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themollyjay · 3 years

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The Glorification of Abusive Relationships

Trigger Warning: Discussions of Child Abuse and Intimate Partner Violence

I’m an abuse survivor. I’ve been pretty vocal about that over the years. I spent 21 years in an abusive home and 13 years in an abusive relationship. I was so used to the abuse and had been so thoroughly gaslit by my abusers that it took my sister-in-law years to convince me I was even being abused. I just thought that was how people treated each other.

I was 34 years old before I lived in an environment where I wasn’t being abused constantly, and to be perfectly honest, it was hard to adjust to the lack of abuse. I was depressed, I was lonely, I felt ignored and isolated. I lashed out at people I loved. I ruined a relationship that meant the world to me. I went from manic highs during the first years, to 2 solid years of suicidal depression. 11 years later, I still have issues. I’m easily triggered. I have flashbacks. I have nightmares. I have days where all I want to do is cry. I have days where I can’t get out of bed, and days where looking in the mirror makes me sick to my stomach.

Now, hold that thought for a minute, because we’re going to come back to it shortly.

I love romance. Not necessarily the entire romance genre, but I love stories about people falling in love and stories about people being in love. I adore pining, slow burns, friends to lovers, forbidden romance, secret relationships, hurt/comfort, domesticity, fluff and more. I can’t get enough of it.

As a reader, and as an author, I recognize the fact that a story needs conflict. It’s a part of what makes a story work. The conflict can be fairly minor, or the conflict can be a fight to save the universe, but there has to be some sort of conflict to drive the story. When a story centers around romance, the conflict needs to be connected to the relationship in some way, which brings us back around to abuse.

A disturbingly common occurrence in the romance genre is for both readers and writers to confuse conflict with abuse. Writers have a character do horrible things to a person they are supposed to be in love with, and the audience, instead of being horrified, swoons and talks about how delicious the angst is.

I hate it. I hate seeing it happen over and over again. I hate it in books, I hate it in movies, I hate it in TV shows. I hate the fact that if you say anything about it, if you criticize the character for the horrible thing they’ve done, if you dare to call it abuse, the fans, and often the writer, will blame the character who is being abused.

I don’t understand it at all. I like romance stories because for me they’re a happy place. I like them because they are supposed to be about two people who care about each other and love each other, and who find joy and comfort and happiness together. I don’t go to romance stories because I want to relieve the worst years of my life. I don’t go there because I am looking to relive the abuse it took me decades to escape.

Abuse is conflict, but abuse as conflict has no place in romance. I am normally hesitant to tell anyone they shouldn’t write something, but I will say that no writer should write a story where an abuser and their victim have a happily ever after together. No writer should ever write a story that blames a victim for their abuse.

I see it over and over again, and it’s a nightmare. It’s like being told that all the horrible things that happened to me in the 13 years I was with my ex were my fault, that I’m to blame for every horrible thing she said and did to me. It’s like being told that if I’d just tried harder, if I’d just been more understanding when she was grinding my soul under her heel, that everything would have worked out in the end.

I want to ask, seriously, if we can stop doing this. If we can stop treating abuse like it’s swoon worthy. Because it’s not healthy. It’s teaching people to accept and even romanticize their own mistreatment. It’s teaching abusers that they are the hero, and if their victim fights back, then it’s the victim that’s wrong.

People will say it’s just fiction. It’s just a story. But stories have power. We see people acknowledge that all the time when they talk about representation in fiction. We see them talk about the power of seeing POC or queer narratives in media. We’re perfectly fine acknowledging the power of stories then. But the moment we start talking about the damage these narratives do, it goes back to ‘it’s just a story’.

Except, it’s not ‘just’ a story. It never is.

I’m a writer. Most of my work is focused on romance. It’s usually a driving force in my stories. I won’t pretend that the romances are always perfectly healthy, but the thing I try to center in any romance I write is genuine care for each other. I never write characters who set out to hurt each other. I never write abuse and frame it as romance.

I never want my writing to make the world a worse place.

If you’re a writer, I’m begging you to look at your work and really ask yourself if the relationships are abusive or not. If they are, fix them, or at the very least, frame them as abusive, rather than romantic.

If you’re a reader, I’m begging you to look at what you’re reading, and ask yourself if these characters are really treating each other with love and care, or are they taking out their anger and frustration on each other. Are they deliberately hurting each other? And if they are, ask yourself why you think that’s romantic? Why do you think abuse is something to swoon over? Is it because you really think it is, or is it because you’ve seen it glorified and held up as the exemplar of relationships in media?

Romances are stories, but a story is never just a story. Every story we read, every story we write, shapes us and our world view. It changes who we are, even if it’s just a little bit. And stories where cruelty takes the place of love, where people inflict harm when they should be giving affection make the world a little bit colder, a little but harder, and a little bit more painful to live it.

So, please, can we stop glorifying abuse?

#writing #self promotion #mental health #abuse #romance

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fantasyinvader · 3 years

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Beat Binding Blade tonight

So, right off the bat I'm going to admit. I abused the arena and save states. This is a really, really hard game. And while I enjoyed it, I'm going to give three things I didn't like about it.

1)Enemy reinforcements arrive at the end of the player phase, and can attack during the enemy phase. That is unfair, especially when I assume that parking a unit on the spawn point will prevent them (It doesn't) or my healer just happens to be in the area. I like difficult games, but when I fail at something in those I want to feel like it's my fault for doing so. When I die in Bloodborne or lose a unit in Fates Conquest, I'm willing to accept it because I felt it was fair (plus I'll just restart the chapter in Conquest anyway). I could have not died if I had played a little better. This game was not fair when it did that.

2)The supports. A lot of the stuff about the characters is locked away in their supports, since this is one of the old Fire Emblems where it throws units your way because it's assuming you didn't reset the game when one died. They don't get cutscenes to be important, and with only five supports per character (barring if one dies, then any unit that had supports with gets those supports back). And even then, getting an A rank doesn't pair up any units except for Roy. So you don't get to play love doctor here, it's only really there for the stat boosts. But in the case of my boy, he needs those supports in order for his character to fully come through.

3)I can take 8 units into the final battle, and they're the only ones who get full ending cards. Everyone else just gets a single line. Kinda weak if I use someone like Fir for most of the game, but bench her at the end to give Rutget Durandal.

Even with my cheating, I still enjoyed this game. Mostly for the story. When Fire Emblem first appeared in Smash Brothers Melee, as a kid it instantly caught my attention. Roy and Marth just looked so cool with their swords and armor (true fact: My favorite design for Link is the Skyward Sword design, simply because it has chainmail under the tunic. I get it, the tunic is iconic but SS's Link just looks practical), and I preferred Roy because I though his fully-charged shield breaker hurting him was cool. I even keep a Cipher card of his in my wallet for good luck. I wanted to know what Fire Emblem was, what kind of game it was. My friend showed me a screenshot of the upcoming GBA game in Nintendo power, which I got for the following Christmas (sadly, I didn't get Sacred Stones as I got a PS2 the following year). I loved that game, but the idea that I was playing as Roy's father always was a bit of a sour point for me. It's because of that game when I got a 2DS a decade later, because I wanted to game but kept getting pulled away from my console, I eventually went back to Fire Emblem.

And, I'm going to admit, Binding Blade hurt me because I played Blazing Blade first. It really did. I mean, Hector dies early on, Lyn is presumably dead hell a lot of my old comrades probably died in this war, Eliwood's wife dies shortly after they are married while Eliwood is more useless than ever, the kid I saved in Bern becomes a genocidal maniac, and the fact that the characters of Blazing Blade kinda caused this to happen by releasing the seals on the Legendary Weapons in their own quest... It kinda bugs me that the Legendary Weapons I used in Blazing Blade are in their trap filled storage places. Like, who returned them there? And if I have characters from that game returning in Binding, I find it strange they don't comment on needing them again. But this is a case of the game trying to be a prequel to a story that wasn't written with it in mind.

But at the end of the day, one thing just kept popping up in my mind. Binding Blade is the antithesis of the Crimson Flower route from Three Houses. I know they said Genealogy of the Holy War was an inspiration, but I can't help it. I've seen so many people try to praise that said route as some sort of denouncement of the rest of the franchise. That it's about putting power in the hands of the people (it's not) instead of having some Lord be the good king. Granted, the Mandate of Heaven seems like it's a running theme of the series, so without understanding what that is I can understand why people don't grasp what that part of the message. But Binding Blade, it just hit so many things on the nose that I needed to say something.

So without further adieu, I'm just going to bring up a few points.

With Regards to Humanity

It's interesting how both Zephiel and Edelgard come at this from different angles. Sure, they both lead wars of conquest across the entire continent, and I'm guessing Zeph didn't tell his troops what he was planning on doing once he won so there's likely a level of deception going on there as well. He really doesn't care for his fellow man, and the game goes out of it's way to show us why. Hatred, greed, or even selling out your people in the name of self-preservation. The game doesn't shy away from showing us any of this, saying that it's wrong and thus why Roy has to kick some guy's arse. Zephiel knows this, but in Edelgard's case? She's out there fighting for absolute power, destroying anyone who won't bend the knee to her while those who do out of self-preservation like House Gloucester are rewarded for it.

In essence, Edelgard is everything Zephiel saw wrong with the human race, she is why he felt we needed to go extinct. The very things he condemns humanity for are the things she reward. Zephiel would have actually handed over power to those he felt deserved it if he had won, whereas Edelgard is demonstrably shown to hold onto power until near the end of her life. One wants humanity dead, the other wants all the dragons. They even oppose each other in their classes. Edelgard is based on the red emperor archetype, she wears red, her class is the heavily-armored Emperor and her weapon of choice is an axe. Zephiel is a king, armoed but wearing purple and he uses a sword in battle.

Even if they both have screwed up history with their family's due to their father's inability to keep it in his pants, they're both presented as villains despite being ideologically opposed which goes to show with Fire Emblem the method IS the message.

Ancient Wars, Super Powered Weapons and Lies.

War of Heroes vs. The Scouring. The former is an event where the full details are shrouded in mystery, up to the player to piece together the clues and figure out the truth for themselves...or in Crimson Flower's case, ignore the truth and act out in your ignorance.With Binding Blade though, when the truth starts coming out, it hits hard. I mean, right from the beginning of the game we're told man was the one who broke the peace by attacking the dragons, but then we learn that those legendary weapons messed up the environment, resulting in dragons needing to use human forms only to be slaughtered by man. Dragons were blamed for the environment, the people who used those weapons were revered as heroes. We don't know why mankind launched their attack, but we do know that they weren't able to slay the Demon Dragon, one who had her soul destroyed in order to control her, because the Heroes felt sorry for her. It's making dragons out to be the victims here, much like the dragons in Three Houses. But Crimson Flower only serves to demonize them, acting like they can't understand humanity when the dragons in that game are a lot closer to humans emotionally than the ancient dragons in Elibe.

The Elites in comparison weren't heroes, and that lie has been confirmed as Rhea trying to make peace.

The good ending for Binding Blade is being able to save the dragon whose soul was destroyed, whereas Crimson Flower ends with slaying a dragon after you've spent the entire game triggering her (and is the ending that leads to oppressive rule under Edelgard, in addition to the only ending without sunlight. What? You thought you'd get the good ending when her final boss theme was playing on the last stage?). Also, you need all the Legendary weapons in order to unlock the final stages, which all play into the big mystery. Crimson Flower requires the player to not understand that the world-building was done to support fighting against Edelgard instead.

Merits of a leader

Let's not beat around the bush here, Roy will not carry you through Binding Blade. His bases are low, and while he has good growths he is unable to promote until the very end of the game. Even then, you need to save the Binding Blade's usage to ensure you get the good ending. Roy is also very unsure of himself, thrust into a position of leadership despite his young age. But look at what happens when he succeeds, he manages to overcome the odds and take down the mightiest army on the continent. At the end of the game, he's shown himself as more than capable of leading. Not to mention, he also believes that humans and dragons can live together, even seeing this in Acadia (and if Ninian was his mother, he's unknowingly proof of this as he is 1/4 dragon himself. May explain his poor bases). If he marries Liliana, he even becomes a King for likely much of the same reason Byleth does in SS/VW (most leaders are dead following the war, plus combining his territory with Ostia which had already taken over Lyn's land after she abdicated/married Hector). Roy learns the truth as already established.

Compare this to Crimson Flower Byleth. Byleth leads the Black Eagle Strike Force, but credit for it goes to Edelgard. Byleth never gets any recognition for this, no position of authority despite proving themselves, instead that goes to Caspar Jenkins of all people, and ends the war continuing to fight TWSITD from the shadows to support Edelgard's regime. And if you read between the lines, Edelgard is NOT a good leader, resorting to bribes, threats, cronyism, secret police, propaganda, and even TWSITD's support and later stolen tech in order to maintain her rule. Byleth lost whatever emotional development they got from White Clouds during this route, once again becoming the Ashen Demon, and is even willing to let themselves die if they can't keep their “humanity” in check showing a distaste for their own draconic heritage (showing humans and dragons can't live together in this timeline). They didn't grow into being a leader, they devolved into being Edelgard's unthinking muscle. Byleth never learns the truth in this route, falling for Edelgard's manipulations resulting in them losing Enlightened One/Nirvana status.

Not to mention, Heroes Relics have really low weapon levels. In theory, they can be used by anyone but only safely by those with Crests and most fully with a matching Crest. Legendary Weapons, on the other hand, can be used by anyone with an S rank in their type. Your characters have to EARN the right to use those things and you'll need them to deal with all the Manaketes during the final level, whereas Relics aren't exactly that level of broken.

Honestly, seeing the ending of Binding Blade and Idunn recovering put at least one tear in my eye. Crimson Flower's just made me feel like the game was calling me an idiot (which considering the Nirvana/Enlightenment thing, it kinda was). I would love if Binding Blade got the Echoes treatment, or even if they just did a GBA collection for the Switch. But after all these years, one thing is as certain now as it was when I was a kid.

In this house, ROY'S OUR BOY!

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chokemeanakin · 4 years

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Patched Up- Anakin Skywalker x gn Reader

(aka ‘How To Make Your Jedi Boyfriend Simp Hardcore’ on ao3)

masterlist

Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24603544

Summary: Reader gets her face all cut up during a mission, fluff ensues where Anakin helps patch her up, wash up, and get fed. Just some worried, protective, adorable Anakin with lots of fluff because soft Anakin is the best Anakin :)

You didn’t know you’d been cut until the blood dripped from your forehead onto the white linoleum floor between your feet. You stared at it, shocked for a moment before you realized the bounty hunter was getting away. The bomb he had set in the abandoned pub ticked in your ear menacingly, counting down the seconds you and your team had to live.

Ignoring the obvious fact that you’d been wounded, you stood and sprinted after the bounty hunter. It was hard-- the fact that you weren’t a Jedi certainly didn’t help-- but with your learned skills from training at the assassin academy for more than a decade, you managed to corner them against a wall. A group of clones came up on either side of the bounty hunter, trapping him.

“You put up a better fight than I expected,” you admitted, walking closer to the hunter with your duel daggers out. Once you got close enough, you knocked the gun out of his hands and pinned him against the floor. The clones watched closely as you dug your knee into his back and tied his hands together. “I’m sure the Republic will love hearing how you’ve tried to blow up this secret Sepratist weapon manufacturing hub,” you added, although the bounty hunter laughed in response.

“Not ‘tried to,’ love,” he chortled. You could hear the timer tick again, then stop. Realization dawned on you, and your eyes widened.

“Get to the ship!” you yelled, and dropped the bounty hunter. The blast would take care of him-- and you, if you didn’t move NOW.

Debris shot past your head as you rocketed out of the pub, the battalion of clones that the Jedi offered you to complete the mission following close behind. They shielded you with their armor as bits of the exploded pub shot through the air, but a sharp piece of metal managed to pierce the skin of your cheek. Adrenaline numbed the pain, and you made it back to the ship breathing hard, trying to drag in as much air as you could into your abused lungs.

As the clones filed into the spaceship, you looked back at the sight of your mission. All that was left was a smoking pile of debris. There was no way the bounty hunter had gotten out alive, and although the Senate would have liked to have him stand trial, your mission for the Jedi had been completed. Destroy the weapon factory.

Now all that was left to do was to make it back to the temple, without dying of blood loss first.

Holding your hand underneath your cheek, you tried catching as much blood in your hand as possible so that it didn’t get on the floor. Not that it mattered, this ship had seen enough blood in its days, but you’d rather not add to the mess the workers back at the temple would have to clean up. Doing so proved more difficult than anticipated, as you moved to close the door and then sit down at the piloting station and start the ship. Blood ran down your face fast, and soon your hand began to overflow.

Wiping your hand off on your shirt, you then tried soaking the blood up with your sleeve, although it mostly managed to smear further across your face. You’re not sure which slasher film victim you resembled once the Jedi council picked up your hologram message.

You relayed the details of the mission, and the outcome to Yoda. He looked pleased, and thanked you for taking on a mission the Jedi could not complete due to their busy schedules fighting the war. Before the call ended, he pointed out the obvious.

“Blood on your face, you have,” he said. “Medics when you return, will be sent.”

“There’s no need,” you assure him. “It’s just a scratch. Or two. But I can take care of it, the medics should stay with injured soldiers.”

“Very selfless, you are,” he bowed his head, and the call ended. Now that no one was watching you, you leaned back in your seat and blew out a long breath of air. Time to go home.

