#gave mature label for violence just in case!

[bb-babyy]

The Unplanned Road Trip (2)

Argyle x reader

Warning(s): Mature; swearing; violence; suggestive themes

Summary: You were unfortunate enough to get wrapped up in the chaos of finding El with your boyfriend, his best friend, his best friend's younger sibling, and his best friend's younger sibling's best friend.

Word Count: 4.6k

++++

"Nooo," you groaned as you felt the direct hits from a pillow underneath your mountain of blankets. You tried to snuggle deeper into the nest you had built with Argyle, but it was futile as each thud became harder and harder to ignore.

"Wake up, now!" Isabella yelled, her accent thick with irritation. "Mamá, please," Argyle groaned, trying to get the woman to leave the both of you be. "You will be late if you do not get up now," she huffed.

"Work doesn't start for another three hours," Argyle protested, curling in on himself, trying to shield away from his mother's wrath. You had decided last night that it would be easier for Argyle to get ready for his early shift if the two of you slept over at his house. He could just drop you off at your parent's home on his way to work. But now, you were quickly regretting that decision.

As much as you adored his mom and vice versa, she tended to wake you up hours before you had to get ready. She hated tardiness and made it her mission to ensure everyone was always on time.

She would've pulled the blankets off, but she had learned from that mistake several months ago after seeing the two of you stark naked after a night of passion. She instead knew to torment you by hitting you as hard as her five-foot-two stature could manage with the soft fluffy pillows.

A grunt had escaped from your lips as she got a lucky hit on your unprotected face. "Get up!" She threatened one last time before slamming the door behind her. You decided you wanted to live another day and slowly rose from your huddled position.

"I just wanna sleep forever," Argyle groaned as the blankets slipped from over his head. His voice was deep and scratchy. If you weren't exhausted, you'd most likely suggest fooling around a bit before you had to get the day started.

"I don't even know why I have to get up; I should be allowed to stay in bed," you mumbled, wiping the sleep away from your eyes. He only shrugged as he blinked slowly. A yawn had escaped from his lips as he stretched his arms above his head.

His shirt had lifted, showing a sliver of skin hidden underneath. You felt your dry mouth begin to water at the sight of his exposed flesh. He let out another yawn before he began to crawl out of bed. You lifted your hand and gave his butt a firm schmack as he crossed your path.

"Woah." His eyes widened as his expression grew flustered. "You've got a nice ass Argy. You get it from your grandma," you said, shrugging unapologetically. He made a face at your choice of words which caused you to laugh. You held out your hands and wiggled your fingers at him.

He smiled and helped pull you out of bed. He led you to the bathroom and began your morning rituals.

After eating a hearty breakfast provided by his mother, you sat on his bed with him between your thighs. You had helped him undo each plait that he had put his hair in last night. Once the final braid was taken down, you began to brush his long silky hair.

He was rambling about something that had happened at work the other day before jumping to another topic. You were never annoyed when he rambled or started a new story without finishing the last, that was just how he functioned, and you loved that about him.

"Hey, babe?"

"Hmm?"

"Who do you think you'd be in the breakfast club?" he asked. You paused mid-stroke, which caused him to tilt his head back to look up at you. "I would be labeled as the criminal or the basket case," you pondered.

"You do like to fight, but only within reason. And I don't think you're crazy, crazy hot but not like crazy insane," he said. You gave a soft snort before peppering his face with kisses. You gave him one last lingering kiss on the lips before tilting his head back down to finish brushing his hair. The silence between you only lasted for a minute before he spoke again.

"Hey, babe?"

"Hmm?"

"Who do you think would win in a fight, The Terminator or Jason Vorhees?" he asked, looking up at you once again. Silence passed between the two of you before you answered.

"I honestly don't know how to answer that, Argy."

+++

The ride to your house was peaceful as Argyle tried to keep his high intact for a busy day at work. Rounding the corner of your street, you began to moan as if you were in physical pain at the sight of both your parent's cars in the driveway. Your vehicle that had once been parked near the house was now occupying the curb.

"Do you want me to drop you off at Jonathan's instead?" Argyle asked, brown eyes filled with concern. Your head rolled against the headrest to look at him.

"No, it's fine. I just have to grab a few things, then I'll cruise over to Jonathan's," you sighed, feeling even less motivated to move.

"I can just wait here and drop you off myself," he suggested, trying to make you feel better about the situation. For a moment, you almost considered it but shook your head.

"No, no. It's fine, Argy; besides, I don't want you to be late, especially since your dad's kind of your boss. I'll be fine. I promise." Leaning over for a kiss, he had met you halfway before pulling away and stepping out of the van. The trek up the driveway didn't help the knots in your stomach. You gave him one last smile and a short wave before slipping through the door.

You tried to be quiet as you made a silent dash through the house. As your foot landed on the staircase's first step, you heard a voice call out to you. You physically cringed as your nose scrunched up in exasperation. A large part of you wanted to continue to your room, pretending that you never heard your name called or that you were still being addressed as if you were in the same room. Still, you knew it would be best to get the interaction over and done with.

Sighing, you turned on your heel and began to march over to the doorway leading to the living room. You could see your mom tucked underneath your father's arm as they continued to watch tv.

"Where were you?" your mom asked, keeping her eyes forward and on the news. "I was just hanging out with my friends," you mumbled.

"You know we don't tolerate mumbling, dear. Speak up and spit it out." You rolled your eyes hard to the point your vision became blurry at your mother's condescending tone.

"I slept over at a friend's house, and now I am going to get ready for work," you said, a tad bit too loud to get your point across. You didn't have to be at work until three, which happened to be hours away. Still, you'd rather suffocate in the tight uniform instead of being in that house any longer.

"You know we don't like it when you're not home when we're away. You should know this by now," your father said. Your parents were hardly ever home. You'd probably run out of food by the time they returned.

"I know, and I'm sorry-"

"You don't know if you're still sneaking around with that loser stoner," your mother's words dripped with venom. You felt your heart constrict in your chest. You balled your hands in a fist as you continued listening to your parents start to degrade the very person who had taught you how to love after years of loneliness.

"Great talk, but I have to go get ready if I want to get to work on time, so excuse me," you said, cutting your father off during another one of his tangents. Before you could get lectured once again, you rushed to your room.

You quickly showered, and just as you were about to finish getting dressed, your phone rang. You made sure to hurry and answer it before your parents could pick up the line downstairs.

"Hello?" you asked.

"Oh, thank god! I need you to take us to the police station as soon as possible; I'll explain everything on the way," Jonathan breathed into the receiver. You bit back all the questions that danced on the tip of your tongue before agreeing to be over at his house in five minutes. You slipped one of Argyle's tie-died hoodies over your work uniform before grabbing your skates and workbag.

You gave your parents a halfhearted bye that you would most likely get lectured on before sprinting to your car. As promised, you arrived in five minutes to see the boys standing at the curbside in distress. They all jumped in before you floored it to the nearest police station.

"What happened?"

"El- I mean, Jane got arrested for what she did to Angela yesterday," Jonathan said. You nodded in understanding while you kept your eyes on the road. Before you had the chance to put the car in park, Mike and Will jumped out of the moving vehicle.

Jonathan called out and quickly followed after them while you finally put the vehicle to rest. You walked into the building, dismissing the looks that you were receiving as you stayed close to the boys. They were forced to wait as there wasn't a guardian present despite having her brothers there.

You waited for a few hours with the boys before finally asking the receptionist if you could use her phone. She only agreed if you could make it quick, like five minutes or less. You thanked her profoundly as you dialed Surfer Boy's Pizza's number.

"Surfer Boy Pizza, this is Argyle speaking. We make everything fresh here at Surfer Boy, except for our pineapple, which comes from a can. Still, I recommend slapping some juicy pineapple on a pie. Oh, fruit on your pizza is gnarly, you say? Well, I say try before you deny!" Argyle's chirped. You could practically hear the smile in his voice as he spoke about his favorite pizza.

"Argy, babe, it's me. I'm currently at the police station-" He cut you off.

"What?! Are you okay? What happened? Do you need an alibi? I can show up right now and tell them that you didn't do it-"

"Babe! Breathe! I'm alright, it's Jane-"

"What?! Is she okay? Does she need an alibi?" You pinched the bridge of your nose and attempted to turn further away from the receptionist as his yelling could be heard through the phone. She eyed you for a moment before she began typing away on her computer.

"Argyle! Listen! She's been charged with aggravated assault since she knocked that bitch, Angela, on her ass yesterday at the roller rink."

"Damn, really? That sucks," he sighed through the phone, calming down a bit.

"I know, it does suck. And I won't know what will happen until much later since I have to get to work like right now, but I'm calling to let you know that I'm leaving my car with Jonathan, so I'll need you to pick me up later."

"Yeah, I can do that. Alright, I'll see you later, babe. I love you," he said.

"I love you too, and I'll see you later," you said, hanging up the phone. You apologized to the woman once again before shuffling over to the boys. "Hey, Jonathan. I have to head to work now-" Mike was the one to cut you off this time. You were getting sick of people speaking over you.

"What about El?" He stood up and gestured toward the room she was currently in.

"They legally cannot take her unless a guardian is present," you said; you knew her rights. You had been present as your brother was sent to juvenile detention way back when he still lived with you. You turned to Jonathan once again.

"I just need you to drop me off." You grabbed his hand and placed the keys in his open palm before closing it, "You can keep the car for however long you need," you promised. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but you simply smiled at him before facing the kids once again.

"Hey, I know you're worried right now, and I am too, but right now, all we can do is wait," you said. You planted a kiss on the crown of Will's head and patted Mike on the shoulder in parting before jogging out of the station with Jonathan.

It was quiet for a few minutes before he spoke up. "Thank you," he said briefly, looking over at you. "Don't worry about it, Jonathan-"

"No, seriously. Thank you." This time he made eye contact as he stopped at a red light.

"You're welcome." You smiled in understanding that he was pretty much thanking you for everything you have done for him and his family up until that point.

"Besides, what are friends for? I've got your back, always."

+++

You probably had the worst sleep of your life. Having to sleep under the same roof as your parents after a three-hour-long lecture that started right as you walked through the door after a stressful day at work; you really needed a joint or dick or both.

And you had a boyfriend who was more than happy to supply you with both. He had called earlier to let you know that his shift would end early today and that the two of you could spend some time together before your shift at the rink would start.

You pretty much spent the day cooped up in your room; you tried calling Jonathan to see if he wanted to pick you up to hang out, but your calls were sent to their answering machine, so you were pretty much forced to sit in the silence of your room and wait for Argyle. It was pushing two pm when rhythmic honking could be heard outside your window. You quickly collected your skates and work bag before charging out of the house. It felt like deja vu as you called out to your parents before slamming the door.

You practically threw yourself in the passenger seat and encouraged him to drive off, seeing that your mother was making her way down the steps of your porch. The smell of pizza was overpowering, which caused you to look in the back. His pizza delivery bag was filled and strapped down by a seatbelt.

"I just have one more order, then I'm all yours, babe," he said as he continued driving. "You promise?" you asked, reaching over and placing your hand on his upper thigh. He cleared his throat as a flush began to surface on his brown cheeks. He briefly looked down at your hand, you began to create small circles on his thigh before looking at the road ahead.

You were needy, but you also knew better than to distract a chaotic driver like him, so you moved your hand away. You couldn't help but giggle as he shifted in his seat, trying to relax before he popped a boner.

You began to shuffle through the tapes in his glove compartment before settling on Whitney Housten 1983. It became your favorite tape to play when the two of you began to bump and grind. You could already feel the moisture build-up between your legs with want. You were just about to ask him to pull over before the van came to a sudden halt. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the familiar neighborhood.

"Dude, Jonathan is having a party, and he didn't invite us? That's so uncool," he said. As he finished speaking, Mike slammed his hands on the door and began screaming incoherently. Right behind him, Will and Jonathan were carrying an unknown man to the van. You unlocked the doors, which allowed them inside.

"DRIVE!"

"W-what? What's going on?" Argyle's fight, flight, or freeze instincts kicked in, and he was a frozen, stuttering mess.

"ARGYLE DRIVE!" Your eyes widened once you saw a man appear walking down the Byer's driveway carrying a heavy-duty military weapon. Your mouth felt dry, and it started to get hard to breathe the closer he got.

"W-why does that guy have a gun?"

"DRIVE!" He finally took everyone's suggestion as the armed man raised his weapon.

+++

You listened carefully to the events that have happened in Hawkins the last couple of years until that very moment. Jane's name was Eleven, Will had been possessed once before, the Upside Down held nightmare-fueled creatures, and there was a very high chance the government was now out to kill all of you.

Your hands shook as you handed Jonathan napkins as he tried to slow the bleeding down. "I need more napkins," he rushed once they all began to soak up in the blood.

"I don't have anymore. H-hold on." You unbuckled your seatbelt and stripped out of your polo, not caring about the looks you were receiving.

"Babe! I don't think it's the right time to have sex-"

"Shush!" You didn't want to talk about your sex life with a dying man and two children nearby. Digging into your work bag, you pulled out the tie-dye hoodie and put it on before climbing in the back towards Jonathan.

You traded spots with Will as you began to tie the shirt around his abdomen. The man began to mumble as Jonathan suggested taking him to the hospital, which caused the man to puff out about not taking him to one.

The man lifted a pen toward you, which caused everyone to go into a frenzy to find him something to write on. You found a hidden scratch paper in the pocket of your hoodie and held it out for him to write on. Just as the pen touched the paper, the man went limp.

"We need to find El!" Mike exclaimed. Jonathan began to beg Argyle to get off the road as you began to get followed.

"We need to get the situation under control to the point that we don't die, and then we will look for her, but right now, Mike, stating the obvious is not helping! Sit down and shut up! And Argyle, get off the road." Your voice had dropped several octaves as you tried to focus on something other than the dead man at your feet. You gently took the pen out of his grasp as your shoulders slagged.

The car was tense and quiet as everyone mulled over the day's events. You had Argyle pull into an abandoned junkyard. It was dark, and you all needed to rest.

You slammed open the van doors and grabbed the dead cop by the ankles. You began to drag his body out of the vehicle; it didn't take long for Jonathan to come over and help haul the man out. Your stomach lurched at the sickening thud from his dead body hitting the ground, but you continued with your task.

There was a small compartment in the van where you stashed pillows and blankets for random naps or dates in the van.

Before giving them the oversized blanket, you gave the two pillows to Will and Mike. You then gave Jonathan and Argyle a smaller blanket each. "What about you, babe?" Argyle looked at you with confusion, but you simply gave him an exhausted smile.

You wiggled your legs underneath the blanket that Will and Mike shared and used your arms as a makeshift pillow. Sleep didn't come easily with the smell of metallic copper lingering in the van from the deceased.

You were the first to wake up as the very first signs of dawn appeared. You quietly got out of the van and began to wander around. You found a very old outhouse that quite frankly made you want to throw up years worth of food; however, the toilet paper looked safe enough to use.

You were just about to head back towards the van when you spotted two shovels leaning against one of the left-behind vehicles. You took your hoodie off and tied it around your waist as you began to dig a hole. You must've been digging for an hour before the guys started to climb out of the van.

Your white tennis shoes and socks were dusty from the sand, and your body glistened with sweat. You were thanking every cosmic being above that you decided to wear a sports bra instead of the purple lacey one that happened to be Argyle's favorite.

As Jonathan began to help you dig the hole bigger for the corpse, you didn't say anything. You listened to Argyle's frantic mumbling as he began to digest what had happened in less than twenty-four hours.

It got to the point that Jonathan had to persuade him to walk away and get high to go calm his nerves. You had finally buried the mysterious agent before you laid down in the back of the van, letting your legs dangle outside. You must've fallen asleep; the boys began cheering about something as the van pulled to a stop. You groaned at how much your body ached from physical labor and sleeping on the van's floor.

You lowered the hoodie down your midsection after it had rolled up during your little power nap. You were about 98% sure that you hadn't put the hoodie on correctly, and Argyle must've forced your fatigued limps through the sleeves and hood.

"Did you sleep alright, babe?" Argyle asked, looking down at your slumped position. You made grabby hands towards the stoner, who happily crawled into your embrace. You snuggled your face in his neck and inhaled his aroma. He smelled like sweat, weed, and the faintest hint of cologne he had most likely sprayed on yesterday before his shift.

"I've slept in worse places; anyways, what'd I miss?" Your breath tickled his neck, which caused him to giggle. Your lips formed a smile before kissing the spot that caused his legs to become jelly.

"I-I…Uhm…W-we found that the pen the dead agent gave us had a number written in it. And we finally found a ph-onebooth to call the number." Argyle struggled to form coherent sentences as you began licking and biting the sensitive skin on his neck. You began to kiss up and down the supple flesh that conjoined where his collarbone met his neck.

You hooked your leg around his to pull him closer as your kisses became untamed. "I really don't think we have time to go all the way right now–" Your little nibbles suddenly took a turn as you began to suck on the flesh, causing him to groan.

Climbing fully on his lap, you began to attack the other side of his neck with affection that you couldn't reach from your previous position. His hands began to knead the malleable fat on your exposed thighs. His lips were agape as soft paints started to spill out in short intervals.

"Ew!" A voice had shouted behind you, in turn scaring you to the point that you accidentally bit Argyle just a bit too harshly.

"Ow!" His sudden outcry had you pulling back. You huffed and turned around to see the disgust on Mike's face. You rolled your head and leaned down to place an apologetic kiss on the bruise that would form throughout the day.

"Enjoying the show, Michael? You're quite the pervert, aren't you?" Your voice was condescending as you grew more annoyed.

"W-What! I don't– that's gross, and I would never!" Mike stumbled over his words as he grew flustered at your accusation. Argyle finally sat up, making you slide down his stomach and thighs. Despite his tan cheeks flushed, he had a large grin full of contentment. He looked down at you and brushed his lips against your forehead, causing the slight scowl on your face to disappear.

"Maybe you're the perverts!" You almost forgot that Mike was still there until he continued his shrieking.

"Oh, yeah. You got me there, Michael. I'm a total perv." Sarcasm dripped from your lips as you finally slipped from Arglye's lap to sit next to him, fully facing Mike.

"They're always like this. Kinda gross, but like you just kinda leave them be and hope they don't get fully naked," Will said, standing right next to Mike. Argyle continued to rub up and down your legs, as his expression showed nothing short of euphoric.

"It does get a little old," Jonathan said, standing behind Mike with his arms crossed like a disappointed mother. "Alright, alright, we get it. No more van sex." Rolling your eyes, you slumped over and laid your head on Argyle's shoulder.

"Back to the topic at hand, what will we do now that the number wasn't a telephone number but a computer?" Jonathan asked.

You began to nervously pick at your nails as you began to brainstorm. You weren't tech-savvy enough to contact the coded number. Still, you have dabbled on a few illegal websites on the public library's computer.

Mike scurried to the front of the van and pulled out a map you had stashed in the glovebox. He jogged back in front of all of you and laid the glossy paper down so that you could see it.

"The only hacker that I know lives here." He had pointed a few states away from where the five of you were parked.

"In Utah?"

"In Salt Lake City, to be exact," Mike said as he looked around at the others. Will's eyes lit up with amusement as he rubbed his hands down his bowl-cut in disbelief.

"What?" Jonathan asked, feeling confused just as confused as you were. Will began to sing the catchy song of The Neverending Story, causing Jonathan's face to fall.

"The Neverending Story? That scared the shit out of me. The Nothing Man? That's some good existential shit right there, dude." You nodded at Argyle's words, knowing that he had nightmares for weeks from that movie. It got so bad that you had to sleep with the lights on.

"If we take the I-15 North, we'll be there by morning," Mike explained.

"No, we won't.," you said, finally looking up from your chipped and uneven nails. "And why not?" Mike asked, his brow furrowed. Rolling your eyes, you began to bring light to the situation.

"Do you have any money to fill up this van, Micheal? I know I only have ten bucks in the glovebox and a crinkled-up five-dollar bill stashed in my skates. Argyle and Jonathan spend all their money on weed, so they don't have any, and Will most likely left his wallet at home while you all ran for your lives."

His lips parted, and the glimmer of hope in his eyes started to dim, which made you feel bad. Sighing through your nose, you pulled the map closer to get an idea of how to gain control of the situation that you were in.

"This is the furthest gas station we can get to before we need to fill up, and it will take most, if not all, the money that we have left. And I don't know about you, but if we have to run, and god forbid fight, against some government asshole, then we'll need food for fuel." Laying the map, you pulled out a pencil and sketched over the paper.

Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose, knowing that there wasn't much else you could do but to put your trust into Lady Luck.

[onlymingyus]

Hello loves. I am so glad to see you guys are liking Your Games Suck: Gam3 Boi Edition. What a labor of love that beast was. Soooo many moving parts. Anyway I wanted to take a second and check and let you know kinda what is going on.

First, I am working 13 Days of Mars'oween. I am trying to pre-write all of these fics as early as possible. I hate waiting until the last moment because I can not let myself get too stressed out by having to push out like 4 drabbles a week before they have to be out or worse the day before the drabble is scheduled to go out.

So right now I have day one almost complete and day 13 was complete prior for another reason which will come to light in a few days, exciting things with that one jfdkal. Can't wait for you to know.

Basically I know it may seem like I'm not doing much right now but I promise I am and I will still try to write some imagines and such while I am doing this but this is a pretty big project I suddenly gave myself. I know I still have so many asks to get to and I promise I will get to them eventually.

Thank you for your patience during this.

Secondly, my ult Chanyeol is finally out of the military!!!! Like I am probably going to be so unbearable for some people with that nonsense especially if you follow @chogiwapadada but listen he and Mingyu tie for top ult for me lol. So I just figured that was worth mentioning in case my excitement seeps over here (it likely will).

Also I am using the community labels and marking my fics/drabbles with mature, violence, drugs/alcohol if they need to be if you need to adjust your settings to see my things. Just a heads up.

As always my asks are open for conversations but requests/ask games are closed for the time being. If you want to talk about anything though, my fics, upcoming drabbles like 13 Days of Mars'oween, or hell Chanyeol's release hit me up. LOL

[bush-viper-cutie]

Surviving – DAY 2

Pairing: Just Snape

Word Count: 3,488

Rating: M for Mature

Plot:  Severus works to get his life in order, trying to be independent for the first time in his life.

Warnings: Substance abuse, violence

A/N: Day two! “Poisoned” prompt from snapetober! HAPPY SPOOKTOBER! >:D

Posted: 10/2/20

Masterlist

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Diagon Alley was surprisingly packed with wizards so early Wednesday morning. When he’d made the appointment, he thought it’d be the perfect time. Who on Merlin’s earth would be up at seven on a Wednesday when work normally started several hours later? He was even more surprised to see all the shops open.

Maybe they stayed open all night? But then when would the shop owners sleep… Though of course even I’ve used WideEye to stay awake for days on end. He thought about the sudden crash he’d had during transfigurations and shuddered. Never again would he use it for eight days straight.

He pulled the hood up on his cloak – yes the very one from school, though he’d ripped the bloody Hogwarts crest clean off the second he graduated. No need to get rid of a perfectly good cloak. He learned that from his mother. One of the many, and yet few, things he’d learned from her.

He walked along the cobbled streets, keeping his head down and concentrating on his walk, and turned a corner leading down a twisting alleyway. Knockturn Alley, where his appointment was being held. He leaned on a curved metal post, looking for the ‘Man in the Red Witch Hat’, as his friends called him.

The Man in the Red Witch Hat was having a special, about fifty to sixty percent off his usual seeds depending on how well he liked you. Severus didn’t have a big budget, he had never had enough to save during his school days and the job he had now paid in warm meals and a roof over his head, but the tips were fine enough.

He normally hated shops, and working in one was a nightmare. He hated talking to people. The way they sneered at him. As if those bastards looked any better. It wasn’t his fault his personal upkeep had gotten worse since graduation. He’s been wearing the same clothes – washes them in the sink every Sunday – and hasn’t bother to cut or even comb his hair. Of course it doesn’t matter what he looked like working in the shop, all he had to do was sweep and prepare pots and dust off roots. Occasionally he’d have to make a home delivery – which is where the tips came in – but that was it.

There he is. Severus spotted the red witch hat across the street. The man was tall and made the brim covered his eyes. They were already in a shady alley, and yet the fact the man was acting even shadier gave him a giddy type of excitement. He must have some bottles too.

He peeled himself from the post and joined the few weary wizards walking the opposite direction before making a complete turn and walking back, trying not to draw too much attention to the man as instructed. As he approached, the man ducked between two shops and Severus had to squeeze in just to follow.

Severus didn’t have broad shoulders and had an annoyingly slender and lanky figure which made him even more confused due to the fact that he was having trouble reaching the end when the broad shouldered man seemed to be gliding down just fine. He popped out the other end into a small room-like area with trashcans and crates all around. The man turned and Severus tried not to appear shocked.

The Man in the Red Witch Hat was a boy no older than himself, maybe nineteen at the most. His cloak had some obvious padding up close. Is he supposed to be intimidating?

“I’ve got what you want… and more.”

“More?” Severus smiled wickedly, gripping the coins in his trousers. He knew Avery – and especially Mulciber – would go ballistic when he came back with more than just the seeds. Especially if what was in the bottles could lead to some extreme brews.

The guy pulled a case out of the air and opened it, exposing hundreds of little bottles with powders, wings, stones, gems, liquids, ooze, glowing lights, and hairs. It was a treasure-trove of Ministry-banned potions ingredients. The guy held up a purple pouch of what he assumed to be the seeds he’d owled him about.

“That’ll be forty.” The man smiled and bounced the pouch around.

Severus tried not to smile, knowing he’d lowered the price below the agreed upon amount in order to entice him to buy a little extra. He pulled out the coins and traded for the pouch, tucking it into his other pocket.

“Right. How much then.” Severus hated the smile that pulled on the guy’s face. He hated giving him the impression his little ruse had worked. It hadn’t. He’d figured it out. There was nothing ‘smart’ about him or his business practices.

“Fifty per bottle – that’s already on discount so don’t try bartering.”

Severus frowned. The bottles were tiny, about the width and length of his pinky fully extended. He pulled his face in closer for a better look at his wares.

“Don’t smudge the glass,” the guy mumbled.

He gave him a side-glare and pulled back a bit, inspecting each label and their contents. He picked two – he couldn’t afford any more – and gave him the last of his coins, leaving himself only two Knuts in his pockets.

The guy closed up his case immediately upon receiving the payment, pulled out his wand, and disappeared where he stood. Severus turned and squeezed back out the small alley onto the twisting street. He walked into the closest shop and took out his bag of Floo powder, just enough to make it back to Avery’s place.

~ * ~ * ~

They were waiting for him by the kitchen, hexing knives to fling themselves towards Avery’s cat. Severus stepped out of the fireplace and coughed multiple times, trying to clear his lungs. They turned and waited. He pulled out the pouch and they cheered, sending extra knives out of their drawers. He stepped over the trembling cat and placed the two bottles on the counter, raising his eyebrows in victory.

“You’ve got more!” Avery laughed and smacked the counter next to the bottles, making Severus jump with momentary panic.

“Ha! I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist!” Mulciber shoved his shoulder and stood, taking down three cauldrons. “How much we got left?”

They’d been brewing Mulciber’s special recipe for several weeks now, trying to get it just right to allow for the very peak of its effects to last longer. When they’d started, the recipe was atrocious, but with a little effort, he’d gotten it nearly perfect, or so they told him. He always refused to taste any of his own brews, knowing he couldn’t afford whatever addiction could occur from the wrong batch.

“Enough. We don’t need much of the powder per cauldron full. We could make real money with this.” Severus smiled. He could finally start saving.

“Then start it Sev. I’ll owl Lucius, see if he can get his friends together by this weekend.” Avery left up the stairs to his owl.

Mulciber laid on the living room carpet as Severus started, stretching out so his feet touched the kitchen counter and his hands touched the fireplace. He always refused to use the couch, which was the length of the whole room, and decided he liked tormenting the cat that hid under it better.

Within days the brew was made and Avery and Mulciber were laying on the only floor space of the whole ground floor, mumbling to themselves. Their eyes were glazed over and occasionally their mumblings would get loud and shaky. They always looked to be in pain to him, but when they came out of it they said it was the greatest happiness they’d ever felt in their lives.

That was another reason why Severus didn’t want to try it. He was done with happiness. Forever.

~ * ~ * ~

The meeting with Lucius had gone fine. He’d brought his friends – or so he called them, though it never felt like he liked them very much – and several of them had tasted the potion and been knocked out for hours. It was then that Lucius had pulled him aside. They’d gone up to Avery’s bed and Lucius had told him the men downstairs were part of ‘the cause’ and that he had joined them last month. That was Lucius’ way of saying there was a pack of Death Eaters in the house just down the stairs.

Severus had been showed the official Dark Mark on his arm, and Lucius had told him what it was like to be one of them. The power. The influence. People did what he told them to do and several Ministry officials backed him up. He had recognition beyond just the Malfoy name.

“If I want a promotion in the Ministry, all I have to do is ask for it. They fear me... Severus. You want that power too. I know you do.” Lucius had stood by the window, looking out with his cane held in his gloved hands. “Why are you so afraid to take it?”

