#on the subject of my horrendous father in law

[twooowars]

if there is a hell i KNOW my father in law is going there when he dies. where the fuck do i even begin? this story will just Have to exclude little details. there is so very very much and it's been transpiring over the course of a few years.

so this dude is a manipulative, abusive, useless, garbage piece of shit whose gaslighting bullshit started decades ago. i won't go too in depth on this part bc i dont want to overshare someone else's information but there will be parts of this story where you may think jesus christ, how is this still going on? buddy i ask myself the same kinds of questions but let ye who has a healthy relationship with your parents cast the first stone. the context needed to have sympathy here is that this is a Long LONG complex situation that we're talking about. for a Bit if background, my partner didnt see or hear from his father between 2015 and 2019. so. take that as you will going forward.

it started about 3 years ago when a series of careless decisions left Me (somehow one of the most level-headed people involved!!!!! if you can imagine!!!!!!!) in possession of literal decades worth of my father in law's hoarded shit. being a hoarder is not a moral failing, but deciding to get rid of the stuff and pawning it all off on your son and his partner is Annoying to say the very fucking least. this was obnoxious but i thought At Most that it was a shitty but temporary situation.

WRONG

he expected us to hold on to it until he was ready to have it back. my partner being Too Patient and Honestly The Real Victim Here for having this man as a father chose to honour this wish. as you can imagine this inch became a mile quickly.

he started demanding to crash on the couch, threatening suicide and claiming domestic violence and things of that nature. i cant confirm or deny the domestic violence allegations but i will say that he has made these claims everywhere he has ever lived. this turned very quickly into him manipulating my partner into letting him move in with us. i knew it would go horribly but my hands were sort of tied (knew FIL could and would use any excuse to isolate partner from his loved ones so ive been treading the Bad Guy line very carefully here). i should also point out that FIL's girlfriend at the time was His Perfect Equal in every way and so my partner was biased towards hating her more, as she was someone he had just met.

immediately i had problems living with him. i have Always hated him because he used to misgender me constantly, so i should state this bias now. he seems to view me through a lens that is transphobic, homophobic and misogynistic all at once - that is to say, he believes i should be responsible for all the housework, and that i should listen to his every word and meet his every demand without complaint. it started out with him talking at me Constantly. i don't mean we were conversing, i mean that this man would sit behind me while i did chores and tell stories about pranks he used to pull in the 80s all day, getting annoyed if i tried to change the topic. throughout the course of these stories it became constantly clearer and clearer to me that he was absolutely an irredeemable piece of shit. to put it bluntly, almost all his stories put him in a bad light and he didnt seem to realise at all. he started to get really annoyed with me in general for not laughing at his bullshit, challenging his constant use of racial slurs, and not appreciating the homophobic comments he made about me on a daily basis. (i know you read "homophobic" and "use of slurs" and now you have a burning question, so i will answer; yes he Does call me a faggot). he quickly became my number 1 sworn enemy. to be extremely clear, yes, the fact that he is sitting and watching housework be done does mean he doesnt do any himself. he has outright stated that he thinks i should be obligated to take care of him. we'll return to this point. fucking trust me.

by this point in the story you're wondering why my partner has not kicked him out of the house. i KNOW. but it does become more complicated when you realise that at the time my partner was working 11 hour shifts every day and FIL was a completely different guy around him. still obnoxious and a bit arrogant, but nowhere near the human waste i had come to know. it started to get to the point where i was furiously angry at this dude 24/7 but my partner had never seen him do more than make an out of touch joke. this is the part where i say something vague about how i have mental health issues that i dont want to air out, but suffice to say that making me look paranoid and reactive is Not a hard task.

one night while i was doing dishes, i stopped to use the bathroom and FIL broke 3 of my wine glasses while i was gone. a gigantic fight ensued where he attempted to convince me i had actually broken them myself and my partner walked in on this happening. this is when i first thought the tides would turn and things would get better. partner atarted to see the issues but wanted to give him the chance to change. at this point he is still under the impression that his dad is someone who is perpetually down on his luck, who has had a difficult life and has been mistreated by everyone around him. basically is treating him like a shelter dog who is lashing out but still good at heart. he hasnt heard the same stories yet as i have of the guy who has had everything in his life handed to him for free, but is such a dickhead that he has fucked over everyone who ever tried to help him and fucked himself doubly in the process. after a certain point it started to wear on our ability to spend time together when i was constantly complaining about his dad instead of talking to him about literally anything else, so i honestly started to carry this on my own for a bit.

anyway, it becomes one of those "sit him down" situations. to remind you, this is a borderline senior citizen and not a toddler. they set out a timeline for him to stop drinking so heavily (alcoholism is also not a moral failing but it does have consequences for the people around you, so i get why he thought this would help) and as it became more and more obvious to my partner that his dad was not actually aiming to reach Any of these goals and had Zero respect for his boundaries, we set up our own little secret timeline for me to get a job so we could afford to move again. (i do have a job rn but i am often unemployed due to uhhh Obvious Reasons). so, things are going well yes? the veneer is cracking, he is proving himself selfish and unreliable. this should be about where it ends, yes?

WRONG

MIL passed extremely suddenly last july. the relationship there is somehow even more complex than this one so i won't even go into it, but we'll just say that this Fucked my partner up mentally very badly. he had a lot of trauma open back up and suddenly became very invested in fixing his relationships with his family members. i have never had to process grief on this level so i cant judge it. he decided to give his dad one more chance and for a little while i tried to be cool with this.

the relationship between FIL and i continued to deteriorate. after the wine glass fiasco i literally have refused to speak to him. this has not changed in about a year. i Hate this man more than i can say and my life is better for not interacting with him. i digress. me ignoring him becomes very Very contentious around the house, again it seems like i am the one Causing the majority of household tension because i am the most reactive to it. this sucks shit but is usually how things go when you are prone to being overemotional. a massive argument ensues between my partner and i where we eventually come to the decision that i will move out for a few months until our lease naturally ends. we obviously didnt break up or i would have referred to him as my ex at some point but i knew removing the buffer would make him see that his dad is a pure shithead. i dont know where else to interject this but the dude has also stolen a total of 26 full packs of cigarettes from me and this alone warrants the death penalty.

so. let's talk about the last 5 months, shall we?

turns out this dude was somehow putting on airs on my behalf. all of his behaviour immediately got more extreme because he felt like he had won. the buzzkill faggot (his words) was gone and he could really cut loose. cutting loose involved such choices as

leaving strangers in the house unattended for hours, resulting in theft on multiple occasions totalling thousands

physically removing important pieces from the shower (the knobs, mainly) whenever i visit and forgetting where he's hidden them so that no one can shower for days

continuing to refuse housework despite the fact there is one less person in the house now to help out and the house is in a neighbourhood with roaches

smoking in the house (we have a pet)

allowing strangers to smoke meth in the house (once again smoking meth is not a moral failing but to reiterate we do have a pet and she is just Two Inch Large)

turning heaters off and even opening windows in the dead of winter (i cant see this one as anything but an outright attempt to kill the mouse as even he ends up walking around in a coat and hat inside when he does this)

taking my partner's food out of the freezer and leaving it out on the counters all day long to replace it with his own shit (which he will not eat, he eats out every day because he cant cook)

tripling down on the racist shit

... and more!

not only did he do all of these things but at some point he has managed to blame every single one of these actions on me. he literally outright said that he doesn't do housework because i should be coming over and doing it. to be clear I HAVE BEEN STAYING WITH FRIENDS AND RELATIVES FOR THE PAST 6 MONTHS. at this point youre Really thinking "you've kicked him out, right?" and im pleased to report that we have. but the story is still not over because the cockroach refuses to die and the entire house is filled with his shit. (remember his shit from the beginning? yeah.) he has been given a firm date he Has to leave by but until then we're still dealing with this nightmare human (in my opinion, we should have just thrown his shit to the side of the road, but im trying to be Calm Guy lately). he's reacting to being kicked out by throwing a number of temper tantrums each day, making sure his schedule is Unknowable, and insulting everyone around him at every possible opportunity. also, doing all the same shit that everyone has been mad at him for for decades and continuing somehow to blame it on Me.

so, where does this leave us? well, at the moment we are trying to finalize our next steps. we do actually have a bit longer on this lease than we've led him to believe, so we have until the fall to sort this out. to be honest it is much easier and calmer knowing that i dont have to consider this horrible man or his shit this time. as for where he's going to put it all, i don't know and i dont care. if he chooses to leave without taking it and ditch it all on us, in our neighbourhood i promise you it will all last 3 hours max on the roadside.

im annoyed, angry, and frustrated that all of this happened. but moreso than anything i am so fucking pleased to say that i think i am Finally rid of my father in law. praise be to the unknown cyber being.

there is more to this story, more details of provable lies he's told, more offensive obnoxious and downright horrible shit he has said to me and about me as well as to and about others, the kleptomania, the fact that he has been trying to make me act as his secretary in addition to all of this and file government paperwork on his behalf, the fact he has been pretending he once slept with my mother since 1986, the list goes on so far and so deep that i couldnt possibly write it all down here. but, this is the abridged version of my personal nightmare in-law story. if you read it i hope you hate him as much as i do.

[seahgreenhorn]

(via Marching On. . . 21st Century Love During a Time of Violence: Wayne & Sabrina (25))

<a href="https://allpoetry.com/poem/17290601-Marching-On.-.-.-21st-Century-Love-During-a-Time-of-Violence--Way-by-Seah-Ray">https://allpoetry.com/poem/17290601-Marching-On.-.-.-21st-Century-Love-During-a-Time-of-Violence--Way-by-Seah-Ray</a>

As Sabrina leaned upon the old wooden door after Wayne had just exited minutes before

she turned to look upon her mother on the top of the hallway steps

rising

not hiding in her eyes

a sad look of utter abhor...

<b>Snake Envy</b> <a href="https://allpoetry.com/story/16577476-Snake-Envy-by-Seah-Ray">https://allpoetry.com/story/16577476-Snake-Envy-by-Seah-Ray</a>

Toxic envy

snakes backwards

heart to mind.

Victims-- kid to king.

Antidote:

Love with kind-- ness.

These simple words Sabrina desired her mother, Kim,

to gather to heart and bear in mind when thinking upon Wayne, lately weak in spine.

Sabrina decided to sit and sip a cup of green tea and read today's text in contemplation.

For it touched on a subject global.

A lack of application of this principle causing mankind abject misery:

<b>"Stop judging that you may not be judged;

for with the judgment you are judging, you will be judged.​" </b> Matt. 7:1, 2.

Sabrina gazed at limbs of a tree waving beautifully in their backyard. But thought upon the verse hard:

<i>Is not 'passing judgment' asinine?</i>

Yet, we are all guilty of it, at one time or another.

As if our standards are above those of our kindred sisters and brothers.

Imperfect we all are. Death not distant from each, by far.

Yet, we leave the door of judgment ajar.

Wide enough so that superiority, hatred, even, lack of patience enters to stay.

To become 'racist', 'fascist', emotionally afar off from each other as each star is:

<b>"The glory of the sun is one sort, and the glory of the moon is another,

and the glory of the stars is another;

<i>in fact, one star differs from another star in glory.</i></b>" 1 Cor. 15:41.

Yet, our Father, loves each of us as unique as we are... Recommended,

today and forever:

<b>"Draw close to God, and he will draw close to you.

Cleanse your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you indecisive ones.

Give way to misery and mourn and weep."</b>

<b>"“Yet even now,” declares Jehovah, “return to me with all your hearts,

With fasting and weeping and wailing."</b> Joel 2:12.

<b>"Let your laughter be turned into mourning, and your joy into despair.

<i>Humble yourselves in the eyes of Jehovah, and he will exalt you.</i>

Stop speaking against one another, brothers."</b> Sabrina continued to read:

<b>"Whoever speaks against a brother or judges his brother speaks against law and judges law.

Now if you judge law, you are not a doer of law but a judge.

<i>There is only one who is Lawgiver and Judge, the one who is able to save and to destroy.</i>

But you, <i>who are you to be judging your neighbor?</i></b>" James 4:8-12.

Mercy and loving-kindness are qualities that we must perpetually explore...

Sabrina set down her cup and saucer, bowed her head,

and prayed for herself, her mother, Wayne, and others harder than she had prayed before...<b>TO BE CONT'D</b>

<b>Or, So It Seems</b> <a href="https://allpoetry.com/poem/16930806-Or--So-It-Seems--Renewed--by-Seah-Ray">https://allpoetry.com/poem/16930806-Or--So-It-Seems--Renewed--by-Seah-Ray</a>

I dipped its weathered tip in blackest ink

as morning sank

red, purple, and blue, a flash of pink

while thoughts swirled in a whirlwind 'think' behind my mind's eye

a rapid 'blink'

envisioning an expansive reinvigorating scene

begun centuries back spliced between tranquility and global war.

Blown away

peace.

Scattered on a shattered track.

Iron and clay moistened suddenly splattered flat.

Though, contrived to re-figure mankind's form:

Well-rounded. Flattering. In some common vernacular

'becoming'--phat.

Around our globe hatred flung as in a sling

although, also, spitefully to offenders--

boomeranged.

When first started love was only seen.

Offered in bountiful gardens displayed, among animals, and to human beings.

Then a snake spoke bold. A liar, mean.

Destroyed souls; selfishness sprung.

Then came 'redeem': A ransom won for humanity.

Paid.

Life for life given by generous means. Sinfulness 'forgiven'.

Man to be again at peace with all men; no more a reason for vicious beasts.

I paint this picture to create a portrait of paradise and a life of ease.

This worthwhile vision to thankfully relate:

An end to horrendous travesty.

Of races united. Singing in harmony.

Of nations, one. In unity.

A Sovereign Ruler and His <i>appointed</i> King...

I began this trek,

this dream dreamt so long ago. In joy to stream until today.

Even still for it more so now I pray.

As years flew by like a gymnast's rain-bowed ribbon whipping through stifling electrified air

as a silken thread skillfully driven

through global periods of anxious scare

as beauteous beams of colored hues cause us to pause and give to beauty an appreciative stare

until reality into our reveries

bursts forth in screams...

Or, so it seems... Yes... So it seems.

But my purpose is joyously to state

of eternity and of glorious life-giving springs.

Of universal spirituality...

The time has flown. Truth birthed strong wings to fly forth to now:

The foretold long-awaited 'last days' of a wicked

system of things.

