#bobby is WAY more trash-class-coded

[shallowseeker]

Are we going to talk about how Tall Tales also showcases Sam's classism re: Dean's flirting with the girl at the bar? How Sam vs how Dean sees her is fascinating.

[goldenavenger02]

Whumptober day 17. Reluctant Caretaker

Bobby Finstock hated these kinds of announcements; where he had to get in front of his team, some of them he didn't even hate that much, and tell them that there was a memorial for students, it never got easier.

Regardless, he walked out of the office with the clipboard of the flier and addressed the lacrosse team who looked at him expectantly.

"Practice has been pushed back till tomorrow due to the school memorial for Allison Argent and Aiden Steiner. It's not mandatory to go but if you do, the dress code is formal. McCall, Lydia Martin, Mr. Argent and Ethan Steiner will all be speaking, and Danny has prepared a piece with the rest of the band. If you feel as though you need someone to talk to, Ms. Morell's office is open for three hours after school to anyone who needs to talk about it, and my door is always open. Any questions?"

When the lacrosse team started to file back out of the locker room after a resounding no, Bobby started to make his way out as well. Since he didn't have to coach lacrosse, he was going to go home and try to find some sort of suit; he had just been talking to Ethan about joining the team since the teen had expressed his interest and while that interest may have also been in Danny, he couldn't help but be excited with his enthusiasm. He was going to put in an order for his jersey when he had gotten the news two days ago. He had a feeling that he wasn't going to practice while grieving his twin, nor would he make him.

But when he started to walk past the lockers, that's when he saw Stilinski with his back pressed against the row of lockers as he was struggling to breathe. his face pale. Bobby's first thought as he crouched next to the teen was an allergic reaction until he couldn't see any sort of rash. Like a stroke of luck, he remembered what the sheriff had told him when he originally joined the team.

"He can be susceptible to panic attacks, but he hasn't had one in a few years."

"Hey, you wanna tell me five things you can see in here? Stilinski?" Adamantly, he hadn't taken the class on how to stop an anxiety attack in a few years, but he knew one thing and that was that he had to ground this teenager before he passed out and caused a fresh stack of paperwork.

"Y-you, my shoes, your whi-whistle, my hand, the lockers."

"What about feeling? What are four things you can feel?"

"Your hand on my shoulder, my heart pounding, the cold floor... and guilt."

Bobby tried to brush that thought away because he had no idea how the uncoordinated, clumsy teenager could feel guilty about the death of two students, but he also knew survivor's guilt was too real of a thing. He pressed on regardless, making a mental note to refer him to Morrell later. 'That's her expertise after all.'

"What are three things you can hear, Stilinski?"

"Your voice, my voice, and someone outside of the gym door."

'Please don't be another student struggling with grief. Just because I said my door was open didn't mean I'm equipped for it today.' Bobby thought to himself as he noticed that while the teenager was no longer struggling to breathe, he was still way too pale and looked ready to throw up or fall asleep. 'This kid had better not throw up on me.' They didn't need to go through the rest of the grounding steps, he wasn't panicking any more.

So Bobby slid the trash can to Stilinski in case he did throw up before standing up and unlocking the gym door to see McCall standing in his suit in front of him. "McCall, I'm in the middle of a situation right now."

But McCall pushed, actually pushed, past him and made a beeline toward Stiles, sitting on the floor in a suit that was definitely a rental which made Bobby cringe as they spoke in whispers. If there was any way he could leave McCall with Stilinski, he would, but he had the memorial in an hour and the other teen needed to go home or to a hospital. So, he broke up the moment with a reminder.

"McCall, I need to take him to the nurse and you have the memorial in an hour."

"Are you sure you-?"

"I've got him. Get out of here."

After a moment of hesitation, Scott did stand up, stopping to squeeze Stilinski's shoulder with a quick "text me when you get home," before leaving the gym, leaving them alone once again.

"Do you want me to take you to the nurse now?"

"No, my legs are still shaky," Stiles responded with a shaky breath before turning back to Bobby, "thanks for the help though."

"You're welcome," Bobby nodded back, because he knew that if he said "any time", that meant that the kid would think he could come back and do this all over again. Just because he would help him didn't mean he was welcoming it, "maybe go to Morrell next time."

"Copy that, Coach." Seeing Stilinski grin was enough reassurance for Bobby that he didn't have to worry too much.

[ashleyspinelliburnbook]

S1E10: Teacher’s Lounge/Randall’s Reform

A bit of mystery, a bit of disappointment, a bit of...accidentally reading Randall’s secret diary oh my GOD no one tell Miss Finster!!!!

Teacher’s Lounge

It’s a big day at Third Street School, so as usual, Gus is out of the loop. Gretchen is pacing, nervous about something, Spinelli has ribbons in her pigtails, TJ combed his hair, Mikey tucked in his shirt, and Vince...why, Vince is wearing a tie!

Obviously, this can only mean one thing: it’s the day the teachers turn in their annual budget requests!

Gus is still out of the loop. To be fair, I would be too, had I not had a vague memory of what this episode was about based on its title. It turns out each class selects one student to take the annual budget request to...THE TEACHERS’ LOUNGE. WHAAAAAAT

Gus never knew anyone who got to see the teacher’s lounge at his old school, and the gang laments that Vince had the chance in second grade, but when he knocked on the door to hand over the folder, the door opened and closed so fast that he didn’t get a look. Just like that, the folder was gone.

