#advocating for more attention on a woman-led show.

[perenlop]

what do you mean that rgu, the show everyone claims is so much more feminist than torture porn male gazey pmmm, which is bad bc it was directed by a man which means its for men apparently so none of its messages abt misogyny are worth taking seriously…….. was also written by a man.

[yanderefairyangel]

Ok so

After receiving many anons telling me that the F!Alear troll is getting people mad at her in her comment section and that they are being rude and mean, i went to check and

I stumbled upon their author note which is even longer than the actual fic

She is sharing her story and many people are pointing out that it's not what happeneed and trying to reason with her

However, what struck my attention is this part

OH God what is this... ahhh

Ok so (where to begin)

She brings up that Bernadetta and Alcryst are in the same character trope which... I disagree, Alcryst is more similar to MARIANNE than he is to Bernie and I have no idea why he is constantly compared to Bernie when they don't have the same symptoms like Alcryst for example is actually social and doesn't have agorophobia while Bernie is modeled after the hikkikomoris

So that was for the begining

Than she claims " Everyone acts like he is superior compared to characters like Bernadetta who fit the same troupe, all cause he is a man and not a woman. They treat him like a serious person with feelings while treating Bernie like a joke for being a women "that is scared of the world. Let's laugh at her for that!" Which feels misogynistic to me. If any of this is pointed out, people were quick to defend Alcryst and saying it was not his fault. And that "it has nothing to do with him being a man. Bernie just sucks and deserved what she got." Which was very icky to me."

While I agree with the sentime, I don't think everyone is doing that...mainly because of how many people actually believe every single character in Engage is one noted and that I saw many people claim Bernie was better than Alcryst for the same reason this person does anyway

I do remember someone bringing up that THE WRITERS thought that way because as the troll said herself, Alcryst is taken much more seriously and the jokes made about him aren't as mean spirited as for Bernie (FEH doesn't exist) but like... in that case it would be because the writers are showing sexist biais and not the fandom, if there are people who think like that then EWWW but the "They treat him like a serious person with feelings while treating Bernie like a joke for being a women "that is scared of the world. Let's laugh at her for that!" is how they are written so naturally many people call that out on Berni's characterization, the only reason I would argue in a devil's advocate fashion is that other female character don't get treated like Bernie either, but that doesn't mean the writers didn't have this sexist bias into play, after all FE can be very weird about female characters

But the real issue is this part, this part

"Yet when I look at it all, Bernie seems like the better written character. While her trauma is passed on like a joke by other people and the characters around her, she has a serious reason for acting that way. She was abused by her father. She had been tied to a chair and forced to keep quiet because her father wanted her to act like a submissive wife. Her trauma led her to locking herself away to hide from other people. Bernie has complexity to her character. She was at least able to grow and learn from her experiences thanks to the help of her classmates and professors. But Alcryst? There is no explanation for the way he acts. He is just self-deprecating and runs away from other people. But that does not get treated as a joke for some reason. People act like this is a better characterization, but Alcryst has no reason to be the way he is. The only thing given is that he is constantly compared to his older brother. So what? Comparison is something that happens to everyone. It is not reason enough for someone to have "trauma" like that. What Alcryst has is not trauma. That is just overreacting to what other people say."

Ok so I am using this because I saw other people having a similar take and that's just disgusting ?

She is basically saying Bernie is better written because she was being abused by her father while Alcryst wasn't which would allegedly give a better reason for Bernie to be the way she is than Alcryst

GOOOOOD

Ok so the reason why people think Bernie is a poorely written case of trauma and mental heath is because she is constantly mocked for it

Every single one of her C support begins by her having what is essentially a panick attack but it's played as comedic

But then the game turns around and also try to take her seriously... after revealing that her "quirck" is PSTD, that the game has been trying to maker us laugh at her PTSD and now it is acking us to pity her ... That is bad

That is a terrible way to write a character struggling with mental health and trauma, and the way her backstory is detailled make it even worse

As someone who often has panick attack and sometimes for reason I myself do not understand it feels like having a knife plunged into your chest and someone rubbing it to see a character that is showing the exact same reactions as one does when they have panick attacks and seeing it being played for comedic effects

It's not even the context, it's not even the support, it's the panick atttack itself that is the joke, the punchline, heck Byleth's C support and Linhart's C support shows how terrible that thing is, in Byleth's C support Bernie is panicking because Byleth caught her singing when she was essentially thanking them at first, that is BAD, that is making fun of something that happens very often to people and that is furthering the point that Bernie is ashamed of some of her hobbies but she is also being mocked for being anxious about that

And also the way she screams "worthless, useless, unmarrigeable" is supposed to be comedic but then you get to her support explain her backstory and boom, she is screaming in a comedic manner meant to make the audience laugh stuff her abusive father probably told her when she was locked in her room tied to a chair... that is just insane that we are asked to laugh at that and then told we should take that seriously later on

And don't get me started on Hopes, 3 Hopes my beloathed this time around because THEY MADE HER ABUSER INTO ANOTHER COMIC RELIEF ! What the heck was in their head to make him a comic relief who is also showing signs of anxiety ?? And this isn't even explored in detail, it's just a character you have to either escort or kick depending on which route you join I.... I....(ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh)

And Hopes trippled down on making her anxious about everything, back to Houses, do we talk about how the writers think it's funny to have Bernie have a panic attack so intense she stopps speaking and can't move, she is paralized, in her supports with Hubert ?

Like....that's just

And I say that as someone who likes Bernie, because this isn't her fault she is written like this, it's the writer's fault. Bernie on her own is a character of potential, but the way her PTSD is treated is harming her character and I refuse to pretend like it's not the case

Meanwhile Alcryst isn't treated as harsly, even if there are some jokes about his apoletic nature, in the large context they aren't mean spirted (at least in Engage, we don't talk about FEH)

His support with Alear's comedic aspect place his apologetic nature in a context where it is comedic, the fact he is apologizing to a wolf to make him go

Unlike how Bernie's anxiety was treated as being an inherently comical trait, here it's the context that makes Alcryst's apologetic nature come off as a comical trait, which means the writers aren't relying on it alone unlike what they do with Bernie, finding any good reason to make her feel anxious because "it's funny, the traumatized teenager is being having another anxiety crisis ha ha ha why are you not laughing"

Plus this support is actually begining with a clever connecting device (the wolf) that is used to show that Alcryst's personality can have some postives : using his apology helped him protect Alear from the wolf without harming the wolf and he even befriends him

That's adorable, and as someone who is very apologizing that's not something that comes off as offensive to me, it's something that actually makes me wanna laugh because it doesn't feel like I am mocking Alcryst, it feels like the situation is comical

Likewise, in his support with Fogado, that's treated as comedic but unlike Bernie where you have to wait till B or A for the more heartwarming side to come off, the hear warming side is visible right away, because of how he is talking about Fogado and complimenting him, this shows that Alcryst is very honest when he is admiring someone

Also, he has a whole support with Hortensia to tackle this is who he is and he shouldn't be pressuring himself into changing

Unlike Berni whose anxious nature is treated as a joke and ONLY as a joke until the writer decided it's time to be taking it seriously, Alcryst's self deprecating nature isn't treated only as a joke nor as a funny trait in itself and the game actually bother to show that people like him aren't hindrances like they think they are but that their nature can bring up some good things

That is a crucial difference and why Alcryst is overall better handled than Bernie, not because of their damn gender

Plus what is this bit about character developement and learning... Bernie isn't alone in this, Alcryst does that too... he has several support chains focused on that, also I will remind you that a lot of supports that help Bernie grow requires you to have some characters, plus that in any route outside of CF she just stays in her room like always and we don't talk about Hopes

But that was just for the writing part

the reaaaal issue lies with the "if you are being abused than you have an actual valid reason to have anxiety and deserved to be called a trauma victim but if you didn't than you don't have an actual valid reason to suffer from axiety" and I am just... I

....that is an awful take...

Anxiety doesn't necessarily steem from abuse and it's a toxic and ableist mindest to just argue that if you are showing signs of anxiety or low self esteem despite not having being abused than you don't have an actual valid reason to be that way, that is just vile

Many people are suffering from anxiety for various reasons : family, work, schooll etc. You can have supportive family, supportive friends and so on and still suffer from anxiety and depression

And saying that if you "dont have an actual plausible reason" you shouldn't feel that way just perptuate the same type of rhetoric used to shut people down so" they dont bother you with their mental problems"

There is no criteria that makes someone being more valid in how they feel when they struggle with anxiety or mental disorders and arguing that Bernie is more valid than Alcryst because she got abused is insane, so someone is not as valid because they didn't got told repeadetly by someone else that they sucked and were miserable ? What if they did and it just wasn't their parents or what if they do hear that but it comes from their own self because they suffer from imposter syndrome or because they are too perfectionist or ANYTHING

It is miserable mindest to tell someone stuff like that, it's further reinforcing the idea you need a valid reason to have mental issues of any kind and a mindest of people suffering from this fearing they will be not taken seriously because "you don't have trauma, you don't have triggers you are just weird" or " you are too sensitive" or "you are just overeacting"

And even then Op just contradicted themselves by admitting that :" The only thing given is that he is constantly compared to his older brother. So what? Comparison is something that happens to everyone. It is not reason enough for someone to have "trauma" like that."

Ok let me break it to you : when you are constantly compared to someone, when people will non stop tell you that this person is wonderful while you can't even come close to them, that you, as you are is bad and that you should be more like that person whom you view as perfect, that you are constantly belittled for not being like your amazing older siblings who used to be so good at this, so talented at that...

That's literaly what creates inferiority complex, why, because you are going to interiolize the idea that you are inherently inferior to everyone, that everyone is better than you, that you are constantly in the wrong and should apologize, sometimes for things you don't even understand yourself

That isn't a new trope, FE already did that with Leo and Takumi from Fates heck even Rafal aslo suffer from that, the main difference between them and Alcryst is that Alcryst doesn't cope by pretending to be cold, acting rought as if he didn't needed them so he couldn't feel hurt when he hears that, something we know Alternate Alcryst does too, Alcryst, the regular one instead just shows the effect that this type of behavior has on an individual, it makes them into a meek soft spoken person who constantly feels like they have wronged the world and need to apologize no matter what

The thing is that the game also makes it clear that Alcryst might have self image issue but that doesn't mean he can't get angry at others or that he doesn't try to protect the people he cares about, that's why the game doesn't present his self deprecating nature as being a default worth laughing unlike the way Bernie's PTSD feels written, it's shown that yes he is like that but 1) even then there is a strengh to this and 2) he is more than that and 3) that's precisely because he is more than that that even his flawed nature has some strengh in it

Alcryst is a much better handled character than Bernie not because of their GENDER but because Alcryst is actually receiving empathy for his situation from the writers whereas with Bernie this isn't the case, it's not like the game doesn't try to take her seriously, but because 3H's writing is very inconsitent in how it treats her, it all falls flat

I simply cannot understand how anyone could hear that someone grew up being constantly belittled for not being like their extraordinary older sibling (keep in mind that Diamant never shown prior to this to Alcryst he had his own weakness, Diamant was like perfect to Alcryst) and think "they are overreacting, at least they didn't got severly abused" whenever this someone is showing of negatively this has affected them

And again, abuse isn't the only reason you can get people like Alcryst or Bernadetta, trauma isn't the only cause of the symtomps they show so downplaying one to prop up the other as more "valid" isn't criticizing the writing" it's showing you don't know a damn thing about mental health

Also "He shot at Alear and nearly kills her. Then that is just brushed off and never brought up again."

What ? Don't tell me they dislike Alcryst because of how Alcryst mistook Alear and Alfred for bandits... please tell me it's not that

That is not "just brushed off and never brought up again", that literlay almost costed a rift between Citrinne, Lapis and Alfred, the reason why it was "brushed off" is because Alcryst apologized, explained why he mistook them for theifs (he and his retainers had been attacked non stop so they acted rashly in self defense) and because Alear accepted their apology because Alear is that kind of a person, but Alfred still lectured Alcryst on this and there were more importants matter such as idk THE WHOLE WORLD BEING IN DANGER ?

"Then he threatens Ivy's life and blames her for his father's death and the loss of the emblems when she is not at fault at all. If anything, it is his fault for insisting on a rescue."

(I still dont get why they cut off this line)

He got mad at Ivy because Ivy quite literaly blamed him and his brother for wanting to save their dad... like ... you are doing right now...

This is a 17 year old boy who is established to love his family dearly, wanting to protect them and he just saw his father being turned into a zombie, he possibly even had to kill him himself if you used him to defeat Corrupted Morion, but he even then he had to fight and see someone kill his dad or do it himself

Of course he would want to save his dad, he loves his dad, and even Diamant, who is much older insisted on rescuing him and let's be honest, Alear wouldn't have ordered a retreat even if they didn't reacted this way because Alear is show to hesitate (they answer "but" when Marth ask them to order retreat and when Diamant and Alcryst gave their piece of mind Alear repeats their name to indicate to the audience they understand the sentiment)

But this has nothing to do with him being mad at Ivy honestly, they went there specifically to save King Morion and even when the situation turned out to be in the villain's favors, Alear refused to order retreat... when Diamant and Alcryst wouldn't have objected because they aren't even in that scene but also, because what's done is done, Ivy just blaming it on them when she wasn't even there for having a human reaction, calling this foolish is comming across as insentitive

She does apologize for not having stopped her Father in time but it's only in their support she apologize for having slowing them down which is what Alcryst is talking about

But I'll be honest, I get where Alcryst comes from, if someone told me something like this right after I had lost my father forever, I might have done worse

This isn't to say Ivy is heartless, she isn't, but she was being insensitive with this line

As for Alcryst's reaction, just because it's understanble and human to react like this doesn't mean he was in the right... that's why DIAMANT, his BROTHER who is just as sad as he is calls him out on that...

I swear to God why the heck did you even felt the need to talk about that

Also don't pretend like it's new, you have ALWAYS presented those (his anxiety, his reaction towards Ivy) as a reason to hate him and Brodia at large, you were just pretending to like Alearcryst but you never ever hid the fact you couldn't stand him

All that's telling me is that you still believe you are a victim in all of this when you have been dishonest from the very begining with everyone and even pretending to be someone else each time you came back, you feel the need to force everyone to know your opinion about Alcryst and that is just toxic, but it's made even worse by the fact you can't accept criticism of people sharing their disagreement with your opinion and that you back that up with dangerous "you don't have a valid enough reason to be anxious" rhetoric

[rapeculturerealities]

Eliza Bleu’s Own Friends Aren’t Buying Her Trafficking Story

With striking lilac hair and a pugnacious attitude, the anti-sex trafficking activist known as Eliza Bleu has broken into some of the top tiers of right-wing media in just a few years, growing her audience through interviews with popular figures like Ben Shapiro, Tim Pool, and Dr. Drew Pinsky.

But in late 2022, Bleu found an even more powerful ally: new Twitter owner Elon Musk.

Bleu, who refers to herself as “a survivor of human trafficking,” has lent the billionaire an unusual form of credibility by insisting that pre-Musk Twitter was overrun with child pornography. Only Musk, Bleu says, has been willing to stamp out the abusive material on Twitter “at scale.” In another tweet, she declared, “The war against Elon Musk is actually a war over your mind.” Musk responded with a bullseye emoji.

Bleu’s praise for Musk comes even as the billionaire has slashed much of Twitter’s staff, including huge numbers of workers responsible for content moderation. For his part, Musk has boosted Bleu’s profile on the site with replies and retweets, helping her earn more than 100,000 new followers in December alone.

“You have a direct line to me on this issue,” Musk told Bleu in a Twitter Space live chat in December.

“When I stepped away from the gang, my traffickers lost money. And they want that money back. ”

— Eliza Bleu

But now Bleu and Musk find themselves embroiled in a Twitter censorship controversy, after multiple critics of Bleu who shared embarrassing images from her past saw their accounts temporarily suspended from the site. Some users suggested that Bleu’s “direct line” to Twitter brass and Musk himself may have led to the crackdown, even as the Twitter owner insists he’s in favor of “free speech” and wide-ranging debate.

Bleu and Twitter didn’t respond to requests for comment.

Amid the controversy over the suspended accounts, questions about Bleu’s background have emerged. Her critics have seized on contradictory videos and interviews—and her frequent use of different names online—to suggest Bleu isn’t who she claims to be.

Now two former friends of Bleu tell The Daily Beast that, at best, Bleu is exaggerating her experiences for attention.

“It’s making a lot of her old friends around here really angry,” said Carly Wenzel, a one-time pal of Bleu who has known her for two decades, who added she believes Bleu is “completely lying.”

Bleu grew up in a rural area along Illinois’s border with Iowa known as the “Quad Cities.” She’s portrayed her homeschooled upbringing as an innocent one, albeit one that made her all the more naive about how the world really works.

Despite her claims to the contrary, public records prove that Bleu’s original name was Eliza Morthland. Born in 1981, her father is Richard Morthland, a farmer and former Illinois state representative who ran unsuccessfully on the GOP ticket for lieutenant governor in 2018. Morthland did not respond to a request for comment.

In 2021, Bleu appeared to deny on Twitter that she was Eliza Morthland, but Facebook photos show her standing with other members of the Morthland family. A 2010 newspaper article about Richard Morthland shows a woman who looks just like Bleu standing next to the politician and identified as his daughter, “Eliza Morthland.” Richard Morthland also gave a comment for a 2009 article about a band Bleu worked for under her married name Eliza Siep. And Bleu’s cosmetology license lists Richard Morthland’s farm as her address.

There’s no question that Bleu has advocated for trafficking victims, especially on Twitter. But she has offered murky accounts of her own background that leave even her supporters unsure about all but the vaguest details. She can also grow hostile with reporters who ask for basic facts, like the years she was trafficked or the names of perpetrators. For example, journalist Katie Herzog reached Bleu on the phone in December, only to have Bleu become defensive when Herzog raised even the prospect of asking Bleu about her own story.

“Bleu stirred up some controversy of her own with diehard supporters of the band, in online mini-scandals that featured Bleu calling Star the n-word.”

Interviewed on Tim Pool’s podcast, Bleu said she could not offer details about her alleged abusers because of unspecified legal issues. Then she asked why it would be a problem if she was making up her story.

“Let’s say, hypothetically, it is made up,” Bleu said. “What’s my biggest win so far in public? Getting Twitter to address child sexual abuse material and make it a top priority?

“I’m not asking an abuser for money, and I’m not asking people for money,” she added.

The Daily Beast pieced together a rough outline of Bleu’s account of her trafficking experiences based on interviews she’s given to sympathetic media outlets.

Bleu has said that her trafficking spanned two different periods, separated by roughly a decade. In her telling, Bleu was first groomed by a prominent photographer she met at a Warped Tour concert in Chicago when she was 16. A few years later, when she was still a teenager in the late 1990s, Bleu’s father drove her to Los Angeles because Bleu was convinced that an unnamed “high profile musician” she met through that photographer would make her a star.

Instead, she was sexually assaulted within 48 hours of arriving in the city, according to a 2020 podcast interview. Her traffickers quickly hooked her on a drug she knew as “ice”—generally recognized as slang for crystal methamphetamine, though Bleu has said she didn’t know what drug it was.

Bleu claims she was then sold for $500 to a sex-trafficking ring in the Hollywood Hills, where she found herself living with members of a ring that trafficked transgender women.

“I was sold for $500 to a very old gentleman in the Hills,” Bleu said in the 2020 interview.

Bleu claims she struggled to get enough water and food, “because I was on drugs and other substances.” But Bleu was such a handful for her traffickers, in her telling, that they ultimately gave her back to her original trafficker for free. Bleu claims she was hospitalized for a drug overdose before returning to her family farm in Illinois.

“My family didn’t even recognize me when I got off the plane,” Bleu said.

After two weeks on the farm, she returned to Los Angeles to retrieve her car, Bleu claims, but she was once again swept up into human trafficking for an undefined period.

“It’s odd what happens to the trauma brain,” Bleu said on the 2020 podcast episode to explain why she returned to her traffickers, comparing it to Stockholm syndrome.

Bleu’s second trafficking period, in her account, began in roughly 2008 or 2009, when she was living in the Chicago area. In that same 2020 podcast interview, Bleu claimed she was trafficked by a “high-profile athlete” whom she has declined to name. That man and his associates, according to Bleu, put her in a dangerous neighborhood she has said existed on what she called a “gang line”—the violent border where two Chicago gang territories meet.

“My mattress was on the floor because we had so many shootings that year in the area,” Bleu recalled in 2020. “I just didn’t want to get shot.”

Bleu attempted to leave her traffickers in 2013, and, in her account, ultimately succeeded for good in about 2014. Bleu has repeatedly suggested that her former traffickers from Chicago might still be out to get revenge on her and her family members.

“She slept on the floor but by choice, because she was into these floor pillows at the time.”

— A former roommate of Eliza Bleu

“When I stepped away from the gang, my traffickers lost money,” Bleu said in the 2020 interview. “And they want that money back”

Asked in a 2021 interview why she hadn’t pressed charges against the unnamed athlete and her other traffickers, Bleu—appearing on a podcast with more than 100,000 YouTube subscribers—said the men could still track her down and murder her.

“I am terrified that they would kill myself or my family or people that I care about,” Bleu said. “That’s how organized they are.”

Last month, Bleu tweeted that her family knows “every detail” of her story and stands behind her. She then blasted the “corporate media” for asking questions about her past, declaring, “if anyone steps on [my family’s] property or my property let it be extremely clear that we are all armed.”

Wenzel, a one-time friend of Bleu who says she has known the anti-trafficking activist for more than two decades, doesn’t think Bleu’s account is accurate.

Wenzel told The Daily Beast that she met Bleu in the Quad Cities, where both women were partying with musicians. Wenzel was 18, and said Bleu was in her early twenties. The Daily Beast verified Wenzel’s friendship with Bleu through photographs.

In Wenzel’s telling, she and Bleu were both deeply involved in the “scene” subculture of the early aughts—a time of tight jeans, swooping haircuts, and high drama on sites like MySpace and LiveJournal. Wenzel was trying to hook up with a member of one of her favorite bands on a tour bus in Iowa City when Bleu stepped on board. The two young women realized they had mutual friends and a shared interest in music—and the men who made it.

“She said that she was going to be very famous for sleeping with band members,” Wenzel recalled.

Wenzel takes issue with Bleu’s timeline of her first trafficking experience. She claims that she too was at the Warped Tour concert where Bleu met the photographer she claims groomed her. But while Bleu said that she wasn’t even 18 when she met the photographer, Wenzel insists that Bleu would have been in her early twenties—putting the date of the concert sometime in the early 2000s.

“She’s a very powerful, very smart intelligent woman.”

— Carly Wenzel

“Her timeline is just so weird,” Wenzel said, noting she believes that Bleu appears to be “lying about her age in certain articles.”

