#it seems inequitable

[ecoterrorist-katara]

Katara would’ve been such a good diplomat (it’s canon)

everyone rightfully hates on the ATLA comics because the politics are baffling and the characterization is even more so…but if there’s one thing we can take away from the dumpster fire that is The Promise, it’s that Katara was BORN to be a diplomat and an international force for peace, okay? Especially since her besties, the Avatar and the Fire Lord, aren’t actually very good at this.

If you haven’t read The Promise, the Wikipedia summary is pretty good. The TL;DR is that Zuko and Kuei agree that the Fire Nation colonies need to be returned to the Earth Kingdom. The colony of Yu Dao is not happy about this because the people of the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom have been mixing together (under inequitable conditions) for more than a hundred years and “just kick out the Fire Nation” is not as straightforward as it seems, since there are blended families now. Zuko refuses to kick out the Fire Nation people from Yu Dao, Kuei wants to play hardball, and they almost launch another war. Oh and there’s a weird plot about Aang debating whether to put Zuko down like a rabid dog

For all that the Wiki page does a good job of summarizing the events, it forgets some key facts: 

It’s Katara who first starts thinking about new solutions after witnessing the situation on the ground, and then comes up with the idea that Zuko and Kuei should meet and talk about the colonies:

It’s Katara who tells Kuei that Zuko has legitimate concerns (without saying that Zuko is right), when Aang tries to hedge and sugarcoat the truth: 

And it’s Katara who says to Kuei, wait, what the hell do you mean that you have no idea what your people want, that Yu Dao is just a dot on the map for you? We’re getting you out of this stupid blimp and you’re gonna talk to people before you make a decision that affects their lives, you coward

To recap, Katara demonstrates some pretty freaking key political skills, like: 

finding out what people want before making a decision for them 

seeing people as people first and foremost, not as fire nation or earth kingdom 

encouraging her loved ones, the Avatar and the Fire Lord, to resolve a conflict by beginning negotiations instead of brawling like a couple of drunks at a bar / kids on the playground (both analogies fit btw, 13-17 is a weird combination of ages)  

realistically reporting tricky disagreements without sweeping them under the rug

kidnapping a king to the middle of a battlefield to give him a reality check about listening to the people he’s trying to rule

Anyway, Katara is hyper competent at both war AND peace! We see this in the show, with her compassion for the prisoners of the Earth Kingdom (by inciting a prison riot) and the suffering people of the Fire Nation (by committing ecoterrorism), only now that compassion is backed up not only by her fighting prowess and speeches about hope, but actual ability to manipulate the levers of power. 

And have I mentioned that she has the ears of both the Avatar and the Fire Lord and her dad is Chief of the Southern Water Tribe? Even if Katara didn’t get a diplomat position based on her skills, or her status as a war hero, she could nepo baby her way in. The fact that she does not pick up a career in international diplomacy is a crime & a colossal oversight from the creators. At minimum you know Katara would’ve established Healers Without Borders or something. She deserves to be yelling at people at ATLA UN and then drafting world-changing resolutions. 

And as a bonus, Katara demonstrates her gift for diplomacy by not smacking Zuko up the head for attempting to legitimize colonization through the argument of economic progress…

…and by not smacking Aang up the head for seriously considering anti-miscegenation as a viable political solution: 

This patience is a new development because show!Katara did not have this in her, but maybe this is what growing up is all about and not just yet another strike on the “comics are wildly OOC” tally

TL;DR: ATLA boys lost their brain cells post-canon. All hail Katara, Sugar Queen of international diplomacy. 

[thesiltverses]

How would you describe the level of technology present in the world of the Silt Verses, and what was the rationale (in-world or writerly) behind it being such? It's something I've found interesting to look back on re-listening to the how.

I think of it as 90s tech or degraded, inequitable modernity (the internet exists, airplanes exist, computers exist...but they're not universally accessible) - it seemed like a fitting state for a world where any advancement or new technology is likely to be accompanied by an explosion of divine collateral, and where people are as likely to be consumed as the consumer.

[ioveartfilm]

FIVE | 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

CHAPTER Ⅳ CHAPTER Ⅵ

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Heaped with endless expectations, a person of high status endures a life meticulously dictated by others. Each action, each word. Forced to become a puppet on strings controlled by societal demands. The pressure intensifies when the relentless need to outshine others emerges, all in a desperate bid to be acknowledged. To be recognized by his dear father.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 / 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: Mentions of sex, Suicide, Violence, Death, Dark themes, Explicit Language, Mature content, 18 + Only, Murder, Betrayal, Strangers to Lovers, Love At First Sight, Slow burn, Royal AU.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Gojo Satoru x Fem! Reader

“Once more time.” The resounding timbre of his father's voice reverberated within the room, its resonance imbued with a weighty insistence.

“How can you still fail to recite this? Is the plethora of prior repetitions insufficient to etch it into your memory?” The boy strove to maintain his composure, determined not to betray any hint of weakness before his imposing father.

He stammered initially, thinking his father would dismiss this insignificant error. However, his father, with an imperious lift of his hand, abruptly curtailed his attempt.

“That will suffice.” The older man declared, the authoritative gesture effectively silencing him.

“Father, I—”

“Did you not hear me? I have spoken—enough.” his father interjected with stern finality, his tone brooking no argument. “It is high time you overcome that infernal stammer. Or do you lack the desire to match your brother's achievements?”

The boy nodded silently, a feeble, “Yes, Father.” escaping his lips as he kept his head bowed low.

He heard his father's footsteps drawing nearer, accompanied by the imperious command, “Look at me when you speak.”

He complied, meeting his gaze directly.

“Maintain your stature. Never bowing it like a mere servant.”

“Yes, Father.” The boy repeated, this time with a bit more strength, attempting to muster the confidence his father demanded.

“Your brother never needed this many corrections. It is not just about reciting lines; it is about embodying the discipline and determination required to excel” The comparisons between his brother and him were relentless, each chiseling away at his self-worth.

“Again. From the beginning. You will not stop until you get it right.”

Has it always been this way? The relentless comparisons, the unending tide of disappointment emanating from his father, and his mother being a passive observer as his father imposed unattainable expectations upon him. How could such an inequitable situation persist?

Inadequate, insufficient—these refrains echoed ceaselessly in his mind. Despite his unwavering efforts and relentless attempts, no matter how fervently he strove, it was perpetually deemed inadequate. His relentless perseverance was met with an unyielding verdict: it was never enough.

He was naught but a shadow beside his brother, the paragon who had effortlessly attained the lofty expectations that seemed perpetually out of reach.

How did he manage such effortless success? He pondered. Why was it so effortlessly easy for him, yet so excruciatingly difficult for himself? It was as if a pernicious curse had been laid upon him from the very moment of his birth, dooming him to a lifetime of unremitting disappointment.

“Keep it up, brother, I know you can do it.” His brother's voice rang out with a sincere laugh, yet to him, it bore an undercurrent of mockery.

They were engaged in the rigorous practice of the arts imposed upon them, and during their swordplay, his brother effortlessly bested him.

Perhaps it was because his brother mirrored their father more closely, inheriting his striking white hair and sapphire eyes. Unlike him, who had inherited their mother's appearance with her hazel eyes, a difference that seemed to widen the chasm in their father's affections.

He possessed a rich chestnut brown tied up in a ponytail, in stark contrast to his brother, who kept his white hair cut short.

At the tender age of sixteen, even the realm of courtship proved a daunting challenge for him. While his brother exuded charisma and effortlessly captivated the attention of every maiden, he remained a mere silhouette, trailing in his brother's wake. In matters of the heart, he harbored a pervasive belief that no woman would deign to cast her gaze upon him—a disheartening conviction that weighed heavily upon his spirit. Or that's what he thought.

“Your Highness, would you be so gracious as to grant me this dance?” The ethereal timbre of a voice drifted to his ears, prompting him to lift his gaze and behold the owner of such a captivating sound. In that fleeting moment, he found himself entranced by the presence of the most resplendent woman he had ever laid eyes upon. Could it truly be that she was directing her words to him? He wondered in astonishment.

Throughout the ball, he had remained ensconced against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, a silent observer of the revelry unfolding before him. Yet, when this enchanting woman extended her invitation, how could he possibly decline such a request?

With practiced poise, he acknowledged her invitation, masking any overt signs of enthusiasm behind a facade of regal composure. “Of course, I will be most delighted.” He responded with measured assurance, though his inner being trembled with latent excitement. The lady, amused by his attempt at nonchalance, chuckled softly at his apparent enthusiasm, gracefully placing her delicate hand upon his own.

As they twirled across the ballroom floor, a ripple of surprise coursed through the audience. The sight of the second prince finally partaking in a dance with a lady was a rarity indeed, prompting whispered conversations and intrigued glances. Speculation swirled about the mysterious maiden, her arrival shrouded in enigma yet her allure undeniable. She had captured the attention of all present with her striking beauty.

Following the conclusion of the dance, the prince found himself unable to resist the urge to inquire after the maiden's appellation.

“Matilda.” She responded, her name rolling off her tongue like a melody.

Following that encounter, fortune smiled upon him at last. He and Matilda embarked upon a journey of profound companionship, their connection weaving together the threads of a beautiful friendship.

They commenced an exchange of heartfelt letters whenever they found themselves separated by distance. His father, increasingly exasperated by his son's perceived shortcomings in securing a suitable match, resolved that it would be most prudent for his second son to venture abroad to further his studies rather than remain idle at the estate. Though the prospect of prolonged separation from home filled him with a deep sense of reluctance, he acquiesced to his father's directive without protest.

He was but seventeen when he finally made his way back home. To his astonishment, his return was met with widespread fascination, as though he had emerged as a renewed individual. Perhaps it was the fortuitous outcome of heeding his father's command to travel, or possibly the transformation was spurred by his decision to cut his once-long hair.

Upon his return, his foremost endeavor was to pen a letter to his beloved Matilda, announcing his homecoming. During his sojourn abroad, he had assiduously maintained their correspondence, though, for some inexplicable reason, her responses had ceased. He speculated that she might have been engrossed in other matters, yet he harbored the hope that, upon discovering his return, their exchange of letters would rekindle, and their friendship would once again blossom as it had in days past. And perhaps that friendship might blossom into something more profound and enduring.

He soon learned of the changes that had transpired in his absence. One day, his father approached him accompanied by a gentleman he had never seen before. “This is Ethelred.” His father announced. “He will be your advisor, guiding you and remaining by your side to ensure you make prudent decisions.” Though he had never had a royal advisor before, he acknowledged that there is always a first time for everything.

Ethelred was... well, reserved at most. Even though he didn't appear much older, likely in his early twenties. He wondered what qualities his father had discerned in Ethelred to entrust him with such a significant role.

He also discovered that, surprisingly, his brother had yet to secure a suitable match, a fact that seemed almost inconceivable. Perhaps the prospective candidates failed to meet his brother's lofty standards, though he could never be certain. Not that it troubled their father, for his brother had always been the favored son.

One afternoon, his brother extended an invitation for a leisurely ride with their horses, an opportunity for them to reconnect. During this outing, he was informed that a letter had arrived for him. His brother, with a mischievous glint, teased him about his eagerness to learn more about the sender. Choosing to disregard his brother's playful taunts, he accepted the letter. To his immense delight, he discovered it was from his beloved Matilda.

In her letter, she expressed her eagerness to see him again, and as soon as possible too. Could it be that her feelings had deepened during their time apart?

As the candles flickered low, casting elongated shadows across the parchment, he found himself inscribing his thoughts, a practice he had maintained diligently during his travels. Yet, the tranquility of his nocturnal musings was shattered by the sudden intrusion of his father, his countenance twisted with unmistakable ire.

“Father?” He began, taken aback by the sudden onslaught.

Before he could utter another word, the force of his father's hand collided with his cheek, the sharp sound reverberating through the chamber like a thunderclap. Stunned, he staggered back, his senses reeling from the unexpected blow. His face still stinging from the impact.

“Have you taken leave of your senses?” His father thundered, his voice laced with palpable outrage. “Do you comprehend the folly of your actions? The maiden to whom you have been corresponding is of no consequence—a mere nobody with neither title nor distinguished lineage. Do you now fancy yourself enamored with commoners?”

How had his father come to know about Matilda? Unless... Before he could entertain any further conjectures, his father's voice cut through the silence like a sharp blade.

“Do you wish to be a perpetual disappointment to me, Ferdinand?”

Yes, he had always fallen short, perpetually failing to meet his father's expectations. Never enough. Never able to please anyone.

As the sun descended beneath the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape, he hastened to prepare to prepare his mount for the clandestine meeting with his beloved. Amidst saddling his horse, he caught sight of his brother approaching.

“Brother, where are you off to?” He queried, a hint of concern coloring his voice.

With a dismissive snort, he adjusted the bridle, determined to press forward without delay. Yet, his brother persisted, gripping his shoulder firmly and halting his progress. Forced to face him.

“Why does it concern you?” Ferdinand shot back, his voice tinged with accusation. “Are you intent on betraying me once more?”

His brother came to a sudden halt, confusion etched upon his features. “Betray you?” He echoed, bewildered by the accusation.

“I should never have placed my trust in you. I should have remained vigilant, never letting my guard down.” He declared, pushing his brother's grip away. Yet, before he could break free, his brother swiftly caught hold of him once more.

“Has something happened?”

“A lot has happened,” Ferdinand replied bitterly. “More than you could possibly imagine.”