[katerinaaqu]

From my page? Hehe yeah right hahaha 😆

Yes the essence of hunger that can make people lose the sense of what is right what is wrong, what is ethical and what is shameful has been touched many times in the poem, especially in these parts I mention in this analysis.

Oh cannibalism in any shape or form was considered indeed something inhuman and unethical in the western world but there are some periods of time when desperate situations called for desperate measures for example periods of famine in Europe where cannibalism was generalized due to the lack of nutrition or in ships caught up in one place for too long or even shipwrecks. There was even a tradition at around 18th century that spoke on the right to choose among volunteers who would die to feed the survivors if the party also agreed on it and that was considered a pass for legal system because it recognized the desperate situations. There was a trial once that was done upon the matter and of course we have the latest example with the plane crush that also was a thought provoking and horrendous example. Coincidentally for this subject I made another post (not an analysis yet just a small thought provoking question)

I would say we can detect two types of what we would call "savagery" in the Odyssey; the one concerning cognitive creatures and the other the savagery of creatures that have no humanity which is also side by side with the savagery of nature. The one you mention has to do with creatures that have human intelligence such as the Cyclops or the Laestrygonians which are measured by the custom of humanity and the laws of gods one of them being Xenia. I have replied before on another person on that, that the law of Xenia in Homer is kinda a ruler that shows us where Greeks have been in the real world and the aspects of the law of Xenia point out how the hellenic culture was established or paired up with local customs. With Scylla the customs of Xenia don't apply exactly because Scylla doesn't have a concept for it. She is an animal like others (for example Charybdis). As you said Odysseus barely had time to understand what happened even if he was armed foolishly to face her. I touch that in the third part of my own draft here:

And what differs Skylla from Polyphemus is that Polyphemus at least killed his comrades fast and effectively before eating them (one could say the instict of a shepherd to eat a part of his flock without causing it pain. Skylla didn't care because had no concept of compassion. Which is the aspect that I am touching here in the analysis as well.

Well the aspect of natural vs supernatural in the homeric poems could be a subject of an entire series of analysis and discussions but that is true. We could talk also about all three reactions of the dogs in that order; the same dogs that nearly torn Odysseus to shreds for being a stranger in the property becoming the mean to announce him to Eumeus became happy and silent upon seeing Telemachus thus announcing Telemachus to his father and then they show fear and intimidation announcing Athena arriving. The subject also of animal instict vs human sense is another subject to which I had made (sort of) an analysis when I talked on Argos:

Which is absolutely true in one way that the dogs are the one to sense the supernatural and the unexplainable while humans need confirmation by the gods in some audible or visual manner similarly to this. It is just that my post mainly focused on the visual and audible signals of a living thing or in this case a piece of it that normally should trigger compassion and remorse to someone and yet his men ignore the pieces of meat that make sounds of suffering and eat the meat anyways because of the hunger. In other words they have lost the essence of compassion and the cues of something else showing pain. And that somehow connects it to Skylla who didn't bother with that either and unlike Polyphemus didn't kill them first. She just ate to satisfy her hunger and didn't bother that her victims were still alive and suffering. If something was crying in pain every time you took a bite I am sure the first instinct is to feel bad and stop. His men no longer had that. They didn't marvel upon the unnatural phenomenon and they didn't bulge in compassion. Odysseus knew they were beyond saving and yet acknowledging the desperate situation they were in he STILL tried to save them.

So yeah that was mainly what I focused here but yes you are absolutely right. Oh I see! That sounds like a plan. Maybe the men at the first level eating and Odysseus to the depth of the image staring in desperation or something 🤔

The Cattle of Helios Hyperion and Skylla: The animalistic cry for survival (An Odyssey Analysis)

So it has been quite some time since the last time I wrote an analysis on the Odyssey and after I saw some posts by @soarinsugar-homerblog I decided it was about time I wrote one more! This time on the last and fateful moment of the lives of the crew; the sacred cattle of Helios.

Buckle up and bear with me the ride will be wild and long!

So what is the thing that truly shows the divinity of the animals? Was it their godly appearance? Was it the invisible to human eye servants that led them to their grazing spot? Or was it maybe their location and the protection of Helios for them? All of the above are right. However what if the reason behind it was even more profound, even more horrifying than what catches the eye? In my opinion THIS is the true reason and that gives off the most brutal scene in that part of the Odyssey, brutal enough for Odysseus to describe it so thoroughly:

The skin slowly crawled upon the spits and both the roasted and the raw meats would bellow loudly as if they were actual voices

(Translation by me)

Honestly only one word can describe it;

Grotesque!

The scene is nothing less but an absolute grotesque image in the eyes of Odysseus where the meat of the animals seems to gain life and his companions roasting and eating them while Odysseus watches in horror. His men are roasting the meat having a small feast. The scene seems to Odysseus even more horrifying by the fact that his men couldn't even offer a proper sacrifice to the gods (water instead of wine, leaves instead of barley etc).

However why is it so difficult to watch? Is it perhaps that the memories of war awaken inside him and he remembers the brutalities he both saw and caused? Possible but if I may, there is one scene that predates this one and is equally brutal as this specific image. Yet another image that Odysseus describes so thoroughly that might have made some stomachs turn at Homer's time; another scene that remained engraved in his mind forever. It is no other that the Skylla scene!

And Skylla from her cave grabbed out of my ship my strongest six men in arms and body strength and both me and my comrades as we looked up, we could see their arms and legs emerging as they waved them frenzily calling my name in screams till the last moment in their grieving heart

(Translation by me)

And do we think this was brutal enough? Then we must think again for next Odysseus gives us the most specific and absolutely horrendous description in regards to Skylla's feast.

And just like the fisherman upon the tall rock casts his rod with bait to lure the small fishes with food and throws out in the sea the horn of an ox and then he reels in the flopping fish ashore and when he has them, throws them upon the stone; in such a manner she devoured them at the entrance of her cave making screeching sounds and they were waving their arms towards me, struggling in that deadly battle and that was the most lamentable sight we all saw with our own eyes of all I have suffered upon my sea voyages.

(Translation by me)

So for those who still have the contents of their stomachs intact let me make it even more clear; Odysseus describes a wild scene in which a wild creature, no more than an animal, in a blink of an eye snatched six strong and vigorous men and devoured them at her doors without remorse or compassion, just pure animalistic feeding as his comrades flopped like fish caught by the fisherman on the shore while adrenaline kept them awake till the last moment their heart stopped beating! And Odysseus describes it in such a manner; so clear and savage that arguably tops even the grotesque descriptions he had on events like Polyphemus or the Laestrygonians! The ultimate horror scene

Now you might wonder why I correlate the two? I immediately shall tell you. What does the scene of Skylla have in common with the Cattle of Helios Hyperion? Odysseus witnesses someone devouring a prey that is still "alive" and making sound. It doesn't seem like a random choice that Homer decided to share with us that the pieces of meat were still "alive" in one way and I am not convinced that he added that information solely to show how divine the Cattle were neither to create a horror scene. Neither is a mere coincidence that the scene of Skylla is right before the island of Helios or the fact that Odysseus mentions how his men are still grieving the deaths they experienced lastly. I think is much deeper and much more profound than that. Odysseus is in horror at the scene and he has witnessed quite a few harsh situations in his life but this seem to take the cake when it comes to his comrades and doesn't seem to be the mere idea of a blasphemy either.

Odysseus witnesses his men act like Skylla as they devour the pieces of meat that still moo and make sound just like Skylla devoured their still crying and moving men!!!

At that moment of hunger and desperation his men lost the last bits of their humanity. They no longer felt guilt that something was making sound as if it was still alive as they roasted it and slowly devoured it. Their previous experiences and hunger broke them and made them lose the last bits of humanity they had. Not only they committed hubris by defying a God and eating his Cattle, not only didn't they have proper sacrifices to offer but also they didn't stop when they noticed the Cattle were still "alive" even when roasted and they didn't stop not even when they made sounds as if they are being tormented. They didn't care anymore.

They were reduced to the level of a beast in their desperation.

This was the moment when Odysseus knew they were beyond saving because THAT was their real crime: the descent to the mere survival mode; the very bit that separated humans from beast was gone with them. (And even then Odysseus tried to save them, see my other analysis here )

Because this seems to me the true reason why these two scenes were placed side by side. It seems like a combination between cause and effect and also a result of everything that led to that part (adventures, hunger etc) and I am surprised that we don't see more people talk about it. That was the moment where his men reduced from humanity to savagery because as Eurylochus said; there is nothing worse than dying of hunger. And ironically Odysseus seems to quote on that too as he speaks on the basic need of hunger when he is under disguise in his own palace; somehow seems like this moment rings in his mind forever.

Food for thought (pun intended). Let me know your thoughts to the comments and reblogs below!

[butwhatifidothis]

So. Took a look into that fic @nilsh13 is going through the comments of. Dunno if I’ll actually go through the entire thing - 300k words is certainly a lot of words to read through, especially with it still updating, but I’ve read through/am reading through longer ones - but I jumped to the latest chapter to get a feel for where the fic’s at now.

I’m not halfway through the chapter and I have Words To Say lmao, under the cut

This is going to be as serious a critique about the sections I’ve selected as possible - I want to be clear why I think what is being written is not of high quality, pointing out specifically what I have wrong with it. 

Here are some snippets of the fic (boldened), and following those snippets are my thoughts on them:

“My actions have caused immense turmoil, pitting friend against friend, mother against daughter, and brother against sister*,” muttered Edelgard, desperately trying to drive any hint of self-pity (emphasis mine) from her voice. “My best friend has been disowned by her family, Hubert and Ferdinand’s fathers are dead or imprisoned, and the woman I love is now deemed a heretic by the Church that once offered her shelter. The weight of my decisions seems to pull down all who are caught in the shadow of the Imperial crown.” The Flame Emperor gave Professor Hanneman a wan smile. “Whatever imagined slights you believe you have committed against me, they pale in comparison to the carnage my own words and deeds have unleashed.” 

""I made my choice, the only choice I could make, and dragged this continent down to hell with me. It makes me a poor ruler, and an even baser person, but that was the path I knew I must take."" 

“"It is funny you use the word ‘choice’, Miss Edelgard. When I resigned my title to study at Garreg Mach, I lost marriage prospects, became penniless outside of a small stipend…I even renounced the opportunity to have a family.” Hanneman smiled, his whole body suffused with melancholy. “Really, how could I dare to dream of bringing a daughter into a world this senseless and cruel, knowing that someday, she too, could be hurt in such a way? I…I would not survive it.” The man’s body shook. “I sacrificed those things, things I desperately wanted, because the chance to allow my sister to rest in peace was more important. And I would make that choice again, despite all that it has cost me. You are much the same.”"

"“But your sacrifices were your own,” protested the Emperor of Adrestia. “Thousands bleed for the choices that I have made, and sacrifice themselves for the cause that I have placed before them. There is a profound difference-“"

"“We are both wise enough to know a painful truth,” said the scholar with a melancholy smile. “No matter how grave the sins, no matter how many innocents suffer…there will be countless individuals who will defend the law not because it is just, or righteous, but because it is the law. They will permit a hundred Abysses, and a thousand women to be raped, and a million dead children, as long as such actions do not disturb their order.” He placed a hand on Edelgard’s shoulder. “To stand against such moral rot, knowing that the world will despise and vilify you for it, is the truest sign of not only a just ruler, but a good woman.”"

"The academic’s words blazed with the passion of both a scholar and a man who had watched his world crumble to ash. A man who had been forced to live in the remnants of a life forever altered by the cruelty of both society and of humanity. And yet he had fought, the only way he could, to make the world better. It gave the Flame Emperor new resolve."

"“I…” He turned and looked away. “I believe in you, Miss Edelgard. When I see you, and your determination, your spirit, your bravery in choosing not what is easy, but what is right…it reminds me of her.” Fingers clenched around his locket. “I will fight for you, in the way I should have fought for my sister, long ago. My strength is meagre, and my courage more meagre still. However, all of it is yours.”" 

The author writes Edelgard as one trying to give pity onto herself for her actions, despite how negatively they affect her, due to the immense ramifications those actions have had on those both around her and those under her care. This is the appropriate response to someone who has done as morally dubious an action as starting and spearheading a war that has led to the deaths and suffering of countless innocent people, some of whom were undoubtedly already going through immense suffering without war compounding itself onto their already existing pain. She - rightfully - points as, as a negative towards herself, that she has forced thousands of people to sacrifice their lives, livelihoods, friends, family, homes, etc. in order to continue with her war. Edelgard's canonical self-justification - that she had no other choice to do this - is properly utilized, and further characterization is given to her when she herself recognizes that performing such horrendous actions on the people under her care makes her a poor ruler and terrible person. This is, in truth, a decent set-up for her to go onto a possible path of redemption or self-realization.

However, that progress is forcibly stopped and reverted by Hanneman justifying her actions and recontextualizing them in a morally good light. In fact, the entire story does this, as characters act wildly out of character in order for Edelgard to be seen as good in comparison to them. Focusing on the quoted lines, however, Hanneman relating him giving up nobility and going into momentary poverty - whether true to canon or not - to Edelgard's war actively paints her actions as something that she had a right to be making, which she does not, as they force others to make sacrifices for her cause. When she herself rightfully points this discrepancy out, Hanneman excuses her actions by pointing to another - supposed - source of turmoil and essentially saying "You are more right than x, therefore your y actions are not only better, but objectively good, and make you a good person." He says nothing of the inherent injustice of taking away the choice of the people to live as they want and fight for who they want as well as deliberately taking away any semblance of safety from them, and makes objective statements about Edelgard's moral righteousness despite her taking actions that would, by definition, make her moral righteousness a subjective matter at minimum.

Hanneman is projecting the image of his sister and his own personal sense of justice onto Edelgard, and thus sees her as just as much a victim of the war and society as everyone else. Edelgard is a young woman who has gone through trauma due to Crests, as was his sister, and he himself (in this story, though not within the quoted lines) wanted to beat the man who abused his sister to death, and so he sees Edelgard using violence as a means to achieve justice as not only not questionable, but morally good and brave, as he felt he was not brave enough to enact "justice" onto the man that caused his sister's death. Instead of this being settled, focused on, or even mentioned, despite its obvious nature due to deliberate connections Hanneman himself makes, it is used as a means to showcase that Hanneman is a, for lack of a better term, "expert" on what he is saying when speaking to Edelgard. He knows what it's like to want to force change, he has by-proxy experienced the apparent injustice of the Church - not human society, not his family's decision to allow his sister to be married off, not the man who caused her death's decision to discard her, but strictly the Church and only the Church - and so he can "rightfully" justify and excuse Edelgard's morally questionable actions and paint them in a solely positive light, with no nuance or gray whatsoever.

