethan. They're trying to get a hand on me. Why? The answer was simple. Oh, right... I'm a noble, they can just put a knife on my throat and demand shit...
Instead of giving the bandit the upper hand, Ethan took a breath. Once. Twice. Now or never, thinking so, he raised the knife and dove headfirst toward the approaching enemy. Caught by surprise, the bandit merely moved his free hand to counter attack. His fingers grasping the bandit's arm, he twisted it away, giving him room to go straight for the eye.
With a meaty sound, Ethan plunged the knife through the man's eyes. Blood spurted with a slick sound. The bandit wasn't fast enough to make a full reaction, as a sort of instinctive scream of terror got stuck halfway and died out. Then, as the feeling of having ended another life settled within him, Ethan retracted the dagger and stepped back. His back slamming against the carriage, he slid down and pressed a hand against his forehead. His cheek hurt. He smelled sweat and blood.
Fuck... Fuck... Breathe. This is... I can't... Breathe.
A chill ran down his spine and his heartbeat roared. He took a breath, adrenaline still surging through his veins. The sick feeling didn't leave his stomach, his entire body twitched as if electrocuted every once in a while, and his eyes started going hazy, unclear. Black spots in his field of vision. Sticky warmth all over. Hot metallic odor in his nostrils.
"Lord Theodore!" Roland's voice acted as a way for Ethan to reorient himself into reality. Roland looked ashen, not because he was tired but most likely because he'd let Ethan get into such a vulnerable position. Roland glanced at the corpse, then Ethan, then back at the corpse again, looking tense, lips tight and hands clutched into fists. "Are you alright, my lord?"
"Yes, of course," Ethan said as he studied the wound on his cheek. I need a healing skill. However, he noticed the visible distressed Roland was having and continued. "I'm fine. Don't worry. It's no big deal. For the moment, we need to clean up this mess."
Ethan could tell Roland was uncomfortable with the situation and Ethan's complete indifference, but the warrior dutifully obeyed his lord's commands. Ethan slumped onto his seat and looked through the notifications.
Your race, [Human], has leveled up — Lvl 0 -> Lvl 1!
Your class, [Mage], has level up — Lvl 0 -> Lvl 1!
[Unranked Mage] -> [Initiate]
[Elemental Spells] — Lvl 5 -> Lvl 6!
A [Quest] approaches!
Hmm, this is the second time I see the message 'A [Quest] approaches'... What is it? Why doesn't the system just give me the [Quest]? Are there conditions? Regardless, it seems that [Elemental Spells] just needed some use in battle instead of just plain old practice. Curious.
Ethan leaned back with a sigh. Now that his heartbeat wasn't drumming in his ear, the fear slowly ebbed away. All things considered, this turned out well, given the situation. However, now that he'd calmed somewhat, his eyes landed on the corpse right beside him, and that fresh scarlet blood seeping into the floorboards. The heavy coppery scent, the unmistakable smell of death. It all came crashing into him and he could no longer deny what he'd done. It had all gone so quickly.
No theatrics, the knife had just flown in, and the bandit had struggled, then stopped struggling.
Ethan stared at the corpses. With his hands on his lap, he gazed vacantly. For a single, stretched-out moment, the only thing he was aware of were the lifeless bodies right next to him, the sensation of having one less enemy standing in the way. One of the bandits had his jugular slashed. Another had a knife poking into his eyes. Ethan had killed them. Him. It was nauseatingly easy, taking another's life. It felt good. Ethan was disgusted at that thought, but damn did it feel good. I—I... I won. He wanted to grin, but he didn't.
Soon, the bandits were dealt with. Not a minute was wasted, and they cleaned up and got moving in a hurry, before Roland could throw the corpse inside the carriage out, Ethan stopped him.
He'd been staring at it, sitting there, silently. Bile would rise to the tip of his throat before he'd swallow it, a stone in his gut making his movements stiff. It felt unreal. When he took that step to make sure the bandit was dead, his eyes met with those of the corpse—with glassy black pupils that appeared frozen mid-realization that he was dying. Fearful, horrified eyes. Human eyes. Ethan stared into them, felt every fiber of his body clench, saw the smears of blood across the man's mouth where his desperate breaths had made him cough up, to live.
Ethan stared, not because he was a masochist or someone who derived pleasure from other people's misery. Rather, it was because he wanted this to never happen again. His reaction. It hadn't been optimal. He just knew he'd need to kill and spill blood if he was to survive, and thus, he needed to familiarize himself with the sight of death—death caused by his hands.
His thoughts were a little less orderly than he liked. That needed to change, fast. It would always be a burden, so he simply chose to stare, knowing he was staring down his weakness—at his fear.
After a solid five minutes, Ethan turned around. Roland's gaze met Ethan's. For a brief moment, the gaze was averted, the warrior showing clear guilt. Ethan placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Roland, don't blame yourself. I understand you must have felt cornered and unable to react. Just know I appreciate you. Don't beat yourself up for it. There have been no casualties on our side."
Roland bowed his head. Ethan smiled, though it was strained. Roland had been standing there for a while now but hadn't wanted to interrupt Ethan's self-reflection time, despite being tense himself. The guards had burned the corpses. Soon, the men Ethan killed were taken out, too. Then they left for the woods.
A guard who appeared to be a [Mage] that had a spell called [Cleanse] walked to the carriage, and placed his hands near the gore-splattered interior. In mere moments, a rune flickered into existence, then, mana got sucked out of the guard, seeping into the rune—soon, the blood and even the smells were swept clean and everything returned to being a neat and tidy.
The guard staggered a little before his comrades stabilized him. Must be quite demanding, Ethan noted, nodding appreciatively as the guard stepped out of the carriage. "That's quite the useful skill," Ethan said, examining the results.
Roland gave a silent nod, no doubt feeling pretty damn bad about his failure.
The guard, on the other hand, bowed with a smile, clearly appreciating Ethan's recognition. "It's a pleasure to be of service, my lord. This humble guard has had this skill ever since he became a mage."
Ethan made an impressed noise. "I see."
The guard beamed, then bowed even more before walking over to his fellow guards, who patted his backs at a job well done. Then, the horses pulled the carriage, and the carriage resumed moving. As soon as his back had settled into the cushion of the seat, an exhausting wave rolled over Ethan's body.
Before everything, however. I saw the rune. Ethan grinned a little, then willed mana into the shape of the rune.
It sputtered.
Ethan tried again, connecting different parts of the rune. One. Two. Three. Four. And as the rune sputtered again.
Throughout the journey to Deadwoods, Ethan kept at it.
He failed every time—
—and he didn't know why.
An immense headache assaulted him, and he had to stop his attempts.
-2-
The Deadwoods proved to be just what he'd expected. Dead. Charred branches and crumbling trees lay spread throughout. Roland looked around solemnly. Ethan was more interested in what kept this place the way it was. This land was, to put it simply, the most horrific location in the entire barony. It was a huge portion of a forest that appeared to be dead, thus why it had gotten the name Deadwoods.
Leaves crunched underneath Ethan's feet, and he studied his surroundings with morbid curiosity. The trees, branches and leaves were all dark in color as if something had scorched them. Many creatures lived here, animals like the usual game of deer, wolves, and foxes and sometimes there'd even been bears spotted. The dangerous thing, however, wasn't that the animals existed, it was that they were magical beasts. Mutants.
"Lord Theodore," Roland said, hand on his sword, eyes darting around in caution. "It is dangerous to be here—"
"Peh." Ethan waved his hand nonchalantly, much to Roland's shock at such an uncharacteristic behavior. "It will be worth it."
After all, I'm gonna have fun hunting monsters, leveling up, and finally, finally finding some goddamn tree ash.
