#i only have like six icons to my name rest in peace

[h3roisms]

( mason gooding . cis man . he/him ) — blasting slow dancing in the dark by joji down main street we’ve spotted GRIFFIN HAWKHAUSER sporting their favorite pair of garnet earrings. the twenty-nine year old PHOENIX-AVIAN SHIFTER HYBRID who’s been in town for six months often can be seen checking out his own reflection in every window he passes by , schmoozing customers with a flirtatious grin and a lilting purr into buying ' just one more drink ' to max out his tips that night , casually scrolling some form of social media at all times, or working as a BARTENDER at ENVY. people say they display charismatic and deceitful traits, but we rather trust their vibes: brilliant red feathers that glitter with iridescence under the twilight sun, a camera-ready smile that masks something dark and dangerous beneath a veneer of arrogant confidence, russian roulette with a fully loaded gun, glowing amber eyes peering at you through the darkness of an abyss. also, we’ve heard they love A FRESH PACK OF NEWPORTS ! aren’t they fascinating ?

soldiers aren’t born – 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮’𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚, fashioned from 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 with 𝒃𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉.

I . 𝗗𝗢𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗘𝗥 ...

name — griffin "griff " hawkhauser ( formerly , kenneth taylor ) // age — twenty-nine // date of birth — april 20 . // astrological — taurus sun , scorpio moon , virgo rising // height — five foot ten inches // language & dialect — american english , california / west coast accent // body modications — lobe piercings on both ears , belly button piercing , multiple tattoos over chest and arms // biological parents — alexander taylor (incarcerated) & amelia aronson (alive ; no contact) // occupation — former federal special ops agent, bartender at envy // build — lean and built, visible muscle definition, even distribution with thicker shoulders and back muscles

II . 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ...

mama's boy - dominic fike // slow dancing in the dark - joji // sugar - brockhampton // icon - jaden // lose - travis scott // rip 2 my youth - the neighbourhood // brand new person , same old mistakes - tame impala

II . 𝗕𝗜𝗢 ... TRIGGER WARNING FOR : FOSTER CARE SYSTEM , SMOKING , DEATH MENTIONS , DRUG MENTIONS.

the thing they don’t tell you about foster care is that no one gives a fuck about you; they don’t care whether you can eat, shit, or piss in peace , whether you’re gonna have a clean blanket to sleep with , or if you od in a ditch like every other sad fuck that ends up in the system. you’re just another number – and the freedom you wanted so damn bad as a kid started to really kick you in the ass. the world was a cruel fuckin’ bitch – and you learned that lesson quick.

the kind were subjugated , the disadvantaged exploited further and further , and those who harbored ill will in their heart always came out the victor. you watched good people get chewed up and spat , left with nothing more than hollow convictions and a laundry list of regrets.

you kept your head down after the first three placements flopped. they called you all sorts of things ; problem child was the nicest one , but you started getting used to the other ones , too. ungrateful brat , a delinquent with no future , a bad influence on the other kids. 

you smoke a joint once and you’re suddenly the antichrist. but the motherfucker who’s tooth you knocked out deserved it. he stole your fuckin’ hoodie – you saved up for months for that damn thing.

another thing you learn is that the systems feed each other ; it was a self-cannibalizing – and it exploited you just like it did the rest. You were just another kid from the wrong side of the tracks , one who looked to the skies for relief – and you graduated high-school with big dreams and not a damn lick of the knowledge you needed to achieve ‘em. so you do the only thing you can. you work dead end jobs – one after another – and the world feels so fuckin’ bleak you sometimes wondered if it’d be easier to just become another cog in the machine.

but , hey , you never gave in that easy ; you disillusioned yourself with the drugs , the booze , the cigarettes. you looked in the mirror and the motherfucker lookin’ back at you looked more and more like a stranger every damn day. you are still good , you told yourself , you can be good.

except you’re not ; you’re rotten to the very core , just like your damn daddy. you were smoking a cigarette at 3 am after pulling your fourth graveyard shift in a row when you saw some shady shit go down. you just couldn’t keep your fuckin’ head down – fatal flaw , achilles heel , ‘cause , really , you want to be good – and you walked in on some shit you shouldn’t have. you witnessed a murder – and not just any murder , some gang-related bullshit that went right over your goddamn head.

next thing you knew , you were bargaining for your life – you live , you owe them a debt. you learned to smooth talk after years in the system. smile pretty , bat your lashes , purr just the tiniest bit … be the pretty boy with the nice smile and they’ll turn a blind eye … they always do. and it somehow fuckin’ worked – ‘cause you’re a damn miracle worker – but they give you a catch : you’re the newest bitch to the underground crime circle and you’re gonna kill some people.

the stint didn’t last long , thank christ ; the feds busted ‘em and you panicked that you were facing jailtime – except lady luck decided to kiss your ass some more. they say they could use someone with the quick thinking and reflexes you showed the night of the raid. ( you were trying to save your own skin so you defected – told the boots where to go and where to find the big boss ) and they gave you a job.

next thing you knew , you signed your life over to become a weapon.

—

they broke you. 

piece by piece , atom by atom – they tore you apart and built their perfect toy soldier from what little remained of your sorry sack of bones. 

they stripped you of your name – kenneth taylor was dead. the identity of griffin hawkhauser was created from thin air and bestowed upon you like a gift even though it would soon become a curse , your personal cross to bear.

they sent you into missions that only the most deranged of adrenaline junkies would ever dare to take on – and you seemed to fit that bill. your life , thus far , had been one fuck-up after the next. now , at least , you lived life on the edge. you let yourself fight the good fight. you stormed buildings with blazing guns , gone undercover , jet-setred around the world to work alongside foreign dignitaries with wire taps and spy gear out the wazoo. you felt like you were finally becoming something – and with it came a false sense of bravado.

an invincible man is what you became ; the high of griffin hawkhauser brought with it a nurtured ego , a curated sense of grandeur that allowed your sly smiles to ooze with sex appeal and confidence despite the twisting maelstrom of chaos that dwelled just beneath the surface. you worked people like tools with a smile on your face – because you , too , were nothing but a tool to the government. you became their weapon – and weapons didn’t weep.

you saw more money than you could have ever imagined ; a ludicrous amount of zeroes inflated your head , made you see stars and revel in the luxury for the first time in your sad , pathetic life. your disillusionment only festered and soon , you grew reckless. they took hold and planted their seeds – and soon , as the roots took deep within , you succumbed to the machine you’ve been fighting with for all these years.

the first time you died , you made peace with it ; you already knew that the bird that soared in your heart wouldn’t be able to save you as you laid in a pool of your own blood , every wheezing breath full of agony. your lungs were punctured and you had more bullet-holes than brains left. you thought to yourself – well , it was a good run , but i guess it’s time to finally say goodbye.

and then the world was on fire.

you were reborn in your own ashes and the hawk within you screeched to life. the government learned two things that night : one , you were not a human being , but something far more mystifying , and two , you were unkillable.

oh , how joyous a night it was for them – and the marker of your second death , and then your third , fourth , fifth … you stopped counting after death two-hundred and forty-eight. they learned you were unkillable and sent you on one suicide mission after the other , knowing you were indispensable. 

you were bleeding out for the five hundred and twenty-first time when you thought to yourself – damn , you’re back in that fucking cage again.

—

you ran away again.

this time , you were going to be free.

you fuckin’ meant it this time.

—

portum opened its arms to you and you found yourself trembling. a world in which you were not a weapon nor a cog in the goddamn machine had felt like a pipe dream after all the years – but now , it felt like a reality.

you dug through your mind and pulled out the part of you that you had relied on so heavily to get you through it all. you wore your cunning smile and erased the past from existence. here , you are griffin hawkhauser , a man that bartends by night and soars the skied by day. here , you will be free – and no one , not a damn thing , will tether you again. you wear your false bravado and sink deep into its familiar embrace.

soon , you hope , you’ll begin to feel the confidence in earnest. soon , you will become the man you should have always been. 

[bronte-deserves-better]

Your ocs sound so cool, do you mind sharing stuff about them?

Anon, it is to my great shame that I have left this so long that I no longer remember what ocs this ask was in reference to.

However, I do still absolutely want to talk about my ocs, so have a ramble about two of my current favorite! (Rest under the cut- this got long).

#1 OC of all time: Alera Pyren!

So everyone is aware that I'm not normal about Fintan and Bronte, especially in the context of the Pyren brothers AU, right? Well anyways, I have in fact made an entire family tree for the two of them. Alera Pyren is their great-aunt (sibling to their grandfather). She's a pyrokinetic, and in one of my headcanons she is one of the original three Councillors.

Reasons to love Alera:

Trauma. So much trauma. She watched her mom die in childbirth and then her stepdad die from an ogre attack.

Ultimate eldest daughter syndrome. Not only is she the eldest of six, she also had to raise all five of her siblings after the death of their parents.

Heir To A Legacy She Didn't Ask For. Her father was a famous warrior among her group of elves in the pre-Council days, and since Alera was his eldest child and had his ability, she was expected to follow in his footsteps. He died when she was five, by the way.

Badass warrior lady. She has a flaming sword and served as the general of the original Council. Though elves generally don't do well with violence, in my headcanon history, there was in fact an era where violence was significantly more common, and Alera essentially got the elves through it on the power of sheer rage and being a very powerful pyrokinetic.

Queer icon. She is beautiful, she is powerful, she is gay as hell. Lesbians love her. Although homosexuality is highly discouraged among the elves, Alera had such powerful gay energy and refused so ardently to be in the closet that even in the modern Lost Cities, 'much like Alera' is a polite way to call someone a lesbian. Pyrokinesis is heavily associated with queerness in the Lost Cities in my headcanon, largely because of Alera.

Warrior in a peaceful world. Alera fought for centuries to win the peace treaties between species- some of which hold up to this day. After she was done building a less war-torn world, what did she do? Sulk because she wasn't needed anymore? Nope! She went and decided to become a genetics researcher.

Anyways, I love Alera. Is she incredibly morally questionable? Did she kill many people in the name of peace? Yes. However, she's still absolutely fascinating. People think Alera is cold-hearted because she would chose the safety of the world over any individual person. What they don't get is that Alera loves all her friends and family ardently. She just has so much care for the world that she could not give it up no matter the cost.

#2 OC of all time: Mellona Errie!

He's an orphan! He's Alera's best friend! He's desperately loyal even though he knows Alera would choose the world over him if it came down to it! He's... Mellona Errie!

Mellona is quite literally the water to Alera's fire- he's a hydrokinetic, and he is the chill, calm best friend to fiery Alera. He was an orphan bastard who had no household to belong to back in the day, and Alera took him under her wing even though she was also trying to care for five siblings.

Reasons to love Mellona:

Also trauma. He had an incredibly fucked up childhood.

Somehow the nicest guy ever despite that. Despite everything that happened to him, Mellona is still chill and lovely and tries hard to be a kind person.

Deep loyalty. Mellona never forgot what Alera did for him as a child, and so he follows her through literally anything. Alera could kill someone right in front of him and he wouldn't blink.

Hot as fuck. People who like men love him. he is an icon.

Anyways, these two live in my head rent free. I hope you enjoyed, anon!

[lnhrdt]

Linhardt sat at one of the nearby tables in the ballroom with his head rested on his arms. Though his outfit may imply that he was somewhat dressed for the occasion, he mentally wasn’t there at all. Slowly, he would drift in and out of consciousness as his mind would dance on the slick floor with ideas. He would consider the inevitable outcome of war that would soon plague this monastery, but he would also fantasize about how he would want his future to play out. Though, his eyes opened as the lights slowly dimmed, which was when he caught the gaze of his professor.

❝ Professor, I didn’t think that this would particularly be your kind of setting, but perhaps I don’t know you as well as I thought I did. ❞ He let out a soft whistle before he stretched out his back. ❝ Though I must say, you never cease to surprise me... I don’t know how you manage being such an enigma. I begin to think that I know you, but then something new always appears. It’s strange... Strange in a good way I suppose. ❞

@bylethos is going to the ball!

[girlactionfigure]

Ellen Naomi Cohen was born on September 19, 1941.

She was mocked by people who didn’t know her heart, she was teased by supposed friends. Even after her death, the cruel joke was that she choked on a ham sandwich.

All this because of her weight.

The jokes hurt her, as it does many people who are called “fat,” who are ridiculed for the way they look, but she hid her pain well, as do many.

In high school, she adopted the name “Cass,” and, some time later, she would assume the surname “Elliot” in memory of a friend who had died.

According to a 2019 article by writer, Sheila Weller, “Cass—Ellen Naomi Cohen—was a middle-class Jewish girl from Baltimore who left high school six months before graduation to go to New York and try Broadway. She lost the role of Mrs. Marmelstein in ‘I Can Get It For You Wholesale’ to a budding young Jewish singer-actress who did her share to establish the rule that you didn’t have to be classically beautiful to be a star: Barbra Streisand. Cass then got a job as a coat check girl at a Manhattan nightclub, the Bitter End, singing and trying to get random agents’ attention, as she juggled hangers and quarters as tips.”

Cass Elliot had a wonderful, soothing voice, she had a wonderful personality, a beautiful soul, but the story is that initially not even John Phillips wanted her as part of his new group, which would become the Mamas and Papas. According to insiders, Phillips thought she was too fat and didn’t fit the image of the group. It was only when the group realized that she had a beautiful voice which actually made the group better that she was allowed more opportunities to sing.

When she was finally featured, she had to make up a story that she had a terrible voice until a pipe fell on her head, which somehow made her voice better.

Even after that, Elliot’s weight continued to be a source for jokes.

In one of the Mamas and the Papas biggest hits, “Creeque Alley”, Elliot had to join the chorus, singing, “And no one’s getting fat except Mama Cass!”

After she left the group, she tried to get away from the name “Mama” Cass to no avail.

“My mother was The Little Engine That Could,” her daughter Owen Elliot-Kugell told Weller. “Weight shaming was something she dealt with all her life. She was constantly insulted and hurt by people calling or thinking her fat. But she never talked about her pain, and when she performed, she hid that pain. But I know — I could tell—that it bothered her. As a child she was teased as a fatty. Her weight was something she bore the scars of for the rest of her life, be it failed auditions for Broadway shows or lonely nights after The Mamas and The Papas’ performances at Carnegie Hall or the Hollywood Bowl, coming home alone when everyone else had a partner.”

She once said, “I’ve been fat since I was seven and being fat sets you apart.”

“For others, that might have been a handicap but Cass turned it into a strength,” according to The Guardian. “She opened the door for others like Janis Joplin and Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane,” says DJ Annie Nightingale. “I adored her voice, you couldn’t help but like her and she helped establish a genre of independent women.”

“Cass’s impact on 60s teenagers with weight problems was significant,” said The Guardian. Nancy Roberts, founder member of the Spare Tyre Theatre Company, a group inspired by Susie Orbach’s Fat is a Feminist Issue, explains: “She was this wonderful sexy role model and inspiration who made it less of an incriminating burden to be fat.”

“Aside from breaking the weight-shaming stigma and rising as an improbable female icon, Cass was other things young women weren’t allowed to be then but can be now — a proud single-mother-by-choice and a working mother who supported her child alone,” according to Weller.

“At 25, Cass knew she wanted to be a solo mother — a bold choice at the time, even in bohemian circles,” according to NexTribe.

“She wanted me more than anything else in the world — she told people that,” her daughter said.

But, even with all her personal and musical triumphs and outwardly confidence, Elliot constantly felt the brunt of the fat jokes and the pressure to be slim.

“She said she’d never go on stage because Michelle was beautiful and she wasn’t,” says John Phillips, one of the Papas. She was persuaded to change her mind but no one stopped her trying dangerous diets.

Elliot tried desperately to lose weight, once going on a six-month long crash diet, losing 100 of her 300 pounds. This would lead to a stomach ulcer and throat problems, which was treated by drinking milk and cream, leading her to regain much of her weight back.

At age 32, Elliot would die in her sleep. Immediately, there were rumors that she either died because of drugs or that she died while eating a ham sandwich.

Frank Zappa would even reference the sandwich in his song, “We’re Turning Again” with the lyrics, “We can visit Big Mama, we can whap her on the back, while she eats her sandwich!”

As recent as 2007, even Snopes had to post an entry and dispute the ham sandwich myth of her death.

Owen Elliot was seven when her mother died. “It’s been hard for my family with the sandwich rumour,” she says. “One last slap against the fat lady. People seem to think it’s funny. What’s so darn funny?”

According to reports, there was no evidence to support the choking theory. The official autopsy revealed she had little to eat during her final hours. “There was left-sided heart failure,” wrote pathologist Keith Simpson. “She had a heart attack which developed rapidly.”

Heart failure.

Cass Elliot not only had a beautiful voice, but she also had a beautiful heart which few people got to see.

Anthony Kiedis of Red Hot Chili Peppers cited The Mamas & the Papas, and especially Elliot, as an influence, in an interview for Rolling Stone, saying, “There have been times when I’ve been very down and out in my life, and the sound of her voice has sort of given me a reason to want to carry on.”

“She was a one-woman triumph against adversity; she was ahead of her time; women now are finally doing what she did 50 years ago,” says her daughter. “I look back on her and realize that, just by example, she taught me, and others, not to accept it when someone says you can’t do something.”

“I’m proud to be my mother’s daughter,” says Owen. “When I’m having a tough day, for whatever reason, I think of all the ‘you can’t be this; you can’t do thats’ that my mother heard but ignored or conquered. She was a hero to me.”

The Jon S. Randal Peace Page

Ellen Naomi Cohen was born in Baltimore, Maryland, on September 19, 1941, the daughter of Bess (née Levine; 1915–1994) and Philip Cohen (died 1962) All four of her grandparents were Russian Jewish immigrants.

[anunvalidcritic]

Justice League: Snyder Cut

(DISCLAIMER: MY OPINION IS MY OWN AND CAN BE DEEMED INVALID TO THOSE WHO DON’T CARE FOR IT.)

Oh, the time has come my friends! Now, I originally did a review on Batman V.S. Superman and I didn’t care for it, so I deleted it. But before I start, I would like y’all to read this statement made by @verified-villain-fxcker - You can click HERE to read it. As I stated in my repost, I couldn’t have said it better. May Autumn Snyder continue to rest in peace. Let’s get started!

It’s been so long since I’ve made a post I can’t even remember how I do this LOL.

CLARK is outta there to say the least...

WONDER WOMAN and LOIS look flabbergasted, as they should... BRUCE as well.

Talk about a shock-wave scream 

All jokes aside, the hate that LEX has towards SUPERMAN is just to much energy to be giving to another person..

THESE BITCHIES ARE READY

why are they letting a minority approach the fucking the cube?!?!

*insert travel montage scene here*

                      Part 1 - “Don’t count on it, Batman.”

BRUCE knows damn well he’s talking to AQUAMAN. Let’s move this shit along lol

“Oh Gotham? How’s that shit hole?” - AQUAMAN

Ik these bitchies aren’t singing rofl

I’d sniff anything wore by Jason Momoa too.

“Maybe a man who broods in a cave isn’t cut out to be a recruiter.” - ALFRED

TALK YO SHIT ALFRED!!!!

AMY ADAMS can literally take my heart, step on it, throw it in a river and I still wouldn’t be mad. 

Here comes the lovely WONDER WOMAN!

broooo her hands were moving like Donnie Yen in Ip Man!

