#i physically cannot handle when i draw him differently out of nowhere

[laineystein]

“This is new.”

The Boy™️ and I went out for his birthday on Thursday night. His favorite restaurant happens to be close to where we both grew up so we drove through the same neighborhoods that raised us - streets we walked to get to school or back and forth from the houses we grew up in. Of course, we ran into three separate people we knew. This seems to be a trend lately. It’s like our past, every little detail we’ve been so good at keeping hidden, keeps rearing its head, demanding to be dealt with. One of the people we ran into was a teacher we both had in yeshiva and they commented “oh, this is new!” And we both smiled and laughed and wished them a good shabbat. We didn’t talk about it then but we spent Shabbos together – alone – and we spent most of the night unpacking all of it.  

 This wasn’t the first time we’d heard it. It’s all anyone seems to say lately. When I had a ride to the airport at 4am and my mother strong-armed me into admitting who it was she said “oh, that’s new”. When his Modox parents were a bit passive-agressive toward me earlier in the summer because suddenly I was *everywhere*, I finally got his mother to admit that she worried about our relationship simply because it “came out of nowhere”…because “it’s new” and a lot of our “decisions seem impulsive.”

  No. This isn’t new. We’re not new. Our relationship is 15 years old. This has been a thing - many things, actually - for a decade and a half. I have been in love with this man for half of my life but to the world, even the people we love the most, yes - this is new. And I can’t argue with them. We don’t. We have no idea how to handle this. 

  We were fifteen and sixteen. Simply put - being a teenager means being young and dumb and somehow being terrified and craving happiness in equal amounts. He was (is) my best friend’s brother and they’re extremely close. On top of that, he’s Modox and I wasn’t and am not. His family never treated me differently, even when other families did - especially early on at yeshiva when it was very clear that I was raised differently than most of my classmates. But I loved them and they loved me. They loved me as their daughter’s best friend. It didn’t make sense to explain that I was more than that with their son - especially because we didn’t know what that was. 

We were teenagers! We were intense and fearless and manic and we were absolutely terrified of letting anyone down. We’re both the first born in our immigrant Jewish families. There has always been so much pressure on each of us to be the best - the smartest, the most hardworking. For him - the most devout. We both had to marry well and have big Jewish families. We were the product of generations of trauma - children and grandchildren of families that had consistently escaped persecution and now we were seemingly well adjusted teenagers in America, finally free to live the lives everyone who came before us fought so hard for. It was a lot of pressure, all the time. But together? No pressure. The things I struggled to tell his sister - how much I hated my yeshiva uniform, how marriage and children weren’t in the forefront of my mind yet…everything I couldn’t tell anyone else in the world, I told The Boy™️.

That’s where the name comes from - and those of you who used to follow my studyblr know I talked about him often. I never talked about him by name. His sister always thought I had someone in Israel that I had this big crush on. And I did. When he was in Israel with me I had a huge crush on him. But I loved him in Brooklyn too. I loved him when we traveled to France and Amsterdam and Italy. I spent four out of my five IDF civilians (time off from the military) with him and no one knew. We have lived so many lives together. We’ve experienced so many things, side by side, and no one had any clue. And we watched each other love other people and try to make it work with people that weren’t us. But ultimately he was the one who helped me through breakups and med school. He was the person that literally saved my life in 2020 when my shifts at the hospital during COVID had me so mentally and physically exhausted that I could barely get out of bed…literally. Then when things calmed down I realized, it didn’t matter what was going on in the world, he’s always been my biggest supporter and I cannot and will not live without him and the fact that we weren’t sharing this thing that made us both so undeniably happy just felt ridiculous and unfair.

But we didn’t know how to even explain everything so we kind of…didn’t? It was never “this is my best friend and we’re in love” it was “I’m going to Israel and he’s coming too”. We alternated Shabbos between his parents’ house and mine. All the while everyone is hesitant, almost nervous - this is new, this is new, this is new. It’s not new. But this is the first time we’re admitting how we feel and what we are to the people we love. He’s not just my friend’s brother. He’s not even just my best friend or my boyfriend. He’s the man I want to marry and have a family with. I get why our families are so confused. They have no idea all we’ve done and how so many of the things they celebrate in us - our jobs, our successes, our faith - is because of the other.

  So we have to start being honest. They’ll never truly get it if they can’t see how deep it is, if they can’t acknowledge the history. But how do we explain it? We are who we are because once upon a time we were both really struggling with our faith. We thought we were terrible Jews because we didn’t want the things our parents wanted. I didn’t believe in tzniut. Some days he didn’t either. We were doing things we were told kids in yeshiva don’t do! We were having sex and smoking weed and going to bars in the city because we could. But it wasn’t about being a part of the goy world. We didn’t want that. We just wanted to be who we were in the Jewish world and we had no idea how to do that. For so long it felt like it was us against the world - Jewish and gentle. We didn’t fit in with either but we could be who we wanted to be, together, in this weird in-between. He’s safety. He always has been. When I have a thought and I know no one in the world will understand it, I know he’s the exception. We always felt like we were judged, even inadvertently by people who swore they were being open minded and supportive, but together that was never a worry. So how do we explain that? 

We don’t. We won’t. We need to be honest about some things: about how far our friendship goes back, about the depth of it - then and now. Everyone else is free to make their own assumptions. They can draw their own conclusions or they can just learn to accept us as we are now. The weird part is that everyone has been much more accepting than we imagined - especially his sister. She loves our relationship so much, to the point that we feel bad for keeping it from her for so long. But we don’t know if we’d be who we are now if we hadn’t lived this other life together. We weren’t wrong. Having this one thing in life that is untouched by the world was magical. We still have days where we miss it, especially now as questions of marriage and children flood in. But we’ve agreed that we’ll be honest with our children. All of it. 

I guess a lot of this for us wasn’t just about *us* but about who each of us are as people. We’ve always worn so many labels. We’re completely opposites but we have fundamental similarities. We both love being Jewish. We’re loud and proud, unapologetic Jews. But we weren’t always! And the secret nature of our relationship aside, that’s what’s the most difficult for us to acknowledge publicly - myself in particular. I get a lot of that - often from many of you. I am so so honored that where I am with my faith today, at 31, is something so many of you admire. I can’t even begin to explain to you how much that means to me. But I guess it’s important to note that this was a journey. I was a mess. I always loved being a Jew but for several years I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t know that I had the power to write my own narrative and live my life as a Jew on my own terms. The strength and confidence you see now is because all of the bullshit I went through before. Even now I am constantly learning. Every day I become more and more secure in my role as a Jewish woman, now that I can define what that means for me. 

And that’s all I want for any of you! Live your Jewish truth! We are all products of so much hardship. We really do deserve to be the best version of ourselves. We deserve happiness and security in our relationships, in our careers, in every aspect of life possible. And if you’re not there yet - if you wake up wondering where you fit into the Tribe, that’s okay! You will get there! Being a Jew is a super power!!! You just need to figure out how to be a Jew in a way that makes the most sense to you. There truly is no one way to be a Jew - no wrong way to be a Jew. Being a Jew, in any capacity, makes you an awesome Jew. I wish I had someone to tell me that but I didn’t. It took me many years to be where I am now. So for anyone who needs to hear it: you’re an awesome Jew and I’m so proud of you! 

#blog-ish things #Jew things #the boy™️ #personal #about me #this was kind of all over the place so if you read it...apologies but also thanks? #I tried to make sense but it's a mess because at one point in my life I was a mess and some days I'm still a mess AND THAT'S OKAY! #anyway. you're all wonderful. I hope you're enjoying your weekends!

[hoodedwing]

Sleep, Red Bucket

Summary: Tim and Jason work together on a case. Just that, Jason had a hard week and maybe just 3-4 hours of sleep. 

Characters: Jason, Tim, Alfred (mentions), Avalanche (no, not from X-men. It’s an original enemy for a man named Snow here)

Warnings: Child drug rings, Drugs, Wild night terrors, Unconscious self-harm, Vomiting, Blood, Injuries, Swearing,

Additional Notes: I used way too much references from The Crown and this is a sickfic

Word Count: 2,233 words

***

Tim stretches a little from where he's sitting on the couch, running his hand through ebony locks as he tapped away on his laptop. He was secretly glad that he managed to sneak out of the Manor, after being ratted out by Jason for not sleeping. He had barely escaped after being coddled by Dick (that man in spandex sure can hug) and hovered over by Alfred. Sighing contently, he closed the webpage he was on and gave a quick glance at the clock.

It was still eleven, nearing towards twelve actually. He knit his eyebrows in slight annoyance, Red Hood and him had arranged to meet at twelve and he wasn't here yet. Tim assumed Jason probably had a run in with some bitch of a gang or seeing the  kids or whatever he does at Crime Alley. He had long learnt not to touch that area, last time saw him with a batarang held against his throat.

Ironic for someone proclaiming to hate Batman. Tim snorted.

He was well into his thought loop when he heard the sound of metal against his window. Tim's head shot up and he hastily grabbed his bo-staff laying on the couch opposite him. Silently, he crept towards the curtains and laid to wait. The sound grew louder and he heard irritated whispers or the wind, he couldn't exactly pinpoint.

The window opened and Tim nearly smashed the intruder's head from behind when he heard a panicked yell.

"The fuck?!"

Tim breathed a little before yelling back. Oh thank fuck, its Jason only.

"And you couldn't use the damn door like any other human?"

Jason allowed a snort to escape before walking resolutely  to the couch where he sat down rather heavily and let out a small sigh.

"I died, I'm technically not human or I mean does that count?"

Tim rolls his eyes and settles back on the couch where Jason was laying stretched rather lazily and flipping through the case files, with his hood still on.

"So, as far as I know. Snow has multiple bases in Bludhaven. Wonder how Dickface hasn't run into him yet."

"Dick knows him as Avalanche. That's what he calls himself. Different street names."

"He'll fall eventually."

Tim almost laughs but he cannot exactly tell if Jason was joking or just plaintively didn't give two fucks. It also sounded a tad more tired.

"Mhm. Anyways, his largest base is pretty near your territory. I think you know it like the back of your hand."

He offers tentatively, trying to rebalance the edge of tension in the room.

"Yeah. Got it."

"Do you need-"

"No. He's on my turf. I get to take him out."

Jason takes slightly longer than he does to get up.  Tim sees it but doesn't call him out on it. He really doesn't want another stab mark. he watches Jason climb out of the window.

"Oh and Jason?"

Jason turns, in zero mood right now because the small throbbing in his head has grown a little.

"What?!"

"Get some shut-eye."

He scoffs and leaves.

—

Some hours in, Tim decided he wanted coffee so he gets up to go make himself.

He hears a faint rustle and pin drop silence. He quietly grabs the dang bo-staff again. As he creeps along the rooms, he hears the sound getting louder. It sounded like someone was having trouble.

He almost shits himself when he sees Red Hood asleep. In his apartment.

Tim narrows his eyes and does a quick surveillance of Jason's things. He sees empty cartridges and shell casings lying at his feet

The only physical response was Jason's head tilting at an angle and soft snores filtered by the Hood.

Huh, he's back and asleep. Already?

"Jason?"

Tim raised an eyebrow at Jason.

"Mm?"

"Oh good. Just checking if you're alive."

Jason turned on himself, curling his legs under himself.

"Al'wys am, Replac'ment. F'k off. Lemme sleep."

Tim frowned slightly as he inched his hands towards the hood but a gloved hand comes out of nowhere and squeezes Tim's wrist tightly who now lets out a yelp.

-

Tim pours the coffee but the thoughts of Jason doesn't leave his mind. Something wasn't so right about Jason. But then, nothing was ever right with Jason.

Was he bleeding? He did return late from whatever he was up to. He did slur his dreaded nickname. He refused to take off his hood. Was he sick? Did he eat?

He hears a loud scream that interrupts his second thought loop of the night. Tim almost spills the coffee on himself and half stumbles-half runs to the source.

Jason.

"J..Jason?"

Erratic breathing greeted him. Tim steels himself as he nimbly types the correct combination and takes the hood off against Jason's order. He isn't about to let someone die in his apartment.

Why does everything have to end up so damn difficult?

Tim barely glances at Jason as he shakes him.

"Jason. Shh. Jason?"

Jason doesn't comply, the thrashing increases in intensity as he yells his throat raw. He claws his forearms, scratching the scarred skin in nightmare-delirium. He manages to draw blood which gently falls onto the white couch, turning the area into a crime scene wildly in contrast to the source of blood. His eyes were tightly shut, thick black lashes glued to his sweat covered cheeks

Tim restrains Jason, tries to grab his hands but he manages to fucking fling Tim across the table. He crashes at the bookshelf, wincing when his arm whacks against a particularly thick encyclopedia.

Ah, he thought, the pain of knowledge.

He quickly gathers himself and sees Jason thrashing on the couch, whimpering like a wounded animal.

"What the fuck. Jason? Can..can you hear me?"

The whimpers alternate into raw screaming, it leaves Tim's heart cold and skin prickled. He doesn't have to know what Jason is thinking. He needs to snap the nightmare loop before he decided his throat was next and he-

Focus, Tim.

Tim rummages everywhere in the apartment, heartbeat loud in his ears. He knows it was best to wait it out but it was almost like it was a loop. He spots a whistle, one from the Charity Games Bruce hosted. Yeah, he remembered that one pretty well. Grayson won the race and he blew the whistle right in his face. Jason laughed and Barbara poked fun at him later on it.

He quickly blows the whistle at Jason who shot up with a frightening velocity. Tim literally held Jason down, stunned into silence.

"Jason?"

He only pinched his nose-bridge, other hand clenching the couch tightly.

"Do you want water?"

"No"

He barely croaked, turning on himself like a wounded animal.

Tim fetches a glass anyway. He also brought some bandages to wrap his forearms. Quietly, he does so, rubbing alcohol into it alternated with small flinches. When the procedure was done, Tim stepped back a little.

Jason turned on himself again, shaking. His eyebrows were drawn in pain, breaths almost wheezing. His face was now alarmingly pale and eyebags almost like bruises cover below his tired eyes

Tim didn't know what to say to him. Jason might shoot down all chances to talk about it.

"I'm going to take your temperature, is that okay?"

No answer.

Tim awkwardly fumbles around, he needed distraction to come up with a way to talk about it. There was no way he was leaving Jason in that terrifying loop he saw.

He knew he had the latest state-of-the-art thermometer that took temperatures in seconds but he chose the mercury one to buy time he needed to calm himself. He returns back to Jason who sat up again, hand resting under his chin.

"I'm not sick."

A whisper barely above the rattling of the heater.

"I still need to check, I haven't ruled out fever dream. You look like shit."

"Course."

Jason lets Tim do it as he quietly counts to the 180th second. Tim removes it and sees it at 96.

"That's cold."

"Anemic."

"Oh, that wasn't in your files. I'll add that in later."

Jason lies down again and his eyes flutter closed. Tim properly gives Jason a onceover, he looked almost vulnerable underneath the glinting armor.

"You haven't eaten, have you?"

His eyes open slightly again, eyes squinting at Tim's undisguised worry.

"Won't stay down."

Tim bit his lip. This was bad.

"Can you handle some soup?"

"Try to, can't promise."

Tim gets up to reheat the soup Alfred left for him two nights ago but something in him nags to not leave Jason alone with his thoughts. He puts on The Crown and unpaused at where Queen Elizabeth hears about Jackie Kennedy's unflattering comments about her.

Tim quickly takes the soup out and shoves it in the microwave. His work could wait another day or two. He had checked the camera feeds momentarily and saw zero sign of the target.

The microwave beeped and he takes it out, carefully pouring into two bowls and bringing it to the living room where he now sees Elizabeth doing the foxtrot.

Tim places the soup at the table and gives one to Jason who cradles one in his arms, eyes unseeing at the television. Tim carefully watches Jason's face. His cheekbones had hollowed slightly and were clenched. Probably an aftereffect defense mechanism. Tim thinks.

"Do you feel like throwing up again?"

An imperceptible shake as his eyes glue at Philip yell at Charles while dangerously maneuvering the plane with tears streaking down Charles' face. Tim sees something momentarily shift in Jason at dad yelling at son.

Oh shit, trigger, trigger, trigger.

Tim abruptly switches off the television. This time, Jason properly turns at Tim.

"Why?"

Tim narrowed his eyes.

"Its..nothing, Jason. Not letting you go through that hell I saw."

"Funny you say that, been happening for two weeks straight."