First < Previous Next >
Patreon Discord
2024.05.21 06:31 No_Marzipan_1230 Death is a social construct - Industrial Mage: Modernizing a Magical World [Kingdom Building LitRPG]
Synopsis:
An engineer in another world—blending science and magic to achieve greatness in a world where skills and levels reign supreme.
—
Ethan was just a plain old engineer, but everything changed when he was reborn into a world of skills, levels, and magic. With his advanced knowledge far ahead of the time period he finds himself in, this new reincarnated life will be much different than his last, especially because he can construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct runes—something no one else can do.
But with royal politics, looming tax collectors, a mountain of debt, dungeon incursions, cults, and hostile fantasy races mixing together into a cocktail of bullshit that threatens to bury his dreams; Ethan must bridge the gap between steel and sorcery to grow stronger. — Runecrafting is slow burn. — What to Expect: - Weak to very strong progression - Hardcore wish fulfillment - A balance of action, kingdom building, and runecrafting. - MC will trigger an industrial revolution, revolutionize magic, modernize agriculture, communication, commerce, textile production, education, transportation, sanitation, weapons manufacturing, leisure & entertainment, and medicine.
Next >
Ethan’s fists pounded the punching bag, sending a rapid series of jabs that landed with resounding thumps, each strike punctuated by ragged breaths. Sweat dripped from his brow, stinging his eyes, but he refused to stop, refused to surrender to the burning in his muscles or the rawness of his knuckles. He remained focused on punching.
Around him, the rest of the boxing team rested, even the coach looked like he needed a breather. But Ethan couldn’t afford to slow down—not with the first round of eliminations looming.
More, Ethan thought, his muscles burning as he threw another combination of jabs and cross punches. More, more, more.
Boxing had never been his choice; it was a path forced upon him by a father with unfulfilled dreams. Yet somewhere along the way, the thrill of the fight had ignited a fire within Ethan—a primal need to test the boundaries of his endurance, to feel alive in a way no textbook could provide.
But now his father lay dying in a hospital bed, and Ethan was exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and physically. His muscles burned and his knuckles were raw. But he couldn’t stop.
“Oy, mate, you should take a break.”
Jacob’s voice cut through Ethan’s reverie, and he turned to face his friend, chest heaving. “I can keep going. I’m fine.”
Jacob shook his head, concern etched across his features. “You’re going to end up hurting yourself. Listen, I know you’re worried about the eliminations and your dad, but you’ve got this. You’ll be fine. You’ve trained so hard. Harder than any of us, mate.” Jacob placed a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up.”
“It’s not enough,” Ethan stepped away from the punching bag. “Not yet.”
“What do you mean? You’ve improved a ton since you first started, and you’ve gotten to this level faster than anyone else. There’s no way you’re getting cut from the team.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” Ethan said, sighing as he ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.
“Listen, man,” Jacob said, giving him a sympathetic smile. “I get that you’re nervous. It’s normal, okay? But I’ve seen you out there. You’re good. Really good. If anything, the rest of us are the ones who should be worried—”
Before Jacob could continue, Ethan’s phone rang, the sound loud in the otherwise silent gym.
Looking at his phone made him frown and excuse himself. The caller ID was a familiar one. With his phone pressed against his ears, he walked down the corridor, leaving the other members of the boxing team behind.
“Hello?” Ethan said into the phone.
Then, his world tilted on his axis.
-2-
Ethan hated funerals.
It was a strange thing to say, and yet, there he was, thinking that exact same thing as he stood at the side, watching as a small crowd gathered around. The smell of freshly turned earth was thick in the air, along with a heavy dose of sorrow and grief. Or maybe that was his imagination; after all, most were likely putting on a show. A wake that lasted all of ten minutes. A quick eulogy. The final plop of dirt onto the polished wood coffin. Then they were gone. Just like that, they were gone.
His father’s funeral was over just like that.
Ethan waited a while longer after all the mourners had dispersed, then finally turned to look at his mother. His mother sat slumped in the front pew of the church; her gaze fixed on the ground. He sat beside his mother silently. She looked older today, like all the fight and life had just seeped from her body. They didn’t speak a word for the longest while, but finally, his mother broke the silence.
“Do you blame me?”
“No,” he said automatically.
You do, a small voice said in the back of his head. Because maybe, if they hadn’t sent him away, he could’ve pursued his dreams...
“Thank you,” his mother said, the relief in her eyes far too apparent. She wrapped her arms around herself. Her hands trembled. She swallowed audibly before she continued. “I was such a stupid little girl when we married. I had no choice but to leave for Dubai because...”
“You don’t need to explain anything.” Ethan looked down at his knuckles. “I understand.”
“He always blamed himself,” she said suddenly, and Ethan frowned. “For not just letting you into civil engineering. For pressuring you into, well, violence.”
Ethan smiled wryly, staring up at the empty rafters overhead.
Such violence, Ethan, a voice whispered into his ears. Focus on your studies, not on hurting people. You’ll have a bright future, I’m sure of it.
Ethan sighed as he felt the memory rise unbidden in his mind. It wasn’t the first time his mother had spoken to him like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.
You can’t always rely on your fists, she would say. Sometimes, words are all you need. They can change lives, even save lives. They can be the difference between a happy life and a miserable one. Remember that.
Yeah, well, she failed to see it wasn’t hurting people he was after, but pushing himself beyond his limits. To prove to himself that he could. To feel the limits of his body, and surpass them.
To feel alive.
“Your father wanted the best for you,” she said.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Ethan gave his mother a sad smile. He talked with his mother a little bit after, but eventually, he excused himself.
She hugged him before he left. A tight, almost desperate squeeze that seemed to drag out for longer than it really did. Ethan wasn’t entirely sure how to respond and wasn’t able to think of anything better than giving her a couple of awkward pats on the back.
Then, when somewhere nice, he lit a cigarette. Stupid, useless, and unhealthy, but he had to do something to let off steam or his entire body was going to burst apart like a firecracker.
When it was nearly time for the cigarette to burn itself out, he suddenly got engulfed in bright light. He didn’t think, nor could he; it was just way too fast.
The last thought he had was something along the lines of ‘the fuck?’ before he crashed face-first into space-time itself.
-3-
Ethan slammed his head against the plush velvet pillow, groaning. Post-reincarnation—transmigration?—headaches were a real pain, especially when you woke up in the body of a drunken wastrel named Theodore Lockheart, the most indebted, despised, fucked up noble in the entire bordertowns—lands that were on the border of the world of the living; lands that were under the constant threat of the dead.
He was tired, irritable, and he had a headache so annoying it was almost as if his skull was split open. Not to mention, his nose was throbbing in pain from what he could only guess had been a one-sided beatdown.
Had the Baron gotten beaten to a pulp somehow?
It was possible, after all, Ethan did remember snippets of Theodore’s recent memories—nothing more than that, though. Theodore tended to suit up as a rich merchant. And he’d likely gone to the bar after losing his fortune earlier in the night, and then had likely fucked a wench or two, vented on the poor women, gotten punched and kicked out.
Groaning, Ethan peeled himself out of bed and forced himself to move. He had things he wanted to do today, like sit somewhere nice and contemplate the meaning of existence—or smoke cigarettes. But sadly, he had none, and he despised alcohol.
Strange, Theodore—no, Ethan, thought. Why do I so easily believe in all this? And why am I so easily accepting that I’m this bastard now?
Though the question was there, Ethan found that it didn’t bring up any emotions. It was like an empty sentence in his thoughts, with nothing behind it.
Ding! System Initiating…
Consciousness transferred...
Subject: Ethan
Social integration protocols activated.
Linguistic database uploaded. Communication in all known languages will be facilitated.
Confirmation: Subject has all their memories upon induction. Check.
Disclaimer: This is not a dream simulation. This is a permanent transfer. Subject has been induced to fully believe this reality, but nothing else inside the subject has been altered.
