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dwellordream · 3 years

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“…The common work of American pioneer children has become an essential story of frontier life. Less well known or acknowledged is that gender boundaries were often disregarded in the course of this experience. Daniel worked not only at tasks with his father but also at those normally seen as women’s work. To help his mother, he dyed cloth, carried water from the spring, helped to nurse the younger children, and cooked. His work was indeed diverse as he did what was needed with little complaint—or so he remembered years later when writing his memoir. Then at fifteen, he was separated from all of it—from his physical labor and from his pious parents (his mother’s favorite word was “wicked”). She was hardly indulgent of him, either in the work he was required to do or in the virtues he was expected to display while doing them.

Many boys did female work. Henry Clarke Wright, who became an outspoken educator and a radical abolitionist, spent his childhood helping his stepmother by babysitting, and much more. “He cleaned, he cooked, he washed.” In upstate New York, where his family lived in the early nineteenth century, he also did more masculine work “riding the horses, yoking and driving the oxen, bringing in the cows, harnessing and all the rest of the hard labor of the frontier farmer.” After his farming experience, Wright was left to become an apprentice in April 1814. Lonely, “home-sick” and with a “feeling of wretched- ness,” Wright learned to grow up fast. He also learned his own mind and how later to defend his extremely independent and unpopular views.

The American boys of the early republic grew early into independence. They were neither indulged nor coddled. They were given some say in the objects of their labor and, when possible, free time to play. But the children were also seen as “little citizens”—persons with capacity as well as potential. Some visitors were shocked by the results, but others were impressed. One Englishwoman observed, “You will see a little being that has not seen the sun make one circle of seasons, lay hold on a toy, not to cram it in his mouth and look stupidly at it, but to turn it curiously over, open it if he can, and peep in with a look as wise as that of a raven peeping into a marrow bone. One mark of early observation and comprehension never failed to excite my wonder. Little creatures feed themselves very early, and are trusted with cups of glass and china, which they grasp firmly, and carry about the rooms carefully, and deposit unbroken.”

There is, perhaps, a degree of exaggeration in such observations, finding the precocious engineer within the child not yet a year old. But in light of current findings by cognitive psychologists about the “scientist in the crib,” perhaps it is less a matter of exaggeration than a willingness to see even young children as more fully capable of independent thought and action than most Americans are accustomed to today. Americans at this time assumed that children needed less supervision and direction. This was true for girls as well as boys. By the time she was six years of age, Caroline Stickney (later Creevey), who grew up to be a nature writer, was expected to go to the doctor alone after she had fallen and severely injured her arm. It turned out to be broken.

“Mother was too busy to accompany me and there was nobody else. Besides children were taught to stand upon their own feet in these days.” Caroline’s regular tasks included bringing the cow to pasture in the morning and retrieving her at night, and, like Ulysses Grant, she was able from an early age to roam freely in the woodland that this future botanical enthusiast loved to explore and whose trees she climbed regardless of risk. At ten, she was allowed to ride the family horse; when she asked her father for directions to find a certain path, he made clear to her that she could find her own way.

Anna Howard Shaw had a more extreme experience, as her father sent his young family from Lawrence, Massachusetts, to which the family had migrated from England after Thomas Shaw’s bankruptcy, to the north woods of Michigan. There the children and their mother were left alone to establish her father’s claim to the 360 acres he had acquired, while he remained East to settle his affairs. Shaw’s mother, overwhelmed by grief and disbelief at the raw and trying circumstances, collapsed emotionally and was “practically an invalid.” This left the enterprise entirely to the five children. Barely twenty years old, Shaw’s oldest brother, James, was in charge. Anna was recruited to lay floorboards on the earth and frame windows and doors.

When even James left because he needed an operation that took him back to Massachusetts, the young children were left to fend for themselves, through a variety of “nerve-wracking” conditions and winters that “offered few diversions and many hardships.” Anna eventually took advantage of opportunities for schooling that led to her unflinching grasp at independence as a professional woman. In later life, Shaw was a crusader for women’s suffrage, and managed to become both a medical doctor and a minister. This kind of brutal induction into resourcefulness and independence, while not representative, was also not uncommon.

Girls and boys matured early, and Tocqueville, for one, believed that American children did not have or need an adolescence. The very young child, given the right to handle glassware or crockery, is a child invested with the capacity to act responsibly. Dr. Spock would note more than a century later that such confidence acknowledged that a child is eager to do “grown up things,” like feeding herself in the same way as the adults around her. And early work laid the basis for later habits. Anna Shaw noted that work had “always been my favorite form of recreation.”

The English commentator who saw precocious infant explorers poking around their toys was observing a different model of child development, one that was becoming as alien to middle- and upper-class Europeans of the nineteenth century as it is to us today. While European children of the middle classes were being treated as precious objects of solicitude, needing careful protection, American children who later became presidents, doctors, writers, and reformers were exposed to adult work and responsibility. And they were far less supervised. It was not only that class was more fluid in the United States in this period but that the specific expectations about children remained more fluid than in Europe.

Later in the nineteenth century, middle-class Americans, too, would begin to separate children from adult activities and treat them, as we usually do today, as fragile beings who needed special toys and risk-proof furnishings. But during this initial period when American society was being formed and the culture was laying down historical tracks, children were much more integrated into adult activities and given both more responsibility and more freedom. Most Americans in the first half of the nineteenth century viewed their children’s early maturity as natural, an expression of both the helping qualities they required in the young and beliefs about children’s abilities to be useful from an early age. It was a widespread phe- nomenon in many parts of the new country and remained an active part of the culture up to the end of the century, while elsewhere in the Western world, children were sentimentalized.

It was true for girls as well as for boys, observed in the eastern United States as well as the West, common among rural folk especially but in cities as well. Rachel Buttz’s father, Tunis Quick, was raised in the Shenandoah Valley in the early nineteenth century. His father was a well-meaning “generous, kindhearted man,” but his decision to back a neighbor’s loan impoverished the family, and soon after his mother’s death young Tunis was “hired to a neighbor who required him to do almost as much work as a full-grown man.” Just past ten years of age, Tunis quickly became responsible in other ways as well. Tunis objected to the slavery that was a feature of the area in which they lived, so at fifteen he urged his father to move the family to the North.

They stopped first in Ohio “where [he] was variously employed in farming, hauling goods and keeping a ferry on the Scioto River.” Having worked hard and impressed his employer, young Tunis obtained the means to buy a home in Indiana where the family finally settled. Tunis Quick learned early to assist his family as they struggled, and his sense of responsibility also gave him the ability to think independently and to have his views heard and respected. By what we would consider his mid-adolescence, he had not only directed his family’s migration north, but he was buying property for them. Tunis’s desire to leave a section dominated by slavery is also noteworthy, since it was the South, where slave ownership defined the society, that was the major exception to the developing democracy within families.

To some extent, the independence given to children grew from the ideals and values expressed in the Revolution since Americans believed that future generations had to acquire the characteristics that would maintain the principles enunciated in that event. But more than ideology was involved. No simple commitment to an idea can completely explain the behaviors so widely observed and the general willingness to heed children’s independent judgment. Ideology will not necessarily loosen a father’s grip over his sons when he had always expected to be obeyed and to have his commands met, even when he is committed to republican ideals. In the Southern United States, of course, this loosening of paternal power never happened, since slavery reinforced its grip.

And even in other parts of the United States, some observed the loosening of parental reins with concern and attempted to inhibit the young through new institutions of supervision, such as schools, as they recognized how much mischief could be loosed in a world guided by revolutionary principles. Not all Americans took kindly to the idea of children acting on their own. But a widespread independence among the young continued nevertheless. American life in the first half of the nineteenth century was defined by conditions that made such views about children necessary while the restless temperament of Americans made them ready for change and improvement. Together, these conditions provided children with the leeway to become more independent as they became more useful. Utility as well as ideology needs to be taken into account if we are to understand the families that produced a Grant, Drake, Quick, Shaw, or Wright.

The changing circumstances of the early republic resulted from both material conditions and political institutions. Together, these were widely understood as fundamental to the difference between Americans and Europeans. A shrewd, early observer of the difference, the Reverend Enos Hitchcock, sought to sustain the new revolutionary ideology through appropriate childrearing and education. “The systems of education written in Europe, are too local to be transferred to America; they are generally designed for a style of life, different from that, which is necessary for the inhabitants of the United States to adopt: they do not reach our circumstances, and are not suited to the genius of our government.”

To understand the American regime of domestic relations, we need to grasp just how unsettled, raw, and unpredictable the American land and the developing economy were during the important first half of the nineteenth century, since the experiences of American children and their parents were an expression of that reality. This dynamic new economy revised expectations about youth and what it could achieve. So did the laws governing inheritance and generational relations. The changes in American domestic life also transformed power relations between men and women, husbands and wives, and this, too, affected generational relationships in important ways.”

- Paula S. Fass, “Childhood and Parenting in the New Republic Sowing the Seeds of Independence, 1800–1860.” in The End of American Childhood: A History of Parenting from Life on the Frontier to the Managed Child

#american #the end of american childhood #paula s. fass #history

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salamandersofftheclock · 3 years

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Principles You Can Use From Rowling’s Philosophy of Writing

by Ruthanne Reid

If you’re like me, you loved the Harry Potter series. Maybe you watched the movies or even visited the theme park, and you wondered about JK Rowling’s writing process and the strategy she uses to write her best-selling books. If you’re like me, though, you’ve also been deeply hurt by things Rowling herself has said. On Twitter, on her website, in interviews, and more, Rowling has promoted harmful views of trans people, and you might be one of her many readers who find it painful, or even impossible, to return to the Harry Potter books you once loved.I understand. Before I dive into the wisdom we can draw from Rowling’s writing process in order to write our first draft (or others), allow me to share a principle with you. Death of the Author: Or, How to Love the Book, Not the Author In 1967, a French literary critic named Roland Barthes wrote an essay called La mort de l’auteur, or Death of the Author, in which he states that any piece of writing should be separated from the author that wrote it. In other words, he believed in judging the written work completely on its own merits, without involving personal beliefs or actions of the author in question. Sometimes, this is possible to do. Sometimes, it isn’t, and we readers have to apply discernment to what we read and the lens in which we view things.I have two examples for you. HP Lovecraft First, HP Lovecraft, whose incredible work literally created today’s modern horror genre. Do you enjoy any kind of tale with Elder Ones, or chaos gods, or even just good old Cthulhu? (I know I do!) His work was so creative, so new, that you’d be hard-pressed to find any horror story that doesn’t show at least some of his influence.Unfortunately, Lovecraft was also an extremely xenophobic racist. Now, I enjoy a good chaos god, and I’ve made the decision to separate his xenophobia from his writing. That means, of course, that I must view critically anything he wrote that implies white English people are somehow the pinnacle of humanity.It means I purposely do not allow his racism to infect my way of thinking. By doing so, I am practicing la mort de l’auteur. JRR Tolkien Here’s a second example: JRR Tolkien, whose work defined modern fantasy. Do you enjoy anything with elves and dwarves or made-up languages? We owe Tolkien for that. He redefined and polished the fantasy genre so well that everything from movies to MMORPGs still use his templates. Unfortunately, he also described his orcs as “squat, broad, flat-nosed, sallow-skinned, with wide mouths and slant eyes: in fact degraded and repulsive versions of the (to Europeans) least lovely Mongol-types.” Yowza. Now, was Tolkien a racist? Not exactly. In fact, according to the standards of the time, he was absolutely liberal and anti-racist. So then what do we do with this bizarro and racially horrifying description? We see it and choose to discard it. Generations of artists and authors have done exactly that, turning orcs into anything but“least lovely Mongol-types,” and aiding this genre.Again, it’s important to see the problem so you can avoid letting it influence your work. We enjoy the good parts while consciously discarding the bad, rather than being influenced by it. So What About JK Rowling? She’s not dead. In fact, she’s still saying harmful things, even as we speak. Instead of listening to her readers, who (at least initially) approached her in love, trying to help her understand, she doubled down, rejected their experience and their words, and in the process, caused an unbelievable amount of pain. Here’s the thing about la mort de l’auteur: it is entirely up to you whether to apply it to what you read, or to simply discard the whole thing and find less troublesome authors. Both roads are valid. In no way do I condone her attacks on the trans community, or her persistent sharing of misinformation. I choose to apply la mort de l’auteur for the simple reason that I benefited from the good things she’s written, and I wanted to share them with you. However, if you aren’t comfortable doing that, you are absolutely welcome to walk away. In fact, I’d suggest these writing articles instead: Neil Gaiman’s rules of writing, or how to create your own rules of writing. Okay. Awkward stuff done. Ready to dive into the process stuff instead? Let’s go! 9 Rules From JK Rowling’s Writing Process Over the course of her writing career, Rowling shared a lot of solid writing wisdom, and in my opinion, eight writing rules stand out—along with a ninth we can apply from her choices since. Whether or not you’re writing your first book like Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone) or last book in a series (like Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows), I think these rules speak to Ms. Joanne Rowling’s philosophy on writing.They are great writing tips for you to reflect on in your spare moments and then apply to your writing process, for short stories, novels, bestsellers, or even the first time you’ve ever attempted a book. Rule One: Protect your writing time “Be ruthless about protecting writing days, i.e., do not cave in to endless requests to have “essential” and “long overdue” meetings on those days. The funny thing is that, although writing has been my actual job for several years now, I still seem to have to fight for time in which to do it.” This is especially hard for those of us with family. Our loved ones come first, and while that is important, our loved ones also need to understand that we need time to write. Setting reasonable boundaries is a crucial step for a writer—even if they’re as simple as, “Mommy needs fifteen minutes of quiet time, okay?” If you have trouble setting boundaries with loved ones, try setting a reasonable boundary for one week. See how it goes. If it’s too much time or too little, tweak it. Establish a routine that signals to others that it’s your writing time, but also lets them know that outside of your writing space, you’re there for them. Not only will this teach the importance of flexibility and discipline to others, but also that your writing is valuable. It’s your work, and your dream! Needing quiet time to write doesn’t mean that you don’t love your family. Your writing deserves your time, too. Open communication about this can help everyone understand and respect that. Rule Two: Treat your writing like a job “You’ve got to work. It’s about structure. It’s about discipline.” It’s easy to forget that writing is a job. We don’t always feel like doing our job. We certainly don’t always feel inspired. To be writers, we must train ourselves to sit down and write even when we don’t feel like it. Those moments are the ones that really matter, even more than the shining, flying, muse-kissed moments.Writing when we don’t feel like it is what turn amateurs into professionals and rough drafts into polished manuscripts. “The muse works for you. You don’t write at her beck and call—you train her to show up when you’re writing. “ Rule Three: Believe you ARE a writer “I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me.” Yes, writing is possible with another job. Yes, writing is possible with other responsibilities. Are you a writer? (I know your inner critic snarled no, but I also know a tiny candle-flicker of unquenchable hope in you whispered yes with so much longing you could cry.) You ARE a writer. That means you write. A runner runs. A painter paints. A cook cooks. You are a writer. You write. Accept this, fight to believe it, and be amazed at how far that takes you. Rule Four: Write what you know “Write what you know: your own interests, feelings, beliefs, friends, family and even pets will be your raw materials when you start writing.” This doesn’t mean you need to experience aliens in order to write about them. It means that all good stories have universal application. A great example is this Google Doodle. (Trust me. I’m going somewhere with this.) Take two minutes and thirty-six seconds to watch this: Halloween 2017 Google Doodle: Jinx’s Night Out It’s adorable, right? Without a single word, this video told an effective story. You felt for the little ghost, both when it was sad and when it was happy, right? News flash: you’re not a ghost. That was universal application. It doesn’t matter what culture you’re from or what language you speak; all human beings know what it is to be lonely, to feel left out, to be frustrated, determined, and to finally be with friends. That story works because the creators used their interests, feelings, beliefs, friends, family and even pets to tell this story. (I’m fond of the kitty, myself.) I’m greatly oversimplifying, but here’s the gist: you already know how to tell a moving story because you live one. If you’ve ever had emotions, ever responded to anything, then you already know what universal application looks like. Listen to the people around you, and apply empathy. You don’t have to be a ghost to write a good ghost story. Rule Five: Read “I always advise children who ask me for tips on being a writer to read as much as they possibly can. Jane Austen gave a young friend the same advice, so I’m in good company there.” Read. Read. Read some more! The more you read, the bigger your arsenal of words will be. The more you read, the better your grasp of metaphor, poetry, beauty, passion, and empathy will be. The more you read, the greater you will be as a writer (and probably human being). It’s like learning more dance moves or impressively difficult notes on an instrument. The more you learn, the better you’ll be. So read in your genre. Read outside your genre. Get in the habit of finding time to pick up a book instead of your phone (unless it’s to open up another book.) You DO have the time to read. Even if that’s just ten minutes a day. Any time counts. And the more stories you read, the more likely you’ll start to implicitly develop the skills you need to become a great writer. Rule Six: Persevere “Perseverance is absolutely essential, not just to produce all those words, but to survive rejection and criticism.” This is one of those unpleasant truths about publishing: you’re gonna get rejected. A lot. I wish there were a way around this. Harry Potter was turned down again and again because that’s just the way it goes sometimes. And it isn’t only publishers: when you get published, and your work is out there, you’ll get bad reviews, too. Mostly, they’ll just be people who don’t understand what you’re doing. Intellectually, you’ll know that. Your heart, on the other hand, is going to break into a thousand pieces. But here’s the secret: you can’t stop writing because of push-back. You MUST NOT stop writing because of push-back. Keep going. Don’t stop. When you get rejected, pick up your pen and keep going (and use the way you feel to put more universal application into your work). And when you’re feeling really discouraged? Remember that when someone doesn’t like your book, they might also just not be your ideal reader. That person just wasn’t your target audience.If your book isn’t to someone’s taste, that’s all right. It will be to someone else’s.Keep writing your book, because your ideal readers need it. Rule Seven: Bring your whole self to the page “What you write becomes who you are … So make sure you love what you write!” Writing is a little like a Mobius strip, in a way: Your beliefs and experiences and feelings all help craft your writing. However, your writing clarifies, corrects, and often reveals your beliefs, experiences, and feelings. As you write, you’ll discover things about yourself. You’ll clarify things, too, because it’s only as you come to write them that you realize they needed clarification in the first place. Now, understand: this means that if you haven’t given yourself a good look to find your biases (we all have them), you will bring those to the page, too. It’s important to see who you are as you bring your whole self to the page. Writing is a brave, bold venture, and life-altering discovery is part of the journey. Rule Eight: Accept that failure is part of the process “Failure is inevitable—make it a strength. You have to resign yourself to the fact that you waste a lot of trees before you write anything you really like, and that’s just the way it is. It’s like learning an instrument, you’ve got to be prepared for hitting wrong notes occasionally, or quite a lot. I wrote an awful lot before I wrote anything I was really happy with.” Failure is normal. Also, it is okay. You’re going to write a lot of crap. You’re going to push past those things and write more crap. It may take you twelve years. It may take you a million words. If it does, then you’re on the right path—the same one your favorite authors walk. Accept that it will take time, and that sometimes, your pencil won’t be your friend. If you accept it, then when it happens, you won’t throw in the towel and set the house on fire. Instead, you’ll be able to go, “Well, dang; that sucked, didn’t it? Knew it would happen. Time to write some more.” Rule Nine: Respect Your Reader Sadly, this rule doesn’t come from writing advice she’s given, but in a way, it’s the final conclusion of the previous eight. This involves bringing your whole self to the page. This involves empathy and universal application. This involves perseverance, never quitting, and willingness to tackle your writing troubles. If your readers value what you created, they will listen to what you say. Your words have the power to uplift or hurt others. None of us can ever really know where someone else is coming from, and it’s essential that both our stories and our interactions reflect respect. Respect yourself enough to be a better person. Respect your readers enough to hear what they have to say. This sounds scary, I know, but I promise you, it’s worth it.

#how to write #writing advice #writing #tw jk rowling #jkr #jk rowling #tw long post #long post #long text post #top writing advice #rules for writing

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ofhoneyblood · 4 years

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BRYCE ATLAS WINSLOW

pronouns: HE , HIM , HIS

age: THIRTY - EIGHT

species: HUMAN

nationality: IRISH , ITALIAN , AMERICAN

sexuality: PANSEXUAL / DEMIROMANTIC

sign: AQUARIUS SUN , LIBRA MOON , VIRGO RISING

occupation: OWNER & BOUNCER @ RED HOT PUSSY LIQUORS

+ traits: INVITING. FAIR. FUNNY. OPEN-MINDED. TOLERANT.

