#v2: i want to study you all like ants

[cherubchoirs]

Considering how much Uriel writes? Would he be able to shift his form in any way to help aid with that? Like could he give himself extra arms if he so desired?

I wonder how v1 and v2 would react to that sort of thing first time…

(see this!)

uriel actually has four arms naturally! they are all constantly writing in a way that seems...pretty unusual, as they are all recording different things and writing on disparate sections of the paper that all come together in the end. he could definitely add extras in case he needs it though, because while he's gotten incredibly adept at recording everything, sometimes SO many things are happening at once he needs a couple more pairs of hands on board. these would act as "ghost" writers, as there's only so much room on his actual book and four hands crowd it enough, so the extras copy down onto ghost pages that are retroactively added into his current volume. that's...when ppl know they shouldn't talk to him lol

v1 would absolutely LOVE that he has four arms, because it has that too (five even, with its gold arm)!!! it's a surprise when he first shows off his "extra" pair, as they are often hidden now since he has so little work for his hands (they feel superfluous now) it showed off its arms to him then, and i think it's so cute to imagine that uriel makes himself one more to match v1's five and it's delighted on how they match lol v2 is ever interested in how angels work, comparing his ghost arm to the others, as well as taking an interest in what his anatomy must look like - with their wings being light constructs, there's no corresponding muscle, but since these are flesh they must play by some anatomical rules. unfortunately, uriel is far too shy to sate its curiosity, but it still finds it fascinating that uriel has such an obvious asymmetry compared to the other three.

[brw]

Could I get a Hank Pym reading list? Please and thank you.

Hello & of course! I've written a few different reading lists in my time but I'll make an updated one for ease of access & such!

Avenger Origins: Ant-Man & the Wasp – a really good origin interpretation with Stephanie Hans on art.

Age of Ultron #10 – you can read the whole event if you want but to be honest Hank isn't actually in it that much except Wolverine stabs him or whatever. It goes through his childhood & background & marks the beginning of what I imagine was a very ambitious plan by Waid but then Remender happened. Still, a formative comic for Hank & one of my all time single issues of anything ever.

Ant-Man: Season One - another origin of Hank, going towards his growth to being Ant-Man. This isn't technically canon I don't think, but it's super interesting as it very clearly & explicitly intends to depict Hank as a mentally ill man & does so fairly well? Plus Bill Foster is there & I love Bill Foster.

Tales to Astonish #27, #35 - #52 – these are Hank's Tales to Astonish issues, you obviously don't have to read every single one but I really enjoy them, they're super serialised so you can read every issue as a stand-alone which makes it incredibly rereadable for me. Hank does keep appearing in those issues up until #70 so you can keep reading but at that point he's having a lot of team ups and ends up only being in like half the issue.

Fantastic Four #16 - #17 – this is more FF based obviously, but I enjoy it and find it cute as a two-parter. Establishes his relationship with the FF & begins my headcanon that he joined ReedSue once as a third.

Thor: the Mighty Avenger #3 – this is set in the Tales to Astonish days & is quite fun! Hank & Janet & Thor get into some shenanigans & it's good going. Samnee who draws really likes Hank & Jan & it shows a lot in this issue. Hank explicably uses his helmet to control a police officer which he has never done before or since, which I think is a cool application & he should do it again.

Marvel Feature #4 - #11 (I think) – this was an attempt at recreating the Tales to Astonish success but kinda failed, but it's cute & I really like it as a weird obscure story. Hank has a hyperintelligent super dog that Janet got him which was fun. It's chaotic and at one point Janet is a mutant wasp who tries to eat Hank don't worry about it. But it is good.

Now, obviously he has a lot of appearances in Avengers V1 & WCA V2. To be honest I think a lot of stuff evolves over time? So if you want to see the development of his character in Avengers up until he properly departs in #230, just read that continuously. I honestly can't name a lot of issues there where I'd rec for him specifically, because he's sharing space with SO many other characters. He has a little more to do in WCA so here's are some issues, to be honest I can't even remember when he joins but it's fairly soon into the series, his stuff with Ultron starts in #4 - #7 & stuff kinda just happens to Hank including flirting with Tigra until his life falls apart (again) and he attempts suicide in #17. It's an interesting study of him & I think Englehart does it justice. He shows up in that series pretty continuously & starts superheroing again with them & is in almost all of Avengers: West Coast too, so feel free to check that out although don't take what you see of Wanda, Simon & Vision to heart imo.

