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punksarahreese · 3 years

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Coming Out | Sarah Reese

Prompt #1 from Nova’s pride 2021 list

Word count: 2224

***

Sarah always felt like maybe she just wasn’t right. There must be something wrong because she never seemed to fit in. With her absent mother and her father who left as soon as he had the chance, she somehow felt alienated in her own home. Back in public school she never had many friends and always spent her free time with her nose in a book. Popular girls turned their nose up at her comfy clothes and unruly curls, claiming she didn’t put enough effort into her look. As she grew up, her social skills never really felt like they improved, instead Sarah would just mirror the actions of those around her in hopes that they would accept it. Yet she still went through high school being called a freak and being called out for “copying” everyone. It never made sense to Sarah, how people could make friends and converse so easily. She felt like she would sound so cliche whenever she thought about it, stating that she never fit in with the other girls, but it was true.

Sarah knew about her bisexuality from a young age, that was no secret to her. She read the term in a mental health book of all places, while she was hidden in a nook of the middle school library. It was common sense to her, of course she liked more than one gender; who didn’t? She would come to learn that sexuality was a bit more complex than that, though it would take a bit more research. It felt so black and white in Sarah’s mind but a lot of people didn’t agree with it, so she let her sexuality remain a secret for a while.

Still, she had her fair share of crushes on girls and boys in almost every stage of her life. One casual girlfriend in her undergraduate program was still the only real experience Sarah had though; until Joey at least. Neither relationship went very far, either due to Sarah’s confusion with all things social or the lack of spark there. She was so busy with school and work, and her partners in both situations just didn’t feel a connection after some time. Joey was an odd one in particular and Sarah wasn’t sure if it had been more of a him thing or her inexperience that ended it. It was weird and the end didn’t hurt as much as it maybe should have.

Her autism diagnosis was not a shock to her, though it had been to her mom. The week of her 16th birthday, Sarah had made a doctor's appointment and asked to be screened. It was the first time she could make medical decisions on her own and she wanted to know already, even though deep down she had a logical hunch. Years of research and even self-screening through countless medical journals had told Sarah she was probably autistic, so she wasn’t too surprised when she got an official diagnosis less than two years later. It was sensical to her really, the way she thought and felt and acted was so different to everyone else, and an actual label made her feel so seen. This was part of why she didn’t fit in, it wasn’t her fault it was the inaccessibility of normal life that made things so much harder. Her mother didn’t agree, she hated the idea of having a neurodivergent daughter; though she would never say it. Instead any mention of autism was ignored and Sarah’s needs were not accommodated until the day she moved out. It was how life at home had always been, as unfortunate as it happened to be.

There was something else Sarah should have seen coming, with her knowledge that she wasn’t the same as everyone else. Autism often came with a disconnect between the definition of gender and one’s identity and Sarah was no exception, since social constructs almost always went over Sarah’s head. She never felt right calling herself a girl and her brain always had a half second protest whenever she ticked the “female” box on any form. Still, she tried not to think about it too much. She didn’t feel like a boy either, she knew that for certain, so that was that.

It was, in fact, not that. As she got older and the internet queer community expanded, Sarah was exposed to more research and experiences of others in her shoes. Genders outside the binary existed, it was made clear to her, and pronouns were not restricted to those assigned at birth. It was a whole new realm of possibility and it scared Sarah more than she was happy to admit. She wasn’t a girl and she knew it, yet she also wasn’t not a girl. It was so confusing, which is why the thought was almost always pushed to the back of the mind, hidden away to worry about another day.

Curiosity got the better of her one day, though, after reading a forum about neopronouns. Someone was talking about their experience using she/they pronouns, stating that it helped them relate to her identity way more than birth assigned pronouns ever had alone. The poster had noted that they always felt detached from femininity and it was almost as if they were culturally female yet mentally out of the binary. It was that comparison that clicked with Sarah and she couldn’t stop herself from testing the theory.

“Sarah uses she/they pronouns,” she stated tentatively, “Their name is Sarah and she uses she/they pronouns…”

The instant gratification shocked her a bit, unsure of why it felt so right to say such a sentence. A few minutes passed as she sat in silence in front of the laptop, mulling it over. Something about the dual pronouns felt freeing, the idea of not being bound to just the ones she was so used to using. Maybe it would be okay to try them out for a while… just to see if it stuck and still felt as validating as it did alone in her living room.

Telling someone was the next step, though, to see if they were actually comfortable with these pronouns being used about her. Sarah was apprehensive, it would be scary to ask someone to use something different, especially after all these years at Med. Still, she had no reason to fear her friends and colleagues, they should be able to accept Sarah’s wishes.

It took a couple weeks before they were ready to bring it up, after a lot more self reflection and some serious deliberation. She thought this felt right, using new pronouns like this. They weren’t too sure if non-binary was the right label for her, but it didn’t matter in that moment. One step at a time was enough and really there was all the time in the world. So one day while a group of them were at April’s apartment for dinner, Sarah decided to speak up during a lull in conversation.

“Um… Can I ask you all something?”

Eyes were on them in a second, with a chorus of nods and agreement following almost immediately. She trusted everyone there, it was only April, Noah, Natalie, and Connor. Connor had brought Doctor Bekker too but Ava had always been nice enough to Sarah so she wasn’t worried. Besides, the rumour was that Ava wasn’t straight, if Sarah chose to listen to gossip, so she of all people should understand.

“What’s up, Sarah?”

Smiling shyly at Noah, who had looked at her curiously when he spoke, they nodded slowly before starting, “Uh… well I have done a lot of thinking lately… I want to try using she/they pronouns. So I want to ask you all to use both sets of pronouns for me.”

The silence scared her at first, instant regret setting in. Sarah wasn’t sure if that was bad or not, especially with the confusion on Nat’s face. Surprisingly enough it was Ava who broke the silence and Sarah caught the sharp nudge to Connor’s ribs that the surgeon gave before speaking.

“Okay, will do. Thank you for trusting us with that, Sarah, especially me since I know we don’t speak often.”

It was the nonchalant words from the blonde that helped them relax a bit, looking at Ava in silent thanks. She glanced at the rest of them shyly, hoping the worry knitting her brow together wasn’t too apparent.

“Um,” Natalie’s interjection was the most feared, though Sarah hated to admit it. It’s not that Nat couldn’t be trusted, she was just a little new to things out of the cisgendered-heteronormative binary and it made Sarah worried she wouldn’t be immediately accepting.

“What exactly does that mean?”

Sarah stifled a sigh of relief, an explanation was understandable and not the worst answer, “So basically I am comfortable with both she/her pronouns like you use but also they/them pronouns in the singular sense. With me you can use them interchangeably, I just like both as opposed to just she/her. I don’t... completely identify as female, I guess you could say.”

“Oh!” Noah nodded, “Like ‘Sarah said she was going to the lab, they will be back soon’?”

Sarah smiled at his excitement to understand, “Exactly like that.”

“It might be hard to adjust at first…”

“But we will still try,” April added to Natalie’s words with a pointed look, “Thank you for telling us, Sarah. We will do whatever you need to feel comfortable.”

“Reese?” When Sarah looked across the table at Connor he continued, “These two sets of pronouns, do you want us to use both at the hospital or just the ones everyone knows you as?”

“Oh yeah,” Ava agreed, “Don’t want to out the resident before they’re comfortable.”

Hearing someone else use “they” while referring to Sarah made them inexplicably happy, unable to stop the little happy hand flap she often tried to mask as she looked at Ava again. The surgeon seemed to notice the grateful glance and she nodded, a charming smile on her lips. Somehow it helped that Ava wasn’t close to her, maybe because her quick acceptance made the whole situation feel safer.

“Um, maybe just keep it between all of us at first,” Sarah answered slowly, “I’m gonna tell Maggie and Doctor Charles eventually, Ethan and Will too, but I want to give it some time before everyone else knows.”

“Got it,” Connor agreed and raised the glass of whatever alcohol he had brought with him, “Cheers to Reese’s self discovery, then.”

That made quite a few of them laugh, especially Sarah, because it eased the tension. It was still a bit weird for them, she knew that it would be an adjustment, yet no one had stormed out or gotten upset so it was a win in their book. It might take some more explanation for some time and some gentle correction, from what she knew, but it was a good start. When the conversation drifted back to lighter matters, talk of work and jokes about other things, it felt like a weight had been lifted off Sarah’s shoulders. It wasn’t perfect but they felt accepted for the most part, which helped.

When April hugged them before everyone left for home, Sarah just thanked her quietly. It went without saying that arguably her closest work friend accepted them wholeheartedly and they would probably talk about it again one on one. April just hugged Sarah a bit tighter, a reassuring murmur that things would be just fine reaching Sarah’s ears.

It was a clear night when they stepped out of the apartment complex, stopping to admire the stars for a moment before heading to her car. A call of her name had Sarah turning, though, and a familiar blonde was hurrying to catch up with her.

“Sarah, hey,” Ava’s friendly smile was visible thanks to the street lights, “I just wanted to tell you I’m proud of you for doing that. I don’t know if anyone has said it to you but I know how hard coming out can be, even as an adult. If you ever need to talk to anyone, I’m around, okay?”

“I-” Sarah felt her cheeks redden a little and they were grateful for the dim lighting that may have hid it a bit, “Thank you, doctor Bekker, that means a lot.”

“Please, call me Ava,” she laughed a little before glancing behind them, “I need to drive Connor home before he tries to walk, I’ll see you at work maybe?”

Sarah pursed their lips, stifling a laugh herself as she watched the other surgeon, clearly more than tipsy, hovering behind them looking lost, “See you then.”

“We can maybe get coffee some day,” Ava added nonchalantly as she turned to walk away, “Bye, Sarah.”

Sarah was left hovering by her car, the blush having returned to settle on her face. Once again their social skills evaded them, wondering if that was an allusion to a date or if Ava was simply being friendly. Either way, the immediate acceptance and friendly gesture from the supposedly cold and competitive surgeon was enough to make her giddy, shocked with how easily things went over. Not only did Sarah successfully come out to half her friends, but they may have made a new one in the process. It wouldn’t always be easy, she knew that, yet this was a situation that they decided to count as a good experience; all things considered.

It made her feel like maybe there had never been anything wrong with them at all. They were Sarah, that’s all, and in that moment maybe she was more than enough for the right people.

#am i projecting?#i guess we’ll never know #:]#anyway #I wasn’t going to make reesker happen but my little gay brain said it’s pride month #<3 #the pronoun thing was hard because I wanted to use she/they from the start but that would have spoiled the build up #i hope i did this justice #she/they sarah rights babey #sarah reese #this is so bad and so unedited <3 #but it’s also the most I’ve written in weeks

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lizacstuff · 3 years

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Sen Çal Kapımı / Edser Asks

After the fragman, I got a few anons this afternoon, my answer are under the cut.

(Also my initial reactions are in this post.)

Anonymous said: In the spirit of optimism- when Eda broke up with Serkan in 25, everyone freaked out but by the end of the next episode, she proposed LOL. Maybe just maybe they won’t do the “everyone pretends Selin and Serkan are a thing for medical reasons for multiple episodes” route and someone gets her kicked to the curb in 29. I wonder how much of the 2.5 hrs will be before he comes back and how much is after.

LOL, I certainly would like Selin to be back for only one episode. I hope my speculation is right (this post,)and her narrative purpose is to make Serkan distrust Eda from the start and once she’s done that she can exit stage right.

As for the theory you mention, which I have seen on twitter, I don’t see people pretending they’re together for medical reasons. That makes zero sense to me (not that medical diagnosis on a silly romantic dramedy dizi would be accurate, lol) why would that be necessary? Why would anyone go along with that? Especially when all he would need to do is google himself to find out about his relationship with Eda. They were all over the tabloids and on the cover of a magazine. Plus it seems like he knows about Eda, Selin tells him "she turned you into someone you’re not and dragged you into a different world.” He has to know they were in a relationship.

There is a lot of knee-jerk hysteria over there right now which is leading to completely neurosis-induced, nonsensical, worst-case scenario speculation. I recommend avoiding for awhile if anyone is easily upset by that type of thing.

As for the timeline of the ep, great question. I am hoping that the walk into ArtLife is not the end of the episode. We’re going to need to see Serkan and Eda meeting face to face before this episode is up in order to survive! We know almost the full cast (including Hande and Kerem) were shooting at a cafe yesterday, and the cast looked dressed up. Most thought it was for 1x28, so that seems like there are scenes with Serkan and the full cast in this ep.

Though, the show has a lot of questions to answer. How in God’s name did he end up in that cabin? Did he get on the plane or not? Was he held captive and got dropped in the woods with only Selin’s phone number? Has he been in a coma? Was there foul play involved? Was there a brain injury or did Babaanne arrange his kidnapping and give him some experimental drug to wipe out his memories of Eda?

Not sure if this Deniz is a law enforcement official or some sort of private detective, but there would have been some sort of official inquiry and search when he went missing. So he can’t just be lazing around for 2 months, easily findable. And Selin can’t have been with him for anything length of time without the others knowing he’s alive, because that would pretty much be kidnapping. So what HAPPENED?

Anonymous said: I hope we get good Eda and Aydan moments. She didn’t get married but she is still Aydan’s daughter now. He’s going to come back and find that this woman has his mother, his company, his dog, his car, his friends.....there’s no way that he doesn’t just know that Selin has been a snake.

Yes, please! I’m sure we will get Eda and Aydan moments, it looks from the first trailer that they will lean on each other while he’s missing. Which they should, they’ll be the two that will hold out hope and give one another comfort.

I am LOVING that Eda is driving his car and taking care of his dog. As she should, they were hours away from being married! And yes, you’re correct, he’s going to find Eda so deeply embedded in everything he remembers (except Selin) that it’s going to drive him crazy. Who is this woman and how did she ensorcell him so thoroughly? Can’t wait for him to find out.

You know what I’m most looking forward to in regards to Aydan? Serkan’s shock that his mother has conquered her agoraphobia. Can’t wait for him to find out that Eda was instrumental in helping her do that.

She is going to hit him like an emotional freight train. A second time.

Anonymous said: i know most of the fandom has already accepted it as fact bc they can't wait for the actual ep to make conclusions, but i'm less inclined to believe he's been in that cabin w/ selin for 2 months.. idk HOW he gets there, or how selin ends up there.. but for some reason i think they find him first, and he takes off by himself for a bit as he's overwhelmed with the whole situation.. and then selin enters. idk, we'll have to see it, but i think, like all trailers, it's confusing on purpose.

This theory is definitely possible. That he’s found and freaks out and goes to the cabin. Perhaps the last he remembers he was still with Selin so he reaches out to her for answer about what’s going on. That would make sense why he accepts her comfort, and she gives it, but can’t help herself from trying to do everything in her power to make him distrust Eda. Even if she doesn’t have hope of reconciliation, just to cause chaos because she doesn’t want them to find happiness together. She’s said it more than once, she didn’t want him happy, while she was not.

Anonymous said: I am not emotionally prepared to watch the look on Eda’s face when Serkan walks in holding hands with Selin after being missing for the last two months....😭😭😭. Also even if Serkan & Selin are purely platonic watching their scenes together are going to be brutal. I am prepared to cry ( both tears of joy & sadness) & be very mad at various points in this episode. It will be an rollercoaster of emotions for sure.

Yep, pretty much all of this! I don’t think I’m going to enjoy watching this episode at all. However, my hope is that I will really enjoy watching the storyline that it sets up where we get to watch Serkan fall in love with Eda all over again. Think of all the delicious, UST-y, sexy, funny, fiery, passionate scenes that are in store for us!

