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what-even-is-thiss: bobcatdump: jaskiegg: mellomaia: aphony-cree: beyoncescock: gahdamnpunk: Honestly!!! This is just psychological trauma in the making THANK YOU I’ve asked parents about this and they always say they are teaching the child responsibility and “respect for other people’s things.” If I point out that the child accidentally broke their own toy they always say “I bought them that toy” or “my sister gave that to them.” The problem is that parents view all possessions as not really belonging to the child. A part of them always seems to think that the adult who provided the money is the real owner If a parent breaks a dish they see it as breaking something that already belonged to them, but if a child breaks it they see it as the child breaking something that belonged to the parents People raising children need to realize that household possessions belong to the entire household. If everyone has to use that plate then it belongs to everyone and anyone can have a forgivable accident with it. It’s okay to deem certain possessions as just yours and ask everyone in the house to respect that, but extend the same respect to your child’s belongings Big mood. I know most of these are talking about little little kids, but here’s a tale from middle school. I had forgotten to charge my phone one night, and this was back when cell phones used to beep loudly when they were low on battery. I kept hearing the noise throughout the afternoon and not recognizing what it was because I’d never heard it before. When I finally did realize what it was, I was in science class and my fellow classmates were making presentations. I reached into my bag to try to turn off the phone, and then the low-battery sound went off, loud enough for the teacher to hear it. She confiscated my phone in front of everyone, and I didn’t get it back until after the weekend because it was a Friday. I was really embarrassed, especially to tell my parents. When I got my phone back that Monday, my teacher said it was important for me to learn this lesson now since in college they wouldn’t tolerate phones going off. Fast forward to when I was in college, any time someone’s phone went off, either the professor would tell them to turn it off, or they would say, “Oh, my bad,” and turn it off themselves, and everyone would move on. I even had a professor who danced around while someone’s phone went off, and it was a welcome moment of levity during the lecture. I say all this to say, one of the worst aspects of being a child/teen was adults assuming my intentions were malicious. God I’ve been reading these posts for a while and each time I am struck with the realization that certainly not all parents were supposed to be a parent “I say all this to say, one of the worst aspects of being a child/teen was adults assuming my intentions were malicious.”YES this The problem is, even if families are forgiving the culture around children still effects the child. I use myself as proof of that. A few times between the ages of 4 and 18 I broke things. I broke my grandma’s favorite Christmas ornament. Her first question was: “Are you hurt?” and when I apologized profusely she said “I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.” I broke a few plates. I broke a couple glasses. Every time my dad’s first response was “Did you get cut?” the second step was cleaning up the broken bits, and the third was a discussion of what led to me breaking it and how I could avoid doing that in the future. Same with spills. Same with stains. My biggest “punishment” from my immediate family was being taught how to clean up the mess I made and being shown in detail how to avoid the same mistake in the future if it was avoidable. There were consequences for my actions, but they were the direct result of those actions and nothing much beyond that. My family tried so hard to teach me how to deal with accidents in a healthy way. They were patient. They treated every slip-up as a learning opportunity. They showed me a lot of love. The other adults still got to me. Teachers still punished and publicly shamed me and other students for our mess-ups. Extended family members outside of my small supportive circle still yelled at me. My friends’ parents still got mad. To the point where whenever I messed up my first instinct was that my dad or grandparents were going to punish me, or yell at me, or hit me, even though they never did. They just didn’t. They always responded with patience and an attitude of “I’m glad you’re safe and I want to help you learn from this.” And I was still afraid of messing up. Mortified. Expecting the worst every time. It’s like… we need to change the culture around