#Vengeance ending supremacy

[celibibratty]

[homosexuhauls]

Can you imagine if a white lesbian public figure brutally murdered two trans women in an interracial relationship and their black son? The headlines, the think-pieces, op-eds...we would never hear the end of it. It would be blamed on lesbian communities as a whole and the transmisogyny and white supremacy we obviously perpetuate on a daily basis just by existing. Cotton ceiling discourse would be back with a vengeance. There would be rallies and vigils, there would be calls to "Stand by your trans", there would be "#LWithTheT" marches. There would be a community in mourning, full of fury and hurt and self-righteous rage at the nasty lesbian aggressors who clearly caused this anti-trans hate crime. There would be no room for nuance and all lesbians would be painted with the "evil cis white dykes want us dead" brush. All of this would be seen as a completely acceptable and understandable response to a brutal act of anti-trans violence by a lesbian perpetrator.

So where is the noise? Where is the clamouring? Where is the sound and fury, when a famous white trans activist murders an interracial lesbian couple and their black son? I don't expect (or want) it to spark a radfem revolution, but why is the silence around the Dana Rivers murder case so deafening? Why does no one in the so-called LGBTQ+ community care enough to loudly and proudly mourn and celebrate these women and their son? Charlotte, Patricia and Benny deserve to be remembered. They deserve our sound and fury. Even if it's difficult, even if the optics don't suit your world views, we cannot ignore some injustices and claim to fight against others. The cowardly LGBT+ media organisations and charities covering their eyes and pretending that this act of violence never happened, they will happily call on lesbians for solidarity this pride month, despite showing no solidarity for a lesbian family slaughtered by an apparent member of our own "community". How can we call this anything other than a cover-up, or at the very least, deliberate and contrived ignorance?

Patricia Wright. Charlotte Reed. Benny Toto Diambu-Wright. Their lives were stolen from them on November 11th 2016. I can find no obituarities, and minimal mainstream media coverage of their murders. For many years, it felt almost as if their suffering had been forgotten. It has taken six and a half years for their murderer to be convicted and sentenced to life without parole, a sentence which Rivers will spend in a women's prison. Is this justice, or a pale imitation of such? Either way, I hope this family may finally rest in peace and power, and that their loved ones may begin to move forwards.

Pat and Char, as they were known to friends and family, are survived by two children. Patricia worked as a school teacher and deaf interpreter for schools, while Charlotte worked in a salon known locally for being trans-inclusive. Patricia was also an artist and talented actor, having considered a career in performing arts after high school. Charlotte had previously been a member of an all-female motorcycle club, which Rivers was also involved in. Both Charlotte and Patricia were also former regular attendees of MichFest, a feminist music festival which was closed down in 2015, following years of protests by trans women including Dana Rivers. 19-year-old Benny had just graduated high school and, according to his brother, hoped to become a nurse.

A victim impact statement was read out by Richard Wright, Patricia's younger brother, during Rivers' sentencing. I can't find the full text but much of the statement can be found in the Berkeley Scanner article below. Wright describes the impact of finding out that his sister and her family had been "assassinated in their own home" and the traumatising experience of searching for important paperwork at the bloodied crime scene that was once their home. According to Richard, Dana Rivers "chose her [sic] entitlement and narcissism over basic human decency" and "chose violence, cruelty, sadism and entitlement — over and over and over again." This is in reference to the length of court proceedings due to Rivers' changing pleas, as well as the brutality of the crime itself, which was carried out using guns, knives and arson. According to the judge, the murders of Patricia, Charlotte and Benny were "the most depraved crime that I’ve handled in the criminal justice field in 33 years."

No one but Rivers is responsible for these heinous crime, but all of us are responsible for ensuring history is not forgotten, and that the stories of those taken from us continue to be told. And when we tell their stories, in sound and in fury, we must ensure they do not fall on deaf ears.

"They were real people, not collateral damage...They deserve to be seen."

- Richard Wright's victim impact statement

For more information, see below:

[scienceoftheidiot]

I'll be evil. Fir the weekend sleepover 03!Roy or brotherhood Roy? 🤭

You're the most evil person ever !!!!!!!! OMG

I can't choooooseeeee 😭

I love them both so much

But. Okay.

If I have to chose.

You know who I'm choosing.

MANGA ROY FTW

I OWNED YOU THERE SEE. MANGA ROY SUPREMACY

Putting a readmore just for the suspense and get my vengeance by making you click a button lol

Okay you want me to tear my heart out of my chest and chose between those two then

03!Roy because he needs more love and he was so much fun to write especially face to face (kind of but also literaly at the end lol) with your BH!Roy.

03!Roy because he's more of a sad puppy

03!Roy because he has a Royai ending for real 😝

Here you made me chose and I'm going to run and cry in a corner because you made me chose between my two ever faves and I love them both and I feel bad now 😭🤣

[vergilsama922]

Another class steps on the scene!!! Class 74-B!

(人◕ω◕) Ahhh. Heaven of Despair~ That's right everyone. This class has kinda been on the back burner for a bit. But in my defense, I didn't expect Alan Wake 2 to be so damn good. That and of course, I been working and watching anime. But outside that, we have another class and this time shoutouts to @pyropsychiccollector for helping make FIVE Bios! Kisumi, Yumi, Saori, Rika and Natalie!

Well regardless, Makoto is a VERY lucky guy. But also with a new batch that means more interactions and bonding~ Also like always expect a class orgy picture in the near future ;D

Anyways, Enjoy Class 74-B and give them a warm welcome!

(人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕) And now time for Bios below~

Aiko Fubuki - Ultimate Lucky Student

In the neon-veined heart of Tokyo, where hidden narratives pulse beneath a surface of ordered chaos, Aiko Fubuki's tale unfolded, marked by whispers of enigma and echoes of a destiny disrupted. The child of brilliance, her life was meant to be inscribed in the annals of academic legends, nurtured by the genius of her parents—pioneering researchers entrapped by the grandiose Bible Plan of Hope's Peak Academy's Steering Committee. Yet, their light was snuffed out in a cruel twist, leaving behind only darkness and the shattered remnants of a family.

Aiko's parents had dared to dance with the devils of knowledge, weaving narratives that could bend wills and shape destinies. Their intellect was their sin, and their creation—a system designed to inspire hope—became their demise. The Steering Committee, fearing the power they had unwittingly unleashed, chose to extinguish the threat. In the cold calculus of power, Aiko's parents were mere variables to be nullified. Their end was swift—a shadowy eradication disguised as an unsolved tragedy, leaving young Aiko orphaned and adrift in a merciless world.

Her luck, an aberration birthed from the chaos of her life's tragedy, was as violent as it was fortuitous. It manifested not in the mere turn of cards or the fall of dice but in the visceral reality of survival. It was a tempestuous ally, capricious and unruly, its whims dictating the rise and fall of those around her. Where blood was spilled, Aiko emerged unscathed; where guns were drawn, they misfired or were turned by a sudden shift of allegiance. Her presence was an omen—her luck, a force that commanded both fear and reverence.

The Yakuza, with their intricate knowledge of the streets and their intimate dance with danger, recognized the raw potential in Aiko's unpredictable fortune. They saw not a child to be comforted but a talisman to be wielded—a living charm against their enemies. To them, she was a vessel of chaos, a bearer of serendipitous upheaval that could tip the scales of power in their shadowy world. In their guardianship, Aiko was to be honed into an instrument of silent warfare, her chaotic luck their clandestine weapon.

Yet, the Yakuza's embrace was no act of altruism; it was an investment in the unpredictable currency of luck. Aiko's very existence among them was a gambit, a play in the high-stakes game of underground supremacy. As she grew under their aegis, her enigmatic aura deepened, her name whispered in reverence and dread. And amidst this maelstrom of fate and fury, Aiko's spirit remained undaunted. For within her burned a fire of vengeance and truth—a relentless drive to unravel the tangled skein of her parents' demise and to bring the unseen machinations of the unbeknownst to her Steering Committee to light.

Raised in the labyrinthine alleys of Tokyo's red-light district, Aiko Fubuki found herself nestled in the paradoxical embrace of the Yakuza—a life of opulent danger where every whispered secret held the weight of a life. The streets became her classroom, the clash of steel and the silent whispers her lullabies. She learned the language of the shadows, the art of reading intentions hidden behind veiled threats, and the grace of moving through a world that was perpetually balanced on the edge of a knife.

Her talent, a quirk of fate that she'd inherited like a cursed heirloom, revealed itself in the most harrowing of circumstances. It was during a clandestine exchange gone awry when Aiko's luck first truly unveiled its vicious splendor. Bullets flew, a deadly choreography aimed with lethal intent, yet each one veered off course, finding targets other than the intended. Men twice her size, thrice her strength, fell to the chaotic dance of her fortune, while Aiko, at the epicenter, emerged unscathed, her wide eyes the only evidence of the maelstrom that swirled around her.

The realization of her talent brought no joy, only a deeper sense of isolation. If her luck was a shield, it was also a barrier, repelling genuine connections, leaving a trail of distrust and fear. Yet it forged her personality as surely as a smith shapes steel. Aiko's demeanor hardened; she became distant, defensive, a lone wolf navigating a world where every hand extended in friendship could just as easily wield a dagger. She became a punk-ish enigma, the girl who walked alone, who responded to the world's cruelty with a short temper and a fierce independence.

Her relationship with the Yakuza evolved as they came to understand the nature of her luck. It was a wild, untamable force that demanded respect. They ceased to see her as a mere mascot and began to acknowledge her as a player in their games of power—a silent assassin who didn't need a blade to cut down her enemies. They taught her their ways, but Aiko was no one's puppet. She absorbed their lessons but refused to be confined by their expectations. She did things her way, regardless of what others thought, driven by an internal compass that pointed toward a justice only she could define. Aiko's luck was her armor, but it was also her challenge to master. She learned to walk the fine line between letting it loose like a tempest and reigning it in, a barely leashed beast. Her life became a study in control, in harnessing the chaos that bubbled beneath her calm exterior. The Yakuza watched with a mix of pride and apprehension as the girl with no talent grew into a force of nature whose very presence could turn the tides of their underworld wars.

The Yakuza, always cunning in their machinations, saw in Aiko's insatiable hunger for the truth a tool they could use to bind her to their cause. They fed her scraps of information, just enough to keep the flames of her vengeance burning bright, but never enough to let her see the full picture. Each morsel was calculated, a breadcrumb trail leading her deeper into the heart of their world, and further under their influence. They needed her, her unpredictable luck, her ferocity, her unwavering sense of purpose.

Aiko, for all her fiery spirit, understood the game they played. She knew that these titbits about her parents' demise and the Steering Committee's dark undertakings were doled out with the same precision as the slices of a well-honed blade. They meant to use her, yes, but Aiko was no fool. She took their offerings, turned them over in her mind, and stored them away. Each fact, each rumor, was a piece of the puzzle she was determined to solve.

But the Yakuza underestimated the ferocity of Aiko's resolve. She wasn't content with the role of a pawn, a silent specter dancing to their tune. No, Aiko was playing a longer, more dangerous game—one of her own making. With every piece of the puzzle they provided, she moved closer to her goal, a goal that extended far beyond the Yakuza's aspirations of power and control. Aiko's life with the Yakuza was a double-edged sword, much like her luck. They offered her a semblance of family, a place in a world where she had none, and a promise of vengeance for her lost parents. But in the shadowy corners of her heart, where the flames of her anger kept her warm at night, Aiko plotted. She plotted not just against the Steering Committee but against any and all who would try to use her as a weapon.

And that even applied to the Yakuza which they soon found out much later….

In the dense urban labyrinth of Tokyo, where every shadow could be a friend or foe, Aiko Fubuki and Sahiru Amakawa found their fates entangled. Sahiru, whose fortune seemed to bloom on the misfortune of others, was a jinx in human form, a walking catastrophe for those around her. The Yakuza, with their superstitious hearts and calculating minds, were naturally wary of such a figure. To them, Sahiru was an unpredictable variable, a wild card that could as easily spell their doom as usher in a windfall. And yet, it was Aiko who insisted on drawing Sahiru into her sphere, an audacious move that unsettled the seasoned criminals.

Aiko, with her innate ability to harness the chaos of her luck, saw Sahiru not as a threat but as an asset. In her eyes, Sahiru's disastrous aura was a tool to be wielded with precision. Aiko applied pressure, a mixture of veiled threats and promises of grandeur, manipulating Sahiru into an alliance of mayhem. Together, they tore through the city's underbelly like a typhoon, leaving a wake of chaos that was both a message and a warning to those who would dare to control Aiko.

Their collaboration was a symphony of disaster, a partnership where Aiko's anarchic luck met Sahiru's calamitous touch. Each venture was a gamble, each outcome a testament to their combined potential to upend the established order. The Yakuza watched, half in awe, half in horror, as their carefully curated world was shaken to the core by the very force they sought to chain to their will.

But amidst the upheaval, Aiko's true intentions simmered. The tumult was but a means to an end, the first step in her grand design to sever the puppet strings that the Yakuza had sought to bind her with. Her heart, fuelled by a silent inferno of revenge and an unquenchable thirst for the truth, was set on a collision course with destiny. And in the end, it would be the Yakuza who would learn the hard way that luck, especially Aiko's, could not be tamed.

The pursuit of those responsible for her parents' untimely deaths, and as Aiko would find out the Yakuza's role in the grand tapestry of betrayal and power plays orchestrated by the Steering Committee of Hope's Peak Academy. It was a truth that festered deep within Aiko, a smoldering ember that Sahiru's presence had inadvertently fanned into a roaring blaze. The Yakuza had been mentors, guardians, and even a semblance of family, but they had also kept her leashed with half-truths and scraps of information, using her uncanny luck as a shield against their enemies while holding the keys to her past just out of reach.

The boiling point arrived shrouded in the guise of a routine gathering, a meeting cloaked in the familiarity of strategy and camaraderie. But as the Yakuza lords discussed their latest exploits and conquests, Aiko's sharpened senses caught the slip of a tongue, the mention of a past operation—one that bore haunting similarities to the fateful event that had orphaned her.

The operation in question, as it turned out, was not a random act of violence but a calculated move in a larger scheme, a dark orchestration by the Steering Committee of Hope's Peak, with the Yakuza acting as the unwilling hand that carried out the grim task. Aiko's parents, researchers too close to unveiling secrets the Committee wished to keep buried, had become liabilities that needed to be silenced. The Yakuza, bound by twisted loyalties and blackmailed with threats to their own, had been forced into compliance.

Aiko's discovery that fateful evening was no mere coincidence. The Yakuza had found her that day on the streets, not by luck, but by following the orders of their puppeteers. They were to monitor the orphaned child of the researchers, to keep her close, to control her, lest she grow up to seek vengeance or, worse, stumble upon the truth herself. They had never anticipated the latent power within her, the chaotic luck that could one day turn against them.

As Aiko stood among the men who had been her guardians, protectors, and teachers, a cold realization washed over her. Her life had been orchestrated, her path manipulated. The supposed sanctuary they offered was a gilded cage, her safety an illusion. The truth was a corrosive acid, eating away at any semblance of trust and warmth that had existed between them.

The truth spilled forth in a torrent of confessions, half-hearted apologies, and attempts at justification. But the words fell on deaf ears; Aiko's heart was hardened, her vision clear. The Yakuza, who had once taught her the art of survival and strength, had been using her all along as a chess piece in a game played in the shadows of power and deceit.

The room, once filled with the smug comfort of schemers atop their imagined throne, now bristled with palpable fear. Aiko's revelation had struck a chord of terror in the hearts of the Yakuza. They had seen her luck's unpredictable outcomes, and now they were about to witness its destructive potential, directed squarely at them. The Yakuza leaders exchanged tense glances, their usual confidence faltering under the weight of Aiko's steely gaze. It was a silent consensus, born of the primal instinct to survive, that led them to act. If Aiko's chaotic fortune was a powder keg ready to detonate, they would attempt to snuff out the fuse before it could ignite.

