#like unless there’s a statistic saying that they are the most hated national team then im not understanding the reasoning for the questions

[blkwag]

whether or not people have a reason to not like argentina, the fans are still going to be upset. whatever reason someone has (ex: they don’t like x player, the racism from their fans, the country’s history, etc.) it’s going to trigger their fans. whether someone just simply doesn’t like the team, that’s an issue too. and then the fans wonder why people don’t like the team or them (the fans) like you guys get triggered regardless

and then (on this hellsite), you jump into people’s inbox (anonymously btw) and write a thesis to someone who doesn’t like the team or the “dios” of the team. just leave people alone

[the-irish-mayhem]

Toph and Aang need Fire Lady Katara to advise on a bloodbending case in Republic City. Or: The Yakone vs. Katara bloodbending battle that we were owed.

This was originally going to go up for @zutaramonth Day 11: Secret, but it also works a bit for today’s prompt, which is Sacrifice.

Read on AO3.

The Scarlet Tree

128 AG Year of the Rat Republic City

“It’s a beautiful theory, Aang, but we’re not going to be able to convince people of any of it,” Toph says, voice soft, cognizant of the two children sleeping down the hall. “Yakone’s been weaseling out of charges for years. We can’t do this again unless it’s airtight.”

Their kitchen is dimly lit by a lamp in the center of the table, and a Republic City Police file is spread out across the surface. Aang is seated on one end, fingers idly toying with a witness statement taken a few months prior, while his wife paces like a caged animal at the opposite end.

“We already have ten willing witnesses,” Aang replies, matching her quiet tone, “and I’m willing to bet we can find more. A lot more.”

“Look, I hear you, I do, but I can also hear what his defense attorney is going to say--bloodbending is extremely rare, and Yakone has airtight alibis during full moons,” Toph says.

“Just because it’s never been done before doesn’t mean it isn’t possible,” Aang says. “You of all people should know that.”

Toph’s expression twists, and she stops pacing. For all her tense mannerisms, she looks surprisingly calm, if in a sour mood. The soft slope of her nose and the defiance in her jaw are highlighted by the dim firelight, and he wishes he could tell her that she’s beautiful, but he suspects that wouldn’t get him very far this evening. (Not that that particular compliment gets him very far often, but what kind of husband would he be if he never said it at all?)

“It seems unfair that something so awful might have no limits,” she finally says.

Aang sighs. He certainly doesn’t disagree. “It takes a prodigal waterbender to be able to do it in the first place. It’s not like we’ve met an abundance of benders with the ability.”

“Speaking of prodigal waterbenders, maybe we ask Katara about it,” she asks. She rests her fists on the table, knuckles pressed to the papers. “She probably has a better idea on how to handle this than we do.”

“Do I hear… a trip to visit the Fire Nation?” Aang asks with a growing look of delight on his face.

Toph smiles at the suggestion. “It’s been a while since we paid Sugar Queen and Sparky a visit. I’m sure Tenzin and Lin would love to see their cousins.”

Aang replies, “I can arrange for an airship. Next week sound okay to you?”

“Why not take Appa for old times’ sake?”

“If you’d like to be stuck on an air bison with an eight and a nine year old all the way to the Fire Nation…”

Toph pales. “Yeah, an airship is probably a better option; although, you might be able to convince Tenzin to meditate all the way there.”

A beat of silence passes, and though she can’t see him, Aang is grinning like an idiot at her.

“What?” she asks.

“The domineering Toph Beifong, so easily convinced to take time off? Who are you and what have you done with my wife?”

She smirks right back. “We’re doing this so we can finally arrest Yakone, not take leisurely strolls on beaches.”

“Oh, I think I can convince you to take at least one stroll.”

“Keep me out of the sand, and I might consider it, Twinkletoes.”

Aang groans. “Is there going to be a certain anniversary we hit when I can finally get rid of that nickname?”

“You always ask, and my answer is always the same.”

He shakes his head, fondness tightening his chest. “Here, I’ll clean this up,” he says, scraping the files into a pile. She’d brought them home for his benefit, after all. “You’ve had a long day. Head up to bed, and I’ll see you there.”

Toph chuckles. “ I’m the master here.” She doesn’t give any other protest, kisses his cheek, and plods down the hallway to their bedroom.

Aang finishes up in the kitchen, and quickly checks on Tenzin and Lin, both sleeping soundly, and heads to bed himself.

***

It’s just past midday, and the sun is high in the sky on a cloudless, hot day in the Fire Nation. The capital city is abuzz with life--benders and non-benders alike seek out merchants and street vendors, construction crews break in shaded areas and guzzle water brought in by ostrich horse-drawn carts, tea shop owners hawk their custom blends across busy streets, school children are released for the day, and the city itself seems alive, pulsing and breathing like any one of its citizens.

In the Caldera, Fire Lady Katara looks out over the city from a balcony of the palace. Even after nearly 25 years of living here, she still doesn’t care for how the mouth of the ancient volcano holds them separate from the outlying city districts. Despite the expansion of the city and various programs she and Zuko had created targeting class stratification, it still feels far too guarded. Considering that the Caldera is mostly just residences of those able to afford the outrageous prices (a group that, historically, has not been Katara’s biggest fan), it doesn’t really hold the same place in Katara’s heart that the city at large does.

“What are you thinking about?”

Katara looks over her shoulder to find her husband approaching. He looks every inch an intimidating Fire Lord, what with the spiked epaulettes on the elaborate robes and the traditional headpiece tucked into his topknot, but the dorky grin he’s got on is purely Zuko and purely for her.

It makes her grin back, and she looks back out over the city as he comes to stand next to her.

“I’m trying to judge how much the Council would hate me if I suggested demolishing the volcano.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Well, significantly more than when you wanted to build the first publicly funded school, but probably less than when you suggested decriminalizing prostitution.”

“What I’m hearing are a bunch of fights that I did win, so…”

“How about this: we wait until the day before we abdicate, then do it, and let Izumi deal with the fallout.”

Katara laughs. “She’s a peacekeeper at heart, so there might be some merit there.” She leans into his side and he puts an arm around her in response. “Are the kids done with their lessons?” she asks.

“Yes, they just finished. They’re excited to see Tenzin and Lin. Or,” he amends, “Kya is excited to see them. I can’t really tell if Kyokani remembers them, or if he’s just feeding off of Kya’s excitement. And Iroh is exactly how I was at sixteen.”

Katara rolls her eyes. “Evil and angsty?”

“I did not think anyone could out-angst me, but our son has done it.”

Katara scoffs. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Zuko smiles wistfully. “I wish Suki and Sokka could be here too. It feels like it’s been so long since we’ve properly gotten everyone together.”

“Spirits, it must have been at least a Council or two ago.” She sighs deeply. “Remember when we were hiding out on Ember Island when we were kids? It was only a few days before Sozin’s Comet, but we were…” She sighs again. “I don’t ever want to go to war again, but sometimes I really, really miss those days. Us, all together.”

“Me too,” he agrees. “It was so much simpler in a lot of ways, too. Teach Aang bending. Beat the Fire Lord. Win the war.”

Katara hums in agreement. “Before we had to worry about things like securing funding for social welfare programs and economic development variables and social statistics surveys.”

“Hey, I didn’t have much of a choice, but you voluntarily signed up for all of that when you married me.”

She grins. “I suppose so. It was a good deal, if you ask me,” she says before leaning over to kiss his cheek. He turns his head so he catches her lips with his. 21 years of marriage and four children later, their kisses don’t always render her weak in the knees like they used to. Rather, it’s bracing, reassuring, a small reminder in a day of distractions that they are not alone.

She pulls back with a sigh and stares out across the Caldera once more.

Their conversation trails into light political discussion, as many of their conversations are wont to do during their working hours. The funding for the hospital on Hing Wa Island that would complete a ten year project to bring publicly-funded medical care to every island had finally ground its way through the political process. The completion of the Hing Wa Hospital would kick off the next phase of Katara’s plan to expand the existing hospital system in the Earth Kingdom, and hopefully her careful planning in coordination with the Northern and Southern Water Tribes would mean that there would be at least one healer in most of the major regions. (“Oh!” she exclaims, “It will coincide perfectly with the end of her semester, so Izumi might be able to join me.”)

There is also, of course, the United Republic of Nations, which is an ever-growing and changing responsibility for them. Zuko and Katara are the only ones currently not living there of the original Team Avatar, so their involvement hasn’t been as hands-on in the last few years. It’s not strange for Aang and Toph to want them to advise on something, but it is slightly out-of-the-ordinary for them to not share what that something is in a letter.

They don’t have to wonder about it for very long.

“Your Majesties,” one of their messengers says, and they turn to face him. “Apologies for disturbing you.”

“It’s no worry, Xi,” Zuko says. “What is it?”

“Avatar Aang and Chief Beifong have arrived from Republic City.”

***

On a balcony overlooking one of the courtyards where their children play together (and the young Iroh sits grumpily off to the side), the old friends catch up over steaming cups of tea.

(Tenzin’s airbending is progressing quickly, and Lin still can’t metal bend.)

(Izumi likes studying in Ba Sing Se, Iroh strives for new levels of teen angst every day, Kya healed her first papercut last week, and Kyokani hasn’t bent anything just yet.)

Katara had asked eagerly after her brother and his wife and kids.

(Sokka is tackling the challenges of being on Republic City’s Council like he does everything in life--cleverly and without reservation. Suki’s expansion of the Kyoshi Warriors past their ancestral borders has been hitting a few snags. Luna and Ukira have recently begun their training to become Kyoshi Warriors, like their mother before them.)

But alas, the subject at hand raises its nasty head much sooner than they would’ve liked.

“Yakone,” Zuko growls when Toph and Aang share their reason for visiting. “That perpetual thorn in our sides is still alive?”

“Unfortunately,” Toph replies.

“So what’s he done this time?” Katara asks. “Please tell me it’s something you guys can actually convict him on.”

Aang winces. “That’s… where things get complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Zuko asks.

Aang scratches the back of his neck. “Well…”

Toph swings into it with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, “We think Yakone is a bloodbender.”

They can hear the shouts of their children below in the courtyard, the sounds of joy discordant with the tone their conversation has veered into.

“Well, shit,” Katara says.

Zuko looks over at her with widened eyes. “Usually you’re the diplomatic one.”

“Well, I can’t really think of a diplomatic way to react to that revelation.”

Toph says, “How’s this for shit: based on what witnesses have said, it looks like he can bloodbend without a full moon.”

Zuko and Katara share a loaded look.

Aang blinks. “You… don’t seem surprised.” He glances between the two. “We came to ask you if you thought it could be possible. We have witnesses, but--”

“It’s possible,” Katara interrupts, calm and sure.

A heavy beat passes before Aang asks, “Have you-- Katara, have you done it?”

She lets out a long breath before she explains, “Until now, Hama was the only other bloodbender we’d ever met, and she told us that a full moon was necessary for the technique. And…” Katara sighs softly. “And for Hama, the full moon was necessary, but my bending is stronger than hers was. The full moon certainly makes it easier, but it’s not required.”

“Katara--”

“Don’t start with me, Aang.” Under the table, Zuko takes her hand. “When I first did it, I swore I would never do it again. It felt… wrong and barbaric, and that was never something I had ever associated with my bending.

“But I realized years ago that by cutting myself off from the possibilities--”

“What possibilities?” Aang asks, heated. “We outlawed it for a reason. You fought for it as much as anyone else!”

Katara lets out an exasperated breath. “Have you forgotten already, my pupil?” she says with a wry edge. “Waterbending isn’t all about fighting.”

“Healing,” Toph surmises. “You used it for healing.”

“Yes,” Katara answers. “One of the biggest drawbacks of healing with water is that deeper, more serious injuries are often harder and take longer to fix. But if we can heal someone using their blood, then healing those injuries will be faster and much less taxing. And perhaps someday it won’t be just injuries we can fix. Illness, maiming, wounds that could’ve been crippling or fatal…”

Aang sighs. “You can save more people,” he concludes.

“Yes,” she replies.

He does have the good sense to look sheepish. “Sorry for assuming the worst. Sifu Katara,” he adds with a little mock bow, just to make her smile.

It works, but it’s tempered. “Look, I get your reluctance,” Katara says. “Really, I do. When we made it illegal, it was meant to be a bottle stopper on a technique that can easily be abused, but if what you’re saying about Yakone is true, then the bottle is leaking.”

“So how do we stop it?” Aang asks.

“Well, a good start would be putting Yakone in prison once and for all,” Katara says.

Zuko says, “He’s managed to weasel his way out of all the charges that have been brought against him. Trying to convince people that he can bloodbend without a full moon won’t be easy. What evidence do you have so far?”

“Witnesses,” Toph answers. “Lots of them.”

Katara says, “You’ll have a tough time getting enough credible witnesses who tell a consistent story to convince people that something thought to be impossible is possible.”

Aang says, “We’ve already got a dozen ready and willing to share what they saw.”

“That won’t be enough,” Zuko says.

“We’re working on that,” Toph says, “and we have leads for at least ten--”

“What if I testified?” Katara asks suddenly.

“No,” Zuko says. “Katara, you can’t be serious.”

“I am serious,” she says. “I’m a bloodbender who can do the technique you’re trying to convince people is possible. That would mean the burden of proof is moved away from proving it’s possible to proving that Yakone can do and has done it.”

Toph nods along with her words, and says in response, “That’s actually a really good idea. If we can get the Council to focus on the testimony rather than the bending…”

“And get the Fire Lady,” Aang says, “one of the most powerful politicians in the world, to admit on record that she also can do and has done something that illegal?”

Zuko looks over at Katara as if to say See?

She sighs. “I can’t just turn my back on Republic City because we’ve been keeping my bloodbending a secret. It sounds like we have a chance, a real chance, to finally put Yakone away, and if I don’t do everything I can to ensure that that happens, then how can I look myself in the mirror and say I’m trying to make the world a better place?”

“Think about the political implications,” Zuko says, and gets a strange look on his face. “I can’t believe I’m the one saying that to you right now but seriously. Agni knows how many enemies we have, and this would be the exact sort of thing to give them more wind in their sails. Plus, with all the fearmongering that went on about bloodbending after the war, testifying that you can do it whenever you want? People are going to fear you,” he shakes his head, expression sad.

“Give the people some credit,” Toph says. “Katara is probably the most popular public figure in the world behind Aang. People freaking love her. What kind of evil bloodbending witch builds hospitals for poor people?”

A silence draws over the table. An impasse.

In true Avatar fashion, Aang breaks the silence by saying, “I propose a compromise.” He smiles ruefully. “I think with the case we’re building, the evidence and the witnesses Toph has found, I think it will be enough.” He turns to Toph, “You trust the people enough to not turn on Katara, but not enough to rely on the witnesses to help convict Yakone? Look,” he continues, looking between all of them, “I think this time we will have enough to convict him. My worry is that when the time comes and he is convicted, he will not take that lying down.”

Katara nods slowly. “If he is as talented a bender as you say, and based on what we know about him, I doubt he goes quietly.”

“Exactly,” Aang says. “We need someone who could go up against him.” He looks meaningfully at Katara. “Instead of testifying, you provide backup in case we lose control. If that happens, I will take his bending away.”

Zuko says, “I still don’t like the idea of Katara exposing herself like that. But,” he tacks on at his wife’s look, “it’s not the worst plan.”

“It leaves a lot up to chance,” Katara says, but it is not a disagreement.

Aang replies, “So does any plan. This is the one with the least risk and highest reward.”

Katara contemplates silently for a few moments, a finger stroking her chin. “I think this could work, and taking his bending seems like the safest way to handle him. Toph,” she says, “what do you think?”

Toph groans and slouches back in her seat, tipping her head back and saying her next words to the sky, “I think we’re going to have to find the best prosecutor in Republic City, because this is going to be a fight.”

***

“We have dozens of witnesses, Yakone. We know what you are.”

Yakone growls as metal cuffs are bent onto his wrists, “I’ve beaten every trumped up charge you yahoos have brought against me, and I’ll beat this one too.”

“Get him out of here,” Toph says, and he allows himself to be escorted out of the restaurant by two officers, and the doors slam shut behind him. This leaves her and Aang standing next to each other, the silence that has descended just shy of eerie.

Aang’s face is grim. “Now comes the hard part.”

***

Several weeks later, the case of Republic City versus Yakone of the Southern Water Tribe is heard by the sitting United Republic Council.

Katara dresses down for the occasion, leaving behind her Fire Lady regalia and headpiece in favor of a short-sleeved, fur-trimmed amauti belted across her waist, sealskin boots, and a long, indigo blue skirt slit up the sides to just above her knee to allow full range of movement. She looks no different than any other Water Tribe woman and blends in with the onlookers who have come to witness the open door spectacle that is Yakone’s (hopefully last) trial.

In trying to remain anonymous, Aang and Toph agreed to not interact with her; Sokka doesn’t even know she’s here. It hurts to keep a secret from him, but with his duty to remain impartial, it’s better to keep him in the dark.

(Initially, Zuko had wanted to send security with her, but she rolled her eyes. “Zuko, I am the security.” She had eventually relented in the face of her husband’s genuine concern and agreed to take two Kyoshi-trained bodyguards with her, both of whom are also anonymously dressed and seated far enough from her to maintain their cover.)

(It is much harder for her husband to remain anonymous in this city, so he agrees to watch the children and wait for them at Aang and Toph’s home on Air Temple Island.)

(She can’t wait to tell Sokka that the Fire Lord is babysitting.)

Katara prays the two flasks of water she has attached to her belt prove unnecessary. Hopefully, any bending will be unnecessary. She hasn’t used bloodbending as a weapon in many years, and she isn’t keen to break her streak.