Bleu moved to Los Angeles, but Wenzel doesn’t remember hearing about her old friend being trafficked. Instead, she said Bleu unsuccessfully tried to convince Wenzel to move in with her in California. She did not recall Bleu calling home to the Quad Cities with tales of being addicted to “ice” or living with a trafficked group of transgender women in the Hollywood Hills.

Wenzel said she “keeps seeing these stories out of L.A.” and believes “that absolutely didn’t happen.”

By 2005, Bleu was back in Illinois and eventually earned a cosmetology license. Bleu began touring as a traveling stylist for musicians, where she received her first taste of internet controversy.

Bleu worked for mega-popular rock band My Chemical Romance as a stylist, going by the hair-inspired name “Eliza Cuts” online. Bleu’s job brought her into a group of My Chemical Romance entourage members dubbed the “World’s Most Hated Crew.” That clique also included future YouTube star and makeup mogul Jeffree Star, who would later be accused of paying out hush money to sexual-assault accusers.

Bleu was closely monitored by the bands’ fans on sites like LiveJournal—particularly after she entered a brief engagement with My Chemical Romance’s heartthrob lead singer, Gerard Way. But Bleu stirred up some controversy of her own with diehard supporters of the band, in online mini-scandals that featured Bleu calling Star the n-word and allegedly authoring a thinly veiled fictional account of her failed relationship with Way.

After leaving the rock circuit, Bleu lived with a friend in Chicago from roughly 2009 to 2011. That’s around the period when Bleu claims she began to be sex-trafficked again by the unnamed athlete in a violence-plagued neighborhood.

But that’s not how her former roommate, who asked The Daily Beast not to use her name out of fear of backlash from Bleu’s fans, remembers it. Instead, she said the pair lived in Wicker Park, an affluent, trendy Chicago neighborhood. The roommate said Bleu’s parents were “always supportive financially.”

“She was not in a precarious situation,” the roommate told The Daily Beast in a text message.

The roommate does remember Bleu sleeping on the floor, though not because of bullets.

“She slept on the floor but by choice, because she was into these floor pillows at the time,” the friend told The Daily Beast, though she added that Bleu “eventually bought a bed.”

Like the ex-roommate, Wenzel scoffs at the idea that Bleu lived in a dangerous neighborhood. Wenzel, who by then was married with a child, said she brought her toddler to visit Bleu and the roommate at their apartment—hardly the front line of a gang war.

“That is so not true,” Wenzel said. “She lived in a really cute apartment. They’re the whitest girls you could ever meet. There was no gang activity.”

Around this time, Bleu resurfaced online as “Eliza Siep” in 2010, unsuccessfully auditioning for American Idol using a surname she had picked up during a short-lived marriage. But she soon moved on to a new name and another position in the music industry. Now she would become “Eliza Knows,” the sultry, self-proclaimed music “video vixen.”

“Donewald defended Bleu from skeptics earlier this month, tweeting that Bleu is ‘the real deal.’ ”

Under her new online name, Bleu began to dance as a “video vixen” in mostly low-budget music videos. A YouTube playlist that appears to have been compiled by Bleu herself shows her gyrating in videos from 2012 and 2013 with song titles like “Feelin’ Myself” and “A Million Ways to Love You.”

In one 2012 video Bleu posted to YouTube, she filmed herself calling her mother to shock her with the news that she’d become a music-video dancer—only to discover that her mother was happy for her. In the video, Bleu told her mother she wanted to become a music-video dancer because of her childhood admiration for the “Fly Girls,” dancers on the comedy show In Living Color.

Bleu also gave interviews about the video-vixen lifestyle. In 2016, Bleu, speaking in a markedly different voice than the one she used in earlier media appearances and the one she uses today, claimed that she had rejected an offer to have sex with a client for $150,000.

“It’s a nice offer, but it’s not me,” Bleu said.

Still, it appears that Bleu may have engaged in some kind of sex work around this time. In one interview, Bleu advertised her account on a now-defunct camgirl website where men could pay money to talk with her.

Around 2016, Wenzel claims that Bleu asked her to join her as an escort, promising that Wenzel could make $500 in a night—an offer that stunned Wenzel and her husband.

“She was absolutely loving it,” Wenzel said. “She was bragging about it, saying she was making so much money.”

Bleu later suggested that sex workers with a pimp might qualify as trafficking victims, though Wenzel said she didn’t meet any pimp or trafficker when she socialized with Bleu, be it an unnamed “high profile athlete” or otherwise.

“She’s a very powerful, very smart intelligent woman, I will not discredit her for that,” Wenzel said. “She knows exactly what she’s doing.”

As proof that she was trafficked, Bleu often cites the organization she says “saved my life”: Eve’s Angels, a Christian nonprofit that serves sex trafficking victims and women seeking to leave the commercial sex industry.

In her telling, Bleu—living in her gangland apartment in 2013 and desperate to leave her traffickers—contacted Eve’s Angels after discovering founder Anny Donewald through a YouTube video. (In another recent tweet, Bleu claimed to have found the group via a web address in a Bible the group left at a strip club.) The group soon spirited Bleu away from her traffickers and into a safehouse “three states away.” In her account, Bleu claims she briefly returned to her traffickers after that escape, but eventually escaped the traffickers’ clutches for good around 2014.

Donewald defended Bleu from skeptics earlier this month, tweeting that Bleu is “the real deal.” But, like Bleu, Donewald’s claims about sex trafficking in her own life have come under scrutiny.

In 2018, Donewald’s parents and brother filed a defamation suit against Donewald and Eve’s Angels. While Donewald and her children were living with her family members in Michigan, Donewald’s parents “confronted her about her ‘treatment of her daughter,’” according to the lawsuit. In response, Donewald and her group accused her parents of sexually abusing and trafficking children, according to a 2022 appeals court opinion.

Donewald took the case to police, leading to a criminal investigation into her parents but no charges. Donewald’s claims fell apart after her daughter told her grandparents that Donewald had told her to fabricate the claims in an attempt to score a “pay-off” from the grandparents, the appeals court opinion found.

The activist was ordered to pay a judgment of more than $47,000, plus legal fees. As of the May 2022 appeals court ruling, the family was still stalled in settlement talks, with Donewald denying the defamation claims.

Donewald did not respond to requests to comment. Eve’s Angels did not return an email, and two phone numbers attached to the charity were either not in service or went directly to a full voicemail inbox.

Bleu emerged as a public “survivor advocate” a few weeks into the pandemic, worrying in an April 2020 article in the conservative The Daily Wire that pandemic lockdowns would worsen sex trafficking. Within two years she would amass a large profile through Twitter and right-wing podcasts, culminating in her alliance with Musk.

In December, Bleu aided Musk in his campaign against Twitter’s former head of trust and safety Yoel Roth—who seemingly angered the billionaire after resigning in November—linking to a 2010 tweet by Roth that read, “Can high school students ever meaningfully consent to sex with their teachers?”

“This explains a lot,” Musk replied, and many of his followers took the bait, suggesting that Roth was a depraved “sex criminal.” Amid other attacks, Roth reportedly was forced to flee his home. (In truth, the 2010 tweet merely linked to a Salon article that did not advocate allowing teachers to have sex with minors. Instead, it examined a criminal case against a teacher who had an illegal relationship with an 18-year-old student.)

But now, cracks are starting to appear in Bleu’s online reputation, especially within the right-wing circles she once courted.

The controversy ignited on Jan. 6, when she appeared on Tim Pool’s video stream. During the show, Bleu claimed to represent two anonymous “survivors” of Andrew Tate, the kickboxer turned “king of toxic masculinity” accused—with three other suspects—of sexual exploitation and other heinous crimes. (Tate has denied wrongdoing.)

Some of Tate’s most rabid fans, along with other right-wing users, began scrutinizing Bleu’s backstory. They posted clips from past media appearances to cast doubt on her trafficking claims, and trolled her with screenshots from a racy music video dating back to 2016 that she participated in for WorldStarHipHop in her “Eliza Knows” phase.

“She clung to us all from out of nowhere. She had none of the attributes of an Epstein victim yet insinuated otherwise.”

— Maria Farmer on Eliza Bleu

Bleu’s outfits in the video were provocative, but they didn’t feature nudity or appear to be nonconsensual, and had been on YouTube for seven years. Still, Twitter locked the accounts of several prominent right-wing personalities who cover internet drama after they refused to delete their tweets about the music video.

Bleu, for her part, declared that the screenshots amounted to posting a “non-consensual photo.” In a series of tweets on Jan. 20, she vowed to “escalate to the full extent of the law.”

“Twitter did an outstanding job and they will be excluded from legal action. There won’t be anyone else involved spared. I take things all the way and I have no chill,” Bleu wrote. “I’m a survivor advocate and that doesn’t stop with advocating for myself as a survivor.”

Ella Irwin, Twitter’s head of trust and safety under Musk—who has also previously praised Bleu—defended the suspensions in a thread on Sunday.

“In the past 2 weeks, we’ve suspended multiple accounts and/or restricted content, causing confusion for users,” Irwin wrote. “Unfortunately, we can’t answer questions or share details about specific users and account actions.”

But Bleu’s critics have not been placated, especially after contemporaneous clips of Bleu as “Eliza Knows” celebrating the launch of the WorldStar video surfaced, suggesting that she participated in its creation consensually.

“She once told me there’s three people I would cheat on you with: Ben Shapiro, Elon Musk, and then there might have been one other.”

They’ve also dug up a 2021 interview in which Bleu told right-wing pundit Michael Malice that she was “trafficked” on Twitter when a group of people used her pictures to create social media accounts. At that point, Bleu had escaped her supposed actual traffickers years earlier, and the fake accounts were being used as some sort of ill-defined catfishing scheme, she said. Bleu’s critics have seized on that interview, in which Bleu described a sort of identity-theft as “trafficking,” as proof that Bleu uses an expansive definition of the term.

The expansive definition also didn’t sit right with Maria Farmer, a victim of Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell. From Farmer’s perspective, Bleu’s public posts seem to conflate what it means to be a sex-trafficking victim with sex work. “This woman and her cohorts have effectively bastardized the words trafficking and survivor—we just want to use the word victim now,” Farmer told The Daily Beast.

Since emerging as an anti-trafficking activist, Bleu has crossed paths with Epstein victims. In September 2020, she announced on Twitter that she had “accepted a new position with Victims Refuse Silence,” which at the time was the trafficking nonprofit of Virginia Giuffre, a high-profile victim of Epstein and Maxwell. By November of that year, Bleu tweeted that she had stepped back into a part-time role with the organization. (Corporate records in Florida from 2021 and 2022 list Bleu as the group’s secretary and director.)

Bleu was once featured in videos on the group’s website, soliciting donations, asking people to get involved, and plugging her own Twitter handle as a resource for trafficking awareness. “I firmly believe that anybody that’s helping us in the survivor space should be very thoroughly vetted because we have a lot of nefarious players that just want to be close to victims and survivors,” she said in one video, in which she claimed her former traffickers made a Twitter profile with her name, photos, and videos without her consent.

Teresa Helm, a victim of Epstein and former director of Victims Refuse Silence, said she became friends with Bleu and asked her to join the group before it dissolved. “She’s been almost like a freelancer in the world of advocacy,” said Helm, who now works for National Center on Sexual Exploitation, which was once known as “Morality in Media.”

“She’s nonstop on Twitter which has been wonderful because it has brought to light a lot of things that were happening that people weren’t paying attention to otherwise,” Helm continued, adding that Bleu told her she’s friends with Musk. “She’s been a pioneer in waking people the hell up.”

Asked about Bleu’s doubters, Helm said, “I support her as a trafficking survivor entirely. Nothing in her past makes anything less valuable in terms of her advocacy work. It’s not her job to prove anything to anybody.”

Still, some survivors of Epstein’s sex ring said they didn’t trust Bleu. One victim, who asked not to be named, told The Daily Beast that she shared concerns about Bleu after researching her background and finding ties to right-wing figures and publications, such as Pizzagate-promoter Mike Cernovich and conservative website The Blaze.

“The ability to finally share my story and connect with others was freeing, but it’s not as straightforward as ‘simply going public,’” the Epstein victim said. “Only a strong foundation of therapeutic recovery prepared me for the publicity generated by the salacious facts of this case. However, I was not prepared for my trauma being co-opted for other’s gain.”

Farmer, who tried to report Epstein and Maxwell to the feds in the 1990s, said she had raised concerns about Bleu’s backstory on Twitter, only for Bleu to block her.

“She clung to us all from out of nowhere,” Farmer said of Epstein survivors. “She had none of the attributes of an Epstein victim yet insinuated otherwise.”

Bleu’s critics have also seized on her reality-television appearances in an attempt to poke holes in her trafficking story. Sometime around 2002, for example, she appeared on the dating show Blind Date as a contestant so hostile that the show’s editors kept a running onscreen count of her complaints. In 2012, at the height of what she would later describe as her second period being sex-trafficked deep in Chicago gang territory, Bleu appeared as an amateur model on Chicago-based The Steve Harvey Show, where Tyra Banks judged her performance.

The suspensions have fueled speculation about Bleu’s access to Twitter execs and complaints that Musk’s supposed commitment to free speech only goes so far when his friends and allies are being embarrassed.

David Karpf, an associate professor in the School of Media and Public Affairs at George Washington University, told The Daily Beast that the Bleu controversy underscores how chaotic content moderation has become under Musk.

“You can say whatever you want on Twitter, so long as nobody notices and you don’t say mean things to anybody in Elon’s circles,” Karpf told The Daily Beast.

For her part, Bleu insisted on Twitter on Tuesday that she didn’t ask Musk to suspend the accounts that tweeted the WorldStar video.

“If I was going to ask for a favor from Elon Musk, I would ask him to make humans a multi-planetary species,” she wrote.

Farmer told The Daily Beast that Bleu’s support of Musk was a slap in the face to survivors. She points to Musk’s reported visit to Epstein’s Manhattan mansion and Maxwell’s infamous photo with Musk at a 2014 Vanity Fair Oscar party. “Elon Musk needs to pull out a little Shakespeare and study it: Thou doth protest too much,” she said, adding that she believes “it’s almost like he’s hired this woman to cover for himself.”

“Anyone who was even remotely affiliated with Jeffrey Epstein is odious at this stage,” she added. In response to some of Bleu’s pro-Musk tweets, multiple users have replied with the snapshot of Maxwell and Musk, with one writing: “thank you Elon Musk (shown here with convicted child sex trafficker Ghislaine Maxwell) for looking out for the children.” (For his part, Musk has claimed he was photobombed.)

Bleu has occasionally raised money online related to her anti-trafficking efforts. In 2020, she raised $1,625 for a vacation, writing that normally “I serve survivors of Human Trafficking, my standard caseload is 20 survivors at a time. During this season I took on an extra 61 survivors via online advocacy.”

She raised another $2,205 the following year to attend the libertarian Freedom Fest conference. Bleu has also indicated that she opened a safe house of her own for trafficking victims. In March 2020, she tweeted that she had opened the facility, called the Humanity House. It is unclear whether the facility is currently in operation.

Bleu’s latest posts, which once attracted praise, are now rife with trolls. One person created an account in her name whose main photo features Bleu bent over alongside the caption, “help im bein trafficked.” Another user remade the Steve Buscemi “fellow kids” meme with Bleu’s face and the words: “Hello fellow survivors of human trafficking.”

“There’s definitely a lot of misogyny and right wing trolls,” an ex-boyfriend of Bleu’s told The Daily Beast. “I don’t think she should have to be dealing with any of that."

According to the beau, who asked to remain anonymous, the two met in 2019 at an event for presidential candidate Andrew Yang. At the time, he says, Bleu was working in elder care and living on her family farm.

Bleu shared with him that she’d been trafficked in Los Angeles as a teenager; he had no reason to disbelieve her. “It wasn’t like she just randomly came up with like, a trafficking story,” he said, adding that when it comes to her personal life, “She is definitely a very private person, despite how public she is.”

Even back then, however, Bleu told him she wanted to be famous.

“She mentioned how she would love to be on the Ben Shapiro podcast,” the ex said, adding that she also envisioned starring on Joe Rogan’s show. “That was a joke that she had: ‘I’m going to get on Joe Rogan before you.’”

Bleu also joked about the famous men she dreamed of dating, with Musk among them. “She once told me there’s three people I would cheat on you with: Ben Shapiro, Elon Musk, and then there might have been one other,” he recalled.

“The reason this is all funny to me now is because last month she was on Ben Shapiro’s podcast. Her and Elon Musk are in communication with each other,” the ex told The Daily Beast.

“She definitely had these aspirations of being somebody. Her aspirations are kind of going exactly how she wanted in a weird way.”

[chloeworships]

Or he….

I hope this message brings you peace 🕊️ and please don’t hate all women because of what one did to you. In life we make mistakes to learn from them and sometimes we learn the hard way or too late, cupcakes. Your value is not attributed to how others treat you. If someone doesn’t, can’t or won’t see you for you, then that’s on them. Move forward with grace anyway knowing your conscience is clear. God blinded them. He was testing THIER CHARACTER and strengthening yours.

I’m sorry babes. It is so painful to be overlooked and rejected but just know, in the end you didn’t deserve it and the LORD has seen that and will honour you in front of those who didn’t seek to honour and respect you when they had the chance.

The sidewalk also means they about to pull up 👀🏎️💨

As mentioned, but I want to clarify: for some of you, this is your wife-to-be and for some this is an ex-wife or g/f and they are NOT evil. This could even be a friend.

Below this scripture was the following 👇🏾👀

Some of you could be in politics doing the LORD’s work and they may not have truly valued that. OR your person is a political leader.

I changed my mind and decided to add the NJKV after all. I changed my mind like this woman will 🤣

As I was reading, the LORD showed me the word “mist”. Remember the dream with the mist/fog babes 👀👇🏾

I don’t want anyone to die alone without love 😔💔🥺 without someone to look upon your face during your last hours and pray for you. You want to take your last breath knowing the last face YOU SAW was of someone who truly loved you for YOU and *NOT* for your “image”.

👇🏾Definitions:

👇🏾The article:

👇🏾The image:

As I was getting ready to wrap this up, I heard

“Clout”

Having said that, I hope you can forgive them now that you know the truth. As AB would say “Call God” 🤣☎️ and hash it out with him as I feel this woman may want to do with you.

This person could have wanted the world to ADORE her. More than likely, they never received enough attention growing up and wanted to receive that “love” from others and the world 🌎 OR were simply in another phase of their lives, out of sync with yours.

The months October/November are important to whoever this message is for.

Lastly, the make up in this dream is a representation of VANITY and the pursuit of PERFECTION.

I remember watching the Devil’s Advocate and Al Pacino said …..

WAIT!!!

⚠️Spoiler Alert: if you haven’t watched this classic then don’t be mad that I’m spoiling it for you 🤣 Excuse the profanity. I love this movie so much (and Al) because it’s even more relevant today than it was yesterday, due to the influence of social media. I highly recommend watching it without [the kids] 😅 It’s vile in a thought provoking way, but sometimes the truth is ugly. I won’t explain too much about it because you just need to see it to fully comprehend.

UPDATE:

The LORD just showed me a Black and White Eagle 🦅👀 and you know what this means since some of you have been here for sometime.

Photo credit: Jane Sugar — Pinterest

Put aside your work and worldly pursuits and make time to see the people God sends to you babes. Like really see them 👁️ We can’t take any of this with us to Heaven. Our riches are already there waiting for us and hopefully there with the ones who left before us. Heaven is a real place. The LORD showed me the gates 😍

People are NOT replaceable ❌

When I browsed the Magis Center website, I was led to this 👇🏾👀😍

“Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing, but a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised”

UPDATE 2:

I have to share this video. Initially I wasn’t going to, but the comments are a hella confirmation for whoever this message is for and I want to honour the word of God and give you your flowers 💐

I actually forgot I had commented on this video THREE years ago 👀👀👀

Anyways enjoy your new life and ya new money 💰🤑

Also this song👇🏾 (2) 😍🎸😍🎸😍🎸😍🎸 — if you know these songs we can be friends 🤣🤣🤣🤣 Also this song is giving … “me in the mosh pit” 🤣🤣🤣

BUT DID YOU SEE THE MIST 🌫️👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👇🏾

This is why I have to share music when I get them 👀😅

I wanted to elaborate…

In the audio I had said this person was tongue tied 🪢 bc I suddenly became that way. They don’t know what to say but the scripture says we should confess our sins to each other as I confessed to you and the ppl involved in my real life. This is the right course of action one should take.

“Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.”

— James 5:16

You can confess to the LORD but if you want to speak to this man as I did in the dream, God is telling you EXACTLY what you should do.

[bllsbailey]

The Washington Post's Editorial Board Just Decimated Kamala Harris

Vice President Kamala Harris’ plan to avoid the media because her team laughably thinks that no one pays attention to significant networks or prominent newspapers isn’t going to last. Yes, media is an ever-changing landscape, but solely focusing on TikTok and social media is a surefire way to lose an election. People need to hear ideas and policies that will help them, and Kamala hasn’t offered much. What she has provided is a throwback to Soviet Russia.

It’s a window into why her team keeps her from press conferences. The latest pitch to curb inflation is to stomp out price-gouging, which is such pie-in-the-sky nonsense that it almost makes you wonder if Harris qualifies for this office. She’s not—you know that, but that’s not the point: what the hell is this campaign other than showing that Democrats have a black woman running after wresting the nomination from Joe Biden? Catherine Rampell trashed Harris, and now the editorial board writ large is body-slamming her, calling her candidacy gimmicky: 

Americans are clearly still anxious and angry about the high cost of groceries, housing and even $5.29 Big Macs. While the inflation rate has cooled substantially since the 2022 peak, an ostensible Biden-Harris administration accomplishment, prices remain elevated relative to the Trump years. So it’s a real political issue for Ms. Harris. One way to handle it might be to level with voters, telling them that inflation spiked in 2021 mainly because the pandemic snarled supply chains, and that the Federal Reserve’s policies, which the Biden-Harris administration supported, are working to slow it. The vice president instead opted for a less forthright route: Blaming big business. She vowed to go after “price gouging” by grocery stores, landlords, pharmaceutical companies and other supposed corporate perpetrators by having the Federal Trade Commission enforce a vaguely defined “federal ban on price gouging.”  Never mind that many stores are currently slashing prices in response to renewed consumer bargain hunting. Ms. Harris says she’ll target companies that make “excessive” profits, whatever that means…  […]  Her ideas would cost money, yet she insisted in her speech that she would hold to President Joe Biden’s pledge not to raise taxes on any household earning $400,000 or less annually. That excludes 80 percent of taxable income, and does not take into account the recent surge in families earning over $400,000. The Harris campaign says it plans to raise revenue to cover these costs but did not provide specific offsets in its economic plan rollout. Without them, Ms. Harris’s full plan would add $1.7 trillion to federal deficits over a decade, according to the Committee for a Responsible Federal Budget, a nonpartisan budget watchdog.  To be sure, every campaign makes expensive promises that will never come to pass, especially with a divided Congress. Remember Mr. Biden’s pledge to make community college free? Even adjusted for the pandering standards of campaign economics, however, Ms. Harris’s speech Friday ranks as a disappointment. 