-- traits: GUARDED. DETACHED. DESPERATE. SELF-DESTRUCTIVE.

faceclaim: MILO VENTIMIGLIA

soundscapes: HERE

aesthetic: HERE

yo yo you yo , it’s lydia ( yes , that’s my real name ) here with my noble beast bryce winslow ! i have had bryce as a muse longer than any other and it’s been literal years since i’ve written him so i’m extremely excited. this is the first time he will be milo though and i’m super hype to get things going ! i have headcanon after headcanon for him , so hit me up if you want to do something bc i am ready to do some shit !! again , i’m lydia ( or nary , nettle , snottie , etc. ) and i love a good name change , twenty five years old , pansexual demigirl ( she / her & / or they / them ) residing in the central timezone.

this is THIRTY-EIGHT year old BRYCE WINSLOW , the OWNER OF & BOUNCER AT RED HOT PUSSY LIQUORS BURLESQUE AND BOOZE who uses HE / HIM pronouns. he grew up in DUBLIN , IRELAND but came to pleasance in JULY 2006 ON HAPPENSTANCE AND TO RUN AWAY FROM HIS PAST and now enjoys spending his time at FOR KEEPS AND RED HOT PUSSY LIQUORS. BRYCE is written by LYDIA.

PERSONALITY

element: air ruling planet: uranus — planet of originality body part: ankles good day: communicative , original , open-minded , fair , logical , inviting , tolerant , funny bad day: guarded , detached , self-destructive , out-of-touch , irrational , desperate , lonely favorite things: dancing , teaching , team sports , anything with a cause or mission , independent films , working out , baths , animals , preserving plant life / flowers , reading least favorite things: injustice , drama queens , feeling isolated , owing money or favors , having to choose just one thing , personal questions , gossip , cigarette smoke secret wish: to experience total freedom how to spot him: a cute smile lighting up a tired face , quirky movements , tired eyes , long legs , big hands , flannel , old beat up truck where you’ll find him: backpacking or hiking , protesting , coaching a team , revolutionizing the industry he works in , the gym , red hot pussy liquors , alone at home , working on a project , taking a walk by northwood lake keywords: friendliness , eccentricity , teamwork , humanitarianism , technology , groups , avant-garde

first thing to know about bryce winslow is that he’s a free-spirit that prizes individuality and plays well on a team. he has been known to do things his own way , moving on a path different from everyone else’s. some call him eccentric , others appreciate his cutting-edge originality and authentic style.

one of the many ways that the irishman is a paradox ? he’s highly individualistic , but also an amazing team player. he might look like the fresh-faced guy next door on the outside , but inside he marches to his own beat. naturally popular , as he’s vibrantly social and loves to be among people , telling jokes and introducing thought-provoking conversation topics.

people truly do make his world go round , and he can become friends with the most random strangers. can be a bit of an alien — a little “ out there ” in his approach to different things. not that he cares about offending anyone ! loves a good casual connection , bryce can disengage as quickly as he connects. in fact , platonic pals sometimes get better treatment than romantic partners.

while he can be a bit unsentimental on a one-on-one level , he can be moved to tears by the plight of animals , the environment or other social justice issues. yes , this big irishman is a bohemian at heart in some ways , but he also gets the job done. as a tenacious aquarius , he can be quite hardworking when he devotes himself to a goal.

a competitive ( and lesser-known ) type a streak can emerge when he really wants something. nothing turns him on like progress , especially in the name of his grander ideals ! playing hard to get REALLY works on him lol

philanthropic and objective , bryce is in a lot of ways innovative and avant-garde. from experimental electronic music to community-oriented living , there’s nothing that this man hasn’t or won’t explore. as someone who loves being a part of a good group or team , bringing people together is also one of his specialties.

intense bryce energy is cutting-edge , “ out there ” and even a little strange at times. a total nerd for all things futuristic , science fiction and wacky inventions. no topic is too cutting-edge with this irishman: extraterrestrials , stem cells , cloning , robots taking over the earth…yup , bryce will go there.

while he likes to influence rebellion and detaching from reality ( c’mon bryce , back to earth ! ) , he likes to help others see possibilities they wouldn’t otherwise. the essence of his true energy is: community-oriented , original , open-minded , fair , logical , humanitarian , connecting , and inviting.

the negative expression of bryce’s energy can be: guarded , detached , destructive , out-of-touch , irrational , and desperate. reluctant to express emotions — the irishman prefers rational reasoning and cool-headed logic to the messy tapestry of the human feelings.

one of his favorite authors is ayn rand , founder of the objectivist movement , and that’s pretty much all you need to know. objectivism has been a major influence on the libertarian movement , which has a real bryce flavor. it’s an organized system that also preserves individual freedom and limits government intervention. it’s very “ fringe ” and mainstream all at once , a fascinating paradox and something that really intrigues him.

playful gusts and a social butterfly whirlwind combines into a gale force of humanitarianism for all. bryce is a visionary , dreaming up quirky utopias and alternative realities that can shake up the status quo. emotional detachment , unpredictable energy and rebellion are major factors in the irishman’s personality. not going to lie , he can be “ type a “ and totally quirky all at the same time ??

a stabilizer — the one who sets up a solid goal or foundation then starts building. bryce can take the enthusiastic idea that someone else sparks and craft it into something real. he picks up the ball when another passes it , running the distance to the goal.

the trustworthy type who likes “ to-do ” lists and fancy titles. if a friend says , “ let’s go on vacation ! ” he’s already calling the travel agency , booking the tickets and hotel , and sending everyone a list of what to pack.

true believer in friendship and teamwork , so bryce tends to be more focused on a group than an individual. freedom is important to him , which is why he likes to keep things light on an interpersonal level. that way , he won’t feel bad about running off to the opposite corner of the world at a moment’s notice.

at times , this nomadic strategy backfires , leaving him lonely and disconnected. in truth , the irishman is uncomfortable with too much intimacy. this free spirit belongs to the world and feels off-balance giving his considerable energy to just one person.

while bryce’s friends get first-class treatment , family and lovers see a different side of him: moody , brooding , anxious and neurotic. he may pick one ( and only one ) person to open up to , getting attached to the point of obsession.

learning to accept and express his emotions would help him avoid the massive freak outs and anger flashes that come from pretending everything’s cool when it isn’t. bryce appreciates a quirky or eccentric twist , enjoying colorful characters and people with counter cultural personalities.

BIOGRAPHY

bryce atlas winslow was born into a very straight lace , play by the rules , catholic family. his father , matteo winslow , was an italian military man and his mother , deirdre winslow , was a cold irish homemaker. matteo was every bit the ‘ man of the family ’ and bryce grew up only answering to his father. deirdre would only every answer a question with ‘ ask yer da ’ or ‘ dija’ ask yer da ? ’

she was a mostly spineless , god fearing woman that was afraid of her own shadow and that’s what made her such a good puppet for matteo. bryce’s father was a stern , angry man that only grew angrier when drunk , no one dared put even a single toe out of line with him around.

( TW: implied child abuse ) with bryce being the first born and only son he was expected to be perfect , from a very young age he felt the pressures of that. it was like walking on eggshells , always afraid of making a mistake or displeasing his father. he did not have the fun , happy-go-lucky innocence a child should expect of their early years ; instead for bryce winslow there was not much more than discipline , hard work , and punishment.

for the most part , bryce succeeded at being the perfect son his father expected him to be — a robot more than an actual living boy. nothing more than a machine , a machine being bred for war.

it wasn’t until the beginning of his secondary school , when puberty and hormones began blossoming , that things became precarious. voice cracks , uneven patches of hair…. oh , and a sudden sexual desire for the same sex.

( TW: suicide ment. ) now , the winslows were catholic - extremely devout catholics - and bryce grew very self-loathing and afraid in this confusing time. he contemplated suicide , all because ‘ homosexuality was wrong ‘ and ‘ you go straight to hell ‘ if you engage in anything associated with it. it didn’t matter how good of a son you were , because ‘ man shall not lie with man. ‘ he kept it hidden for years , he also managed not to act on it until well into the last year of secondary school.

despite bryce’s fears and shame , when he was sixteen he fell in love for the first time. first loves can be explosive , dangerous even and this one was nothing short of just that. the boy kept his forbidden love a secret from everyone , his family and father above all others.

all good things must come to an end though or so they say , for the boys it came far sooner than later. matteo , bryce’s father , happened upon a note from the boy bryce was seeing , cian , and in said note was all sorts of information including a meeting spot. as you can imagine , matteo flew from the house in a drunken rage in search of his “ sinner “ of a son only to catch him red-handed.

( TW: assault , child abuse ) bryce managed to save cian from his father’s wrath , taking the brunt of the attack. cian watched as bryce was beaten , begging and screaming for the man to stop , that he was killing him. the drunken bigot was turning on the younger boy when bryce told him to leave and never come back , so that is what he did.

( TW: implied abuse ) to this day , he has never laid eyes on his young lover and that was probably for the best. after his father had tired himself out and satisfied his rage , he left his son there in the dirt and the beaten boy didn’t bother moving.

( TW: suicidal thoughts , conversion therapy ment. ) will to live depleted , too tired to go on , pain too much to endure — he just slept there until the next morning. he was awoken with a kick of dirt in the face , his father telling him that he was being sent to a ‘’ special ’’ facility where they would get rid of his ‘’ ailment. ’’

( TW: conversion therapy / facility ) time melded in the facility , but he estimated nearly a year of his life was wasted away in there. resistant and defiant for most of his time there , it wasn’t until his father visited him , the one and only time . that things changed.

( TW: suicide ment. , homophobia ) his father brought news that his mother had killed herself but this was a vicious lie , a last ditch effort to get bryce to change his ways and boy , did it work ! hardly a month later , the young man was discharged from the facility only to find his mother was indeed very much alive.

matteo up and moved his entire family to england after bryce got out of the facility. his father gave him nonsense about wanting to get away from the bad memories , starting over new , and ‘ lead not into temptation ‘ by sending him back to school with ‘ sinners ’ and ‘ sodomites. ‘

so , bryce finished out the remainder of his schooling in england and went straight into the forces as per his father’s wishes. sadly for him , he would never become what he so longed to be. he had just finished boot camp and life had just started to seem somewhat normal - if you can call anything the winslow’s had normal - when he lost it all.

( TW: eye injury ) the young man was honorably discharged after an accident that left him legally blind in one eye , when he returned home after his short stent in the defense forces there was no longer a place in the family for him. his father quite literally disowned him all for something he had no control over , a mere accident , but there was nothing more disappointing to matteo than a son that was ‘ kicked out ‘ of the forces.

( TW: gang ment. , human trafficking ) fast forward a year , bryce had found himself in a gang. this part of his background is the most unresolved seeing as it’s not part of his original backstory. long story short , he was involved with the gang until he was twenty three but it all became too much for him after his boss tried to involve him in human trafficking.

( TW: gang ment. , suicide , death ) when you join a gang you don’t usually do it thinking someday you might one day retire or quit said gang , but then as you get older you realize you’re not as tough as you thought. bryce was twenty-three when his mother finally really did ‘ commit suicide ‘ , the first time his father spoke to him since he returned home from the forces was only to blame him for her death.

( TW: death ment. , implied murder ) honestly , it was just the straw that broke the camels back. bryce wasn’t allowed at the funeral or anywhere near it , he’s almost certain his mother’s death wasn’t by her own hand or an accident but he’ll never truly know. after he was certain she was in the ground , bryce fled to america in the hopes of outrunning the gang and getting lost in the melting pot.

once in the land of opportunity , he got his hands on the cheapest ride he could find first and just started driving. it was well after his twenty-fourth birthday , right smack in the middle of a hot ass summer in ‘06 , that he found himself in pleasance of all places. he never had any intention at all to grow roots there , it simply happened.

other than that , the man busies himself with drying and preserving flowers , taking baths , working out , and playing with his dog. he parades around like this big , tough hard ass when in reality he’s quite the domestic goofball type.

ETC.

has a dog , it’s a beagle named shiloh literally

a big hobby of his is preserving flowers in his spare time , he keeps a small book of pressed flowers and plant life on him a lot of the time in the chance he comes across something he wants to preserve

can play guitar and doesn’t have a bad singing voice either

legally blind in one eye , but doesn’t wear his glasses often

has a younger sister that he does keep in contact with , but not very well ( WC ? )

a guilty pleasure of his is taking baths ; he enjoys adding bath salts , flowers , and other so-called ‘ feminine ‘ products like bath bombs , etc. to them and honestly takes one nearly every day

he was born and raised mostly in dublin , ireland and has a thick accent that only gets thicker when intoxicated or angry. he does use a lot of uncommon terminology to american’s ( yes , i own the feckin’ book of everything irish. . . it’s that serious ) but i’ll lyk in the tags what it means unless i forget

@phqextras

#DOSSIER.#phqintro #phqextras #am i doing this right ?#idk

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eddieonthemove · 3 years

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Early months

Finding that pink line on the pregnancy test was a complete surprise for me. It was unplanned, unexpected and to be honest, couldn’t have been more badly timed. Looking back now, the pregnancy itself didn’t get any easier. When people say that pregnant women have this kind of bloom around them, for me it was more of a gloom. I was sick, tired, couldn’t sleep or eat properly, and on top of that serious problems in the relationship and a very stressful job. Not ideal!

When I was 23 weeks pregnant I started showing a tiny bit, although I still looked like I had a bit more for lunch than normal rather than being pregnant. For the coming weekend my partner Ben and I were planning to go to Snowdonia. That didn’t go as planned. Instead, I woke up on Thursday that week and was bleeding a bit. I googled the symptoms and then walked to work as usual, because Google said it can happen. My colleagues persuaded me to call my midwife and then called me a taxi to go to the hospital. I didn’t take my pregnancy notes, I literally thought I would be back at work in a few hours. Instead, after the examination, a doctor sat me down and told me “don’t panic but you’re in labour”. Well, you can imagine I started panicking. At only 23+5 days pregnant.

The following few hours I went from crying, being petrified, calling my parents, wanting to leave the hospital because the doctors were obviously wrong, to being scared that Ben wouldn’t even show up. If I ever thought before that I wasn’t ready, I definitely wasn’t ready for this. I was transferred onto a delivery suite immediately and got a midwife assigned to me. Within a few hours I was given lots of painkillers and other medication to try to stop the labour, as well as steroids for the little one. Ben arrived with a few friends and I basically cried through it.

Many doctors talked to us after that, explained what little chances there were, what were the possible outcomes, and told me I needed to keep the baby (until that point the sex wasn’t confirmed) inside until at least 24 weeks. The people, nurses, doctors, midwifes, and everybody involved were absolutely amazing. Contractions started slowly but surely and by Saturday morning I was praying for whatever to happen to stop this. At that point, we knew it was going to happen that day and I had never felt less ready. I felt like I needed years to prepare for whatever was coming. I needed my parents, who were thousands of miles away. I wanted as much medication to kill the pain as possible, however I couldn’t get any because it was too risky. Another hard thing was deciding about the unborn baby’s life, just in case. Deciding whether we wanted for the doctors to do everything possible to keep the baby alive or to let nature do what was meant to be. We agreed to give it a try but not to push the little one if he didn’t want to stay with us. I had never felt so lonely in my life. We had been waiting until late evening for my water to break, but once it did the rest happened very quickly.

Eddie was born on Saturday, 12th of May 2018 at 24 weeks of gestation, weighing only 640g (1.4 lbs), breach, but despite all that decided to fight his first big fight for life. Doctors asked us if we wanted to see him, I’m not sure if Ben did, but I was so exhausted that the only thing I wanted was to sleep. Eddie went straight into an incubator and got transferred to the neonatal unit. I got morphine and thought I would rest, but hallucinations and sickness followed. In the early morning hours we were woken up to be transferred to a normal room and after a couple more hours of sleep a nurse came to ask if I wanted to start expressing milk. Honestly? That was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t even want to see my baby. The first journey to the neonatal unit was horrifying, all I wanted was to go home and forget about everything that had happened. Eddie was at the far end, where the sickest babies were, and he was also the smallest one at the unit. When we first saw him, he looked like a little alien without any body fat, with see-through skin, red in colour. I felt awful for not feeling the supposedly instant maternal love.

NICU became the place where I spent most of my time and yet the place I hated most. The dim blue lights, the beeping machines, the hushed tones of doctors and nurses, medical language I didn’t understand despite being fluent in English, everything sterile… On top of the early arrival, Eddie had a large haemorrhage on his brain on both sides and was fully incubated. It was a miracle he survived. That day was the beginning of his long journey. I rushed to get home to sleep in my bed and asked to be discharged the same day. The whole thing felt surreal. For the first few days Eddie was doing amazingly well, but then he got sick very quickly. We were scared to be called in every minute of every day. I felt constantly on edge and unable to relax. I would lie in bed clutching my phone, petrified whenever it rang in case it was bad news. Multiple complications, multiple “you should say your goodbyes now”. Every day was a nightmare with so much stress and fear. Expressing milk every three hours became a very hated chore, especially since Eddie couldn’t receive any milk because of so many complications.

Two days passed and it felt like a week, every day dragged so much. A couple of weeks after Eddie was born we were called at night and spent a day and a half on the unit nonstop as everything was pretty bad; even Ben burst into tears once. Eddie proved the doctors wrong and despite all odds he kept fighting and got better again. I had my first skin to skin cuddle with Eddie with about 6 nurses around just to make sure Eddie was ok. I felt like I couldn’t even move or touch my baby. However, I slowly became familiar with the nurses. Their guidance was great and we could have been involved as much or as little as we wanted, or that is at least what they said. Over the time Ben slowly stopped paying Eddie frequent visits, everything seemed to be much more difficult and the mental health of both of us was slowly hitting bottom. I felt so much pressure; I am the mother, I was the one who always had to come and visit. A few times we planned a trip somewhere and some nurses encouraged me to have a bit of a normal life, but on return to the hospital some nurses couldn’t not mention that I hadn’t visited Eddie for a day. I felt like they judged me and wondered how I could possibly dare not to show up for a few hours.

Most days I felt a strong urge to either curl up in a ball or run away and not have to face life as it was. I felt like jumping out of the window. I don’t think I would have done it, but I felt lost, lonely and distraught. I went through days when I hated even the thought of going to the hospital and days when I couldn’t be anywhere else because it was the only place where I felt safe. I needed Ben but he wasn’t able to be there for me. None of my friends understood (and I don’t blame them) but I felt like I was abandoned. I lived for my job and felt like it was taken from me. Everything was falling apart. Anybody who tried to be there for me was just not good enough. I felt helpless and hopeless. I kept expressing milk and in the first weeks I did so well that even nurses told me I had to store it at home as they had no space left. That quickly changed, because mental health clearly affects everything. SCIPS, a charity that is based in the hospital offered me private counselling, probably because I cried most of the time, not only when Eddie was not well, but even when he was getting better. I started attending weekly sessions and it took a good 6 months for me to realise that this was not my fault. The idea that every woman has a pregnancy that is 9 months long is just an ideal situation, but what happened to us can happen to anybody.

“Life can throw us many curve balls, with children undoubtedly being one of them. Factor into that medical problems, our very young age as parents, my lack of desire to ever be a parent and an unsure future and you have the mother of all curve balls. To say that I dragged my heels at the thought of being a father would be an understatement. It took me a long time to come to terms with it and to accept that, like it or not, I no longer have the choice; I have a son. The whole journey from finding out that Eli was pregnant to Eddie finally being discharged from hospital has been the most harrowing and emotional yet maturing and life-changing experience that I could ever have imagined going through. Despite initial reluctance towards fatherhood, I was amazed at Eddie’s spirit and will to keep fighting. Despite numerous complications and a few near-death scares, he has found a way to pull through, in no small part thanks to all the staff at the NICU and his own stubborn willpower. Eli was and continues to be incredibly brave and has been so strong for both Eddie and me throughout all of this and is the most wonderful mother that Eddie could ever hope for. Even now with a long way to go before he starts to catch up with the development of children his age, he still manages to astonish us with his progress, and always with a smile on his face. The experience of an un-planned, extremely premature birth has without a doubt taken its toll on our mental health and our relationship, and yet the future still seems brighter than ever with such a lovely, happy boy to light the way. Although Eli and I may have not made it as a couple, I feel that we are doing all that we can to succeed at being the best parents that we can to Eddie and now share a special relationship as a family that has brought us all even closer than before. Seeing his progress after a mere two-hour session at the Bobath Centre was incredible, leading us to believe wholeheartedly that they can aid him in his growth and allow him to live a normal life, regardless of his premature birth. Above all else, I am immeasurably proud and grateful that Eddie is as stubborn as his parents with his never-give-up attitude towards life. He has seized every opportunity so far and I hope that he continues to do so for the rest of his life. He may have been unexpected, but the best gifts are always a surprise.”

Ben, Eddie’s Dad

Eddie was slowly getting better and once he was off any help with breathing, it was just a waiting game until he was ready to go home. I gave up on breastfeeding as the pressure of it and the slow decrease of my milk supply was bringing me down even more. Another hard thing on the unit was seeing all the babies come and go. Nurses told me to talk to other parents many times, and I did, I made a few friends, but most of the time I was jealous of their babies’ progress or the support they had around them… Most of the people I met through NICU always come back and look for a reason to drop in and say hi, but the journey through NICU is the one thing I would very much like to forget about. However, I am and will always be so grateful for all doctors and nurses that helped Eddie to fight for his life.

