This is going to be a lengthy one, so if you fancy reading, grab a cuppa...or a vodka
This passage is partly for myself, hoping that writing it out will work as a form of therapy, God knows I've tried every other form, and partly to help those in a similar circumstance.
Background
My dad (a very smart gent, who had a real education and sense of life) became a JW in his mid-twenties (after his mother started studying) and went to MTS. During this time, he met my mother, a lady who was home-schooled and followed the traditional route for a JW woman- pioneer and work at either a care home, as a cleaner or in a little shop.
They moved to where my dad was posted- a little town that needed a new hall- so my dad set it up, and so began him being super duper famous in the eyes of all the congregation members. They got married and had me- 'the baby of the hall' (given everyone else was like 108) and then a few years later, my brother. For a long time, it was just us 4. Dad was a 'great elder' so we spent most of our time travelling to different halls for him to give talks... a few people referred to him as 'modern day Jesus'. We very quickly became 'that family'. You know, the ones who do *every* demonstration at assemblies and constantly seem perfect. As you can imagine, it was all pretty tiring to keep up when you are being asked, "What would you like to be when you're older?" and you know fine well you cant give an honest answer such as teacher or midwife, you *have* to say pioneer or bethel member.
Fast forward 7 years or so and my mum decides she wants more children and needs my dad to help out more. They had my second brother and dad stepped down as an elder to be more on hand. Mum then decided that, given the age gap, my second brother would be really lonely growing up and convinced my dad to have a fourth child- my third brother. A year went by and much to everyone's dismay- she was pregnant again! This would be with my little sister, who thankfully, really was the last child.
Now, my mum ( like a lot of Jws) comes from a family who all suffer from mental health problems. This unexpected child made her go bat shit crazy and seriously depressed and she basically lived in her bedroom whilst I (age 14) dropped out of school and raised my 3 youngest siblings. This made me grow up *super* fast and ashamedly, resent my mother for taking away my childhood. My dad turned to drinking to cope and he was removed as a servant.
In a matter of years we had gone from 'the perfect family' to one that was barely keeping our heads above water.
Skip ahead a few years and I had gotten baptised (after being pressured for years to do so), gone to night school to do my GCSE's and I myself was on anti depressants. I had started working 55 hours a week in a nursery for £2.50 an hour and my siblings went there with me for childcare. Of course, the wage I earnt went to my family as 'money is greed'. I barely had a social life and was desperate to find someone, get married and leave.
I should add though, that regardless of all of that, we were a very close family, especially me and the three little ones, and my dad was like my best friend.
Where it started to get really shit
On one of the rare occasions I could go out, I met who would later be, the biggest mistake of my life.
Someone who at the time, made me feel like the most special person in the world... someone who liked me, for me. To cut an incredibly long story short, he was the biggest manipulator I have ever met. He told me that in order for me to be free from my current situation, I needed to marry him, and before he would consider doing that, he needed to sleep with me first to see if I was good enough for commitment. I thought this was normal. I had never been taught about boys, my parents never let me text or really communicate with any, so here started my long line of getting abused by various men.
After him sleeping with me whenever he demanded it, (I was too dumb to see that I was actually just being raped) he told me I should go part-time and pioneer so that no one caught on to what we were doing. My congregation absolutely adored him, as did my family, so again, I thought that I had found someone great and this was it.
One night I had a call from him saying he had gone on holiday with my best friend and had accidentally kissed her. I was so head over heals for this fucker that I said it was ok, and we could stay together. This completely messed up my head though and I turned to anything that I thought would take away my problems... mainly all the things I had seen my mum doing- popping any kind of pill to sleep, self harm and drinking. I really didn't care about what was happening to me, and it seemed as if no one else did either.
Going forward a year (one that consisted of more lows than highs) and we had planned a wedding. Blah blah blah, I got a phone-call from him one day telling me that my best friend had decided she was 'ready to date him now' so things between us were over. I was beyond crushed. What now? He was my scape goat... he was what everyone wanted for me. I knew he was a piece of shit, and yet even he didn't want me.
Yay, judicial and disfellowshipping
To top all of that that off, 3 weeks later he calls me again to tell me that he drunkenly told his new girlfriend that we had been sleeping together and she had now told his elders. They in turn had then told mine and a judicial was about to be held, so I 'should probably tell my parents before someone else did'...then asked if I wanted to pray with him for everything to be ok. LOL, you read correctly. What a twat.
I went downstairs and told my parents. My mum turned it into a Spanish inquisition and my dad didn't say a word, just placed his head in his hands. I couldn't work out which was worse.
A few days rolled by and it was my judicial. There sat 6 elders and my ex, in a circle, with a space for me. They asked for every position, for the exact number of sexual encounters, if he had ejaculated in me and even asked if I had been on my period for any of it. FUCKING CREEPS is all I can say about that. I'm pretty sure they were just doing it for their wankbanks.
They listened to both of our versions, his worlds apart from mine, and then took us into separate rooms to see if we had anything else to add and then deliver us the end result.
My elders immediately decided for me to be disfellowshipped (which, fair one, I had broken the rules) but his elders took 3 hours to decide, and 2 of them believed what he had done didn't warrant a disfellowshipping. *rolls eyes*. Eventually though, we were both disfellowshipped.
Life after being disfellowshipped
(For some background information, I had just started a teaching course and was being diagnosed with what wold later be discovered as endometriosis stage 4 and a load of other illnesses that basically meant I was in pain 24/7)
If I wasn't at work I had to stay in my bedroom...which had a lock on it for when the Saturday ministry group or family members came round, just to reassure everyone that I wasn't going to run out of my room and try and fuck people, as clearly, that's what you do when you've been disfellowshipped for sexual immorality.
It had now been 6 months of sitting in the back of a kingdom hall, people shaking their heads at me when they walked by and I was getting pretty done with it. I had told my parents that Wednesdays were staff meeting night- but they were actually pub quiz night at the local Weatherspoons. I would go there every week, neck as many drinks as I could, then go home. I had started to realise that there is actually a really nice world outside of being a JW, not a terrifying one like its made out to be.
One Saturday I told my mum I was going for an ice-cream with my friend. She told me that if I do, i would return to packed bags and that would no longer be my home. I went anyway, and upon my arrival, she really had stuck to her word, and i was being kicked out.
I cant talk much about the events of that day, and i don't really think i'll ever be strong enough to talk about them to be honest. But just know, it was really, really hard and has truly fucked me up for the rest of my life. *cue emotional breakdown and panic attack having just thought about it*
Life in 'The Big Bad World'
So I was now officially in the world, all alone, living with a colleague.
I made some amazing friends, all of whom have stuck by me ever since, but also got myself into another atrocious relationship. Blah blah blah again, he was a gambler and also someone who again, just had sex with me whenever they wanted to... on one occasion i was screaming and crying so loudly that his own mother came in and pushed him off me. Great times.
I got a flat with my best friend, broke up with that utter piece of shit (which took forever as he fully played the suicide card etc) and made him set up a standing order to pay back the £13,000 he had stolen off me.
It had been about 2/3 years now since I was kicked out. I had no contact with anyone in my family, other than my Dad messaging me to see if I had been at the Ariana Grande gig when it was blown up. (No, im not a fan of hers, i think he just momentarily cared and wondered if i was dead or alive). After he was reassured that i was very much alive, they went back to crossing the street if they saw me etc.
Reinstatement
One day I got a call from my dad, my grandma was dying and they would 'allow me' to go and say my goodbyes. So i did, and i took my brother with me. They gave me a set time so that i wasn't around when they were. The car journey was about 2 hours long and my brother spent literally the entire time emotionally blackmailing me to come back. It worked.
I called my dad and told him I was going to start coming back to meetings, and ta-da, everyone started talking to me again. Only occasionally mind, i was still a bad influence. He came to pick me up and sat in the second school with me. My little sister ran straight out and turned to my dad to ask if she could hug me. He said yes, and for the first time in 3 years, i held my little girl again. I felt so disgustingly selfish, like how could i have ever left and why on earth did i do this to her.
That was my new focus, i was going to come back and then fade away, anything that meant having those kids back in my life.
My saving grace however being that i still lived in my flat, so other than a Thursday and Sunday, i lived quite a normal life, and no one speaking to me at meetings meant i could rock up and sit silently, nursing my hangover.
I was attending meetings routinely when i got a call from the hospital, saying that i needed an emergency operation and it would be one that would put me out of working, driving and even walking for the best part of 6 weeks. I told the elders and they said they could understand me not attending on the week of my operation, but anything longer than that would hinder my reinstatement. How nice and understanding.
Cutting my ridiculously long story short, my mother had a breakdown and they decided to reinstate me sooner than originally planned for fear of my mum killing herself about me not being back to do her jobs again.
Everything was good again family wise, but then came along all of the pressures. I had to study with two sisters, go on the ministry and attend all meetings. My health meant i really struggled to do a lot of these, but i was basically told to shut up and get on with it by the elders.
Things with my family were so lovely again, even though my mum would say things like, "I know Jehovah has forgiven you, and now hopefully, one day we can too." The emotional blackmail never stops.
MY 'WORLDLY' PARTNER... NOW HUSBAND
During this time my best friend had downloaded Tinder in a hope for me to find someone to go on a double date with her and her partner of the time. I really wasn't into that idea but would find myself flicking through it when adverts came up on TV... and so one day i swiped right to the love of my life.
After a while of talking, we met up and he really, really was everything I had been looking for. I'm not just saying that because he's on here too lol.
He took on all of my shit, loved me for who i am and has held me through every breakdown ive had since. As our relationship progressed, I gradually explained the whole JW story. How on earth do you explain that to someone? I used to just say things that gave some context to what was going on, but it was never enough. "Yeah, my family are... uhh... really religious. Like really religious," I'd say - he'd just laugh and say it was okay. He really had no idea!
As time went on I realised he's a complete nerd as he went and read everything there is to know about Witnesses. Literally everything he could find. I was still going to my Bible Study (one of the terms of my reinstatement) and would turn up at his house crying that the world was going to end. He'd have to give me a hug and explain that it's a load of crap and why. I was comforted, but didn't particularly listen to the reasons. I'd just get on with it.
We reached a point where we were ready to move in together. He was still totally secret to anyone who was a Witness, but we had plenty of friends outside so it didn't matter. I got really upset because I thought I'd never be able to move in with him, and for the briefest of moments thought it'd just be easier if he became a Witness too. He said he'd think of a plan, and a couple of days later he came back with one.
My flatmate was reaching a point where she could no longer afford to live in the flat we shared, and my partner had just got a big four bed house to rent. He said that I should tell my parents I was moving in to a house share with a guy and a girl, both of them middle-class working people and not students. I told my parents I'd be renting a room there, and my mum wasn't particularly pleased. Obviously she didn't think it was appropriate I live with worldly people, and was concerned I'd turn into a heroin slut and all that really accurate stuff. I also managed - somehow - convinced the Sisters I did my study with that this was the best idea ever. Nobody really had much of a choice anyway, and we moved in to what would become the first home I'd had since I left the original one.
In order to keep up the facade, my boyfriend and I had to set up two additional rooms in the house to belong to me and the other phantom housemate. We borrowed clothes off one of our good friends and filled the room with her stuff. 'My room' also had all my things stored in it, and then the master bedroom (where we actually slept) had all my partner's things in it. He thought it was crazy we had to go to such lengths, and couldn't believe one religion had such power over people, but we went with it nonetheless.
My parents visited the house, and really had no idea that anything was awry. My boyfriend played a fantastic flatmate that seemed completely disinterested in me and was focused entirely on work, whilst often being 'away' on business trips. My parents thought he was really nice though (mainly because they didn't think we were together).
So, for the best part of a year I played the simultaneous rolls of contrite and repenting JW and regular, normal me all that same time. PIMO, I guess, though I still believe in God - just not the version of him that is written down in JW literature. It turns out, as I'm sure many of you can relate, that this is extremely mentally taxing. It was the biggest burden to bare. Sitting through meetings when I thought most of it (apart from the practical advice and nicer readings) was a load of utter fucking codswallop. It was a nightmare going to studies, going to meetings and dying of boredom, or going to the shitting ministry. I refused to knock on any doors.
Eventually, like trying to run with an anvil swinging around my ankles, it became too much. I was perpetually exhausted. I had a condition that made me extremely fatigued and left me in an awful amount of pain. I worked every day, and every day I wasn't asleep or working I was plastering a fake smile on and sitting through another meeting. The mental burden was exhausting.
I decided to call it quits.
PIMO TO POMO
Much to my partner's surprise, I just told my family one day that I was no longer going to attend meetings. They took it in a similar fashion to how I imagine a regular family would if I walked into their home on a Sunday and took a steamy piss all over their freshly-cooked dinner. Much sadness ensued. The normal defensive measures were initiated.

