#I don’t usually talk about politics but with how recent and influential it is and that fact that a lot of people I care about are effected

[tempestmothstorm]

I don’t really know what to say. or if I even have the right to say it. I could point fingers on why this happened. I could guess what’s next. I could complain or be angry or point blame. But I don’t know anything. I can’t even guess if these words will matter to anyone.

But please keep going. You need to find a reason to keep going. I can’t promise if things will be ok. But it won’t get better if you give up. I don’t know how it will happen, but you need to find a way to survive. You have to outlive. Outliving itself is rebellion with what little you can do. Make sure this moment becomes distant history. Make sure this moment doesn’t spell the end of the world. I hate that this has to hurt everyone. I hate that this will affect everyone outside and within the country. I hate that so many people don’t get a say in their lives. I want to believe things might stay the same. I want to believe it won’t be as bad as we think. I want to believe that even if it is, things will get better. But I don’t know anything. Things seem awful and I don’t know if anyone’s going to do anything about it. But the one thing I do know is that giving up and letting it happen won’t make things better. Please. Find a way to keep going. Find a way to change things. Find a way to survive. It’s the one choice you do have. Please try. At least you would have tried. Make sure it isn’t the end. I know it doesn’t have to be the end.

[mshomestyle]

Can I request about a short story or head canon for Midoriya, Hawks or Shoto( any of the three will do) about S/O who experience a trauma about her work before due to abusive management, coworkers who bullies her and clients that demands the impossible things/wants them to break the policies for them because they are from influential family. That incident leads her to resign. S/O keeps the incident from Midoriya, hawks or shoto but her past keeps haunting her, how can Midoriya, Hawks or Shoto will help their S/O?

My ask box is crickets rn, so I can do all three! I will do a drabble writing about what happened to the reader and then do HCs for the rest!

Reader who was Abused at her Old Job x MHA Multiple Characters [Drabble and Head Canons]:

(Midoriya, Hawks, & Shoto)

The incident:

Oh, how you hated this place. There was currently not any better options for you out there, so you had no choice but to just take it. Your coworkers were rude and bullied you every chance they got, only to tell you things like ‘It’s just a joke, why are you taking it so seriously?’ when you reacted negatively towards them. You knew they weren’t fully joking, but all you could do was grin and bear it.

The upper management positions were filled to the brim with people who not only abused their positions, but also their employees. You were often stuck doing tasks not in your job description only to get written up and scolded for “neglecting” your actual job. And it usually happened by the same bosses who made you stop doing your work in the first place.

Lastly, and perhaps the worst of all, was the clients. They walked all over you and demanded things that just weren’t possible, and no matter how many times you politely told them that you would lose your job if you were to fulfill particular requests of theirs, you would get told in response ‘Don’t you know who I am? My family practically built this city! I’ll get you fired if you don’t do as I say!’

Day after day you came home wondering when this would all end. You just couldn’t take it anymore, but sadly this was all you had. There was nothing to save you from this.

Until one day, you were discovered so to speak. Your work was recognized by a top hero, who immediately wanted you to work for them, and you had to say that seeing your bosses beg for you to stay and your coworkers’ mouths dropping was satisfying.

It was great to be gone from that nightmare, but as time passed, you learned that you weren’t truly free from it just yet.

Midoriya:

-All Might had actually scouted you out to work for the Pro-Hero Deku at his agency.

-It was easy to tell that Izuku was caught off guard when he first met you, but not in a bad way.

-He was not only interested in your talents, but also you as well.

-So, once he worked up the courage to ask you out on a date, your relationship began. And you had to admit, Izuku was an incredible boyfriend.

-He was always so sweet, though he didn’t make you feel as if you had to date him because you worked for him.

-Everything seemed perfect, until these negative thoughts started to arrive.

-You wondered if you would ever have to deal with rude coworkers, or if they were talking about you behind your back. You wondered if any of the clients asking for Deku’s help would try to get you to manipulate the system for them. And sadly, you wondered if Deku would start to abuse his power.

-These thoughts were small at first, but as they grew, they appeared in your actions. You became more quiet and tried to make yourself seem less noticeable to those around you.

-You just couldn’t help but to feel that way as it seemed as if your old Job still had a hold on you.

-But, you did have an amazing boyfriend, so Deku noticed in no time at all. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting kind of strange at work lately.” The two of you were at his place when he expressed this concern.

-”Y-Yes, I’m fine,” you quickly told him, faking a smile. Izuku didn’t buy it one bit, and you could tell that by the look on his face. You let out a sigh, “Sorry...It’s just...My last job was so horrible. My coworkers, clients, and even my bosses were just so harsh and demanding...I guess it still stuck with me because-Well, I’m afraid that it’s going to happen with you and your agency.”

-Izuku looked taken back by this, and immediately he reached over and grabbed your hand, “Oh, you don’t need to apologize!” he told you, “I’m sorry that you had to go through that, but I promise I’d never let that happen to you again. Everyone at my agency likes you, and I’d always take the side of my employees over a rude client. I know my words can’t undo all that you’ve went through, but I promise that I won’t let that happen to you again.”

-He sounded so genuine and earnest, and you knew that he was. It would take some time, but you knew everything would be alright with him there with you.

Hawks:

-”You have a high profile client in your office, now hurry it up or you are fired!”

-You nodded quickly to your boss before rushing into your office, almost tripping on your way in as you made it to your desk.

-Hawks was a well known hero and deeply loved by people, so needless to say, your coworkers were pissed that you would be the one seeing him.

-“How may I help you?” Your tried to act as professionally as possible, but you were actually a mess on the inside.

-Hawks looked at you with an eyebrow raised, “Does your boss always talk to you that way?” he asked. Your mouth dropped as you were asked that. He heard?! Hawks started to chuckle, “Sorry, my feathers pick up vibrations, allowing me to easily overhear things.” You quickly tried your best to overcome your embarrassment.

-”No, no, it’s fine,” you told him, “I couldn’t keep you waiting. Now, what do you need?” This seemed to earn you an amused look.

-”I actually came here hoping to poach one of the workers for my agency,” Hawks told you, “With the way that asshat of a boss is, I’m sure this will be a good opportunity for you, too.” You were taken back by this, the wind seeming to knock right out of you.

-”E-Excuse me? Did I hear you correctly?” you asked.

-”I can even match your salary,” he smiled, “Now tell me, what’s the funnest and most satisfying way that you can quit?”

-You started to work for Hawks less than a week later, and then a month after that, he asked you out on a date.

-He was such an incredible man, that it was no wonder so many people fawned over him, and the more you got to know him, the more you felt as if he deserved that.

-But then...the doubts started to set in.

-You were starting to remember your old job and the way that you were treated, and despite the fact that the employees that worked for Hawks were so warm and friendly, you still felt a nagging pit in your stomach.

-What you had dealt with before was no joke, and sometimes thoughts from it kept you awake at night.

-It was just a good thing for you that your new boyfriend was so attentive. At the first sign of changes in your behavior, he confronted you about it.

-”Hey, you alright, baby? You’ve been kind of down recently.”

-You felt kind of unsure if you could truly talk to him about this, but he was such a good man that maybe his help was what you needed.

-”Remember my old job? Well, what you saw wasn’t the half of it. My coworkers and even my clients were just horrible pieces of work. They bullied and abused me, and well...I’m haunted by that.” You looked away from him, crossing your arms as you thought about the past.

-Hawks easily walked closer to you, reaching out and lifting your chin. “Sweetheart, you’re so much better than those kinds of people. I saw it, and I’m sure they knew that, which was why they targeted you. Good people don’t hurt others. Besides, I’m here for you, and if you ever have to deal with someone like that again, I’ll save you,” Hawks wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head, “Now, the next time I see your old boss, I’m going to thank him for giving you to me, then call him an asshole.” You couldn’t help but to giggle at that.

-Hawks was just what you needed.

Shoto:

-Moving on and putting the past behind you was all you wanted to do, so when you received a job offer from the pro hero Shoto himself, you took it without delay.

-You were a bit intimidated at first, knowing that this was one of the best hero agencies in the country, but everyone around you just made you feel so at home-Especially your boss.

-And speaking of your boss, when he first laid eyes on you, he became a bit of an awkward mess.

-Eventually, he worked up the courage to ask you out, and several months later you were in a happy relationship together.

-Shoto was sweet, caring, and very loving towards you. You honestly felt as if you didn’t deserve a man this good, but there he was happily dating you.

-Everything seemed fine, until you felt a strong relapse in emotions. You were working in a safe and kind environment, so why was your anxiety about your old job starting to creep up?

-You began to remember the way your coworkers treated you, the way your bosses would demand the impossible, and the way your clients spoke to you as if you were nothing.

-This sort of thing had you tossing and turning at night and becoming very nervous about your current job. What if you messed up? Would your new coworkers start to criticize you? Would Shoto?

-”...Hey...Hey?” Shoto didn’t yell much, and even now he proved that as he gently got your attention. “You okay?”

-”Yeah, I’m fine,” you quickly faked a smile. Shoto had invited you to his office to eat lunch, which was a pretty regular occurrence.

-”I see...,” he spoke softly, indicating that he didn’t believe you. He then remained silent for a while before out of nowhere-”You know...You’ve been like this recently. I even notice that you have such a stressed look on your face when you sleep.” You felt your cheeks warm up at the latter thing that he told you.

-”Seriously, I’m alright,” you insisted. Shoto just looked at you, though; his disbelief in your words more than clear.

-”You also seem a bit distracted at times when you’re doing your work here,” he said. At this point, it became easy to tell that he was going to keep listing off your recent behavior until you told the truth. So, you took a deep breath.

-”Okay, I get it,” you said, “Look...I-...The place that I used to work at was a nightmare. Everything from the bosses to the clients was just brutal to the point where just thinking about it keeps me up at night...I hate that it still has this power over me, but I can’t help it. That time really scarred me.”

-Shoto watched your expression as you spoke, and then let out a sigh. “I’m sure it will take time before you can feel better about that sort of thing and move on, but if you keep it bottled up that won’t happen.” You looked at him curiously, “I’m here for you, alright? Instead of letting these thoughts just stay there, tell me about them. I’m sure once you get it out, and I tell you how awful the people you worked with were and how much better you are than them, you’ll be able to sleep with no problems at all.” You couldn’t help but to smile at his words.

-”You’d really do that for me?” you asked.

-”Of course. You mean the world to me.”

-You were sure that with Shoto’s help, you’d feel a million times better.

[cafeinthemoon]

The Home I Crave - Chapter 1

Title: The Home I Crave

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: Tobirama Senju x reader

Rating: teen and up

Word count: 1317

Chapter: 1/?

Symbols: ⭕ | ➕ | 💛 | ▶️ 

Warnings: Lots of angst, bottled up feeligs, fights and heated arguments

N. A.: Dont mind me, I’m just putting a self indulgent fic out there lol The idea for this story has been on my mind for months, but I never found an opportunity to write it vecause I was too worried about all the unfinished works I already have, but yk who cares about that? Let’s be self indulgent because we deserve it

Summary: Your clan kept some business with the Senju since the Warring Period, but now the Hokage of Konoha and head of the powerful clan, Hashirama, wants to strengthen their alliances with your family through marriage. You, the eldest daughter of your clan’s head, is the chosen woman to represent your side of the treaty, while the other part will be performed by Tobirama, Hashirama’s younger brother and a man you’ve never met in your life.

“So why don’t you leave me alone

Say you were wrong”

(Plumb, Jekyll and Hyde)

As the eldest of five daughters in an important family, you always knew that more was expected from you in the primary aspects of life. To primary, of course, your family understood the duties of a woman of your class, which could be summarized in training to be the good wife in an arranged marriage. The same destiny waited for your sisters as well, but you were the one to open the way for them.

Your family was not only a noble one, but the clan’s head’s family. Being a clan of warriors who fought side by side with the most prominent of the Land of Fire during the Warring Period, all of you were raised as capable kunoichi taught since childhood to value the shinobi ways. Joining forces with another powerful clan through marriage was then the natural goal imposed to you.

You weren’t the greatest enthusiast of it, but neither you were its main antagonist. You thought you could do it as your mother did and just move on with your life. Would there be room for love in your life after you get married? No one knew, but it could be good. Maybe if you got some time to know the man chosen to be your husband, to talk to him a few times during the engagement period, the seeds of such sentiment could have been planted. When you compared your clan’s standards to others you were allied with, you could say yours were liberal as no other and your father was a reasonable man, so that you were counting on his wisdom in that sense: he would introduce the candidate to you first, you would discuss his strong and weak traits and come to an intelligent conclusion both for you and your family.

Well, this is what you were expecting. But life doesn’t always gives us what we expect.

One day, you just came back from a training session and were cleaning yourself in your room. Your parents came to talk to you, and just by their cheerful expressions, you sensed something extraordinary – but much expected – has happened.

When you questioned them, they alternated between themselves to explain the situation.

- A messenger just came from the newly-formed Hidden Leaf Village, y/n dear – your father started – The crest on his clothing indicated that he was sent by the Senju.

- By their head himself – your mother added, uniting her hands in joy.

The Senju head? Who was he… Oh, of course, Hashirama, the same man who was chosen to rule the ninja village he created alongside the Uchiha. The news were spreading fast, and you heard of many clans deciding to join them everyday. Considering that you had some business your own clan had with the Senju, it seemed that your turn has come.

But you didn’t hear the full message yet.

- Hashirama-sama is inviting us to a meeting at the Hokage’s residence – your father continued – He wants to discuss some details about the already existing alliance between the Senju and our clan. According to the young man who brought the message, his leader is studying a way of strengthening our connections. And he wants to do this as soon as possible.

As soon as possible? Indeed, things were happening fast these days when the war is over and people were directing their efforts to different projects.

- You must have heard that he recently united the Senju and the Uzumaki by marrying the young Mito, their head’s daughter – your mother pointed out – Now, he wants to propose the same type of alliance to us!

So, it finally came. The arranged marriage. You should have seen it coming when the word alliance was mentioned. Still, you were interested now: the Senju were one of the most powerful and influential clans of that time, as old as it could be, just like the Uchiha and Hyugga, so marrying someone from them wasn’t to be taken lightly.

- You, being our first daughter, are naturally his main interest in this, y/n – your father explained – Alongside the man chosen to represent the other part...

The other part – your future husband. Who was going to be the chosen one? Maybe one of the Hokage’s closest men of trust, or a cousin or…

- His younger brother and advisor, Tobirama.

Younger brother? You crossed your arms.

- I… I didn’t know Hashirama Senju has a younger brother – and in a lower tone – I thought he lost all his siblings in war when they were kids.

Your father laughed, if at your ignorance or your morbid comment, you couldn’t tell.

- No, dear, he still has a brother who works by his side since the creation of their village. According to what I’ve heard, this young man is competent as no other: he takes care of the paperwork when his brother is too busy, mediates negotiations, presides meetings and perform all the boring part that falls on your shoulders when you have an older brother who is too invested in changing the world’s politics.

You needed a moment to process all you’ve heard. So Hashirama Senju still had a brother, and he was the backbone of his political career. And now he was intending to take a new step on the alliance you’ve already had with his clan by setting a marriage between this brother and you. You thought about it: men like this one were necessary in any system that wants to keep functional, because they were the only ones who could get used to have all eyes to their work and no time to rest. Smart, wise, they usually were; a pleasing company outside the office, well, that was debatable. But with a few of them you could to talk to.

You tried to show some amusement by the news, in respect to your parents who were so excited for bringing them to you, as well as to give this man you didn’t even know the benefit of doubt. Maybe a few practical questions about the meeting would calm down your anxiety.

- So, Hashirama is inviting us to a meeting at his office to discuss the this marriage and for us to meet his brother.

When you asked that, you sensed a hesitation in your parents’ manners that you didn’t like. What was wrong?

Your father was the first to speak.

- Well, actually we are not going to see Tobirama in this meeting, dear. He was sent to a mission in the Land of Wind and must not come back before the date set to the encounter. However, his brother and him came in agreement about the marriage with a young woman of our clan and set the conditions to the treaty, so that he knows everything that is going to happen while he’s away.