Jason spits it with vitriol. Tim physically feels the force of the words. Biting, cold, hard. He moves back, as if the force displaced him. How the hell did Jason still have enough strength to do that? a half of Tim wondered.

He tried to open his mouth but settled to stretching his lips into a thin line.

"I said don't-"

"I'm not about to fucking ask or clarify anything remotely related to what just transpired. Listen to me carefully, all I want to know is whether you're sleeping enough. Yes or no?"

Tim hissed, chin dipping down with practiced ease. Jason seemingly curls onto himself more before grumbling, this time lacking the usual bite.

"Three in four days. Fuckers won't stop fucking recruiting kids on my territory to sell drugs. The hell am I supposed to do? Sleep while the kids get roped in a sick fuck of a game?"

Tim nods in understanding, clearly regretting his outburst. He watches Jason sag heavily against the couch and tip his head back. His eyes were pinched shut this time with his jaw tightening with more of the earlier tension Tim noted. He laid a hand on Jason's temple and carefully, he inched his hand throughout his head, warm fingers making their way through. He hears small sighs of relief when he reaches the sides. Tim slowly maneuvers Jason onto his lap and continues to stroke his sweaty bangs. Jason only winces again at the bright, florescent lights

"Headache?"

"Mhm."

He turns on himself, groaning quietly. he places an arm over his eyes. Tim continues to massage his temples, rubbing reassuring circles.

"How bad?"

"..."

"Want painkillers?"

Jason shakes his head, lights glaring in his eyes and everything spinning.

"Hate..meds. You know..that."

Tim seemed to consider that but got off the couch.

"Be right back, I'll dim the lights."

Jason almost whimpers again at the lack of heat of Tim's fingers as the dull throbbing increased and pounded behind his eyes. Jason wished he could will the damn thing to stop, if he could only sleep it away without the fucking nightmares. He curled on himself for the umpteenth time that night, wishing he was dead again.

He feels a dip in the couch and then firm fingers return, pressing hard. Jason gasped out.

"T..Tim."

"Sorry. Is this better?"

Tim apologetically whispers as he decreases the pressure against the wild throbbing. Jason silently hummed in agreement and leaned into the touches.

"Sorry, I overstayed.. I should go."

"You would, if you slept enough. How many hours did you get just yesterday alone?"

"Got here right after the run-in with Snow and be'fre was the druggists."

Tim narrowed his eyes while Jason closes his, worn out by the small conversation.

“What about you?”

He smiles a little at that, always caring about someone else before himself.

"Alfred made me sleep two nights ago at the Manor. I hid out here to find that intel."

"T'hts n'ce."

Tim places his hand on Jason's shoulder and watches as Jason's breathing evens out into soft snores. He threw on a blanket and quietly took his laptop to begin work, the soft blue glow illuminating the room.

“Tim?”

Jason sleepily opens one eye to where Tim settled down with his laptop. He motions Tim to join him who hesitates before lying down beside him. He presses a quick kiss on Jason’s forehead before adjusting himself under Jason’s neck. Jason only let a small hum of approval before encircling Tim with a soft hug.

“G’night.”

#dc #red hood #jason todd #jason peter todd #red robin #timothy jackson drake #tim drake #tim #jason #hugs #vomit warning #blood tw #vomit tw #drugs tw #mentions of drugs #drug mention #sleep deprived af #sleep deprivation #they need self-preservation #hoodedwing #reblog #alfred pennyworth #alfred #angsty #but more fluff #hurt/comfort #hurt #not incest #its brothers

[hellzyeahwebwielingessays]

The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 21: MJ is more vulnerable than Spider-Man

Previous Part

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Master Post

Last time I dissected notable times where MJ had to defend her self and others. That dissection defined the limitations in MJ’s abilities to fend off assailants. This time we are going to take a brief tangent and hold Spider-Man himself to similar scrutiny.

At first glance, a counter to part 20’s conclusions are that a double standard is in play between MJ and Spider-Man

How many times has luck saved him?

How many times has arming himself or exploiting a resource meant the difference between life and death?

How many times has he  gone up against superior numbers or needed help to save the day? Heck, sometimes it’s MJ herself who helped save Peter’s life.

The problem though is that this comparison is kinda…disingenuous..

The key reason lies in the difference between Mary Jane and Peter’s comparative skills, abilities and experiences.

Spider-Man possesses…

natural abilities

reliable access to equipment and resources

years of experience

…that give him natural advantages over any non-powered civilian in dangerous situations.

He is physically more powerful than any normal human being. 

It’s not even that he can just do anything a normal human could theoretically do but better. That is to say, it’s not just that he can lift more, sprint faster, perform better acrobatics and heal faster than a normal human being. 

His powers simply transcend the capabilities of the normal human body. No normal human being can adhere to walls. No normal human being has a precognitive sense of almost any and all kinds of danger, whether it’s a holstered  gun or some spoiled food.

Additionally the vast majority of human beings lack Peter’s scientific acumen (which does  play into combat conditions a lot of the time) as well as his (relatively) unique web-shooters. He is also witty and adept at strategic thinking, most famously employing humour to throw opponents off opening up exploitable opportunities in battle.

Peter’s skills, abilities and equipment have been further enhanced through over ten years of on-the-job experience. This has given him athletic levels of muscle memory in combat and even developed his body to the point where he is incredibly fit even when his powers are removed, as witnessed in ASM #341.

All this taken collectively means that Spider-Man is incredibly formidable fighter for almost any individual or group, be they super powered or otherwise.**

Nine times out of ten he has the options of:

Tricking/outthinking his opponents

Wearing them out

Surviving many attacks lethal to normal people, enabling him to either find an opening later or save civilians

Simply physically subduing them with his body or webbing

Rendering them unconscious (or technically even killing) them with his strength***

Using his scientific acumen to outright invent a solution to a dangerous problem. This can include modified versions of his webbing tailored to an opponent’s weakness

Turning groups against one another

Disarming them

Intimidating them

Getting inside their head

Spidey cannot simply pick any one of these options against any opponent. But the number of options available to him means that he has a high probability of at least one of them working.

It also means he has a pretty good chance of success against a wide variety of opponents, even if they have an edge over him in one or more capacities.

Using his resourcefulness and scientific intellect, he has defeated Morlun multiple times despite him having vastly superior strength and durability than Spider-Man himself.

His fighting skills are such that he can hold his own against Captain America who’s generally more experienced than Spider-Man and a superior hand-to-hand fighter and strategist.

He’s defeated a whole group of the X-Men, whose experience, teamwork, raw power and diverse abilities make them incredibly formidable.

His fighting prowess is such that he was unable to be defeated by a similarly diverse group of heroes known as the New Warriors. Whilst the New Warriors are not the measure of the X-Men what made this impressive was that (due to mind control) Spider-Man was actively trying to let them win.

Even so, there are people very much out of Spider-Man’s league. For example, Spider-Man does not usually pick fights with Magneto, Mephisto, Ultron or Galactus. He rationally understands that he would have no hope of defeating such people and leaves them to better suited heroes like the X-Men, Doctor Strange, the Fantastic Four and the Avengers.

Spider-Man is not stupid, arrogant nor self-destructive. Like MJ, he is aware of his limitations; although he does at times underestimate himself. If he regards a threat as out of his league, even one more directly connected to himself, he knows to seek help. This is exemplified in ASM #361 after he has proven incapable of defeating Carnage on his own. He tries to call the Avengers or F4 for help but they are unavailable, forcing Spidey to team up with Venom.

Hmm, up against dangerous overwhelmingly odds and calling for help? Could this perhaps be something Mary Jane should consider in AMJ?

Only when he has no other options does Spidey chosen to fight people he doesn’t believe he has much (if any) chance of beating.

A classic example of this is ASM #269 when Firelord tried to kill him. 

For context Firelord is a former Herald of Galactus, putting him relatively close to the power level of cosmically empowered beings like the Silver Surfer and Thor.

Peter tried to find the Fantastic Four, who had experience dealing with Galactus and his Heralds. 

En route he even mentioned how the Avengers were better suited to handling guys like Firelord compared to himself. 

Unfortunately the F4 were completely unavailable. 

Peter considers going to the Avengers but realises with Firelord speed he’d be unable to reach them in time. Briefly, Peter considers simply changing into Peter Parker and avoiding Firelord altogether. However, his sense of responsibility compels him to fight in case Firelord hurts someone in his search for Spidey.

Thus Peter resolves to defeat someone who seems to outmatch him. 

But now let’s compare all this to Mary Jane.

MJ is certainly smart and resourceful. This then means she can outthink her opponents and get inside their heads as Spider-Man does at times.

But like I said above, Spidey has many more options than just those ones.

MJ lacks Peter’s specific scientific acumen, which limits her abilities to draw upon that to mitigate dangers. She cannot for instance invent a gadget or chemical tailored to a specific problem. There might even be viable solutions to a problem in the heat of the moment she is unaware of because you’d need a college degree in bio-chem to realise them.

Regardless of sex or gender, as a normal human Mary Jane is simply less capable of surviving physical attacks compared to Spider-Man.

She cannot move nearly as fast as him, nor even as fast as normal yet trained heroes.

Her strength level is average for someone of her height and build.

She usually doesn’t have access to unique weapons like web-shooters, nor even regular firearms (not that these are usually effective against super villains). Even if she were to have a set in her possession her ability to use them would be limited because she doesn’t know how to create or maintain them. Were they to be damaged, lost or run out of web-fluid she would need to turn to a third party to get them working again. In contrast Peter could create web-shooters from scratch with fairly limited resources.

And were MJ to have web-shooters she cannot optimise their use because she doesn’t have Peter’s other powers. She cannot combine strength, agility, wall-crawling and spider sense to bounce around a room, swing across a rooftop or even fire off rapid and highly accurate shots at opponents.

She doesn’t even have a mere precognitive danger sense, the single most useful power when dealing with Mysterio.

And her muscle memory, her battle instinct if you will, are pretty impressive but nowhere near to the levels of Spider-Man’s or most super heroes. MJ’s action amidst danger is not even half as regular as Peter’s. Peter has dealt with at least small-scale criminals for the vast majority of his adult life. It’s the difference between someone who plays a sport on every weekend for five years vs. someone who has played that sport practically every day for 10 years. The latter’s instincts and reactions are simply going to be better than the former’s.

Basically, unless there are very specific extenuating circumstances, Peter Parker enters into any situation objectively  safer than Mary Jane.

He has objectively  greater chances of surviving and ensuring the survival of others than she does. That would hold true even if Mary Jane is armed with a gun and is mentally prepared for what was to come.

In most dangerous situations Peter is highly likely  to be ‘punching down’ whilst MJ would be ‘punching up’.

This doesn’t mean he’s guaranteed of victory at all, but when it comes to dealing with criminals or super villains his chances are reliably  high  whilst MJ’s are far less reliable.

And those chances, that reliability? It’s mostly internal, a hardwired aspect of his very being .

Outside of exceptional circumstances his powers, experience and intelligence can’t be taken away from him. He will always be armed with that stuff no matter where he is. Even his web-shooters are tools he invented from (expensive yet) easily obtained resources and they are not strictly essential to his combat abilities. Were he to find himself without them amidst most dangerous situations, his chances for protecting himself and others wouldn’t be close to nil by any means and he could simply recreate them with time.

These skills mean he’s only intermittently reliant upon others in combat situations. Usually he could get himself or others to safety or diffuse most threats that crop up. Similarly his need of luck is greatly reduced. Of course luck has often saved his bacon but it hasn’t been a near systemic requirement. Even in his early career neither luck nor assistance played much (if any) role in his initial victories over the Vulture, Doctor Octopus, the Scorpion and many other opponents.

Mary Jane in contrast lacks  these internal skills. She has other  internal skills that can aid her and prove invaluable, but they don’t amount to reliably giving her a chance in the majority of combat situations. Not without external factors (luck, assistance, etc.) aiding her. As we discussed in the prior instalment, that’s actually how she has endured the majority of hazardous encounters in her time.

To use the sports analogy again, Peter would be a professional NBA player who is at least proficient in all positions on the court and Mary Jane would be an amateur player who practices on the weekend but only in one or two positions. Peter could go up against at least a large number of other players and stand a reasonable chance and possibly carry the team over all.

But for Mary Jane to stand a fair chance she’d need a lot more things to go her way. The right opponent(s), the right opportunities presenting themselves, the right amount of support from her team mates etc. The fact that she’s played a few games and held her own, even won some outright, is a testament to her inner talent. But as a basketball player she’s just not on the same level as Peter, or Black Widow or She-Hulk or Wonder Woman.

With all that context dispensed with let’s move onto a bigger question.

Given MJ’s abilities and combat history is she capable of preventing Mysterio and his cronies from harming her self and others?

*In fact Spider-Man has tended to fight more effectively against groups of opponents as his speed enables him to move between them and use his opponents against one another.

This is partially due to the fact that Spider-Man’s skills in tandem give him an incredibly unique fighting style that no one without his powers can possibly replicate.

**It should be noted that Spider-Man typically restrains his strength on a conscious and unconscious level. He knowingly adjusts the amount of force he applies depending upon his opponents but he also restrains himself without realizing it. The result is that the depth of Spider-Man’s  strength level is often surprising for him and his enemies. This is exemplified in ASM #700, when Doctor Octopus in Spider-Man’s body accidentally punches off the jaw of the Scorpion, someone who was designed to have superior strength to Spider-Man. Doc Ock himself is shocked to realize just how much Spider-Man held back.

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#Spider-Man #Mysterio #Peter Parker #mjwatsonedit #mary jane watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker #MJ Watson #Quentin Beck #Leah Williams #Amazing Mary Jane #Captain America #Steve Rogers #Firelord #Avengers #Fantastic Four #Scorpion #Superior Spider-Man #Mac Gargan #Doc Ock #otto octavius #Doctor Octopus #Morlun #X-Men #Carnage #Venom #New Warriors #Carnage Symbiote #Venom Symbiote

[readbythestarlight]

c2e88

Taliesin is so confused by this ad lol

Where is Laura?

The groans xD

Laura's?? Not here?? I mean I'm glad she's at the game awards but THIS IS SUCH A BIG WEEK STORY WISE

Boy we've just started and I'm already ready to die

[[MORE]]

I only just caught it just now but are the CA saying they recovered the beacon that was stolen? Aka the one the M9 returned to Xhorhas already? Or a different one?

The Bright Queen gave them a house and the best the empire can do is a cozy inn? Lame.

(I was always more pro-Dynasty than Empire but it's pretty much set now.)

Didn't even pay for their dinner?? Rude.

Cad: "I've had to learn new words for what happens to me now."

The Dynasty: "We cannot afford to 100% trust you but you have done us a great service so here is a house and a symbol to show you have the favor of our Queen."

The Empire: "You did us a great service but also fuck you here's a hotel and no meal and also if you don't do this thing for us we'll charge you as traitors even though only two of you are actually from the Empire."

lol the hotel workers are funny tho

Empire people? Cool. Empire rules? Fucking suck.

Nat20 for free stuff xD

F: "who's the grossest?"

Cad: "I was swallowed."

Y: "I haven't had a shower in months."

F: "oh! God! What!?"

Cad: "You've won first place."

Y: "Oh, no, I wasn't trying to like..."

J: "IM GOING FIRST!"

I'm worried about Caleb

Snuggling his cat and thinking over his trauma </3

Laura just left the awards show omg

Also the way that Travis looked at her like heart eyes and Laura being like "hey baby ;)"

She looks hot by the way

Yasha paying Fjord back from MONTHS ago is sweeeeet

The book? What's the book? I don't remember?

"Is there a chair...?"

"There is."

"Kill it with fire!"

Oh boy here we go

"And I think we need to work with him...?" I don't like that and I don't think you do he's a liar and a manipulator and a piece of shit

But I understand his point because they are in the worst potion right now

Cad: "if he even looks at you sideways we will not leave enough of him to be found."

Goddamn Caduceus. I love him so much.

Cad: "Well, what I mean was we will do all we can to keep you safe. Is... what I meant."

They're being very serious about this and I'm so glad

Well okay they WERE being serious...

Lol Beau with this teenager is so funny and adorable

I'm glad they're not all sleeping alone

Jester is all sad that Beau doesn't want to double up :(

The B/J/Y shippers just went wild lol

F to C: "if you want to finish this personally... let me know." Thank you Fjord

My old Widofjord shipping heart is happy

Omg Cad handing over the symbol of the Wildmom and telling Fjord he's doing well on his own IM HAVING A LOT OF FEELINGS TONIGHT Y'ALL

Oh boy Yasha dream

I'm emotional

Like crying

Sure this guy does something neat with doors but doES HE FLOAT??

