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indecisiveavocado · 1 month ago

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What could Hamas have done if they didn't want Israel destroyed?

Summary: If not for their greed and embezzling, Hamas could have, single-handedly, provided every. Single. Gazan with bomb shelters, healthy food, clean water, and electricity (via batteries) for over two years. Details and sources below the cut.

Shelter

First, let's figure out the cost of a bomb shelter. Fortunately, we can get this information relatively easily, thanks to the Cold War. Admittedly, this is a nuclear bunker, but hey; if Israel takes the nuclear option, Gaza will be fine. I mean, not really, but you know, better to go overkill than underkill.

According to the Department of Defense (1962) a Belowground Corrugated Steel Culvert Shelter cost $150 in 1962. The BLS (2025) says that's worth $1589 or so as of January 2025. Technically the shelter fits three adults (or two adults and two children), but only for a few weeks, so I'm going to pretend like it has room for only one person and a lot of food and water.

OK. What's the installation cost? They say two days excavation and four days building, plus what I'm going to say is one day of transport.

The US Department of State (2023) says the average daily wage in Gaza was $15. We'll be nice and pay our workers $30, giving us a cost of $210 for the installation. So that's a total of almost exactly $1800 per person.

As an upper estimate on Gaza's population, I'll use the UNRWA, which claims 2.4 million residents (UNRWA, August 2023). Multiplying it out, we find that the cost to provide shelter to everyone in Gaza is $4.32 billion dollars.

Food

The World Food Program USA claims the average cost of a meal they provide is 50 cents (WFP USA, 2024). At three meals a day, this means the cost per day to feed 2.4 million people is $3.6 million, which works out to $2.635 billion to feed everyone in Gaza for two years.

This means our total cost for two years is $6.667 billion dollars.

Excellent!

Water

FEMA recommends having a gallon of water per person per day (FEMA; archived link used because FEMA is 'being updated to comply with President Trump's executive orders'. I have done similarly for all non-interactive government websites).

OK. What about water sources for Gaza? It is a desert, after all; you can't just expect water to magically appear.

The most likely water source would be desalinated water. One UNICEF project was $12 million in 2013, or $16.63 million in 2025 (BLS). It produced 6000 cubic meters per day. As one cubic meter is 1000 liters, that's 6 million liters a day of water. According to the WHO, 20 liters per person per day is the minimum recommended amount; this works out to 48 million liters per person per day. Meeting that demand would require only 8 plants. To store up a reasonable amount and include maintenance, I'll quadruple that number, for a total of $532.16 million in construction and maintenance costs. (No, I have no idea what it costs to maintain a desalinization plant in Gaza.)

Assuming we can save 48 million liters/day, it would take only, well, two years to save up two years' worth of water. So, our total for shelter, food and water is $7.19916 billion for two years' worth.

Lovely!

Electricity

Currently, Gaza imports natural gas. But hey, we're dreaming, and Gaza seems perfectly suited for solar power.

One source (who, if I'm recalling correctly, is now HR for Hamas) told NBC Gaza needed 500-600 megawatts a day (Abdelkader). I'm going to say 720 a day, or 30 megawatts an hour.

For my estimate of home electricity generation, I used a building I'm pretty sure was the Chabad of Ashkelon.

I tried to make the outline small, because this is a lower estimate. Regardless, I got a figure of 18.8 kilowatts/day. Since there are 1000 kilowatts in a megawatt, that's 720,000/18.8=38,297 buildings. Let's say 40,000 are needed to meet demand and 80,000 to double it.

According to the UN, if you do the math, 116,000 buildings are still standing in Gaza, so we should be good there.

Now, I am not an expert at batteries and electricity, but I'd assume there's some way to convert the energy of solar generators to the kinds of batteries you can put in storage and forget about.

So what would the installation cost of that be? NPR says $30,000 per house (Simon), which works out to $2.4 billion; surprisingly cheap! I'll add another half that to account for batteries, so $3.6 billion for electricity. Set it up in 2021 and everyone has two years' worth saved up.

So we have a total of a little over $10.7 billion for at least two years' worth of food, water, shelter, and electricity for everyone in Gaza. I'm going to round up and say $11 billion.

$11 billion is not a small amount.

But, unfortunately, neither is the amount Hamas has stolen:

$700 million stolen from aid according to Fatah, a Palestinian organization (Winer)

$100 million/year military budget (Issacharoff) in 2016. This works out to $900 billion since then.

I could add other ones of varying reliability, but I don't need to.

But the really big one? Their leaders. According to the Times of India, they were worth $11 billion.

That adds up to $12.6 billion dollars, more than enough to cover it.

And much of this would be, effectively, one-time costs! Of the $11 billion we estimated it would take, shelter's $4.32 billion is basically one-time only and the $2.4 billion solar cost is, too.

Works cited

Abdelkader, Rima. “Gaza Has Access to Less than 40% of the Energy It Needs. Locals Hope Solar Power Can Fill the Gap.” NBC News, 23 Aug. 2022, www.nbcnews.com/news/world/gaza-access-less-40-energy-needs-locals-hope-solar-power-can-fill-gap-rcna43723.

De Luce, Dan, and Lisa Cavazuti. “Most of Gaza Is Poor, but Hamas Has Cash. Where Does It Come From?” NBC News, 25 Oct. 2023, www.nbcnews.com/news/world/gaza-plagued-poverty-hamas-no-shortage-cash-come-rcna121099.

Department of Defense, Office of Civil Defense. Family Shelter Designs. Jan. 1962, pp. 19–20, dahp.wa.gov/sites/default/files/FamilyShelterDesigns.pdf.

FEMA. “Water.” Ready.gov, 2021, web.archive.org/web/20250201201522/ready.gov/water. Via Internet Archive.

Issacharoff, Avi. “Hamas Spends $100 Million a Year on Military Infrastructure.” Times of Israel, 8 Sept. 2016, www.timesofisrael.com/hamas-spends-100-million-a-year-on-military-infrastructure/.

Lipson, Nathan. “Tunnels of Cash and Cryptocurrency: Hamas’ Finances Explained.” Haaretz.com, Haaretz, 12 Dec. 2023, www.haaretz.com/middle-east-news/palestinians/2023-12-12/ty-article-magazine/.premium/tunnels-of-cash-and-cryptocurrency-hamas-finances-explained/0000018c-5d6f-de43-affd-fd6fcbb30000. Archive/unpaywalled link: https://archive.is/AfbPq.

National Renewable Energy Laboratory. “PVWatts Calculator.” NREL, 2019, pvwatts.nrel.gov/pvwatts.php.

Simon, Julia. “Why the U.S. Government Is Spending $7 Billion on Solar for Low-Income Homes.” NPR, 1 Aug. 2024, www.npr.org/2024/07/31/g-s1-8152/solar-for-all-epa-low-income-climate-change-solution.

TimesofIndia.com. “‘Hamas’s Top 3 Leaders Are Worth Staggering $11 Billion.’” The Times of India, Times Of India, 8 Nov. 2023, timesofindia.indiatimes.com/world/middle-east/israel-hamas-war-ismail-haniyeh-worth-moussa-abu-marzuk-khaled-mashal/articleshow/105055536.cms.

U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. “CPI Inflation Calculator.” U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, 2025, www.bls.gov/data/inflation_calculator.htm.

UN News. “‘This Is Our Land’ – Building Gaza’s Future from the Wreckage of War.” UN News, Mar. 2025, news.un.org/en/story/2025/03/1160661.

UNRWA. “Gaza Strip.” UNRWA, Aug. 2023, www.unrwa.org/where-we-work/gaza-strip.

US Department of State. “2023 Investment Climate Statements: West Bank and Gaza.” United States Department of State, 2023, www.state.gov/reports/2023-investment-climate-statements/west-bank-and-gaza/. Archive link: web.archive.org/web/20231011090250/https://www.state.gov/reports/2023-investment-climate-statements/west-bank-and-gaza/.

Winer, Stuart. “Fatah Official Accuses Hamas of Stealing $700m from Gazans.” Times of Israel, Oct. 2014, www.timesofisrael.com/fatah-official-accuses-hamas-of-stealing-700m-from-gazans/.

World Food Program USA. “Here Are 10 Facts on Hunger and WFP’s Work.” World Food Program USA, Nov. 2024, www.wfpusa.org/articles/10-quick-facts-hunger-wfps-work/.

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kkpwnall · 2 years ago

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if it wasn’t for bad luck i wouldn’t have luck at all

part two | rated t | 4k words [ part one ]

all my thanks and love for @fragilecapric0rnn for beta reading again. thanks for your help, and for kindly correcting my silly mistakes 💜

Eddie catches all the not-so-subtle winks Dustin throws him every time one of the kids wheedles details about the next campaign out of him, or Robin gets him going on government conspiracy theories, or Steve cracks him up with a bitchy remark.

The kid’s about as subtle as a train full of cowbells crashing into a packed clown car.

But he makes it seem so easy, to just… be their friend. Too easy. As if Eddie doesn’t have a lifetime of reasons not to.

Against his better judgment, slowly but surely, they’re eroding his finely-honed walls. Growing like moss, like ivy between the cracks.

The kids barge in one day arguing at full volume. Steve trudges in behind them and drops into the crummy plastic chair closest to Eddie’s bed, the one usually occupied by Wayne or Dustin. Well, when Dustin’s not going toe to broken toe with his friends over—

“We can’t split the party under these conditions!”

[ keep reading below, or read on ao3 ]

Steve heaves a ragged sigh, and Eddie watches as if entranced by the complicated movements of Steve’s fingers as he alternates pinching the bridge of his nose and massaging over his eyes.

He looks wrung out. When was the last time he got a decent night’s sleep?

“So someone has to pull double duty. We’ll draw straws and rotate every week,” Mike says, like he’s being the pinnacle of reasonableness. Whatever it is, Eddie’s sure he isn’t.

“That’s not fair! We should just pull someone off and make them exempt. Like Nancy or El, someone we need on more useful things.”

“What the hell are you little gargoyles arguing about?” Eddie reaches for his DM baritone and comes up short. Maybe his diaphragm got rearranged with all the rest of his guts.

It still works to cut through the kids’ argument though. Steve shoots him a grateful look.

“We’re trying to decide what everyone in the party would do in the inevitable zombie apocalypse,” Mike hurries to explain.

“Inevitable..?” Eddie glances out the window he can just barely see from his position on the bed.

It’s been weeks since they wasted Vecna, with no sign of his sorry ass returning. No blood and ash raining from the sky, no earthquakes splitting the town apart, and definitely no zombies.

“Yeah, ‘cause see, if we’ve got El on recon, Nancy and Lucas take point with ranged weapons. Argyle’s in charge of foraging and cooking—”

Steve groans and slumps back in the seat as the kids pick up steam again. He’s so dramatic, Eddie can’t help a snort of laughter he covers with a cough. Steve’s got a hand splayed over his face, from his jaw up into his hairline, like he can block out the whole world. Or at least this one conversation.

With hands like that, maybe he can...

“But someone’s gotta stay back and guard the base! And you can’t have one person on watch, what if they fall asleep or get attacked or—”

A stupid little smile curls over Eddie’s lips as he watches Steve out of the corner of his eye while the kids keep arguing.

“We’re thirteen people now, Mike! There’s no way to divide watch shifts evenly between thirteen people and twenty-four hours in a day! Even Holly can do that math!”

Eddie whips around as reality drops on him like a load of every perfidious brick this group has worn down over the past couple weeks.

“What did you just say?”

Dustin gives him a disappointed look, “C’mon, Eddie, I know you of all people can do this math. Thirteen—”

No way. Absolutely not. That cannot possibly be correct. It has to be a mistake. It has to.

Eddie does a headcount, checking them off on his fingers hidden under the thin hospital sheets to double check their math. Someone got counted twice or not at all.

His three Hellfire gremlins plus Lady Applejack and Red. Nancy and Robin and Steve round out the Hawkins crew. Add in Supergirl and Zombie Boy with their whole “saving the world” schtick for an even ten, and now he’s really starting to sweat. Then there’s Jonathan and that guy Argyle. Plus Eddie makes…

“Oh my god, I’ll do it! I’ll be the designated hitter,” Steve half-shouts. The kids just stare at him blankly, and he sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes so hard Eddie’s surprised he doesn’t black out from it. “I’ll take the double shifts in your make believe zombie apocalypse. Happy?”

Steve’s hand, the one that was covering his face, sits warm and heavy over the sheet covering Eddie’s trembling hand. Eddie has no idea how or when it got there, or if Steve even really registers where it’s landed. Not exactly holding his hand, not with the sheet between them, but definitely there. Something to focus on that’s not how he already died and he’s still being fucking haunted by the spectre of his birth.

So no, he’s not happy, and neither are the gremlins. They immediately start shouting over each other to argue with him.

“Out!” Steve starts to rise from the chair, leaning his weight on Eddie’s hand and points at the door with a snap. “Get out! Go bother Max and Lucas with this shit, or I’m not driving your sorry asses back here tomorrow.”

And just like that, Dustin ushers them out, still grumbling and arguing. He shoots Steve a look, but Steve glares him down with a hand on his hip.

The door slams behind them and it’s finally, blissfully quiet.

“Jesus Christ with those kids,” Steve mutters as he reclaims his seat, “It’s like they can’t shut up for five minutes.”

Eddie is silent next to him in the bed, and he’s pretty sure if Steve’s hand wasn’t on his, it’d be shaking. The rest of him is. This clawing, aching, tingling vibration just under his skin. The tremor is coming from inside the house.

He knows better than this, he knows better, what the hell is he thinking.