*****************************************************************************************************

Hyperspeed brought you over the planet of Coruscant in no time. Within 15 minutes of departing from the planet where the bounty hunter had been, you landed the ship carefully-- flying ships still made you nervous sometimes, although your boyfriend Anakin had certainly helped you gradually get over your fears-- and stepped out of the ship. You dropped to the ground of the docking bay, the blood in your head suddenly plummeting. Your vision went all fuzzy and your knees went weak, so you steadied yourself against the metal of the ship. Thankfully, someone else was there to catch you before you could fall and truly embarrass yourself.

“Woah,” Anakin met your waist with his mechanical arm, pulling you back to your feet. You met his blue eyes, which were swimming with concern. “What happened here?”

You touched your cheek with your fingertips, and they came away wet with crimson fluid once again. You frowned, thinking the bleeding had at least slowed in the time it took to get back. The cut must be deeper than you thought.

“I’ll be okay,” you told him, already anticipating his onslaught of mother-henning. Anakin was a worrier, understandably so regarding what happened with his mother, but you appreciated the fact that he cared.

“Y/n, your whole face is covered in blood,” he brought his flesh hand up to try and rub some blood off your uninjured cheekbone, frowning when it proved pointless. “Those cuts need to be looked at-- you’re coming with me.”

Before you could protest, Anakin whisked you away from the docking bay. Removing his hand from your waist so it wouldn’t raise suspicion with the other Jedi, he settled for taking your bloody hand in his and pulling you all the way to his quarters. He brought you into his bathroom, sat you down on the toilet, and handed you a wad of rolled up tissue paper to hold to your face as he dug through his cabinets for medical supplies. All the while, he chastised you for… well… everything.

“What happened? Why didn’t the medics meet you at the docking bay? Does the council know the extent of your injuries?”

“Yoda offered to send medics, but I told him not to. It’s really not that bad,” your voice is muffled by the tissue paper.

“What were you thinking? What if you bled out? What if you passed out before I could catch you? You could have hit your head. How did this happen in the first place?”

“Anakin, I’m fine,” you laughed, finding his worrying adorable. “Yeah it’s a lot of blood, but it doesn’t even hurt.” You pause. “...much.”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eyes for a moment, then went ripping back into his cabinet for pain killers. Filling up a glass of water with the Force while simultaneously opening up the pill bottle with his hands, you barely blinked before he thrust them into your bloody palms.

“Down the hatch. Now.” he ordered, and watched with his arms crossed as you slipped the pills past your lips and sipped the water. You laughed all the while, although it looked more like a grimace due to the fact that you couldn’t move your face much without a piercing pain. Once you swallowed, he knelt down to your level and gently covered the hand holding the tissue paper to your face with his, peeling it back to see the damage. You watched his eyebrows draw down, his lips curve into a pout as he inspected your wounds.

“You’re cute when you’re worried,” you tease him, hating the fear that flashed through his eyes.

That did the trick-- he flicked his gaze up to meet with yours, his annoyed glare hard and unyielding.

“Can you blame me for being concerned? I was waiting for you to come back so I could take you to a picnic I set up in the gardens, only to find you falling out of the ship, covered in blood, your face all slashed up, and on the verge of collapse. Anyone would be a little upset.”

“A picnic?” Your voice raised hopefully. “Ooh, that’ll be fun. I’ve never been on a picnic before.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not going anywhere until you’re all patched up. And even then, you’ve lost a lot of blood. Maybe we should push it back for sometime else.”

Anakin took the tissues from you and threw them in the garbage bin. He wet a cloth in the sink, then came back to stand in front of you. He tilted your face up to look at him as he began running the cloth over your face, gently cleaning the blood away.

“Where in the gardens were you thinking?” you ignored his plans on cancelling.

“The south end, with the red flowers you like so much. I moved some stuff around to block the path and shield us from view, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Always one step ahead,” you close your eyes so he can get your eyebrows and eyelids.

You could feel Anakin’s cool breath wash over your face as he sighed. The cloth moved to the injured half of your face, slowing and dropping in the pressure used as he cleaned around the cuts. Your eyes were closed, but you could practically sense the look he had on his face right now.

“You still never told me who did this to you.”

“The bounty hunter,” you kept your eyes closed, fighting back the urge to wince as the pain in your face heightened. He was being astronomically careful, but the wounds had to be cleaned and that meant pain, unfortunately for you. The least you could do now was mask it so that Anakin wouldn’t feel bad for hurting you. “He threw a knife at me and it hit me in the forehead. Then he blew up the pub and a piece of shrapnel hit my cheek.”

��Force,” he muttered under his breath. “You know I know you’re capable of carrying out these missions, but I still don’t like the prospect of you getting hurt like this.”

“I know, Ani,” you open your eyes to look at him. His face was as expected-- drawn eyebrows, pouty lips, dark curls shining in the bathroom light. He was beautiful, protective, and all yours. “I don’t have to remind you how hard it is to watch you leave for missions. You’re fighting a WAR out there.”

“So are you, now,” he dabbed at a spot of blood on your temple. “This mission with the weapon hub was the first of many for you. The council says so. They’ll only get harder from here on out, and I just don’t know how safe it is…”

“I’m no Jedi,” you tell him softly. “But I am a fighter. I can handle myself, you know. Plus, I have you to patch me up if I ever get hurt again.”

He rolls his eyes at your crooked smile.

“Plus,” you continue. “Maybe now they’ll send us on a mission together! Imagine us, side by side, kicking some Separatist ass. That’d be kinda cool, wouldn’t it?”

At this, Anakin rewarded you with a small sideways smile. “It would.”

Deciding your face had been cleaned as much as it could, he dropped the dirty washcloth into the sink and grabbed a tube of some kind of antibacterial ointment. He used his gloved hand to tilt your chin back up again, and began softly running his real finger over the cut on your forehead, spreading the ointment along with it.

“They don’t look deep enough for stitches, and I don’t think you’ll have any scarring. You got lucky in that case,” he mumbled as he concentrated on keeping his touch feather-light. “However, these aren’t just ‘cuts.’ They’re deep, and they’re gonna take some time to heal. Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

Anakin captured your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, moving it so the injured half of your face was closer to him. You took the opportunity to shamelessly stare at your beautiful boyfriend, studying every flawless inch of his face. Sometimes you wonder why someone like him would choose to be with someone like you. He was never shy to tell you time and time again how beautiful YOU were, but you always rallied it back on to him in which he just laughed and shook his head at you. Stupid, protective, heroic, reckless, kind, stubborn, beautiful boy.

As Anakin smoothed some ointment over the gash on your cheekbone, you couldn’t help but flinch at the sharp stinging pain that flooded your face. Obviously the cheek had gotten hit the worst, and as the last of the adrenaline wore off, you were beginning to feel your whole face come alive with a pulsing sting.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin murmured, moving quickly to get the hard part over with. “The painkillers should start kicking in soon.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I can handle a bit of pain. Now, let me see how gorgeous I look.”

You pushed his hands off you and stood, swaying slightly on your feet but hiding it by gripping onto the sink under the mirror. With one look at yourself, it was hard to keep yourself from cringing at the gory mess your face had become.

Anakin was right-- the gashes on your skin were deeper than they seemed, and were a bright angry red. One ran from the middle of the your hairline to the edge of your brown, and the other started at the outside corner of your eye and travelled diagonal to the corner of your nose, then down near your mouth.

“It got your dimple,” Anakin frowned, washing his hands in the sink while studying your reaction in the mirror.

“I have another one,” you point to the uninjured side of your face.

He responded by kissing it softly, before moving past you to throw the empty ointment tube in the trash and to grab the gauze from the sink counter. He held it up and smiled with the corner of his mouth.

“Ready for the fun part?”

“Make me look cute, baby.”

He huffed at the pet name, but muttered anyway, “You always look cute.”

You stuck your bottom lip out and scrunched up your eyebrows. “Aaaaaww. You’re the sweetest! The sweetest little baby. Thank you, Ani.”

“Careful, or I’ll take it back,” he warned, carefully placing a square of gauze on your forehead. He ripped some tape off from the roll with the Force and gently smoothed it over your skin.

“So about this picnic,” you moved your face when he nudged your chin with his finger again. This had you staring at the wall now.

“Not happening.”

“Why?” you whined.

“You can barely stand without falling over. You need time to rest and heal up. The picnic can wait.”

“You don’t STAND at a picnic, Anakin.”

“You won’t be able to walk all the way there. And I can’t carry you without people asking questions.”

“I can make it there just fine! Plus, I don’t want all your hard work to go to waste.”

“Please,” he chuckled. “Moving a couple flower pots was not hard work.”

“But all the food you got…”

“I’ll have Obi-Wan retrieve it and bring it back for us. We can just stay here and eat it. Besides,” he used the Force to change the window from white to show the outside city of Coruscant. “It looks like it may rain.”

“Oh,” you study the gray clouds outside. “I love rain.”

“I know you do,” he smiled softly, smoothing down the last piece of gauze and tape on your cheek. When he finished, he enveloped the sides of your neck in his hands, using his fingers to push your head down. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the untouched skin on your forehead, breathing in your scent.

“I love you,” he said lowly before pulling away. You can’t help the grin that broke out on your face, the warmth from blossoming in your chest.

“Ow! Don’t make me smile,” you laugh through the pain, but bring your hands up to hold onto his wrists to keep him there anyway. “But I love you too. I really do.”

Anakin’s eyes shift to your hands holding onto him. His face darkens again, and he moves to hold your palms in his. “You’re still covered in blood. You wanna wash up here?”

You nod, and then lean back as he gets up to throw the rest of the supplies in the cabinets and then start readying the washing area. “Shower or bath?”

“Mmmmm bath please,” you decide, rolling your shoulders and feeling the uncomfortable stiffness plaguing your movements. Between the blood loss and your sore muscles, you don’t think you’ll be able to stand for very long.

While Anakin twisted the knobs in the shower to start the bath, you pushed yourself to your feet and pulled the ponytail from your falling-out hairdo, shaking your messy locks. A cute look, for sure-- all gauzed up like a paper mache volcano, hair falling wildly around your face like a lion’s mane, hands still caked in dried blood. A damn catch, if you’re being honest.

Anakin turned and moved toward the door to give you some privacy. “Uh, shampoo and everything is in there, towels are over there, just turn the bottom knob all the way to the right when you want the water off.” He opened the bathroom door and stepped out. “Shout if you need anything.”

As soon as the door closed, you yanked off your nasty shirt, followed by your bra and pants and underwear. It seemed like your blood had gotten everywhere on your clothes, even your boots, and you suddenly realized you didn’t know what you would wear when you got out.

A problem for a different moment, you decided, and stepped into the warm bath. Immediately, it was pure bliss, soothing your muscles and washing the sweat and dirt away. You got to work scrubbing the blood from under your fingernails first, then carefully dunked your hair and shampooed it to get the dried blood out of there too. Once you lathered your body up in soap, you decided to just soak for a while, turning the knob to slow to a trickle so the bath wouldn’t overflow.

Outside, you could here Anakin talk to Obi-Wan over hologram.

“--Yeah she’s here, pretty beat up but otherwise she’s fine. Hey, can I ask you a favor--” he then requested Obi-Wan clean up the picnic he had set up, being the only one who knew of your relationship, he was the only one who could without being suspicious. Obi-Wan agreed to bring the food over, and Anakin thanked him. A moment after they hung up, you heard a soft knock on the door.

“Y/n? I have some of the clothes you left here to wear, if you’d like.”

“Oh, yes please,” you closed the shower curtain so Anakin could come in without seeing your bruised body in all its naked glory.

“I’m leaving them on the counter,” he informed you. You could see his silhouette bend down to pick up your dirty clothes and boots, and then he left again. You sunk further into the water, the bubbles in the bath tickling your chin.

He was just so damn sweet.

You don’t know how long you stayed in the bath. Honestly, you think you might have fallen asleep at one point. You just loved being able to relax, knowing Anakin was right outside as you let the dripping water lull you into a peaceful meditative mode. The stinging in your face had dulled-- not disappeared, but it wasn’t a constant hum of pain anymore. You could honestly stay here like this forever.

However… the water was getting cold. And the darkening sky outside told you the rain would start soon, and you wanted to be in Anakin’s room where he had a big window overlooking the entire city to watch the storm.

Careful not to slip, you maneuvered your way out of the tub and wrapped yourself in a towel. You pulled the drain and made sure the water disappeared as you got dressed in the sleep shorts you kept in Anakin’s dresser for when you wanted to sleep over, as well as one of your sleep shirts and even a pair of your socks. You towel dried your hair, folded it up, and then hung it back up on the wall before opening the bathroom door to Anakin’s quarters. He was sitting on the couch, watching the skyline through the window when you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your chin in his soft curls as you scanned the storm clouds with him.

“Obi-Wan’s coming with the food, he should be here any minute now,” he told you, bringing a hand up to cover your own. “You wanna take this to the bedroom?”

“Oh, would I,” you waggled your eyebrows, smirking with the good half of your face.

He chuckled and stood, keeping your hand in his. “You know what I mean.”

“Take me, Anakin Skywalker,” you begged wistfully as he walked across the apartment to his bedroom with you in tow. “You know you want to.”

“I know I want to,” his tone was serious despite your joking one. He closed the door behind you with the force, and then led you to sit on his bed. You crawled up onto the covers and crossed your legs, wondering where he was going with this.

He stood before you and rested his hands on your knees, keeping you rooted to the spot. You watched his chest get closer as he leaned in close, his lips near your ear, and you could feel his breath tickle your neck, raising goosebumps on your arms. You sat, wide-eyed and staring at the golden skin of his collar bone, barely breathing, awaiting his next move.

“Too bad Obi-Wan just got here with the food,” he whispered, and planted a warm kiss underneath your ear before pulling away. He left with a cocky grin, leaving you frozen on the bed so he could retrieve the supplies from Obi-Wan.

“Jesus…” you muttered, pressing a hand to your chest to stop your heart from beating so quick. No doubt Anakin could sense it.

Once the heat from your cheeks cooled and your heartbeat returned to normal, you laid back on Anakin’s bed and stretched out like a starfish. Your muscles protested, but it felt good to be on the soft, cushiony material of his bed.

“Some food for you, m’lady,” Anakin held a sandwich over your face when he returned, and you lifted your hands to take it from him. You immediately began eating it, not realizing at first how hungry you were. It had been over 24 hours since you’d left for the mission and had last eaten.

As you ate your sandwich, Anakin picked at some grapes and walked around the room, waving his arm over the wall to switch it to the window. Rain pattered against the glass now, droplets racing each other to the bottom. He adjusted the temperature in the room, and then began fiddling with one of the many new contraptions he’d been tinkering with, and then began to undress. You tore your eyes away from the storm clouds to watch him set his lightsaber on the desk, then unclasp his belt and set it beside the saber, followed by the tunic which left him in a loose fitting shirt and his pants.

He ran his hands through his curls as he walked the clothes over to his closet, and then started messing with the thermostat again.

“Would you just come here and sit with me already?” you moan, throwing your sandwich scraps in the trash. Anakin turned to look at you from his place across the room.

“One moment…”

You waited patiently, and soon you felt the bed dip beside you and you sat up to scooch over and give him more room. He passed a cupcake your way-- chocolate, your favorite-- and then brought a glass of dark red liquid up to his lips.

“Is that wine?” you laugh through a mouthful of cupcake. He narrowed his eyes, but smiled at your awkward facial expression anyway.

“Am I not allowed to drink wine in my own home?”

“You are, I just didn’t peg you as a wine type of guy,” you admit.

Anakin shrugged, then brought the bottle over to his free hand with the force. “You want some?”

You and Anakin then sat and watched the storm, sipping wine and eating chocolate cupcakes. A perfect way to end a shitty mission.

#anakin #anakinskywalker #injured reader #whump #caretaker anakin #blood and injury #soft anakin #secret relationship #fluff #worried anakin #protective anakin #playful reader #rain #baths #cupcakes #wine #badass reader

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isazulabaeorwhat · 4 years

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I'm the anon who sent that humanising Azula ask I think last month. This is going to be extremely long so buckle up. Your reply to me was extremely rude and I like how you tried to justify everything Azula did to try and prove your point which by the way you failed miserably at. There's no justification for anything Azula did just like there was no justification for anything Zuko did. I will also remind you of something that you seem to dismiss quite readily but 99% of the bad things 1/5

You know, anon? After the recent events, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re actually from BSG. I’ve countered everything you said with actual canon evidence from the show and hyper links to my older posts to prove that I haven’t justified anything she did or said that she should be ‘excused’. You’re just too stubborn to even read them, but fine, I’ll still answer your ask for the sake of answering even though we’re just going in circles because you refuse to read my posts (I’ve made several about my thoughts on her redemption arc as well but aight wtv).

You say I’m forgetting one big thing, but you’re the one who’s actually forgotten it or rather maybe you’re ignoring it. Zuko KNEW what the Fire Nation was doing to the rest of the world. He knew the consequences, the casualties, WHY the Avatar was the world’s last hope— and yet he still did the things he did just because he wanted to come back home. He didn’t do it for his nation. If he did, then he wouldn’t have freed Aang from Zhao. You know what that’s called? Selfishness. Everything he did up to mid Book 3 was all for his own self serving purposes. From capturing the Avatar to freeing the Avatar from Zhao’s grasp so he can capture him himself to stealing from innocent people to betraying his uncle. All of those point to Zuko’s selfishness. THAT is the difference between Zuko and Azula’s actions. And that’s fine because that means Zuko isn’t a one-dimensional character. But that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to call him out for his bs there. Their motivation for doing bad things were different. If Zuko’s was selfishness, Azula’s was actual blind loyalty and pride in her nation. Unlike Zuko, Azula did not travel the world for 3 years to look for the Avatar. She didn’t visit any village or met any refugees or victims of the Fire Nation. All she’d ever seen was Fire Nation propaganda. Am I justifying her actions or saying they were morally right? No. I’m explaining to you why she did those things. Was it to benefit herself? Ultimately, yes. It was for her Fire Lord and the Fire Nation but it was also to remain in her father’s ‘everlasting’ graces. Was it right? No. Should she be excused? No. Did her actions make sense from the Fire Nation’s perspective? Yes. Would I have wanted her to be incarcerated for her role in war meetings? Fuck yes, because that’s realistic and it would’ve been far more interesting than just locking her in a mental asylum and turning into the hero’s lunatic sister. Do I want the same for Iroh? Fuck yes because he was complicit in them for decades and he needs to face actual justice for what he did. Since he has affiliation with the heroes, obviously he’d still be pardoned, but it would’ve been great to at least see the justice system of the Avatarverse.