Fucked that entire ceiling up

Ofc the one who tried to touch it would make the stupid statement. 

STEPPENWOLF is really wildin’ out

Don’t look back! I hate it when they look back!!

These are some strong as women!

                             PART 2 - “The Age of Heroes”

“It’s toxic, that’s good.” - STEPPENWOLF

I can only imagine that this is how toxic people think. 

this dude really just threw that lil demon fella like it was nothin’ lmao

You know you're working at a job for too long when you say this is the first time in a while that they're going home early smdh

Now that shit was pretty lit....

SILAS thinkin’ shit I better check on my son. 

“You know a lot about monsters, don’t you? Especially how to make them.” - CYBORG

If that isn’t teen angst, then I don’t know wtf is lmao

Seeing Gal in this tomb makes me want to re-watch Wonder Woman 1 all over again!

DARKSEID ol’ trifflin’ ass

plopped him down like he was dirty laundry

God bless Willem Dafoe, this man is a fuckin’ legend!

“This world is divided. They’re a primitive species. Unevolved and at war with one another. Too separate to be one.” - STEPPENWOLF

DeSaad kinda looks like Doctor Doom in the Fantasic Four reboot lmao

GREEN LATERNS!!!!!!!!!!!! OH SHIT!!!!!!!!

we really need a Green Lantern Corps moving...

ZEUS + ARES = A Dynamic Duo When They Aren’t Being Dicks To Each Other

You know I feel bad for man because all they did was bury that shit in the ground rofl

                  Part 3 - “Beloved Mother, Beloved Son”

BARRY + IRIS = Love at First Sight 

The burger can’t be that good like damn. 

Bro the detail on his fucking shoes and the glass!!

ROFL PLEASE TELL ME HE TOOK THE HOTDOG FOR HIS DOG!?!? 

damn did the car really need to explode...

lol BARRY must really need the job lol

... I would’ve just played dead after he threw me against that rock...

Man of Steel probably has one of the best soundtracks not just for a superhero movie but just in general

Americans love their football!

I have this love-hate relationship with CYBORG being in the JL and not with the TITANS you know since he’s a kid, but he’s a college student in this one. 

Thank God DIANA spoke with VICTOR instead of BRUCE because I honestly don’t think he would’ve gotten him on board.

Everyone can literally zigzag zoom across this planet at undeniable speed except for BATMAN lol

Come on, VIC, help the lady out.

You know honestly, BARRY has a pretty cool pad for someone who's trying to get by paying for a Criminal Justice Degree. 

“A very attractive Jewish boy. Who drinks milk, I don’t drink milk.” - BARRY

“Fuck the World.” - CYBORG

dang Ik DIANA has every right to grieve over STEVE, but damn that man has her whipped!

“You’re looking at the hottest thing on Earth. The exact same thing I said to my prom date. She dumped me anyway.” - RYAN CHOI

Why does MERA have an accent in this but not in AQUAMAN?? (ik the answer)

DAAAYYUUUMMMN MERA TURNED INTO A WHOLE BLOOD BENDER!

                               PART 4 - “Change Machine”

CYBORG just glided over silently

STEPPENWOLF + WONDER WOMAN = EPIC FIGHT SCENE

Seeing BARRY move like that to stop the debris and to ping DIANA’S sword really is amazing..

But he should not be screaming like that LOL

How do you not remember the planet that’s habitants almost killed you?? Because if that was me, I wouldn’t have forgotten that shit at all!

 Would've held a big ass grudge until I could go back. 

“I know we’re all thinking the same thing right now. Who’s gonna say it? I’m not gonna say it.” - BARRY

WOOOAAHHH J’ONN JONES?! (forgot about that)

 “There are six, not five. There is no us without him.” - BRUCE

Damn, no faith at all 

                         PART 5 - “ALL The King’s Horses”

ICONIC DIALOGUE

BARRY - “Wonder Woman. What do you think, man? You think she’d go for a younger guy?”

VICTOR - “She’s 5,000 years old, Barry. Every guy is a younger guy.”

I would’ve kept swippin’ that ID like a cashier at Wal-Mart swippin’ a debit card.

They're movin’ a little too slow for me. Ik they’ve never been on the ship before, but I would’ve been zoomin’ through that entire ship just to hurry and get the job done. 

NOT THE PREGNANCY TEST

Damn, they couldn’t have at least picked up the photo??

The foreshadowing was spectacular! It will always amaze me. 

I’m sure Allstate will cover that person’s car...

Just when LOIS was about to move on. 

CLARK grabbed DIANA like miss me with that Rafiki shit.

I would’ve come back to my senses too after looking at Amy Adams. 

AQUAMAN + THE FLASH = A CONUNDRUM

DR. SILAS takin’ one for the team

                              PART 6 - “Something Darker”

As crazy as radiation is, it’s quite an amazing spectacle.

I wish this Justice League movie could’ve held off until we got some other heroes such as the Green Lanterns, Hawkgirl, and many others. 

Our generation was truly blessed to have an incredible actor as SUPERMAN, and we are not putting him to use!

JONATHAN sounds like President Biden lol

Alright, team?! Break!

AQUAMAN is totally enjoying this fight. He rode that Parademon like a surfboard.

AQUAMAN + CYBORG + FLASH = *THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN*

I swear every scene that WONDER WOMAN enters into does not fail to include the “Ancient Lamentation Music”. 

VICTOR hurry up and say “one” god damnnit!!

SUPERMAN COLD!!!!

Somebody needs to put this fight on WorldStar

BARRY = HE’S A RUNNA HE’S A TRACK STAHHHHARRR!!!

THAT WAS FUCKING IMMACULATE

The Unity  = The Three Bitchies

I bet DARKSEID will remember that shit now

                        EPILOGUE - “A Father Twice Over”

VICTOR = A Final Requiem

LOL VULKO and MERA look stressed tf out!

“Uh, I have too much to live for. And more important things to do.” - LEX

A cocky motherfucker LMAO

Alright, we’re back in this type of dream sequence. 

“Who have you ever loved?” - MERA

Uh, bitch his parents, Robin tf?!

Thank you, JOKER, for stating the facts for Ms. Fish-stick

 Oh shit, they let LOIS die, goddamn it!

HARLEY’S DEAD TOO?!?!?!

BRUCE LOOK SICK AF!!!

Well, the dream is over once again...

I just don’t see how people can live with all those fuckin’ windows. 

“Oh, and some have called me The Martian Manhunter.” - J’ONN

Alright...

________

Yes, the movie was long but what needed to be expressed was. As we already the Snyder Cut wasn’t supposed to be seen because a father simply wanted to grieve the death of his child. I’ll once again reiterate what @verified-villain-fxcker you don't have to like the film but at least give it the benefit of the doubt from its predecessor. For me, I did enjoy watching his version, but let’s be honest what he who shall not be named did was just fucked up. 

[amyhendry-contextualstudiesyear1]

The Legacy of Frida Kahlo

Frida Kahlo is a Mexican born artist formerly remembered for her paintings, more specifically her paintings based on nature and Mexican culture as well as her many self-portraits. Kahlo took up painting whilst recovering for a bus accident she was in as a teenager, the accident left her in a full body cast for quite some time and painting was her way of distracting her from the pain of recovery. Her work is heavily inspired by her culture which she incorporates in the clothing and scenery that she depicts in her paintings. In her lifetime she completed over 140 paintings (55 of which being self-portraits). A common theme in Kahlo’s work is both physical and emotional pain, the physical pain coming from her multiple surgeries she had to undergo because of her accident and her emotional pain came from her rocky relationship with her husband, fellow artist Diego Rivera (who she married twice). Despite that Kahlo is recognised as one of the greatest artist Mexico has ever seen and has become on of the most widely known artist in the world.

Kahlo was born in Coyoacán, Mexico City on the 6th of July 1907 and her full name is Magdalena Carmen Frieda Kahlo y Calderón. Kahlo’s father was a photographer who immigrated from Germany to Mexico where he met her mother Matilde, she is the third child with her two older sisters Matilde and Adriana and her younger sister Cristina. Even before her accident Kahlo had problems with her mobility as she contracted polio at a young age that damaged her right foot and caused her to have a limp from the age of six. In 1922 Kahlo became one of the only female students to attend the renowned National Preparatory School in which she became very politically active and joined the Young Communist League and the Mexican Communist Party whilst still a student. Not long after (1928) she married fellow artist Diego Rivera in what would become a very rocky and unstable relationship going through several periods of separation and rekindling, it was this relationship that would inspire some of her most famous paintings.

Kahlo first exhibited her work in 1939 in an exhibit in Paris, her work received massive praise and not long after Kahlo was commissioned by the Mexican government for five portraits of important Mexican women in 1941, however she was unable to finish the project due to the passing of her father as well as her chronic health problems. In 1953 Kahlo got her very first solo exhibit in her home city and, despite being bedridden, she refused to miss the opening and arrived by ambulance to celebrate with attendee’s. After Kahlo’s passing in 1954 her work became the symbol for female creativity and helped fuel the feminist movement in the 70’s, it was such events that has made her artwork iconic. “Frida expresses her own experiences in her works, it is exactly what she is living in her present, how she interprets it and how she believes that others live it. She paints after her divorce, as already mentioned before, “Las dos Fridas”, which we can locate within Surrealism (1939), because the surrealists do not want to copy reality but prefer to capture their reality, which is what they interpret of her dreams, or in the case of Frida, her own experiences, since she was able to create wonderful works from them. (…) Frida differs from the surrealists because she does not pretend to paint her dreams or liberate the unconscious, but through the technique of surrealism expresses her own experiences, which emanate suffering.” – Galeria Valmar, artes visuals, 2019.

The Broken Column 

For this next part I wanted to analyse some of Kahlo’s most famous paintings and explore the deeper meaning behind them, starting with ‘The Broken Column’. ‘The Broken Column’ was a self-portrait created in 1944 shortly after a spinal surgery Kahlo underwent due to her accident, the surgery left her in a full body cast and a spinal brace which can be seen in the painting. Also in the painting we can see her body appearing almost cut in half, as if her spine had been ripped out, as well as nails poking out of her body. This actively demonstrates the physical pain constant years of surgery has caused Kahlo with the nails being a physical representation of such. Through the centre of her body the column taking the place of her spine is broken in several places creating the effect that it’s about to crumble and collapse on itself. Almost all of Kahlo’s self-portraits are meant to display her suffering caused by her accident, which left her both unable to bear children and ended her dreams of becoming a doctor, this is often shown by her facial expressions with ‘The Broken Column’ being no exception. After a closer look you can tears falling down her face as well as strong highlights in her pupils to emphasise the physical and emotional pain she was suffering. “The Broken Column was painted shortly after Frida Kahlo had undergone another surgery on her spinal column. The operation left her bedridden and “enclosed” in a metallic corset (…) The accident ended Kahlo’s dreams of becoming a doctor and caused her pain and illness for the rest of her life. (…) Although her face is bathed in tears, it doesn’t reflect a sign of pain. The nails piercing her body are a symbol of the constant pain she faced.” – Zuzanna Stanska, The daily art magazine, 2017.

Some people also believe that this painting is not just a representation of the pain Kahlo endured because of her health, many believe that it is also a commentary on the emotional pain caused by her unstable marriage. Most of the Kahlo’s most iconic pieces are inspired by her suffering and serves as a visual representation to her inner thoughts and emotions, her marriage being a large source of suffering throughout her lifetime. Some view the fragmented column lodged in her chest to be fragments of her marriage impaling her. “Despite the somewhat in-your-face symbolism, this is a favourite subject for bad art theory papers, identifying the column as everything from her fragmented marriage to a giant phallus penetrating her body. While such interpretations could be partially true, we think that sometimes a spinal column is just a spinal column (…) She referred to her medical ordeal as her “punishment.”  She also took her tragedy in good humour, saying of this painting, “You must laugh at life...Look very closely at my eyes...the pupils are doves of peace. That is my little joke on pain and suffering…”  Some claim the larger nails over her heart reflect her tortured relationship with Diego Rivera.” – Griff Stecyk, Startle, 2019.

Thinking about death

The next painting I have chosen to analyse is titled ‘Thinking of Death’ which is a self portrait created in 1943. This painting was created around the time Kahlo’s health really began to deteriorate as it depicts herself surrounded by nature with a small skull in her for head. Kahlo painted herself in very traditional clothing with her hair done up in a bun. The skull depicted in her forehead is supposed to represent the fears Kahlo had due to her health battles, with how sick she was death was a constant thought for her with it having come so close multiple times in her life. In Mexican culture death can mean the rebirth of life with is meant to be represented by the lively green leaves behind her as well as her facial expression which shows no sign of fear or panic suggesting Kahlo’s acceptance of death being another part of life. “Due to her poor health condition, death is an inevitable thought which lingering over her mind. In this painting, death is symbolized as skull and crossbones which shows up in her forehead. In ancient Mexican culture, death also means rebirth and life.” – FridaKahlo.org, 2017.

The skull itself represents the thought of death and sits right were ones third eye would be, this suggests that maybe Kahlo views the thought of death as some kind of wisdom instead of a fear, although Kahlo never wished to be labelled as a surrealist artist as her paintings come from her reality. “In Kahlo’s collective work, death seems to pervade almost every one of her paintings as an expression of pain, or a motif of oppression concerning female gender roles. Kahlo employs an almost anatomical eye in looking at her form, juxtaposing it beside images of adorned skeletons.” – MaryFrances Knapp, Seven Pounds, 2017.

Self Portrait with Thorn Necklace and Hummingbird

The final painting I have chosen to analyse is titled ‘Self-portrait with Hummingbird and Thorn Necklace’ which is another self-portrait completed in 1940. In this painting Kahlo is surrounded by animals such as a monkey and a black cat with a large necklace of thorns around her neck, in the thorns there is a hummingbird tangled amongst them. She is also surrounded by green leaves much like ‘Thinking about Death’ with insects like dragonflies and butterflies in her hair, with a blue sky barely peaking behind the leaves. The painting was completed soon after Kahlo’s messy divorces with Rivera following the theme of suffering throughout her paintings. The thorns around her neck could be a visual representation of how it felt to grieve her relationship much like the nails did in ‘The Broken Column’, though it could have a religious meaning referring to Jesus’s crown of thorns. Kahlo also incorporates Mexican culture into this piece with each animal representing something different that is relevant to the context of the painting with hummingbirds symbolising love, black cats symbolising bad luck, Dragonflies symbolising prosperity and monkeys symbolising lust. “This self-portrait was created following Kahlo’s divorce to Diego Rivera (…) There are obvious religious overtones to the piece using Jesus’s crown of thorns. Kahlo has painted herself as a Christian martyr, enduring the pain of her failed marriage (…) In Mexican culture, hummingbirds signify falling in love and are used in love charms (…) Kahlo often used vibrant flora and fauna as backgrounds for her self-portraits, to create a claustrophobic space teeming with fertility. It is thought that the emphasis of her monobrow and moustache – with the lines of her eyebrows mimicking the wingspan of the hummingbird around her neck – was intended as a feminist statement.” – Tara Lloyd, Singul art Magazine, 2019

This painting is a great look into Kahlo’s attention to detail and how every piece of her paintings represents something, she is very in touch with her culture and has great understanding as how to show her emotions and life experiences in each of her pieces. “Like many other of her paintings, this artwork is a lot akin to a painted assortment of symbols. Every element in this painting gives specific clues to Kahlo's mental state, perhaps none more than her still, direct, emotionless gaze that seems to express the immediacy of her pain.” Audrey V, Wide Walls, 2018

To sum up everything thus far Frida Kahlo is an incredible artist who poured her life into her work, her pain and passion has made her paintings so iconic in this modern age. She has become a symbol not only for Mexican artists but female artists as well, paving the way for many like her in the years to come. In response to why she painted so many self-portraits Kahlo responded, “I paint self-portraits because I am so often alone, because I am the person I know best”.

Bibliography

Galeria Valmar, artes visuals, 2019

Zuzanna Stanska, The daily art magazine, 2017.

Griff Stecyk, Startle, 2019.

FridaKahlo.org, 2017

MaryFrances Knapp, Seven Pounds, 2017

Tara Lloyd, Singul art Magazine, 2019

Audrey V, Wide Walls, 2018

[wincestisasincest]

The Green Book (Thorin’s Company x Reader, Part 1)

Hello all! This is something of a rewrite for an idea that I had when I was like, 13, but I started it and it was a hot pile of ass, so we’re taking another crack at it. Basically, sort of like how Bilbo and Fordo recorded everything in the Red Book of Westmarch, this is a book where (y/n) records all of her adventures after falling into Middle Earth.

I have no idea how long this is going to be, nor if there’s going to be any more specific pairings, so feel free to shoot me one if you’d like to see something play out!

A quick note! This story is in first person, not in second person, but it is still about the reader. It is the reader’s later account of their adventures. I’m sure you’re all smart people and can figure this out, but I wanted to make that clear. 

Summary: (Y/n) falls into Middle Earth. Shocker. Somehow, she gets recruited to join a party of dwarves on their kinda crazy mission to reclaim their home of Erebor. 

Part: 1

Words: 1593

Warnings: Plot clichés, getting lost, fainting

To whom it may concern: This book is a project by myself, (f/n) (l/n), to record an official account of both my voyage through the land of Middle Earth, how it intertwined with the quest to reclaim Erebor, and what happened in between. All information here has been directly experienced by me and has been corroborated by other living peoples in Middle Earth, which shall be credited in the after section if any reader seeks to verify.

I write you, the person reading my Green Book, this letter at the beginning of the book because I want to make clear my intention. While this book shall certainly be used for historical record, and I am honored to have it serve that purpose, that is not my primary intention in writing it. I feel that, in the case of historical record, we tend to miss out on a very important element in the stories of our ancestors. Their humanity. 

Or dwarf-manity. Or hobbit-manity. Or wizard-manity. 

The point is that I have scoured many manuscripts in my years, and all of them treat those of the past as though they are sculptures created purely of dates, epithets, and conquest, and that is simply not the case. The deeds of this company are not going to be forgotten for a long time, but their personality, individual quirks, fears, loves, hopes, dreams, and heart, may fade into obscurity as their time comes to an end. 

That it what I wish to eliminate with this book. Above all else, I want you, the reader, not to remember them as historical icons, but as the caring, brave group of adventurers that I have come to love. 

No, I cannot completely fix a disconnected view of the past, but I can sure try.

***********

I got my start in adventuring at the same time I got my start in Middle Earth. And both of them were complete accidents. 

The land that I come from, just Earth, is wholly different from its Middle counterpart. There are no species besides that of the human race, which have ruled the planet for many centuries and divided into their own cultures with individual languages, practices, religions, and such. As humans are quite non-magical, however, this does also mean that there is no magic in this world. Instead, humans have conquered it through different applications of knowledge, through which they have created many a valuable devices that replace the need for magic. These devices may do things such as heal the sick, communicate over long distances, defend oneself, light up dark rooms, and so on. 

The only common trait that it shared with its counterpart was that it had no idea that there was any Earth besides itself. 

So, you can imagine that my stumble into Middle Earth was by no means intentional. 

I was a dreamy young lady of (your age) years. I had things to do that would take up most of my day’s energy, but when I did have a minute of downtime or two, I could always be found wandering in the woods. Something in its peaceful nature, in which I could not hear the hustle and bustle of the rest of society, was very relaxing to me. 