“I want it,” he’d whispered. “I want to be taken seriously… I’m tired of being cast aside! I’m not rubbish, I’m not worthless. I deserve – ”

“To be accepted.” Lucius had known exactly what to say.

~ * ~ * ~

He carried thirty thumb-sized bottles in his cloak pockets. Five of Mulciber’s recipe and the rest were all of what Lucius had told him to brew. He walked into Hogshead and sat at a back-corner table, taking out last week’s daily prophet and hid behind it, keeping his hood up.

Every ten minutes someone cloaked would walk in and sit across from him. They’d ask about a headline and depending on the one, Severus would pull out a bottle. They’d slip the money under the paper and he’d slip them the bottle, never seeing the hooded figure again. He did that for months. Any time he didn’t spend at his job he spent brewing and bottling and selling on the weekends. He made enough money every week to afford a house like Avery’s, down by the edge of the village, but he never kept any of it, not even the money from Mulciber’s recipe. Every week Lucius would come down to his place and collect.

After a long day of selling, Severus packed up and left the shady pub.

Lucius knocked loudly on the door just up the stairs behind the shop, making Severus jump. This wasn’t a day he was expecting him, but he was excited to see him nonetheless. He pulled open the door and smiled, welcoming him in.

“Severus. How are you?” Lucius entered, cane swinging on his right hand. He stood taller and seemed to demand more attention than normal. “I’ve come by early to deliver a message.”

Severus closed the door and dropped onto his bed, wincing as dust burst into the air. Lucius knew how poor he was, but the dust cloud seemed a bit over the top. “What message?”

Lucius stood beside the chair by the window and raised a brow. “You’re producing quite the funds for us… Severus, there are many impressed with your work.”

His heart fluttered at the praise. He bit his cheek, trying to keep from smiling and nodded lazily. “Yeah?”

Lucius chuckled. “You could be selling much more expensive things. So expensive you could actually keep a good amount and get out of this…” he looked around and sighed, never finishing his sentence. “You could live somewhere better suited to your needs. A place with an actual kitchen so you didn’t have to brew in your own bedroom.”

Severus pulled on some loose strings on his shirt, watching them zig apart and grow larger. He avoided his eyes, knowing what it would take to gain enough trust to be handed large amounts of the ingredients he was given to brew with. Lucius pulled up his sleeve and got on the bed with him, surprising him completely. Lucius hated touching anything in his place and avoided staying longer than he needed to.

“It’s a symbol. Severus. A symbol you’re a part of something.” The snake on Lucius’ skin almost shimmered, as if it was an image reflecting of water. They were both quiet, watching the dark eyes of the skull. “Is she still holding you back? Do you still expect to go back to being friends with – ”

Severus felt a flash of anger. He sat up and scoffed, staring into Lucius’ steady eyes. “What a stupid thing to say,” he spat.

Lucius pulled down his sleeve and stood, heading for the door. “Then I’ll leave you with the message and let you think on it.” The door opened on its own and he turned. “Just because we’ve all graduated school, doesn’t mean we don’t have your back.”

Severus squeezed his fists and heard the door shut. I’m not weak anymore.

~ * ~ * ~

Severus stuffed his hands in his pocket and shook them around, hearing the coins jingle and clink. He did that after every tip, loving the sound. It was like hearing freedom ring in his ears. Sometimes he thought about visiting home finally just to shove the shiny gold in his father’s face. That old fool would probably smell the ruddy pouch, try to inhale it for himself, desperate and pathetic. Sorry Da, looks like you were wrong. I don’t need you. I never did. You’re the poor stupid fool living in that house.

He hopped on the old broom and pushed off hard. The broom was so old it had small branches growing out the sides. He ripped all but two off, using them as handles. It took an hour to get back to the shop, but he used that time to relax. If he wasn’t asleep, then he was spending his whole day working or brewing. It was nice to get some peace every once in a while.

He arrived home just as the rain started to really pour and left the broom under the stairs, tied to the underside of a step with charmed twine the shop owner had given him. He pulled his hood down and climbed the stairs up in a rush, pushing his door open.

He shrugged his cloak off onto the floor and pushed the door with his foot, except it wouldn’t close all the way, staying ajar. He groaned and pushed on it with all his might. “Close!” He kicked it but it wouldn’t budge. He sighed and moved his only chair to lean up against the door, pushing it in place against the wind. It’ll do for now.

He pulled the bedsheet off and wrapped it around his shoulders, opening the top cupboard and took down a jar of pickles. The shop owner always brought him back food from the store when he went, but Severus had the sneaking suspicion that he was given cheap, almost expired food.

He dropped the lid and fell back on his bed. The loud groan that came from falling back on it no longer scared him. He’d thrown himself onto the bed so often, sure that the bed would break, that he hardly noticed it anymore, knowing that it likely could not be broken, not with his own weight.

He bit into a pickle and dropped it back in the juice, sucking on his fingers and wiping them on his trousers. He blurred his vision, going over the steps to one of the newer brews Lucius had handed him instructions for, when he felt a prick in the back of his throat.

It felt like a needle was sticking out inside his throat, poking into the walls of his flesh, stinging. He coughed, sitting up to produce more power but the needle multiplied. The needles stuck deep into his mouth and throat, making it painful to move. His hands scraped his tongue, trying to find the needles and pull them out but there was nothing but thick saliva.

When he pulled his fingers back, the tips had blue bulging veins. Poison. He was being poisoned. He fell out of bed, gasping for relief, feeling his muscles begin to tire, and dragged himself to the cabinets under the sink. He was half way down the small stretch of hardwood when the bathroom door opened and someone in a red witch’s hat stepped out.

“Good to see you again.”

Severus stopped, glaring up at him.

“It’s belixy poison. Slow acting, but painful.” The boy smacked his lips and rubbed his hands together. “Here’s the thing, friend – ” he opened up the drawers and cabinets, knocking everything Severus used for brewing potions to the ground. “My employer’s received word our supplier has a better deal. Thinkin’ ‘bout dropping us completely.”

Severus groaned, spitting his saliva out in an instinctual attempt to get the needles off his tongue.

“’Parrently those Death Eaters and their Dark Lord been making so much money off illegal brews with our Ministry-banned ingredients, they’re thinkin’ of expanding.” He kicked a cauldron out of his way and sat on the floor in front of him. “Been using some real nasty stuff on those Muggles in Glasgow, Manchester, Cardiff, and even my London?” He tisked.

Severus spit on his shoes.

“Dick’ead!” He smacked Severus’ head and pulled him up by the collar. “I’m tryin’ to talk to ya!”

Severus got on his knees, gripping onto his own collar as he was pulled up. He could feel his feet begin to numb and waited for the guy to let go. The second he did, ready to state his demands, Severus stuck his hand in his left pocket and pulled out his wand.

He held it up and rasped, “Confringo!”

A red light blasted from the tip of his wand and blew them back in a fiery explosion. Severus was flung back on his bed and rolled off quickly, getting to his feet as best he could. He couldn’t feel them, and the numbness was creeping up his shins now and up his hand as well.

He looked around at the flames scattered everywhere and hunched over to escape the accumulating smoke. He saw the guy had been blasted into the bathroom and heard him coughing. Severus turned and limped over to the chair, throwing it aside and swung the door open. He hobbled down the stairs and flung himself under them, hissing “Cave Inimicum!”

He whispered it over and over as he dragged himself under the bottom steps as the guy barreled down them, looking around wildly for him. He turned everywhere, and looked right passed him, unable to spot him through the boundary he cast, keeping him hidden. After a few minutes of digging around, the guy apparated away.

~ * ~ * ~

The numbness was up to his knees and elbows now. Severus dragged himself into the shop through the back door and crawled through the un-swept dirt on the ground. He flipped himself as he reached the back wall and looked up at the edge of the counter. There were a few leaves that just needed to be tipped into his mouth and the feeling would return to his limbs long enough for him to brew a cure.

He raised his wand and tried to flick, watching his hand twitch slightly. The leaves moved but looked like they were trapped under something. Severus slid sideways and did his best to lift his head, spotting a pot holding them down.

He lifted his wand again, falling back onto his back. “Circumrota,” he wheezed. The pot rotated and the leaves were pushed out from under it, falling gently to the floor. Severus moved onto his side and stuck his tongue out, licking the leaves into his mouth one by one and sucked on them until he could feel his toes.

~ * ~ * ~

After a grueling hour, his tongue no longer felt on fire, his gums no longer stung, and his throat didn’t feel like it was being pricked with every breath he took. He rubbed his neck and sat at the stool in the back of the shop, sobbing into his elbow. He gripped his wand with a trembling hand and tried his best to keep his shoulders from shaking so violently.

He felt vile. He was weak and pathetic and easy prey for the world. Why did I think things could get better? It wasn’t Hogwarts that made my life so horribly miserable. It’s me. I exist to be stepped on and beaten time and time again.

He pulled his chin to rest on his wrist, staring at a distant candle through blurry eyes. He sniffed and wiped his nose. He needed to find Lucius. He needed to join Avery and Mulciber. He needed them. He couldn’t survive on his own.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Masterlist

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Day 2 Prompt: Poisoned (snapetober day 2) + cave inimicum (Produces a boundary that keeps the caster hidden from others), confringo (produces a fiery explosion), and circumrota (Rotates objects)

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General Taglist:

@severuslovebot @bionic-otp

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[curiousconch]

Escape

Chapter 8 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: Heather attempts to escape her captors. But will she succeed?

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 1.5k+ | Genre: Crime, Suspense/Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / violence, language

Author's Notes: This chapter took me too long to complete, since I hit a creative block. Grateful for @eleanorbloom for giving me tips to overcome it (thank you! 🥰🥰🥰)

Thank you so much for taking time to read/comment/reblog this series. Please let me know if you want me to include/remove you in the tags list. Also, disclaimer: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song and an OC Jordan Anderson.

Heather held her tears at bay. Frankly, all she wanted was to let herself go.

But she can't. She didn't want to give her captors the satisfaction of seeing her break. When Declan Nash removed her blindfold, he thought it was enough to pulverize her will. Heather was determined to prove him wrong.

"I'll pick up the second dose. Start on getting rid of the pretty doctor first," she heard Nash say to the other man, right before he left.

She watched closely as another man approached her, his features slowly revealed by the dim light surrounding them. The hair at the back of her neck stood up when she recognized the face of her kidnapper.

Jordan Peter Anderson, the Edenbrook janitor. Pete, as he was mainly known.

Suddenly, it all made sense. That's how he had access to her things, how he can easily know her home address, her schedule, all details of her life without suspicion. He was just another face in the sea of people that came in and out of the hospital. A fairly common and trusted face, at that.

She just wondered how Declan was connected to him. She wanted so much to find out. But now, she had to focus on preventing herself from whimpering as Pete violently dragged her to sit on a chair. He tugged her wrists free before slamming them on a metal table. She instantly winced with the impact.

That was when she saw the back of her hand, where an IV cannula was attached to an exposed vein.

What the hell was he planning?

She found the answer sooner than she thought.

She followed his movement with her eyes as he picked up a syringe from a nearby table. It was filled with a clear liquid.

"I take it you're familiar with potassium chloride, Dr. Song?" The janitor sneered as she gazed in terror at what he was holding.

She knew. Potassium chloride overdose can cause cardiac arrest when administered via IV, and in overdose, was fatal. Her mind raced with comprehension.

He's out to kill. He's not going to spare me. This isn't just a game. Her mouth went dry, refusing to accept the possibility that she may not live another day.

Her hazel eyes can only stare at the man who was about to murder her. For a moment, she was filled with helplessness, the tiny semblance of hope in her quickly dwindling out.

No! I'll overcome this. This won't be the end of me. She willed herself to think. Heather Song is one hell of a woman and she won't come down without a fight.

When he was just a single step away from her, inspiration struck.

As he reached for her, she leaned her head back, waiting for the perfect timing. Once he was near enough, she braced for impact and gave him a headbutt. He fell down to the ground, howling in pain. Heather took the opportunity to flee, liberating herself from the chair.

As she tried to take off, a struggle ensued. She was instantly dragged backwards, the force nearly knocking her out. She felt a sharp prick on her neck before she turned and kicked the man on the groin.

He wailed. Heather didn't wait for him to recover and ran for her life, fear and desperation egging her on. Her bare feet heavily hit upon the concrete floor, as she removed the gag from her mouth.

"HELP! Someone, please help me!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, sprinting. Her bruised arms pushed back against the plastic tarps and navigated the narrow corridor blindly.

Soon, she saw an open threshold nearby. She decided to aim for it. When she was almost there, someone grabbed her from behind, making her scream. She strained to break free from the hold, only to be pulled back again.

"Heather," a voice urged. "Heather, it's me!"

She recognized the speaker, making her stop in her tracks. She turned around and looked back into the dark brown eyes of the man in front of her.

Rafael.

At the sight of him, an overwhelming sense of relief flooded her being. She leaned onto him, feeling his strong presence encapsulate her in a tight embrace.

As the panicked adrenaline to fight for her life slowly dissipated, a rush of tears stained Heather's cheeks like an overflowing dam. So she clung to him, convincing herself that she wasn't imagining him and that her whole ordeal has ended.

"It's okay, love. I'm here, you're safe." Raf whispered, his lips kissing the crown of her head.

But she wasn't.

She felt her knees begin to buckle, her whole body shook. There was a sharp pain in her chest, while her vision of Rafael slowly blurred.

The last thing she could remember was the gentleness of his touch, before her world whirled and faded into darkness.

***

He can only watch the helicopter that airlifted Heather to Edenbrook Hospital. When she was found, a syringe was stuck on her neck, and the paramedics suspected a type of poisoning. Her sudden collapse and the  unknown nature of what caused made the situation urgent, so the response team decided it was best course to fly. 

Even though he yearned to accompany her as she fought for her life, he was hastily denied that right. Rafael seized that away from him, taking it upon himself to stay with her instead.

He wanted to be the first person she sees when she wakes up, to hold her hand, to assure her that she will never have to face horrors like this anymore. But fate wasn't on his side this time. It never was. 

So Bryce chose action. He first called in ahead to give Dr. Ramsey the few details they have on hand. He couldn't bring himself to follow her to the hospital. His mind dictated that he wasn't useful there. Instead, he made himself useful somewhere else. 

And there he was, standing in the middle of the crime scene as he hang up his phone. 

Here is where I can help Heather, he thought. I have to find what was in that syringe. It might be her only hope. 

His tired eyes scanned the floor, trying to pick up any detail that may be valuable. He walked around looking down, flashlight in hand, determined to find just about any kind of clue. 

He winced when he saw blood. Heather's. His chest tightened, anger rising within him. That fucking sicko, I swear I'm gonna give him hell. 

Bryce continued prodding around until he heard a soft jingling noise, making him stop. It felt like he just kicked something. He knelt down and found a torn plastic case and a clear glass bottle. He put on his rubber gloves and picked it up, reading the label. Realizing what it was, he quickly dialed Sienna's number and waited for her to pick up. 

"Bryce?" he heard a familiar voice on the line, but it wasn't Dr. Trinh. 

"Jackie?" he felt an immediate pang of worry, hearing the frantic exchange of voices in the background. But he quickly shook the feeling away. He had to focus.

"I found something that might help Heather. There's a bottle of potassium chloride where she was taken, it's empty. I think that's what the suspect injected Heather with."

"Gimme a second," Jackie said. Bryce waited as he listened to Dr. Varma ask for Heather's blood workup from a nurse. "Her potassium levels are elevated, and she's in cardiac arrest. This makes sense, Lahela." 

"She's in cardiac arrest?" A lump in his throat formed, his grip almost slipping from the bottle he was holding. 

"Yes. But we're trying to get her out of it. Your intel's gonna help us figure the rest out," Jackie said, and he sensed her hesitation before he heard her next words. "She'll pull through. So quit yapping and get your ass over here."

The line went dead. 

It took him five minutes to scale down the building, get into his car and hit the road.

***

The environment in the ER was charged by the frantic beeping of the machine, signalling Heather's ongoing cardiac arrest. 

"We've got suspected hyperkalemia," Jackie sprinted to the doctors surrounding Heather's limp body as she got off the phone. 

"Of course," Dr. Ramsey nodded, as he referred to the latest lab results. "A potassium chloride overdose would've caused her coronary infarction. It may have also caused her temporal paralysis, making her lose consciousness. Do we have her weight?" 

"Yes, Dr. Ramsey," Sienna dictated Heather's latest weight to the senior attending, allowing for him to compute for the correct dosage for the prescription. 

"Calcium bicarbonate for the IV, Kaley please," the male doctor handed a piece of paper where he scribbled the dosage needed. 

"Don't we need to do haemodialysis?" Jackie stood beside him, as she prepared a tourniquet and tried to find a vein where the saline solution can be injected. 

"No, we aren't too late, the potassium haven't bound to the cells yet. Watch out for other symptoms though," Like a well-oiled machine, Heather's mentor gave instructions rapidly, taking the lead role in her treatment. 

The nurse went back with the prescription and Jackie setup the insertion. As the liquid began to flow, they waited and watched the heart rate monitor overhead. 

It took a few seconds before the beeping slowed down into a steady rhythm. There was a collective sigh of relief.

Heather Song just narrowly escaped death. 

Tags: @eleanorbloom @ramsey-lahela @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: “With Friends Like These”

I was on a vine kick last night because what better way to waste your time and stay up horrendously late then by watching compilations of six-second absurdity? Which reminded me that this gem exists:

“Release all the sounds trapped in your mind” only for the grinch to let out this demonic, very relatable screech. That’s me right now, folks. That sound? It’s emanating from my soul.

I don’t even know how to provide a summary of my feelings unless you all are interested in watching this vine on a loop. So let’s just drop straight into the plot.

We start with a black screen, Ruby’s voice-over repeating the message she sent out at the end of last episode, then opening onto the airship with Qrow, Clover, Robyn, and Tyrian. The group doesn’t waste any time. They jump straight into making terrible, idiotic choices that go against their established characterizations. Despite the fact that Robyn announced she had seriously misjudged Ironwood mere hours ago, she immediately takes up Team RWBY’s simplistic stance of, “We can’t let him do this!” Granted, Robyn doesn’t have all the context information that the group does, such as precisely how depleted their tropes are and that the perimeter may have already been taken out. Nevertheless, she just went through an arc wherein she expected the worst of Ironwood---you’re doing something horrific with that tower!---only to be proven horrendously wrong and admit that she’d been wrong. Robyn just held his hand, semblance activated, while he asked Mantle to stand with him in this fight. Like when the group was heading back to Ironwood’s office, Robyn isn’t inclined to even consider that Ironwood might have a good reason for making these decisions. The group as a whole has a habit of jumping straight to, “He’s betraying us??” rather than, “Wow. Shit. Something must have happened back  there that I’m not aware of. Because Ironwood has absolutely demonstrated that he never does anything without good reason. I must be missing some crucial piece of this situation if he’s suddenly declaring Martial Law.” (Which, I’d like to point out, is a temporary situation in response to an emergency... which this very much is. Characters and fandom alike are acting as if Ironwood has declared himself King of Atlas or something.) It comes down to the issue of the whole volume: one of trust. No one but the Ace Ops has put any trust in Ironwood, despite Ironwood actually working to earn that trust. A sharp contrast to the Volume 5 group who demanded Ozpin’s secrets without proving their loyalty first. Ironwood does what they couldn’t, proving his loyalty to them time and time again, only to get none of it in return. These people aren’t even willing to consider the possibility that maybe he has a good reason for making these calls. It’s not the outcome they want and is, therefore, “proof” of his antagonist status. 

So all Robyn’s growth in regards to Ironwood is immediately erased. Literally in her first line. Despite the fact that Clover starts to remind her of this, defending this assumption that Ironwood is just a crazy doing evil, crazy things (that’s Tyrian btw), but of course he’s interrupted. His scroll chimes, revealing the arrest warrant out on RWBYJNROQ.

Now, I’ve seen a lot of people freaking out about this image since it dropped yesterday, using it as more evidence for how cruel and unfair Ironwood is. “What’s he got against Oscar? Or Qrow? See! He’s just gunning for all of them, regardless of whether they did anything wrong.” Except that Ironwood isn’t stupid. (When the writing remembers that he’s not, anyway.) He is well aware that this group is a unit. They’re joined at the hip. Once Ruby decides something that’s it, everyone follows. Ironwood’s goal coming into all this was never to arrest them. The only reason he decided on that course of action is because Team RWBY made it crystal clear that would work to keep him from saving Atlas at the expense of Mantle. Thus, what he’s aiming for is not truly “Arrest these people” but “Keep these people from standing in my way,” which Ironwood simply can’t accomplish if only Team RWBY is in custody. He knows very well that there are five other people out there who will immediately take up their cause. This might have been a different situation if Ruby herself hadn’t announced across all their scrolls that this is Ironwood’s plan and we have to stop him. That was unambiguously a call to arms: stop him like we’re trying to stop him now. So yes, Ironwood is absolutely going to put out an arrest for Qrow and Oscar as well. He doesn’t know Oscar’s situation with Neo. He doesn’t know that Qrow would be faithful to him---and indeed he’s absolutely not.  

As Qrow begins stoking his own anger, Robyn moves from a character I legitimately liked and rooted for to someone I wasn’t at all sad to cut out of the  episode via unconsciousness. She’s straight up arrogant here, labeling Ironwood’s choice as an “inhuman plan” despite not knowing what that plan is or why it’s necessary, following that up with, “Looks like he underestimated me again.” Look, I’m not inclined to be all polite and peace-keeping in this recap---RWBY hasn’t earned that---so there’s going to be a lot of salt this time around. I just want to give everyone fair warning in case that’s not your cup of tea. That established, I want to be blunt in saying: get over yourself, Robyn. This has nothing to do with you. She acts as if it’s a personal slight, as if rather than making the hard call to try and save as many people as he can, Ironwood spent last episode twirling his non-existent mustache and thinking up nefarious plans specifically to slight her. The fandom wants to talk about unstable characters? That’s Robyn here. Ironwood might shout and look terrified, but he’s taking the time to think through his actions before implementing them, considering each option before deciding on what he believes is the solution best suited to their survival. Robyn might seem calm and confident, but she’s jumping to conclusions and is the first to raise her weapon, threatening Clover while he’s attempting to approach this issue peacefully. It reminds me of that point in regards to arguments: just because someone is emotional doesn’t mean they’re wrong and just because someone can keep calm doesn’t mean they’re right. Robyn puts on a good show, but she’s more interested in maintaining her former, simplistic view of Ironwood---I knew he was out to get me!---and perceiving personal attacks against her, rather than grappling with what’s actually happening or, heaven forbid, getting more information before aiming an arrow at Clover’s head. 

As Qrow joins her in being pissed I have to ask... did he just forget who Salem is?

Because Ruby announced that. “Salem is coming.” I love how the writing just has all the characters ignore what is the most crucial part of this entire dilemma. Team RWBY doesn’t get to spout generic “We can do it!” without acknowledging, let alone finding a way to circumvent, the issue of an immortal sorceress bearing down on them. Same with Qrow here. If anything he should be the most inclined to prioritize what’s actually important in this situation, considering that he’s known about Salem for far longer and has an even better picture of what she’s capable of. But he just ignores it too. Rather then recognizing that Clover doesn’t want to arrest him but has a responsibility to, that Ironwood may well have very good reasons for doing this considering Qrow doesn’t know what the hell his kids have been up to while he’s away, that now is not the time to join in Robyn’s fight when Salem herself is approaching, that allowing himself to be arrested would likewise allow him to speak to Ironwood like he wants to, given how sympathetic Clover is to him and would no doubt take him straight to Ironwood if he asked... Qrow, like the rest of the RWBYJNR group, decides that fighting is the only answer.

It comes down to maturity, something our heroes simply don’t have. Regardless of literal ages they act like children throwing tantrums. The second they don’t get precisely what they want they jump to violence as their solution. If you don’t adhere to my whim then I will fight you until you either agree (Cordovin) or are too injured to stop me (the Ace Ops). No, Yang, you don’t have to fight every single battle that comes your way. Especially when this group is creating those battles in the first place. No one made them launch an attack on Argus in the form of first stealing military property and then choosing to attack Cordovin when she gave them the option of surrendering. No one made them plant themselves in front of Ironwood and give the verbal/body language equivalent of announcing that Ironwood will have to forcibly move them if he wants to succeed. And then when he does that the writing and the fandom act like Ironwood attacked out of the blue, rather than accepting the gauntlet that Team RWBY threw down. They’re violent. They’re callous. They’re arrogant. In two volumes we haven’t seen them display an ounce of compassion or humility towards those not in their little circle, from renouncing the adults in their lives, to ignoring Ozpin, to betraying Ironwood left and right and then acting like he still owes them anything. These people are not heroes and Qrow is very quickly joining them.

I find it hilariously ironic that last week people were screaming over how Ironwood is “Doing precisely what the villains want,” as if it’s possible to make hard, morally complex calls like this without creating division. Salem’s win there is inevitable. It is straight up impossible for Ironwood to do ANYTHING that doesn’t create some kind of discord among the people and his allies. He decides to leave Mantle? Team RWBY is upset. Stick around for a suicide mission? Ace Ops are upset. Refuse to make a decision and demand that someone else shoulder this weight for once? Everyone is upset because how dare you, you’re our leader. It’s a rigged setup---which is precisely why Salem is so hard to beat---so people need to stop acting like Ironwood had an out here that he simply refused to take. But I’m getting off track. That response is hilarious because you know who does do precisely what the villains want while actually having the option not to?

Robyn and Qrow.

Tyrian is literally sitting there laughing over this “show” and hoping that they’ll fight, giving him the chance to escape. He says as much. Please fight. To which Robyn responds, “He’s right. Let’s get this over with” and shoots at Clover.

“He’s right.”

“HE’S RIGHT.”

I don’t know how much more on-the-nose it can be. The villain clearly expresses what he wants to happen, a supposed hero verbally agrees with him, and then does that exact thing. But sure. Ironwood is the one playing into the villains’ hands. All of which doesn’t even touch on Qrow willingly teaming up with Tyrian later on, but we’ll get to that.

Obviously during the ensuing fight Tyrian does get free (who would have thought...) and kills the pilot of the ship. So congratulations, Robyn. Your supposed desire to defend the people just got one of them needlessly killed. That was entirely preventable and extending responsibility past the actual murderer, it’s on her that this guy died.

The airship begins to crash and Qrow... randomly freaks out about it? I’m endlessly confused by character strength in the show. Jumping out of airships is a repeated activity that’s treated as a game. We just watched the group nonchalantly leaving a burning, plummeting, also-had-a-grimm attached to it airship at the beginning of the Mantle battle, but now suddenly one crashing is this super big deal? That Qrow is going to panic about? That manages to take out Robyn? Okay...

Anyway they crash and we segue to Winter. And I just have to say: god bless Winter Schnee.

FINALLY someone with some common sense. As soon as Winter sees the arrest warrant she asks herself, “Weiss... what did you do?” Because yeah! They did do something! Winter is the only character who acknowledges that maybe, just possibly, our precious Team RWBY messed things up. That they’re capable of making mistakes. Unlike Robyn and Qrow she doesn’t jump to, “Oh my god you’re arresting my sister?” but rather keeps her head and acknowledges that if the general who has done nothing but treat her sister with respect and compassion since she arrived now wants her in custody... he probably has a damn good reason for that. This is a switch from the start of the volume when Winter reamed out the guards for putting Weiss in handcuffs rather than first seeing why she was chained up in the first place, but it’s a switch I’m here for.

She and Penny then get into a conversation about choices and demonstrations of grief. Winter points out what I’ve been arguing for the last week: just because someone doesn’t waste time sobbing over a hard decision doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt them to make it, and just because a decision is hard doesn’t mean it’s not the right call under these circumstances. “The general is making hard choices so that we don’t have to. For the good of all, not just the few,” Winter says and I want to reach right through my computer screen and give her a kiss for being the one compassionate, level-headed character right now. Penny, however, isn’t convinced. “I do not see what is good about any of this,” she says, rejecting Winter holding her hands in a way she didn’t reject Ruby doing it (surprise, surprise). It’s notable though that Winter responds with, “On that we can agree.” That right there is the kicker. Just because you’ve chosen the best of two options doesn’t mean either option is good. It just means one is less shitty. Winter is perfectly willing to admit that there’s nothing actually good in this situation, but she likewise admits that Ironwood isn’t wrong for shouldering the lesser evil so that no one else has to. That’s the sort of nuanced perspective we deserved from Team RWBY.