In short, the paper said her speech sucked, and it did. 

“Ms. Harris is on firmest ground when she advocates increasing the child tax credit from the current level of $2,000 per kid up to $3,600 per kid for middle-class and low-income families, and for making it easier for those lower on the income scale to access the benefit,” wrote the editorial board. Are they aware that JD Vance is proposing raising the child tax credit to $5,000? 

Up until this cockamamie price-gouging plan, along with making housing more expensive, Harris has been stealing Trump’s ideas, starting with the no tax on tips.

Harris hasn’t gotten smarter since she took the president's nomination away. She’s still a vapid, uneven, and awkward political creature who got her because the Democratic Party is engulfed in identity politics. That addiction has led to this entire administration selecting unqualified and sub-par administrators and cabinet secretaries, wrecking the country.

Trending on Townhall Videos

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Sarah Haider: Freedom of Religion Means Respecting the Right To Be Without It

I am the co-founder of Ex-Muslims of North America, which advocates for acceptance of religious dissent and aims to reduce discrimination faced by those who have chosen to leave Islam.

It is not often an easy choice. I have heard thousands of stories from hundreds of people.

A few have been able to leave with little consequence, maintaining relationships with their families and friends. But for most this was hardly the case.

Our journeys have seen tremendous struggle. Some “merely” lose friends and family. Others risk their health and mental well-being by being locked in psychiatric wards to enduring physical violence from all of their family members.

A few don’t make it at all, being held hostage or lost in honor killings.

But despite these struggles that those who believe in civil liberties and tolerance ought to be horrified by, my community has encountered difficulty finding support here in North America. I and many of my colleagues and other ex-Muslims have been accused of being “hate-mongers.”

I have personally been called an “Uncle Tom” and “House Arab,” and I’m not even Arab!

There is an instinct to pigeon-hole anyone who says something negative about Islam, even when it’s from the perspective of our own lived experience; to broadly label them in such a way that nearly guarantees most will ignore what we have to say.

When Ayaan Hirsi Ali, an ex-Muslim hero of mine who survived extreme danger to escape to the West from Somalia, was invited to receive an honorary degree at Brandeis University, student outrage at her alleged “anti-Muslim bigotry” led to the event’s cancellation.

Similar cancellations have happened to other ex-Muslims, including Maryam Namazie at Trinity College.

Ex-Muslims are not anti-Muslim bigots; those of us who criticize or reject the religion of Islam do so because we want to protect the safety of people who were raised Muslim, and wish to have self-determination over how they live their lives.

Many well-intentioned people do not see the ways in which Muslims questioning their religion, even here in the West, are forbidden that self-determination.

Take the case of Yasmin Seweid, a young hijabi woman from Long Island, New York. In a case covered by several media outlets, Seweid filed a report claiming that three men attacked her on the subway, attempting to yank off her hijab while yelling “Donald Trump” and calling her a terrorist.

Later, it was revealed that Seweid had made the whole incident up.

Hate-crime hoaxes are not uncommon, but they should not be used to discredit the existence of genuine hate crimes against Muslims.

In this case, however, Seweid’s motivations were not simply to easily garner some attention. According to police sources Seweid made up the story “because she didn’t want to get in trouble for breaking the curfew after being out late drinking with friends.”

Later, Seweid was pictured in court with a shaved head, allegedly a punishment by her parents for dating a Christian. Seweid’s case shows the complexity of the pressures facing Muslims, particularly Muslim women.

Yes, some may face aggression by bigots for their religious garb, but we should consider that for far too many women in Muslim households, the refusal to dress in accordance with religious traditions imposed on them is the much more likely risk. For Seweid, wearing the hijab was not a choice.

I sympathize with the fear of critiquing Islam when there are many in the West who would wish to restrict the rights of Muslims to voluntarily wear the hijab or otherwise voluntarily practice their religion.

The intelligent response to this fear, however, is to stand up for civil liberties, and a culture where all people are treated with dignity and respect.

We need to make a clear distinction between criticizing the faith, and demonizing the faithful.

Let me be clear - I don’t think anyone - even those who hate my apostasy should be silenced - what I ask for is that we stand up for the right to speak for everyone, including both those that stand with us and even those that call for the death of disbelievers.

This is what ex-believers like myself from all religions ask for: the freedom to be ourselves. Please stand with us.

Let’s not let our empathy for the oppression of one group excuse the oppression of another.

Join me in protecting the civil rights of everyone, regardless of their religion or lack thereof, at FairForAll.org

==

Freedom of religion and freedom from religion are the same thing.

[skullsandwineglasses]

Remembrance of Things Past - Eps 1-10 Impression/Rant

Not really a first impressions post since there are only 2 episodes left, but as I’m waiting on the last few episodes, I thought I’d rant a bit about the drama here. 

First of all, I agree with everything that AvenueX said in her review of the first 6 episodes. Her review is what prompted me to start the drama. I needed a realistic slice of life drama to balance out the idol drama that is You Are My Glory (which I’m also waiting on for new episodes), and ROTP seemed to fit bill. ROTP is just so good.

I binged ROTP in 3 days. It could have been 2 days, but I started it at 2am on a Wednesday night, so I didn’t get very far the first night. Each episode is about 75 minutes long, so almost the equivalent of 2 regular lengthed episodes, but not quite. 

I cried during the first two episodes. The character development is just phenomenal. You really feel for Jing Jing’s character even though you’ve only seen her character for an hour. There are little moments throughout the drama that made me tear up too, like when the girls were celebrating Nan Jia jie’s 36th birthday and I got emotional over how close their bond is, or moments when the girls reflected on their aging parents and how we often take our parents for granted. 

Plot pacing and structure

The plot is tight and well-paced, and each girl’s storyline is interwoven well. Sometimes they’d cut between simultaneous scenes between the girls to compare and contrast what they’re each going through. For instance, when Xu Yan is having an argument with her boyfriend, the drama will also cut and flip back and forth to Qiao Xi Chen going through problems at her workplace. When Xu Yan makes up with her boyfriend, the drama cuts to QXC and Nan Jia being romantically pursued by Jian Yi Fan and Ou Yang. It’s interesting to see how their lives mirror and differ from each other. 

Because the storylines between the girls are so interwoven and keep flipping back and forth between each other, it makes it hard to skip scenes because you can’t just skip an entire segment or else you’ll miss something important in all 3 storylines. I can see that this might be a little annoying if you have a preference for one of the girls and want to skip someone else’s storyline. But I actually like seeing all 3 of their stories play out, so I’m not bothered by it. 

Another aspect about the plot’s structure that I appreciate is how they use the mystery behind Jing Jing’s suicide as a throughline for the drama. Up until episode 8ish(?), each episode ends with a question about Jing Jing’s life prior to her suicide and the next episode opens with the girls trying to find an answer or a clue to it. The girls and we the audience learn more and more about Jing Jing with each episode. However, episodes 9 and 10 deviate from the structure a bit and so the drama has recently been less and less focused on Jing Jing’s story, especially after they found out that she had depression. The drama seems to imply that her depression due to the stress of living in Beijing was the main factor that led to her suicide, while the successive unfortunate events that happened on her birthday was the trigger. 

Characters

I like all the main characters in the drama, albeit some a little more than others, which I’ll explain. I think the 3 male love interests are a little too perfect though, and so I guess this slice of life drama is actually a little idealistic after all. 

Xu Yan - My least favourite of the four girls. She’s materialistic, but not as spoiled as I though she would be. But it does annoy me how she keeps picking fights with Shen Zi Chang, when he’s just trying his best. He’s so tolerant and patient with her. He apologizes, they make up, and then the cycle repeats. It’s just a very unhealthy relationship, and I’m tried of seeing them fight and make up. 

EDIT: So, I started writing this review when I had only watched up until episode 9, but now that I’ve finished episode 10, um, wtf?? Xu Yan made a bad choice and got scammed of all her money, her friends try to comfort her, loan her money, and tell her not to repress her emotions like Jing Jing. And then she just lashes out at them saying they have no right to comfort her because they were the ones who caused Jing Jing’s death. Xu Yan starts off blaming QXC for not knowing that Jing Jing had a crush on her boyfriend, and then she blames Nan Jia for being a bad older cousin. She blames both of them for being ignorant of Jing Jing’s depression and only caring about themselves. QXC (rightfully) retorts back than Xu Yan knew all along that Jing Jing had a crush on her boyfriend, and yet Xu Yan never told anyone, so she’s just as guilty as all of them. Honestly, I was sympathetic towards Xu Yan before, but she was just so ungrateful and entitled in that scene. What right does she have pointing fingers and assigning guilt to people? And to weaponize Jing Jing’s death against them? That’s just cruel. The argument between them in that scene at the end of episode 10 just felt so random and out of place. All of a sudden, Xu Yan points out all of these problems she has with QXC and Nan Jia, when all they’ve ever done is pamper her. Also, you can’t blame QXC for dating Lin Rui even if Jing Jing liked him first, and not to mention that QXC wasn’t even aware. QXC might not have even chosen to date Lin Rui if she had known. But it happens all the time between friends where your friend might date someone you like. All’s fair in love and war, and there’s no first come first serve rule when it comes to dating.

Jing Jing - She becomes more complex as you learn more about her. She puts her friends first and is fiercely supportive and protective of them. We get a glimpse of how far she’s willing to go for them she pulls a butcher knife from the kitchen and points it at QXC’s debt collectors in the first episode. Her friends see her as being really open, expressive, and bubbly. She’s the first one they each go to whenever they need help with a problem or want to show off an achievement. But in reality, she’s really secretive. She hides her feelings to keep her friends happy, and when they slowly uncover her secrets, she becomes less and less recognizable to them, as though she’s been living a double life all along. 

At the end of episode 10, Jing Jing is described as the “hole in the tree” that everyone goes to to share their secrets, but they forget that she’s also a person with her own secrets to share, and she’s not just a tree hole to serve others. Can we blame the friends for not paying enough attention to Jing Jing and only using her for emotional support? Yes and no. It’s complicated. We should always do more to try to care for others and to be more attentive to them, but at the same time, it’s impossible to completely know a person. I purposely hide parts of my life from my friends because I don’t want them worrying or judging or commenting. So I would never expect them to be able to figure it out, and neither do I want them to figure it out. I think it’s interesting that the drama is exploring the friends’ self-imposed guilt, but I don’t agree that Xu Yan should be the one to point it out them and to be Jing Jing’s spokesperson. Xu Yan positions herself as Jing Jing’s heroic and righteous advocator, when really Xu Yan is the most problematic person out of the three remaining friends. 

Also, after seeing how the friends interact, they don’t feel narcissistic. Yes, they each readily vent about their problems to each other, but they also ask about the other person. It’s not one-sided. Xu Yan talks about her problems with her boyfriend, but she also asks and cares about what’s happening in QXC’s life and vice versa. Nan Jia is more mature and is busy with her business, but she always takes the time and effort to help her friends. All of their conversations are reciprocal and they are genuinely interested in each other’s lives. So, I don’t think they have a major communication problem or that they don’t care or that they’re ignorant. Which again, makes Xu Yan’s accusations in episode 10 feel even more unfair. 

Ji Nan Jia - Jing Jing’s cousin and also the oldest of the three girls (about a decade older). Sassy, witty, unapologetic, confident. She’s who you’d think of when you imagine a successful, independent, career-driven woman. She’s extremely annoyed by her mother’s nagging to get married. But she herself is trying to figure out whether she actually wants to find someone to settle down with or if she just wants to beat her biological clock and have children while she still can. She’s pursued by Ou Yang, ten years her junior, and he’s absolutely enamoured with her. He seems to be unconditionally in love with her, which is what I meant when I said that the male leads in this drama seem too perfect and idealistic. But I like Ou Yang though. He’s adorable. 

Qiao Xi Chen - The main character of the four main characters. Like Nan Jia, she’s also quite sassy. In some ways, she’s like a younger version of Nan Jia. QXC is also very career driven and competitive. She’s confident and believes in her abilities, but she also gets easily overwhelmed and emotional (like when her stress and nervousness prevented her from being able to give her proposal presentation and she ran out of the room. I’ve definitely felt that way before my committee meetings). QXC is a character you can self-insert as because she represents the everyday employee who struggles with the long commute to work and tries to stand out and make a name for herself in the company. QXC is also extremely paranoid, which is understandable when you’re a woman living alone in the city. I know what it’s like to have to briskly walk home late at night and constantly having to look over your shoulder to make sure no one’s following you, or having to check your hotel room before you change, or having to make it seem like you’re not the only one living in your apartment. QXC is smart, logical, helps people when she can, but is also reasonably selfish when she needs to protect herself, like when her co-workers try to take advantage of her or throw her under the bus. She’s a character everyone can relate to.

She and Jian Yi Fan also make such a cute pairing. I love all their interactions. I love how Jian Yi Fan can’t help but smile when he’s with her, but he tries hard to clamp it down. I love how QXC is aware of her own attraction and easily admits to to Xu Yan that she does have feelings for him instead of beating around the bush. And I especially love the awkward but adorable confession scene in episode 8. Such great banter and play on words (”你是什麼意思” “沒意思” “你對我是不是有意思?”). The drama did a great job of depicting the frustration of trying to guess whether someone likes you when they seem to be sending mixed signals. A lot of dramas that don’t focus on romance seem to do a better job of showing romance than idol dramas that focus on nothing but romance. I grew up with TVB dramas, and in most of them, romance is usually secondary to the main plot, but I always loved the romances in those dramas.

Like Ou Yang, JYF is such an idealistic love interest. He’s so supportive of and attentive to QXC. I haven’t watched too many slice of life dramas, but To Dear Myself and My Best Friend’s Story both had flawed (and sometimes even irredeemable) male love interests. This drama’s rose-coloured glasses definitely reduces the amount of performative angst, but it also makes the drama a little less realistic. The men in Jing Jing’s life aren’t villainized either even when you expected them to be sinister. I think the most antagonistic character is Lin Rui, but even he’s made to be sympathetic. In fact, nearly all the characters in the drama are sympathetic characters because many of the choices they made were forced because of the situation they found themselves in, and what they did was an act of self-preservation. And so, you can’t hate them or blame them. 

Acting and Dialogue

I mean, what’s there to say? The acting and dialogue just sucks you right in. I love it so much. The characters are so animated and charming because of how well the actors delivered their lines. I’m not a mandarin speaker (I’m a cantonese speaker but learned mandarin afterwards), but even I was able to notice the colloquialism and slangs and idiosyncratic ticks in speech that made the dialogue feel so real and alive. The actors had great comedic timing, and when they cried, you could feel how vulnerable they are. 

Lastly, I also like the little “life lessons” they include at the end of the drama where there’d be a voiceover by one of the actresses and they’d muse about life. One of my favourite musings when when they talked about what it means to have a sense of security. For some people, having a sense of security is about having a certain amount of money in your bank account, or having someone waiting for you to come home, but a sense of security isn’t something tangible or physical that you can achieve or possess. It’s a belief. It’s a belief that you’re able to face any problem and that life will go on. It’s a belief that the one that you love will be faithful and supportive. It’s a type of belief that allows you to be confident to face uncertainty. And thus, a sense of security is something that only you can give yourself. I really like that little food for thought because it’s a great reminder to be self-dependent and to not rely on external gratification. Que sera sera. What will be will be. Don’t get too hung over on failure and don’t let stress dominate your life. 

Note: Watching this at the same time as You Are My Glory is extremely humbling. YAMG is an idol drama, and so they make the romance look so easy. Heck, idol dramas make being a protagonist easy. The protagonist is destined to stand out from the crowd. It’s easy to be noticed. It’s easy to cause a change in the status quo. But ROTP is a reminder that we’re all practically nobodies in the big city. It feels impossible to make an impression when there are millions of other people living almost the same life as you are. There’s nothing special about you, and it’s hard to find meaning and purpose. Obviously, the drama shows that even when it feels like you’re trying to swim upstream in a big city, we each have a life worth living. We may feel insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but to our friends and family, we’re their world and they’re ours. I think it was Camus who said that we should find meaning in the face of absurdity. Live in spite of how absurd and meaningless things feels. Anyway, this drama gives you a lot to think about, even though I don’t really like the melodrama they’ve recently added to drag the plot (*cough cough* that explosive argument scene at the end of episode 10 that I keep ranting about). You’d think that a 12-episode drama wouldn’t have filler, and yet here we are. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Hi!! I really loved your NMJ/WWX/LWJ ficlets!!! I'm very into this ship now lol I literally can't get the idea out of mind!! I keep think about LXC finding out NMJ is also into LWJ and going " Da-ge WTF" :D

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 - aka Pastime (with good company)

Lan Xichen had heard no word from Yiling since Lan Wangji had gone.

It was – distressing. If only he’d known…

He had, though, hadn’t he? Back when they’d all been at the Cloud Recesses together, long ago before it’d been burnt, his brother had always been so fond of Wei Wuxian, even if he’d always denied it. His expression had brightened whenever he’d seen the other boy, his eyes always on him, his attention always drawn to him…

Lan Xichen had thought it was a crush. 

A silly little thing, fleeting: he vaguely remembered one time, when Lan Wangji had been only six years old, he’d asked, in that adorable serious fashion of his, if he could marry Nie Mingjue when he was older. He’d already known not to bring up issues of marriage to their father or uncle, and their mother had recently died; who else could he ask?

Lan Xichen, then nine years old, had laughed himself sick.

Still, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t known in the years since then that his brother’s disinterest in women had less to do with virtue and more to do with his personal inclinations. He’d teased him over it a few times, encouraged him in the rare instances when someone seemed to catch his interest, the way Wei Wuxian had; he’d even had a private word with their uncle to prepare him for the fact that any children would have to come from his lineage, not his brother’s.

He just hadn’t realized it was serious this time.

He should have realized. Lan Wangji was six no longer, his attention more serious, his affection sincere –

He’d known Lan Wangji was a cutsleeve, that he liked men the way other men liked women. He just hadn’t understood that his brother had fallen in love – and now he might very well spend the rest of his life mourning his lost chance to win Wei Wuxian, and all because Lan Xichen didn’t realize..!

Some elder brother he was.

By the time he’d figured it out, it was too late to cancel the engagement between Nie Mingjue and Wei Wuxian without great political cost, and Lan Wangji insisted on going alone as chaperone as he had promised; he’d refused any and all attempts by Lan Xichen to discuss the issue, and the most he had said was that it would be better for him to see with his own eyes that it had happened – the implication heart-breaking.

Lan Wangji had had hope, however foolish, and Lan Xichen had helped kill it. By facilitating the marriage of Lan Wangji’s love to another man, no less – not even a woman, which anyone would have understood…! For political reasons…!

Lan Xichen spent a great deal of time pacing and meditating, trying to calm his unhappy heart and thinking of what actions he could take to take to rectify his mistake.

That’s what he was doing when Nie Huaisang unexpectedly swanned in through the door to the hanshi one afternoon.

“So this is going to be a mess,” he announced, throwing himself down on one of the seats. “A mess, I tell you! All that work, and I’ll have to redo the whole thing, er-ge; it’s really not fair…at least I’ll have your help with it, this time!”

Lan Xichen blinked, a little blindsided by the sudden tsunami of words. “You know I’m always happy to help you, Huaisang,” he said, since that was both true and relatively safe.

“I know that, but now you have to be involved! Where do you want your table for the wedding banquet, do you think?”

At least he was only asking for advice on the wedding. The one Lan Xichen was currently kicking himself for supporting.

“I’m not sure,” he said, trying to smile and not quite succeeding. “Near the front?”

“Of course near the front. You’re part of the wedding party, aren’t you?”

Lan Xichen supposed from a certain perspective he was. “You think I should be seated at the main table, given my role as da-ge’s sworn brother?”

“Well, that too, I guess,” Nie Huaisang said. “Maybe it’ll just be easier to have one big table? We could have your family on one side of the table to represent the bride –”

Lan Xichen held up his hands. “Huaisang. Why would we represent the bride? The Jiang sect is representing Wei-gongzi.”

Nie Huaisang, who’d been all but horizontal, splayed out face down on the table, lifted his head and blinked at him. “Er-ge, don’t be silly. I’m not talking about Wei-xiong. I’m talking about Lan-er-gongzi – oh, I suppose I should call him sister-in-law now, I guess? So, Lan-saozi? No, that sounds weird. I’ll just stick with Lan-xiong.”

Lan Xichen rubbed his ears, wondering if he’d started hearing things. “Huaisang, what are you talking about? Wei-gongzi is the one marrying your brother.”

“Yes,” Nie Huaisang said slowly. “Of course he is. Lan-xiong is also marrying him.”

“…that’s impossible.”

“Not impossible at all; the plan is that they’ll share the position of first wife,” Nie Huaisang said, slowly sitting up. “There’s been more than one Madame Nie before…I’m sorry, did you not know? Didn’t Lan-xiong tell you?”

Lan Xichen stared. “Tell me – what? That he’s – that he’s planning on marrying your brother?”

“And Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said. “Normally, both brides would make their vows to the husband alone, but everyone agreed that it would be more appropriate if Wei-xiong and Lan-xiong shared vows as well, reflecting the prestige of the Sects and their own dignity as men – did Lan-xiong really not say anything?”

“Forgive me, Huaisang. It appears I need to speak with my brother. Urgently.”

He strode out the door, his steps more hurried than the calm pace he was accustomed to using –

Lan Wangji was walking towards the hanshi.

He was coming from the direction of their uncle’s house; he must have arrived around the same time as Nie Huaisang – perhaps they’d even come together – but Lan Wangji had always followed family etiquette before sect etiquette, as Lan Xichen had taught him: he would have formally greeted his uncle first and foremost, shared a cup of tea with him, and only then gone to find Lan Xichen.

To break the news first to the sect leader, presumably.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen called, and Lan Wangji turned to look at him –

He was smiling.

Not a full smile, of course; only the most joyous occasions brought out that rare ray of sunlight. But there was the slightest curve to his eyes that suggested he was pleased, and in the light of the setting sun, Lan Xichen could see the small hint of red in his ears that showed bashfulness.

“Brother,” he said formally, inclining his head.

“Walk with me,” Lan Xichen requested, and led them towards the jingshi – it would at least be private, if nothing else, unlike the currently occupied hanshi. It was only once they were inside that he spoke. “Do you have something to tell me?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

Lan Xichen forced himself to sit, as if that would calm his racing heart. “Please do.”

