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#feel free to ignore this is just... the classes on the legal systems were hard and super confusing at times. UK what is UP with that mess o
tsuyu-season · 3 years
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Anyone following me here that can and wants to help me with my homework for next week about the US and UK education systems?
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sunlightnmoonshine · 3 years
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In the end (pt. 1)
It feels a little surreal that the show is over and I will no longer have anything to look forward to because the devil judge set such a high bar in terms of writing and character exploration that I will always hold dear to my heart. Given that its actually done, I found myself drowning in the realisation that we will never see these characters again and how I feel about where the show left them off. So this is me coming to terms with it:
1. Min Jung Ho - Snake lol. Something I admired about the writing was how they didn't try to make him all out some evil piece of shit but rather someone that had a very strong misguided belief off some strange frustrations against Yohan who was changing the legal system more radically but effectively. Which he could not come to terms with. In the end he villanised Yohan and ignored the actual problems that persisted and inevitably contributed to the problem all in a sense of self righteousness, ah sorry, hypocrisy is the better word. The show leaves him looking oh so pathetic, he can't even raise his head to meet Gaon, the boy he betrayed severely and he'll rot for the rest of his life going down in history as a hypocrite who did nothing to actually fix the system he claimed he would be the arm of justice for. Its a fitting end.
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2. Heo Joong Se: Clown. The show really said he's a spoilt, stubborn arrogant joke until the end. Down to the way he insulted everyone but specifically insulted women. The way all he did in that court room was scream his head off without an ounce of remorse somehow still deluded by the fact that he's doing this for the country? But knowing fully well he's a businessman through and through and that was all he will be. I can not stress how phenomenal it is that it is Jung Sun Ah that shoots him dead. Its clear he's had it coming from her hand ever since she tried to suffocate him during the massage but it's just how randomly she does it. She's sick of him, she's aware she's going to be targeted, she's aware he's done too much behind her back and never once respected her and its in the midst of one of his screaming fits particularly screaming "I am the King" that the bullet goes through and there's silence. Perfection.
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3. The rest of the clowns of the SRF : idle bystanders that turned an eye away from inherent evil and repeatedly benefitted off of their actions without an ounce of remorse yet again. But hilarious nevertheless because they really became jesters on that stage in a desperate fit to live, threw themselves away to get out a door. It's noteworthy that they spent most of their time trying to stop the other from leaving instead of quietly watching and just getting out. None of them of are capable of that, they only know to take from others. Crumbling under the systematic stage they built? Poignant. I don't really care what anyone says they deserved to die point in tow with HJS who saw human life as so unworthy of it wasn't their own. There's a reason why human trafficking is considered one of the worst of crimes, human experimentation falls closely next to it. All because they were poorer than them. Guess their greed really out did them. Tried to put on a show in a court house which was anyway all just a staged facade and ultimately they died on that stage with their masks out for everyone to see. For their people to see them throw each other away to live. If they were going to throw each other away - their own kind- what wouldn't they do to the lower class? Oof the show gave them what they deserved- humiliation.
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4. Jung Sunah - I still struggle to come to terms with how she's gone and how painful everything about her was until the last minute. It's clear Sunah has been breaking for a few episodes now. She's so close to the top and she's realised how truly alone she is and she's realised Yohan will never want her the way she wants him to. She's realised every person she used to get to where she was, ended up being wasted stepping stones because she doesn't have what she wants all the way at the top and never will. The way the show has her quietly go to the experimentation centre and weep over the girl she saw herself in but someone she initially turned away from because she's not part of her bigger plan. The child she left to fall prey to the people Sunah has inevitably helped secure positions in her attempt to secure her own position. The way the show focuses on how the child has been repeatedly pierced with needles something Sunah hates the most and how she realises this is also her fault. She probably thought hey I'll get to the top and do things my way but as Yohan pointed out, ruling over trash isn't it, it'll never be worth it and she's essentially walking with a target on her back and she'll never be free because the weight of her sins will catch up to her and the rich will always be after her because she's not the same as them. She would be living on the edge forever. And she knows this.
Something I found very interesting was how she wasnt roped in on the crimes of the Dream House Project. Yohan only highlighted her crime as having killed K and Soohyun and its the frustration she feels in that moment that really gets me. It's also why I think she could never get out of the show because she killed innocent people which is highlighted repeatedly and at the time never showed remorse for it. BUT I love how the show somehow saves her from humiliation, until the end they paint her with regality and power because that is who Sunah is. Frankly she could have walked right out of the door while they were throwing a fit and Yohan would have let her because that was the terms of the game but he'd have come after her at some point and even if he didn't Gaon most certainly would have.
But it's the way the show brought it all back to how she feels about Yohan since he's the other half of what she's always wanted, the way she's happy he's alive, how she goes and stands in front of him and she's got her hand on the trigger of the gun while Yohan on the button of detonator. I believe, if Sunah had shot him Yohan would have detonated the bomb and died with them and I also believe deep down Sunah knew Yohan would somehow get out of this even if she didn't shoot him, so she really gave him the chance to get out and back to Elijah. I am not sure if Sunah couldn't shoot Yohan or if she didn't want to, and I lean towards the latter because she really liked him, it might have been ill placed desire but if things were different if she hadn't sided with the SRF in hopes of getting to the top she and Yohan might have worked things out and they would both be healing. If she only hadn't killed the innocent people to make a point... But at the end of it Sunah took her fate into her hands and I appreciate that the show gave her the agency over it, to decide not to shoot Yohan because she's finally letting go ( I stand by this but if Yohan had died Sunah would have lost - she never wanted him to die), because she won't do what the rest of the SRF scum want of her and because she's fine with going on her own terms.
That doesn't mean it didn't hurt though... I cry thinking about it because the show tried really hard to show how unfair everything was to Sunah and how if circumstances had been different, if the world had cared a bit more how she might have turned out differently. Her final moments the flashback to the one act of kindness she had needed in her life, the way Yohan really must have sparkled in her eyes, and how much she valued that moment all the way to her death because no matter what, in his own loneliness and difficulty he was kind to her. Jeez it hurts.
Ideally I'd have wanted her to live but I don't know how that would have worked out. At the end of it not all villains are evil. Some are products of the ills of the system that left them alone and let them become monsters but behind a monster there can also be a victim.
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disaster-j · 2 years
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Another episode I really related to as a law student. It's really interesting seeing parallel issues in both the American and Thai legal system when I assume they're different in many ways as well. I especially liked them talking about the civil/business side of the legal system because I feel like that is often ignored when talking about unjust laws around the world. It's not just that big businesses are immune from criminal liability, its hard for the "people" to hold them accountable at all
Yeah that makes sense.
Even though the thai political system and government are uniquely different from those of other countries, as long as we're looking at capitalist states there are going to be parallels to be acknowledged. Capitalism is built upon the exploitation of the working class and works to ensure wealth and monopoly to the few on top. It is an inherently flawed system created and kept in place to maintain the wealth disparity and keep people in poverty. A free market cannot truly exist in a capitalist state because of how easy it is for a handful of people to have complete and unchecked control of the market.
The example Gram gave of Tawi copying products by smaller companies and then running them out of business is so real. This is something amazon does routinely. First, it offers itself as the premium platform for small sellers to market their products. Then, when a particular product is selling quite well, amazon replicates it almost exactly, starts selling it under their own brand and bans the original seller from their site. And because of their near monopoly on the online retail sector, the small business owners often have nowhere else to go. Even if they start selling on their own independent site or use a different site meant for small businesses free of corporations, they will be unable to make the numbers they were through amazon, simply because other sites just don't have that customer base. These kinds of immoral yet entirely legal practices are essentially killing small businesses altogether.
Did you know that at this very moment a majority of the Indian online retail sector is controlled by American businessmen? Years ago, when online retailers first started gaining traction, there were a handful of Indian sites that dominated the market. The biggest online retailer at the time was Flipkart. Until Amazon came in and used unfair practices to try to take over the sector. Their slogan is literally "apni dukaan" or "our shop" and their entire advertising strategy is built on trying to legitimise their monopoly over the Indian market when they're not even an Indian company. But we're in a post colonial world yeah. Flipkart was also acquired by Walmart in 2018, making Reliance the only online retailer left in the competition that is still Indian owned and run. But no one's rejoicing bc Ambani sucks. That's three companies with complete monopoly over the market and they're not even sharing. All three are in a constant struggle to push eo out until they're the last man standing. Imagine the entire Indian online retail market being controlled by one man. Fucking yikes.
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A Knight’s Oath
Day 6 of Jeankasa Week 2021: Royal AU
AO3
Sir Kirstein aids the princess of Hizuru escape a coup d’état organized by the marleyan Jaeger brothers.
There isn’t one inch of my body that isn’t yelling this is wrong, not one bit that isn’t shouting at me to return, to go back to my chambers, cover my ears with both hands and ignore that letter until the signal comes from within the palace. I came here to do a job: become her close guard, infiltrate the institution, take down the royal line.
That one job could have me swimming in silver. One job would be enough to buy myself that lifestyle I can only dream about. One job, and I could leave knighthood behind, buy myself a castle, a royal title and a woo wife to go with it. A pretty young wife with dark hair and big eyes and a whole army of servants to fulfill our every wish.
And yet here I am, walking with more purpose than ever before in my life, heading towards her.
Like most upper class Hizuran structures, the Azumabito royal palace is built atop a tall stone base. It’s an intricate maze of buildings, rooms and sliding doors that I’ve spent two years memorizing. I should know, better than anyone, how hard it’ll be for us to sneak out. Even if we do it without anyone being aware, even if nobody knows what the princess has found out.
“Jean, over here.” her voice calls from behind one of the doors. I follow like a bee searching honey. I enter the place where she’s been waiting for me and encounter her wearing the peasant clothes I procured for her a couple of days ago. She’s as lovely in them as she was the first time I saw her, sitting atop a high throne next to the regent, Kiyomi Azumabito, wearing a wonderful kimono of red fabric and golden threads.
Her mother, a pure-blooded Azumabito royal, fell in love with an eldian man, and in the process of marrying him, she also fell into disgrace and was expelled from the balance years before conceiving the princess. After a wave of plague that caused the death of the shogun and his closest relatives, however, Kiyomi had sent a contingent to bring back the princess’ mother to serve as regent until the princess came of age.
Stories say Kiyomi found a ten-year-old princess orphaned, living of scraps she found in the field near her home. Her parents were also killed by the plague. Some people say they starved, some others that they were murdered. However they died, the princess came back to the ancestral home of the Azumabito alone and Kiyomi took her into her care. Even I am aware of the love the woman has for her adoptive daughter, how much she cares for her safety.
It was her the first to find out about Marley’s plans to overthrow Hizuru’s royal line, of the spies sent by Marley in the shape of knights for Hizuru’s princess. It was Kiyomi who came to me, asking for help for the princess. She knew my involvement in Marley’s plans gave me a lot more intel than any other servant could’ve collected…and because she saw the way I looked at the princess that day our delegation arrived, two days ago, and how I’ve seen her every day since. She figured out quickly how much affection I carry for the princess and knew, barely one year after my arrival, that I would never leave her adoptive daughter behind.
“Are you ready?” I ask, putting on the peasant clothes, hiding the katana Kiyomi left in my room in the folds of my own hizuran clothes. “Your highness, are you ready?”
“I don’t want to leave.” She says; she’s turned away from me, giving me what little privacy she can while I change. “I can’t leave Kiyomi. I can’t leave the people of the palace behind.”
“Many of your servants are traitors, princess,” I remind her, tapping on her shoulder to indicate I’m decent again. A slight tremble travels her back and I curse myself; I’d forgotten how reserved hizuran people are when it comes to physical touch.
She turns around and faces me, resolution clear on her face. “Traitors or not, a ruler owes herself to her people,” she says, more dignified than any other royal I ever saw in Marley. “Traitors or not, I cannot leave them alone. And Kiyomi—”
“You heard their plans, princess,” I say, wondering how many times I’ll have to repeat the same thing to get her to forget that commitment to the people the Azumabito care so much about. “The moment the clock hits twelve, the guards will be at your doors. Zeke plans on executing you at dawn, on the morning of your eighteenth birthday. It’s either that or be forced into marrying his brother.”
“And I must let Kiyomi’s head hang just for the sake of escaping?”
“Mikasa,” I say; using her name feels strange. It’s a lovely name, but also forbidden. No knight is allowed to address the princess by her name, nor try to give her orders, let alone try to convince her to follow a plan she doesn’t agree with. The princess widens her eyes in brief shock, but nods, inviting me to continue. “You’re the last of your line. Kiyomi is willing to sacrifice her life for you.”
The princess lowers her head. “I can’t leave her.”
“If you can’t respect her wishes, at least do it out of pity for me,” I say, in a last attempt to get her moving. Time is slipping away from us, and Eren’s retinue must be making its way across the mountain roads already. “I’ve given up everything by just being here. If you stay, I hang with you, dishonored, tortured first.”
The princess looks up at me, her eyes stone-cold. “You came here under false pretenses, betraying mefirst. And now you’ve betrayed your country by being here. How can I be sure you won’t betray me again?”
Ah, how can I assure her without looking like a lovesick fool?
“I’ve served your palace for two years now, haven’t I?” I say. Mikasa nods, her gaze softening somewhat. In an act of boldness, or perhaps a leap of faith, I take a hold of her hands and fall to my knees. “I’m well acquainted with you now, princess, I cannot bring myself to leave you behind or betray you even if I should wish it.”
“Why, though, Jean?” she asks, and the mention of my name from her lips wraps me up like a warm blanket. Suddenly I remember again why I don’t care about the lost wealth, about that castle and title, about the group of nameless women I could’ve wooed into marriage. It’s her. Just her.
“Because you deserve to live. A great leader deserves to live,” I reply, bringing the back of her hands to my lips. I graze them briefly; a royal courtesy from Marley, never performed hereabouts. Royalty in Hizuru barely touches each other, and I can feel her trembling at the mere touch of lips against her hand. “I mean it when I say I won’t betray you, princess. I’m devoted to you as I haven’t been devoted to anything in my life. All I can hope for is that you believe me.”
“I believe you, Jean,” she says after a moment of quiet introspection. “I’m not sure why, but your face always seemed honest. From day one, even when you were scheming against me.”
I can’t help but to smile. “I’m willing to use my whole life to convince you I’m no longer scheming.” I say, standing to face her, holding her hand still. “Are you ready, princess?”
A sad smile adorns her face as she nods, and I’m forced to not focus too much on her face as we sneak out of the castle. Apart from being well-educated, she’s been trained extensively in martial arts and acrobatics, so sliding across the various rooftops of the palace and jumping from one terrace to another proves an easy task for her. She looks back at me at a point, her pale face illuminated by the moonlight, and I manage to give her a tight, ridiculous smile in encouragement.
I’ve seen plenty of women before, but she is by far the most beautiful sight my eyes have ever witnessed. But her beauty is just one of the things that have drawn me to betray my homeland’s coup d’état against Hizuru. I met her when she was sixteen, and I nineteen; these two years, I’ve seen her grow into a fair, kind ruler, one that cares more about the wellbeing of her subjects than the wealth of the family mines or the expansion of her land.
At seventeen, she convinced the council to abolish arranged marriages for women, recognize divorces requested by wives as legal, increase taxes for royals and establish a free education system for the entire country. I know she had in mind to establish free healthcare within her fifteen-year plan. All in all, she is a great leader.
Then there’s the fact that she’s extremely good at sparring. And I’ve always had a soft spot for women that are good with swords, especially women who can beat me in a fight.
I guess, in a way, spending my days with her, being with her…it all makes me want to be better. Before Hizuru, before the princess, all I thought about was ways of getting a comfortable life. My whole childhood, I’d spent it scamming people. Then knighthood had seemed a good way to find myself a relatively wealthy wife or become rich by taking down a king, or by plundering a town.
Just being by her side makes me a better man.
I want to keep being that better man.
I also want to keep seeing that pretty face of hers. I want to keep hearing her rants. I want to keep sharing my thoughts with her. I just want to be with her.
___________________________
Hizuru’s capital is surrounded by tall mountains. It’s thanks to my military training that I know which rivers the Jaeger brothers will use to invade the city, and which ones will give us safe passage to the sea, where a boat provided by the queen of Paradis Island awaits. Hizuru is a large nation, however, and the possibilities of our escape plan going sour are high. Still, I cannot let any of my insecurities show on my face. I took it upon my shoulders to protect the princess, to take her to her new home to keep her from being executed, forced into marriage, or tortured to death by the royals who had aided the Jaeger brothers conspire against the Azumabito.