Instead, they’re insisting on a perfect happy ending in a world that they know damn well doesn’t allow for that. There’s a difference between being hopeful and striving for an “impossible” outcome when feasible, vs. allowing that “It’s a perfect ending or nothing” perspective keep you from making any progress at all. Team RWBY would rather watch both Mantle and Atlas burn in their attempts to reach perfection than to admit that sometimes that’s just not possible. They’re Blake, telling Yang that she never ever wants to be put into a situation where she has to kill again while likewise refusing to take the steps---dropping out of the war, not being a huntress, etc.---that would allow for that. She wants impossible things built on a kinder world and while of course it’s completely understandable why she wants that and while it’s heroic to strive for that world in the long-term... none of that means anyone is going to get it right now. They have got to balance pragmatism with blind, hopeful naivety. Especially when there are so many lives on the line. The truly devastating things is we could have seen that this volume. If the story had allowed the group to talk about Salem, reconcile with Ozpin, pool his knowledge with what Ruby knows about her eyes hurting Cinder, allowed Maria to actually function as a mentor, training her, combining this psychologically-based weapon with Ruby’s fears and flaws, allowed for growth... then we could have gotten a fight where instead of the group just going, “We have to try!” they could counter with, “This is how we try. You prepare Atlas for evacuation if necessary. We’ll work on getting everyone in Mantle out, hopefully using my silver eyes as a last resort. If it comes to it? You can leave us behind. But we have to at least take a chance on this to save as many people as possible.” That would have been heroic and can you imagine the possibilities for the future? Salem actually attacking head on only to face the first Silver Eyed Warrior since Maria capable of doing damage. Being so shocked by that that she retreats, re-setting her status as a villain who prefers to keep her distance, immortality aside. The group getting definitive proof that there may be a way to win, even if it’s going to be a long, hard slog to beat Salem’s magic, her army, and her immortality in the long run. The hope is there though, supported through what we’ve seen on screen, and the group manages to save Mantle by working with Ironwood, rather than insisting that Ironwood work with them based on nothing. 

Obviously none of that happens. Rather, here Penny is adopting the exact same mindset of the group: hope based on nothing and therefore dangerous. Normally I would chalk this up to her being a robot and not understanding such complexities, but it’s clear she’s meant to be a stand-in for Team RWBY here, challenging Winter as she parallels Ironwood. Everything from the pissed-off tone to pulling her hands away demonstrates that Penny, like Team RWBY, isn’t even willing to entertain the idea of a hard choice. They’re all still Pyrrhas, preferring to kill themselves rather than retreat. Except that in this case they’re insisting that everyone else die with them.

While Penny coldly walks away from Winter the fight between RWBY and the Ace Ops starts... and it’s just as absurd as I knew it was going to be. Please note throughout that, like Clover, the actual adults in the room are the only ones willing to compromise. Harriet makes it clear that she will not start this fight. She emphasizes that an arrest is only “Until this is sorted out...” As established, the only reason why they’re being arrested at all is because RWBY made it clear that they would actively stand in the way of Ironwood doing his job. They betrayed him first---as Elm will later point out---and they all but announced that they will continue to betray him so long as they’re free. You created this situation. Here, that agency is repeated. “We’re not doing anything. They decide what happens next.” You can still walk away from this and accept that you’ve made a mistake. It’s another Cordovin situation. Ruby has the choice to attack an ally or act mature for once and not make things worse... she decides to make things worse.

(Also I despise Yang’s little, “Really?” when Harriet closes down the room like... please lose the attitude. Just for five seconds. I’m begging you.)

Marrow is hesitant as most assumed he would be but he nevertheless stands by his team. Especially once Harriet makes it clear that they’re not going to unduly attack these teenagers. They will only defend themselves. It’s Ruby blasting through the doors that kicks things off, but not before she sets up the “justification” for how these drop-out second years beat the best huntsmen in all of Atlas.

“You were... then you trained us.”

Really? That’s the explanation? A few training sessions beats full schooling and years more experience/practice? I knew the show was going to give us some BS reason for why the group was able to beat what’s quite possibly the most elite team in the entire world at this point, but this is still straight-up absurd. At this point I suppose Team RWBY really doesn’t need anyone else. Adults have never once helped them---we did it all ourselves!---everyone else is always wrong, and they’re the most powerful now, so obviously they don’t even have anything else to learn technique-wise. Good. Great. Thanks, I hate it.

Also, let’s just talk about manipulation for a second. Later on Qrow will accuse Clover of this, claiming he’s manipulating him by saying that he should surrender since Robyn needs help... even though that’s just a straight up fact. Robyn is injured. She does need help, and she won’t get it so long as Qrow insists on picking a fight with someone who does not want to fight him. Even if everyone agrees that Clover is 100% in the wrong for trying to arrest Qrow in the first place, someone’s life potentially being on the line kind of supersedes that. Idk about you all but if someone getting medical help rested on me turning myself in... I’d turn myself in. Clearly Qrow doesn’t give a damn about Robyn if he’s willing to place his freedom over her safety and Clover is right to point that out. What is manipulation though? Ruby’s talk with Harriet. Notice the staggering difference in tone. She’s pure cocky confidence when she announces that the Ace Ops are no longer the best huntsmen in Atlas and then the second Harriet manages to slam Ruby into the wall her entire presentation changes. “You know we need to be working together!” she cries. Her voice is childish again, the arrogance is gone, she’s putting the responsibility on Harriet to “work together” even though Ruby, all of three seconds ago, is the only who rejected Harriet’s offer that they didn’t need to fight. And this only happens when Ruby is in a position where it looks like she’s losing. Oh no, Harriet actually managed to catch me and slam me into the elevator hard enough to dent it? Clearly she won’t be as easy to beat as I thought, so let’s act like a vulnerable kid again begging you to do the “right” thing, instead of a confident huntress starting this fight in the first place... that’s manipulation. Ruby is deliberately changing how she portrays both herself and the situation depending on whether or not she’s getting what she wants, aka winning.

Harriet responds to that precisely as she should: “Don’t give me that crap.”

Really, the whole fight is an exercise in frustration as Team RWBY endlessly refuses to admit that they could ever do anything wrong. Elm shouts that they betrayed them first and all Blake cares about is how they’re betraying the people now. Just swipe our sins under the rug because clearly they don’t matter, to say nothing of the fact that those sins led to this conflict in the first place. Yang snidely announces that, “It’s not worth it, Blake. They’re just following orders” even though that is straight up not the case. You’ve been lying since Volume 5, Yang, so forgive me if I’m not about to take you at your word. Especially when I just watched a full ten minutes last week straight up proving you wrong.

Honestly does Rooster Teeth think we’re not watching the show? That they can just make new claims each week and have us not remember the blatant contrasts that came before it, stuff that they provided? It’s like this every episode now. Whatever we see happening on screen is quickly erased and replaced with whatever Team RWBY believes and I’m so completely over it.

The whole fight is just stupidity incarnate. Not the animation---beautiful there---but everything else is a chore to watch. I enjoy how we get not one, but TWO moments where the Ace Ops announce that they’re not going to hold back anymore... only to then have the group immediately beat them after that announcement. Marrow’s true power is hinted at with, “I’m trying to arrest her, not kill her” only for Weiss to take him out with one shot when he finally uses his semblance. Vine and Elm talk about how they’re going to take this fight seriously now, only for Yang to beat them both easy-peasy immediately afterward. It doesn’t get much more contrived than that. None of the group even needed to help one another, with the exception of Blake and Yang who are, of course, never ever separated (not even in a clear 4v4 battle). I could maybe buy one of the group getting lucky and then two or three teaming up to take out another Ace Op. If Ruby took advantage of Harriet’s exhaustion after the battle and then went to help Weiss take out Marrow together. But no. No one needs any assistance. I mean yeah, Weiss throws up an ice barrier, but it’s clear Ruby didn’t need the help. Especially after getting the cuffs around Harriet. Weiss just hurried things along.

Afterwards the group isn’t even winded and all their auras are intact. It’s insane. And you know what I kept thinking the whole time? Ironwood gave you all those armor and weapon upgrades. Yang relies heavily on Atlas bombs in this fight. Based on Ruby’s comment, their ability to go head-to-head with the Ace Ops at all lies in what they taught them. We’re talking about betrayals? It really hits home that the group’s victory is built on all the trust they were shown by others. The training and the weapons and the resources and the safety and the support and the time to improve their skills. Then Team RWBY turned around and attacked them with it.

We end that battle with Maria and Pietro showing up. Maria, oh so shockingly, turns it all into a joke. “This is the part where they ask us to help.” Team RWBY? Facing criticism, or even just suspicion when caught with a bunch of unconscious military personnel? Nah. Just give ‘em a hand!

The only part I liked in this fight was Weiss’ comment about Mantle being her home. That’s a motivation I could get behind, not just a general, “We can’t abandon the people!” but an emotional attachment to her kingdom that blinds her to the hard realities of the situation. It’s too bad that wasn’t explored further.

We then move onto JNR and honestly? I found this scene to be a bit underwhelming. Granted, I liked the setup between Nora, Neo, and Oscar. Seeing “Oscar” standing in the hallway and smiling in a way that we knew immediately was Neo made for a wonderfully creepy and briefly tense moment. Kudos there. 

What I like less is:

1. Not getting to see that initial fight between Oscar and Neo. All his characterization keeps happening off screen.

2. Still no Ozpin. By denying us that first encounter we likewise lost the presumed resolution of Ozpin providing aid, either by speaking to Oscar or taking over the fight.

3. Connected to 2... since when the hell can Oscar survive Neo for an undetermined length of time? I mean seriously. Which is it, Rooster Teeth? Is Oscar still so weak that it’s oh-so-obvious why he wouldn’t help a team of thirteen others fight a geist, or is he so strong he can 1v1 Neo until JNR shows up? Because the discrepancy between those is massive. There’s not even an implication that Oscar just successfully hid from her or something. When he appears he straight up lands a punch on her, despite telegraphing it in the most obvious way possible.

It’s just so, so messy. There’s no consistency at all anymore. Neo can take on a Maiden but gets blindsided by a barely-trained kid all but screaming, “I’m going to punch you now!”? Alright. Sure. I don’t know why I’m even surprised at this point. 

So it’s Team JNOR vs. Neo next episode. Obviously if Oscar can handle her himself then the four of them should take her out in an instant.

We return to Penny and Winter where she says, “I hope it’s painless for her,” referring to losing the Maiden during the transfer. Obviously this post is more salt than meta so here, have some more: Penny is an absolute brat here. “You said your personal feelings don’t matter.” I don’t care if she’s a robot, Penny knows enough to understand the situation and realize that a comment like that is just straight up cruel. If she fundamentally disagreed with what Winter said in the hallway then she would have left like Team RWBY. Instead she’s here, acknowledging that even if she doesn’t like this, they’re both making the right call in helping Winter gain the Maiden powers and then retreating from Salem. So don’t twist the knife by implying that Winter is so heartless she doesn’t even care about the Maiden’s comfort. You don’t get to assist in this and drag Winter for the same exact thing. 

Winter is astoundingly patient with her attitude, precisely how Ironwood was patient with the group criticizing and yelling at him all volume. She explains that of course she still feels badly. You can wrestle with your feelings while still taking action, something Team RWBY (and most of the fandom) clearly doesn’t get. Penny at least admits that she thinks she understands now, which is more growth in a sentence then we’ve gotten from Team RWBY in two volumes. We also see that Winter does intend to use the machine to transfer the power, something we’re not even sure works yet considering that Pyrrha never got to complete the process (the Volume 3 parallels aren’t at all subtle).

Which is when Cinder shows up. She obviously kills all the guards and blasts through the doors, demonstrating just a small sampling of her power. Penny recognizes her as the one who orchestrated her death and announces that she has “feelings” about it. So it’s a Penny and Winter vs. Cinder fight as well next week. For the record, this is a moment when you don’t back down from a fight. When standing your ground through violence is heroic rather than immature and dangerous. What I’m getting at is: Penny and Winter are best girls at the moment. Level-headed, heroic, compassionate, and when they’re not they learn from that. They grow. Thank god at least some characters are still marginally intact. 

All of which finally brings us back to Qrow and the others. 4,000 words in and my fingers are tired, but I’ll attempt to give this fight the attention it deserves lol.

The airship has crashed almost directly below Amity Arena---that’s some kind of setup. Could Watts still be inside?---and, as mentioned, Robyn is rendered unconscious during the crash and clearly needs help. Qrow goes so far as to check her pulse. We get that “manipulation” on Clover’s part which is really just him laying out precisely what the situation is: you can either fight me when neither of us want that, endangering Robyn in the process, or you can accept being arrested, get her help, and we’ll see if we can work things out back in Atlas. “We don’t have to fight, friend,” he says and Qrow scoffs at that. Because remember, he’s Yang’s uncle too. This family never backs down from a fight, even a needless one, and you’re only their “friend” if you do precisely what they want at all times. Otherwise you’re an enemy. Even when there are clearly real enemies standing right beside you. 

Now, I’m already seeing absolutely illogical posts claiming that Tyrian manipulated Qrow and... no. Just no. That’s not at all what happened. First off, it’s clear before Tyrian even gets involved again that Qrow is hell-bent on making bad decisions all on his own. As said, he’s prioritizing fighting Clover over getting Robyn help, or dealing with Salem, or literally anything else that’s a bigger issue right now. Qrow isn’t thinking. I mean, what does he even intend to do if he somehow manages to beat both Clover and Tyrian on his own (when he couldn’t even beat Tyrian solo in Volume 4)? Is he going to take Robyn back to Atlas himself? The city where he’s still a wanted man? The city Clover already wants to take him to, even if it’s in handcuffs? What’s he going to do with the serial killer exceptionally skilled at breaking out of his bonds? What’s he going to do with an exhausted or unconscious Clover? Leave him out there in the cold? The cold that both Weiss and our recent heating crisis insists can kill you very quickly without aura? Here is another, beautiful example of our “heroes” emphasizing fighting as the go-to answer without considering the repercussions of that. Qrow doesn’t need Tryian to manipulate him into bad decisions. He’s doing a great job of it all on his own.

When Tryian does arrive though---and for the record him dislocating his thumb was great. I have dislocated my thumb before, folks, and it’s a ride---Qrow WILLINGLY teams up with him. Just like Robyn going, “He’s right” there is precisely zero ambiguity here.

Tyrian offers to work with Qrow to take out Clover and Qrow agrees. Full stop. That’s what happened. He had all the information, all his own agency, and he made that decision all on his own. He literally teams up with the villain to take out an ally. “No wait,” I see posts saying, “Qrow never wanted to kill Clover! He just wanted to get him to stop fighting. It’s not his fault it ended like that...” Excuse me, but what do you think serial killers do? He NEVER could have IMAGINED that TYRIAN might BETRAY him people say, as if that’s not the entire basis of Tyrian’s character. He kills people and laughs about it. It’s his thing and thus there is no justification for trusting him, only stupidity. Which doesn’t even include Qrow just gunning for Clover in the first place. He needs Clover to beat someone like Tyrian---we proved that through a comparison of Volume 4 with last week’s battle---but yeah, sure, team up with Salem’s henchmen to take out your friend, banking on the fact that Tyrian won’t do a single naughty thing along the way and that you will somehow be able to take him out solo after it’s all done. This? This is on Qrow.

I mean it’s mostly on Tyrian for doing the actual killing, I hope people get that, but it’s also on Qrow. When Tyrian says, “You mean like how you just killed Clover?” he’s not just talking about a framing, Qrow left alone with airships landing and his own weapon covered in blood. He set up the scenario that led directly to Clover’s death. He attacked and willfully endangered an ally. He is culpable.

The fact that Qrow is screaming beforehand, “Why couldn’t you just do the right thing instead of the thing you were told?!” while Clover announces that, “I trust James with my life and I wanted to trust you” just makes it all the more worse. RWBYJNROQ has no trust for anyone outside of their own team. Ironwood and the Ace Ops all trusted them and had hopped that they could trust them in turn. Each and every time our “heroes” betrayed that trust horrifically. Qrow’s actions here are the ultimate demonstration of that. Rather than trusting Clover to take him in and working through this situation together, Qrow decides that he trusts Tyrian more. Literally that’s what it came down to. I trust Tyrian to have my back more than I trust you to help me through an arrest we don’t understand yet... and wow. That’s just one hell of a stance to take.

And Qrow then has the gall to blame Ironwood for this. Which just sets my blood on fire. Like full on, “Remember this is a fictional show, Clyde, and tone done the emotional investment” anger. Because it’s not just that Qrow is straight-up delusional here. I mean, I’m sorry, but did Ironwood force Robyn to take a shot at Clover? Was Ironwood out in this wasteland forcing you to put your trust in Tyrian over an ally you’ve spent weeks befriending? No, Qrow doesn’t get to let himself off the hook here. This is precisely the same absurd “logic” the fandom uses on Ozpin in regards to Pyrrha. He never got her killed. Pyrrha chose to go fight Cinder herself, expressly against Ozpin’s wishes. Here, Ironwood did not get Clover killed. Qrow decided to fight him and team up with Tyrian, expressly against Ironwood’s wishes of merely sidelining them until he can get Atlas to safety. So Qrow is lying to himself. Completely. Which could be a really compelling situation wherein Qrow must come to grips with his own guilt and learn not to blame Ironwood for his own choices, except...

The narrative supports it.

Again.

Because Qrow says, “James will take the fall” and Clover smiles a happy, serene smile up at him. Gone is the loyalty to Ironwood---something we saw just seconds ago---and in its place is the non-verbal agreement that Ironwood is at fault for this and yes, please make sure he pays for it.

I honestly stand amazed at how Rooster Teeth can take one of my favorite characters and so quickly screw him up, making me hate him in the process. Like I still love Qrow, but currently it’s in the same way I love the rest of the group: for who they were before Volume 6 and 7 slammed in to butcher everything good about them. 

Finally, we need to end on a note that goes beyond just frustration at a web series and into some real life implications: the bury your gays trope. While Rooster Teeth is clearly trying in regards to their queer representation, as of this episode they’ve ultimately done more harm than good. Ilia, as I wrote back in Volume 5, was a terrible introduction to queer characters in a story built around heroic women, drawing not just from aspects of the psycho lesbian trope but “redeeming” her in a matter of minutes to try and distance her sexuality from her status as a villain. Saphron and Terra, while absolutely lovely, are still just minor characters that the story has now entirely forgotten (which, notably, same with Ilia). Blake and Yang are the primary queer ship in the works... but they’re not canon yet. Oh, I believe wholeheartedly that Rooster Teeth is setting things up and that they’re not at all subtle about it---I’m not here to argue that they’re “just friends”---but until we’re given actual, on screen acknowledgment of their sexuality and/or relationship it remains in the realm of interpretation, no matter how “obvious” it may seem to some. Hinting at queerness is no longer an appropriate stand-in for clear representation. Meanwhile, in regards to the men, Rooster Teeth has taken their most queer coded character, Ozpin, and not only crafted his character around the fact that he is endlessly doomed to die, but then wrote him out of the story for nearly two whole volumes, potentially longer depending on how our finale goes. That’s a different kind of “death” in storytelling. Even if we can’t literally kill you off, we can orchestrate a situation wherein we just don’t have to deal with you.

Now, there’s Qrow and Clover. I’ve spoken elsewhere about how in their case I do think there’s a solid argument for “just friends,” but there’s an equal argument for more and the mere existence of that puts a really horrible taste in my mouth when I watch Clover get gutted on screen. Qrow has relationships with other men in the series and they’re not nearly as soft as what he had with Clover. Again, their setup isn’t in the realm of Blake/Yang with obvious hand-holding and massive blushes, but there’s a definite encouragement to at least think about reading them as flirting. Besides Ozpin---which we’ve discussed---Clover is the only one Qrow has quite, philosophical talks with. He’s the only one besides the kids who he teases and gets teased in turn. The final image of them, this one,

pulls from a number of romantic tropes. The partner kneeling by the body of their lover. The romantic colors in the setting sun. Qrow’s skyward scream and his vow of revenge, drawing parallels between other RWBY relationships like Jaune and Pyrrha. Rooster Teeth may not have queer baited with the same callous intensity as some shows, but they welcomed that perspective nonetheless and then killed Clover in a bloody, horrific fashion. That doesn’t leave me feeling like I can trust them as writers, even ignoring everything else the last two years. Especially when they butchered Qrow’s characterization to achieve this. Bad enough you kill off a potential gay, but you do it through a needless fight and one of our most street-smart characters putting his trust in Tryian, of all people? Honestly, shame on them.

The only good thing that came out of all this? The part of the fandom that saw Clover’s death coming a mile away. You all deserve to shout out a massive, “Told you so!” this week because I’ve seen the absolutely visceral hate you’ve received for a well-supported---and now proven---theory. Can’t say I’m surprised the fandom did that to you, but I am sorry. So grab hold of that flimsy sliver lining. I’m just likewise sorry the theory came about in such a dissatisfying, upsetting way.

And that’s it. Next week is the finale. I’m looking forward to it, if only so we can be done with the canon for another year. Because y i k e s. 

Until then 💜

[galadrieljones]

The Lily Farm - Chapter 42

AO3 | Masterpost

Rating: M (Mature) - sexual content, violence, and adult themes

Summary: To help her process Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. He agrees, and on their journey to the north, they find quietude and take comfort in their easy bond. They’ve been friends for a while now, but life, like the wilderness, is full of uncertainty and complications, and as they embark on their desperate search for meaning together, they endure many trials, some small, some big—all of which bring them closer to one another, and to their future.

Chapter 42: Hello, Friends and Enemies.

1.

That night, Arthur had been summoned to a big, fancy room full of heavy furniture and mahogany bookshelves up on the river boat’s second floor. He had been asked to leave his table by a man named Jean Marc Mercier, who looked and seemed like a squirrel. Initially, he thought that it was because he had swept, suspiciously so—$11,000 in total winnings—but he was allowed to cash in his chips with little question. Despite some grumbling amongst the patrons as the games went on, he was frisked for aces up his sleeve only once, by a huge pit boss with one prominent gold tooth. Everybody believed that he had won fair and square, and by the laws of nature, he had. Was it truly cheating to outsmart the rich? He reckoned that, for this skill, he was thankful. It was about the only thing his piece of shit father had given him that he would not trade.

After a couple minutes of waiting and thinking he was perhaps being tested, Arthur finally learned who this boat belonged to, and whose party it was. Mayor Lemieux of St. Denis came in through another door, behind the long desk at the top of the room. The door had been hidden and just looked like part of the wall, and this did not unnerve Arthur but it did surprise him.

“Mr. Mayor?” he said.

“Mr. Kilgore,” said Lemieux. “Thank you for meeting me. And for attending the festivities tonight. It is...dare I say...an honor."

“What—I mean, how you keeping, sir?”

“I am well,” said Lemieux, his hands clasped judiciously. “I heard you made out quite impressively at the tables tonight.”

“Yes, sir.” Arthur patted his left lapel. "Quite impressively."

“Very good. It is about time somebody won around here who was not raised by the silver spoon.”

He had got the expression nearly right, thought Arthur. He nodded and went along. “So what’s this about?”

“I have a proposition for you, Mr. Kilgore,” said Lemieux. He was short and he wore a schlubby French-cut suit the color of sea water. He poured them each a little whiskey into a crystal high ball glass. “I hear you’ve got a child on the way. I thought you might be in the market for some…security.”

Arthur gave him a look. “Where the hell’d you hear that?”

“Evelyn Miller,” said Lemieux, his thick accent. “We had lunch the other day. He let it slip.”

“I see,” said Arthur. He felt weird. He looked around. The little squirrel man Jean Marc was gone, and they were alone. “What sort of proposition you looking to make?”

“I’d like you to take care of something for me,” said Lemieux, leaning against the desk, crossing one leg over the other. “Or, someone, rather.”

“You want me to kill somebody?”

“I prefer the term redistribute, but of course, I am French.”

“That, you are.” Arthur sipped his whiskey. It was Kentucky bourbon, but an expensive label. It was like warm weather, soaking his insides. “I ain’t a hitman, Mr. Mayor. You ought to know that before we begin the proceedings.”

“Yes, I figured you would say as much. Though I thought perhaps I could convince you otherwise.”

“How so.”

“I am close associates with Leviticus Cornwall," said Lemieux. "Though I despise him. He is a filthy fucker, but he is good to know.”

“Leviticus Cornwall," mused Arthur. "The oil guy?”

Lemieux gave him a wise look. “The oil guy, yes.”

“I hope you ain’t asking me to kill Leviticus Cornwall, Mr. Mayor.” Arthur chuckled. “Because even if I was a hit-for-hire, that sort of job is too big for me.”

“I would never ask after such crassness.”

“Well, good.”

“I am asking for you to kill Angelo Bronte.”

Arthur almost choked on his whiskey. “Angelo Bronte?”

“You heard me,” said Lemieux. He changed his tone then, but he did not change his posture. He was sharp. He did not show his hand, nor did he communicate any hint of it in his face. He was a nightmare sort, a politician. “I owe that guappo piece of shit far more than I care to repay, and I want him dead.”

“I ain’t sure that’s how debts work, Mr. Mayor. At least not in polite society. Then again, I sure ain't speaking from experience.”

“He has made a mockery of me and of my city,” continued Lemieux. “I am through entertaining mafiosi thugs in St. Denis. I want him out. Of course, I cannot ask him to leave. He must be…removed.”

Arthur swigged his whiskey. He felt warm around his collar. He wanted to get the fuck out of there and was getting annoyed. “That is quite the sob story, Mr. Mayor. I'm sorry to hear it."

“I thought, perhaps, you’d consider, given that you have now stolen from me, and from Mr. Cornwall. Two powerful men of powerful means. Given the trajectory of Cornwall’s Pinkerton attack dogs, and your...what is it called...outlaw gang? It is possible you wish to remain free, no? I can give this to you, if you are willing to reciprocate.”

"How the hell do you know I stole from Cornwall?”

“The men at the Heartlands run-off saw you,” said Lemieux, smiling. “And the Pinkertons, they know who you are, what you look like. You're a recognizable man. Plus, upon some questioning, Mr. Miller confirmed this for me. He is easily persuaded these days. All it took was for me to threaten further withholdings from his dear natives to the north.”

"Withholdings?"

"Vaccines. Surely, you've heard of them."

Arthur shook his head, disbelieving. "You ain't got that sort of power," he said. "You're a goddam mayor. Ain't no senator, no army general. I may be me but I wasn't born yesterday. You can't deny vaccines to a native tribe in Ambarino territory."

“Power by association is just as effective as power itself,” said Lemieux, adjusting his spectacles. “In any case, all that matters is what Miller was willing to believe. He sold you out. Granted, he felt badly about it.”

“I still don’t understand,” said Arthur. “Are you threatening me?”

“Of course not, Mr. Arthur,” he said, sipping his whiskey.

“Then what the hell is this about?"

“I just thought that, since there are Pinkerton detectives currently on this river boat, you might wish to slip away, in secret of course, with your pregnant wife, safely back to shore. Now, if you wish to be difficult, then that is another story.”

“Why the hell would there be Pinkertons here on this river boat.”

“Because they received a tip, from me.”

“What sort of tip?”

“That Dutch van der Linde was in St. Denis," said Lemieux, removing his hat, "and that one of his associates would be here, gambling, tonight.”    

Arthur stared at him, hard, trying to see if he was bluffing. “You got to be kidding me.”  

“All I need is for your word,” said Lemieux, still unmoved by the conversation, cold as a stone.

“My word.”

“That you will redistribute Bronte to a higher—or lower—plane. I have no interest in your religious or other affiliations per the aftermath of death, Mr. Arthur. Kill him. As soon as possible. And I’ll change my story with the Pinkertons. Off you'll go.”

Arthur set down the heavy-bottomed glass on the desk. He set it down so hard, the whole desk shook. He looked at his boots and where they stood upon the heavy wood of the floor. It had been a long time since he’d felt this sort of anger. He was sick with it, sick of people like this, threatening those and all he held dear. “I ain’t gonna do that,” said Arthur. “I kill Bronte, you got me on the hook for life. The answer is no.”

Lemieux sighed, blinked, almost startled, like he was waiting for Arthur to change his mind. “That is too bad.”

"Maybe. But if I’m the sort of outlaw who would kill Bronte, what makes you think I won’t kill you? Right here, right now. For threatening me, for threatening my wife. This is a very bad choice you're making, Mr. Mayor.”

“Because,” said Lemieux. “You’re not the sort of outlaw who would kill Bronte. I know this about you. I just thought, perhaps, with a child on the way, you’d be more desperate.”

“You don’t know nothing about me.”

“Clearly. You know, I meant for this to be Dutch,” he said. He straightened up off the desk, began walking toward the door. “I gave Bronte’s thugs that false tip about the trolley station. I thought Dutch would rob the place, and upon realizing the set-up…react. Poorly. Kill Bronte of his own accord, out of some ill-advised revenge. Of course, I underestimated him, and you, for that matter. I did not know outlaws conducted reconnaissance.”

“All due respect, Mr. Mayor, but fuck you.”

Lemieux shrugged. “How it goes, sometimes. I'll have to find another means."

When the gunshots broke out below then, both men looked at one another. Surprised. Arthur didn't know what the hell was going on, but it was nothing good. It was not happening this way. He took advantage of the uncertainty and put Lemieux's lights out with one single blast from his fist. It was satisfying. He swore, shook out his knuckles, left the mayor heavily unconscious on the hard wood.

Doing his best to evade the chaos, Arthur ran into LaBoeuf in the stairwell on his way down to the boiler room, and he nearly lost his shit with fear.

"Where the hell is Mary Beth?" he said, his voice echoing through the stairwell, collar loosened.

"She's safe with Woodrow," said LaBoeuf. "One riot, one ranger. They're getting off the boat as we speak."