Marvel Double Feature: Giant-Man or Avengers #379 - #383 – I have never been able to find a scan of this comic online, you might have more luck on the official marvel unlimited app but there is an Ant-Man/Giant-Man: Growing Pains collection comic that brings together a lot of his vital stuff where this series is printed along others. It's honestly insane & I won't lie I got confused at the plot reveal but it's incredibly fun. Hank fucked up a science thing and has to fight big massive bugs and keeps going on these long monologues about how much his life sucks and how much he needs therapy while fighting massive bugs it's so funny. The Kree are there for some reason & Bill Foster is there! A confusing but fun time.

Ant-Man's Big Christmas – a festive comic about Hank & Janet terrorising a young boy's family on Christmas because he sent them a letter. Their dyanmic is so cute here & I like how playful Hank is in it :>

Avengers Academy – Hank is a teacher here looking after a bunch of young up n coming superheroes & I actually really like him in this role. Like he's clearly flawed & doesn't know what he's doing but he also does really resonate with some of those kids. Reptil mentioned him as one of the big heroes in his life so he clearly had an impact. There's a lot of stuff with the kids which is tedious at times if you're not into them but the Hank & Tigra stuff is so sweet.

Avengers: A.I. – this is probably my most formative depiction of Hank in comics. This is the one that establishes his bipolar disorder & is pretty sensitive about how it's depicted? Sam Humphries clearly has a strong vision for this Hank & it's a super refreshing direction IMO. plus he hangs out of Vision & Victor Mancha which is great.

Ant-Man V3 – Al Ewing's 4 issue 60 year anniversary has Hank from Tales to Astonish team up with all subsequent Ant-Men to fight Pymtron, which was fun & cool for the most part!

Don't read anything with Dan Slott or Bendis' names attached IMO, certainly not until you have a super firm understanding of the guy bc these comics he appears in under them are genuinely just so fucking bad.

I'll cap it off here, he appears in other stuff too like Beyond! & Avengers Forever & has a weird arc in Kurt Busiek's Avengers where past Yellowjacket kidnaps Hank but I think Busiek forgot & I can't remember if that ever got resolved? Don't worry about it bascially. But this is some issues I consider formative or otherwise important & major to Hank so I'll keep it here. If you're interested in reading every issue of his ever or something, you can check out the travis-starnes cmro site where he has collected every issue of every character, including Hank's 👍

[tempestshakes01]

my therapist gave me an assignment: write to AdultMiranda from the POV of TeenMiranda. She says that while TeenMiranda was a supportive listener to others, my fears kept me from creating meaningful connections with the people in my life, and AdultMiranda can be that for TeenMiranda right now. 

yow.

Hey! I never wrote about those 2 stories from work that I mentioned. Let’s run through those quickly (EDIT: lmao) because they’re little moments I never want to forget. [Also, I’m going to post my finale from student teaching and attach the link here.]

1. I.R. - There’s this one kiddo in seventh grade SPED who got an interest in the Keurig, so I taught him how to use it. Every morning IR would wait for me to show up and ask if I wanted coffee. I 95% of the time said yes (even when I was trying to cut back...he was so sweet!!!) and supervised while he went through the steps we had painstakingly gone over. 

So this coffee thing really warmed him up to me. He’s quite low--about a 2nd/3rd grade level, talks to himself constantly and gets easily flustered when asked to do basic function, but we built a bond over the coffee machine. 

One day, the band did a performance on the field and everyone had to go outside. Even though it was May, the weather was fucking freezing and IR didn’t have a jacket, so I gave him mine. I was obviously shivering and fucking cold as fuck, and sweet sweet IR shuffled closer and closer trying to warm me up with his body heat or something, getting way too close actually, and that’s awkward so I casually shuffled away. Finally, he turns to me and opens my jacket up and tries to cover me and him...AH. So sweet, but fucking awkward as fuck, so I was like, No, buddy, you keep warm, okay? 

