#which would further the “’I’m a child’ agenda

[a-concert-just-for-me]

/negative

This county office I’m shadowing at for the week is fucking awful I feel like a freak every second and I keep getting made fun of and infantilized and can’t wait to go back to my home office where there’s at least one other ND person Jesus fucking Christ

#/negative #why are people so fucking mean #and WEIRD about wanting me to share personal info and if I don’t I’m a prude #I’m not a fucking child #I’m going insane I’m actually going to have a meltdown sooner or later if they keep doing this #which would further the “’I’m a child’ agenda #great!!! great!!! I love autism it’s soooo cool I love it soooooo much /s #I can’t escape from here I’m stuck stuck stuck stuck stuck with these mean girls #sorry for being negative I just need to scream into the void #I will delete this later

[longing-for-rain]

what exactly is Aang's toxic masculinity that you're talking about? there are no examples of such behavior on his part in the show. he is not an ideal person, he is a child who sometimes behaved incorrectly, just like all the other children in the show (Katara, Toph, Sokka), and this is normal.

in addition, we see how he regrets some of his wrong actions and gets better, while Zuko does not regret his toxic behavior, doesn't apologize and doesn't face the consequences of his behavior (racist jokes about Aang, demands that Katara forgive him as if he has the right to her forgiveness, an attack on Aang to "teach him a lesson" and many other things).

Hi anon, thanks for the ask! This is a very good illustration of what I was talking about in this post when I mentioned that I feel toxic men are overlooked more often for appearing “nice” than they are for being conventionally attractive.

No examples of toxic behavior in the show? What do you call this then?

I know what I (and the law) call it:

But you see, he’s “nice” right? This is just a misbehaved child, as you put it? Yah, no. He knew better and still did it because he was possessive; this whole interaction started because he was jealous that an actress playing Katara was interested in men other than him. And the show proceeded to frame the situation in a way that made Aang sympathetic, despite being the aggressor and the one behaving irrationally. How much more “toxically masculine” can you get than that? But he put on a flower crown once so we’re supposed to think he’s a soft uwu feminine boi (even though he was absolutely enraged that a female actress played him).

I also find it very interesting that you describe Katara and Sokka as “children” while Zuko is omitted from that list despite being the same age. Are you admitting you agree he’s more mature, or are you admitting that you hold him to different standards?

But, anyways. You asked about toxic behavior on Aang’s part, which I’ll get further into now that the most egregious example is out of the way.

Let’s break down what you consider unforgivably toxic behavior on Zuko’s part and compare it to Aang’s behavior in similar situations.

1. “Racist” jokes

I’m guessing this is made with reference to the “Air Temple preschool” comment. How exactly is this racist? In context, Aang is the one trying to force his beliefs on others, and Zuko makes this comment to a) tell him to back off and b) point out that Aang is, in fact, a child who doesn’t have any business telling Katara how to feel.

This point is particularly interesting to me, because it implies that the simple fact that Zuko doesn’t agree with the philosophy of Aang’s culture makes him racist. By this logic, Aang is also racist against Katara’s culture, because he clearly disagrees with her philosophy and is openly telling her that his culture is morally virtuous over hers. And well. That’s even more believable considering Aang’s previous reactions to Water Tribe culture.

Ah, yes. Playing with a cultural artifact like it’s a toy because you were upset about not being the center of attention for once, and telling everyone how disgusting you think cultural food is, what great ways to show the supposed love of your life how much you respect her culture!

I know your response to this point would be something like “uwu but he’s a kid he didn’t knowww” ok well. The same logic can be applied to any alleged “racism” on Zuko’s part.

2. “Demanding” forgiveness

Zuko: What can I do to make it up to you?

Ah, yes. How demanding of him. He’s clearly so self-centered and only thinking about his own values and agenda here.

It’s not like he…

…told his friend how she’s allowed to process her grief and try to impose his own morals…

…or demanded to know if his crush liked him back, wouldn’t accept “no” as an answer, and forced a kiss on her…

…or told an abuse victim he was wrong to want to kill his abusive father for trying to commit a genocide…

…oh, um. Yeah. Sorry, but after actually watching the show it’s very clear to me which character doesn’t seem to regret or see the flaws in any of his actions at the end of the show, which is when all of these examples took place.

3. Training in the finale

“Attacking Aang to teach him a lesson” … wow, that’s a very dishonest way of phrasing that situation. I’m impressed, I have to say. I’ve seen lots of dumb takes from Aang stans over the years but this is a new one.

Well, luckily I actually watched the scene in context, so my reaction was the same as all the other characters’ reactions in canon when they learned the context behind this “attack”:

They agree with him. Yeah. Obviously, when nobody is taking training seriously when the world is about to literally go up in flames, you might need to do something to get their attention.

“But it was dangerous!” you might argue. Well… yeah. When magic and bending is in the equation, training in the Avatar universe has been shown to be somewhat dangerous at times. As an example, from this very same episode, Toph very nearly smashed Sokka with a giant flaming rock. That was way closer to hurting someone than Zuko was in this incident. If you’re going to fault characters for making their training exercises too dangerous, I guess Toph is mega cancelled.

Now back to Aang. What was his reaction in this situation? How did he react to the end of the world being days away? He ran away with absolutely no plan. Just like he did at the very beginning of the show.

I mean, think about it. This is a critical flaw (and toxic trait) in Aang that is literally never addressed, because he starts and ends the show the exact same way: he’s faced with a problem, he runs away from it, then he’s saved by an in-universe equivalent of an Act of God. Wowie, such great character development. Not fixing your core flaw and having a mythical plot device materialize into existence to solve your problems for you. Aang’s whole arc is a big blah, because the writing fails to address any of his flaws or have him meaningfully question any of his values.

Meanwhile, Zuko has consistently been a fan favorite because he’s the opposite. His flaws are meaningfully addressed, he does admit he’s wrong and fix his flaws, and his character shows a critically acclaimed change throughout the show. His arc is written so well that despite being a cartoon character, Zuko is widely considered the poster child for a good redemption arc across all forms of media.

So anyways, miss me with the double standards… there is a reason why Zuko is the fan favorite, and it’s not just his abs 🔥

#fandom salt #meta #zuko #katara #aang critical #canon critical #atla #zutara #anti kataang #ask #anon

[wingsdippedingold]

At the end of the day that entire ACOTAR pregnancy plot point was bullshit. It was a breaking dawn rebrand and somehow worse.

It could’ve been written very differently and properly come across as concern for both mother and child AND coincide with the power to choose in a way that would be beneficial to the story. Instead Sarah decided to throw in a nonsensical plot point (because if Rhysand is as smart as she says he is, he would’ve considered the risks of having unprotected sex in a different form that literally has a wings beforehand, argue with the wall) to push some sort of agenda on the nature of women’s rights politics. She isn’t some intersectional feminist queen, she’s a privileged white women who used and continues to use her books to spread her own ideologies.

Obviously every book has their author’s own biases ingrained in them, but it’s the fact that she tried to write what Rhysand did as a morally correct option. It doesn’t matter that Feyre was like “Oh thanks Nesta for telling me,” he didn’t face any consequences for keeping critical medical information from Feyre. In fact he never faces and substantial consequences.

Feyre is a grown women (while I don’t think she should be a high lady or a mother at this point in her character yet) the narrative tries to convince the reader that she is, and yet acts as if she’ll drop dead the second she hears about the complications. Which is it? Is she an empowered, intelligent woman capable of leading a nation and marrying a man further in age from her than she is from her child, or is she an irrational innocent girl who can’t handle her own medical information? Feyre isn’t a sheltered dove, she has been through a lot, it’s absolutely nonsensical to pretend like there’s any reason for her not to be aware of the risks.

It’s not “oh Rhysand was going to tell her eventually” how eventual? It’s pretty clear there wasn’t a solution he could’ve made, so what, will he tell her while she’s in the middle of labor? He should’ve told her the second he knew, and so should have Madja, the medical professional.

SJM literally made the characters know what lactic acid was, but not a c-section. It was entirely intentional to frame the arc in this light. We don’t know for a fact that SJM is pro-life but it’s pretty obvious. The only reason people seem to agree with it is because it worked out in the end. If it didn’t I actually don’t know what they’d do, because SJM has never written Rhysand or Feyre to commit a crime that wasn’t justified in some way.

ALSO WHY THE FUCK WOULDNT THEY IUST HAVE HER SHIFT BACK TO ILLYRIAN FORM TO GIVE BIRTH??? she shifted fine in early pregnancy, which is more dangerous, but she can’t do it again? We know shifting doesn’t affect the baby in any substantial way since he was still born Illyrian (even though it absolutely should idc if it’s magic she’s changing her anatomy and guess what’s attached to that anatomy)

This was a reblog initially but I’m reposting it here because it’s long and I feel bad making people scroll

#anti sjm #anti acotar #anti sarah j maas #anti rhysand #sjm critical #rhysand critical #pro nesta archeron #not because this has anything to do with her #But because they’re a little better at thinking and less hostile

[viviennelamb]

Greetings Vivienne,

I received your book earlier today, and I was just got to your section on Adam and Eve and I just wanted to say I really love how you interpreted the “be fruitful and multiply” verse, looking at it this way makes much more sense and is actually wholesome and uplifting. It’s no wonder lustful heterosexuals took this meaning out and exchanged it with a meaning regarding physical reproduction of the ego. Also I have read many years ago that Adam was originally female and that Adam had a womb, what they call a Tsela in Hebrew, which I find even more interesting as it would mean both Adam and Eve were female. Also Genesis 2:24 is quite interesting in wording the pathology of the incomplete male seeking to reattach to the female. I can’t wait to get to your chapters on genetics, I’ve always found it extremely important for beginners on the spiritual journey to understand male genetics so they won’t be deceived by pseudo spiritual “teachers” and duped into some form of phallus worship. You are one of the very few people who put the pieces together in their entirety and I’m so grateful to have experienced your work ❤️🦋💓🥰🌟🪷🌺��

Hello ❤️,

Many people will interpret the Bible, and anything really, based on their personal vibration. A sex-conscious individual will obviously interpret everything they read sexually. I won't tell them they're wrong, but I do listen to people carefully and take them at face value to understand the state of their mind. I have a problem when they begin enforcing their carnal interpretation of a Spiritual book on me as if I exist to further their agenda, and I let them know quickly that I'm not one of their kind. If they want to breed themselves to death, that's their decision.

The Holy Bible is a beautiful book, and one of my favorites because it's the truth. Most people think that the Bible is telling people how to live, when it's the Book of Reality. They're also upset that the Bible is patriarchal, but it's the ordinary person who's patriarchal by having sex with men. Women like submitting to men, the Bible didn't tell them to do that. The book is just a documentation of what's actually happening.

There's actually a group that has more power than heterosexuals, which you will find in a later chapter. Heterosexuals have been groomed and taught to feel prideful about their sexual habits, so they procreate and spend their lives producing for the system. This group meticulously planned how to keep the system going and gaining all the profit from it while heterosexuals are in perpetual debt and stress. But it's their choice because they cannot pass up the status, validation, and limitless sex they get from marriage and procreation. Pride is a drug.

Heterosexuals don't have any power. They're slaves. Any "power" they have is artificial and they're the scapegoat. This is especially evident when I ask them why they have kids after they rant to be about the faults of society, and they shrug and go silent. I'm not against people having children, but I like to see where a person's mind is at and heterosexuals are zombies. I'm not impressed with child-free heterosexuals who still have sex because they're still placing themselves in the position to be slaves.

A heterosexual/bisexual who is chaste has gone against a hell of a lot more programming than somebody who's homosexual and chaste. When you're a lesbian especially, it's quicker to step out of brainwashing because nobody cares about lesbians, which is an advantage when it comes to finding God. Heterosexuals sincerely do not understand choice and freewill, they are operating on a genital level because they've been taught that's all they're useful for since birth—both the males and females.

Straights get irate when you talk to them about anything that isn't traditional. Most of them are convinced they're not traditional and unique when they have sex with the opposite sex and give birth. That's as traditional as it gets. The aesthetics don't matter, that was a marketing tool. They hold strongly to the notion of “social suicide” as anything that restricts their sexual options undermines their will to survive. They exist to breed and then die. They smugly say this is the only thing they're useful for as well.

Very basic concepts like vulnerability and personality traits are vast and complex to them because it brings a new aspect to sex. Pretty much, they explore anything that allows them to become preoccupied with sex in a slightly different way because there's legitimately nothing else for them to think about.

They're always protesting for freedom, but when I ask who is oppressing them, I still, to this day, have never got a direct answer. Whether it's about religion, race, gender, it's a system they could put an end to if they kept their legs closed.

Gender is an important topic in spirituality, but I'm going to go beyond that. There really is no gender. Men and women do have their roles to play wrt to attaining purity, which you will read about in OTE. But really, when an individual becomes pure of mind, gender is a construct that has been created primarily for sexual reasons. Once one leaves sex-consciousness because you're not having sex anymore, gender isn't a big deal—it's about who's false self and who isn't. This will be in the next book.

Low conscious males and females are copies of one another, which is why you see they have the same movements (red pill, pink pill, MGTOW, WGTOW, MRA, WRA) and neither can live by their philosophy because hateful dogma makes money. There's a prominent leader of a women's movement who talks a big game about hating men while being married to one. These individuals appear as human, but are animals. I never mean earthly animals either, they're much lower entities who are manipulative and have no regard for you. They're an amalgamation of disease, addictions and stolen personality traits, and they do it for profit. It's really weird, again, they're slaves and have a scarcity, lying and low-self worth problem. Until they resolve these issues, the only achievement they will have in life is having a lot of money... but become so depressed they cannot even spend it, so they hoard it and convince themselves it's “saving” or “investing.”

I'm glad you're enjoying the book so far!!

#ask

[dduane]

Sfsjshdjshs Diane Duane is here?! Your books were such a big part of my childhood. 🥰🥰🥰 I especially loved your young wizard stories. They dared to be weird in a world of more “marketable,” “palatable,”consumable literature that didn’t take any chances.

They’re a big reason I dare to be weird today. Thank you!

You’re absolutely welcome. :)

I have to say that when I first started writing the Young Wizards books, my publishers didn’t seem overly concerned about them being weird. They seemed happy that they were new and interesting… even a bit challenging.