"What's going on?" He was undoing his cufflinks, tossing them to the floor. "Did you see Pinkertons?"

"We did," said LaBoeuf, reloading his piece. "Though it's unclear who started the shoot-out in the ballroom. Either way, when them bullets started flying, Mary Beth would not leave you behind. A good woman, she is. In any case, we got to go, Mr. Morgan. There will be time for mystery-solving later. If you would be so kind as to stay behind me now. I am armed and ready to roll."

2.

Mary Beth felt her stomach dissolve into pieces as she followed Call over the rail on the far end of the deck where he and LaBoeuf had yoked their vessel in the dark water below. LaBoeuf had gone back for Arthur, had promised to do his finest to get him back safe. We will see you at the rendezvous point, he said. Keane's Saloon of Valentine, triangulated per their emergency protocol. As she and Call jumped ship now, some people called after them, wondering who they were. A man in a tall hat approached them aggressively. Call tossed him to his ass and threatened him with his pistol. After they were in that boat, he cut the rope with his knife and wasted no time. He proceeded to paddle, headed west.

Call’s efficiency as a Ranger was brute and akin to Arthur's. He spoke little as they went. He and Mary Beth were a ways off from St. Denis by now, tossing in the calm waters of the Flat Iron Lake. Call paddled them to their destination in about thirty minutes. The whole time he paddled in utter silence, Mary Beth perched with her back to him, glancing occasionally, but facing the river boat most of the time and watching it get smaller and smaller on the horizon. She kept waiting for it to explode, or for a meteor to come and drop them all from existence. Nothing happened like that, but she did take notice of how far that boat had got from the nearest shore. It must have been a couple miles. She didn’t think Arthur or anybody could swim that far, but she tried not to worry. She tried to remember what Arthur was, what he could do, all these qualities that once had enchanted her so, even just months before, when she seemed, in her own mind, to be younger and dumber to the dull edges of life. She prayed to god for his life.

They tied up the boat in a dusty little fishing complex south of Blackwater, called Quaker’s Cove. It was empty, though the jetty was stocked with barrels and nets and looked like it entertained serious fishermen on occasion. Up above the stars were obscured by a hazy overcast, and she imagined that soon it would give way to some light rain. As Call helped her to her feet on the pier, she looked around and wondered what was going to happen next.

“What do we do now?” said Mary Beth, realizing now how uncomfortable she was. Her dress was tight. She was tired and hungry and cold.

“We’ll wait out the night,” said Call. He lit a cigarette, smoked it, looking exhausted. He took off his hat, smoothed the thinning hair on his head, and then put his hat back on. “Get some sleep, maybe in one of these structures here. I’m sure we can make it work. Then first thing in the morning, we’ll paddle up to Blackwater, maybe get you some new clothes, something more comfortable.”

“Blackwater?”

“I am led to believe that you have no name for yourself there,” he said. “That it’s just Dutch and his lieutenants caught the ire of the law.”

“That’s true,” said Mary Beth, trying to smooth her hair in the back. “What are we gonna do tomorrow then?”

“We’ll then travel to the rendezvous point.”

“And how are we gonna get there?”

“We’ll take a train, Mrs. Morgan.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling stupid. “I suppose that’s sensible.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

Mary Beth sighed. She hiked up her skirt and looked around. There were some huts and things. It didn’t look in total disrepair. She then glanced to Call who seemed very stressed out all of a sudden. The bags under his eyes were so defined, they seemed carved from stone. She had not known him that long, but still, she could tell there was something going on. "Thank you," she said.

"For what, Mrs. Morgan."

"For listening to me on the boat. For LaBoeuf going back for Arthur. I know that wasn't the plan."

"Plans change. You were right."

“Are you worried?” she said, staring at him.

Call glanced at her curiously. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” she said, bracing herself. “I been living my whole life in uncertain circumstances, Mr. Call. Please. Don’t lie to me. I ain’t a child.”

He smoked his cigarette, looking at her with one hand on his pistol. “I am mighty worried, Mrs. Morgan. Yes.”    

“Why.”

“Because I do not like Pinkertons,” said Call, wiping his head with a handkerchief from his pocket. “I do not like Pinkertons, and I do not like bullets flying. Now I trust that LaBoeuf will be able to find your husband and that the two of them will bust out of there. They are specialists and experts in the art of escape, but I do not know where escaping will find them. If they are able to commandeer a boat somehow, that is the desired outcome, but we have to assume that will not happen. We are mighty close to Blackwater, and I know your husband’s situation here. If they swim, Mrs. Morgan, any guns they got will flood and break, and god forbid one of them get injured in an exchange on the river boat—this is a precarious situation. We accounted for the possibility of a fast escape, but we are further from the harbor of St. Denis than I thought we’d get, and there’s weather up there in the atmosphere, and we still have no idea why the hell there was gunfire on that goddam river boat in the first place. Could be it was Pinkertons. Could be it was something else. Now, you are safe, and that means my mission has been accomplished, but my partner is back there amidst all that crass uncertainty, and so is your husband, and you are with child, and that, Mrs. Morgan, is why I am worried. Mighty worried.” He finished his cigarette, taking one last determined drag, and then he tossed it to the weeds.

She just stared at him. She remembered briefly how Arthur had told her once of his nightmares about waking up real old and alone inside the hollowed out carcass of a polar bear. At the time it had sounded strange and kind of ridiculous. Of course she didn’t tell him that, but either way now, she understood. "I appreciate you not lying," she said.

“Let’s find somewhere to sleep, Mrs. Morgan,” said Call, looking around. “It’s a big morning in the morning.”

They found a couple cots for sleeping in one of the huts right on the water. Mary Beth stripped to her underclothes while Call lit a fire in the stove and then sat outside, keeping watch and smoking cigarettes and cleaning his volcanic. She had a view of the full moon from her window. She sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, listening for werewolves, staring up at the moon and how it glowed like a lazy lantern up there in the mist. Where were the werewolves? Were they coming? She did not have her books or her journal or anything to distract her. There was nothing to read in there but old cans of carrots and peas. She tried absorbing into her maladaptive daydreams. Knights in armor. But then she was just thinking about Arthur. The place reeked of freshwater fish and burlap. When she could no longer hold her head up she curled to a ball beneath the simple canvas covers and tried to sleep. Call still had not come inside. She understand why he didn’t come inside, but still, she wished he would.

All said and done, Arthur and LaBoeuf dragged to their salvation. They had jumped ship after escaping through the gunfire and swum east for a while till they hit a little island off the coast of Braithwaite Manor. There, they stumbled upon an abandoned paddle boat and got the rest of the way back to shore. Neither of them had any idea of what had gone down on that river boat. They didn't know who the shooters were. They knew there had been Pinkertons, but they didn't know when or how the fight had broke out, and there had been no time to talk about anything—the mayor, Bronte, it was just a blur.

Now, when they paddled up to the shore, they were wrecked, exhausted, soaked. It was the dead of night, and they lie on their backs, heaving. When LaBoeuf sat up and made a long, groaning sound, Arthur rolled over to see. LaBoeuf peeled his jacket off, and they both gazed then what had become of him—shot in the side. The wound was dark and must have happened all the way back on the river boat, and either he had just now noticed or he was just now saying something. He was clutching himself and breathing with his eyes closed, and he was whispering over and over again, Sweet Jesus. Sweet Jesus. Sweet Jesus.

“Shit,” said Arthur. “You’re bleeding, LaBoeuf.”

“I know.”

“Let me see.”

Arthur helped wrestle him out of his shirt so he could get a look at what was going on. It was just a graze on the flesh, but deep enough. The bullet had come and gone elsewhere.

“How bad is it,” said LaBoeuf.

“You’ll live,” said Arthur, assessing the damage, “but we need to close this up, lest it fester.”

“How shall we do that.”

“I got my methods, but you ain’t gonna like it.”

“I been in the field fifteen years, Mr. Morgan,” he said, breathing heavy. “I believe I can hack most anything.”

“I need matches and gunpowder. The gunpowder can be got from your volcanic there, but everything I’m packing is soaked through, matches included.”

“We ain’t far from Rhodes,” said LaBoeuf.

“That is true,” said Arthur. He got to his feet, looked around with his hands on his hips. “But they pretty much hate me in Rhodes. Plus, if I leave you here, you’re dead meat. There’s panthers in these parts.”

“What about the manor,” said LaBoeuf. “The Braithwaites—they’ll have matches.”

Arthur chuckled to himself. “They don’t much like me neither, Mr. LaBoeuf.”

“I thought you mentioned you had helped one of them once, not long back. When we was up in the Roanoke Ridge. A woman.”

Arthur thought on it. He had forgotten about Penelope. “Can you walk?”

“I reckon,” said LaBoeuf.

Arthur took his hand, hauled him up and dusted him off. LaBoeuf leaned on him heavily. The bleeding wasn’t life threatening, but LaBoeuf was beat up, and the wound needed help closing or he was gonna lose too much blood. Arthur removed his coat, used the knife he kept at his side to rip the seams, then he split the back panel in two and tied the pieces together to make a strip long enough to wrap around LaBoeuf’s ribs. The graze was just along the bottom two, on the left side. “This’ll stay the bleeding,” said Arthur. “You been shot before?”

“Only once, in the leg,” said LaBoeuf. “A long time back. Call’s old lady, she dug out the bullet for me, stitched me up good.”

"His old lady, huh,” said Arthur. “Would that be the one who died?”

“Yes, sir,” grunted LaBoeuf. “She had been a prostitute, but they was on track to get married. They had a baby out of wedlock, sixteen years ago.”

“I think I remember him mentioning that.”

Arthur took many deep breaths as they got to trudging. He had no idea where Mary Beth might be. He tried not to think of it. The night was pretty, not too cold, but the stars were covered like it might rain. The moon was muffled, too, and so the land was dark.

3.

Along the gleaming shoreline, Arthur and LaBoeuf soon began to close in on the Braithwaite property line.

“I should say,” said LaBoeuf as he limped along and looked up at the sky. “I would like to get married some day, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur found this amusing. “You got a woman?” he said, steadying LaBoeuf. “Anybody in mind? That would be a good start."

“No, sir,” he said. “Never thought much for it. Until now.”

Arthur smiled at this. “You scared of dying? You ain’t gonna die, LaBoeuf.”

“I know,” he said. “Or, I mean, I do hope so. And it ain’t so much I’m scared of dying, it’s just that now I think I’d prefer not to die alone.”

“Nobody has to die alone,” said Arthur. He wished badly for a cigarette, stopped to reach down and pluck a willow from the earth, which he proceeded to chew. “That is something I have learned very recently.”

“I get that,” said LaBoeuf. He was earnest. He moved slowly, but he was doing okay. “Mary Beth is—I’d be lucky to do half so good as that. She sure is something.”

"Yes, sir. She is,” said Arthur. His boots were wet. His feet were sloshing around inside them, and as they walked, their feet made squishing noises. He was not used to being the envy of men. He wasn't used to that at all. “Goddammit," he said.

“She’s okay,” said LaBoeuf, nodding. “I told you. They got off okay. This was her idea, and Call don’t make mistakes.”

“I know,” said Arthur, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. His head was pounding from all the gunfire. “I know.”

Some egrets took off up ahead of them then, which put Arthur on his guard. But it was only a stray coyote.

When they finally got to the back end of the Braithwaite property, Arthur stopped them both. He still had all his money, the winnings, half stuffed down the front of his pants, half in his right boot, since he had torn his coat to shreds. He was not letting this fucked up night go to waste, no sir.

“This is it,” said Arthur, sensing the gazebo up ahead. They took a knee. LaBoeuf was winded, and they were both dirty and covered in mud. He glanced back to the moon. It was almost eleven. Still too many hours to sunrise, considering. He wondered if it was too late. He wondered if maybe she was out there. “She likes to hang out in the gazebo,” he said, scrubbing at his chin, still chewing that willow.

“Who does?”

“Penelope Braithwaite,” said Arthur. "Otherwise known as our only hope."

“Oh, right. Penelope."

“She reads out here, all day sometimes she said once.”

“You think she’s out there now?”

“Maybe,” said Arthur. He took a deep breath. If she wasn’t there, he was not yet sure what he was going to do. Raid some of the fishing cottages down on the water. Kill one of the guards, or maybe just knock him out, but killing would be safer. “You stay here.” Arthur got on his tip-toes. He couldn’t see the inside of the gazebo from here. It had high walls. He’d have to get up close. “I’ll be back.”

"Sounds good."

Arthur nodded and made his move. He had to wade back into the water up to his waist, and once he got out again, he could see some of the Braithwaite guards idling in the distance with their lanterns, way back by the manor, which was half-burned to the ground. There were wagons of timber everywhere and it looked like work was already being done on restorations. He snuck up alongside the gazebo and went around and climbed up and entered over the side. When his feet dropped, he heard her gasp. She was there. He heard a man’s voice, too, and then he saw both of them, locked up in an embrace: Penelope and Beau, stealing time together. Arthur sighed with relief, shook out his hair and his shirt and was dripping wet. But they didn't recognize him at first. Beau was on his feet in an instant. He didn’t have a weapon or anything so he just sort of stood there in a funny kind of stance with his fists up, ready to fight.

"Stand back!" he said. It was almost comical.

Arthur eyeballed him and put his hands up to surrender. “You got me,” he said.

“Arthur?” said Penelope.

Beau looked at her, and then he looked back at Arthur. “Arthur?”

“Yes.”

“What the heck are you doing here?” Penelope seemed ecstatic. She was happily surprised. She got up from the bench and rushed him, but she paused when she saw how wet he was. “Good heavens,” she said. “Do you know how soaked you are?"

“Believe it or not, I do."

“What happened to you?” said Beau. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” said Arthur, clasping his hands in front of him. “I’m afraid it is not. I was on a river boat, playing cards, and it got raided by the law. My friend and I had to jump ship. We swam to shore, and he is shot in the side. Needless to say, I came here, looking for assistance.”

“Oh my god,” said Penelope. “That’s terrible. Where is your friend?”  

“He’s back on the shore,” said Arthur. “I might need some help getting him here. You got anywhere safe we could bunk up for the night?”

“Yes,” said Penelope. “Ever since you all burnt the place to the studs, everybody but the guards and the farmhands’ been staying in our second home in St. Denis.”

“Your second home?”

“It’s dreadful,” she said, dramatically. “I'll tell you where it is, maybe you can burn it down, too." She looked at Beau then and batted her eyelashes. “I sneak out every night to meet Beau. We are still so grateful for that time you helped us.”

"Well, you're welcome."

“The fishing cottages are all vacated," said Beau. "A little rundown, but you’ll be safe till morning.”

"That will do fine. Thank you.”

“How are you, Arthur,” said Penelope. She put her little bird hand on his arm. “Are you doing all right?”

Arthur smiled. “I’m real good, Miss Braithwaite. Current circumstances aside. Thank you for asking.”

She noticed then, the ring on his finger. “Mr. Morgan. Is that a wedding ring?”

“It is,” said Arthur. He kind of fit it to his finger, a reassuring touch. “And I will tell you the whole story, I promise, once we get my buddy to safety.”

“Oh, of course,” she said, like she had forgotten. “Beau, go with Arthur and help him bring up his friend. I’ll prepare the cottage—go to the red one, just over thataway. It’s by far the nicest. I used to play jacks out there with my cousin Lucinda. Before they shipped her up the river to Minnesota of course. For gallivanting with a woman.”

Arthur gave her a funny look. "Minnesota?”

“She preferred the company of girls.”

“No, I got that part. But why did they ship her to Minnesota?”

“Weren’t acceptable, I suppose," said Penelope, fluffing her dress and proceeding to lead Arthur down the stairs to the foggy lawn. "Of course we marry our cousins by the Braithwaite family way, but girls kissing other girls, that’s where the good lord draws the line.” She spoke angrily. But she dropped her anger as quickly as it had come and smoothed her smoky gray dress with her hands. “Oh well. You know my family, Arthur. Animals. Every last one of them. And hypocrites to boot.”

"I got no argument there," said Arthur, thinking back to Lemieux. "Now just lead the way, Miss Braithwaite."

"I owe you my life," she said. "I mean that. Anything you need, you just ask. You're a good man, Mr. Morgan."

He looked away. "I try."

That night in the fishing cottage on the Flat Iron Lake, Arthur fixed up LaBoeuf, not dissimilar from how he had fixed up himself while incarcerated by Colm O’Driscoll. The pain was bad, but it was over fast, and LaBoeuf was stoic. Plus, there was an abundance of moonshine out here. Beau had brought them some dry clothes stolen from the guard barracks, and he and Penelope hung out for a little while, catching up, until the hour got too late. Once they were alone, and cleaned up and dry, LaBoeuf had drunk himself to a right stupor, leaning against a table leg by the fire and slurring his words poetically by the orange light of the flames.

“We gonna get you back to Mary Beth real soon, Mr. Morgan,” he said, his head lulling, his body bandaged and his eyelids heavy like lead. He was swigging off the moonshine from a glass flask, sounding heroic and Arthur was thankful for him and for all he had done and sacrificed that night. “Miss Mary Beth, and your unborn baby. The two of you will be…will be just fine. Where you gonna get to, by the way? When this is all over? By the—by the way.” He smiled, real lazy like. "Where you gonna get to?"

Arthur smiled. He was poking the fire on the stove, loosening the embers. The little red cottage made him think of Deer Cottage. “Wisconsin,” he said. “That’s where we’re aiming.”

“Wisconsin?” said LaBoeuf.

“Yes, sir. You ever been?”

LaBoeuf did not clearly answer. He did not seem to know. He just continued to smile and sway. He said, “Mighty pretty country up there, Mr. Morgan.” He was dropping into sleep as he said it, the flask tipping from his hand. "Mighty pretty."

"Thank you," said Arthur. He meant for everything. He did not know what else to say or to do, but without LaBoeuf, he would probably be dead now. In any case, LaBoeuf was sleeping. He had not heard. Arthur could not sleep. He stayed awake, too keyed up and hardened to his resolve, tossing things in the fire, smoking cigarettes gifted to him from Penelope.

***

Side note:

My take on Mayor Lemieux is based on his real-life historical influences. Quoted from the fandom wiki:

Henri Lemieux likely takes inspiration from the real-life mayor of New Orleans at the time of the game’s events (1899), Walter C. Flower. Flower himself had been a member of the 1891 lynch mob that executed eleven Italian-Americans accused of killing the city's police chief (an event alluded to in the Saint Denis Times), whose murder was long-rumored but never proven to be a Mafia-directed assassination.

Though it's not overtly addressed in-game, Bronte is clearly meant to communicate as a high-ranking member of the Sicilian Mafia, which, along with Lemieux's period-typical anti-Italian sentiment and king pin levels of diabolical corruption, is something I wanted to explore. Personally, I always believed that Bronte was harmless at best, a red herring, and Lemieux was behind it all.

Thanks for reading ^_^

-gala

[vanimeldes]

can you elaborate a bit what made you divorce from asoiaf/got as you say?

Ooof, so, after the G0T finale, I think my reasons should be obvious, but you also mentioned the books and yes, I lost my interest in books too and I will try to not make this answer too long, but in the same time, to convey all my thoughts on this matter.

*Putting it below cut because.... when I`ll explain the problem of Martin`s fans later, you`ll understand why*

It`s amazing that just a year ago, AS0IAF was my second favourite franchise ever, second only to Tolkien legendarium, but even then, I didn`t love it for the fantasy elements in it, but rather for its characters and some twists and how Martin does forshadowing and writes the dualistic nature of the human being, but...as I read other fantasy series that do these four things AND have fantasy elements, I paused a bit and thought that these series would be just as popular, if they had popular adaptations such as G0T. But I got that AS0IAF was the first that had the opportunity to be adapted and I accepted that. Yet the show highlighted (and in some cases, amplified) some of the very big issues of these books and yes, D&D have many things to be blamed of, but it`s not as if they didn`t have a basis for their fuckery in the books. Martin is just as guilty. So here we go.

1. I am not sure if Martin has ever seen a 13 year old girl, but he writes grown-ass men having fixations and being sexually attracted by Daenerys and Sansa, two prepubescent girl. Martin would call it the gritty realism of the medieval times, but last time I checked, he was writing fantasy, not historical fiction. Fantasy means you can do what you want in your world, so even if you are inspired by the medieval times, it`s still YOUR fictional world and no one will question your research or accuracy if you want to have a female character married when she is at least, say, 18, not FUCKING 13. Not to mention that even in our real world, child brides existed but, guess what, in most the cases, both spouses waited until the wife reached a certain age (16 or older) to consummate their marriage. @eyes-painted-with-kohl explained in the notes of one of my posts and even gave an example or two. I can think of Isabella of France and Edward II. They were married when she was 13 (according to some historical evidence)/16 (according to others). Yes, I know he was homosexual, but he still needed heirs, so they still had children...4 years later, when she was 17/20.  

2. In this same vein, the treatment of his female characters (with the exception of Arya and, maybe Catelyn) is egregious. Daenerys and Sansa are sexualized by the male characters (don`t get me started of the bullshit that is S/ansan, because The Hound is still a murderous man who is aroused by a 12 year-old girl, who invaded her personal space and even pointed a knife to her; do not get me started on book!Jorah, who is a creep). Cersei is paraded naked on the streets and needless to say that during the walk of atonement for an adulterous woman in medieval times, she was never stripped naked; she only had her hair shaved and walked BAREFOOT. That`s it. What Martin did to Cersei is just disgusting. We are shown how Arianne uses sex to have Ser Arys help with her plans and it is implied that Margaery uses sex also. I get that sex is Cersei`s mechanism, but you have two more feminine (this is important) women in power and both of them explicitly use, or are implied to use sex as a mean to gain that power. I get Brienne`s point, her treatment bothers me the least, but it`s annoying from time to time how most of the other characters see only her ”ugliness” and nothing else. Of course, this is the result of the heavy patriarchy in Westeros world that I will discuss in the next paragraph.

3. The heavy patriarchy in Westeros world is nowhere similar to the patriarchy in the medieval times, and that was Martin`s choice and his only. A clear example is what was dubbed the Dead Ladies Club, namely a group of dead female characters whose only purpose was to serve as object of desire for one or more men, to give birth AND to die (gruesomely in some cases). Joanna Lannister is meant only to further fuel the enmity between Tywin and Aerys and Tywin`s hatred towards Tyrion. Elia exists solely to die gruesomely and motivate Doran`s desire for vengeance. Lyanna (the most explored dead lady still exists mainly to give birth to Jon and to be one of the reasons behind a war started by men. Rhaella exists solely to be raped by Aerys and give birth and die. Ashara Dayne exists solely to commit suicide. Ned, a POV character, spends chapters thinking about his father and siblings and never to his mother. Martin had the audacity to say that Tolkien himself didn`t left notes about Aragorn`s mother, but Tolkien had an entire story when Aragorn`s mother and her impact of his life is explored (more than his father, for that matter). The heavy patriarchy serves as reason for the utterly disgusting right of the first night (read Fire & Blood for more). I am not so versed into history as @mydaylightruyi who discussed this, but I too know that in our real world, this practice was a MYTH. But GRRM made it very present in his world because of reasons I guess. 

4. The racism is just rampant and disgusting and even I didn`t notice all the racism until I read @polysorscha `s insights. There`s a to be discussed here, mainly about the portrayal of the Dothraki and how they are reduced to barbaric rapists - interestingly, they are supposedly inspired by Huns, but guess what: the Huns formed a very permisive society, where any religion and culture had its places, where women were very respected and, while cruel  in the European people`s POV, were never....like THIS. 

5. The rape cultures. The Ironborn. Similarly to the Dothraki, their culture is reduced to pillaging and rape. That scene when Euron conquers that castle in the Reach ( I forgot its name) and how he had the daughters of that lord stripped naked and serve his men the meal, and how his men started raping them was....honestly, I wish I could have skipped this chapter. I still read fantasy books written by men more than I read fantasy books written by women, but never in my life did it occur to me to read something like this in a novel that is so hailed for fantasy (?) and realism (???????). I`m not saying that things like that didn`t happen in our cruel history but, again, Martin writes a fictional story. He could choose not to include the rampant violence against women, cultures whose practices are reduced to this utterly gross things, racist and orientalist elements, but he chooses not to. Why? I don`t know. I am not sure I want to know. And Victarion`s POV...oh boy. Or Theon, in ACOK, when he literally rapes that Kyra girl after takes Winterfell. Not only that it`s very disturbing, especially coming from a character that is supposed to be redeemed in some way (yes, I know how he`s been through in ADWD and I also know this is meant to be his redemption arc, but I personally still can`t get over this). And in the same time, while we`re still at the redemption discussion, Theon will surely undergo a redemption of some sorts, Cersei (a female character) will most likely be killed by her lover/brother, who will strangle her to death, most likely while he will embrace her, without a second chance of a droplet of redemption. 

6. I love Tyrion and I love Tywin but in the same time, I acknowledge their misogyny, but Martin chose to write them as misogynists, but in the same time, writing them in such ways that they are inherently labelled as „badass”. He also says that Tyrion is his favourite, but his POV is utterly misogynistic. The reason he kills Shae is because she dared to sleep with his father, but let`s unpack the things a bit: she was a former sex worker with no power, who was forced by the most powerful man in Westeros. She had no choice. She couldn`t refuse him. Yet, for Tyrion, she is ”the lying whore” and that`s it. We are given no chance to try to see the things from her POV (I am not implying that she should have been a POV character, but Martin should have written Tyrion considering for a moment what other choices Shae had). 

7. I discovered that Martin straightly ripped-off many plot points and themes from another series who isn`t half as popular, sadly. 

8. Last, but not the least, the snake pit that is THE FANDOM. You know, as much as I tried to stay away from its toxicity because „it`s just an internet thing, it can`t affect me”, it did affect my online experience in ways that I hadn`t imagined. To sum up, if you don`t like a character or hate another, you are  a pariah. You are dumb because you don`t understand that character or you are a misogynist (because, sadly, this discourse is mostly about the female characters). If you dare to voice up your thoughts about a certain event and/or a certain character and tag your post as #asoiaf or #asoiaf meta (you know, because this is it to me: a meta; plus, I want to have an ordering system in my blog so that whenever I want to look for a certain post in a certain topic or fandom, I would only look into the tag) or #my meta (highlighted „MY” because this is also important, as in it`s MY OWN PERSONAL OPINION), and those thoughts happen to not fit into the general consensus of the „great AS0IAF bloggers” (namely those meta writers with many followers who sound like they already read TWOW and ADOS), you are trashed and called an idiot. Granted, I met enough great people, meta writers included, in this fandom, and it was a real pleasure to chat with them, but I also had bad experiences with others and idk, I thought we were all mature people, but the way they reacted can hardly be described as mature. And in the same point, it`s just funny to see the hardcore Martin stans reacting in front of the clear evidence that Martin isn`t half as original as they thought (see 7) and acting like they are personally attacked.

Ok, it took me an hour. There is a lot more to discussed, but I got bored and I honestly want to shut the door to this fandom forever. To answer another question, yes, I will be reading the last two books  if when they will come out. I invested many months in this series not to finish it. I`ll probably block all the ASOIAF-related tags to avoid any interaction with its fandom during those times.

[x5red]

Sixty fun & fascinating facts about the classic Supergirl (1 / 4)

Great guns! How time flies!

May 2019 will mark sixty years since the pages of Action Comics #252 carried its landmark tale: a crashed rocket ship in a Midvale field, and emerging from within, an enthusiastic young teenager who was destined to become one of Earth’s fiercest champions. That teenager was, of course, Kara Zor-El -- otherwise known as Supergirl..!

To celebrate the classic Kara Zor-El’s sixtieth anniversary, compiled below is part one of a series outlining sixty surprising or unusual facts about the original intrepid Argo City teen who leapt from that crumpled Midvale rocket ship. Covering her original Silver and Bronze Age incarnation, in comics and on screen, each factoid is calculated to intrigue and delight -- hopefully even seasoned Kara fans will find a few morsels of trivia that had previously escaped their attention.

Enjoy...

1. She wasn’t originally known as Kara Zor-El when she debuted in comics.

What’s in a name? Well not a lot, it seems, if you happen to be Kryptionian..!

Although everyone knows Supergirl’s real name is Kara Zor-El, the Maid of Might herself didn’t deem it worthy of a mention until Action Comics #288 (May 1962), three years after her introduction, when she innocently referenced her full moniker during a dream sequence. After that readers would need to wait another fifteen years(!) before she’d mention it again in Superman Family #177 (June 1976). Outside of these rare instances Kara was usually known as Kara of Argo City, or in very early comics simply just as Kara, her birthplace itself not having acquired a name until Action Comics #280 (Sep 1961).

2. 1984′s Supergirl wasn’t actually the first movie headlined by a superhero female.

Many movie buffs will list 1984′s Supergirl as the breakthrough release that finally saw women headline a movie in the superhero genre, but this is far from the truth.

Supergirl’s record is true, but only in the English-speaking world: there had already been numerous superhero movies in non-English markets centred around super-powered female crime fighters, most notably in the Philippines. The most popular Filipino superheroine, Darna, had already racked up no less than eleven movies by 1980, plus one guest appearance in another hero’s movie.