So class starts, and the gang is charming the hell out of Miss Grotke, all hoping to avenge Vince’s grave error. And it looks like it’s going to work, until Miss Lemon, the receptionist, shows up...asking for the annual budget request. “What a fine idea!” Miss Grotke exclaims. “We won’t interrupt our studies to run a silly errand!”

The mystique surrounding the teacher’s lounge feels pretty universal, doesn’t it? I wasn’t the kind of kid who investigated these things (especially at the expense of playing with my friends in other classes during recess), but I still wanted to know what the teacher’s lounge looked like.

I think it was third grade when I finally got that chance — I was walking and talking with my teacher (yep, that’s me) and he needed to go in there for a moment. He held the door open for me, as if inviting me in after him, and...I mean, it was just a room. Tables, coffee machine, couch. I didn’t have any preconceived notions about what it should look like, and still, that mystique was preserved — it was a space just for teachers. We didn’t really have any spaces that were just for us students on campus.

Not that these kids have that problem — they’re running a whole society independent of staff intervention — but they’re still pretty bummed about once again missing this chance. “We all debased ourselves today, and for what?” Gretchen sighs. She really wanted to see the bunsen burners and petri dishes, see.

You can almost hear the record scratch after she says that. It’s then that we learn that every kid has a different view of what the teacher’s lounge looks like: Gretchen sees them as scientists, “pushing the boundaries of knowledge on every frontier”; Spinelli says it’s stupid to think they’re spending their free time doing work stuff and that they must be working out; Mikey, meanwhile, sticks to his brand and says he thinks they’re meditating, burning incense, and walking across hot coals while dressed as Tibetan monks.

There’s an obvious solution to settle this, and TJ’s on it right away: why not just go see inside themselves? (Surely they might have thought of this in a previous year, but, eh, the cameras weren’t rolling yet.) They hire Crier Kid to distract Finster, who is guarding what is apparently the only entrance into the school — fire codes, anyone? — and they make their way outside the teacher’s lounge.

Spinelli unlocks the door with a bobby pin, and after distracting constant teacher’s lounge resident Mr. Yamashiro by telling him his car is on fire, the gang walks in and sees...a dilapidated old room with a coffee machine and broken furniture. All things considered, it’s a dump.

The kids are disappointed and leave as Mr. Yamashiro returns and goes to get a coffee...by which I mean he pushes a button on the machine, revealing a secret room to the real teacher’s lounge. A butler offers him a drink, he puts on a smoking jacket, and we see this spa-slash-man cave where teachers can watch TV, get massages, or relax in a hot tub.

“That’s no kindergartener, that’s my wife!” Principal Prickly says, and the teachers all laugh.

Takeaway: Never, ever get your hopes up about anything ever. You’ll just be disappointed, and that disappointment will only be compounded with the knowledge that the person snatching your hopes away is probably concealing something better. (Okay, maybe some hope is good sometimes, but “prepare to be disappointed” is sometimes okay, too.)

Randall’s Reform

THE SECRET DIARY OF RANDALL WEEMS - DO NOT READ

I WILL TELL MISS FINSTER IF YOU DO AND YOU’LL BE SORRY

Dear Diary,

I wish I was popular.

I know, I know. Being popular isn’t everything. But I see kids like TJ Detweiler with all the friends he could ever want, even though he’s dirty and ugly, and I get so mad! Why do kids like him get everything and kids like me get nothing?

I have to go make sardine and pickle sandwiches for me and Miss Finster’s lunch tomorrow. More later.

-

Dear Diary,

I got the good ball again today! Miss Finster hand-selected me! TJ and his friends got stuck with the flat ball, which they deserve. They’re just a bunch of losers. I mean, look at the ball they got!

But here’s the thing. They got the worst ball in the bin, and they still managed to have fun at recess. TJ even told a joke that I heard Principal Prickly say in the teacher’s lounge the other day about his wife being mistaken for a kindergartener! But I just didn’t have the will to snitch on him.

I got the best ball in the bin, and I didn’t have fun at all. I just hit myself in the face with the ball, if I’m being honest here.

Spinelli said she and her friends would rather play with a flat ball than a slimeball. It hurt more than I’d ever tell them.

-

Dear Diary,

I learned what “whiplash” is today, because it’s what happened to me. The day started with me framing TJ pretty good — I wrote a note that said “I did it! –TJ” and left it by the trash can, like he had just littered or something. Miss Finster was on him right away! It was great!

When TJ was serving his punishment at the wall, I told him I was going to make his life a living nightmare. But then I told him something I didn’t expect I would tell him. I said I wished I was him. I said I didn’t get why everyone liked him and not me.

He told me it’s because I’m always snitching, as if that’s not my job! But we made a deal: I won’t snitch on him if he lets me hang out with him and his friends.

I’m worried, but I’m excited.

-

Dear Diary,

Today didn’t go well at first. I tried to eat my sardine and pickle sandwich at the table with the gang, and no one but TJ even acknowledged my existence except to say mean things. Then, at recess, they all shut me out of their games. TJ told me it’s because my history is gonna be hard to shake.

So I decided to show them something to prove I’m for real! I took them to Miss Finster’s secret ball room, where there are 83 brand-new balls! We went to the window above the playground and gave them all away! It felt good to be liked for that.