Back then—as in the 1970s/1980s, bless them—at least some of our publishers were bolder than they seem to be these days. They often seemed to believe that good writing should be allowed to shoulder the weight of passing strange-ish new ideas on to a new readership… and that the readership was smart enough to handle what those new ideas seemed to be saying about the world.

Over the last few/four/five decades, the world has changed around us. (eyeroll) All around the world at the moment, people (who usually haven’t been taught to be better) are being encouraged to be cruel to different people, odd people, weird people, thoughtful-but-not-in-the-usual-ways people.

This being the case, it seems to me as if it’s time for folks generally to take a deep breath and do the thing you hoped (as a child) you’d never have to do: stand up for the weird. Many of us would, in the ancient day, have run and hidden rather than do that. Now we no longer have the luxury.

You may not do it perfectly. (Some correctly notable names in our field catch grief even now for their early inclusiveness not being “good enough” by today’s standards.) But this kind of nitpicking is something we have no time to indulge, especially if we’re currently doing the best we can with the data and advice we have at hand in the here and now. 

So: be weird, and (because you would anyway) while standing up for the weird, let people know what you’re doing, and why. Mind yourself when you do, for in this world we now inhabit it’s not always safe to be weird, or even to talk about it. But you’re the one best equipped to tell the rest of us what you’re thinking, and you have a right to be heard.

My only caveat about this: Work to communicate your thinking with the greatest clarity you can manage… and read liberally among those who’re gifted at this art, to learn how to do it better. Do your very best to make it impossible for the people to whom you’re talking to, or for whom you’re writing, to mistake what you mean. Unfortunately, all around us seethes a great furious pool of those who seek to put the worst possible construction on your words, thereby to further their own agendas.

…They’re going to do this anyway, of course. But make them work for it. By and large the enemies of the Weird are unclear on how to use Language to its best advantage. (We should all be grateful for small mercies…) In the meantime, what else can I say but: good hunting. :)

(…And a last word: at the Young Wizards end of things, I’m not done yet. See youngwizards.com for details... especially about works you haven’t read yet: and about the YW fandom, which is small but quite, quite vital.) :)

#Young Wizards #weirdness

[justtosealmyfate1]

HP, the press and what is means to be a celebrity: meta

One of my favorite topics is the media and how that would play out in the Potters’ lives post-war. I touch upon this in the reaction to Albus and Scorpius getting together. There’s a media whirlwind after the photos of the two of them kissing are released. 

(this is about my fic, the fates, which is about when Albus and Scorpius’ relationship is found out.)

A lot of HP fics take the tone of “the media is so intrusive and ruining everyone’s life” which is fair to an extent, and also the precedent JKR set with Rita Skeeter’s character in the original books. She’s clearly a parody of British tabloid writers. Celebrity is also explored differently across fics. In the books, Harry is very famous, and a politically important figure. He’s always in the newspaper! The Minister of Magic is coming to his Christmas dinner to court him! This notoriety would only grow after he defeats Voldemort. I see Harry as (this sounds so dramatic for talking about a fictional character) an Obama, Nelson Mandela, Malala type of celebrity. A political figure, a hero, a survivor but also a mainstay in popular culture. Plus, he’s married to an attractive Quidditch player, and I’m sure they captivate the world with their Posh and Becks, Taylor and Travis type love. This is all to say that I think the Potters are megacelebrities, and Albus is a celebrity child who would reap the rewards and face the consequences of that. 

The American media landscape (while of course not without its flaws) is very different from the British media landscape, particularly the tabloids. British tabloids are crazy. It’s brutal. The Daily Mail is a disgrace to journalism. I think this culture would also bleed into Wizarding media. 

However!!...the relationship between celebrities and celebrity media is symbiotic. The “royal reporters” at the Daily Mail aren’t actually doing any journalistic work (even though they should be… like tell me what the fuck is going on with Kate Middleton), they’re being fed stories by the palace. This absolutely happens in the US too. Publicists will feed stories to friendlier publications, like People. When “a source close to Taylor Swift” is telling Entertainment Tonight exclusively that Taylor and Joe Alwyn broke up, it’s her publicist. 

What does this mean for the Potters? Well, they absolutely need a publicist, they need to be working with a PR team and they need a media strategy. It’s funny to think about that in the context of the books, but that dynamic was seen in the Order of the Phoenix. Harry’s “PR team” of Hermione and Luna got Rita Skeeter to write a story about Voldemort’s return. That’s political news, not celebrity gossip, but it shows that Harry knows how to use the media to get what he wants. While I don’t think as an adult he’d be doing the Wired Autocomplete interviews, he’d know how to navigate the press to further his agenda and protect his family’s image. 

I think the Potter children would be pretty protected from the press. Rita Skeeter wrote in her 2014 Quidditch World Cup article that the Potters are wizarding royalty, which informs my opinion of how the mechanisms of their celebrity would play out. I wrote in the fates that Harry and Ginny release curated photos of their children in exchange for not taking paparazzi photos of them, a la the royal family. While Harry is more of a statesman-like celebrity, who has a carefully crafted image and is more likely to be seen at charity events, diplomatic summits and ceremonies, Ginny is different. As a Quidditch player she’s more of a traditional celebrity. She’s canonically popular but a guarded person. She strikes me as the type of celebrity who masterfully makes you think you know her, but you actually know nothing at all. 

As for the kids, I think there would be a lot of media attention and interest in them. Would they lean into that, like North West, or shy away from it? I think they’d shy away from it, especially Albus. I think James would be more open to press attention. 

The three press stories I wrote for the fates all reflect different types of celebrity news. There’s the traditional, factual Daily Prophet article, the Daily Prophet opinion piece, and the Simmering Cauldron radio show. The Simmering Cauldron is entirely based on Wendy Williams. Don’t tell me she wouldn’t do something exactly like that! The DP article is expository, and then the opinion piece is meant to showcase the discourse surrounding their relationship. 

There’s a whole debate to be had about how celebrity children should be treated and the role of celebrities in our culture in general, and Albus and Scorpius are great vehicles to explore this.

#hp meta #Harry Potter meta #cursed child #cursed child meta #scorbus #albus potter #hpcc

[lunadorned]

I’ve been thinking of some theories. These ideas tie in with the concept that the Maasverse explores the same world in different time periods, with ToG being the oldest of the three, followed by ACOTAR and then CC.

(Disclaimer: I’m just playing around with some thoughts. I don’t have the time to back up my thesis with citations at the moment, so the ideas presented are based upon my recollection of reading the books in the past few years. I’m well aware that I’m human and, as such, able to make mistakes, so. Don’t take this as a full-bodied literary analysis, just a simple thought exercise.)

I think that Rhysand is a descendent of Maeve via his father’s lineage. Those violet eyes and dark hair? A monstrous form? Mind reading and thought manipulation? We’ve seen all of these traits in the false faerie queen. And Rhys’s father had a penchant for cruelty—just like Maeve.

Which begs the question, who could have fathered Maeve’s line?

Consider who in ToG was able to step in the space between. Who was able to “winnow” before this skill was called such? We’ve got two candidates and both of them (unfortunately) had relations with Maeve: the wolf twins.

I think Maeve specifically chose the twins because they were rare among their kind and they had magic she did not possess.

Fenrys mentions at one point that even he’s not quite sure how his magic works—it’s a kind of ability without much information, and hence, rare. To Maeve, this would be a coveted skill.

So, okay. One of the twins could have conceivably fathered a child for Maeve. If that’s the case, where’s the kid? Why did no one ever see them? Did Connall have privy to that kind of information?

My theory is that Maeve’s child is the owl with whom she was often seen. Although rumored to be a healer, the bird didn’t exactly have a confirmed backstory. What if, like their wolf father, the child was a shapeshifter? SJM didn’t explicitly state how the shapeshifter gene works. A case could be made that the gene could be passed on without a specific animal being attached to it.

Even if the owl is not Maeve’s offspring hiding in plain sight, there are still plausible theories as to where the child could exist. Maeve could have easily hidden a child in her kingdom and manipulated the minds of caregivers to obscure identity. In this vein, she could also have erased any knowledge of a child’s existence or of her potential pregnancy from the minds of The Cadre, Connall included.

Maeve may also have gotten rid of Connall for this very reason. If she only required a child (perhaps multiple children) from Connall, not true companionship, then he would have at some point fulfilled his purpose. He would have become disposable, especially if Maeve wanted her progeny kept secret. At some point, the kid would likely start asking after their parentage. As a single parent, Maeve would have total control over the child’s life. We know she loves to be a puppeteer; she’d never allow anyone else to pull her kid’s strings. Or, maybe Fenrys is the true father, and Connall figured this out. Either way, Maeve couldn’t risk that knowledge getting out and making her vulnerable.

I already suspected that Connall was manipulated into his own demise, but the theory that it furthered Maeve’s hidden agenda (while also causing Fenrys pain), gives additional weight to the idea.

And when we think about Rhys in connection to Maeve, many puzzle pieces begin to make sense. His mind-bending abilities are unrivaled. He can break a brain with little effort. Rhys was even able to hide an entire city for decades. He shape-shifts into a monstrous form and struggles with this dark side. Sounds like Rhys has a lot in common with his violet-eyed ancestor. And let’s not forget that Rhys, just like the wolf twins, is one of the characters able to winnow in ACOTAR.

Mor, Rhys’s cousin with the same lineage, can also winnow. Yes, there are others in ACOTAR who have the winnowing ability, and that could mean potential mixing of lines for those families. It’s worth exploring.

Updating to add:

Forgot to mention that the word “Daemati” suggests these mind-reading powers are “demonic”. And Maeve was a demon/Valg.

Thanks for reading!

What do you think? Did Maeve have an heir? Multiple heirs? If so, with whom? Is Rhysand Maeve’s descendant?

#throne of glass #tog #maeve #rhysand #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #maasverse #acotar spoilers #tog spoilers #throne of glass spoilers #aelin galythinius #throne of glass theories #acotar theory

[queerprayers]

hello! i was wondering if you could expand on what you said about “evangelical christian homeschool survivors”. i found it interesting, since i’m close with quite a few people who fit that description, but never thought of it as something that harmful to someone

(i understand that you aren’t a professional source, for lack of a better term, but i would appreciate your thoughts! i hope you have a blessed and lovely day <3)

(re: this post)

Yes I can, beloved! And yep, I'm not a psychologist/researcher/etc., and also have not personally experienced this, but I've been close to people who have, and have heard a lot about it, so I'll give you what I have. This is USA-centric, as usual, because that's where my experience/knowledge comes from.

I do want to make clear that homeschooling is not in itself a bad thing, and there are many people, especially neurodivergent/disabled people, who have benefited immensely from being able to partially or fully have more freedom over their environment. Especially considering the state of the school system in some places, I don't blame any parent for wanting their kid to have a different experience. And looking at recent events like the "Don't Say Gay" bill in Florida, the importance of having a legal way to not send your child to a public school is, I think, important. Autonomy is a human right, and the origins of modern homeschooling were full of liberating ideas.

My sister was homeschooled for a year in elementary school, and it gave her a much needed break and an opportunity to explore learning techniques that worked better for her neurodivergences. When I dropped out of high school, we did consider finishing through homeschooling instead, and even though it didn't work out, if I was in a different situation it would have been a great opportunity. One of the girls I babysit is trans, and her identity is one of the reasons her parents don't feel comfortable sending her to a public school here.

Obviously if a family is religious and homeschooling, religion may play a part in education, just like if a student attended a religious private school. This also in itself is not a bad thing, in my opinion. Passing on tradition and morals to kids and educating your kid about your heritage and beliefs can be a really positive thing. I can totally see incorporating Christian ideas in an education without disrupting the education—for instance, a science lesson about the environment which includes the belief that God made the world and we have a duty to take care of it. It becomes a problem when the belief eclipses the science, I suppose (like creationism)—or when children aren't exposed to diverse ideas.

I don't think people realize how lax a lot of homeschooling laws are in the US. It's completely state-based, so I don't know how it is everywhere, but where I am it was insanely easy to take my sister out of school and, because my parents have high school degrees, basically say, "Trust me, we got this" and proceed to teach her whatever. Because my parents are generally sensible, intelligent people, and have experience in education, it went fine and she was prepared to go to the next grade, but I can't help wondering what would have happened if they weren't.

Because of that freedom, there are a lot of evangelicals/conservatives in the US who have taken their kids out of public schools (sometimes citing "evil secular gay agendas" and the like) and proceeded to teach their kids whatever—"whatever," in this case, being conspiracy theories, fundamentalism instead of science, patriarchal/racist/etc. social norms, and censorship/limited access to diversity of identity/opinion and actual history. You can find endless Christian homeschool resources online that are full of truly limiting and just plain wrong teachings, especially in regards to history and science.

There are numerous examples of going even further than this—someone I knew never went into too much detail (I gathered it was too traumatic to discuss), but did share experiences with me of an evangelical homeschool co-op (multiple families cooperating to homeschool their children together) that used emotionally and physically abusive punishments as well as all the normal brainwashing and manipulation, with zero supervision or consequences. There are so many examples of abused children not receiving help for so long because they were completely isolated from their peers and other adults, partially through homeschooling, and so were not noticed and weren't able to seek help.

It's a complicated situation, because I don't think homeschooling is ultimately the issue here. Lack of supervision is an issue, but ultimately the fault lies with the belief systems themselves. Obviously we can't stop people from believing things—public education and exposure to different beliefs is in my opinion one of the best tools we have to help kids get out these communities and become better people, and when that's taken away, of course these kids grow up either believing exactly what their parents believe, or completely traumatized and spending the rest of their lives deconstructing and undoing the damage.

Again, the idea of homeschooling a child and incorporating Christianity into that isn't inherently bad/traumatic, and while I think lack of exposure to diverse beliefs is harmful, Christian homeschooling can include that exposure and I'm sure it can be done very well. But there's so much abuse, neglect, radicalism, excessive control, and grooming that goes under the radar in these families/communities, and we have to talk about it! I don't know if I'm the best person to do that, but maybe I can help start a conversation or make people aware of the issue.