“Before the evening meal, Nie-gongzi will formally deliver to you a letter,” Lan Wangji said, very nearly managing to appear unperturbed to those who did not know him well enough to see his excitement. “Requesting permission to arrange a marriage.”

“With you.”

“En.”

“You and – Nie Mingjue.”

Lan Wangji blinked at Lan Xichen’s unaccountable rudeness. “The vows would be taken between myself, Mingjue-xiong, and Wei Ying.”

Lan Xichen rolled the words ‘Mingjue-xiong’ around his mouth as if seeking to taste every aspect of it. His brother was a stickler for proper etiquette; he would never refer to Nie Mingjue by so familiar a name unless he was truly serious about this.

“And this makes you happy?” Lan Xichen asked.

Lan Wangji smiled. He actually smiled, the expression blooming on his face as inexorably as the sun rising; he ducked his head to try to hide it, but it was far too late for that. “En.”

Lan Xichen wished he could just take that as the full answer it was clearly intended to be.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen said very carefully, his hands folded in his lap. “When you left – I know you are very fond of Wei-gongzi. I have been thinking of this matter since you left. I have concluded that while the price may be high, if you wish for me to advocate to Mingjue-xiong that you be permitted to marry Wei-gongzi, I will do so.”

Lan Wangji’s smile faded into a look of some bewilderment. He didn’t understand: the expression on his face so very clearly said but I’m marrying him already…?

“If you wish to marry him without Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen clarified. “I do not want you to feel as though the only route to your happiness is through another –”

But Lan Wangji was shaking his head, very quickly. Lan Xichen stopped talking and waited for Lan Wangji to gather his thoughts.

“I would not marry Mingjue-xiong to win Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji finally said. “I would not.”

Lan Xichen softened. “I know you are always sincere, Wangji, and would never act to deceive. But at the same time, this is – very unexpected, you understand? The matter concerns the happiness of the rest of your life. It must be done right. I mean…when did you even become interested in Mingjue-xiong?”

Lan Wangji flushed red and dropped his eyes to the ground. “…six.”

Six? What –

“That crush?” Lan Xichen blurted out, eyes wide. “When you were six and he was thirteen?”

Lan Wangji’s head dipped lower and his shoulders went up defensively.

“You’ve liked him ever since then? Really? You’re not – not just saying –”

With an expression of great suffering on his face, Lan Wangji leaned over and whispered some words into Lan Xichen’s ear – even at that distance, they were barely audible, rushed together into a scarcely coherent mumble, but upon hearing the words ‘spring dreams’ and ‘tried to stop’ and something even more disturbing about Wei Wuxian and the time spent supervising him in the Library Pavilion, Lan Xichen learned in a single blow both that his concerns were misplaced and also far, far more than he’d ever wanted to know about his brother.

“I see,” he said, his voice a little strangled. “And you only got over it by – replacing him with Wei-gongzi?”

Lan Wangji, looking horribly shamed, nodded.

“And now you think about both of them doing –”

Lan Wangji looked up in dumbstruck horror, only to have his eyes narrow as he realized that Lan Xichen had absolutely no intention of finishing his sentence and was only teasing him.

Lan Xichen couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his face, and he didn’t even try. 

“I’m very happy for you,” he said, and meant it. His brother’s happiness was all he had ever wanted, from the beginning, no matter how unorthodox – and besides, having two lovers technically fulfilled their uncle’s constant exhortations that they never allow a single person to become their entire lives, the way their father had.

If either of them were to do something unforgivable (probably Wei Wuxian) or die young (probably Nie Mingjue), Lan Wangji would still have the other by his side to support him through the hardship. He would never be alone.

Yes, this was fine.

Of course, Lan Xichen was still going to have to have a talk with Nie Mingjue about marrying his little brother away from him…

He paused.

“Wangji,” he said, starting to feel a terrible premonition. “Have you raised this with Uncle yet?”

Lan Wangji paused for a moment, and Lan Xichen could see his back straightening as if he could somehow adopt even more of a proper posture than he already had habitually. “…no.”

Lan Xichen knows his brother to be able to infer the rest of that: After all, you’re the head of the family, I had to get your approval first, and also it would be very nice to have someone to act as a shield for me – please?

“…Uncle is going to kill me,” he sighed.

Lan Wangji’s eyes curved up a little, and Lan Xichen felt that it might almost – almost – be worth the truly disastrous scolding he’s about to get.

[sfb123]

Sapere Aude - Part 6

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: PG-13 Adult language, allusions to smut (but nothing graphic), discussions of death, conspiracy, blackmail, and other adult themes.

Warning: The Royal Heir Book 3 Spoilers all over the place.

Word Count: 2,146

Notes: Not much to say, other than this is the big meeting you’ve been waiting for. There’s A LOT of information here. I hope it’s not too overwhelming!

As always, one love to my pre-readers @texaskitten30 & @txemrn. And thank you @twinkleallnight for my moodboard!

Tags: Tags seem to not work in the actual body of the fic, so I’m going to try tagging everyone in the comments, hopefully that works. If you want to be added or removed, just let me know!

As Riley entered the solarium, Eleanor rose from her seat. To say it was an awkward moment was an understatement. Yes, they had met the night before, but there had been so much going on in Riley’s mind that she wasn’t able to truly process the woman standing before her until that moment.

“Your majesty.” Eleanor bowed slightly.

“Forgive me, but I’m not quite sure how I’m supposed to address you.” Riley was doing her best to stay guarded, even though she was screaming on the inside. 

“Please, call me Eleanor, no need for formalities. We are family after all.”

Riley grimaced subtly at that. What does she know about family? Did she really just say that? Too soon, lady. Read the room. “Okay Eleanor. Please, call me Riley.”

“Riley, how are you feeling this morning? You’re recovering alright, I hope.”

“Considering the circumstances, I’m doing fine. Can I offer you something to eat or drink before we begin?”

Eleanor nodded. They both took a few moments to put together plates for themselves. Riley was certain anything she ate would immediately come back up, but she wasn’t going to let her nerves get the best of her. They sat there in silence for several long moments. Riley finally spoke up. “So, you’re in charge of the secret society that has been trying to take down my family. How’s that going for you?” There was a bite in her tone, despite her attempt to stay neutral and composed. 

“Riley, please, I know how all of this may seem to you, but you haven’t been getting the entire story. There are very few people in the organization that have the full picture. I am one of those people, and I am here to fill you in on everything.”

“So fill me in. I’d love to know why you’re so hellbent on destroying the son you abandoned.” She crossed her arms over her chest. As hard as she tried to stay calm, the longer she sat there, starting at this woman, the more angry she got. Not for herself, for Liam. She was so protective over him, he was always worried about others, his kingdom, his friends, his family, he needed someone to worry about him. That was a burden she would gladly bear.

Eleanor sighed deeply. “Riley, I didn’t know what I was doing, or who I was when I joined the Via Imperii. I was a young girl with a crush on a boy. He told me about this group that would be able to show me the world.” She knew the similarities in their stories would get her attention. “Surely you understand what that feels like.”

“I might have heard a story like that once or twice.” Riley blushed and sunk a little lower in her chair. 

Eleanor went on to explain that, unbeknownst to her, the boy that she followed into the group was actually sent specifically to recruit her into the Via Imperii. They were looking for a way to unite Auvernal and Cordonia, and they saw her as the way to do this. They would get her in power beside Constantine, and she could advocate for the unification of the two countries. There had even been a marriage alliance proposed at one point that would have promised Liam to Isabella and had him rule Auvernal by her side, with Leo taking over the Cordonian throne. Luckily, that failed spectacularly, and didn’t make it past the negotiation phase. The Via Imperii had chosen Eleanor because she seemed to most fit Constantine’s type, making it easy to catch his eye in his vulnerable state, considering his wife had recently abandoned him. Since she was not familiar with Cordonia, they made sure to pair her up with a native operative, to compensate and help her along the way. That is how she met Jackson Walker, her partner, and Constantine’s lead guardsman. 

“Drake’s dad? Wait, if Jackson was working with you, does that mean that he’s not…he’s still...” She took a deep breath, trying to compose her thoughts, but her brain was moving too fast for her mouth to be able to keep up. 

“No. Unfortunately, Jackson is no longer with us. After my extraction, Constantine became difficult, he stopped listening to everyone. Once influencing him no longer became an option, it was determined that the only path was to remove him from power entirely. Jackson expressed his doubts over the change. The Via Imperii decided that this made him a threat to the plan, so he needed to be eliminated.” There was a sadness in Eleanor’s voice that Riley wasn’t expecting.

“So the failed attempt on Constantine’s life…”

“Was not an attempt on Constantine at all, but a successful attempt on Jackson.” She closed her eyes, and bowed her head slightly. “It was so hard to see that happen to such a dear friend. And it broke my heart to watch Bianca and the children go through all of that pain. Especially Drake, it hit him exceptionally hard. But he and I both knew what this was when we signed on.”

“So there really is nothing stopping them from taking me away from Liam and Eleanor?” Riley’s eyes started to fill with tears. She was officially in over her head.  

“Yes there is. Me.” Eleanor reached her hand across the table and placed it over Riley’s. “ I have caused my son enough pain for a lifetime. I won’t let him go through a hurt like that ever again.”

Riley jerked her hand back, sadness and fear quickly replaced with anger at the audacity of Eleanor trying to comfort her. “Why would you even care about the pain you caused him? Wasn’t he just part of the job? Another thing you signed on for?” This was the exact argument that she had talked Liam down from that first night that they discussed everything. At the time, Riley truly believed that his mother loved him, but all of this new information completely threw her for a loop. She didn’t know what to believe anymore, and she needed to stand up for her husband. 

“When I married Constantine, it was part of the plan, yes. But in my time by his side, I truly grew to love him. He was a good man that only wanted the best for his country, and his family.”

“Yea, I’ve seen first hand what he was willing to do to make sure his country, and his family had ‘the best’.” She emphasized her sarcasm with air quotes. 

“I know what Constantine did to you during Liam’s social season. My heart truly broke for you, and for Liam. The love you two have for each other was evident, even back then. Constantine wasn’t always like that, there was a time when he would have been thrilled for his son to find someone he cared for so greatly. Unfortunately, everything changed after my extraction.”

“Let’s talk about that extraction. Why did you just leave like that?”

Eleanor explained that after the marriage alliance with Auvernal fell through, Constantine started to doubt her loyalty to Cordonia, that she seemed to be putting the needs and wants of Auvernal ahead of those of the kingdom she ruled. The Via Imperii determined that, in order for the plan to move forward, they would need to pull Eleanor out. Because of her expansive knowledge of the inner workings of the monarchy, and Constantine himself, they agreed that she would still be a valuable asset, but she would be reassigned to work behind the scenes, providing them with intel to help them in their mission. 

They had worked with Barthelemy through associates in the past, and they knew his desire to have more power in the kingdom, so they felt he would be the best choice to move the plan forward. In order to boost his ego, they led him to believe that he was truly killing the Queen.Through a series of undercover operatives, they ensured that no actual harm would be done. Despite Barthelemy bringing in an outsider, Godfrey, to assist him in the assassination, the plan went off without a hitch. The only problem was, after Eleanor’s ‘death’ Constantine was in a constant state of paranoia. Barthelemy was confident that nobody would be able to get to the king, and if the Via Imperii wanted any control in Cordonia, they would need to take over the throne. 

Riley’s head was spinning. She didn’t know if the explanation made things better or worse. She understood now the mechanics of it, but she still couldn’t comprehend a mother abandoning her son. “But you just left Liam. Abandoned him. You knew what these people were doing, you knew what the plan was, how could you just leave your son in the middle of all of that?”

“Trust me, leaving my son behind was the hardest decision I have ever made. When I was assigned to my position as queen, my loyalty was to the Via Imperii. The second I became a mother, everything changed. My priority became my son. He took precedence over everything.” 

“Then why did you leave him?” Riley’s voice was small, barely a whisper. 

“It was the only way I could protect him. They wanted me out of there. At least if I went willingly, I could still be here to keep him safe.” Elenaor looked at her hands, which sat clasped on the table in front of her. “Leaving Liam will remain the greatest regret of my life, but it was all I could think to do in that moment to protect him.” 

Riley’s eyes closed briefly, those words immediately brought her back to the balcony in Fydelia. That was practically word for word the reason he gave her for choosing Madeline at the Coronation. Boy, the Cordonian Ruby doesn’t fall far from the tree. 

Eleanor looked up, a single tear rolled down her cheek as her eyes met Riley’s. “I made it my personal mission to make sure you joined the Via Imperii so that we could work together to keep Liam safe. They want him out, they are telling you that the plan has changed, but I know for a fact that it hasn’t. Liam has already proven to be one of the best rulers Cordonia has had in centuries. The two of you are exactly what this country needs, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone ruin that.” 

There was a level of vulnerability in Eleanor’s eyes that Riley wasn't expecting. It was the look of a mother desperate to protect her child. The same look Riley had seen in the mirror when she was protecting her daughter from the countless threats that they had faced in her short life. There were still so many unanswered questions, so many obstacles and grey areas. As horrible as all of this was, in that moment, Riley truly believed Eleanor, she trusted her. 

“So...what can I do? How can I help?”

“You and I will stay in touch, I will give you any information as I get it, so that you can stay one step ahead of them. For now, just keep your family close, and keep living your life as you normally would.”

Riley nodded. Part of her wanted to tell Eleanor that Liam knew what was going on, that she had told him everything, but she was afraid that would do more harm than good. She figured she’d wait, at least until she told Liam about her. While she did believe Eleanor was being sincere, she was going to let Liam take the lead on how this relationship progressed. She was grateful for her help, but that wasn’t going to cancel out all of the pain that she had caused Liam. 

Eleanor stood from her seat. “I really should be getting back, but I’m so glad we had a chance to talk.” She extended her hand to Riley’s.

Riley was just about to shake her hand when she paused. “Wait, I have one more question.” She had just remembered a very important missing piece to the puzzle that was Eleanor’s death. “You were pregnant when you die...er, were extracted.”

“Right, of course. I found out I was pregnant about a month before the extraction. I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell Constantine, which was probably for the best.” She looked down. “I had a son, he was raised in the Via Imperii, and is currently on assignment within the Palace.”

“Wait, so Liam has a younger brother, and he works in our home? He’s been in contact with his brother this whole time, and he doesn’t even know.” Riley felt that all too familiar sting behind her eyes again. 

“Yes, we placed him in the King’s Guard so that he could also help in protecting your family. His name is Thomas.”

Continue Reading

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[infjparadox]

The types I know in real life - as an INFJ

The ISFJ father.  Growing up, he was a bit of a micro-manager, and both of us were so stubborn that our J clashed pretty hard, especially when he pushed me to complete scholarships and laborious things that would benefit my future.  He ALWAYS wanted to do some activity together (sports, outings, family gatherings, etc), and in my teen years, I just valued creative, independent pursuits (he didn’t understand the value in those hobbies at the time - now he’s my cheerleader).  Since graduating college, we’ve become good friends, although he still over-does and over-plans everything.  We share similar values regarding our interpersonal relationships and work, as well as a similar sense of humor, and I can get that intuitive conversation out of him by asking him to tell me stories about his childhood.   He’s a fantastic storyteller. 

The INFP mother.  My mother is a kind (but anxious) woman and a fantastic role model. She’s super creative, but also incredibly introverted.  I remember she’d often tell me to find a way to entertain myself growing up (probably driven mad by my intuitive inquisitions), and that led me to many of my independent hobbies, like drawing, music, and film. (And possibly resulted in a love language of quality time, lol I love attention).  As an adult, I can now claim her as my best friend.  We can talk for hours about the abstract, ideals, and emotions.  I tease her constantly, and we laugh ourselves to tears.  

The ENFJ sister.  Confident, idealistic, and a blogger type.  We don’t get along very well, but I blame it on her not being a very matured or healthy ENFJ (and she’s been diagnosed with OCD, so there’s that).  When she’s in a positive place, we joke that we have ESP because we always have similar thoughts / reactions to interactions (Ni) and we both enjoy a lot of the same hobbies and creative pursuits, but we value those experiences differently.  For example, she loves movies for the emotions and her ability to relate to the characters, while I love them for the storytelling, the script, the cinematography, the character arcs, etc.  She loves people and organizing parties / social events.  She’s also that person on Instagram sharing all the inspirational quotes.   

The ISFP boyfriend.  Charming, easygoing, and well-rounded. Appears as an extrovert to an outsider, but in reality, he just enjoys activities that engage the five senses and his close circle of friends. He’s the absolute best at living in the moment, and he knows how to pull me back to earth and to see the more rational, objective side of things.  Loves working with his hands, and has about 3 million hobbies, from skiing to biking to working on cars to making music to photography.  Sensitive to criticism, but loves playing the devil’s advocate.  Sometimes he can be incredibly impulsive, and other times, he’s hesitant to commit to future plans or big decisions (depends on what his Fi is telling him).  Values authenticity and independence above anything else.  Very capable of deep and stimulating conversation, but does better on lower rungs of the abstract ladder that are rooted in science, physics, conspiracy theories, politics, or something he can contribute facts and real world experience to.  Dislikes conflict and being put in a box.  Other than the INFP, the only other type who does not drain my energy tank.  I’m confident that we’ll be lifelong friends and soulmates, come what may.

The INFP friend.  We clicked instantly while studying abroad, and we were able to talk for hours about anything and everything, while respecting one another’s feelings.  Super easygoing.  He’s one of the best listeners I’ve ever met, and he always asks me questions that feed the conversation.  Musically inclined, authentic, and frustratingly neutral about some of the topics I care about so passionately.  He’s also one of the most aloof people I know -- and he absolutely sucks at communication.  But even though I haven’t talked to him in 7 months, I still consider him one of my platonic soulmates.  

The ENFP bff.  Another soulmate.  A total goofball, selfish at times, but also a martyr when it comes to those she loves.  She’s one of the few people who have truly attempted to understand everything about me and pry me open -- almost to the point that it’s uncomfortable.  Loves talking about emotions (extensively). Judges people based on their zodiac sign, but she’s also incredibly insightful, perceptive, and “street” wise (she learns a LOT from her experiences / mistakes).  She can be flighty though, and her goals change as swiftly as her attention span.  Gotta love her.

The ENTP bff.  A witty friend who will always offer me a stimulating conversation - whether it’s teaching me about historical fashion or exposing me to new concepts and ideas and political theories.  We can talk for three hours straight, but by then I’m incredibly brain-fried (and she could just keep going?!).  Up for a good natured debate whenever - less good natured when someone pisses her off.  I’m fairly certain I’m the only person she is completely honest with about her feelings (she struggles SO hard to open up).  She loves to travel and experience new things, as well as host parties and game nights.  She’s both a planner and a completely "in the spur of the moment” human being.  Hates willful ignorance and stupidity, and does not care about keeping the peace. I disliked her at first for her bluntness and arrogance, but now I love her to pieces.  Soulmate, for sure.

INTJ friend (long distance).  Very, very prickly to others, but warmed up to me instantly.  Arrogant, albeit extremely logical and intelligent.  Loves memes, biology, and good television.  Adores her girlfriend and gushes about her often (one of the rare instances where she’s a total fluff ball).  Kind of a dick, but also very funny and 100% there for companionable silence or intellectual conversation.  Enjoys being in a group of outcasts and detests most people.  We had a lot of weird things in common and joked about being long lost sisters, and I valued her promptness / dependability!  Her negativity kind of wore me out though (we were studying abroad, and she was homesick for most of it). 

The ENTJ boss.  I no longer work for her, but man, what a powerhouse.  Direct and blunt to a fault, but incredibly motivated and ambitious.  Will get things done, no matter what.  Big idea woman, not so great with the details and how her plans will actually (realistically) be implemented.  SO, so organized and anal, and yet somehow kind of a mess.  Surprises me when she’s emotionally vulnerable because she’s incredibly intimidating and intense.  Loves hosting parties and cooking for her coworkers / neighbors.  Those who are close to her know she has a good heart, but she can seem like a total b** to an outsider.

ISTP coworker.  She’s good at multitasking, and yet she runs late constantly.  Intelligent in the way she asks questions for clarity and a better understanding of a concept.  Calm, collected, and logical.  Creative and impressive in her projects (home remodel, upcycling crafts, etc).  Conversation is a bit surface-level at times and mostly centers around her day to day life experiences or family drama.  She’ll often ask me about my life and then tune me out because she quickly grows bored, as do many other sensors, rip T_T.  We’re a good team, though.

These are my personal experiences with / observations of particular individuals whose type I’m confident about, but they do not represent everyone of the same type.  If anything, I think this goes to show the range of personalities within a function stack.

[erin-gilberts]

chariox, please

Gives nose/forehead kisses - Chariot is more physically affectionate where kisses “just because” are concerned. Physical touch is more her love language than Croix’s, and she’s fond of giving casual forehead kisses as a means of reassurance. 

Gets jealous the most - Jealousy is Croix’s critical flaw, and it was her jealousy toward Chariot that led to her becoming the primary antagonist in canon. Croix 100% has trouble sitting with and controlling her jealousy in a relationship context, too. On some level, when their relationship changes to being romantic, it’s born out of a deep-rooted fear that she isn’t good enough for Chariot after everything she’s done and someday her gf will realize this and leave her. So, she gets both jealous of Chariot and how Chariot’s life has gone compared to her own, and jealous of the people who get her gf’s attention instead of her. 

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive - Neither. They get drunk together and stumble home on public transit inebriated together, laughing and kissing and being ridiculous. They have a recurring silly argument about whether using magic while drunk to get home constitutes “operating a vehicle while intoxicated” and whether or not it’s ethical. Chariot passionately believes it does and it’s not. Croix just plays devil’s advocate to whatever her drunk gf says because it entertains her. 

Takes care of the other on sick days - Croix and only because she has issues around vulnerability and doesn’t let Chariot take care of her when she’s sick. She would much rather push through illness and not show weakness, but she gets worried and anxious when Chariot is sick and goes out of her way to take care of her. 

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day - I have two answers for this. XD On the one hand, totally Chariot, just because she’s a little acrobat who can run on walls and I could 100% see her running around a cliff and diving off of it into the ocean, which sounds fun as hell. But on the other hand, people tend to be either really into the sea or really into space (not both), sometimes to the point of being freaked out by the other one. So I could also argue because Chariot is so into space and astronomy, she’s unnerved by the unfathomable depth and all of the unknowns of the ocean, and she refuses to go out further than ankle-deep into the water. The Loch Ness monster could be out there for all we know. 

Gives unprompted massages - Croix. I see Chariot as a bit more athletic and perhaps a bit physically stronger than Croix, so she has a tendency to be sore more often. Like casual forehead kisses are Chariot’s form of casual affection, unprompted massages are Croix’s version of casual affection. 