By the time the sun begins to climb the mountains, we are miles away from the capital. And yet, we can hear the execution bells ring across the watch towers. Heads are starting to roll in the palace, the bells across the Hizuran Mountain Pass tell us, and one of them must be Kiyomi’s. Mikasa sits next to me on the motorboat, crying into her sleeves, leaning slightly against my arm.
“I’m sorry.” I manage to muster. “I wish I could’ve done more.”
She shakes her head, not looking at me. “Why did your people do this to us?”
I say the first few words that come into my mind. “Greed…I’ve never interacted much with the Jaeger brothers, but I know that the eldest wants power, and the mines in Hizuru are too rich to ignore. And the youngest cannot stand monarchies. He says people in them aren’t free.”
“Why decide to impose a dictatorship instead? What kind of hypocrisy is that?” she asks, although it’s clear she doesn’t expect me to answer her. “Why kill the council members? Kill Kiyomi? Our people are happy, and I wanted to work to make their lives better. I really wanted to. Why invade a foreign land that has rightful rulers with the excuse of freedom?”
“I wish I could explain it all,” I say, and the sight of the tear streaks on her face turns me into a rambling idiot. “I’m sorry, princess. I’m sorry I was with them. I’m sorry I didn’t do more to stop them. I’m sorry I came into your palace with—”
“You’ve already said you’ll spend your whole life making it up to me, won’t you? It is a promise, isn’t it?” the princess replies, and something inside me tells me she might be too tired to hear my apologies. She took the news of my original plan badly and stopped talking to me for a whole week, not being able to just look at me in the eyes, with fair reason. We spent so many days together with me as her guard, we became friends over those long nights of study, our few sneaky expeditions outside the palace, the times when I brought her street food for dinner in our chambers, the times when she’d sung for me and Kiyomi from behind a white canvas…
All those memories of friendship are stained now, covered with the mark of my initial plan to help the Jaeger brothers with their coup d’état. “I mean to fulfill that promise, princess,” I say, more convinced than I thought I would. “I’ll do anything to redeem myself from the initial betrayal.”
“What if I ask you to raise an army for me?” she asks, wiping the tears off her eyes with the back of her hand. “What if I say that you will prove you’ve redeemed yourself once you help me gain my throne back?”
Her face has acquired that solemn expression she uses whenever she addresses the council. And, like the council members, I cannot bring myself to say no to her. “I-I will try my best, princess. I do not have any influence, and I’ve no money to offer. But I will raise you an army, I will do my best.”
“Do you promise?”
“I could swear on my knight’s honor, princess, but you and I know I don’t have any. I’m a traitor to you and to my own homeland, remember?” I admit with an awkward smile, scratching the back of my head. “I’m lucky enough as it is that you trusted me enough to come with me.”
Mikasa smiles, then wraps my hand with both of hers. “There is one way you can assure me.” she says, her eyes not meeting mine. The sunlight is bathing us both; we’ll enter the lowlands soon, and speed will be of essence to avoid getting captured. Perhaps my concern for speed is what keeps me from realizing her face is dangerously near mine for the first couple of moments.
“What way?” I manage to stammer.
“An oath on your soul,” she explains. “It’s not a thing we do often here, though.”
“Is it like a blood oath?”
The princess shakes her head. “It’s something a bit deeper than that.”
I swallow hard, wondering if she’s going to force me to cut my finger off, or something worse. I don’t have any gripes if that’s what it takes to convince her I would fight to gain her trust back, but I can’t help being concerned about the health implications of cutting a finger off in the middle of a river.
“I’m not going to ask you to cut a finger off, Jean,” she half-sobs, half-laughs, guessing my thoughts. “It’s nothing as ghastly as that.”
“From the way you’re talking, it seems like a big deal.”
A soft blush travels her cheeks. “It is,” she says. “It’s a soul promise. We don’t touch each other here, not after you’ve left childhood behind. Let alone if you’re from a royal family. These oaths only happen behind closed doors, or at weddings.”
“What kind of oath is it, princess?”
“Kiss,” she says, closing her eyes. “You close the oath with a kiss, and your soul is bound to that person.”
“A k-kiss?” I manage to say, realizing at last how close she is sitting to me. If I must be honest, for the most part during my first year on the job, I paid little attention to hizuran traditions. It wasn’t until she started talking to me more that I began to care for the country I was hired to take down. And despite paying more attention to the country she loves so much, I have never heard of such an oath. Could it be that she just wants to feel someone else’s skin on hers?
A smirk appears on my face, and she seems to guess what thoughts are going through my head. She withdraws from me, narrowing her eyes dangerously. “It’s not like I want to!” she says, her cheeks burning red, her murderous expression only increasing my smile. “Stop looking at me like that!”
“I’m sorry!” I say, coughing to clear my throat. Her hands are still holding mine. “I didn’t mean to disrespect you, princess. Please, tell me about this oath.”
“No.” Mikasa replies, shaking her head. “You are clearly not mature enough for it.”
“Please, princess.” I say, and she gives me a serious glance before sighing in defeat.
“If you do it, it’ll be important. You cannot back away from this; you must fulfill it even if it takes your life. Your promise will be bound to your soul; and your soul is bound to me.” Mikasa hunches her shoulders and exhales, her eyes set on the mountains we’re leaving behind, her eyes longing for the warmth of the castle, the voice of her caretaker.
Her home crumbled in the lapse of a few hours; all her friends in the palace, her adoptive mother, the members of the council that cared for her…they’re all dead by now, or tortured, perhaps, to get information on her whereabouts. Kiyomi is probably getting the worst of all. And that’s when it hits me: I’m all she’s got left. Me, one of the knights sent to infiltrate her palace, gain their trust, and stab them in the back.
What a grim scenario that is.
“Princess, please look at me,” I say. She turns to face me, and my lips press against hers for a couple of seconds. When we part, her eyes are as wide as plates. “I promise I will not fail you.”
She nods, her hands clutching mine, her cheeks tinted pink. “Thank you.”
I let go of her hands and wrap her face with both of mine. Then, I press my lips against hers. This time, when we part, her eyes are closed. “I promise I am bound to you, blood, bone and soul.” I say, then kiss her again, a little longer this time. “I promise I won’t rest until you get your throne back.”
She smiles at me. “You’re splitting your soul into a lot of little pieces there.”
I kiss her again, and this time her lips move against mine, her arms wrap around my shoulders. Many times these two years I dreamed about kissing her –no, I’ve imagined doing a lot more with her, if I must be honest. But it was all fantasies, half-built while I looked after her during royal events, while I guarded her in her sleep, while we had our quiet dinners.
“I swear, my princess,” I say as we come apart once more, grazing her cheek with the back of my hand. “I swear my soul, heart and body are yours, from now until I the day I’m ripped from you.”
“That sounds a lot like a wedding vow.” She points out, holding my hand in place against her face.
I smile. “I’m sorry, princess.”
“Don’t be, please,” she says, then places a quick kiss on my fingers. “You can call me by my name from now on, you know. I’m not a princess anymore.”
“You’re always a princess, though.”
She shakes her head. “You and I are fugitives,” she says, setting her eyes on the mountains again, a fire burning bright behind the grey curtain of her eyes. She wants revenge; she wants to gain her throne, her homeland, back, and rain fire upon the ones who dared to lift a finger against Hizuru.
And all I want, I realize with a bit of embarrassment, is to keep her safe, stay by her side.
“I’ll raise an army for you, Mikasa.”
“We’ll raise it together. I believe in your oath,” she assures me, leaning forward to press her lips against mine for a long moment. “And I swear to you that when I get my throne back, I will give you all the lands and wealth you desire.”
“I could do without all that.” I say, shrugging, eliciting the first smile I’ve seen from her in a while.
I want to protect that smile, I think as our boat picks up speed. We’ll enter the lowlands in a couple of miles, and it’ll be a race to get to the ocean. The island is the only safe option for the princess now; the only safe place for the both of us. Despite my oath to her, all my mind can think of is a peaceful life with her. No luxuries, no armies, no grand schemes for power. Just the princess and I, sharing our lives in a quiet cottage by a river, hidden away from the world on Paradis Island.
It’s a fool’s dream, I know.
“I’ll keep you safe.” I assure her, giving her hand a little squeeze, hoping this isn’t too much touching for someone like her.
To my surprise, she squeezes my hand in return. “And I’ll keep you safe.”
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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years
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Searching for Answers: Alex and Jake the Shelter Guy
CW: Pet whump as a setting (Box Boy universe). References to dehumanization, brief vague reference to torture and noncon. If you’ve ever read @deluxewhump‘s excellent work (if you haven’t, you should be), you’ll see a very familiar face.
Jake takes naps between classes.
He spends three days a week at school taking 18 credit hours, in class from 8 in the morning until 10:30 at night. Then he heads to Nat’s place and does the overnight-house-worker thing, giving the rescues a sense of security knowing somebody familiar and safe is there if they have bad dreams or need help. The other four days a week he works with Natalie Yoder and Dr. Masood, learning about the rescues and how to help them.
It sounds exciting, being a college student secretly part of an underground liberation movement, but mostly it’s just exhausting.
He’s going to graduate with a degree in public health and a double-minor in communications and philosophy. It looks stupid, on the surface, he guesses, but he’s got a plan. Advocacy for runaways and human pets, working towards getting this country to a place to consider a full legal liberation and adjustment period for every person trapped in the system. 
Public health, so he can stand as an advocate with the degree to back up his hands-on experience and knowledge. Communications, to make him a better advocate by giving him the tools to understand how to utilize the media to change the way human pets are seen. Philosophy, to give him the skills to dig deeply into the thought processes around human pet ownership. 
The movement’s got more than 75 years of entrenched prejudice to undo. One day, he’s one hundred percent certain, pet ownership is going to be abolished as the fucking crime against humanity it really is. 
Jake wants to be a part of the group that finally makes it happen. 
The only problem is that he’s set himself an impossible schedule, and he’s so tired some days it’s all he can do to stay awake through his classes. He sleeps like four hours a night, and one day that’s going to catch up to him in a big way, but for now… he naps on benches and in courtyards, naps in the teacher’s lounge in the English department and behind a bunch of bookshelves in the philosophy hallway. 
It’s nice, except for when some asshole decides not to let him.
“Hey, uh, you’re… Jake Stanton, right?”
Jake groans, rubbing at his temple as he sits back and rests his back against the crumbling old brick wall of the oldest building on campus. He squints up at the fucking frat boy looking down at him. Not that Jake’s ever seen him before, but it’s easy to tell one of the fratbrats when you see them. 
He’s got the look - super clean-cut, blond hair and blue eyes, he’s even got a square jaw. Maybe not as musclebound as some of the other ones, but he’s still unmistakable. He looks kind of familiar, too, but that’s kind of the problem with frat guys. They mostly dress enough alike that it’s kind of hard to tell if he’s had a class with them or just had a class with one of their brothers. 
The guy looks nervous as hell. 
“Yeah, I’m Jake. Do I know you?”
“Uh, probably… prob’ly you do.” The frat guy shifts uneasily, one hand gripped tightly onto the backpack slung over one shoulder, a couple of textbooks under the other arm. “I’m Alex. We’re both minoring in, uh, philosophy, I think?”
“Oh, yeah.” Jake pushes back a yawn, just barely covering it with one hand. “Yeah, okay. I thought you looked familiar. What can I do for you? I’m sorry in advance if you wanted help with the essay thing, I haven’t even started on it, I’ve been busy with work.”
Nat’s newest charge had nonstop fucking nightmares from training, night after night. Jake had barely gotten a wink of sleep. 
“No, that’s okay, I, uh-... actually I’d be good to help you, if you need it. I finished mine, ran it by our-... my buddy last night.” Jake blinks, squinting again. He could swear Alex the Frat Guy is blushing. “Um. I just. I heard from, from some people that you’re… that you… know stuff.” Alex’s voice drops, into something just above a whisper. “About, uh, you know. Pets. Box Boys.”
 Jake stiffens, as his chest goes a little cold. “Who told you that?” He doesn’t talk about it much - being openly part of the pet lib movement isn’t exactly dangerous, but nobody talks pet liberation in polite company. 
 “Um. This girl I know. Meghan Jensen-” Alex pronounces the h, just a little, Meg-hen, and Jake can’t quite keep himself from smiling. “-she’s in a sorority… we kind of partner with sometimes… she said she heard from her twin sister Hannah who’s into some, like, punk underground lib shit… that you were, um. Someone I could talk to. For advice.”
Jake nods, slowly, giving himself time to process the words. He knows who Hannah Jensen is, he’s seen her at some of the group meetings and protests. He knows she has a twin who’s in a sorority, too. If this Alex guy is fucking with him, he did way too much research first. “Yeah, okay. Not out here, though, all right?”
Alex nods, expression going solemn and uncertain. “We can’t, like… get arrested just for talking about it, can we? I definitely can’t have that on my, like, record.”
Jake wants to laugh, but then he sees that the guy’s serious. Probably all he’s seen is the company propaganda shit about theft of property and consent and everything. It’s fake enough that no millenial or Gen Z person’s going to fall for it, but it’s still basically everywhere you look. Hard to make too many inroads against everyone’s assumptions about the system without someone who knows how to work it.
Hence - public health, communications, and philosophy.
“No, we won’t get arrested for talking. But someone might follow me home.” Jake makes his voice light and joking, even though it’s a genuine concern, and pushes himself to his feet. He’s actually a little taller than Alex, and more muscled-up, too.
“I just… need help. With, um. Someone I know.”
Jake blinks, thrown off-guard. “Someone specific?” Then it clicks, and he groans. “Shit. You’re with the frat, aren’t you? I’ve heard of you guys, you’ve got the guy going into the NFL. You’re one of those assholes that bought one-”
“Look, it seemed like… I didn’t really think about it, okay?” Alex’s face is even redder now, but he looks half-miserable with it, embarrassed and ashamed. Like Jake had caught him dealing drugs at an elementary school playground. “He’s… I just wanted to ask you some stuff about things I’ve noticed about him… and about Box Boys, and…”
“Why don’t you call the fucking company, Alex? They come with a number on their fucking brochure.” Jake’s voice goes dark, and he sees Alex bristle defensively. “Right there on the back, when you buy a human being. Customer service for your personal slave.”
“Hey, back the fuck off.” Alex’s eyes narrow, and he moves closer into Jake’s space, glaring at him. “Look, we went in on the whole thing together, and now I’ve gotten to know him, and I just-... I’m, um. I’m worried, and… I needed someone to talk to.”
Jake wants to push back again, to push harder. To ask Alex what the fuck he was thinking, being part of a group buying a human being. If he thought it’d be funny, or if he just cracked under peer pressure. But it won’t help, and instead he takes a deep breath, remembering Nat’s words. One step, one conversation, one person at a time. We can change the story, but you have to change minds and hearts, first. “... yeah, okay. Okay, I get it. Yeah. I can talk to you. I’m sorry, I just-”
“No, I get it,” Alex says, quickly, backing up again. “I get it. I probably look like a total rat-bastard to you.”
“No… not really. But if you’re, uh. Look, there’s a place I meet people sometimes to talk about this. I’ll buy you a drink and we’ll talk there.”
“Yeah, okay. That sounds cool.”
“What’s your major, anyway?” Jake asks, sliding his own backpack on, eyes scanning over the campus. He’s met so many rescues who should be walking around college like this, safe and easy and free. He’s met a few that he’s pretty sure were walking around places like this, before WRU picked them up. “I feel like you were really good at arguing in Intro to Philosophy. So… something public-speaking-focused, right?”
“Uh, Poli Sci,” Alex says, falling into step beside him as Jake makes his way down the dirt path made by tens of thousands of students over the course of decades simply choosing to ignore the paved sidewalks and make their own way.
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“What? Why do you say that?”
“You look like a baby politician, and you’re good at arguing. What else would you be here for?” Alex snorts, hunching his shoulders a little defensively as his sneaker scrapes along the ground, and Jake sighs. “Sorry, man. I didn’t really mean that as an insult. I’m just tired as shit and everything’s been coming out the wrong way today. It really has not been my day.”
There’s a headache pounding behind his eyes, the fuzzy-headed exhaustion that could easily take him over. But he tells himself the rescues - and the Box Boys and Box Babes still in captivity - have it so much worse than he does.
That gives him a little more energy to keep walking.