As she settles into a seat in the middle of the rows of tables and chairs in the main room of City Hall, Katara lets her eyes make a sweep of the room. The architecture is decidedly modern, but takes many cues from all four nations. The sweeping, high ceilings remind her of many grand rooms in the Fire Palace. The solid marble pillars and stone pilasters are uniquely Earth Kingdom. The open room looking up to the many different floors of the building invoke the Air Temples. The graceful arches, including the embellished one behind the Council’s dais, are very clearly inspired by the Northern Water Tribe.

(Katara wishes she could see something distinctively inspired by the South Pole, but their architectural heritage had been all but lost. Despite years having passed since the end of the war, its scars linger in the most unexpected ways.)

The Council files into the hall, and the constant murmur of the gathered crowd dies out and the councilmembers take their seats. Sokka, keeping with his duties as chairman, begins the proceedings. He lists the date and location for the benefit of the stenographer, going through the various things that need to be recorded for posterity. Katara can feel the tension ratcheting up in the room as Sokka details the rules of the courtroom and warns that disruptive individuals will be escorted out.

“With that settled, please bring out the accused.”

Yakone has aged since Katara had last seen him. Unsurprising, since that must’ve been ten or so years past that she was face to face with him. He looks entirely too confident for a man on trial. It rankles something in her that he thinks he can just spit in the face of the laws they put in place to secure peace, that people can let the wounds of war fester and sow the very same discord that caused their wounds in the first place.

Once Yakone is seated, Sokka asks counsel to present their opening arguments.

The prosecutor representing Republic City stands and begins, “Yakone has ruled Republic City’s criminal empire for years, yet he has always managed to stay out of the law’s reach… Until now. You will hear testimony from dozens of his victims, and they will tell you Yakone has maintained his grip on the underworld by using an ability that has been illegal for decades. Bloodbending.” She continues to lay out the case for the Council, and Katara must admit, she spins a compelling narrative. As she summarizes the case Toph and Aang have built against him, Katara glances around the room. Most of the faces she sees are nodding, and a few murmured words of agreement reach her ears. At the very least it would seem the public is on their side, but that doesn’t mean conviction is a given.

Sokka had told her that the representatives from the Earth Kingdom and the Northern Water Tribe have been the holdouts on convicting Yakone, citing the heavily circumstantial evidence. (“It’s not like they’re exactly wrong,” Sokka had said, “but come on . When even circumstantial evidence piles up like that, something is fishy.”) A conviction was anything but guaranteed. And if they manage to secure a guilty verdict, then there’s the matter of if Yakone will go quietly.

After the prosecutor wraps up her speech, she is seated, and Yakone’s defense attorney stands and delivers his own argument.

“The prosecution’s entire case is built upon the make believe notion that my client is able to bloodbend at will, at any time on any day. I remind the council that bloodbending is an incredibly rare skill and it can only be performed during a full moon,” he says, and Katara shifts in her seat. Perhaps it had been a mistake for her to conceal her abilities. At least then the public would be able to hear the witness testimony with the full truth already known.

He continues, “Yet, the witnesses will claim that my client used bloodbending at every other time except during a full moon. It would be a mockery of justice to convict a man of a crime that is impossible to commit.” For several more minutes, the attorney continues in this vein, impugning the witnesses’ character and motives and maintaining that Yakone is a victim of partisan politics and a smear campaign. It’s difficult for Katara to listen to without wanting to break something.

When Yakone’s attorney concludes, Sokka asks for witnesses, and the trial itself truly begins.

***

It’s a grueling trial. In total, it ends up lasting something like twenty-two hours with dozens of witnesses testifying to what they saw. Person after person, from a variety of backgrounds and nations. Shopkeepers and artisans, stay-at-home mothers and military veterans, jailhouse informants and former gang members, and all say the same thing: Yakone is a bloodbender, and he doesn’t need the full moon to do it.

Katara has to hand it to Aang and Toph--they did not take any shortcuts on their investigation. The testimony had been thorough, brutal, and consistent. Somewhere around the seventh witness, the defense attorney’s arguments became progressively more repetitive and less believable. In short, it had been utterly damning.

“Councilman Sokka will now deliver the verdict.”

Her brother stands, looking out across the gathered crowd. “In my years, I have encountered people born with rare and unique bending abilities. I once bested a man with my trusty boomerang who was able to firebend with his mind.” That makes Katara crack a grin. Of course he’d find a way to bring up his boomerang. At least he skipped over the name he’d given to said firebender.

Sooka continues, “Why, even metalbending was considered impossible for all of history until our esteemed chief of police Toph Beifong single-handedly developed the skill. The overwhelming amount of testimony and evidence has convinced this council that Yakone is one of these unique benders, and he exploited his ability to commit these heinous crimes. We find Yakone guilty of all charges and sentence him to life in prison.”

A gavel bang officially adjourns the court, and they have done it. Yakone is going away for good.

This is what they were hoping for, and also the situation they were dreading. Katara tenses in her seat, shifting forward with her eyes locked on Yakone.

Initially, he is still. His attorney wads a sheet of paper and throws it across the room with a huff. Two metalbenders come to take him away.

Then Yakone stands. She cannot see his hands, but Katara can feel the exact moment he starts to bend.

She was only fourteen last time someone bent her blood, nearly thirty years ago now but the sensation slides over her like a familiar, unwelcome caress. Her muscles seize, her veins throb, and for a handful of fearful seconds, Katara is afraid that she isn’t strong enough to beat him.

He’s bloodbending an entire room full of people, the Council, the crowd, Toph, and even Aang.

Aang appears to be fighting against the control, his hand shaking with exertion as he reaches out towards Yakone.

As a groaning Toph is forced to undo his shackles, Aang grits out, “Yakone, you won’t get away with this.”

Yakone forcefully drops his arms, and Katara can feel it in the rush of her blood--he’s going to knock everyone out. As everyone in the room drops, Katara breathes and controls her fear. She stops the rush of her blood away from her head. She feels the hush and whisper of the water moving in her flasks, and when she pushes herself, she can feel the same movement in everyone around her, the push and pull of blood through their veins like the push and pull of the sea.

As much as Hama was dangerous, she was also right. Water is everywhere. Katara is surrounded by it, and when she is surrounded by her element, she cannot lose.

Yakone laughs and turns toward Aang, still frozen, and lifts him into the air. “Republic City is mine, Avatar. I’ll be back one day to claim it.”

The mobster makes a move to throw Aang into the stairs at the foot of the Council’s table, but finds himself quite suddenly stopped.

“Over my dead body,” Katara calls out, and steps out into the aisle between the tables, hands before her in bloodbending form. She can feel his blood flowing through his body, the shape of the circulatory system like a scarlet tree running through him, and it is hers to control.

Aang drops like a sack of flour, and Katara winces as he hits the floor.

“That could be arranged, Fire Lady,” Yakone growls, and Katara gasps and he wrenches himself from her control and the full force of his bloodbending hits her like a runaway wagon.

He is powerful. Far more powerful than Hama. The fear of being weaker than him slams into her again as he lifts her off the floor. The breath is forced from her lungs as her head is jerked backwards. She grits her teeth together, trying to wrest control of her body back, but he’s fighting her.

“You’re strong,” Yakone says, a touch of strain in his deep voice, “but not strong enough.”

She feels as though she is about to explode, but he is not stronger than her. “Funny,” she wheezes, “I was about to say the same to you! ” On her last word, she finally breaks her arms free of his control and hurls Yakone into a pillar. His back collides with the surface, and his head snaps backwards and cracks against the marble.

Katara drops, grunting when she hits the floor, but she finds her feet again fast. She’s gasping with exertion, but she cannot let her guard down now. She will not lose.

Unfortunately, the hit against the pillar wasn’t as severe as it sounded, as Yakone is already standing again.

“You little brat,” he says, and before she can stop him, he picks her up and returns the favor, sending her flying backwards, all the way to the doors of City Hall. They shatter under the force of her body, and shards of wood slice through her skin and clothing. She maintains the presence of mind to bend the water out of her flasks and create a wall of ice that she slides up against before she can go tumbling down the stairs.

She staggers to her feet, her head pounding from the impact and her joints reminding her that she is not as young as she once was.

Yakone follows her out, pace measured and slow--perhaps her throw had done more damage than he let on. Katara takes quick stock of herself--the cuts from her unpleasant trip through the door are superficial, and her head’s throbbing is quieting. Nothing is broken, though her ankle might be slightly twisted. Nothing that will make her unable to fight.

She prays that Aang won’t be down for long, and bends like her life depends on it.

She’s never been in a bloodbending fight like this. It’s always been the case where she was clearly stronger, like with Hama, or her opponent was not a waterbender, like when she and Zuko went after the Southern Raiders. But this is her seizing control of Yakone and trying to force him to his knees, and then him wresting back control and trying to dislocate her shoulders. Her joints and tendons creak, her heart heaves in confusion in her chest, and a pained groan forces its way out of her throat.

This is Katara managing to break free just before the joints pop out of place and throwing Yakone down the stairs to give herself a moment of respite. Sweat beads on her forehead as she bends the water she’d brought with her over Yakone, freezing him in place.

Her bonds don’t last long as he melts the water and sends it back in her direction. He bends it into a dozen daggers, razor sharp and coming at her fast. Taking control of her blood, Yakone holds her directly in their path.

With a pained shout, Katara manages to take control of her body back in time to dodge out of the way, tucking and rolling. She comes up onto one knee and reaches out to take hold of Yakone’s blood once more.

This back and forth is exhausting, the unnatural movements forced onto her body make her feel bruised and raw, and doing this technique under the sun is no small task.

She tries to do what Yakone did earlier, tries to force his blood away from his head and make him pass out like he’d done to the whole courtroom, but he manages to hold her off. She can see the strain on his face and is gratified that she’s not the only one struggling.

She grits her teeth, pushing at his blood harder.

With a tortured shout, Yakone takes his own blood back. Katara stumbles, and he presses his advantage. She finds herself pushed down onto the ground, first her knees, then her hands, Yakone pressing down against her back. If she cedes her ability to move, if he manages to get her face down on the ground, she won’t be able to bend. She will lose.

Kicking one of her knees up so she rests on just the one, Katara looses her arms from Yakone’s control. In a move that was adapted from firebending, she punches out with her arms quickly, one aimed for the blood in his chest and the other towards his knees.

The first lands hard, she can feel the blood shimmering under the impact as the breath is driven from his lungs and he loses his grip on Katara. The second is a lighter hit--less blood in the joints, but it is effective in breaking his root and knocking him off balance. Katara pushes forward, taking on the traditional bloodbending form as she forces him down to his knees.

“Katara!”

Thank the Spirits . Aang shoots out of City Hall faster than an eel hound, riding a ball of compressed air.

Her hands shake as she attempts to keep her hold fast.

“Aang, now!” she shouts.

The years haven’t dulled their ability to work together, and Aang understands exactly what she wants from him. The ball of air dissolves beneath him as he adopts an earthbending stance. With a jab upwards, he bends a tight funnel of rock up and around Yakone, immobilizing him.

Katara stumbles backwards as she finally releases Yakone’s blood and a wave of exhaustion goes over her. She braces her hands on her knees as she watches Aang approach Yakone.

“I’m taking away your bending for good,” Aang says. Between one heartbeat and the next, Aang enters the Avatar State. His eyes and tattoos take on a familiar glow.  His hands go to Yakone’s head and chest, and a few seconds later, it is over. Yakone slumps down as much as the rock prison allows.

“Katara!” Aang calls out again, rushing to her side. “Are you all right?”

She grunts as she puts a little bit of weight on the bad ankle. Definitely a sprain, but not severe. She bends the water across City Hall’s steps back into the flask, but saves a little over her hands and sets about healing the bleeding cuts across her body. Zuko would probably have an aneurysm if she came back bleeding. As it is, he’ll probably have at least a minor meltdown looking at the tattered and bloody state of her clothing. “I’m okay.” She looks past him at Yakone, whose eyes are closed as if asleep. “He’s down?”

Aang nods. “He’ll never bend again.”

Katara nods and bends the water on her hands back into her flasks. “Good, because I’d just like to go on record as saying I never want to do that again.”

Aang steps forward and hugs her tightly. He really can give some of the best hugs--he’s always solid and warm, his robes are soft and smell faintly of incense, and his height and long limbs mean she always feels surrounded by his affection and sincerity. There’s a part of her that misses when he was younger, when he was the kid that she was responsible for, the kid she needed to protect and take care of. But this? This is it’s own kind of better.

“I’m sorry you had to do it at all,” Aang says softly.

“Necessary sacrifices. It’s what needed to be done,” Katara says. She lingers in his embrace for a few more seconds before she pulls away.

“And you’re sure you’re okay?”

“I will be. I think I just need some rest.” She chuckles breathlessly. “I feel like I just ran a marathon.”

“Here, I’ll call Appa for you so you can get back to Air Temple Island--”

“No,” she interrupts gently. “I want to see this through.”

And as much as collapsing on a bed right now sounds appealing, it is not too much of a task to see Yakone off to prison and ensure that everyone who was a victim of his bending in the courtroom is unharmed.

Toph lets off some creative expletives when Katara revives her, and Aang hugs her desperately before she can go off on a rampage. Toph softens, and the pair kiss before they pull away from each other. Toph punches Katara in the arm in both greeting and gratitude.

Sokka comes back to in a similar fashion, and is livid in turn about Katara having to fight Yakone by herself and also about missing an “epic bloodbending battle.” She can sense that he’s a little hurt she never told him about her full bloodbending abilities, but he keeps it to himself for now. She owes him a full explanation later, when it’s just the two of them. She’s always hated keeping secrets from him.

(There’s also a part of her that knows he’s going to censure her for pushing to illegalize something and then continuing to do it behind everyone’s backs. And perhaps he’ll be right to be mad, but that’s just going to have to be a bridge she’ll cross when she gets to it. If there’s one thing she hates more than keeping secrets from Sokka, it’s him being disappointed in her.)

Aang eventually does call for Appa once the chaos of the day has settled and Toph puts her second-in-command in control of the rest of the cleanup, and the bison takes them all to Air Temple Island. Despite the ride only taking ten minutes, Katara nearly falls asleep on Sokka’s shoulder.

When they arrive, Suki is already there with a worried Zuko standing next to her.

“We heard what happened,” Suki says in explanation, and Zuko rushes over to Appa and helps Sokka get Katara out of the saddle. She feels a little pathetic that she can barely stand on her own and has to have her brother and husband practically lift her down, but mostly she’s grateful.

Zuko’s hug is tighter than Aang’s was, and she can feel the minuscule shakes going through him. A ball of tension lingering in her chest finally eases as she clutches him back. “It’s been so long since we’ve had to fight anyone,” he whispers. “I forgot how scary it is to send you off on your own.”

“I know,” she replies, stroking a hand through his hair. It’s completely unbound, a rarity he only indulges in when in the most intimate of settings, and it allows fingers to run through it without interruption. “But I’m alright. My whole body feels like a giant bruise and I want to go to bed in the middle of the afternoon, but I’m alright.”

His arms tighten around her again, and he kisses her hair.

All too soon, or perhaps not soon enough, reality comes rushing back in the form of their children.

“Mom!”

She’d expected Kyokani or Kya, their exuberance at seeing their mother still untempered, but to her surprise and delight, it’s Iroh who calls out to her. He runs up to her and hugs her with a similar degree of desperation as his father had, and Katara has to hold back tears.

It’s not that Iroh isn’t a loving, wonderful son (in spite of the brooding angst that had bloomed not long after he’d turned sixteen), but he’s going through a phase where hugging his mom is not exactly on the top of the list of things he wants to do. But Spirits, if he isn’t hugging her now like he had when he was six years old and was frightened by the Dragon Catacombs when he’d stumbled upon them while alone.

She supposes it makes sense--they hadn’t told their youngest children much beyond the fact that Mom needed to help Uncle Aang and Aunt Toph take down a bad guy. However, Iroh knows exactly who Yakone is and exactly how much danger his mother was just in. (Katara imagines she’ll be getting an earful from Izumi about her safety next time she sees her. Her firstborn is a lot like her father in that way.)

She’s hears a high pitched, “Mama!” and looks over Iroh’s shoulder to find little Kyokani with Kya hot on his heels racing to greet her. Katara can’t bring herself to let go of her oldest son just yet, and with a grin brings him down to his knees with her so that she can have all her kids in her arms at once. Iroh, surprisingly, doesn’t complain. “Did you and Uncle Aang and Aunt Toph get the bad guy?” Kyo asks.

“Yeah,” Katara chuckles. “We got him.”

“Was there a big fight?” asks Kya, and their little group hug begins to disperse as it’s clear Kya and Kyokani want the story of how they got the bad guy.

Katara laughs. “Yes, there was a big fight.”

“Whoa,” Kya says with wide eyes. “And you beat him?”

“Well,” Katara says with a small shrug, “Uncle Aang helped a little bit.”

Aang gives Appa a parting pat and turns with his hands on his hips. “Hey, I did more than a little bit!”

“He came in at the end,” Katara stage whispers. When she moves to stand again, she loses her balance a bit. “Oof.” She’s steadied by Iroh’s hand on her back.

“Mom, are you alright?” Iroh asks.

“Just tired,” she tells him, and pats his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Mom you gotta tell us about the big fight!” Kya asks, tugging at her mother’s skirt.

“Hey, I can tell you about it!” Aang says, and then he crouches down. “Also, I want a hug too!”

“Me three!” says Sokka, and the youngest of the Fire Nation clan scatters to hug their favorite uncles.

Katara elbows Iroh, who is still standing next to her with a look of worry on his face. “Go say hi to your uncles and aunts. Aunt Toph also probably wants a hug, even if she’s not going to ask for one.”

Iroh nods and does as he’s told. (And yes, Aunt Toph absolutely did want a hug. Katara can almost hear Iroh’s bones crack under her grip from where she stands.)

Then Zuko comes to her side and takes her hand. He says, “They’re going to distract them for a while so that you can go get some rest.”