Miss Finster caught us, of course, and we were all lined up as she asked everyone if they did it. She got to me and I said...I didn’t know who did it! It felt kind of bad to lie to Miss Finster, but the gang all accepted me after that. That felt good.

-

Dear Diary,

My life is over.

Miss Finster has a new snitch now, this kid named Douglas. He called me “ex-weasel” and told me Miss Finster had shared all of our secrets with him.

I’m too distraught to write any more today.

-

Dear Diary,

Well, that was fun while it lasted. TJ gave me some good advice: that we only get a few really good friends in life, and that being popular is no reason to give up a friend like Miss Finster.

It turns out she really cares about me, because she got rid of Douglas as soon as I told her TJ and all them were responsible for the balls! They had to go to the wall! It was really great.

Takeaway: Snitches get stitches (I just assume Randall got stitches after beaning himself in the head with the good ball).

[thethingwewrite]

Choose Your Side

Part 1:  Witch?

Summary: (Y/N) didn't know what she was getting into when she found the book in her locker. Would using it be just all the fun she thought she could have or something darker than she except?

Pairing: Dean x Reader (in the future)

Word Counts:  2817

Warning: Bullying, little angst

A/N: Hey guys, here is the new fic and series, I was working on. As you know its a charmed crossover but they aren't in the first part but in the next one, the same is for Dean. There is only Bobby in this part so bar with me, I like her to discover the whole new world first then bring anyone yet. Like I said it was supposed to be a co-writer fic with @secretlyfurrydragon . She inspired me a lot and I really believed she is a great writer. Thanks to @mrswhozeewhatsis for betaing this as always she is just doing a great job with me :). I hope you will enjoy this and let me know what you think about it.

Tag: @dr-dean , @helvonasche, @wevegotworktodo, @thorne93, @aprofoundbondwithdean, @faith-in-dean, @roxy-davenport,  @fangirl1802, @percywinchester27,  , @girl-next-door-writes, @kittenofdoomage, @supernatural-jackles, @mysupernaturalfics, @izawrites,  @jelly-beans-and-gstrings , @ariannnawinchester, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @jensen-jarpad, @secretlyfurrydragon, @thisismexxo,  @wonderfulworldofwinchester, @just-another-busy-fangirl, @mrswhozeewhatsis

Spn Tag Sheet: @thinkwritexpress-official , @itsemmyb , @ezauraemmaline, @charliesbackbitches, @deandoesthingstome, @deerlululucy, @walkingencyclopediaoffandom , @gryffindorable713 , @manawhaat, @growleytria, @thegleegeneration, @samtomydeanwinchester , @supermoonpanda , @sis-tafics , @amaranthinecastiel , @becs-bunker  , @meganwinchester1999 , @samanddeanwinchester67 , @ferferelli, @iridianuniverse , @the-morning-star-falls , @ackleslaugh , @fangirling-instead-of-working , @hellbentcrowley, @eyes-of-a-disney-princess , @kayteonline ,  @spnsimpleman,  @mamaimpala@for-the-love-of-dean , @winchesterfiesta ,  @salvachester, @sleep-silent-angel,  @gadreelsforbiddenfruit , @trenchcoats-and-bees  , @curliesallovertheplace, @jencharlan ,  @skybinx-blog,

March 1998

It was a dark, raining night filled with thunder every now and again. From the window of your room, you observed the scenery and wondered if you had been the reason the rain started in the first place. You bit your lips and glanced at the night table you converted into a ritual table surrounded by candles. You did not know whether you could be happy about it or worried, so you slowly decided to walk to it and read the page you used to cast a spell. You took a deep breath as you reread it for the third time.

You had been practicing witchcraft for a whole week now. So far it's only been fun. Any little trick here and there, but you never dared to try the bigger one until now. Being 14 year old, (y/h/c) and plus-size was never easy. So when you found the book in your locker a week ago, you thought someone was pranking you, especially with the weird note, you discovered with it

“(Y/N). You had been chosen to use and protect this book. Make sure it never falls into the wrong hand. Also, This book is a gift and can also be a curse too. If you have good intentions, you will only face minor consequence in your life, if not, get ready for a lifetime of nightmare and losing your loved one.”

That note worried you, mainly because no one knew your locker code but you. You made sure of it. So you quickly put the heavy book in your backpack and went to the library. Stupidly thinking the book belonged there and the look the librarian gave you, it was something you never want to do again. So you left quickly without the book and did everything to avoid the odd look you received on the way to your class.

The whole day, you had received comments from your classmate calling you a witch or fat witch, particularly because the book pop up at any particular moment, even though some of your teachers confiscate it from you and you also throw it in the trash bin on the way home but found it on your bed. You had stopped freaking out after the third time and after receiving from one of your teacher a note to be in detention. You were just bothered and annoyed by everything, so you just gave in and opened the book.

A rumble of thunder startled you and brought you back into the problem. You slightly smiled as you noticed that this spell would only last 12 hours.

“Good,” you said to yourself then closed the book.

You smiled and promised yourself that you wouldn’t use the book anymore, while cleaned and put everything that was on the night table in your closet before going to sleep.

The next day like you predicted, the storm stopped around 9 am and you were pleased to know that the weather came back as it's expected to be. After that, nothing major happened other than two of the four kids that bothered you didn't come into class that day, you did not mind. You figured that they were sick or something, but while you had your lunch break, the two left came to your table.