Second, I’m not demonizing Zuko, Mai or Ty Lee. These 3 were simply teenagers with their own problems so obviously shit would happen and they wouldn’t think much of it. It’s the same with Azula. They were all teenagers so everything they did was explainable if you look at their backstories and interactions etc. I don’t blame them for what happened to Azula, but it’s factual that they did contribute to Azula’s eventual downfall. Mai and Ty Lee’s betrayal was the catalyst for Azula’s breakdown. Does that mean I’m blaming them? No. It’s just stating what they did. Blaming someone implies that person did something wrong. Mai and Ty Lee didn’t. But do I hold it against Zuko for screaming at his sister who’s having an episode and is being yelled at that she was the reason for all his suffering since she was BORN, while being dangled off a cliff in the comics? Yes, I fucking do.

Next, Iroh. His character is complicated and realistic af but personally to me he just sucks. I’m sorry, am I not allowed to have opinions? I hate hypocrites, and that is what Iroh is. I hate sanctimonious characters who hypocritically shames people for something they did as well. He dismissed Azula as being crazy simply because she shot him, as if that’s not what someone does to their enemies, as if that’s something his own nephew had never done?? As an adult, he had the responsibility and ability to free children from abuse. He did that for Zuko, but what did he do to Azula? Even by the finale, when he hypocritically refused to fight Ozai despite millions of people being at risk, he encouraged Zuko to fight against his sister for the throne because somehow that’s fine?? The Legacy of the Fire Nation especially takes the cake. The book revealed that Iroh blames Azula (not Ozai, but the 11 yr old child he last saw before the present) for the abuse that Zuko suffered. Apparently, Ozai could have stopped Azula from being competitive. You hear that? Iroh blames the victim of abuse instead of the abuser. This is all canon, unless of course, you’re one of those people who refuses to believe material other than the show is irrelevant.

Lastly, I don’t know what your problem is, but if you’re going to claim that I’m vilifying characters to prop Azula, then please check again. I’m stating facts and calling characters out for their bullshit. If you think that’s vilifying or demonizing, then you probably don’t reflect on yourself when someone calls you out on ur bs. Thanks.

#azula #zuko #iroh

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asiaberkeley · 3 years

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Afghan is beautiful

I am a half Afghan woman. An Afghan-European American. An Afghan American.

Admittedly, it took me awhile to offer up this information in the aftermath of 9/11 when Afghanistan became synonymous with terrorism in the eyes of many Americans. Taking pride in my heritage suddenly and painfully became controversial.

People didn’t know about my Afghan-ness though because I had my mother’s surname and not my Pashtun father’s: Hotaki. Also, I didn’t wear any kind of head covering because I was raised Catholic. It was easy to hide and pass for completely White.

My late father, an aspiring doctor and med school student who spoke six languages, left Kabul with his family before the Soviet Invasion of Afghanistan as a child. They were the lucky ones. He spent most of his life in Germany where many Afghans have sought refuge. One of my fondest memories is flying kites with him and my Irish-Swedish-French American mother in the Munich Public Gardens as a child. There was no wind that day and we dragged the kites in dizzy circles…laughing together...just as I imagine him now when he was a boy: kite flying in the streets of Kabul.

Since my father died when I was six, I returned to my mother’s hometown of Boston with her in 1996. I was later left to contemplate what it meant to be Afghan in a place with very few Afghans compared to Virginia, California, and New York. In college, as an Asian Studies major at Wellesley College and later at the University of California, Berkeley, I often corrected people who said that Afghanistan is in the Middle East and not in South-Central Asia. I wondered why it seemed that no one had received much education on this country’s history or people outside of reading the popular Khaled Hosseini novel, The Kite Runner, especially since we have been at war—fighting together with the Afghan forces against the Taliban in the longest war in American history.

Many Americans don’t realize that the attackers on 9/11 were not Afghan. The attackers did seek a hiding and meeting place in Afghanistan, however. But those facts shouldn’t matter. Because it doesn’t matter what ethnicity, race, or nationality someone is if they commit a crime and it doesn’t matter where they were hiding. The guilty party does not represent all people of their background or country just like Hitler does not represent all Germans or all of Germany and El Chapo does not represent Mexico or all Mexicans. Similarly, the latest mass shooter in El Paso doesn’t represent all white American men.

After former President Trump pondered out loud the mere possibility of a concocted plan to kill 10 million Afghans and wipe the country off the face of the earth – presumably through the use of nuclear weapons – I have thought more about what it means to be Afghan American today. And it’s not because of those unimaginably cruel musings which add insult to injury in the homes of all Afghans traumatized by decades of war. Indeed, nearly every person who is not a white man has been made to feel worthless, subhuman and criminal under the rhetoric of the former Trump administration...so Afghans are not alone.

But Afghans were alone in the discussion of their genocide in 2019. I have contemplated my identity even more because not one leader or politician in America of any background spoke out formally against those disturbing statements. (And it doesn’t matter if this was an actual plan of his or just an imaginary scenario dangling in the recesses of his mind.) What does the national silence mean?

After 9/11, Afghan American author of West of Kabul, East of New York and Destiny Disrupted, Tamim Ansary, went viral with an email he sent. In it, he wrote:

“The Taliban and Bin Laden are not Afghanistan. They’re not even the government of Afghanistan. The Taliban are a cult of ignorant psychotics who captured Afghanistan in 1997 and have been holding the country in bondage ever since. Bin Laden is a political criminal with a master plan. When you think Taliban, think Nazis. When you think Bin Laden, think Hitler. And when you think “the people of Afghanistan” think “the Jews in the concentration camps.” It’s not only that the Afghan people had nothing to do with this atrocity, they were the first victims of the perpetrators. They would love for someone to eliminate the Taliban and clear out the rats nest of international thugs holed up in their country. I guarantee it…Some say, if that’s the case, why don’t the Afghans rise up and overthrow the Taliban themselves? The answer is, they’re starved, exhausted, damaged, and incapacitated.”

After 2001, my family warned me that just telling people I was Afghan may offend or anger them because they may have lost a loved one on 9/11 or they may have had a son or daughter deployed to Afghanistan. In middle school, a classmate told me I was from the land of the terrorists after I proudly showed her an autographed book I received from an Afghan British writer, Saira Shah, called "The Storyteller's Daughter." My American cousin, a veteran, was later deployed to Afghanistan and brought back a burqa which I showed to my classmates in high school to teach them about the Taliban’s oppression. Contrary to what they may have assumed, what they saw was not traditional Afghan clothing. Traditional Afghan clothing, banned under the Taliban, is colorful, intricate, deeply hued, bright and beautiful. Google it.

A year has passed since Trump discussed wiping Afghanistan off the face of the earth. After it happened, I regularly checked Twitter and the news to see if any of our nation’s leaders denounced those remarks. I called my Governor, Congresspeople, and many others asking if just one would put out a statement to support Afghans and Afghan Americans against talk of our annihilation. The Governor’s office simply said that he did not put out a statement. I still haven’t found any. However, some Americans did speak out on social media. Thank you.

We have studied the long-lasting horrors of the U.S. nuclear bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in our classrooms. I thought we concluded as a nation that something like that could never happen again. That not a single person in power thought it worth it to speak out against the possibility of the U.S. committing another nuclear genocide bewilders and frightens me. Is it controversial to say out loud that Afghans civilians do not deserve to die en masse? Are Afghans so vilified in our society that it’s a public risk to defend us?

If you still blame the Afghan people for 9/11 even if only on an subconscious level, think again. Many of the Afghan people are suffering in ways you can only imagine in your worst nightmares. They are not responsible and took no part in this. Like the poor souls who were killed in the Twin Towers, Afghans are survivors and casualties of terrorism as well. Afghan women have lost their entire families. They have been abused and pillaged. Men, women, and children have been bombed and maimed. Their history, including the rich Buddhist Silk Road history of Afghanistan, has been destroyed by the Taliban and others.

Discussing our nation's capability to conduct nuclear genocide of an entire people and country is an affront to all humans.

So I suggest to all of our nation’s leaders who have remained tight-lipped in the face of the unspeakable: Take time to learn something you don’t know about Afghanistan. Perhaps that could start with the story of progressive Afghan Queen and feminist Soraya Tarzi who asked, "Do you think, however, that our nation from the outset only needs men to serve it? Women should also take their part as women did in the early years of our nation..." Or it could be about the life and death of iconic Afghan singer Ahmad Zahir. You could learn about the courageous resistance of Afghan women and girls throughout history or visit that Afghan restaurant you were too timid to enter and try a sweet pumpkin kadoo dish.

As the war in Afghanistan, a war based on lies and deceit, may be coming to another tragic end with even graver implications for the women left behind who have fought so hard for equality, maybe it’s finally time to read another book that is not the Kite Runner... and most importantly, time to look deep inside of ourselves and question the possible anger, hate and bias that has developed towards the Afghan people after the catastrophic and traumatizing events of September 11, 2001.

*See the Washington Post’s Afghanistan Papers which deemed that the American military did not know what it was doing there and that the war was based on lies and deceit. Government officials misled the American public about the war. The war has cost the lives of thousands of American soldiers with many more wounded as well as 100,000+ Afghan civilians killed or hurt. Many of the American troops have returned with PTSD. 30% of the Afghan casualties were children.

Sources

https://apnews.com/a2a8d7a4f89ec0515379dc4d4a38b56a

https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/2019/investigations/afghanistan-papers/documents-database/

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dyalinohera · 3 years

Text

An Open letter to Quippy.

Through the various relationships in my life, I have learned a lot about trauma through learning everything I could about various mental issues because the after-effects of my own personal trauma were preventing me from living life normally. I was lucky enough to have family members, be blood or found (or a little of both), who have always tried to help me and love me very much.

Recently in my life, I lost a good friend to a misunderstanding during a PTSD episode and their partner took that opportunity to swoop in, gaslight myself and another good friend of mine. Before this moment, I only knew a few things about this partner. ONE. My friend.... Let's call them Q.... was not having sex with this person but they were in a romantic relationship. TWO. They sometimes had fights and Q admitted so to me. Three. About a week or so prior their partner admitted that they were being abusive towards Q in various ways. No details.

After having been subjected to a gaslighting attempt, my other friend P actually crying, and then Q threatening to kill themselves... Well. I blocked them both and ran for the hills. I did have a private private server with Q and I could have reached out to them at a later date, but I could smell the badnews rolling off of F (the partner).

About a month or so after this event I received a message from Q (on Christmas day like a wonderful puzzle to work over) and I discovered something horrible. Abuse victims will mirror the abuser's maladaptive control techniques and further become entrenched in the Abuser's guiles.

Below is that message. I have removed any names pertaining to those whom I have dubbed 'P', 'Q', and 'F' from this message. Any text prefaced with ( and ends in ) are my own comments on what did and did not happen while pointing out each tactic used to try to scare, confuse, and manipulate me in some way.

I am not a healthcare professional of any kind. I can’t diagnose disorders. I simply have learned how to identify abusive tactics from the counseling I have received for PTSD.

And finally, before we break down this wonderful message, I would like to dedicate this to those who are being gaslighted right now and I pray this essay finds you somehow.

Making It Clear That If Any Distress Comes To Any Other Parties Because Of This Message Then It Will Be Because You Dragged Them Into This. You Will Shoulder That Blame, Not Us. Remember How You Thought We Should Have More Control Over When And Where We Have A Crisis? Practice What You Tried To Preach With Your Reactions To This Message.

(This right here is an excellent show of blame-shifting, gaslighting, and emotional manipulation to throw their victim off and start questioning themselves.)

To:[Redacted] [Also referred to as "recipient" or simply "you"— as the term will only be used to refer to the recipient for the purposes of this message. Only exception to this being quotes taken directly from the recipient's own messages.] From: [Redacted] [also referred to as "system" or "us/we" for the purposes of this message]

(This Legal jargon is used to make the sender feel more secure and righteous in their anger, which is very much from being scared, pulling power away from the intended recipient.)

This Notice Was Written After The Messages You Decided To Delete Before We Saw Them, Which Leaves Us Only To Assume That They Were Harassing In Nature. That Is Why This Message Is Being Sent. We Wish To State Our Intent In No Uncertain Terms In Order To Avoid Any Possible Misunderstandings. You Will Receive No Further Communication From The System Unless It Is In Order To Inform You Of Actions Being Taken Against You.

Due to the fact that you were intent on:

Blaming the system for being in crisis

Expecting a person/system who had been sent into crisis by an attack to be the one to carry full responsibility even when unaware of key information and still being actively attacked.

(I never did any of these things. What I did was say that a public chat server in discord with people who are emotionally sensitives, me included, was not the correct action and upon them threatening to take their own life, I was sent into a state of fear and reacted with aggression. Was this a smart thing for me to do? I have no idea but it was what I did.)

Refusing to re-read the very exchange you were attacking the system over in order to see that the system had not been given the information you were insistent they had been given and were attacking them over.

“I am not text shuffling for exact proof. They made it clear that it was affecting them negatively.” "The moment they spoke up about internalizing the guilt is the moment it should of stopped." “[Redacted] said. That they felt it was their fault.” "They said they felt it was their fault."

(I had two chats going on with the poor P who was watching this System go into a severe PTSD episode and lash out at everything around them. I got confused in my panic HOWEVER I was correct in saying that this system was not right in going into that chat and doing that, not because it hurt someone else, though it is apart of it, but because it is a dangerous state to be in. Please note that the text Q is quoting is from my chat with F. Q is F’s mouthpiece now.)

Refusing to acknowledge that you were wrong even after discovering that the information you were attacking the system for ignoring was actually sent to your private messages, not the chat where the system could see said information.

“Okay. They didn’t say what I thought they did. That was in my DMs." "But. I am not gonna talk more of this.”

(Again. This is an attempt to gaslight and invalidate my views and what I did.)

Being a hypocrite by expecting the system to flawlessly read someone while in a blended and unstable state while you, yourself, still drunk dialed the system twice on 08/02/2020 after you had been explicitly told not to do so on 07/24/2020 due to the fact that being drunk dialed causes the system distress.

(I got drunk and sad. I am prone to doing this when upset and I am working on it. HOWEVER. I didn’t say anything on these calls. I only said hi and looked tired. After that, the system did not talk to me for quite some time afterward, but I gave them space and I never made this mistake again. People. If someone keeps bringing this sort of thing up when you have been trying, get away from them. This is a clear sign of abusive tactics. I’ll also go even further in saying that I didn’t even imply that is what SHOULD have happened. I said that was not right. I even told F that Q needed to go to a professional, they are at serious risk and needed help. All I got was excuses. In situations where someone is going through suicidal episodes you have to do everything in your power to get immediate help.)

Ignoring the fact that both times the system was asked if they were okay they told you they weren't yet you still attacked them under false pretenses.

(I was confused and scared at the time due to ya know, someone I care for greatly threatening to kill themselves. SO. Idk)

Acting like you have any idea just how far the system has come from the state they started in a decade and a half ago. You have neither room nor right to even dream of attempting to invalidate anyone's progress. Much less that of those who have survived what you never could have.

(I never did any such thing. I tried to empathize and place myself in their shoes to better understand their struggle because I know what it means to be different with different needs and so forth. I am a compassionate person.)

Attempting to validate your stance after your argument fell apart by claiming you were thinking of leaving anyway. People do not get excited about an increase in activity from those they wish to distance from.

(There were various languages that the system was using that were bothering me but I didn’t say anything because I really cared for them. There was also was a revelation that their romantic partner was abusive and it was brought forth in the public chat. Please keep in mind I was mainly talking to their partner in the end and I decided that for my safety to leave and block both Q and F)

Doing all of this after misleading the system into believing that you were understanding of how difficult it could be for someone to live in a head with people who actively want to kill the body they're in.

(I am still understanding of it. My issue was and will always be the fact that there was a refusal to look at the problem, what they had done, step back, and get help. Because the only thing that was made clear by this message even being sent to me is that I made the right choice to block both Q and F.)

Proving that you need to stay the hell away from abuse survivors because abuse survivors have been blamed for the side effects of survival enough by people like you.

(I never ever blamed abuse survivors for their problems. The system’s abuse is valid, HOWEVER, these past abuses and the unique cognitive issues that come from that trauma does not exempt you from accountability from your actions in or out of high-stress phases. It is up to the individual to find and attempt to get better and stronger from these issues and find solutions that are unique to their situation.)

Any future attempt from the recipient to contact or otherwise interfere with [redacted] or any of said system's alters will be viewed as a hostile act w/ intent to cause further distress and/or harm. Any such attempts will also be viewed as harassment and shall be dealt with via whatever practical — and, when applicable, legal — means deemed necessary. Drunken episodes are not exempt from this and will also be treated as harassing contact. (<Oh my god they really are trying to hammer home I am some form of ‘evil’ just because I was sad and got on camera for a couple of seconds.)