“No, it’s okay. If I want to go into politics I should probably look like a politician, right?” Alex flashes him a hint of a smile, sidelong, and Jake relaxes. Okay, Alex the Frat Guy’s not as bad as he thought he’d be.
They end up chatting pretty amicably about professors and TAs they liked and hated in their shared philosophy courses, homework, and Alex laughs at Jake’s surprise, finding out that only a few of his frat brothers are even in sports as part of their long-term goal. Alex mentions a ‘Zee’ a few times, and eventually Jake realizes he’s talking about the Box Boy his frat bought, not just another frat brother or friend. 
He doesn’t talk about the Box Boy like he’s just an object to be owned. Jake wonders why he went in on the purchase at all. Probably, he decides, peer pressure. Everyone does stupid shit because of peer pressure. Jake smoked for a while in high school. His friend Krista got the worst haircut Jake had ever seen. Maybe Alex’s stupid peer pressure thing was buying a fucking person. 
Nope. He has to stop being so bitter about it. It’s just part of being in a subculture - and like it or not, being against pet ownership is way more of a minority, right now, than being either neutral or in favor of it.
If he carries all this anger back to the shelter tonight, the rescues will pick up on the tension, on his unhappiness. They’re all experts at reading the slightest negative change in mood, and while not all of them panic, they will all start trying to fix it in whatever way they understand. Jake definitely doesn’t have the energy to deal with a handful of recovering pets trying to clean or cook or screw their way out of danger. 
He walks Alex to the Student Center while the conversation is still safely focused on surface level stuff, grabbing himself and and Alex both iced coffees before he heads downstairs. Alex seems like he knows every third person they see. Jake can’t decide if that’s some weird politician-to-be gladhanding, or if he genuinely just has a really good memory for faces and names. 
He has to stop being so bitter about politics, too - not everyone’s going to be Senator Carlotta Grant, after all. Maybe Alex will be one of the good guys, for real. 
Maybe Jake can help nudge him that direction, if he wasn’t already headed that way.
The basement has a bunch of space for students, too, but Jake can count on his hands the amount of people he’s ever seen here over the course of his entire collegiate career. There’s a small booth where a bored girl with long black hair is ostensibly selling jewelry and pottery, a small open area with a piano that has a thin film of dust, and Jake leads an increasingly nervous Alex all the way to the back, where a series of hard wooden booths are built into the walls around an open hardwood floor. It’s dim down here, and dark as hell. Jake likes to call it the Speakeasy - to himself, at least. That’s what it reminds him of, speakeasies in Hollywood movies.
“I’ve never been down here,” Alex says, slightly hushed. “I didn’t even know this existed.”
“Yeah, it’s like… everyone just collectively decides to ignore this part of the Student Center. Works for me. We have meetings down here sometimes. Plus, the fact that nobody knows about it means nobody is gonna give us a hard time about whatever you’re going to tell me.” 
Jake slides into a booth and Alex sits across from him, the both of them slipping their backpacks off. It feels sort of hilariously surreal, like they’re in a movie about spies or the only two people who know the truth at the beginning of a zombie movie. 
Alex pulls out his cell phone, nervously fiddling with it and staring down. The silence draws slowly out until Jake finally leans over. Alex’s blue eyes jump up to his. “Look. The answer is yes, I, uh. I do some stuff with pet lib groups now and then. If you’re looking for info on, like, how to donate and shit, I’ve got some papers in my backpack with stuff you can do to help the movement… we could really use some clothing donations and, like, canned food and stuff right now-”
“No, um. I mean, yeah, I’ll… I’ll ask around and see if any of the guys have clothes they don’t need, but… that’s not… what I want to ask about.”
Jake frowns, then asks, softly, “Are you looking to help him get out of the system? Your Box Boy, at your frat house?”
There’s a pause. Alex goes wide-eyed, like he hadn’t even thought of it. “No! I mean. Not, um. I don’t think he’d want to… I just wanted to… to ask. Some stuff. About, um. How to help him act more like, uh, like a person. Like, if I take him out or whatever.”
Jake’s headache is getting worse.
“You want me to give you advice on how to train him?” He can’t stop the jagged edge that creeps into his voice. “So that you can, what-... hide what he is and take your pet around without having to answer any questions about it and face up to what you did-”
“Holy shit, dude,” Alex says, sitting back and setting his phone slowly down. “You don’t need to get so mad about it. I didn’t mean-”
“Well, what did you mean? Look, I do a lot of work with the kinds of people who get bought. I’m sorry if that freaks you out or something, but… you should see the damage this whole system does, you know?”
Alex is quiet, for a long time, just staring at him. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking - he’s already got that way of looking serious and thoughtful without actually giving anything away. Then, quietly, he says, “Zee has nightmares.”
“You call him Zee?”
“Yeah, uh. I mean, technically Z2, it’s part of his, um, official-”
“Yeah, I get it.” Jake sips his iced coffee and watches Alex hurriedly pick his up and sip, too, like he’d forgotten it was there. To Jake at least it seemed like a lifeline, a way to hold back the urge he has to grab this guy by the shoulders and shake him. “They make them answer to numbers. Dehumanization is, like, the first step of what they do.”
Alex’s face twists, like he’s tasted something awful, and he looks away. “Right. So, anyway, we all kind of decided on Z2. But… I like Zee better. It seems like it’s short for, for a real name, maybe. Like I could call him that in public and nobody, nobody would know-”
“That you own him?”
“No.” Alex sits up straighter. “No, not exactly. I figure it’d make it easier for him. I don’t-... I don’t really care what people think about me-”
“If you’re going into politics, you’re definitely going to care what people think of you.”
“Look, man, let me finish a sentence, okay? Just, like,  single sentence?” Alex pauses, and waits, and Jake finally sits back and sips his drink again and nods, silently. Alex sighs. “Thanks. I just meant that if I call him Zee, people will talk to him like he’s a regular guy. And I think he deserves it, to be able to go out and just, like, talk to people and be normal. That’s all I meant. But, this is… you, um. You just said you work with them, right? With, um. The… ones who get away? Get freed, or whatever?”
“They don’t get freed,” Jake says flatly. “That’s a myth. They run away or they stay kept.”
“... right.” Alex frowns, looking down at his coffee again, rubbing his fingers over the condensation building up along the clear plastic. “You said you work with them? So, um. I just. I want to know how to make things better for Zee, while he lives with us.”
“Belongs to you.”
Alex groans, throwing his hands up in the air. “Fine! What is it with you, dude? I’m trying to make Zee’s life better. I can’t just, like, make him not a Box Boy. One of my brothers technically has all his paperwork, we all went in on him together, he belongs to the whole fucking frat. If it was up to me and Dom, we’d free him in a heartbeat, okay? But it’s not up to us. And I can’t figure out how to make things better for him unless I know where to even start.” 
There’s real anguish in his voice, now. Actual, genuine guilt and remorse. Jake closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, calms the anger that he feels buzzing along all his nerves. It’s not Alex’s fault. He’s part of a system just like everybody else. Born into it, raised in it, no need to question or even think it through, until something hits him where he lives. 
Literally, in this case.
A lot of people are paid a lot of money to make sure people like Alex don’t ask questions, don’t try to make anything different or better. A lot of people work very hard to put out marketing materials and buy TV ads and write speeches for the President all about how great and above-board and one hundred percent normal it all is. 
And people like Jake are the nutjobs standing on a streetcorner wearing a sandwich board.
“Yeah,” Jake says. Just something to fill the silence, while he keeps his breathing slow and even, takes another drink. “Look, can I… can I say something?”
“Sure. I haven’t been insulted enough today, have at it.” Alex slumps back, looking almost morose, like a kid tired of being yelled at for listening to his music too loud. 
“I”m not going to insult you. Uh, anymore. I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. It’s… I live it, every single day, so it’s kind of hard to remember not everybody does. I’ll help you out with some advice, but… but I’m really going to want you to set him free for us to help him, you know? Or people like us, anyway. Just… know that any advice I give you’s going to come from that direction, okay?”
Alex swallows, drawing little nonsense symbols on the tabletop with one finger, as he thinks. “... okay. Yeah.”
“Good. So you said he has nightmares?” He pauses long enough for Alex to nod. “Okay. That’s a good starting place. They all have nightmares. Fucking all of them. Got it? And I bet if you wake him up, he doesn’t even know what he was dreaming about, right?”
“Uh, yeah. Or he won’t tell me, anyway. He tried once, but he got a really bad headache and had to take some, like, Advil…”
“Which, I’m going to guess, didn’t do shit to help. It’s not a headache from actual, like, nerves… it’s a conditioning thing.”
“... the fuck is conditioning?”
Jake opens his mouth, closes it again. Then he turns and digs into his backpack, pulling out a worn, wrinkled old bit of printer paper carefully folded into a three-sided brochure. WRU and the companies have the good stuff. Nat just prints this stuff out on her home computer, and Jake and the rescues sit up folding them until they look - mostly - presentable for the public. He slides it across the table, and Alex picks it up, looking it over. There’s an old photo on the front of a woman who died back in the 90’s with two rescues standing in front of her, her hands on their shoulders, everyone smiling. It’s the best picture they have. 
Nobody wants to have their photo printed, not anymore. Not since people started disappearing, sometimes. 
“Read this. It’s got a little bit in it about navigating that stuff. Conditioning is like brainwashing, a little bit. It’s how they teach them to act the way they do. Like… you’ve probably noticed he can’t really say no to any chore you tell him to do, right?”
Alex swallows, hard enough for Jake to notice, and nods. He’s still got the brochure unfolded in his hands, but he looks up slowly, meeting Jake’s eyes. “Yeah. And he never gets mad, either. He just… does whatever we tell him. Even if they, uh, sometimes the others… aren’t super nice to him. And he just… takes it.”
“Right. His nightmares are probably about the reason he just sits there and takes it, Alex. If you push him - if you give him orders he can’t handle, or you tell him to do something that hurts him or he’s terrified of it or, like…” A thought flashes through Jake’s mind, one that’s so dark even he doesn’t think the frat boys would be that kind of evil, and he dismisses it. “... even if you tell him to go jump out a window, or something… he might protest or cry, but if you keep going… he’ll do it. Because, deep down, that’s all he can do anymore. Got that?”
Some of the blood has drained from Alex’s face. “And he has nightmares about, about being… taught? To do whatever we say?”
“Yeah. Look, I’m going to sound fucking crazy, I get it. But… please just trust me. I see rescues - that’s what we call the ones we take care of - every day. They all have nightmares. They all do whatever you tell them to. Some of them do worse than that. I can help you with some exercises, some therapy stuff, that we do to help calm their nightmares down. But I can’t do anything that’ll really, really help, unless you let me talk to him. Or if you get him out of that frat house.”
“I can’t do that. He doesn’t even belong to me, he belongs to all of us.” Alex’s face twists again, but Jake is more focused on the fact that Alex didn’t protest the idea of freeing the boy at all. Only argued that it would be difficult. That Jake could work with. “Technically he belongs to my frat brother, and Cam’s… um.” Alex is silent for a second, and then asks, “What do I do if someone else, like… pushes him in ways he’s not supposed to be? Like… that don’t go along with what he’s, um, what his… category or whatever is?”
“What?” At first, Jake’s confused.
Then he realizes what Alex is actually asking, and feels the anger under his skin all over again. 
Closing his eyes isn’t enough this time. He thinks about the rescues he’s seen come through, all of them used in different, equally horrible ways. All of them absolutely, completely, utterly unable to even begin to refuse it. “Is it just one guy, or are there more?”
He’s surprised to hear his own voice come out soft, and even. He doesn’t even sound angry. Just mildly annoyed.
Underneath that, he’s ready to start throwing punches. This is why he doesn’t talk about this stuff at school - he’s going to miss his classes today, unable to handle it being here, too, when normally he keeps the two halves of his life separate so he can keep himself from burning out too soon. No, he’ll skip class and go straight to the shelter tonight. Get to bed earlier than usual, if the rescues are feeling good. 
“Just one… I think. I mean, I hope just the one. We, uh, we talked about it with him, and I’m sure… I’m sure it won’t happen again.”
“Yeah, it will. Give someone total power over another human life and they’ll go fucknuts destroying it.”
“We’re trying to keep them apart, but… we can’t always be there. Which is why I thought, um, if I could get him to pass for, like, just another person he could maybe just go around with us more and not be in the house when we’re not…” 
“Good start. I’ve got… hold on.” He digs another piece of paper out and lays it out on the table. “This one’s about ways to talk to your rescue about consent. It’s… kind of an awkward conversation and he won’t understand it. But… if you just keep talking, it’ll help him feel better standing up for himself.”
“Why doesn’t he understand cuh-... uh… consent?” Alex’s face was red again. “I mean. He wants… so much attention, and he seems like he’s used to being, like, hugged or kept around people, like he wants it. From Dom and me, at least.”
Jake swallows, trying to decide how much to tell him. How far to take this conversation. He pulls another paper, this one four sheets stapled together front and back, and lays it down on the table, too. “Have you ever been locked in a room without human contact for months on end, except to be hurt? The only good thing they get is dehumanizing shit like that - being petted, or touched against their will. It’s normalized. He doesn’t know he shouldn’t want it, anymore. And he’ll be terrified and upset if you stop.”
Alex looks down at the paper, shaking his head “Do you… do you have a paper for everything?”
“Bet your ass I do. That one’s on training methods. Turn to page two. It’ll answer your question. I have stuff in here to answer all your questions, and I have-... there’s a, uh. A friend of mine… I could bring to talk to you, if you’re interested. A rescue who’s… mostly… better now. He’s our IT guy. He’s been through all the counseling, and he remembers training and all of it. He can tell you what your, uh. What Zee has gone through. Ways to help him break it. But… that’s only if you want. I get that I’m throwing a lot at you. And I get that it probably seems crazy-”
“No, it doesn’t. Really.” Alex leans over, looking at him earnestly, one hand over the papers Jake has set down on the table between them. “Look, before I met Zee, I would maybe have thought… it was all exaggerated, but… but I’ve listened to him when he sleeps. He sounds so… terrified. And he’s so grateful for… everything. Anything nice, literally the smallest nice things… I don’t think you’re crazy, I think… think like, maybe… maybe I need to try and help him get out of our house before I graduate, I just have no idea where to start.”
“I can give you an address,” Jake says, softly.
“Uh… no. I don’t think he’d… want to do that.”
“Not yet. But it’s what a lot of them do, when they’re ready.”
“No, I get that, but I just. Um. I don’t think I’d… want him to be, like, homeless? Just without anybody? That seems really… awful, actually.”
“Does it?” Jake raises an eyebrow. “Does it seem worse than, I don’t know, cleaning frat guy toilets? Or whatever awful shit you’re almost telling me about your frat brother? Does he even have a bed?”
Alex looks back out into the dim basement corner, tapping his fingers on the table. His discomfort is basically a physical weight around him in the air. “No. He, uh. There’s this… closet, or he stays with Dom or me…”
“Yeah. So. Does that seem better than an address where I can guarantee a bed?”
“No… it doesn’t… I guess.” Alex glances down at his coffee, apparently surprised to discover he’s been drinking it the whole time and it’s all gone. He takes the lid off and picks out a piece of ice, crunching it between his teeth. The sound is enormously loud in the quiet, empty space. “I just feel like… we care about Zee. I think I can do better than, um, whatever you’re suggesting. I just… need your help, to do better. He… deserves better.”
“Yeah. He does. They all do.”
Alex takes a deep breath and turns back to him, folding his hands together on the table, looking for all the world like the senator or congressman or whatever he’s planning to maybe one day be. He leans slowly over and looks Jake right in the eyes “I want all your papers from your bag. Just… the whole library. I don’t want to, to send him away. I think he’d… it’d hurt him, so badly. He really likes us, and we… we’re trying. But I want to know how to do better.”
Jake stares right back. He can’t tell if Alex really means it, or not, but he sounds like he means it. Finally, he turns and digs another stack of papers out, maybe a hundred different pages all total. He always keeps some on him, just in case, but nobody ever really asks. He lets the stack fall a couple of inches in front of Alex, watching his eyes widen as he stares.
“There it is,” Jake says. “The whole damn library. All the reading you could ever want on why the pet system is bullshit, what they’re doing to make you think it’s okay, and how to help someone who’s been trapped in it. If you and, uh, your frat brother, or-... or Zee wants to meet with my friend Nine, I can introduce you. Only when you’re ready. I’m on campus Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday basically all day. I can talk to you whenever. My number’s… hold on.” He grabs another piece of paper out and scribbles his number down, hands that over, too. “Call me if you want to talk more, on those three days. The rest of the time I work with the rescues, and I’m not gonna answer my phone unless someone died or you’re my dad.”