Some relevant articles/resources: (Content warnings for descriptions of abuse and related issues)

How Christian Schools and Homeschooling Teach Supremacist Conspiracies by Audrey Clare Farley (Ms. Magazine)

The Homeschool Apostates by Kathryn Joyce (The American Prospect)

Former homeschooler on the Duggar family's horrifying fundamentalist "education": "It's literal rape culture" by Jenny Kutner (Salon)

Traumatic Homeschooling: How Evangelicals Use Education to Totalize by R.K. Stollar

"I broke away from a strict homeschooling community cult" (BBC)

A warning on homeschooling by Elizabeth Bartholet (The Harvard Gazette)

Coalition for Responsible Home Education

Kitchen Table Cult (podcast)

Homeschooling: Indoctrination or Liberation? by Andrewism (YouTube)

Homeschooling by Ex-Fundie Diaries (YouTube playlist)

r/Homeschool Recovery (has a ton of discussions and testimonials)

<3 Johanna

#asks #abuse mention #edit: yes feel free to put your own experiences in the notes!

[revolversandlace]

Blemished Silk | Chapter Twenty-Seven - Give me Closure

Chapter Index

Arthur Morgan x f!OC Longfic

Mature Rating - 10.2k Words

Chapter Tags & Warnings: f!OC POV, Strong Language, References of Child Abuse, Period Typical Sexism,  Explicit Smut

Summary: Amelia finds herself in conflict with Cornwell’s men, and after discovering her Uncle Josiah has been attacked, she finds herself turning to Arthur for comfort. 

Saint Denis, June 1899 

The coach rattled across the Lemoyne countryside, the small crack of the window making little difference as the thick summer air wrapped around them like a snake. 

However, regardless of the sweat that Amelia felt trickling between her skin and corset, she simply couldn’t stop herself from smirking. 

Of course, she attempted to put out the thought of Arthur from her mind, a niggle of guilt sitting close with her. She saw a man shot to death, not a stone's throw away from her as her staff fought their lives. Yet even so, she had still found a way to enjoy herself without a second thought as everyone else in the house no doubt tossed and turned, startled by every creak.

But her night was soundless, with nothing more than Arthur’s heavy breathing as his hand covered her waist. 

‘You seem in awfully high spirits, ma’am,’ Mr Jameson said, his face as neutral as ever. 

The guilt stirred once again, but Arthur aside, she was still in a good mood. There was a fire in her stomach, a rush of excitement that filled her blood.

‘I have a good feeling about today,’ Amelia smiled. 

‘What is our agenda for today?’ Mr Jameson said.

Amelia smiled, the thought of Cornwall grimacing at her audacity. The outrage he would poorly conceal at a woman matching him with just as much business acumen as he believed he held. 

‘No doubt there will be further discussion about selling the assets or signing them over to Mr Cornwall under a thinly veiled threat. But we will stand firm.’ Amelia said. 

‘Forgive me, ma’am, but that hasn’t seemed to work.’ Mr Jameson said. 

‘I’m aware. I have a plan to make a compromise with him, but not one that will mean that I give him an inch of ground.’ Amelia smiled, turning to her advisor. ‘Between that and sending both you and Talako to West Elizabeth soon, I’m certain that things will finally start to look up again.’

‘I trust you ma’am.’ Mr Jameson said.

‘Thank you, Mr Jameson, that means a lot.’ Amelia said with a small nod as the carriage rattled across the wooden bridge that led into Saint Denis, the sound of wheels changing to a heavy, rhythmic echo. 

‘We could certainly do with a good turn of fortune.’ Mr Jameson said.

As the carriage pulled to a halt outside of the limestone hotel, Amelia paid the driver as her shoes clipped across the pebbled road. Greeted by the doormen, they made their way through the grand entrance way with marbled floors, crystal chandeliers and palm ferns at every corner. 

After speaking with the clerk, who promptly led them to their table at the hotel bar, Amelia saw two gentlemen already seated. Both of which she recognised, but neither was Mr Cornwall. 

‘Why hello again, miss,’ Mr Cooper said. ‘I believe you have already met with Mr Hornbrook.’ 

Amelia studied their faces, the cold and cruel grimace already playing on Mr Cooper’s face as she could feel her own mouth pressing into a taut line. Mr Hornbrook, however, had a softer demeanour. She had never particularly disliked the man, and even felt a twinge of sympathy that he chose a line of work with a man such as Leviticus Cornwall. 

‘Gentleman. This is my advisor, Mr Jameson. Where is Mr Cornwall?’ Amelia said, clutching her hands around the band of her purse. So far, this was turning out to be a rather disappointing meeting indeed. 

‘He was unable to make it. He had an important business meeting.’ Mr Cooper said.

Stifling back a laugh, Amelia took a deep breath in an attempt to hide her annoyance, or any sign for that matter, that she was disgruntled. Mr Cooper was not a man that she wanted to give the upper hand to in any situation. Both she and Mr Jameson took to the settee opposite the men. 

We will do this the hard way then, Mr Cooper, she thought.

‘Of course he did. Very well, if he doesn’t deem this as important, then this shouldn’t take too long.’ Amelia said. 

‘Our proposal remains the same, Miss Edwards.’ Mr Hornbrook said ‘However, given the recent boom in the northern Great Lakes, Mr Cornwall has reviewed his offer.’

Amelia eyed him curiously but before she could say anything, one of the waitstaff approached them, taking their drinks order as they all waited patiently for the young man to excuse himself. 

‘He can review it all he wishes, gentleman. I am not selling.’ Amelia said, holding her shoulders back and her chin high, the way Uncle had always taught her. 

‘I know it’s difficult for a… woman, such as yourself, to keep an open mind,’ Mr Cooper said, ‘but I’d suggest you read the offer.’ He almost spat the word ‘woman,’ like that in itself was a derogatory term. Amelia supposed it was on purpose, an act to intimidate her as usual. She felt her pulse quicken as it had previously been around Mr Cooper. He was certainly not a man whose company she enjoyed by any means. 

She pushed the thought of their last encounter from her mind. Reminding herself that thoughts of her father would do her no good, at least of all now. She was her own woman, and a damn fine one at that. Her pride would not allow her to be spited. 

As Mr Hornbrook took a folded note from his leather-bound pad, he slid it across the table towards her. She eyed it ruefully, picking it up and unfolded the paper. 

‘One million dollars?’ Amelia said, unable to keep her voice from faltering. She felt weak, unsure how this was anything other than a parlour trick. 

It was a tempting sum of money, too tempting perhaps. 

‘I’m sure you’re aware of the situation with longleaf pine.’ Mr Hornbrook said, his round glasses slightly slipping down the bridge of his nose, ‘price has quadrupled in the past three months alone, as with the expansion across the southern western territories, it’s in extreme supply especially in demand with the more lucrative properties.’ 

He was a distant man, but not cold. Just the sort that Amelia supposed would rather be left alone with his numbers and ledgers than to spend time with his family. 

‘As generous as this offer is, I will not concede.’ She said in response, and the waitstaff returned, setting their drinks out before them. ‘What I can assure Mr Cornwall is, however, is that my northern production will not expand in any areas that he is already operating in to ensure that no competition is being driven so he can continue to exploit the markets there.’ 

She could see them exchange a look, but not one that she could read. Mr Cooper took out a fat cigar from the inside of his jacket and ran his thumb across his lips with a smirk. An expression she had seen before and one that was slowly becoming a tell. 

‘We have a counterproposal.’ Mr Hornbrook said after a moment as they all took a sip from their glasses. 

‘You certainly are in the mood for negotiating.’ Amelia said with a tight smile, her head also growing near tight, her concentration briefly faltering in the summer heat. 

‘In the event that you do not wish to sell, Mr Cornwall proposes a syndicate for both the lumber and wool.’ Mr Hornbrook said, closing the leather-bound book, resting it on his knee. 

‘Is this some sort of joke, gentleman?’ Amelia said, her eyebrows pulling together, her face utterly readable, and she could feel the tension emanating from Mr Jameson at her side.

‘Not at all.’ Mr Hornbrook said, ‘In the event that you do not wish to sell, Mr Cornwall has suggested you sign him as an official partner. He will take over the operations under Cornwall Industries and you will retain some of the profits which will allow you to focus on other endeavours.’ 

She felt as though someone was sitting on her chest. Her thoughts raced, unsure as to whether this was a good thing or not. Surely it showed that Mr Cornwall was becoming desperate with the endless rebuttals. But she sensed it was a trap, somehow. Would he simply dissolve her company and leave her destitute? She thought it lucky and if she knew anything about the countless lawyers he had on retainer, any contract she signed with him could not possibly lead to anything good. 

‘And what endeavours would those be?’ Amelia said, unsure exactly what her next move was. She needed time.

‘A woman of your age. Probably best you find a husband, if you can. Start a family as you’re intended to do.’ Mr Cooper said, his ashy blonde eyebrows arching in amusement. 

‘If I had any interest in either marriage or children, I would have done exactly that and would still continue to run my business.’ Amelia said, although her voice sounded distant to her own ears. Why couldn’t she think of her way out of this? A syndicate? But why?

‘You sure about that, miss?’ Mr Cooper said.

Amelia ignored him, taking another sip of her brandy. 

‘Even if I did wish to form a syndicate with Mr Cornwall, or anyone else for that matter, creating a bottleneck in the market through a monopoly would make no sense. Our prices are dictated by the consumer and without competition, the product would become so inflated due to greed that the business would simply collapse. Whatever profits I would “retain” would not be for long, of that I assure you. In fact, if the index is correct, that is exactly what is happening to Mr Cornwall’s oil.’ Amelia said. It was a textbook speech, and she knew it. But she didn’t have time for the nuances of east coast business. 

‘Your tenacity will not serve you well, miss.’ Mr Cooper said.

‘And why is that, Mr Cooper, because it seems that my tenacity is exactly what has made me the only successful self-made businesswoman in the south.’ Amelia said, her patience running thin as she desperately wanted a moment of silence to just think. It’s not just about the business anymore.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but her gut whispered to her. Something was behind their words, something they knew beyond the negotiations. They had made it all too easy for her. One million dollars, or team up with Cornwall? Something wasn’t right at all. 

‘Tenacity does not keep you alive, Miss,’ Mr Cooper said.

‘Sir, mind your tone,’ Mr Jameson said.

‘I have had quite enough of this nonsense both here and on my estate.’ Amelia said. ‘And I assure you, gentlemen, if you continue to partake in this manner of discussions or any other actions against my estate, you will be met with force time and time again.’ 

She met Mr Cooper’s gaze, a look which he held full malice in. A challenge and a dare for her to carry on. 

Amelia had heard of wild beasts in the British Raj, a giant cat with orange fur and black stripes. She would hear the men from her childhood speak of hunting them and turning them into rugs, as they were the greatest conquest on earth. Bigger than lions, a solitary creature that would hide in jungles and rip villages apart once the cover of darkness had fallen. At that moment, she knew who the tiger was in the opulent hotel, and it certainly wasn’t her. 

‘Mr Cornwall has an associate,’ Mr Cooper said, his eyes glistening with the promise of a kill. ‘I believe you may know of him, a Mr Fairfax. Need I remind you again of your situation as a spinster, you are legally still the property of Mr Fairfax.’  

She could feel the heat from Mr Jameson, but was thankful that his diligence kept him from looking at her. Another series of questions she would no doubt have to answer. She felt sick as her stomach turned inside of her, giving her that awful feeling that she was falling. Although she was grateful, she was able to hold her composure a lot better than the last time her father’s name was brought up. 

There was a small part of her that even expected Mr Cooper to play this card, if she was being quite honest. 

‘I am no such thing, sir. Mr Fairfax, whomever he may be, is sorely mistaken in who he believes me to be.’ Amelia said, her voice a hell of a lot calmer than what she truly felt. ‘This is America, and my guardianship, if you wish to speak in legal matters, is with that of Mr Trelawny.’ 

‘Ah, yes, Mr Trelawny. I believe he has had a meeting today with some friends of a Mr Stoudemire.’ Mr Cooper said. 

Amelia stood slowly, standing over the men with a gaze she felt was so scathing it could melt metal. Amelia had tolerance for many matters, but she would not be manipulated through her kinship with Josiah. 

‘Your threats once again remain empty and uninteresting.’ She said, a fire burning in the pit of her stomach, ‘my business will continue to operate. I am not a woman to be bought with either money or intimidation. Mr Cooper, if I see you at my residence again, I will consider it an act of trespassing. Please tell Mr Cornwall that perhaps he should look at a map more often, for there is plenty of room in America and plenty of trees. Mr Jameson, shall we?’ 

She waited for no retort and no good days. Although Mr Hornbrook scrambled to his feet as she left, Mr Cooper remained seated, and she felt his eyes on the back of her every step of the way. 

‘Ma’am, I do not like that gentleman or his tone,’ Mr Jameson said, as they walked up the pavement towards a stationed carriage waiting for their next patron. 

‘No, neither do I. I will admit that I am concerned, though. We need to get back to the estate immediately and find Uncle.’ Amelia said, a slight shake in her voice. 

If what Mr Cooper said was true, and she had no reason to believe he was lying about this - or anything else for that matter - she feared the situation she would find her uncle in. 

‘What did those men mean, ma’am. Seems I’m missing some details.’ Mr Jameson said.

‘You are, Mr Jameson.’ Amelia sighed. ‘I fear that my life before coming to America is catching up with me.’ She felt cold, far colder than she should have felt for the middle of June in Saint Denis. 

‘Ma’am?’ Mr Jameson said.

‘I will tell you, in good time. Just… one problem at a time.’ Amelia said, as he guided her into the carriage.

Taking a deep breath, Amelia scrunched her hands together in her lap, looking up at the leather ceiling. 

‘Perhaps we need to look into more guards.’ Mr Jameson said, his bushy silver eyebrows folded together in concern. It had been a trying few months for them all and she knew that Mr Jameson was the sort to take on those burdens with a particularly personal responsibility. It was admirable really, if not another thing to be added to her list of worries. 

‘I am confident in our security, Mr Jameson.’ Amelia said, trying to find some composure. Some answer in her own mind, but there was nothing. She felt that her head had been taken over by wasps, buzzing and angry, smashing into every corner of her skull in the same vein that they threw themselves at the windows in the last month of summer. 

‘What about when me and Talako leave?’ Mr Jameson said.

She knew it wasn’t his fault, but she was growing rather inpatient with Mr Jameson. She knew he cared deeply, but God, she just needed a moment to think clearly. 

‘I’m sure Mr Morgan can handle things at the estate.’ Amelia said, her voice more curt than she intended as she gazed out the window into the smoggy side streets of the city that nestled in the swamps. 

‘Seems there’s been a lot of trouble since he came around.’ He said, his face passive, but she knew all too well his dislike of Arthur. 