“Please, don't be like this. Talk to me. I'm sure there's a way I can assist you.” His brother pleaded.

“Help me? How could you possibly help me?” The other retorted.

“Has our father said something to you? Come on, let's meet and clear any misunderstandings—”

Ferdinand pushed his brother's grip away with force, as he meet his gaze. “Don't you believe you've caused sufficient harm already?”

“Brother, I implore you to enlighten me on how I have betrayed you. I have no memory of such transgression.”

“Do you genuinely not recall, or are you deliberately feigning ignorance?”

“Leave me be.” Ferdinand's response was terse and final, as he mounted his horse and rode off, leaving his brother to ponder his words.

As he pressed onward, consumed by the turmoil of his emotions, he remained oblivious to the sudden change in weather. The skies darkened, and rain began to pour down in torrents, drenching him to the bone. Yet, he paid no heed to the discomfort, his only concern being to reach the woman he cherished.

According to her letters, she had relocated to a modest, secluded cottage surrounded by the serene embrace of nature. Driven by sheer determination, Ferdinand navigated the path and finally reached her abode. Dismounting from his horse, he hastened to the door, his eyes catching the flickering shadows of candlelight through the windows. With a sense of urgency, he pounded on the door with his right fist.

After knocking relentlessly, Matilda opened her door, startled by the late-hour commotion. Her eyes widened in astonishment upon seeing the prince.

“Ferdinand? What brings you here at this hour? You are drenched to the skin!”

The prince did not deign to respond. Instead, he strode inside, closing the door behind him and cornering Matilda within the confines of her modest cottage. Without uttering a word, he seized her face in his hands, pressing his lips to hers with a passion so ardent it seemed their very souls ignited in the fervent embrace. After what seemed an eternity, they finally drew apart from the kiss, their breaths mingling in ragged, synchronized gasps.

But as he locked eyes with his beloved, he saw emotions reflected in her beautiful eyes that did not match his own.

“Ferdinand, this is wrong.” She whispered, lowering her gaze, unable to summon the courage to meet his eyes.

He released her face, his hands falling despondently to his sides, his expression etched with profound heartbreak. “Why are we denied this happiness?” He implored, his voice heavy with sorrow.

“You are of noble blood, and I am but a commoner. Our worlds could never intertwine. Why can't you comprehend that?”

“I am impervious to such superficialities!” His voice carried the weight of thunder, filling the cozy confines of the cottage with its resounding power. “The trappings of my status mean naught in comparison to the depth of my feelings for you.” He avowed passionately, his words a fervent plea. Desperation etched every line of his face as he sought to bridge the divide between them, reaching out with an outstretched hand. But she recoiled, backing away from his touch.

“We cannot be.” She declares firmly, her tone unwavering, yet beneath the surface lies a hint of sadness, buried beneath the façade of resolve. She dare not let her true feelings surface. “And we shall never be.”

“Cease this self-deception.” Ferdinand implores, each word heavy with the weight of his love for her. “You feel for me as deeply as I feel for you.”

Matilda shook her head subtly, her delicate features momentarily concealed as she closed her eyes, grappling with the gravity of the man's confession. A heavy silence descended upon them both. As Matilda's eyes fluttered open once more, a shadow seemed to pass over their once-bright depths, replaced by an inscrutable emotion.

“Who says I harbor such affection?” She countered, her voice stripped of its former warmth, now cloaked in a solemn resolve.

Ferdinand found himself rendered speechless, his faculties momentarily overwhelmed as he struggled to articulate his incredulity.

“I have never admitted to harboring such thoughts of you.” She asserted, “You are a fool to entertain the notion that I would ever harbor such sentiments for you.”

Ferdinand's heart shattered into a thousand pieces, each of her words cutting through him like sharp blades. “That cannot be true.” he protested, desperation evident in his voice. “You are lying to yourself. You are pushing me away, I see it.”

“You are blind as well, Ferdinand! I have never loved you, not even for a moment. Not in the way you desired me to.”

No. He refuses to accept her words as truth. Stepping forward, he enveloped her in his embrace, burying his face in the softness of her hair. “You are lying! How can you not love me when you hold half of my heart?”

Matilda fought the urge to melt into his warm embrace, summoning her strength to push him away. “It is true.” She insisted, her voice unwavering despite the storm of emotions raging within her. “And whether you choose to accept it or not, I have never loved you. I pitied you!”

Pity me?

“I pity you for living in the shadow of Prince Thaddeus, for bearing the burden of your father's unfair expectations. All I ever sought was your friendship, nothing beyond that.”

“No one with genuine feelings would go to such lengths! Stop lying to me, Matilda, or else I fear I shall lose my sanity!” He shouted out, his voice cracking with anguish.

He staggered backward, taken aback, as Matilda pushed him forcefully in the chest. “I grow weary of this repetition! I have spoken my truth, Ferdinand, and I will not repeat it again. Stop with your nonsense once and for all!”

After her heartbreaking confession, a heavy silence enveloped the forbidden lovers as Ferdinand gathered his thoughts. “The eyes never lie, Matilda.” He began softly, his gaze unwavering as he met hers.

“Even as you push me away, I know that you love me. You may deny it with words, but that will not quell the truth in your eyes. And know this, my love for you will endure despite all.”

A shaky breath escaped Matilda's lips as she struggled to maintain her resolve. “Please,” She whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, “go, and never return, I don't wish to see you ever again.”

With his heart laid bare, Ferdinand turned on his heel, each step weighed down by the gravity of her words. From that day forward, something inside him withered and died. Time seemed to rush onward, yet he remained stuck in place, trapped in a relentless loop of sorrow. His world turned to shades of grey, for when she left, she took all the colors with her. Every moment felt void of meaning as if the essence of his being had been siphoned away along with her departure. He found himself in the arms of countless mistresses, yet none possessed the exquisite softness of Matilda's lips. Each encounter was a hollow echo, their fleeting embrace a stark reminder of the irreplaceable love he had lost, leaving him perpetually yearning for what once was.

Every time he gazed into the mirror now, he found solace in the fact that he did not resemble the monster that was his father. The very man who had manipulated his life and brought him nothing but misery. The man who also took the love of his life. His brother and father were so much alike beyond their physical features. Both were selfish and self-centered, wandering through life doing whatever they pleased without a care.

“Son, it is my honor to introduce Miss Genevieve Schneider.” His father proclaimed one day, presenting a young maiden of his own age. “She will be the one you marry.”

Ferdinand's heart sank, yet he did not protest. Instead, his jaw clenched in silent defiance. A tempest of emotions swirled within him, but he masked it with a stoic facade, resigning himself once more to the dictates of his overbearing father.

The woman before him smiled graciously, executing a flawless bow. “It is an honor to finally make your acquaintance, Your Highness.” She intoned with practiced elegance. She was undeniably beautiful, with her blue eyes and caramel hair yet her beauty paled in comparison to that of his once-beloved Matilda.

A grand wedding unfolded, drawing countless guests from far and wide to witness what was heralded as a joyous union. Yet, to Ferdinand, it felt like a cruel jest. Standing before his new wife, he leaned forward to seal the ceremony with a kiss, one that lacked any semblance of affection or warmth.

“The weather seems pleasant today.” His wife remarked as she entered his study room, her voice gentle and inviting. “Would you like to join me in the gardens?”

Ferdinand remained seated, his gaze fixed on the papers before him, indifferent to her presence. “I am busy.” He replied curtly. He possesses no desire to maintain a relationship with her, despite being married.

On their wedding night, it felt to him like another meaningless encounter from his days in various brothels. Like an emotionless puppet, he mechanically brought his wife pleasure. When it was over, he turned his back to her without a word, retreating into the cold comfort of his own solitude.

“Princess Genevieve is with child!” The announcement halted him in his tracks. He had known this was inevitable, but he hadn't expected it to happen so soon. Becoming a father at eighteen before his older brother had even secured a match—was a reality he hadn't yet fully contemplated.

“Your Highness, do you have a preference for the gender of our child?” His wife asked one night as they lay in bed. With his back turned to her, he could only mutter, “A boy is what we need.”

Months passed, and soon the child arrived on a cold December. The nurses granted him entry after the labor was done, and as he stepped inside the room, he saw his wife lying exhausted on the bed, sweat glistening on her brow. In her delicate arms lay their newborn, swaddled in a white blanket. Raising her gaze, his wife whispered, “Your Highness, it’s a boy.”

A boy. He walked forward to get a closer look at his son. His wife turned the infant gently, allowing him a better view. Dread washed over him as his eyes landed upon the child. White hair, sapphire eyes. How could this be? Not even his son resembled him!

His son had inherited his wife's blue eyes but bore no trace of his lineage. As his son started to grow up, he could observe he also had inherited his grandfather's genes. Indeed, it seemed like a cruel curse.

“Ha Ha! Behold everyone my first grandson! Prince Satoru Gojo!” His father proclaimed with a proud laugh, lifting the infant into his arms. The joy and pride in his father's voice were palpable, a stark contrast to the distant indifference Ferdinand had known throughout his own childhood. Watching his father cradle the toddler with such affection, tore the insides of his wounded heart.

Prince Satoru Gojo, his son, an uncanny resemblance to the man he despised the most.

It was a balmy spring day, the sun casting its golden rays upon the earth like a lover's gentle caress. The warmth enveloped everything it touched, offering a comforting embrace that could lull one into a peaceful slumber beneath its radiant glow. Like echoes from a distant memory, laughter floated on the breeze, carefree and joyous.

A young girl lay upon the vibrant green grass, her eyes closed in serene repose, surrendering herself fully to the sun's embrace. How could anyone resist the privilege of surrendering to such a comforting feeling?

“Sweetheart!” A voice called out, and the girl's eyes fluttered open, turning her head slightly to the side. Her vision was still blurry, but she recognized who was calling for her. A woman approached swiftly, rushing to the girl's side and pulling her into a playful embrace that elicited laughter, the girl burying her head into the older woman's chest.

“I've been looking for you, sweetheart. What are you doing lying on the ground?” The woman asked with a playful tone, tickling the girl's side gently.

The girl's laughter tinkled like wind chimes in the breeze as she attempted to wriggle free from the embrace. As she playfully squirmed to break free from the embrace, the older woman's laughter softened into a tender sigh, pulling the girl closer until her chin rested gently atop the girl's head. With a motherly touch, she began to pat her back in a soothing rhythm, each stroke a gesture of love and reassurance.

“Come, my dear, let us retreat indoors.” The woman suggested, her voice a gentle murmur. The girl acquiesced with a nod against her chest, her eyes closing serenely.

“Yes, Mother.”

With a sudden jolt, you awaken from yet another peculiar dream that had haunted your sleep. Breathing heavily, you sit up in bed, attempting to steady your emotions and calm the tumultuous thoughts swirling in your mind. You place a hand on your chest, feeling the rapid rhythm of your heart beneath your palm, its beats echoing the lingering intensity of the dream. Even though it was a serene and beautiful dream, an uncanny feeling lingers as if it were a memory locked deep within your mind.

That woman, who is she? And the little girl…could that have been you?

Upon the day the Geto family stumbled upon you amidst the woods, a necklace clung resolutely to your neck, defying the odds of slipping off during your distressed discovery. Now, seated at the bed's edge, your feet encounter the cold floor, triggering a shiver that runs down your spine. You remain still, gaze fixed on nothingness, pondering your next steps carefully. That's where you reach a decision. You begin your preparations for the day, slipping into one of the new dresses Miss Geto purchased for you just a few days prior. You resolved to approach her, to confide in her about the recent troubles weighing on your mind, and to seek any insights she might have about your discovery that could aid in unlocking memories of your past. Despite having stowed away the necklace, convinced that clinging to a past you couldn't recall was futile, you now felt compelled to retrieve it from the depths of your drawer. Today, more than ever, you intend to hold onto it tightly.

It was early morning, approximately eight o'clock—a time when you and Suguru typically partook in breakfast together. Occasionally, Miss Geto would join, though such occurrences were rare given her busy schedule.

As you ventured into the dining room, you noticed Suguru's absence, which struck you as unusual.

“Where could he be?” You wondered silently, meandering through the manor until you halted in the hallway, pausing as you caught the sound of voices emanating from Suguru and his mother in the living room. Proceeding cautiously, you refrained from announcing your presence, uncertain if it was the appropriate moment to do so.

“Whatever do you mean?” Suguru's voice intoned with a trace of skepticism, seated opposite his mother.

Evelyn sighed softly, rubbing the space between her eyebrows. “Son, I intend no offense in offering counsel on these matters.”

“I fail to comprehend the source of these accusations. Public indiscretions? Pray tell, where have I been witnessed in such displays?”

“I was informed that you were seen in the company of...well, a woman of questionable repute. Naturally, it has troubled me greatly to hear such gossip circulating about you.”

This caught Suguru off guard. Questionable repute? Does she mean Rosalie? He raised a brow at his mother's words, his hand resting calmly on his leg, trying his best to maintain his composure. “If I may ask, mother, where did you hear such information?”

“It does not truly matter, does it?”

“It matters a great deal.” He asserts, “To cast aspersions upon someone's character without sufficient knowledge is not only unjust but also unbecoming. One cannot casually besmirch an innocent person's reputation based on hearsay alone.”

“I only want what's best for you—” Evelyn attempted to resonate with her son, though he remained steadfast in his stance.