Edelgard, in the first quote, attempts to say her actions without a tone of self-pity, and yet the narrative itself pities Edelgard. She should be allowed to feel bad about her actions - not because they are causing unfathomable suffering on people who were underserving, but because they’re just hard decisions that she was good and brave to make and maybe she can feel a little bad for herself for making them. She shouldn't feel responsible for choosing to start the war - in fact, did she really have a choice, or did everyone else in society force her to? She shouldn't question whether she's a good person or not, because she simply is - no debate, no question. She is - “justly” - standing up against "moral rot"; that she does so with even more moral rot is irrelevant, because, according to the story, it is not as rotten as that she's up against, therefore it is no longer rotten in the first place. War has been completely justified, as it is now not the last resort of desperation that could only ever be morally grey at its absolute best, but an objectively morally white decision of an objectively morally white person who is facing an objectively morally black opponent.

The actions of other characters attempt to paint Edelgard as someone closer to the former, but I will - maybe - eventually go over how those characters are extremely mischaracterized in order to prop Edelgard as their moral superior. 

[buzzdixonwriter]

TROTS AND BONNIE Review

Trigger Warning: This will review a work that often addresses human sexuality, emotional / physical / sexual abuse, and adolescents’ views on same.  Be advised.

. . . 

When I was growing up in the 1950s and early 1960s, two old comic strips that remained popular were J. R. Williams’ Out Our Way and Gene Ahern’s Our Boarding House, both started in the 1920s and, from their daily panels and Sunday pages, never moving out of that decade.  My favorite cartoons on local kid shows were Fleischer Brothers Betty Boop and Popeye cartoons, many of which took place in urban / suburban settings heavily reflective of 1920s and 1930s America.

So when I first encountered Shary Flenniken’s Trots And Bonnie I instantly recognized the flavor and style of the strips.

The content, on the other hand, came straight out of her underground comix pedigree, with the refreshing point of view of the female gaze instead of the admittedly too often misogynistic male cartoonists of the milieu.

Flenniken is one of the best artists and writers to come from the underground era, displaying a confident early mastery of the form (don’t listen to her protestations she really wasn’t good at the start of her career; she clearly ranked among the finest of the underground comix artists).

But the sweet and innocent look of Trots And Bonnie belies the frank and frequently shocking honesty of Flenniken’s work.  

As cartoonist Emily Flake notes in her introduction, “that’s the terrible power of children, the monstrous innocence that makes them capable of anything, a state of being we fatuously describe as ‘pure.’”

Innocence is not synonymous with purity in the world of Trots And Bonnie because the cast lack the moral and cultural filters we acquire as adults.  They are reporting on reality as they see it, and as with all children (and the elderly, and drunks) there’s nothing to stop them from commenting on the foibles of hypocrisy of humanity, nor is there a single iota of shame to hold back their expression.

And when you add the impact of puberty to that mix, holy &#@%, you have no room left for pretense or propriety.

Hold on to your hats, folks, ‘cuz it’s gonna be one helluva ride.

One helluva ride…and a hilarious one, too.

If modern audiences can get past the admittedly often shocking visuals and situations, they’ll find some of the most brilliant coming-of-age comedy ever penned.

The truth is always an absolute defense, and Trots And Bonnie dishes it out lavishly.  Brava to Shary Flenniken for having the courage (or honesty, of lack of filter; take your pick) to pen it, to the original underground comix and National Lampoon to publish it, and to new York Review Comics to bring almost all of it back (Flenniken herself opted to withhold a few strips that she feels might be construed now as hurtful or insulting).

Flenniken is the daughter of a military family, growing up in a variety of climes and places before her father retired in the Seattle area.

She reached adolescence and young adulthood during the hippie era, and the earliest strips cast a fond eye back on that time.

An original member of the infamous Air Pirates crew, she and fellow underground comix artists gained immediate recognition skewering Disney icons.  Air Pirates Funnies and Paul Kassner’s The Realist generated no small amount of tsuris for the House of Mouse in the late 1960s / early 1970s but The Realist, true to its name, possessed to good sense to adhere to the unofficial so-called “one-time fair use parody” rule while the Air Pirates pressed their luck with Air Pirates Funnies #2, resulting in the Disney legal department descending on them like an anvil dropped from orbit.

Crawling away from the wreckage, Flenniken kept contributing to a number of underground venues, creating the first Trots and Bonnie strip for the 1971 underground comix Merton Of The Movement. 

Trots and Bonnie (soon joined by Pepsi, a beguilingly sweet looking elfin-like child with the heart of Germaine Greer, the reproductive organs of Karen Finley, and the mouth of an interstate trucker) popped up in several single page strips and short stories until NatLamp recruited Flenniken in 1972 to be a regular contributor and (briefly) an editor.

NatLamp proved to be the perfect venue for Flenniken and her characters because the magazine possessed the economic mojo and suicidal “Who gives a &#@%?” attitude to publish Trots And Bonnie while at the same time providing a perfect audience of proto-incels who desperately needed some consciousness raising, especially if said consciousness raising arrived in the form of a kick in the groin.

Trots And Bonnie’s tenure at NatLamp lasted slightly more than two decades, but a big hunk of that era saw the Reagan culture wars raging, not to mention much of the country becoming obsessed with a literal modern day witch hunt in the infamous Satanic panic (an apt subject for Flenniken’s characters, but one she wisely avoided, thus following the old military adage, “Never draw fire on your own position.”).

The already edgy material in both NatLamp in general and Trots And Bonnie in particular threatened to be perceived as too edgy by law enforcement, legislators, and judicial authorities who seemed either unwilling or incapable of distinguishing between photographs and video of actual sexual assaults and rapes committed against real children as opposed to crudely drawn Xerox copied mini-comics made by outsider artists with audiences that might possibly number in the dozens.

Flenniken’s willingness to honestly recall the turbulent emotions of early adolescence resulted in stories and strips where prepubescent kids engage in activities and discussions that would be acutely problematic if done today.  Again, the utter lack of self-consciousness in Flenniken’s characters swerves her work away from the low grade smut ground out by many of her male contemporaries and flung open a window on how adolescent females perceived the world around them.

The stories are wildly transgressive, and like all transgressive art can only be understood in the context of their time and mores.  Flenniken’s art carries a sweetness that leavens out the most horrendous situations (she gets astonishing comedic mileage off a story about a woman raped by a police officer, never once blaming or exploiting the victim but lambasting the culture and mindset that makes such a crime possible).

The fact these stories are told from a vibrant feminist / sex positive point of view makes them relevant to this day, and Flenniken’s ability to draw both truth and humor from dysfunctional families, emotional abuse, and drug use keeps them from being one-note exercises.

Most importantly, Flenniken comes across as strongly pro-child, even while honestly depicting her own characters’ failings and misconceptions.

She always brings a genuine emotional connection with her characters as adolescents, neither glorifying nor patronizing them.

One of the most notorious Trots And Bonnie strips finds Bonnie looking at herself in a mirror, fantasizing she’s famous actresses of the past.*  

At the hands and brush of Norman Rockwell, this theme tries for poignant but lands in schmaltz, looking down on an anxious child studying her reflection in a mirror; in far too many bad novels by sub-par male writers, it’s borderline (and often not-so-borderline) pornography.

At the touch of Flenniken’s deft pen, it’s honest and sweet and shockingly frank but it never depicts Bonnie as a figment of the male imagination but as a character and personality all her own.

Flenniken has not done any new Trots And Bonnie strips since the last ones published in NatLamp in 1993.

To be honest, I think that’s a good thing.

The characters are of their particular time and cultural gestalt, it may not be possible to recapture that lightning in a new bottle, and rather than diminish the old, perhaps it best remains a perfect artefact of its era.

Mark Twain tried repeatedly but could never transport Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn out of antebellum Hannibal, and to use an example more contemporary to Flenniken’s work, the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers resolutely thwart all efforts to move them out of San Francisco during the Summer of Love.

You can’t go home again, as Thomas Wolfe famously observed, but that only applies if you’ve successfully left home.  At a certain point, if you haven’t moved beyond your old confines, you never will.

Flenniken’s honest frankness could have turned into a big crosshair on her back during the cultural wars, but to paraphrase John Lennon, life happened while she was making comix.

She married twice, divorced once, widowed the second time.  While she never completely withdrew from professional illustration, she no longer sought out the high profile gigs.

Trots And Bonnie from New York Review Comics is the first extensive English language compilation of her strips and stories, a very handsomely produced volume designed by Norman Hathaway.

The strips are meticulously presented, making it possible to enjoy Flenniken’s fine line work and exquisite character depictions in greater detail than every before.  It’s a genuine delight, sure to thrill old time fans of the original strip and quite likely to win a new generation of admirers.

But brace yourselves, noobs, this ain’t your grandma’s Betty Boop…

© Buzz Dixon

 *  It should be noted that for all its apparent revolutionary newness, the counterculture of the 1960s and 1970s, the crucible that forged Flenniken’s point of view, also enthusiastically embraced the past.  W. C. Fields and the Marx Brothers became cultural icons to a new generation, Betty Boop regained her old popularity, old movies were rediscovered and reimagined, African-American spirituals and blues sprang from new voices, obscure books and novels from earlier decades and centuries became the new cultural touchstones.

I’ve posted elsewhere on how the boomer generation enjoyed a unique conflation of new technology and old media to produce a brand new synthesis; there has been nothing like it since even with astonishing advances in technology.  When old media is rediscovered and reinterpreted in this era, it too often tends to be in the form of irony, which mocks that which it cannot understand.

Give those old hippies their due -- they got the &#@%ing point!

[aworldofyou]

Not necessarily a stereotype but in a recent university class I did some research on different issues facing Native Americans & one of the things I found particularly alarming was the statistic that 1 in 3 females had or would be assaulted & w/not being able to prosecute non natives through tribal law a lot of the cases don't get properly prosecuted. Do you feel that that's an accurate statistic & what can people at large do to help? send me stereotypes, linking it even though this isn’t one / Anonymous

          This is a very big subject with many factors that are added to it that are more than just crimes done by non-native people. If you had told me this years ago, I would have rejected it in my early teens only because I was so busy mentally rejecting my own abuse I didn’t realize that if I had just looked around - I would see others that had suffered the same. So in truth? There is nothing overblown about this statistic when I very much am that 1 lady of 3, and I know other women who were also the _1_ of that that particular stat. And what breaks my heart is that looking at a group of people I could catch actions in other girls who just might be going through the same thing. And it’s a horrible powerlessness when all I can try to do is offer them a listening ear and try to lend my strength to them because I was in their shoes.

           Tribal law in itself is dirty, and warped, and isn’t fair because the roots of it’s existence have set them against the people (which is it’s own subject there, they are not there to protect us - we were one of the first nations to fight the police with everything from AIM to recent events, to all sorts of smaller individual cases scattered all over the reservations. (which is not ot take away from the good cops that are out there). The reason I mentioned this is because a lot of the abuse is also coming from out own people, there are lots of issues revolving around fathers, uncles, grandpas, cousins, predominant  the male sides of the families that are also at fault for the guilt of this neglect. (Not to say that this isn’t an issue with the female side, there are plenty of neglectful female figures in families, trust me, I can say that. I thought I was safe once in my aunties bed when I was 9, I was not. Not to mention all the mental and physical abuse- it’s a long story mine. )

           As much as non-natives do have fault, in their own cases, we can’t deny that THIS is where a lot of the issue is. Which is also sad because while this is getting the attention it very much need, there are people who neglect this attention brought to it and this is where we come in with the abusive women who use this to abuse the significant other. (Again another topic, which is my peeve because it hurts the victims when a woman is punching herself and hitting her own head off things and then calls the cops to report her now ex- for abuse) And there are many ways that we need to take to trying to help the situations that center around mental health, physical health, finding a way to become a more stable figure in the lives of these neglected people.

          So yes, all in all, this is a very real issue, and that statistic is very much a reality, and we have issues spanning on both sides. And the reason that the neglectful non-native cases are difficult to process legally is because we have tribal law and federal, and the cops themselves are always caring more about their own pride over the safety of the one they’re protecting to care to get the paperwork right. (Literally, paperwork gets ‘lost’ all the time.)

          And not to mention, the big kicker. FAMILY PROTECTS FAMILY AND IT IS THE MOST BACKWARD THING IN TERMS OF THE LAW. Is the judge your uncle? the prosecutor your best friend? your school mate?  And you were the one guilty of the crime? Yeah, no, the case is gonna get thrown out because paper work magically disappears. This is how people get away with murder and so many other horrendous things here.

          I can go on and on about this, but if you want to help there is a national resource center focused on missing indigenous women’s cases that you can donate to, here. And then there is their Instagram right here. And when it comes to donating to place make sure that you be REALLY careful in who you donate too, make sure it’s run by indigenous people and most importantly, make sure the funds are being used for what they are meant for.

[7-wonders]

Almost Feelings

Summary: Just when things were starting to get back to normal, an accidental confession by Michael sends shockwaves through your relationship.

Word Count: 3148

A/N: Another chapter of Mad Love, done. Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope this doesn’t suck too much.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15

Life manages to slowly reassume a state of relative normality. After Dinah Stevens had checked you over and declared you free of Satan’s influence, you were allowed to actually leave your bed and once again have freedom. Well, limited freedom. Michael has been wary of letting you out of his sight, terrified that Satan will once again attempt to control you. Your father-in-law hasn’t made an appearance in your lives since the night that he possessed a cocktail waitress, which is what scared both you and Michael the most. 

Michael had fully been expecting to be swept down to Hell for a thorough scolding about “spurning” the gifts being given to him. As the days passed with none of the usual indicators that Satan was near, your worry started to wane. Surely he had better things to do than stalk you and wait to once again try the plan that had already failed? Michael, on the other hand, wasn’t too sure. If there’s one thing he knows about the being he’s never met, it’s that he’s extremely patient. 