I miss Essek

The only mage with a tower I trust is Yussah and it is NOT this guy

Of course Trent is the one who confirmed it had been found

It's definitely trapped somehow

I don't like that they have to go somewhere that Trent decides

WHISPERS

he's a shifty fucker right we all know he is

Double whispers

Lol meeting in the Happy Fun Ball

I was gonna say the Forge

Jester wants to have it at Traveler con xD

Jester is weirding him out and I love it

God sure have this very serious possibly war ending meeting on The Ball Eater sure

They're disasters

I can't decide how I feel about him and I want to hear the results of the whispers

Oh no I'm worried about Yasha

Okay... so he's helping hide Yasha that's good, but is he also gonna hold that over them?

I hope Trent looks at Caleb sideways so the M9 can cut him into pieces

I feel like this guy is meant to be the Empire version of Essek but he's got nothing on Hot Boi

In a dense forest under a bunch of trees and a tower in the middle of nowhere

Oh fuck the sanitorium oh god oh fuck someone immediately check on Caleb

Trent did that on purpose

Hey Cad remember when you said y'all were gonna tear Trent apart if he tried to hurt Caleb? It's time to start ripping.

I haaaaaate this

I'm still trying to decide if Caleb legitimately snapped or if something was done to him

I want to crawl through my screen and strangle Trent myself

Someone please stay between Caleb and Trent at all times

So... nobody in the empire questions why Trent Ick-athon has a laboratory in a sanitorium huh. Like that doesn't ring any bells?

Also fuck it's Edowulf

Astrid's gonna come in to try and throw Caleb off isnt she

Liar liar pants on fire every word out of your mouth is a lie you vile don't of a biiiitch

WHISPERSSSS

he's a liar liar liar

Or he's telling half the truth

So the tripod... prevents it from working?

God he's such a condescending fuck I hate him

I haaaaate him and I hate that he's playing it so cool and calm because that makes Caleb seem like the unreasonable one which is brilliant of him but it just makes me loathe him even more

Oh god Caleb please roll well

Fuck fuck fuck I hate him fuck someone GET BETWEEN THEM

I feel gross and I'm not even in the room with Trent ugh

This tense standoff between Caleb and Trent is physically fucking me up my skin is crawling

Also Nott touched it and nothing happened

Eowulf is one of Trent's "favorite" and and he's looking at Caleb like a creep

Even if I don't trust him I appreciate Ludinus stepping in to cut the tension

Beau trying to trip him upppppp I love her

Alright time to get them out of there Ludinus

Shut the fuck up Trent you state away from both Caleb AND Yasha

C: "Wulf. It's good to see you again."

Eowulf: "it's good to see you too. It's been some time. You look good."

I haaaaaaaaate that they're all being so calm and semi-friendly because again it makes Trent and his ilk look like the reasonable ones

Ludinus: "I can always deal with Trent after the fact."

Y: "Let us know when you do that. We would like to help." Damn fucking straight

Essek scrys because he's worried about them and he pops in just in time to hear Jester insulting his teleporting Lol

I get the feeling Matt is tweaking the time of Traveler Con a bit because he doesn't want Jester to feel pressured to interrupt important things

Is the Wildmom illegal in the Empire?

Ha Fjord impressed Ludinus nice

L: "it's... entirely off-putting how disarmingly charming you are. I don't know how to handle it." That is the funniest thing anyone has ever said about Jester

J: "are you alright Caleb?"

C: "I don't know."

Y: "I don't like him at all."

Everyone else: "same/oh god no."

Okay Wildmom is illegal time to hide your shiny thing

Cad: "I have never seen another person walk so daintily around the truth."

See every time Caleb talks about how Trent gave "private lessons" my skin crawls it just draws too many parallels to creepy creepy shit

Yasha is gonna be good for Caleb here, they both understand what it's like to be used and controlled and manipulated

So like Trent was THERE and if he saw that Caleb knew about the beacons then he's gonna know that somehow they were involved with the beacon disappearing

Oh she's creepy

Cad gonna buy the femur flute lol

The pranksters gonna get that glue oh lord

Yasha gets a bone harp and she and Caduceus start the most unnerving band ever and I for one am THRILLED

Don't they still need to fetch something for the three kobolds in a trench coat? Let alone for Pumat and now this woman lol

Pride silk.... oh dear it's gonna be mutant bugs

Called it

Three silk worms good luck bringing those back

Matt's like WOOO fight tournament hell yeah!

Y'all should go take downtime in Xhorhas in the Xhorhaus and talk to Essek about all this

....I just really miss Essek guys please

Liam O'Brian you will NOT let Caleb sneak off on his own to go see Astrid you CANNOT ajslajkssksk

This episode didn't go as painfully/badly as it could have but it still stressed me out a lot and I'm still worried about Caleb and Trent Ick-athon can choke and if Caleb really goes go off on his own I will scream like baby PLEASE

God now we have to wait a whole week IS IT THURSDAY YET

#emi watches critical role #cr spoilers #critical role

[clovis-enthusiast]

Little thought about The Tyrant’s Tomb. [SPOILERS!!!!]

oKAY, so I’m gonna start off by saying that, as usual, Rick Riordan’s writing style never fails to impress and draw me in to keep reading and not stop until I’ve devoured every last word. I was DESPERATE to read this book because it took me longer to get it than usual, and I was trying to go into it spoiler free (aside from reading the snippets that Uncle Rick posted on his Twitter every now and then.) I pretty much managed to do so, and it made the experience that much more emotional for me. I went into The Burning Maze KNOWING that Jason was going to die, but I had absolutely no idea what I’d be facing in this book.

Camp Jupiter

I’m just gonna flat out say it; I was never really all that interested in Camp Jupiter in the beginning. I didn’t like the majority of the characters (aside from Dakota who is my legal son) and the camp structure (though accurate to the Romans) seemed too strict and harsh to me. The ranking systems confused me, and it all in all just did not appeal to me the way Camp Half-Blood does. However, the more I read, the more attached I grew, and although I still MUCH prefer Camp Half-Blood and would choose it in a heartbeat when choosing between the two camps, it still became an interesting place to read about. I ADORE the idea of New Rome and the sharp contrast of silly demigods like the fifth cohort vs. the strict rules and upbringing of the camp.

When Jason died in The Burning Maze and the next book was set to take place surrounding Camp Jupiter, I grew excited. I REALLY wanted to meet more of the demigods of the Roman camp and explore them more (mostly Dakota but I digress.) Although I knew reading about everyone’s reactions to Jason’s death would be hard, I fought through it and was somewhat surprised by the lack of grieving that was presented. I mean, the ENTIRE first few chapters were ALL about Jason’s coffin and Lester and Meg grieving and trying their best to get it to camp but when it actually got there there really wasn’t that much of an uproar. At first I thought that was strange but looking back at it the Romans are brought up to be strong and not let emotions take over them, and people like Hazel have to show absolute strength. Besides the camp was already in mourning over DOZENS of other campers at the time.

That was another thing that sort of bugged me. I was absolutely ITCHING to meet some new characters and granted I got a few, but the majority of the ‘newer’ characters had already been killed and served only as the undead army.

THAT WAS SO FUCKED UP. It was one thing that I think Rick did a really good job with in upping the deep and darkness of the Riordanverse series. Can you imagine fighting your undead comrades and friends?? Like holy shit, that was emotional. I was super worried I spoiled something for myself on Istagram bc I read a post someone made about Jason trying to get the undead Romans to follow him instead or direct them away from camp, but I should have known it wasn’t true since he was literally burned.

Frank

Speaking of burning, I ACTUALLY thought Rick killed Frank off. Up until this book, I hadn’t really realized how much I loved this man. His character is just so well-written and likable and when he sacrificed the wood, I was like NOOOOOOOOO. I was SO grateful he came back in the end because I was sure Rick would never hear the end of THAT one if he allowed it to really happen. On the bright side, my baby boy can now enjoy his life with a little bit more vigor and less fear now that the stick is gone for good.

New Characters

Lavinia Asimov: Okay, Lavinia is a REALLLLLLLY weird character to me. She reminds me a lot of Lou Ellen to be honest, but for some reason, she doesn’t appeal to me as much as Lou Ellen does. (Maybe it’s just because I tend to prefer minor characters) Her rebelliousness seemed a little too... forced at times?? And her whole thing with the dryads and fauns was kinda weird too, but I guess since she likes Poison Ivy, it makes sense. However, she kinda did grow on me, I suppose, and I wouldn’t mind seeing more of her.

Poison Ivy: I REALLY wished we could have met her even just once. Lavinia would not shut up about her and was CONSTANTLY rebelling against the rules in camp just to see her, so I wanna know just what kind of a character she is. I’m sure she would have been very interesting and sassy to have been Lavinia’s love interest lol

Pranjal: He’s a good boy!!! Not quite sure how to pronounce his name properly, but his appearance is adorable and I LOVE the fact that he’s a son of Aesculapius because he’s one of my favorite gods soooo... I really wish we could have seen more of him!! He’s kinda like Clovis in the way that he has like one important part, gets mentioned like two times afterwards and then never again :^/

Aristophanes: he’s a cat,,, i love him,,, 

Harpocrates: This was SO interesting and out of the blue to me having gone in spoiler free!! He’s earned a new spot up in my favorite gods list because of how interesting and mysterious he is. His concept was great and although i was sad to see him sacrificed, I hope that he and Sibyl are together wherever they are bc that was damn cute and made me so emotional afgkjldg why did Apollo have to be such a dick as a god,,,

New names with little to no info: Carl (Roman demigod,) Reza (Roman demigod,) Reginald (faun,) Felipe (faun,) Harold (faun,) Lotoya (dryad,) Buster (unicorn,) Muffin (unicorn,) Whagadoodle (unicorn,) Shirley (unicorn,) Horatio (unicorn,) One Eye (pegasus,) Small Ears (pegasus,) Boost (pandai,) Ida (Roman demigod,) Caelius (Roman demigod,) Thomas (Roman demigod,) Colum (Roman demigod,) and Terrel (Roman demigod)

Lester/Apollo

MY BOY HAS GROWN!!! He’s so human now, and I’m so proud. He doesn’t even second guess sacrificing himself or humiliating himself to save his friends. I just... I have a lot of feelings over his character development. Rick handles him SO well, and I just,,, I love him,,, i am,,, in love with him,, i would date lester papadopoulos

Meg

She’s grown to be such a doll!! I was SUPER annoyed by her in the first books, but now she’s my daughter. I love that she’s actually expressing emotions other than ‘annoying 12 year old’ now. Like I wanna protect her.

Reyna

She was a pretty good character in this book and her leaving the camp was a HUGE surprise to me. I kinda wish she was still praetor because idk Hazel just doesn’t rlly seem as fit for it as Reyna was, and I like Reyna a lot, but idk i guess it’s coolio. I was also glad Rick cleared up all the romance discourse about her too though the way he did it was kinda weird (she literally was using the word ‘ship’ out loud like wh-- and i don’t remember the venus thing at all so maybe i missed it from a different book? idk it came out of nowhere to me)

Ella and Tyson

I actually like Ella a lot now!! I used to find her quite annoying, and her relationship with Tyson felt forced, but now that I had the time to get used to her and figure out her character a little more, I do like her. She sort of treats Tyson weird, but I think towards the end, I fell for their relationship more. Tyson was literally excellent, show-stopping, breath-taking, amazing,,, like YESSS KING I LOVE YOU AND YOU PEANUT BUTTER-SMELLING SELF (that one scene where he just started dancing and apollo didn’t know if it was for the ritual or just bc he felt like it killed me)

Character Deaths

Dakota: I AM NEVER GOING TO GET OVER THIS ONE FOLKS. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MANY TIMES I HAD TO REREAD THE SAME SENTENCE TO MAKE SURE THAT I WASN’T HAVING A NIGHTMARE. I PHYSICALLY CANNOT BELIEVE THAT RICK KILLED HIM OFF. I’M STILL EMOTIONAL OVER IT, AND JUST AJSDHF;AMNJ ‘;  NOOOOOOOOOOO THIS IS THE SECOND SIBLING POLLUX HAS LOST IM GOING TO  S C R E A M  HE WAS ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS AND HE DESERVED BETTER DAMN IT I’M LITERALLY IN SHOCK LITERALLY DO NOT TALK TO ME LIKE I’M STILL IN SHOCK FROM CREST’S DEATH IN THE LAST BOOK TBH AND NOW THIS??? NOW I’M SCARED CLOVIS IS GONNA DIE JSDKLFKS the only thing that gives me comfort is that Jason can be with his friend in Elysium now fuckkkk,,, rick why did you do this to me,,, I LITERALLY CANNOT EXPRESS HOW UPSET I AM I WILL  N E V E R  HEAL

Don: Don was sort of a comic relief character in SoN, and it was very sad to see him go. He reminded me a lot of Grover, and his death scene with Lavinia ACTUALLY made me tear up. THIS BOOK MADE ME SO EMOTIONAL GOD DAKOTA AND DON WERE LITERAL BABIES RICK GIVE THEM BACK

Bobby: listen,,, we never even met this kid rlly and i was still super sad when lavinia had to kill him again and hannibal is without him and just ughhh whyyy

Julia’s mother, father, AND foster parents: HOLY SHIT RICK WASN’T THAT KIND OF OVERKILL??? I felt so bad for the poor girl, especially cause she’s like six??? But it’s very sweet that Terminus adopted her. I really liked that.

Jacob: AAHHHAHA this one made me sad too!!!! he was such a minor character, but he reminded me of Damien White and Ethan Nakamura (if he were allowed to actually be a kid,) so I think that’s why I was sort of partial to him. The way he died was SUPER horrid too, so I just,,, im big sad for him (on a good hand, he went down F I G H T I N G)

Mentions of anything relating to Hypnos or his children

Yes, i am keeping track, sue me. Somnus was mentioned one time in this book as one of the gods Apollo briefly considered summoning to his aid, and it is presumed he has some sort of tribute at Camp Jupiter had he not before. You’ll make another appearance someday Clovis, I know it :’^D 

Final Thoughts

I literally CANNOT wait for the next book (which I presume is the last one.) From what it seems, we’re returning to New York, so Camp Half-Blood will be present. I can’t wait to see my babes again, and I’m REALLY hoping more minor characters will be allowed to shine (cough clovis cough) but like i KNOW some will die and just,,, im sad,,, dakota’s death has wrecked me,,, but on the side note, the new book is coming out in my last year of school!!! i’m so excited because this series holds emotional value to me like i’ve literally gone through my high school career with trials of apollo like it was with me the whole time and it’s one of the only things that keeps me going. i just,,, i have no words to express how much this series and all the others mean to me...

thank you so much for keeping me going, uncle rick. i can’t wait to see how this all ends :^) <3 

#my post #spoilers #the tyrants tomb #toa #mine #me #clovis-enthusiast

[yallreddieforthis]

I Can’t Believe It’s Not Richie

Fandom: It (2017)

Pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Rating: T (for language)

Words: 2.7k

Pre-relationship. Movie canon-compliant but not book. Also posted on AO3

The Greater Fool Series: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.5 (NSFW) | Part 5

It seems impossible that a person can be both that shitty and the shit at the same time but like...it’s Richie. And since Richie doesn’t give a single fuck about following any kind of rules, Eddie guesses the ones that govern Eddie’s emotions don’t apply to him either. Greaaaat.

Sometimes Eddie can't believe it's Richie.

Maybe even most of the time, like when everything out of his mouth is your mom and my wang and it's just words, it's not even funny, and Eddie can only tune him out or try to talk over him. Richie cannot shut the fuck up for one goddamn second. And it's not even like Eddie can pin it to anything specific—like, oh, Richie talks more when he's angry or nervous or excited—because he does it when he's every one of those things and any other thing besides. The tone may change—the subject matter even—but the talking. Never. Stops.