‘What are you trying to say to Mr Jameson?’ She replied, turning towards him with narrow eyes. She knew she was being mean spirited, but she feared the last few days had pushed her over the edge into some delirious state. 

‘Nothing by it, ma’am, just an observation.’ Mr Jameson said, clearly sensing the strain from Amelia. 

‘Good, keep it that way. Uncle trusts him and he’s proved very useful since he has been employed.’ 

‘Ma’am, maybe all this suggestion of getting married might be something worth considering. If there’s a personal vendetta here, it could buy you some time.’ Mr Jameson said. 

She couldn’t believe her ears. Almost feeling the rage boil to the surface, she took a deep breath, calming herself and the shake of her hands. After a moment, she spoke softer this time. 

‘It’s doubtful. Besides, I would rather sell before I sign everything over for free to some extortionist.’ Amelia said.

‘Of course, ma’am, I didn’t mean anything by it.’ Mr Jameson said.

‘I know, Mr Jameson.’ Amelia said.

‘I admire you, ma’am, I really do. I hope my daughters will grow to be someone like you.’ Mr Jameson said.

She smiled despite herself. Mr Jameson was a much more personable man than even she sometimes gave him credit for. 

‘That’s very touching, Mr Jameson. I hope they too learn that they can succeed in the world on their own merits.’ Amelia said.

‘Oh, I have no doubt about that.’ Mr Jameson said.

‘Hopefully, with this venture to West Elizabeth, it could give us another advantage. Anything would be a win at the moment. I just hope Uncle is okay.’ Amelia said, her mind still reeling from what on earth he was doing with Mr Stoudemire or his associates in the first place. 

‘Who was that man they were speaking of? Mr Stremer?’ Mr Jameson said.

‘Stoudemire. Another ghost from my past I fear.’ Amelia said with a heavy sigh, growing wearisome from all these men trying to force their way back into her life in one capacity or another.

‘Is he dangerous?’ Mr Jameson said.

‘I’m beginning to think anyone linked to Mr Cornwall is dangerous, quite frankly. But how he’s involved with him, I’m not too sure…. You see…’ Amelia faltered, unable to formulate the right words, but Mr Jameson deserved some explanation at the very least. ‘Mr Stoudemire, he was… a friend of my father’s back in England.’ 

Before she could even decide whether to continue, Mr Jameson interrupted her, placing a tentative and unsure hand over hers. 

‘Then we should hurry.’ Mr Jameson said.

‘Quite.’ Amelia said.

His hand lingered for only a moment, and Mr Jameson was a cordial man, not one for affection, well at least not in a professional situation. She would count him as family as much as the others, but naturally, they did not share the same familiarity that she and Josiah shared. It was touching regardless, and she gave him a weak smile. Perhaps Mr Jameson was perfectly capable of reading between the lines, and had made his own connections through what he had seen and heard regarding Amelia’s past. 

Not that she really minded if he did. He was as loyal as a hound, for which she was eternally grateful. 

‘I’m still not sure if this is the best time for me and Talako to be leaving the estate, ma’am.’ Mr Jameson said.

‘No, perhaps not. But I fear we haven’t got too much of a choice at this time. The business must come first, above all else.’ Amelia said.

‘Very well, ma’am.’ Mr Jameson said.

The journey felt long, much longer than it was in reality and when they finally arrived at the estate, Amelia made little time as she slammed the door behind her before Mr Jameson could aid her as she shoved some bills into the driver’s hand. 

Her heart entered her throat, and she nearly tripped over her damn dress as she saw Mrs Fearnsby standing on the porch, her hands wringing at her apron. 

‘Mrs Fearnsby, what’s the matter?’ Amelia said, her voice rose as she rushed towards the estate. 

‘Please ma’am, there’s no cause for alarm, but there has been an incident.’ Mrs Fearnsby said, her face taut, more so than usual, and Amelia already had her suspicions. 

The front door opened, as Arthur stepped out, his imposing figure casting a long shadow on the wooden beams of the porch as his hat rested low on his brow. 

‘Arthur, what is it? What happened?’ Amelia said as her heart beated furiously, as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

‘Your Uncle, he’s been hurt, but he’s doin’ okay.’ Arthur said.

It was her worst fear as Amelia carried on right up to Arthur, searching his face for something, anything. 

‘Where is he?’ Amelia said, desperate to make sense of this. She knew he hadn’t been hurt by a simple horse riding accident. 

Was this what Cornwall and her father were going to resort to? It wasn’t enough to punish her but everyone else she was close to. Was it their plan to threaten, beat and kill them one by one until they strong-armed her into exactly what they wanted?

‘Restin’, ma’am.’ Arthur said, but she barely heard the words as she looked over her shoulder to Mr Jameson, a look of equal concern on his face. 

‘He’s been placed in his room. A little bit sore, but he is asleep at the moment.’ Mrs Fearnsby said.

She looked between the three of them. How was everyone so damn calm? 

‘That doesn’t tell me what on earth happened,’ Amelia said, her voice bordering on yelling. It wasn’t often that Amelia raised her voice, but she had no control over herself. 

‘Amelia, he’s okay. Just had a… misunderstanding at a saloon.’ Arthur said, his arm nearly reaching out to her, before placing it on his gun belt. 

‘What do you mean?’ Amelia said, barely understanding Arthur’s words. 

‘Couple of fellers were drunk, thought he was someone else.’ Arthur said with a simple shrug. 

‘Mr Morgan, we will speak of this in private.’ Amelia said, trying her best to get her head in order as she pushed past him into the house. 

Amelia reached the study so quickly she was sure at one point she was taking the stairs two at a time. She could hear Arthur behind her, but could barely look at him. The day was proving to be testing to say the least. 

Her shaking hands reached for the decanter and she left the door open, waiting for Arthur to enter. She poured two healthy and ill-advised measures into the glass, the whiskey splashing over the side and over her fingers, leaving a cool, sticky trace. 

‘Arthur, I want to make it perfectly clear, if you are lying to me…’ Amelia said as she heard him enter cautiously, shoving the whiskey at him. 

‘Whaddya mean?’ Arthur said, as he removed his hat, a look of almost amusement on his features. God, she wanted to slap him there and then. 

‘Are you lying to me?’ Amelia said more firmly, in no mood for games or jokes as she swallowed heavily at her drink. 

‘Look, Amelia, he’s okay. Just a bit beat up.’ Arthur said, almost nonchalant as she walked to the door and slammed it shut. 

‘“A bit beat up” for god’s sake Arthur, this is serious!’ Amelia said, her voice becoming shrill as she took another gulp, almost choking on the liquor’s heat. 

‘I know, I know.’ Arthur said, as he too followed suit, swallowing thickly. 

‘I know he was with some men on behalf of Mr Stoudemire.’ Amelia said. ‘And I know you’re lying.’ 

She could have spat fire, kicked and screamed at him. Why was he lying? Did he have something to do with this?

She felt herself slipping as she turned her back to him, finding her way to her seat at the desk, her hands falling into her face. Perhaps this was her undoing. Perhaps it is what would finally would turn her as mad as all the men of town supposed she was? 

‘How you know that?’ Arthur said. 

‘Unimportant. What happened?’ Amelia said into her hands, her breath becoming more ragged by the second. 

He said nothing, and as she reached again for her drink and her smoke. He just looked at her with a near blank expression. 

‘Is it something to do with the robbery’ Amelia said, as she struggled with her lighter from her hands shaking. On the third click, the flame shot out, and she hastily lit the cigarette, throwing the metal lighter down. 

‘Hell if I know. Look okay, it was some bounty hunters, but listen -’

‘Bounty hunters?! What the fuck, Arthur,’ Amelia said, growing more hysterical by the second. 

‘It was a misunderstandin’ all the same. They thought he was someone else. It’s been dealt with.’ 

How was he so damn calm about all of this?

‘What does that mean?’Amelia said, punctuating every word, as she took a swig, a puff, then another swig. 

‘I mean, it’s been dealt with.’ Arthur said, his voice firm and dark. 

‘Arthur, what aren’t you telling me? How is it that one of Cornwall’s men knew Uncle was with them?’ She was sure the staff could hear her from the other side of the door, not that she particularly cared. 

‘I don’t… I ain’t sure.’ Arthur said. 

Resting her forehead on the heel of her palm, Amelia shook her head, hoping it would clear the cobwebs that had somehow formed. If only she could think straight… 

For what felt like the thousandth time of the day, she took a deep breath, steadying herself. 

Uncle is alive. That is the most important thing. You can’t let them win.

‘There’s a man, the awful sort.’ She stuttered, ‘works for Cornwall, I was with him today and he said that Uncle had a meeting or sorts but the way he said it…’ Amelia said, chewing at her lip as Arthur stood, finding his way to her side of the desk. 

‘You think Cornwall’s behind the robbery?’ He said, kneeling down on his haunches as Amelia almost wanted to ignore him. 

‘Well, why not?’ She seethed as she turned to look down at him, his blue eyes coursing like the ocean. ‘He’s been trying to buy me out for months, then he doesn’t even attend this meeting, brings up Stoudemire and now Uncle is beaten. This can’t be a coincidence.’ Amelia said pitifully, sniffing as she took another large swig of her drink. 

‘Mmm, somethin’ don’t seem right.’ Arthur said, rubbing at his stubble with his hand.

‘Oh, you think?’ Amelia said, throwing her hand in the air with exasperation.

‘C’mon Amelia. This ain’t my fault. We found your uncle and he will be okay, just sore for a while.’ Arthur said. 

‘Who’s we?’ 

‘Me and Charles.’

Amelia wanted to chide herself. Arthur was right. This wasn’t his fault and once again he was a candle in the ever-growing darkness around her. 

‘Arthur, I think I know who’s behind this, I just…’ taking a drag that turned half her cigarette to white hot ash, Amelia sighed as the smoke filled the room. Arthur placed his hand on her knee, giving it a slight squeeze. 

‘Talk to me,’ he said, so gently she was mistaken if she had heard him correctly. It reminded her of the way that one would talk to a spooked horse, soft but firm. 

She felt so uneasy, so sick with the situation that seemed to become her never ending reality. Her trust was thin, but she couldn’t do this alone anymore. And if Josiah had ended up worse… God forbid, she needed a contingency plan. The secrets that both her and uncle were theirs alone, and he had always cautioned her against telling anyone. So far she had kept that unspoken promise, an abandoned life that, in her childish mind, she thought would simply disappear as long as she never spoke of it. 

Perhaps it was the stress of the day that made her feel so paranoid, but as she stubbed out the remnants of her cigarette, she stood as Arthur did the same. 

‘Not here,’ she said, finishing her drink, ‘are you familiar with Ringneck Creek?’ 

Arthur gave a small nod, his eyes not leaving her face. She didn’t dare think about what his face made her think about, not with everything that was going on. But it would have been easy to fall into those stormy eyes of his and never think about anything else again. 

‘Meet me there in an hour,’ she said, looking away from him.

‘Okay, one hour,’ he nodded solemnly, giving her arm a small squeeze as he left, leaving her to her thoughts. 

She knew she wasn’t thinking clearly, at a time she arguably needed it the most. She had always had this problem. Once a thought burrowed into her, there was nothing else but that single railroad in her mind. 

Amelia was unsure whether she was subconsciously blind to it all, choosing to ignore the dots, or whether perhaps she was nowhere near as intellectual as she thought she was. But that niggle she had since the first robbery, since her first meeting with Mr Cooper and certainly after today only made her confront what she had known deep down for sometime. 

She made her way to Josiah’s room, rasping her knuckles lightly across the wooden door. She heard no response but let herself in any way. A candle burned gently on the drawers with the curtains closed. The smell of iodine and salt filled the room and she gently walked over to the bed where he lay. 

There was already a chair propped close to it, presumably from where one of the servants had spent their time cleaning him with the washbasin and a freshly filled jug of water that stood on the end table. 

She could hear his laboured breathing, his black hair falling across his brown as his face was a molten of purple and yellow. Although it was not as bad as she supposed, there was something about seeing her uncle in such a way that made her realise the mortality of it all. How fragile they all truly were. 

Her uncle was not a strong man in the traditional sense. He wasn’t one to raise a gun or boom his voice at defiance. But he was strong nevertheless. As slick as a newt, she had always thought of him as. Mystical and illusive to the world, but never to her. Not really. He was her confident, her guide and protector, her best friend and mentor. No doubt that without him, sooner or later she would have been shipped off to one of the specialised women's infirmaries or even dead. But not with Josiah. 

Yes, he was odd, but none of that really mattered. Not then and not now. But as she sat on the chair, folding her skirt underneath her knees, she leant her elbows on the bed, looking up at his newly beaten face, watching his chest rise and fall as though all the wind had been knocked from him. 

A single tear rolled down her cheek, thick and heavy, as she wiped at it furiously. She was about to break their promise, but he at least deserved to know from her lips.

‘I’m sorry, Uncle,’ she mused under her breath, placing her hand on his chest as she had seen mothers do to their sick children, ‘I don’t know if you can hear me, but keeping our secret cannot do us any good any longer. You brought Arthur here because you trust him… You trust him to keep us safe. And…’

What were the words? There were no words she could think of and words she had only seen in those books filled with dross and unfettered romance, but she was sure in her convictions. 

‘We need him,’ she said, I need him. But she kept that part to herself. There was only so much Josiah needed to know. 

‘The business is everything to me. I need to do what I can to protect it.’ 

He made a sound, a choking sound in his throat as he began to splutter, coughing with a wince as his eyes screwed shut even more so. 

‘C…Caneton?’ He said, barely audible. 

‘Uncle?’ she replied, finding his hand in haste and bringing it to her lips. 

‘There’s… there’s,’ his voice strangled as he weakly grabbed at her hand, ‘too many secrets.’

He said nothing else as his breath returned to its even and slow draw as he fell back into a sudden slumber. 

Smiling to herself in pain, she rose and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. 

‘Sleep well, Uncle,’ 

Before she had left, she had given stern instructions that Josiah was to be checked on every half an hour and to be kept as clean as possible. She knew the staff were as good as any, and she had seen it enough times, but at least giving the instructions made her feel in control of the situation. She told Cook to save her portion of supper, for she feared she would not be back in time for serving and that Mr Jameson and Talako should make plans on their trips to West Elizabeth and be prepared to give her a report upon her return. 

If nothing else, she was thankful for some alone time, just her and Tallulah as she made her way north to Ringneck Creek. 