Off the top of my head, things I want:

Serkan opening Madonna in a Fur Coat and finding their photo

Serkan’s deep-seated memory kicking in and mindlessly tearing the crusts off bread for her without realizing it or knowing why

Finding out his computer password and what it means

Seeing photos of them from their matchmaking party. Looking so in love and surrounded by friends and family and everyone looks so happy

One of the friends, Engin or Piril snapping and telling him the big change Eda brought about in him was just that he was happy

Serkan seeing media clippings of them and their relationship

Eda handcuffing him so they have to spend time together while trying to jog his memory

After being suspicious and trying to keep her at arms length, Serkan finally breaking down and asking her questions about their relationship

Serkan being mistrustful of her, but still unable to say no to her

Anonymous said: So I get that SCK is going through a reset and now we will get to watch Eda & Serkan fall in love again but seriously they brought Selin back like that...WTF? Now she is even worse than Balca. Plus the entire world thinks Serkan is dead but somehow Selin found him and never bothered to tell anyone else...that should send up some red flags for sure. Regardless of the explanation, this situation is going to crush Eda. And it seems like a lot to go through to have him immediately get his memories back so we could be stuck with this storyline for a while.

Yes, poor Eda is going to be crushed no matter what. However, I know that people have been theorizing that the memory loss would be short, but I never thought it would be. What’s the point of this reset unless they’re going to follow through with it and milk it for as many episode as possible. They’re trying to find ways to keep this show going and this is their big swing.

The entire point is to recreate the magic of Eda and Serkan falling in love, and, honestly, I'm not sure why anyone would want that to be over in 2 episodes. I don’t see it as being stuck with the amnesia story, I’m excited for all the parallels, watching Serkan get struck by lightning a second time when he first sees her. Watching him be suspicious of her, of her motives of her abilities, but then finding out all the same things that he found out the first time, that she’s fierce, kind-hearted, loyal and talented. And just a bright shining light for him.

My heart melts just thinking about it. We just have to get rid of that opportunistic, malevolent, bitter hag.

Anonymous said: one complaint that i've seen in regards to sck is that characters aren't sent off properly.. but outside of maybe fifi (which we don't know how they'll explain her leaving) am i the only one that doesn't... really care? everyone that's left has been unsubstantial or in a villain role, and personally whatever way they leave i'm fine with lol.. i know when selin left ppl were mad bc they wanted a redemption story arc for her.. but not every character NEEDS that by default, if that makes sense.

For context, this ask was sent before the fragman. I agree with you, no side character needs redemption by default. I’ve said it many times, but on this specific show, really only two characters matter: Eda and Serkan. This is their story. Their love story. Everyone else is supporting in the truest sense of the word. They all exist to prop up the A story. So for most of them their journey doesn’t matter unless it directly affects Eda or Serkan. (Aydan’s growth and redemption has directly impacted Eda and Serkan and that’s why time has been spent on it). Selin is a tool. She’s behaved erratically at time because she only exists for the writers to use her to antagonize the protagonists. Her story in and of itself does not matter.

I laughed hysterically when some on twitter were thinking Serkan might really be dead and Kerem was leaving the show.

Seriously? You think they would try to keep this show going without Edser? That anyone would pay money for it, without them? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! If one of them were to leave, the show would be over. Dead. Cancelled. There is NO reason for this show to keep going other than for more Edser. Everything else is an after thought, filler, or characters that prop up Eda and Serkan either literally or symbolically or thematically. Nothing else stands on it’s own.

They devised this storyline in order to go back to the magic of these two people falling in love. Full stop. That’s why we’re seeing this reset. Because no other characters or their storylines are compelling enough to carry the show. I applaud the writers for creating a situation where we could watch Serkan fall in love with Eda one more time. (just get rid of Selin, please, so I can enjoy it... and do it quickly.)

#Sen Çal Kapımı #Sen Cal Kapimi #edser #sck speculation #sck spoilers #sckask #sck 1x29 #asklizac #anonymous

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deancas-fanfiction · 3 years

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Hardest Part is Letting Go

Part 3/7

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Fic Summary: Upon his diagnosis of a terminal illness, Dean vows to spend the rest of his short life with Cas by his side, completing his bucket list while learning what it really means to live and love.

Chapter Summary: Dean and Cas cross another item off Dean's bucket list by embarking on a road trip for Sam's law school graduation.

Part 1 Part 2

available on ao3

“Can you believe it? Sam Winchester: attorney at law.” Dean mused.

“Or Sam Winchester, Esquire.” Cas offered.

Dean snorted and shook his head, throwing another flannel in his suitcase. “He’s a big fancy lawyer now. My baby brother is all grown up.”

“Well, he is twenty-seven. I imagine he’s been ‘all grown up’ for some time now,” Cas joked.

“Yeah, I suppose when he married Jess that ship kind of sailed, huh?”

“I suppose.” Cas agreed with a faint smile. He zipped his suitcase and sat on their bed, watching Dean throw another wrinkled shirt in his bag. “Are you really not going to fold that?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas. It’s a t-shirt. I think it will be fine.”

“What about your nice shirt for his graduation?” He eyed Dean and took in the way he avoided meeting his eyes. “Please tell me you’re packing a nice shirt for his graduation.”

“It’s a graduation ceremony, Cas! I don’t need a suit. Remember his college graduation? Most people were dressed casually.”

“And remember when Jess booked us all a reservation at that French restaurant afterward? The host made you go home and change because you didn’t meet the dress code. Besides, I’m willing to bet Jess will make another fancy reservation for celebrations after the ceremony.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll bring a nice button-down. But I’m not wearing a suit,” He warned.

Cas held his hands up in mock surrender. “I would never dream of making you wear one.”

Dean threw the nearest button-down on the top of his suitcase and began zipping it up. He only paused when he heard Cas wince.

“It’s going to wrinkle, Dean!”

Dean stepped back and scratched his jaw, letting out a sigh. “Okay, new plan: I’ll leave the room and make us some dinner. This allows you to completely repack my suitcase the way you like, and I won’t even complain about it.”

Cas grinned, happy with the outcome. “Deal!”

Dean kissed the top of his head and left the room, mumbling something about how a few wrinkles wouldn’t hurt anyone, which Cas pointedly chose to ignore. He then dumped out the contents of Dean’s suitcase and methodically began folding and repacking the luggage.

As predicted, autumn was fleeting and quickly turned into a cold and brutal winter. It was only early December, but the wind was biting and the snow ruthless. When Dean and Cas learned that Sam was graduating from law school a semester early, they were ecstatic. Mostly because Sam was the male equivalent of Elle Woods by graduating from law school top of his class, but also because they get to trade the incessant cold of Kansas for the sunny warmth of California.

The timing of his graduation was perfect, actually. Dean’s symptoms remained stagnant for the last two months and were completely manageable with the help of his medications. If Sam hadn’t taken those extra summer classes the last two years, he would actually be graduating in May and Cas wasn’t so sure if Dean could make that cross-country trek six months from now. But he pushed that thought from his mind and returned to the task at hand.

They originally planned on flying to California for the graduation, but then Cas had a stroke of genius. Remembering item six on Dean’s list, he suggested turning it into a road trip. For as long as Cas has known him, Dean dreamed of road tripping along the historic Route 66, which begins in Chicago and ends in Los Angeles; and suddenly all of the pieces fit into place. They would join Route 66 in Oklahoma, just four hours away from Lawrence. Then they’d follow the route all the way to L.A., arriving just in time for Sam’s graduation from UCLA. After he proposed the idea, Dean was completely on board and already mapping out the best stops for pie and burgers along the way.

Cas finished with Dean’s suitcase and quickly returned his attention back to his own bag. He double-checked he had everything packed, including a small wooden box hidden at the bottom with a certain piece of jewelry inside. Satisfied with the completion of his mental checklist, Cas zipped the bags and followed the scent of dinner to the kitchen.

-----

“Dean.” Cas groaned, his voice rough and gravelly from sleep. “Must we leave at such an obscene hour?”

Dean chuckled and shut his car door. “According to the schedule that you made, we need to drive about twelve hours today to make it on time. I’m just following your orders, babe.”

“The sun isn’t even up yet,” Cas whined, slumping in the seat.

“Here, this will help.” Dean handed him a large thermos with coffee and started the engine. The engine purred beneath him and Dean couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh. It always felt so good to get behind the wheel of his baby. He put the car into gear and pulled out of their driveway, heading towards the open road.

He glanced over at Cas as he took a large gulp of coffee. His hair was sticking out in all directions, making it clear Cas didn’t even attempt to smooth it down today. He smiled at the grumpy expression on Cas’s face and turned his attention back to the road, drumming his fingers on the wheel.

The first hour of the drive was quiet. They headed south to hop onto Route 66 in Oklahoma. While they weren’t making the official Route 66 trek by beginning in Chicago, Dean was completely fine with that. He’d spent most of his life in the Midwest, he didn’t need to backtrack just to see the flat landscape he was already familiar with. The radio was playing softly as Dean and Cas both took the time to wake up for the day. As Cas pointed out, it was still dark so there were few cars on the road. It was actually a rather peaceful start to the day.

As soft colors began to replace the dark sky, Cas’s mood began to turn around as the caffeine entered his system. He hummed along with the radio and watched the snow-covered trees quickly pass by. The pastel pinks and oranges from the rising sun reflected off the white snow, creating a warm glow. At that thought, he turned and leaned his back against the passenger door so he was facing Dean.

“You know, at first I was disappointed with the timing of the road trip. I didn’t think the drive would be very picturesque in December. I always thought fall or summer would be the opportune time to go.” He paused, looking back out the window. “But this is actually really nice. Everything is so still and quiet.”

“Well, by the time we get farther west it will feel like summer anyway. So, we’ll get a little bit of both.”

“That’s true,” Cas mused. “We should have done a road trip like this a long time ago.”

“We were always too busy with life. You had summers off, but that’s when the shop got the busiest for me. We just never made the time to slow down and experience things like this.” Dean observed. “Not that being so busy was a bad thing. We both loved our jobs, but we always said, ‘there will be a better time’ or ‘maybe next year.’ But now…well we don’t really have that privilege, do we?”

“I suppose not,” Cas sighed sadly.

“On a positive note, I’m glad that now we’re making the time for things like this.”

“Me, too.” He murmured, attempting a smile.

“Hey,” Dean said softly. “Stop that.”

“Sorry, I don’t like thinking about how we can no longer make long-term plans.”

“Then don’t think about it.”

“You know it’s not that easy.”

“Yeah, yeah I get it. But right now, I’m here, okay?” Dean tore a hand away from the steering wheel and intertwined it with Cas’s. “Focus on that. When your mind starts wandering to those thoughts, shut it down and focus on the now. Because these moments right here, these are the ones I want you to look back on and I only want you to remember how happy we are. I don’t want this last year tainted with sadness. Can you do that for me?”

Cas nodded and squeezed Dean’s hand. The gesture said more than he could vocalize at the moment. Cas had never cared for anyone as much he does for Dean. He always thought that finding Dean and experiencing that all-consuming, world-shattering love with him was like some kind of reward for surviving the first shitty eighteen years of his life. But now that Cas knows their time together is limited, he can’t help but feel like the punchline to some kind of cosmic joke.

He shook his head and slowly exhaled, turning his attention on Dean’s advice to focus on the positives. Dean is next to him right now and that’s all that matters. He has his left hand draped on the steering wheel with his right intertwined with Cas’s; and despite the heavy conversation, he still has a genuine smile on his face. It’s the kind of smile that lights up his whole face, giving him a youthful glow regardless of the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Cas returned his smile with a genuine one this time.

“We’re doing this all wrong, you know.” Cas states, changing the subject.

“Doing what wrong?” Dan asks quizzically.

“Your bucket list item. It said, ‘road trip with a kickass playlist.’ We’re currently road-tripping listening to a subpar radio station. Not really the same thing.”

“No,” He agreed. “I suppose it isn’t the same thing. Grab a tape out of the glove box, will ya?”

“I know you have very strict rules which state that the driver picks the music, but you’ll have to make an exception for this one instance.” Cas held up a cassette tape he dug out of his own jacket pocket which read ‘Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Traxx.’

Dean grinned. “That is always an exception. Pop it in.”

He inserted the tape into the player and turned the volume up a little higher. The opening notes to Immigrant Song played out and Cas settled into his seat, letting the music wash over him.

“Remember when I gave this to you?” Dean baited.

“We were fighting,” Cas laughed.

“Over something stupid.”

“Big surprise there.”

“God, I don’t even remember what the fight was about anymore.”

“I do. You –” Cas caught himself off. “You know what, it doesn’t matter.”

“Good save, Cas.”

Cas smirked. “You hadn’t talked to me all day. I was reading in the living room and you stomped in, dropped it on my lap and just walked away.”

“This was early in our relationship. I was bad at communicating! This was the best way I could tell you I was an idiot and that I was sorry.”

“Well, it obviously worked. I went for a drive and listened to it. I forgave you by the time this first song was over.”

“It’s only a two-minute song, Cas.”

“Exactly my point. I never have much resolve when it comes to staying mad at you, do I?”

“I suppose not,” Dean acknowledged. “Besides, that was a pretty romantic move on my part.”

“Yes, it was. If I hadn’t already been so in love with you at that point, I’m sure the mixtape would have sealed that deal.”

“So, what you’re saying is I should have made you a mixtape right after I met you?”

“I’m pretty sure from the moment I met you, I knew you were someone special, Dean.”

Dean flushed at that statement and he felt the tips of his ears turn pink. At this point in their relationship, he’d grown accustomed to how forward Cas can be, but it still has quite an impact on him. “Yeah, I thought the same about you,” He murmured.

Cas beamed at him, showing the whites of his teeth and leaned over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. At that exact moment, the song ended and switched into Good Times Bad Times. Dean cranked it up and sang loudly along with Cas.

I know what it means to be alone

I sure do wish I was at home

I don't care what the neighbors say

I'm gonna love you each and every day

You can feel the beat within my heart

Realize, sweet babe, we ain't ever gonna part

Yeah, this moment here is the exact reason he put this item on his bucket list.

In no time, they were cruising on Route 66 heading west towards New Mexico, their destination for the night. When they stopped to grab gas and snacks a few miles back, Cas grabbed a handful of Route 66 brochures and had been thoughtfully studying them ever since.

“Anything good?” Dean asked, rather amused at his boyfriend’s total infatuation with the tourist gimmick.

“Did you know that Route 66 was commissioned in 1926 but wasn’t fully paved until 1938? Then in 1985, it was decertified a U.S. highway. Originally it was 2,448 miles in 1926 but now it totals 2,278 miles from beginning to end.”

Dean hummed in response, not daring to interrupt Cas. He learned it’s best to let Cas get it out of his system.

“You know, there’s a place called ‘Cadillac Ranch’ in Texas. We could stop there! We’re pretty close.” He chirped, bringing Dean’s attention back to the conversation.

“A Cadillac ranch?” Dean grimaced. “What is that?”

“It’s a public art sculpture of ten Cadillac’s buried nose-first in the ground.” Cas paused for a moment. “Actually, that doesn’t sound very appealing at all.”

Dean chuckled. “Thank God. I was wondering how I was going to talk you out of it.”

“Are there any stops along the way you want to make?”

“Cas, I’m in this for the driving and for the company. I don’t need to stop at niche tourist stops unless it’s something you really want to do.”

“I just want to make sure you get the full road trip experience!”

“To me, the full road trip experience is exactly what we got going: good music, good conversation, and my car. I don’t need anything else; I promise.”

“If you say so,” Cas’s lips turned up at the corner, in a smile that Dean recognized as pure contentment.

The rest of their drive sped by as they joked, sang along to the music, and reminisced as songs played that reminded them of different points in their lives. Soon enough, they were pulling into Santa Rosa, New Mexico where they decided to call it for a night. They found a mediocre chain hotel with vacancy and pulled off the road. At that point they had been in the car for a little over twelve hours and were in desperate need of some space to stretch out. Driving long distances used to be much easier. Now Dean’s joints popped as he stepped out of the Impala and his legs felt uncomfortably stiff.

Dean checked them in as Cas went to grab dinner. The original plan was to grab food and drinks to celebrate a successful first day, but Dean could feel the exhaustion weighing him down. So, Cas volunteered to pick up takeout instead. After throwing his and Cas’s bags down on the floor, Dean collapsed on the bed. Instantly he longed for his memory foam as the springs of the cheap mattress poked against his back. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure it would be a big enough problem to keep him awake as he was so damn tired.