Anyway, cut to the last week of school. IR tells me I’m one of his favorite teachers (except he ended up writing his thank you note to fucking Mr. Huffman...he’s the late 20s/early 30s social studies teacher and really hot in a square-cut jaw jock kind of way, and all the students love him, but I have yet to see him teach so I remain on the fence about him). IR says really shyly, “Ms. G, can I come over to your house and hang out this summer?” 

AHHHHHHH. I explained to him that no, he could not come over to my house, but that I would see him the next year and he could tell me ALL about his AWESOME summer and I would be SO excited to hear it. But no, IR you cannot come to my house because that would be weird. 

from 2012-ish:

2. K.M. - Have I mentioned KM in a post yet? I think I have, but I gave him another name. No, that might have been a post I deleted. 

Okay, KM was my favorite student. You don’t ever admit you have a fav, but we all do, and KM was mine for a number of reasons--mainly I worked with him the most, he was my toughest cookie, and there were many layers to this kid that revealed themselves the longer we worked together and taught me a lot about my own struggles with fear and anxiety which is why I’m probably going to have a lot to say. By the end of our time together, I was deeply invested in KM’s success as an 8th grader and a future young man in society.

[I have to say, the professional distancing in something I struggle with. At the resort, the job was to create the feeling of a family away from home. You wanted the kids (and adults) to walk away feeling like thy’re leaving a new life-long friend (not just someone who was friendly). Which...kind of morphed into what actually started happening. I stayed so long at the resort that I saw families over and over again. I started to see kids grow up. I would greet the moms with a hug and ask about their lives. I got updates through pictures and videos on parent’s phones, proudly displaying new achievements. I was specifically requested for days, asked to nanny/au pair, asked to attend birthday parties, given enormous tips to help out specifically with school bills because so many people believed in me as a teacher (lol), and I would get special goodbyes. 

It’s weird because I fell for my own tactics. It’s part of why I loved working there. I really believed in the relationships I built with the clients...but that’s what they are really. It’s such a strange thin border of employee-friend that as an emotions based person...I’m not sure how well I straddled it. 

And specifically with the kids, I really did work as a counselor to be their Adult Friend in the most basic way possible because that allowed me to quickly get to know them, create an experience (the capitalism at play), but also help them with issues they maybe wouldn’t go with to another adult. As a teacher, you don’t do that. You’re friendly, but your job is to teach the materials and that emotional kind of stuff usually goes to the school counselor. BUT as a para, there’s this weird in between where I’m explaining the material, but also working on that emotional component because the cert doesn’t have the time/it’s not their job. I had afternoons where BM, my homeless - noncompliant - cussing/hissing student, and I just sat in the library and stared at each other until one day I asked why he wanted to fail (and I didn’t mean at school). He broke. We never touched the material, but BM actually began to talk to me which is what he needed. At that time in his life, BM didn’t need to know the history of Washington, he needed someone to fucking listen to him. 

I don’t know. Sorry. Trying to figure out the balance.]

Okay, the first little moment came when KM absolutely broke my heart. The science class had a district assessment and KM immediately asked if we could leave the room. He doesn’t like to be in a full classroom unless he has to be and even then the chances he’ll do his work in a classroom is about 15%. So I explained to the sub what was what, and he handed KM his test and we left to the cafeteria. 

The 6th graders were going to come in to tour the school, so the cafeteria was set up weird to accommodate them for video watching. KM and I had to sit in the back. I gave KM his test and his notes (I kept all his work on me because he had a habit of throwing away his work--even if it was complete). GOD, and then came 20 mins of trying to get him to do anything on the test and he’s being a fucking brat. We had worked his grade up to a B. I didn’t want to lose the momentum. 

I ask him, “K, why don’t you want to take the test?”

He says, “It’s stupid,” and he starts to write stupid across the test. I immediately know what he means.

“Why is it stupid?”

“It’s Version 2. I asked not to do Version 2 anymore.” He was right. He gets modified versions of tests and he HAD asked to get the regular test. This test had his name scrawled at the top and V2 printed beneath it. 

“So version 2 is stupid.”

“Yeah. It’s fucking stupid.”

“Language. So because version 2 is stupid and you have to take it...”

“...it means I’m stupid.”