You definitely didn’t like this arrangement. You would be there to discuss something that would change your whole life and the other main part wouldn't even come to look at your face? Something like this just couldn’t have much chances to end up well, no matter how good were preparations that the Senju man could have done. You wanted to tell this to your parents, but something held your tongue: they probably have thought of this while talking to the messenger and even dedicated a line to these worries in their written response to the Hokage; besides, you wanted to see how things would unfold. You’ve learned, in your life as a shinobi, that one gains much more when they show patience rather than precipitation, so you would wait until the day of the meeting to see the rest. Of course everything would be fixed during it, and all your doubts and insecurities about this arrangement would be clarified.

Of course they would be.

[kaitoujokerscans]

The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH6

<6> The Lady Spy and Phantom Thief Girl

At the same time as when Spade was talking to Noir, a minor commotion was taking place aboard a luxury sleeper train coursing through a European ravine.

 "Stop! Don't let her get away!"

The train shook with a clunking noise, and stern-faced men in dark uniforms trampled through the carriage. They were chasing after a tiny silhouette dashing ahead. The silhouette opened the door connecting to the next carriage and ran into the hallway. Although the hallway floor was made of old wood, the silhouette's footsteps were completely silent.

There came a loud bang from behind her. A pistol bullet streaked past the side of the silhouette.

"Tsk!" The silhouette clicked her tongue, then opened the door to the next carriage and jumped in. This was the first class carriage — a passenger car with numerous private cabins. Through the earpiece she wore, she heard an order to the uniformed men — "The target's headed towards the front! Cut her off on both sides!". She was listening in to their radio comm.

They'll be coming from the front too, soon enough...

The tiny silhouette came to a stop in the middle of the carriage. Right next to her was the door to a guest cabin.

The silhouette was a little old lady in black tights. She would have been at least seventy years old. Yet her hair was a glistening white, and her skin had a healthy sheen. Least suggestive of her age was the look in her eyes. She was keeping watch for enemies in front of her and staying cautious of enemies approaching from behind at the same time.

Her name was Agent Purple. She was a veteran spy of a country to remain unnamed and was still an active intelligence agent. Purple had just stolen a top-secret file from an influential person in a certain country. She had received intel that it was being moved on this train and, putting her petite stature to good use, had skillfully swiped the file without alerting anyone. It was an easy job for Purple.

But it so happened that a newbie spy allied with her country had been caught elsewhere and let slip that Purple was on board.

Good heavens... Young'uns these days have no backbone... Purple sighed and, focusing her attention to the front, reached for the small firearm lashed around her leg.

Anxiety bubbled within Purple. The round of enemy fire had grazed Purple's arm. It was only a scratch, but still, moving it even slightly made pain course through her arm. Usually she would have no issue with firing at this range, but if enough enemies stormed her from both front and back, she wasn't sure she'd be able to make every shot.

Though it doesn't look like I have a choice... Purple steeled herself. She heard bellows come from both in front and behind her. Just as Purple's hand hovered over her firearm... the guest cabin door swung open, and someone grabbed Purple's arm.

"...!" With her opposite hand, Purple immediately reached for the knife at her hip. But she didn't stab anything. Because the person grabbing her said this to her:

"Come with me, Grandma."

When the uniformed men stepped out of the linked cars into the first class carriage, the target they had been pursuing wasn't in the hallway. The train was chugging along at high speed. She couldn't escape out the windows. Which meant that she had to have entered one of the cabins along the hallway.

The boss gave the order to his men to search the cabins. The men didn't know anything about the spy who was their target, other than that she was short. They entered the rooms one by one and inspected who was inside. Because this was the first class carriage, the occupants all had posh appearances. None of the passengers looked like they could be a spy. But it was possible that she was disguised.

Politely and carefully, the uniformed men examined each individual guest. Eventually, they stood in front of the cabin at the very middle.

One of the men knocked on the door.

"Yes?" came a young woman's voice from inside.

"This is the railway authority. We've received word that an intruder snuck on board, thus we are presently conducting an inspection of all cabins."

"I understand. Come in," responded the female voice, not suspecting the man was lying.

Two men entered and saw that there was a girl and an old woman inside. They were sitting across from each other on plush emerald green seats. The girl, her blonde hair done up in twintails, turned to the men with a puzzled look. "Has something happened?"

The girl was wearing an aqua-colored dress. She gave off a refined air — probably the daughter of a rich family. Then suddenly, one of the men took a frightening tone and demanded, "Hey, did anyone come in here?"

"N-No..." The girl replied, startled.

"She telling the truth, Grandma!?" The man said menacingly to the old woman sitting across from the girl. But the old woman's eyes were focused outside the window and she wouldn't face him.

"My grandmother is hard of hearing. I can answer your questions!" The girl nearly shrieked.

"Check their luggage."

The other man tried to pick up the large traveling bag next to the old woman. Then the girl stood up, shouting. "Stop! Not that bag!"

"Shut up! You're hiding something, aren't you!"

"Of course not! Please, just don't!"

"You're sounding more and more suspicious to me!" The man took out his gun and pointed it at the girl. The girl gasped, her face paled, and she sat back down.

The other man undid the clasp of the traveling bag and slowly opened it, when...

"BARK BARK BARK!" A white dog bounded out of the bag and jumped at the man's face.

"WAUUUGH!?" The man threw his head back in a panic. The dog wouldn't get off him.

"Aahhh! Stop that, Corn!"

"W-What is up with this mutt!?" The man peeled the dog off his face, and the girl spoke.

"He's my pet. Pets aren't allowed on board, so I hid him in my bag..."

"Huh?"

"But now that the authorities have found out, there's nothing I can do... You can arrest me," said the girl resignedly, looking up at the man.

Then the men tsked, not having found what they were looking for. "Hey, let's go. Onto the next one," one said, and they left the cabin.

"Phew... that went well." A little after the men left, Queen stopped holding her breath and plopped down on the seat. The girl who had talked with the men was Queen.

Then Purple, who had pretended to just be an old woman, looked at Queen and smirked. "That was quite the fib. I'd give you a passing grade."

"Teehee, thank you."

"Queen, what was that 'Corn' name about?" Roko, who had been pretending to be a normal dog, asked from beside Purple.

"Well, I couldn't call you by your real name, Roko. You got your name because you liked toumorokoshi — corn — right? So that's why I called you 'Corn'," Queen explained proudly. Queen, Purple, and Roko had put on a performance so the uniformed men would pass them by. Playing the parts of a granddaughter, her grandmother, and her pet, they successfully fooled the pursuers.

"Still, I was surprised when you appeared out of nowhere." Purple turned her gaze toward Queen and broke out into a happy smile. It was a warm, gentle smile, hardly an expression befitting a cold-hearted spy. She was said to have been quite the looker once, and it wasn't impossible to imagine. According to Silver Heart, no man had been immune to her wily charms. Silver Heart himself had acted smitten whenever he recalled Purple, until he met with her again...

"You're Silver's granddaughter, aren't you? You came with us to Jackal's hideout."

Indeed, Queen and Purple, along with Silver Heart and Joker, had previously broken into the organization called Jackal, headed by Doctor Neo. Purple had been introduced then to Queen as Silver Heart's partner during his spy days.

"You remembered me."

"A spy doesn't forget intel. So, since you've come out of your way to see me, I assume you need something?"

"Yes, that's right. There's something I want to ask about..." Queen lowered her voice a little. "I want to know about someone who used to work with Grandpa. Someone called Noir."

"Noir?" Purple's pitch rose. So she was familiar with Noir after all.

"You know him?"

"Yes, he's an old friend. I know him well."

"To tell you the truth, it seems Noir took a treasure from Joker, and I was wondering if it had anything to do with Grandpa..."

"Hmm..." Purple remarked in surprise.

"Did something happen between Noir and Grandpa? If you know anything, could you please tell me?"

"Hm, well..." Purple folded her arms, brooding on something. Suddenly, her eyes glinted mischievously, and she grinned at Queen.

"W-What is it?"

"When you get to be as old as I am, you get awfully tight-fisted. Giving information away for free feels like it would be a wasted opportunity."

"Huh...?"

"It makes me want to tease kids, especially a girl like you."

"O... kay..."

"If you want to hear about Silver and Noir, then do something for me. Something that'll delight me."

"HUH?" Queen drew back in surprise, ruffled.

"Do something to entertain me. Then I'll give you the information you want."

"Ergh..." Queen's gaze veered. She wasn't a veteran spy for nothing. This wasn't going to be that simple. The unreasonable demand made Queen fall silent.

What should I do for her...? I can't tell any funny stories, and I can't do tricks like Joker can... I'm not an encyclopedia like Spade is, so what can I do...?

Queen's mind started to spin in circles. Thinking hard wasn't her forte. But then, Roko cut in from beside her. "Then how about making a funny face like the one you did recently, Queen?"

"Fu... nny... face...?"

"It was hilarious! Purple-san might just like it!"

"N-No! Absolutely not!" Queen stood up to refuse, her face bright read.

"Oh, why not, that sounds fine. Please, show me." Purple bent forward and gave a provoking smile.

"I don't want to! It'll ruin my marriage prospects!"

"Nope, I've decided. That's the only way you'll get information out of me. You can't change my mind!"

"You're kidding me...!" Queen stood at a loss for words.

"..."

"Well, what will you do?"

At Purple's prodding, she gave in. Queen took a breath and faced back towards Purple. Queen was about to forsake her prized feminine sensibilities when...

"Shh...!" Suddenly the look in Purple's eyes changed and she put a finger to her lips, shushing.

"...!" Queen and Roko immediately piped down and listened closely.

Conversing voices were coming from the earpiece Purple was wearing. Apparently she had still been listening to the radio communications while talking to Queen.

"It seems they're coming back this way... My cohort seems to have blabbed that I'm an older woman. If he makes it back alive, he's in for a real reckoning," Purple muttered as she listened, a terrifying look on her face.

"What do you want to do? Do we act our way out again?"

"No, it won't work this time. You two can escape out the window onto the roof. I'll handle the rest on my own."

"With your arm in that state?" Roko asked.

Purple looked over at him in surprise. "You realized?"

"You've been stroking your arm at moments. Probably without even realizing it yourself."

"Then you won't be able to fight those men single-handedly. Let us handle it!" Queen said, getting back up.

She threw off her disguise, revealing her usual white coat underneath. She then took out her diamond sword from where it was hidden underneath the seats. "Purple-san, if I fend off those men, tell me about Noir, okay?" Queen winked sweetly. She was sincerely relieved. Thank God I didn't have to make a funny face!

Just as five black-suited men neared the door of the room where they had seen the young girl and old woman earlier, Queen and Roko sprang out of the guest cabin.

"...!"

Queen glared at the men. The look in her eyes was completely different than the girl who had been in the room earlier. She was wearing different clothes, too, and the biggest difference of all was the great sword she held in her hand.

"She's got the secret file!" shouted one of the men. Indeed, in her other hand, Queen was holding the secret file disc case that she had received from Purple.

"Get her!" Their boss barked, and the men all fell upon Queen. But Queen and Roko deftly dodged them and ran off in the opposite direction. The men rushed after her.

There were no men in the direction they were headed. Purple had found this out by listening to the radio comm. That was why Queen immediately set off in the opposite direction — towards the read end of the train.

Queen sped through the train, passing through one car after another on her way to the end. The men followed after, shoving aside the confused passengers, giving chase to Queen and Roko.

"How long are they going to run for!?"

"Don't lose your head. There's no way they can get off the train when it's going this fast. The girl's trapped like a mouse!"

Just as he said, soon enough Queen and Roko reached the rearmost carriage. It was a coach car, with booth seats on either side. Baffled by Queen bursting in, the seated passengers began to murmur.

"Everyone out! Or else you'll get hurt!" yelled Queen, thrusting her sword up overhead.

Shrieks rang out, and the conductor and passengers all started to rush towards the forward cars. At the same time, the men in black caught up to where Queen was. Wading through the waves of passengers, the men entered the rearmost carriage. Now the only ones inside of it were Queen, Roko, and the men.

Queen stood at the very back of the carriage, standing off against the men.

"Say your prayers, missy." Five suited men stopped in the middle of the carriage and took out their guns. "We're gonna turn you into Swiss cheese!"

"Now, Roko!"

At Queen's signal, Roko stepped forward. Then he unhinged his jaw and let out a prodigious cry of "ARFFFFFFFFFFF!!"

His bark shrilled in the ears of the men. Their faces scrunched up and they clutched their heads in agony. "URRRGHH! W-What was that!?"

This was Roko's ability.

Roko's throat has a special organ that enhances his canine howl. He can use this organ to vibrate ultrasonic waves and assail anyone in front of him.

While the men were gripping their heads from the pain, Queen swung her sword at them. She struck their napes with the back of her sword and mowed them all down. The men were knocked out and collapsed onto the carriage hallway with successive thuds.

"Roko, let's go!"

"Okay!"

Queen and Roko stepped past the unconscious men and ran back towards the front of the carriage. They were just a step away from the next car ahead when...

"Hold it right there!"

The two of them turned around once they heard the voice and saw that one of the felled men was getting back on his feet. The man's gun was pointed at a little girl. She hadn't been able to get away while everyone else was running.

"Wha...!?"

"Throw down your sword, right now! Unless you don't care what happens to her!"

"Bah... you really don't play fair. This is the problem with spies!" Queen bit her lip and glared at the man.

"Hurry it up!"

At his behest, Queen twirled her sword and left it on the floor.

"All right, good. Bring the disc here!"

Queen clutched the disc, vexed. Things had been going according to plan up until she knocked all the men out, but she hadn't foreseen that they would take a hostage. While Queen stood still, seemingly at a loss as what to do next, Roko whispered from beside her.

"...Queen, do that."

"Huh?"

"That thing we were talking about. Your special move! You know!"

"Whaaat?" Then realizing what he meant, Queen rejected it flat out. "Absolutely not!"

"Then do you have any other way of making him drop his guard?"

"No, b-but..."

"What are you two muttering about!? Come here, now!"

"Argh... fine!" Queen shouted in annoyance, and slowly walked toward the man with disc in hand.

"Leave the disc there," the man pointed to a seat, just as Queen spoke.

"Hey, Mister."

"Hm?"

As soon as the man saw Queen's face — he snorted out a hearty "pfft!", followed by a "GYAHAHAHA! What is wrong with your face!? BWAHAHAHA!", laughing uproariously. Queen had demonstrated her famous "funny face" to him.

As the man burst out in laughter, Queen crouched down and delivered a swift kick to the man's shin.

"Ghwaaa!?" The man's guffawing face contorted with pain, and immediately after, Queen grabbed the girl and ran back towards the front of the carriage.

"W-Wait! Bwahahahaha!" The man went after her, but was still snorting from the memory.

Without another word, Queen picked up her sword and swung it. The train's coupling split apart with a clank. The rearmost carriage with the unconscious men and the laughing man aboard lost speed and gradually became more and more distant. The sound of the man's unceasing laughter mingled with the sound of the wheels, and eventually faded away.

Roko grinned and looked up at Queen. "Nice going, Queen! Now that's what I call looks that could kill!"

"I'm not happy about this at all!" Queen puffed up her adorable cheeks and stared at Roko accusingly.

[somethingwritey]

commission: “kids in love” - a zukka fic

hi all! i was commissioned to write a zuko/sokka fic by @kurisu-80. it features a 5+1 style, some hurt/comfort, and lots of zuko pining. we brainstormed the premise of the fic before i began, and it’s here just in time for valentine’s day! 

💖 commission me! visit this post for more commission details!

---

Zuko didn’t know how to feel.

The hardest part was over, presumably, and yet the brand new emotion coursing through his body - no doubt unlocked by the Avatar’s reluctant trust - unsettled him. He wanted a name for it.

After thinking it over, he settled on relief.  

For so long, he’d been consumed by nothing but white-hot anger - and beneath that, searing pain - that relief was hard to recognize. It wasn’t hot. Instead, it ran down his back and legs and arms like water. But… he had to admit, he rather liked it.

“Unpack,” came a voice behind him. Zuko jumped a little; he’d almost forgotten that Sokka was still there in the doorway. “Lunch soon. Uh… welcome aboard?”

Welcome.

Zuko hadn’t felt welcome in a long time.