Suki, who’d been waiting to join the fray of hugs, says, “There’s a guest room set up for you just off the main hall. Zuko knows where it is.” She looks back at the Temple and then back at Katara, “You might want to go before Luna and Ukira get wind that you’re here. I trust Tenzin and Lin to be a little more restrained, but--”

“Wait,” Katara says, “they’re all here? I shouldn’t be sleeping while everyone is here.” She wishes even more fervently that Izumi was home. Then her family would truly be complete.

“Hey,” Zuko says softly, squeezing her hand, “everyone will still be here when you wake up.”

It takes a bit more cajoling to get Katara to the guest room, but once she lies down, Zuko sitting next to the bed and promising to stay until she falls asleep, it’s almost no time at all before she drifts off.

After all, she’d always slept best surrounded by the people she loves.

[mitigatedchaos]

@learn-tilde-ath

Perhaps anon isn’t saying “it would be correct to view it in the opposite way” so much as “isn’t this flawed like the opposite world be”? Like, uh, what if neither coalition is particularly agentic, and, there’s not really anyone at the wheel?

To continue the grumpy post with another long, grumpy and uncharitable post (again ‘J’ key to skip),

“You can’t be racist against white people, because racism is prejudice plus power.”  

By itself, that statement should be enough to realize that Social Justice is ideologically corrupt and that it shouldn’t be given power, including by listening to and following its pronouncements on who is and isn’t “racist.”  I considered that obvious the first time I encountered this stuff.  I’ll explain how.

The statement is incredibly racist.  Or rather, because Left/Libs determine what “racist” is and have decided as a group that it isn’t racist, the statement is incredibly Alternative Racist, or alt-racist.  

To end racism, it was supposed to be the case that no one was going to be allowed to, well, do racism.  It’s true that “white people” “face less systemic oppression” in general.  It is not true that they either never face systemic oppression, or that they never could face systemic oppression in the future.  “White people” being allowed to call something “racism” is part of how they’re supposed to prevent the emergence of organized racism against them in the future, if it should come to that, and part of how they enforce the agreement to prevent the agreement’s gradual erosion.  Removing the ability to declare racism just because it “isn’t needed” fundamentally disrespects the personhood of “white people” as a party to the agreement.

It is a violation of the agreement, and a pretty major one.

It doesn’t matter if “but it’s a sociological term.”  We all know that “racism” in common use most certainly isn’t a sociological term, and that this redefinition is based on bad faith strategic equivocation to leverage the emotional load for the existing term “racism.”

Just about everything in Social Justice is like this.  

Let’s take another example.  “Lived experiences.”  You aren’t supposed to dismiss “lived experiences.”  I get what this is reacting against, which is also a logical fallacy - “statistically your group suffers less of this, therefore it can’t have happened to you”.  However, it’s still bad epistemology.  “Oppressed people” are said to have special information that overrides and is more important than statistics, and which “privileged people” fundamentally can’t understand.

Special information that outsiders can’t understand even if you tell them?  That one can’t verify from observations?  That sounds like a security exploit for your brain, doesn’t it?

All it takes is to apply just a small assumption of the possibility of bad faith.

“Privileged people can’t see their own privilege.”

Same deal.   It’s not hard to notice.  Why didn’t they?

Each one of these statements is questionable in itself, but of course they’re much worse when taken in the context of all the other statements.

Take, for instance, “all white people benefit from white supremacy.”  (If you mean all white people benefit from e.g. throwing innocent black people in jail then no, that’s begging the question of their guilt.  It costs almost one median national income to keep someone in jail, so unless you hate black folks already, keeping someone who wasn’t going to commit a crime penned up for the benefit of drug-planting Racist Louisiana Sheriff B. Adolf Higgins is a huge waste of money that just makes other people angry at you and your government.)

There’s no point making that kind of statement unless you’re trying to pin collective moral liability on the basis of race, presumably under the (broken) assumption that whoever you’re making the statement to can put pressure on Sheriff Higgins, even though Sheriff Higgins was already considered in the wrong at that time.  It essentially presumes a racial command and control infrastructure.  Going with the high-contextualizer mode that we’re supposed to apply to racism claims in order to detect subtle, hidden racism, otherwise, why even say it?  It’s a claim “you’re receiving stolen goods, therefore you need to act (as we say) or you are guilty.”

But combine that with the constant talk about colonialism, conquest, and genocide, which are called “white supremacy,” and then combine that with talk about unearned “privilege.”  Suddenly we have not only collective moral liability, but collective moral liability going back seventeen generations, extending to actions on multiple continents, many of which were quite bloody.  Since “the benefit” is most of an entire continent, then “removing the unearned benefit” implies removing the continent, plus interest, plus an amount of suffering equivalent to every war waged by colonial European powers.

“Well they don’t really mean that,” one might say.  But the thing about outwards-facing ideological rhetoric is that the next generation doesn’t get the joke.  

It’s quite a gamble vs. just keeping individual moral liability and moral liability by ideological/political groups where membership is fluid.  It’s also illiberal.

There are all sorts of other approaches.  Free school lunches, afterschool programs, food stamps, and the like can reach the worst off, including when “worst off” is not evenly distributed, but don’t have this kind of spectacular potential failure mode.  Likewise, demanding police reforms, even on the basis of being victims of racial prejudice, doesn’t require this.  

Back when it came out, I thought it was just a few lunatics on the Internet.  Then suddenly, it was everywhere.  “Respectable,” “serious” people supported this kind of nonsense that was alt-racist against JAWs, and institutions started working this stuff into their rules.  Not the full implications, of course.  Just, say, hiring people on the basis of their “diversity” statements, as one UC school did, to take an example.  (Or in the gender case, weakening standards of evidence for accusations of sex crimes... but in practice only against men.)

Going to Afghanistan could be interpreted as “reacting to” 9/11.  Going into Iraq can’t really.  Back during that era, Team Blue were “team” “science and reason” and “better than” those “dumb religious conservatives.”  It was argued that they would get better outcomes because they had a better theory of knowledge, as demonstrated by not believing in the supernatural.

Then they went and gave power to an alt-racist cult that should have tripped their internal cult warnings before they even got close to it.

There was going to be a reaction to the first black President not immediately ending all racism, but deciding to attribute that to “white people” (actually JAWs, see e.g. “white-adjacent,” “people of more color”) instead of an ideological group (they have been blaming Republicans as racist for years, why not just keep doing that?) was a choice that they made.

So either they’re less cult-resistant, dumber, or more immoral than my initial judgments of them during the late Bush and early Obama administrations.

If both groups are stupid, evil, and culty, then it’s question of which stupid evil cult most suits my purposes at a given time, including which one is more threatening to me and my long-term interests.

[wydmariana]

well hellooooo beautiful people !!  my name’s dani, i’m one of the admins on the main! i’m 20, i’m from toronto & i also play the hailey fc alanna !! i’m so fkn excited to have wealthy back up & running and to bring my baby mariana back ! she’s the same old girl and if you don’t know anything about her...everything u need is under the read more ! i rly need all the connections rn so like this & i’ll hit you up for plots !!!!

❛ new york’s very own mariana cavello was spotted on broadway street in  christian louboutin’s. your resemblance to selena gomez is unreal. according to tmz, you just had your twenty-third birthday bash. while living in new york, you’ve been labeled as being reticent, but also quixotic. i guess being a gemini explains that. three things that would paint a better picture of you would be fishnets, tequila shots, notebooks filled with lyrics. & ( cisfemale & she/her ) + ( dani, 20, she/her, est )

☇   ❪    ˚･ﾟ ❛ STATISTICS :

full name: mariana marisol cavello

nickname(s): mari

age: twenty three

date of birth: june 4th

hometown: new york city

current location: upper east side, new york city

ethnicity: half mexican

nationality: american

gender: cisfemale

pronouns: she/her

parents names: tanner hastings, liliana cavello

orientation: pansexual but she doesn’t like labels

religion: grew up catholic, undecided

political affiliation: democrat

occupation: singer/songwriter

living arrangements: lives in her own mansion in the upper east side

language(s) spoken: english, spanish

accent: american

face claim: selena gomez

hair colour: x (most basic/accurate/but it changes)

eye colour: brown

height: 5″5

weight: 120lbs

build: petite

tattoos: mostly selena’s canon, but x instead of the music note

piercings: x (both ears)

drugs/alcohol/sex: yes/yes/yes

pets: one cat, 5 years old, named sergio - x

astrological chart: gemini sun, cancer moon, scorpio rising

☇   ❪    ˚･ﾟ ❛  BACKSTORY/CURRENT :

mariana was born to tanner cavello (famous hotel owner, entrepreneur, multimillionaire, been on forbes, think bart bass) & lilliana cavello (hispanic model/socialite)

her parents marriage was very much settling, the two of them cared about each other & were excited to start their life together in effort to please their parents and keep their images pristine

they were quick to fall out of love though, if you could say they were even ever in it

once mariana and her brother became teenagers, their dad started having affairs with his employes, the hot, young ones of course. & their mom found out, but confided in a 16 year old mariana about her father’s actions

( sexual abuse tw ) this infuriated mariana, especially considering the hours she would spend waiting outside her father’s office doing homework while his business partners molested her in the empty conference room starting at the age of 14

she never told anyone about it, although she knew her father had known the whole time, remembering how many times he’d interrupt it by summoning his partners for work or a meeting

mariana began absolutely hating her father, while still yearning for his approval, & this went on for 4 years until she turned 18 and got revenge by sleeping with one of her dad’s business partners & allowing his wife to find out

so his wife threatened to tell the media about this little scandal, unless mari’s dad paid them off, which is exactly what he did but not before taking his anger out on mariana & blaming her for the whole mess

she has barely talked to her dad since & moved out right as that whole situation went down. she does her best to avoid family gatherings, doesn’t visit the house to see her parents too often. she does have weekly phone calls with her mom & tries to see her as often as she can, no matter how much she resents her

she got into the party scene around 17/18 as well, and became new york’s resident “wild child rich kid/socialite” in her teen years, so she has that reputation in the media still to this day

her parents have been rich as fuck since the day she was born, so she’s definitely a spoiled brat, never worked a day in her life, had daddy’s credit card whenever she needed it

music had always been a passion of hers though, being her favorite class in school(on days when she would actually attend)

so when she was 20, she started getting back into writing, sold a couple of her songs to artists like zendaya, the weeknd, etc

when she turned 21 she released her first single & album within the same year, began touring, and got to the top of the charts almost right away & gained a huge fanbase, whom she loves

she’s now 23 and has two studio albums out !! she’s v successful and happy w her music <3 she releases things very sporadically & im probs gonna  release random selena songs along with other voice claims maybe IDKDKKD hope yall dont mind  my  messy ass kskffsk

she works hard though, & loves writing and releasing music now and never wants to stop. it’s truly the thing that makes her most happy in the entire world and keeps her sane

☇   ❪    ˚･ﾟ ❛  PERSONALITY  :

mariana can be a brat, to put it simply. she thinks she’s always right about everything & it’s rare you’re ever gonna get an apology from her when she’s done something wrong (unless she really cares about you which….)

she’s lowkey a softie, bc of her cancer moon tbh. she tends to get herself into relationships and then mess them up for the sake of it or because she stops trusting herself to be in the relationship at all

but when she loves someone, she LOVES them, like w every fibre in her body u know?

and she cares fiercely about people, it ends up being a problem for her a lot of the time

she hasn’t worked through her trauma & probably never will, she bottles that shit up tight & doesn’t let anybody know it’s there. the only way she’s ever opening up is if she’s writing, cause she wants that shit to be real

but she’s still gonna hoe it up, catch her in the club trying to get some dick for the night, u know what i mean?

super depressed if we’re being real here. she’s sad, and she has abandonment issues because of her dad. so her mindset is- there’s no forming attachments, because everyone leaves me anyway

( drugs tw ) she loves cocaine, is most definitely an addict (but who isn’t in this city), tequila is her alcohol of choice, but she’ll drink anything you give her & weed is her creative saving grace

she started popping pain pills on her 21st birthday, opioids occasionally & mostly xanax, stuff like that, is most definitely also addicted to those

we love a bitch who doesn’t care about her health!

her management team frowns upon it, but she does smoke cigarettes pretty often, but mostly only when she’s stressed

mariana’s the type of bitch to call the paparazzi on herself, she loves attention. but with her music career now it’s been 10x harder for her to keep her life private, not that she cares. but at least she doesn’t have to call the paps on herself anymore lol

she thinks it’s important to treat people w kindness and respect, but no doubt she’ll be ready to fight a b*tch if she has to…

catch her at any protest that involves saying “fuck you trump”

her instagram is a big mix of stories of her cat, dumb selfies, ig model posts, her friends, career stuff & political posts. she’s very active on the gram & snapchat lol

honestly thank U for reading this trash if u didnt…i understand. catch her pinterest board for more here & i have a wanted connections page here ! ok bye i love u, plot w me <3

[misscaller-blog]

VITAL STATISTICS

I’ve been using this template for character statistics for ages and can no longer source it properly, so all credit is due to the original author of it!

BASIC

NAME: Chelsea Caller (born Savannah Evangeline Kittrell Whichillow) NICKNAMES: Chels is the most common abbreviation of Chelsea, but a fair number of people know her as IcyHot, which is vague in origins but still widely accepted because it is so fitting AGE: 26 years old (in-game and at present) BIRTHDAY: Date of birth unknown (31 May, 1992) GENDER: Cisgender female PRONOUNS: She/her/hers, Chelsea also accepts they/them/theirs

FAMILY

MOTHER: Iona Delilah Whichillow (née Carnathan, also Callaway and Kittrell) FATHER: Easton Lee Whichillow (adoptive father), Sullivan Butler Kittrell (biological father) SIBLINGS: Sutton Wellsley Whichillow, her younger half-sister

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES

ETHNICITY: White (like many white Americans, European in ancestry, but she’s a tenth or so generation American, which Iona is very proud of) NATIONALITY: American, specifically Kentuckian. HEIGHT: 5′10 BUILD: Mesomorphic, athletic TATTOOS: None, and she has no particular interest in getting any PIERCINGS: She has a few piercings in each of her ears HAIR COLOR: A light blonde that flits between golden and platinum depending on the lighting EYE COLOR: Green, like her father’s DOMINANT HAND: Right, unless it’s for texting, a skill she’s only picked up recently, then it’s left ANOMALIES: Several scars on various parts of her body ACCENT: General American, previously somewhere between the Southern Mountain dialect of English and Southern American English

MEDICAL HISTORY: She broke her wrist when she was eleven years old after falling off her bike, but other than a few scattered winter-time viruses over her childhood, an incident with bananas when she was four, and colic as an infant, her medical history is brief.  

ALLERGIES: Bananas (not an anaphylactic reaction, but they make her ill). NERVOUS TICS: None that she’s aware of. The members of the heist team would say she tends to toss her long hair every which way when she’s standing and waiting, bored. QUIRKS: (trigger warning for alcohol) There are certain words she can’t pronounce and doesn’t attempt to, Chelsea always has an opaque water bottle with something alcoholic in it at a heist (usually bourbon) (and accordingly, she carries mints, usually rolls of peppermint Lifesavers, with her everywhere as well), every item of clothing she owns has a pocket somewhere in it, she wears a pair of tiny gold hoop earrings every day.

LIFESTYLE

RESIDES: Thomaston, Nassau County, New York BORN: Carnathan House, Lavellan’s Wrath (also known as ‘the Wrath’ by locals in the region), Kentucky. RAISED: Lavellan’s Wrath, Kentucky.

PETS: Her childhood dogs were two black purebred Groenendaels named Savoir-Faire and Éclair. Easton gifted her a Australian shepherd she named Salacious after choosing the word at random from one of the books in the library (Iona hated Salacious’ name, and referred to her as Mignon instead) for her twelfth birthday, a few months before Sutton was born — the dog was a transparent consolation for her mother’s pregnancy, but Chelsea misses her old friend immensely.

RELIGION: Raised Protestant, along with the rest of the Wrath. BELIEFS: Her only belief is that exhaustion is endless. MISDEMEANORS AND FELONIES: By nature of the work she does as an accomplice to Roman’s heists, she has maybe fifty, seventy-five years of charges already. But being sent to prison would require getting caught, and she tries not to think of such miserable things. TICKETS AND/OR VIOLATIONS: None, and she doesn’t intend to receive any. DRUGS: None. She doesn’t like to be ‘out of control’. SMOKES: She doesn’t. Easton smoked pipe tobacco on occasion and hand rolled cigarettes frequently, but Iona despised the habit and would make him wash up and brush his teeth before he touched her, and Chelsea internalised her immense hatred for the stuff. (trigger warning) ALCOHOL: To abundance, frequently. DIET:  Relatively healthy, she’s never been able to tolerate consuming copious amounts of sugar. If she craves anything, it tends to be salt.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic, though she’s never been in love. (homophobia mention) SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Decisively bisexual, with a slight preference for men, though it’s questionable as to whether that’s the remains of compulsory heterosexuality and the hellfire homophobia preached in the place where she grew up. MARTIAL STATUS: Single, unimpressed with monogamy, and not looking to be married. Ever.

LANGUAGES: English, code-switching to the San Fernando Valley Dialect and Southern American English, French (limited), Japanese (less limited), anything the Getaway Driver could teach her.

PHOBIAS: Chelsea can’t stand unexpected loud noises. HOBBIES: She loves to read, and she’s trying to teach herself Japanese through reading children’s books from the New York Public Library with a dictionary and hiragana guide. She is also fond of plant care and a moderate-to-exceptional chef, depending on what she’s making.

ONE BAD HABIT: (alcohol warning) Her drinking habits. ONE GOOD HABIT: She’s a very clean and hygienic person in general. ONE HABIT THEY CAN’T BREAK: Staying up to late for no reason at all. ONE THEY’VE BROKEN: Listening to authority figures.