I wanted to fucking cry. He wouldn’t look me in the eye. His ears turned red and the stupid unicorn ponytail he insisted on wearing because his blonde hair wasn’t long enough to make a regular bun bobbled as he shook his head as if to shake away the uncomfortable confession. 

I explained to him he wasn’t stupid for taking the damn test. He played with an ant while explained this to him, the bratty attitude deflated. He gently put the ant on the floor and whispered goodbye (which endeared my insect-loving heart...we’ve bonded before over bugs). I managed to get him to work on the test by promising I would get him version 1 when Mr. S returned from vacation. We would use Version 2 as a practice test 

-

A week or two later, it was the last couple days of school and the kids were going to launch their pressure rockets they’d built out of pop bottles, clay, and tape. They designed the rockets and all the science classes were in competition to see which class would have the best average and win the trophy for their teacher. 

I helped KM design his rocket with another troubled girl M and my very frustrating student (cussed at me! said he’d punch me! yelled at me in front of the class! ugh) ZA. KM had the one request that his rocket drop bombs and he rigged up a very effective (!!) little basket on the belly of the rocket.

The launch day came and both M and ZA were absent. I was in charge of recording measurements. KM would have to launch our rocket alone. 

It was done to business. The kids began to launch their rockets three at a time on this really nifty rig. Most of the rockets flew through the air and landed a reasonable average distance away (40-60M). A few went way far out on the field, really incredible distances (90M). One crash landed just 15M from the launch. KM grew visibly nervous and started acting out. First, he came over to me after observing the first few launches. “I think I should ditch the bomb basket,” he said chewing his lip. 

“Whatever you think is best,” I answered. 

“Yeah, there will be too much drag.”

He carefully took off the basket and kept an eye the launches. Slowly, he migrated back to my side.

“Do I have to do this?” became  “I’m not going to this.” became “This is so fucking stupid.” became “Hey, Gangsta G, I’m going stomp on my rocket, okay? This is stupid.”

He was running out of time. Most of the kids in the 3 classes that were out launching had gone. I tried to get him to just get it over with, but he was like, “Not yet. Not yet.”

I could see it on his face. The anxiety. The fear of failing. The expectation of failing. In front of all his peers, no less. KM was about an inch taller than me with freckles, blue eyes, and thick black frames that he hated wearing for weeks after he got them until I prompted a few girls in his class to compliment them, lol. He had a wide mouth that was smirking most of the time or open in adolescent indignation from some perceived wrong, and a fidgeting body. He had anger issues and ADHD so he constantly needed to be on the move and was always blurting. 

But at that moment, he looked at me and I saw it again. That little boy. “Will you do it, Ms. G?” he asked. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. He had to face his fears. It was a good rocket and I wanted him to feel the success on his own terms, but God, did I recognize that anxiety.  

I walked with him over to the launcher. He was in the last group. Mr. S set up everything and then pow, pow, pow. The kids tugged on their strings and the rockets went shooting up into the clear blue sky. I followed our rocket with my gaze and saw it land far in the distance, out where the top fliers had landed, there was a chance our rocket was a record breaker, and I turned to congratulate KM. But he was gone. I saw him in the back of the group not even facing the field and laughing with a friend as if he didn’t have a care in the world.  

“K, go put down your flag!” Mr. S shouted. 

He looked confused, so I pointed out flag sticking out of his pocket and reminded him he had to go fetch the rocket. “I don’t even know where it is!” he yelled back. 

“It’s out there!” I gestured, “Way, way out there.”

He ran out, found it, put down the flag, and then stomped on the rocket. 

We came in 3rd.

He didn’t think it was good enough and couldn’t take the compliment, and I told my therapist I had never met someone whose fear of failure mirrored mine so well.

-

You know, I’m so grateful to Joe (Mr. S). He’s an incredible teacher. Maybe in his early 50s, he’s this short, round, handsome man with close-cropped hair and beard, wire frame glasses, and clear blue eyes. He does NOT have a quiet voice. Joe is always shouting or shouting even louder at an even faster pace. His class moves efficiently and with maximum knowledge being imparted in the coolest of ways. I learned a lot of eighth grade science from him, lol, but more importantly how to be a clear and engaging teacher. He didn’t have time for the bullshit because HE was so excited about the science he had to teach for the day.