Claims of rampant selfishness and clearly not wanting paradise.
"How could you do this to [insert most emotionally blackmailing option possible]?"
"How can you do this to Jehovah?"
Repeat Step 2.
Inform Elders.
Have other important people in your life repeat Step 2.
Soft Shun

Need I say more? Thankfully, my immediate family made the decision to hang around. They carried on talking to me, and I'm fairly certain that Disfellowship Round 1 was so hard on my Dad that he didn't want to do it again. My extended family, however, took it upon themselves to shun me without formally shunning me. The soft shun. They still do to this day.
So I was now relatively free. I couldn't be blatantly obvious with my relationship, but after removing all Witnesses from my social media, I could post the odd picture or two of us together. I think my Dad had seriously caught on to me being with my boyfriend, and he even came for a night out with us. We'd never properly told him, and he was content to accept that he just happened to be home when we went out so invited him along. We had a really good time.
MARRYING SAID WORLDLY MAN
We had a really good thing going. My family (with the exception of my mum) sort of accepted the status quo. This became slightly more difficult when my boyfriend proposed, despite the fact it was a perfectly natural point to make that step. How the hell would we tell my parents? Then we'd absolutely be living in sin. I'd have to move out, and it would be atrocious. We meant everything to each other, so to go from my home to living somewhere crap just to satisfy someone else's religion didn't sit well with us.
We told my family, and said we'd still be living together in the run up to getting married. We were due to get married about 9 months later, and everything was fine until my mum told an Elder's wife the situation. Then it all kicked off. They tried to call me to 'learn the facts' to work out what to do. I was petrified. They called me when I was at dinner, and I almost froze. I started to immediately go into a panic attack, and all the old horrible feelings returned. My husband urged me to end the conversation and said that he'd call back. I was really surprised he said that.
WORLDLY MAN VS ELDER
That night, he did call them back. I didn't realise how much reading he'd actually done about Witnesses. All our doctrine, history, supposedly supporting scriptures. The lot. He spoke to the elders for about 45 minutes, and I sat at the door browning my pants whilst in tears. He told them exactly what the effects of disfellowshipping people are, how it causes lasting mental trauma and severe abandonment issues. They didn't like hearing this. In fact, they didn't like having a 'worldly' person armed with logic and knowledge having anything to do with them. He knew about the two witness rule, so told them categorically that we weren't intimate in any way and that they had no biblical grounds to take any action and therefore, they should very politely, fuck the fuck off. Also, if they fancied a meeting with me, he'd come along for moral support as there was no scriptural reason he couldn't and we wouldn't want to go beyond what is written, would we?
They left me alone, funnily enough. I've not heard from them since. They even left my family alone when it came to anything relating to me. They really, really did not like speaking to my husband. Crazy. I treated him well for that.
HAPPY(ER) ENDING
So now I'm married. I have all the family I need. It's been a lot of work, we have a child on the way, and our relationship is rock solid. We live in the same city as my family, and we all get on great. My husband is like a police attack dog whenever anything JW related is brought up, which has led to some heated debates and has resulted in us not talking about religion, ever. For anyone who has read this far and has wondered if things ever turn out alright, they really can do. Just hang in there.
WHAT DO I THINK OF MY TIME AS A WITNESS NOW?
A. Load. Of. Shit. The only positives I can take are the good Christian qualities I was instilled with as a child. They teach you nothing about life, and woefully underprepare you for anything that is not relating to the organisation. You live your life constantly in fear of something that won't ever happen.
The evidence that is out there - if you take the two seconds it takes to look - that really exposes the gaping holes in the doctrine. When I first left, my husband would try and explain to me why different parts of the Watchtower's interpretation is plain wrong, but I didn't really listen. I didn't want to listen, or to think about how stupid I'd been. It was just something I grew up with, I was out now, and that was good enough. I didn't want it any more.
Gradually, as time has passed and I've spoken about the worst bits with my husband, I've been slightly more open to looking at different views on the religious front. Not that I was closed-minded, I just never studied in any detail what you're required to believe as a Witness. I still felt like I was going to be struck down. The 'apostasy' stuff is so ingrained in us that it's almost life long. You feel that pang of guilt or fear when you think something is saying anything bad about JWs or their beliefs. It turns out, they don't really have the truth.
It started with my husband letting my know about the child abuse investigations, which disgusted me. He showed me the scriptures about shunning and how they're misapplied, and we spoke about blood at length. Blood was one of the only things I kept up whilst DF'd, but I can quite clearly see now it's a terrible interpretation of the scripture. We spoke about religion and God and everything at length, and he sat and listened to what I believed.
He joined this site and read about other people's experiences online - he's boring like that. After three months of showing me the odd thread, I find myself sat here now typing all this out. It's unbelievably therapeutic. It's great to know though, that there are other people out there who understand what it's like, that I'm not alone.
So, there you go... it really can get better.
For those of you who got to the end, bloody well done!

GME Benefits 4 All (Children’s Hospital, Employees, and young customers in hard financial situations) 🚀🥜

Edit: I am not rich or wealthy by any means. I grew up in a low income but hard working immigrant household and parents who absolutely risked everything for me to have an opportunity in US. But like most can agree, those who know what it’s like are more likely to give back.

I’ve noticed a lot of users making similar threads and those are all wonderful. I’ve been trying to get attention to Children’s hospital for over a month but my efforts haven’t gotten any attention. I’m also including other people because of things I’ve seen whenever I’ve gone to GME stores.
This post will include 4 scenarios where we can help out. (There are plenty on Autism already, just don’t do Autism Speaks)
You don’t have to read all of them, just navigate to what interests you.

Children’s Hospitals: This one is close to my heart, and a brief story about it will be included at the bottom.

I’m buying PUR Memberships on their behalf AFTER speaking with someone in charge and verifying etc. Full details at bottom.

Sad side of GME: I’ve seen so many young customers come with their parents (usually minorities) and want to buy a product, but the parent realizes it is above what they were expecting and could afford. Given how small stores are, everyone in the store hears that and the kid is just embarrassed. This was me growing up...
The employees, remember today is a pro day sale. Perfect time to drop by with 🍕and drinks. It’s all relative, just like how many shares we can buy.
Offer few $10 GC to random people (maybe even to customers who are in store today but aren’t pro members...they can use it and become one...)

Speaking of shares

Never feel bad or ashamed that you can’t buy as some people on here. Buy anything you can, you don’t need to be a whale, you need to be an ant. Ever noticed how ants work together and carry big pieces of food? Well folks, we are all ants, some just bigger than others. Do your part, we break down walls, and we all feast together and can spread the wealth.
Alright, I’m going to include my original post from after we went private but couldn’t post here...mainly because I’m going to own up to what I said about BB and PLTR. I was wrong about it, however, the money put into those would’ve still got more returns yesterday in GME and definitely going forward....

1. Children’s Hospital

Call up your local children’s hospital, ask for the donations department and speak with them.

little story time

I have a cousin who had major health problems when he was 9, he spent most of the year in the children’s hospital. I spent many days taking care of my other cousin / his 8 year old brother when the parents were working. It wrecked havoc on their life, but nothing gets me more than seeing how it affected my cousins.
The one in the hospital would question if he would be “normal” again. The other one that I would look after, one time he turned around and asked if God really exists, and if he did, why is he doing this.
Holy fuck, I was just in my 20s trying to bang chicks before Tinder...I didn’t know how to handle situations like this.
Anyways, now that I got your attention...
Ask the person in charge of the Donations / Children’s Life department of what’s acceptable etc.
If you’ve remembered my posts, I’ve always had plans of starting a mass donation / charity effort.
Based on my conversation with the lady in charge of the department, this is what she said would be the best option for that specific location, yours may vary.
I offered to have a PUR membership and give them a choice of digital vs physical copy of Game Informer. (Digital would require every kid signing in to same account...so not a possibility and best to go with Physical.)
No this isn’t specific to GME, but if you’re playing 💎💎💎🚀🚀🚀.
If you’re not playing GME, you can still make some kid’s day.
Anyways, the lady said physical copy would be best because they can decide who would be the best candidate to enjoy it.
You can also use the hospital’s phone number and let them know to utilize the account’s certificates for toys etc. There’s usually quite a few stuff on clearance that they can pick up, or you can etc.
Maybe you’ve got more tendies to spare, ask them if they would be interested in Nintendo switches or traditional consoles. Buy used ones...with warranty...so if something happens, they can easily be swapped out.
Ultimately it’s about making some kid’s life a little better in the dark, alone, segregated (even more now with Covid) and miserable time they are going through.
Love you all, even the 🌈🐻, the ones who think BB has a chance, and the PLTR buyers in end of Nov.

2. Sad side of GME

This applied to me...I experienced this growing up.

I had to save up money at 9 ( $70 )to buy a GBC (seemed forever) and when I was 12 I bought a N64 + 1 game when everybody else was buying newer consoles. That’s all I could afford with money I saved and how long it took me to get enough money. That one game was the only game I was ever able to get.
I love my parents, I’m grateful for them. They risked everything for me to come to America and have a chance at life. It’s hard to understand that at a young age, but I am grateful for them and still grateful to have them. But at a young age and not being able to afford things that everyone else has...well it affects the kid, not just mentally, but may also cause a small % of kids to go down the wrong path for reasons related to lack of $.
The sad side of GME is not because of GME, but GME’s tiny store and close proximity layout which makes it more noticeable than any other store.
Needless to say, the whole store hears the parent saying they can’t afford it (because of an extra ~$20) and the kid is crushed and visibly affected by embarrassment and as of how everyone else just heard it. When you’re young, things take bigger toll on you mentally and hit you harder.
Anyways, it happens often, it may not be every time you go in, but I’ve noticed it too often.
I’ve thought about offering to cover, but that would add on to the embarrassment of a stranger doing it in person...I know I would’ve been even more embarrassed if a stranger did that right in front of me.
So, how about making a great relationship with the store manager or store lead etc, and offer to have a “special GC” for that reason.
Fill it up with $50 or whatever you feel like on a monthly or however often / after big plays...and ask them to use a portion of it for such customers.
This shouldn’t be customer wanted $80 product but up sold them with $100 product and offer to cover $50 with that GC....
It should really be like “hey we’ve got a customer who has donated some money and we can cover the extra $15 here etc”
Thoughts?

3. Employees:

Goes without saying, they are the front line and face of the company to the average customer. Today is PRO day, even dropping by with pizza and drinks would make a huge difference.

4. Random people:

Buy 1 or a few $10 GC, offer them separately and different times / places for people to claim them for free.
You’ve now made someone save $10, and they will use it towards something at GME. Let them know it was made possible with the PUR membership and now they can have their own rewards and benefits for only $5...customer for life. Maybe suggest that on a month they won’t be using the certificate to use it for a GC in a similar way and pay it forward to someone else’s membership.
Thanks for reading, make your tendies in whatever ticker you want, but 💎💎 hand with GME because we haven’t even started the squeeze. PS I personally believe in the long haul 2023 turnaround....
Donations are like gains, sure it’d be nice to have huge amounts, but it’s all relative, just like anything else in life. Give with pure intentions and that’s all that matters.

🚨🚨NOKle HEADS ITS GENERAL CHEESE WITH THE UPDATE. GET IN THE BRIEFING ROOM. WE NEED TO DISCUSS. 🚨🚨

Realities of a Minor's Life on the Road

Thanks to u/jouscat for providing the inspiration for this post with her amazing post, Realities of a Woman's Life on the Road. That was a couple months ago, but I figured my experiences and what I've learned could help people, hopefully as much as Scat's. Also, thanks to her and Pokebert (u/2717192619192) for reviewing this post and providing some great suggestions.
From the beginning my parents just didn't care. My dad was an abusive meth addict, often hitting me, but I never let him hit my sister. My mom was less on the abusive side and more on the passed-out-heroin-addict side. From the time I was 11 or so, I could disappear for days on end without them caring or sometimes even realizing, and the summer after 8th grade, I decided to use that to my advantage. I wrote a quick note telling them that I'd be back within a month or two, packed up a bag, read through all the vagabond advice posts I could find, and then hopped a boxcar out from my little town near Sacramento. Right as it pulled out, the door slammed shut, almost taking my finger with it. The train ended up taking me to Elko, Nevada, where I wandered around town for a couple hours before figuring out to hitchhike.
Since then I've been all over the West, and also last summer I did a big circuit around the east, from New Orleans to Atlanta to Asheville to New York and then back to the land of cowboys and dust via a high-priority train that took me from Chicago to Denver. I've had some great experiences, and some horrible ones, which I'll be talking about here. My aim for this post is to prepare you youngsters for what's waiting for you once you run away, so I won't spend much time on the good part.
To Run Away or Not to Run Away?
I ran away because I hated living at home. I wasn't abused too much (not exactly a ringing endorsement), just completely fucking ignored. There were sometimes streaks of several days where I didn't talk to my parents despite being in the same little house as them. I had a couple friends at school, but I was an outcast for the most part. If I had the chance to relive that time in my life with everything I know now, I don't know if I'd run away again. The abuse started out not so bad, but it started to get worse, so I ran. If you're not getting badly hurt or abused, which is better than a lot of people can say, stay at home. Running away is only justified in very abusive situations, whether physical, mental, or emotional. It's a life-altering decision. But if you've got that itch to go, there's nothing I can say that could stop you. When I left there was no fucking way I could've been talked out of it.
Don't take the decision lightly, though. Read through this post and all the other great resources on this sub and vagabond, hear all the shit that's happened to me over just three summers on the road, and then decide. Does it sound worse than what's happening to you? If so, think long and hard about it. Could it get worse? Better? What are your other options? If it sounds like a piece of cake compared to your home life, go for it.
How to Run Away?
I honestly can't help you with the emotional side of this one. I just got up and left, no shits given. As I said in the first paragraph, I just left a short note for my parents, and then a longer one for my sister. My friend, on the other hand, did. I'll call her Annie (not her actual name), I'll let her tell her story.

