#she is not an abuser herself but she's not only aided and abetted them

[margridarnauds]

I'm seeing some sympathy for Melissa Nathan in the entire Blake Lively scandal and...honestly, I'm usually very keen to keep things in perspective when it comes to women VS men getting blamed but...you don't ACCIDENTALLY stumble into a career where you're slandering other women, particularly abuse victims, for money. You don't ACCIDENTALLY and clear-headedly take advantage of structural misogyny in order to organize a worldwide smear campaign against multiple women. You don't ACCIDENTALLY start a company that specializes in PR crisis management (which, again, has taken multiple cases where the "crisis management" was "slander the victim.") It's the pinnacle of the original definition of "girlboss" to walk over other women in order to enrich yourself, and she's done that, to multiple women.

You could be a celebrity PA. You could be a social media manager. You could be any number of things that do NOT require you to do that, but she chose to. That doesn't mean that Justin Baldoni did nothing wrong -- he did EVERYTHING wrong, but she went along with it, and we have the texts highlighting it. I have roughly as much sympathy for her as I have for Ghislaine Maxwell. And I'm sorry, but after a period of thought and reflection on my feminism and whether my hatred for this particular woman stems from internalized misogyny, I maintain that I think that if there's such a thing as hell, she's going to get her own special place in it.

I have sympathy for customer service workers. I have sympathy for people working shitty minimum wage jobs to support their families, including for shitty companies. I don't have sympathy for her, and I'm glad that her shitty, shitty actions get to face public scrutiny.

[otnesse]

Never really understood the whole thing about woman is man's trophy being a 50s stereotype. None of the 50s shows I saw gave that impression, and even Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty never really delved into that aspect (instead covering escaping abuse and saving a woman from being in a coma), not even the clips I did see in Making Sense of the Sixties. And to be honest, while less than ideal compared to full-fledged partners, even being a trophy is still surprisingly respectful to women ultimately since it implies that they ARE valued in an irreplacable way. I can name far more unflattering treatment of women than man's trophy, like I don't know, man's used car being sold off for a cheaper model that they'll then trash and replace again and again (that description fits far better regarding viewing women as disposable, which IS truly a heinous view of women). Here's the thing about trophies, you NEVER try to damage the trophy, and if you do, you sink money into trying to make sure it's fixed, and you view it as extremely valuable due to matching an accomplishment, being irreplacable. Why would anyone try to damage or replace a trophy they own, knowing that? I mean, if it were something like what Sartre did with various girls (which if anything was a rejection of 50s morality, and heck, one of the pioneers of 2nd wave feminism, Simone de Beauvoir, aided and abetted Sartre by essentially acting as his procuress/madame), that's one thing and I'd agree with that due to that truly being terrible.

Beyond that tidbit, I definitely agree, a girl choosing to marry a guy should NEVER be considered weak at all. Was Ariel weak for going for Eric? No. If anything, the one time she might have come across as even slightly weak was when her father blew up her grotto, when she fell vulnerable to Flotsam and Jetsam's manipulations (and even THERE, she at least did refuse them outright when they directly suggested going to Ursula, requiring them to do a sleight of hand to get her to change her mind). And I didn't really see any weakness from any of the girls in past DP stuff over guys. I saw strength ultimately, a different variation of strength than what's generally envisioned, but strength nevertheless. And even Peach/Toadstool, she's shown strength as well (in fact, ironically, the initial reason why she was repeatedly kidnapped by Bowser is because she was a huge threat to his attempted conquest, basically being a huge line of defense for the Mushroom Kingdom). I think the only time I've EVER seen a character literally be reduced to utter weakness over love was the climax of Beauty and the Beast regarding Beast where he made no attempt to defend himself or even his servants due to heartbreak over having to let Belle go even after getting advance notice from Mrs. Potts that the castle was under attack (and literally only managing to start fighting back at all after seeing Belle was physically nearby), which is actually one of the things looking back that I genuinely hated how it went especially when it acted as a true waste of Beast's development in the end (and may have even been an early hint at Woolverton's misandry that would rear its ugly head with Maleficent). To give a contrast, while Ariel DID show heartbreak when Eric seemingly chose Vanessa over herself, and also similarly let Eric go, when she learned from Scuttle that Vanessa was in fact Ursula and the latter had brainwashed Eric, she wasted no time trying to reach the wedding ship to save him, and when she got abducted by Ursula in the climax, Eric went out of his way to grab a boat and pursue them, even managing to graze Ursula after tracking her via the spell to doom Triton.

And yeah, also didn't like that f/f rationale, either. I've seen nasty depictions of women, and I've had a fair share of times where women treated me, a guy, badly, yet I never lost my attraction to women. If I can keep my heterosexuality regardless of either seeing bad depictions of women in media, or even being badly treated by women in the past, I'm pretty sure women can keep their heterosexuality as well regardless of being treated badly by men. I also didn't like the rationale of f/f, heck, m/m for that matter where they decide they must be that due to being bad at dating the opposite sex or weren't social. Seriously? Speaking as someone diagnosed with Autism/Aspergers, I get genuinely frightened with social interaction, also constantly fret that I made ANY errors in social interaction, one time blowing off a person I talked with because I feared I screwed up regarding interacting with her. Yet I NEVER felt any attraction to the same sex, it was purely the opposite sex for me.

Want to know what else is a bad fandom trait? Treating a female character becoming a mother as if she's become weak. I've literally seen that happen with Misty from Pokemon, where the so-called fans bashed her having Togepi for making her weak and a background object (when if anything she actually seemed to gain even more development after that), and yet no complaints over how Misty was implied to be a punching bag with the horrid treatment of Gym Leaders in AG that were a downgrade from Johto and even Kanto (who for better or worse at least were actually SHOWN to be forces to be reckoned with rather than JJM clones).

Fandom Problem #4147:

I hate hate hate "she doesn't NEED a man" as a way of indicating that a woman is supposed to be 'strong because it suggests that, if she HAD a boyfriend that means' shes completely helpless to do anything without him, when that's not really what relationships are supposed to be FOR? Maybe, just maybe, she'd LIKE to have companionship? Not necessarily a hero, savior, or errand boy?

We don't say that male characters "don't NEED a woman". Even "progressive" people keep defaulting to seeing M/F couples as "guy = Person who Does Things & girl = Mindless Trophy & Sex Receptacle" and that the only way to have a Girl who Does Things is if she stays a pure single Virgin Mary or gets paired up with a woman.

[wonderswritings]

Drawing digital and people are not my strongest, but I tried

General:

Name: Arabella Kent

Alias(s): Bel, Grim

Codename: Reaper

Gender: Female (she/her)

Nationality: American

Birthday: January 4th, 1993

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Appearance:

Face Claim: Adelaide Kane

Eye Color: Cognac Brown

Hair Color: Dark Chocolate Brown

Height: 5’4

Build: Lean Muscular

Blood Type: O-

Personality:

Arabella is cold and detached- emotionless. Since she grew up in a black site lab, she wasn’t around other kids or anyone remotely her age, so she keeps to herself.

She's the definition of antisocial. She doesn’t form emotional attachments to others due to her father’s mistreatment and she doesn’t trust anyone. She keeps everyone at arm's length, and refuses help from others.

She's not outspoken- it was ingrained into her from a young age to follow orders and to always obey- without question. When given an order, she'll follow through, without fail, always.

Family:

Siblings: None

Mother: Margaret ‘Maggie’ Kent. Local florist diagnosed with cancer a year after Arabella’s birth. She died three years later, a week shy of Arabella’s fourth birthday. 

Father: Christopher ‘Chris’ Kent. Government scientist turned traitor. On the run from the US militaries and considered an enemy of the state after aiding and abetting terrorists. 

Background:

Arabella’s mom died of cancer when she was four. Her dad, a scientist working for the government, was devastated. Every time he looked at Arabella, he saw his wife, causing him to start to resent her. Her mom died, but she lost her dad too. After moving them away from the only place she knew as home, he began to experiment on her. For years, he ran tests and experiments on her. When she was fifteen, men in black raided the place that’d become her home. Her dad went on the run while they saved her, freeing her from his clutches. They moved her to another black site, keeping her there- they couldn’t just release her into the world, her only interactions were with adults who abused her, not other people. Over the years she was moved from black site to black site, when General Shepherd took over as her handler. It was under his recommendation that she joined the task force.

Concept:

Arabella mostly relies on her speed, agility, and silence, mainly seen as an 'assassin' type.

Mainly wears dark colors. She keeps her clothing lightweight and flexible, rather than the heavy bulk others wear.

Mask:

Her mask is a hard metal point skeleton that comes in two pieces, a cover for her eyes and a cover for her mouth.

Proficient with knives, keeping many on her person, the most noticeable being the two kunai throwing knives on her lower back and the MTech MX-8054 blade on her lower calf. Her favorite knife is the MTech MT-20-63BK that she has hidden on her person.

I can't wait to start posting this series! Not sure when I'll start posting, but hopefully it'll be sometime soon!

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Stronger Together

"Dreamer!"

Lena's alarm sears across Nia's senses. She registers the danger at the corner of her eye-- a Brevakk ripping off his sleeves to expose the keratinized spurs protruding from his arms. One sweep of his arm and she'll be dead, skewered in a spray of thick quills sharp enough to penetrate her suit and lacerate any organ they could reach. But she's locked in battle with a K'hund attacking from the front, so all she can do is brace for the inevitable impact.

Suddenly, Nia's view of the Brevakk is eclipsed by the shadow of Lena's back.

"NO!"

The force of the thorns' impact knocks Lena fron her feet, slamming into Nia and causing them both to go down with a cry. Lena's gauntlet fires once, stunning the Brevakk with a glancing blow. Nia throws her own arm out towards her opponent in a desperate bid to gain some ground. The blast of dream energy sends him flying, and when Nia doesn't notice that he doesn't rise again. Her attention is locked on Lena, and the half dozen quills that have found a home in her chest.

"Lena, Lena, oh my god." Nia's hands shake as she climbs out from under Lena and kneels beside her on the pavement. "No, no, no..."

Lena's eyes are glassy and dazed. She looks down at the horns, reaching drunkenly towards them only for Nia to pull her hands away.

"Why did you do that?"

Nia's suit wouldn't have helped much, but it was better than Lena's blouse-- a silly silken thing now ripped and torn, digging into the edges of the wounds around the quills. Lena had no protection beside her gauntlet, and still she had jumped between them.

"N-nia..." Lena's voice crackles in her throat. She coughs, and blood spatters across her chin, staining her berry-red lips a color far more sinister.

Nia's heart lurches with panic. Her head whips up in search of Kara, but Supergirl isn't here. She's on the other side of the city with J'onn, fighting further unrest there. Her eyes lock on another figure, black leather instead of blue.

"ALEX!!"

Nia's shriek cuts through the din, and Sentinel's head whips towards her. In an instant, the pistol in her hand shifts into a warhammer, and Alex slams it down on her opponent, all thoughts of mitigating casualties forgotten. She skids to her knees beside Nia, nearly elbowing her out of the way to crouch over Lena.

"Lena? Jesus... Lena! Can you hear me? Look at me, look at me--"

Lena's eyes track to Alex, and Nia chokes on a sob when she sees the fear in them. But Alex only calms.

"Good, you're okay," Alex tells her, stroking Lena's hair once with a gentle hand. "You're going to be okay."

With her free hand, Alex fumbles for the watch on Lena's wrist, flipping open its face and silently pressing the symbol embossed there. She doesn't take her eyes off Lena for a moment, and when the signal is active Alex slides her palm into Lena's, which curls tightly around hers.

"H-hurts--"

Lena's breath begins to quicken, and the corners of her eyes pinch with the onset of pain. The shock is quickly wearing off, leaving nothing to dull the pain. Alex nods, giving Lena's hand a squeeze.

"I know, but it's going to be okay," she promises. "We're going to get you somewhere safe--"

Supergirl touches down at the moment, pavement cracking beneath the force of her panic. "Lena!!"

Kara kneels opposite her sister, taking in the damage with wide eyes. She grips Lena's free hand tightly, even as she looks to Alex for instructions.

"Hospital," Alex says simply, urgency clipping her tone. "Now."

Kara nods, and gently maneuvers Lena into her arms. Lena cries out, the sound sharp in Nia's ears. When Nia blinks, tears dampen the fabric of her mask.

"I'm sorry," Kara murmurs, pressing her nose to the side of Lena's head. "I'm sorry."

"K-kar--" Lena gasps for breath, coughing up more blood. Her back now visible, Nia sees that one of the thorns has penetrated so deeply that it tents the back of Lena's shirt.

"It's okay," Kara echoes the well-meaning lie of her sister. "I've got you."

In a burst of wind, Kara takes off, and Nia sits dazed in her wake. It's long moments before she registers Alex's insistent hands tugging her up.

"It was supposed to be me," Nia intones, flat with shock. "She--"

"I know," Alex cuts her off, not unkindly. She tugs Nia to her feet then shoves her into a run. "But we need to go. Now!"

Together, they make their retreat, leaving the alley and the unconscious aliens behind just as the distant wail of approaching sirens cuts through the air.

---

Nia wastes no time in stripping off her costume and changing back into her civvies. But before she can reach the exit, Alex cuts her off. "You can't go to the hospital."

Surprise jolts through Nia, before its quickly replaced with anger. "Are you insane?"

"Nia--"

"I can't just wait here-- she-- those barbs were meant for me, Alex! She's hurt because of me. I can't not be there!"

"Kara just called."

Time seems to freeze. Nia feels ice pool in her veins as a lump climbs to her throat and lodges there. "No..."

Alex rushes to reassure her. "No! That's not-- no, Lena's still in surgery. But-- the police are there."

Nia's relief that Lena is alive cuts short with confusion. "What? Why?"

"They're there to take Lena into custody."

"They can't do that!"

"She's aided and abetted known vigilantes," Alex explains. "With everything that's been happening lately--"

"It's not right!"

"Lena will be fine. Truly. Kara is going to CatCo to get Andrea to make the arrest as public as possible. Between that and the Luthor reputation, my guess is that they'll question her about our identities and then let her go."

"That's-- that's--" Nia struggles to find words through her growing rage. The helplessness of the past few months, the rising anti-alien sentiments, the crackdown on Supergirl on her friends... it all comes to a head, and Nia can barely breathe.

Alex reaches for Nia's hand. "If you go now, you'll only risk exposing yourself. Lena wouldn't want that."

Nia sucks in a breath, but it comes in a sob. The next thing she knows, Alex's arms are around her and she's crying into her shoulder, huge lurching sobs that feel like the world is quaking around her.

"It's okay," Alex promises.

"It's my fault," Nia gasps. "It's all my fault..."

"Lena's going to be okay."

---

Nia may not be able to go to the hospital, but she can't stay in the Tower either. In the end she goes to CatCo, ready to throw her weight behind Kara's pitch to fry the police in the press. Luckily, Andrea doesn't need the convincing.

"I want both of you on this," their boss delivers with a coolness sharpened to a razors edge by the glint of rage in her eyes. "William too. I want you to dig up anything you can find about the arresting officers. Any whisper of corruption within the NCPD that you might have been sitting on, now is your time to air it. CatCo won't stand for this."

Nia and Kara both nod solemnly before retreating to their desks. But instead of diverting to her own desk, Kara follows Nia to hers.

"How are you holding up?"

The gentle question threatens a resurgence of tears. Nia looks away, only for her eyes to catch on the photo of her and Lena on her desk, taken at one of their sister nights the year before. Nia can't remember the last time they've hung out, just the two of them.

Blinking furiously, Nia flips the picture down and opens up her laptop. "Fine."

"It's okay to not be fine..."

"Do you want to know if I'm angry that my friend is alone in the hospital because of me? Fine! I'm angry!"

Kara's features soften. "Nia..."

"It's my fault she's there in the first place!" Nia hisses. The lump returns to her throat, and her eyes burn with unshed tears. "She just, just... she just jumped between us! I should've--"

"Hey." Kara calms her with a hand on her shoulder. Nia sucks in a breath, then another, trying to steady herself. Finally, Kara's features pinch into a bemused smile. "You know Lena... There's no line she won't cross, for the people she cares about."

Instead of comforting her, Kara's words only makes Nia grit her teeth. She turns back to the computer. They better be willing to do the same for her.

"Let's get to work."

----

The first article runs the following morning, skewering the police department for rampant anti-alien abuses while highlighting Lena's charity and outreach. While it's not quite enough to banish the police presence from the hospital, it does get a single visitor in to see Lena. Nia expects Kara to take it, but to her surprise Kara simply nods her towards the door.

"Go," Kara says softly. "Give her our love."

Nia doesn't stop to ask twice. She's ushered into Lena's hospital room by a kindly looking nurse, glaring at the officer posted outside the door on her way in. The second her eyes land on Lena, rage swells in her chest at the side of the handcuffs tethering Lena to the bed.

"Is that really necessary?" she demands, balling her hands into fists. "Where is she going to go?"

"Nia..." Lena's soft voice from the bed interrupts her before she can gather much steam. "It's okay."

Nia huffs, eyeing the way the officer slowly moves his hand from his sidearm when Nia turns back to the room. But then all she can see is Lena, hair limp and torso bulky with bandages under her hospital gown.

"It's not okay," Nia says, sitting in the chair thats been placed next to Lena's bed.

"It's just a misunderstanding," Lena insists, her gaze sliding towards the door. The door itself remains open, denying them any sense of privacy. But Lena doesn't seem to mind when her gaze returns to Nia. "You okay?"

Nia chokes on her own tongue. "Am I--? Lena, you're in the hospital..."

"And I'm okay." Lifting her cuffed wrist, Lena silently reaches for Nia's hand, which Nia offers without hesitation. "Promise."

All of a sudden, the tears come back, pressing against her eyelids as she squeezes her eyes shut. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry--"

"It's okay," Lena assures her. "I'm okay."

"You shouldn't have--"

"Been there in the alley? When that guy tried to mug me?" Lena asks pointedly. Clearly, she's already established her cover story. "You're right, I should have known better." She pitches her voice loud enough to carry to the door. "I'm just lucky Sentinel and Dreamer were there to help me."

They wait a moment to listen for a response, but when none comes, they devolve into a fit of giggles.

"Ow," Lena grimaces with a cough. "No laughing for a while."

Nia tightens her grip on Lena's hand. "I... Lena, I'm so sorry--"

"I'd do it again," Lena returns, softly this time. Her words are for Nia alone. "That's what friends do."

---

Alex turns out to be right. As soon as Lena is well enough to leave the hospital, she's taken to the precinct for interrogation, but between CatCo's articles stirring up enough local support that a crowd forms around the precinct to protest the arrest, and the kind of lawyers a Luthor can acquire even after abandoning the family legacy, Lena is released without charge in a matter of hours.

Nia stays at the Tower hoping to see her, but Lena doesn't come.

"She's guessed she's probably being watched," Alex tells her. "She'll being laying low for a while til the heat dies down. All the better, honestly. It'll give her time to heal."

Nia swallows thickly. "Where is she?"

"Home. Kara's with her, but I'm sure she'd love to see you."

Nia approaches Lena's condo without much of a plan. She's armed with snacks and movies, but she knows that having Kara there won't give Nia the time with Lena she needs. She misses Lena, all more the more since she realized how long it had been since they'd just been... friends. More than allies, more than teammates, just... friends.

It feels like Maeve all over again.

But she swallows her nerves and takes the elevator up. Kara opens the door just as Nia lifts her hand to knock.

"Hey," Kara says quietly. She steps aside to let Nia in, and though she can hear the tv from the next room, they linger in the foyer.

"Is everything okay?" Kara asks.