Anyway, Joe treated me like an equal from Day 1. He never questioned my qualifications, never asked me to do any busy work, always asked for my opinions about the students I was working with and what he could do to help. More than anyone, I felt like his partner, and he vocally supported me both to admin about my efforts and also to my face, telling me that when I was ready, I would make an excellent teacher.

And Joe doesn’t fucking waste words. He’s not a small-talk guy. He yells about science and cuts to chase about life shit. He’s great.

- 

from 2015:

By the final weeks, KM knows I have his back and he’s constantly asking for my advice, for my help with schoolwork and social stuff, and his teachers are requesting me to come work with him because he’s insufferable and I’m the only one who can get any sort of work out him. He’s relatively calm with me, the little boy unafraid to come out, no pretenses. 

He even asks me to hold his phone at lunch while he plays basketball with my PoC boys...which is insane. These middle school boys do NOT want any adult to have a hold of their phone. 

We play one on one after the lunch bell rings and everyone goes inside. Walt, the school cop, watched and makes fun my sloppy plays, but KM isn’t great at basketball, so we’re pretty evenly matched. Walt pats KM on the back and asks about his day. I’m happy whenever an adult male treats him like a solid young man. KM needs all the building up he can get. 

We walk together from homebase to 1st and from 1st to 2nd period (and at the very beginning I used to be in his 3rd period class but it felt kind of pointless because the class wasn’t hard (CCLR) and I sensed he was getting annoyed that I was in 4 of his classes in a row, so I requested to be moved out. 

“Why are you following me?” he asked that first month, “I don’t need your fucking help.”

“Why are you following me?” I said.

But since the beginning of May, he started waiting for me, telling me, “Hurry up, Ms. G! We’re going to be late!” and when it was time to go to 2nd, he would ask if he could to the ELD class with me and work in there. He liked the smallness of the class, how quiet it got, and how no one stared at him and their reading skills were close to his. 

-

So finally, it’s the second to last day of school AKA the last day that KM is going to show up. 

3rd period is watching Moana and I’m sitting on one edge of the big leather ottoman in the reading corner with KM seated next to me, DS standing to the right of me, and CP sitting in a chair by KM. (CP is a whole other story as is DS. Working in SPED is an experience.) We’re all eating popcorn and talking quietly. 

KM then says sheepishly, “Ms. G? Remember when you told me about your students? The ones with the bracelets.”

He means my “Gucci bracelet” kids at John Jay...ankle monitors for kids on house arrest or parole. 

“I might get one,” he whispers. 

I’m kind of surprised. I ask why. He looks at me funny and then his face clears and he says, “I never told you why I came to this school.”

He proceeds to tell me that he was sent to live with grandparents and was under house arrest after 2 incidents in his old neighborhood. He already went to trial for one of them, but his second one was late June. They kept pushing it back, pushing it back, and he was worried that he was going to get an ankle monitor/get a juvie-like sentencing at his final court appearance scheduled in July. He asks my advice on a couple of things I vaguely know about from past students, so I tell him about their experiences. 

I ask him about the incidents, but I let him know he doesn’t have to tell him if he’d rather not. He pauses for a minute and I think he’s done talking, so we watch the movie for a minute. I’ve put a piece of popcorn in my mouth when he starts to tell me the story.

I’m not going to write about it since it might still be an open case and he’s a minor, but suffice to say it’s serious. I let him finish his story and I ask a few questions about the situation. His role in some of the incidents was noble but misguided, and I wanted to know if he’d handle everything in the same way. He nodded, yes, he would, but that he’s changed a lot.

And there again was the clear KM. The little boy growing up, not the teenage masks everyone wears to protect themselves or to try on identities. It was most honest KM. He was scared of the trial, of what he was capable of doing, and for his future. He was just a kid, my dudes. I wanted to ruffle his hair and tell him it was going to be okay. I wanted to tell him about white privilege and get him to see his luck at being a white male going through the court system. I wanted to cry again because it was the last day I was going to see him and after that, his future was out of my hands.