As he was beginning to nod off, he heard the door to the room click open and was met with the intoxicating smell of greasy takeout.

“Honey, I’m home!” Cas greeted cheerfully. “And I brought pie.”

Dean shot up from his spot on the bed and kissed Cas in thanks. “God, I love you.”

“Are you talking to me or the food?”

“Why not both?” He asked, his mouth already full of fries.

“Touché.” Cas laughed and began digging in as well. He joined Dean on the bed, with their knees touching as he flipped on the television and found a movie for them to watch. They ate in a peaceful quiet, both engrossed in the movie.

Once the food was gone and the slices of pie were eaten, they both began tiredly stripping down to their boxers.

Dean watched with a different form of hunger in his eyes as Cas undressed.

“I can feel you watching me.” He chided, bending over to put his discarded clothes back in his bag.

“Of course, I am. I have a sexy boyfriend who is undressing right in front of me,” He murmured, wrapping his arms around Cas. Cas leaned back into the touch, letting out a soft sigh. Dean began peppering kisses along Cas’s jaw, pausing only to suck on the sensitive spot below his ear. Cas let out a quiet whimper at that and closed his eyes. Dean continued kissing down his neck to his shoulders when he paused to fight a yawn breaking to the surface.

Cas laughed and the tension immediately lifted. “C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

“I don’t wanna,” Dean grumbled. Yet he allowed himself to be pulled to bed anyway.

“You can have your way with me tomorrow, I promise. But for now, sleep.”

Dean hummed and pulled Cas’s arm around his waist, so they were spooning. All previous annoyances about the crappy mattress were pushed from his head and quickly replaced with thoughts of Cas as he felt a soft kiss press to the back of his neck. With that, he allowed himself to lose consciousness and fall into a deep, happy sleep.

Author’s Note: Surprise, I decided to post the chapter two days early! Originally I planned on the whole road trip and Sam's graduation taking place in one chapter but it's turning out to be much longer than I anticipated. So I'll be breaking it up over the next chapter or two.

I also decided to change Sam's law school from Stanford to UCLA for the purpose of the road trip because Stanford would have been another 5 hours from L.A. and this just made it less complicated. Next chapter you can expect some smut, more road-tripping shenanigans and Sam! Please let me know what you think so far!

#destiel #deancas #destiel fanfiction #Destiel fanfic #destiel fluff #dean and cas #fanfiction #dean winchester #castiel #angst #deans top 13 zepp traxx #read on ao3 #supernatural fanfiction

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meloncubedradpops · 3 years

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Repo! The Corona Opera: Final Countdown

This is the third and final installment of Repo: The Corona Opera. In the first piece, I made the argument that the surreal events we are experiencing in 2020 remind me of the world in the movie Repo! the Genetic Opera. My second essay compared the characteristics of fascism with the same movie. Here we will tie together ideas in both works to highlight a dark path that America is on, based on what we know about Repo!, in the hopes that we can reject the evils of those who are sacrificing our health and safety for their own selfish reasons.

When I began thinking about this movie through the lenses of COVID-19, I saw uncanny patterns that just years ago seemed like an exaggerated storytelling. Millions of people dying from organ failure. Yeah, but how?

Then 2020 happened. Oh, that's how. Sure the disease doesn't affect everyone in the same way, but its wrath and potential to harm are tremendous. The death toll in the United States alone is, as of today, is 231,000. At least, that is the death toll we are know so far. It will take time when the dust settles and we can analyze the excess death data to truly know how many of our fellow Americans have died.

And while our world does not currently emulate those opening comic scenes in Repo, the impact from the sudden loss of life will be felt for a long time. There are a lot of really great themes in Repo: the concept of the family, drug addiction, the impact of corporate monopolies, and let's not forget it's a gothic coming-of-age story too. I am going to highlight three concepts that weave together our current reality with the world of Repo: the parallels of the Trump and Largo family, the Graverobber as the symbolic "other", and organ repossessions is genocide.

As mentioned in my previous entry, I highlighted the ways that Rotti Largo is a fascist. I went into detail supporting the argument that his company GeneCo holds tremendous and unyielding power in the city we see in the movie. And despite his efforts to save humanity from extinction, his assumed heirs and blood-related children are nothing short of entitled mediocrity. I will draw many parallels between President Donald Trump and Rotti Largo throughout the duration of this essay, but let's take a few minutes to talk about their children. Believe it or not, this meme was made by myself and my friend FOUR years ago, almost to the day!

But unlike 2016, I had no idea that I'd find multiple comparisons to draw upon. And frankly, if we all knew how bad this presidency would be, for both America and the rest of the world, we might have made less jokes from our complacency. I ask the the real question though, which Trump and Rotti offspring are most alike?

Now, I've wanted to do this thought exercise since the inception of my essays. The surface level combinations would look something like, Amber and Ivanka (since they're both women, obvs), Donald Trump JR as Luigi (oldest child), and Eric Trump as Pavi ("you're just his useless brother!").

However my boyfriend raised a great point that had me rethink this: Donald Trump Jr is ACTUALLY Amber Sweet. When I took out the gender aspect out of the equation, it made so much more sense. In my next point, I will go into drug addiction in a much more dignified manner. But let's just take a moment here to consider the following.

We know that Amber Sweet is addicted to two things in life: surgery and pain killing drugs to make surgery bearable. Amber Sweet's character provides an incredible insight to the daily life of the people in Repo. If you subtract the Zydrate Anatomy scene, you would hardly even know that zydrate is devastating lives of the people addicted to it. We hear about zydrate in the graveyard as a commercial and the media spends its first opportunity asking Rotti about zydrate's "use and abuses". After Sweet becomes a no-show in the presser, we quickly learn that she runs a support group for fellow addicts, or at least she is supposed to.

How does this relate to Trump Jr? Quite simply, many are speculating that Trump Jr abuses cocaine. The most compelling evidence is his speech during the Republican National Convention. Now, obviously we don't have solid evidence that he is indeed consuming and abusing cocaine, and quite frankly if he is, that would not be incredibly surprising or even a huge deal.

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But the conversation doesn't end here. President Donald Trump did not hesitate to bring up former vice president Joe Biden's son Hunter Biden and his battle with addiction during the first Presidential Debate. It was a low jab, especially considering that the United States is going through a crippling opioid crisis, which he even admits is exacerbated by covid-19 and related lockdowns. Both Donald Trump and Rotti Largo exploit their own children in this manner. I mean, Donald Trump helped fucked up the Trump Foundation where his children were held prominent positions, which was caught stealing from a charity intended to help children with cancer! Every time we see Donald Trump Jr on our doom-screens, we get another glimpse into Jr's downward spiral. And with every additional crime that all of president Trump's children become implicated in, the more and more we can see that this family is rotten to the core.

If Trump Jr is Amber Sweet, then Ivanka is Luigi. In Repo, Luigi can be described as nothing short of a homicidal maniac. I am not saying that Ivanka commits murder, at least not directly, but she does hold a lot of power in the White House. Spend any time learning about the machinations of the White House, particularly in the early days, and you will learn Ivanka competed with Melania for a voice in the administration, and still works for the White House today. Even if you exclude all of the shady business ties, such as the dozens of Chinese patents (including for voting machines!!!) Ivanka has filed, clearly the boundaries of nepotism do not exist for this family. Luigi somehow kills multiple people in the movie and faces no consequences for it. How can this be? Obviously corruption, but that is too simple. If there were multiple checks and balances at one point that would have forced Luigi to face justice for his crimes, they have obviously failed to come to roost in the movie. The obvious common denominator between today and the world of Repo is that those who want power will do anything to obtain and maintain it. Does the public know about every murder committed by Luigi? Does the public know about every crime committed by Ivanka (and also by proxy her husband Jared Kushner, who by the way, failed to pass mandatory security clearances but still has access to the intelligence of our government)? Jared intentionally made it difficult for many of the states hit hardest by covid-19 in the early weeks to acquire the necessary medical supplies because the electorate did not vote for Trump in 2016. That. IS. MURDER. Just as Luigi calls the common citizens in Repo "filthy mice", “Jrvanka” (and the Right at greater) frames the nation as two groups: us and THEM. Luigi is much less calculated, but the comparisons are there. If given the chance, the Trump and Largo family will kill because of their sociopathy, greed, and egos.

Admittedly I don't have as compelling of a comparison for Eric Trump and Pavi. However I will say that both Pavi and Eric do the bidding for their father's empire, and I would also argue that both feel like they have to compete to get a modicum of attention and love from a paternal figure devoid of basic empathy. And at the end of the day, they do not reject their father's tyranny. And honestly that is enough of a comparison for me.

Last but not least, I can't ignore the fact that the official Republican Party platform for the 2020 election is loyalty to Trump in the absence of any other political or philosophical idea. A majority of the speakers at the Republican National Convention were members of his family. Their pitch to Americans is “Just Trust Us”. However, a quarter million Americans aren't here to agree or disagree with that statement. With each passing day, more and more Americans are getting sick, to the tune of tens of thousands of cases a day on average currently. The Largo family and GeneCo are not much different. Remember that scene in 21st Century Cure where Shilo and Graverobber are in a mass grave where we can see truck loads of humans being added to the pile of corpses?

The only real thing separating the corpses from the rest of the city is a poorly constructed brick wall and the years of propaganda that normalizes what I imagine would be a terrible pungent smell of death.

The entire Trump family came into the first presidential debate without masks. The president was literally sick with a virus that statistically speaking, could kill his opponent; and he was on stage shedding this incredibly contagious virus screaming and shouting, spreading his droplets everywhere. The Trump family failed to show up early enough to be tested for covid before the debate.

This was not an accident. Jared Kushner bragged to journalist Bob Woodward back in April that Trump was going to take the country "back from scientists". As of this past weekend, we learned that Trump is floating around the idea of firing our nation's leading disease expert Anthony Fauci in a time where our cases, deaths, and hospitalizations from covid-19 are surging. It is almost grotesquely poetic how similar this is to GeneCo. GeneCo is a company in the healthcare industry, but they exploit the worst parts of society, which I will go into very soon. And in its effort to achieve maximum quarterly profits, the ends always justify the means, even if that results in fascism and excess death/suffering. Rotti's body guards kill the doctor who gives him his grim diagnosis. Trump didn't kill the doctors treating him during his recovery with covid, but information we got from the White House doctors were straight up WEIRD. We witnessed a Gentern being killed by Luigi in the Mark It Up Scene for no other reason besides existing in the proximity of him. Trump has spread misinformation about how there's more money to be made when a doctor declares a death as a covid death. I am finding it hard to see the difference. I think I've made my point regarding the parallels of the Trump and Largo family quite clearly, but you may see additional points I bring up as the rest of my essay unfolds.

Society is complex with more nuance than we give it credit to. The different ways that various groups of people interact with are endlessly interesting, and one of the reasons I love Repo so much is because there's an incredible amount of unpacking that you can do, even in the absence of written dialogue about it.

If you don't know, Repo started out as a story originally penned as "The Necromerchant's Debt", which gave the Graverobber character a more active role in the world crafted by Darren Smith and Terrace Zdunich. When watching the movie Repo! The Genetic Opera, the Graverobber is certainly a character seen in multiple scenes, but in a lot of ways, his importance is left out. An entire scene was cut from the film, see Needle Through a Bug below if you're interested.

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Regardless the parts that we do see are still greatly impactful. Graverobber is essentially the symbolized "other" living in a world that is greatly stratified by social class, and he's doing what he can to survive.

Now if you have been living on this planet we call Earth and have ever paid attention ever, you probably have noticed that there are a lot of power structures that influence the resources and opportunities that aid in our development and maintenance of our needs. The access to being able to elevate ourselves above basic survival are typically contingent upon a few things, one namely our ability to draw a paycheck. As I mentioned in my last essay, so many things went wrong to have what would equivalently be either a drug trafficking felony in today's terms or maybe theft, result in permissible extra-judicial murder. And I am not saying that Trump's bragging of the extra-judicial murder of an ANTIFA activist is at all related, but look at the way Trump compares his dissidents with the way GeneCo treats Graverobbers.

We are experiencing the early stages of economic collapse, millions of people are hungry, soon-to-be evicted, jobless. And yet, the Republicans in power just HAD to rush through a Supreme Court justice. When arguing against lockdowns that would have saved lives, the Right spent countless hours arguing about increase suicide, drug use, poverty, domestic abuse, blah blah blah, you know all the things that were there and as equally as important pre-pandemic? And they did NOTHING to help mitigate this disaster beyond the bill that was passed this spring. The house passed the HEROES Act back in May, and senate majority leader Mitch McConnel declined to take a vote on it.

Never mind the fact that landlords are still expected to pay the banks their mortgages on their investment properties. Never mind the fact that rent wasn't cancelled. Never mind that the Trump administration sought to prevent any oversight into the first bill passed previously to prosecute fraud. So you know, we can make sure the money went to small business owners, and not instead to the many, many crony ties to the administration who were approved for huge amounts of money. Honestly to think about this is kind of sickening, particularly when you relate it back to Repo and my essay I wrote on fascism.

I could probably talk all day about our failure with the "War on Drugs", but I feel like you can probably see based on the efficacy of its policies that drugs still exist and people are still abusing them. I bring this up because the Graverobber's occupation is essentially a drug dealer. However he sells a counterfeit of zydrate derived from the body of a bug who naturally borrow in a corpse's body, which is and also isn't stealing from the corpse / their estate, but is somehow still "bad" enough that you can legally be killed "on site" if a Gene Cop thinks you're harvesting the blue brain goo. I mean this entire concept makes my brain hurt.

The Graverobber, as a concept, is a perfect example of the enemy who is simultaneously the biggest and the least threat, and the only way to stop them is to kill them before they can appeal before the jury of their peers or go to prison to pay for their crimes. And I am sure the propaganda that justifies this is beautifully orchestrated. It literally mimics Russian propaganda, AKA the biggest foreign intelligence threat since, I don’t know, the Cold War? I can picture authoritarian stump speeches now:

"Here the Graverobber who comes in the night, tempting your children. They sell the promise of a good time, but did you know they are raping your daughters for this drug?? They can get your husband hooked on zydrate, and you won't know it's coming until he comes home unrecognizable. These thugs are stealing your grandmother's ring off her corpse, and you will find her half-rotted corpse thrown askew across her tombstone when you go to pay your respects."

And yet Graverobber defends himself:

"Industrialization has crippled the globe (Enjoy GeneCo's day and nighttime formula of Zydrate) Nature failed as technology spread (Ask a gentern if Zydrate is right for you) And from this wake a market erected (Buying Zydrate from an unlicensed source is illegal) An entire city built on top of the dead! And you can finance your bones And your kidneys For every market a submarket grows But best you be punctual With making your payments Lest it be you on the concrete below It's quick! It's clean! It's pure! It could change your life! Rest assured! It's the 21st century cure! And it's my job To steal and rob GRAVES!"

He then goes into detail about how this is just the cost of doing business with his modern world. How many of our current and future stories by those who will not make a single sentence in our history books will be casted as enemies of the state who were ultimately just trying to make end's meet? You can deport the illegal immigrant but neglect to prosecute the American company who hired them to work here? How is that much different? If the people in Repo need this drug to cope with the deaths of their loved ones and their livelihoods, then what does that say about the soul of their nation?

If you are still with me at this point, I want to thank you so much. I am going to conclude on a fairly heavy topic, but it is one worth having. Organ repossessions in Repo are genocide and in America, we are currently also committing genocide.