FAVOURITE

LOCATION: The Atlantic Ocean in its entirety, if only for the power it has. SPORTS TEAM: The Brooklyn Nets (unfortunately) (previously, KU). MUSIC: She listens to a range of genres, but was raised on opera recordings. SHOWS: It truly depends on what other people on the crew are watching, she’s not very keen on watching television without people to talk about what she’s watching with. MOVIES: She’s unsure. Easton was particularly enamored, surprisingly, with Hitchcock’s oeuvre, and Iona did like a few scattered sweeping Southern romances (including Gone With the Wind), but for the most part, Chelsea hasn’t seen very many movies. She’s working on it. FOOD: Turkish coffee. BEVERAGE: (alcohol mention) Bourbon. COLOR: Something vibrant and verdant and natural, so, green.

CHARACTER

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Currently either true or chaotic neutral. MBTI: Most likely an INTJ, though she’s difficult to pin down, and possibly an ENFP. MBTI ROLE: The Architect or the Campaigner. ENNEAGRAM: Type Eight. ENNEAGRAM ROLE: The Challenger / Protector. TEMPERAMENT: Phlegmatic or Sanguine. WESTERN ZODIAC: Gemini, the twins. CHINESE ZODIAC: Monkey. PRIMAL SIGN: Seal. TAROT CARD: Judgement.

SONG: ( that represents them ) “Can’t return the sacred time you steal / A fact betrays the way you feel / And the sight delays the right to heal / You decide to stay long.” (James Blake, Tell Them feat. Moses Sumney)

[catching-up-on-comic-books]

Binge Reading Journal - November 13, 2018 - the tenth day of reading Marvel’s Dark Reign (Part 3)

Secret Invasion- Requiem

Now they reprint Court-Martial by Jim Shooter (boy genius writer), Bob Hall (an underrated penciler), Dan Green on inks and Janice Chiang on Letters. This story was first featured in Avengers #213 in 1981 featuring the smack heard ‘round the world.

Hank Pym, now working under the name of Yellowjacket, is standing in front of Iron Man, Thor and Captain America. All in full uniform in their private mansion where no one can see, or get in or out. BUT this is a serious matter. Full uniform must be worn! Iron Man says that Cap has leveled some serious charges against Yellowjacket. Thor lets him know that if the accusations are true he will face formal court-martial! Thor wants the record to show that he and Iron Man are presiding as judges.....wait wait wait. These are just a bunch of dudes wearing really tight clothes in a swanky clubhouse. There’s no military sanction. Tony Stark is footing the bill (through the Maria Stark Foundation) so they can run around and smash things!

According to the Marvel Database, they’re a non-profit organization like the American Red Cross or Habitat for Humanity, recognized by the National Security Council of the US and the UN as a peacekeeping organization, ain’t nobody being court-martialed....pppsshhhh. Just be all like, “Hank you’re a jerk! Here are your things and go away.”

Well, these boys are going to go through this farce anyway. Cap states that the day before, during a mission where he was fighting a mysterious woman attacking Washington D.C. He managed to convince her to stop when Yellowjacket shot her in the back, which caused her to continue fighting. Iron Man asks for an explanation to which he has none. His own personal thoughts, legible in a bubble to the reader shows him thinking that he was a jerk and acted over eagerly to be the star on his first mission since rejoining the team.

Thor (who’s not really pretending at any of this because he actually is a Norse god) says they will convene for three days until the formal court-martial (hahahah) and suspends Hank until then so hand over your Avengers ID Card, Hank!

Hank pleads a little at this but Iron Man reminds him the rules, which he helped write, are firm on this.

I don’t think The Salvation Army has ever court-martialed anyone and they call themselves an army!

Janet is in the hallway outside the court-martial ichamber. Tigra asks why so down? Tigra, by the way is hanging from one of the rafters in the ceiling because it helps her relax. She wonders why Janet is so hung up on that strange guy anyway. Can we remind 2008 Future Tigra, who’s having Skrull-Hank babies, she thought Hank was strange in 1981?

Hank leaves the room and practically shoves Janet aside, telling her to leave him alone when she asks how he is. He immediately regrets it an apologizes before she walks away. She comes in for an embrace and say sweet consoling things to each other. TIgra doesn’t get it.

As the other founding members go their separate ways, each one remembers their own mistakes from the past.

Cap recalls when, during a heated battle against Nazi soldiers, he reacted to a noise behind him and instinctively threw his shield. It was a little girl, an orphan, collecting the brass shells for money. He barely missed hitting her when she bent down to pick up a shell. Cap realizes that he nearly made the same mistake as Hank.

Iron Man is going over Hank’s files and pictures, As a founding member his history is tied in closely with the Avengers’ history. However, Hank never really seemed to settle in, taking on guises such as Giant-Man and Goliath. Tony feels that Hank always felt outclassed by himself and Iron Man, so he’d leave the team to try to come up with some scientific breakthrough to prove himself. One of those wound up being Ultron, the Avengers’ greatest enemy. Then he had an accident in the lab which triggered a mental breakdown. That’s when he started calling himself Yellowjacket. However, the schizophrenia was cured (can’t be cured.)

Schizophrenia, and other mental disorders are a pulp fiction trope, used to explain away erratic behavior. It is usually used by writers with very little understanding of the actual condition. Actually, a rigorous new definition of schizophrenia was fashioned for the ''Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Third Edition,'' or ''DSM-III,'' which was published by the American Psychiatric Association in 1980.

Nevertheless, Hank and Janet got married. As Iron Man continues reminiscing, he recalls how Ultron returned and forced him to create Jocasta from Janet’s brain waves. Iron Man wonders if Hank will ever stop looking for redemption. Is it fair to turn away from a friend who needs help, should he be punished for a mistake anyone of them could have made?

Janet and Hank head home, Janet stopping to sign autographs for fans waiting outside the mansion, none recognizing Yellowjacket. They head to their residence in Cresskill, New Jersey. (Did he always live there? Should I redo my ant speed calculations from that earlier issue?) Ah wait, their butler and other staff greet Janet like she’s the Queen of England and Hank is something she stepped in. She’s the rich one, inherited her father’s wealth which he made from science, with all his alien teleportation stuff. Not a lot of scientists manage to get rich. Usually the career path of a scientist is to become tenured at a university, write a lot of books and speaking engagements, they manage to make a decent living. Usually they work for companies and universities collecting meager salaries for the opportunity to science.

If a scientist manages to discover something, and patent it and comes up with a practical use for it, then there is an opportunity to become rich from it. A couple of rich, like Craig Ventner. Dr. Ventner, much like Hank Pym, is a biotechnologist, biochemist and geneticist. He was involved in mapping the human genome. Then he founded, Celera Genomics, institute for Genomic Research and the J. Craig Ventner Institute and Human Longevity, Inc.

At Celera, Ventner and his colleagues completed sequencing the human genome (Ventner’s genome specifically) three years ahead of schedule, beating the government funded Human Genome Project (your taxes at work.) Ventner’s discoveries, patents and stock ownership in the companies he’s founded made him very rich. Forbes estimates that his net worth (as of 2017) based on his stakes on two of his startups is about $300 million.

It seems like taking some real world examples, there’s some untapped story ideas to mine; what did Janet Van Dyne’s father discover and patent that made him rich and how has it impacted the world; how can Pym cash in on his own discoveries (not to mention Reed Richards, Hank McCoy, etc.).

Janet tries to get Hank into the bedroom, but he takes the laboratory over the seductive advances of his wife.

Hank admits he hates going to the lab because it reminds him of his failures, except there is one success he’s had in the lab: Robotics (wait, no that never turns out well.

Cut to three days later, Tigra is asleep in her private quarters, Bob Hall draws her in the nude but all the naughty bits are tastefully covered. She wakes up to the sound of Jarvis approaching her door. Jim Shooter makes it a point to say she slipped on a satiny negligee. It’s like the only reason Tigra was created was to get some weird furry fantasy going for the readers. A startled Jarvis, who’s never owned a cat apparently or else he wouldn’t be surprised by her behavior, is presenting Tigra with her first weekly stipend check.

She is surprised to learn that the Avengers get paid a salary. He clarifies that it is a modest stipend to cover living expenses, which most Avengers traditionally refuse, he adds in a snidely way. Hmmmm. Let’s see....Black Panther is the king of his own country so mega-rich; Thor, Prince of Asgard, so rich he doesn’t even need money; Captain America, probably collecting a lot of military back pay. See, Jarvis, most Avengers refuse the stipend because they’re already rich; not because they are doing it out of the goodness of their hearts.

He continues to economically shame her by pointing out that those that do accept the stipend are the ones that live at the mansion and have no outside means of support. Tigra finally gets a chance to read it and notices it is for one thousand dollars. Which in 1983, like $2,534.53 today or $131, 795.56 a year. That is a pretty good haul on top of room and board for Tigra.

Jarvis reminds her that the court-martial is at four o’clock that day. Meanwhile, Tony Stark is making an excuse to leave a board meeting at Stark International Headquarters, because writers think the best way to show a busy CEO is at a board meeting (not true, board meetings occur maybe just once a year unless there is an emergency, trope alert)

Thor finishes up some surgery but leaves the cleaning up for his colleagues, who grouse at Blake leaving (oh, sorry at this time, Thor is still using the Don Blake alter ego) for them to clean up despite being the best surgeon ever.

Captain America, already in the Avengers library and in full uniform, is wondering if he will have the courage to look Hank in the eye even though it is the most difficult thing he’s ever done. More difficult than watching Bucky die on that rocket? More difficult than giving up your Captain America identity to become Nomad? Well, we all chose our own cross to bear.

Speaking of crosses to bear, a few hours earlier, Janet hasn’t seen Hank since they came home three days earlier. She decides to go check on him in the lab. Finding the door locked, she shrinks down and squeezes in to the door crack to discover Hank putting in the final touches of programming of the robot, which will allow it to target each Avenger by their brain waves. Which it does as o soon as it senses Jan in the room. Hank is infuriated, Accusing Jan of spying on him. Hank explains he has built a robot called Salvation 1 and she’s going to help him test it out. It grabs Jan but her sting is useless against it. He explains it is built out of Adamantium. Ok, so according to the Marvel Database:

Creating even a small amount of Adamantium is astronomically expensive, and only a few people know the complete formula. Adamantium is created by mixing certain chemical resins together. The exact composition of these resins is a closely guarded secret of the United States government. When these resins are mixed and kept at a temperature of 1,500 degrees Fahrenheit, the resulting liquid can be cast or worked into a particular shape. After an eight minute 'flux period', the mixture sets and becomes solid regardless of temperature. Its molecular structure is extremely stable, and its shape can only be altered by precise molecular rearrangement.

So I don’t know how Hank had enough Adamantium lying around to build a 15 foot tall battle robot he just conceived three days prior. He designed Sal with a secret weak spot that will shut down the robot with one well-placed stinger shot, thus making him a hero when Sal attacks the Avengers. That’s the plan at least. But Janet won’t let him go through with it.

There it is.

On Jim Shooter’s website, he posted on March 29, 2011:

In that story (issue 213, I think), there is a scene in which Hank is supposed to have accidentally struck Jan while throwing his hands up in despair and frustration—making a sort of “get away from me” gesture while not looking at her.  Bob Hall, who had been taught by John Buscema to always go for the most extreme action, turned that into a right cross!  There was no time to have it redrawn, which, to this day has caused the tragic story of Hank Pym to be known as the “wife-beater” story.

So, henceforth Hank Pym is known as a wife beater.

Let’s cut to the court-martial proceedings. Captain America states his case: Yellowjacket shot a hostile in the back. Hank has never been know to act cowardly so the act was a case of misjudgment. It is tempting to write off as a mistake since any one of them can make the same error.

However, as an Avenger they cannot. An error by any one of them can result in the loss of lives. They have a tremendous responsibility and thus must judge themselves harshly.

I bet one can look back at previous issues of the Avengers, or Iron Man or Cap, or Thor and find situations and scenarios where they’ve all made costly mistakes like Hank Pym. Alas, this can’t turn into a retrospective of the Avengers.

Iron Man asks Hank how he pleads or if he wishes to defend himself. Hank pleads not guilty. His argument is that although his mistake may have seemed treacherous but he wondered if Cap ever considered treachery from the enemy. His actions may have actually saved lives! Perhaps because the enemy was a beautiful woman, perhaps Cap liked her! Like Liked her! That’s why Cap is upset, because Hank hurt her!

Everyone is feeling second-hand embarrassment at this point. Iron Man asks him to stop. Hank asks Janet to back up her story. She lowers her sunglasses and reveals a shiner. Thor is shocked, wondering if Hank actually hit her. Hank goes for the remote control to summon Salvation 1. Janet pleads to him to not do it.

Sal bursts through the wall (kind of hilariously, no disrespect to Bob Hall, but considering the statement Shooter made on his blog post, about Hall being trained by Buscema to always go for the drama, it kind of comes off as comedic. Iron Man being flipped upside down, Tigra kind of in a Bugs Bunny pose, Yellowjacket exclaiming “Ah!” In faux surprise.

When Thor strikes it with his Mjolnir without any effect, Janet let’s them know it’s made out of (very expensive and rare) Adamantium and Hank built it and designed it to destroy them. Hank realizes Sal is way too brutal and may actually defeat everyone. He goes for the super secret shut off switch but Sal throws him against the wall. Sal grabs Hank in his giant pincer claws, crushing him when Janet runs up and shoots the switch with her stinger, deactivating Salvation 1.

Hank, shamefully leaves.

[shiratorizawatxt]

What are the misconceptions Shirabu hears about himself and hates? ajskaka I hope that makes sense

Are you trying to make my cold heart feel things???? Because it’s working.

Shirabu isn’t one to take things personally and the misconceptions he hears whispered about him in the locker room or school halls usually don’t affect him much. He prefers to take a logical standpoint and if he has facts to disprove said misconceptions, they don’t get to him. But he knows he has faults that he’s not proud of and sometimes he doesn’t have the ammo to back himself up.

Misconception 1: Shirabu is angry and mean all the time.

That’s just gossip and it doesn’t bother Shirabu much at all. If they bothered to get to know him AT ALL, they would know he’s not. On the court, he’s focused and determined and for him, that often tends to come off as aggression. If he’s really into something, he gets very intense. However he sees absolutely nothing wrong with this as his intensity brings a lot of results. Off the court, he’s not nearly as intense. When he gets fired up or provoked, sure, but he doesn’t live his life angry. That would be exhausting. He has conversations and talks to people in an inside voice and is usually very polite unless someone disrespects him.

Misconception 2: Shirabu only came to Shiratorizawa because of his man-crush on Ushijima.

In truth, this isn’t entirely false, Shirabu is almost ashamed to say. It’s true that watching Ushijima play was the reason he wanted to come to the powerhouse school, but more than that, he admired Ushijima’s strength rather than him as a person and wanted the feeling on the court that he got while watching: that everything was under control because nothing could overcome the raw power of the team, specifically the spikers. That being said, who doesn’t have a man-crush on Ushijima??? [Shirabu stalks off, blushing and indignant] Good job, we done called out his gay ass. He can’t argue with that and will instead choose to glare from the closet.

Misconception 3: Semi is a more talented setter than Shirabu.

This is a common comment but not one that bothers Shirabu all that much, especially since sitting down with Semi and talking out their differences. Their playing styles, in Shirabu’s opinion are different but neither is better or worse than the other. Shirabu is personally confident that his style with high, simple tosses is the best style for this team and the fact that he is the starting setter proves his point. Washijou wouldn’t have put him on the court if he didn’t agree. In addition, many of the people saying this against him haven’t seent he full range of his abilities. Because the simplistic style is what he deemed necessary for Shiratorizawa’s team doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of quick tosses, setter dumps, and other flashier moves. Before changing his style, he used to do a lot more of that and from time to time in warm up exercises and practice games where he’s not teamed with Ushijima, he’ll let that beast back out and show off that he’s capable of holding a team up even without a superace. Compared with Semi, Shirabu thinks his personal strength comes from reliability and while Semi’s presence on the court is much more conspicuous, Shirabu is confident in his own abilities and his position as starting setter.

Misconception 4: Shiratorizawa would have won against Karasuno if he hadn’t been there.

This. This one is more difficult for him to hear. Because he doesn’t have much evidence to back himself up. He doesn’t know if he’s the reason Shiratorizawa didn’t make it to nationals for the first time in years and isn’t sure if a different setter would have brought a different result. Shirabu doesn’t fight back against this claim, unsure of his own position and instead, giving in. It very well might have been his fault and even if it wasn’t, he carries some of the guilt anyway. Statistically, Karasuno is a weaker team and something had to have gone wrong for Shiratorizawa to have lost. Shirabu hears just as often that their loss wasn’t anyone’s fault and Karasuno got lucky and they were a good opponent, but it doesn’t stop the gears from turning in Shirabu’s head, wondering what went wrong. Maybe it was a collection of mistakes they all made, but he’s the setter, the control tower, the one making all the real decisions on the court. If they lost, it was most likely his fault. Someday, he may get over this, decide he wasn’t at fault or decide he is to blame just as much as anyone else and not a bit more but for now, it does haunt him. He does wonder if the outcome would’ve been different had Semi been the starting setter or if he had made even one decision differently, if Shiratorizawa would hold another national title. But he doesn’t know. And sometimes he can’t stop thinking about it. So he keeps working hard at practice, wondering if it’s true, the whispers he hears behind his back, and hoping that if he practices hard enough, it’ll be different next time.

[kingofthenorth49]

New Year, Old Me

The smell of breakfast cooking is filling the house, my dogs is at my feet chewing on his indestructible dollar store ball as happy as a clam (ed note. – how do we know clams are actually happy?) and 2021 has begun with sunshine streaming in every window filling the day with the promise of a bright and prosperous future. Even Gloria is in the kitchen singing to the music playing on the radio.

Then there’s the 30 centimeters of snow forecast for tomorrow. Fack.

I love my Christmas vacations. We took a cruise for Christmas two years ago, I’ll never do that again. Not just the competition with 1300 little off spring for wifi when we were trying to sell a house Christmas eve, there’s just something about doing a whole lot of nothing for 10 days that really appeals to the inner child in me.

