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thelemmallama · 11 months ago

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An exchange in the comment section of this (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4d9EuKdpA1U) video that got swallowed by youtube. I hate putting all that effort into a conversation only for it to all vanish into the void, so I'm logging it here:

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A 1 year ago (edited) To be honest this game has really interesting mechanics and art but I can't stand the yandere trope & I feel like this is building up to it. I think this game is just going to end up being demonizing or romanticizing of mental illness and neither of those are really good -_-

Edit: Reply on this comment gave me some more details and I am still a bit cautious, but open to seeing more of this game!

B 1 year ago That's fair in my opinion, it also puts me off a bit, but at the same time I feel like properly handling those topics might be asking a but much from a game of this format.

Like, again, I completely understand where you are coming from, but from my perspective the devs where just trying to represent how things aren't all positive in that kind of scenario. I try to watch it under the assumption that people won't use it as a reference on how to handle that kind of struggle in real life, but it's also perfectly reasonable to not stand for that kind of oversimplification.

A 1 year ago If you can't properly handle sensitive issues like mental health in your game, then don't put it in there. They could've made a normal game about a girl living a double life as a streamer, or an emotionally complex game with serious ups and downs. But the in-between is extremely dangerous because kids see stuff like this and grow to romanticize it. Regardless of the dev's intentions, it's irresponsible at the least.

B 1 year ago fair

B 1 year ago Hey I don't know if you still care about this conversation but I looked a bit more into this game and there's some things I want to talk about but they involve spoilers so read it if you wish to.

Spoilers below: . . .

After watching all of the endings I don't feel like this game romanticized or demonizes mental illnesses. It's a cautionary tale about just how unhealthy the "streamer" mindset can be where what at first glance seemed like an "in between" is actually the game luring in people that are interested in that kind of thing and show them just how bad it can be.

Sure, the game never really teaches how to actually deal with her mental health issues, but what it does show is that using a search for popularity and higher numbers as a coping mechanism really isn't the solution.

As for the endings themselves, they vary a lot, from her overworking herself, getting addicted and even committing suicide to more basic/joke ones like her living a normal life in a job she hates or her simply dumping you for a streamer with a horse head, the consistent theme is that she is either very unhappy or pretty much went insane. None of the endings act like she doesn't have mental issues, and none of the endings present anything she does as a solution, as again, even in the ones where she is supposedly happy it is clear that she is far from okay. The "true ending" doesn't really focus much on her mental health as she simply decides to try to make her own decisions and once she realizes she doesn't need to depend on you she removes all options in the game except turning it off and you can't play again, similar to how Doki Doki Literature Club corrupts itself at completion.

So yeah, it's a cautionary tale, doesn't teach how to deal with psychological issues, just that the "streamer mindset" can cause and intensify many of them. Probably could have executed some aspects better, then again it is kind of trying to appear simple at the start.

A 1 year ago Oh ok, thank you for this info! This does sound a lot better than I was expecting, if CMC decides to continue this playthrough I might give it more of a chance :]

@crapshoot 17 hours ago Ehhhh … I mean, a lot of people have mental health issues and want to write/make stuff about it, but have impostor syndrome ("am I actually struggling or am I just romanticizing it/using it as an aesthetic?"), exp. with all the accusations floating around about ppl faking mental illness for attention.

Plus it's hard to be vulnerable and take yourself seriously; people do this kind of in-between stuff as a coping mechanism, kind of like how people make "jokes" about serious stuff that aren't really jokes.

That's not to say media is beyond criticism and we can totally point out demonizing/romanticizing narratives and explain why a particular work handles a sensitive issue poorly, but "if you can't, then don't" is harmful imo. Even if you don't see it as problematic censorship, it often ends up silencing all the wrong people.

A 17 hours ago @crapshoot @crapshoot Hi! This comment is a bit old & I do agree with a lot of the things you mentioned. I also struggle w/mental health & seeing it poorly portrayed frustrates me, which was ultimately what led me to making this comment. I see how my phrasing was harsh, I am personally of the belief that writing from experience can pretty much never be "incorrect", and I do not know if this game was created based out of personal experience. I dislike this game for personal reasons at this point, some of which relate to the portrayal of mental health, and some do not.

A 16 hours ago @crapshoot Like my problem with this game isn't that it shows the "gritty reality" of mental health issues or is like a unique perspective on a girl's declining mental state that's unsavory to the general public. It's a tropey yandere game w/semi-unique mechanics that's draped in a cutesy style. Yandere as a genre is based on stigmatized depictions of personality disorders. To me, that sort of thing is much different than someone creating a piece of media from lived experience.

@crapshoot 16 hours ago I guess my point was not every actually knows they're writing from personal experience. Like people legitimately think "do I actually want to die or do I just want to be edgy?"/"am I actually struggling to do things because I lack energy or have executive dysfunction, or am I just lazy?". Even very basic seeming things like "I'm feeling happy/sad/angry right now", are things some people question.

And again, some people lean into tropes because they're afraid of being vulnerable, because it makes them open to accusations of "taking themselves too seriously". Being a tropey yandere game is not in itself proof that something is not written from lived experience.

(Of course, tropey yandere games do often portray things in a harmful way; I'm not disputing that. And I haven't gotten very far into the LP yet, so I'm certainly not defending this particular game that I don't know much about. I'm just criticizing the reasoning of your comment; you can be right about this game for the wrong reasons. I never thought your problem with this game is that it shows the "gritty reality" of mental health issues or is like a unique perspective on a girl's declining mental state that's unsavory to the general public.)

I hope I'm not coming across as invalidating your frustration with your experiences of mental health struggles being portrayed poorly; again, I'm in favour of criticizing media depictions. I just think certain styles of reasoning are harmful to other people with other mental health struggles that are perhaps different from your own. (But yeah, not everyone can confidently say "I struggle with mental health". I'm not sure if you're picking up on the vagueing here; I feel like I'm being pretty heavy-handed but idk -- it's not about you anyway so maybe it's better if you didn't pick up on it :'D)

A 9 hours ago @crapshoot Okay well I get a lot about what you're saying but the fact that you had to end that w/invalidating my mental health issues is.. shitty & doesn't rlly make me wanna engage with this conversation anymore. You do not know anything about me nor my lived experiences, don't speak like you do. Just because I can confidently say in this moment that I have struggles doesn't mean I always do.

@crapshoot 8 minutes ago (edited) I didn't mean to imply I knew anything about you or your lived experiences, and I'm sorry I came across that way:

When I said "other people with other mental health struggles that are perhaps different from your own", I did actually mean perhaps different, not definitely different; it was not meant to preclude you having the same issues.

Even if you can always confidently say you have struggles, that doesn't invalidate the struggles themselves.

And I did say I wasn't vaguing about you.

Your mental health issues are valid.

You don't have to continue this conversation further ofc; in case you're still reading though, if you sometimes struggle to say you have struggles, then you can understand why some people may feel the need to portray mental health issues in "jokey"/"tropey"/less straightforwardly serious ways, right?

#needy streamer overload #mental illness representation

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jadelynlace · 4 years ago

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Okay so hear me out, I don’t really have a fully fledged idea for this request. I was rewatching Vikings and Ivar and a pregnant wife would be super cute, so yeah. That’s all I’ve got. Bring on the fluff!

I wrote this in modern times, again, because I have no shame.

[ Maybe some shame. I won’t tell you. ]

warnings: mentions of pregnancy under the cut. this is sickly sweet and I love every part of Dad!Ivar.

Despite what anyone thought, Ivar would claim that the pregnancy was planned. Even when it most certainly, was not. So much so that you were afraid to tell him, your husband, that in nine months it wouldn’t be just the two of you anymore. But this wasn’t exactly a secret that would keep well.

The topic of children was seldom discussed unless it was brought up on the account of somebody else. You even mentioning “how cute it would be...” was met with minimal enthusiasm on Ivar’s part. If you really wanted something to baby, he joked about a puppy.

You hoped the baby would have his eyes.

As you sat cross-legged on the bed, the small stick in your hand, you heard him approach the room. Still too fearful to look at him, he watched you from where he leaned against the door frame.

“Cat got your tongue?” He hummed, raising his eyebrows as the words floated from his mouth, through the air as if they were a balloon.

“Yeah,” You chuckled slightly, still turning the small device in your hands as you felt your stomach sink somewhere lower in your abdomen. Or you could already be suffering from nausea that was doomed to show itself eventually. “I--I just hope our baby has your eyes,” You then said, making the small stick in your hands visible to Ivar.

“Are you serious?” He asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

“I know you don’t want kids, Ivar, but--I just--I do--and if you don’t want to be with me because I’m--” You words died in your throat as you heard yourself speak them into existence. If he didn’t want to be with you anymore.

“Do you hear yourself right now?” He laughed, already by your side as he reached to see the small phrase on the test’s screen.

“Careful, I pissed on that,” You teased, laying the test in his hand as he found himself smile.

“If they have my eyes, I want them to have your hair color,” He said, his fingers coming up to trace the loose strands that he could reach. That arm went around you, pulling you closer to him as his lips grazed your temple. “I’ve wanted kids of my own for so long, I was just too afraid to admit to it, I didn’t want to drive you insane with everything I could tell you about what I’ve thought up,” Ivar then whispered, his words dancing around the shell of her ear.

“I guess you’re going to have to let loose on all of those secrets eventually, daddy,” You teased him. You could hear the small laugh that vibrated through his chest as he told you to stand up. Standing before him, his hands rest on your hips and pulls you forward just enough so his lips can rest near your navel.

“Hey, little one. It’s your Dad--there’s so much I can’t wait to teach you and show you, but you stay in there until you’re ready, alright? And please don’t give your mommy too much trouble while you’re in there either. She’s giving you the best home you’ll need for the time being. I already love you more than you can understand, and I’ll be right there when you’re out,”

tagged: @pinkdahlia8 @megameatloafcake @katieskrsgard @bskarsgardlove92 @smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @a-stunning-princess @heisentwerk @0cean-witch @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @temperent @unbetaedimagines @dagg-r @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @queen-sarang @emmyrosee @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @swedishpoetry @walkxthexmoon @strawberrylipstickstain @flowers-in-your-hayr @alexhandersenblog @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa @al-wiisa @youbloodymadgenius

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/fandom/etc are also welcomed.*

full masterlist can be found here.

#— a gun shot. ( answered )#modern ivar lothbrok #modern vikings #modern ivar #ivar lothbrok fanfiction #ivar lothbrok #requests #— i am i am i am. ( my writings & creations )

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years ago

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Into the Unknown (The Big, Big Bang; Part 1.)

Series summary: Sometimes, you might feel lonely in the entirety of the universe; of all of the stars, planets and constellations... Until it comes. The big bang that turns the world upside down, the reason why all the stars collide and why you, in the first place, are alive.

Part summary: Remus wasn’t as social as you’d maybe assume when you’d got to know him. Yet althrough his personal struggles, for some reason, Dumbledore had chosen him as his new DADA teacher.

A/N: Okay, this is more or less the first, informative, get-into-the-story chapter and there’s not much happening at the moment. I swear, we will pump it up, just give it at least two parts.

Word count: 2.3 K

Tagging: @notaliteraltoad

Series playlist: H E R E

Series masterlist: H E R E

If you'd ever put a piece of parchment, inkwell and a goose quill and asked Remus John Lupin do describe himself with a few sentences, the parchment would be empty for a few minutes before he'd settle on one small word: a loner. He was alone for quite a time, he wasn't too attracted by the idea of a human accompany; after everything that happened with Sirius, James and Peter, he wasn't quite sure if he would be able to connect with a someone new at the time of speaking. The second word he'd most probably used would be ill - then, he would cross the word and write 'seriously ill' instead.

There wasn't a lot of people who knew what Lupin was going through or what kind of illness he was diagnosed with thanks to hiding away at the edge of every thinkable society; his bad state was visible just from looking at him. His skin was dry and almost transparent almost all the time and when his illness was getting the best of him, he even appeared lightly green. His hair was slowly thinning out as he grew older, but it still wasn't as bad as it could be. The only thing that remained the same over the last few decades were his eyes.

The last sentence he would write would most likely say 'down to earth'. It was a rather generous name for not having much money, always looking shabby and, as some wizards or witches would say, second-like hand. Not that Lupin would be proud of what he was looking like, but there weren't many things he could with it - wizards with his sort of 'illness' rarely got a good job proposition if they ever ended up having one.

For everything that was stated above and far more, it was a miracle when he got approached with a job offers from one of the most well-respected, smartest and brilliant wizard of all time, Album Dumbledore himself. The old man found him hidden away in Yorkshire, living in one tumbledown, semi-derelict cottage at the line of poverty itself. Remus felt like he didn't have the right to complain; he was a damn werewolf. And thanks to the small reminder spoiling his whole face, everyone who could order him something to do for a living knew about this aspect of his life way sooner than Remus would've liked them to.

The night Dumbledore had walked into his humble home, he barely got one shirt that held together without patches; most of his clothes was patched up already - all of his trousers and coats surely. At first, he vehemently dismissed Dumbledore's wish for Lupin working at his school as a DADA teacher. What Dumbledore was suggesting was pure madness. Remus always thought he's a calm and tolerable man - yet when Albus told him everything that he was asking of him, Remus almost lost it.

Yes, of course - there were the mad werewolves like Fenrir Greyback who hunt children down just for sport and making sure that more and more people would be carrying this sick curse. Lupin hated these sons of bitches the most. He himself was one of their victims in the end. And Albus Dumbledore, the most brilliant man Lupin had ever met, one of the few that Lupin had real respect for was asking him to be a teacher at the biggest wizarding school in all of England, Ireland and Scotland? No. That was an offer that couldn't be accepted, that was pure madness. He would never willingly get near such a cluster of young people who were full of dreams and had their lives ahead of themselves. What would happen if he would lose control? How many people would get hurt because of one slip? Did Dumbledore realize how many things he was betting by asking Remus such thing?

But to Remus' surprise, Albus smiled dismissively and stood up from his half-broken-down sofa. With a serious face, Dumbledore had told him that now, he had a professor who could brew the perfect Wolfsbane potion every month and according to Albus, this said the professor was a potions master and genius. However, if Lupin wouldn't trust himself as much to spend the night of wolfing out inside the Forbidden Forest, there still was the Shrieking shack, just like Remus used to remember it. As a small topic for consideration, Albus left there a small bag with thirty Galleons laying on the coffee table, so Lupin could at least buy himself the most basic needs - whether he would take the job offer or not, the money was his to use, to keep or to give to someone else.

After that, Albus left the cottage. He knew what he was doing and what Remus is capable of. When Albus was leaving, he was smiling and humming a jolly song; he knew very well that he's leaving Remus with his thoughts alone and he knew very well that this lycanthropic wizard had one of the biggest potentials for teaching Albus had ever encountered.

Everything got sealed on one dark August night. It was mostly the idea of him and Black meeting that made Remus send an express letter to Hogwarts. Sirius Black, the insane wizard that had murdered twelve muggles and his very own best friend, had escaped from Azkaban. Anyone could tell how he had done it, anyone knew where he was and what was he planning to do. Yet Remus had the feeling he should be counting on Sirius visiting him; in the end, Black already murdered one of their small group of friends and helped with murdering the second one... Remus had the feeling that Black might be wanting to finish what had happened in 1981 and for that, he accepted Dumbeldore's proposition. He was to be one of the Hogwarts teachers.

During the rest of the summer and hiding away, Lupin started to study the materials for each year he was to teach; back in his school days, he was one of the greatest students Hogwarts had seen. There was rarely a test in which Lupin got worse than Exceeding Expectations. It was mostly caused by his natural interest in the art of wizardry and by Remus' gratefulness - Dumbeldore let him study like every other normal student and prevented him from hurting anyone else during the full moon. And DADA? Dear Merlin, he always had a deep appreciation for this class. One of his biggest DADA achievements was that he could cast the Patronus Charm without too much of a trouble. Also... The creatures were quite brilliant and before Lupin could comprehend, he was looking forward to sharing his knowledge with all of the young people in Hogwarts.

At the same time, he realized that he will be there. Son of James and Lily Potter. His name was Harry and he had last seen when he was smaller than Lupin's forearms. He was nothing more than a sweet, laughing boy covered in one big blanket. How old was he now? Twelve? Thirteen? Remus couldn't even count it down properly, he just knew that the boy's going to be there once be starts his teaching career.

As to be expected, the safety precautions around Hogwarts got more intense - Nd so did everywhere else. Lupin was especially aware of that once a Dementor harassing a black-hearted boy had woken him up. And to his realization, it was Harry Potter himself who got into trouble. The most logical thing that came to mind was to talk to the staff and to make sure there are no more dementors inside the train.

Yet once he made sure the train was safe, he couldn't bring himself to go back to the coupe and rather stayed in the corridors on a watch, trying to ensure the safety inside the train. His mind, on the other hand, was racing - James' son, his murdered best friend's son, was inside and he looked just like James. Except for the eyes. Those were, without a doubt, Lily's. Lupin didn't expect such a low blow on his very first day. At that moment, he promised himself to be better. He promised himself that he'd teach the kids everything he knew; and he was particularly excellent in this subject, so the kids had.

The first days at school were... Good. Lupin wasn't particularly all over the place because he wasn't quite comfortable with the all-the-time type of company. The other teachers tried to talk to him, to make him feel good about himself and the purpose of his staying inside the school's walls and he didn't avoid the introduction where the whole Great hall had given him short applause.

McGonagall, who was sitting next to him, persisted on Remus calling her "Minerva" and every time he dared to call her Mrs professor, she gave him a furrowed look, correcting him in her straight-to-the-point type of voice. Madame Pomfrey was also fond of seeing him after such a long time in a pretty good shape and Hagrid tried his absolute best to behave; there was still quite a lot of memories inside other's minds that connected him with Sirius and Remus could understand the worried looks and careful words. Needless to say, the whole feast was delicious as it usually was in Hogwarts and after such a long and draining day, he was glad to walk the quiet and dark halls before he took off to his room, located close to the DADA schoolroom to have some proper and certainly refreshing sleep.

First classes after the feast in the Great hall were the worst for Remus. There were new faces to remember, a lot whole more of names and... At first, he was lost when it came to some of the students. The name of Justin Flinch-Fletchey didn't crawl into his brain until the end of the first week; however, there were people of whom he was very aware against his better judgement.

One of them was Harry and his two friends, Hermione and Ronald - no matter what they said or did, they always looked there are about to cause some mischief. This, of course, could be only a feeling inside of Lupin's guts; yet from other professors, he listened to the wild stories about the past two years; all of which had Potter himself in the centre. Another student he was keeping his eyes on was Neville Longbottom, the son of Alice and Frank. The fates of his parents were heartbreaking and growing up with his grandmother, who was a persistent and unpleasant woman at times, had to be hard for such a gentle soul. There were moments when Lupin could see glimpses of his own uncertainty and shyness in Neville's words. At last, there was a girl from Hufflepuff named Rosamunda who caught his eye simply because her mother was one of his former schoolmates.

Kids who caught his attention naturally without having some sorts of a past connection with him were Fred and George Weasley who were friends with Lee Jordan, another Griffindor student - they were quite a loud and jolly party who, when the topic was right, had a lot of questions and were very curious about the subject. On the other hand, when they didn't have one of those days, they could be annoying, to say the least. Another girl, Heather from Ravenclaw, had caught his eye simply because of her unusually deep interest in DADA. There were no students who would give him any sorts of trouble, which was also a win. As Lupin got a hold on his classes step by step, it suddenly didn't seem to be so out worldly that he'd have the potential to be a teacher - and a good one.