Eddie doesn’t really consider himself a beacon of cultural knowledge, but he does own a TV. So he at least has a vague idea of what a British person might sound like, which is more than he can say for Richie. Richie also owns a TV, and yet his British Guy impression is so god-awful that Eddie has to assume he’s basing it on someone’s description of a fever dream they once had about a London street urchin from the eighteen hundreds. This only applies to the actual words though, not the pronunciation—which is pretty much indistinguishable from just Richie being Richie—and that’s across the board for all the voices, not just the British Guy. For someone who loves imitating other people as much as Richie does, it’s unbelievable how remarkably all his Guys sound like they’re from Derry, Maine. Because shouting out mangled phrases he half-remembers from the time he watched Mary Poppins six years ago—in the most American voice imaginable—is still somehow Richie’s interpretation of a British accent.

That isn’t even the worst part of The Voices though. The worst part is that Richie seems to have a sixth sense that alerts him to the exact moment at which it would most infuriate Eddie for him to do one, and invariably it’s as if a little light goes off in the least-developed part of his brain that says Time To Be Italian! (or Southern, or German—he has a constantly expanding, but not noticeably improving, repertoire) and it’s like he just has to do it right then. Sometimes it makes Eddie want to scream at him. Sometimes Eddie does scream at him. But screaming makes no difference; Eddie knows perfectly well that Richie will absolutely do it again the second the urge strikes him, no matter how inappropriate the timing or what Eddie does in reaction.

He's fucking gross too. Not necessarily grosser than the rest of them, but he certainly subscribes to the teenage boy brand of hygiene that dictates that he only really has to shower when Eddie finally shoves him away with a you smell like a sweaty nutsack. Of course then Richie inches closer and it's all how would you know, huh? and Eddie has to be like because I have nuts too, dipshit, and if you never wash them you'll—

And then all his warnings about bacteria and fungal infections are drowned out in the your mom and my wang and vague, half-heard rumors Richie repeats about people from school that Eddie knows aren't true, and he's pretty sure Richie doesn't even believe himself. Fuck him and his terrible, nasty-ass jokes.

Some days he thinks Richie purposely doesn't shower specifically so that he can torment Eddie with his unbearable boy stank. Or how he'll like, step in dog shit and just sort of shrug and wipe the sole of his shoe in the grass and then keep going with whatever he was doing like he's not literally tracking shit everywhere. If Eddie were to step in dog shit—which he wouldn't because he watches where he's going like a sane person—it would bring his entire day to a screeching halt. He gets that he's in the minority when it comes to these kinds of things, but he doesn't get why.

And then Richie has the audacity to suggest that Eddie's just as bad as the rest of them—when he says things like you’re convinced your shit doesn't stink, or it’s the smell of your own breath wafting back in your face—like he thinks Eddie is kind of gross too. Which shouldn't bother him, but it does. Somewhere very, very deep down in his gut he has a nagging suspicion as to why that might possibly be, but he's hell-bent on ignoring it at least until the inevitable destruction of the planet Earth, if not even longer. And that’s going like...pretty well for him. Reasonably well. Maybe a little less well than it used to be, but he's almost fourteen now and he thinks he should probably have a solid handle on the whole thing within the next couple of years.

But even if Richie wasn't either of those things—annoying, disgusting—there's nothing really exceptional that he is. It's not like he's a genius; the gigantic, goofy glasses make him look smarter than he actually is, and he gives as few shits about school as he does about anything else. Eddie is sure that Mrs. Tozier has never been to a parent-teacher conference where she didn’t hear the phrase if he only applied himself, and he’s equally sure that every one of the teachers who said it knew that they were wasting their breath. If Mrs. Tozier—or anyone else—stood even the slightest chance of motivating Richie to care about pre-algebra, there would have been upward mobility in his GPA long before now. Eddie has to assume he does at least some homework—if for no other reason than because he hasn’t been held back yet—but as far as he can tell, Richie bent over a textbook at home is a sight as yet unwitnessed by mankind.

Richie’s not athletic either—by any definition of the word—at least not until they decide to make Competitive Talking an Olympic sport. He’s really good on his bike, but that’s a skill he developed out of practicality because the alternative is being stuck walking all over Derry, and it’s not like being able to ride a bike is something to brag about because even Eddie can do that. But Richie’s not a fast runner. He can’t do a push-up unless it’s the kind that only count as push-ups when girls do them, knees on the ground. He can’t even throw a spitball into a trash can from three feet away (his performance in the Rock War against Bowers and his goons was a crazy, adrenaline-fueled exception)—and like, okay, the bad aim can probably be chalked up to his horrendous eyesight, but even beyond that there’s this general, overall lack of coordination. Eddie has what amounts to a universal pass that effectively excuses him from participating in PE for his entire school career, so he’s never been physically present for what goes down on the yard, but he can pretty much piece it together from the scrapes and bruises all over Richie’s arms and legs. It doesn’t matter what unit they’re on—dodgeball, baseball, soccer, tetherball—Richie plays only one position: target.

He doesn’t fare any better in the kind of extracurriculars that teachers and parents care about, like music. Richie is an aggressively bad singer—a fact Eddie is forcibly reminded of every time anyone has a birthday because Richie always makes a point of sandwiching Eddie between himself and someone who won’t run away (usually the birthday kid’s mom) while he belts out an eardrum-shattering rendition of Happy Birthday at the top of his lungs. Richie seems to interpret birthday party invitations as personal challenges for him to sing louder and worse, challenges he has so far risen to spectacularly on every occasion. The song gets longer each time too, because he never forgets to include Frankenstein on channel nine and the big fat lady on channel eighty and whatever new, ruder verses he’s scrounged up out of nowhere between the last birthday party and this one. Richie’s singing is actually one of the most obnoxious things about him, in Eddie’s opinion, which is really saying something.

He is so unrestrainedly, deliberately awful that Eddie could honestly imagine some idiot adult who doesn’t know Richie listening to him screech the chorus of Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go over and over in Eddie’s ear (the newest sabotage tactic he’s been deploying at the arcade to try to make Eddie lose at Street Fighter) and thinking wow, maybe that kid actually has a beautiful singing voice but doesn’t want anyone to know because he’s worried people will make fun of him. They would be wrong, of course, because even when he’s not actively trying to suck, Richie can’t sing for shit. Eddie doesn’t have to know anything about music to be able to tell that Richie’s real singing voice—the one he almost never uses—is flat and off-key. And forget about instruments because whenever someone makes the mistake of letting him get his hands on one, he immediately tries to shove it down his pants—or worse, Eddie’s pants—and pretend it’s a wang.

There’s art—and Eddie has noticed that being a really good artist can absolve someone of the sin of sucking at everything else. Bill, for example, is talented enough with watercolor pencils that if he drew people’s attention to his sketches, he could probably get away with not knowing how to write a half-decent thesis statement or multiply fractions (even though Bill does know how to do those things) because people would just affix the tortured artist label to him and stop giving him shit about the stutter. And Richie actually draws a lot—probably as much as Bill if it’s purely a question of quantity over quality—it’s just that the only things he seems to be interested in drawing are dicks, and the places he chooses to draw them are all technically the property of the Derry Public School District. Also, his fine motor skills are at least as bad as his gross ones, because his handwriting looks the way his singing voice sounds, and the dicks he draws make Eddie question if Richie has ever even looked in his own pants before.

And yet, despite all of the incontrovertible evidence that Richie is actually a walking disaster, there are other times that Eddie can't believe it’s not Richie to everyone else. Or even like anyone else.

It could be argued that it’s almost inevitable due to the sheer volume of jokes he tells, but every so often Richie will get one absolutely, unassailably right. His timing, his word choice—the heavens open, the planets align, and suddenly everybody around him is laughing so hard they can't breathe, Eddie included. His eyes usually end up watering when it happens, but he squints through them to look at Richie because in those moments, Richie glows like nothing else. He tries to act like it isn’t a big deal that everyone is pissing themselves from whateverthefuck he just blurted out of his incessantly flapping mouth hole, but Eddie can tell how thrilled he is when people actually find him funny. It's happening more and more often nowadays, enough so that Eddie sometimes wonders if maybe Richie is wasting his time at school after all. And who needs sports or music or art anyway?

And he could be a whole lot worse about Eddie’s germ thing if he wanted to be, like how some people give him hell about the pills and the inhaler and the hand washing. Richie doesn’t have detergent hands but he sure as shit will mouth off to anybody who gives Eddie a hard time about his. He can’t say Richie doesn’t at least try to look out for him, in his own weird way. Or Bill, or Stan, or Mike, or any of them. It causes more trouble than it’s worth more often than not, especially because Richie doesn’t have any discernable muscle with which to back up his shit-talking, so it probably would honestly be better if he would just like...not. But Eddie can’t really help appreciating it all the same.

But the hardest thing to ignore about Richie—and Eddie wouldn’t admit this to anyone, even under threat of death by clown—is that his memories of what Richie did for him over the summer have become a kind of personal, private shield against fear. They all try to avoid thinking about It as much as they reasonably can (which isn’t much; it’s not like you just go and forget about the time you and all your friends climbed down a haunted well so you could almost get eaten by a demon clown in the sewers), but Eddie’s positive he isn’t the only one who lies awake at night when the sound of his own pounding heartbeat is making him too nauseous to sleep.

The lights are off because it’s almost worse when they’re on. Maybe if he can’t see It coming, it’ll just eat him real fast and get it over with before he even knows what hit him. Still, he doesn’t want to die—instantly is preferable to slowly, but even better is not at all. So he’s developed a set of dozens of little rules for himself to follow—like no turning over, no breathing too deeply, no limbs outside the covers, no long, slow blinks (quick ones are okay; otherwise it’s eyes all the way closed or all the way open). Realistically he knows that not a single one of these rules means jack shit to anyone outside his own brain, but somehow no-ing himself into what amounts to a vegetative state eventually bores him to sleep. Okay, usually it does. More like occasionally. Actually it’s only worked like twice, but whatever. He’ll take what he can get at this point.

Sometimes Eddie thinks he has it worse than anyone else. Well, maybe not worse than Bill. But the rest of them—he isn’t sure if any of them can really understand exactly how fucking useless he felt down in that god-forsaken lair with his arm in a cast. Bill and Beverly were awesome, Mike was like a goddamn soldier, Stan was great after he’d finished crying and even Ben, who Eddie basically thinks of as the most inoffensive kid on the planet, was tough as balls. And Eddie felt like a worthless piece of shit. He hates his arm for being broken, and he hates his nightmares for always including the broken arm. It’s coming at him—just him—and his arm is hanging limply and there’s not a goddamn thing he can do—

And that’s where Richie comes in. Only when he thinks about Richie bitching Bill out for getting them all into this shit situation while inching toward the mountain of broken toys, Richie grabbing a baseball bat and saying now I’m going to have to kill this fucking clown...only then does the terror that surrounds him all through the night start to ease up.

And then he thinks a little further back about when he fell through the floor and broke his arm in the first place, about how all his friends were crowding him and freaking the fuck out, and Richie just looked at his arm and said he was going to set the break and snapped his bone back into place while Eddie shrieked at him to do not fucking touch me. Just like, grabbed his arm where it was dangling the wrong way and fucking did it.

Sometimes… Sometimes Eddie is positive that if It were to show up in his house on any given night, Richie would immediately come crashing through his bedroom window, swinging a baseball bat. Because somehow Richie would know if It returned, would know It was coming for Eddie, would show up in time. He’d show up and keep his shit together while Eddie couldn’t. He’d probably sometimes miss with the bat, but Eddie kind of suspects that it wouldn’t matter. Richie would stand between Eddie and It and just sort of suck all the scary out of the room with his endless, pointless trash-talking. And when Eddie thinks about it that way, it’s like you know what? Screw John McClane; Richie Tozier is Eddie’s hero.

And then Richie sticks his sweaty armpit in Eddie’s face and goddamn it Eddie can’t believe it’s Richie.

#it (2017) #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #my fics #pre-relationship #the greater fool #sorry i'm an old person and it took me a million years to figure out how to post fics on tumblr

[secretblogofthedepressedanon]

April 23, 2021

I keep losing my cool at things that don’t require that, and I don’t like it. I am recognizing the pattern & the problem easier now, but I still can’t seem to get myself out of it when I am in it. I try, but it’s like once I get all wound up, the ‘off’ switch is rendered useless for a period of time. The impulses are so strong and I am so amped up. Like my fight or flight response is on 10 and the only thing I can do now is dive right through it. I dunno.

Today, it was dumb and I just got overwhelmed and when I got overwhelmed I got angry. Why do I always get angry? Why is that the emotional response? Either way I don’t like it.

I guess I just feel like I need somewhere to properly redirect it. Like I get anxious or irritated or whatever about something, and then I have nothing to do with it. Nowhere to put it. I guess I need a creative outlet, but really how is that going to help when I get pulled into a mess like that suddenly? Where I don’t have the ability to just go paint or draw or whatever it is that I want / need to do. I need something else, something I can do to cool the impetuous anger as it is happening, not later. Not after I have made a mess of things.

I guess really that’s one of my issues, I get irrational and impulsive and I make a mess out of things and then I cannot unsort it. It’s an ugly cycle I have repeated before, over and over and I really feel like it is getting old. To tell you the truth, I just feel like I am a ball of emotions that I cannot control, understand, or follow. Everytime I think I understand, something new crops up or I present the *same bullshit* with a new process / thought cycle every fucking time and I hate it.

What is my issue with letting myself be happy? 

Lol like why do I self sabotage so much?? What is my god damn deal? 

He won’t put up with this forever. I wouldn’t anyways. He is endlessly kind and understanding and patient in ways that I, reasonably, deserve but... I feel like I don’t. I feel like I am undeserving and wild and neurotic and just absolutely out of my mind. Logically, I understand that that’s just my brain telling me those things because it is in unhealthy. I understand that I am just doing my best, and that I deserve unconditional love & kindness...

But when I look at him when I am out of control. When I am just upset and losing my mind  I just feel like he is so good. So kind and strong and sincere and level and he just doesn’t deserve the way I behave. And I really am trying to do better, learn more, and become emotionally / mentally well. I really am. And I can see the progress I am making. And yet.. I just feel like I keep failing him, as if by not being able to regulate myself I am just hurting him. And it isn’t fair to him. I know he chooses to be here. I know he loves me, genuinely. And I know he wants to help me, and that those moments are not all of who I am. I know he sees so much more to me than that... But I just can’t help but to feel like this cycle that I am stuck in... He doesn’t deserve to have to be there for this. He doesn’t deserve to have to watch me struggle like that, or watch me lose control or be that way. I want him to be with someone who can help him in the ways he needs, as he has done for me. 

I want to be that person more than anything. And I am working on it. I am trying so hard, I am doing the shadow work and I am confronting the things within myself that scare or disappoint me. Really, I am.  But I still just feel like he could be leagues & miles ahead of where we are now if he didn’t have me weighing him down or dragging him backwards. 

Is that just more of my brain talking, or is it the intelligence & awareness to know that I am fucking up? I don’t even know anymore. 

I need to get into therapy. I know I do. I am working hard, and its good, but I cannot do it alone. And asking for help isn’t bad or wrong. It’s just taking care of myself & doing what I need to do to make it through life without struggling with this forever. I deserve that. I deserve to be free of this bullshit, of this fucking absolute shitshow of managing my own brain and emotions. I deserve to be able to navigate life with the proper tools & abilites to take care of myself, and my own mental well being. 

And it’s time I do what I Can to take my own energy and my own health and make it fuckin better. I am gonna grow dammit.

I changed my twitter handle today to reflect that statement. Lol I feel like I am opening up in ways I never thought. I mean, first of all, truly baring my soul on the internet is totally never what I imagined for myself. I guess really I should have always expected it, I basically grew up online lol. Outside who? Bitch I was on myspace when I was 10, I spent more hours on internet forums and Neopets n shit than I ever did with my family. And repeatedly, I was made to feel bad about it by them. Now, I understand that I did some things that were way way too mature for my age, I know that in my desperate search for community and belonging, I was taken advantage of in ways. The internet is a dangerous and scary place for kids, especially improperly supervised, depressed, lonely, and desperate kids. I am lucky I am alive, and haven’t had anything exceedingly dangerous happen to me. 

That being said, they should have seen those things for what they were. Loneliness. A need for friendship, a need to be understood, to have real human connection. I was far too young to understand and communicate those needs, and due to the absolute neglect of my family, I had yet to learn that (and am still working on learning how to recognize and express those needs) myself. But them? My mom? My father? They were adults. They should have seen how desperately and seriously I needed help.

It was their responsibility to make sure I got help, to make sure I was properly loved & taken care of. And they didn’t. And that is their fault. Their failures to help me are on them. Their inability to give me the proper care and love and childhood that I needed... That was on them. And that is how and why I turned to the internet. 