Nia nods. "Yeah. Um. I just--"

She doesn't have an explanation either. Nia stares at her feet, until Kara breaks the silence.

"Look, I have a favor to ask..."

"Yeah?"

"Would you mind staying with Lena for a few hours?"

When Nia looks up, she finds Kara scrubbing the back of her head with one hand, looking sheepish.

"Yeah," she continues, "I've been kind of... hovering? And I think it's getting on her nerves a little. So I figured I could get some stuff done at CatCo--"

"Yes," Nia blurts. "Yes, of course. I'll stay."

Kara grins. "Thanks. She's in the living room now, if you want to..."

"Right. Yeah, I've got this. Go."

Kara thanks her with another smile that makes her whole face shine. "Call if you need anything."

She slips out the door with a wink, and locks it behind her. Nia walks to the living room on wooden legs, and finds Lena laying on the couch against a pile of pillows, propping her up to take the pressure off her wounds.

She looks up when Nia enters, and though her eyes are tired, her features crease into a smile. "Hey..."

"Hey."

Lena struggles to sit up, prompting Nia to close the distance swiftly. "No, no, no, stay comfy."

Relenting with a sigh, Lena groans. "Not like I have much choice these days."

"It'll get better."

Silence follows. Nia stands awkwardly, hands gripping her bag of candy tightly until Lena regards it with curiosity.

"What's all this?"

Nia starts. "Oh. Uhm... I thought-- well, I was wondering..." She trails off, shoulders slumping. "It's been a while since we've had sister's night."

When Lena doesn't answer, Nia risks a glance up to find Lena blinking in astonishment, before her features soften to warmth. She smiles.

"Well, there's no time like the present."

Lena lifts her arms, making playful grabby motions with her hands.

"What'd you bring me?"

----

Hours later, Kara returns home to find Nia seated on the couch with Lena's legs across her lap. It's as close to cuddling as Lena can get, with her injuries, and the way Nia's hands are spread over Lena's shins tells Kara that the contacr was very much needed.

Lena sleeps peacefully, the tv low in the background. Nia looks up at Kara from the shadows, the light reflecting in the tear tracks painted on her cheeks. Without a word, Kara slips in next to Nia, working her way under Lena's ankles to wrap one arm around the younger girl's shoulders.

Nia hugs her back, shaking quietly with the effort to keep her crying silent.

"It's okay," Kara whispers. Nia nods against her. So long as they were all together, they could get through anything.

"We're going to be okay."

[tressasinterlude]

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓 #𝟑: Female Public Figures Dating Men with Questionable Views That Contradict Their Image & Alleged Politics

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗥: These rant blog posts are really just reflective of my thoughts at the time that I make them and are posted here because I need an outlet to release all of this shit I have going on my busy ass mind. That’s it and that’s all. Now let’s get into it..

This rant was greatly inspired by none other than Ms. Robyn Rihanna “Tell Your Faves To Pull Up [in regards to social injustices directly affecting black people]” Fenty and her openly colorist boyfriend, A$AP Rocky. Aside from the fact that Rihanna tends to slip under the radar and is never held accountable for her problematic ways due to her conventional beauty (i.e. Her heavy usage of anti-Asian slurs, particularly targeted towards Chris Brown’s ex gf, Karrueche), it’s very alarming that a woman who has an entire makeup brand with a campaign based around the inclusivity of ALL black women is publicly flaunting a beau who once said that DSBW do not look good with red lipstick.

And yes, I’m very much aware that Rakim said this tasteless comment over 8 years ago but from the looks of it, not much has really changed with him. Don’t @ me about it neither because I don’t care.

Also peep how he compares a hypothetical darkskinned woman to a man (Wesley Snipes) while trying to explain how his antiblackness isn’t wrong because he said something about white women as well. Gaslighting at its finest. Don’t you just love it! 😀

Furthermore, you would think that somebody of Rihanna’s level of stature would know not to associate themselves with someone as messy as A$AP Rocky but... Stupid is what stupid does, I guess! I can’t even begin to place the blame on him anymore because he’s revealed his true colors and we all have made the deliberate choice to either accept it or don’t and have discontinued all support for him. Unfortunately, misogynoir is never the dealbreaker for most people and the hatred for [dark-skinned] black women is so engrained in society that it’s frowned upon when we publicly speak out against it. Very ass backwards if you ask me but that’s society for you. Now, enough about that. Let’s focus back on Ms. Vita La Coco.

As a woman who claims to be a girl’s girl and is always presenting herself to be someone who is the epitome of a pro-black feminist bad ass, it just makes her alleged activism come off so disingenuous when she’s also laying down with the same man that actively attacks the demographic she’s supposed to be standing in solidarity with. It’s “Black Lives Matter” on the IG posts but your vagina is getting moist for a man who openly stated he doesn’t relate to what goes on in Ferguson because he lives in Soho & Beverly Hills. Ferguson being the exact place where a 17-year-old black boy’s lifeless corpse laid on the hot concrete for FOUR hours after he was murdered by a police officer. He couldn’t 'relate' to the fate of so many black men, women, and children who are murdered or seriously injured from state-sanctioned violence because they’re poor and he is not or so he thought.

But then again, what can I really expect from a woman who identified as being “biracial” until as recent as roughly 6 years ago? What can I really expect from a woman who called Rachel Dolezal a ‘hero’ for cosplaying as a black woman? I’d be lying if I said my expectations for her were high in this regard because sis has always shown us she was lacking in this department. And just for the record, this is not a personal attack on Rihanna at all for the die-hard Navy stans in the back. I admire her latest fashions and bop my head to her music just like the next person but she’s getting the side-eye from me on this one.

Trust and believe me though, she’s not the only woman who I can call out for being a hypocrite. Of course not! This stone can be cast at a few others. So without further ado, why don’t we bring Ms. Kehlani Parrish to the front of the congregation? Prior to Kehlani’s recent declaration of identifying as a lesbian, her last public relationship with a man was with YG. Yes, the same YG who felt it was necessary to say him & Nipsey had ‘pretty light-skinned’ daughters to raise in the middle of his deceased friend’s memorial. By the way, Nipsey’s daughter is not even light (or at least not in my book anyways.) She’s a very deep caramel tone just like her father which makes what he said even more moronic. Yes, the same YG who thought it was clever idea to use slavery as an aesthetic for a music video to a diss track about 6ix9ine. And yes, also the same YG who has derogatory lyrics targeted at bisexual women. Just to end up sweating the red carpets with one. I swear the jokes just continue to write themselves.

This raises the question once more; How high of a pedestal can I really put a multiracial woman who has a song titled ‘N*ggas’ and when received backlash for the song in question, she used the ultimate ‘I’m mixed’ copout while not having a visibly black parent in sight?

It’s also kind of suspicious to me that many were not privy to Kehlani’s secret romance with Victoria Monét (pictured bottom right) until Victoria did an interview with Gay Times revealing she fell in love with a girl but they subsequently broke up because Victoria had a boyfriend and that girl was pregnant in a polyamorous relationship. Fans began to speculate because both Victoria & Kehlani previously candidly spoke about their sexual orientations, Kehlani had just had Adeya and they both were seemingly close. Their short-lived fling would later be confirmed when Victoria released the song ‘Touch Me’ on her last project and Kehlani hopped on the remix. Meanwhile, Kehlani’s relationship with Shaina (pictured bottom left) was very overt and all over her Instagram feed from my recollection. And as you can see, Shaina looks absolutely nothing like Victoria. They look like the complete opposite of eachother in every aspect which is kind of alarming(?) to say the least because why is it that the women she proudly claims as her partners tend to have a very racially ambiguous look such as herself but her ‘sneaky links’ on the other hand are undoubtedly black women? Again, it could just be me jumping conclusions. You know, I’m kinda good for that however something tells me I’m not. Y’all be the judge of the material though.

Last but not least, I’d like to touch on Ms. Raven Tracy very briefly. I was very weary about even including in this segment and if I should just put her in a entirely separate blog post with other women who openly date abusers despite their checkered past (alongside Nicki Minaj & her r*pist murderer of a husband, India Love & Sheck Wes etc.) being this particular blog post was based around the theme of lightskinned/mixed women dating men with extremely problematic views about DSBW. Raven obviously isn’t lightskinned or mixed however I refused to ignore how contradictory her [former] relationship with an alleged (I used this word very loosely and mainly for legality purposes.) serial r*pist while promoting a brand that is all about feminism & body positivity. This also traces back to A$AP Rocky by default being that Ian Connor is his very close friend and he came to Connor’s defense when several women came forward detailing accounts of Connor allegedly s*xually assaulting them. (I wish I could place the actual video of what A$AP Rocky said verbatim but Tumblr only allows one video per blog post. 🙄)

Back in June of this year, Ian & Raven had a back & forth on Twitter after Ian tweeted about Raven “fucking everybody” behind his back. I can only assume that he was alluding to Tori Brixx posting a video of her ex, Rich the Kid & Raven kissing on her story. Disgusted is not even the word to describe my feeling when she admitted she stuck by Ian despite of his many allegations of s*xual abuse because she loved him and her being a empath causes her to want to help everybody. Imagine aiding and abetting a predator and even paying for his bail & legal fees just to turn around and expect sympathy because this same individual cheated on you and exploited you all over Twitter for the public to see. The same man that you would get back with not even a WEEK after the fact & turn off your IG comments because it isn’t our “business” after making it our business...

That being said, I just genuinely want to know: Why do these women completely go against what they stand for in regards to these men? Maybe it was never genuine from jump street and if that’s the case, why jump on the bandwagon of performative activism? Is it because it’s profitable right now? Is it because disrespecting black women is not an immediate death sentence to your careers and more often than not actually helps you advance even further? I guess that’s the billion dollar question that’ll never truly be answered. I just want the world to stop using black women as their stepping stool to get to where they need to go and then discarding of us when we’re no longer beneficial. Support us all the way or don’t support us at all. We deal with enough disrespect as is so we’d appreciate if y’all would stop straddling the fence and partake in your misogynoir out loud if that’s what you choose to do. We have no use for fake allyship and quite frankly, it’s doing more harm for us than good. Please and thank you!

Sincerely,

- 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙳𝙶𝙰𝚁 𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽 𝙷𝙾𝙴. 💋

[zumpietoo]

Okay....Soooo....

Returning to everybody’s crimes/moar unlikable than Jughead:

Literally, for starters, I don’t even get why/how Jughead IS “unlikable”, unless it’s because this jackass legit is A) a bougeois snob or B) because Jug’s an edgelord/intellectual....cause those aren’t qualities I find particularly “unlikable”. Otherwise, Jug’s the guy routinely sacrificing himself, putting others first, etc...in fact, as I do this, when somebody’s done something wrong, but to protect/defend somebody else, it doesn’t count.....when BH were a couple this generally applied to Betty, as well, now only applies to Jughead....everybody else? As I’ve long stated, act like dicks on a routine basis cause they

A) feel like it

B) it has a monetary incentive....

C) they’re that fucking dumb

Oh and everybody’s a hypocrite, so let’s not even get started....

Soooo....

Douchie is a complete snide, elitist, patronizing asshole. Even tho he’s dumb as a fucking box of rocks. Dude is legit a loathsome person. Treats Jughead as if he’s beneath him, is a raging misogynistic fuccboi/cheater, terrible friend and a generally shitty person, all the fucking time. Unspeakably selfish. Painfully violent.

Crimes: Is guilty of depraved indifference murder, manslaughter, actually corrupted/endangered children while trying to “save” them---and they turned out to be easily bought off kids to begin with. Innumerable, excessive assaults, was a fucking mob capo in training, beat up a defenseless cripple (no, him being a pig doesn’t excuse what douchie did), vandalism, actions set off north/southside violence that forced Jughead to be a “gang leader”, blew up a car, was dumb enough to take full credit for the depraved indifference murder, didn’t go to the police (so, again accomplice/accessory), enabled Hymen’s rise to power with Vermin, helped Vermin frame FP, never, EVER has taken responsibility or apologized for ANY of the shitty things/crimes/etc.

Vermin: snide, snotty, elitist, , name dropping, demonstrates, routinely, so little regard for the lives of others she borders on depraved indifference, herself, affected, annoying, so stupid she fails to read contracts, makes literally every person’s problems (including Ethel’s dad’s attempted suicide!!!) about herself, treats all her “friends” as beneath her (possibly I’d like her with Cheryl, because Cherry’s the only person she doesn’t do so with), beyond selfish and a completely awful person.

Crimes: assisted her father in taking over the town, including eviscerating the civil rights of others (and felt no remorse for it), lied about all of this to even her closer friends and was annoyed that they were upset by it, helped torture and nearly murder Chuck----cause “embarrassing”, every “business” she’s run has been at least 50% illegal, was briefly a drug runner, etc for Gladys---which she only admitted so she wouldn’t have to deal with it any more (felt no compassion for Jughead), aided and abetted a child serial killer (Peneloho), twice used very excessive force in self defense, frequently creates situations that cause the deaths of others. failed to report the drugs her dad was making, resulting in testing on others, his continued empowerment, etc.

Cheryl: abusively snide, snotty bitch. Just loathsome. There isn’t enough room here. Also selfish, entitled and ridiculously, ever grossly, hypersexualized, routinely seeks to hurt others (who have done nothing to her) based on perceived “slights”

Crimes: DGAF when her mother and others murder people, in fact helps her. Refused (until extorted) to keep Jughead from becoming an orphan, sending an innocent man to life in prison, etc---despite that man having actually more helped her brother, already been victimized by her father, herself having assaulted Jughead and Jughead still helping saved her life, mere days before. Is violent, runs innumerable illegal businesses, chose to rob others for thrills, DGAF when it meant she imperiled many others, has frequently had the wherewithall, despite being a sexual assault victim, herself, sexually harassed, stalked and assaulted another woman---then framed a black man for it, falsely imprisoned and terrorized her classmates, gaslit her own GF. Joined a cult/willing to fuck over Betty in it

Tinkle: an utterly loathsome slut and home wrecker. Also violent and entitled. Cult as above. And, entertainingly, only does crimes when led by others, cause that fucking stupid and useless. Obnoxious and rude. Wildly manipulative cause she “feels like it”

Gholars: Snotty, elitist, snide, sleazy bitches. Cult as above, including dragging Betty to be lobotomized, both later happy to continue to fuck Betty over cuz master/wanted the D. Molars is a cold blooded murderer who needed Jughead to clean up his fuck up. And yet hates Jughead for goofy nicknames.

Betty: fatuous, now a truly vile person, always sexually impulsive, violent. cheater, bitch

Crimes: (again, excluding shit she did while seeking to help others) but nearly lynched a black man, stole Grody Grundy’s gun (after breaking into her car), cuz jelly about Douchie, routinely places Jughead in danger cuz “has a hunch”, wvas briefly a cam girl/prostitute cause “lonely”? Made Jughead’s worst nightmare a reality WHILE HE HAD PTSD, is now a prostitute again, kidnapped, tortured, left for ded and nearly murdered in cold blood a completely innocent man, horrible to orphaned child relatives, set events in motion leading to her “BF/trick” being stabbed and used dedly force while shooting her brother and same children scarred for life, shows no remorse, currently, for any of it

Sooo.....what was that again about JUGHEAD “being a gang leader/a little bit unlikable”????

[argonas]

Misguided Justice - Pt. I

[[ Co-written with @kidcatgemini​ / @sinafay-the-defiant​ ]]

Evening had descended by the time Argonas set hoof on the small Arathi farmstead. Quaint and simple, the Vindicator could barely believe this is where his wayward student Sinafay had settled down. No measure of justice was served from such a simple life. But then, he knew she’d abandoned such duties in favor of her abhorrent and deviant lifestyle. His fists clenched as he paced up the hill from the fields proper, towards the small cottage overlooking the land. Smoke billowing from the chimney served as a sure sign someone was home. Sinafay… Grakkar… that abomination they called a child… he expected to find all three inside. Disgusting and unnatural as it was, that wasn’t even why Argonas was here. No, Sinafay’s transgressions far exceeded that, now.

Despite Raetos’ unwillingness to do what was necessary, and his efforts to convince the Vindicator of such, Argonas knew otherwise. Anyone who abided such evils as Avehi raising the dead were just as culpable as she was! By harboring and abetting the Death Knight, Sinafay had made her choice. And the Light demanded its justice. It almost hurt to consider; he really had taken pride in training young Sinafay in the ways of the Light, helping to nurture and cultivate her talents into a beacon of strength for their people. Such a waste…

His heavy hand banged against the wooden door - so fragile, he worried it might break if he hit it too hard. Still, the firm knocks echoed through the farmstead, as the Vindicator made his presence known.

“Sinafay!” he called out. “Sinafay the Defiant!”

It didn’t take very long for the door to open, revealing a very angry looking Draenei, brows knit into a scowl. She’d done a great job at losing the baby weight, already a good way back to her Vindicator fitness level. She wore a lovely, yet simple robe, ideal for a busy mother, yet accentuated her natural curves and showed off her Light bound tattoos. 

“Argonas,” she scolded, “Do you mind maybe NOT waking the baby I just put to sleep?!”

She pushed forward to try and shove the Vindicator back, but Argonas was unmovable as always, and in his full armor of course! With a frustrated huff, she moved around him, shutting the door behind her as she began to walk down the hill, tail twitching. Best to do the yelling away from Neelah. She couldn’t imagine what her former mentor was doing here at this time of night.

“What the FUCK are you doing here?!” She growled.

Perhaps it was motherhood, the hormones raging through her. Or perhaps coupling with a filthy Orc for too long had boosted her aggression. Maybe, partly, she was upset to see him again after how he left things with her. There were many likely factors, but no matter what or why, Sinafay was being terribly bitchy. It wasn't the attractive sour attitude he cherished in his departed mate, either; she was just being erratic and grumpy. Terribly unappealing!

He followed her a ways down the hill, stern expression his only real response to her demeanor. He looked her over, a mixture of sorrow and regret overcoming him. Oh how far she'd fallen… even glistening with the Light from her Lightforging did little to make her seem redeemable after such a terrible track her life had followed. It pained him to see his former pupil like this. Such shame he felt, clearly having failed to teach her not to parlay with savage orcs, or aide depraved Death Knights. She was his greatest failure.

"... I am told you sheltered and aided Avehi. Is this true?" Argonas asked, bluntly.

Sinafay raised a brow, turning to look at him as the question was asked. She relaxed a bit, having shaken off the anger now that they were a fair distance away from the house.

“She was here a few months ago; came across the farm by happenstance. Hadn’t seen each other for a while, so we caught up. Went on her way after that.”

Sinafay crosses her arms over her chest. Why was Argonas looking for Avehi? She thought back on her conversation with the Death Knight, frowning. She finally took a moment to look the Vindicator over; those dark circles under his eyes… and something looked off in that luminous gaze of his. Something she’d missed in her earlier frustration.

“If that’s what you mean by ‘sheltered and aided’, then yeah, I guess I did. Why?”

“She has dragged you into her terrible misdeeds.” Argonas elaborated, albeit vaguely. “Avehi has been raising the dead for nefarious purposes. If you are a friend to her, she will likely come here to seek shelter again. To hide from the Light’s justice.”

His eyes narrowed, as he reached back to draw his crystalline blade.

“This, I cannot allow.”

Sinafay didn’t wait a moment longer to see where the conversation was leading. She’d seen this exact situation play out too many times, on Draenor, to those suspected of aiding the Mag’har under Yrel’s reign.

She wasn’t about to allow him to use that blade. While she’d taken on a more domestic role over the past months, she’d kept her senses sharp. Having an Orc mate who enjoyed a good spar helped quite a bit.