Eddie got discharged on the 12th of September, exactly 4 months after he was born. Ben and I roomed in for the last night, I don’t think we even exchanged one single word that night, now I know that Ben had never been that scared in his life, and I was too. Unfortunately for me, I was the one who had to be ok and strong. It was just expected of me. We were actually lucky, as Eddie didn’t need any oxygen help at home or a feeding tube, and yet it didn’t feel great.

The first few months at home were definitely not a piece of cake, but I guess it never is for any new parents. I can’t say we didn’t go through anything abnormal (apart from using a lot of syringes and medicine every day), just a lot of crying and the usual things that come with a ‘newborn’ baby. I had to take Eddie back to the hospital three times, twice for a bad episode of bronchiolitis (when once his lung partially collapsed) and once for a hernia operation. Apart from that, our Eddie has grown to be a very happy little boy and I’ve grown to love him more than anything in the world. So did Ben, despite all that’s happened. Our relationship didn’t survive, we failed as a couple, but not as parents, Eddie gave us the strength to realise that even when things aren’t going as planned, we can survive.

Eddie’s now 15 months old. He would have been 1 year old on the 1st of September 2019 if he was born on his due date and weighs an amazing 10 kg! He doesn’t roll over much (even though he can do it), he can’t sit up by himself, he doesn’t crawl and is behind with most of the normal milestones. I stopped taking Eddie to baby groups because I couldn’t cope with other children developing normally and felt like I wanted to give Eddie as much as I could to be able to give him a normal life. After contacting Bliss, an international charity for sick and premature babies and Bobath Centre for children with cerebral palsy, Eddie has been admitted onto the Early Intervention Scheme in Bobath Centre Wales and had his first assessment with a senior physiotherapist in August. We will have more sessions to go to and an intensive block every 4 months. It will be a lot of hard work and exercise and we are praying that Eddie will be able to have a normal life one day.

I wouldn’t wish for anybody to have an extremely premature child but I am happy to be the person I’ve become and that’s pretty much shaped by what I’ve been through over the last two years, even though I am still very far away from being ok with everything that’s happened. I have severe panic attacks and strong anxiety, I’ve become terrified of sharing personal things with people around me and I know this experience will affect me for a long time. Writing this story, however, and going through everything again seems to be the right step now, a step forward. All of my family, from my one thousands of miles away to my one here including Ben and Ben’s family and my close friends, we all love Eddie very much and I wouldn’t change that for anything. He is our little miracle!

Eli, Eddie’s mum

(originally posted on 15th August 2019)

”We did not know that our son, Ben, and Eli were expecting a baby until less than a month before Eddie was born, so everything seemed to happen incredibly quickly thereafter. We were very worried when Eli went into labour so early and whilst delighted at the news that Eddie had come into the world, we were also very anxious about not only our first and only grandson being born so prematurely (and all the health issues and problems arising from that) but also the pain and worry that our son and Eli would be going through, given the circumstances of Eddie’s very early birth. We tried to give as much support as we could, in whichever way we could, but living a 5 hour return journey away meant it was difficult to visit and we didn’t want to get in the way, so texts were the main means of information exchange. Ben and Eli kept us as well informed as they could, and news that the hospital had told them to go and say their final goodbyes on several occasions was truly heart-breaking, but Eddie clearly had different ideas and decided he wasn’t ready to leave. We first visited Eddie in the hospital incubator when he was 6 weeks old; he was so tiny and so beautiful, we fell in love with him immediately. We were overwhelmed at the wonderful support and care given by NICU and marvelled at Eddie’s fighting spirit. When Eddie came out of hospital, we visited again and the first time we babysat for him overnight, was really truly scary; there were so many things to remember: when to give his meds, when to feed, what to do if he choked, and so forth, but Eli and Ben’s calm parenting (plus the fact they were just a couple of streets away!) put us at ease and we had no problems at all; we thoroughly enjoyed the whole experience as any grandparents would. When we babysat again a few months later for 3 whole days all by ourselves, we loved every minute of it and just wished we lived closer so that we could help more readily.We know our son was affected very deeply by Eddie’s birth and struggled at first to cope as a father, and although this whole experience has taken a toll on Ben and Eli’s relationship with each other, we still very much see them all as part of our wider family. We have never ceased to be amazed at how wonderful they both are as parents, and at the strength and fortitude of Eddie – he is such a fighter. We are so happy and proud to be his grandparents, and were delighted that Bobath accepted Eddie onto their Early Intervention Scheme so that he can have extra help with his developmental issues; we’re sure this extra help will make all the difference in the world to him in the future.” Anne and Simon, Proud Grandparents

#CerebralPalsy #PrematureBaby

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naysaltysalmon · 4 years

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Shoutout to @tiburme for tagging me~!

Rules: Name 10 favorite characters from 10 different things and then tag 10 people.

Oh, massive spoilers below btw.

1. Gon Freecss from Hunter x Hunter: My favorite shounen protagonist by far. At first you think he’s your typical happy-go-lucky bouncy boye :D who definitely doesn’t have abandonment issues or self-destructive tendencies that literally actually almost kill him later on, and then, uwu... The amount of complexity that Gon has as a protagonist who hardly ever has stand-alone development is nothing short of astounding. How during the Chimera Ant Art his characterization totally dips off to the side to become an unknowable entity even to the audience, while still retaining amazing character development regardless -- not to mention how brilliantly daring his decision to threaten Komugi is that nearly every other author with such a happy-go-lucky protagonist would shy away from in cowardice -- is absolutely surreal to me. The more I think and write about Gon, the more I fall in love with him. If I ever meet his father, and by that I mean his real father, the creator, Togashi, I have nothing else to say but,,, well done, sir.

2. Tanjirou Kamado from Demon Slayer: I’m really hoping the Demon Slayer movie comes out soon because I absolutely love this boy and how charming he is. Unlike most protagonists, not just of shounen anime but of seemingly macho story lines that involve power-ups and training in general, Tanjirou never lets go of his kind heart. (Welp, except maybe in some cases when he’s facing the Upper Moons later on -- I haven’t caught up yet -- but WE’RE GONNA IGNORE THAT for now.) From the beginning, Tanjirou’s kindness isn’t an obstacle holding back his power, though other characters pose it that way, but rather he cultivates his empathy to grant peace to the demons he faces. He smiles in the face of anyone who treats him poorly because of his cluelessness, and that’s just so heartwarming to see, and dare I say subversive to the hardened, calculating, and cocky male protagonists we so often get. Good job, Gotouge.

3. Joseph Joestar from JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Giorno Giovanna was a close second, but I gotta go with Joseph. He’s the one who made me fall in love with the series, and with the later parts too. Unlike Jonathan Joestar, who was chivalrous and manly, Joseph was a riot: colorful, arrogant, funny, but also extremely clever. I absolutely loved his, “Next you’ll say...!” because at first I expected it to just be him being an overconfident asshole and eventually he’d be proven wrong at the ~Dai Pinchi Moment~ (please excuse my weeb speech, I legit didn’t know what else to call it), but then he hit the mark every time and eventually I was just waiting for when he’d pull that out and it was so hype. Also I surely can’t forget his transformation as an old dude in Part 3 -- him screaming “OOHHHH MY GAAAWDDDA!” and “HOLY SHIIIT!” murdered me every time. And of course, last but not least, the raw fucking emotion when Caeser died -- the dude actually gave a shit and wasn’t made entirely of wit and absurdity, but heart too. Joseph set the tone for what JJBA was as a whole for me (fuck off with that “but Part 3/Part 4 is the best Part” bullshit, Part 2 will always be top tier for me because of Joseph Joestar’s brilliant, bright, and beautiful absurdity -- but Part 5 was really good too). Araki really is a genius.

4. Link from The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess: My love for this series is a bit older than the series I’ve already mentioned, and TLoZ: TP was actually probably the first time I got seriously obsessed with a fandom. I love all the Links in their own ways, but Twilight Princess really drove home the “lone wolf chosen by the gods, fighting against the world” narrative for me. It made me feel important and strong at a time when no one cared about me. Seeing Link struggle silently through his quest with villagers who meant well but did nothing for him, and Midna who started out as a reluctant acquaintance and eventually became so much more, meant so much to me at the time I played the game. I will always love Twilight Princess the most because of what it did for me at one of the darkest times in my life, and because I felt completely and utterly immersed in every part of the story and gameplay through Link’s character, who was, and in many ways, still is, so relatable to me: Silent courage really is what I use to get through every day.

5. Greedling from Fullmetal Alchemist (Brotherhood): For once I’m not naming the protagonist of a series! Lissen, I still smile whenever I see the slightest reference to Edward Elric, but now he’s more of my childhood love. He’s just a part of my personality already? LOL. Anyway, FMA(B) has so many good characters that choosing just one doesn’t feel right (I mean, same with HxH tho). I say Greedling because that encompasses both Ling and Greed though, two of my favorite characters from the series! Ling’s apparent childishness in constantly running away from fights, making other people pay for his food, and failing to grasp the seriousness of the situation (until Lan Fan’s arm gets cut off lol oops) is so adorable and entertaining. He’s the best kind of idiot asshole, and I especially love how he teases Ed. After him and Greed fuse, Ling’s stout heart becomes even more apparent, as he constantly eggs Greed on to remember his past life, his friends, and become someone outside of Father/the Dwarf in the Flask. Conversely, Greed’s nonchalance and (of course) avarice are nothing short of entertaining and heartbreaking. Greed’s realization at the end, when he finally admitted to himself that what he wanted all along were “friends like these,” completely crushed me the first few times I watched FMAB. And when he’s screaming in the tunnels under Central after having killed Bido, remembering his friends, and he doesn’t understand why, and later attacks Wrath/King Bradley... that shit was so entertaining and cathartic to watch. None of his development feels like forced redemption, nor like it was too little development, since it mostly happens in the background and away from the “validating eyes” of the protagonists other than Ling. And at the end, when Ling and Greed work together to take down Bradley and all the soldiers invading Central HQ... it’s so beautiful. Many have said this before but I’ll say it again: Hiromu Arakawa wrote the perfect series.

6. Ciel Phantomhive from Black Butler: Another protagonist! And another older obsession of mine. Ciel remains in my mind to this day mainly for his heartlessness in relation to his age, and the fluidity with which Toboso tells his story. Normally when authors write younger characters into their serious stories, they make “child adults” of sorts, but Ciel feels totally realistic to the extent that he is both childish and adult to me. Obviously, Ciel is responsible and (normally) level-headed due to being the head of the Phantomhive household, but also from trauma. Yet, his cruelty at times is what sticks in my mind the most: You really feel that he’s someone who feels he’s been abandoned by the entire world, given his experiences, and that makes him disregard or use others sometimes in order to reach his own ends. Normally, authors would be too cowardly to let their protagonists, let alone child protagonists, go to such lengths to avenge their family, or carry out their duty as the dog of the military (looking at you, Arakawa -- she’s still a goddess tho). But Ciel is unforgiving. He lies to Snake and tells him his troupe is still alive. He murders the entire troupe because he’s triggered -- a childish decision, but driven with adult-like power due to trauma. It’s devastatingly riveting, and I cannot forget his unrelenting, contained rage to this day.

7. Ahsoka Tano from Star Wars: The Clone Wars: This one may come as a shock to most of you, because I hardly ever post Star Wars let alone Ahsoka content on here -- but it’s true. Other than the blatant, half-assedly inserted heteroromantic partner they gave Ahsoka in, like, idk season 3??, Ahsoka is a fucking goddess. From her origin as a wee baby in the earlier seasons who didn’t really know what she was doing and was a bit of a cocky brat, to how she matures and becomes wise, resourceful, and fierce in the later seasons, I just love Ahsoka’s design and character to this day. The episodes that stick in my mind aside from the obvious are when she’s possessed by the Dark Side of the Force on that Force balance planet and her arrogance becomes so exaggerated that she threatens and attacks Anakin, her teacher. It was so fucking cathartic. Normally female characters, let alone young protagonist female characters, are never allowed to show the ugly sides of themselves in fiction, since women are always portrayed as perfect beautiful majestic angels or some bullshit like that. (Or they’re cocky/sexy/slutty villain women. ‘Kay then.) Seeing Ahsoka devolve into her basal desires and come out of it like hardly anything happened and she’s still a perfectly valid character was so amazing to see on a meta level; it wasn’t about her learning a lesson or anything, it was a thing that happened like any other character and then they moved the fuck on. I also distinctly remember the episode where she was trapped on that island/planet and she had to take out the aliens that were after her all by herself. That was so fucking empowering to watch and god fucking dammit I need to rewatch this series now. And of course, let us not forget the fact that the entire time, we were all expecting Ahsoka to just be another domino in Anakin’s downfall -- and she was, but not through the refrigerator -- but through walking away from it all. That was so powerful and moving -- and heartbreaking. By the end of TCW, her character carried weight and agency in the narrative, and god, I only wish whoever wrote her could write more female characters in the future.

8. Tigress from Kung Fu Panda: Maybe another surprise, but I think she deserves this spot. Tigress is a female character who starts out as kind of an antagonist, given how she outright tells Po to leave the kung fu temple within the first day of him arriving. She’s even jealous of the fact that he’s chosen as the Dragon Warrior rather than her -- but that’s due to the backwash of years of trying to live up to the memory of Tai Lung in order to please Shifu (which means “master” in Chinese but ok I’ll shut up now), her master and mentor over the years. She never says this out loud in the movie, which is what makes her character more believable. Others even joke about how stoic she is (and not in bad taste). Her character development is definitely present for those who are looking -- but I put her on this list because I’m so happy the movie doesn’t make it some huge dramatic emotional thing, because so often in media women are depicted as being overly-emotional and here Tigress is just a hurt child trying to make her mentor happy. But, she gets over it, her and Po become allies, even friends to each other -- she and Po talk like equals in the second and third movies, and she even tells him to back out of the fight with Lord Shen and he listens (I mean he doesn’t stay put but he doesn’t undermine her opinion either lol, like most jokesy protagonists of Western media would -- looking at you, Marvel). I like Tigress because she’s an antagonist without being a bitch, she’s powerful without being overpowered, and she’s not sexualized despite being a well-trained, at times jealous, and even emotionally awkward kung fu master. And I almost forgot to mention the best part: There is never an indication of romance between her and Po, or any other character, for that matter. She’s perfectly capable, complex, and lovely on her own terms. And that’s that on THAT.

9. Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit: I wanted to include at least one character protagonist from a live-action movie/book, lol. I feel like Bilbo’s pretty self-explanatory. He doesn’t wanna go on an adventure because he likes his doilies and warm sheets, but then Gandalf seduces him with the call to the outside world and possible death (LOL), and he fucking goes for it, grumbling the entire time. Isn’t that what any of us would do if given such a proposition? I like to think so. Bilbo obviously has his own gradual, evil transformation with the One Ring, becomes murderous and uses it to disappear, and grows a strong bromance with the King Under the Mountain (which happens in both the movie and the book), but I think what I like about him is that he really feels... down-to-earth? Like even though the adventure changes him, it never feels like he’s been stretched in a way that makes his core character traits of grumbling and bluntness disappear. He gets better at the whole adventuring thing, for sure, but he remains Bilbo, at least, to me, throughout the journey. It was heartwrenching watching him try to save Thorin in The Battle of Five Armies, honestly, but Bilbo’s the kind of character that I feel like has his own story and mythology aside from The Hobbit, and maybe that’s just the result of J.R.R. Tolkien writing the lore for every aspect of his universe, but My Point Still Stands. He feels like his own man apart from the series he’s in, yet he’s still so much fun in his series.

10. Barley Lightfoot from Onward: And last, this one is because I saw Onward yesterday and was pleasantly surprised by the characterization in it -- and anyone who thinks differently can kiss my *ss. :) I was not expecting the movie to take the twist of fleshing out the “annoying” (more like adorable) overconfident nerdy big brother. Normally those characters are swiped to the side because God Forbid The Comic Relief Have Any Sadness In Them. I was expecting the movie to focus on Ian’s journey to meet his fatha and that the movie would pull something stupid at the end like “oh actually there’s another phoenix gem underneath the school” or “actually since only his legs appeared then you still have 24 hours with him” or some shit like that, but I guess this isn’t an anime so those absurdist explanations wouldn’t hold water anyway. But still, for a kid’s movie, I was NOT expecting this movie to go so hard with the characterization. For once, the main character doesn’t get what he wants at the end, and instead realizes it’s his big brother, Barley, who’s been looking out for him his entire life. Meeting his dad would betray that reality. What happens instead is that the lovable big brother never actually said goodbye to their dad before he died, because when their dad got sick, said brother ran away from the hospital room in fear of all the life-sustaining equipment. (Is this some meta thing about Chris Pratt and Guardians of the Galaxy? Off topic and call me stupid, but I didn’t realize Chris Pratt plays him until I saw everyone freaking out about it afterward on Tumblr laksjdflak.) So instead, the lovable big brother talks to the dad at the end, and unconfident younger brother grows confidence and thanks big bro for being with him his entire life. It was so touching, dude. I cry. But the moment that sticks in my mind the most was when Ian was crossing the invisible bridge... Ian needed to have confidence in himself to be able to cross over a chasm in their path, and Barley knew that if Ian didn’t believe in himself, he would fall and die. They tie a rope around Ian for good measure, and Barley encourages him the entire way, but halfway over, the rope comes loose and slips off. Barley sees this and starts panicking, but of course continues to encourage Ian so that Ian will get to the other side. What got to me wasn’t the fact that he faked it for Ian, but that there are actual tears running down his face as he’s encouraging Ian to get to the other side, because he knows otherwise Ian wouldn’t have the confidence and would fall to his death. Like dude, that raw, complex emotion in a kid’s movie?! DUDE?! I was fucking surprised. The clear anxiety and grief in Barley’s face as Ian’s totally clueless and even dancing around in the air was just too much, omfg. Of course, then it’s played off for laughs, but... I guess that makes sense for the annoying overconfident nerdy big bro character. :’)

Okay these are way longer than I anticipated and I’m sorry, but also I’m really not. Hope you enjoyed reading my thoughts on my favs!

Seems I don’t talk to that many people on here anymore: @stupidbluejay @mirycactusito @chronicstarlight

#Nay talks #a lot #i'm sorry but not sorry #TL;DR: Deku isn't on here because Tanjirou is a better boy sorry #Fullmetal Alchemist #Hunter x Hunter #The Legend of Zelda #The Hobbit #Onward #Kung Fu Panda #Star Wars: The Clone Wars #Black Butler #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Demon Slayer

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greetjk · 4 years

Text

exhale you in pain (like smoke in the rain)

read below or click to follow ao3 link! (formatting will be better on ao3)

exhale you in pain (like smoke in the rain) by grayspider

If Queens and every other borough in New York weren’t already littered with images of the late Tony Stark, the campus of MIT definitely was. After the events in Europe, Peter was sure he was over the anxiety and terror of living in Tony’s shadow, but now it feels it's suffocating him more than ever.

Words: 7k+

Chapter: 1/10

tw: should be nothing too extreme, angst, brief references to depressing thoughts and major character death from endgame

If Queens and every other borough in New York weren’t already littered with images of the late Tony Stark, the campus of MIT definitely was. After all, it would be a shame to let any student or alumnus forget that they produced the genius of the one and only Iron Man. His face is plastered on every banner, his name on several benches and statues across campus. After the events in Europe, Peter was sure he was over the anxiety and terror of living in Tony’s shadow, but now it feels it's suffocating him more than ever. It was overwhelming enough when Peter had gone for orientation last month, but now, standing on center campus where a minimalistic statue of Iron Man towered over him, Peter feels smaller than ever. His suitcase drags heavy behind him, and a fleeting moment of dread almost has him sprinting back to the parking lot where May had said her goodbyes to him moments before.

It’s ironic how Peter has faced men with alien weapons and fought Thanos on a far-away planet, yet all he wants to do now as he faces the vast MIT campus is run. He can’t run. He knows that Tony wanted him to attend MIT, just as he did. And he wanted to-- even without Tony’s prompting-- he really did. Now it felt like a cruel joke. As if he couldn’t breathe in Tony’s shadow before, now practically every building he passed on campus had his name plastered on the front in gold plating. He wonders what Mr. Stark would think of the grandeur.

“You know I’ve got pull at MIT,” Mr. Stark said as he fiddled with the bright blue holograms hovering above his worktable. Peter sat a few feet away at his own little workbench, his web-shooters disassembled in front of him. He held back a smirk at his mentor’s words.

“I don’t want to get in with your money, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled without lifting his head. It stressed him out when Tony brought up college, especially because it was still so far away (relatively) and he really had put no thought into it until Mr. Stark came into his life. He figured with Aunt May’s tight financial situation, it would be difficult for him to go anywhere prestigious without a pretty massive scholarship. Sure, Peter was smart, but he wasn’t sure if he was smart enough to get a full ride to a place like MIT. Regardless, he didn’t want Mr. Stark’s charity.