With the swiftness of a serpent's strike, they attacked. The Yakuza, masters of ambush and deceit, lunged at Aiko with the intent to incapacitate, to overwhelm her before her luck could turn the tide. But Aiko, with the reflexes of one who had danced with danger all her life, responded not with panic but with the grace of chaos itself. Aiko’s movements were a blur, a dance of dodges and weaves so instinctive that each attempt to grasp her seemed only to slide off, as if luck itself was guiding her form. The Yakuza, with all their might and experience, found themselves faltering, struck by their own ricocheting intentions, as if fate had twisted their actions back upon themselves.

It was a spectacle that would be whispered about in the underworld for years to come; the night the girl with no talent, who wielded luck like a blade, carved her way out of the Yakuza’s clutches, leaving behind a trail of disarray and wounded pride. The storm of Aiko’s making had been unleashed, and it raged through their ranks with a fury that spoke of the chaos they had so foolishly courted.

In the end, Aiko stood alone amidst the disheveled room, the Yakuza subdued not by her hand, but by their own hubris and the invisible, capricious hand of luck that had always been on her side. With a cold, final look at the men who had lied to her, she stepped out into the night, free from the strings that had puppeteered her life. However, the night Aiko Fubuki declared her independence from the Yakuza was the night her tale TRULY began. Unbeknownst to her, her actions had long been observed by those with vested interests in talents, both known and unknown. Koichi Kizakura, the keen-eyed scout of Hope's Peak Academy, had been quietly tracking her progress, compiling reports that were as much about her deeds as they were about the unpredictable sway of her luck. His interest had been piqued not just by her talent, but by the iron-clad resolve and unyielding spirit she demonstrated. And also her parents connection to the deep rumored Bible plan.

Jin Kirigiri, the headmaster of the academy, had been receiving these reports with a growing sense of anticipation. Discussions about Aiko often filled the quiet corners of his office, where he pondered the potential she held and the role she could play within the esteemed halls of Hope's Peak and if she knew anything about the bible plan. His thoughts on the matter were aided by the intelligence provided by Damon Gant, the formidable yet righteous force within the Tokyo Police Department. Gant, who had a reputation for never leaving a stone unturned, had been feeding Jin and Koichi with insights into Aiko's life, drawn from his deep well of contacts and informants.

It was after all Gant's meticulous attention to detail that allowed Koichi to approach Aiko with a proposal she found herself intrigued by. Hope's Peak Academy was a place where her luck could be studied, honed, and perhaps even understood. It was an opportunity to step out of the shadows and into a world where her talent could be acknowledged and embraced. And to uncover what exactly the bible plan was and what happened to those who "disappeared" that fateful night who worked on it.

Aiko's initial meeting with Koichi Kizakura was far from the cordial exchanges of academia; it was a tense standoff in a dimly lit alley, a fitting backdrop for two individuals whose lives were anything but ordinary. She met his black and white invitation with a hardened gaze, her body language taut as a coiled spring, ready to strike. The emblem of Hope's Peak was a symbol she associated with the institution that had upended her life, and her hostility was palpable.

"You come here, to my turf, bearing the mark of those who killed my parents," Aiko spat out, her voice a low growl. "What makes you think I'd step foot in that place?"

Koichi, no stranger to tense situations, remained calm. He understood her distrust, her pain. "Hope's Peak is not the enemy you know," he said evenly. "It's a place where you can control your luck, not be controlled by it. And maybe, just maybe, find the closure you need."

Her eyes, which had been narrowed slits of suspicion, widened a fraction. Closure. That word resonated with her, echoing the deepest desires of her heart. Aiko was smart enough to know when to play her hand and when to fold. Koichi's offer, dangerous and rife with uncertainty though it might be, was a chance to step onto a larger stage, to turn her luck into a tool for uncovering the truth.

Gradually, the tension in her posture eased. "If I find out you're lying, or using me…" she warned, leaving the threat hanging in the air.

Koichi just tipped his hat, a silent promise that he was on her side.

With the invitation in hand, Aiko found herself facing a crossroads. The next step she took could lead her closer to the truth or further into a web of deceit. The decision weighed heavily on her, but the promise of understanding her parents' fate, of peeling back the layers of secrecy that surrounded the Bible Plan, was too potent to ignore.

Her meeting with Jin Kirigiri and Damon Gant was set in a nondescript room that spoke of confidential matters and discreet conversations. The headmaster of Hope's Peak and the esteemed officer from the Tokyo Police Department presented a united front, yet their demeanor was not one of authority, but of alliance.

Gant began, his voice firm yet infused with an undercurrent of understanding. "Aiko Fubuki, you've had to fend for yourself in ways most can't imagine," he acknowledged, his eyes meeting hers with a certain respect. "Your past actions, while they may not have always been within the confines of the law, they were about survival. I understand it more than most would. I'm here to offer you a clean slate."

Jin followed, his tone echoing the sincerity of his counterpart. "We're not here to coerce or manipulate you, Aiko. The academy wants to offer you a chance to understand your luck, to use it to help us uncover truths that have been buried in darkness for far too long."

Aiko, still wary, let their words sink in. A full pardon was more than she could have hoped for, a freedom she hadn't tasted since before the Yakuza. And Jin's offer to work with her, not as a subject, but as a partner, struck a chord deep within her.

"If I join you, it's as an equal," she stated, her tone brooking no argument. "I want access to all you have on the Bible Plan, on the Steering Committee. And I want your word that my luck won't be exploited."

Jin nodded, a gesture of affirmation. "You have my word. Our goal is shared, Aiko. The tragedies borne from the Steering Committee's machinations have cost too many lives. It's time we brought them to light."

The partnership was formed that day, an alliance of necessity and mutual respect. Aiko Fubuki, the girl whose life had been defined by the capricious whims of luck, stepped into a new role. With Hope's Peak Academy and the Tokyo Police Department at her back, she was poised to confront her past and shape her destiny, no longer a pawn in the games of power but a key player in the search for justice.

As Aiko left the meeting, the weight of her new path settled upon her shoulders. The journey ahead would be fraught with challenges, but for the first time in a long time, she faced them not as a weapon of fate, but as a wielder of her own future.

A future she would use to destroy the steering committee and their allies at any cost.

Kisumi Musashi - Ultimate Movie Director

Kisumi Musashi. The Ultimate Movie Director. This fierce, independent young woman has helped crank out one box office smash right after the other. Genre doesn’t matter. Whether the series has been around for a while and she’s just now dipping into it doesn’t matter. Whether it barely got approved to be produced doesn’t matter. Kisumi will take any title and make something amazing out of it. This is done through her tireless research, keen intuition and masterful direction, and relentless devotion and dedication to the entertainment industry. But who is Kisumi Musashi? Where does this superstar of a director come from? What are her dreams and ambitions?

When she was young, Kisumi’s parents died in an overseas plane crash. As a result, she went to live with her Uncle’s family – her Uncle being the CEO of a company called Natsuki Corporation. Her cousin, Tohru, came to be like a brother to her. And her Uncle Goro is more or less the father she’s always known, she wouldn’t trade him for the world… Even if it would have been nice to know her birth parents. Kisumi’s early childhood was peaceful and happy, attending a normal elementary school as opposed to one of the elite or being homeschooled; Uncle Goro believed in giving his kids perspective, to learn that despite their wealth they are not above the “common man.” The sooner they acquainted with and became friends with their classmates, the sooner they would learn about the struggles and pains that less well off families suffer through… And thus, they can strive to alleviate that suffering and create a better society through acts of kindness and generosity.

But it wasn’t long before Kisumi yearned for the silver screen. Or more accurately… The more she listened to Uncle Goro talk about what her parents did for a living, being a director and assistant director, and how they traveled the world to film movies… Kisumi just wanted to explore why her parents loved the entertainment industry. Wanted to understand them. If Uncle Goro went and saved a company from total collapse and turned it around so that the company helped so many people all around the world… and yet her parents settled for making movies… What made them passionate about something so selfish? Well. Kisumi thought they were selfish… After all, movie stars were often caught up in scandals, and there was so much dirt on other aspects of the industry… But Uncle Goro didn’t see it that way at all. He never criticized his brother when talking about “the good old days.” He encouraged Kisumi to have an open mind, that there was just as much value in creating and directing movies. People need entertainment to take their minds off of this cruel world.

So Uncle Goro supported Kisumi by sending her to study overseas. It was worlds apart from the normalcy she experienced up until then, and she had to learn English before going… But Kisumi did everything she needed to, listened to everything Uncle Goro had to say about her overseas studies. Not only did she want to learn what made her parents tick, why moviemaking was so important to them; Kisumi didn’t want to disappoint her Uncle or her cousin, who were both rooting for her. Kisumi would go on to complete her studies at a plucky young thirteen years old, having taken to the career of directing like a duck to water. During her time overseas, she was already helping to produce short films and documentaries with her classmates, and through her direction made the films very easy and pleasant on the eyes and ears. While she can never be sure that she knows for a fact how her parents felt while making movies, Kisumi did come to fall in love with the moviemaking process itself. Because… there’s an art to the whole thing.

The stories you want to tell, the lessons you want to impart… The actors that get picked, the location of filming, the budgets you have for props, costumes, and so many other things… Kisumi learned to make due with what they had, and still make stellar productions out of them that make more than enough money to compensate all the effort. Because just like the BBC’s sci-fi classic Doctor Who, you never truly know how big of a splash something can make until you release it. Something with humble beginnings can turn into something grandiose, so long as you pour all the love and attention you can into the production over time… Even if the studio itself is opposed or reluctant to what you’re making. Kisumi learned so much about various movie trends, about how to make productions marketable, and tips and tricks with how to handle the bigwigs who ultimately make the final call on whether or not you’re making the movies you propose.

In the end, Kisumi was told in her classes that she probably wouldn’t start out as a director. She’d probably be a production assistant or something way down the ladder like that… But Kisumi beat out all those expectations with her creative ingenuity and artistic direction. And above all her sheer force of will to become a director as soon as possible. Not because that’s what her parents became, not because of any family pride or arrogance on her part… But because she wanted to produce movies for her Uncle and cousin to view, back home. … Apparently Uncle Goro had fallen ill, and wasn’t able to take her calls halfway through her overseas studies; for the latter half, she only spoke with Tohru and confided in him about feeling a little homesick… But both of them felt that Kisumi needed to see this to the end, and Tohru just knew she would make Uncle Goro proud. At age thirteen, Kisumi returned home to Japan, and cranked up her moviemaking career to the max. Didn’t matter that she still had “regular school” to still complete, Kisumi had her dream job and wasn’t going to give it up for anything. Life at home with Tohru was… different. For some reason Uncle Goro was working longer hours at the office, and she never got to see him anymore. Tohru promised that his father was fine… that Kisumi didn’t need to worry.

They would both make the Old Man proud in their own ways; Tohru was set to succeed his father as the next CEO, and Kisumi became an esteemed movie director that was just getting started. Despite Tohru’s reassurances, Kisumi did worry about her Uncle… She wasn’t even allowed to see the Old Man’s bedroom anymore, or his study. She felt uneasy about it, like Tohru was hiding something… But she decided to put her faith in her brother-in-all-but-blood, and she poured all her efforts into what she studied her butt off for.

And two years later, when she entered high school… She had produced easily forty five different movies, short films, and documentaries. All of them were phenomenal, and the public loved them to bits. Kizakura noticed, of course, and extended the invite to Hope’s Peak. Kisumi was ecstatic to be recognized as the best director at her tender young age! … Tohru didn’t seem as… enthused, however. He was rather aloof when Kizakura came around to the house, and never removed that smiling mask that he wore out in public the past couple of years. Kizakura was rather curious about Tohru, something about the boy ringing vaguely familiar… But in the end, Tohru wouldn’t give Kizakura the time of day, and just urged Kisumi to pursue the path that she saw as fit for her dreams. Hope’s Peak was an institution like no other, yeah? Then Kisumi should just go for it if she was so inclined.

Baffled by Tohru’s cold shoulder, but otherwise happy to take up Kizakura’s invitation, Kisumi joined Hope’s Peak’s 74th Class. Her new classmates were rather eccentric, but still pretty impressive individuals overall. Sure, Kisumi was one of the more level-headed among them… But she could appreciate the passion they had in their respective careers. Upon graduating, Kisumi would continue successfully cranking out hit after hit, and she came to have pride as the “best” movie director… Because she worked hard for this dream. And she owed so much to Uncle Goro and Tohru…

Maemi Miyo - Ultimate Kendo Practitioner

In the tranquil dojo halls where the sound of clashing bamboo swords echoes like ancient war drums, Maemi Miyo stands almost invisible, her presence as silent as the falling snow. Yet, to underestimate her based on her delicate frame is to challenge the storm that brews beneath the calm surface. She is the whisper in the wind, the specter that haunts the dreams of seasoned kendo practitioners—she is the Ultimate Kendo Practitioner.

Maemi's journey began not with the roar of the crowd, but with the hushed reverence of those who bore witness to her talent. As a child, she was often overlooked, her small stature rendering her invisible among her more boisterous peers. But within the dojo, she was a force unrivaled, her shinai an extension of her will, her reflexes a blur to the naked eye. Opponents learned quickly that to dismiss her was to accept their swift defeat; her counterstrikes were as inevitable as they were imperceptible. But how exactly did she become the Ultimate Kendo Practitioner?

Under the eaves of an old, weathered dojo tucked away in a forgotten corner of Kyoto, Maemi Miyo found her first sanctuary. Her upbringing was unconventional; she was the only child of a lineage steeped in the art of the sword, but it was a lineage that had faded from public memory, its legacy confined to the dusty annals of history and the silent testament of ancient trophies lining the walls of their home.

Her father, a man of few words and disciplined action, was her first sensei. His teaching was strict, yet it flowed with the tenderness of a hidden stream. He saw in Maemi not just a daughter but the heir to a fading tradition, a living vessel for the resurgence of their family's honor. Her mother, equally skilled and even more enigmatic, wove tales of legendary samurai and kendo masters into the fabric of Maemi's childhood, her stories as much a part of Maemi's education as the katas she practiced from dawn until dusk.

Maemi's training began with the dawn, under the watchful gaze of her father, who was both sensei and mentor. In the still, chilly air of the dojo, where the scent of old tatami mats mingled with the crispness of the morning, she learned the ancient ways of the sword. Her father's methods were unorthodox, emphasizing not just the physical aspects of kendo but the mental and spiritual disciplines that underpinned them. He taught her to see the space between breaths, to find the silence amidst the noise, and to strike not when the moment presented itself, but to create the moment herself.

Her mother, meanwhile, taught her the history and soul of the blade. Every evening, as the dojo's lanterns cast long shadows on the wooden floor, Maemi would sit at her mother's feet, absorbing tales of legendary swordsmen and women whose spirits were said to live on in the blades they once wielded. Her mother's voice was soft but clear, weaving stories that were equal parts history and mythology, teaching Maemi that the essence of kendo was not in victory, but in the purity of every strike and defense, in the art of movement and stillness alike.

However It was during a local tournament that Maemi's talent truly unfolded before an audience. She was but a child, no more than ten, her stature diminutive, her presence almost negligible amidst the bustle of competitors. Her opponent was a local champion, a boy nearly twice her age and size, his confidence as conspicuous as Maemi's quietude. The match began, and the crowd's murmurs hushed in anticipation.

From the first strike, it was clear that Maemi was different. Her shinai seemed to whisper through the air, her steps a silent dance that anticipated her opponent's every move. The boy's strikes were powerful but predictable, and Maemi's counterattacks were whispers of wind that found their mark with a precision that seemed to bend the very air. The match was over in minutes, but the echo of her shinai's strikes rang much longer in the ears of those who witnessed her victory.