He looked up at Sokka to thank him, but paused - suddenly struck by his eyes.

Blue. Water. Cool. Healing. Wonderful.

Zuko suddenly felt the need to study Sokka’s eyes forever, to never tear his gaze away. Sokka let him for a moment, like he understood Zuko’s need. And then the moment passed, with Sokka shaking off whatever had come over him and exiting the room.

Zuko didn’t move, though, staring after him for a while longer. A new heat had begun somewhere in his body, but it wasn’t anger. It was… contained. Almost hungry. He wished he knew what it meant.

Two new emotions in one day had to be some kind of record.

///

Sokka looked… younger when he slept, somehow. Like one of the tired kids they all were instead of a general orchestrating a covert rescue mission into the depths of the Fire Nation’s most heavily guarded prison.  

Zuko watched him for a few moments before training his eyes back on the landscape around them.

Don’t be creepy, he scolded himself. Sokka wasn’t his to look at like that.

Instead, he thought back to what Sokka had said before they left.

“I have to regain my honor.”

Zuko shivered a little at the memory, so similar to his own favored mantra and yet, somehow so different. Zuko’s had been selfish. He’d wanted to save himself; Sokka just wanted to save his father. And Zuko was fairly certain Sokka wouldn’t mind staying behind in the prison forever if it meant ensuring his father’s freedom.

The Water Tribe boy didn’t need to regain any honor; he had more in every bone of his body than Zuko ever would.

Maybe that’s why Zuko was so drawn to him.

///

Oddly enough, the version of Sokka dominating Zuko’s mind that night wasn’t the one splayed out with a rose in his mouth.

Although he was thinking about it. Maybe a little too much.

But the Sokka that he’d been shown after had wrapped a hand around his heart and squeezed until Zuko thought it might burst.

Vulnerability. Sokka had shown him vulnerability.

He thought about the way Sokka’s voice changed when he talked about his mother’s murder. Beneath the jokes and the sarcasm, Sokka was quietly patching over the part of himself that he’d lost - same as Zuko.

Zuko wished suddenly that he’d told him about losing his mother, too. Maybe the other boy would’ve confided in him further. Maybe it would’ve been Zuko that Sokka would set up candles for by moonlight and looked forward to -

Stop!

That feeling was back. Zuko shook his head and limbs, trying to scare it away. He had to stop this obsession. It was eating away at him, leaving him exposed.

After the war is over, this will end, he told himself. You’re just bored. Nervous. It won’t be like this forever.

By the end of the night, watching Suki sneak away from Sokka’s tent in the early morning light, he’d almost convinced himself that was true.

///

Fire Lord Zuko.

The title still sounded so foreign and unwieldy. Like it didn’t quite belong to him.

“Congratulations, Your Zukoness,” came a voice.

Zuko turned around, raising an eyebrow. “Sokka, how did you get in here? I thought -”

“Eh, Toph is distracting the guards.” Sokka shook his head. “You really should get some better security, I mean. A couple of rocks and -”

“Sokka!”

Sokka smiled, resting his weight on the crutch he was using. Zuko was instinctively aware of the bandages wrapped around his own torso beneath the heavy new robes.

They all bore scars of the recent battle; peace had come at a cost.

“I came to wish you luck in person,” Sokka continued, less joking and more genuine now. “You’ve come a long way.”

“Aren’t you coming to have some tea with Uncle tonight?” Zuko furrowed his brow. Was Sokka leaving? Was this goodbye?

“Yeah, yeah.” Sokka waved his hand. “But everyone is gonna be there. I wanted to tell you in private, I guess.”

In private.

Zuko hoped his cheeks didn’t look as hot as they felt. Even after Sokka left to join his father and Katara outside at the reception, he found himself smiling… just a little.

Sokka had that effect on people.

///

Time was a finicky thing, Zuko was realizing.

One moment, they were children, and the next, they… weren’t. Or maybe they’d never been children at all, too burdened with adult worries and fears their whole lives. Most of them had lost people at a young age, forced to grow up far too quickly.

Aang had lost his entire culture.

Zuko had lost his mother.

Katara and Sokka had lost their mother, too. And now their father.

Chief Hakoda had passed peacefully in his sleep, Zuko had been told. Even after the tenuous usurpation attempt by Gilak, Hakoda’s time at the helm of the Southern Water Tribe could hardly be called blemished. His strength and rationality had brought them to new levels of international recognition and power.

He had been one of the most influential chiefs in Water Tribe history.

Zuko hadn’t been able to make it to Hakoda’s memorial - unable to get out of several Fire Nation industrialization meetings - but he had managed to make it to the South to see Sokka become the next Chief.

“You made it,” Sokka said after the short ceremony. “I wasn’t sure you would.” His voice was heavy - lacking its usual bravado.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Zuko laid a hand on Sokka’s shoulder, walking with him across the frozen landscape - away from everyone else. “I’m so sorry about your father.”

Sokka’s eyes turned glassy, and he looked away - unable to speak.

“He was a good man,” Zuko continued. “And he would be proud of you. I know it.”

Without warning, Sokka threw his arms around Zuko, burying his head in his shoulder. Surprised, Zuko stayed frozen, wishing he could do more to comfort the strongest man he knew.

“You’re going to make a great chief,” he said quietly.

When Sokka lifted his head, his face was inches away from Zuko’s - closer than the two of them had been in a long time. Zuko almost leaned forward, almost cut through the last bit of space between them, but before he could, Sokka was moving away.

“Thanks, Zuko.” He straightened his furs. “I should get back to Katara and our people now. You’re welcome to stay the night.”

And then he was gone.

////

Zuko hadn’t stopped pacing all morning.

He’d sent the letter after an agonizing few days of rewriting, second-guessing and re-thinking.

But he’d finally done it. Finally watched the messenger hawk lift into the sky. And now, all that was left to do was wait.

“Fire Lord Zuko?” a guard said, at last, bowing low as he entered the room. “The Chief of the Southern Water Tribe is here to see you.”

Zuko took a deep breath, straightening his topknot. “Send him in.”

Sokka burst through the doors, trailed by a couple Water Tribesmen. “I got your message,” he called before he’d even reached Zuko’s side of the room. “What’s the big emergency? Where’s the threat?”

Sokka looked strong - a powerful and more confident version of himself. Being the leader of the Southern Water Tribe had been good for him.

Zuko glanced at the entourage Sokka had brought and winced. He needed to speak with him privately.

“Give me a moment alone with your Chief,” he said to the others. Glancing at his own attendants, he waved for them to be dismissed, too. He wanted the throne room to be perfectly and totally empty.

“What’s this about?” Sokka looked around, seemingly unnerved. “What’s wrong?”

“I wanted…” Zuko cleared his throat. “I want to talk to you. About a partnership between the Southern Water Tribe and the Fire Nation.”

Sokka raised an eyebrow. “What kind of a partnership?”  

Zuko swallowed hard. “The kind where their Chief and Fire Lord are… together.”

“Okay, okay.” The true meaning of Zuko’s words clearly hadn’t registered with Sokka, who began to tap his chin. “We team up, you’re saying? Form a political alliance? Hold on, hold on - don’t we already kind of have one? Isn’t that what my Dad was trying to -” And then he broke off, eyes narrowing. “Wait, together? Like… as a couple?”

Zuko rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, when you say it like that -”

“I didn’t say it! You did!”

Sensing Sokka’s imminent rejection, Zuko tried to save the situation. “I didn’t - look, it’s not like that, I just meant -”

“You made this whole emergency up, didn’t you?” Sokka shook his head. “Just to get me here! That’s -”

Zuko cringed, waiting.  

“Kinda genius,” Sokka finished, nodding. “Somewhat evil. But genius.”

“I’ve liked you for a long time,” Zuko sighed. “I think. It’s confusing. But I just couldn’t wait any longer to tell you. I had -” His eyes widened for a moment as Sokka’s lips landed on his before they fluttered shut.

When they broke apart, Sokka seemed surprised at his own actions. “Is randomly kissing the Fire Lord grounds for arrest here?”

The idea made Zuko laugh. “Not if the Fire Lord wanted it to happen.”

Sokka grinned, and then paused. “You - you did want it to happen, right?”

“Yeah.” Zuko leaned forward to kiss him again. “For longer than you could possibly imagine.”

Finally, Zuko thought, letting himself get caught up in the moment. He understood what that feeling was now, the one he’d been so confused about that day at the temple and every day after that.

Love.

He loved Sokka, so full of honor and eyes bluer than water.

And he probably always would.

----

💖 keep an eye out for more commission pieces coming soon!

💖 message me about writing for you! send a private message or find me on twitter @/catrameows!

[maxwell-grant]

On the topic of "What is Pulp Fiction" I remember during our conversations I posited that Pulp Fiction is "Fiction that is not prestigious" IE It's fiction that if you played a part in it, it's not something you'd have bragged about when it was made. That in turn means that Pulp Fiction could cover everything from Shakespeare to Merchandise Driven 80s media.

That’s part of it. but something that’s been on my mind recently is that the idea of “prestige”, in itself, is not just something that can very well vary depending on who you ask, but also a fickle matter depending on time or circumstance. 

Like John Carpenter. John Carpenter is a very famous example of a filmmaker who did a lot of great films that were very much dismissed or outright panned in their time who turned out to have an incredibly far-reaching influence years later.  I could joke about John Carpenter being a director who specialized in pulp fiction, except I wouldn’t even be joking. That’s basically what he was, even adapting material from actual pulp stories. 

It’s kinda insane to think about just how much of Carpenter’s style has been aped, and how revered some of his films have become, and think that he didn’t have that kind of cultural cache in his own time. He was definitely popular, but popular doesn’t always translates to critically acclaimed or influential. People have spent a lot of time discussing the socio-political aspects of They Live, a movie where a pro-wrestler fights aliens. Halloween might as well have birthed the slasher genre and was selected for the National Film Registry. Kurt Russell became a figurehead of 80s Action Men almost entirely because of his roles in Carpenter films. People talk about The Thing with the same reverential breath reserved for horror titans like Alien or Psycho and argue it as the number one horror film ever, period. He even jokes that cult appeal doesn’t pay the bills. 

Likewise, the Scholastic late-90s lineup consisted of a lot of books that we could even argue consisted of pulp fiction, a sort of weird for-kids-but-not-really kind of pulp that a lot of pre-teens to teenagers consumed and was scoffed at by adults until years down the line, where more people are rediscovering the fun and creativity of Goosebumps, and just how incredibly hard-hitting and mature and well-written Animorphs was, despite the goofy covers.

What’s happening to pulp fiction right now, and might have actually been happening for a while, is that it’s turned to a level of niche, underground obscurity that’s usually only found and appreciated by fans who go looking for it. Sci-fi fans who don’t have much patience to discuss Star Wars or Star Trek go poking around Asimov and Vogt. Fans of fantasy who want something other than GoT or Tolkien knock-offs start finding REH, and if Conan isn’t to their taste, Moorcock’s Elric is right around the corner with all the Blue Oyster Cult songs to accompany reading.

Horror fans who were sick of slashers and jumpscares rediscovered Lovecraft and made it an internet sensation, before everyone got sick of diet Cthulhus and uncomfortable with Lovecraft’s racism so they thought “you know what, we don’t need this guy, let’s just take this cosmic horror thing for a spin ourselves” and that’s how we get stuff like Bloodborne and so many entries in The SCP Foundation all trying to top each other in brain-breaking eldritch monsters. Superhero fans who’ve exhausted themselves on MCU blockbusters and characters from The Big Two start digging into the history of their characters and stumble upon the pulp heroes, darker and more mysterious and more out-of-reach, from a time that’s slipped through our fingers, in pages that no longer exist outside of records and hearsay, and they want to know more. 

It’s not that pulp fiction itself has changed, it hasn’t become more “respectable”, but our culture has changed, and will continue to change, and as a rule, things that are not in the limelight, things that are not “mainstream” will always have a cool appeal to them that the “mainstream” stuff does not. Superhero parodies are in vogue right now partially because superhero films have become the undisputed top dogs of the blockbuster landscape, and therefore, everything else has to exist either in reference to it, or trying to contrast it. 

Pulp fiction nowadays occupies a spot in the cultural conscious that’s a lot closer to things like indie games or arthouse films, than the blockbuster juggernauts and mass-appeal entertainment that they were, in all honesty, originally designed to be like. We constantly see media that’s inspired by pulps, in one way or another, achieve great popularity and acclaim, the likes of which seemed eons away from their inspirations.

People who’ve read pulps, people who obsessively know facts about them, nowadays get to talk about them to others as if they are purveyors of hidden knowledge, readers and scholars of ancient texts that have secretly influenced everything the common plebs enjoy and are ignorant about. Obnoxious? Maybe, if not incredibly so, I ramble these things on Tumblr for a reason. But hardly something that would be possible if pulps nowadays really were still not something you’d brag about experiencing. 

Definitely not what you’d expect from something once literally used as toilet paper.

[1morefairytale]

Prompt 30: Abstracted

((Hooboy. This one is not good. But it's done!))

“You know I wouldn’t normally ask this of you. I wouldn’t normally ask anything at all, really, because I know you’re busy with your own things and I don’t want to inconvenience or bother you because I know that irritates you, but I don’t think I can do this without you and it’s not the sort of thing that I can ask anyone else. I definitely can’t ask anyone official for this. Not that I’m saying that someone official would be better or anything. Because in this case? They wouldn’t! But I recently learned that I’m not especially good at climbing-- “

Malika had just walked in the door of the La Noscean daycare when she was accosted by… whatever this was. She’d only come here because it was the closest safe place where she could get some sleep in a bedroom that had been specifically set up for her. She didn’t have any interest in watching over children, or getting to know the members of this free company as dear friends, or, really, interacting with anyone here at all. She definitely hadn’t had any plans to have a conversation about… whatever this was… with the green-haired, goody-goody Raen who worked here.

“Uh.” Malika said blankly and then blinked as she tried to figure out what in the seven hells was even being asked of her. “Hi, Saachi.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Saachi grimaced. “I should have said hi first.”

“No problem,” Malika assured her. Then, pretending she had not heard any part of the rambling request at all, she began moving towards her room. “Goodnight.”

“Oh,” The Raen flushed slightly, embarrassed to be put in a situation where she had to make the request all over again. As far as Malika was concerned, she didn’t have to make the request again. She’d hoped that her walking away from it would make the polite Raen too uncomfortable to attempt again. Alas. “Oh. I was hoping I could ask you for a favor. Which I’m very sorry about because you look very tired. And I wouldn’t normally ask you but--”

Oh no. Not the whole thing all over again! Malika closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then smiled when she opened them again. “Right. Ok!” She put a hand up to stop the poor girl. “Tell me again what you’re wanting? But give me the short version. Like the very very very short version. Like the one sentence version.”

“Ah. Ah hah,” Saachi chuckled nervously, fully aware that she was very bad at giving ‘very very very short, one sentence version’ of anything. “Right. So. I need you to steal something.”

Malika’s eyebrows shot right up. Her ears did too. She was suddenly interested.

“Oh no.” Saachi lamented. “That was one sentence on its own. I’m really bad at--”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Malika assured her. “And being a ‘hero in training’ as you call yourself, you don’t steal things, huh”

“Not usually,” Saachi answered a bit awkwardly. “It’s less about trying to be a hero and more about--”

“Ok. So what am I stealing? Why?”

Saachi took a deep breath and exalted it slowly through her nose to calm her nerves. “It’s really really bad is why. Gods knows I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t really really bad...but it is. If I were better at climbing I’d do it myself. I wish I could do it myself. But I’m slow and noisy and this is really a matter of discretion because the person involved doesn’t have a great record of being trustworthy and--

“Saachi,” Malika said again patiently. “What am I stealing? Why?”

“On a job with the Adders my team uncovered a magical artifact. It’s a book. It has no title. It’s got a very simple binding and a very basic brown cover. It looks, honestly, just like a blank journal. It didn’t even look very ancient to me. Like you could just find this journal in any bookstore in Eorzea. And that’s exactly the problem. It’s not a blank journal at all. Well, I mean it kind of is? The thing is--- this is a book that hasn’t been written… yet. It writes itself as you read it. The way the scholars talked about it is that it is a book that is created somewhat out of time and can’t be written until it’s read. But for the person who does read it, it can lead them to-- well, the scholars said insanity is the best case scenario.”