Tony pushed himself away from the table, the projection flickering away. He crawled his rolling chair towards where Peter sat, prying his gaze onto what he was working on. “It’s not money, per se,” he said. “Think of it as an investment. A down-payment to MIT. A shining letter of recommendation.”

“Still sounds like charity to me, Mr. Stark.” Peter didn’t mean to sound bitter, but it slipped through. He dropped the screwdriver in his hands in frustration as he turned to look at Tony. “You’ve already done a lot for me. The suit. This internship. I can’t ask for anything else.”

“You’re not asking, kid,” Mr. Stark retorts. “I’m insisting. With a brain like yours, you’d fit right in. Sure, the environment is a little elitist, but what’s the point of going to a fancy college if you can’t rub it in someone’s face?”

Peter gnawed at his bottom lip. The way he discusses college-- let alone MIT-- so freely and trivially makes Peter squirm. As if it wasn’t something that he had to stress over and consider most of his high school career. After all, the genius had attended at age 15, way younger than Peter. When Peter was 15, Tony Stark was telling him how inadequate he was to do the one thing he believed he was good at -- Spider-Man-- and he took his suit away. How was Peter supposed to live up to Tony’s expectations of surpassing him as an MIT student when he’s already light-years behind in the race? It was unfair.

“It’s not that, Mr. Stark,” Peter insisted, hanging his head low. He couldn’t find the strength to look at his mentor in the eye at that moment. “I just… if I’m going to get into MIT, I want it to be because of me. If I couldn’t get it done before then I shouldn’t now.”

Tony is quiet for a moment. Peter can’t see his face, but he is sure that he’s messed up. That he’s betrayed Tony Stark’s trust and he won’t be invited to work in the lab ever again. He’ll take the suit again-

“Alright,” his mentor said. “That’s fair. I’ve said it before, you’ve got this Springsteen working-class hero vibe. I get it.”

The tension in Peter’s shoulders, which he wasn’t aware he was there, immediately melted away. He knew how incredibly stubborn Tony Stark was, so he considered the small victory enough to drop the college conversation completely. Without waiting for Mr. Stark, he turned back to his web-shooters, squinting at the microscopic grid of circuit boards beneath the external shell. In his last battle against someone who called himself Kingpin, they were crushed and have been malfunctioning ever since. He needed to get back to friendly neighborhood monitoring, so the conversation of college was hardly the first thing on his mind.

“It’s not like you’d have a hard time getting into MIT anyway,” Mr. Stark continued, rolling his chair back towards his table. “With that… super brain. Spider-brain. Whatever.”

He looks down at his suitcase. It’s barely held together by layers of multi-colored duct-tape, but it was the only thing in his apartment large enough to carry his necessities. Including his newest suit. He misses Ben’s tattered briefcase in that moment. It was small, but it was one of the only belongings he had left of his uncle. But like many other things, he had lost it in Europe. He always wished to take a small piece of Uncle Ben with him when he finally went to college. However, now he holds a tattered piece of luggage and a broken spirit. No Ben, no May, and no Tony. He’s alone.

It’s almost enough to make him regret his decision. Almost.

The rest of the walk to his dormitory is numb. He arrives at the Baker House before he realizes he’s crossed most of the campus, dodging the crowds of students already moved onto campus. The building is an odd shape, like an ocean wave or a ‘W’. There are groups of bright-eyed freshmen piling in the front door, some hugging and saying goodbye to their parents. Peter tries to ignore the sting in his eyes and chest as he weaves past them and ducks inside the building. He clutches his phone in his hand, glancing at the screen-shot of his email from the housing office. Room 309, it reads. His heart aches at the thought of not rooming with Ned like they had dreamed of since middle school. However, life, as always, had different plans for the pair. With Ned attending school over a thousand miles away at a technology school in Georgia, their dream is utterly crushed. May tells him, in his initial moment of turmoil and heartbreak, that it’s for the best; college is a new chapter of life, and he needs to embrace the new, uncomfortable experiences instead of run from them, she says.

So, without dwelling on his misery, Peter tugs his suitcase along into the nearest elevator. So far, he hasn’t seen Tony’s face plastered on any wall in this residence building so far. He’s grateful for the brief reprieve. He’s nervous to meet his random roommate; he hasn’t even gotten the chance to know the kid’s name yet, and he’s about to be living with him. He would be lying if he says it doesn’t make him nervous. It’s almost like he’s the sad, lonely, nerdy kid sitting by himself at the lunch table all over again.

Before the elevator doors close, a blonde-haired girl sticks her foot into the doorway and stumbles in. Her arms are full of boxes, stacked up so high that Peter can’t see her face. His hand leaves the handle of his luggage and he stumbles to help her, holding the elevator door open so she can stagger inside.

“Woah, thanks!” Peter still can’t see her past the boxes, but he can hear the smile in her voice. The elevator doors slide shut.

“Uh, what floor?” Peter asks, his fingers awkwardly hover over the elevator buttons. The girl huffs and drops her cardboard boxes to the ground, running her fingers through the pieces of hair that hung out in front of her face.

“Oh, five please,” she responds. “Thank you. My name’s Gwen. Gwen Stacey. This is my first semester here.” She sticks out her hand.

Peter clears the lump in his throat and shakes her hand. Her smile is warm and kind, and it’s a gesture of kindness that helps Peter unravel from the tight spindle of anxiety he’s spun himself into. “I’m Peter Parker, and me too. I’m a freshman. Do you need help with those boxes or--”

“What? I’m a woman so I’m unable to carry my own boxes?” She stares at him in a deadpan.

Peter feels his face burn up all the way up to his ears. Why do girls always say stuff like that? “What? No, no I was just--”

“Relax, I’m messing with you,” she says, shaking her head. The elevator dings on the third floor. “Well, see you later Peter Parker. Maybe we’ll run into each other.”

Peter tugs on his suitcase where it gets caught on the lip of the elevator’s threshold. “Yeah, sure, see you around, Gwen.” The elevator doors slide shut before he has much time to consider the encounter. At least he knows one person’s name around here.

The third floor is relatively empty, save for a few students and their parents finishing moving their stuff into their rooms. Most of the doors are propped open, and he can see students and their roommates setting up their beds, stocking their mini-fridges, and setting up their PlayStations as he passes by. 302. 303. 304. 305. He’s hyper-aware now of how pathetic he appears with his tattered suitcase. It’s got the necessities-- some clothes, simple twin bedding, and his toilet trees. May will meet him this first weekend to bring some more of his things down, but with a time conflict with work and her volunteer work at the FEAST center in Queens with Happy, she couldn’t take the time to help him move in this week. It’s okay, he thinks. It’s only a little bit bitter when he sees students hug their parents goodbye.

When he reaches room 309, the door is already propped open, and he hears music blasting from inside. He peeks inside. A boy, a solid six inches taller than Peter, stands in the room with his back to him, bobbing his head to the sound of the music playing from his phone perched on the windowsill. He has a few boxes and suitcases scattered on the ground below him. A pristine, black leather case is opened on the bed in front of him, some freshly-pressed dress shirts folded neatly inside. Peter’s stomach twists with nerves. It’s now or never.

He knocks on the open door with his knuckles. His roommate turns on his heels, seemingly not surprised by the sound. When he sees Peter standing in the doorway, an uncertain expression crosses his face for a split second before he erupts into a grin. “Hey, stranger! You must be my roommate.”

“309, right?” Peter laughs nervously, holding up his phone with uncertainty. He inches inside the room. The back of his neck tingles with nerves, and he’s unsure if it’s a real danger he’s sensing or if he’s just being a nervous wreck. Most likely the latter, he decides.

“Harry Osborn,” the boy introduces, extending a hand out towards Peter. His smile is charming and warm, but that doesn’t stop the cold, hard feeling of dread dropping in his gut. Osborn. He knows that name, but he hasn’t seen it since his school trip to Oscorp Industries. The one where he came home with an aching spider-bite on his left hand. He swallows his dread, takes Harry’s hand, and struggles to force a smile. Spider incident aside, he’s always been fond of Oscorp’s work, especially their recent focus on biomedical engineering-- a subject Peter himself is interested in exploring. But this is risky, Peter recognizes. He isn’t sure how involved Harry has been in Oscorp’s experiments, but this is the closest Peter has been to Oscorp since the initial bite. He needs to be careful.

“Peter Parker,” Peter says, surprised when Harry’s face lights up with the faintest sense of recognition. “You wouldn’t happen to have any connection to Oscorp Industries, would you?” He immediately regrets the question when Harry’s face twinges with unease. He swallows the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

Harry shakes his hand, giving Peter’s hand a firm squeeze before releasing him and turning back to his suitcase. He pulls the dress-shirts from the suitcase, slinging them onto wooden hangers and resting them at the foot of his bed. “No, don’t be sorry,” Harry says. “Norman’s my father, though I try not to involve myself too much with Oscorp. I wanted to be my own person, make my own decisions. Never thought my dad’s shadow was the place for me.”

Peter dislikes how much the sentiment resonates with him. He believes he has no right to consider Tony any sort of father figure-- after all, Mr. Stark left behind a child of his own-- and Peter was not his son. As hard as it is for him to force himself to believe that and to push down any childish hope he had that somehow Tony would fill in that impenetrable void that Ben left, he has to accept it. It would be unfair to everyone else that lost Tony. He’s not the only one in mourning. He’s not the only one left to deal with the shadow that Iron Man left behind. At least after Europe, he’s started that healing process. He doesn’t have to be Tony.

“Is this your first semester here?” Harry asks, catching Peter off guard. He’s now by his closet, struggling with the small, creaky door as he shoves his hangers onto the metal beam.

Peter realizes he’s still standing in the doorway of the room, holding his luggage awkwardly. He shakes it off and saunters inside, dragging his suitcase behind him. “Yeah,” he mutters, hoisting his luggage onto the slightly lofted bed and unzips it. “What about you?” He turns on his heel to face Harry again.

“Me too, but I’m a sophomore,” Harry explains, shutting the closet door and moving back towards his bed. Peter notices his roommate’s twin bed already made thin, black silk sheets. Peter isn’t usually concerned with appearances, but he feels his face slightly burning with shame as he tugs the bargain twin bedding set from his suitcase. “I used to go to Empire State University, but my dad didn’t think it was challenging enough.”

“MIT’s a pretty big step up,” Peter mutters. “Did you like ESU?” He’s asking out of curiosity for MJ. She decided to stay in New York to be close to her family, and ESU seemed like the best bet. Peter was inches away from following her there, but the MIT acceptance letter pinned on the fridge stared at him with such distaste that he couldn’t go through with it. He’s sure that May and Happy would support him no matter where he decided to go, but his internal guilt complex convinced him that Tony would never forgive him if he didn’t choose MIT.

Tony’s dead, Peter thinks bitterly. He doesn’t care what you do.

Harry turns back and smiles at Peter, shrugging his shoulders. “I liked it enough,” he says. “The parties were fun. You’ve ever been to a college party?”

Peter tries to physically force down the flushing of his cheeks that he knows is coming. Just his luck that he gets randomly paired with the coolest, richest guy at MIT. “No, I barely even went to a high school party, it just--”

“I’m taking you to your first party,” Harry insists, his arms spread out as he approaches Peter and claps him on the shoulders. “There’s a group of people meeting at Cambridge. It’s totally your scene. It’s like the perfect mix between a science fair and a fraternity party.”

His brain goes into overdrive. It’s hardly his first day at MIT, and someone’s already trying to get him to go to a party. He’s inclined to refuse off the bat, his brain ringing with panicked alarm bells. What if he needs to go out as Spider-Man? What if he finds another Flash to torment him? What if anything goes wrong?

Before he can come up with an adequate excuse, Harry’s phone is ringing. He steps away from Peter, holding up a finger and pressing his mobile phone to the side of his cheek. Peter tunes out the conversation, turning back to his suitcase and unfolding everything that is crammed inside. He feels tears stinging at his eyes. Mortified, he swipes at them with the sleeve of his shirt, glaring down at his clothes in hope that the wave of emotion will pass. He’s horrifically embarrassed, but the weight of everything is crashing down onto him.

He misses May. He misses Happy. He misses Tony. He longs for his friends. He wishes Ned was there to joke with him and talk about Star Wars as they set up their dorm room together. He wishes Michelle was there to give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him he’s being overdramatic. Peter regrets coming to college at this moment. It’s a dramatic thought, he knows, but there’s nothing now to buffer the sadness that creeps into his chest as he stares at his shabby suitcase open on his bed. Selfishly, he wants May to be there in that moment to help him make this tiny dorm room feel like home. But he’s not sure anything away from May could feel like home. However, May is busy and has her own life now. It doesn’t revolve around taking care of Peter anymore, and he should be accepting of that. He’s stolen so many years of her life, first when his parents passed, and then even more so when Ben died. She’s been raising him on her own for so long, supported him through so much, including superhero antics, and she deserves the world.

She deserves to be happy without him.

“So, are you in?” Harry asks, but Peter almost misses it. He turns after aggressively wiping his eyes. It would be terrifying if his suave, cool roommate saw him losing his composure not even a day into college. He clears his throat, darting his eyes across the room.

“Uh, I’m not sure if it’s a good idea, I mean--” he’s cut off by Harry laughing heartily, shaking his head and turning back to his bed. He pulls his silver-colored luggage off of his bed and slips it underneath, hiding it from view. He pulls himself up onto the edge of the bed, crossing his legs at his ankle.

“I can tell already that you’re kind of a recluse. Maybe a bit of a nerd.” Harry says, and Peter tries to ignore the pang of hurt in his chest at the words. Harry must notice this because he immediately starts back-pedaling. “But hey! That’s fine! I was nerdy in high school, it’s chill. Besides, it’s Thursday and classes don’t start until Monday. You can take one night!”

Peter casts him a doubtful glance. He knows May would jump on the idea of him going out to a party, on his first night no less. She always wants him to reach out of his comfort zone, to not let his fear of being different hold him back from experiencing college like any other normal kid. Hell, maybe even to experience it as Tony did. It was something that Mr. Stark adamantly advised against, with the number of parties and recklessness he got himself involved in. However, even though Peter’s smart, Tony was an absolute genius. His mentor could get away with spending his time at parties, but Peter probably wasn’t so prepared. He has to work hard, and especially with his side gig, he can’t afford to have anything go wrong. As he ponders, he mindlessly pulls all of his clothes and toiletries from his suitcase, refolding them and organizing them into piles. It’s pointless to refold everything; he’ll just have to store everything into his closet and dresser later. But for now, it’s the only thing to keep his racing mind and trembling fingers occupied. He’s afraid he’ll fall over if he moves.

“How do you even know there’s a party?” Peter asks, desperately trying to stall to buy himself some more time to make up his mind. He’s torn between wanting to just relax and find the peace he desperately searched for on his summer trip to Europe and playing it safe and staying home. Harry seems like a nice enough guy, with his crooked smile and relaxed demeanor. “You said this was your first semester here.”

“You underestimate my power,” Harry jokes, lying back on the bed. He’s staring up at the ceiling, swinging his legs where they hang off of the edge of the bed. “Some of my friends from high school go here, and a few of them go to Cambridge too.”

Peter takes a deep breath. It’s now or never. Despite his nerves, he would want May and Tony to be proud of him. And maybe this was the right way to start his college career-- without any worry, bonding with his new roommate, and maybe even making some friends. Worst case scenario, he can come home if he hates it.

“When’s the party?”

-------------------------

After the sun had set and after a short ride in Harry’s very expensive Rolls Royce, they arrived at the Cambridge quad. He’s wearing a short-sleeved button-up and jeans with his ratty sneakers, an outfit eerily reminiscent of what he wore to Liz’s party all those years ago his sophomore year. Only this time, he isn’t wearing his suit underneath. It’s a party in Cambridge. Spider-Man doesn’t live near Cambridge. There’s no reason for him to be here, right?

There were already tons of people huddled around, neon lights strung across people’s necks, and music blaring from robotic speakers perched on all four corners of the quad. It isn’t long before they’re all swept up, and Peter completely loses Harry within the first five minutes. He doesn’t recognize any of the faces in the crowd. He stumbles forward, snaking his way through the thickening crowd until he finds an open clearing.

Everyone in the crowd circles around this one circular area around the pavement, leaving a large clearing. Two drones fly overhead, projecting two small, white spotlights onto the clear area of pavement. Two figures-- a boy and a girl-- sit in the circle facing each other, their hands fiddling with controllers in their hands. There are two robots-- each one with extremely different designs and structures-- fighting one another in the center.

One of them is blue and robust, two rotating blades on its shoulders. It dives towards the smaller robot, a slate gray skinny robot that seems to be made of some kind of nanotechnology. Each working component of the second robot is microscopic and detailed, and it moves with extreme ease and agility. Peter struggles to recognize it as a robot for a moment, but he watches the girl’s thumbs twitch on the joysticks in conjunction with the robot’s movements. It dodges the swinging blade of the boy’s robot-- who curses beneath his breath and fumbles with his controller. Peter has never seen anything like this, even before he quit the robotics lab at Midtown Tech. His eyes wide in awe, staring as the two strike, parry, and dodge with their two robots. He’s startled when he feels a hand tap his shoulder. He nearly jumps out of his skin, twisting his neck around to see Harry standing behind him, pressing an opened bottle of beer into his hand. Peter takes it, surprised. “Harry, I didn’t know where you went.”

“I went to find us some drinks,” Harry says, lifting his own beer to show Peter. He turns his attention back to the robots. They continue to fight, the crowd crying out and urging the players on. The drones circle overhead, flashing now all sorts of colors across the makeshift bot fighting arena. The blue robot charges forward yet again, its circular blades extending out and forming an X in front of it as it corners the nano-bot at the edge of the arena.

He turns to Harry, eyes wide, searching for some sort of explanation. “This is so amazing!” Peter cries, gesturing wildly to the fighting arena before them. “I haven’t seen technology like this anywhere but Mr. Stark’s lab.” He cuts himself off, sucking in a deep breath.

Thankfully, Harry doesn’t seem to be paying too close attention to what Peter is saying, because he takes another swig from his bottle and points to the two bots wrestling in the center. “You won’t see this anywhere else, Pete,” he says. “I told you this party would be your scene.”

In the short moment he’s looking at Harry, the slim robot gains the upper hand. The broad robot is lying haphazardly on the ground, sparks radiating from the frayed edges of wire protruding from the midriff of the bot. The smaller, nanotechnological robot stands tall and proud. The crowd around them erupts into cheers, and the girl-- who Peter now dumbfoundedly recognizes as Gwen Stacey-- jumps to her feet, bouncing with her arms thrown triumphantly over her head.

“That’s Gwen Stacey,” Harry says from behind him, pressing the green glass bottle to his lips. “She went to my high school and worked as an intern at Oscorp. She’s brilliant.”

Peter bites his lip as he watches Gwen relish in her victory, grasping at a money pile thrown into the center. That type of robotics work is truly impressive, and he would love to talk to Gwen to figure out how she manufactured something like that. He hasn’t had the chance to work with engineering robotics since the last time he was in Tony’s lab, which was years ago.

Harry nudges him with his elbow, gesturing to the beer bottle sitting untouched in his hand. “C’mon Pete. Loosen up a bit,” he urges with a comically large grin. “We’ve gotta get drunk before we can talk to girls. I can introduce you to Gwen if you want.”

“What? Oh no, I wasn’t--” Peter blabbers, his cheeks and ears heating up red. He’s grateful that the strobe lights of the drones hovering overhead hide his deep blush. Or, he hopes they hide it anyway.

“I saw the heart eyes you were sending her way, Petey. It’s okay, there’s no need to be embarrassed--”

Peter yelps and grabs Harry by the elbow in alarm as the elder moves away towards Gwen’s direction. Harry stops in his tracks and turns back to Peter, eyebrows turned up with amusement. Peter licks at his lips. “I don’t like Gwen like that. I just met her!” he interjects, shaking his head. “Besides, I have a girlfriend. I don’t need to get drunk and meet girls.”

Harry blinks, his face blank with surprise for a second before he erupts in laughter and hooks an arm around Peter’s neck, pulling him close into his side. Peter pretends to struggle, knowing full well he could lay Harry out in an instant if he really needed to. It’s strange to him how comfortable and carefree Harry seems to be around Peter already, given that they had only met a few hours ago. “You have a girlfriend? I’ll admit I didn’t see that coming. What’s her name?”

Peter swallows the hurt he feels at Harry’s remark. “Her name’s Michelle, but I call her MJ,” he explains, feeling the tension unwind from his shoulders after just mentioning her. He misses her so much; they had hardly gotten a proper goodbye before she had to leave for college, which started a week before Peter even moved to MIT.