Her eyes flared, hands slamming into the large Vindicator’s chest with a powerful blast of Holy Light to push him back before taking on a defensive position.

“I suppose I was right to not have trusted you after all.”

It hurt to have her suspicions realized. To know that her mentor was as blinded as the people she’d left behind on her world. She felt justified, in a way, the guilt of hiding her relationship with Grakkar from him washing away.

“Leave us be, Argonas,” she warned, baring her teeth, “This is your only warning.”

The Vindicator’s hooves scraped along the ground, slowing him from skidding too far back. He grunted, frowning deeper at Sinafay. He expected resistance, of course. He’d trained her well enough not to take a death threat lying down!

“Do you think I want to do this? I thought I had taught you better! But you have fallen so far from the path I laid out for you!” he growled, plated fist tightening around the hilt of his blade. “You failed! You abandoned your post! You betrayed our kin on Draenor, breaking your vow to protect them! And for an Orc!?”

“Hmph. Consider it my highest honor.” Sinafay shot back, defiantly.

Argonas grunted. He rushed in, hoofsteps hastened by the Light itself in a furious charge. He swung his sword in a wide arc towards Sinafay. Sinafay shot forward as he charged. She didn’t have a weapon or armor, but knew agility wasn’t Argonas’ strong suit, and planned to use that to her advantage. She rolled as he swung, just passed his right leg to end up behind him, her tail wrapped around his ankle, tugging it back with her momentum as she got to her hooves. 

She didn’t turn back to look if he’d fallen forward or not as she kept running; hoping she’d bought herself a bit of time as she headed towards Grakkar’s workshop. She knew there would be a weapon or something there she could use to defend herself with. The Lightbound could hear nothing but her rapid heartbeat as adrenaline rushed through her system, making it impossible to know if he was right behind her or not.

Suddenly, a bolt of Light struck her shoulder, knocking her off balance just as she reached the workshop. She stumbled and fell into the door, crashing through it! The heavy hoofbeats of Argonas closed in, making up what distance the tripping attack bought had cost him.

“And now, you abide by such abhorrence as Avehi raising the dead! Our own people, enthralled by her necrotic powers!” he continued to charge Sinafay, shouting aggressively. “I know not what set you on such a depraved path after we parted, Sina. But it has led to this final judgment! The Light will not tolerate your abusing its blessing to supplement death and pain to its chosen people!”

He brought his blade up for an overhead swing, cutting straight down vertically!

Sinafay barely had time to cocoon herself within a barrier of Light. Argonas’ sword crashed into it, causing sparks to fly and crackle in a near blinding light show as the holy forces fought against each other. The Lightbound woman grit her teeth as the barrier cracked under the pressure of the Vindicator’s strength. She was out of practice, and her former mentor’s conviction was too strong. She knew she was only delaying the inevitable, but she would fight to the bitter end.

And that end grew closer as the barrier shattered. She tried to roll to the side but the blade found purchase in her side, forcing a cry out of her as blue blood oozed out of the wound. She reached out, hands grabbing the Vindicator’s wrists as her hooves kicked out at his face in a final act of defiance.

Argonas stumbled back, but not far. Swift and firm as the kick was, there was an insurmountable difference in stature between the two Vindicators. His face immediately began to swell up at the impact point of Sinafay’s hoof, but that only seemed to infuriate him more. The grinding of his plate gauntlet along the hilt of his crystalline blade rang out sharply as he shifted his grip. He took the sword in his hands, and lined up the piercing point with his former pupil’s chest.

“Through me, the Light’s justice will be served! The mistakes I made in judging the true measures of your character will at long last be corrected!”

He raised his blade, eyes narrowing as he started to bring it down to finish his grim task-- when suddenly a pair of arms wrapped tensely around his waist! From behind him, Grakkar took hold of the Vindicator and heaved him upward and over himself with a mighty roar! The Draenei was caught off-guard, and thrown over onto his back as Grakkar arched and kicked back and away from Sinafay. Argonas came crashing down on his shoulders and the back of his head, driving his chin into his chest plate as the rest of his heavy plated body rolled over the top of him! He was stunned! The wind knocked from him entirely as Grakkar threw him back!

“Get away from my mate, you honorless piece of clefthoof shit!” the Warsong shouted, snarling at Argonas.

He gave little time for the abettor to recover, rushing in to keep up the pressure. As Argonas rolled over and brought himself up to his hands and knees, Grakkar ran up and took hold of his head. Lining it up, he carried his momentum and slammed his knee into the Draenei’s crest! 

*CRACK* 

Argonas rolled over from both the pain, and the force of the impact to his face! But the assault didn’t end there. Grakkar trudged up alongside the writhing and bewildered Draenei. He knelt down scooping up a small handful of dirt to toss into the Vindicator’s face! Then, he just started punching! Once, again, three times! He bloodied his fist against the Draenei’s plated crest, pounding his face over and over with unyielding fury! 

Argonas did what he could to protect himself, but he couldn’t see his assaulter, much less block the barrage of punches! He’d dropped his sword, and couldn’t afford to reach out and feel for it nearby. That would only give the Orc more openings! Instead, he curled in, doing his best to cover his face with one arm as he swatted at Grakkar blindly with the other in hopes of deflecting or softening the next blow coming his way. One wild swipe caught hold of something - the Orc’s forearm. Success! With all his might, he ripped the Orc’s arm towards him, counter attacking with a punch of his own. He felt his plated fist connect, knocking the Orc back and away from him. Only for a moment… but the moment was all he needed.

Bringing his hooves back beneath him, Argonas stood up and quickly brushed the dirt and blood from his face. His luminous eyes set onto Grakkar, who also recuperated from their exchange of blows. For a moment, the two stared one another down.

“The Light… judges you too, Orc filth!” Argonas grunted.

“Fuck your Light!” Grakkar shot back, snarling.

With a furious shout, the Orc rushed at Argonas yet again. The Draenei took up a defensive stance, readying himself as Grakkar drew near. He knew he couldn’t match the Orc’s agility; their fight in Kun-Lai had taught him that, well enough. Instead he dug in his hooves, tail swaying limber behind him to keep his balance. As the Orc took his swing, Argonas brought his forearms up to block the incoming blow. Then the next. Teeth grit as he held firm his position, Argonas bided the Orc’s assault like a statue! He was ready for him, this time. Ready and waiting for his opening. His hands and arms felt raw, jarred and pulsing from the plate gauntlets reverberating each repeated strike. But he held his ground.

Grakkar raged on, throwing punch after punch in the hopes of landing one or two good blows, enough to throw his opponent off of the defensive. But the Vindicator was stoic! Unyielding! The old Orc already felt fatigue setting in. How long had it been since he had a good fight like this? Since settling down with Sinafay, and their young daughter Neelah, he hadn’t been in too many scrapes. His rustiness was taxing him now, exacting the toll of his inactivity. His blows began to slow, punches falling slower and softer against the same blood-smeared plate gloves the Draenei used to defend himself. His knuckles were pulp, each screaming a searing pain from crashing into the inexorable metal again and again. He rotated in a kick to mix it up, hoping to knock the Draenei over, but he might as well have kicked a boulder. One more punch. Another. Until finally the futility of it drained Grakkar entirely. He staggered back, growling.

And that was Argonas’ opening.

The blast of Light illuminated the farmstead, bright as high noon for only a split second. Argonas’ retributive burst was more than enough to knock the weary Orc over. The Vindicator charged, hoofbeats hastened by the Light’s gift to surge the mass of muscle and steel towards Grakkar. He’d barely managed to keep his balance, only for Argonas to slam into him like a rampaging elekk. The Orc felt his body tossed back, and yet he didn’t go far. Argonas gripped him tightly to keep him from sailing too far away from the impact, instead simply slamming him into the ground before him. The Orc’s pained howl was a symphony to the Vindicator. Retribution for so much pain that not only this Orc caused him personally, but all Orcs caused his people! Quickly, he followed up by stomping his hoof into the vile creature’s chest! Still surging with the Light, his plated hoof shoe seared into Grakkar’s flesh, causing him to writhe and moan in pain!

“You have caused enough trouble!” Argonas declared, pressing his hoof down harder. “And now, you will cause no more!”

Grakkar struggled, gripping the Draenei’s leg as he gave all his might to try and push back, but not only did the Draenei significantly outmatch his strength, his plated form weighed a ton! It took all the Orc’s might just to keep the hoof at bay! Even then, he felt his ribs bending and cracking, the hoof melting his skin. It became hard to breath, his cries of agony turning to harsh and hoarse gasps as Argonas pressed harder. He’d been in enough fights to know when he’d lost. And this… this was it. This was the end. 

His eyes widened at the realization, his expression of anger and rage replaced by one of fear. Despair. He had failed. He couldn’t protect his mate. His daughter. After everything he’d done, all the effort and sacrifice he’d made to protect Sinafay, to free her from bondage on Draenor… only for her to die here at the hands of another Light-crazed zealot. He strained a little harder, but nothing he could do would be enough to overpower Argonas. But he couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t! He turned his head, looking over towards the workshop where Sinafay was. He couldn’t see her… and that hurt all the more, unable to lay eyes on his mate one final time. His strength began to wane.

“I’m… sorry…” Grakkar grunted, as his grip finally slipped.

*CRUNCH*

~*~

TO BE CONTINUED...

[cheryls-blossomed]

I wouldn't even mind that fanboys dislike Cecile bcs frankly I find her annoying too (only in S5 and 6), but when they insist equally annoying characters like Sue and Caitlin are amazing feminist icons while maligning Iris as bitchy and abusive, the racism becomes pathetically obvious. How can someone say Frost/Cait is a sweet understanding character and then say Iris is a bitch?! They literally give Iris' core character traits to these women bcs they refuse to see them in Iris

I’m not a fan of Cecile at all and far be it for me to advocate for her, especially after 6x19, but obviously we all know that the reasons fanboys dislike her are completely invalid. There are valid reasons to dislike her, but fanboys don’t dislike her for those reasons.

And yes, I completely agree. Anyone who calls Iris abusive or bitchy or toxic is racist, because these are terms frequently used to malign black women for just existing, especially when black women exist in a space which racists consider can only belong to white women. Sue conned Ralph from the moment that she met him (suddenly everybody loves the enemies to lovers trope, and Sue is not called toxic for the way she behaved towards Ralph). Because she falls within the typical Black Widow trope, drops some cute one-liners, and most importantly is white, I’m sure fanboys are fond of her. Frost straight up attempted murder to several members of Team Flash, including Iris (and not only did Iris forgive her without receiving any apologies, Iris advocated for her heroism in 4x05... you can’t make this up) and never received a redemption arc (instead she was turned into a hero overnight). Her edgy snarkiness is not appealing at all, especially when she’s being obnoxious to characters of color, such as Jefferson and Kamilla. As for Caitlin, well, even if we are to accept that she and Frost are two different people, she selfishly put herself before Iris and Cynthia’s very lives and safety, and she aided and abetted in a meta-human trafficking ring, because apparently she still considered her problems to be far more important than the literal livelihoods of so many human beings. And that’s not even half of it where Caitlin/Frost are concerned.

Meanwhile, Iris is constantly selfless, constantly forgiving, and constantly putting everybody’s feelings before her own. She is put through immense trauma, time and again, and she still puts everybody before herself. Iris is so selfless to the point that she is self-sacrificing. And yet, she is the one referred to as toxic, while white women like Caitlin and Sue are considered amazing heroines. It’s utter racist vitriol. 

[pikapeppa]

Cullavellan and FenHawke pirate AU: Fantasy

Chapter 2 of Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me is up on AO3, for the lovely and talented mastermind @schoute, who created this AMAZING WANTED POSTER TO GO WITH THE CHAPTER.

In which Cullen has some moral quandaries and runs into the polite and well-mannered Lady Rynne Hawke. [innocent smile]

Read on AO3 instead (~8100 words).

*******************

CULLEN

“Come in,” a stern female voice barked.

Cullen straightened and smoothed one hand over his cravat, then pushed open the polished wooden door.

Admiral Meredith Stannard was standing by the window with folded arms. She turned to face him at the opening of the door.

“Commander,” she said with a sharp nod. She gestured to one of the chairs in front of the pristinely polished desk, then launched into business without any preamble. “I have heard there is an increase in pirate-related crimes in Lowtown. What will you be doing about this?”

Cullen deftly adjusted the sword at his waist as he sat in the chair. “There has been a modest increase in minor crimes,” he admitted. “But the lieutenants and I–”

Meredith placed her gloved palms on the surface of the desk. “I’ve been informed that a pirate escaped from jail on these very premises,” she said. “During your watch. That is hardly an incident that I would call ‘modest’.”

Her stern tone and expression were as neutral as always, but her clear blue eyes were piercing. Cullen forced himself not to betray the sudden lurch of nerves in his belly at the mention of Piper’s escape.

He bowed his head briefly. “It was my responsibility, Admiral,” he said quietly. “It will not happen again.” Never mind that this wasn’t the first time Piper had evaded long-term imprisonment in Kirkwall. In fairness, this was only the second time she had escaped without Cullen’s knowledge; the other times she’d been imprisoned, she or Varric had either exploited the foibles of Kirkwall law to talk her out of being kept for longer than three days, or the men she’d injured had suddenly and mysteriously retracted their accusations of assault, resulting in her being released from jail without further penalty.

It wouldn’t do to point this out to Meredith, however. Cullen had failed in his duties enough already by inadvertently allowing Piper’s escape two weeks ago.

Meredith frowned. “It certainly won’t,” she said. “I am henceforth commanding more stringent punishment for any acts of crime committed by pirates in this city.”

Cullen raised his eyebrows slightly. “More stringent punishment?” he said. “Entailing what, precisely?”

“The noose,” she said succinctly.

A jolt of shock rocketed through his chest. He forced his face not to register it. “The noose? For… for what crimes?”

“All crimes committed by pirates,” Meredith said. “They are the bane of Kirkwall. Their unlawful activities place the rest of our law-abiding citizens at risk.” She began to pace slowly behind the desk. “The lenient approach has not worked. These criminals have not earned the benefit of the doubt that their presence in Darktown and Lowtown implies. If you or your men should capture any pirates committing illegal acts in Kirkwall, you will immediately arrest them and sentence them to death. Is this understood?”

Cullen hesitated, and Meredith’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Is there a problem, Commander?”

He nervously licked his lips. Meredith’s orders smacked of wrongness, but Cullen couldn’t entirely verbalize why. After all, he would have been of the same mind as her a mere year ago. But now, the thought of hanging a pirate for a minor crime – of hanging someone like Piper for defending herself from human attackers who were twice her size…

A chill ran down his spine. But he could hardly state his trepidation to Meredith – not when the pirate he wanted to defend was the very same one who had slipped out of prison right beneath his nose.

Which then begged the question as to why Cullen wanted to defend the troublesome little elf in the first place.

Confused and worried, he did the only thing he could do: he bowed his head respectfully to his commanding officer. “No, Admiral. It is not a problem.”

She studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. “Good. There is one other matter. This pirate who escaped: this Mad Piper, as she is known.” Meredith picked up a tidy sheaf of parchment from the desk. “She has been a problem in Kirkwall for an entire year now, from what I understand.”

Maker’s breath, Cullen thought. He swallowed hard, then prayed that Meredith hadn’t noticed his nerves. “Yes,” he said carefully. “She often frequents the Lowtown market.”

Meredith nodded, then pulled out a piece of parchment from the stack in her hands and gave it to Cullen.

He took the parchment, and his heart thumped anxiously. It was a WANTED poster featuring Captain Mad Piper herself, complete with a (rather fetching) sketch of the elven captain, along with a list of all her crimes: theft, obstructing merchant activity, multiple counts of assault on citizens, multiple counts of assaults on naval officers, public indecency, disturbing the peace, inciting riots, and impersonating the Divine.

Impersonating the Divine…? he thought incredulously. Then Meredith spoke again, interrupting his racing thoughts. “The Kirkwall printers are in the process of making these posters en masse. They will be ready in two days’ time.” She took the poster back from Cullen. “You will arrest this criminal the next time she makes an appearance in Kirkwall, whether she commits a crime or not,” Meredith said. “An example will be made of her. Any pirates wishing to take advantage of this fair city will know the kind of justice that awaits them here.”

Cullen’s pulse was thumping in his ears. The list of Piper’s crimes flickered through his mind – a multitude of crimes, but none of them truly horrific. She wasn’t like the pirates who had attacked his ship five years ago and murdered all of his men without a second thought. Piper was trouble, but she wasn’t a monster. She was a pirate, but she didn’t deserve the noose.

She didn’t deserve this.

He cleared his throat. “Admiral, if I may–”

Meredith interrupted him. “We are also making WANTED posters for that other elf on her crew,” she said. “The dangerous-looking one. You will bring him in as well.”

Cullen’s eyebrows rose in undisguised surprise. “You mean Fe–?” He broke off and bit his lip before he blurted out the name of Piper’s master-at-arms. It would be career suicide to admit that he had enough knowledge of Piper’s life to know the names of her closest crew.

He tried again. “That crew member of hers is not known for any illegal activity,” he reasoned. “There have been no reports of his involvement in any violent or criminal activities.”

Meredith gave him a hard look. “He is the known associate of a notorious pirate. That is damning enough.”

Cullen inhaled slowly to try and calm his racing heart. Meredith’s attitude was alarming, and it had been getting more worrying as the year had worn on. The Admiral had always been a strict but fair leader, and this was partly why Cullen had been pleased to return to Kirkwall on her orders. Cullen and Meredith had seen eye-to-eye about the dangers of piracy for many years, and Cullen had never had reason to question her orders before. But over the past year or so, he’d started to become more uncertain about the justice of Meredith’s decisions.

For the first few months, Cullen hadn’t been sure whether his uncertainty about Meredith was related to his own regrettable softening toward pirates, or whether Meredith’s orders were truly questionable. But the conversation they were having now made it clear that the problem was not just Cullen’s leniency.

Fenris had committed no known crimes in Kirkwall, but Meredith was ordering his punishment. This was a clear injustice, and Cullen couldn’t in good conscience allow it to pass, no matter the consequences that it might bring to him.

He sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Admiral,” he said. “I… I regret that cannot follow those orders.”

Meredith recoiled slightly. “I beg your pardon?”

“I cannot arrest Mad Piper’s master-at-arms,” he said. “He has no criminal record here. Any crimes he may have done are outside of our jurisdiction. It would be a… an abuse on my part as a commander of the navy to arrest him.”

Meredith glared at him for a long moment, and Cullen held his breath as he waited for her verdict. Finally she sighed and waved an impatient hand.

“You are correct,” she said, to Cullen’s great relief. But his relief was short-lived as she continued to speak. “We will have to think something else. I will speak to the Viscount about drafting a new anti-fraternization law.”

Cullen frowned slightly. “Anti-fraternization law?”

She nodded. “Any known associates of a pirate must be punished for aiding and abetting their crimes,” she announced. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I will think on the phrasing. You will assist me with this.”

Cullen stared at her with growing alarm. “I…”

She frowned at him, and he cleared his throat and nodded decisively, even though he felt anything but. “Yes, of course,” he said.

She nodded in response, then waved a hand for him to rise. Cullen stood up, and Meredith gave him her usual stern look. “Remind your men to keep an eye out for this Mad Piper. The WANTED posters will go up in three days, and then the whole city will have an eye out for her. But if she should appear before then, she must not go free.”

Cullen bowed. “Admiral,” he murmured, then left her office.

He headed straight for the main exit of the navy headquarters. His gut was churning with anxiety, and he was hopeful that a casual patrol through Hightown’s streets would help to calm his nerves.