“But speaking disparagingly of another based solely on their occupation—what does that say of us? Is it fair to dismiss someone's character and integrity simply because of their profession? Being a seamstress does not equate to being a prostitute. Such insinuations are truly ignoble.”

“Forgive me, son, for my unintended judgment. During your absence, I had an unexpected visit from an acquaintance who shared this information with me. Can you blame me for being concerned?”

Ah, Suguru thought to himself at that moment, now everything falls into place.

“Was it Miss Schuyler?” Suguru's voice resonated with annoyance as he perceived his mother's silence as confirmation. “Mother, how can you continue to maintain ties with such an insufferable woman? Can you not discern that her every utterance is full of lies!”

“It's true, isn't it?” His mother replied changing the subject smoothly, “The supposed gossip speaks truth.”

“So what if it is true? Mother, I did not expect you to judge someone's character so hastily.” His eyes bore into hers, searching for any sign of the understanding and fairness he hoped to find.

“It was never my intention to speak ill of anyone, please understand. I simply wish for you to engage with someone of a different character, someone befitting your station.”

Sighing, Suguru rose from his seat, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. After a moment of silence, he turned to face his mother, one hand resting on his hip. “And whom, pray tell, do you suggest as being suitable to befit my station?”

Evelyn rose gracefully from her seat, gliding toward her son. She took both of his hands in hers, her eyes filled with earnest conviction. “Someone cultured and well-educated, with a mind as expansive as the horizon, a true connoisseur of the arts and humanities. Someone like (Y/N).”

What!

Suguru felt the world around him come to a standstill as your name fell from his mother's lips. “(Y/N)?” He repeated, the syllables trembling with a mixture of astonishment and incredulity. Did he hear right?

“Yes! Don't you see that you and (Y/N) are the perfect match?”

Suguru gently pulled away from Evelyn's grasp, a frown creasing his brow. “Mother, where is this coming from?” he inquired, his tone laced with frustration. “Me and (Y/N) could never be.”

“Why? You two have known each other for so long, and you share a deep, genuine affection for one another's company. Your companionship is already a solid foundation, one that many marriages lack. Such a bond is rare and precious, and I truly believe it could blossom into something extraordinary.”

As you eavesdropped further into the conversation, a growing anxiety gripped your heart. Evelyn’s passionate plea for why Suguru should marry you hung in the air, and his prolonged silence only heightened your unease. What was he thinking?

“(Y/N) and I share a rare and precious bond, that is true,” Suguru began softly, “But I have always seen her as the sister I never had, someone I wish to protect and shelter. Our connection is deep and unwavering, but it is not the romantic love you envision. Please do not force something unexisting into our relationship that could jeopardize the genuine affection and respect we have for each other.”

His response seemed to jolt Evelyn into a moment of clarity, rendering her speechless as her hands fell limply by her sides. Suguru sighed softly, excusing himself with a graceful pivot on his heel before leaving the room.

You quickly made my exit, keenly avoiding any chance of being discovered by Suguru for eavesdropping. Hiding until Suguru's steps faded toward his office, you emerged from the shadows, your countenance etched with concern as you watched his retreating figure. There was a solemn obligation stirring within you, a sense of duty to aid him in some way, after all, you owned him that much.

The rhythmic thumping of his leg bouncing up and down was the sole sound echoing through the room. The prince couldn't contain his anxiety as he gripped the letter he had received that morning. Weeks had passed since the last correspondence, and his men had failed to uncover the identity of the mysterious author.

“Your Highness, you summoned me?” The voice of his advisor, Ethelred, reverberated through the room, breaking the prince's reverie.

Clutching the letter with white-knuckled intensity, Satoru waved it before his advisor's eyes. “Have you seen this? Another letter has arrived! Did I not command you to uncover the identity of this elusive author?” His voice, quivering with a blend of anger and anxiety, filled the room. “What have you been doing all this time?”

The older man bowed, “Please forgive me, Your Highness. We are doing our utmost to comply with your command, but unforeseen circumstances hinder our progress.”

A frustrated groan escaped his lips as he threw the letter back onto the table with a dismissive flick of his wrist. Rising to his feet, he turned his back on his advisor, a clear sign of his displeasure.

“Enough of this. You are dismissed. Leave me to my thoughts.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Ethelred retreated from the room, closing the door softly behind him, leaving the prince alone with his turmoil.

Now alone inside his chamber, his eyes flicked to the discarded letter on the table, its presence a constant reminder of the mystery that eluded him.

“King Ferdinand is nothing but a deceiver, cloaked in a myriad of secrets. The entire royal family is tainted, shrouded in the darkness of their concealed transgressions. Only the prince, in his naive ignorance, remains oblivious to the sinister truths that fester in the shadows.” Satoru murmured these damning words from the letter he had read earlier, his expression darkening with each word.

Pacing the room with mounting frustration, he clenched his fists. “How dare they talk ill about my family.” His voice trembled with a mixture of anger and despair. “This cannot go on. I will uncover the truth, no matter the cost.”

Without announcing his departure, Satoru donned a black cloak and made his way stealthily to one of the carriages. “Is Miss Cressida still in residence?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” A servant replied. “Though she left earlier to meet with a group of maidens.”

Sighing, the prince nodded and stepped into the carriage. His resolve hardened as he addressed the driver and attendants. “You are all strictly forbidden from disclosing my departure to anyone. Not a word of this leaves your lips. Now, let us be on our way.”

The carriage lurched forward, and as they moved through the gates of the palace. Gazing ahead as the carriage rolled through the bustling streets, Prince Satoru's mind churned with speculation about the mysterious sender of the letters. His brow furrowed in frustration, contemplating every possible angle. Could it be a vengeful rival, harboring grievances? As the carriage navigated through the labyrinthine streets, Satoru's resolve solidified like iron forged in the fires of uncertainty. Then, a singular place etched itself into his mind, he only hoped it was the right place to find the answers he had been looking for.

The carriage came to a halt, and Satoru dismissed his staff with a curt nod before drawing the hood of his cloak over his head, obscuring his features in shadow. He knew the remainder of his journey must be made on foot; a royal carriage spotted in these kinds of places would undoubtedly give him away. After walking several miles through winding paths he finally stood before a weathered tavern. This was a haven where gentlemen sought respite from their nagging wives and indulged in secretive liaisons. The establishment thrummed with life, the air thick with the scent of ale, and tobacco. Pushing open the creaking door, Satoru entered the dimly lit, crowded room. He maneuvered through the throng of patrons, the din of raucous laughter and clinking glasses enveloping him. Reaching the bar, he took a seat on one of the worn stools.

“Good evening, sir. What can I get you?” The bartender inquired, acknowledging his presence.

“A glass of beer.” Satoru muttered from beneath his cloak, his voice low and gruff. The bartender nodded, turning to prepare his drink.

Satoru sat there, listening intently to the cacophony around him. It is only a guess, after all there’s only one person will be brave enough to threaten him. And he’s well aware this individual is a frequent visitor of this establishment. He could only hopes his intuition is right.

Then, suddenly, a boisterous group of gentlemen entered, their laughter cutting through the noise, catching Satoru’s attention.

“Haha, Ewart! I’m glad to see you well, my friend. It's been ages since we last met!” One of them exclaimed, his voice rich with camaraderie.

Bingo.

The group of gentlemen settled at a nearby table, their boisterous laughter filling the air as they delved into friendly conversations over a round of drinks.

“Why haven't you reached out to us the moment you arrived?” One of the men inquired, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity. “What have you been up to, friend?”

Ewart, leaned back in his chair, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I've been rather preoccupied with some more important matters.”

Another gentleman raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? Do tell, Ewart. We're all ears.”

Ewart chuckled, taking a measured sip of his drink before leaning forward with a twinkle in his eye. “Well, let’s just say I encountered a maiden whose beauty could rival that of the stars. Truly, she is the most exquisite among them all.”

The group leaned in, intrigued by the other's words.

“It all began when I was accompanying a cousin of mine to an evening,” Ewart recounted, his voice rich with nostalgia. “At first, it was a day like any other—monotonous and teeming with the usual chatter. However, the air shifted when a commotion erupted, drawing everyone's attention. Amidst the chaos, my eyes landed on a distressed lady, her clothes drenched as she ran with an urgency that spoke of desperation. Being the gentleman I am, I intended to aid her, but she vanished before I could reach her. Determined to know more, I inquired about her. Imagine my surprise when I found out she was living under the roof of someone I once knew.”

“Well look at that, could it be love at first sight, Ewart?”

He chuckled softly, his gaze distant. “Perhaps it was, or perhaps it was not. I sent her a letter, hoping we could spend some time together.” Ewart continued, his tone growing somber as a frown darkened his countenance. “But—”

“What is it?”

Ewart huffed, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass absentmindedly. “The prince got in my way.”

“The prince?”

“Yes, the darn prince thought it was a good idea to spend time over his state. After she received my letter, she agreed to meet at Palais Guille, and to my misfortune, I crossed paths with him. He invited us all over his state the next day. Somehow, it felt like he was after her hand in marriage.” Ewart replied, frustration evident in his voice.

They all laughed heartily before speaking. “Well, it seems like your rivalry with the prince is still intact, even after all these years.”

“And you know what’s more unbelievable? He’s engaged. I guess that when you are royalty, you can do whatever you want without fearing the consequences.”

“After all, he has always been arrogant and imperious.”

“Haha, I couldn't agree more!”

The gentlemen around the table continued their banter, the laughter growing louder and the drinks kept flowing.

After a while, Ewart leaned in, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “Allow me to confide in you all. For some inexplicable reason, a foreboding sense has settled upon me ever since King Ferdinand ascended the throne. Everything was flowing well when Prince Thaddeus and King Everard were alive. God help us all.” He expressed taking a longer slip from his drink.

The group fell silent, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. The jovial atmosphere turned somber as the men exchanged glances. The unexpected change of topic took them all off guard.

“Now that you mention them, their deaths were shrouded in peculiar circumstances. In the case of Prince Thaddeus, the initial proclamation was that he was suffering from nothing more than a mild fever. However, this narrative swiftly changed, and it was later declared that he had succumbed to a deadly illness.”

They all concurred in unison, nodding their heads in agreement.

Ewart leaned back into his seat, his eyes narrowing, “Who knows what truly transpires within those walls?”

After a final round of drinks, Ewart set his glass aside and rose from his seat. “Gentlemen, do excuse me. I must wash my face; otherwise, I fear I shall not be able to make my way home.”

This was Satoru's cue to set his plan into motion. After discreetly paying for his drink, he followed Ewart, remaining unnoticed as they made their way to the men's restroom. As Ewart finished washing his face, Satoru swiftly pushed him against the wall, gripping his attire with both fists.

“What is the meaning of this!” Ewart exclaimed, taken aback by the sudden assault. Fortunately, the hallway was deserted, ensuring no witnesses to their confrontation.

“You think I wouldn't realize you were the one sending those letters?” Satoru hissed, his grip tightening. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“I am utterly clueless about your accusations! Who are you?” His protest was abruptly silenced as Satoru pressed his arm firmly against Ewart's neck, nearly choking him.

“You had the best start speaking the truth!” Satoru hissed, his voice a low, menacing whisper. “Confess, or face dire consequences!”

As Ewart struggled to make sense of the situation, his eyes widened in recognition when he caught a glimpse of the familiar blue eyes beneath the cloak. “Satoru?”

Satoru gritted his teeth, pushing his arm further against Ewart's throat, eliciting a gasp from the other man. “Speak!” He commanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“Ewart, what is taking you so long?” The voices of his friends echoed down the hallway, growing louder with each passing second. Then the group of gentlemen halted abruptly at the sight before them.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Bloody—” Satoru cursed under his breath, swiftly releasing Ewart, who fell to the ground, choking and gasping for air.

The men rushed toward Satoru to defend their friend. The first punch landed squarely across his jawline, sending a jolt of pain through his face, but he quickly regained his footing. With a surge of adrenaline, Satoru struck back. Though outnumbered, he fought valiantly, deflecting blows and retaliating with precise hits of his own. Despite his best efforts, the odds were against him. Four against one proved a formidable challenge, and Satoru knew he couldn't hold them off indefinitely. With a final burst of strength, he managed to break free from their grasp, slipping through their clutches and making a hasty escape. Bruised and battered, he navigated the bustling streets as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over his path.

“Rosalie!”

“Yes, Madam?”

“You have a visitor.”

Rosalie was taken aback by the announcement. After all, visitors were a rarity for her. Turning her head, she saw you standing at the front, a sheepish smile playing on your lips.

“Is it a bad time?” You inquired, your voice gentle but uncertain.

“Miss (Y/N), what brings you here?” Rosalie questioned, her surprise evident as her hands fell to her sides. Abandoning the mannequin she had been diligently taking measurements on.

“I need to speak with you, but I see you're occupied,” you said, glancing at the dress-in-progress. “I'll wait as long as needed to have a word with you.”

Rosalie sighed deeply, casting a glance towards the older woman, who nodded in quiet acquiescence, granting Rosalie a brief respite from her duties.

“Come with me.” She instructed, guiding you to a more secluded area of the store. She later beckoned you to sit on one of the couches. “Might I offer you some tea?”

You politely declined with a smile, “Thank you, but I am quite alright.”

She nodded gracefully, settling into the seat opposite you, her hands folded in her lap, “What is it that you wish to discuss with me?” She inquired gently, her gaze attentive as she awaited your words.

Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you sighed softly, a hint of concern coloring your tone. “Are you faring well, Rosalie?” You ventured delicately, your eyes searching hers for any hint of what weighed upon her.

She raised an eyebrow in genteel surprise, her poise unwavering as she regarded you with mild curiosity. “Might I inquire as to the nature of your concern?”

You blinked owlishly, momentarily taken aback by her apparent unawareness. “Do you truly mean that you possess no knowledge whatsoever of recent says?”

Rosalie's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of concern passing through her gaze. “I believe I do not know what are you talking about.”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “Forgive me if I seem forward, but there have been rumors circulating about… matters concerning about you...and Suguru.” You began tentatively, watching her reaction closely.

“Ah...” She uttered softly, a slight tremor in her voice before she gathered herself to meet your gaze once more. “What sorts of rumors have taken flight?”

Your hesitation was palpable, the weight of unspoken implications hanging heavy in the air. Yet, Rosalie's gentle insistence prompted you to carefully say your next words. “It pains me to even repeat such hearsay. But whispers are suggesting a connection between you and Suguru, veiled in conjecture and speculation. Along with words denigrating you as a person and your profession.”

Rosalie's expression tightened slightly, a fleeting flicker of emotion passing across her face before she masked it behind a veil of composure once more. “Is Suguru alright?”

You offered a sympathetic nod, “He is, in fact. He's furious at such implications.”

A solemn hush descended between you two. Moved by an earnest compulsion, you approached Rosalie with a grace borne of empathy, kneeling beside her and gently clasping her hands in yours. Before she could interject, you implored her with a fervent plea.

“Forgive my impertinence, but I could not bear to witness you and Suguru ensnared in the snares of baseless conjecture. It was not my place to speak, yet I could not remain idle as shadows of doubt threatened your peace. Please, do not allow the judgments of others to define your path or dictate the company you keep.”

Rosalie's expression softened, a flicker of gratitude and vulnerability shimmering in her eyes as my words resonated with the truth she held dear. “I am deeply grateful for your kindness, (Y/N). You have been nothing but a great companion. However, if you don't mind, I would appreciate a moment alone.”

You nodded understandingly, releasing her hands with a gentle squeeze before withdrawing slightly.

“Of course. Take all the time you need.” You offered one last nod of reassurance before quietly excusing yourself from her presence, leaving her to contemplate in the sanctum of her thoughts.

As you stood outside the establishment, the weight of recent events hung heavily upon you. You pity the situation both of your friends are in, feeling hopeless. Lost in contemplation, the sunset painted the sky with hues of amber and crimson, the night was about to come and it was your cue to return before they noticed your absence back at home.

Suddenly, gasps and hurried footsteps shattered the stillness, drawing your attention to the commotion unfolding through the street. Before you could discern its cause, a collision knocked you off balance, the force sending you sprawling to the ground.

As you gathered my senses, by sitting up, you looked up and froze at the sight of the figure beneath the cloak—Satoru. Why was the prince here out of all places!

“Satoru?” You exclaimed, your astonishment muffled as he swiftly silenced you with a finger pressed to his lips.

With urgency in his eyes, he grasped your wrist and pulled you into a nearby alley, shielding you both from prying eyes. Pressed against the cold stone wall, his presence loomed over you, shielding you under his body. Until the voices of the group of men faded, Satoru stepped back, removing the cloak that concealed his identity.

His gaze locked onto yours with concern etched upon his bruised face. “Are you okay, (Y/N)? I'm deeply sorry for earlier, please forgive me.”

You swallowed hard, his touch stirring a swirl of emotions within you- “I'm alright.” You managed to reply, your eyes then landing on his face, noticing the damage that lies on it.

“Are you alright? What happened!” You asked worriedly.

Satoru's lips curved into a faint smile, retreating his hand. “I am alright, thank you for your concern.” He assured you, brushing off your worry. “I'm more concerned about you. What are you doing here alone?”

You exhaled a sigh, your gaze drifted downward. “I came here with intentions to speak with my friend, but now, I find myself reluctant to return.”

Satoru's brow furrowed in concern as he clasped your hand in his, his touch both comforting and urgent. “You must return. I worry for your safety. Does Suguru know you are here?”

Shaking your head slightly, you met his gaze, “I came here without nobody knowing.”

Satoru pulls away, sighing heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The thought of suggesting you stay at his estate dissipates with Cressida's presence, leaving no chance. Meeting your gaze once more, he inquires, “Where do you plan to stay?”

“I came prepared. I have funds to secure accommodations at an inn.”

The thought of you residing alone in an inn stirred unease within Satoru. “Allow me to accompany you.” He declared abruptly, his words betraying his usual composure.

You froze, meeting his gaze in astonishment. “Pardon?”

Realizing the implications of his blunt statement, Satoru cleared his throat before continuing with a more refined approach. “What I intend to convey is, permit me to secure accommodations adjacent to yours. I find myself unable to let you depart in such a manner.”

“Your Highness, I couldn't possibly trouble you like this—”

“Please, I insist.”

After relenting to Satoru's earnest appeals, the two of you arrived at a nearby inn, its atmosphere bustling with the presence of numerous guests. “Two chambers, if you please.” You requested politely to the gentleman stationed behind the polished desk.

“I regret to inform you, that we possess only one room available.”

“Oh dear.”

Then the innkeeper's gaze lingered curiously on Satoru, who was standing behind you, concealed beneath his cloak. A hearty laugh escaped him. “No need for secrecy here, sir. Your affairs are safe with us.”

Satoru scowled slightly beneath his cloak, clearly displeased by the innkeeper's perceptiveness. “You—”

Caught off guard by the innkeeper's implication, you felt a flush of warmth spread across you. With no alternative apparent, you composed yourself and replied, “We shall take the room, then.”

The innkeeper nodded amiably, his laughter subsiding as he efficiently prepared the arrangements for your accommodation.

Both of you ascended the staircase to the room allocated to you, and upon entering, your eyes immediately fell upon the sole bed situated in the center of the spacious chamber. Composing yourself despite the unexpected arrangement, you turned to face Satoru.

“Would you like me to tend to your injuries?” You offered gently, “I can request medical supplies from the staff.”

“Oh. If isn't too much trouble.”

You nodded in acknowledgment before exiting the room to retrieve the necessary equipment. After a brief absence, you returned with medical supplies in hand, entering quietly to find Satoru seated by the bed, his gaze lost in distant thoughts. His troubled demeanor was palpable, prompting you to approach him gently.

“I'm back.” You announced softly, moving to his side and creating a space for yourself on the bed. With a delicate touch, you lifted a compress and carefully applied it to one of his bruises. He flinched slightly at the initial contact, a soft hiss escaping his lips, but he gradually relaxed under your ministrations.

“Does it cause discomfort?” You inquired, your voice a soothing melody in the quiet chamber. Satoru shook his head minimally, acknowledging the pain was bearable. You continued to work in silence, the tension in Satoru's expression began to ease, replaced by a faint sense of gratitude for your presence and attention. After a while, you finished attending to his injuries, setting aside the medical supplies with a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” He murmured gratefully.

You nodded warmly, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Anything for a friend.”

“Allow me to take the floor, I wouldn't want to impose upon your comfort.”

“Absolutely not. I couldn't possibly let the prince rest on the floor, especially not after enduring injuries.”

Satoru paused momentarily, visibly moved by your steadfast refusal and the genuine regard you held for his well-being. “What do you suggest we do?”

Well.

You both agreed to share the bed, positioning yourselves at opposite sides, ensuring a comfortable distance between you. The room was filled with a quiet tension, each of you mindful of respecting personal space. You found yourself unable to drift into sleep, your gaze fixed upon the expanse of the wall before you. The realization of sharing a bed with the prince was a surreal circumstance, one that kept your thoughts swirling in disbelief. Yet, beyond the novelty of the moment, deeper concerns weighed heavily upon your mind. The circumstances surrounding Suguru and Rosalie gnawed at your conscience, their futures uncertain. Miss Geto's unexpected suggestion that Suguru should consider marrying you instead added another layer of complexity to an already chaotic day.

“(Y/N).”

You started from your thoughts, jolted by the unexpected interruption. “Yes?”

You inquired without turning to face Satoru, feeling a tinge of embarrassment. Sensing your nervousness, Satoru mirrored your gesture, avoiding direct eye contact to put you at ease. “Are you sure you're alright?”

Your shoulders relaxed slightly at his considerate tone, appreciating his effort to make you feel comfortable.

“I'm quite alright. Am I keeping you awake?”

“I can't sleep either.”

After some minutes of absolute silence You admitted honestly, “I must confess, I lied.” Making the other responds with a gentle chuckle from his side of the bed.

“Care to share with me what's in your mind?”

You pushed aside the blanket, straightening your posture as you turned towards the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the walls. “It is a tale of considerable length.” You started, your gaze holding steadfast on the dancing flame. “Are you certain you wish to hear it?”

Satoru shifted, sitting upright with his back against the headboard, still maintaining a respectful distance between the two of you. He turned his gaze towards you, his expression open and attentive. “Of course. That's what friends are for.”

“Marrying Suguru?” Satoru echoed his expression betraying a subtle shade of surprise as you recounted part of your tale. An astute observer might have detected a fleeting trace of jealousy on the prince's countenance. “Have you considered such proposal?”

Your laughter bubbled forth uncontrollably, and you delicately covered your mouth with the back of your hand, muffling the mirth that escaped despite your efforts. “Certainly not. I couldn't fathom myself wedded to Suguru. He's always been akin to a brother to me.”

Satoru released a sigh at your reassuring words, his demeanor visibly relaxing.

“Suguru's affections are already bestowed elsewhere.”

Satoru blinked, his gaze turning inward in contemplation. Before he could respond, you interjected with a soft laugh, finding his reaction quietly amusing. “Rosalie.”

“Ah, yes. Of course, Rosalie.” He's been so engrossed in his own pursuits that he hasn't discerned his friend's feelings.

After quite some time, you both lapsed into a comfortable silence after recounting your respective narratives. Eventually, you broke the quietude once again with an inquiry, “How about you? I believe I've shared my side of the story”

Observing a subtle shift in his expression as his smile began to fade, you swiftly added, “Of course, if you're comfortable sharing it with me.”

Regaining his composure with a measured breath, Satoru responded with introspective grace, “Indeed, I trust you with my thoughts. It's simply a tangled web of complexities, and I find myself uncertain where to commence.”

“There has been someone who disrupted my peace several weeks ago.” He continued quietly, “I'm uncertain of their motives or what they hope to achieve. I'm grappling with whether to trust their claims or dismiss them altogether. The letters I've received suggest that everything I've come to know may not be as it seems.”

“Recently, I endeavored to uncover the truth behind those enigmatic letters. Yet now, having delved into the matter, I find myself at an impasse, unsure of the path forward.”

“Your Highness—pardon me, Satoru.” You called softly, drawing his gaze toward you. “I am confident that you will uncover the truth you seek. Please, don't be too harsh on yourself. I may not be of much assistance, but I would be delighted to help you in any way I can.”

A smile curved Satoru's lips. “You are very kind, (Y/N). I am grateful for your friendship. And please, forgive me for not offering you a place to stay at my estate earlier. It was solely because—”

“Because of your fiancée.” You interpose, anticipating his explanation.

He nodded, a shadow of resignation passing over his features. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“You don't seem particularly content with your fiancée” You observed.

“Would you be content with an arranged marriage if you were in my shoes?” He replied, a touch of irony lacing his words.

“You're right. I would be devastated.” You declared, “It would have been best if you could have extended an invitation to stay at your estate. It's quite uncomfortable sleeping in our formal clothes. What was I thinking?”

“What were we thinking.” He echoed as both of you descended into laughter, the shared amusement easing the awkwardness of your situation.

At least something good came out of this chaotic day. You thought, a faint smile touching your lips as the shared laughter lingered in the air.

However, you wouldn't believe what happened the very next day.

In your slumber, you felt as though you had experienced the most restful sleep in ages as if lying upon a soft cloud that enveloped you in its gentle embrace. Despite your complaints the previous night about the discomfort of sleeping in your formal attire, you had been encased in a cocoon of warmth and tranquility. As you began to stir awake, your eyes gradually took in your surroundings. An unexpected sight greeted you—an expanse of white that momentarily confounded your senses. Attempting to sit up, you were met with the startling realization that you had been resting against Satoru's chest.

Oh no this cannot be happening. You thought alarmed, your mind racing to comprehend the unexpected and intimate position in which you found yourself.

It wasn't long before Satoru began to stir as well. His eyes fluttered open, and it took a moment for his vision to clear. His gaze then traveled to your waist, where one of his arms was still wrapped around you. Realizing this, he quickly withdrew his arm and sat up abruptly.

“I…I apologize. I didn't realize.” He stammered, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

You lowered your gaze, unable to summon the courage to meet his eyes, feeling far too flustered by the situation. “It's alright, we were asleep. It was unintentional.” Or was it not?

Satoru implored you to accompany him back to his estate, where you could be provided with a fresh set of attire and a modest repast before your return home. You agreed, even if you wished to run away and lamented about your previous actions alone.

“Your Highness!” Elthered's voice rang out from a distance as he hurried to Satoru's side. “I am relieved to see you return safely. I received no notice of your departure yesterday.”

Satoru waved off his advisor's concern with a reassuring gesture. “It's quite alright, Ethelred. It was a matter of minor inconvenience, nothing to be troubled about.”