Sure, there were concerns expressed by others member of the staff, especially by Snape, that were regarding his lycanthropy. Yet as Dumbledore had sworn to him, everyone was doing their best when it came to that - madame Pomfrey made sure that the Shrieking shack is at the disposal all the time, Snape was brewing the potions even though his mostly anti-Lupin agenda and Dumbledore himself sworn to him that if there would be a situation in which a student was to be harmed, he himself would prevent that.

Everything seemed to be falling in its place.

It was the break between the noon and afternoon classes in which Lupin was to assigned to have a patrol on the small courtyard opposite the Great hall where some students took their lunches so they could spend some time out in the open before the weather gets bad. And the occupation of the courtyard was quite big - some students were just taking a short break and played Exploding snap throughout, the Weasley twins were throwing some kind of small, non-burning fireworks at each other and there were even people who simply chatted the whole period away. Lupin himself was quietly standing in one of the corners, leaning into a wall dressed in one of his shabby sweaters and ate an apple while overseeing the whole situation.

There was a moment where he didn't notice it at all - someone had crashed into a group of three students, taking two of them down onto the ground. It was hard to see what was happening there since there was quite a lot of people in the way. The only thing he could see were people picking off the ground as another person was running off inside the castle. Honestly, he didn't know where to jump first - if he should go to help the students laying on the ground. - "I am so sorry! I will buy you a lollipop or something!" - The woman who jumped at them yelled over her shoulder and disappeared inside the castle. He could only see a grey sweater, long black pants and her hair flow in the wind as she ran for... For an unknown reason.

The only thing he had seen was her back, he could hear her yelling some nonsense at the students and even though, it knocked the apple out of his hand as he looked at her disappearing. There was something. Remus couldn't exactly name it, but there was some energy about her. Yet in the end, he walked to the group to check on them, letting the woman disappear inside.

#remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #remus john lupin #harry potter movies #harry potter books #harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban #harry potter

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dropintomanga · 4 years ago

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A Look at “I Sold My Life for 10K Yen Per Year”

We all have kinds of taboo topics that reinforce what’s appropriate to talk about. Religion, money, politics, sex, etc. While these are reasonable topics to avoid addressing in many cases, there’s one taboo topic that really affects everyone. It’s death. In modern urban society, we all avoid any mention of it with good reason. Yet we live our lives to a point where we may feel that death is an appropriate way to escape.

What if you felt that way? What if you realized that life is mostly meaningless and then try to get rid of your future? A manga adaptation of a well-known Japanese novel takes a look at that possibility and how it can lead to an unexpected and profound experience for the better.

This manga, “I Sold My Life for 10,000 Yen Per Year” by Shoichi Taguchi, made me wonder about how much people matter in living a life well lived.

The series, based off a novel called “3 Days of Happiness” by Sugaru Miaki, is about a 30-year man named Kusunoki, whose life hasn’t turned out the way it expected for him. While he was an ace student in his younger days, Kusunoki has no direction in life. He spends his days living off of part-time work. One day, while selling old books and DVDs to a secondhand shop, the owner of the shop tells Kusunoki about a place that buys your lifespan for a set price depending on how much value your life has accumulated. Kusunoki finds the place, gets a quota and sells off the 30 years of his life for 300,000 yen. He only has 3 months to live. Kusunoki is assigned an observer, a girl by the name of Miyagi, whose job is to chronicle the rest of his existence. The two would find a connection through shared experiences and the story becomes a sad and beautiful story about love in the face of certain death.

Death is scary to talk about and it makes us feel alive. When confronted with their own mortality, people tend to live life differently. They may focus more on helping other people as they want to be remembered well by those that love them. Of course, there’s a flip side where people aware of their death start to become more protective of themselves and lash out at anyone different from them. A big key to this is anxiety without any sense of reflection. The more anxious you are, the less reflective you become. Self-reflection isn’t something that’s taught very well to many people (and arguably a major reason why therapy exists).

Kusunoki starts to develop a sense of self-reflection when it comes to his past relationships. A big theme of this manga is relationships and how easy it is to lose them.

In the first chapter, there’s a flashback of Kusunoki and a girl he liked named Himeno. Both got along with each other during elementary school as they were smart and disliked by their classmates. They made a promise to get together as a couple after their ‘20s if they couldn’t find a partner by then. One of Kusunoki’s bucket list wishes was to reunite with Himeno, which Miyagi protests. Kusunoki wants to tell Himeno how he feels and goes through a makeover. The two do reunite out of chance, but their reunion turned out to be sour. It’s later revealed that Himeno was planning to kill herself in front of Kusunoki as she wrote him a letter back in high school asking for his help, but he never responded. This ties to how Kusunoki felt about life after school. He never kept in touch with his friends from those days due to him looking down on others.

However, Kusunoki’s connection to Miyagi becomes something more than observer and subject. They both fall in love with each other. Kusunoki wanted someone to acknowledge him even if the person may not always agree with his way of thinking. Miyagi later reveals that she lost a childhood friend like Kusunoki. She empathizes with Kusunoki because of their desire for closure involving their childhood friends. Plus Miyagi loved that Kusunoki made her feel important by dragging her around to do his activities with him.

When people talk about what it means to live, they think about factors involving only the self. Get a high-paying job, getting a nice house, buying a fancy car, etc. There’s no emphasis on helping someone in need, donating money to a good cause, having an enlightening conversation, and/or making someone’s day better. Stuff that involves being around other human beings that feel insecure as much as you do.

Speaking of human beings, Kusunoki’s connection with Miyagi makes him frowned upon by his local community members. That’s because Miyagi is literally invisible to other people. When he talks to her, other people see him as talking to air. They start to think he’s insane and/or delusional. Kusunoki doesn’t care since he’s accepted his circumstances. The fun part is near the end of the series is that his neighbors start to accept Miyagi is there with him. They start to feel more optimistic and happy because they see how happy Kusunoki is. He’s enjoying life more than they are.

It made me think about someone with a serious mental illness and has delusions. They are avoided because no one understands them. More often than not, they’re labeled as dangerous to talk to. But once you’re able to talk to them and not feed too much into their delusions, you start to find how lonely they are. You realize that they’re trying to live their lives as much as you are. You realize they want some kind of connection (there’s a movie about this which covers how the mentally ill may need some kind of community acceptance to manage life). I see this with Kusunoki finally getting love from his neighbors as he deep down wanted some kind of connection that makes his life meaningful after seeing how hollow he became without the lack of emotional support.

Kusunoki’s desire for meaningful connection can be reflective of how hard it is for adults to make friends/relationships of any kind as they get older. Asking someone to be friends feels “childish” as it doesn’t always lead to external outcomes that mark “success.” I read an article from someone who believes wanting friends in contexts outside of socializing is considered shameful. Kusunoki feels like an all-too-real example of someone who was taught that you can wing it with relationships since materialism will solve all your emotional needs.

The ending to the manga (and the original novel) isn’t exactly a happy one and it teaches some great lessons. Death comes for everyone at some point and all we can do is live life in a way that matters. However, we need acceptance of one another in order to do so. When you see how the relationship between Kusunoki and Miyagi blossomed until the end, it will make you wonder if what we really need in life is someone who’s willing to embrace our emotional vulnerabilities and continue to love us despite them. It may not be the ultimate solution, but it’s an important one to consider as there’s still am alarming amount of people who want to die because no one truly hears them.

If the world realizes how having an accepting person/community can lead to better outcomes, maybe we can go beyond just a few days of happiness into a lifetime of joy.

#Jumyou wo Kaitotte Moratta. Ichinen ni Tsuki Ichimanen de #Miyagi #Kusunoki #psychology of mortality #mental health #death #manga #I Sold My Lifespan for Ten Thousand Yen per Year #community #loneliness #friendship

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geek-fashionista · 4 years ago

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777

If you’ve been around since last year, you probably remember my job being a constant source of misery on account of terrible children, my being put on probation two months into the school year, and the ever-present dread of getting fired. (The whole reason I’m a substitute is because they didn’t trust me with my own class.)

Well. I had my big observation of the year last night, and today I sat down with my boss to talk about it.

She had no complaints. She liked everything I did, the way the classroom was set up, the visuals and questions I used to help the kids understand new words, the music I played to liven things up, and how well-planned the day was. She said she could tell how much I’d improved and asked me whether I was thinking of staying next year.

While internally I recovered from the shock, I told her I wanted to keep the sub job next year. She seemed surprised, and I explained I liked being the fun teacher who was loved and known by kids on both campuses. (I also love not having to lesson plan. And not being tied to one group of students all year.) I said I’d be willing to train new subs if we ever get any. But if it wasn’t possible to keep that position for unforeseen reasons, I would rather have a younger grade.

And then the topic shifted to the coworker I’ve been subbing for---the one who’s finally been released from the hospital after two months and multiple surgeries. Turns out the doctor is recommending they go back to America. “Would you be willing to take the class permanently?” my boss asked.

I considered it. The part of me still traumatized from last year screamed no. These are those same kids, after all, and they’d been driving my coworker insane before the illness happened. It’d be a nightmare come true.

However... it would be cruel to throw a brand new teacher into that classroom six months into the school year. It wouldn’t be fair to the children or their parents. And I know those kids. Every single one of them. I know their friend groups. I know their personalities. And as much as they drive me crazy, when I see them laughing hysterically like they were today, my cold and distant heart gets a little smirk on her face.

It’s funny to look back now and see how God was preparing me for this. From the start of the year, I was writing skits for fifth grade’s video lessons. I got to teach every grade and learn from a whole host of other teachers. My emotional wounds were healed by the love of the younger kids. My other coworker’s surgery was canceled so I got to spend an entire month teaching fifth grade instead.

And after an entire year of being made to feel like I wasn’t needed, God allowed me to prove just how needed I was.

As my friend said this afternoon, I get to rewrite the narrative now. I’ve been given a second chance to love these children unconditionally.

I hope I don’t let myself down.

#life #text

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antihero-writings · 4 years ago

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Blood and Mercury

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Fic Summary: Symptoms of mercury poisoning may include: irritability, excitability, delirium, insomnia, vivid dreams, depression, and suicidal tendency.

There must have been a lot of mercury in Break's past for him to show so many symptoms.

|| A modern AU about Break's past struggle with drug abuse and suicidal thoughts, and his current struggle with the Mad Hatter's illness, and how much of that struggle he should tell Sharon about.

Character Focus: Break

Notes: 1. Warning! This fic deals with topics of suicide and drug abuse. Everything is described very subtly and poetically, and it's not explicit, but it is about that. However, although it's heavy for the first part, there's some definite comic relief at the end if you can get that far!!

2. This is a modern AU. Not the reincarnation AU, an actual modern AU, where the plot of the series happens in modern time. (I mean, I guess it could be a reincarnation AU if actual events repeat themselves...but I don't think they do). So, in case it's not clear, Break's sick from his second contract with the Mad Hatter, just like in the series. Although I do like the idea that it's actually mercury poisoning.... a) I didn't even think about that until I'd already written it, b) coughing up blood and stuff isn't a symptom of it, and c) that's a really cool idea that I'd rather focus on and do justice in another fic. (Let me know if you'd be interested in reading that!!) The time frame for this is meant to be towards the end of the series--around the time Break was teaching Oz sword fighting.

3. I've always headcanoned Break (or more Kevin) as being suicidal because of the "So...you wanna die?" line. I don't know if the line was actually supposed to mean he was directly suicidal, or if it just meant he was depressed and not doing well, and/or just didn't care about his life, but that's how I've viewed it. And even if he was suicidal, I don't know that he ever attempted it. It could just be that he was suicidal inside but never did anything with those thoughts. Regardless, I do think he wanted to die in some fashion, and to me it makes his story more impactful (especially when he ends up wanting to live at the end), and relatable if he was actually suicidal. So I really wanted to play with that idea in at least one fic (though I'd enjoy playing with it in the context of the actual series too).(You don't have to read this part if you don't want to XD I just wanted to put it up front)

This fic was inspired by the song "Colors" by Halsey!

If you enjoy this fic, I'd really really appreciate if you could leave a comment!! Even the shortest comments can truly make my week, and motivate me to keep writing!!

Chapter 1: The Candy Shop

Collapsing. Blackness. Scratches in his lungs. And the taste of blood.

He never complained but his blood tasted like ash, and regret, and the blackness that overtook his sight was far from empty; an abyss, the memory of one, engulfed his world before he even felt the ground.

The last thing he had heard was Sharon shouting his name, and at Oz to get the medicine—and do so quickly. She didn’t say why, but they all knew it was because every second they wasted was a second he no longer had to spend.

Sharon’s voice, doused with pain. All that hurt and care, and thinly veiled tears, crammed into a few words. He’d never tell her, but he could care less about the wasted seconds, if only she would promise never to cry like that again.

He had collapsed this time. That wasn’t exactly abnormal, still, little by little, line by line, every little sign, he was getting worse.

“Don’t push yourself, Xerx.”

Reim would scold him for not listening.

And maybe Break would laugh, say some quip about how he worried too much, how he needed to let loose. Or maybe he’d say nothing at all. But they both knew—words or no—at some point, this would be all that was left; a few laughs, a drink or two, and the words Xerxes, don’t throw your life away.

What a fool he was.

With Sharon it was different. Different because she was young, and she didn’t understand, not fully, not enough. Or because she understood too much, and everyone pretended she didn’t. He didn’t like to entertain the thought, but maybe that included herself; maybe when she told them to get the medicine, she was telling herself it would work.

Which was the scarier thought; that she didn’t understand? Or that she understood completely, and pretended not to?

What about before? When she was a child laced in light. Was it worse then, or better?

She was younger—so, so young…had they really known each other so long? Was he really so old?…little girls shouldn’t be forced to deal with the broken shards of someone like him.

They might get cut on the pieces.

She didn’t know. She didn’t need to pretend. Still, they tried to hide his pain from her young impressionable brain. And this was not easy, nor fun, but neither were the tears and the questions.

That all but went out the window when the little girl found him, collapsed on the bathroom floor, along with the desperate spill bottle of pills, meant to override the circuits in his brain. Salt thrown over his shoulder.

For good luck on the other side.

Shelly’s face. No anger. No disappointment. That kindness was in Sharon’s smile too, now—and did this kindness mean more if she knew the truth? If he’d known the capacity of their smiles, would he not have tried it?

Sharon had led her mother to him—her voice was desperate, shouting, crying, back then too…some things never change—laying there on the floor, on a date with death and a bottle whiskey and cyanide. As if toasting to the thought We are born drinking from bottles, why not die that way too? Instead of throwing them away he had tried to throw away his life instead.

Bottle up his life, slap a label on it, set it on the shelf. You can take it down on special occasions. Sell it, throw it away, it doesn’t matter. Throw away his life with the very thing that was meant to heal it. Not many murder weapons were once medicine. An overdose on ineffective salvation.

Hadn’t wrote a note either. Hadn’t given them a reason, hadn’t detailed his pain, or plan for revenge.

Just tried to leave without a trace, and left too many.

And when he woke up and, to his chagrin, was still alive—no heaven or hell, just here on an earth that was both—she hadn’t scolded him…well, not at first. She hadn’t demanded to know what he was thinking, or tried to ingrain within him him how much they cared, and how terrible it would all be if this plan of his had worked. She had just smiled, and spoke softly. And later, when she cleaned him up, she had said…

It was always the same. The same now. Black and white and red all over. Sharon’s cries, instead of choking down all the pain, forcing herself not to feel, like he did, she took that pain on her tongue and let it spill out into the open air.

Maybe that was all she could do. Shout his name, and pray her words would pull him from the beyond the veil, and try to discern if there was such a thing as medicine after all. Maybe she wanted to feel useful, because just sitting here, waiting for the end to come and grab him with teeth and claws, was more than she could bear. And in some way he was grateful, because he’d rather she pretend she could save him, than see the real pity, the hopelessness in her eyes when she realized she couldn’t. When she realized the Red Queen and the Black King had her Mad Hatter after all, and she couldn’t break him out of their dungeon.

One day, he was sure, it would all become too similar to a snowy night long ago—a night dressed in black; black cloak, black coffins, black sky, and black around those red eyes, which his own became indistinguishable from too quickly. Maybe Sharon would even say those words too: Break, please don’t leave me, because he’d never had the guts to tell her what his past was made of. And then…he would do just that.

He’d rather have her believe the lie he might live than say to her face I’m going to die and nothing can stop it.

He wasn’t afraid to die. We all die at some point. Some sooner than others. Why should he get more time when he wasted so much of it? Save your breaths. Save your tears. Save your lives, not mine. We all lose the fight eventually. He had spent his whole life fighting, maybe just once he could go quietly into that goodnight; meet death as a friend. He didn’t deserve more time than anyone else.

He just…wanted a few more minutes awake. A snooze button on life. Five more minutes. Ten. Twenty. A year or two? There were a few more things he needed to do. He wasn’t going to let death take him down easy.

All that talk, and not-talk, of medicine and death led him here, today, with a prescription container in his hand, and an ache in his head.

He swung open the lid to the cabinet, a mirror hanging limply out, glinting in the cold fluorescent light.

Why do they put mirrors on medicine cabinets? Like you need a second look to tell you—Yep, I’m crazy— before you pop the little capsules in your mouth, which promise This will make things better. And you tell yourself plastic and paperwork, lab coats whitewashed as their promises wouldn’t lie.

He lifted the container to put it back in its proper place in the cabinet, but paused, letting it rest on the tip his fingers, sliding into place in his palm. His arm dropped back down, eyes scanning over the label, darting to the rest of the contents of the cabinet, as if staring down an old foe.

White ones, and blue ones, red ones, yellow ones…like some candy store for the sick, the insane, and the empty. It wasn’t just pills either; powders, and needles, and glass that breathes fumes into your lungs and brain; a delusion’s kiss, that makes everything just a little bit better, just a little bit funnier. Needles that, needless to say, could take you a real wonderland if you shoved them in far enough.

He’d tried them all at some point in his life. And when they didn’t work, the stash sat dormant in his closet, his drawers, cabinets like this one, while new-fangled solutions took their place. He didn’t throw them away—you never know when one day you might need to fly—like he was keeping illegal souvenirs of a worse world.

There are worse things than bottled happiness. And ‘happiness’ can do more damage than a decent amount of sorrow sometimes.

They smelled like walls that someone puked on at one point, but they painted over rather than clean up, and you could still tell by the smell something was wrong, closer to the woodwork. But they were too easy to keep contained; to not smell, to not taste, too easy not to realize what they were really made of.

He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a few hundred, maybe thousand or more, dollars* here staring back at him in hollow color. The amount of money they cost only comparable to their unending ingredient lists—full of the names of chemicals he couldn’t pronounce, and titles that he could, but wouldn’t waste breath on. He didn’t care about the money, or what they were made of, or the warnings of how much more damage they would cause—asking you to decide between your brain and your liver. All promising happiness, and not-perfect-just-better, and a decent night’s sleep.

He tried not to care about much.

None of them worked. Not for him at least.

And, no, that wasn’t an exaggeration. Wasn’t just an excuse to get more, or him not trying hard enough. There came a point when his body just wouldn’t respond to their signals.

There came a point when too much of him was already too dead to respond to anything but mad scientists, calling upon lightning storms in old abandoned castles. Besides, the Mad Hatter’s malady wasn’t exactly something an ordinary doctor could fix, or even name.

In truth, he could handle the physical aspects of it; the blood in his lungs, the passing out, and the loss of vision—which would be more than a temporary side effect before long. But there was something else—what do they call it? The soul? The heart? Something like that. He’d forgotten long ago. Those parts, that pain, was harder to take, to tolerate, and rotted the longer he stuffed it down. Like he was barricading the door to the monster’s lair with the bodies of those monsters that had gone before, and he knew full well none of them were quite dead.