He needs to stop fooling around and get his act together, or with his luck, there really will be a zombie apocalypse and all of these people will be casualties of it. All because of him.

“Sorry,” Steve says, sheepishly. “This is like, your room. I shouldn’t’ve kicked them out if you wanted them here. You just... you looked like you needed a break.”

“Yeah, I— yeah, it’s fine,” Eddie says on a rough exhale. Takes a steadying inhale. And judging by the bags under Steve’s eyes, “Looks like you could use a break yourself, man.”

“They’ve just been arguing about that stupid zombie apocalypse shit for hours!” Steve throws himself back in the chair and launches into his own rant.

One hand gestures wildly, digging through his hair and underscoring his words, while the other stays where it’s been planted, gently covering Eddie’s. Twitching and flexing occasionally.

He lets Eddie catch his breath. He gives him enough space that Eddie could slip his hand free, could pull away without making a big deal out of it. He has to feel Eddie’s hand by now, he has to. But he doesn’t move away.

Eddie doesn’t move away either.

He doesn’t have a good reason not to. In fact, he’s got nothing but good reasons to pull his hand back and let them both pretend like none of this ever happened.

But Steve’s hand is warm and solid over his, even through the sheet. And where would he put his hand anyway? Where would it go, untethered? If anything, it’d interrupt Steve’s flow, and it really seems like he needs to get all this off his beautifully hairy chest.

“—And they’re acting like it’s such a problem we’ve got an uneven number now!“

“Well they’ve kinda got a point. I mean, with thirteen…” Eddie interjects.

Steve flashes him a broad, cocky smile. “Hey, thirteen’s my lucky number.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eddie mumbles, mostly to himself.

Steve hears him anyway. “No, I’m serious! It’s been my jersey number since I was a kid. Like even way back when I was just playing tee ball. Oh, and get this! Somehow, all through grade school, I was number thirteen on the roll call list. Every year! I mean, that’s crazy, right?”

No, crazy is being pulled out of hell itself by the sheer force of will and determination of a guy whose lucky number is thirteen.

This is just too ironic for words. It’s bordering on absurd.

But Wayne’s always tried to tell him truth is stranger than fiction.

Eddie keeps his mouth shut with gritted teeth, holding back a laugh. Or maybe a scream. Either would land him in the loony bin, because once he started, he wouldn’t ever stop.

“And anyway, the way I see it, our luck’s never been better.”

That unsticks Eddie’s mouth.

“What?” he sputters. “Steve, three people are dead, Red and Henderson both have broken bones, and you got chewed on by fucking demon bats!”

Steve shrugs his shoulder loosely, like it’s just the price of doing business. “Yeah, but we actually figured out who’s behind all this shit. I mean like, everything, since ‘83. Since Will went missing and Barb... We finally got answers. And we closed all the gates now, for good. He’s gone. It’s over. And we’re all still here.”

Steve’s eyes slowly trace over Eddie’s own slightly mangled body. Over the tubes and wires snaking out between the bandages wrapped around his arms. Over the one taped across his cheek, until he meets Eddie’s eyes through his lashes. “We couldn’t’ve done it without you.”

Eddie doesn’t have a clue what to say to that. To any of it. The only thing he brings to the table are nerdy references and loud music and a penchant for getting anyone close to him killed.

But Steve makes all that sound like a good thing. Like Eddie is a good thing.

If he keeps this up, Eddie might almost start to believe him.

Steve clears his throat and releases Eddie from the trap of his honeyed hazel gaze, but not before Eddie sees the rosy pink color starting to tint his cheeks. The same heat rising over his own face.

“Sorry man, we’re doing a terrible job of letting you get any rest today. The kids came in here arguing, and then I just went off like that. I can go, if you want some peace and quiet,” Steve pushes the chair back, and Eddie’s fingers twitch under his hand.

Yes. “No, you… you can stay. If you want.” Eddie grabs the remote with his free hand and waggles it at him, plasters on a smile. “Let’s just watch some tv. Put on whatever you want.”

Steve doesn’t look quite convinced, but he does scootch his chair back closer to the bed. “No no no, it’s your tv, man. I know Dustin’s always stealing the remote.”

“C’mon, seriously…” Eddie thinks for a moment until he lands on, “What did you watch when you were home sick as a kid?”

“Uh no, absolutely not.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“You’re gonna laugh...”

“Cross my heart,” Eddie says, with all the sincerity he can muster.

Steve raises an eyebrow at him, before he blows out an aggrieved sigh. “Alright, look… when I was little, like real little, like younger than the kids, my mom would set me up on the couch with a big blanket with a hot water bottle… And she’d put on General Hospital.”

Eddie presses his lips shut tight to contain his snort of laughter. It still blows his cheeks out though, and there’s a smile he can’t quite keep in.

Steve glares at him, but there’s no heat behind it.

Eddie shakes his head, grinning, “General Hospital it is.”

They surf the channels for a while but can’t find it playing anywhere. Instead, Eddie lands one of Wayne’s old favorite spaghetti westerns, and starts outlining all the tropes of the genre. But it turns out Steve’s grandpa was just as big a fan, and Steve matches him beat for beat as they roast the stilted dialogue.

Eventually, Steve’s eyelids start to droop. His head drops a few times, before he jerks back up, blinking hard. Eddie keeps talking to him, but softer now. Slower. More and more space between each sentence.

Steve’s breath slows and evens out, his chin tucks into his chest and one arm wraps around his stomach. He falls asleep in that uncomfortable hospital chair with his hand still over Eddie’s.

It’s release day.

It’s finally, finally release day. Marked on his calendar and circled in red. Or it would be, if Eddie had a calendar. He’s never been good at keeping up with those kind of things.

The point is, he’s been counting down to this day for weeks. Weeks. But this is it, today’s the day.

He’s already been denied twice thanks to the government goons.

The first time, he was so out of it on painkillers, he didn’t even realize that maybe he should be taking their questions seriously. That one’s on him for answering everything in character as Samwise Gamgee.

The second time though, he’d bet his remaining guitar on petty revenge. All because he wouldn’t sign their stupid NDA without reading it thoroughly first. Or it could have been his demand for more than a pat on the back from Uncle Sam. Eddie wasn’t about to walk away from this all shit empty handed.

But all that’s settled now. He and Wayne got a modest farmhouse with some land, ready and waiting for them just outside of town. His name’s been cleared and the yokels bought the cover story, hook, line, and sinker. And there’s a stipend coming to a bank account with his name on it every month, as long as he keeps his trap shut. It’s enough that Wayne won’t have to work unless he really wants to.

All the doc has to do is sign his release form, and he’s gone. Eddie is leaving today or so help him—

But it’s not the doctor that comes through the door, or even Wayne.

It’s Steve.

With a “knock knock”, out loud, even as he knocks on the door, peeking around it, and beaming when he sees Eddie.

“Wayne sent me ahead with this,” he drops a hefty duffel bag on the foot of Eddie’s bed. “He and Dustin are just finishing up at the house, they’ll be here any minute.”

Eddie balks a little at that, but Steve chuckles knowingly.

“Don’t worry, Henderson’s leaving with me. I had to bribe him with a trip to the comic book store, but at least it’ll give you and Wayne some time to get settled at the new place.”

“Is it good?” Eddie can’t help but ask. Hates how small it comes out. There’s always a chance the suits decided to screw them over.

Steve answers with one of those soft smiles of his. “Yeah, man. It’s great. You’re gonna love it.”

“Good, good,” Eddie says absentmindedly. He has to tear his eyes away and grab the bag, start rifling through it. All the while trying not to wonder who picked out these clothes and who packed them up and—

“I’ll uh, give you some privacy,” Steve says as Eddie pulls out a heavy red plaid and a pair of sweats.

He pulls the curtain around Eddie’s bed between them, but he doesn’t leave. Instead he asks if Eddie wants the latest (and hopefully last) hospital gossip.

“Uh, duh! I gotta know if Luellen’s made a move yet.”

Eddie wrangles his arms inside the hospital gown and pulls it roughly over his head to throw it in a heap in the corner. Ooo-ing and gasping at all the right moments during Steve’s tales of intrigue.

He has to move slower than he wants to, has to take his time and sit on the edge of the bed, dangling his legs to the floor to shimmy into the sweatpants.

And whoever picked the flannel deserves a goddamn Nobel prize. He’s able to slip it on easily without agitating his remaining stitches or lifting his arms above his head. And once he’s got the buttons done up, it’s loose enough not to snag or cling.

Eddie digs around in the bag again and fishes out a pair of slip-on shoes. They’re not his, not his usual style, and definitely don’t go with this getup. But the worn leather is soft, and at least he doesn’t have to deal with the whole mess of bending over to tie them. Or— god forbid— ask Steve to come over and tie them for him.

That’s an ordeal he’s not sure he’d survive.

Whoever packed this bag is getting a fruit basket.

In a soft purple crown royal bag tucked in on the side, he finds his rings and his necklace, and it makes something in his heart clench. Something slots into place, just by sliding the rings back on his fingers, the pick over his head. Whole, in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Screw the fruit basket, they’re getting a whole goddamn orchard.

Eddie’s been quiet for a long moment, not quite keeping up his end of the storytelling experience.

Steve’s gone quiet too, and Eddie’s not sure how long it’s been since either of them said anything.

On the other side of the curtain, Steve clears his throat, and his sneakers squeak on the tile as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“Are you decent?”

Eddie snorts out a laugh. “I’m dressed if that’s what you’re asking.”

He catches the tail end of Steve’s eye roll as he pulls back the curtain. He looks Eddie up and down as he comes around. Smiles softly and gets comfortable on the foot of the bed, one leg folded underneath him.

“Ready to go?”

“You have no idea,” and Eddie has to fight the urge not to throw himself back dramatically on the bed. Damn the stitches.

“Yeah, I don’t blame ya. My longest stay wasn’t even half as long as they’ve kept you, and I was climbing the walls by the end of it.” He rubs unconsciously at the scar running through the edge of his eyebrow.

Eddie does not take his hand and pull it away to soothe the aching memory himself. He doesn’t even think about it, really. Definitely doesn’t have to distract himself with an old habit like sliding his rings off and on his fingers.

“What, unseasoned hospital food doesn’t appease your refined palette?” he teases in a haughty voice.

“If I had to eat one more piece of dry, rubbery chicken…” Steve threatens.

“No way, man, the pork chops are way worse.”

They argue back and forth, ranking the rest of the limited hospital menu on a scale of pudding cups to sawdust, and it’s good, it’s easy.

Until there’s a lull in the conversation, and Steve clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. Sits up a little straighter, squaring his shoulders like he’s psyching himself up.

“Hey so I was thinking… Maybe once you’re all cleared, I can take you out for dinner sometime? I promise it’ll be better than any of this crap.”

Steve looks so earnest, so hopeful, with that confident damn smile curving his lips and his heavy lidded eyes watching Eddie. His hands flex like he wants to reach for him. But he stays still and gives Eddie his space. Must somehow know Eddie would be even more likely to run if he did.

A tight knot of want and can’t claws roughly up Eddie’s throat and he’s pretty sure he stops breathing.

He has to tell him. Knowing Eddie, being friends with Eddie, it’s dangerous. It always has been. He’s let himself indulge in this fantasy for way too long. He has to put a stop to it, now.

It’s more dangerous than Dustin, than Wayne, than Chrissy. Not just a friend but something— someone more.

“Steve…” who Eddie cannot even begin to think about being anything. He won’t.

Eddie Munson is nobody’s happy ending.

“You don’t want— this,” he chickens out at the last second.

Steve’s smile slowly fades and he blinks a few times. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as his head tilts to the side, considering for a moment. “I think you should let me decide what I want.”

And Eddie wants to scream.

This isn’t about you!

But of course, it is. It’s about him, and every single person that’s come before him, and every one that’s sure to come after him, and everything that has and will go wrong.

The words catch in Eddie’s throat, and he can’t say any of them. So he just sits there, frozen and silent and begging Steve to understand.

Steve looks away and lets out a long breath. Not quite a sigh as he shakes his head. He stands and starts heading towards the door.

He turns back before he gets there though, catching Eddie again in his earnest gaze.

“The real question: is what do you want, Eddie?”

And nobody’s asked him that in such a long time. Every day since he woke up in the hospital has been the same. All of his meals are pre-planned and brought at the exact same time, whether he’s hungry or not, whether he likes the food or can even keep it down or not. His schedule, from when to sleep to when to take his meds to when he does physical therapy, has been out of his hands. And then Dustin shows up with whoever he decides to bring with him that day.

Eddie’s been resurrected, but what choice has he really had?

Part of him, this new part of him born from his death and a second chance at life, is just daring him to see how far he can push his newfound luck. To prove once and for all if the curse really is broken.

Eddie’s never said no to a dare.

Steve turns to leave, one hand reaching for the door, and Eddie scrambles to his feet. Takes a few shaky stiff, baby deer steps forward as he calls him back, “Steve—”

He holds Steve’s gaze for an impossibly long moment, tracing the swirls and whorls and questions in his hazel eyes, his freckles and moles and scars.

Go big and go home.

“How about a kiss?” Eddie asks. “For luck?”

Steve’s face morphs through several expressions so fast, Eddie can’t keep track of all of them. He lands on something incredulous, his lips curving upwards in a smirk even as his eyebrows fall and pinch in the middle at the sheer audacity—

But he crosses the room in two swift strides to stand in front of Eddie. Throws a quick glance at the still-shut door, at his mouth, before meeting his eyes again. Eddie barely starts to nod, and Steve’s lips are on his.

His gentle strong hand around Eddie’s elbow reels him in, pulls him closer. Eddie’s lands on his bicep, and the flex of muscle ignites a frisson of sparks under his palm to race through his bloodstream.