I mean, fuck, the internet taught me so much that they never did. I learned about sex and relationships, money, life all on the internet. I have lived behind a screen, a secret identity all its own for many many years. I have hidden myself digitally all throughout the years. If you knew where to look, you can find evidence of me growing up everywhere. Little digital snapshots in the life of me.

I wonder what that would look like. If I could go back over all the things I have ever done on the internet. How many hours I spent on websites like Gaia or StumbleUpon or Pinterest or Reddit. How many times have I shared parts of myself for strangers on the internet, praying for an audience, just waiting for someone to see me. Someone. 

How ironic, then, is it that I met the man who really sees me, all of me, in a more tangible physical way? I spent so long aching for someone to find me any other way, never once imagining that if I met him that way.... It could work. I guess that has a lot to do with the neglect I suffered in my childhood. No one ever taught me how to have confidence in the things I do, or in myself. Hell, I can probably count on my hands how many things about life my parents taught me. 

As I heal and grow and look back on my past, I wish I could do so much of it over again. Like, I don’t really because I ended up in a place that is doing so much for me, but at the same time... If I had this kind of knowledge / emotional health then.. Imagine where I could be now? As strong and capable and determined as I am, as much work as I have put into surviving... Imagine the woman I could be if I didn’t have to. If I could’ve developed healthy habits and traits from the beginning... If I could have channeled that energy into something more, something better... who would I be now? How different would my life be if I hadn’t been robbed of my right to a happy & healthy childhood? If I didn’t have to ask myself ‘why aren’t I happy’ as young as six? 

For goodness sake I can remember wanting to run away from home as young as then. I literally remember packing a bunch of stuff into some walmart bags into a backpack. Telling myself I would leave after nightfall. I didn’t even have a plan, I didn’t know where I would go, what I would do. And so even then, in my underdeveloped, underloved child mind, I knew I had to stay.

In my dirty, neglected, God forsaken home. I stayed. 

Where I was lonely, where I didn’t know healthy love, where I ached for someone just to want me, I stayed.

I mean, it wasn’t that conscious of a choice. It isn’t like I had the emotional intelligence then to tell you what I am now. But even then, I could tell you I was unhappy.  I wouldn’t have had the words for why, though.

I wouldn’t have been able to tell you how lonely I felt, how much I felt I didn’t belong anywhere or with anyone. But that’s how I felt. I felt misunderstood. Invisible. I couldn’t understand why my siblings never wanted to spend time with me. Why my father would never come out of his room. Why my mom spent all of her time on the computer, playing internet games with her friends. They were all so caught up in trying to be happy for themselves, that no one had time to care about my emotional needs.

Yeah, I was fed. I never went without clothes or toys or food. 

But all of my most defining moments, happened without any of them. The moments that made me, me. 

I think the reason I find those cheesy coming of age shows so unrelatable (not that I don’t enjoy them, they get me as much as they get others) is because to me... That family dynamic is unrealistic. It feels fake, like who actually lives like that? What kind of kid actually comes home to cry in their mom’s arms about  high school breakups, or middle school crushes? It feels unreal, because for me it never was a reality. I basically figured out how to exist within the parameters of my own mind and body. Most of the things I know about being a person have to do entirely with how I exist within myself. The curves and treads of my mind. My soul’s wishes and whispers and secrets. 

I have to learn how to grow. How to exist more on the outside of myself. How to take up more space. I have to learn to be loud about who I am to just be myself, unashamed and unstoppable. I was not created to be afraid of myself, I was created to be the full sunshiney, hopeful, sarcastic, witty, kindhearted, generous woman I am becoming. 

#my post #long post #me #my feelings #my thoughts #growth #growing #changing #happiness #journal #journal post #feelings #feelings post #anxiety #depression #childhood issues #self love

[ashavant]

The American University System: Oppressing the non-elite.

So let me get this straight...in the 70's there was a community outcry to lower the amount of tax money that got put towards college tuition for future generations? American tax payers used to cover over 70% of college costs, allowing the young students straight out of highschool the ability to work a minimum wage summer job to literally pay their entire tuition. Those with part time jobs while in school were not very common. This allowed for an ability to succeed without the unnecessary baggage of financial stress and lack of sleep at 18 years old while taking 14+ credits, which for those of you who dont know is a true 40-60 hour work week alone. All of this hard work and achievement paved the way for these kids to enter adulthood as educated, debt free, and with the world at their fingertips. Not to mention, they had the incredible privilege of not having to become a self sufficient adult in the middle of the worst economic crisis since the depression...

Compare that romantic reality to our drastically different reality today. I will use my experiences as an example for this, while probably on the extreme spectrum of experiences, they are valid and carry merit nonetheless. I was always told as a child, "you have to go to college, its not an option" Yet, when i graduated highschool, my parents grew quiet. I grew up in a 5 person household in Orange County, CA (one of the most expensive places to live in the country) in a family who made roughly $40k a year, give or take (thats poverty folx). My step-father was an electrical contractor so income was often spuratic. Anyway, needless to say they had not one penny saved for my college tuition. My parents failed to put a single penny aside for anything regarding my well-being honestly. With no car, no money, no job, and no idea when or how I could recieve a college education, I was kicked out of my parents at 17 years old with nowhere to go. I couch surfed and was able to get a couple jobs, one at a crafts store and one at a sandwhich shop. After 2 long years of working my way out of homelessness, all I wanted was to start college! So, at age 19 I applied for financial aid. However, I was told because I was under 25 I needed my parents tax information. Well, my parents never filed on time and were incredible dodgy with communication. So, after months of going back and forth I ended up paying out of pocket for a full time coarse load at a community college. I was able to work my jobs and pay this, but with nothing left over for rent or food. I ended up getting kicked out of my place, had to apply for foodstamps, and had to start over from square one. Little did I know I would have to wait 5 years before I could finally give college another shot.

I had almost given up the idea of higher education. I was making good money in the food industry at this point and had a nice company car and a great home with an awesome roommate. But then, I met a boy. We traveled the country for three months with his bluegrass band and saw 32 states. Afterwards, we again found ourselves broke and homeless. We hunkered down, worked 80+ hour weeks, saved up, and moved to Portland Oregon, "where young people go to retire". Little did we know, retire would be the LAST thing we did when we got there. Cost of living was rising in Portland, but still nothing compared to Orange County, CA. We got good food jobs and nested for about a year. My boyfriend (we will call him N) got great grades in highschool and high test scores in his exit exams, so in 2014 he chose to get back into school as a Music Composition Major at age 26. His journey is a whole other terrible story. I wanted to return to school so badly, but knew I had to wait until I was old enough to not warrant my parents tax info. Finally, at age 24 I filed my FAFSA and went to a career counselor. I was directed in the career of Civil Engineering. Having no prior knowledge of this career or topic, I dove in blindly headfirst. I chose a community college due to the fact that I barely finished highschool and did not take ant exit exams. To my surprise, I did very well in my college settings. After one year I was able to transfer to a university! Me! I WAS GOING TO A UNIVERSITY! I could not believe it, and was soo excited. I had no clue how hard this would be, not the work, but just surviving through it. I should mention here that I have a mild dissability. I have endometriosis which is a chronic illness linked to hormones, ovarian cysts, and all that jazz which can result in disabling pain and in my case an emergency surgery from time to time. I also suffer from a mild form of PTSD. So, with those alone handling high stress loads can be very hard on my mental and physical well being.

Ok, so I was a 24 year old first generation college student (first person in my family to go to college) disabled lower class person wanting a higher education. Seems logical right? Well, once I got accepted to the university, I chose to change my major to Architecture, I had taken an intro class for general ed and fell inlove. My beginning of my first year was great! Lots of lectures and reading. Aside from my tuition multiplying literally 3x from my community college tuition which did not affect my financial aid disbursement, I was fairly stress free. Now keep in mind, my partner and I are both working 20-30 hour weeks to make ends meet while taking 12-14 credits. Its basically having 2 full time jobs. Anyway, the last term of my first year came around-my first studio class. I was so excited! Time to actually do architecture! I got the syllabus and was told was supplies were needed to be successful in the class. I was also told that doing all of the requirements for the assignment would result in a C grade, if any grade above that was desired extra work had to be put in. I thought, no biggie, bring it on. The next thing she said was, "absolutely no sleeping in the studio!" Thats when I had a feeling I was gonna be in trouble. After class I went to the art store got my supplies. I almost started crying as they read my total to me: "$682.80, please." And that was with my student discount and not including all of the future supplies I would need just for that term, which I will tell you now after all the drawings and models ended up being about $2,000. That is a whole lot. These studio classes also require many all-nighters just to have enough time to complete the assignments. Many times, due to having to work outside of school I could not complete my assignments or had to do them with less craft and care than I would like just to turn it in. This year, I recieved less in financial aid, my rent has gone up significantly, tuition went up, and there are new grade requirements: if you get anything less than a B-, youre immediately dropped from the school of Architecture. So, not completing assignments isnt an option anymore. This last term costed my much less money, but once I told my instructor I was out of money, his response was, "well, this is Architecture school." What the fuck am I supposed to do with that!? A roll of Velum (drafting design paper) costs $50-$70 pencils are $2 a piece, models cost like $100 each, the list of tools go on and on. I am already paying $10k a year for tuition, ensuring at the very least $70k of debt including my masters degree which you need to get your Architecture license. And at least $100k with the $500 a month I need to borrow a month for rent. I should not need to add thousands more of that for supplies my school should be providing. And this insane pressure of pulling all nighters to get done the amount of assignments it would take us to do in a whole week last term in 2 days!

The moral of this very long story is that college is not meant for those of us trying to climb the life ladder. Its meant for the already elite. Its meant for kids right out of highschool with parents who make enough money to pay their tuition, their rent, their whole lives! Meant for kids who travel to Europe for the summer instead of working 60 hours a week to make up for the money lost during school cuz you physically cannot work more than 25 hours. Its meant for kids who can call their mommies and complain about how mean their teacher is, not for those of us who cry every night about being afraid of ending up back on the streets in the snap of a finger. Its meant for kids who can work and think about school all day every day, not those of us preoccupied with being able to pay all of our bills and being able to afford food and health insurance.

HOWEVER, even if you are like me, worse, or better, YOU CAN DO IT! I have a damn 3.7 GPA. I may only get 3 hours of sleep a lot, cry almost weekly, probably have lost years of my life due to stress, and feel scared for my health, but shit IM FUCKING DOOOOIN IT! Even though our government, or school presidents, and pretty much everyone in power disagrees, you are so worth it and you are so capable of success no matter how much harder you have to work than everyone else. Because we have to work so much harder now, we will get to party that much harder when we make it. I WILL GRADUATE IN SPITE OF THE SYSTEM! I WILL SUCCEED IN SPITE OF THE SYSTEM! I WILL CHANGE THE FUCKING WORLD CUZ I AM A BADASS AND CAN DO ANYTHING YOU PRIVELEDGED FUCKS CAN DO, JUST BETTER!

#university #college #university system #academic witch #academia #opression

[zerohourseraphim]

          An Open Letter to Politicians and any concerned that video games add drastically to the number of incidents of gun violence and mass shootings.

          I watched a video from The Daily Show. In it, Trevor Noah responded to a tweet from Neil DeGrasse Tyson. The tweet came in the wake of a pair of mass shootings, drawing the ire of the collective internet. In the video, Trevor Noah pointed out that in all the events in which there are statistically more deaths than mass shootings, we as a society have many mitigating factors in an effort to ensure the health and safety of the populace. From medical errors, illness, car accidents, suicide and homicide, he went down the list of how we as a society try to stave off a mounting death toll.

          After the video, my mind turned to the blame that violence in video games was recieving once more. Is there a some valid history here? I think so. I have heard of times in which shooters used games and their engines to make mock ups of the grounds they aimed to terrorize and essentially practice their runs. I am also willing to admit that “you are what you eat”, and as such have to be mindful about what you consume. But in the vein of Trevor Noah’s segment, I began giving focused thought on what the gaming industry could do to police itself, more than lip service or pandering. To do something with the aim of quelling violence. After solid consideration there is only one thing that could be done: Rate games more harshly, namely rating more games as Adult Only rather than Mature.

          Back before the 90s, video games were seen solely as a medium of entertainment for children. The game series Mortal Kombat, still in its infancy, gained a lot of attention for bucking that trend and playing to an older audience. The gratuitous death animations and the over-the-top blood sprays on every hit gained the attention of the American government, leading to creation of the ESRB (Entertainment Software Ratings Board). Since then, all video games, and many other form of computer software and electronic media, have been subject to a division akin to movies and books. These are…

Everyone (E) Everyone 10+ (E10) Teen (T)- Geared towards ages 13 and up Mature (M)- 17 and up Adults only (AO)- 18 and up

          I am of the opinion that the rating system is not all that useful as it is not accurately utilized. For starters, I have always found it quirky how closely spaced the ages in the latter ratings are. Next, brick and mortar salesman were savvy gatekeepers when such was the only way to purchase games. The staff were, and still can, recognize if a T title is appropriate for younger audiences. Beyond that, in cases where an obvious child strolls up with a Mature game or one for Teens more on the Mature side, a parent is normally not too far away. They are likely to see their child as being “mature enough to handle it” and support the purchase. In this vein it has always been an adult, not the rating system, that has barred my access to a game. If you pull aside an adult gamer and ask them to assemble a collection of their most adult games and you will likely see that they are all rated as Mature. This rating is “as bad as it gets”. Thus I doubt you’ll see any Adult Only games. Why?

Cue my Social Cynic for the answer: Money.

          The video game industry generates billions of dollars worth of annual revenue. Amongst that is Grand Theft Auto Online, an extension to GTA V, which is the most lucrative entertainment property of all time. Not most valuable video game. Highest earning entertainment outlet in history. More than Avengers: Endgame or Avatar. More than Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, or any other popular book series.

I repeat: Grand Theft Auto Online is THE highest grossing entertainment property of all time. And, as it is ongoing, its revenue will only continue to grow.

          So how is this possible? The first answer on the board is microtransactions, which are gaining a number of articles from me and the internet abroad as it stands. But in relation to this article, availability. The difference between a Mature and Adults Only rating is where they are sold. With the former it is virtually everywhere, and it is virtually nowhere with the latter. In the pre-internet age, making a game Adults Only would have killed any chance of it turning a profit. And, while removing a title from retailers shelves may seem major even now, the people that want the game will purchase it online and get a download key or the like. If they want a physical disc instead, they can order it from the company, and will likely be given a key while they wait. In fact, an Adults Only rating would only serve as free publicity.

          I have seen games earn the Adults Only rating. I have watched as they were banned from sale in Wal-Marts, Gamestops, and many digital marketplaces. The fact that they were officially deemed heinous by the ESRB was not taken lightly. But any other game earning a lesser rating that does not gain national news attention for one reason or another? ‘Eh… must not be so bad’ echo the thoughts of most people. This acceptance assures that any game can be easily accessed by anyone. Even though I have gamed most of my life and view video games as a burgeoning artistic medium, there is a part of my brain that is conditioned to think of them as “just toys for kids”. And the games’ industry benefits from this social perception, both from myself, other gamers, and the world at large.

          To illustrate, there were children that I cared for that I allowed to play Saints Row IV, a game series much like GTA. It holds a rating of Mature. Why, if the content was not suitable for them, did I allow them to play it? Because I knew which part of the game they would play. I got their file to a free roaming sandbox portion, showed them how to access a garage for vehicles, change their load outs, and where to shop for clothes and even five years out that’s what they think Saint’s Row is. A fun game to dress up, drive around, and use super powers in. They never got into the story, character development, dialogue, and the bulk of what makes the game mature. They had similar play habits in similar, yet more kid-friendly, titles such as the Lego video games.

          But let us say that one finds my actions with the children appalling. That my supervision was not enough. That my foreknowledge of the the game itself and the playing behaviors of the children was negligent. That I was not a dutiful parental figure. And so we make our Grand Theft Auto, Fortnite, Call of Duty, and other questionably violent game series Adult Only. If your aim is to limit access to the games, it does nothing. It just means that sales of these games migrate from physical to online.