this, man. Completely. : what-even-is-thiss: bobcatdump: jaskiegg: mellomaia: aphony-cree: beyoncescock: gahdamnpunk: Honestly!!! This is just psychological trauma in the making THANK YOU I’ve asked parents about this and they always say they are teaching the child responsibility and “respect for other people’s things.” If I point out that the child accidentally broke their own toy they always say “I bought them that toy” or “my sister gave that to them.” The problem is that parents view all possessions as not really belonging to the child. A part of them always seems to think that the adult who provided the money is the real owner If a parent breaks a dish they see it as breaking something that already belonged to them, but if a child breaks it they see it as the child breaking something that belonged to the parents People raising children need to realize that household possessions belong to the entire household. If everyone has to use that plate then it belongs to everyone and anyone can have a forgivable accident with it. It’s okay to deem certain possessions as just yours and ask everyone in the house to respect that, but extend the same respect to your child’s belongings Big mood. I know most of these are talking about little little kids, but here’s a tale from middle school. I had forgotten to charge my phone one night, and this was back when cell phones used to beep loudly when they were low on battery. I kept hearing the noise throughout the afternoon and not recognizing what it was because I’d never heard it before. When I finally did realize what it was, I was in science class and my fellow classmates were making presentations. I reached into my bag to try to turn off the phone, and then the low-battery sound went off, loud enough for the teacher to hear it. She confiscated my phone in front of everyone, and I didn’t get it back until after the weekend because it was a Friday. I was really embarrassed, especially to tell my parents. When I got my phone back that Monday, my teacher said it was important for me to learn this lesson now since in college they wouldn’t tolerate phones going off. Fast forward to when I was in college, any time someone’s phone went off, either the professor would tell them to turn it off, or they would say, “Oh, my bad,” and turn it off themselves, and everyone would move on. I even had a professor who danced around while someone’s phone went off, and it was a welcome moment of levity during the lecture. I say all this to say, one of the worst aspects of being a child/teen was adults assuming my intentions were malicious. God I’ve been reading these posts for a while and each time I am struck with the realization that certainly not all parents were supposed to be a parent “I say all this to say, one of the worst aspects of being a child/teen was adults assuming my intentions were malicious.”YES this The problem is, even if families are forgiving the culture around children still effects the child. I use myself as proof of that. A few times between the ages of 4 and 18 I broke things. I broke my grandma’s favorite Christmas ornament. Her first question was: “Are you hurt?” and when I apologized profusely she said “I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.” I broke a few plates. I broke a couple glasses. Every time my dad’s first response was “Did you get cut?” the second step was cleaning up the broken bits, and the third was a discussion of what led to me breaking it and how I could avoid doing that in the future. Same with spills. Same with stains. My biggest “punishment” from my immediate family was being taught how to clean up the mess I made and being shown in detail how to avoid the same mistake in the future if it was avoidable. There were consequences for my actions, but they were the direct result of those actions and nothing much beyond that. My family tried so hard to teach me how to deal with accidents in a healthy way. They were patient. They treated every slip-up as a learning opportunity. They showed me a lot of love. The other adults still got to me. Teachers still punished and publicly shamed me and other students for our mess-ups. Extended family members outside of my small supportive circle still yelled at me. My friends’ parents still got mad. To the point where whenever I messed up my first instinct was that my dad or grandparents were going to punish me, or yell at me, or hit me, even though they never did. They just didn’t. They always responded with patience and an attitude of “I’m glad you’re safe and I want to help you learn from this.” And I was still afraid of messing up. Mortified. Expecting the worst every time. It’s like… we need to change the culture around this, man. Completely.