I’ve played countless hours of Minecraft. I’ve watched hours of videos. I’ve read, I’ve cooked. We’ve talked about whatr’s next, what’s been, and who. We’ve played with the dog, a lot.

The only thing missing was the kids. I miss them dear

Christmas was awesome for it just being the three of us. We did that on purpose.

2020 was a challenging year in many respects. We lost Ozzy in June, that was a major life event for us both that neither of us saw coming. Then there’s the plandemic, yes, tin foil hat in fully bloom, the politicians of the world are wrecking society over a bad flu. Even politicians in the 1918 pandemic weren’t as incompetent. As someone who has managed risk my entire career I can unequivocally say they fucked this up, likely on purpose. I say on purpose because there’s no way the stupid could be this collective. The costs to society based on the actions of our elected officials over the past year have damaged mankind (not peoplekind moron) and will have lingering effects for decades.

I just can’t grasp the level of incompetence I’ve witnessed in our governments, but I’m not surprised.

2020 professionally was one of my best years ever, mind you I worked a lot, but I’ve never been afraid of that. From mid-March until July I worked every single day from Moncton, dealing with bad decisions made by governments every single day trying to keep the country going. Imagine dealing with hundreds of governments, none who talk to each other and correlate activities. It’s an epic shitshow every day, but it’s honest work.

I’ve met some amazing new friends this year, and we’ve developed some new relationships. I’ve watched some of my team members grow exponentially, as well as watched some of my peers hit their stride. It’s awesome to see people at their best, and knowing you had a hand in helping them get to that place. That’s what I live for now.

Living back home has been a major challenge for me, not some much for Gloria. We came back for her, she wanted to be home and now she is. Life is good here, don’t get me wrong, but I hate living in the fishbowl. People talk too much and invest themselves in others’ business way too often, it’s that part of living here I don’t like. Everywhere else we’ve lived no one cared what kind of car you drove or where you went on vacation, but down east it’s blood sport. The difference for me this time round is I just don’t care what they think or say, their opinion means nothing. Unless I’m paying you for advice, I’ll give it the due consideration it deserves. The day I learned that was likely the day my life changed for the better, and I remember it well.

I’m starting to enjoy living home again, but not for the reasons you’d think.

I’m enjoying the familiarity of people again, the people who interact with us at our favorite restaurants, stopping and chatting with people at Superstore, knowing what is really going on in our community. Those are the kind of things you miss living the lifestyle we did for 20 years bouncing all over the globe. We missed that connection with community.

We are enjoying making our current house our home and putting our touches on it. It’s been a labor of love because as my realtor Cathy said the day we were doing the home inspection and I had a parade of contractors lined up on the street, there’s no way I’ll ever get my money back out of this place. Nope, I won’t. But I’m ok with that. I grew up watching this house and wanting it, now that I own it it’s fun to bring it back to it’s original beauty and improving it’s functionality. Plus we have awesome neighbors and everyone looks out for one another.

I like my job. I like my boss. I still enjoy what I do, and that’s a positive. I’ve been very fortunate to have worked with amazing people throughout my career, but over the last year dealing with a pandemic, 18,000 employees across dozens of companies and multiple jurisdictions who move the goal posts daily, I’m very thankful for the team I work with are all A players. We accomplished more this year than I would have ever thought possible given the circumstances.

Then there’s politics. Relax, you knew it was coming, I’ve not ranted very often about anything that doesn’t at least brush up against politics.

2020 was a political shitshow of epic proportions. In Canada we have a buffoon as Prime Minister who is selling out this country to communist China. He’s not even hiding it anymore. The WE scandal should have affronted every single Canadian and we should have marched on Ottawa to demand his resignation and incarceration.

But we didn’t. So we get what we deserve.

In the USA Trump lost a crooked election, and no, you cannot convince me otherwise. It was a surgical strike in key swing states carried out with militaristic effort. I watched hearings in Wisconsin, Illinois and Georgia. There was enough fraud to cost Trump the election. But am I upset? Yes, a bit. Will I get over it? Of course. The democratic party has no morals, the ends justify the means and they had no qualms about using deception and fraud to elect a senile career politician who has accomplished nothing in a 47 year career on capitol hill, one who is racist (not an opinion, there’s his words in video and print) and can’t remember what state he is in most of the time.

And they elected him with more votes than Obama? Seriously?

The entire election reeks. Thousands of consecutive ballots, all votes for Joe, with no down ticket selections. Consecutive. Let me say it again for the kids in the back. Thousands of consecutive ballots for Joe with no down ticketing. (Down ticketing is voting for a set of party candidates, so President, Judges, etc on the ballot). Can you even begin to grasp the statistical probability of that?   Let’s just say the odds of having that many consecutive ballots all for just Joe are astronomical, kind of like getting hit by lightening in your basement on your birthday while having a heart attack during a solar eclipse.

Even that’s more statistically likely.

But at the end of the day, if congress accepts the electors then Biden will be my president. I’m not that stupid or arrogant to say otherwise, although I know in my heart of hearts he stole it. But that’s irrelevant, and he has to look at himself in the mirror every morning just like I do.

What I have learned in the past year is local politics are more important than national politics, and we need to move towards more local control of our resources versus Provincial or Federal control. I’m excited for our new town council and have great hope they will energize this town, as we are poised on the precipice of opportunity. People are relocating here from all over, buying homes sight unseen. Why? Because its small and safe. That’s my theory anyway. With the gig economy, many workers can work from anywhere (I did it for years) and why live in a congested city with all the issues and expense that come with it when you can live like a king in small town Nova Scotia. For the first time in my life people WANT to move here, not away. That’s a huge opportunity that we need to build on.

Anyway, I guess I’m trying to say that while 2020 had it’s challenges, for us there is a lining in the cloud that we shouldn’t overlook. We ended the year on a high note with the perfect New Years eve for the three of us, a few drinks, a cigar by the fire, and McDonalds. Yep, 2020 didn’t deserve anything more than a McChicken and fires.

So those are my final thoughts for 2020, the year has now passed and 2021 has arrived, full of promise, hope, and excitement. What you will make of 2021 lies within you, and you alone. You can choose to climb a mountain or read a book, but all I ask of you is you help us maintain the ability to have the freedom to choose. That is my only fear going into the new year is that we are allowing our freedoms to be taken away at an alarming pace, with no sign of resistance. That’s not a good thing. Once your freedoms are gone, you won’t easily get them back.

Happy New Year folks, its going to be amazing. Either that or the murder hornets show up and then it’s over.

Jim Out.

[loudlytransparenttrash]

This Week Within Our Colleges: Part 15

Stockton University has removed a bust of its namesake, Richard Stockton, because the Revolutionary War patriot who was among the signers of the Declaration of Independence owned a slave. The school explained that the statue will eventually return to campus, with an accompanying display discussing his slave owning past. Bryn Mawr College is also separating itself from one of its former presidents, Martha Thomas, a leader of the women’s suffragist movement, because she held racist views. The college will no longer use the names of buildings on campus bearing her name. Meanwhile, University of Maryland’s marching band will no longer play the official state song of Maryland at school sporting events because of its ties to the Confederacy.

Wake Forest University will hold numerous “teach-ins” about race and racism in America, inspired by the creation of a “Charlottesville Syllabus” by a group of University of Virginia graduate students. The group which created the syllabus, sent this sweet offer: “The GSCL welcomes new graduate student members who are committed to prioritizing the needs of students most affected by the terrors of white supremacy.” Wake senior Matthew Connor said the workshops “expose many of the facets of a racist society which fuel and support white nationalism, from the Confederate statues to continued legacies of segregation." Wait, black activists demanding segregated housing, segregated graduations, segregated spaces, segregated meetings, segregated student groups, segregated protests and entire school segregation isn’t continuing legacies of segregation but a statue is? Ooookay. 

We’ve heard of microaggressions, we’ve heard of macroaggressions, we’ve even heard of microassaults, now there’s a new aggression unassuming white people are inflicting on people of color: invisibility microaggression. Two professors, from Bucknell University and the University of Rhode Island, claim they are the first academics to argue that “invisibility” is a “common form of microaggression” experienced by non-whites. The professors made their discovery after interviewing just 13 women of color working at “predominantly white institutions.” From their “research,” they found one of the main examples of invisibility microaggressions is when there’s more white skinned people around them than people with the same skin color as they have... Does this not prove how desperate these people have become to keep themselves feeling oppressed? They know they are all treated equally in society, so they have to come up with new ways of being victims of whites. Imagine the advancements we could make as a country if we just got on with our lives. 

Ole Miss shut down a Greek Life retreat over a discarded banana peel last week. The retreat came to a crashing halt after a student found a “lone, fresh-looking banana peel” up in a tree, thrown there by a student who couldn’t be bothered finding a trashcan. Despite the banana-tosser’s profuse apologies and agreeing to become better educated, students of color interpreted it as a racist insult and “broke into tears.” “The conversation carried on, and tensions continued to rise. White and black members of the Ole Miss Greek community shared their views on the day’s events and race relations in general but the conversation began to move in an unhealthy direction,” one student reported. “The massive discussion session wrapped up as more and more students stood and left the room, some in tears, some in frustration. The remainder of the retreat was canceled later that night.” Alexa Lee Arndt, interim director of Fraternity and Sorority Life, sent a letter to all campus chapter presidents, explaining “many students were hurt, frightened, and upset.”

Staying at Ole Miss, senior Francisco Hernandez bemoans that tailgates at his university are perpetuating racial oppression because of the presence of the Mississippi state flag. Reflecting on the university’s recent home opener, Hernandez says that Ole Miss’s tailgating area is a hostile environment because the state’s flag includes the Confederate battle cross. The flag, Hernandez argues, risks turning the tailgate area “into a giant, live-action Confederate monument.” Despite admitting “scenes of white tailgaters carrying flags and welcoming black tailgaters into their tents being common,” Hernandez says the “environment was unwelcoming to minorities” and “racial tensions” were high because of “the uncomfortable and divisive presence of the Mississippi state flag all over the tailgating grounds.” He warns, “Immediate action is necessary to avoid it turning into a giant, live-action Confederate monument.” 

Fordham University has launched an investigation after students were reduced to tears by the screening of a video that debunks the 1 in 5 myth during a Resident Assistant training on sexual assault. Dean Christopher Rodgers showed two separate videos, the first was a trailer for “The Hunting Ground” which uses the 1 in 5 myth to promote the idea of rape culture on campus while the second was a PragerU video disputing the statistic. The school’s Department of Public Safety Coordinator made a statement on the matter, noting that many students “were in tears” after the PragerU video, upset by its claim that there is “no evidence that rape is a cultural norm” on college campuses. “During this video, many more students left the room, many of them women. They were in tears,” the school’s Coordinator wrote, noting that she herself was “shaking” after the video finished playing. Yes, they’re literally crying over being told they aren’t in imminent, mortal danger on campus.

Beloit College recently published a “#GetWoke” syllabus in an effort to encourage students to familiarize themselves with the anti-Trump resistance. The syllabus was created by the school’s diversity office for its upcoming “#GetWoke lecture series,” providing a “general overview of white supremacy, fascism and racism.” While advocating the benefits of protesting Donald Trump, it encourages students to listen to protest songs such as KRS One’s “Sound of Da Police,” or read texts like “Social Justice Organizing” for inspiration. Among the resources included are a “Syllabus for White People to Educate Themselves,” and another on how “All Monuments Must Fall.” When did universities stop educating and start indoctrinating? 

The University of Wisconsin, La Crosse has been funding an ongoing research project that seeks to "challenge straight white college men" to become "social justice activists.” “Unless challenged effectively during college, heterosexual white men may leave college no more adept at functioning in a diverse world than when they entered,” the professors running the program warn. They encourage other white male professors to intervene in “male spaces” on campus, specifically advising them to target “fraternities” and “athletic teams” and drop the hint about “exploring identity, challenging privilege and developing responsibility for acting in solidarity with marginalized peers.”

The University of Missouri is hosting weekly meetings exclusively for “students, staff, and faculty of color” to discuss “skills for surviving and resisting hate” at the “Predominantly White Institution.” The "Healing from Racial Injustices" group will meet every Friday to share their experiences and talk about ways of overcoming and healing from the whiteness which surrounds them. The purpose of the healing group “is to provide a space to validate and affirm one another while processing macro and microaggressions.” 

A University of Iowa professor claims that "white fragility is a widespread phenomena especially since the 2016 election.” In her article posted under Whiteness and Education, Professor Leslie Ann Locke suggested that “since the 2016 presidential election, it has become almost unbearably clear that white neurosis and white fragility are widespread phenomena. Describing “white neurosis” as a condition in which white people react “defensively” when they’re reprimanded for their privilege, Locke argues that such a “neurosis” corresponds with “white fragility,” a phrase describing the ways in which white people “freak out” when asked to reflect on their privilege. Locke claims that white people who grew up poor “feel a need to compete” for a sense of marginalization with racial minorities when their struggles could never possibly be equivalent. Additionally, she argues that white people allow and protect white supremacy.

The Rochester Institute of Technology recently encouraged its students to masturbate so they will feel less inclined to commit sexual assault during one of its freshman orientation programs. The slide reminded students to "Think of Roo!" - an acronym for "rub one out,” to seemingly help them overcome their urge to rape. It proudly explains “self-gratification can prevent sexual assault.”

The University of Nebraska-Lincoln has reassigned a crazed lecturer to non-teaching duties after she harassed and hurled insults at students who were recruiting for the school’s Turning Point USA chapter. Several university employees, including Courtney Lawton, carried signs and called the students Nazis. Yes, college staff were protesting and calling conservative students Nazis. Lawton was recorded on camera yelling “Neo-fascist Becky right here. Wants to destroy public schools. Hates DACA kids. No KKK” while giving the middle finger to the camera.

I wasn’t going to post this next one as I originally didn’t believe it was real. As part of a new “Social Justice Collective Weekly” newsletter at the University of Colorado-Colorado Springs, an article asks “Should Veterans Be Banned From UCCS?” They explain, “Many veterans openly mock the ideas of diversity and safe spaces for vulnerable members of society - the LGBTQQI2SAA community.” This isn’t a keyboard mashup, it’s a real thing. The article goes on further to make its case for banning veterans, saying the military is a white supremacist organization and veterans are typically right-wing extremists. 

Black and Latino student groups at the University of Florida recently protested a plan to house their organizations in one building, saying it would erase and marginalize their black and brown bodies and their cultures at the predominantly white institution. The university recently published a blueprint to build a U-shaped building that would house both the Institute of Black Culture and the Institute of Hispanic-Latino Culture. The two groups would each get their own wing of the building and simply share a walkway and elevator. But members of the Institute of Black Culture and the Institute of Hispanic-Latino Culture expressed fury at the plan. “Combining IBC and La Casita is not only working to erase the histories of the black and Latinx communities at UF, but also to further disregard the needs and concerns of students of color within a predominantly white institution,” one of the students explained. 

As Stephen King’s ‘It’ gets released today, one Boston University lecturer, Regina Hansen, has suggested a different storyline for the audience to focus on: the dominance of straight, white masculinity that pervades the tale. In her published article, Hansen delves into on-screen depictions of King’s work, as she argues that his “white male underdog characters” achieve their heroic qualities “through the marginalisation of female characters, black characters, gay characters and characters with disabilities.” She adds the inclusion of mostly Caucasian, heterosexual, and non-physically disabled protagonists “can be vexing, especially for non-white, female or queer people” and it also “fails to challenge traditional concepts of hegemonic masculinity.”

The Society for Social Studies of Science wants English to stop being considered ‘the common language’ as it "send a message of insulation and parochialism to the world" as “xenophobia and nationalism are on the rise.” “While English has become favored in communications and networking across the globe, it is the official language of just a handful of countries, most prominently the United States of America and the United Kingdom, and the current policies of these two countries send a message of explicitly threatening the importance of human difference.”

Students at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst are in an uproar after a previously “gender-inclusive” bathroom was re-designated as female. Director of Residence Education Jean MacKimmie explained in an email prior to the decision that the school was lawfully required to make the change as the state’s plumbing code requires that all multi-stall bathrooms be designated as either male or female. MacKimmie also explained 135 other campus bathrooms and 122 residence hall restrooms have been designated as genderless. Students were still outraged and have launched a campaign to protest the decision, attempting to be relentless against those behind the change. One sassy little trooper, Ethan Gourlay, plans to continue to break the rules and enter the female bathroom. “Having to choose between men’s and women’s rooms is oppressive and uncomfortable. I intend to use both because gender is a lie.”

The Novo Foundation, an organization focused on women, recently awarded the City College of New York $1.2 million for a program to help "women of color" not become engineers, scientists or anything worthy, but to be "activist scholars." The program promises to “train young women of color from both immigrant and U.S. based minority communities” with the goal to “build stronger activist movements.” While organizers of the program insist that it "does not discriminate on race or gender," they struggle to clarify how exactly a program exclusively for "women of color," does not discriminate against race or gender.

Being asked your last name is offensive these days, according to George Mason University. Teachers were told to avoid using the term “last name” along with a slew of other phrases, such as “freshman” and “it is easy to imagine.” The guide also advised to include a diversity statement in their syllabi and ask students for the pronoun that “agrees with their gender identity and expression.” It also urged to ensure their syllabi are “written in non-sexist, gender-inclusive terms,” suggesting to replace ‘mankind’ with ‘humankind’ and ‘freshman’ with ‘first-year student,’ and to avoid Eurocentrism, use ‘family name’ rather than ‘last name.’ Another term deemed as excluding others was “everyone knows,” as it may exclude those who indeed don’t know. 