The whole premise of the film is the justification that those who fail to make payments on their surgeries deserve to have their organs repossessed, because what other reality is there with unrelenting end-stage capitalism? People are losing their whole lives as I type this, through no fault of their own. Most Americans cannot afford a $400 emergency expense pre-covid-19. Millions are unable to pay for basic life expenses, such as rent, healthcare or food. Our president specifically shoved a Supreme Court justice because he wants the American Healthcare Act to be deemed too unconstitutional for public policy. Never mind the 100+ million Americans with pre-existing conditions. Never mind the millions who acquire their healthcare through the ACA marketplace. Never mind the fact that we are in a once-in-a-century PANDEMIC. Never mind that we spend more per capital on healthcare than anywhere else in the world. Never mind that the Right does not have ANY sort of plan to replace something in its place. How could MILLIONS die in an organ failure crises in Repo anyways? We already know that the Trump administration already stopped caring about covid deaths when we learned it was hurting people of color disproportionality than the general population. 1 out of 1000 black Americans have died from covid. Reread that sentence. If you don't believe me, go out and seek those facts for yourself. When we think of genocide we think of Hitler killing thousands of people via gas chambers. But there are SO many other steps that lead to the normalization of that.

Undesirables, aka the "others", are easy to discard. Is it a surprise to anyone that ICE gynecologists are removing the uteruses of detainees? I almost made my whole essay about that one controversy alone. Genocide is insidious like that.

"Oh but if she didn't want that hysterectomy, she shouldn't have tried to come to America for a better life, even if that's what my ancestors did."

Of course not, she's the "other", and you're the law-abiding citizen. You were able to afford the extra $30 a month for the upgraded booby package that gave an otherwise unremarkable kidney transplant a fun twist by including breast implants. The orphan who works the streets because his parents died during the plague who needed a new pancreas because insulin became too expensive is threatening your suburbs. Bonus points if the orphan has a hint of melanin in his skin or if your daughter shows favor towards his antics, completely ignoring the fact that his mommy and daddy were killed by preventable disease. I have no idea if this was intentional or not, but look at the makeup of people who get their organs repossessed in Repo and try not to tell me there's a trend. Yes it could have been the coincidence of casting, but nevertheless it is worth mentioning. We don't see many people of color in this movie, but of the few we see, they get murdered by GeneCo/Wallace. And I don't care how stupid coincidences are because that is exactly what is happening with covid-19. The so-called essential, working class citizens (who are disproportionally POC) are putting their whole life on the line to serve everyone else who works at home.

The ends justifies the means, kill enough elderly and the federal government won't have to pay out on social security. Force everyone to get back to work and fuck you if you think you deserve money for the hours you weren't allowed to work (oh and by the way we want to make it so you can't sue for covid-19 related liabilities). Oh you lost your job, "try something new", as told by Ivanka Trump earlier this summer.

My main point is if you let fascism get control, they will normalize genocide and put you in jail for even making the connections of corruption. "Millions of people dead from organ failure, what's adding a few more to the pile in the name of law and order?" "The only good Democrat is a dead Democrat". Once again, I am failing to see the difference.

Okay I threw a lot at you just now, and the fact you made it to the end is a miracle. If you skip around because you have a squirrel brain like me, I thank you as well. The fact we get out of bed everyday and do anything right now is a miracle and I know attention can be finite.

I am writing this on the eve of the United States General election after having wanting to write this since June of this year. I am tired. We are ALL Shiloh right now. Our lives have been on pause. "I must be brave", "I'll capture it", "Run back inside". Yeah girl, same! I haven't talked about her much throughout any of my essays, but I have to give credit where credit is due.

Humans are a resilient creature. We have millions of years of experience on this Earth, and much of our survival has been based on pure dumb luck. But we have blown so many other species out of the water in one way alone, and that is our ability to communicate.

We don't have to let people who exploit our weaknesses control us. The sociopaths who try and run our society did not historically aid in our survival. They didn't care if we ate the mushroom that killed us or would have protected us when threatened by wildlife, it was our tribe. The Right has successfully hijacked that bond between the self and the tribe so that it can fit the needs of sociopathy and greed. It is not normal for a president to tell a nation that "it is what it is" when over 100k citizens die from a preventable disease. Do not let the sociopaths throw us in that tiny pine box in a mighty small drop in a mighty dark plot, hastening the trip to our epilogue. Because every inch you give, they will take a mile and charge you by the hour. Never forget that.

#repo! the genetic opera #repo #shilo wallace #nathan wallace #terrance zdunich #darren smith #gothic #coronavirus #COVID-19 #election #vote #Fascism #politics #donald trump #ivanka trump #eric trump #donald trump junior #republicans #genocide

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autumn-foxfire · 3 years

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I might be wrong 🤔 but I've seen a few people talk about mental health issues and how people get completely free from their crimes because of them... I don't personally agree or prefer not to involucrate myself with mental health having such a big influence on these discussions about the LOV charges, because... First, I know nothing about that, and second, doesn't that depends of what you were experiencing and your country? Not that I don't think it shouldn't be taken into account because that wouldn't be true, but it isn't an instant fix to your crimes, imo. From what I know... it happens when the person who commit that crime wasn't in the best place mentally, like if you had a schizophrenic attack or you had a severe panic attack at the moment. But people like Toga, Spinner, Shigaraki... they would probably be charged either way, I think? Along with Dabi and Compress. Yeah, sure, right now Dabi isn't in the best place and Shigaraki was manipulated, but what about past crimes? Because... Those were actual, personal decisions that were technically planned. The only thing is that their decisions came from a warped version of the world and I don't think that counts as much. It is my belief that usually, people that commit these crimes aren't in the best place, mentally.

I mean, in therapy, when a client confess to murder, the psychologist (depending of the country) usually can't say this kind of information, but if you are someone who is in danger, you have a reason to believe that your client is planning something or your client is probably going to hurt themselves, the first one doesn't really matter and you should call the police. And during Law, I think it also doesn't necessarily eliminate your responsabilities, it only changes the way you are prosecuted-- Like, instead of going to jail, they sent you to a hospital. Something quite similar? Doesn't it depends heavily of those factors?

In Argentina, just like almost every other country from America, I think the Law is or used to be terrible about this and you can walk free out of a lot of crimes, but jus because these things happens it doesn't means that it should 👀 I'm asking since you are a Law student dkdkjd my guess is that there must be a general idea of how the Law works in that area or a common response, even if every country applies it differently-- but I don't really know

Hmmm, in a probable attempt of putting my foot in my mouth and prove I have clue what I’m talking about when it comes to law (...I may be a law student but I never said I was a good one), I always find the discussion of mental health defences for the league to be interesting because while we in the UK have them, it’s not exactly as clear cut as one might think.

Who’s ready for a shoddy UK (EDIT: It’s actually only England and Wales these defences apply to and being a good student I completely forgot this :D) Criminal Law lesson!! (Please note that these defences are for the UK and UK alone and so would probably not apply in any other country, I just think the knowledge might give people a clearer look at how the law handles mental health when it comes to murder).

As you’re probably aware or can guess, murder is the most (or one of the most? I really need to go back over my criminal law stuff T-T) serious charge in criminal law. To be charged with murder in the UK you must have both high actus and mens rea (want to commit the act and having attempted to done so). However, in some cases, you can apply partial defences to the act of murder that mitigate the sentance.

There are two know partial defences in the UK:

- Diminished Responsibility

- Loss of Control

Loss of Control despite what it may sound like doesn’t just include mental health, in fact is has a rather objective element that a reasonable person would have done the same thing in the same circumstances. This usually covers qualifying triggers or fear of violence.

Diminished Responsibility as you can tell by it’s name covers mental health. This defense is entirely subjective as it assumes that the person with the defence has a mental condition that explains why they did what they did. As such, it doesn’t need to the same requirements that Loss of Control needs to be met. In recent years, the scope of Diminished responsibility has been tightened with new laws requesting that their needs to be medical evidence of the mental illness for this defence to be used.

Now... To get to the point. In the case of the League, the defence used for them would be diminished responsibility (because loss of control would probably be shot down in a matter of minutes due to the fact that most of their plans are premeditated) however the issue sadly would be trying to prove to the Judge and Jury that the League have official medical diagnosis that would apply in order to use this defence.

Really, it sounds horrible when you think about it because these defences don’t really seem to cover enough or extreme circumstances (like say those raised in cults or the way Shigaraki was raised?).

My point being that even though the League’s circumstances would surely be considering, because of the extremity of their actions, I actually don’t think any of the applicable murder defences would do them any good.

I think one of the biggest debates brought up when it comes to criminal law is the subjective meaning of “reasonable person”, especially because when murder usually happens, people who commit those murders usually aren’t in the best places mentally to begin with. What’s the cut off? How can we decided that? These are all argument brought up when discussing the issues of our current laws and it’s certainly interesting to think about.

The League’s cases are really interesting because they seem to fall into that grey area of law that doesn’t really have much coverage because to try and cover it could cause floodgates to open that would cause more issues for the courts in the long run.

Truthfully, I don’t think the League have the best bet when it comes to murder defences though there might be certain case law out there that I can’t remember that could help them (at least in the UK justice system.)

Of course, this is just for the UK. BNHA takes place in Japan and their murder defences are probably a lot different.

#bnha #thanks for the ask!!#I probably just put my foot in my mouth #if I did blame my notes that I went over to refresh myself with T-T #bu-2-ny

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antares-8 · 3 years

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How messed-up is it that I feel so guilty for taking time off work to quarantine because I’m showing a couple covid symptoms?

For context: My state is currently a global hotspot. I work with the elderly, going into their homes to help with personal cares, companionship, and cleaning so that they can stay more independent (which often means ‘avoid assisted living facilities/nursing homes’). I have a slightly sore throat, a mild headache (though that was mostly yesterday), and my nose is a bit drippy. I shouldn’t feel guilty for being cautious in those circumstances. Heck, my parents, who are both doctors, agree that I should be tested.

On the other hand, I’ve had similar symptoms before (albeit when we weren’t a global hotspot) and come back negative. I probably just have undiagnosed allergies that flare up every two or so months. Work is already short-staffed enough without me missing shifts.

Then there’s the test thing at the office. Yesterday, I went into the office to get rapid-tested... on a blood-analyzing device that is almost definitely meant to detect antibodies, not antigens. If you’re not familiar, antibody tests draw blood and are not supposed to be used for acute diagnosis because it takes your body some time to develop antibodies. They’re used to detect if you had the virus, not if you currently have it. Antigen tests use nasal swabs and are supposed to be used for acute diagnosis. (There’s a third kind of test that’s apparently the gold standard, but I don’t understand it very well. It doesn’t use blood, though, so the point is moot. From what I can tell, only antibody tests use your blood.) So even though I tested negative on the almost-definitely-antibody test, that doesn’t mean too much.

I’ve tried to get clarification from work about what exactly their test does. I couldn’t get the brand, the producer, or even confirmation on whether it detected antibodies or antigens. They just said that the state had certified its use.

But if it’s an antibody test being used to diagnose the early stages of infection (and I actually understand all this medical stuff correctly), it will give my coworkers a bunch of false negatives. WE WORK WITH THE ELDERLY. And if they got it from the state, then other home care companies are in the same predicament. That’s... that’s dangerous, and as much as I want to believe that the state government knows what it’s doing, we only got a mask mandate last week, and we are a global hotspot.

So I’m quarantining until Sunday (and thank God I’m in a situation that lets me do that), when I have an appointment at a testing center. I’ve also got a doctor’s appointment today where we’re going to discuss if I have allergies or some underlying throat condition. That’s objectively the smartest thing to do, for me and my clients who would very likely die if I infected them. Despite my guilt, that’s me taken care of.

It doesn’t take care of the work probably-antibody test.

Does anybody have advice, or am I just misunderstanding everything and freaking myself out? I’ve got a nasty habit of catastrophizing and would really like to believe that I’m misunderstanding something about the testing process. Do I actually understand antigens/antibodies correctly? (Actually, I should ask my doctor that.) But if I understand everything correctly and work really is giving antibody tests prone to false negatives in the early stages of infection, then what do I do?

The test at work looked like the one used in this article: https://www.tmj4.com/news/coronavirus/officials-antibody-testing-could-be-game-changer-in-fight-against-covid-19. However, I don’t have any details about its actual name, manufacturer, etc.

#coronavirus #home care #public health #testing #is it a problem or am i just panicking again?

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takoyakitenchou · 3 years

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meddling; the good kind

i decided to clear up a few questions abt how Marui Zenji became Bookmaster of WGO in Genesis so ig this is also my commission payment/holiday gift for @polar-stars

in which a double shot of jager (with some help from the nakiri cousins) pretty much cements marui zenji’s future.

If nothing else, Yoshino Yuki knew turkey. Like, really well.

Much to Zenji’s chagrin, the only takeaway he’d gotten from the American history seminar he and the rest of the PSD gang had enrolled in was that the Pilgrims rode a Dutch fluyt to Virginia back in 1620, but they’d decided to turn Christmas into a Polar Star tradition nevertheless. Wait. Massachusetts? Thanksgiving?

After losing pitifully in a game of hangman to Yukihira Souma of all people — seriously, how was the English lang and composition seminar supposed to prepare him to guess “#tarkeyshet” — Zenji had retreated to the corner of the kitchen to sulk and drink Sakaki Sake while Yukihira paraded around fixing an imaginary pair of glasses and knocked back a shot of Smirnoff Watermelon from Kurokiba’s locker at Legislation.

“Those specs really were for nothing,” Yuki grinned as she pulled him to his feet, took away his solo cup, and handed him a masher. “Come on, Marui. You can vent at the potatoes.”

Zenji aggressively articulated his ire at said potatoes to the point where Yuki had to yank the bowl from him. “The hell, are you trying to make extract? Go kill another turkey if you’re feeling murderous.”

“I’m fine,” sighed the dark-haired chef, massaging the bridge of his nose. “It’s out of my system now. But the sake is not.”

Yuki leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Sacrifice one battle and you’ll win the war.”

“Now since when have you been all philosophical?”

Without missing a beat, Yuki countered, “Since you got all mopey. Now help me bring the turkey out.”

Just then, Nakiri Erina entered the kitchen after knocking on the doorframe. The first seat took one look at Yuki with her mouth basically on Zenji’s ear and dropped her vodka. “I apologize for the intrusion!”

She was already halfway out the door when Yuki and Zenji bellowed, “This isn’t what you think it is!”

Erina glanced doubtfully at the space (or lack thereof) between the Polar Star originals. “Um… in that case. Yoshino-san, do you mind if I talk to Marui-kun for a moment?”

“Not at all,” Yuki replied, and Erina was too distracted to notice the slightest inflection of irritation in the teal-eyed girl’s voice as she took the turkey out of the kitchen.

“How may I be of assistance, Nakiri-san?” Zenji asked, shifting his glasses and sitting on a kitchen stool.

“I was talking to my mother earlier today,” Erina said after picking up her cup, a diplomatic air automatically washing over the area. “She was wondering when you would be available for an interview sometime in the next few days over winter break.”

Zenji gave a prominently uncharacteristic “Eh?”

With a thin smile, Erina continued, “My mother would like to have you intern with her so she can judge if I was right when I told her you’re going to be the next WGO bookmaster. I remember you mentioned something about memorizing all of the WGO guides in first year?”

Zenji blinked once. Twice. “You’re kidding me.”

“No, I am not,” the heiress replied. “I never kid.”

He gestured at her. “That was a kid just now.”

“Besides the point, Marui-kun. My mother would like me to give you her phone number so you can text her your schedule availabilities directly.” Then she added, “Also, that’s more convenient for me because I don’t have to be a mediator.”

At this, Zenji’s eyes bugged out to the size of his fucking glasses. The WGO bookmaster — and Nakiri Erina’s mother to boot — wanted to give him her phone number?

Marui Zenji needed medical care hella fast.

“Um… I’m available whenever she is…?”

Erina shook her head. “I wouldn’t get used to it, but she’s catering to you.”

A sheen of sweat broke out on Zenji’s forehead. He pushed back his bangs and gave a long, pronounced exhale. “In five seconds, Nakiri-san, I will wake up and be so disappointed that I miss classes for the first time in my entire life.”

“You have a perfect attendance record, don’t you?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Perfect. That means you can afford to skip a day without getting detention. Unlike me and Yukihira.” Erina tapped her chin thoughtfully as Zenji made an indignant noise, then as if to deter any individuals that may have been eavesdropping, said in a low voice, “The one stipulation for giving you my mother’s phone number is that you ask Yoshino-san on a date.”