what-even-is-thiss: bobcatdump: jaskiegg: mellomaia: aphony-cree: beyoncescock: gahdamnpunk: Honestly!!! This is just psychologica...

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cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER : cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER

cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the g...

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isei-silva: You know that friend I was RPing with our Predators/Yautja? Oh yeah, we’re deep in worldbuilding, baby. While we know that Predators are often presented in their hunting armor and gear, I like to see it as a practical set much like our modern human combat armor is. It’s light, it’s tough, it’s sleek, and does what it needs to do. But, back in Yautja Prime, we’ve allowed their natural culture and social structures to rise based on what we do know of canon lore so far. Keep in mind that no major species’ civilizations are the same across its entire planet and set in stone. Much like we find VAST diversity in human culture depending on location, social structures, history, religions, mythos, etc… We have to allow Yautja the same courtesy. Meaning that some areas of Yautja Prime may reflect one aspect of their culture more strongly, others may favor another. Some may be more down to earth and wordly, others more technologically inclined and modern. Blood, Hunt, and Honor are the canopy of a very old tree rooted by long, branching roots. Above are the Honor Guard for the Council of Matriarchs, and the Council of Elders. The Matriarchs tend to mostly on-world matters, the Elders to off-world matters. This is based on a belief called the Three Bloods.From the RP:[”The Council of Matriarchs dealt with on-world matters because females were the First Blood of any yautja. Blood of the womb. Males dealt with off-world matters because they were often a yautja’s Second Blood, the blood of battle and the hunt. All yautja spent their entire life proving themselves for their next Blood. First, to survive after the womb, violent and uncertain and marked with danger outside of their control. Then through strict discipline and training to become Blooded and spill their own upon their brow to make their mark. The First and Second Blood. It was then the responsibility of both Councils to ensure that all yautja could earn their Third Blood - the blood of death. The Third Blood was not judged by Elders or Matriarchs, but by the gods.”]I designed the Honor Guard to reflect Native Middle and South American culture as a quiet nod to the original Alien versus Predator 2004 movie.We hope you enjoy!: isei-silva: You know that friend I was RPing with our Predators/Yautja? Oh yeah, we’re deep in worldbuilding, baby. While we know that Predators are often presented in their hunting armor and gear, I like to see it as a practical set much like our modern human combat armor is. It’s light, it’s tough, it’s sleek, and does what it needs to do. But, back in Yautja Prime, we’ve allowed their natural culture and social structures to rise based on what we do know of canon lore so far. Keep in mind that no major species’ civilizations are the same across its entire planet and set in stone. Much like we find VAST diversity in human culture depending on location, social structures, history, religions, mythos, etc… We have to allow Yautja the same courtesy. Meaning that some areas of Yautja Prime may reflect one aspect of their culture more strongly, others may favor another. Some may be more down to earth and wordly, others more technologically inclined and modern. Blood, Hunt, and Honor are the canopy of a very old tree rooted by long, branching roots. Above are the Honor Guard for the Council of Matriarchs, and the Council of Elders. The Matriarchs tend to mostly on-world matters, the Elders to off-world matters. This is based on a belief called the Three Bloods.From the RP:[”The Council of Matriarchs dealt with on-world matters because females were the First Blood of any yautja. Blood of the womb. Males dealt with off-world matters because they were often a yautja’s Second Blood, the blood of battle and the hunt. All yautja spent their entire life proving themselves for their next Blood. First, to survive after the womb, violent and uncertain and marked with danger outside of their control. Then through strict discipline and training to become Blooded and spill their own upon their brow to make their mark. The First and Second Blood. It was then the responsibility of both Councils to ensure that all yautja could earn their Third Blood - the blood of death. The Third Blood was not judged by Elders or Matriarchs, but by the gods.”]I designed the Honor Guard to reflect Native Middle and South American culture as a quiet nod to the original Alien versus Predator 2004 movie.We hope you enjoy!

isei-silva: You know that friend I was RPing with our Predators/Yautja? Oh yeah, we’re deep in worldbuilding, baby. While we know that P...

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hattersarts: Something you have to explain - a livmay comic Its finally complete and here… So first off huge thank you to everyone who backed this on ko-fi and funded the project letting me work on this beast as if it were a job. Huge thank you to Amber @ambercragg !!! without your co-writing and headcanon exchange this wouldn’t have been the same, thank you so so much.Thank you to tiff @tiffbaxter and gabo @silvermender for letting me slide you the script and yell about how many pages i had left. Extra materials about the comic can be found here, script, 3D model of the set, thumbs, continuity cutouts etc. This might be available for print at some point so keep your eye out for that !! And with that, please enjoy, this comic is set fairly soon after the spider verse movie events. Keep reading : hattersarts: Something you have to explain - a livmay comic Its finally complete and here… So first off huge thank you to everyone who backed this on ko-fi and funded the project letting me work on this beast as if it were a job. Huge thank you to Amber @ambercragg !!! without your co-writing and headcanon exchange this wouldn’t have been the same, thank you so so much.Thank you to tiff @tiffbaxter and gabo @silvermender for letting me slide you the script and yell about how many pages i had left. Extra materials about the comic can be found here, script, 3D model of the set, thumbs, continuity cutouts etc. This might be available for print at some point so keep your eye out for that !! And with that, please enjoy, this comic is set fairly soon after the spider verse movie events. Keep reading

hattersarts: Something you have to explain - a livmay comic Its finally complete and here… So first off huge thank you to everyone who ba...