“Where are they, fat ass!?” Joyce queried

You raised an eyebrow “Who are they? ” You asked back

Joyce grabbed your arms and put pressure on it, you wanted to react, but her boyfriend pressed a knife against your side under the table “Don’t even try anything. Or Jamie will deflate you before you even have the chance to say a word” She threatened you, “Again. Where are they?”

Your heart thundered in her chest while you grimaced slightly in pain while the blade of the knife pressing against your side. “I...I swear I don't know who you are talking about Joyce” You implored her.

“Babe, is she that dumb?” Jamie grumbled “Jack and Jerry.”

“What about them?” you quavered

Joyce didn't have the time to say anything that the janitor came in the way. “Is everything ok kiddo?” He questioned

Jamie narrowed his eyes “She is fine! Now move grandpa” he spat

The harsh look the janitor gave Jamie made the three of you widen your eyes. Joyce let go of your arms and Jamie slide away from you. Both of them left the table without looking back at you.

The janitor’s face smoothed slightly and changed into a concerned look. “You ok kiddo?” he asked one more time

You nodded “Yes, thank you Mr…" you trailed off

“Singer. Bobby Singer,” he introduced himself “Don’t let those idjits…” He started, but he was interrupted by a black male came into the conversation

“Bobby. We need to go” He said not even paying attention to you

Bobby nodded before turning back to you, but once again he didn’t have a chance to speak anything that the man grabbed his shoulder and took him away from you. You observed them leave, linking Bobby already even with the little talk you had. He had saved you today.

Two days later

After the incident and Bobby’s help, nothing significant happened, aside from breaking your promise not to use magic again, but this was an emergency some of your classmates had been slowly disappearing. That’s when you understood what Joyce accused you of being behind those events. She was wrong, at least you hoped even indirectly related to the disappearance you didn’t want to be the one to blame for it. Now here you were with your book open on a tracking spell. All of the incantations were in Latin, and you weren't sure that you pronounced them correctly. Because let's be honest here Latin was the only class you had been failing this year and the fact that those spells even if they were fun to try were in Latin, didn't help you at all. Not to mention you barely understand any of it, you only hope it wasn't something wicked.

You took a deep breath before, chanted the last word of the spell as you dropped the powder inside the cauldron. A small explosion could be heard, and some smoke moved up, you waved off, then grabbed the white stone inside the container before putting it on the map. The second the rock touched the map. It melted like it was burning from the inside and turned into a silver liquid which moved around the map to form a circle around a group of houses. You frowned, it wasn’t specific, but at least you knew where those houses were.

You arrived at the house's neighborhood a few 25 minutes later. Your bike stopped near one of the houses, this area was new construction, and nobody would come here for any reason because some of them still needed to be built. You glanced at them one by one not sure which one you should check first; luckily you took the map with you, you pulled out of your backpack and opened it. You noticed the big circle slowly started to get smaller, as you walked and pushed your bike.

Night had come quickly, by the time you arrived in front of the right house. A big old house, you raised an eyebrow and tilted your head to the side ‘What the hell?’ You thought, wondering why this house was still there in the middle of all those new houses. You stared at it for a few minutes as you walked toward the manor, nervously because it was giving you the creep and you couldn’t shake a strange feeling. You walked into the house after a few moments of wrestling with the door.

Now that you were inside the house, the creepy feeling you had earlier was getting stronger. The door slamming shut itself, startling you. You placed your hand on your chest and tried to calm yourself. Your eyes traveled around the dim hallway, too dark for you to be able to see anything or your eyes to adjust to it. You took your backpack and searched for a lamp, but you didn’t seem to have anything else but the book when you realized the book was there one more time.

You sighed and shook your head ‘Shity book’ you thought.

Even though it was starting to get on your never, you pulled the book when you noticed the book was shining a little. Maybe you could use to walk around or just to find a spell to use, so you have lights in there? You ran the thought in your mind for a few seconds before kneeling down on the floor and putting the book down then flipped the pages until you found the right one.

You smiled “ ego indigeō lucis” (I need light) you repeated three times

You looked around for several minutes as nothing happened, you frowned and closed the book thinking you would just have to carry it around. You closed the book, but it wasn’t shining anymore. Magic was so complicated that you weren’t sure if you still like it. You put the book back in your backpack.

“How Am I going to see anything?” You wondered out loud.

Like someone turned the light on, your hands started to shine the same the book had a few moments ago, you widened your eyes and looked at your hands impress with everything. A smirk appeared on your face; you grabbed your backpack before starting to walk with a hand extended in front of you. As you walked into the vast and dark hallway with the only company the light shining from you had, you got startled by some rats running past you. You watched them go like there was something off about that. Well, rats running away has usually been a sign of danger.

“Hey You!?” someone called out

You turned to face a man, you weren't sure where you saw him before, but you didn't care because the look on his face when he saw your hand shining wasn't good at all, especially because he pulled his gun out “No don't! I am not here to hurt you" you quickly said, holding your hand up, but it wasn't a good idea because your hands started to shine more and slightly blind him making him groan

“Like hell you are!” He barked

Call it intuition or weird feeling, but you didn't feel like staying there and feel the consequences of this, so you turned around and ran away from him, and you were right. You heard the sound of the wind when a bullet came near you. You knew you made the right decision; you ran as fast as you could, not caring where you are going before falling your face first as someone jumped on you to pin you down on the floor.