Steve’s other hand caresses Eddie’s unblemished cheek. Like he’s something precious. Something to hold onto, something dear.

As far as kisses go, it’s Eddie’s first.

Soft, sure and confident, the kiss is everything Eddie could have ever dreamed of. Hurried— not as in frenzied. Hurried as in greedy. Desperate to steal the breath from his lungs before he’s even noticed it’s missing.

Eddie kisses Steve back with equal fervor, trying to pour everything he has, everything he wants, everything he fears into the movement of his lips, the sweep of his tongue.

Eddie’s hand joins Steve’s on his cheek, keeping him close. An anchor in the tsunami flooding his senses with everything Steve. Cherry lip balm and hairspray, fresh laundry, and the musky hint of sweat underneath it all. It’s intoxicating. Incomparable. Incredible.

And Eddie’s just gonna blame the weeks-long hospital stay for how fast he goes weak at the knees.

Steve’s sure, steady hand in the small of Eddie’s back guides him slowly backwards until his thighs hit the bed again, and he sits hard, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

Eddie reaches for him, eyes wide and staring up at Steve through his lashes, hooking his fingers through his belt loops. Two steps away is too far but Steve wastes no time crowding closer to stand between Eddie’s legs. He gently tips Eddie’s face up with a featherlight touch and kisses him deeply while Eddie holds him firmly by his hips.

Consuming and consumed, devouring and devoured. Wanting and wanted.

When they come up for air, Steve swoops back in, once, twice, and a lingering third time, like he’s reluctant to stop. And Eddie strains his neck to meet him kiss for kiss.

Steve finally pulls away just far enough to sigh breathlessly against his lips, “Is that all you want, Eddie?” His eyes screwed shut tight.

No. Eddie wants everything. For now though, he’ll settle for– “Somebody said something about dinner and movie?”

“Oh so now there’s a movie, huh?” Steve says, but he’s smiling and nudges his nose against Eddie’s.

“Don’t go thinking I’m a cheap date now, sweetheart,” and Eddie’s smiling too. Smiling too much for more than quick kisses that skate across their lips.

With each peck, Eddie schemes how to get Steve’s lips on his again. How to keep him. Keep him safe.

They break apart when the sharp clack-clack of heels echoes down the corridor from Eddie’s room, heralding the doctor’s arrival.

Eddie was born under a bad sign. But maybe here, in this new life, he can make his own luck.

[ also on ao3 ]

#steddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #steveddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things steve #stranger things eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #friday the 13th fic #bad luck fic #kk writes

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imaginebetterfutures · 2 months ago

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Being Trans Isn't Measles

This is my own personal opinion and I don't think it's necessarily 100% right, but I do not love the viral posts I keep seeing that say things like "there are now more people with measles in the US than there are trans athletes playing in college."

For one thing, we have no idea how many trans athletes are playing in college. The number most people cite is 10, which is based on testimony the NCAA president gave to a Senate last year*. He was asked "How many transgender athletes are you aware of?” and he answered "less than 10." That doesn't mean there are less than 10 athletes playing college sports, it just means that the head of the NCAA personally only knows about less than 10 of them. Plus, the NCAA isn't even the only collegiate sports governing body out there — there is also the NAIA, which oversees an additional 83,000 students.

Right now the CDC has 222 confirmed measles cases in the US. Are there more than 222 trans athletes playing sports in college? Maybe! I don't know! NOBODY DOES and that's fine**. We don't need a registry of trans athletes. But it's also worth remembering that these bills and attacks don't only apply to collegiate athletes — they want to ban trans athletes at every level. Are there more than 222 trans athletes playing sports in schools around the country? Definitely!

So for starters, I'm allergic to people confidently asserting statistics they literally cannot be confident about.

If it was just that, I'd let it go. But I'm also not in love with comparing trans folks with measles. The right already thinks that being trans is some terrible disease that should be eradicated. Measles IS a terrible disease that should be eradicated. What does this comparison get us? What is the thing we're supposed to take away from it?

I think the intended idea is that right wing fascists are spending their time worrying about the wrong things (trans athletes) rather than the right ones (measles) — and that is true. But I have to believe that we can make that point without drawing a direct line between an marginalized and currently deeply vulnerable identity and a deadly illness. It's easy for me to see folks taking the wrong point from this: that we should treat both as outbreaks, and try to work to cure/eradicate both things.

*This was during a Senate Judiciary Committee hearing about federal regulations around sports gambling. What that has to do with trans athletes is a mystery to me.

**The statistic usually cited is that trans folks make up about 0.5% of the adult population. If you do some extremely unreliable back of the envelop math of .5% of the total NCAA and NAIA student athletes out there, that's 593,000 x .5% you get a rough estimate of 2965. Even if you cut that by 75%, because sports is not a welcoming space for trans folks, you're still looking at a very, very rough estimate of potentially 741 athletes. Which is more than double the number of current measles cases. I would not publish this math as a real estimate because, once again, NOBODY KNOWS, but it is still potentially a useful exercise.

#annoying opinions #trans athletes #measles #someone is wrong on the internet #statistics are not reality

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ghostenluvs · 4 months ago

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bits of personality details that might not make it into the episodes:

[most of these are from a headcannon generator I thought was accurate but some of them are my own]

Spencer

has fallen asleep at their desk while working in the middle of the night.

spence is aromantic.

spence's least favourite subject in school was Gym.

spence has punched a hole in their wall.

spence would wear Hello Kitty socks.

spence would listen to 80s music.

spence shops exclusively at thrift stores.

spence sleeps in until noon.

spence cringes at their middle school yearbook photos.

spence has one, very simple word that they cannot figure out how to pronounce. Its envy. He says it like en vai

spence does not know what sleep is.

spence is a theatre kid.

Is terrified of being a bad person and tries to overcompensate for it by doing lots of favours for people, if he’s helping he’s doing good right?

Desperate for meaningful connection.

Tabitha

Doll phobia

tabby is great with kids.

If the source media was a musical, tabby would be the one character that asks why everyone is singing.

tabby can play the piano.

tabby hates being alone.

tabby steals other people's clothes.

tabby would wear Hello Kitty socks.

tabby is not good with social cues.

tabby has a pet lizard.

tabby can beat you up and will. [if you hurt her pals]

tabby is asexual.

tabby is a dog person.

Awful liar.

extrovert.

Dexter

dex is constantly singing for no reason.

dex does intricate and expensive cosplays.

dex is smart but also very stupid.

dex had an emo phase.

dex tackles and wrestles people to show affection.

dex will go feral. Watch out. [eric better count his nonconcussed days]

dex is not allowed to drink energy drinks.

dex has a mary sue oc.

dex will remind others in the midst of chaos how good they're being.

Dex is eager to learn new types of math

dex tells dad jokes.

dex forgets to eat sometimes.

If dex likes someone, they will give them a pretty rock.

dex likes to sing at 4 in the morning. Their neighbors hate them.

dex knocks people over by hugging them.

Loves this one specific niche comic book series but cannot let people know he reads books.

Religious trauma.

Has a job and makes it his whole identity unless you drag him out of that mindset by the collar.

Juno

Can't sit still in a chair

Juno believes in ghosts and insists on trying to summon one at every sleepover.

Juno desperately needs a hug but doesn't know it and refuses to ask for one.

Juno cannot drive. [horses are afraid of them]

Pet hamster named azalea

Hates messes, cleans and tidies and erin condrens everything compulsively [their scanners get confused if it’s too cluttered and they hate not seeing things right.]

Sings like daft punk. Loves karaoke.

Will stare directly at your face to scan your facial expression, can’t read tones of voice well.

Knows flower language.

Loves prime numbers.

Scared of animals because they don’t have data on their body language.

Double jointed everywhere.

Thinks of themself as sort of a living shield whenever their friends are in danger, they can be repaired. [this is a bad thing that will cause them harm].

Photographic memory.

Can’t eat, but loves pasta as a concept.

Laura

Smart but very stupid

Afraid of doctors

Has a nightlight

Cats

is very willing to eat inedible things.

Loves useless trinkets from friends.

Loves their friends deeply.

Can do a handstand

Chessmaster extraordinair

AUTISM. NOT EVEN A SMALL AMOUNT. IT IS IMPERATIVE PEOPLE KNOW SHES ATISTIC. Theyre all autistic bc im autistic but i mean she’s extra autistic. Its important to her character.

Yk those gomez and morticia duos? Shes in one.

Will beat the crap out of you if you hurt her friends.

Loathes the government

Could very well have become batman if her tragic event had happened just a few years earlier.

Cass

Great artist

Board games

Lollipop theft when five, still guilty

Forgets to eat sometimes

Cries to disney movie stories

Terrified of rabbits

Hates winter.

Will sometimes go out while its raining and lay down in the grass and stare at the sky until it stops.

Impeccable immune system.

Puts flowers in her afro when she goes out to gather them.

Makes really good tea. [recipe from her grandma]

Absolutely terrified to hurt anyone or anything by accident bc her powers scared her as a kid. She will throw 24 bandaids and a whole cabinet of tylenol at you if she even bumps into you [hyperbole, but she really hates hurting things]

Type of person who would raise baby squirrels

Loves hot cocoa.

Zeph

Incredible spice tolerance

Fear of heights

Ur mom jokes.

Sleepwalked as a kid

Sings while magicing

Pet squirrel names charles.

If someone they knew commited a crime, zeph would cover for them.

zeph chews their nails when nervous.

Disaster bisexual.

canNOT have hair touching his neck he’ll scream.

always has a knife on them.

Invents energy drinks.

no respect for rich people. not even one molecule of respect.

sass for days.

would teach you how to cheese games at an arcade

full of energy, but not often loud.

#mcrp #mcyt #tsata #the story taker and the archivist #juno [tsata]#laura [tsata]#Dexter [tsata]#spencer [tsata]#zephyr [tsata]#Cassandra [tsata]

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highqueenofelfhame · 2 years ago

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a/n: if you've been here for awhile or read through my masterlist, you might remember this one. it became a fan favorite but it was written when i first entered the fandom and there have been things i wanted done differently. things i wanted to rewrite or write better. so i'm doing it. it'll be the same story you love, if you love it, just better, longer, more thought out. a lot will stay the same but alot will change. if yu're wondering what the fuck i'm talking about, a rough version of this story exits on my masterlist titled "all i ask of you." anyway. i hope you enjoy this.

rowaelin // 5.8k words // masterlist

Sweat trickled in little streams down his back, gluing the tan, standard-issue shirt he wore to every dip and curve of his torso. On most assignments, Rowan Whitethorn didn't mind his uniform. Generally speaking, the material was lightweight enough in most climates that they stayed comfortable. The boots were heavy, sure, but they were comfortable.

In the middle of the desert, he hated all of it. The best time of the day was when he took it off to duck under a cold shower, then crawled into bed in nothing but his undershorts. Unfortunately for him, that was a long way off. The sun scorched them to the bone, and the slight breeze did nothing but send sand whirling through the air.

When Rowan got out of the Red Desert, he never wanted to see a single grain of sand ever again.

He walked down the street to the two small houses they used as a base. If anything, they were more akin to rundown shacks in a shanty town, but it worked. One was used for communications, and all their tech was set up throughout various rooms. They took turns on night watch, monitoring the cameras and comms for anything that looked amiss.

The other house was where they ate, bathed, and slept. Nobody had a semblance of privacy here, save for the shitty little bathroom. All the men but Lorcan doubled up in the rooms and slept on glorified cots every night, often mumbling to their roommates to stop tossing and turning. Their beds tended to creak and groan with every subtle movement. On bad days, tension soared until they inevitably went outside to beat each other senseless in the form of hand-to-hand combat practice.

The houses were on the outskirts of an impoverished chunk of land that couldn't even be considered a village at this point, though once upon a time, it had been a well-populated township. Now there were just rundown buildings and dilapidated houses that people crammed into for shelter. Less than two thousand people remained living in the desolate stretch of desert. All of them were skin and bones, the malnourished ghosts of who they used to be.

Over their last few months of being abandoned in the Red Desert, they learned that the breadwinners of the family, usually men, pedaled bicycles to the surrounding towns for work. A few of them were forced to walk, which was a feat in itself– the closest town was ten miles away and would take them well over two hours to arrive. Rowan had also learned, mainly from the children, that the ones that walked stayed in cheap inns during the week if they could afford it. Everything else was funneled into food and any other necessities they required, including running water that they really only used to cook and bathe.

Most of the women homeschooled their children to the best of their ability. Generally, they could read, write, and perform basic math. Much else was lost due to the lack of accessible tools for anything beyond that. Rowan had an intense respect for the people that dwelled here and did their best with what they had.

On the other hand, he could kill every government official who continued to leave these people behind. There was no excuse for such an extreme display of poverty in this day and age. It was made worse by how kind the people were. They lived in the worst conditions they had ever seen, yet still found joy in the little things.

Case in point: a few of the kids that Rowan gave the candy from his MREs to were chasing a soccer ball around the makeshift pitch Fenrys had built for them. He and his twin brother, Connall, were playing with the gaggle of teenage boys and girls, their bright laughter chipping away at his frozen heart. It had been long since anything had threatened to thaw his frozen core, but those children whooping and hollering got to him.

Rowan lifted a hand in greeting, shaking his head but offering a tight smile when they shouted for him to join them. If Lorcan hadn't summoned him, he probably would have. They had done a fat lot of nothing today besides trying to stay out of the sun. Rowan had only left the communications house less than an hour ago to stretch his legs.

Once inside, he found Lorcan sitting at the desk in the room they considered their office. It wasn't much more than a couple of chairs and a folding table, but it got the job done. Rowan rapped his knuckles against the door frame as he entered and leaned against it, folding his arms across his chest.