More often than not, I would recline on a large, flat rock deeper into the forest and go about leisure activities such as reading or drawing. Such leisure activities were exactly what I was occupied with on that very day that would change my life. 

I looked up from the pages of a very gripping read at an odd sound coming from the woods. Now, the woods are full of odd sounds, and to try to put a name on all of them would do the terrain a disservice, but something in particular about this sound woke up something in me. My curiosity could only be quenched by an exploration.

The sound itself mirrored that of language, as though some mysterious force were whispering words but were hidden from sight, however, the words were not from any language that I understood or recognized. Even after I had come to learn of languages particular to the land of Middle Earth, such as Elvish and Khuzdul, I still cannot specifically attribute any one of them to this whispering. 

I shoved everything that I was doing into my bright red backpack (or just pack, as they are more commonly called) and slid off my rock, walking towards the sound. One could almost say I was hypnotized, as it just dragged me in. Deeper and deeper I trailed into the woods.

At some point the whispering stopped, and I was snapped back to reality. I had completely lost track of time. I peered around, and realized that I could not recognize where I was. I whipped out my phone (a cellular device used for communication which I will expand on in later chapters) to check what time it was, only to be confronted with the fact that five hours had passed. 

This news was even more distressing, because, if five hours had passed, then the sky should be occupied by the moon and not the sun. I ran the numbers in my head. I had been on the rock at about six, and my phone now read that it was eleven at night. But the birds still tweeted, and it was still sunny, as though it was but a pleasant afternoon. 

I attempted to use my phone to possibly communicate with someone, or find out my location, but the technology failed. Resolving to save battery, I put it away and continued to observe my location. It did seem like this part of the world had been completely claimed by nature, with no sign of any sort of civilization in sight. I would’ve found it beautiful it it did not signal my possible demise. 

In my world, a common piece of advice for those who are lost is to wait in one place. This advice is most commonly given when one is traveling with a group, which makes sense, as a group would not only quickly realize that you were lost, but could easily fan out to search for you, which would only be made easier if you were prevented from getting any farther from where you had strayed from. 

However, I was not traveling with a group. I was alone. I quickly weighed the pros and cons of staying in once place, before deciding that, when combined with how big this forest apparently was, to how long it would take someone to realize I was gone, to how long it would take them to conclude that I was in the forest, to how long that it would take them to search the forest, to the fact that I had no concept of time anyway, that I would surely die before this technique yielded any results. 

No, my best bet was to continue forward and hope to come across something eventually. If not civilization, then food or water. Either way, I would not die in the forest.

Gathering all my resolve, I continued to trek forward. 

Slowly, but surely, night overtook this strange forest-land as well, and there was no sign of any civilization in sight. I had no food or water with me, which was only made clearer by my parched throat and growling stomach. 

Against my terrible luck, a heavenly smell (or perhaps a nasty smell that simply came to me when I was hungry) wafted over the trees and to my location. I had no choice but to follow it. 

It wasn’t something that I recognized, like beef or chicken, but was definitely a sort of meat. Regardless, I would eat anything at this point. My hope was only increased when I heard what sounded like conversations passing around a campfire. Perhaps, I thought, it was a group of campers that would be able to help out a very lost and confused traveller. 

I grew more desperate. I pulled leaves and branches out of the way and nearly tripped over rocks. Though I still couldn’t make out the words that were being said, they sounded oddly aggressive and simplistic. It was intermixed with the neighing of horses, sounding very distressed, though my animalistic impulses at the time elected to ignore that. 

“...and if it don’t look like mutton tomorra!” So that’s what the meat was. Mutton. That sounded delicious.

Finally, I could see the campfire peaking through the trees. I hopped out into the clearing, not even taking the time to think of what I would say or do, just following the food. 

In front of me were three of the biggest and ugliest creatures that I had ever seen in my life. You and I now understand them as trolls, but I had never seen a troll before, though, if you had told me at the time that that’s what they were called, I would not be surprised. Their bodies were large and their heads were tiny, with layers and layers of fat making up their bulging stomachs, around which was a loosely tied loincloth. Whatever was under that, I didn’t want to think about. Their faces had crooked teeth, large noses, sloping foreheads, and very stupid looks plastered on them, though as it happened, all of those stupid looks were looking directly at me. 

“Lads, we’re eating human tonight!” The middle one shouted gleefully, raising his arms and looking at me menacingly while getting up out of his chair. 

I fainted on sight.

******

Ahhh, I just negged y’all. We’ll see the gang in the next chapter, don’t worry, but I gotta tease it first. 

Next chapter will be out soon, by the way, because that’s what quarantine is for.

Also, if you’re interested, shoot me an ask/suggestion for what the reader has in her bag! I have a few ideas, but I’m really open to anything, whether it’s a specific book, a cool trinket, a sentimental object, whatever you guys have!

You can also shoot me pairings if you’d like though I may or may not have a very unpopular one in mind already

[shinsorokiri]

UA Idol | Chapter Ten

Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader

Word Count: 2,417

Warnings: Language

A/N: And we’re at Hell Week! Sorry this chapter took a little longer to get out, I was driving back from my parents house to my apartment and it was all very chaotic and hectic, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! What do you think everyone’s gonna sing next week >:)

───────────────────────────────────

Arriving at the hotel was... intimidating. It’s very fancy, and you are a college student. Mina, on the other hand, was thriving. “Oh my GOD (Y/n), we have a MINI FRIDGE!”

“LOOK AT THE BALCONY!!”

“Do you think Zendaya has ever been here? I would sell my soul to know if she stayed in this room.”

All of her little outbursts were intensely amusing, but you were too busy deciding on what you should wear to the first day of Hell Week. Luckily, the flight landed at six in the morning Los Angeles time, and since you had slept for almost the whole flight, you felt good to go. Also, if you would get to live shows, this is probably something you’re gonna need to get used to. “Okay, so this black, or this slightly blue tinted black?” you ask, holding up a few articles of clothing. Mina sighs, shaking her head before walking over to you. “(Y/n), sweetie, just wear whatever you want! You’re going to look good regardless.”

“But we’ll be on television, Mina, not everyone can look as effortlessly perfect as you can,” you say, sighing. “You’re right, there’s only a few people who are at my level. Luckily, you’re one of them. Just wear the outfit you planned to wear before we even got to LA. It’s cute as hell and it captures your personality perfectly.” She picks up the clothes you’d planned to wear and tosses them at you. She was right, you did look great in that outfit, and you don’t even know why you worried in the first place. Overthinking at its finest, you guess. “Oh, but if you need help with any other outfit, you know damn well I will help you. Now, let’s go! Time for Hell Week, bitch!”

She grabs your arm and basically drags you down to the lobby, where you two run into Shinsou and Denki. “Are you guys excited?!” Denki basically shrieks, and Mina, in return, also screams. You and Shinsou glance at each other, the pure exhaustion radiating off of you two. You both have an unspoken conversation of “How the hell do we do this” This causes both of you to break out into a grin. How cute. “Shinsou, (Y/n), hurry! We need to get to the theater!” Mina screams, grabbing both of your arms and dragging you outside of the hotel to the cars waiting to take the contestants away. The four of you pile into one of them where you find two other people. There’s a red head with an infectious smile and a blonde guy with an infectious frown. Interesting. “Hi! I’m Kirishima Eijirou!” the red-head takes no time in introducing himself as the car starts to drive to your next location. “Kaminari Denki, but you can just call me Denki.”

“Oh, and I’m Mina!”

“Uh… just Mina?” Kirishima asks, and she nods. “Well I mean my family name is Ashido, but I go by Mina. And this is (Y/f/n) and that’s Shinsou Hitoshi!” Mina introduces the two of you where wave. “Awesome! This is my boyfriend Ba-“

“Bakugo Katsuki. Shut up, shitty hair, you know you’ve had a scratchy throat for the past two days don’t fuck your chances before you even get there, dumbass,” the blonde growls, reprimanding Kirishima. Though his words are harsh, Kirishima just smiles. “Awww look at you. Worrying about me.”

“OI! I SAID SHUT UP!”

“You said… boyfriends? Are you sure, Bakugo seems more like an angry… mom?” Denki says, and Kirishima laughs while basically holding Bakugo back in his seat. Weird dynamic. Cute dynamic, but weird dynamic. Mina and Denki engage in conversation with Kirishima, and you and Shinsou give your input every once and a while but you let them just talk to each other. Bakugo keeps screaming about Kirishima needs to rest his voice, and eventually Kirishima says Bakugo needs to rest his voice because of all the unnecessary damn screaming he’s been doing. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and when you look at it you realize it’s a text from Shinsou. “i’m not saying we should have gotten in a different car to get some peace and quiet, but i’m saying we should have gotten in a different car to get some peace and quiet”

You smile to yourself before shooting back a quick, “you’re right, we sabotaged ourselves how tragic” to which you see Shinsou grin at before looking back at you. “Hey wait! You didn’t tell me y’all were a couple!” you hear Kirishima’s voice interrupt whatever little moment the two of you were having, and you both immediately turn red. You start stuttering out an explanation to him. “What? we aren’t…”

“Yeah, no we’re just-”

“Friends!”

“Yeah, friends!” Shinsou says, clearing his throat and awkwardly looking out the window. “Yeah right. And Kirishima and I didn’t join the mile-high club on our flight here,” Bakugo grumbles, and it’s Kirishima’s turn to turn as red as his hair. “Katsuki!”

“Oh, wow would you look at that?! We’re here!” Shinsou, uncharacteristically, screams when you pull up to the theater where you’ll all be performing. You and Shinsou get out of the car, speed-walking away from all the relationship talk. “Sorry about them,” Mina says to Kirishima, who looks genuinely confused. “They both just hate the idea of relationships even though, you know, they’re cute as hell together,” Denki explains and Kirishima slowly nods. “Well... I am willing to help them realize they actually like each other.”

“Wait, seriously?” Mina smiles, already excited when Kirishima nods, grinning just as big as she is. “Oh my god HELL YES!”

“Stop screaming Raccoon Eyes! Anyone ever tell you to let up on the eyeliner. We need to go inside,” Bakugo grabs Kirishima’s arm and starts dragging him in. “Oh my god, Denki, I’m in, he gave me a mean nickname,” Mina whispers to Denki excitedly before chasing after the two guys they just became fast friends with. Well friends with Kirishima. Bakugo is... still undetermined.

When they get inside, they find the two of you sitting next to each other in the corner of the many chairs set up in the theater lobby avoiding everyone else. “You know, I really thought some of my social skills would rub off on him. Tragic,” Denki says as they all make their way over to you. You glance up from your phone to see them walking over and you give a small wave. “A wave? That’s all we get after you literally sprinted away from us like we had an infectious disease?” Mina says, and you shrug. “Sprinted away from you guys? I have no recollection of that.”

“And I’m sure Tosh has no idea either,” Denki says, and Shinsou grins at him, shaking his head no. Denki and Mina groan, sitting next to you along with Kirishima and Bakugo. Of course, Bakugo was complaining that they were sitting next to you “extras” and Kirishima kept laughing it off and saying he was all bark and no bite. For some reason, you didn’t believe he was all bark and no bite. In fact, you think he was mostly bite and the bark came as a warning beforehand, but Kirishima was his owner and as long as he was around, he wouldn’t actually hurt anyone. Thanks, Kirishima. You watched as people from all around piled into the room. Some, you could tell, were California natives or had at least lived there for a long enough time to put off that energy. Others were definitely from other places all around the world, and it was really interesting to see. Also, terrifying. There were a lot of people here. And they were all after the same thing you were. It would take a miracle to actually get through Hell Week and onto the live shows. You feel your phone buzz again, and you look down at it. ‘don’t worry kitten you’re gonna kill it.’

You glance over at Shinsou who gives you a quick little wink before sending a thumbs up and smiley face to you. You can’t help but smile at that. Crazy how he knew how to cheer you up so fast. Especially since y’all didn’t meet that long ago. Guess you were just meant to be best friends.

“Oh, it looks like everyone is here,” Mina says, glancing around. Sure enough, the entire room was full. All the empty seats you saw when you came in were occupied with other people now. And that’s when a producer comes out and tells everyone to quiet down because the judges would be out soon. And cue everyone getting excited and nervous again. “I can’t wait to see what Midnight is wearing. She always looks so good,” Mina says, and Kirishima nods. “I know! It’s always so funny to see what she’s wearing compared to Aizawa.”

“Yeah if there was anyone who embodied not giving a fuck, it is Aizawa Shouta that’s for sure,” Denki says and Mina and Kirishima laugh. “Don’t you idiots think it’s a bad idea to talk about the judges when they could hear you,” Bakugo snaps and Kirishima pats his hand. “It’s okay, Katsu, I think Aizawa would take it as a compliment.” Bakugo rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else. That’s when the four judges walk out, and everyone goes quiet. That is of course until Present Mic starts yelling into the camera and doing his job as the best MC in entertainment. He goes on his welcome to Hell Week rant as the UA Idol makeup artists touch up the judges. Even Aizawa gets some make-up put on him, and no. No, he does not look like he enjoys that at all. “And here come the judges to let our contestants know just what is happening this year during Hell Week,” PM finishes out his, well, monologue, basically, and the cameras all turn to the judges. “Hi everyone!” Midnight says, waving to everyone. Mina was right. She does look pretty damn good. I mean it’s hard to not look good when you look like her, especially since she’s wearing an all-black bodysuit that accentuates every curve. As expected, Aizawa is also wearing all black but it’s literally a baggy long sleeve shirt and baggy black jeans. Of course, Toshinori is wearing a suit, and Keigo is wearing quite possibly the most stylish lazy outfit you could ever see. Icons, honestly. “So, welcome to Hell Week, as you know it’s called Hell Week for a reason. The reason being it always changes. The only constant being the group challenge. Other than that, you all have no idea what is about to come,” Aizawa says, and Toshinori sighs. “Aizawa why do you insist on scaring them?”

“They need to know fear. No recording artist would be anything without fear.”

“Whatever you say you absolute sadist. Anyways, we’re here to tell you the first part of Hell Week, which will be starting in about,” Keigo glances at his phone and smiles. “Twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes?!” you hear Mina whisper to herself, and sure enough a lot of the other people in the room are taken aback as well. You’re not too surprised, they don’t call it Hell Week for nothing. “The first challenge is what we like to call the genre challenge. If you remember, when you signed up to audition in your respective cities, you also signed up for a specific genre. We had the options of pop, rock, hip hop, r&b, country, and singer-songwriter. You’ll be reminded which one you put, and if you believe your style has drastically changed, you can switch to a new genre. You have to pick a song and put your own twist on it, show us your style shine through even in your specific genre. Oh, and if you’d want to show us some original songs... I guess that would be okay, too,” Keigo explains, and shoots a glance over at you and Shinsou. The two of you look at each other, and grin. Originals? Easy.

“Right, so pop is first since there’s so many people who are signed up for that genre. We’ll give you all about ten minutes to gather yourselves, then everyone will go into the theater. You’ll also be watching everyone, time for you all to scope out your competition,” Aizawa says as he begins to walk into the theater. “Remember though, you all made it here for a reason! Even if you don’t make it through, you all have potential to be stars!” Toshinori adds, trying to make this entire situation a little less stressful. You really wish it worked. The judges enter into the theater, and then the assigned genre you signed up for is sent to you in a text message. Singer-songwriter. Still the same. “Damnit, (Y/n), why couldn’t I have put singer-songwriter like you! There has to be so many people in the pop genre...” Mina says, frowning. “Yeah there’s a lot, but none of them are quite like you,” you reassure her, and she smiles at you. “You’re the best even though you hate me most of the time.”

“Hey Kirishima, what genre are you?” Denki asks and he grins sheepishly. “I’m pop, too.”

“Told you you should have gone into rock with me, dumbass.”

“I don’t have the voice for that like you do Katsuki, that would be wrong on so many levels,” Kirishima pouts and Bakugo sighs, wrapping his arm around him. “Listen, idiot. You’re just as good if not better than everyone else in this room. You have nothing to worry about.” This caused Kirishima to smile and kiss his boyfriend’s cheek. Wow so Bakugo did have the ability to be supportive and cute. Who would have thought?

“Well hey, you, me, and Mina are about to kill this, dude. What song are you thinking of singing?” Denki asks as you all walk into the theater. “I’m not totally sure.”

“Well you know what I say, when in doubt look to Harry Styles.”

“Thank you for that wise statement, Denki,” Shinsou says sarcastically, and Denki gives him finger guns. “Well, good luck you guys. We’ll be over here where all the singer-songwriters are,” you say, grabbing Shinsou’s arm and going to your assigned section in the theater. “Time to scope out the competition,” Shinsou says after you both sit down. “Yeah. Luckily singer-songwriters go last, so let’s just sit back and observe,” you say. This is gonna be fun.

[ikenbar]

Mr. Love: Ike’s Choice CH4 PT12 (end)

Warnings: (mainly in epilogue if you want to skip that part once you reach it, go ahead) Blood, insinuating a bone breaking, threatening, broken skin, desperate begging, and just evil things all around

... meanwhile we also have fluff!, Gavin fluff!, Victor Fluff!, surprise guest fluff???, also Bart being an icon!, also some insinuated ~✰☽Gayness☾ ✰~ so if you have a problem with any of that you can leave now before you are hooked by the heckin cliffhanger that I have all cooked up for you!! :D

(Chapter Four (Victor and Gavin) Prologue, and part one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, and eleven can be found here!)

Please read the author’s note (and the beginning of the story) on chapter one part one if you’re new here :D

Chapter Four:

Part twelve (end):

She was there again. After all these years, my queen was standing right in front of me. She really hadn’t changed. Sure she had grown quite a bit but,

 It was her. 

She wasn’t very tall. Or plump for that manner. She looked to be only the size of a teenager but, after all the time that had passed from then, I knew she couldn’t have been that young. 

Her hair was brown and shoulder length. She wore a layered white skirt with a striped blue shirt tied just on top of it. She was there. But she was facing away from me. I moved to touch her but my legs wouldn't budge. Why couldn’t she just turn around? Why couldn’t she just let me see her face again?

I called her name 

Everything went black. 

Screams and cries for help filled my head. Scattered footsteps, soft cries, stone grinding stone, a loud bang, and then silence. Pain welled in my chest. A pain I hadn’t felt but somehow seemed familiar. Horribly familiar. It wretched at my insides, breaking me without giving me any kind of release. I wanted to tear the feeling out of me, pull apart my chest until I could find peace again. I just wanted it to stop. To see her again. I just wanted to see my-

I gasped and threw my eyes open. I sat up quickly, clutching at my chest and breathing heavily to steady my racing heart. The dream was over but the pain was still there. It wasn’t as prominent but it was there. What could have caused that? Why was it familiar?? Who was that girl?! 

I closed my eyes and breathed out slowly. "It was just a dream." I whispered to myself, "That girl doesn’t exist. It doesn't mean anything it's… it's just a dream." I repeated those words in my head over and over again but something about it still bothered me. Where had I seen that girl before? Where had I felt that pain before? Why was it all so familiar to me?

I groaned and held my face in my hands. I had a lot of memories that I had repressed from my childhood. That pain was heart wrenching. It’s no wonder I wanted to forget it…

But that girl. She didn’t make me feel bad. In fact, seeing her made me calm. I wanted to be closer to her, to see her face, to hold her. Why would I want to forget that? Forget her?