There was an old picture on the countertop. A woman with hazelnut hair and a sunflower smile, a man in turquoise with a begonia eye, tragedy woven into the petals. And a little girl who thought flowers were bandages.

He picked it up, brushing the dust off their faces, trying to smile, though it was stained as his eye back then.

People need hope. They need this thing to tell them to keep going, it’s not over yet, not to give up. It’s like the glue to the gingerbread house that is you. When you don’t have it, your life kind of…falls flat. Like soda that’s been left out; no longer bubbly, no longer worth drinking. When someone doesn’t have it, it doesn’t mean they can’t live anymore, that life is undrinkable, it just means this thing we called living, once, doesn’t have the same carbonation.

But hope is a funny thing, elusive, reclusive, and volatile. Picky about the things it can eat. Difficult to keep alive.

That’s why this candy store was so full, what its stockers promised to fix, to feed; that beast, hope. That’s what the dealers promised they could provide; something they all knew couldn’t be borrowed, or bartered, or manufactured.

Hope’s not something that can be bottled. We’re all like children, unaware fireflies, those pretty blinking lights, will die without air.

He set the picture back down, turning his gaze to the container still in his other hand.

The only reason he kept using them was for them. For Sharon, Sheryl, and Reim. For Oz and Gilbert, and the rest. As long as it didn’t hurt, or make it worse, if it gave them hope—(a hope he could never have)—for him to take the medicine, he’d do it.

Sheryl had been the one to suggest the medicinal path in the first place. It made sense; she had dealt with this sort of thing before. Shelly had been sickly all her life, and medicine helped—(Helped. Didn’t save her life. And Shelly would have argued she didn’t need it either, and had often refused them herself). But this wasn’t the same. This was deeper than skin or bone. Still, she was kind, and he respected her—or he came to…not to mention he didn’t want to cross her.

Reim had agreed; regiments and tangible, scientific solutions appealed to his personality. He liked when things were concrete, it was more promising to him than whimsy, and words.

They had yet to learn of the concrete things that were tea and sugar, which work a lot better at lifting the spirit than things you aren’t supposed to taste.

Life is about tasting. About watching, and listening, and really feeling. Life is about living. Not swallowing and trying not to taste. Not existing and trying not to live.

It was Shelley who had told him that. She had let them try out their methods, but she told him if he didn’t want them to work, that they wouldn’t. That he could try them, but they were useless without resolve to go with them. She told him that the ones the doctors give are from a factory, made of greed, and half-baked promises that rubbed too close to lies. Not belief, and real promises, and laughter—(which is, of course, the best medicine). And even the ones they don’t give you are too strong to grant you something you can call life. That maybe he oughtta just throw them away after all.

She told him a smile and a day in the sun was all he really needed. That they can’t bottle and sell hope and sunshine. That you can’t pull life out of death, and hope needs to come from something alive—from something free of charge, flickering in the air, that can’t be put in a jar, or tamed. She pointed to his chest and said that hope hails from there. The last thing in the box is always hope, you just have to really empty out the rest of the crap in the box first.

Shelly wasn’t someone you could hide these sorts of things from. She had this sixth sense; she could speak with the already-dead. One way or another, she’d find out—(even if she had to wring it out of you). But instead of sending you to the doctor, telling you that something was wrong with you, that you were crazy, she would smile. Like all you needed were a few kind words, and she’d send you back into the world, heart humming. She could be unbearably compassionate. When she talked about happiness, it was like she was speaking of an old friend of hers. She’d say that it doesn’t come in shots or smoke, it was more elusive, and can be found in a kind gesture, at amusement parks, and in sunsets, in a really good cup of tea, or a homemade cookie.

And when she’d cleaned him up, after finding him on the bathroom floor, she’d said:

“So, you want to die?”

Did he? Did he really want to die? Or was it something else? Something darker? something brighter?

He wanted to sleep. To rest. He knew that much. His sleep was always interrupted and irregular, and he had forgotten what real rest entailed.

Knives and blades rested comfortably in his hands, but he had broken the skin too often, of too many others, for it to provide any semblance of relief when used on himself. Besides, he didn’t want to die naked in a bathtub painted red. He didn’t want to lay in a coffin with stitches on his neck and flowers growing out of his wrists. He didn’t want the world to find him hanging from the ceiling like a criminal in town square. He didn’t want scars to tell his secrets, or his death to show him weak. Very little about his life had been elegant or dignified. So he wanted to die, at least, softly, with some measure of dignity. Make some music out of the cacophony. Without a scratch, or a word, or a second to spare. Something subtler would be his weapon of choice: the prick of needle, the taste of poison, the promise of happiness in a bottle—just enough happy to kill you.

Because that’s how it was, then—during that time when they had found him on the bathroom floor. That desire wasn’t flashy and boisterous. It wasn’t the rich smell of steel and iron, it was more insidious; the smallest pinprick of the soul, or something he may have swallowed at one time or another, that withered his insides slowly. It wasn’t something to parade around, or cry out to the town, and it wasn’t something he needed them to rescue him from. It was just there, nagging at the back of his heart, like a sore soul.

He didn’t cut, and he wouldn’t bruise or burn, and he wouldn’t ask for their help, or tell them a thing either.

His cries were veiled, veiled behind those times he shouted at them, or insulted them, even now still veiled behind his jokes. It wasn’t obvious. The pain was a shadow behind his words and actions, a demon behind him at all hours.

Back then, there had been days when he wouldn’t move from that windowsill, unless Shelly shoved him off.

Sometimes he felt like a shadow himself when he was around the living—like he wasn’t really there. Already dead, an imprint, a faded image of some past, some distant version of a self who may or may not have existed. He couldn’t share their happiness, or even their grief, because he wasn’t a real thing, here, now. He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here, with a new young mistress, a doll with his old mistress’s name, and a heart full of regrets. I mean, really, shouldn’t. Time had bent for him, and he feared the bends were becoming breaks.

“You wish to die…so you do not suffer anymore. You simply want to save yourself.”

Was that true? Was this not about death, or even rest, but about…salvation?

He wanted to live. And that’s why he tried so hard to die.

Sharon, Reim, Sheryl, Shelly, and…Oz.

He ran his hand through his hair, grimacing at the thought of Oz seeing all this. Sharon had assigned him the task of medicine-caddy after all. He imagined the boy saying to himself What does Break need all these for? Then backtracking in his mind Oh, right, which would either be followed by, Oh, right, he’s crazy or Oh, right, he said he wouldn’t last the year and take an extra few moments to find the right ones before running back.

Usually Reim was the one to do this. Reim knew about the whole not-working thing. He had told him to stop taking them, to tell Sharon that they didn’t work. To stop pretending they did, that he’d never know what more damage they were doing to his body by taking them. But he also didn’t force him to tell the truth. Perhaps protecting Sharon was for the best. They were like her older brothers—a little too protective at times. Neither of them wanted to see her cry.

He didn’t usually let anyone besides Reim look in this cabinet—best not let the world in on his little secret candy shop—but he hadn’t had his medicine on him at the moment he fell, and Reim had been busy running errands for the bird-brained duke at the time.

He tossed the still-full container into the trash, where it gave a satisfying swish and clang as it tumbled into bottom.

Such a simple action. Why had it taken him so long?

He should have listened to her earlier.

He rested his hands on the sink, closed his eyes again, blowing out a breath.

The yellow pills don’t contain happiness, in as much as the red ones don’t contain anger, or the blue ones sadness. The red pill and the blue pill don’t sit in the hands of the god of dreams, asking you if you want to wake up. We may be made out of dust, but some dust in a capsule can’t patch the rips in our souls.

Can’t fix the hole where his eye is meant to be. Can’t undo the brand on his chest.

Doctors can sew back the skin, but they don’t know how to stitch together a ripped mind. They try, they think they can plug the hole up. But you can’t come to them with the broken shards of your heart and say Hey doc, can I get a new one?. You can’t walk in with a messed-up mind and say Clean it for me, will ya?

There was nothing they could do about his eye, except give him one made of glass, and he had enough broken shards in his brain, and enough falsity in his smile. And they couldn’t rewind the clock burned on his chest. His time had already reached zero, so it made sense he was dying.

He could handle being broken, being Break. In fact, a little penance could do some good. He’d could handle pain.

It was the memories he wanted to tear to shreds and return to sender. But he was not granted the grace of amnesia, unlike little girls named Alice. Just bad dreams, and reminders on his broken body telling him he was less than worthless.

He didn’t want to go to the doctor, especially not a psychiatrist. And Shelly wouldn’t have made him go, until faced with Sharon’s eyes, blurred with tears, asking when he was going to get better.

He didn’t need a shrink to know he was crazy. What would he talk about anyway?

Well, let’s see here, I’ve killed a hundred and sixteen people, so that might be weighing on my conscience a bit.

Why? Because a demon told me I could change the past. To tell you the truth, I could, and I did, but you know what demons don’t tell you? You can change the past, but that change may mean the difference from bad to worse. I made it worse. And in my version of events; the changed past I sought so desperately, that one little girl who survived ended up feeding her family to another demon to save her sister, in the same way I wanted to save them.

I wasn’t there to stop her. And I know she failed. I am what success looks like.

And it’s my fault she’s dead. I killed her. I killed her. I killed that little girl—

Yeah, no diagnosis necessary.

Sometimes he wished he could be diagnosed with something normal. That they could say he had a disease, or a parasite that was slowly eating at his mind. But this wasn’t something that could be found in text books. It was closer to magic—things from the Abyss are not for doctors to diagnose. The blood he coughed up wasn’t from a disease, or pent up abuse or torture, it was something more mysterious; contracts, and scars, and mirrors. It’s not quite the same as an illness, not something they can just cure. They couldn’t explain the whole some of us-don’t-age-anymore thing, why would they be able to explain the blood, and the coughs and the dying just because it was more serious? There weren’t exactly Chain doctors. There are just doctors and either it’s in the books or it isn’t. And even if there were, it wasn’t exactly common for an illegal contractor to survive their trip the Abyss.

Besides, he didn’t ask for help, not even from those close to him, so why would he ask a doctor?

It was easier that way. It was easier to say it didn’t matter, easier to disappear, than to admit that he cared.

So the one time he did go to the whitewashed walls he told them something, some story that was only half based on a movie he’d seen, and they sent him away with a note to the one who bottled the happiness.

And that’s just the explanation for the prescribed ones.

The rest fit under the motto ‘Well, if you can’t beat the crazy, might as well join it.’ And those were the kind Shelly especially wanted him to throw away.

Crazy. Mad. Mad Hatter.

They say hatters used to go mad because their glue contained mercury, and the fumes polluted their brains. A mad hatter, with stitched up hands, ash-white skin, smoky eyes and a mercury turned brain…yeah, that sounded just about right.

If hope is life’s glue, then his contained mercury.

He looked up into the mirror, tilting his head to the side, and smiling wryly to himself at the thought;

There must have been a lot of mercury in his past for him to go this mad.

One day, they all stopped working. Like when he found out he couldn’t get drunk anymore. Two kinds of poisons, no longer effective, because he was already dying. No matter prescribed or uninscribed. Maybe that’s how it was with mercury poisoning; one day cures just stop curing, time stops ticking, hearts stop yearning.

Too crazy. Not crazy enough. And nothing works either way anymore. Maybe she was right, and he just throw them all away.

“Hey!”

Break started, turning to see Oz standing in the doorway.

“What’s up?” Oz leaned into the room, trying to catch a glimpse of the contents of the cabinet.

“That depends on if you’re sitting on the floor or the ceiling!” Emily sang.

Oz was used to his absurdity by now, and ignored it; “I was going to ask,”—he bounced on his tiptoes like a curious three-year-old—“what’s that green turd?”

Break tried not to laugh at his naiveté, and folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the cabinet, shutting it with his body.

“Sorry, Oz-kun,”—he smirked—“but there isn’t any children’s medicine in here, you’ll have to check elsewhere.”

Oz glared at him. He was known for being a pain in the ass…but Oz was known for being one too.

“Is it pot?” Oz continued his line of questioning, smiling like the cheeky brat he was…according to Break at least.

Break’s own smirk faltered, not realizing he was asking out of understanding rather than ignorance.

“I’ve always wanted to try it,” Oz mused out loud.

“Is that so?” The smirk was back on stage.

“Yeah!” He bounced on his toes again. “Seems like fun!”

“You know Gilbert-kun just might just kill you if he found out.” He said it like that would be a good show for a Saturday afternoon.

“You’re not gonna tell him, are you?” Oz pouted, his eyes narrowing.

“That depends.”

“On what?” Oz grunted.

“Maybe you and I could come to an agreement.” He inclined his head towards the cabinet.

“What’s there for me to tell? Are you upset I saw inside there?” He pointed with his thumb to the medicine cabinet. “It might be a little weird, but it’s not my place to judge…Honestly if you’re taking all that, it explains a lot.”

Break snickered. “You think too highly of yourself, Oz-kun; if I were upset, that would imply I care what you think.”

“Whatever.” Oz smiled; he had enough insanity of his own. “I know you love me.”

“Oh sure, the way a farmer loves the cute little rabbits eating his crops.”

Oz made to leave, but before he exited he spun in an attempt to get at the cabinet. In a flash, Break grabbed the broom from the corner, and tripped him with the end, sending him to the floor.

“Ow,” Oz rubbed at his head, which he had knocked against the doorframe.

Break didn’t apologize.

“You’ve been skimping on our lessons.” Break leaned on the broom.

“Why do I have to learn sword-fighting anyway? …It’s like you’re from another century”

“My, my.” He twirled it around so the end was at his pupil’s throat. “Just last week you were saying how excited you were to learn.”

“That was before I realized ‘go easy on him’ doesn’t register in your brain.”

“How else are you supposed to learn~?” Oz sat up, pushing the makeshift sword away from him.

He paused a moment before asking,

“They don’t work, do they?”

Break’s eye widened for a split second. He followed Oz’s emerald gaze to the medicine cabinet.

He gritted his teeth. “Cheeky little brat.”

Oz put on a sad but proud smile. “I knew it.”

“You really aren’t cute at all,” Break muttered under his breath.

“Does Sharon-chan know?”

Break looked away, pretending like he hadn’t heard the question.

“Why don’t you just tell her?”

Break laughed. “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I made my lady worry?”

“Come on, seriously. I mean, what good does letting her believe they work do?”

“There’s good to be found in even the strangest of situations.” Emily twittered.

“I’ll watch the twelve o’clock special later, thanks.”

“He doesn’t want to make her cry,” another voice broke in.

They looked up to see Reim in the doorway.

“Oh, Reim-san~! And we were just getting used to your absence!” Break joked.

Reim’s hand clenched into a fist.

“Spare me the pleasantries.”

Reim walked in to help Oz up, giving Break a reproachful look before saying, “I hope he isn’t causing you too much trouble.”

“Always. But I can handle myself. He’s just mad a saw inside his medicine cabinet.”

“Ah, yes, his little ‘candy shop.’ I have been telling him to just tell Sharon, and throw them out, for years.”

“Years? Break, you should really throw those out! Why don’t we help you?”

Break looked away. “Tch. You really think I need help from the likes of you?”

Oz got a mischievous look. “What if I tell her myself?”

“Then I’ll tell Gilbert-kun you want to take up smoking weed~?”

“Oz-sama!” Reim’s grabbed Oz by the shoulders. “You want to start smoking drugs?!” He shook him, before spinning him to Break as if presenting him. “Xerxes this is exactly the reason I tell you to throw them out! You’re polluting the young lord’s mind!” He shook Oz more.

“Eh.” Oz shrugged. “My mind was plenty polluted already.”

Before Reim could react to that, Break spoke,

“See?” Break put his hands behind his back and stepped up to Oz, leaning down so he was eye level. “That’s the mild version of the lecture Gilbert-kun would give you.”

Oz sighed managing to break free of Reim.

“Come on,” he spoke to Break, returning to the previous subject. “Do you really need to keep taking them if they don’t do anything? Seems like a waste of time and money if you ask me.”

“That’s what I keep telling him!”

“You should just tell Sharon-chan. She’s stronger than you think. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Well, boys,” Break patted them on the shoulders as he walked by, “not that this isn’t fun, but I have some serious work to catch up on.”

“You’re going to play video games again aren’t you?” Reim crossed his arms.

“Break!” Oz called.

Break sighed, eyes lidding, before turning to Oz.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

“He’s not alone!” Emily chittered, “he has me!”

Oz rolled his eyes, and Reim facepalmed.

******

Notes Cont.:

*I know this probably wouldn't be "dollars", but a) I don't remember them mentioning the name of their currency in the series, b) a more generic word like "money" didn't fit the sentence, and, c) as an American, something like "euros" (which, while probably closer to the correct term) didn't sound as natural to me.

I don't know if anyone will believe me, but I actually wrote this a VERY long time ago. I started it sometime around July 2018, before/right when I started posting my writing online. It was one of my very first PH fics, and has even informed some fics I've posted--(I got the name "Black and White and Red All Over" for my halloween fic last year from this fic. Well, I got it from the joke/expression, but this fic is what tied that phrase to Break in my mind). I would periodically work on it over the years, and I really enjoy the language, so it was fun to continually return to it.

The first part has been postable for a long time, the problem has always been the end. Lately I've been going through my old fics and making myself post them even if they're not perfect. Usually the way to do that is just to break them up earlier than I wanted to. I really wanted to add a heartfelt ending to this fic (still do!) but for some reason I had the toughest time transitioning to more of an actual scene at the end and actually writing it, so it ended up just getting stuck on my computer. The other issue is that I have zero experience with drug abuse, so I think I just felt like I was describing things wrong and got cold feet about posting it. If I got anything wrong, please kindly let me know!

Do you think I should write out the memory of Break’s suicide attempt in ch2? I kind of wanted to actually write it out but I wasn’t sure if it’d be too heavy...

Oz and Break's relationship is actually one of my favorites in the series, and I absolutely adore writing for it...but it seems I have trouble doing so. I have one more Break and Oz fic that I absolutely adore that's been stuck on my computer for about the same amount as time as this one, that I also got stuck on the middle/end. (I actually might have written it before this one, as I recognize some similarities XD) Hopefully I can break it up and post it soon too!

Thanks for reading!! Once again, if you could leave a comment, it would mean more to me than you know!!

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skamamoroma · 5 years ago

Note

Meg, always kinda wanted to ask....what’s your opinion on the actress who plays Sana in SkamIt not being Muslim?

This is the only post I’ll make on the issue ❤️

Skam is all about providing hope regardless of the issue or story. It is about giving the viewer an experience, giving them a close insight into a person person so that they can understand their story and provide hope.

Representation matters. A lot. It gives people a sense of belonging, of being seen and valued and appreciated and, above all, gives them a role model. It also teaches people who are not from that “minority” (for want of a better word) a new viewpoint and it can educate. It’s wonderful.

I am not a Muslim. I am not a POC. I have no religion at all. I will never understand what it is to be either. I have friends who are one or both so I have some knowledge of some issues my friends face from a closer perspective but I am absolutely never going to know what it is to experience life as a religious (and obviously religious) person or a person of colour.

My opinion matters here as much as anyone’s who is a non-Muslim non POC, aka only so far. The same way as I identify with the LGBT+ storylines, if someone none LGBT+ were to weigh in and say something about stuff they have no personal experience or knowledge of them that’s not at all helpful but if they have general comments about the storyline or the character or the behaviours then awesome! That’s a viewer 😊 that’s what you’re meant to do. But I am not going to devalue or overpower the opinion of someone who is a Muslim POC because their voice on these things deserves to be heard.