Drives/rides shotgun - Croix drives because her magic is so rooted in technological / mechanical engineering. She actually reminds me a lot of Jillian Holtzmann. Chariot rides shotgun because that woman is definitely not a gay who ever learned how to drive. Why would she need to if she can fly on a broom or change the form of her own body to have wings? 

Brings the other lunch at work - Both bring the other lunch at work, mostly so they can convince the other to come have lunch with them or go for a walk during their break. They make excuses to spend time together and to sneak away from their responsibilities for a while. 

Has the better parental relationship - I don’t think either of them had an awful relationship with their parents, but I would definitely say Chariot had a slightly warmer and more openly loving relationship with her parents. I see Croix’s parents as reserved like her when she was a child, and maybe they placed a heavy emphasis on academic success and being the best at all costs. Even when she’s very young, Croix has something to prove, and maybe it’s because she never feels good enough given her parents’ expectations. 

Tries to start role-playing in bed - Croix prefers to think of herself as a top, but she’s in fact Easily Flustered and Aaaaaa 😳 where being intimate with Chariot is concerned. So she definitely tries (key word: tries) to roleplay being a domme from time to time, but despite being so powerful and cool under pressure in other aspects of her life, she’s easily picked apart by her gf. Chariot is extremely aware of the influence she has over her and uses it to her full advantage in bed. I could see her being a bit of a brat, going along with a roleplay to a certain extent only to make Croix’s facade crack with a smile and a well-timed word when she finds it amusing to do so. 

Embarrassingly drunk dancer - Chariot. Just look at this enthusiastic little dork. She gets turned up when there’s a combination of music and drinking. Unlike Croix, Chariot never had any pretenses of looking suave and mysterious. 

Still cries watching Titanic - Chariot. Empathetic and driven by a desire to use her magic to help others, she has a difficult time watching movies about mass tragedies and losses of life. She can’t help but get worked up over what she could have done if she’d been there, despite Croix’s bewildered, sputtered protests that Jack Dawson wasn’t a real person. Chariot insists it’s the principle of the thing while crying on her shoulder, every time. 

Firmly believes in couples costumes - Chariot insisted on best friend costumes when they were kids and she insists on couples costumes now. She can usually charm Croix into going along with it. 

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas - Croix. Gift-giving becomes unfortunately tinged with guilt and regret for her after so many years of distance and envy and anger. She can’t help but feel like she wasted so much time and so many years hurting Chariot and being bitter toward her over something neither of them ever had any control over. She doesn’t necessarily give expensive gifts out of a misguided attempt to atone, but rather, she has trouble sticking to any rules they set about price because she has so many years to make up for not being there and being there in the wrong ways. She’s making up for lost time and she just wants her gf to have the best. 

Makes the other eat breakfast - Both in different circumstances. Chariot is the one who, when her self-care routine slips, is most likely to forget to eat, and Croix is attuned to this enough she makes sure they both eat regularly. Croix is the one who, when she’s actively depressed, will refuse food and wallow, and in this situation, Chariot will make delectable breakfasts she knows her gf can’t refuse. 

Remembers anniversaries - Both are equally likely to remember anniversaries as they are to forget. Listen, they have a lot going on at any given moment. XD They’re both adept at going with the flow if the other acts like the day is a special anniversary. They’ve also both had a handful of sitcom shenanigan moments where they’ve gone, “Oh, shit!” and had to scramble together a date or a present at the last minute. 

Brings up having kids - Chariot would be inclined to see how any children they would have together would be the best of both of them, whereas Croix would be inclined to be fearful of how a child of theirs could be the worst of both of them instead. Croix wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of having kids, but she would have to be gently coaxed out of her worries her child would be like her and her conviction that would be a bad thing.

[mallickshah]

A GATHERING

YEAR 2021 ; MAY 1ST

There was a gathering in a part of the club's faction that not many had ever been to. Behind the tavern that held the name of Yureif, Mallick’s brother, a name that not many knew of either. Mallick’s name had started to make its rounds through the faction though and not just on clubs' lands, but in the entirety of Kadeu. The main reason behind it, at first, had been his new gain of the title of Ace, of course. The manner in which it was obtained, who he had been associated with when it was obtained; the name of The Resistance muddled with the name of the Ace of clubs did not seem to please many, clubs included.

Despite all of that, the new Ace had kept quiet about his whereabouts for two entire weeks. The rumor mill might have enjoyed this absence, this lack of leadership, if it wasn’t for the small things that were also being done while he all but let himself be a simple whisper, or a harsh critic from the mouth of those who wanted this new impostor to reveal his cards. Mallick had learned many things from the man he’d been and the one he now was though, the most important rule he’d himself instilled in his own operations was to move in the shadows.

To many, this title would just be a power trip, something to hold onto while they barked orders and let the rest of the world see how much control they could exerce because of their rank. To many, this title would just be another way to subjugate an already overtaken faction. So Mallick had needed to think about the course of action to take before taking a different path. Because he would certainly not fall into the trap that had led him to fight the last Ace of clubs.

Things needed to be different; many conversations and consulting with his family afterwards had proven this fact correct. It didn’t matter how it was formulated, Mallick had a sense that even his parents had at one time dreamed of an opportunity as such. However, no matter how dire, how urgent it seemed to reveal what he had in his mind, what he knew would be better suited for clubs, without breaking the order of things in which they operated. Or rather, the disorder they thrived in. In order for him to do so, he had to mull, he had to think, to meditate on the matter, to play behind the curtains.

He’d let the rumor mill play its advocate, both for and against him, while Mallick simply let himself use connections he’d never known would find themselves useful for such a thing to tie himself further into this fate. It all brought it down to a statement plastered in clubs' streets, and only in clubs' streets. For one, they were not allowed in other factions, but even if they had been, Mallick would have still excluded all that were not part of this faction.

One sole goal ended up prevailing from the stapling of loose ends and the unifying of alliances needed to be of the same sound mind to better the lives of the people of his faction; their faction. Mallick was not alone in this, he had many other heads he could count, aside from the makeshift council that The Barbarians saw themselves create after the havoc they wrecked on the faction.

They had not been the easiest to reach, or to talk with, or to negotiate with, but Mallick had learned something about himself he’d always feared could rear itself back up. Something that had stayed dormant, and only manifested itself whenever Saiyah could not see him act upon them. Mallick had once been a very domineering young boy, and young man, but by the time he was all but embracing that step in his life, the woman he would never cease to love and adore waltzed in his life and shook the very core of that foundation.

During these two weeks, Mallick had admitted to himself that Saiyah was no longer and would never be again, so it was time for him to reconcile with the man he had been. The one who had been the cause of her death, for the foes that he’d gained along the way not forgetting his old ways. This man could now come at the forefront, and the ire he would instigate would be more than justified. It had once been unfair to try to coerce him out, but it was now the perfect fit for these gloves.

Or for this stand, among the clamoring of the crowd.

The sun was too high for it to be the beginning of May, but maybe this spoke to the urgency of the current situation. Mallick was aware of many things. One, the only reason why so many people were here was because of the allies he’d decided to take with him, his name only would not have been able to draw such a crowd. Two, the crowd was growing restless with the heat, their gaze too focused and their bodies would soon find themselves needing some type of action to relieve themselves of the heat they were enduring. Three, that release when it came to clubs would simply end up in a brawl rather than a quiet disapproving grumblings.

He knew these people, he was one of them. So it made him feel less and less apprehensive as he took his time to exit his brother’s tavern and walk up to the wooden stand. Yureif had taken some pride in his tavern being the place of the gathering, and Devjay had appointed himself as the man one would have to cross first before they could get to him. They were still debating on whether they should label him a right-hand, or a brother in arms. For now, he was simply all but Mallick’s shadow.

Mallick had only ever been a lover of the light, or rather, ever since a certain one slipped in uninvited and brought in even more than he’d ever thought could possibly be found. But he’d picked the black panther as his emblem for a good reason, Mallick had always been a man of the shadows.

It was commanding to see how the moment he stepped into view, the clamoring quieted, and when he rose behind the stand, the crowd took a stance. Mallick had made himself ready for what he knew of these people, his people. If a fight had to break while he was talking, or even before, he’d simply let it unfold and do this at another time.

However, a single line on the posters had advised them to not start a brawl if they wanted to be given anything they wished from the tavern, free of charge. Mallick had shamelessly bribed his way into making sure they behaved, or tried to at the very least. His brother might suffer a few losses for a bit, but it’d quickly come back compensated if this took flight the way Mallick hoped it would.

The heat of the day was now sitting atop his head, his shaved beard was no longer leaving him with a vulnerable feeling. He was long past that sensibility to the sight he was used to showing to his reflection.

Mallick started speaking and hoped to the gods that this would not derail in another civil war.

THE SPEECH (THE ACTIONS & REACTIONS)

I come to you with something we’ve never thought we could have, something none of us probably ever think of now, because we are not used to it being offered; peace. I do not mean peace by giving to others what we have and wishing that they treat us right, or giving up who we are and what we believe in to be the way they wish us to be. I mean peace in being ourselves, peace in giving to the people of this faction something better than the bloodshed they’ve been enduring, generation after generation. We are crumbling! But look at you, you are warriors, fighters, better than soldiers, some of you are the most fearless merchants! We have the power and we have the skills it takes to make us better together. That is where I want you to start, when you think about what can be done for the future.

(The crowd was still attentive, but some were slowly leaving their position, dispersing as Mallick stepped off the stand to walk among them; and as his voice grew louder, some did halt and turn around. Perhaps begrudgingly, perhaps simply to enjoy the spectacle, or who knows, get a pass in to take down this new Ace.)

I come in peace, because I realize I might not be the image of what you would think to be a strong representation of us, but I am not a weak man and no men in clubs are weak. None! WE are what WARRIORS were meant to be and WARRIORS do not fight dishonorably, nor do they kill for the thrill, we kill to feed our families, we FIGHT to show our strength. We can still do that and do it to have BETTER for all of US. Don’t you see it? The other factions do not care about us, they will jibe, they will insult, they will mock us and we let them do it by continuing to act like WE are NOTHING else but the WEAPONS WE CARRY.

(The crowd has not entirely dispersed, some newcomers have found themselves walking forward because of a sudden clamor of a lone man now carrying the hammer of another, Mallick is that lone man. He is all but arm wrapped around the shoulders of the weapon’s owner and somewhere, someone finally does something that shows less disinterest; a scream is heard.)

But first--I wish to say that it almost brought me to a path none wishes to carry. To work in the shadows of a rebellion that might have tainted my reputation for your eyes. But I did it for the union of this faction. Because I was a lost man, and for that, I will never use their name, because they should remain in the shadows, where they belong. WE do not belong in the shadow, we BELONG in a light that has long been shining on others because they casted us their clouds.

When I say WE, I mean all of us. The weak, the poor, the rich, and especially the STRONG.

(It has to come to this; Mallick walking among the crowd and the crowd walking with Mallick. They make rounds, they move with something akin to a trance. Maybe something has been sprayed in the air, maybe it is simply that the heat has finally gotten to them all. The Ace and the people, the ones that are left and the new ones, they might as well just mesh and become one.)

ARE YOU NOT TIRED OF BEING AT THE BOTTOM WHEN YOU ARE THE MIGHTIEST?

(Now the chaos is present; but it is not a chaos of weapons brandished against each other, it is of weapons held up and clinking, the way one would cheer with pints; not the delicate touch of a wine glass. Mallick was yanked somewhere in between; his brother all but wearing a disapproving scowl when all it did was make him laugh heartily. There’s this glee in his eyes that has Devjay letting him go then, there’s something more potent than anything else Mallick has ever felt in his life. It feels alive and like it will consume him, but if it comes to that, then he’ll let it be. The crowd quiets when the silence stretches for longer, without Mallick’s voice, without his words and suddenly as he’s back behind the stand, they all look confusedly for a second. Weapons are held, the tension seems to return. Mallick clears his throat and holds them with a steady gaze. He’s all but one man against a crowd, but there’s an undeniable power and confidence in him that tells them if he has to, he will fight every single one of them if they dared to challenge him. Mallick waits. The silence stretches. Then a grin pulls the corners of his lips.)

Well if you are TIRED, then rest assured that I’ll make sure to remind them they shouldn’t have underestimated you.

(The end might feel anticlimactic for many, but it is also the beginning of one promise being complied with. One promise that put them all right where they are needed, in the Panther’s den. As they gather in the tavern once it is made clear that they can by the owner of the tavern, Mallick follows suit; ready to put on his best suit; and gather all the information he can from the ones who he noticed stayed from the beginning to the end. It is not all the members of the faction that need convincing; it is the ones who could turn out to believe in him and in what he wants to do more than they would in anything else; those are the ones that he needs on his side. Mallick is aware of this and he will not lose this opportunity to build the threat that will lead him where he needs to get. Like his emblem of choice, The Black Panther prowls; stays quiet; strikes when it is ripe to do so.)

[zeal-ascendancy]

Interlude: A Man’s Greatness

Dalton remembered the day King Zeal died. Everyone did. However, for Dalton it was also the day he lost his own father in a way. His father had been the head of the guard in the castle, the man that stood between the royal family and danger. Dalton felt immense pride being the son of such an important person and hoped one day to be given the same task when his father retired. Then the unthinkable happened.

Dalton remembered the day all too well. The King had insisted on visiting the Earthbound for humanitarian reasons. Dalton never understood why King Zeal wanted to treat them as anything more than animals. They weren’t Enlightened. They couldn’t use magic. It privately disgusted him but Dalton knew better than to speak ill of the royal family. Zeal ruled eternal. That is, until a mudbeast broke into the Earthbound village and gored the king before Dalton’s father could stop it. His father lost an arm for his effort to rescue the king.

The healers tried everything but in the end, the king died of his injuries with his wife, the Queen, by his side in those final moments. Princess Schala comforted her little brother, Prince Janus. No one thought to ask Dalton how he felt.

While the Gurus determined that his father had done everything to protect the king and the whole incident was nothing more than a tragic accident, it didn’t stop the people of Zeal from blaming him nonetheless. The public shame and the pain from his injury was too much for Dalton’s father. By the next moon, he had taken his own life. Again, no cared to ask Dalton what he thought. No one mourned him but Dalton.

After his father’s death, Dalton was given his job. The Gurus advocated for him to remain the successor and the Queen, in her infinite compassion, agreed to the decision. He was not at fault for the mistakes of his father. Dalton worked doubly hard to prove his worthiness. He excelled at his job yet his mind was troubled by his father’s death.

He often found himself spending time before the Mammon Machine when he wasn’t working. The hum and warmth of the machine that allowed the Enlightened to do wonders with their magic comforted him. It was strange to say but it almost felt like it spoke to him.

Five years passed and many spoke Dalton’s praises. He kept the kingdom safe and led an impressive force of troops. Still, it never felt like enough. He wanted more and he knew that he deserved it. He had earned it for years of loyalty. He tried to subtly court Princess Schala, who had grown into a beautiful young woman but she rejected his advances. He hoped for say in how the kingdom should be run but the queen delegated those duties to the Gurus.

One day, after a particularly frustrating and useless day of training Prince Janus, Dalton went to the Mammon machine as he usually would to find peace. As he was heading towards the hall to the machine, Dalton noticed a bookshelf nearby was ajar. There was something behind it.

Ensuring no one noticed him, Dalton went over to investigate. It looked like one of the Guru’s workshops. Judging from the plans sprawled across the table, it was Balthasar’s. Looking along a bookshelf within the room, a book caught his attention. It looked like it was filled with blueprints for a building, a small palace perhaps but notes along the margin spoke of moving the Mammon Machine to it and drawing more power from the “source of magic.”

Reading on, Dalton found more notes about this “ocean palace” and how, in theory, it could make the Enlightened immortal. Yet, Balthasar expressed concern that such an operation needed more research before considering actually building it. Balthasar had written that the queen agreed with his concerns. Dalton felt a deep burning rage build in his heart.

How could the queen do this to the kingdom? To him? To deny them immortality?! He grabbed the plans off the shelf and stormed out, shutting the bookshelf behind him. That’s when he felt it. The Mammon Machine called to him.

Entering the room, Dalton approached the machine slowly. It spoke to him, not so much in words but in feelings and visions. A name came to his mind. Lavos. Lavos slumbered deep in the earth as it had for eons. He would build this “ocean palace” in secret. Lavos would allow him to be immortal for his efforts and he would show the kingdom how they had squandered his greatness once he was a god. It would take time but the reward would be worth it.

[dreamerwriternstargazer]

In Defence of Team Purple Lion

Voltron: Legendary Defender and its final season remains as one of the most poorly received children���s shows in the past decade. The show was a reboot from DreamWorks of the popular Voltron franchise owned by WEP LLC (World Event Productions) who were responsible for the first version of the show Voltron: Defender Of The Universe (1984), an adaptation of the anime show GoLion by Toei Animation. It initially started strong when released in 2016, with a premise that of a typical mech-centric kids’ show; 5 pilots of 5 robot lions coming together to form one big robot (Voltron) to fight against a big bad alien villain in space, however despite the formulaic appearance it proved to be a captivating watch with detailed and beautiful animation as well as surprisingly deep subject matter. The themes and messages of the show touched on darker topics such as racism and genocide with the backdrop of a complex portayal of war while still balancing it with the light-hearted and goofy dynamics of the diverse main characters, played by a diverse cast. Produced by Lauren Montgomery and Joaquim Dos Santos, both of whom had worked on the acclaimed Avatar: The Last Airbender and Legend Of Korra, the story set up promised an equally deep and intricate story for VLD as had been the case for ATLA and LoK, as a result the show attracted a large and varied fan base beyond just children, many fans adults eager to see how the story and darker themes would be resolved as well as how the minority representations would be treated.

The final season released on Dec 14th 2018 came as a great shock to fans, not only were they intensely dissatisfied with the ending, virtually no one from any area or sub fandom was happy with the season as a whole and at the time of this article’s writing it has lower than a 6% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. The show and its producers faced massive criticism over insensitive representations of minorities, an unsympathetic and condemning end for an abuse victim despite redemption for their abusers and a disempowering arc for the main woman of colour character in which she was sidelined and dismissed by her male counterparts up until her sacrifice. The core themes and messages of love, forgiveness and acceptance regardless of race were completely subverted, instead conveying to an impressionable Y-7 and above audience the opposite; heritage and race define a person rather than their own actions. As well as fans, many parents of kids who watched the show expressed unhappiness with the final season due to the toxic and regressive messages it sent. Soon after the season dropped a petition emerged to “free the original season 8 of Voltron” due to the belief that the final season was in fact an edited product of what the creators originally planned. This belief was sparked by visual inconsistencies in the season itself, the audio description not lining up with the action on screen (now fixed), one character not being played by her voice actor but her voice actually another character’s with the pitch turned up as well as comments from the cast and animators, now deleted. The strongest claims of edits were made by Tumblr user Leaking Hate in her initial meta Chasing The Ghosts Of Season 8 and the follow up, a more detailed breakdown, Seek Truth In Darkness in which she presented an alternative story that had been edited and cut down for reasons then unknown, with narrative and visual evidence from the season itself to support her argument. She and a few other fans officially came together in February 2019 to form Team Purple Lion, a team of analysts dedicated to finding the truth behind the disaster of the final season. However, since the fandom had had a poor history of harassing the show’s creators over ships (romantic relationships between characters) most attributed the poor story and resolve to an attempt to keep things neutral romantically between characters in a poor bid to please everyone. As a result the petition and campaign were merely linked to lack of shipping satisfaction for the fandom and dismissed as more toxic fandom behaviour that had been displayed previously by many fans.

Petitions and campaigns like these are not uncommon after a show or film’s ending, similar situations might be the HIMYM backlash in which fans were so unhappy with the ending of the show that there was a petition for an alternative ending, as well as the petition to Warner Bros regarding the Snyder Cut of Justice League. Both of these have actually succeeded with the Snyder cut of Justice League set to release in 2021 and the HIMYM DVD box sets containing the alternative ending, however what makes the Free VLD s8 campaign now led by Team Purple Lion unique is its claim that there’s an original finished product that the creators intended for release but was edited after completion to produce the poor final season that was released on Netflix. Often corporate meddling in creative works is common but it has not been documented before as a post production occurrence changing the finished work, it’s always taken place pre-production as was the case with Disney and Colin Trevorrow’s original script for ep. IX or during production, in the case of Justice League and Zak Snyder.

Since the start of the campaign in Dec 2018 there’s been continuous investigation and action taken by TPL to provide proof for their claims and the movement has evolved into a fight for creators’ rights, still active now a year and a half on. Their investigation early on resulted in discovering the IP holder (those who own the trademark) WEP as the ones with control over the show and therefore responsible for the released edited season 8. They’ve since defended DreamWorks and the showrunners from criticism in favour of requesting WEP and specifically President Robert Koplar, self proclaimed “steward of the property” for the original season 8 by the showrunners that was not released. There’s also been strong advocation from TPL to keep the protest against WEP’s interference with the creative team’s work peaceful to avoid dismissal and belittlement due to prior instances of the VLD fandom’s toxic behaviour that often included harassment of showrunners and toxic fan behaviour ranging from abusive remarks online to death threats, after the final season rumours were flying and the EPs faced abuse from upset fans so there was an active effort to stay civil on TPL’s part. 

TPL and the #FreeVLDS8 movement has continuously faced criticism and backlash since its start regardless, the response from fellow fans ranging from supportive to downright disbelief and even the showrunners stating publicly [March 28th 2019 Let’s Voltron podcast] that there’s no “alternate cut of Voltron” branding the idea as a “conspiracy theory”. Claims of harassment have been attributed to TPL and the legitimacy of their allegations questioned, one fan questioning the possibility of the edits’ execution as well as others categorizing them as fans creating a theory based on shipping fulfillment. The controversy and consistent campaign a year and a half on interested me greatly, therefore after being led back to the movement by the very comments discrediting them I approached Team Purple Lion for comment on the aforementioned claims as well as conducting my own research and investigation into them. 3 members of the team, Crystal Rebellion, Dragon Of Yang and Leaking Hate spoke to me openly about their campaign and my own research produced some interesting results as well. 

The basis of their argument is set on the show’s final season being an edited product, when I asked about what pushed her to this conclusion and writing her initial meta Leaking Hate explained that a mutual friend of Crystal and her’s drew their attention to it through the story saying: 

“It’s interesting, nearly ALL of the episodes had a moment or two in them where Lotor [male villain] COULD have reappeared, and didn’t. Do you think he was written in to be the savior all along, and it was the higher ups that said no, good boy Lance [one of the main characters]? It seems like, given the narrative, and even given this season, it should have been Lotura [Lotor and Allura ship name], and all that wasn’t just feels… off. And not as a Lotura stan, I mean in general.” 

“And YES I had. There was a narrative gap where Lotor should have fit, but for some reason wasn’t.” Hate said, “The initial conclusion we jumped to was that Lotor had been removed in the writing stage.” 