“Please don't “ You begged as the person gripped at your shoulder to hold you on the floor

“Well, I’ll be damned”  The voice you recognized cursed

“Bobby?” You asked, surprise

“Watch her hand!" Another voice

“Get up" Bobby ignored the man and stood up. You obeyed putting your hand down not wanting to show them, but Bobby grabbed them, and the shining light was on again, “How can you do that?” He asked as the other male came next to you.

You barely had the time to say anything that the other man beat you “She is a witch! Bobby! I told you a witch was behind this” He grumbled showing Bobby the book he found in your back

You shook your head“No! I am not behind this! I am here to help them,” You protested

“Right! We are dumb and Dumber” the other man sneered

“Andrew. Let her answer” Bobby said then turned to face you “Listen (Y/N), we are not going to hurt you…” He began before being interrupted by Andrew  again

“Like hell we aren’t!” He hissed

You shrank back; Bobby let you have a small space between the two of you. However, he was still holding your hand “We are not going to kill you…Yet” Bobby corrected

You palled and tears formed in your eyes. You weren't sure if you were supposed to be happy or not with the fact that the place was dark “What!?” You fretted

“Just tell us where the other kids are and we might consider if you live or not” Andrew  maintained

Your breath quickened, and you pulled one of your hands away from Bobby’s grip “I.. I swear I didn't do anything to them. I… I just want to save them…. I used magic so that I could see in this hallway. Please don't kill me” You begged while your tears fell down your face

Bobby took the book from Andrew  “You know those books are dangerous. There is always a prize behind every spell this book does” He tried to calmly explain it to you.

“That’s not what the note says. I am not allowed to use this for personal gain otherwise I would lose people I care” You confess

“(Y/N) How can you not think about this being weird when you receive that kind of message” He scowled

Before you even had the chance to open your mouth, an invisible force thrown the 3 of you apart from each other. You gasped, and your heartbeat quickened, with a long bang your head hit furniture. All dizzy and barely able to stand with your arms falling along your side, a loud high sound in your ears as you tried to focus on your surroundings, yet failed as you passed out. Occasionally coming in and out, every time you did, you had to concentrate which take her almost all her strength each time. Only some images remained in your mind, with Bobby and Andrew fighting the best they could something, you weren't sure what exactly before you fainted for good not able to hold the pain in your head anymore.

You woke up after a few hours with the sound of the two voices bickering over something you barely or didn't care due to a huge headache you had. You tried to listen. However, your head didn't allow you to sneak on them. It needed too much concentration, and you didn't have the strength to do that. You just gave up and sat up in what looked like a bed “Could you keep down so my brain could rest a little” You said not caring whoever it was

“See Bobby Cinderella is awake now,” Andrew  said sarcastically

You massage your temples, trying to make the pain more bearable, of course, it failed as you watched Bobby come to you and sat next to you. “You look like I did something bad,” You told him

“More like several bad things. Princess” Andrew  said

“What my partners mean is, even though you saved our lives. You did put everyone's life in danger” Bobby said

You widened your eyes and shook your head “No. No, I didn’t hurt anyone. I promise” You blurted as tears came down your cheek.

“The spell you use of that book where market each time you used them. Do you even understand what they mean?” He asked

“Some I did,” You said as more tears fell down

“Oh please,” Andrew grumbled, “Listen, those were dangerous. You were sending each of your friends to a demon!” He fumed

“I...I am sorry” You sobbed “I...I didn’t know. I won’t do it again.”

Bobby nodded “Alright, as long as you stop that I am ok with that” He sent a glare to Andrew

Andrew shrugged “Yeah, don’t, or else we will have to kill you.”

You gasped “I promise I won’t,” You said

Andrew grabbed the book “We are taking this with us as insurance” He said putting the book in his bag before walking out of the room

You nodded, barely able to say anything as you only sob. Bobby shook his head at him, then helped you up. They brought you back to your house, luckily your parents weren't home, nobody to ask you any question. When you got to your room, the book was there again.

[naruto-oc-critiques]

do you think as generations pass, the sharingan would become less and less common in people with uchiha bloodlines or would basically every uchiha-descendant shinobi be able to awaken it? my fic takes place 2 generations after boruto ( so the boruto gang are grandparents ) with my main character being sarada's grandchild.

Applying genetics to Naruto is always risky business, because it assumes that anything makes sense in Naruto. But, that’s what we are here for.

There are so many factors that need to be considered here. But, most importantly, how easily it is inherited has to do with if it is a dominant or recessive trait.

Disclaimer: Genetics isn’t easy. I am not an expert, but I’m gonna do my best. This is all my year 10 Biology class has equipped me with. Also hoo boy this is a long one. So I’m read-moreing it.

I don’t know what you know about genetics, but even if you’re in the loop, I’ll give a rundown in case people don’t know. Some of these things are not entirely true and being oversimplified, but I’d rather we keep things simple. I will try to keep jargon to a minimum. There’s masks and mutations and all kinds of stuff I won’t mention. Yall, go off and do your own research. Don’t just take this as all you know. Genetics are interesting and worth looking into. But here we go.

A kid is built up of half/half of their parents. Let’s say everyone has two gene slots for each category that makes up who they are as a person. Their code.