          If re-rating games would do no good, why not take other measures? Perhaps ban games like GTA from being brought to completion in the first place? On the one hand, the Video Game Lobby would push to counter these efforts. As I pointed out, it generates too much money to be written off. On the other, remember the digital marketplaces I mentioned? Even now independent creators make games and post them without ESRB sanctioning. Some companies and platform holders (e.g. Nintendo, Microsoft, Sony)are more exacting when it comes to quality control. Without an ESRB rating, these companies will not allow games to be sold on, through, and for their platform(s). And while the PC market has checks and balances, they are comparatively lax. Some of the most heinous “games” (a term I am using very loosely here) I have ever seen exist in the gutters of Steam. And much like society at large, they thrive in numerous pockets. You take down one and, not only will more just like it take its place, but the original game is likely to be taken down and uploaded again as something else. It’s a whack-a-mole that cannot be won unless you want to take drastic action.

          Now… do I want to see this happen? Do I want more games to be bumped up from Mature to Adults Only? I personally do not care. I am old enough to buy whatever games I wish. But you know what? As ineffectual as I think it would be, and as much evidence as I have seen showing that video games and shootings are unrelated on the whole, I would be willing to abide by a more stringent rating system.

          That said, my abdication comes with one single ongoing condition:

Blame whatever you want, but if you identify a problem, fix the problem.

          I’ve informed you what can be done about video games. If this is where you want to place the fault today… okay. Let’s make games with realistic and gruesomely violent conent harder to access for people who do not have enough external real life experience to contextualize what they are playing. (Ignoring for now how video games aided me in being able to contextualize so much of real life. A discussion for another time.) If, in the wake of another/the next shooter, you are going to point the finger at mental health? Vote for robust healthcare so people get the help they need. Enable that medications are affordable to help keep brain chemistry in check. Improve the quality of life of people so they aren’t driven to violent and deadly outbursts, or perhaps so much medical care to begin with. An ounce of prevention being worth a pound of cure and all. Want to blame them being an outlier, racial supremacist and other radical ideologue? Then figure out what lawful measures there are to eliminate them wholly, from the fruit back down to the root. Don’t just denounce them and then tolerate them as they continue to spread hatred and foment terror. Peter denied Jesus Christ three times, but we still regard him as a faithful apostle. Don’t continue to pay lip service by pointing to a problem. Something has to be done at this point, and sooner than later.

As I was finishing up, Facebook reloaded and this was front and center.

          In answer to the question “Do video games increase the potential of violence/mass shooting?” thirty years worth of science and study says no. Additionally, counties that have a larger population of gamers than the United States do not suffer from widespread gun violence. We may not be able to prove the mental soundness of each individual shooter. And things like manifestos and social media profiles can be spoofed if you want to give all sides their due.

          All of these incidents have one common element beyond the shadow of a doubt. All of these killings were perpetrated by people with guns fine tuned to kill a multitude. Even with the current safeguards and measures we have in place, gun violence is still all too common. As what we are doing is not enough, more must be done. Referring back to Trevor Noah, we have to try something. If today it’s my turn with games, that is fine. If, after cutting at every other factor, gun-driven violence is still a problem will it then be time make compromises regarding firearms?

I am willing to Try, Do, and abide to something different in my life and industry to make the America safer.

Are you?

Is there any action that can be taken on video games to mitigate gun violence?           An Open Letter to Politicians and any concerned that video games add drastically to the number of incidents of gun violence and mass shootings.

#Social Commentary #Video Games

[knightofbalance-13]

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/160161209960/rwde-theory-reactions-to-everything#notes

Oh boy...

By the looks of it, people tend to get offended on the characters’ behalf. People don’t believe that characters would do a certain action, or react a certain way.

The question that I’m going to at least try to answer, is “Why?”

Why do we want these characters treated a certain way?

Replace “people” with “the rwde tag and it’s detractors” then you’d be right. And we already know why you get offended on people’s behalf: In the case of Yang, you get angry because you project your family problems onto Taiyang despite the fact that multiple people have attested that’s not what you say. For Sun, it’s because you think he’s being abusive and yet ignore Adam’s abuse. And for Jaune....bias and to bash the writers.

Whether it be because the fans share the same experiences as them, or personalities, or simply because we think they’re ‘cool,’ - We relate to them.

This is why I think that people get so passionate about how these characters are being treated. If we were in their shoes, we would want the same level of respect.

Here’s the thing: you AREN’T them! As much as you relate to characters, that doesn’t make you them at all. You don’t have their experiences, personality, family and expectations. You aren’t them so what is offensive to you may not be to them, as shown by the numerous people who have told you that their families operate in the same way Yang and Taiyang does.

If this is why I have a beef with Tai, I’d like to share my reasons:

We already know why you have a beef with him: He doesn’t operate how you wanted him to, you project problems he cannot control onto him and you get encouragement to do so. No matter what you say, this is the truth built through observation and evidence such as admitting that Taiyang might not be offensive but refusing to take that route despite all the evidence says you should or that you directly compare your mom to him, who you hate, or that your stance on him was neutral at first but has degraded as more and more people egg you on.

For starters, we (as the audience) never really knew anything about Taiyang Xiao Long. The only things that we knew about him were the fact that he shut down after Summer’s death, and that he has a tendency to send dogs through the mail.

- (incidentally, I believe that Zwei started as a therapy dog.)

Those were the only things we knew about Tai. So, having him say such things like “You lost some brain cells with that arm of yours.” Comes out of nowhere for us (or at least, me.) Again, Port and Oobleck wereshocked by this, and rightfully so. Had Yang not laughed, the professor and doctor would have been scaredSHITLESS about Yang’s mental health.

Okay, first off:

A. The argument that Yang’s laugh can’t be taken into account about Taiyang being offensive is akin to saying that Yang was a terrible sister in Volume 1 if you exclude that time she was running to save Ruby’s life: it’s cruical and important and taking it out just makes you wrong and not the writers.

B. You act as though Taiyang did nothing from the moment we saw him in Volume 3 to Volume 4, Episode 4 whereas we see on at least four different occasions he’s a kind and caring father and thus that is established. Just as well, you can draw conclusions on a person by who their friends and family are. Port is not above insulting his students to teach them a lesson and Oobleck can be harsh as well. And then we have Qrow and Yang herself. Qrow is Taiyang’s long time teammate, brother in law and probable partner and he himself has insulted and criticized his nieces before as well and Yang herself has ditched Ruby to be on her own the moment they got to Beacon. These four examples show that Taiyang keeps the company of harsh but well meaning individuals. And then there’s the fact that Rooster Teeth VA’s share quite a few aspects of their personality with their characters, especially RWBY characters as Monty outright designed quite a few of them around the VAs. And Taiyang’s voice is provided by Burnie Burns, a fatherly member of RT...and one of the biggest snarkers in history, to the point the Lenoard Church isn’t that far off. All of these things point to the fact that what taiyang did wasn’t OOC but actually expanding on his character, his company clues us in that he’s like that and his VA supports that.

So you don’t have a point to stand upon here.

Now, I’m not trying to demonize Tai here (though I know that Kob will try to find a way to make it sound like I did), but this means that the writers don’t exactly understand how PTSD works, or at least, they don’t know how to present it.

A. You aren’t trying to demonize Taiyang here, you’re trying to demeonize the writers. 

B. Tv Tropes disagrees as U have shown that in the meta folder of the Awesome tag for RWBY, an actual Amputee praised Rooster Teeth for their work. So, as a person without an amputated arm, you have less of a reason to find it offensive.

They skipped over many things. Like Yang’s reaction to having to take off the arm, or how to emphasize that it was her decision alone and not because she overheard Tai’s conversation with her teachers, or what events led her to trying to go out on her own.

So? I can’t think of anything to cut out of Volume 4 as everything was so abre bones due to the fact that RT can’t make any more episodes or longer episodes of RWBY without losing money. RWBY’s primary focus is to make money, that’s how companies work.And what you are demanding would lose them money. Not to mention the fact that they have to work with 3D animation which is harder than 2D and have a very limited amount of time, espeically when you take RWBY chibi into account,

Boiling it down to the little that we see comes off as the writers only fulfilling the barest minimum requirement of what to represent. At this point, I don’t care about the prosthetic (so don’t even bother with that tvtropes entry) what I care about, is how PTSD was represented.

Probably because that’s all they can do and afford in that time span. RWBY isn’t on a major network nor is it backed by a huge company nor is it the sole project of Rt nor does it even make money to watch it. \

And once again, people in the group you are being offended for are fine with it. Maybe not everyone but unless it’s a majority, that’s just human subjectivity.

Also: You said you’d be talking about Taiyang and now you’re ranting about teh writing. Not a great omen.

Again, there have been other shows that have handled PTSD with more respect than RWBY. If Legend of Korra can do it, then I’d expect that RWBY, a show that one of the writers seems to believe is better than LoK (if his comments are to be believed), should have no problem.

A. Legend Of Korra had a previously established background and basis, ahd more eperience behind it, more money behind it and more time behind it.

And B. Miles just said he personally didn’t like it. Not professionally, personally. Of course, I doubt you know the difference.

Who is at fault here?

Nobody wants to see their favorite character being mistreated by canon. It simply implies that the writers hate them. But, I do think that we shouldn’t blame the characters for how they treat other characters.

We should blame the writers.

No, you are to blame for expecting something when the signs say something else, for not accommodating to what the creator wants to do and not you, for expecting to judge RWBY by standards it can’t possibly meet and for ignoring facts just to bash the writers. 

PS: Then why did you make several posts bashing characters and not writers? This whole thing is just an excuse to bash what you want isn’t it?

So, this is me saying it right now: I blame miles and Kerry for how Yang’s PTSD was misrepresented.

No, you are to blame for not comprehending that what you expected out of Yang’s PTSD wasn’t exactly what you got and taking that personally.

They used the lowest common denominator (Giving her only one on-screen nightmare, and only one on-screen panic attack) to ‘represent’ what Yang is dealing with.

That or teh bare bones is all they can manage: not like Maya is expensive or that Rooster Teeth isn’t a major studio or anything.

Her nightmares are never brought up again. Her panic attack is never mentioned after she had it. Those symptoms just… disappear. Never to be seen or heard from again.

As is a lot of stuff in RWBY, even before Volume 4.

Also, Charon’s chairman wasn’t heard from again after Season 8, guess we’ll never see him aga-He’s the main antagonist for Seasons 11 - 13. Well now I feel foolish.

I mean, Armed and Ready pretty much left no doubt that Yang is fully recovered, and I don’t want that yet. I want to see her overcome her fears and trauma. I want to see her confront people who have abandoned her (both physically and emotionally (which means that Tai will also be called out here)). And I just want to see her being allowed to resent the people who basically left her.

And yet when someone points out the fact that Yang has left people and hurt people as well, you get defensive and said she’s allowed to do that stuff. You don’t want Yang to get angry, you want her to get angry on your behalf even if it doesn’t make sense for her.

We also have the problem of the disconnect between the writers, and the actors

*Narrows eyes* You asshole, you better not!

- This means that if they have any objections to what is being said and/or done, they don’t have any say in it. They can’t object because, they’ve already written it, and have likely already animated it.

Ad libbing or on teh spot editing, such as the Maidens.

And you can’t animate something before doing voice work: It never works. That’s just stupid and shows how little you know about Rt’s production.

Like I said before, only jaune gets that kind of interaction with the writers. If (for example) Kerry were to write a scene that makes jaune look OoC, miles would object to it. But if they were to do the same with Sun, then Michael has no time to object because they’ve already written it.

Or maybe the OOC moment was used to make the character look vunerable or emphasize an emotion, like Blake Slapping Sun like Arryn said. But she was forced into that by Miles right? Not like you have used it to defend yourself from criticism, thus showing you only want stuff to apply to others, not you.

If an actor/actress has a problem with how something is done, they would object to it, and the writer would adjust accordingly. But the RWBY actors/actresses don’t get that kind of treatment. Because miles, Kerry, and Grey are too arrogant about their writing abilities.

Or you have a massive hate goner for the writers as well as a bias against males so you inject flaws into stuff to bitch about. Considering Miles has publicly put himself down numerous times, the latter is probably correct.

People would give them less heat if they were to get a woman to help them write. Or perhaps even a Black person, so they could write the White Fang better.

@tumblezwei @ula-star and @rainbowloliofjustice are all females and they have no problem with the writing if female characters.

Liekwise, @rainbowloliofjustice and @mageknight14 are members of racial minorities and they find nothing offensive with the White Fang.

Meanwhile, you a White male is being offended. Says a lot.

Huh. Maybe that’s why everyone hates the male characters so much. There’s only one gender writing the show into the ground.

The uh higher ratings, better reviews, more positive feedback and actual women disagreeing with you says otherwise.

Between how jaune kept harassing Weiss in Volume 2, and how Pyrrha was only written in to basically be a martyr and jaune’s love interest, there seems to be a disconnect between how the show was marketed (Being a show that focuses on four independent female characters who kick some ass) and what we have been presented with (Jaune & RWBY)

If Jaune harrassed Weiss then Pyrrha harrassed Jaune so that argument is mute.

Hey uh Dudeblade, Kamina from tengen toppa Gurren Lagann’s on the phone. He said that all mentor characters are like that and that he got less character development than Pyrrha. He also said that he was based off a woman, is replaced by a woman and is succedded by a woman so sexism is mute here too,

Jaune and his 5:52 minutes of screentime and Yang’s 16:32 minutes.

Now, I am a straight male myself, so I don’t know what they’re going through exactly.

And yet you will claim to speak for them here. Meanwhile, the three bisexuals I work with have made a post detailing why 90% of what you are about to say is bullshit. (https://team-crtq.tumblr.com/post/160160464449/rwby-and-ships)

Even I have more of a right to be offended since I’m some weird demi-heterosexual hybrid.

So… Anyone want to defend RT on how they made Weiss the “Morally Grey” character despite her being a blatant racist?

@mageknight14 and @rainbowloliofjustice , two African Americans, will as will I since Weiss had very good reason to think that way seeing as the only Fanaus she ever knew where the terrorists going around making her life hell. 

Seriously. Weiss being a racist is not a morally grey thing. The Schnee Dust Company using unfair faunus labor is not a “Morally Grey“ area.

And once again, you miss the point of teh character. Weiss dDOESN’T approve of this and she doesn’t like ebing associated with that because she disagrees with it. The only thing black and white here is your morality,

The writer’s attempts to actually write racism was pretty much racist. The only benefit I’m giving them is that they’re too incompetent to actually write it in the first place. - That’s it.

Considering the fact that you made an innocent implication that every single Fanaus was a member of the White Fang and thought like the White Fang, you are not one to talk.

Yeah, I have a bias towards the female characters, but the show was advertised as one that would be about four kickass female characters fighting monsters, and having an adventure.

And that excuses your bias how exactly? All this tells me that no matter what you say, you will always demand that the females get special treatment and shaft the males.

So why are they constantly getting the shaft?

Volume 4 was the first time that the collective male lines were larger than the first, and it was the second time that jaune had a spot in the top 3.

Okay, let’s modify the line post shall we?

Take away 75% of Jaune’s lines and give them to Ruby because tehy were all spent developing Ruby and making Ruby look better.

Erase Sun and Taiyang entirely and give their lines to Blake and Yang

Erase Ghira’s lines outside of the White Fang alone (no Blake) and he’ll have three or four.

Form where I am standing, the only male character who isn’t being used as a tool to build up a female character is Qrow and Iroonwood....Two males. Women aren’t getting the shaft and the previously mentioned ladies agree with me.

didn’t sign in to watch jaune talk to Ruby, I signed on to see Ruby get development.

Those two things go hand in hand: Most of Jaune’s talking is to develop Ruby. You got what you wnated, it just wasn’t exactly what you wanted so you’re bitching.

The girls shouldn’t need a male character to express for them. They should be strong, independent women.

Even if it’s in character for them? Like say, the character refuses to process things themselves so another character has to help them out. You essentially want the sexes to be completely separate from each other. 

Or you want them to essentially be islands of people. ... You know, they use to tell me that too. It’s now called Toxic Masculinity. Guess Men and Women are completely and totally different huh? (Sarcasm)

But if you absolutely need to have a male character help out one of the leading female characters, Blake could have had that lesson that Sun gave her given to her from her father, and there would be no problem. - Mostly because Ghira didn’t abandon his team.

Except Ghira doesn’t know what Blake is doing, doesn’t know the circumstances and isn’t one of ehr friends so the sentiment is meaningless.

Also: Ghira abandoned the White Fang by your logic and let them become terrorists by your thought process so it still doesn’t work.