I've been in and out of the foster care system since I was 9. I ran away from every home they put me in after a couple months. Sometimes I didn't even unpack my bag. At first I'd just jump out the window at night and then bike to the next town over, mostly just to make a point, but then they got smart and made it so I couldn't open the window more than a couple inches. After that, I would sneak out and open the front door. I got caught a couple times like that. At first my attempts to run away weren't very successful. People pay attention to a 10 year old on the streets. But around 12 or 13, I was able to stay away for longer. I could take a greyhound to the nearest big city and get lost there, and after a month or a couple they'd find me or I'd come back, and it would start all over again.
When I was almost 14, I was placed into a foster home that I genuinely liked. The "mom" and "dad" were caring and provided for us well, and the other kids told me it was good. But as time wore on, I saw that it wasn't at all perfect. One of the kids was involved in drug dealing, and was tangled up with a gang, and the "parents" sometimes let their anger break through, and would sometimes hit me or the other kids. Two days before the last day of school, the "mom" sent me out to find the kid that was into drug dealing, since he hadn't come home for dinner. I knew he spent a lot of his time in this one alley downtown, so I went there. I turned the corner and practically ran into him. He pulled out a switchblade and stabbed me.
It didn't look like he realized who I was until a couple seconds later, then he tried to comfort me. Apparently I'd ran into a big drug deal, and he was on edge. On edge enough to stab me, at least. He got me in the boob, so I wasn't too badly hurt. I decided that I couldn't take it any more, so I went back home, grabbed a few things, and told them I was spending the night at a friend's house. Instead I spent the night out by the creek, and then the next day at school, I asked the author of this post (who I was already really good friends with) if I could come with him. He said sure, and here I am now. I haven't entered a foster home since I picked up a change of clothes after school that day. My wounded tit is an object of much curiosity from everybody who sees me topless, for anyone who was wondering.

What to Bring?
As for gear and transportation, I'm more well-versed in that. The first time I left home, I went extremely bare-bones. To put all of my shit in, I brought a medium-sized hiking backpack that I got from Goodwill. It wasn't one of the fancy ones from Osprey or whatever, just a canvas sack. You need to think about the essentials first, not fancy trinkets. That means food, water, and shelter. I would bring a sleeping bag and a tarp (shelter), canned foods and other high-nutrition foods (food), and a milk jug full of water. Don't start out trainhopping, but if/when you eventually do (after getting a mentor), bring two or more full gallon jugs full of water. Also don't bring a tent. They're bulky, heavy, expensive, and they attract attention. I find a tarp to be much more useful.
Beyond the essentials, there's things that you could live without, but are good to have.

Lighter and tinder. A campfire can cook food and keep you warm, both of which will be needed.
Some paracord. Useful for fastening shit to your backpack and much more. Don't take too much, if you have to cut it burn the ends to keep it from fraying.
A pocketknife. I'll put in a defense section after this, but a pocketknife is good for cooking and eating too. I used to have a Leatherman Juice, which I unfortunately lost a couple months ago. I now have a Wave+, which probably is too heavy.
Dr. Bronners soap. This soap is gold. It cleans everything from bodies to plates to hair, and you barely need to use a drop. Alternatively, dish soap is good, or even a bar of soap.
Fishing stuff. I like to fish, all you really need is a good long stick, a couple hooks/lures, a swivel and a bunch of fishing line. It takes some practice, but you can eat like a king with a whopper catfish cooked over an open fire. The best fishing rod is bamboo. I've got a homemade one that I bought from an old Cajun dude near Thibodaux. No, his name wasn't Amos Moses.
First aid. Your generic first aid kit will be useless; bring stuff that will help you.
- Duct tape (not just first aid, this is good in general)
- Restaurant napkins (for bandages and toilet paper)
- Ibuprofen, Advil (or generic versions)
- Any personal medical stuff (epipens, prescriptions, etc) although I would be very cautious of running away with a prescription. You'll be found out if you try to refill it.
Clothes. You don't need a lot, I'll go over warmth in the next bullet point. You're not going to smell good, but you don't need to. Just bring a t-shirt and jeans, maybe a pair of shorts too. I have a baseball cap that I love. If you're travelling in the desert, wear a thin shirt with long sleeves, some light pants, and a hat with a wide brim on all sides.
Warm clothes. This depends, but there are some basics. I travel with a heavy flannel, a hunting jacket, and a rain shell. When I'm travelling in the fall/wintespring, which is a rarity, I add on insulated Carhartts and long john bottoms. The only time when that layout has been stressed was when I hopped a train during a blizzard around Christmas a couple years ago. I think it was about 15 or 20 below 0 and I was cold as fuck. If you're east of the Rockies you probably won't need much or any warmth during the summer, but I do a lot of travelling in high mountains, deserts, etc. where it can get below freezing any time of the year.
An instrument. I'm a trombone player, which is not the best instrument for trainhopping. Still, I manage. I've got a junky trombone that I strap to my pack (paracord!) or put inside, and take it everywhere, and then I've got a somewhat nicer one that I leave with a friend in NOLA. It's a pain in the ass to carry around, but it pays. I try to go to New Orleans for at least a couple weeks a year. It's paradise for a jazz musician. I busk a lot, often solo, sometimes with a partner. I once raked in $450 in 5 days busking in New Orleans with me, a vocalist, and a saxophonist, both of whom I just met on the street.
Money. Busking is a means to an end. Start off with at least $100. My first time I had $72, which ran out somewhere around Ogden, UT. Mormons can be very friendly, but not to buskers, so I pretty much starved until I got to Cheyenne. Other ways to make money:
- Farms. I grew up in the Central Valley of CA, where pretty much every vegetable or nut you eat comes from. Farms surround me. Here, you have to know Spanish to get a job, because 90% of the workers are Latino, and many are undocumented immigrants. Farm work here is fucking hard and for horrible wages, but it's usually easy to find if you know where to look.
- That's really the only one I can think of. Check out the Advice Directory over on vagabond (currently deleted due to shit going on there).
Headlamp. Flashlights are meh, but a good headlamp is indestructible and you don't need hands.
Toiletries. I like being clean, I will admit. Along with Dr. Bronners, mentioned above, I just take a normal toiletry kit: toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, that's about all. The girls I've traveled with just bring normal period products.
Weight. I go as light as I can, because my trombone weighs 12.5 pounds. My pack is usually around 30 or 35 pounds with the trombone, but if you don't have a heavy-ass instrument like me, you can be more lenient with trimming weight. I'm 6'1" and 160 pounds, so I carry more than most others, I think the ideal pack weight for somebody a bit smaller than me is more on the 25 pound side than the 35 pound side. The second summer I was on the road, I carried two trombones from California to New Orleans, bringing my pack weight up to around 45 pounds. That royally sucked. I don't recommend all that ultralight stuff, it won't last long on the streets, and it's crazy expensive. I once went into REI to buy a pair of long johns, and I was absolutely appalled at what these people will pay for the tiniest thing. Like, 100 bucks for a fancy chair? Nah, man, a log is much sturdier and less expensive, and you don't have to carry it around.

Protection
As I said earlier, I always have a pocketknife. I've got a leather holster strapped to my belt that I can easily pop open. Like jouscat said, it's no use if you can't get to it. At points in my "career", I've carried a hunting knife, bear spray, a switchblade (for a couple weeks in LA), and coins in a sock. DO NOT CALL ANYBODY'S BLUFF. If you're in a sketchy neighborhood or jungle, keep your knife in plain sight, but do not pull it on somebody unless you are prepared to use it. When I was 15, I pulled a knife on a crackhead in Missoula who was acting threatening and insane, as crackheads will. Bad idea. I woke up an hour later after he punched me in the side of the head and left me in the gravel. It could've been much worse. I woke up because a train was roaring by. He could've put my head on the rails. He could've dragged me back to his shack in the woods, and I would've been dead to the world, or for real dead. I could never use a knife on another person, thus the bear spray. I walked straight to downtown Missoula after I woke up and bought a can of bear spray. I usually keep it out when I'm in grizzly country, otherwise it looks out of place and suspicious. I have not had to use it yet.
If you're hitchhiking with somebody who's starting to look threatening, pull out an apple and slice it very carefully and deliberately. This is the oldest trick in the book, but it works.
Prostitution
According to the US Justice Department, "1/3 of teenagers on the street will be approached by a pimp within 48 hours of leaving home". I cannot stress this enough, DO NOT DO PROSTITUTION. I once met a prostitute in LA, who had been pulled into it at age 16 after she ran away from home because her stepfather was raping her. She said that running away was the worst thing that ever happened to her. She attempted to commit suicide after 6 months of it, but it just fucked her with a lot of hospital bills. As far as I know she's still a prostitute. Read this article about child prostitution in NYC (I think there's a paywall if you're on mobile). There's also this one that provides many very in-depth articles/videos about how people get sucked in, how they are kept in, and how they can get out. If anybody has more experience with this type of thing, comment, or post on runaway. I think it's not talked about as much as it should be.
My mother ran away from home at 16, a fact that I just learned recently. She was from Mexicali, crossed the border illegally and went up to Seattle, and then to Alaska. In Anchorage, she got addicted to heroin, and prostituted herself to survive. She eventually tried to go back to Mexico, but got waylaid 100 feet from the border by my dad, recently released from prison. Well, a year later, my dad moved 3-month old me and my mom up to Bakersfield, where he immediately got sent back to prison for beating my mom. She moved to Nevada with me, and of course wound up doing prostitution again. She never talked about it, but it must've been horrible. I wouldn't wish that on anybody, no matter how much pain they've caused me.
Where to Sleep
When it comes time to bed down, you may just want to crash wherever. But put some thought into your choice of location. If I'm hopping trains, I like to sleep at the edge of the yard. Usually there's some woods, or even just a patch of shrubs, that provide some visual protection. Don't sleep in jungles (hobo camps). Some people there are pretty insane. I'll spend the evening with them or whatever, but then sneak off to my own quiet corner of the yard so that I won't find myself robbed blind and with a knife in my back in the morning. If I'm hitchhiking, I'll ask them to drop me off next to a creek somewhere, preferably with some trees. I like sleeping next to creeks. Even if they're too polluted to drink from (always filter your water either way), they're still nice. Unless they attract mosquitos. That sucks.
If you can sleep on government land, that's the best, but I don't really worry about who owns the land. Leave no trace, and everybody's happy. BLM/State/National Forest land is the best, though, because it's legal, and usually prettier than some farm. Unless you're sure of your camping and defense skills, don't go too far out into the wilderness. There are weird people out there, and nature isn't forgiving.
Sleeping in town is no fun. Let's start from the outer ring and go in to the middle. If you sleep at the edge of town, you are likely to be stumbled upon by a bunch of drunk, possibly horny dudes who are trying not to get caught drinking by their wives. If you sleep in the suburbs, you are likely to get reported by some Karen for disturbing her perfect little world. If you sleep in an older part of town, you're likely to run into some illegal activity, and possibly get mugged. And if you sleep in the downtown/inner city, you'll be one of a thousand other homeless people, many who are mentally ill, and all who are competing for a limited number of benches, porches, doorsteps, and parks.
A note on abandoned houses. If there's not a whole lot of graffiti, and it's not very easily accessed, I'd go for it. Make sure to position yourself in a place where you can get out easily, though. If it has tons of graffiti, litter, old needles, etc., get the fuck out.
But if you do find a good spot, make sure to scope it out before going to bed. Are there multiple escape routes? Sketchy characters hanging around? Shit like that. If all is good, go right ahead. Don't make a fire in the western states during the summer unless there's a fire ring or you have a can or a barrel or something. Grass catches fire easier than you think, and starting a fire around here is a good way to start a hundred-thousand-plus acre fire.
Transportation
Start off hitchhiking. If you're running away, get as far away as you need to, and then you can try other ways to get around. Go to a freeway exit or a gas station and hold out your thumb. If you see somebody with a license plate from a state where you're trying to go, or near there, maybe walk up to them and ask for a ride. It might feel weird at first, but you'll get the hang of it. Also, be careful of who you ride with. Do they look threatening? Deranged? An addict? Don't go with them. The best people to go with are nice old ladies or young couples. Rarely ever do either of those people pick up hitchhikers. Usually I get rides with single dudes, often middle aged, even more often truckers. If you're a girl, the risk is even more elevated. I would not recommend hitchhiking if you don't think you could defend yourself from a big redneck with lots of experience getting in bar fights. There are too many creeps out there. Trust your instincts.
The summer of 2019 was the first (and only so far) time I traveled with a partner full-time. Annie and I were looking for a ride in Twin Falls, Idaho in September, and not having much luck. It took a day and a half, but finally we got a ride with an old dude who said his name was Benny and he was bound for Portland. Well, we went with him, because we really had no choice, even though I had a weird feeling about him. All was good until the stretch of nothingness in between Ontario and Baker City. He pulled off a highway exit called Weatherby, saying he had to go to the bathroom, but instead he turned up a one-lane gravel road and pulled out a gun, saying he'd shoot if we tried to flee. He took us way back in the woods to a hidden cove about 20 miles off the freeway, where he tried to tie me up. Thankfully, he turned his back on Annie, and she kicked him in the crotch and then in the head. Let me tell you, you do not want to be kicked anywhere on your body with steel-toed boots. We took his truck back to the interstate and then begged a ride with a trucker at the rest stop. I don't know what became of Benny, but that was a fucking horrible experience. He was after Annie, not me, and I don't think he was going to play patty-cake with her.
Trainhopping. Is dangerous. Is unreliable. But I love it. Get a mentor, and don't almost lose a finger like I did. Head on over to the advice directory on vagabond, there's some amazing stuff over there.
Hiking is slow, but great when you're in a remote, beautiful area. In 2019, I took 6 days to hike from Silverton, Colorado, to Monte Vista. 124 miles. It was insanely tiring though, even for two very fit teenagers.
Biking is faster than hiking, by quite a bit. I once biked from my hometown near Sacramento to Truckee in two days. After that I ditched the bike (it was free from the side of the interstate) and hopped a train out. Too much uphill travel, from 0 feet above sea level up to 7,500, and then back down to 6,000. All in about 120 miles.
By far the most novel method of travel I've tried is by boat. I floated/motored down the Mississippi River in 2019 from Memphis to New Orleans, almost 650 miles. I had a tiny metal rowboat with an outboard motor that worked maybe half the time. Annie and I averaged about 65 miles a day, stopping in pretty much every little village along the way and taking turns sleeping at night. It was kind of like Huck Finn, but with a noisy and finnicky motor. If I were to do it again I'd do it more Huckleberry-like, taking my time with a raft, and maybe an electric motor. Still, it was a great experience, and I'd recommend it if you can get your hands on a boat.
There are others, but I won't talk about them here.
People are Weird and Creepy and Horrible
Adults are pedophiles. Just assume that every adult will try to make an advance on you. Sorry to all y'all great adults, but it's better safe than sorry. Even as a 6'1" male, I've had random dudes and even a woman once try to seduce me. Annie and the other female partners I've traveled with have it even worse. When you're trainhopping and hitchhiking, it's unavoidable that you'll be travelling through the bad part of town. Almost every city has it, but especially cities in California and the Rust Belt. I don't have much experience with the East Coast, but I saw some pretty bad ghettos in Baltimore and Philly during my short stay there. NOLA has it really bad. The neighborhoods there have gotten a triple gut punch - they were already ghettos, they're mostly black, meaning society ignores their issues, and they were devastated by Hurricane Katrina in 2005. The ghettos anywhere have trafficking, murders, muggings, crazed homeless dudes, and more. Keep a low profile and stay away from shady characters (drug dealers/gang members).
If you get a bad feeling from someone, just nope the fuck out. Walk away if you're in a railyard or a gas station, or ask to get out if you're hitchhiking. Usually they'll let you out, but if they don't, say something about how you forgot that you were supposed to meet your (big stocky club bouncer) friend at the last freeway exit, and if you don't, they'll get worried. Works 9/10 times.
I'm going to let Annie write a section here on some of her experiences with creepy adults.