Confirmation: Memories and core identity remain unaltered.
Warning: The subject will perceive everything as real.
Directive: Enjoy the New World. Second chance protocols initiated.
The System has awoken within you. [Nur] is a world unimaginable power awaits. You, Ethan, have the chance to become extraordinary.
A [Quest] approaches!
Congratulations! You have unlocked the skill: [Magic Sensitivity]!
Congratulations! You have unlocked the skill: [Magic Perception]!
Congratulations! You have unlocked the skill: [Myriad Tongue]!
Ding! Please brace for loss of consciousness!
“What in the god-fucking-damned hell—?” Ethan muttered, then fell unconscious. When Ethan woke up again, a screen flashed in front of him.
Please select your preferred Class...
The screen, Ethan found, didn’t elicit any reaction out of him. It wasn’t shocking, nor unbelievable, it was just as if it was a universal truth he’d come to believe since childhood. Like a phone’s existence, or the internet, perhaps. The fact that he thought that way made him sigh. He just hoped anything else inside him hadn’t been changed.
Ethan looked through the page that appeared in front of him.
[Warrior (Common)]
Function: Frontline combatant
Prerequisite: None
Description: A Common-Ranked Class. Grants basic proficiency with all melee weapon types (sword, spear, ax, etc.)
Specialization Paths: Available after further training and/or meeting certain requirements: [Barbarian], [Knight], [Paladin], [Cavalryman], [Mercenary] (and more)
[Archer (Common)]
Function: Ranged Damage Dealer
Prerequisite: None
Description: Basic proficiency with bows and arrows.
Specialization Paths:
Adjacent: Unlockable after further training: [Thief], [Assassin] (and more)
Advanced: Upon reaching specific requirements: [Spirit Archer], [Magic Archer] (and more)
[Mage (Common)]
Function: Ranged Magic User
Prerequisite: None
Description: Basic application of magical abilities.
Specialization Paths: Unlockable after further study: [Warlock], [Alchemist], [Summoner] (and more)
[Healer (Common)]
Function: Support - Restoration and Enhancement
Prerequisite: A [Faith].
Description: Devoted healer, blessed with divine magic, requires [Faith] in a deity. A healer’s heart heals the spirit of ailing beings, providing great spiritual buffs. Can heal wounds and ailments of allies. Can enhance allied attributes and resistances.
Specialization Paths: Unlockable after advanced training (may vary by race or deity): [Temple Priest], [Battle Medic], [Nature Mender] (and more)
After looking through the available Classes, it didn’t take long for Ethan to immediately dismiss both the [Healer] and [Warrior]. [Healer] would be too weak unless he got to its Specialization Paths—not to mention he’d need to have faith in some god, which he did not—and [Warrior] meant he’d need to be close range all the time. Ethan didn’t like risk, thus that idea went to waste as fast as a blade through butter. That left him with two options, and a more or less clear idea of which choice to make.
[Archer] was dismissed for the sole reason that it didn’t appeal to him much, although he was indeed curious as to why it had [Thief] and [Assassin] as its Adjacent Specialization Paths. Regardless, there was only one choice left: Mage—something he’d have chosen anyway given that the system had given him [Magic Sensitivity] and [Magic Perception], although he’d yet to test those skills out. They seemed passive anyway.
Ethan selected his chosen Class.
Congratulations! You are now an [Unranked Mage].
You are capable of casting minor, beginner-level magics.
You can use magical implements and perform incantations with limited versatility.
Congratulations! You have gained skill: [Basic Magic Script]!
Congratulations! You have gained skill: [Elemental Spells]!
Due to your [Magic Perception] and [Magic Sensitivity], the effectiveness of magical spells and skills are now increased by 10%!
“That’s it?” Ethan blinked. “I would’ve expected, I don’t know, for my entire body to feel on fire, or something.”
Not that he ever had that happen in his life. Fiction really put false expectations into his mind.
Theodore Lockheart
[Race: Human]⨽[Rank: G]⨽[Level: 0]
[Class: Mage]⨽[Rank: Unranked]⨽[Level: 0]
[Skills]: Basic Magic Script (Lvl. 1), Elemental Spells (Lvl. 1), Magic Sensitivity (Lvl. 1), Magic Perception (Lvl. 1), Myriad Tongue (Lvl. 1)
[Titles: None]
Ethan sifted through the skills to better understand what he could do now.
Basic Magic Script – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: This skill allows you to understand and write basic magical notation of the world. Connection Effect: [Basic Magic Script] has established a Connection with one of your existing skills [Magic Perception], essentially giving you the ability to not only comprehend simple spells but also create the runes required to cast them. However, complex and advanced theories will likely be beyond your grasp at this level.
Elemental Spells – Level 1
Type: Active
Effect: You can cast basic elemental spells. At this level, your spells are limited in power and complexity.
Magic Sensitivity – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: You possess a heightened awareness of magical energies in your immediate surroundings. You can feel faint tingles or experience subtle temperature changes when magic is being used nearby. This ability helps you identify areas with magical activity or sense the presence of magic. However, pinpointing the exact source or nature of the magic might be difficult at this level.
Magic Perception – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: You can see the underlying runes whenever a spell is cast in front of you. However, deciphering complex spells to view their runes will likely be blurry or misleading at this level. Connection Effect: [Magic Perception] has established a Connection with one of your existing skills, [Basic Magic Script], essentially giving you the ability to not only comprehend simple spells but also create the runes required to cast them. However, complex and advanced theories will likely be beyond your grasp at this level.
Myriad Tongue – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: You can understand and speak all the languages of this world. This skill allows you to communicate with most of the species you encounter. Complex conversations will likely require further development of this skill. Connection Effect: [Myriad Tongue] has established a Connection with [Basic Magic Script], essentially giving you an inherent understanding of the runic language of magic.
Holy... So, this world’s really like a game, huh? There are no stats, though. Why? Ethan rubbed his chin. The skills were nice. Ethan was excited to test his skills out when someone knocked once on the door and entered. “My lord,” said the man Ethan quickly recognized as one of his advisors, Cedric, “I’ve received notice that the duke’s men have begun their journey from the Capital.” He bowed. “They’re coming to collect tax.”
Saying so, Cedric left Ethan to ponder.
Tax? What?
In this world of swords and spells, tax consisted of the rarest of monster parts and materials. Priceless Relics were found in the Deadlands just out the border—lands that were full of dangers of the highest caliber, along with endless rewards. And because these materials and items were all of a higher value, not paying tax could easily put a small town like this into debt, unless the town managed to somehow attract a wealthy and profitable industry or find themselves a noble willing to spend his coin to help their people.
Such a noble couldn’t be Theo, clearly. After all, he was just a run-of-the-mill spoiled brat from a prominent aristocratic family—the typical wastrel born lucky into money and power without ever needing to work a single day in his entire life.
Regardless, the tax was Ethan’s issue now, and he wasn’t ready to deal with it given that Theo already had quite a debt in the first place.
Ethan’s eyes deadened.
Next >
Patreon Discord
submitted by No_Marzipan_1230 to HFY [link] [comments]
An engineer in another world—blending science and magic to achieve greatness in a world where skills and levels reign supreme.
—
Ethan was just a plain old engineer, but everything changed when he was reborn into a world of skills, levels, and magic. With his advanced knowledge far ahead of the time period he finds himself in, this new reincarnated life will be much different than his last, especially because he can construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct runes—something no one else can do.
But with royal politics, looming tax collectors, a mountain of debt, dungeon incursions, cults, and hostile fantasy races mixing together into a cocktail of bullshit that threatens to bury his dreams; Ethan must bridge the gap between steel and sorcery to grow stronger. — Runecrafting is slow burn. — What to Expect: - Weak to very strong progression - Hardcore wish fulfillment - A balance of action, kingdom building, and runecrafting. - MC will trigger an industrial revolution, revolutionize magic, modernize agriculture, communication, commerce, textile production, education, transportation, sanitation, weapons manufacturing, leisure & entertainment, and medicine.