Having a Muslim person play a Muslim role is undoubtedly going to be a wonderful thing. Iman brought so much to her role. She gave understanding and depth and I believe even offered Julie tips and info. That’s special. That’s a community being represented by someone who gets it. She received a LOT of backlash for playing Sana from her own community and the guts that took. I imagine she realised the good a character like Sana could and was doing. Do you need to be a Muslim to play a Muslim role? The same way you don’t need to be gay to play the role of a gay teenager or you don’t have to have a mental illness to play someone with bipolar etc etc etc. There’s no requirement there but sometimes things more nuanced than that. Sometimes the need to further a cause is perhaps a bigger one and I absolutely see the value in a real, young Muslim girl playing that role and I can see how the impact can be felt as I’ve been in this fandom a long time.

Italy as a country needs Skam. Many countries need it but Italy’s political landscape is tricky and I have listened to Italian friends and lovely Italian folks on here who have expressed how needed an Italian s3 (Marti) and s4 (Bea) is. I have had Italian Muslims message me to tell me they’re thrilled Sana’s season is even a thing in their country. They have told me that they see that things are different there than in other countries who have Skam. They have commented that they themselves are a white Muslim and feel like Sana looks like they do in their country as they are hijab wearers too. This too can not be discounted. Political landscapes DO impact media and fiction because perhaps sometimes there is even more nuance at play. Perhaps sometimes there is stuff that people in other countries do not have to think about and perhaps to have a tv season shown and understood and accepted some things have to be a little different. These are things I have been told by Italian Muslims.

I am not a fan of how the issue has been handled. Besse is a tricky dude. He’s not subtle and he’s not someone who easily handles criticism even if it is constructive. He does handle it but he also makes snap reactions and it ain’t helpful. But he also cares a great deal. Julie Andem has said he’s the main producer to contact her and discuss, he has taken months to get to know and to understand Muslim youth in Italy, he cares about the show and characters on an immeasurable level, even going so far as to single handedly try to do the social media for s3 himself because they were having so many issues with Timvision. This is a man who gives a shit. He isn’t always right and sometimes goes about stuff in an less than ideal way but he gives a shit and I have respect for anyone who does.

This whole “no other Muslims came to casting”. I don’t know how true or untrue that is. I am sure there are many young talented Muslim or POC actresses in Italy but how am I to comment if that statement is true or not. I wasn’t there. Perhaps a little more insistence could have been had to find someone else?

Beatrice got the role. She’s a young actress, young lady and this is a huge acting gig. She is also perhaps lacking in education a little. Should she be ridiculed, put on the spot, forced to answer complex questions at the drop of a hat and expected to be a walking Wikipedia of social matters? Should she be ganged up on or singled out and made to feel less worthy? Should she be treated poorly and with contempt? Absolutely fucking not. She’s a human. She’s a young female in a complex industry that doesn’t tend to treat women all that well. She has emotions and feelings and a heart and is a person. Education and kindness and explanations are the way to handle stuff like this not sarcasm and vitriol and chastising. I get that anger is a thing people who are marginalised feel because I have felt it myself, I understand that those in the Muslim community understand a level of marginalisation that nobody who is outside if that community can possibly understand and I would never try to speak for the anger they should and shouldn’t be allowed to feel but I’m talking about a fellow human and a show that advocates hope and kindness and comfort and acceptance. Treating her like shit isn’t ok, it isn’t what Skam is about and it isn’t nice on a very basic human level.

The season is going ahead. Besse has done a lot of research and committed himself to making this season happen. He has spoken about how much he loves and respects the season’s issues and has made it clear how much he fought for it to be a thing in the first place. This isn’t a show runner who doesn’t care but it doesn’t mean he can’t be criticised still.

My view is that this would be a wonderful chance for a young Muslim POC to play a role that represents her. To embody a character that other young POC Muslims (or even not POC because white Muslims do exist) can look up to, to be a role model, to represent her community. That can only ever be a truly special thing and Iman did a magical job as have other actresses playing Sana. I wish that the casting directors and show runner had insisted on this.

But I do not want to discount the immense good that a Sana season could do in modern day Italy. I don’t want to suggest that I understand the decisions behind the scenes. I don’t want to speak for white Muslims living in Italy. I don’t want to speak against Muslim Italians who have commented how much Sana’s season will mean to them in their political landscape.

I love Skam Italia. I think it’s a wonderful show. I cherish so much of it. No show is perfect. No remake of Skam is perfect. No actor or actress is an immediate social justice warrior with all of the complex sensitive knowledge at their finger tips to spout forth in a speech to end social issues. I care about people giving a shit and I care about kindness and this cast do as do many of the other Skam casts. This show is precious and useful and unique and it also is made and shown in countries with their own political, social, historic landscapes that people from outside those countries do not understand and that should always be remembered too.

This is not an easy topic and I think anyone who is POC and or Muslim has a right to express opinion and those opinions should be listened to but the way with all of this is with kindness not hatred. I don’t tolerate poor treatment of people. We live in a modern time where being wrong is apparently nowadays a cause of bloody abuse and that’s insanity. Debate is important as is talking to understand. Sometimes there is a place for anger and righteousness and yes I’d absolutely agree that it can be used in a valuable way and especially minorities have no requirement to educate or spend their time being kind to people who are racist or homophobic or prejudice in any way... but where there is misunderstanding or perhaps debate to be had and where stuff concerns well meaning people who maybe need to understand another viewpoint etc etc etc, I’d advocate for kindness and education over anything.

So these are my feelings on the issue. I will watch Sana’s season and I’ll be absolutely willing to be constructively critical, as always. I will also listen to those who are Muslim and Italian about how they feel about the season. I am also watching significantly for other characters too. I love a lot of the general s4 storyline and loved Sana a great deal. By me watching the season, it does not mean I am not critical of some of the decisions made. I choose, in the circumstances we are in, to give it a chance and to appreciate the good it can still do.

I don’t want to have a mass debate on this topic. There are people better places to have that debate and I’m not one of them. Please be kind and respectful and listen, that would be my advice ❤️

#skam italia #thoughts etc #SORRY I CANT GET THE READ MORE TO WORK #long post #skam italia season 4 #i wont answer any more asks on this as i dont think its helpful

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lunarbranded · 6 years ago

Note

🍵+ gatekeeping

Send 🍵for the mun’s salt! || Meme

gate·keep·ing: noun - the activity of controlling, and usually limiting, general access to something.Tumblr definition: when someone takes it upon themselves to decide who has access to something .

Boy, you know. I’ve been mulling over how I was gonna work with this ask and how to do this post for a while. Actually had the words a few times that I wanted to use but I waited and thought on it. As it turns out, there’s a lot I want to touch upon with my salt in this post. Most of it is general toxic behavior from the RPC community itself and some of fandom but, for the most part, it’s Tumblr bullshit to the extreme.

If you don’t want to see strong af opinions, please keep scrolling. The salt will be under the cut and I understand that most of what I’ll be saying in this post will not be popular opinions.

Gatekeeping Is A Form of Bullying

Ever heard some dudebro go ‘I bet she hasn’t even read the comics’ about a girl wearing a Marvel shirt? What about someone going ‘If you don’t read the books, you’re not a real fan’ when someone’s in line at the theater? Yeah, those are examples of gatekeeping. A couple of the most common ones actually.

As for Tumblr RPC gatekeeping, it’s a bit more like this:

Omg, you can’t write that because it doesn’t fit into what I believe is the only lore that ever exists

wtf why are you claiming that character is gay/trans/bi/ect? they’re not or it would be mentioned in canon

how dare you want representation for your gender identity/race/ect., that’s not okay because it doesn’t adhere to CANON

you can’t ship that because it’s morally wrong and i don’t like it (which sounds a lot like old church people bitching about anything at all really)

if you don’t have the right aesthetic then i won’t follow/interact with you at all

These are just a few examples but most of them are pretty common. And, you know, that’s sad as fuck, to be honest. So many people I’ve met on this side claim to have been bullied but they’re usually the same people who turn around and do this shit to others. It’s unreal to me that they don’t recognize their own behavior. What’s worse is that it can’t be pointed out or people want to use whatever buzzword they can to tell you to fuck off.

If you try to help correct someone, suddenly you’re every -phobic on the planet and you conveniently managed to set their grandmother on fire. The dramatic overreactions of some people have a price and they don’t realize that the emotional response is sometimes not the correct one.

Just because someone is doing something you don’t like doesn’t mean that it deserves a negative action on your part.

‘That person upset me so I’m gonna post a callout/vague post about them!’ Why do you guys think that literally fucking everything needs a reaction? It doesn’t. You don’t have to react to everything that happens. Sometimes things warrant a simple ‘oh that’s fucked up’ and then you move on with your fucking day.

Say you have thirty water bottles. Someone steals one and drinks out of it or whatever but you still have twenty-nine water bottles - why the fuck are you going to be angry all day about that one water bottle? What’s the point when you have twenty-nine other water bottles and you can forget about or throw away the one that was ruined/taken?

You see, that reaction is how you guys act about any one instance that goes wrong on Tumblr except you’re pissed off for a week and you want to ruin someone’s fucking life over a post/thread that you don’t like. Or, in extreme cases, you open blogs to run your mouth at these people. It takes more effort to act like a dick toward someone than it does to just keep fucking scrolling and it’s astounding how ready people are here to wallow in negativity/toxicity.

Puritan Ship/Roleplay Policing

So I mentioned it before, but there’s this super popular idea on Tumblr that if you don’t abide by a certain unspoken ship/roleplay guideline, people will tear you apart over it. But guess what, guys, it’s fucking bullshit.

Since when were people not allowed to make their own opinions on what they did or didn’t ship?

When did it start that people were considered trash for shipping something?

Who the hell made half of you the owners of the RPC so you think you can control what everyone does on their blogs?

You see, this is the same attitude that I see all the time in churches. Oh they’ll tell you to your face that you’re welcome to do as you like and come looking however you want but the second you actually fucking do it, you’re ignored and treated like a social pariah. All this because people love to go around spreading rumors and talking shit about one another all over a fucking hobby.

It’s actually kind of insane when you think about it. Like, you’re arguing over what two people are doing when they’re throwing internet Barbies at one another and you’re stomping across the playground to scream at them because you don’t like what they’re doing when it has nothing to fucking do with you. Remember what we called that in elementary and high school? Oh yeah, there’s a word for it: BULLYING. And now, it’s evolved into gatekeeping.

This attitude is literally as bad as someone going ‘you can’t sit with us’ just because you don’t like what they’re doing on their blog.

Now, I called this section ‘puritan’ for a reason - “practicing or affecting strict religious or moral behavior.” Does that sound familiar? Because it should. Tumblr wants to call everything wrong and, from what I’ve seen, the hivemind doesn’t want people making their own opinions. Oh and don’t forget, if you don’t already know something then tough fucking luck because it’s ‘not our job to teach you.’ Thanks for the reminder, Susan, but we all know that you’re going to resort to calling people toxic abusers just because they weren’t given the chance to learn something like you were. Because that’s a fucking great way to help people to understand things from your point of view.

Look. What I’m saying is that trying to force everyone into your moral alignment isn’t okay. Some people will write murder and abusive relationships and not romanticize them just fine. The same goes for incest, rape, dysphoria, and a great number of other things. Believe it or not, some RPers actually take the time to look this shit up so they can make sure that they’re doing it fucking right and avoiding romanticization. You know, what you people want them to do but yell at them when you see it trigger tagged without bothering to take a look at the entire thread in question. Goes right back to that knee jerk reaction people like to rely on - not everything is the end of the world.

Callout/Cancelled Culture

This one’s going to be fun.

So we all know that people love their callouts but we also know that people just fucking love cancelling people. Guess what though - you cannot cancel a fucking human being because they’re not a television show. Shocker right? I know.

Now, I’ll admit that there’s some callout worthy topics but there’s some callouts that are so goddamn stupid that I just can’t take either party seriously. Now Tumblr loves dividing people, especially in the RPC. Don’t fucking tell me that cliques aren’t a thing in the RPC because ‘RPing in your bubbble’ is the same as having a clique. It’s the same concept hidden behind another name, don’t try to tell me otherwise.

And yes, sometimes people want to run around and start ‘clique wars’ like it’s fucking high school all over again. Sorry, but no one has time for that shit. Do your replies and keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong, Barbara. But, of course, people have trouble with this concept and get into fights. It’s natural that no two people are going to agree on the same goddamn thing. It would be ridiculous to expect this, especially on this website, but just because you disagree with someone doesn’t mean that they’re cancelled.

What you think is problematic and what someone else thinks is problematic are likely two different things. And sure, you’ll have people who agree with you and you’ll want them on your side but that doesn’t help because now you’ve created that divide. So things fester and get worse because you want to use your mental illness as an excuse (a popular choice from what I’ve seen) as to why you can’t communicate with someone. Next thing you know, there’s a huge callout against someone and that person didn’t expect it at all.

Knee jerk reactions. Fight gets worse. Divide gets bigger. Toxicity festers.

Well now, there’s this new thing in the RPC where you can get a PSD template and fake fucking screenshots. Sure, it’s for musings and character profiles for things like Tinder, Facebook, ect. Just fun little things for you to throw your characters into and stuff like that. But there’s always that 1% who decide to use it so they can make it look like someone’s said something when they haven’t. So, when that person tries to defend themselves with a full-screen shot of their own (whole desktop or mobile version), things get worse until there’s a giant blowout.

Once the dust settles you get this nice little ‘if you follow x, y, z then you can just block me bye’ behavior popping up. Well, that’s just childish. Unless something happened that was almost a ‘they found out where i live and they’re sending me glass filled cookies in the mail’ situation, then I have no reason to bother with that shit in your rules page. No one is obligated to tell you who they associate with just because you had a disagreement with them. However, if that person chooses to take your side, that’s up to them.

I’m sure damn near everyone has had a similar situation to this happen to them on Tumblr before and, if it hasn’t, were you the one making the call out? If you were, was it worth it? Did it make you feel better? Sure, it might have in the moment but if you’re having that much of an issue actually communicating with others then you should take a step back and work on yourself before you involve other people. It’s like that one saying I keep seeing running around ‘if bad things always happen to you, you should make sure that you’re not the one causing it.’

Now, that’s not to say that I’m trying to gaslight anyone, but 9 times out of 10, I’ve looked back and realized that my own knee jerk reactions have caused a lot of turmoil that I could have avoided had I stopped and thought on it. I’ll admit that because guess fucking what, humans aren’t perfect.

That’s the biggest issue on Tumblr. Half of you expect people to come on here and be perfect from the get go but humans make fucking mistakes and we learn from them. Do we not? How many of you can say that you were perfectly rational and amazing 15 year olds? Absolutely no one because teenagers have a lot of stress and expectations thrown on them while they’re going through a rough growth phase at that time. Things are unpredictable for them and they have school, teachers, friends, and parents throwing all of this shit onto them and then they come on here and have full-grown fucking adults slamming all this shit into their faces. It’s fucking ridiculous. And that’s another goddamn topic holy shit. The way some adults on here act is absolutely barbaric.

Sharing IP Addresses Out of Revenge/Anger

Oh this is something I’ve hated since I found out that Statcounter was a thing. Yes, I run it on my own blog but you’ll never see me sharing IP addresses on the dash. I’ll just quietly IP block you and go about my day, idgaf.

So there’s this huge trend and I’ve seen this on my own dash before (it was fucking disgusting, the response was atrocious on that person’s behalf, and I’ve since hardblocked) and it’s something I’ll hardblock over in a heartbeat.

Now, for those who don’t know, Statcounter has a little piece of code that you can put into your blog theme and it’ll track the IP addresses of people who visit your blog. For me, I use it because I’ve had two stalkers in the past and yes, I keep screenshots of their visits for my own records. Fuck them. First one started the trigger for me and the second one recently exacerbated it. Anyway, if the person doesn’t have something on their browser to block it, Statcounter will pick up on their visit, what links they look at, how long they’ve been looking, their ISP, general location (never their precise home location, just the ISP’s area), browser info, and screen resolution. I’m sure there’s more but that’s all I recall for now.

Having it so you can protect yourself from stalkers is one thing but having it and using it to throw someone’s IP out there is another. When I say that people weaponize Statcounter, I’m not joking. People will go on there after getting what they believe is anon hate and see who the move recent /ask visitor was and start blasting their IP all over the place.

For one thing - people can send asks via the dash. They don’t have to click onto your page at all so, there’s a HUGE risk of throwing out an innocent person’s IP address.

Say someone does this - mistakenly throws out an innocent person’s IP after receiving anon hate. That person is likely going to have a panic attack. Not only have you shared their state and general location but you’ve blamed them for something they didn’t do. Throwing that IP out there, to any fucking extent can create a witch hunt for anyone who has Statcounter to try to figure out who the owner of that IP is.

This is related to gatekeeping because you’re essentially blacklisting anyone who lives in that state/general area from the RPC all because you saw they were in the /ask page. How fucked up is that? It ties right back to the knee jerk response and it shows that people given even a modicum of power abuse it at the first chance. This isn’t even addressing how vicious some people answer anons.

Sure, posting an IP address on it’s own isn’t illegal but when you tack a name onto it, then it is because you’re essentially creating a threat toward that person.

Point of this section - don’t fucking share people’s goddamn IP addresses on the dash, it just makes you a douchebag. I lose all respect for anyone doing this when I find them - fuck you for doing that.

Activism Forced into Roleplay

I used to be in the Marvel RPC. Key here: used to be. Part of the issue that lead to me leaving was how much people slammed IRL issues into RP. Yes, I’m well aware that Marvel comics has a long and deep history of taking on IRL issues and the comics themselves are quite political.

However my issue comes when this is happening outside of the Marvel community.

I’ve seen people trying to force IRL events down people’s throats. ‘You shouldn’t be happy - x, y, and z are happening right now and don’t you dare tell me to be quiet about it!’ Good way to get yourself blocked. People RP as a hobby and, for some, as a form of escape. Immersing into a character to find out what makes them tick is a form of method acting, so it could be said that we’re method writing out characters to an extent. So shoving IRL issues at some RPers can cause them to lose muse or abandon blogs entirely.

Of course, in the same breath, I’ve seen people told that they can’t RP something because they’ve never experienced it, people think they’re romanticizing it, or some other bullshit Tumblr reason. Look, I’ve experienced rape, self harm, suicidal thoughts, CSA (incestuous and non-incestuous), as well as mental and physical abuse. Don’t you dare assume that I cannot write about these experiences in an accurate way and don’t you fucking dare tell me that I can’t write it because I’ll tell you first off where you can shove your bullshit. The fact that people have to disclose that they’ve been through these things so people will stay off their ass on Tumblr RPs is fucking ridiculous too.

You don’t get to tell me what I can and cannot write on my blog when I trigger tag the living shit out of everything to make sure that I’m protecting as many people as I can from seeing it. Do not try this shit with me. Censoring someone because it doesn’t adhere to your moral code is just as bad as banning books, televisions shows, and/or movies.

Censoring something doesn’t solve the problem and boy fucking howdy does Tumblr have an issue with that. Censorship is another form of gatekeeping, by the way! You might not like it but people don’t go to jail for writing about incest or rape, just fucking saying. Oh but there have been crime authors sent to prison, I was suspended from school for writing about murder, but nothing about rape and incest.

Sure, it may raise some eyebrows and people have to actually use gasp! postblock, tumblr savior, and any other method of tag blocking so they don’t see it but uh… that’s called being responsible for your content consumption.