“The best case scenario is going crazy?” Malika didn’t have the energy to ask how a book could possibly be “out of time” or not be written until it was read. She definitely didn’t have the energy to listen to the theoretical explanation of it at this moment either. She was certain it wouldn’t lead her to any greater understanding of how artifacts worked and that it would definitely just eat up more time. “What’s the worst case?”

“They think it could be like some kind of contagion. Interaction with the person who read the book could make the people around them crazy.”

“Ah,” Malika answered. “Ok. We’re on the same page then… Apologies for the pun… Anyroad, it sounds really really bad. It also sounds stupid, strange and unlikely. But,” she sighed, “No more so than any other artifact I’ve heard of, I guess.” It would be forever a mystery to Saachi and Malika both what could inspire people who made artifacts to create items like this.

Malika shook her head, “But if you found the book and gave it to the Adders, why am I stealing it?”

“Well, it looks like any other blank book, remember?”

“Uh huh.”

“So… one of the Adders on the job got it confused with another book. They took and vaulted an actual regular book and this led to that, I guess, and now an Ul’dahn noble has this book. We can’t just go asking for the book--”

“Why?” Malika asked, unconvinced. “My guess is that if you knock on someone’s door and ask to have a blank journal because, and I quote, ‘Best case scenario: If you open the pages and read it-- don’t ask me how you read a blank journal, you just do-- it will make you insane. Worst case: it makes everyone insane.’ that they will probably have a lot less interest in using it as a diary for all the things they get up to and people they push around day to day. Hard to get much out of being a wealthy asshole if you’re too crazy to enjoy it.”

Saachi frowned and then shrugged her shoulders, conceding the point that it would, certainly, be difficult to enjoy being a noble if narcissism was somehow replaced by full-blown madness.

“Well. It’s just as likely that hearing that they have a powerful artifact that could have such a devastating effect on people would make them want to -keep- the journal and use it as a weapon. As you pointed out, this is a very influential and wealthy person. This noble, in particular, enjoys collecting rare items. Getting this item, even just asking for it, would surely have political repercussions. So we’d really prefer they not even know about this.” Saachi wiped her hands, sweaty from nerves, on her apron and continued. “Which is why, ideally, we’d get in without anyone noticing and switch that book for an actual journal. Then they’d never even know what happened. But the house is staffed. There are maids, butlers, guards, dogs, the works. And we suspect the book will be on the third floor in the study, the library, or the bedroom. If you can get to the backyard of this place without being seen, you can get into the windows of each of those locations. But you have to be quiet.” Saachi wrung her hands nervously and sucked on the inside of her cheek. “And you can’t be caught.”

“Ok, boss. So you want me to sneak around this well-fortified mansion after climbing to the third floor, evading all possible people that could be up there--”

“--and any alarms,” Saachi dutifully pointed out.

“--And any alarms. Right. Try to find this specific non-descript book in possibly a study or a library that will be full of books and hope I get the right one without opening it to make sure and replace it with this decoy blank journal?

“...Yeah.”

“Great!” Malika laughed. “This sounds stupid, horrible, tedious, and impossible. I’m in.”

Saachi blinked and relief washed over her face. Her eyes widened and a giant, appreciative smile spread across her face. “Really? You will? I can’t thankk you enough! It’s a really good thing that you’re doing. Heroic even! It could potentially save so many lives.”

“You just have to give me your necklace.” Malika motioned with a nod of her head to the opal choker the Raen wore around her neck. Correction: that she always wore around her neck.

Saachi’s hand instinctively went to it and her relief completely vanished. “My necklace? I… I but… why?”

Malika shook her head. “Doesn’t matter why. Do we have a deal?”

The why, of course, was that it seemed to be an item that held extreme personal significance to Saachi. Items of significance were the only items Malika ever really cared about acquiring.

The Raen felt the opal in the center of the choker with her thumb, her expression far away as she momentarily went back in time to when she’d first acquired it. It was a look Malika knew well. It was the look people always had when they were about to give up something they loved. A shot of guilt crawled up through Malika’s stomach and then through her veins. She rotated her shoulders in an attempt to get it to slide off her. She could no more stop her compulsion to take people’s most treasured belongings than Saachi could stop her compulsion to be a big damn hero. But Malika wasn’t a big damn hero. She wasn’t a hero at all. And she wasn’t about to stand here and let Saachi confuse her for one either.

“Ok,” Saachi said, unfastening the necklace to hand over. “But I’m going to get it back.”

Malika’s eyes widened with surprise. She hadn’t expected that. “And how are you planning to do that?”

Saachi, face resolute and proud, and a stubbornness in her eyes that Malika was unaccustomed to but had heard about before, answered, “In a sentence: I will steal it back if I must.”

The Miqo’te grinned. Her tail swished. And, for one moment, she stopped thinking of Saachi as every other goody-goody she’d ever met. “Really? I thought you said you can’t do that.”

“I can’t climb to the third floor quietly to steal something. I never said I can’t steal at all.” She gestured to the choker with her head in the same manner Malika had moments previously. “So that is only yours until it’s not again. Please go get the artifact back.” And from her bag she withdrew the very simple, very plain decoy journal.

Malika chuckled and put both items in her bag and bit back the urge to make a crack about hiding the choker on the third floor of some building. Instead, she simply said, “You got it, boss.”

[mxstyassasxin]

Six (G, 1k)

on AO3

"Alright," Harry said as he stumbled out of the floo behind his boyfriend of six years. "Who the bloody hell was that?"

Draco had already wiped the soot from his jacket and looked his usual impeccable self to match their impeccable surroundings of the Manor's drawing room. It was a far cry from the warm, well-worn, furnishings of the rustic muggle pub they had just left Blaise at with his most recent conquest after their double date.

"Who was who, darling?" Draco asked distractedly, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.

"Don't play dumb, darling," Harry narrowed his eyes. "What happened to Anna? She was sweet, I liked her."

"Yes, well so did Blaise. But I guess he likes Christine now. Charlotte? Or was it Caroline? I swear it began with a C."

Draco was already walking towards the drinks cabinet to pour them each a glass of firewhisky. He knew Harry so well at this point that the alcohol would be necessary as they discussed the recent development of Blaise's love life. Although he did find it adorable that Harry still held onto romantic ideals. Not that he would ever speak that out loud, of course.

"You were right with Christine. But seriously, Draco. If he keeps going through women like this, I might have to start calling him Henry." Harry accepted the glass of firewhisky and downed it in one.

"Oh, come on! He's not beheading any of them. And do you honestly see Blaise, Blaise, our serial philanderer friend..."

"Your serial philanderer friend, you mean."

"...settling down and marrying one woman, let alone six."

"Hang on. You got that reference."

"Well of course I did. Who do you take me for?"

"You seriously know about Henry VIII?"

"Yes, seriously." Draco placed his still full tumbler down on the nearest side table and grabbed Harry's wrist. "Come on, I'll show you something."

He pulled Harry through the Manor to the library, Draco's favourite room by far, but one that Harry hardly ever set foot in. Sometimes Granger would come over and join Draco there in silent companionship, enjoying their respective books or research while Harry went out and did whatever it was that he and Weasley did for fun.

Draco deposited his boyfriend on the burgundy leather sofa underneath the windows closest to the historical section. His fingers skittered over the spines of the historical fiction that sat on the shelves at eyeline before he looked up, and up, summoning the footstool so he could reach the books he was really looking for.

Harry could be happy in the library it appeared, so long as Draco was reaching up to the shelves like that. He was thoroughly enjoying the view of Draco's backside in tight, charcoal trousers when he was disrupted from his reverie by a heavy book landing on his lap. It was followed by another, then another, each title referring to Henry VIII, The Tudors, or his six wives.

"Bloody hell, Draco. I get it, okay. You know about Henry VIII." Another two books landed on his lap and he sighed in exasperation. "Okay, you definitely know a lot more than me." Draco turned his head to look at him with a smug grin on his face. "I only know the bloody song."

"What song?" Draco was curious.

"You know... Divorced, beheaded and died. Divorced, beheaded, survived. They taught us it at school. Primary school in history class."

Draco pressed his lips together in an obvious effort to hold back his laughter which only resulted in an amused snort and a grin that he hid behind the book he was holding.

"Go ahead and laugh," Harry resigned himself to his boyfriend's mirth.

"Nope, I'm good," Draco replied after coughing lightly to clear his throat.

He was stepping down from the footstool now with a pile of small, leather-bound books levitating in front of him.

"These," he said, settling down next to Harry and putting the books on the small table in front of the sofa. "These are really special."

He began using magic to turn the pages of the books which were discoloured with age and Harry spotted the name Malfoy written occasionally amongst the scrawled handwriting.

Harry leant forward to look closer at the words in one of the books, only for Draco to smack his hand when he went to turn a page.

"Hey!" he complained.

"They're my ancestors' journals, Harry," Draco said, eyes glistening with glee. "Remember how the Malfoys used to be quite influential in Muggle business and politics?" Harry could only nod, mesmerised by the look on his boyfriend's face. "Well this one," he pointed, "belonged to Jacob Malfoy in 1547. He witnessed the King's death, gives an account of it in here and talks a bit before that about Catherine Parr. Did you know he helped her become the first published woman in Britain? Just altered a few memories here and there, maybe cast an imperious or two..."

"To make sure the sixth queen was a published author?"

"So he says. But this one," Draco pointed again, "was the journal of Jacob's father in 1536. He was often at court to provide advice on something or other."

"So, you're telling me that your ancestors knew Henry VIII? Katherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, all of them?"

Draco nodded enthusiastically, nibbling at his lower lip. "Yup! Brilliant isn't it? And that charge of witchcraft on Anne Boleyn?" Now it was Harry's turn to nod in wonder, "Actually witchcraft! Or wizard-craft in any case."

His boyfriend's eyes were twinkling.

"She asked the wrong family for a favour. Or the right family I guess, whichever way you want to look at it." Harry could see that Draco found this absolutely hilarious.

"Draco! She was beheaded for that!"

"No," Draco reasoned. "She was beheaded because she stupidly committed adultery and possibly incest. And that had nothing to do with the Malfoys. They just provided her with a fertility potion. Had she kept to the king's bed, she would have been fine."

Harry stared incredulously.

"What? It's not our fault she panicked. Here, look."

[defeatedbyamerechild]

For all of you who live in the USA, I just wanna say I'm hoping for the best, hoping things get better soon and that those who have committed these violent attacks get punishment, even if it takes long... even if it's via karma, since legal justice is not always fair. I do hope your country enters a brighter period soon.

For the POC specially, and those who sided with them, I want to say that I am outraged at the blatant difference in treatment from the authorities regarding protestors, specially when taking into account the even more blatant difference between the peaceful nature of the actual protests you attended to and this barbaric terrorism that was witnessed yesterday.

I don't live in the USA and therefore your political is in theory none of my business, but we all know how influential the USA is in the world, and so your politics end up being internationally relevant. My position? I am ultimately against Trump and against the manifestations of hatred and violence from his supporters. My dislike for Trump and for his supporters is not new, and those who know me can confirm that. I also despise the neo-fascism, the pseudo-fascism and the literal fascism that has been growing as an ideology among many conservatives and the right-wing folk.

Finally: yes. I do know that it is flawed of me to remain silent about so many things in the past and open up now to comment this issue just because it's affecting a politically relevant country. I acknowledge that many people across the globe have suffered with horrible situations this last year (aside from Covid of course). Croatia has recently suffered with a huge earthquake... Armenia has been living thought yet another genocide roughly 100 years after the first one... Thailand has been through a lot in terms of police brutality... and I'm sure lots of other countries have had their share of problems too and I haven't even known of them. I also acknowledge that I should have talked about these problems openly online like I am doing now... But I am not as informed on those issues as I am on the US situation, and that is mostly because of USA's "privilege". Because of selectiveness by the media, because of such countries being "irrelevant" internationally while the USA gets constant attention, and because of the lack of immediate consequences for other countries when this sort of thing happens in them... I don't usually go after news a lot, so I end up hearing most about whatever is notified most, and I recognize that not going after more info is my fault.

Summing it up: That coletive selectiveness in notifying those problems along with my attempts to restrain myself from posting about politics too much here will often result on me not talking openly on the internet about these issues, and only opening up about things that affect me more directly and that I know more about. It's something I am considering to improve on if I can, to become more informed on other issues going on in "minor" countries.

I apologize if it seems like I don't care about the rest of the world (if it ever looked like it), I made this post focusing on the USA but honestly? I hope that everyone in every country gets to have a better year now, or at least that things get better at some point...

[ohnobjyx]

Why does it snow?

(Yes, I’ll keep using the snow theme, it’s fitting). 

Part 3: Underlying issues 

Okay, so I’ll try to explain in this post why people reacted so strongly to this matter. Let’s keep in mind that, as a country, they underwent an extremely fast technological and economic development. I don’t want to talk about politics, but let’s not forget that it’s a esential part of every society, as it constitutes how it’s governed. 

 Disclaimer: I try to keep things objective (if I include my personal opinion, it’s in cursive and in brackets), but I’m biased because of the XZ friendly content I’m usually exposed to and by my own views of their situation. Open to discussion, but please make sure you’ve enough information to do so. 

So, let’s go! 

For better or for worse, XZ’s fans incident touched issues Chinese netizens have had for years now. People did discuss about this before, and it will probably be discussed in the future.

Let’s keep in mind that I present here a rather negative view of a part of the C- society. That’s because we are placing a magnifying glass on a small part of the fandom, so by no means all C-fans are like this. These are all a minority. 

“Fan quan” culture 

This is a big one. “Fan” in this case is an anglicism, so it means “fan”.  “Quan” means “circle”, as the people who belong to the same group. The best translation for “fan quan” would be��“fandom”, but it has more connotations than fandom has.  

So in a fandom there is a lot of people that share a common interest, XZ, in this case. There are groups in w/ibo for people that belong to a certain fandom, and that’s different than following the supertopic of that said interest. 

To enter the group, you have to apply for it, and a moderator has to accept you in the group. Belonging to a group like this is accompanied by some rules, like “be loyal to the celebrity”, “not mentioning other celebrities in the group”, “supporting your celebrity by getting their endorsements” or “defending him”. 

(We are talking about before... after this incident, a lot of groups have “relaxed” in their rules, and now they consist more in “don’t enter in discussions with other fandoms”, “don’t create heated discussions”, “be rational in your pursue”, at least in XZ’s. This however, is second-hand information: I’m not in any group, neither XZ’s nor WYB’s, so I don’t know how they are right now from the inside). 

So a fandom can change a fan. I’m sure there’s a psychological investigation somewhere out there about how these things work. It’s in this kind of environment that “extreme” fans appear. 

These are fans are willing to go to great lengths to show their support for their idol, some of them going to points like sasaengs, invading the idol’s privacy. They act in ways that perturb the normal progression of things, they are very disruptive, and some of them even try to buy votes for their idol. 

(Please remember that these are a minority, but when you have 30 million fans... even a small percentage is a huge number of people. In Western countries, these kind of “fans” also appear from time to time: stalkers that go to great lengths to chase a celebrity). 

The fandom culture has shapen how the entertainment industry works. It’s a symbiotic relationship: 

Celebrities are successful and popular thanks to their fans, who all belong to a fandom with their name. They depend on them, as fans are more likely to watch a film or a drama if their favourite actor/actress appears in it, no matter what genre (that’s why companies also analyse what kind of people conforms their fandom, to target the kind of genre would more likely be watched by the celebrities’ fans). They also depend on them for things like endorsements, as some fans see buying things recommended by their celebrity as an act of “loyalty”. 

However, fans have a large influence on what a celebrity does. The idol is severely criticized if they do something the fandom doesn’t approve of. There has been instances where people drop the fandom if the idol choose a role the fandom doesn’t like (like how WYB lost fans for trying for a BL drama, he wasn’t even casted yet), and an idol can lose their popularity if they choose a partner the fandom isn’t happy with (or if they choose a partner at all, we’ve said that there is a type of fans that fantasize with being said idol’s partner, so if they have a bf/gf or if they marry, these fans’ fantasy is broken). 