The gilded cage in which you’ve spent the past days under Michael’s watch has become increasingly more confining. Even if you weren’t outwardly expressing your discomfort, Michael would be able to sense it. Although he wants nothing more than to make sure you’re safe at all times, he knows he can’t keep you locked in the house. Maybe if he was less of a lovestruck Antichrist, he would have no qualms about it. The power dynamics in your relationship have changed, for better or for worse, and he cares about your wants far too much for him to disregard your feelings. 

It’s only been a few days since your bout of “food poisoning” when Michael finally agrees with you that it’s safe to return to class, but it feels as if it’s been months. Even in the largest house you’ve ever inhabited, cabin fever still runs rampant. As he watches you run out the door to get to campus, Michael feels a tugging in his chest that he’s come to associate with you. Watching the one person you love most in the world leave the safety of your protection is a pain that, unfortunately, Michael’s become all too familiar with.

While Michael’s dealing with emotions he’s never had before, you’re nearly drunk on the freedom that you’ve been denied lately. It’s not exactly warm out, but the windows in your car are rolled down and the wind whips your hair around your face as you sing along to the radio at the top of your lungs.

Classes, of course, you could do without. It’s the little moments, getting to laugh with your friends in class and holing up in your favorite hidden corners when you have a break, that make the monotony of lectures bearable. Michael, predictably, breaks the established rules of communication by texting you to make sure that you’re okay at least once an hour. Prior to momentarily being Satan’s puppet, this would have irritated you to no end. Now, you understand Michael’s motives in a way that you previously hadn’t.

“You look a lot better,” Mallory says in place of a regular greeting when you meet up with her in the library after class.

“As opposed to my regularly horrendous appearance?” She rolls her eyes, obviously not appreciating your joke.

“You know what I meant.” You slide into the seat across the table from Mallory, tugging your textbook and laptop out of your backpack. “The endless bout of food poisoning is finally gone for good?”

“I think so. I started feeling human a couple of days ago, and this is the first day I haven’t felt like crawling into a hole and dying since I got sick.”

“Well that’s good. I almost thought you were avoiding us after revealing your secret.” You look up, panicked at what she could mean before realizing that she means your living arrangements.

“Oh! No, I wouldn’t avoid you guys, because it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Really? Because with the way that Michael looks at you, you would think that you were married.”

You laugh nervously and pretend to search for a pen in your bag, attempting to hide your anxious expression. “Like I’ve told you before, we’re just friends and he was nice enough to help me out when I was facing a tough time.”

“It’s not a bad thing if you do have feelings for him, (Y/N).”

“I just don’t get why you and Kate are stuck on this idea,” you grumble.

Mallory’s gaze softens when she sees how her comments affected you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I’m not mad at you, I promise. Let’s just work on homework before we get too off-track.”

Of course, this plan works for a good twenty minutes, giving you just enough time to read and take notes from one chapter of your text before your attention is drawn away from the task at hand. Mallory had merely asked for your help in identifying the proper use of ‘affect’ versus ‘effect,’ which almost immediately led to discussing topics that have nothing to do with schoolwork. 

“I think we need to focus on the real issue here,” you comment as Mallory laments Kate and Brennan’s latest argument, this one about moving in together.

“Which is?”

“Your own love life, of course.” Mallory groans, making you pout. “Mal, you haven’t mentioned any sort of romantic interest once since I met you.”

“Because I have better things to do than spend my time swiping on Tinder.” You can tell that there’s more she’s not divulging, and a good minute of remaining silent while sneaking glances at her has the brunette finally speaking again. “I...my last relationship didn’t end well at all.”

“Was this while you were still living in New Orleans?”

“Yeah. Actually, my decision to transfer here is what led to our break up. She wanted me to stay, I wanted to go, and that was that.”

You feel for her, but an interesting bit of information captures the majority of your attention. “‘She!’”

Mallory flushes, attempting to stutter out an answer, but you’re far too excited to allow her to speak.

“Ooh, that doubles the potential dating pool for you! I know so many people who would be so interested in you, and they’re just the ones that I can think of off the top of my head.”

“While I appreciate your excitement, I’m just not sure I’m quite ready for another relationship yet.” You nod in understanding, but Mallory’s phone chiming ends the conversation before you can suggest slowly diving back into the dating pool. “Ugh, I’ve gotta get going.”

“Yeah, I should probably go too. I have way too much homework that I haven’t gotten started on.”

“Wanna make a deal?” Mallory asks as you walk towards the parking lot together.

“A deal?”

“Mhm. I won’t bring up the Michael issue anymore if you won’t try and drag me out to go and meet new people.”

You have to hand it to her; she’s extremely good at bartering. “Alright then, we have a deal.”

//

Shockingly, Michael’s not waiting at the door for you when you arrive home. You find him in the kitchen searching for food, although he does look like he’s trying not to seem like he’s waiting for you.

“Hey,” you greet, hopping up on the counter and pulling Michael into a hug that he begrudgingly returns.

“Hi. How were classes today?”

“I survived, so…” you trail off, shrugging.

“And you’re feeling okay? Nothing odd happened to you?”

“No, I’m great.” Just to prove how great you are, you shove Michael away from you. “Could someone possessed by Satan do that?”

“No, I suppose not.”

Getting off of the counter, you snag a sandwich from a plate and take a very well-deserved bite. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve asked me many questions about many things, all without asking beforehand if you can.”

“Well it’s a touchy subject, and people usually like to make sure that it’s okay to ask.”

Michael looks at you like he’s not sure he wants to know what you’ll ask, but nods anyways. “Ask away, then.”

“You’re treating this whole situation like it’s your fault.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“Sorry. Why are you treating this whole situation like it’s your fault?”

“I’m not.”

Wrinkling your nose, you cross your arms over your chest and glare. “I thought you hated lies.”

“It wasn’t a lie,” he scoffs.

“Michael, you’re terrified about me leaving your sight and you do anything and everything I ask. It’s okay to feel like it’s your fault, but I need you to know that it’s not.”

“How is it not my fault? It happened at an event that I took you to, it was my father who poisoned you, and it’s because you’re an unwilling part of this prophecy that I dragged you into.”

“Are you your father? Are you the one who made me drink that potion? Did you take advantage of me when you could have?”

“No, I’m not, and I didn’t, but I’m the reason he tried it in the first place!”

The room falls silent, and you watch as Michael’s eyes widen. You wouldn’t have thought anything about his statement in the first place if he hadn’t shown any fear in his eyes, assuming it to just be a blanket statement since Satan’s his father. Now, you’re starting to suspect there might be something more.

“What do you mean, ‘you’re the reason he tried it in the first place?’”

“I-I--” Michael shakes his head as he stammers, taking a cautious step back from you.

“Michael,” you snap, patience running thin.

“Fuck, (Y/N)!” He runs a hand through his hair, and you’re shocked at his uncharacteristic use of a swear. “I was impatient and frustrated, and so I sought out my father’s advice for help. I knew it was wrong the moment he gave me a solution, but he was so angry that I even thought about turning down his ‘gift’ that I...I took it.”

“You knew he was going to give me that drink at the Cooperative event?” You’re oddly calm, something that frightens Michael more than any amount of anger could.

“No! No, I knew nothing about that.”

You take your time digesting this information, letting Michael stew in his anxiety as your jaw clenches tightly. “So there was another time, then?”

“Yes, there was.”

Thinking through every interaction you’ve had with Michael in the past couple of months, you can only think of a couple of occasions where he’s acted stranger than normal. Only one of those, however, involved Satan’s ironic choice of apples.

“The day where I had the weird dream that I couldn’t remember, and then you freaked out when I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl,” you say bitterly. “You put that fucking apple there!”

“I didn’t have a choice--”

“Yes, you did. You contacted your father because you were pissed I wasn’t your adoring little wife, you put that apple in the bowl, you watched as I ate what you thought was your father’s gift, and you kept this little secret from me!”

The lights flicker ominously above you, a silent warning to watch yourself before Michael loses control. Today, however, those signs of Michael’s immense powers couldn’t mean less to you. 

“I wanted to protect you. The second you grabbed that apple, I regretted even contacting my father in the first place. I assumed that, by not telling you in the first place, that would mean you weren’t living every day in fear.”

“You don’t get to decide what information I should and shouldn’t know, especially when it directly concerns me and my life.”

“I know that, and you need to trust me when I say that I am so, so sorry for the way that this happened.” Michael reaches a hand out to try and physically convey just how sorry he is, but you shove him away as you shake your head emphatically. The tears brimming in your eyes physically cause him pain, and all he wants to do is feel one of your hugs as he wipes your sadness away. 

“How do you expect me to trust you anymore? You lied to me and put my life at risk, solely for your own selfish reasons,” you cry out, spinning on your heel and marching up the stairs.

“I don’t expect you to trust me, and I’ll spend every day trying to earn that trust back--”

“No,” you spit, coming to a stop at your bedroom door. “This isn’t something that you can just apologize a few times for and then everything is okay again.”

Michael watches helplessly from the threshold of your room, not willing to go in as you grab a bag and start throwing clothes into it.

“I know you’ve never really seen the dynamics of any sort of a healthy relationship, but surely even you should know that this is not the way that people are treated.”

“What are you doing? Are you leaving?”

You ignore his question, walking into the bathroom before returning with an armful of toiletries. “You say that you’re in love with me? What you did is not love. Love is honesty, and protection, and admitting your mistakes when you make them. Love is not lying to save face, or believing that you know better than the person you claim you love.”

“(Y/N),” Michael says brokenly, hoping to somehow find enough of a gap in your sentences to attempt and repair what’s been broken.

“You’re not supposed to hurt those that you love, and you hurt me.”

“I do love you, and I never wanted any of this to happen!” Now Michael’s crying too, blue eyes stormy as tears trail down his cheeks.

“You don’t love me, Michael. You love the idea of what I’m supposed to be for you. You think that I’m just going to wake up one day and fit into this role that supposedly is mine by prophecy, but I’m not. It’s been almost a year; either release me from this sham of a Satanic marriage or kill me, because I will never be what you want me to be.”

Michael feels like his entire world is crumbling around him as you zip up your bag and toss it over your shoulder. He has to do something to fix this, but it’s as if he’s frozen in place. You can’t even look him in the eyes as you pass, knowing that you’ll lose your resolve if you do.

“Just because your father doesn’t love you doesn’t give you the excuse to have a skewed idea of love.” You pause at the front door, hand on the doorknob as you look back at him. “I need to be alone for a couple of days. Don’t bother trying to contact me, I won’t answer.”

Closing the door behind you, you can hear Michael’s screams of agony as you run to your car and fumble with the keys. The key’s barely in the ignition before you’re driving away, angrily swiping tears from your face to attempt to keep your sight clear.

How could he betray you like this? How could he sit by, hearing you thank him profusely for saving your life, when it was all his fault? Your mind whirls with a cacophony of questions, all of them leaving behind a bitter disappointment.

He’s supposed to be your friend. Up until today, you had thought things were going well, and you genuinely liked your Satanic roommate. Now, you don’t know if you can ever even trust him again. This deception stings more than you would have expected. After all, you used to despise him; why should this hurt you when you had expected the bare minimum? Maybe this is all your fault for placing your trust in a person who should not be trusted under any circumstances.

You’re too lost in your thoughts to register movement out of the corner of your eye until it’s too late, a small deer jumping directly in the path of your oncoming vehicle. Gasping, you slam on the brakes in an attempt to save the animal. Startled by the sound, the deer dashes across the road into the tree-line. You should be in the clear, but a quick rainstorm earlier in the evening has left the roads wet. As the car hydroplanes across the road, you quickly realize that there’s no stopping its path.

The car careens through the deserted road, crashing in the ditch and coming to a stop when it hits a tree. Although you try to brace yourself, the force of the crash overwhelms any strength you may have. Your head smacks against the steering wheel, and though you only lose consciousness for a second, it’s frighteningly disorienting to wake up again.

Your head screams in pain as you lift yourself up, and you can feel a warm liquid coursing down your face. Gingerly touching the source, you examine your fingers and confirm that you’re bleeding. Throwing open the car door, you stumble and land on your hands and knees. When you attempt to stand, the world tilts under your feet, so you settle from crawling away from the wreckage.

Of course this would happen to you when you’re attempting to put some distance between you and Michael. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if this crash was orchestrated by Satan himself to voice his displeasure at the situation. You try your hardest to crawl towards the road, hoping that a lone car will spot you and get help, but your arms give out underneath you and send you falling to the ground.

Staring up at the darkening sky, you can only hope that this concussion isn’t the kind that includes internal bleeding. There’s a chance for you to make your way to safety if you can regain your bearings, but the dropping temperatures make you worry that you’ll be out in the cold all night. Just as you’ve resigned yourself to freezing to death, the sound of feminine voices approaching you gives you hope.

“Over here, help me!” you call weakly, attempting to sit up to see who’s out there.

Four women walk towards you; an older woman with crimped red hair, two blondes, and a brunette. One of the blondes bends down beside you and, instead of calling for help, smiles at you with perfectly-painted pink lips as she strokes your bloodied hair away from your face. You panic as you feel yourself losing consciousness again, wide eyes darting around the group as you try to ask what’s going on. Right before passing out, you lock eyes with the brunette and feel a flicker of recognition.

“Mallory?”

//

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[sirene312]

i'm back at home

This have to be the first time that the reason I disappeared here was not because I lost my internet, I don't even know how to start the nightmare that these last two-three months have been. What happened to me it's something so horrendous that i need to get this out of my chest now that i have the chance so i don't have to think about this whole experience ever again. sorry in advance but this is going to be a long post. 

Before you read this I want you to keep in mind that I live in a south american country falling apart with many problems (here's a translated thread (x) of the things happening on in my country. here’s the original with images (x) caution some images are distressing) where crazy things like this happen with impunity because literally nothing here works and that includes justice.

My dad passed away suddenly at the end of August, my brother and I went to his house that is on the other side of the city, and when we got there, apparently there were some “friends” living with him: a man, a woman and a child. At the time, since I was distracted by being utterly devastated and my mind was clouded with pain i didn't realize what this could mean, after all my dad had many many friends, but still i thought it was a little weird since we talked to my dad frequently on the phone and he never told us about these randos.

After the funeral, since we still needed to do more legal stuff and wanted to save to give him a proper grave/tombstone we decided to stay and live at my dad’s house (now ours by law) for a few weeks until we took care of everything. and this is where the nightmare starts.