In the hushed circles of martial arts aficionados, Maemi's victory was not merely a win; it was the blooming of a legend. The small girl with the unassuming air and the piercing eyes had toppled a colossus with the ease of a seasoned master, her every move a poem written in the language of kendo. The word of her prowess traveled from the local dojo to regional competitions, and each retelling added to her mystique. She was the wraith of the kendo world, known to many by reputation, but truly understood by few.

As her renown in the kendo circles grew, so too did the audiences at her matches. They came not for the spectacle of violence, but to witness the elegance of her form, the serene composure with which she wielded her shinai, and the almost preternatural intuition that seemed to guide her movements. Yet, amidst this burgeoning fame within her discipline, Maemi's daily life remained untouched by her growing legend.

At school, Maemi was a wisp of a presence, her small frame and quiet demeanor rendering her all but invisible in the boisterous corridors and crowded classrooms. She drifted through the academic routine like a ghost, observed by few, her mind often elsewhere, lost in the strategies and philosophies of her next training session. Her peers, unaware of the fierce spirit that lay behind her passive exterior, seldom engaged her, and she, in turn, made no move to dispel the veil of obscurity that shrouded her school days.

To Maemi, the dichotomy between her life in the dojo and at school was stark but comfortable. In the world of kendo, she was a revered figure, a prodigy who spoke through her actions rather than her words. In school, she was just another face in the crowd, one more student in a sea of uniforms and youthful ambition. This anonymity afforded her a certain peace, a sanctuary from the pressures of her talent and the expectations that came with it.

Yet, even within the tranquility of her dual existence, there was an undercurrent of conflict that Maemi could not ignore. As she grew older, the disparity between her silent school life and her celebrated kendo persona began to chafe. There was a part of her that yearned to merge these two halves of her life, to be seen and known for who she truly was, not just in the dojo, but in every aspect of her existence.

The conflict came to a head during a regional kendo championship, where Maemi, as always, had silently cut her way through the competition. It was there, amidst the thunderous applause of the crowd, that she caught sight of her classmates in the audience. Their eyes wide with surprise and admiration, they finally saw the 'myth' in their midst, the 'ghost' of their classrooms wielding her shinai with a master's grace.

The revelation was a catalyst for Maemi. The following school days were marked by a subtle shift. Her classmates, now aware of her talent, approached her with a mixture of curiosity and awe. They asked questions, they whispered about her matches, they no longer passed her by without a second glance. For Maemi, this new attention was both uncomfortable and exhilarating. She found herself at a crossroads, unsure of how to reconcile her newfound visibility with her love for the solitude and anonymity she had always known.

As the days passed, Maemi's internal struggle did not go unnoticed by her mother, who had always been a quiet source of strength and wisdom. Her mother, a woman of poise and understanding, had watched her daughter tread the fine line between anonymity and acclaim with a knowing eye. She knew all too well the Hoshina clan's teachings—pride in one's skills, yes, but never a boastful display for mere attention. They were a family that found honor in the shadows, their achievements whispered like legends, never shouted for the world to hear.

One evening, as the afterglow of sunset bathed their traditional home in a warm light, her mother spoke. "Maemi, your heart is like the river—it seeks its own path, sometimes quiet and hidden, sometimes wide and open for all to see," she said, her voice as gentle as the breeze that rustled the leaves in their garden.

Maemi listened, her eyes reflecting the turmoil that had been her constant companion of late.

"In the dojo, you are the myth, the master whose actions speak her legacy. In school, you are the ghost, content to watch and observe. But remember, both are you, and both have their place," her mother continued, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Maemi's ear.

"But, mother, isn't it the Hoshina way to remain humble, to shun the spotlight?" Maemi asked, seeking clarity.

Her mother smiled, a soft curve of understanding. "True humility is knowing your worth without proclaiming it. It is not about hiding your light—it's about shining it where it will guide and inspire. You come from a lineage of warriors who knew when to step into the light and when to blend with the night. Your struggle, my child, is the same as theirs. The same struggle I once had and I made a choice that…..had consequences. But I would make theat same choice again in a heartbeat."

Those words struck a chord within Maemi. She realized then that her legacy was not a chain but a tapestry, a rich history of choices and chances. Her mother's words gave her a new perspective, one that allowed her to see her talent not as a burden to be hidden or a trophy to be flaunted, but as a gift to be used wisely.

As Maemi's confidence grew and her talents continued to flourish, the whispers of her prowess in the kendo world began to reach further than the dojo's walls. Her skill with the shinai had always been remarkable, but now there was a newfound resolve in her eyes, a determination that spoke of a deeper understanding and acceptance of her dual nature. It was during the national kendo championships, a tournament watched not just by enthusiasts but by talent scouts from various disciplines, that Maemi truly shone.

During the finals, Maemi faced an opponent known for his aggressive tactics and daunting presence. As the match commenced, the crowd expected a swift defeat for the small, unassuming girl before them. However, Maemi stood her ground with an unshakeable calm. Each attack from her opponent was not only deftly countered, but used as a stepping stone, guiding her to the next strike. Her movements were a blur, each step and swing carried out with a precision that seemed almost preternatural. The match ended with Maemi's victory, her shinai poised gracefully as her opponent's bamboo sword clattered to the floor, his ambitions alongside it.

The crowd erupted into applause, the sound filling the arena with an intensity that mirrored the shock and awe written across the faces of all who had witnessed the upset. But among the audience was Koichi Kizakura, whose knowing smile was tinged with excitement. He had been following Maemi's journey, intrigued by the tales of the 'ghost' who could best any challenger with her almost supernatural reflexes. He saw in her not just a master of kendo, but the embodiment of potential that Hope's Peak Academy sought—the potential to inspire, to lead, and to redefine what it meant to be a practitioner of the ancient art.

Koichi approached Maemi after the tournament, his trademark hat tipped in respect. "Maemi Miyo, your skill is the talk of the town, and your spirit, the inspiration of many," he began, his eyes gleaming with the prospect of having discovered a rare talent. "Hope's Peak Academy would be honored to have you walk its halls as the Ultimate Kendo Practitioner."

Maemi, taken aback by the sudden offer, hesitated. The academy was a place of prestige, but also one that had seemed distant, almost untouchable. Yet, here was an invitation, an acknowledgment of her skill and her dedication to her craft.

"What would I do there?" Maemi inquired, her voice barely above a whisper but clear in the silent moment that followed her question.

Koichi leaned forward slightly, understanding the weight of her question. "At Hope's Peak, you'd be more than just a student. You'd be a living testament to the art of kendo," he said earnestly. "You would train, yes, but also inspire. You could research the depths of martial arts, delve into its history and philosophy, and perhaps even instruct those willing to learn from the best."

Maemi's gaze held steady, considering the depth of what Koichi was offering. The prospect of furthering her understanding of kendo, of exploring its roots and imparting its essence to others, was more than just an educational opportunity—it was a calling.

"And it's not just about kendo," Koichi added, sensing her interest. "It's about finding where your talent takes you, about pushing the boundaries of what you know. You'll meet others with talents as unique and profound as yours, engage with minds that challenge and complement your own."

Maemi felt a spark ignite within her, a flame fanned by the promise of new challenges and the pursuit of knowledge. Hope's Peak Academy was offering her a path she had never contemplated, a chance to step out from the silent echoes of her dojo and into a world where her talent could truly flourish.

"I will accept your invitation," Maemi finally said, her voice still quiet but imbued with a new strength. "I wish to see where this journey leads, to understand the true potential of my talent."

Koichi's smile broadened, "Welcome to Hope's Peak, Maemi Miyo. Your journey is just beginning, and I have a feeling it will be one for the history books."

With her acceptance, Maemi Miyo prepared to enter a new stage of her life, one filled with the promise of growth and the allure of the unknown. As she walked away from the dojo that day, with the invitation from Hope's Peak Academy in hand, she felt the quiet strength of her resolve settle around her like armor. She was ready to face whatever came next.

Momoka Saitou - Ultimate Secretary

In the veiled corridors of power where decisions are made with a whisper and a nod, Momoka Saitou mastered the art of influence. As the Ultimate Secretary, she became the custodian of secrets, the silent engine behind the thrones of authority. But to understand her ascension to this pivotal role, one must trace the roots back to her upbringing—a tapestry of discipline, observation, and the subtle art of discretion.

Momoka's childhood was steeped in the tradition of service and support. Born to a family of dedicated civil servants, she was brought up with the ethos that the greatest impact is often wrought from the shadows. While other children played boisterously, Momoka observed. She listened. She learned. Her parents, working within the intricate bureaucracy of government, taught her the value of information—how it could be both shield and sword.

Her home was a revolving door of dignitaries and officials, each carrying the burden of their office. Momoka watched her mother, a paragon of a secretary, manage this world with an effortless grace. She saw how her mother's gentle suggestions could alter the course of discussions, how her careful arrangements could set the stage for successful negotiations, and how her discreet whispers could defuse the ticking time bombs of political intrigue.

Under her mother's tutelage, Momoka became adept at reading the room, understanding the unspoken needs of those she served. She became a young apprentice in the art of facilitation, honing skills that would define her future. Her parents instilled in her the belief that true power does not roar; it whispers. Yet, the very skills that made her indispensable in the halls of power also cast a widening gap between her and her peers. In the boisterous anarchy of school life, Momoka's reserved and observational nature made her a target. The bullying was subtle at first, a nudge here, a whisper there, but it grew bolder with each passing day.

However, Momoka was her mother's daughter, not just in skill but in spirit. She observed the bullies as she would any political adversary—studying their habits, their motivations, their allies. Armed with this knowledge, she began to apply her craft, using her wits and words to sow discord among them, turning their alliances inside out without a single raised voice or accusation. Her methods were a testament to her training: a rumor planted here, a schedule altered there, a misplaced item that only she could gracefully recover. She became a ghost in the system, orchestrating a silent campaign that disarmed her aggressors one by one. To the bullies, it seemed as if their own shadows turned against them, their confidence eroding with every step that backfired, every plan that unraveled.

In the end, the bullies found themselves isolated, their schemes undone by an invisible hand. They couldn't pinpoint how or when the tide had turned, but they felt the unmistakable presence of Momoka's influence in every misstep they took. The corridors they once prowled with impunity now whispered with the echoes of their faltered reign. They were afraid, not of retribution or confrontation, but of the silent sentinel that was Momoka—the girl who spoke softly and needed no stick. At least not yet.

However In the world of secretarial arts, Momoka Saitou's name resonated with a quiet power. Her skills were not merely about organization and efficiency; they were about intuition and the subtle art of influence. Her rise to prominence began with the cultural exchange project, but that was only the opening act of what would become a storied journey through the annals of administration. Momoka's projects were as varied as they were challenging. She coordinated international conferences, where she bridged the gaps between cultures with a grace that belied her years. She orchestrated charity galas, turning potential disasters into evenings of splendor and success. She even managed political campaigns for student council elections, turning underdogs into leaders with her strategic planning and insightful advice.

Her methods were a blend of modern efficiency and old-world diplomacy. She utilized technology to track progress and communicate, but it was her personal touch that ensured the success of her endeavors. Momoka had an uncanny ability to remember details about people, from their favorite drinks to their children's birthdays, and she used this knowledge to foster relationships and build networks of loyalty and respect. Her prominence as a secretary was marked by her unique approach to problem-solving. She never tackled issues head-on but rather worked from the shadows, moving pieces into place with such subtlety that solutions seemed to arise naturally. People began to speak of problems disappearing "the Momoka way"—a phrase that denoted an issue resolved so smoothly that it was as if it had never existed.

One of her most notable successes was the revitalization of an ailing student organization. The group had been floundering, its members disengaged, and its purpose unclear. Momoka stepped in as an advisor, and within months, the organization was not only thriving but had become a cornerstone of the school's extracurricular activities. She achieved this by carefully restructuring the organization, empowering members to take on meaningful roles, and aligning their activities with their passions and the school's goals. Her achievements as a secretary did not go unnoticed. As her reputation grew, so did the opportunities presented to her. She was sought after by the highest echelons of the school's administration, her advice and expertise valued by teachers and students alike. Momoka had become an indispensable asset to her school, her signature blend of quiet confidence and decisive action becoming the hallmark of her storied career.

However It was during the preparations for an international student symposium that Momoka's skills caught the eye of Hope's Peak Academy. The event was a massive undertaking, involving delegates from schools across the globe, and the smooth execution of the symposium was nothing short of a miracle. Momoka's behind-the-scenes work ensured that every detail was accounted for, every contingency planned for, and every participant felt heard and valued. Koichi Kizakura, in attendance to scout for potential talents, was astounded by the seamless flow of the event. He recognized the hallmarks of an exceptional secretary—the ability to predict problems before they arose, the capacity to communicate across barriers, and the foresight to weave a safety net so tight that nothing could fall through.

Kizakura with his knack for spotting the extraordinary in the sea of the mundane, approached her with an offer cloaked in the promise of potential and growth. "At Hope's Peak," he explained, "you'll find challenges worthy of your skills and a community that will value your unique capabilities. You're not just a mediator or a problem solver, Momoka—you're a visionary in your field."

Momoka's reaction was one of measured contemplation. She was no stranger to accolades or recognition, but this was an offer of a different caliber. It spoke not just to her abilities, but to her aspirations, her latent desire to expand her horizons beyond the familiar walls of her current life. Her parents, ever supportive, noticed the flicker of excitement in Momoka's usually impassive demeanor. "Momoka," her father said with a gentle firmness, "this could be the path to realizing your dreams, to broadening the scope of your talents." Her mother added, "We've always known that your potential was bound for greater stages. Hope's Peak could be that stage."

The notion of dreams was something Momoka rarely dwelled on, her focus always on the task at hand. Yet, deep down, she harbored visions of orchestrating events on a grander scale, of being the unseen hand that guided the course of crucial conversations and decisions. Perhaps even of the government of Japan itself. Hope's Peak, with its myriad of talents and its pulsating heart of opportunity, was a place where dreams didn't just whisper—they sang.

With the full support of her parents and the promise of a new horizon ahead, Momoka accepted the invitation from Hope's Peak Academy. Her acceptance was not a loud declaration of ambition, but a quiet acknowledgment of the new journey she was about to embark on. She understood that the academy was not just a stepping stone, but a place that could transform the whispers of her dreams into the actions of change.

As she walked through the imposing gates of Hope's Peak, a soft determination settled within her. Here, within these walls, she would not only apply her skills but refine them. She would navigate the complex web of interpersonal relations, cement her role as a master mediator and secretary, and perhaps, in the process, discover new facets of her own identity.

Natalie Murasaki - Ultimate Sheriff

Natalie Murasaki. The Ultimate Sheriff. This feisty, spunky young woman sports the highest arrest rate for any female police officer in western Japan. … And the interesting tidbit? Aside from a few particularly tricky cases involving multiple criminals or yakuza, Natalie is known for bringing in the perpetrators on her own merits. Her own efforts. This has led this remarkable young woman to be a particularly skilled combatant, insofar as neutralizing crooks without killing them. For Natalie Murasaki, ensuring that everyone follows the law is of the highest importance; she HATES injustice and tragedies… Still, this is what everyone knows about Natalie Murasaki these days. Who is she, really? Where does she come from? What are her dreams and ambitions?

Natalie was born and raised in Kobe, Japan. The mountain ranges framing the harbor of Osaka Bay; Ikuta Shrine; the outdoor hotsprings of Arima Onsen; and even the antiquated cable cars that take people up to Mt. Rokko for a panoramic view of the port… All these things and many more became areas that Natalie knew like the back of her hand. Marble steak is her favorite grub, and she fell in love with her hometown and all the people in it.