He stepped out into the blazing afternoon sun and made his way along the standard patrol route that led to Lowtown, but his mind was preoccupied with the meeting he’d just had. The situation with Meredith made him feel physically ill. Meredith had never had any fondness for pirates, but Cullen couldn’t understand her particular vendetta against Piper. Was it purely because Piper had escaped from jail, and Meredith was trying to salvage the navy’s reputation? Or might there be some other reason for her focus on the wily little elven captain? Piper was hardly the sort of nefarious pirate that Meredith and Cullen so abhorred, after all. She was actually very well-liked among many of the (admittedly less savoury) residents in Lowtown, and stories of some of her more ‘amusing’ feats in Lowtown had even trickled into the gossip circuit in Hightown. Cullen genuinely wasn’t sure that sentencing Piper to the noose would convey the message that Meredith was hoping for.

A fleeting image of Piper’s slender neck encircled by a thick noose flashed through his mind. He shivered instinctively at the thought, then ran a hand through his hair. For all that he’d scolded himself about not fraternizing with pirates, it seemed that he had somehow struck up an unacceptably affable rapport with Piper. He would be lying if he said his feelings toward Piper were completely impartial… and this was a serious problem.

Cullen now had direct orders from the Admiral that conflicted with his own sense of what was right. But could he trust his sense of justice when his own judgment was biased?

I am not entirely biased, he thought. The point he’d made about Fenris was valid. It was wrong to punish a person for merely affiliating with a pirate if that person had committed no crimes – at least none that could be proven. If affiliation was all it took, then Meredith should be targeting Varric just as harshly as Fenris and Piper.

But Varric was still technically a citizen of Kirkwall. Perhaps this was the difference. Varric still managed multiple businesses in Kirkwall, and he and Piper had never actually admitted to Varric being an official member of Piper’s crew. If Meredith’s anti-fraternization law went through, Varric could technically claim that he had been abducted by Piper and thereby get out of trouble. Perhaps Cullen ought to point that out to them if the worst should come to pass.

Then he stopped and scratched back of his neck. Why was he trying to think of ways to help Piper and her crew? He was a blasted naval commander. He should be reinforcing the law, not thinking ways to help a silver-haired little troublemaker escape it.

He sighed heavily, then shunted the problem aside for now. He would calm his mind with the familiarity of this patrol, and when his jangling nerves were soothed, he would return to the problem of Piper with a clearer head.

The routine of his patrol was as calming as Cullen had hoped. Aside from a noble youth drinking rum in public and a few children playing in the fountain, Cullen ran into minimal trouble. But just as Cullen was about to start the final loop of his patrol back to the headquarters, he spotted an unusual sight: a noble lady, alone – and one whom Cullen had never seen alone before.

He approached her and bowed politely. “Good afternoon, Lady Rynne,”

She beamed at him. “Oh hello, Commander! What a lovely surprise.” She idly waved the lacy mint-green fan in her delicately gloved hand. “What are you doing on patrol? I was under the impression that this was more of a lieutenant’s job.”

She wasn’t wrong. But he couldn't very well tell her his real reasons for being on patrol. “It is,” he said. “But I took it on myself to follow this route today. See if there are any… deviations that… Er, if any changes to the route are required to keep our citizens safe,” he said clumsily.

“Ah, of course,” Lady Rynne said. “A noble undertaking for a noble commander.”

Her tone was pleasant and unsuspecting, but Cullen awkwardly cleared his throat nonetheless. “I’m surprised to see you on your own,” he remarked. Leandra Hawke doted on her eldest child, and Lady Rynne was always accompanied by at least one handmaiden, as well as a personal bodyguard from the Hawke estate or her burly younger brother Carver, when he wasn’t carrying out his lieutenant duties himself. Seeing the young lady out on the town by herself was very strange indeed.

Lady Rynne made a tiny moue of dismay. “My handmaidens fell ill on some poorly-prepared fish, I’m afraid. And dear Carver stepped into the weapons shop – no place for a lady, you’ll agree. He’ll be back momentarily.”

Cullen frowned slightly. “Would you care for my company until his return?”

She delicately fanned herself. “Oh no, Commander, please! Don’t concern yourself with me. I’m sure I will be fine until Carver’s return. I’ll sit in this shade and enjoy the breeze. It’s such a lovely day, don’t you think?” She took a seat on a nearby carved stone bench beneath a tree and arranged her petticoats around her lap, then smiled up at him.

Cullen studied her curiously for a moment. The Belle of Kirkwall, they called her, and it wasn’t difficult to see why; Rynne Hawke was one of the most beautiful women in Kirkwall, with her delicate porcelain skin and her long shiny chestnut hair. She was sociable and charming and exceedingly well-mannered: by all rights, a very proper young lady. But there was something about her smile that always made Cullen feel like she was on the verge of making a joke that never quite left her lips.

He discarded the strange impression. He was probably just imagining things. He bowed slightly once more. “Well, if you’re certain you’re all right on your own, I should return to my desk to file my, er, patrol notes.”

Lady Rynne nodded and smiled. “Of course. I appreciate your concern, Commander. Have a lovely afternoon.”

“You as well,” he said, and he left her on the bench as he made his way back toward the navy headquarters. As he neared the carved pillars of the tall and decorous government building, his nerves began to vibrate once more, and he forced himself to breathe calmly as he made his way up the steps.

One thing at a time, he thought to himself. First he would try to determine if there were any other reasons that Meredith might be targeting Piper so distinctively. If he pored carefully through Piper’s criminal record, he might be able to find a way to alleviate the Admiral’s concerns and convince her to be slightly less strict in her sentencing.

Perhaps in the course of his investigations, he would also figure out why it mattered so much to him that the infuriating, flirtatious Captain Mad Piper not be sentenced to death.

RYNNE

Rynne fanned herself lazily and watched from the corner of her eye until Cullen’s navy-coated back disappeared around the corner.

Thank fuck, she thought. She flicked her lacy fan shut, then rose to her feet and began to walk away in the opposite direction that Cullen had gone.

She glanced toward the parasol and kerchief shoppe, then averted her face and sped up slightly to pass it by; Carver was in the shoppe getting her parasol repaired just as she’d cajoled him to do. He would be angry when he discovered she’d snuck away from him again, but Rynne didn’t care. If she had to spend one more minute today being fussed and clucked over like a useless child, she was going to start tearing out her perfectly pinned hair.

Her lovely handmaidens were at home, playing sick just as Rynne had paid them to do. Free now for the first time in over a month, Rynne was going to take full advantage and do the one thing she’d always wanted to do: she was finally going to venture into the Lowtown market.

She couldn’t explain why she wanted so badly to go to Lowtown. By all rights, it was a place she should want to avoid; it was dirty and noisy and full of people of questionable cleanliness and manners, and if Carver and her mother were to be believed, it was full of criminals who would sooner tarnish her honour than tell her ‘good day’.

But Rynne couldn't believe that that’s all there was to the market. It might be noisy and smelly and packed, but it was also vibrant and colourful and full of life. Flowers burst unfettered across the roofs and walls, and there were strange and delicious smells emanating from the many chaotic cooking fires – smells that were savoury and sweet and spicy, and so much more interesting than the cooking smells she was used to at home. The sounds of music often floated out of the market, merry sounds of instruments that Rynne had never heard at the formal dances and dinners in Hightown. And the people – Maker’s balls, the people...  

There were all kinds of people in Lowtown. Humans, of course, but also dwarves and elves and the occasional qunari, and all of them wearing strange and colourful clothes and adorned with tattoos and jewelry the likes of which Rynne would never see in Hightown. On the cherished occasions when Rynne ran into Varric at the book shoppe, he’d told her about the funny conversations he’d had or the odd people he’d seen in Lowtown, and it only enhanced her wishes to see it for herself.

Where Hightown was a perfect pastel-coloured canvas of humans with perfect pristine smiles, Lowtown was completely imperfect, like a mad and unstructured jumble of people and things and noises from everywhere in the world – everywhere that Rynne had never been, and probably never would go.

Rynne was stuck in Hightown society. She was the eldest and only daughter of a controversial family: the Amells had a good reputation among the noble families but the middle-class Hawkes did not, and Leandra’s bold choice to marry below her station was still having its social consequences over two decades later. Rynne’s mother was desperate to marry her off to some high-class pompous twat to wipe away the so-called shame of having married the infamously academic Malcolm Hawke – an irony that made Rynne laugh on the good days, and made her want to scream on the bad ones.

She sighed internally as she gracefully strolled through the streets of Hightown. At times like this, Rynne really missed having Bethany around. Bethany was the sweet and gentle one, and on the days when Rynne was feeling really hard done-by, Bethany had usually been able to remind her why an arranged marriage would benefit the family – usually by pointing out their other friends who seemed to be happily married to men they hadn’t met until their wedding days. But the scarlet fever pandemic three years ago had taken Bethany away, and Rynne no longer had a confidante when the expectations of her station became too heavy to bear.

And the expectations were heavy indeed. Rynne was twenty-five now – practically an old maid – and her mother was becoming more controlling than ever, forcing her to meet with the parents of eligible young men at least twice a week and to go on heavily escorted dates with those young men just as frequently. Being stared at by bodyguards and handmaidens and family members was hardly conducive to getting to know a possible suitor – not that Rynne wanted to anyway. Every bachelor her mother forced her to meet was either too young, far too old, too bland and boring, or far too prone to eyeing her in the overly-attentive kind of way that made Rynne’s skin crawl with misgivings.

In short, Rynne felt like some sort of prize cow who was being shown around for the value of the milk she could provide. In contrast, her fantasies about Lowtown were like an escape. She saw the crowded market as the entryway into a land of adventure and strangeness and freedom that she could never have. And she was so desperate for even a tiny taste of the freedom that Lowtown offered that she was willing to risk the punishment that Leandra would inevitably bestow for her misbehaviour.

She slid her fingers into her elaborately curled hair and rubbed absently at her scalp. Then the first strains of noise and foreign music floated to her ears.

She smiled, then lifted her skirts slightly and walked more quickly still. She was nearly running now – a very improper thing for a young lady to do – but Rynne didn’t give a shit: she was almost there, almost at the broad stone steps that led down into Lowtown’s lively and fragrant depths. She had limited time now before Carver would realize that she’d gone missing, and she had to make the most of the time she had.

Within a minute, she was at the top of the steps. She stared gleefully at the market, with its colourful tarps and dancing ladies and all the fucking people. Without another second’s hesitation, she lifted her skirts and hurried down the steps. Then, for the first time in her twenty-five years of life, Rynne set foot in Lowtown.

It was so much louder here, and the smells were much stronger and laced with the pungent scent of unwashed bodies. Wide-eyed with wonder, Rynne began to slip through the crowd as unobtrusively as she could despite her vast stupid skirts. People were swearing and shouting and singing, and as she made her way toward the nearest merchant’s stand, she was rudely jostled in the sort of way that would never happen up in Hightown.

It was wonderful. Cacophonous and chaotic and absolutely fucking wonderful. When she finally reached the dwarven jewelry merchant’s stand, she couldn’t stop herself from beaming at him. “These are beautiful,” she called out over the noise.

“Thanks, lady,” he shouted back. He looked stunned for some reason, but Rynne didn’t mind; she was too preoccupied by the glittering jewelry on display. It looked ‘cheap’, as her mother would say: glass crystals set in plain copper and bronze, with no fine gems or metals to be found. But the artistry in the curling metal and the arrangements of the cut glass gems were like nothing Rynne had ever seen.

She pointed at one piece and looked up at the merchant. “How much for this?”

“Ten silver,” he replied.

Ten silver? Rynne thought. That seemed quite expensive indeed. She could purchase a moderately fine silk parasol for that price.

She tilted her head. “What is it made of, if you don’t mind my asking?”

The merchant tilted his chin up slightly and folded his arms. “Why’re you asking?”

Rynne widened her eyes and blinked. “Why, because the artistry is astounding, of course. I’m curious about your methods.” Flattery always worked in the shoppes at home; perhaps it would work here as well.

Luckily for Rynne, her hunch was correct: the merchant relaxed at her words. “Oh. Well.” He scratched his ear. “Five silver, then. Since you asked so nice.”

Rynne smiled and pulled a tiny coin purse out of the pocket of her skirts. “Wonderful! If you don’t mind wrapping it for me…” She looked up to find the merchant’s wary gaze focused just behind her head.

She tilted her head in confusion. Then a large and callused hand took hold of her upper arm. “You look lost, missus,” a deep guttural voice grunted.

Rynne turned toward the voice. It belonged to a large and grubby human man with two equally large and grubby companions.

She ignored the little leap of trepidation in her belly and smiled politely. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. That’s kind of you to be concerned, but I’m just fine.”

The man’s grip tightened on her arm. “I think you’re lost. And I think you need us to help you find your way home.” He pulled her closer. “For a price.”

Rynne recoiled slightly from his rancid breath, then smiled more widely despite her rapidly beating heart. “No thank you, I’m perfectly fine,” she said. “Please, feel free to move on. Don’t let me hold you up.”

The thug narrowed his eyes. “You dumb or somethin’? Give us your fuckin’ money.”

Rynne sighed musically. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. But I do have to apologize.”

He glared at her. “Apologize for what?”

“For this,” Rynne said. Then, before she could think twice, she crushed the heel of her shoe onto his filthy bare foot.

The thug yelped in surprise and released her arm, and Rynne spun around as quickly as her skirts allowed and ran – straight into the chest of yet another man.

Her nose slammed into his sternum. “Fuck,” she blurted. She grabbed her aching nose and stumbled back, then glanced up through her watering eyes at the man she’d just walked into.

He wasn’t a human, but an elf. In the space of a split second, Rynne realized three things: first, this elf was extremely handsome, with dark tawny skin covered in strange trailing white lines and the most lovely sculpted lips she’d seen outside of an art museum. Second, he looked extremely dangerous, with one hand resting on the handle of his cutlass and a forbidding scowl on his face. The third and most surprising fact was this: Rynne had seen this man before.

It was the elf she’d made eye contact with a couple of weeks ago, when she’d managed to cajole her usual entourage to come to the threshold of the market with her and watch the goings-on. A rush of combined embarrassment and pleasure cut through her swiftly growing panic as she remembered that fleeting moment: the second that he’d met her gaze and the way his scowl seemed to soften for the briefest instant, and the way she’d shamelessly stared at him as though she wanted to eat him up–

A rush of heat bloomed in her cheeks. Fuck, fuck, shut the fuck up, Rynne, she scolded herself silently. He could be another assailant, for all she knew. Speaking of assailants…

She spun away from him and toward the humans who had originally approached her, but they were gone.

She let out a relieved sigh, then tensed and stepped away from the handsome elf. She lowered her hand from her nose and gave him a guarded look. “I’d like to think it’s my menacing demeanour that scared those assholes off, but somehow I think I’ll be disappointed,” she said. “Are you going to try and mug me, too?”

His stern eyebrows leapt high on his forehead, and Rynne winced. “Sorry. Do you – maybe you don’t speak common. Varric mentioned that a lot of the people who dock here don’t. Um…” She gave him a hopeful smile and tried out the only elvhen phrase she knew. “Andaran atish–”

“I speak common,” he snapped, and Rynne shivered involuntarily. Maker’s balls, he had a bloody nice voice.

And he wasn’t finished using it yet: he continued to berate her in a deep and disdainful tone. “You are fortunate that your coin is all they tried to take. You should not be here.”

“What do you mean?” she said shrewdly. “You don’t know where I’m from.” She was starting to feel a bit excited. Did he remember having seen her before, as well?

He scowled more deeply, and Rynne watched with delight as the very tips of his ears began to turn red. “You are obviously from Hightown,” he growled. “You should go back there now, before you cause anyone any further trouble.”

She bit back a smile. He clearly remembered her, but wasn’t willing to admit it.

She stuck out her hand. “I’m Rynne,” she said. “Rynne Hawke. It’s nice to meet you.”

He recoiled slightly from her and folded his arms, which naturally only served to draw Rynne’s attention to his hands and arms. The same white lines that curved down his chin and neck also climbed from his wrists all the way up to his shoulders.

Rynne forced her eyes back to his face: no hardship there, given how gorgeous he was. “All right, I’ll keep my hands to myself,” she said affably. “What’s your name?”

He frowned more deeply still. Then his posture loosened very slightly. “I am Fenris,” he said.

She smiled. “Fenris,” she said. “It’s lovely to meet you.” She turned back to the merchant. “Now, where were we…?”

“Price has gone up, lady,” the merchant said. “Seven silver for the business your antics cost me.”

Rynne froze with her fingers halfway into her coin purse. “Seven? Oh dear. I only have five.” She snapped her coin purse shut and turned away from the merchant’s stand in mock regret.

“Fine, fine,” the merchant hastily said. “Five silver, all right?”

She paused and widened her eyes. “Are you sure? I don’t want to discount your lovely workmanship–”

“It’s fine, lady,” the merchant grumbled. “The necklace is all yours.” He started wrapping it in a scrap of coarse brown burlap.

Rynne beamed at him. “You’re far too kind,” she said. Then she looked up at Fenris, who was studying her as though she’d grown an extra head.

She tilted her head. “Is something the matter?”

He stared her for a moment longer, then tucked his hands into his pockets. “That necklace is worth one silver at most,” he said in a quiet voice. “And he did not make it himself. He is fleecing you.”

Rynne gaped at him. “It’s not handmade?”

“Not by him, at any rate,” Fenris said. He glanced quickly at the merchant’s wares. “It is of elven make. It’s the workmanship of the free colonies on the Rialto Bay.”

Rynne’s eyes widened. “All the way from the Rialto Bay? Wow.” She gazed at the merchant’s wares for a moment longer, then held out her hand to the merchant. “May I?”

The merchant paused in the act of wrapping the necklace, then handed it over to her. Rynne reached up and untied her scarlet ribbon choker from around her neck, then held it out to Fenris. “Hold this for me, would you?”

He stared at her again as though she was some kind of strange creature, then gingerly took the ribbon from her hand.

Rynne unwrapped her new necklace from the scrap of burlap and swiftly clipped it around her throat. She fondly stroked the glass crystals, then smiled at the merchant. “Please give my compliments to the elves of Rialto Bay. And give them four of those silver that I gave to you.”

The merchant gave her a hard stare, then lowered his eyes. “Missus,” he grunted.

Rynne smiled more broadly, then looked up at Fenris. “Well, it’s clear that I don’t know what I’m doing here,” she said cheerfully. “Would you care to escort me around the market? I would be happy for the company of such a handsome elf.”

Fenris’s face twisted in an odd way: almost as though he tried to scowl and smirk at the same time. Then his expression returned to its default frown. “I can’t,” he said bluntly. “I am meeting someone.”

Rynne pouted to hide a legitimate pang of disappointment. “Meeting someone, you say?” She tilted her head and batted her eyelashes at him. “A special someone?”

He scowled. “That’s none of your business.”

She sighed. “Fair enough. Well then, now I have to find out as much about you as I can before your companion arrives. Are you a sailor?”

His scowl deepened, and he hunched his shoulders defensively. “Why do you want to know?”

“Curiosity, of course!” Rynne said. “This is obviously my first time here. Who knows if I’ll ever come back?”

“You are looking to collect stories to tell your friends back in Hightown, then?” Fenris replied. “Tales of the pathetic and the poor, so you can congratulate yourselves for avoiding such an ignominious fate?”

It was Rynne’s turn to recoil from his acidic tone. “What? No, not at all,” she said blankly. “I… honestly, I’d rather stay here than go back to Hightown. Despite the big smelly thugs and the fleecing merchants. I’ve never been on a ship before.” She glanced wistfully toward the port and the many merchant ships that were docked there, then looked up at Fenris once more. “What’s it like? Being on a ship?” She raised one eyebrow at him. “I’m assuming again that you’re a sailor, what with the gear and the bare feet.”