Alex nods, and shoves the whole pile of papers into his own backpack, zipping it carefully up. “Thanks. Hey, can I ask you something?”
Jake lets out a sigh. He knows what the question is going to be, too. It’s the same question, every time, and they always save it for the end of the conversation. “Yeah, go for it.”
Alex pauses, then asks, “Is it true you know Vincent Shield?”
Jake huffs a little bitter laughter. They always ask, every single time. 
“Yeah, I do. And he’s a dick.”
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rachelbethhines · 4 years
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Tangled Salt Marathon - One Angry Princess
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There’s two halves to this episode. The first is a well constructed, if over simple, mystery for the kiddos to solve. The other is a failed attempt at being ‘deep’ and ‘mature’.  
Summary: Attila is finally opening up his own bakery, but people generally don't want to stop by because of his scary helmet. The next day, Monty's Sweet Shoppe is destroyed, and Attila is arrested. He is about to be banished from the kingdom, but Rapunzel makes an appeal to investigate the matter further. 
The Episode is Meant to be a Homage to 12 Angry Men, but Misses the Point of the Original Film
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So for those who haven’t seen the movie, (though really you should) 12 Angry Men is about a jury trying to decide if an accused person is guilty of a violent crime. At first the evidence seems clear, but one lone juror refuses to vote guilty until the evidence has been gone over again. One by one he convinces the other men to vote not guilty as they each have to face they’re own personal biases.
Sound familiar? 
In the show Rapunzel is the sole believer in Attila’s innocence despite evidence to the contrary. She insists on investigating herself while challenging everyone else’s personal biases. 
The difference?
12 Angry Men is a hard hitting look at how privilege, prejudice, and cognitive bias can interfere with the American judicial system. None of the jurors are named, but they are all middle class, presumably Christian, white guys. And that is the point. They are all different from the accused; a young, poor, arguably non-white teen (the play is intentionally vague about the kid’s race so that you can slot any minority in there) who has a history of getting into trouble. If you were to change the ethnicity, race, gender, class, or age of any of the 12 characters then you would suddenly have a very different story. It’s their backgrounds and pre-formed opinions that inform their decisions. Even the main protagonist is not exempt from re-examining his own personal biases. 
Meanwhile the writers of Tangled: the Series are too busy showing off how clever Rapunzel is to actually deal with the themes of injustice and bigotry that they added in themselves in the first place.
Rapunzel Knowing Attila Before Hand Weakens the Message
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In 12 Angry Men none of the jurors know the accuse. In fact, they can’t know him. It’s against the law. In order to have an impartial jury, no one can have any ties to either the defendant or the prosecution, and they must not have knowledge of the case or have had specific experiences that might cause them to be biased or unfair. 
Rapunzel being Attila’s friend means that she already has her own bias and an invested interest in making sure Attila goes free. She’s not acting out of the simple goodness of her heart here. She’s doing something that directly benefits herself. 
I don’t expect a children’s fantasy show to recreate the US judicial system with all of the complexities there in, but I do expect it to uphold it’s heroine as the selfless person it claims her to be. Yet the show constantly undermines this supposed character trait by only having her help the people she befriends, and only if that help doesn’t require anything emotionally challenging or mentally taxing from her.   
How much more powerful would this episode be if Rapunzel was defending a stranger or someone she actively disliked? Imagine if it was Monty who was being accuse and Raps had to swallow her pride in order to do what is right. But that would require the show having Rapunzel actually learn something instead of placing her on a pedestal. It would also mean giving Monty a reason to exist rather than keeping him around to be a convenient red herring.      
Rapunzel Shouldn’t Have to Prove Attila’s Innocence 
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Rather than have a courtroom drama the show opts to have a ‘whodunit’ story instead. This unfortunately gives the implication that Corona’s judicial system runs on a ‘guilty until proven innocent’ mantra, which is backwards to any humane legal system. ‘Innocent until proven guilty’, ‘reasonable doubt’, ‘due process’, are the cornerstones of our modern social ethics. 
In 12 Angry Men, we never find out if the accused actually committed the crime or not. That is because his actual innocence isn’t the point of the story. It’s about whether or not the system is working like it should or if it’s being compromised by human error. 
Once again, I don’t expect a recreation of the US judicial system, but if you’re writing a story for a modern audience then you need to reinforce modern morals. Simply crouching Corona’s legal system as ‘of the times’ or ‘fantasy’ while ignoring why we no longer have such systems in place reduces the story to puerile fare. 
It also means that show’s writers didn’t put enough thought into their world building. 
No One Calls Out the Obviously Corrupt System 
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The show has interwoven throughout its ongoing narrative themes of classism, injustice, abuse, and authoritarianism, but then fails to follow through on those themes by not having any of the protagonists actually examine any of these issues. They just sit there in the background, even as the show tries it darndest to present Rapunzel as an arbiter of reform. However a person can’t bring about change if they can’t even admit that there is a problem to begin with.   
In this episode alone we have
Banishment is considered a reasonable punishment for an act of vandalism. A crime that is usually considered only a misdemeanor unless the damage goes over a certain amount. Keep in mind that not even most felonies would be given such a punishment in the real world
Introduces the prison barge that regularly carries away convicts. In the past ‘undesirables’ would be shipped off to prison colonies as a form of persecution. Attila and every other person we see subjected to Corona’s legal system are of a lower class. 
Many prejudge Attila based off his appearance, lower class, and past upbringing. However, it is either Attila who is expected to change or Rapunzel who is expected to win people over. At no point is anyone told that they shouldn’t be prejudiced to begin with. 
There is no judge, jury, or lawyers. The king alone decides the fate of criminals, the Captain is expected to be the both the prosecutor and the ‘executioner’, which is a conflict of interest, and the defendant has no one to represent them unless they so happen to know a kind statesperson. Meaning you have to be either rich or well connected in order to even have a chance to defend yourself. 
Oh and there’s this...
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Uh, yeah you do. You’re the flipping king. You make the law. You’re the one to bring charges against Attila, and nearly every other criminal in the show, in the first place. 
The show constantly wants us to view Frederic as simply an everyman who is only doing his job, but he’s not. He’s a ruler and as such he has powers and responsibilities that no one else has or ever will have. The series gives both him and Rapunzel all of the privileges of being in charge without holding them to account for the consequences of their actions. 
By not pointing out how wrong these actions are, the show winds up avocating them instead. When I call Tangled the Series authoritarian, this is why. Because authority is never questioned even when clearly wrong and nepotism is presented as the solution to conflicts as oppose to being the problem itself.
The Show Introduces Complex Issues but Then Oversimplifies the Conflicts Surrounding Those Issues
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The creators of the show have constantly declared that the series is ‘not for kids’. That they were shooting for an older audience than the pre-school time slot they were given. Now ignoring the fact that Tangled was always going to have a built in audince of pre-teen girls and ignoring that children’s media can be mature, TTS lacks the nuance needed to viewed as anything other than a pantomime. 
As stated before, this episode alone ignores the very real issues interlaced within the conflict in order to give us an overly simple mystery that anyone over the age of five could figure out.  
It’s frustrating to watch the show constantly skirt towards the edge of complexity only to see it chicken out and go for the low hanging fruit instead. As a consequence the series winds up being for no one. Too shallow for adults and older teens, but too confused in its morals to be shown to small children and younger adolescents. 
I wouldn’t recommend this show to a parent, not without encouraging them to view the series either before or alongside their child in order to counteract it’s ‘lessons’ and I know parents within the fandom itself who’ve stopped showing newer episodes to their kids; stating that they want their child to be old enough to point out the harmful messages to before doing so. 
Once Again No One Learns Anything 
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Rapunzel doesn’t learn that the system is flawed. Attila doesn’t learn to open up to people. Nobody learns to treat people with respect and to not judge others based on appearances alone.
The whole point of the episode is to just show off how much ‘better’ Rapunzel is than everyone else. The show constantly feels the need to tear down other characters in an effort to make its favs look good as opposed to just letting the mains grow as people. 
Conclusion
Tangled the tv series is no 12 Angry Men. It’s no Steven Universe/Gravity Falls/Avatar:TLA/She-Ra/Gargoyles/Batman:TAS either. It barely reaches the same level as the likes of DnD, Sonic SATAM, or Voltron. Interesting ideas but poor pacing, build up, and lack of follow through, with some naff decisions thrown into the mix bring things down in quality. And unlike the Dungeons and Dragons cartoon from the early 80s, TTS lacks the benefit of being a pioneer in the field of animation, where such flaws are more forgivable. 
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kimyoonmiauthor · 3 years
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What Harry Potter Got Wrong about Orphans and Adoption.
So, given the TERF that terfed all terfs. And given that I don’t want to profit from a terf... I’m posting this essay I did on Rowling I intended to originally post for a Magazine on how to write adoptees and adoption, but it fell through. Maybe we can learn something?
BTW, written before she went off the deep end of TERFing. Like 2007-ish or earlier. So this was before she went off about Native American Gods. Before she TERFed. And before she did some weird retconning --what I now call a Rowling... BTW, if you’re looking for a roast fest--this isn’t it. Credit to my wonderful voluntary, unpaid, though I tried to pay her Writer’s Assistant for the Harry Potter quotes. I couldn’t have done this essay without her.
The top reason that writers put in adoption or orphans into stories is because they feel that it will simplify the story for them. When I asked two different group of writers, the answer was almost universally the same, they felt that putting in an orphan should simplify the story. This, too, was the case with Harry Potter. JK Rowling explained this in 1999 when she was writing Harry Potter still in a Guardian interview, "...but Harry HAD to be an orphan - so that he's a free agent, with no fear of letting down his parents, disappointing them?" But unlike the previous adoption stories, JK Rowling have a fair amount of adopted persons and orphans, mostly intrafamily adopted.
Harry falls into the writer trap of the closer the blood ties, the less likely there will be attachment problems between child and care giver. This tradition started out with Brothers Grimm who changed many of the parents to step-parents. (The Hard Facts of the Grimms' Fairy Tales, Maria Tatar, p. 36) Also that in abuse, which is frequently associated with adoption, that it will make the orphan free to do what they like. However, this assumption is an error. Children by their nature want to please their caregivers no matter what relation they are. In the case of adding emotional and sometimes physical abuse that Harry endures, it does not free him from trying to please his guardians, the Dursleys. Being an orphan is not the key to being a "free agent" and the idea that adoption, in this case intrafamily adoption could simplify matters is in error. Harry Potter was an orphan left on the doorstep of his Aunt and Uncle's, the Dursleys by the Head Master of Hogwarts. This was after the sudden death of his parents. It is unlikely that the Dursleys would be automatically allowed to raise him and get guardianship, despite what the story says. On the British government website, it says that in order to adopt there has to be legal proceedings.
The steps of this include several visits from a social worker, at least three references with two outside references, preparation classes, a police check, and a full medical examination. They also have to register through an adoption agency and then apply for a court order which can take up to eight months. (https://www.gov.uk/child-adoption/adoption-assessment)
Even in the case where there is a step parent, the assessment still takes place for the family and consent has to be given. (https://www.gov.uk/child-adoption/adopting-a-stepchild)
This means the Potters, by no indication, had a will to give Harry up to the Dursleys, would make a far less likely that Harry would be placed in an abusive home. Add to that the fact that Harry's Aunt has a history of disliking her sister, they made Harry live below the stairs, and neither Mr. or Mrs Dursley have shown throughout the series to have any sort of patience with Harry, and the initial adoption looks even less likely.
Writing that one can be left on a doorstep disenfranchises the entire adoption community and the government who has tried hard to give a second chance to children like Harry. It ignores the parents that waited for those eight months, the feelings of abandonment that can manifest in some adopted people, as well as the care and thought that relinquishing parents may have for their child's welfare. Adoption is not a fictional object such as a dragon--it impacts real people and real lives.
However, this problem also continues because it ignores the fact that by adding two guardians to the story, there are more rather than less characters previously. Adding more characters is more, not less complex. There are Harry's parents, Harry's Aunt and Uncle and by proxy, his Aunt and Uncle's child. This means there were three characters added instead of the original three. This also means for each character there has to be at least a personality and background added for each character, if one is to be fair. This means in total, JK Rowling had to do more work rather than less work because now instead of three characters to work on she has six characters to work on, thus doubling her load.
Often adoption is combined with abuse in fiction and Harry Potter was no different.
Harry was abused emotionally.
“Now, you listen here, boy.” he snarled. “I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured – and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion – asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types – just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end-” Chapter 4 pg 46 (Uncle Vernon)
And he was abused physically through neglect.
"Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age." Chapter 2 Pg20
This continues such that the Dursleys treat Harry as he is not there once Harry gets the upper hand.
"Harry's last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of Harry he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Harry in his cupboard, force him to do anything or shout at him- in fact, they didn't speak to him at all. Half- terrified, half-furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry in it was empty." Chapter 6 pg 67 The idea is that the adoption puts distance between the child and their caretakers, thus they must love them less. But this assumption talks about the amount of love based on title, rather than love is universal despite title, which would be a positive message for children to have--that title does not matter in the amount of love one can give or receive. In fact, this was one message I, personally, did receive from adoption, but I still see the myth continued, especially through fiction that title matters on quantity rather than the type or quality of love.
Abuse of a child, psychological, emotional or neglect does not mean that the child will become a free agent to decide what they want. Often children from such circumstances become overly compliant, withdrawn and passive. They can become hyper vigilant and have learning problems.
(https://www.childwelfare.gov/pubs/factsheets/signs.cfm) This would make Harry, in the case of the systemic and relentless abuse of the Dursleys more dependent and less of a free agent as JK Rowling intended.
Despite this, credit does have to be given to Ms. Rowling in fixing the adoption issues in the last book of the series, though this does not completely turn the tide for the other six books. This most likely came about because Voldemort, the top villain of the book was also described as an orphan. So along with Voldemort, Ms. Rowling added Amy Benson, Dennis Bishop, Ted Lupin, Billy Stubbs, an unnamed Orphan and Eric Whaley. (http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Category:Orphans) Only Ted Lupin is fleshed out and talked about as having a happy intrafamily relationship, which is only reflected on by Harry at the end of the seventh Harry Potter book. This would make it pass the more than one orphan and the polarized orphan syndrome, but just barely and maybe barely doesn't really count if dropped in at the last minute.
This makes Harry the principal character with which adoption ideas are drawn from with the second character being Neville Longbottom, whose grandmother is very strict with him, which undermines his self-confidence initially. This makes both adopted people in the book someone to pity and built on false assumptions of how adoption works.
Neither character are really given a chance to show what a loving, supportive family would be like, which may actually make Harry more, rather than less of a free agent as JK Rowling initially stated. Harry's confidence would boost which would give him the power, as shown in the books, to try new things, dare to rise up and be more consistent for his character development. There would be less characters overall that would have to be mentioned.
This series does manage to avoid many of the traps of writing orphans, but only achieves this at the very last book in a sweeping last minute save, which is worth noting, however, that means that for the span the books were written the titular character of Harry and eventually Neville's home life influenced how orphans were viewed.
This goes to show that not only does adoption complicate the plot with the addition of characters, but it also does not make any character more or less of a free agent to do what they want when they want it. They are still beholden to their parents, alive or dead. And that abuse has nothing to do with adoption, so should not be combined as an excuse, especially if one wants to make the child free to make healthy decisions for themselves. *** Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept. Chapter 2 pg20Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. Chapter 2 Pg20
The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn't there – or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug. Chapter 2 pg 22Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-coloured bobble hats – but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large, blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a roundabout at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house,too. Chapter 2 pg.19
“I'm warning you,” he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, “I'm warning you now, boy – any funny business, anything at all – and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas.” Chapter 2 pg.23 ( Uncle Vernon)
Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn't know what time it was and he couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food. Chapter 2 pg27
“Get the post, Dudley,” said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper. “Make Harry get it.” “Get the post, Harry.” “Make Dudley get it.” “Poke him with your Smeltings stick, Dudley.” Chapter 3 Pgs 29-30
“I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?” Chapter 3 pg 31 (Uncle Vernon)
Of course, his birthdays were never exactly fun – last year, the Dursleys had given a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. Chapter 3 pg 36 ( Harry Potter)
“Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as – as- abnormal – and then,, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!” (Aunt Petunia)
Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, “Blown up? You old me they died in a car crash!” Chapter 4 pg. 44
“Now, you listen here, boy.” he snarled. “I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured – and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion – asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types – just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end-” Chapter 4 pg 46
(Uncle Vernon)Harry's last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of Harry he wouldn't' stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Harry in his cupboard, force him to do anything or shout at him- in fact, they didn't speak to him at all. Half- terrified, half-furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry in it was empty. Chapter 6 pg 67
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Deals with the Devil- 11
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Author: Amanda Preston
Summary: A need to fill a void and an encounter to start something new, Elijah and Katya never knew that a simple one night stand would wind up into a love affair filled with family drama and side deals gone wrong.