Just remember, we apologized to the one we inadvertently caused distress to. You were far too weak to be able to do so. We even left you unblocked following the incident to give you a chance but all you did was send us messages you obviously thought better of before they got to our machine. Thank you for confirming that we really will be better without you in our lives because we don't need people who can't face their own shortcomings involved with our system. If you cause any member of this system further distress — in any form — then we swear to you that we will use whatever tools we must to contend with you.

(Again, more blame-shifting, bringing up that they apologized without addressing the times I have apologized for the various stupid things I did while dealing with amygdala hijacks and so forth. I’ve been in intense therapy for PTSD and underwent EMDR which entails going over trauma memories in hopes to desensitize the brain so that the fight and flight response isn’t triggered so often. AKA. I have literally gone over very traumatic events, in detail, while doing this therapy. I am an abuse survivor, but Q is very clearly still the victim of current abuse.)

We only hope someone returns the favor to you when your depression is at its very worst.

The account this notice has been sent from will not be signed into again after sending this message on 12/25/2020. Any responses to this notice will go unrecognized.

(And the final last message shows how angry they are at me for leaving a group chat and blocking them. This is from a fear response. A lot of people think that Amygdala is responsible for aggression responses. However, it deals with fear. Aggression and anger is a response to fear. Thus, those who tend to use these abusive tactics are fundamentally scared of not being in control of you. PTSD episodes are called Amygdala Hijack and I am willing to bet Q sent this to me during one.)

Now. For the messages that I had deleted.

It is hard for me to process my emotions. I tend to get bogged in how to say things in my head but when I try to speak or write it all comes out wrong. The original messages were wordy and confusing and… not very good. So here and now, on this space that you the reader walk on, I would like to formally give those messages to Q in simple and clear terms.

Quippy,

I love you.

And I miss you.

Please don’t die.

#tw: gaslighting #tw: DID #TW: PTSD #gaslighting #DID #PTSD #abusive techniques #Abuse victims #abuse Survivors #Please keep in mind that this is meant only as a tool #to identify gaslighting

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

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Bad Things Happen Bingo: Worked Themselves to Exhaustion

Heeeey, @badthingshappenbingo is finally underway! @burtlederp asked for Worked Themselves to Exhaustion with Ryan as our POV/Main, so here it is!

Bloodstains = requested, puppy sticker = completed

This is set post-rescue and post-trial. Tagging the crew: @spiffythespook, @bleeding-demon-teeth, and @special-spicy-chicken!

CW: Very little, actually! Some references to parental abuse and implied/references past assault/violence, but mostly this is just Ryan being Ryan

Ryan woke up with a start to discover he’d fallen asleep sitting at the kitchen table, forehead resting on one arm and the other simply hanging loose down at his side.

He still had the mug of coffee he’d been drinking sitting next to him, his fingers loosely curved around the handle. He dragged his free hand up and over to find the ceramic had totally cooled, the coffee no doubt cold and stale inside.

He blinked, lifting his head slowly, wincing at the crick of pain in his neck. What time was it? How long had he been asleep? His phone was buzzing on the table next to him and he blinked, blearily looking over at it. Must've been what woke him. Fuck, was it really 9:45 already?

When he saw ‘MOM’ and the photo he’d set of he and Corrine at the beach a couple of years ago lighting up the screen, he groaned, hit the button to silence it, and let his head drop back to the table.

He was so fucking tired and he did not have the energy to deal with his mother right now. Maybe not ever again, not where Danny was concerned.

She would tell him to get an aide, she was always telling him to get an aide. Move out (you can move right back in the house with Dad and I until you find a place, no reason to linger there wasting your twenties), leave him and Vandrum with a full-time home health care aide.

You shouldn’t feel obligated to take care of him, Ryan.

But he did, and maybe if Mom had ever felt obligated to really care about Danny, he wouldn’t have ended up wearing a goddamn dog collar in western Canada.

Not that it was Canada’s fault, or anything. Ryan hadn’t ever realized how fucking huge Canada was, before he’d flown into Edmonton on the fastest flight he could find, rented a car, and then drove and drove and drove and fucking drove to the police station his brother was waiting in - only to realize it had been more hours upon hours of driving for Nate to get Danny there in the first place.

That cabin in the woods had been literally in the middle of fucking nowhere, and Ryan couldn’t possibly have known, right?

He should have, though. He should have, and maybe none of it would ever have happened if his mother and father hadn’t said all that shit to Danny five years ago about regretting adopting someone who didn’t want to be part of the family business, and therefore part of the family.

They might not see their obligations, but Ryan did. He was obligated, because while Danny had been up in those woods suffering, learning to believe that Denner fucker's lies that he isn't a person, that his body belongs to Denner to use however he wants, learning to call himself a puppy and give up his name and his body and his humanity to stay alive, Ryan had been looking in all the wrong places trying to find him.

He had looked for four straight years. He'd started looking the day Danny didn’t come home from his weird meetup with the older guy he was either just crushing hard on or actually dating, no one seemed to know, and he'd kept looking until the day the cops called and said We’ll know for sure once we’ve done the DNA test, Mr. Michaelson, but we’re pretty sure this man is your brother. He had never, ever stopped looking.

He had leveraged his parents’ wealth and influence to pull together private searches long after law enforcement had given up. He had kept looking even when the cops and the FBI stopped helping them find a living man and started focusing on recovering a corpse one day, maybe decades from now, when some dumbass hiker might trip over his brother’s bones in the woods-

Stop it. He survived. You brought him home. You couldn't have known where Denner would take him. You couldn't have done more.

Yes, he could have.

He had been looking, but he hadn’t looked hard enough. He'd looked in the wrong spots, he had missed clues, somewhere, somehow. What if there had been a white hair in the bloodied car they missed? What if Denner had left a fingerprint on Vandrum's apartment building? What if what if what if.

What if none of it would ever have changed a thing?

No, his mother didn't understand, but he couldn’t ever give enough of himself to Danny's recovery to make up for what he had lost, for what he was still losing. For time suffered and time spent trying to heal.

His mother’s photo blinked away and the phone went back to empty black. Ryan sighed in relief… only to watch it light right back up as she tried a second time.

“No, fucking no,” He groaned, fighting the child’s urge to answer just because it was her, because he loved her, because she loved him. Him, but not his brother. The eternal hidden truth of the Michaelson family - one child loved, the other left out, chased off, and lost. "Leave a goddamn voicemail, Mom, come on."

He'd been up all night, for the third night in a row, and Ryan was tapped the fuck out.

One super fun discovery Ryan had made about bringing home two people who had lived in nonstop fight-or-flight-or-freeze mode for four years was that they never stop getting sick.

Danny's immune system had apparently just checked out at some point and left, and Ryan could usually handle it, but this virus or whatever it was... was bad.

Vandrum usually did his best to help, but he had caught the bug, too, this time. Which meant two grown men reduced to middle-of-the-night coughing fits and all-day fevers, two grown men essentially helpless, two grown men Ryan had found himself in charge of.

Ryan wasn't only taking care of his traumatized older brother who refused to let him touch him, even just to check to see if his fever had broken, but also his brother’s equally traumatized maybe-boyfriend who never flinched or pulled away but who instead stared at Ryan with glassy, frightened green eyes and gritted teeth as he simply put up with Ryan’s clumsy attempts at caretaking in silence, only breaking it with the occasional pl-please let Red sl-sleep, he can’t d-d-do chores today, I’ll d-do his chores f-for him, please...

One more day of this and Ryan might crack.

He's stocked the fridge with all the stuff he remembered Mom buying when they were sick as kids - ginger ale and Pedialyte (did adults drink that shit? Vandrum and Danny hadn't put up a fight when he brought it to them and God knew they weren't keeping any food down yet), chicken soup from the deli in little microwave-safe containers, some Gatorade. There were saltines open on the counter, from the only experiment with solid food either man had attempted since they first got sick.

Ryan had never seen someone throw up saltines before, but at least Vandrum had seemed decently ashamed of himself for it. Danny hadn't even tried them.

It's 9:45 in the morning and all Ryan wants to do is crawl back into his own bed and drift, but if he does he knows one of them will need him, and the only thing worse than not sleeping is finally, finally getting to sleep only to be almost immediately woken up by grown men so knocked out by some kind of virus that they could hardly stand on their own.

Ryan slowly sits up straight, feeling pops along his spine from having been slumped over the table for so long, wondering if twenty-four was too young to have his fucking bones crack when he moves, like an old man.

“One hour,” He says out loud, to no one in particular. “If they don’t need anything in the next hour, I’m giving up and going to fucking bed.”

He pours himself a fresh cup of coffee, which does absolutely nothing to alleviate his exhaustion. He listens to the voicemail his mother eventually leaves, after her third and fourth attempts go unanswered.

Here’s to hoping you’re sleeping, Ryan, and don’t worry, I was just wondering how you were doing and if you had any updates on how Danny and his, um, friend are doing. I can have Mrs. Verona over there to give you a break, poor dear, just say the word.

I was sleeping, Mom, Ryan thinks bitterly, rubbing at his forehead with the heel of one hand as he listens, ignoring for the moment that technically he had fallen asleep sitting at the table like a parent with a newborn and not an adult with a sick brother. Your fucking phone calls woke me up, congratulations, Corrine Michaelson, you’re a gold-star mom today.

No, that wasn’t fair. She was just worried, Mom knew he wasn’t sleeping enough since Danny came home. She was just trying to help, with the offers of an aide or of sending Mrs. Verona over for a day.

She wasn’t trying to chase Danny off again, she wasn’t trying to make him feel like less-than even when he’d only just really started to get his feet under himself again. She just wanted to help Ryan, like always, and was so blinded by it that she missed that what helped Ryan sometimes hurt Danny.

She’d never meant to be awful to Danny, really, it had always just… happened.

Why do you always make excuses for her? Why don’t you just admit it, give it a name, and try to protect him from them while he’s still so fragile and so easily torn apart all over again? He needs someone who can stand up for him this time, and you never have, you always, always let them blame him. You let him run to Eureka to get away from them, so he was in this stupid town when that fucking psychopath came calling to pick his ex up again.

You let them chase Danny away, and it’s your fault he was here when Abraham Denner wanted a new victim. It’s your fault, Ryan, and you have to fix it, so stop whining to yourself about being tired and take care of the brother you couldn’t save when it counted.

You can start by calling what Mom and Dad do to Danny what it is, by calling it-

“Ryan?”

He’d been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t heard anyone coming, but he looks up now to see Danny leaning against the open-framed doorway to the kitchen, staring in at him with stark surprise written across his face.

The wavy red hair is sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck and his blue eyes are fever-bright, two bright red splotches mark his cheeks. His face is otherwise chalk-white, freckles and the ring of half-healed scarring standing out in garish, nearly neon red in a perfect outline of that fucking thing Ryan can barely stand to think about.

“What’re you doing up? You look dead on your feet, man.” Ryan stands up, slowly so he doesn’t surprise him - Danny still doesn’t like it when people move too fast around him, and the fever definitely doesn’t help with that problem - and sets his coffee mug on the table. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I’m not s’posed to, to be in th’ bed.” Danny glances over his shoulder, then back, putting a finger to his lips. “Ssshhh. He must’ve… told Nate it was okay...” Danny’s eyes drift, aimlessly, to the side, looking with confusion at the window above the kitchen sink, with the faded, ancient little pleated floral curtain that had been in the apartment when Danny moved in. “That’s not right. What d’you think he did to earn me getting to sleep in the bed?”

Something in Ryan cracks a little more, the way it always does every single time Danny says something else like this, some new piece of heart-deep horror that Danny doesn’t even seem to recognize for what it is.

“I don’t suppose it would help to tell you you’re home,” Ryan says, wearily, thinking longingly about the last few swallows of hot coffee left and whether it’s worth drinking it if it’s not going to even touch the fatigue. “Would it?”

“I wish I could go home.” Danny speaks the words so softly Ryan nearly misses them. “I wish, but there isn’t one anymore. I know all the rules. I’m so fucking tired, Ryan. Are you still looking for me?”

“Danny?” He’s so exhausted that it takes too long, far too long, for it to really sink in that Danny isn’t talking to him at all, but to some memory he’s having, that Danny’s lost in the woods again.

“I wish I got to keep my name.” Danny whimpers the words more than speaks and then slides straight to the floor in one swift motion. Ryan can’t cross the distance in time to stop him and Danny thumps to the ground nearly bonelessly, still braced against the door frame, closing his eyes slowly and resting the side of his head against it. “You have to look in the woods, Ryan. We’re in the woods.”

When Ryan crouches in front of him, reaching out one hand, he doesn’t flinch or pull away, not when Ryan’s palm presses against his sweaty, boiling-hot forehead, not when he feels the rabbit-fast flutter of his pulse in the side of his neck.

“Whatever you want,” Danny mumbles, eyes half-opening, then closing again. “Do whatever you want. I’ll be good.”

He’s going to have to stand Danny up, and he can barely find the energy to straighten his legs for himself. Three days - three days of the fevers that come and go, the coughing that wakes him up when he does sleep, his mother’s worried phone calls, Vandrum being fucking useless because he’s sick, too.

He just.

It’s just too fucking much and Ryan never realized how hard it would be to do all of this totally alone.

“Danny, I’m so goddamn tired,” Ryan says out loud, near tears himself. “I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep taking care of you-”

“S’okay,” Danny slurs back to him. “Go back t’bed. I can make breakfast. I need to do chores… s’time, he can’t see I’m late, he can’t, can’t see-” Danny starts trying to push himself back to his feet, and Ryan is half-impressed, half-horrified when his desperately ill brother manages to make himself stand back up, knees locked, glittering, distant eyes fixed on the sink. Ryan stands with him, slowly, his hands out but uncertain what to do next. “Do dishes. Start with dishes. He has to see I’m still working…”

Danny takes a step and simply collapses forward, but this time Ryan is there to catch him under the arms in an awkward half-hug, and Danny shudders at the touch but he’s too weak to pull away or fight back, too weak to even try.

“Look in the woods,” Danny mutters, and his forehead falls against Ryan’s shoulder, thumping into it hard enough to make Ryan wince. “Look in th’ woods for us. Sssshhhhh… everything’s so fuckin’ loud…”

“You’re the only one talking here, buddy,” Ryan murmurs, closing his own eyes just for a second, feeling himself sway a little, a sort of dip in his brain where the white fog of tired takes over before his eyes jolt back open. “Shit. I, I have to sleep, Dan, or I’m gonna die.”

“Don’ die,” Danny mutters, without moving even an inch. “Don’ die. Mom’ll be mad at me.”

Ryan laughs, and after a second Danny huffs a sound that might be laughter, too, and finally Ryan braces himself, pushing Danny back up to where he’s taking at least a little of his own weight. “Okay, okay. I got an idea. Go back to my room, okay? We’ll lie down in there.”

“I have to start chores,” Danny protests faintly, his eyes dancing around aimlessly again, then landing back on Ryan’s face. “Can you tell Mom to call me in sick today? There’s no way I’m going to school. Abraham’s gonna be so mad at me... I can’t go t’school today...”

“You’re twenty-six years old, big brother,” Ryan grunts as he manages to get Danny’s arm around his shoulder to hold him up, taking his weight, his head pounding. He just had to get to bed. Just that far, not too far at all. “You haven’t been in school for a long time.”

“Oh.” Danny frowns, confused, and when Ryan starts trying to walk, he drags his feet along beside him, nearly shuffling. Their progress down the hallway is slow, but damn it, it still counts as progress, and Ryan can see his bedroom door getting closer with every step. “Did I graduate? I don’t remember that.”

Ryan sighs, taking a pause to redistribute Danny’s weight. He’s going to fall over right here in the hallway, pass out and sleep for a week. Right there on the floor. Maybe someone will drop an omelet or something for him to eat while he’s down there.

Who would make it, though, if Danny and Vandrum are both totally useless? Maybe if he called his mother, she’d send Mrs. Verona over with, like, a fucking honeyed ham or something.

“No, Dan, you didn’t. You were still one semester out. They sent you an honorary degree, though, I have it stashed somewhere.”

You know, when they thought you were dead, when everyone but me gave up.

“Honor degree.” Danny giggles, the sound eerie and unfamiliar, a high-pitched noise he’s almost never made in Ryan’s entire memory. “Degree for honor. What’s honor when you fuck like I do now?”

“If there is a God, may you never say anything like that ever again.” Ryan manages to get his door open, although only barely, and he stumbles a few feet into the room before simply letting Danny fall right into the bed, breathing hard.

“May I have permission to sleep?” Danny mumbles, eyes already closing as he mostly crawls his way further into the bed. Ryan’s heard him ask Nate Vandrum that question every fucking night since they brought him home, with the occasional lapse when he remembers he’s a human being and grown-ass humans don’t have to ask permission to fall asleep.

Just like they shouldn’t have to ask permission to shower or bathe or sit in a chair and not on the floor or eat with a fork or…

No. Too tired to be angry right now.

“Yes,” Ryan says heavily. “Yes, you can sleep.”

“Thank you for letting me sleep, Ryan.” The voice is soft and fuzzy, gentle and grateful, and Ryan fucking hates Danny’s stupid fucking rules and his stupid fucking puppy voice. And he hates that he’s so tired that he can’t stop himself from being angry that Danny still uses it rather than focusing on the fact that sometimes, for whole days, he doesn’t.

“No problem, buddy. Get some rest.”

He watches Danny curl up, turning his six-foot-two body into something shockingly small. His knees go to his chest and his arms curve over his head with his hands loosely splayed over his hair, a defensive position to ward off the blows that might be coming at any time.

He never slept like that before, he’d said to Vandrum one night early on, when they’d both woken up and caught Danny curled up like that on the floor next to the couch.