A University of Tampa professor suggested that Texans deserve the fallout from Hurricane Harvey because of their support for Donald Trump in the 2016 election. “I don’t believe in instant Karma but this kinda feels like it for Texas,” Professor Ken Storey wrote. “Hopefully this will help them realize the GOP doesn’t care about them.” One of Storey’s followers responded to the tweet by noting that there are “lots of good people in Texas,” which he replies “Well, the good people there need to do more to stop the evil their state pushes. I’m only blaming those who support the GOP there.” He later goes on to say Trump voters in Florida deserve the same fate. 

Meanwhile, more than thirty professors from Harvard and other universities were arrested yesterday after blocking traffic during a street protest in support of DACA. 

[jemarmeau-blog]

Middle School: A Warped Reality

2/10/17

I went to one of the most affluent public schools in the country--I say that without looking at any statistics or national rankings. Our PTA raised an exuberant amount of money, we were located in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in The Triangle, and parents poured money into their children's' educations like water. The school was overwhelmingly white for the metro in which it was located, and anyone outside of the neighborhood was a de facto pariah of the school. It was very much segregated by terms other than race--by family and class. After three years of daily life at the school, I came to accept it as the reality of most public schools in the area--now being at one of the most diverse high schools in the state, I see how wrong I was. It was like being in a mirage for three years of your life with no contact with to the real, breathing world.

To keep anonymity, I will use the fictitious name Fairview Middle School in lieu of the actual name of the middle school. If you're familiar with WCPSS or know me personally, then you'll know exactly what school I'm talking about.

Fairview was located in (wealthy) North Raleigh, just inside the beltline in a neighborhood full of legal eagles and high southern pride. There were a lot of monograms going around the area, stitched stupidly onto pastel lunch boxes and clothes. The community was well established, and those who lived in it knew what they were doing; there was an elementary school across the street from the middle school, with a prominent high school down the road. In a way, North Raleigh was what Cary can never achieve. It's long-established, filled with respected suburbs, and a strong sense of community; Cary retains an insatiable hunger for these qualities which it will never have.

What's especially odd about the school is its location as a magnet. While magnet programs are meant to diversify communities and draw in students from a broad region, Fairview did none of this. There were very few buses bringing in kids from surrounding areas, in comparison to other magnet schools located in Southeast Raleigh. We weren't academic, nor were we athletic; we just had the money and the genuine establishment that other schools lacked. Fairview kids carried themselves in an unmistakenly WASPy manner, with a certain sway that we had all adopted by the end of our three-year run. I would succumb to this body language, pretending to not care and chewing gum all the time.

I wasn't the only one to notice my change into an apathetic, high-nosed pre-teen. It wasn't so much that I (or the other kids) were pretentious, it's just that they were raised in a very sheltered, rigid community; I adopted their body language. It was all very odd--for my first year at the school, In helplessly compared them to the citizens of the Capitol of Panem in The Hunger Games. That's how foreign they were to me--I had never quite seen a group of people like them before. They wore bright, pastel clothes; they had wide, horse-like smiles; their hair was always brushed and long; they all looked unnaturally similar, to the point when I questioned if they were inbred; they were overwhelmingly Republican, with exception to a few people. I--with my earth-tone clothes and lack of any self-awareness--always felt clumsy around them. I wasn't super athletic, nor poised or wealthy. My parents weren't lawyers; they were blue-collared workers from Connecticut. I didn't go to the camps they went to, and we hadn't been raised in the same social circles.

There was depression. At the time I wasn't consciously aware of it,  but it was definitely there. I would come home and feel disgusting, and somehow guilty for diluting what I thought to be their perfect world. Because somehow, in someway in some world, I had ruined their middle school lives and lowered the reputation of Fairview by being there. I was totally out of place.

In hindsight, I think about how more abnormal a place I was in at the time. I would tell people how great Fairview was, and how much I loved it and how the school was so perfect for me. It was all talk; a facade. I remember going to my room after school and crying hopelessly for the first few weeks. I'd be miserable in the mornings and I'd just cry and cry and cry. What's worse is that no one else knew about it. I never dared to break down in front of my parents or brother, and continued to tell them of my infatuation of the school. And I would just come home from school and break down and cry more and think about the world and my place in it, and how much I hated the world and that school. I remember exercising excessively in an effort to be more athletic and being fortunate to have been born a boy--parents don't expect their sons to be body conscious.

After a while crying turned into sleeping. I would just come home and do my homework as fast as I could and get ready for tomorrow, and then nap and stare at the ceiling until my eyelids couldn't hold the weight of staying awake. My whole friend group was made out of people I didn't care about, and lunches were spent with me claiming my false admiration for the passions of these people. I left sixth grade thanking Him for the coming of summer, but also dreading my return in the seventh grade.

And then something changed.

At our seventh grade orientation, I was walking with my father when I came across two of the "non-preppy" kids at my school (it wasn't totally uniform, but was very close to it). They waved to me and greeted me with genuine eagerness, asking me what classes I was taking for the coming year. I can honestly say that this was the turning point in which I dropped my nihilism from sixth grade. Seventh grade was my year--the year I took back my identity.

I had great teachers and a new set of confidence, and I found myself reaching out to people I actually enjoyed spending time with. I gained real friends and found myself really knowing most of the people at the school. Somehow I managed to break through the golden faces of those who hailed from the surrounding neighborhood and found connections with them. It was an odd experience. I felt alienated yet embedded in the school at the same time. My "team" (which each grade was divided into, except the eighth grade) also managed to encompass a majority of the kids from outside of the neighborhood. By the end of seventh grade, I had known a majority of the school by name and never walked alone in the hallways. It was a big transition from the previous year.

Eighth grade was something else. Most of my "team" from seventh grade weren't in classes with me, and I went through a long-time argument with a new kid which lasted until the end of the summer. On lighter notes, it was a great time for soul-searching. I became fixated on the opportunity of electing our country's first woman president and became infatuated with the idea of feminism (and defending it as apart from "femini-nazism").

By this time, my grade had been thirsty for new drama, as the school started to feel smaller and people started to stop caring about their appearances. I remember one girl had done fellatio to a boy from a rival school at a country club. Her friend took pictures of the event and showed them to kids around our school. While I never saw the photos myself, I remember watching the girl displaying them to a throng of teenage girls in the hallways. People made ribald nicknames about the girl who took part in the act, and her reputation was basically ruined for the rest of her school year. She was always nice to me.

Another victim of my school was a Jewish girl in my orchestra, who fell subject to constant taunting by her seventh period. As there were barely any Jewish kids at Fairview in the first place, a number of the "neighborhood" boys would take her religion to torment. I remember on Hitler's birthday (4/20, ironically) people kept on telling her that it was her birthday, and she finally understood what they were saying. She cried frequently in our class.

My first day of high school amazed me. No longer was the class an agglomeration of identical rich kids from inside the beltline. My first thought--which I admit isn't the best--was: wow. There are so many Asian people here. As I continue through my high school career, I can't help but notice how different I thought the world was as a result of the people who made up my middle school. I didn't resent them in any way, however, they were very out of touch with the rest of the area. I found two quotes from The Great Gatsby which encompass the preps' paradigms at Fairview;

"I'm glad it's a girl. And I hope she'll be a fool - that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool" It was a rare sight to see a girl raise her hand because she wanted to in our class--I don't remember a time when girls really voiced their opinions in class, unless being called upon by the teacher. Whether that was how they were brought up or not, I don't know; I just know that they were demure for my three years at the school. Quote number two:

"They were careless people, Tom and Daisy. They smashed up things and people and retreated back into their money and their vast carelessness, and let other people clean up the mess they had made." This goes back to the pictures and the Hitler-facetiousness. Not all of them were careless, but money can bring cloudiness to people's judgment. As the parents of these kids, they have a responsibility to raise their children to not abuse the money and the security in which they have been blessed with.

I don't know everything about the pictures. Rumor had it that after getting suspended for spreading child pornography on the school campus, the girl's parents took her to their beach house for the tenure. But that's just a rumor, right? There was definitely a distance between the outsiders and the neighborhood kids.

I'm treading murky waters here at high school. While I'm definitely much happier--genuinely, without the fake smiles or erroneous praising--I need to find my place again. The atmosphere was completely different. I'm back to that alien planet. I went from being one of the smartest people in my school to just making it if I'm lucky. I don't want to establish my life in some type of history, in the way that young people often try to do. I want to live it, not record it.

In doing this comes a challenge. I was called fake for the first time a couple weeks ago. My family thinks's I'm an absolute snob, and that I've lost my real self in middle school; I can't disagree with the latter. But what I miss most is knowing people. I miss being able to not be friends with someone, but just enough to pick up the conversation in the hallway about politics or a bitchy teacher, petty school drama, etc.; I miss that. Hopefully, I can reach a broad basis at my new school as I did at Fairview; not having a TV show may hurt this new aspiration, as it was quite easily last year.

Until next time, preps of Fairview. Rich kids of Raleigh. You'll always be so dear to me, yet distant at the same time. Just know that materialism isn't the world and that spreading pictures of your friend doing fellatio isn't the best idea.

-JM

[avengersassemble-fics]

You Go, I Go (Steve Roger x Reader x Bucky Barnes)

Previous Chapter

Link to Master Post

Word Count (2,467)

AN: Time skip with saucy shit

Every day the sun rises in the East, and sets in the West - without fail. Each day seemed to get a bit easier adjusting to living in the 21st century, and living with the burden of being out of place from another time. Luckily, this burden was also shared with Steve. Four years had passed, and Steve Rogers continued with the Avengers as Captain America, also known as Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. You, on the other hand, served most of your time in Washington, D.C. running the HQ HUB (courtesy of Director Fury) and would make fun of Steve for that.

“Who would’ve thought you’d be labeled as one of the “Earth’s Mightiest Heroes”?”

“Funny, (Y/N).”

Leaving Steve in New York was probably one of the hardest things you had to do, second to seeing Bucky get on that train to leave for the war. It was poetic, the same station, yet the roles were switched - you were leaving and Steve was staying. He was happy of the opportunity you were getting, but then again you were his friend, the only person who really understood him. That was six months ago, and soon after Steve was transferred to Washington and you both immediately met up for coffee.

“I didn’t think you’d follow me that quickly,” you joked, paying for your to go cup and Steve chuckled.

“It was too hard without you,” he said, nodding his thanks to the female barista who batted her lashes at him.

“I could say the same thing.”

You cracked your neck, pushing the comm into your ear and hit enter into your phone, walking around the room of monitors and hearing the phone ring dully. You stopped at one, behind another Agent who was listening intently to the radio, trying to decipher the chatter, when finally someone answered.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite agent,”

“Hey Nat,” you greeted, leaning closer to glance down at the agents notes, “I have something for you.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It’s a hostage situation, so we’re sending you, Captain Rogers, and the STRIKE team. Extraction in half an hour.”

“I’l get Capsicle.”

“Thank you, Nat,” you pressed your ear piece to end the call and sighed - it was going to be a long day.

“The target is a mobile satellite launch platform: The Lemurian Star. It was sending up their last payload when pirates took them, ninety-three minutes ago.” you communicated to the STRIKE team, who were all on a Quinjet preparing for the mission you were sending them on. You watched the radar from D.C., and so was everyone else. The Lumerian Star was dead stopped in the middle of the ocean, and all demands were being ignored from the pirates. You still felt a bit uneasy, but you stoic demeanor fooled everyone in this room.

“Any demands?” Steve asked and you regained your focus.

“A billion and a half,” you answered.

“Why so steep?”

“Because it’s SHIELD,” Brock Rumlow answered for you, and you listened to the heated exchange.

“So it's not off course, it's trespassing,” Steve commented and you sighed.

“I’m sure Fury has a good reason,” Natasha tried to reason, filling her belt with necessities.

“You know, I’m getting a little tired of being Fury’s janitor,” Steve said quietly to his friend, and you heard every word, but still chose to not comment.

“Relax, it’s not that complicated,” Natasha reassured him. But you knew Steve too well, he was not happy with this intel. Steve huffed, looking back at Rumlow.

“How many pirates?”

“Twenty-five, top mercs, led by this guy. Georges Batroc,” he started to explain and you set your hands on your waist, “(Y/L/N)?”

“Ex-TGSE, Action Division,” you picked up your pad, skimming through your information on Batroc, “he's at the top of Interpol's "red notice". Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. This guy's got a rep for maximum casualties.”

“Hostages?” Steve asked you.

“Uh mostly techs, and one officer. Jasper Sitwell,” you answered and nodded, “we won’t have communication while you’re on that ship, and the drop is a minute out. Remember, SHIELD doesn’t negotiate with terrorists. Good luck everyone.”

Steve heard the line go out and he nodded, tightening his gloves, “Alright, I'm gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, you'll kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep aft, find the hostages, get them to life pods. Get 'em out. Let's go.”

Not even two hours later Steve Rogers was walking through the HUB and most likely heading up to see Fury. You heard about what had happened, and watched Steve with your eyes. You straightened up as he was about to pass you and his eyes flickered to you for a second - but it was enough to let you know one thing.

He was pissed.

You weren’t sure what happened between the time Steve went to Fury’s office and the time you were getting ready to leave, but as you were about to shoulder your bag, your phone buzzed and you glanced down.

Steve: Meet me at the museum?

You sighed, whatever happened between Steve and Fury probably did not go well. Anytime Steve needed to think, he headed to the museum to reminisce about the past, and when he’d ask you to go you had a feeling it was bad. You typed a reply and hit send.

On my way.

“A symbol to the nation. A hero to the world. The story of Captain America is one of honor, bravery and sacrifice.”

You had your hands pushed into your black jacket, the collar pressed against the naked skin of your neck as you followed the group around the tour as the voice spoke. Your heeled boots fell silently against the floor as you veered off from the group, coming up beside a figure looking at one particular Howling Commandos picture, a hat low to cover their eyes.

“Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling commando to give his life in service of his country.”

You finally stopped beside him, both of you ignoring the rest of the commentary, a reel playing of Steve and Bucky laughing over something, a detail you couldn’t quite remember, and you blinked back some tears. Everyday you wondered if Bucky looked down at you and was proud of what you were doing. You weren’t just trying to be strong for yourself, or for Steve, but for Buck. It started getting harder to put the ring he gave you onto your finger, and after awhile it moved to around your neck and onto a silver necklace. But it still felt like a thousand pounds everyday.

“Sometimes I wonder what it would be like with him here,” Steve started, watching the old film play on the screen. At this point, and interview with Peggy was playing, “what he would think about me now.”

“He’d be proud of you, Steve. No mater what you did he was proud.”

Steve smiled, looking down at his feet, “What Fury is doing is against everything SHIELD was built for, and I don’t agree with it. It isn’t the same, (Y/N).”

“I know,” you said quietly, watching his face and turning to face him, “but I do what I have to everyday to keep those original beliefs in place. I don’t know what you and Fury spoke about today - but I do think he’s trying to do the right thing, even if we don’t see it that way.. Our beliefs.. They’re so different.”

Steve let your words sink in, and he looked back up to the bio of Bucky before finally glancing down to you. He offered a small smile, “Did you want to go get dinner?”

“I’d love to.”

Steve and you walked nearly in step, and the warm air hit you both with the breeze. The sun was close to setting and Steve guided you towards his bike, his hand placed a the bottom of your back and nodding in a general direction, “My bike is that way.”

You felt like protesting, but knew it was a battle you would lose. You groaned quietly, “You better be treating me.”

Steve chuckled, knowing that you didn’t really like riding on his bike with him. As he neared his bike, he gripped the handle bars and swung his leg over, “If I asked you to dinner of course I’m treating.”

You couldn’t help but smile, and swung your leg over and sat behind him, and Steve started the bike, the engine roaring to life.

“I still don’t understand your infatuation with these things, all you do is throw them at someone,” you joked.

Steve couldn't help but laugh, kicking up the leg and settling his weight onto the bike, “That was one time.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his large torso and leaning against his back as he spun the bike around. You shielded yourself from the wind by laying your head against his body and Steve turned onto the road, his fingers resting on the throttle and brakes and as he drove to the destination on auto-pilot, his mind wondered.

“You do anything fun Saturday night?” Natasha pestered him as he was getting ready to jump out the plane for the drop, he was just closing his helmet and glanced her way.

“Started watching Star Trek with (Y/N).” he answered, looking back at the hatch door.

“You and your list,” she mocked him, a smirk on her face. Steve pushed the button to open the door and it slowly began to reveal the black night sky. He put his shield on his back as Nat continued, “You know, if you ask Kristen out, from Statistics, she'll probably say yes.”

“That’s why I don’t ask,” Steve called over his shoulder.

“Too shy or too scared?”

“Too busy!” Steve said walking backwards, before disappearing over the edge.

Steve glanced back at you as he slowly came to a stop, and shook his head, “I don’t see why you hate this bike so much.”

“Maybe because you’re driving?”

“Ouch,” Steve chuckled and he felt the smile form on your face through the fabric of his thin jacket.

“What about the nurse that lives across the hall from you? She seems kind of nice.”

“Secure the engine and then you can find me a date,” Steve warned her, and Nat grinned.

“I’m multitasking, unless you already had someone in mind.”

Steve was about to interject when Natasha disappeared over the railing of the stairs and the conversation ended just as soon as it started. But her comment never really escaped his mind. Even if it was hours ago, the next time he could get her alone he pulled her to the side as they were passing in the small hallway on the Quinjet.

“What did you mean?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she smiled at him and Steve glared a bit.

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Look Rogers, you make matchmaking pretty hard when it seems you’re already interested in someone, so just ask her out already.”

Steve shook his head, knowing exactly where she was going with this conversation, “We’re just friends.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I know your pasts, but it’s been 74 years. It’s okay. I’m sure Barnes would want you to be happy. Both of you.”

It had left him thinking, and for some reason, Steve felt that this bike ride, and this dinner “date” felt different to him in some way. Natasha was somewhat right, recently something in Steve had felt a bit different about you. Of course Natasha would notice, but even he didn’t until she pointed it out. 

You were his go to companion, spending almost every night together until you had to leave to go home, and take out turned to you both watching some sort of recommendation and arguing over favorite characters and plots. For Steve, you started to become what he depended on. 