Deals with the Devil Masterlist        
        “Where’s the fire and how do I put it out?” Marcel greets as he enters the conference room. He was dressed as handsomely as ever and caught a few admiring looks from a few editors as he walked by the cubicles.         
       Katya couldn’t help but laugh at him having grown accustomed to his dramatic entrances and the lingering stares in his wake. 
        “I really need to destroy that knight-in-shining-armor mentality you have when it comes to me,” Katya responds. “I think it’s going to your head.” 
        Marcel just shrugs as he settles down into his seat. 
        “Where’s D?” he asks as he looks around the vacant room. “Thought she’ll be here.” 
        “She’s getting her sketchbook,” Katya answers. “I told her she’ll need it.” 
        “You’re finally getting her off the bench,” Marcel notes with a grin. “That’s good.” 
        “The girl deserves it,” Katya tells him. “Plan on hiring her the moment she graduates.” 
        The conversation comes to stop as Davina enters the conference with her tablet and sketchpad. The excitement of the unknown task ahead very evident on her face. 
        “Ok let’s get started,” Katya states as Davina takes the seat next to Marcel. “I’ve gathered all of you here today because Vikings Co. has decided to dump a very big and important project on MoonStone: Online Publishing.” 
        “Understood,” Marcel responds. “But why am I here for it?” 
        “Because I need your networking skills to get me the best of the best when it comes to Web Design,” Katya answers. “I need a web guy.” 
        “You already have one of those.” 
        “I have an IT guy which is a completely different playing field,” Katya clarifies. “I need a web expert that has experience from design to coding.” 
        “Alright,” Marcel acknowledges as he pulls out his blackberry and starts to scroll through it. “I can put out some feelers and see who reaches back.” 
        “Oh, I… I think I know of someone,” Davina speaks up. 
        “Who?” Katya asks. 
        “He’s a friend,” Davina answers gaining a bit more confidence. “His name is Josh and he used to be the TA in one of my classes.” 
        “Used to be?” 
        Davina’s nerves come back at the question and shrugs. 
        “I mean… he hacked into our school system and got asked to depart on his own account,” Davina explains. “But I swear, it was for a good reason.” 
        Katya couldn’t help but share a look with Marcel who just shared her amusement. 
        “And what was this reason?” 
        “A student identified as non-binary but the school refused to change the gender specification on their transcript. Josh did so easily but he got caught.” 
        “And what is this Josh up to right now?” 
        “He’s bartending,” Davina states. “But he was just shy away from graduating, at the top of his class too, and I promise he’ll be on his best behavior. That is… if you give him a chance.” 
        Katya can’t help but share a look with Marcel again. They were both enamored with the headstrong girl and it was hard to resist her request. 
        “Alright,” Katya gives in. “Let me meet him for myself and if he fits the MoonStone mentality then we’ll go on a week trial to see if he can keep up to our standards.” 
        Davina tries to calm her excitement but it was evident through her smile. 
        “Ok, I’ll reach out to him,” Davina answers. “I promise he won’t let you down.” 
        Katya chuckles at the girl’s promise and nods. 
        “Onto the next order of business,” Katya states. “I have no idea what the next step for this is so I was hoping someone might clue me in?” 
        Marcel chuckles and nods. 
        “I can do some research on the legal side of online publishing but that’s about it,” Marcel offers. “I could probably start on some patents for the name MoonStone and it’s affiliation with Viking Co. but it seems to me that as long as you don’t have your web engineer, then you’re stuck.” 
        Katya sighs and nods. 
        “Yeah… that was what I was afraid of.” 
        “I can start making some mock-up designs for the website?” Davina offers up. “I just need some insight as to what direction you want me to take.” 
        Katya nods at Davina’s offer as her drive returns once more. 
        “Alright, well… I was thinking we keep to our origins,” Katya states. “Our colors, our logos, our language. This is still MoonStone so we have to represent ourselves online as we are in person.” 
        Davina takes in the notes and is quick to start sketching out ideas. Katya’s mind roams free as her creativity flows endlessly. Marcel remained silent as he watched two of his close friends glow beautifully as their passions took over them. 
*
        The business day was already done but Elijah remained in his office working. Gia had bid him goodbye a while ago but he couldn’t recall how long ago that was. Elijah ignored the glaring clock on his desk and continued to read through his paperwork allowing that to fill up his time and mind. 
        A soft knock breaks him from his concentration and he looks up to find an unexpected guest. 
        “Mother?” 
        “Hello, son,” she answers as she steps into his office. She looks around the space analyzing the decor and ambiance before her focus returns to Elijah. “Like what you’ve done with the office.” 
        Elijah finds himself fixing his tie as his mother’s stare landed upon him. 
        “Thank you,” he answers. “How did you find me here?” 
        “Oh, I called your assistant,” she states as she takes her seat across from him. “She told me you were still at the office.” 
        Esther removes her gloves and tucks them into her designer purse. She doesn’t smile nor does she frown as she picks her next words. 
        “Nice girl, your assistant,” she comments. “Wonder why such a thing would put me on hold all day when I’ve been trying to reach you?” 
        Elijah refrains from sighing knowing the hidden accusation from his mother’s words. 
        “Mother, I…” 
        “No, need to explain,” Esther cuts him off. “Children grow up. They don’t need their mother’s looking over them.” 
        Elijah knew there was no excuse he could use to appease her. She would hold this betrayal over his head before she found another source of power. 
        “What can I do for you?” 
        Esther takes her time to respond even though Elijah already knew what she was here for. Her eyes stray to the window behind Elijah that illuminated the other buildings around Viking Co. She hums pensively before looking back at him. 
        Even though they were both seated at equal height, Elijah couldn’t help but feel like he was being looked down upon. 
        “I assume Niklaus came to speak to you on my behalf,” Esther states. “He came by the house for a quick moment before disappearing again.” 
        “Yes,” Elijah answers. “He paid me a visit. Told me that something was going on with Kol.” 
        “That boy,” Esther sighs out. “I’ve done everything I can for him and he remains ungrateful. He’s gotten kicked out of Stanford for selling answer sheets. He did the same thing at UCLA and now he refuses to go to Yale after I made a very impressive donation. I told him I could get him into whatever school he wants but he refuses to go back. I’m at my last wits which is why I need your help.” 
        “I can try to speak to him…” Elijah starts to offer but his mother is quick to interrupt him. 
        “Oh, dear, noble Elijah,” his mother responds. “Speaking to him won’t help him much. Kol needs structure. The kind of structure you gained when you came to work with your father when he ran the company. I need you to give him that and perhaps that will stick.” 
        Elijah was at a loss of words. 
        Kol was a hurricane of a person. He created disorder wherever he went. There was no stopping him. 
        A characteristic that came from their very stubborn mother. 
        “He needs this, Elijah,” his mother pleads. 
        Those words were the final nails to his coffin as Elijah had no other choice but to agree. 
        “I’ll take him under my wing,” Elijah reluctantly states. 
        “Good, I thought you would,” Esther praises as she starts to pick up her things to depart. Now that she had achieved her goal there was no reason for her to stay any longer. She slides her gloves back on and stares down at her son as she rises from her seat. 
        He looked tired. A little worn out. Too much work and not enough life could do that to you. 
        A soft gaze crosses her face at the thought but she’s quick to diminish it. 
        “You work too much,” she comments with a scowl. “Perhaps that’s why Katerina left you. Such a good girl, that one. Very well connected, good genes… Should have tied her down when you had the chance.” 
        Elijah doesn’t respond not knowing that the truth would only serve as ammunition to his mother to shift or change him into what she wants him to be. 
        “We weren’t a good match.” 
        “Hmm,” Esther hums as she turns to leave. She stops by the door and lets out a sigh. “Gia, your assistant, she’s a pretty one. It’s cliche to marry the secretary, I know, but the girl’s got potential.”
        “Mother…” Elijah sighs out. 
        “Alright,” she mutters. “I’ll stop… for now.” 
        The threat lingered in the air as she left leaving Elijah drained at the potential future meddling fro his mother. It didn’t help that his mind was soon occupied to the incoming presence of his brother Kol. 
        The workday had certainly grown longer in the span of five minutes.
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sandracarroll · 4 years
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                                  A  L  L  I  S  O  N     C  L  O  V  E  R                                  S  A  N  D  R  A     C  A  R  R  O  L  L .                   twenty-two                             teamaker.                                 chicago, il.                     psychedelics/coke dealer.                   tramp.                   dropped angel.
cw: maternal death, sexual coercion, frequent drug mentions.
“SANDY CARROLL” --- formerly known as allison clover --- grew up in the underbelly of chicago, raised by a fatally over-protective single mother, who tried to shield her daughter from the grit and grime that covered every square inch of their community.
as a child, allison was kept busy at all costs, distracted by a wallpapering of catholicism from the influence of her peers and the sordid history of her family. she was brought up in the church; she socialized primarily within the church’s community, she played on the church’s softball team, she participated in the church’s charity events and she helped organize the church’s fundraisers.
the clovers ran an online business selling homemade incense, candles, and teabags from herbs and spices grown right in their apartment. it was just enough to help keep the lights on when her mother’s job at the plant nursery couldn’t cut it. this is to say: a young, naive allison wouldn’t have much in realm of inheritance when she would need it.
shortly after ally’s 18th birthday, her mother was killed in an assault.
gang initiation. body mutilated. her teenage daughter had to identify the corpse.
the tragedy shattered allison’s eden. she woke up to the nihilistic nature of the world, in which good people can die with no rhyme or reason. it showed her the true nature of the modern christian and their shortcomings in practicing what they preach. in the wake of ms. clover, the church community offered allison their prayers and platitudes, but no one in their impoverished community had a dime to spare or room on their couches when allison needed a place to stay. every bystander assumed someone else would step up to take care of her.
emotionally distraught and disappointed in her paper thin support system, ally stopped sticking around after mass and isolated herself from the community, eventually opting not to attend altogether.
the scraps of wealth she had left after paying for a catholic funeral would not help her afford the rent. her underwhelming resume would not be enough to get her a job to support herself. with too much grief to handle working two minimum-wage gigs--- with her mother deeply estranged from the rest of their family--- with her long history of being isolated from her neighbors--- she had nowhere to turn when she was evicted.
her naivete and lack of options paved allison’s way to falling in with a bad crowd. her first night at a local shelter, she was recognized outside by a shaggy boy from her graduating class. immediately trusting, she opened up to him about her situation and vulnerability, and he was all too quick to offer her a place to stay until she got back on her feet. she never stopped to question his character or intentions.
she was fast to fall in with the boy and his band of delinquents, which she would later understand to be a gang deeply involved in several webs of drug trafficking in the city. her sheltered upbringing left her unprepared to notice red flags, and her gullibility made it easy for the kids to take advantage of her on the grounds of offering her bedrooms to stay in and spotting her meals in her hard time. when offerings of basic human necessities turned into talking her into smoking with them and bringing her along to parties, it wasn’t hard for them to pressure her into using her inexperienced body to show appreciation for their hospitality.
catholic guilt went head-to-head with disillusioned catholic angst, both raging inside her head with feelings of physical violation she didn’t have the wisdom to identify. in the midst of the chaos, she developed a taste for the escapism. she preferred to live in the haze of inebriation and work out her conflicts of spirituality with mushrooms rather than face her situation or her grief. but she didn’t realize she was running up a tab with her friends.
from a peer’s perspective, she picked up on their culture fast. learned the slang and the technique. gave off the impression of someone who knew what she was getting into when they started sending her to drop off and pick up at college campuses, and when she was smoking herself into debts she’d never be able to repay.
after ignoring the scarier and grittier aspects of the new friends she’d made for a year, and then upsetting them when she started avoiding sex— depriving her friends of their payment— things came to a head after a traumatic trip on DMT, a vision of her disappointed mother sent her into a serious crisis of faith and a fear that her sins were becoming unforgivable, which prompted her choice to branch out to people other than the dealers she was wasting her youth with.
when the ghouls started getting insulted by her pulling away, one of her lovers let her know that she still owed them for all that they had provided for her, and when she stood her ground and put a lock on what they wanted, he told her she owed them at least $4,000 for their troubles before they would let her scurry away.
in a cold sweat for finding that kind of money in the near future and feeling a serious threat to her safety at the mercy of a gang, she opted instead to commit one last sin in the form of stealing a suitcase and backpack of drugs from the trap house and taking a bus as far out of illinois as she could go.
she started going by the new name SANDRA CARROLL, and planned to keep moving and sell the stash of psychedelics to keep her afloat until she could start using her legal name again and get a law-abiding job. she tried to go to hipster bars and college parties, looking for less dangerous people to pick her up as a sugar baby and give her a couch to sleep on until she was far enough and emotionally stable enough to take care of herself. 
the panic attacks and paranoia made it hard for her to nail a trustworthy hookup, but she found a way to survive by couch surfing at a state university in kentucky. the low threat level and high libido of clients on a college campus makes it easier for sandra to deal, especially to inexperienced freshmen who were too insecure about playing it cool to ask questions when she hiked up her selling prices. it was a perfect environment hustle free food and beds to sleep in, and she could have stayed afloat there for long enough to let her trail run cold, find a new social circle, and eventually even heal. 
that is, until she spotted one of the gang members looking for her at a party.
sandy wound up packing up her things that night to flee to a remote place she’d heard about, in the countryside of north carolina, serene and inexpensive, far away from signals or surveillance, in a quaint little camp town called wrenbury.
(( TL;DR: sheltered church girl is ill-prepared and too naive to survive on her own when her mother dies unexpectedly; she falls in with a gang and loses control of her expenses and her body; steals an enormous stash of cocaine and psychedelic drugs and flees chicago, going by a false name and dealing to stay just barely afloat. spent the last year dorm-surfing on a college campus before coming to wrenbury. lives in fear of her ex and his gang who are still looking for her. haunted by the specter of her mother, imagining she is devastated to see how far her harlot daughter has fallen from grace. ))
                                  > PERSONALITY / FAST FACTS.
pleasant. gentle. hazy. airy. strange. erratic. passive. flighty. compassionate, but unreliable.
the usual refrain you’ll hear is, “SHE’S NOT ‘ALL THERE.’”  sandra mostly comes across as dreamy or dazed out. you might assume that extreme levels of stress and substance abuse have fried her brain, and she might agree with you, but don’t be so sure. there is a part of her that prefers to buy into that story and assure herself that she’s too disconnected with reality to process it. and she’s willing to stay as high as a hot air balloon to make it convincing. 
she zones in and out during conversation, absent-mindedly wanders into places she shouldn’t be while lost in thought, and tends to lose track of time or forget important things, like curfews or notices of restricted areas. she has a mind that can muse a mile a minute, and she tries to keep it busy with innocuous thought tangents about what type of flower a person would be, rather than focusing to what the person tells her about the latest murder, for fear of ruining her vibes and falling into a panicked spiral.
she grows flowers, spices, and herbal plants all over her cabin, taking advantage of the rustic life to relive her childhood of making homemade teas and incense. she has yet to ask if marnie and regina mind all of the aromas and dirt she brings into their common area.
she views sex as something that’s casually transactional. might get confused or even suspicious if you do her a favor without accepting a lay in return.
wrenbury and its glitching borders have fanned the flame of her lack of faith in her own sanity, and made her unsure of what to believe with regards to the killers. she tries to take the word of the townspeople over her fellow campers.
the kind of person who you might see sway-dancing like a twin peaks character, stopping in her tracks to stare at a caterpillar on a tree trunk, sticking her hand out of a moving car’s window and surfing it in the breeze, or praying only when she thinks no one’s looking---and if you look close, you might catch a tear streaming down her face while she does so.
she still has a trace of purity to her that most people don’t pick up on until they outright find out about her religious upbringing. she comes off as an eccentric wallflower sitting in a circle with the stoners at a party; not unfriendly, but not the person to start the conversation; doesn’t instigate the orgy but she certainly keeps up. innocent but not inexperienced. very good at maintaining lucidity just long enough to escape any witnesses when she’s having a bad trip.
some sandy carroll pinterest boards created by myself and my friends: (i), (ii), (iii), (iv). 