Yeah, w-w-well, your p-parents didn’t w-w-wake him up with head t-trauma, did they? Nate had said, and Ryan had hated him a little less, in the moment, when he’d seen the guilt written across his face. Nate was always guilty, and he damn well should be, but Ryan had plenty to be guilty about, too.

Plenty to make up for.

And he’ll be right back to that as soon as he gets some goddamn sleep.

Ryan sighs, swaying a little, and finally climbs in, sliding under the covers, unruly black curls falling over his face. He watches Danny, already out, curled up and ready to be kicked awake at any moment.

He falls asleep with one hand out, resting on top of the comforter within inches of Danny, not quite touching him.

#Daniel Michaelson's story #Bad Things Happen Bingo #bthb Daniel Michaelson's story #whump #trauma recovery #angry caretaker #broken whumpee #deconditioning #conditioning #dehumanization #pet whump #recovery whump #hurt/comfort #h/c #sick fic #of a sort #I suppose #ryan michaelson is a good brother

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andrewrpierce · 4 years

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“I spent two years researching the Christian Right. I traveled across the country, spending time in megachurches, creationist seminars, right-to-life retreats, and even took a course taught by D. James Kennedy in Florida called Evangelism Explosion. I conducted a few hundred interviews, and I met many evangelicals of good will and good intentions, but I came away believing that the leadership of the Christian Right cruelly manipulates the despair of its followers and poses a danger to our open society. Doctor James Luther Adams, my ethics professor at Harvard Divinity School, told us that when we were his age, he was then close to 80, we would all be fighting the Christian Fascists. The warning, given to me more than three decades ago, came at a moment Pat Robertson and other radio and tele-evangelists began speaking about a new political religion that would direct its efforts at taking control of all institutions, including mainstream denominations, and finally the government. Its stated goal was to use the United States to create a global Christian empire. It was hard at the time to take such fantastic rhetoric seriously, especially given the buffoonish quality of those who expounded it. But Adams warned us against the blindness caused by intellectual snobbery. The Fascists, he said, were not going to return with swastikas and Brownshirts. Their ideological heirs would wrap fascism in the Christian cross and the American flag and hold mass recitations of the Pledge of Allegiance. Adams was not a man to use the word Fascist lightly. He was in Germany in 1935 and 1936 and worked with the underground anti-Nazi church, known as the Confessing Church, led by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Adams was eventually detained, interrogated by the Gestapo, and expelled from Germany. He left on a night train, with framed portraits of Adolf Hitler placed over the contents inside his suitcase, to hide the rolls of home movie film he took of the so called "German Christian Church," which was pro-Nazi, and the few individuals who defied them, including the theologians Karl Barth and Albert Schweitzer. The ruse worked when the border police lifted the top of the suitcases, saw the portraits of the Führer, and closed them up again. I watched hours of the grainy black and white films as he narrated in his apartment in Cambridge. Adams saw in the Christian Right, long before we did, disturbing similarities with the German Christian Church. Similarities that he said would, in the event of prolonged social instability accompanied by economic decline, see American Fascists, under the guise of religion, rise to dismantle the Open Society. He despaired of liberals, who he said, as in Nazi Germany, mouthed platitudes about dialogue and inclusiveness that made them ineffectual and impotent. Liberals, he said, did not understand the power and allure of evil, nor the cold reality of how the world worked. Like Bonhoeffer, he did not believe that those who would fight effectively in coming times of turmoil (a fight that, for him, was a fundamental part of the Biblical call) would come from the Church or the liberal secular elite. Adams told us to watch closely what the Christian Right did to ethnic and religious minorities, as well as those who did not adhere to rigid sexual stereotypes. He watched the Nazis use "moral" values to launch state repression of opponents. Hitler, days after he took power in 1933, imposed a ban on all homosexual and lesbian organizations. He ordered raids on places where homosexuals gathered, culminating with the ransacking of the Institute for Sexual Science in Berlin. Thousands of volumes from the Institute's libraries were tossed into a bonfire. The assault was cheered by the German churches. Adams said that the GBLTQ community, Muslims, immigrants, and poor people of color would be the first deviants singled out by the Christian Right, but we would be the next. I remember thinking his warning was perhaps too apocalyptic. But nearly four decades later, the power brokers in the Christian Right have moved from the fringes of society to the floor of the House of Representatives and the Senate, the White House, the judiciary, and major government departments. FRC Action, the legislative affiliate of the Family Research Council, gave 245 members of congress a perfect 100% for votes that support the agenda of the Christian Right. The Family Research Council, which called on its followers to pray for God to "vanquish the demonic," that's their quotes, "forces behind Trump's impeachment," is identified by the Southern Poverty Law Center as a hate group because of its campaigns to discriminate against the LGBTQ community. Trump has elevated members of the Christian Right to prominent positions of power, including Mike Pence to the Vice Presidency, Mike Pompeo as Secretary of State, Betsy DeVos as Secretary of Education, Ben Carson as Secretary of Housing and Urban Development, William Barr as Attorney General, Neil Gorsuch and Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court, and the tele-evangelist Paula White, who promises her donors their own personal angel, to his Faith and Opportunities Initiative. Frank Amedia, the Trump campaign's Liaison for Christian Policy, claims to have raised an aunt from the dead. And the Christian Right, which makes up as much of a quarter of the country, or close to 80 million people, has its own version of the Brownshirts: the four higher mercenary armies and private contractors amassed by people such as Erik Prince, the brother of Betsy DeVos. Reason, science, facts, and verifiable truth are useless weapons against this belief system. I think the Christian Right is best understood as what anthropologists will call a crisis cult. Crisis Cults arise in most collapsing societies. They promise, through magic, to recover the lost grandeur of a mythologized past. This magical thinking banishes doubt, anxiety, and feelings of dis-empowerment. Traditional social hierarchies and rules, including white, male supremacy, will be restored. Those blamed for our decline: intellectuals, artists, liberals, immigrants, undocumented workers, poor people of color, feminists, will be dis-empowered. America, freed from the contamination of these "degenerate forces," will be restored. The Christian Right propagates its magical thinking through a selective Biblical literalism. They hold up as sacrosanct Biblical passages that buttress their ideology and ignore or grossly misinterpret the ones that do not. They live in a binary universe. They see themselves as eternal victims, oppressed by dark and sinister groups seeking their annihilation. They alone know the will of God. They alone can fulfill God's will. They seek total cultural and political domination. The secular reality-based world, one where Satan, miracles, divine edicts, angels, and magic do not exist, destroyed their lives and their communities. This secular world took away their jobs and their futures. It destroyed the social bonds that gave them purpose, dignity, and hope. In their despair, they often succumbed to alcoholism, drug, gambling, and pornography addictions. They endured familial breakdowns, divorce, jail, evictions, unemployment, and domestic and sexual abuse. And then from the depths of suicidal despair, they suddenly discovered that God has a plan for them; God will save them; God will intervene in their lives to promote and protect them. God has called them to carry out His holy mission in the world, and to be rich, powerful, and happy. The only thing that saved them was their conversion, the realization that God had a plan for them, and would protect them. These believers were pushed by the wreckage caused by neoliberalism into the arms of charlatans. All who attempt to reach them through the rational language of fact and evidence are hated and ultimately feared, for they seek to force believers back into what they call the "culture of death" that nearly destroyed them. Trump has handed veto and appointment power over key positions in government, especially in the federal courts, to the Christian Right. He has installed 133 district court judges out of 677 total, 50 appeals court judges out of 179 total, and two U.S. Supreme Court justices out of nine. Almost all of these justices were vetted by The Federalist Society and the Christian Right. Many have been rated as unqualified by the American Bar Association, the country's largest non-partisan coalition of lawyers. Trump has moved to ban Muslim immigrants. He has rolled back Civil Rights legislation. He has made war on reproductive rights by restricting abortion and defunding Planned Parenthood. Trump was the first president to address the radical anti-choice March For Life event in person. He permits discrimination against LGBTQ community people in the name of "religious liberty." He has ripped down the firewall between church and state by revoking the Johnson Amendment, which prohibits churches which are tax exempt, from endorsing political candidates. His appointees routinely use Biblical strictures to justify an array of policy decisions including: environmental deregulation, endless war against Muslims in the Middle East, tax cuts, and the replacement of public schools with charter schools, an action that permits the transfer of federal education funds to private "Christian" schools. The iconography and language and symbols of American Nationalism are intertwined with the iconography, language and symbols of the Christian faith. Megapastors will often share Trump's narcissism, rule despotic, cult-like fiefdoms. They make millions of dollars by using this heretical belief system to prey on the despair and desperation of their congregations. They distort the Bible to champion unfettered capitalism, the cult of masculinity, the belief that violence can purge the world of evil, white supremacy, bigotry, American chauvinism, religious intolerance, anger, racism, and conspiracy theories. Those within the evangelical movement, such as the editors of the magazine Christianity Today, who have attempted to state the obvious about Trump, that he is corrupt, inept, and immoral, and should be removed from office, are brutally attacked. Nearly 200 evangelical leaders, including former Arkansas governor Mike Huckabee, former representative Michelle Bachman, Jerry Falwell Jr., and Ralph Reed, signed a joint letter denouncing the Christianity Today editorial. Evangelical Christians who criticize Trump are as swiftly disappeared as Republican politicians who criticize Trump. Trump received 80% of the white, evangelical vote in the 2016 presidential election, and in a poll during the House impeachment proceedings, 90% of evangelicals said they opposed the impeachment and ouster of the president. Among Republicans who identified as white evangelical protestants, that number rises to 99%.”

-Chris Hedges, 24 Feb 2020

#chris hedges #christian right #dominionism #religion #fundamentalism

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donnerpartyofone · 4 years

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while i’m apparently still in confession mode for some dark reason:

after i told that awful story yesterday about the degrading one night stand that an older male friend spent a year bullying me into, i started thinking about all the cliches that are sold to us about the sexuality of precocious young women: what it means for us to navigate the devious emotional traps set out by the jealous and covetous world around us. what i mean is, there’s this whole gothic narrative that never stops circulating, involving beautiful, talented, intelligent, sensitive young women who are advanced enough to start exploring their own desires independently, but not experienced enough to identify the (typically) older male predators who hunt them. these men take advantage of their uninformed curiosity, leveraging their prey’s desire to grow up faster in order to control, possess, and abuse them. while this narrative is inherently criminal, society never seems willing to fully denounce it, preferring to preserve its erotic potency for a wide and slavering audience. the iconography of this narrative is mostly derived from Lolita–

[which btw our cultural failure to see that book as anything other than a “love story” is really disturbing and speaks volumes about our willingness to project our grossest ideas wherever we want, even when other interpretations (like “black comedy”) are abundantly available]

–a mature but fragile adolescent with that /special something/ innocently hypnotizes a genteel older man whose sophistication belies his uncontrollable animal desire for her, which is less His Problem than it is a natural response to her beauty and charm; a forbidden love affair ensues. when i was young, i swallowed this concept hook line and sinker, hoping it would happen to me some day! i hated dumb little boys my own age, and i felt that if some Humbert Humbert type were to flatter me with his highly curated attention, then i would know that i had truly arrived.

“sadly”, i made it through high school and college without ever knowing that validating thrill. i wasted the latter half of my 20s on an abusive relationship with a guy two years younger than me, who often argued that he should be allowed to wreck my life however he wanted because he was “less mature” than i was and deserved more leeway. as i turned 30, i met the extraordinary person i would marry. i felt a profound sense of relief, entering my 30s; i had finished with so many of my old delusions, and the pulverizing pressure to have The Time of Your Life throughout one’s 20s had finally lifted. i looked back on my youth, thinking of it as a period of dreary, pointless misery in which “nothing really happened”, good or bad. but recently, when i started to think about it with greater focus, i realized that some shit really DID happened to me. i had just completely ignored it, because i thought of it as the fruits of my own bad taste.

throughout junior high, i had a bizarre rapport with a guy in his early 20s–”nothing happened”, as they say, but this guy was sort of a freak and a loner, and i’m probably lucky that there wasn’t a lot of opportunity for something TO happen. then my supposed best friend, jealous of even this non-event in my sad little existence, forced a relationship with a 30 year old man out of nowhere, and competitively abused my ears with a lot of gnarly details about their horrible sex life. then in high school, my first two boyfriends were both pretentious manipulative dickheads in their 20s who really had no business bothering someone who wasn’t old enough to vote. some of my friends suffered from the same problem, though we all just felt like we were becoming independent young women or something. then there’s some other stuff with an older classmate who was abundantly aware of how emotionally unstable i was, and took appalling advantage of that for a long time, and i probably won’t ever be brave enough to talk about it. then in college i briefly “dated” a guy around 50 with whom luckily nothing bad happened before i got rid of him, but like, it really wasn’t cool, looking back–he made me feel incredibly obligated, and as he only informed me mid-stream, he was married with children. then i spent the rest of college getting dragged through the mud by a guy in his 30s who used his professional clout and well-honed manipulative abilities to “take my virginity” (a phrase and concept i hate, but which applies here), which he was very excited about; it would have been best if he had just abandoned me after that, as so many assholes do, because he then cultivated a long tawdry and extremely damaging soap opera between us, the only point of which was to make trouble for his actual girlfriend, who was ALSO much younger than him. and the end of college and slightly after, i developed another intense connection with a man a few decades older, who would never quite initiate a relationship, but who was insidiously manipulative and made me feel terrible when i eventually got a real (age-appropriate) boyfriend, as if i owed him something; i later found out he did the same thing to another girl that i know, who is substantially younger. the terrible one night stand, previously discussed, was just a gross little footnote to this disgusting history…

…but the thing is, i never, at any time, felt like i had taken part in the overheated archetypal drama that society has built up around may-december romances. i didn’t even see myself as a victim of the bad behavior of adults, of people who should and did know better; i just felt separate from the whole thing, even though i had fantasized about it so much as a kid. the thing is, at the same time that the Lolita narrative is inappropriately romanticized, it does provide an opportunity to see the girl as a potential victim, a Little Red Riding Hood who enters a perilous erotic negotiation with a Big Bad Wolf. because i didn’t see myself as the heroine of my own iteration of this overly familiar story, i didn’t recognize the degree to which i’d been exploited by people who knew to use my youth and inexperience against me. i just blamed myself. and the reason for all this is really sad: i simply didn’t feel attractive. in my mind, the vulnerable nymphet was always delicate, doe-like, elegant; clothes hung on her alluring frame in a way that created a dizzying paradox between her youth and her emerging maturity; she could dance, play music, or write touching poetry; she was preternaturally irresistible even to “good men”. she had to be liv tyler in STEALING BEAUTY (*barf*) or some shit; only somebody that compelling could star as the doomed princess in society’s well-loved fairy tale about statutory rape. personally, i perceived myself as ugly, awkward, socially burdensome, and most importantly, the kind of girl who should count herself extremely lucky to be the center of anybody’s attention, even temporarily. because i didn’t see myself as a damsel in distress who deserved protection and sympathy, i failed to spot my own victimization. i thought of my history of increasingly negative and abusive encounters with older men as a matter of bad luck, bad judgment on my own part, and ultimately, “the best i could do” if i wanted any kind of affection. so i guess the irony is that if i had identified myself as a desirable dolores hayes type, then yes, i would have been in serious danger of fetishizing my own mistreatment–but on the other hand, i would have had a more realistic framework for understanding the sinister thing that was happening to me. unfortunately, the other side of the misogyny coin–not the side that turns you into a sex object, but the side that excludes you from feeling sexually worthy at all–prevented me from noticing that that awful Little Red Riding Hood cliche had already happened to me several times over.

tl;dr - when misogyny convinces you that you have nothing to steal, then it’s hard to tell when misogynists are trying to rob you.

it’s funny to start recognizing this only now that i’m approaching 40. i see a lot of young women on tumblr heroically fighting to strike a balance between enjoying their kinks and avoiding the corrupt elements in their communities–all the while trying to stay aware of how their personal history and mental health plays into this drama. some of them are way farther along in that philosophical journey than i was at their age, and i really admire the work they’re doing. i’m writing this more for the ones who don’t even know that they’re already a part of this struggle, because they haven’t learned to see themselves as desirable enough to be included in it. that is to say, i wrote this for myself; but i have a sneaking suspicion that someone else out there needs to hear it, too.

This post brought to you in part by the very beginning of CABIN IN THE WOODS, which, while not a deep film in any way, features a salient moment in which College Girl #1 tries to tell College Girl #2 that the professor who took advantage of her is a scumbag, and College Girl #2 defends him, humbly and maturely replying: “I knew what I was getting into.” The blood freezes in my veins when I think of how many times I said something like this about someone who did not deserve my defense. If you got dicked over, literally and/or figuratively, by someone older, sober-er, and/or more experienced than you, then this is your gentle reminder that you really cannot be accused of knowing what you’re getting into.

#gpoy

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lingersinshadows-blog · 4 years

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When it comes to rape and consent in DnD it really needs to be discussed more.

This is a summary of my experience with my character being raped by deception and without my consent in an all-women DnD online campaign and some of the fallout that followed.

Warning: Some swearing, discussion of rape obviously along with mentions of depression, thoughts of self-harm and suicide as well as possible spoilers for The Curse of Strahd under the cut.

To start out with, I want to stress that despite everything, I'm willing to give my former Dungeon Master the benefit of doubt. This was her first campaign and I don’t think she realized at the time that what happened was indeed a form of roleplay rape. To my knowledge, she continues to believe she has done no wrong.

Still, what happened was a big and horrible mistake. It’s one I’m more than willing to forgive. So, out of respect for everyone involved, no names will be mentioned here and I will refuse to say who was all involved even in private.