But it also felt wrong. You were Buck’s gal.

But on the other hand, Natasha was right about one thing. He would’ve wanted Steve to be happy, and you did make him happy. This internal battle continued until he pulled up to your favorite joint, Brooklyn Pizzeria, and he pushed those thoughts deep down as he stopped the engine. You were quick to remove yourself from behind him and stand to stretch, and Steve focused on settling the bike and locking it up, but out of the corner of his eye he watched you ruffle your hair and smooth your jacket.

You were oblivious to Steve’s lingering eyes, and instead ran your fingers through your hair, “Come on old man, we’re gonna have to get the elderly special if you don’t hurry.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, standing from his bike and putting the keys into his pocket, “You do know we’re the same age, right?”

“Maybe, but I know it bothers you,” you teased and walked towards the door, Steve following and shaking his head.

“Alright if you had to choose your favorite Captain, who would it be?”

Steve thought about this for a few moments, going through all the episodes he had seen so far, and finally nodded, “Kirk, for sure.”

“Seriously?” you asked, completely surprised by his answer.

“I think he’s a good man.”

“But they literally have him with a new woman in every single episode!”

“Well then who is your favorite?”

You didn’t even hesitate, “Picard, hands down! His bald head and when he says ‘Make it so’? i dunno, it’s life changing.”

Steve and you laughed, for the first time in awhile you both were relaxed and contempt. You were completely oblivious to the thoughts running through Steve’s head all day, and he was going to keep it that way. Your friendship meant too much to tell you that he was starting to harbor “more than just friends” feelings. 

You moved to grab your phone and Steve raised a brow, “You’re leaving already?”

“It’s almost 11, Steve,” you replied, grabbing your shoes and sliding them on. Steve frowned, glancing at the clock he had on the table and you were right. It was pretty late, but he didn’t feel right letting you drive home this late. You looked exhausted, you had been dozing all night.

“Look, you’re exhausted, why not just take the guest bed?”

You stopped in your tracks and raised a brow, “Are you sure?”

Steve nodded, “Of course.”

You nodded, setting your jacket down and removing your shoes again, “Thanks, Steve, I’ll se you in the morning.”

Steve watched you walk into the guest room he had, and he released a sigh he had pent up. What was he going to do?

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7 Key Stats That Point to the Future of Marketing

I just read that in the year 2100, Nigeria will be the 2nd most populous country. And that by 2100, populations will plunge a lot across what we call the  “developed world” (hate that term – it’s so condescending isn’t it?)

Statistics can help us see into (and plan) for the future. This is true for life and one of my favorite things to do for marketing. Recently, we looked at quotes from CMOs and influencers on the future of marketing.

Now let’s look at some of the hard data. so you can plot the right marketing strategy for your team’s future.

Traditional market research often falls short when new technology and new ideas have the potential to become game-changers. With today’s tech-driven world, then, marketers must look for developments that are possible — and promise huge impact.

The future of marketing, it would seem, must include a futurist’s intuition, a dash of creativity, and the ability to see what can lie ahead. When it comes to marketing, fortune indeed favors the bold.

Quick Takeaways:

Diversity is not a political issue. It’s a fact. So open your culture to a diverse workforce, and leveraging that knowledge.

Optimize all your marketing for mobile, emphasizing geolocation and AI-enabled suggestions.

Keep an eye out for new trends and technologies that can streamline your marketing strategy.

Use these statistics as your springboard into innovation.

1. Millennials Will Not Compose 75% of the Future Workforce

Conventional wisdom has pounded the point home that by 2025 (or in some versions of the myth, by 2030), millennials will become three-fourths of the nation’s workforce. As Anita Lettink shows, that old saw is a bit of a myth.

Blame a few fuzzy data in a 2011 study. And the chorus of otherwise sensible publications — including PWC, Brookings, EY, Deloitte, Allianz, and the World Economic Forum, to name a few — echoed the tune.

Marketers glommed onto it, plotting their future strategy on its gospel truth. If you read marketing publications as much as I do, you’ve seen your fair share of blog posts, white papers, and videos that reference it.

Certainly, millennials will become a driving force in tomorrow’s workplace. However, they’ve already maxed out their presence in the workforce, as Lettink points out.

Generation Z, she shows, will rise in numbers among the nation’s workers. In fact, unless plenty of 65-plus workers buck today’s trend of staying on the job longer, millennials won’t likely even reach the 50 percent mark.

Image courtesy of Anita Lettink

For marketers, this myth-busting fact means that they’ll need to diversify their approach to reach every generation.

It makes my case for personalizing content, doesn’t it?

When you personalize content for every segment of your target customer base, you’ll be sure to hit the mark every time.

2. A Billion New Consumers in Emerging Countries Will Tip the CPG Market Balance

A McKinsey report predicts that the growth of consumer packaged goods (CPG) outside the traditional West foreshadows an overseas boom, particularly in Asia. With US soda brands bringing in over half their revenue from outside the country, other CPG brands have leaped into the fray.

Their collective revenue has caught the attention of investors, driving CPG stocks to outperform the S&P — and even high-tech industries, such as IT, telecom, and energy. With a 10-percent rise in shareholder returns over the past 25 years, this industry shows no sign of stopping.

In fact, CPG industry leaders have upped the ante on innovation, anticipating changes to maintain their lead. Their move outside the West continues that drive. With a billion new consumers emerging from non-Western, largely Asian, markets, it looks to be a savvy move.

Image courtesy of Visual Capitalist

Marketers would be wise to create content that appeals to Asian and other markets in emerging nations. Hiring locals who know the nuances of the language is critical to avoiding “lost-in-translation” moments.

Creating an internal culture that celebrates diversity across the global enterprise shouldn’t only be HR’s responsibility. Your marketing team should take the lead in communicating that openness.

Last year alone, CPG online sales in the U.S. totaled $58.6 billion, which accounts for 11% of total CPG retail sales.

3. The Role of the Digital Consumer Will Continue to Rise

That same McKinsey study reported that in 2010, the percentage of online CPG purchases was already at six percent. It’s now at 11 percent and rising.

I’d bet good money that the shift to digital during the current pandemic will cause this number to rise even faster. As people become used to the convenience of ordering online, it doesn’t take a crystal ball to see that consumers won’t be likely to give up that advantage.

For marketers, this development means that they’ll need to invest more time and money in understanding potential customers and their needs. Audience and content analytics will rise in importance, as will detailed enterprise content marketing strategies that deliver on business goals and ROI.

Social listening will become even more important, as will user-generated content. As consumers do more research online, they’ll depend more on what others say about your products and services.

An overwhelming number of consumers (70 percent) already depend on user reviews for information about products and services. That number will only rise as they turn online to do business.

4. Mobile Commerce Will Rise to 44 Percent of Digital Commerce by 2024

What Zenith Media once dubbed the “I-Street” will shift increasingly to mobile in the coming years. In fact, the Business Insider intelligence team believes that mobile commerce will become 44 percent of all digital transactions by 2024.

The reason: convenience. From voice search to delivery and everything in between, a consumer can shop and buy practically anything right from the palm of their hand.

Content marketing needs to lead this transformation. They must:

Optimize everything from static web content to blog posts for mobile consumption, including natural-language searches.

Personalize mobile messaging.

Create intuitive, seamless mobile experiences that make it easy for people to research and buy from a mobile device.

Use in-store messaging to assist customers in finding what they need at a price they want to pay.

5. Virtual Reality Will Likely Generate Nearly $2 Billion in Revenue in 2022

As futurist Blake Morgan points out, virtual and augmented reality (VR and AR) will rise in importance during the next few years. Studies project that the technology will do about $1.8 billion in business during 2022. Consumers are steadily adopting more and more AR and VR applications.

Even for B2B companies, VR will account for 40 percent of their buyer experiences by 2022. The trend shows no sign of stopping, nor should it. Studies show that it slashes garment returns by 25 percent. And, a majority of customers are more likely to buy products or services from a brand that offers them a VR experience.

To prepare for the future of VR marketing, content teams should plan now to get ahead of the game. Using 3D videos and photos, live videos, 3D models, and simulations should be a central part of their digital marketing strategy.

6. Artificial Intelligence Looks to Double Developed Countries’ Economic Growth by 2035

Imagine what your team could accomplish if they could hand over most of their customer research to a machine? According to Morgan, if artificial intelligence (AI) usage continues to grow at its current pace, quite a bit.

Studies indicate that the time and effort AI can save will double the economic growth in developed countries by 2035. Even by 2022, Morgan says, AI will replace many of the tasks of data analysts, freeing them to work on other tasks.

Imagine what even this one application could do for your content team. Combine that advantage with AI’s personalization and predictive capabilities, and you could double your productivity.

Now imagine what this application of AI technology could accomplish on a global scale. And that’s just marketing.

It’s no wonder futurists predict an economic growth spurt. If your content team isn’t leveraging the power of AI, it’s time to start.

7. Geolocation Marketing Looks to Reach $38.1 Billion in 2025

The benefits of geotargeting are indisputable.

Life’s about to get real for all those marketers who thought all they had to do was write “best plumber in Pittsburgh” and sprinkle that phrase at awkward places in every post they write.

Today’s geolocation allows content teams to pinpoint their audience’s location exactly.

Just think of the possibilities.

Dynamic content: In the case of our Pittsburgh plumber, their content could suggest water treatment for those areas around town that have trouble with lime and rust deposits. Customers in high-end neighborhoods might get suggestions about instant hot water installations, and so on.

Shopping suggestions: Geolocation can tell a shoe store, for instance, that a shoe-addicted fashionista is in the area. Automated messaging can alert that potential customer that the store is offering a two-for-one deal on sizzling Ferragamo flats. Or, to get the jump on the competition, that shoe store can send messages to shoe lovers while they’re in a competitor’s store.

Precise location-based search results: The future of location-based searches takes yesterday’s “best X in Y” searches to a whole new level, thanks to mobile technology and voice-based searches. Content marketers can use keywords in a whole new way — to answer questions — to become the one Google suggests when potential customers are out and about.

And much more. It’s no wonder that studies project that geolocation marketing will reach over a $38 billion spend by 2025.

For marketers, it pays to have one eye on the now and another firmly focused on the future. Putting these key trends to work for your business is a strategic place to stars.

If you are ready to get more traffic to your site with timely content published consistently, do talk to me about our Content Builder Services. Get started today — and generate more traffic and leads for your business.

The post 7 Key Stats That Point to the Future of Marketing appeared first on Marketing Insider Group.

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Teen Motorcycle Insurance in ontario?

Teen Motorcycle Insurance in ontario?

hello, i am 17 years old, turning 18 in october. I live one hour north of Toronto ontario in a city of 125,000 people. I am wondering the approximate cost to insure me on a 2011 Honda cbr 250r, which costs approximately $4000. I have completed a drivers education program as well. PLEASE DON T TELL ME TO CONTACT AN INSURANCE BROKER I can t check online quotes either because of my age. I just want to know if it is even worth looking at or if i will be paying like 4 grand a year to ride 5-6 months. thanks!

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare free quotes :HELP-INSURE.NET

SOURCES:

hello, i am 17 years old, turning 18 in october. I live one hour north of Toronto ontario in a city of 125,000 people. I am wondering the approximate cost to insure me on a 2011 Honda cbr 250r, which costs approximately $4000. I have completed a drivers education program as well. PLEASE DON T TELL ME TO CONTACT AN INSURANCE BROKER I can t check online quotes either because of my age. I just want to know if it is even worth looking at or if i will be paying like 4 grand a year to ride 5-6 months. thanks!

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hello, i am 17 years old, turning 18 in october. I live one hour north of Toronto ontario in a city of 125,000 people. I am wondering the approximate cost to insure me on a 2011 Honda cbr 250r, which costs approximately $4000. I have completed a drivers education program as well. PLEASE DON T TELL ME TO CONTACT AN INSURANCE BROKER I can t check online quotes either because of my age. I just want to know if it is even worth looking at or if i will be paying like 4 grand a year to ride 5-6 months. thanks!

[wydmariana]

well hellooooo beautiful people !! i’m so freakin excited u don’t even know… anyway, i guess i should introduce maself. i’m dani, i’m 19 & i’m from canada aka the est tz. i’m also the ari mascot on the main !! i’m gonna put some info about my babygirl below so pls hmu or like this to plot :~)

a SELENA GOMEZ lookalike was strolling down broadway street in their louis vuitton’s. mariana cavello just had a birthday bash for her twenty second birthday. she has been living in new york city for her whole life. i hear she tends to be reticent at parties, but also kind of quixotic. ( cisfemale & she/her )

☇   ❪    ˚･ﾟ ❛ STATISTICS :

full name: mariana marisol cavello

nickname(s): mari

age: twenty two

date of birth: june 4th, 1996

hometown: new york city

current location: upper east side, new york city

ethnicity: half mexican

nationality: american

gender: cisfemale

pronouns: she/her

parents names: tanner hastings, liliana cavello

orientation: pansexual but she doesn’t like labels

religion: grew up catholic, undecided

political affiliation: democrat

occupation: singer/songwriter

living arrangements: lives in her own mansion in the upper east side

language(s) spoken: english, spanish

accent: american

face claim: selena gomez

hair colour: x (most basic/accurate/but it changes)

eye colour: brown

height: 5″5

weight: 120lbs

build: petite

tattoos: mostly selena’s canon, but x instead of the music note

piercings: x (both ears)

drugs/alcohol/sex: yes/yes/yes

pets: one cat, 5 years old, named sergio - x

astrological chart: gemini sun, cancer moon, scorpio rising

☇   ❪    ˚･ﾟ ❛  BACKSTORY/CURRENT :

mariana was born to tanner cavello (famous hotel owner, entrepreneur, multimillionaire, been on forbes, think bart bass) & lilliana cavello (hispanic model/socialite)

her parents marriage was very much settling, the two of them cared about each other & were excited to start their life together in effort to please their parents and keep their images pristine

they were quick to fall out of love though, if you could say they were even ever in it

once mariana and her brother became teenagers, their dad started having affairs with his employes, the hot, young ones of course. & their mom found out, but confided in a 16 year old mariana about her father’s actions

( sexual abuse tw ) this infuriated mariana, especially considering the hours she would spend waiting outside her father’s office doing homework while his business partners molested her in the empty conference room starting at the age of 14

she never told anyone about it, although she knew her father had known the whole time, remembering how many times he’d interrupt it by summoning his partners for work or a meeting

mariana began absolutely hating her father, while still yearning for his approval, & this went on for 4 years until she turned 18 and got revenge by sleeping with one of her dad’s business partners & allowing his wife to find out

so his wife threatened to tell the media about this little scandal, unless mari’s dad paid them off, which is exactly what he did but not before taking his anger out on mariana & blaming her for the whole mess

she has barely talked to her dad since & moved out right as that whole situation went down. she does her best to avoid family gatherings, doesn’t visit the house to see her parents too often. she does have weekly phone calls with her mom & tries to see her as often as she can, no matter how much she resents her

she got into the party scene around 17/18 as well, and became new york’s resident “wild child rich kid/socialite” in her teen years, so she has that reputation in the media still to this day

her parents have been rich as fuck since the day she was born, so she’s definitely a spoiled brat, never worked a day in her life, had daddy’s credit card whenever she needed it

music had always been a passion of hers though, being her favorite class in school (on days when she would actually attend)

so when she was 20, she started getting back into writing, sold a couple of her songs to artists like zendaya, the weeknd, etc

when she turned 21 she released her first single & album within the same year, began touring, and got to the top of the charts almost right away & gained a huge fanbase, whom she loves

she works hard though, & loves writing and releasing music now and never wants to stop. it’s truly the thing that makes her most happy in the entire world and keeps her sane

☇   ❪    ˚･ﾟ ❛  PERSONALITY  :

mariana can be a brat, to put it simply. she thinks she’s always right about everything & it’s rare you’re ever gonna get an apology from her when she’s done something wrong (unless she really cares about you which….)

she’s lowkey a softie, bc of her cancer moon tbh. she tends to get herself into relationships and then mess them up for the sake of it or because she stops trusting herself to be in the relationship at all

but when she loves someone, she LOVES them, like w every fibre in her body u know?

and she cares fiercely about people, it ends up being a problem for her a lot of the time

she hasn’t worked through her trauma & probably never will, she bottles that shit up tight & doesn’t let anybody know it’s there. the only way she’s ever opening up is if she’s writing, cause she wants that shit to be real

but she’s still gonna hoe it up, catch her in the club trying to get some dick for the night, u know what i mean?

super depressed if we’re being real here. she’s sad, and she has abandonment issues because of her dad. so her mindset is- there’s no forming attachments, because everyone leaves me anyway

( drugs tw ) she loves cocaine, is most definitely an addict (but who isn’t in this city), tequila is her alcohol of choice, but she’ll drink anything you give her & weed is her creative saving grace

she started popping pain pills on her 21st birthday, opioids occasionally & mostly xanax, stuff like that, is most definitely also addicted to those

we love a bitch who doesn’t care about her health!

her management team frowns upon it, but she does smoke cigarettes pretty often, but mostly only when she’s stressed

mariana’s the type of bitch to call the paparazzi on herself, she loves attention. but with her music career now it’s been 10x harder for her to keep her life private, not that she cares. but at least she doesn’t have to call the paps on herself anymore lol

she thinks it’s important to treat people w kindness and respect, but no doubt she’ll be ready to fight a b*tch if she has to…

catch her at any protest that involves saying “fuck you trump”

her instagram is a big mix of stories of her cat, dumb selfies, ig model posts, her friends, career stuff & political posts. she’s very active on the gram & snapchat lol

honestly thank U for reading this trash if u didnt...i understand. catch her pinterest board for more here & i have a wanted connections page here ! ok bye i love u, plot w me <3

[saskhal]

On Division

After moving from Mexico to the United States, Elena began to lose her children to the American culture. Her worst fear is that she will not be there for her children when they need her most, because she cannot learn English. Vamos a pedirle dulces a mama. Vamos.They no longer need her. Elena slowly becomes dumb. If she doesn’t lock herself in the bathroom with her English book every day, she will become deaf.