I wasn’t his mom, his sister, or his therapist, but I felt like I took on those roles at different times in our time together. Therapist especially. I wanted him to know that he could do it, he could make it. Fuck what other people say. Fuck his shitty dad. Fuck the negative self-thoughts. He’s the only one in control. It’s his choices. He chooses the direction he wants to go in. He’s got a wonderful mom. Close siblings (his relationship with his sister reminded me of Nick and me). Lovely grandparents. Mrs. Steele, who fights for every single fucking student who comes under her care. Mrs. Becker, who embraced his antics and treated him like an upstanding young man even when he was being a shit. He’s got baseball and teammates that want him on their team and coaches. And he’s got me in his corner always ready to talk his shit out and support him when he feels the fear at his back.

I wished him good luck.

Our last conversation was about an upper-cut versus a jab. 

“That’s not a fucking uppercut! You’re wrong, Ms. G!”

And that’s it. 

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Miranda Gutierrez

CandI-4646-902

Prince

Ape-real 24, 2016

Once I Was a Maverick

When Orlando came back from the alternative high school, I saw how his eyebrow were sharply shorn in two small patches and the new goatee sprouting on his handsome face. His baby face melting away, Orlando’s features seemed more direct, eyes constantly roving across the halls, shiny and black. His jeans sagged precariously low with his boxers spilling out over top and it caused him to waddle and swing his thin shoulders like a cub learning to prowl. This prowl is common, this walking rhythm, this posture. You see it...and you know.

I’d missed him. Orlando had always been so utterly kind. The kid possessed a calmness when dealing with his most unruly classmates, a wisdom, and healthy sense of knowing when to just stop and apologize.

Coming back from AHS, I quickly noticed the change in Orlando’s demeanor, but nothing prepared me for when he hurled himself spitting mad into Dan’s 8th period class just as the tardy bell rang. Other boys were ragging on him--for god knows what--and it worked Orlando up into a lather of deep, physical anger. He slammed himself into an available seat and sat there, shaking, fists curling and uncurling as he stared unseeing at a far wall. One of his best friends in the class, a sweetheart of a chola named Kat, immediately started to talk him down. Kat, a student with bipolar disorder, could see something was wrong. When I crossed over to him, Orlando was already sweating and pale, and you could literally see the war happening inside him.

I crouched low at his desk, my fingertips catching against wood of his desk to steady myself. I breathed, watching the way his jaws clenched and his fists sickly slammed into one another--

--and that’s when a disruptive little thought shoved into my brain--one that said, With all your 22 year old wisdom, you’re going to help this kid. Okay. Sure.

 The thought came laced with sarcasm. It laughed at me. I so horribly, for just one moment, feared whatever came out my mouth would cause one of my favorite students to lose his mind. Even with my own history of anxiety and panic disorder--and it was rapidly apparent Orlando was having an episode--my words poised behind my teeth seemed hollow. My heart hurt.

But then I said, “Orlando, let’s get water.”

He whispered through gritted teeth, “Ms. G, I’m not thirsty.”

“Orlando, we’re going to get up, walk to that door over there, and get some really cold water.”

His body swayed back and forth, back and forth, and the other kids in the class were jeering behind us, “Miss…”

“Orlando…”

And the rest I’ve erased from memory, but basically I got Orlando out of his chair and we walked around the school for 15 minutes and regulated our breathing. Orlando, in the farthest reaches of campus before stepping on the football field, began to cry. I felt helpless and afraid, but also I felt love and compassion. We talked about little things because he refused to talk about big things, and he then he told me about his father killing his baby brother by accident when his meth lab exploded.

All my 22-year-old wisdom. Sure.

I managed to get a freshman named Faith to see the school psychiatrist after she confessed she was cutting herself and afraid to go home. I felt fear due to a student's physicality for the first and last time when a boy with step-mom issues got so angry with me, he fell into a stillness with dead eyes, and I could sense, so strongly, he was resting on something dark. Matt paced inside the classroom one day for half hour straight, his massive football player body ready for a fight. There was the day I yelled at Jorge, not rudely, but angry, and felt sick about the rest of the day even if he was being the biggest brat I’ve ever worked with and tried to use his physicality to intimidate me.