The summer of 2019 was the first time I had vagabonded. I needed to get away from my foster home, and I knew what SugarBowlSkier (Let's call him Jimmy) was doing, so I asked to come along with him. He said ok, and we left a couple days after the last day of school. We took a bus to Reno (had gotten almost free tickets from an old road buddy of Jimmy's who had to cancel). We were walking around a sketchy warehouse area east of the downtown, on our way to the Sparks yard, and Jimmy had ducked behind a building to take a leak. Some dude who had been in the shadows somewhere walked out and grabbed my boob. I punched him and yelled, and Jimmy came running back. I got out of that one fine, but I was fucking scared after that. Just 5 hours after leaving home. It might seem like I'm writing this easily, but it's fucking painful to talk about it.
Jimmy mentioned the horrible experience with the motherfucker named Benny. That was by far the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I cried for days after that. The trucker who we got a ride with from the rest stop took us back to Nampa, where we hopped a train to Pocatello. We stayed in a motel there for almost a week, just collecting ourselves. I didn't hitchhike any more on that trip, but I have hitchhiked a couple times since that time.
In a rail jungle in Atlanta, one of the guys in the jungle pulled out his dick in my face. He was tossed out of the camp.
There have been other incidents, but not as bad as those.
-"Annie"

That's all true. I have to mention one thing about the time in Atlanta. The guy was literally thrown out of the camp. Four people grabbed each of his arms/legs and tossed him. Don't fuck around like that creep did.
The Law
Running away is illegal. No question about it. Stay away from cops, for more reason than one. A cop tried to arrest me for being a "public nuisance", whatever that is, in Billings once. I was sleeping in a park during the daytime. I just ran. Thankfully the cop was fat AF, so it was easy to run around the corner and jump a fence into somebody's backyard. If you're black, cops are 90% of the time your worst enemy. Even more so if you're black and homeless. I'm a white guy (technically half Mexican, but I didn't learn that until recently), so I can't offer any advice on that, and I won't try to. Just stay safe, whatever that means. If you're a runaway and trainhopping, that's double illegal, so work even harder to keep a low profile. Don't do drugs, even marijuana (even if it's legal, cops don't like it), don't drink (do as I say not as I do), and if you see anything illegal going on get the fuck out. The fuzz will suspect you if you're near the scene of a crime, and even if they don't you'll be questioned, and then they'll most likely realize you're a runaway.
A note on alcohol: I am not a good example for this. I have drank my fair share of alcohol, and so has Annie. I'm praying my sister doesn't think to look on my phone/computer, because she has no idea. I almost got alcohol poisoning after drinking multiple bottles of tequila (I don't really remember) a couple weeks ago. Alcohol will put you out of your misery... until the next morning. Then all your problems will come right back even worse then before, and you'll be fucked. Also, if you get caught, you're going down. So don't drink, kids.
Phones
I don't bring a phone while on the road. To me it's just another thing that ties me to our fucked up society, and a distraction. Also you can be tracked with a cell phone even if you turn location data off. I know that my parents wouldn't try to track me, but I am very worried that the government might try to put me, my sister, and Annie in a foster home if they realize our situation.
Housing
This might seem like a weird section to put in a post about being on the road, but the reality is that you won't be able to run away forever. The first time I ran away, I came back in late August and lived with my parents and sister for a winter. That's probably not an option for most runaways. The next summer I was on the road again, and then I came back to live with them again. Around Christmas (when else) I had to go down to Fresno for a week for a job, and when I came back my parents had kicked out my sister and skipped town. I flipped out and drove to where she said they had moved to (I'm not going to reveal the location because it's a very small town), and got in a bad fight with my dad. He was on some sort of drug, so he wasn't very coherent, but I gathered that he and my mom had split up. He went to the tiny town, and she went to Vegas, where it seems like every fuck-up in the world ends up. I went back home and tried to figure out what to do.
My sister and I slept in the bed of my truck for about a month, and I ended up getting a distant family member to rent a tiny apartment for me and my sister, with me paying. I only did it that way because you can't rent a house as a minor. I lived there with my sister for the rest of the winter, but when summer came my sister told me that I had to go on the road. She saw how overworked and depressed I was, being cooped up in my little town, while balancing school and a job to support two people. Bless her soul for that. She went to live with some relatives for the summer while Annie and I went on the road. When school started but I was still gone, she went back home and lived with a friend until I came back. After that summer, I rented another house, this time slightly bigger, but still tiny by anybody's standards, and Annie moved in with us. It's a lot nicer now that there's two people with jobs in the household. I won't let my sister get a job for various reasons. She's too young to have all that responsibility.
It's hard living like this, but we make do. When my sister and I first rented the house, we could've moved somewhere else and rented for several times less, but I wanted to stay in my hometown. For all it's faults, it's where I was raised, and it's where my few friends are. I could be living like a king in Bakersfield, but here I am, doing my math homework with pencils scavenged out of the gutter. I have second thoughts about staying almost every day, but it was the right choice for my family. Now, I'm facing eviction, and that whole plan has been turned on it's head.
Suggestions on housing. Get something as cheap as possible, even if it's in a bad neighborhood. The first apartment I rented was in a pretty average neighborhood. When we had to upsize slightly to accommodate Annie, we moved to a dumpy little road in the country. The people here are pretty nice, though. It has the major disadvantage of being far from town, and without a reliable car, I have to get up at 3:00 every morning to bike to town and make my 5:00 AM shift at my job, which ends at 8. I'm sometimes late to online school, but what can you do? I end up working about 8-10 hours a day on weekdays, about 14-16 on Saturday, and then Sunday is my day off, only 6-8 hours.
I also will do landscaping jobs whenever we're hurting for money, but that's less reliable and hard to fit into my schedule.
Annie works (at a different place than me) from 8:00 PM to 4:00 AM every weekday. We're both insanely sleep-deprived and overworked 24/7/365, but still pretty much broke. Remember, this is "Realities", not "Dreams". If you want to support yourself, you'll have to work at least 60 hours a week, most likely more. I get paid minimum wage at both my jobs (gas station and farm), Annie slightly above. If you're alone, you should try and find an organization that will take you in. I've got a family member on the board of directors of a boy's home, and although they struggle a lot, it sounds better for the boys than being on the streets.
I guess we're kind of like parents to my sister, although we aren't romantically involved. It sure is a taxing job to be a parent to a rebellious teenage girl. I could write a whole article on unconventional parenting situations, but I'll save it for another time.
School
Don't kid yourself. You will not be able to go to school while running away. It doesn't matter what the law says, you will be reported and sent home if you try to enroll in school. I don't know about online school, however. I'm not anything of a tech wizard, so I have no idea if they'd be able to track you if you keep logging on. I try to be on the road only when school is out, but it doesn't always work out that way. In 2019, I didn't get back home until early October. That kind of sucked, because I missed over a month of school.
Here at home, I get by with school, even though I work 74+ hours a week and get maybe 5 or 6 hours of sleep a night. I never skip classes, and usually pull low B's and sometimes high C's. It's not going to get me into Harvard, but then again I won't be able to afford even community college. One of my two jobs (the non-farm one) is at a gas station, and I can tell you that working the graveyard shift at a gas station in a small town is the MOST. FUCKING. BORING. Job ever. It does give me a lot of time to do homework, browse Reddit, and listen to punk music. So if you ever walk into a gas station near Sacramento and hear The Offspring quickly being shut off, say hi to me.
I don't know if anybody at school beyond my one or two closest friends knows my situation. It's not exactly a secret, but I don't go shouting around the halls about it either. I don't care much for the whole popularity thing, but if I did I'm sure living in a half-abandoned house with no parents and working at a gas station would not win me any favors. My sister is more worried about that shit, I can't fathom why. But she does it without being a jerk like many popular kids, so I can't judge.
Crossing Borders
This may seem kind of off-topic, but for one reason or another, it's something that I've found comes into play quite a bit when you're on the road.
State borders are easy. 90% of the time you'll just drive right over them. On busy roads in some states (like my state of California) they have agricultural inspection stations, where they prohibit you from bringing most vegetables, nuts, and fruit into the state to avoid these. There's no real danger to get found out with these, as long as you do what they said and don't panic. It's literally just telling them, "No sir, I do not have any produce with me."
National borders are trickier. I've got no experience legally crossing national borders, but I know that you need your passport in 99% of places (I think San Diego and Tijuana might have some arrangement). I have, however, snuck over both the Canadian and Mexican border briefly. I'm not going to tell you how to do it, because it's highly illegal, but I will say this: don't do it. This is another thing where you should do as I say, not as I do, because if you are caught on the other side of the border without a passport, you will be sent to jail and then tried.
My mom was an undocumented immigrant. She ran away from Mexicali at 16, and ended up in Anchorage, a prostitute and a heroin addict. I only learned this a couple days ago, and I haven't seen her in years, but if I ever do see her again, I would like to ask her about her experience. I know that it was successful, though.
Another reason not to cross the Mexican border: Mexico is fucking dangerous. In Agua Prieta, I heard way more gunshots in the two nights I was there than the two nights I spent right outside of Skid Row in LA. In Piedras Negras, I swam across the Rio Grande just to say I'd done it, and although I was only over there for about 6 hours, I saw the most poverty that I've ever seen. My last border experience was perhaps the worst. A couple days after Piedras Negras, I wanted to try it out again, so I swam from Laredo to Nuevo Laredo. It was hard avoiding the border patrol, who were hidden all over, but I managed to get across OK. I wandered around Nuevo for a while, and then realized it was getting dark, and I didn't want to be there during the night. I walked the mile or so back to the river, but it was swarming with US and Mexican government people. My best guess is that there was a crime or something, or maybe somebody drowned.
Either way, I couldn't get back that way, so I figured I'd have to walk either north or south out of town. I didn't want to be walking around at night, though, so I chose to sleep in a nice-looking park next to a hospital. At around 2:00 AM, I was woken up by screaming, and then a couple minutes later sirens. I was sleeping without a sleeping bag or anything since the low was above 80 degrees that night, so I was able to get the fuck out in about 30 seconds. I ran/walked the 2 or so miles to a golf course next to the river, which I snuck across and then swam across the river. It was fucking crazy. I never found out what happened at the park, or what caused the patrollers to be all over the area. It would've been mid-July 2018, I think. Anybody know anything? All three of those times were in 2018, and I haven't crossed into Mexico since, and I don't plan to again.
Mental Health
Being on the streets is lonely. It helps if you're with a partner, but if you're alone, you can go weeks without any meaningful contact with others. I like that, but I know it can be hard for people. I saw somebody make a very good point in a thread here recently. When you're hitchhiking, you're kind of acting as that person's anonymous therapist. They will never see you again, and neither of you have any idea who the other is, so they're free to pour their heart out to you. It can be hard hearing about that. I've ridden with people who were falsely charged with murder, have attempted suicide, and even a man with terminal cancer.
For me though, being on the streets helps my mental health more than it hurts it. I've been very depressed at points in my life, and several times the only thing standing in between me and suicide was the thought that my sister would have nobody to support her. Being sedentary sucks, and I try not to let it get to me, but it does. I've been at home for almost 500 days due to COVID, with only two or three opportunities to get out. Late winter and spring were the hardest, but surprisingly the pandemic made it better. I didn't have to be an outcast at school every day, and I had more time to work, meaning we were in a better financial situation. I can't express how thankful I am that I wasn't laid off of either of my jobs, as so many people were. We'd be in a bad fucking situation if that happened.
Another thing that can bring you down mentally is seeing the underbelly of our society. You'll be walking through the metaphorical and literal back alley of wherever you are. You'll see all the things that make the world bad: junkies, gangs, extreme poverty, trafficking, you name it and it will be encountered. The worst I've experienced this was in Stockton, one of the most dangerous and poor cities in the US. Every alley holds a junkie shooting up on their poison of choice, gang violence has decimated the south part of the city, and parts of South Stockton look worse than Detroit. Even if this doesn't affect you physically, it really takes a toll on you mentally.
Overview
Running away is dangerous, hard, and illegal. You should only do it if it provides a better situation than the one you are in. Carry protection, probably a knife, but don't call people's bluff. Don't get involved in prostitution, no matter how desperate you are. Trust your instincts about people. If they give you a bad feeling, get away from them. If you are a girl, you most likely will be sexually harassed, and possibly raped. Stay away from cops, don't do anything illegal, and especially don't cross borders. You won't be able to go to school on the road. Eventually you'll have to settle down somewhere, so have a plan for that. Will you be 18 by then? If so, that makes it a lot easier.
I've been dumb. I've made bad decisions. Many of them. That's probably led to me having a worse-than-average experience. But I hope that y'all can learn from my mistakes and do it better.
I know that there are going to be people who go through my whole account just to shut me down, so I'm just going to say that you will find discrepancies. I don't mention my situation unless it's called for. People feel sorry for me, and I hate it. If a person is going to take the time to search my post history, they deserve to know my story.
I'm going to finish with a quote from my second grade teacher and pretty much everyone since: "Life isn't fair."