He studied her carefully for a moment longer, and Rynne forced herself to be patient as she waited for his response. Then he sighed and glanced toward the dock.

“It can be difficult,” he told her. “Storms can be near-fatal. Running out of fresh water is a constant concern. But it is a free life. That counts for more than comfort.”

Rynne stared at his stern and handsome profile with a growing lump in her throat. She swallowed hard, then looked off toward the horizon. “Well, shit,” she said lamely.

Fenris snorted.

Rynne looked up at him once more: he was smirking, the first evidence of amusement she’d yet seen on his face. It was enough to make her heart flutter.

She smiled at him. “What’s so funny?”

He shook his head and didn’t reply. Then a bright, cheerful female voice approached them.

“Fen! There you are!” A short, pretty elf with a gorgeous mass of silver hair bounced over and tapped Fenris’s arm. “I looked for you at Bohdan’s stand, I thought you said–”

Rynne’s jaw dropped. “You’re Mad Piper,” she gasped. “The one who escaped from jail!” She pressed a hand to her chest in excitement. “Oh Maker, I’ve heard so many stories about you. It’s lovely to meet you.”

The silver-haired elf beamed at her, then bowed deeply with a flourish. “I am Mad Piper, at your service, m’lady.” She straightened and eyed Rynne’s impractical dress with interest. “Lady, indeed. You’re a ways from home, aren’t you, love?”

“That is what I said,” Fenris grunted. He shot Rynne a pointed look as he spoke to Piper. “She insisted on staying after picking a fight with three human thugs.” He folded his arms. “An idiotic move in the extreme.”

Rynne lowered her eyes demurely. “Oh, Fenris, you certainly know how to flatter a lady.”

Fenris huffed. Piper’s keen gaze darted between Rynne and Fenris, and to Rynne’s surprise, Piper slung an arm around her neck. “Come on, m’lady, Fenris and I will give you a proper introduction to the market,” she said. She tilted her head. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“I’m Rynne,” she said. “Rynne Hawke.”

“Rynne Hawke! Fantastic name,” Piper enthused. “Almost a pirate-y name, actually.” She began to pull Rynne further into the market, and Rynne was delighted to follow her.

“It’s not as impressive as Mad Piper,” she replied. “So tell me, are the stories true?”

“Completely,” Piper said.

“Exaggerated,” Fenris drawled at the same moment.

Piper pulled her arm from around Rynne’s neck and punched Fenris lightly in the arm. “Excuse you! Don’t you listen to Varric? He says that every story is based on something true.” She turned to Rynne with a charming smile. “In my case, I guarantee that a solid eighty percent of what you’ve heard is true.”

“I heard you once knocked out a whole tavern of Carta thugs single-handedly,” Rynne said eagerly.

Piper’s grin became a grimace. “Well. I took out… maybe eighty percent on my own.” Fenris cleared his throat, and Piper dissolved into laughter. “Fine, maybe forty percent. I have a very loyal crew.” She winked at Fenris, who grimaced in response.

Rynne watched their playful back-and-forth with a slight ache in her chest. Despite Fenris’s inscrutable manner, he and Piper were obviously comfortable in each other’s presence. Rynne couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that way around anyone aside from her late sister.

She gazed between Piper and Fenris little wistfully. “How long have you two been together?” she asked.

Piper jauntily tucked her thumbs into her belt. “Oh, Fen’s been with me for–”

“We are not together,” Fenris interrupted.

Piper stopped and looked at him in confusion, then burst into laughter. “Oh! Oh fenedhis, you thought…? Nah, don’t be stupid.” She elbowed Rynne playfully. “Fen is like my brother. He’s been with my crew for… what, over a year now?”

Fenris nodded confirmation and shot Rynne a very quick glance, and her heart did a little flip in her chest. “Interesting,” she said.

Fenris pursed his lips and didn’t meet her eye, but the tips of his ears were turning very slightly pink again. Rynne smiled to herself and turned to Piper, who was grinning knowingly at her.

Rynne grinned back; she couldn’t help it. It somehow felt like she’d known Piper for ages even though they’d just met. “Tell me more about your life,” she said enthusiastically. “Where have you gone in the past year?”

Piper laughed again and ran her hands through her wild hair. “Not enough places, if you ask me,” she said. “We spent most of our time near Rialto Bay and along the coast of Rivain. There are a lot of free colonies there, and we helped them to resupply. It was a pretty dry season.” She snapped her fingers and looked at Fenris. “There was that one slaver ship though, the random one off the coast of Ferelden–”

“The Tevinter ship,” Fenris put in.

“Right. We sunk them good,” Piper said with relish. “But not before stealing all their supplies and their coin.”

“And freeing their slaves, of course,” Fenris drawled.

“Of course,” Piper chirped. “We should go back sometime and see how they’re settling in.”

Fenris nodded, and Rynne simply stared at them. All this travelling they did, freeing slaves and helping colonies to resupply… Piper and Fenris barely sounded like criminals at all. It sounded like they just did what they wanted, and what they wanted to do seemed to benefit a lot of people. But if they were pirates, clearly they were engaged in some kind of criminal activity…?

Rynne chewed the inside of her cheek as she tried to think of a tactful way to ask about it. Finally she decided to just blurt it out; she was sure that Piper wouldn’t mind.

Before she could ask, however, a loud and angry male voice called her name. “Lady Rynne!”

Rynne winced. Cullen, she thought with a jolt of dread. But to her surprise, Piper perked up.

She fluffed her hands through her hair and turned to Fenris. “How do I look?”

Fenris rolled his eyes. “The same as you always do,” he deadpanned.

“Not terrible, then,” Piper said cheerfully. “Excellent.” She shifted her weight coquettishly to one hip as Cullen strode toward them. “Golden Boy,” she purred in a sultry voice. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Rynne watched in fascination as Cullen’s angry expression melted into a look of worry. “Piper! What are you…” He trailed off and frowned at Rynne. “Wait. Do you two know each other?”

Rynne was equally confused – no, not confused. Intrigued. She looked at Piper and gestured at Cullen. “You know him?” she asked slyly.

Piper grinned at her salacious tone and took a slinky step closer to Cullen. “Not yet,” she said. “Someday though, if I’m lucky.”

Fenris made a strange choking noise. Rynne, meanwhile, couldn’t decide whether to be more entertained by Piper’s shameless flirtation, or concerned by the way Cullen’s face was turning uncharacteristically pale.

Piper, too, seemed to be concerned; she dropped the flirtatious act and frowned. “Cullen, is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghoul.”

He stared worriedly at her for a moment, then straightened and seemed to collect himself. He turned to Rynne with a stern expression. “Your brother reported that you’d gone missing. There is a search party looking for you.” His scowl deepened. “You told me you were waiting for him.”

Rynne sighed. Looks like the fantasy is over, she thought sadly. And it was going so well. She regretfully looked up at Fenris’s handsome face, then sighed.

“My apologies, Commander,” she said. She gave Cullen an innocent wide-eyed look. “I was hungry, you see, and the kebabs smelled so good… I’m very sorry that I caused you trouble.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Fenris’s eyebrows rising. Cullen, on the other hand, lifted a forgiving hand, just as Rynne had known he would. “It’s all right, Lady Rynne,” he said. “I will escort you home.” He chewed his lip in silence for a moment, then took a step closer to Piper.

He lowered his voice, but Rynne could still clearly hear him. “By the order of Admiral Meredith Stannard, you are to be taken into custody and hanged by the neck until dead,” he said.

Rynne clapped a hand over her mouth in horror, and Fenris restlessly shifted his weight. Piper, meanwhile, scoffed and folded her arms. “Are you fucking kidding?” she demanded. “For what?”

But Cullen shook his head slightly. “I must escort Lady Rynne home. It is my duty to ensure her safety as a citizen of Kirkwall,” he said carefully. “I will return to arrest you once this duty is done.”

Rynne immediately cottoned on. She didn’t know why Cullen was helping Piper, but she wasn’t going to question it. “Commander, if you wouldn’t mind, I do need to run some errands before returning home.” She placed one delicate hand on his forearm and batted her eyelashes. “Would you be so kind as to assist me?”

He relaxed slightly and nodded. “Yes, Lady Rynne, of course.” He looked at Piper once more. “I will be back to take you in,” he said in a loaded tone.

Piper gazed at him for a long moment. Then a slow smile lit her face. “Such a sweet man,” she murmured. “This isn’t the last you’ve seen of me, all right? I’m not quite done with you yet.”

Cullen shook his head and lowered his voice even further. “Kirkwall is no longer safe for you, Piper.” He glanced at Fenris. “For any of you.” He gently took Rynne by the arm and stepped away. “This is goodbye.”

Piper grinned, then darted forward and kissed his cheek. To Rynne’s vast amusement, his face instantly turned bright red.

Piper grinned at him. “Not for goodbye. For luck,” she said. She winked at Rynne, then slapped Fenris’s shoulder and darted away.

Fenris shot Rynne a quick frown – just quick enough for Rynne to smile at him in return – then he, too, disappeared into the crowd.

Rynne sighed, then turned to Cullen, whose cheeks were still red. She forced herself not to laugh at how flustered he looked. “All right, my dear Commander,” she said. “Would you care to tell me what in the Maker’s name is going on?”

Cullen rubbed his stubbled chin, then ushered Rynne forward with a gentle hand at her back. “Absolutely not. It is official navy business,” he said sternly. “You, on the other hand, had better tell me what you were doing here.” He frowned at her as they neared the stairs back to Hightown, but Rynne could see the worry in his face. “Were you… you were not… conspiring–?”

Rynne tutted delicately. “Of course not. I swear to you, I just met them today.” She raised her chin slightly defiantly. “Besides, they weren’t the ones to be worried about in that market. That Fenris fellow rescued me from some rather unsavoury gentlemen, in fact.” She gave Cullen an appraising look as they returned to the relative quiet of Hightown. “He may be a pirate, but he’s not a bad man.”

Cullen sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I am… not unaware of that, Lady Rynne,” he said quietly.

Rynne studied his profile with a pang of sympathy. He looked troubled, and it was quite obvious to Rynne that his actions in Lowtown would likely not be approved by his commanding officers.

Perhaps Rynne wasn’t the only resident of Hightown who was feeling rather… well, trapped.

They walked in silence for a time through the clean paved streets of Hightown. Then Rynne quietly addressed him. “I don’t really have any errands to run, you know.”

Cullen sighed. “Why am I not surprised?”

He sounded so long-suffering that Rynne almost laughed. But she bit her lip instead and stayed quiet. There was a good reason he’d accepted her feeble excuse, after all, and that reason was a pretty little captain with a mass of silver hair.

She tilted her head coyly. “Come to think of it, I do have to visit the book shoppe after all. Would you be so kind as to accompany me?”

The book shoppe was on the opposite end of Hightown from the navy headquarters. Cullen glanced at her, and Rynne could swear she saw a hint of gratefulness in his expression before he bowed his head. “Of course, Lady Rynne. For your own safety, of course.”

Rynne smiled. “Thank you, Commander,” she said. “I could never carry all that heavy parchment on my own.”

Cullen narrowed his eyes for a moment, but Rynne only blinked innocently, and he finally nodded and gestured for her to lead the way.

She and Cullen made boring polite conversation about their families as they slowly walked to the book shoppe. As they neared the cozy storefront, Rynne idly reached up to touch her scarlet ribbon choker.

Her fingers found the glass crystals of her new necklace instead. Rynne widened her eyes, then hastily began removing the necklace. If her mother saw it, she would throw an absolute fit. But where had Rynne put her choker?

Suddenly she remembered. She’d given it to Fenris to hold while she put the necklace on.

A flush of heat bloomed in her belly at the thought of Fenris. Maker’s fucking mercy, he was truly gorgeous. And mysterious, with that whole quiet-and-brooding thing and the marks on his chin and neck and arms. Rynne still wasn’t sure what those marks were; they didn’t quite look like tattoos, but what else could they be?

She sighed a little wistfully. I suppose I’ll never know, if Piper and her crew will be leaving Kirkwall for good, she thought. Piper made it sound like she’d evade the threat somehow, but even if the little pirate did sneak her way back into Kirkwall, it was unlikely that Rynne would be able to sneak back to Lowtown again. She was unlikely to ever see Piper – or Fenris – again.

She forced a smile onto her face as she and Cullen stepped into the book shoppe. I hope Fenris keeps my choker, she thought.

At least a part of Rynne would get to see the world that way.

[wahbegan]

four-foot-eleven replied to your post “four-foot-eleven replied to your post: Scary...”

But like my thing is how is Lulu still alive in 1968? She would have had to be really really old like over 100 then. I guess they really didn’t get into detail about the Baptiste family..like were they employed or were the Bellows slave owners? Because they lived during the Civil War era, but slavery was abolished in 1865. Also, how did Sarah die? I’ve seen everything from she was electrocuted by her no good brother but I’ve gathered she killed her family before killing herself I guess.

Okay so lemme clear up some things

Sarah, even though her ghost looks like an adult I guess ghosts can age was supposed to be it’s heaVILY implied like the protagonists’ age when she died

The Bellows are/were a long family line who were very rich for a very long time but when Sarah died, it was definitely post-slavery and The Bellows had The Baptistes on as domestic servants which often happened after the abolition of slavery. I’d guess it was sometime around the turn of the century when Sarah died, and Lulu in the flashback looked about...8-10? Maybe younger. So she’d be...80-90, i’d guess? The movie’s not GREAT with the exact timeline but i’m pretty sure that’s the intent

Sarah’s brother Ephraim was her doctor in the-okay wait i’m getting ahead of myself ahem so basically mercury run-off from their paper mill (aka their bread and butter) was poisoning the water and several kids had drank it and died. Sarah found out about this and tried to tell the townspeople, telling kids through the wall of the room she was locked in and shit. After that, and repeated attempts on her end to escape the basement, they sent her to an asylum

At the asylum, her doctor was her brother Ephraim, who in a fUCKING HARROWING ABSOLUTE WORST PART OF THE MOVIE I HATED IT wax cylinder, you hear him torturing her with electroshock and trying to gaslight her into admitting she killed the kids while she cries and begs for mercy

Lulu and her mom, they also found out were aiding and abetting Sarah, as evidenced when Lulu lies about not having seen her, and needed to get rid of them as well. Some people think they blinded Lulu as punishment, but it’s not clear

Either way, The Bellows official story was that the Baptistes, who fled to avoid The Bellows Family wrath, taught Sarah black magic and SHE was making the kids get sick and die via witchcraft

After enough abuse in the asylum and the whole town hating her as a murderer of children and calling for her blood, she committed suicide by hanging. Allegedly with her own hair, though that’s from an unreliable source (i.e. one of the kids) and might be an embellishment.

AFTER her death, one by one, her family members mysteriously disappeared without a trace. They find stories already written in the book, one corresponding to each family member, depicting their gruesome deaths at the hands of....whatever. The only one we know for sure was that The Wendigo got her father on a hunting trip. The rest are left up to us, but the stories seen as being already written are The Attic, The Cat’s Paw, Somebody Fell From A Loft, The Hook, May I Carry Your Basket?, Strangers, and The Ghost with Bloody Fingers.

After taking her revenge, Sarah Bellows’ spirit rests (relatively speaking, she still seems to haunt the house, but doesn’t appear to go after anyone via snuff story) UNTIL SOME STUPID LITTLE DUMB ASSHOLE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED disturbs her by fucking with her book, prompting her to go apeshit.

Hope this helps!!

[lazaefair]

Punished with solitude? Did you just black out after the Exegal sequence and only come to when the credits were rolling? Because the version that I saw in the theater continued with several scenes in which Rey seeks out, receives, and basks in the love of (at minimum) Finn (who spends the whole movie fighting for her - not just the last third - and didn’t need his mother to kill herself to give him the motivation to do it), Poe Dameron (basically the same), BB-8, Luke, Leia, and the entire Resistance, actually.

And there is absolutely no indication that she’s on Tatooine for any reason other than to honor her mentors/teachers/parent figures and even less indication that she intends to stay. (Do you really think she’d just steal BB-8 from Poe forever like that? Of course she’s going back home to her family.)

Also, the movie literally opens with Kylo Ren massacring the shit out of a bunch of people presumably just defending their home from First Order invaders. Come to think, TFA also opens with a Ren-ordered massacre. From the perspective of the massacre victims, “Kylo was the abused one!!!1!” as a defense is a non-starter, to say the least. Certainly doesn’t make them any less murdered. And it completely dismisses - outright belittles - the storylines for Finn and the other ex-stormtroopers and their fight against the canonical brainwashing (and accompanying trauma) that started in their childhoods as well.

You should be happy. Kylo got the exact same redemption as his cherished grandfather: a single good act at the end of a career of committing genocide that earns him the privilege of having one of the good guys smile at him, but does not absolve him of the billions of souls ripped prematurely out of the living Force whom he either aided & abetted in killing or personally murdered. Narratively, he has to die immediately after his one earned feel-good moment in order to answer for all the other unjustified deaths on his hands.

(If his heart was being weighed on Anubis’s scales, it would be absolutely ludicrous not to expect it to immediately outweigh the feather. Billions. Dead. Of-fucking-course it’s revenge porn. “You killed my father. Prepare to die” is one of the best-known and celebrated quotes in modern pop culture, and given how many fathers Kylo has killed - there is a lot of precedence for characters like him being the villain in a revenge story, is what I’m saying.)

[psychicdan]

Samurai Jack: Renegade Samurai

Rating M for graphic depictions, language, violence and suggestive themes

Warning:

The following is a work of fanfiction and is not intentionally connected to real world places, events, or people, nor intended to copy others’ work. Samurai Jack is the work of Genndy Tartakovsky, his team and affiliated studios and companies. This is solely fanfiction for fun and not profit.

Chapter IV: The First Mistake

           A highway road stretched across small slopes of land, stretching off one such slope into the horizon of the midday sun. Surrounding these stretches on slopes were grass fields with cobbles of trees here and there, giving the impression of an outdoor country experience. Or it would, if it wasn’t for the disturbing discrepancies in this natural landscape. Doting the sloping landscape of grass and trees were craters and wreckage. Though old and some overgrown with fauna, their presence left a scarring presence. Some of the craters were still barren, leaving no room for life. Some of the wreckage was still intact enough to make out their origin, appearing as tanks, warships, and other monoliths of warfare. A skeleton some distance from the road was lying in this land of nature and battle long past till the sound of an engine approached. The source, a bristling motorcycle, disturbed and had shaken the skeleton slightly with its nearby presence for only a second before speeding along the highway, leaving the deceased to their rest. The rider, Jack, still caught sight of this despite not stopping, and he returned his gaze to the road with a troubled, somber expression. It had been like this since they had left the sight of the city, and the landscape around their motorcycle kept showing the same grim aspect. Despite the apparent nature, old signs of death and combat littered the landscape beneath such natural wonder, showing testament to the power and horror that occurred long before. Given this highway and how often these sights popped up, it was likely this was a common sight for all the locals, but it still left Jack a bit numb. He had seen somewhat worse sights in Aku’s future, sure, but often it was clearly the demon’s forces at work. This was something he couldn’t quite settle on. Sure, it whatever happened ended long ago, but the hanging presence still gnawed at Jack, as though the battle itself still lingered. “What happened here? The devastation stretches for miles and shows no signs of ending. Is this the war that is spoken of by the people of this land? But…why? To have so much catastrophe, how could this happen?” Jack thought, but never receiving an answer for his questions. He only received clues from the landscape of recovering nature and decrepit war remains. Jack decided he would find answers later, and tried returning his focus to the road, when a growling sound had interrupted him. He was surprised, as he didn’t feel his stomach make that noise, but turned his head to see Ashi with her gaze turned down. “Heh, sorry”. she said with an embarrassed smile. Jack smiled back to show there was nothing to be embarrassed for. “I suppose it is a good time as any to settled down for a meal.” Jack said. His gaze was brought to the highway signs above, as there was note about an upcoming exit that lead to a settlement. It was not far, and would only take a few minutes, according to the notice anyway. Jack decided to take the turn, taking the side road off the highway.