I was only annoyed by Sun in Volume 4. But Sun wandered into hate territory for me when Blake was about to open up to her father about what happened. It wasn’t even a good joke. It was the media equivalent to showing a starving man a sandwich, then throwing it out. It was just cruel. Who asked for that to happen? - Which fan actively wanted that to happen?

And who said she was going to open up so easily considering teh fact she had been running away each time? Who is to say that Ghira would have gotten through huh?

Also: I guess you wanted Illa to film the Belladonnas, go to Adam and have Adam come in and kill everyone jsut so you can shove Sun out of a scene huh?

Now, you may be wondering why I dislike the writers so much.

Because they aren’t catering to your every whim and they aren’t doing what you want exactly.

Well, it’s because they’re shit at taking criticism. But, also because their cultish defenders are constantly making excuses for them.

The only cult i see is the one that suicide baits people,manipulates the facts, sets unrealistic standards, attacks anyone who criticizes them and thinks they’re radical ideals are always right,

If these guys want to be considered a “Professional production company,” then they should also have to take the criticisms that come along with it.

That’s like judging a newly created video game studio to the standards set by Nintendo: You ask a much smaller,much elss experienced company to meet standards created by decades of experience. I don’t judge RWBY as I would Kill La Kill: Studio Trigger have far more advantages. I judge RWBY as I would TFS, even harsher considering RWBY is an original IP: As a well known, respectable but ultimately small project. And if things don’t go my way: tough, that's who art works. And I’ll enjoy it regardless instead of drowning in my own bile.

If they’re an “Ammeter production company,” then they should need all the help that they can ge

But you’re noyt helping: You just want things to go your way so you try to bully people using mob mentality and big buzz words and use people’s prejuice against them. You are just being petty and hateful.

Point being, is that while I’m not going to pretend that the entirety of the rwde tag is constructive, criticism is criticism. Doesn’t matter how it’s put.

Okay then, i guess it’s perfectly right for me to say:

“You’re a piece of shit and everything you do is shit now either do exactly as I say or else”(Don’t actually endorse this)

I guess from now on I’ll keep you to the same standard I do RWBY...or you could push it and I’ll expect Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann levels of writing.

I can prove it, too. There was once a guy named Semmelweis. This guy was one of the leading pioneers in sanitation techniques. Even before Louie Pasteur. But, you may be thinking, “Why haven’t I heard of this guy before?”

- Because he was a dick. He was still right, but he was a dick who was rude to others.

And if Semmelweis was just trying to make people do as he told without any regard for what was right, only what HE thought was right then he deserved to be forgotten and he deserved to be wrong and ignored because he was just bending people to his will, just like you do.

Rwde tag is Semmelweis, or at least, some of it is. Rwde may be dicks, but rwde tag still has a point.

Said point is to terrorize, bully and manipulate people to get what they want through logical fallacies, mob mentality and slander.

Fuck the people who think that the rwde tag is full of hate.

The people in the rwde tag are just sick and tired of the mistakes that the writers could easily avoid by having more writers, or having an editor who isn’t afraid and is willing to be rough with them.

And yet you yourself will brush off any criticism towards you as blind devoution or blind hate or whatever, thus showing taht you just want things to go your way.

Well then, things are gonna go your way. *A sleek, metallic humanoid robot appears behind him, gear-like eyes glowing meancingly* Consider me your editor.

#rwde bullshit #rwby

[brood-mother]

hey, i'm super into your 'the sun sets on us' blurb/board on pinterest. can you say more about the story? it looks super interesting

of course, yeah! it’s still in its infancy so i don’t even have definite names for the main characters yet (umm let’s call the them middle sis jara, little bro elan, and big bro amal for purpose of this i guess?). i’ll put it behind a read more because i am going to go IN on this bc i don’t get to talk about it often and i am excited abt it. edit: i definitely got carried away but it felt good to air it out, thank you.

anyway, the basic premise is that in this universe, magic is an inherently destructive force. it is capable of doing fantastic, unbelievable things, but it requires a lot of energy, and typically consumes that energy in the form of life-force. magic users, if they regularly use magic, have a dramatically reduced life-span (even magic users who totally abstain from using magic can expect to live to 60 at the absolute most, a good 20 or so years less than a normal person). magic use blackens and scorches the flesh. magic users are constantly hungry, and run at unnaturally high temperatures because of the perpetual unnatural energy generation in their bodies. however, it is possible to draw that life-force from other people and even the environment around you, and as such in most places seek to eradicate magic with extreme prejudice.

the siblings live in one such country with their father; their mother, a magic user like jara, has already passed away naturally. they live in almost total isolation to protect jara from persecution (although relatives of magic users are also treated abysmally whether they show talents or not), but when war breaks out in the land, conscription is enforced, and every family must provide at least one able bodied adult to join the army. the father immediately volunteers, so as to stop anyone from sniffing around, but shortly thereafter the siblings are forced to flee their home without him or be swallowed up in the violence. 

at first they are comfortably anonymous in a tide of refugees, but eventually it becomes hard to hide. other magic users flushed out by the war are caught, persecuted. people are scared, angry; scapegoatism is rife, and an actual witch-hunt begins. with nowhere to hide and so little experience of the ‘real’ world, the siblings are forced to flee. they run aimlessly for a while until they realise the only place they could ever be safe is a secluded, insular, frozen land far to the north. most southerners only know of it through fearful hearsay and myths, but it is rumoured magic is seen as a boon, and magic users are like gods among mortal men. 

the journey there is treacherous; they must first make it to the northern coast of their own country, cross the sea, and then trek across a great barren wasteland to reach it. on the way, they encounter many obstacles, not least of all a dragon (dragons, while exceedingly rare and quite dangerous, are not devastating beasts in this world; they’re sort of on the same level as a polar bear, maybe, if polar bears could breath fire). while it should be easy enough for them to defeat with jara’s magic - she is naturally inclined to a particularly destructive type of magic known as entropy, which causes poison, decay, unconsciousness, etc -  if they work together, amal panics and freezes, allowing elan to be mauled badly enough that he nearly dies, and has to have his arm amputated, which widens the schism in their already strained relationship.

eventually they reach their destination. they spend several weeks on the outskirts, among common folk with no magic. the land is barren and inhospitable, and the eke a modest existence as farmers, labourers, hunters, etc. while not technically oppressed, non-magic users are almost seen as second-class citizens; they’re used for their superior physical strength and health/longevity and rarely raise above that station, and are often excluded from ‘magic-only’ spaces and the upper echelons of society. magic is essentially a ticket to the aristocracy, regardless of birth. jara uses this to her advantage, and tries to find a space for herself with elan and amal posing as her servants so that they are permitted where other non-magic users aren’t.

it doesn’t work, at least not initially. while she is a magic user, she is still a foreigner in a very deliberately insular country. she is generally looked down upon, mistrusted and scoffed at for being untrained and reluctant to use her magic. she eventually garners enough ire to be challenged but another young woman; they skirmish, and jara manages to defeat her, but only just. this catches the attention of a particularly wealthy and powerful man, for whom the other woman was an apprentice (rather than standard blood inheritance laws, magic-users have apprentices who compete for the right to inherit their wealth, rank, legacy, etc, and apprentices in return contractually bind themselves to their master’s service). he releases her, and instead offers his apprenticeship to jara.

jara accepts immediately. while it is obvious that the competition between apprentices is ruthless, even a failed apprentice is held in good esteem and can live comfortable lives. she sees it as an opportunity to secure a better life for her and her brothers. all is well at first: she finds the magic-users strange and intimidating, with their gold-dipped hands to hide their burnt flesh, elaborate head-dresses meant to represent their magical aura, and clothes of sheer wispy material to prove that they don’t feel the cold, but she enjoys learning and shows great natural talent. she is even surprised to find she actually gets along with her master’s other apprentice, yulia, and they become close friends very quickly.

for a while, things go very well for jara. her talents grow tenfold. she experiences a wealth of new things she’s never tried before. for the first time in her life, she is able to be unapologetically herself. for the first time in her life she is not made to feel like a burden, a liability, or a mistake. for the first time in her life, she is not hungry. she even sees many older magic-users, those living well beyond the expected age in her home country, which gives her hope and confidence.

meanwhile, without jara’s knowledge, things develop differently for the brothers. jara’s master takes a particular interest in amal. he considers amal to be a ‘perfect psychical specimen’, and appears to think very highly of him - for a non-magic user. he wants to train him to be his personal guard and assistant. amal is easily flattered, and eagerly agrees, and is naively unconcerned by the apparent need for secrecy. 

as both a non-magic user, and physically ‘deformed’, elan is largely neglected by everyone - including his own siblings, who are suddenly busy with their own training. he becomes (more) moody and withdrawn, his resentment of amal grown to toxic levels, and only finds solace in the unexpected companion ship of the master’s current bodyguard, tymo, a strange and quiet man with a creeping terminal illness. as they become closer and tentatively explore their feelings for each other, he confides in elan about his master’s horrid mistreatment of him, and the reason his morbid interest in amal: he is obsessed with the idea of “blessing” non-magic users with the gift of magic, but it can only work on those with magic already in their blood - like amal, and like tymo. he’s tried the experiment on dozens of ‘guards’ but their bodies cannot handle the strain, and the few that survive sicken and die as tymo is.

things take a turn for the worse for jara. her studies begin to tread in areas of magic that she doesn’t care to learn, namely how to siphon the life-force of things to lessen the tax of magic-use. at first it is only plants, fruits, even the earth itself. her natural inclination towards entropy means she is exceptionally proficient at it. then they move on to livestock, and finally, her master presents her with a human - a magicless member of the household staff. at first she refuses and the master tries to sooth and flatter her, insisting that even sweet yulia had completed the lesson, and yulia wasn’t nearly as accomplished as she was. jara still refused, and the master becomes enraged at that point - he needs her magic to conduct his experiments, and as his apprentice she all but belongs to him. he threatens to use elan and amal in the next lessons if she fails to comply and, terrified, she does.

she watches the damaged flesh on her hands smooth and heal. she feels stronger than she has in months, the weariness of her magic use washing away, and she realises this is what allows the mages to live as they do. their magnificent buildings, the forever-blooming gardens, even the ability to grow food in such an unforgiving landscape - it’s all beyond the reach of natural magic. they use the non-magic citizens like batteries.

jara realises in that exact moment that both she and her brothers are in grave danger, and the only way she can ensure their safety is to play along. she acts as though she finally realises the true extent and appeal of her power, and that she understands what her master desires of her. as soon as she is away from him, she begins to plan her escape. she turns to yulia, her closest and indeed only friend, for help. she knows the master has forced her to do such horrible things too, and jara wants her to escape with them. she also tells her brothers.

at first amal refuses to believe it until tymo himself explains what his fate was to be. they agree a time and a place to meet so that they might all flee together. however, when the night comes, yulia and tymo are waiting for the siblings but something is off: once they are within sight tymo cries out that it’s an ambush, and that yulia had betrayed them to gain favour with the master. the trio manage to escape, but only just, and tymo is left behind.

they make it to a safe place, but elan cannot forgive himself for leaving tymo behind. he goes back in the hopes that he can free him somehow, and is caught. however, rather than being killed or tortured for the whereabouts of jara and amal, the master offers him a deal. he will give him tymo. he will give him an amazing functional prosthetic arm. he will even use magic to extend tymo’s pitifully short life, like he had his own. 

elan accepts. he provides a location, and his granted his boon, and while the master and yulia go to collect his siblings he is told to wait in the castle with tymo. he doesn’t wait: the information he gave the master was false, and he manages to escape the guards and flee with tymo back to their true hiding place.

the master anticipated this. he put a tracking spell on tymo, and is lead right to their position. in the cold and freezing forest, they fight. it nearly kills her, sapping her strength until her entire body is tortured and scorched from the exertion, but in the end, jara comes through victorious by draining the very life from her master until he crumbles to dust, betraying herself and her morals, but saving her family. 

she then has to make one final agonising choice: does she stay and inherit her master’s vast estate where they can live in comfort in a rotten land, or go back on the run where they can never rest but will always be free? either way, she knows she must fight to protect every single day of her life.

#this is the first time i wrote it out like that and i'm tired now #this is longer than some fic i've wrote lol #star-lord

[pyropsychiccollector]

What-If #01, Scene #03

Premise: Zeref and Natsu aren’t born 400 years prior to the series; instead, they’re born in X763 and X766 respectively, and their family eventually settles around the area of Isvan. Circumstances make the brothers orphans, but Ur Milkovich takes them in, and so Ultear gains siblings… and becomes the middle child. Lovely.

Scene’s Point in Time: X777

~.~

Zeref: So... This is a Wizard Guild. *he and his siblings are standing outside Fairy Tail with Makarov, with a scarce few belongings on their backs*

Makarov: Yup. It's called Fairy Tail.

Natsu: That's a weird name...

Makarov: Well, nobody knows whether or not fairies have tails, or if they even exist! So it'll forever be a mystery. Unless we try to find out, which could become an amazing adventure. And our members are the ones who want to find out.

Ultear: Sounds cheesy. *Zeref lightly flicks her on the forehead* OW!

Natsu: Well, I don't get it... But it sounds awesome! ^__^

Zeref: *soft smile* You may be right, Natsu.

Ultear: *massaging her temple* You always take his side... *grumble grumble*

Natsu: Yeah! 'Cause I'm awesome! :D

Zeref: *raises an amused eyebrow at Ultear* 'Always', huh? So I just imagined myself helping you in keeping Natsu and Gray from burning down that hotel we stayed at a while back.

Ultear: That's just common sense, and you know it! -_-*

Makarov: [Heh. These kids will fit right in...]

~.~

Silver: So, you guys came out here after all.

Zeref: *faint smile* Ur took up the position of Wizard Saint with the promise that we would. I'm sure you recall how dangerous the area was getting.

Silver: *laughs* Yeah, Isvan wasn't for the faint of heart to begin with. Glad we got out when we did, and that you guys did, too. I know you guys can handle yourselves, but I still say Isvan's no place for kids. Gray tries to hide it, but he was worried about you three. *he, Zeref, and Ultear watch as the aforementioned boy starts to brawl with Natsu*

Ultear: Yes, well... Now mother is handling it. She... *pauses as a redhead spontaneously breaks up the fight between Natsu and Gray, shoving them both in the face, away from one another, Inexplicably, to her anyway, Ultear begins twitching* ... Who's the Ironing Board?

Zeref: *lets out a barely perceptible amused snort*

Silver: Ah, I was waiting for Erza to lose her patience. She's only been here a year, but she's really left her mark. You're better off not inciting her wrath 'til you get stronger.

Zeref: ... *watches with an amused grin as Ultear stomps over to the scarlet knight, after the new acquaintance threw both their Natsu and Gray into the wall, leaving craters from the brute force involved* Oh, I don't think Ultear has anything to worry about.

Silver: *raised brow in curiosity* Gotten stronger in the last two years, have you?

Zeref: *shrugs nonchalantly* We had to, in order to stay safe in Isvan. I can't vouch for the strength of this 'Erza', but if Ultear can't at least stay about even with her, I'll be surprised. Natsu... should get some more training in, but he isn't weak by any means.

Silver: *laughs boisterously again* So those two are about the same in terms of pecking order. *playfully smirks at the raven-haired boy* What about you? Last I checked, you were trailing behind those two, despite hitting the books.

Zeref: *smirks right back, but then turns back to Ultear and Erza, who are still engaged in a shouting match* ... I am... adequate.

Silver: *rolls his eyes* That attitude of yours always irritated me. It seems more deceptive than actual humility... But at the same time, you really don't take pride in what you can do.

Zeref: ... I wouldn't go that far. I can protect Natsu and Ultear - that is good enough for me.

Makarov: That's an honorable mindset to have, lad. *grins as he got both Silver and Zeref to jump at his sudden appearance next to them*

Silver: M-Master... Didn't see you there. *rubs the back of his head as the elderly Dreyar chuckles*

Makarov: Well, Zeref here hasn't done much as of yet, so I wanted to take some time to get to know the lad. I'm especially curious about something Miss Milkovich wrote about in that letter you gave me.

Zeref: ...

Silver: Oh? Something we should be worried about?

Makarov: Not exactly... Though I'm certain the Council, if they knew about it, would want you to believe that, just so that they could get their hands on Zeref here. It's related to something he did about a year ago, to protect his siblings... Would you like to join us in my office, Silver?

Silver: *lazily eyes the still squabbling girls before shrugging*  Eh. Why not? Kinda curious why the Council would be keenly interested in Zeref.