[A Staff of Crystal and Bone][CoreVerse] Reboot Chapter 7

Synopsis When Artum turned eighteen, like all humans in the world, he gained the ability to summon an object to his side by holding out his hand. He hoped for a sword or shield, to become a warrior. He certainly didn't want a shovel or a rolling pin. When he held out his hand, however, he summoned a staff. Not a mages staff, either - the staff that was once wielded by the dark lord. Now, on the run, Artum must hide from the Chosen Ones that once defeated the Dark Lord and learn to wield the staff's awesome power before they catch and execute him.
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Artum turned to run and nearly fell. The tremors in his arms and legs hadn’t left him yet, and the movement was almost more than he could take. Tiebalt let out a curse and handed his shovel to Garissa before wrapping an arm around Artum. Before Artum could even protest, Tiebalt heaved and tossed Artum over his shoulders, holding him by a leg and an arm. “What?” Artum started to ask.
“Don’t argue, just hold still,” Tiebalt growled, and then he was running, Garissa hot on his heels, the shovel in one hand and her stick in the other. Artum clutched the staff with both hands, trying to hold it still, so it wouldn’t slap against Tiebalt as they ran. It was still dark, and although Tiebalt tried, Artum’s face was slapped with sticks and twigs and leaves every few minutes. He spluttered to spit out some of the leaves, but didn’t protest the indignity.
Behind them, something howled, a high and keening sound unlikely any wolf Artum had heard before. Beastbinder had, after the fall of the Dark One, travelled the world to find the most exotic creatures for his forces. Whatever was howling wasn’t anything Artum was likely to have encountered before.
His head started to clear with time and from the repeated slaps to the face. Think, Artum commanded himself, forcing his stubborn brain to work.
The biggest weakness would have to be Beastbinder himself. The man would be of incredibly advanced age, and the Destined staves didn’t give them enhanced lifespan that Artum had heard of. If they could draw him out, he’d be forced to pull his animals around to defend himself. That would give them an opening to escape. Of course, there’s no way you’ll be able to force him out, Artum thought, a train of thought that was momentarily derailed by a glancing blow on his temple from a branch thicker than the ones he’d encountered so far. His vision went from dark to being filled with stars, and his grip on the staff loosened. Artum let it fall and called it back to his fingers once his head cleared. “Tiebalt, we have to get out of the Everwoods!” he said.
“Oh really?” Tiebalt asked, panting the words. Artum could feel the strain coming off him, and felt a stab of guilt for needing to be carried. “I was somewhat expecting to just run blindly until I tripped and broke my neck with your spine.”
“Better to have said and not needed…” Artum muttered, though he acknowledged the rebuke for what it was - Tiebalt tended to get vitriolic when he was frightened.
Moments later, it became apparent Artum need not have spoken. They burst from the dense underbrush of the Everwoods and back onto the grasslands that surrounded it. It was a harsh divide - unlike most forests, the Everwoods had a clear dividing line between it and the grasslands. “Put me down,” Artum said. “I can move on my own.”
“Can’t put you down without stopping,” Tiebalt said, the words coming out in short gasps.
“Can’t keep carrying me if you fall to exhaustion,” Artum retorted.
Tiebalt growled, but started to slow. He set Artum down as quickly as he could without just slamming him to the dirt. “We have to move,” he said.
“But no more sprinting,” Garissa said, her own words coming out in sharp gasps. She looked every bit as worn as Tiebalt, and was quick to hand him back the heavy shovel. Sweat beaded her forehead, and she took the momentary rest to wipe it off her brow “Just run at an even pace. Something we can maintain.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Artum said.
“Argue while we move,” Tiebalt said, and started to take off down the grasslands, forcing the other two to follow.
As she ran, Garissa shook her head. “I’m studying natural science, remember? Humans can run far longer than any other animal, except horses and wolves, but if we push too hard we’ll pass out. If we keep an even pace, we can maintain it longer.”
“It’ll make it easier for them to catch us!” Artum said, his eyes wide.
“Can’t escape them if we fall to exhaustion,” Garissa said.
Tiebalt was too out of breath to laugh, but he did give Artum a smug smile. “Not so funny when the words are sent your way?”
Artum growled but kept the even pace Garissa was setting. Garissa glanced over. “Artum, you and Tiebalt could use your stamina. You’ll go so much-”
“Absolutely not,” Artum said, although he was ashamed to admit as mall part of himself was tempted. It was hard not to dash off, but the knowledge he’d be leaving Tiebalt and Garissa behind kept him from moving ahead. His thoughts were clear now, and his limbs moved easily. “Anything in your natural sciences say humans use mana to think?” he asked Garissa.
“Don’t be absurd,” Garissa responded. “Why?”
“Couldn’t think after the lightning bolt.” Artum risked a glance at his hand. His mana bar was near empty. Like he’d thought, mana didn’t impact thought. But why couldn’t he think? And why was the red bar more full now than it had been before?
Garissa frowned in thought. In the silence, all Artum could hear was the rustle of the grass as they dashed through it. It was a good thing Garissa had set a slower pace - the tall grass wouldn’t allow them to have move much faster even if they wanted to. “Lightning lives in storms and can be harnessed out of acid,” she said after some thought. “Not thoughts. But I suppose it makes sense that there would be some connection.”
“I need to figure out how to manage it,” Artum said. He risked a glance back to the Everwoods. “If I zap whatever he’s sending after us and turn into an idiot again, even briefly, it could doom us all.”
“I have some thoughts about that,” Garissa said. “But none that can be used to fix things quickly. We have to work with what we know we can do safely.”
Tiebalt spoke up before Artum could express his frustration. None of them were able to speak smoothly at this point, all of them were starting to feel the effort of running, but the conversation had to happen. They couldn’t run forever. “So think, Artum. We have a shovel, a stick, and your crystal. What do we do when Beastbinder catches up to us?”
As if Tiebalt’s words had reached the Dark Hall and summoned them, three forms burst from the foliage of the Everwoods. One was the Haufen, its fur still somewhat blackened and charred from Artum’s lightning. Next to it were two creatures Artum had never seen before. They were strange, somewhat resembling wolves, but with sloped backs and blunt snouts. One of them sighted the group and began to creep forward, its tongue rolling out of its mouth in a pant. The other creature started to laugh. It was a disturbing sound, like something from a madman’s lips, but coming from an animal’s jaw. Then they were running, cutting through the paths that Artum and his friends had started to cut through the grass with their passage.
“Garissa!” Artum said. “Are you sure the light comes from plants?”
“No,” She admitted. “Just that it makes sense.”
Artum prayed she was right and held the staff behind him as he ran. “Both of you, pull ahead of me! I have a plan, but I think it’s safer if you’re further away.”
“Artum, if this is you doing some self-sacrificial thing…” Garissa started to say, but Artum shook his head.
“I’ll be right behind you, I swear. Just keep running!”
Garissa nodded and pulled ahead. Tiebalt gave Artum a hard look. “I’m not leaving you behind,” he said.
“Trust me!” Artum said. “Please!”
Tiebalt glared at Artum, and almost stumbled from having to look back. Artum put a hand on his back to steady him. “I know you,” Tiebalt said.
“I promise,” Artum said. “I promised you years ago - I won’t go swimming alone again.”
Tiebalt’s gaze hardened. “You better not,” he growled, but the reminder of the boyhood promise seemed enough to get him to pull ahead.
Artum breathed a sigh of relief. Those strange laughing wolves were gaining, and the Haufen was close behind. He held out the staff behind him and focused on the need for light he’d felt when trying to see Garissa’s face.
The staff flared to life, shining as brightly as a campfire. Artum honed his thoughts further on that need, stoking the desire the same way he would a flame. The staff began to grow brighter, from campfire to lightning bolt.
And behind him, the grass started to turn brown and wither. It spread out in an arc as he ran, forming a path of dead grass that fanned out behind him. He could see it in the harshly bright light of the crystal, and it made him sick to watch the way it desiccated, going from healthy and green to something that looked like it belonged on the edge of the Wastes. The red bar continued to fill with every step, confirming he was somehow draining it. He just didn’t know how or why.
Beastbinders fiend-wolves stopped at the edge of the brown area and then stepped into it hesitantly. They didn’t start to advance again until the Haufen was with them, charging into the dead, dry grass.
Artum whirled to face the beasts when they were fully in the center of it, too far in to move quickly from the dead zone he’d created, and pulled out the flint and steel he carried in his pocket. “One more step and I ignite it!” he said, his voice as loud and clear as he could manage.
All four of the animals skidded to a halt and stared at him. Artum took deep, heavy breaths as Garissa and Tiebalt slowed.
Then, from the edge of the Everwoods, he heard a slow, rhythmic sound of deliberate clapping. Beastbinder stepped from the forest, his hands slapping together. He was as old as Artum had expected, his hair silver and his face wrinkled and weathered from years of sun, but his frame was still muscular and he did not move with the slowness of his edge. “You surprise me, Dark Heir,” Beastbinder said. “I’d not see my friends burned this night. Perhaps we can parlay?”
Artum nodded, but kept the flint and steel at the ready.
One of the strange wolves chuckled darkly, and Beastbinder strode into the area of withered grass with a predatory grace, moving like a wolf strolling through its domain and with as little fear. The motion put a chill in Artum’s bones - the dried grass would go up with a flash if he put the tinder to it, if Garissa was half-right about what he was doing to it. And yet, Beastbinder had walked into it like it was as flammable as sand. Is he really that unafraid? “No further,” Artum said when Beastbinder was within easy speaking distance.
Beastbinder stopped and nodded. “Might I send my friends away? They grow restless easily.”
“And send them to safety so they can lope around and strike me from behind?” Artum did his best to give an arrogant scoff. It came out more like a cough than anything else. As hard as he tried to act otherwise, there was something intimidating about the man, and it wasn’t just the emerald crystal in his hand. It didn’t help that, up close, Artum could see Beastbinders eyes. They looked every bit as old as Beastbinder himself should look, and not the milky age that Artum associated with some of the village elders. These were the eyes who had stared into the Dark Halls time and time again and always looked away.
“You don’t trust me. I understand. Yet we have a parlay. I will not betray that.”
“I believe you,” Artum said. “But if the parlay ends poorly, I’ll have no protection.”
Beastbinder chuckled. It was a warm sound, a friendly sound. A sound utterly at odds with his motion and his eyes. “You haven’t even had the Sable Crystal for a full day, and already you grow paranoid. Surely a bit of trust would not be amiss?”
“Trust?” Artum couldn’t help how rudely incredulous he sounded, and Garissa made a strangled sound behind him. She and Tiebalt had returned, as Artum had known they would. Should have kept running, he thought, but without a hint of rancor. Their return was a comfort he desperately needed.
“Artum, he’s Destined,” Garissa said quietly. “Some respect might be in order?”
Beastbinder didn’t chuckle this time. He threw back his head and laugh, a motion that shook his belly. “Your friend is the Dark Heir,” he said when he calmed his laughter. “I think milk would curdle for a thousand miles if he showed me respect. And I take it that trust is out of the question?”
Artum shook his head. “This morning, people who lived in my village, people I would have trusted with my life, called me a monster. People sent by the Destined to keep us safe from Bigands and Caprings tried to kill me and my friends. You can’t blame my paranoia on the Sable Crystal.” Artum wished Garissa hadn’t reminded him about Beastbinder’s station. The man was intimidating enough without it being brought to Artum’s attention that he represented the power of the Destined on this world.
The sun chose that moment to creep over the horizon, washing the world in the orange light of dawn like a flame. In its light, he could truly see Beastbinder for what he was. An old man wrapped around the frame of a young one. He looked less intimidating now that he was lit by more than the harsh light of the Sable Crystal.
“Very well.” Beastbinder motioned, and the Haufen sat on its haunches, while the two laughing wolves curled themselves to rest. The final creature, a crow, landed on Beastbinder’s shoulder. “I suppose, when you put it that way, it sounds so reasonable.”
“How else would it sound?” Artum asked.
“Like a madman’s ramblings,” Beastbinder said. He motioned for Artum to sit on the grass, and did the same, crossing his legs on top of what Artum could set alight with a moment’s notice. Shocked, Artum did the same, and Garissa and Tiebalt joined him. “Thank you. These old bones don’t like standing for too long.”
“You don’t move like you’re old,” Artum said.
Beastbinder nodded. “A benefit of holding a Staff. We age on the outside, and age will eventually claim us, but our muscles and tendons remain young. The bones don’t, though. Never did figure out why that was. Keep that in mind if you reach my age. You’ll be able to leap like a young man, but you’ll land like a grandfather.”
Artum winced at the thought. “You seem to imply you think I might live that long.”
“Perhaps even longer,” Beastbinder said. “We don’t know exactly how your predecessor reached the age he did. Was it a property of his Staff? Something he found in Shobbot? Some dark ritual or deal with the Lords of the Dark Hall?” Beastbinder shrugged. “Maybe you’ll find out, and you too will be immortal.”
“Not that I’m complaining, but it’s starting to sound suspiciously like you’re not going to kill me,” Artum said.
“Why would I do that?” Beastbinder asked, and he seemed honestly perplexed.
“You sent a Haufen after me!” Artum didn’t mean to shout the words, but this conversation was so perplexing he was completely thrown off by Beastbinder’s confusion.
“I do apologize for that,” Beastbinder said. “I sent Myshnah to look for you. Ardex and Calvex are less easy in the Everwoods - far better suited to the plains - and Grahn flys poorly between trees in the dark. When she found you, I fear she panicked at the light of your staff. My control slipped for a moment.” He gave Artum a dark look. “For that, I will forgive you for the lightning. This time.”
Myshnah yawned, showing the massive tusks that would have spilled Artum’s guts across the Everwoods if he’d been less cautious. Ardex and Calvex laughed at his shiver. “I appreciate the leniency,” he said.
“What are they?” The words burst from Garissa’s lips, and Artum wondered how hard she’d been holding them back. “Um. Sorry. I’ve just never seen anything like them. Ardex and Calvex, I mean.”
Beastbinder smiled. “They’re from the plains of a land across the Outer Sea. They’re called hyenas. They’re more closely related to cats than wolves, in spite of their appearance.”
“I was wondering about that,” Garissa said brightly. Artum got the distinct impression that if she had a pen and paper, she’d take notes. “They don’t lay like hounds or wolves. It’s not the right curl and head placement. They’re beautiful.”
“Did you hear that, Ardex? The pretty girl thinks you’re beautiful,” Beastbinder said.
Ardex’s head poked up, and he - or she - gave Garissa a grin with tongue lolling from between a jaw that looked like it could crack bone in half.
Gently, Artum cleared his throat. “Garissa? Mind if I ask the giant man if he’s going to kill me or not?”
Garissa flushed. “Of course,” she said airily, “but if he doesn’t kill you, I intend on picking his brain about the hyenas.”
Tiebalt, who had been silent up until now, just sighed.
“I don’t intend on killing you,” Beastbinder said.
“You’ll understand if I find that hard to believe,” Artum responded, looking at Beastbinder with narrowed eyes. “Even if what happened with Myshnah was an accident, you still set the hyenas after us. You spied on us through a crow’s eyes. You didn’t stop the chase until I had a weapon I could use against you. And you want me to believe that now it was all...what? Some huge misunderstanding?”
“No,” Beastbinder said. “And yes. You hurt Myshnah. I forgot myself, and set Ardex and Calvex after you with murder in their hearts. I won’t lie and claim otherwise. But when I came to find you, I did not come intending to kill you. I came to see if I would need to kill you.”
“And you’ve decided not to?”
“No,” Beastbinder said. “But I have seen no reason to, not right now. You drove off Myshnah with lightning, yes. Not just any - it was the very strikes the Dark One could summon. Nothing natural about it, not like what Stormbreaker can do. Could do.” He looked very sad for a moment, but it passed before Artum could even start to wonder how many friends this man had lost. “But since then...you used the Sable Crystal to sap the life from plants, but you did not throw your tinder to the grass when I entered. You stopped when I asked you to spare my friends. You have been paranoid, yes, but you have not seemed evil. Even when I provoked you.”
“So...I’m safe,” Artum felt relief begin to creep in. “This was a test, and I passed? I’ll get to keep the Crystal and go back to Oldsbrook and…”
The words died on his lips as he saw Beastbinder’s face, and the man shook his head, his mane of white hair cascading behind him. “I have decided that there is nothing evil in you yet. The other Destined will not agree. They will hunt you, Dark Heir. They will hunt you to the ends of the world, and will rest only when that Staff and the Core it contains is put to the ground where it can harm no one ever again.”
It wasn’t a threat. Beastbinder spoke with a simple finality that chilled Artum to his bone.
---
Is that a core? Looks like it! The connection to the rest of the coreverse becomes stronger. If you want to read some of the other Coreverse stories, Dragonflame - a book about a princess who was raised by a dragon and the first book of the Dragon's Scion - was published this month, and Motors of Keldora - the 3rd book in the Factory of the Gods, a series that dares break the cardinal rule and puts an engineer into a fantasy world so he can build a fantasy - is on pre-order right now! Also, all of my stories are in the Coreverse aside from Small Worlds, so check my published books and other serials below! Also also, if you want to read the books that are going straight to Amazon - they're also being updated on my patron! Half of Motors of Keldora is over there, as is a chunk of a brand new book - Dinosaur Dungeon.
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Inheritors of Eschaton, Part 64 - Inheritance (2 of 3)