…

           Soon enough, Jack and Ashi saw a clearing with a settlement at the center. It was certainly not like the city they had left, as it would only take a walk to circle through it all, with only a few one-story buildings and some farming area, appearing to be just a fledgling outpost of a settlement. Though a Protectorate building was visible, there didn’t seem to be patrols, and Jack was used to walking in public and not attracting the wrong attention. He and Ashi just needed to be discrete and not stay long. They stopped and parked the motorcycle a little distance away from the entrance and stepped into the outpost. The settlers didn’t pay much mind, only glancing up before returning to their business. Jack saw a building that seemed to be a restaurant of some sorts. The restaurant was titled “Bartakovsky’s” and seemed lively enough, so they entered. The place appeared like a classic diner of sorts, with everyone casually sitting eating at burgers, fries, bacon and whatnot. Though when Jack and Ashi sat down and looked at the menu, Jack declared in pleasant surprise “Oh, they have sushi”. “Yeah, the proprietor’s a real aficionado for those eastern traditions and aspects, imported some of their delicacies and serves them in all his restaurants all over. They even say he went nuts over that, uh, bushido, or whatever it’s called. So, you’ll be having the sushi I guess, how about you, hon?” the waitress said, addressing Ashi now as she took Jack’s order. “Oh, I’d like the same, with a touch of wasabi” Ashi said as Jack was slightly startled. She took a liking to the food from Jack’s home, but he found that she was a little adventurous compared to the desert food stall. Strange squirming alien fish was one thing for Jack, but even familiar wasabi was a different story. As they waited, Jack could hear a couple of local men talking to each other from the booth next to theirs. “So, they make that delivery to the concentration area yet?” said one man. “Yeah, ‘bout last night. Don’t know why the Protectorate even bothers with them, those people deserved to be locked up there, it’s not worth the trip up road. Well, here’s hoping they get what they deserved” chuckled the other man. Jack was irritated at those words, aggravated at how some bystander was taking pleasure at how people were being abused by the Protectorate. He look at Ashi, and she held the same aggravation in her eyes as he did. They both affirmed with that gaze and a slight nod that they wouldn’t stand by. Just then, the sushi came around, with Ashi saying “Alright, I was starving” as they both thanked for the food and began to eat. Though Jack was pleased with the comfortingly familiar taste, he winced as he saw Ashi apply wasabi to the sushi in brave amounts and gulped them down with satisfaction. She noticed his gaze and suddenly had a devious look on her face that frightened him. “You want some?” Ashi said, holding in front of him some sushi covered in wasabi. “Oh, uh, no, no thank you, I’m-guh?!” he said incompletely as it was forced into his mouth. “Ah, come on, you can take a bite” she said in a mocking pleading voice. Jack gulped down the sushi as it already reached his throat, and after that, the overwhelming, burning flavor seized him. He laid one hand on the table as he was gasping with water flooding his eyes, unable to take the crippling taste that lingered in his mouth. He grabbed the nearby tea he prepared before as he drank it to help wash out the flavor. Meanwhile, Ashi was giggling at the sight of him. She didn’t like it when other people tried to harm the man she loved, but when it came to herself toying with him for the heck of it, that was another story. Jack looked up at her with an exasperated expression, and Ashi said “I’m sorry, but that was hilarious. You’ve been serious this whole time, so I thought a little heckling would help. Can’t believe you don’t like wasabi though.” “Believe me, it is much rarer to like it the way you do. Still, thank you for trying to lift my spirits. These moments are quite relieving, in a way.” Jack said, sharing a tender look between himself and Ashi. That was interrupted though as the overhead tv nearby suddenly changed programming. “We interrupt to bring you a priority message from the Magnus Protectorate. Approximately two days ago, a man of armed with a sword and dressed in white robes was found causing public terror in City Area 1B37, assaulting and killing several Protectorate personnel as they attempted to stop him from causing city damage and public distress. Attempts to catch the suspect in question have met with more fatalities, as he was later aided and abetted by a woman who has now been confirmed to have defected from the Protectorate. Both are armed and extremely dangerous, and have been responsible for the total deaths of more than 50 of our fine Cyber Troopers. The identified Renegade Samurai, Jack, and his accomplish, the defector Ashi, are still at large and yet to be apprehended. If you should see these two individuals or gain a clue to their whereabouts, please do not confront them, instead inform the nearest Protectorate personnel immediately.” the notice program declared. On the screen was surveillance footage of the events that transpired in the previous city, followed by the names and images of both Jack and Ashi, declaring them wanted fugitives. Murmurs had grown in the restaurant following that, sounding rather concerned. “Mommy, mommy, that man and lady there, weren’t they on the tv earlier?” said a little boy eagerly as he pointed to Jack and Ashi who realized with concern that they needed to leave. The mother pulled in her child close with a concerned look as the father pulled out his phone to call the Protectorate’s law enforcement line. Wouldn’t be necessary though, as two Cyber Troopers came walking through, armed and looking through the crowd. “Sir, we saw the fugitives, they’re right, huh?!” the father shouted in surprise as he realized the booth was empty.

…

           Following the close call at the Bartakovsky’s, Jack and Ashi rushed to the motorcycle and got back on the road. They didn’t turn back towards to the highway though, instead heading in the other direction that led up from the settlement. “So, we’re looking into that concentration area then?” Ashi asked, already knowing the answer. Jack nodded with a stern gaze on his face, stating “If there are people made to suffer under Magnus without reason, then we can’t leave it be.”. Ashi also nodded, still uncomfortable at how callous those men were about the whole situation of people being in prisoned. The motorcycle drove on as the sun was beginning to make its downward shift with the afternoon. Soon, they saw a fenced off area, with several towers with searchlights between every few stretches of steel wall, with a fortified gate at the front. Jack knew they weren’t getting in that way, so he stopped the motorcycle some distance away from the wall before he and Ashi made their way on foot. Checking to make sure they were not within sight of the search towers, Jack instructed Ashi to get on his back. She did so, a bit perplexed, then became surprised as he thrust himself in the air and over the wall, landing on the other side with no issue. “H-How…” Ashi asked, with Jack responding, “Jump good.”. Ashi smiled at him, saying “You better show me how to jump good next time then.” as she began to climb down. They pressed forward, keeping distance from the road as they followed it. Soon enough, they noticed an area with several buildings, some appearing to be living areas of the same look, and some appearing to be for Protectorate use. By the looks of it, this was the concentration area thy had heard of. They snuck into the area and could hear the sounds of grunting and shouting. They followed the sounds, and they saw a group of men and women chipping away at a granite block, which was now partially taking on the form of Magnus. The one doing the shouting appeared to be the Protectorate official in charge, a sergeant. “Come on, you worthless pieces of shit! The Lord Protector did not show you mercy so you could laze off, show your gratitude and make that statue the best damn statue you can get! You still got a bunch more to do before week is out!” the sergeant screamed. The men and women groaned in response. They appeared rough and weary, and were sweating to exhaustion. A common theme they all sported though, beside their prison attire, was the tattoo of what seemed to be a sparrow dripping in red. Jack saw one man collapse, breathing out his exhaustion as the sergeant advanced. “Hey, get back up! You don’t see these assholes taking a nap, do ya?! Come on, get up!” he said as he kicked the downed man in the chest. One of the imprisoned people, a stern-faced woman with a scar angled alongside it with disheveled hair and sharp muscle tone, decided she had enough. She ran to the soldier and punched him in the helmet as he fell down. “Gah, damn bitch, hey, troops, get in here and discipline these animals!” he cursed as he pulled out a firearm on the fierce woman. Jack’s bottled frustration finally took aim with his gun as he fired at the sergeant’s hand, disarming him in bloody manner as a bullet tore through his hand with him screaming. The woman took only a second to look at him and Ashi before stomping her foot down and crushing his throat. By now, the other troops arrived, numbering at around a dozen. Jack charged in, firing his gun as he closed the distance and shooting down two of them as he summarily stabbed one, slashed another, and cut off the firing arm of another, all dying from their wounds. Before the others could react, Ashi leapt in from behind, slitting the throats of two, shooting up another two with her SMG, and then kicking the last one own as she stabbed him in the chest. They looked from the carnage to the Troops’ captives. “Whoa, never saw anyone kill bucket heads like that. So, who are you, anyways?” the woman asked, impressed with the display. “Jack”, “Ashi” they each responded. “We heard about this “concentration area” and figured people were being held abused here. Guess that’s true?” Ashi asked. “Yeah, it’s true as hell. Those Protectorate bastards hauled us all the way here to make glorified statues of their son-of-a-bitch leader Magnus. Been like that for 10 years now, till you came along. Anyway, name’s Soldra, and this sorry lot’s what’s left of our people, the Blood Sparrows. So, you got a plan?” Soldra asked. Jack and Ashi looked at each other, realizing they had only thought to check out the place, not organize a breakout, so they shook their heads. “Well, making it up as we go along works too. All right people, we’re ditching this place. Let’s raid the armory and burst through the gates!” Sandra declared with clarity and pride. The Blood Sparrows, gaining some rejuvenation through the increasing morale, formed up and ran to a nearby building. When they came back out, they were armed with whatever they could get, from combat blades to firearms and even a missile launcher. “Hey, give that thing a test, show our “Lord Protector�� our gratitude, huh” Sandra said. The Blood Sparrows smiled at that idea, followed with a fired missile at the statue. The explosion tore it to scatteredbits as the fractured face of Magnus landed near Jack. “All right, let’s move it!” Sandra said followed by cheers from the group they ran towards the gate, firing the rocket launcher at the gate, bursting it open. The guards from the watch towers that tried to stop them were shot down. Once they were outside, the Blood Sparrows cheered. “Hah, not so easy keeping us penned in when we’ve got the guns now! Listen, thanks for busting us out of that hell hole. We’ll remember it.” Sandra said. Jack and Ashi smiled as the Blood Sparrows marched forwards, pleased with their actions. They decided to make their own way back to the motorcycle, not yet realizing the full consequences of their actions.

…

           After prepping for a bit, Jack and Ashi set back on the road with the motorcycle. Since it led to a dead end at the concentration area, they decided to go back the way they came, deciding to try to keep distance from the settlement as they would make their way to the settlement. At least, that was the plan, but that was immediately forgotten by Jack and Ashi when they saw smoke in the direction of the settlement as they drove down. Jack pressed down on the throttle, and sure enough, the evening sky became blackened with fire and smoke, and the source of it all was the now burning settlement, with several of the buildings aflame or blown up. They could hear the sounds of screaming and gunfire, indicating whatever hostiles responsible were still there attacking the settlers. Jack stopped the motorcycle as it skidded in front of the settlement with him and Ashi running into the haze of flame and smoke. They saw several settlers screaming and others limping away with bleeding gunshot ones. Others around lay dead. They then saw something both surprising and traumatic. The same three-person family they saw in the diner was trapped in one of the burning buildings, pleading for help.  Before Jack and Ashi could do so though, a pair of Cyber Troopers rushed in instead, kicking down the door and running into the flames. They returned out a moment later, one carrying the parents on his shoulders and the other carrying the child on his back. Once they got away from the burning home, the troops gently deposited the family on the ground who were coughing. “Are you alright? We’ll evacuate the area and send word to the nearest outpost for backup, so let’s mo-GAHH?!” the heroic Cyber Trooper screamed in death as he was met with a bleeding gunshot to the back. The family became mortified with the death of one of their saviors, the boy huddled into the arms of his family, crying. The other trooper became alert and turned to the source. Out of the flames came two dozen, and as their silhouettes became clear, bearing ferocity in their steeled eyes and vicious smiles, Jack and Ashi couldn’t believe it. The killers were the Blood Sparrows. “War criminal bastards, I won’t let- Aghh!” the last Cyber Trooper yelled as he was met with a hail of gunfire, falling down in a small pool of his own blood. “Hey, why did you stop?! These wusses live under and serve that goddamn Protectorate, so their just as much targets as those bleddin’ bucket heads!” Soldra shouted, edging the others forward. “PLEASE, please just leave my family alone, I’m sorry we- uggh” the father pleaded as a shot went through his heart and he fell dead. “DADDY!” the son shouted trying to reach his deceased father in tears, the mother holding both him and her own tears back. The Blood Sparrows prepared to fire again when a shout came. “SOLDRA, STOP THIS!” Jack screamed in fury stepped forward to defend themother and child, Ashi bearing the same rage as him. “Wait, Jack, Ashi, wha, why are you stopping us? There damn Protectorate supporters, they do nothing, no worse than nothing, when they give everything to that ass Magnus!” Soldra retaliated. “Just because they’re his citizens doesn’t make them the same as his soldiers! These are defenseless men, women, and children you’re trying to slaughter! Why even bother, you’re free, there’s no need to fight!” Ashi counteracted. “Free, no need to fight, don’t give me that bullshit! Our people fought in the war 50 years ago, fighting for everything we could get. Then that damn Magnus put an end to that and tried to force his damn treaty on us! We weren’t taking that, so we kept fighting back, even as Magnus took more of our land and people accepted his goddamn protection! Our families and now ourselves kept the fight going for 40 years even when Magnus labelled us war criminals, and he decided to slaughter scores of us, claiming it was for the bloody peace! We were all that was left, and he eventually shackled us and threw us into that damn concentration area as “penance” for our crimes. We were treated like shit by the Protectorate for 10 whole years, and their people never spoke for us, they just mocked us as we were dragged away! We’re all that’s left, everyone else died fighting the Protectorate, and I say that’s how we’ll live and die too! Anything but kiss Magnus’s ass for life!” Soldra declared with no signs of remorse. Jack was shocked by all this. Though they were abused, the people before him were war criminals who denied any chance for peaceful resolution, and didn’t care who got caught in their vengeance against Magnus. Their anger was understandable, but to strike down innocents just to try and hurt Magnus, there was nothing righteous in it. He looked to Soldra, hoping to say something for compromise, but then held his tongue as she saw the look in her eyes. It wasn’t the same humbled gratitude as before, only maddened pain and rage was there, ready to slaughter anything for suffered injustice. Jack steeled himself, silently cursing himself for what he had to do. He drew his sword, and declared “Leave, now.” even though he knew that wasn’t happening. The Blood Sparrows readied their own weapons. Amid the burning wreckage and smoke, there was a long silence between the two groups that was only broken by the cackling flames until the words came. “Kill them!” Soldra shouted. The Blood Sparrows fired, but Jack and Ashi were ready, Jack deflecting shots with his sword as Ashi fired, breaking the enemy formation and taking out three of them. They were in close now, as Jack cut down two Blood Sparrows and stabbed a third. The others retaliated, bringing out combat blades to clash with the pair. Five had tried to corner and assault Ashi, thinking their numbers and superior blades would make it easy. They were wrong, as Ashi slashed the arm of the first attacker wide open, grabbed his blade, and now with two blades, parried two more attackers followed by sharp stabs. The last two tried a pincer maneuver, but Ashi blocked again, and took advantage of the lock to use her foot to break the balance one and stabbed them as thy fell. The other, a woman, tried to attack from behind while she did so, but Ashi, had grabbed her opponent’s arm without looking at her and threw her down in front of her. The Blood Sparrow opened their eyes to see Ashi bring her combat blade down to her forehead right before her death. Jack dealt with another five breaking the blades of two apart as he then slashed into the attackers, then blocked a third. He reached for his firearm and shot the unsuspecting opponent through the chest, followed by a couple of shots to the shoulders of the two remaining Blood Sparrows, causing them to drop their weapons as Jack sliced the Blood Sparrows apart. Including Soldra, 5 remained. “Hold that one off, I’ll deal with Jack.” Soldra said. The four Blood Sparrows closed in on Ashi, and as Jack tried to join her, he was intercepted with a blade from Soldra. His eyes furrowed in frustration as he now began clashing with her. While the clash was going on, Ashi had kicked the combat blade from one Blood Sparrow, cut him through the chest, parried and then stabbed another using her two weapons, and then ducked one attacker and slashed at her knees followed by a stab to the back. The last, enraged, tried going in for a frontal charge. It was practically suicide, as he literally charged in headfirst and then got stabbed through the skill, blood overflowing from the head. Returning to Jack’s fight, he had tried to go in for a parry and gunshot, but Soldra saw this and tossed his pistol aside. She then went in with a raged flurry of blows, Jack countering each one and trying to find an opening. He found it, and slashed across Soldra’s arm, not completely, but enough that it was a gruesome sight. Soldra collapsed from the sheer agony as blood spilled from her side, and now she was screaming in rage. “AHHH, YOU BASTARD! You damn bastard! You’re just like him, you’re just like that asshole Magnus! You think you can just make everyone see your way and make the fighting stop or else?! We could never accept being beaten by someone like that and follow his rules! Screw his rule and order, and screw you too! Whose side are on anyway?!”. Jack was stunned by the accusation, as he had never been cursed like this, to be seen as unjust, or be seen as anything like his enemy. He wanted to counter, but it actually hit home in some ways. He did think in how to make others see compromise, and often times used violence to resolve conflicts that came to violence. He hadn’t even thought of what to do if someone rejected his point to the end, but in times where it came to that, then he had to be the one who delivered the end. He always thought being neutral in conflicts was best, so to have that called out as the worse decision, it made him think in troubled manner. Ultimately, he came to realize, however much he wanted to reject it, how close his beliefs came to Magnus’s doctrine. “Well, what are you waiting for?! End it!” Soldra shouted. Jack looked down with distress on his face. Ashi came to his side, and she had heard what had been said and could read his expression and meaning. She placed a hand on his arm, indicating that she would see it through. Jack shook his head, as he knew he started this, and needed to accept the responsibility and consequences. So, with one clan stroke, he slashed across Soldra’s neck as her head toppled off. With that, the last of the Blood Sparrows, a warring people, had been ended by Jack’s hands. He turned to the mother and child, who were now crying over the fallen father. The surviving settlers had begun to gather around the scene, and began to recognize Jack and Ashi. “Hey, you’re the damn renegades the Protectorate warned everyone about! You let those crazy war criminals loose, didn’t you?!” shouted a settler. “No, wait, I…” Jack said before getting interrupted. “Get out of here, haven’t you killed enough of us already, or do you want slaughter all of us like they did?!” shouted another settler. Jack looked around in shock, realizing that all this destruction and death, it was the result of his actions. He looked to the mourning family. “I… I am sorry, I…” Jack said before the boy looked up at him with eyes filled with anger and tears. “You… you killed my daddy! I HATE YOU!” the boy screamed at the wide-eyed Samurai. Jack felt his soul writhing in guilt then, and could only close his eyes to try to accept the current reality. He simply picked up his gun, sheathed his sword, and walked out of the burning settlement, his own shame forbidding him from looking back. Ashi followed along, wanting to say something, but never able to think of the right words, only look at him with concern and grief. They returned to the motorcycle and began to depart into the blazing night. Ashi held her arms tight around Jack, trying to convey to Jack that it would be alright, that she would be there when he wanted to talk things out and would stand by him. Jack felt and appreciated the loving effort, but couldn’t bear to speak or even smile. In fact, the comfort of the hug made him feel a little worse in the end, as he felt he only deserved condemnation.