                                      > WANTED CONNECTIONS.
friends, especially people with easygoing personalities. someone who can make her feel comfortable enough to have more sober conversations. people who buy from her (she’s currently carrying cocaine, ecstasy, and acid). enemies (could be on the grounds of sandy being twee, inconsiderate, or a liability). a disinterested person for her to have a crush on even though they wouldn’t notice if she was hacked up by one of the killers. a kinder person with a crush on her that she’ll never pick up on. 
hookups~ sandy is pansexual and doesn’t realize that she’s been traumatized by years of sexual coercion, so she consents to a lot of bad ideas, and is still conditioned into the mindset that it’s something you use to pay gratitude to people for being nice to you. 
someone she met from the college she was squatting at, especially if they’re a hippie who brought up wrenbury when they were having a stoned dorm room conversation about wanting to move off the grid.
someone, either from or hired by the gang, who was sent to track her down and collect her debt and is now trapped in wrenbury with her  👀 :GRIM_REAPER_EMOJI:
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Anonymous said: Hi ily💓
I love you too! There is love in my heart and you may take some
Anonymous said: Hey hey hey Amesssss!!! what was the first fic you ever wrote?
Well. Technically the first written piece was a play I wrote at around 13? It was about all of the characters from the Percy Jackson series watching Disney’s Hercules together
My first bat fic was this one, back in I want to say 2014
Anonymous said: You are a snack . So cute ❤❤❤❤
[Lizzo voice] baby I’m the whole damn meal 
Anonymous said: You may’ve done badly but you looked fine as heck doing it. (I’m aroace—I’m not hitting on you, I promise). Besides, everybody has off days. Even lawyers.
akhfasufgdlfeas I appreciate the clarification <3
Anonymous said: For my summer job I went through a lawyer’s disaster of an office and let me tell you. 90% of it was Westlaw printouts. Those things are the effing best. They tell you what’s going on, they give you the info you need, they’re not weirdly complicated and hard to find—Westlaw. It may be prohibitively expensive and a symptom of the flaws in our legal system, but by golly it’s the best option.
When you hit that “forms” button......... the magic....... the beauty.....
andromeda270 said: My legal research class got us two free weeks of westlaw(I’m still in college) and when I didn’t finish a paper I made a free trial for the wrong site but they emailed me anyway asking if I was interested in buying and could they talk over the phone. I fessed up and they gave me another free week to work on a paper for some class
That’s how they get you!!!!
collidinglegends said: Lexis is shinier, WestLaw is better
Amen babe
Anonymous said: Please sleep
Who’s got the time
Anonymous said: hi !! quick question . I’ve followed you for a while and i think i asked you this previously but im not sure... do you write Duke ?? would you be comfortable writing him if i sent in a prompt including others in the fam ?
Sure, if I like the prompt. I write Duke every once in awhile, although I wouldn’t say I’m confident doing it. He’s a fairly new character and I stopped reading weeklys about the time I hit law school three years ago
Anonymous said: Hope you feel better soon... I'll pray for you
Ah thank you friend I appreciate you
areverieofchaosdreams said: I'm probably pretty late to this cause I'm not great at time, but your thing is making All the Feelings tm. But in a good way. You and dapanda were the first batfam blogs I ever followed, and it's been a helluva ride. Your way of writing things just pulls me in a way that few do, so thank you. :)
A single tear falls from my lashes, followed by several more because I cry a lot 
hades-in-a-handbag said: Your thing is being the embodiment of goth mom energy Don't know if it's just your literal handle or what but you're so encouraging and motherly and also dark and emotionally scaring with your writing. Very sweet, very spooky
goth mom energy 
Anonymous said: Omgggg ames, ginny is so grown up!!!!!
She is! She’s a teenager 
morallyunequivocal said: not a prompt but oh no i just made myself sad with that last ask
that’s a mood
Anonymous said: You make plushies? Wtf, how did you get to be so talented and adorable at so many things. You’re amazing and I hope law school goes well.
Oh you’re so so sweet
Anonymous said: What law school things have you learned that you could see the bat family deals by with?
Well, I’ve had to take classes about forming and maintaining businesses, finding tax loopholes, writing and litigating contracts, and real property. Those are all things that WE would deal with on the regular. I also took classes on juvenile and adult criminal law, evidence, and police misconduct, which all seem Bat-relevant. At this exact moment I’m taking family law, which would include adoptions, and I have in the past taken classes about trusts and estates.
Anonymous said: Noooooooo no nono 🙏🙏🙏 dont ignore her 💔
Bad kittens get ignored instead of cuddled
crayolapumpkins said: hope the printing isn't too boring !! + I'm loving the fics , your work is always *chef's kiss* !! thank u for ur hard work ✨✨✨
[heart eyes]
Anonymous said: Since you have a big brother and a tiny sister, with that huge gap, what do you feel when you see those Dick & Damian fics or headcanons where Dick sees Damian as both a brother and a son? I know it's kind of canon now, but fandom has even gone as far as having Dick adopt Damian in various situations. Their age gap and their positions in the family allows for that kind of dynamic and I know it's reality for a lot of people too. But what's Your opinions on this? And maybe your brother's?
Huh, that’s a good question. My littlest brother and I are ten years apart, and Dave will tell you flat out I’m his favorite sibling because when I’m home we do everything together. I think the thing those fics are collectively missing is that there doesn’t need to be a brother/father hybrid because the role of Older Sibling With Age Gap is already its own distinct thing. 
Dave and I don’t have the same dynamic as the kids I actively grew up with. We had very limited contact during his growing up years, because I was off at school. Now that he’s a teenager, we communicate like adults but with the caveat that I am In Charge. I dictate the agenda, and I make the decisions unless I choose to delegate them. 
I’ve indulged a request about an adoption before, but I don’t really like that idea very much. Like I said, I don’t feel the need to add “father” into a dynamic that already exists on its own. 
hollyhock13 said: Listen. You’re a middle kid, but not the middle middle kid. You’re towards the older end, but not the oldest. Maybe second or third, depending on how many siblings you have
Correct!
Anonymous said: That is the coolest blanket I've ever seen!!
Isn’t it just 
Anonymous said: We're having a big adoption event tomorrow in Houston and we sent all the animals in our shelter down there. Our supervisors are in Houston too so us few kennel techs left at the shelter are scrubbing the place from top to bottom. We have music playing on the loud speaker and just ordered pizza. It's a great day. :)
:D
Anonymous said: Pls continue the Tim and hallucination Damian thing im on edge
Anonymous said: Bls bls bls continue the tim hallucinating dami fic, bc its killing me in the best way. My heart. It hurts. That shit hurted.
maybe
Anonymous said: Ames, thoughts on the new joker movie?
I haven’t seen it, although I probably will when I get the time
Anonymous said: Idk if this is a secret, more like a guilty confession. I really, REALLY hope Damian turns out asexual, or at least romantically unattached. I LOVE that most of his good interactions are with his vaious Bat siblings, Jon, Maps and his pets. Everyone loves shopping him with varuova characters and it makes me hesitate to share my opinion incase I'm looked at weirdly. But having a character I look up to be asexual would be amazing.
I would really like that too anon
Anonymous said: what do you think about Drake & his new outfit?
ugly
Anonymous said: Alfred Pennyworth is the baddest bitch
You are not incorrect
bruciewayneisbatman said: Amy and Kenza are the bittersweet queens of this fandom. The both of you are absolutely evil and tooth-rotting sweet at the same time. I love you two for that, btw.
<3 thanks Esther 
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gffa · 5 years
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Master and Apprentice | by Claudia Gray OKAY, HERE’S WHY I KEEP YELLING ABOUT QUI-GON AND HIS AMAZING HYPOCRISY.  It’s not just this, there are a bunch of ways (most notably, he completely misjudges the Jedi Council, thinks the worst of them, they hate everything he says, they only want people who agree with them, who lick their boots!, then five minutes later they’re offering him a position on the Council specifically FOR his diverging viewpoints, because they value that, and he STILL refuses to re-evaluate his opinion, STILL refuses to trust them or work with them) but this is really the heart of it. Qui-Gon believes it’s immoral to do nothing about slavery and he is absolutely right about that.  Where he becomes a hypocrite about it is that he believes the Jedi should just go ahead and do whatever they want, they should impose their will on other beings.  He grudgingly admits that human morals are not always the same for other species, but insists that slavery is not one of those things.  Again, he’s still sort of right, except he’s ignoring that just making people do what you want them to do, instead of going through a democratic process, IS WHAT FASCISM IS.  He still wants to just go ahead and go rogue and do whatever they want and his intentions are incredibly well-meant, but he acknowledges nothing of what consequences that would bring. He acknowledges nothing about how the Jedi are in the same exact position he’s in--there is one Jedi for every 7 to 20 billion beings in the galaxy.  If one Jedi isn’t enough to go free the slaves on Pijal by himself--something Qui-Gon never even considers doing--then the Jedi going up against the rest of the galaxy (and, make no mistake, with how clearly canon has established that people fear the Jedi’s inherent abilities, they would absolutely band together and kill the Jedi if they went rogue, the only reason they’re not in the same position as the X-Men is because they realized oversight and accountability goes a long fuckin’ way with people) would be in an even worse position.  But he never acknowledges this, nor does he include himself in being immoral for this.  No, only the Jedi are immoral for doing exactly what Qui-Gon himself does in an situation that is perfectly analogous.  Sure. Where it gets absolutely INCREDIBLE, though, is that he wins the day and even frees the slaves through his connection to the Republic, through the use of Republic law and might.  Why do they have a Republic?  FOR THIS MOMENT RIGHT FUCKING HERE.  Obi-Wan being an official representative of the Republic (after Qui-Gon is relieved of it for fucking it up) is what allows them to free the slaves.  If the Jedi had gone Qui-Gon’s way, this happy ending for the slaves wouldn’t be here. Does he recognize this?  Does he even acknowledge that being part of the Republic is what gives them the authority to do EXACTLY what he did?  That if they went rogue, they wouldn’t be able to do this? Nope. Nor does he acknowledge that Rael Averross is on the planet, in the position he is, specifically because the Jedi worked with the Republic and worked within the system.  The reason this got fucked up is because Rael fell prey to some nasty attachment issues--and, frankly, proved the Jedi’s point in a rather startlingly undeniable way, that he nearly fucked over A THIRD OF THE POPULATION, because he was focused on Fanry only--but if someone who had their shit together was there?  THEY COULD HAVE PREVENTED A WHOLE LOT OF SLAVES.  Yoda even says it, we have to get that treaty changed, because that’s bad news. They are helping people and Qui-Gon refuses to acknowledge it, because it’s not how he wants to do it.  aka, going in there with lightsaber blazing, damning the wars and deaths--because, let’s also be clear, the second you go in there with force, rather than with legal authority and the law on your side, it’s the slaves who are the hostages in this situation, it’s the slaves who are going to die first, as well as it would have started a war with the entire Republic over the whole thing. It also makes this moment incredibly hypocritical:
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He could go free those slaves.  He could just lightsaber Watto in half, take Shmi and Anakin and rather easily (at least as easily as the Jedi could just go do what they wanted in the same way, probably far more so) free the rest of them on Tatooine.  Yet, he doesn’t.  Why? Because he has to know, even if he doesn’t want to admit it, that it wouldn’t actually address the underlying problem, it would only result in more deaths of the people who are already the victims here, and it would fuck over all the other people on Naboo who are dying because they’re here.  That is exactly the same position the Jedi are in and it’s an understandable one. You cannot change this situation with leeroy jenkinsing it, because it will only resurface (and get a shitload of people killed along the way).  You have to try to change it within the system, you have to work to better the system, you have to keep trying even when it seems hard, because NOTHING WILL EVER LAST unless the system (and the general public) backs you up on this, that is the only way to get things to crawl forward to a better future. And also let’s be real fuckin’ clear about getting involved with politics--do I think the Jedi should have leaned in harder?  Yeah, of course.  Literally EVERY PERSON IN THE REPUBLIC should be held to that standard!  But the Jedi are not the political power house that we want to think, their influence is tiny in comparison, especially once the war happens and they’re busy putting out twenty tire fires a day and, you know, DYING EN MASSE for a people who don’t want to fight themselves.  We do see them trying to advise, to push for better options--and we see Palpatine consistently shutting them down every time they try! This is also why I think it’s a good idea to read Queen’s Shadow at the same time, as one of the major subplots is basically all about Padme trying to make effective change AS A POLITICIAN, WHERE THIS IS HER FULL TIME JOB and it’s incredibly difficult.  Imagine not even having a fraction of the political clout she did and still fighting the same exact uphill battles! Of course it should (and is) being done, slavery is abhorrent and it’s on the public to hold their governments responsible to enact meaningful change.  But I have no patience for those who put forth empty rhetoric over actually offering viable real solutions, not just “Someone should do something!”  Like, wow, yes, thank you for that insight, now would you care to share with the class specifically how that could be done without getting everyone killed? Nor do I have patience for people who criticize methods that are getting actual results and hold themselves to be The Only Moral One Here while not actually offering anything new of substance to the problem that would actually work.
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--Queen’s Shadow, by E.K. Johnston You work with the system (and, in the Jedi’s case, step TWICE AS CAREFULLY, because, hey, guess what, if you seem like you’re getting TOO much power, they’ll literally stand and watch as your Temple burns and your babies are murdered, that’s how little they trust you, how much they fear you, how much they’re just waiting for you to abuse your power, because they don’t understand your connection to a Force that they can’t feel, that it’s not as straightforward as Qui-Gon wants it to be, it’s a hell of a lot more complicated) because that’s how you have any kind of ability to hold people to decent fucking behavior. It’s like in The Last Jedi where Luke tells Rey that, oh, the Jedi would just say let the attacks happen to the native people.  When, no, what they actually did was align themselves with the only reasonable government around (THE OTHER OPTIONS WERE WORSE, LET’S KEEP THAT IN MIND) so they had the ability to say, “If you try this shit again, we have legal authority and the weight of the Republic behind us, to come after you if you come back.” And that’s what saved the day in this book.  Obi-Wan being the Republic’s representative, the weight of the Republic behind them, the law being used in a good and moral way because the Jedi worked to get everything into the right place so that this could have a real happy(-ish) ending, is what let those slaves go free. Qui-Gon wants the Jedi to go be hippies on backwater planets to connect to the Living Force, but he also wants them to be involved in politics and push harder for democratic reform (WHICH WE SEE THEM DOING BASICALLY IN THIS BOOK) and make the laws, like, that whole thing is absolute mess with no clear direction of what he wants, other than that he wants to be able to whatever he wants whenever he wants and not wanting to face the consequences himself for it, but make others face those consequences.  You could leave and do exactly what you’re proposing, Qui-Gon Jinn, but you don’t.  And you know why you don’t. To be clear, in closing, Qui-Gon is not even remotely a bad person, he cares deeply and I wouldn’t have a problem with his point of view if he weren’t judging others for it (a thing that is a theme throughout this book, he gets real judgy sometimes) or maybe if he actually stuck to his own beliefs.  He’s coming from a place of deep care, but he is not self-examining on the level he needs to and instead projecting that blame outwards, instead of actually doing something about it.
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berniesrevolution · 5 years
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You have lived in the U.S. for 30 years. You’re speeding a little to get to work when you’re pulled over. First they realize you have no license. Then they realize you have no papers. You get thrown in jail. You need your wife, a U.S. citizen, to gather documents for you. But she is undergoing chemotherapy and her memory isn’t working right. After a few weeks, her phone number goes dead. Is she in intensive care? Was she evicted? You don’t know. You are trapped in prison and have no one else to call. You explain the situation to the judge and he gives you a few extensions. Then, finally, he says his hands are tied. You’ve presented him with no evidence. You are deported back to a country you haven’t seen since you were 10. You still don’t know if your wife is alive or dead.