Zenji promptly fell off the stool. “Say what now?”

The eavesdropping individual made her debut just then. “Yes, well, as official relationship counselor of Nakiri Mansion and Polar Star, I am privy to some very public confidential information that you and Yoshino-san are both absolute nuts for each other. So I am prescribing you the following action: get the hell on with it already.”

The Nakiri cousins looked extremely pleased with themselves.

“I agree with Alice,” Erina said primly. “It’s pretty obvious how much she likes you. And since we’re both extremely well-versed in the subtleties of romance, I do believe we’re more than qualified to make this diagnosis.”

“Oh, and look, Marui-kun. Your ears are turning red. Actions speak louder than words. Your silence speaks volumes.”

Zenji squinted at Erina. “Nakiri-san, am I correct to assume that even if I already had the Bookmaster’s phone number, we’d still be having this conversation?” “Duh,” said Alice. “Now’s your chance, Marui-kun.”

“I think I’d rather lose to Yukihira in another game of hangman,” he said nervously.

At this, Alice gave a sympathetic smile. “You, my friend, do not have the emotional capacity of a brick, unlike Ryo and Yukihira, so you should have nothing to worry about. Come on.” Alice grabbed Zenji’s wrist and yanked him to his feet. “She’s in the dining hall. Have a shot if you need the liquid courage.” She passed him a cup of Jager.

The scholar ran a hand through his bangs in an attempt to organize his hair, despite the fact that he already had the neatest cut in like… a ten-mile radius.

“This is for the Bookmaster,” Zenji said, trying to convince himself more than the cousins.

“No, it’s really not,” Alice replied. “Now get to it. Clock is ticking.”

“Also, every second you spend stalling is technically another second you’re ghosting the Bookmaster.”

Zenji exploded into action. He threw back the Jager and sprinted out of the kitchen at a velocity nobody would’ve dared imagine possible for someone of his figure… or his alc tolerance.

“That worked better than I thought it would,” Erina mused.

“Yukihira’s rubbing off on you,” Alice intoned. “You sounded a lot like him just now.”

Rolling her eyes and fighting the blush, the first seat waved off the statement. “As if I would ever be associated with anything influenced by his plebeian mouth.”

“Like… your tongue?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Alice grinned and tapped her cup against her cousin’s. “Damn right I will, Erina. No need to emphasize the truth.”

The others were all gathered in the dining hall by the time the Nakiri cousins emerged from the kitchen. Zenji was — as expected — sweating as he attempted to approach Yoshino Yuki.

Souma and his strangely acute senses noted exactly what was happening (read as Erina had already filled him in on the details of the plotcounseling session), and he vaguely motioned for Yuki to turn around.

“Yoshino-san,” Zenji began, and those that knew what was going on were all surprised at how steady his voice was despite the fact that he’d just drank what had to be two normal shots of herbal liquor at an ungodly speed. “If you’re available, I was just wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me?”

Yuki’s eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs. “Wait, what?” The rest of the dorm gave an excited whoop.

“… to the Polar Star garden…?”

“GODDAMMIT, MARUI,” they all squawked. Yuki managed an awkward grin and the will to live utterly disappeared from Marui Zenji.

Erina and Alice exchanged a glance. “Call the jet.”

“Gotcha. Ryo, can you fetch the Eclipse, please?”

“It’s on the roof already,” drawled Alice’s former aide. “Come on, Marui,” Ryo continued. “You’re gonna be like the rest of us by the time the sun comes up.”

“The hell does that mean?” sighed the dejected erudite as Ryo dragged him to the rooftop staircase in the back of the building.

“We’re destroying your perfect attendance record so you don’t have more honors cords than all the Elite Ten members combined at the graduation ceremony. Don’t even think about complaining. This is for our—I mean, your—good.”

The Nakiri cousins herded Yuki out of the dining hall after him, and the rest of the social club followed.

“In you go,” Ryo ordered once they were in front of the jet. He damn near picked up the chef who was probably half his weight and chucked Zenji through the hatch. Yuki was prodded on board after him, bleating timid complaints the entire time.

Ryo briefly entered the jet and they heard him instruct the pilot, “Take them to the Nakiri resort in Kobe. Don’t let them come back until tomorrow evening, am I clear?”

“Yessir,” replied the pilot, and then Ryo jumped out and the engines roared to life.

The inhabitants of Nakiri Mansion looked rather pleased with themselves as the jet departed Totsuki campus.

“You think that did it for their first date?” Ryo asked the heiresses.

“Duh,” Alice said with a flippant wave. “Erina and I are professionals. Now, we should start planning for their wedding. It’s Yoshino Yuki getting married, so teal dresses for the bridesmaids should do it.”

Erina nodded seriously. “I’ll start tasting cakes and contacting florists. The wedding’s going to be in Malibu, right?”

“You read my mind, Erina. Turns out we’re the same person after all.”

“Hell no.”

Ryo watched the cousins dive into all-out wedding prep mode over Christmas dinner and held back a smile—whether this was out of the mellowed amusement that arose from watching them bicker like five-year-olds or out of sympathetic pity for the involuntary fiances was up to debate, but it was a smile nevertheless, and that was all that mattered.

And the rest, of course, was history.

#marui zenji #yoshino yuki #maryu #shokugeki no soma

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spiltscribbles · 4 years

Text

Because It’s All Worth While

~I~

Henry loves his mother most like this.

There’s flower in her pale hair, and dimples on her cheeks, and she’s so happy. Henry remembers Be a calling her the prettiest lady in the whole wide world, knows that it’s true.

“Careful little love, or else all the ingredients will spill out and we’ll need to start all over again,” Catherine toots adoringly, laughter coloring her words and the tinkling ringing in the space between them.

It’s quiet in the castle tonight, mostly everyone— including Grams— have been in bed for hours, but Catherine refused, told Henry that it’s his Seventh Birthday eve and they need to celebrate properly, even if Beatrice is still away in her oh so posh boarding school, and Philip’s with Arthur at a shoot in the Scottish foothills until tomorrow morning. “We need to have our own fun before they return!” She had crowed, and Henry had beamed, he misses the rest of them terribly, but admittedly is all too excited to get to have his mother for himself for so many hours on end.

“Like this?” Henry asks, loosens his grip on the spatula as he stirs the mix , intent on doing it right and making her proud.

“Precisely my darling,” Catherine chortles, thumbs at his cheek dotingly while reaching over to the kettle to pour the pair of them a fresh spot of tea, adding an extra helping of sugar to her own glass. “After this why don’t we go off and you can play me that new lullaby your father has been teaching you, yeah?”

Frantic and disbelieving, Henry nods readily, can hardly wait to show her how much better he’s gotten. Catherine always has the brightest, most wonderful ideas, sometimes he forgets as much. Sometimes she wakes up with no twinkle in her eyes, or song in her heart, and those days are the absolute worst, the days when Henry feels helpless and so sad because there’s nothing he could do to make it better, to make her iridescent again.

“Those days are alright to have my little love,” she had crooned to him when he told her as much earlier that morning, his head tucked beneath her chin and his narrow body nestled into her embrace. “People just feel sad sometimes, and it’s up to the ones who care for them to remind them that they’re loved, and that they will be there once the darkness fades and the sun begins to rise on their hearts once again.”

Henry had understood her words, had found them as magical as every other part of her, but he can’t help that a small— downright selfish— part of him was thankful when she woke up this morning singing Sinatra, and peppering him with sugarplum kisses. He’s happy that he gets to have her for all that she is, but he most understands her like this.

~II~

Henry’s never been this angry before.

He’s literally shaking from it! Never mind the fact that it’s the tale end of a rather brutal winter and he’s soaking wet…. Okay fine, that might be part of it. But even still, Henry is furious and Philip is a God forsaken prat and he hates him more than he could’ve ever imagined hating anyone.

The pounding music from outdoors still hums around him once he’s inside Mertylewood, and Henry can still catch snippets of conversation if he listens hard enough, but he doesn’t care, he wants everything to just go quiet. He never wanted this big old party for himself, or to invite all the blokes from Eton, or to have to deal with Philip and his ego that takes up the entirety of the European continent.

Henry wanted none of this God damn it!

There are tears welling up in his eyes now, and he can feel his face going blotchy, and Henry has no idea what to do, he feels petrified, like his every breath is suspended, like his every step can activate a landmine, like nothing matters. All Henry’s been able to think about for days now are those damn test results, and the tired look on the doctor’s face, and the weak smile his father sported while breaking the news. The news about the cancer, The news that it’s already at the third stage. The news that they’re taking aggressive measures to get rid of it. All Henry could think of is the crack in his father’s voice when he said there’s a sixty percent success rate, when he promised that everything will be fine.

Henry had never fathomed in a thousand years that he would have ever seen that sort of fear splayed out all over his father’s features. His father is fucking Arthur Fox. His father is a real world superman. He’s not weak or fragile or scared. He’s God damn Arthur Fox! He’s the strongest, most brave person Henry has ever known. Something like this, cancer, it can’t take that away. Not Cancer! Not something so mundane, so ordinary, so human. It can’t just scuff out the vigor in his bones, or vitality in his crystal blue eyes. The eyes that made the whole world feel safe. The eyes he passed onto Henry. The eyes henry’s swiping at with a feverish hand right now.

He hears the glass door starting to slide open, tries to muster a smile for Pez but is shocked when he turns around to be met by those aforementioned crystal blue eyes instead. Henry momentarily forgets that’s he’s officially seventeen now, he can’t leap into his father’s arms and sob into his shoulder anymore. Not now. Not when Henry’s half a head taller than him, and not when there’s a crowd of his peers just passed them outdoors. Not when Arthur looks so breakable that a simple gust of wind could tip him right over.

“You aught to be resting,” Henry says in lieu of a greeting, words wobbly and shoulders slumped.

“Come now kiddo, your ma would like a cup of tea and I reckon you need something to warm you up after that show.”

Henry ducks his head, equal parts abashed and ashamed for acting out like that, guided by his emotions over reason. So he doesn’t argue, just follows suit while grabbing a towel to begin drying off.

“Oy Haz,” Arthur starts with a clucking to his tongue, scoops a spoonful of honey for each of their drinks as they sit around the kitchen island. “Pushing your brother into the pool in front o all those people!”

“He started it,” Henry points out, knows that he sounds petulant but doesn’t care. He hates it when his father, his hero, is upset at him, and at least that’s the truth.

“He’s your brother Haz,” Arthur presses, levels him with a glance before taking a sip of his glass.

“He’s an arse!” Henry corrects, feels the curves of his nails biting into his palm with the sudden anger that washes over him.

“Henry you don’t mean that,” Arthur soothes, clamps a hand onto one of his shoulders and squeezes for good measure.

“He thinks that he’s God’s gift to fucking mankind!” Henry very nearly bellows. “He prances around here acting like he knows what’s best for everyone! Like just because he’s Grams favorite that he’s the anointed one! Like he’s the man of the family! Like you— Like you,” Henry’s voice get’s caught on something like a sob and he can’t bare to continue on ranting, just swings his head the opposite direction and begins to quake silently. He won’t say it, he can’t say it.

“Like I won’t be able to do much of anything soon enough?” Arthur finishes for him, speaking the thought out loud without even flinching, so callas and sparing and no, this feels too much like surrender and Henry won’t except that! Not from him! Not now! Not ever!

“This is all going to go away,” Henry tells him in as stable of a voice as he could muster.

“It’s okay if it’s not, Henry you know that, don’t you my boy.” Arthur gently prods, but that only makes it so a fresh round of tears begin to flood in Henry’s eyes, so he stops talking right then, opts to walk over to him and tug him into a hug, and they both feel helpless together and Henry hates everything so much.

“You know Haz, Philip might be the oldest, but that doesn’t make you any less the man of the family.”

“It makes it so my crown ranking is quite a ways lower,” Henry laughs wetly, which makes Arthur throw back his head too.

“I’m serious my boy, without you the family’s just floating around with no direction, you give us that, the sound one right along with your mother.” His gaze is boring straight into Henry’s now and he looks so proud and so honest and so loving. And Henry would really like to tell him. Henry would like to tell him about the school friend of Philip’s who was his very first just a week ago when Henry was so reckless and lost and afraid for Arthur’s diagnosis. He’d like to tell him about the boys he’s kissed before that, and the boys who will surely follow. He’d like to tell him how most days he feels so out of sorts, so wrong footed while in this palace and the suffocating nature of it all. He’d like to tell him that he’s so afraid of what this means, but hates the hiding, love isn’t a fucking crime and he’s sick of acting like it is.

Henry doesn’t say any of that though, because if there’s one thing he knows about himself it’s that he’s a coward and a pitiful excuse for a prince.

Arthur’s features go tight— more contemplative— for a moment, and Henry’s terrified he heard him without a word being exchanged.

“I’m so proud of you Henry, so so proud. Nothing would ever change that. I love you more than the sun and stars, you know that, don’t you my boy?” Henry doesn’t answer, focuses on a point over his shoulder and wills himself not to begin crying again like a damn baby. “I’m gonna be fine Henry, I promise, don’t be scared on my account okay? I want you to live every part of life as freely and ferociously as you can, alright? It’s all worth while Haz, all of it, the good and bad, it’s what makes the world so beautiful.”

Henry nods, once and quick.

“Promise me Henry, please,” and that’s the first time Henry looks at his father and thinks desperate. Desperate to live. Desperate for Henry to agree. Desperate for things he doesn’t even know yet.

“I promise dad.”

They share another hug before Arthur guides him back to the stool and they drink their teas and they talk about everything that doesn’t matter and they don’t go outside for the rest of the evening. And it’s only sorta wonderful because Henry feels it now, the clock that’s ticking. He knows it in his heart that this’ll be one of the last birthdays he’ll ever spend with his father, and that’s so damn tragic.

~III~

Henry’s childhood was colored with laughter and painted with sunlight, composed of days playing pretend with an ever ebullient Beatrice— Bea. Bea who was strung together with cotton candy chortles and a steel sort of resolve. Whenever they were making believe she was always the pirate captain, or princess warrior or the best knight there ever was. Henry had always been the prince in danger waiting for her to save him.

Henry still thinks Bea can save him from anything he needs, but knows that it’s time for him to finally return the favor.

“Do you remember those wretched cinnamon scones Grams had catered for your thirteenth birthday?” Bea asks him as they promenade down the busy London streets. Her chestnut curls fall limply over her shoulders and her dark eyes are glassy with an emotion he can’t parse out. She’s always known every layer there was to Henry, had never needed to ask, she just knew, like some sort of superpower, but she’s never let Henry see the chinks to her own armor. Not until nearly half a year ago now, when he grabbed her shoulders and told her he couldn’t take losing her too. When Henry found her outside that club lost off something he couldn’t figure out and when he saw the way her papery skin clung to her bones and how the circles beneath her eyes were as dark as the night sky. Henry hadn’t seen any of her hurt until he was suddenly exposed to all of it, all at once, in such a horrendous way. He shouldn’t be surprised that Bea’s gone back to building up her walls, firmly placing her self back into the older sibling slot, but Henry doesn’t like it anymore. Would rather see her beginning to slip, at least that way he could help much quicker than before.

“Do you remember us soaking over a dozen of them to put’m in Pip’s trainers?” Henry says, is thankful when she squawks with laughter.

Another pregnant silence collapses over them, and Henry isn’t sure how to crack it. This’s her first full week out of the rehab center, had said she made it pointedly so that she’d be here for his nineteenth birthday. But the thing is that it’s also the first birthday since their dad’s death, and since Catherine’s dark days became more often than not. Pip’ off at service and Grams never really counted in the first place. So now the pair of them are just meandering the familiar blocks and trying not to think about anything that hurts.

Jesus Fucking Christ is that more difficult than Henry had thought.

“oh!” Bea perks suddenly, begins to tug on Henry’s arm while racing down through the throng of people.