We asked these "friends” of his when they would leave and go back to their place and they never gave us a clear answer, they were very evasive and never told us why they didn't want to go to their own home... and you know why? because they didn't have one. They were squatters. Here they are called “invaders” and you can read in these news articles (x) how they act (x), in our case these squatters were non violent but they did make our lives hell, because since we couldn't get them out we had to live with them or we would have lost our dad’s house and everything inside. 

In this stupid country if the squatters got into your home in a non violent way, you can't just force them to get out. Yes, you read that right. That is why we didn't went to the police, we knew they weren't going to do anything, they only do something if you have money, have contacts in the police, or a bunch of people make a fuss and attract media attention. 

The only thing we could do legally was go to la Fiscalía (I don't know what's the equivalent in English the persecution I think?) and file a complaint and some other paperwork, all that legal process can take years and meanwhile, the squatters can live there as they please and you can’t get inside your home again or get your things out...God...as you can imagine that was definitely not an option. 

After much thought we decided to sacrifice some of the money we had and got a lawyer for advice in what to do, and she said that while she searched for another legal way to get them out asap, we had to live in the house and don't ever leave it unoccupied, always my brother or I had to be there, because otherwise the squatters could change the locks and then there would not be anything we could do to get back in. I didn't want to do that but we had no other choice. Nothing could have prepared us to the things we would have to endure there.

Here are some the horrible things they did while we were living there:

They rearranged everything inside the house. We just lost our dad and I couldn't even keep the memory of how his house was decorated and how his things looked the way he had them. they moved around every little thing. it stills hurts, they had not right. 

They STOLE many things of my dad. They were only old things with very little value, but to me, their sentimental value was incalculable. like for example imagine that favorite chipped coffee mug your mom loves, or your grandpa reading glasses, or that comfy cardigan your granny likes to use when knitting, now imagine that a random stranger took them without permission and is using them as they please, worse because your loved one is no longer here and that is the only thing you had left of them. Now you have an idea of how sad and indignant i felt.

They never wore masks or didn't even wash their hands, they didn't care they were putting us all at risk with their lack of hygienic measures, in fact mocked us because we were super clean and wore masks when they were near us.

The woman pretended to have a serious medical condition and would threaten to report us for attempted murder  if we spoke to her in any way that she wouldn't like because getting “upset” triggered her “condition”. Which is ironic since I’m the one with a heart condition and she could have jeopardize my health with all the stress she and her husband were subjecting me everyday. 

They turned all the neighbors against us! that evil woman would pretend to have “fits” of “her disease” right on the street were the neighbors would witness it to gain sympathy and later tell them that we caused her that, they believed her and everyone on our street hated us, and even all of them signed a bullshit letter to have us evicted from our own house and to let them keep the house. Good thing that wasn't legal and the government office ignored that ridiculous letter.

They used everything inside the house without permission, like our refrigerator, the kitchen appliances, the washing machine, the stereo, our water and food, our frigging clean bed sheets, it was like that was their home and WE were the intruders. that made me so so mad. 

They psychologically tormented us. They took advantage of our emotionally fragile state to do and say things to get us so upset so we would leave the house for good. And they almost got it, my mental health was a mess, grieving and dealing with this was too much but our mom convinced us to stay, she said our dad wouldn't have wanted us to lose our house to these damn thieves.

and speaking of theft...they even tried to steal OUR DOG. The kid one day said “this is now my dog! our new dog, my mom said so!” and i was like wHAT NO! but i just said something like “but we love him we’ll be very sad and lonely if he's not by our side” bc i didn't want to upset the kid. She was very sweet and innocent, she and I actually got along well and played sometimes (she gave me drawings that i still have and i gave her some paper crafts and my childhood toys) it was not her fault that her parents were evil. That horrible man wasn't even her father, he treated her bad, god I hated how he yelled at her and made her cry she was just a little child, i wish i could have had the power to do something.

At this point you must be thinking, why the hell were you acting like a doormat?? why did you allowed them to treat you like this!! why didn't you do something!? oh believe me I was very vocal in my discontent and didn't give them an inch, but the thing is there was little we could do, if we tried to talk to them they ignored us at best, police were not going to help (we at one point did end up going to the police station just to get told what we already knew: that they couldn't do anything), and even when one day i snapped and i told them to leave us alone and not touch our things, they just brushed me off. They knew if things escalated and violence of any kind were used against them we could be in legal trouble (same applied to them, that's why they never physically attacked us). We were alone in this battle, didn't have the support of anyone. What else we could do? our hands were tied. 

We had to endure all this shit non stopping every day we were there. I was saving all my limited phone data for important things like calls and messages to my mom and my lawyer, so my only source of entertainment was the cable TV, I can't believe that what kept me sane was watching old reruns of Cupcake Wars and home improvement shows.

But the more time passed the more this situation was unbearable and we were not doing well, this distressed my mom so much that she decided to pack a small suitcase and go stay there with us, we didn't want her to do that because she is an elderly woman and her health could be at risk but she didn't care and just show up one evening and let me tell you, after months of not seeing her when she walked through that door i was so happy and relieved and emotional that i started crying two seconds flat and we just hug her for a long time. Damn these people for causing us to be apart when we needed our mom the most.

Now with our mom there I think they felt threatened and so those pathetic fools went so far as to make a false document where it said that they were “our tenants” so they could be protected by law and could stay there “legally” for at least a year or two. That stupid stunt would be their downfall. 

We were cited to go to a govt office that deals with rent and housing problems where they were going to present that bogus document, the office needed for all parts to be present there, so my bro, our lawyer and I got there and later the squatters and their kid since they were using the scarce public transport. My mom stayed back at the house alone. I don't know if it was luck or divine intervention (or karma in their case)  that the woman in charge couldn't make it and the audience got postponed for the following month, our lawyer was fuming she didn't want those horrible people to spend another whole month at our house, she called my mom and told her to lock all doors and don't let anyone in, we quickly got into the lawyer’s car and got to the house first before the squatters and we put a huge padlock on the door! That way they wouldn't be able to get in, they only had keys (that were originally our spare keys that they stole) to the front door.

I can't even begin to describe how nerve wracking was all this, but for the first time i felt hopeful because finally things were in our favor, now if those squatters tried to get inside of our private property by force they could get in serious trouble. How the turntables bitch!

And that's how we could GET THEM OUT AT LAST. 

When they realized they couldn't do anything more than pace furiously on the sidewalk they left (the woman tried having one of her “fits” to get people’s attention but since it started to rain she quickly gave up ha!). We thought they were going to stay in any of the neighbor's houses but they left to who knows where. A few days later we changed the locks and we got our uncle to go stay and live in the house while we finish sorting the legal papers. The only thing i felt sorry was for the kid but we later learned that the squatters found another house to take over the very same day we locked them out, so i know at least that poor little girl is not sleeping on the streets. I feel sad every time i think of her, this is not how a child should be living bc of her deplorable parents. i wish i could have had the chance to say goodbye to her in better terms.

I still can't believe all this happened to us when all we wanted was to get through grieving our dad and give him a better grave with some flowers. Hopefully we can finally finish saving and get that done now that we don't have to stress 24/7 over people wanting to make our lives hell.

I would have liked for this insanely horrible experience to end with them receiving punishment for what the did to us, but by this country standards when dealing with this kind of situation we were very lucky, this was the best outcome many people has told us, and honestly I'm just happy that it's over and I'm back at my home with my family and I’m sleeping on my own bed again.

Last but not least I want to thank everyone that took the time during these months to send me their lovely messages and their condolences, and were very supportive and understanding of my situation, although now is when I'm able to read them, they have made me very happy thank you so much for all your kindness.

and now to end on a high note here's Tomy our sweet dog, that belong to us and we get to keep because he’s ours :)

[supernaturalmarauders]

A real family (Pt 1)

Summary: Robert Downey juniors teenage daughter lives with her mum, after her parents divorce. Robert doesn’t get any access to see her, and knows nothing about her life. After her abusive step dad goes to far and puts him in hospital, can Robert save her before

Basically I’m going to take on the evil step sister approach but make it male version. But whilst adding in physical abuse

Warnings: abuse, depression, hospitals.

“Y/N” your dad screamed from the kitchen. You couldn’t remember a time your dad hadn’t been screaming. Your house echoed so much you could have sworn that half of the bloody town could hear your mums shreak.

“I’m comming” you yell from your room. Big mistake. But it was to late now. You should have just kept your mouth shut, but then again, that outcome wouldn’t have been any better of an outcome.

You slowly make your way down the stairs into the kitchen where you see your two step brothers, and step father sitting around the kitchen table. You know sneaking in unnoticed isn’t an option so you except your defeat.

“What have I told you about yelling” says your stepfather in a sturn voice. You don’t reply, instead you keep your head down and look into your lap

“WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU” he screeches at you throwing his plate at your shoulder causing it to shatter and cut into your shoulder blade, making you wince

“Answer me you worthless piece of shit ” he screames at you and you can see your step brother preparing to throw their plates

“Not to do it” you mumble.

“ WHAT WAS THAT” he roared at you, slowly raising from the table, causing you to fall back off your stool and against a wall.

“Nothing sir, you told me not to do it” you say clearly with the small bit of confidence you have left. Suddenly a sharp object collides with your eye and you feel a stinging, painfully burning sensation. Your chew down in your lip to not make a scene.

“Was that talking back” you hear your oldest step brother say, whilst slowly decreasing to ground between you.

“ANSWER US” you hear your brother screech throughout the ringing in your ear.

“I’m sorry sirs, it won’t happen again” you say hiding your face in your hands.

Suddenly a foot collides with your tiny figure and you feel a snap, you know you’ve broken your second rib in a week, but there’s nothing you can do.

“I have heard that excuse far to much Y/N, I think you deserve a punishment” said your father breaking the ground between you and the group of towering men.

You wished that your mum was still alive. Maybe everything would be peaceful if your mum was still alive. If you hadn’t caused her death, as your father said.

“Please no” You beg, before you were sudenly shoved against a wall hearing even more bones crack.

“No more talking back” said your step dad dragging you by the hair up to stairs and into his bedroom door, locking it after being followed by your “brothers”. You closed your eyes as tight as you could, trying to ignore the horrendous pain that littered your body, and distract yourself from what you prayed would never come.

The screames of protest and pain that came next could have woken up the whole country if anyone listened hard enough, however living in a very remote part of the town meant no one could hear the cruel ness that your “family” was subjecting you to.

Xxxx

Robert was trying to sleep, he had to be up early for filming tomorrow, however there was something else on his mind. You. You were officially turning 16 tomorrow, and for a parent that is a very scary time, however this birthday was fillled with sadness and regret.

He had fought long and hard for custody over you for two years untill the court concluded that your mum could take better care of you. The last he ever saw of you was a seven year old little girl crying because she would never see her father again. Your mother would not let him ever speak to you, no matter how hard he tried, and he could not find you on any social media. He wished you were safe but something in his gut was telling him that something was wrong.

He couldn’t act on his feeling however as he was not granted any access to see you, therefor he would be breaking the law.

The last he remembered of you was your long ( hair colour) hair, and smiling face ripped away from him. He was sure you’d grown up by now and had changed physically greatly. However he wished you remembered him. He wished you and his current family could live together happily celebrating big milestones together.

“Can’t sleep” said a voice from behind him. Robert hadn’t noticed he’d moved from the inside of his trailer to the outside seating area.

“Umm, I’m just thinking” he said

“I’s this about Y/N ?” Said Chris Hemsworth taking a seat next to him.

“Yeah” said Robert sadly.

The entire avengers cast new about You. It had come out on a drunk night on the town, however no one had seen it effect him this much... ever.

“It’s her birthday tomorrow, her 16th” he said sadly.

“I’m sorry mate, I could never imagine not seeing one of my children, even living without them for that fact” said Chris trying to console your father to the best of his abilities.

“Something just isn’t sitting right with me, i know somethings wrong with her” said Robert.

“Have you tried getting custody again, even just visiting rights” asked Chris

“The case is to small, It’ll just be dismissed” said Robert sadly

“Keep your head up mate. Not long untill she leaves home , and then I’m sure she’ll want to meet her father” said Chris

“I guess your right” said your dad sighing in defeat”. However he still couldn’t shake the feeing something was wrong. He’d been feeling it a lot lately, and a fathers gut is never wrong

Xxxxx

“Y/N, pick up the pace” said your gym instructor. Of course today was the day you ran the mile. Every bone in your body was aching, and you were sure your body was running on adrenaline. You couldn’t get the disgusting feeling of betrail, and violation off you. You remembered every moment from the previous night, from the almost shattered shoulder bone, to the moment you were violated and entered. It made you want to cry however crying was a weakness. Crying was more reason for them to beat the emotion out of You.

You weren’t the slowest runner, actually you were quiet good, that’s why your gym teacher was so tough on you, she knew you had potential, if only she knew what was going on at home.

You finish the Lap slower than your usual time, however you could feel your body start to shut down.

“Everyone go get a drink.... Y/N not you, I wanna talk” said your coach watching everyone leave. You could see your vision start to loose focus, causing you to reach for your bottle, and chug half of it down.

“Honey, what’s going on. Your average is dropping, I’m getting worried”

You couldn’t reply, your ears started to ring, and your long sport top was causing you to sweat and fall of the seat, onto the floor, hitting your head. You could hear the distant ringing of your name however your to far gone. You feel your body start to go limp, and everything to go dark, you start to fade out of consciousness and the last thing you heard was screaming to call 911.

Xxxxxxxx

Robert had just finished filming and it was lunch time for the avengers crew. Almost all the crew members were there today, it was a big day for shooting and very busy, so getting to finally eat lunch was a blessing.

He took a seat around a table seating, Scarlett, Mark, Jeremy, Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, and Tom hidleston. They were all in the middle of a conversation when they saw Him sit down.

“Hey, you doing alright” said scarlet dropping the previous discussion.

“Peachy” he replied taking a bite of a sandwich. He suddenly saw one of the producers running up to the table with a frantic look on him face holding the main phone.

“You need to answer this. It’s important”the feeling of dread once again sat in the bottom of his stomach. he instantly answered the phone, his face Pailing almost imidiately, causing the other members of the cast to drop their food and commence worry.

“ I’ll be there as soon as I can” said your dad hanging up the phone.

He looked towards the manager receiving a nod.

“Take all the time you need, we’ll rearrange the schedule, let us know how it goes” said the director taking back the phone.

Robert quickly took of from the set, already on the phone to his wife.