…

“Shit, this report accurate Xander?” Magnus asked in slight dismay. “Yes, Lord Protector. The Samurai Jack and his partner Ashi were sighted in the settlement nearest to City Area 1B37, and are believed responsible for the breakout at the concentration area. The Blood Sparrows went on a massacre, inflicting fatalities on our people. The Samurai and the traitor were then witnessed killing all of the Blood Sparrows.” Xander reported, grim from reading the details. “Those Blood Sparrows had always been a pain, never letting the war go and inflicting fatalities everywhere. By the time we were done cornering them to submission, they were so few, like they wanted to die fighting in vain. That Jack was a real dumbass, letting those lunatics loose.” Magnus mused. He had attempted numerous times to broker peace with the Blood Sparrows, but they always tried to kill his messengers in return. Trying to subdue them turned into a bloodbath with how resistant they were, and after a 40-year campaign, only 2 dozen were left to capture. It was a pity, and even though they wouldn’t want of it, Magnus thought they could be saved and redeemed if they labored and reflected on their actions. In the end though, it turned to a complete and bloody genocide. That was how foolish resistance to the death really was. “Well, we can add this to his list of crimes, but it goes to show what damage he’s really capable of. Xander, notify the 1st Class Inquisitors, tell them to bring down Samurai Jack, dead or alive, as soon as possible.” Magnus declared. “Yes, Lord Protector.” Xander stated as he left the room. Magnus then turned to the night sky and looked out over the lit city below his citadel. He would protect everything he had built, and see that no rogue elements, whether warring parties or a samurai, would threaten what he labored for. The Inquisitors would see to that. The 1st Class Inquisitors, no rogue element stands a chance. You will suffer the consequences, Samurai Jack. Magnus thought as he turned away from the view, confident he and his world would be free of the Renegade Samurai.

Author Note:

So, the tone changed fast huh. Near the beginning you had a funny, cute moment with Ashi force feeding Jack wasabi, and by the end Jack kills the people he helped in the first place. You’re probably thinking “Dan, why the hell are you making this dark?”. Well, I actually planned this chapter to be the first moment when Jack runs into a serious moral dilemma. He tried to solve one of this world’s conflicts using his same right and wrong sense, but it turns out horribly as things just aren’t that simple or black and white. I doubt the other moral conflicts will be this bad, but this was designed to set a very bloody first impression. Heck, I even allude to the war talked about so far, and it will be explained and have a heavy role in the backstory. Now, on the lighter things. Yeah, the whole Bartakovsky’s thing is a reference to Genndy Tartakovsky, the creator of Samurai Jack and other cartoon shows and movies. I planned for some time to do a diner in reference to him, but changed the name slightly to be cautious. It is just a joke, don’t want any plagiarism or unauthorized use accusations. Rest assured, Bartakovsky’s is going to pop up a few times in Renegade Samurai. I put sushi in the diner just because of how I wanted to give Jack a regular chance to have the taste of home, and reference how Tartakovsky had a fascination with Asian traditions like bushido. The whole wasabi thing was just for a tender and funny romance bit, and I figured that while Ashi is tough enough to handle it, Jack is tamer in comparison. You have no idea how funny the scene was in my head. Now then, next chapter will have Jack confronting another dilemma as he and Ashi are confronted by one of the Inquisitors of the Magnus Protectorate.

[newstfionline]

Those Indecipherable Medical Bills

By Elisabeth Rosenthal, NY Times Magazine, March 29, 2017

The catastrophe struck Wanda Wickizer on Christmas Day 2013. A generally healthy, energetic 51-year-old, she suddenly found herself vomiting all day, racked with debilitating headaches. When her alarmed teenage son called an ambulance, the paramedics thought that she had food poisoning and didn’t take her to the emergency room. Later, when she became confused and groggy at 3 a.m., her boyfriend raced her to Sentara Norfolk General Hospital in coastal Virginia, where a scan showed she was suffering from a subarachnoid hemorrhage. A vessel had burst, and blood was leaking into the narrow space between the skull and the brain.

During a subarachnoid hemorrhage, if the pressure in the head isn’t relieved, blood accumulates in that narrow space and can push the brain down toward the neck. Vital nerves that control breathing and vision are compressed. Death is imminent. Wickizer was whisked by helicopter ambulance to the University of Virginia Medical Center in Charlottesville, 160 miles away, for an emergency procedure to halt the bleeding.

After spending days in a semi-comatose state, Wickizer slowly recovered and left the hospital three weeks after the hemorrhage, grateful to be alive. But soon after she returned home to her two teenage children, she found herself confronted with a different kind of catastrophe. Wickizer had had health insurance for most of her adult life: Her husband, who died in 2006, worked for the city of Norfolk, which insured their family while he was alive and for three years beyond. After his death, Wickizer worked in a series of low-wage jobs, but none provided health insurance. A minor pre-existing condition--she was taking Lexapro, a common medicine for depression--meant that her only insurance option was to be funneled into the “high-risk pool” (a type of costly insurance option that was essentially rendered obsolete by the Affordable Care Act and now figures in some of the G.O.P. plans to replace it). She would need to pay more than $800 per month for a policy with a $5,000 deductible, and her medical procedures would then be reimbursed at 80 percent. She felt she couldn’t afford that. In 2011, she decided to temporarily stop working to tend to her children, which qualified them for Medicaid; with trepidation, she left herself uninsured.

And so in early 2014, without an insurer or employer or government agency to run interference between her and the hospital, she began receiving bills: $16,000 from Sentara Norfolk (not including the scan or the E.R. doctor), $50,000 for the air ambulance. By the end of January, there was also one for $24,000 from the University of Virginia Physicians’ Group: charges for some of the doctors at the medical center. “I thought, O.K., that’s not so bad,” Wickizer recalls. A month later, a bill for $54,000 arrived from the same physicians’ group, which included further charges and late fees. Then a separate bill came just for the hospital’s charges, containing a demand for $356,884.42 but little in the way of comprehensible explanation.

In other countries, when patients recover from a terrifying brain bleed--or, for that matter, when they battle cancer, or heal from a serious accident, or face down any other life-threatening health condition--they are allowed to spend their days focusing on getting better. Only in America do medical treatment and recovery coexist with a peculiar national dread: the struggle to figure out from the mounting pile of bills what portion of the fantastical charges you actually must pay. It is the sickness that eventually afflicts most every American.

What’s less understood is the extent to which our current medical-billing system itself is responsible for the high prices patients are charged. There are, of course, many factors that have led to the United States’ record-breaking $3 trillion health care bill: runaway drug prices, excessive testing and sky-high charges for even the most basic medical interventions. But all of those individual price increases have been enabled--indeed, aided and abetted--by the complex system of billing and coding that underlies bills like those sent to Wickizer. That system, with its lines of alphanumeric codes and arcane medical abbreviations, has given birth to a gigantic new industry of consultants, armies of back-room experts whom medical providers and insurance companies deploy against each other in an endless war over which medical procedures were undertaken and how much to pay for them. Caught in the crossfire are Americans like Wanda Wickizer, left with huge bills and indecipherable explanations in languages they cannot possibly understand.

Seemingly subtle choices about which code to use can have large financial consequences. If after reviewing a hospital chart of, say, a patient who has just had a problem with his heart, a hospital coder indicates the diagnosis code for “heart failure” (ICD-9-CM Code 428) instead of the one for “acute systolic heart failure” (Code 428.21), the difference could mean thousands of dollars. “In order to code for the more lucrative code, you have to know how it is defined and make sure the care described in the chart meets the criterion, the definition, for that higher number,” says one experienced coder in Florida, who helped with Wickizer’s case and declined to be identified because she works for another major hospital. In order to code for “acute systolic heart failure,” the patient’s chart ought to include supporting documentation, for example, that the heart was pumping out less than 25 percent of its blood with each beat and that he was given an echocardiogram and a diuretic to lower blood pressure. Submitting a bill using the higher code without meeting criteria could constitute fraud.

Each billing decision, then, can be seen as a battle of coder versus coder. The coders who work for hospitals and doctors strive to bring in as much revenue as possible from each service, while coders employed by insurers try to deny claims as overreaching. Coders who audit Medicare charts look for abuse to reclaim money or fraud that needs to be punished with fines. Hospital coders teach doctors--and doctors pay to take courses--to learn how they can “upcode” their charts to a more lucrative level with minimal effort. In a doctor’s office, a Level 3 visit (paid, say, at $175) might be legally transformed into a Level 4 (say, $225) by performing one extra maneuver, like weighing the patient or listening to the lungs, whether the patient’s illness required that or not.

Toward the end of the 20th century and into the next, as strategic coding increased, a new industry thrived. For-profit colleges offered medical-coding degrees, and internships soon followed. Because alphanumeric coding languages are as distinct from one another as Chinese is from Russian, different degree tracks are necessary, along with distinct professional organizations that offer their own particular professional exams, certifications and licensing. Hospital systems and insurers--which have become huge, Hydra-like enterprises--now all employ roomfuls of coding-program graduates to perform these tasks. Membership in the American Academy of Professional Coders has risen to more than 170,000 today from roughly 70,000 in 2008.

Individual doctors have complained bitterly about the increasing complexity of coding and the expensive necessity of hiring their own professional coders and billers--or paying a billing consultant. But they have received little support from the medical establishment, which has largely ignored the protests. And perhaps for good reason: The American Medical Association owns the copyright to CPT, the code used by doctors. It publishes coding books and dictionaries. It also creates new codes when doctors want to charge for a new procedure. It levies a licensing fee on billing companies for using CPT codes on bills. Royalties for CPT codes, along with revenues from other products, are the association’s biggest single source of income.

Patients with good health insurance are often blissfully unaware and mostly unaffected by the jockeying that goes on over how to code their bills. But uninsured patients like Wickizer, or (increasingly) those with high deductibles, are stuck with no insurer to argue on their behalf. Her experience with the University of Virginia Medical Center is not unique: Studies have shown that hospitals charge patients who are uninsured or self-pay 2.5 times more than they charge those covered by health insurance (who are billed negotiated rates) and three times more than the amount allowed by Medicare. That gap has grown considerably since the 1980s.

When Wickizer arrived home from the hospital in January 2014, she had trouble concentrating and finding words; she spoke deliberately, slowly. She remembers nothing before February, she says, but relied on help from her parents, who live nearby, and her boyfriend, who is retired from the Navy. She did her best to address the onslaught of bills that began appearing in her mailbox.

First, she took stock of her finances. She paid the rent for the Norfolk apartment that she and her children lived in by renting out a townhouse that she and her deceased husband had bought in Virginia Beach; after paying property tax, insurance and maintenance on the townhouse, she just broke even. She also received about $2,000 a month in Social Security survivor benefits because of her husband’s death. In addition, she had about $100,000 from her husband’s life insurance in a retirement account, which she was also hoping would help pay for her children’s college. With medical bills totaling nearly $500,000 and no health insurance, the numbers didn’t add up. “My dad said: ‘They’ll never expect you to pay that,’” Wickizer told me. “But they did.”

As a sign of good faith, she quickly paid $1,500 to the hospital and $1,000 to the doctors and sought to make sense of the bills. Patients today are told to be good medical consumers, but they are asked to write checks for thousands of dollars--in this case hundreds of thousands--with little explanation of what they’re for. Wickizer did what she would have done with a credit-card statement: She contacted the hospital and requested an itemized bill. Her idea was that if she could understand how much she was being charged for each procedure, she could compare the fees with the reimbursements that Medicare or another insurer would pay for those services and begin some kind of negotiation.

A month later, on March 19, the hospital finally sent a list of charges, using medical abbreviations and terminology but not revealing the all-important alphanumeric codes. Despite being 60 pages long, the tally seemed incomplete, leaving out doctor’s charges and including other fees that seemed incidental, like charges for catheters, wires and oxygen. Room charges were vastly different on different days.

Nearly simultaneously, she received a one-page bill for the hospital portion of her care, broken down only into the broadest categories, including $111,162 in room charges, $34,755.75 for pharmacy, $19,653 for labs, $8,640 for the operating room, $8,325 for anesthesia, $1,143 for the recovery room, $44,524 for medical supplies and $40,489 for radiology services, totaling $356,884.42. The bill informed her that the medical center was prepared to offer her its standard 20 percent discount for patients who are uninsured, leaving a “what you owe now” fee of $285,507.58. It noted that the hospital could offer some additional financial assistance, but only if her household of three had assets of less than $3,100 (“such as bank or retirement accounts”), which disqualified Wickizer and very likely most Americans who have ever held a job.

Next, she did her best to find out what Medicare or another insurer would have paid for her hospitalization, hoping to offer the hospital that amount from her retirement account. To understand the Medicare codes, she had to learn a bit of coding language. Would her hospitalization count as Medicare DRG 020 or 021? She estimated that in 2013, her subarachnoid hemorrhage (most likely coded, she determined, as “intracranial hemorrhage or cerebral infarction disorders, DRG 021, with procedures and major comorbidities or complications”), would have been reimbursed by Medicare for about $80,000. Had a member of the armed services experienced the same condition, Tricare, the military insurer, might have paid closer to $70,000. But to know how much a commercial insurer would have paid, she would have to figure out what HCPCS codes the hospital used to calculate her bill, and the hospital did not send those. Hospitals tend to treat their billing strategies--codes and their master price list, called a charge master--as trade secrets vital to their business. State laws and judges tend to respect that as proprietary information.

When the billers called insisting on payment of the full $285,507.58, Wickizer explained, “I don’t have this kind of money.” She offered the hospital and its doctors the $100,000 in her retirement account. They declined and suggested that she sign up for a payment plan of $5,000 a month to the hospital--and a second $5,000 plan for the physicians’ group. It was an untenable amount.

In October 2014, a sheriff affixed a summons to Wickizer’s front door, saying that the university was suing her for nonpayment.

After receiving the summons, Wickizer resorted to a technique followed by many a frustrated customer: She went on Facebook, posted her story and solicited advice. (The Facebook group Paying Till It Hurts, where she posted her story, was created in 2014 in connection with a New York Times series that I wrote with the same name.) A handful of experts--patient advocates, billing professionals, lawyers and a coder--volunteered their help pro bono to try to get more information from the medical center and translate the coding that yielded the unaffordable figure. (One notable aspect of our commercialized health system is that for every person who is pushing to profit, there is another who is doing his or her best to protect patients.)

In vetting Wickizer’s bill, the experts encountered roadblocks from the medical center at every turn in a contentious battle that lasted for over a year. Multiple legal requests to review Wickizer’s chart and complete bill--with its coding elucidated--were refused. Nora Johnson, a retired hospital bill-compliance auditor from West Virginia who volunteered to help Wickizer, noted that not revealing the billing codes constituted a violation of federal law. No insurer would have paid the bills without seeing them, allowing at least a rational attempt at negotiation. As Wickizer’s team wrote to the University of Virginia in one of their letters: “No Codes = No Pay.” The University of Virginia Physicians’ Group, which independently charged Wickizer $54,000, eventually turned over its billing codes. Wickizer’s experts were able to use the bill fragments they had received in discovery, supplemented by those codes, to get a better idea of what medical procedures Wickizer received during her three-week hospitalization. From there, they tried to extrapolate how the hospital had, perhaps, coded her case. By examining the cost reports the University of Virginia hospital must file with Medicare, which indicate the amount it spends delivering certain types of care, Christine Kraft, another medical-billing expert, estimated that even by its own calculations, the medical center spent less than $60,000 treating Wickizer.

The stealth battle between hospitals and insurers over bills for each hospitalization, office visit, test, piece of equipment and procedure is costly for us all. Twenty-five percent of United States hospital spending--the single most expensive sector in our health care system--is related to administrative costs, “including salaries for staff who handle coding and billing,” according to a study by the Commonwealth Fund. That compares with 16 percent in England and 12 percent in Canada.

That discrepancy comes, in part, from the prolonged negotiations over payment and the huge number of coders, billers and collectors who have to be compensated: Their salaries and loans from those years of training in obscure languages are folded into those high charges and rising premiums. In addition, as is often the case in warfare, the big conventional army can be at a disadvantage: The insurance companies and government seem to be always one step behind the latest guerrilla tactics of providers’ coders.

For years, creative coding has been winning over what the government calls “correct coding,” meaning coding that gives providers their due, but without exaggeration. Indeed, each attempt by the government to control questionable coding to enhance providers’ revenue has seemed to only fuel more attempts. In 1996, for example, Medicare’s National Correct Coding Initiative made it clear that certain codes couldn’t appear on the same bill because they were inherently part of the same procedure. As a rule, an anesthesiologist could not, for example, separately bill for anesthesia and checking your oxygen level during your surgery. But the government created Modifier 59--a code that could be appended to other codes to allow doctors to take exceptions to that rule in unusual cases. Modifier 59 could be used to allow for two payments in certain situations, such as when an oncology nurse needed to insert two separate IVs for two different purposes--one to administer chemotherapy, say, and another hours later because the patient seemed dehydrated. Such cases were expected to be exceedingly rare.

But just as entrepreneurial corporate tax lawyers search each new tax code for economic advantage, entrepreneurial coders and billers find loopholes to exploit at the edge of the law. An investigation by the Health and Human Services Office of the Inspector General in 2005 found many instances of Modifier 59 abuse. Forty percent of code pairs billed with Modifier 59 in 2003 were not legitimate, resulting in $59 million in overpayment. Similarly, when Medicare announced that it would pay only a set fee for the first hour and a half of a chemotherapy infusion--and a bonus for time thereafter--a raft of infusions clocked in at 91 minutes.

Like nearly every area of medicine, coding science has advanced--though not to the patient’s benefit. Commercial computer “encoder” programs maximize income from coding and make helpful suggestions (“That could be billed for Level 3,” or “Did you forget Code 54150,” indicating a circumcision on a bill for a male newborn). Today many medical centers have coders specializing in particular disciplines--joint replacement or ophthalmology or interventional radiology, for example. Advanced coding consultants advise lesser coders. The Business of Spine, a Texas-based consulting firm with a partner office in Long Island, advises spine surgeons’ billers about what coding Medicare and commercial insurers will tolerate, what’s legal and not, to maximize revenue. The evolution of this mammoth growth enterprise means bigger bills for everyone--whether through increasing premiums and deductibles on insurance policies or, as in Wickizer’s situation, depleting the savings earmarked for children’s college.

Like many medical centers, the University of Virginia Health System has turned at least some of its billing and debt collection over to professionals, third-party contractors who have no pretense of the charitable mission espoused by the University of Virginia, founded by Thomas Jefferson in 1819 to educate leaders in public service. The collectors are often paid a percentage of the money they recover. They tend not to care whether a procedure was coded well or poorly. Their task is usually to go after the total sum the hospital says it is owed.

In Wickizer’s case, the hospital brought in a law firm that specialized in debt collection, then called Daniel & Hetzel and based in Winchester, Va. For a year and a half, Wickizer’s team of experts dissected the bills and negotiated with the hospital and its representatives at the law firm over its charges and coding strategies--just as insurers do behind the scenes on patients’ behalf. The experts laid out their logic for what might constitute reasonable payment in a detailed report based on what they could discover about Wickizer’s care: how it could be coded and what other hospitals and insurers would have paid. They helped her local lawyer, Kelly Roberts, write motions for discovery and legal letters and made offers of payment between $65,000 and $80,000, which they calculated should provide the hospital a profit on the services rendered to Wickizer.