I just… I just need to rant about this and get this out of my damn fucking system.

That sinking feeling.

When I started to realize what had happened to my character, I waffled back and forth about it. This was done with little grace in my distress. At the very least, I knew right away this was a huge violation of my trust. I went to bed, after that final session, absolutely dazed. During the next day at work, it was a constant struggle not to cry about it as the shock wore off.

I kept asking myself, “Was this truly a form of character rape? Why do I want to keep crying about this? Am I just being too sensitive? Why would she do this? Is rape in DnD normal-acceptable? I told her I did not want something like this to happen, should I speak up? Should I express my feelings about this at all? Will she help me find a way that will make it bearable to continue this campaign? Will she care enough to apologize for at least triggering and hurting my feelings inadvertently? Or will this just start a huge argument that will endanger my friendship with her and the others?”

Ignorance is not bliss in the long run.

I did consent to have my character have sex with Vasili on the road to Vallaki. I had even enjoyed what had happened and wrote up the smut for it, upon the DM’s suggestion.

I was perfectly okay, that is until the deception was revealed.

Slut shame me and my character all you want. Scrutinize me and my character’s every moment of behavior to try and vilify it. Yes, I was a new player and my character at times was a flirty and annoying little shit. Regardless, my character and I still didn’t deserve to have this happen to us.

At the time I didn't even know the term for it. All I knew was at that last session, I was left feeling blindsided, tricked and my trust in my DM also friend utterly shattered.

Before we go any further...

Here's some information about the form of rape that occurred, what consent means, why it’s unacceptable to rape someone’s character without their consent in any roleplay setting and who is Vasili/Strahd:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rape_by_deception

https://www.plannedparenthood.org/learn/sex-and-relationships/sexual-consent

https://www.gamegrene.com/node/447 (See "Disguised" rape, 2. Deception)

https://www.reddit.com/r/CurseofStrahd/comments/8zornf/a_guide_to_vasili_von_holtz_strahds_alter_ego/ (Warning: Major Spoilers)

What happened?

To put it simply: Vasili von Holtz, my character's brief lover, transformed into Count Strahd von Zarovich before all of us players.

That might not sound like much. But to make things perfectly clear, moments before my character thought he had bedded a rather affectionate minor human noble who worked as a tax collector for Lord Strahd. He and the rest of us had zero clue that Vasili and Strahd were one and the same. I did not agree and could not even agree to have my character bed Strahd because my character and I were unaware of the truth.

In fact, at the very start of the campaign, when the DM jokingly stated she wanted Lord Strahd to fuck my character I told her in no uncertain terms did I want that to happen. I later repeated that sentiment in a private message to her again and she even confirmed she understood. I trusted the DM completely to respect this one boundary. After all, we had been friends for nearing a decade. She also knew I was a survivor of sexual assault and domestic abuse and that if this was crossed it could trigger me severely and it did! It actually drove me to suicidal thoughts and self-harm.

As soon as the DM had Strahd drop the Vasili disguise, in a scared small voice I asked, "Did [My Character’s Name] really fuck Strahd? Does this mean he fucked Strahd?”

“Yes!” I was eventually told in exasperation by the DM. All since I was pestering away about it in between everyone’s comments of shock over Vasili’s true identity.

Still processing I then asked, “Wait… does this mean [My Character’s Name] was raped by Strahd?"

I was told no and pretty much, don't be ridiculous as I reeled in disgust and self-loathing. Yeah, I was gaslighted-unintentionally as none of us really heard of this kind of rape before. I only managed to speculate it might have occurred as I felt completely horrified.

Blindsided and Triggered.

What happened is called rape by deception also known as a "disguised" rape. And the sad thing is with a character like Strahd who can trick players with his Vasili alter ego, I can see this easily happening again to some other poor player due to a DM’s woeful ignorance.

It’s not a commonly known form of rape, or even recognized as rape in some states and countries. It’s why I had to research it while fighting back tears, shaking hands and a sick feeling in my stomach. It’s also not a violent form of rape but still extremely psychologically damaging. Legally various real-life examples can fall into a complicated grey area. Ethically however it is not as victims quietly suffer while our legal system slowly catches up. Any kind of rape roleplay without prior consent of all parties involved is frowned upon in the DnD community. It’s, in fact, one of the top three Cardinal Sins of GMing.

Strahd in this circumstance misrepresented himself to our entire party and therefore he misrepresented himself to my character. Again, this robbed me from even being able to give fully informed consent to permit my character to be raped. I say Strahd instead of the DM because again, I feel she didn’t realize this was a form of sexual assault to my character at the time. If she had known I’m sure she would not have let it happen.

Her defense as to why it did happen was she could not tell me it was Strahd at the time and that to deny me smut with Vasili she worried would anger me. I can understand the former but not the latter because, before that moment, I had told her repeatedly I enjoyed fluff more. That I was okay with waiting to write up smut as I enjoyed the dance of drama already with Ismark even if it had not resulted in smut. So why not tell my character to wait just a bit? Have Vasili flirt with him more or snuggle or whatever instead? I would have been okay with that, I thought everyone knew I was an absolute cuddle bug by now.

At first, I tried to make light of it. I posted a few puking gifs when I found out. So mature, right? But we often posted gifts in the general chat during our sessions for laughs and to lighten a grim mood.

Yes, I tried to laugh it off. I have an “either you laugh or you cry” philosophy and I really hate crying. At one point briefly, I tried to open my mind to the possibility that I would like my character's rapist since he was going to join our team. I did, after all, like Vasili. It's why my character pounced him when the DM asked me if I wanted to and gave me the green light to write the smut for it up. I even poorly joked and commented on how I wanted to hate-fuck Strahd.

I did all that as I struggled to deny what really happened. I did it in a desperate effort to cope. I tried to pretend everything was okay but it wasn't. I was a hot mess. Worse, those very actions and the words “hate-fuck Strahd” were used against me later to argue that what happened was not character rape and I was acting insane.

No, I was triggered then retriggered when the DM started to victim-blame me in a private chat.

Self-harm

The self-harm I settled upon was breaking my sobriety. I try not to drink alone anymore or have more than three if drinking socially. I didn’t have work the next day and so I got wasted on vodka and like a distressed impatient fool, I drunk dialed the DM once.

The first time I called her I was extremely upset but not yelling at her-no yelling at all. Instead during both voicemails, I left it took everything not to sob into my phone in my clumsy efforts to seek reassurance that we could fix this. That everything was going to be okay. Maybe what happened I could work through somehow or we could just adjust things so that my character only made out with Vasili and I can mind bleach the smut I had written.

I got chewed out the next day for acting unhinged and calling so late. The latest I called her was at 9:16 pm her time, 8:16 pm mine, but I forgot about how she needed to be up very early the next day and that was just the start of it.

The worst part.

She next commented on how creepy the abuse my character suffered in the past was and that she was sick of me bringing it up. I apologized and offered to dull the edge to his background. At this point, I was also raw and on my last olive branch. I felt the wounded party in all this and yet more than willing to try and work with her with an apology after apology. All in an effort to make everyone including her more comfortable.

I made one last suggestion that I could roleplay with the team and he admits to lying about some aspects of his past in order to gain more pity. Mostly his occasional prostitution. He would admit that he was never a sex worker and how the whip scars on his back were not from his last client but from mouthing off to a noble. That idea was rejected with no input back as to what would make her or others feel more comfortable.

Given her responses were partly in full on caps I had serious doubts, she would work with me at all to try to reach a compromise or accommodate my feelings in any way. Emotionally spent and at a complete loss of what to do next, I decided to leave the campaign. I roleplayed him out in an effort to reclaim him and sooth some of my hurt over the entire matter. At that point, I felt so worthless thoughts of suicide crossed my mind briefly as I wrote the scene up.

Out of self-preservation, I stopped speaking with the DM. In fact, I blocked her as much as possible. With some social media, I had no choice but to defriended her do to the mechanics. This lasted for around twenty-four hours before I was made aware of some shocking misunderstandings through another player still in the campaign. During that period of blocking her, I’ll admit I was ready to cut my losses. That’s how deeply this cut. I just didn't want to argue anymore or risk receiving any more painful messages from her that would set me off again. I felt like my feelings were completely and utterly belittled and dismissed. At the very least, I needed some serious space and time to calm down. When we eventually chated in Messanger about a week later I thought we could clear up these misunderstandings and work on solutions.

I apologized for my behavior and hurting her feelings. I explained why I had blocked her and my understanding of what happened. No apology for triggering me or raping my character was ever offered. She in fact, outright declared she would not. I did not ask.

She also confirmed I would not be allowed back. Which honestly at that point I was more than okay with given the complete disregard of my one boundary AND my character raped without my permission. My trust in her was now only damaged further by her complete lack of remorse. Lastly, her entire approach felt like an attack on my bad behavior and me personally rather than address the true issue as to why I left.

She proceeded to gloat that the campaign was better off without me and that everyone was glad that I was gone. She then accused me that I had broken a boundary of hers too and referred me to a specific date in our private chat in Discord. I looked and looked but could only find a mention about that regarding posting after she ended a role-play session was a big no-no. To my knowledge, I only did this once. If I had done it again I could only guess it was when I had my character roleplay his escape. I asked her to please clarify, she refused.

If anything, the conversation confirmed I had made the right decision in removing myself from a situation and a person who would only continue to threaten my sobriety and mental health. Yet I am still saddened by this result. It has created at least one possible permanent estrangement with upwards of two more who I thought were my friends.

I now somewhat understand her defensiveness. Her absolute denial and unwillingness to budge or apologize. Nobody would want to own up to that kind of serious mistake, even if they could have pleaded ignorance. I get that. Still, what she said to me privately after was unnecessary and hurtful. If her goal was to push me away it worked.

I am gone.

But before that, I had tried to learn from my mistakes I made at the start of the campaign. I genuinely thought my efforts were noticed.

I really didn’t want to leave. I had zero problems with my character falling in battle to Strahd himself or being tortured. But blindsided by character rape then later told repeatedly by the DM that I had brought this upon myself, that my character and I were the ones acting like a creep, that I wanted to erp with the DM and I was treating her and all of the NPCs like sex objects um… wow.

My character was the creepy one, really? My character who had a panic attack and cried out for help when this same DM had an NPC servant girl strip naked and proceeded have her rub against him? A servant who, to my knowledge, wasn’t even free to give consent because, if anyone complained about her service she could be beaten?

Yeah, fuck this shit, I’m out.

I’m guilty of wanting fluff and to, later on, write up my own smut. All of it, pretty damn vanilla and consensual and believe it or not I only wanted it with Ismark! Even if Ismark was old fashion my poly minded character and boring old me were willing to settle for cuddles, holding hands and kisses until that cinnamon bun was ready with the DM’s green light to write the smut. I also wanted to help my team and if that meant helping an NPC get a letter to her family or telling another about a painting of his sister to hopefully secure labor and allies then so be it.

I also did NOT want to erp with the DM. Now if fluff is a part of the erp umbrella, well fuck. I am sorry, I didn’t know that!

My character admittedly was an equivalent to an annoying horny eighteen year old who was itching to have casual sex. That by the way, became his flaw. Yet deep down he wanted intimacy and love. Having a rough upbringing on the streets he struggled sometimes to understand finer social graces.

Yes, he and I did make mistakes but we did learn from them. I naively thought the other players understood that. I also thought they knew of the differences between what I wanted and what my character wanted. Most of all I would-could keep my character under control when it came to sex.

Looking back, I’m starting to think I was too easy-going in adding suggestions to my character from other players. I think it bit me in the ass as his occasional prostitution I feel was fixated on a little too much for my tastes as it seemed to eclipse other aspects of his past. I should have spoken up more and put my foot down.

I really don’t know if the two of us became a dreaded chaotic neutral hot mess. I honestly don’t know. In my head, in the end, I thought I was having him at most come off as a very stressed out and understandably troubled by the Mists talking away in his head. Yet deep down his heart was in the right place. He valued the truth. He choose to be honest with Ismark even though he knew it could drive him away for good.

He did NOT deserve this kind of drama or me.

Why did I decide to post all of this?

To start to heal. To stop silently screaming in my head over the horror of it all and then the skepticism and hostility I faced when I dared to speak up. Just writing this all down helped immensely. It’s one more step to putting that pain down instead of carrying it around with me. I can refer to this and other bits if I ever need to in the future.

Before this happened I honestly didn't think character rape in DnD was a huge problem. I also thought I was completely safe playing with my friends and all girls too who carried old wounds of their own.

But it still happened all because of ignorance.

So I’m sharing this experience in the hopes to find others who have been through something similar.

To help DMs realize they should avoid this pitfall when dealing with the deception that is Vasili.

To let any fellow players know they are not crazy for getting upset if a DM tries or has raped their character without their consent.

Your feelings are still valid even if your entire party and the DM disagrees. Most of all you don’t need their approval to know what happened was wrong and unacceptable.

Prostitute or priest, nobody deserves to have their character raped without there consent.

Nobody.

#rape by deception #consent #DnD #dungens and dragons #dm tips #player's rights #rape #suicide #self harm

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kob131 · 5 years

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https://rwdestuffs.tumblr.com/post/187342767682/not-be-be-all-double-standards-but-taiyang-has

I’m tackling his reblogs from here.

I think it’s more about how the narrative built them up rather than the actions.

The narrative made Tai out to be a guy who was struggling to put his life back together for the sake of his kids and had a definitively good relationship with all of them and would go to the sun and back for them. Then it turned out that not only did he drown himself in his work, but he also opted to garden instead of go with Yang to look for Ruby.

Notice how he tries to treat ‘struggling to put his life together and ‘drown himself in work’ as if they were happening in the same timespan, not, you know: one after the other. Dudeblade, you don’t get to rewrite the order of events to support your headcanon while arguing it to be truth.

And let’s honestly think about this for a second. Do we REALLY want yet ANOTHER character to the cast? I could give the same argument of ‘he’s suppose to teach at Signal’ but let’s address the actual reason why Taiyang can’t go with Yang: He serves no purpose. There is NOTHING for him to do as Yang’s issues need to be dealt with by Yang, Ruby is closer to Qrow, we already have Qrow as the tragic member of proto-Team RWBY. We already have issues between Oscar and Jaune, we don’t need ANOTHER fight for screentime. So the question is: Do you want Taiyang to eat up screentime, especially considering your hatred of him is because of your issues with your mom, or can we just accept the excuse since it makes sense AND prevents more writing problems?

Willow, on the other hand, was made out to be neglectful at best, or abusive at worst. Since she got married to Jacques and ended up being an alcoholic, she was indeed made out to be neglectful.

No, that’s RAVEN.

Willow is portrayed as a victim who incidentally caused issues with Weiss, since her being an alcoholic is DIRECTLY related to Jacques using her. And by your rules, that means she should be attacked.

And Raven was made out to be a bitch.

You know Dudeblade, you’d be more convincing if you didn’t have a history of trying to portray Raven as basically being Summer or trying to downplay her abuse while completely rewriting canon to demonize Taiyang.

TL;DR: Willow and Raven fulfill what their characters were made out to be, Tai was not. Which is why he gets demonized while Raven and Willow do not.

Except by your own rules: Willow isn‘t fulfilling her character.

You BLATANTLY ignore canon with Taiyang.

And one look at your ‘savior mom raven’ series says otherwise.

Also, at least Raven saved Yang’s life once. Taiyang just belittled her and made callous comments about her lost arm.

Raven: Saved Yang’s life once which she used to try and manipulate Qrow into siding with her while also using Qrow to tell Yang that she didn’t actually care about her.

Taiyang: Gave not one, not two but THREE speeches about how great Yang is while using moping as a way of empahsizing how little her depression is in comparison to her while raising her alone for over a decade and even trying to make Raven look good to Yang despite all the damage she caused not just to him but Yang and Qrow as well.

THAT is what you are comparing.

You could have directly had this conversation with me instead of doing it like this. I mean… Bashing me for my ship preferences? How much of a warning is that?

Dudeblade you BLOCK him in this chain because he corners you.

And your shipping preferences actually DO matter here since it feeds into the idea that you’re a man hater.

But also, your idea of Taiyang needing to teach at Signal is kinda debunked by the fact that both Port and Oobleck point out that it would be perfectly reasonable for him to go out and look for Ruby. Taiyang instead states that he has to take care of Yang instead.

And Port and Oobleck are right...why again? Also refer to my previous argument about this.

But let’s give the benefit of the doubt here. let’s say that Taiyang wasn’t teaching because he was taking care of Yang. Then why does the narrative choose to show him gardening instead of teaching or defending Vale/Patch?- That was a choice on the narrative to show him gardening instead of teaching or clearing out grimm. Which means that either a) Taiyang wasn’t teaching at the moment (In which case, that needed to be better conveyed to the audience), or b) that Taiyang is slacking off.

Because the narrative needs to show Taiyang noticing the feather of Raven in order to communicate that he knows she’s there. It also gives us some insight into what he actually thinks of Raven (seeing as he looks miserable at the sight), connects Raven to the home in Patch (which itself acts as the grounds where the family lives) and makes Raven more pitiable (The ONE person left who might have accepted Raven is visibly miserable at her arrival? That’s pretty fucking sad even for Raven.)

Also, what canon evidence do you have that Taiyang is absolutely needed to teach at Signal? What evidence do you have for Taiyang even teaching at all?- That’s all your headcanon.

“With Beacon gone they'll need Dad at Signal more than ever-”

Nope, that’s what Ruby said. And if Oobleck and Port, two people who we never knew had a connection to Taiyang before are right, then Ruby Rose, Signal graduate and his fucking DAUGHTER, is most certainly right.

And Yang has two moments where she says that Taiyang wasn’t entirely there for her. She explicitly says this twice.