So we can see that the extreme fans are a problem, and why celebrities can’t outright reject fandom culture. They can disagree with the most extreme ones (like how WYB and XZ did in May), but they can’t simply say, “let’s dissolve all of the groups”. 

That’s why in recent years, a lot of people has been rejecting the fandom culture. But a big fandom and an influential idol can also serve to positive purposes, like charity and public welfare projects. 

That’s what XZ has been trying to do, to show that fandom can still produce things that are useful for the society, and to avoid people being ashamed of being his fan.

State control 

As we know, the cultural industry in China is subject to state control. However, have you ever wondered why did only ao3 get banned from the country? What about the page that hosted MDZS original novel? And other fanfiction sites? The website that hosted the novel wasn’t an “illegal” one. In fact, it’s very public, and they earn money by people paying subscriptions to their page to access their content, that’s not just limited to BL novels. 

(Heavens know that the novel was very explicit, and that it’s just a drop of water in the ocean: there are thousands of works like this one out there). 

So, why did 2/27 provoke so much anger? Because the accusers took advantage of the power of the government.

Fandom culture gives an important boost to economy. It’s not just about entertainment, with the endorsements, fandom culture promotes consumerism (people buy things not because they need it, but because it’s endorsed by their favourite artist). 

That’s why the government doesn’t only tolerate them, but even promotes secretly this kind of culture by not strictly enforcing laws and regulations. That’s why websites and novels that don’t comply with Chinese censorship laws have been “allowed” to exist until now (take for example the whole “danmei” genre, that MDZS belongs to). As long as no one reports them, the state will turn a blind eye to these kind of websites.

(Many of you may be asking, if a novel is “allowed”, why censor the tv drama? Well... the cover of the book wasn’t even remotely explicit, but videos and images of two men kissing each other, that’d definitely be banned by the government. Text is subtler that a picture, I suppose). 

In words of a former worker of the state regulation department, if there exists such a content, it needs to be censored. However, this places the regulation department in a tight spot, because it subjects them to rejection from the people and the anger of the commercial companies. 

Usually what if there’s no report, the department won’t investigate even if they’ve heard that the content is questionable, but if it’s reported, they must look into it. 

So the fans didn’t just report it, they announced loudly and widely that they were reporting it, so the department could only investigate, there was no other option. By that time, the matter had originated great conflict and discussion, and, after arising so much controversy, and with people knowing what kind of content had been reported, ao3 could only be banned if they didn’t want to people stop taking the government seriously.  

Thus, in this case, the regulation department has been used as a weapon in this fan war. This is not to say that the government is “innocent”, it’s to say that the accusers had reported the work and announced it knowing exactly what would happen.  

This has been a phenomenon in the last years: the “report culture”. People use this as a weapon: they know that if they report, your content is going to be banned. So it can be used as a threat, leaving the other party defenceless if their content is really not approved by the country. 

However, this kind of behaviour has enacted the rejection from the general public, as it’s seen as a cowardly behaviour: you don’t like their content, so you report them, knowing full well what’s going to happen. 

(To put it simply: there’s a guardian, a keeper, in the playground, that it’s in charge of the children in the playground. This keeper has set rules that the children must follow, but there are too many children, so he can’t keep an eye on every single one. However, he will listen if a child goes to him and tells him that another has broken a rule. He’ll go and teach them a lesson. But the keeper is busy, and sometimes likes the things the children do, even if they are breaking the rules, so he turns a blind eye on them. But if he ignores the children who tell on their mates, and doesn’t punish the wrongdoer, other children will start to do as they please, so he has no other option than to punish them.  Other children realize this, and soon, calling the keeper is made into a very effective threat against other children.)

This brings us to a point that’s very important...

We have to take into account that all industries have to show their loyalty to the government, no matter who they are. So the celebrities and the companies behind them, no matter what they think, have to express their loyalty and nationalism, especially since they are in such a visible spot. Even if they don’t have such feelings, they must pretend at least (but the majority are very patriotic, since it goes into the younger generations’ education). 

So before considering to criticize their government, we must be aware that both WYB and XZ, as well as any other Chinese idol you might like, live in there. Expressing very anti-governmental opinions identifying as their fans might actually hurt them rather than help them (this was a problem from twitter a few months ago, from what I know. So please, don’t do that). 

Some haters actually spread rumours of celebrities being unpatriotic quite frequently, to make the government look into it. These kind of rumours are the deadliest for them, and can actually retire them, so please, be careful with what you say while saying that you are their fan.

That’s also why XZ can’t say anything about ao3 being banned from the country, no matter what he thinks. Better not to enter that place. 

“Xiao xianrou” 

In recent years, more and more new celebrities are very good looking. So much that it’s more than just a suspicion that they get their jobs because of their looks rather than actual talent. They also get numerous fans because of their beauty. These young idols receive the name of “xiao xianrou”. It’s very noticeable when you compare them to the older generation of artists, who don’t have a face that would stop a crowd, but have a lot of talent. 

Being a xiao xianrou doesn’t mean that they don’t have talents (XZ is considered one too), it’s just a name that these new celebrities receive. However, people feel that new celebrities nowadays are very good looking, but have no skills. 

(This is just an example of what it’s called xiao xianrou. Remember, it doesn’t mean that they are talentless!)

Of course, not every good looking artist nowadays must be completely useless in anything else (we can all think of 2 good examples). In fact, people who get into the industry, and manage to stay there and continue working after, let’s say, 5 years, definitely has something more than just good looks. But people also feel that to stay in the industry when one isn’t so handsome must be purely because of their abilities with acting/singing/dancing. 

However, it’s also a fact that some of the new dazzlingly beautiful idols have singing or dancing abilities that aren’t so outstanding. A lot of good plots and dramas have been ruined by actors who are handsome and beautiful, but don’t know how to act to save their life. 

So for people who are very upset with this, when they saw the news about XZ and the comments of the antis saying that he had no acting skills, they thought that this was just another one of them, and jumped on the train of criticizing without actually knowing how his acting skills are or what happened. It was just a way of venting their displeasure with a whole other issue that has actually nothing to do with XZ.

W/ibo (W/)

This platform is a part of the problem. To start with, w/ earns money the same way twitter and instagram do, so for them it’s essential that people spend a lot of time in their website/app. 

While positive people spend time on their platform, another group that do that is haters and antis. 

W/ is full of netizens spreading hate, insults and cyber-bullying other people, but the platform itself doesn’t do anything to change this. And this happens because W/ profits from it. The more time a hater and a anti spend in W/, the more W/ profits from it. Sometimes, it’s W/ who sets marketing accounts that attack a certain idol. 

Moreover, an account with lots of followers will get more money from the platform (like youtube). That’s why people that have no particular reason to hate xz turn into antis and dedicate themselves to spreading hate, gaining followers from people who resent him from 2/27 or fans that hate him for any other reason. And that’s also why haters accounts appear and spread, and why W/ doesn’t always block them.

This is why when a celebrity or any other people who got insulted or has been systematically attacked on Internet, they can only report it to the police and let lawyers handle the issue. However, legal processes are long and take time and money, so many people don’t do it (especially idols, who can have a lot of antis).   

Seeing that people are starting to realize this, and protesting about being left defenceless on the Internet, W/ started recently a project to stop malicious content and hate (looks like just playing the part to me, tbh). 

Another problem this platform has is the privacy inside the communities and the false accounts. 

This platform holds communities where people can talk and share things they like. However, in groups of fans of a certain idol, there are also “spies” that sell information about the characteristics of the group or antis that disguise themselves as fans to continue spreading rumours and false news from inside the group. 

This is what happened a little earlier in February, before 2/27: an anti got into a bjyx group, but all of his comments were to belittle XZ and praise WYB. Even if people know that this is not true, after seeing it for a while, it’s bound to affect their image of the idol.

And last... 

This is not exactly a “problem”, but I couldn’t include it anywhere else. 

The economy and money is why XZ’s company haven’t given him up yet. For one, XZ has signed many contracts with several companies, so he can’t leave even if he wanted to, because he’d end up with a debt in the millions. For another one, the companies don’t want to give up on him yet, because he himself hasn’t committed any grave mistake (like, none, in fact). 

If it comes to it, they’ll “kill the hen and get the eggs” (meaning they’ll get what they can and discard XZ) but for now XZ is still very popular and he’s earning a lot of money for the company. So, right now, XZ isn’t a failed investment, just a very dangerous one (in case his reputation deteriorates again), but companies have put too much money on him to give up at the first sight of problem. That’s why XZ’s Studio is valiantly trying to separate XZ from those crazed fans, and declaring them from being independent of XZ.

Actually, one of the companies he signed with was on the verge of bankruptcy when they signed the contract (before CQL, I think). After the boom last year, they were actually counting on him to reverse their situation with the new dramas, but they didn’t expect 2/27. So now, they are one of the most interested in getting XZ back to work, and to air his dramas successfully. It’s for selfish reasons, but it serves XZ’s interests.  

However, companies do and will dare to “lick the blood from the knife” (it’s a continuation of the previous idiom, to lick the blood of the hen and it means to get even the last drop of profit). 

If XZ doesn’t enter the government’s black list of celebrities, they’ll continue to get the earnings from his fans’ “offerings” (the crazed fans who buys his every endorsement + rational fans buying their favourite artist’s endorsements they actually like). 

The future of the entertainment industry is uncertain, from both economic and social (epidemic) points of view, so this is to be taken into account when considering this problem.

←Part 2: A sudden snowstorm | Part 4: Plum blossoms in the snow (I) →

[thebonggirll]

Chapter 21 - Hero Name

Chapter 20

After the sports festival, Iida's big brother was all over the news. It turned out that he was attacked in Hosu City, Tokyo. The person responsible apparently already killed 17 heroes in the past, and hurt 23 heroes so badly that they were beyond recovery. He is known as the elusive hero killer, Stain. The first thing Y/N did after reaching home and hearing the news was to send him a text about her concerns. But Iida soon called her, telling her not to worry about it at all.

She knew it wasn't fine. It was the tone he was talking in. There was something different. He was upset but she couldn't push him to talk about the issue. They weren't that close and she thought that he needed some time. As if it wasn't enough that he was going through such a hard time, that the media was speaking about it daily. But that wasn’t all that they focused on.

In the days after the sports festival ended, Y/N wasn't left so alone by the paparazzi after the revelation of her identity and her family background. They were there whenever she was out with her friends, or with her family - all eager to get some reaction out of her about the viral picture of her and Todoroki. She was just glad that it wasn't as inappropriate, as she feared. But well, some of the media was ruthless as usual and so was some of the comments. While most articles about her were positive, some of them were used mainly to slander her brother and family's image. That was their target anyway. To find some kind of dirt in the entertainment industry, especially an idol that the public adored. Y/N might've been kept away from such things by her parents but she knew all about how media worked and what would make people click on their content.

But she was glad that her brother also had some really good number of fans who criticized the articles. Although her parents did have the power to take the articles down because of defamation, they didn't do it. According to Y/N's own words, she didn't want her parents to interfere or take any steps on behalf of her. That will give more ideas to the media about how "her influential family were making sure to shut them up with their power". And besides, she wasn't under their company that they will file "defamation" against them.

The next day after the sports festival, Y/N woke up in the afternoon and the first thing she did was to check the social media, ofcourse. Her phone was blowing up. She gained a good number of followers but then she did notice the viral pictures and videos.

Todoroki was melting the ice stuck on her feet and holding onto her waist and balancing her weight. After a moment when the ice was halfway melted, Todoroki hugged her close, making sure she didn't fall on her ass and cause anymore injury. Her head slowly moved forward and rested on his chest. When he was done melting the ice, the medical team came and took her in.

Oh, these pictures and videos had some creative headlines too.

'Endeavor's son and Y/L/N's daughter gives off a cinematic ending!' , 'Todoroki melts ice for Y/N, along with our hearts! ' , 'A new bubbling love in hero course.'

And ofcourse, the comments under it. Some were really nasty - nitpicking on her physical appearance, her flaws, how she's not cut out for hero course, how she could've been better as an idol like Haruto. But some were really good - appreciating her powers, her incredible moves on Iida and Shiozaki, how she was the only girl on the top three position.

She avoided meeting with Shinsou in fear of getting him dragged in another controversy, but they did start talking. Although, she knew she had to give a statement about all the rumors and she was more than ready to give a piece of her mind. She talked to Todoroki about it and apologized for involving him in anything like this. One thing that she learned from her attempt to befriend Shinsou for her benefit is that "communication is the key" and apologizing helps lighten the burden of carrying a guilt.

And obviously, class 1-A group chat was filled with her classmates teasing both of them except for some like Tokoyami, Momo and Bakugou.

After her little bold statement on her way home, she felt a bit shy to talk to him again. Yes, she did look at him with her cheeks going red but she knew she needed to do this. So that Bakugou couldn't suspect anything. He would be suspicious if she avoided looking at him completely.

But the thing is...it felt like even Bakugou was avoiding speaking to her. It just became awkward. She didn't know how to start talking and he had no idea what to talk or tease her about when he knew the kind of reaction he had on his face, the time she left.

He was blushing, but he wasn't sure if she noticed it. If she did, it would definitely feel awkward talking to her. And for Bakugou to feel like this was a first for him. He never felt awkward to talk to someone. He always had one outburst and it was enough for the other person to talk back to him. They were always fighting and teasing each other, sure, but it turned out to be difficult when both of them spoke their minds for the very first time to each other. They spoke sincerely with each other and he was aware of that.

When Y/N entered the class, her friends weren't teasing her about the incident anymore when they learned how it upset her. She looked at her seat and the blonde sitting before her, who was looking out of the window, his face resting on his hand.

She quietly walked and sat down with a sigh leaving her lips. Kyoka along with Midoriya joined to talk to her.

"So? How did it go? What did you say to the reporters?" Kyoka asked.

"When I came out of the house, some of the reporters were already there, so I just decided to listen to them for once. Besides, it looked like some of these reporters were rookies. And I just said that he is a friend and because I was in a bad situation, he just decided to help me out. And that was what any hero would've done in their situation. If he is going to be a hero, then he will help millions of people out there," Y/N said, "And I said, instead of following around an idol's sister for a topic that most of the public won't care about unless it involves my family, they should concentrate on other news. They would never get a hot topic out of me."

"And that's it right? You didn't go overboard with your rant right?" Midoriya questioned her nervously.

"....No."

"You fucking did, didn't you?" Kyoka sighed, furrowing her brows.

"Look it wasn't too harsh and they did infact leave me alone. I just said that all those companies that made articles like this are all listed by Haruto's agency and they know now exactly who are after to slander their image or make money out of misinformations. It would take them one word from me and my parents to file a restraining order against all of them and get police protection if they further continue to follow me or are seen anywhere near our neighborhood. I was polite."

"Darling, you need to understand that you are pretty fucking rude even when you talk politely. You'll be lucky if they don't hate you after that." Kyoka said.

"Nah, I just asked them to work on something they are genuinely passionate about. Not only would they enjoy it, they will also make sure it is done perfectly. And I am sure their news agency would appreciate the work when it's done. I just gave them some pep talk and support, that's it. Besides, I'm sure they didn't become journalists to stalk some celebrity's sister."

"Does everyone in our class talking about themselves getting famous bother you?" Midoriya asked.

"What? No, ofcourse not. Dude, even I enjoy some attention. You know, about my abilities and stuff. But not this much where they'll follow me everywhere. That shit is annoying."

The door opened and Aizawa walked in saying, "Morning."

"Ribbit, Mr. Aizawa you don't have bandages anymore. That's good news." Tsuyu said.

"The old lady went a little overboard in her treatment. Anyway, we have a big class today on Hero Informatics," Aizawa replied, "You need codenames. Time to pick your hero identities. This is related to the pro hero draft picks the last time we were in class together. Normally students don't have to worry about their draft yet, not until they're in the second or third year actually. But your class is different. Infact, by extending offers to first years like you, pros are investigating on your potential. Any offers can be resended if their interest in you dies down before graduation."

"So what you're saying is that we've still got to prove ourselves after we gotten recruited?" Toru asked.

"Correct." Aizawa said and turned around, "Now here are the totals for those of you got offers."