Harry claps Peter on the back and finishes his beer with one more big gulp, holding the bottle sloppily between his fingers. “I’m happy for you, Pete. But regardless, you should meet Gwen. She’s in your semester, so you’ll probably have some classes together.”

Before he can argue, Harry has his hand on Peter’s wrist and is dragging him in Gwen’s direction. She’s still surrounded on all sides by other students. They’re taking turns looking at her nano-robot, turning the invention over in their hands, trying to inspect for any flaws in the design. Gwen stands with her arms crossed over her chest triumphantly. She turns her chin their way, and her eyes light up with recognition. She snatches her bot from a boy’s hands and rushes over to Harry, enveloping him into a tight, bone-crushing hug. Harry drops Peter’s hand to return the hug, shoving his empty beer bottle into Peter’s empty hand.

“Harry! Haven’t seen you around in forever. How are you?” she asks as she pulls back from the hug. She looks at Peter, smiling brightly at him. “Hey, Peter!”

Harry looks between the two, perplexed. “You know each other?”

“We met in the Baker elevator,” Gwen explains. Her eyes lock on the untouched beer bottle in Peter’s hands. “Are you going to drink that?”

Peter shakes his head and hands her the bottle, trying to ignore the exasperated look Harry’s giving him from the corner of his eye. He’s still too nervous to drink, not to mention not old enough.

“Well, Peter drew the short stick and got paired with me as a roommate,” Harry says, hooking his room around Peter’s neck yet again. “He seemed pretty impressed by your little robot display there, Stacey.”

Gwen’s eyes light up, and she practically downs Peter’s beer in one go before shoving the small robot into Peter’s hands. “Isn’t it cool?” she gleams, stepping up to stand on Peter’s right side. She leans close to him, pointing to a microprocessor that looks similar to the one in the back of Peter’s phone. “This little thing has billions of resource files packed into this tiny processing chip. It’s a little trick I learned while working on surgical bots at Oscorp.”

Peter swallows his nerves. The likelihood of anyone around him knowing about the incident that took place a few years ago is next to none. He needs to relax, despite the soft buzz radiating from the base of his skull. He dismisses it as his senses retaliating at the sudden noxious stimuli of a college party. He focuses his attention on the robot in his hands, but his focus is not on the microprocessor or motherboard. He’s focused on the slate material that actually makes up the robot. They are exactly what he expected-- nanobots. They’re tightly stacked together, their seams nearly invisible but Peter has an extraordinarily sharp eye. Especially when it came to technology. He wonders where a girl like Gwen could have gotten tech like this. This type of nanotechnology was fresh out of Wakanda-- or at least, that’s what Mr. Stark had him to believe. He had only seen portions of Tony’s work with the tech during their sparse lab hours when Tony was working on a housing unit for nanoparticles for his newest Mark L. To see them in a domestic, college bot-fight baffles Peter.

It’s in moments like these where he realizes that he was gone for five years. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that he’s living five years in the past. To be fair, it felt like mere seconds for him. One second, his body was screaming for help as he painfully chipped away into dust, holding onto his mentor for dear life, tears streaming down his cheeks… and the next he awoke to an entirely different world. Things were the same, but it never truly felt the same. He sometimes feels like he’s stuck in that time. It's been some time since the final showdown against Thanos, but he’s still catching up for that lost time. When he was working with Mr. Stark in the lab, Thanos hadn’t even come to earth yet. That was over five years ago. Maybe nanotechnology is all the rage, highly accessible now. Peter would be none the wiser.

“This is really good work, Gwen,” Peter compliments, turning the bot over in his fingers and brushing his thumb over the slate-gray, metallic material. “But this processor is nothing compared to the assortment of nanobots you have on this. That’s how it can move so fluidly, right? The weight balance with these bots is so light… These are made of carbon fiber, aren’t they? That would explain the rigidity ratio-”

“I’m impressed you noticed,” she interjects, taking the robot from Peter’s hands when he’s finished examining every inch of it. Peter thinks that Gwen is blushing, but he can’t really tell from where she’s standing at his side. “They were useful for non-invasive surgical procedures that Oscorp was researching. Let’s just say I… borrowed a few.”

“You seem to know a lot about this kinda tech, Pete,” Harry remarks. “I would look into MIT robotics. I heard spots fill up fast at the beginning of the semester, so if you want to, now’s your chance.”

“You’re thinking about joining?” Gwen asks with her eyebrows raised. Peter moves to interject; he’s not sure he should be committing himself to any extracurriculars other than his Avenger duties. He could barely handle the balance of work, school, and life in high school when the stakes were relatively low. But now he’s at MIT and the world is still looking to Spider-Man to step up as an Avenger’s key player. School and work just got a whole lot more complicated. He doesn’t want to overextend. However, all of his weak protests are ignored as Gwen speaks over him. “I’m pretty much already on the team, my good family friend is becoming the captain this year, so I can put in a great word for you. All you’d have to do is pass the audition and you’re golden!”

Peter stops in his tracks. “An audition?”

Gwen laughs at his cluelessness. “Well, yeah, they can’t just let anyone in. It’s incredibly competitive,” she says. “The team works together all year to present a finished product at the MIT Alumni-Stark Expo. Tons of job scouts and scientists looking for new tech to enter the field. Last year this senior girl named Felicia created this human tissue 3-D printer and she got a job at Mayo Clinic or something.”

“What is the audition? What do I have to do?” He’s asking out of pure curiosity, Peter tells himself. While the prospect of working with multiple great-minded students to put together robotics projects that could actually make a difference unlike his recreational robotics work at Midtown.

“It’s pretty easy,” she says. Her blue eyes flicker down to the robot lying in her palm. She turns it over in her fingers as if testing the texture of the metal against her fingertips. He looks back up at Peter, and she gestures to the bot. “You have to win the match. Think about it. I’ll see you around, Peter.”

She turns after saying a warm goodbye to Harry and disappears into the thickening crowd. The small circle that had been cleared for the fight was overtaken again, and the spot-light drones were nowhere to be seen above him. Peter stands there dazed for a moment. He turns to Harry, looking at him helplessly. He isn’t sure what to take from that interaction with Gwen Stacey. For one, she’s absolutely brilliant. To get a high-up internship at Oscorp, she had to be smart, but the way she worked with those nanobots was revolutionary. The only other person he had met with such confidence in their robotics was Tony Stark.

“She took your beer man, I’m sorry,” Harry says, though he doesn’t seem that sorry. His attention is split across the party. He’s itching to get into the fray-- Peter can tell by the way he’s shifting his weight from side to side and darting his eyes to every group standing off at the sidelines drinking-- and Peter feels a pang of guilt. He’s likely the reason Harry’s still hanging around watching robot fighting. Although it’s a sweet gesture, Peter doesn’t want Harry ruining the party for himself for Peter’s sake.

“If you want to go dance and drink with your friends, you can,” Peter says. He tries not to feel insecure, but he’s ultimately failing. He doesn’t want to be babysat. “I’ll be fine.”

Harry blanches, staring at Peter as if the boy has sprouted a second head. Peter rubs at his neck, maybe to check that there is, in fact, no head growing from the side of his neck. “No way, Pete,” Harry cries. He grabs Peter by the wrist and pulls him from the dispersing crowd. “This party hasn’t even properly started. C’mon, I want to introduce you to some people.”

The night goes by in a blur. He follows Harry from party to party, largely ignoring every drink his roommate shoves into his hand. And finally, when Harry is a little too tipsy to keep going and hitches a cab back to MIT campus, he insists that he takes Peter for fresh air. That’s how Peter ends up standing with Harry at the top of MIT’s robotics lab.

Harry’s sitting on the ground with his back to the railing, his fifth beer of the night pressed to his lips. Peter has one in his hands, largely untouched. Out of boredom, he takes a few sips, grimacing at the bitter taste. It burns on his tongue, but it keeps the sleepiness from clouding his eyes.

“What’s she like?” Harry asks, suddenly. It breaks the peaceful silence that has settled between the two. “Your girlfriend Michelle.” He tilts his head as he looks at Peter, and for a moment Peter thinks he’s actually interested in what he has to say. Feeling sheepish, Peter pulls his phone from his pocket and finds the last photo they took together on their last date to Hart Island near the Bronx. It was a morbid date in retrospect, but Peter knew how much MJ wanted to see some of the spookiest places New York had to offer, so he decided to take her to a few he found after a quick Google search. Even though she likes dates at ancient burial grounds, Peter wouldn’t give it up for the world.

He shows the picture to Harry. “That’s her,” he says, motioning to the photo. “She’s awesome. I had a crush on her for a while, and we got together during a… school trip to Europe. It was pretty cool.”

“Europe, how romantic,” Harry comments, looking at the photo on Peter’s phone for another moment before handing it back to him. Peter takes his phone back, leaning up against the cool metal railing on the roof of the building. It’s late, almost two in the morning, but he can’t help the desire to text MJ and check in on her.

I know it’s late. Or early, he types. I just wanted to say I miss you. Call me when you can.

He pockets his phone, letting out a defeated sigh.

“You’re not a sad drunk, are you?” Harry asks from his place on the floor.

Peter stifles a laugh. “I’m not even drunk, dude. You are.”

“Oops.” Harry stretches his arms out above his head with an exaggerated yawn. “Was I drunk or did you say something about ‘Mr. Stark’s lab’ earlier during the robot fight? There’s no way you meant like… Tony Stark. Iron-Man. Right?”

This is what Peter feared. It’s not that his connection with Tony Stark would give away his connection with Spider-Man. He truly was Tony’s intern after all. But that didn’t mean it was any easier to talk about. The whole world lost Iron-Man. But Peter lost Tony. No one knows who he really is, so he’s not allowed to be any more upset than everyone else.

“What? No- I mean, I’ve been in his lab, but not that often,” he begins to stammer, trying to find a way to downplay it and avoid as much conversation about Tony Stark as possible.

“Dude, you were in Iron Man’s lab?” Harry stares at him incredulously. “What the hell?”

Peter rubs at the back of his neck. It’s certainly buzzing now, like a low warning growl that’s letting him now he’s steering too far in the wrong direction. Ever since Europe, he tries to listen to the nagging sense in the back of his mind whenever he can. But he’s still unsure why it seems to be going off around Harry so frequently. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

“I was an intern at Stark Industries,” Peter mutters, trying to avoid Harry’s curious eyes. “Only for like six months, but it was a really cool experience. I only met him a few times.”

“You never told me you were a genius, Pete,” Harry chimes, the smile in his voice evident before Peter can even turn around and see the stupid grin on his face.

“Everyone at this school is smart,” Peter chides. He places his half-full beer bottle on the ground and takes the spot next to Harry. He presses his back against the railing and leans his head back to gaze at the stars. Someone mentioned to him once that during those five years that everyone was gone, you could almost see the milky way in the sky. But he can’t see it today.

Harry nudges him on the shoulder. “I didn’t say you were smart,” he amends. “You’re a genius. I don’t think most kids here at MIT would be able to even get that gig. Believe me, I tried.” He gestures to himself as if the mere thought of him being turned away from Stark Industries was unfathomable. That’s something that Peter’s noticed about Harry in the short time that he’s known him: an ego too large for his head. But in some ways, Peter finds it endearing. It reminds him of someone.

Peter stares at Harry with disbelief. “You tried to be a Stark intern? But your dad--”

“My dad wanted to send me to boarding school for the rest of my life after he found out,” Harry laughs as if remembering a fond memory. There’s a trace of a painful smile on his face. Like he’s remembering something that maybe isn’t there anymore. “He was absolutely livid.. My dad doesn’t do well with competition. But I didn’t want to work for my dad, so the next best bet was Stark.”

There’s a full, bitter silence that settles between them at that moment. Peter knows, even without the uneasiness crawling under his skin, that Harry does not like his dad very much. There’s tension in the boy’s jaw when he talks about him, but the somewhat soft, longing look in his face when he talks about him is enough to make Peter question it. It’s a complicated relationship, it seems. And it also is one that is none of his business.

“What do your parents do, Pete?” Harry asks after clearing his throat, probably to clear that suffocating lull that fell between them.

Peter licks his lips. “It’s just my aunt May and I,” he says. “She worked as a nurse in an ER, but now she’s running a homeless shelter in Queens.”

Harry nods respectfully. “She sounds nice.”

“She’s the best.” Peter forces himself to take another sip of his beer.

They sit like that, together, in silence until Peter’s phone clock reads three in the morning. Peter feels the exhaustion in his bones-- from the long day of travel, the stressful, lonely move in, and now the aftermath fatigue of his first actual college party. He wants to curl up into bed, call Aunt May, and tell her everything that happened today. Hell, maybe she’d even try to talk him into joining that robotics team. But he can’t. It’s far too late to call her now, so he has no other choice but to lug Harry to his feet and back to their dormitory in the ungodly hours of the morning. He doesn’t change out of his clothes or brush his teeth when he gets home. He simply deposits Harry by his bed, urging him to get into bed. But all that Peter has strength left for is to crawl into his bed with his jeans still on and fall asleep instantly.

#my writing #my fic #spider-man angst #spider-man fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #harry osborn #irondad #ironfam #tony stark #irondad fanfic #irondad fanfiction #tom holland

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tiergan-vashir · 5 years

Text

Character Astrology

Filling out that meme before reminded me of that time I chatted with @huntspeak and figured out what the Sun, Rising, and Moon signs of Tiergan and Lurial were. Now I’m dropping them here so I can tag them and easily find them later!

Tiergan Vashir

Sagittarius Sun | Cancer Moon | Capricorn Rising

Lurial Vashir

Capricorn Sun | Aquarius Moon | Scorpio Rising

Full details under the cut.

Tiergan Vashir

Sagittarius Sun (Who You Are)

Strengths: Generous, idealistic, great sense of humor Weaknesses: Promises more than can deliver, very impatient, will say anything no matter how undiplomatic Sagittarius likes: Freedom, travel, philosophy, being outdoors Sagittarius dislikes: Clingy people, being constrained, off-the-wall theories, details

Curious and energetic, Sagittarius is one of the biggest travelers among all zodiac signs. Their open mind and philosophical view motivates them to wander around the world in search of the meaning of life.

Sagittarius is extrovert, optimistic and enthusiastic, and likes changes. Sagittarius-born are able to transform their thoughts into concrete actions and they will do anything to achieve their goals.

Like the other fire signs, Sagittarius needs to be constantly in touch with the world to experience as much as possible. The ruling planet of Sagittarius is Jupiter, the largest planet of the zodiac. Their enthusiasm has no bounds, and therefore people born under the Sagittarius sign possess a great sense of humor and an intense curiosity.

Freedom is their greatest treasure, because only then they can freely travel and explore different cultures and philosophies. Because of their honesty, Sagittarius-born are often impatient and tactless when they need to say or do something, so it's important to learn to express themselves in a tolerant and socially acceptable way.

Cancer Moon (Your Inner Self. Your base Reactions, Instincts, and Emotions.)

Strengths: Tenacious, highly imaginative, loyal, emotional, sympathetic, persuasive Weaknesses: Moody, pessimistic, suspicious, manipulative, insecure Cancer likes: Art, home-based hobbies, relaxing near or in water, helping loved ones, a good meal with friends Cancer dislikes: Strangers, any criticism of Mom, revealing of personal life

This is the most subjective position of the Moon. The Moon is “at home” in the sign of Cancer, as the Moon is the natural ruler of the sign.Moon in Cancer natives have a large potential to be able to get in touch with the feelings and moods of others. Often, they are quite wrapped up in themselves. Their memories of the past are outstanding, especially for all things emotional. Moon in Cancer people are rarely detached—;they cling to things, their home, and people they care for. They seek out security and familiarity in all they do. They look for peace and quiet. Their attachment to all that is safe means they are a little leery of change.

These peace-loving souls dislike superficiality in all of its forms. They are devoted and accommodating. The insecure ones accumulate things in an attempt to feel secure. Because of their strong attachment to, and memory of, the past, others may complain that Moon in Cancer natives tend to whip a dead horse. They may dwell on hurts long after everyone else has moved on. When they feel they have been taken for granted (which may be often!), they don’t always confront others directly. This is when they can use roundabout ways to get your attention. In fact, these natives, when they are insecure, can become quite manipulative. They can also be victims of habit.

These people can have a hard time compartmentalizing their lives, simply because their watery Moon tends to know no boundaries. Sometimes, as a result, they may act irrationally.One of the most delightful characteristics of Moon in Cancer people is their loony sense of humor. These people can be extraordinarily funny. Their moodiness can baffle others, but their unique outlook on life is something most people can appreciate.

When treated with tenderness and understanding, Moon in Cancer natives return the favor with warmth and protection. Give them security, and you’ll take the crabbiness out of the Crab, at least for awhile. These people are wonderfully dependable overall, despite their occasional mood swings. Make a friend of Moon in Cancer, and you will be taken care of for life.

Capricorn Rising (How You Are to the World. Natural defenses and how you cope with day-to-day issues)

Strengths: Responsible, disciplined, self-control, good managers Weaknesses: Know-it-all, unforgiving, condescending, expecting the worst Capricorn likes: Family, tradition, music, understated status, quality craftsmanship Capricorn dislikes: Almost everything at some point

There’s a seriousness to Capricorn rising people that is unmistakable. Even when they’re joking around, it’s of the deadpan variety. In fact, plenty of very humorous people have Capricorn Ascendants. It’s all in the timing…and the fact that they don’t giggle before the joke is over.

Capricorn rising people are generally big on family, and forever worry about security–for themselves and their dependents. They come across to others as hard-working, competent, and dependable people. What others may not see under that cool, even suave, exterior, is an inner struggle: they often ask themselves, “Am I doing enough?”, “Do I deserve all of this?”, “How can I make things better?” They worry a lot about the future.

If success seemed to have come easy to these folks, it hasn’t. They just made it look that way with a patient, hard-working, driven personality. Some Capricorn rising people practice some form of self-denial. They know how to do away with the frivolous. Still, they’ll spend money on the clothes they really want (the ones with the right labels, that is), and other status symbols. Although they’re rarely showy, their quiet air of success is often a result of conscious effort.

More often than not, Capricorn rising individuals are success stories. Their childhoods may have been difficult, but they slowly but surely turn their lives around. Saturn rules this Ascendant, and this generally means a kind of backwards way of living–as children, they are serious and bear a lot of responsibility; and as they grow up, they age beautifully, learning how to loosen up.

Lurial Vashir

Capricorn Sun (Who You Are)

Capricorn is a sign that represents time and responsibility, and its representatives are traditional and often very serious by nature. These individuals possess an inner state of independence that enables significant progress both in their personal and professional lives. They are masters of self-control and have the ability to lead the way, make solid and realistic plans, and manage many people who work for them at any time. They will learn from their mistakes and get to the top based solely on their experience and expertise.

Belonging to the element of Earth, like Taurus and Virgo, this is the last sign in the trio of practicality and grounding. Not only do they focus on the material world, but they have the ability to use the most out of it. Unfortunately, this element also makes them stiff and sometimes too stubborn to move from one perspective or point in a relationship. They have a hard time accepting differences of other people that are too far from their character, and out of fear might try to impose their traditional values aggressively.

Saturn is the ruling planet of Capricorn, and this planet represents restrictions of all kinds. Its influence makes these people practical and responsible, but also cold, distant and unforgiving, prone to the feeling of guilt and turned to the past. They need to learn to forgive in order to make their own life lighter and more positive.

Aquarius Moon (Your Inner Self. Your base Reactions, Instincts, and Emotions.)

Strengths: Progressive, original, independent, humanitarian Weaknesses: Runs from emotional expression, temperamental, uncompromising, aloof Aquarius likes: Fun with friends, helping others, fighting for causes, intellectual conversation, a good listener Aquarius dislikes: Limitations, broken promises, being lonely, dull or boring situations, people who disagree with them

Moon in Aquarius people are extremely observant. They are lifetime students of human nature, loving to analyze why people do what they do. This often stems from a detached–even shy–personality, especially in youth. Whether due to character or conditioning, Moon in Aquarius people often grow up feeling “different”. Although rather sociable, they are often loners at heart. Many have strong egos, or at least powerful defense mechanisms, and most Lunar Aquarians will do their best to be the most unique and unusual person they can be. Their inner feeling of loneliness that they don’t quite fit in puts them on the outside, looking in.

There is a very idealistic and progressive streak in Lunar Aquarians that is admirable indeed. However, when the Moon is in Aquarius, natives often will deny the more irrational qualities of emotions such as jealousy, possessiveness, and fear in an effort to be “above” what they consider “pettiness”. When this goes too far, Lunar Aquarians can be emotionally blocked, distant, and detached.

Although given to temper tantrums and willful behavior in youth, Moon in Aquarius people often grow up feeling that messy emotions are unappealing. They often pride themselves for being cool-headed, detached, and “above” what they consider the baser emotions. In the process, they can end up alienating others and themselves. Although Lunar Aquarians can be especially adept at understanding others’ behavior and motivations, they can lose touch with their own simply because they have identified too strongly with what they aspire to be (and these aspirations are often super-human).