"You wanted to see me?" There was no point in bothering with formalities unless people outside the Cadre were around. They rarely pulled rank amongst themselves. Rowan was second in command, but they usually viewed it as a partnership more than anything else.

"Yep," Lorcan exhaled, putting his pen down and bracing his arms on the edge of the table. Every muscle in his face was tense, down to the feathering of his jaw as he eyed Rowan. This didn't bode well. Whatever he was about to say wasn't good. There was no light hiding in the shadows of his dark eyes. Lorcan had a shit poker face when it came to bad news. With a jerk of his chin, he added, "Sit down."

"What happened?" Rowan slid into one of the folding chairs across from him and braced his hands on his knees.

"We're going to be a team of six again, starting tomorrow morning." That was all? That didn't seem like the tragedy he looked ready to drop on Rowan's head.

They used to be a group of six until Gavriel retired last year, and they still weren't used to being down to five men. While each of them brought forth their strengths and balanced out their weaknesses, an even number of people made things easier on missions because everyone could be paired off into two teams. During their last few, they had all wished for that extra body. Having another person would be great, especially if he was skilled enough to keep up with the rest of them.

Though several special ops units existed in the Terrasen Navy, Rowan's was the most elite and the smallest. Every other team had at least a dozen men assigned to it, but it wasn't necessary with the Cadre, the name Rowan's ex bestowed upon them. All of them were over six feet tall and corded with muscle. What they lacked in numbers, they made up for in skill. There was a reason they didn't push to replace Gavriel when he retired. Nobody else was a match for them in any capacity and would have been in the way more than anything else.

"Why don't you look happy about it?" Rowan asked, relaxing a bit and leaning back in his chair. Lorcan looked like he was grinding his teeth to dust and savoring the pain that came with it.

"Because I'm not."

"You had to approve it. He must be good enough to hold his own with the rest of us." His commander wouldn't accept anyone unless he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could do his job with expert precision.

Lorcan scratched his jaw, nails scraping against the stubble he hadn't bothered to shave away that morning as he said, "It’s not a he.”

Rowan’s blood turned to ice in his veins so quickly that he shivered for the first time in several months. Every hair on his body stood at attention, skin pebbling down his arms, shaking his head in a single sharp movement as he ground out, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to know who she was. Her name had been whispered up and down the grapevine over the last few years as she quickly climbed the ranks. At this point, she was almost as decorated as he was, and he had been at it for three years longer. Thousands of women served in the various military branches, but only one had ever been good enough to break the glass ceiling and become a Ghost Leopard.

The Ghost Leopards were Terrasen’s most elite special operations unit. No other military group came close to the skill and drive they had. Most people didn’t even try to join— the physical, mental, and emotional strength demanded was too much for many to handle. Rowan’s unit was the best the Ghost Leopards had to offer.

Rowan knew she had been part of two different ops teams, but never in a million years did he think she would join his own. Not because she wasn’t good enough. There was no question in his mind that she didn’t belong. Lorcan disliked the woman on a good day, yet he had approved her joining the Cadre after putting personal bias aside.

No, she had definitely earned it; he could admit that much. Rowan had just doubted that she would ever want to share any amount of oxygen with him ever again. Her assignment to the Cadre likely hadn’t been her own idea. Whoever initiated it must well and truly detest Rowan, though. The gods were playing a cruel, sick joke on him.

Lorcan’s features were frozen with tension, lips curling at the corners in distaste as he said, “Aelin Galathynius arrives tomorrow.”

~*~

All five men stood in a straight line, feet shoulder-width apart and hands clasped behind their backs. They had decided on the dressed-down version of their uniform, foregoing the over shirts with patches, ranks, and names on them. They each wore the same tan t-shirt tucked into pants in a multi camouflage pattern in shades of brown. It perfectly matched the sandy ocean they were trapped in.

Heavy black boots anchored Rowan to the ground while they watched the helicopter land a few hundred yards away, kicking up enough dust that they were all happy about the sunglasses and camouflage balaclavas they wore. Without them, the sand would be in every fucking orifice for days on end.

The newest member of their team finally hopped out, landing with feline grace. To anyone else, she would have been unrecognizable with her face and eyes covered. Not even her hair peeked out as she walked toward them, heaving her bags higher on her shoulder. Rowan would know her anywhere, though.

It wasn’t until the helicopter returned to the skies and the dust settled that she finally pulled her balaclava down around her neck to expose her face. The aviator-style sunglasses stayed perched on her nose, and though her hair was slicked back into a bun at the nape of her neck, the golden strands still shimmered in the sun. The only difference in her uniform was that she wore her blouse with the sleeves rolled up and over her elbows. Seeing her like this made his vision cloudy at the edges, the memory of their first meeting creeping to the forefront of his mind. He forcefully shoved it away.

The sixty seconds it took her to be within ten feet of them seemed to happen too quickly and in slow motion all at the same time. No emotion flickered over her face, not even her mouth, which usually wore a smirk. Aelin Galathynius was all business.

Hearing her name multiple times in the last twenty-four hours had his mind twisted around itself in a tight knot he couldn’t unwind. Typically, everyone avoided bringing her up when they could, yet now he was seeing her in the flesh for the first time in years. With his heart trying to break his ribs, he was surprised that he heard Lorcan call her by her last name when she stopped before him.

It probably killed her to do it, but she saluted him the way she would any other commander. Lorcan gave her a nod in return, and her body relaxed. Aelin’s bags slid from her shoulders and landed with a thud on the ground at her feet. Rowan heard her sigh for the first time in ages as her hands dropped to her hips, and she gave them all a once-over.

Light and mischief danced in her fiery blue gaze until she looked at him. Any semblance of emotion flickered out like he’d extinguished the fire that burned within. It wasn’t the first time he had seen her eyes look so damn empty when turned on him. Her dead gaze yanked him two and half years in the past, holding him at gunpoint as he remembered the first time she had ever looked at him that way.

“I promise. Okay?” Rowan’s hands held Aelin’s cheeks like she was the most precious thing in the world to him because she was. It didn’t matter what he said or did, though. That heavy sadness wouldn’t dissipate, and she wouldn’t look at him.

“Rowan, I told you–”

“Baby, it’s the last one, and then I’ll take a job in the city, and it won’t be like this anymore. It’s going to get better, and we’re going to be okay.” He only had minutes left with her, and he hated wasting it like this. It would have been better spent sharing kisses or with him exploring her body to prove how much he loved her. Instead, when they woke up, Aelin had retreated so deeply within herself that he didn’t feel like he could reach her.

“You’ve said twice now that it was going to be the last time. When is it actually going to be the last time, Rowan?” Gods, he really didn’t want to fight with her before he left.

“This is the last deployment I’m going to make,” he swore, and he meant it. He’d already told his commander, and as much as he had hated it, at the end of the day, Lorcan understood. “I don’t want to fight with you right now.”

“I wanted you to stay and pick me for once, so I guess neither of us is getting what we want, are we?” The look in her eyes wasn’t one he’d ever received from her. There was no warmth of love, just a distant chill that felt so tangible goosebumps crawled along his skin.

“Aelin,” he sighed, tugging her until he could wrap his arms around her even though she tried to resist. At complete odds with her expressions and words, her arms tightened around his waist, and she fisted his jacket in her hands. Like this was their hardest goodbye yet, she refused to let him go.

They stood like that for several minutes, Rowan’s lips pressed to the top of her head while he breathed in her scent one more time. Nothing ever came close to how much he missed her when he was gone. Every deployment, he took something of hers with him, falling asleep to the faint scent of jasmine until time washed away any sign of its owner.

“You’re going to be late,” she finally said, pulling back and wiping her face with the back of her wrist.

“This is the last time,” he swore for a final time, taking her face between his palms and wiping at her cheeks. Aelin nodded, eyes fixed somewhere over his shoulder.

“Yeah. Okay.” The goodbyes were always hard, but this time was different. A warning bell was chiming in the back of his head, but he pushed it aside. They made it through everything else over the last five years, and they would pull through this, too.

“I love you.” Rowan kissed her, his heart shattering at the feel of her quivering mouth against his. A sob slipped out of her lips, her shoulders caving in. Aelin shook her head, letting it fall to read against his chest. “Hey. We’re okay.”

They were. It was an argument they’d had over and over for the last few years. While Aelin loved active duty, she had taken a desk job a few months ago when they had agreed that when Rowan got back from his last deployment, it was his last. Lorcan had begged him for one more tour because Gavriel was talking about retiring, and he didn’t want to lose them both at the same time. The day Rowan returned and told his girlfriend he was doing one last twelve month deployment, it immediately became a fight that wouldn’t end.

Aelin was twenty-six and genuinely loved her job, but she had wanted to start planning their future. Rowan was twenty-nine, and while he did want those things, he still wanted to keep building his legacy and rake in every ounce of glory while he still could. He wanted nothing more than Aelin, and he knew they could stick it out for one more year. They were strong enough to handle anything thrown at them. Of that, he was absolutely certain.

While the fighting had led to a lot of high tension in their house, they still loved each other at the end of the day. Even when it was hard, and they went months without hearing each other’s voices or seeing one another, they shared such a rare, blinding love that nothing could fracture it.

“I love you,” he said once more, kissing her trembling lips and wiping her tears away.

“I love you, too.” But her eyes didn’t meet his, and it was the image of her crying in the foyer that chased him into fitful sleep every night after.

~*~

“Aelin Galathynius,” Fenrys drawled, shaking his head as he took her in. Over the formalities of the situation, Aelin pulled off her sunglasses and dropped into a low bow with her arms spread wide. As soon as she pulled her eyes from Rowan and looked at their mutual best friend, she grinned.

“At your service,” she crooned with a wink. Down the line, Rowan snorted and turned on his heel, just about stomping the entire way back to the house. Aelin’s eyes rolled, and Fenrys held his arms open for a hug. With a squeal and a joyous giggle, she ran for him and leaped into his waiting arms.

“As soon as Salvaterre said we were getting a sixth again, I fucking knew it was you.” His voice was low in her ear as he spun them in a circle, finally putting her feet back on land so she could hug Connall and Vaughan. Aelin made no effort to further engage in conversation with Lorcan. They tolerated each other on a good day, and he was still watching Rowan as he disappeared into what she assumed was their living quarters.

“I missed you the most out of everyone,” she told Fen as he hefted her bags over one shoulder and threw his other arm around her to lead her toward the house.

“Even more than you missed Whitethorn?” It was a joke, one that wasn’t rewarded with laughter but by a swift jab to his ribs. He winced, lips pulling into a harsh frown. Aelin couldn’t help it. She smiled.

“Is he still being a bitter asshole?”

“Worse, if you can believe it,” Connall chimed in. A sigh was desperate to creep out of her lips, but she swallowed it down. She knew when she got the assignment that it wouldn’t be easy for her, Rowan, or anyone that had to be in close proximity to them. Aelin also knew that she could check the baggage at the door when it came down to doing their jobs. In their downtime, however… She was making no promises.

“We cleared out a room for you. Fenrys can show you which one,” Lorcan shot over his shoulder as he walked past them, headed toward the house next to the one Rowan had entered.

“I don’t need special treatment just because I’m a woman!” Lorcan merely waved dismissively over his shoulder and slammed the front door behind him.

“I promise there is no special treatment here in Hela’s fucking armpit,” Vaughan mumbled, nudging her with his shoulder as he brushed past. Indeed, it seemed their living quarters were a far cry from her house in Orynth. Not that the barracks or living situations on special missions were ever anything to write home about, but this was particularly shoddy.

Fenrys led her inside, gesturing to each fixture in the common areas and trying to sell them for far more than their worth. It wasn’t the worst place Aelin had ever lived in her decade-long career in the military, but his jokes had her in stitches by the time he led her to her ‘bedroom.’

Really, it was more of an oversized closet with a cot, a chair for a nightstand, and a single light operated by a cord that dangled from the ceiling. Someone had put a small fan on top of the chair that she turned on to test the airflow. Beneath the cot was just enough space for her to slide her bags, and the door shut almost all the way. It refused to latch, but you win some and lose some. It wasn’t the worst and definitely beat sleeping outside or sharing a room with any of the boys. Aelin had spent enough time with military men to know they smelled horrible.

Not that she smelled like jasmine at all hours of the day, but the women tended to try a little harder than the men did. It didn’t matter that she knew all of them personally. Maybe it was a little sexist, but she stood firm in the idea that women cared a little more about body odor than men.

After the grand tour was finished and she’d peeked into the guys' rooms, they walked back toward the kitchen. Aelin had arrived much later than planned, and Rowan was already preparing his MRE for dinner. The others quickly followed suit, and Fenrys knelt on the ground to dig through the box.

“Alright, we’ve got spaghetti with meat sauce, chili mac, a chicken stew, regular mac and cheese, and lemon pepper tuna.”

“Chili mac,” she said, firm in her decision. It was one of the best ones, and with their supplies looking a little low, she didn’t know how it was even an option.

Fenrys handed her the dinner, and she quickly removed all the contents. Along with the main entree, it held a few other snack items ranging from a beef jerky stick to a packet of Sour Patch Kids and a few things in between. She hummed contentedly at the fruit punch powder packet that she would most definitely add to her water.

Aelin was forced to sidle up next to Rowan to fill her pouch with water to activate the one-time-use heater that came with the meals. He said nothing as their shoulders brushed until she was finished, folding her pouch over to avoid spillage. Aelin handed her food off to Fenrys while she relocated everything else to the small table that would barely hold them all. By the time she retrieved it and took her seat, Rowan was already in his chair.