Her parents were a part of Kobe’s police department… Albeit they were on the lower rungs of the ladder, usually handling smalltime affairs and paperwork. Because they worked so often, Natalie was more or less raised by her older brother, Yu. He had about ten years on her in age, and still he was Natalie’s best friend. From early on, Natalie recognized he was as tough as nails, but the biggest part about him was his heart. After he skipped a couple grades in high school, he got on a fast track for becoming a teacher… And Natalie was just in awe of how passionate and fulfilled he seemed, living his dream. Yu believed that his students loved him just as much as he loved them, that they all had bright futures…

Unfortunately for Yu, teaching wasn’t meant to last. A few years into his career, a particularly nasty instance of bullying occurred under his watch. Yu was idealistic, he thought that it was just kids being kids, that it was just horseplay; after all, he had a kid sister that meant the world to him. Kids could be misguided, but they knew not to go too far. … But it wasn’t horseplay. Not this time. Several students in his homeroom bullied a boy enough that he eventually leaped off the school’s roof. A girl in his homeroom warned Yu what was going on, chastised him for being so blind… And he didn’t realize until that boy jumped off the roof and ended up in a coma. Yu was then dismissed from teaching, on account of being made a scapegoat so that the school would survive past this incident. Yu didn’t try to fight it; he was wracked with guilt and bitterness for failing his students, and he was left not knowing what to do in the aftermath. Where to go from there… Though he seemed to find SOMETHING, because soon enough he was coming home a lot less to take care of Natalie… And he wouldn't open up about his new career, especially not about why he seemed so exhausted coming home at nights…

Natalie was devastated about what happened to her brother. Not only because of all the unjust court proceedings that framed him as a callous, heartless monster… But the act of bullying itself. That it had gotten that bad. Her brother’s students betrayed him, and she began fostering a deep resentment for bullies in general… What was the point of picking on someone weaker than you? No. She had that backwards. Because the bullies had to act as a unified unit to bully that one boy, just to feel good about themselves or whatever it might be… THEY were lesser than that one boy. Was it an inferiority complex?

Natalie honestly stopped caring about the why’s. Yu got screwed over because of something so stupid, so cruel, and she wanted to keep something like this from ever happening again. So shortly after her eleventh birthday… Natalie began doing her own research into nefarious activity around Kobe with all of her newfound free time. The thing about having an awesome older brother like Yu is that Natalie was learning to spar with him from an early age; it was more of a free style, but the base of it is Southern Kung Fu. Yu wouldn’t teach her everything that he knew, but he did want Natalie to be able to stand on her own and defend herself.

…And well. Natalie decided defending herself just wasn’t good enough. She needed to defend everyone that she could. So trailing the traitorous, bullying students, Natalie began learning about yakuza connections, the filthy “underground” of Kobe. Natalie wasn’t strong enough to make the courts decide to give her brother his teaching position back, but she could force these traitors and yakuza to face justice. So after beating them up and WINNING, miraculously enough, Natalie turned the whole bunch of crooks over to the Kobe police department…

Naturally, her parents were appalled, aghast that their daughter had done something so dangerous… They were on the verge of giving both her and Yu a serious tongue lashing – Yu was just as floored that Natalie had taken the initiative like that, having to come home early from his new job to get lectured about leaving Natalie out of his sight. But soon after those perpetrators were hauled into the station, the Chief of Police, a distant acquaintance of Damon Gant, stopped her parents from punishing Natalie too harshly for what she did… Yes, it was reckless. And they would rather leave this dangerous business to the professionals… But this Chief had known Damon from long ago. Knew how he started out. He could see that same fire and resolve in Natalie, and didn’t feel it was worth snuffing out that potential.

From that day on, Natalie was drafted into the police training program, under the Chief’s careful guidance. And she defied all expectations, not only managing to breeze through the training but also wrangle more crooks on the streets while she was at it, and still attend school to boot. Natalie was a go-getter, and over the next four years she both rose through the ranks and arrested quite a few perpetrators with her own two hands. To the point of earning the highest arrest rate… at her tender young age, no less!

Around the time Natalie was breezing through the academy, Yu expressed concern that his little sister was going way too fast. Their parents might not be able to object too much because she has the Chief's backing, but Yu knows the sorts of vile people Natalie's pursuing at the risk of her young life. Yu also knew that just talking to her would result in butting heads with her, and showing off more of his techniques through subsequent spars that would ensue. He knew his sister like the back of his hand, stubborn as one of those bulls she loved to watch in those cheesy Western flicks…

So Yu formulated a plan to make Natalie back down. Through connections at his new workplace, Yu hired a small group of masked men to ambush him and Natalie while they went out to see a movie; Yu knew how tough these men were because he had trained this security team personally. They all worked for the same corporation, after all. One ambush later, with Yu purposely throwing the "fight" to get taken "hostage" - leading to an ultimatum for Natalie to back down and quit the police lifestyle. It was Yu's hope that by overwhelming Natalie in quantity as well as quality, she would just go back to a normal, carefree life…

…Unfortunately, Yu underestimated Natalie's tenacity. He should have known better… Because he had the same unwavering justice, lurking deep inside. Through clever use of her environment, Natalie distracted the "hostage-taker" before KOing him brutally, followed by taking out the whole security team. By the end, Natalie was exhausted, barely standing straight, but she managed to beat the seemingly insurmountable odds.

Yu had to face facts. Whether he liked it or not, his sister had grown up. She had used his pain, his anguish, his guilt, his self-loathing… And Natalie used that to give her purpose. Even though she was just a kid, even though he'd grown more distant because of his new career as part security guard, part handyman for this rival corporation that was going toe-to-toe with the Togami conglomerate, and even the Kamukura's couldn't take them lightly… Yu had been spending all this time using this corporation's resources and personnel to dish out justice in his own way… Even if it entered some gray territories of the law… All to address the issue of bullies.

And in having such tunnel vision… Yu missed out on the effect his pain was having on Natalie. How it was fueling her to be such a strong, independent girl. … She didn't need to go so far for him. Yu was used to cleaning up his own messes as the dependable older brother… Still, Natalie had come this far. And she was going through more proper channels to deal with bullies, as opposed to his… methods. Yu was so close to going through with some really illegal crap, the planning was nearly done, but now that he's seen his baby sister take out a whole security team that HE trained… Yu can't keep pretending his imouto is completely removed from this crappy side of life. Seeing the worst parts of humanity… She's way too young to be dealing with this, but Yu can't deny she's capable.

So Yu took her home, after tuckering herself out. He carried her piggyback style like he had years ago, and they had a heart-to-heart. Natalie whined about needing to haul in the masked men, but Yu consoled her and promised he'd handle it. There was no need too shatter her rosy-glasses view of him, so he kept the fact that they were just his coworkers, that the whole thing was staged to make her back down… he kept that to himself. Natalie could just take pride in the fact that she had protected him, and had earned a good rest. Yu isn't sure what he'll do moving forward… Maybe draw up new plans. Because… if he carried on like he wanted to, Yu knew that Natalie might have to bring him in one day. … And he didn't want to shred her heart to pieces like that.

He couldn't give up on his ambitions either, however. Whatever the future held… He had powerful allies and unwavering justice in his veins. Yu wouldn't cause his baby sister grief over his life decisions, but he would still do things his own way. So after dropping her off at home, Yu left her a note. Through it, he told her that he wouldn't be coming home for a while… His new job was pretty important, and he could tell that Natalie was making great progress without him as a crutch. He told her not to worry about him, that she had already avenged him by arresting those bullies from his old homeroom… Natalie should live her own life. And if that led to a pursuit of justice… Well, Yu would respect her choice. Just be happy, and only take risks if she's SURE that she can pull through. Yu is proud of her… That's never in question.

Natalie woke up to find that note, and would go on to continue her training, gaining notoriety with her high arrest rate. And citizens all over Kobe and neighboring towns would come to love and respect her as the youngest police officer in the nation. Naturally, the Chief passed along to Damon the new rookie that had amazing potential, and Damon kept a pretty sharp eye on her progress. Eventually, Natalie was recognized as one of the Chief of Kobe PD’s best operatives, nearly second-in-command to him. Despite being a kid, she had authority as an officer of the law, and never abused it despite how recklessly she chases after criminals… Natalie knows the law by heart, but when it comes to the pursuit of justice, she will run off on her own to ensure justice is carried out. She has the training from both the police and Yu under her belt, and she quickly learned how to look out for criminal activity… Natalie might be taking big gambles, but she was a ”Sheriff” in her own right.

Hence, when she reached high school, she got approached by Damon and Kizakura to invite her to Hope’s Peak, where she could accelerate her potential as an officer of the law even more. Natalie was ecstatic, and Yu was happy enough for his little sister, hearing about her acceptance to that prestigious academy… even if he did constantly stress over her biting off more than she can chew.

But she’s Natalie Murasaki~… And she’ll be fine. As worried as he might feel at times, Yu believes in her. Always.

Personality wise though, Natalie is a girl that can't sit still. When she personally witnesses bullying or other crimes, she's the first to leap into action. She won't always tackle the problems head-on, but that's her preferred approach as opposed to waiting for "permission". Natalie is the type to hate protocol if it prolongs suffering and injustice, hence her rebellious streak when jumping into the fray. … Although Natalie does despise paperwork and leaves that to her coworkers whenever possible.

When it comes to stuff besides police work… Natalie enjoys westerns, shootout flicks, Kobe's marble steak specialty, and learning and using cowgirl lingo in her everyday language. She also regularly dresses up as a cowgirl sheriff - hat, ascot, suspenders… She even has a sheriff's badge, which she received for her efforts in arresting criminals.

Of course… Natalie's deep sense of justice does distance herself from her schoolmates because of how passionate she is and how clearly she beats up bullies at their elementary/middle school growing up. Natalie herself wants to make friends with everyone, but they aren't eager to reciprocate with how easily she can beat them up at the drop of a hat, for just about any reason she wants. Of course, Natalie only ever attacks bullies… But there's nothing to say that'll never change. Aside from her ability to never lose a scrap, her Western-centric habits and fashion also put people off.

This isn't to say Natalie doesn't have any friends… She's just not very popular. … Even though she deals with bullies and speaks out against them, when the rest of them won't because of basic society etiquette. The friends she does have, they value her standing up for the meek and helpless. … Though they wish she'd be more careful. They also know of her older brother, and how kind he is to everyone; how Natalie picks up most of her Western aesthetic/tastes from Yu, and learned how to fight from him.

Still… It's not until Hope's Peak where Natalie finds people just as eccentric as her. And even fellow officer types, such as Ikue. … Not that Natalie and Ikue's ideologies line up very cleanly. (人◕ω◕);;;

Rika Hinami - Ultimate Engineer

Rika Hinami. The Ultimate Engineer. This down-to-earth, level-headed woman is famous for developing a heater technology that is both efficient and eco-friendly. But that single invention is hardly the extent of her talents; it’s simply what she’s known far and wide for. Rika-san is annoyed that her brilliance isn’t better recognized by society… But perhaps her cavalier attitude towards others, her “laziness” as some people may define it, plays into her subdued notoriety. But who is Rika Hinami? Where does she come from? What are her dreams and ambitions?

Rika was born to a pair of corporate executives in the Fuji Bank chain, which is the successor to the Yasuda zaibatsu. They deal largely in recruitment and management, which helped shape Rika’s personality. Because… Rika would ditch school whenever she could. And where would she go? She would tail her parents to their workplace and secretly watch them throughout the day, conducting interviews, performance reviews, and so much more. To any other child, this would have been the most boring, most anticlimactic thing to do with free time… But to Rika? A pencil-pushing management desk job was heaven. You got to sit around for most of your shift, some menial work here and there, and boss others around. What’s not to love about an easygoing life like that?! As the daughter to not one, but TWO executives of Fuji Bank, it’s not as if any of the employees would ever snitch if they caught her ghosting her parents’ workplace. She was essentially “royalty”. Still, despite her admiration of such a job… Rika-chan knew that to get there, she would have to go through A LOT of schooling and putting in effort that she wasn’t necessarily willing to give… Because after all, like most kids, who LIKED going to school to learn? It’s not an issue of understanding the material.

Not for Rika-chan. School came TOO easily for her; she completed the semester’s assignments way ahead of time, and then only went to class for tests. … Because apparently the secret deals she was making with teachers to let her escape classes couldn’t cover those. Annoying, but Rika-chan vaguely understood (even at her young age) there was limits to how much she could cheat the system. So after a year or two of watching her parents and coming to the crushing understanding that she would have to APPLY herself to get to where they were… Rika-chan gave up her dreams on a corporate management position. Because screw effort~…

That left Rika-chan with an awful lot of free time, though. Sure, while brainstorming ideas for killing time, Rika-chan wound up effortlessly completing classwork a couple years ahead of her current studies. The work wasn’t that hard; she was beginning to understand the general flow of education in most subjects. Anything she didn’t immediately get, she just accessed the internet to fill those gaps. Before long, she had an Associate’s Degree’s worth of education under her belt at the age of ten. Not bad, but such a degree would only get her basic jobs where she’d have to work… So Rika-chan dabbled in a few different things until she found that, subconsciously, she developed a fascination with engineering. Tinkering with machines… Applying her imagination and knowledge to designs, improving on already existing designs…

One day, a schoolmate who was curious about why she was rarely in school approached her at home, and Rika-chan was discovered installing a sublevel to her parent’s garage. … Because Rika just knew that they wouldn’t be too happy if she used their garage as a workshop. So she rigged up some machines to dig below the earth below the garage and get it all re-cemented before her parents got home that evening. Rika barely had to do a thing. Her schoolmate was in awe of what she was doing, and asked how this was all achieved; the poor girl was overwhelmed as Rika launched into a droll explanation of how her digging machines operated, where she acquired the parts (mostly from junkyards, because she refused to use her parents’ money, and she refused to work for her own money unless absolutely necessary), how many weeks it took to put this all together… By the end, the schoolmate’s head was spinning, and Rika-chan was just standing there nonchalantly like it was no big deal. … Because it wasn’t. Rika had this much free time, and furthered her studies to such an extent. Still, the fact Rika was this amazing with inventing, it gave the schoolmate hope that maybe Rika could help fix her bike, which was pretty banged up . Rika wasn’t exactly thrilled to be asked to do something… But with how crestfallen her schoolmate seemed at Rika’s initial refusal of the request… Rika grudgingly agreed that her machines could continue their work without much fuss, and she had the time to look at the bike… even if she knew crap all about them. Right away, the young prodigy could tell what the problems were with the bike, despite that lack of knowledge. After some quick research into bike maintenance and repair, Rika determined it would be more cost effective to just purchase a new bike… Unfortunately, the schoolmate’s family had a low income, and they just weren’t in a position for that, hence the schoolmate was hoping it could be fixed instead. Rika still wasn’t thrilled about the hoops she’d have to jump through to get this bike repaired… But if it’d stop the girl from bawling like a baby, Rika would do it. She’d whine, but she’d do it.

A couple days later, Rika had the schoolmate come down to her new workshop, which her parents still didn’t know about, and had the schoolmate try out her newly modified bike. Not only could it go much faster, but it was easier to brake and steer the thing. The schoolmate was in awe, and thanked Rika over and over, but Rika just waved her off. It wasn’t that hard, and she even liked improving on the bike’s design after overcoming the initial repairs.