“Honey I’ve got to go to Arizona, Y/N’s in the hospital

Xxxxxxx

You could feel your head pounding. The beeping around you didn’t stop. The fact that you couldn’t move your body didn’t help much either. The black vision slowly started to become brighter causing you to squint your eyes in pain. A forced wince came out of your mouth. Slowly you opened your eyes and started to see the white hospital room around you.

You could see the countless wires connected to you and the beeping of the heart monitor, was ringing in your ears. You tried to sit yourself up but you found that your body was restricted, and you were struggling to sit up.

“That’s not going to work honey, you’ve cracked your ribs, and we can’t risk them breaking again” said the nurse walking in.

“Oh” you say in a quiet voice resting your head back on the pillow.

“How are you feeling honey” said the nurse bustling around the room.

“I’m fine”

“Sweetheart, I’ve had my fair share patients. And the lies I’ve heard... I can’t help you unless you tell me the truth” she said

You sigh and look down to your lap.

“Everything hurts” you say in a quiet voice, trying not to gain any attention

“I suspected, your not afraid of needles are you” asked the nurse kindly.

“Not really no” you say.

“Y/N, You have to be honest with me. I’m only trying to help you” said the nurse politely.

“Umm.. I haven’t had a needle since I was 7. I’d have no way of knowing” you say as honest as you could.

“It’ll just be a pinch, you’ll be fine”. Said the nurse.

Suddenly you feel a pinch in your arm. You’d been through much worse, this felt like nothing.

“All done” said the nurse putting a plaster on your arm.

“Can I ask you a question”

“Go ahead”

“What’s going to happen the them” you ask.

A small sigh left her lips. not knowing if you were ready for the news she hesitated...

“All three of them are missing. Found out you were in the hospital and did a runner. The police have locked down the surrounding boarders to try and find them” said the nurse.

You sighed and nodded your head.

“Why are they taking such large measures” you said.

“Y/N there’s some things you haven’t been told... how much to do you know about your father. Asked the nurse with a smile on her face.

“Mum never talked about him. I haven’t even heard him mentioned since I was seven. I didn’t think he’d want anything to do with me” you say slowly lowering your head towards your lap.

“I can assure you hon he wanted so much to have you in his life. He’s right outside that door and he wants to see his little girl”

“What do you mean” you asked.

Suddenly there was a nock on the door, and In walked another woman, in a very fancy dress suit

“Hello Y/N” said the lady taking a seat beside the white framed bed.

“What’s going on” you asked sinking deeper into the sheets of the knitted white sheets.

“ I have your father outside this door as I’m sure you’ve been told... and he’s very keen to meet you... how would you feel about meeting him”

You didn’t get to sat another word before a medium sized man walked into the room. You couldn’t believe your eyes... the world had to be playing tricks on you... there was no way.. no way at all.

“You have to be kidding me”

To be continued

[kingofthenorth49]

Made in China

I don’t know about you, but it sure feels like we are living through the start of World War III.  

Now before you scroll past and think my tin foil hat is on too tight this morning, hear me out. It’s not like this doesn’t make sense or anything, if you connect the dots it would appear that the next global conflict will look much different than the previous two.  

Think about it. China has been posturing for years to become the next world superpower, and if you can see through the medias bullshit you can read the overtures that are being made in the Asia region along with the saber rattling in the Middle East, you can see that it didn’t take long for Biden to unravel almost 50 years of progress towards peace.

War is inevitable and necessary to the state, and if you ever read Sun Tzu “Art of War”, a Chinese war treatise from the 6th dynasty you would understand the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting. He also said that the outcome of war is pre-decided and gave solid advice on the best way to conduct campaigns to conquer foreign powers.

Now before you get your panties in a bunch, I’m not accusing China of deliberately inducing a world-wide pandemic through the use of a genetically modified pathogen after spending years devaluating the US dollar using printed money (not like we have room to talk, but we also haven’t been on a buying spree like the Chinese have in say, Canada for example.), but if I were President Xi Jinping that’s what I’d do. The best war is one where you risk no resources.

Again, not saying the Chinese are attempting to destabilize the United States, not at all. Just saying if I were going to take over the world that’s how I’d do it, from a far, using disinformation and creating confusion and chaos in the streets of my enemy. Not like it hasn’t been done before.  

See many of you see people like me as conspiracy theorists, people who are to be dismissed because we believe in things others’ think are foolish, things that seem farfetched and impossible to be going on in a frame of present reference. I just see myself as a guy who likes history and reads a lot of books that were written before Google came along and dumbed down our nations. Anyone who has ever read a book on the rise of the National Socialist German Workers’ Party in 1920’s Germany would understand completely. If you were to pick up a couple other books on how Hilter rose to power on the back of that party, you’d understand also how quickly people can be manipulated, and how the media and ideology can quickly create a firestorm of hate that makes it easy for societies to crumble. Read even further on how the German army used deceptive tactics to invade Austria and Poland so quickly they didn’t have a chance to prepare.  

That’s not a conspiracy theory, that’s history and we all know those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.  

I guess watering down history is a good thing, right? Taking down statues, changing historical accounts in the name of political correctness, and not encouraging people to critically examine all aspects of history to learn from them helps us become a better society.  

Let me give you the Cole’s notes version of how quickly things can go off the rails when the wrong ideology gains traction in a society where people intend to do evil. Again, not saying our current situation is remotely commensurate with our current situation, but it’s a good example of how quickly things can go from good to evil.

Here we go.

1933 - The Nazi Party takes power in Germany. Adolf Hitler becomes chancellor (or Prime Minister) of Germany. Nazis temporarily suspend civil liberties.

1934 - Hitler combines the positions of chancellor and president to become “Fuhrer” or leader of Germany. Jewish newspapers are no longer allowed to be sold in the streets of Germany.

1935 - The Nazis intensify the persecution of people that do not agree with their political philosophy. Jews are deprived of their citizenship and other basic rights.

1936 – Nazi's boycott Jewish owned businesses. The Olympic Games are held in Germany; Signs barring Jews are removed until the event is over. Jews no longer have the right to vote.

1938 - German troops annexed Austria. On Kristallnacht, the “night of broken glass,” Nazis terrorized Jews throughout Germany and Austria and 30,000 Jews are arrested. Jews must carry ID cards (papers!) and Jewish passports are marked with a “J”. Jews no longer had businesses, attend plays, concerts etc. (maybe they were unvaccinated??)  All Jewish children are move to Jewish schools. Jewish businesses are shut down; They must sell businesses and hand over securities and jewels. Jews must hand over drivers licenses and car registrations. Jews must be in certain places at certain times.

1939- Germany takes over Czechoslovakia and invades Poland. World War Two begins as Britain in France declared war on Germany. Hitler orders that Jews must follow curfews; Jews must turn in radios to the police; Jews must wear yellow stars of David.

Now I’ll stop there.  

Those are all non-debatable historical facts, no subjectivity in my interpretation, just the facts m’am. Look how quickly one ideology took hold in a country ripe for change. At the time of the 1930’s German’s were desperate for change as they had just came out of world war 1 and were suffering from paying reparations for their conduct during that conflict and when Hilter came along he lit a fire under the German people by blaming the Jews for the loss of WW1.  

Five years. Five years from the time a tyrant took power until he was able to start killing 6 million people.

Now if you are one of those types that believe “it can’t happen again” look no further to all the other genocides over the past 100 years, up to and including the Uighur crisis currently going on in China where they have over 1 million Uighur Muslims in concentration camps and they are mass sterilizing these people to the point it’s actually consider a genocide, as it’s reducing the Muslim population in the western provinces of China though declining birthrates. If these women don’t submit to forced intra-uterine devices or monthly pregnancy tests, they are put in prisons.  

Put in prision because they needed to take a test, shot, or device and wouldn’t?  

Say it ain’t so Joe, say it ain’t so.

Folks, some people are evil. Rotten to the core. They have no soul and are in the most desperate need of getting laid of any person on the planet. That’s reality. You can choose to stick you head in the sand and pretend the boogeyman doesn’t exist, but in truth the boogey man will always exist because humans are nasty evil creatures capable of the most horrendous conduct, and if you think ignoring them or passing laws to prevent them from doing things are going to stop them, well you are just stupid. Sorry, I can’t soften that up any because I owe it to you to be blunt in these times.

Now if you’ve made it this far I think you would agree that something is amiss these days, there’s too many conspiracy theories of the past few years that are now seeming to be true, yet no one wants to talk about where the end game is. I’m not sure what it is, but I have some theories, most involved China or George Soros, but the data indicates more towards the former versus the latter.

Trudeau loves China, he’s said so on many occasions to the point of gushing over their communist form of government. His father was a Marxist, and his mother loved communists. Literally. **bow chica bow wow**

Hunter Biden and the Big Guy are in bed with the Chinese in a different way that Margret and Fidel. We’ve seen the emails, the testimony, and the allegations. For them, it’s about money. Last week the Big Guy shut down the investigation that Trump started into the Wuhan lab. That’s now created a firestorm that will likely make 9/11 look like a traffic accident. Coincidence? I think not.

We recently had two Chinese scientists with ties to the Chinese People’s Army kicked out of our highest security epidemiology lab here in Canada after CSIS had concerns they were passing information back to the Wuhan lab (a lab so highly classified Canadian scientists have a hard time getting security clearances to access it), and Trudeau drew the ire of senior Canadian military personnel when he bullied them into allowing the Chinese to hold winter war games at CFB Petawawa. Why is Trudeau so moonstruck with China?

Dot, Dot, Dot.

Once again, I hope I’m wrong. I really, really do, but go back and walk that timeline again and ask yourself if you now understand why Netanyahu hit Hamas as hard as he did.

Never again.

Can you blame him Comrades?

Now as you sit here in North America today, especially in Canada, does it not seem eerily similar to what has happened before in history? Keep in mind that Jews were loaded onto boxcars under the premise to take them to safety from the angry German peoples.  

I really do hope my tinfoil hat is too tight and it’s cutting off the circulation to my frontal lobe, I want the Canada back I grew up in, and the America I fell in love with. I just hope this really is just a bad bug that’s part of a cyclical pattern of virology and this isn’t the start of a global war to reorganize the planet power structure and de-populate the globe.

The dots just tell a different story.

Jim Out.

[qqueenofhades]

I have a question about your opinion as a historian about how to deal with problematic past. I am French, not American, so not quite as aware of what is happening right now in the US regarding statues as I probably should. My question is the following: many of the politicians who promoted (admittedly white) social equality in France, worked on reforming labor laws, etc, in the 19th / 20th century were certainly not anti-colonialist. How to deal with this "mixed legacy" today? Best wishes to you!

First off, I am honoured that you would ask me this question. Disclaimer, my work in French history is largely focused on the medieval era, rather than modern France, and while I have studied and traveled in France, and read and (adequately?) speak French, I am not French myself. So this should be viewed as the perspective of a friendly and reasonably well-informed outsider, but not somebody from France themselves, and therefore subject to possible errors or otherwise inaccurate statements. But this is my perception as I see it, so hopefully it will be helpful for you.

(By the way if you’re interested, my post on the American statue controversy and the “preserving history!” argument is here. I originally wrote it in 2017, when the subject of removing racist monuments first arose, and then took another look at it in light of recent events and was like “WELP”.)

There’s actually a whole lot to say about the current crisis of public history in a French context, so let me see if I can think where to start. First, my chief impression is that nobody really associates France with its historical empire, the same way everyone still has either a positive or negative impression of the British Empire and its real-world effects. The main international image of France (one carefully cultivated by France itself) is that of the French Revolution: storming the Bastille, guillotining aristocrats, Liberté, égalité, fraternité, a secular republic overcoming old constraints of a hidebound Catholic aristocracy and reinventing itself as a Modern Nation. Of course, less than a generation after the Revolution (and this has always amused/puzzled me) France swung straight back into autocratic expansionist empire under Napoleon, and its colonialism efforts continued vigorously alongside its European counterparts throughout the nineteenth and well into the twentieth century. France has never really reckoned with its colonialist legacy either, not least because of a tendency in French public life for a) strong centralization, and b) a national identity that doesn’t really allow for a hyphen. What I mean by that is that while you can be almost anything before “American,” ie. African-American, Latino-American, Jewish-American, Muslim-American, etc, you are (at least in my experience) expected to only be “French.” There is a strong nationalistic identity primarily fueled by language, values, and lifestyle, and the French view anyone who does not take part in it very dimly. That’s why we have the law banning the burka and arguments that it “inhibits” Muslim women from visually and/or emotionally assimilating into French culture. There is a very strong pressure for centralization and conformity, and that is not flexible.

Additionally, the aforementioned French lifestyle identity involves cafe culture, smoking, and drinking alcohol -- all things that, say, a devout Muslim is unlikely to take part in. The secularism of French political culture is another factor, along with the strict bureaucracy and interventionist government system. France narrowly dodged getting swept up in the right-wing populist craze when it elected Emmanuel Macron over Marine Le Pen (and it’s my impression that the FN still remains relatively popular) but it also has a deep-grained xenophobia. I’m sure you remember “French Spiderman,” the 22-year-old man from Mali who climbed four stories of a building in Paris to rescue a toddler in 2018. He was immediately hailed as a hero and allowed to apply for French citizenship, but critics complained about him arriving in France illegally in the first place, and it happened alongside accelerated efforts to deny asylum seekers, clear out the Calais migrant camp, and otherwise maintain a hostile environment. The terror attacks in France, such as 2015 in Paris and the 2016 Bastille Day attack in Nice, have also stiffened public opinion against any kind of accommodation or consideration of non-French (and by implication, non-white) Frenchpeople. The Académie Française is obviously also a very strong linguistic force (arguably even more so than the English-only movement in America) that excludes people from “pure” French cultural status until they meet its criteria. There really is no French identity or civic pride without the French language, so that is also something to take into consideration.

France also has a strong anti-authority and labor rights movement that America does not have (at least the latter). When I was in France, the joke was about the “annual strike” of students and railway workers, which was happening while I was trying to study, and we saw that with the yellow jacket protests as well. Working-class France is used to making a stink when it feels that it’s being disrespected, and while I can’t comment in detail on how the racial element affects that, I know there has been tension and discontent from working-class, racial-minority neighborhoods in Paris about how they’ve been treated (and during the recent French police brutality protests, the police chief rejected any idea that the police were racist, despite similar deaths in custody of black men including another French Malian, Adama Traoré.) All of this adds up to an atmosphere in which race relations, and their impact on French history, is a very fraught subject in which discussions are likely to get heated (as discussions of race relations with Europeans and white people tend to get, but especially so). The French want to be French, and feel very strongly that everyone else in the country should be French as well, which can encompass a certain race-blindness, but not a cultural toleration. There’s French culture, the end, and there isn’t really an accommodation for hybrid or immigrant French cultures. Once again, this is again my impression and experience.