Next >
Chapter 01
-1-Ethan’s fists pounded the punching bag, sending a rapid series of jabs that landed with resounding thumps, each strike punctuated by ragged breaths. Sweat dripped from his brow, stinging his eyes, but he refused to stop, refused to surrender to the burning in his muscles or the rawness of his knuckles. He remained focused on punching.
Around him, the rest of the boxing team rested, even the coach looked like he needed a breather. But Ethan couldn’t afford to slow down—not with the first round of eliminations looming.
More, Ethan thought, his muscles burning as he threw another combination of jabs and cross punches. More, more, more.
Boxing had never been his choice; it was a path forced upon him by a father with unfulfilled dreams. Yet somewhere along the way, the thrill of the fight had ignited a fire within Ethan—a primal need to test the boundaries of his endurance, to feel alive in a way no textbook could provide.
But now his father lay dying in a hospital bed, and Ethan was exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and physically. His muscles burned and his knuckles were raw. But he couldn’t stop.
“Oy, mate, you should take a break.”
Jacob’s voice cut through Ethan’s reverie, and he turned to face his friend, chest heaving. “I can keep going. I’m fine.”
Jacob shook his head, concern etched across his features. “You’re going to end up hurting yourself. Listen, I know you’re worried about the eliminations and your dad, but you’ve got this. You’ll be fine. You’ve trained so hard. Harder than any of us, mate.” Jacob placed a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up.”
“It’s not enough,” Ethan stepped away from the punching bag. “Not yet.”
“What do you mean? You’ve improved a ton since you first started, and you’ve gotten to this level faster than anyone else. There’s no way you’re getting cut from the team.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” Ethan said, sighing as he ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.
“Listen, man,” Jacob said, giving him a sympathetic smile. “I get that you’re nervous. It’s normal, okay? But I’ve seen you out there. You’re good. Really good. If anything, the rest of us are the ones who should be worried—”
Before Jacob could continue, Ethan’s phone rang, the sound loud in the otherwise silent gym.
Looking at his phone made him frown and excuse himself. The caller ID was a familiar one. With his phone pressed against his ears, he walked down the corridor, leaving the other members of the boxing team behind.
“Hello?” Ethan said into the phone.
Then, his world tilted on his axis.
-2-
Ethan hated funerals.
It was a strange thing to say, and yet, there he was, thinking that exact same thing as he stood at the side, watching as a small crowd gathered around. The smell of freshly turned earth was thick in the air, along with a heavy dose of sorrow and grief. Or maybe that was his imagination; after all, most were likely putting on a show. A wake that lasted all of ten minutes. A quick eulogy. The final plop of dirt onto the polished wood coffin. Then they were gone. Just like that, they were gone.
His father’s funeral was over just like that.
Ethan waited a while longer after all the mourners had dispersed, then finally turned to look at his mother. His mother sat slumped in the front pew of the church; her gaze fixed on the ground. He sat beside his mother silently. She looked older today, like all the fight and life had just seeped from her body. They didn’t speak a word for the longest while, but finally, his mother broke the silence.
“Do you blame me?”
“No,” he said automatically.
You do, a small voice said in the back of his head. Because maybe, if they hadn’t sent him away, he could’ve pursued his dreams...
“Thank you,” his mother said, the relief in her eyes far too apparent. She wrapped her arms around herself. Her hands trembled. She swallowed audibly before she continued. “I was such a stupid little girl when we married. I had no choice but to leave for Dubai because...”
“You don’t need to explain anything.” Ethan looked down at his knuckles. “I understand.”
“He always blamed himself,” she said suddenly, and Ethan frowned. “For not just letting you into civil engineering. For pressuring you into, well, violence.”
Ethan smiled wryly, staring up at the empty rafters overhead.
Such violence, Ethan, a voice whispered into his ears. Focus on your studies, not on hurting people. You’ll have a bright future, I’m sure of it.
Ethan sighed as he felt the memory rise unbidden in his mind. It wasn’t the first time his mother had spoken to him like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.
You can’t always rely on your fists, she would say. Sometimes, words are all you need. They can change lives, even save lives. They can be the difference between a happy life and a miserable one. Remember that.
Yeah, well, she failed to see it wasn’t hurting people he was after, but pushing himself beyond his limits. To prove to himself that he could. To feel the limits of his body, and surpass them.
To feel alive.
“Your father wanted the best for you,” she said.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Ethan gave his mother a sad smile. He talked with his mother a little bit after, but eventually, he excused himself.
She hugged him before he left. A tight, almost desperate squeeze that seemed to drag out for longer than it really did. Ethan wasn’t entirely sure how to respond and wasn’t able to think of anything better than giving her a couple of awkward pats on the back.
Then, when somewhere nice, he lit a cigarette. Stupid, useless, and unhealthy, but he had to do something to let off steam or his entire body was going to burst apart like a firecracker.
When it was nearly time for the cigarette to burn itself out, he suddenly got engulfed in bright light. He didn’t think, nor could he; it was just way too fast.
The last thought he had was something along the lines of ‘the fuck?’ before he crashed face-first into space-time itself.
-3-
Ethan slammed his head against the plush velvet pillow, groaning. Post-reincarnation—transmigration?—headaches were a real pain, especially when you woke up in the body of a drunken wastrel named Theodore Lockheart, the most indebted, despised, fucked up noble in the entire bordertowns—lands that were on the border of the world of the living; lands that were under the constant threat of the dead.
He was tired, irritable, and he had a headache so annoying it was almost as if his skull was split open. Not to mention, his nose was throbbing in pain from what he could only guess had been a one-sided beatdown.
Had the Baron gotten beaten to a pulp somehow?
It was possible, after all, Ethan did remember snippets of Theodore’s recent memories—nothing more than that, though. Theodore tended to suit up as a rich merchant. And he’d likely gone to the bar after losing his fortune earlier in the night, and then had likely fucked a wench or two, vented on the poor women, gotten punched and kicked out.
Groaning, Ethan peeled himself out of bed and forced himself to move. He had things he wanted to do today, like sit somewhere nice and contemplate the meaning of existence—or smoke cigarettes. But sadly, he had none, and he despised alcohol.
Strange, Theodore—no, Ethan, thought. Why do I so easily believe in all this? And why am I so easily accepting that I’m this bastard now?
Though the question was there, Ethan found that it didn’t bring up any emotions. It was like an empty sentence in his thoughts, with nothing behind it.
Ding! System Initiating…
Consciousness transferred...
Subject: Ethan
Social integration protocols activated.
Linguistic database uploaded. Communication in all known languages will be facilitated.
Confirmation: Subject has all their memories upon induction. Check.
Disclaimer: This is not a dream simulation. This is a permanent transfer. Subject has been induced to fully believe this reality, but nothing else inside the subject has been altered.
Confirmation: Memories and core identity remain unaltered.
Warning: The subject will perceive everything as real.
Directive: Enjoy the New World. Second chance protocols initiated.
The System has awoken within you. [Nur] is a world unimaginable power awaits. You, Ethan, have the chance to become extraordinary.
A [Quest] approaches!
Congratulations! You have unlocked the skill: [Magic Sensitivity]!
Congratulations! You have unlocked the skill: [Magic Perception]!
Congratulations! You have unlocked the skill: [Myriad Tongue]!
Ding! Please brace for loss of consciousness!
“What in the god-fucking-damned hell—?” Ethan muttered, then fell unconscious. When Ethan woke up again, a screen flashed in front of him.
Please select your preferred Class...