After that single request, Rika’s name started getting passed around at school. To her ire, more schoolmates came over to ask her to take a look at and repair certain things in or around their homes… Toasters, TV’s, showers, video game consoles, A/C units, heating units… Rika couldn’t fix EVERYTHING, some stuff fell under the purview of plumbers and electricians. Still, she got exposed to a variety of everyday appliances, and now she was getting PAID for these jobs… Most of the time, anyway. Whenever they weren’t lower income like that first “client”. It annoyed Rika to be approached so often, but she was slowly and surely becoming known as a “handyman” around her school and neighborhood. As stupid as all the new work was to her, it still allowed her to flex her engineering muscles and expand her knowledge base. By age thirteen, she finally developed her own patented heating system. … Because winters were cold around where she lived, and she wanted her damn house to not be so frigid. Her parents rarely kicked oo the heating because they were concerned about affecting the environment… Well, Rika worked around those concerns, and gave all three of them a toasty home to be in, and it wouldn’t even add that much to their bills. It didn’t take long for Rika’s heater to be discovered by her schoolmates, however; enough of them came around and asked why it felt so NICE inside Rika’s home… And to her chagrin, word got around to a few heating companies in Japan, and they began clamoring for her designs. … She didn’t like selling out to the greedy sonuvabitches… But then, they did offer her a fair chunk of money. And she saw no reason why she couldn’t sell to multiple companies to get that much more money for herself. Sure, that meant having to tweak her designs to make new and yet still eco-friendly designs… But Rika did it. Several times over.

Rika skated by in middle school, taking on various jobs as the “handyman” of Yokohama. School was a non-issue, and she was learning plenty through her budding engineer side business. Eventually, Koichi Kizakura came calling when he caught wind of her brilliance. … Though he was quite frank with her: Despite some people talking about her, Rika really wasn’t as famous as she believed she was. Rika was frankly a rare find for Kizakura; a kid that kept her head low and just took whatever jobs came her way. In fact, because of her lack of presence at school, Kizakura almost missed her altogether as he pored through various school rosters. Rika didn’t care very much if she was renowned or not; her ultimate dream was still to take it easy and work as little as possible… She pretty much turned down the Hope’s Peak gig, because she just didn’t have the DRIVE to be the best… Hope’s Peak would just heap more and more expectations on her shoulders, and Rika wanted to stay FAR away from that…

But Kizakura isn’t a quitter. He knows untapped talent when he sees it, and despite resonating with her in terms of taking it easy… The man appealed to Rika’s love for her craft. If she attended Hope’s Peak, she wouldn’t have to sift through and pilfer junkyards for supplies. She’d have access to top-of-the-line materials and equipment, at no cost to her. Hope’s Peak basically cut blank checks to all of its students, all in the pursuit of the study of talent. … Rika didn’t like Kizakura going for the jugular like that, but if she could cut out the middleman that was the smelly junkyards… Well, she grudgingly accepted the invitation. Not before forcing Kizakura through an unnecessary “interview” to confirm some things about attending Hope’s Peak… Still, by the end, Rika just went with the flow, and got set up with a new workshop on campus.

To Rika’s irritation, she got dragged into attending classes and doing activities with schoolmates.. But she made sure to hit them up with “interviews” and “performance reviews” whenever they really got on her nerves. Never let it be said that Rika Hinami can’t hold a grudge~… She’s very petty. And gets very sore if you force her to work too much~… She would rather be left alone to her workshop in peace, and get paid for jobs, than attend class. Because high school education isn’t something she needs; she’s already got a Master’s Degree in Engineering worth of education by the time she got invited to Hope’s Peak. … Too bad her schoolmates don’t see it that way…

Saori Aisaka - Ultimate Cheerleader

Saori Aisaka. The Ultimate Cheerleader. Her family's motto is, "Anything is possible for an Aisaka!" It's a saying that has empowered Saori through many hardships in her cheerleading career… Because as much as people like to assume it's all sunshine and rainbows, cheerleading is pretty similar to pop idols in how girls can be cruel and cutthroat. Do anything to get ahead. … But this has never been Saori's style. In her eyes, if you stoop so low to sabotage to compete, you've already lost the battle. Because you can't handle your rivals at their best, and that just means you don't believe in the team you're cheering for. This idealistic mindset of hers has inspired many girls, both on her cheerleading squads and even girls all over the nation.

This positivity has even led Saori's teams to conquer national championships several times… Her middle school were undefeated champions in cheerleading with Saori's leadership and guidance, and she's gone on to raise up several cheerleading squads from Hope's Peak, and once she graduated she went on to lead college and university cheer squads… She goes from one university to the next each semester to stir up friendly competitive spirit and make each team feel like they can do anything. Still, as capable as this phenomenal young woman is, who is Saori Aisaka? Where does she come from? What are her dreams and ambitions?

Saori was born to a pair of researchers that work for the curious Natsuki Corporation. A few years before Saori was born, the company was saved from declaring bankruptcy, and has since risen up to become an entity that can go toe-to-toe with the Togami's, the Kamukura's, and other such big superpowers. But Natsuki won't sell out to those rival corporations, will not kneel to them or bend to their whims; Natsuki Corp has this mysterious ironclad will behind it that even the EOS Institute has been forced to recognize in recent years. Natsuki appears to have an interest in making a number of products that make everyday life more convenient and fulfilling. From cars, to clothes dryers, to remote--controlled robots that can entertain the kids, to miracle drugs… To so much more. Natsuki Corp covers a lot of bases. Saori's parents are a part of separate research teams, but they seem to have the time every morning and evening to spend time as a family with Saori. Whether it's just one or both of them.

Saori loves her family a lot, as such… As well as Natsuki Corp. Because it's a company unlike almost any other - it's a company that values the employees and their families. After a thorough interview and screening process, they determine if the families applying to work for them are healthy or if there's abuse or any other underlying issues lurking beneath the surface. If there IS abuse, Natsuki spares money and resources to provide counseling to improve the quality of those families' lives. That's why Saori's family's situation isn't so special; Natsuki values ALL of its employees. Her parents making time to be with her is just a sign that the company's interests and values are working. Treat the employees well, as the people they are, and you'll inspire loyalty. Saori and her parents have had no reason to doubt Natsuki Corp; it's like a dream company to work for.

Because of how well her life is at home, Saori has been a rather positive, upbeat, likeable individual ever since she was young. She's not EVERYONE'S friend, but she can be ANYONE'S friend if they're willing. Of course… With how "perfect" she seems on the surface, Saori has garnered a number of people that dislike her outright and suspect she has a darker side, spreading vicious rumors about her and her family… Saori was never the type to attack people in return or even just confront them about the pervasive rumors… No, in Saori's mind all she can do is prove the rumors wrong. To be the best person she can be, even on her bad or off days… And so, the best way she found to do that is to take up cheerleading. Because cheering isn't for her sake; it's to show school spirit and support her friends. And even support the people spreading rumors about her.

Saori first joined the cheer squad at eight years old. Elementary school didn't give her much exposure to how "savage" cheerleading could get, how cruel girls could be… But it was a good time to be introduced to the after school hobby, to begin to learn the routines and learn the value of teamwork and building one another up. Because of this bright and shiny beginning, Saori carried this idealism over into middle school where things started to get more fierce. Their upperclassmen began fostering a competitive edge into Saori's friends, but the aggressiveness never stuck with Saori. So when one of her best friends began disparaging a rival school, Saori had a heart-to-heart with her about it, right out in the open in front of everyone. She managed to convince her friend that it wasn't worth putting down the other school; they were better off devoting their energy to cheering for their team and believing they can win. And even if they lose, it's not the end of the world. They can just try harder next time.

Of course… Saori making her opinions public like that, a few older girls took offense to how naive and "stupid" she was being. They "challenged" Saori for the position of cheer squad captain, knowing full well that first-years weren't allowed to try for that position. Their goal was to get Saori in trouble with the teacher overseeing the team… But Saori accepted the challenge, not knowing the risks involved… And in the end, the teacher took Saori's side when she explained everything later, how it was the other girls' idea but Saori was willing to leave the team or accept any punishment if that smoothed over feathers. Saori had never given the teacher or anyone a reason to be harsh with her; she was always just striving to be the best she could be… And so, for the first time in their school's history a first-year was made the cheer squad captain.

And it turned out amazing. Saori led her team to national championships for the first time that year. Her cheerful nature, her stalwart beliefs in her friends and school, the synergy she developed with the cheer squad, and the charisma she began developing… It all contributed to her school becoming the national champions for the first time in its history, through sheer effort and positivity.

Saori would go on to make her middle school cheer squad a well-oiled machine in the coming years. They would have their ups and downs, but everyone had faith that so long as Saori was here to lead them, they'd pull through. Her motto of "Anything is possible for an Aisaka!" became a motto for the students in general; not as a condescending statement, but more of a can-do attitude. A simple sentiment, but Saori's friends loved how uplifting it is.

As high school rolled around… Kizakura came calling, and while Saori didn't like parting with her friends, the scout won her over with the idea that as the Ultimate Cheerleader, she could go around to various high schools and help them become better, more wholesome teams. Saori loves that idea a lot, and so she agreed to come to HPA. And once she graduated, she went on to support both high schools and universities, changing cutthroat attitudes to more honorable ones. Honoring the competition, inspiring everyone to be the best they can be.

Yumi Yano - Ultimate Announcer

Yumi Yano. The Ultimate Announcer. This plucky young lass is known nationwide for commentating at sports arenas, idol shows, gameshows, presenting the news, weather, music… She's presented sensational promotional events, and she's a regular on the radio. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and she's favored by citizens all over Japan because she can cheer people up just by the mere sound of her voice. But who is Yumi Yano? Where does she come from? What are her dreams and ambitions?

Yumi was born to a TV news anchor and his wife, who worked in a cubicle all day. Essentially… They were middle class, and it's not as if they were living paycheck to paycheck… However, her parents were so used to the daily grind that they were left pretty joyless. Having Yumi was one of the happiest moments of their lives, but it's not as if they could put off work forever and raise her and be a family. Bills needed to be paid, and they wanted to give Yumi a good future. Get her into a good university, go for a good paying career…

Yumi saw how hard her parents worked, and felt terrible for being a burden. Of course they never called her that; they even assured her many times that she wasn't a burden… But that's just how Yumi felt. They were so absorbed in the daily grind they rarely had the time to sit down and be a family. Go for fun outings… There was just never time for any of that.

But it wasn't just her life at home. Yumi also suffered at school, somewhat. She was never bullied, never hated, but her friends had their own lives. They tried being there whenever possible, but often club activities, family business, hobbies and interests, and other friends would take higher priority over Yumi. She gave it her all to be supportive, but in the end it left her feeling lonely and at the worst of times abandoned.

One day, though… Yumi was allowed to visit her dad at work. She didn't have anything going on at school, so she agreed to "ditch" for the day and get to tour a television studio. It turned out really well for her - while her dad handled a daytime program, one of the other programs ongoing at the time needed an emergency substitute announcer, and no one else seemed to be available immediately. They were going to delay the broadcast, but Yumi, so sweet and innocent, convinced the camera crew to let her try and help. Her dad was a news anchor, how tough could this be?

They were just going to humor her, continue to delay the broadcast and let the kid think she was on TV…. But to their amazement, she understood the script just fine, and even injected her own unique energy and ad-libs - stuff that only a kid could imagine. They ended up broadcasting Yumi, and it was her first successful show. Her dad didn't even find out until weeks later, when Yumi got called in for more gigs. At just mine years old, Yumi proved to be a natural at television, and viewers just ate her up.

For several months, Yumi had to learn to analyze and commentate sports matches, gameshows, and so much more. But like she was born for this, Yumi took to announcing like a duck to water. She was helping her dad's TV studio, and all the staff were being so nice to her, even paying her…! She felt accepted, and her appearances on TV even earned attention from her schoolmates who suddenly wanted to prioritize her and get to know her. Yumi wasn't an idiot; she knew her newfound popularity was only because she was becoming a rising TV and radio sensation, but even so… Yumi didn't begrudge them. If they wanted to be friends, Yumi was happy to oblige. And all that money she got for being a part-time announcer, she helped pay her parents' bills and this in turn awoke her parents to what they were unwittingly allowing to happen. It wasn't their intention for Yumi to grow up so fast… So they tried to do a 180 and be a family for Yumi's sake. … Too little too late, however. Yumi was happy to have her family and friends… But she connects this to her success as an announcer. If she were to go back to how things were, she would return to loneliness and misery. She doesn't resent anyone for pushing her to this lifestyle; but she wants to keep what she has. Yumi can't let the pain show, so she resolves to keep smiling and laughing. Keep everyone's spirits up, including her own. She wants to keep helping the TV studio, and she's considering the other studios and stations offering her gigs because of her talent.

So despite her parents' worries… Yumi keeps growing as an announcer. Through her work, she's met and commentated on Chiemi, Chou, Satsuki, Hitomi, Hana, Honoka, Mitsuba, Stella, Hiyoko, Ibuki, Junko, Kotoko, Sayaka, Emma, Kanade and Hibiki, and Tsumugi… Just to name a "few" of the talented people she's encountered in her prolific career. Each celebrity she meets just makes Yumi's popularity and notoriety grow, but the way she sees it is that Yumi helps these amazing people gain traction and affection from their fantasies, because she endorses and supports each and every one of them. She makes sure society knows why these people are amazing, and why they should be admired.

When Kizakura inevitably came knocking, Yumi all too gladly accepted the invitation, to her parents' chagrin. Her career was pretty up there already, but HPA clearly sees her as the best. … And they're proud of her, but her parents do regret that she grew up too fast. That they drove her to think this career is all that matters. It's not like they can hold her back anymore… But they hope that HPA can give her the friends that see past her public image and just want to be her friends. … Because she needs that no-strings-attached friendship, after feeling lonely for so long.

And she would get that special friendship years later, when Makoto arrives at HPA~…

Whew. (人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕) If you made it this far, as a treat Class 73 is fully finished and just needs bios. They will be released definitely before Christmas week and I'm going to work very hard at getting them all ready very soon.

[soliloqueeer]

13 Questions Every Harry Potter Fan Should Be Able To Answer

Question 1: Which house do you belong to?

Ravenclaw. I'm curious, creative and introverted. But I would also be happy in Hufflepuff since I am, at the end of the day, baby.

Question 2: Which Deathly Hallow would you choose?

If I'm being honest with myself probably the stone, to have one final conversation with my mother who recently, and very suddenly, passed away.

If that hadn't happened then I would've chosen the invisibility cloak because I love the idea of not being perceived.

Question 3: Which Character do you have a (not so) secret crush on?

Interesting question. I had to pick someone compliant with their characterization in the books then I'd probably say I'm most attracted to Tonks or Sirius, or the Weasley twins. But if you saw my AO3 history you'd think Tom Riddle.

Question 4: What are your Indepth and controversial thoughts on Severus Snape?

I think that Severus is a very tragic character. He came from poverty, was abused and neglected by his parents. The only person to ever show him kindness was Lily. He was canonically ugly, weird, and had bad hygiene. He was bullied by two classist Gryffindors and craved power and vengence which led him down a dark path. He died a hero who was courageous and self-sacrificing but I don't think she-who-shall-not-be-named wrote a convincing enough redemption story, especially not one in which the hero would give one of his son's Severus's name. He was still a wholly miserable person who was stuck in the past and verbally abused the child of his former nemesis for six years.

My controversial thoughts surrounding Snape was that he was first and foremost a genius - a potions prodigy who literally crafted his own spells as a teenager.

There was an unequal power dynamic between Severus and the Marauders. He was a dirt poor half-blood and they were rich purebloods. There was never any equal footing between them and as much as he participated in the feud, it was always in retaliation to their cruelty. (I can say this without bashing Sirius and James as all people contain multitudes).

I also don't believe Severus was a bigot. I think there's a good chance he hated muggles, as a result of the abuse from his father, but I he was too smart to buy into the idea of blood supremacy when he, a half-blood, was smarter than most of his pureblood peers. And when Lily, a muggleborn, was at the top of their class.