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cryptid-picnic: arkoslover: If you’re feeling discouraged about voting for Bernie Sanders after the March 10th primaries, I hope this graphic change will help boost your confidence to get out and vote. For anyone who can’t see the image, I edited the delegate count shown on Google from integers to percentages, and this is what we have as of March 11th at 11:25am ET There have been 41.89% of the total delegates declared. Of the 1,991 pledged delegates needed to win the nomination, this is how close each candidate is to that mark by percentage: Joe Biden (running): 42.54% Bernie Sanders (running): 34.4% Elizabeth Warren (dropped out): 3.46% Mike Bloomberg (dropped out): 3.06% Pete Buttigieg (dropped out): 1.3% Amy Klobuchar (dropped out) 0.35% Tulsi Gabbard (running): 0.1% The race isn’t even halfway over, and nobody has even reached the halfway mark to the number of delegates needed to win the nomination. If you want Bernie Sanders to win, your vote is still an important part of this race. If you live in Arizona, Florida, Illinois, or Ohio, go out and vote on Tuesday, March 17th! the media hates bernie but don’t let them discourage you!!! they WANT you to see their misleading articles and think “oh there’s no point, i won’t bother voting for bernie” VOTE. take your voice and use it to SCREAM : cryptid-picnic: arkoslover: If you’re feeling discouraged about voting for Bernie Sanders after the March 10th primaries, I hope this graphic change will help boost your confidence to get out and vote. For anyone who can’t see the image, I edited the delegate count shown on Google from integers to percentages, and this is what we have as of March 11th at 11:25am ET There have been 41.89% of the total delegates declared. Of the 1,991 pledged delegates needed to win the nomination, this is how close each candidate is to that mark by percentage: Joe Biden (running): 42.54% Bernie Sanders (running): 34.4% Elizabeth Warren (dropped out): 3.46% Mike Bloomberg (dropped out): 3.06% Pete Buttigieg (dropped out): 1.3% Amy Klobuchar (dropped out) 0.35% Tulsi Gabbard (running): 0.1% The race isn’t even halfway over, and nobody has even reached the halfway mark to the number of delegates needed to win the nomination. If you want Bernie Sanders to win, your vote is still an important part of this race. If you live in Arizona, Florida, Illinois, or Ohio, go out and vote on Tuesday, March 17th! the media hates bernie but don’t let them discourage you!!! they WANT you to see their misleading articles and think “oh there’s no point, i won’t bother voting for bernie” VOTE. take your voice and use it to SCREAM

cryptid-picnic: arkoslover: If you’re feeling discouraged about voting for Bernie Sanders after the March 10th primaries, I hope this g...

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ironwoman359: cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER I love this : ironwoman359: cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER I love this

ironwoman359: cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: Th...