The board didn't have everyone's name. Ofcourse, Todoroki and Bakugou got the most with 4123 and 3556 offers respectively. And then there was Y/N Y/L/N with 1812 offers. She didn't expect much because of the recent rumors and fainting during the fight, but half of her knew some would contact her in the hope of getting exposure and fame.

And she just needed some information from her parents about which hero agency is associated with which other companies, if she wanted to work on her skill. Oh yeah, Y/N wanted to work on her quirk control. She needed to know more about her quirk.

"In past years it was more spread out. But there's a pretty huge gap this time." Aizawa said.

"Todoroki got the most ahead of Bakugou?" Kyoka commented.

"Yeah, it's the opposite of how they were placed in the festival." Kirishima said.

"They probably weren't eager to work with a guy who had to be chained up in the end." Sero said.

"If I scared a pro, they're just weak!" Bakugou yelled, as expected.

"Nah, I think most of them just find you hard to deal with." Y/N muttered.

"I can hear you bastard!" Bakugou said, looking at her. She looked back up, trying her best to suppress her smile, relieved that not much has changed between them. Bakugou looked at her expression and it reminded him of what they talked about. Within two seconds, he whipped his head back and was staring at Aizawa.

Aizawa continued, ignoring the comments, "But every single one of you have to work under a hero. Eventhough you have an idea of how villains attack, working alongside of proheros is good for experience and knowledge how things work. And for that you need hero names. Keep in mind, this these hero names are going to be temporary. But take them seriously, or -"

"-you'll have hell to pay later." Midnight completed his sentence and walked in the class.

Aizawa took out his sleeping bag and said before getting in, "Midnight's going to have final approval over your names. It's not my forte."

Y/N looked at the white board passed on to her by Bakugou in front of her. She took it and passed the rest back. Looking around the class, she observed some done in seconds while some staring at the white board. She knew that if she named herself something awful, it might be stuck with her forever, especially when media has a few eyes set on her. A number of people went before her, but she finally found a name. Something that described her quirk and, well, she heard a conspiracy theory about it. Slowly, Y/N raised her hand as Midnight called her.

She blushed looking at the whole class staring at her and said, "I-I like the name - Europa." She immediately heard Midnight's enthusiastic voice reacting to her choice of hero name, and felt relieved.

"Excellent choice! You named it after Jupiter's moon which has an ocean of liquid water beneath the ice?"

"Yes ma'am." She smiled in contentment and went back to her seat.

She peeked from behind Bakugou's shoulder trying to look at his name. He immediately shot his head back and looked at her with a frown, feeling her presence. He was finding it difficult to come up with a name.

"What?" Y/N asked with an innocent face.

"Don't put that crap in front of me grandma."

"...I told you to stop calling me that." Y/N smacked his shoulder lightly.

Bakugou didn't react to it and got up to present his hero name, King Explosion Murder, which amused Y/N and she hid her face, trying not to laugh out loud. He was told to change it but once again, he just changed the word King to Lord.

Aizawa got out from his sleeping bag, and rearranged the forms saying, "Now that everyone has decided on their hero names, we can go back to talk about your upcoming internships. That will last for one week. As for who you'll be working with, those of you are mentioned on board and got offers will get to choose from them. Everyone else will have a different list. You've a lot to think about. There are around 48 agencies around the country who've agreed to take on interns from your class. Each agency has a different specialty that it's heroes focus on, keep that in mind. So think carefully and turn in your choices before the weekend. You're dismissed."

After putting much thought about what agency to join, she decided to take on the offer from the Aquamarine Agency near Tokyo Bay. She did some research and found out the kind of agency it was. Since Tokyo is a busy city, there are agencies that handle small parts of the city. And the biggest agency working to keep the waters of Tokyo Bay safe was this particular agency. Since it is a big city, there's also a few murders and deaths that the agency has to inform to the police. And often they have to fight villains to avoid such instances. The risk was high, but if Y/N wanted to put effort on controlling her quirk and learning about strength, offensive techniques as well as the defensive ones, she had to work here.

It wasn't so surprising for her to find that Bakugou joined the No.4 Hero Jeanist. She figured, he would join something that was top dog, something that dealt with more fights. Midoriya got one offer from someone and he wanted to join, because he trained All Might as well. Kyoka joined Death Arms Hero Agency and Todoroki joined Endeavor. She guessed it was Midoriya's influence that made him finally be able to handle stuffs about his father maturely. But the one that bugged her the most was Iida's choice of agency. She didn't know whether it was just a coincidence but she had every reason to doubt considering the location of the agency was Hosu City.

Maybe she was just overthinking, but Y/N felt something was going on with Iida. Midoriya and Ochaco told him to talk to them when everyone was at the station with their luggage, leaving for their internship. He replied with just a 'yes' and left.

His smile should've been enough to convince them, but it wasn't. His body language was screaming the exact opposite.

Chapter 22

SEASON - II

Ignite

MASTERLIST

tags: @captncappuccino​

[herkawaiinovels]

[SS] Chapter 2 Part 5

"Then what else did you want to talk about?"

Roman asked without worrying about Prillance's condition.

“…I'm here to ask for an engagement.”

There were still slight tremors in Prillance’s voice as she spit out her words. Roman liked this frightened appearance of Prillance. Fools rush in where angels fear to tread[1]. It wasn’t pleasant for him when she was chasing him around.

“You are? Lady Weiand, I don’t get engaged to just anyone.”

Roman laughed as if he heard something funny. Roman knew it would be most advantageous for him to marry Prillance, daughter of Marquis Weiand, the most influential family in the empire.

However, Roman didn't like Prillance's terrible temperament and obsession towards him.

One of the things he hated the most was her behaviour of trying to control others. Hence, he ruled out Lady Weiand altogether. As a result, he was now engaged in a deal with Viscount Royne.

For him, marriage meant just that.

“I know I am lacking. So I came to make an offer.”

“An offer…”

In fact, he wasn't really interested. Roman pretended to think and touched his chin.

“You don’t have to accept it.”

She added quickly.

“Then I’ll listen and decide.”

When Roman's permission fell, Prillance slightly shook her head to shake off her fears at the moment.

“If you get engaged to me, you can use the Marquis’ power to help the kingdom of Barua.”

“That help… I am not very interested.”

Roman cut her off. It wasn't that he couldn't calculate it. There was definitely a lot to gain from marrying Lady Weiand. Nonetheless, Roman decided to give up those gains because he hated Prillance.

“Since the Marquis estate is around a border, we have the privilege of having security based on that. It can't be bought with money, and it will definitely help the kingdom of Barua.”

“…You're talking about the Weiand family’s First Order of Knights.”

Prillance nodded at Roman’s words. It was an unexpected answer. He thought that Prillance would, of course, only talk about money, honor, and dowry.

“Also, I will no longer bother Duke in the future. This is another offer I give.”

"That’s the most attractive offer so far."

Roman grinned sincerely. However, it was also too good to be true, as he never knew when it would change again.

“If you want, I will write a memorandum. No touch, no interference.”

Prillance was familiar with Roman's thoughts. In the novel, Prillance was the only reason Roman excluded the house of Marquis Weiand in his list of marriage candidates.

So if that reason disappears, he might consider being engaged to the house of Marquis Weiand.

“You don't have to make a decision right now. Just delay your engagement with the Royne family while you think about it. Also, while you are trying to decide, I won't bother you at all. Doesn’t that give you room to think about my proposal?”

Her offer wasn’t as bad as he thought, but he knew he shouldn’t answer hastily.

"Then I'll think about it."

“And until you make that decision, I would like to have dates everyday with the Duke like Lady Royne.”

“Lady. I guess you haven't received this information yet, but we don’t go on dates every day.”

At the talk of his involvement with Cecia, Roman’s voice became dangerous once again.

"Then…let's meet every time you meet with Lady Royne.”

Prillance replied, trying to stretch out as much as possible.

“What if I don’t intend to meet with her?”

“It doesn't matter. If you don’t meet with Lady Royne, I also won't come. Even if you are writing a letter or writing a note to Lady Royne in front of me, go ahead. As long as you don’t meet with her, my conditions remain the same.”

Clearly, Prillance was still trembling, terrified of him. Nonetheless, she was able to speak what was on her mind. Roman shook his head. In a sense, she was a great woman.

Roman looked directly into Prillance’s eye to try and figure out her intentions. As she tightly clutched the hem of her dress, she didn’t try to avoid his gaze either.

“For now, let’s settle on that.”

She wasn’t a woman who could make such a proposal without having hidden motives.

“Then I will wait for your invitation.”

Pretending to be calm till the end, she left the lounge. However, she plopped down as soon as the door closed. Her arms and legs were still trembling.

His anger seemed to still envelop her body.

She tried to get back on her feet. But she felt dizzy, so she leaned against the wall for a while. It was a feeling she never wanted to experience again.

        After Prillance left, Roman called James. She said she didn't attach anyone, but it was difficult to get specific information like this. Besides, it couldn’t have been a coincidence that she was able to meet him at this place secretly.

“Find out how Lady Weiand found out about Lady Royne. And check if she attached anyone at the mansion immediately.”

"Yes."

If many people were attached to watch him, there was no choice but to remove them. Duke Tonz didn't need such people.

“Also, I want to know about what Lady Weiand has been up to recently.”

Prillance, in Roman’s perspective, was a woman who only cared about looking like a queen in social circles.

At the outset, he concluded that she was a woman who had no interest other than honor, power, and favor of men. However, the woman he saw today had a keen eye on the political landscape.

The Kingdom of Barua was a country where local commerce was bound to develop. There were only three countries in contact with the kingdom of Barua. That was the number of countries excluding the Arceo Empire.

As it was adjacent to many countries, commerce developed naturally. However, it was also a country that needed to strengthen its borders.

And the family of the Marquis of the Arceo Empire, as Prillance said, would be able to provide that border security. In addition, these soldiers were quite elite, so they would be reliable.

So, as Prillance said, Marquis Weiand was a family that Roman needed. On the other hand, he hated her so much that he overcame that need.

Roman recalled Prillance, who was trembling under his pressure but still spoke out until the end. He usually treated her with indifference, so it was her first time to receive his energy head-on. However, it was worth seeing how she was able to endure.

Moreover, the proposal she gave was appealing to him. Prillance knew what he needed most.

"Through and through, you're still a Marquis’ daughter after all."

Roman thought she must have learned from the Marquis. Hence, from then on, Roman no longer thought of Prillance as a foolish woman.

        [1]An idiom. People without good sense of judgement will have no hesitation in tackling a situation that even the wisest would avoid

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[motherofbulldogs]

ALEXANDRA SHULMAN: I know the efforts aides made to make Meghan welcome. She didn't want their help

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-9334003/ALEXANDRA-SHULMAN-know-efforts-aides-make-Meghan-welcome-didnt-want-help.html

Before the Duke and Duchess of Sussex married, a professional creative, well used to the intricacies and diplomacy involved in working with Royal households, was interviewed for a role by Meghan.

A mutual friend ran into the candidate immediately after the interview and asked excitedly how the experience had been.

The reply did not sound encouraging. ‘Well. Let’s just say it was like The Devil Wears Prada. And I was not Meryl Streep.’

Judging by the bullying allegations that have now emerged in a leaked email from the Royal couple’s then communications secretary, Jason Knauf, this was not an uncommon reaction.

It turns out that Meghan did not want guidance or support, or certainly not of the kind she was getting. No, as we later learnt in her interview with Tom Bradby on the South Africa tour, she wanted to be asked how she felt

I have met Knauf many times and I have to say that he must have felt pretty hard-pushed to do something that could undermine any of his bosses.

With her beautiful son Archie, current pregnancy, dashing Prince, stonking commercial deals, Montecito mansion and now her global fame, you would think that the Duchess of Sussex might feel… job done.

What more could she possibly wish for? But as we will be hearing on her Oprah interview (and how I wish I was strong-willed enough not to watch it), that is very far from how she feels.

She is aggrieved. She is a woman much misunderstood. She was, until she was able to flee to Santa Barbara, a voiceless victim like so many of the abused women she constantly tells us she supports.

And who were these tormentors? Well, first up are, apparently, the British media, whom her husband has long also disliked. But a close second are those Royal courtiers and aides who peopled the world she was expected to operate in when she arrived to live here.

One of the striking things about Kensington Palace – the centre of ops for both the Cambridges and Harry when Meghan Markle moved in – is how very old-fashioned it is; think brick-walled cloisters, Jammie Dodgers and hunting prints, strangely muted and dim.

She is aggrieved. She is a woman much misunderstood. She was, until she was able to flee to Santa Barbara, a voiceless victim like so many of the abused women she constantly tells us she supports. Meghan is pictured above with Harry while the aide whose email exposed bullying claims is seen left

KP, as everyone calls it, is actually a labyrinth of small rooms and neatly proportioned apartments with battalions of young staff steering visitors around the corridors to their final destination.

Like many palaces, it is literally inward-looking with not much of a view and a little bit claustrophobic. As a confirmed California girl, Meghan no doubt found it so. And probably a bit depressing.

The staff who work at KP, like those at Clarence House and Buckingham Palace, are a hugely industrious bunch, happy to put in incredibly long hours for comparatively low salaries because they enjoy the status of working for the Royal Family. And they care. They care a great deal about protecting the Royals in every way, from organising the details of daily life to their image and security.

I remember meeting Knauf for the first time. He was a good-looking young American (a direct contemporary of Harry) wearing a formal grey suit and the requisite palace lanyard, and I found him quite daunting.

He didn’t seem big on small talk or even the smallest joke, and clearly took the view that this meeting was mine to lose. He was the one in control. As I got to know him better, I discovered he has a great sense of humour but, even off-duty, he was implacably loyal to his bosses.

The idea that he, or anyone working alongside him, would have had any interest in not supporting the incoming Meghan Markle as she tried to navigate this new world is simply not credible.

In truth, the opposite is true. Even before Meghan arrived, I know for a fact that the KP team were busy rallying a group of interesting and influential people who might be helpful and friendly to her in a new country.

They had learnt from the sad story of Princess Diana that letting a newcomer flounder in the somewhat archaic Royal pool, where they could feel isolated and unsupported, could be disastrous.

But herein lay the problem. It turns out that Meghan did not want guidance or support, or certainly not of the kind she was getting. No, as we later learnt in her interview with Tom Bradby on the South Africa tour, she wanted to be asked how she felt.

Knauf’s email raising concerns about Meghan’s intimidating behaviour came about after a growing number of complaints – all from women – in Kensington Palace.

At that time in 2018, the corporate world was finally beginning to take accusations of bullying and bad workplace practice seriously – and Knauf, an accomplished corporate professional, had his ear close enough to the ground to know that such things couldn’t be allowed to fester, even in a palace.

The decision to confront this toxic situation would have been nightmarish to make. The last thing Knauf would have wanted was the idea that he and his colleagues were ganging up against Meghan.

In addition, Harry and William were still linked by their joint foundation and a huge amount of behind-the-scenes work had been put into developing the notion of the two brothers as emotionally literate, empowering, modern Princes – and nobody wanted the whole thing to fall apart because of the new wife on the scene.

So, no doubt to begin with, allowances would have been made for Meghan being used to a different workplace culture. The serried ranks of polite young women in KP, with their unassuming clothes and understated make-up, all used to working quietly and cautiously in a certain way, may have appeared lacklustre to her.

But reports that staff were bothered by her sending 5am emails from her yoga mat, as if that were too demanding, would have been wide of the mark. Employees in the Royal offices know they have signed up for 24/7. Pretty well every day of the year. It’s less of a job than a vocation involving a big slurp of the Kool Aid and being prepared to put your own life on the back-burner.

Although we might think that we Brits have a more hierarchical culture than the Americans, the US workplace is far more status-led, with much more visible deference expected from juniors to seniors.

Meghan would have been used to the noisy can-do ethos of that arena in contrast to the measured but often more effective British approach.

In the States, at least until very recently, it was not uncommon for employers to scream and shout when they couldn’t get what they wanted – right now. Harry’s ‘What Meghan wants, Meghan gets’ admonishment, so jarring to our ears, would have been an entirely acceptable mantra in many an American institution.