This is a reflection, UTSA, I promise. I just needed a moment to write down the issue I wrestled with most, and that’s the behavior/mental health of my students. At first it was easy to take a kid outside and talk to them, but the longer my placement stretched, the longer I felt like a measly, unsticky bandaid to problems I couldn’t fathom a good answer to with my all my 22 year old wisdom.

In that sense, I think this was the teaching part that I learned the most about. Okay, that’s a lie. It was actually learning what a really good lesson looks like, what it looks like to be an experimental teacher, and  

[end transcript / I threw this version out]

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from 2015:

...

[413-request-entity-too-large]

Why reCAPTCHA is actually an act of human torture

Like many things that start out as a mere annoyance, though eventually grow into somewhat of an affliction. One particular dark and insidious thing has more than reared its ugly head in recent years, and now far more accurately described as an epidemic disease.

I’m talking about the filth that is reCAPTCHA. Yes that seemingly harmless question of “Are you a human?” Truly I wish all this called for were sarcastic puns of ‘The Matrix’ variety but the matter is far more serious.

Google describes reCAPTCHA as:

[reCAPTCHA] is a free security service that protects your websites from spam and abuse.

However, this couldn’t be further from the truth, as reCAPTCHA is actually something that causes abuse. In fact, I would go so far as to say that being subjected to constant reCAPTCHAs is actually an act of human torture and disregard for a person’s human right of mental comfort.

Back in the 90s a bunch of smart-asses realized money was to be made and much time saved by programming bots to do everything for them online. Some bots were good and helpful and made things easier and more efficient for everyone. Whilst others were used to send spam and even caused some websites to crash or suffer lag due to repeated use.

For a time websites employed easily defeated methods for trying to prevent such abuse by making anyone (or anything) who visited/accessed page ‘x’ do ‘y’ thing. Mostly these preventative methods were something stupidly easy for even a computer/bot to solve and did little to stop spam and misuse except prevent access from those only computers/bots that didn’t have a method of solving such simple problems.

To solve what was (at the time) an epidemic in and of itself of bots, reCRAPCHA was born.

Late edit: *Although the topic of ‘who made reCAPTCHA?’ is mostly irrelevant as far as this post’s topic is concerned. I was firmly, albeit still mostly ‘kindly’ reminded that Mr. Luis von Ahn is the inventor of reCAPTCHA and who sold it to Google after ~2 years.* In my defense, the above wording is still right but as an author you have my apologies for not dropping your name sooner Mr. Ahn.

Google came to the rescue of all, as was arguably their responsibility because they were the ones taking it up the rear the hardest from such bots. With the torch now passed to Google, and in really no better shape than the original countermeasure. The below example is what you were tasked with solving, which in hindsight seems fair enough, though in reality – it’s incredulous to ask.

Clearly something like this frustrated people and it wasn’t outsmarting computers either so it was time for Google to get “smart” and being Google, of course they realized they could kill two birds with one stone. So they came up with a way that almost no one was able to criticize them. They turned to making people solve reCAPTCHAs that were actually helping transcribe written works into digital format, searchable by OCR (Optical Character Recognition).

What am I talking about? Well do you remember the days when a reCAPTCHA suddenly went from looking like gobbledegook, to looking like this:

I know I do. I solved thousands of these myself. A simple quick single or double word combination which could also be played out via audio. Mildly annoying but quick and simple for humans, and apparently hard for computers. Except when it became trivial for computers. So Google had to up the ante.

It started out as the lesser of two evils, the good guy vs the bad guys. Except now the fight has evolved into a level of complete disregard for humanity thanks to the likes of these barstads. Yep that’s exactly what it looks like. A “Professional” company that literally EMPLOYS PEOPLE TO SOLVE OTHER PEOPLE’S reCAPTCHAs.

Oh wait it can’t be that ba-

cough

cough

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cOuGh

and the list goes on, and on, and on…

How to meet the resistance in battle? Well, fast-forward to now and you’ve got this disease that is reCAPTCHA v2. The piece of crap that you now find front-and-fucking-center of every single login/register page or text/form submission on the web. That beast that ‘blocks your path’ every time you want or need to login or write anything online.

In 2017 and 2018, the average time to solve one of these annoyances was a mere 8 seconds for most people. I personally could do them in about 2-3 if I’d had my coffee. In fact, people are doing studies on how long it takes different types of people to solve them. Such as this one here. Though mind you, it’s from back in 2015 where you could solve these in seconds with both hands tied behind your back.