It wasn’t until another friend mentioned a key scene out of place in the story and she went back to view it that she started to suspect the season had been changed from its original state. The scene in question was one in which Lotor says “Follow me!” at the end of Allura’s dream sequence in s8 ep8 Clear Day, despite his death being established before and after this point in the story. “There was no reason for that Follow Me shot to be there,” Hate explained, “unless the action of the viewer following Lotor had been removed.” Having studied a Fine Art degree and therefore well versed in animation and visual art she was able to recognise scenes that had been edited unusually throughout the season once she actively searched for other visual evidence. The Follow Me scene as well as others she found are displayed in her Ghosts meta, all indicating a different story from the one told in the show, along with the evidence Leaking Hate presented some initial ideas on what the story was (a redemption arc for Lotor and several sub arcs for the main characters that resolved their stories and previously set up story beats).

[Image Description: A close up of Prince Lotor’s face from season 8 on Netflix, staring directly out of the picture at the viewer. There are subtitles showing his speech at the bottom of the image, saying “Follow me!” End ID]

After Team Purple Lion’s formation Leaking Hate went on to publish a part two to her initial Ghosts meta, a 21k word meta entitled Seek Truth In Darkness which contained all visual evidence of edits found in the season as well as an extrapolation of the initial story indicated by said edits. The original story appeared to resolve unfinished narratives and arcs that the released s8 dismissed and the treatment of the representations in the show better, from respect towards minorities to an empowering arc for Allura, the main female character. Despite the original season having a more positive story, negative feedback from fans has been more common than positive. When I questioned the team members on it Leaking Hate mentioned “most people who believe we’re wrong tend to think we’re wrong in our premise” Dragon of Yang confirming that “it’s usually the premise of “VLD was edited after completion” that people disagree with”. However the screenshots they present as visual evidence hint at some truth in their argument, the first screen cap shown below indicative of some poor edits made to the animation since 3 characters are essentially cropped out of the picture.

[Image description: A split-screen from season 8 on Netflix, featuring from left to right: an Altean pilot, Merla, Keith, Hunk’s shoulder, Pidge, the top half of Allura’s face, and the top half of Lance’s face. End ID]

Likewise this screen cap shows a split screen visually unbalanced with 2 characters at the bottom partially cropped out as well as the character on the left side with a much larger screen space than the other characters.

[Image description: A split screen from season 8 on Netflix, featuring from left to right: top left Shiro, below him is Keith in a larger section and Allura in a small triangular section below and to the right of Keith’s section. In the middle is a section showing Honerva’s mech stabbing the Voltron-Atlas mech with purple lightning shooting out. On the top right is Hunk, below him is Pidge, and below her the top half of Lance’s face. End ID]

Seasons prior to the final had always had visually balanced split screens with each character centred in their frames appropriately, indicating these and other s8 shots like them as an anomaly.

Hate reconstructed both screencaps based on what she believed they were originally:

[Image description: A split-screen from season 8 on Netflix, featuring from left to right: an Altean pilot, Merla, Keith, Hunk’s shoulder, Pidge, the top half of Allura’s face, and the top half of Lance’s face. On the top, right, and bottom of this screencap is dark pink background with the black lines of the split-screen extending to the edges of the colors, marking out where the rest of Hunk, Allura, and Lance should be visible if the view had not been cropped. With the lines extending out, Keith’s portion of the screen is also extended, leaving a completely removed section of the split-screen remaining, which is highlighted purple in this image. End ID]

[Image description: A split-screen from season 8 on Netflix, featuring from left to right: top left Shiro, below him is Keith, below and to the right of Keith is Allura in a small triangle section, the bottom of her face slightly cut off. In the middle is a section showing Honerva’s mech stabbing the Voltron-Atlas mech with purple lightning shooting out. On the top right is Hunk, below him is Pidge, and below her the top half of Lance’s face. On the left, right and bottom of the screencap is a dark pink background with the black lines of the split-screen extending to the edge of the colours, marking out where the rest of Lance and Allura should be visible if the view had not been cropped. Keith’s portion of the screen is smaller and a small dark pink section to the right separates his portion from the middle. Below him where his portion originally extended to is a section coloured dark purple that extends a little further to the left of Allura’s portion. End ID]

Other noticeable examples include scenes with the female lead Allura where her proportions do not match with any prior drawings of herself indicating that she was another character redrawn, Leaking Hate suggested Lotor as his proportions fit each instance. 

[Image description: 2 pictures of Allura in the Blue Lion from a front and centre angle side by side. On the left Allura has her eyes closed and her arms stretched out holding onto the controls, the entire cockpit is glowing blue. On the right Allura’s eyes are open with a determined look on her face, she’s slightly hunched with her arms gripping the controls, the cockpit is coloured normally. End ID]

The image on the left is of Allura from s8 ep13 and the one on the right from the same episode a few minutes later, scaled so the interiors (which are unchanging 3D models) are the same size. She is notably taller in the one on the right with her head reaching above the seat and her frame bigger, with wider shoulders and thighs.

These are just a few out of the many examples of edits made that Leaking Hate presents in her metas along with her reconstruction of the original season based on what each edit indicates. While the reconstruction is to some point subjective, the visual inconsistencies are clear and can be easily checked by watching the show at each point said to be edited.

The timeframe and possibility for the edits’ execution, called into question by a fan on a twitter thread (now deleted) stating “it’s not physically possible to make that many edits in 2 months and with leftover budget”, was also addressed by the team and their work. Leaking Hate clarified that “it wasn’t 2 months” that they took place in, “it was 6. The edits began in mid July”, a fact determined by voice actor Jeremy Shada mentioning in an interview released on July 23rd that he had gone in to record new lines at the time. Hate also said, “It’s less of a question of would they have time than it is, well. They did do it. It was nearly impossible. But the fact that it is done shows that they did.” She went on, “I think people misunderstand when we claim it was ‘edited’. They hear “it was reanimated”, but it wasn’t reanimated. There is NO new animation in the edited s8 at all. As far as I can tell, 99% of the edits are composed of tracing, clever cuts and sleight of hand.” This is backed up by all the visual evidence they present as well as their work, claiming absence of animation (making the story disjointed and incoherent in places) rather than new, additional animation changing it. 

Crystal Rebellion added, “One thing that strikes us (I feel pretty confident speaking for everyone in this case) is that Studio Mir [responsible for animating the show] is impeccably flawless with their work. Their previous work before Voltron: Legendary Defender, and even Seasons 1-6 and most of 7 are beautifully animated. Stunning. Season 8... is not. Studio Mir also had a viewing party for VLD: S8 - and they reported that they loved the final product; so the animators saw Season 8 after it was completed. The season, however, that aired, was really shoddy animation, rough transitions, music mistakes, and what appear to be alterations to still images - it isn't their usual quality of work, and moreover, the animators have stated that they don't recognize what aired. Often we've been asked something like 'Maybe they just didn't know what scenes they were animating' or 'Didn't know the intended finished product' but in this case, it is documented that they saw the final season and that it's different from what was aired. The poor workmanship in what we see from S8 - all the edits Hate goes through to find and explain, coupled with Mir's disbelief, is indicative that the animation studio had no idea this happened. That means it 1) Happened post-production and 2) It wasn't the Studio that changed anything. Dos Santos mentions in an interview [March 4th ABTV] that they were cut and pasting mouths and moving frames around - no time, no budget, and no staff left. It was all them, after it had been completed - after Mir had seen the original rendition and loved it, that all this happened. The parallel point to that to further support it is, had this been written in the script from the beginning, we would've seen a flawlessly animated season with a painful storyline. We don't see that.” 

Although Mir’s reaction to the season they viewed in October (before its official drop) has since been deleted, one animator’s response to the season 8 that was released on Netflix is still online, comparing the show to a house and stating that “every single brick of the last season is very upsetting” but “everything else is good” (translation can be found here), making it clear he was not pleased with the final product. Joaquim Dos Santos does also mention in the interview Crystal references that changes were made to season 8 after season 7 dropped, stating, “You can probably see it in the animation. If you really pay attention it’s like, it’s literally our editor cutting out mouths and puppeting different dialogue.” It’s documented that the epilogue was added to s8 late after s7 dropped however it does not have any dialogue, this statement paired with Shada’s about “still recording on Voltron” begs the question, what change was made besides the epilogue? Hate shows in her Darkness meta that Shada’s character Lance was used to replace Lotor as well as Allura in key scenes, if Shada was still recording lines (unusual since audio recording is done very early in animation production) then it would have been for these moments.

Not all criticism has been based on the editing premise however; the story they present as the original has garnered negative comments as well since it featured Lotor, a divisive character due to his moral ambiguity and previous condemnation as a killer, and predominantly focused on his redemption as well as relationship with Allura. The narrative makes it clear that Lance, the blue paladin and one of the main characters popular with fans, would not have been the focus as he was in the released season and would have been replaced by Lotor as Allura’s partner. When I brought up the claims of bias in their reconstruction Leaking Hate pondered on it. 

 “Do I love the story because it is Lotura, or do I love Lotura because the story makes me love it?” she mused, “I think it's all the same. I was able to pick out the original story because of my bias in favour of Lotor, Allura, and Lotura. Had I not been invested in those characters, and that ship, I would have had no reason to look. I am not reconstructing based on wish fulfillment, or what I want to see,” she asserted, “but the story I am finding happens to be a story that I love.” In regards to Lance and her analysis on him she stated bluntly, “I HATE Lance. Were I reconstructing based on wish fulfillment I would have him alone and miserable. But that is not a good story. The real story of OGS8 has Lance coming to love himself and to learn to accept Allura's friendship as equally worthy as her romantic affection. It has him grow into a good man, and it has him become Allura's right hand when he helps her save the man she loves. It is an uplifting and wholesome message for little boys and grown men alike. And I think it is equally important that we save S8 for Lance as it is that we save it for Lotor and Allura.” When I mentioned that some would find her dislike of Lance an argument against her she also added that “they are right to.”

“I would not trust someone claiming to have found the 'real' story if I knew they hated Lotor or Allura.” However she admitted, “I don't hate him all the time. I think, if the Lance we get in OGS8 is the Lance I believe is there, then I will find him tolerable, if irritating.”

While it’s true that Hate is critical of Lance and his character, the reconstructed story she presents in Seek Truth does reflect her words, giving him an empowering and sympathetic arc growing from his previous immature and womanising character into a selfless, respectful friend. The team have also put their efforts into creating and realising the story in their reconstruction of the original s8, Rise and Atone, and so far it has stayed true to what they’ve promised, addressing characters and their arcs, the only deviation made being a romance free conclusion in a bid to stay ship-neutral. Dragon of Yang explained the narrative decisions they made with R&A stating clearly, “If this was wish fulfillment, we would have stopped at one detail or another. Every character’s arc was halted and destroyed beyond reconciliation or catharsis. Every character deserves their story to be done justice, and open-endings give that catharsis VLD originally had while remaining respectful to everyone’s shipping preferences. VLD is a story of hope and growth, to deny that a character has grown since day 1 is to deny that there is a story there to be told, and that in turn denies a person out there - who likely identifies with that character - the feeling of being seen. The best thing we can do as scholars and as activists,” she concluded, “is try to recreate the vision the staff had originally made and do so with care and attention to the work they put into every line.”

As for the harassment claims attributed to Team Purple Lion by both fans and The Voltron Store on twitter, there’s not much to support them, and in fact a great deal to disprove them. The team has maintained a level of professionalism in both their work and in their conduct online, consistently citing sources and providing proof for claims as well as campaigning respectfully. Hate commented, “they seem to be conflating our protest with the general hatred being thrown around in the fandom. We've made a point to emphasize polite but firm protest and advocate reaching out through official channels.” While there is a lot of anger and hate from fans towards the show and the producers, none of it has been from Team Purple Lion. Their protest has continuously avoided and often defended the producers and voice actors, who have been regularly attacked by other fans during the show’s airing and since due to the poor conclusion, all of whom TPL have made clear are under NDAs and cannot comment freely (although it’s worth noting, they stopped actively promoting the show on their social media after the season 8 release). Instead their questioning has focused on WEP, the company who own the Voltron trademark, after discovering through a meta analysis of a VLD episode signs that they were meddling with the creators’ vision of the show and ordered them to change it against the producers’ wishes. While it was only a speculative piece, WEP’s quick reaction to the release of said meta by claiming through their Voltron Store twitter that they “do not have any influence over the creative direction of the show” despite ignoring fans for months after the season release suggests some truth to it. Twitter user Eros compiled all evidence of their involvement since then in a Twitter thread and the majority of it is damning, their denial directly contradicting statements from the voice actors and producers prior to and after s8 that confirmed they were the controlling party and had creative input, as well as the creators’ desire to tell a progressive and empowering story however not being able to because of “other controlling parties” outside of DreamWorks. WEP have also made contradictory statements to fans about the season, saying that “nothing was edited” yet agreeing with a fan that a lot was left out and a director’s cut would sell well, as well as mocking another who left a Facebook review (March 16th 2019) complaining of being hung up on, replying to them that an “imposter” answered their phones:

[Image description: A facebook review of The Voltron Store. Text from the top reads as: 

Reviewer (name coloured out) doesn’t recommend The Voltron Store. 

Review reads: Terrible customer service. They literally hung up on me mid sentence and it was clearly not a case of a call accidentally being dropped. Extremely disappointed by the lack of professionalism!

The Voltron Store’s reply to the reviewer: if you actually talked to us you would find we are very nice people! And we never hang up on anybody EVER - unless they make outrageous claims like Power Rangers is better than Voltron!

The reviewer’s reply: The Voltron Store I did speak to a woman who identified herself Stephanie briefly, but I will never speak to your company again. Thank you for the response but I don't appreciate being called a liar. Please see the attached screenshot for proof of my abruptly ended call back in January. I desire to have no further communication with your company now, I simply decided finally other people deserved to know my personal experience.

Below is a screenshot showing the reviewer called The Voltron Store’s number.

The Voltron Store replied: We do not have a Stephanie here. That must be the issue: you dealt with an imposter! We would review the security cam footage but it does not go back 2 months. End ID.]

In stark contrast to WEP, Team Purple Lion has responded to criticism and addressed it, as well as reaching out to media outlets to clarify and correct poorly sourced claims, however have been faced with no response. Their questioning of WEP and their requests for the original season 8 on social media have been civil; their replies to the Voltron Store posts on Twitter containing no insults or cruel remarks, the harshest only critiques on the company’s lack of tact promoting a show and its merchandise that many considered offensive and toxic due to the last season. “At no point did we set out as some kind of campaign to “attack WEP” or “demand a new season”,” Crystal Rebellion said. “We were a handful of people looking at what amounted to, to use a metaphor, a puzzle that had technically been assembled but most of the pieces didn’t match up properly. We eventually decided to take the pieces that didn’t line up and look at what the picture was supposed to be. There was no ulterior motive - we just wanted the truth. When we realised the truth and it became obvious early on that Mir had seen the original season, we became convinced there was an unedited s8, perhaps in Mir’s backup drives. People saw it, which means it was a completed product, so it became a campaign to ask for it, it’s what the fandom wants, it’s what is profitable.”

In the face of all the negative response and disbelief, Team Purple Lion have gathered an overwhelming amount of evidence to support their case, not only from the show itself but also corroborating statements from the production team and cast as well as WEP’s conduct in response to the campaign. As a result TPL have gained a great amount of support and followers from the Voltron fandom, and are still gaining more a year and a half later. “I gotta give a shout out to Cosmic Royalty,” Leaking Hate said, “a group of Russian fans who reached out to us asking if they could do translations of our work. We host their translations on our website now and there’s apparently a group 500 strong on the Russian social media site VK that supports the work we do together!” Violet Howler on Tumblr has also been a big supporter as well as new fans, recently revealing themselves in the wake of good news, the fight to get the original season seemingly won as Leaking Hate displayed in her most recent meta. In it Hate outlines evidence for the franchise’s ownership changing hands from WEP to DreamWorks and therefore the release of the original season, based on the recent repromotion of the show through articles, new merchandise from the store and the new store designs that all suggest the release, since there would be no other reason to promote a show that was a PR disaster, so universally hated. Regardless of all the opposition and discredit they have faced, confirmation of the truth of Voltron’s original season 8’s fate is expected this summer before the official art book is made available, in the form of the season’s release itself. Whether the fans will be happy with it is another story, however Leaking Hate emphasised firmly that fan satisfaction was not the point, or at least not entirely. “Nothing is perfect, and nothing will please everyone. Especially a show like VLD, with almost 35 years of legacy and fans behind it. There are people who will not like the original season, there are even some who will prefer the edited one - I’m sure the WEP executives are some of them. But it will be the season it was supposed to be, the one that was a labour of love. There is so much love and care poured into every frame of VLD, this was a story that the people working on it wanted to tell; it was more than just a job to them. It was created with love, and it was with love that we fought for it, and when it comes down to it that’s what VLD’s meta narrative was about: love.”

[scribbleseas]

The Indignant Pawn, Chapter II: The Woman In Beige

Description: You are Y/n Y/l/n- formerly known as Princess Helena, the runaway princess.

You're an assassin for hire who only agrees to find the worst of London's criminals at the business end of your knife; until a mysterious woman hires you to end the likes of Ciel Phantomhive, the King of the Underworld. You find yourself trading your weapons for your abandoned family crest in order to infiltrate his home as none other than Princess Marie-Louise, your twin sister. What's to happen when you find that the young Earl is more than a callous businessman?

OVERALL STORY WARNINGS: sexual assault, objectification, death, detailed description of blood/gore, detailed description of murder, lying, impersonation, theft, weapons, detailed panic attacks, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.

Author’s Note: If you have any questions or concerns about these warnings, please don’t hesitate to contact me! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

-Dan

⇠ PREVIOUS CHAPTER  | NEXT CHAPTER ⇢

. . .

DECEMBER 17TH, 1891

LONDON, ENGLAND

The outside of the Globe theater was alight with bustling crowds as Oscar Wilde's London premiere of Salome had just concluded for the evening.

You were never partial towards theater. In fact, it made you wonder how a show could captivate such a diverse audience, as you watched formally clothed aristocrats and their servants cringed amongst the middle-class plebeians as they exited the theater through the matching front doors. Little did they know, the real show would take place inside of the closed carriage you waited in, peering through the red blind that covered it. Your thumb ran over the smooth pommel of your dagger. You focused on its smooth entirety as you sat back in the carriage to wait, distracting yourself from the consuming darkness.

Thankfully, Felix Keating, the wealthiest factory owner from Birmingham, valued his privacy. He opted for a carriage that had a single window on the door. This made his carriage an ideal place for you to intervene and elude any potential witnesses, considering the man had little to no time alone. In your case, it was less than optimal, but strategically, it was going to do the trick.

You stared at the wall of the carriage across from you before squeezing your eyes shut. You tried to focus on something concrete- perhaps the weight of your weapon, the tickle that your wool scarf gave your lip as it concealed the bottom half of your face. You inhaled deeply, reaching out for the drape of the window to let a fraction of light, but you froze and for a moment, you were...gone. When you opened your eyes again, you found yourself in the hallway of your home, a lantern burning dimly in your hand as you heard two men talking- one voice familiar, the other strange.

'Lass? I haven't the slightest-'

'Just hand over the money and we won't have to blow no one's brains outta their skulls.'

Gunshots. Blood.

'Has she already been broken in? Lord knows what she was doing here with that old bum.'

'Doesn't matter, she's ours now, isn't that right?'

'Whore?'

Cold.

Piercing pain in your neck reminded you that you were in a carriage with years of difference from that morning. You had a job to do as you heard approaching steps and the posh voice of the factory owner himself. Before sinking to the corner furthest from the door, you took a generous inhale of the drafty air and focused on how it filled your lungs, rather than the poorly timed panic that the darkness insisted on showing you towards. You wiggled your toes in your black boots and wrinkled your nose, which served as tics that you had cautiously picked out years ago to help ground yourself when necessary. You held the dagger in your hand, the blade ready to pierce a sinner's flesh.

"That playwright will bring tears to the steeliest of lads. Quite brilliant. I must write to Wilde," Felix Keating's dulcet voice sounded as his coachman greeted him. "Reckon I could stick my nose into the theater enterprise, Her Majesty is quite interested in renovating these rubbish theaters," Keating mused, his muffled voice growing closer by the step.

"A clever investment, Mr. Keating," the coachman validated as you hugged your legs, making yourself smaller in the corner of the carriage, your head down and hood up. The door opened and you held your breath, as your heart pounded against your ribcage in protest. "May I offer you extra linens for warmth? The wind's just startin' up."

This wasn't the first time you've had to hide in order to carry out an assignment, yet the adrenaline between waiting and pouncing was always riveting.

"Ah, no Horace, I'll be 'right," Keating took his seat, more focusing on lighting his cigar. The scent caused you to tense, reminding you of the conman, someone smoked as if his life depended on it. He was a smart man that would scold you for the way you grew past his death. He'd be disappointed in you, a relentless advocate for diplomacy. Ask questions, shoot later.

"Right. If you change your mind, you gimme a holler," Horace, the coachman, shut the door as Keating settled himself with an exasperated sigh. He pushed the short drapes that were concealing the window, allowing the city lights to illuminate the small quarters and simply watched the street go by as Horace told the horse to "get walkin".

Without wasting another moment, you got to your feet, your dagger precariously reflecting light that shone through the window.

"Who is it? Who's there-" Keating started to shout, immediately sitting to attention as you used the whole of your arm's strength to shove him back against the wall that he was previously reclining against. Your nondominant hand barely fit around the circumference of his clammy neck, but nevertheless you were able to force his head back completely, his torso following in suit. You squeezed firmly, your fingers digging into the warm flesh and you could feel his hurried pulse with ease as you kept your back straight and legs strong. The angle was awkward, seeing as you were bent over in a moving carriage, but your balance was more than you gave it credit for. "Why- please!" he gasped for air, his glasses low on his nose, threatening to fall to the floor. "Stop! I have...money! Take anything you want. H-Horace!"

"Shut up!" Unintentionally, your grip tightened as you shoved his head back into the wall again, causing Keating's extinguished cigar to fall on the cushioned seat next to him. His hands flailed in panic as his chest tensed with effort as he tried to yell out to Horace again. "Maggie Calvert," you snarled as your petticoats moved with your short steps closer. Your nose could have touched his while you held his sightline. You adjusted your hold on the wooden handle of your dagger in your dominant hand before impelling the blade between his fourth and fifth ribs and close to his midline. "This is for her."