It turned out to be a beautiful late afternoon as the heat had finally dropped, giving way to a light breeze with wispy clouds breaking into the sky, offering some release from the stifling warmth and humidity. Of course, as it always did, it brought the annoyance of midges and mosquitoes, but as she left the swamps behind, they became fewer and further between. 

Passing Mattock Pond, she knew there was little of the ride left, and almost fearing the conversation she was about to have with Arthur, she clacked at the bridle bringing Tallulah into a sauntered as she heard the low growl of an alligator not too far away. 

The woods and thickets around her sieved out the sun, splitting it into golden beams in the way she always loved. Despite it all, she couldn’t help but breathe in the air, a soft smile appearing on her face in that moment of peace. Of course, she knew it was not enough to solve her problems as much as she would entertain the thought of selling it all and growing old in the woods with nothing but an axe and a shack that fell apart at the seams. 

But Amelia, however, was not that sort of woman. She was a woman of purpose, one who was lucky enough to find it and one who would not let it wash down the kitchen sink. 

As Tallulah threw her head between the tree trunks, the birds sang their afternoon song as the racoons rustled and nattered amongst the ground.

Making her way up the creek, Amelia searched around for Arthur and Montague, her heart building with both excitement and trepidation. She was never one to be so cavalier with her emotions, with her past especially, but she reminded herself this wasn’t about her or about them. It was about the business, about those she had made a secret pact with God to protect. Once again, her uncle was right. There were too many damn secrets. 

As she reached the end of the creek where the brooked turned into a splay of shallow water, she saw him. Perched on a boulder, he had his foot propped on the rock, the other leg dangling as he puffed on his smoke that danced in sunbeams. She heard a plop in the water as he threw his arm back, skipping stones across the surface. 

She couldn’t help but smile. She was not unfamiliar with the flights of fancy that most women had, the idle daydreams of the man she wound no doubt end up marrying and spawning a child or four. But never in her wildest dreams was it to be a man like Arthur Morgan that her heart would be claimed by. In all her endeavours, not one made her feel so enamoured, or to be so much like those fainting maids on a couch. Not that she was, of course, but she was damn close. 

‘I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,’ she said, sliding off of the side of her horse as he looked up at her from the brim of his hat. 

‘Not at all,’ he said, returning her smile as he pushed himself from the rock, pacing over towards her. 

She appreciated the chivalry as always, even though it seemed so unlike a man like him. Yet he was as gracious as those who had been taught such things, and then she wondered where a man like Arthur had learnt it from. He was as wild as the bobcats of the mountain, quick with a gun and so dirty that sometimes she thought he would use mud instead of cologne. All of it, however, was part of his charm. The charm of America and the wild. 

As she readjusted her habit as Arthur tied up her horse on a nearby trunk near Montague, the horses nicked at each other. Well, Tallulah did anyway, the temperamental beast that she was. Montague took it in his stride, neighing softly in a greeting as though it was almost expected. 

He shrugged his jacket from his shoulders, pulling the sleeves down his arm. In an instant, her heart began to thrum in her chest. What is he…? And just like that, he gave it a swift shake, placing it on the boulder and gesturing for her to sit. 

‘Thank you,’ she muttered, attempting to hide her blushing cheeks beneath her curls as she took to the rock, crossing her ankles. 

Arthur, however, returned to his horse, unbuckled the saddle and retrieved a bottle of a ruby brown liquid she did not recognise. Making his way back to her, he popped the cork, taking a swig before handing it to her. 

‘What is it?’ She said curiously, holding it up to the light. It truly was a beautiful colour, almost a light coloured port. 

‘Guarma Rum, hard to come by, hell of a lot better than that Kentucky Bourbon,’ he said with a smirk, pulling a fresh smoke from his packet. Placing two in his mouth, he lit them both from the match that he struck across the bottom of his shoe. 

Giving it a sniff, Amelia was not as repelled as she would have thought. It was strong as the fumes burned her eyes, but it had a sweetness to it, like hibiscus and sugar cane, but she had no doubt that it packed a punch. 

Taking a tentative swig. She wasn’t wrong. It kicked at her throat, but by no means it was unpleasant and Arthur didn’t take his eyes from her as he held out the cigarette. 

‘That’s certainly the best thing that’s happened today, I must admit,’ she said with a slight laugh, wiping at the corners of her mouth. 

‘Thought you’d need it,’ he said, taking the bottle from her and propping his foot on a rogue log, folding his elbows across his knees. ‘You gonna tell me then?’ 

She met his gaze, almost unsure of herself. She couldn’t help but slump her shoulders in, almost recoiling from the question. Once again, she had found herself emotionally vulnerable, alone, and sharing a bottle with Arthur. Life could be ironically cruel sometimes. 

With a breath to steady herself, Amelia looked on at the thicket before her. It truly was beautiful. A place she wished she had more time to visit. Perhaps after all this nonsense, she’d make more time to visit it with a book in hand. But today was not that day. 

‘I know who’s behind the attacks,’ she said as Arthur straightened, eyeing her up and down with some sort of scrutiny. ‘ I don’t have proof but… It’s complicated.’

She nervously looked at him, trying to gauge him. She wasn’t scared per se, but she didn’t want to think that she was stupid or hysterical or whatever other words men tended to lend towards themselves when it came to women. Not that Arthur was like that, of course. 

‘Cornwall?’ he said, narrowing his eyes. A look flashed across him, one she had seen before and equally brief. 

‘In a roundabout sort of way. Now, like I said, I don’t have any proof but -’

‘Tell me,’ he said with a low grumble. 

That was exactly what she didn’t want. She knew he was not angry with her, but after today; she didn’t need any outbursts, any snap judgements. She just wanted to tell him, as difficult as it would be. 

‘It’s…’ Amelia stopped herself, as Arthur passed her the rum, for which she was thankful. As her fingers brushed his ever so slightly, he sat next to her, pulling another drag on the cigarette. 

‘There’s a man, Mr Cooper. I mentioned him earlier. He’s a man that is not to be taken lightly. A thug I presume of Cornwall’s,’ she said, almost stumbling over her words as they shot out. ‘He has this awful way about him… Anyway, some time ago he came to the estate on behalf of Cornwall, made some threats, tactics of intimidation, nothing utterly out of the ordinary but…’

Where to even begin, the story was so long, so convoluted at this point and at times Amelia doubted her memory on what had or hadn’t happened and how much her mind had inflated or hidden away in those secret boxes at the back of her mind. 

She took another swig of the bottle, a slow feeling of comfort wrapping over her. There truly was something about being amongst the trees and fresh air once the alcohol took hold. She felt like a child again, the word bright and curious. 

Arthur, however, said nothing, as she struggled to find all the pieces. In her mind, she was so sure, but as soon as she began speaking, it all seemed so daft. 

‘Well, anyway, he mentioned my father. Said that he sends his regards,’ she sighed, drinking another two gulps before passing the bottle back to Athur. ‘It’s him Arthur, I know it is.’ 

Arthur flicked the butt of his cigarette, holding his silence. She had a feeling it was a tactic of his. No questions, no judgements. Oddly, it seemed to be working and Amelia suddenly felt compelled to tell him all. 

‘I was seventeen when I found out I was to be wed to Mr Stoudemire,’ she said, the words falling from her lips, God, I am drunk already, ‘I knew him very briefly, he worked with my father in Parliament.’ 

Arthur raised a brow as she looked up at him from underneath her lashes. 

‘It’s the English government. They’re all bankers, aristocrats and well anyway…’ That rum was strong, ‘He was so old, at least in his forties. I cried for a week when my mother told me not that she cared. She just said that I should be lucky that anyone agreed to it. She was so awful for her words, would tell me I was never good enough, that I brought shame to the family in one capacity or another, but Father… He was…’ 

She swallowed. Scrambling for another cigarette. 

‘After I found out about this arrangement, I ran to this place, not unlike this really. A friend of mine, Edmund, we would play there often. Write poems that sort of thing. He lived on the estate next to ours… Well.’ 

Giving another sharp intake of breath, Amelia looked around the forest, finding those small alcoves of beauty anywhere she could. 

‘I was found with him. It was quite unsavoury at our age to be alone with one another, you see. My father dragged me back to the house by my hair and beat me so hard I bled for days and couldn’t sit. He was the sort of man that even when I was a small girl he would find his way to my bedroom when he had enough wine and whack me so hard… He was a terrible man. But after that incident, after Edmund, my arm was broken, I had welts on the back of my legs - I couldn’t leave my room, and even after five weeks when Josiah came to visit…’ 

Silence hung in the air, as Arthur continued to look at her, not a word of pity or anything, but she could see something so dark in his eyes she nearly recoiled. 

‘I was his property. My father’s I mean,’ Amelia stammered. Years of the secrets and the relief it brought her seemed to merge together into a terrible shake as she broke into a sob. Wiping at her nose, Arthur placed his arm around her, pulling her in close as he rested his chin on the top of her head. The smell of his sweat and rum and smoke, the usual comfort he brought her, filled her as she sank into his chest. 

‘He’s a monster Arthur, I don’t know how they’re connected, but it’s him, I know it.’ 

‘Hey,’ he said, putting his finger under her chin and lifting her face to look at him. The same way he did last night. ‘We will fix this.’

That was all she needed to hear. She smiled at him as he brought his thumb to her cheeks, wiping away her tears. 

‘It’s not about money, Arthur. They want to destroy me. My father was a proud and powerful man. I don’t know how he’s found me after all the precautions we took, but he has.’

Arthur nodded, passing her the rum again. 

‘Well, then…’ He began, still with his arm wrapped around her as Amelia snuggled deeper into him, bringing her knees to her chest. ‘’Spose, we just have to destroy them first.’ 

She wanted to laugh, but she could sense the devilry in his words. Was this what she wanted? To meet fire with fire? Is that something she was prepared for? Something rumbled within her, and at that moment, with the alcohol with the promises that Arthur whispered to her, she thought that she could sanction such things. But whatever those things were, she kept to herself at that moment. 

The silence found itself between them yet again. A silence she had grown used to, as a small fox kit ran out to the edge of the creek, followed by its siblings as they lapped at the edge of the water like a cat with a fresh bowl of cream. Their mother wasn’t far behind as neither of them moved, watching the young find their solace in the soon to be evening light. Their mother gazed at them, hungry and fearful, as Arthur reached into his pocket, pulling out an oatcake. 

Breaking it into several pieces, he slowly released his embrace for which any other time, Amelia would have been disappointed by. Yet as he bent his knees and slowly crept towards the edge of the creek, he scattered the crumbs, and made his way back to the rock as silently as he left it. 

The three kits raised their tiny noses to their air, their marbled brown and auburn fur moving with the wind. Arthur sat back down next to Amelia, pulling something else from his pocket. As she looked over at him curiously with another swig of the rum, she saw it was a pencil and he leant gently and quietly to his satchel on the floor. She watched him with a juvenile curiosity, smiling to herself with a new weightlessness, as Arthur pulled a small leather-bound book from the bag. 

He flicked it open with his thumb, licking at the pencil, as the rough edges of the pages sprawled to a blank canvas page. 

He drew effortlessly, a line here, a line there, and with the smudge of his thumb and a crosshatch, the image jumped to life. The creek, the trees, the foxes and all the surrounding light. He seemed to do it with nothing other than instinct. Looking up here and there before, one of the kits barked, chasing the others back into the grove. 

She smiled again, admiring his talent as he closed the book as easily as he had opened it before, storing it away and prying the bottle from her hands. 

How things had changed since their encounter in the stable. Even since last night, there was a change between them. As easy as he had drawn the lines on the paper. Natural, easy and oh so wonderful. 

‘You know,’ he began, lighting another smoke, ‘my daddy used to belt seven hells into me. Damn mean bastard. Used to beat my mother too, what I remember of her.’ 

Amelia swallowed the saliva from her throat. Whatever the hell that rum was, it certainly wasn’t weak. 

‘Lot of mean bastards out there. Hell, I’m one of them,’ he chuckled, passing the bottle back to her. 

She looked at him curiously. Arthur was a lot of things, but she could never imagine him beating a child. Those who did were certainly the cruellest of the cruel. There were men who stole, cheated and lied. Some because they could, because they were greedy or didn’t even have much of a choice. But even most drew that moral line. A line that children were innocent, a compass that was not to be reckoned with. But she knew the truth of this world, even if what she saw was just a fraction of it. 

The unjust held her in a chokehold. Her empathy was the thing that drove her, drove her to stop the world from being what it was. She was to protect, to serve, to help. And through it all, no matter how different she and Arthur were on the surface, that was most likely the thing that drew her to him. His sense of duty, his sense of good. 

‘Arthur,’ she whispered, the rum making her sway slightly. Her mind was true, or so she thought at that moment. Her body may have betrayed her intoxication, but her mind told her that she was right. Hell, it didn’t even matter if she was right, she wanted to tell him.

‘Yeah?’ he said, his foot slipping from the boulder as he passed the rum back towards her. 

‘My name… it’s funny, it’s not even my real name,’ she slurred, her composure slipping by the second, not that she gave a damn. ‘I was born Lady Beatrice Fairfax. For all that it was worth. I never liked the name, anyway.’ 

Arthur turned to her as she readjusted herself on the rock, her heels digging into the dried soil of the mud. Arthur chuckled throatily as he took the bottle from her once more. 

‘Funny that,’ he said, his muddy cheeks blushing ever so slightly. ‘My ma’ was a Beatrice.’ 

She snapped her head around, looking at him in such a cockeyed manner. She was sure she was going to fall over. 

‘That’s not funny!’ she nearly screeched, snatching the cigarette from his fingers and taking a drag before passing it back to him. 

‘Promise,’ he said, a boyish smirk plastered across his face. 

There was something so endearing about him. About all of him. He could go from a mean old cowboy to a cheeky boy at church in the back of the pews. She hated him and loved him in equal measures, and she playfully pushed him on his arm. 

Did I just… think what I thought? 

She was abashed with herself. A man she barely knew had only laid with once, and in that moment she was ready to take his hand and run off into the forest with him and never look back. 

Crossing her arms in some hope of steadying herself, she leant her head on his shoulder. An easy gesture and all the troubles of the day slipped away. As she always did with Arthur, she felt ever so selfish, allowing her problems to dissolve into nothingness as she felt his warmth and strength. 

‘What the hell is the stuff made from?’ she said, eyeing the bottle, tittering away. 