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bogleech: dinosaur-joshua: sanpellegrino-s: askinfresh: teamnowalls: this is literally how i dance This went from “wow that’s pretty neat” to “WTF ITS ALIVE” real quick she did that Scenario: You are watching this puppet show, and then after the song is over, the puppeteer smiles at you as if to thank you for your support, then her and the wooden mouse depart in opposite directions.  If this thought hadn’t crossed anyone’s mind watching this already, re-watch it taking into consideration that gravity exerts an unpredictable chaos on dangling objects, that the puppet’s own wobbliness is most of the movement we see here and this woman simply has that flawless of a feel for how physics will continue moving the limbs at the slightest single twitch of her finger. This is a real deal fucking puppeteer no matter what her background or how long she’s been doing it. That wooden mouse is an appendage of this woman’s soul. : bogleech: dinosaur-joshua: sanpellegrino-s: askinfresh: teamnowalls: this is literally how i dance This went from “wow that’s pretty neat” to “WTF ITS ALIVE” real quick she did that Scenario: You are watching this puppet show, and then after the song is over, the puppeteer smiles at you as if to thank you for your support, then her and the wooden mouse depart in opposite directions.  If this thought hadn’t crossed anyone’s mind watching this already, re-watch it taking into consideration that gravity exerts an unpredictable chaos on dangling objects, that the puppet’s own wobbliness is most of the movement we see here and this woman simply has that flawless of a feel for how physics will continue moving the limbs at the slightest single twitch of her finger. This is a real deal fucking puppeteer no matter what her background or how long she’s been doing it. That wooden mouse is an appendage of this woman’s soul.
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meara-eldestofthemall: girlactionfigure: Eugene Lazowski was a Polish doctor who saved thousands of Jews during the Holocaust by creating a fake epidemic that kept the Germans away from their town. Eugene received his medical degree before the war started. After Germany invaded Poland in 1939, he became a military doctor with the Polish resistance. He was imprisoned in a German POW camp for his anti-Nazi activities. After his release in 1942, Eugene moved to a small town, Rozwadow, with his wife and young daughter. There he reunited with a friend from medical school, Stanislaw Matulewicz.Stanislaw made a medical discovery that seemed minor but proved monumental. He found that healthy people could be injected with a typhoid vaccine that would make them test positive for the deadly disease without actually contracting it.Eugene hatched a brilliant plan. He knew that Germans tended to be germaphobes and were terrified of typhus, a contagious bacterial disease. When a Polish town was found to be infected with typhus, the German occupiers would quarantine the entire area. Eugene also knew that by implementing his plan, he risked the death penalty, which applied to Poles who helped Jews. Undeterred by the risk, Eugene injected thousands of people with typhus and sent blood samples to the Germans to report the “epidemic.” He made sure to inject non-Jews as well as Jews, so the Nazis wouldn’t just come in and massacre all the Jews in town. Because it appeared to be a widespread epidemic, the Nazis stayed clear of Rozwadow. By late 1943, the Gestapo was suspicious. The entire town was supposedly infested with typhus, yet nobody was dying. Eugene learned a German medical team was being sent to the quarantined area. He frantically approached the oldest and sickest-looking people in town and asked them to wait in a squalid shack. When the visitors arrived, the villagers welcomed them with a party - featuring large quantities of vodka. After the celebration, the German doctors were taken to the “patients.” Eugene said, “I told them to be my guest and examine the patients, but to be careful because the Polish are dirty and full of lice, which transfer typhus.”The doctors quickly took blood samples without conducting full examinations of the patients. When the samples tested positive for typhus, the German health authorities were satisfied the epidemic was still raging. They never came back.After the war, Eugene didn’t tell anybody of his heroic acts, not even his wife. It wasn’t until a documentary was produced in 2000 about the fake epidemic that Eugene received the accolades he deserved. He passed away in 2006 at age 92.For risking his his life to save the Jews of Rozwadow, Poland, we honor Dr. Eugene Lazowski as this week’s Thursday Hero. Accidental Talmudist It’s important to remember that not all heroes wear tights and a cape. : meara-eldestofthemall: girlactionfigure: Eugene Lazowski was a Polish doctor who saved thousands of Jews during the Holocaust by creating a fake epidemic that kept the Germans away from their town. Eugene received his medical degree before the war started. After Germany invaded Poland in 1939, he became a military doctor with the Polish resistance. He was imprisoned in a German POW camp for his anti-Nazi activities. After his release in 1942, Eugene moved to a small town, Rozwadow, with his wife and young daughter. There he reunited with a friend from medical school, Stanislaw Matulewicz.Stanislaw