But perhaps more difficult than a clash over working styles for the team who worked for Meghan, and possibly for Meghan herself, is that they seemed unable to provide her with what she wanted. Or even to know what that was.

What was clear though was what she didn’t want: being told what she could and couldn’t do.

I have always thought that an American woman I know found me patronising because, on our first meeting when she was new in town, I suggested places and people she might be interested in. She lost no time in telling me that she knew it all already. Meghan clearly felt similarly.

One of the striking things about Kensington Palace – the centre of ops for both the Cambridges and Harry when Meghan Markle moved in – is how very old-fashioned it is; think brick-walled cloisters, Jammie Dodgers and hunting prints, strangely muted and dim

Unlike the Princess of Wales, Meghan arrived on the scene as a woman in her 30s, with friends and connections, experience and opinions all bedded in. She knew what she liked and wanted, and had no interest in anyone thinking there might be any gaps where she would appreciate a bit of advice.

And unlike Catherine Middleton, who, by the time she married Prince William, had experienced years of living in the Royal goldfish bowl with its oxygen of protocol and precedence, Meghan would have been confounded by what might seem ridiculous prohibitions and rules.

Maybe it’s not surprising that she shot the hapless messengers, venting frustration on the team trying to help, and drove them away. Her lawyers deny bullying ever took place, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard a bully acknowledge themselves as such. Often they don’t even recognise they are doing it.

You have only to hear the way Meghan refers to The Firm (Prince Philip’s term for the working Royals), as if it were a cross between the Cosa Nostra and the Scientologists, to know that Team Sussex will no doubt regard the timing of the release of these accusations as directly targeting Meghan in revenge for the Oprah interview. And they may well be right.

But such is the Oprah machine’s build-up of the revelations of this interview (and let’s not forget one being broadcast as Prince Philip lies in hospital, which unless the Sussexes had rubbish lawyers, they would have reserved the ability to postpone), it was probably too much too expect, of even our usually buttoned-up Royals, to sit back and take it.

After all, they, like Meghan, are only human.

[rwby-redux]

Deconstruction

Worldbuilding: History

In hindsight, I probably should have called this topic political sciences, or social studies, or the humanities. Literally any of those would’ve been more accurate than simply calling it history. Sort of shot myself in the foot with that one. Oh, well. I guess we’ll just have to make do.

History (as it’s defined by the Redux) is an umbrella term for human geography, economics, legal systems, global affairs, anthropology, civil rights, technology, and resources. Its primary concern is analyzing how all of these studies shaped the actions of people in the past, and the ripple effects that carried those societies into the present. Being an interdisciplinary topic, it’s nearly impossible to talk about any of these studies in isolation without accidentally overlooking crucial details. Anyone who’s ever opened a history textbook knows that with that complexity comes controversy, and RWBY isn’t exempt from that trend. As we’re told by Salem in the show’s debut, modern-day Remnant was forged by that forgotten past, by the omission of the gods and monsters that set things in motion.

It’s often said that history is written by the victors. And if history is indeed a book, then you’ll quickly find that RWBY’s has pages missing.

Let’s start by laying our cards on the table and talking about what facts we do have. RWBY’s canon can be roughly divided into three vague time periods: the era of Humanity v1.0, prior to the gods’ exodus; the era where Salem and Ozma’s first host briefly ruled together, several million years after Humanity v2.0 evolved; and the era characterized by the aftermath of the Great War, about several thousand years after the collapse of Salem’s and Ozma’s apotheotic kingdom. Anything in-between is obfuscated by the show, either accidentally (due to a lack of worldbuilding) or intentionally (as an attempt to make the series “mysterious”).

My first instinct is to start calling bullshit left and right. There is no justification for spoon-feeding your audience crucial lore through a spin-off series, and then waving your hand and saying that the show doesn’t have the time for worldbuilding. If I had to start pointing fingers, I’d lay the blame on the writers for prioritizing animating bloated fight scenes that ate up the episodes’ already-stunted runtime. I say this knowing that some people will balk at the accusation, because there exists a demographic of viewers that does prefer watching the fight sequences with their brains turned off. And I’m not above that. (I could spend an hour raving about the choreography of the fight between Cinder and Neo, or about the coordination of the Ace Operatives in their takedown of the Cryo Gigas. Believe me, I’m not knocking the absurd enjoyment of spectacle fighting.)

My problem is that RWBY’s premise is so deeply-entrenched in rule of cool that it left its worldbuilding malnourished by comparison.

But fine. Let’s, for the moment, give RWBY the benefit of the doubt. What in-world reasons would the series have for its history being believably underdeveloped? (And no, we’re not talking about the erasure of the Maidens and magic. We know that information was deliberately expunged from the annals of history. We’re focusing on the parts of Remnant’s history that deal with ancient cultures, defunct countries, and influential past events.)

The immediate solution that comes to mind is the Creatures of Grimm. As we’re told by numerous sources, the Grimm not only prioritize attacking humans and Faunus, but they discriminately destroy any of their creations. [1]

“With every alternative form of communication that was proposed, there seemed to be the perfect obstacle. The destructive nature of the creatures of Grimm severely limited the reliability of ground-based technologies.” | Source: World of Remnant, Volume 3, Episode 3: “Cross Continental Transmit System.”

This leads to the conclusion that Remnant’s past was physically destroyed, and any traces of it were removed by the Grimm. This would include archeological records—artwork, architecture, books, clothing, jewelry, burial sites, tools, ecofacts, and so on.

The issue I have with this explanation is that it’s not consistent. Throughout the show we see ample evidence of immediate-past and distant-past societies. The remains of Mountain Glenn and Oniyuri still stand, despite the high presence of Grimm at the former (and the presumed presence of Grimm at the latter). Brunswick Farms is relatively intact and provisioned with food and fuel, even though the Apathy are quite literally hanging out under the floorboards. The Emerald Forest even has the derelict ruins of an ancient temple that Ozpin incorporated into the Beacon initiation.

Petroglyphs (parietal stone-carving artwork) of early hominids fighting a Death Stalker. | Source: Volume 1, Episode 7: “The Emerald Forest - Part 2.”

If the Grimm are RWBY’s get-out-of-jail-free card, then they’re certainly not being used to their full effect. The examples I provided tell us in no uncertain terms that Remnant does have an accessible history in the form of archeological artifacts. For fuck’s sake, Oobleck is literally an anthropologist. He teaches history classes at Beacon Academy and has a PhD on the subject.

Similarly, if we assume the format of World of Remnant (a classroom lecture given by Qrow) to be applicable in-world, then that means the history of the last few centuries pertaining to the kingdoms is common knowledge. [2] The existence of this information tells us that Remnant has a flourishing history, and yet we see little of it represented in the show.

I chalk up the lack of history to a nasty habit of the writers. You see, CRWBY has this infuriating tendency to treat RWBY like “it’s like our world but…” It’s like our world but with magic; it’s like our world but with Dust; it’s like our world but with bloodthirsty monsters. You get the idea. As I said back in the Worldbuilding: Overview, if you make your fictional world a one-to-one analog of your own, you end up either ignoring, underdeveloping, or erasing the history exclusive to that setting. And RWBY is largely bereft of any historical identity that it could call its own. Here, let me pitch a few examples of what I’m talking about:

If slavery was only outlawed less than eighty years ago, why don’t we see Mistral creating legal loopholes to retain the system, like through indentured servitude or penal labor? An empire built on human rights violations doesn’t lose that disregard overnight. While we see plenty of poverty-stricken neighborhoods in Mistral, [3] and we’re told about its infamous criminal underworld, [4] these aspects of Mistrali culture seem rather disconnected from the recent history of the country, and ultimately have no impact on the main characters or the plot.

The Faunus Rights Revolution was a three-year conflict that (presumably) took place across all four kingdoms, and involved countermanding the reparations made to the Faunus after the Great War. From a chronological perspective, this was extremely recent. I know Rooster Teeth has a track record of poorly handling systemic racism. Usually this manifests in characters doing tokenly racist things, like using slurs or refusing to serve Faunus customers. But here’s the thing: a discrimination-based conflict this recent should have more bearing on current events. We should see examples of things like police profiling, higher incarceration rates, a lack of representation in media, social pressure to conceal Faunus traits or assimilate into human culture, fetishization, inadequate healthcare, forced sterilization, a lack of clothing retailers which stock apparel that accommodates Faunus traits, and so on. To put it bluntly: Faunus are an underprivileged minority, and immediate history should be influencing how that plays out in the show.

To reiterate: the Great War was eighty years ago. Meaning that there are likely still people alive that fought during it. How have their attitudes and beliefs shaped the world in the last few decades? Did they pass on any lingering hostilities or biases to their family members or community? What about in the present-day? Do people from Vale that migrate to Mistral ever deal with bigotry? Do people in Atlas harbor any lingering ideologies from that time? Is authentic pre-war artwork from Mantle considered priceless because most artwork was destroyed during Mantle’s suppression of creative expression? Did immigrants from the other kingdoms help rebuild Atlas’ cultural identity by supplying it with the values that they brought with them? What about shifts in culture? Did kingdoms have to ration resources like sugar or cream? Did this result in cultural paradigms, where nowadays drinking black coffee is more prevalent as a result of adapting to scarcity?

Because Vacuo’s natural resources were heavily depleted by invading countries decades before the Great War, did this have a major bearing on technology? Does modern Vacuo have wind farms or solar arrays to compensate for a lack of Dust? How does this affect their relationship with other kingdoms? Mistral loves to pride itself on its respect for nature. [5] Does this attitude ever anger Vacuites from the perspective of, “Yeah, I can really see how much you ‘respect’ nature. You respected it so much that you invaded our country and destroyed our oases.”

As you can see, history can’t be idly ignored. It has long-lasting impacts on the people who lived through it, and it continues to inform the attitudes, beliefs, and actions of people to come. What we get instead are traditions that only exist within the relevance of the immediate past, like the color-naming trend that emerged in response to artistic censorship. Anything which predates it, though? Remnant might as well have sprung into existence a hundred years ago with how little its history exists beyond that context.

It’s frustrating and disheartening. We know precious little about Remnant because its history either exists separately from the story (and is delivered supplementarily through transmedia worldbuilding), or it wasn’t developed in the first place. This doesn’t even take into consideration how much the writers deliberately withhold for the sake of artificially creating suspense. (A suspense, I might add, that frequently lacks payoff, either because it gets forgotten by the writers, or the characters never bother to seek out knowledge from available sources, like Ozma. Seriously, why do these kids never ask any fucking questions? They did this throughout all of Volume 5—Ruby in particular, who I badly wanted to strangle when she said “I have no more questions” back in V5:E10: “True Colors.”)

RWBY didn’t even bother to give us a calendar era, like the BCE/CE one used today. Hell, if the writers wanted to buck the system, they could’ve gone with something similar to Steven Universe or The Elder Scrolls, where eras are divided by significant historical events.

Sorry. I swear, I’m done dredging up examples. I’ve already made my point. As we talk about the other topics in their respective posts, we’ll be able to analyze these problems in greater detail.

Trust me. We’ve only just scratched the surface.

-

[1] Volume 1, Episode 1: “Ruby Rose.” Salem: “An inevitable darkness—creatures of destruction—the creatures of Grimm—set their sights on man and all of his creations.”

[2] World of Remnant, Volume 2, Episode 2: “Kingdoms.” Salem: “In the countless years that humanity has roamed the planet, civilizations have grown and fallen. But four have withstood the test of time: Atlas, Mistral, Vacuo, Vale.”

[3] Volume 5, Episode 6: “Known by Its Song.”

[4] Volume 5, Episode 1: “Welcome to Haven.”

[5] World of Remnant, Volume 4, Episode 2: “Mistral.” Qrow: “There's one common thread that links all these people together, though, and that's their respect for nature. Particularly the sea and the sky.”

[sighmurderbot]

Irish Coffee Chapter Three

Title: Gatorade and Sixth Floor Coffee

Chapter Rating/Warnings: G, I don’t think there’s even any profanity in this one

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: They meet over coffee and Kierkegaard. There was a spark in his honey-brown eyes that drew her to him. There was a sadness behind her bright smile that drew him to her. Spencer Reid/Original Female Character. Slow burn coffee shop meet. Strangers to friends to lovers. This fic is also available on AO3, it’s ahead of tumblr currently!

previous chapter//next chapter

“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.” 

― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

One exhausting week rolled into the next. Spencer didn’t stop by every day, but the days he did I found myself smiling a little easier. He was considerate, always making sure I could clearly read his lips when it was noisy, always patient even when I could tell he had somewhere to be.

When the shop was empty he would linger an extra moment or two, giving me some sort of obscure fact about coffee, cafes, caffeine, or something else tangentially related. I soaked it up like a little knowledge sponge. The way he gestured with his hands when he got excited about what he was saying always put a grin on my face. 

When the shop was busy, with suits shoving in and out, Spencer waited quietly in line and was extra polite when ordering, as if his manners would make up for the harsh and hurried words I was subjected to from others. 

And every time he came in, no matter what time of day, rain or shine, he ordered a large mocha with extra sugar.

By the second week I started noticing him before he walked in. Something caught my eye, maybe it was his cardigans or incessantly mismatched socks, or maybe I was developing a Spencer radar, but I started to have his coffee ready before he reached the counter.

The first time I proudly plunked his order in front of him before he could speak I think I really threw him off. It wasn’t a busy day, and I was already leaning on the counter, allowing myself a little bit of rest. He paused, mouth still open, and tilted his head at the cup. He then pressed his lips together and frowned slightly. Was he disappointed? It certainly looked like it.

“It’s exactly how you like,” I hurried to assure him.

“Thanks,” he replied, slowly taking the cup. I felt my stomach drop as he began to turn away. I had been looking forward to his visit, especially since I hadn't seen him for a few days. Somehow the young doctor always found a way to make me smile. 

“I thought,” I called out after him, stopping his movements, “that it would help to have it ready. You know, so I don’t have to go make it in the middle of talking to you.”

He turned back, frown now bent into a small smile.

"How efficient," he said. I shrugged.

"I like to maximize the good things in life."

Spencer didn't reply right away, instead electing to shyly drop his eyes and take a sip of coffee. His muscles relaxed a little as the hot liquid worked it's magic.

"How have you been enjoying Asimov?" I asked, falling back to a safe subject for both of us: books. Any tension that may have been lingering dissipated as Spencer's eyes lit up.

"Fascinating!" He started, and I settled myself against the counter a little more, perfectly happy to listen. After noticing my hearing aids, Spencer made sure to speak clearly when we conversed, and for the few brief moments I was with him, it was like my hearing had never started to degenerate at all.

"Psychohistory as a concept alone is fascinating, and when applied to a well developed futuristic universe it practically crafts the story by itself. The field itself only really became recognized when Lloyd deMause developed a formal approach to apply to the study of psychobiology, history, and social dynamics. Even that was fairly recently; deMause is still an influential figure in the field today."

Without fail, whenever Spencer stopped in, I learned something. The information, the passion with which he presented it, everything down to his soft, first-year philosophy professor look had me longing to go back to school. Listening to Spencer teach, whether it was conscious or not on his part, was like sips of water in the desert.

Not for the first time I wondered what he did for work. He was skittish about the subject, the first time I asked he dodged the question, and any time the conversation had neared the subject again he'd start to clam up, avoid eye contact, and worry at his bag or cardigan sleeve.

If he doesn't want to talk about it he doesn't want to talk about it, I reasoned finally. Lord knows there's enough secret jobs in this city, why would he take a break from work for coffee just to talk about work with a random barista?

So I had dropped the subject, and our talks flowed around books and philosophy and whatever tidbits of trivia were on his mind that day.

Unfortunately, our discussion was brought to a quick conclusion when another customer entered, sending the bell above the door swinging with an annoying tone that ensured I always had a low-level headache.

I stood and exchanged a small wave with Spencer. Even the way he waved, hand low, arm tucked into his side, made me smile. When he left he was careful not to rip the door open, the bell barely moved as he slipped away. 