The screen, Ethan found, didn’t elicit any reaction out of him. It wasn’t shocking, nor unbelievable, it was just as if it was a universal truth he’d come to believe since childhood. Like a phone’s existence, or the internet, perhaps. The fact that he thought that way made him sigh. He just hoped anything else inside him hadn’t been changed.
Ethan looked through the page that appeared in front of him.
[Warrior (Common)]
Function: Frontline combatant
Prerequisite: None
Description: A Common-Ranked Class. Grants basic proficiency with all melee weapon types (sword, spear, ax, etc.)
Specialization Paths: Available after further training and/or meeting certain requirements: [Barbarian], [Knight], [Paladin], [Cavalryman], [Mercenary] (and more)
[Archer (Common)]
Function: Ranged Damage Dealer
Prerequisite: None
Description: Basic proficiency with bows and arrows.
Specialization Paths:
Adjacent: Unlockable after further training: [Thief], [Assassin] (and more)
Advanced: Upon reaching specific requirements: [Spirit Archer], [Magic Archer] (and more)
[Mage (Common)]
Function: Ranged Magic User
Prerequisite: None
Description: Basic application of magical abilities.
Specialization Paths: Unlockable after further study: [Warlock], [Alchemist], [Summoner] (and more)
[Healer (Common)]
Function: Support - Restoration and Enhancement
Prerequisite: A [Faith].
Description: Devoted healer, blessed with divine magic, requires [Faith] in a deity. A healer’s heart heals the spirit of ailing beings, providing great spiritual buffs. Can heal wounds and ailments of allies. Can enhance allied attributes and resistances.
Specialization Paths: Unlockable after advanced training (may vary by race or deity): [Temple Priest], [Battle Medic], [Nature Mender] (and more)
After looking through the available Classes, it didn’t take long for Ethan to immediately dismiss both the [Healer] and [Warrior]. [Healer] would be too weak unless he got to its Specialization Paths—not to mention he’d need to have faith in some god, which he did not—and [Warrior] meant he’d need to be close range all the time. Ethan didn’t like risk, thus that idea went to waste as fast as a blade through butter. That left him with two options, and a more or less clear idea of which choice to make.
[Archer] was dismissed for the sole reason that it didn’t appeal to him much, although he was indeed curious as to why it had [Thief] and [Assassin] as its Adjacent Specialization Paths. Regardless, there was only one choice left: Mage—something he’d have chosen anyway given that the system had given him [Magic Sensitivity] and [Magic Perception], although he’d yet to test those skills out. They seemed passive anyway.
Ethan selected his chosen Class.
Congratulations! You are now an [Unranked Mage].
You are capable of casting minor, beginner-level magics.
You can use magical implements and perform incantations with limited versatility.
Congratulations! You have gained skill: [Basic Magic Script]!
Congratulations! You have gained skill: [Elemental Spells]!
Due to your [Magic Perception] and [Magic Sensitivity], the effectiveness of magical spells and skills are now increased by 10%!
“That’s it?” Ethan blinked. “I would’ve expected, I don’t know, for my entire body to feel on fire, or something.”
Not that he ever had that happen in his life. Fiction really put false expectations into his mind.
Theodore Lockheart
[Race: Human]⨽[Rank: G]⨽[Level: 0]
[Class: Mage]⨽[Rank: Unranked]⨽[Level: 0]
[Skills]: Basic Magic Script (Lvl. 1), Elemental Spells (Lvl. 1), Magic Sensitivity (Lvl. 1), Magic Perception (Lvl. 1), Myriad Tongue (Lvl. 1)
[Titles: None]
Ethan sifted through the skills to better understand what he could do now.
Basic Magic Script – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: This skill allows you to understand and write basic magical notation of the world. Connection Effect: [Basic Magic Script] has established a Connection with one of your existing skills [Magic Perception], essentially giving you the ability to not only comprehend simple spells but also create the runes required to cast them. However, complex and advanced theories will likely be beyond your grasp at this level.
Elemental Spells – Level 1
Type: Active
Effect: You can cast basic elemental spells. At this level, your spells are limited in power and complexity.
Magic Sensitivity – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: You possess a heightened awareness of magical energies in your immediate surroundings. You can feel faint tingles or experience subtle temperature changes when magic is being used nearby. This ability helps you identify areas with magical activity or sense the presence of magic. However, pinpointing the exact source or nature of the magic might be difficult at this level.
Magic Perception – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: You can see the underlying runes whenever a spell is cast in front of you. However, deciphering complex spells to view their runes will likely be blurry or misleading at this level. Connection Effect: [Magic Perception] has established a Connection with one of your existing skills, [Basic Magic Script], essentially giving you the ability to not only comprehend simple spells but also create the runes required to cast them. However, complex and advanced theories will likely be beyond your grasp at this level.
Myriad Tongue – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: You can understand and speak all the languages of this world. This skill allows you to communicate with most of the species you encounter. Complex conversations will likely require further development of this skill. Connection Effect: [Myriad Tongue] has established a Connection with [Basic Magic Script], essentially giving you an inherent understanding of the runic language of magic.
Holy... So, this world’s really like a game, huh? There are no stats, though. Why? Ethan rubbed his chin. The skills were nice. Ethan was excited to test his skills out when someone knocked once on the door and entered. “My lord,” said the man Ethan quickly recognized as one of his advisors, Cedric, “I’ve received notice that the duke’s men have begun their journey from the Capital.” He bowed. “They’re coming to collect tax.”
Saying so, Cedric left Ethan to ponder.
Tax? What?
In this world of swords and spells, tax consisted of the rarest of monster parts and materials. Priceless Relics were found in the Deadlands just out the border—lands that were full of dangers of the highest caliber, along with endless rewards. And because these materials and items were all of a higher value, not paying tax could easily put a small town like this into debt, unless the town managed to somehow attract a wealthy and profitable industry or find themselves a noble willing to spend his coin to help their people.
Such a noble couldn’t be Theo, clearly. After all, he was just a run-of-the-mill spoiled brat from a prominent aristocratic family—the typical wastrel born lucky into money and power without ever needing to work a single day in his entire life.
Regardless, the tax was Ethan’s issue now, and he wasn’t ready to deal with it given that Theo already had quite a debt in the first place.
Ethan’s eyes deadened.
Next >
Patreon Discord
2024.05.21 05:18 hadmeatgotmilk Doug handles a heckler
I saw Doug a few years ago in a smaller hotel bar venue. Show is going great he’s killing it as usual. He does a little over an hour. Great show.
Doug starts to get to the end of his set and he says something to the effect of, “And before I leave I want to say.”
Out of no where, no warning a drunk guy in the crowd yells at the top of his lungs, “You can’t leave my dick’s still hard!”
Everyone in the audience was confused. This seriously came out of no where. No timing. No rhyme or reason. No previous heckles. Nothing. A couple of people in the crowd are start to tell the guy to shut up and kinda jeer him a little.
Without hesitation Doug says, “You guys stop. There have been time when I’ve done something drunk that keeps me up at night. Let this be his moment. Let this single moment fester a deep burning self hatred that keeps him up at night. One day while he’s driving the random feeling of shame and self loathing will rear its head, he will be deeply ashamed of himself, and let it burn deep within himself until one day he breaks down. Let this be the moment that breaks him……… and with that good night.” And he walked offstage.
(of course I’m paraphrasing and not remembering word for word but you get the gist)
Crowd erupts in laughter. Standing Ovation
Just thought you guys would enjoy that.
Side note. I was sitting right in front of the guy and when he stood up to leave he face planted into the floor face first. His girlfriend had to carry him outside.
submitted by hadmeatgotmilk to DougStanhope [link] [comments]
Doug starts to get to the end of his set and he says something to the effect of, “And before I leave I want to say.”
Out of no where, no warning a drunk guy in the crowd yells at the top of his lungs, “You can’t leave my dick’s still hard!”