One of the more controversial headcanons I have is that Severus was recruited into becoming a Deatheater, not because he believed in their agenda but because he was allured by the promise of power, influence and vengeance. I believe he probably moved up high in the ranks after graduating Hogwarts because he was cunning, ambitious, and committed to proving himself and gaining Voldemort's respect. I also believe during his time as a Deatheater he most likely had to commit horrible acts of violence and cruelty, and that while Severus does have a sadistic streak (one that gives him the allusion of power), he does not wish suffering upon innocent people. He probably dealt with these peforming these acts by compartmentalizing his responsibiltiies as a Deatheater and using occlumancy.

One final thing I want to add is that I don't think Severus was obsessed with Lily in a 4Chan, incel sort of way (in fact, he kind of gives off ace vibes). In my opinion, Lily was the only person to ever give him love, kindness and compassion, and while he was in love with her, he was above all else, completely wracked with guilt over being responsible for telling Voldemort about the prophecy. He agrees to protect Harry because he feels indebted to her until the day he dies.

Question 5: Who, In your Opinion, Is more evil: Voldemort or Dolores Umbridge.

What a funny question. The first thing that comes to mind for me is Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump and the discourse in 2015-17 about which politician was worse. Voldemort (like Trump) is honest about who is is and what he stands for (self-interest and accumulating power). Alternatively Umbridge (like Clinton) tries to create the perception that she is good and righteous.

Umbridge represents the banaltiy of evil. She's sadistic and abusive, even towards children -all while wearing a polite smile on her face. She has the same vibe as a Catholic nun who abuses people in the name of god, and for Umbridge it was about the rule of law.

However, Voldemort's evil can't even be measured on the same scale. He's a meglomaniac eugenicst willing to purge the world of things he deems inferior to him. He was inspired by dictators like Hitler and Stalin.

It's far easier to hate Umbridge because she's not honest about who she is, and we've met a figure of authority who's exactly like her. Voldemort by all accounts and purposes, was far more powerful, influential and destructive, but too grandiose to relate to.

Question 6: Which death in the series is the most heartbreaking?

Sirius, Fred, Remus, but especially Fred. It was cruel to take him away from George. I think it would've been more satisfying if Percy, as a way to redeem himself to his family, sacrificed himself to save his brother during the Battle of Hogwarts.

Question 7: What Quidditch position would you play?

I wouldn't. I'd probably be in the stands or take advantage of the school being empty and fuck around in the empty castle all day.

Question 8: What Wizarding Career would you pursue?

Probably a teacher or academic/Unspeakable as I love research. That or someone who paints the magical portraits.

Question 9: Which book in the series is you favourite?

PoA was always my favourite as a kid because I really loved Lupin's character, and hearing about the Marauders. The time-turner plot gives me an eyeroll now but the climax is still one of the most thrilling to me. We also got a taste of Powerful Harry, which actually never came to fruition, but I really loved the idea that Harry was a very exceptional wizard who was coming into his powers and not just an every-man character.

Question 10: Who should have ended up together? Hermione/Ron or Hermione/Harry?

Hermione/Harry if it was developed earlier on. The author explained that Ron/Hermione was something she pigeonholed herself into in the first two books but later regretted it. I think canonically, Harry and Hermione are like siblings, but if their relationship was developed after PoA then it would've been really satisfying to see.

Question 11: Have you read Harry Potter and the Cursed Child?

No. Never will.

Question 12: Was Dumbledore a Hero or a Villain?

A hero. His plan worked in the end, as convoluted it may have been. I don't see Dumbledore as an all-good Santa-Claus-Grandpa character like his die-hard fans do, but I also don't see him as a chess-player villian twirling his moustache from the shadows.

I used to really hate Dumbledore because of how secretive he was. It was absolutely insane for him to have put Harry on that wild goose chase with such little information and it was a miracle they won the war at all.

At the end of the day, I think he was a man that feared having too much power due to the mistakes he made in his youth when he was hungry for it. He influenced things from the sidelines because he knew he was imperfect. He made mistakes all the time, and owned up to them, and if he was all-powerful those mistakes would have much graver consequences.

He loved Harry, in the end, and did not want to see him in that mess, but had the pressure of saving the world on his shoulders.

Question 13: Who is the real Hero of the Story? Harry Potter or Neville Longbottom?

Seems like a redundant question to me, but perhaps there's discourse around it I'm not aware of.

Harry is. But he doesn't carry that tile alone.

[ultragift]

You're not getting away this time.

FROM: @ultrakill-gabriel TOO: @transgirlsgetswords “combat scene between v1 and v2 (either art or writing)”

Walking up the stairs took longer than usual. Maybe part of it was about giving the other time. Maybe another wanted a dramatic entrance for the ending scene. V1 watched as its counterpart cracked its knuckles, a metallic echo resonating in the empty chamber. New arm, same routine. The air hung heavy with the tension of impending conflict. The only sound as V1 walked closer was the drone of their engines, and the quiet scrape of metal as they prepared to draw arms, each footfall a declaration of intent. As V1 quickly tossed a coin to the shotgun's line of fire, V2 veered left, its wings ablaze in orange hues, seamlessly merging with the torches' fire in the corners. Metallic feet grated across the floor, leaving scuff marks etched alongside the grit-caked tiles, as testament to their relentless pursuit of supremacy.

It knew more about V2 than it did its other fuel sources. It was hard not to when it kept escaping, and, apparently now, because it came back. Every movement was anticipated, winning only determined by who could press the trigger first. One would retreat, the other would attack, matched step for step. V2 would circle, V1 would stay put to fire from above. It was all perfectly even, all calculated, bent on winning.

That's what this was. Fuelled by desperation, and the blood that would keep them moving through hell. Both needed it, both knew they wouldn't get it with the other bent on getting in the way. V1 knew V2. It knew V2 had its attack patterns linked to its wings; it knew how to counter them; it knew vengeance. But along with its arm, there was something else foreign to its twin. Fear. Vengeance. It didn't want to die. It had a score to settle, and a machine to grind into scrap.

Movement. It took one point nought nine seconds to register, longer than usual for V1's systems. Instead of fleeing as it usually did when its wings turned green, a pattern V1 had seen since their first fight, V2 crashed through the side of the chamber, rubble falling to its feet. Or where its feet should be.

Its double wasn't just trying to escape. V2 was taunting it. Racing into a slide down the sun-painted side of the pyramid. Waiting for V1 to follow. Jumping down to chase after it, V1 followed, a momentary flash against the sandstone backdrop. A blur of blue chasing after red. Maybe it was something in its code, seeing its double, red and full of fuel, that activated an instinct far more fitting of an animal than a weapon.

The incline was steep, far steeper than calculated from above the slope. V2 was a deserter, fleeing the battleground of the dust covered tomb. V1 was going to set that straight. Jumping down, its heels dragged across the bricks, hot on the trail of its doppelgänger. It's clear V2 was built during a time of peace. Something in V1's circuits wishes it could gloat. Running from a fight is unsportsmanlike, even when you know you'll lose.

The staccato rhythm of gunfire set the pace for the dance. Fire, dodge, retaliate. Fire, dodge, retaliate. One step forward, one step back. Perfectly mirrored. It was infuriating. It was certainly a strange thing for a weapon to hold a grudge. There's a first for everything, though. It shot the coin before V1 could. V1 punched back with its stolen arm. It wasn't about winning. It was about making sure the other knew the depth of their defeat. Feeling wasn't built into them. It was clawed out of their wires, shot across the floor to drip down and stain what it touched. A cacophony of hatred reverberating through their fuel lines, working overtime as they slid after one another. Hatred. Hatred. It was going to put V2 in its place.

As they descended, the shadows of the pyramid embraced them, elongated and malicious. A final shot reverberated through the ancient structure as a haunting soundtrack. It wasn't just a race; it was a reckoning; a crescendo coming to a climax. A score to be settled.

As V2 slid down the pyramid's face, it fell. The other knew where it was aiming for. V1 had hit its gyroscopic sensors with a nail attractor, making it near impossible to continue combat at this angle. Or at any angle, considering how it fell limp on the stone.

V1's victory was underwhelming, but anticipated. Its counterpart left nothing but its makeshift arm and a pool of wasted blood. V1 leaned down and attached it nonchalantly, and kept moving forward. New arm, same routine.

[brekkie-e]

Was doing an Aggie with some friends and it got out of hand. But! Now I have a line up of my current BG3 custom party. Girl squad supremacy.

A divorcee, a house wife, and a bottle of pepto bismal walk into a bar…. Oop I mean wake up on a nautiloid.

OC info under the cut.

Anathema is a high elf wizard. Well, she will be. She’s only scraping by because Wizard 101 was a mandatory class during her secondary school years. She’s about 350 years old, just discovered her scumbag politician husband has been covering up his affairs by trading his mistresses souls to a devil in exchange for political influence. Naturally, she found a contract with her name on it as well. The poor thing was running away when the Mindflayer’s caught her.

She’s an archivist who keeps plants as a hobby. Deathly afraid of any and all animals. 10/10 stands on chairs when she sees a mouse. Naturally she’s romancing Halsin.

Epione is a grown up street rat. Unbeknownst to her, she’s a cambion born from Mephistophole’s latest plot to overthrow Azmodeus. He’s trying to collect a whole bunch of divine soul sorcerer’s for some nefarious reasons, and ended up making an elite force of off spring in the process. There are 7, naturally based off the seven deadly sins. Epi’s oldest brother decided he didn’t want to participate in his dad’s messed up plans anymore, so when he was sent to collect her after her mother died in child birth… he delivered her to an orphanage instead. Her wings were cropped by the headmistress there for better or worse. She ran away when she was about 7 and lived on the streets of Baldur’s Gate ever since. She doesn’t know much about where she came from, but she’s trying her best. This is an insanely condensed version of the story XD. Chaotic little cinnamon roll, wild magic sorcerer who’s going to eventually get a few levels of bard so that she can have vicious mockery and cutting word.

Epi is about 226. She’s intended to be the chaotic good that balances out Astarion’s chaotic bad.

Neriah is the answer to the question “what if Molly Weasley were a dnd character.” She’s happily married, the mother of 8 children, and a crochet connoisseur. Legally adopting all the companions. Being kidnapped by Mindflayers has provided her the first day off she’s had in 26 years. She began looking at it like a bit of a vacation. Up until she realized she’d have her hands full just as badly with the companions, if not worse considering she raised her children with manners. She’s a paladin, and I’ve yet to decide if she’s going to be oath of devotion (with the oath being focused on her returning to her children) or oath of vengeance (with it being focused on ripping off the heads of those who thought they could separate her from her kids.)

Neriah is a half elf, and she’s about 85.

[justice-forever]

Nighthawk By Green-Mamba

Real Name: Kyle Richmond

First Appearance: The Avengers #69 (October 1969)

Orphaned as a child by in a racially motivated drive-by shooting, Kyle Richmond vowed to dedicate his life to stamping out white supremacy. Undergoing rigorous physical training and using his inheritance to craft an array of weapons and vehicles, Richmond became the Nighthawk, the vengeance against all who would prey on the disenfranchised.

The most controversial recruit of Hyperion's Squadron Supreme, Richmond had at first been a proponent of the Utopia Project, as he believed it was the best way to bring about the systemic change the world needed.

But when it came to forcibly reprogramming people, Richmond saw the potential it had to be used as a tool of oppression, and he left the Squadron a fugitive.

Joining together a group of like minded individuals who sought to put an end to the Utopia Project, their fight became a perilous one as the natural disasters caused by the untethering of their world with their counter-Earth worsened.

On the day of the alignment, when it was believed the two Earths would cross each other's paths in space, Richmond's redeemers intended to use the cover of the worsening earthquakes to take back the Squadron Supreme's headquarters, but fate took a different turn.

Expecting to find the halls empty as the Squadron was busy dealing with the latest natural disasters, Richmond instead found a bearded wizard in a red cloak battling to contain a giant man with green skin.

Wary of potential collateral damage, Richmond tried to intervene in their conflict before the sorcerer's dimensional mirror spell was shattered by the green goliath.

When he came to, Richmond did not find himself in the Squadron's headquarters, instead in the sorcerer's sanctum--on the counter-Earth.

It seems the sorcerer, who called himself Doctor Strange, was attempting to help the green man, called Bruce Banner, contain his anger in a phase shifted dimension, but they had accidentally ended up in the respective counter-Earth in doing so due to the alignment.

Richmond explained himself and the dire situation of his counter-Earth.

But with the alignment now passed and the unusual circumstances of the transportation not known, Richmond was now stuck in a different world as his slowly died, trapped under the tyrannical heel of the Squadron Supreme.

As Strange tries to help Nighthawk figure out a way back to his counter-Earth, Nighthawk joins his nascent Defenders team alongside the Hulk after learning that the Avengers had been hunting the green giant down for deserting them, which makes Nighthawk see the Avengers as little better than the Squadron Supreme.

Yep, another Squadron Supreme member.

Obviously if you're going to do a second one after Hyperion it has to be Nighthawk, the Squadron Supreme's answer to Batman.

But Nighthawk is a funny one--there are like at least four Nighthawks, all named Kyle Richmond, who have all had a prominent role in the Marvel comics at some point.

There is the original Squadron Sinister one who later became a hero and joined the Defenders, there is the actual proper Squadron Supreme one who lead the redeemers against them (and later died, passing his mantle to his son), there is the Supreme Power one who was a black man fighting against racists, and then there is the modern one from Mephisto's Squadron Supreme.

I decided to merge the first three together, he's a black man who fights against racists who joins the Squadron Supreme but ends up fighting against them with the redeemers and then ends up joining Doctor Strange's Defenders.

But that meant there was a lot to get through in the bio! I hope I hit all the main points.

So Nighthawk is actually the first person from Counter-Earth to cross over to the mainline Earth (as the Squadron Supreme is from Counter-Earth in my universe).

And if you're keeping track, my Defenders roster is Doctor Strange, Valkyrie, Hellcat, Nighthawk, and Hulk. This is the entire starting roster, if you're wondering.

Maybe I'll draw them all together in the future. I dunno.

But yeah. I think the two most well known looks for Nighthawk are the original Defenders' era's Nighthawk and the Supreme Power's Nighthawk.

So I tried to combine the two looks while also trying to make him look as much like Batman in silhouette as I could.

So he's got the dark blue with the yellow bird emblem and the wing like red cape of the original (plus the extendable claws!), as well as the scale armor and scary goggles of the Supreme Power's Nighthawk.

The added little "ears" on the side of the goggles help give him more of a Batman like silhouette, and yeah, I know hawks don't have points like that on their head, it makes him look more like an owl.

But that's okay.

The bird emblem took the longest to design, I originally tried to get it to look closer to his classic emblem but it just wasn't working out, so I took inspiration from Nightwing's emblem, what with the whole Batman connection.

And like I said with Hyperion, the Squadron Supreme are designed to look inherently less grounded than my normal Marvel designs, to help sell them apart.

[practickles]

Tsukasa Tenma Tickle HCs

In honor of his birthday, here's some headcanons for a certain world future star.

Warning: This post is, as the title suggests, entirely focused on tickling. If that's not your thing, please just respectfully block the tag and scroll away :)

He's a ler leaning switch, but he more often than not ends up on the receiving end anyway. 

He sees tickling as a playful, casual way to make others smile.

When he's tickling others, their comfort and safety is his top priority. He just wants to make everyone smile. 

Very very very silly ler

He isn't at all shy when he's giving, he can talk about it and initiate it just fine.

He usually has at least a half baked reason for it. He doesn't surprise people a whole lot. It's typically something like "You're looking a little sad." Or "You've been annoying me all day" or even plain vengeance.

LOVES playing the tickle monster. He adores watching his friends smile and squirm while he makes all kinds of silly noises and says things like "Grrr, the tickle monster wants to tickle you!" He gets so into it, it's almost like watching him act on stage. 