The blind spot of 19th-century French social reformers to colonialism is not unlike Cold War-era America positioning itself as the guarantor of “freedom and liberation” in the world, while horrendously oppressing its black citizens (which did come in for sustained international criticism at the time). Likewise with the American founding fathers including soaring rhetoric about the freedom and equality of all (white) men in the Constitution, while owning slaves. The efforts of (white) social reformers and political activists have refused to see black and brown people as human, and therefore worthy of meriting the same struggle for liberation, for... well, almost forever, and where those views did change, it had to come about as a process and was almost never there to start with. “Scientific” white supremacy was especially the rage in the nineteenth century, where racist and imperialist European intellectuals enjoyed a never-ending supply of “scientific” literature explaining how black, brown, and other men of color were naturally inferior to white men and they had a “duty” to civilize the helpless people of Africa, Asia, Latin America, and so on, who just couldn’t aspire to do it themselves. (This is where we get the odious “white man’s burden” phrase. How noble of them.) So the nineteenth-century social reformers were, in their minds, just doing what science told them to do; slavery abolitionists and other relief societies for black and brown people were often motivated by deeply racist “assimilationist” ideas about making these poor helpless people “fit” for white civilization, at which point racial prejudice would magically end. This might have been more “benevolent” than outright slave-owning racism, but it was no less damaging and paternalistic.

If you’re interested in reading about French colonialism and postcolonialism from a Black French perspective, I recommend Frantz Fanon (who you may have already heard of) and his 1961 magnum opus The Wretched of the Earth/ Les Damnés de la Terre. (There is also his 1952 work, Black Skin, White Masks.) Fanon was born in Martinique, served in World War II, and was part of the struggle for Algerian liberation from France. He was a highly influential and controversial postcolonial theorist, not least for his belief that decolonialization would never be achieved without violence (which, to say the least, unnerved genteel white society). I feel as if France in general needs to have a process of deep soul-searching about its relationship to race and its own imperial history (French Indochina/Vietnam being another obvious example with recent geopolitical implications), because it’s happy to let Britain take the flak for its unexamined and triumphalist imperial nostalgia. (One may remark that of course France is happy to let Britain make a fool of itself and hope that nobody notices its similar sins....) This is, however, currently unlikely to happen on a broad scale for the social and historical reasons that I discussed above, so I really applaud you for taking the initiative in starting that conversation and reaching out for resources to help you in doing it. Hopefully it will help you put the legacy of these particular social reformers in context and offer you talking points both for what they did well and where their philosophy fell short.

If there does come a point of a heightened racial conversation and reckoning in France (and there have been Black Lives Matter protests there in the last few weeks, so it’s not impossible) I would be curious to see what it looks like. It’s arguably one of the Western countries that has least dealt with its racial issues while making itself into the standard-bearer for secular Western liberalism. France has also enthusiastically joined in the EU, whereas Britain has (rather notoriously....) separated from all that, which makes Britain look provincial and isolated while France can position itself as a global leader with a more internationalist outlook. Emmanuel Macron and Angela Merkel are currently leading the effort for the $500 billion coronavirus rescue package for the EU, which gives it a sense of statesmanship and stature. It will be interesting to see how that continues to change and develop vis-a-vis race, or if it does.

Thanks so much for such an interesting question, and I hope that helped!

[where-s-all-blue]

A short drabble that I simply couldn't get out of my head.

ZRRRRRRTTTT ZRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTT GRRCH

A pair of tired and highly annoyed eyes stared at the wall behind the computer screen. It was seven on this "splendid" Friday evening that had only been going gradually worse for him just like the entire day. First of all, the previous night had been yet another sleepless one as the man in question had been subjected to the loudness of the passing cars, more precisely an ambulance and a firetruck that both had their alarms on for some god forsaken reason at two am when literally no-one was even on the streets. It had been followed after by his neighbour upstairs deciding to hoover their apartment at three am, series of annoyed elderly people fighting at five am and finally him giving up at seven o'clock to get breakfast. Single cup of coffee counted as such right?

Tattooed hands rested on the keyboard, an empty essay page taunting him. He was supposed to have it done by nine, but he literally couldn't concentrate on anything. Finally giving up, Trafalgar Law messaged his guardian, one very clumsy special force officer, pleading him to bring a pair of noise cancelling headphones while explaining the situation. The answer was immediate; a key smash followed by another message that said that the person would be there in an hour. Typical. The man had probably fallen down the stairs once more.

Law slowly got up and moved slowly into the kitchen to get yet another cup of coffee, to mend his horrendous headache while cursing his neighbour, who lived on the other side of that cursed wall. Just who in their right mind would start renovating at FIVE IN THE EVENING?! Oh how he yearned to live in a regular house instead of this horrible construct of a building where he had to deal with not only sensing his neighbours' presence but also hear the sounds that they made. Which was weird considering the fact that his apartment was technically sound proof. Technically.

You see, Trafalgar Law had very sharp senses to the point where he could hear that annoying high pitched sound of the lamps metal chords vibrating, he was also very sensitive to light and touch along with scents. For this reason he never kept the lights on in his home, there simply was no need to, and wore a beanie styled cap even indoors. He was used to masking his peculiarities and gritting his teeth, his senses causing him to look for solitude and peace. His classmates never invited him to parties thinking that he was a proud bastard who saw himself to be too cool for them. And frankly speaking, he was more than fine with that. He didn't go to the university to befriend anyone, he came there to study a profession, graduate and then vanish from the radar only to reappear sooner or later as a doctor or a surgeon in some hospital.

After all, it's not like we truly pay attention to the health care workers who actually do their jobs. Same goes with artists who work in movies and games, it's easy to forget the presence of someone who creates a service that you either rarely use or use all the time.

Another sound of the damned drill made Law shut his eyes tightly and cover his ears, dropping a spoonful of instant coffee powder in the process. The dark brown powder spread on the grey counter, where it was left unattended as the raven just simply couldn't stand the sound anymore. It felt like his head was about to explode.

The sunlight that was bouncing around the white walls of the apartment made his eyes hurt, the sound of the drill made his ears bleed, over all he was overwhelmed by sensations to the point where he was sure that he'd faint. He sat down on the floor, instinctively curling into a protective ball of anxiety and pain, and waited.

This was the position from which Rosinante found him from, which made the blonde's heart ache. He really needed to do something to have his adoptive son to be able to live a life at least moderately normally. Prying the hands off of Law's ears, replacing them with the muffs, Rosinante smiled reassuringly. The young man looked at him with pained eyes, it was more than clear that this was not a good time to goof around.

The special force personnel had the university student take a seat, the blonde's eyes scanning for clues on what he'd been doing before shutting down like this. He soon spotted the painkiller and the unfinished coffee making, which made him frown slightly. He wasn't sure that those would've even helped his son in this situation. But... Rosinante also knew that coffee had a calming effect on Law and thus, he chose to finish making that cupful for him.

Law was breathing heavily, slowly taking in air and equally slowly blowing it out as an attempt to even it and to calm down. His eyes were closed as the light was still being an issue, but the blessed silence was helping enormously his pain. He could sense his father walking around his apartment carefully, trying his best not to trip over and break anything, soon followed by the scent of coffee.

There was no need to say a thing, they both knew how things were.

Law was a lot more sensitive than a normal person was and the person on the other side of the wall was an inconsiderate fool. Rosinante just hoped that the latter would soon stop with the loudness so that his little boy could have at least slightly less overwhelming environment.

Finally, Law shot a tired smile at Rosinante and mouthed the words "Thank you Cora-San".

Rosinante once more swore that he'd be ready to kill someone to protect that shaky shy smile of his adopted son.

[alexthepartyman]

When I’m Saved (Part 2)

“The press looks horrendous,” Agent Jareau says, looking out towards the front of the hotel as the team exits their SUVs. “Ah, Lieutenant Kim.” 

“Agent Jareau. Rossi, Reid, Prentiss. Where are Hotchner and Morgan?”

“They retired. These are Agents Simmons, Alvez, and Section Chief Cruz. We have an Agent in Peyton with Dmitri’s father,” Agent Prentiss answers. “How is the group coping?”

“We should get inside.” The lieutenant says, escorting the team into the hotel’s back entrance. “The hotel has been placed on lockdown, only law enforcement is coming and going. We’ve questioned all of the kids and the chaperones. Some of the kids are devastated, some are pleased that Dmitri is gone. The kids are in their respective rooms, and the chaperones are in the Monterey ballroom. The girls are in Room 407 with the colour guard staff and two chaperones, officers have been stationed outside the room.” 

“Pleased?”

“Dmitri isn’t so well accepted outside of his friends. One of the kids in his grade claims Dmitri broke his nose, and other kids have backed up the story. Dmitri has also been the subject of a few harassment incidents in school. Here is a list of people that know Dmitri the best.” Section Chief Cruz takes the list and scans over it.

“How is Mr and Mrs Tremblay taking this?”

“Mrs Tremblay hasn’t had much of a reaction. Mr Tremblay is angry about everything, but has cooperated. The colour guard staff, Dmitri’s direct coaches, are taking it very hard.” 

“How is the colour guard taking it?”

“Most are sad, confused, angry. Some of them don’t see Dmitri favourably. One is exclusively regarding to Dmitri as Rhys.” 

“One of them was a next-door neighbour?”

“Yes, LeAnne Owens. Dmitri was a friend of hers before they moved away into a neighbourhood that suited their Mormon beliefs more.” 

“Religion? Peyton’s separated by religion?” Agent Prentiss asks. 

“The town is mostly Mormon, a church on nearly every block in the downtown area. Those who aren’t Mormon aren’t treated very well once the others find out, apparently. Dmitri has been shunned for a few years, most kids only interact with him during group projects.” 

“They probably took advantage of him because of his intellect,” Dr Reid comments. “Dmitri’s IQ is apparently one hundred and eighty seven. Autistic individuals tend to be more excluded by their peers and have troubles relating to neurotypical peers. The other kids would likely not understand how he functions and behaves, and he would struggle to maintain friendships. He would likely just think they were being his friends and not be able to see that other people were manipulating him to get what they wanted.” 

“Our command center is in the La Paz ballroom. We have five officers monitoring the tip lines, and the media has been running broadcasts since one am.”

“What have the media been saying?” Agent Jareau asks. 

“We told them that Dmitri disappeared, and that anyone who might have seen what happened to him should call the hotline. We haven’t confirmed or denied that Dmitri was abducted, but it’s starting to look like that’s what happened. Park search came up empty, we issued an Amber Alert for Los Angeles and the neighbouring counties around three am, stressing that Dmitri’s health is fragile. Free coffee in the lobby, but warning, it’s as bad as our station coffee.”

“Matt, Reid, go up to Room 407,” Agent Prentiss says. “Ask very specifically about what happened last night and our unsubs. Ask them if Diego or Jacob could have taken Dmitri. The adults may not know about what happened, so tread carefully. Luke, you and Rossi should go to the Monterey ballroom and talk with the Tremblays, Mrs Mellencamp, Mrs Kilburn, and any other chaperones that interacted with Dmitri yesterday. JJ, Cruz, and I will set up in the command center, touch bases with PG and Tara. We’ll text you any new information that comes in. Mobiles on. Head out.” 

“Sanchez. Escort Agent Simmons and Dr Reid up to Room 407,” Lieutenant Kim says, stopping a passing officer in his tracks. “BAU. They’re going to question the kids.” 

“Of course. There’s only one functioning elevator in this hotel, but staircases in every corner. Come with me.” The buff Asian and the pipe cleaner with eyes break off from the group, heading back towards the nearest staircase.

“Only one elevator?” Agent Jareau asks as the team follows the lieutenant towards the lobby. 

“Yes, only one. If they couldn’t grab the elevator, the kids would drag their things up the staircases. There wasn’t much comment on Dmitri’s mobility, but Mrs Kilburn did share with us a picture of Dmitri in the Main Street USA parade.” Agent Prentiss squints at the picture and takes a picture of it with her phone. “What is it?”

“Look at the way his left hand grabs the pole vs how the others in the picture are holding the pole, and how his smile droops on the left side of his face.”

“What does that mean?”

“The right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, it looks like that’s where he took the most damage. Look at those transition lenses.” Agent Alvez points to the glasses in the picture. “Those would hide a drooping left eye.” 

“This is the Monterey ballroom,” Lieutenant Kim announces, pushing the door to the conference room open. Agents Alvez and Rossi nod and pass through the door, closing it behind them. 

“Excuse me,” Agent Rossi asks, approaching another officer. “We’re with the FBI, and we’re looking for John and Amy Tremblay.” The officer points towards an older, balding man and an older woman with red hair holding his hand at a table. “Thank you.” The Italian Stallion and the buff, steaming mug of hot cocoa then head to the table, Agent Rossi sitting across from the couple. “Mr and Mrs Tremblay, we’re Agents Rossi and Alvez with the FBI. We’re a few of the agents helping to find Dmitri.”

“FBI?” A woman with dark curly hair asks, ending her hushed conversation with a woman with red curly hair.

“Yes, ma’am, FBI. We have a few questions about Dmitri. The more we can understand about his behaviour, the more we can figure out what happened to him and how to help him. Who might you be, ma’am?” 

“I’m Jill Mellencamp. I assist with band finances and keep all the records. This is Connie Hiratsu, she’s one of the chaperones.”

“When did you last see Dmitri?”

“Nine pm. He was with his friends, leaving Splash Mountain,” Mr Tremblay answers. 

“What was he wearing?”

“Our grey shirts we gave the kids, rainbow shoes. A rainbow bowtie, rainbow ears.”

“Interesting attire. Do you know of anybody Dmitri would know here in Los Angeles? Did he tell you he was meeting up with anybody?”

“No,” Mr Tremblay answers, his piecing blue eyes beaming through the agent in front of him.

“Has he ever been caught speaking to strangers?”

“This one time, last year, I had found him after our halftime performance, and a tall man was holding him while he was crying. I separated them and had our drum major and seniors watch over Dmitri. He did not tell me why he was upset or who the man was.”