The Aquarian tendency to be humanitarian shows up powerfully in Moon in Aquarius. However, their kindness and concern for others is generally more a broad philosophy of life. With people close to them, Moon in Aquarius natives can seemingly lack compassion, as they often fully expect others to be as independent and detached as they are! In close, personal relationships, however, Lunar Aquarians generally give others a lot of personal freedom, and they will tolerate and enjoy all kinds of idiosyncrasies in people around them.

Scorpio Rising (How You Are to the World. Natural defenses and how you cope with day-to-day issues)

Strengths: Resourceful, brave, passionate, stubborn, a true friend Weaknesses: Distrusting, jealous, secretive, violent Scorpio likes: Truth, facts, being right, longtime friends, teasing, a grand passion Scorpio dislikes: Dishonesty, revealing secrets, passive people

Scorpio Ascendant people have a lot of presence. There is something about them that tells the world that they are not to be pushed around. Their manner commands respect, and in some cases, fear. Scorpio rising people can be quiet or loud, but they always seem powerful and determined.

You either love or hate Scorpio rising people –they are rarely people who go through life unnoticed. In fact, some of them are confused when faced with the fact that they get such strong reactions from others. They seem to look right through people, seeing through superficiality. This can be quite intimidating to some, and intriguing to others. Scorpio rising people, in their dealings with others, look for answers by reading between the lines. Surface details are discarded when they are getting a feel for people and situations around them.

Scorpio rising people value their privacy so much, it can border on paranoia. They have a strong need to control their environment and are experts at strategy. Rarely people who will blow their chances with impatience, they plan out their moves carefully and deliberately, relying on their awesome ability to feel out others and situations.

Scorpio rising natives are drawn to down-to-earth, natural partners. Reliability in their partner is very important. They generally look for complete commitment and have little patience with flighty partners.

#character astrology #tiergan vashir #lurial vashir #astrology

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distinctivelibrarians · 5 years

Note

First: I love that you're writing fic again, I really missed your work! Second: no idea if you're up for this/want to think about this, but in one of the Leverage episodes we see Eliot reading a book (idk which episode, just, it seemed both such an Eliot thing and NOT an Eliot thing that it just stuck with me) and I was wondering about your headcanons for the Leverage (and/or Librarians) team's favorite books/authors?

Thank you so much! You cannot believe how hard it made me smile when I saw this - it made my day so much better, especially since writing’s been so much of a struggle lately! I can’t promise I’m going to be steady (’cause let’s not lie to ourselves like that) but with prompt month coming up, I’m hoping to get some more out soon that I hope you’ll like!

As for books! Big, big, big disclaimer: I suck with authors! And books! I’ve read a lot. But for the life of me, I can tell you only about...a third of them from memory. And authors are a crapshoot whether or not I remember them, outside of my favorites. That being said! This is going to go more “personality towards reading”, hope that’s okay ^^’

While it doesn’t super matter, we see Eliot reading both the Art of War (I believe. I’d have to double check, but I’m pretty sure that’s what he was reading in the Lonely Hearts Job?) and a home magazine in the Fairy Godparents Job. So for Eliot, he’s...he’s a sponge. He likes everything, will read everything - if there’s some sort of ambient knowledge he can get from something, he’s gonna do it. And I kind of want to attribute it to both his personality and his experience. Like, we know he likes to talk to people (even if the show really only focuses on the women), we know he likes to connect with people - he listens, learns what they like, what they do, etc. So it makes sense that he’d kind of just absorb everything he could - could be a common quirk later on that he could talk about, could give him an in to start chatting up someone interesting, and all that. As for experience - “You never know when you’re going to need to fight an alien”. Dude likes to be prepared even for the impossible. Him picking up as much unconnected information as he can would have to bleed over into somewhat less immediately useful quirks. Like reading whatever magazine happens to be on the table at the moment.

Nate - okay so. I love Nate, I do. But he was that kid in your college philosophy class that read all the classics (the Old White Men ones) and one (1) book on intro to ethics, and would Not. Shut. Up. Then someone punched him in the face (I’m betting Maggie), and he figured out that that’s not how you make people tolerate you, let alone like you. I don’t think he ever really moved out of the classics, but I do think he started picking up modern interpretations of them, as well as art history books that he never quite got into but powered through anyway. You know his favorites though? Children’s books. Simple, sweet, always have a happy ending, and you know he was the one reading them to Sam every night before he got sick. And he’d complain and moan about it to Maggie, but Maggie would call it on him everytime, and of course Sam loved it, to the point where if Nate was at work still, Maggie and Sam would call him up, and Nate would recite one of the simpler ones from memory. He still has Dr. Seuss stuck in his head some nights.

Parker....Parker’s a little harder because I don’t think she’d like reading. But she’d also kind of be like Eliot in the ‘you never know, so might as well store the info away’. So while I don’t think she’d go out and pick up a book - unless the title was funky, or the cover was particularly eye-catching - I do think if you handed one to her, she’d read it, and read it probably scary fast, and retain all that info. No matter what it was on. Of course, that’s before Peggy! After Peggy, after having a ‘normal’ friend (anyone who goes after someone with a cast iron pan’s not normal, but hey, relative), who introduces her to things like book clubs, I think Parker would get a kick out of, not the books, but the people. And interacting with those people through the books. She’s already read the book two weeks in advance, and she wants to see how much chaos she can cause, while also enjoying figuring out how what she’s feeling compares with how others feel about it. For Parker I really don’t think she’d ever really be ‘in’ to books, but I can see her becoming attached to the community that can come with them.

Sophie. No one knows if Sophie’s read a book in her life. Sure, she can quote the classics. She can make you pretty damn sure she inspired one or two of them. And if she’s high class British, she has to have some repertoire in there, right? Who knows. She knows, but you never will. (Spoiler: she does read, and she reads a lot. What does she read? Surprisingly - not harlequin romances (at least, not all the time). Instead - really, really overdone crime thrillers and the like. It’s fun, you know, to dive into a world where everything’s dramatic, everything’s done for a purpose, and to know that both, she could do it better, and that sometimes, things really are as straightforward and simple as those books make them out to be.) She also has some very closely guarded copies of annotated Shakespeare. Annotated by her of course. Hardison has seen them once and he’s not to speak of them ever.

And on to Hardison. Dude’s smart. Dude’s scary smart. If Eliot’s a sponge, Hardison is...yeah, there’s no actual way to end that metaphor, but whatever, whatever level Eliot’s on, Hardison’s way past that, at an oblique angle to Parker. But, and he’s admitted this, his attention span swings between “needs five things at once” to “what is time and where did it go, look at this new skill I picked up in 72 straight hours”. That is...not conducive to reading books. Trust me on this. At the same time though!! We know he’s read Harry Potter, and Lord of the Rings in canon. So what that tells me? He read avidly as a kid, as a teenager, and then...probably lost both the attention span to do it, outside of Extreme Focus, as well as the need. This is the kid that at school was reading 800 page novels every other day. This was the kid who’s backpack was too damn heavy, not because of textbooks, but because of the books he packed on top of them. You know the school librarian knew him by name. And you know Nana made damn sure he had access to the city library the second she figured it out. Probably got him nice sets of his favorite books that he still has, even if they’re not tattered and beaten, because he’s reread them so many times. This is the kid that read everything that had to do with sci-fi, magic, monsters, grand heroes and terrifying villains. This is the kid that bounced between comic books by the dozen, and books for college students and up like it was nothing. As for the need - why read it when you can live it?

#rambling orion #leverage #eliot spencer #alec hardison #parker #nate ford #sophie devereaux #I'm sorry this took so long! And probably only half answered your question ^^'#but it was fun to think about! and I hope the answer works!#if I can get my head around it #I'll see what I can do about the Librarian's too #long post #Anonymous

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trustonlylokiposts-blog · 5 years

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Diagnosis

“THAT’S IT. I’M DONE. NOT ONCE HAVE I EVER BEEN TREATED WITH SUCH DISRESPECT! I AM A DOCTOR, GODDAMIT, IF YOU TRULY BELIEVE THAT BECAUSE I AM A WOMEN I CAN’T POSSIBLY DO MY JOB CORRECTLY THE I’M OUT. I QUIT. FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO DEAL WITH YOUR SHIT!” I cursed and stormed out slamming the office door behind me. Fuming I walked to my locker, then to my tiny office. Shoved what little things I had into my backpack and stomped out of the clinic, not making eye contact with anybody.

If Doctor Wallis truly believed that I should continue cleaning up after patients like a housekeeper, and that my medical opinion truly meant nothing because of my gender than I am better off literally anywhere else. New York, land of opportunity my ass. I honestly don’t know how I managed to graduate top of my class, blow away residency, be labeled as a prodigy doctor and somehow manage in a clinic run by a senile asshole who should have his medical license removed and burned. I marched through the streets of the busy city and stopped to glare at my reflection on a shiny building. My brown hair fell past my hair in messy waves, blue eyes had never been colder, and my cheeks were still red from anger and humiliation. I smoothed my green scrubs and tore off my ID card, no use for it anymore. I sighed as the anger slowly left my body, I took my phone out of my pocket and rolled my eyes at the absolute disaster of panicked texts I had.

Please tell me you didn’t quit, look I know he’s an asshole, but we need you Jules.

I scoffed and typed back,

Thanks Tiff, unfortunately I didn’t spend all that time in medical school to be treated like I’m worthless. I’m glad you enjoy your job, he respects women as nurses, but not as fellow physicians.

I made my way into a nearby coffee shop and ordered the tastiest, most sugar infused drink I could find on the menu, I deserved it anyway. I took a sip and took a deep breath as I sat down near a window. Looks like I’d need to find a new job, I’m sure it shouldn’t be too hard right? New York needs a lot of fresh young doctors.. Right? I pulled my laptop out of my pack and began the hunt; after about an hour of mindless reading I stumbled upon something that caught my eye.

Stark Industries, in need of capable physician, willing to work in critical situations, must be able to keep up and learn alien or godly physiology, will be working with The Avengers as their personal doctor and will be in charge of a small medical team for Stark Industries.

Huh. I clicked on the link and began reading more on the job description: Will be kept up to date on information regarding Tony Starks Arc Reactor and how to handle possible emergency situations regarding said reactor. Information on alien or godly medicine will be provided by Thor, of Asgard, but it is necessary to be willing to be learning and growing and developing better emergency care and medicine, for humans or otherwise. Offering up to 500k yearly salary with paid time off, provided living, transportation, and medical equipment and tools all at your personal disposal. Your team of nurses and Physician’s Assistant are at the top of their game and are an excellent team. Please call the number listed bellow for a pre-interview with Pepper Potts.

Okay, this sounds way too good to be true, and the competition for a job like this has to be outrageous. But the hell with it, what do I have to loose? I downed the rest of my diabetes in a cup and packed my laptop and made my way out. I hailed a taxi, gave directions to my apartment and immediately dialed the number listed on the add.

After a surprisingly thorough phone call I hung up and checked the call time, 45 minutes. I was asked all kinds of questions, regarding my schooling, residency, experience, I gave 10 different refences, and even answered questions from a “if everything were to go wrong” scenario. ( Question one: In the event that you are asked to accompany the Avengers on a mission across seas, are you capable of working in extremely critical circumstances that could be dancing on the line of life or death for countless people, should the Avengers be too injured to neutralize a threat?) I’ve definitely been through some stressful shit, when that Loki guy sent his army through New York? I was providing emergency medicine until I could no longer feel my brain, I’m pretty sure after hour 10 of almost non-stop work my soul left my body to be replaced by Jesus, I sure as hell let him take the wheel. Unfortunately I was never one to believe in Jesus, especially after all this super-human chaos has been happening. Clearly Jesus isn’t the only magical white guy dancing around in the clouds. My train of thought was interrupted as I was greeted by Koda, and tall and lean Belgian Malinois. Her fawn coat and black mask only made her golden eyes see through your soul even easier. I got Koda as a puppy from a guy off Craigslist, apparently even though he boasted about being an unstoppable adult his mother thought otherwise and forced him to rehome his impulse buy puppy. I wasn’t mad about it, Koda has done wonders for keeping me grounded. Sometimes I think she’s smarter than most humans. I know every pet owner says that, but I really believe it. Especially after all the shit-brain assholes I’ve seen stumble into the clinic because they “accidentally” fell onto a broom stick and somehow managed to lodge itself up their anus. I gave Koda appreciative ear scratches as I opened my calendar, I marked down the time for my interview, two days from now at 10 AM. Stark Tower, feeling oddly optimistic towards the future I changed into a black tank top and running shorts, leashed Koda up, and made my way outside for a run.

I lived in a tiny apartment, it looked more like a concrete box than anything else, but the upside and pretty much it’s only saving grace was that it was near central park. I never considered myself much of a city person, and central park was the closest thing I could get to anything nature. Koda and I lapped around the park, I considered what it meant to be “Kept up to date on Asgardian physiology” when I spoke with Miss Potts over the phone she said it wont be too difficult as Asgardians shared a lot in common with us Earth dwellers. She mentioned them having skin that is roughly “three times thicker and stronger” than ours. Okay, so apparently I’m going to need stronger surgical tools and needles if the time comes for any of that. Pepper also reassured me that Stark had it covered, they had been recently using a willing Asgardian to build and put together tools just for them when the time is needed. I wonder who they had volunteer? It couldn’t have been Thor, I guessed I’d find out soon enough anyway. I stopped jogging for a moment to appreciate the setting sun and take a drink of water before bending over to give Koda a drink. I started my run again, Stark’s reactor sounded very interesting and I did look forward to learning more about that. I haven’t seen anything even a little similar to that anywhere in medicine. Tony seemed to know what he was doing and had it under control anyway. I just wanted to understand what kind of shrapnel is constantly moving at an impossible speed towards his heart. And exactly how the reactor worked? Did it only prevent the shrapnel from moving further? Or did it also control how his heart functions? “Hey babe! Whatchu runnin from? I wont bite, or, maybe I will?” Great, who doesn’t love cat callers? Especially snot balls like this? I snuck a glance out of the corner of my eye as I kept my pace, pretending not to hear him. He started to follow after me, trying to act casual, I guess he didn’t notice Koda’s watchful gaze, oh yeah, another great thing about her would have to be the fact that I do have her trained in personal protection. Look, when you are a 5’5 petite women it doesn’t matter how much you exercise or how much knowledge of the human body and all the ways to heal it, or break it you have. Gross men with ill-intended ideas and thoughts look at you like you’re a piece of meat with perky tits and a pretty face. No amount of “Hey beautiful, Hey babe! Watchu up to?” Would ever work, especially when said cat caller looked like a walking STD. Hey, I don’t need to be nice to someone like him. Koda swiveled around to stand behind me and keep pace with me while she herself trotted backwards, amber eyes never once leaving the slimy man behind us. “Beautiful, what a pretty dog you have. Smart too, is that a German Shepherd? I had one growin’ up, loyal things aint they?” I said nothing and continued my jog, I now had to take a huge detour to my apartment. Couldn’t have him knowing where I lived, hell no. Slime ball caught up to me, Koda came to a grinding halt and placed herself between me and the stranger. I finally looked at him directly and with as level of a voice I could muster said “I’m not interested. Please leave me alone.” The man gave me a yellow toothy grin and replied “Is your dog friendly? I’m just wantin’ to know about your dog there?” I sighed through my nose and calmly said, “no, she isn’t. Please leave.” I sized the man up, he wasn’t too tall, maybe 5’11, 200 pounds tops, and almost none of it was muscle. I muttered the sniff command to Koda, she titled her nose in the air, she was taught to smell for any kind of weapon, especially a gun. If she caught onto the scent she let out a lone whine, if not, she would keep quiet. I let out a sigh of relief that I hadn’t realized I had been holding in when Koda didn’t whine. Thank god, if need be Koda and I can take this guy down, or well, Koda could. Firmly I said “leave now, or I will have my dog defend me, she is a trained protection dog. She will bite at my command.” At my word Koda stiffened and pulled back her lips revealing 42 sizer-like teeth. The man scoffed but took a step back when Koda let a low growl rumble from her chest, “Okay, bitch. Message received. Must be a fuckin’ lesbian or somethin’.” He turned and walked away and I made my way back home, both Koda and I on high-alert. Fucking cities, man.

#loki #loki x original female character #avengers fic

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carumens · 5 years

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expand your literature friday nº1

Author: Ana María Matute

Notable works: Pequeño Teatro (1954), Luciérnagas, eng. Fireflies (1955), Los Hijos Muertos, eng. The Dead Sons (1958), Olvidado Rey Gudú, eng. Forgotten King Gudú (1996).

Obviously, whole theses and analysis could be written about this amazing writer and her work. There will be loads of thing about Los Abel that I would love you guys to know, but that I can’t just include in a Tumblr post. Hopefully, this will be interesting enough to you!

*WARNING. The book I’m going to be talking about has never been translated, so all the quotes and excerpts below have been translated by me.

So, without further ado, proceed and enjoy!

Brief Introduction

Ana María Matute (1925 - 2014) was a Spanish writer and member of the Real Academia Española, which, summing it up, is the insttution that regulates the Spanish language in Spain. It’s a great honor to be a member of the RAE, and she was the third woman in the history of this institution to be conceded a seat in it. She is considered one of the most personal and raw voices of the 20th century in Spanish literature, and one of the best posguerra (which is the period following the Spanish Civil War) novelists. She wrote novels, short stories, children tales and essays. She was considered in 1976 for the Nobel Literature Prize and won numerous literature prices, among which was the Premio Cervantes, the most prestigious literature prize in the Spanish language.

Matute was a professor at university, and she traveled to many cities to give lectures, especially to the US. In her speeches, she talks about emotional changes, the constant changes of the human being and how innocence is never cmpletely lost. She said that although her body was old, her heart was still young.

Here is a small article by The New York Times, published some days after her death in 2014, that contains some more info about her biography and career.

Style

Matute deals with many political, social and moral aspects of Spain during the post-war period. Her prose is lyrical and practical, and she incorporates techniques associated with modernism and surrealism. However, Matute is considered a realist writer. Many of her books deal with the period of life ranging from childhood to adolescence to adulthood.

Matute uses, as a primary resource, pessimism, which, in her novels, often manifests in the form of alienation, hypocrisy, demoralization and malice. About her work, it is said that although the arguments of each of her novels are independent, they are all united by the general theme of Civil War and the portrait of a society dominated by materialism and self-interest.

Also, during the 1940s in Spain, a new literary aesthetic, which came to be known with the name of tremendismo, was born. The main aesthetic features of tremendismo revolve around the experiences of authors during the Civil War, and the misery and insecurity that were characteristic of post-war Spain. Tremendismo is heavily based on pessimistic, determinist and fatalist philosophies; it shows the darkest aspects of life, such as failure and death, and relates them to existentialism. Protagonists of novels belonging to tremendismo are usually marginal beings from the lowest layers of society, with primitive minds and without spiritual values or sensitivity. They often commit errors that lead them to tragic consequences, but they can’t be blamed because it is society that leads them to act that certain way. In this way, the worst part of human beings, highlited by an unfair society, is shown.

Los Abel

“I have arrived and nobody waits for me, because I have not warned anyone and I do not know anyone. It is difficult to define contours. The town, sunk in the bottom of the valley, is a ghost of violet lividness: like an unfortunate overcrowding of half-ruined hovels.”

Los Abel (1948) was Ana María Matute's first published novel and is, to this day, basically unknown. “Why are you going to talk about a novel that is not even considered her most relevant work?” you may ask. Well, simply because I love it, and it was a major inspiration for both my first poemary and my current WIP, Sunflowers at Night. The publication of this work was considered a literary revelation, a fact that would be confirmed in the successive works presented by its author.

Ana María Matute wrote Los Abel, a work that obtained a brilliant classification in the 1945 Premio Nadal, at the young age of 21. Inspired by the biblical story of Adam and Eve, a reflection of the enviroment after civil strife, it’s the dark story of a family living sad and tormented lives, very few of which escape the climate of anguish and exhaustion. Matute manages to create a tense, passionate and even feral atmosphere.

Plot *(WARNING. Spoilers ahead.)

The story is told in the first person by two different characters. The narrator in chapters I-IV is a young man who returns to a town he visited with his mother when he was a child. In these chapters he remembers his first encounter with the Abel family and then describes the town and the people who live there during his visit. The man rents the old house of the aforementioned family and there he finds the diary of Valba Abel, one of the sisters who lived there. So, the second narrator is Valba, or more precisely, chapters V-XXIX represent her personal diary in which she tells the sad story of her family.