Everyone in the audience was confused. This seriously came out of no where. No timing. No rhyme or reason. No previous heckles. Nothing. A couple of people in the crowd are start to tell the guy to shut up and kinda jeer him a little.
Without hesitation Doug says, “You guys stop. There have been time when I’ve done something drunk that keeps me up at night. Let this be his moment. Let this single moment fester a deep burning self hatred that keeps him up at night. One day while he’s driving the random feeling of shame and self loathing will rear its head, he will be deeply ashamed of himself, and let it burn deep within himself until one day he breaks down. Let this be the moment that breaks him……… and with that good night.” And he walked offstage.
(of course I’m paraphrasing and not remembering word for word but you get the gist)
Crowd erupts in laughter. Standing Ovation
Just thought you guys would enjoy that.
Side note. I was sitting right in front of the guy and when he stood up to leave he face planted into the floor face first. His girlfriend had to carry him outside.
2024.05.21 02:38 Erwinblackthorn Brandon Sanderson is Woke
New Flash everyone: the guy who hangs out with Daniel Greene(a pro-fairy rights socialist), is loved by redditors, and got a Hugo award is… woke. Who would have ever seen that coming? But, thanks to Jon Del Arroz making a video about it on May 18th, I am here to repeat the news back to you so there is an easily accessible source as to HOW he’s woke. Everything was revealed back in January 2023, but I want people to understand the implications and narrative that he’s presenting when he says his concerns about fairy rights. By the end of this, you will realize that people calling themselves Christian does not cause them to be immune to wokeness.
In fact, with how Christianity has influenced wokeness into existence, it’s likely a lot of "Christians" are what we can call “first wave wokeness”.
For context, Brandon Sanderson is a Mormon, part of the Latter-Day Saints (LDS). Mormonism is almost exclusively a US issue, and I’ve also noticed that there are a lot of youtubers who tend to be Mormon women(probably because they have other women in the house to do the chores). These people are great with money, big in business, and their church is anti-fairy. A lot of problems the fairy-rights activists have are with Mormon churches, which is strange for Europeans to witness with how open a lot of their churches are, outside of the US. Protestant, evangelical, unitarian, the national church of Denmark, it’s a big list.
But in 2008, Brandon wrote an essay about his Mormon beliefs on how Dumbledore from Harry Potter liked to have wands stirred around in his brown cauldron. His quote:
Fast forward to 2023, after he hangs out with a bunch of woke youtubers, and we get a new quote from Brandon:
But that’s been the point for a while, right?
Wokeness is here to restructure both historical evidence and even religions, in order to shift cultures and social institutions to obey this progressive change. Words are changed in the dictionary, social “norms” are changed to be updated for a “modern audience”, and postmodernists like Foucault were able to trick college kids into thinking the Greeks were all pixie fairies. Once a critical theorist gets their hands on something with power, their goal is not to keep it as it is. It is to keep it for themselves. This is why you will hear these people say everything is subjective, which is secret code for “Look at me: I’m the captain of reality now.”
But wait, it gets better! Brandon Sanderson continued with:
Brandon cares deeply about the pain he caused to his wallet… I mean the fairies who saw his essay. He was an award winning author back then, he didn’t know it would be a global thing. It was supposed to be only seen by people in Utah, that’s it. This is what we call: bullshit. The woke rely heavily on gaslighting and pretending they’re ignorant of everything, while telling others that they need to learn and understand EVERYTHING about a subject before they are even able to mention it.
He was already big on reddit, he knew all about his fandom, and he knew about his publisher, Tor. The only thing that really changed is that now he is unable to stick to being liberal and he has to present himself as progressive. Why? Well, the new Amazon deal happened recently, and he’s the writer of the series The Wheel of Time. As if Rings of Power wasn’t evidence enough of how Amazon mistreats their properties, Brandon was forced to erase his own past, like Agent J in Men in Black, burning his own hands in the process.
I’m not surprised that he’s woke or even that Christians are falling to this woke inquisition. When I said first wave wokeness, I would like to clarify why it’s the catalyst for all of this stupidity. Wokeness is not of Christian values, but instead a parasite upon Christianity, in the same way Gnosticism and Satanism would be. When Christianity started to allow new sects, and a lot of these were considered valid, the crazy sex cults of the 60s opened the floodgates for a bunch of crazy reinterpretations. It’s the same way as how there are still circles of Christianity that go for flat earth theory or say that dinosaurs don’t exist, with these people usually at the forefront of the home-schooling movement.
It’s not that home-schooling is bad by itself, it’s that bad people use it to then have the good people using it be wrongfully grouped into the same area, in the same way gun-ownership does. This type of bastardization has always been a problem in the US, due to the lack of authority over what makes something categorized as such a thing, thanks to liberalism allowing the freedom to constantly change things. As time went on, this liberalism changed into progressivism, with the key difference being that liberalism is an allowance of change while progressivism is an enforced change. The liberalism of the 1800s allowed the Confederates to claim Christianity approved of their enslavement of black people, by blaming the story of Ham and using scripture to claim it was okay to enslave certain people for generations. We always see this strange cherry-picking of scripture from fake Christians, and this problem has expanded into the Vatican itself with the current and following generations of Popes.
A lot of times, we’ll hear news about how Christians are under attack, a bakery is targeted to expose discrimination, or even where people claim they were banned from twitch for being Christian. But what they get wrong is that they are in the same circle as liberal and progressive Christianity, their openness created this weakness to tourism, and most Christian circles have been taken over in the US since before the 60s. The south has a culture of being liberal, Mormons have a culture of being liberal, protestants are very liberal, all because the US began as a liberal culture in the form of classical liberalism. The libertarian argument is always used by these liberal groups, that changes into the progressive enforcement, and over the years these liberal people get infected by the virus.
Add money to the mix, and we have ourselves an endless chain of liberal minded people falling to wokeness. The “redemption” narrative, along with original sin, from Christianity is currently its main weakness. The appeal to ignorance is another weakness, with people playing skeptic as a snake slithers through the grass. Christianity isn’t the problem by itself, it’s the naivety that comes from blind faith, which then expands into a contradictory blind faith that people are good inside, only to later wonder why everything is changing for the worse when evil people are put in charge. Fantasy stories have been under attack by the woke for quite a while, long before they tried to appropriate Tolkien with Rings of Power.
The fantasy that is controlled by the woke is an extension to their attack on religion, because to them a fantasy story is no different than a bible. Mythological presentation, symbolic themes, a dream-like world to present morals to follow; the entire thing has been used by Brandon to then have him later claim that he’s always had fairy characters since the beginning. Sure, his religion says fairies are bad, but then he virtue signals by claiming he’s always made fiction about how they’re good. He would never say this if the publishing world made sense and if publishers were the way they were in the 1950s. That is because he would never have to choose between religion and money back then, with money always mattering more to the typical materialist.
I’m sure people will say that I’m being hard on Christians, or that I’m evil for saying this, or even that I am a satanist for noticing. These people would only be angry at the truth being said, which is the opposite of what Christianity teaches. Fantasy writers, like Brandon, have a lot of supporters, with this support merging between the woke and Mormons. So many feel that they need to make sense of their fandom, so they claim their religion is wokeness, converting it into blind Satanism. This is far from the truth and we need to condemn those who focus solely on radical subjectivity.
Especially if they blame God for their stupid takes, like how Brandon does now.
submitted by Erwinblackthorn to TDLH [link] [comments]
In fact, with how Christianity has influenced wokeness into existence, it’s likely a lot of "Christians" are what we can call “first wave wokeness”.
For context, Brandon Sanderson is a Mormon, part of the Latter-Day Saints (LDS). Mormonism is almost exclusively a US issue, and I’ve also noticed that there are a lot of youtubers who tend to be Mormon women(probably because they have other women in the house to do the chores). These people are great with money, big in business, and their church is anti-fairy. A lot of problems the fairy-rights activists have are with Mormon churches, which is strange for Europeans to witness with how open a lot of their churches are, outside of the US. Protestant, evangelical, unitarian, the national church of Denmark, it’s a big list.