I looked at my watch. There was just a few minutes until my alarm to work out would go off. I sighed and lay back down. A pain pushed through my chest, not the same one from my dream but a familiar one nonetheless.

 I clutched my side as memories from the night before came flooding back to my mind. I looked over to the living room. Adri stirred from the couch, letting the blanket on her shoulders fall slightly. I slowly got out of bed and approached her cautiously. Being sure to move slowly, I pulled the blanket up and tucked the blanket into her shoulder. She snuggled into it, still fast asleep. I smiled slightly as I looked up. Gavin was sleeping in the recliner. He was sitting up in it. Despite how uncomfortable it seemed, Gavin looked to be sound asleep. I moved to walk back to my bed but paused as something on his lap caught my eye. It was a book. But not just any book. 

It was my high school yearbook. 

A pen rested in the middle, as if marking the page he was on. I smirked and carefully pulled it from him. He sure was obsessed with this book. I put the book away in its rightful place and pulled out a blanket out from a small bin. I gently placed it on Gavin, draping it carefully down his body. He breathed deeply and sunk into the chair further, falling farther into his slumber.

A soft smile blossomed on my lips. He looked so peaceful when he was sleeping like this. Not to mention vulnerable. I wonder how he would look with a mustache…

My phone buzzed. I quickly plucked it from my pocket and turned it off. I glanced at Adri and Gavin. They didn’t seem to be phased by it. Sighing lightly, I looked around my apartment. Well, now that I’m up, I might as well continue with my day…

>>>

I smoothed out my work out clothes before carefully picking up my gym bag. I walked to the door and reached for the door knob. Gavin stirred in his seat slightly. I glanced at him. I should probably leave a note if I’m leaving them like this. I tapped my chin and looked around. My eyes landed on the note pad that I kept on the fridge. Taking that and the pen that Gavin had in his yearbook, I wrote a quick note: 

I’ve already headed to work. You’re welcome to anything in the fridge as a thank you for staying over.  I think I have some homemade casserole in there if you're interested. Maria should arrive around seven so, Gavin, you shouldn’t be late for work and, Adri, have a good day at school. Let’s do this again soon.

Talk to you both later,

Ike.

I placed the note in the middle of the coffee table. I gave one last look to my guests before heading back to the door and grabbing my keys. I moved to reach for the doorknob again but paused. The spare key to my apartment enchantingly dangled before me. I looked back over to Gavin.

>

Gavin’s eyelids were overwhelmed by the morning sun. He squeezed his eyes tightly, hoping to get some more sleep. But he found that to be impossible from a craning on his neck. Gavin slowly blinked awake, his memory slowly coming back to him. He looked down. Wasn’t he reading the yearbook? Now, not only was the yearbook gone, but a blanket sat in its place. Gavin looked around the room, stretching as he did so. Adri and Ike were nowhere to be seen. Gavin quickly stood up and looked around again with more fervently this time. The bathroom door opened and Adri walked out of it, eyes looking down at her phone. She glanced up at the room and paused when she saw Gavin.

“G-good morning.” Adri stammered, cheeks becoming slightly rosy, “How’d you sleep?”

“F-fine.” Gavin faltered, his once racing heart easing at the sight of one of the sisters safe, “Where’s Ike?” Adri gestured to the coffee table, leading Gavin’s eyes down to it. There sat a folded note with his name on it. Gavin picked it up swiftly. 

“Also, I think she wants you to have this.” Adri said, cutting Gavin short of reading the note. She tossed something to him, which he caught with ease. It was a key with a separate note attached to it in Ike’s handwriting. Gavin read it.

Just in case.

“I would guess she’d want that for me but I can’t even drive yet.” Adri laughed sheepishly. Gavin smiled sweetly. Much to Ike’s perceptible dismay, Gavin had expected to use that key whenever he had the chance.

>

I stood in the elevator next to a nervously sweating Bart. “How do I look?!” He asked for the umpteenth time that day.

“Like a nervous wreck.” I honestly answered yet again. I had spent the whole day with my team, trying to put together the plan for next week’s filming. We had spent so much time together that day that I hadn’t seen Victor since he had picked me up that morning. It wasn’t like I wouldn’t see him at all that day. In the car, Victor told me that he would like to meet with both me and Bart. I didn’t know why. All Victor said was that it was important. I was unphased by the sudden invite but Bart on the other hand…

“What if Victor hates the color purple?!” Bart asked, looking distastefully down at his violet tie, “I knew I should have gone with vermillion!”

“Honestly, aren’t you the one that does all the interviews?” I asked, arching my eyebrow, “Why are you so nervous?”

“Because! What if Victor is taking back the investment?!” Bart said quickly, as if he had been waiting for my question, “What if the lunch from yesterday was enough to realize that we spend too much time as a family and not enough time as a company?! What if he hates me and wants me out of the picture so you can take over?!”

“Ok, now that we have all the dumb ideas out of the way,” I rolled my eyes, “let’s start thinking of the good ones. He probably has something that he would like to discuss about the investment to the both of us. You know, to make sure we are all on the same page.” Bart relaxed slightly, “Or he has trained ninjas waiting just beyond this door to take us out so he can take over our company.”

“EVELYN!?”

“We’ll be fine… but maybe let me take the lead.”

“Out of the elevator or in the meeting?”

“Yes.” 

The elevator dinged and, after checking for ninjas, Bart and I hurried to Victor’s office. I knocked on the door. “Come in.” Victor called. I walked in and immediately froze.

 Standing in front of Victor’s desk was a petite, professionally dressed young woman. She had brown hair that fell just at her shoulders, framing the knotted blue shirt she had on perfectly. 

She turned to me. 

As she did the flouncy shirt she wore twirled beautifully around her knees. Her eyes were big, brown, and laced with innocence. And her smile could out match a child’s with it’s purity. 

It was her. 

The woman from my dreams. 

She was standing in front of me. 

She was real.

I staggered in my steps as I watched her, dazed and astonished by the sight of her. Part of me expected to wake up. Another part wanted to continue dreaming. The last part was wondering why the heck I hadn’t said something yet. 

Bart set a hand on my shoulder, “I’m sorry.” he said as he peered into the room, “Are we interrupting something?”

“Not at all.” Victor stood from behind his desk, “Bartholomew, Ikamara, this is Youran.” The name sent sparks in the back of my mind, “She is the producer of the Yu Yun Productions Company.” Youran approached Bart and I. Each step she took shockwaves into my head. For some reason, I felt nervous to greet her. I shouldn’t have been though, as her head barely met the top of my nose  from how short she was. I could have thrown her like a football if I wanted to… or hold her close to me like a puppy.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Her voice was soft and sweet like taffy. Despite the strange feelings I had, I stepped forward. But before I could out stretch my hand, Bart had pulled me aside and took Youran’s hand instead.

“The pleasure is all mine!!” Bart enthusiastically said to her, shaking her hand fervently, “I have been a fan of your show Miracle Finder since I was, well, as young as you are!!” Bart belly laughed, causing Youran to smile sweetly. I gulped. “You’re show is the reason I decided to become a producer myself!! Your father was a legend! It was a shame to see him go... I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” She said meaningfully, accepting another handshake from Bart, “That’s really sweet of you to say.” Youran’s eyes landed on me, making my heart freeze. She held out a hand to me. “Hi!” She said kindly, “You must be-”

“Ike.” I said, finally finding my voice as I took her hand, “Call me Ike.” Something flashed In Youran’s eyes. Something indecipherable. I hesitated. Did she feel the same feelings that I had?... or maybe I was just scaring her with my staring. Speak, Ike, SPEAK! “I-it’s a pleasure to meet you, Youran.” I continued, hoping to ease away any awkwardness I may have conjured, “What are you doing at LFG? Does Victor have an investment with Yu Yun Productions as well?”

“What company hasn’t he invested in?” Youran grumbled slightly, she leaned forward and whispered, “I swear he has the whole city wrapped around his little finger.”

“Please.” I scoffed, folding my arms, “As if Victor would let in the entire city. He would only have the best of the best then leave the rest to wallow.” Youran laughed with such an intoxicating sound that it should be kept in a music box, ready to be played when I needed it. 

“He could be some sort of super villain.” Youran whispered to me as she glanced back at Victor. I bent over next to her ear and away from Victor’s sight.

“Captain Capitalist.” I whispered back. Youran laughed harder, causing a warmth to bubble in my chest and a smile to spring onto my face.

“Alright ladies.” Victor called from the other side of the room, “Time for leisure is over. Youran, you have a report you need to turn in before the end of the week. Ike, we have a meeting.” Youran rolled her eyes.

“Good luck.” She said sweetly to me.

“Thank you.” I said, holding my smile, “Hey, if you need help with that report, you should let me know. I’m pretty good at writing what Victor wants to hear.”

“Really?!” Youran’s eyes became wide with enthusiasm, “That would be great!!”

“Ladies.” Victor urged.

“Sorry!” Youran said, waving to Victor. She turned quickly back to me. “We should continue this later!” She reached in her pocket and pulled out a business card. She handed it to me. “The second number is my cell phone! Text me next time you’re free!” She turned back to Victor and Bart. “Bye! It was nice meeting you!” 

“The pleasure was all mine!” Bart waved happily to her. She turned back to me, gave me one last smile then briskly walked to the door and closed it behind her. I kept my eyes on her, the business card sitting strangely in my hand. She couldn’t have been real. That can’t have happened... Why did she seem so familiar?!

“Wow!” Bart snapped me out of my thoughts. I quickly turned to look at him, catching his teasing expression before it faded.

“What?” I asked, somewhat defensively.

“Nothing! It’s just… I’ve never seen you smile like that with anyone before.”

My breath hitched, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it took us months just to get you to talk! You don’t trust anyone who we bring to the house, and you’re cold to everyone in the office.”

“Yes, Bart. Please keep insulting me in front of Victor. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the encouragement.” 

“But one conversation with her and you’re already smiling!”

My face flushed. “Y-Yeah, well. you’re one to talk!” I stammered, slipping the business card into my blazer pocket and approaching Victor’s desk, “‘You’re the reason I became a producer in the first place!’ She’s like half your age, Bartholomew. Calm down.”

“I’m just saying!” Bart defended, throwing his hands up, “She must be a really neat person if she could pull a smile from you that easily!” I opened my mouth to retort but paused. I was inclined to agree with him. Being with her felt so easy. It was like nothing I had felt before. I wonder why that was…

I cleared my throat. “Don’t we have a meeting to start?” I said, taking on a power stance across from Victor and looking steadfastly at him. Victor had his hand to his mouth, seemingly lost in thought. “...Victor.” I appealed. He snapped to and looked up at me.

“Right.” He said, prepositioning himself in his chair, “Bart, have a seat.” Bart, who was still questionably giddy, sat down in the seat next to me. “First thing’s first,” Victor’s tone had become intensely professional, pulling Bart and me into the same professional mood, “As you can see, Ike, your office has moved.” I looked around. He was right. My desk was gone.

I whistled, “Geez, I didn’t even notice.”

“That was because you were too busy making googly eyes at Youran.” Bart sung.

I snapped my head to face him, “I was doing no such thing!”

“Yes, dear.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Just so you know, Maria and I will support whomever you choose to love.”

“Bart!”

“Focus, you two.” Victor snapped at us, bringing our attention back to him. “You can find your office a couple doors down from mine. It’s close enough to your offices that they don’t have to make too much of a trip to visit you, and yet far enough away for you to get some quiet while you work.”

Bart leaned over next to me, “And I bet if you leave your door open, you can see Youran come and-” Bart suddenly cut off. I looked over to him. He was frozen in place. I quickly looked at Victor. He was already looking at me, expression riding more into dourness then professionalism. We locked eyes.

“It’s also close enough for you to come to me any time you feel as if you are in danger.” Victor’s voice was stern but gentle at the same time, “It’s windowless so you need not worry about another attack. I also put a guard outside your door to stop any suspicious characters from coming in. You should be safe there.” I frowned.

“Didn’t I tell you specifically not to get a bodyguard?” I deadpanned.

“You were pretty quiet in the car.” Victor continued, ignoring my questions, “Are you well? How are your injuries?”

“I’m alright.” I sighed and touched my side out of habit, “I had a friend help me patch up. Though it was harder to work out at the gym with a cracked rib.” Victor’s eyebrows fell into a knot.

“Are you an idiot?” Victor tactlessly barked. I looked at him, clearly taken aback.

“Excuse me?”

“You haven’t even had a full day to recover and you’ve already gone to the gym?!”

“It calms me!”

“How does being in pain calm you?”

I rolled my eyes, “Stop worryi-”

“How can you expect to protect yourself, or anyone for that matter, if you can hardly breathe?” I froze. A sweet smile popped into my mind...

 “...Ok, fine.” I huffed, “I’ll stop going to the gym... For now.” 

“Good.” Victor sounded resolute but something was off about it. I didn’t have time to think about it as Bart finished talking. 

“-go as you please.” I looked over to Bart, shoved his face away, then looked back to Victor.

“Now, for the actual meat of the meeting.” Victor adjusted himself in his chair, “After watching how the both of you run your company this past week, I’ve made two observations. The first being, you two have no control over your employees.” Bart tensed from next to me, “I’ve received countless complaints talking about how your employees have been disruptive in the workplace. From being too loud to leaving messes all over the offices.”

“They're just passionate about their work!” Bart defended.

“Your ‘passion’ is making it hard for LFG’s employees to focus on their own work.” Victor retorted. Bart opened his mouth to speak but I held a hand up to him.

“I’ll have a word with them.” I spoke sternly, “What was your second observation?” Victor trained his eyes on me for a second.

“... There is a potential in this company that LFG would like to underpin.”

Bart and I froze.

>>>

Bart held open the door for me as we stepped out of the office, still in shock. “LFG wants to invest in our company.” Bart whispered to me the moment the door had closed.

“Yup.” I breathed.

“Five hundred thousand dollars.”

“Yup.”

We both stood in silence.

And, as predicted, Bart was the first to break it. 

He started wooping loudly and punching my left arm. “WE DID IT, EVIE!!” He yelled, dancing around the room. “We DID IT!!” Bart continued dancing down the hall, twirling and pumping his fists in the air like a lunatic. I rolled my eyes and walked behind him, heart still bouncing in my chest from the news. Victor actually saw potential in our company. In me. He saw my vulnerable side and didn’t leave. In fact,

He supported it. 

This was all new to me... But, it wasn’t bad. 

I looked out one of the floor to ceiling windows in the hall. It had started raining outside, basking the view of Loveland in a soft gray and cleaning it of what dirt it hid in. I closed my eyes and took in it’s sound against the window as my heart slowly calmed to match the underlying beat of it. 

“Hey, Ike!” Bart called, making me open my eyes once again and turn to him. He was standing in the elevator, holding the doors open for me, “You coming?” I nodded, stealing one last glance through the window.

 I stopped. 

From where I stood, I could see the entrance to LFG where Youran was standing. She looked disgruntled as she looked up at the sky. 

“You go ahead.” My voice drifted softly as I kept my eyes on Youran, “The next time I see the team, I’m going to yell at them for their behavior in the office.”

Bart hissed, “Ah right. Ok! See you soon, Evie!” I nodded lazily as the elevator doors shut.

>>>

By the time I had gotten to the front doors of LFG, Youran had taken a seat on the front steps, resting her head in the palm of one hand and using the other to draw circles on the ground with her finger. I adjusted the grip on the umbrella in my hand and opened the door. Youran’s eyes flashed to me once then landed on me again once she saw who I was. She smiled kindly.

 “Hey!” She chimed, turning to face me better. “It’s Ike, right?” I nodded.

“I thought you had left already.” I said, trying to remain nonchalant. Youran sighed and looked at the rain.

“I didn’t bring an umbrella.” She placed her head back on her hand and pouted, “Even though there was an eighty percent chance of it raining today. Heh, I can be an idiot sometimes.”

“Can’t we all?” I popped open the umbrella in my hand and held it over Youran’s head. She looked at me, shocked. “Come on.” I held out my hand, “I’ll protect you.”

>

Victor watched from his office as Youran accepted Ike’s outstretched hand. She helped the little girl to her feet easily and they both walked down the front steps together. The umbrella was tilted to completely cover Youran’s small body, and, even though Ike’s blazer was getting wet, she didn’t show any signs of changing her position. Victor sighed and shoved his clenched fists into his pockets. “So she does remember her.” Victor spoke to himself as he let his mind wander. Old memories coursed behind his eyes, making his eyebrows furrow deeply.  When the two girls disappeared from his sight, Victor walked to his desk and pulled open a drawer. A folder slid into view. On the tab, in big black letters, it read, 

"BLACK SWAN"

“Perhaps it’s not too late.” Victor lied to himself.

Epilogue:

“S-sir!” Dylan choked, “Sh-she surprised me!! But I got a shot in her! I got her arm!!”

Montu ran to catch up but it was too late. The bike had already driven off and out of sight. They breathed heavily and marched back to the building. Dylan moaned from the floor as he slowly came out of his unconscious state. Montu jumped back into the room, charged over to Dylan, and grabbed his shirt. They raised him in the air as if the six foot man weighed nothing. “What did I say, Dylan?! What did I say about LOSING HER AGAIN?!”

Police sirens cut through the air. Montu cursed. “Sir, the cars.” One of the soldiers pointed out.

“Hit the sewers.” Montu growled, rolling up their sleeves, “I’ll deal with the cars. And lock up this disappointment of a man until otherwise instructed.” The men nodded without hesitation, taking Dylan by the arms. 

“Quit your blathering!!” Montu threw Dylan onto the floor, emanating a loud crack as he landed on his elbow. Dylan screamed and cradled it. “I’ll deal with you further at the base.” Montu spat, glaring distastefully down at him, “And don’t for a second think I’ll let you off as easily as I did before.” Dylan gulped. 

“But it’s true!!” Dylan pleaded his empty case as they dragged him away. “She was hurt when I saw her! I shot the bullet right into her arm!! It stayed there! She was in PAIN!! I SWEAR!!”  Montu removed their mask and rubbed the bridge of their nose, hoping to stifle the rising migraine behind their eyes. 

Unwilling to waste anymore time, Montu focused their attention on the cars. They breathed deeply, creating a rising aura of tense air around them. A soft wind tickled their bangs and brushed the warm blood falling from his forehead. Right as it seemed like something would snap,

Montu raised their hand.

The sound of creaking metal filled the air as each of the cars were lifted from the ground, groaning against the invisible force supporting them.

Montu walked to the window, preparing to leave, when they kicked something on the ground. Looking down, their eyes landed on a tool. 

A grinding tool. 

Pieces of skin were stuck in between it’s blades as drying blood dripped down the side of it. Montu bent to inspect it.

“She was hurt, huh?” Montu’s voice was as smooth as butter as they traced their finger along the tool, “How interesting…”

End of Chapter Four :D

(Next)

[segafan37]

Shadamy Snippets: A Chance Meeting

[Shadow's p.o.v.]

I stared at the cars and people entering and exiting the parking lot. A worker was helping an elderly couple load their groceries. A group of teenagers stood around a car trying to act cool while bobbing their heads to some music. I saw a large mouse family pushing three carts toward the store. Each cart had about 3 to 5 small children inside. The children were all talking at once and playing with each other as their parents and a teen mouse pushed the carts. I then turned my gaze to a red female fox walking back to her vehicle, pushing a cart that held her two little ones: a boy and a girl. The girl was a sky blue, and the boy was a bright orange. They looked about the same age.