His body froze, his mouth agape. You couldn't tell if he recognized the name, but you wanted him to. A greedy businessman of his caliber deserved to think about someone other than himself during his last few moments alive. You pushed your dagger until both quillions were making contact with his white shirt. You have the dagger a small jerk for maximum damage before pulling it out, allowing blood to immediately gush out of his wound. Finally, your heart rate was beginning to slow with the rush of merely completing the task and you let go of his neck, your fingers aching from being tense. Keating was choking as he tried to yell or scream, or perhaps curse you, but the blood that was rushing into his collapsing lung was going to keep him from doing so.

"Maggie Calvert," you repeated solemnly, using Keating's long coat to clean off your dagger and tuck it into your pocket bag, one of the two large pouches that were nestled between your skirts. The body was limp and the strangled hacking had finally come to a stop. After all, the blood had stained your stomacher as it had come up through his mouth during his final moments of struggle. However, the compensation you were about to receive for this task would more than cover it. Unfortunately, it left Horace with more than a mess to clean up. Blood was a stubborn substance.

. . .

DECEMBER 20TH 1891

BIRMINGHAM, ENGLAND

Before you could knock, the door of the brick building flew open, causing you to jump in surprise.

"Miss Y/l/n," Eric Calvert's muddy green eyes were glassy with unshed tears as you pushed the hood of your cloak off of your neck out of respect for the modest home. The housing in Birmingham, an industrial town, was much different than London's. It was more compact, the air was more polluted with factory smoke. The Calverts seemed to be better off than most common families, but that meant nothing in this case. Factory conditions were poor, even after the reform laws from the 1830s. You were blessed to be introduced to more lucrative work upon your arrival- drawing money straight out of pockets with the most genuine man to have strolled down the cemented walkways of the city. "Please, come right in," he gestured with his gloved hand, moving out of your way as he removed his hat and bowed.

"Mr. Calvert," you offered a tight-lipped smile at the bowing man. In the hand that pressed against his chest, Eric pressed his grey hat into it, like a proper gentleman. The gesture had only fed into your discontentment, while Eric seemed no better off. You weren't blind to the pallid shade of his face, the withheld energy in his stance. "You mustn't bow to me," you assert, waiting for the man to right himself as he frowned.

"Oh, please... Mr. Calvert's my father." Eric said with a miffed shake of his head, raking his fingers through his sloppy waves of hair. The two of you walked down the short hall that led into a big foyer. A fireplace was on the far side with several articles of outerwear hanging on the mantle to help warm them from snow, you presume. The scent of the burning wood brings you a foreign nostalgia that ideally, you would've failed to notice. The past deserved to stay where it belonged- in the past. The only hearth you were to be a part of was your own.

"Evelyn, dear! Draw some tea, she's come back!" Eric called his wife, who seemed busy in the kitchen that was located in an attached room. "Hurry!" You presumed that he felt apprehensive about being left alone with you, which was fair.

"Just a minute!" Evelyn called from the attaching room, the door left ajar. You were right to assume that it was a kitchen of some form, seeing as the general layout of this building resembled that of your own home, the fuss of her brown petticoats catching your eye. You wished she'd move with more urgency. You had yet to eat properly, seeing as you were more occupied with moving efficiently over the past day or two. At least the vicinity was warm, allowing you to pull off your thick gloves and tuck them into either pocket bag as Eric led you to a small area near the fireplace. There were two big loveseats across from each other and with a rug in between. The cushions were patched together with random sheets of fabric.

There was a single photograph in a hanging frame over the fireplace's mantle, the glass dirty. It was Eric and Evelyn, jubilant in light, fancy clothing as they cradled their baby girl between them. You understood how the couple found themselves in such desperation to acquaint themselves with someone like you when they had once smiled without any semblance of malignity. She was stolen from them, and it had seemed that the world was prepared to let the men at fault see their own children grow up. You were the one to right that wrong- by driving your knife between the ribs of Felix Keating and watching him choke as blood filled his lungs. His eyes tearing as he begged for mercy when Maggie Calvert, who was no more than nine, died in his workhouse because of his cheaply built machinery. She wasn't given a chance, so who was Keating to think he deserved one?

"She'll be uh...right out," Eric smiled at you again, repeating the words of his wife, those of which you had no problem hearing. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the uncomfortable way he held himself, as opposed to the haughty attitude he sported during your first meeting. He was dubious that a mere lady like yourself (months shy of twenty) could hurt a fly, much less hold a body count to her name. Yet the morning prior, the bustling headlines of The Daily Telegraph reached Birmingham, selling quickly as they covered the murder of Felix Keating, owner of many iron manufacturing factories who narrowly escaped an immense prison sentence for a major accident in his Birmingham factory a week before.

"Oh my, Eric," Evelyn entered the main room, precariously balancing a steaming teapot and a modest spread of small bites on a tarnished, silver tray. "Where have your manners gone?" she tutted, setting it down on the oakwood table before turning her attention to you. Her blonde hair was tied in a disheveled bun, droopy and with tendrils falling out of it like spider legs that swayed as she moved.

"My manners?" Eric began to protest, only to be interrupted by his wife again. You found their dynamic as a couple quite refreshing. After all, you would not have been there, had Evelyn worked to contact you without her husband's knowledge.

"Miss Y/l/n, allow me to take your cloak," Evelyn gestured to the many hooks that were nailed into the fireplace mantle where there were drying articles of clothing hanging, narrowly dodging the short flames.

It was difficult to compel yourself to smile, but the corners of your lips turned upwards anyhow. There was a line where social niceties ended and another where gullible kindness started. This was the latter as they knowingly welcomed you, a murderer into their home because you made an ally out of yourself. "Don't trouble yourself any more than you have, Mrs. Calvert. My time here is brief," you found satisfaction when she shook her head and began to pour you a cup of the steaming tea, despite your words. Thankfully, she made no attempt to sit with you.

"Brief?" Evelyn repeated, gently passing the delicate teacup to you. The warmth spread over your palms on contact as you brought the rim to your lips. Your hold was improper, though necessary, seeing as the finest details are what make the best disguises. Only the wealthy held their teacups with so much consideration. Besides, the warmth was much more satisfying when it went beyond the tips of your fingers. "I reckon a woman such as yourself is a tad busy," she concurred, causing you to tense in surprise. You were rarely referred to as a woman.

"Quite," you mused after her, taking a contemplative sip of your tea. "I ought to be at the station in less than an hour," you lied, gently tapping the tips of your short nails on the warm cup. All that was necessary was payment and crucial parting words. The assorted bites on the tray were beginning to seem unappealing, the longer you stood there. "But we must discuss a few things-" you start, only to be interrupted by Evelyn, which was common.

"Your fee. We have the first installment," she gestured to Eric with her chin, her smile long gone as he offered a small pouch made of different, threadbare, fabrics. While you had already discounted your normal charge for the couple's situation, they could hardly afford a fraction of the sum.

"We've tried to save as much as possible. Take it. It's the least we can do at the time," Eric spoke, linking his arm with his wife's. Reluctantly, you hold your cup in one hand and deftly slide the pouch into the pocket bag between your petticoats. They would have felt worse if you refused to take their money. After all, you avenged the silenced death of their girl.

"It's plenty, thank you," after finishing the rest of your tea, you proceed with your original thought before they could try to pass their relief for protest. You had to recite the practiced discourse that you gave to every one of your patrons before making your leave. "Now, the two of you will be suspects to the Yard, be cautious," you put emphasis on your words by meeting each of their gazes. "You must avoid London and keep your heads down. Do you understand?"

"And... what happens to you?" Eric asked, sipping out of his own teacup. His shoulders were still unnaturally squared and attentive as he actively avoided your sightline. "Where are you off to?" his focus quickly turned to Evelyn, who was untangling her arm from his and bringing the tray back into the kitchen.

"The distance from Birmingham to London is great, she'll starve before she returns!" Evelyn stopped to yell from over her shoulder before leaving the door open behind her. In the kitchen, she promptly began to wrap the biscuits in napkins.

"Nevermind me," you coaxed Eric back to the conversation by answering his question. You smiled once again as you put your cup on the table and begin to put your gloves back on their respective hands. "You need to make certain that you both have an alibi for the night of December 17th, I cannot stress this enough, Mr. Calvert," you looked up from your gloves, pulling them so they covered your forearms again.

"I assure you, Miss Y/l/n. We were both working in that refinery- until dawn," you had no doubt about the truth to that statement, though any Peeler would press further. That part was to the Calverts to handle, seeing as you had played out your role. Pursing your lips, you took a generous inhale to soothe the ominous pit of anxiety that had settled in your stomach.

"Sure," you pulled your hood back over your head as Evelyn returned with a minute basket. It was covered and you wished you still had your appetite from when you had entered their home.

"Here you are," Evelyn allowed you to take the handle in your non-dominant hand. In a city, it was always smartest to have your dominant hand free, which was yet another insignificant habit that you had inherited from the old conman. What was the date? December 20th, which meant there were still a few weeks before it was the anniversary of his death. Otherwise, the most difficult twenty-four hours to bear out of a calendar year.

Evelyn was smiling, but it didn't reach her eyes. After all, for most women, motherhood was a privilege and it had been torn away from her. She was attempting to care for you as she would have for Maggie...had she lived to nineteen. Tears were welling in her eyes as she watched your hand extend to briefly touch her shoulder. "Take care," you said, finally meeting Eric's green hues that were tearing up as well. "I can show myself out," you shook your head dismissively when he moved to go to the front door with you. Evelyn needed to be coddled more than you did.

. . .

JANUARY 5TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

Evenings at home always unsettled you, being the start of an all-too boring night, which made you feel restless- itchy for action. Rather, your quiet home always put you on the height of your guard, even as you were sitting behind the short shed, submerging your assorted gowns and petticoats into the warm, soapy water that bubbled in your wooden tub. It was a tedious, once a week process that perhaps irked you more than cooking. With a huff, you directed your stress into the iron grip that you kept your washboard upright with, rubbing fabric over its ridges.

The water made your fingers prune and the stool under you caused your bottom to grow sore, the longer you had to sit there, toiling away until each article was hanging on your makeshift clothesline- fastened with pins. When you were a girl, you had about twice the amount to wash and yet, you enjoyed the task because there were two more hands to make light, fun work of it. The conman liked to sing to pass the time- the lyrics had taken you ages to comprehend, seeing as your English had challenged for years. He was anything but a schoolteacher.

You cringed as your hand slid down the washboard too quickly, causing the hot water to splash back up at your face. The weather was foul, the winter in London was always tempestuous and the warm water on your face had only reminded you of how little warmth your wool scarf provided. It was wrought with holes by now, but you couldn't bring yourself to give it away, you've had it from the day you arrived...nine years ago. Dismissing the thought, you allowed the cooling water to run down your forehead, passing the slope of your nose, until it finally fell and assimilated with the top of your stomacher.

You squeezed the wet petticoat, turning it in order to ring the water out. Although you could have been more thorough, the boredom that came with domestic chores was causing you to rush and find something more occupying to start. The tranquility of the night was eerie, an uneasy contrast to the violent life you led.

The sound of approaching voices caused you to pause, your hands pulling the washboard out of the water to hold, ready to swing. The petticoat that you had been wringing out fell back into the wooden tub with a quiet splash. The soap suds ran down your forearms, dampening the brown sleeves of your gown.

"No entiendo por qué la señora quiere una chica. Podríamos bombardear el sitio de Phantomhive más rápido que esta pérdida de tiempo," the voice of a woman spoke quickly, in a language that you couldn't identify. A denomination of Latin? Knitting your eyebrows, you conceded, deciding to focus on what you could understand. Bombard, Phantomhive. Bomb?

Vaguely, you recognized the name 'Phantomhive' from the newspaper. The Earl Phantomhive ran the Funtom Company, children's' toys and confectionery.

"Quiere su nombre lo más lejos posible de esto. La chica es una asesina exitosa, así que sería más discreta que los explosivos," a masculine voice responded, a stiff twig cracking beneath one of their shoes. You scowled as you shifted your weight from your left side to your right. The washboard was a viable weapon, but it was simply a matter of timing. Their silhouettes were getting closer, each short and clad in neutral earth tones.

"A menos que te interese en enredarte con ese mocoso," the man chuckled. He wasn't secretive or trying to be discreet. By the way he trudged, he was probably leaving deep tracks in the slushy excuse for snow.

"No tengo un deseo de muerte, a diferencia de ti. Callado!!" The woman said, her voice suddenly at a harsh whisper.

"Ah. There," the man spoke in English, finally a language that you could comprehend. "Y/n Y/l/n?" He asked, pulling down his scarf to expose the rest of his face. In comparison to yours, his accent was much thicker. Your grip on the washboard didn't waver.

"Who are you?" You demanded, stepping forward to stand your ground as they approached you. The pair wasn't visibly armed, their figures weren't particularly threatening to you. The man merely smiled at you while the woman to his side scowled.

"Diego- and uh, Carmen. Peace! We come in...uh, peace," Diego stammered, stopping at a respectful distance from you while showing you his empty hands as they beckoned with his rapid words. He seemed amused with your choice in weapon and assertive stance. "Carmen," he elbowed the sour-faced woman, causing her to grunt and hold her gloved hands up as he was.

"What brings you here?" They must have knocked at your door and came around when there was no response and a dim light behind the shack. Their winter gear suggested that they had some tier of wealth or deft hands in thievery. If it was business, this wouldn't be the first time you were asked to aid in stealing. However, as tempting as the offers were, you turned each one down. 

"Business." Carmen answered this time, her hand slowly reaching into her jacket pocket. "No fret. Is just a letter," her English was just as mediocre as yours had been, years ago. Your eyes followed her hand as she pulled out an envelope with a dark red seal. "Business for our...líder?" She explained and looked at the man, leaving a long pause before her last word. It was essentially 'leader', but the stress was on an 'i' sound instead.

"Yes. Leader," Diego cleared his throat in a weak attempt to mask a laugh as you dropped your washboard back into the washbasin with a short splash. You ignored him as you took the letter from the woman, your wet hand causing the ink on the front to smear. It read your name, Y/n Y/l/n, in a pompous script, the illegible type that royalty and aristocrats penned. "All you needa know is there."

The Undertaker was supposed to be the partition between yourself and clients. Who did he think he was to give these servants your address? You'd have to give him a stern reminder for the next time you cross paths. With a frown, you pushed the envelope into your pocket bag, allowing it to jut out due to its dimensions.

"Is this all?" You asked as you waited for them to either leave or proceed with more broken commentary. Your lips were pressed together in a tight purse, a fresh lump of apprehension growing in your stomach. However, you couldn't let it show as the man sheepishly removed his hat with a shallow bow. It was more unctuous than anything as it only caused your scowl to deepen.

"Yes, Miss. We can... be going now," Diego righted himself and put his hat back over his dark curly hair. You didn't offer either of than a proper dismissal for the favor of going back to your washing and ruminating over the letter. It merely had a location, date, and time with no further information. No explanation of identification. You could appreciate the impudent nature of it, as this 'leader' assumed you had no plans for January 10th or presumed that you would handle any conflicts yourself when they were approaching you for your services. It was crude of them to assume that you still took orders.

. . .

JANUARY 10TH, 1892

READING, ENGLAND

Perhaps it was curiosity or a lapse of judgment that led you to board a train and throw caution to the wind. Whatever it was, your default prudence seemed to abandon you at each instance you dared open the letter that you were given- if you could call it that. The paper inside merely had your name, a distinct address, time, and date all in a presumptuous formality that made you want to tear it to shreds. But you refrained and instead, rolled your shoulders back and down as you knocked on the painted door of the lofty residential home that coincided with the address in the letter. The walls were constructed with sturdy brick and there was smoke wafting out of the chimney. As you predicted, the entirety of the property before you suggested wealth, just as the note and the delivery had.

You knocked on the door, the letter in your hand as you waited several long, cold moments before a woman greeted you. Most of her features matched Carmen's, deep olive skin and brown hair that was tied back. "You are late," she spoke, disdain clear in her voice as she ushered you through the open door and into a foyer. You were only late by a few minutes, according to the clock on a passing wall. "My mistress is impatient," the woman added as an afterthought as if that fact was supposed to faze you into an apology. Her accent was quite notable, pronounced, and sharp like the other servants.

As she led you to a winding staircase as your gaze trained on each room that you passed. They were each decorated in a modest fashion and the colors were left to a simple tan palette. It was more simple than you would have expected from the manor's proud exterior. The woman cleared her throat, "Doña, she has arrived," she knocked twice on the closed door before opening it, revealing another woman. She stood behind a mahogany desk, watching you with relaxed shoulders. The bay window behind her illuminated the silk of her beige dress, contrasting her tan skin as it hugged her slender figure. Beige was uncommon at the time, given the dullness of it, although this woman wore it like a badge, using the simple color to allow other parts of her appearance to stand out.

"Leave us, Andrea," the woman's gaze had yet to leave yours, causing you to look away in mild discomfort. Once the door was closed again, she extended her hand to you, speaking again as you cautiously shook it. Her grip was confident and warm against your bare palm. "It is my pleasure, Princess Helena. I feared you would disregard dear Carmen and Diego." You retracted your hand, the name causing you to meet her eyes again.

"Y/n," You corrected, your mouth running dry as you calculated each of your words, down to the syllable. This foreign woman was able to unravel each of your lies within the latest nine years and frankly, it took every bit of your skill to remain composed. The conman would assess the person standing in front of him and decide if they were entitled to the truth that they were trying to extract. He would run through each advantage and disadvantage and return to the same conclusion- murder was always an option. After all, it was the only sure way of containing sensitive information. "Y/n Y/l/n," you repeated, causing the woman to laugh, her rounded cheeks eclipsing her eyes.

"We may both employ our pseudonyms, then. Address me as Doña," she sat in the red, cushioned chair behind her. Doña raised her eyebrows at you expectantly as she motioned towards the decidedly less opulent wooden chair across from her. You complied, frowning at her as she leaned towards you. Her smile only seemed to expand. "I have a task for you, Y/n. Only you can complete it for me."

"I know there are other services in London you might have requested," you contradicted, sitting back in the uncomfortable chair as you showed no qualms in testing her.

"No," Doña said with a simple shrug of her slender shoulders, "I need you to eliminate the Earl Phantomhive- the Queen's Guard Dog who puts an end to anyone she names. The graveyard to his name exceeds even yours. Although... it seems to be watered with the blood of the innocent, instead," her smile finally melted, causing her red lips to lay in a natural frown. In the streets of London, her lip color was enough to impose any of the filthiest assumptions about her.

"How does this concern me, specifically?" You asked. As your interest piqued, your eyebrows furrowed and you found yourself leaning towards the edge of the desk, rather than sitting slack against the wooden chair. The notion of the proprietor of a children's company having blood on his noble hands was more endearing than anything, especially to someone such as yourself, living substantial evidence that no one was who they appeared to be.

Your eyes followed Doña's hand as she opened a drawer in the desk, pulling out a pristine, folded newspaper. The masthead read 'DIE SUEDLlCHE POST' (THE SOUTHERN POST), a German newspaper with the headline of 'PRINZESSIN MARIE-LOUISE GIBT IHRE VERLOBUNG MIT PRINZ ARIBERT VON ANHALT BEKANNT' (PRINCESS MARIE-LOUISE ANNOUNCES ENGAGEMENT TO PRINCE ARIBERT OF ANHALT). There was a picture within the columns of words of your twin sister as she sported a gaudy dress and faux-smile as she beckoned the public into her personal life. Seeing Marie's matured face resemble yours so flawlessly was disarming and you only remembered to release a breath you had been holding when Doña spoke again. "The Queen trusts the Earl implicitly- enough to put the safety of her granddaughter in his...capable hands. At any mere threat, the Princess will come overseas to stay under his protection," she paused, smiling again as she unfurled the groundwork of a meticulous plan. "The monarchy is quite predictable, no?"

You had to give her credit for her unwavering confidence. The idea that she implied was beyond mad and yet, she sold it well. "We intercept her transportation before she reaches the port," Doña raised her chin as she explained, her expression smug to challenge you. Someone had trained her to manipulate others, just as the conman had done for you. She was reflecting your body language, while keeping her own polished mannerisms as a subtle attempt to establish trust, but express her own certitude.

"And you intend for me to take her place," you finished mapping out her plan for her, almost speaking in disbelief. Reclaiming your past? Your sister represented the whole of what you had resented in Germany; the wealth, the social faux pas, down to each ruffle of every gown. "Kill the Earl within his own estate," you bit the inside of your bottom lip, keeping yourself in the present.

The door opened behind you, the startling sound of a crying baby caused you to jump and turn your head to the source. A frazzled Andrea, the servant who greeted you, held a crying infant in her arms as it squirmed. "Doña, su hija te necesita ahora," she said, offending you as again as the two individuals conversed in a foreign tongue, ignoring your confusion.

At the sight of the distressed child, Doña's expression curled such as milk did. Her nose wrinkled, her eyes staring at it in disdain. Her glowered response came quickly as she gestured with her hands, "debes llevártela. Andrea, deberías saber mejor que interponerme cuando estoy ocupado con los negocios."

Immediately, and to your relief, Andrea left the office with a mumbled curse that you couldn't decipher. The baby was still crying. "You never learned Spanish?" Doña mused, her hands slowly returning to the wooden surface that separated herself and you. At least you had been correct in assuming it was from a Latin dialect. "That was my daughter," she explained with a careless shrug, causing you to frown. Your mother always spoke of you with the same amount of indifference, if not more than what this woman expressed, calling her daughter a 'that'. Bearing witness to that treatment left you vulnerable to frustration, an emotion that distracted you from the clear thinking you were trained to maintain.

"Earl Phantomhive," you said, bringing her back on topic before she could fiddle with your strained heartstrings any more. "It's a personal vendetta, is it not?"

"Ah. Correct," her face grew serious again as she brought her heavy stare back to yours. For a moment, you looked down at the newspaper- at your beaming sister and her Prince. "The Earl killed my husband after my whole family," Doña said as she shifted in her seat. Her eyes pried into your soul as if she was weighing each of your sins and virtue against each other in that moment. "I cannot rest until he feels the same anguish. What do you say?" She asked, raising her thin eyebrows, leaning forward in her seat.

For the first time that afternoon, you understood the woman sitting before you. You understood the lingering pain behind every smile, the loneliness behind her confident handshake. For that, you didn't need her to prove that the Earl was deserving of just intervention when normally, you required a means that ensured you that you weren't being sent to murder an innocent. The Calverts allowed you to read the court records of Keating's failed prosecution. But in this case, you recognized the raw emotion in her face. You saw it weekly in your employers and it used to stare back at you in the mirror...before you grew.

"Fine," your shoulders relaxed as you shifted in on the wooden chair, tempted to retreat, the more she invaded your space.

"We will begin our preparations immediately, then. We may discuss the finer details over tea."

. . .