Because she simply couldn’t pass up on the opportunity, she sat next to him, not bothering to avoid their knees knocking or shoulders bumping as she settled. Again, he said nothing. Just stabbed at his own pouch of beef and barbecue and pretended she wasn’t there.

“Are you going to give me the silent treatment?” Aelin nudged his elbow with hers, tilting her head to look at him. Rowan finally relented and gave her a sidelong glance.

The others, including Lorcan, were claiming their seats. To their credit, it seemed that they were trying not to eavesdrop, but that was impossible in this house. Lorcan, however, looked ready to jump between them and dispel a fight that would leave two of his incredible assets licking their wounds.

“I was thinking about it,” Rowan replied tersely, not looking up as he shoved a bite into his mouth. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing for the last few years?”

“Ah, so Connall was right then.” Bitter asshole to his very core, apparently. Fenrys snickered at her remark beside her while Rowan tensed. Aelin could have been sitting up against a concrete wall and wouldn’t have known the difference.

“What are you missing most about civilian life?” Fen asked, likely an attempt to prevent a verbal sparring match. He popped a skittle into his mouth and settled back in his rickety chair.

“I barely remember what it’s like at this point, to be honest.” It was the truth. Aelin had thrown herself so thoroughly into work that she was only home for a few days at a time. The longest she’d been home was for a month last summer. There were days when she didn’t know what to do with herself and days when her mattress felt too soft, or the food too indulgent. Aelin pondered, mouth twisting to the side. “Usually, I would say long, hot showers. But I don’t think I’ll be craving any sort of heat while we’re here. Probably my nightgowns. I can handle everything else, but sleeping in silk is wildly underrated.”

“Can you not share intimate details while we’re eating?” Rowan grumbled. Aelin whipped her head around to look at him, her brow furrowed.

“Intimate details, my ass. You’ve literally been inside me. I don’t think it gets more intimate than that.” Had she chosen nightgowns specifically to wiggle her way under Rowan’s skin? Maybe. But it didn’t make his reaction any less stupid. “How the hell is sleepwear an intimate detail?”

Rowan opened his mouth to respond, but Lorcan beat him to the punch, looking for all the world like he should have told them to put Aelin in someone else’s company as he said, “On the topic of civilian life–”

“Please tell me we’re leaving this godsforsaken place,” Fenrys cut in, eyes wide and pleading.

“I just flew halfway around the world, and we’re leaving?” Aelin felt as exasperated as she sounded. It was a long way to travel to just turn around and head right back. She wasn’t eager to be cooped back up on any sort of aircraft so soon.

“In three days,” Lorcan confirmed, shifting in his seat to pull a roll of paper from his back pocket that he dropped into the middle of the table. Six pairs of eyes peered down, scanning the words even though it was upside down for Fenrys, Aelin, and Rowan. “I didn’t find out until this morning, or we would have waited for you to join us then.”

“What’s going on?”

“Since we’ve been monitoring the border here for months and nothing is happening, we’re more useful elsewhere. Another unit will be stationed here while we go to Rifthold.”

“What’s happening in Rifthold?” Rowan asked, leaning back in his chair. Aelin did the same while taking a swig of fruit punch, eyeing the unused drink packet from Rowan’s meal kit. It was grape, and she knew he wouldn’t drink it because it was too sweet. Maybe she could steal it when he wasn’t paying attention.

“A threat on the Crown Prince of Adarlan’s life.” Lorcan’s tone lacked inflection. He could have been talking about the weather.

“I’m all for preventing an assassination, but we’re the Terrasen military. Why are we getting sent in for this?” Vaughan had a point. A good one, too. Not that any of them were really complaining. Going back to civilization would be a damn vacation for them, the boys more than Aelin. She hadn’t been hiding in a shack in the desert for the last four months.

“Because all signs point to it happening at the summer ball, and our President, along with a dozen high-ranking officials from our government, will be in attendance. Preventing the Prince’s assassination will save their lives, too.” Everyone murmured their agreement. “We don’t know where it came from, though. Our source is unclear on that, which will be the trickier part. All signs point to it being an inside job right now because things have been intense between the king and his oldest son.”

“Dorian has been speaking out against a lot of his father’s policies. The king can’t do damage control fast enough. It was all over the papers when I was in Orynth last month. As quickly as the king puts out one fire, Dorian starts another. ‘Inside sources,’” Aelin added air quotes with her fingers for emphasis, “Claim that the king is getting really fed up. It’s causing a lot of unrest and protests among the people. More of them seem to agree with the prince than the king. It would make sense for it to be his doing.”

“That,” Fenrys drawled, holding one finger, “Is fucked up.”

“It is,” Aelin agreed. “But things have always appeared to be rocky between them.”

“We’ll be going undercover for a while. Adarlan’s government isn’t asking for assistance on the issue, probably because they’re starting it to begin with. But we aren’t willing to risk their version of ‘taking care of things.’ And if it comes down to it, President Galathynius–” Lorcan’s eyes shot to Aelin when mentioning her uncle, “–would rather save the prince’s life and risk tension with Adarlan over it.”

“Considering the King of Adarlan is a sexist, racist piece of shit, I don’t blame him,” Connall mused, letting his hair out of the bun it had been in since Aelin arrived. She agreed with her uncle. Dorian did as much as he could as a prince, but as king… He would pave the way to a better world.

“Do we have covers yet?” Rowan leaned forward, reaching for the stack of papers Lorcan had presented to them. As he sifted through them, Aelin noticed the commander’s face getting tighter with every page Rowan skimmed. Her brow furrowed as she looked over her ex-boyfriend’s broad shoulder.

“You two…” Lorcan hesitated. Almost like he was dreading the news he was about to bestow upon them. “The four of us will be blending in with the commoners. Our base will be a large manor set far enough out that nobody will notice we all congregate together.”

Beside her, Rowan went utterly rigid. If she thought he was tense before, it was nothing compared to now. The tendons in his neck were ready to snap. She swore she could see his pulse pounding in his neck as a vein protruded in the center of his forehead.

“No,” Rowan said, shaking his head and throwing the papers on the table. Confused, Aelin snatched them up to read them herself. Fenrys leaned in to read along with her, one of his fingers tracing down the edge of the page.

“It wasn’t my call,” Lorcan said defensively, right as her eyes landed on the incriminating words that had Rowan’s body taut as a bowstring.

“This better be a fucking joke,” she spat, pushing out of her chair and rising to her feet. It had to be a joke, a prank, a hazing for joining their stupid little boyband. The harsh lines on her commander’s face said it was anything but. “Married? Out of all five of you to make me pretend to be married to, it’s Rowan that gets picked?”

“We don’t know how dangerous of a situation we’re walking into.” Lorcan tried to sound calm, but his eyes darted between the former couple like they might burn down the world out of spite. Aelin was considering it. “Rowan is the best of us at hand-to-hand combat should you ever need the defense–”

“I can fight for myself. I can protect myself. Fenrys could protect me just as well as Rowan if that were truly a concern.” It was risky to shout at her commander so much, especially on her first day, but Aelin was just past the point of caring. Every fuck she might be able to give was caught in a tornado of sand, plowing through the desert in the complete opposite direction.

“You know better than anyone that Rowan has skill sets that would work well while masquerading as a Duke, just like you do for being a Duchess. Fenrys is too loud-mouthed, and the other two lack the general composure to pretend to be royal. Rowan always has the quiet, dignified mask in his back pocket. He can talk his way out of–”

“I don’t care,” she hissed, taking several steps from the table.

“Ace…” Fenrys said quietly, leaning back in his chair to grab her hand. “Lorcan has a point.”

“I know he does.” Aelin’s voice was muffled while she rubbed at her face. Nobody objected or disagreed with Lorcan’s mild insults because it was the truth. Sometimes, Fen didn’t know when to shut up, and while Vaughan and Connall could easily look the part, they were missing something that Rowan just had naturally.

When he walked into a room, he carried himself like he was important. Unlike typical royals, it wasn’t because he was looking down his nose at anyone but because he almost commanded respect from everyone. Rowan, as a royal, wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. Aelin knew that. She just wished she had more of a heads-up before getting thrown into something that hit a little too close to home where their former relationship was concerned.

“I’m sorry for yelling.” Her eyes met Lorcan’s, and he shrugged. Now was not the time for him to assume she couldn’t do her job because she was an emotional woman. It was sexist bullshit, to begin with, but her time in the military told her it’s what they all thought of the women. No matter how hard they trained or how many times they proved themselves, women were silly, emotional creatures that couldn’t handle anything.

“I expected it. I know it won’t be easy for either of you.” Aelin couldn’t hide the surprise on her face. Not the raised brows or the way her mouth parted at his words. Maybe she undersold him. Just a little. “Rowan?”

“Yeah.” The word was flat. Seeing his face wasn’t necessary to know his eyes were probably as vacant as he sounded.

“Can you handle it?”

“Don’t really have a choice, do I?”

No, they didn’t have a choice, but if it would save multiple lives, they would manage. Their tumultuous past would stay where it belonged when they were in public and doing their jobs. Maybe they would even find a way to be civil by the end of it. There was also the possibility of everything going up in flames, one violent explosion at a time until everything was burned and nobody was marked safe from the fallout.

Aelin really wasn’t sure which one it would be.

@elentiyawhitethorn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294 @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @backtobl4ck @shyvioletcat @bellasbookboyfriends @icantfindmychashma

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brehaaorgana · 2 months ago

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Okay so the op turned off reblogs and I'll just reply to this response from @lastoneout:

I'm gonna answer these after I eat and my pain meds kick in and I can think again(and sit at my desk so I can do research) but hey, just a note at first, if I am legit wrong about some or all of this(despite the fact that I have done loads of research on ADHD) could you not have just corrected me without the condescending "questions" that imply that I'm an idiot? I don't think my initial addition was snobby or mean or justifies talking to me like this. I'm down to learn more, I love learning and I don't want to spread misinfo especially about my own health conditions, but this is just mean. Like that's it, you're just being mean rn for no reason. Immediately assuming the worst and being a jerk to the person you're trying to educate so that they feel as stupid as possible is the worst way to open a dialog and usually just results in said person doubling down and refusing to listen to you ever again. It's really unhelpful.

Let me try to be fair in how I respond. I will acknowledge I was being pointed in my questions.

First:

I don't think my initial addition was snobby or mean or justifies talking to me like this

Your response was "mean" in a variety of ways.

Your initial addition indirectly stated that people suffering from addiction aren't disabled or dealing with a significant medical illness

You implied heavily that there are good but "tragic" addicts and annoying/bad "deplorable" addicts. You basically divided people suffering from addiction as "people who became addicts because the government/medical system failed them, and that could kill them, which is a tragedy," and "people who became addicts because they're bad people who took drugs recreationally and therefore made my life harder." I am not saying this is exactly what you actually said. I am saying these are the implications of the things you were saying.

You made assertive, definitive statements about stimulant medications, ADHD, and addiction which were variously: factually untrue, misleading, ableist, or just callous towards people suffering with addictions.

So I didn't really feel like your post response was lacking in meanness. You were very obviously being mean about people whose addictions you see as being a problem and an inconvenience to you, specifically. Because their addiction comes from the terrible, unsympathetic place of "wanting to have fun," according to your all-knowing understanding of literally every person's journey to becoming addicted to stimulants.

Basically I think I was snarky and it was obvious and I own that I was being snarky. I'll admit this. Yes, I was being snarky. I was also being direct and honest about it.

In return, I ask that you consider that what you were saying was absolutely being condescending and mean towards people struggling with addiction, and that you didn't think about how you were being mean/condescending/ableist because you weren't really thinking about addicts as people struggling with an illness. It was easier for you to be callous and dismissive towards the invisible strawman "bad addicts," and to direct your anger at other people who are suffering than to simply not do that.

I have done loads of research on ADHD

Lots of people have. Certainly lots of us with ADHD have researched our own disorder.

But when you confidently assert things that are just absolutely incorrect, or which imply things that aren't true, or are pseudo-scientific, people are going to say something about it.

And look I'll lay it out: I got a D in high school chemistry. I *know* I am bad at chemistry, I struggle with the math involved, and I barely passed that class. I am confident there is a lot of shit I'm very ignorant about when it comes to medications, how they work, and pharmaceutical chemistry.

So if it helps: I am not actually the smartest person ever, and especially not when it comes to drugs.

Another example: this weekend I saw a man constantly puking in a trash can in NYC. I have a phobia around vomiting, and it's a major anxiety trigger for me that I would "catch" a sickness like that. so I decided to shut up my anxiety that I would catch the barfing from half a block away, by googling "illegal drugs which cause vomiting." (The logic was that if this guy was vomiting from taking drugs, I couldn't POSSIBLY catch a horrific viral vomiting disease from him. I was trying to give my irrational anxiety a reason why people might barf for non-contagious reasons.)

Anyways my results were like "people abusing opioids can experience intense repeated vomiting." And I went "wow I had No clue!!! I NEVER THOUGHT OF THIS." And then I remembered that when I got my wisdom teeth removed I was prescribed opioid painkillers AND anti-emetics because the painkillers usually cause nausea. And I needed those anti-emetics when I took the painkillers.

Basically i didn't realize this very obvious thing about illegal drug use side effects despite having taken legally prescribed drugs in the same class because I'm pretty ignorant about recreational drug use, addiction, etc.

I say all this to say "not knowing things is normal and I also don't know things or am ignorant about things."

Idk if that makes you feel better or not but in the interest of confirming I am not like, trying to imply that *I* am the smartest person in the room.

That all said, my snark here increased with the amount of "this-is-factual confidence" you were using.