3. She once fell madly in love with a woman.

As incredible as it seems today, the straight-laced DC Comics of the 1960s once okayed a story in which the Maid of Might fell head-over-heels in love with a woman. It happened in Adventure Comics #384 (Sept 1969), and, as you might expect, the story had a few twists and turns before the true nature of Kara’s romance was revealed.

The short version is this: Kara uses computer dating to select a match suitable for a superwoman. The computer picks Volar, a male superhero from the deeply misogynistic planet of Torma (second planet of Star-Sun 447B, in case you want to pay a visit.) Kara travels to Torma and is smitten by Volar, but he seems reluctant to reciprocate her affections. Eventually the plot reveals its twist: due to Torma’s notorious chauvinism, Volar is actually a superheroine forced to masquerade as a superhero. ”I’m heading back to Earth – where I belong!”, exclaims a disappointed Girl of Steel, “I found out Volar was no hit – but a real miss!” (Ho ho!)

4. She’s a self-professed fan of Jazz.

Growing up in both Argo City and Midvale, Kara was probably exposed to a wide range of different musical styles -- but at the end of a long day saving the world, what kind of sounds did she like to relax to? The pages of Daring New Adventures of Supergirl #7 (May 1983) dropped readers a hint when Kara expressed a strong affinity towards Jazz music. Indeed in a later issue of that same series, it is while attending a free Jazz concert with friends in Chicago’s Grant Park that Kara first tangled with the super-villain Reactron (making his comicbook debut.)

5. She once packed in her superhero career to become a socialite and style-icon in Paris.

The mid-60s was an interesting time for DC Comics; a tipping point between the juvenile gimmick-driven hangover of the Golden Age, and the more mature storytelling style of the upcoming Bronze Age, as one generation of artists and writers slowly gave way to the next. Brave and the Bold #63 (Dec 1965) fell squarely into the former category with its outlandish story, Revolt of the Super-Chicks.

The tale begins with a restless Kara feeling unappreciated: the public see her as just a hero in a gaudy costume, ignoring the sophisticated woman inside. Much to the chagrin of Kal-El, Kara abandons her superhero-ing career and heads to the bright lights of Paris to live it up. Kal sends Wonder Woman to Paris to talk some sense into Kara (the first time the pair had shared an adventure, by the way), but Diana is likewise wooed by the socialite lifestyle and joins Kara in her nocturnal revelry. If it hadn’t been for the intervention of the villain Multi-Face, the pair might have still been in Paris now.

6. Producer Ilya Salkind regretted Helen Slater’s casting as Supergirl.

When Ilya Salkind took on the task of co-producing Superman-related movies in the mid 1970s, he’d argued against the wishes of both Warner Bros. and his producer father, Alexander, by suggesting that the title role not go to a Hollywood A-lister. Ilya followed exactly the same logic when it came time to cast 1984′s Supergirl, championing an unknown actor called Helen Slater over more bankable names such as Brooke Shields (favoured by his father.)

In an interview in 2000, however, Ilya seemed to have some regrets, telling Scott Michael Bosco on behalf of Digital Cinema, “[...] frankly, with hindsight I regret it. Brooke Shields would have – not made it a better movie, but perhaps a more commercial one. This I’m convinced. I think there would have been more men seeing the movie.” Commenting on how Slater’s screen presence was more Katherine Hepburn than Sophia Loren, Salkind noted, “What happened, I think, is that we lost a lot of the audience, the male audience. I think it was also because the girl was a little unattainable.”

7. One of her most iconic costumes was originally designed by a fan.

Supergirl has had a number of crime-fighting outfits over the decades, but two particularly stand out as being iconic: Helen Slater’s 1984 movie costume (plus its imitators, such as the post-Crisis Matrix costume and Melissa Benoist’s tv costume), and the 1970s hotpants outfit.

The Girl of Steel’s hotpants attire was a racy number that screamed 70s sexploitation at a volume only Kryptonian lungs could achieve: short shorts, a plunging V neckline, billowing sleeves, and a neck choker, all in the customary red, sky blue, and yellow. The design wasn’t something dreamt up by one of DC’s staff of artists, however. but taken from a sketch submitted by reader John Sposato of Edison, New Jersey. DC had used several fan submitted costume ideas during the early 1970s -- each outfit typically receiving one or two story outings -- but John’s submission was obviously so liked by DC artists that it eventually became her permanent costume for most of the 1970s.

8. She turned Streaky into a Super Cat by accident.

DC in the Silver Age prided itself on being a family-friendly brand, free from the squalor and depravity that had once graced the pages of some of its competitors, causing moral crusaders (armed with books written by Dr. Fredric Wertham) to brand the medium as a threat to the youth of America. Without the use of excessive violence to bring thrills and drama to its superhero comics, DC relied on gimmicks such as Kryptonite. Consequently, by the Silver Age, the stuff was everywhere(!)

With her keen practical mind, Kara decided (much to the condescending amusement of her cousin) to develop an alchemy that would neutralise the harmful effects of this ever burgeoning supply of Kryptonite (Action Comics #261, Feb 1960.) She failed, naturally, but the discarded end-product, labelled X-Kryptonite, ended up accidentally giving a local stray alley-cat super powers. And so Streaky the Super Cat was born -- entirely by accident..!

9. Lena Luthor wasn’t the only female Luthor family member giving her trouble.

The Luthor family has a long history of causing trouble for the Girl of Steel. Not only did Supergirl struggle to keep her secret identity from the telepathic Lena (Thorul) Luthor -- Lex’s little sister -- but Adventure Comics #397 (Sept 1970) saw the introduction of Lex’s scheming niece, Nasthalthia. Nasty, as she was known, joined Stanhope College with a determination to help Uncle Lex flush out which of Stanhope’s students was secretly Supergirl. Suspecting Linda Danvers from the start, Nasty even followed Linda when she graduated and moved to San Francisco to become a TV camerawoman. The pair would play a dangerous cat-and-mouse game throughout many early 1970s Supergirl tales, but Nasty never quite got the proof she needed to unmask the Maid of Might.

10. She was married when she died in Crisis on Infinite Earths.

A story published in Superman Vol. 1 #415 (Jan 1986) saw the Fortress of Solitude infiltrated by a mysterious visitor from a distant planet. Intent on stealing a memento of the recently deceased Kara, the handsome green-skinned thief named Salkor is quickly apprehended by Superman.

Salkor explains how he had found Supergirl drifting unconscious in space some two years previous. He had cured her of Kryptonite sickness, but she had been left with severe amnesia. In the days that followed Salkor and Kara drew close and entered into a quickie marriage, but not long after the marriage he awoke to find Kara missing -- her memory had presumably returned. Over the next two years Salkor slowly traced his bride back to Earth, but tragically he arrived just as news of her death was broadcast around the world.

11. Her creation was part of a strategy to boost DC’s flagging superhero comic sales.

Supergirl wasn’t created on a mere creative whim; the impetus behind her introduction was likely a long-term sales strategy DC Comics had been following since the mid-1950s. According to Gerard Jones in his book Men of Tomorrow, DC knew that the demographics for the Superman radio and television shows revealed a sizeable share of young girl audience members, and that market research showed that girls read their brother’s Superman and Batman comics (second hand!) DC therefore set out to entice young girls into buying their own superhero comics by introducing titles like Superman’s Girlfriend, Lois Lane, and characters like Batwoman and Supergirl. Although some superheroines have been accused of being nothing more than eye-candy for the young male audience, Supergirl was introduced squarely to inspire young girls.

12. She could read your mind.

In Adventure Comics #397 (Sept 1970) Supergirl investigates a mystery girl found in a coma on the Stanhope College campus. As the anonymous patient lies motionless in a hospital bed, the Girl of Steel conveniently remembers that she has the ability to perform Vulcan mind-melds: ”I'll try to delve into her subconscious -- maybe I can learn something”. The trick reveals that the mystery girl was the victim of a black magic cult, causing Supergirl to infiltrate the group undercover (literally!) Strangely, although the Girl of Steel can read other people’s minds, she seemed very poor at reading her own, as she promptly forgets all about her mind-reading abilities after that single issue.

13. She always knew how to be popular.

When Kara from Argo City first landed on Earth, she took it upon herself to pick her own secret identity name. “While you were gone”, she tells her cousin, “I used my super-hearing and heard many Earth girls’ names! I thought of a good one for myself.” The name she chose, of course, was Linda.

It isn’t perhaps a surprise that her super-hearing fixated on that particular name, given that according to names registered with US Social Security, Linda was one of the most popular girls’ names in the 1950s, beginning the decade in the top slot, but dropping two places to third by the time Kara arrived on Earth in 1959. (Kara, by the way, was 935th on the girls list at the time that Ms. Zor-El crashed her rocket ship in Midvale.)

14. Her first appearance on television was in a 1962 comedy sketch, played by Carol Burnett.

In 1962 the Garry Moore Show featured a seven minute sketch lampooning the popular George Reeves Superman TV show -- the comedy gimmick being that instead of the Man of Steel, the sketch’s evildoers were pitted against the Maid of Might, played by comedian Carol Burnett. (A similar spoof by Lucille Ball a few years earlier doesn’t count, btw, as Lucy was playing Superman, not Supergirl.)

The madcap plot sees Carol dashing to and fro, frantically switching back and forth between her everyday clothes and her hero costume, while performing an array of ridiculous feats of strength. It is debatable whether this truly qualifies as a genuine Supergirl appearance, given the obvious Reeves inspiration, but Burnett’s 1962 version does use the Supergirl name and a reasonable facsimile of her 60s costume.

15. Her first proper appearance on television was in an advert, selling underwear!

Even if the 1962 Carol Burnett sketch is ruled out as not being canonical Kara, Supergirl’s late-70s underwear commercial qualifies without a shadow of a doubt. The short advert, for the kids brand Underroos, sees Supergirl, Spider-Woman, Wonder Woman, and even Batgirl, all extolling the virtues of wearing superheroine themed undergarments. Dating from sometime around 1978, the ad seems to be the first authorised on-screen appearance of Supergirl, meaning that the ad’s opening line, “Now Supergirl is on Underoos”, is the first spoken line uttered by any actress playing the Girl of Steel. (It is unknown who the lucky voice artist was.)

That’s all for part one -- hope you enjoyed it..! Check out part two (soon) for another fifteen fascinating factoids.

[c-bani-mation]

Necklaces and Butterflies

Rating: Mature(M)

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Relationships: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Alya Cesaire/Nino Lahiffe, Tom Dupain/ Sabine Cheng, Gabriel Agreste/Emilie Agreste, Tikki/Plagg

Language: English

Summary: The aftermath of Adrien and Chloe's get together. We meet a certain red magical sweetheart. Mari develops unwanted emotions that she should just deny to save herself from the heartbreak and torment, but as the saying goes, the heart wants what it wants, but hey what does the heart know anyway? Using your head is much better(we all know how that ends up Mari), or is it?

***WARNING THERE WILL BE VIOLENCE IN LATER CHAPTERS(But I’ll make sure to label the chapters that contain that, it won’t be for a while down the road)***

                                        Chapter 2

                                                         Mari’s POV

Chasing Chloe and the prince was not how Mari was planning to spend her day. Of course she shouldn’t be complaining about this turn of events, her afternoons were usually much worse. Prince Adrien had a pretty good gain on Chloe, but she started picking up speed as he started to tire out. Luckily, for the prince, Mari knew a scenic route that would bring her just ahead of Prince him, so she could come to his rescue..

Just as he passed her, Mari reached her arm out and grabbed his wrist pulling him into the woods with her, as well as making him crash into her and them both ending up on the ground. To silence him, Mari had put her hand over the prince’s mouth.

“ADRIKINS! Where did you go?” The watched Chloe’s feet as she ran by them on the main street. Mari kept her hand over the prince’s mouth until she was sure that Chloe was out of sight. The prince blinked up at her and suddenly she realized she had not yet released him, letting go as if his touch burned her skin, the prince stood up and offered her a hand.

“M-My sincerest apologies, y-your highness. That was very improper of me, I’m very sorry.” She bowed and screwed her eyes shut waiting for him to yell at her for the act of a peasant putting her hand on a noble, the prince no less.

“Sorry? Why on earth are you sorry? You saved me from Miss Bourgeois. I can’t thank you enough, Miss Dupain.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips.

“Oh! Well, it was no trouble at all, I know how Chloe, I MEAN Miss Bourgeois can get, but at least she didn’t call her ‘Daddy’.” Adrien gave a little snort.

“I don’t think her father could have done anything about it. Anyway, I must bid you farewell, Princess.” He gave her a cheshire cat grin that made Mari’s whole face turn bright red.

“I know now why you are called Chat Noir, it’s not for your so called bad luck, I bet you are very catlike.”

“Oh really, now?” She laughed.

“Really. Also, I’d think I’d know if I were a princess.” He smiled and took her hand.

“But you are a princess in my eyes.” Mari’s face was officially on fire now. “Goodbye, Mlle. Dupain.” He let go of her hand.

“Goodbye, your majesty.” She curtsied and he bowed back. He smiled at her and then walked away. Once he was out of sight, Mari had a panic attack.

“Why is my heart racing?! No! no! no, I cannot fall in love with the prince, no way. He’s betrothed and I’m only a servant, not to mention he’s a noble. Come on, Mari! You’re supposed to hate nobles! What’s wrong with me?! UGH! I need to talk to Tikki, she’ll know how I can forget about him.” Mari turned and went to walk to her friend Tikki’s house. Tikki had taken care of her up to the age of five and then she was handed over to Monsieur Bourgeois, she didn’t blame Tikki, she wasn’t her kid and she was a single female living on her own, how was she supposed to support a child? Mari would always visit Tikki when she felt sad or just wanted to say hello. Tikki worked at the town pub along with Mari’s friend Alya.

After a short walk, Mari finally arrived at Tikki’s little house. She knocked gently on the door three times and then waited. After a few seconds Tikki opened the door and smiled.

“Oh Mari! I wondered if you were going to drop by this week.” Mari sighed as Tikki stepped to the side and made a motion with her hand, inviting her inside. Mari walked in and dramatically plopped face down on the couch.

“Tikki, I need your help! Something terrible has happened!” Concern grew in Tikki’s eyes.

“What do you mean by terrible, Mari? Are you hurt? Are sick? What happened?” Tikki started to rub Mari’s back in soothing circles. Mari groaned and dry sobbed.

“I think I like Prince Adrien!” She blurted out really fast. Tikki raised her eyebrow.

“And why is that horrible? The prince is a very kind young man.” Mari scoffed.

“Tikki I mean ‘like’ as in almost love! That’s the problem!” Tikki sighed.

“Mari, even that isn’t that bad.”

“He’s betrothed!” Tikki looked like she’d wanted to say something, but she bit her lip and kept quiet. “Besides, I’m supposed to despise nobels.” That made Tikki scowl.

“Listen here Mari. Adrien didn’t ask for his title anymore then you asked to be a servant. Stop stereotyping the upper class before you get to know them, true most are snobby, but don’t act as if they’re all Chloe. Chloe and her father are the worst case scenarios and I am very sorry that I put you with them, but it was the only way to pay your parents’ debt. Also how long have you known him? How do you know it’s love?” Mari blushed.

“Well, today was the first day that I’ve actually spoken to him, before I wasn’t allowed to be around when he came over. We talked a few times and he’s actually really charming.” She’d started to play with a stray piece of her hair. Tikki crossed her arms over her chest, her long red hair was pulled up into a tight bun with a few stray pieces falling out of it. She was wearing a simple red skirt with a black top piece with off the shoulder flowing red sleeves. Her big blue eyes were staring skeptically at Mari, though she was intimidating she was no taller than Mari herself.

“Mari. That is not enough time to say you truly care for him, sure he might be suave and charming, but there is more to him that meets the eye. So before you go off and put him on a godly pedestal, think, do you really know him?” Mari looked at the ground and thought about those words.

“I suppose you are right.” Tikki smiles and lifts her chin.

“What I think you’re feeling is respect and overall admiration for him being kind to you. These feeling can often be confused with love, especially to a person who has never been in love.” Mari pouted.

“How do you know I’ve never been in love?” Tikki gave her a devilish smirk.

“Because you would have told me already. Tell me, do you feel the desire to marry him, bare his children, or even the mere thought of him makes you giddy?” Mari thought for a moment, but ultimately shook her head. Tikki gave her a small smile.

“Then, I’m afraid you are not in love. But, that doesn’t mean that you couldn’t grow to love him, once you get to know him.” Mari looked at her with a confused look.

“Are you trying to make me fall in love with a betrothed man?” Tikki laughed.

“I guess that’s not the brightest idea, is it? Oh well, now you’d best be going to see Alya, she was starting to get annoyed that you’d hadn’t visited her in a while.”

“I know, it’s just that I prefer to visit her at work, I don’t like disrupting her and Nino’s time at home.” Tikki giggled.

“You do realize that just because she’s married, doesn’t mean that she doesn’t want you to come over her house, right?” Mari frowned.

“No, that’s not it, I just don’t want to come off as too… clingy.” Tikki nudged her with her arm with her elbow.

“Sweetie, there is no way Alya would think of you as clingy, if anything she’s the clingy one. Go on, spend time with your friend.” Mari sighed and stood.

“I think I’ll do it tomorrow. I have to get back before Chloe or Andre notices I’m gone.” Tikki grabbed her arm to stop her.

“No! I’m taking you out tomorrow, you’d better see her today.” Mari furrowed her brows.

“Really? Why?”

“It’s a surprise that I’m not about to spoil. You’ll just have to wait and see.” Mari chewed on her soft, rose colored bottom lip as she looked dejectedly to the near spotless floor below her.

“As truly wonderful as a day away from everything sounds, Tikki, I honestly don’t think the warden and his little princess are going to allow my absence, even for a day.” Tikki crossed her arms and cocked her hip, her white apron, covered with the remnants of off-white flour.

“I’ve already handled Andre, so don’t you worry about that, just meet me in the grove at seven o’clock sharp tomorrow morning.” Mari eyed Tikki wearily, doubt and fear hidden behind her bluebell eyes. Tikki let out a frustrated huff. “Just trust me and see her today, okay?” Mari slowly smiled and nodded. Tikki’s eyes brightened just before she released the younger one’s arm.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. Have a good evening, Tikki.” She bowed her head as she went for the handle of the slightly rusted door.

“Of course, dear. Oh and do take a cookie or two on your way out, they’re fresh out of the oven and you are far too thin.” They both laughed as Mari complied with the woman’s request and headed on her way.

                                                     Adrien’s POV

     Adrien quick walked back to the palace with sweat creeping slowly down his neck and it wasn’t until he was safely past the gates that he let out a breath of relief. He hadn’t expected that his and Chloe’s get together would’ve ended that way, if he’d known it was, he would’ve just just stayed and practiced the piano. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate or enjoy Chloe’s company, they’d been so close when they were younger after all, but it wasn’t the same after all these years. As they grew, the more clingy and touchy she’d become, not that it really mattered to Adrien that much. What really bothered him, was how much his title mattered to her. As kids they never cared about the position of the other, they were in their own world, but now that they’re basically adults, her only concern is that of climbing the social ladder that she was already very high on. To be honest, he didn’t really blame her, most women felt that marrying a wealthy, nobleman was their only way to a successful life, even though the kingdom allowed women to work and own businesses, it was still very hard to build up one’s statis. If Chloe was the usual woman, he would’ve understood more, but with her already being a wealthy aristocrat, he found it especially confusing as to why she thought she still had to marry for statis. Shouldn’t she feel lucky, perhaps even grateful, that she doesn’t have to do that?

Adrien’s mind continued to swirl with these questions as he made his way to his chamber, not paying any mind to where he was going, eventually colliding with a firm, warm object that,inevitably, was a person for the third time that day.

“I am so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me toda- Nino?” While scrambling to help the person he rammed face first into, he failed to notice, until after a few seconds after he was being given the most unamused look that anyone(except maybe his father) has ever given him, that it was in fact his best friend and palace musician, Nino Lahiffe.

“Oh no, please do finish your apology, or is being your friend not worthy of that? Or perhaps I’m the wrong sex to warrant such attention, from his highness?” Nino’s chocolaty brown eyes sparkled with amusement and mischief, unlike Adrien’s steely green glare.

“I’m so very sorry, sir, how dare I wrinkle you’re burnt mustard, colored suit and is your navy feather crooked?! Oh the nerve of I! I shall lock myself away for such injustice!” Nino haughtily crossed his arms and played along.

“I would expect no less of a punishment for such rudeness to someone of my stature. I shall tell the fair Marinette that she’s to marry another for our, dear prince has committed such a crime, such ASSAULT, I am honestly so disgusted.” Adrien sat there on the floor with the back of his hand rested, dramatically against his forehead. They stayed in their respective positions for only a mere fifteen seconds before Nino snickered, which caused Adrien to break his composure as well, the end result was that of both men on the floor, laughing so hard that tears had appeared at the corner of their eyes.

“But seriously Nino,” Adrien choked out through his laughter. “Who is to blame for that hideous outfit?” Nino tapped a finger on his chin.

“Oh I do believe this was your doing, if I remember correctly.” Adrien raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Was it?” He feigned innocence.

“Ah, yes indeed it was. One of your worst tricks to date, but alas the great Chat Noir strikes again.” By this time, Adrien was back on his feet and walking in the direction that Nino was headed.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His cheshire grin was blinding, the pure joy of just joking around with his friend was evident, but sadly all happy moments must come to an end.

“Of course you don’t.” Nino shook his head. “While I have you here, your father told me to tell you that he wants to see you by the end of the day.” Adrien’s smile dropped and he rubbed his hand against his cheek.

“You don’t think he has any news about her, do you?” Adrien looked to his friend with large hopeful green eyes. In Adrien’s disheveled blue vest a top his wrinkled, white button up that was partly tucked into his black slacks, whose cuffs were also partly tucked into his velvety brown boots, he looked almost fragile, like a small kitten left out in the rain and denied shelter.

“I honestly have no clue, except he sounded more cold than usual. I’m sorry.” Adrien sighed.

“This is not what I needed after a day like today.” Nino looked at Adrien, puzzled.

“Was it seriously that bad?” Adrien slowly nodded.

“It’s been getting worse the more we age, ever since her mother died…” Adrien’s voice trailed off. He knew what it was like to lose a mother, his had died when he was ten years old and there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t miss her, most of her portraits were taken down from the walls, but some remained, like a ghostly shadow throughout the main hallways. With his mother’s death, his father became a mere shell of his former self and became an overall cold and unsettling person. Though things in his life changed for the worse, he still tried to remain positive and happy, after all he wouldn’t be in this position forever, soon he would find the contentedness he’d been longing for.

Chloe was the opposite though. She became bitter and shallow with her mother’s passing, denying the effect it had on her mental health. Slowly she descended into despair and made everyone’s lives around her miserable, like that kind maid of her’s, many others including her staff too and probably even her own father as well. He didn’t understand how he could end up a fairly decent person(in his opinion at least), while she turned into something horrid.

“I get it.” Nino looked ahead as they walked into the open courtyard. “It’s rough. At least Alya and I have each other and our families with us. Some aren’t so lucky. We aren’t as wealthy as, say, you or Chloe, but at least we have that and soon you will too.” Nino smiled at Adrien.

“You think so?”

“If Marinette is any sort of decent human being, she’d be lucky to have you.” Adrien sighed with a dreamy look in his eye. His left thumb traced the edge of the silver ring on his right, middle finger in thought.

“She must be amazing, to go through this and come back from it all.” Nino placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Just, please to get your hopes too high. No one knows really what to expect from her. I just don’t want you to be let down if she isn’t completely to your expectations.” Adrien waved him off. His eyes a sudden vibrant green and distant.

“Nah, I know she’s great.” Nino raised an eyebrow.

“How so?”

“Because...I haven’t even met her yet and she’s already my hero.”

                                 Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter(Not out yet)

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

New Social Media Sucks

Looking back, and to the future.

Quite honestly I hate almost all forms of social media. I think we were decades too early to be broadcast world-wide at the simple click of a button. It's something that's been rushed since MySpace. Facebook and Twitter pushed this concept even faster. Though looking at it, it's also why I hate globalism.

We are too many, raised too many different ways. All being shoved together by the same platforms. Sure Social Media has done good things, but it also started the age of outage culture. A culture where too many people, with too many back grounds can scream at one another either shouting down people who are different or reaffirming their own beliefs through reinforcement (be that positive or negative). Be those beliefs twisted or noble. The issue there, is that what one person considers noble may very well not be, by the standards of someone raised far removed from the same environment. Again we are too many, raised too different.

Now don’t take this to mean that i hate other cultures. Quite the opposite actually. I love experiencing cultures aside from my own. It’s something that makes the world exciting over all. Meeting new people with vastly different world views. Vastly different styles of attire and food. It gives a fresh view on life. Hence the other reason I greatly hate globalism. It meshes cultures together in a fashion that often distorts and destroys parts of those cultures. Sure yes, i can say that there are parts of cultures i’d like to see taken apart (I.E. Human rights violations). This however takes time. Take slavery for instance. A war to end slavery was not fought over an insanely long span of time. Slavery however went on for many years. When it ended so abruptly it was a change for everyone. Not just slave owners, but slaves as well. Most had no where to go and no way to properly survive. In more than a few instances they’d ask the plantation owners to keep them around and just pay them with food and shelter for their work. This is also part of why racism survives too. The people raised by slave owners that thought of Black people as less than human, raised their kids with this mindset as well out of spite for having lost the war with the north. Forced to give up something that had been around for so long. It never dawned on them that it could or would ever change, but it did change and rather quickly.

I will state one fact however. Slavery IS BAD. I don’t wish it to come back ever. I also believe that it ended far too late. People often hate change. They will combat it with every fiber of their being almost always. This however, is not mostly the case when you change things organically. Slowly changing peoples minds over time takes longer yes. However, this leaves less opposition in the way and makes change more solid going into the future. New Social Media is not doing this however. Current mediums like Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, among others, are breeding radicals. Both radicals with isolationist ideas, and other with globalist ideas. This began in early 2014 with the start of the Neo-Feminist movement. Sure, if you look at feminism in it’s prime there is nothing wrong with it at all. In 2014 however, things were not the same as before. These were 3rd wave feminists that had an agenda. Make everything sexist. Their first target for this was Gamer Gate.  A movement started for good reasons. Reasons that some wanted to undermine. Thus began a flame-war that has lasted till now. An interesting tactic of war if you study history, is to make the unaware public fight your enemy for you. This was accomplished by taking bright young minds and indoctrinating them into the cult that is Neo-Feminism by claiming equality for all under the honorable title that is Feminism. The other method they had to accomplish was to slander the name of the “enemy”, as it were. This is why Gaming Journalism as a whole was so Anti Gamer Gate. Because gamers called in to question their ethics. It makes sense that they banded together to fight against GG because their reputations were on the line. As such they banded together with the Neo-Feminists and started an “everything is sexist because men and gamers” campaign.

The general public at large had no clue what was going on until MSM (Mainstream Media) picked up coverage. It was too late though. The radicals had the ball in their court. They threw the words, “Sexist” and “Misogynist” around like candy at a parade. A parade that lasted for almost 2 years. Two whole years of negative reinforcement brought to you by the public MSM. Now you might think, “Well there were women haters that were apart of GG”. I can’t deny that. The number of these however was less than 1%. The FBI even did an investigation into GG to see if it was in fact a hate movement. They came up with basically nothing. Almost all the accounts used as screen caps for the MSM coverage had been faked. Even the death threats were sent under fake user names by the people getting those threats. Don’t believe me. Check the neutral coverage of what happened after the investigation. GG aside however, this was only the start of a much bigger monster over all. A monster that came to be known as the radical left.

Now if you ask me, i don’t claim democrat or republican. I have views on both sides. I know a radical when i hear one though. People who are not calm, never collected, they lack maturity, and they think themselves the purveyor of honorable deeds. Like a hero fighting the fire breathing dragon. It’s called a hero complex, and sadly more than 5% of the population is currently suffering from it. This is where things get complicated though. You can’t be a hero if you don’t have a visible villain to fight, or one at all. Thus you create your own. This monster (fire breathing dragon) is the FAR right; But, like a hero in stories that faces down 100′s-1,000′s of men at once, the far right was not enough of an enemy. As such they broadened their labels. This is where new Social Media came in to play once more. They needed names to call people they deemed an enemy to them, even if there was nothing worthy of being labeled and enemy for. Thus came the onset of Buzzwords. Words that hit you in the face like a buzzer. Racist, Sexist, Homophobic, Trans-phobic, Islamophobic, etc. Words that when heard on Social Media, would be like a battle cry or call to arms. Words that when heard on MSM, would make people think ill of people or groups the public as a whole knew nothing at all about. People grew tired of hearing these words; However in 2016-2017. This gave rise to new definitions of the words (though not officially in any manner) as to spread the net wider. A means to deplatform anyone who would dare stand in the way of these self proclaimed hero’s.