Maybe they were twins?

I tried to hold back a smile. I liked being here; listening to the mingled noise of the store, and watching the cars and people go by... The people I was sworn to protect. It was... relaxing. I took a sip of my cappuccino, as I relished these thoughts.

Mmm, that barista girl really knows how to make a GOOD cappuccino!

I took another sip as I viewed the dark clouds in the sky.

Looks like it's going to rain. I guess the weather report was wrong, again!

My multipurpose communicator beeped a reminder.

"Examine Star Case Files"

"Well, back to work." I groaned.

On my motorcycle, it takes me 30 minutes to get back to the hidden entrance of the Mobian's G.U.N. base and the way the weather was looking, I knew that I should probably be heading out now. 

I started rising from my chair, but something inside stopped me. It was like I was glued to my seat. Although, if I was being honest, I'd say I didn't want to go. I looked at my communicator again. The digital clock read 1pm.

"You got more than a half an hour left, Shadow!" I reassured myself. "You can stay for another 15 minutes."

I smiled, snoozed the reminder, and gazed back at the window. I was relieved that I didn't have to head back to work, just yet. I closed my eyes to engulf myself in the sounds of all that surrounded me. 

Car doors slam, horns beep, shopping carts rattle and squeak. Feet shuffle across the floor, children laugh, friends talk about work, love, school, and life. Workers greet, bar scanners beep and chairs glide across the floor. People serve, people eat, people drink, and people speak. 

These people... are why I am here.

I guess I was so entranced in my peace of mind that I didn't hear someone come up beside me. My ears twitched when I heard a female voice say my name. 

"Shadow?"

I opened my eyes and turned my head to see the one and only Amy Rose. 

"Amy?"

Her eyes widened with delight, and mine with shock. It has been over 7 years since I last saw Miss Rose, when we both attended Vector's wedding.

"Amy." I said again.

"Shadow!"

"How have you been!?" We were both surprised that we said it in unison. She kind of yelled it, but I just spoke it.

We laughed a little at ourselves. I stepped off my bar stool, suddenly feeling okay to leave it, and stepped back to get a good look at Amy. She was older, obviously, and had grown to almost reach my eye level. Her iconic red head band was gone and her quills were longer, the ends just reaching past her shoulders. Her dress was different too. It was still red, but was flowy, lacked the white trim, had short sleeves, and rested below her knees. The only thing about her appearance that was the same were her gold bracelets, boots, and white gloves and socks. (However, her socks were no longer rolled up.)

I was kind of bewildered by her new look. I liked it!

"You look.." I paused and gazed her over again "Good! You look good!" My voice had a hint of excitement to it. She smiled and shrugged.

"Thanks! I feel great, actually! And you look...", she paused, looking me over, "Um?.. Good, too!? The same, but good!"

I chuckled sarcastically. "Wow! Thanks! What a compliment! I feel very special. I'm blushing in fact. You can't see it cuz of my dark fur, but it's there!"

Amy blushed. Her back stiffened and her shoulders went up.

"Oh! Shadow, you know I didn't mean it like that!"

Inwardly, I smiled. That's the Amy I know.

"It's just that,.." she continued, "you're the Ultimate Lifeform! No matter the time span, you'll always look the same."

I sighed and gave an eye roll. I knew she was right and wasn't trying to be rude. I was just slightly annoyed, that she couldn't think of something better to say. Was it that hard for people to see that I've changed?

"Yeah, well, I'm not entirely the same." I retorted.

"Oh!?"

"Yeah! For one, I've grown, height and mass wise." I saw Amy give off a weird face.

Why did I say that!?

But I just continued.

"My voice has more base, if you hadn't noticed. And I work now as the Commander of G.U.N."

After Amy heard the last bit, her weird face disappeared and was replaced with a look of disbelief. 

"You're the Commander of G.U.N.?" she slowly asked, pointing a finger at me.

I folded my arms. "Don't look so surprised! I used to be G.U.N.'s top agent, once upon a time!" I said, not hiding my annoyance. I had taken Amy's question as an insult, but her next action proved I was mistaken.

"Shadow, that's incredible! What an honor! You're G.U.N.'s first Mobian Commander!"

I blushed and gave off a small chuckle.

"Yeah, well, with great power comes great responsibility."

Man! That was dumb!

If Amy thought it was dumb, she didn't show it. She just giggled and leaned towards me.

"I see you're blushing!" she teased. "I guess you can see a blush through that dark fur!"

I rolled my eyes and smirked. 

"You got me there!"

She laughed. I looked behind me to see if anyone was listening. Of course, no one was. Everyone was too busy in their own world to care about us. I turned to look at Amy again, who was still in her mocking position. I noticed the 'Sweet Bun' sub and drink in her hands.

She must have came up here to sit down and have lunch.

"Hey, would you like a seat?" I pointed to an empty bar stool next to mine.

She rose to her full height as she spoke, "Oh! Thanks! Probably be best."

Amy placed her things on the bar table and took the seat next to mine, as I returned back to my own.

* * * * * * * * *

[Amy's p.o.v.]

As our conversation went on, I couldn't help but notice that there was a change in Shadow. I already saw the difference. He was balanced. However, speaking with him more made the balance more noticeable, and made me to question.

What has happened to him?

I couldn't put my finger on it! Physically, he looked the same, an attribute I knew came with being the Ultimate Lifeform, and his demeanor was still stern and austere, yet his vibe was more relaxed and... friendly!

As I sat listening to the black hedgehog, with my face resting in my palms, I couldn't help but stare, a bit dreamily. His words became muffled, as I thought more of our past, his transformation, and our friendship. I admired him. 

That's when I decided,

I like him this way!

I didn't notice that Shadow had stopped talking and was looking at me a bit confused and alarmed. I guess he caught me staring at him.

"What!? Is there something on my face?"

"Oh! Uh.. no!.. I", I stammered. I could feel my face grow red. I swallowed and took a breath.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare. It's just..." I trailed off, as I looked into his eyes, "I-I can't help but notice the change in you."

"You mean I'm not as grim or stiff as before." he stated, bluntly.

"Pretty much!" I smiled nervously, " What caused you to be different?"

Shadow furrowed his brows and looked toward the window.

Oh, no! Did I say something wrong!?

"Do you know why I was so grim before?", he asked, still gazing at the window.

Was that a rhetorical question? 

"Well.." I started.

"Because the world was in danger!" he firmly interjected. "Eggman was threatening to conquer the world, and I couldn't rest until he was subdued! These people," he gestured his hand toward the window, "deserve to live in safety and have the chance for happiness. I gave a promise long ago to protect the world, and I will do everything in my power to keep it! So, when Eggman and all his evil was destroyed, I was able to breathe." 

His voice held such determination and passion, that it was inspiring. He turned back to me. His eyes were sparkling once more and he wore a small smile. I refrained myself from giving any dreamy stares. 

I knew he wasn't a cruel being as some perceived him to be.

"And then this is where my study of psychology came in."

"I see, but you still work for G.U.N. Why?" I asked.

"Because the bad guys are still out there. With people like Starline and the Deadly Six wandering about, you can't stop."

"Shadow." I said, thoughtfully.

"Yeah?"

"I like you this way!" I concluded."You've really grown!" He laughed.

"Well, I didn't know my behavior was being quizzed under your 'Self-Improvement Test,.." I started to laugh. He did not just say that! "But I'm glad I passed!", he said with a triumphant smile. 

"I didn't mean it like that!", I protested, giving him a shove. He laughed. "I'm just glad that you've loosened up a bit, so that the world can see the good person that I already saw in you."

Shadow opened his mouth to speak, but then smiled. I smiled back. His red, powerful eyes gazed into mine intently, but I wasn't afraid. They were lovely; the eyes of a dear friend that I had almost forgotten. Another loud beeping interrupted the moment. Shadow looked at his wristwatch and turned it off.

"Work?" I asked.

"Yeah. Duty calls!" Shadow said, as he mounted off his stool and grabbed his leather jacket. I followed suit.

"I should probably head out, too. I don't want to get caught in the rain."

"You think it's going to rain, too!?"

"Of course! Have you seen those clouds!? The weather report is never right!"

He laughed. "True that!"

We walked down the stairs and out of the building, stopping just in front of Kangaroo Kroger's front entrance. A silence fell between us as we turned to face each other.

* * * * * * * * *

[Shadow's p.o.v.]

"Yeah! See ya around."

As Amy turned to walk away, I felt that I had forgot something. But what was it? Before I fully understood what I was doing, I called out to her.

"Welp!" Amy started, breaking the silence. "I'll see you around, Shadow!"

"Amy, wait!"

She stopped and looked at me with concern.

"What is it Shadow?"

I began rubbing the back of my neck as I slowly said my reply.

"Can I... give you a hug?" My arms were outstretched and I wore a sheepish grin, with my head slightly down. I felt kind of stupid asking this when we both were about to leave, but I didn't want to let her go, until we had done this. I saw her face questioning my motives. 

"I don't want to leave without giving you a proper goodbye."

She smiled and answered warmly "Of course!"

We hugged, a short, friendly side hug. I got a whiff of her hair. It smelled nice.

I wonder what shampoo she uses?

"It was good catching up with you, Amy." I said, as we broke from the hug. "I really enjoyed it."

"Me too!" she agreed with a smile. And with that she turned on her heels and waved goodbye. 

"Bye Shadow!"

"Bye Amy! I'll catch you later!"

I didn't know then how true those words would be.

.

.

.

Exsert from Shadamy fanfic "12 Years Later: A New Dawn". You can read the rest of this chapter and more on Wattpad, DeviantArt, Quotev, or Webnovel.

[orthodoxydaily]

Icon, Saints&Reading: Sat, Jan. 2, 2021

FOREFEAST OF THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST_ OLD CALENDAR

Commemorated on December 20_by the new calendar

The Priest Martyr Ignatiuss the God-Bearer (107)

     The PriestMartyr Ignatios the God-Bearer, a native of Syria, was a disciple of the holy Apostle and Evangelist John the Theologian, as was also Saint Polycarp, Bishop of Smyrna (Comm. 23 February). Saint Ignatios was the second bishop of Antioch, and successor to Bishop Evodus, Disciple from amongst the Seventy.      Tradition suggests, that when Saint Ignatios was a little boy, the Saviour hugged him and said: "If ye wilt not turn and be as little children, ye shalt not enter into the Kingdom of Heaven" (Mt. 18: 3). The saint was termed "God-Bearer" since he had the Name of the Saviour in his heart and prayed unceasingly to Him. Saint Ignatios was zealous and spared no efforts for toiling in the fields of Christ. To him is attributed the establishing within church services of antiphonal singing (for two parts or choirs). During time of persecution he was a source of strength to the souls of his flock, and was himself ardent in the wish to suffer for Christ.      In the year 106 the emperor Trajan (98-117), on the occasion of a victory over the Skyths, gave orders to everywhere offer sacrifice to the pagan gods, and put to death any Christians refusing to worship idols. And in the year 107, during the time of a campaign against the Armenians and Parthians, the emperor Trajan happened to pass through Antioch. Here they made denunciation to him that Bishop Ignatios openly confessed Christ, and with this taught to contemn riches, to lead a virtuous life and preserve virginity. At this moment Saint Ignatios himself came voluntarily before the emperor, so as to avert persecution against the Christians in Antioch. The persistent requests of the emperor Trajan were resolutely rejected by Saint Ignatios. The emperor then decided to have him taken away for devouring by wild beasts at Rome. Saint Ignatios joyfully accepted the sentence imposed upon him. His readiness for the deed of martyrdom was attested to by eye-witnesses, accompanying Saint Ignatios from Antioch to Rome.

     On the way to Rome, the ship having set out from Seleucia stopped over at Smyrna, where Saint Ignatios met with his friend the Smyrna Bishop Polycarp. Clergy and believers from other cities and towns thronged to Saint Ignatios. Saint Ignatios exhorted everyone not to fear death and not grieve over him. In his Epistle of 24 August 107 to the Roman Christians, he asked them to assist him with their prayers, so as to beseech God to strengthen him in his impending act of martyrdom for Christ: "I seek Him Who hath died for us, I desire Him Who hath risen for us... My love wast crucified, and within me is no fire loving material things, but rather the living water that speaketh within me, from within calling unto me: 'I go unto the Father'".      From Smyrna Saint Ignatios went to the Troiad. Here he met with the happy news about the cessation of persecution against Christians in Antioch. From the Troiad Saint Ignatios sailed to Neapolis (in Macedonia) and then to Philippi.      Along the way to Rome Saint Ignatios visited churches, and gave discourses of teaching and guidance. He also then wrote six epistles: to the Ephesians, to the Magnezians, to the Trallians, to the Philadelphians, and to the Smyrna Bishop Polycarp. All these epistulary letters were preserved and have survived to our present day.      The Roman Christians met Saint Ignatios with great joy and profound sorrow. Certain of them had hopes to persuade the people to give up on making it a bloody spectacle, but Saint Ignatios implored them not to do this. Bending down upon his knees, he prayed together with all the believers for the Church, for love between the brethren and for an end to the persecution against Christians. On the day of a pagan feast, 20 December, they led Saint Ignatios into the circus arena, and he turned to the people: "Men of Rome, ye do know, that I am sentenced to death not because of any wrong-doing, but in love of my One God, by love for Whom I am embraced and unto Whom I do aspire. I am His wheat and by the teeth of wild beasts I shall be grinded, so as for Him to be a pure bread". Right after this the lions were released. Tradition relates that in going to execution, Saint Ignatios unceasingly repeated the Name of Jesus Christ. When they asked him why he was doing this, Saint Ignatios answered, that he carried this Name in his heart, "He that is imprinted in mine heart, is He Whom I confess with my lips". When the saint was torn to pieces, it turned out that his heart was not touched. Having cut open the heart, the pagans beheld within it in gold lettering : "Jesus Christ". On the night after his execution Saint Ignatios appeared to many of the faithful in their sleep to comfort them, and certain of them saw him at prayer.      Hearing about the great courage of the saint, Trajan thought well of him and stopped the persecution against the Christians. The relics of Saint Ignatios were transferred to Antioch (the account about this is located under 29 January), and again at a later time on 1 February were returned with glory and put in the church named for the PriestMartyr Clement, Pope of Rome (91-100).

Repose of Righteous John of Kronstadt (1908)

Commemorated on December 20 and June 1_by the new calendar

"Saint John of Kronstadt was a married priest, who lived with his wife in virginity. Through his untiring labours in his priestly duties and love for the poor and sinners, he was granted by our Lord great gifts of clairvoyance and miracle-working, to such a degree that in the last years of his life miracles of healings — both of body and of soul — were performed countless times each day through his prayers, often for people who had only written to him asking his help. During his lifetime he was known throughout Russia, as well as in the Western world. He has left us his diary My Life in Christ as a spiritual treasure for Christians of every age; simple in language, it expounds the deepest mysteries of our Faith with that wisdom which is given only to a heart purified by the grace of the Holy Spirit. Foreseeing as a true prophet the Revolution of 1917, he unsparingly rebuked the growing apostasy among the people; he foretold that the very name of Russia would be changed. As the darkness of unbelief grew thicker, he shone forth as a beacon of unquenchable piety, comforting the faithful through the many miracles that he worked and the fatherly love and simplicity with which he received all. Saint John reposed in peace in 1908." (Great Horologion)

All texts© 1996-2001 by translator Fr. S. Janos.

ICON: "Novodvorskaya" named "Rescuer of the Drowning" Icons of the Mother of God

In the village of Lenkov on the bank of the Desno River near Novgorod, Russia, there was a dangerous whirlpool, which made the river difficult to cross. Often, the powerful swirling waters would cause the demise of ships and their passengers. It was at that dangerous site that an Icon of the Mother of God was discovered, resting on the riverbank. In time, a church dedicated to the Mother of God was erected on the site, and the Icon of the Mother of God, the "Rescuer of the Drowning," was enshrined therein. Those who journeyed along the Desno River customarily stopped at Lenkov to offer prayers in the icon's presence, imploring the Mother of God to grant them a safe journey despite the dangerous whirlpool. It had been said that after the icon had been discovered, mishaps to sailors were rare, and later completely ceased.

Lenkov and its church were destroyed during an invasion by the Poles in the 17th century. A new church dedicated to the Archangel Michael soon rose on the site of the former Church of the Mother of God, and the icon was enshrined therein. Many miracles were ascribed to the Mother of God, and the icon came to be revered not only in area of Lenkov, but far beyond, especially in Russia's larger port cities.

In the 18th century, the Icon was transferred to the Monastery of the Transfiguration in Novgorod, where it remained until the Russian Revolution in 1917. History does not record what happened to the miraculous icon during Soviet times. However, in 2003, a pious man named Sergei Babushkin gave to the Church an identical antique copy of the long-lost original "Rescuer of the Drowning" Icon, which was subsequently enshrined in the Transfiguration Monastery, thus marking the beginning of its revival.

The icon is remarkably similar to the much older Korsun Icon of the Mother of God, which was said to have been a copy of an icon by Saint Luke the Evangelist that had been kept in Ephesus until it was brought to Kyiv in 988 AD. Source OCA_ Orthodox church of America

Luke 13:18-29 (Saturday Before the Nativity of Christ))

18 Then He said, "What is the kingdom of God like? And to what shall I compare it? 19 It is like a mustard seed, which a man took and put in his garden; and it grew and became a large tree, and the birds of the air nested in its branches. 20 And again He said, "To what shall I liken the kingdom of God? 21 It is like leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal till it was all leavened. 22And He went through the cities and villages, teaching, and journeying toward Jerusalem. 23 Then one said to Him, "Lord, are there few who are saved?" And He said to them,24 Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I say to you, will seek to enter and will not be able. 25 When once the Master of the house has risen up and shut the door, and you begin to stand outside and knock at the door, saying, 'Lord, Lord, open for us,' and He will answer and say to you, 'I do not know you, where you are from,' 26 then you will begin to say, 'We ate and drank in Your presence, and You taught in our streets.'27 But He will say, 'I tell you I do not know you, where you are from. Depart from Me, all you workers of iniquity.' 28 There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth, when you see Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God, and yourselves thrust out.29 They will come from the east and the west, from the north and the south, and sit down in the kingdom of God.

Galatians 3:8-12 (Saturday Before)

8 And the Scripture, foreseeing that God would justify the Gentiles by faith, preached the gospel to Abraham beforehand, saying, "In you all the nations shall be blessed."9So then those who are of faith are blessed with believing Abraham. 10 For as many as are of the works of the law are under the curse; for it is written, "Cursed is everyone who does not continue in all things which are written in the book of the law, to do them." 11 But that no one is justified by the law in the sight of God is evident, for "the just shall live by faith."12 Yet the law is not of faith, but "the man who does them shall live by them."

[shinsousbedroom]

Plus Ultra! Go Beyond the Screen!

celebrity AU drabble series, 3K~, quirkless actor Midoriya Izuku gets interviewed

[Read on AO3.]

GO BEYOND!

A conversation with Japan’s rising star Midoriya Izuku on standing up on set and off as the next symbol for peace. A GQ Japan exclusive.