Ethelred then noticed your presence and bowed politely. “Miss (Y/N), it is a pleasure to see you.”

You nodded graciously, “The pleasure is mine. Thank you for receiving me.”

Turning back to his advisor, Satoru continued, “Elthered, please see to it that Miss (Y/N) is provided with a fresh set of clothes, so that we may share breakfast before she departs.”

“Certainly, Your Highness. Please, come right in.”

Ethelred gestured for you to enter first, and you complied with a nod of appreciation. Before he could follow you, Satoru called him back.

“Elthered, is Cressida here?” He inquired.

“No, Your Highness. She has not returned since yesterday.”

Satoru raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in his eyes. “I wonder why.” He mused, having a hint of where she could have been. “Thank you, Elthered. That is all, return to your duties.” The other man nodded trailing behind you to assist you.

“I cannot believe this! How could you all let this happen?” At present, Suguru's voice resonated with anger as he confronted his staff, their negligence apparent in their failure to notify him of your whereabouts the previous day. Beneath his fury, however, lay a profound concern that gnawed at him. He had spent the entire previous day engulfed in both work and alcohol, his vision blurred by both, only to awaken the next morning and realize your absence. The news that you had ventured out and not returned had spurred him into action, his mind swirling with worry.

“We deeply apologize, Lord Geto. It slipped through our notice—”

“There is no excuse! We should have been vigilant, especially concerning a maiden's safety!”

Without another word, Suguru stormed away, intent on leaving the manor to personally search for you, even if he had to search through the heavens and earth. However, his resolve halted abruptly as a royal carriage arrived. From a distance, he discerned your figure disembarking, and without a second thought, he rushed to your side, enfolding you in a tight embrace.

“Where have you been! I was sickly worried about you!” His embrace tightened almost painfully, but you endured it, recognizing that your sudden departure had caused undue distress.

“Forgive me,” You murmured softly, “it was reckless of me to leave without notifying anyone.”

Suguru held you for a moment longer before gently releasing you, his hands framing your face, “Don't think this will be easily dismissed. We need to talk about this.”

You nodded in agreement, but before Suguru could continue, a staff member approached with a letter in hand.

“Lord Geto, Miss (Y/N).” The staff member addressed you both urgently, “A letter has arrived for Miss (Y/N).”

Perplexed and anxious, you accepted the letter and broke the seal with trembling hands. As you read its contents, a gasp escaped your lips, your hand instinctively covering your mouth in shock. The horror coloring your features.

Alarmed, Suguru rushed to your side, kneeling down to grasp the letter and uncover its contents for himself. Soon, his countenance reflected the shock that had washed over you.

Miss (Y/N), the demise of your family did not stem from a mere misfortune or happenstance. They met a tragic fate, subjected to a heinous act of homicide.

🏷: @sadmonke , @tbzzluvr , @billiondollarworth , @gojoluvs , @catobsessedlady , @teramisuyhin , @turtleducker, @blindbabycadder (Taglist is open!)

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[nanistar]

Since it seems like folks are shouting into your inbox about WC and its writing tonight - there's a lot wrong with the series, of course, but what I miss is the POV of a cat who *wanted* to be in the clans *so much* that it meant giving up everything they knew. That POV, of course, being Firestar in TPB (and in a way, some of the cats in DotC). That perspective gave a much more balanced view of the clans' flaws, and it also gave us a character who was willing to fight to change some of the inequitable parts of clan life (at least, given the challenges of that day and age). Firepaw/heart/star was easy to love (and root for as a character) because he loved the clans so much, and not just a love despite the flaws, but love in a way that he was committed to fighting to make them better. The longer he was with TC that changed, of course, but all of the recent POVs have been from cats so steeped in clan life that even the most catastrophic incidents are accepted by the MCs without much resistance. Firestar was radical (both by being a kittypet turned clan leader and in his approach to leadership - moreso early on than later when he became part of that same system). I miss that. But sure, let's have another POV of a cat who is the epitome of upholding the current clan status quo. I'm sure that will bring a diverse viewpoint to conflict resolution and the systemic -isms of the clans (/s of course). Anyway cheers for listening to random people ranting in your askbox, that must be annoying sometimes lol.

i miss the wonder and excitement of the first arc so much ): it's not without it's flaws for sure, but it was just a lot more fun because anything could be happen. i think it's because it was a new world to learn, and by now we know and kinda hate the WC setting. also there were BG characters that had personalities and affected the plot.

also all the villains are boring because they peaked with tigerstar. remember when firestar broke mistyfoot + feather&stormpaw out of prison. what the fuck

we've been praying for a big catastrophic wipe-out event for like 3 arcs now that will level the playing field and i really hope it will happen soon. need more death an despair tbqh

[emblemxeno]

This brings up a question I've always had why DO so many people call Edelgard a revolutionary what am I missing? She's point for point like all politicians who claim it's for the good of the country and go back to how things were when it's just an excuse. Like I don't like bringing real world stuff into this but Israel and Netenyahu? Russia and Putin? Make America great again and Trump? They all use the exact same tactics calling the other side the enemy it's all by strength alone (please ignore the system you just aren't strong enough listen to me I'll save you from the evil scapegoat I'm telling you about), using only people close to them to put into positions of power, it's honestly shocking people are blind to this??? Then again they seem to think the church is just like our church when they're barely alike so idk

We really failed as a fandom tbh.

When the game presents an imperialist autocrat pretending to be (and believing she is) a revolutionary and who sides with terrorists who committed a genocide without much pushback beyond insults until she gets what she wants because, to her and her jackass evil butler, their useful power outweighs being fucking evil and making things terrible.

And a significant portion of the audience says "yes actually, she's a revolutionary who wants to bring change and everyone who's against her wants to maintain a toxic status quo, especially the genocide victim whose warnings and instructions were ignored by humanity."

Despite the fact that, for as much as she claims she's future focused, she fucking venerates the past to an insane degree. She thinks things were better when the other countries didn't exist; she believes things are better when one person on the imperial throne gets to call the shots with no checks on that power (like, just because it's not an inherited position anymore, doesn't mean it's good, since the subjects still don't have a voice); she compliments a past when merit and strength (concepts that are just as brittle and easily taken advantage of as birth status) were what got people high positions without consideration of those below the shot-caller; she thinks things were better when Nabateans had no ability to participate in how things operate-in their own birthplace mind you-because she doesn't view them as beings capable of emotion, logic, or rationality.

Edelgard is a rough textbook example of the evils of modern conservatism, wanting to return to an inequitable and oppressive power structure of the past that shut the majority out while claiming "oh just be better at your job, you whiner." And no amount of her feeling "uwu sad" about her actions changes the fact that she's still doing them.

[brynn-lear]

⌜📽️⌟ ⌜📽️⌟ i. Teyvat Times [Genshin Impact] ii. Velvet Rumors [Persona Series] iii. The Blue Sea Star [Honkai Star Rail] iv. Fodlan Winds [Fire Emblem, to be added] v. Specials [original content, to be added]

【i.】 Teyvat Times

✧ When The Cypress Tree Wilts ✧ Yan!Kamisato Ayato Fanfic Kamisato Ayato, the sole survivor of Teyvat, struggles to cope with grief. He finds solace in the company of a fellow survivor, (Y/n), on the Astral Express. Although the two came from different universes, with him being a fictional character on (Y/n)'s end, he had grown fond of them. Perhaps too fond for Mister Yang's liking. He has seen this story played out once already. 𓂂 Read here

✦ His Dog ✦ Dottore Drabble "You're 0.0035 seconds late. Do better." 𓂂 Read here

✧ Grievances ✧ Yan!Zhongli Comic "Why..." 𓂂 See here

✦ Papers, Please ✦ Thoma Angst Fic Exploring the possibility that the resistance failed, Inazuma's borders became stricter than ever before. Thoma begs the inspector to let (Y/n) in last minute, but it's a far more challenging ordeal for a "fixer" 𓂂 Read here

✧ "So I could've told her-" ✧ Yan!Neuvillette Comic Regency yandere au where Neuvillette doesn't know how to express his affections properly since childhood 𓂂 See here

✦ Little Mermaid ✦ Yan!Al Haitham Comic Aphotic: sea witch grants you a dangerous wish. it affects your lover. 𓂂 See here

✧ Pantomime of the Night ✧ Yan!Arlecchino Fancomic Comic inspired by a yandere vampire!arle fic written by harmonysanreads 𓂂 See here

✦ Capitano's So-Called Liability ✦ Yan!Capitano Series You, cursed to live as an elderly woman after losing a bet to Alice, decided to live your best life by watching thrills as the assistant of the most powerful man in Teyvat: Capitano. However, it seems that with you, he would gladly walk at a slower pace. (#Capitano's So-Called Liability, I'll make a proper masterlist later.) 𓂂 Chapter 1 (Start), 𓂂 Comic 1𓂂 HCs 1

✧ "Ship" In A Bottle ✦ Diluc Drabble Diluc doesn't seem to like the ex-pirate who visits Angel's Share all that much, but he'll change his mind soon enough. 𓂂 Read here

✦ Paging Dr. Zandik ✦ Yan!Dottore Drabble A House MD au because I love House MD it's my childhood. 𓂂 Read here

✧ Inequitable Ransom ✦ Yandere!Kaveh Comic You made a grievous error, thinking that kidnapping the Light of the Kshrawerar would land you some easy money. For the past months, you've done nothing but befriend and lower his guard. The truth, however, was far more depressing than you thought. You've heard this line a million times before, but it's true... The hunter can become the hunted 𓂂 See here

✦ Learning Fear ✦ Yan!Dottore/Agent!Reader Drabble "Agent Without Fear". 𓂂 Read here

【ii.】 Velvet Rumors

✧ A Tasteless Cup ✧ Yan!Akira Kurusu Fanfic After the destruction of your previous reality, you and Akira Kurusu landed in Teyvat. In an effort to stay afloat, Akira had set up a book café in Mondstadt alongside you. However, is this the true flavor of "Freedom"? 𓂂 Read here

【iii.】 The Blue Sea Star

✧ WhoDrankIt ✧ Yandere Various!H:SR OTOME GAME!!! You (name changeable) are a hardworking and full-pledged human cafe owner in Penacony City. Your Dreamjolt Cafe has been a go-to for residents and tourists alike. But your loved ones' lives took a sharp turn for the worst when you decided to take a much-needed vacation back to your homeland, Perlas. While your family eagerly awaited your arrival, you disappeared en route. Where did you go? How did this happen? Who did this? Was it... (Tap to learn more) 𓂂 The Original Comic 𓂂 The Otome Game 1.0 Beta Link

✦ If You Were Church... ✦ Yan!Sunday Art "I'll get on my knees." 𓂂 See here

✧ The Lovely Miss Sparkle! ✧ Sparkle Sketches Come take a look! In 5... 4... 3... 2... 𓂂 See here

✦ He Changed Himself For You... ✦ Yan!Gallagher Comic Gallagher knows more about you than he knows himself. And if he could just mold himself to be your type... 𓂂 See here

✧ The Dog Days Are Over ✧ Gallagher Sketches Just a place for me to dump general Gallagher art sketches 𓂂 See here

✦ A Happy Farm Life ✦ Yandere Dog!Gallagher HCs & Sketches yandere half-dog!Gallagher and forgetful farmer!reader au collection. 𓂂 See here, 2

✧ GALLAGHER PROPAGANDA ✧ Yan!Gallagher HCs He had to win, okay- 𓂂 Read here

✦ I Am The Righteous Hand Of God. ✦ Sunday & Gallagher Animatic I am the devil that you forgot. 𓂂 See here

✧ Don't Be Foolish ✧ Yandere Emanator!Dr. Ratio Comic Don't make me worry, again. 𓂂 See here

✦ Nah Bro We MILKIN' ✦ Yandere Dog!Gallagher Drabbles & Sketches I swore I made this as a joke. 𓂂 See here

✧ Family Matters ✧ Gallagher/RobinHill Drabble Robin keeps getting pestered by your older brother, Sunday. 𓂂 Read here

✦ Holding A Wedding On Top Of His Funeral ✦ Yandere Rancher!Gallagher & Yandere Cowboy!Boothill Art Yandere rancher!Gallagher vs Yandere cowboy!Boothill over a mail order bride!reader fic when? When I'm done with the event probably- 𓂂 See here

✧ Interactions ✧ Yandere!Boothill w/ Speckled Drabble Don't drink with Boothill. 𓂂 Read here

✦ Prime Minister's Child ✦ Assassin!Boothill vs Bodyguard!Argenti Concept The amount of boothill i'm putting in this masterlist is lowkey funny ngl 𓂂 Read here

✧ Citrus Hands ✧ Sunday Drabble Ask him to peel oranges. Trust me. 𓂂 Read here

✦ Daily Respite ✦ Sunday Drabble Potato chips. 𓂂 Read here

【iv.】 Fodlan Winds

✧ “Come on, teach. Don't make me delete your saves.” ✧ Yan!Claude Von Riegan Comic He knows you're playing. But why aren't you choosing Golden Deer...? 𓂂 See here

【v.】 Specials

✧ Perforate and Permeate ✧ Yan!Illumi Zoldyck Comic based on teabutmakeitazure's fic

Red flags start appearing in the form of odd piercings on taxi drivers. The feeling of something horribly off surrounds you, but in the end, some people are always powerless, aren't they?