But now?

Now?

THE AVERAGE TIME IS OVER 30 SECONDS!

But don’t for one second think it has anything to do with some increasing level of complexity in the war against bots. No, no, no. How long it takes to now solve these things has increased due to completely deliberate and specific choices that Google has made in reCAPTCHA v3! Yes, I do mean v3 here because these changes (increased complexity in v2) were only made after the arrival of v3.

I’m talking about why, despite you being a completely normal human being of sound deductive capability. You… just… keep… FAILING these things!

So why… why does this happen? It isn’t because you are in fact a dunce who cannot count up to three or cannot tell how many buses or traffic lights there are in a few blurry photos and it also isn’t because you don’t know what a fire hydrant looks like. The reason that people fail reCAPTCHA v3 prompts so consistently now is because Google realized there was no punishment to forcing people to solve more of these ‘human verification puzzles’ and only more to gain by forcing (yes it IS forcing) people to train their AI for free.

“People whine non-stop about hidden crypto-miners in websites but those are in fact a far more honest take of the kind of beast reCAPTCHA is.”

In short. GREED is the reason why you are doomed to fail at least 2 to 3 times every time one of these blocks your path. In fairer times it used to be that if you had recently finished one, Google could tell and you would be able to outright skip any additional annoying puzzle or prompt after you had recently finished one already.

It used to be that Google recorded a bit of your mouse movements and any other inputs you made and if those were ‘human enough’ you were spared the expense and agony of having to dance like a monkey to a tune. But no more. There are no short-cuts now. No free passes. It doesn’t matter if you’re logged into your Google account and allowing all manner of cookies.

Google, despite its ability to track you even through every single reCAPTCHA prompt. They STILL force you to solve these things even though they know damn well you’re not a robot. Why? Because fuck you, that’s why!

“We have now hit such a dystopian phase in internet history that some people are in the business of hiring humans to sit in front of a screen and just solve other people’s reCAPTCHA prompts.”

Things are only set to get worse too, and [I’m certainly to the only one who thinks so. When we hit reCAPTCHA v4 and beyond the time that it takes to solve these prompts will arguably get longer and the tasks become more frustrating.

You will likely be asked to turn on your webcam to confirm you are a human, and not in fact a pesky cat that just stepped onto the keyboard.

You will likely be asked to enable access to your microphone and forced to sing the chorus to the likes of Billy Ray Cyrus’ – Achy Breaky Heart.

You will likely be asked to open your phone/iPad/whatever and perform some action on a device other than the one you are trying to solve the reCAPTCHA on –

all begging the question of “I mean do you really I mean really need to login or submit that post? What if you try later… Maybe it will just go away? If only.

and…

YOU WILL WANT TO PAY A COMPANY TO SOLVE THESE THINGS FOR YOU. BUT YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO AFFORD IT! Solving reCAPTCHAs will be just another LUXURY like fast download and upload speeds, 4K displays and toilet paper that doesn’t give you a rash.

But hold up, if you don’t think that before you start to even consider that there must be a way to bypass or block these things just like you can block an advertisement online. Leading you to find one of those aforementioned ‘solving services’ and actually ever sign up to one of them.

That there will, and, not LONG, before you ever could get to that stage, be an option to PAY GOOGLE THEMSELVES some form of subscription to bypass these things altogether. If such a thing sounds like a fairytale to you, my dear reader, you are very naïve. I call it the reCAPTCHA Pass I dare say it’s already in the works and that, if you value your time, you will want one. With Google controlling the supply, demand and complexity of these bloody things, you can bet that their prices will be the cheapest!

Really I’m surprised there isn’t a freaking crypto ‘credit’ service that exists that you can use to pay your way out of having to do them. Now wait, that’s an idea! BRB whilst I go patent that.

Mark. My. Words. It will only get worse and there will be multiple businesses and services available pining for your money. ‘When computers attack’ the only thing that can solve the question of “Are you a human?” is literally exactly that, a human. Either you, or some poor sod you are paying. So what’s it gonna be?

This article was originally published by Nils Gronkjaer. You can read it here.