Tumblr Is Not The Real World

Alright. So I’m gonna close this with a good reminder that I think some people on Tumblr could use.

Tumblr is not the end-all be-all of the world.

Yes, you can make some good friends here and that’s fine but when you stay on here too long, the toxicity can start to change how you view the world around you. No, not every man that walks by you is going to rape you. No, not every woman that you see is going to be okay with you treating her the way you do female ocs and canons on here (actually, I’ve met some women who were proud they could make a full-grown man cry with the right look so).

You have to think about how Tumblr makes you view others as well. All this ‘you messed up once so you’re cancelled’ behavior is a social media phenomenon that doesn’t carry on into real life. It just doesn’t. Sure, you can block someone you know IRL but that doesn’t stop them from talking to you if they were a Facebook friend you went to school with. If they still live nearby you, they’ll either talk to you or about you. What are you going to do? Take the Tumblr route and fucking scream at them like an incoherent banshee? No, you’ll suck it the fuck up and you’ll act like a decent person, don’t fucking lie.

You need to understand that Tumblr is it’s own entity, it’s own little sphere on the internet and, by no means, is it appropriate to carry on in your daily life the way some of you do on here. And if you do, please take a moment to stop and look at yourself.

Self improvement starts when you want to improve but gatekeeping, bullying, and acting like a total barbarian to people you don’t know isn’t okay. This goes for the ones you do know too. I’m not saying that triggers aren’t important in the real world but you need to understand that forcing the social climate to change will only make people dislike you. When they don’t want to change, they’re not going to and some will refuse to change to spite you.

Forcing anything won’t help.

Gatekeeping won’t help.

Censorship has never helped.

People don’t respond to being told what to do, feel, or think. Personally, I’d tell someone to fuck off if they tried doing it to me. So why do you think you can do it to others? Ever heard of ‘treat others how you want to be treated?’ Just be fucking decent and stop acting like other people are your goddamn doormat, jfc.

#chainedloyalty #;;bahamut's voice: ooc #;;salt #;;unpopular opinion #rape mention tw #rape tw #csa mention tw #csa tw #self harm mention tw #self harm tw #suicide mention tw #suicide tw #//this is a long post #//there's a lot of salt #//proceed at your own risk #//there's been two warnings - in post and in tags #//don't @ me - talk to me if you want to know more

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greekprodigies · 6 years ago

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Why Shows Like Insatiable Are So Toxic, Despite Their Intentions

As a teenage girl who has only recently grown out of watching Disney Channel, it was safe to say I was intrigued when Netflix released the teaser trailer for their new 12-episode series Insatiable, starring Debbie Ryan, who played the title character of Disney’s Jessie for four seasons. It was a 30-second clip of Debbie Ryan in a hot pink dress, walking down a junk food aisle at a colorful grocery store, smashing everything on the shelves with a sledgehammer. Ryan’s voiceover says, “I’ve heard stories of girls who grew up happy and well-adjusted. This is not that story.” My first thoughts were, based solely on this teaser, that the main character seemed to be the villain, or at least a girl with a grudge. And, based off of this girl’s seemingly bad relationship with food, I also figured it would portray fat shaming in a way that most popular television shows don’t. I was hoping that Netflix would take their power over the teenage demographic and show a perspective that strayed away from the (respectable and still necessary) insecure overweight character still coming to terms with her own body (i.e. Kate from This Is Us or Rachel from My Mad Fat Diary). A perspective that I, an overweight high school senior who has already been through the ringer of despising my fatness, could relate to.

It’s obvious, in retrospect, that I was thinking way too deeply into a vague half-minute teaser video. I had gotten my hopes up. Those hopes were soon diminished when the official trailer was released

The video starts off with Debbie Ryan in a fat suit (I’ll get to why that is so grossly offensive later), introducing herself as Patty and showing her constant struggle as a victim of bullying and fat shaming at her high school. Her classmates (who seem to all be thin) call her “Fatty Patty”, and go so far as to spray paint it on her locker. Irene Choi, who plays Patty’s cruelest offender, is shown shouting “Porky! Butterball!” through a megaphone in the cafeteria, pointing to the main character. Then, after what seems to be a fight over a chocolate bar with a homeless man, Patty is punched in the face. Her voice-over tells us, “Having my jaw wired shut lost me more than just my summer vacation.”

Enter Patty 2.0. She’s the sparkling image of every chubby girl’s dream weight after she watches a show like this and vows to cut off carbs. No stretch marks, no cellulite, nothing that reflects what somebody’s body actually looks like after losing a large amount of weight in such a short period of time. The trailer escalates to a montage style of clips of Patty slapping, punching, and even pouring liquor onto some of her classmates before lighting a match.

It feels like a fantasy that’s trying to be relatable. That’s telling us that every bullied teenager, who’s frontal lobe isn’t developed enough to have a lot of perspective, craves revenge from their tormentors. And it’s easy for this narrative to be confused as a realistic depiction of the experience of being a teenage bullying victim. It’s even in the news, shown in the series of article published about domestic terrorist Nikolas Cruz revealing him being an orphan and being described as an “outcast” in interviews following the Parkland shooting. Sure, Insatiable’s revenge plot is meant to be satirical the same way Dexter (which Lauren Gussis, the writer and executive producer of this show, also worked on) is, but because it’s set in a high school during modern day, Patty (possibly, based on what’s shown in the trailer) killing her classmates hits a softer spot.

In the Teen Vogue article that was released with the trailer, Gussis explains how she “felt it was important to look at [bullying] head on and talk about it.” But it’s hard to look at bullying head-on when its changed so drastically over a span of 20 years. It’s past mean nicknames and cruel but clever comments said as two characters pass in a hallway. And more recently, it’s past cyberbullying. Or, at least, the way adults view cyberbullying based off of tone-deaf shows like Glee and dramatized TV movies like Cyberbully (which stars not one, but two former Disney Channel actresses). I’ve never met a high school student who got called a slut or gay 200 times in the comment section of a Facebook post. And, if I am completely wrong due to the fact that I’ve grown up during the social media transition from Facebook to Instagram and Snapchat, that form of bullying died when the Facebook phenomenon did. It is a subtler conversation than the beautiful cool kids versus the ugly losers.The solution is simple: If you’re going to make a show based off of your experiences of bullying in the 80’s, 90’s or even early 2000’s, make the show take place during those decades. Colliding old stereotypes to a character who exists in 2018 is unrealistic and humiliating.

Intention wise, Insatiable can be easily compared to another controversial Netflix original series, 13 Reasons Why. In the warning videos that are shown before watching, the stars of the show say, “By shedding a light on these difficult topics, we hope our show can help viewers start a conversation. But if you struggling with these issues yourself, this series may not be right for you, or you may want to watch it with a trusted adult,” And this message perfectly conveys a show that’s purpose seems heartfelt but is ultimately clueless. Here we have a television program that is produced by a bunch of 30 year olds, where people in their 20’s play high school students (yes, everyone who plays a teenager in 13RW are actually in their 20’s), pretending to understand what it’s like to be a teenager as if the dynamic between young people and mental illness hasn’t changed immensely in just the past couple of years. Just in five, the use of memes and irony has shifted from simply making fun of something, to helping us cope with the fact that our world is on fire. Everybody is laughing at the jokes about depression because, since the rise of social media and the quantification of how many people like us, we all feel depressed. Suicide, though tragic, has now been boiled down to kids saying they want to kill themselves when they have too much homework. We have an education system that teaches us about the anatomy of sex but never teaches us what questions need to be asked about consent during our sexual experiences. So making a show to start a conversation about depression, suicide, and sexual assault that warns it’s targeted audience (who are constantly surrounded by these topics) that the show might not be right for them is simply irresponsible.

But, if I can counteract what I just said, 13 Reasons Why horrifically also is the only show I’ve seen that has the most correct articulation of modern bullying. That’s not to say that anything else with the show is correct, because it’s not. Perhaps what is so wrong about 13RW is that, because they focus so much on the bullying aspect of high school, it provides a direct correlation between bullying and suicide. Well, that, and the graphic/triggering suicide and sexual assault scenes that were used for shock value. Nevertheless, Hannah Baker doesn’t go home and find a bunch of Instagram DMs of her classmates called her a whore. Any secrets that Hannah’s offenders had regarding what could have led her to kill herself were events that happened IRL. And they were just that: Secrets. Because the bullies were ashamed of what they had done. Even before Hannah committed suicide, Jessica Davis didn’t just go around telling people she slapped her ex-best friend because she thought she had betrayed her.

With Insatiable, it seems like everybody in this fictional high school (except for Patty’s best friend and maybe even a popular girl with a heart of gold) is insanely okay with harassing a girl just because of her appearance. It’s insulting, both as a fat girl and an observer of modern bullying. There isn’t one school in the country where 99% of its students just allow this sort of cruelty. Because we have perspectives and opinions that (surprise!) aren’t always swayed by whatever Instagram model is trending right now. Just because Emma Chamberlain is successful and skinny, doesn’t mean that we’re brainwashed to only make skinny people successful. I’m not saying that there isn’t an institutional privilege that skinny girls have, and have always had when it comes to social acceptance. Because they do. But there’s a gray area where most people stand when it comes to issues as new and contentious as body positivity, and Insatiable is ignoring it. You don’t have to be a body-posi activist to know that making somebody feel like shit because of their weight is wrong. And I hope this show can have a character that, without having any relation to Patty, recognizes that what these bullies are doing is outrageous.

After we recognize that the intention of these shows is ultimately flawed, we can then try to take a step forward and look at the impact. 13 Reasons Why, after being loudly criticized by suicide prevention experts, broke virtually every rule of portraying suicide. And as a result, a study shows that searches such as “how to commit suicide”, “suicide hotline number” and “teen suicide” were elevated after the show’s release. The time period for the search ended on April 18th of that year after NFL player Aaron Hernandez committed suicide, which could have influenced data. And any searches related to the movie Suicide Squad were discounted. Sure, the show had increased suicide awareness, but it also unintentionally increased suicide rationalization. And I fear that Insatiable may be on the same path. Regardless of the revenge plot or the bullying, there is still a skinny actress in a fat suit portraying a fat character who only eats, sits on the couch, and feels bad about herself. Then, after a summer of not being able to eat, returns to high school skinny and composed.

Firstly, the use of a fat suit is sickly but overall not surprising. In a world where blackface and yellowface in Hollywood has only just become unacceptable, fat suits seem more defendable for skinny people who don’t understand that there are a plethora of plus size actors who could have played Fatty Patty just as well (and most likely better) than Debby Ryan with pillows stuffed up her shirt. Perhaps the show could have avoided being so oblivious to its fat-shaming storyline if they had an actual fat person weighing in on it.

Secondly, there is the characterization of fat people as losers who do nothing but eat and watch TV. If there were a time and place for these characters to exist, it is definitely not now, where the call for diversity in Hollywood is louder than ever. Plus, we’ve already seen these people before. And it’s the same plot every time. They are only created to provide a funny prequel to a supposedly more stable version of the character. “Fat Monica” from Friends and “Fat Schmidt” from New Girl show a universe where plus size people can’t be taken seriously until they shed the pounds. When in reality, fat men and women are perfectly capable of being successful in their professional and romantic lives. Ironically enough, another New Girl character comes to mind when I think of plus size characters being accurately portrayed: Emily. She’s Schmidt’s ex-girlfriend from college, who dated him when he was her “Big Guy”. After Schmidt reminisces about losing his virginity to her, she resurfaces into his life as a confident woman who goes on dates and isn’t ashamed of who she is. There even seems to be a layer to her character showing that there had been a time where she was insecure about herself and her body but has overcome them. This is an example of a healthy goal for young girls and boys who are self-conscious of their body. Not Debby Ryan’s character, who only gains confidence after losing an obscene amount of weight.

It may actually be the casting of Debby Ryan that could cause a rise in body dysmorphia in young people from watching this show. Since her face is plastered on every poster, teaser and trailer for the show, Disney Channel fans, and former fans might watch simply because she’s cast as the lead role. It’s certainly what sparked my interest in the show. And since Disney Channel’s demographic has gotten younger and younger, there’s a generation that will watch this show and not see it as fat shaming, but a way to become the person they’ve always wanted to be. Skinny, beautiful and confident while simultaneously making all of their classmates' jaws drop as they walk down the hallway. But Patty doesn’t lose weight healthily, she literally could not eat solid food. Depending on how the show addresses this, it is a possible glorification of anorexia. Just like 13 Reasons Why glorified and romanticized depression. But two wrongs don’t make a right, and anorexia and depression can not make anybody beautifully broken.

To make things clear, I am not telling you to not watch this show. And based off of the 100,000 signatures (and counting) on a petition for the show’s cancellation, none of us may even get to. But speaking as a person who fits into all of these groups, Insatiable gets everything wrong about being a high schooler, a teenage girl, and a fat person.

#insatiable #netflix #debby ryan #op ed #fatphobia #fat shaming #body positive #body posititivity #anorexia #depression #13 reasons why #13rw #suicide

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automatismoateo · 3 years ago

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In response to a question in a recent thread where someone asked me to go in-depth, here's a description of my experience in Education and teaching Science in Arkansas and why I finally quit. via /r/atheism

Submitted July 11, 2021 at 11:22PM by paxinfernum (Via reddit https://ift.tt/3ALPxPr) In response to a question in a recent thread where someone asked me to go in-depth, here's a description of my experience in Education and teaching Science in Arkansas and why I finally quit.

The only thing that matters

Here's something you need to understand first. In most rural districts, pretty much any idiot can get hired to a position and stay there as long as they don't piss off parents too much. The people hiring you don't really understand what you teach, and the parents don't understand or care what quality teaching is, but they care if you say something that offends their backward sensibilities. What that effectively means is that your ability to teach and stay on has more to do with being in sync with the community, who are usually racist and batshit paranoid. If you aren't in sync with that, you either have to keep your head down, or you will eventually get harassed into leaving due to vague complaints.

Abusive parenting is normal here

Okay. So starting with my student teaching. The woman I worked under was a total fucking psychopath. She bragged in the teachers' lounge about how she disciplined her daughter and people don't discipline their kids like that now. By discipline, I mean she told a story about how she chased her daughter down a hallway, dragged her by the hair of her head, and spanked her until she was raw. This was part of a story where she was bragging about how well behaved her daughter was due to her parenting.

If you're wondering if anyone pushed back against this, the answer is that they didn't. They were nodding their heads in affirmation. That's the problem with rural schools in a nutshell. The community hires from the community, and the community is backward as shit and filled with people who were raised in abusive conservative fundie homes. The parents, by the way, loved that teacher because she wasn't one of those soft "liberal" teachers. Parents, more than anyone else, wanted us to hit their kids and were always disappointed when they didn't get spanked. Child abuse is a way of life down here.

Teachers who are fearful of knowledge

Okay, so this woman was a science teacher. That's what I trained to teach. Science. I did so because I wasn't just one of those "science is awesome" Sagan-heads. I genuinely cared about teaching science as more than just fun facts, but as a methodology for uncovering the truth. I naively went into the field thinking that's what most science teachers would be like. I kind of hoped that I'd at least find a community of like-minded individuals in this ignorant state.

Over my entire teaching career, I literally never met another science teacher like me who was pro-science and pro-skepticism. They were overwhelmingly either just dumb and teaching rotely, or they were conspiratorial and fearful of science. This is exactly what an Arkansas school board wants out of a science teacher. They know they have to teach science, but they are afraid of science and see it as the most dangerous subject to teach in their little fundagelical minds. So they hire people who are afraid of science.

That crazy woman I trained under? She ranted about drones being used to spy on us. She told the kids GMOs were dangerous, and she told them homeopathic medicines were something she'd researched to help her friend with cancer. She wasn't unique in that regard. Every other science teacher I met in Arkansas was terrified of GMOs and had some conspiracy they wanted to rant about. One teacher's bugaboo was allergies and how he thought more people were getting allergies because of chemicals being put in the water. He brushed it off when I said it was probably due to more sensitive testing. Another teacher told their students the most horrendous and completely inaccurate facts about nuclear energy.

They're not sending us their best people

The point is these people weren't the best and brightest. Often, they weren't even adequate. One guy I worked with became a science teacher because he needed something to teach alongside coaching. He was dumb as a box of rocks and just barely passed his praxis exams after three tries. I know most people weren't going to ace these tests like I did, but the cutoff for a passing score in Arkansas is hilariously low. Yet, when he finally passed, it was only by a single point, and he recounted it to me like it was only by the grace of god.

Another teacher, a math teacher who was probably the worst speller I'd ever met, got certified in Texas, which has a lower standard for math, and he transferred his certification to Arkansas. So he only was able to teach math in Arkansas on a technicality. The way it works is that you only have to be recertified if you let your certification lapse. All that's required to recertify is doing 30 hours of PD per year, and then, every couple of years, you have to do the recertification process. But this idiot was too stupid to do that, and he let his certification expire. So then, he was teaching math without a license because he couldn't pass the Arkansas tests. (You're allowed to teach for so long as long as you're pursuing certification.)

Propaganda and Indoctrination

Half of the teachers I met might as well have been missionaries. It's illegal to push your religion or politics on students, but fuck if anyone will actually enforce that. Actually, let me step back there. Fuck if anyone will actually enforce that unless you're liberal or non-Christian. The state is an unofficial conservative theocracy so if the teacher wants to rant about gays or Jesus, there's very little chance any parent will even bother to complain. (Even liberals around here know they're outnumbered and won't win.) Even if the parent complains to the Principal, they'll only "have a word" with the teacher in question, most likely to have a chummy conversation where they eye roll about the parent and discuss ways they can continue to evangelize more subtly.

Even if the Principal is the type who takes this seriously, the teacher will only get a vague note in their file because no school board around here is going to fire a teacher for proselytizing children. They don't want the school to get burned down by an angry mob of Fox News zombies. Even if it makes it to the state ethics board, I've seen the state ethics board literally do nothing about a counselor who ignored a suicidal student, a teacher who was caught drunk driving, a superintendent who was manipulating the system to siphon more money into the school, and so many other things. The only thing the ethics board actually takes a license away for is cheating on standardized testing (got to keep our corporate donors happy) and actually fucking a student. Even if you bring a teacher up on proselytizing, they'll get a warning and be back in the classroom the next day.

So if you're a kid in a rural school, get ready for your teacher to unsubtly tell you about how Jesus is such an important part of their life or straight-up rant about the Democrats. When I was a student in Arkansas schools, I had teachers tell me: 1) All gay people should be thrown in prison 2) HIV-positive patients should be shipped to an island or burned (it was the 90s) 3) the Jews brought the holocaust on to themselves by rejecting Jesus 4) the teacher was boycotting Levis jeans because they supported gay people. That's just a sampling of shit I heard as a kid in Arkansas from freaking teachers.

While working as a teacher, I knew of teachers who latched onto kids with poor home lives and invited them over to their homes so they could do "prayer studies" with them. The kids went because they were kind to them and offered food. In case you're wondering, they got away with this because it was a husband and wife, so parents allowed it. (I'm just going to say that I'm actually quite certain this was entirely above board sex-wise. I knew the individuals, and while I despised what they were doing, I knew they were entirely sincere.)

Another teacher, a Trump supporter, went into a rant about how they needed to give all the teachers guns to fight off school shooters (because restricting guns in any way was tOtAlItArIaNiSm.) I nodded along because I was smart enough to know disagreeing publicly will get you shunned or harassed. All I could think in my head was "Dude, if they ever give you nutters guns, that's the day I quit. There will be 10 dead kids within a week." On that topic, one teacher I know of grabbed a student by the throat because they were pissed at them, and they didn't lose their job.