The problem is, these hero’s are not bringing anyone better lives. They are not saving anyone. They are not looking at the world as a whole and solving the big issues. All i end up seeing on Social Media anymore are controversies and hate. Hate from all sides of the fence. And let me be very clear about something. Hate only breeds hate. Violence only breeds violence. This has been proven over MANY years. There are so few sane people left in this world. So few actually tolerant people. And that number is dropping daily. In not small part of Social Media. Social Media that mind you thrives off of these types of controversies. Banning and blocking people who are moderate on both sides of the fence. Only letting the radicals fly their banners freely. 

Truthfully, I’ve lost faith. I’ve lost faith in humanities ability to actually make real progress. Real progress to solve real world problems. Problems like failed socialism and growing poverty in Venezuela, Poverty in many third world countries, human rights violations in the Middle East and parts of Asia. Child grooming gangs and sex trafficking in the UK and Middle East. Poverty and homelessness in the US. The issue though, is we keep making up problems that are so much less urgent than the ones i listed. Things that radicals want to ignore so they can be “hero’s”. I hope to see a better future one day. As it stand however, with social media only growing in span and influence and in a bad way, i don’t see that day coming any time in the future. All i see in the possible future is a pointless war that will kill millions and solve no real problems. All to appease the ego of 5% of the world populace. 

[bluethepaladin]

What do you have against Bex? (Can u also provide evidence thanks 💜)

When I first got this ask, I was tempted to play it off as a joke and say “the fact she exists,” and leave it at that. But I feel like it’s important to stay informed. And if you genuinely don’t know, I’ll give you the complete rundown. It’s long, it’s messy, and it’s nasty, so bear with me.

First, and introduction. When I talk about Bex, I’m referring to the actress Bex Taylor-Klaus, who is the voice actor (or VA) of the character Pidge in the show Voltron Legendary Defender on Netflix.

It all began a while ago when Bex liked a comment of a picture. The picture involved a ship called Shei//th. I censored the name so it doesn’t show up in the tags of that on tumblr. But essentially it’s a ship between two characters, Takashi Shirogane, a 25 year old pilot who is the leader of the team, and Keith Kogane, one of the other “paladins” or fighters on the team. People like me find this ship to be distasteful, since Shiro is an adult, and the others are teens (it’s actually a bit messier than that, since an official Voltron source listed Keith as 18, but the producers of the show, Lauren Montgomery and Joaquim Dos Santos, said they were not consulted on the book so there’s some question as to whether it’s canon or not). Either way, the consensus by most reasonable people is that it’s probably not a healthy thing to depict in children’s media, when you consider the considerable age difference, the power imbalance (leader, senior officer with someone they are in charge of), and finally, the iconic line by the character of Keith himself when he defines their relationship as a familial one.

Nonetheless, the ship persists, as nasty things on tumblr are wont to do. There’s a lot of shipping discourse on tumblr between two distinct groups which can be labelled as “antis”–people who are not in favor of any Shiro/paladin ships, or what has become to be known as “shaladins”–people who ship any variation of Shiro with the paladins.

Here is where Bex got involved. On Instagram there was a picture of a black shoe and a red shoe together and the joke was about the shoes being a prophecy that Shei//th would be canon. A joke, mostly, considering all the evidence above. But here’s where Bex got herself in trouble. She liked a comment on the picture where someone said “Keith is a power bottom confirmed.”

Obviously, this caused a bit of an uproar within the fanbase, especially between the discourse between antis and shaladins. Shaladins were celebrating that an Official Voltron Source liked their ship, and antis were angry about that acknowledgement of the ship at all by official sources, and the sexualization of a kid’s show (more on this later.)

So of course this sparked the discourse on tumblr. One user, @lancehunks, who was receiving asks about Bex, tagged her in the replies.They were definitely unfavorable. 

and 

and a few more. 

Bex, being the big strong, adult, woman she is, decided that she could not take this obviously grievous insult to her name [sarcasm], and decided to reblog them all and respond to them. Keep in mind, that @lancehunks was just 13 years old. And Bex (22) decided that these were appropriate responses:

Yep, you read that right. Not only an adult but employed on a kid’s show! To a 13 year old! The target audience of the very show she’s a part of! (Oh, the hypocrisy). But wait, there’s more:

Just in case you’re confused, let me tell you the many, many reasons why this is unacceptable. 

 Bex is an adult. You’d think she’d be a little more mature by now just in general. It’s the internet and there are trolls.

The person she was addressing was 13!!!! Do I think it was mature to tag Bex in all those posts? No. But it’s… behavior that you can expect from 13 year old’s on the internet. If we swore at and tore down every single one of them every time they did something dumb, we would need a lot more therapists for teens in the world. Plus it’s really disingenuous to pretend that we wouldn’t have done something similar when we were younger if we were in that position.

Bex is famous. While she’s certainly not on the caliber of massive A-List stars like Tom Holland or Zendaya, she has a fanbase that exceeds the normal person’s friend group. Just because she’s been on TV before, she has groupies that will support her no matter what, who will troll for her, who uncritically and unconditionally worship her. I’m not a Bex fan, nor do I really care to know her well enough to know just exactly how many fans she has, to be certain she does have them. When she publicly reblogged those words, that “motherfucker,” those fighting words, she weaponized her fanbase. What I mean when I say that is her behavior gave her groupies permission to behave the same way. By targeting someone who didn’t like her (a thirteen year old!!!!!), she opened the gates to her fans and groupies doing the same thing, to a kid.

This lead to some terrible things happening. The 13 year old was getting death threats, sexual violence threats, and nsfw content, all because Bex just couldn’t let it go. 

What does this mean? Finish it? Finish the kid? If you’re so sick of the fighting, then why did you even respond in the first place? Bex is the one who escalated the situation. Bex is the one who caused the fighting in the first place (by that I mean the fighting between the two that night, the fighting between antis and shaladins has been going on for as long as the show).

There we go. Now he have something resembling dignity. But unfortunately the damage was done, and user @lancehunks deleted their blog. As a direct response to Bex’s actions. Bex caused a 13 year old to leave tumblr. 

When hearing this news, Bex offered a half-assed apology:

This is the most insincere apology I have ever seen. “The internet has Bad things on it and it’s YOUR fault for seeing them” is not an apology. The best part is that she’s a big fat hypocrite. “Sometimes, when it’s harmless, the best thing I can do is shake my head and keep scrolling.” So why didn’t you Bex? Why didn’t you keep scrolling instead of targeting a 13 year old?

In light of recent political events, though there’s one thing that stands out to me: 

Sound like anybody you know? The esteemed President, perhaps?

*disclaimer* I am in no way claiming that Bex is a Trump supporter. I don’t know enough about her–and I don’t want to know enough about her–to know where she leans politically. I’m just drawing the attention to the similarities in moral equivalency going on, here.*

Sure you targeted a 13 year old and weaponized your fanbase, but someone tagging you in a snarky post is just as bad, right? (Wrong.)

You’d think that would be the end. You’d think that Bex would be capable of living and learning, or maybe even just taking her own advice, and keep scrolling. But here we go again.

The next bit of drama started when the possibly canon guide book was released, stating Keith’s age as 18. There was a big celebration on the shaladin side because technically, that would make it “legal” for Keith and Shiro to have sex. Besides the fact that legal ≠ moral, again, Voltron is a kid’s show. But on tumblr this time, Bex posted this.

This time, the discourse surrounding Bex was a little different., This time, the discourse mostly focused on the fact that even if Shiro and Keith disregarded canon and morals and the fact that it’s a kid’s show ever did get in a relationship, the only thing that matters is how they like to have sex.

This is a problem for a lot of reasons. There’s a culture, pretty prominent on tumblr of women, mostly white, who are obsessed with gay sex. They write fanfiction and p*rn solely for their own personal gratification. This, of course, is a gross misinterpretation to wanting LGBT+ representation. If you aren’t a mlm (an acronym for men-loving-man, that includes many sexualities) then writing p*rn about is sexualizing them, using them as a tool to get yourself off, and not like complex human people. Mlm are more than how they like to have sex. In fact, that shouldn’t be a part of a discussion for anybody except between willing partners. This also feeds into the popular and damaging stereotype that gay men are predatory by nature.

So, as a whole, not good. 

And again, we have a whole situation escalated by Bex. The worst part is, to people who tried to explain this to her, the only response they were given was a gif:

So once again, a minor dared to express their distaste for Bex on tumblr. But this time, they didn’t tag her. This time, they censored her name. But Bex found it anyway. And she decided to do the exact same thing that led to a minor leaving the website, and to stop watching the show. 

Have no fear, this time though. This time, Bex is going after a 14 year old, at least she’s not going after kids anymore, right? [sarcasm]

Some final notes. 

Bex claims to be an LGBT+ rights activist. I’m also pretty sure she’s a lesbian herself (again, I already know too much about her, I’m not looking to get to know her better.) So, you’d think, as someone who wants equality for LGBT+ people and communities, she’d have the wherewithal to listen to specific subsets of that group when they say something about themselves, like, for example, young mlm who don’t appreciate being sexualized by a white woman. So I couldn’t help but laugh out loud when I saw this on her blog:

Now, I happen to agree with the above statement, but it’s so ironic, so hypocritical that Bex is talking about the sexualization of anything. Because kid’s shows aren’t safe from her sexualization and mlm certainly aren’t. How can one person be so incredibly oblivious? A mystery that I don’t have any interest in solving. 

I also want to address something a little more devious and a little more dark. I personally know of at least 12 different people who sent Bex asks, politely explaining some of the things I’ve talked about here, or relaying how her words hurt them personally. Bex never answered any of them. But she did answer this:

Just to be perfectly clear, I do not condone or encourage hatemail. Do not send people anything wishing them death or harm in any way. I have never sent nor do plan on sending hatemail, and you should be ashamed of yourself if you do.

However, this is incredibly nefarious. Bex doesn’t answer any of the many asks she got that were polite, but proved her wrong. She didn’t answer any of the young mlm who gave her their personal stories and who weren’t anonymous. Instead, she publishes this. And she did this on purpose, to make her look innocent, to make her look like she’s the one being attacked. I get hatemail every single day too. Things along similar lines to this. I block the user. Delete them, One, because I don’t want to expose my followers to that kind of negativity on a daily basis, two, a mature person knows that deleting them is the best kind of revenge because the user will be constantly looking for a response and they will know they had no effect on me and three, because if you do that, eventually they stop. This is intentional on Bex’s part to make the people who don’t like her look bad. I don’t like Bex at all, and I certainly do not support that message. Any reasonable person wouldn’t. Also the fact that it’s an anonymous message adds a certain air of doubt as to who sent it. 

The point is, Bex is purposely ignoring polite and well-meaning people and posted this to “prove” she’s the one on the “good” side because no good person would send that message.

This is also worth noting: 

This was posted after the lancehunks debate but before the power bottom comment she made. In this post, Bex admits that a relationship between Shiro and any of the paladins is predatory in nature. She said that. Her words. And then after that she said that Keith was a power bottom. 

The last thing I want to say, is that Voltron is a kid’s show. It’s rated US-TV-Y7. Which means for years 7 and older. Regardless of the ship, there should be no sexual content, be it fanart, of fanfiction of Voltron characters at all. We are all collectively responsible for keeping content age-appropriate for the target audience. So, stop it. All and any ships. 

For minors, this is my advice to you:Bex is a predator, a hypocrite, and a liar. Do not engage with her. Block her. Do not tag her in any of your posts. She has a history of targeting minors. Protect yourself. Do not engage.

[ihealthlove1-blog]

The Complete Guide to Teaching Kids Consent at Every Age

The sexual conversation Should occur at every age

Maybe one of the most damaging misconceptions in regards to the”sex talk” is that it should happen all at one time. You sit down your child when you think that they’re ready. You lay out the birds and the bees — and then you proceed on with your life.

But the truth is, even by the time you struck on them with the talk, children of all ages have become a bunch of messages about gender, relationships, and also approval from someplace else. From cartoons to fairy tales, nursery rhymes to pop up songs, grandmother into the kid next door… by the time your kid can understand these stories, they’ve already internalized a few theories.

So as a parent, then it’s your job to interpret, clarify, interrogate, and convey those messages.

And among the very vital lessons — for both boys, girls, and nonbinary kiddies — is sexual support. Exactly what exactly it is? How can you give it and just how do you request it? Most importantly, why it’s so crucial for healthy relationships?

To know just what to teach kiddies, and to figure out in what age each lesson is most appropriate, we sat with Brenna Merrill, prevention planner at Relationships Violence Services in Missoula, Montana, and Kelly McGuire, coordinator of Make Your Move! Missoula sexual assault prevention project that centers around consent education and bystander intervention.

Together, they gave us a summary of what a timeline of permission lessons can look like for families. They also shared a number of their favorite sexual approval resources for the parents.

Toddlers and early elementary Children

1. Teach the correct language early

Consent instruction should start when kiddies can understand the basic principles concepts behind it. The absolute best location to start? Giving your child the correct, scientific vocabulary to describe their own body parts, for example, words like:

vulva

vagina

Manhood

testicles

Rectum

There are two key reasons to steer clear of words and slang. First and foremost, correct labels break the stigma and make a person who’s sex favorable and perhaps not embarrassed to discuss their health with their parents — not to mention an upcoming teen who isn’t scared to publicly and clearly convey with their amorous partner.

Ditching the slang makes small children better equipped to report sexual abuse.

“If you’ve got a preschooler who says,’My hoo-ha hurts,’ an adult like a teacher or relative may possibly not understand what she is saying,” says Merrill. “However, if she’s using the correct language, men and women in the exterior world can understand.” Avoid misinterpretation

When your child is educated kid words or”family words” for their body, caretakers, teachers, doctors, and a government may possibly reevaluate what your kid says. This can delay discovery on health difficulties or sexual abuse, or induce dangerous mis-communications to happen.

2. Teach physiological liberty and freedom

The next step in this age is to teach your young ones bodily autonomy: the style that an individual has control over exactly what happens on their body, including who gets to touch it.

Respect your children’ wishes when it comes to hugging, kissing, cuddling, and tickling. The only exceptions are in things of safety; as an example, in case a child should be restrained from hurting others or themselves.

The major example here is they aren’t”forced” to kiss and hug anybody, even grandmother. Kids should get to select their level of contact based on their degree of comfort.

A common premature consent lesson

Do not tickle your child if they have asked you to stop unless it’s over the clear guidelines of a game. They should clearly know and hope when someone says”no” to bodily touch, that request should be instantly respected.

In addition to letting your child realize they make to decide on when someone strikes then you should also begin teaching them which consent belongs both ways. A simple spot to start? Teach them to ask their friends whenever they prefer to be hugged before going in for an embrace.

3. Discuss approval with friends and Loved Ones

A vital section of teaching bodily autonomy in this age is also educating your friends and family about boundaries, too. This manner Grandma doesn’t get offended when she doesn’t obtain a kiss. She needs to be aware that it’s not really a requirement her grandchildren kiss and hug sit down on her lap and you’ll be able to teach her that she is able to offer alternatives.

“If you teach your kid bodily liberty, you’re not just teaching them to say no, you’re teaching them plenty of consent-related abilities. Much like saying,’Can I high five you alternatively?’ When a kiss is not wanted,”

“You’re mirroring what it appears like to be denied. If a child refuses a kiss, then you can declare,I know you still love me if you do not want to kiss me’ This announcement indicates that physical signature isn’t wrong or bad in this specific relationship, just this at this moment, that you do not want physical touch”

4. Teach the importance of reporting

The final education puzzle piece to consent for children is to teach them if someone succeeds their bodily autonomy, or touches them at a private field, it’s not their fault. But it’s vital that they tell a grownup.

As your child ages, you might explain that certain individuals can possess different degrees of use of their entire body. By way of example, it’s nice if mom frees you, but perhaps not a complete stranger. It’s fine to the full-body rough house having a friend as long as you agree to it.

Again, this really isn’t a lesson that should be supplied once, however, the one which should include reminders and discussions as time passes. Many children understand that using a stranger touch them sexually ought to really be reported immediately to an adult they trust. Fewer teens, though, know the significance of reporting breaches of permission using peers.

Late basic and Middle School children

1. Build stronger, healthier bounds

As your children enter middle school or junior high, your lessons about approval and autonomy will increase in sophistication.

This really is a great time to discuss concepts like coercion, when someone persuades one to agree to something against your initial will. You can even talk about how to establish healthy boundaries with people, and exactly what they have to do when those bonds are broken.

2. Publish theories of sexism and misogyny

At this age groups, it’s imperative to speak with your kiddies in depth about sexism and gender bias. Why? Sexism and misogyny have a great deal related to consent and Can Cause harmful truths and myths about relationships and consent, for example as:

Men must always want sex and also are required to push the bounds of just how much they can opt for mates.

The woman is really a”gatekeeper” responsible for pacing or stopping sexual actions. Ladies should obey men.

It isn’t”masculine” or amorous to ask before kissing a female or building a move sexually.

“You’ll find sex roles which can lead to sexual scripts that can be harmful to sexual intimacy,” explains McGuire. “Like a gatekeeping version, if a male asks a lady for sex, and the feminine accounts for saying no. That is based on a detrimental stereotype that men are almost always horny and ready for sex”

3. Teach critical thinking skills

This is also a time to help your kids to become independent critical thinkers using examples onscreen. “They are going to become harmful messages even though you are not around, plus so they need to have the skills to think critically about them,” says Merrill.

Should you visit sexism in the world around you, like in music, television, pictures, or real-life scenarios, point it out and ask them what they think.

Make certain to also explain when you can observe consensual behavior (there’s a great, amorous, verbally consensual kiss by the end of”Frozen” for example).

“Truly, the focus must not be on teaching your son or daughter what they should do, but assisting them to know why you have the values you have, just how you came to a choice on your own life, and also the way they could come into decisions by themselves,” says Merrill.

Avoid too much lecturing and instead, try to veer toward two-way conversations. “Ask the kids questions, and respect their opinions,” McGuire says. “They will not keep in touch with their parents in the event that you’re not interested in their remarks. Stepping to a task of listening and asking questions can open a lot about conversations”

4. Learn How to respond when your children ask about gender

This is also the age when children might begin asking questions about sexuality and sex you could not be prepared to answer — but they are mature enough to understand.

“Don’t be afraid to say’Whoa, which required me by surprise, but let’s talk about this tomorrow once dinner,””’ Merrill says. “Additionally, make sure you leave the door open for more conversation ”

Ultimately, be certain to end the talk with a reassuring statement, such as,”I love you just came and talked to me personally about this.”

High school kids and young adults

High schoolers and adults are prepared to learn concrete courses about sexual liberty and healthy sexual relationships in full detail. These may be some of the toughest lessons to teach for kids, however, they truly are definitely the most vital bits to help your kids know consent and build healthy relationships.

1. Carry on with more complex issues surrounding sexual approval

One particular mistake parents make when talking consent is they have restricted conversations with their children — and male kids get habituated different discussions than female children.

For instance, males have a tendency to get only enough information about permission to prevent illegal activities related to rape and attack, while women might only acquire enough information to stop their own rape and attack.

This sort of”disaster avoidance” sex education can indeed prevent some legalities, however, it will not help break our foundational cultural issues about approval or lend toward establishing enjoyable, equitable relationships.

Teens should know what verbal permission sounds like, in addition to the method that it is possible to ask,” McGuire says. “They should also understand what non-verbal consent appears like. They should understand if their partner is very quiet, or lying that that isn’t the passionate consent they are trying to find, and it is time to communicate before they keep going.”

Most children do not speak for their parents about gender — you can change this statistic.

1 poll of 18- to 25-year-olds found that Most had never spoken with their parents about:

“Ensure that your partner wants to have sex and so is comfortable doing so before having sex” (61 percent)

Assuring your”personal comfort before engaging in sex” (49 percent)

That the”significance of not pressuring a person to have sex with you” (56% )

The”importance of not continuing to request someone to have intercourse after they have said no” (62 percent)

That the”significance of never having sexual intercourse with someone who is overly drunk or diminished to make a decision about sex” (5–7 percent)

The above study also discovered that a majority of kids who didn’t have these conversations with their parents said that have been influential.

That means that only starting the dialog with your adolescents might help them adopt approval and think more about their relationships, even if you fear that you never know how to absolutely approach these subjects.

2. Converse about pornography

Due to the rising popularity of mobile devices and access to the world wide web, you can not discount that your teen is quite likely researching porn in a certain form. With no proper education from parents about what porn is, how it works, and its particular issues, kids usually take away misguided messages about sex, relationships, and intimacy. At worse, these beliefs can be detrimental to others.

“There is a lot of research developing about how small children are becoming exposed to born out of fascination, and they aren’t getting information about their sexual health everywhere,” says McGuire. “It’s simply not a very realistic portrayal of sex. A whole lot of porn doesn’t portray women well, also there are lots of mixed messages regarding consent.”

Your conversations relating to porn depend on the age and maturity of your teen. Younger adolescents may simply be curious about gender and the human body, in which case you can share appropriate resources that answer their questions.

“As an example, teen girls will compare themselves to those in pornography and truly feel poor while boys may fear they won’t be able to sexually perform like the men in porn,” says Dr. Janet Brito, a licensed psychologist and sex therapist with the Center for Sexual and Reproductive Health.

“Teens could get the wrong impression about size, just how long sex should survive, believe it simply merely happens without the communicating, or develop preconceived notions of how it’s likely to be.”

Ethical, feminist pornography does exist. However, while watching the right pornography recreationally may be absolutely healthy, a lot of the porn easily accessible to kids can be violent, also it has been proven to increase sexual violence from the teens who watch it.

“On the other hand,” Brito increases, “adolescents who become interested about pornography might be expressing a developmentally appropriate tendency to sexually explore since their bodies are changing and they are starting to form deeper bonds. Other positive consequences are that they may learn in their own sexual joy as well as develop resiliency.”

Conversations with older adolescents may consist of issues about the ethics of porn, why most porn isn’t realistic, so the bond between most pornography and misogyny, and perhaps resources which relate them to moral resources of porn.

3. Discuss what a healthy sexual relationship looks like

From the previously mentioned study, 70 percent of 18- to 25-year-olds wished that they’d obtained more info from their parents concerning the emotional and intimate facets of connections, for example how to:

Possess a mature relationship (38% )

Treat breakups (36 percent)

Prevent getting hurt in a relationship (3–4 percent)

Begin a connection (27% )

Each one of those problems is tied in many ways to recognizing approval.

Again, start discussions with your kids while consuming press or after you see a good or poor example of a wholesome relationship. Ask them how they believe and what they think, and get them to think seriously about what it means to be a caring romantic partner and what it means to be looked after.

“That isn’t just about avoiding assault,” says McGuire. “It’s all about creating healthy folks who have the tools and skills to possess happy and healthy romantic relationships”

Remember: teaching permission is a continuing dialog

Teaching our children about approval might appear awkward or foreign, not just because it involves the field of gender, but also since the majority of today’s adults didn’t get consent education as kiddies. But, perhaps one of the very rewarding elements of parenting is our own ability to break cycles that are harmful, create new norms, and enhance life to our kids and the next generation.

Making certain our children fully understand notions like physiological autonomy and verbal consent can go a long way towards ensuring that their budding romantic relationships are much safer, healthier, happier.

Even in the event you have older children and missed on previous courses, it’s never too late to begin teaching your children about the importance of sexual consent.

[lutalicaforever]

A Tocsin from UNICEF: Cyberbullying.

One of Six Demons.

During the early 1990s when the word “chat room” was used to describe online messaging, insults were simpler, more benign, a learning experience. They were named flaming.

FLAMING (flaming) n. 1. To engage in an inline argument usually involving unfounded personal attacks by one or more parties. [Urban Dictionary]

In an effort to “educate” newbies, a more seasoned user of the particular chat room would send off a sarcastic, sometimes hurtful but often creative comment — known as a flame. Take the case of the 1994 Moby, who asked Usenet group how he was supposed to bring a date home when his two cats were constantly puking or in heat. One user flamed, “Get a sense of humor, or a life. In that order.” followed by a silence and group exit by Moby. This “art of flaming” is illustrated in Virginia Shea’s book Netiquette where she explains in detail how an arrival of flame was signaled.

CYBERBULLYING (cyberbullying) n. 1. An advanced form of bullying; the electronic posting of mean-spirited comment about a person (such as a student) often done anonymously. Often takes a form of a meme, a troll, or even a picture.

[UNICEF (Child Online Protection in India)] & [Merriam-Webster Dictionary]

Megan Meier, a 13-year-old girl, had an online boyfriend named Josh Evans, he suddenly turned on her, writing “You are a bad person and everybody hates you…the world would be a better place without you.” Megan hanged herself in her bedroom wardrobe. A couple of blocks down, Lori Drew reportedly laughed when she heard of the suicide. She was masquerading online as the teenage boy to see if Megan was saying anything bad about her own daughter Sarah. The days following the county prosecutor discovered there was NO LAW on the books to make a case against Lori Drew, though the state of Missouri quickly passed laws on cyber-bullying for the future. For now, Lori Drew is sentenced to three years in prison and a $300,000 fine and the Megan Meier Cyberbullying Prevention Act is now pending in Congress, which will be too late for a young sad girl.

This is the evolution of flaming, from a decent sarcastic, or a SIGNALED flame to a life threatening and suicide involving comment. Cyberbullying is real, and it’s happening on a worldwide scale, a person sitting in Huston, Texas can make you question your existence in Aligarh, India.

“Cyberbullying is a ‘pernicious’ issue.” ~ Theresa May, UK Home Secretary

India, a developing country, where the DIGITAL ILLITERACY rate is more than 90% of the total population (source), the most common answer to a cyber threat is “ignore it” — the imperfect default due to this illiteracy! Sexting, abusing, violence, rape threats, and stalking is some of the major issues casting a dangerous shadow on Indian children, according to UNICEF.

A class 9 girl sent over 30 sexually explicit pictures to a boy in class 11, which he took as an invite from her and approached her to start a physical relationship. When she got scared and tried to back out, he threatened to make those pictures public. This case was taken to the school counselor where afterward the boy was held guilty and gave a written apology to the girl.

These incidents are easily labeled as privacy or security incidents, but to think of them solely in those terms is a mistake. India being almost digitally illiterate and Internet immature, has failed to address the societal impact of technology and these breaches are a wake-up call for all. We’re at a point where new life skills are needed in order to enjoy the benefits of the Internet. Preparing ourselves for new communications technology, just like when we learn to drive. We go to driving school to improve our safety and the safety of others, why shouldn’t we do the same when we decide to go online? ideas like theses are embodied in growing moment known as digital citizenship. It represents an evolution in our norms — the ways we think about our personal responsibility, and the ways we respect and look out for others online.

“A study commissioned by Microsoft in 2012 ranked India third for high online bullying rates among 25 different countries where survey was conducted.” ~ UNICEF Report

For kids, it’s more than just the general insults and abuse that the anonymity of the Internet permits. When telecommunications were less ubiquitous, the home could represent something of a separate zone for adolescents, where they could switch off their school identities. Even a kid from dysfunctional families generally has some autonomy once they’ve closed their bedroom doors. But kids who come home and look up their Facebook pages face the same problem a celebrity, a blogger, or an Internet writer does: they are always on. The bullies who taunt in school hallways are most likely to be there again, the moment you go into your bedroom and turn on your computer.

Schools are expected to be aware of a student social stigmatization and ostracism and to intervene to do something about it. Mandating an anti-bullying training for schools personnel and making reporting of incidents obligatory to the respective parents. Schools should not involve themselves, rather they should make sure that the parents get to the speed. That will probably mean at least somewhat fewer kids going through cyber bullying, and that’s a very good thing.

A major thing that should be taught to students across schools and border is to STOP, THINK, and CONNECT. Taking their time to understand the risks of use and learning to spot potential problems. Next, considering how actions online could impact the safety of themselves and others. Last, enjoying the benefits of the Internet with greater confidence.

“Kids get on the sofa on Friday and spend the whole weekend on Snapchat, Facebook, Kik or Instagram — their weapons of Mass Destruction.” ~ Jennifer Pagan, Restorative Justice Mediator, On how physical fights result from online spats.

Schools sometimes become a battleground for a feud happened online, If someone makes an ugly remark online and an argument ensues, one kid will tell another, ‘Okay, when we get to school tomorrow, I’m going to handle it.’ this makes Mondays particularly contentious and makes it important for school officials to be aware of the happenings on social media and have to take it seriously and talk to students over and over about it.

There are many initiatives who try to bring forward the witnesses, as per The Teens, Tweens and Technology Survey commissioned by Intel Securities in India in 2015, 43 per cent of children active on social media claimed to have witnessed cruel behavior on social networks, but only a very few of that percent reported it to the officials and took any action for one getting bullied. I Am A Witness Campaign is a very good example of bringing old school awareness campaign to the Internet, where iOS (Apple ecosystem) and Android (Google’s ecosystem) has integrated (👁‍🗨) emoji in the keyboard, symbolizing the phenomenon of witnessing any form of bullying and talking about it.

“Just as we learned to look both ways before crossing the street, we want children to learn to make smart choices when using the Internet.” ~ Michael Busselen, McAfee Senior Vice President of Global External Affairs.