~.~

*about ten minutes later...*

Silver: ... Lemme get this straight. You created a... protector for Natsu and Ultear? Just like that? *clearly baffled*

Zeref: It was nowhere near as simple as you're probably thinking... But yes. In response to a crisis that nearly killed Natsu and Ultear, I was somehow able to manipulate the concentrated Ethernano Particles in the air and create a... protector. I was desperate at the time. There was no physical way I alone could have saved the both of them. One of them most certainly would have died. To this day, I am still looking into how I accomplished this, though I do not want to repeat the process until I know more about this... ability of mine.

Makarov: *hums thoughtfully* An ignorant person might call you a monster for messing with nature. I find myself a bit wary, but I cannot deny your heart was in the right place. I can't blame you for being cautious in your curiosity.

Silver: So what happened to that protector? Did it just fade away?

Zeref: ... *reaches into his cloak and takes out a book with an intricate design on the cover* This is him. I know it's strange, but in response to some concerns of mine, he was somehow compressed into the form of this book. As far as I'm aware, he is completely loyal to me, and has vigilantly kept an eye on Natsu and Ultear when I cannot.

Makarov: *gingerly accepts the book from him and sets it on his desk, not daring to open it yet* And you've yet to fully uncover what he can do?

Zeref: He was quite fatigued after beating back the beast that had Ultear cornered, but he seems capable of drawing on more Ethernano from the air to recover, though it takes time.

Silver: And he uses... Magic? Just like us?

Zeref: That indeed seems to be the case. It's why he was fatigued during his first battle; being made of pure Ethernano, his attacks draw from his own life force. I imagine he can fade away if he's not too careful. Though, of course... he seems quite willing to die, if it means serving me. I find myself baffled at such loyalty, though I offer the same as a courtesy.

Silver: ... First battle? You mean he's fought since then?

Zeref: A handful of times, yes. As I said, he is vigilant in protecting my family. Similar to how we grow, however, he seems to be growing more powerful, as well. It's why I refuse to duplicate the process, because I don't know the extent of his capabilities, nor do I know what will happen if he becomes 'too' powerful.

Makarov: *rubs his chin thoughtfully* But you say he is completely loyal to you.

Zeref: Yes. There is no question there. Down to the genetic level, it seems as if his sole purpose is to serve me. There's not a lot of free will in him, save for doing whatever it takes to protect what is precious to me. *soft smile* I imagine he's going to be working overtime in ensuring Fairy Tail is protected...

Makarov: Hmm. *slides the book back over to Zeref* Well, until he becomes a threat to our Guild, I will allow you to continue to call upon him. It's human nature to fear the unknown, but you evidently trust him, at least to an extent. *grins as Zeref returns the book to his cloak* I think anyone or anything should be given the benefit of the doubt. It's never good to start off with animosity; that will just encourage animosity from him, and a vicious cycle will begin. For now, just allow him to protect your family. In time, perhaps he will come to accept Fairy Tail as an extension of that.

Zeref: *nods in understanding*

Silver: *rubs his chin* So does this guy have a name? Or are we just supposed to refer to him as 'he' or 'thing'?

Zeref: *smiles wryly* I gave him the name Mard Geer. I don't think of him as a weapon, but it is because of him that I can protect Natsu and Ultear at all times. For that, I am grateful.

~.~

Notes: Hah. I didn't think I'd be addressing the Etherious this soon, let alone FT. I just felt like writing 'em both out. Since these are scenes, I figure I don't have to go the chronological route if my muse gets stumped. Be sure to keep an eye on the 'Point-in-Time', 'cause you might get confused otherwise with the jumping around we might do.

Did you like Silver popping up? I figured I'd cut the guy a break and let him live. ^__^ Same with his wife, of course.

One last thing on the Etherious in general - I made sure to do my research before writing this out. I'll grant you that it's possible Zeref was only able to create the Etherious because of Ankhseram's Curse, but considering they're made from Ethernano Particles (something that is in ABUNDANCE in this point of the FT series timeline), and Zeref's canonically a prodigy in grasping the fundamentals of Magic, down to the genetic level, I took some liberties here. Zeref isn't quite that know-it-all yet, but I figured I'd throw him a bone and have him do at least one amazing thing, even this early in life. He quite likely WON'T create all the Etherious he did in canon, but I think I have at least three in mind he could create as 'protectors' of his family, counting Mard Geer. That means you might see two more familiar faces in coming scenes, but drastically different in personality because they haven't tapped into their Curse Power yet, if ever. I just think it'd be very interesting to consider what Mard Geer, or Sayla, or any of the other 'Demons' would've been like if they hadn't spammed their Curses. They might not have been that bad all-around, especially if they're serving a not-nutty Zeref here. That's just my writer's interpretation; I'm a fanfiction writer. It's kinda my job to simply 'interpret'. Besides which, I'm NOT gonna think out all the details for this AU. This WILL be a hobby piece. lol I've got an antagonist in mind now, aaand maybe a threat to fill the void left behind by Zeref/Tartaros/Demons/etc. Y'know, a threat in conjunction with Acnologia. 'Cause Acnologia is beast, but not quite tantalizing enough on his own. Gotta build up to him. XD

#fairy tail #zeref dragneel #natsu dragneel #ultear milkovich #makarov dreyar #silver fullbuster

[jennygirl2014]

GSTC2: The Return of a Hero~Chapter 10

(A/N: sorry for the long ass wait! Now, I CANNOT REMEMBER ANYTHING ABOUT MY TAGGING LIST! So, if you want to be removed, shoot me a message, if you want to be added, let me know!)

              Desirae was walking along the side of the highway, half expecting to see Steve following her in his car, and yet he wasn’t anywhere in sight.  She couldn’t believe he had actually let her run off the way she did, and that he wasn’t coming after her.  Wasn’t that their usual story, him chasing her?  Maybe he was finally sick of it.  She hadn’t quite decided whether it was a good thing or a bad thing, she was happy to have the peace, but there was a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach knowing she was out on her own, watching cars go by, any one of them being driven by someone who could have wanted her dead.  She knew she wasn’t safe, but she also knew she could handle it.

              Her feet kept carrying her forward while she stuck her thumb out to her side, attempting to find a ride.  There was no way she could physically walk to New York, but maybe someone would be willing to at least give her a lift and she could get a little bit closer.  In the back of her mind she knew it was a stupid thing to do, she could easily jump into someone’s car and end up dead, but she truly believed that she had what it took to keep herself out of harm’s way.  She was a commander after all, it’s not like she didn’t have any training. Or course things were different since the accident but that wasn’t about to stop her. 

              The journey grew boring and in an attempt to boost her motivation to keep going she grabbed her communicator and dialed her old friend, holding it like a phone to avoid giving it away or looking suspicious. It only rang twice before there as an answer.  “Hey Des.” Tina’s voice came through the receiver.  

“Hey, have you heard anything from Liz yet?” Desirae quickly remembered that nobody had heard from or seen Liz in some time, and she was worried.

“Nothing yet,” Tina sounded saddened at the thought, “I’ve been trying to call her now and again but still not getting anything.  I hope she’s…” she stopped midsentence, maybe sensing that discussing the possibility of their friends being dead wasn’t a topic they needed to be on.  “Where are you?”

“Still in Kansas, hoping to cross the state line soon but who knows how long that will take.” A car whizzed by her and honked.  Startled, she stuck her middle finger up in their direction as they sped off.

“Do I hear cars?”

“Yeah, I’m walking on the side of the high way.” She said it like it was nothing.

“What?” Tina sounded like she was in disbelief.

“I couldn’t take it anymore Tina, I just couldn’t be near him anymore.” She was referring to Steve.

“So what happened?”

“We got into a fight and now I’m hoofing it.” She explained.

“Did he kick you out of his car?!  Did he abandon you?!” Tina was panicking.

“No, no, I just had to get away from him.  That’s all. We were at a diner and I just had to…” she realized it sounded stupid, “It’s a long story.”

“So he’s not with you?”

“No I left him.” She answered, and then there was a long silence.  “Tina?”

“Des…are you serious?”

“What?  I’m fine!  I’m trying to catch a ride to-“ Tina cut her off.

“No! No, no, no, no, Desirae, go back!  Go find him, go back right now!” Tina sounded like she was lecturing her and it made her turn her nose up.  

“Why?” that was the last thing she wanted to do.

“Because it’s dangerous to be out there by yourself!  What it the matter with you?!  So what if you’re arguing?!  So what if you guys have a history, ignore the crap and go back where it’s safe!”

“I’ll be fine!  I can take care of myself!” Desirae defended herself, and another car blew by her.

“Do you hear yourself right now?  You’re walking on the side of a highway, trying to catch a ride from a stranger, when there are people out there looking for you!  Bad people.  People who want you dead, Des. What if someone picks you up and that’s the last thing that happens to you?”

“It won’t be.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I can take care of myself!” Des spit out without even thinking, and Tina let out a heavy sigh.

“Desirae,” she started, “You are a tough person, you really are.  But you have to listen to me, and I’m not trying to hurt your feelings or piss you off but…what if you’re not what you used to be?” Tina landed on the exact subject that was always running through the back of Desirae’s mind.  

“I’ll be fine.” She replied after drawing in a deep breath.  There were so many things to say in response to that statement, and yet she didn’t even where to start.

“He will keep you safe.” Tina still didn’t agree with her actions, and Des became fed up.

“Look, I know what I’m doing!  Don’t forget who you’re talking to, alright?  This is me.” She blurted out as her pace quickened.  

“Alright,” Tina begrudgingly gave in, “Just be safe.”

“I’ll get a hold of you later.” Desirae abruptly ended their conversation, and then hanging up and shoving her communicator into her pocket.

              The last thing she needed was someone putting any doubt in her mind, there already was that sense of doubt to begin with, but having anyone adding to it was not an option.  Each agitated step she took brought her closer to her destination, and although the road was straight ahead of her, she felt as if she were at a crossroad. There was one side of her that remembered who she was, she remembered being the confident and capable commander her unit depended on.  That woman could handle anything, and she damn well knew it.  But then there was the other side of her, the one that acknowledged what she had been through, the fact that her body ached and would never be the same again, and that she was damaged physically and emotionally.  The same side that had her crying over a broken romance, no matter how hard she wanted to deny it.  That woman was telling her to go back, whispering all of her fears in the back of her mind.  

              She walked on for several minutes, holding her thumb out, hoping someone courteous would be courteous enough to give her a ride, and that that someone wouldn’t put her in danger.  And as if her prayers were answered, someone pulled over, but it wasn’t a car, it was a red semi.  She slowed her walking as it clicked on its blinker and pulled up next to her.  A large man leaned over and shouted out the window to her.  “You need a ride, darling?” She didn’t care for the pet name, but she knew better than to pass up the opportunity simply because of that. She backed up a few steps to get a better look at the man, he was in his 50’s, and he had messy greying hair sticking out from under a dingy trucker’s cap.  Overall, he looked like a typical trucker, but she had guard up anyway.  

“Are you offering?” she called back to him.

“Where you heading?”

“East.” That was her only answer.

“Well hop on in.” he invited her into his truck.  She obliged, but quickly took a look around to make sure no one was watching her.  She placed her bag in her lap as she took a seat on the leather and looked around the cabin.  The man gave her a smile, showing that he was missing a few teeth, and the ones that were still hanging around were grossly discolored.  Instead of turning up her nose, she gave a meek smile back.

“Thanks.” She thanked him. He nodded and pulled back onto the highway.  

              The inside of the truck was exactly what she expected, crumpled up papers and napkins on the floor, empty soda cans and fast food bags, and in the cup holder was an open plastic up with some dark, gritty looking substance in it.  She didn’t have to guess what it was, he lifted the cup from the holder up to his mouth and spit into it.  She tried not to grimace as he set the filthy cup back into the holder, as if it weren’t anything at all.  Of course the chewing tobacco explained his cringe worthy smile.

“So where you headed?” The man asked her, and she didn’t answer right away, not knowing what to say, she had already given him an answer.  “Just east?”

“I’m figuring it out as I go.” She lied.  

“Oh, so you’re a drifter.” He tried to make conversation.

“I guess.” She didn’t feel like entertaining him with pointless drabble.  She was grateful for the ride, but just not in the mood for chatting.  

              Hours passed, and after what felt like an eternity of listening to the man babble on, and her giving short yet polite answers, the talking seemed to cease almost entirely.  It was interesting how she didn’t want to make small talk, and yet him going quiet made her feel uncomfortable.  She couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in his brain that suddenly made him go silent.  She kept her eyes on the road ahead for the most part, but caught him staring at her out of her peripheral every now and again.  It wasn’t the typical old man, creepy, sort of look, it was more like he was trying to figure her out.  

“What’s your name?” the man suddenly asked her.  She had to remember her alias.

“Julie.” She lied.  He was quiet for another minute.

“Where you from Julie?”

“Nowhere.” It was her polite way of telling him she wasn’t going to share that information.  He glanced at her again and then turned to the road.  After all of her training and all of her missions, she had developed a certain sense, a feeling in the pit of her stomach that would come up when something wasn’t right. That feeling suddenly came back.

              After another long period of silence the truck driver pulled off and onto an exit ramp, without informing her at all of what his plans were.  Her heartbeat quickened, but she sat there with a calm and collected face.  There was a large rest stop just off of the exit, where several trucks and trailers were lined up in a large parking lot.  He pulled up and parked his truck in between two others, the loud air brakes hissed and almost startled her.  That feeling stuck with her.  After turning off the engine the man turned and looked at her with a casual grin and his arm resting on the wheel.  

“Been on the road for a while,” he started, “Gonna turn in for the night.  You’re welcome to stay in the truck if you like.” He lowered his voice, “I got a cot in the back, it’s nice and cozy.” She wasn’t sure if he was trying to hit on her, or if there was something else going on.  

“Uh…” she had to think of the right way to word herself, “No thank you.  I appreciate it, but I have to keep moving.”  She reached for the handle to let herself out.  “But thank you, again, so much, for the ride.”  

“You be careful out there young lady.” His tone had changed, “I hope you get to wherever you’re going.”

              What should have been a warm pardon came out in a different way, at least in her mind.  She opened the door and hopped out of the truck without looking back.  It shook her up a bit, but she knew she had to keep moving.  She thought to herself, she had to have been closer to where she needed to go, but she had to figure out exactly where she was, and she had to remain discreet.  If she kept her head down then she would blend right in.  She thought it would be best to stock up on food while she had the opportunity, so while maintaining a cool demeanor she bought some granola bars and a couple bottles of water, and at the cash register she noticed several trinkets sporting in bold print the word “Missouri” hanging.  At least she was closer.  After making her purchase she walked back out into the parking lot, taking note that it was getting dark fast, and for the most part the truck stop was dead.  Standing there in that parking lot, looking around at a whole bunch of nothing, she felt lonely, and utterly lost.  

              A deep feeling of sadness and hopelessness washed over her.  Was she stuck in Missouri?  With very little money, a bag full of snacks, no gun, and nobody to help her?  Yes, that’s exactly the situation she was in. At that moment she regretted her actions, maybe she should have swallowed her pride a bit.  Maybe she should have stayed with Steve.  

              No.  She had to pull herself together and press on.  She was a woman warrior, damn it.  This was just a little hiccup is all.  After a few deep breaths she thought out her options, coming to the conclusion that after escaping whatever situation she was in with that truck driver, it may have been best to press on alone.  But how could she do that?  She could either march back onto the highway and keep walking, in the dark, and risk being run over, or possibly abducted, or, she could take a car.  She didn’t love the idea of it, but it sounded better than the other option.  

              While being as inconspicuous as possible she walked amongst the few cars that were parked outside, casually reaching her hand out to her side and checking door handles, chances are one had to have been unlocked, and she could hot wire it and get back on the road.  She checked almost every car in the lot with no success, cursing under her breath.  And then finally, the very last car she got to, a tiny Volkswagen beetle, the door popped open.  She quickly climbed in and ducked her head under the wheel, pulling down on the panel and getting to work.  It took her a few minutes to remember how to do the wiring, but with success and a smile of victory on her face, she was off and on the road again.  And as she drove back onto the highway and continued on, it suddenly hit her.  She stole a car.  That’s how low she was stooping, all of this just to get her sorry ass to New York. And why?  Why was she so unlucky to be in the position she was in?  She thought about Steve, and how she left him standing in that dusty parking lot after slapping him and causing a scene.  

Because karma’s a bitch, and it was out to get her.

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