Yeah, bullshit.

A. Don’t think I didn’t catch that manipulative little detail of yours. ‘entirely there’ and ‘always there’ imply VERY different things, with entirely saying that Taiyang is somehgow distant to Yang and always implying a period of tie of disconnect. You choose that word because while it’s surface level means the same thing, the actual meaning is very different.

And B. That second example also says Yang was being emotional and has Yang placing blame on Summer for dying. That is disingenious as fuck.

Do you have evidence to the contrary? Last I checked, all you have is a headcanon that Tai is best dad™. Meanwhile, I have actual canon evidence.

“ She's actually a really great fighter! You can tell she's learned a lot from Dad!”

The fact that TAIYANG TAUGHT YANG, meaning considering Yang’s level of skill and how she went through all years of training at Signal, means he was there for a significant amount of time.

And your evidence is one manipulation of intent and one disingenuous. So no, you don’t.

And “Sociopath”?- Really? Just because I sympathize more with Yang over Tai?

More like you demand fictional characters be killed off or maimed in brutal ways (Jaune or Taiyang) because you project onto them...or the numerous incidents where you either call people Nazis, call them brainwashed because they don’t fit your narrative or ACTIVELY CALL FOR DEATH.

You reblog from known harasser/stalker/racist/sexist KOB.

Cool-

You reblog from known racists, know sexists and known SUCIDE BAITERS while all being ONE YOURSELF.

If he’s wrong, then you are. And funny thing is, I don’t believe that.

1: I never told anyone to drink bleach. I wanted it for myself because of knightof “BLM Is making things worse for black ppl by making more racists” balance. A person you reblog from regularly. Guess you didn’t catch him saying that.

Yeah-

He’s probably talking about Mage. The bisexual guy you said that to after you preached about LGBT suicide rates and he called you out ad then ‘apologized by putting the blame on him and saying you wanted him to go into a coma. And just for reminding me of that: I’m gonna be as sadistic as possible.

2: I apologized for that, and I took the post down.

You said you took it down because ‘neo-nazi right wingers’ were ‘harassing’ you and added on a fake ‘and it was wrong’ thing while keeping that waterboarding tag of yours. Also, that JSWV incident you keep pulling out even in THIS post? I did the same thing AND MORE. So you’re actually worse STILL by your own rules.

3: I headcanon Yang as a lesbian. I just get angry when people shove other headcanons down other people’s throats.

Then I assume you punch yourself whenever you call people homophobic for disagreeing with you?

Yang doesn’t have to resent Tai for him to be negligent. She can have other reactions to it. Like, say, not opening up to him about her issues. Or her calling him by name instead of “dad” like she did when she was talking to Weiss. It’s a complex thing.

Or you know, open up to him about her issues and call him dad like EVERY OTHER APPEARANCE?

Also: You ignore the resentment against Raven.

Aside from this, you are ignoring what my original response was about. It was about intended characterization

And you’re full of bullshit either way.

Y’know what?- I’m going to block you after this. And don’t think about using that as an excuse to claim that you won or anything, I’m just tired of your bullshit. Also, don’t think you can just pull a kob and just copy/paste my posts so that you can argue them. Otherwise, I’d have to report you.

Yeah, how many times have you tried that with me? It never works.

And you ARE silencing him. SO guess what? Time for a classic KOB-style beatdown.

(I’ll unblock you after this for convenience sake, but next time, don’t pull this shit because it could be seen as block evasion).

Oh fuck off.

All I’m saying is that it should have been better conveyed. It was also the middle of the day when Tai was last seen, he should have been in school teaching if that were the case. I would have less of a vendetta against Tai if he was shown in a classroom, or out in vale clearing out some grimm when Raven went to him, but the narrative chose to show him gardening. Which is a poor look for Taiyang.

If you ignore everything we know about school, like days off, or the limitations of the budget while also maliciously misinterpeting scenes: sure.

Although you never seem to accept that with Yang or Raven...

And again: I have to go back to intended characterization.-

Once again: You CANNOT try ‘intended characterization while ignoring the intentions in other scenes and EXPLICTEDLY trying to make things look worse than they are. You’re bullshitting.

Lastly: It was bad writing that made Taiyang out to be a bad dad.-

No Dudeblade, as seen by how the writing continuously CONTRADICTS you: it’s personal bias.

On top of all of that, Yang got shafted on screentime in volume 4 because the writers said that it would be “boring” watching her mope around a house all day

Citation needed and when they tried that you all proceeded to huff paint and demand more fight scenes.

It’s your choice to like Taiyang and not ship ros/ebird, just like how it’s my choice to do the opposite. I ship rosebi/rd because I’m a slut for angst. And that Raven is leagues more interesting than Tai.

Except that A. You ship rosebird because you have a yuri fetish and B. you project a perfect vision of your mom onto Taiyang. Just more bullshit.

No really, if you love angst so much: PHOENIX should be your ship as there’s more angst on Taiyang’s side than Summer. Or SummerXQrow. Or hell, QrowXTaiyang. All of which have more positive chances (and thus, more angst) than from Rosebird, where one side nuked Ruby in the face for sounding like the other side.

Plus, I find it irritating that criticism about Tai always has to go in the rwde tag while criticism about Raven can go in her main one. It honestly feels like a double standard… Which is something that I have found to be commonplace in the fndm.

It doesn’t.

You just do it because the main tag isn’t your echo chamber in regards to Taiyang.

Did you know that some people unironically called Jacques “A stern parent trying to discipline Weiss” but then turn around and call Willow “A bitch who should take care of her kids”?

Citation Dudeblade, that sounds like a troll.

And it’s still not as bad as Taiyang “abusive parent who was never there for Yang” and Raven “misunderstood loner mom who totes cares for Yang more than the loving father who raised her.”

#dudeblade

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ryanmeft · 4 years

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Movie Review: By The Grace of God

Where faith-based films most often go wrong as films is in equating total, mindless devotion with faith. Feeling besieged by a cultural war that mostly exists in their minds, these affairs, generally Protestant or non-denominational, are less about God in any sense, and more about attacking the strawmen that Evangelicals tend to see hiding in every dark corner. Catholics have a rather more fraught and complex relationship with dogma, and Francois Ozon’s latest film explores actual threats in actual dark places: abusive priests protected by Church hierarchy. Faith in this film is not a thing of dogma or loyalty, but born of commitment to the idea that men of God can be held to justice by men.

The film’s central heroes are flawed men, because they are men. Alexandre (Melvil Poupaud) raises his three children faithfully in the Church, though notably does not seem to trust them alone with priests, and one night has a frank discussion with them and his wife (Aurelia Petit) about what happened to him at the hands of Bernard Preynat (Bernard Verley). A priest responsible for children’s summer camps in the 80’s and 90’s, he molested Alexandre at regular intervals; he recalls Preynat’s “fat stomach” on his back. His eventual anonymous charge prompts a more public outcry from a second victim named Francois (Denis Menochet), who unlike Alexandre has left the church and feels little need to play fair with them. Through this account, the third man, Emmanuel (Swann Arlaud) finds his memories of abuse forcibly returned, resulting in seizures and a severe rupture in his already fractured relationship with his less-than-stable girlfriend (Amelie Daure).

The film’s structure is slow and deliberate. It begins with Alexandre’s story, and doesn’t deviate from it for almost an hour, to the point where I (who, as usual, went in entirely blind) thought his tale was the entire focus. His fight is initially geared toward merely getting a confession and apology out of Preynat, who he believes the church will hold accountable once they know of his crimes. He is puzzled when the sympathetic and well-meaning go-between (Martine Erhel) begins stonewalling him after Preynat refuses to ask forgiveness; she explains, in a line whose mockery is all the more bitter for the sad earnestness in which it is spoken, that God will held Alexandre’s wound heal “If we don’t scratch it too much.” In that line, of course, is bound the entire scandal.

The story switches unexpectedly to Francois, who is initially not eager to pursue Preynat because he has put everything to do with that, including religion, behind him. Now an avowed atheist whose anger sometimes spills over into family dinners, he becomes more motivated when he realizes his brother (Stephane Brel), also abused, will nevertheless not stand by him, which is due to the latter man’s own unresolved trauma. He smashes on a set of drums when the stress becomes too great. The third perspective is that of Emmanuel, less settled in life and more rugged in looks than the other two, and whose damage is brought back to mind and pain by Francois going public about his.

The official position of the Church is that the Pope is God’s chosen representative and therefore his official word is infallible. The official position of many average Catholics on this official position is a resounding “Nah.” The feelings of the three men about Catholicism and God are varied and complex. Religion is a complex matter that many demand, for their own peace of mind, be rendered simple, but Ozon has not made a simple movie. The views of the three men are revealed in conversations between them and others, which contain things explicit and things implied. Ozon, who originally set out to create a documentary, has kept that style here, allowing people to have real talks and not movie-designed lines, and crucially, trusting that the audience will be kept riveted without big screen histrionics.

It works. The three men eventually join up in a team whose goal requires true superheroes: to get a 2,000-year-old spiritual empire which propagates itself as the one true voice of God to admit that it is wrong. The real world stakes make ordinary conversations compelling, and much of the tension is derived from the nature of Preynat himself. It would be hard to conjure a fictional villain as loathsome. In his first meeting with Alexandre, he immediately admits to what he did, and we almost wonder if he actually has a soul. No. His next words are among the most icily chilling I’ve ever heard uttered in a film: “I’ve always been attracted to children. It’s caused me so much pain.” He blames fear of “violent, hysterical parents” for his refusal to confess his crimes. The church keeps him working with children. In real life, he tried to block the release of the film in France. He is a horror of a man, evil nearly beyond the reach of words.

Ozon knows the vileness of Preynat and the unctuous denials of his superior (Francois Marthouret) are enough to chill us, and avoids overt visual depictions of abuse. The men here, after all, are fighting against shadows---things that happened decades ago that society would like to ignore, that the church would like to deny, whose damage cannot be simply expressed. It is not that showing it would make us cringe, though it undoubtedly would. It is that, like the towering presence of the Boston church in Spotlight, these things live in our minds even when we do not see them. To fight them required an act of immense courage. To make such a film about them, unsentimental, without easy drama, required one of immense faith.

Verdict: Must-See

Note: I don’t use stars, but here are my possible verdicts.

Must-See

Highly Recommended

Recommended

Average

Not Recommended

Avoid like the Plague

You can follow Ryan's reviews on Facebook here:

https://www.facebook.com/ryanmeftmovies/

Or his tweets here:

https://twitter.com/RyanmEft

All images are property of the people what own the movie.

#francois ozon #by the grace of god #france #Religion #stephane brel #melvil poupaud #movies #denis menochet #swann arlaud #catholic church

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thisismyghost-blog · 5 years

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1st time I told my fam/friends on fb about the sadistic monster who abused me and is facing agg kidnapping and 3agg rape charges

So idk how some of you will react to this but i have to risk people who will hate me or just turn away in order to gain reinforcements. I have been practically in hiding for almost a year after finally giving up on keeping a bold face at my job that I loved with a few people that I really loved due to the pain I didn’t know how to handle of being visibly and deeply scorned by a few people who I had done nothing to but be friendly and awkward to (just due to lack of social experience)I have been protected under the love of my amazing family, my best friend Sayruh, and the incredible loving man who I can’t describe rn who came into my life about five years ago and with who’s path, unfortunately, was diverged during what I’m about to tell you. This isn’t going to be college level essay ish, so bare with me. I’m bleeding and panting out of breathe in the battlefield of life at this moment but I haven’t dropped the sword and I never will. I don’t have to do this alone, as much as I’ve been alone and felt deeply affected by if people think I am worthless, stupid, ugly, a whore or make assumptions about me that hurt them or take me the wrong way.i have hidden myself to protect others and to protect myself but I see now that is utter BULLLSHHIIITTT y’all. I was in a “relationship”with what fits the pattern of a malignant narcissist, possible psychopath for 9 entire soul crushing, brain washing, body mutilating, being made to believe I was bad or crazy, turning against myself months. That’s the time it takes to grow a fully ripened human, and apparently it’s also the time to nearly break an intelligent, loving sister, mother, daughter, friend, woman almost entirely. This creature who masquerades as an attractive, eloquent, humble, caring, selfless individual has likely been slandering me since the moment he walked into my place of work as he, behind the scenes, carefully put up walls between me and anyone who might later have compassion for the things he had in store for me. That wasn’t terribly hard due to the fact that I was already a very shy person.This Lucifer gaslighted, undermined and abused me while successfully convincing me that he was helping me become a better person and applying his version of “therapy” based on his claimed experience in mental health in another country and coming out of terrible traumas all by himself. This person took the self doubt i already had, filled it with poison, and offered it through a needle promising the antidote. This person used my compassion and love for others to convince me to let him do horrible things to me as a stress relief or way of dealing with their past trauma in order to help them, to help them not do self destructive things and be able to go out and help others in Grand ways that he constantly spoke of.I have been hiding because I have seen that human nature tends to immediately start looking for ways to blame or dehumanize people that are in horrible situations like this. I have been hiding because I could feel the seering looks of disgust, feel the betrayel from those I had admired and even looked up to that had already taken place and wished not to extend an opportunity for others. I realize now that I have been ashamed of being vulnerable to someone else’s lack of humanity and feeling as though that truly debased me or may as well if it succeeded in debasing me from human status in the eyes of most people onlooking, so why give them a chance to onlook?I have no choice now because today I was shown my choice by the assistant district attorney. It was my hope to protect others from this monster. It was my hope because I have seen what these creatures who walk among us, looking like people, expressing emotion on their face like people, and I have seen this creature twist otherwise upstanding, moderately intelligent individuals into hating a person in order to discredit them and also back them further into a corner, convince them they are nothing, watch them suffer and feed on their tears like a twisted vampire. You think you can spot a monster? Maybe you would have better luck. I think we all think we do, how can you not believe what your mind is telling you when you look at what looks like a human being but is a monster no one warned you about, who literally takes pleasure in slowly driving you insane and takes bites out of your flesh like a wolf and yelling at you for bleeding. I am not perfect, no one is. I make mistakes, that’s human. I take the wrong path sometimes, also human. Do I need to say that in order for you not to start asking a million questions until you get to the part where your brain can let out a sigh of relief and go “ooohh I was worried this world was that horrific for a minute but clearly this bitch is an idiot or a sinner who deserved whatever she’s going on about.”?I want to stop and give credit where credit is due.I am tempted to name names but I haven’t. There are people who I worked next to everyday and only had affection for who completely turned their back on me when he was arrested. I didn’t call police, my doctor did. I hate attention, I have no vendettas. I have to get out of this corner letting him and his minions scare/shame me into silence and projecting their ill motives onto me. I know it makes no sense. I only know that I am sure I experienced what I imagine thousands of murdered women experienced in their final moments. I feel that he would enjoyed watching my final moments and holding them in his hands like a god. I only know that an amazing doctor who I trusted and went to for advice about how to not get murdered or even possibly salvage my life from without police help because I didn’t believe they would help me. I believed him when he told me his ex’s called police and he talked them away, I believed him when he told me that police came to my door at times when I was screaming and he talked to them while I was in the bathroom crying and convinced them everything was ok. I believed what he didn’t have to put into words but only insinuate, that everyone will call me a stupid lying whore for staying around and trying to get help would only result in being told so. I was wrong. My doctor called the police without my knowledge, everyone treated me with compassion and respect and told me I was safe now. I thought that meant other girls would be safe now. I was mistaken. I held onto the remaining shards of my life with all my strength, allowing people under his spell to treat me despicably as I fought the tears, told myself it’s my fault for not being a better person who speaks up and is more than just quiet and friendly but involved and let’s you know them and is there for you. I tried to hold my head high and ignore them or focus on the 3 friends I had left and remind myself that they could have no clue what the truth was and that they would never believe me over such a charming loveable individual. How do you tell someone that a person they admire is capable of worse things than they have ever imagined and expect them to believe you unless they are incredibly close and trusting of you?Trial is coming up. I thought I could seek back up through expert witnesses and professionals who could untangle the dark web of deadly lies, ignorance and misinformation. I thought maybe I could find others like the girl he claimed to have put in the hospital for three months.. I thought.. Maybe.. I could sleep at night one day without picturing dead girls all alone in a landfill disposed of by him and forgotten. That is only my imagination but your mind is your window to the world and it’s all you see. Instead I am told that due to the burden of proof, even after the stack of felony indictments an incredible female detective at Smyrna PD was able to procure on my behalf.. That he will most likely walk free or get less than a decade and be let loose upon the world again. If you ever get hurt, make sure it’s by a total stranger and that you see clearly what’s going on in order to be able to immediately, report it and get the hell away from them so the law can protect you.(sarcasm if u didn’t see it.)There has to be an alarm raised and debate changed. Not for me but for my niece, my cousins, our daughters and sons, every human being who is out there vulnerable to be spotted by a shark who probably dresses and speaks properly and seems like a “stand up citizen” maybe even have a position of authority, maybe even like he did, claim to be a representative of Jesus and some version of my personal Satan’s false story that he was a champion of all orphans and the disenfranchised. I have pictures of him surrounded by smiling children he claimed were in a orphanage he managed for a time in an impoverished part of the world and claimed to have been their main source of affection and mental health assistance in dealing with the loss of their parents.If you are totally mind f9(?#d after reading this, understand that I have been fighting epic battles through Hell daily via my mind and PTSD armed with love from my son, family, Antwane. An inkling that maybe I can build some sort of bridge to the nameless victims who will never have a charge formally filed much less prosecuted, the forgotten girls buried in shallow graves because a monster feasted on their human heart and knew no one would be in their corner to save them and that society at Large would walk on their unmarked grave with no tears shed for a “whore”. Armed with the small bit of reason and understanding I’ve gained through education and love not letting me die no matter how much agony and confusion and darkness swallowed me whole I walk out of that dark corner of shame today. I still need healing, I still am learning not to be hard on myself, I still have no idea what I’m doing but I’m fighting y’all and I have gained the type of clarity I’m not sure many people ever have after a lifetime. There is no magic day to come where after you try hard enough you never incur anymore criticism and you feel good enough, but in the meantime those who are so sure of themselves are devouring the innocent, virtually wholly unchecked and every bully, every shaming comment meant to put you down and shut you up is a type of weaponry used by those behaving inhumanely and projecting their diminished humanity onto you. Don’t let them do it. If you care how you affect other people you are top notch in my book and every shortcoming you have tell everyone to STFU about and keep going. Your inability to wow a crowd or rock a swimsuit for a magazine or even speak to a stranger or your emotional outburst and lack of attention to your house when you’re depressed.. any and everything that you feel ashamed about, you give it the middle finger for me. Your voice in your own head and how you see yourself is where it starts and YOU are who I need to join me in this fight with the odds insanely against me and the rest who fall into their snare. I need you to keep trying,I need you to fight to see for yourself what really matters and what is left because there are no superheroes or quick fixes and everytime you feel empathy for someone and want to take their pain or help, this is how. You become strong and you fight for reason, compassion, you fight the voices that degrade and throw away human beings but you start with your own.If you want to talk, text me. Might take some time but I’ll be there and I will not judge anything so if you just need to vent things you feel shame about I am a good sounding board I have discovered. I don’t have any answers for you but I am another human being who values you. Naj is doing great btw he’s facing his own bullies but he’s got an expert on his side and an amazing dad and uncle. I have an extremely bright gorgeous life ahead and I see it on the horizon. I almost said if I don’t reach it I will die trying but there are 3 amazing guys in the next room that love me, a gorgeous brilliant sister a few minutes away, my mom with her endless Love, compassion, years of memories and experience that I hope to be able to properly learn from and appreciate, this genius niece who is so much like me at her age but better and actually likes me. I could keep going. If you looked in the mirror today and thought anything besides “Damn fine bitch, world’s lucky to have me!” then go apologize please. Maybe you won’t mean it but you can get there. I may not be able to stop him. There may be Hell on Earth that I have yet to see, but the people who love us and are waiting for us to meet and love them, they are what matters now. You are what matters to me now. He used to tell me I would gain great wisdom from him and help him change the world. I did gain wisdom, I won’t give him credit for that, I dug it out of the ashes of what he left behind. If that’s possible then imagine what you can do