“He knows better than to talk to strangers. He’s in high school, he knows the rules,” Connie argues. 

“Connie. He’s hurting right now. Arguing about it isn’t going to help him.” 

“Are you guys going to tell them how much trouble he is?” She retorts. 

“Connie-”

“He threw a water bottle, had a tantrum, and screamed at me, like he was a toddler. Was I supposed to just let him represent our school and organisation poorly? Other people might think we’re snobs if they saw that-”

“Mrs Hiratsu. What exactly was happening?” 

“He was upset, and he threw a water bottle at the ground, and I told him that high schoolers don’t throw things, and he wouldn’t calm down or tell me what was going on. He was throwing a tantrum-”

“Connie. Loud noises and crowds stress Dmitri out. He was freaking out because he didn’t have his ticket into the park and he couldn’t find Ressa Kilburn, so I had him go through the security checkpoint with me and my family, and afterwards, he ran away, but he came back to the group after a few minutes. Mrs Anderson told us she went to talk to him.”

“He aimed it at the ground or at someone?” Agent Alvez asks. 

“At the ground, but it shouldn’t matter. He was acting out of line.” 

“Mrs Hiratsu, Dmitri has autism, and he gets overwhelmed and shuts down. Now when he shuts down, he might be aggressive or defensive, throwing things or screaming,” Agent Alvez replies. “Him aiming the bottle at the ground is better than if he aimed it at a person. It means that he is semi-aware of his surroundings in his state, and he is empathetic and doesn’t want to disrupt things.”

“Then why would he do that?”

“He doesn’t want to do it, but he just does. He probably feels embarrassed that he reacts like that.” 

“He is rather empathetic. If you raise your voice at him, he’ll think you’re mad at him, and then it takes forever for him to get that you’re not mad at him. He always thinks Jill and I are mad at him.” 

“How is he, socially? Does he get along well with the other kids?”

“No, he’s always closed off from the others. Most people don’t even realise he’s there.”

“If he had his way, he’d be in the corner with his music and his notebook,” Mrs Tremblay adds.

“We try to get him to participate with others, but he always just does his own thing. Jill, you’re also involved with the musical theatre program, and you interact with Dmitri there.” 

“Yes, I do, but he’s practically the same way. He gets really embarrassed to have to talk in front of other kids, just almost shuts down, he starts stammering and stuttering and panicking.” 

“He wouldn’t tell anyone if there was something wrong.” 

“Exactly. Nick, Lily, and Arthur have better luck getting him out of his shell, but he still doesn’t ask for help unless you start the conversation. I can see it when it’s just the guard, but I don’t know how to explain it. He laughs more, smiles more with them. Nick and Lily tell me that he actually reaches out to the new guard kids, which is unheard of.” 

“Could any of you tell us how Dmitri changed after his last concussion, three weeks ago?” Agent Alvez asks. 

“He smiles more, laughs more, asks more questions. He’s definitely more outspoken, but he falls asleep everywhere. I don’t know how he falls asleep on the school bus seats, but he does.”

“I caught him sleeping in the doorway one morning during musical theatre class. He’ll just take little naps during class. He seems to be a lot dizzier, falls a lot more.” 

“Yes. He falls when he laughs, and since he laughs at everything now, he always falls. He’s been walking around with hoods up, headphones on, using the walls as supports.” 

“Do his eyes glaze over? Does he eat enough to compensate for the high activity levels? We noticed he’s smaller than most.” 

“The nosebleed. Do you think that was anything serious?” 

“He acted like it was,” Connie asks. 

“A nosebleed?”

“He bled out all over the boys’ bathroom once, and it took half an hour to get him to stop bleeding. He was accepting the sugar we provided him, but he freaked out once we mentioned afrin, wouldn’t let us give it to him, he thought we were going to give him aspirin. He couldn’t figure out what was happening to him, and he was texting his grandparents.” 

“Okay, okay.” The four adults fall silent, appearing to hold a lifetime back. “Thank you. We’ll come back if we have any more questions.”

[physioblr]

Hello followers!

Sorry for not making original studyblr content in forever. I should update you on what has happened since Autumn quarter.

Autumn Quarter:

I had a terrible quarter. I managed to have an awful biology professor, the kind of professor that is proud of the fact that his exam distributions look like barf. He also revealed himself to be racist and taught the ecology unit with most settler colonial savior complex imaginable. Oh, and he admitted to 600 students that he failed his grad exams and only got his job as a lecturer because of his father-in-law — he used this story as a sort of failed attempt at ‘you fail and fail and then you become successful someday’ weird inspirational narrative.

I didn’t fail his class by any stretch of the imagination, but it did bring down my cumulative 4.0 GPA.

I also had a disability access coordinator that I didn’t really click with. She has dyscalculia, but had internalized a lot of ableism. She didn’t seem to get why I was doing a STEM degree and thought I was trying to pull a fast one with an accommodation. It was really gross, considering accommodations are my legal right and it was her job to help me make sure professors are following federal law.

I got rather depressed, had panic attacks on the regular, and my ADHD got really bad. I had to realize I had very few tools for dealing with the emotional dysregulation part of ADHD. I was not my best self.

Winter Quarter:

I had a wonderful quarter. Though, I had to study like a professional athlete to get a 4.0. I discovered I loved organic chemistry winter quarter and was really good at helping others understand it. It almost made me want to change my major. My orgo professor was amazing! He was really respectful and chill about my accommodations. Everyone loved him, and our whole class got fairly good grades.

I got assigned a different access coordinator. She seemed nice enough. I didn’t have much contact with her at all because I didn’t need much help getting accommodations implemented.

I also worked on my emotional regulation tools a lot over winter. It took a lot of mindfulness practice and I improved a lot.

Spring Quarter:

I had a terrible and exhausting quarter. My biochem professor was a piece of work. She was really insecure. She pulled a Jeb Bush and asked for praise during lectures, it was so cringe. She was also really ableist. I emailed her to start the ‘interactive process’ regarding my disabilities (as per university policy) before the quarter started. She didn’t reply until my access coordinator and the department made her — her excuse was that her email somehow was broken for over a month. She fought me on accommodations basically every week, wouldn’t listen to directions from my access coordinator, and was just overall insufferable.

It wasn’t just me that had issue with her. The whole class was close to rioting because of how unprofessional and unprepared she was to be head lecturer. I got some tea from the TAs and apparently the head TA went to bat for us about her exams being insane. One TA also told me that the course content was impossible, he had a year to learn it and we only had a quarter.

Despite all her shenanigans, I got a 4.0. I studied 4-6 hours a day. The class distribution was a nightmare. The standard deviation got larger for every exam, and the class average got lower too. It was horrendous. I’m not sure how I got an A.

I have a feeling my access coordinator is going to reassign me in September. I had her help me a lot. So much that although it’s her job, I felt guilty. I would get panic attacks when my biochem professor would challenge an exam accommodation because of her feels . I would also get panic attacks when the professor didn’t email me worksheets in accessible text (and as an extra time for assigned work accommodation) — this made it really difficult for me to participate in group work. So, I had to ask my access coordinator to deal with her. It felt like I was just re-experiencing all ableist teacher trauma if I tried to deal with her.

What I’m up to this summer:

I’m recovering from burnout. By the time Spring finals came around, I was feeling incredibly burned out. All I wanted to do was sleep and laze about. So, I took a few weeks off after finals.

I’m getting swol. My workout routine got sacrificed too often in favor of studying. I got to the point where I felt guilty about it if I wasn’t using quizlet while at the gym. It was unhealthy. Going to the gym is super important and helps lessen my hyperactive symptoms (without cranking up my medication dose). So, this summer I started lifting and doing cardio regularly.

I’m learning R. I’m already kind of familiar with it, but I have forgotten a lot that I learned and I want to go about it more deliberately this time.

I’m volunteering for Extinction Rebellion (rebellion.earth) by making educational and promotional materials. I will share them on here this summer! In case you all don’t already know — we have 10 years until we reach a point of no return on walking back the effects of climate change. Please join an activist group like extinction rebellion in your area! We seriously need more people getting involved if we are going to stop the extinction of our species.

I’m making ADHD & dyscalculia friendly study-guides (I think that is what I have landed on calling them, but if you all have better suggestions let me know!) which is basically material condensed down to something a lot more manageable but a bit less personal than notes. The subjects I’m covering are organic chemistry, general chemistry, biochemistry, biology, and probably statistics. I’m going to be selling them online, and I will definitely link them here if you all are interested!

Due the above, I will be reviving #studycation posts! (:

[Pictured: My university campus, photos taken over several quarters]

[futureplanetconcept-blog]

Boris Johnson’s Infamous Burka Comments: A hill I’ve chosen to die on.

In August 2018, the then aspiring Primeminister, Boris Johnson, wrote an article for The Telegraph, in which he criticised Denmark, along with other European countries for introducing bans on women wearing a burka in public spaces.

He did so on the grounds that any woman should be able to wear whatever they like in a free society. This point was willfully missed by Johnson’s critics who instead focused on one remark in the article where he said, women wearing it look like “letterboxes.” Those critics, in all their fury, slated him for being anti-Muslim, a racist, and a misogynist; accusations I object to given his actual point.

The critique that the garment makes you look like a letterbox is just like any other opinion on any other item of clothing. This happens all the time. We have tv shows dedicated to critiquing fashion. We have groups/communities/trends that are identifiable by their dress codes, and we’re all allowed an opinion on them. Even if the comment is nasty, any one is within their right to think and say such things. The one legitimate criticism I accept of Johnson here is that a prominent politician should not be making that sort of remark given their position and function in society. A social penalty should follow in such cases, but in this case, the accusations are inaccurate.

The main concern about his opinion is that it dehumanised Muslim women. If Johnson’s comments did that, it’s only because the garment is dehumanising, and what those aligned with his critics fail to realise is that it is designed to be dehumanising. The burka is one of the most misogynistic religious doctrines going. The idea behind women covering is that they are the property of their husbands/fathers and should not be seen by other men, (else they be raped.) This was another component of BJ’s article that was ignored, that the burka is a very conservative, sexist practise.

Another issue I have with the criticism of Johnson is the moral relativism. Some Western liberals decline to judge such practises and religious doctrines because they can’t objectively determine what is right or wrong, even though, this particular doctrine, they would never accept for their own daughters/wives or themselves. For the west it is clearly wrong, but somehow it’s a good thing for women in Afghanistan? I consider that to be a bigoted position on this subject.

The Burka is either forced upon Muslim women, as I hinted at above, or it is a choice. Where it is a choice (like in the west because of our laws of free expression and equality), then you could win money all day long betting on what the views of the women wearing a burka are. It is a conservative outfit. It is a symbol and a sign of conservative Islamic beliefs. What does the women choosing to wear it think of gay marriage, I wonder?

Thankfully, the burka is quite rare, but in most of those cases, the women are forced to wear it. Therefore, Boris’s critics are apologising for rape culture. Their sheer ignorance is leading a belief that the dress itself should be respected as a cultural treasure.

It’s possible that Boris was being insensitive to the women who are forced to wear it, but more likely is that by mocking the burka the intention was actually to highlight that it is a dehumanising garment forced upon women by a patriarchal ideology.

The other heavy accusation of Johnson’s piece is that his words were a dog whistle to racists. That somehow he was calling for and approving of, hatred towards Muslim women and approving of attacks on them. This is hysterical nonsense, but if we linger on it for a moment, and accept that such a statement could be a dog whistle, then I will point out that the Qur’an offers a much more dangerous signal to Muslims.

Sections of the Qur’an make it plainly clear who it doesn’t like and it repeats to the believers many violent calls to action against those it doesn’t like. What’s more, this book is believed to be the perfect word of the greater of the universe, much more influential than a clumsy politician with a bad haircut, right? Those claiming Johnson’s comments were a dog whistle are likely the same people who’ve bent over backwards to argue that Islamic scriptures are the most metaphorical of all metaphors or have denied its influence all together.

That is my defence of BJ’s comments. If you’re going to pick a side on him when this story inevitably crops up again, think carefully. Where the burka is forced upon women, it is done so because of a horrendous patriarchal ideology. Where it is a choice, it is not a feminist choice.

[moonmothmama]

it’s not as if i forget that my mother isn’t an only child ... it’s more that i think of her as one, while in the back of my mind (very, very far back) i am dimly aware that i have an uncle.

they never fell out; i feel sure that by now if that had been the case we’d have talked about it. and on the rare occasion that the subject of my uncle john and his absence in our lives comes up, it’s not bitterness i see on my mother’s face, but something more like confusion. i don’t think she knows why he dropped out of her life.

i don’t know exactly when it was, either, because it was definitely before i was born (i can count on one hand the number of times i’ve met him)... though from what i hear from my older brother, it was probably sometime after he was born. or maybe it wasn’t. i don’t know. all i know is that when he was a kid, he knew our cousins. or cousin, honestly, because of my uncle john’s two sons, he only really knew the eldest. the youngest is closer to my age, and i have met him precisely once that i can ever recall. 

anyway.

my uncle john is really only a name and a face to me. one of the few times i met him was at each of my grandparents’ funerals. my nan died first, and after that, my mother took the train into queens every day to take care of him.

uncle john wasn’t around for that.

uncle john never once showed his face when my mother moved her father into our house. our already crowded house. she cared for him through multiple serious illnesses, for many long years, and i don’t even remember my uncle’s name being spoken.

so i suppose it shouldn’t be surprising that my mother had to hear about her sister in law passing away by seeing my cousin’s wife’s post about it on facebook. i can tell she’s hurt though.

if i ever met my aunt patty i don’t remember. i probably saw her at a funeral. she seemed like a nice person, though.

two of my three siblings live in different states, my older brother lives in the city and is horrendously busy. i don’t speak to any of them nearly as often as i’d like, let alone see them. i practically never get to see my sister.

but i will be god damned if i’m going to let anything like what happened to my mom happen to any of us. she deserved better. everyone with siblings deserves better. i know, of course, that people don’t always get what they deserve. sometimes it’s because of circumstances out of anyone’s control, sometimes it’s because your siblings are shitty people (as in the case of my father’s sister, for example), or because there was a falling out, or sometimes it’s because they, apparently, cannot be fucking bothered to act like a member of their family. and that’s awful and i feel for anyone who has a family situation like that. but i say again: not me. not my brothers, not my sister.

in conclusion, [very long sigh]