Arthur lifted the bottle. There wasn’t even a third gone and yet, they were both beyond squiffy. 

‘Damned if I know,’ he said. A chortle broke from his chest. She felt the rumble of it, as the air took a sudden sink, the chill of the early evening finally settling in. ‘You wanna head back?’ He said, his voice low and so wonderfully drunkenly seductive? 

Lifting her head, Amelia looked up at him. Maybe it was just because she had already made herself so emotionally vulnerable, the baby foxes, or the fact she was so damn infatuated with Arthur, but she shook her head with the pout of her lips and wide eyes. 

‘Not yet,’ she muttered, as they both broke into a laugh and Arthur crashed his mouth into hers. 

Giggling into his mouth, she absorbed everything he had to offer her. It was wet, sloppy, drunk and so foolish. Not that it really mattered. 

Falling into a tumble on the ground, the leaves crunch beneath Amelia as she let out a gasp underneath Arthur’s weight. 

She felt like a clumsy adolescent, her hands making her way into his hair, knocking off his hat as his fingers dug into thighs, fumbling with her silk stockings. She continued to kiss him feverishly and urgently, the taste of liquor heavy on both of their lips. 

The sun dipped behind the trees, casting a warm glow over them both as Arthur wrestled with this gun belt, he cast it aside, bringing his lips down to her neck as Amelia moaned into Arthur’s ear. 

Pushing his hips into her, Amelia gasped, as her body responded in kind, as she lifted her skirts, whilst his rough hands explored every inch of her body. She felt dizzy, both from the alcohol and him, the pleasure coursing through her in a desperate heat as she felt the heat of his body on hers. 

Her mind was no longer her own as Arthur continued to kiss at her neck, her jaw, everywhere and anywhere he could find as he moved himself lower, leaving a trail of wet kisses on the lace of her dress. 

He pulled at her undergarments, wrestling them from her legs as they tangled around her ankles. She laughed at their eagerness as Arthur chewed his lip, looking down at her. Her heart fluttered at the sight of his as finally he freed her of her drawers, slipping his hand underneath her skirts. 

Her breaths were already coming through in ragged gasps as his fingers found her wet and ready. She cried out as he slid two of his thick fingers into her, as she let out a long mewl into the summer air.

He was gentle at first, letting her get used to the feel of him inside her. She had never felt anything like it before. It was almost indescribable. The alcohol mixed with a sheer audacity of what they were doing, out in the open. He worked the inside of her like an instrument, curving his fingers to find that perfect spot. As if by magic, she was lost to his touch. Her body was his and his alone to command. And when he began to thrust his fingers deep into her core, her body gave in to his demands, writhing and moaning at his mastery of her body.

Just when she thought she was about to be undone right there and then, Arthur brought his mouth down to her, his tongue rolling over her most sensitive parts as she gave a cry of pleasure, her back arching. 

Her hands found their way into his hair as Arthur grabbed at her hips roughly with his free hand, pulling her further into his mouth whilst his fingers moved faster in and out of her.

Amelia felt as though she would go insane from the feeling of release. She wanted more, wanted him to fill her, to give her more of whatever he was doing to her. His fingers were still moving, sending waves of pleasure through her. She felt a tingle between her legs as his tongue pressed harder against her swollen clit, making it throb and ache. 

She was so close to exploding, so close she thought it was going to be impossible to stop herself from crying out loud and yet, as if by instinct, she closed her eyes and bit down hard on her lip as he lifted himself from her, leaving her aching and empty.

‘I want you so much,’ he growled into her ear, and all Amelia could do was moan in response. 

She had never heard a man sound so sensual or so passionate. There wasn’t a word in the English language that could describe it. It was as if a beast was taking her over, a beast that she knew she had no control over and there was no part of her that wanted anything else.

Arthur fiddles with the buttons on his jeans as he bent down to kiss her again, his mouth sweet from her own juices as she mewled into his mouth, seemingly only to encourage him all the more. Before she could even think, he thrusted himself deep inside of her, leaving her breathless as all air seemed to leave her body.

They moved with each other, almost animalistically, their sounds filling the forest whilst their hands grabbing for anything they could. He pounded at her, deep and hard, as Amelia felt the pleasure building as Arthur’s warm breath grunted on her skin. Whatever the rum had done to her felt like a tainted potion, sending the both of them in a debauched frenzy of lust and passion. She was moaning, panting, screaming and shrieking with abandon. All the while, he continued to pound away at her.

Her back arched, and he fell upon her, his lips kissing at her neck, her cheek as he drove himself deeper into her.

In a flash, her orgasm ripped through her like a bolt of lightning from the heavens as a group of birds shot from the trees, retreating from the sound. 

‘Fuck,’ Arthur grunted as he pulled himself in haste from her, his spend landing in thick drops on the ground between her legs. 

Amelia panted, wiping the sweat from her brow as Arthur sat back on his haunches, putting himself away. 

‘You sure you didn’t put something in that rum?’ Amelia said with a breathless laugh. Her eyes were spotted with black dots that danced across her vision as her chest heaved. 

Arthur said nothing as he ran his hand through his hair as he leant over to retrieve her bloomers. 

‘Told ya it was better than Kentucky,’ he said with a smirk as he grabbed at her ankles, putting them through the leg holes of her undergarments, before he stood on uneven legs. 

As Amelia dressed herself, her legs still shaking from their encounter; she hauled herself up, attempting to pick the debris of nature that had found its way into her dress and hair. Twigs, leaves and even a weevil had managed to bury themselves into the lace as her breath slowly abated, leaving a warm tingle of bliss throughout her entire body. 

‘Am I muddy?’ She said to Arthur, attempting to look over her shoulder to see the state of the back of her, but thankfully after a brisk brush of Arthur’s hand, she managed to escape too much incrimination of what they had been up to. 

‘I’ll ride with you back to the estate, but I’ve got some stuff I need to deal with,’ he said hoarsely as he picked up his hat, dusting off the dirt. 

‘Thank you, Arthur. And please… What I said to you -’

‘I ain’t tellin’ no one,’ he said with a warm smile, walking over to her and planting a kiss on her head. ‘But you best get back before the search party comes hollerin’.’ 

She nodded, unsure how she was even going to be able to ride back in her state. 

However, as Arthur knelt, lacing his fingers together as he boosted her onto Tallulah, going back to the estate was the last thing she wanted. Maybe selling the business wouldn’t be the worst idea. Before she could continue her train of thought, Arthur gave her a pat on the side of the thigh. 

‘When you get back,’ he said, sliding the rum into the satchel on her horse, ‘make sure you check your dresser. I left ya a little surprise,’ he said with a wink. 

#blemished silk #the amelia edwards series #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female oc

[aemperatrix]

anyway. not to write fate meta in the year of our lord 2023 or anything but expanding on my previous post—Kirei is genuinely such a fascinating character and this is partly Urobuchi being unhinged but so much of it, of him, was there from conception. Nasu ‘my fetish is this one specific blonde woman but not in a Tarantino way’ really said hee hoo hee hee what if there was an eroge and King Arthur was a girl? and you could bang her? and then Put This Fucking Guy In. and I’m expected to be normal about it.

from his very name, Kirei as in the virtue of beauty, but also as in partial homophone of Kyrie, ‘Lord’, mercy, and the way we’re told his father considered him ‘a gift’, but there’s no mention made, ever, about his mother (I have theories about this and none are particularly pretty) to the fact that he realizes there is something Fundamentally Wrong with him while still a small child, and attempts to correct this, only to ultimately, and erroneously, conclude that joy itself must be a sin, because for him joy is found in the suffering of others. the irony of his name, a name which evokes the idea of light.

the poetry in it, as he is someone who spends his entire life seeking it, a search which concludes in the blazes that engulf Fuyuki.

and speaking of Fuyuki: Urobuchi does a very interesting thing in Zero with the designs of the Command Sigils manifested by each master; they’re very quick visual clues to the nature of the characters that bear them. Kirei’s resemble a dragon.

a Serpent, if you will.

serpent which he is both tempted by (yes, I mean Gilgamesh) and which he himself eventually becomes (as this is his role in Stay/night, regardless of route—he is what we would describe in the context of a fairy tale as ‘The Necessary Evil’.)

he is this to Shirou and he is this to Rin, but he is especially this to Sakura, in my opinion, because while he is not the root cause of her sufferings (that blame lay jointly on Tokiomi and Zouken’s respective doorsteps) he is, indirectly but consciously, their great architect. he is behind the Fire and he is perfectly aware of Zouken’s opportunism in taking the shards of the corrupted Grail and implanting them in Sakura. it’s HIGHLY unlikely that he is not aware of the Matou’s particular style of cultivation and of what is happening to Sakura. he could intervene but he tacitly allows it as by fashioning her into a ‘Dark Grail’, Zouken is unwittingly furthering his agenda.

in Heaven’s Feel last act when they have their confrontation, he explicitly tells Sakura that she has outdone his expectations. how? perhaps by surviving so long to begin with. perhaps because he doubted she would ever exhibit enough greed to go off the deep end; perhaps because she has had such a hard time allowing herself to desire, to be selfish, in the first place.

he considers her an ‘abomination’, but the term is not applied to her character, only to the fact that by that point she is a literal man-eater—otherwise, her psychological profile very much fulfills his criterion of a virtuous woman. he’s fond of her, I genuinely do think. like. he expresses to Shirou that she should be killed, yes, but this is in the context of her aforementioned literal man-eating, in the context of him taunting Shirou, and also in the context of him saying that killing her would be a mercy, that it would save her, both in a literal and metaphysical sense. he seems to genuinely believe that Sakura herself must be disgusted with what she has become and would prefer death to further decay. (and he understands her well enough to not be off the mark: Sakura’s desperate pretense that she has become someone else is a symptom of exactly this self-disgust.)

not that his fondness means anything good, when he is who he is, but still.

also, he can be construed as a paternal figure in relation to both Rin and Sakura, and you’d be tempted to think it is more obvious in Rin’s case, as he is her legal guardian and physically much more present in her life, but I believe it’s Sakura he leaves an indelible print on, specifically because he is yet another (physical) absentee in her life.

Tokiomi’s absenteeism, his giving away of her, taught her that she is easily disposable; Kariya, unintentionally and painfully, taught her that she should bear her lot alone, because anyone who tries to help her is doomed to die. Kirei unintentionally gives her back her autonomy because he manages to make her furious. furious and honest. he makes her into what she is and he also makes her face herself.

he assumes the position of an indifferent, cruel, perversely loving God and fashions in her his own sullied Marian analogue: he saves her life despite himself because he is a priest and letting the thing inside her die would be a mortal sin—or so he claims. ultimately he saves her life because she is, in an oblique but very real way, pregnant with his child.

and I’m expected to be normal and stable and SANE!

#anyway. anyway!!! #the only way thing i would've added to...whatever fucked-up thing it is these two have. would've been Sakura physically reaching inside him #to crush his heart. like that's the only thing that could have possibly made this more delicious than it is.

[moireia]

BEIFONGS! Please, tell me more about jae shin!!!

LoK (season 1 specifically) holds a special place in my heart. When I rewatched it a few years ago, I saw the dysfunction of the second generation (Tenzin and Lin specifically) and thought “why not explore that more? Also I thought of the question: “what would it be like to be a nonbender when your family legacy is built upon bending?” Thus Jae Shin Beifong was created. Jae Shin is very dear to me; her character has undergone a few changes, but I’m obsessed with her and her complex relationships with her family and the greater cast of lok. 

Backstory: Jae Shin is the daughter of Tenzin and Lin Beifong, making her the granddaughter of Aang, Katara, and Toph. Jae Shin is about 13 years than Jinora, meaning that for most of Jae Shin’s childhood, she was only child and all of Tenzin’s hopes and expectations about the future of the Air Nation were singularly put on Jae Shin. She was born before Aang died and has quite a few memories of him and his stories about the events of atla, which makes her even more determined to carry on the legacies of her grandparents. 

A mostly happy childhood shifted once Aang died. Tenzin and Lin’s relationship started to fall apart, and the differences in what they wanted in life finally reached a tipping point. Tenzin felt the weight of legacy all the more now as the last airbender and he worked harder to try to train Jae Shin and force her airbending. Then Tenzin married Pema, and the birth of Jinora soon followed. There was another shift in Jae Shin’s relationship with Tenzin when Jinora airbent for the first time at an extremely young age. His attention then focused solely on Jinora, and eventually the rest of the airbending kids. It hurt Jae Shin but she internalized it all and didn’t let anyone see any glimpse of her pain. She really wanted to be an airbender, and it took her a long while to accept that she would never be one. She struggled with this throughout her teen years, but when she was 17, she was literally visited by the spirit of Yue. 

After that, Jae Shin decided she needed a break from Air Temple Island, so she moved to the South Pole to live with her Aunt Kya and attend the local university. Jae Shin made frequent visits to the compound to visit her grandmother Katara and Avatar Korra (Jae Shin is a great big sister, and treats Korra like one of her siblings). Jae Shin’s studies focused on Avatar Kyoshi and the Kyoshia warriors. During this time away, Jae Shin was able to heal, her nonbending become more of a scar than a wound. 

When Jae Shin returned to Republic City, she initially started working at the city’s museum but then became a secretary at City Hall in order to help her father with his position as Councilman. Not long after, she was approached by Amon who tried to recruit her to the Equalist movement as she was the nonbender granddaughter of Avatar Aang. Jae Shin refused to join but she was curious about Amon, so while she made it clear that she wasn’t signing up, she invited him into further conversation. This resulted in secret, weekly talks. Jae Shin was attempting to live up to Aang’s example, who befriended his enemy, most notably Zuko. She believed in some aspects of the Equalists (very aware of there being tension between benders and non) and wanted to see if she can find some kind of ground to negotiate a more peaceful movement. Meanwhile, Amon still thought she could become a powerful voice in the movement and wanted to sway her to the Equalists. However, these talks slowly stopped becoming about their own agenda and created an unexpected kind of friendship, even though they shouldn’t be so fond of the other. By the time season one starts, they have been speaking to each other for over a year, and Korra’s arrival in Republic City changes everything.

(Here is where I admit I have and always will be a villain fucker. A complex backstory, intense personality/charisma, and a deep voice are weaknesses. Also, there is so much potential nuance in the equalist storyline that was just never dived into in the show, especially when all of the canonical issues between benders and non were completely dropped after s1….so Jae Shin’s story is a way of exploring all of that. And also just this idea of forbidden secret friendship (where they are both suppressing any deeper feelings because even just friendship is dangerous sets my brain on fire. It’s alll about pining for what you know you shouldn’t want and divided loyalty.)