JANUARY 17TH, 1892

READING, ENGLAND

"Diego and Carmen have returned," Doña entered your room without the formality of knocking, even though Andrea was in the middle of preparing you for your arrival to the Phantomhive Manor while you were attempting to keep yourself present. You gave your toes a discrete wiggle while they were crushed in tall heels. At least the slight pain was grounding. "Your personal effects will be included with ours," she added as a suggestion for you to respond. Over the week you had spent in her presence, you learned that talking to her was an exhaustive endeavor when most of the time, all you needed to do was listen. Meanwhile, Andrea was finishing your complicated hairstyle behind you. She tied strands of your hair into braids that led into a single low ponytail behind your head. Frankly, the steps she took had you standing there for ages, but you didn't protest, as opposed to the riot you always threw in Germany.

"At last," you stared at your reflection in the mirror before you, willfully ignoring the addition of her behind you. It was almost difficult to recognize yourself, considering you were staring at the visage of your sister, Marie as you dawned a sky blue gown that was embroidered with white designs around the bodice and top petticoat. The neckline had simple ruffles that covered the top of your stomacher, alternating with lace. Your skin was smooth to touch, almost delicate with the amount of cold cream that Andrea had insisted on smothering over every inch of you each morning and night. Even the apples of your cheeks were lightened with a gentle hand of pink rouge. "Putting that off to the last day was careless."

"At least our princess needs not to remember her privilege," Doña smarted, her red lips pursing in a sardonic grin. "Only her grace."

"And what of the princess?" You asked, turning away from yourself to give the packed trunks in your room a quick once over. They were each packed with fine clothing and luxury products that Doña had procured over the week, whilst important belongings of your own had just arrived, according to the woman herself. The conman's watch stayed with you for each task, whether you wore it, forced it into your pocket bag, or wrapped around a garter.

"Her steamship was supposed to dock about an hour ago. It should be in the process of sinking in the North Sea." The words had no effect on you, other than perhaps, relief. While Marie was your sister, you grew up in her looming shadow, her constant jibes, and haughty smiles. Her death secured your role in perhaps, one of the most complicated schemes you have ever dared take part in and did well to rid the world of another self-absorbed leech. Doña's hand gave your shoulder a patronizing pat as she smiled, "peace, Y/n. Your face is too young for frown lines. Remember, princesses haven't a care."

"You would know?" you asked, pressing your lips together and gathering your breath in a shallow inhale. The statement affected you more than it should have, but you blamed the superior tone that Doña attempted to pull over you. Although there were many years separating the two of you, it gave her no right to treat you as a child. You believed that Evelyn Calvert said it best- you were a woman, a lady that deserved every brutal sentiment that the world had to offer. "I believe the monarchy in Spain ended years ago."

"Someone did their reading."

"Enough," you glared, "I believe it would be best to allow Andrea to finish here. Before I stain this gown with your-" Andrea gave your hair a slight tug to tighten the hold before she gave you a quick once over. She seemed proud of her work- turning a runaway back into a princess. Quickly she patted a bit of power over the exposed junction between your neck and shoulders, adding some to your throat. Rather than making you appear paler, it was mostly translucent and served as a more natural aromatic while hiding blemishes. Andrea then left and quickly returned with a white coat that ran down to your mid-thigh. Deftly, she buttoned down the middle of it, closing both sides with little effort, seeing as it was made to be snug over all of your tight layers.

"-No, I believe that is quite enough, Y/n. Don't forget- we are allies, love." Doña reminded you with a smile. "In fact, I retrieved something else of yours to prove it," her hand disappeared into the deliberate fold of her pocket bag, revealing a small box. It was a black velvet that was soft in your hand. "Go on, she prompted, nodding at the box with her chin, "open." Slowly, you opened the box as it revealed a breathtaking emerald ring. The band's soft rose gold shone in the sunlight that came through the windows as small diamonds lined its circumference and outlined the expensive gem itself.

It couldn't be-

Your breath hitched as you took the ring out, putting the box on the vanity to your side as you looked at the interior of the band, your eyes wide as the engraving read 'Prinzessin Helena Victoria, 5/3' (Princess). It was your family ring, the exact one that you had given to a young boy because he was too poor to buy himself a proper jacket. All he wanted were a few coins for you to buy his newspaper, but you had no currency at the time. Instead, you gave him the ring and changed his life, rather than allowing the damned thing to burden you any more than it already had.

"That ring has seen...nearly all of Europe before returning to you," Doña said as she watched you slide the ring back over your satin glove. It fit your ring finger perfectly. Marie was made a completely identical ring, emerald, rose gold, and diamonds. You shared the same birthdate with her, being twins. "It would have been wiser to procure hers, but we must make do. You may never take it off." She was right. Though the ring was in fact, a smart decision to make your appearance more legitimate, the engraving could just as easily be the end of you.

"I understand." You confirmed, with a generous inhale. You felt your chest expand against the confining corset you wore.

"Andrea, ¿está lista ahora?" (Andrea, is she ready now?) Doña asked the servant, who was cradling her daughter, a chubby infant in her skinny arms, seeing as she finished tending to you. Andrea was not given enough credit, seeing as she took care of you, the baby, and everyone else within the household. She seemed to be around the age of Doña herself, perhaps younger, though missing a ring on her own finger. You owed her more respect than Doña, seeing as she took the time to teach you bits of conversational Spanish. Sitting in that house for a week while most individuals spoke in their native tongue was frustrating to you, and she cared enough to alleviate some of that pressure.

"Yes. You all should be going. Marie would have been near to our destination." Andrea said, before leaving your room to presumably, get Diego and Carmen to load the carriage with the aforementioned trunks. She left you and Doña alone, in temporary silence.

"Diego and Carmen are escorting you," she spoke, ushering you to leave the room behind her and start to the carriage that waited in front of the brick manor. "They are dock workers to you since the Queen called for finesse; minimum security." Marie's steamship was private- it made sense that she'd only have a few individuals as personnel. Although, they were likely dead at the bottom of the sea with the intended princess. "I will be in contact," her eyes, once again, stared into you, but you refused to falter. At a time like this, it was important to appear confident, even when there was residual panic racing through you.

"I won't be long," you replied, quite sardonically. The Earl Phantomhive was just a boy, about two years younger than you. He had a butler and four servants and an opulent estate that gave you plenty of opportunities, space, and minimal witnesses. You have surmised much harder conditions in the past, considering you've posed as a maid and drowned a woman in her own bathtub since she kidnapped and sold little girls to the highest bidder. That case had reached a particular soft spot within you, although it made you sensitive to the scent of rose water.

For a moment, you were back in that bathroom. The steam of the heated water hit your face in droplets as the curvaceous woman thrashed, her knees peeking out of the water, kicking. She was screaming, but it was garbled by the water as she choked on it. You had to use both of your soapy hands to press her forehead against the porcelain tub and apply moderate pressure around her trachea before she went limp...

"I'm sure," Doña rolled her eyes as she opened the carriage door for you. Diego and Carmen came out the front door with the small trunks in their arms. Carmen's tan features were still warped in her perpetual scowl, but Diego beamed at you, his eyelashes fluttering. You squeezed your eyes closed before opening them again, repeating the process multiple times while wrinkling your nose. It was, naturally, still cold and unlike the staff, you were only given a coat and gloves to stay warm. How Doña stood her ground without sleeves in this weather was lost to you.

"Andrea, fixed you up real good, Your Highness," Diego said, leaving Carmen to finish packing the carriage as he approached you. He bowed at his waist, over-exaggerating the movement. You had come to the conclusion that he was an excitable puppy dog, personified in a man. It was hard to imagine a man like that had the nerve to use the handgun in his holster. You frowned, the sight of firearms never failing to unsettle you, despite your line of work.

Trap the gun.

You urged yourself to focus on the people in front of you and the task that was rapidly coming into fruition. "You ought to ask her for a hand," you shrugged dismissively, the jab subtle as you shrugged and showed yourself through the carriage door. You sat down on the cushioned seat, closing the door and staring out the window of the carriage. Though you could have afforded a simple goodbye to the staff, your growing demand to be alone was overwhelming. Even the carriage, though it was white and an unassuming beige upholstery lined the seats, you had to force yourself to stay present.

Felix Keating.

"Y/n, we're pulling out now!" Carmen's grumpy voice announced as she knocked twice on the closed door to get your attention. She and Diego were to be driving the carriage- as Doña said, they were acting as port attendants to substitute Marie's dead servants. Your fingers wrapped around the pommel of your dagger, giving it a long squeeze.

"Fine!" You responded, watching the street from your window as it slowly passed by, paired with the trotting hooves of the horse that dragged you to your possible demise.

. . .

JANUARY 17TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

The Phantomhive manor was on the outskirts of London, shielded within the countryside by a thin forest line. As it rolled into your sightline through the small window of the carriage, you shamelessly allowed yourself to gape at the sheer size of it- the height of the walls, the militant stone masonry, and expansive stone garden that surrounded the cobblestone path. The cobblestone caused the carriage to bump clumsily and you could hear the sound of the packed trunks shifting around, even though they sat in the front with Carmen and Diego. To you, having so much space for one person was simply a waste- you made do in a shoebox that was going to be comparable to a linen closet on this property.

There was no describing the intimidating grace of the noble manor that stood proudly before you- although it was the furthest from your first complicated infiltration and as much as you tried to repress it, grew up in a castle. However, even Glücksburg was feeble in comparison to the fortress that your carriage slowed to a stop in front of. Diego wasted no time in opening the door, allowing more of the afternoon light in. You shuddered as the cold, once again, attacked your face and outer extremities, despite the petticoats that Andrea had precariously piled under your gown.

"We have made it, Your Highness," the joke was obvious in Diego's face, the apples of his cheeks too perky with his enthusiastic smile. He needed some of Carmen's restraint while the latter required at least a semblance of his warmth.

Your Highness. The form address was foreign to you. It was nothing but a burden that weighed just as much as the genuine metal around your ring finger and the tight corset that restricted your torso. But this was your role- at least for the next week or so. Your smile was small enough to not seem horribly forced, though anything but enthused. Restraint was something Governess Lydia always stressed, making it one of the single things she had in common with the conman, who never let you forget about the strength of words. This task required you to heed lessons from the both of them, which was unfortunate, considering the conman represented the best two years of your life, while Governess Lydia was the embodiment of your poisonous girlhood.

"Your prudence is more than appreciated," you accepted his hand as he helped you down the two, rather short stairs of the carriage. This was it- now you were Princess Marie of Schleswig-Holstein. Her identity belonged to you- rather than a withering corpse in the sea- however Doña had managed to get her there. For your own sake, you found it easier not to ask. You didn't need the blood of your sister on your conscience while you embodied her likeliness. Or at least...what you could recall from your spoiled bias and hourly etiquette classes in the castle. "Thank you, Diego," you let go of his hand once you stood on your own feet. You didn't need to look at him to know that he was shaking his head, discouraged that you were being kind to him simply because you had to. Prior to the carriage ride, you'd told him to see Andrea and give her a chance to improve his scraggly appearance.

"Of course," he responded with a hasty bow. Diego shut the door with a slam, clumsier than he needed to be. You pretended that all of your doubts were conveniently left sitting on a cushioned seat- as dispensable as a glove. Confidence in your own vast skill sets was going to get you through this and the blade of your dagger between the Earl's ribs. "To the door, Your Highness. You'll catch cold." Diego led you to the door, leaving Carmen to unload your baggage. The door opened immediately after he knocked, revealing a simpering man.

"Wir heißen sie herzlich willkommen, Eure Hoheit. Ich hoffe, dass Ihre reise bis zu diesem punkt angenehm war.," (Our deepest welcome, Your Highness. I do hope your journey was pleasant to this point,) he spoke, his German succinct as if he was a native speaker himself. Following his practiced welcome, he bowed, the silver accessory that was pinned on his lapel moved as he did. A gloved hand pressed politely over his heart as he righted himself at your nod. In this case, you would have preferred him to speak to you in English, seeing as the whole of the experience was already quite out of body for you. "Bitte, treten sie ein." (Please, come in).

You complied, reluctantly crossing the tall threshold. Diego was behind you and silent as you took a moment to look over the barren foyer around you. "Sie haben ein schönes anwesen. Danke, dass sie mein Refugium beherbergen - Ihre Majestät kann mehr als exzessiv sein," (You keep a lovely manor. Thank you for housing my retreat- Her Majesty can be more than excessive,) you replied, noting the butler's endearing features. His face was pale as if the moon decided to bless him with natural illumination and in contrast, his hair fell in black tresses that framed his face. His smile was too perky for his darker disposition.

"Es ist unser privileg, mit ihrer sicherheit betraut zu werden." (It is our privilege to be entrusted with your safety.) The unctuous pleasantries were in excess. A little went a long way, especially for you, who tended to be brief towards every accessory- every pawn. As a girl, that efficiency labeled you as ill-mannered, as Lydia, the uptight Governess, cautioned you.

"Gibt es einen namen für sie?" (Is there a name to call you by?) It was more appropriate for his master- the rudely absent Earl, to introduce him properly, but you were growing weary of having no name to associate with the man. You tilted your head, thinly smiling at the butler who immediately stood to attention to respond. He had more effortless poise than you did, but at its essence, it couldn't be hard. Between your intense life in the monarchy was nearly a decade of living amongst the middle class and working for anyone with the fortune to pay you.

He bowed again, the palm of his right hand returning to his heart. "Natürlich. Mein Name ist Sebastian, mein meister-" (Of course. My name is Sebastian, my master-) he was interrupted by the door opening again, proceeding with three individuals and Carmen entering the foyer, bringing the trunks that were in the carriage. There were only six boxes, but the shorter boy out of the group was holding three heavy boxes instead of one.

"Sebastian! Where should we be putting these?" A woman asked rather loudly, as opposed to the smooth dulcet of Sebastian's German. Her voice had a clear, animated quirk of an English accent and it took you a moment to return your brain to the language, seeing as focusing on one at a time rather than two at once was simpler. Then you entered her sightline, causing her to shriek in surprise as she gasped. "Princess Marie- Your Highness!" she dropped the box, sinking into a clumsy excuse for a curtsy. At your side, you could hear Diego attempting to stifle his laughter. As for yourself, you weren't one for sudden noises and had to feign understanding. By the end of the day, your cheeks were going to ache from constantly having to smile.

"Your Highness, these are the other servants of the house," Sebastian finally spoke in English as he gestured with an arm to the two men and the woman. As the three other servants put the trunks down. The woman's face was red under her disproportionate glasses as she looked from the older man to the younger one at her sides, searching for validation for her abrupt enthusiasm. "Our gardener, Finnian-"

"-Finny!" He interrupted with a bright smile, before meeting Sebastian's eyes and shrinking. Finny cleared his throat, his gloved hand rubbing under the hat that covered the nape of his neck. "Please, um...call me Finny, Your Highness." In front of him were the three trunks that he had been carrying- stacked vertically. One alone was heavy for even yourself, but he seemed unaffected.

"Right...Mey-Rin, the maid," Sebastian continued. Mey-Rin's face was still red as she looked at Sebastian and then you, uncomfortable with the attention of the room on her. "Our cook, Baldroy."

Baldory seemed to be the most composed of the three. Notably, there were strands of grey in his blond hair as he regarded you with an easy simper, his shoulders relaxed. "Good to meet ya," he said with a simple nod of his head. His voice reminded you of the conman's- perpetually at ease.

"And ...Tanaka- the executive director of the Funtom Company," Sebastian said, guiding your attention to a small man that watched you from behind Baldroy's legs. He wore a monocle and seemed to hold a cup of tea as he bowed. The executive director of the Funtom Company was a frail man?

"Oh but, that's how he is- he rarely goes into his full size," Finny chimed in, once again, cutting himself off at Sebastian's pointed gaze. He only gave you more questions than he had answered. How was such a large estate taken care of by such a small cast of individuals?

"Might I ask about the Earl himself?" You didn't feel the need to properly introduce Carmen and Diego, seeing as they were only supposed to be distant dockworkers to you. Marie wouldn't have thought twice about them, seeing as she was her own sun, moon, and savior. Instead, she would be miffed that a mere Earl had the self-importance to show tardiness in meeting her.

"Our master should be with us in a moment. Please allow me to show you to his study," Sebastian said, easily making a transition from the exhaustive introductions to sitting in. "In the meantime; you three, take Her Highness's belongings to her quarters." This time, Baldroy picked up Carmen's neglected box as she stood at Diego's side. The three of them responded enthusiastically as if they were excited to be given a laborious task from their superior.

"Sure," you agreed, more than aware that this was going to be a temporary goodbye to Diego and Carmen, the final allies you'd speak to before heading into a minefield of social complexity, corsets, and lies. You turned to Diego, almost unsure of how to let him depart. It was almost pathetic of you, growing tongue-tied from a simple goodbye. The duo had no semblance of sentimental value to you. All you had was yourself, a dagger, and a large sum of money waiting for you.

"We leave you in capable hands, Your Highness," Diego smiled as he bowed, before quickly winking at you.

"Farewell," Carmen added, her expression illegible as she too, bowed and left with her counterpart.

"Right then," Sebastian led you up the massive staircase. Each step was narrow and troublesome but you attempted to tread smoothly. "Would you care for tea? You toiled through quite a long trip..."

. . .

Tags:

[notfromanotherworld]

On Sep. 24, South Korean boy group BTS gave a speech on empowerment and love at the United Nations headquarters in New York City. The event marked the launch of “Generation Unlimited”—a partnership between the UN and UNICEF that aims to promote education and empowerment for young people. The choice of BTS, also known as the Bangtan Boys, appeared sensible. They are widely recognizable figures with a global following as well as recent winners of Golden Disk and Billboard Music Awards. They also serve as UNICEF Goodwill ambassadors. Many South Korean feminists, however, condemned the choice. To them, BTS is representative of the misogynistic music scene in their country. They contend that BTS, like many male musicians in their South Korea, objectifies and degrades women with their lyrics and comments. “They have been controversial figures for a long time, but this issue has never gotten wide public attention. I think international fans are not aware of how the group is perceived by Korean feminists,” said Uh Hye-sun, a 23-year-old South Korean student and self-identified feminist.

BTS arguably has become the most visible face of South Korea’s music industry—often called “K-pop” in English—which has achieved phenomenal growth in recent years...But the music scene has a dark side, not least its long history of exploiting musicians and culture of misogyny. Signed by major management agencies, aspiring stars can toil for years under unequal contracts that compel them to give up a bulk of their future earnings and personal freedom. And its depiction of under-aged girls—who perform under the label of “idols”—has come under fire for encouraging pedophilia...

More worryingly, the group has made certain comments that many South Korean feminists say reflect the country’s traditional expectations toward women. When asked about ideal women, J-Hope, yet another member, answered that his was someone who is good at naejo—literally “domestic support”—which refers to doing various household chores that a stay-at-home wife performs to support her husband’s career. The group’s vocalist, V, told entertainment site Star News that his ideal was “a woman who spends wisely the money I bring home.” On one of the tracks on BTS’s 2013 album “2 Cool 4 Skool,” the members discuss their childhood dreams, and Jin, the oldest of them, says, “Just like my dad, I wanted to go to work at 7 am and come home at 6 pm to eat the meal that my wife cooks for me.” Then another member chimes in and adds, “I also thought that would be the best [life]. … What is hip hop good for anyway?”

Even the group’s official twitter account (@BTS_twt) has shown indifference to women’s rights. One tweet, dated to Feb. 9, 2013, went: “Girls have got to dress cold [and show skin] both in winter and summer. That’s how men would like them.” “Are women mannequins and not human beings?” a user replied to the group’s post. “We are neither sexual objects nor born to be your eye candies.” BTS never responded. In replying to a comment from another Twitter user (@minj0213), the BTS account tweeted that she should “turn her cheek” so that they could “punch it with a fist.” Many fans defended BTS and claimed the remark was a joke, but some feminists say the group’s attitude toward women should not be overlooked in a country where domestic violence is pervasive. The Korean Institute of Criminology’s 2015 report shows that 71.7 percent of women in South Korea had experienced physical or psychological abuse from their male partners at one point in their lives.

Most importantly, the group’s lyrics seem to not only ignore gender inequality in South Korean society, but also go so far as to perpetuate and even encourage them. Several of BTS’ songs, for example, have been accused of expressing misogyny and sexism.

On July 7, 2016, BTS’ agency, Big Hit Entertainment, apologized in a statement to “everyone and many fans who felt discomfited by BTS’s lyrics and SNS contents.” But South Korean feminists like Jang Yoon-jeong expressed doubt over whether the group and its agency truly understood the perspectives and criticisms of women who felt the lyrics were misogynistic. Jang, who also happens to be a BTS fan, said that she was disappointed when BTS released its song “Not Today” just a few months after the apology, in February 2017. The song was criticized for the phrase “Just break the glass ceiling that imprisons you,” because it seemed deliberately engineered to counter the criticisms about BTS’s past stance on women without being specific on how the group had been wrong. It implied the group supported women and minorities that were wrongfully stopped from achieving the success they deserved, even as it failed to acknowledge or explain the group’s past objectification and denigration of women.

“If celebrities really want to advocate social issues, they have to proactively bring up arguments [that are central to the issues]. However, BTS tries to attract the public with abstract messages,” said Kim Sun-hee, a visiting professor of philosophy and keen K-pop observer at Ewha Woman’s University in Seoul...

The question of whether BTS is espousing misogyny led to online disputes between South Korean feminists and the fans of BTS who refer to themselves as ARMY—which stands for “Adorable Representative Master of ceremonies for Youth”—and are famous for their passionate defense of the group. On Twitter shortly after BTS spoke at the UN, some feminists pointed out the irony of BTS encouraging the youth to love themselves when the group itself has a record of sexism. Those who spoke out against the group’s controversy, however, became targets of a fierce backlash. One South Korean feminist who asked to be unnamed for this piece reached out to me privately to share her experience of being cyberbullied for publicly criticizing BTS on Twitter on the grounds that the group did nothing for the LGBTQ community in South Korea and yet used its pro-LGBTQ image as a marketing strategy to appeal to international fans... Another feminist on Twitter lamented, “The one who spoke at the UN has a reputation of acting misogynistically.” She added that “only Koreans know that the group has such reputation.”

The UN seems to have been woefully ignorant of BTS’s background before they issued the invitation for the group to speak...

Georgina Thompson, media consultant at UNICEF New York, refused to answer questions regarding the group’s previous misogynistic controversies. UNICEF Korea, which organized BTS’ appearance at the United Nations at least according to one Korean news media outlet, failed to return my multiple requests for comment over the span of a week... That comment illustrated the difference in the ways that the BTS is perceived—by its international fan base, the South Korean government and international organizations such as the UN and UNICEF on the one hand; and by South Korean feminists on the other. “Discrimination against women exists in our daily lives in Korea,” said Kim Kyung-min, a 17-year-old South Korean ARMY who, despite liking BTS, thought having the band speak was a poor choice by the UN.

- “BTS: Generational Icons or Misogynists?” by Chaewon Chung