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Sigu staggered back, barely keeping hold of his pike as the dwindling line of guards buckled and reformed several paces to the rear. They had been fighting the abominations street-to-street, rather literally - only the hard surfaces of the major roads provided any protection from belowground ambushes. Even cobbles were suspect footing. They had been forced back along this major thoroughfare until their backs were against the gate to the inner city, and Sigu doubted they could stand for much longer.
The outer districts were lost, and with them all but the vanishingly-small number of residents that had managed to flee through to the inner city. His lieutenants reported the same thing all along the perimeter, which told him that the mob of corpses had them pinned against the shore with no open avenues of escape.
That was fine. This was his city, after all, and he would rather die defending it than attempting to escape it. Sigu shook his head and refocused, stepping up to take his place alongside his men. He felt the smooth motion of his armor as it subtly aided his movements, lending strength and dexterity in equal measure. His pike whipped through three bodies, quick as blinking, but the fourth seized hold of it and pulled him forward with surprising strength.
His armor could only compensate for so much. The sudden pull sent him tumbling forward into the ranks of the enemy, who set upon him with unbridled ferocity. Hands scrabbled at his faceplate, fingernails and rough shards of metal grated against him from all sides. His left hand blossomed with pain as his gauntlet was torn free and teeth tore into his flesh, fingers hooking under the next piece to peel him apart bit by bit-
And then a swirl of bright flame dispelled the night overhead, clearing the rotten horde from him with a cacophony of shattered bone. Sigu rolled back toward the line, dignity and weapon forgotten as he flopped frantically sideways in his armor.
Panting, bleeding from a hundred cuts, he looked up to see Mark standing in front of his pikemen with one foot resting on a corpse and a flaming hammer held over one shoulder. Behind him, Jesse swept his sword through a knot of decaying bodies while Jackie sent another blasting back into its fellows.
“And here I thought all hope was lost,” Sigu gasped, shakily heaving himself to his feet. “My expectations were clearly still too high.”
Mark winked at him. “Nice to see you too,” he said. “Got a charge crystal handy?”
Sigu blinked at the request, reaching to his belt almost automatically. He stopped himself just before handing it over. “Why are you back in the City?” he asked, looking up at Mark suspiciously. “You were away. You’d come back now, at the end?”
“We’ve got a saying where I’m from about endings and, uh, fat ladies,” Mark said, leaning forward to snatch the crystal out of his hand. He frowned. “Just realized it’s probably not going to translate too well. Point is, it’s not over until it’s over, and it’s not over until I say it’s over. Understand?”
“What?” Sigu muttered, watching as Mark tossed the shining crystal towards Jesse. He snatched it out of the air, then dropped it to the ground. In one smooth motion he brought his sword up - and down, the blade cleaving into the crystal with a flash and a sharp report.
The blade lit up with a ghostly glow that trailed behind it in the air. Jesse swept it sideways in a tight arc, and the glow flashed outward through the mob around them. There was a moment of stillness before the bodies began to fall to the dirt, dropping into pieces carved neatly across the midsection.
The stillness did not stop with his strike, however, as those beyond the perimeter of his attack turned to face their position - and those beyond them, farther than Sigu could see until even the swirling, lightning-laced clouds overhead seemed to glare balefully down on them. The three interlopers stood defiantly in the newly cleared road, unflinching even as the storm howled with renewed ferocity.
“One wonders why I even bother making plans,” sighed a voice to Sigu’s right. He took a hasty step to the side, startled, and saw a slight man clad in black, unarmored save for a cloak that seemed to meld with the night around them. Two similarly-dressed men stood behind him, holding what were unmistakably scripted weapons.
Sigu licked his lips, his mind racing to keep up. All around him the horde was closing in, seeming almost cautious in their advance but no less oppressive for it, the slowness of their movements lending a creeping dread to Sigu’s thoughts.
“Who are you?” he asked, falling back on the familiar. “You’re not Sjocelym.”
“For which I am thankful every moment of my day,” the man said. “But it appears I’m a concerned party nevertheless, despite my efforts.” He reached within his cloak, withdrawing a smaller version of the weapon that his companions held, white and angular with a menacing blue glow along the sides. He took a step forward, then paused to look at Sigu.
“You and your men may want to take a step back,” he said.
Sigu fought against the impulse to ask more questions, the senses trained by long years of soldiery telling him to avoid irritating the men wielding scriptwork. They advanced a few steps further forward before the leading edge of the mob broke from their creeping advance and charged, sending a wave of leathery-brown flesh towards them.
Jackie flung her hand outward, her palm already full of writhing light that detonated among the horde in a concussive fireball. The survivors darted nimbly around the corpses of the fallen to launch themselves at Jesse, but were intercepted by blade and hammer well short of their target. The two men were blurs of red and pale blue as they fought, punctuated by the blurred-smoke movements of the cloaked trio as they intercepted stragglers with short bursts of blue-white light from their weapons.
Sigu found himself simply watching, the line of battle having moved well away from his surviving men. The storm swirled overhead like a nebulous mirror of the battle, mock-dust armies surging in time with the waves of twisted, dry corpses heaving themselves forward through the street.
Through sheer force of numbers the six combatants were beginning to feel the pressure, and elements of the enemy were slipping around to menace them from behind. Sigu slammed his pike against the flagstone. “Advance,” he rumbled, waving his arm. “Protect the rear!”
His men were overtired but formed up in good order, loose lines of pike moving forward to sweep the plaza clear of enemies. They settled into a wedge that trailed behind the blur of explosions and debris marking the battle’s focal point, although Sigu could still catch glimpses between dispatched enemies.
Lightning shattered downward in clusters, tearing gouges in the stone and spraying sharp fragments into friend and foe alike. In some places the road surface was entirely destroyed, leaving exposed dirt that was shortly boiling with eager corpses clawing their way upward. The soil seemed to ripple around them as they belched outward, forming a new front that smashed into Sigu’s men.
Mark and one of the cloaked strangers swept down the line like a bludgeon, scattering maimed and scorched bodies in their wake. His hammer was fully alight, shining yellow-hot in the night and shattering the bodies of the dead with lethal force. Mark came to a stop, still smiling like a lunatic despite the sweat beading his face.
“You got any reinforcements, or is this it?” he asked. “I’m not saying we’re in trouble or anything, but we’re definitely outnumbered.”
Sigu found he was not yet too exhausted to feel irritation, but refrained from showing it on his face. “My brother,” he said. “Sjogydhu went to rally forces from the Archives, if he can. He’s overdue, though. If the enemy have broken through elsewhere he may have diverted there instead.”
“Classic Sjogydhu,” Mark said. “Well, I-”
He broke off as Sigu and half his pikemen stirred, looking off towards the mountains. Jesse and Jackie flinched as if struck, their heads whipping around to stare. The enemy, too, stilled and slowed, even the thunder and wind falling quiet as a pulse of something fundamental rippled through the air, something that smelled of rain and soil.
Then it passed, and the storm exploded around them. Lightning rained down in jittering, writhing pillars that tore through buildings and sent masonry spilling down over the street. Sigu staggered into Mark as the wind slammed through their formation like a living thing, seething, clawing its way over their armor in incoherent rage.
Mark spat out a torrent of invective, staggering against the onslaught - and then lashing out with the hammer as a fresh wave of the dead sprang at them in a frenzy.
“Jesse!” Mark shouted, sweeping an arc of fire across the front. “I think she noticed something’s up!”
The swirl of battle hid Jesse from Sigu’s view, but somehow his voice cut through the fracas as if he were standing right beside them. “We need to press her hard,” he said, his voice calm but bone-tired. “We’ll never catch her if she disengages.”
Mark scowled, dancing back as a rotten hand grabbed for his leg and repaying its owner with a shattered skull. “She seems pretty engaged!” he shouted back. Another corpse leapt forward, but Sigu intercepted it on the point of his pike and drove it down, his men finishing the job with a flurry of precise blows.
Jesse began to speak once more, but his voice cut off as more lightning detonated in their midst, scattering Sigu’s men to the ground and knocking Mark off-balance. The tide of dry flesh surged forward over them, swarming upward from the fresh holes in the ground to claw and bite with mindless rage.
A small cluster of pikemen righted themselves and began to reestablish the line, but the pressure was too great, the enemy too numerous. The clear area contracted as men were dragged screaming into the dark. Jesse burst forward from the line with Mark in tow, dragging him free from the mob while Jackie covered their retreat with bright bursts of flame that caught in the dead like tinder.
There was a shift overhead, movement in the storm. Sigu braced himself for another bout of lightning, but none came - instead, the swirling center seemed to be drifting away from their position.
The sight lifted Sigu’s spirits, but when Jesse looked upwards his face darkened. “She’s breaking away!” he shouted.
Jackie cursed and danced backwards, her fingers alight with flame - although now that she was closer Sigu could see the burned skin on her hand, the scorchmarks on her clothing. “We don’t have the numbers to hold her here,” she shouted back. “She’s keeping us tied up but the bulk of them are moving out of the city.”
“Not much we can do about that,” Mark said, staggering to his feet. “Jackie’s right, we can’t pin her here. We can lock down a point, but not the front - and she’s her own damn front.”
Jesse could see the river of bodies slowly moving away in the distance, separated from them by the smaller but still insurmountable tide that hemmed them into the plaza with Sigu’s men. The smaller army seemed to be in no hurry to attack them, unlike the frenzied push earlier that had condensed their lines. “We have to keep trying,” he said. “Eryha and Gusje need every minute we can buy for them, and right now she thinks she has us handled.”
Jackie shot him a look. “She might be right,” she said, wincing as she fanned her blistering fingers. “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure how much longer I can do this.”
Jesse’s reply was cut short by a thundering blow that struck the gate behind them, coming from inside the walls. The pikemen nearest the gate spun to face it, blades leveled at the doors.
---
“Shit, she flanked us,” Mark growled. “She must have breached the wall farther down.”
More pikemen formed a secondary line facing the door, bracing for the waves of dead about to pour through it. Sigu stayed with the main line still fending off their skirmishing rear guard, casting a wry look upward at Jesse.
“If you’ve got a plan to move us out of here, I’d like to hear it,” he grunted. “If we have to fight on two fronts-”
The pikemen yelled and scrambled aside as a bar of shining light lanced through the door, casting sharp-edged shadows into the night and momentarily dazzling all who looked. Even the dead cringed back for a moment, staring with milk-white eyes as the door smoldered, burnt - and fell outward to the ground.
Sjogydhu strode through, cycling a new charge crystal into Sunshine. A column of men followed him, a mix of scriptsmith guards and civilians with a hodgepodge of weaponry. They poured into the plaza past the confused pikemen and toward the front lines. Sigu watched, bemused, as his brother jogged up to join them.
“I didn’t think you were coming,” he said.
Sjogydhu snorted. “It was a near thing,” he said. “I had a disagreement with some of the other guards that ended poorly for them.” He glanced over at Mark and Jesse, his eyes widening when he saw Jackie and Cosvamo as well. “I thought you were leaving,” he said, an unasked question heavy in his voice.
“He’s dead,” Jackie replied. Sjogydhu’s face went flat, then he nodded once, heavily.
“I owe you a debt for this, Zhaqi Ra,” he said formally.
She snorted and pointed in the direction of the departing horde. “See over there? If you want to pay us back, we need to fight our way up that street.”
“Into the middle of them?” Sjogydhu asked, incredulous.
“Yes,” Jesse said, walking over briskly. “We can end this, right now. We just need to get into the middle of the enemy and keep them tied down here, keep them occupied.” He paused and looked out over the crowd that had followed Sjogydhu, noting that the flow of men had started to taper off through the ruined doorway. They were milling around, unorganized despite the best efforts of the few guardsmen among them to form ranks.
“These don’t look like soldiers,” Jesse observed.
Sjogydhu snorted. “They’re not. They’re people who fled to the Archives when the attack started. We emptied our armories, and when that ran out I opened the Vault as well.”
Jesse stared at him for a moment, then looked once more at the milling crowd of Sjocelym civilians. Among their patchwork armaments there were definite oddities - blades that glowed, twisted, or that blurred when his eyes lingered on them.
“You said those were in the Vault for a reason,” Mark pointed out. “That they were too dangerous to use.”
“That was what Vumo - said,” he muttered, catching himself before the habitual honorific. “I find that I’m questioning more of his policies as of late.”
Mark’s face split into a big grin. “Look at you,” he said, “questioning authority. Guys, I’m beginning to think we were a bad influence.”
Jesse broke in before Sjogydhu could retort, drawing their attention back to the far street. “She’s moving farther away while we talk,” he said. “We need to find a way across that plaza, or try to find a way around.”
Sjogydhu’s eyes narrowed. “You’re sure this is necessary?” he said. “I was going to hold at the chokepoints.”
“We need to stop her,” Jackie said, dropping down to look Sjogydhu in the eye. “We’ve got a way to restore a vinesavai to the Sanctum, undo what Vumo did.”
“You’re serious,” Sjogydhu said, his eyes widening as he looked to Cosvamo for confirmation.
The Setelym made a noncommittal gesture. “There’s definitely something happening at the Sanctum,” he said, looking somewhat irritably up at the others. “I can’t confirm what they’re saying, mostly because nobody has bothered to tell me what happened after Vumo was stabbed, and my ship is still a while out.”
“I really don’t think you want to know the details,” Jackie said. “Suffice to say that we found a way to restore a vinesavai’s protection to Tinem Sjocel. All we need to do is buy time.”
Sjogydhu frowned, then shook his head. “If there’s a chance at restoring normalcy, we have to take it,” he sighed. “I’ll have the guard take point.”
---