With the World Wide Web now in its third decade, it seems natural that it’s newest consumers learn to cultivate their digital fluency at the start of their online journey, rather than waiting to learn the hard way where their actions can go wrong. Teaching the basics of Digital Citizenship and Internet maturity while young can go a long way into a more secure future of children on the Internet. The online world is young. It’s evolving, and we’re all learning to live in it. In my opinion, both the technology companies and the schools of India must adopt a comprehensive Digital Citizenship & Internet Maturity (DCIM) program urgently. While dot-com companies and smartphone manufacturers must adopt DCIM by building simple, engaging tools to educate their users and work towards a better future, schools must do so by incorporating DCIM into their curricula.

[alienwerewolff]

Second Generation

A Supernatural FanFiction Sam Winchester x OC)

Rated M: Mature adult content, smut, violence, alcohol, drugs, ect.

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Full Summery: Elliott and her brother Max are have been hunting all their lives, but shortly after Elliott’s twenty second birthday they discover that she has a freaky ability. Max scared for his only family seeks help, finding it in the Winchesters. Unfortunately, her ability has some very similar traits to the demon Azazel’s ‘special children’, but that can’t be right. Azazel is dead. Dean killed the yellow eyed bastard himself, right? (Set in season 4)

*New Chapter Summery* Chapter 14: A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes When Elliott makes a wish in a wishing well the impossible happens. 

Ao3

Wattpad

FFN

Chapter 14: A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

Sam and Elliott were in their motel room looking over the case Dean had stumbled upon. Something to do with women and showers so of course Dean had rushed out to interview said women. The radio was on a local oldies station turned down low so they both could focus on their work.

*Here comes the sun, here comes the sun and I say, it’s alright-*

Elliott visibly winced, she hadn’t expected that particular Beatles song on a local radio station. She tried to ignore the tune as it played softly through the speakers. Sam didn’t miss it. He may have been a little overbearing the last few days but it only made him more aware of her ability to hide her grief.

*Little darling it’s been a long cold lonely winter, little darling it seems like years since it’s been here. Here comes the sun, here comes the sun-*

“Ellie? You okay?” Sam’s concern not at all hidden. Unable to ignore it she quickly reached up turning the soft melody off in a flash.

“I’m fine.” She lied looking back to the report in front of her. Sam’s eyes narrowed.

“No, you’re not. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong Sam.” She huffed still eyeing the papers in front of her.

“It’s just me Ellie. You can talk to me.” Sam continued to pushed. Elliott sighed letting her head hang down, but relaxed when she felt his warm hand rub soothing circles on her lower back.

“Max.” She breathed quietly. “He uh, he- that song was kinda a family song. Used to sing me it to sleep when I was a baby.” Unable to speak above a whisper not wanting to crack. She had been doing so good, worked a case earlier and didn’t crack once. Now a stupid song on the radio was breaking her. “Like I said, it’s nothing-”

“I’m sorry I pushed.” He sighed and tucked a stand of coppery blonde behind her ear.

“I’ll be fine Sam. Just can’t listen to it right now. I really hope this case isn’t a bust. I could really use the distraction.” Right on time they heard Dean heard on the other side of the door. He was chuckling as he made his way through the door shutting it behind him and fixed the salt line.

“You’ll never guess what kind of wack jobs live here.” Dean snickered.

“What?” Elliott smiled glad for the change in topic. She was honestly doing much better but still tried to avoid anything that had to do with her deceased brother.

“So, the shower room lady was either attention crazy or just plain crazy. Then I run into a bigfoot fanatic on my way back.” He huffed. “At least this towns good for a laugh.”

“Wait bigfoot?” Sam snorted.

“There’s LSD in the water or something man.” Dean joked causing Elliott to chuckle. “Alright so downside there’s most likely no case. Upside that means it’s time to break for diner.”

“It was worth a try, I guess. No pervy ghosts haunting the women’s bathrooms.” Elliott sighed, with a sour face.

“Your turn Sweetheart. Where we eating tonight?” Dean questioned beyond ready to eat.

“Chinese?” She asked hopeful smile on her lips. Chinese was always Max’s favorite. They used to celebrate a successful hunt with Chinese takeout. Dean was all too quick to agree not caring too much where or what they ate. He just wanted to eat.

 It was a typical Chinese restaurant. The three of them sat at a small table by a cheesy fountain. Elliott wondered if Sam had purposefully sat on the end of the bench seat to box her in. Dean sat across from them all stretched out taking up as much of his seat as possible.

Once they ordered Dean smiled down at the small hunter. “Chinese? We haven’t gotten Chinese in a while. Good pick Ell.”

Elliott briefly met his eyes only to look away and stare intently at the cheap table top. She shrugged picking at a crack on the table. “It was Max’s favorite. When I first started hunting, we were too young to go to a bar, so Max would bring me to the closest Chinese restaurant after a good hunt. It kinda became a tradition.”

Dean nodded with a sad smile. “I miss him too kid. We can try and keep up the tradition if you want?”

Unshed tears pricked at her eyes and she couldn’t verbally respond without shedding them just sniffed giving him a nod. Sam rested his arm along her shoulder silently giving her comfort. Landing a quick kiss to her temple just before their food arrived. She ate her sweet and sour chicken in silence listening to the brother’s bicker.

When the check came back with their change Elliott snatched a quarter. “Let me out.” Sam raised a brow at her but moved when she started to push at his shoulder lightly. Then saw her eyes on the fountain and laughed getting up so she could get by him.

“Oh, come on! Don’t waste my change on that.” Dean complained.

“Let her be Dean. It’s just a quarter.” Sam defended still smiling.

Elliott ignored the men’s squabbling and closed her eyes. She let out a humorless huff tossing the coin. It landed un in the water with a dull ‘plop’. Turning back to the table to watch the men continued their banter. The bell chimed announcing a customer coming in the door. Not even sparing a glance that way she took a step to her table when an impossible voice called her name.

“Ellie?”

It was like she had forgotten how to breath. The voice froze her to the spot for a moment but when she could move her head snapped in his direction. It was him! It was impossible but it was him. His messy brown curly hair that stuck up in random spots. His dark mischievous green eyes confused, wary of his surroundings. Not even half a second later Elliott was screaming with joy and flung herself at her big brother.

Her arms constricting his torso holding on for dear life. It took a moment to reciprocate in his confusion but she felt his arms hug her back. Elliott in her excitement hadn’t even heard the Winchesters calling out her name shouting for her to stop. She was now bawling her eyes out both happy and sad tears. Not caring that she was in public or who might witness her vulnerability.

“Ellie? Wh-what’s going on? Are you okay?” Max stammered completely confused and worried. He had never seen his baby sister act like this, not even when she was a child. Elliott was crying too hard to give him a straight answer.

Suddenly Max was shoving Elliott behind him. “Who the Hell are you?” Max barked at Sam and Dean when they approached too quickly and tried to pull his little sister away from him.

“Why don’t we take this back to the motel? Away from the public.” Dean growled out evenly.  

Neither Winchester believed this was actual Max. He didn’t even remember them for fucks sake. Max’s dark green eyes shifted around the restaurant now noting all of the gawking civilians. Then looked back to his crying sister in his arms. Sighing reluctantly and nodding his agreement. He kept his arms around his sniffling sister protectively as they left the restaurant. Sam and Dean followed watching with unease. They were terrified for the small hunter, that was in what just couldn’t be her brother’s arms.

 A silver blade cut a small slice of Max’s forearm as he sat annoyed on the edge of a motel bed. His sniffling sister sat next to him, her giant puffy eyes like saucers staring at him in disbelief. As Sam and Dean finished the last of the tests, he rubbed his aching temples.

“See not a monster. I’m guessing you two are hunters? What the Hell is going on? What’s wrong with Ellie?” Max fired off questions without giving them time to respond.

“You don’t remember them?” Elliott’s soft voice spoke out for the first time since the restaurant. Max looked back at her brow raised cautiously.

“Should I?”

“What’s the last thing you remember Max?” Sam questioned slowly sitting on Elliott’s other side. Letting his hand rest on her knee and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know you. Why should I tell you anything?” Max snapped eyes narrowing on the man’s hand on his sister’s leg.

“Max, buddy we’re your friends’ man,” Dean tried to assure, cautiously uncrossing his arms to appear less threatening. Elliott stepped in seeing Max was about to protest.

“Max, their telling the truth. That’s Dean Winchester. Amazing hunter and a really close friend. He’s like family Max.” Elliott gestured to Dean sitting across from them on the edge of the other bed. Then turned to smile at her giant. “And this is Sam Winchester his brother, also an amazing hunter and my- uh- my boyfriend?” Elliott questioned unsure what she should even call Sam. They hadn’t really put a label on it and the word boyfriend did feel right on her tongue. He was more than just a boyfriend she thought but was unsure how to word it properly.

Max cocked his head to the side eyes ping ponged back and forth between the two. Elliott could feel her brother’s apprehension and bit her lip waiting for Max to respond.

“Boyfriend? But you don’t date. Not since that asshole in-”

“Max.” Elliot stopped him trying to shake her head discreetly.

“What asshole?” Sam turned to her with a frown.

“Nothing Sam.” She sighed. “Nothing happened if you recall Max. Because I can handle myself.”

Max suddenly let out a groan and rubbed his temples again.

“Max?” Elliott fretted. “Max, are you okay?”

“Yeah you don’t look so good.” Dean asked feeling on edge. Dean thought it sounded, acted, and freaking looked like Max. Maybe a little paler and sick looking Max but that didn’t explain anything. Still not sure if he believed his dead friend was alive again, it would be too good to be true.

“Uhh, just a bad headache.” Max deflected. “Ellie, I don’t understand. If you’re so close to them why don’t I know or remember them?”

“You- uh you-” Elliott stuttered. Sam gave a comforting squeeze to her shoulder before jumping in to save her.

“Max, you’ve been dead for over a month now.” The young Winchester explained gently as he could. Max laughed in disbelief before catching their serious faces. Then shot up out of his seat like he’d been electrocuted. Eyes flitting around the room examining each face for any hint of humor but found none.

“No way,” He shook his head completely stunned.

“Max,” Sam cautioned. “Why don’t you sit down, you need to relax.”

He let out another groan and held his head, refusing to take a seat. “What? How did this happen? I died, like died, died?” His brows lifted slightly and he turned to meet Elliott’s puffy eyes. “That’s why you were crying at the restaurant. But I- I don’t remember- How’d I die?”

“Ugh. That’s gnarly.” Max grimaced when the trio had finished filling in the blanks for him. “Kinda glad I don’t remember that.”

“Lucky you.” Elliott mumbled under her breath but caught Sam’s ear. That earned her his concerned puppy eyes.

“I still don’t get it. If I died why am I here?” Max questioned slowly.

Dean’s head whipped around to Elliott with an accusing glare and growled. “Oh, sweetheart you’re in for a major ass kicking if you went back and made that deal.”

“You what?!?” Max shouted turning on his sister as well. Sam’s eyes went wide as his panicked, mind racing to think of a time she could have snuck off to make a deal.

“No!” Elliott shouted back over him shaking her head violently. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to remember? I’ve already tried that. I am the only person on the planet they won’t deal with.” Sam and Dean visibly relaxed, but not Max.

“Elliott!! You tried to sell your soul?!?” Max barked beyond furious. Letting out a sting of curses he pointed a finger at his sister and growled. “You are not that stupid! I didn’t raise you to be that stupid!”

“It doesn’t matter Max! It didn’t even work! They wouldn’t make a deal with me. I still have my soul. Besides I think we have bigger issues right now.” Elliott huffed glaring right back at her brother.

“Bigger than your soul?!” Max nearly shouted exasperated, looking at her like she had grown a second head.

“Max. Not that I’m complaining but if Ellie didn’t sell her soul, how are you even alive right now?” Sam spoke up giving Elliott a break from her brothers reprimanding. Max gave her a look that obviously meant they were not done with this conversation. Then turned to the Winchesters.

“Yeah, one minute were paying the bill and the next Elliott’s screaming and your standing there alive and in one piece.” Dean unconsciously stared at Max’s chest where he had been ripped into.

“Hmm…” All eyes turned to Elliott humming out loud.

“You think of something?”

“Uh, maybe? It’s ridiculous though…” She bit her lower lip and fidgeted with the hairband around her wrist. All three men looked at her expectantly. “Maybe, uh- maybe it could have been the wishing well?” There were a couple moments of silence, as they all processed her words.

“Wishing well?” Max parroted in disbelief. Sam and Dean glanced at one another having one of their ‘telepathic’ conversations then turned to Elliott with softened eyes.

“You wished for Max.” Sam stated rather than questioned.

“Wait, wait, wait. No, are you trying to tell me I am only alive right now because of a wishing well?” Max scoffed skeptically.

“Only one way to find out.” Dean shrugged on his jacket gesturing for the door. Max blinked a few times before walking out the door Dean now was holding open for them.

“It doesn’t matter how Max is alive.” Elliott defended. “He’s back. That’s all that matters. Everything is going to be okay now.” Sam and Dean shared an uneasy look before Dean followed Max out giving Sam and Elliott a moment.  

“Ellie? Baby… this kind of magic, it always comes at a price-” Sam started but she wasn’t having it.

“Stop.” She stated coldly. “Don’t. You got your brother back. Why can’t I have mine?” She left following the older hunters out to the Impala without giving Sam a chance to respond.

Elliott couldn’t help her toothy grin as she looked into the parking lot. She watched her brother fanboy all over Baby again. Just like he did the first time, asking almost the exact same questions. Not even Dean could hide his smile as he talked about Baby with his very missed friend. Dean even made Sam scrunch into the back seat with Elliott to let Max ride shotgun.

 Knowing that they had made too big of a commotion earlier to go back into the restaurant they waited for closing hour. When the owner finally left for the night locking up and driving away, they made their move. Sam quickly picked the lock and all four shuffled in. Gathering around the fountain and eyed it carefully.

“Give me a quarter.” Dean held his hand out expectantly. Receiving and eye roll from his brother before he dug through his pockets and placed a quarter in his hand. Dean wet his lips subconsciously then closed his eyes mouth moving silently as he wished and let the quarter plop into the water. They waited a few silent moments where nothing happened.

“What’d you wish for?” Max whispered at Dean.

Dean huffed. “Not supposed to tell.”

A loud knock made all four hunters turn to the glass door their hands hovering at their concealed weapons. A bigger man in a ball cap and jacket that labeled ‘Schlotzsky's Subs’ stood at the door impatiently. Dean’s jaw went slack in surprise and he made his way to the door.

“You the one who ordered the footlong Italian with jalapenos?” The man asked when Dean had opened the door. The other three hunters hadn’t moved from the fountain and were just staring dumbstruck at them.

Dean turned back to the hunters, sandwich in hand. The delivery man was already in his car and driving off. The older Winchester gave another shrug opening the wrappings and inspecting the sandwich. He took a large bite chewing loudly.

“A sandwich? You wished for a sandwich?” Sam bawked.

“Dude, I think she’s right. The wishing well does work. I was pretty specific.” Dean concluded around a mouthful.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Max mumbled causing everyone to turn to his pale stunned face. “I- I- I’m only alive because of a wishing well…”

“Max, calm down,” Sam tried to sooth his panicked friend.

“No. No, this is insane.” Max’s heaved, and eyes glazed over unfocused. His breath sped up becoming shallow.

“Max.” Elliott grabbed her brothers face to force him to look at her then gave his head a small wack when he still stared off panting quickly. “Snap out of it.” She demanded.

Max blinked and glared at his sister as his breathing became deeper. He rubbed the back of his head where she had wacked him, annoyed that she was able to snap him out a panic attack with a hit to his head.

 Back at the cheap motel the four of them debated. Unsure if this wishing well was something to be messed with. Sam was particularly quiet as he typed away at the small table. Dean stood near him leaning against the wall his arms crossed as he thought out loud.

“What are we supposed to do? Stop peoples wishes from coming true? Kinda sounds like a douche thing to do.” Dean shrugged.

“Not to mention hypocritical considering.” Elliott agreed from her seat across from Sam. She rubbed her forehead and looked to her brother on the edge of the bed.

“When has something like this ever come without a price tag?” Max interjected, giving them a worried glance.

“Usually a deadly one.” Sam added somberly.

“Stop. No, no, no. No. We don’t know that. Dean’s sandwich wish didn’t go bad. Why do we even have to look into this?” Elliott almost begged desperate. “Why can’t we just be happy with Max being back, and move on to a new town? We can find a hunt with an actual bad guy, we could-”

A loud gurgle grumbled from Dean’s stomach, stopping everyone. A moment passed before it happened again. This time Dean grimaced and held a hand to his stomach. Then his other hand flew to his mouth and he ran into their motel bathroom, slamming the door shut as he went. The closed bathroom door did nothing to quiet Dean’s retching. His loud puking caused both Sam and Max to wince. Connecting the dots, knowing what this meant Elliott’s breath hitched insides shattering.

“You okay in there, Dean?” Sam knocked on the door before more sounds of vomiting echoed out to their ears. When the noises slowed down Dean finally answered.

“The wish turned bad Sammy. The wish turn very bad.” Dean groaned weakly through the door.

Elliott turned to her brother with wide wet eyes, that could give Sam’s puppy dog eyes a run for its money. Max gave her a sad smile, understanding as well. Failing to suppress a whimper she snatched her cigarettes off the motel table refusing to meet either of their eyes and quickly dashed out of the motel room.

Sam sighed out and ran a hand down his face. His heart breaking for both Max and Elliott. She had just started to open up and smile again, if this thing with Max went bad like Dean’s sandwich, he didn’t know how she would handle it. Then there was Max. Fuck, Sam couldn’t imagine what was going through his head. How he could possible process any of this. Sam stood up to follow her out but Max got up as well and blocked his way.

“I got this Sam.” Max sighed.

“Max, wait. This can’t be easy on you. How are you feeling? Are you okay? Felling weird at all?”

“Are you asking me if I’m craving human flesh or something?” Max sassed causing Sam to look away in shame.

“Uh, I’m sorry. That was rude- I- I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“No, you’re right to ask, I would have done the same. I’m not craving flesh. But honestly? I don’t, I don’t feel right. It’s like my body knows I’m not supposed to be here? My head has been pounding like a fucking jackhammer and my muscles are all week and achy. Like a migraine and a bad flu without the stomach stuff. Something isn’t right.” Max gave him a small shrug rubbing at his temple absentmindedly. “Maybe the taste for flesh comes later?” He joked. Sam didn’t find it funny though and just met his eyes with sad ones. The sounds of Dean’s vomiting echoed from the bathroom.

“I truly am sorry Max. Maybe we can find some way…” Sam left the sentence open trying to come up with a solution to keep his friend alive and well. The young Winchester got up and went to his bag on the floor near the bed, then went to their cooler and pulled out a beer. Handing Max a bottle of ibuprofen and a beer Sam sat back down.

“Sam, that’s nice of you to say and all but I’d rather you didn’t bull shit me. There is no way to keep me here without consequences and we both know it. Hell, Elliott knows it. That’s why she’s being stubborn and ignoring the problem to have a smoke. Like I said, I can feel something coming. I know I’m not here for good. No use denying it.” Max sighed sloshing a couple ibuprofen down with the beer.

“You want us to work this case, even though that means you’re at risk of dying?”

“Aren’t you listening to me?” Max narrowed his eyes tying not to get frustrated. “I am a risk right now. I may not be going all undead zombie on you but something is wrong. What’s dead should stay dead.” Max was looking down at his beer, completely missing Sam’s wince at his choice of words.

“But Ellie…”

“Ellie’s strong. She’ll pull through.” Max softly smiled, Pride filling his dark green eyes as they gazed toward the motel door. “She’s always been stronger than me.” Sam sighed wanting to tell him how broken she had been without him this last month.

“Max, she-”

“She’ll have you.” Max interrupted again. “I may not remember you but I’m not blind. I see how she is around you. Just promise me something?”

“Anything.” Sam promised quickly.

“If things go south like they seem to always do? If I’m no longer me, or something happens? You protect her. She is my sister and my responsibility but I need to know she will be okay without me if things go south.”

“Of course. You don’t need to ask.” Sam vowed not having to even think on it.

“We both will.” Dean promised weakly from the now open bathroom door. His pale face was covered in a sheen of sweat but his promise was strong.

Feeling assured Max thanked them before leaving to find his sister. It didn’t take him long to find her. The puffs of smoke from her cigarette giving her location away. Sitting on the cold concrete of the parking lot back leaning up against the sleek black classic car Elliott exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“Hey Bug.” Max whispered taking a seat on the pavement next to her. Her shoulders stiffened at hearing the nickname only her big brother ever called her. She didn’t think she’d ever hear it again. Yet here he was, alive and addressing her with the silly nickname unconsciously.  

“I don’t care if the wishes go bad. I won’t let you go bad.”

“Ellie, it’s a little too late for that. I can already feel it. I feel off. My head, my body? Somethings not right.” Max explained slowly, then smirked and elbowed her softly in the side. “You going to share or what?” He gestured to her cigarette.

Elliott gave a wet chuckle and dug through her leather jacket’s inner pocket. She held out the pack and he took one from the carton. He couldn’t help the way his smile widened when he looked at the Bugs Bunny lighter. He remembered when the lighter belonged to their dad. Well his dad, but Elliott didn’t need to know that he thought. With the cigarette between his lips he cupped the air around the end with one hand to keep the wind away as he lit up. There were a few moments of silence the cool November wind rustling the fall leaves.

“Please don’t leave me again.” Elliott squeaked hating how weak voice sounded. Max pulled her in a one armed hug placing a quick kiss on the crown of her head. He held her tight resting his cheek there. She could feel a wet drop land on her scalp, making her own eyes silently spill over.

“I am always with you Ellie. If you think the afterlife could stop me from being your big brother, you’re crazier than I thought.” Max playfully shoved his shoulder into hers after releasing his tight hold. He huffed and gave her a knowing smirk, no trace of the tears she had known escaped his eyes. She let out a wet laugh, harshly wiping a few tears away with her casted hand.

“How’d you manage that one klutz?” Max nodded at her casted left arm wanting to lighten his sister’s mood, but watched as the opposite happened. Bringing the cig to her lips she took a drag, eyes locked on her cast. Exhaling slowly a cloud of smoke trailed out before she found her voice.

“It was the werewolf that…” Elliott let the sentence drop not wanting to think about that night. “Honestly I could have taken it off this week but Sam somehow convinced me to wait an extra week.” She complained.

“Goodman.” Max smiled. His sister groaned and rolled her eyes but he could see her try to hide a smile. “What’s with the stupid flowers? Lose a bet or something?” He snickered running a finger over one of the girly looking flowers drawn onto the off white cast. The comment had sent a strange mix of emotions along Elliott’s face. Her eyes were bright yet sad and although the corner of her lips curled up he also saw her lower lip wobble.

“Payback actually.” She whispered with a sniffle.

“Okay… I feel like I keep saying the wrong things here. What did I say?”

“I missed you so much Max.” Elliott breathed giving her big brother a sad smile.

“I’m right here Ellie Bug.” He whispered back softly. “I’m right here.”

They talked for hours. About everything and nothing. Elliott didn’t know if Max being back was going to last and although she would fight tooth and nail against anything that threatened to take him away again, she soaked up every second she could with him. They sat there, smoking cigarettes till four in the morning. Only going inside when Sam popped his head out to check on them worried something might have happened.

There was a bit of awkwardness when they finally returned to the motel room. Max didn’t like that his little sister was planning on sleeping in the same bed with the giant Winchester he didn’t even remember. Dean had already passed out in the bathroom, not wanting to stray too far from the toilet. Because although Dean had stopped blowing chunks, he still wasn’t feeling great. Sam had dug through the tiny motel closet and found a pillow and a blanket, for his brother. That left only the two beds.

Sam could obviously feel the tension in the room. He knew it Max would prefer Elliott not share a bed with the tall hunter but he was afraid she would have one of her nightmares without him there. She had gotten much better in the last week but her nightmares were still was a common occurrence. After five minutes of whispered assurance that nothing was going to happen, they all settled down for the night. Sam and Elliott in one bed and Max in the other. Elliott, emotionally exhausted from the day passed out quickly, her giant wrapped around her from behind. She only was roused from her sleep once. Stirring at to cold her giant was no longer warming her back but when she heard his voice, she relaxed back into semi unconsciousness. The hushed rough voices of the Winchesters lulling her to sleep. In her sleepy state she wasn’t even able to make out words just voices. She thought she heard the words ‘nightmares’ and ‘Hell’ but she was asleep before she could process.

The next morning Elliott woke with a sharp inhale, clutching her head. Groaning out loud her brain felt like it was being stabbed. She hardly noticed how achy her muscles were with the jackhammering inside her head.

“Ellie? What’s wrong?” Sam asked the bed dipping as he sat on the edge. His fingers wrapped around her wrists moving them away from her face.

“I’m okay.” She spoke sleep still heavy in her voice. “Headache.”

“Headache? Baby this looks like more than a headache,” Sam’s eyes narrowed taking in her squinty eyes and scrunched forehead. He rubbed his thumb in small circles on her inner wrist. “If it was another nightmare, Ellie you can talk to me,”

“Nah, not that I can remember.” Elliott shrugged smoothing out her features to appear relaxed and gave him a small smile. “Probably just getting sick. Feeling a little low on energy. Nothing to worry about giant.”

Sam looked her over before getting up and grabbing the bottle of ibuprofen from where he had left it when he gave some to Max last night. Then went to the cooler to pull out a beer. “Sorry beer is all we got until Max and Dean get back from grabbing breakfast.”

Elliot tried to smile and downed four pills with the cold beer. “Alright, I’m going to get ready. A shower should help.”

After her shower she changed quickly before leaving the bathroom feeling no better than before. Now she almost felt dizzy as well. Great, Elliott thought. She hardly ever got sick, but it happens to everyone. Her best way to get over being sick was to just stop being sick. She stumbled on her way to the closest bed almost biffing it but catching herself on the wall.

“Elliott?” Sam was at her side the moment she caught herself on the wall, helping her to the bed.

“I’m fine, Jolly Green. Just tripped, klutzy me.” She lied with a chuckle.

He of course had to see right through it. Luckily for Elliott though Sam didn’t get a chance to call her out as Dean and Max entered the motel room. Their laughs and loud bantering made Elliott wince but she pushed it aside as best she could.

“Someone’s feeling better.” Elliott grinned up at the oldest Winchester. “Maybe the wishes don’t stay bad after all.” She pressed hopefully.

“Besides being exhausted I do feel better.” Dean admitted setting the grease stained paper bag down on the table. “-and I’m not the only one.” Dean’s smile widened as he turned to pat Max on the back.

“Weirdly, yeah. No more headaches! Or the flu like muscle aches.” Max huffed nonchalantly but Elliott could hear the hopefulness in his voice. Sam’s brows furrowed a moment his eyes darted from the blonde to her brother.

“Wait no headaches? It’s just gone?” Sam questioned slowly.

“Yeah. Woke up feeling more alive and energetic. Maybe this whole ‘wishes go bad’ thing won’t be as bad as we thought?” Max shrugged before sitting down at the table and digging into the paper bag to pull out a breakfast sandwich wrapped in tinfoil.

Elliott felt Sam’s eyes on her and turned quickly. Sam looked worried, more so than only a few moments ago. Max had a migraine and body aches yesterday, but now Elliott had a migraine and body aches. She could see in Sam’s eyes that he too saw the similarities. Right as he was about to voice this her hand griped his denim covered thigh in an almost painful grip.

“It’s probably just a coincidence Sam. Let it go.” Elliott breathed so quietly only her giant could hear. His jaw ticked as he gave her a pointed look, brow arching obviously disagreeing. “I promise I’ll let you know if it gets worse.” She vowed under her breath large hazel green eyes pleading. Sam exhaled slowly through his nose but said nothing, not happy at all.

“Hey, love birds. Stop your flirting and get ready, we have work to do.” Dean smirked at the two whispering.

Elliott huffed pretending to be annoyed with Dean but really her head hurt too much to really be bothered by the hunters taunting. She slowly got up fighting off a small dizzy spell she yawned while stretching to cover it up. Quickly finishing up her minor makeup and brushing her hair out not wanting to give Sam a chance to change his mind and blab. It was just a headache. She saw it as two different possibilities, one she had caught whatever bug Max had or two it was a mere coincidence.

A plan was formed by the time she was done. Max and Dean were going to close down the Chinese restaurant to stop any more well wishers. On their way they were going to drop Sam and Elliott off at the library. Where the couple would look for any possible wishes that had already came true. Elliott wanted to go with her brother after grieving his death for a month she wanted to spend as much time as she could with him, but apparently so did Dean. It was understandable they all had missed him, but she was a little disappointed to be stuck with research duty.

 “How you feeling?” Sam spoke up after at least twenty minutes of web searching. The dinosaur like computers making their task much more difficult than necessary.

“Much better.” Elliott lied her smile giving it away. Sam groaned annoyed at her stubborn behavior and ran hand through his shaggy brown hair.

“Don’t lie to me Ellie.”

“It’s just a headache Sam, don’t worry about it. Have you found anything?” She ignored his glare at the change of subject. Then once again she was saved by Dean, as Sam’s phone went off.