Hair: _ + _ = visible hair colour

Eyes: _ + _ = visible eye colour

Each parent fills in one of those categories. But, some genes are more powerful than other genes.

Hair: PINK + PINK = PINK Hair: PINK + white = PINKHair: white + white = white

In this example, PINK overwrites white so it is considered a DOMINANT TRAIT. The white is hidden, so we’re counting it as a RECESSIVE TRAIT. So, a person would need two white genes to be have white hair. 

But, even if a person has a gene that doesn’t show up visibly, they can still carry the white gene. So, if they have a baby with another PINK/WHITE person or a WHITE/WHITE person, their baby can still come out with white hair.

So, in Sasuke’s and Sakura’s Sharingan cateogry, they have two ‘gene slots’ they inherited from their parents which programmed their body to either have sharingan or no sharingan.

Sasuke: sharingan + mystery gene = yes sharingan

Sakura: no sharingan + mystery gene = no sharingan

Sarada: sharingan (from sasuke) + mystery gene (from Sakura) = yes sharingan

Here’s a key. You know if there’s a key, things are about to get messy and creative.

So here’s what we know about genes:

You’re probably thinking. “Hey wait a second, so then the Sharingan is dominant right!? All of Sarada’s kids are going to inherit the Sharingan then!! And then their kids, and then their kids! The sharingan will live forever!! MWAHAHAHA!”

But … we can’t be that certain. We know that the Uchiha have the Sharingan, but not every Uchiha has the Sharingan by default, so it may not be a dominant trait. (Even though, dominant traits aren’t always inherited either.)

So it is possible that it’s recessive and requires both gene slots to be filled with the Sharingan code. In this case, because we know Sarada has the sharingan, it means that. Sakura would have also had the Sharingan hiding in her genetics, but that its been overwritten by a Dominant “NORMAL EYE” gene. Which is why I have both Sasuke and Sakura ‘?’

This isn’t necessarily impossible, because gene codes can hide in families for many generations and then pop up at random. If the Harunos had an Uchiha ancestor at some stage, she could have been hiding a Sharingan. (I do like to think we’d know in canon if Sakura did, but, you never know. Stranger things have happened.) We assume the Uchiha massacre was thorough, but if it

But now that this is explained, let’s do a little test to see what Sarada’s kids could possibly have. There are probabilities listed, but they’re probabilities of an individual. So, just because it’s 50% chance doesn’t mean that if they have two kids, one will have it and one won’t. Each kid has to face the odds on their own. Babies aren’t that calculated.

“Listen Bobby, I want to give you the Sharingan, but I gave one to the last baby” isn’t how it works. It could be 50% and 0 kids get the Sharingan. Thems the breaks.

Here are the recessive genes! You need two ‘red ticks’ to get the Sharingan in these scenarios.

Here are the dominant scenarios! They only need one red tick to have the Sharingan.

This Wildcard means that if Sarada’s mystery slot was a Sharingan, the kid would have 100% chance Sharingan. If the slot was Normal Eyes, it would be 50% Sharingan. Sakura has no Sharingan, so we know it’s not the case, so Sarada’s kids would have 50/50. But this is important to consider for the rest of the Uchiha’s pre-Massacre, so I thought I’d mention it here.

Okay we’ve got Sarada’s kid’s possibilities covered. Let’s look at Sarada’s kid’s children.

First the recessives! (Two red ticks needed)

Now the dominant! (One red tick needed)

But hey! Now to add another level of difficulty!!

Thanks genetics you piece of trash!

Sharingan is a mutation. I told y’all I wouldn’t involve these but I didn’t want to scare you off. It’s a mutated Rinnengan. Because Madara siphoned off some of that good good wood boy’s Senju chakra, he was closer to an ‘undilluted’ blend of chakra which activated the Rinnegan. So Rinnegan gene = Sharigan gene, but without the chakra needed to make it Rinnegan.

It seems to suggest that the Sharingan’s potency is effected by Chakra. In this way could it be ‘dilluted’ by other’s chakra down the line? It’s possible. But, it’s also possible that it’s at a sustained dilution? Like, Uchihas have already become the base level of human diluted and this is no longer something that needs to be considered.

Chakra inheritance could matter!! Which, isn’t a surprise. Genes sometimes need a lot of specific lines of codes in specific spots. So yeah! Chakra inheritance is possibly also a factor. This means your OC could inherit the eye gene, but not inherit the chakra gene and such. Don’t worry too much about this one, I just thought it was important to mention.

NOT ENOUGH LEVELS OF DIFFICULTY YOU SAY?

How about this!? This one does matter!!

Sharingan isn’t entirely genetic! Lifestyle factors matter as well! The Sharingan is activated in response to an emotional event!

So the good news is that possibly Sharingan is indeed dominant - meaning that it’s easily inherited, meaning that ‘The Uchihas who don’t have it’ simply didn’t have cause to activate it - how cushy were their lives?? Did they activate during the massacre?? (Or there was some normie blood in there that meant more of them were carrying the “No Sharingan trait” and passing it around the clan haha.)

This means that all your OCs have a good chance of inheriting it! Sarada’s kid might have inherited the Sharingan, but never have activated. But, Sarada’s activates because of the excitement of meeting Sasuke … so it feels weird to think that nobody will have an emotion that strong in their life?? I feel like it also may have to do with personality - if your emotions are always strong, it’d be hard to top that, or maybe you’re so unemotional all the time, it’s difficult to get to that point?