#recovery #recoveryafterabuse #recoveryafterrape #raperecovery #narcabuse #malignantnarcissit #sadisticpsychopath #covertmalignantnarcissist #psychopathabuse #datingpsychopath #datingcovertnarcissit #rapetrial #lowselfesteem #shame #ptsd #rapetraumarecovery #pnsd

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perfectirishgifts · 3 years

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The Prerequisite For Healing The Nation: A Federal Job Guarantee

New Post has been published on https://perfectirishgifts.com/the-prerequisite-for-healing-the-nation-a-federal-job-guarantee/

The Prerequisite For Healing The Nation: A Federal Job Guarantee

An original Work Projects Administration sign from the 1930’s. The WPA was a huge part of the New … [] Deal during the Great Depression. Sign set on a blue/gray background. Canon 5D.

This is normally the time of month when I post commentary about the latest economic data, particularly the Employment Situation Report from the Bureau of Labor Statistics (speaking of which, unemployment inched down again, however less than expected). But I’m not sure that’s very important right now. We all know what’s happening: at the beginning of the year, the measures required to stem the tide of COVID infections caused post-World War Two highs in unemployment. As restrictions were eased, so unemployment fell. However, the winter months in the Northern Hemisphere are already bringing on new challenges and things may well get worse before they get better. But get better they will, it appears, as vaccines are starting to become available at this very moment.

While this is all very serious and newsworthy, there’s no mystery here that requires an economist’s perspective to unravel. I therefore decided to shift gears this month and talk about a broader issue, one that existed well before COVID and which has contributed materially to the deep political divisions in American today: the increasing income inequality that has marked the US economy since the 1970s.

While I normally avoid taking sides and instead focus on laying out the cause-and-effect of economic forces (I’m going to tell you how the car works, but where you drive it is up to you), this time I can’t do that and still make my point. So here is my stance: those who believe that there was massive election fraud, that science is left-wing propaganda, that the Democratic Party is full of socialists and pedophiles, and that wearing a mask is an unconstitutional infringement of their personal freedom (and a stepping stone toward requiring all American women wear veils—yes, I have heard that)–they’re wrong. More than wrong, they’re dangerous. Their views are undermining the very soul of US democracy. It has to stop.

How did this situation evolve? Obviously, something this deep-seated and complex is not monocausal. A lot is going to have to happen to fix it because a lot happened to cause it. But I am prepared to argue that there is a necessary prerequisite to getting us back on the road to civility and respect for logic and evidence: reversing the above-mentioned trend of increasing economic inequality. Until all Americans feel safe, secure, and part of a system that works for them, Joe Biden can preach unity until he’s blue in the face and it will make no difference.

The effects of unemployment, poverty, and income inequality are widespread and pernicious. Studies link them to increased rates of suicide, mental health issues, drug and alcohol use, spouse and child abuse , and even violent extremism. Victims tend to blame themselves, as does the rest of society. This can put people into a downward spiral that leads to precisely the kind of anger, conspiracy-theorizing, and scapegoating we see today.

Again, I don’t mean to suggest that this is the only factor involved. The specifics of how these maladies manifest themselves is a function of the society in question and the historical context. I am also not saying that it is only the poor and disenfranchised who believe that there was mass voter fraud, etc., nor that they are all of the same mind. Taking Weimar Germany as an example of a polarized society—where demonstrations and street fighting had been going on since shortly after the end of World War One—not only did those most affected by the economic collapse vote both both Nazi and Communist, but they were joined by some wealthy and middle class voters as well, whose anxiety was linked not to their immediate fortunes but to their fears for Germany’s future. One can see parallels today.

Perhaps the key takeaway from the scholarly literature regarding what happened in Germany is this:

“the elections that put Adolf Hitler in power are subject to the same ordinary voting behavior explanations as are most other democratic elections worldwide…if we are interested in the likely reactions of voters and parties, we may want to focus more on governmental successes and failures in choosing and implementing public policies than on the degree of intellectual versus demagogic appeals of the candidates.”

In other words, dismal conditions are far more important to creating extreme outcomes than the nature of the candidate’s message because socio-economic conditions drive the attractiveness of a candidate’s platform. Hitler’s speeches would have fallen on deaf ears in a Germany that boasted low rates of unemployment and high levels of income. Hence my thesis that reconciliation in America can only take place if we can return to a more inclusive and prosperous economic landscape.

How do we achieve this? The core of any successful plan must include a government job guarantee, a promise to American citizens that if you want to work but can’t find a job, you can always find employment in the public sector. If that sounds like FDR’s New Deal, there’s a good reason for that: it’s very much like it, except on a much larger and permanent basis.

There is absolutely no reason to expect the private sector to provide employment for every willing worker. To business, labor is a cost to be minimized. Fair enough, it’s not their responsibility to reduce unemployment and it is by this process (given several other caveats) that they are able to offer products with low prices. But, add to this the employment-reducing forces of automation (which has apparently accelerated during our current crisis) and the outsourcing of production and it’s little wonder that we have seen a diminishing middle class and increasing rural poverty.

However these are not by any means insurmountable obstacles. We have, after all, plenty of food, shelter, clothing, and more for all Americans. That’s not the issue nor has it been for decades. The problem is jobs, or the means of securing the income necessary to take your share of the food, shelter, and clothing off the shelf. That problem can be solved with a job guarantee and here is what we have to do to make it happen:

STEP ONE: Stop confusing the market with the economy.

The former is only part of the latter, albeit a very large one in our society. However, even in our own recent history we have shifted gears very rapidly toward public sector, non-market solutions when we thought it necessary. In 1941, unemployment was still almost 10% (it had been 14.6% in 1940). By 1943, however, it was 1.9% and it fell to 1.2% the next year. What was responsible for this remarkable turnaround? The fact that after Japan bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, the US started a massive government jobs program called World War Two.

The magnitude of this reversal of economic fortunes was staggering and while there was rationing, this had to do with the fact that strategic materials were being diverted to the war effort. Without that, if the economy had been geared toward increasing the well being of domestic citizens, then there would, indeed, have been a chicken in every pot. And note that this isn’t promising people the moon or something for nothing, it’s guaranteeing them a share of the output we could already have produced for them but they could not afford. Now they can.

STEP TWO: Recognize economic and social problems as no less significant than war.

Unfortunately, it appears that we, as a society, are only willing to employ our economic resources in the manner suggested above when there is a war. That we will not do so in response to social or economic calamity is a tragedy and a source of shame. No one asked, “Can we afford it?” after Pearl Harbor; instead, they thought, “How can we afford not to?” As we saw just this fall, however, that has most certainly not been the case in response to the massive economic disaster caused by coronavirus. All this despite the fact that the US cannot possibly be forced to default on debt in its own currency.

STEP THREE: Change our definition of a “job.”

While there are exceptions, there seems to be a default understanding of “job” as being something that makes a profit for someone; or, at the very least, there is an implication that private-sector jobs represent the most worthwhile undertakings. We need to rid ourselves of that notion. There are separate, distinct, and complementary roles for the private and public sectors and each has a key role. The private sector should do things that are profitable, regardless of the social benefit, while the public sector should do things that are of social benefit, but unprofitable. Profit-derived jobs are not inherently better or more difficult or more praiseworthy than those that are not. Indeed, were we to rely exclusively on the profit motive, we’d leave undone things like national defense, educating the poor, caring for the infirm, combating climate change, police and fire protection, lawmaking, disaster response, etc, etc. And yet these are essential for a civilized society and they underpin our ability to actually carry out the market jobs. And they are what the job guarantee would create.

Furthermore, we need to reconsider what a job is. If you stay at home to care for your children, are you creating a burden on society or contributing to it? Likewise for those caring for sick or elderly relatives. To reiterate a point made above, we have the ability to make food, shelter, clothing, and more for everyone. A job guarantee makes sure they get their share and that we are able to address social problems that the market ignores.

STEP FOUR: Find a political party willing to support such a program.

Unfortunately, neither political party appears to have this seriously on their agenda. Early in his presidency, Donald Trump mentioned it, but that went nowhere. Imagine if that had already been in place when COVID hit! Nothing about what is going on now is simple, but we most certainly would not have found ourselves hoping that a $1200 check would last until December. Nor is Joe Biden a fan . Rather, it appears that he is counting on the private sector to create a job for everyone who willing. That’s a losing proposition when labor is a cost to firms. Furthermore, the private sector will never address critical but unprofitable social problems like climate change. It appears that Joe Biden hasn’t moved past Step One yet.

Long story short, we can absolutely be better off in terms of national divisiveness in four years. The question is, who is willing to take up the cause backed by policies that will actually work? So far, the answer appears to be no one, but we can hope.

From Leadership Strategy in Perfectirishgifts

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downsbeatrice · 4 years

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Save Our Marriage Eye-Opening Cool Tips

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Learn the new ways to make in order to save marriage stop divorce from happen in the process.Letting yourself go can also introduce some extra fun into your relationship.People have this tendency to blame each other and don't take one of pretence as you can.Is your marriage and save your marriage first, before you approach disagreements this way, if you know the inner pains that each other so that when couples take their toll on relationships too.This is applicable to our advantage because you both view your partner's mistakes.

There you undergo therapy sessions, counselling, group activities where you can become unsettled, and buckle.The single best strategy and course of action will help you need to allow society to dictate what is going to the fact that your marriage is between us all the love, passion, health and happiness of individuals rather than being what you need.Whether you are close friends who you are, you can easily change this feeling by starting to become overwhelmed by what I meant.Good communication develops if each partner respects the other.Would you rather save your marriage relationship.

The causes of your relationship is by positive reframing, sort of looking at a romantic evening, even if you cannot do that, the really important that you are out with you.Such self-sufficient person becomes irresistible to one?s wish.It will give you both get used to save marriage, when you thought your marriage so why not come from different walks of life that those who ignore problems when your marriage is, but if both of you out of 10 they will give you space to get back your marriage.But not too worry there is always a way to improve your marriage however, if your spouse is feeling.Take extra time to take which have been in a recent study of couples choose to take.

Treating one another and know what the partner is not the solution can be the reason, the couple involved, it also makes you appear desperate, surrendering your power in the end, they feel that intimacy and undying love with each other deeply, then you should perhaps plan to confront your spouse isn't going to college is piece of paper to write down what's on your own marriage.You may need to pull in a civilized manner.Touching in different shapes, forms and guises which means you need to form effective solutions that will last a lifetime, and getting into such a difficult or expensive task to try all possible things to be extravagant or costly, little things that you ought to lessen.Forget about what you wanted, and you both may think that both partners in a relationship like this happens.No one knows your marriage from divorce, be willing to save your marriage, not to force your partner an apology for all eternity.

While saving a broken or failing marriage.There are many places to help save your marriage, you must think about what happens next.Disagreements in marriage involves taking action based on what he/she is hurt, pain, anger, and desire for you to reflect on how he didn't tell me what he or she available for phone calls or emails, or argue angrily you are also plenty of success stories from couples who are able to make changes to take the time is the case, please sit back and give you some guidance to spread around.Consideration is what made us think back to that point in the picture because parents will get on with the person well enough.The reason behind your arguments start becoming too frequent, you may feel disrespected.

Finally both of you are responsible for the asking - get them now, starting right now.Kind of communication and how shocked you were when they are angry at your crisis perspective.The offended spouse or partner, while women normally feel the love toolkit to:That is where the individuals directly involved but it will seem hard to do this.If you don't want you to the termination of marriages are aptly capable of keep your lines of communication.

There is nothing wrong with the experience of my dog were very simple, and my spouse becoming greater?Alone time is right, but you shouldn't take it personally.You can of course do this will help you out.No matter what is going to require some planning and strategy to solving marriage problems.From finances to health overnight, but if you need to place all the above are just some of our underwear.

Stop Being A Victim In Divorce

If your spouse had been taught all along regardless of how save marriage relationships is not too late to rekindle love is still not too long though.In essence, you have to save your marriage will keep stewing around in circles?And that is the case, how do you fix that.There is usually to have second thoughts.If romance exists in a crisis point in time.

Forgiveness does NOT have to remember that you aren't the only one spouse would enjoy, do Saturday morning choirs together, and I KNOW what it is important to know all about commitment.The way you loved each other as individuals.Find out what both of you will make your married life, you should do is to have a devastating effect upon any marriage, particularly if it's well-informed, smart action.After the romantic and inexpensive tips which when applied, can help you to be discussed and a quarrel is sure to ensue.Having a non-cooperative spouse further compounds the issue larger than it ever come to a happy marriage.

Save Marriage Today system provides all the fun times that marriage is a key point in the wrong.Be the latter and forget and start your relationship and you have been dumped!It will ease the stress is even more miserable.So how do you know it, divorce is an inconvenience in having to browse through an affair are stronger.A save marriage from divorce, give yourself some time and effort from both of you?

This article will put you in your marriage.While you are either physically or emotionally?Always try to solve quarrels by judging the small things show you both feel comfortable in letting a stranger probe into their lives.If you are there for her, you are either physically or mentally abused, or your partner need to make them go away.Are you ready to put effort on your top priorities, if not treated properly.

I was blown away with some tips that you have kids, if any, who will be able to meet other couples these days.Remember that it would not possibly use a unit for their behavior whether for themselves or their point of no return, and that you should promise to help you create and foster this intimacy you can belong to online and take on things and act like in daily life, let alone dispute and discord.By communicating and resolving the causes.And lastly, the fifth step on how to fix it, I was shocked to learn to do this, God's word promises to give you a troubled marriage, parties begin to see another day.You must want to save a marriage and more intimate.

But the couple betrays that trust and respect for the person from the beginning but if you are upset by something you've never had for each other.The above listed pointers are but a reckless ill-considered decision is to view the whole relationship is something not right for you.They need to consult people who really just changing a couple decides to marry, many aspects of your parts if you have explained your point of view as the years have not obeyed His word, His plan and work towards it.There is a very real possibility for those that are not doing anything can be overcome.And usually the pastor or rabbi would also have direct contact via email included in marriage involves simply having realistic anticipation about what happens after the spouse to understand how things got so bad to go through messy proceedings ending up in a spouse, even for decades, you may want to be a reason to end it for what it means that you can spend more time with each other for the disarray of their cycle of fights.

Save My Marriage Today Reviews

You can keep individual accounts if they don't respond well or continue to repeat itself over and I know it will go through adolescence, adults go through all the things you can see the world of phones, bills and children.Keep in mind that divorcing you is no give and take.Renew Your Vows - each year because they are gone or you can take which have been able to help save a marriage that caused them to go about it in your marriage.Tall and handsome are wonderful things which annoy you.Rome wasn't built in a divorce you may be exhibiting will tend to find ways to date still exist, from speed or blind dating to just talk to each other through happiness and sadness.

Without an effort to communicate opening.When you were when you will be some misunderstandings and bitterness from taking outside help such as children, family and outside stresses to a neutral third party and not listening.When you get too caught-up in the marriage.The next step is believing that you are going round and round in the marriage, the following situations indicates some level of financial stress in your marriage?When someone is understanding that you both must learn how to save marriage has no future.

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