Personality: When people meet Jae Shin, they expect either another version of her father (stoic, wise Airbender) or of her mother (blunt, uncompromising metalbender). Instead, Jae Shin is very charming with a good sense of humor and sweet-tempered nature. Katara remarks on how much Jae Shin reminds her of Aang and Jae Shin tries to best to emulate her grandfather. She’s highly intelligent, diligent, ambitious, and observant. But Jae Shin wears her geniality like a mask to hide the remnants of bitterness and insecurity from growing up as a nonbender when her father (and really the world) wanted her to be an airbender. She has this sense of perfectionism when it comes to her appearance, always wanting to stay composed and friendly, even if it means she is suppressing her own anger or pain. She has a loving and soft heart, but a spine of steel. She is incredibly stubborn, but in subtle ways, because she is stubborn about internal things. 

#jae shin asks #jae shin beifong #fic: faultlines #thank you so much for asking about her! #i could rant endlessly about her and the complexities of her relationships

[a-e-redacted]

WARNING: This ask contains ranting, gushing, and definite spoilers for Chapter 10 of Moonshadow. Reader discretion is advised.

—

That. Was. AWESOME!!!

First of all, I l o v e d that little moment between King and Hunter. I’d love to see those two bond/reconcile a bit in S3 of the show, even though I know we might not have time for that. 😞

Secondly, that banter between Adrian and Darius? *chef kiss* 👌 Gold. I’ve had a strong feeling those two would produce nothing but peak entertainment if they were given a chance to bounce off one another, and this moment proves that right!

Thirdly, the Titan Trappers. The way they returned?? Adrenaline rush. A really good one. They come in at an already tense moment where you probably wouldn’t expect them, and then, BAM! Immediate chaos and action, and it’s all d e l i c i o u s .

Fourthly, the Collector. *deep inhale*

What made you wake up and choose violence on all our heartstrings. /positive

That was??? HhhHHHHH my heart hurts for the little guy so mUCH- you can just FEEL his trauma and raw emotions in your SOUL… and Eda was going full owl mom and just kept trying to comfort them-

My heart has melted and evaporated. Amazing work; you’re a truly talented writer. 👍💝💖

EEEEEEEEEE!!!! 😀😀😀😀😀 Thank you for this ask/review! I’m excited to finally be posting this part of Moonshadow, and the feedback I’ve been getting has been AMAZING!

I think King and Hunter would actually get along quite well, there just hasn’t been much opportunity for interaction in canon. And I just love the irony of Hunter being able to talk to a Titan and giving them agency because Belos spent so much time pretending to be able to talk to one to further his own agenda.

Hunter may have an extremely complicated relationship towards The Collector, but I can’t imagine he’d have much reason to harbor animosity towards King. Hunter is a kind and caring boy who spent his entire existence being made to play a role in someone else’s image.

I feel like Adrian is scared shitless of The Collector and is projecting a lot of tropes onto them. Like some of our other characters, he does not think that Collector could possibly be a child. Unlike Luz and company, who held that belief for the sake of their own sanity (because if they are a kid, locking them away would be monstrous) Adrian’s belief is born out of a familiarity with the trickster archetype in stories and mythology.

I had purposefully kept mention of the Titan Trappers to a minimum for the last few chapters (which @pageofheartdj took note of in a recent ask). With everything else that had been happening, our main characters had kind of forgotten this secondary invasion that was occurring.

Also I woke up and chose violence because that’s how I start most days. XD

But in all seriousness, everything that happened in this chapter is potential that has been set up in canon. Whether or not any of it goes in that direction…who knows…

BUT I think that King is one of the few individuals that The Collector has connected with on a deeper, emotional level. Any betrayal by King, or anything harmful happening TO King would hurt The Collector far worse than what anyone else did.

Right now, The Collector has chosen to trust Eda out of fear and desperation. However Eda hasn’t EARNED their trust yet, and this is something important to take note of.

#asks #ammonitetheseawing #the owl house #moonshadow au #toh the collector #king clawthorne #eda clawthorne #owl house fan fiction #discussion

[wordsandrobots]

IBO reference notes on . . . Iron-Blooded Orphans: Gekko

You're probably wondering why I brought you all here today. Well, it's to talk about a spin-off manga to my current favourite show.

Mobile Suit Gundam IRON-BLOODED ORPHANS Gekko is a side-story to Iron-Blooded Orphans, written and illustrated by Hajime Kamoshida (source: Gundam wiki). It ran to four volumes, covering fifteen chapters, and has not been published outside of Japan (unofficial fan translations are available on The Internet). The only official English-language release of the story is an adaptation as DLC for SD GUNDAM G GENERATION CROSS RAYS (I feel the capitals are important to the game's vibe). Play-throughs of this can freely be found on YouTube, and I would certainly recommend any IBO fans out there give those a watch. The adaptation streamlines parts of the story but also includes additional information in game menus (best seen in videos for music from the game).

This post is going to be a summary of Gekko (translated as Moon Steel in other sources), so spoilers ahoy. I'm going to outline the plot and characters, as well as explain why you should care. (In the absence of official translations for the manga itself, I am reliant on others' efforts for some of this, so please accept that caveat before proceeding.)

So what's the deal?

Gekko begins with the assassination of 'Daddy' Ted Morugaton, president of the shipping company Tanto Tempo. Sixteen year old Argi Mirage, who was also hired to shoot the man, ends up trying to protect him instead (Argi is not a very good hitman) and two further protagonists are introduced in quick succession: Volco Warren, another sixteen year old, heir to a disgraced Gjallarhorn family, and Liarina Morugaton, Daddy Ted's seventeen year old daughter. Like IBO proper, although there is a central Gundam pilot character (Argi), the story an ensemble affair, as Argi, Volco and Liarina track down those responsible for Daddy Ted's murder, navigate the fallout for Tanto Tempo's leadership, and stumble across a conspiracy inside Gjallarhorn (no, not that one; another conspiracy).

There are two things to note upfront. The first is that this is a smaller story than Iron-Blooded Orphans itself, and not simply because it literally has a smaller cast. Where IBO spans the solar system and plays out against a background of mafia politics and revolutionary agendas, Gekko is largely restricted to the space colonies and focused on drama concerning Tanto Tempo's fortunes. There are hints of larger connections and the writer situates things within the side-effects of the main show, but the primary concern here is whether Argi, Volco and Liarina can survive one company's internal disputes. It's like if the stuff with Jasley from season 2 was the main plot.

Second, you'll see I gave ages for the cast above. That's because, unlike literally everyone in IBO, they actually have canonical ages. The Gekko cast are from the Avalanche Colony cluster, near the Moon (hence Moon Steel), and while Argi is certainly working class, he's nowhere near as bottom-of-the-barrel as our favourite child soldiers. Liarina is the child of a rich businessman and the Warren family actually used to administer Avalanche on behalf of Gjallarhorn before they were framed and ruined. Though certainly orphans, these characters' plot takes place in a different level of the world to Tekkadan's.

With his dying breath, Daddy Ted makes Volco and Argi promise to protect Liarina, which leads them to saving her from a related assassination attempt using Volco's family Gundam, Astaroth. She then ropes them into helping get revenge on the culprits, with the choice of murder weapon (a mobile suit) initially pointing the finger at Gianmarco Salerno, head of Tanto Tempo's transport division. However it rapidly transpires the actual mastermind is the company's banker, Rosario Leone, who attempts to murder everyone in an effort to stop them exposing his crimes. He fails and is killed by the mercenary he hired to protect his interests (Fujiko Mine-alike, Nanao Narolina), seemingly on the orders of Ville Klaassen, the oily Gjallarhorn bureaucrat who framed the Warren family and had some kind of backroom deal with Leone.

Thus the first arc ends with Liarina installed as the leader of Tanto Tempo (Gianmarco flatly refuses the job and backs her after tying with Argi in a duel to the death), with Argi as her bodyguard and Volco acting as an assistant. But in the stinger, it turns out Nanao has stolen Astaroth . . .

Flash forward six months and we find Liarina dealing with Sylt Zalmfort, an administrator for Gjallarhorn's Ariadne Network. Being the fine, upstanding pillars of the community they are, Gjallarhorn are jacking up the prices for using the network, which threatens to ruin Tanto Tempo. This is Liarina's first real test as company president, so she immediately leaps to trying to find dirt on Zalmfort in order to blackmail him. Said dirt rapidly presents itself in the form of Zalmfort's daughter, Mina, who narrowly escaped a recent shuttle explosion.

You see, the Zalmforts had a cosy relationship with the African Union (read: the Union bribed them to get special favours) and in the wake of the Edmonton debacle, Gjallarhorn internal affairs began cracking down on corruption. In an attempt to throw blame on another house, the Nadiras, Sylt made it look like they killed Mina in order to cover up evidence of 'their' crimes. And he'd have gotten away with it if Mina hadn't survived.

There follows a protracted chase as the Tanto Tempo crew slowly uncover the above plot and come into conflict with Zadiel 'Zaza' Zalmfort, Mina's brother, who is also hunting the truth. With the help of a recovered Astaroth – and, strangely enough, the woman who stole it to begin with – events come to a head outside the Dort colonies. Sylt tries to silence Mina via battleship and Zadiel baits Argi into a fight that swerves near enough the colonies for the Arianrhod Fleet to show up to arrest everyone. His father's crimes are thus exposed, Tanto Tempo gets in good with the new administrator (a grateful Lord Nadira) and our heroes go home with a new sense of found family.

I think there was meant to be more. The extent of Klaassen's machinations and his true motives are left opaque, and while his connection to Nanao is clearly telegraphed, it isn't paid off. I would guess there was intended to be at least another arc to tie everything together. However it never materialised, so everyone gets to stay alive, relatively happy and somewhat in limbo. Whatever else, Gekko is certainly not the tragedy the main series is.

Why should you care?

Gekko is not essential, nor is it especially brilliant on its own merits. While the design is great and the plot decent, the manga's art is merely OK and the mecha fights are stiff (it's traced CGI, which means it doesn't have the vim of the anime's more traditionally rendered combat).

The main reason to care about Gekko is what it adds to IBO's world-building. As I said above, this is a story that happens in the margins of the big events. It starts around the time of the Dort episodes and the riots are referenced repeatedly. The first arc ends with Liarina worrying about discontent on Avalanche, following the Dort unions' example. Kim, the sex worker who looks after Mina while she's homeless after the explosion, is explicitly a survivor of the Gjallarhorn-orchestrated massacre, having seen the girls she used to work with gunned down for trying to stick up for their rights. Moreover, the whole of the second arc is kicked off by members of Gjallarhorn scrambling to hide their dirty laundry in the wake of McGillis exposing Iznario's (political) misdeeds to the world.

There's a tonne of extra information added into the canon, from more Gjallarhorn houses to hints at what the Montag company was up to between IBO's two seasons. We learn that marriages in Gjallarhorn are as unbounded by gender as they are age, we get a look at a whole new set of near-Earth space colonies, and we even find out what happened to that wrecked Graze Naze sold on behalf of Tekkadan.

Being a Gundam manga there are, of course, some new mobile suits too. Specifically five new Gundams (Seere, Astaroth, Vual, Dantalion and Gremory), along with Hyakuren, Hyakuri, Man Rodi and Graze variants, plus another Valkyrja frame. Naturally, there are kits (of four out of the five Gundams; what I wouldn't give for a Labrys though . . .) and lavish illustrations for the mecha nerds among us.

Above all, Gekko is a view into what was happening over the horizon from the main IBO plot, filling in how Gjallarhorn reacted to the end of season one and offering a different perspective on the status quo. On this score, it is excellent and I wish there had been more tie-ins of this sort, given how much potential there is in IBO's setting.

Why do I care?

Saying all this, what I personally love about Gekko is the cast. The main three have a totally different dynamic from Tekkadan, constantly bickering and very focused on individual goals, while still possessing clearly defined better traits. They're all arseholes but they are at least well-intentioned enough the arguments read more like sibling pettiness than overt dislike.

Argi is a grump possessed of a grudging sense of morality, helping others with an air of 'this is an obviously bad idea but I'm not letting anyone else kill themselves.' His prosthetic marks him out as one of Gundam's few disabled protagonists, something he shares with Volco, who wrecked his motor control by sticking a chip in his head to give himself instant recall on useful data. Where Argi seeks to destroy the Gundam that killed his family, Volco's goal in life is to restore Astaroth, which was stripped of its armour to settle the Warren's debts. Acerbic, with an irritable disposition, he is nevertheless very loyal to the people who took him in and probably not as calculating as he acts.

Liarina is similarly loyal to those around her – in a 'you're mine, I'm looking after you' kind of way – while also being an irascible snob. She spends half her time fuming over Argi insulting her and the other half insulting him back, usually worse. Her response to finding herself in over her head is to charge into the middle of it all and literally take charge. If we're going to make the comparison, she's way more hot-headed than Kudelia and a hell of a lot meaner, but similarly determined to fill a role she's way too young for.

Past them, we have two new human debris characters, Sampo and Yuhana, a brother and sister trying to buy themselves out of their status with mercenary work; Gianmarco, the aforementioned transportation head who loves shirtlessness and fighting in roughly equal measure; Deira Nadira, the cross-dressing lord of House Nadira (that's how Gremory's manual describes her but she's drawn rocking both men and women's clothes equally well so personally I think she just has good taste); and everyone else I already mentioned. They're a great selection of concepts who make perfect sense and really add to IBO's world.

I don't know what more you could ask for in a spin-off. Aside from being allowed to finish it's plot!

Other reference posts include:

IBO reference notes on … Gjallarhorn (Part 1)

IBO reference notes on … Gjallarhorn (Part 2)

IBO reference notes on … Gjallarhorn (corrigendum) [mainly covering my inability to recognise mythical wolves]

IBO reference notes on … three key Yamagi scenes

IBO reference notes on … three key Shino scenes

IBO reference notes on … three key Eugene scenes

IBO reference notes on … three key Ride scenes

IBO reference notes on … the tone of the setting

IBO reference notes on … character parallels and counterpoints

IBO reference notes on … a perfect villain

IBO reference notes on … an act of unspeakable cruelty

IBO reference notes on … original(ish) characters [this one is mainly fanfic]

IBO reference notes on … Kudelia’s decisions

#reference #Gundam Iron-blooded Orphans #gundam ibo #g tekketsu #Tekketsu no Orphans #Gundam Iron-Blooded Oprhans Gekko #spin-off manga #summary #mostly because I use the characters in my fic and I want people to know what on earth I am talking about

[misfitwashere]

Friends,

My father, Ed Reich, was haunted by antisemitism his entire life.