Some of the specifics, less snark:

You said people with ADHD can't get addicted to prescription stimulants but *do* get addicted to meth. Either we can get addicted to amphetamine stimulants, or we can't. (We can.)

Prescription Stimulants for ADHD are often amphetamines of some kind, just like meth is an amphetamine drug.

Some people with SUDs (substance use disorders) receive ADHD treatment with non-stimulant medications because of the addiction risk

People with ADHD can absolutely abuse in order to get high, or get addicted to appropriately prescribed stimulant medications. Even accidental overdosing of your stimulant medication would produce some of these side effects.

Methamphetamine can be legally prescribed in the US, btw.

ALL medications can have dangerous, unpleasant, or even deadly side effects. Adderall, Ritalin, etc do not have "no risks" and I am serious that if your doctor isn't talking to you about side effects, health impacts, interactions with other drugs, etc, then you need to ask them what you should monitor, or get a new doctor. One of my coworkers had to stop taking prescription Adderall because she had a heart attack under the age of 40. All medications have measured risks and things you should be aware of and to watch out for.

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cryptidsurveys · 8 months ago

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Wednesday, September 11th, 2024.

Which fictional character can you not stand? There aren't any that I can't stand. I can't even think of a character that just really annoys me. I mean, some can be annoying (or snooty, manipulative, backstabbing, or whatever), but in the context of the story, it's fine.

What was the one subject in school that frustrated you because you just couldn’t process it? Math. I was okay at Algebra and Geometry, but once I reached Algebra II/Trig, my understanding of core concepts wasn't strong enough to carry me any further.

What’s the weirdest compliment you’ve ever gotten? I don't think I've ever received an especially weird compliment.

What is an occupation that you would like to do just for one day if you had the chance? I wouldn't want to actually do the job, but I think it would be interesting to shadow someone in nursing. I've just heard so many horror stories that it's become like a morbid fascination.

What do you think people have an unnecessary stick up their ass about? Anything and everything. Pretty much whatever subject you look into, there will be someone there with a stick up their ass about something.

What common advice do you think never works? Idk but lately I've felt stuck between "just ignore it" and "speak up." Neither option has produced satisfactory results so far, so maybe it's time to break out of the binary and try something completely chaotic and unexpected. ;D

What’s the best movie without a happy ending? I'm not sure.

What is something you think is actually better about today’s generation? This obviously isn't true everywhere, but overall living conditions, medical and technological advancements, transportation, access to information and communication, etc. Some of those things can be a double-edged sword or have certain pitfalls, but you know. Probably better than being a peasant in the Dark Ages. But if we're talking about people specifically, then…hmm. People are people wherever you go.

What movie has a worse love story than Twilight? I'm not much of a movie watcher, but I'm sure there are far worse love stories than Twilight.

What seems obvious to you that doesn’t seem to be for other people? That "the government" isn't hiding any aliens.

If your partner in the zombie apocalypse was the main character of the last movie you watched, would you survive? The last movie I watched was Inside Out 2, so unless the little emotion avatars in that teen girl's head can pull some seriously lucky levers, we're fvcked.

What’s the worst episode of your favorite TV show? I don't have a favorite TV show.

You can pick two artists to do a song together, dead or alive, but they have to be from different genres. Who do you pick and why? I can't think of any particular artists, but as far as genres go, maybe some heavenly and numinous choir music merged with some dark and gritty rap/hip-hop. It has potential okay!!!

What is something you would never buy again, even if you were rich? A house (or cabin or apartment or whatever) with carpet. If I could live somewhere with exclusively wood or tiled flooring, I would be so happy. Carpets are just gross.

What do you do regularly despite it being considered very unhealthy or unsafe? Smoke cigarettes.

What is something that most people find attractive in a person that you find unattractive? I can't think of anything that I find unattractive, but there are common beauty standards that are just like…eh. They don't do it for me.

Do you ever use facial masks or scrubs? I've used facial masks a few times. I don't think I've ever used a scrub, though.

What do you think of the recent trend of adult coloring books? I don't have an opinion regarding the trend as a whole. They're nice as a concept and I do own a couple of them, but I just don't have the patience.

Which fictional character do you think you’d be great friends with? I have no idea.

What would you do if you found out your toys came to life similar to Toy Story? Probably go through something like the 5 Stages of Grief, but with way more emotions. Fear, horror, sadness, guilt, embarrassment, confusion…

Do you own any cook books? We have quite a few. But do I ever use them? No.

Is there anything that you’d like to eat right now? I'm not all that hungry, but cashew chicken, fried rice, and cream cheese wontons sounds good.

What book are you currently reading? A Short History Of The World by H. G. Wells.

What is something that you believe in, but aren’t very outspoken about? I'm not very outspoken about any of my beliefs. I'm just not an openly opinionated person. I like to feel people out before getting into any kind of discussion because I'm not someone who enjoys confrontation or debate.

do you think weird it’s for someone to have never tried soda? I guess it would depend on where they lived. If they were in the US, then I would think it was…if not weird, then highly uncommon.

is there any foreign film you recommend? Naw.

do you have the same religious beliefs as your parents? There are definitely some overlaps. My dad is Jewish and my mom is what I would call casually spiritual. If you made a Venn Diagram of their truest beliefs, then I would probably fall somewhere in the middle. Then there are my own interpretations and understandings which expand into territory beyond either one of them. Overall, though, I think I have more in common with my dad because he's a deep diver within his own religion, and religion and spirituality are topics that interest me. We can have some really great discussions on the matter.

which floor of your house/building are you on now? I'm on the second floor.

are there any maps hanging in your room? No.

are you often a third wheel? or is someone a third wheel to you? I felt like that for the longest time at the animal shelter. I knew people generally liked and appreciated me, but I wasn't really fitting in. However, I don't feel that way as much now, not with the new batch of workers back in cattery. I'm still kind of third-wheely (because I'm shy/socially awkward and also a good deal older than they are), but not to the same drastic extent. I feel much more included, relevant, and free to be my silly and sarcastic self. I had it in my head that the problem might be me (and admittedly, some of it probably was and I do still have some work to do), but now it's like…oh. I was likeable the whole time?!?!

what’s the last dvd you bought? I'm not sure.

tell me about your favorite pair of jeans. I don't have a favorite pair of jeans. I basically don't even wear them anymore.

would you ride a motorcycle if given the chance? (or have you?) I've been on the back of one a few times, but I don't think I would like to ride one myself. Driving a car is enough responsibility for me.

is your hair healthy? Ehhh.

if a hotel offered free breakfast in bed, what would you order? I'd go all out. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, biscuits, maybe some fruit, coffee…

how often do you take a train? Aside from the kiddie train at the city park, I don't think I've ever been on a train. I might have gone on the one at the Royal Gorge, but I can't be certain that's a real memory and not some false recollection I settled on after the fact.

what’s your favorite led zeppelin song? Kashmir.

does your home have a balcony/deck/porch? We have a back deck and a front porch.

what does your closet/wardrobe say about you? That I spend a lot of time at an animal shelter. Probably half of my shit is animal shelter shit.

do you enjoy theatre? I don't not enjoy it. It's just not really my thing. I wouldn't want to be in a play, but I would probably go see one with someone if they wanted me to.

how would you feel about traveling abroad alone? Scared, unprepared, inexperienced, lonely, bored…like I had so much to share and no one to share it with. I'd much rather travel with someone.

who would you call a lyrical genius? Idk.

how do you treat yourself? It's time to make dinner, so I'm going to pause this here (9.10.24) and resume it sometime tomorrow… Okay. I just arrived home from a trip to the Mountain Park - which is one of the ways I plan on treating myself this autumn. I feel like I've spread myself too thin with volunteering, so I'm going to take a step back, take an extra day off here and there, and spend more time in the mountains with my dad. Other ways I treat myself include eating fun/favorite foods (so excited for holiday treats!), making time for art, and curling up in bed with my kitties and some YouTube.

do you have an interesting passport? I don't have a passport.

are you going to pursue a career according to what you enjoy? Yeah.

what’s your favorite frozen treat? Ice cream. You know what else I've been enjoying lately? Otter Pops. They're not typically something I would think to eat, but they're great for hot afternoons at the shelter when I need a quick chill out/sugar rush combo.

who supports you financially? Social security and my dad. We share our incomes.

if you wanted to go to the movie cinema, how would you get there? I would drive (or be driven).

how many pillows are on your bed? Two regular pillows, three body pillows, and two decorative pillows.

would you pay more for organic food? I might if I preferred the taste of a certain brand, but otherwise it's not something I pay much attention to.

do you prefer being awake after everyone goes to bed or before they get up? I don't really have a preference.

do you know much about feng shui? (do you use it?) I know very little, and no, I don't use it.

how would you make friends in a quiet class? Make meaningful eye contact? Lmao heck if I know. I'm quiet myself, so if other people are quiet, then it's just gonna be quiet.

are you generally a quick learner? Yeah.

what’s your favorite spot to read? At my computer desk.

did you know that buddha is not considered a god to buddhists? I was aware of that.

do you save tickets from movies, etc.? Not really.

without looking him up, who was jim morrison? The vocalist for The Doors.

when’s the last time your bedroom was painted/wallpapered? Gosh, idk. As far as painting goes, that would have been years and years ago. It wasn't even finished. As for the wallpaper, that was put up before we moved in.

teach me something in another language. Naw.

what type of music do you like and why? I've developed a fondness for classical over the past couple of years.

if you randomly want to eat something in the house, do you eat it or wait? It depends on what it is, what I've already eaten, how close it is to meal/snack time, etc.

who knows the most about you (besides yourself)? My dad.

do you have a nervous habit? (e.g. biting nails, tapping feet, smoking) Picking at my nails.

how’s your favorite pro sports team doing lately? I don't follow any sports teams.

would you be/are you a good role model to a younger sibling? No.

#survey #surveys #personal survey #random survey #survey blog

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oswaldsleftbicep · 1 year ago

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headcanos for the college life of the boys, pls?😭 (+ what their major would be)

college life

,,,,,anon are you in my head?? i shit you not, this exact scenario has been sitting in my notes app for like a month jskdfnkjs that being said, this will all be based off my own experiences with american universities

i'm actually looking to go back to college! i reapplied for my university, and also applied to another just in case, but i'm anxious to get back to it

lots of changes have been happening lately.

genre: other, crack if you squint

cw: language, no beta we die like men

Lucia

❧ most definitely majors in business or communications, but minors in political science (polisci)

❧ he joined a frat as a first year, got a little freaked out over the hazing part but was in too deep to back out, so he stuck it out

❧ idk how frats work, but he ended up becoming a big to a few freshies in his later years :,)

❧ does debate club/moot court as an extracurricular and comes up with the most bullshit arguments that,, surprisingly make sense

❧ since he has the means and the will, he goes to grad school for his masters degree but goes for something more to do with law or criminal justice, having been inspired by moot court

❧ however, he doesn't go for a phd and doesn't go to law school or anything, settling for a job in local government

Levy

❧ starts out as a regular history major, but by his second year he changes it to specifically military history, with a minor in medieval and early modern studies (mems)

❧ spends most of his time in the history building or at the campus library, where he has a part time job, but he also made it a point to join the university's polo team. anytime he's stress out about something, he'll go and care for the horses

❧ makes regular appointments with his advisor, but they became so frequent that the two of them end up getting coffee once a month and to catch up

❧ most definitely is on the dean's list and graduates with high honors

❧ starts being a ta in the second semester of his third year, and does it every semester following. he's the sort of ta that you either find annoying and insufferable, or you have a massive crush on

❧ goes on to get his masters and phd in military history, concentrating in some probably really obscure period of time

Mefy

❧ kinda a mix between his brothers, he's a polisci and mems double major; he couldn't pick which he liked more so he double majored instead of making one a minor

❧ out of curiosity, he went to go see the theater department's production of the iliad and was enamored at the idea of putting on shows of ancient stories and plays, so he took it on as an extracurricular

❧ he tries to keep his newfound hobby a secret from his brothers, but they eventually find out and come to every one of his shows :,)

❧ he does well in class and participates enough so that the profs all know him by name and are fond of him, but mefy secretly hates most of them, save for his war history prof and the theater director

❧ carried on to grad school, focusing on the politics of war in early and medieval times, but doesn't pursue more than a masters

Oswald

❧ started out as a geography and environmental science (ges) major, but unintentionally selected the bachelor of science path instead of the bachelor of arts path

❧ cue his horror when he sees that he has to take not just bio, but math up to calculus and physics

❧ he tries to push through, he really does, and he comes to enjoy a good chunk of his sciencey classes,,, but eventually it was too much, and he brought it up to his advisor, who suggested to switch to a ba, and poor mans was like "a what??"

❧ but he's doing much better now as a ba, and discovered a new passion for environmental justice!!

❧ got a job working with the campus maintenance crew and helps take care of the landscaping; he also joins the environmental club which helps keep the campus clean and safe, and they also get to work in the compost gardens!

❧ he unfortunately wasn't able to consider grad school due to funding, but with the help of his advisor, he was able to get a certificate and an internship in agriculture!

Kaim

❧ ok it's so hard to imagine this man in college,, he just seems so old to me lol

❧ but we can all agree he most definitely attended an ivy league school, majoring in music and joining the campus orchestra

❧ he also found interest in the culinary program and got a little job with the campus event catering staff to help prepare the food and serve guests at fancy events, and he stuck with it for so long that he became part of their management!