The history teacher, the one who wanted us to all have guns was teaching that the Civil War was about tariffs. You heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen. Hundreds of thousands of people went to war over tariffs that were at their lowest point in decades. It had nothing to do with the people they owned and shackled up like a Saw movie. The Civics teacher pushed Trump election conspiracies.

Another teacher, who had a family member who had a terminal illness and was literally only getting their medical treatment paid through Obamacare would go off on rants about Obama and transgender students.

Harassment

At one point, I was harassed by the campus cop. He found out I was in support of BLM, and literally screamed at me. Later, he transitioned to simply refusing to acknowledge my existence. Like, if I said anything to him, he would pretend he couldn't hear me. The dude was fucking insane and filled with hate. I'm pretty sure his domestic situation with his wife was abusive due to things he said. He was so angry and radicalized that it was never the students I worried would be a mass shooter. It was him. I was literally afraid he would come in one day and shoot the place up. He wasn't an oddity though. Every one of our resource officers was racist and unethical. One was running a vaping ring with students. Another took special joy in cracking down on Latino students.

Eventually, I started getting harassment from students though, and that's what led to me leaving. There are two things that led to increasing harassment. First, I had one conservative student who hated me and surmised that I must be a Clinton supporter. I never said that, but because I was one of the few teachers who didn't violate the rules about discussing religion or politics, they guess that I was a liberal atheist. So they started working to get me fired.

The second thing is that the Arkansas standards changed so that teaching evolution became part of my classroom standards. Just so you know, most schools in Arkansas don't actually teach evolution, even though they're supposed to. The way it works is teachers put it last on their things to teach, and oopsie, I just ran out of time at the end of the year. Some teachers know evolution is real, but they don't teach it because the backlash is too much to take. Others don't teach it because they're fundagelicals themselves, so they go along with the informal conspiracy to not teach evolution. I say informal conspiracy because it's not like they all get together in a back room and decide this. It's just the culture and incentives are all there to not teach it.

I actually taught evolution, and while I had always dealt with some degree of negativity, looking back, I have to say that was the point where I started getting a lot more. I can't emphasize enough how brainwashed these kids were. I'm not saying all of them because there were absolutely kids who believed in evolution, but they were in a minority and knew to keep their mouths shut. But it's sort of staggering to try to teach the history of the Earth and have a kid repeatedly try to prove to you that there was a global flood.

How harassment actually works in the real world

This is the thing I want people to understand. Harassment in the real world isn't usually as obvious as in a movie. No one drives by your house and throws a brick through your window. No one calls you up and leaves threatening messages. No one will ever fire you for being liberal or an atheist. Because these people are dumb as fuck, but they're also very clever at being shitty people. They know they can't walk up and say to the school board, "Fire so and so because they're teaching evolution." They know that's illegal technically.

So they just start making up vague complaints. Principals, even ones who were supportive like my last Principal, are reactive. If a parent comes to them to complain about a teacher, they're going to assume the teacher did something wrong and needs to be talked to. So the girl who found out I was a Hillary Clinton supporter suddenly decided I "made her uncomfortable" and "looked her weird." The great thing about these types of innuendos and character assaults is that you don't have to provide any real facts. It's all about how you just don't like that person. Remember that teachers are one of the few professions where you can actually be fired simply because the community doesn't like you.

So that fell flat because, like I said, my Principal was actually decent and understood how flimsy that was. So then, that girls boyfriend made a complaint about how I'd yelled at him in front of all the students. Unfortunately for him, this supposed incident happened while we were in a part of the school with cameras so it was obviously bullshit. However, parents calling in upset is still a big deal so I was told that I should try to be nicer to him in the future and win the parents over.

The point is that it's basically death by a thousand cuts from little gripes and exaggerated concerns. Another student flat-out lied and said I cussed them out in class. I know that some of this was actually instigated by a staff member who didn't like me. So they encourage students to complain about me. At one point, I know they actually set up a kid's parents to lodge a complaint against me. I know this because the language of the complaint was obviously written by them, and when I was having the parent conference, they actually stayed behind work (something they never did) and didn't leave our adjoining rooms until it was over. They apparently wanted to listen in and see how it went. This conservative teacher at various times: told me the wrong place for a meeting, got kids to say they would show up for an after school event and then not show up, convinced an entire group of students to quit a club I was sponsoring, spread rumors about me to parents.

I'm done

The final straw was covid. I tried to stick it out, but the day a kid told me he wasn't going to wear a mask because "Biden isn't the real President" was the point where I decided I was done. This came from teachers too. The biology teacher wore a mask below their nose. The staff refused to stop having potlucks throughout the entire pandemic. Some people can't be saved.

edit: I forgot to mention the English teacher I met while I was doing my student-teacher training. She was forcing her class to write essays on how Obama wasn't a real US Citizen. All throughout my teacher program, I'd been told over and over that you could get fired for talking politics in the classroom, and this bitch was literally forcing kids to write essays about how Obama was a secret Muslim. And nothing was done about it. She could get away with it because Arkansas is so white and racist. To put it into context, the county she was teaching in was 94% white and voted for Trump by 78% in 2020.

#reddit

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anon-luv · 7 years ago

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TOSKA -1- (ReaderXBTS)

Genre: Psyche/Mental Institution AU Romance & Angst

Pairing: ReaderXBTS(Taehyung, Jimin, Yoongi)

Summary: “Will you be able to recover and move on, or will your past continue to haunt you?”

Trigger Warning: This Fic will contain explicit language and scenes. It will address controversial topics. We understand psychological illnesses vary from case to case. All contents in the following story are based on fiction. This story will not be suitable for all ages, due to the sensitive topics it will contain. Hope ya’ll enjoy :)

Word Count: 4k+

Collaboration with @riki-leigh-c

Author’s Note:

@anon-luv Hey Guys, I am so excited/nervous to post this fic. I hope you enjoy it as much as we are while writing it. You know I love feedback, so let us know what you think. Feedback, Comments, Reblogs, Likes, and mentions greatly encourage us writers. We are going to leave the final pairing as undecided until we further develop the story. Minor Grammer Mistakes. HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!

@riki-leigh-c : This is my first time writing a fic. Please bare with me, any constructive criticism would be much appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

“Toska - noun /ˈtō-skə/ - Russian word roughly translated as sadness, melancholia, lugubriousness.

"No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases, it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level, it grades into ennui, boredom.

White.

In most cultures, it signifies purity, comfort, holiness, cleansing, a beacon of hope.

For you, white had quite a contradictory meaning. To you, white meant prison, endless appointments, a padded room, the pages of the daily journal you never wrote on, and the shirt stained with red that laid upon his chest as the bullet sealed both of your futures. The future that had ended for him, and the one that had gotten you locked into this place.

The monotonous routine and smell of antibacterial flooded your days, causing a sense of panic. If it wasn’t for your best friends’ every other day visits, you would’ve probably collapsed of boredom.

PTSD, that is what they said it was, the hallucinations, the ones that kept you up at night. Whatever it is, it was the only way you could see him, as if he was still here beside you. You didn’t want to close your eyes, in case he disappeared. Every morning you dreaded having to leave your room, for you had to pretend you didn’t see him standing nearby or smiling at you.

It was your imagination, you knew it…. but you couldn’t deny that just seeing him was what kept you going throughout the day. Even if reality had taken him away from you, the memory of him had fooled your brain into projecting him into your everyday life.

It was 12:15……. Hoseok was late….. He was 45 minutes and 30 seconds late. What if he had forgotten to change those overused tires that you had scolded him time and time again to get changed?

Was he okay? Did he get sick? You had seen the rain falling mercilessly from your window pane.

The tapping of your fingers increasing in speed as the door opened again, but your eyes landed on an unfamiliar figure once again. It had been 2 weeks. TWO long weeks in this institution and Hoseok had yet to be late. He was always early or right on time.

The sweat forming in the palm of your hands caused an uncomfortable, sticky sensation which triggered your anxiety slightly more. A loud deep laugh blasted throughout the room, causing you to jump slightly. The same young man that you had seen on several occasions was sitting in front of the same black haired girl. She was constantly talking while he just stared emotionless at the white wall in front of her. He never addressed her back, but she never gave up. His eyes suddenly flicked up to meet yours and another manic laugh exploded from his lips. His gaze moved back to the white wall and the laughter ceased almost as quickly as it began.

You glanced back up at the clock on the wall. Another 2 minutes and 17 seconds had passed. Where was he? Dark thoughts began to flutter through your mind. What if he’s had enough of you? Or what if something awful has happened to him? What if someone’s murdered him? Your breathing began to quicken, and your hands began to shake as vivid images of all the reasons why Hoseok was not there yet burned themselves into your brain, one by one. You could feel the all too familiar feeling of a full-blown panic attack start to creep its way into your chest. Breath, Y/N you thought to yourself, trying to remember the coping techniques they’d been teaching you in therapy. Gulping down air, you tried to get the attention of a warden. The sound of the door opening and closing drew your attention. Hoseok rushed in, red in the face and panting, doubled over trying to catch his breath. “Y/N” he yelled out across the room, causing more than a few heads to turn your way. He rushed over to you, already being able to see the effects of your panic attack. He put his hands on either side of your face and looked you dead in the eye. “Breath, Y/N. I’m here, I’m fine,” he whispered while using the clichè breathing technique of having you copy him. It worked though. Every time. After a few minutes, your breathing returned to normal and Hoseok patted your hair, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, before getting up abruptly. “Y/N, I’m going to have a chat to one of the staff okay? I’ll be right back. No longer than 5 minutes, you can count them, alright?” You simply nodded in response, still slightly out of it after your latest ‘episode.

There is a rush of adrenaline when people fall, it makes them feel like their insides bundle up, and make their way towards their throat forming a perfect knot just to come back down, just before they hit the ground. That’s how you felt at that exact moment as you saw Hoseok’s familiar messy mop of dark brown hair exit the room.

The numbness within your fingertips was now fading into slight prickles that you could feel crawling up your extremities. The heaviness in your chest that had felt like a piano had crushed it a few moments ago was being lifted, only leaving in its path a soreness that had begun to dissipate. Your pounding heart still beating loudly in your ears as your eyes traveled amongst the room to analyze the number of witnesses that had obtained a front row seat on your full-blown show. Much to your surprise, everyone was focused on their own task and you had gone under the radar. You assumed people were probably immune to the many spectacles that had taken place within these four walls.

There was only one set of brown eyes staring at you, and those eyes seemed to be more amused with the sudden predicament you had found yourself in, than worried. A small smirk lay upon his plush lips as he swept your body from top to bottom absorbing all your figure in as if you were a piece of fine art, on display in a museum. A shiver ran down your spine. He made you uneasy. His sporadic, maniacal laughter sounded again as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He seemed like the true definition of insane. Just as suddenly as it started, he stopped laughing and went back to staring at you. You felt your heartbeat start to quicken and your palms getting sweaty, the telltale signs of another panic attack. Hoseok made a reappearance right at the moment you had started to feel your chest constricting and your throat getting tight.

“It’s alright (y/n), I’m so sorry I got here late, I got a flat tire on the way over” he said as he sat down on the cold metal chair and scooted his way forward, closer to you. The faint smell of his cologne calmed you down automatically.

The speed of your finger tapping decreased as you examined him from head to toe assuring yourself that he was indeed okay.

“You had me worried, I told you several times to get that thing you call a car checked Hoseok” you said as you grasped his hand “I’m sorry for taking away your lunchtime, you are honestly the only reason I am not in solitary confinement right now, this place is bonkers”.

Hoseok gave you a wide smile as he looked around the area examining the patients surrounding you “Yeah… it does seem pretty crazy huh? It is only for a bit though, Y/N.” Hoseok smiled brightly at you, a smile you always thought looked as bright as the sun, before shifting his chair to sit next to you and gently pushing your head down to rest on his shoulder. “I don’t know about that Hobi,” you sighed deeply, closing your eyes while a montage of memories filtered through your brain at the use of his nickname. You breathed in his comforting scent, already knowing he would smell just like springtime. “I don’t feel like I’m getting better.”

The silence that followed your statement thickened the air that surrounded the both of you. Hoseok looked into your eyes hoping to see the familiar twinkle of hope you used to carry around before that horrible night.

“Well, you know ...Rome wasn’t built in one night. Just promise me you will try, participate in activities and let the counselors in. Please do it for me” he said pouting cutely your way. You lifted the corner of your mouth in a slight smile, but your heart wasn’t in it when you answered. “I will.”

The dorm you had been assigned lacked personality. Just like everything else, it was white from top to bottom, with a few accents of a washed out green and mustard yellow. Whoever participated in coordinating the color scheme might’ve been color blind. Despite the general distaste you had for your room’s superficial overall look, it was the only place you felt at ease in. The rock-hard bed was unusually homey, and the fact that there were no windows gave you a sense of safety for some reason. No one would be able to sneak in through your window while you slept. Just the thought of being able to see what the outside world contained while unsupervised up-close gave a chill up your spine.

The clock in your room showed 9pm, which meant there was a long night ahead and the dosage that had been prescribed for your sleeping medication was shit. You were tired, but your eyes refused to close. You knew the night that laid ahead of you was going to be long and emotionally tiring. You sat on the edge of the bed trying to practice the exercises you had gone over with your primary psychologist, praying for them to work. The silence within your room was all consuming until you heard deep screams. The words were incomprehensible, but the volume kept rising signifying the person was getting closer and closer to your room. You stood up quickly and slammed your door shut, before peeking out the window, your curiosity getting the best of you.

“Fuck you! Take me back. That fucking bastard, how dare he fucking touch my shit.” a bleach blond man about your age screamed as two male nurses dragged him, one by the arms and the other one by the waist, towards the door opposite yours. He swung his right arm straight at the nurse’s jaw, which the nurse was barely able to dodge. He was putting up a good fight, surprisingly, for his size made you think he would be much weaker. You hid behind your door a bit more, only your eyes visible now. The man screamed more obscenities as he was thrown into the room and onto the bed, and two more nurses entered the room. They held onto his arms wrapping what seemed like cloth on his ankles and wrists. One of them was holding a visible needle, you were assuming it was some kind of medication. The man was no longer screaming, and you could see how his muscles relaxed into the comfort of his bed, and his eyes drooped. A sigh of relief escaping your lips, as you noticed the nurses had finished attaching the remaining restraints on him. You closed your eyes tightly as you walked back to your bed and covered yourself completely with the blanket, the fear of what was right across the hall getting the best of you. The dorm across the hall hailed a dangerous threat in the shape of a blond-haired man, and even though his features looked peaceful and quite charming as he lay immobile upon his bed, his vile words just now meant you knew better. You felt the first of the night's many quivers in your stomach, letting you know that the horrible memories you tried to keep buried during the day we’re about to be released.

The shadow of the past, conjured now by your broken psyche, sat on your bed staring straight at you.

“It’s not real….it’s not real…..it’s not real” you kept whispering to yourself, but your eyes couldn’t stop staring at his face as he smiled….that smile you used to love “He is not here…...he is not here…..he is not here……”

Black circles flourished under your sunken eyes the following morning. It had been a sleepless night, just as you had predicted. The constant itch of checking up on your new dorm neighbor and the hallucination of who you thought would be your forever kept your eyes wandering around your room and sleep at bay. You weren’t due for a visit from Hoseok and only had a psychologist appoint late in the afternoon. You had absolutely no idea how you were going to keep yourself occupied in between. Maybe I’ll ask the nurses for a book or two, you thought to yourself as you changed into your uniform white shirt and pants, with matching slippers. You had just opened the door to step out when you noticed a number of nurses leaving the room across from yours. His room. After the sedative had worn off, the blonde man had screamed obscenities for hours, only worsening your hallucinations. He demanded over and over for the restraints to be removed to no avail. Eventually, he just wailed, long, harrowing cries that frightened you even further. As the last of the nurses exited the room, you caught a quick glance of the blonde man sitting upright on the edge of his bed, looking down and rubbing his wrists, before the nurse shut the door and began to leave.

“Excuse me,” you called after him, shrinking back slightly as he turned to face you. You averted your gaze and asked softly “is there any possibility of getting a few books to read?”

He smiled slightly before nodding, “sure, I’ll scrounge some up and leave them by your door.”

“Thanks,” you replied before indicating for him to leave. There was no way you were walking with your back to him, despite how nice he came across. You waited, back flat against your door, for a few minutes, wanting to give yourself a safe distance from the nurse. Just as you were about head towards the common area, the door across from you flung open, revealing the blonde man. His eyes were narrowed into slits and his rosy lips were positioned in an unfriendly frown. The fear that had gathered within you from the initial shock of his presence was slightly forgotten as your curious eyes traveled along his pale sugary white face. There were noticeable red marks on his wrists that made you unconsciously rub your own.

“Good Morning” you heard a deep voice say, catching you off guard. Your fly or fight system wanted to run away as soon as the words spilled out of his mouth, but your body was betraying you by staying frozen in place. He waited patiently for a response, but after examining your panicked expression he shrugged it off, and took a step forward closer to you “Yoongi’ he said extending his hand towards you.

You looked at his hand as if it was fire ready to burn you into ashes, but for some reason, your hand found his. Your voice though was not cooperating and all you could do was stare at his figure confused at the contrasting personality that radiated from him this morning compared to that displayed last night.

“Y/N?” he asked you as he read the name plaque outside your room. You nodded as you cautiously took a step back away from him. You felt exposed, and you wanted to escape the feeling of nausea that had started stirring in your gut. The white walls around you closing in as the image in front of you started blurring around the edges. The lack of sleep starting to take a toll on you. Your breathing had become visibly more agitated, but before your knees could give out, you felt another presence standing before you. The distorted image of an unfamiliar silver-haired boy came to view as he hummed a tune and encircled your body with his own as if to block you from any unwanted feelings that had lined up to once again drag you to the deepest pits of emotional hell.

“Calm down and try to match your breathing with mine” he whispered softly with a higher pitched voice than that of the blond boy who was still standing nearby, he seemed a bit uncomfortable as he took in the scene unfolding before him.

Your hands were gripping onto the boy’s shirt as if he was the anchor to your sanity. Before you knew it, the heaviness that had settled on your chest had once again faded into nothingness. You quickly stood up and pushed yourself away from the stranger embarrassed at your previous actions.

“Jimin” the silver-haired boy said quickly without any explanation before you could respond Yoongi welcomed himself to introduce you as well as himself.

“I am Yoongi and this is (Y/N), what you just did bro...thank you” Yoongi said awkwardly.

Jimin just nodded to the both of you quickly and then took off as if he was in a hurry. You looked at Yoongi once again, but before he had a chance to speak, you had already started walking off to head towards the common area, taking turns between facing forward and sneaking glances back at him to make sure he wasn’t pulling a stunt behind your back. As you made your way to the end of the hall you noticed his figure had disappeared back into his dorm. The shadow of what had happened still engraved in your mind as you walked into the common area, you just knew this won’t be the only interaction you had with your neighbor and the fear of what will come will more than likely be present throughout the entire day.

“How is your sleep Ms. Y/N” the doctor asked in a fairly monotone voice. The lack of emotion in his voice aggravating you. His presence was that of a rock, and in all honesty, consulting with a wall would probably have the same effect as this.

“To be honest like shit” you replied trying to be as monotone as he was.

“Anything we can do to aid your sleeping habits?” He said as he scribbled down what seemed more like a doodle than a note on his notepad.

“Memory Foam? Or one of those water beds. I have always wanted to try one of those.” you replied with fake enthusiasm.