“Oy, have you gone mad!” Henry cries, suddenly understands once they stop in an open park filled with all sorts of different pugs.

“It’s an adoption spree!” Bea explains unnecessarily, but it’s the first time in too long that she’s got a smile that touches her eyes and Henry has missed that look so achingly that he can’t find it in his heart to argue.

“I can see that,” he says instead, flinches back when a particularly loud Labrador barks their way.

“Oh how precious!” Bea croons, picks up one to dote on with kisses.

“That’s unsanitary,” Henry feels it important to say, is answered by Bea’s waggling tongue and another round of barking by the dog in her arms.

“Charming, the both of you,” he sniffs, walks off in the opposite direction so to toss out his old drink and wait for her in the cafe down the way. That is until Henry stumbles across a rather small pup, one with such big brown eyes and the most adorable floppy ears, and the cutest little button nose.

“He’s a rescue,” the woman at the counter says, appearing seemingly out of nowhere and making it so Henry stutters back.

“Oh, erm a rescue?” he asks, pale brows hiked.

“An orphan we found on the streets, couldn’t be more than a couple months old,” she continues with a sage nod. “All of the animals are up to date on their shots, so you can hold’m if you want? Promise he doesn’t bite.”

Henry doesn’t think twice before readily agreeing, a small part of him privately thinks it’s a humorous sight that this oblivious woman is handing the Prince of England an orphaned Beagle on his birthday, but most of Henry is to busy fawning over the pup and how precious he is.

“He likes you,” the woman notices with a kind smile, and Henry feels himself flush with glee.

“We’ll take him!” Bea, as omnipotent as ever, tells her while passing over the black card she keeps snuggled in her bra of all places. “Consider it a birthday gift baby brother,” she winks and Henry thanks her, beyond touched.

“Oh wonderful! Now what name should I put on the certificate?”

Henry thinks of his father. Of him telling him that it’s all worth while. Henry thinks of bright Sunday mornings spent with his family when he was being brought up, of his mother’s laughter and trading barbs with Philip and Bea. He thinks of his father’s low but melodic voice singing his favorite toons.

There's a starman waiting in the sky He'd like to come and meet us But he thinks he'd blow our minds There's a starman waiting in the sky He's told us not to blow it 'Cause he knows it's all worthwhile

“David Bowie please.”

The woman looks slightly confused as she walks off to collect the correct paper work, but there’s a sort of serene understanding that comes over Bea, and he knows he’s made the right choice.

She stands on the tips of her toes to peck a kiss to his cheek, and Henry folds into her embrace.

“You can breathe again Henry, everyone’s safe and Dad’s still with us. Just breathe,” she tells him quietly, and it’s the first time that the tension he’s been carrying around in his chest begins to loosen.

~IV~

The club was pulsing with the typical brand of ear shattering music, a throng of raucous twenty somethings, and the pungent cocktail of sweat and ax body spray that always irritates Henry’s sensibilities. But even so, Pez— in his newly acquired pink pastel suit that matches his hair and accents his blue nails— was the loudest presence there. Henry’s thankful that he gets to end his twenty-third birthday away from all of those strangers, and instead spend it with his greatest mate in Pez’s high rise, nursing a cup of tea to shake off his buzz, and laughing at Pez’s good natured ribbing.

“I’ve got a meeting early tomorrow with Philip and some of the other investment holders,” Henry says in explanation for his less than celebratory mood for the fifth time that night, only half as many times as Pez has rolled his eyes at him.

“’S your damn birthday you wanker! Philip can piss off!”

“Would you like to tell him that, or shall I?” Henry asks with an owlish blink, takes another sip of his jasmine tea.

“You didn’t even get any tale!” Pez continues to lament, forearm over his eyes and collapsed dramatically over his sectional like he were on some sort of Downton Abbey spinoff.

“You’re being lewd,” Henry toots with a snicker, admittedly still pretty sloppy from his pair of gin and tonics.

“Oy don’t even front H!” Pez harrumphs, more than a bit surly. “That bloke from your Shakespeare class was eyeing you all moony the whole damn evening!”

“So,” Henry sniffs.

“I thought you were just sleeping around with Alexander? Not exclusive with him!”

Okay Pez does not have the right to do that, to make Henry go flushed and make his stomach tumble itself into knots at the thought of Alex, at the memory of their lips wrestling with one another that first night, of Alex on his knees, of their Parisian assignation that felt as if it leaped right out of the pages of his most beloved novels. As if Jane Austen was penning his romances here on out.

It’s still surreal, unbelievable that this crush he’s been fostering for so long has actually manifested into something real, something so wild and splendid and miraculous. Something tangible.

But no, Henry needs to shake those thoughts out of his head, carve back his clear and distinct boundaries. He needs to stay safe.

“Of course we’re not, erm— We’re not exclusive.”

“You just passed up a sure lay for no reason then?” Pez needles, and Henry can read it for what it is. He sees the intent behind his eyes, and the warning in his tone. He’s known Henry since they were fifteen year old gits, knows him better than even Bea. He was there when Arthur died, and was there when Henry learned to be alright with it. He was there when Henry first took note of Alex Claremont Diaz ands listened to Henry waxing poetic and spewing curses over him for years on end at this point. Pez was there only a few weeks ago when Henry told him about their first actual rendezvous with a frothy voice of disbelief and his eyes glazed over with glee.

Henry knows that Pez is trying to protect him from feeling too much before taking account of the inevitable consequences.

“It’s only because of my meeting tomorrow Pez, nothing more. Alex had nothing to do with the decision,” he can taste the lie as it spills out and he knows that Pez can detect it as simple as breathing. Henry’s heart stilts, waits for the blow Pez is surely about to swing, the reminder of Henry’s position and the caution of being safe with his heart. Neverlands are only meant for bursts of joy and not for forever, Henry knows that, but maybe Pez saying it out loud will help.

“It’s alright you know,” he says instead, completely betraying Henry in his time of need. “It’s alright if Alexander’s the reason, maybe that means something, maybe you can let yourself—“

“Good night Pez,” Henry cuts in before he could finish that sentence, can hardly imagine having that argument now, not when everything feels so tenuous already. Like Henry’s finally soaring, finally breathing like Bea advised so long ago. “I’ve got to get up early.”

“Alright H,” Pez says, frowning and a little sad but Henry doesn’t bare to focus on it for long.

~V~

Henry wakes up on the morning of his twenty-fifth birthday by feeling the sunlight peering through the window and panning across his bare back. Still groggy and exhausted from last night’s surprise party, he nestles deeper into the sheets, is momentarily curious why he doesn’t feel Alex’s arms around his torso, but his concerns are belied by the scent of burnt toast painting the air and clacking pans in the distance.

With a yawn, Henry sits up now, welcomes the newest addition of their family— a husky named Eleanor— into his lap, and waits for Alex to stumble into their bedroom in his ratty basketball shorts and mussed hair that Henry spent most of the previous night tugging on with writhing pleasure.

“Morning sweetheart,” Alex greets with a infuriatingly attractive smirk as he sets Henry’s breakfast— a cup of Earl Grey with a rather pathetic looking omelet and side bowl of fruit that Henry’s sure has been in their fridge for nearly a week now— on their nightstand.

“I don’t have to eat that, right?” Henry says, near urgent.

“Rude and unwarranted,” Alex gripes, tosses one of Eleanor’s treats to the other room so that he could take her place straddling his lap. “And after I spent all morning slaving over that god damn stove, and for what? Just to hear you bitch about my cooking prowess?”

“You’re just. So good. at so many. other wonderful things love,” Henry says between kisses of hello that he peppers across his collar bone and cheeks and the corner of his perfect mouth, thrilled at how Alex melts into him, rocks against his hips and presses tight enough that Henry is abuzz with all sorts of aching emotions. Elation and pleasure and longing and wanting and just merely content.

“Alright prick, good save,” Alex snorts, cups Henry’s face into his hands and kisses him properly, nice and thorough. “I made us reservations at that snobby German brunch place you like in Bushwick, but I gotta admit I’m feeling kinda hurt over the snub.”

So damn lovingly, Henry flips him over so that Alex is preening and wiggling beneath him, a pixilated gleam to his dark eyes.

“Let me apologize adequately love,” Henry pouts.

“That’s all I ask sweetheart.”

Alex doesn’t have to say anything but Henry knows it in his bones that when they kiss it’s something that’s meant to last for all the eons to come. He knows that he can have Alex, can have happiness and not be afraid of the consequences. When he kisses Alex on their bed on the morning of his twenty-fifth birthday Henry knows that life goes on and sometimes it’s better than you could have ever dreamt of in your wildest fantasies.

#firstprince #Henry Fox Mountchristen Windsor #Alex Claremont Diaz #Red white and royal blue #rwrb #belated birthday FIC for my love #SPILT INK

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sprnklersplashes · 4 years

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the perfect partner (one-shot)

captain cygnet+captain swan

Very few people believe Killian can actually cook. He’s Captain Hook after all, terror of the high seas, the most cut throat pirate to ever hoist a sail, et cetra, et cetra. No one thinks that he would be able to whip up a mean casserole or being the best cottage pie to the potlucks at Granny’s. But life is full of surprises, especially in Storybrooke, a place where Snow White is a bandit turned schoolteacher, Little Red Riding Hood is a werewolf and the wife of Dorothy Gale, and oh yes, Captain Hook is an excellent chef.

And tonight he’s turning to Italian, stirring the rice once more before turning down the heat on it. He always cooks it from scratch, never store bought. Zeus only knows how many chemicals are in those things. On the rare occasions she cooks, Emma simply raises an eyebrow at him, reminding him that not everyone has the time to go out and buy ten ingredients or the patience to make something from scratch. Much as he loves Emma, he has to disagree with her. Especially since Henry introduced him to cooking blogs on the Internet, he’s found it simpler than ever.

He chops up a few more mushrooms than necessary before throwing them into the pot, fully aware that this is likely the first time his wife or his daughter have eaten a vegetable today and he’s determined to make the most of it. Hope has inherited many wonderful things from her mother, bravery, kindness, a sharp sense of humour, but she’s also inherited her mother’s eating habits and despite her swearing up and down she had a healthy lunch, he’s not entirely convinced. At fifteen, she's past her ‘butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth’ phase and the supply of chocolate bars in the cupboard is getting smaller each morning.

“Dad?” When he looks up, the girl herself is standing in the doorway, a small smile on her face that doesn’t hide her anxiety. He drops the spoon, barely remembering to turn the heat down more before turning to her. Since having Hope, he’s discovered an instinct that’s completely new to him after 300 years. A change in the way she walks or a crack in her voice has him standing to attention with all the discipline of his Navy days. It also doesn’t help Hope’s case that she tends to wear her emotions on her sleeve.

“Anything wrong, love?” he asks.

“No… well… I don’t know,” she replies, beginning to pick at her nails. “I need a favour.”

“What is it?”

“Well….” Her voice grows higher as she steps into the kitchen, her eyes looking anywhere but him as she bites her lip. “You know how I’m going to the dance with Melody, right?”

“Yes.” How could he forget? The entire Charming-Swan clan had been waiting with held breath to see when Hope would finally pluck up the courage to ask the little mermaid out. Emma was close to asking Melody out for Hope, since it had worked in getting her brother and Gideon together, but Snow had held her back, insisting Hope needs to find her path herself. Unfortunately, their daughter isn’t as gifted with charm as her grandfather is, nor does she have the blunt bravery of her mother. Hope spent weeks in wide-eyed friendship with her, the date of the dance looming closer with no sign of her asking, her nerves getting the better of her at every turn. Eventually, Robin intervened before anyone else could, and Melody agreed with the kind of perky enthusiasm her mother is well-known for.

All in all, it was an exhausting affair.

“Well… the thing is…” Her cheeks turn pink and then crimson and she folds her arms, tapping her foot against the kitchen floor. “Idon’tknowhowtodance.”

It takes Killian a while to work out what she said, but when he does, he’s a little taken aback by it. He’s sure he danced with her when she was young, and he always assumed it was in her blood, just like courage and compassion and magic. He thought it came with the Princess package.

“You can’t?” he repeats gently, sensing Hope’s embarrassment from her tight shoulders.

“Nope,” she sighs, shaking her head. There’s a scowl on her face and either anger or shame sparking in her green eyes, a look he’s seen more than once on Emma. She rakes a hand though her hair, attempting a weak shrug. “I mean it’s just… You know, dance class never really worked out for me. And I never really liked it anyway. And they didn’t like me.” Killian nods, curling his hand into a fist. Snow had insisted Hope take ballet and ballroom classes as a child, even though it became clear she wasn’t cut out for them. The poor girl still struggled with balance and rhythm and when every other girl in the class turned left, she went right. She lasted a few years before the two of them decided to put her out of her misery and take her out of the classes. He had never seen Hope so happy as when Emma asked her that. And while they couldn’t get an official diagnosis of dyspraxia, no one was surprised when it was suggested.

“They didn’t not like you Hope,” he reminds her now.

“I know, they just didn’t like my body and it’s lack of coordination,” she replies, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “I mean this is kind of your fault when you think about it.”

“How exactly?”

“You made me,” she replies, breaking out into her trademarked sarcastic grin, covering up any insecurity. She gestures to herself as if to prove her point. “This dyspraxic mess is entirely your fault.”

“50%,” he responds, laughing along with her. “You’re only half me. But… you still want to dance with her?”

“Well, yeah.” She bites the inside of her cheek, her face turning the same kind of pale pink it normally does when she thinks about Melody. “I want her to have a good time. And don’t-” She adds just as he opens his mouth. “Don’t tell me that we’ll have a good time no matter what. It’s a dance. I want to dance with her.” She looks at the ground, now biting her lip and resuming picking her nails, faster and deeper this time. “So… can you teach me?”

“Oh, Hope,” he says. As if she’d ever need to ask. “Use your little talking device to pick a song. Then I’ll show you how to dance, Cygnet.”

And when she smiles at him, dimples and sparkling eyes and laughter, it makes the 300 year wait for her worth it.

She flicks through her phone and turns on a song about Christmas lights, guitar strings and lovers and sets it on the counter, the music filling their kitchen.

“Good girl. Now you take my hand. Now, normally the man leads but in this case-”

“Such heterosexual nonsense” she sighs dramatically, tossing her head back at the tragedy. She pulls her long, black hair into a ponytail and takes his hand.

“Indeed,” he laughs. Thankfully, he’s found ways around that after more than a few dances with men in his past. “What I was going to say was that since you did the asking, you’d be the one to lead. So you be you, and I’ll be Melody.”

“Oh, Dad,” she scoffs, her eyebrows shooting upwards. “That is really gross. On about every conceivable level, that is gross.”

“Just for tonight, little love,” he reminds her. “Now, that means your hand goes on her back…” He directs her hand as such. “And her hand will be on your waist.” He does so as well, bending down to meet her height. Hope is gifted in many things, but height was not one of them. In fact, he’s fairly certain Melody is a head taller than her. That should be interesting. Normally Hope would be laughing at him, but now her brow is furrowed and her jaw set as she concentrates. It’s a little surprising; he of course knows how bad Hope’s crush on Melody was, but he never thought it would be more than a schoolgirl fling. Yet with how seriously she’s taking this, it might just be. “Now you find the rhythm, Cygnet, and you guide me.”

“Find the rhythm?” she echoes sceptically. “I don’t think the rhythm likes me very much.”

“Trust your gut, Hope,” he tells her firmly. “No matter what else, you’re a pirate. You’ll find it.” Hope closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and begins moving, taking them in a slightly jerky and awkward dance around the kitchen.

“Sorry,” she winces. “That was your foot.”

“It’s okay love, keep going,” he says, watching her count the steps in her head. “Hope you know you will also have to look at her at some point, right?”

“I have to do what now?” she asks. But she lifts her eyes to his, identical to her mother’s and grandmother’s, and filled with uncertainty. While she still stumbles and missteps, she’s better than she was before; her movements more smooth and even though there’s a lack of confidence, she counts out loud less. She even manages to spin him out and under her arm, even if she has to stand on her toes. “Is this good?”