But in 2008, Brandon wrote an essay about his Mormon beliefs on how Dumbledore from Harry Potter liked to have wands stirred around in his brown cauldron. His quote:
How does this relate to Dumbledore? I'm not trying to present him as an antagonist or a villain. All I'm saying is that if you believe in the truth of your message, then you shouldn't care if someone decent, respected, and intelligent is depicted as believing differently from yourself. Decent, respected, and intelligent people can be wrong--and you can still respect them. It's okay. That doesn't threaten our points, since we (theoretically) believe that they are eternal and stronger than any argument we could make.Back in this time, Brandon had only been an author for 3 years, but he won an award for his first published book, Elantris. He was being careful with his words, and his take is considered liberal. He was trying to defend the backlash JK Rowling received for her (poor) choice of virtue signaling and tried to mend this defense with his own religion. Mentioning his religious views is what got him canceled back then, which he later apologized for in 2011:
I cannot be deaf to the pleas of [fairy] couples who want important things, such as hospital visitation rights, shared insurance, and custody rights. At the same time, I accept and sustain the leaders of the LDS church. I believe that a prophet of God has said that widespread legislation to approve [fairy] marriage will bring pain and suffering to all involved.He was not backing down from his religion yet. His goal post moved to the legal ramifications of the US, which are separate from his church(remember, church and state, supposed to be separate in the US), but he was still saying his religion wanted him to oppose people calling it a marriage and having it in churches. This was a second “cancellation” that didn’t go very far, mostly because he was able to use religion as an excuse for his take, with the Christian Cake Packed With Fudge Scandal not happening yet(2018).
Fast forward to 2023, after he hangs out with a bunch of woke youtubers, and we get a new quote from Brandon:
The church’s first prophet, Joseph Smith, famously taught, “I teach them correct principles and they govern themselves.” My current beliefs are where I’ve arrived on my journey, as I attempt to show the love that Jesus Christ taught. I look forward to seeing further changes in the church, and I work to make sure I am helping from within it to create a place that is welcoming of [fairy] people and ideas. I would love, for example, to see the church recognize [fairy] marriage among its members. Both temporally and eternally. I would support ordaining [tinkerbell] men to the priesthood. (And would support the ordination of women, though that is another issue.)That’s interesting. It seems like he made a complete 180 on his stance, claims that he’s always believed this new stance, blames Jesus for this new stance, and then doubles down on this new stance by adding female ordination(becoming a priest and higher) and even Tinkerbells. As time went on, he decided that his religion was totally wrong about fairies, and this 13 year difference means way more than the nearly 200 years Mormonism has been around. I believe a fellow Mormon, Shadversity, would love to have a discussion about how any of this makes sense, but I’m starting to feel that he’s the same way. Who knows if Ethan Van Sciver understands Mormonism as well as Brandon Sanderson does, with how easy it is to manipulate prophecies and reinterpret scripture.
But that’s been the point for a while, right?
Wokeness is here to restructure both historical evidence and even religions, in order to shift cultures and social institutions to obey this progressive change. Words are changed in the dictionary, social “norms” are changed to be updated for a “modern audience”, and postmodernists like Foucault were able to trick college kids into thinking the Greeks were all pixie fairies. Once a critical theorist gets their hands on something with power, their goal is not to keep it as it is. It is to keep it for themselves. This is why you will hear these people say everything is subjective, which is secret code for “Look at me: I’m the captain of reality now.”
But wait, it gets better! Brandon Sanderson continued with:
Back in 2007, I was mostly known only in my community, not to the world at large. The essay, then, was directed at my local community, and was more controversial among them (for being too liberal) than it was controversial to the world at large for being [fairy]phobic. That might surprise you, if you’ve read the excerpts that often float around the internet. This was mostly me trying to encourage other members of the church to be more open and welcoming of [fairy] characters and ideas.You see, he's honored to hear about the life of a bug chaser.
That said, the essay does display the casual bigotry common to people who (like myself) have lived lives where we haven’t had to deal with some of the issues common to the lives of people suffering discrimination. Many of the assertions (such as my view on [fairy] marriage) do not reflect my current stance. After writing it, and interacting with those who found it objectionable–even painful–I came to understand them and their experiences better. Though they did not owe me that honor, they gave it freely.
Brandon cares deeply about the pain he caused to his wallet… I mean the fairies who saw his essay. He was an award winning author back then, he didn’t know it would be a global thing. It was supposed to be only seen by people in Utah, that’s it. This is what we call: bullshit. The woke rely heavily on gaslighting and pretending they’re ignorant of everything, while telling others that they need to learn and understand EVERYTHING about a subject before they are even able to mention it.
He was already big on reddit, he knew all about his fandom, and he knew about his publisher, Tor. The only thing that really changed is that now he is unable to stick to being liberal and he has to present himself as progressive. Why? Well, the new Amazon deal happened recently, and he’s the writer of the series The Wheel of Time. As if Rings of Power wasn’t evidence enough of how Amazon mistreats their properties, Brandon was forced to erase his own past, like Agent J in Men in Black, burning his own hands in the process.
I’m not surprised that he’s woke or even that Christians are falling to this woke inquisition. When I said first wave wokeness, I would like to clarify why it’s the catalyst for all of this stupidity. Wokeness is not of Christian values, but instead a parasite upon Christianity, in the same way Gnosticism and Satanism would be. When Christianity started to allow new sects, and a lot of these were considered valid, the crazy sex cults of the 60s opened the floodgates for a bunch of crazy reinterpretations. It’s the same way as how there are still circles of Christianity that go for flat earth theory or say that dinosaurs don’t exist, with these people usually at the forefront of the home-schooling movement.
It’s not that home-schooling is bad by itself, it’s that bad people use it to then have the good people using it be wrongfully grouped into the same area, in the same way gun-ownership does. This type of bastardization has always been a problem in the US, due to the lack of authority over what makes something categorized as such a thing, thanks to liberalism allowing the freedom to constantly change things. As time went on, this liberalism changed into progressivism, with the key difference being that liberalism is an allowance of change while progressivism is an enforced change. The liberalism of the 1800s allowed the Confederates to claim Christianity approved of their enslavement of black people, by blaming the story of Ham and using scripture to claim it was okay to enslave certain people for generations. We always see this strange cherry-picking of scripture from fake Christians, and this problem has expanded into the Vatican itself with the current and following generations of Popes.
A lot of times, we’ll hear news about how Christians are under attack, a bakery is targeted to expose discrimination, or even where people claim they were banned from twitch for being Christian. But what they get wrong is that they are in the same circle as liberal and progressive Christianity, their openness created this weakness to tourism, and most Christian circles have been taken over in the US since before the 60s. The south has a culture of being liberal, Mormons have a culture of being liberal, protestants are very liberal, all because the US began as a liberal culture in the form of classical liberalism. The libertarian argument is always used by these liberal groups, that changes into the progressive enforcement, and over the years these liberal people get infected by the virus.
Add money to the mix, and we have ourselves an endless chain of liberal minded people falling to wokeness. The “redemption” narrative, along with original sin, from Christianity is currently its main weakness. The appeal to ignorance is another weakness, with people playing skeptic as a snake slithers through the grass. Christianity isn’t the problem by itself, it’s the naivety that comes from blind faith, which then expands into a contradictory blind faith that people are good inside, only to later wonder why everything is changing for the worse when evil people are put in charge. Fantasy stories have been under attack by the woke for quite a while, long before they tried to appropriate Tolkien with Rings of Power.