❧ his experience with that job lead him to discover that his university offers a hospitality studies program, and he got his certificate in that

❧ he was also absolutely an ra and enforced his rules so much that he had to be moved to a majority upperclassmen hall because all the freshies loathed him and kept asking admin to change dorm halls lol

❧ got really good grades and made the deans list, and actually got scholarship money to go to grad school, but he just simply didn't want to and was content with his bachelors degree

Mikael

❧ he majored in astronomy, with a minor in linguistics and ancient studies. he originally planned to major in astrophysics, but upon realizing just how much math would be involved, he was repulsed and settled for astronomy

❧ it's not that he can't do math, he very much knows how to and he's incredibly intelligent, he simply just doesn't want to do it lol

❧ he's sort of an enigma on campus, he's got this otherworldly air about him, like he's not from this time; whether that means he's a visitor from the past or future is up to interpretation, but it intimidates the hell out of everyone else that he's mostly left alone

❧ he attends all of the ancient studies and mems events, and he's also in the astronomy club; in fact, he's one of the only members of his club to attend every single meeting without fail, no matter how late in the night it is

❧ attends grad school and gets his masters in ancient linguistics, and later focuses on how ancient civilizations interpreted astronomy and how it affected their culture, which earns him his phd

❧ rubs his phd in lucia's face at any chance he gets, practically forces the man to call him dr. mikael

Ricardo

❧ tried his hardest to pick the easiest major, but none of the classes were interesting to him and his advisor all but begged this man to pick something he's actually interested in; so now he's a war history major lol

❧ he also joins a frat, influenced by media's portrayal of them and assuming that he's gonna party every night and get loads of bodies; however, he doesn't realize that he actually needs to keep a certain gpa to stay in the frat, and that he has rules he needs to follow, so he almost gets kicked out several times

❧ he shapes up pretty well by his second year, which is also when he looks into volunteering with campus police and eventually gets a part time job with them

❧ he does manage to graduate on time, and is more than content with just his bachelors; he told his advisor he'd rather shove a gun up his ass than go to grad school

❧ his advisor, along with all of his profs hated him, and are so happy to see him gone

Noel

❧ surprisingly, he majors in biology and is on the premed track for pharmaceuticals; he has an interest in the medical field, but doesn't want to be a doctor or nurse, so he figured working in a pharmacy or even making medicine would be the way to go

❧ also surprisingly, he's like really good at the more difficult subjects, like organic chemistry. he's flying through the work during discussions, to which his partners are all like "???? teach us???"

❧ unfortunately, he is not a good teacher. he knows the content, he really does, but he cannot for the life of him understand how he got there. "you just,,, do it? like write it all down, and convert it and you're done" i've never taken orgo

❧ it got to a point where the prof was convinced he was cheating, but when they tested him, he was even able to mental math that shit and he was left alone lol

❧ stumbled in on the cosmetology students working on their hair dressing, and was like "can i do that?", scaring the hell out of everyone when did he get here?? but they took him in and he helps them study and practice

❧ other than that, he spends his spare time hanging out in the wellness center or outdoor zen gardens, and he also joined the environmental club to help upkeep the gardens makes sure to hand the smelliest piles of compost to oswald

Lucas

❧ double majors in art history and literature, so he spends a lot of time in the humanities and fine arts buildings

❧ at least five people in all of his classes have a massive crush on him; he's just so pretty and smart and he reads??? awooga!! but most of those crushes dissipate once they try and have a conversation with him, they just can't follow along with his train of thought

❧ speaking of which, his profs either love him or hate him. he'll come up with the most bizarre and elaborate interpretations of texts and art and still somehow have solid reasons to back it up. anytime they have socratic style discussions in class, no one can follow up or argue when he speaks because,,, what the hell did he even just say?

❧ but every now and then, he'll break through to them all and say something that, one, makes sense and, two, is so though provoking and interesting that it leads into an hour long discussion and research party

❧ decided to be an ra in his second year, but ultimately stepped down by the end of that year due to stress. now it's like he did a full 180, breaking every rule he ever enforced, especially the curfew one. it's so common to spot him walking around campus at ungodly hours of the night that he's essentially become a sort of cryptid

❧ he uses his free time volunteering in community service and activism. anytime there's a protest on campus that supports a good cause, he's there the entire time. he'll also help organize events like that, passing around and posting flyers across campus

Kurt

❧ majors in zoology with a minor in environmental studies

❧ i keep picturing my physical geography prof who was so into birds, like a stupid amount, i think the two would get along well

❧ he starts a club that focuses on caring for campus wildlife and making a safe environment for them, be it picking up litter or putting up bird feeders

❧ he runs the campus shoot-your-shot page, and is surprisingly good and matching up submissions and helping people find their person

#absolutely projected in oswald's part lmao #my. hcs #nightmare harem #nightmare harem hcs #nightmare harem lucia #nightmare harem levy #nightmare harem mefy #nightmare harem oswald #nightmare harem kaim #nightmare harem mikael #nightmare harem ricardo #nightmare harem noel #nightmare harem lucas #nightmare harem kurt #otome games

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dumpster-of-the-lost-souls · 8 months ago

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More winx stuff!

I have been up all night last night with zero sleep and nearly fell asleep in math class earlier so apologies if this is not coherent in the slightest.

Again token shoutouts to @emsartwork @drops-of-moonlights @dragonflyxparodies for being the people that got me thinking about winx again. go look at their works!

I am dead serious about this, if I'm too annoying or you want me to stop pinging you just tell me to shut up.

This post is mostly about Diaspro

From her perspective she assumed Bloom was a witch and a gold digger assuming that she had spelled/charmed/hexed Sky into loving her. Sky didnt really do anything to support or refute those ideas. With the pitchman episode ending up making her double down on her bitterness and assumptions, since the pixies told her to focus on her kingdom and with the way that Eraklyeon is structured being a monarchy that is implied to be patriarchal and how Diaspro has been groomed to be Sky's fiancee, diasporas only real way she knows of that point of protecting and governing her kingdom is through marriage it makes sense in a roundabout way why she teamed up with Valtor.

Her plot was based on the assumption of Sky still being spelled/hexed and Diaspro was hoping to have Valtor's mark destabilize the hex while being destabilized by said hex enough that she could break both hexes without fairy dust which back fired on her and got her exiled.

Diaspro drifts through the Magix dimension for a while before the constant news articles about Bloom and the Winx gets to her so she decides to go to earth for some peace and quiet. She ends up on the east coast and is homeless for a while since she doesn't have an id and isn't able to purchase/rent a house or apartment. but she does have the ability to conjure gems to pawn off for money which allows her to pay for things in cash, this is what allows her to get her hands on a Van which she lives out of.

She travels around the west coast and the US for a while before making her way to Gardenia after doing some soul searching and introspection. She talks with Bloom's earth family and gets what they know from Bloom's perspective which makes her have some more introspection. At this point earth is aware of Magic and the Magix dimension allowing Diaspro to get an ID/passport/visa and she takes a job at the Love and Pet shop.

I'm probably going to talk more about this later but my brain is not cooperating with me right now.

#winx club au #winx diaspro

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starlingsrps · 1 year ago

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dorothea "dorey" mason, twenty five, code-breaker // au: at the end of the world

dorey is not nearly as much of a stick in the mud as she might appear but she does have resting bitchface and a very serious job so sometimes. but there is a war on.

dorey is a dorothea and she was raised comfortably middle class in clapham by people who were on the fringes of bohemia but went straight after having their first child, jessamine. bloomsbury turned into clapham, writing jobs turned into teaching and keeping house and as the children kept coming, the names became less bohemian. jessamine (34) was followed by caspian (33), then dorothea and then finally, exhausted, jane (23).

dorey is very glad she's not jessa or cas. dorey is enough.

dorey came along once her father had become principal of a boy's school in clapham and the only remnants of their bohemian past were a certain liberality in the education of their children and encouraging them to do whatever made them happy. jessa was and is a talented artist, cas breeds horses in ireland, jane is studying to become a doctor, and dorey does math for both fun and a living.

she was always the studious one in her family and if her parents stopped being able to make heads or tails of her math homework before she hit puberty, they were still supportive. she won a scholarship to newnham college at cambridge and holds a double first in mathematics (but no degree because fun fact cambridge didn't give those to women until 1948. no she's not holding a grudge!).

by the time she finished, the war had started and as absolutely no war jobs held much appeal to her (weak ankles, too many years in a library), she was recruited to the government code and cypher school and eventually moving to bletchley park. there were a few frustrating weeks where she was primarily doing clerical work before being assigned to hut six as a codebreaker on army and air force engima deciphering.

(and if i have to dip any deeper, i am above both my pay grade and intelligence level)

dorey is very good at her work and take a lot of pride in it. she's always enjoyed puzzles and there's nothing like the rush of breaking a code. she's been called to the war office a few times and while she knows she's not going to get any kind of major recognition for her work, the pride is what keeps her working.

make no mistake, that does not mean she's accepted it. like the denial of a full degree, the lack of recognition chafes at her. as a result, she sometimes take herself too seriously. she presents herself well, never a hair out of place and always keeps her composure. it takes a lot to ruffle her. she's determined and stubborn and does not do a task unless she can do it with her full attention.

despite all of this, she is tender deep down. she's very close to her family and stays with jessa when she's in london (clapham's too far from the war office). she keeps a steady correspondence with cas in ireland and jane in america and while she worries that she's doomed to be the maiden aunt, she knows that they'll always love her. she can be sweet and thoughtful when she isn't in her head but until the war is over: she's got work to do and that comes first always.

#c: dorey mason #verse: at the end of the world #my brainy lil bitch

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my-makeshift-masquerade · 2 years ago

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It All Comes Back to Haunt You (Part 3)

@glitchysquidd

(I am sorry, but the next chapter of Into the Breach will come next I swear… This will highlight some obvious plot-holes, include more characters, and other things… Aight let’s make shit hit the fucking fan.)

It was the first shift for her since Tim and Samantha hired her on. Rebecca was too worried to focus on work right now. Henry and Micheal had been…too okay…with the concept of her father being here. They were quiet. They were planning something, but what? Obviously the fire thing never happened, because she pointed out other innocent people were probably going to be in the building, but what else could they be thinking—

“Hey, kid, can I talk to you for a sec?”

The employee she had become fast friends with snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Sure, uh…” The teen mumbled, “Where’s Dave?”

“Uh. Fucking around somewhere, I dunno.”

“Okay…? W-what do you want to tal—“

“So… You are Rebecca Afton, right?”

She was taken aback by the question, but nodded slowly. It was a bad idea to trust this person with such information, but after keeping quiet for so long, Rebecca’s need for connection outweighed her sense of self preservation by a hair.

“I was up last night thinking, reviewing the true crime podcast… It just doesn’t line up.” Her coworker paused, “Not that I think you’re lying or anything since you look just like the kid they showed but…”

“Y-Yes…?” She was becoming more fearful with every second of silence.

“Your dad tried to kill you in like…1986… It’s 2023…” They stopped for a moment to double check their head math, “Forget calculating your actual age. You should be way older. How the hell do you look so…so…young?”

That was a very fair question, and she was honestly surprised how long it took even her father to do the fucking math here. He clearly knew what year it was, yet he didn’t comment on her supernaturally youthful appearance at all. Rebecca figured it wasn’t a detail he was analyzing right now. She realized she could only shrug in response to the inquiry…

“Yeah, I…I have no idea why I seem to be aging so…slowly…” The young looking woman admitted, “I was hoping to ask Charlie, but it is taking me a while to fix—“

“Who?”

“Oh, uh… Charlotte. She’s Henry Emily’s daughter… like the ring leader of the ghosts.” Rebecca said this far too casually, mixing flavoring into her water, “Yeah, she’s chill… Just—understandably protective of the others…”

“Sure, right… Then also… What happened to your dad? Do you even know?” Her coworker frowned, “Dave is in the springlock suit now so clearly whatever happened on the night he tried to off you didn’t like—kill him—“

Damn. They really are “balls deep in denial” as Micheal put it. Yet they seemed head over heels for her dad. She guessed pining for a serial killer grants amazing cognitive dissonance…

“Yeah…” Her voice trailed off, “Not sure on that one… Just glad it was over…”

“Sorry. Am I prying too much?”

“No, no… You aren’t the first. My whole upteenth highschool class found out and none of those idiots did the math… Those who did just think I’m a liar.” She laughed nervously, “I’m just… thinking about something myself…”

“Wait wait wait. How many times have you had to go through highschool?! That sounds like hell—“

“It is. Still look too young for college… But if we don’t want to be investigated I have to keep acting at the age I look…” She rolled her eyes, “Though the state aren’t competent enough to notice the same person going through their school system every other four years…”

“What if you stop faking and tell—“

“I end up in a government facility most likely…” She answered bluntly.

Her coworker snorted.

“It is a genuine fear of mine, really. It’s why Michael and I have to come back whenever a new thing related to the franchise pops up. If people knew the full truth…” She paused, “I bet even the ghosts in the suits would be in the same boat as me then…”

“…Oh.”

“Man… I’ve never told anyone this shit before… This feels…like a weight is off my shoulders…”

“You’ve been that isolated… Unable to tell the truth to anyone…For 30 years…?!”

“Yep. Just myself, Micheal, and…”

Rebecca stopped herself. Mikey was already pissed about the amount of information they had to disclose to this person due to the sheer fact “Dave” was in the equation. As much as she wanted to let it out, she’d get in trouble for mentioning another huge name for the brand.

“Sorry, I’m prone to oversharing…”

———

“Ms.Clair, I know you’re about to leave, but have you seen Mi—“

Rebecca grabbed from behind, making her panic on reflex, letting out a very childlike noise despite her biting her lips.

“Jason!” Clair scolded.

“What? I needed to get through the doorway.” Jason smirked at her, “Are you gonna come around here often or—“

“Yes… I-I work here?” Rebecca was autistic and oblivious to any sort of flirting. It seemed Jason was taking that as a bit of a challenge.