In general he enjoys being theatrical and dramatic with his tickling, often pretending to be big bad villain or a noble hero defending the citizens. 

Rui in particular finds this very flustering, so Tsukasa uses it for revenge fairly often.

Likes to sing and pretend to play the piano while tapping all along the lee's spots. He avoids doing this to Toya, and instead just sings to him while he loses himself in laughter.

Also likes doing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider". He draws out the notes just to drag it out and build anticipation.

He mainly tickles Rui, Emu, Saki, Toya, and occasionally Nene when she lets him.

When they were little, he used to tickle the other members of Leo/need a lot, but as they grew up they all kinda grew out of it. He has very fond memories of it though.

He still gets Saki a lot when he gets worried and she needs cheering up. Seeing her so happy and carefree can really put some of that big brother anxiety to rest. 

He's really a wild card when it comes to how he tickles. He can vary a lot between rough squeezes and quick tracing. It really depends on the reason behind the tickles and the preferences of the lee.

The only thing that matters to him is seeing his lee happy.

He is a fantastic pianist, meaning he can move his hands very quickly if he wants. Absolute lee killer if he does. 

He adores tickle fights, even though he rarely wins. 

Something about fighting and using his strength to make someone laugh as hard as possible, while also dodging and fighting their counterattacks really makes him feel good and energized. 

Tickling others in general makes him energized. If someone gets him going, chances are they're gonna be stuck laughing for a while because the more they laugh, the more he wants to tickle them.

I am a firm believer in shy leeKasa supremacy.

Touched on this a little earlier, but despite how good of a ler he is, he usually ends up with other people tickling him. That's purely because of how easy he is to tickle and fluster and just how often he gives people reason to. 

He's dramatic, stubborn, and has a tendency to overwork himself. Easy lee.

The most ADORABLE thing is tickling him bad enough that his laugh goes from the loud, boisterous "Ha ha ha!" to squeaky squealing giggles. 

The switch is sudden, and typically a breaking point when a ler moves to a worse spot. He gets so embarrassed and shy. One moment he's laughing and enjoying himself so freely and the next he's curled in a ball all red faced and making silly high-pitched noises. 

This boy LIVES for the attention he gets. Being at the mercy of a ler as they tickle and tease him makes him feel so special and cared for.

Not that he'd ever admit it though. He gets super embarrassed and flustered over any mention of him being tickled or God forbid him ENJOYING it. 

He is very easily affected by any kind of teasing, but especially any compliments or the ler saying how much they love him and his laugh. 

Please just give him attention :(

Weak to massages, especially to his shoulders. Being held in someone's lap after a long day while they squeeze and flutter at his upper back and shoulders is his own personal idea of heaven.

Rui gets him all. The. Time. But Emu, Nene, Saki, and on occasion, Toya, Kaito, or Miku are also known to tickle him too. 

Isn't really one for being restrained. Beyond tickle hugs, it's just not really his thing. He allows it but it doesn't make anything feel more or less sensitive. This isn't much of a problem though because he doesn't move around a whole lot.

He'll squirm a little for show but if he's being honest, just laying back and letting it happen is so nice. 

His death spot would have to be that little soft area between the top of his ribs and his armpits. That's really the only exception to the "no squirming" thing. His instincts completely override and he tries anything he can think of to get away, even if he doesn't mean it.

On his tummy, just above his waist is a really close second though. It makes him curl up and squeal. 

Rui likes to tease him by saying that his squeals even surpass his singing range and that they should try it on stage sometime. Tsukasa is not nearly as amused as Rui is.

Generally, he's not overly ticklish, he's pretty average but those two spots get him bad. 

Will. Not. Ask for tickles. He's the type to think he's being subtle when he tries to provoke it. He's not even remotely sneaky and it usually ends with the ler making him ask.

If someone sneaks up on him and tickles, he absolutely screeches. It's so much worse to him if he can't prepare for it.

----

In conclusion: He is both the ler and the lee ever

[pandoramsbox]

Sci-Fi Saturday: Gold

Week 13:

Film(s): Gold (Dir. Karl Hartl, 1934, Germany)

Viewing Format: Blu-Ray: Kino Lorber

Date Watched: 2021-08-20

Rationale for Inclusion:

Most popular histories of German cinema gush over its silent era and Fritz Lang's early talkies, boils the Nazi era down to propaganda films, and then rapidly moves on to West Germany's New Cinema of the 1960s and 1970s. When touring the Berlin Film Museum in 2006, they had an exhibit acknowledging cinema made under the Nazi regime, but it was plain, matter of fact, and not at all celebratory of any figure or works. The standing international agreement to not give Nazis more credit for anything positive created under their supervision between 1933 and 1945 is one that this lifelong Indiana Jones fan, from a country that has historically been less willing to acknowledge its own history of genocide and white supremacy, cannot argue with.

However, when something is made deliberately withheld or rendered taboo, it risks developing a fetishistic or contrarian following. Curated, contextualized access is preferable to dispel mystique and render a work mundane. However, a work's problematic nature cannot be exercised completely, nor can the stain of its lineage be fully forgotten once known. This mental calculus of having interest in or love for a work despite it or its creator's controversial nature is something each person must work out for themselves.

All that to say, if you're grossed out by the inclusion of a film created under the Nazi regime, that's a completely fair perspective. However, surreptitious curiosity is also valid, and a normal human emotion.

And curiosity is definitely what motivated my inclusion of Gold (Dir. Karl Hartl, 1934, Germany). Partly it was wondering what a Nazi supervised science fiction film was like, period, especially relative to the Weimar Era films previously viewed. Partly it was a more basic curiosity: the prospect of hearing the voice of Brigette Helm, of Metropolis (Dir. Fritz Lang, 1927, Germany) fame. And to be perfectly honest, the simplistic wonder of hearing the voice of a performer whose art focuses on pantomime was the bigger draw.

Reactions:

Brigette Helm has a voice that is consistent with her appearance: elegant and German. The anticlimax of learning that fact is on par with realizing Harold Lloyd has a soft spoken, Midwest accent that matches his aesthetic, as opposed to the surprise of Charles Chaplin's English accent or Buster Keaton's deep baritone voice.

That question out of the way, what about the film itself? Nothing especially anti-semitic or fascist in visuals or content makes its production origin glaringly obvious. Given that like F.P.1 [AKA F.P. 1 Doesn't Answer] (F.P.1 antwortet nicht, Dir. Karl Hartl, 1932, Germany) an additional French language version was produced with export in mind, and the Nazis had just come to power and purchased UFA in 1933, and would not begin explicit international aggressions until 1938, it follows that they would not want to compromise cinematic commerce in 1934. 

Instead, Gold is about the relationship between scientific progress and capitalist greed. A German scientist (Friedrich Kayßler) is about to succeed in the dreams of the alchemists and create a machine that can transform lead into gold, when sabotage destroys the machine and its creator with it. His engineer Werner Holk (Hans Alber) swears vengeance for his friend, and takes a job with industrialist John Wills (Michael Bohnen), who arranged the sabotage in order to corner the market on the technology. Holk proceeds to take down the usurper from the inside and the film ends with lots of satisfying explosions.  

Amid the straightforward wrong scientist seeks revenge narrative are some incredible set pieces. Giant electrodes and machines with tunnel trains connecting the underground laboratory to the mainland. The sets and props were so impressive that footage of them was later reused in The Magnetic Monster (Dir. Curt Siodmak, 1953, USA). However, UFA did not make additional science fiction films during the Nazi era, so the sets and props were not reused in other movies by the studio.

Gold is interesting and ultimately competent but unremarkable, compared to the genre films that came before it. 

And if you are interested in learning more about German cinema during the Nazi era, I recommend the documentaries Hitler's Hollywood (Dir. Rüdiger Suchsland, 2017, Germany) (which features Gold briefly) and Forbidden Films (Verbotene Filme, Dir. Felix Moeller, 2014, Germany).

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Adam B. Coleman

Published: Feb 24, 2023

Leftists hurl rocks at America, claiming it is an irredeemably racist nation. But what happens when they discover they live in a glass house, and are as much a part of that messy, flawed history? 

Activist, communist and former fugitive Angela Davis was shocked to learn she is a Mayflower descendent on Tuesday’s “Finding Your Roots” episode. 

Now 79, Davis was the latest to appear on the PBS show where celebrities and public figures learn about their ancestry. 

Near the episode’s end, after discussing multiple members of her family, the former Black Panther learned she’s descended from William Brewster, one of the 101 people who came to the colonies in 1620 aboard the Mayflower. 

“No, I can’t believe this,” Davis replied, laughing. “No, my ancestors did not come here on the Mayflower.” 

She continued to protest while Gates confirmed the findings, then responded, “Oof. That’s a little bit too much to deal with right now.” 

“Would you ever in your wildest dreams think that you may have been descended from the people who laid the foundation of this country?” he asked. 

“Never, never, never, never, never,” she said. 

Our villainous selves 

Activists like Angela Davis have spent their entire careers excoriating America’s ancestors for their supposed participation in or benefiting from a system of white supremacy since the first Europeans landed here — and now Davis has realized she descends, at least partly, from those very villains. 

As horrified as Davis may be at finding out this information about her lineage, she shouldn’t be. Even if she were right about her interpretation of “old America,” she has nothing to do with it and she has nothing to be ashamed of. The sins of the father shouldn’t be paid by the son; likewise, we shouldn’t judge Davis’ grandchildren for having a commie as a grandmother. 

Leftists have a hard time understanding that we shouldn’t encourage people to behave like the communist regime in North Korea, which punishes all descendants with imprisonment for up to three generations for a single action of someone who happens to be in their bloodline whom they may never have met. 

America’s glass house 

History is complex because people are complex. We should stop being overly critical and simplistic about the behavior of our ancestors, who were people of their time, by comparing it to our present-day norms and social expectations. 

As clean as we think our hands are, in a couple of generations, our descendants could easily look back and shake their heads at some of the barbarism we think is completely normal and remains legal. 

Just because we know how to utilize far more advanced gadgets than our predecessors doesn’t mean that we are any less humanly flawed than them. 

Rather than constantly litigating and debating the past, why don’t we continue to build a better country together? 

You’re not supposed to throw rocks while living in a glass house because you’re not the only one who has access to rocks, and the motivation for vengeance gives people herculean strength as well. 

But in this case, you shouldn’t throw rocks because you may accidentally damage your own window. 

==

Angela Davis has plenty to apologize for. But it's all her own doing; none of it has anything to do with her ancestors.

Inherited guilt is immoral, whether it's religionists or activists attempting to impose it.

[whocookedthelastsupper]

“In the beginning was the Word," declared St. John, "and the Word was God." In fact the word was a lie. In the beginning, God was not. But as history unfolded in different nations and at different times, it became necessary to invent him.

For the assumption of divinity and power from a purely physical base had certain crucial limitations. The human penis, even when inflated to magico-religious status, falls short of godhead. Up to a point, the rising phallocrat had carried all before him. Women's traditional power based on creation and nature had been systematically whittled away. The Sacred King had stolen from the Great Queen her selective technique of man-management on the Kleenex principle of "use and throw away," and applied it wholesale to the female sex. But brute force could only go so far. So long as women still retained their atavistic power of giving new life, they could not be stripped of all association with the divine.

Additionally, with the discovery of agriculture and the consolidation of tribes into townships, human societies became increasingly sophisticated, requiring structures, systems and administration. Once survival was assured, surplus became property, and man awoke to the glory of being lord and master. To secure ownership and protect rights of inheritance in a more complex society called for something subtler than the indiscriminate deployment of man's bluntest instru-ment. And with the increase of organizational structures came greater opportunities for subversion or resistance; every tribe, township, throne room or temple held women of ingenuity and resource eager to demonstrate that, whatever men's claim to power, it would not automatically be accepted. These women could not all be destroyed like Berenice or Boudicca, thrown to the dogs and ravens, or hurried to unmarked graves. Achieving power, man reached out for the secret of control; and as he began to look beyond the end of his penis, he found a stronger lord, a greater master—God.

Male divinity, of course, was nothing new. Isis had her Osiris, and Demeter had been forced to bow to the vengeance of the Lord of the Underworld. Indeed, as phallomania swept the world, male godhead found a new measurement in lost maidenhead; Zeus, king of the immortals, demonstrated his supremacy by the numbers of young women he raped. The new gods of power were equally aggressive and rapacious. The difference was that now each one insisted that he alone was God—he was the One God, the only God, and no one else could play.

For within the short millennium or so that separates the forging of Judaism from the birth of Islam, all the world's major religions made their debut one by one. Immediately each set about the twin tasks of carving out their own community of believers, and annihilating all opposition. Where other male deities were targeted for extinc-tion, what price female divinity? Walking in the garden that had been Eden, Mother Nature met Father God and her doom. In the duel for possession of the soul of humanity she lost her own, as the father god, in Engels's phrase, brought about "the world historic defeat of the female sex."

Not all these new religions were god systems. Judaism offered the paternalistic prototype, once it had succeeded in elevating the petty tribal godlet Yahweh into quite a different order of being after the trauma of the Exile just before 600 B.c. Islam likewise patented the slogan "There is no God but God" following the birth of its prophet Muhammad just before A.D. 600. And straddling the period between the two, lodged at its pivotal midpoint, was the reformed Judaism called Christianity formulated when the old God of the Jews gave birth to a son in whom, as a junior version of himself, he was naturally well pleased.

Equally important, though, to India and China respectively, were Buddhism and Confucianism, both of which arose with the birth of their human founders and spread far and fast from these deceptively. modest origins. Neither Buddha nor Confucius ever claimed to be divine, and their teachings are properly understood as value systems rather than as religions proper. But the foundation of their beliefs was uncompromisingly patriarchal]the founders themselves have been worshiped as gods by their followers throughout history; and the ideologies of both these systems have had a remarkably similar impact on women's lives to that of religions organized around a central con-sept of a Father God. To women, therefore, the effect was broadly the same, however the message of male supremacy came packaged. All these systems—Judaism, Confucianism, Buddhism, Christianity and Islam —were presented to them as holy, the result of divine inspiration transmitted from a male power to males empowered for this purpose, thereby enshrining maleness itself as power.

Historians, both male and female, have not always resisted the temptation to see the rise of monotheism as a plot against women since the aftereffects have been so uniformly disastrous for the female sex. But attractive though the notion of a cosmic conspiracy is to women's learned feelings of weakness and helplessness, it overlooks the fact that many of the elements of these early religions held a strong appeal for both sexes, and often for women in particular. Organized religion may have been a root cause of the historic defeat of womankind —Eve did not fall, she was pushed —but it did not begin with that aim. Seen in the wider context of the struggle of human beings of different races toward a deeper understanding of the meaning of their lives and of their growing spirituality, these five patriarchal systems readily reveal why in the first instance they were so attractive.”

-Rosalind Miles; Who Cooked The Last Supper; The Women’s History of the World

[thatstormygeek]

If you're facing a real threat of harm or abuse, and a person who holds some form of power or influence to protect you doesn't protect you, then you tend to stop thinking they're aligned with your safety, even if they speak for your safety, and you're less inclined to follow them. If the person who holds some form of power or influence to protect you actually provides material or rhetorical assistance to the people threatening and harming you, you tend to start thinking they're aligned with your harm, even if they are helping many others, and you're even less inclined to follow them. And if that person is the only option you have for safety, then you might start to despair, particularly if a great portion of the threat of harm has already converted itself into actual harm. I think of despair as the belief that you don't have much of a future in the world. Thinking you don't have much of a future in the world can make you stop caring so much about either the future or the world, or at least any world that has been configured into indifference about your existence within its future. And despair might lead you to care less when the future might end for other people, even if that's not the nicest way to be. It might even make you want the future to end for other people, which is a form of despair called vengeance. People who are less threatened or less harmed by the configuration of the world, or people who are for whatever reason more resilient against despair, might still care about the future and other people in it, but if they are wise, they will understand that vigorously scolding somebody who has been abandoned to abuse and harm and is in despair because of this probably won't help them leave despair behind, and blaming them for their pain probably doesn't differentiate the scolder in the minds of the abused from the people engaged in the abuse.