This story takes place in a post-war rural landscape, where the family, formed by the father and his seven children: Oswaldo, Augusto, Tito, Valbanera, Juan Nepomuceno, Octavio and Ovidia — who prefer to be called by the nicknames Aldo, Gus, Tito, Valba, Juan, Tavi and the youngest simply, the Small One — all with very different personalities. Their mother has died and the father tries to maintain the unity of the family, using their land and house for that. However, life in a poor monotonous rural area is not enough for young people who show different abilities and have their own interests. Only the older brother, Aldo, is interested in cultivating the land and continuing with the traditional life of their parents: the other siblings want to escape from the village and live in the city.

After some gray and depressive winters, the children leave, one after the other, the orchard of their father, and move to the city. There they try to start new and different lifes, but their destiny takes them back to the village, where two of the brothers, Aldo and Tito, different as day and night, have such serious problems with each other that the first kills the second.

The protagonist

Valba is the representation of the rare girl, a very common protagonist in female post-war novels, who has a lonely character, looks unfeminine to other women and who is looking for her own identity. But in addition to the features that are typical to the rare girl trope, Matute adds to Valba a kind of darkness and depth. The town doctor describes her with the following words: "What deep eyes: a whole world enclosed within. To tell you the truth, I have never seen a look like that. Only sometimes do beggars in ditches have that look, or the hungry. And she looked like a child, with her indecisive hands. She had wolf teeth, hurtful as little daggers.”

After the death of her mother, Valba has to leave her studies in the city and return home, where she has difficulty finding her place among her brothers. She often feels redundant, without a way out and guilty that she lets her life go by without really living it, repeating phrases like: "I felt ridiculous, useless, small" and "I'm tired of not living." Even though she doesn’t like her sitaution, she doesn’t really try to make it better, thus acquiring a typical property of the protagonists in tremendismo.

The few moments of joy in Valba's diary are related to love or with the hope that she would find love. The romantic story with Galo, an artist in the city, offers hope for a happy ending but becomes a failure that destroys Valba's soul and eliminates her optimism for a better future- She feels indifference towards life: "How many hours still extending before me! It is possible that I will still live for many years; what a great tedium youth is, how a great tedium, a whole life still to be traveled, to drag behind me! " Valba also loses the ability to see love as something pure and beautiful: "I was like the top of a mountain. If I ever loved again, my feeling would drag a chorus of ridicule and parodies."

The violent and extreme situations are typical of tremendismo. In the case of Los Abel it’s not so much about violence as it is about death and intense moments forming a continuous chain during the story. Valba's narrative begins with the death of her mother who leaves her husband and seven children behind, some of them very young, who have to grow up under the harsh guidance of their father. To this event follows the death of the village’s teacher and although no one really cries for him, it is an adversity for the people. Later, Juan gets sick and ends up crippled. Then, when the littlest sister is preparing for her First Communion, the church is burned. A flood follows the fire: the river rises on its banks and threatens to take the house of the Abel with him. But the house, the strongest link in the family, continues in its place, at the foot of the mountains. In these mountains, Valba's father loses his life later on, and this event marks the beginning of the last chapter of the Abel family. Afterwards, there is no unifying force and the brothers who have remained in the village leave their home one after the other.

Matute completes the book with a violent ending. As we mentioned, Aldo, the eldest brother kills Tito, the luckiest brother of the seven. This crime is caused by years of envy and anger that have been growing inside Aldo. When he gets home and sees that Tito, whom his wife loves, is doing successful restructuring in the land of their parents, he can’t tolerate the injustice and shoots him. With this event, Matute uses for the first time the symbol of the Cainism, the known crime of the Bible, very frequent in her later works.

And so, the novel ends with this sublime piece of writing I felt the necessity to share with you guys:

“The two thunderous shots resounded, much more than the whole storm of our flood. The walls trembled and a thousand cries creaked on the stairs. The two bullets sank into that golden flesh, into that chest that always breathed rhythmically. But what revenge was that? What revenge ...? My God, Tito was youth! And I fell to my knees, and with that blood of his that was already sliding between the joints of the mosaics, I wet my face, as if it were a caress.

This is what I read."

And...

I really hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! If you guys have any questions, please ask me!!!

Leave me your comments and opinions too!

tagging: @katabasiss @hepiit @medusaswrites @quartzses @the-idiot-who-lose-you @writeblrs @esoteric-eclectic-eccentric @leopardsnake-stories

#literaturedaily #dailylit #dailynovels #spanish literature #ana maria matute #expand your literature fridays #eylf #i hope u guys find this interesting #i know its long sorry #i summed it up as much as i could #lqfihioewahvlfki.#hit me up when you read it please!!!!

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essiefreds · 6 years

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… so… this may or may not be a thing? We’re gonna see how people respond to it, I guess, and then maybe it’ll continue as a series?

I don’t expect it to go well, because uh, I don’t have any idea how to write Steve Rogers as a character, and I feel as though there are some topics that could arise in this series that I might not know how to handle, so…

(It’s a thing):

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22

Word Count: 2147

Tagged (if you’d like to be added to this list, btw, just send me a message and let me know!): @hotemotionalmess

“We need you to talk to him.“

You blinked at Nick Fury. Not only had you never been addressed directly by the head of SHIELD, you had never been in the same room as him. Now, here he was, standing in front of you, his arms hanging by his side, and a sincere expression on his face.

"Uh… wait,” you said, deciding that it made sense to clear up this request he was bestowing on you before simply agreeing. After all, just because he was Director Fury didn’t mean that you were going to do everything he said.

Especially something like this.

“So… you want me to… befriend the man who has been trapped in ice for seventy years, in the hopes that… what? He’ll… decide to join society?"

Fury lifted his shoulders. "Basically.”

“And why me?” you queried, frowning.

“You have a way,” Fury said, as though that answered your question in the slightest. “Anyway, the sooner you can figure it out, the better, because we need him to, uh, not consider anything other than rejoining society.”

You did not have to ask him to elaborate on what he meant by that. Your experience with war veterans gave you a pretty solid understanding on the euphemisms of suicide.

“All right,” you said, carefully, “but… if I don’t manage to get him to like me, then what?"

"Well, we’re not incredibly worried about him,” the Director of SHIELD responded, “but we know that he must feel very lonely, and rather helpless. We’re not positive that he’ll accept you as a friend, but we also don’t think he’ll flat-out deny someone wanting to help him integrate back into society.” He offered you an expression that might have been reassuring, had he been anyone other than Nick Fury. “You’ll do fine.”

Again, he hadn’t answered your question, but hey, what were you supposed to do about it? He was your boss, after all.

You’d joined SHIELD after an invitation had reached you in your tiny apartment in New York, which you rented through the funding you received from your job at the hospital as a receptionist. Although no one had ever told you how they’d figured out who you were, and what you did, you thought that you’d adjusted well to your position in SHIELD. Handling panicking people was something you were good at, and, more often than not, there was a panicking person, or group of people, for you to deal with on a regular basis.

Aside from that, however, you were also extremely good at helping people who’d been through hell and had somehow gotten out of it, only to continue to be faced with it in their daily lives through nightmares and panic attacks. It was a skill you’d developed through extreme sensitivity that your mother often called psychic, and through your work with war veterans that passed through the hospital. You’d also created a group for them, at the nearby retirement community, where many were spending the remainder of their lives.

It was because of this, you supposed, that Nick Fury had approached you to help with Steve Rogers, who’d recently been unearthed like a fossil or something. Although you’d never been one to read comic books, you knew who he was, who he had been, at any rate.

You did not ask, but you wondered if Director Fury hoped to bring back who Steve Rogers had been, although for what purpose, you did not know. A back-up plan, in case aliens tried to take over the Earth, or something.

Even with your experience, however, you did not have any idea how to handle a ninety-year-old man who looked and had the physicality of a twenty-year-old, especially one who had at one moment been in the 1940’s, and in the next had been thrown into the 21st century.

It was going to be something new.

“He’s been living in a facility that we’ve created to model the 1940’s,” Fury told you as he led you down one of the many hallways of one of the buildings that SHIELD owned. “We meant for it to help him adjust to what’s happened, but I don’t know how well it’s worked."

"Right,” you said. Your mind was reeling. You’d put yourself into the shoes of many victims of trauma, but never before had you had to help someone who had been asleep for seventy years adjust to the new life that they were suddenly faced with. So much had changed since the ‘40’s, so many things, in fact, that you doubted you’d be able to think of them all, in order to help him adjust.

Again, you weren’t positive that this was going to go well.

It was too late, however, to back out. Fury would not have come to you, specifically, if he did not think you had at least some chance of making this work.

You supposed that out of many of your coworkers, you did have the best chance.

Still.

Director Fury paused outside a door down a bland hallway, and nodded to it. “We’ve had people check on him every hour or so since he defrosted, but he hasn’t been the most responsive to them,” he said. “So, first thing’s first -”

“Get him to respond to me,” you concluded. Fury dipped his head. You exhaled, and faced the door. “Sure. I can do this.”

“Good attitude,” Fury praised, and then he patted you on the shoulder. “And good luck.”

You nodded, and listened as he walked away. He did not leave the hallway entirely, you noticed.

After taking a moment to center yourself, to calm your thoughts, you lifted your fist, and knocked politely on the door.

You were incredibly surprised when, after a minute, it opened from the other side.

Holy shit this man’s arms are the size of tree trunks.

So, needless to say, your first impression of Captain Steve Rogers was probably not the most profound.

Luckily, you were good at pulling yourself together, and you quickly held out your hand towards the gorgeous figure that had opened the door.

“Hello, Captain Rogers,” you said, offering a smile. “My name is Y/N.”

The moment you knew that helping Steve Rogers would be a wonderful experience was when he shook your hand, and said, “Pleasure to meet you, ma'am.”

You were almost positive you stood there, holding his hand and blinking at him like an idiot for at least two minutes, but he did not seem bothered. In fact, if anything, he seemed amused, especially when you finally realized that it was time to let go of his hand, and quickly dropped your own to your side.

“I just… I’d heard that you were… well, here, and I wanted to know how you’re doing,” you said, hoping that you didn’t sound too much like you were stammering. “I mean, I don’t have any clue what it must be like for you, obviously, but I’d like to understand, so that I can help you in anyway I can.”

Captain Rogers’s amused expression faded, and he tilted his head, moving slightly so that he blocked the entrance way to his living space. “You don’t need to lie to me, ma'am,” he said, and you furrowed your brows, slightly. “I know that I’ve been causing troubles for the nice people of SHIELD, and that they want me to get a move on with reentering the world. It doesn’t need to be sugar coated for me.”

Okay. So, he understands that he needs to reinsert himself. That’s a good start.

“That’s true,” you said, calmly smiling once more, “but, like I said, I’m here to help you with that. I’m not just another person who’s been sent to check on you, make sure you’re trying. I’m here to help you try.” You paused, and then tilted your head, mimicking him. “Could I come in?"

When he did not reply, immediately, you gestured down the hall. "Or you could come out, instead. We could go get something to eat?"

"No,” he said, almost immediately, and you lifted an eyebrow. “Here’s fine. Come in, please.” He stepped out of the way of the door, and you sidled past him into the living space on the other side, already knowing that you had plenty of work to do.

The living space was the same size of a small apartment. In fact, it was bigger than the apartment that you’d been living in, actually. There was a bedroom, with a bathroom attached, and a small kitchen that was in the same space a a living room of sorts. Looking at the furniture, including the TV and kitchen appliances, you saw that SHIELD had done everything it could to give Captain Rogers a 1940’s feel.

The TV was a boxy, clunky thing. Next to the ragged looking couch was a square side table, on which sat a boxy radio. The lamp in the corner of the room had a very ugly shade on it. The carpet was atrocious, as was the tile in the kitchen. The appliances themselves were green.

“They wanted it to feel like I was at home,” Captain Rogers said from behind you, seeing that you’d paused to take everything in. “It was nice of them."

"Yeah, definitely,” you agreed, turning to watch him as he entered the kitchen, and opened the outdated fridge. You were honestly surprised that these things worked. He looked at you.

“Would you like some water? It’s all I have."

"Sure,” you said. “Thank you.”

You moved to sit down on the couch, and winced as a stray spring immediately dug up into your ass cheek. They couldn’t have given him at least a slightly comfortable couch? The radio was on, although it was only buzzing, softly; no music came from its single speaker.

When Captain Rogers joined you, holding a glass of water, you nodded towards the radio, taking the glass from him. “No music?"

He managed a small smile, one that looked almost sheepish. "I don’t really like the music that you have here,” he explained.

“Oh,” you said. Obviously. “But, you like background noise?"

"Sorry.” He immediately moved to turn the radio off, with the same ease you’d use to turn off a cell phone. “I just - it’s something that’s at least sort of similar to how the radio was. Static.”

You took a sip of your water, wondering how hard it would be to find a record player and some vinyls with ‘40’s music on them. After a period of time, you realized that Captain Rogers had not joined you on the couch, and you looked up at him.

“Are you… not sitting down for a reason?"

He let out a chuckle that sounded a bit forced. "It’s a small sofa,” he said, gesturing to it.

Confused, but deciding to let him do what was most comfortable, you set the glass of water down on the table that the radio sat on, and looked at him. “So,” you began, “talk to me, Captain."

"About what, ma'am?"

"About you,” you said, gesturing. You smiled. “And I don’t mean Captain America. I mean you. Who is Steven Rogers? What was his life like?"

For a moment, he was silent, and you wondered, briefly, if he didn’t quite understand why you wanted to know about him.

Before you could say anything else, however, he spoke: "Was."

You frowned, a little. "Was?"

"You said, "What was his life like?”,“ he explained, his eyes trained on the floor. "Everyone else always talks in the present tense."

You forced your shoulders to relax. This wasn’t going the way you’d hoped it would, so far, but you decided to just… stick with it. "Well, there’s really no sense in living in the past, is there?” you asked him. “I mean, you’re here now, and although there’s plenty of things from your old life that you can keep with you, and you can even be the same Steve Rogers that you were… there’s also things that you’re going to have to accept, and the fact that you’re in the 21st century is one of them."

His gaze lifted, and met yours. God, his eyes were blue. "Easier said than done, don’t you think?"

"Most things are,” you replied, easily. “And besides, you don’t have to do it alone, now.” You grinned at him. “I’m here to help.”

A moment of silence passed. For a scarily long second, you thought that maybe he was going to tell you to leave.

Instead, he smiled back. “It is always easier doing something with a little help,” he admitted. “That’s something I’ve come to learn, anyway.”

You relaxed for real, this time. “Good,” you said. “Glad we can agree on that, at least.” You crossed your legs at the knee. “So, Captain -” you started, again. “What was your life like?”

#drabble #steve rogers drabble #marvel drabble #step by step #writing #steve rogers #nick fury #marvel #i don't know if this is actually gonna happen but #tentative #steve rogers x reader #reader x steve rogers #history has its eyes on queue

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wario-where · 6 years

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WW Meta: character reactions to being “on the outside”

( Never would i ever have imagined myself one day typing “warioware meta”, & i know no one asked for this, but... if you find this kind of stuff as interesting as i do, i hope you enjoy :’) )

It occurred to me that each of the characters in the WarioWare series could be examined separately as a different reaction to being an “outsider”, and so I wanted to write about it and share! As the series is in itself a celebration of the strange, it prides on being different from the rest. But that doesn’t make the developers invulnerable to their own unique circumstances! This is a long post altogether, but a few short character pieces underneath the readmore.

This post makes a lot of references to the WarioWare MMG Developer Diaries, which can be found here!

Wario: Selfishness

With his trademark abrasive personality, Wario lives his life with seemingly little regard for his friends -- or for anyone but himself. He refers to himself with the overly grandiose “ore-sama” personal pronoun and continually neglects to pay his employees with every new game in the Ware series.

But it’s well-established in the Mario universe that, as a child, Wario was jealous of the attention that his better-known counterpart got, thus driving him into the antagonist role of early games in the Mario series. Wario reacts to being othered with greed & a dogged pursuit of self-service, doing most things in furtherance of his own selfish goals... possibly stemming from a belief that if he does not fight for his own wants in life, then no one else will:

“While I was away crusading against the mystery alien Tatanga in Sarasa Land, an evil creep took over my castle and put the people of Mario Land under his control with a magic spell. This intruder goes by the name of Wario. He has been jealous of my popularity ever since we were boys, and has tried to steal my castle many times.”

- Super Mario Land 2: 6 Golden Coins English manual, pg 3

WarioWare takes place far after this time in his life, as he seems to have settled down in Diamond City & no longer appears to be preoccupied with antagonizing Mario like he used to. Despite this, he has remained greedy and self-serving in most respects.

Mona: Adaptability

Mona is strange. She has an odd sense of humor, an obsession with nose fortune telling, and a fascination with such unsavory characters as Wario. Despite this, she is also a part-time pop star and cheerleader, has an active & healthy social life, and is unafraid of speaking what is on her mind.

As comfortable with herself and outwardly confident as she is, Mona is a perfect example of adaptability. She knows she’s “different”, but she’s versatile enough to blend in with a wide variety of people and social situations and, for all intents and purposes, lead a (somewhat) average teenage life.

Of note about Mona is her tendency to include as many people as she can in things that she finds fun or exciting, especially those in need of friends. One of my favorite illustrations of this is from the Japanese Smooth Moves diaries, where she commiserates with Ashley over not seeing their parents often, and even invites her to hang out:

“My mama is always away from home because of her work, so I sorta understand how Ashley feels. Don’t hesitate to come and visit me when you’re lonely!”

In Gold, she continues this trend by inviting her old friend & classic boss Joe to a party she is hosting with her friends. Those who make a point to include others like Mona does in the things that they do often understand what it’s like to be excluded...

Jimmy: Nostalgia

Jimmy is entirely unique as an “outsider”, because that status is not with respect to society itself, but to the past & his own youth.

Though Jimmy is generally placed around the same age as his childhood friend, Wario (~25-26), some of his mannerisms suggest that he still views himself as a younger man. He remains as hip on new trends as possible, embracing email and text messaging and enthusiastically encouraging his coworkers to follow suit. His most jealously guarded secret is implied to be that his large, expressive afro is actually a wig, possibly meaning that he is either losing hair or keeps his natural hair short to make way for the more obnoxious blue ‘do.

His appearance & preferred style of dance are distinctively 70′s, and in his diaries, Jimmy uses the pronoun “boku” to refer to himself, a pronoun usually reserved for use by teenagers and younger men aged ~14 to ~21. He enjoys disco and spends entire days at Club Sugar, dancing away the day with seemingly no other cares in the world, much like a younger, less mature man would.

Jimmy does a lot to preserve an air of youthful vitality, but while he does it, he lives in the past. In the end, though, he seems happy with this lifestyle... as does his entire family!

Dribble & Spitz: Observation

Both Dribble & Spitz’s stages & developer diaries revolve almost completely around one facet of their lives: their taxi-driving. The people they meet while on their shift, the places they end up, the strange things that happen on the road… on a typical day, the rest of the world passes by their taxi window.

I think the most interesting things come into play when considering the two individually, though. Of the duo, Spitz seems most content with this lifestyle. Symbolically he has a fascination with outer space, where the only action available to do is to observe, to people-watch. And in one of his more illustrative entries, Spitz views the Earth from space for the first time and is so struck by the planet’s beauty -- and the constant movement of the people inhabiting it -- he begins to cry:

From outer space, the Earth looks perfectly round, beautiful… Thinkin’ about how on the Earth, there was always somethin’ somewhere hastily at work, I couldn’t do anything but cry a few tears… What could I say?

A little more restless than his companion, Dribble talks frequently about wanting to take vacations from work to engage with the people around him in social events. Despite this, he finds entertainment in being an observer, particularly from passengers with strange stories, foremost of those being the frequent misadventures of Dr. Crygor.

Dr. Crygor: Independence

Speaking of! The eccentric doctor lives on an island in the middle of the ocean. From there, he does as he wishes, caring little about the opinions of others and pursuing his unconventional scientific endeavors in peace.

Dr. Crygor is aware that he is a uniquely scientific thinker and has experience with people disbelieving in his out-of-the-box theories and observations, apparently even from childhood. Nonetheless, he cares very little about what other people think of his lifestyle, choosing instead to trust in his own intellect and find answers by scientific means:

Long ago, yes, when I was a 10-year-old child, I discovered this fact, and I reported it to my friends with excitement, but no one could believe it. However, I studied with various gums, and I remember reporting the research results to my friends, and them finally believing me. From that moment on, I aimed to become a researcher…

On his island, Dr. Crygor is free to be as he is and perform as many scientific experiments as he pleases, free from the constraints of societal norm -- whatever that may be in the WarioWare universe. Though he is aware he is an outsider, he could care less. He takes advantage of his freedom to take his eccentricity to extremes -- because he can, and because it is suitable for his work.

Kat & Ana: Obliviousness

Like most young children, Kat & Ana are much too young to have any conception of the world’s social norms. The vast majority of their diary entries revolve around their interactions with those in their immediate friend circle and with each other, with very little attention to the world beyond that. They are certainly different from other kids their age, but they are also entirely unaware of it. So, how can one respond to being an outsider if one has no idea that they are one? :’)

Ashley: Self-Sabotage

Of all the characters listed here, it’s Ashley who is the most destructive in her approach to her outsider status -- because she creates it herself. In fact, many of her most common behaviors seem tailor-made to keep people at arm’s-length.