But the hospital did not accept any of the offers. In a letter, Peter Hetzel, an attorney at the firm, said his client would accept only just over $225,000, saying the University of Virginia Medical Center was “the victim here.” He noted, too, that the small rental property that Wickizer owned--appraised at $90,200 in 2014--was considered fair game for the hospital to seize as payment.

In February 2016, Wickizer received a letter from the state of Virginia saying that the medical center would be dunning money from any tax refund she might get. At one point, in exasperation, Wickizer wrote to her group of experts: “More than likely I am going to have to declare bankruptcy by the time this is all said and done, and I just would like to have everything settled. I want to pay them what I have and what is fair.”

By then, Wickizer was recovering physically and had married her boyfriend. But she was still struggling with stress from the uncertainty of the mammoth bills hanging over her. With court dates scheduled and postponed, motions filed and denied, she and her pro bono lawyer from Chicago, Tom Osran, along with her local lawyer were finally scheduled to face off in court with the University of Virginia Medical Center on April 29, 2016. The day before trial, after Osran was preparing to book his plane ticket to Virginia, and after I called the hospital inquiring about attending the court session, the case was dismissed. The terms of the settlement are sealed.

Nearly a year later, Wickizer remains exhausted by the ordeal. Her speech, which was hesitant when I first spoke with her more than two years ago, sounds fluid now, and she is funny and thoughtful, though she says she still occasionally needs to search to find the right word, a form of a condition known as aphasia. Now working part-time as a clerk in a small store, she would like to go back to her previous work as a bookkeeper, she told me when we spoke in March. But she has failed to secure a job; she worries that her barely noticeable speech problems make her job interviews less than optimal. Or perhaps, she frets, the problem is her credit rating, which (unknown to her at the time) dropped more than 200 points after the doctors who cared for her reported her unpaid bills to credit agencies. That black mark will remain until 2021, even though her legal case is resolved and she now has military health insurance through her husband. And, she notes with a sigh of resignation, “I’m the kind of person who’s always tried to do everything right.”

[wittywallflower]

So I clicked on some clickbait on FB, as one does, and started reading 25 Things Wrong With Gilmore Girls We All Choose To Ignore thinking “I’m not gonna get defensive on every little point because no media, even my faves, are perfect”. And several of the points made were actually good points that highlighted problematic elements of the show.

But. Plenty of the points still left me with Things To Say.

I’m not gonna touch on all 25, feel free to click the link to see them all. But here’s the ones I decided to nitpick about:

19. STARS HOLLOW'S WEIRD OBSESSION WITH RORY

"Seriously, were there no other cool kids in Stars Hollow for the entire town to creepily focus its attention on? Everyone is obsessed with Rory – Taylor basically forces her to be Queen of Stars Hollow and everyone else is thinks the sun shines out of her forehead for literally no reason.

Sure, she’s nice and the whole “it takes a village to raise a child” idea is endearing, but at the end of the day, the Stars Hollow residents’ level of investment in Rory Gilmore is creepy, inappropriate, and kind of annoying. What about Lane?"

I feel this entry has a little tunnel vision. The show is about the Gilmores so the focus is on Rory as the cool kid the town loves. But i see plenty of evidence the townspeople act similarly towards other kids, not just Rory. Everyone in town knows what Mrs. Kim is like but instead of respecting her parenting decisions, they are happy to slyly aid and abet Lane in breaking all her rules. They give her rehearsal space and hire her band for events. They dont tell Mrs Kim when they see Lane change into a Sex Pistols tshirt in a phone booth (example invented: we all know it was the Dead Kennedys) Dean is in town for like 2 minutes before everyone (including people who haven’t met him yet) know he is looking for a job and they all start comparing notes on where he should work. I think there is enough evidence in those glimpses to suggest that SH adults are like this with more kids than just Rory. We just dont see a whole about many SH kids. Frankly we get to see more about some of the Chilton’s kids (I know exactly where Louise’s father is (prison) yet no fucking clue about Mr Kim).

THE GILMORES ARE IMPOSSIBLY JUDGMENTAL

"Okay, we get it, the Gilmores were dysfunctional. It made sense that after the first few seasons of them getting to know each other again they would still hit roadblocks.

It took Emily and Richard nearly seven years to give Lorelai the credit she deserved.

We get that they wanted her to succeed on a higher level than she already was, but after seven years of Lorelai insisting on living her life the way she wanted to, the most Richard and Emily could do was basically give her a punch on the arm in the series finale. That made both of them seem more emotionally stunted than they actually were.”

This is where i started to wonder if the author of this listicle had actually… met real life people. They WERE emotionally stunted in more than one way, but also they were prideful. Pride will make it so people refuse to bend even when they know they are wrong. Especially when they know they are wrong. I find this completely realistic and it makes sense to me because I know people whose parents still haven’t forgiven them for choosing a different college than their parents wanted them to attend and well into their kid’s (successful) adult life were casting shade on their career choices because of it. This isn’t something that is “wrong with the show” (the entire premise of the listicle), this is something that is a negative personality trait of two characters.

16 THE STARS HOLLOW VORTEX

“Part of the charm of Gilmore Girls was the idyllic town of Stars Hollow. It was adorably and sometimes painfully charming, but at the end of the day provided a dreamy backdrop for the real-life difficulties Lorelai and Rory faced regularly.

The show made it seem as though no one in Stars Hollow had any ambition to do anything else but to live out their lives in Stars Hollow.

Neither Lane nor Dean go to college and both settle there, and none of the adults have lives that take them out of Stars Hollow. It’s completely self-contained and kind of weird.”

This is making so many assumptions about characters whose backstories were never developed. Did Gypsy live in SH all her life? Did Sookie and Jackson? Did the town troubadour? For all we really know, Taylor backpacked through Europe and served in the Marines before he turned into Taylor...

Lane toured with her band, which was her goal from the second she fell in love with that drumset. Who knows what else she would have done if she hadn’t gotten pregnant? (blame the babies, not the town!) Dean got married and then divorced. He talked enough about college that I feel he probably would have gone if he hadn’t decided to get married too young.  

Patty was on Broadway. Michel is from France. At what age did Mrs Kim move to Stars Hollow, even? the other characters were not the focus and so we never learned about their ambitions or their past. This entry gives me a vibe of coming from someone who just cant understand why life in a small town would be so appealing to so many different people. I cannot shake my assumption that OP is younger than i am by a decade or so.

15.LORELAI IS ACTUALLY REALLY UNGRATEFUL TO HER PARENTS

“Lorelai had a point about not wanting to live in her parents 'world, especially given how insistent they were that she do so while she was young. But once she struck out on her own and they had no choice but to accept that, she should’ve softened a little toward them.

Any help they offered she resented, to the point of hurting Emily’s feelings on a regular basis. Richard had to point out to Lorelai how devastated Emily was when her only daughter ran away because Lorelai had never thought to ask. It’s just too much.”

She should have softened to the people we were just saying were way too judgemental of her for Rory’s entire childhood? Accepted their help that always came with strings? And where would young Lorelai learn that emotionally mature tactic? From said emotionally stunted parents? She is Emily’s daughter as much as she doesn’t want to admit she is anything like her mother. The example she was given as she grew up was that if someone displeases you, you freeze them out. Hell, Lorelai even does that to her own daughter when Rory drops out of Yale.

Parents or not, Lorelai making nice to people who have berated her probably her entire life (if we judge by the flashback of Lorelai’s coming-out dress fitting), and definitely since she got pregnant is unreasonable to expect. They have criticized every choice she made up until midway through the series. Why does she owe them gratitude for anything except “thanks for feeding and clothing me till i started doing it myself literally as young as i legally could?

Also throwback to my talk about pride: Lorelai learned pride from her parents. She is less officious about it by far, but she still has the Gilmore pride. Plus she was a literal child herself the first couple years of Rory’s life. There were things she just couldn’t understand (like Emily’s devastation) until she experienced parenting a teen herself.

10.RORY'S ANTI-DIGITAL ATTITUDE

“Let's discuss Rory’s performance at her job interview with SandeeSays, the Buzzfeed-type company she considers a job far beneath her.

She shows up completely unprepared, she has no pitches to offer, and she generally comes across as completely entitled.

Her interviewer at SandeeSays was totally courteous, and Rory was totally shortsighted to act as though she was too good for a job there. That job has benefits, Rory Gilmore! Just who do you think you are and when did you start exemplifying entitled rich people stereotypes?”

Who does Rory think she is? The person who already got the job. Rory very clearly thought she had been offered the position, not offered the chance to interview for the position. Whether she thought that because of a misunderstanding, because of an unconsious sense of privilege, or because SandeeSays doesnt have a hiring manager to run these things smoothly, we don’t know… i’d guess a combination of all three. But SandeeSays repeatedly contacted her and asked her to come to them even when she kinda blew them off about it. That is just not normal for people to do for someone they just want to interview. But Rory though she was showing up for her first day on the job, not a job interview. We know Rory, she would have been over-prepared. She never would have worn that dress, she would have wore her Conde Nast dress. But she arrives and is asked to jump through a bunch of hoops for a job she didnt even want in the first place. They are reasonable hoops for a job interview like that. I would think someone showing up for a job interview in journalism without being prepared for that is a fool. But Rory didn’t know it was a job interview!!!

Also her interviewer at SandeeSays was pretentious and smug af, don’t lie.

9,WHY DID PEOPLE TOLERATE TAYLOR?

“Oh, man was Taylor Doose a a pill. He was pushy, selfish, vindictive and weirdly obsessed with his town. We can forgive the last one – everyone has a thing, but the rest of his behavior is rude at best and abusive at worst.

Yes, Stars Hollow is a magical fairyland that allows for everyone within it to live their idiosyncrasies, but Taylor Doose crossed the line.

He demanded whatever he wanted, abused his position by using it to push people around and then had the gall to get all mopey and depressed when Jackson beat him in the town selectman election. Get a job, man.”

Why do people tolerate Taylor? Because he is a white man with political power. (Granted its only a tiny bit of power that applies only locally. Taylor makes it seem like he controls a lot more than he does… or maybe not, since we do find out he owns like half the rental properties in town)

The author of this listicle seems young, like they havent been around. Its pretty realistic for people to put up with a shitty white man throwing his weight around. The only unrealistic part was that brief moment where he was mopey and depressed, but then Taylor did the realistic thing: he belligerently doubled down when he asked for a recall election.

That’s 100% authentic believable Shitty White Man behavior there. If anyone could explain why people tolerate it in real life, we wouldnt have Trump destroying the country rn. Art is just imitating life here.

6.MICHEL WAS NEVER FIRED

“While Sookie was brilliant comic relief, she also did her job fantastically well. Michel was great comic relief, but also literally the worst person to work customer service in the hospitality industry.

We almost never saw him do his job well.

In fact, we saw him shirk his duties so often it stopped being charming and started becoming ridiculous. There’s a way to write someone who hates working customer service but is actually good at customer service and make it funny. Michel just stopped making sense after a while. We still love him, though.”

Author of listicle has clearly never had a shitty boss that was terrible at their job and also a jerk. These people dont get fired nearly as often as they probably should.

the actual way this is super unrealistic is the fact that Michel didnt get fired despite being a black, gay, foreign man. If he was a white American dude, i wouldnt question it at all. (It would be more realistic for Sookie to get fired because despite being an amazing chef, she clearly hemorrhages money in the kitchen, scrapping entire menus when the perfectly edible vegetables aren’t perfect enough for her.)

And its not true we never see Michel do his job well. He did a great job as concierge in that scene when Lorelai and Sookie go to visit him at the other hotel he is working at while the Dragonfly is being built.

4.RORY COULDN'T HAVE GRADUATED ON TIME FROM YALE

“Rory took nearly a year off from Yale after a major breakdown – sometimes you need to take a break. But realistically, Yale is a demanding school. There is no way Rory could’ve made up all the credits necessary to graduate on time without taking summer classes, while still putting in considerable hours at the Yale Daily News as well as having a boyfriend and a social life.

While it was ultimately very realistic for her to finally crack under some pressure, the fact that she didn’t have to pay for the long break she took speaks to the inherent privilege at work on the show.”

IIRC Rory only missed a semester. (Remember she points it out when they are talking about electing a new head of the Daily News? when they nominate her she says “I did miss that semester so i dont have seniority”)  Which would be difficult to make up, but far from impossible... Rory has experience coming from behind and catching (Chilton). I don’t know exactly how credits work at Yale but in my own university experience, you’re only take a couple classes a semester. Remember Rory being upset that she had to drop a course because 5 classes was more than she could juggle. If she missed a semester of say 3 classes (a reasonable number if one of those courses was a lab or a difficult upper level course), she would only have to add an extra class to on to 3 semesters: her first semester back and then each semester the next year. She mentions taking extra classes (and being stressed by that). Things like independent studies also exist. Some schools give credit for internships (shadowing THE Mitchum Huntzberger would be worth one credit at least for a journalism major). The extra courses and eventually cracking under the pressure WAS Rory paying for the long break.

2.JACKSON LYING ABOUT HIS VASECTOMY

“This was so messed up. Not only did Jackson lie to his wife about something incredibly important, but he didn’t take other precautions to make sure she wouldn’t get pregnant. Sookie didn’t basically got pregnant through no choice of her own the third time and that is not something that is funny at all.

The show made light of it because Sookie and Jackson were never anything but comic relief, but this is a part of the show that absolutely does not hold up in any way shape or form. Shame on you, Jackson.”

I ain’t here to dispute this one but to chime in and agree. Shame on you, Jackson. This show is largely pretty wholesome and tbh i consider this to be one of the worst things one person does to another in the series. Completely devoid of any maliciousness, yes, he 100% did not intend it to happen but it did. Rory can steal a yacht and I’m like “whatever, they got the boat back intact, Rory probably even filled the gas tank later cuz she felt bad for stealing it” But Jackson knocking up a woman who did not want to have that baby because he was too cowardly to get snipped and then too cowardly to admit he didnt do it… is super uncool. (idk what kind of pressure exactly Sookie was putting on him to have the vasectomy. trying to force him into it would also be super uncool. But did Jackson even really try to make Sookie understand how very much he didnt want to do it? Neither party is innocent, but Jackson didn’t have to grow a whole baby so frankly, he gets my scorn)

1RORY ENDING UP BACK AT THE BEGINNING

“Part of what made Gilmore Girls so successful in the first place is that Rory and Lorelai went through very different experiences. That's why it made sense that they would relate on a friendship level as opposed to butting heads like Emily and Lorelai did.

Rory getting pregnant at the end of A Year in the Life kind of undermined a lot of the show.

It also felt really tacked on and contrived. Considering there was no second season promised at that point, it was a really strange way to end. It seemed odd to make Rory so driven and career-minded, only to lead her back to same place as her mother.”

Author of listicle is charmingly naive. That’s just life sometimes, kid. Shit happens to screw up our plans and goals. A lot of us end up more like our mothers than we wanted to when we spent out teen years swearing we wouldnt. Given Rory’s lifestyle of living out of boxes stashed at three different houses, jetsetting between Stars Hollow, Hartford, New York and London, being so stressed out that she continually forgets she has a boyfriend… who is surprised the girl missed a pill or two??

Accidents happen. There’s at least 3 major accidental pregnancies in the series that have life-changing consequences for the woman. 4 if we count Lorelai’s teen pregnancy that kicks off the entire premise of the show. I don’t see how it undermines the show when the show has clearly made an minor theme of this. They show that it can happen to anyone in any situation from a brand new bride like Lane who had dreams she wanted to pursue, to a happily married mother of two who wasnt planning a third, to a relationship that is actively in the stage of crumbling (a la Sherry).

Its not contrived. Its realistic. OP just hasn’t experienced enough reality to see that.

[f-societyrpg]

birth certificate .name: Elizabeth ( Liza ) Patricia Robinson. .face-claim: Salem Mitchell. .date-of-birth: January 19, 1996. .age: 21 years old. .zodiac: Capricorn. .birth-place: Baltimore, Maryland. .residence: Washington, D.C. .brief-biography: ✕ Raised in the slums of baltimore, liza's childhood was little more than the status quo for her part of town. she grew up in a single parent home with three siblings, two older and one younger. her mother tried her hardest to support them on her own, but often fell into relationships with drug dealers and deadbeats. ✕ Despite being submerged in a culture of violence, Liza did her best to be better than the ghetto. She focused on her studies and working part-time to provide for her family. But as puberty hit, hormones, peer pressure, and a need for attention brought Liza trouble. She began hanging out with the wrong crowd, which often included older boys. ✕ At the age of 15, Liza became pregnant. Her mother was very supportive, but knowing Liza was not ready for motherhood, they agreed the child would be raised as Liza's sister under her mother's care. ✕ Liza's mother's boyfriend, Marcos, began molesting her soon after learning about the pregnancy. The abuse started as inappropriate flirtation and light touching, but soon became violent. Liza kept the abuse to herself and put on a brave face, but the stress to her body caused her to deliver the baby early in the third trimester. ✕ After giving birth, the abuse worsened. Marcos would bring his friends over while her mother was at work and allow them to have their fun with her. When she could no longer take it, she retaliated, taking a knife to one of Marcos' friends during one of their 'encounters.' ✕ Though the violent act was technicaly self-defense, Liza was still sentenced to 9 months in juvenile detention. After being released, she ran away to Washington, D.C. hoping to escape Marcos for good. ✕ In D.C., Liza got a job as a waitress, but her tips weren't enough to pay the bills. Taking after her mother, she took to sleeping with seedy men in exchange for a place to stay. Using her body and tricks from the street, Liza managed to survive the streets of Washington. However, she never really made enough to return home to her son, and is still turning tricks on the bad side of the D.C. almost 4 years later. psychological evaluation .personality: Liza is a wild-spirited young woman. She is often outspoken, loud, and cheerful, but can be quite vindictive to those who cross her. Her childlike features paired with her charm are invaluable when it comes to earning large tips at her waitressing job and in conning the residents of Washington D.C. out of their pocket change. She follows her own moral code, feeling no guilt over what she has to steal in order to survive. Liza is extremely loyal, and would go as far as taking a bullet for those she cares about. She is compassionate, patient, and kind, but only to those who she deems worth her time. She can be defensive and rude when confronted, but does not hold on to grudges unless warranted. .character-traits: [+] Independent, persuasive, reliable, clever, faithful, kind [-] Dramatic, stubborn, mannerless, petty, insecure. .mbti: ENFJ, the protagonist. .moral-alignment: True neutral. .diagnosis: Anorexia nervosa, generalized anxiety disorder, and posttraumatic stress disorder ( PTSD ). criminal history .criminal-record: Liza’s criminal record includes a number of misdemeanors, including assault, resisting arrest, possession of a controlled substance, unlawful possession of a weapon, and misdemeanor theft. As a minor, she spent several months in a juvenile detention center before running away. .secret-1: Liza's younger "brother" is acutally her son, which explains her dedication to rescuing him from the slums. She plans to raise him as her own once she saves enough money to rescue him from Baltimore. .secret-2: She plead guilty to several charges ( assault, unlawful possession of a weapon, and misdemeanor theft ) on purpose, hoping to be sentenced to a juvenile detention center to escape her sexual abuse. Liza knew that her mother would be able to care for her son, and thus had no intention of returning home after she was released. .secret-3: By giving Cason and Colton Mercer a place to stay with her blind 'auntie' in the ghetto of D.C., Liza is knowingly aiding and abetting fugitives. anonymous interview what about society disappoints you so much? Men. what do you seek? The means to an end: something simple. I want to live without starving. I want my s-... little brother to go to sleep at night feeling full and comfortable. I don't want to look over my shoulder no more. I don't need a white picket fence or nothing, I just need something good.