Anyway, it’s possible that every single one of Sarada’s kids and grandkids inherited the Sharingan, but never activated, and there becomes less users that way! But it does mean that if the Sharingan dies out, it’s not coming back.

TLDR: It’s possible and more likely to happen if dominant. There’s a good argument for dominant.

But if it’s recessive, it would be very unlikely that Uchiha gene carriers would be plentiful. That would mean it’s possible for several generations to go by and then have some pop up at random. Also much more entirely possible for it to die out.

If people try to yell at you for it, just send them to this post and you won’t need to explain it.

Let’s hope it’s a dominant trait, otherwise the Sharingan is Sharingone!

-R

[blackgirltalksback]

Cardi B Refuses to Be Our Cinderella

It’s the morning of Christmas and after hours of sulking in bed, I drag myself to the kitchen to help my mother with dinner.

“I’m sad,” I exhale over a sink of dirty dishes, “Offset cheated on Cardi.”

My mother, always up on the latest celebrity gossip, responds with her repertoire of questions and theories that ultimately ends with a neat solution: “She should just leave him, she can do better.” Not in my mother’s direct line of sight, I roll my eyes and give a cute “mhmm” at this weak consolation. The only thing I can see at the moment is my steaming anger, my solution being: she has to kill him.

Just a few days prior, I was talking to friends about our love and excitement for the 25 year-old Bronx rapper whose winning streak seemed endless - landing covers of top magazines like Fader and Rolling Stone, big endorsement deals with companies like Steve Madden, chart-topping songs on US and Latin Billboard charts, a Grammy nomination, and a marriage proposal in front of thousands. Everyone knew 2017 was Cardi’s year, yet still I could sense the angst many of us were feeling about her quick rise to fame. Something was going to tarnish the sparkle of Cardi B’s reign. As she herself prophesied, something bad always comes after so much good.

The news of Offset’s infidelity broke only two days after she dropped her second single, "Bartier Cartier." The fairy tale life we had dreamed up for Cardi B was cast from our grips and I began to loathe Offset–the one to block her shine. The man who she openly loved and bragged about in her lyrics, was now responsible for the media circus that cast a dark cloud over her song release.

Later that night, at Christmas dinner, I make my obligatory men are trash comments and plan to take my apple pie to go. I didn’t want to stick around for the “not all men” retorts, but one could imagine my face when my mother for the first time ever defends my feminist sentiments and chimes in with “she’s right!” Shocked, I remain seated listening to my grandmother struggle to list men in our family that might not be assigned to the dumpster pile, while my mother and aunt sat at the edge of their seats ready to counter with the trashcan behaviors of any man she named. At this point, I am flabbergasted. How has my mother found her way to the winning team?! Writing this helped me discover the answer: Belcalis Almanzar.

My mother’s love for Cardi B is unmatched to the point that she has taken to referring to the young superstar as her daughter. Never has my mother embraced a celebrity in this way but seeing this shift helped me to understand my own embrace of Cardi and other Black woman stars alike.

My sister and I are our mother’s princesses, literally and figuratively. Still to this day, my mother greets me with “Hi, Mommy’s Princess!” In the figurative sense, she sees us as the perfectly good, innocent, beautiful young women who will grow up to live the picturesque life - get married, have a career, bear children and live happily ever after.  Now that Cardi is no longer living the hustler life, she fits perfectly into that mold. Her star-studded career, tall dark fiancé, and unrelenting desire to settle down and have some babies made her the quintessential princess adoptee in the eyes of my mother. Perhaps, then, my mother and I found solidarity in our disdain of men because we were loving the same woman in a similar vein - we revered Cardi and only wanted the best for her. Any person that threatened her happiness, threatened our happiness.

But I, unlike my mother, held many Black women in this light. So when I listened to Jay-Z confirm the cheating rumors and go into detail about Beyoncé’s miscarriages, I could feel myself reeling out of my shoes as I stomped down Greenwich Street. I felt a similar kind of rage-filled hurt when the photos of Rihanna’s battered face were disgustingly released by TMZ when I heard Evelyn Braxton talk about the violence she witnessed Tamar experience at the hands of Vince Herbert, and when I learned of my mother’s experience with abuse at the hands of my father. When I learn that any woman I love is being harmed by a person they trust, love, have children with, defend even, the sadness sits in, the hurt feels like my own, I wear it. To witness the women I hail be harmed, be violated, be betrayed, the first thing I want to do is to get them out of harm’s way, and the second, is attack. I want to maim the offender out of love for the person I hold dear, but also in fierce protection, like a mother shields their child, or like a kingdom safeguards their princess.  

But Cardi is not a princess, and has explicitly rejected that narrative, despite it being layered on her by so many, including radio hosts, fellow celebrities, and everyday fans. Nor is she the first Black woman celeb to deliberately renounce her crown. We might read Whitney Houston’s decision to date and later marry Bobby Brown as a rejection of being dubbed America’s Sweetheart, or Rihanna’s nude instagram posts smoking marijuana as her rejection of the label, "Pop Princess." The same could be said for Beyoncé’s entire self-titled album and Janet Jackson’s Control. I, myself, have struggled with with this labeling by not just my mother but by teachers, peers, and lovers.