You work in a factory where the boss won’t turn on the heat in the wintertime, where you aren’t allowed to use the bathroom, where you get paid less than the documented workers for the same labor. You and your colleagues take a list of complaints to your boss’s office one day. He greets you with a loaded gun. You are afraid to complain again after that. Then a SWAT team raids the factory and rounds you all up. You have young U.S. citizen children, so they don’t want to deport you immediately, because your children would become burdens on the state. But every day from now on, immigration is watching you. When they call you on the phone, you must answer. When they summon you to see them, you must go. Every few years, they slap an ankle monitor on you, and then take it off again, and then put it back on you, without explanation. Every so often, they threaten to make you buy plane tickets. They tell you they can deport you whenever they want. They have already deported several of your former coworkers who are in the same situation. You are always one slip-up away from being ripped away from your family. You can’t sleep at night. When you try to picture your future, all you see is a blind fog.
When we talk about enforcing immigration laws, it’s important to be quite specific about what we mean. Immigration enforcement is not words on paper. It is a constant, daily sequence of concrete acts. It is kicking down people’s doors, it is putting people in handcuffs, it is taking people’s photographs and fingerprints, it is locking people in cages, it is forcing people into cars and buses and planes. Some of these acts happen at the border, when the government tries to block people from entering. Some of them happen inside the country, when the government hunts down those with irregular status. Sometimes, this immigration enforcement is explicitly violent, like when Border Patrol officials unleash teargas (a chemical weapon banned in warfare) on toddlers, when they rip children from their mothers’ arms, when they kick women huddled on the concrete floors of border cells and scream at them that they are animals. Other times it’s something humdrum and largely invisible: the border guard who calmly tells an asylum seeker at a port of entry that there is “no more room” in the U.S., the judge who silently decides that the terrified person in front of them hasn’t done quite enough to deserve a favorable exercise of discretion, the police officer who has a funny habit of always stopping cars with Hispanic-looking drivers, the countless bureaucrats who review immigration applications and deny them without explanation. All of these acts, from the monstrous to the mundane, have real-world effects on individual people. They mean families separated, whether by deportation or by the hard border that keeps an undocumented breadwinner from ever again visiting the children he had to leave behind. They mean people dying horribly, because they are forced to return to life-threatening danger, or because they become ill in the U.S. and are scared to go the hospital for fear their lack of status will be discovered. They mean workers exploited, because the threat of deportation keeps them under the thumb of their boss, or because arbitrary territorial lines prevent them from seeking better employment conditions in another place.
Immigration policy in the United States cannot be discussed in the abstract. Unless we talk about what our immigration laws actually mean for people’s lives, we’ll have no way to sensibly evaluate them. There are about 11 million unauthorized immigrants in the United States, and several hundred thousand arrested and deported annually. Beneath the statistics, there is fear and pain. Every choice of what laws to have and how to enforce them produces consequences: workplaces raided, kids pulled out of school, women being turned back to face domestic violence.
This context is important when we turn to Angela Nagle’s “The Left Case Against Open Borders,” recently published in American Affairs (formerly the explicitly pro-Trump Journal of American Greatness). Nagle confidently informs us that all mass migration is inherently tragic, and that incentivizing it with overly liberal immigration policies, although it seems kind, is actually cruel. The “open borders left,” Nagle declares, by embracing unrestricted immigration, is hurting the very people they are trying to help, and undermining the prospects for successful labor organizing and a restructuring of the global economic system. She goes so far as to argue that advocates of unrestricted free movement are the “useful idiots of big business,” because they are sanctioning the exploitation of imported laborers. Instead of addressing the root causes of economic migration, they have allied with the Koch Brothers in advocating “open borders.” This “open borders left” has a radically ignorant set of priorities, reacting to Trumpism by embracing Koch-ism, and ignoring the way that unrestricted migration serves the interests of the capitalist class by dividing workers and depressing wages.
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ABOVE PHOTO: A U.S. Border Patrol agent patrols along a section of the U.S.-Mexico border fence on July 16, 2018 in San Diego, California. Getty Images/Mario Tama MAIN PHOTO: Government agents apprehend a landscaper during an immigration sting at Corso’s Flower and Garden Center, Tuesday, June 5, 2018, in Castalia, Ohio. Associated Press/John Minchillo
Now, because Nagle (supposedly) cares about immigrants, she doesn’t want to see them teargassed at the border or hunted down by immigration police. What she doeswant to see is employers who employ undocumented workers being punished by the state, so that they don’t hire undocumented workers anymore. This is the only concrete policy proposal in Nagle’s entire piece, and at no point does she discuss what its enforcement would actually look like. That’s because the enforcement of this policy proposal would look pretty fucking monstrous. In fact, the “E-Verify” system Nagle touts as a humane alternative to ICE is a system that people like Ann Coulterand Kris Kobach have long been putting forward as the ideal immigration restrictionist policy. (Given such political bedfellows, by Angela Nagle’s logic we might accuse her of being the useful idiot of white nationalism. Then again, Angela Nagle’s logic is terrible.) E-Verify is the central piece of a slate of an anti-immigrant policies designed to encourage “self-deportation”: that is, making life so miserable for undocumented people in the U.S., making them so poor and desperate and demoralized and afraid, that they decide to leave the country of their own accord. As the anti-immigrant Center for Immigrant Studies describes, the goal of self-deportation is to “create ‘virtual choke points’—events that are necessary for life in a modern society but are infrequent enough not to bog down everyone’s daily business. Another analogy for this concept to firewalls in computer systems, that people could pass through only if their legal status is verified. The objective is not mainly to identify illegal aliens for arrest (though that will always be a possibility) but rather to make it as difficult as possible for illegal aliens to live a normal life here.”
The fact that a self-described leftist like Nagle would openly support E-Verify shows that she is, at best, so grossly uninformed about immigration policy that it was irresponsible for her to commentate on it. At worst, it might be that she genuinely does not give a shit about the suffering of immigrants and is perfectly happy to sacrifice them to political expediency. Either way, she is not a credible exponent of what “the left” ought to think about anything.
However, ideas like Nagle’s have proven persuasive to a number of people over the years, so it’s worth going through her essay and dissecting each of her claims. First, Nagle argues that “the left” has historically (and wisely) opposed mass immigration as detrimental to worker interests. Secondly, she argues that there are no compelling arguments in favor of open borders or free movement other than those put forward by “big business,” whose only desire to exploit cheap labor. Thirdly, she argues that using the E-verify system to target employers of undocumented workers, rather than the workers themselves, is a humane way to keep undocumented people out of the workforce. Finally, she argues that immigrants don’t truly want to migrate anyway, so we should block them from doing so, and in the meantime just go about fixing all the problems that caused them to feel they needed to migrate in the first place.
(Continue Reading)
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fogmongers · 5 years
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                                       a  l  l  i  s  o  n     c  l  o  v  e  r                                   S  A  N  D  R  A     C  A  R  R  O  L  L .                    unenrolled.                                                                     dorm couch surfer.                        psychedlics dealer.      tramp.      freelance sugar baby.      dropped angel.
grew up in the underbelly of chicago, raised by a well-meaning but fatally over-protective single mother, who tried to shield her daughter from the grit and grime that covered every square inch of their community.
as a child, allison clover was kept busy at all costs, distracted by a wallpapering of catholicism from the influence of her peers and the sordid history of her mother. she was brought up in the church; socializing primarily within the church’s community, playing on the church’s softball team, participating in the church’s charity events and helping to organize the church’s fundraisers.
she and her mother ran an online business selling homemade incense, candles, and teabags from herbs and spices grown right in their apartment. it was just enough to help keep the lights on when her mother’s job at the plant nursery couldn’t cut it. this is to say: a young, naive allison wouldn’t have much in realm of inheritance when she would need it.
shortly after ally’s 18th birthday, her mother was killed in an assault. 
gang initiation. body mutilated. her teenage daughter had to identify the corpse. 
the tragedy shattered allison’s eden--- woke her up to the nihilistic nature of the world, in which good people can die for no rhyme or reason. and it showed her the true nature of contemporary christians and their shortcomings in practicing what they preach. in the wake of ms. clover, the church community offered ally their prayers and platitudes, but no one in their lower class community had a dime to spare or room on their couches when allison needed a place to stay, every conservative bystander assuming someone else would step up to take care of her. 
emotionally distraught and disappointed in her paper thin support system, allison stopped sticking around after mass and isolated herself from the community, eventually opting not to attend altogether. 
the scraps of inheritance she had left after paying for a catholic funeral would not help her afford the rent. her underwhelming resume would not be enough to get her a job to support herself. too overcome with grief to manage working two jobs; with her mother deeply estranged from the rest of their family; with her long history of being isolated from her neighbors; she had nowhere to turn when she was evicted.
her naivete and lack of alternative options paved allison’s way to falling in with a bad crowd. her first night at a local shelter, she was recognized outside by a raggedy boy from her graduating class. immediately trusting, she opened up to him about her situation and vulnerability, and he was all too quick to offer her a place to stay until she got back on her feet. she never stopped to question his character or intentions. 
she was fast to fall in with the boy and his band of delinquents, which she would later realize to be a gang deeply involved in several webs of drug trafficking in the city. her sheltered upbringing left her unprepared to notice red flags, and her gullibility made it easy for the kids to take advantage of her on the grounds of offering her bedrooms to stay in and spotting her meals in her hard time. when offerings of basic human necessities turned into talking her into smoking with them and bringing her along to parties, it wasn’t hard for them to pressure her into using her inexperienced body to pay her respect to their hospitality.
catholic guilt went head-to-head with disillusioned catholic angst, both raging inside her head with feelings of physical violation she didn’t have the understanding to place. in the midst of the chaos, (and as a fuel to it,) she developed a taste for the escapism. preferred to live in the haze of inebriation and work out her conflicts of spirituality with mushrooms than face her situation or her grief. but she didn’t realize she was running up a tab with her friends.
from a peer’s perspective, she picked up on their culture fast. learned the slang and the technique. gave off the impression of someone who knew what she was getting into when they started sending her to drop off and pick up, and when she was smoking herself into debts she’d never be able to repay. 
after ignoring the scarier and grittier aspects of the new friends she’d made for a year, and then upsetting them when she started avoiding sex--- depriving her friends of their payment--- things came to a head after a traumatically bad trip on DMT, sending her into a serious crisis of faith and fear that her sins were becoming unforgivable, which prompted her to decide to branch out to people other than the dealers she was wasting her youth with.
when the ghouls started getting insulted by her pulling away, one of them let her know that she still owed them for all of the drugs and safety they’d given her, and when she stood her ground and put a lock on what they wanted from her, he told her she owed them at least $3,000 for their troubles before they would let her “broke, needy ass” scurry away.
in a panic for finding that kind of money in the near future and feeling a serious threat for her physical safety at the mercy of a gang of intimidating men, she opted instead to commit one last sin in the form of stealing a suitcase and backpack of drugs from the trap house and taking a bus as far out of town as she could go.
she started going by the new name SANDRA CARROLL and planned to keep moving and sell the stash of psychedelics to keep her afloat until she could start using her legal name again and get a law-abiding job, but by the time she started running out of cash for motels, she still wasn’t emotionally prepared to start dealing. she tried to go to bars to find slightly less dangerous people who would pick her up as a sugar baby and give her shelter until she was far enough and emotionally stable enough to take care of herself. the panic attacks and paranoia made it hard for her to nail a trustworthy hookup.
in a final wave of desperation, she contacted her childhood friend nate to find any kind of guidance or assistance in her situation, and he arranged for her to make a break for rainier, knowing that genie would give her a place to lay low. 
genie has effective guardianship over her now, which is to say: she insists that sandy spends nights in her dorm rather than bouncing around campus, splits meals with her, loans her clothes and generally looks out for her while she’s trying to get back on her feet. but it’s genie, so she’s not exactly the most attentive mom friend, and has a tendency to enable sandy’s worst vices because she’s no hypocrite. can and will, however, absolutely wreck anyone who tries to manipulate sandy, if genie can just focus enough to notice it happening.
the generally low threat level and high libido of clients on a college campus makes it significantly easier to sandra to deal and hustle free food and beds to sleep in, which is good, because her general fear of being a burden and newfound fear of becoming indebted to people makes her try to spread herself out over the campus, rather than rely solely on genie. but the decadent nature of the students and assurances of safety on campus lead to her feeling too undistracted, too alone in her thoughts when she has time to breathe. and it’s hard for her to stay sober when everyone else is partying. at the rate she’s going, she may not have enough stock to sell to keep food in her stomach before the coast is clear and she feels she’s safe enough to be allison clover again.
(( TL;DR: sheltered church girl is ill-prepared and too naive to survive on her own when her mother dies unexpectedly; falls in with a bad crowd and loses control of her expenses and herself; steals an enormous stash of psychedelic drugs and flees chicago, going by a false name and dealing to stay just barely afloat. currently dorm surfing through mt. rainier university. ))
PERSONALITY: 
pleasant. demure. distracted. passive. calm. trustworthy, but unreliable.
very somber, but doesn’t have an easily detectable sadness. very dreamy, but not too in-your-face with her eccentricity; more introverted about it or even a little insecure. the kind of person who you might see sway-dancing like a twin peaks character, or sticking her hand out of a moving car’s window and surfing it in the breeze, or praying only when she thinks no one’s looking, and if you look close you might catch a tear streaming down her face. zones in and out in the middle of conversation and feels really guilty about it. still has a trace of purity to her that most people don’t pick up on until they outright find out about her upbringing. comes off as the chill wallflower of a druggie clique; not unfriendly but not the person to start the conversation; doesn’t instigate the orgy but she’s definitely down and certainly keeps up. might seem aloof or quiet because she’s never sure if she belongs there and doesn’t want to show it and get rejected. innocent but not inexperienced. very good at maintaining lucidity just long enough to escape any witnesses when she's having a bad trip. 
WANTED CONNECTIONS: 
hookups and clients (she deals assorted psychedelics; 90% dmt, acid, ecstasy, mushrooms). a very disinterested person for her to have a crush on even though they wouldn’t notice if she died. a kinder person with a crush on her that she’ll never pick up on. friends who smoke with her without expecting her to throw in. friends who invite her to hang out overnight without expecting anything. someone who will sleep with her for opportunistic reasons (consensual but still taking advantage of her credulity or rumors that she’ll sleep with anyone after they let her dorm with them for a little bit) or who sleeps with her without knowing that she’s effectively prostituting herself for shelter. someone who friends her twee or annoying. someone who’s suspicious of her and where she came from.
big plot: someone, either from or hired by the gang of dealers, who’s been sent to track her down and collect her debt  👀 :grim_reaper_emoji:
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artturifocus · 2 years
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Medieval Peasants I - The Feudal System
We all cheer for the underdog who comes from humble backgrounds and rises to the top through determination and luck. Within the realm of fantasy, a common humble background is found at the farm. Symbolic of peace and separation from the hustle and bustle of city life, the farm allows the protagonist to grow up in innocent ignorance from the evil that exists outside their bubble of paradise and grow alongside the reader as they explore a busy and tumultuous new world. There is also a very small cast of characters that the protagonist will know and vice versa, creating an extended family. In Artturi Focus, all of these tropes exist and more (not to mention the ever present “orphan protagonist” trope that boosts the effectiveness of Artturi being able to build familial connections with others living in Chrossili).
Yet, there exists some juxtaposition when describing this medieval farm life. One is that we view the farm as a pastoral sanctuary of no struggle, and the other is that it is a hard life in which debts must be paid and nature is to be contended with. Can these two lifestyles exist in harmony, and were they present in tandem with one another in Welsh history? Of course, the medieval period of Wales expanded across a great length of time, so farming practices have varied. For this reason, I shall primarily highlight the farm/feudal system most prominent in the 11th century (not just in Wales, but across much of Western Europe).
Already, a glaring difference exists between the shown farm life in Artturi Focus and reality, and that is the hierarchical and feudal system. According to an informative article by the Wrexhim Council of Wales, “There were three main social groups: the uchelwyr - the upper class, the bonheddwyr - the freemen and the taeogion - the unfree peasants” (WCBC). Uchelwyr consisted of people like aristocrats and nobles who controlled units of land, and distributed this land amongst peasants to live on in exchange for monetary gain and/or military strength. The taeogion are probably more recognizable with the feudal term “serf”. These were the tenant farmers who were bound to the land and also made up the biggest population. To clarify, just because they are considered “unfree” does not mean they were slaves; though some taeogion certainly could fall into that category. Many taeogion at the time were unwillingly put into this class due to natural disasters, like droughts, in which land loans would need to be considered. While it was hard to leave the land legally, they benefited from the protection of the uchelwyr.