           I wasn’t sure if it was because times are changing, or if the world was always so blocked off. People protest and rally for freedom in a place that claimed to already have it. After the nation had its first black president our idea of freedom was still not fulfilled. People are still divided in as many ways as water can be shaped. There will always be people who cannot adapt. There will always be people who cannot hear more than one thing.

           My parents have been separated for most of my life. I have only two short memories of my mother and father together. After my dad got full custody of my sister and I, my mother would ask me the same thing. What did I do wrong? She said it for years. All throughout junior high and high school. What can I do? sorry mom. We’ve told you many times what you did. She would cry either right before we left or right when she picked us up from our dad’s. I felt awkward. Tight and strained. I wasn’t a human anymore. Instead I was outside the car looking down through the windows and sort of through the roof of the car.  I was look at myself as I stared at the floor waiting until my mother would stop crying. Eventually it would just be me in that car. My sister no longer has a relationship with our mother. My sister and mother also divided. She grew stronger than me, but she never learned to forgive.

           Middle earth has always been harsh and unforgiving. Different species, races, even families clash. The One Ring is pure evil, and holds the ultimate power. Mankind easily gave in and became servants of evil. Trapped with and evil that cannot die. The Ulairi are covered in all black robes. The hoods are thick and shape the head of nothingness.

           I opened the door to my Nazgul’s lair. The young adult smell no longer exists; instead there is sweat and marijuana. The shadows felt more awake, because of all the trash and bottle caps. The bedsheets were navy and mint. The air was like winter, but smelt like summer. A small clutter of medicine was in the corner. It was purchased last night says the receipt. The cough he didn’t have must still be bothering him I bet. He is lost forever now. Divided from his family and his consciousness. Lost all his power of will.

           Tucson unified school district, in Arizona, had once realized that 50% of their Mexican-American students dropped out of school. They attempted to fix this by implementing ethnic studies classes. There was a huge improvement, and about 90% of the students enrolled in these classes graduated high school. Imagine being a student, and no longer feeling like your school system was trying to get you to drop out. In ethnic studies, students learn about their culture and others. Teaching values that allow unity between different cultures and idea.            The statistics were showing that marijuana was good for people and their health. It was legal and seemed like everyone was smoking it, even if they were under aged. I never had a problem with it. I never smoked. I had responsible friends who were going to college and always had better grades than me who drank and smoked, so why would it be such a big deal? 

         My Nazgul has had issues growing up, but he was the only one with substance abuse problems. His younger brother was doing good in school and even took harder classes. I spent the night at my grandparents one night. I couldn’t sleep. The alarm clock read 3:13 in black letters with a slimy green glow. The light was bright enough to hurt my eyes after I lowered the blanket from shielding my eyes. I heard the basement door shut. I could hear my grandma’s chanclas smack against her feet as she walked outside. I looked out the window and thought the same thing as I always do, why is the sky so bright even in the middle of the night? It was summer. And I was afraid of lights, because I knew I wasn’t going to sleep. I need darkness in my life, so I can rest.

           The sun was hot on my way to school. I dressed accordingly. The cool air came in and caused a storm which brought rain and wind. I was soaked walking home. If it is nature for opposites to fight and cause destruction, then it makes sense for humans to do the same.

           During the industrial era, feudal Japan wanted to become a more civilized nation and become a strong and united nation like many western countries. The Japanese Empire fought against smaller territories. When one battle was won, the rest of the losing side would accept their defeat and kill themselves, but Tom Cruise kept fighting. Accepting defeat was not part of his American culture. He learned more about his opposition while in captivity. He was one of the last samurai. The Last Samurai holds the bridge somewhere. What can bring one side and connect it to the other? Whatever it is, war is part of it. 

         It was in the late 2000′s when I played hockey against the Canadians. Tacoma versus Vancouver. We fought hard for 90 minutes. The temperature was freezing for obvious reasons. But our bodies were creating so much friction that we couldn’t keep cool. I had sweat that stung my eyeball like salty peppers. I sat on the bench for the first time in 15 minutes of nonstop moving. I saw the twinkling white lights as everything started to dim. One streak of lighting across my eyes after another until finally it stopped, and the world became bright again. This was just a game, but sticks were still broken. Skates sliced the slippery ice. Whistles blown and cracked like a whip. We even hunched over after our stomachs where smashed by a big hit. All this was for fun, but we fought only because we were on different teams. We shook hands and said good game afterwards, but we never shake hands before we battle.

           Even my younger cousin started feeling the quake of my Nazgul’s dysfunction. The Nazgul isn’t a bad person, it’s just that he trapped himself in this disassociated state, and now my younger cousin has to live amongst the hate and separation within his household. My cousin is having a harder time in school now. He is physically sick because of mental stress. Our battles hurt everyone not just ourselves.

           The Tucson districts abolished its ethnic studies classes because it divided children by their race. In class they read books based off communism that had ideals written by dictators and fascists. The children were taught that the American history was filled with bloodshed and hatred of other cultures. The politicians who helped ban these classes never even attended a class. And the one time they did, they did not listen to the positive and look for every opportunity to bring it down. The film Precious Knowledge was released in 2011 to inform people about the struggle in Arizona, and how media can totally manipulate what is true. Many other school districts followed the message and make their own ethnic studies classes to help educate kids, and even made it a required class. However, it wasn’t until August 2017 that the law was deemed unconstitutional by the supreme court and the Tucson unified school district was free to hold ethnic studies courses. 

         My grandma saw it one way and one way only. Weed is a drug and drugs are bad. They are a terrible way to “have fun” and will lead to worse drugs. Alcohol is bad. For the Nazgul at least. He cannot handle it, and everyone can see. But maybe she was right. As of now she is right. Evil cannot die. He is forever a servant of the dark lord.

           He believes that everything is someone else’s fault. He is in jail because we won’t bail him out. He believes that he doesn’t have to pay if he steals. He believes that downing cough syrup won’t have a bad consequence. Maybe he should fight the people who keep giving him more chances to make bigger mistakes, because it’s their fault for letting him out of that cell.

           People will always have a different stand on a subject. The good thing about conformity and socialization is that there is less conflict when everything is the same. The bad thing is that those who are different are viewed as sickly and handicap. An open mind helps people stay free. An open mind helps people work together. The reason we teach art majors calculus is because math helps with problem solving. People need to adapt and build bridges and roads. The only divider would ideally be something that connects those two things together.            The Ethnic/ Raza students at Tucson high were dangerous to some people. Those people did not want Latinos to be educated. They wanted to keep using second grade students of color data to know how many prisons they’ll need in the future. What makes a person want to shut down a program meant for all ethnicities and for all students? Why would a person think that students graduating school and enjoying education was a bad thing? The division of power was being threatened. New ideas where not accepted because order keeps us alive. We do not know what will happen if there is change.

           I learned that I cannot expect anything to change unless I was willing to lose something. I did not know what was going to happen to me when I started working at panda express. I could have worked at a company where I got money and never built any relationships with anyone and played the game safe. Instead I gave up my comfort and I was placed a workspace with people who cared about me. I gained confidence and could speak. I will volunteer to speak with younger people and hopefully they will be better than me. I can become a leader now. 

         I have been to a counselor before. The first few times it was required by law, because of my parents. The next time was because I wanted to. I wish I was diagnosed with something just so I had an excuse for being how I am, but I was never tested or went in for something like that. I looked up my problems on my own. I am not what people call antisocial, because that would mean I have no morals and I act against society and its laws. I am not avoidant because I do not like to be in my room by myself. I prefer to be with others, although I do act awkwardly at times and fear rejection. Maybe I just have rubatosis. I can always feel my heart. I ask around and everyone says they feel their heart too and it’s normal. But they don’t know what i’s like I’m sure.   

Jackson, P. (Director). (2001). The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.

 Mora, P. (1985). Elena.

 Palos, A. (Director). (2011). Precious Knowledge.

 Thorne, Craig R., and Richard R. DeBlassie. "Adolescent substance abuse." Adolescence 20.78 (1985): 335.

             Swartz, Marvin S., et al. "Violence and severe mental illness: the effects of substance abuse and nonadherence to medication." American journal of psychiatry 155.2 (1998): 226-231.

             Zwick, E. (Director). (2003). The Last Samurai. Warner Bros.

[jthelmsdeep]

Too much ado about...immigration?

I’m an immigrant. Unabashedly so. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a proudly naturalized American. I chose America before she chose me. But lately I feel as if I’ve been caught in a bait-and-switch. You see, this isn’t the America I signed up for. When I first came to the USA almost 27 years ago, I was struck by the sense of national pride. I loved America and I loved her many and varied people! It felt as if this experimental melting pot made up of varying tribes, religions, and cultures was God’s way of saying that, through this blended potpourri of diversity He would model what a society can look like when each distinctly unique part is contributing effectively to the whole.

Recently I’ve felt as if I was rudely jarred awake…into a nightmare. I’ve felt like Cinderella surrounded by the unholy trinity of my ugly step-mother and two evil step-sisters. Recently it’s felt as if my ‘adopted family’ wasn’t whom they’d initially shown themselves to be after all. Reality has brazenly contradicted my idyllic family portrait, and the triumvirate of bigotry, lying, and hubris have taken center stage. During the last election cycle—which lasted way too long—I was duly informed, by friends of mine no less, that #BlackLivesMatter doesn’t matter, and that it was in fact a militant racist, hate group. So in response to the hashtag I was told that #AllLivesMatter so stop saying specific colors matter…that is until #BlueLivesMatter became a hashtag. Their response to that?

Deafening silence!

So, it turns out, certain color lives do matter as long as they’re not black. To justify this they pointed to statistics that indicate that more white men are killed by cops than black men. To which I chuckled and carefully pointed out that black people make up only 12.6% of the population of the USA while white people make up 77% of the population. Then they suggested that more black men are killed by other black men, than there are black men killed by white men. To which I respond, if you killed your father, and I turn around and killed your mother, does that make it okay because you killed your father? Does that somehow negate the conversation about my killing your mother simply because you killed your father?

My point? Until we acknowledge that racism and bigotry are real and present in today’s America, we won’t even begin to approach solutions to help fix the problem. And the continued mainstreaming of hate groups while falsely labeling others will only serve to widen the gulf and fuel the fires of animosity and anger.

And how about lying? it’s become institutionalized and justified by those suggesting that they’re tired of being “politically correct.” I’m astounded that any right-thinking person would suggest that the opposite of political correctness would be to embrace dishonesty in addition to treating people with disrespect and saying whatever you like under the guise of being honest, but there you have it! That’s our ‘brave’ new world.

Our new President and his team have repeatedly shown us that they’re willing to be economical with the truth. Sean Spicer, the President’s press secretary, informed America and the world in his first televised press conference that Trumps inauguration crowd was larger than Obama’s. While the crowd size really was of little or no consequence, that assertion turned out to be provably false, and when photographic evidence was produced, the President accused the press of spreading “fake news” and falsifying the photos.

The President’s publicity guru, Kelly Ann Conway, in defense of Sean Spicer’s, shall we say, inaccuracies, taught America a new phrase: “Alternative facts.” Excuse me? Alternative facts? What on earth are those? There can only be one fact about a two-sided issue not two diametrically opposed facts. If it isn’t a fact, then it’s a lie. So I guess alternative facts are simply lies dressed up in political spin? Maybe someone reading this might have clearer insight into this than I do.

The president himself has gone on record stating that the press are all “dishonest people” and simply report fake news…that is, the one’s who don’t show him in a favorable light, and so Fox News somehow escapes this sweeping moniker. Are we living in an African dictatorship? How on earth does a President undermine a vast segment of the very people whom he swore to lead by uniformly calling their reporting fake news unless it shows him in a favorable light? How on earth does that make for a free press?

I understand that the press often allows their bias to show in their reporting of facts (whether it’s CNN or FOX), but that doesn’t make the facts any less factual simply because the facts are reported with a particular bias. You wouldn’t suggest that a doctor is any less a doctor because his bias regarding what he thinks ails you is different from what you perceive, or from what another doctor said whom you might agree with. Or maybe you would? Yet, our President lies without compunction and makes no apologies for his lies even when called to the carpet. He simply shifts the blame and goes right on as if his dishonesty is of no consequence.

In his first press conference since taking office, President Trump, when challenged about his assertion that he’d had the largest electoral college victory since Reagan, wasn’t having any of it. Turns out that other than President George W. Bush, every subsequent President has had larger electoral college margins of victory than him, so when a reporter called this to his attention he simply brushed it off by saying that’s what he was told. How on earth does the President of the most powerful nation on earth surround himself with people who won’t tell him the truth? Better yet, why does the President not check and confirm his ‘facts’ before he spews them? Yet it’s the reporters who are arbiters of fake news?

If the President were told that his wife had been seen kissing another man suggestively in public, would he simply believe it and report it to the world as fact? If that story was later discovered to be false and he was challenged on why he was propagating a falsehood would he simply say that’s what he was told and dismiss it offhandedly? I think not. To set the precedent for his presidency by minimizing the value of the press and calling them “fake” is to minimize the value of those who’ve given their lives in the pursuit of bringing the news to Americans regardless of how much that puts them in harms way.

The President also opined that there’d been a smooth rollout of the immigration ban following his Executive Order. That, as it turns out, is patently false. Some people who were Green Card holders—legally vetted residents of the USA—were stranded when they landed back home in the USA because before they took off there were no details on how to implement the ban, and who it covered. Based on its unconstitutionality, a judge stayed the implementation of the EO. The White House appealed the stay but it was upheld by the Appellate Court. The President publicly blamed the rejection of the appeal on a “bad court.”

What is the role of the court in a democratic republic? I’m no scholar or legal luminary, but a simple common sense research will expose the fact that one of the functions of the Judicial branch of government is most definitely not to rubber stamp the will of the executive branch, but to ensure that legislation enacted by congress is followed according to due process. That is one of the reasons this system works. It has a healthy set of checks and balances between the Executive, Legislative, and Judicial arms of the government. To call the court into question as if he is himself a legal expert, is to undermine the very system of checks and balances that has made this country as successful as it is in the smooth transitions of power.

Finally, what sort of hubris must one possess to believe that you have a right to determine how the entire world should live? As a country we’ve started, incited, and supported wars, coups, and unrest in various parts of the world to support our own, sometimes selfish, interests. These wars create innocent victims, many of whom become refugees fleeing from the carnage of war and death, simply trying to make a life for themselves. Alas, rooted in fear at the migration of people from wars that we’re in part responsible for, we suggest that we can no longer tolerate the influx of these refugees because they pose a risk to our safety.

We compare them to Skittles and mask our fear as a lack of proper vetting procedures. I for one will confidently declare how absurd that notion is. As an immigrant to the USA I can assure you that I went through the most stringent vetting procedures to ensure that I was worthy of becoming a part of this great experiment called the United States of America, and so was every other immigrant that I know. There are no fail safe systems and so people with ill intent will occasionally slip through the cracks in any system.

This country was built on the backs of immigrants, who violently and dispassionately wrested it from the hands of the original inhabitants of the land. To suggest that we suddenly need to stem the tide of immigration and ban people from certain countries coming here to seek safe harbor is downright ungodly! Yep, I said it.

May I gently remind you that without immigrants there’s possibly no silicone valley. After all, Steve Jobs' father, Abdulfattah Jandali, came to the United States as a student. He was from Homs, Syria.1 Without immigrants, we wouldn’t be able to feed everyone in these United States, the third most populous nation on earth. Hired workers comprise 33 percent of the workforce, but do an estimated 60 percent of the work performed on US farms. Most hired farm workers were born abroad, usually in Mexico, and most are believed not to be authorized to work in the US.2

“Since farm work is more physically demanding and less well compensated

than non-farm jobs requiring similar skills, it is increasingly difficult to attract

domestic workers willing to take farm jobs. This is one reason why farm

employers have increasingly relied on foreign workers.”3

Without immigrants there would be no NFL as we know it. In other words, America’s favorite sport by far, would look vastly different with a less impressive talent pool. 70% of NFL players are black men, and every single black man in America is an immigrant either by choice or by the heritage of slavery. Today, a significant number of immigrant players make up the NFL including many past Hall of Famers.4

Without immigrants, there would be no Albrecht Einstein and no Special Theory of Relativity, better known as e=mc2 (energy = mass times the speed of light squared). That formula provided the awareness and expertise of nuclear fission. A technology which made the atomic bombs “Little Boy” and “Fat Boy” that were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki respectively.5 The absence of these bombs would almost certainly have changed the outcome of WW2.

Without immigrants, there would have been no Wernher von Braun, who moved from Germany following WW2 along with about 1,500 other scientists, technicians and engineers as part of “Operation Paperclip,” where he developed the rockets that launched the United States' first space satellite “Explorer 1,” and the Apollo program manned lunar landings.6

There’s no doubt in my mind that as a nation, we’re better off being the melting pot that made America great, than we are being this unrecognizable nation paralyzed with fear and hate, seeking to shut out the rest of the world and live in a vacuum. So, as a final thought let me remind you that nature abhors a vacuum, and soon fills it with something else. Don’t believe me? Ask the Roman Empire. Just my dos centavos!

1. http://www.macworld.co.uk/feature/apple/who-is-steve-jobs-syrian-immigrant-father-abdul-fattah-jandali-3624958/

2. http://wrdc.usu.edu/files/publications/publication/pub__1454925.pdf

3 http://wrdc.usu.edu/files/publications/publication/pub__1454925.pdf

4. http://xpatnation.com/outstanding-immigrants-who-succeeded-in-the-nfl/

5  http://www.amnh.org/exhibitions/einstein/peace-and-war/the-manhattan-project/

6. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wernher_von_Braun