𓂂 See here

"If you are looking for Ms. Lear's personal journals instead, please follow me."

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

Weird question but do you think its possible to become a zookeeper without a degree? I'm 29 and don't have the time, energy, or money to go back to college and fear I've missed my chance at my dream career. I'm not sure how to get experience or what I could possibly do to help my resume.

It’s definitely possible! Not super common, but possible - and much more so than it would have been a couple of years ago.

When I was in college (early 2010s) and wanting to enter the field, there was a pretty clear pipeline: four year degree, unpaid summer internships, then apply for a part-time or temp position somewhere, and volunteer somewhere until you get a first job. This is still somewhat of the way it’s done at bigger AZA facilities.

But, interestingly enough, things are changing. There’s two things really driving that. The first is the massive push for increased DEAI efforts in the zoo industry. After the big commitments AZA and many individual zoos made during the BLM protests in 2020, one of the big conversations that started was how inequitable zoo hiring and especially internship programs are. Requiring four years degrees and large amounts of unpaid labor before getting a job - and paying poverty wages once someone gets that job - biases success entering and staying in the zoo field towards people with generational wealth. I honestly didn’t think the advocacy that stemmed from those discussions would do much, and I’ve been very pleasantly surprised to see that I was wrong! There’s a been a lot of real movement towards creating paid internships and making hiring requirements more equitable. It isn’t happening everywhere, but I know it’s becoming more and more common (and last year there was a ton of presentations about this on the AZA annual meeting schedule, which is a huge deal). The other thing that’s happening is less formal, but equally fascinating. I’ve been present for a lot of discussions about how there’s a disconnect between what zoos are hiring for (formal education, complex resumes) and what skills the job actually requires. It seems like it’s easier to train people to work with animals and learn their behavior than it is to teach people practical skills like how to do manual labor without hurting themselves and operate heavy machinery. I’ve seen some discussions of how some of their most successful new staff have come from adjacent industries or even just other “blue-collar” jobs that involve similar types of work, regardless of what their academic background is. Which is great! Because that adds to equity and diversity of staff across the industry.

To start off the rest of my answer, there has to be a disclaimer that I’m not in hiring, so I can’t say for sure what will get you a job (and while I’ve volunteered and interned, I have never been formally hired as staff by a zoological facility). So my advice for the rest of this comes from watching and listening to a whole ton of industry folk for the past decade or so, and from what I’ve seen my friends do that’s been successful to get jobs in the field.

In terms of experience, the best thing you can do - and I hate to say this, because it does require a level of privilege to be able to do - is volunteer somewhere. It doesn’t have to be at a zoo. Anything that will give you some animal experience for a resume and references will be valuable: shelters, vet offices, riding barns, farms, even 4H. You need to be able to demonstrate that you’ve worked around a variety of species (even if they’re all domestic) and have people who can speak to the fact that you’re diligent, attentive to detail, and have common sense about things like safety protocols. If you can’t volunteer, try to find a job in any of these areas with similar skills. Or where you can learn them! Say you can’t get an animal care job, but you’re good at phones and people - you could get a desk job at an animal shelter, and help out with cleaning and animal enrichment when possible. Boom! Experience!

It’s also important to learn how to shape your current job experience to an application, which is something I can talk more about and maybe pull in advice from folk actually in hiring for. There’s a ton that can be applicable to animal jobs. Office work? You can probably speak to experience with proprietary software systems and record-keeping (which is a bigger deal than you’d think). Construction / landscaping / similar physical labor jobs? You know how to work hard in a range of weather conditions, keep a project on spec, have experience with complex project planning, and probably know a thing or two about basic safety stuff (don’t store heavy things above your head, lift with your legs, etc). You’re basically looking to communicate “I haven’t worked in this field, but here’s all the skills I have that will translate to this job.”

Realistically, if you’re coming in without a degree or a ton of animal experience, you’re much more likely to be able to get a job at smaller, non-AZA facilities to start (they might not even be zoos - there’s sanctuaries and petting zoos and all sorts of other professional animal care gigs). And this is fine and good! There’s lots of good ones out there. You can always use experience gained there to move up in the field, if it’s your dream to work at an AZA facility specifically. And a lot of people do that - you’ll hear some places talk about how they know they’re training zoos, because their staff get a foot in the door and then consistently leave for other facilities after a couple years. But there’s also a lot of reasons to stay with some of the smaller facilities. They’re often in areas with cheaper cost of living, and so a zookeeping salary will go farther. I’ve also seen that a lot of the smaller facilities - ones where like, staff know and interact with the zoo director frequently - tend to take better care of their staff. They may not be able to increase salary, but I’ve seen some of those facilities go the extra mile for their people in other ways when it’s possible. It’s a very different experience than being a small cog in the giant machines that are many AZA zoos. It’s the sort of thing you have to vet carefully, but when you find a small facility that really invests in it’s people, it can be very worthwhile.

You also have to think about the fact that you don’t have to start in zookeeping to get an animal care job! I’ve seen a lot of people start in education or in summer camp staff, and then use the relationship with the facility and their track record in those jobs to transition into animal care. Especially education, if you’ve got the skill-set, because you’re often working with ambassador animals or in collaboration with the teams that care for them. I’ve seen some people start in facilities or ground crew, too, but I think that’s less common. Getting your foot in the door somehow and building relationships is one of the biggest parts of getting a job in the field if you’re not following the traditional pipeline.

If you’re near enough to a smaller facility that you can visit regularly, do. Learn as much as you can about the zoo and what they do and what they’re involved in, to show that you’re interested and invested, and then go talk to someone there. Tell them exactly what you told me: this is a dream, and you’re really interested in their facility specifically, and you’re wondering what you should do to build a resume to apply for a job there. At worst, you’ll get some advice. At best, they might take a chance on you. I’ve heard of it happening. (The hardest part of this is, honestly, figuring out who to talk to - it’s not the sort of thing where you can just ask a keeper while they’re cleaning. But you can find opportunities, and then ask if there’s someone in management who might have time to answer a couple questions.)

So in short: yes. It’ll take some work and time, and probably some free labor, but it’s doable. More so now than any other time recently. Good luck!

[forthegothicheroine]

I'm rereading Joanna Russ's How to Suppress Women's Writing, at the part where she talks about how even more so than today, an inequitable distribution of household labor in centuries past left married women, especially those with children with less time to devote to writing, more so if they were middle class or lower and had to do all the work personally. I'm thinking about this in regards to Mina, both in and out of universe. Mina is not a radical; her joke about the "New Woman" is gentle, but she evidently doesn't consider herself one. Nevertheless, she expresses admiration for lady journalists and very clearly enjoys writing- but always with an emphasis on how this will help Jonathan. Van Helsing and Seward admire her at her typewriter, but once again, this is for a group effort rather than her personal endeavors. Thanks to a stroke of plot convenience with Mr. Hawkins's will, she and Jonathan were left with more money than they ever expected to have, and will likely go forward with more servants, governesses, and other domestic staff than they would have had otherwise. Will Mina use this unforeseen leisure time to write?

From a Doylist perspective, Bram Stoker (hardly a feminist but not necessarily a misogynist either) can set his heroine up as clever and determined without risking her being seen as selfish or frivolous; she's not neglecting her wifely duties by writing, she's performing them! Still, even in an epistolary novel where everyone has to write at least sometimes, the three characters who seem to write the most for their own pleasure- Jonathan, Mina and Jack- are all shown as adorable intellectuals. It does seem to be a deliberate character trait.

From a Watsonian perspective, Mina probably bonded with Jonathan over their shared love of diaries and plays and train schedules. They each keep their journals, looking forward with excitement to showing them to each other. Their marriage, while unlikely to be fully egalitarian, is one they are planning to enter as partners. It's possible to imagine, years later, editing each other's writing like Mary and Percy Shelley.

It's a nice thought. For fictional characters, I can at least hope.

[qqueenofhades]

Do you have any idea where all the money in education IS going? People talk about administrators, but their percentage of the overall budget seems lowish? Facilities are expensive, but often paid for with bequests, no? Where the hell is all the money going?

The same place it's going in every other capitalistic American enterprise: to senior executives, endowments, and other places that decidedly do not "trickle down" (because you know, it never does). See my many previous posts about how college costs skyrocketed starting in the 1980s and post-secondary higher education was transformed from something in which most of the costs were governmentally subsidized to something expected to be paid (at higher and higher levels) either privately out of the consumer's pocket or from thousands of dollars in student loans. Because you guessed it, Reaganomics.

I can tell you one place it absolutely is NOT going, i.e. salaries of faculty and staff, at least in the less capitalistically sexy fields of study. The university where I work never hurts for money in the business and law schools, but because I am in the humanities/education/history, yeah, our department's budget is not in great shape. Of course, yes, COVID hit the higher-education sector like crazy (as it did everywhere else) and universities haven't figured how to recover from that, but just as with the rest of America, it's a model that is designed to funnel the vast majority of profits, i.e. from skyrocketing student tuition rates and other increased fees, to the highly compensated senior leadership and very little to the academics who do the work that makes the place, you know, RUN.

This is a bugaboo for both me and every other academic I know, because (again, just as with the rest of capitalism) it doesn't HAVE to be this way. I shouldn't be trying to manage a department that has to rely heavily on adjunct faculty every quarter and doesn't have a sustainable long-term scheduling or research model, because we're so badly understaffed with core tenure-track faculty and they won't let us hire any more, while constantly cutting our budget and giving us laughable raises (mine, after getting sterling performance reviews across the board, was a whole... 72 extra cents an hour. I wish I was joking). There is money tied up in the institution and the establishment (and as noted, I work at a well-regarded and highly-ranked private university, so it's not a matter of not having enough), but the system distributes it in a way that is inequitable and results in enforced scarcity, especially in the humanities. It's not that there isn't money to pay us fairly, it's just that they have chosen not to, because they exist in the same capitalist system as the rest of the west.

This is why there have been strikes by graduate and early-career academics in both the UK and US (I have worked/studied/taught in both places, and they're both BAD for paying lower-level academics and even established-career academics), because they simply do not pay us enough to live on or build a career on (by a long shot, ESPECIALLY if you're the only person in your household and don't have shared expenses with a partner/roommate/several roommates). This is after most of us have several advanced degrees and the debt resulting from such. We get burned out, we can't make a living in this field, we leave, and it's hollowed out even further. So. Yeah.

[transmutationisms]

@amarocit yes i would love to hear your analysis of the french context here! so i'm borrowing a lot from dorothy roberts, who talks about this in chapter 7 of 'killing the black body'—roberts makes a distinction between the american liberal's demands for "reproductive liberty" (a guarantee of freedom from specific forms of government intervention) and what she calls "reproductive equality", which would be a more expansive guarantee of reproductive choice that takes into account the background factors of social inequality restricting eg black women and poor women from accessing the full range of options in reproductive care / decision-making.

part of what's at stake here, obviously, is the simple fact that the right to abortion in roe v wade operated on the background assumption that health care is essentially income-restricted. but there is also a whole web of legislation of government action that perpetuates the inferior status of black women, and that prevents them from making all manner of choices about having / raising children. so, a negatively conceived right to abortion is simply insufficient to eliminate the subordination of black women. it's a right that was basically designed around the desires and needs of (wealthy) white women for whom "reproductive choice" had become very highly focussed on a right to abortion rather than, say, a right to the kind of overall economic stability that would allow them to actually access that procedure, or indeed a right to avoid the kinds of state coercive measures that sought to control black women's reproduction in other ways (eg, welfare policies that seek to discourage black women from having children, or punish them for doing so; forced sterilisation; various other means of trying to discourage them from having children). wealthy white women's desire to access abortion has basically come up against natalist pressures for them to reproduce; this is simply not the case for all demographics in the us. as long as demands for abortion rights assume (tacitly or explicitly) that everyone seeking an abortion is fighting against the pressure to HAVE children, it's impossible to adequately address the needs of those who are actually being coerced by various state policy in the opposite direction.

people have also made a lot of the fact that the roe decision hinged on a 'right to privacy' rather than an affirmation of bodily autonomy—obviously i don't think that was good, but i am honestly not convinced that even the best-written supreme court decision would have made much difference in this respect lol. as we've seen in the past few years regarding the court, and the past few decades regarding abortion specifically, what the court says is not really set in stone any more than any legislation is. i think abortion opponents would have been pretty determined to chip away at any legal conception of a right to abortion. it seems to me that the underlying issue here is, again, that the right to abortion was basically grafted onto larger structures of inequality and the subordination of black women; i don't think 'liberty' (if we want to use that word) can really exist so long as the underlying oppressive structures are still there. obviously the supreme court is not designed to be capable of challenging those structures because it exists within them and upholds them as an arm of the state.

in any case i guess my main point here is: a right to abortion was always going to be shaky and inequitable in the us so long as it was configured as a very limited freedom from specific forms of government intervention, rather than being placed in context with the larger social forces that act to constrain people's ability to make free choices about their bodies / reproduction. abortion needs to be available freely and on-demand, along with things like contraception, but also along with actual freedom from government coercion NOT to reproduce, which is something that the state directs primarily at black and poor women. abortion framed as a negative right has no redress for this type of issue because again, the us abortion rights movement has been so driven by wealthy white women who were in a position where their main concern was getting access to the procedure, rather than fearing being forced to have it (or being forcibly sterilised and so forth).

when we flip it around and start thinking about what's required to actually achieve equality and reproductive freedom, it's clear that just guaranteeing legal access to abortion is wildly insufficient for those subjugated by legal and systemic antiblackness, living in poverty, &c. and it's pretty depressing that the mainstream us abortion rights movement has never been able to grapple with eg, the very real and ongoing legacy of eugenics in welfare policy, white women's feminism, and yes the efforts to provide access to contraception and abortion. as long as these things are excluded from advocacy of abortion rights, and abortion is conceived as a freedom-from (a specific manner of state intervention), we're not actually able to discuss the broader factors that constrain people's ability to make free choices about their bodies and reproduction: poverty, racism, policies in response to these factors that may take either pro- or anti-natalist stances, depending on the state's goals and the specific population it's trying to control or manage.

anyway yeah: would be very interested in hearing what you have to say about the french context!