We continued like that for a time, but as fall turned towards winter, I found myself struggling to get out of bed in the morning. Exhaustion weighted my limbs before I even got to work, and even the heaviest concealer couldn’t cover the bruise-like shadows beneath my eyes. Whereas before I would tidy the shop during lulls, I now had to pause to catch my breath after rushes, as if every customer took what little energy I had with them. My Spencer radar didn’t go off for days at a time, sometimes almost an entire week would pass before he would stop in. I felt foolish for looking forward to a regular so much, but I couldn’t help myself. I enjoyed his company, even though I knew he probably didn’t give me a second thought once he was outside the shop doors. 

It had been one of the longer stretches since Spencer visited when I woke up in the middle of the night, head aching and throat raw. 

It was bound to happen eventually, I thought, dragging myself across my studio apartment and getting a glass of water. Even the simple liquid hurt to swallow.

I winced and returned to bed, grabbing my phone. Flipping it open, I navigated to the two numbers I needed and sent a message to my bosses for both the coffee shop and the diner. Surely they couldn’t begrudge me a single sick day.

Attempting another sip of water, I burrowed back into my blankets and slipped into a restless sleep.

Spencer

A few hours later, in another part of the city…

Spencer found mornings difficult, especially since he was left only with crappy sixth floor coffee until lunch. The team had handled back to back cases that left him drained and a pile of files towering on each member’s desk. 

“Morning,” Morgan greeted as his younger associate stepped off the elevator. Spencer gave him a noncommittal noise and a nod, beelining for the bullpen’s coffee maker.

Prentiss glanced up, sharing a look with Morgan, and they both shrugged. 

“I don’t know how you can drink this stuff,” Prentiss said, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. “Why don’t you just stop for coffee before you come in?”

Spencer kept his eyes on the cup into which he was stirring spoonful after spoonful of sugar. 

“I go out for coffee in the afternoon,” he replied evenly. Prentiss and Morgan exchanged another look, with the other man joining Prentiss and Spencer at the counter.

“Yeah, we noticed,” he said. “Must be really good coffee, in the years you’ve worked here you never used to go further than the cafe at the corner.”

Prentiss nodded in agreement. “And yet, you haven’t been there in two, three weeks, have you?”

Spencer turned, coffee held close to his chest as he looked between his coworkers.

“I thought there was a permanent moratorium on inter-unit profiling,” he frowned, lips drawn together in a slight pout.

“Not profiling,” Prentiss smiled.

“Just observing,” Morgan agreed.

“Hmph,” Spencer huffed, heading for his desk.

“So you're gonna take your favorite coworkers to your new go-to coffee spot?” Morgan called after him.

“I dunno,” Spencer replied, flipping open the first pile of his stack. “I’ll ask Hotch and JJ.”

“Oooh,” Morgan clutched a hand to his chest, as if injured, face drawn in overdramatic pain. “That hurts, Pretty Boy.”

The target of his teasing, however, was already working through the file before him. Morgan sighed, no more excuse available to keep him from doing the same.

At precisely 2:15pm, Spencer stood and gathered his things. He could feel Morgan and Prentiss studying him as he unclipped the gun holstered on his hip and carefully set the weapon in his bag. Slinging the strap over his head he settled it on his opposite shoulder, grabbed his scarf, and looped it around his neck.

“Off for coffee?” Prentiss asked, tone dripping with innocence.

“Yup,” Spencer replied shortly. “See you in a bit.”

“See ya,” she replied.

As the elevator doors slid shut before him, Spencer watched Prentiss slide her chair over to Morgan’s desk. They ducked their heads together, undoubtedly gossiping about Spencer’s mysterious new favorite coffee shop.

They were surprised, then, when he returned in almost half the usual time with no coffee in hand.

“Hey, kid,” Morgan leaned towards the small wall separating their desks. “You didn’t let our teasing stop you from getting your coffee, did you?”

“What?” Spencer looked up, as if Morgan had interrupted him in deep thought. Morgan raised one thick eyebrow. 

“Where’s your coffee?” Morgan asked. Spencer frowned slightly.

“Didn’t feel like it today.”

Morgan glanced towards Prentiss, who tilted her head. He raised and dropped one shoulder.

There was no way they could know that Spencer had hurried a few blocks down from the office, whether subconsciously speeding his steps or not. Neither Morgan nor Prentiss could realize the way Spencer looked through the window to the counter, ready to smile at the sight of a blonde barista with a tall mocha in her hand. They couldn’t know the way his stomach dropped and shoulders drooped when there was no bright blonde with a ready smile and sparkling hazel eyes behind the counter that day. Instead there was a stranger, a young man with annoyance written on his face. A cloud passed in front of the weak fall sun and before Spencer realized it he was walking back to the BAU. His mind was far away, wondering what would cause a break in such a strict routine. 

He hadn’t known Katie very long, but she was friendly, and she listened—really listened—when he spoke. She was so different from his world, so unusual, and yet so absolutely normal. There was much he knew about her: her determination, her punishing schedule, her devotion to cheerfulness, but there was so much more he didn’t know and wanted to find out, if only out of an academic curiosity to understand how and why she did what she did. Why she seemed to perk up when she spotted him on the sidewalk outside, why she let him ramble on far after anyone else would have told him to shut up. 

And why, why wasn’t she at the coffee shop?

Because she has a life, the little voice inside his head mocked. Because you are a customer who is nice to her and it is her job to keep you coming back for overpriced DC coffee.

Shaking his head, Spencer tried to put her from his mind and steeled himself for the inevitable tag team teasing that Morgan and Prentiss would subject him to.

Katie

I groaned curses at the sun as it found a gap in my curtains, slicing through my dark room as easily as any blade. 

Rolling over, the red LEDs of my clock told me it was far past time to attempt a shower and food, sick or not. I couldn’t really afford to be so late with my meds, but I hoped perhaps it would be an okay day and I could slip a few extra hours past my vertigo.

No such luck. I sat up slowly and the room tipped around me. It was a combination of floating and spinning while drunk, and it sent me stumbling to the bathroom on flimsy legs. It was like I had downed a bottle of jack and chased it with that soda from Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory that made people fly. 

I almost overshot the toilet but an iron grip on the cold porcelain kept me anchored as I heaved. There was nothing to throw up, but my body hadn’t gotten the message. Nearly twenty minutes passed before I allowed myself to slump back on the tile floor, sweat sticking hair to my forehead and the back of my neck. 

It was like I was on a teacup ride at the fair and it was slow at the moment, but could speed up again at any moment. I just prayed I’d be able to handle it when it did.

Somewhere in the other room my phone buzzed. I hadn’t thought to grab it in my mad rush for the bathroom, and at the moment I didn’t think I had the strength to retrieve it. It wasn’t hard to run through the people who might be contacting me. The only options were one of my bosses or Liz, and I didn’t feel like talking to them at the moment.

You can’t just isolate yourself when things get hard.

The voice in my head sounded a lot like my therapist from school. I sighed deeply, frustrated and tired, tipping my head back to rest on the glass around my shower.

“Right, shower,” I muttered. That was what I had originally intended to do when I got up. Moving slowly and carefully, breathing to steady myself, I flopped into the small tub and turned the shower on full spray, letting the water pepper across my skin.

Eventually I stripped off the tank top and shorts I had slept in, leaving them in a sodden heap near the drain, and grabbed the soap, scrubbing myself until the water started to run cold. After I was clean and all the soap suds had swirled down the drain I shut off the water and cautiously stood, white-knuckling the support bar I had installed in the shower after my first fall. 

The room didn’t want to stay still, but it had stopped rotating enough for me to step out of the shower, make my way to the towel rack, and wrap myself in a large, fluffy towel. 

Water dripped from my body as I padded out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, leaving wet footprints trailing the wooden floor behind me. I pulled a frosty gatorade from my fridge and a sleeve of saltines from my cabinet. Setting the sustenance on my bedside table, I dried off enough to keep my sheets dry and climbed back into bed, not bothering with pajamas this time.

Thankfully, I was able to keep some of the bland crackers and alarmingly blue liquid down. I downed my medication and sunk back into my pillows, even the little I had accomplished that day taking all my energy. 

Hopeful that I’d wake with the cold gone and my meds working, I began to doze, and the dozing deepened into a dreamless sleep.

My one sick day stretched into two, then three. Fighting one disease was hard enough, and it intensified even the smallest infection from an annoyance into a massive burden. On the third day my phone rang. The conversation with my boss from the diner was quick and professional. I understood that he needed reliable employees, but I had hoped the fact that I was never late and always gave as much notice as possible for my sick days as possible would buy me some leeway.

Apparently not.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as I snapped my phone shut.

It’s okay, I reasoned. I can pick up more shifts at the cafe and the bar. They’ve always paid better anyway.

Resting my head against the wall I studied my ceiling.

“What do I do, mom?” I whispered, closing my eyes.

“Not knowing when the dawn will come, I open every door.”

Emily Dickinson had been one of my mother’s favorites, and it was her voice I heard.

Right, I thought, steeling myself. What doors haven’t I tried yet?

Dragging my laptop onto my lap took more effort than perhaps it should have, but I managed it. 

Scholarships. 

Now that I had a full time work record to back me up, I might qualify for more money. And if I qualified for enough I could take the next step, instead of being stuck running in circles trying to earn enough over three jobs to pay for college by myself.

The sun had long since set on my third sick day when I finally shut my laptop and let sleep claim me once more. I now had a small spark of something to go with the stubborn determination my mother had instilled in me: hope.

[iobjectfa20]

Ugala Masquerade IOBJECT

Ben Enwonwu

Ugala Masquerade 1940

Medium: Watercolor

Dimensions: 38 by 27.5 cm., 15 by 10¾in.

Private collection

© Courtesy the Ben Enwonwu Foundation

Explanation

Ben Enwonwu is an extremely talented African artist, who paved the way for many Nigerian artists. His painting “Ugala Masquerade” was sold in May of 2017 by Sotheby's, a multinational auction company. It is unknown where this painting currently resides today. In 2017 and 2019, the painting was shown in a group show “Playing Mas” by Vigo Gallery in London.

I chose this painting because I have always liked African art and was always moved by Ben Enwonwu and his pieces. He has a lot of meaningful pieces in regards to colonialism. I’m very passionate about art and colonialism. When I saw “Ugala Masquerade,” I knew that I had to do this piece because it caught my attention. The masks, the trees, the bow and arrows, and the colors  made me want to know more about the context and background of the painting. Enwonwu focuses on colonialism and Nigerian Modernism. Art in the form of Modernism specifically Black modernism  has always been something I was interested in. For an example, Jacob Lawrence and his series about the Great Migration up north caught my eye when I took a course on African American Art. His piece “In the North the Negro had better educational facilities” from his series “The Migration of the Negro” is one that caught my eye when I visited Th Museum of Modem Art in New York. Pictured in the piece are three African American girls who are writing the number two, three, and four on a chalkboard. I thought that this was so interesting because as a Black woman, I've always valued education. If i didn’t have the education I have now, I don’t think i would be as well off as I am. Black struggle is real and it’s something that I never want to face. Knowing that Lawrence talked about girls and education made my heart warm because girls are always devalued. On another note, education for  black students during the reconstruction period was 5 times lower than it was for white students. However, in the North, schools were still segregated, but there was more technology and educators for black students than in the south. Students were also supported more because some white educators saw brightness in their black students.

Drawing back to the original piece, I think that it's interesting for Enwonwu to capture the masks in his piece because the meaning behind masks are usually for people to not be seen. Often, we portray Africans as people who have face makeup and wear tree fabric as clothing. Enwonwu was clever to create this piece to try to decolonize and move away from stereotypes. I personally am glad that he chose to do this because black individuals already have to deal with enough. It’s refreshing to see that an African artist  broke down barriers and paved the way for other black artists. Overall, I'm intrigued by Enwonwu’s decolonization paintings as a whole . In some way, all of the pieces are connected and that's where he also caught my attention.

Original Context and Reframing Resistance

As previously noted, “Ugala Masquerade” was created to talk about colonialism, politics and the anticolonial struggle. Enwonwu wanted his viewers and artists to see and analyze the connection between colonialism and modernism within Nigerian art. He was inspired by his art tutor Kenneth Murray. Kenneth Murray(British artist)  focused on the aspect of indigeneity . His piece “Ibo Musicians and Dancers” Ibo (Nigerian) people dancing and playing instruments on a road guarded by a fence and trees. The Ibo people are wearing indigenous related garments and jewelry. Being under Murray’s wing, Enwonwu sort of took after his style. However, he later realized that he had outgrown his tutor and went into a different direction for his art pieces. He had two phases that categorized his work. The first phase was one, which included epistemology and disobedience during 1937 and 1956.During this phase, viewers were able to see Igbo as symbolism and then his studies of European art . His second phase was mainly focused on pan-Africanism. He used houses, trees, and masquerades as a way to talk about colonialism. Since he moved to European art, he used western figures in combination with Igbo culture. His painting “Agbogho Mmuo” from 1949 solidifies this change. This painting shows a figure in masquerade garments but more so shows the spirits within it. It's important to note that during this time, British people were very dismissive of spirits when it came to art. They thought that they were karmic and harmful.  Enwonwu moves further away from Murray’s style by focusing more on the true African figures and their spirits. He was aware of the dismissive language as well as the institutionalization of colonialism.

It’s important to note that Enwonwu went on a different approach to things unlike Afro Caribbean author Frantz Fanon. Fanon believed that you should analyze the system. Enwonwu on the other hand was more focused on showing how his privilege as an African artist resisted colonialism and colonization. I think that Enwonwu can relate to Gayatri Spivak and her “Can the Subaltern Speak?” book. The subaltern is an indigenous man or woman without agency. Enwonwu’s pieces depict people who don't have agency. In the Ugala Masquerade,” he is showing that the figures in the painting don’t have much agency and that they’re restricted to their villages. Gayatri Spivak states that white people are always trying to save brown individuals. If you take a further look into Enwonwu’s piece you can see that there are eyeballs within the bells on the figures' waists. I think what Enwonwu is saying is that he sees what is happening in the world of art and wants viewers to know that as well. No matter what, people are going to be aware of the difference in the way art is portrayed for African artists.  When I see this piece, I also think about Chinua Achebe’s  book “All Things Fall Apart "and it’s cover. Achebe has many book cover versions, but one stands out the most. The cover includes trees, a village,  a masquerade figure, black men, a colonizer and of course a woman hidden in the back. Achebe and Gayatri Spivak have similar portrayals of women in certain countries and or societies. Women are often seen as weaker than men but because they bear children, they are to be worshiped and protected.

.

In the beginning, I was  intrigued to see that in Enwonwu’s piece, you cannot tell whether the figures in masquerade garments are men or women. This is important because gender roles are huge within the Nigerian and Igbo population. However, the more I look into the image, I see that one masquerade figure is turned with their backs, while the others are faced forward. It made me wonder if in fact this photo does include gender roles. Could it be that the one with the back turned is in fact a woman being protected by men? There needs to be a better explanation for this. It also makes me think that the eyes in the bells are a way of saying that Enwonwu sees that this is the normal in the Igbo community and is bringing this to light. I also see that they are carrying bow and arrows -- I think this could be symbolic  of trying to fight for the acknowledgement and respect  that they should already be getting. As recently mentioned his mentor and tutor was focused on the indigenous figures, but here in this piece I believe he’s telling us that these figures are going to stick together and cannot be silenced or unseen. His other masquerade piece moves more towards the actual African spirits and African masquerades.

By resisting the idea of indigenous people being limited,  I was able to see that Enwonwu is trying to show us that he saw how his mentor didn’t appreciate either  African cultural background or the indigenous cultural background. Enwonwu refused to make gender a role in the painting because in fact he knows that this issue is often pushed to the back of people's minds. Looking at the maturation of his pieces, you see his appreciation for African figures and masquerades. He develops the full picture of what African Masquerades incorporate.

Further looking into the meaning of the word “Ugala” it is said to be something of higher education and or theatre. It could also be that Enwonwu is saying that people with education need to wake up and see African art for what it is -- beautiful and just as good as white art. The figure turning around could signify how many still turn a blind eye to the lack of acknowledgement and appreciation for African art styles  over European art styles. The other figures might be skeptical or maybe even sure  about combating the issues within the art world. Enwonwu being one of the most influential African artists has created these pieces in order to awaken the lack of agency for many individuals. His resistance to colonization through the use of his own privilege was brilliant.