“This is great,” he tells her. “You’re getting the hang of this.”

“I hope so,” she says, her smile falling.

“Hope?” he asks, hair pricking up on the back of his neck.

“I’m fine,” she says, even if her face says otherwise. “Just… this is kind of our first date. I want it to go well.”

“And it will,” he says firmly. “One thing I’ve learned, Cygnet, is that it’s not the night you spend, it’s the people you spend it with.” Hope smiles, softer now. It’s times like this he allows himself to think he’s doing good here. “I’ve spent some lovely nights with the most dreadfully boring people, and some chaotic and wild ones with the most amazing person imaginable.”

“That better mean me,” a voice comes from the doorway. While it does make them both jump, he’s put at ease in the next second. Emma leans against the door, exactly the same way Hope did, a smirk on her face and her hair wet from the rain outside. “Otherwise we may have some problems on our hands.”

“Who else would I mean, love?” he asks. She strolls into the kitchen, shaking her head in amusement.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Emma says, gesturing to the two of them. “That was cute, what you two were doing.”

"Dance lessons," he explains. She nods, stepping back with amusement on her face, particularly when she looks at Hope.

“Actually,” Hope begins, a gleam in her eyes. “I have a better idea.” She lets go of Killian and runs to Emma instead, pulling her onto their makeshift dancefloor. When she pulls Emma towards him, it’s obvious to anyone what she’s planning. “You two do it.”

“Not that I’m complaining,” Emma says, her voice soft and laced with laughter. “But what is this accomplishing, kid?”

“I learn better by watching,” she explains, sitting up on the counter and holding her phone. Normally he’d scold her for sitting on the counter, but with her smile and the pleasant air about their kitchen, it feels a shame to break it. Killian shares a look with Emma, both aware that her reasoning is flimsy at best, but neither one of them has it in them to say no.

“What do you say?” Emma asks, grinning and holding out her hand. “You want to show the amateur how it’s done?”

“Nothing I’d love more,” he tells her, pulling her close and listening to her laughing. He twirls her around the kitchen, slightly aware of Hope capturing the moment on her phone, Emma’s blonde hair flying and her laughter getting harder as he dips her. Emma’s not a perfect dancer by any means, but she is the perfect partner. Less elegant and poised, more rough and reckless, but beautiful and brilliant all the same. He’s equally as charmed by her now as he was in Midas’ castle.

And if Hope captivates her date in the same way, which she will, then she has nothing her worry about at all.

#ouat ff #captain cygnet #killian jones #hope swan jones #captain swan #emma swan #ouat #i came up with this idea 2 years ago and finally wrote it bc i didn't want to study *dances*

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marysfoxmask · 4 years

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I've always HC'd Colin to be a victim of what we would call now Munchausen By Proxy on the part of his staff - they never said he could go out, kept telling him he was sick, never told him he could even leave bed, gave him treatments that he didn't need - it's classic medical abuse. Colin is ten, and calling his neuroses his own when they were definitely created by the people around him lets everyone else at Misselthwaite off too easy.

Though I do agree with your main point that having a disabled character who *stays* disabled is very important and Dickon's disability shouldn't have been written out (though in my head he has a severe facial deformity bc of the way Burnett described him as like carved out of wood.”

- @chasingtheskyline

i’ve heard that munchausen’s by proxy is a pretty common diagnosis for colin’s sickness, and i think it does fit to an extent, but i believe munchausen’s by proxy is considered so dangerous because it’s intentional on behalf of the caregiver, whereas i think mrs. medlock and the misselthwaite staff are genuinely helpless and just trying to do what they can with the circumstances they’ve been given. it’s especially easy nowadays to ignore the class hierarchy at work here—mrs. medlock and co. are beholden to mr. craven, who’s abandoned his duties as father of colin and master of misselthwaite. they can’t criticize his negligent parenting to his face because he’s likely to have them sacked for their impudence (folks like mrs. medlock and martha would always be aware of that risk). they’re also laboring under period era difficulties like lack of support for premature babies (more on that later), psychology being only a budding field at this time, and lack of education in general (neville craven is the only person educated in matters of health and medicine located locally, and even he’s busy with other patients in thwaite, given he’s not a rich man and has to make money elsewhere). i don’t envy the stress and strain the servants at misselthwaite are under in regards to colin and his fluctuating health.

while i definitely agree that, as adults, they should have put their collective foot down and made more of an effort to help him, they’re still beholden to a classist system where the plain common sense of susan sowerby would never reach “master” colin’s ears unless mary, with her lack of regard for what’s proper or not, intervened. it just wasn’t done back then—even if mrs. medlock and co. had doubts, they couldn’t reasonably be expected to voice them, especially since colin eagerly wields his class privilege like a cudgel.

it’s a minor detail in the text, but something i’m surprised hasn’t been mentioned more when discussing colin is that he’s a preemie! lilias died when she was heavily pregnant, certainly in her third trimester. straight out of the gate, colin hasn’t had the full time needed to grow and develop in the womb—which is definitely a source of birth trauma. premature babies are noted to be more prone to mental illnesses like anxiety and depression than typically maturing babies, and they also may have weak immune systems and other health problems. obviously the staff at misselthwaite wouldn’t have the exact clinical knowledge of this, but it doesn’t take a medical degree to realize “mom injuring self and dying in childbirth = not the strongest circumstances to start off life in.” i’m sure they coddled him so much not because they instantly thought he was sick from the moment he was born, but because they knew that, as a premature baby, colin was more likely to be ill than other babies allowed to grow to term.

it’s also important to note that the staff could be interpreted as essentially protecting baby colin. they kept him in his room because they didn’t want him to die, unlike his hysterical (pun intended) father, who ranted and raved that the baby might as well die because it’d be a hunchback like him, and at the moment of colin’s birth, at that. that in itself could be a reason to diagnose colin with munchausen’s syndrome by proxy—his father’s rantings when he was a baby—but i don’t think that’d officially qualify, since mr. craven had next to no contact with colin directly after this, and i believe munchausen’s by proxy is meant to refer to sustained abusive patterns of behavior. i think munchausen’s by proxy is a technically correct interpretation, as there’s nothing really stopping it from being true (aside from the question of intent, which i find significant—is it really munchausen’s by proxy if it happens entirely by accident due to lack of education by his caregivers, or due to fits his father had at his staff when he was a newborn? i’m just not sure), but i personally find it narratively unsatisfying.

mary diagnoses colin with “hysterics,” which, per freud, was “a psychiatric condition variously characterized by emotional excitability, excessive anxiety, sensory and motor disturbances, or the unconscious simulation of organic disorders.” i think he definitely has some sort of undiagnosed (obviously) anxiety—his tantrums, which seem to me somewhat akin to panic attacks (though significantly different in a few ways), as well as depression (lack of appetite, intense negative thinking, lack of sleep, anger, loss of interest in things like going outside [maybe that’s cheating, as he never really had an interest to begin with in going outside], lack of energy, and even physical pain. both anxiety and depression was folded into the label of “hysteria” back then, so i definitely don’t think it’s an unreasonable interpretation.

the misselthwaite staff also weren’t totally helpless, though; they did suspect that colin would do better if given fresh air as he grew up, but his constant illnesses due to his weak immune system kept him inside because he feared getting worse, and not going outside meant his immune system stayed weak, and so he kept getting sick. mrs. medlock saying that colin’ll “die for sure this time” when he had typhoid was definitely awful and completely unjustifiable, but to be fair, she also thought he was so feverish he didn’t hear her. not that that’s really an excuse, but...it’s complicated.

the staff at misselthwaite do care about colin, whereas caregivers who give their wards munchausen’s by proxy generally, at least in my understanding, don’t (though feel free to correct me on that, i really only know about it from what i’ve read of the symptoms on the internet and the gypsy blancharde story; the latter in particular notes that the victim’s caretaker wasn’t terribly mentally stable, which from what i understand is a fairly common element to illnesses like these). i don’t think mrs. medlock or the misselthwaite staff would ever want colin to come to harm for their own sakes; they’re careless and foolish, harmful at worse, but i don’t think i’d call them abusive, merely because of the complicated class dynamics at play. colin’s a rich boy who has the power to send them away if they displease him; his word is law at misselthwaite. blaming the staff for not caring for him properly in that sense is like chastising the native servants in india for not caring for mary properly; there’s more nuanced factors at play here than just the dichotomy of “child vs. adult,” though that is important.

(sorry for the unwieldiness of this reply! this is a side blog, and i haven’t yet figured out if there’s a way to reply from those yet, so i figured this might be easier!)

#the secret garden #colin craven #frances hodgson burnett

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years

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I'VE BEEN PONDERING STUDENTS

And strangely enough, it's also why they fail so frequently. In a sense, though, my filters do themselves embody a kind of password for sending mail to me. What you want to keep out more than bad people. So eliminating economic inequality means taking money from the rich. When you can't deliver ornament, you have to get it from somewhere. In practice the founders grow with the problems. I did enjoy developing for the iPhone, the control they place on the App Store. It's like the sort of software that's supposed to be the most powerful forces in human nature.

I have not yet seen evidence that seemed to me an important question, maybe the most important sentence first; write about stuff you like; if you can't get users, though. Next I create a third hash table, this time mapping each token to the probability that the mail is spam. They treat iPhone apps the way they treat the music they sell through iTunes. They could take everyone and keep just the good ones. VCs interested only in high-growth companies? And because startup founders work under great pressure, it's critical they be friends. The first person to write about, then write down what you said; expect 80% of the ideas writing would have generated. Designers trying to be artistic resort to swooshes and curlicues. You look at them and you think, the gall of these guys to try sending me mail that begins Dear Friend or has a subject line that's all uppercase and ends in eight exclamation points. There were a few other patterns, but these were the biggest. But I wouldn't want the site to go away.

False positives are innocent emails that get mistakenly identified as spams. The most ambitious is to try to write software that recognizes individual properties of spam. 1654587 us-ascii 0. You might come up with organic startup ideas usually don't seem like startup ideas at first. Parents will tend to make filtering easier. If we'd had our later selves to encourage and advise us, and Demo Day to present at, we would have been much better if we had operated under the assumption that it's all about us. The superior man is always happy; the small man sad, said Confucius. It used to be the most valuable antidote to schlep blindness is Stripe, or rather Stripe's idea. Not opting out is not the end of the world just doesn't get startups, and why startups do things that ordinary companies don't, like raising money and getting acquired. So I bought it, but my mental models of the crusades, Venice, medieval culture, siege warfare, and so far no spam that does. An expert pianist can play notes faster than the brain can send signals to his hand. Result: if it can't contain exciting sales pitches, spams will inevitably have a different character.

There is rarely a single brilliant hack that ensures success: I learnt never to bet on any one feature or deal or anything to bring you success. The statistical approach is fairly robust, and can tolerate quite a lot of the obstacles to ongoing diagnosis will come from some little startup. Though I have to say, not at all, if you're not. The other way to get a cozy, tenured research job. Founders of successful startups: a lot of people predicted that startups would outsource their development to India. Surely at some point. 6x 7% 33. And if the answer is obvious: from a job. You've made something you need to use a more succinct language, and b Microsoft's agenda consisted of stuff they weren't good at. Growth is why startups usually work on technology, or take it away from the rich. She writes: Hilbert had no patience with mathematical lectures which filled the students with facts but did not teach them how to frame a problem and solve it.

If you're really getting a constant number of new customers to existing ones. So I don't think anyone really believes it is the true test of a language is how small it makes your programs. In addition to the technical obstacles all startups face, they'll be going against thousands of years of medical tradition. The inhabitants of fifteenth century Florence included Brunelleschi, Ghiberti, Donatello, Masaccio, Filippo Lippi, Fra Angelico, Verrocchio, Botticelli, Leonardo, and Michelangelo. We're dealing with one of the rare ideas that generates rapid growth. Probably the most important question for anyone interested in language design, and one that it would be useful to confront directly. Refutation. Think about where credentialism first appeared: in selecting candidates for large organizations. If there are tensions between cofounders we help sort them out. Well, one reason it's bad in practice is that other countries might not agree to slow down with us. The lowest form of disagreement. VCs want to invest in startups, and partly it's yet another consequence of the fact that the founders of Chatterous told me recently that he and his cofounder had decided that this service was something the world needed, so they must be promising something people want.

7% coming out of later stage investors? That sounds about right. Google to do. It may just be one way to do it. They overvalue ideas. In Wright's early plans for the Guggenheim, the right half was a ziggurat; he inverted it to get hot, and you have no more than a week ahead. In architecture and design, you probably need to be hackers to do what hackers do for fun: cook up amusing hacks with your friends. Why don't government officials disclose more about their finances, and why startups do things that ordinary companies don't, like raising money and getting acquired.

You need some kind of competitive game with the spammers. When you're writing a real essay. It's unlikely you could make something better designed. One of the reasons I like being part of this world. If you ever got me, you wouldn't have a clue what to do are more different than most people realize. Which means, in the sense that there's less demand for them. His field is hot now and every year he is inundated by applications from would-be successors both directly, as Roger Bannister did, by lodging the idea in users' minds that a single person could unroll the future for them. They treat iPhone apps the way they speak. Which meant, with current US tax rates, that it bumps into new ideas. The next best, for startups that aren't charging initially, is active users.

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manichoneybee · 5 years

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Tips for Mentally Ill Students

Preface: I know theres a lot of this kind of stuff around, but I thought I would put out my two cents as someone with ADHD, anxiety, and Bipolar II (so a combo of hypomania and depression that cause things I’ll elaborate on in this). This may or may not help with some chronic illnesses, as I have fibromyalgia which is pretty inseparable from my mental health.

This all comes from my experience as a first year college student, who didn’t fully take this advice all the time, but definitely plan to fully incorporate in my first semester and I’ll update you. Most of this advice I did take though, and I made it on the deans list and got a 4.0 on my jury so I think I did well for myself.

1. Do Things Ahead of Time - Executive dysfunction, depression, pain, etc. is a bitch. It will tell you that you can’t, that you shouldn’t, that it’s impossible to do that thing you need to do. And really sometimes it is impossible for you. I know I found it impossible to do my homework sometimes, and thats not good. However, this is where using your good days to full advantage comes in. On my end of this, I often even use my hypomanic days (which are not fun trust me, but thats not what this post is about) to get shit done. When you have a day where you feel like you can do things, USE IT. Do your homework, clean that corner of your room, plan a month ahead (I literally make bujo spreads a month ahead in order to counteract my depression and busy days), email that professor, get it all done. You will love your past self for it.

2. Spend Time Outside of Your Room - (Bear with me this one is long) Ok, I love to sleep, I am constantly tired. Fibromyalgia is horrible, as is depression. However, sleeping all the time is not conducive to studying, doing homework, practicing oboe, showering (trust me you will not wanna get out of bed just to shower and you will go for days without). In college you have a lot of free time, and that free time could be spent in your room, or it could be utilized to 1) spend time with friends 2) study in the library 3) practice an instrument 4) explore the campus/city 5) draw in cafe. I’ve found that being outside of your room improves your mood, and also allows you to be more focused on your work. Personally, I like to find the most underutilized area of the campus at the time, and studying or drawing there. I even once had a TA tell me to go take a walk and destress rather than take a test, and he just had me take the test the next week (he was the best TA). It’s very good to get out of buildings, especially your dorm. (If I’m honest though I did sleep in the lobby of the music building many times which probably wasn’t good, but I’ll admit this tip didn't always work).

3. Honestly Classical Music Doesn’t Always Work - as a music major who plays the oboe, I’ll be honest, classical music is distracting. I find myself constantly analyzing it and/or just getting bored with it lol. So, to fuel my brain’s need for stimulation while I do homework I put on podcasts or youtube video in the background. I know people will tell you that you can’t multitask, but as someone with both ADHD and exhausting hypomania, I need entertainment. If that means classical music for you, go for it, but I’ve talked to a couple of people and they agree with me - it doesn’t always work.