[ludiharambasha]

I think I can finally put my finger on what I find wrong about Hazbin Hotel and why I think it is neoliberal dribble that fails at its social commentary.

I am definitely going to write about redemption arcs more (a post about a different show is coming), but it should not come as a surprise that I am not a fan of them-they are a rather cheap narrative tool that breeds uncreative, stale, mediocre storylines. However, when the central theme of a work of fiction is redemption in the context of heaven and its righteousness, that could be written in an interesting way, especially if the very concept of redemption is deconstructed. And, for some time, the show seemed to be upping the game in terms of the seriousness of its narrative as it went on, yet failed to deliver on this.

There is a serious issue I have with the author's idea of what redemption means in the context of heaven's hegemony and how it reflects our world. There is a critique of this inequitable system in which "hell is forever", and so is heaven- once fallen there are no second chances, no turning back, and those graced can never do enough wrong to be punished for their misdeeds. And this critique is utterly toothless in my opinion, not in and of itself, but because the author tries to couple it with the possibility of getting redeemed. If redemption did not exist in the world of Hazbin Hotel, then the story's theme about Heaven and hell would make sense- there is a brutal system that punishes some for their misdeeds but does not punish mass murder and terror. A hypocritical and arbitrary system in which the powerful make sure that those in power stay in power through that false morality. They quite literally live in a gated community oblivious to the fact that they live in such bliss because there is an army in their midst that goes to commit purges onto the underclass, the sinful. But if you make redemption an actual thing, something a sinner can achieve, then all the fault is shifted onto the sinner. The problem is no longer the segregation, the mass murdering of the underclass, and the fact that eternal torment exists in the first place. No, the problem is that more people don't get their ticket to the Pearly Gates, the problem is that there is not enough social mobility, not the unjust system itself. Does this not remind you of the American dream? That if one just works hard enough they may be getting their seat at the table?

No one seems to be attacking Charlie's dream on this front-eternal torment itself is unjust, not just the annual exterminations- they are a culmination of this problem. Charlie's dream ultimately does not challenge the status quo-it affirms heaven and works within its confines. Who gets to say who gets to be redeemed, especially an entity that allows genocidal maniacs into their ranks?

And I don't think the show lacks merit entirely, but this tendency in Western fiction to use ideas of revolutionaries and then water them down so it is more palatable to a neolib audience is tiring and should be criticized more often.

[randomnameless]

why don't you want jurgdral remakes? are you afraid they will be localised like fodlan games or modified like shadows of valentia?

Mmh...

Lolcalisation aside, I'd say the biggest thing I'm dreading with those remakes is IS' (if FEH is any indication) willingness to retcon those older games to, I suppose, make them more "trendy" or approchable for a "modern audience".

Sure, FEH might goof here and there, but take the "Miccy founded the DB" take - it's present at least in more than one unit so imo, it's no goof at all, what is it supposed to mean? That a Miccy who is only a person who joins an existing group because she embraces their ideals and thus puts them above her own "need" to hide her existence, as a Branded, is not as... bankable as a Miccy who forms her own ragtag group of randoms to fight against Daein, giving hints at her later role as the leader of the Daein army?

I've ranted enough about IS retconning Lyon and Magvel in general (tfw Eph was caught by Grado lel) but it follows the same pattern, OG!Lyon (and FE8 in general) falls because of his very human and earthly desires - he might have ideals and all, but at the end of the day, he falls because of his love and adoration/obsession for the twins and that is something he cannot fight against - FEH!Lyon sassing Fomortiis is just, no. Fomortiis always has the last laugh in FE8 (at least with Lyon and even, I'd say with the playable cast because, again, his soul isn't erased, he is stuck again in a shiny rock, just like what happened in the lore, and led to Lyon's possession. Who can be sure that in 800 years after Ephraim's adventures, L'Arachel's descendant won't be seduced by Fomortiis' power and free him from his shiny rock, like Lyon did?).

FE15 is its own thing lol - but there is a possibility for Jugdral to be pissed on like Magvel and Tellius were in FEH, and I guess, for any Jugdral fan that's terrible.

Sure, FEH seems to treat Jugdral verse with, uh, careful consideration but hey - if the Ayra wanking is any indication, even Jugdral isn't immune to retcons to make a popular character even more #badass, plot be damned.

Add some eggtivation here'n'there, and I wouldn't be surprised if we had some NPCs or even characters in support dialogues explaining how major holy blooded people aren't always better in the domain corresponding to their holy blood than non HB people because non HB people can bypass their lack of dragon blood with hard work - completely pissing on this core Jugdralian mechanic that was translated in FE4's gameplay by weapon rank.

Is it gatekeeping? idk.

For me, it's just that I fell in Jugdral Hell some years ago (nearly a decade!) and despite its defaults, I still like this verse very much so I'd like a remake that is as faithful as possible to that thing I came to know all those years ago, maybe to exchange with new (and non new lol) fans about that verse!

But if we get, idk, a very #badass Deedee who doesn't, idk, mind killing a kid or two to show how #girlboss she is, well, for me, that wouldn't be Jugdral at all, but some sort of adaptation using those characters but writing them OOC.

Of course I can't say I have a better reading and take on those characters as IS themselves, but after seeing A!Mareeta's FB where she is supposed to be at her best/peak performance, and IS still wrote her to be "below" Ayra in terms of ability when Mareeta's Major Holy Blood means her skills with the blade are naturally superior to her "great aunt" 's skills I still think there's something that's missing.

It's as if we had Reinhardt throw better spells/be stronger at Thunder Magic than Peak!Ishtar, or worse, Azelle on a pony teaching FE5!Saias how to throw fire spells.

It's just, not possible in the Jugdral verse, because Jugdral verse is pretty inequitable and major HB people are cheat codes compared to minor HB people or non HB people. Now with that being said, the story is about what those people with magic blood that are cheat codes do and if they use their powers for good or stupid things. It's not about Midayle finally showing Aidean that his skills with a bow are superior to her sister's so now, he is finally strong enough to protect her from Verdane ruffians.

But after Fodlan's false "yeah but crests aren't the alpha and omega and yet i'm never going to tell you what they do because otherwise my excuse for worldbuildling falls apart", I wouldn't be surprised if Jamke, in a support, would teach Bridget how to use a bow.

:/

So yeah, it's better not to have any remakes.

[sophfandoms53]

I like most of this cast so far in the same way I liked most of bb25’s cast last year where they had SO MUCH potential but stupid fucking twists and powers kept getting in the way of REAL gameplay (not to mention the inequitable comps and the bias fucking episode edits) that the BB25 cast never TRULY got to play the Big Brother game yk.

I just hope all this ai shit this year doesn’t ruin the genuine potential the bb26 cast has because this group seems solid and I’d hate to see that wasted bc the producers wanna milk tf out of their stupid twists

[daggerzine]

Film Review: Rubika Shah’s White Riot: The untold story of how a motley crew of punks stood up against racism (2019- review by Dina Hornreich)

White supremacy is unfortunately not a new thing in the history of humankind. The Ku Klux Klan has been lurking around America’s states since approximately 1865. In Britain, a similarly racist minded group called The National Front formed around 1965 which was about 30 years after Hitler’s rise in Europe. Their particularly verbose leader at the time, Enoch Powell, gained appalling notoriety for perpetuating the variety of racist/fascist notions for “sending the blacks back” and similarly deporting “those immigrant invaders.” It’s the same old story: greedy vs. needy. I guess when vital resources seem threatened (like food, clothing, shelter, etc.); we tend to see the worst of humanity as a result. Competition versus cooperation, I guess?

How do we decide if someone (or certain “peoples”) should “stay or go” – and why? It’s a revolting proposition at its outset; yet it is not uncommon whatsoever for families, neighborhoods, communities, cities, states, commonwealths, republics, countries… I guess some people wanna play god? (Or maybe it really just is good to be the king?)

By associating needs for employment, housing, healthcare, etc. with those most affected, white supremacists dismiss issues like poverty (and other kinds of suffering) by blaming those who make those inequitable disparities most uncomfortably apparent. Anti-racist responses should open us up to considering numerous possibilities for challenging the various forms of oppression that impact everyone – not just the most disenfranchised. The false impression that anything is “for us by us” (or otherwise limited, exclusionary, inaccessible, etc.) makes it clear that the simple necessities for living are just matters of basic human decency. I guess it’s easier to blame the victims, relegate the deprivation of human needs as particular to the specific experiences of the “other,” and continue to rationalize their dehumanization in order to distance one’s self from some commonly painful experiences (rather than owning privilege). Differences are not deficits -- unless we truly want them to be.

Rubika Shah’s film, “White Riot,” reminds us that we always have options to rally together as citizens against tyrannical leaders; and it further reinforces the substantial power that music, punk, and DIY has always had in prioritizing social welfare issues. Taking its name from an easily misunderstood Clash song (“White riot, I wanna riot. White riot, a riot of my own”) their approach affirms how the issues that most visibly affect people of color are the exact same issues affecting all people.

This film depicts the particularly compelling story of the “Rock Against Racism” (RAR) cultural movement which took place in response to the surprising support that The National Front’s Enoch Powell had received from artists like Eric Clapton and Rod Stewart; a public response that clearly disgusted many of their fans who rightfully had no patience for colonialist kinds of territorial nonsense. (i.e. Eric Clapton will never be the one who “shot the sheriff”!!)

But please don’t get me wrong, either: it’s no secret that that swastika emblazoned kinds of garbage was also surfacing in punk circles, too. However, RAR activists were making a concerted effort to harness its raw energy into something decisively more socially responsible; and this film demonstrates how impressively successful they were in accomplishing their goals by distributing their own publication (“TempoRARy hoarding”), arranging gigs, and otherwise providing outlets for rallying together against bullying and prejudice.

RAR’s anti-racist political efforts for justice-focused, community organizing endeavors finally culminated into a big rallying “carnival” that took place in Victoria Park. It featured The Clash, Steel Pulse, Tom Robinson, Poly Styrene, Sham 69, and Alien Kulture. And they pulled it off with great style! If you’re somewhat familiar with Julie Burchill and Tony Parsons’ book The Boy Looked at Johnny: A Rock and Roll Obituary (Pluto Press) <https://www.thevinyldistrict.com/storefront/graded-on-a-curve-the-boy-looked-at-johnny-the-obituary-of-rock-and-roll/>?) then you too might consider this film’s content even more endearing as a result – but that’s more of a recommendation than a requirement. 

[chronicallycouchbound]

What’s So Wrong With Having Heroes?

When I was a little kid, I wanted to be a doctor or a veterinarian. I wanted to help heal. And even as a small child, it felt like my calling.

Most kids dream of becoming a hero. The firefighters, the builders, the astronauts. The one’s who get medals and standing ovations. There’s many very monetarily successful movies and comics about all the superheroes we dream of. The people we want to save us. At one point, I thought I could be a hero. I wanted to be.

Being a hero wasn’t an issue for me though. People started to notice acts of kindness in me, and when they held that in high regard, I did too. I did everything I could to help others. It came naturally.

I bandaged my siblings and pets and strangers up. I gave advice like a wise old man, my aunt thanked me for helping her to leave her abusive husband when I was 8. I saved two people from drowning when I was 10. I talked friends out of suicide a dozen times. I became a street medic. I have saved dozens of lives, often under extraordinary circumstances. By definition, I fit the one for ‘hero’.

And I have so many issues with it. This isn’t a humble brag.

I genuinely think that we, as a society, put certain people on pedestals that shouldn’t be. I don’t think anyone should be. The hierarchy of heroes is inequitable and unrealistic. I think we should do the right thing because it’s the right thing, not to win an award or a badge of honor.

I see headlines all the time that are just ‘hero firefighter does their job!’. They’re paid to do this, of course they’re going to do it. As an abolitionist, I see cops hailed as heroes, usually for doing the objectively right thing, and it seems to magically erase the realities of what they do, the systemic harm they perpetuate. It’s the entirety of the ‘there’s some good cops’ narrative. And it causes great detriment to our communities because it makes it seem like the police do more good than bad.

Society particularly loves to paint white, cishet, abled, rich, educated, affluent men as heroes. The ones who can save us. Our hero.

And yet we ignore the people who are saving lives left and right, like people who use drugs who Narcan their friends. Or trans youth who stay up all night with their suicidal friends. Or the street medics who set up civilian ambulances for their under-served and neglected communities.

No one’s giving them medals.

Beyond that, people aren’t checking in on heroes. I’ve heard “you’re incredible!” and “thank you” a million times, but rarely do people genuinely check in on me after I’ve rescued someone.