Ashley stands intentionally on the outside of groups, rarely smiles, and struggles to express emotion besides anger and apathy. Her compliments are halfhearted and passive (“I guess”, “maybe”, “not bad”), while her insults towards the player after losing her games are direct and personal (“pathetic! abysmal! lame!”)! She is vain (“Everyone knows that I’m the greatest!”), has a short temper, and is occasionally very cruel towards even her closest friend, Red. She prides herself on others’ fear of her (“You should be afraid of the great Ashley!”) and defines herself by what she is in relation to her own superiority, and by what she is not in relation to other people (“She never plays with dolls and she never combs her hair / Who has time for girly things like that?”).

And yet in her unguarded moments, Ashley is aware of a side of her that desires friends and companionship. She appears to think about, if not miss, her absent parents. She blushes on the implication that she is enjoying her time at the potluck in Gold. And in yet another revealing moment in her Japanese diaries, in which Ashley tasks Red with writing her diary entry...:

“I'm Ashley's close friend, Red. I haven't told this to anyone, but Ashley is actually pretty lonely. While we were experimenting with magic by the riverbed, we saw a friendly family of apes. Then, Ashley seemed to be looking far away. I acted as though I hadn't noticed, but I know very well. She was probably thinking about her parents from her hometown. Ashley has more cuter characteristics than you may think!”

(https://www.mariowiki.com/Talk:Ashley_and_Red)

We see her trending away from this loneliness slowly, but surely!

Orbulon: Insecurity

Ironically, Orbulon sets himself up as an almost-perfect counterpoint to Ashley. While Ashley consciously builds up walls around herself to keep people out, Orbulon is continuously having to take down the walls others build around him.

In his diaries, Orbulon struggles greatly to communicate in earthen language, his writing riddled with syntactical errors. At a company barbecue, he claims to enjoy himself, not because he is having a good time, but because everyone else is. And notably, he mentions enjoying being around Mona, because “she does not treat me like an alien.”

In other entries, Orbulon is secretly insecure, caring a lot about what others think of him, especially with regards to his intelligence. When he is invited by 9 Volt to a friendly gaming tournament, he spends the entire night practicing playing video games, worried that it will reflect badly on him if he doesn’t win. In another (somewhat depressing) entry, Orbulon, in a bout of loneliness, makes multiple failed attempts to visit each of his coworkers, even at one point seeking out Dribble & Spitz’s taxi. Eventually, he is able to find Kat & Ana... but leaves shortly after, as he quickly becomes self-conscious when he senses that they are “acting strangely” because he is around. In the end, Orbulon ultimately goes back home to sleep instead.

Orbulon of the diaries is constantly thinking about himself in relation to the earth-folk around him, hoping to eventually belong... but it seems he eventually achieves it. :’)

9-Volt: Rebelliousness

9 Volt is known at his school as a troublesome kid. His name appears on the blackboard for time-out in Twisted, and his teacher even singles him out during 18 Volt’s classroom introduction! He is uninterested in his schoolwork and has to be bribed to complete it. And despite being very close to his mother, he does defy her by staying up late to play video games and hiding from her when she comes to check up on him in the night.

But outside of school, 9 Volt is not at all a bad kid. In fact, he is actually compassionate, intelligent, and -- like Mona -- also seems to have a tendency to want to include people who he sees on the outside. He is the only one to approach 18 Volt on his first day in class after their teacher scolds him; when he sees Orbulon walking home alone, he invited him over to his house; he frequently invites Kat & Ana over to play video games... and, perhaps sweetest of all, his “pet”, Fronk, is a rescue:

“A year ago, [Fronk] had been abandoned and I picked him up. I made a personal decision to make him my pet. What would I do without him?”

Clearly not a bad kid!

Baby Wario Screenshot Source: https://www.mariowiki.com/File:YIDS-Wario_Baby_Bowser_Argument.png

#don't @ me #i am not proud #hope you enjoyed :')#warioware #posting this at 1 am on a worknight so expecting to edit in the morning when i am. coherent.

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inkdoodles · 5 years

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This December, the weekend before Christmas, I made a flying 24 hour visit to Berlin. Berlin has so much to see that in that short period of time, one can only get a little taster. So I curated my own visit by making a small selection of sights to see, rather than trying in vain to do everything. I mainly concentrated on the 20th century, which means WWII and Cold War memorials.

As someone who studied architecture in the turn of the century and took not a few classes in Deconstructivism (or Decon), I had to visit two of the works I had read and been taught so much about, from two of the biggest names in Decon.

First up Daniel Libeskind’s Jewish Museum. I was so excited to see this building, as it had long been on my bucket list! Unfortunately the two top floors were closed for refurbishment, so I only got to see half of the building. Fortunately it was the most important half – for me at least.

If you visit museums for the actual exhibitions and contents, then the Libeskind building might not really hold you. The main exhibition spaces rich in contents are in the old building. However if you visit modern buildings for the experience, then you will love it. Libeskind’s Jewish Museum extension, is less a museum and more a memorial.

The building is a violent, jagged shape; it’s windows are slashes; the spaces are tall, narrow, inhuman; there are extremes of shadow and dark and sudden overly bright corridors. It is a perfect metaphor for the plight of the Jewish people.

Especially when visiting it in winter and having left your coat in the cloakroom, the added feeling of being cold in certain spaces helps you empathise even more.

There is no point analysing such a famous building. I will say though, that when I visited the museum was quite empty, so I managed to experience the Holocaust Tower in solitude. The space was cold, scary, alienating, spooky, especially after having got into the mind-space from reading the previous exhibits.

Similarly visiting the Garden of Exile, gave you a similar sort of lonely, lost feeling. Only this time you felt locked out and excluded, rather than locked away and abandoned.

Finally, the was the biggest and most poignant void space of the building, the Memory Void. The floor of which is filled by the installation Shalekhet (Fallen Leaves) by Israeli artist Menashe Kadishman. As you approach the space, long before you even know what you’ll find (unless you have studied and read up on the building like I had), you hear a strange clanging noise that is impossible to place or understand.

So you move towards the noise curious, and as you turn the corner you are faced with a sea of flat metal faces with open mouths in a tall jagged void of a space. The noise comes from the people walking over the faces. It is surprising poignant, walking over all those faces that look in anguish, shock, surprise.

After the strong emotions of the Libeskind building, the exhibition about Jerusalem I saw afterwards in the old building was a welcome come down.

To continue on the same theme, my next stop was Peter Eisenman’s Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. Being midwinter, and having spent so much time in the Jewish Museum, the light was fading by the time I got to the Memorial. So I visited in the cold grey light of impending dusk in winter.

Eisenman’s Memorial is another stark, unyielding space. A sea of concrete columns of varying heights being pushed almost violently out the ground. The regular grid of the columns’ layout is broken rarely and irregularly by gaps where one column is missing. That void is felt even more strongly in contrast to sea of presence of the other columns.

The columns are perfectly orthogonal and aggressive in their presence in space, yet their grid is set on a slight slant, creating a slight sense of unease. The ground is covered by cobblestones and is uneven and slightly wavy. The natural giving feel of the ground provides even more contrast with the strict almost logical and inhumane nature of the columns.

The whole area feels very much like a memorial, its illogicality and inhumanness perfectly capturing that of the Holocaust. It also feels a little like a cemetery. The regularity of the concrete columns, mirroring the regulaity of the tombstones in a military war cemetery.

It was a perfect place to visit after the Jewish Museum, and both places give a very strong image of a very brief and violent period in the history of Berlin, that has marked it so profoundly.

Berlin part 1: Contemporary architecture in memoriam of WWII – Daniel Libeskind & Peter Eisenman This December, the weekend before Christmas, I made a flying 24 hour visit to Berlin. Berlin has so much to see that in that short period of time, one can only get a little taster.

#architecture #Berlin #contemporary #daniel libeskind #decon #deconstructivism #germany #jewish museum #memorial #memorial for the murdered jews of europe #Museum #peter eisenman

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hillarykylie · 3 years

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Reflections on my life as a Student Entrepreneur

A year ago, I was in a deadly miserable place of my life where I was tormented and defeated by my adverse circumstances in Uni.

My entire first year of college was NOTHING like what I’d envisioned it to be, and it was certainly nothing remotely close to the idyllic college experience that everyone else had been trying to perpetuate. If anything, it was the opposite.

I felt like a huge misfit in my University’s social environment and I saw my life and potential diminishing right in front of my very eyes.

I went through hell - from having to deal with the onset of my physical illnesses and having to be hospitalised, my second suicide attempt, to being diagnosed with C-PTSD by the end of my first year and dealing with being underweight due to my Anorexia Nervosia spinning out of control throughout my first year.

Then came lockdown, where I was forced to completely re-evaluate and reinvent myself and my life. I was sick and tired of being defined in terms of the quality of my University Experience, but I was more so exhausted from perennially feeling like a victim in my circumstances.

Having to tear down my old belief systems, maladaptive coping mechanisms and work through some of my life’s biggest pains and hurdles was excruciating to say the least.

I knew I was destined for so much more - and even though University has been my biggest downfall and still is (and I don’t mean it in academic terms), I wanted to prove to myself and others that I was capable of turning my life around, from a place of pain and extreme dejection, alienation and discouragement to building something on my own from scratch.

In hindsight, even though the entire experience was a mental torture and affliction in and of itself, I truly believe that my first year has enabled me to build the grit and resilience I needed to push myself past my comfort zone and have the zeal and courage to do something somewhat unconventional, and to pursue a drastically unique path and journey.

Besides taking up new courses, utilizing my time wisely during the lengthy lockdown and building myself back up, I’d decided to start a new side project/side hustle.

But of course - as humans living in a dystopian world, I had little to no support from anyone when I first started on my journey!

I barely even knew where to begin, what to do, or how to even market or advertise my brand.

Virtually everyone was against my vision and my ideas, and were either sardonic, cynical or skeptical of it all.

“Why would you even think of starting a business during an economic recession and a pandemic, that’s a stupid idea”

“You should just focus on fitting in in Uni”

“There’re so many other successful businesses out there - what makes you think you’ll make it”

These were typically the spectrum of demeaning responses I’d get from people, which led me to eventually keep my business a secret from everyone and move in silence, until I was fully and completely determined that my success would speak for itself.

I’d also get disingenuous compliments and perfunctory remarks from people. It got to a point where it started leaving a considerable dent on my confidence.

Yet ironically, in retrospect - if I’d given into the maelstrom of conflicting remarks that people were inundating me with, it would be remiss to think that I would have gotten to be where I am today.

It was daunting to even take a leap of faith, and to learn how to walk on my journey as a lone wolf, and however tough it was and has been, I think I’ve learnt so much about people from my unsupportive and emotionally aloof environment and my own potential.

I was dire on establishing financial independence, but I never thought I’d be able to even come this far along on my journey or experienced an exponential growth in such a short span of time.

Although I wish I’d started earlier on my journey, being a young Entrepreneur at 19 is still pretty okay, I guess?

What initially began as an uncertain side hustle has now become my full-time passion and stream of passive income! And it didn’t happen overnight.

I finally hit my 5 figure income milestone; and as I’m writing this, I’ve finally reached my 260 sales milestone!

I think the biggest misconception that people have about entrepeneurship, especially being a student entrepreneur, is that it’s an always smooth-sailing and easy road - when it’s really not, sadly.

Just as with every path in life that involves delayed gratification, there are bound to be inevitable intricacies, difficulties and obstacles to be endured.

The endless sleepless nights; having to silence my self-doubt; feeling all alone in my business journey and in life; learning the technicalities of SEO; researching and the copious hours put into perfecting and reinventing your brand and label; web-designing; answering customer inquiries; handling disputes; building your own international clientele; juggling both University and business isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.

What’s important to acknowledge is that I run my business entirely on my own - I’m my own boss and CEO and I don’t have anyone else dispatching my orders, answering inquires or doing anything for me.

My store began building momentum in the beginning of October - I’d be getting an influx of orders on a daily basis, and my life oscillated between University and Business.

People at the post office knew of me and had now become aware of who I was - everything’d become increasingly overwhelming (albeit in a good and productive way) and I’d be lugging 3 bags of parcels nearly every visit to the PO to have them dispatched and delivered.

Things were selling out relatively quickly and I was getting a lot more international recognition from people in the industry and beyond. I was also receiving repeat businesses on a consistent basis.

Though on top of the lack of support from people around me, I DO want to emphasise that I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with other jealous business owners who tried to ruin and take me down.

People often perceive of my life and entrepreneurship as somewhat of an ‘easy’ journey and I just want to bluntly clarify that this is FARRR from the truth.

I’m juggling 2 prestigious degrees, and my entrepeneurship journey may differ invariably to that of a proper full-time entrepreneur - who has all the time and resources to fully devote his/her focus to their empire.

I also want to add that it’s completely okay to not have the support that you desire when you’re on your own business journey, or with any other journey in life really.

Not everyone wishes to see you thrive or succeed, but you mustn’t let that get to you, if you truly want to experience a breakthrough.

And if you’re currently struggling with your circumstances in University, always remember that your self-worth isn’t contingent upon how much ‘fun’ you’re having out of University.

There’re honestly a plethora of people out there who’re equally incredibly successful who didn’t necessarily have the “best time of their lives” in University either, and it’s okay.

I’ve taken my time in University into laying the groundwork and foundation for my future and I’m SO incredibly glad that I DID NOT give into my naysayers and destructive comments, or even allowed my first year to define me.

Yeah, the prospect of change and failure is scary.

But what’s scarier is staying put in the same place as you were a year ago, and it’s up to you to take that leap of faith, no matter how frightening and stomach-churning that may feel.

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othernecessarythings · 4 years

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back on my bullshit again

and once more!! if you happen to stumble across these posts of mine, please just ignore them.. they’re a way for me to reflect on my life (and improve my english), and while i can’t stop you from reading them, can i say that you probably wouldn’t benefit much from it lol. anyways let’s go

1) Put your iTunes on shuffle. Give me the first 6 songs that pop up.

my lots of songs list: the love club-lorde, river en vacker dröm-håkan hellström, living dead-marina, why we ever-hayley williams, snälla bli min-veronica maggio, take this lonely heart-nothing but thieves

2) If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

oof um the person who will be the love of my life? no lol but like zendaya would be pretty cool ig

3) Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

“... and the top was red-and-white striped, and it all zipped up in the front.”

4) What do you think about most?

hmm my friends maybe?

5) Ever had a poem or song written about you?

not that i know of

6) Do you have any strange phobias?

nah i feel some trypophobia (?spelling) sometimes but that’s it

7) What’s your religion?

i’m kinda christian, but like i choose which parts to believe in and not, like i believe in the message of doing good and love, but not like homophobia or an actual god lol

8) If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

sitting in the sun, listening to music

9) Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

ah probably paramore, yeah it must be them

10) What was the last lie you told?

eh kinda basic but “i’m fine” i guess

11) Do you believe in karma?

ooh that’s a questioning worth discussing, no i don’t believe in the actual the-universe-is-constantly-judging-our-actions, but like that people who do good tend to get good things back? yeah that makes sense

12) What does your URL mean?

my main (neon-places) is from perfect places by lorde, and just neon bc it sounds cool

13) What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

oh god if i only knew,,, i really need to improve my empathy, but my systematical skills are quite good

14) Who is your celebrity crush?

hayley williams

15) How do you vent your anger?

i don’t get mad😌😌 no but like when i get irritated do i just close my door to my room and like listen to music in headphones and solve a puzzle or something lol

16) Do you have a collection of anything?

i kinda collect things that mark an important/memorable event in my life, like my first pride bracelet, my favorite jeans from when i was like 15, lots of birthday cards,, yeah it’s not so unique, but they’re important to me

17) Are you happy with the person you’ve become?

yes!!!! me a few years ago would’ve never thought that i’d be like this now, but i’m proud of myself and what i’ve become!!

18) What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

fun fact i HATE sleeping to the sound of rain. it makes me really anxious,, i love the sound of waves though, or my little sisters pure laugh :,)

19) What’s your biggest “what if”?

what if i’m just faking everything, what if this is not actually me but something i put up to please others around me

20) Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

not ghosts really, but there must be some sort of life in the whole fucking space,, while maybe not what we traditionally would categorize as “life”, must it exist something, somewhere

21) Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

i’m in my bed so like. my nightstand to the right, my wall to the left

22) Smell the air. What do you smell?

absolutely nothing, i’m so used to the smell of my house

23) What’s the worst place you have ever been to?

oo idk??? i’m usually quite content with wherever we’re going, although fotografiska in stockholm was shitty though

24) Most attractive singer/s of your opposite gender?

oh um like tyler joseph maybe? gerard way, frank iero? yeah i’m an emo slut

25) To you, what is the meaning of life?

no don’t go there,, thereisnomeaningoflifesoitsallaboutmakingasmuchaspossibleandliveashappilyaspossiblyuntilourfleetingexistenceonthisearthisover

26) Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

.. yeah you could say that i drove, i have a driving license after all, and i’ve never crashed but i’ve been stopped by police a few times lol

27) What was the last movie you saw?

no idea, i never watch movies... or wait!! we had legally blonde on at my friends house a few days ago when we got home from a party, i didn’t exactly watch it but it was playing

28) What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

i’ve had some bad allergic reactions in form of severe eczema

29) Do you have any obsessions right now?

‘the devil and god are raging inside me’ by brand new, doing my makeup a special way

30) Ever had a rumor spread about you?

yeah, that i’m gay and together with my earlier best friend (we were not)

31) Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

not really,, i’m really fucking scared of conflicts so i simply forgive and move on, it’s easier that way

32) What is your astrological sign?

pisces baby

33) What’s the last thing you purchased?

a blue skirt second hand!! v cute

34) Love or lust?

um idk i’ve never really experienced any of them, but maybe love

35) In a relationship?

nope

36) How many relationships have you had?

a whopping amount of zero

37) What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

I DONT KNOW someone tell me please how to get someone to like me,, but like more friendship-like is it usually to always choose my words very carefully to not upset anyone, it usually gets me quite far

38) Where is your best friend?

where? i hope she’s home? well like we took the bus home together a few hours ago, so i guess she’s home

39) What were you doing last night at 12 AM?

aha ha funny,, i was having a small mental crisis so i sat and did math (by free will, school has ended for summer) while listening to melodrama.. yes

40) Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

i don’t know, this is so hard.. but like. no? or it wouldn’t really work to have someone like me as a close friend, i’m to introvert, i tend to surround myself with extroverts who bring me with them to do stuff

41) You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

oh um i call 112 (the swedish 911) and make sure someone else notice the dog too and help it while i hurry to my job

42) You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

a) yes, i think so. only my closest though, to give them a chance to say goodbye properly, but i wouldn’t really like other just acquaintances to reach out just bc of the circumstances

b) i try to travel as much as possible, party all i can, tell everyone i love how much they mean to me and just. live

c) of course, i would be scared to death (see what i did there) but i wouldn’t have any other choice but to fully live my last month

43) What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

hard times by paramore!! it always makes me want to dance

44) In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

45) How can I win your heart?

show any whatsoever interest in me lol

46) Can insanity bring on more creativity?

i guess,, i’m like the opposite of insanity though, i’m constantly numb and completely lacking any creativity, so it may work the other way too

47) What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

hmm maybe my school application? i’m so fucking happy with my choice

48) What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

hmm nothing too special i guess, just the usual loved and missed and so

49) Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word “heart.”

like the anatomy and stuff,,, i really like biology, more than romances lol

50) Basic question; what’s your favorite color/colors?

usually different shades of blue, but right now all pastel colors, especially purple

51) What is your current desktop picture?

my locked screen is two of my best friends, and my home screen is paramore ofc

52) If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

trump would be pretty nice

53) What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

oh um like “name a few things you don’t like about me” or something, bc as i said, i hate conflicts

54) You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

the ability to change the probability!!! it’s the ultimate superpower!!!

55) You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

my tøp concert maybe? i was really euphoric then, and i haven’t really felt like that since, but i’m afraid i’ll destroy that memory if i could go back so idk

56) You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

i’ve had quite a happy life yet, there’s no big thing i’d like to erase,, no i feel like every experience in my life has leaded me to where i am today, so i wouldn’t like to erase anything

57) You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

hmm idk maybe alex turner. idk i feel like it would be pretty nice

58) You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

italy maybe? my friends and i planned to go there this summer before the corona hit, so i’d like to go there lol

59) Ever been on a plane?

yeah several times

60) Give me your top 5 hottest celebrities.

idk idk i’m not really.. attracted to anyone rn? it’s kinda weird but there’s no one where i’m like wow this person is HOT,, nah i don’t really feel anything like that at the moment

#julias mind #just for my own sake #self development

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