The charge began slowly, with narrow wedges of Sjogydhu’s picked guards pushing past Sigu’s men to slam into the ranks of the dead. The civilian levees followed after, disorganized but roaring their enthusiasm as they laid into the teeming flow of corpses with weapons both bizarre and mundane.
Mark, Jesse, Jackie and Cosvamo ran in the center of the civilian cohort, reserving their strength for knots of unexpected resistance that threatened to disrupt or divert the tide of undisciplined troops - although the infusion of scripted weapons from the vault made them unexpectedly deadly. Items with kinetic enhancement or scripted to ignite matter on contact seemed especially common, which was both a boon and a hazard in the packed, shifting fight.
More than once they saw unbalanced swings knock into allies or spew fire in the wrong direction - but with the enemy so thoroughly surrounding them the balance of the chaos played out in their benefit. Their progress across the plaza was rapid, slowing only when they got to the river of bodies that constituted not-Eryha’s bulk.
The change was immediate. The dead reacted as one to the invader in their midst, convulsing like a scalded animal. They charged in from all sides to exert pressure that the undisciplined levees were hard-pressed to repel. Jesse and Mark moved to the front to try and clear a path as their progress slowed to a crawl, and for a smeared blur of time their world was swords and fire, hands reaching out of the night only to be beaten back in a spray of blood and crackling bone.
A gunshot rang out, the report coming clear and loud over the clamor of battle. Jesse fell back and shot a look at Mark, who shook his head.
“Wasn’t me,” he shouted. “I think we’re getting close.” His face darkened. “Watch for-”
“I know,” Jesse said, looking out into the dark. Even with Jes helping him, he failed to spot any of the others from base among the dead, no tall silhouettes standing out against the light stone of the buildings. Another shot rang out, and another, the bullets passing high overhead.
Jackie pressed forward to hurl bursts of flame ahead of the vanguard. She managed three attacks before she fell back, face pale and contorted with pain. Her hand was raw and bleeding, covered in blisters. Her momentary intervention won them a brief uncontested advance, though, giving them momentum that carried them forward through the seething crowd and into a broad thoroughfare - where their charge was stopped cold by a wall of hulking corpses arrayed across the road.
Mark fell back with a muttered curse as the first one rose up across his path. Scraps of tattered camouflage still clung to the corpse, and it held a knife clumsily in one hand as it lumbered towards them. The levee troops shied back from the front, their cheers turning to shouts of alarm as corpses nearly twice their height began to converge from every direction.
Jesse found himself struggling to fight against so many without the advantage in range and height that he normally enjoyed, and to the side he saw Mark losing ground as well. The Sjocelym were crumbling under the combined assault of the massed dead, shrinking to a small knot of resistance in the middle of a maelstrom.
A small thrill of victory still threaded through the fear, though, as Jesse ducked and slashed with increasingly-leaden arms. The storm overhead had stalled. Its momentum slowed, then reversed as not-Eryha turned her attention to the gnat stinging her flank. He could sense her animal irritation through Jes, her fury at the persistent nagging pain they inflicted - and then he had to focus on the moment as lightning struck again and the Sjocelym flank to his left buckled.
Brief, shrill screams of panic were cut off as booted feet charged over the disrupted line of levee troops, their enhanced weaponry not enough of an advantage against the physical might of the Earth-standard corpses. The advance of the dead was a dagger into their formation, repelled only when Jackie stepped forward with a wall of kinetic force that hurled the dead back into their own ranks.
She flung blast after blast into the dead until her knees buckled and she fell to the ground with a scream of agony. The tablet tumbled from her fingers. Jesse dropped back from the front as the Sjocelym reformed their lines, kneeling to prop her gently up from the ground. He felt her fevered convulsions as she cradled her arm to her chest. Her hand was pulsing blood, barely recognizable as he wrapped it in a strip torn from his Aesvain cloak. Her other hand scrabbled blindly on the ground before finding the tablet and thrusting it towards him.
“T-take it,” she said, her teeth clenching tight against the pain. “I can’t - anymore. Tija g-gave too much, I felt - agh, the bones go.” She shook it impatiently at him. “Take it!”
“I can’t use this,” Jesse protested.
Jackie glared up at him. “Don’t use the tool, use the power,” she hissed. “It’s - useless if we d-die here.”
The tablet sat inert in his hand, the glassy screen reflecting the faint flicker of lightning from above. He stood up and turned toward the tenuous line of Sjocelym straining against his fallen comrades, held together by the frantic efforts of Sjogydhu and his trained men. Their inscribed armor gave them enough of an edge to hold, but it was failing - they were failing.
Out of the sea of dead faces he saw the shadow’s gaunt mien again, the same hollow eyes and rotting cheeks that he’d seen in a vision at Sjatel, seen staring at their backs on the night when they fled the city.
Jesse looked at Eryha’s twisted shadow and met her eyes - then he brought the tablet up in one hand, using his sword to cleave it in two. An explosion brought day to the square, rippling out through the melee until everything was cast in a stark white light, blinding radiance against deepest shadow.
Not-Eryha’s face still stared out from the crowd, and Jesse took a step forward. He felt Jes walk with him, her hands on his as they lifted the sword, focusing on the tightest knot, the swirling core of the dead in the city that made up the heart of her and reached-
-and stumbled, finding themselves once again in the endless hall. The sword pulsed blinding-bright and golden, and Jesse fumbled to sheathe it before its siren song drew his eyes to the alcoves once again. He spun, half-blinded at the sudden light from above, searching for Jes and finding himself alone in the cold.
“No!” he shouted, balling his fist in frustration. “Come on! I had her, she was right there.”
The hall drank his words and gave no answer.
“Jes?” he called out, his voice deadened by the suffocating air. The cold began to gnaw at him, his heart pounding in his chest. He paced towards the center of the hall, looking around. Drawing the sword would still the cold, but Eryha’s warning pulsed in his ears - ruud cut both ways.
He called out again with no response, turning to look down the length of the hall - when he felt feminine fingers slip into his own, a bloom of warmth running up his arm. He smiled, relieved, and turned to Jes - only to freeze. It was Tija that had grabbed his hand, her fractured-glass face looking up at him solemnly.
“Um,” he said, resisting the urge to pull away. “Do you know how we can get out of here? I was drawing on your tablet’s energy, I think I can do real damage to Eryha’s shadow.” He paused, but she didn’t answer him. Her face was impassive, giving no sign that she had heard him.
“Tija?” he asked. “Can you hear me?”
Slowly, her mouth opened - unsettlingly wide, but her voice came forth as the barest whisper. “Draw - sword,” she murmured, sounding like wind against ice. “Only way.”
Jesse paused. “Eryha very specifically told me not to do that,” he said.
Her grip tightened on his hand, even as the warmth ebbed away. “Draw the sword,” she croaked. “You must.”
“Can’t you just take me back?” he asked. “I had her. If I can find a way out of here I can finish the attack, take her out. I know you wanted that, just help me escape.”
There was a long silence before Tija spoke again. “She is… of ruud,” she said. “Ruud claimed her. To use ruud against her you must - trade. A tool for a tool.”
Tija’s warmth was rapidly fading from his arm, leaving his fingers once again numb and tingling. “Then I’ll find another way,” Jesse said. He tried to disentangle his hand from hers, but she hung on stubbornly.
“There is no other way,” she said, smiling up at him. “It won’t be so bad. You still get what you want, in the end. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship.”
Jesse stared down at the girl clinging to his hand, her touch sending ice through his veins. “You’re not Tija,” he said, exerting an effort to keep his voice level.
“But I am,” she said. “And was, just as she was me. I am many people.” She leered up at him, squeezing his hand. “I could be you too. And it starts with giving you what you want. Your friends, saved. Their wounds healed, the violence settled in your favor.”
“And in exchange I become a tool for you.” Jesse looked down at the creature, feeling the cold creep towards his shoulder. “Should I call you Ruud, or do you have another name?”
“Such bravado,” she purred, walking slowly closer. “You don’t feel it, but you’re putting up a good front. So different from the man who first stepped through that doorway in the desert, timid and unsure. That’s my doing too, by the way. Just a taste of what you could be if you draw that sword again.”
The tendrils of ice spidered across his collarbone, and Jesse winced. “If I’m different than when I came, it’s because of Jes,” he said, gritting his teeth. “You had nothing to do with it.”
“Jes,” she scoffed. “And what is your Jes but ruud manifest? How did she come into being, save for my redirection of Eryha onto the wanderer’s path? She railed against me never knowing that she did my work, even as she perished.”
Jesse looked down, feeling a stab of uncertainty for the first time. “She severed the connection,” he said. “Gave Jes autonomy-”
“But she was still ruud,” the girl hissed, pulling him forcefully down to her level. “Still the pulsing lifeblood of this world, my lifeblood.” She smiled, revealing entirely too many teeth. “I am God, Jesse Gibson. I created all life on this world, nurtured it, helped it grow.”
“Stole it,” Jesse hissed, feeling the ice creep close to his throat. “Poisoned it, used it to try to free yourself.” He clenched his jaw, swallowing against the creeping numbness. “Just like you’re trying to use me.”
“I am offering to save your life,” she said, tracing a finger down his cheek. “Life is survival of the fittest, and the fittest are those I give my favor to. You show promise, but if you insist on squandering that promise I can find another.”
Her features blurred, morphing into Jackie’s face. “You know how she longs to right the injustices of this world. We could, together.”
Jesse coughed, glaring defiantly into the facsimile’s eyes. “I think you’re - underestimating her,” he said, his tongue feeling thick with the cold. “The ends don’t justify the means, for Jackie.”
“Then someone with a simpler approach,” she said, shifting once again into Mark’s image.
Jesse couldn’t help but laugh, though it turned into a choking sputter as the cold wormed into his lungs. “You can’t… tempt… Mark,” he panted. “He’d tell you - fuck off.”
“And can I tempt you?” he said, shifting into Arjun’s wizened face. “There is nothing beyond me. If you want him back, he is yours. I would prefer you to this shade of Eryha, Jesse. She’s mindless, brutal. I’m a thinking being, I prefer having partners to servants.”
Another blur, and Jes was holding his hand, her touch a glimmer of warmth amid the ice running through his body. “You could have anything you wanted, for as long as you wanted,” she purred, her lips hot against his frozen skin. “All I ask is for your consideration.”
“I already have - Jes,” he grunted. “I am her, and she-” He choked, the ice constricting his airway.
“You have nothing,” she said. “Nothing on this world but what I give you. And I could give you so much more than that.” She knelt down in front of him, leaning in close as his vision began to blur. “Would you like to go home, Jesse? I brought you here, I can send you back just as easily. You and your friends.”
Jesse stared up at the apparition, then looked away and closed his eyes.
The image of Jes sighed. “So be it,” she said. “Die. And may-”
A ripple pulsed through the grand hall, bringing the scent of soil and rain into the leaden air. The ice that gripped Jesse shattered, and he fell gasping to the cold stone of the floor.
“What?” she snarled, turning to face away from him. She raised a hand, then staggered back as another pulse washed over them. Feeling rushed back into Jesse’s limbs, and he struggled to his knees.
“What’s the matter?” he gasped. “Huh? I thought you had control over ruud?”
“I am ruud!” she roared, the lines of her face distorting sideways into too many directions, her outline blurring oddly. “You were brought here to serve my will. For my purpose.”
“You opened the door, I chose to walk through,” Jesse said, struggling to his feet. “I don’t serve you.” Another pulse, and the walls of the hall rippled, small vines growing out from cracks in the stone. A flush of heat spread from his arm, and suddenly Jes was standing there beside him - unmistakably his, and scowling at the creature wearing her face.
It stared back, dumbfounded. “How?” it rasped, its voice now far removed from any human norm. “How can you defy me?”
“You’ve been planning for a long while,” Jes said, “pushing things to a point where humans could wield energy capable of freeing you. And you were thorough - your plans covered every foreseeable future.” She smiled at it, although there was no warmth in the expression. “But the people you last brought here have a curious concept,” she said. “It describes a thinking being that can freely improve on itself. The means were different, in their theory, but Eryha stumbled upon the same idea by accident.”
She took a step closer, and cracks spread across the stone where her feet fell. “They called it Singularity, because past that point the future cannot be foreseen.”
She took another step forward. Her voice deepened to a throaty growl. “I am still limited, because Jesse is my world - but within that world I AM ABSOLUTE.” The avatar of ruud flinched back from her words, staggering under their impact, and Jes took a final step to grab it by the throat.
“And I say that this world needs no god. You cannot have him.”
She let the avatar drop to the stone, then turned away to smile at a dumbfounded Jesse, taking his hand and leading him towards a door that had appeared in the wall. It glowed with an inviting light, wreathed with small vines that few even as he watched.
“I will destroy him,” the creature gasped from the floor. “And you will die with him. You cannot protect him from me.”
Jes paused and turned, looking down at the crumpled heap. “I’m not the one who will,” she said, pointing upward. The creature’s pallid face turned up just as the radiance streaming in from the high windows faltered and failed, blotted out by the towering leaves of a cerein.
The avatar of ruud gaped, staring up at the gently swaying branches. “Impossible,” it said. “This world is my domain.”
“And she loves it,” Jes said. “Just as much as you resent it. Cereinem live to build and grow, to preserve. To be Caretakers, as they ever were. So rest assured, your prison will remain for a long while yet. Nourished by your spirit - and free from your control.”
They turned again and left the shrunken thing cowering amid the vines and twining roots that sullied its hall, stepping through the door - and as Jesse crossed the threshold the sword was in his hand once more, wreathed in light and crashing towards the mass of dead. It struck true, sundering the night with an explosion that ripped through the core of not-Eryha’s swarm.
For a brief second the light caught her face - and then it was gone.
---
We're still going! Keep reading at the next post!