And I usually need it. I’m at my worst mentally and usually physically after a rescue. It often takes months or years to process those events— they are traumatic for the rescuer too. Especially those of us without formal training or those of us who have attempted to rescue someone and lost them. We’re left to drift among all of these confusing and conflicting emotions, sometimes never understanding why.

The worst thing I hear: “I could NEVER do what you did”. It breaks me apart every time.

I don’t want to be doing this alone. I don’t want to have to save people over and over. I can’t save everyone.

I have to repeat that last one like a mantra sometimes.

I can’t save everyone. And so often, I still try to. I jump in without thinking. I throw myself into danger and worry about myself last, or, never. And it usually ends with me being seriously injured.

When I’d bandage up my siblings and pets it was after our parents hit us. I stepped in front of them as often as I could. I swallowed so much water while trying to save someone from drowning because they kept pulling me under that I puked. My 20-something-year-old boyfriend I dated when I was 16 stabbed me with the knife I had just talked him out of cutting himself with. He went on to keep caving my face in and choking me until I was blue. And of course, I’ve been seriously injured dozens of times during rescues. My body physically hurts so much afterwards, let alone the emotional toll.

I have to wonder: What would happen if I didn’t step in? Would it be so bad?

But of course, my brain always answers with a thousand of the worst case scenarios— or, just with what happened anyways. Sometimes people die no matter how much you try to fight to save them. And that has to just be what it is.

I think sometimes people live, and that just has to be what it is too.

But when we ascribe people as heroes, the message we send is that some people are heroes, some people aren’t. And I feel so strongly that this isn’t true. I believe that everyone has the capacity to help others, and so often, they do so in seemingly insignificant ways, and their deeds are not recognized.

Small acts of kindness are never small.

Life saving happens in everyday, ordinary ways. Sometimes what has saved my life has been something the other person will never remember or know. The Christmas cards from the elementary schoolers sent to the homeless shelter I lived at. The partners and friends who sat with me until I was safe on my own. My friends who held my hand as my heart beat dangerously fast, their presence being all I could feel, replacing the tightness in my chest. My cat cuddling me, purring until she snores. Strangers holding doors, strangers carrying my groceries, strangers checking on me. The dozens of items from my Amazon wishlists that have kept me alive.

I wish I could say how thankful I am to the community that’s kept me alive. How every time they’ve called me a hero, it’s because they made me possible. That they’re a hero just as much as I am.

I read ‘Mutual Aid: Building Solidarity During This Crisis (And The Next)’ by Dean Spade recently. In it, Dean describes “leader-less and leader-full” movements. It’s exactly what we need in the world. Hero-less and hero-full communities. We don’t need a select few— we need communities and societies structured around giving care. We need it to be standard, not extraordinary.

Personal responsibility can lead to community responsibility. We could have thriving, beautiful communities where we all care for each other so fully that no one single person is a savior, because we are all uplifted equitably.

I urge everyone I know to be more like the heroes they uplift. To think about what values they hold in high regard in others and to apply them to their own actions. To be what they already are, and acknowledge it.

You’re included.

[dailyanarchistposts]

III. Free Land

Volumes have been written upon the land question and the end is not yet, for that there is a land question is now indubitable. The complacent assumptions of earlier Economists, who were simply satisfied with debating how much of the burden of taxation should fall upon land, as the physiocrates in France; or later writers whom Malthus’ deductions called out, who hardly felt the need for justifying ownership in land as distinguished from chattels; as well as the labored defence of modern writers who have diligently sought for reasons; – have all been called into question. Throughout the whole century, from Godwin {16} down to the correspondent of the village weekly, from the man of intellect struggling with logical propositions to the sentimental admirer of nationalism, voices have been raised against land ownership. But they were scarcely heard[,] so strongly entrenched was “the great political superstition” – that the State could do no wrong. Yet in the hold this question has now taken on public attention, the rapid growth of a conviction that monopolization of land is indefensible, the awakening of conscience to consider whether he is not a thief who deprives willing hands from idle land, we see new evidence of the ever increasing assertion of the industrial type to a hearing. And here at the outset we are brought to apply the plumet test of progress, the application of the sociological “law of equal freedom” to the use of land. We have seen from our premises that land is an essential prerequisite of social growth, aside from the fact that it forms the surface upon which life can alone exist. The question therefore becomes pertinent: By what manner of land tenure is social progress best subserved and equity secured? Equity would seem to give but one answer, however expediency trimmers may try to obscure it. No title deed can give more than possession, the equity remaining unsettled. If the question be asked whence the original grantor obtained the right to dispose at will of that which constitutes the primal source of wealth, no answer more rational can be given than the right of conquest. In other words compulsory might having obtained possession by enforced ejectment or subjugation of its former inhabitants, the lapse of time has converted an original wrong into an accepted right, a process of militant reasoning which will not bear examination here.

Again, we are told that granting the original title to be defective in equity, still the fact of the original spoliators having been long dead, it would be equally inequitable to resort to new spoliation upon innocent inheritors. Waiving the point that under “the law of equal freedom” no writ of ejectment could be served upon the occupier and user, the objection is too specious for prolonged investigation, for it assumes that an indefinite lapse of time can condone a definite wrong; that the receiver of stolen goods is justified in retaining ill-gotten possession; that possession once acquired gives equitable warrant to deny use to land, a claim in which time is no factor; a denial of the equal right of the living because the dead have otherwise disposed of the soil; the claim that personal ownership may exist where no labor has been expended; that artificially created privilege is of greater force than natural necessities; that one generation may determine upon what terms a succeeding one may exist; that natural resources may be monopolized for the purpose of exaction; that equity is a creature of and subservient to custom; finally, it justifies human slavery wherever it may exist.

That no generation has the right to deprive the unborn of equal opportunities (not raising the question that an ever-changing generation is not a determinable quantity), resolves itself in final analysis that no one has a right to do so; and what no one possesses only metaphysical reasoning can find in two or more; a proposition which is commended to our single tax adjustors of other people’s needs. That man’s right to utilize the source of existence is a common one, can only be denied by those who hold to the metaphysical philosophy of the last century that rights are natural and conferred; but this involves a confusion in terms between common and special rights, the latter being privileges, the opposite of which are duties; while rights said to be inherent and inalienable is [sic] but the assertion of “the law of equal freedom” and their opposite necessarily are privileges. Consequently “rights” are evolved, not instituted, and the assertion of rights is negative rather than positive in character, being a protest against inequitable relations. Thus a “right to the soil” is but the equal freedom of all to utilize the means of life itself involving no “duties” but protesting against privileges, an assertion that at once denies encroachment by any combination of persons dead or living, and affirms it as a condition of existence of which the denial is tantamount to enslavement. Land ownership therefore involves a pre-emption lien upon the labor of others, and logically glosses poverty into a pre-ordained condition, making nature a steward for the privileged. That labor exists for land rather than land for labor; that custom, accident, or greed is of superior validity to natural requirements of existence; that the functions of life may be scheduled in a legislative “bill of rights” as a compass to attain liberty; – are all involved in any justification of either individual or collective ownership and control of use of vacant land, and this is contained in our system of land tenure.

But Economists, and however much they may strive to reject the qualifying prefix, “political”, are almost always the sycophantic adulators of State authority, have been driven to the justification of land ownership that it alone guarantees adequate incentives to the application of labor and the gratification of social needs. But this also assumes too much; in that he whom the title deed declares owner is better qualified to determine social needs than one without such deed; that incentive to exertion is furthered by obstacles; that the owner thereby becomes the natural guardian of the non-owners; that his heirs-at-law inherit this prerogative; that artificial distinction[s] born of invasion of equal freedom are natural endowments; that ownership and inheritance work a social alchemy in character not attainable by the disinherited; that the main incentive to tilling the soil is to divide the profits of exertion with another; that personal and family requirements would be insufficient but for the benignant influence of rent; that social relations under equality of opportunities would tend to savagery; [sic] that equity is never “practical” till it has received the sanctifying blessing of inequity; that between the social efficacy of Rent and the saving grace of Jesus Christ the wheels of industry are kept free from rust and social blessings result here for the legally elect and eternal happiness hereafter to the drudges employed.

But if individuals have no right, in equity, to usurp control over land other than lies in use, has society such right? Such is the assumption of the twilight reformers of the left wing of the authoritarian army who marshal under the borrowed standard of George, or are looking backward to Sparta and Peru with Bellamy. {17} But this also assumes too much. It assumes that beyond equal rights there are social rights; that over and above the equal freedom of individuals there is a desired mythical liberty of the collectivity to secure; that the aggregation of individual personalities constituting society has a life of itself, thus involving the postulate of militancy – that man exists for the State; that in social life the whole is greater than the sum of its parts; that rights increase in some metaphysical manner and become incarnate in half the whole plus one; that industrial ends are best served by compulsory “direction;” that power possessed by no unit becomes regnant where three or more accidently [sic] meet to cultivate land; that robbery in the individual case becomes a social virtue when committed by two upon one; that land ownership being a moral crime in “the great grandson of Captain Kidd” {18} becomes a collective blessing when sanctified by taxation; that man’s capacity to intelligently co-operate with his fellows is limited, but the capacity to adjust differences and regulate equity by half the crowd plus one is unlimited, and that collective equity is thus obtainable; that economic rent is a natural factor and not the creature of artificial conditions; that collective ownership carries with it ability to use independent of monopoly over exchange. Our equal right to natural resources can no more be curtailed by a generation living than by one dead. It is neither the fact that of being living nor dead that decides the claim an usurpation, but the fact that it is prima facie an invasion of the law of equal freedom, which constitutes the industrial ideal, by justifying intermeddling interference to regulate it.

The argument of the collectivist is logically the same as that of the orthodox Economist that “direction” is necessary to civilization and commercial progress to preserve incentive and prevent idleness. Thus, insisted upon by all Economists, is thus tersely put by Roscher: {19}

“We so frequently hear rent called the result of the monopoly of land, and an undeserved tribute paid by the whole people to landowners, that it is high time we should call attention to the common advantage it is to all. There is evidently danger that, with the rapid growth of population, the mass of mankind should yield to the temptation of gradually confining themselves to the satisfaction of coarse, palpable wants; that all refined leisure, which makes life and the troubles that attend it worth enduring, and which is the indispensable foundation of all permanent progress and all higher activity, should be gradually surrendered. Here rent constitutes a species of reserve fund, which grows greater as these dangers impend by reason of the decline of wages and of the profits of capital, or interest. Besides, precisely in times when rent is high, the sale and divisibility of landed estates act as a beneficent reaction against the monopoly of land, which is always akin to the condition of things created by rent. “But it is of immeasurably greater importance that high rents deter the people from abusing the soil in an anti-economic way; that they compel men to settle about the centers of commerce, to improve the means of transportation, and under certain circumstances to engage in the work of colonization; while, otherwise, idleness would soon reconcile itself to the heaping together of large swarms of men. The anticipation of rent may render possible the construction of railroads, which enable the land to yield that very anticipated rent.”

Let us briefly analyze this.

1. It starts out like the protectionists’ plea for infant industries; it denies man’s capacity for freedom and with the assumption that other men must guide them. As when “infant” industries mature protection is still claimed, so here, notwithstanding progress, infancy is still maintained.

2. It assumes that because progress has resulted under onerous restrictions, therefore it is because of these restrictions. Consequently, without the restrictions upon activity against which all progress has been a struggle, he would lose all incentive.

3. That equality of opportunities would substitute coarse and palpable wants only for the refined leisure of the few that now casts a reflected light upon the many condemned by it to enforced poverty.

4. That receiving rent may tend to “refined leisure” may be conceded, but to this wholesale want of faith in human nature, the readiness with which society not only adapts itself to greater freedom, but also extends refinement, wherein supply naturally follows demand, is an all-sufficient answer. This distrust has ever been the tyrant’s plea and the slaveholder’s excuse. It is flatly contradicted by the progress of the race which shows that every removal of a burden artificially imposed has given greater elasticity to the springs of activity, and roves that these springs lie in human nature and not in the adventitious props men in their ignorance have sought. The same argument would justify feudal tenure as well.

5. That great cities as centers of commerce are essential to social life is an unproved assumption, and leads to the inference that poverty, “which is always akin to the condition of things created by rent,” must be preserved to justify artificial incentive.

The sovereignty of the individual, as the goal of all progressive advancement, recognizes no source of compulsion, whether incarnate in priest, king, or alleged collectivity. In use of land it sees but an essential requirement of existence, and the only possible equitable adjustment is upon the law of equal freedom where no title can be considered valid save that of occupancy and sue. The quantity of land is not yet restricted nor can we aver that it ever will be. The entire population of the globe could live well in Europe with far less density than now prevails in some of its localities.

With occupancy and use the sole tenure every square rod of unused land capable of use, would be thrown open on equal terms, and the much vaunted “law of natural rent” be quickly seen not to have the substance of “baseless fabric of a dream.” {20} The “natural productiveness of best soil,” which so alarms our twilight adjustors of social relations as needing a collective curb, never remains the same after use begins. Its yield determines no “natural rent,” for the claim ignores the value of labor, experience, manures, etc., to, at first appearance, less inviting land. The question of what would constitute “use” would not cause half the difficulty it now does to inventors of ready-made objections, for as co-operation could always guarantee security, what would be regarded as use would quickly settle itself.

Therefore, we conclude that an essential requirement of the industrial type of society is free land; that is, freedom of access to utilize unused land, and that its frustration in whatever form clothed is born of the militant regime, reactionary, and detrimental to progress and order.