“Well, you like making it difficult, huh?”

“Making what difficult?” She was more confused than offended or creeped out, “W-was I really that much in the way? S-sorry—“

“It’s so easy to make you apologize.” Jason snickered, “It’s really cute how you get all flustered…”

The sound of inexplicable metal hitting the door made Jason jump.

“SHITSHITSHIT—“

He turned around, sighing in relief when Springtrap wasn’t standing behind him. It was just that guy with the weird skin condition holding a spare part.

“Man, don’t fucking scare me like that.” The shorter man growled, “Can’t you see we’re having a conversation?!”

“Oh? Want to try doing something about it?” Micheal asked with a threateningly casual tone that was eerily identical to Springtrap’s.

“Whatever. I’m fucking out of here.” Jason huffed, giving the younger figure one last concerned glance. “Good luck with that thing.”

“Bye…I guess?” Rebecca blinked as Jason and Clair left, before turning to her brother, “Mike, where have you been? It’s been an hour.”

“Oh, I was just on the phone.”

“For an hour?!”

“Had to deal with some things after the call.”

“What things?”

“Things.”

“Ugh! Stop being difficult—“

“No.” Her brother chuckled, messing up her hair, “You do realize that man was hitting on you, right?”

“Hold on. He was WHAT?!”

“There you two are.” Their coworker smiled, “I finally found Dave in his room, and I see you found—“

Rebecca punched her brother in the chest repeatedly, as he started horse-playing with her, leading her to giggle, “H-hey! Let go—“

“Nope… Sibling privilege.” Micheal had her in a headlock, finally letting her go as she managed to get a good hit on him, “Fuck—!”

“Ha!”

“Below the belt? Really?” He smirked.

“It’s not like you have anything valuable down there!” She snapped back, getting too caught up in playing with her brother to notice who just entered the establishment.

“Oh jeez… Would you crazy kids stop wrestling each other on the clock?”

Rebecca lost all of the color in her face hearing that voice. No. No no no. Henry was here?! But her father was here?! Oh shit… This was going to end so…so badly. What was Michael thinking?!

“Your hair’s all over the place, kiddo.” The man walked over and fixed it for her, as well as straightening her shirt, “There! Now if only your brother would stop messing it all up…”

“Heh… No promises.”

Unseen by everyone, Springtrap watched from the farthest end of the hallway Micheal had come from. He was absolutely seething. William had no idea that Rebecca ended up being taken in by Henry after his death. Seeing his former business partner fix his daughter’s hair in such a fatherly manner while she clearly seemed embarrassed by it was enough to make him want to strangle him. That bastard, that hypocrite.

Taking in his child after banishing him from his own company, stealing his work, and leaving him without a way to feed that same child and her older siblings back in the 80’s? Just who did Henry think he was?! Some savior?!

“Uh… Who is this?”

His daughter looked terrified as her coworker spoke up, but her expression turned to one of horrific dread as she noticed her father’s figure lurking at the end of the other hall.

“Oh, where are my manners?” The old man chuckled, patting Michael on the shoulder, “My name is Henry Emily. It’s a pleasure to—“

Rebecca couldn’t leave fast enough, passing her father on the way and dodging his attempt to stop her. Nope. No way. Not today. Not ever. She locked herself in the back room, prepared for all hell to break lose.

“My dad’s here isn’t he?” Charlie’s spirit asked, frowning sympathetically as the woman curled up against the wall just nodded.

“Stay in here… The others and I can try to scare him out…”

#frighteningly intriguing #bound to imagination #drabbles

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superstrijder00 · 2 years ago

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I'm not from the US so not one to one situation but yeah I feel this. My school didn't have a well-defined "gifted track" but essentially me (and my government case worker) had to get the school to make these special things. This resulted in a bunch of ideas that were nearly all half-baked and/or low effort attempts to get me off their tail until I was already nearly done with school.

In first year the people who were already good enough at English (non mother tongue for us) to be able to talk in it were given an improvised book club. Reading and finding the books was on our own time and our parents dime. I loved reading so for me it was no issue but realistically it was just extra work.

Year 2 they gave up on that and we got programming from someone doing an internship at our school. These were after school classes and the guy clearly didn't know how to teach programming to 12 year olds which is totally fair. We messed around with programming for a year, but then he left.

So in year 3 the school gave up and 2 different teachers just gave me a university textbook? One for maths and one for microbiology. The maths was terrible but I did actually enjoy reading the biology and then talking about it with my biology teacher after school. But importantly, what I was begging for was not this at all, it was to please let me stop having to make incredibly repetitive exercises for things like grammar and spelling.

In year 4 I was graciously allowed into the higher English course which supposedly was all about learning to talk and things like idioms, rather than these boring exercises... yeah it was more boring spelling and grammar exercises, and I still had to make the normal ones too for both English and Dutch. I refused to do the next level of that the next year.

Then in the semifinal year when I finally became competent enough to advocate for myself better, and decided no longer to put up with this, I got the school to let me finish some classes 1 year early. It meant roughly double work that year for those classes (since, again, you can't skip things you have demonstrated 10x you can do well. Thems the rules) but it left me with lots of free time in my last year that I could take actually interesting college courses in that actually *replaced* my normal classes rather than coming on top.

I think a lot of the skepticism and derision toward the idea of "gifted kid burnout" stems from the fact that a lot of folks have no idea what the gifted track in most high schools actually looks like; they've got this mental image, possibly informed by popular media depictions, of "gifted kids" as a privileged group of students who get to go on extra field trips, monopolise the teachers' attention in class, and constantly be told how special they are, but who are otherwise treated identically to all the other kids.

In practice, the gifted track in most high schools – most North American high schools, at any rate – has the same problem as any other educational program: the need to adhere to published metrics. These programs exist for the benefit of students only insofar as those benefits can empirically be measured, which leads to several common outcomes:

Students on the gifted track being afforded fewer choices regarding elective classes – often to the extent of having no choices at all – in order to stream the highest-performing students into the subjects that are most valuable in terms of boosting institutional metrics.

Students on the gifted tracking receiving restricted access to educational resources such as tutoring because it's perceived as a waste of funding. In many cases, gifted students are not only denied access to tutoring, but expected to serve as volunteer tutors and teaching assistants themselves, effectively becoming a source of unpaid educational labour for the schools they attend.

Students on the gifted track being assigned considerably more homework, often literally doubling their workload in an environment where homework loads are already routinely high enough that kids have difficulty finding time to eat and sleep, simply because you get more measurable academic performance data that way.

The upshot is that the gifted track is often less about fun perks and constant praise, and more about receiving less freedom, fewer resources, and heavier workloads than one's peers, getting strong-armed into providing unpaid labour to the school on top of it, and constantly being told one should be grateful for it – and that's without touching on the fact that the unspoken secondary purpose of many gifted programs is to serve as a quarantine for all the neurodivergent kids the school couldn't find an excuse to institutionalise or expel.

Like, shit, there's a reason kids on the gifted track exhibit elevated rates of alcoholism and substance abuse compared to general student populations. That doesn't arise in a vacuum!

(To be clear, I'm not saying that people graduating from high school and immediately having an existential crisis upon realising they're not special after all isn't a thing that happens, but in my experience that's more usually something that happens to the kids who were on the football team, and reframing it as a nerd culture thing is really weird.)

#education #gifted program #autism btw #that's what the case worker was for

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the-firebird69 · 8 months ago

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So the wage at first is not much and it went up from like 1250 to 1800 then to 2000 something and that was going from the Burgesses to the Colonial Congress to the Continental Congress and that Social Security our government money. And the rebels are said to be paying his wage anymore or less are and that's who's doing it next door. This money then increases at the Continental Congress and the stipend that goes with it the Colonial Congress stipend was not much money so the wage counts for a lot more than you think and JC was doubled from Colonial Congress to continental Congress and it was increased a lot it's not a regular cola you look at the cola number and it's very small.

We estimate the salary to be a representative for the Burgess is what he has started out as and that was in Virginia and it was a group of land owners and it kind of was surrounded by actual empire and it's in there **** him off saying the things they are to our son saying he's not worth anything having other people say it and you got really mad and they wanted him to and they're trying to express they control everything by pestering people like this doesn't mean much unless they stick to their schedule and that's what he tells us in the way they want so we are on it and he was making about $1.50 a day and he earned it because he's fighting for the people there and they were there so they had some duplicity but not much but back then they needed to then he went into the Colonial Congress that was around 1758 so we can calculate the increase a little bit from $1.50 our son went from around 12150 to 1800 it's not a huge increase so it would be up to about $1.95. Then it transferred into the Continental Congress which was actually a different structure than the Colonial Congress who were considered to be quite stingy in 1789 it's the only number we can get that was after the Revolutionary War they gave himself some money for a good job and to try and continue by being liquid. And $6 an hour at the time so if you increased by one 3rd because that's a high number $1.95. you would get $2.53 an hour and thus the the increase is reflected a little in several increases that Social Security provided. It came when he joined up the Continental Congress . But that was before the Continental Congress which would be October 26. The increase from Colonial Congress to continental Congress would be significant it's more than a third it's more like 50%. Increase of $2.53 is $3.80. So you take 50% of 253 and add it to 253. And what you get is the $3.80. Now that was his hourly wage if you multiply that times 8 roughly times 5 their work day was about that roughly* 52 you get about $7900. And in today's money regarding inflation And that's about$2.5 million or something and it works out to exactly$322,709 and you add inflation of 1.5% per year and it's kind of high so I brought it to 2.5 million. Is an average of about 1.35%. And $2.5 million you would have to divide by 12$208,000 which doesn't make sense. So you have to work it the other way And the other way is 50% increase now that's not that hard Everybody interrupts i'm doing math so that comes out to $3300 and it's Camilla interrupting and it was not Benedict Donald who passed away to provide the money at the Continental pay rate raise.. Now there would be a significant salary raise yes and it would go up and he calculates that it's roughly going to be a $1200 ad and it comes down to $1100 when you account for the cola roughly plus or minus only a few dollars. It is because of the Raise at the Continental Congress which occurs this year. We do think that it is the missing. Of time that they will pay cause he sent it in and it's about $17,000 and that won't last long About a year and a month or two but it's an increase and it's derived by the Mac proper and us some of the rebels and foreigners. There were several increases during the burgeoness and during the colonial Congress there were some increases and there will be during the Continental Congress. During the Continental Congress it begins in around May and April it gets to be ridiculously huge they raise it when he becomes a general. It goes up about 40%. So that's 3300 ish spin 4 what's oh it's no 40% or that would be about$4700 a month in April Which really only amounts to almost $60,000 a year but it's almost 2.7 times as much as he making now

And it's a lot better but it's not permanent income they're just it's just money that comes from what they owe him. And it's abysmal however he is making money from his own businesses while this is going on the empire proper are ordering stuff from us and they usually have the Pseudo Empire pay and they are going to do that and they're ordering a lot of booze. And not from Bud bush mich miller but they're ordering tons of it from other companies

There's other products and things parts and so forth and even though they don't want it they pay a stipend. And they calculate it and they send money that he's owed and they send the money down here and have these guys move it by destroying each other and they haven't paid and they calculate how much to pay by a certain level job he supposedly has and they're ridiculous anybody in his position would know what to do. But yeah they're crazy he's transported we have probably a 40% of the lower level beers and they call them that but there's still fairly decent quality and that is probably 1/8 of the higher level beers but still that is a huge amount of beer and they're giving him minute amounts of money for it it's really gross he did a lot of work and it's really really gross and we're going to try and increase it it's a small percentage it's a many billions of dollars or more and for this month it was a very big month probably only about $500 and he says that it accounts for a portion of the or a segment of the economy it's so big and that's a teeny bit of money it's a percentage and it's a percent of 10% no it's less than that but it's a lot of money and it's a lot of stuff so we are complaining and it's not good but there are other things that they are talking about doing and he's doing it globally right now their orders are in for more booze and that's what George was doing and they don't pay much because they know what he's trying to do and the orders are twice as much as what they were before increasing the amount of alcohol we're making for those companies to 80% and they hope to shut it down and take all of the market share by having us do it and or take it by force in the Midwest so it's a question the question comes up if that's happening now I don't have to be a general to understand that my brother was making money before he was a general and he was in Virginia probably selling tobacco And it comes to reason that he had other businesses and was doing well and our son is doing other businesses other than what he did and it's going to change then they say they'll shift the responsibility over and he says no you want or shift it over on you and yeah you have an address and you have your one brain and one body each and they dont get it their lives fall off daily lots of them higehr ups too and they push it all day allnight poverty is no fun you ditios nd we treat you as such...and yeh ok you yeleled scramed and more. so you deal wth it.

There will be more money because of other things he's doing and they do agree to do that is to try and implicate him and try to motivate themselves and our son says that you're really not doing much which is good and you enjoy them being associated in social and so on and so on. but really from tobacco growth we have grown enough tobacco to supply the United States for a week ourselves and we only started last month and we probably have about 120th of the market of the globe which is gigantic by the way come to think of it that's very huge we're going to take over the marijuana industry and we have about 30% of the automobile industry and soon will have about 70% and the Mac proper are going to have to do something they're not all in the bunkers even though those bunkers are huge it's about 45% of them and they're losing people and they're losing territory and losing power and they can't afford to sit around making soap it's funny. And the reason why we say we'll have 70% of the automobile industry is because we'll be producing most of the parts as almost none of you can get together on it and we have to do that. More shortly

Thor Freya

Olympus

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and now pls Proxima Midnight Lobo

oltos of uslots and Uriel and Goddess Wife good

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