The doctor took that as a queue to stare up at your figure with a serious face “Ms. Y/N, we can’t proceed with treatment without your help. It takes two to tango, so your cooperation is essential for you to improve. Now, I have registered you for some group sessions that I think will be of benefit to your case, and one of those is for patients with insomnia. That one is every night for 45 minutes, you will be learning techniques to clear your mind and be able to get some shut-eye. Also, please start writing in your journal, we find it helps patients significantly.”

You nodded no longer interested in his rant as you grabbed the paper he had placed on the table in front of you. There was a list of 3 different counseling sessions that you were expected to assist other than your 1 on 1 session. You sighed annoyed at your now crowded schedule.

The green yard in the facility premises was crowded with bodies, some familiar, and some not, ranging from various ages and genders. When you had first arrived, you had felt out of place, but as the days went on you realized you fit in strangely amongst the people that had been locked in here. You had yet to make an acquaintance, but you had already heard a few of the stories, and in all honesty, some made your past look like a fairy tale. There were a few psychos within the bunch, and the rumors that surrounded some of the people were frightening, that is why you had isolated yourself for the duration of your stay. Hoseok had been, for the most part, the only reason you had the courage to step outside of your room. You surveyed the area, making sure not to lock eyes with anyone, nurses, and patients alike. You walked slowly towards an empty seat across the yard, body tense and eyes zipping around your skull, trying to keep an eye on everything all at once. You were monitoring the people on your left when you felt a presence to your right. You stopped dead in your tracks before whipping around, bringing your hands up to your face to defend yourself against whoever had dared to get too close. The first thing you heard was manic laughter, before noticing a semi-familiar pair of brown eyes, creased at the corners, staring back at you. You just about jumped out of your skin in an effort to put some space between the laughter and yourself. You could feel your chest constricting and your breathing getting shallow. Please, not here. Not in front of all these people, you thought to yourself. You already knew it wouldn’t help. Just as quickly as the laughter started, it was over and the patient behind the laughter was sticking his hand out to introduce himself. Before he had a chance to say anything, Jimin came running over, shoving the laugher out of the way. “Taehyungie, what did I say?” He all but shouted at the guy.

The flourish of activity going on in front of you was causing your panic attack to worsen. Your hands felt like they were dripping with sweat and your throat had begun to feel like it was closing. “Y/N, it’s okay just breath with me again, shhhh,” Jimin said as he grabbed a hold of both of your hands and looked you dead in the eye.

He worked through the same breathing technique that he had done earlier, and you soon began to feel calm.

“Thank you,” you said softly, quickly letting go of his hands and dropping your gaze to the lush green grass you all stood on.

“It’s okay, Y/N, I’m sorry about Taehyung,” he said as he looked down at him, still laying on the grass. He leaned down and offered a hand to Taehyung, pulling him quickly to his feet.

“Taehyung, introduce yourself the way we talked about please,” Jimin looked expectantly at Taehyung, who inclined his head bashfully.

“Hello Y/N,” Taehyung said, dropping his voice significantly in what you can only assume was an effort to keep you calm. “My name is Taehyung.”

“Hello,” you replied, bowing slightly but still not lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. Manic laughter suddenly exploded from Taehyung’s lips, causing you to let out a scream of both shock and fear. You clamped your mouth, placing a hand over your rapidly beating heart and took off running towards the spare seat you had originally been trying to get to.

You took a cautious glance towards where Jimin and Taehyung were still standing, clearly not expecting your escapade. Jimin raised his hand to smack Taehyung in a playful manner behind his head. Taehyung in exchange just hung his head looking a bit disappointed in himself. You averted your eyes before they caught you looking at them, hoping it would give them a clear sign that you were not fond of strange company.

You rubbed your hands against your knees nervously as you inspected your surroundings, hoping that the loud rapid beating in your ears would eventually quiet into nothingness. You took a deep breath as your eyes landed on a red rose bush. Memories of late nights hiding in your neighbor’s yards as you laid upon his chest caused your eyes to tear up. You looked at the figure that sat beside you, a perfect figment of what had been, staring right back at you.

“Jin” you whispered softly as your eyes devoured his familiar features. A pang of pain surging from the last memories you had beside him. His plump lips smiling at you like they had many times before, the temptation of leaning in to feel their warmth taking over, but before the contact was made a voice interrupted you.

“Um…..are you okay?” said a deep familiar voice, snapping you out of the enchantment of your imagination.

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zensakira · 7 years ago

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The topic of mental illness

When you hear the words “Insanity and Mental Illness” associated with a person, our default reaction is to stay away from them. They are, in other words, crazy, or retarded. When we hear that a certain person is mentally ill, we may think that they need some serious help. But how often do we offer the help we need ourselves?

When parents notice that their child may be mentally ill, if they are the good kind, they will do everything in their power to help them, or help them get some professional help, like therapists. If they are the kind that doesn’t really care, they will be more harsh and find their child as more of a nuisance and an obstacle to their daily lives that they are being forced to take care of.

That is the case, but how often do parents even acknowledge and accept that their child is mentally ill? Let’s take depression as an example. Despite the soaring number of suicide cases on Earth, no one learns. Often when parents of children who have killed themselves are asked if they had any knowledge of their child’s depression, they almost nearly always reply with “I didn’t know, if she/he did she/he would’ve told me, I don’t understand why she/he didn’t.” Has anyone ever went further from that? To actually find the problem and create a solution? Has anyone stopped to think that maybe the reason their child never told them anything could have been because their children thought their parents would never listen? Or care? Or do anything about it? Or never accept their reasons behind it? Or maybe because their parents would over-react, chuck them into a school for mentally-ill people, and not allow them to interact with anyone else, because they might make their child depressed again?

I could go on and on for reasons that their child had been so secretive, so disconnected from their parents. But dwelling in the past is useless. We have to find solutions. On the case of depression, the governments of counties probably had already created a suicide hotline for suicidal people seeking for help. But if it isn’t so effective, maybe they should first teach the parents they’re governing what the basis of parenting is, how to give support, and how to love their children, because it does seem that many families never wanted their child in the first place.

That’s only depression though. Let’s get back on track to insanity and mental illnesses.

Often children who are mentally ill are bullied in school and have no power to do anything about it. They don’t know what normal is supposed to be, because they have never experienced it. They think they are abnormal, and they do not know what to do, how to act, and how to think to be normal. They need help. But if they aren’t even acknowledged as mentally ill they are never going to get any.

We all know that mentally ill people need special care and special, dedicated love to help them get better, but we often let “other people” do that and take care of it. When everyone has this mindset, they all ignore the mentally ill person, and they, in the end, don’t get the help they need. Why are we so unwilling to help? Because it takes too much effort, dedication, and there are obviously better people fit for doing the job?

You cannot blame these people for developing mental illnesses and insanity. And that’s why they need special care. But with the growing population with the growing need of special care, obviously not everyone will get it. Why else would there be so many cases of suicide?

That’s why I think that, although it is most probably not possible that everyone will listen, when you see someone who seems like they have mental illnesses or developing insanity, take the initiative and help them yourself. If you feel they deserve help, have a mindset that you can only trust yourself into taking up this task and doing it right. Think that no one else will be able to succeed but you. Maybe you think you might not be suited for the job, but trust that currently, you are the best option the mentally ill person has.

You might be able to change that person’s life for the better when no one else even bothered to try.

#mental illness #depression #help #life #parents

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progressivejudaism · 7 years ago

Note

It's there a link for the faq in mobile? The Tumblr app is not letting me check it out :(

Hiya anon,

I’m not sure! There is a good chance that it is, but it’s hard to find on mobile for some reason. Check it out! http://progressivejudaism.tumblr.com/faqs

Worse case, here is the text of the entire FAQ page as of right now. (Every once in a while I will add a new question or two).

What is Judaism?

Judaism is an ethnoreligion, which can be described as a a people with a rich culture, history, a land, languages (Hebrew, Jewish-Aramaic, Yiddish, Ladino…), literature, and a theology/philosophical tradition.

What is Progressive Judaism? What is Reform Judaism?

Progressive Judaism is an umbrella term that can be used to describe Jews who understand Jewish tradition from a more progressive perspective (note: not all Progressive Jews self-identify as Progressive politically). The World Union for Progressive Judaism (WUPJ) is the ‘international umbrella organization’ for liberal, Reform, Reconstructionist, and Progressive Jewry worldwide.

The Union for Reform Judaism (URJ) is the governing body for North-American Reform Jewry. According to URJ.org, Reform Judaism “maintains faith in the Covenant between God and Israel as expressed over the generations in the teachings of an ever-evolving Torah and tradition. Stirred by the mandate of tikkun olam, Reform Judaism seeks to be the living expression of those teachings. It welcomes all who seek Jewish connection to pursue a life of meaning as inspired by the Divine and proclaimed in the truths grasped by Jewish teachers throughout time.”

Who is considered Jewish?

Jewish identity is an incredibly tricky and charged subject. There are two basic lines of thought in regard to ‘who is’ and ‘who isn’t’ a Jew. According to Orthodox, Conservative, non-North American WUPJ Congregations, and other traditional branches of Judaism: one is Jewish if their biological mother was/is Jewish or if they went through a formal conversion. According to the North American Reform Movement (the URJ), one is a Jew if they have at least one Jewish parent and was raised as a Jew in a Jewish household or through conversion.

I’m not Jewish. Can I follow this blog?

Absolutely. I welcome all people to follow, ask questions, and interact with content!

Is antisemitism still a problem?

Absolutely. Antisemitism mainly exists in far-left and far-right communities. While the far-left typically hides their anti-Jewish hate under the masks of being “anti-Zionist” or “anti-Israel,” the far-right (often connected with white supremicists) often uses insane logic to dehumanize the Jewish people.

How can we combat anti-Semitism?

From our modern perspective, we are living in a truly scary time in our people’s history as anti-Semitism is rising in the United States and around the world. There are many ways that we as Jews can stand up against this bigotry. While it is true that we can fight, punch neo-nazis in the face, and spread our anger at these outrageous offenses… I believe that our first task is to, [paraphrased in the words of Michelle Obama] “go high, when they go low”.

Our sage Elie Wiesel wrote: “I know and I speak from experience, that even in the midst of darkness, it is possible to create light and share warmth with one another; that even on the edge of the abyss, it is possible to dream exalted dreams of compassion; that it is possible to be free and strengthen the ideals of freedom, even within prison walls; that even in exile, friendship becomes an anchor.” (source)

By spreading our warmth, our compassion, friendship and our joy, we can create hope within our communities. When they go low, we must go high. The Jewish people are a special beacon of light throughout the nations and it is our duty to remain moral and upright, even in the face of darkness.

Although at times it seems like the whole world is against us, we need to realize how far we have come and how the power of the modern Jewish experience has over our autonomy and freedoms around the world.

When you say message directly, do you mean send a message to this blog?

Yep! I prefer if people send me a direct message so that we could have a nice conversation.

If anyone ever sees a question that they would like to chat with me about, regardless if you originally asked the question, please feel free to send me a message. I would love to support you.

What is the difference between a ‘shul’ a ‘temple’ and a ‘synagogue’?

Jews pray, study, and dwell in Synagogues (a Greek word which means “meeting place”), and called a (Beit Knesset) בית כנסת in Hebrew. “Shul” is simply the Yiddish translation of Synagogue. “Temple” is another translation of “Synagogue” that was popularized by the early ‘reformers of Judaism’ (reform as a verb, not the contemporary Movement). These early maskilim (adherents to the Jewish Enlightenment) felt that it was important to embrace living in the diaspora, and that longing to return to Israel and rebuild the Temple was silly. They believed wholeheartedly that their Synagogue WAS their own Temple. The term stuck and we are left with three words interchangeable in English-speaking Jewish communities for the same term!

Can one be Jewish and agnostic (or an atheist) at the same time?

Many Jews acknowledge that there is more than one way to understand the inner workings of the universe and how God can or cannot play a part in it. Many agnostic theologies fit very cleanly into Jewish philosophy.

But regardless of that, Judaism is a people with a culture, a history, a land, languages, foods… and we happen to have a religious theology. It is entirely possible to not believe in God and still be a Jew- and an active Jew in the Jewish community!

Someone I know is ill (in the mind, body, or spirit) and/or is going in for surgery and/or is having a rough time. Is there a prayer that I can say for them?

The Mi Shaberach prayer can be said for anyone in your life, including yourself, who you feel needs a healing of mind, body, and/or spirit.

Mi Shebeirach avoteinu v’imoteinu,Avraham, Yitzchak v’Yaakov, Sarah, Rivkah,Rachel v’Lei-ah, hu y’vareich et hacholim[names]. HaKadosh Baruch Hu yimaleirachamim aleihem, l’hachalimam ul’rapotamul’hachazikam, v’yishlach lahem m’heirahr’fuah, r’fuah shleimah min hashamayim,r’fuat hanefesh ur’fuat haguf, hashtabaagala uviz’man kariv. V’nomar: Amen.

May the one who blessed our ancestors, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah, bless and heal those who are ill [names]. May the Blessed Holy One be filled with compassion for their health to be restored and their strength to be revived. May God swiftly send them a complete renewal of body and spirit, and let us say, Amen.

Source

If you would prefer to sing the words (or sing them in addition to reciting this version of the prayer), you can use Debbie Friedman’s version as well.

Are LGBTQA+ folks welcome in Progressive Jewish communities?

Absolutely. As Progressive Jews, we believe that because every human being was created (Betzelem Elohim - in the Image of God) בצלם אלהים (Gn. 1:27), we must treat everyone with the same respect and compassion that we give to God. We recognize the wisdom that scientists and researchers of gender and sexuality have given us in order to enhance our society and thus understand that an individual’s sexuality, romantic identity, gender, and gender expression are individual, given by God, and are intrinsic parts of the human experience. Progressive Jews do indeed believe that LGBTQA+ folks are “born this way.”

In most major movements, LGBTQA+ families are welcomed into the Jewish community with open arms, same sex/gender couples are married, and rabbis and cantors of all genders and sexualities/romantic identities are ordained.

Although Israel has a long way to go in the name of equality (namely in adoption and marriage rights), she is one of the greatest places on earth for LGBTQA+ folks. Beyond holding yearly Miss Trans Israel, and Tel Aviv Pride, legislation often favors the LGBTQA+ community.

In more traditional communities, sexuality and gender identity are charged topics due to two lines in the Torah. If you are interested in learning about my own personal interpretation of the texts, feel free to check THIS out.

I’m not cisgender. What Jewish resources are out there for someone like me?

· Transtorah (which also has some fantastic resources for various genders) and Keshet (general resources for LGBTQ+ folks) are both fantastic resources. Unfortunately, there is not a similar resource for nonbinary folks. Here are two articles that I really like:

· The Six Genders of Classical Judaism

· Gender Diversity in Jewish Tradition

I’m Jewish and I am in a relationship with non-Jew. Are we welcome in Progressive Jewish spaces? Can we get married by a rabbi or cantor?

You and your children are absolutely welcome in most Progressive Synagogues and spaces. Before entering a new community, please contact them beforehand! Due to anti-Semitism across the United States and around the world, Jewish communities must be careful. Many non-Jewish spouses get very involved in Synagogue life!

Many Reform and Reconstructionist clergy will marry a Jew to a non-Jew- but everyone feels slightly different about the practice. For example, many will argue that they will only perform ceremonies for couples who seek to build a Jewish home, based on Jewish values where children will go through Hebrew School and have their Bar or Bat Miztvahs.

Jews and tattoos: what’s the deal?

Can Jews with tattoos be buried in a Jewish cemetery? Although each burial society can make up their own rules, their is nothing inherently written in Jewish law prohibiting it. (Source)

So where did this rumor come from and why are tattoos in Judaism taboo? It derives from the line: “You shall not make any cuts in your body for the dead nor make any tattoo marks on yourselves: I am the LORD.“ (Leviticus 19:28). This pasuk was written among other laws such as shaving and agricultural laws. The Mishneh Torah argues that it was to differentiate the ancient Israelite from Pagan neighbors. The Sifra (Halachic interpretation on Levicius) argues that this law only pertained to the kohanim (ritual priests). But many ancient and medieval scholars (and many contemporary ritually observant scholars) had negative opinions about Jewish tattoos.

But the most important scholar here is you, and how you use the text to understand the narrative (through the lens of other scholars).

For instance, my interpretation of this section of text (which is only my interpretation) is that it was inserted much later than during the time of Moses. These were laws to keep the community cohesive and ultimately to make their perception of God happy. I believe that this line is incredibly important for learning about ourselves, but I do not necessarily believe that it is banning tattoos in 2016, but rather a communal law for ancient Israel.

As Reform Jews, we believe that everyone can make choices based off of the information that they know. I invite you to dive deeper into this issue.

For instance, there is a wonderful understanding that one should only get a tattoo if it makes them feel whole, such as this incredible breast cancer survivor in this article. The author of *this* article, a rabbi from Texas, has the shema and v’ahavta tattood around his arm like t’fillin and has a very interesting point of view. And *this* is another fascinating understanding of a positive view on tattoos in Judaism from another rabbi.

Marijuana and Judaism: what do Reform/Progressive Jews believe?

The CCAR as of this moment has only made decrees regarding medical marijuana. For example in the “Resolution of the Medical Use of Marijuana,” the rabbis (and the Women for Reform Judaism) overwhelmingly taut the benefits of medical marijuana. This article from Reform Judaism Magazine might be of interest to you as well about its use from the perspective of a Jewish doctor.

Reform Jews believe that all should be done to remove one’s pain or illness (may that be physical or psychological), but that we should not take advantage of drugs that we do not need.

How do Reform Jews feel about sex before marriage?

Obviously a contentious issue, we can see the evolution of Reform Jewish thought throughout time via the CCAR Responsas (many are linked here, i highly recomend skimming through them!)

Some of the earliest rabbinic responsa are from the 1970s and 1980s. In “Jewish Attitude Towards Sexual Relations Between Consenting Adults,“ the rabbis prohibit casual sexual relationships and make mention that those who are engaged (to be married) probably also should not engage in sexual intimacy (personally, I think that this is left vague for a reason).

A few years later in 1984, a fascinating study appeared regarding the language on a ketuba (Jewish wedding contract) referring to the bride as a “virgin” (although she may or may not be a virgin) in “Virginity and the Ketuba”. The rabbis rule that this is an archaic wording choice and that “it would be wise either to refrain from any kind of designation of status for the woman in the ketubah“. Ultimately, the rabbis understood that not all couples are virgins on their wedding night.

In the responsa: “Long-Term, Non-Marital Relationships,” the rabbis argue flat out that “marriage should be the goal for our sexuality” because “it is within marriage that the sexual union finds its true home of kedushah” (holiness). Although the rabbis are not condemning premarital sex, in this instance they argue its aid in creating a marriage.

The latest responsa regarding sexuality (similar to the examples above) comes in the form of the Reform Movement’s commitment to Sex Education in the “Resolution on Sex Education” in 2001. Again, it does not condemn premarital sex, but encourages comprehensive sex education.

Ultimately, it seems to me that the CCAR promotes healthy relationships between couples. Although they do not condemn premarital sex in the later responsas, one can infer that they are hoping to form positive Jewish relationships that will become marriages.

Is evolution combatable with Judaism?

Absolutely! Although some more traditional Jews would disagree, I firmly believe that God can only fit within a framework that includes scientific discovery. Evolution and the Big Bang Theory fit very cleanly into my own theology as I do not believe that the entire Torah was “from Sinai,” thus not entirely Divine. We have too much evidence that suggests that the Torah was written by various human sources.

That isn’t to say that there aren’t certain Divine sections. But who is to say which sections were or weren’t written by God?