By Taneo Tokuda | Correspondent

[Image of Midoriya Izuku, leaning next to a window, his body arched off the wall. His head is tilted up and over towards the camera, the left side of his body illuminated from the light coming in, the right side fading into the shadows. He’s wearing a sheepish grin, tugging at the tie around his neck with a single hooked finger, jacket sliding off his shoulders. He’s wearing Best Jeanist’s exclusive non-denim line, and the monocolor layering of velvets in the lighting make his green hair, red shoes, and tie pop in rich color even more.]

I’d been warned that Midoriya Izuku has no regard for outdated formality. He’s far from callous or jaded — sweet and optimistic are two words often used to describe him — but propriety is something he has never been concerned with.

I’d been warned, but I didn’t understand.

Any journalist who’s worked the entertainment beat for a while knows there’s a cadence every interview follows. The details may change, but there are conventional practices that help an interview go smoothly for both the interviewer and subject, to make the most of a complicated relationship between celebrities and the media.

This interview starts behind the scenes, as most do, with the e-mail I send out to Midoriya’s manager, laying out a request to speak with his charge. The enthusiastic response comes just an hour later and references details from a number of stories I’d written across the entire span of my career.

It isn’t his manager’s response. It’s Midoriya’s.

That was my second warning to assume nothing, but I still stumble into Midoriya’s apartment expecting a clean, contemporary, moderately-sized apartment. It’s rare to host interviews in celebrity homes, and when it happens, it’s meant to be a statement — power, wealth, pride, affected sincerity.

Instead, Midoriya opens the door halfway and apologizes because he moved in recently and there’s still a stack of boxes blocking him from opening it any further. The door handle nearly catches between the buttons of my shirt as I squeeze through the crack. Once inside, I trip over his trademark red shoes and nearly take him down in the process.

He catches me in his arms and says with a wry grin, “Don’t worry, I am here!”

That, of course, is a classic reference to his latest role: All Might. All for One will be a Netflix reboot of the old '80s superhero film franchise that turned Toshinori Yagi into a household name. In a casting coup that stunned fans and industry insiders alike, Midoriya fell into the role shortly after making headlines for saving a life during a villain attack on the set of long-running soap opera The Quirked and the Quirkless. The villain had been looking for Toshinori, and in his absence, grabbed a crewmember hostage. Midoriya attacked the villain despite having no quirk.

Soon after, Toshinori reversed his longstanding refusal to produce an All Might reboot and gave the studio a green light — with a stipulation. Just as the franchise had brought him up from obscurity, so must the franchise fill its ranks with youths aiming to catch their big breaks. Enter: Midoriya Izuku.

Midoriya sets me back down gently — yes, he picked me up when I fell, even though I’m a full half meter taller than him — and I’m more inclined to see his suitability as Toshinori’s successor.

Physically, he still looks nothing like his mentor. Where Toshinori is buff, Midoriya is lean, tall to his short, loud to his soft. Toshinori held his strength in the brash, nigh-cocky attitude that got him into as much trouble as himself as it did in the show as All Might. Midoriya carries strength like woven spider silk; it’s graceful and dangerous, but all too easy to overlook for those unused to subtlety. But he carries the same bright aura of unwavering love and determination.

More to the point, I also felt his arms and abs in the fall, and he may not look like he has the muscles of All Might, but they are definitely there.

“You can take a seat anywhere in the living room if you’d like,” Midoriya says, ushering me down the hall with a light hand on my back. “Breakfast will be ready in just a few minutes, but I haven’t put together the kitchen table yet, so living room it is.”

“Breakfast? Did we decide on a working breakfast?” I replied.

“I couldn’t invite a guest into my home without offering snacks! Since this interview coincides with breakfast, I made breakfast.” He pushes me towards the sofa and wags a finger at me when I try to follow him to the kitchen anyway. “No guests allowed to hover or help in the kitchen. It’s too small!”

The rest of the apartment is half unpacked, and haphazardly at that. Boxes are open, dumped out into piles on the floor where they will likely be permanently placed. I perch on the arm of a ratty sofa by the only portion of the room that’s been set up. It’s a veritable shrine to pro heros, fictional and real alike. Two of the five shelves are devoted solely to All Might merchandise.

Midoriya appears behind me, as if by quirk. “Ah, do you collect hero memorabilia? I’ve been a big fan of All Might since I was little, and then I started following hero society in general when I got into middle school, so I’ve built up a lot over the years especially rare items like if you look at the back corner there’s a particularly cool figure of All Might from the emerald era which if you remember was received so poorly that most of the merch was shelved in one location and subsequently destroyed during a villain attack…” He goes on without end or pause, taking me through the history of each item on the third shelf. At minute six, he abruptly tenses mid-sentence. I can almost feel the heat from his red face as he starts stammering apologies for wasting my time and gingerly puts his collection away again.

“You've got a lot of stuff I haven’t seen. It’s interesting.” It makes me uncomfortable how much he clearly doesn’t believe me. “It’ll be good content, that you have such a long history being an All Might fan.” He shrugs my words aside, and gestures behind me to a giant spread he’d laid out on the coffee table before seeing my interest in his collection.

We sit. For a moment, the only sound in the apartment is the clatter of silverware, the muffled bustle of Tokyo’s streets at midmorning a soothing counterpoint. I’m considering how to break the lingering tension I caused. But then —

“I’m a quirkless soap opera actor who seemingly got the biggest role of the decade for doing something completely unrelated to acting. I’m optimistic, not an idiot.” There’s a taut line to his shoulders again, at odds with the quiet, delicate way he drinks his miso soup.

His eyes trail back to the curio shelf of hero merchandise. A heaviness builds between us in the seconds it takes him to think. “I grew up in a neighborhood hostile to me and my mother. I mumble my thoughts out loud and have an obsession for heroes that edges past societally acceptable as an adult. I have no quirk, she had no husband, we had no money. Any insult you could say about us, I’ve heard it.”

He looks me dead in the eyes and leans forward. I can’t help but mirror him. “It would be disrespectful to everyone who supported me to get here if I let the back talk get to me. I worked hard for this role, and I earn it with every new day of effort I put into it. All Might is the symbol for peace, and I intend to embody that legacy. No one will be able to doubt me when I’m done.”

Anyone who’s familiar with Midoriya’s reputation knows not to be surprised by his humility, but it’s a revelation to see this drive, his earnest focus pinning down my full attention. The last bit of the puzzle that was his casting choice is answered in one overwhelming look. If All for One does it right, his magnetism is going to Detroit Smash every heart in Japan.

“The waffles!” He springs up and mutters his way back to the kitchen, cutting past the moment. “I forgot the waffles, Kirishima gave me a waffle maker the shape of All Might’s crest as a housewarming gift, they’re so cute and surprisingly detailed…” In just a few seconds he plops the plate down amid the overfull table and settles back into his seat with a smile. “So? Should we get started?”

Interview has been edited for length and clarity. For the full article, visit us online. Catch the first season of All for One on Netflix, streaming xx xxx.

[Image of Midoriya Izuku sitting outdoors on some sidewalk steps in workout gear, leaning back on one arm, the other hand raised to cover his face from the sun. He’s wearing bright green short shorts and a very loose tank top, the arm holes cut out so deep that the angle lets the photographer capture the sheen of oil and sweat across his ribs and back as light filters through the shirt. One sock is pulled up taut, the other scrunched down, same classic red shoes still on his feet. His legs and arms and hands are haphazardly wrapped in carefully grimed bandages, as is his makeup, smudges of dirt across his cheeks along with make up to bruise his lips a deep, pouty red. Boxing gloves hang over his shoulders, and a bandana mimicking the famed mouth guard from All Might’s most iconic outfit hangs around his neck.]

TT: Congratulations on your first starring role! How does the move from semi-recurring character to protagonist feel?

MI: It’s a huge challenge, one I’m incredibly excited for! My character in Quirkless wasn’t supposed to be mine. I’d already been involved with the show as a quirkless consultant but one day on set, they’d had a huge scheduling conflict, and Director Ryuko remembered I’d originally auditioned for the show for a character that was ultimately cut. She brought me in as a literal last minute replacement, and soon enough a three-episode run expanded into a semi-regular spot next season. At least with All for One I’ve had tons of time to prepare.

TT: Take us through what it was like getting the role of All Might.

MI: I think the media explained the villain attack that brought me to the studio’s attention plenty. What's more important is when after I recovered, Toshinori-san contacted me and connected me to his talent agency, and my new manager was the one that successfully nabbed me an audition for the new show. They had us go through a few standard readings and chemistry checks, and then I got the part.

TT: You auditioned?

MI: I did! That’s what makes the rumors of favoritism even more frustrating. I promise I didn’t get the role because I stopped a villain attack on set! Well, I hope I didn’t.

[File photograph of Toshinori Yagi and Midoriya Izuku post-hostage situation. The stage is in disarray, black goop covering the furniture and floor of a fake hospital waiting room in a thick layer of sticky slime. They stand off-center in the foreground, Midoriya rubbing a fist over his eye, exhausted, possibly crying, as Toshinori pulls him into his side for a hug. Both have shock blankets draped across their shoulders. Emergency respondents case and clean the scene in the background.]

TT: How does it feel to take up the mantle of one of the most iconic comic book characters of all time?

MI: I’d be lying if I didn’t say nerve-wracking, but I’m more excited than anything. I’ve dreamed about this since I was 5, when the doctors first told me I’d never have a quirk and never be a licensed hero. All that love was redirected toward All Might. Some people might say being too big a fanboy will make playing him hard, but I’ve been preparing for this my entire life, and that’s what I’m trying to hold on to instead of anxiety. Toshinori-san has also been a spectacular mentor to me through this whole process.

TT: It's been said that Toshinori-san implemented a rigorous vetting process to work in any position on the crew. Recommendations, mentorship networks — because everyone is new to film.

MI: That’s only true to a certain extent. I wouldn’t say most of us are complete newcomers; we’ve all been around the industry for a fair number of years making our careers off it one way or another. We definitely wouldn’t have gotten hired to such prominent roles without Toshinori’s interference, yes. Because of his stipulation, the studio wanted to minimize as much of the havoc inexperience might cause such a beloved, big budget reboot by offering us close, mandatory support networks featuring industry professionals who’ve been working in their field for decades.

So far, the idea has really worked out well. We get to implement fun new ideas we don’t realize are impossible yet, and the mentors temper our more […] impractical ideas with logic and experience. The cast also has gotten a lot of support from the old cast of the '80s run!

TT: You’re known for being an advocate for quirkless rights in the entertainment industry. Has that impacted the way you approach your career and what opportunities you take?

MI: It isn’t just the entertainment industry I’m interested in for my advocacy work. Society’s rabid obsession with quirks is a problem across all of Japan, for both the quirkless and those with quirks. But as an actor, I happen to have personal insight with the roadblocks that prevent quirkless individuals from succeeding in film. We make up a fourth of the Japanese population, but less than 1% of the Japanese Film Union, in the mere century from when quirks first showed up across the globe. There’s no other explanation for such a miserly diversity rate than discrimination.

Studios have gotten so used to using quirks to sift through application stacks, looking for who can offer the most with just a quirk name and description. Toshinori-san has easily admitted that the electricity he emits when engaging his strength quirk was one of the reasons he won the role of All Might over better known actor Todoroki Enji. It was one less special effect the studio would have to spend money and time on. Viewing accommodation as a costly complication is historically dangerous to all types of minorities across the globe. How am I supposed to compete when people think I can’t offer anything unique compared to the host of wild quirks out there?

TT: Wow, that’s quite the speech.

MI: I’ve practiced a few times.

TT: Really?

MI: Quirk discrimination was my thesis topic at UA.

TT: You went to UA? That didn't show up in my research.

MI: Oh, I […] was in their support program for a while.

TT: Why did you decide to pursue acting instead? They don’t have a fine arts program, do they?

MI: As much as I love support work, it’s a stressful field. [Laughs] I started looking for an outlet that had nothing to do with hero work when an old friend dragged me onto a set. I’d completely forgotten how much I loved acting, and it wasn’t long before I decided to pursue that over support work, for however long it would have me.

TT: Would you ever consider returning to support work?

MI: Yes, but it gets harder the longer you’ve been away. I still keep up my qualifications, and keep up with my old classmates. Some consulting here and there. But for now, I’m happy using my background to help me act a better All Might.

[Photograph of Midoriya Izuku sitting in an office chair, facing three-quarters towards the camera even as he lays half across a desk. The decor is rich: old, dark wooden furniture, ornate work across the frame of the chair and desk, half-filled bookshelves in the background. His cheek rests against his arm stretched along the edge of the deck; one leg is tucked under the seat and the other is extended out. His outfit is artfully ripped name brand jeans and a tight shirt, color blocked in All Might’s classic red, white, and blue. Tiny figurines of All Might in his various costumes across all his comic book and screen appearances dot across his body as if they’ve climbed across his body, and Midoriya is an Atlas holding the weight of these ideals across his shoulders and arms and legs, a Gulliver tied down and overwhelmed. But his expression is vibrant, determined. Not quite a smile, but nowhere near defeated.]

TT: Does it bother you, having your quirklessness constantly be the focus of your career and identity?

MI: Of course! I’m a lot more than the superpower I don’t have. I’m a pretty private person, but I want to do great things. I want to inspire people, to make everyone feel safe and like they belong. If that means I have to feel some discomfort, it’s more than worth it. I’m a big kid with a therapist, so I’m prepared to balance my needs with those of my career.

TT: I’m not helping, am I?

MI: Like I said, I’ve deliberately opened myself up to that focus when I’ve put myself out there as someone willing to talk about these important issues publicly. You’re not asking anything I wouldn’t expect of any good interviewer.

TT: Speaking of privacy, your co-worker Todoroki Shouto is infamous for his taciturn personality and complete seclusion from the public eye, even during personal interviews. What is it like working with him on set?

MI: I have a bone to pick with you journalists about that! Remember what I was saying about how quirk reputations hurt those with strong quirks as much as those without? Todoroki Shouto is a wonderful person, and I’m so glad we get to work together. But boy, that reputation of his does him a disservice. He’s more than just Endeavor’s son and a powerful quirk. […] He’s his own man with a lot to say — it’s just no one’s asked him the right questions, yet. Once you do, you’ll find he shines brighter than any of the characters he’s played. It’s frustrating to see a good man overlooked again and again in favor of easier topics like a flashy quirk and flashy father.

TT: One last question. Isn’t it a hassle to squeeze past those boxes each day to use the front door?

MI: I don’t use the front door.

TT: Then…?

MI: Wouldn’t you like to know? ■

[rennyforpresident]

Renny’s BBSim: First Boots Week 10

Welcome back to Biiiiiiiiig Brother!

@ashleaevans @bathroom-sand @kaysarswhore @kayysarridha @kelleekim @lahallucinations @maxdoesbb @misshoh @music-obsessednerd @nerdphobic @nomwastaken @pawn2393 @phylisisley @remember-caltoru @rennyforpresident @shaolinbynature

Previously, @phylisisley was blindsided and sent home in favor of keeping her showmance partner, @shaolinbynature. @kaysarswhore had yet another messy HOH reign, but once again, she’s back in jeopardy. Will the Block Destroyers remain strong, or will @kaysarswhore‘s antics finally catch up to her?

It looks like the Block Destroyers will NOT remain strong

@pawn2393 is solely attached to @ashleaevans now. He just feels like he can’t win against either of the two people he’s in an alliance with. He needs to win HOH, and prove that he’s here to play this game too.

Speaking of the HOH competition

Oh look, yet ANOTHER endurance comp. Well, we all know at this point the one person in this house who refuses to do well in a comp, so last place goes to

@kelleekim in the DR: “I have no idea why I can’t win a comp! Maybe if we had something other than stupid endurance comps, I’d be able to take one home!”

After thirty minutes, @ashleaevans and @pawn2393 are talking. Suddenly, @ashleaevans gets distracted and loses his grip

But, seeing his BFF fall, @pawn2393 loses concentration too!

It comes down to @misshoh and @shaolinbynature. Will we see our first ever four-time HOH? Or will someone else finally take control? After just 42 minutes up on the can...

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@shaolinbynature! You have won HOH AGAIN and have earned safety for the week, in addition to the right to nominate two of your fellow houseguests for eviction!

@kaysarswhore talks to @shaolinbynature in the HOH room later that night. 

@kaysarswhore: “You know I’m not winning this. You have no reason to target me because you know I’m losing the whole thing, right?”

@shaolinbynature: “I truly don’t care! I’m tired of your lies, and I want you gone. I don’t even want you to get second or third place. You have to go this week.”

The two end up in a screaming match, until @kaysarswhore storms out of the room, angry that her antics won’t work this time.

At the nomination ceremony, it’s pretty clear what’s about to happen

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@shaolinbynature: “I feel like I’ve made this speech a thousand times before. @kaysarswhore, it is your time. I feel it in my bones. You’re time has come, and @misshoh, if I were you, I’d fight like hell to win that veto. If she wins it, your goose is cooked. This nomination ceremony is adjourned.”

@kaysarswhore: “I’m sick of this!! Why couldn’t she have gone home last week? I just have to win veto and hang on by the skin of my teeth again this week, and then win HOH again my damn self, since @misshoh couldn’t seem to do it.”

@misshoh: “She’s right, I need this veto. At the very least, I need @kaysarswhore NOT to win the veto. I just need peace in this house for once!”

Because there are only six people left, there is no veto selection!

Zingbot is here! He walks in, slaps all of you across the face instead of zinging you, and then demands that you follow him into the backyard for the veto competition. When everyone walks out, it’s a mental comp! Finally, and even playing ground.

Throughout the competition, Zingbot seems meaner than usual. He walks around and gets in people’s way on purpose, he insults people during the competition, and he even starts throwing rotten tomatoes at people!

Zingbot: “Move faster, idiots! This wouldn’t happen if Julie were still in charge!”

A few houseguests fell behind early, and just can’t catch up (I’ll give you three guesses who’s last though)

@shaolinbynature, @pawn2393, and @kaysarswhore all are working feverishly on their puzzles. Who will come out on top. By the skin of their teeth, the winner of this competition is...

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@kaysarswhore! You have won the Power of Veto (I couldn’t make this up I swear @kaysarswhore hacked my goddamn simulator)

Just as @kaysarswhore begins to celebrate, the producers come on over the speaker system in the backyard: “Julie, give it up! Take off the helmet and exit the backyard!”

Just then, Zingbot removes his helmet to reveal that it’s been Julie Chen in disguise the whole time!

Zingbot Julie: “Give me my goddamn show back! You’ll never take me alive!!”

Julie then hops the fence and runs away from the house. The houseguests, all stunned into silence, head back inside.

@kaysarswhore in the DR: “I don’t even care that Julie broke into the house, I won veto!! I made it to final 5!! Against all odds, I am STILL HERE BITCHES!!”

Of course, we know who’s coming off the block. But who’s going up as a replacement nominee? Will it be @kelleekim, the eternal last-placer? Will it be @ashleaevans, the only eligible person who’s won HOH? Or will it be @pawn2393, a former Block Destroyer and current middle-rider?

At the veto ceremony, 

@kaysarswhore: “Because I have vetoed one of our nominations, @shaolinbynature, you must now name a replacement nominee.”

@shaolinbynature: “I feel like this is the point in the game where the going gets tough. So I want to see the tough get going. You’re the closest to @misshoh, and you haven’t felt the taste of the block yet. Sorry, but...

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@kelleekim in the DR: “I’m heartbroken. @misshoh is my BFF in this house, and to lose her now is gonna wreck me. I just hope that I can avenge her going forward, if I manage to stay!”