“Hey, got the place shut down for now,” Dean’s gruff voice informed them over the phone. Elliott listened in. The deserted library was quiet enough Sam didn’t even need to put it on speakerphone for her to hear. “Max and I drained the wishing well.” Elliott tensed not wanting them to mess with the well until they understood it. She didn’t want to chance Max getting hurt or worse.

“Looks like we found the source of all the wishing.” Max’s voice cut in. “An old coin. I’m sending Ellie a picture now. It’s stuck to the bottom of the well.”

“Like really stuck.” Dean added.

“I got it.” Elliott held her phone for Sam to see the picture of the coin. “Looks pretty old,”

“You geeks get on that. We’ll be back to pick you up soon.” Dean ordered. They could hear Max snickering in the background before they hung up.

“Let me see that?” Sam asked holding his hand out. She stood up from her seat and walked slowly over to hand her phone over. He eyed her suspiciously but held his tongue at the hunter’s slow movements. Soon his fingers were typing away on the ancient library computer.

Dean and Max were back in no time. Of course, by then Elliott had fallen asleep in her research pile at the library table. Sam hadn’t the heart to wake her when he knew she wasn’t feeling well. Max on the other hand looked great. He hadn’t thought Max even looked bad before but now his skin had a healthy glow, and his eyes were bright and lively.

“Someone has been having too much fun.” Max chuckled. “Snoozing on the job Ellie?” He ran a hand through her copper blonde hair and froze. Eyebrows furrowed he put the back of his hand to her forehead waking her up.

“Nughm-” Elliott grumbled sleepily and pushed his cold hand away. Her eyes peaked open and she wrinkled her forehead confused.  “What are you doing?”

“You’re burning up Ellie. Are you sick?” Max brought the back of his hand up to her forehead again looking over her pale face and squinty eyes.

“No, I think it’s worse.” Sam sighed before she could stop him, now very worried.

“Sam,” Elliott protested now fully awake. She wouldn’t admit to herself that her head was much worse and she felt dizzy just sitting there.

“No, Elliott. This is not just a headache and you know it. Something is happening and it’s not good.” Sam corrected. Max’s worry was written all over his face as the back of his hand moved along her cheek and forehead checking the temperature again.

“What the Hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean barked stepping up to the group eyes darting from his brother to a pale looking Elliott.

“I think Elliott has Max’s migraine from yesterday.” Sam hypothesized. “The better Max is looking the worse Elliott seems to be getting.”

“Were you trying to keep this from us?” Dean raised his tone a little too loud for the quiet library. Elliott exhaled slowly not denying it and batted her brother’s hand away from her forehead again.

“Dammnit Ellie! This has something to do with your wish going bad!” Max shouted gathering the old librarian’s stern eyes.

“I think we should take this back to the motel.” Dean mumbled eyes flicking to the grumpy old librarian.

All four of them gave the librarian an apologetic smile as they left. Sam helping escort Elliott an arm slung around her waist. With her balance off she had to lean on him a bit more than she cared to admit. They piled into the Impala Sam and Dean in their regular seats while Max and Elliott took the back.

“So what? Is the wish making her sick? What the hell is going on?” Dean questioned anger directed at both Sam and Elliott but his eyes stayed on the road.

“We can’t know for sure, but I think I’ve got a theory now.” Sam sighed his hazel eyes full of worry. “We can see that the better Max is getting the worse Ellie is, right? Like the wish is possibly transfer her life for his? Like her powers do.” Everyone but Elliott was stunned into silence.

“What? That’s insane! You have no proof. Just because I have his headache and stuff doesn’t mean-”

“How do we stop this?” Max demanded over his sister’s denial.

“Max, no-”

“Shut up Ellie!” Max snapped turning his panicked eyes to Sam for answers.

“We need to get the person who made the first wish in the well to take the coin back. According to my research it will reverse all the wishes.”

“No!” Elliott shouted. A bout of dizziness hit her and she threw her hand into her hands to try and center her perception. Elliott felt her brother’s hand on her shoulder to gather her attention.

“I’m not letting you die because of me Ellie. This is my decision, not yours and not theirs.” Max gestured to the Winchesters in the front seats. “I’m not even supposed to be here Bug.” He reasoned but she was shaking her head as a couple tears fell from her pleading eyes.

“How do we find this person to take out the coin?” Max turned away from his sister to ask the now quiet Winchesters.

“We need to find the first wish.” Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. His sad eyes now glued to the road not wanting to look into the rearview mirror to see Elliott in anguish or Max’s stony expression seemingly accepting his own fate.

“Well I searched for local news, anything too good to be true or strange, I found a couple options. There was a bigfoot sighting a few days ago which is more probable but the earliest possibility is a recent engagement after the couple was only together a week.” Sam concluded warily.

“No!!” She shouted again. “I said no damnit!”

“I’m so sorry Ellie.” Max apologized with a sad but determined voice.

“This isn’t up to you Sweetheart.” Dean added. His gruff tone a little deeper than normal to help cover up his sorrow. Then began to pull over to the side of the road, needing a game plan so he could drive in the right direction.

“I can’t lose you again. You can’t just- just- Max what about you? Your life? You can’t just give up,” Elliott’s voice broke as she continued to ramble. “…not for me.” Max wrapped his arm around her hugging her to his side for a few silent minutes.

“That’s what big brothers are for.” He whispered in her ear. Then Max looked up at Sam and Dean releasing a shaky breath trying to silently communicate with his eyes and gave them a strong nod.

She could see that Max had something shinny in his hands but before she knew what was happening, he lunged at her. In her weakened state she wasn’t even able to fight back and within a blink of an eye her good wrist that wasn’t in a cast was handcuffed to the door handle. Max leaned back expecting his sister to lash out at him but she froze in shock. Elliott’s eyes were as round as saucers and she pulled at the cuff.

“Max!” Elliott squeaked in shock and horror.

“I know you Ellie. You won’t let me do what I need to. This is the only way to keep you from stopping me.” Max explained apologetically.

“No, no, no, no. Max no! Don’t do this! No.” She sputtered and yanked at the cuff. “Sam, Dean, please! -please don’t let him do this.” Elliott croaked out making Sam cringe and turn away.

“Max, you do know what this means…” The older Winchester turned to him avoiding Elliott’s pleading eyes.

“I know.” Max gave him a sad smile. Dean gave him a nod promising to save Elliott even at the great cost of losing his friend and her brother. Then started the Impala back up and drove towards the engaged couples place with the directions Sam was giving him. Elliott shrieked furiously yanking at the cuff wildly.

��Hey, hey!” Dean shouted. “Someone calm her down before she brakes Baby!”

“Dean!” Sam glared at his brother’s choice of words as Max moved quick to help. He grabbed her shoulders again too easily pinning her back against the seat. Her attempts to push him off far too weak to have any effect.

“Hey. Look at me.” Max demanded slowing her struggles. “This could be our last chance to say goodbye. Do you really want to ruin that by acting like a brat?”

That stopped her completely. Her head hung bowed in shame as she tried to sniff back tears that just couldn’t stop from falling. “I’m sorry.” She breathed in the silent car. The cuff rattled and halted her attempt to wipe away the tears on her cheek. Sighing when she couldn’t use her cuffed right hand. Then used her free hand covered in the girly flowered cast. Clumsily wiping her wet cheeks.

“Ellie. How lucky are we to get a second chance to say goodbye, hmm?” Max spoke softly pushing her coppery blonde hair out of her face to look her in the eye. “I know this is hard for you Ellie Bug, but you are so strong. If anyone can get through this it’s you.”

“I can’t.” Elliott whispered. “I can’t, I need my brother. I need you.”

“No, you don’t. Not anymore. Ellie you’ve still got family here. That clown in the front seat?” Max nodded to Dean as he drove. “He might joke around but you said it yourself, he’s family.” Elliott sniffled her wet eyes dared to meet Dean’s in the rearview mirror before looking back to Max. “And even though it’s weird you have Sam. I’ve never seen you click like this with anyone before. I don’t know if I really understand it but I can see it. There is something different about you with him. You have family, besides there is no way you can truly get rid of me I’ll always be with you Bug.” Both Sam and Dean stayed quiet letting them have their goodbye.

“Max but it’s my fault you- If I wasn’t so slow, I could have-” Elliott choked.

“No, no, no. That’s the job Ellie. We both know it. No one gets out of the life. If I hear you are blaming yourself for me? You’re going to be in for a major ass kicking in the afterlife.” Max threatened making Elliott let out a wet chuckle.

The car slowed down to a residential house and she felt her heart speed up. Max looked up at Sam and Dean before giving Elliott a sad smile. “We’ll be right back.”

Elliott sat there handcuffed to the door handle trying to process. This was it and she knew it. Now that she wasn’t fighting back her adrenaline began to fade. She could feel a cloud roll over her mind, fogging her brain and her muscles ached feeling weaker than before. She hated it but Sam was right, she was getting worse. When the men returned, they were leading a scrawny shorter man with thick glasses to the car. Max sat in the middle of the back seat pulling the man in next to him. Dean slammed his door shut and started the Impala and took off towards the restaurant.

“Is she okay?” The scrawny guy eyed Elliott sitting on the other side of Max. She shivered at the cool air but didn’t seem to be able to stop the cold seeping into her warm skin.

“Ellie?” Max fretted grabbing her shoulders again to steer her attention to him, Elliott felt her eyes start to droop her head rolled a little with Max’s movement.

“Mm finn.” She slurred blinking slowly trying to fight the clouding dizziness.  

“Shit.” Sam’s curse had her inhale sharply as she tried even harder to clear the fog. “Dean hurry!” The Impala speed up making her head lull back.

“Ellie, it’s going to be okay. I’m going to make this right.” Max soothed but his terrified tone was not hidden well, and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to make this right.

“What’s wrong with her?” Then man on the other side of Max pitched.

“Her wish is going bad, asshat.” Dean barked at the pathetic man. “If you don’t pull that coin out and reverse all this, she’s going to die!”

The man’s eyes widened so much it looked like they would pop out of his thick glasses. Elliott in her delirious state started to laugh at the cartoon like man.

“Ellie?! You okay back there?” Sam’s concern was turning to panic as he watched the delirious hunter continue to laugh from the front seat. Her laughter subsided when she got a look out the window as the Impala slowed.

“Whoa… Ssss thha real?” Elliott slurred as they pulled up to the Chinese restaurant. Everyone turned to see what she was mumbling about. A kid had just flipped an SUV over with his bare hands.

“Yeah that’s real sweetheart.” Dean mumbled back baffled at the scene before them. He then jumped out of the Impala turning back to Sam. “I’ll handle super kid. You two get Wes to the well.” He ordered but turned to Max with a meaningful yet stern gaze. “See you on the other side Max.” Then gave Elliott one last look ordering them to hurry, but it was Elliott’s whimper spurred Max and Sam on. Max turned to his little sister stirring her from her foggy brain.

“This is it Bug.” He kissed her on the top of her too head that was too warm for comfort. “You be safe. Don’t want to see you up there for a long time. You hear me?”

“Max...” She slurred but her wet cheeks let him know she understood what was happening. Before she was ready Max was out of the car with Sam and the other man.

From her view Elliott could watched them bicker through the back window. The scrawny man seemed to like he wasn’t cooperating. Then she couldn’t believe her eyes.

Sam started seizing while lightning sizzled around him. He was being struck by lightning! The next thing she saw Sam had collapsed to the pavement his shoes a few feet away from him smoking. Elliott started to shriek hysterically pulling on the locked door handle. Frantically trying to get to him. She was expecting to lose her brother she couldn’t lose her giant too. No this couldn’t be happening, this wasn’t the plan she panicked franticly.

Max had a moment of stunned horror before he was able to shout back to his sister. She couldn’t understand him and continued her weak struggles that were draining what little energy she had left. Max shoved the smaller man into the restaurant. Elliott’s movement slowed as exhaustion pulled her down. Her head lulled back as her arms went numb at her sides weak from exertion. A whine escaped her throat when she could no longer move her limbs, now weighed down like led. She could feel her breath become shallow and her vision was blurring at the edges. Her eyes began drooping, and it was becoming difficult to keep them open.

It was instant. She knew exactly when it happened, when the coin was pulled from the well reversing all of the wishes. Her fever was gone, no longer shaking and her head was completely clear of pain and fog. The only thing that stayed was the exhaustion. She laid back breathing evenly. Sam was suddenly ripping open the backdoor to get to her. The moment she saw him a sob of relief left her throat too tired to hold it back.

He crawled in the back seat hands cupping the sides of her face. “Ellie, baby, are you okay?” She nodded pulling him in close and hugged him as tightly as she could.

“I thought you were dead.” Elliott sputtered breath shaky. “I thought you were-”

“I’m right here. I’m okay.” He reassured her. “How’s your head? Your fever seems to be gone.” He removed the back of his hand from her head.

“No headache. Honestly.” She sniffed. “Just really tired.”

Sam nodded shoulders sagging in relief. Then undid her cuff to hold her better. “Just relax, I got you Ellie.” Weakly she moved to rest her head on his chest. The thumping of his heartbeat in her ear and the feel of his warm hand stroking her hair eased her worry.

“Is it over? Is she okay?” Dean panted through the open door. Sam just gave him a sad nod. Knowing that the price was Max was now gone. As much as he would miss Max again, he was selfishly happy that Elliott was alive right now. “How you feeling Princess?”

“I just want to sleep.” Elliott mumbled quietly, not wanting to think about what It meant that she was feeling better.

“That’s alright baby, got to sleep I got you.” Sam soothed again as Dean stared up the Impala driving off.

Just like the night before Sam’s absence was what woke her. With the Impala’s windows cracked Elliott could hear the Winchester’s conversation as they stood only a few feet from the car. She automatically felt guilty. This whole time she had been worried about losing her brother while Dean had been struggling with his memories of Hell. When the men got back in, she pretended she was woken up by the doors creaking. She didn’t think Dean would want her to know what she heard so she didn’t say anything.

Sam apologized for waking her before surprisingly sliding back into the backseat with her rather than take shotgun. He stretched out a long leg against the back of the seats and pulled her onto him, murmuring for her to go back to sleep. It didn’t take long before she crashed again. The sound of Sam’s heartbeat under her ear lulled her to sleep assuring her that her giant was with her.

  Authors Note:

 Okay, Okay, I know super angsty, but I felt Max deserved a real goodbye. This was one of my favorite chapters to write so far. Hope whoever reads this enjoyed it as well. I want to thank ANYONE who has continued to read so far. I am deeply honored. If you like what you are reading please like and I would be over the hill to get any comments. It would be an awesome early birthday present lol. Thank you again for reading!

 This Corona virus thing is insane! If things continue like this I might be posting a lot more.

[gossipgirl2019-blog]

Still Like… Wo: After 20 Years, Mya Has Learned to Live Without Fear

New Post has been published on http://gr8gossip.xyz/still-like-wo-after-20-years-mya-has-learned-to-live-without-fear/

Still Like… Wo: After 20 Years, Mya Has Learned to Live Without Fear

The late ‘90s/early ‘00s is a revered era in music for so many fans under 30. It’s not hard to understand why: it’s a period when pop artists took over the airwaves after a decade that had been mostly dominated by grunge, gangsta rap, adult contemporary and nu metal. Britney Spears, Destiny’s Child, Aaliyah, *NSYNC, J. Lo and a host of others recalibrated popular music in a way that set the table for pretty much everything we see dominating the charts today.

And Mya was right there at the forefront. The leggy R&B chanteuse with the coy-but-sexy persona and serious dance moves had already been somewhat famous as a dancer on BET when she was still in high school. She’d performed with Gregory Hines and studied with Savion Glover, was classically trained in tap and ballet, and her early videos made it clear that she knew how to cut a rug. Mya burst through back in 1998 at the age of 18, and, with her impeccable dance skills and sultry voice, was put in a similar vein as established artists like Aaliyah and Janet Jackson. Her self-titled debut was a platinum-seller that spawned hits like “It’s All About Me” and “Movin’ On” and thrust her into the swarm of pop stardom. She followed it with the hit “Take Me There,” a collaboration with Blackstreet and Ma$e that hit the Top 20, and another hit guest appearance on the Pras single “Ghetto Superstar” with Ol’ Dirty Bastard.

But the onetime girl-next-door has been a grown-ass woman for a while now. Her latest album TKO (The Knockout) dropped this spring and she just released her newest video for the sexy single “Damage.” Mya was never shy about flaunting her sex appeal, but she admits that it comes from a different place these days. 

“Well—now I mean it!” the 38-year-old says with a laugh. “It comes from a real place versus some songwriter writing it for me and me delivering it from no experience. Now I own it. I own everything that’s me and that’s one dimension of who I am and who all women are, y’know? One dimension. And I know it’s often suppressed and looked down upon. That’s the difference between then and now. I was just a young girl fresh out of high school, but life experience and yearning and desire and being very clear in expressing how you feel—even that takes time.”

And its apparent that for Mya, taking her time is important in everything that she does—but especially as it pertains to self-expression: “You have to take a leap of faith before exposing yourself completely in terms of feelings and desires—especially if you’re a woman.”  

“Now you have a different type of sexualization where its desensitization, because of the internet and kids growing up faster because of technology. Music dictates culture and culture dictates music, they go hand-in-hand. Now you have no shock.”

Many of the R&B superstars of the ‘90s were very young at the time, and after the “Jodeci-fication” of R&B circa ‘92/‘93, a singer had to have some edginess to thrive in the era of body rolls and shirtless album covers. Stars like Usher, Aaliyah and later on, Mya may have been teens—but they sang about some undeniably “adult” fare. But Mya doesn’t view her early career or that era as oversexed—at least not by comparison.

“It was very grown and in-your-face, but the music balanced out and countered some [of the] lyrics that were very ‘adult,’” Mya says. “I think now it’s oversexualized, but then, there was some mystery—and clever writing. It was suggestive but not over-the-top. I think because of hip-hop, oftentimes you’re rebellious and very outspoken and that becomes a part of the culture. Outside of lyrics and music, it’s an attitude. Music is influenced by that and that carried over into R&B. Young people relate to things that are more rebellious and it’s much more interesting. Now you have a different type of sexualization where its desensitization, because of the internet and kids growing up faster because of technology. Music dictates culture and culture dictates music, they go hand-in-hand. Now you have no shock.”

As her career exploded, she joined Pink, Lil Kim, and Christina Aguilera for their era-defining cover of “Lady Marmalade” in 2001, appeared in the Oscar-winning Chicago and other films like Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights and Cursed. Her sophomore album Fear Of Flying was another commercial success, and it continued her run of hit singles: “Case Of the Ex” shot all the way to No. 2 on the Billboard Hot 200. 2003’s Moodring would be her most critically-acclaimed release up to that point, showcasing a maturing singer and featuring collaborations with Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, Missy Elliott, and Timbaland. The Elliott-produced “My Love Is Like…Wo” would be another Top 20 hit for Mya.

She signed with Ford Modeling in 2005 and it seemed like music was going to take a backseat to her diverse interests outside of recording and performing onstage. She was urged to date superstars for publicity and refused, but that didn’t stop the rumor mill from fixating on gossip. She wound up in a feud with rapper 50 Cent after he claimed they’d had sex in a 2005 diss track aimed at his longtime rival, The Game.

“Yes, it’s not true. 50 and I never dated, never cuddled, never did anything, period, despite what he chooses to believe in his own mind. I don’t know how he would get Lloyd Banks confused with me,” Mya told VIBE in 2006.

The rumors didn’t stop there, Mya had to address more gossip in 2009 after rumors surfaced that she was dating Gucci Mane. “No diss, but the way people turn things around—I’d taken a photo with him at a club and I went to say bye,” she told DJ Whoo Kid at the time. “My manager was present and I went to say bye to Gucci and I said something in his ear but I had to get closer because the club music was so loud, they caught me in the wrong pose looking like we had just finished kissing or that we were kissing. The photograph was not big enough for you to see the real deal. And the rumor started that Mya was dating Gucci Mane which is so not true.”

The chatter kept her name plastered across gossip sites. Now that kind of din is even louder because of social media, and Mya’s advice to young women navigating the murky waters of pop stardom and internet gossip is to commit themselves to “conditioning yourself for this world.”

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“There’s a double standard and women are punished more for accusations,” she says. “Get your mind right, get your spirit right and get your body right. And keep it there. That requires working out, that requires fasting, eating well, prayer and getting to know who you are. And not bending. You’re going to have to put yourself through disciplinarian challenges so that you can understand that you can be without anything that you were taught that you need. People will always have an opinion. Even if you’re over here saving the world, there is a group of people that will love you and a group of people that will always hate you no matter what you do.”

“It’s tricky on the internet,” she acknowledges. “There’s a lot of bullying. The way I [manage] is I do crazy stuff [laughs]. Work hard at the gym, remove stuff frmo my diet and lifestyle. Jump out of an airplane! Whatever it takes, so that there’s no fear attached to me. If you’re worried about people liking you, you’re in the wrong business. Life without fear.”

As the 2000s progressed, other names like Ashanti and Ciara had emerged as major stars, while Beyoncé broke from Destiny’s Child and became one of the biggest artists in music. Mya signed with Universal Motown for 2007’s Liberation but would opt out of her contract only a year later, dissatisfied with the label and determined to control her own music. 2008’s Sugar & Spice would be released in Japan, as would the follow-up, 2011’s KISS (Keep It Sexy & Simple). She independently released three EPs in 2014 and 2015 and released Smoove Jones exclusively via Apple in 2016, which would go on to garner a Grammy nomination for Best R&B Album in 2017. With this year’s release of TKO (The Knockout), it’s clear that Mya’s Planet 9 label (which she founded in 2008 after leaving Universal Motown) gave her autonomy that she has clearly relished. She isn’t against major labels at all, but she’s committed to partnering on her own terms.

“I’ve always wanted to make sure that I have a body of work to present to my fans before I go back into a system that only wants radio music,” she explains, “so that I can always leave the art available just in case another album gets leaked or I get into a contract and get held hostage [laughs]. Because it is a great marriage if its right and if you’re a priority.”

That freedom has served her well. In her late 30s, Mya is healthy and happy and navigating her career her way. She promotes healthy eating and veganism on her Instagram account. She joined the cast of streaming Urban Movie Channel’s drama series 5th Ward playing a single mother of two. She admits the role is outside of her comfort zone but she was eager to tell stories that reflect real issues: “From gun violence to gentrification to young men fearing for their lives and coming of age with those factors, single mothers trying to make ends meet…it’s the human experience. It was a meatier role for me that I felt I was ready for. At my age, being an independent artist and caretaker of my family, I relate to those stresses.”

Mya’s a trailblazer for artists like Kehlani and Tinashe, and a veteran who is still standing in an industry that constantly shows how tough it can be on ambitious young women. She talked to Essence earlier this year about #MeToo. “Understand that you are going to have to address several things navigating through the world as it pertains to men who have been conditioned to think that they are superior, which I don’t believe in the natural world that is the case,” she said.

“There’s a balance of feminine and masculine energy,” she continued. “Unfortunately, it’s an imbalanced world because of the people that are in charge, and that’s egotistical men…Understand that you can create your own door (and) your own company and it will be harder, but ultimately you, at the end of the day, decide what you walk away from and what you’re willing to deal with.”

It’s clear that 20 years after she broke big, Mya is more assured than ever and as artistically engaged as she’s ever been. Her legacy is one that warrants celebrating. She’s not a tragic figure, and she’s not an omnipresent megastar. And that’s why we should talk about her more: she’s done this thing about as gracefully as anyone without compromising herself and without resorting to shock tactics or social media drama or silly stunts to “stay relevant.” She’s still Mya. And that’s all we’ve ever needed her to be. 

[studioimart]

Muslims & Conservative Joe

Having a nice conversation with a guy about nationalism vs respect, which turned into a conversation about indoctrination and Islam, but we left on good terms. You know, like actual mature adults.  Then Joe showed up. He wasn’t a mature adult. 

I unfortunately do not have his side of the conversation, because they have been since deleted. I don’t know if Joe did it, or if my friend did (my comments were intact), but I thought I would share my side for posterity (also so I don’t have to look up the links again later).  ----- Oooh, Joe, just remember that you decided to engage me as you read through the novella I'm about to write... just for you. :-)

1. It's spelled 'pity'. Or did you mean to call me an endearing term for pitbull? Cos I'll take that, too. :-) 2. "The statistic shows the number of mass shootings in the United States between 1982 and 2017, by race and ethnicity of the shooter(s). Between 1982 and July 2017, 50 out of 90 mass shootings were initiated by White shooters." (source: https://www.statista.com/.../mass-shootings-in-the-us-by.../) If you need more information, you should read this: https://www.splcenter.org/.../2016/year-hate-and-extremism I'm not just about rhetoric. I like actual facts and statistics to back them up, but let me continue: 3. Christians wouldn't say, "Death to Americans! In the name of Allah!", -- hello, they don't call God, Allah -- but they sure as shit say death to their fellow Americans as a right under their God. Ask any white supremacy group on our soil if they'd like to kill us non-white, non-Christian folk. Or better yet, just read their propaganda. Ooh, or the winning Louisiana Rep. Clay Higgins who said, "Hunt them, identity [sic] them, and kill them. Kill them all. For the sake of all that is good and righteous. Kill them all.” He didn't say report possible radicalized Muslims. Nope, he just said kill them to save all of Christendom. If you want to read the whole thing, go here: https://www.facebook.com/captclayhiggins/photos/a.655256107910738.1073741829.581436541959362/997878010315211/?type=3&theater I'm not even including all the lone wolf acts of terror against innocent Americans done in the past five years. I can, however, if you're unable to Google them for yourself. 4. I'm glad you haven't bought into the "9/11 was an inside job" conspiracy theory! Good for you! You're absolutely right that no Christian has ever flown a plane into a building though. No, they'd rather blow up federal buildings with children in them You know, Timothy McVeigh (Source: https://www.biography.com/people/timothy-mcveigh-507562) Oh, or more recently, "Robert Doggart, 63, allegedly planned to burn a mosque, as well as a school and a cafeteria in the community. Investigators said he sought others to join the plan through Facebook posts and in telephone conversations." (Source: http://www.cbsnews.com/.../ex-tennessee-congressional.../) So please, don't tell me that Christians don't do acts of violence in this country. Just because mainstream media makes them out to be poor unfortunate boys doesn't mean they're not terrorists. 5. As for the things foreign armies do to American Servicemembers, I will remind you that we're not innocent in atrocities against citizens of warring nations either. It doesn't make what they did right, but let's not pretend that we do not have bad eggs in our Armed Services who do bad things. We routinely (sadly) have incidents of rape and murder wherever we are abroad. It's a small minority of the military, yes, but these incidents still happen, but we do not condemn the whole Department of Defense as evil (well, not for this ;-) ). And just remember, in case you missed that conversation and only focused on the one piece I wrote about Muslims, I am a veteran from a long line of veterans. So... I realize I gave you a lot to read. It's okay. I'm patient. Let me know what you think. I mean, like seriously, with cited sources. Maybe charts. I like charts. And you can't use Fox News or Breitbart as sources. Cos, um, yeah, I didn't use a single liberal-leaning source on purpose. :-) I look forward to your educated response. :-) Wait, TL:DR? In a nutshell, there are 1.6 billion Muslims in the world. There are about 100,000 fighters for ISIS. If you do the math (it's okay, I'll do it, Asian math nerd and all), that's 0.0001% of the population being bad terrorists. Conversely, there are 2.2 billion Christians in the world. There are roughly 8,000 active KKK members, 18.2 million people were Nazi/Nazi supporters (35% of Germans during the height of Nazi Germany), 3000 people at the height of the Lord's Resistance Army. I'll stop there, bc otherwise, it looks really bad for Christians globally. That math equals 0.008% of the Christian population doing bad things in the name of God. That is a higher percentage. So why is it okay to blanket label the whole of Islam by their minority, but not Christianity with theirs? Oh, I'm sure you could say that they're not real Christians (but neither is being a judgmental person), but if you ask any American Muslim, those terrorists aren’t good Muslims either. Jesus said love thy neighbor. Without caveat. 

Try really hard next time to remember that. ----- He responded by calling me a ‘liberal type’ and said that he could use Google, too. Except he half-ass linked a Time Magazine article about the fallacy of the FBI’s shooter list. 

Except, of course, that I hadn’t used that list for the stats

Oh, and he called all my cited sources ‘Fake news’ and ‘fake media’. Um, no.  ----- Actually, I was born overseas in South Korea to an American dad. I hate to break it to you, but I'm an actual American, too. However, two things:

1) It doesn't matter if I'm American or not. My points still stand. Just because you're a stubborn man doesn't change that, and 2) I didn't use the FBI Mass Shooting Report in my response to you, because I know there were issues with it? Cos I read things. Also, I use punctuation, but eh, not everyone can be expected to do that. Dear Joe, this will be my last missive to you, simply because, unlike Paul, you're not actually interested in a conversation. You just want to be right, and given that I, a poor liberal type, am not likely to do anything but give you facts and data that prove otherwise, I am content with letting you have bragging rights to say you sure showed another liberal. *slow golf clap* Whew! You're full of win. Have a wonderful day. :-) ---- Yesterday I felt like we were making progress in this country. 

Today I feel like I was just lying to myself.