Supplements, Characters and Glossary for your reference.

A guide to catching things in the stands...

Copypasta (Fuck Trevor Plouffe)
If you're an grown ass adult that pays their own bills and everything, and a player (or ball/bat girl/boy) soft tosses a ball into the crowd after an inning or during BP and you catch it? You've gotta give it to a kid. Don’t even start to consider who you might be able to impress with it later, hand it to the smallest, cutest little fucker nearby. Experience what it feels like to impress a hundred (or a thousand) strangers a tiny way for a fleeting moment. I promise it won’t turn you into a communist or lead you to hand in your personal arsenal of questionable small arms to the authorities.
If you end up catching a legitimately batted ball, you get to keep that shit no matter how old you are. If you were wearing your glove, don't get too impressed with yourself until you see the exit velocity on the replay you rushed home to watch. But if you saved someone's life or limb by catching it, or if you snatch a stray spinning bat out of the air, you're allowed to get impressed with yourself on the spot. If you had every opportunity to catch it, and everyone in the stands and watching at home thought you were definitely going to, but it klangs off your palms (because you never bothered doing those soft hand drills properly in little league) and touches anything that could be considered a floor or ground of some kind, you don’t get to scramble with everyone else for it at your feet. The universe chose this moment to reach out and touch you with an opportunity, and you weren’t fucking ready for it. You shit the bed, right there, in front of everyone. You don’t get to pick up second chances from the ground, you steal them out of the air. And if the ball has been absolutely smoked towards you risking the life and limb of others less capable around you but couldn’t possibly snag this with your bare hands, try to get your body in front of it and take one for the team. It happens to the catchers, the infielders and even most horribly, some of the pitchers (the most fragile of souls and bodies)(and foreheads) you’re supposed to be watching. Every hitter ends up wearing one occasionally, intentionally or accidentally, and even outfielders run into walls, begging to make that 3rd out with runners on.
And, if you're over 18, you can't go scrambling through empty rows of seats with little kids to pick up a fly ball that nobody managed to catch. Start practicing to be an adult or else nobody will ever confuse you with one. You don’t earn a game ball just because you happened to be sitting nearby and you’re faster and stronger than most 12 year olds. Let that shit go and let them have it.
I'm sorry but I can't have any sympathy getting hit with a foul ball or a spinning bat because they weren't watching the game. I believe that watching baseball (even while playing) is great because it affords you every opportunity to have the time (in between pitches, in between plays, in between games, during arguments, during replays) to talk to someone next to you about something that you just saw and have an opinion about. Hell, you can even check your phone if you're in the stands and you're able to figure out when things are happening in the game and when they aren't. If you're sitting or standing close enough to get injured by a bat or ball during a game you're supposed to be watching, have some fucking respect for the players that are playing. You're within X distance of literally the best players in the world, thousands of baseball fans all over the rest of the world may never get to watch any MLB game in the flesh during their lifetime, how fucking spoilt are you that you'd rather be playing candy crush or swiping on TindeGrindGrifter than watch guys try to achieve the hardest thing to do in sport? Why turn up at all if you're not going to watch? Someone paid pretty good money to have you sit there, have some fucking respect for them.
At the very least, have some fucking self-awareness, because there are people capable of accidentally (and completely innocently) injuring or even killing you at a game. They're right there, risking career ending injuries or total humiliation on every fucking play they're involved in, and they've been at it for hours now. If I’m going to die from a frozen rope to the head while sitting in the stands, I should at least know which big leaguer was responsible for it. They’re going to feel horrible for it either way, but at least if you know who they are it’ll be far easier to visit them as a ghost and tell them it wasn’t their fault. It was entirely yours, as you couldn’t be bothered to watch the parts of their at bat when they were swinging. And if you weren’t, what the fuck were you doing at the game? You only have to pay attention during the moments in the game that matter, and it’s up to you to figure out or ask what they actually are.
Then what about the guy reaching down between his feet for the next fresh beer that he's been cradling without caring/noticing that the pitcher had already started his windup and now that he's got his overpriced plastic cup of watered down draft back up to a normal sitting position he takes a line drive foul ball to the chest, spraying everyone with foam and shards of plastic? People who have fucking gall to call themselves fans of the game (and a goddamn Commissioner for fucks sake) want to speed up the game? Let the game take all the time it needs, I say. During a 3 hour game you only really have to keep your eyes on the field for no more then an hour at most. That means you get a least two hours per game of serenity, of sanctuary, from this rapidly changing world to: be alone with your thoughts, to discuss a life issue or inside baseball opinion with a friend, loved one or family member (they're not always the same), life partner, person who paid for your seat, or even the stranger who happens to be sitting next to you. Not finishing off that email to Sharon in HR about your recommendations going forward for maximising team member loyalty to corporate. And in the times you are meant to be watching, you have the chance to see something truly magical happen, in real life. You’ll even get to watch replays of it for years and revisit that incredible moment you experienced.
Finally, if you are a father, with a son who just loves baseball, and is old enough and capable enough of fathoming just how special a legit MLB game ball is, and just how incredibly talented and hard-working MLB players are and the sacrifices they've made in their life to get to that level and stay at that level, and one of these players tosses one of those balls, underarm, at the end of any part of any game, and you manage pluck it out of the air before all the other dirty, grubby and grabby fan hands can reach it, don't you fucking dare to claim that you can keep it, because you have a son and he loves baseball and it would be just so special if you could give it to him... If all that is genuinely and sincerely true, then where the fuck is he and why are you at a game without him? The only possible exception is if your beloved, baseball loving son (who's a huge Tatis fan by the way and feels he's just misunderstood) is up at the back of the grandstand taking a shit while you caught said magical ball. Only then can you justifiably guard it with your life, despite boos from the unruly crowd and network television attention. But you have to make a HUGE song and dance about it when he finally returns (now 32 ounces lighter) and you can present the little fella with the ball in front of everyone and even the commentators (or maybe just JomBoy that notices it 3 hours later) will appreciate that your son has regained a little more than 5 ounces in weight with that special leather sphere in his precious little hands. God forbid his tiny soul if you discover that he's playing catch with it the next day against a concrete wall.
On the other hand, if your son is in a hospital ward crumbling away from bone cancer and giving him that game ball might just save him from the precipice and return him back to full health, why the fuck are you at a ball game enjoying yourself and not next to your son’s bed in said hospital?
Also, if you’re a father and things haven’t been that great lately so you’ve taken your son to a game but he can’t take his face out of his phone? Yes, your special time is ruined and it’s your fucking fault. If you haven’t realised that he’s not interested in baseball, no matter how much YOU are, then you really haven’t been engaging with him very much lately and you should probably talk with him about what he’s really interested in, rather than forcing him to keep trying to like what you like.

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Tinder users of Reddit, what's the best pick up line you've ever used/someone's ever used on you?

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My experience as a JW- F 22 long read

GME Benefits 4 All (Children’s Hospital, Employees, and young customers in hard financial situations) 🚀🥜

Speaking of shares

1. Children’s Hospital

little story time

2. Sad side of GME

This applied to me...I experienced this growing up.

3. Employees:

4. Random people:

🚨🚨NOKle HEADS ITS GENERAL CHEESE WITH THE UPDATE. GET IN THE BRIEFING ROOM. WE NEED TO DISCUSS. 🚨🚨

Realities of a Minor's Life on the Road

[A Staff of Crystal and Bone][CoreVerse] Reboot Chapter 7

Inheritors of Eschaton, Part 64 - Inheritance (2 of 3)

A guide to catching things in the stands...

best pick up lines ever tinder video

best pick up lines ever tinder top

Best of 'Let Me Holla' Most Iconic, & Wildest Pick-Up ...

Top 10 best tinder pick up lines 2020

best pick up lines ever tinder

best pick up lines ever tinder - win

Just left r/tinder the posts are too cringey with people constantly replying “that’s the best pick up line ever” to a pretty subpar line. *aneurysm inducing eyeroll*

this may be the best tinder diabetic pick up line i’ve ever seen.

Tinder users, what’s the best pick up line you’ve ever seen or used?

What is the best pick up line you've ever heard through tinder?

Tinder users of Reddit, what's the best pick up line you've ever used/someone's ever used on you?

Best tinder pick up line you've ever used / heard?

What's the best pick-up line you've ever used on Tinder?

What is the best Tinder pick up line you have ever received or sent, also did it work?

My experience as a JW- F 22 *long read*

GME Benefits 4 All (Children’s Hospital, Employees, and young customers in hard financial situations) 🚀🥜

Speaking of shares

1. Children’s Hospital

little story time

2. Sad side of GME

This applied to me...I experienced this growing up.

3. Employees:

4. Random people:

🚨🚨NOKle HEADS ITS GENERAL CHEESE WITH THE UPDATE. GET IN THE BRIEFING ROOM. WE NEED TO DISCUSS. 🚨🚨

Realities of a Minor's Life on the Road

[A Staff of Crystal and Bone][CoreVerse] Reboot Chapter 7

Inheritors of Eschaton, Part 64 - Inheritance (2 of 3)

A guide to catching things in the stands...

best pick up lines ever tinder video

best pick up lines ever tinder top

Best of 'Let Me Holla' Most Iconic, & Wildest Pick-Up ...

Just left r/tinder the posts are too cringey with people constantly replying “that’s the best pick up line ever” to a pretty subpar line. aneurysm inducing eyeroll

My experience as a JW- F 22 long read