The fantasy that is controlled by the woke is an extension to their attack on religion, because to them a fantasy story is no different than a bible. Mythological presentation, symbolic themes, a dream-like world to present morals to follow; the entire thing has been used by Brandon to then have him later claim that he’s always had fairy characters since the beginning. Sure, his religion says fairies are bad, but then he virtue signals by claiming he’s always made fiction about how they’re good. He would never say this if the publishing world made sense and if publishers were the way they were in the 1950s. That is because he would never have to choose between religion and money back then, with money always mattering more to the typical materialist.
I’m sure people will say that I’m being hard on Christians, or that I’m evil for saying this, or even that I am a satanist for noticing. These people would only be angry at the truth being said, which is the opposite of what Christianity teaches. Fantasy writers, like Brandon, have a lot of supporters, with this support merging between the woke and Mormons. So many feel that they need to make sense of their fandom, so they claim their religion is wokeness, converting it into blind Satanism. This is far from the truth and we need to condemn those who focus solely on radical subjectivity.
Especially if they blame God for their stupid takes, like how Brandon does now.
2024.05.21 02:05 Formal-Cheesecake-32 easier to replace “she/her” for “he/him” in the lyrics? or just me?
Gah !!! you all are so freakin smart and this is my first time posting anything theoretical on here, so I’m nervous but I just really want to hear your thoughts on this question I have.
As a WLW and Gaylor, I’ve done my best to belt out Taylor’s songs — especially the ones re: romantic entanglements — by replacing male pronouns with female ones just because it makes me happy.
Beyond pronouns, I enjoy changing the themes or simple words in the songs to be about the romantic ups and downs of being with women.
This game has, of course, proven tricky at points — don’t get me started on the shitshow of Mr. Perfectly Fine or how Paper Rings just doesn’t quite work when you replace “baby boy” with “baby girl” (it just sounds….weird?).
Okay so I’ve been doing this through all her eras—and have realized that with Midnights and TTPD (especially TTPD), it’s quite easy to replace the pronouns “he/him” to “she/her” in many of the songs, such as BDILH.
Further, if I can do it once in the song, it seems I can “re-gender” the whole song pretty seamlessly. Ex: Guilty as Sin works well. No more of these Paper Ring outliers where it ALMOST works and then falls apart because of one or two lines.
Many times she doesn’t even use pronouns anymore and makes my little game easy. I love when the song is about humans experiencing one another without gender being the focus. There’s just more “space” for interpretation whether because she relies on second person or just avoids much gendering at all— ie not so comphet heavy. (Love you for this, Taylor!!!!!)
However————yes I hear you! And this is getting to my question!——— we do have to contend with some heavily male-gendered songs on TTPD such as Down Bad (the rhyme scheme doesn’t work — needs “him”), My Boy Only Breaks, I Can Fix Him, and TSMWEL. (Sorry I don’t always f with acronyms as they can brain-hurt me.)
Perhaps my first premise — that she is getting more inclusive— doesn’t hold. But if you think it does, then what should we do with these recent songs that NEED the male-centeredness to make them work?
I can see some themes — maybe the male-centric ones are about men who have betrayed her? Not necessarily romantically but just like the patriarchy? This makes sense of TSMWEL. But I’m not fully satisfied.
What do you all think?
submitted by Formal-Cheesecake-32 to GaylorSwift [link] [comments]
As a WLW and Gaylor, I’ve done my best to belt out Taylor’s songs — especially the ones re: romantic entanglements — by replacing male pronouns with female ones just because it makes me happy.
Beyond pronouns, I enjoy changing the themes or simple words in the songs to be about the romantic ups and downs of being with women.
This game has, of course, proven tricky at points — don’t get me started on the shitshow of Mr. Perfectly Fine or how Paper Rings just doesn’t quite work when you replace “baby boy” with “baby girl” (it just sounds….weird?).
Okay so I’ve been doing this through all her eras—and have realized that with Midnights and TTPD (especially TTPD), it’s quite easy to replace the pronouns “he/him” to “she/her” in many of the songs, such as BDILH.
Further, if I can do it once in the song, it seems I can “re-gender” the whole song pretty seamlessly. Ex: Guilty as Sin works well. No more of these Paper Ring outliers where it ALMOST works and then falls apart because of one or two lines.
Many times she doesn’t even use pronouns anymore and makes my little game easy. I love when the song is about humans experiencing one another without gender being the focus. There’s just more “space” for interpretation whether because she relies on second person or just avoids much gendering at all— ie not so comphet heavy. (Love you for this, Taylor!!!!!)
However————yes I hear you! And this is getting to my question!——— we do have to contend with some heavily male-gendered songs on TTPD such as Down Bad (the rhyme scheme doesn’t work — needs “him”), My Boy Only Breaks, I Can Fix Him, and TSMWEL. (Sorry I don’t always f with acronyms as they can brain-hurt me.)
Perhaps my first premise — that she is getting more inclusive— doesn’t hold. But if you think it does, then what should we do with these recent songs that NEED the male-centeredness to make them work?
I can see some themes — maybe the male-centric ones are about men who have betrayed her? Not necessarily romantically but just like the patriarchy? This makes sense of TSMWEL. But I’m not fully satisfied.
What do you all think?
2024.05.21 00:32 Equivalent-Dress-635 Destinys using the N word
 | (gonna be a long post, if y’all got questions or anything i’m cool wit answering some of em n excuse the way i type idrc to type correctly imma type how i usually do but this my first post here cuz destiny’s the first person to ever pop on my youtube who actually made me watch political shit n his fans seem more level headed then some of these crazy ass disney channel whiney fan bases submitted by Equivalent-Dress-635 to Destiny [link] [comments] but i live n have lived in neighborhoods ig ppl would say “ran by gangs” n gang related areas n alotta my family members r nortenos (i am bot a documented gang member for any law enforcement agents out there) which is a predominantly hispanic gang with other races in it as well from the west coast n in some other states now…n i left a comment on this post sayin how in my personal experience i don’t think that a lot of ppl in the “hood” gaf abt the topic of the n word at all , i kno mexicans,asians n whites in predominant black gangs that use the n word n never once have they been checked n i kno blacks in predominantly asian n mexican gangs who around other races who use the n word n they have never been checked once n no1 cares n it has never been a problem (i kno im not the spokesmen for all minority’s im j givin my personal experience at least on the west coast😂) i also said imo i think majority of this n word purse clutching is made by the most suburban ppl there is , cuz i have never been to any section or area where anyone has ever complained abt it or got upset abt it cuz no1 out here is using it in a racially motivated way…it’s just the vocabulary they grew up around like a product of their environment type of thing… no1s ever told em to stop or said that it’s wrong…obviously if some white dude came thru n just called someone the hard r he’s prlly gnna get packed out but that’s not how it’s used over here n everyone understands that n if anything we are the true definition of racial equality cuz u got hispanics , asians , blacks n even white guys in the same area not gaf abt the word livin hand n hand together 😂 i also agree wit destiny when he says somethin along the lines of he doesn’t sound right or fluent when he says it so it sounds wrong or somethin cuz that’s fasho how it is…if some in our opinion square lookin guy walked up n was like “wassup my n word” n it sounded weird he’d be looked at crazy but if it’s someone who looks like i guess ppl would say more hood n he said it all fluently it would be regular 😂 n the craziest part is when i commented my experience abt it i immediatley got reply’s saying i’m a youtube comment bot that’s paid by destiny n the same ppl that advocate for minorities voices to be heard were tryna shut me down n not even engage in what i said n just tell me i’m lyin cuz my experience doesn’t back up however they thought it went in the quote on quote ghettos n they think my black homies r just foaming out their mouths with anger when they hear the n word if anything they seem more racist imo pretty much tellin me to stfu cuz i didn’t give a minority perspective that makes em feel better abt their views but anyway i could go on but i ain’t gnna rant too much j givin MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCE |