#title vi

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Esti Heller

When I first met Milagros “Milly” Peña — the president of SUNY (State University of New York) Purchase College — it was in the wake of two incidents involving Jewish safety on campus, both prior to October 7.

In the first incident, a vandalized Israeli flag was adorned with a classic blood libel. In the second, Hillel’s sukkah was intentionally overturned just one day after its construction. 

In response to these incidents, I came prepared to my meeting with a list of ways that President Peña could make Jewish students feel safer on campus, including adopting the IHRA definition of antisemitism and establishing antisemitism training. Overall, Peña was incredibly supportive, and I left that meeting hopeful towards the year ahead.

But after zero follow-up and several requests for updates, it became clear that I had received the first of what would be many empty promises.

Now, after having witnessed the turmoil that was unleashed on our campus last semester and Milly Peña’s capitulation to anti-Israel students’ demands, I’ve come to understand that the only way the Purchase administration will address the rampant Jew hatred on campus is if the Federal government orders them to do so.

That’s why on August 20, 2024, I, together with a student and the StandWithUs Saidoff Legal Department, filed a Title VI complaint with the US Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights.

During the last school year, Jewish students and I faced relentless harassment, threats, and intimidation, repeatedly driving us off of our own campus.

Far too many times, Hillel was forced to redirect funds intended for events to cover hotel rooms and transportation for students frightened to stay in their dorms. Although we consistently reached out to administrators to report incidents, we were largely ignored. 

On February 12, 2024, an unofficial student group by the name of Raise the Consciousness (RTC) began advertising an event in collaboration with Samidoun, an organization known for fundraising for the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine — a US-designated terrorist organization. The group is banned in Germany for hosting explicitly anti-Jewish rallies.

[eretzyisrael]

Source

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Alice Speri at The Guardian:

US universities are bracing for funding cuts and investigations under the incoming administration, as Donald Trump and his advisers have billed them an “enemy” and made them a prime target of their rightwing, anti-woke crusade. While attacks over critical race theory and diversity and inclusion initiatives have long been part of conservative campaigns against higher education, experts say that the nationwide campus protests against Israel’s war in Gaza over the last year, and a push to crack down on them that has often attracted support from Democrats, will probably provide the incoming administration their opening salvo. “There are political actors who have been obsessed with the idea of fundamentally transforming American higher education, and they have jumped into the space made open by accusations of antisemitism,” said Isaac Kamola, a political science professor at Trinity College whose research focuses on conservative efforts to undermine higher education. Trump and his backers have made no secret of their plans, many detailed under Project Esther, a blueprint by the rightwing Heritage Foundation aimed at “dismantling” the US pro-Palestine movement “when a willing Administration occupies the White House”.

Universities will probably be the main battleground. While Trump has repeatedly floated the idea of eliminating the education department altogether, some of his advisers have expressed hope he will use its tools, like the anti-discrimination Title VI process, to eradicate the pro-Palestine movement on US campuses under the guise of fighting antisemitism.

Last month, the Guardian published an exclusive video of a meeting between the House majority leader, Steve Scalise, and the powerful pro-Israel lobby group the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (Aipac), in which Scalise detailed plans to pull billions of dollars of federal funding from some of the most prestigious universities in the country, and to strip them of accreditation to punish them for allowing pro-Palestine protests on their campuses. Kenneth Marcus, a former assistant secretary of education under Trump and an active proponent of the controversial International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) definition of antisemitism, told Jewish Insider last week that he expects the next administration will “take much more seriously the prospect of denying federal funds to colleges and universities that violate the rights of Jewish and other college students”.

[...]

‘A sledgehammer’

Free speech advocates expect the IHRA definition to be “used as a sledgehammer” in the incoming administration’s attacks on pro-Palestine activism, said Sainath, of Palestine Legal. Already, some universities have heeded the definition’s spirit in drafting their own codes. New York University, for instance, earlier this year issued new university policies citing federal guidance and effectively extending equal rights protections to Zionism, a political ideology. In May, the House of Representatives passed the Antisemitism Awareness Act, which codifies Trump’s executive order into federal law. Democratic Senate majority leader Chuck Schumer has pledged to bring it to a vote before the Senate moves under Republican control in January. On Thursday, the American Civil Liberties Union issued an open letter denouncing the IHRA definition as “overbroad” and encouraging Senators to reject it. “Enshrining this definition into regulation would chill the exercise of First Amendment rights and risk undermining the Department of Education’s legitimate and important efforts to combat discrimination,” they wrote.

[...]

A chilling effect

Free speech advocates hope that additional efforts to impose the IHRA definition would also fail in court, but they warn that it is already having an effect. While the federal government has never cut funding to universities over antisemitism claims, Trump’s threats on funding and accreditation have administrators on high alert. “If I’m a general counsel at a university being told by the federal government, ‘Hey, if you don’t get this right, your federal funding is on the line’ … What are you going to choose?” Tyler Coward, lead counsel at the campus free speech group Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (Fire) told the Guardian. “You’re going to choose censorship to save your federal dollars, and that is a really awful position to put our institutions in.” For faculty and students, the prospect of the incoming administration doubling down in its attacks on what it calls antisemitism are cause of growing anxiety.

The Trump Misadministration is planning to launch crackdowns on pro-Palestine activities on US college campuses under the guise of fighting antisemitism.

See Also:

The Guardian: What are Donald Trump’s plans to overhaul US colleges and universities?

Zeteo News: 'Project Esther': The Right-Wing Group Behind Project 2025 Has a Plan to Crack Down on America's Pro-Palestine Movement

RNS: Heritage Foundation's 'Esther' addendum to Project 2025 isn't really about antisemitism

Mother Jones: The Plan to Silence Dissent

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Leigh Ann O’Neill and William E. Trachman

Published: Feb 4, 2024

Seventy years after the Supreme Court struck down racial segregation in education, it’s somehow making a comeback.

This year marks the 70th anniversary of the landmark Supreme Court case of Brown v. Board of Education. For the past 70 years, race discrimination in public schools has been illegal and unconstitutional. In some cases, even the National Guard has been called out to enforce the law.

But in Evanston, Ill., it’s still a pre-Brown world. As reported elsewhere last year, Evanston Township High School offered racially segregated classes such as AP calculus for Hispanic students only, and English classes for only black students. It did that purportedly in the name of shrinking the achievement gap between Caucasian and non-Caucasian students. Yes, it’s hard to believe, but the doctrine of separate-but-equal still lives on, even today.

What was the school district’s defense to such obviously illegal division of students by race? Just that no one is forced to take such classes, so they are optional, and therefore not discriminatory. But that logic doesn’t fly.

First, it’s obvious that Evanston is engaged in brazen racial segregation. If Hispanic students take the math class designed specifically for Hispanic students, that means that non-Hispanic students will generally take math classes without any Hispanic students. The same is true for English classes that are only for black students. So much for diversity and inclusion!

Second, the rationale behind the classes sounds a lot like the arguments made by segregationists of days past, who contended that Jim Crow was actually good for black Americans. As Evanston’s superintendent, Marcus Campbell, stated: The classes give non-white students “a different, more familiar setting to kids who feel really anxious about being in an AP class.” You could be forgiven for mistaking this statement for something that segregationist Arkansas governor Orval Faubus might have said to defend racial separation.

Evanston isn’t just violating the Constitution. In 1964, Congress also passed a statute that deprives schools of federal funds if they discriminate based on race. That statute — called Title VI — gives the Department of Education and its Office for Civil Rights the authority to investigate public schools engaged in race discrimination and to force them to come into compliance with the law, under the threat of losing all federal funding.

Let there be no doubt: The text of Title VI doesn’t distinguish between “mandatory” and “optional” school programs. There is no exception to the bar on race discrimination for schools that merely encourage and facilitate racial segregation. And that’s obviously true. No one thinks that public schools could host “optional” racially segregated proms, homecoming events, back-to-school nights, or sports teams. The classroom is no different.

The Biden administration recently reminded us that a host of school programs can violate Title VI if the school fails to allow all students to participate equally. In guidance published after the Supreme Court struck down Harvard’s affirmative-action program, the Department of Education wrote:

A decision to restrict membership or participation in activities and spaces based on race . . . would raise significant concerns and trigger strict scrutiny under Title VI. In determining whether an opportunity to participate is open to all students, OCR may consider, for example, whether advertisements or other communications would lead a reasonable student, or a parent or guardian, to understand that all students are welcome to participate.

Yet Evanston remains undeterred, apparently. While the district has dropped the word “restricted” from the class descriptions in question, it nevertheless continues to encourage students to segregate themselves. An English II class is now described as one that “will emphasize examples that some individuals in the Black community identify as shared experiences.”

But if you thought that means that Caucasian students are welcome now, you’d be wrong. In an August 2023 interview, Superintendent Campbell explained that “if push came to shove,” and “there’s nothing else that works and that kid is white,” then the district would reluctantly let a Caucasian student enroll in a math class for another racial group. But how do you imagine that lands on the ears of a “reasonable student” who is wondering whether he or she is genuinely welcome to participate?

It’s time for systemic change. The Office for Civil Rights should be launching an investigation into Evanston. But unfortunately, it seems that politics have persuaded the powers that be to look the other way, even when it comes to Evanston’s previous blatant violations of Title VI.

Yet now is the time to course-correct. Anything other than a full investigation into Evanston is a complete abdication of the Department of Education’s legal responsibility to stomp out federal funding going to support racial discrimination. With classrooms once again being literally racially segregated, it’s never been more clear that the Department of Education isn’t doing enough to crack down on race discrimination in K–12 schools.

As Chief Justice Roberts wrote in his opinion striking down affirmative action once and for all, “eliminating race discrimination means eliminating all of it.” And in Evanston, Ill., they have 70 years of progress to start catching up to.

Leigh Ann O’Neill is the managing director of Legal Advocacy at FAIR, the Foundation Against Intolerance and Racism. William E. Trachman is a former deputy assistant secretary in the Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights. He is the general counsel of Mountain States Legal Foundation.

[ Via: https://archive.md/Rm4rV ]

==

Apparently, the lesson that "segregation is bad" didn't sink in the first time.

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. -- George Santayana

[empath-demon]

Good news for American Jews in college - the Department of Education is cracking down on antisemitism in schools.

This was in part influenced by recent events at multiple colleges, including University of Vermont where students threw rocks at the Hillel House where multiple Jewish students lived and a TA was allowed to deduct points from Jewish students’ grades.

See the Dept of Ed’s plan here:

[fightforthesoulofthecities]

A National call to Defend the Black Student Achievement Plan and the Civil and Human Rights of 50,000 Black Students in the Los Angeles Unified School District

A National call to Defend the Black Student Achievement Plan and the Civil and Human Rights of 50,000 Black Students in the Los Angeles Unified School District #BSAP #DefendBSAP #EndWarOnYouth #PoliceFreeSchools

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text] A National call to Defend the Black Student Achievement Plan and the Civil and Human Rights of 50,000 Black Students in the Los Angeles Unified School District Media Contact: Channing Martinez, co-director LSCS and member of BSAP steering committee channing (AT) thestrategycenter (DOT) org Akunna Uka, LSCS director of volunteer programs and member of BSAP…

[hazelcallahan]

[sweaterkittensahoy]

If you're wondering what sort of standing students might have, here's an article about three DEANS at Columbia who are on indefinite leave with plans to remove them from their positions because they were texting antisemitic shit during a 'Jewish Life on Campus' talk that was bringing to light all the antisemitism on campus.

Texts included one of the deans complaining that having to sit and listen to Jewish students discuss antisemitism on campus as "comes from such a place of privilege… hard to hear the woe is me."

And that was one of the lesser things said.

jewish college students in the US need to start reporting title VI violations pass it on

[jinxarchive]

Yeah,,, I'm not ready

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Jonathan S. Tobin

But the agreement between the Department of Education and CUNY that was published last week did none of those things. While the government verified the claims of those Jewish individuals who had complained of discriminatory conduct, its response to the now-documented instances in which the school had allowed these violations to occur and took no steps to defend its Jewish students was minimal. In what can barely be described as even a slap on the wrist, CUNY was left off with warnings and orders to conduct more investigations and report further developments to Washington; provide more employee and campus security officer training; and issue a “climate survey” to students.

The administration of CUNY or any of the many other schools under investigation because of complaints brought against them for antisemitism could be forgiven for responding to this ruling with laughter.

It should be remembered that the Department of Education has enormous leverage over virtually every American college and university since all but a few of them rely on federal funds for their existence. Some of the richest of universities with enormous endowments—Columbia’s is valued at an impressive $13.6 billion, Penn’s a healthy $21 billion, MIT’s $23 billion and Harvard’s is worth a staggering $50.7 billion—might survive without the steady flow of money from Washington to sustain themselves. But most could not.

Yet in the 60 years since Congress passed the Civil Rights Act, no school has ever faced the most severe punishment for violating the law by permitting forms of discrimination on the basis of race, color or national origin. That’s largely because the revolution in civil rights that occurred in the 1960s convinced American colleges and universities to take the law seriously. If any federally funded institution was shown to have tolerated racism against African Americans, Hispanics or Asians in the manner that CUNY did with Jews, there’s no doubt that the Education Department would come down on them like a ton of bricks with the most severe penalties.

Yet the OCR has treated the CUNY case with the sort of light treatment that sends the exact opposite message than the one many in the Jewish community wanted, including those groups and public-interest groups dedicated to bringing such cases to the attention of the government.

To make it even worse, the secretary of education accompanied the announcement of the settlement with CUNY, as well as a similar one with the University of Michigan, with the sort of self-congratulatory statement that indicated he was convinced that all that was required of his department was an acknowledgment of the problem without having to do anything serious about it.

“The Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights continues to hold schools accountable for compliance with civil rights standards, including by investigating allegations of discrimination or harassment based on shared Jewish ancestry and shared Palestinian or Muslim ancestry,” said Miguel Cardona.

That he combined this investigation with one about the largely non-existent problem of Islamophobia added insult to injury for the Jewish community, as well as indicated that even when pressed to do something about the dangerous surge in antisemitism, the Biden administration has been more concerned about sending a signal to Muslim-Americans and left-wing Democrats behind the Jew-hatred that their interests are equally as important. Indeed, as Rabbi Asher Lopatin, director of community relations at the Jewish Federation of Greater Ann Arbor, told JNS, combining the two claims is an “‘All Lives Matter’ thing. This is a time to say Jewish lives matter.”

[eretzyisrael]

by Dion J. Pierre

Ackerman brought the issue before the Rutgers Student Bar Association (SBA), a student government body of which Ackerman was a member. However, he was accused of racism and subjected on Oct. 26 to what the lawsuit describes as a three-hour “struggle session” in which his SBA law school colleagues pelted him with insults.

“During this meeting, several students whom Mr. Ackerman had never interacted with before testified against him,” said the complaint, filed in the Superior Court of New Jersey in Essex County. “For example, law student JM, targeted, discriminated, bullied, harassed, and retaliated against Mr. Ackerman. She falsely accused Mr. Ackerman of threatening to dox her and other students — without any evidence. JM moved to impeach Ackerman from the SBA, and to intimidate Mr. Ackerman and other Jewish students.”

“The Rutgers SBA and JM were seeking to chill the speech of Ackerman — as a Jewish person,” the complaint continues. “The content and tone of the SBA hearing were designed or allowed to air antisemitic bias with the intent of discriminating, threatening, harassing, and bullying Jewish law students, including Mr. Ackerman.”

The complaint summarizes in detail Ackerman’s attempts to file formal complaints about the video and the treatment he received, focusing on the conduct of Katherine Perez, an assistant dean in the law school whom the suit names as a defendant. It charges that Perez never watched the video about which Ackerman complained and, in retaliation, charged him with defamation and disorderly conduct. Later, Perez told Ackerman that a complaint he had filed lacked merit and would not be investigated.

Ackerman’s attorneys said in a press release that he will on Thursday attend a final disciplinary hearing that will determine whether he is expelled from school.

“In sum, Rutgers plans to hold this ‘kangaroo court’ in which they refuse to permit Ackerman to be represented by counsel (who cannot speak or otherwise advocate on Mr. Ackerman’s behalf), and have failed to advise him of the witnesses who will testify against him, and which ostensibly will be presided over by the very person who initiated and brought the charges, against him,” the suit says.

The Algemeiner has reached out to Rutgers to confirm the details concerning the hearing on Thursday.

Ackerman additionally alleges the ordeal he experienced has caused medical complications, and he is seeking compensatory and punitive damages.

“It is time to speak out,” Ackerman said on Tuesday during a press conference. “Just five days after the largest attack and attempt at genocide against the Jewish people since the Holocaust, one of my peers shared a video that was highly offensive and in my opinion antisemitic … What has resulted since is nothing more than an attempt by Rutgers and other students to silence my right to speak out against antisemitism. I will not be silent in the face of hatred towards Jews.

[the-dragon-hearted]

Part 3:

There is a universe, somehow, where Silco saves Vi.

It's... actually not all that uncommon, despite the circumstances.

It's a known fact they dislike each other: Vi's too much like Vander and she takes pride in that. It leaves a bitter taste in Silco's mouth. They fight, often. Well, Vi fights. Silco listens quietly and tears her little arguments apart like wings from a butterfly. She curses his name and trashes his office every time one of his endeavors gets people killed. It happens more often than not - the price of freedom is always paid in blood.

But, everytime he sits and watches. Calmly. When necissary, he can chase her out with a few words. Usually, it's a reminder of her temper, her age, or Vander. The latter is sometimes the only thing that can kill her fury.

She's not Vander; it seems he's the only one willing to make her remember that. She hates him for it. For the death and the suffering and the fact that neither of them can fill the cast iron gloves hanging above the bar. Not really.

But, when the chips are down and the guns are aimed, when she's collapsed in an alleyway from a broken rib, when it feels like it's just her with the Last Drop to her back... Silco's there. He'd do many things, but he'd never abandon her.

So he drags her home and leaves Mylo to patch her up. He bails them out of idiotic schemes. He hides enforcer bodies in the river (he never minds doing that). He pays someone off or makes someone disappear.

She still hates him, probably.

He... can't return the sentiment. She's irritating, in all those familiar ways Vander was, but it's different. He'd looked up to Vander, once. Much like Powder does to Vi - much like they all look up to Vi. But, she is not her Father. She is a child trying to fill shoes too big for her. From such a perspective, her irritating qualities are more... palatable.

She bartends, clenching her jaw and playing diplomat with the remnants of Vander's faction. She's a child, and the underworld knows it. Her hands are clumsier as they clean the glasses, unsure of how to be gentle when the rage burns.

The first time she asks Silco for anything is after she breaks the last of Vander's shot glasses. It's one of the only times her eyes mist in his presence. Nice glass is hard to come by in the undercity, and her going to the surface was out of the question... not after last time.

Silco has Sevika deliver the shipment and neither of them mention it again.

She's Vander's child. They all are. A step too far and the four (five, though Ekko's much better at staying out of trouble than his irritating late-guardian) gain a new title. Silco does not consider himself an emotional man, not anymore. But the first time an opposing crime lord tried to get to him through the children - Mylo, specifically - he finds himself... inspired.

Sevika finds Mylo in their enemy's basement. It's Silco who takes him home, a hand on the boy's trembling shoulder. They walk, tall - at least Silco does, something odd raging in his gut like a tidal wave.

It's a statement for him to walk Mylo home and he knows it. They're stared at - it's probably the first time he's ever done anything visible like this with any of Vander's kids. He doesn't regret it. Mylo doesn't either.

They root out the rot and leave a new scar in Zaun, Sevika is efficient and brutal when the time demands it. She aligns with Silco in that manner. He's never liked these inter-faction fights, but sometimes messages must be sent. Messages signed eloquently in blood are more memorable, and it must be memorable. Zaun's streets are too used to violence - if you want to send a message you must be... purposeful.

Mess with Vander's children and you will be meeting Zaun's ghosts.

It's the first collection of murders Vi doesn't condemn him for. Mylo's behind the bar with her, ranting about shitty air ventilation, nervous hands calming themselves as they dust glasses. Vi's quiet as Silco sits, not a word spared. She pours him a shot in a cleanly cut shot glass and it almost tastes sweeter.

They are Silco's wards. Vander's children, but under Silco's gaze. He doesn't want it to go any further, and the city would do well not to test it. Piltover too.

The marshall learns quickly enough that the streets play by new rules now. The Lanes are the safest place in Zaun for its children - they're nothing but a death sentence for enforcers.

Vi's... useful, in that regard. The only thing she seems to hate more than Silco is the people who got to Vander before he did. Another rare thing they both agree on.

So, yes, Silco has saved her before. This is different. It's not a glorious or proud moment... it's... necessary, as all things are in his life.

It starts when he slips by the Last Drop - he tries to do it fairly regularly. Not for the children, but for the statement. He's welcome here now. The streets know it. He haunts his old life, a stronger, fiercer phantom than any of his old demons.

It's pride, and he knows it. He strides in and smiles through the glares, Vi's included. She still pours him a glass no matter what fight they're having. She loves Powder too much to chase him away. That power is the halfway point between intoxication and sobriety, just as the shot of Vander's whiskey is.

He's late for his visit this time. Very late. More likely than not Vi's gone to bed and won't be up until late noon. He'll pour himself a drink then. There are no regulars to grumble at his arrival, just a drunk passed out in the alleyway next to the bar. Vi is still learning the art of cutting people off - sometimes he thinks she keeps the nastier ones drinking to teach them a lesson. Drags them home so they owe her a favor - so they remember they were at her mercy, once.

She's like Vander, but she's not all Vander.

Or maybe she is... Silco's throat is tight and his eye is beginning to throb from the long day. He reaches the door and stops.

It's left open.

Paranoia is an old friend. It keeps two knives on him, always in arm's reach. Danger is the best friend of Zaun's children, and it's taught him well.

Vi does not keep the door open. It lets a draft in, and the stench of the streets. She's particular about such things.

Silco pushes the door open and takes a long breath. It's a familiar sight, not to the bar, but to Silco: there was a scuffle, of some sort. There's blood on the bartop and a broken bottle on the floor. Stools are tossed aside, and the jukebox is donning a new crack - it was a long fight, then. It seems the dancers danced their vicious waltz all through the bar.

Silco steps into the bar, still lit, but empty. There's... something climbing up his throat as his mind churns out the most likely probabilities. It tastes like river water.

Vi was a fighter, like her Father. The streets knew it. They called her the 'little hound'. Silco never corrected them.

He crouches down to study a skid mark on the floor, right next to a small pool of blood. Someone had gotten punched, hard. Silco moves faster, passing the ghost of a bar and delving into its hold - the heart of this haven Vander built.

The door to the children's rooms is locked. That means one of two things. Either there's a nasty sight beyond for Silco to find, or Vi did what she did best.

He knocks: a rhythmic game that he knows one of the five will get. It's one of Powder's many games, tapping on his office door before barging in. Or his closet. Or his desk. Wherever her new hiding spot was. She and Ekko found some sort of amusement in startling him. Silco may loathe to admit it, but the pattern made their impromptu visits nicer. The anxiety leaves when the assassin in the belfry turns out to be the two youngest giggling at their endeavors.

Silco uses Powder's knock. He's met with silence.

There's a churning in his gut because he knows.

He's made enemies. Vander's children are still Vander's children - and the Hound's death doesn't satiate old blood feuds. And... he's not as clandestine in his affections as he wants to be.

Sevika tells him that much.

So does this. If those kids are dead, if Silco kicks this door down and finds bodies, he's going to make someone burn. He's going to carve this little haven apart in a baptism of blood.

A perfectly reasonable reaction. Justified, even. Not even Vander would disagree. It doesn't settle the crashing wave of something other than anger that's ripping him apart at the thought.

There's a scrambling on the other side and Silco releases a long breath he forgot he was holding.

There's a familiar hiss: "Powder - Powder no -"

Claggor's alive at least... and so is -

Powder opens the door, taking a large gasp as she runs to Silco and grabs him in a hug. It's not her usual. She'll poke at him or snatch something out of his pockets, but she's never been much of a hugger.

Silco isn't either.

He lets her stay, for now and places a hand on her head. She's warm... breathing and warm. He uses his other hand to push the door further. It reveals a more desperate scene. Claggor's holding a bloodied rag to his head. Mylo's nursing a broken nose from where he lays on the couch.

So it wasn't a long scuffle - it was multiple fights.

"What happened?" Silco only ever demands. Something Mylo hates - can't ask nicely, can you?

"Was one of those gangs Vi chased out a few weeks back," Claggor's the voice of reason and honesty. Now he's donning a black eye and bruised knuckles. He has Vander's build, but lacks a stomach for fighting. He can do it - and do it well, but not like Vi...

Damn girl. She's missing from their usual nest. Ekko too, but that's at least usual.

"Where is Vi?" Silco keeps his voice level, or he thinks he does. Powder pulls away and wipes her eyes, a familiar guilt dancing over her unblemished face.

"She went after them," Mylo answers, nasally, as he holds his head back. The nose is likely broken... again. "Told us to hold up here till she got back."

"Alone?" Silco's not surprised but he is... angry.

Not at Vi. She's an idiot, always has been. Like someone else he knew. She's doing what she'll always do.

Powder's near inconsolable, as she usually is when it comes to such things: "She told us to stay - I didn't want to but she made us promise and - and we couldn't find Ekko so we don't know where he went. I - I wanted to get you -"

"It's alright, how long ago did this happen?" Silco crouches down to meet Powder's gaze.

"I dunno, ten minutes," Mylo answers. "You just missed it -"

"Which gang?" Silco's impatience is eating at him.

No one has an answer.

"Stay here," he orders in the face of silence. "Wait for me."

"You're gonna get her, right?" Powder pleads. "I can help!"

It's always about helping, with her. Always about being useful and loved. It's painfully easy to manipulate.

"Protect your brothers," Silco instructs carefully, softly. He looks around the room and eyes familiar explosive devices at her bedside. "If they come back to finish the job, use your tools. Make them regret what they've done."

"We don't need her-" Mylo begins to object before Claggor slaps his shoulder.

Powder doesn't fully buy the lie, but it's enough. She bites her lip and nods. Silco spares her a warmer glance before he departs. The door closes behind him and it seems Claggor and Mylo immediately begin to argue: Typical.

Silco's a bit too busy seething to do much else. He gives the bar another survey, trying to decipher what Vander's little prodigy got herself into.

It could be a little collection of street menaces. Faux-tough folks who like to poke and prod at any establishment they can, except of course the actual bastards of Piltover. Silco hated such short-sightedness. That energy would be better aimed at those gold-plated brutes that police the streets they spit on.

There's no chance of beating Piltover if the streets are too busy going at each other's throats. Vi had kicked out a few folks, and broken a few teeth, but retaliation had always been out of the question. She'd been spared from the worst of Zaun's cannibalistic tendencies her whole life.

Though she may hate it, Vi was the closest Zaun would ever get to royalty. The daughter of Vander, protected by Silco's knife edge. So either these bastards were stupid or they knew exactly what they were doing.

And if they were the latter, there was a large chance Vi wasn't just gone. That's the cost of sending messages.

You get sent messages too...

"Thought I might find you here," a voice breaks through his concentration as he finds a few discarded coins by a table. It's Sevika. He doesn't even bother looking over his shoulder, as he pockets the change.

"Never a dull moment," Silco curses, standing. "Vi's run off."

"I know," Sevika mutters with a familiar exasperation. "I tried to stop her."

"You saw her!?"

"Yeah, caught her chasing down some thugs. She had a few scores to settle." Sevika is far too casual about it as she saunters over to the bar and pours herself a drink.

"And if it was a trap?" Silco's' challenge sounds a bit more paranoid out loud than it did in his head.

"I recognized the poor bastards, they're stupid - harmless in the long run," Sevika shrugs. "They take folks by surprise. Though they're in for a nasty one now."

Silco sighs, heavily, pinching his nose as a headache tries to wrestle into his priorities: "Where did she go?"

"Up towards the fishmonger's, at the pace she was at, she's probably caught up by now. She'll be back. They won't."

Silco doesn't say anything to that. He can't. So he leaves.

"Keep watch," he orders as he goes, because orders are simple, kinder things.

The streets are dark and damp, as always, but they're colder now. It's a bad idea to walk alone - especially given who he is. But... these were Vander's streets and they are his now. Strangely enough, despite the animosity there, the old resistance keeps a watchful eye out on his back. He doesn't trust it, but he does understand it.

You take care of those kids now, or so the old Yordle from the brothel had ordered. Do that, and I won't mind you.

He still walks quickly and grapples with old ghosts. Vi's growing into something - something Vander would be keen on stopping. Something Vander had always been afraid of becoming.

It's a stupid thing, really. Silco's breathing in Zaun's poisoned air and lamenting on all the things that dead fool may have been right about.

Vi's useful as a little hound, but Silco's never gotten good at leashing her. Vander never managed it either. All of those kids were annoyingly stubborn and brilliant and mold them as Silco may, some things don't change. Not the river water of Zaun or the blood on the bridge.

For the first time, Silco considers that maybe he's not the only one who drowned on these streets. It's no coincidence the thought comes as he passes the corner Vander died on.

He pushes it aside, quickly. He has something more important to deal with.

He finds her stumbling back. She is a mess. Broken nose, a black eye, and her knuckles are covered in blood. She is covered in blood. She limps along, guarding her side, pausing only when she sees him.

"Oh fuck me," she scorns and Silco has to chuckle at that.

"Hello Violet," he greets with a sarcastic glance. "You look well."

"Fuck off, Silco. What are you doing here?" half of the anger in her voice is from pain. The other half is her earnest loathing of him.

He can answer her honestly, though: "Looking for you."

"Well, you found me." She presses onward, passing him with a glare. He's content to follow.

They walk in silence for a while, Vi spitting out a glob of blood after a minute and cursing a colorful array for her wounds.

"Did you find them?" Silco inquires, once it's clear she intends to ignore him the entire time.

"Course," she spits.

"And, you walked away."

"I won. They're not coming back."

"Good," Silco supposes. The praise doesn't end kindly on her shoulders, but it's earnest.

"If you're gonna lecture me on how stupid going off alone was -"

"I have no such intention."

"I didn't kill them, either."

"I wouldn't care much if you did. It could complicate matters, but it's manageable."

Vi sneers at that and presses onward.

"Call for a doctor, when you get back," Silco orders, gently as he can.

She glares at him - a clear refusal. It's not a bad idea, and she knows it, but because Silco said it, her little spiteful side would rather bleed out on the street.

That's... not Vander. It may be Felicia in her...

"Were you stabbed?" Silco suddenly catches a glimpse at the side she's guarding.

"No."

"The blood isn't yours?"

"Can you just fuck off?"

"Violet. Have you been stabbed?"

She whirls around, probably to hiss another insult at him, but she stumbles instead. Embarrassingly enough for both of them, Silco moves to catch her. She grabs a light post instead and heaves out a heavier breath.

Silco watches, rolling his eyes at the theatrics.

"It would kill you to direct your stubbornness somewhere beneficial, wouldn't it?" He jabs, in a whisper.

"I didn't fucking ask for your help!" She snaps back, pulling herself back up and pressing a bloodied hand firmer into her side.

"No. You didn't," Silco mutters, and he's quick to snatch her wrist, stained by her own crimson. He isn't as strong as he once was, but with surprise on his side, he can yank her hand away long enough to see the wound beneath it.

Oh, look at that. She has been stabbed. Who would've guessed?

She rips out of his hold and he lets her. It was a more performative act anyway - she'll glare at him either way. She leans away from him with a snarl of: "Fucking bastard." Like a cornered dog.

Little hound indeed.

"Sit down," he orders.

"No -"

"Violet. Sit. Down."

It doesn't usually work on her. The tone was more useful with Claggor - but she's bleeding out. Seems that some of the stubbornness is going with it.

She sags to the cobblestone with a grimace as she guards her side, hissing through clenched teeth as she lands heavily. Silco crouches down in front of her, pulling out familiar tools from a small pouch he always keeps handy.

Again, paranoia and preparation were identical twins, you could only tell them apart in practice. He was well-versed in both.

"Oh, fuck this: Get your damn doctor," Vi spat as she spied the small vial of astringent.

And Silco hums to match her scathing tone: "I would. But you've decided to give us a time crunch."

"I - "

"Move your hand."

"No!"

"Violet, I am not going to tell your siblings that you bled out in front of me."

It was the only way to get her to do anything. A familiar arm to twist when it was necessary. She knew it too, which is why her glare burned darker, but she obeyed, even lifting up her shirt a few precious inches to show him the gore beneath. That was enough.

The streets of Zaun were familiar with questionable medical practices, and Silco was familiar with impromptu triage. They'd need better stitches and a thorough cleaning once he was done, but it would stop her from bleeding, for now.

She hissed when he poured the cleaner over it.

"Fucker -"

"You're welcome," he interrupts curtly. "And you're lucky."

She says nothing as she clenches her teeth and covers her eyes, breaths coming fast and heavy.

"If this had gone any deeper, or moved any higher, we'd be in a different predicament," Silco continues.

"Well it'd fix one of your problems," Vi spat between heavy breaths as Silco threaded the needle.

He chuckled at that one: "Perhaps."

Vi bites her already bloodied knuckles to keep from screaming as Silco begins his work. Painkillers would've been a useful thing to keep handy, but Silco prepares for needs, not comforts.

This may... change that.

The closeness is one of necessity, and it's obviously no comfort to the girl, so Silco works quickly. It's messy, but again, he intends to get an actual doctor as soon as the bleeding is stemmed. You can't exactly apply a tourniquet to a torso. And you shouldn't make a habit of stitching up your enemies.

Not that Vi was an enemy... not to him, at least.

"Of course, if you did die," he finds himself musing: "I dare say Claggor will end up breaking even more glasses than you did."

She doesn't respond but there is a breath - quick... it may even be a laugh.

"Unless Mylo takes over bartending. In which case I should hike up our liquor order. Something tells me he'll get too eager to test the merchandise."

"Oh fuck off." There she is.

"We'll have to wait until Powder grows a bit taller - if she doesn't kill me first for letting you die."

He cuts off the thin wire now holding the wound together. It snaps quickly and he ties it - tight. Vi's hand suddenly clamps onto his arm and he's thrusted back years by the force in that grip. He tries to hide it and likely does seeing how out of it the girl is. She's leaning forward, breathing heavily. His breaths, in conjecture: feather-light. Too quick.

"She - she wouldn't," the girl manages.

It's Silco who can't respond this time, staring at the white-knuckled grip on his arm. Well, they would be white knuckles if said knuckles were split and covered in grime. Familiar... too familiar.

Vi continues though, the pain spilling from her eyes despite the chuckle in her throat: "She likes you too much - looks up to you."

"A questionable choice," Silco finally forces out of his dry throat, carefully dissecting Vi's grip from his wrist.

"Yeah," she spits, leaning further forward, at least until Silco catches her shoulder.

"You'll split the stitching. You still need a doctor."

"Fuck."

Understandable. Silco helps her stand and, as if to scream how much she's truly out of it, she doesn't protest in the slightest. They make their way through the streets, slowly. The Last Drop is the closest safe spot, though the faster they find a doctor the better.

They get halfway there when Vi starts breathing just a little too heavy for his taste. She's shaking and when she starts leaning on him he caves in. They stop and he pushes her to a wall.

Another order: "Catch your breath."

She obeys. That's a problem. They're running out of time. He can't leave her here but he can't wait either.

Choices, choices, choices.

"I shouldn't have gone alone," Vi recites hatefully as she slides down to the brick wall, wrapping both arms around her stomach. "I know, it was fucking stupid."

"Well, at least you recognize it," Silco scathes, holding the bridge of his nose again as the ache behind his eye worsens. Brilliant. Who does he know around here? Anyone trustworthy?

"They needed to get the shit kicked out them," she rues, weakly.

"And did you get stabbed before or after you exacted your justice?"

"After. Fucker pulled a knife once it was a one-on-one."

"Predictable," Silco scolds. She glares, good - at least something familiar is still there.

"Maybe for you."

"Don't pretend Mylo doesn't play dirty. You know to expect it." Silco hardly notices he's begun to pace. There's blood dripping on the cobblestone. They need to move. Vi's breaths are still heavy.

The streets smell like river water.

"I broke his face."

And that, Silco can laugh at: "I don't doubt it. Now get up. We need to go."

She closes her eyes at the order - a bit too long for his taste. He couches down and grabs her shoulder. "Violet."

"I'm moving," she grumbles, taking his hand and weakly standing once more. Immediately, she collapses and Silco barely catches her, lowering her to the floor gently as he can as it all trickles out of him in hollow realization.

He sits her up against the wall and, heavily, takes a seat next to her. He can't carry her back. He's not that strong - maybe never was. And she's bigger now. He needs to go - get someone who can help.

He can not leave her. Not like this. Not like this.

He's lied millions of times, he'll lie a million times more before his life is through, but he made a promise, to a dead man, but a promise nonetheless. He could not leave her to die another one of Zaun's orphans. Her last cradle in the cobblestones. He would not leave her to die alone.

"Fuck." It's weaker now, wet. She's crying.

He can't stomach it.

"We need to move," he tries to find a sternness to press onward. It ends up sounding desperate. His hand is over hers, applying pressure she doesn't have the strength to.

"I shouldn't have gone alone," she repeats. The anger's gone... it's fermented into regret.

"You should have called me," he hates the rage that is slipping through his teeth like the blood between his fingers. "I would've handled this."

"They kicked Claggor," she breaths - like that's some sort of defense.

"You are dying."

There it is: in the air. No taking it back now. He knows it. She knows it. Zaun knows it.

"You are dying because of your own idiocy," he seethes regardless.

"Keep Powder away from your fucking war," is her answer. "Mylo and Claggor... keep them away -"

No. No he will not -

"You want to keep them away? Do it yourself," he hisses as he pulls her up again. This time he has one hand under her shoulders and the other pressed against her side. "Move."

"Silco -"

Not fucker. Or bastard. Or the many other colorful names she's deemed him worthy of.

"Move." That's his answer. It's his answer for the next few blocks, then there's a stirring from one of the rooftops and Silco almost breathes in relief to hear a familiar rhythm of taps, asking if the coast is clear.

Vi notices nothing, she's limp, and in a moment of weakness he presses harder inciting a gasp. She's still alive and she'll fucking stay that way.

"EKKO!" He calls and the boy is there, peeking over a roof's ledge. His eyes are wide and Silco doesn't help to soothe the fear there. "Get a doctor! Now!"

"Who?" the boy cries back, eyes locked on Vi.

"Anyone! Closest one you can find." Silco's done with plans currently. No one will try anything stupid with Sevika staring over their shoulder. Time's not on their side. On Violet's side.

Ekko's smart enough to not get himself kidnapped - probably. Tonight's just been full of all sorts of lovely surprises.

They press onwards. The streets are dead this early in the morning. It's nearly time for the early risers to stir. What fools do creep the streets vanish at the sight of Silco.

Vi's a heavy weight on his side, her feet dragging more and more with every moment.

"I seem to recall one of Vander's teachings warning against this exact situation," he mutters.

The sound of her late Father stirs her just a bit - it's all he needs. Her eyes flicker over and he drags her onward.

"Something about being careful about the fights you pick - and the causes you die for," he scorns.

A familiar warning. One he'd almost died for. The hands around his neck are heavy, but still lighter than Vi's weight on his side.

She doesn't answer.

"How did it go?" Silco breathed rhetorically. "Every time you raise your fist, make sure you're ready to die for it?"

"Make sure... you're ready... for someone to die for it," Vi breathes and it's not relief, but it's something similar that fills Silco's flooded lungs.

"Ah, of course. He was always so worried about collateral," Silco feigns ignorance. "And murder."

"Yeah," Vi barks a weak laugh. "You... wouldn't... know..."

"I wouldn't," Silco agrees. "Everyone has something they'd die for. I happen to think certain causes are worth killing for."

Vi goes silent so Silco clears his throat: "Not this though."

She does huff at that.

"It will be embarrassing if you die from this," Silco mutters.

No answer. He begins to calculate the next way phrase that could stir her up when she breathes a weak laugh.

"He wouldn't have died from this."

It doesn't take a genius to guess who she's talking about.

"Neither will you," Silco states.

"He... wouldn't have been stupid."

Silco does roll his eyes at that: "He absolutely would have been."

"Should've... seen it... coming."

"Yes. But you'll learn. We all do."

"I was... angry."

"I know." Silco breathes. Because he does. He knows it better than anyone else. Better than Vander would've.

Like a blessing from Janna, there's a golden light spilling from down the street, and they turn towards the Last Drop. They aren't a step towards it before Sevika is at the door, throwing it open and running towards them.

"The trick about anger, Violet -" Silco breathes as they slow. He looks at her and finds a determination in those eyes - "It's all in knowing how to use it. That rage will either kill you... or keep you alive. It's time you decide how you'll use it."

Sevika is there and she picks Vi up like she weighs nothing. The doctor arrives a few minutes later, Ekko on his heels. Some kinder neighbor who lacks prowess but is willing to do it for free - to repay an old favor to Vander.

Good enough.

Powder's crying next to him. Mylo and Claggor fret the whole time. Ekko takes his place next to Powder and watches with a mixture of grief and horror. Sevika is strangely quiet.

But Vi? She refuses to fade. Refuses to pass out. She grips the chair beneath her and grinds her teeth on a twisted rag from Sevika as the doctor works. Her nails carve into the wood until splinters bloody her cuticles - and sometimes, she looks to Silco.

He doesn't know what she sees there, doesn't know what she's looking for. He just knows she's going to survive.

She knows it too.

She's not Vander, never was. It's not a bad thing.

But it changes everything.

[lttllovely]

MOONLIGHT ON THE RIVER | Ethan Landry x Freeman!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You are Amber Freeman’s sibling and a fellow survivor of the 2022 Woodsboro Massacre. Coming to New York, you isolated yourself from everyone, only talking to your close friends. You were shunned and made out to be a serial killer by most in New York, them thinking that you were cut from the same cloth as your sister. But not Ethan. Never Ethan.

Genre: Fluff with some angst. Ethan has a heart, surprisingly. A cold one, at the end of Scream VI, but yeah.

Notes: It's referenced once that the reader is wearing a dress with their Angel costume, but no other gendered terms/clothing are referenced in this. Might write a sequel(s) to this if I feel like it/if demand is high enough. So, if you want this to be continued, let me know. You can even throw me some other ideas/requests for this series/other one-shots and I might write them :)

COMING TO THIS PARTY HAD BEEN A BAD IDEA. The booze was flowing. The apartment was stuffed with so many people that no matter where you turned you were met with a face or pressed against someone else. The rooms were rank with the scents of alcohol and sweat. Everything just screamed “Uncomfortable,” and “Get out,” yet you glumly remained.

Really, you wouldn’t have even gone if it wasn’t for your friends worrying about you. They saw how you only talked to them, never went out to parties, and had generally cocooned yourself from the rest of society. They knew it was because of what happened back in Woodsboro. You had lost so much. Your friends, your sister, everything. But, they wanted you to be happy. To get out there. So, when they begged you to come to this party with them, you said yes.

And at first, the party was fine. Fun, even. You had mostly stuck with Tara, who had progressively gotten very, very drunk. You weren’t one for drinking, however, staying stone-cold sober. You were too paranoid about everything and everyone to let yourself lose focus for a second. And besides, your friends needed someone to bring them back home and nurse them to health.

Hanging with Tara was fun. Freeing, really. You two talked about whatever was on your mind, chatting about the silliest things. You guys complained about sleazeball professors that set deadlines way too early and avidly discussed new A24 releases (including a pointed comment from you about how much Tara looked like one of the leads in A24’s X, which she shook her head at). You made fun of Tara for her obvious crush on Chad; she poked fun at your relationship with Ethan. You told her that there was nothing going on between you two, but she held a knowing smirk that you couldn’t rub off of her face no matter how hard you tried.

But, drinking nothing but water wasn’t great for your bladder. So, you had to leave her to use the restroom. After hearing a brief comment about how she’d “see you soon,” you left. When you returned, however, Tara was gone. It was strange. Tara wouldn’t just leave you like that. Then again, she was shitfaced and might be talking with a literal wall right now.

And she indeed was talking to a wall- well, more like a pole. She was talking to some six-foot mass of curls in a plain white tee—no costume in sight, sadly. His back was turned to you, so you couldn't tell who it was, but Tara seemed to be enjoying the conversation, so you left them be. Besides, you weren’t good at talking with new people. You never were. Plus, you didn’t want to scare off Tara’s new friend.

So, you went to refill your water bottle in the kitchen. Upon doing so, you were eyed by some drunk girls who started giggling. While you couldn’t hear everything they said, the words “murderer,” and “Ghostface,” were enough to shake you. Your head pounded. Everything awful about the party that you had been able to ignore with Tara nearby suddenly was in your face, impossible to avoid. It was all suffocating. You scuttled out of the kitchen, weaving your way through party-goers with several apologies leaving your lips. The girls’ awful, loud cackles followed you, even outside of the party.

This led you to where you are now, sitting on a bench, alone on the balcony. Your feet tap incessantly as you run through a breathing exercise, trying to center yourself. You are nothing like Amber. They don’t know any better. You are fine. Everything is fine. You can breathe.

Suddenly, you hear the door behind you close shut. You sharply turn your head to see Ethan and let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi,” He says. He motions to the bench. “Is it okay if I join you?”

You nod, scooting over. “Yeah, that’s fine,” You reply, your gaze already growing soft and fond. You pat the spot, flashing him a small smile. He returns it with a smile of his own, sitting down next to you.

“What are you doing out here?” You ask, your surprise at seeing him being pretty apparent.

He shrugs, taking a deep breath in. “I needed some air. You?”

You nod. “Yeah, same,”

You two fall into silence. Only the muffled sounds of blaring music and drunken shouts accompany you. But, the silence is comfortable. Neither of you mind it.

Then, Ethan speaks up. “Uh- so, how’s the party been… for you?”

He’s a little awkward with starting the conversation, his eyes not quite meeting yours until after he speaks. You giggle lightly, your eyes crinkling up in a way that makes Ethan’s heart skip a beat. He’s happy to see you with a smile on your face again. He’s even happier to know that it is because of him.

“Well, it’s been… fine,” You reply. He nods, staying quiet. He seems like he wants to hear more, so you continue. “I mean, I got to hang with Tara for most of it. And, it was really nice spending time with her, just us two. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to be one-on-one with her. Everything feels like a group activity nowadays- which I’m definitely not against. I love it actually. But, it was nice.”

Ethan nods, a smile on his face. “That’s good! That’s really good,”

You shake your head, chuckling. “Yeah, it is.” You agree, “What about you? Has the party scene been treating you well?”

Ethan hesitates, tilting his head. “Uh- it hasn’t been bad,”

Your smile drops. “Oh,” You say, full of concern.

Ethan shakes his head. “Hey, nothing that bad happened. It’s just- Chad tried to get me to flirt with a girl,”

You nod. “Ohhhh, okay. Well, how’d it go?” You ask. While you’d normally cheer him on or hype him up, considering that there isn’t a great ending to this story, you are a lot more restrained with your response than normal.

“Well, she wasn’t interested. She just kind of- shook her head and laughed,”

You still, grimacing. “Shit, I’m sorry,” You apologize.

Ethan shakes his head again. “It’s okay. I don’t think she meant to be mean. Besides, I don’t think anyone’s going to find me very attractive in this,” He says, motioning to his cardboard armor.

You balk at the comment. “Hey! I think your suit is very cool,” You retort, fully meaning it. His suit is cool. It seems handmade yet is super creative and made well. It’s a labor of love.

“You mean it?” Ethan asks softly. He seems surprised, which only hurts you more. What kind of pricks were shitting on his passion projects? This was cool stuff! God, people suck sometimes (a lot of the time, actually, but you were trying to be more positive).

You nod excitedly. “Yeah, I mean, this is cool as hell! You made it yourself, right?” You ask. He nods, confirming your thoughts. “Well, how long did you spend on it?”

“I- uh, I stayed up last night making it,”

You nod, beaming at him. “That’s cool! And honestly, it’s well made too.”

Ethan was practically glowing from your compliments, his smile growing wider.

“Look, if anyone is shitting on your costume, they’re just jealous.” You admit. You turn towards the door where you get a hazy view inside the party. You pat Ethan on the shoulder, getting him to turn the same way. “I mean, look at everyone at this party.” You say, pointing at everyone. “No one put effort into their costumes, not even me. Most people just wore whatever they could find in their closet and are trying to get laid, while you, sir, are an artist.” You say the last line with a chuckle, but with meaning too.

Ethan giggles. “An artist? Now you’re just inflating my ego,” He quips back.

You shrug. “Would that be so bad?” You joke, laughing more. “But I’m being serious. What you’re wearing is cool. No one’s going to care about Jessica’s vampire costume ten years down the line, hell, not even ten days from now. Or mine. But yours is cool. It’ll be something sick to show your kids,”

“Hey, I think your costume is cool!” He refutes. You balk in return, laughing.

“Eth, now you’re just trying to inflate my ego.” You retort. “This is an Angel costume. This dress is from my closet and I had to get the halo and wings from Anika. I didn’t exactly come up with anything groundbreaking here,”

“Well, I think you look beautiful,”

The words leave you speechless. You turn to Ethan, searching his face for any traces of malice, humor, or anything disingenuous. But, there aren’t any. He looks at you with wonder and a gentle fondness that makes your heart ache. His gaze is incredibly gentle, like he thinks that if he looks at you too hard you’ll shatter, yet he can’t tear his gaze from you.

Yours doesn’t leave his either, taking his features in. You haven’t gotten much one-on-one time with Ethan before, always being split apart by a Meeks-Martin or a Carpenter. So, you never get to look at him this close. But, god, he’s beautiful. You’ve always been aware of that, but more so now than ever.

The scenery around you two isn’t anything special, consisting of a few very real (dying) plants strewn around and a few rows of string lights overhead. But, the string lights give Ethan this incandescent glow. Even though you’re the one wearing an Angel costume, he looks like the real deal. A halo forms around his head, and god, okay, maybe Tara has a point. A really good point, actually.

Then, a stray frat guy slams against the door, his alcohol spilling against the door and him with it. Yikes. You both grimace, feeling sorry for him. With bated breath, you two are silent as the guy rushes off. Only after he leaves do you both start awkwardly chuckling.

“And that is why I don’t drink,” You comment, causing Ethan to hiccup with laughter. “Have you drunk at all?”

Ethan hums, shaking his hand back and forth. “Some. Not a lot though. I don’t have a great tolerance.”

You nod, humming. “Fair.”

“How come you don’t drink?” Ethan asks before another hiccup. “Not judging. That’s fine that you don’t. I’m just curious,” He tenses up, fearful that he said the wrong thing.

You chuckle. “You’re fine. I didn’t think you were.” You confirm. He sighs in relief, leaving you awkwardly chuckling. He’s cute. “I mean- I used to. Back in Woodsboro. Not a lot, but I did. But, after… uhm,” You draw out the last word, giving him a pointed look.

“Ohhh,” He murmurs, nodding. Knowing that he understands what you mean, you continue.

“Yeah, that’s why. I’m just… anxious about it happening again. I know that it probably won’t happen all the way out in New York and it’s probably just my own anxiety messing with me at this point, but I just…” You pause for a moment. “I don’t know, I just never want to feel as powerless as I did that night. If it ever happened again, I want to be present. Defend myself and my friends, y’know,” You look to Ethan and he understands, nodding. But, there’s also this strange haze in his eyes. It’s only there for a moment, passing almost as quickly as you see it, but you swiftly forget it. It’s probably the alcohol affecting him.

“No, that- that makes sense,” He responds, swallowing thickly. His gaze leaves yours for a moment, flicking toward the vast jungles of New York. Then it returns to you. “Is that uhm, night, also why you’re out here?”

You pause, sucking a breath in. It makes sense that he saw through your fake excuse for coming out here. Hell, he probably saw you leave the party suddenly and followed you (because he cares, a distant voice in your head says). So, you nod. “Yeah,” You glumly admit. “I- uh, right before I came out here, when I wasn’t with Tara anymore, these girls were… saying things about me.”

Ethan hums, looking at you with wide doe eyes. “I couldn’t hear much of what they said, but words like “Ghostface,” and “murderer,” weren’t exactly markers of anything positive,” You continue. You chuckle darkly, but Ethan can tell that you’re still hurt by those words. They’re fresh wounds.

“I’m sorry,” He apologizes.

You shake your head. “Don’t apologize. It’s not like it’s your fault,” You joke dryly, but you’re a lot less lively than earlier. You’re more dead, stewing in your anxiety again. You play with your hands, rubbing circles into them repetitively.

“Look, those girls don’t know what they’re talking about.” He pipes up. His conviction is so strong that you tear your gaze from your hands, returning it to him. “They’re just going off of Reddit theories. They don’t know you,” He leans in slightly, his voice falling to a near whisper yet remaining powerful. “They don’t deserve to,”

You’re taken off-guard by the possessiveness in his voice, by how sure of himself he is now. This isn’t how Ethan normally is. But, his words are sweet, and assure you that you aren’t anything like Amber. For once, the stupid voices in your head trying to convince you that maybe those Reddit theorists have a point quiet. It’s just you and Ethan, and everything is peaceful. You can breathe, finally.

You smile at him. It’s a genuine, soft smile, speaking volumes for how grateful you are for him. Not just for him being here tonight, but for everything. For being so sweet. So kind.

Then, the moment is suddenly interrupted by Anika storming onto the balcony. Shoving the door open, she grimaces at intruding on the romantic scene but continues. “Sorry to break you guys up, but Tara’s in trouble,”

While at first annoyed by the intrusion, you perk to attention at the mention of Tara. “What? Shit, what happened to Tara?” You ask, worried. You know Anika wouldn’t get you guys if it wasn’t something serious.

“It’s Frankie,” Anika explains, your heart dropping. Shit, you shouldn’t have left her alone at this party. If you had known she was talking to Frankie, there was no way you would have left her alone with him. That guy was a serial creep and freak. You quickly thank Anika before exiting the balcony, pushing through the drunken crowd. Ethan tails you, with Anika following behind.

“He’s taking her up the stairs!” Anika yells. Once you three reach the stairs, that’s when you get a front-row view of the night going from 0 to 100 in terms of batshit craziness. One second, Chad is talking to a handsy Frankie dragging Tara up the stairs, the next, Chad is fighting him, then Sam is tasing Frankie in the balls.

You gape at the sight, seeing Frankie finally get the beating he deserves. Looking at Ethan, you awkwardly chuckle while he grimaces, almost feeling bad for the guy. Almost. Grabbing Ethan by the hand, you drag him away from the scene of the crime. And, if he’s struck silent for damn near the rest of the night because of you holding his hand and not the preceding events, that is only for him to know.

[plutomn]

People aren’t understanding that Ekko talking Jinx out of letting go then her possibly dying at the end isn’t bad writing or useless

Jinx tries to let go because she believes she is the reasons as to why in the people she loves and anyone who gets too close dies. She believes herself to be a jinx

But when she lets go of Vi’s hand, she is protecting someone she loves

She desperately calls out to Vi to move away, to save herself. But Vi becomes caught up in Warwick’s familiarity. He was once her father. Jinx understand it too

So when Jinx jumps to save Vi, she is finally, finally letting go of being a jinx. She saves Vi, her sister. The lost one she loves who has a chance of survival, of being truely loved.

[nessatwene-art]

🌊🌊