The nominees are locked, and the houseguests are left to their own devices. In a final attempt to sway people against @kaysarswhore (because this season is truly the season where everyone tries to get out @kaysarswhore and fails), @ashleaevans decided he has had enough.

@ashleaevans, in front of everyone: “Everything bad in this house is because of you! You’re the one to blame for the kitchen fires, for the messy voting, and for the ugly alliances! I’m sick of you, and I hope everyone in this house targets your ass next week.”

@kaysarswhore: “I hope they do! They’ve targeted me every week I’ve been here, I’m not afraid of them. I’ll just win like I always do.”

It seems like @ashleaevans‘s plea is working with the house, and @kaysarswhore‘s allies might finally decide to flip on her.

But we’ll save that for another week. For now, it’s EVICTION NIGHT!

Arisa: “Hello houseguests! Final 6! But soon to be final 5. Tonight, let’s get straight to those speeches.”

@kelleekim: “Hey guys! I just want to say, I’ve loved playing this game with you all and getting to know you, but I don’t want to go yet! I think it’s clear why I should stay over @misshoh: you can always beat me in any comp! Take me to the end as an easy win, I don’t care. Just keep me around!”

@misshoh: “I have fought hard these past 81 days, and I am going to continue to fight hard for the rest of them. I don’t care whether I have to fight here or in the jury house, I’m fighting. Keep me around, and you won’t have to worry about what I’m fighting for.”

Arisa: “Such passion! Let’s vote!”

@pawn2393 decides to officially cut ties with the Block Destroyers, and votes out @misshoh. He knows he can beat @kelleekim moving forward, and desperately wants to win a comp.

@kaysarswhore, on the other hand, still wants her alliance with @misshoh to stay strong. She votes out @kelleekim to keep her ally in the house.

That means that @ashleaevans is the deciding vote. Will she weaken @kaysarswhore‘s grip on the house by voting out her ally, or take out @kelleekim?

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@ashleaevans votes out @kelleekim in a surprise twist. He doesn’t want this floater wild card to make it any further, and feels like @misshoh​ will be easier to convince to cut @kaysarswhore​ later on. @ashleaevans​ really said

Arisa: “When I reveal the name of the evicted houseguest, they will have one minute to gather their belongings, say their goodbyes, and exit the Big Brother house.”

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Arisa: “Come on out @kelleekim​!”

Arisa: “Why are you here!!!??? What made them vote you out over anyone @misshoh​?“

@kelleekim​: “I think @misshoh​ just got in early with the alliances! I went in way more focused on playing with my heart than with my head, and I didn’t want to make too many waves! My strategy was to lay low and not be threatening, but unfortunately, that came back to bite me in the ass when people voted me out for it!”

Arisa: “How are you making your jury vote decision? What criteria are you going by?”

@kelleekim​: “I’m voting for whoever took me out tonight! I only want to lose against the winner. And @misshoh​, love her to death!”

Arisa: “It was great having you back with us! We’ll see you back here on finale night when you cast that vote and help crown a winner.

Only two more evictions until finale night! What could possibly happen next? For now, from outside the Big Brother house, I’m Arisa Cox, and remember, someone is aaaaaaaaalways watching!”

@kelleekim​ I have NO IDEA how you’re sitting here evicted, but ur under the radar game is iconic in every sense of the word! As I write this I have no idea who wins, but I am SO ANXIOUS to find out who’s gonna take it all

[girlactionfigure]

A farmer's daughter, she was "born in White Sulphur Springs, W.Va., when Woodrow Wilson occupied the White House and rotary dial telephones were still brand-new," according to the Washington Post. Her mother was a former teacher and her father, aside from being a farmer, also worked extra jobs as a janitor. Her father, Joshua Coleman, had quit school after the sixth grade. But, "considered education of paramount importance for Katherine and her older siblings . . . Since the local schools only offered classes to African Americans through the eighth grade, he enrolled his children in a school that was 125 miles away from their home." "As an African American and a girl growing up in an era of brutal racism and sexism, [she] faced daily challenges. Still, she lived her life with her father’s words in mind: “You are no better than anyone else, and nobody else is better than you,” according to Junior Library Guild. “I don’t have a feeling of inferiority. Never had. I’m as good as anybody, but no better,” she said. "Career options for black women were limited at the time," according to the Charleston Gazette-Mail. After majoring in mathematics and French, she decided she "was going to be a math teacher, because that was it,” she said. “You could be a nurse or a teacher.” She married, left her teaching job and enrolled in a graduate math program, becoming the first African-American woman to attend graduate school at West Virginia University . When she got pregnant, however, she quit to focus on her family. In 1953, she accepted a job as a research mathematician. At a very young age, Katherine, says she counted everything. “I counted the steps. I counted the plates that I washed.” And, “I knew how many steps there were from our house to church.” In her job, she had to overcome racism and sexism, but she would eventually make a name for herself. In one of the most important projects, she would be called to verify some calculations. "Get that girl," astronaut John Glenn said. The rest is history. Katherine Johnson had arrived. Margot Lee Shetterly, author of "Hidden Figures: The Untold True Story of Four African American Women who Helped Launch Our Nation Into Space," stated, "So the astronaut who became a hero, looked to this black woman in the still-segregated South at the time as one of the key parts of making sure his mission would be a success." "For more than 30 years, [Katherine] Johnson worked as a NASA mathematician at Langley Research Center in Hampton, Va., where she played an unseen but pivotal role in the country’s space missions. That she was an African American woman in an almost all-male and white workforce made her career even more remarkable," according to writer Victoria St. Martin. "For many people, especially African Americans, her tale of overcoming racism and sexism is inspirational." "Her work was instrumental to some of NASA’s most important missions, including the flight of Alan Shepard, the first American in space, and the Apollo 11 and 13 missions to the moon," according to the Los Angeles Times. When Neil Armstrong took his first step on the moon in July 1969, many Americans did not know that Katherine Johnson had calculated the trajectory for the Apollo 11 flight to the Moon and was even given, along with her fellow team members, a souvenir flag that made the trip with Armstrong and his crew. She remained a "hidden figure", however, until Shetterly wrote her book, which eventually became the movie, “Hidden Figures”. Shetterly explained "the reason Johnson and her co-workers’ stories were 'hidden' was complex. Some of it was rooted in racism (the African American women were relegated to a separate office), some of it was sexism (calculations were considered “women’s work”), and some of it was simply that Johnson and her co-workers were wives and mothers as well as mathematicians." In 2015, Johnson was presented with the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the Nation’s highest civilian honor - given to individuals who have made “especially meritorious contributions to the security or national interests of the United States, to world peace, or to cultural or other significant public or private endeavors.” President Obama noted, “Black women have been a part of every great movement in American history — even if they weren’t always given a voice.” Most will think of this in the context of the civil rights movement, where black women helped plan the March on Washington, but were largely absent from the program, or perhaps even in the fight for women’s rights, from suffrage to the feminist movement. Very few, however, may know the role that women, particularly women of color, have played as innovators and leaders in the domains of science and technology." "Johnson’s recognition by President Obama marks a proud moment in American history because until recently, Johnson’s critical technical contributions to the space race were largely unknown to the world. The contributions and leadership of countless scientific and technical women and people of color who have been tremendous innovators have been left out of American history books, unfortunately," according to Knatokie Ford, Senior Policy Advisor at the Obama White House Office of Science & Technology Policy. In 2016, a new building was named after Katherine Johnson at the Langley Research Center in Hampton, Virginia, then renamed the Katherine Johnson Independent Verification and Validation Facility in 2019. “I am thrilled we are honoring Katherine Johnson in this way as she is a true American icon who overcame incredible obstacles and inspired so many,” Jim Bridenstine, the administrator of NASA, said. The New York Times said that Johnson's fight for equality in the workplace increased awareness and called her a trailblazer. "Johnson was integral to developing human spaceflight in America," according to Scientific American. She was "an unstoppable force and a role model to young African-American women." Johnson, Shetterly said, “has given us a way to shine a light on a lot of women who have not been talked about. None of these women really got the recognition they deserved and .?.?. now an entire group of women are being recognized for the work that they did.” "Her father’s determined effort to send his children to school and her own resolution to pursue her dreams overcame race and gender discrimination and led to an extraordinary life of personal fulfillment and professional achievements," according to Visionary Project. Johnson, born on August 26, 1918, turned 101 last year. She published her autobiography, “Reaching for the Moon,” for young readers last year. “I want young people to feel the same way when reading my story,” she said. “I want them to see that it doesn’t matter where you came from, what you look like or what your gender is. You’re no better or worse than anyone out there and there’s nothing you can’t do as long as you put your mind to it. You can be a doctor or a lawyer or even help put a person on the moon.” Katherine Coleman Goble Johnson remembers as a young girl when she had to travel to an area known for its racism. Her mother would warn her. Not afraid, young Katherine responded back, “Well, tell them I’m coming.” After "a half-century, six manned moon landings, a best-selling book and an Oscar-nominated movie," Katherine Johnson is no longer a hidden figure. [Photo from Makers]

The Jon S. Randal Peace Page

[oh-boleyn]

katherine / infamy

words: 4880, one shot, language: english

anne / jane / katherine / catherine

TW: there are suicidal thoughts, slutshaming, victim guilt, minor ways of self harm, nightmares and some other things.

this turned to be a character study rather to any other thing but oh well, it's done

the commentary between scenes are things I got from internet about Katherine Howard.

Katherine Howard was just an attention seeker.

(…)

When they first arrived at the twenty-one century, Katherine Howard felt alone. It was a whole new world; one she didn’t have a clue of what was it about. Didn’t even have the advantage of knowing other women, except for Anna of Cleves, the only one she met during her short time as queen when they shared a dance, but nothing more.

The rest of them were just rumours while she was in court. Names nobody dared to say. Histories without faces, blurry memories. All of them carried themselves as queens. All of them except her, who was just a frightened nobody in the middle of five of the most powerful and celebre queens.

(…)

Katherine Howard was a silly flirt who actually did sleep around even after she’d married the king.

(…)

They had all been thrown into a small house. With thin walls, two bedrooms, loud queens and just one bathroom. She shared room with Anna of Cleves, this royal Germany queen who was the second divorcee, and Anne Boleyn.

A cousin she never really had the chance to meet, since Henry decapitated her when Katherine was still young. Anne Boleyn, her famous, notorious cousin, a mystery to this new world. Anne was perfect, smart, pretty, even her reincarnated version had the long dark brown hair and big curious eyes. She knew about politics, debate, could talk fluently in English and French.

In the new world, Anne Boleyn was an icon. A notorious woman who got beheaded because of her opinions and incapacity of keeping quiet was something admirable today, and everyone loved her, as the French court once did.

The opinion about Katherine was not the same. Not then, and not now. She was a traitor before, and now she was a naïve who couldn’t even save her own life. A foolish, provocative girl who warmed her way into the king’s bed, and other beds too. She didn’t have a legacy, didn’t left anything to be remembered.

(…)

Katherine Howard: Whore or Victim?

(…)

Money and finances were not something she was interested. She wasn’t good with numbers, Francis always said that. About how she was so lucky to be so pretty, or else nobody would want her as a secretary. With the years she had been discouraged to keep trying, so she just stopped.

Not every woman had been made to be good with it. Katherine considered herself more of a pretty face, rather than someone with a great intellect. It felt shallow, now more than ever. Her life was just like that, being a pretty face, smile, conceal emotions. She was raised by her step-grandmother to please. Emotion were not needed when trying to grant pleasure to someone else.

The other queens weren’t like her. And maybe that’s why they were so worried about making money or getting jobs.

The great salvation came by Catherine’s hand. Catherine Parr, not Aragon. Rewrite their histories, if everyone could make money out of it, why not them? It could be a way to reclaim what happened to them, set the record straight, be view as the real queens they were, not just six who banged the same guy.

(…)

Katherine Howard – The Material Girl?

(…)

“Catherine, almost moved into a nunnery, and then not.” Her voice sounded snob, trying to mock the other queen. “That could almost be really hard for you.” She concluded with a fake pout.

Her heart was beating faster every second. She was never good at arts.

Even when trying to please Manox, her first music teacher, he always wanted more. She could always be better, greater. It was never enough, no matter how high her voice went while singing, or how many times she practiced dancing, or how much her hand aches after playing one instrument for hours, she was not enough.

Not enough like the air in her lungs while performing. The rest of the group were natural, delivering their lines perfect, playing with the silences making it enjoyable and funny. But she wasn’t like that, she talked way too fast, pronounced words unintelligible and forgot that she had talk.

The musical, a fake competition, didn’t help her. It didn’t bring her release, or peace. Katherine felt always numb, there was no connection between what she was doing and her own story. Her past life just felt like a numb blurry dream.

(…)

Katherine Howard, a slut 17-year-old queen who was beheaded for being a slut!

(…)

It came to Katherine attention how much Catherine (of Aragon) hugged Catherine (Parr). They were usually together, helping or making each other’s hair and make-up. She knew Cathy was Catherine’s goddaughter, but the physical affection takes her by surprise anyway.

The idea of touch being something soft, delicate was so out of her range. Her father was bed-ridden and her mother died while she was young. After that everyone was rough. For the Duchess, touch was only a way of punishment. Katherine sometimes saw the ghost of bruises she would have when she didn’t behave like a lady, when her feelings were shown.

Touching was never something appreciated after that.

(…)

Manipulative, flirty seductress.

(…)

The show was doing well, so well that they bought a new house.

New is a way to say, because it’s old, really old. It needs to be fix, the stairs crack, it is too cold, and there are leaks in the bathroom. But it’s bigger, and each one of them get a room or something like that. Catherine Parr takes the basement, and Anne takes the attic. Anna decides to stay on the only bedroom that is on the first floor. And now Katherine is stuck between Aragon and Seymour.

The room feels impersonal, and Katherine is going crazy trying to make it feel more like her. She paints it, buys a carpet, a desk. When all of it fails, she starts pinning fanart to her wall, photos with Anne and Anna, tickets of plays and movies they attended. She is trying to make new memories but it doesn’t work, it feels like she is just pretending. As if she stole a life. It feels numb and impersonal.

An empty room could be a good metaphor for an empty brain. God knows she had never been bright.

(…)

The Tudors Season 3 episode guide says “As Henry presses for an end to his new marriage, a new sexual conquest emerges – young prostitute Katherine Howard”

(…)

“Kitty, I bought new chokers.” Anne says one day, entering her room.

Katherine doesn’t like buying new necklaces or chokers, maybe because she feels them dreadful. Still she wears them every day. The scar around her neck is a darker colour than her skin, resulting in a brownish tone to it. It looks grotesque. Internet, that magic source of information calls is a hypertrophic scar, thick and raised injured skin.

“Great.” She responds, smiling.

“I thought you might like the pink ones, after all you wear a lot of pink.” She started passing Katherine pieces of electric and baby pink fabric.

“And you wear a lot of green.”

“What can I say? It’s my brand.”

“Are you okay, Annie?” Katherine asks when she notices Anne does not have her usual energy.

“Yes, just Aragon getting on my nerves.” Boleyn sits on her bed. “I’m sure she hates me. It’s not news, we been knew for like, I don’t know, five hundred years. But I hoped it would change.”

“I’m sure she hates me too.”

“Why would you say that KitKat?” Anne frowns. “Did she say something to you?”

“No, but I’m sure she is not too fond of me. Mary wasn’t.”

The look in her cousin’s face does something to her stomach, twisting it. Anne loves her, and Kat knows she does. She uses pet names with her, and calls her Kit, or Kitty or variations of it. Anne tries to protect her. But Katherine knows she doesn’t deserve any of it. Why would she?

Even when she is trying her best, Katherine can’t love Anne back that easily. It doesn’t come natural to her. Giving her love to someone never resulted in anything good. Honestly, it resulted in death. She feels guilty about not reciprocating, but it’s the best way to keep the other queen safe.

“I love this pink.” She tries to change the conversation.

(…)

Michael Hirst describes her as a “Lolita figure”.

(…)

Not even in court, where nothing was private, and people would get into anyone’s problems, people had so much opinions. Nowadays, with social media and phones, everybody had a word. Parr said something about it, about Warhol and how we imposed the new “five minutes of fame”. Social media helped to convey that.

While she was dead, people made up their minds about her. It would be nice to say that they found her just to be someone trying their best, but for the most part it wasn’t. They described her as this femme fatale. A sexually active, young woman, who seduced a whole court.

Five hundred years later, she was still nothing more than a common harlot.

The movies, and TV shows helped with it. Always naked, disposed to just fuck. A toy. A possession. The king’s favourite flower.

Katherine couldn’t be really mad about it, because that was all about her. Even her solo was about how she was the ten among these three. Aragon was the faithful wife, Boleyn the witch who made England break the church, Seymour the one he truly loved, Cleves the great queen of the castle, Parr the feminist writer.

Katherine Howard was the pretty one.

There was no personality to it, just a pretty face that happened to be compared with real queens. Of course, she would never win.

(…)

A nymphomaniac.

(…)

The first time she doesn’t feel drugged or numb comes after a show.

They were just heading out, tired out of their minds. Katherine just felt tired, as always. With that voice in the back of her head telling her how she was weak for not giving more every performance.

A man took her by the wrist, and a wave came from it. Her whole-body getting tense. It comes from her wrist, all through her arm, to her shoulder, finally getting to her neck. And now she can’t breathe. His hand is still there, firm, while she is trembling.

It could have been hours, or minutes, or seconds, but her mind was panicking and racing. She couldn’t seem to hold on to a thought, instead everything became overwhelming, a dizzy feeling. Her body not responding her calls.

“Kitty, can you hear me?” A voice quietly talks. It must be Anne; she is the only one who calls her that.

“We should take her inside.” Another voice speaks. “It’s not safe here.”

“Outside air can help, Jane.” She starts focusing in what the queens are talking. “Kat?”

She manages to break the amount of nervous on her and starts breathing heavy, as if she just ran a marathon.

“I’m okay.”

She sounds raspy, more tired than before if it was even possible.

“Can we go home?”

Parr gives her a hand to take and stand up, but she refuses and decides to stand up by herself. Instead of going to Anna’s car as she would usually do, she heads to Aragon’s, sitting in the passenger seat, making sure to set distance between her and the other queen. Luckily nobody makes questions, and Parr rides with Cleves and Boleyn, so the car is not packed.

(…)

A girl whose only education was into how to please a man.

(…)

She didn’t think it was possible, but it gets worse.

Now, instead of feeling nothing, she feels too much. Way too many bad things. She feels something raw coming from inside of her. It’s so sad, it’s eating her from inside. Her limbs are so tired, but now she can’t sleep. There are nightmares keeping her awake.

It results that feeling was not good after all.

But at least, it makes her feel alive.

After a night full of nightmares, she would just go to the kitchen and serve herself, and usually Cathy Parr, a cup of coffee. If it wasn’t enough, another cup wouldn’t do any harm. She sometimes drank energy drinks if her first cup was not even of a little help, but tried not to rely on them. It was not healthy.

The rest of the queens didn’t bring up what happened, nor her new sleeping habits. Anne would shoot her concerned looks, but nothing outside that. No words.

She must not care. Katherine thought. She knows I’m Katherine Howard, too idiotic to even be sad.

She managed. Pretended to be happy, to have energy. To be oblivious.

(…)

A reckless fool.

(…)

“Jane, just stop it, okay?”