Our Creation accounts (Genesis 1 and 2) are extremely important as teaching tools, but not necessarily as accurate scientific understandings of the creation of the world. These two accounts were most likely, originally oral stories that taught people how the world functioned, for example why snakes slither and have a split tongue.

Our ancestors were so curious about how the world was created and functioned on a daily basis. It is incredible that now we are still trying to understand the origins of life and the universe and that we can continue their vision of understanding how it all works.

What is Zionism? What is Progressive Zionism?

Zionism is the desire for the Jewish people to have peaceful, sovereignty and/or autonomy in their historic, ancient homeland. Zionism is an ancient tradition that lives in Jewish liturgy and literature that only became a reality for the Jewish people in the 18th - 20th centuries. Zionism can be considered a political force, a social force and/or a religious force.

Just like there are many ways to understand various political issues in any country, there is a spectrum of what it means to be a Zionist in the 21st century. From radical left-wing, right-wing to centrist opinions, there is a tangled political web of different ideas regarding Israeli politics just like those that exist in other countries.

Isn’t Zionism racist?

It is not racist to argue for the existence of a Jewish State with a Jewish majority, with laws based on Jewish values, and where holidays and Shabbat are honored. It is an antisemitic statement to argue any different.

But that being said, it is important that we continue to use our voices against the furthering of the Occupation. It is clear that we have two nations living in Israel/Palestine. One could very easily argue that ethnic cleansing is a tremendous component to the Occupation- and the rhetoric that claims that Israel has the sovereign right to the entire land mass is troubling for the future of the Palestinians, the Democratic character of Israel, and the destruction of Jewish values in the Jewish State. Although Israel does need to defend herself against terror and bigotry, it is important that we reach a solid solution. The only solution is some form of a two-state solution. But to get there, we have a lot of work to do.

Zionism is not racist because the Jewish people deserve sovereign control in their historic homeland, just like the Germans, the French and the Turks all have sovereignty in their historic homelands. The Palestinians ALSO deserve that same dignity. The core tenet of Zionism (being free in our homeland) must be extended to our Palestinian brothers and sisters.

There are many paths to peace and several end solutions, but my favorite solution is the Confederation model. It is not a true one-state nor two-state solution AND its building blocks require Israelis and Palestinians to find common grounding and humility in one another.

How does one deal with people that argue that Israel does not have a right to exist and that they stole land from Palestinians?

This is an incredibly important issue that I have a lot of trouble with. For me, I see two options to your question:

1. Prove Israel’s right to exist using historical information. Explain to them how the destruction of the 1st Temple (586 BCE), the 2nd Temple (70 CE) and the final expulsion following the Bar Kochba Rebellion (135 CE) transformed Jewish life. Describe various persecutions throughout our history in the diaspora and our longing to return to our ancient homeland so that we could live a peaceful life. Discuss how the early immigrants to the Yeshuv purchased land from Ottoman landowners in swampy, infertile areas.

But don’t lie about issues on both sides of the “Conflict” and be extremely transparent about how you feel about the issues and beautiful accomplishments of both sides.

But I warn you: this option can be dangerous. Sadly, there are people on both sides of the Conflict who are very extreme in their views. For instance, there are some people who only look to the American media (which usually poorly describes the conflict) and view Israel as horrific people. There are so many arrogant people in the world who do not understand the plight of the Jews or the history of the State of Israel. But on the other side of the coin, there are those who want to build the Third Temple on the Temple Mount, thus destroying Muslim Holy Sites. There are those that want there to be a 1-State solution resulting in the displacement of the entire Palestinian population living in Israel, the West Bank and Gaza or a 1-State solution resulting in the displacement of the entirety of Israel.

There are extremes on both sides that are very scary.

2. This option is the more difficult one, but it is the one in which you stay out of the conversation because your spirit is more important than their ignorance. But for some people who are extreme, this may have to be the answer unfortunately.

Why is learning Hebrew important? Where can I learn Hebrew?

Hebrew is the ancient language of the Jewish people. Not only is it a language of the State of Israel, but also the Hebrew Bible, Jewish prayer and much of Jewish literature. Once you begin learning Hebrew, you begin to unlock the meaning behind who we are as a people.

· How to learn Hebrew (MyJewishLearning)

Beginner

· Hebrew letter chart

· Learning how to write the Hebrew Alphabet

· Cartoon Hebrew Letters (fun resource for learning your letters)

· Hebrew vowels

· Learn how to read Hebrew online

· The Aleph Beit Song (Debbie Friedman)

Advanced

· Duolingo now has Hebrew!

· Hebrew Learning Masterpost

What is Birthright and how can I sign up?

Birthright is a free, 10-day trip to Israel for young adults between the ages of 18 and 26. On the trip, participants have a chance to explore the country while also understanding their Jewish identities as emerging Jewish adults. Almost all Birthright trips go to the following locations: the Old City of Jerusalem and the Western Wall, Yad Vashem- Israel’s memorial of the Holocaust, Tel Aviv, the Mystical City of Tzfat, Masada, and the Golan Heights.

Participants for Birthright trips must have at least one Jewish birth parent, was raised Jewish or must have had a formal conversion through one of the major Jewish denominations.

According to their website:

The Birthright Israel gift is open to all Jewish* young adults, ages 18 to 26 who have not participated on a peer educational trip since they turned 18 nor lived in Israel past the age of 12.*Eligible individuals are those who identify as Jewish and are recognized as such by their local community or by one of the recognized denominations of Judaism. Applicants must also have at least one Jewish birth parent, or have completed Jewish conversion through a recognized Jewish denomination. PLEASE NOTE: Those applying for trips leaving from the Former Soviet Union are eligible if they have at least one Jewish birth grandparent. The accuracy of information pertaining to the heritage of an applicant for a trip leaving from the Former Soviet Union is also verified by a local Consul before an applicant is considered eligible.

If you would like to read some more Frequently Asked Questions, please feel free to check this page out.

What expenses does Birthright cover?

Birthright covers everything: a round-trip flight, two meals per day, museum fees etc.

The real question is: what do will you need to pay for? (btw it is all completely worth it!

There is a $250 refundable deposit (upon return to the states)

You will have to pay for 1 meal per day (typically around $10-$15). The only exception is on Shabbat.

Money for souvenirs

Money for snacks and extra food

Can converts take advantage of Birthright?

Yep! Assuming they have finished their conversion by the trip and are between the ages of 18-26, a Jew-by-Choice is eligible!

I’m thinking about conversion. Where do I begin?

Before contacting a rabbi, I would personally explore and learn as much as you can. One of the best books on conversion is: “Choosing a Jewish Life” by Anita Diamant. There are several free resources online that I highly recommend checking out as well (below). As always, please feel free to ask me as many questions as you might have.

· “10 Things to Know Before Conversion”

· Some recommended reading

· “Branches of Judaism”

· “A Brief History of the Jewish People”

· How to pick a Hebrew name

· When can I call myself a Jew?

· How do I convert officially?

· What does a Rabbi expect a convert to know before converting?

· There isn’t a Synagogue near me, what do I do?

· What is Reform Judaism?

· “What to Expect at a Reform Shabbat Service”

· A non-Jew attending Shabbat Services

· Various advice on Conversion

· How can I convert if I don’t agree with the government of Israel?

· LGBTQ people in the Reform Movement

· Conversion for a non-binary person

If you send me a direct message, I would love to help you further with locating a Synagogue to begin conversations with a rabbi or cantor who can help guide you.

Are Jewish communities welcoming to converts?

Absolutely. Not only are we welcoming, but we do not see a difference between a person born a Jew and a person who converted. If anything, we are in awe of the passion and love for Judaism that our convert friends have!

About how long does it take to convert?

Although every community is different, it will typically take someone anywhere between a year and two years in the Progressive world.

Where can I learn about the different branches of Judaism?

 Modern Orthodox (The Orthodox Union)

 Conservative Judaism (The United Synagogue for Conservative Judaism)

 Reconstructionist Judaism

 Reform Judaism (The Union for Reform Judaism)

The World Union for Progressive Judaism (representing all Reform and Reconstructionist Congregations around the world)

“ReformJudaism.org” is a fabulous resource

Religious Action Center, the “social justice hub” of the Reform Movement

 Humanistic Judaism

 Jewish Renewal

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theroyalwords · 8 years ago

Text

Teen Olympians, Chapter 28

-Artemis-

It took a long time for Artemis to realize how fate worked.

It came with the territory of being an immortal. As much as she detested the whole notion, she'd learned the hard way that there are just some things even the gods could not change. Some things couldn't be explained. Granted, there wasn't much. One of the things she never understood was the oracles. It was part of the chaos, the magic, of the world. They were closely tied to the design, seeing all the possibilities that could be, along with the ones that would never change.

Artemis was still trying to understand the girl, especially now that she knew more about her.

Cassia stood at the bar in the kitchen, looking uncomfortable under Artemis's gaze. Orion stood between them, concern marking his brow. It might have been perfectly normal for people to wake up at this ungodly hour on a Sunday, but the harried voices, the tension and concern in which she could hear them speak, did nothing to calm her. She promptly got out of bed to see what the hell was so important to wake her up when she walked in on the three of them discussing this girl's hair brained scheme over breakfast, of all things. Her family wasn't due to arrive until this afternoon, so she fully intended on spending the morning being lazy. Not that she didn't enjoy a good hunting discussion, but this was madness. Orion would want to help her, which would only get him killed faster. She didn't forgive the idiot just for him to die before he had too! It didn't matter what the girl had seen. There was no way in Hades she was letting Orion go on a quest that would end in his premature death.

"It's suicidal," she snapped. "Stealing from a goddess is never a good idea." Cas shrank at the iciness in her tone, towards Apollo. He playfully bumped into her, trying to ease the tension.

"She's not going to kill you, Cas," he explained. Cas quickly glanced at Artemis while biting her lip.

"He's right, you know. I'm still deciding if you are useful enough to keep around."

"Or until you temper gets the best of you," Cas countered. She opened her mouth to add something else before quickly shutting it.

"Her temper?" Apollo questioned. Cas reluctantly nodded her head.

"I mean no disrespect, my lady," she offered as she turned back towards Artemis. "It's just that, um, in some futures, you do kill me."

"Really?" Artemis mused. "Well, since you are a being of forethought, I would assume you would have the intelligence to avoid the situations that end in your death."

"I try," she offered before stealing a quick glance at Orion.

"It's not that simple, Artemis, and you know it," her brother huffed. Artemis simply rolled her eyes.

"Fate, grand design, yadda, yadda, blah, blah, blah. Whatever. It doesn't take a genius or an oracle to see that this plan is doomed from the start." Yes, some things were meant to be. She had an eerie feeling that this girl appeared in their lives at the right time for the right moment. She didn't feel any particular ill will towards the girl. In fact, she intended on helping her brother free her from the curse. Artemis just wanted to make sure that Orion didn't die before he had to.

"It was just an outline," Orion countered. "It's not like we are going to walk into the Egyptian fortress with a t-shirt that says, 'We are here to steal your book.' We were just talking, Artemis."

"Really, because that's exactly what it sounded like to me! And a damned book, for Hades' sake, will not fix your problem."

"I believe this book will. It contains some of the oldest and most powerful spells known to the universe. I can clarify some of the specifics if you like?" Cas supplied. "It may be the solution I need, but I'm still figuring out the best way to obtain it. We'd really just started discussing it, and I'd love to have your strategic input as a goddess. After all, you are the ultimate hunter, and it is extremely rare that you are denied your prey."

"Hasn't happened yet." Artemis smiled, a chilling one that promised death and pain should anyone cross her. She had to admit, the girl knew her way with immortals. She offered the right amount of flattery. Cas's gaze was steady, unrelenting. She'd stand her ground, no matter what Artemis threatened her with. That was something she respected about her. "So your solution is to steal something of the Egyptians? What book, exactly, do you want to steal?"

"The book of Tope," Orion answered.

"Thoth," Cas corrected.

"That's what I said!"

"The god of intelligence?" Artemis clarified. It'd been a while since she'd interacted at all with the Egyptian pantheon. They usually made a point to stay out of each other's business. They were too obsessed with their spells for her taste.

"Yes. Although, I think he may lack some common sense."

"I wouldn't let him here you say that," Apollo mused with a grin. Cas smiled back at him.

"He would probably agree with me now." Cas frowned. "That is, if he doesn't kill me first. I die at his hands just as much as your sister's."

"What did you do?" Orion spurted.

"I did what I was told to do," she countered. "I didn't purposely pick a fight with him! He's nice enough, I suppose. Not my fault that he had this insane idea to write down all of the mysteries and knowledge of the world so that it could be used for future teaching. All he wanted was proof that he does, in fact, know everything."

"Mysteries of the world? Like what specifically?" Apollo asked warily.

"Everything. And I mean, everything. There is the usual stuff, like burial rights, rules of humanity and conscience, how empires should be run, laws of nature, etc. He didn't stop there. There were entries about magic and power that created the world, ways to exploit the weaknesses of immortals. Basically, some pretty nasty stuff that would be disastrous in the hands of the wrong person, which is why Isis hired me to steal it."

"What makes it any better in her hands?"

"It doesn't, really, except that she would make sure no one could use it but her. Thoth tends to be a little, um, scatterbrained?" She laughed a little at that. "He gets easily distracted because there's so much going on up there." Cas tapped her temple. "Set was sneaking in, getting little peeks of things he definitely doesn't need to know about and was using it to his advantage. From what I gathered, he exploited some info that almost caused the end of the world a few years ago. She and her son, Horus, demanded that Thoth give it up, but he refused, because it was his book, his baby, I believe was the endearment he used. While I think Thoth would be more honest in its use, she was the lesser of the evils at the time. I think she eventually plans on giving it back, at least from what I've seen. Probably to teach him a lesson to keep his more dangerous toys out of the wrong hands and actually apply that intelligence he boasts about so much."

"I highly doubt that. How can you possibly know a goddess's motives? It's not like you are an oracle or something," Orion chided her. "Artemis is right."

Cas's face immediately fell before she looked down at her mug, sorrow overtaking her features. Artemis had to admit, whatever tiny portion of compassion she retained in her immortal soul felt for the girl. It was a wonder she wasn't more damaged than she already was, constantly being put down and disregarded. This curse was her and Apollo's responsibility to fix. Artemis sent a tiny zap of power into Orion, making him jump and yelp.

"Ouch! What was that for!?"

"A reminder. Orion, she is an Oracle. Remember, the whole cursed thing? She sees the future."

"Oh…right. You're cursed?" he asked Cas in clarification. She smiled grimly before exposing the top of her shoulder.

"Fifteen years and counting."

"Back to the topic at hand. This is all well and good, but I still don't understand how this will help," Artemis mused. "How will this book fix things? Are you going to use it for leverage? Trade your freedom for the book?"

"Well, not exactly. Now that my name is out, all the nasties that I stole from and tricked know who I am. Isis may not swing the sword, but she effectively gave everyone free rein to kill me. Without her protection, the threat of her retribution, there's no way that I'll be alive for long. It's only a matter of time before my luck runs out."

"She can't be reasoned with?"

"Um, trying to reason her will not go over well. I mean, she might can be, eventually, when she calms down, but how would you react if you thought someone close to you, a supposedly loyal servant, betrayed you to your rivals?"

"I'd wonder who else you were talking to," Apollo admitted.

"And eliminate the threat before it became one," Artemis added.

Cas nodded her head. "I need leverage. And there's a spell in that book that will give me one. Having that in my arsenal will keep Set and any other Egyptian immortal that values their existence far away from me."

"And that is-?" Artemis began.

"A spell to scatter the essence of an Egyptian immortal. I think you all used something similar with Kronos, but I'm not an expert."

"That's a pretty bold move," Artemis noted. "And why don't they have it already?"

"I have to give Thoth some credit here. See, from what I understand, unlike the other pantheons, they don't really have demigod children. I don't know the specifics nor care to do so, but they use descendants of their Pharaohs or whatever to unleash their will upon the world. Anyways, that spell, created by Chaos itself, can only be read with mortal eyes. Thoth put it in there to keep it safe. The book hasn't been in mortal hands in thousands of years. So yeah, that's why I want to steal that book, and it's the only possibility I see where I don't die."

"It would be a definitive solution, I'll give you that. Still an insane attempt to try it. Do you have a plan or any idea on how to do that?" Artemis questioned.

"Nope. Haven't really had time to research or experiment with my parents disowning me and avoiding death at every turn. Good news? I helped put it where it is. Isis doesn't know that I know of the spell, so I have a slight advantage there."

"That's something to handle tomorrow. Today, we need to deal with the family," Apollo responded. Cas grimaced and laid her hand down on the table. "Not excited to explain things to your grandfather?"

"Ugh, don't say that. All of this is weird enough."

"Please tell me you are not her grandfather!" Orion stuttered. Both Cas and Apollo looked absolutely appalled.

"Gods, no!" Cas snorted.

"Absolutely not!" Apollo yelped.

"Hermes, right?" Artemis pondered. "Well, Mercury, I guess, since your parents were Roman demigods."

"Yeah, he was my Mother's father. My dad is a child of Bellona."

"Interesting combination," Artemis noted. War with the talent of thieves? No wonder she was recruited at such a young age. She'd make a good hunter, for sure, but something told Artemis that her brother would be displeased with that.

Cas's gaze seemed to fog for a second before she rubbed her head. "Athena will be here earlier than expected. She wants answers."

"Of course she does," Apollo grumbled. "Probably already has about fifty different plans laid out."

"More like six, but, yeah she does," Cas said, her tone patient and understanding. However, there was a frown on her face, her eyes narrowed in confusion. "I'm going to get a shower." She downed the last of her coffee before disappearing.

Orion turned to Artemis, probably to ask about using her shower, and she waved her hand half-heartedly. Orion offered her a wink before striding down the hall. She waited until she heard the door to her room open and close before she turned to Apollo. He was sipping on his coffee, gazing out the window with a contemplative look on his face.

"It'll get stuck like that," Artemis teased him. He gave no response other than taking another sip. "Are you mad at me now or something?"

"No," he ventured. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"Everything." His whispered words were soft, full of regret. He turned to her, his normally sky blue eyes a few shades darker than normal. "I need your help with this, Artemis. I want to set things right, to help her. I know we can't interfere much, but I have to find a way to fix this."

"Have you thought of going to Isis yourself?" Artemis wondered.

"It'll only bring it to father's knowledge, from what Cas has seen," Apollo explained with a deep sigh. "Wasn't worth the risk, as she put it. The poor girl is trying to keep us out of trouble, too."

"Her burdens are heavy," Artemis said.

"Heavier than they ever should have been."

"Do you trust her, brother?" Not that Artemis didn't believe the girl, but they'd been down this road before. It'd been millennia since mortals were so close in their affairs. The last time ended in the Trojan War. Was history repeating itself, their follies coming back to bite them in the ass, just like last time?

"Unequivocally."

Artemis nodded her head. "She knew I would meet Orion again. She knew how much it would mean to us. " It felt like a betrayal, whispering those words, admitting the depth of her feeling for the mortal hunter. If there was anyone in the world she could admit it to, it was her brother.

"I know you worry for him, but trust that the last thing Cas wants is for him to get hurt. You don't have to be so goddessy with her."

"She could get him killed," Artemis countered. Obviously, they were close enough that Orion wouldn't let her do this alone.

"Cas wouldn't let anyone harm a single hair on his head. She's done a lot more for him than you can possibly imagine," Apollo added. Before Artemis could ask, her brother vanished, leaving her alone in the kitchen.

Hope you enjoyed! :) Sorry it has been so long!

Thank you for sticking with me! Please reblog, if you feel like it.

#teen olympians #my writing #pjo fanfiction #pjo au #ortemis

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