Any sign of opposition to the pure, ladylike image of a princess by young Black girls was and is still met by an intense policing of our language, physical appearance and the company we keep. If you were caught using profanity, if you wore booty shorts, if you dyed or shaved your hair, if you had lip piercings, if you decided to not to go straight to college, if you acted in a way that seemed  "loose" or "ghetto," and/or were close with anyone seen as such, someone was going to tell you about yourself.

As I get older and less attached to pleasing my mother, I see all the ways that Princesshood is coded with heterosexism, classism, and a misogynoir that renders young Black women infantile. No matter their age, Black women are seen as impressionable and mindless, their decisions read as lacking in sound judgment. Through the lens of Princesshood, my desire to then sneak out of the house was because of my “hoodrat” friends, my queerness now is a phase, and my growing collection of piercings and tattoos is bodily experimentation and a refusal to grow up rather than an exercise of personal and bodily autonomy.

If Black women celebrities are consistently read as the princess, then we, the audience start to act as the monarch. We begin to impose our beliefs and ideas of a proper heiress on these women and we do so with the paternalistic understanding that it is in their best interest, and that only we, so empowered by the internet, know what those best interests are. Therefore, to dismantle our own attachment to princesshood, we must ask ourselves: 1) What informs our ideas of how we believe Cardi should behave? and 2) Why do we think we know what is best for this woman?

In the rags to riches Cinderella story, the rags are eventually discarded and replaced with a more glamorous image. As Cardi rose to fame, we were quick to praise her outspokenness, her wit, her feminist takedowns of men like Peter Gunz. Now we seem even quicker to make sure she hides any remnants of her rags as she takes claim of her throne. “She’s at the Grammy’s, why she still addressing the haters?” So many of us are quick to police and ridicule Cardi for not letting up on her responses to trolls (something even Oprah does), hoppin’ in some beef, and her fierce commitment to Offset and her outward love and affection for him.

Her ratchetness is profitable, entertaining, and appealing until it ain’t. Cardi can rap about her haters like our Queen Beyonce in “***Flawless”, but she can’t actually be willing to curse out a hater in her comments. These critiques of Cardi don’t just reek of misogynoir, they are riddled with contempt for the poor, for the working-class, for the hood. In the age of social media, where celebrities’ interpersonal decisions are blasted on our timelines for the sake of commentary warfare, it is easy for folks to disguise their paternalism as advice and a genuine desire to see Cardi grow. Put comments like “She is too famous to be popping out like this” in the context of Princesshood and these comments read as a public scolding that fits into a respectability understanding of maturity prescribed as the ability for one to essentially ascend hood behavior.

"I felt like my life was mine. Now I feel like I don’t even own my life. I feel like the world owns me. It’s crazy because I never been the type of person to ever really care about anything. I never had to censor myself. Now I feel like everybody is so sensitive, and it’s sad. Some people have written me off or tried to make me feel like I’m something I’m not or wanted to tell me how to manage my relationship."  -- Cardi B, CR Fashion Book, February 2018

A few days after Christmas, my mother drives me to the bus back to New York City. During the ride, she tries to insinuate that my father has lost his daughter to the city I now call home. Her insinuation that some part of me has died, annoyed and hurt me; my response being: “You really need to pack whatever fantasies, whatever ideas you have of me up in a box and mourn them.” It was time to put her princess dreams to rest. And I think it is time we as fans, as lovers of these Black woman artists, do the same for our oppressive dreams of Cardi.

Cardi B is not – and refuses to be – the container for our greatest srtivings and desires. It makes us uncomfortable to read why she has decided to stay with Offset despite his infidelity because of its rawness. The insecurities that Cardi wears on her sleeve is of her very essence. Seeing Cardi live so unabashedly, so openly, makes us squeamish, because she doesn’t hide what still lingers even when you get the success you reach for. What if we see the threat to our loved one’s happiness as the very person themselves?

I have now come to trust that Cardi B is with Offset because it is the best decision for her, I trust her to make that decision as a young woman, and I trust that she will leave Offset if and when she goddamn pleases. My anger with that man is all my own and it is not Cardi who asked me to carry it. When we seek to fight the battles of our loved ones, especially without permission, we strip them of their agency. Cardi doesn’t need saving from Offset, from her haters, or herself. She got this far by listening to her own voice, and it is that self- awareness that will protect her.

Rather than a princess, Cardi B is the mirror, reflecting back to us our own frailties. In response to our vain pondering, “Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, who's the finest of them all?” Cardi laughs tongue out and says in her Bronx accent: go find out your fuckin' self. She’s not going to do the labor of living out our antiquated fantasies of glamour and success. Still, in the persistency of her gangsta girl refusal, Cardi opens up a new world of infinite possibilities of success that are inclusive of Black women and/or femmes who the princess mold was never meant to encompass in the first place. That is the magic of these photos from Cardi's February i-D magazine feature taken by Oliver Hadlee Pearch. In the words of parenting coach, Dr. Shefali Tsabary, the Black bodies we see in these photos are flying, "danc[ing] to a song that revels in freedom." If you've ever been in a room when Cardi comes on, you have witnessed this reveling. It is those enchanting, liberating moments that compel me to only celebrate the woman who gave me the music, to honor all the unpolished ways that she lives out loud and inspires all that encounter her light to do the same.