They were alone in the theatre, the rest of the queens were heading out to a bar, instead Seymour and Howard were going home. Katherine was just so tired after just two hours of sleep, and Jane simply didn’t liked bars as much as the rest of them.

“It’s cold, put on a coat or something more, you will catch a cold.” She tried to give the teenager her pink sweater, but all she got was rejection.

“Just don’t.” Katherine bitted her lip, but couldn’t help herself and snapped. “Stop acting as if I’m a child.”

“You are nineteen.” Jane stated.

“I am like five hundred years old.” There was bitterness in her voice. “Nobody cared about me being nineteen when the king beheaded me. They didn’t even care when I was younger, why now?”

“Because I care about you.” The blonde tried to look for Katherine’s eyes, but she was too focused on the ground.

“You shouldn’t.”

There were just too many connotations to what she was saying. She felt trapped inside her own mind, a mind that was useless. As long as she looked pretty, nobody should care about anything else. It was more than enough. Feelings were too complex and ended in tragedy, and whoever cared for her would have to see her downfall.

If she didn’t take them down with her.

After all, Thomas cared. Or so he said.

(…)

Cold, calculating and ambitious.

(…)

The nightmares would just not stop, even as much as she tried.

She would just wake up, agitated and breathless, with the images still going through her mind, even when her eyes were open looking to her bedroom celling.

Katherine tried all the things internet said about sleeping without nightmares. Don’t sleep on her stomach, drink something warm first, try to be warm. Nothing worked. It just got worse and worse, to a point were her still shaken up body would not response once she was awake, instead looking at dark figures that painted the walls in her room.

Internet calls it parasomnia, she calls it her brain just can’t seem to work properly.

It’s one night when after an episode she hears a knock on her door. Heavily moving aching muscles, she opens it, revealing Aragon with a bag of crackers.

“I heard you were having a nightmare.”

Katherine lets her in.

“Why the crackers?” She asks, while sitting back on her bed.

“They say that if you talk about a nightmare without eating something first, it will become true.”

She offers one to Katherine, who accepts.

“I am not sure it was a nightmare.” She takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk about it either.”

They fall into a not so comfortable silence.

“Why are you awake?” the teenager asks.

“Nights are a hard time for me. I can’t close my eyes without a memory appearing. Tonight, is Mary.”

“I remember things about her.”

“I do too. I still can remember when she was a baby, you should have seen her. Her hair was so soft, and her skin looked like porcelain. Like a doll, too perfect to be real.”

“I wasn’t even born when she was a baby.”

Aragon laughs unpredictable. “You got me there.” Her face turns darker. “I can’t wrap my head about the things she had done. What they say about her. Bloody Mary, a ghost story. She was just so kind before.”

“Life in court can change you.” Katherine establishes. “Those were other times; other things were allowed. Things people now would consider monstrous.”

“No, that is still no excuse.” Catherine smiled even with eyes full of tears. “I won’t keep you up any longer, there’s no need for it.”

“You can stay here.” Katherine spoke before thinking. “If both of us have problems sleeping, it might be good to be together.”

It becomes a thing, when they heard the other one was up, they would get a bag of crackers and go to the other room. Spending nights talking about meaningless things, trying to take their minds out of dark places.

Katherine discovers Aragon knows a lot of history, things that people have already lost, or that she never heard of. Spanish proverbs and idioms, details of her time as queen. It becomes their night time stories. Talking about the older queen’s past but never about the younger. There is something so appealing for Katherine about history, a curiosity she didn’t knew she had inside her.

It helps.

(…)

It is easy to see Katherine as a spoilt child, a child saying “I want, I want…” all the time and sticking out her bottom lip and sulking if she didn’t get her way.

(…)

Anna is objectively pretty. She doesn’t have the fine gestures of Aragon, or elegancy as Parr. She doesn’t have striking green eyes like Anne. But Anna is still attractive. Full lips, dark skin, and short hair. She chopped it off as soon as they landed to the modern times, and never let it long again.

Anna was also the only one who could remember her time as queen.

Still she doesn’t talk about it, she just ignores history all together. Cleves is great at support, noticing when they are tired and buying stuff for make them feel better.

They are friends, or so she thinks, still there is a lot that is out of the line. Things they never talk but all of them know. About her own past as queen, how Jane’s actions have led to Anne getting beheaded, about Parr’s implications with Elizabeth.

Katherine wonders if they had Googled her. If they have seen the show made about Henry. She is afraid because nobody talks about her truth, is either morbid retellings on how she was abused, on how they pimped her way into Henry’s arms, or about the teenage, spoiled brat she was.

Kat doesn’t think she is either of them. She is not just someone they used to climb their way into court, nor just a teenager who had everything she ever wanted.

Maybe she is something in the middle, constructed by pieces of it. Just pieces because she knows she is not whole; she is breaking beyond repair. Every day it passes it’s another piece, another fragment missing. A nightmare long forgotten; a night lost from her mind.

A rose without a thorn was unnatural after all.

(…)

No other wish but his.

(…)

Katherine realizes her costume is the smaller one, and not only talking about size.

She sometimes feels exposed, and wishes for pants or a better skirt, but the costume designer assured her it was better that way, to play the seductress and then surprise the audience with her real story.

Whore or victim, no in between.

At least she loved pink.

“Kitty, you ready?” Anne asked.

They were at a big studio, and their performance was going to be on TV. All the queens were so anxious the house was as loud as ever, even at night.

“I’m a little bit scared.” She admitted, punishing herself for admitting that.

“Don’t be, you do perfect every night, today is just one more day.”

Emotions fills her for a moment. And it’s not as usually the horrible, dreadful feeling, but rather a warm one.

“I love you Annie.”

Her heart is beating fast, fearing rejection by her cousin. Instead Boleyn hugs her, procuring not to squeeze her in any way she might panic.

“I love you even more Kitty.”

They stay for a while. It’s been hundreds of years since the last time someone hugged her and talked about love. But it felt real. A family bond that she never thought she could have again.

“Now, get prepared, you are going to kill it tonight.”

(…)

Had many characteristics of a juvenile delinquent, who was spoiled, fawned upon, and flattered.

(…)

Jane is the first one to start seeing a psychologist.

She has a survivor’s guilt, even when she was the one who died. But it was honest that she was also the one who came back. Katherine wants to help, but doesn’t know how. Dying is easier when you wish for it. When you leave no one behind.

“How was therapy?” Kat asks when Jane gets home after the first session.

“It’s good, I think. Talking about it was like releasing a breath I didn’t knew I was holding. I know there is still a lot to work on, but I feel like it is a good decision.” She smiles. Jane lets her hand in the table, offering it to the teenager without a word. She takes it. “Thanks for asking, Kitty.”

“Can you not call me that?” Katherine pleads, giving Jane’s hand a little squeeze. “Annie calls me that, and I like it being a thing with her.”

She knows it’s cold to just say that, but Anne has been the only one to call her that. From the moment they arrived, while everyone called her Katherine, for her cousin she was Kitty. It gave her a feeling of comfort, of belonging to a family. Boleyn was her family.

“No problem, we can look for another nickname.” Jane smiles. “I want to bake cookies, what do you think?”

(…)

Could this ‘whore in the bedroom’ really be a virgin?

(…)

“Are you okay, Catherine?” Kat asks.

The survivor was still in the kitchen, even when it was past midnight. Her face was slammed on the table, illuminated by the cold light of her notebook.

“Yes, just can’t seem to get this done.” She straightens her spine.

“What is it about?”

“Just about Spain history, and the colonies.”

“Can I read?”

“Yes. I will make tea.” Parr handles the computer to the fifth queen.

Catherine takes two mugs, and chooses peppermint tea for them both. When the water is hot, she serves it, and takes the sugar to the table.

“It is good, really.” Howard says.

“I can sense a “but”.” Catherine laughs.

“You are only taking one side; you should know how Spain sent a lot of people from the church on missions to re-educate the natives. Las misiones Jesuitas. Politics and religion were more connected than what this make it look like.”

“That’s… Very true. I didn’t know you were interested in history.”

Kat can feel her face getting redder and warmer, embarrassed.

“It’s great, if you ever want to work together, you know where to find me.”

Work. Work together.

The teenager is not sure about how to react.

(…)

If only she had been willing to put her pride and title aside, (…) she may have lost her title as queen but kept her head.

(…)

When she realizes how much her life had changed, it’s more than half a year since they arrived.

There is still something obscure, twitching inside of her. The voices of a million ghosts, and even more people now with their opinions.

Researching history with the first and the last queen helps her. She starts noticing the changes in the discourses, how things that could be empowering before now are just mere normal things. The idea of a part of history she missed is attractive, and she spends hours on Wikipedia and blogs before talking to Parr about trivia facts she finds of the years they were dead.

The house gets better by the time. Having it painted, changed the plumbing, renewed the stairs. It also gets better with them, slowly growing into a group, learning how to deal with each other.

It’s slow, but it gets better.

(…)

I have to conclude that Catherine was incredibly stupid and foolhardy.

(…)

Katherine decides to start therapy. Jane talks highly of how it affected her, how she resolved so many things about her past. And the youngest queen just wants that, to be liberated, to step out of her own shadow.

At first therapy was good, having a chance to talk about her feelings, about living with people who were totally strangers. Adapting to a new world. Having a cousin. It all comes easy, it’s just the way it is. It gives her a short feeling of release, of being liberated, but it always quickly vanishes.

Not everything can always be smooth sailing in her life.

“What is a child?” Her psychologist, a woman in her middle thirties asks.

“A child?”

“Yes, what do you consider a child?”

“A really young human, I guess.”

It’s a weird question, and she feels as if she was being interrogated. That is what exams must feel like.

“I can’t really remember a lot from my childhood.” Katherine starts. “It’s just things. My mother died when I was five. I loved dancing; my father let me study it. I was never good at important things, such as math or music.”

“Why you weren’t?”

“I’m not sure. Manox always told me how I wasn’t enough, how I should try harder and be better. Francis was also like that, telling me to be quiet, to please. My grandmother also was like that, wanted all of us, the ladies to be better.”

She waits, thinks how to continue.

“I think what I always wanted to do was to make them proud, to be always better. I wanted to be liked, just that. I thought that if I was better my father was not going to leave me in a place full of people I didn’t know.”

Katherine can feel herself thinking again, trying to put her thoughts into words once, and once again.

“Why do you do this to yourself, Katherine?” Her psychologist watches her straight to her eyes. “Why are you hiding things for me? You think, and think, and think again, trying to control what your saying, how you move, how you act. I can’t judge you, and I won’t. You need to be real here, or else therapy is not going to help.”

“When I was real, I died.” Tears are streaming down her face; a pout is there and she doesn’t want to look so much like a child, but she feels small.

“Were you real? Why did you love him?”

(…)

She must have had rocks in her head.

(…)

It takes time after that, to really open up.

It takes even more time to notice that a lot of her thoughts weren’t hers, but rather thoughts she had attached herself to. It becomes difficult to realize that she is made of other people’s opinions. That she is just a victim of an adult game. It doesn’t come easy, and when it comes, it breaks her.

It breaks her to the core, to a point she is not sure how to act because that’s all she has ever knew.

(…)

Katherine had been shameless. She had been deceitful. But that was all.

(…)

Anna is there when she gets back from one therapy session.

“How was it today?” Cleves asks.

“Was I just a child?” Katherine returns a question.

“Explain that, please.”

The queen who lived the longest makes the youngest sit on the couch.

“Was I just a child when I arrived to court?”

“You were. You were so young and knew so much about things I couldn’t even imagine.”

“I thought I was an adult.”

“That’s what older people want to make you believe to manipulate you. “You are wiser”, “Too mature for your age”, “You know better than others”.” Katherine is trembling, but that doesn’t stop Anna. “They made you believe you were ready so they didn’t have to live with their own guilt. But you are just a victim.”

The teenager starts crying, and Anna hugs her.

“I thought it was my fault.” She admits. “I thought it was me.”

(…)

There is so much that is not known about her that I am still thinking of all the ideas that people have suggested.

(…)

Dealing with trauma is not easy. Katherine slowly learns to manage. Sometimes is harder, when breathing exercises are too much for her panicking brain, or when nightmares can’t seem to stop. But she still gets out of them, learns not to blame herself.

She learns to be loved. Truly love. Not to fear emotions.

Katherine gets mad, and forgives, taking matters into her own hands. She learns to be young, to be carefree.

She learns to unlearn everything she knew, to question other people opinions about herself to the point she knows who she is, and can’t bring herself to care what an history book or some random person on internet has to say.

It’s hard, but she learns to own and embrace who she is.

[a-student-out-of-time]

How much did you tell Chiaki? Did you tell her about class 77-B's fate, the future foundation, or the killing school life?

So...what exactly is the Tragedy? What happens at Hope’s Peak? 

You might wanna sit down for this one.

_______________________________________________________

“A lot of things happened leading up to it, one of them being the deaths of Natsumi and Honami. From there, a lot of the wrong people ended up in the wrong places at the wrong times.”

“That includes me. That project the Steering Committee tried to get me to agree to? It would’ve turned me into what they thought would be the Ultimate Hope for mankind, dumping every talent imaginable into my head. Instead, it turned me into a man with everything human removed: emotions, thoughts, feelings, hobbies, and memories. All that was left was Kamukura Izuru.”

“But that’s not the worst part.”

“The one behind this whole thing? The one who took advantage of all this chaos? She’ll be a member of Class 78 next year.”

“Enoshima Junko, the Ultimate Despair.”

Chiaki: Ultimate Despair?

“She might seem like this friendly, charismatic fashion icon, but she’s really a lunatic who gets off on causing pain and misery, even to herself. She’s chronically bored and starts chaos just to make her life interesting. That’s why she decided to end the world.”

Chiaki: She was bored? That’s...that’s it?

“She also wanted to show the world how despair is this all-consuming, chaotic force that...I don’t know. I can still barely understand what her motives are, if she has any. What matters is, she starts the whole thing with help from her sister, Ikusaba Mukuro.”

Chiaki: Just the two of them?

“Well...no. They had help. They got the secrets about what was happening behind the scenes at the school out to the public, which started a huge demonstration from the Reserve Course. They went around secretly killing people, and also...found some allies.”

Chiaki: Who...?

“Us.”

“She brainwashed us, twisted us, made us into her personal cult utterly devoted to her and her beliefs. Causing despair, chaos, death, destruction, and every crime you can possibly imagine. We did it all to our friends, our families, even to ourselves. Thanks to us, the Tragedy wasn’t just contained to Hope’s Peak.”

“It spread outside the school’s walls, turning into a huge societal phenomenon, with people everywhere protesting against the wealthy and talented. It spread across the media, the internet, everything. All people across all races and all cultures were affected. Soon, it degenerated into a massive orgy of violence and anarchy. Terrorism, coups, and wars were happening all the time just for the sake of causing despair.”

“But even Enoshima felt it wasn’t enough.”

Chiaki: What do you mean?

“She went after her classmates next.”

“See, the rest of Class 78 survived by turning the Hope’s Peak main building into a shelter. They were supposed to be safe there, but the Despair Sisters were already there. After stealing everyone’s memories through advanced neuroscience and broadcasting the whole thing on international TV, they started the Killing Game. That was their plan to crush any hope left in the world by showing the Ultimates killing each-other.”

“But they managed to turn things on their head. A lot of them died, but the last six managed to beat her and Enoshima was executed. Seeing her die and the six of them escape revitalized a lot of hope in the world, but we were still out there, causing despair in her name.”

“That’s when a new organization showed up, made up of former Hope’s Peak staff, alumni, and the six survivors. They called themselves Future Foundation. Their goal was to stop the Tragedy and rebuild society. And after two years, they made their biggest step forward by capturing us. And the plan was to execute us, to finally put a stop to things.”

Chaiki: What?! What...what happened?

“Naegi, one of the survivors, decided we should have a second chance. So he and two of the others, Kirigiri and Togami, took us from Foundation custody and brought us to the old Jabberwock island resort. That’s where they set up the Neo World Program.”

“It was a virtual reality therapy system that was designed to erase our memories of our time at Hope‘s Peak. The idea was that, with those gone and replaced with pleasant ones from our time in the simulation- on a fake Jabberwock- maybe we‘d go back to our old selves. And it kinda worked.”

Chiaki: Kinda?

“Turns out our plan was to get captured. Izuru had an AI copy of Enoshima’s personality that he secretly uploaded into the program. And with that, rather than a therapy simulation, we were caught up in a Killing Game of our own.”

“We had no memory of what happened, just finding ourselves caught up in this mess. This game, though, was meant to be our final attempt at bringing her back. See, whoever died in the simulation would fall comatose in the real world. The system that was supposed to upload our minds back into our bodies was hijacked so the AI could instead upload itself into all their bodies.”

“By the end, only five of us were left. We could either upload ourselves into our own bodies and allow her to escape, stay in the simulation forever, or hit the shutdown button and go back to being Ultimate Despair with no idea what happened.”

Chiaki: That’s...a lot. What did you choose?

“I almost gave up. I couldn’t make a decision. But...you convinced me to.”

“You...you came to me, and gave me the motivation I needed to take a chance, to make my own future and not play by Enoshima’s game. It was a gamble, but it paid off. We hit the shutdown command and we ended up escaping the simulation with our memories from both lives intact. I was mostly myself, but Izuru was still living in my brain.”

Chiaki: What about everyone who died?

“All still comatose. We got to work trying to get you all back. Unfortunately, things weren’t over just yet.”

“Naegi was dragged to Future Foundation’s headquarters, where he was put on trial for treason. The heads from all Foundation branches were called in, and that’s when someone set off a trap. They were all pulled into a Final Killing Game.”

Chiaki: Another one? Was there a despair hiding there too?

“Yes...but they weren’t responsible.”

Chiaki:Who was then? Why another one?

“Director Tengan Kazuo. He set it up as a way to weed our dissent among the Foundation leaders. He’d gotten so sick and tired of their infighting and had lost hope that the Tragedy would ever end. So he decided the best choice was to kill off the worst elements and force the world into a new state of peace. That meant introducing a Hope Brainwashing Video to the world courtesy of Mitarai.”

Chiaki: Mitarai? He wasn’t a despair?

“Well...okay, long story short, the Mitarai in your class isn’t the same person. They’re the Ultimate Imposter, and a damn good friend. The real Mitarai was hiding away from everything and had joined up with the Foundation, but he‘d also lost hope that things could change.”

Chiaki: What happened then? Did he...?

“Nope. We got there in time. Things might’ve been bad over there, but we got everyone out of their comas, all back to normal, and managed to get on a boat and set off for their HQ. He’d brainwashed most of the people there, but we got through them without killing anybody and convinced Mitarai to stand down.”

“But we also to tell the world it was our fault. That we were the ones behind the events at Foundation HQ. And after that, we went into exile back at Jabberwock.”

Chiaki: Why though? We were all normal again, right?

“Yeah, but nobody else knew that. And we were the last big factor in everything. If the world thought we were out there and attacked Future Foundation, rather than their leaders being so dysfunctional that they killed each-other, it would get the rest of the organization and people out there to rally behind together. The world needed them. It needed to rebuild.”

“And thanks to Naegi and his friends, it did. And we all decided we‘d spend the rest of our lives together on those islands, living our lives how we‘d want to from now on.”

“Six months later, I laid down one day and woke up back in April 2012.”

_________________________________________________

And the rest is part of a new history.