made a medical discovery that seemed minor but proved monumental. He found that healthy people could be injected with a typhoid vaccine that would make them test positive for the deadly disease without actually contracting it.Eugene hatched a brilliant plan. He knew that Germans tended to be germaphobes and were terrified of typhus, a contagious bacterial disease. When a Polish town was found to be infected with typhus, the German occupiers would quarantine the entire area. Eugene also knew that by implementing his plan, he risked the death penalty, which applied to Poles who helped Jews. Undeterred by the risk, Eugene injected thousands of people with typhus and sent blood samples to the Germans to report the “epidemic.” He made sure to inject non-Jews as well as Jews, so the Nazis wouldn’t just come in and massacre all the Jews in town. Because it appeared to be a widespread epidemic, the Nazis stayed clear of Rozwadow. By late 1943, the Gestapo was suspicious. The entire town was supposedly infested with typhus, yet nobody was dying. Eugene learned a German medical team was being sent to the quarantined area. He frantically approached the oldest and sickest-looking people in town and asked them to wait in a squalid shack. When the visitors arrived, the villagers welcomed them with a party - featuring large quantities of vodka. After the celebration, the German doctors were taken to the “patients.” Eugene said, “I told them to be my guest and examine the patients, but to be careful because the Polish are dirty and full of lice, which transfer typhus.”The doctors quickly took blood samples without conducting full examinations of the patients. When the samples tested positive for typhus, the German health authorities were satisfied the epidemic was still raging. They never came back.After the war, Eugene didn’t tell anybody of his heroic acts, not even his wife. It wasn’t until a documentary was produced in 2000 about the fake epidemic that Eugene received the accolades he deserved. He passed away in 2006 at age 92.For risking his his life to save the Jews of Rozwadow, Poland, we honor Dr. Eugene Lazowski as this week’s Thursday Hero. Accidental Talmudist It’s important to remember that not all heroes wear tights and a cape.
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chalamets: The Last Jedi resolved the intrigue surrounding the heroine of this new sequel-trilogy, Rey, and her parentage with a gracefully simple, bold assertion: Rey is… just Rey. Not the daughter of some space aristocracy or legacy lineage, but a hero of her own making. […] That Rey’s parents were ordinary people meant anyone from anywhere could be born a hero; what determined a person’s place in the world was who they chose to be, rather than their last name. “Rey is our protagonist. And the truth is, in the story, the toughest possible thing for her to hear is, you know, you’re not gonna get the easy answer that you’re so-and-so’s daughter, this is your place,” [Rian] Johnson told me after The Last Jedi’s release. “You’re gonna have to stand on your own two feet and define yourself in this world.” Instead of taking the baton from Last Jedi and running with it to new heights, The Rise of Skywalker retreats right back into the safety of nostalgia. […] It’s as if Abrams and Terrio scrambled for a loophole specifically to mollify the “fans” upset that this hero—worse, this girl—dared to wield such incredible abilities with only her own strength […] Bookending the saga Anakin began with the story of a girl from nowhere who sets right what he helped unbalance might have been resonant. But who cares for that when there’s another billion-dollar franchise to set up and potential spin-offs to tease? — Melissa Leon, ‘The Rise of Skywalker’ Erases the Power of Rey’s Story and Surrenders to Sexist Trolls : chalamets: The Last Jedi resolved the intrigue surrounding the heroine of this new sequel-trilogy, Rey, and her parentage with a gracefully simple, bold assertion: Rey is… just Rey. Not the daughter of some space aristocracy or legacy lineage, but a hero of her own making. […] That Rey’s parents were ordinary people meant anyone from anywhere could be born a hero; what determined a person’s place in the world was who they chose to be, rather than their last name. “Rey is our protagonist. And the truth is, in the story, the toughest possible thing for her to hear is, you know, you’re not gonna get the easy answer that you’re so-and-so’s daughter, this is your place,” [Rian] Johnson told me after The Last Jedi’s release. “You’re gonna have to stand on your own two feet and define yourself in this world.” Instead of taking the baton from Last Jedi and running with it to new heights, The Rise of Skywalker retreats right back into the safety of nostalgia. […] It’s as if Abrams and Terrio scrambled for a loophole specifically to mollify the “fans” upset that this hero—worse, this girl—dared to wield such incredible abilities with only her own strength […] Bookending the saga Anakin began with the story of a girl from nowhere who sets right what he helped unbalance might have been resonant. But who cares for that when there’s another billion-dollar franchise to set up and potential spin-offs to tease? — Melissa Leon, ‘The Rise of Skywalker’ Erases the Power of Rey’s Story and Surrenders to Sexist Trolls
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