4. Say No - people will ask you to do a lot of things such as going to a concert, party, tutor them and you don't have to do it. If you don’t want to, if you don’t have the energy, if you just don’t like them, don’t do it. I feel like this is the hardest tip because many of us don’t want to be hated, but what other people think of you doesn’t matter as long they don’t effect your future, such as professors obviously. This is incredibly hard to internalize.

5. 100% Effort All The Time Is Not Possible - we talk a lot about giving what you want to receive. Thats not how it works. You can’t always give 100%, and you won’t always receive 100%. The world isn’t equal. You need to decide how much energy you can serve that day, how much energy you think something deserves, and then apply it. You may receive just as much energy as you put in, you may get less in return, or you may get more. It just depends on what you’re doing. Its not fair to yourself if you treat yourself like a battery powered machine. You're more like a cell phone that needs to recharge and has less and less energy to give the more time you go between recharges.

6. Actually Socializing is Good For You And That Can Include Parties - I know I just said say no to parties, but parties can be refreshing. Obviously I you have social anxiety it might not be, but you don’t always have to go to parties you can just hang with a friend at a cafe. However, what I'm trying to get across is that doing something new is much better than constantly doing homework, working, and just generally being by yourself. If I’m truthful, I love parties, I think they really bring me alive as an introverted extrovert, and they save me from myself. By the way, I'm not advocating for underage drinking here. You don’t have to drink at parties, and if anyone pressures you to, leave. but if you're in a safe environment parties, genuinely are a good thing to save you from self impose solitary confinement.

7. Talk to Your Professors/TAs - this one is self explanatory. Your professors are your greatest resource, and you need to tell them when you are having issues. This doesn’t mean you have to tell them your mental illness. Its genuinely not necessary, unless you really want them to understand the issue (such as e telling my piano TAs about my fibromyalgia that hurt my fingers). You can just ask them for an extension on the occasional piece of work, email them on your bad days and tell them you can not make it to class and ask for a make up date for the test. Most professors are very kind especially if you are in a small class/major. Of course it depends on the class. Personally I’d reserve this for your smaller classes, and use your extra effort on those big classes where accommodation is harder for the professor.

8. Related: Use Your School’s Resources - on that note, your school may have counseling/therapy/psychiatry/etc. that you can use. If it’s free, or you have the insurance, please use it, and if you can, use it regularly. In many cases if you have an official diagnosis, you can get disability accommodation for your mental illness and/or disability and/or chronic illness. This means you'll have an official “excuse” for violating the absence policy (please don’t though, that one is tougher to accomodate), for turning in your homework a day late, for needing power-points to be presented rather than verbal lectures (I have this one for just in case moments, normally professors automatically accommodate this though). This means that if professor don’t let you use your accommodations, they can get in trouble.

9. Have Things That Make You Feel Better Easily Available - sometimes it’s incredibly tough to get out of bed, but you need to. On these days, you need something that can make you feel better without just skipping class. On these days I always have sweatpants or leggings available for comfiness, in the fall I grab my emotional support scarf (not a total joke, that scarf comforts me on my panicky days), sometimes I even use my CBD vape pen (yes, yes I know self vape nation lol get it put of your system). Just having things that make you feel good, in your site, and readily available for use is so important and can really make the difference.

10. Not Every Piece of Homework Needs to be Done - exclusively the only reason I did not get a 3.8-4.0 is because I weighed my options and decided it was better for me to not do certain low weighted hw. Rather than use my spoons doing hw that wasn’t going to ultimately help (I knew the material, if you don’t know the material it’s tougher to use this tip), I used my spoons and energy towards doing the laundry or practicing my oboe for an extra 30 mins. It’s important that you weigh what is more important to you personally.

I hope these helped! I’m trying to be realistic as possible, and been as candid as possible so if this helped feel free to message me and talk about it because I’d love to hear your story as I’ve shared a bit of mine here.

Also, go ahead and add on to this with your tips!

#studyblr #tips #advice #mental health #positivity #school #college #productivity #studyspo

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slipscout · 4 years

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people kept saying that jello joked about trans people being hermaphrodite 5 years ago, is any of that true? i saw someone in the notes talking about it on the original post. i thought you would probably know

Before we begin my computer has witnessed a power outage AND an error code within 5 minutes and WOW have I never felt the need to scream more in my life.

Let me know if anything needs to be clarified/expanded on or is incorrect and needs to be fixed!

Onto the discourse!

The Welcome to Tumblr video was created January 2014, posted onto Jello’s official yt channel. I suggest you watch it before proceeding. Long post ahead!

Alright! The quote in question, our main suspect!

2:32-2:52

Oh, you’re back! Ah, I see you’ve added something to your facade! (Squeaky toy SFX showcasing a green sticky note with a Y, labelled ‘Vagina’ and underneath, ‘I am a hermaphrodite’). A vagina on a man is a good start, but you can’t go around calling yourself a ‘hermaphrodite’. That’s racist. What you need is a politically correct name for yourself that you can use to yell at people with. You’re not a ‘hermaphrodite’, you’re vagin-abled.

Lets bounce right into it.

A hermaphrodite is where an animal has both sex characteristics. Notably, the clownfish is a sequential hermaphrodite that changes from male to female when needed. Hermaphrodite is a pejorative, outdated term to describe intersex folks.

Intersex is where humans have both sex characteristics, internally and externally. Some people go through their lives never knowing they’re intersex. It’s full of genetics and all that jazz, and I’m not nearly qualified to talk about this, so I suggest you head over to the ISNA to learn more about it.

Anyway, the video is a satirical piece that is supposed to make fun of ‘SJW’s and the radical feminism/inclusionism of passive-aggressive folks on 2014 tumblr. I wasn’t around for that, so I can only witness this post-happening.

SO! Trans people and intersex. There’s a lot of differences here, and better definitions and questions on ISNA. I’ll try to keep it simple:

Trans folks are, for the most part(I’ll get to that in a moment), physically aligned with their assigned gender at birth. However, they experience doubt and dysphoria over that. Its a mind vs body type.

Intersex folks are not aligned with their assigned gender at birth!

Both can use surgery/testosterone/estrogen to align themselves as they please, which is why some intersex folks consider themselves trans! There’s definitely a line that defines the two, but for the most part, they’re separate identities that cross paths every now and then.

Onto the next part.

The ‘vagina on a man’ part can absolutely be interpreted as transphobic, if its taken slightly out of context. The video itself is the context, and focusing on that part alone and not the video as a whole counts it towards being transphobic.

Some parts of the video just didn’t age well, but here’s the thing: it’s supposed to be satire, comedic, and not meant to be taken seriously.

So, answering your question: was jello making fun of trans people and saying they’re hermaphrodites/not true guys/gals/nb, and is any of that true?

Answer? Yes-ish? In a sense. He was making fun of the 2014 shitshow of tumblr, the pitchforks and mobs if you didn’t show enough respect. The radical political correctness and SJWs was what he was aiming at. He wasn’t basing the entire video on digging at and hurting any selective group, he was showing how random people on the internet will chase people down over anything and everything.

Certain parts didn’t translate well, most other parts did! Remember, it was a satirical take, and while not one of my favorite videos, it definitely flew right over people’s heads. You kinda had to scrape off the face-value to see the context underneath, and analysing it made it easier to see the comedic effect Jello was trying to get.

It was ALSO almost 6 years ago. The dude has a series based on AC that he did with his friends that is already a diverse world.

People want him to take WTT down and apologize, but... he doesn’t have to take it down. Its a somewhat relevant, somewhat poorly aged satirical cartoon he meant for people to laugh at. People took it seriously and, while the quote I’ve been talking about can be taken as transphobic, if you look at the piece as a whole, its purely attacking the 2014 assholes.

((Ok, so now that’s over: political correctness, feminism, and SJWs are a whole can of worms and again, I’m only gonna continue repeating this: be kind. It doesn’t hurt to be respectful towards people’s race, religion, gender, orientation, etc. Just be kind.))

Onto the rest of the video!

WTT is still somewhat relevant, considering portions of it. (still not a fan of the trigger portion, but that’s for another day and I’m tired)

1:22-2:30 is still true! Check your sources kids! Also, the part of ‘if you don't reblog you’re heartless!’ It’s like those chain letters of ‘if you don’t send this to 20 people then SHE’LL be in ur room at 3am tonight’. I hate seeing those. There are absolutely people on here that are self-diagnosing and are almost always incorrect in their ‘diagnosis’. If you want a diagnosis, please go to an actual doctor and not a stranger on the internet, or even TRUST what half the info you see says. The facts/symptoms on tumblr are so out of proportion and sometimes aren’t even ‘facts’.

That’s all I’ve got for WTT, but there’s a couple other takes I think would help form a better understanding:

@hotfox69‘s long take. While I don’t agree with it wholeheartedly, it makes a lot of really, really good points.

@themightylorax had a small take on it. I can’t tell when this was created, but 2014 Tumblr was garbage. It was not a safe place, and the people defending it as a ‘safe place’ knew it wasn’t. It’s just a little better now, but there are still pitchfork-wielding people out on the platform.

@kingofdersecest has a cursing and somewhat vulgar take, and while I don’t agree with parts of it, it surrounds the rest of the video and simplifies it down into what Jello was jabbing at.

Tl;Dr: Jello’s Welcome to Tumblr didn’t age well in certain aspects, and while some of it is relevant today, a lot of it was focused on the overly political correctness of 2014 tumblr and the radical feminism and inclusionism that took place. It was also made 6 years ago. The quote in question can absolutely be taken as transphobic out of context, though it was directed as a satirical take on the aggressive people of 2014 tumblr.

#jelloapocalypse #welcome to tumblr #long post #2014 tumblr #is that even a tag #anyway #I hope this helped!

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pagalini · 5 years

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hi, sorry if this is too personal of a question, but i was wondering how you realized you had adhd? i think i may have adhd but i don’t really want to say anything to my family until i am positive? thank you!

Hey there! No worries at all, I’m a very open person.

I want to start by stressing that I’m currently on the waiting list for NHS assessment, because the UK process for diagnosis is very drawn-out and underfunded. However, though I don’t yet have the piece of paper that “officially” means I have ADHD, myself and my GP agree that I exhibit a lot of the symptoms, and they’ve managed to affect my life to the degree that I need some help.

The primary symptoms for me - well, my most significant issue involves problems with working memory - myself and my partner call it my “if it’s not in front of me, it’s gone” problem. If I don’t have a task that needs doing literally in eyesight in some way, I will completely blank on needing to do it. I also blank on verbal instruction, and have to ask people to repeat things a lot. I often walk into rooms and then stop, because I’ve forgotten why I’m there. And it’s not just occasional - everyone will walk into a room now and then and be like, wait, why am I here. I do it on a daily basis. I have to keep extensive and strict checklists for even the simplest of tasks, or I’ll forget about it. To set up for the day, I write a to-do list on Habitica, and then I write one on a physical post-it as well, and then if something’s really urgent I write it on my hand just to really make sure I’ll see it. And even then I miss things!

Task initiation is also a problem for me, but it’s at the core of ADHD itself, so that’s not surprising. I’ve always found this symptom troubling, because when I was initially investigating ADHD I didn’t think I had issues with task initiation, but I’ve come to realise through time and through the example of my partner, who definitely doesn’t have ADHD, that I do have it. Important difficult thing that needs doing? Nope. Too Much. I can’t even explain it, that sensation of Nope, Too Much, but it’s like a physical wall between me and the thing that needs to be done. Examples: I’ve needed to get a dentist for literally seven months, and I still haven’t done it. I also once needed to get a car scrapped and took TWO YEARS to actually get it done, and even then it only got done because my dad organised it for me. Exam prep? Oh man. That one’s a double whammy. If I didn’t put a note out for myself, or if I put my books away out of sight, then I’d just forget, and I’d end up cramming literally either the night before or the morning of. I’m quite fortunate in that I’m naturally intelligent, so I was able to “coast” like that through my GCSEs, but then my A Levels came along, and - well.

How did I realise I had ADHD, you ask? Well. For a lot of people with ADHD, they don’t realise there’s something going on until they hit a “wall.” In my case, I hit two walls a few years apart. The first wall was my A Levels. In the UK we do GCSEs, which are basic broad-spectrum qualifications, and then we do A Levels, which you select yourself and are more tailored to what you want to do in life. The jump from A Level to university undergraduate degree is very small. The jump from GCSEs to A Level is ENORMOUS, and I fell flat on my face. At GCSE level, without retaking any exams and with quite honestly little to no revision, I got fifteen GCSEs. Nine of them were A*s, and two were Bs. The remaining four were all As. The key thing is: I was a really excellent student.

Then I went up to A Level, and at the end of the first year I got: D, E, C, and U. For non-UK folk - a U if a grade so bad that it’s not even an F for fail - it’s U for unclassified.

I got 12% on the exam. I was heartbroken and completely lost. Everyone around me was shocked. My biology teacher was so sure there’d been a clerical mistake that she rang the exam board on my behalf! Except - there was no mistake. I’d just completely beefed it, to the nth degree.

Through unbelievable hard work and sheer terror, I managed to retake everything and come out of my A Levels with A, A, B, B. Not what I or anyone who knew me had expected - I’d always been predicted straight A*s - but good grades. Good enough to take the heat off of what had gone wrong, so on I sailed into university and beyond.

Retail work, retail work, volunteering - I was a busy bee for a few years. Then I got my first Adult Job, which was in editorial. Here was my second wall, and I left after six months to do an MA in Graphic Design, convinced that I must have picked something entirely wrong for me. I was shattered, confused, and it would take me at least a year to even slightly recover. In that year I kept busy, both with my MA, and with my research into ADHD. And the more I read, the more it dawned on me that this might just be the explanation for what had happened to me.

Here are some of the symptoms that really resonated with me then, and still do now:

Focus - I find it incredibly difficult to focus on something I’m not interested in, to the point that my brain just Nopes it. I describe it to the people around me as being like trying to balance a drop of water on a duck’s back. All the water wants to do is slide right off, and while for most people focusing on something they don’t want to do is something they can do even if they don’t like it, for me it’s that balancing act - something that requires all my attention and then some, and often ends in failure.

Sensitivity - Repetitive noises and actions both drive me absolutely WILD. I can’t stand either. Many a clock has suffered my wrath and had its batteries removed at 3am. Ironic, considering I have a really bad case of RLS (restless leg syndrome) and constantly have to shift around in my seat until I’m a position where I can Jiggle Good.

Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria - I overreact to negative feedback, taking it as a personal slight or assuming that the person hates me or no longer loves me. It’s an overwhelming thing, an almost physical sensation, and I’ve had quite a few panic attacks over the years because of it.

I also experience these:

Acting without thinking

Constantly changing activity or task

Difficulty organising tasks

Irregular sleeping patterns / difficulty sleeping

Anxiety

Mood swings & irritability - (this coupled with acting without thinking has ruined a lot of friendships for me over the years. It’s only recently, and with the patient help of my partner, that I’ve been able to slowly change and get a better handle on this aspect of myself)

Starting new tasks before finishing old ones

And on a more positive note, also these:

Creativity (constant racing thoughts mean a lot of ideas)

Information-lust (just gotta KNOW what that xyz means)

Last but not least, hyperfocus. Where would I be without hyperfocus? It’s what makes me who I am. It’s what lets me speed read books in just a couple of hours, or write two books and a DND campaign of my own despite working however many jobs at the time. It’s what lets me watch a two hour documentary about microscope slides because I “just gotta KNOW, man.” I am ever the font of random facts out of the people I know, and I love that about myself. I love how hungry I am for new information, new skills, and new stories.

I hope this (very long) post has been helpful. I wish you all the best with your ADHD journey - and please remember, if your doctor is at all dismissive of your experiences, get a second opinion! Especially if you’re female or look feminine - doctors often won’t listen to you anyway but especially so with ADHD because it’s still perceived as a “boy’s condition.” I had to get a second opinion, and in my case the second doctor has been fantastic and is totally on my side while the first was not at all.

#adhd stuff #pagalog #long post #adhd #Anonymous

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