He grew up in New York City in the 1910s and 1920s. He was often taunted for being Jewish.

The colleges he applied to had quotas on Jewish applicants.

He and many in his generation witnessed or experienced the horrors of the Holocaust.

When he and my mother and their one-year-old baby (me) first moved to South Salem, New York, we were met by a delegation of old men who told us it was a “Christian community” and we would “not be comfortable” there.

He was a golf enthusiast, but his application to the local golf club was rejected because he was Jewish.

I have experienced far less antisemitism than he did but have not been free of it.

A kid in my grade school class told me he’d buy one of my prized baseball cards if I’d “Jew down” its price.

When I was secretary of labor, I received letters containing phrases like “You stinking Jew.”

Yesterday, Joe Biden spoke out against antisemitism. I’m glad he did.

But I also worry that by speaking out against antisemitism without acknowledging what has sparked the student protests across America, he is conflating those protests with antisemitism. 

By and large, the protests are not motivated by antisemitism.

There may be some antisemites among demonstrators. Protest movements are often ignited by many different things and attract an assortment of people with a range of motives.

But after many talks with demonstrators and faculty, it seems clear to me this protest movement is centered on moral outrage at the killings of tens of thousands of innocent people in Gaza, most of them women and children.

Many of the demonstrators are themselves Jewish.

Jews have been involved in these protests for the same reason Jews were so involved in other social justice movements — such as the struggles for women’s rights, worker’s rights, civil rights, voting rights, free speech, and LGBTQ+ rights. And against the Vietnam War, apartheid in South Africa, and the Iraq War.

The oppression that Jewish people have experienced for hundreds if not thousands of years has taught Jews the necessity of standing up to injustice — whatever its form and whenever it appears.  

Yesterday, House Republicans continued their hearings on antisemitism. They called public school officials from three of the most politically liberal communities in the nation — Berkeley, California; New York City; and Montgomery County, Maryland. 

Their hearings on antisemitism in higher education helped topple the presidents of Harvard and the University of Pennsylvania and pushed Columbia’s president to promise a crackdown on campus antisemitism. Her crackdown led to the arrest of more than 100 protesters at Columbia and a further surge in student activism there. 

House Republicans are politicizing and weaponizing antisemitism. They are using supposed antisemitism in education as a means of pursuing their cultural populist agenda, which for years has denigrated universities and public schools. They are also intent on splitting liberal Democrats over the war in Gaza.

Long ago, in kindergarten, I was cast as Baby Jesus in the school Christmas pageant because I was the shortest kid around. Another five-year-old told me it was unfair of me to play Jesus because I was Jewish, and the Jews had killed Jesus.

When I told my parents, they were livid — not only that I had to play Baby Jesus, but that any child would still believe that it was Jews who killed Christ. (Nine years later, in 1960, the Roman Catholic Church officially renounced the idea of Jewish responsibility for Jesus’ death.)

I was reminded of this by the Antisemitism Awareness Act, passed in the House of Representatives on May 1, by a 320-91 vote. It would codify, for the purpose of enforcing federal civil rights law in higher education, a definition of antisemitism that includes rejection of Israel as a Jewish state. The bill also adopts the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s definition of antisemitism, which includes “claims of Jews killing Jesus.”

Although the bill was initiated by House Republicans, much of the opposition to it has come from the Christian right, which wants to be able to continue saying that Jews killed Jesus.

In an X post, Rep. Marjorie Taylor (“Jewish Space Laser”) Greene announced her opposition to the bill because it “could convict Christians for believing the Gospel that says Jesus was handed over to Herod to be crucified by the Jews.”

As Congresswoman Greene’s words demonstrate, antisemitism lives on. And it should be condemned.

But antisemitism can’t and shouldn’t be legislated away. Once we start defining what views are impermissible on a university campus or in public schools — for getting a job, receiving research funding, or getting promoted — we’re back in the era of Senator Joe McCarthy and communist witch hunts.

And once we start conflating antisemitism with protests against mass brutality, such as the slaughter in Gaza, we invite blindness to injustices in which America is complicit. 

(By the way, kudos to Joe Biden for standing up to Netanyahu — saying he will block the delivery of weapons that could be fired into densely populated areas of Rafah. “If they go into Rafah, I’m not supplying the weapons that have been used historically to deal with Rafah, to deal with the cities, that deal with that problem,” Biden said in an interview with CNN’s Erin Burnett.)

#Robert Reich #israel/palestine #antisemitism

[beyondcuckoo]

Reincarnated Pathways has been published on Elaine Webster - https://elainewebster.com/reincarnated-pathways/

New Post has been published on https://elainewebster.com/reincarnated-pathways/

Reincarnated Pathways

Shared from Mu the Motherland: There’s a lingering memory, an experience, that stays with me from my childhood. I’m not sure exactly how old I was at the time, maybe seven or eight—not long after my family moved from Manhattan to Queens in NYC. I remember that I had recently made my first communion at the local Catholic church when I began to feel frightened by the idea of death. Most nights left me tossing and turning, afraid that if I fell asleep, I would somehow disappear. One night, however, as I gazed out the bedroom an image appeared—not so much an image, but a solid person waving and smiling as if to say, no worries, I’m here.

Through the years, I’ve thought about the encounter, remembering the calm that pervaded the room as the bald, round-faced man gazed at me with gentle kindness. Recently, and what brings me to write this, is an episode on the History Channel about a woman, Omm Sety (Dorothy Eady 1904 -1981), who dedicated her life to Egyptology, specifically the study of the Temple of Seti at Abydos, where she said she once lived. There is much written about Omm Sety and I recommend a book by Jonathan Cott, “The Search For Omm Sety”, which is a fascinating account of her life and her encounters with King Seti I, supposedly in person, in the flesh, romantically through astral travel. Normally, I would file this as simply interesting, but what grabbed me, was that the image shown of King Seti’s mummy closely resembled the man I saw as a child in my window.

The Edgar Cayce readings (available from the Association for Research and Enlightenment, A.R.E) say that ancient Egypt was a colony of Atlantis before its cataclysmic demise and remained a powerful world influencer throughout its history. While fascinated with Egyptian history, I don’t feel that I lived at that time, which makes my childhood vision confusing. Instead, I feel more connected to Lemurian influences and the pre-history conflicts with Atlantis which caused planetary chaos.

A belief in reincarnation fuels my interests and studies, however, you need not believe in it to consider how our actions affect the planet’s future and spiritual advancement. History repeats itself to allow our souls to progress through the Yugas—A Hindu term that defines the four steps in mankind’s development. In our current position in Kali Yuga, living is hard, but the lessons and rewards are great. Some similarities between the pre-destruction time of Atlantis and Lemuria:

High technology and science are predominant.

Religious thought struggles and is often falsified then used to control the weak-minded.

Money and wealth are king, with little regard to Karmic (the law of cause and effect) consequences.

Those in power lie, cheat and steal to further unholy agendas.

Planetary abuse in the forms of waste, pollution, carbon emissions etc. create increased weather extremes, shortages, and natural disasters.

Earth changes create famine, destruction of habitats, and a vast migration of peoples escaping unhealthy and dangerous situations.

WAR!

However, before we get all hung up on the negative, remember that we have the free will, to do it differently. We are God’s children with a divine right to everything we need to return to higher planes and ways of thinking. We struggle with dualities: right/wrong, good/evil, rich/poor, love/hate etc. Which way will we go? I like to think that we’ll make it through, but not without tremendous effort and above all else, love.

So, what’s to be done? The signs are there, but it’s not as simple as living “Green”, although common sense dictates that we need to clean up our environmental act. But let’s look back at the commotion and chaos that destroyed civilization during the last Yuga cycle. Information from the Cayce readings, and elsewhere suggest that high technology—not evil in itself—created a scenario where humankind was capable of mass destruction, which apparently backfired way beyond what was imagined. The Hopi Elders say that someone “pushed the wrong button”. Other religious texts talk about great floods, mass migrations, and folks moving underground. (Check out the underground city of Elengubu, known today as Derinkuyu.) Many cultures speak about places of emergence whenever the coast was clear. No matter what you feel is true, there is still no denying that we are at a crossroads.

One of the goals of the “Mu the Motherland” is to help us to calm down and take a look around—setting aside our differences and focusing on our strengths. The political world is divided, more or less in half, which sets the stage for civil unrest, cultural division, religious fanaticism, and wars. We can counteract by broadening our horizons and accepting our neighbors. Which brings me to immigration. The world is still large enough to accommodate populations if we work towards common sense goals. Primal instincts set us up to fight to hold on to territories and repel invaders. However, people are on the move and letting individuals and families die at border crossings, at sea, in deserts etc. is not an option. The issues are complicated, but they can be figured out. Bottom line—violence is never a solution—love is the answer. Peace.

Image Source: Roland Unger, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

[thepaininurneck]

Okay, wow, never in my life did I think a music video involving giving Satan a lap dance would delve into a conversation about gay rights ( and how gay men are portrayed in media ), but Lil Nas X broke the world with MONTERO, so here I am. We’ve got three things here that I think are important - Internet culture, religion, sexuality. These are the things that I think people are getting too uptight over/not upset enough over, and I wanna rant for a bit, so bear with me on this one.

First, I LOVED MONTERO. I’m a whore for religious imagery/theming/etc. being used in media, and as a former Christian and an openly gay woman, it makes me very happy to see it used in a spiteful manner. MONTERO was gorgeous - sexual, unapologetic, and so clearly pulling straight from Biblical stories. The religion used commonly against us ( here in the US, at least, because I know other religions can be just as oppressive, if not worse, and Christianity isn’t the dominant religion everywhere ) being used in a way that’s expressive of our lives is beautiful. The very clear message of “Oh, I’m going to hell? That’s okay,” is perfect - for so many LGBT people in this country, we’ve been told that we’re condemned to eternal punishment because of something we can’t help. LNX took that in stride and made it art, with MONTERO and the video. I am in full support of it and will be throwing it on my horny playlist.

But here’s why I think this is so important - MONTERO’s release has exposed, in my opinion, where the real issues lie in Western culture. WAP did this too, a little - both of these songs, and their accompanying videos, were criticized using children. “Children watch you”, “how could you expose kids to this”, etc. were complaints hurled at Cardi B and LNX over their music. And in LNX’s case, people used his previous success with Old Town Road - I saw one tweet saying Old Town Road is “every kid’s anthem”, and that their children love Old Town Road. Which is problematic - how can you complain about MONTERO, but allow your child to listen to a song with lyrics such as “Lean all in my bladder”, “Cheated on my baby, you can go and ask her”, “Bull riding and boobies” - Old Town Road is not a child-friendly song by any means, but LNX didn’t include naked breasts, or ( as far as I’m aware ) market the song in a way that showcased those lyrics. So parents let their children enjoy their funny horse song, never looking into the words their kids were hearing daily. But with MONTERO, because they saw at a glance that it was an issue, they assumed this meant the previously “child-friendly” artist LNX, the man behind the funny horse song, was suddenly trying to indoctrinate their children. When in reality, LNX has never catered to kids. He’s always been open about his music and himself, and it’s entirely the parents’ faults for not better monitoring what media their children take in. It is never the responsibility of the creator to change their content for an audience they didn’t want. MONTERO, and WAP, both exposed just how internet culture has allowed parents an excuse to be lazy, hands-off pieces of shit, and demonize creators further.

MONTERO also exposed how homophobia continues to follow us, in how many comments there were calling LNX predatory, claiming he was indoctrinating children and pushing agendas - and, with Kaitlin Bennet’s actual racist comments, now he’s being slandered. ( if you didn’t see that beef, TLDR: Kaitlin asked “do you still see your dad?” w/ blatant intent to hurt, LNX replied with “yeah and I’ll fuck yours”, to which Kaitlin accused him of threatening to rape her father and several small, conservative ‘journalists’ ran with it ). I don’t like throwing around the word homophobia, but this isn’t new - gay men have been called predatory for a long time and demonized for even small gestures like holding hands. And now, an openly gay man made a video celebrating his sexuality ( which isn’t a new topic: look at any music video from the early 2000s for more examples of people expressing sexuality ) and given fuel to these idiots to continue pushing their narrative of “gay man predator, gay man bad”. Fortunately, it’s a lot less than it would’ve been thirty years ago. But the fact that it still happens on this scale, enough that journalists pick it up as a story, and governors, Candace Owens and other prominent homophobic conservative figures jump on the bandwagon....it’s sad. A man celebrating his sexuality shouldn’t be demonized the way it is, and MONTERO is doing an amazing job at spitting in people’s faces.

Cutting myself short here, I think MONTERO was a gift. It’s a work of art in many ways, but the social response it generated is also a blessing in that it shows what we need to prioritize - which is self responsibility. No one is forcing you to watch the gay man give Satan a lap dance, nor are they forcing you to buy his shoes. No one will ever force you into that - you, a consenting adult/teenager, willingly watched it. You’re reading this now of your own choice. If your child is watching MONTERO, you should blame yourself if you’re mad - why didn’t you monitor them better? Teach them to avoid things they don’t recognize online? You failed as a parent to protect your child from what you deem harmful. That isn’t anyone’s fault except your own as their active guardian.

Sex, talking about sex, grinding, lap dances....those aren’t new to music videos. They’ve been happening for decades, actually - early 90’s and 2000’s videos had a lot, and I think some 80’s had them. MONTERO didn’t invent NSFW music videos, the only difference is it’s gay and dared to use religious imagery ( which also isn’t new, but that’s another rant I don’t want to get into ). For once, I actually agree with the masses - this outrage was mostly fueled by homophobia and dumb Christians. And to any Christians reading this ( that didn’t get offended, because if you got genuinely upset by this drama, fuck you ); you’re cool.

Anyways, yeah. I think MONTERO was awesome, LNX killed it as always, and I hate conservatives. Goodnight.

#lil nas x #lnx #I sound like an sjw #but in a good way #might burn down a church later idk #Davey sleepy rants