The bonheddwyr were placed above the taeogion in the sense that they owned their own land and were free to move whenever, and were overall independent while still following the laws of the land and occasionally providing their service in the military. They lived in small communities of kinships. As of now, perhaps it is best to consider Artturi falling into this category. Of course, as I learn and consider more facets of medieval culture, I may find myself adjusting and adding more of a semblance to the feudal system.
But what is the appeal of the freeman peasant protagonist instead of going down to the unfree peasant for more of that “underdog” feel? It could be in the name. By having the peasant protagonist be free in the first place, one removes the need to jump through hoops just to start an adventure and leave their hometown. Perhaps it could seem like a hindrance to the flow of the story to go into the legalities of a serf leaving their land (though I have no doubts that something like this could be extremely fascinating with the right storytelling. It could give the protagonist even more reasons to show hesitation toward leaving their comfort zone. Hmm… I’ll have to write that down, perhaps).
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I’ll be honest: I was never all that interested in the feudal system. Politics bore me and yet here I am-- attempting to write a medieval fantasy inspired by the ascension and exploits of a king. However, just by writing this specific blog, I find myself wondering how I can implement certain aspects of this farm system in an appealing and comprehensible way. I thank you for reading this blog~!
As I shall always say, I never consider myself to be an expert, nor do I plan on telling falsehoods. Please let me know if something I have said is utterly wrong, and I shall edit this blog or bring it up in future blogs. I appreciate your help!
Cartwright, Mark. “Serf.” World History Encyclopedia, World History Encyclopedia, 2 Nov. 2021, https://www.worldhistory.org/Serf/.
“Medieval Peasants.” Medieval Chronicles, 17 Oct. 2019, https://www.medievalchronicles.com/medieval-people/medieval-peasants/.
Wrexham County Borough Council, Guildhall. “Life in Wales.” Medieval Exhibition - Life in Wales - WCBC, Wrexham County Borough Council, http://old.wrexham.gov.uk/english/heritage/medieval_exhibition/life_in_wales.htm.
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wnq-anonymous · 7 years
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High-Functioning Anxiety Is More Complicated Than You Perceive
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It may seem like common sense to others but anyone who suffers from high-functioning anxiety (HFA) is an incredibly obsessive and perfectionist being. They often rerun conversations in their head for hours, as well as developing highly dangerous obsessive behaviour. But what is most surprising is that from the outside, these people seem to look like they have their sh*t together. You would never know, they will not show your where their weakness lies.
If most film and TV tropes are to be believed, then the average person who contends with anxiety is a nail-biting, hand-wringing nervous wreck who has trouble leaving the house and has panic attacks if their barista puts the wrong flavor shot into their morning latte.
The thing is, anxiety can manifest in countless different ways, and those who contend with high-functioning anxiety often do so under the radar, because their coping mechanisms are subtle and internalized.
If you aren’t sure whether you or someone you know is dealing with high-functioning anxiety, try to observe the following, which are good signs that you/they are.
Type A Perfectionism
A person with high-functioning anxiety (HFA) tends to be plagued by obsessive thoughts and worries that intrude on a constant basis. They may not be able to break free from worrying about a particular “what if?” scenario, or even an aspect of their life at that moment. So they immerse themselves in work, or housecleaning, or school, or a particular hobby, in order to try to escape from the downward spiral their thoughts drag them into.
If their entire being is focused on essay research or re-organizing their 800 books by genre, then alphabetically by author, and sub-categorized by color, then slightly less energy is being put towards the fear that plagues them.
In a desperate attempt to get away from the gnawing beast of worry, they might seem like high-energy extroverts: they’ll surround themselves with friends, be workaholics who take evening and weekend classes, and could very well be admired in their social circle. After all, they’re ambitious, energetic, and enthusiastic, right?
Well, no. Not so much.
Chances are that all that energy and enthusiasm is a big façade and just a massive form of escapism. In fact, they’re doing all they can to avoid those in-between times where things quiet down and they’re alone with their intrusive thoughts.
You’ve likely experienced them before when you’ve gone through a crisis like a breakup – when you’re up at 3am obsessing over every conversation, every exchange, every scenario you’ve experienced (or might experience) and you just can’t sleep or think of literally anything else.
Chronic insomnia is something that just about everyone with HFA experiences, and this not only exacerbates the panic, but brings a slew of co-morbid issues along with it: constant headaches, weakened immune system, gastrointestinal disorders, muscle aches…
Imagine how incredibly difficult it would be if that were your life all the time.
That’s what a lot of people with high-functioning anxiety contend with on a constant basis. Is it any wonder why they immerse themselves in activities?
Tics and Twitches
People with HFA who aren’t engaged in immersive projects to distract them, or who haven’t found a type of meditation or therapy that works for them, can internalize their worries. They push them deep down and try to ignore them, but doing that never really works. Those worries and fears just end up manifesting physically, even if the person isn’t aware of them.
Nervous tics like twitches, repeated blinking, cuticle picking, hair pulling, etc. are just a few ways that anxiety can manifest. Some people bite their lips raw, others have difficulty sitting still, so they’ll bounce a leg or twiddle their thumbs.
For some people, these physical manifestations aren’t just the result of repressed worry, but are ways for them to channel their nervous energy so their thoughts aren’t overwhelmed.
As an example, if they’re in a social situation where they’re feeling overwhelmed (too many people talking at once, or the music is too loud, or they’re just flooded with thoughts and emotions), their physical twitchiness may intensify. Some may even need to excuse themselves temporarily – or in some cases actually run out the door – so they can take a few minutes to do some breathing exercises and just calm themselves down.
They might be able to regroup and then go back into the fray, or they might be far more comfortable just leaving at that point, but either one of those decisions will weigh on them very heavily and be absolutely devastating to navigate. If they stay, they know they’ll be uncomfortable and overwhelmed. If they go, they might be thought of negatively or disappoint someone they care about.
Doesn’t sound like an easy thing to contend with, does it?
Lack Of Understanding
One of the worst things about HFA is the fact that, since most sufferers give the impression that they generally have all their sh*t together, it’s difficult for others to believe that they’re suffering inside. Much of the time they are simply blind to the turmoil raging under the surface.
After all, if an honors student who also holds down a job and does volunteer work for orphaned baby seals on weekends comes out and says that they’re plagued with crippling anxiety, do you think they’d be taken seriously?
All of their behavior points to a person who is focused, driven, and immensely capable. This is a person with ceaseless drive and energy – how can they possibly be dealing with anxiety?
What an absurd thing to even consider, right?
People who fall into this category often have a far more difficult time getting the help they need because they present as being too “together” to need help. They may have trouble convincing friends and partners that they’re losing their sh*t because those people have only ever seen their “everything’s great!” mask and so can’t even conceive of the possibility that they’re in turmoil.
Even worse, the sufferer may hesitate to open up to others about their difficulties because they’ve worked so hard to maintain this façade for so long that they’re scared their true selves won’t be accepted by the few people they’ve truly allowed close to them.
That mere thought may put them into the throes of a panic attack and prevent them from getting the help they desperately need.
If you feel as though you might be living with high-functioning anxiety, it may be a good idea to speak to a therapist about techniques that can help you cope. Meditation and mindfulness can be immensely helpful for staying in the present moment (try these affirmations for anxiety and these ones to help you stop overthinking), and certain medications may be useful as well, whether prescribed, or herbal.
Some people have found passionflower to be a great plant ally for anxiety, while others use a high-CBD cannabis to combat theirs, if it’s legal in their area. Some dietary changes such as cutting out gluten, dairy, and/or sugar can also be of great help. But please always speak to your healthcare practitioner before you make any major changes of this kind. They will be able to advise to of the pros and cons of the various approaches.
If, instead, you have a friend or romantic partner whom you believe struggles with HFA, please try to be understanding and compassionate. No-one chooses to have these ever-present, nagging worries, and you can rest assured that they would be more than happy to just “let it go” if they were capable of doing so.
These are people who are pretty much prisoners of their own anxieties, and they’re terrified of hurting those they care about by letting them down. If you think poorly of them for a shortcoming you believe they’ve exhibited, understand that they absolutely despise themselves for that very same thing.
These people hold themselves to ridiculously high standards, and thinking that they might have hurt you or let you down because the thoughts they’re battling have won temporarily… well, it’s just devastating.
We could all use a bit more understanding and compassion in our lives, so if you or someone you love is contending with any of this, please be gentle.
Have you suffered from high-functioning anxiety in the past? Or are you coping with it now? Leave a comment below to share your experiences with others who may benefit from what you have to say.
[This article was originally published by A Conscious Rethink]
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jopok-krp · 3 years
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Welcome to Jopok! Please follow the ADMIN TWITTER within 48 hours of acceptance, or your faceclaim will be freed up
Personality: 
hyunwoo is far from the nicest. he has a cold exterior and prefers to be by himself rather than around others; a good day for him consists of staying home while playing games or working. he has a hard time communicating in person due to his lack of verbal speech, and he absolutely despises anyone that looks down on him for using KSL or text to communicate with others. his words towards those that do so are incredibly harsh, though that isn’t too far off from how he acts in the first place. he tends to give short and blunt answers, and he’s far from afraid to let people know if he isn’t interested in them in general.
with hyunwoo, you reap what you sow. he isn’t overly rude to those that are nice to him, and he knows when others are putting in an effort to interact civilly. those are the people he respects and finds himself enjoying interaction with, even if it’s only vaguely.
Background:
𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙
born into a family of hackers belonging to a notorious group known as omicron, hyunwoo starts out his life comfortably. they have no shortage of money to spend on the necessities and more, and they certainly have no shortage of affection to offer their son. it’s a healthy environment, one where hyunwoo goes through school far easier than most kids his age. he learns to read and write quicker and aces his tests, though he hardly interacts with his peers. his parents and teachers chalk it up to him being shy, especially when the child is almost always happy in his parents’ company.
truth be told, his lack of seeking out others to socialize doesn’t seem to be that big of an issue. his parents take that opportunity to offer hyunwoo early insight towards their line of work, and he’s all too happy to indulge in the digital world. the numbers and countless lines of code mean nothing to him yet, but he enjoys immersing himself in different games more and more over the years.
[ 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍: 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍. ]
𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙣𝙙
hyunwoo opens up to people eventually. he makes a few friends in middle school, most of which seem more interested in his intellect than his personality — but that’s okay, because “at least you’re making friends.” he genuinely likes some of them, at least, and the moral of the story for this ten-year-old seventh grader goes as follows: not all people suck.
he progresses through life as any kid would (with added work, of course, but he doesn’t mind), spending time with friends here and there but clearly enjoying books and games far more. he has a knack for technology that slowly grows as time goes on with his parents’ added pointers gearing him towards learning about the inner workings of it all in the future; after all, they’d love for their son to work with omicron just like they do when he gets older. he has the tools to become a prodigy, so why not?
[ 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚗𝚍: 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍. ]
𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙞𝙘𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙞𝙣
the shortage starts when hyunwoo is thirteen, and his family works tirelessly with omicron to find any and all information they can. when hyunwoo isn’t in high school (skipping grades due to his own intellect put him as possibly the youngest sophomore at his school), he’s at home doing homework or watching his parents work side-by-side. this only becomes an issue when his mother manages to hack into an elite family’s cameras, and, though hyunwoo doesn’t understand the exact importance of it, his parents clearly do. they all gather around the monitor and watch as the higher class swim in ridiculously large pools filled to the brim with water that most people could only dream of having at this point in time, and they truly believe they’ve found the breakthrough they needed to force some kind of response from the government. —which would be great, if hyunwoo didn’t lean forward a bit too far and hit a few keys on the keyboard. the led light for their camera flashes on for a mere second, and then everything turns off all at once. it isn’t hyunwoo’s fault, not really— not when their defenses are far too weak in the first place with elites lurking just behind encrypted lines of code and waiting for the right moment to counterattack. he doesn’t register just how bad the damage may be in that moment anyway.
his parents share worried glances, and then they continue on under the same mindset hyunwoo had for that moment: all that happened was he crashed their programs on accident, and it didn’t mean a single thing. days pass of hyunwoo continuing on at school, of his parents contacting omicron and trying to hack into the cameras all over again. if only things continued on that way.
it starts with a relatively odd occurrence at school; hyunwoo gets called down to the office to check out early, but he doesn’t recognize the person waiting for him. the person claims to be his mother’s cousin who is there to get him because his mother fell ill suddenly and is currently being taken to the hospital. at the time, hyunwoo decides not to question it; after all, the school has a strict policy of strangers not being allowed to take anyone anywhere. this person surely is related to him and documented somewhere in their system, so he goes with them while asking far too many distressed questions about the state of his mother.
it’s unfortunate that the situation continues on with hyunwoo being taken somewhere that definitely isn’t a hospital nor his home— even more unfortunate when he’s put in a room and held for ransom to lure out his parents and maybe even other members of the hacker organization his family took part in.
the days are long and painful.
in the end, no one comes for him. it’s as if he’s forgotten — lost in a system he hardly understands. they try to get information from him, of all people; him who didn’t have a single ‘technologically gifted or important’ friend to point out to them, him who was at least smart enough to feign some level of ignorance when it came down to his parents’ line of work.
eventually, the elites run out of use for him. he clearly isn’t a good bargaining chip, nor is he any good for spilling loads of information even under pressure (but holy shit, was that ‘pressure’ of theirs harsh for a child), and nor is he useful for keeping the situation contained when others have already done what omicron failed to — so, ultimately, they “let him go.”
letting him go consists of the following: they take him someplace secluded and tell him he’s free to go as long as he keeps his mouth shut. the moment he gets out of the car and they deem no one else to be around, they slit his throat and leave him there (“why would we let a kid like you cause more trouble for us?”).
he feels and hears his own scream at first, and then he’s silent. the world goes dark, slowly but surely.
[ 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍. 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝟸𝟶𝟶 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜. ] [ > 𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚚𝚍  > 𝚒𝚍𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚟 𝙼𝙰𝙿𝟹𝟶 ]
𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙞𝙘𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙞𝙣
hyunwoo wakes up what can only be days (weeks, maybe? who knows) later in a hospital bed. his throat feels raw and his whole body aches, but the worst part? he can’t speak. he tries to make a sound countless times, but nothing comes out; it’s only when he reaches over for the nurse call button that he receives any sort of answer — and the answer he does get isn’t one he likes. the nurse tells him not to so much as try to speak because his vocal cords were damaged, and he’d likely be dead if someone hadn’t seen him and dialed 112.
weeks pass by of slow recovery, his only visitor being the person who saw him in the first place. he gets through it, somehow, and the moment he’s discharged he asks the lady to take him home. the only thing he wants is home these days — something about homesickness, something about not knowing where else to go.
he returns to an empty home devoid of any sentient beings, though it seems as if that’s what his parents wanted.
so, at thirteen, hyunwoo takes what his parents left to him (a house, money, a note tucked away with instructions and resources pertaining to various things) and lives the best he can. it’s hard at first; he’s young, and his mind can only handle so much despite his keen intellect.
things get better, though; he progresses through life slowly. first, he learns to take care of himself— eating properly, keeping the place decently clean, finally wrapping his head around how some financial aspects work. two years later, he begins using the other resources his parents provided— learning the basics of coding and attending school online. two years after that at age seventeen, he graduates high school and moves on to college as an online attendee. he uses money left over and money gathered from the small side job he works (a hacking-for-fun type thing, something that won’t get him in legal trouble but still nets him some money) to pay for the tuition, and that’s that.
somewhere along the line, he gets himself tangled into a bit more than he ever thought he would. he becomes a far better hacker than intended (his focus is cybersecurity, after all, so maybe that’s what gave him those tools), and his attitude towards his side job becomes far more serious the moment he realizes some of the people wanting his services are involved in far less legal aspects. that’s okay, though, because hyunwoo — omega, now — is twenty and good at finding information about others that is buried so, so deep in the depths of the internet. he works for whoever pays the most and decides he can be a bit picky with what jobs he accepts; his services are limited due to his own cold disinterest and his desire to finish his degree.
at twenty-one, he graduates college and, again, moves on. he doesn’t care for a “proper” job anymore; others coming to him to dig up information on interesting people is far better, so he continues down that path. omega becomes notorious in his own right, though it isn’t always for his good work; a lot of his notoriety stems from the fact he turns down clients in a heartbeat if they don’t offer him a good payment or an interesting job to complete.
[ 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙶𝙰! 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝟷𝟶𝟶% 𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝟷𝟶𝟶% 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝟷𝟶𝟶% 𝚅𝙸𝙲𝚃𝙾𝚁𝚈. ]
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