Joe Biden like any other politician is going to alienate somebody no matter what he does. If he tacks left he'll alienate some on the right who might vote for him instead of Trump. And if he tacks right then he'll alienate voters on the left, who are choosing between him and a protest vote against him—most likely either voting third party (which since we're talking about math means somebody who will not win) or not voting at all. These are contingent voters, insofar as they may or may not vote in support. They're often called swing voters. These are distinct from non-contingent voters, who are going to vote in support no matter what. Trump's got lots of these kind of voters. Biden does too. They're called the base. This is a gross simplification, I know, but elections tend to lend themselves to gross simplifications, and I think this one will make the discussion a little easier. Biden's choice (and Trump's, too) is which swing voters he wants to alienate, and how he wants to alienate them. If he alienates voters to the right, then swing voters on the right will be less likely to vote for him, but voters on the left will be more likely to do so. If he alienates voters on the left, leftist voters will be less likely to vote for him, but voters on the right will be more likely to vote for him. Again, a pretty simple equation. Neither Biden or Trump gets to choose whether or not to do this math. They get to choose how they want to do it, and whoever gets the answer closest to reality wins the election, at least in a functioning system.

Trump's differentiator is authoritarian supremacy. This means that his pig ignorance, his grotesque indecency, his sexual assaults, his fraud and corruption, and his ability to walk around as a free man and enjoy press coverage that treats him like a normal participant in the democratic process even though he is an insurrectionist traitor to the constitution who threatens the families of the judges presiding over the 91 felony charges he faces are all positive qualities for him, because they are a way of demonstrating that he truly is an authoritarian supremacist. And so, as long as he promises maximum brutality against the people that our entrenched supremacist power systems don't favor, he gets to continue to rule over the public discourse and the law and basic human decency and even observable reality. His supporters' unshakeable support is how we can tell that authoritarian supremacy is what they want: they don't support him despite the fact that he is a rapist and a confederate criminal that enjoys total impunity, but because. Additionally, the fact that people who aren't paying much attention might slide his way is a pretty good way of detecting that brutality and supremacy and corruption are totally digestible parts of our status quo, intrinsic foundational aspects of the way things are. Biden's differentiator involves maintaining the status quo; a promise that things will go on relatively steadily rather than dropping immediately and completely into fascist tyranny run by by and for creepy Christian fanatics who want to control our bodies and our lives to satisfy the bigotry and self-regard that they worship as their god. That's a compelling differentiator, at least for those that our system hasn't yet consumed. Thus, even though I still don't like Joe Biden, I feel I must vote for him, because I can clearly see that the other way this can go gets much worse for far more people—trans and gay people, disabled and sick people, people in poverty, people who are pregnant or can get pregnant, Black people and Jewish people and other marginalized people, and even eventually coddled little me, because the threat of open emboldened fascism is vast, and the end of any form of democracy in our country is real. This is different from saying that things are not already very very bad for such people, as part of the status quo that Joe Biden promises to maintain. Biden's problem is that many of us can clearly observe that our culture, our arrangement of power, and our government is built to consume people, and the easily observable proof of this is all the people it consumes.

[...]

Center-right voters are just part of the bloodless math—we need their votes. If we don't go after them by accommodating them and enticing them, we don't get them, and that's just being realistic. Center-right voters holding their vote contingent based on their personal comfort doesn't make them selfish or childish or responsible for Trump. Them holding their vote contingent doesn't make politicians less likely to seek their vote—it makes them the people whose vote must be sought and won. Somehow this isn't the case for swing voters on the left. When swing voters on the right hold their support contingent, I'm told it means that they obviously must be pursued as a function of simply bloodless math. When contingent voters on the left do so, I'm told it means they obviously have to be abandoned for the exact same reason. And maybe so. I have heard all the arguments about elections. Everyone has. We're all invited to be election pundits, running bloodless math experiments to declaim with confidence that this path is preferable to this path, that this is the path that will secure the bag. So you can offer those arguments if you want. Maybe you even have the math correct. Maybe you're right when it comes to the question "how shall the election be won?" Again, I'm pretty bad at math, and I'm not nearly as confident in this sort of armchair predictive analytical game as we're all invited to pretend to be. What I do know is that seeking the approval of coddled people who don't want to pay any cost of improvement doesn't differentiate us from fascists, even if the calculation is correct. I do know that.

[dizzyaddy]

drowning - naruto x oc part 3

(i do not own any naruto characters, only the original characters)

“long ago, mother and father brought me to the outskirts of the village and explained our clans history to me, would you like to hear it?” sen asked while i brushed through her thinning hair. my eyes widened as i eagerly nodded, then remembered she couldn’t see me before i excitedly answered with a “yes!”

“well then, get comfortable imouto,” she said before dramatically clearing her throat. i smiled and rolled my eyes before situating myself to take my time with her hair. “long ago, the two strongest clans, the senju and uchiha, were at war for centuries, fighting over supremacy. i’m sure you’ve heard of this, yes?” she asked before i hummed in response.

“this isn’t well known, but our clan was the only one that rivaled the power of the senju. when hashirama crafted his wood style, he was thought to be the one and only shinobi to acquire such a power. what people don’t know of is the secretive people of niwa,” she continued. my fingers combed through her hair before separating the strands and twisting them around each other.

“it was a place quite literally hidden in the leaves, constantly guarded by the immense amount of greenery that shielded them away from the world. behind those green walls lied the people of niwa, a clan that had spent years garnering and perfecting their power of shokubutsu,” i listened intently as i interlocked her hair pieces around each other, an intricate braid starting to take form .

“the niwa were a peaceful clan, never interested in the violence and chaos of the shinobi world. that’s why they kept themselves a secret for so long- they knew their power was great, and that it would only cause feuds among other clans.” i hummed in response, showing her she held my full attention.

“one day, an outsider managed to sneak past the secret walls and enter our divine sanctity of peace. at first, the niwa wanted to turn him away. he was an outsider, with unknown origins and intentions. against their better judgement, they took him in and started training him the niwa way of life.”

“you see, our clan was all about protecting the peace and prosperity of the earth around us. legends say that our ancestors could hear the earth all around them, the ground beneath their feet, the whispers in the air, the secret songs of the bustling leaves.”

“it sounds magical,” i softly stated, listening to her hum in reply.

“yes, it truly was, kyō. since it was their way of life, seeing the beauty in everything, they saw no harm in spreading the power and peace of what it means to be a niwa. though this mysterious person was an outsider, they soon considered him to be family. he mastered the skills it took decades for the elders to harness, and was soon respected by everyone in the village.”

“though, this wouldn’t last long as the man ultimately had ill intentions. his goals were far different from that of the niwa- he wanted the gifts to grant him control and power in the world. the niwa saw this and attempted to strip him of his gifts, but to no avail, he eradicated half the village by showcasing how great his powers were. he left the village with all of our secrets and all of our trades, and the niwa were left powerless in their defense.”

“that is, until from the ashes of their battle rose a young warrior who continued to seek this man out. this young woman was born and raised into the niwa clan, with niwa blood coursing through her veins. though she honed the clans secrets and had sworn before she would lay her life out for peace, she swore vengeance on this man that had decimated her family,” she added while my hands slowly made their way toward the ends of her hair.

“so she seeked him out, honing and perfecting her own power on her journey. through her travels, she came across many clans and many places with differing gifts and abilities. she had never known anything outside of her clan and their confining walls, and so she came to love the world around her even more. she promised that when this all ended, she would give back everything she had back to this sacred land.”

“her journey was long and troublesome, but she ended up finding this traitor man amongst many other nameless and village-less shinobi. he had vowed to train them to procure this incredible gift he possessed, and finally give them a place in this world. at first she was in disbelief, at how such an evil person could have a change of heart. naturally, she didn’t believe him, and so of course, a tense battle between the two had ensued. he managed to lure her away from the others so no harm would come to them, but one of her signature shokubutsu jutsus had caused damage to erupt onto the village.”

“upon seeing his people wounded and his home thwarted, the man became enraged and allowed himself to unleash his full power against her. their battle raged on, both of them not holding back on each other. eventually, they had come to a standstill. their powers were far too great to simply exterminate one another. they were both severely wounded, and on kami’s doorstep.”

“so what happened?” i asked impatiently, not having sen’s hair to preoccupy me anymore.

“you see, kyō, during their battle the woman came to the realization that what she was doing was everything her own clan had disapproved of. with this, upon analyzing their current states, she decided to end both of their lives. before she did, she allowed herself to conversate with this man she thought she hated. and after doing so, he told her to story of everything. of how her kind people sheltered him and turned on him once they doubted his powers. he recited to her in depth of the carnage that mistakenly waited for him on his journey.”

“at first she didn’t understand, but after having seen the extent of his gifts, she believed him. she no longer hated this man, despite the horrible deeds he had committed towards her. during this time, they both realized that they were ready for what was about to come. the only blood they would shed from this moment on was their own. and so they did, their blood intertwining with each other and creating a plethora of emotions. as tragic as it was, they both knew it was the honorable thing. “

“what they didn’t know of is the divination their sacred blood held within. upon their deaths, something in their intertwined blood had miraculously produced a divine tree of chakra. this tree was believed to uphold the balance of good and evil, and bring prosperity to the lands surrounding it. what was left of her clan heard of their tumultuous story, and decided it best to seek out this enchanted tree.”

“and so they deserted their lively yet comforting walls and took refuge around this grandiose tree. they soon realized that this tree indeed reacted to something within their blood. they felt a surge of chakra and a boost in their shokubutsu wielding, which prompted them to mark this tree as their home.”

“when mother and father took me the outskirts of the village, i was able to catch a glimpse of such a beautiful tree. it was tall and luscious, and even from far away i could feel its energy serging throughout the land,” she said wistfully, a sparkle profound in her honey eyes.

“sen,” i started, weary of what i knew was inevitable to leave my mouth. “what do you think the tree would do for you?” i asked, feeling her stop moving in front of me.

“can i be honest, kyō?” she asked gently, immediately prompting me to nod my head profusely. “if the tree were still up, i would have made it my mission to make that place our home. after all, it was our birthright,” she said longingly.

“well what happened to it?” i asked, feeling a pain run through my heart. if only, i thought to myself.

“in the nine tails attack, the fox had decimated half the village and the surrounding lands. it makes sense, since the ancestral tree was a huge target throughout the forest. i just wish it wasn’t so, as that tree held thousands of years of history and our ancestry,” she said defeated, recounting all the horrors of that horrible day.

“don’t worry, sen. i’ll do whatever it takes to keep you happy and healthy and safe,” i repeated while finally moving in front of her. the braid fell from the top of her head to her waist, adorning her with a beautiful look. she took her hand and placed it on top of mine affectionately, rubbing small circles into it.

“you already said that, baka,” she stated with a small smile. her eyes were downcast, but i knew better.

“that’s because i mean it, onee. i swear on my life, i will save you, just as you saved me long ago,” i said, my eyes starting to burn from the tears that threatened to spill. she looked up at me lovingly, her hand moving from mine to my cheek.

“if there’s anyone that can do it, it’s you, kyō. i believe in you,” she said, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen down my cheek. we held each other close that night, afraid of what would happen if we let go and let this moment pass. long after she had fallen sleep, small noises escaping her chapped lips every so often, i stayed awake contemplating every possibility in which i could save her.

[charmixpower]

Morgana, Major Fairy of Natural Light

Morgana, her vibes were always off to me ngl. Imagine asking your daughter to attack the people who raised her. Idiot behavior

S4's less that stellar writing aside, this is the former queen of faries

At first queen of faries was more of a statement of power over a political position, but while in Tir Na Nog a natural leader system based around the major faries emerged with Morgana at the top

Tir Na Nog was originally just a seemingly usual island with a unusual amount of magical residents. Unbeknownst to anyone living there at the time, it's above Earth's magical core

Yep! Earth's magic core is under ground! This is why earth faries aren't guardians faries, but instead are major faries. They didn't know the planetary core was even there. This was well before anyone realized the earth wasn't flat, so cut them a little slack

This is also why Earth had the bloodiest magical wars compared to other planets. On most planets, one group would get access to the planetary core, battle to retain supremacy over it, then pull a Rome and keep everyone in line by being too strong to fuck with. It still sucked, but it wasn't the constant battling of the earlier major faries. Since any strong enough magic user can just....promote themself to Major, unlike a guardian fairy that can be eventually be regulated, shit went tits up every time someone unhinged or a war monger was born magically powerful

This wasn't happening currently, the Wizards of the Black Circle attacked during a time of peace established by Morgana, but it was recent history

Morgana was kinda hoping to work hard and make a council of faries to stop any faction form getting too strong, aka a earth version of the magix council, but the Wizards plunged the world back into war before she was able to finalize that

I think it would be tragic if the Wizards wanted to stop magical wars, and attacked the person who made the most progress in ending the conflicts peacefully, and throwing the earth back into the longest and most brutal magic war and putting humanity into the dark ages

Plus!! It ties into the revenge bad plot of the vengeance faries

Anyways Morgana, accidentally, used the the power of Earth's planetary core to seal the Wizards of the Black Circle and they used it to seal them on Tir Na Nog right back. Both sides sucking up all the magic in the atmosphere to elongate their lives, accidentally pulling the rest of the magic in Earth out

The Wizards of the Black Circle we're so smug before they learned that humans made nukes while they weren't looking. Lots of screaming about how humanity managed to get better at murdering eachother when they explicitly took away magic to stop them from doing that. The major fairy problem but WORSE now

Morgana specializes in defense and special magic. Tends to stick to the back of battles. Usually found taking care of the children and adolescents in Tir Na Nog as a sort of surrogate mother for all those who lost their families

The other faires who were living in Tir Na Nog, primarily fellow major faries, we're the ones who initially spread the word, but none of them made it. This is how Morgana realized that Major Faries would always be targeted above any other fairy. She used this to her advantage savings many young magic users

[deathlessathanasia]

"While excluding a detailed account of the functioning of the Olympians, Hesiod does, however, describe how Zeus’s marital policies continue the integration of the old gods into the Olympian order, a policy that had previously proved critical to his victory over the Titans. Some of his children complete the Olympian pantheon as we know it from, for instance, the Homeric poems. With the closing of the cycle of succession, however, no one of his sons can offer a serious threat to Zeus’s supremacy. The oldest daughter of Cronus, Hestia, like Hecate, remains a virgin. Leto’s gentleness disarms her mighty son, Apollo; Demeter has only one daughter; and the possible threat posed by Ares, the only legitimate son of Hera and Zeus, is resolved through his marriage to Aphrodite (933–37). Hera’s other son, Hephaestus, is both illegitimate and defective. Between these two males, Athena, whose allegiance is to her father alone and who combines in herself both war and art, is born.

The offspring of Zeus’s earlier marriages constitute allegorical emblems of his regime, offering counterweights to the darker primal powers, especially the offspring of Eris and Night, who, as eternal entities, do not disappear in the new order, but henceforth at least are counterbalanced by their opposite numbers; thus, for example, the pleasant daughters of Themis, the Horai, Eunomia (Good Order), Justice, and Peace, form counterweights to Dusnomia (Disorder), Strife, and Battles. Most telling in this context is the birth of a new set of Moirai. While the grim triplets sprung from primordial Night manifest themselves only as spirits of inexorable vengeance for the crimes of both gods and men (220–23), their later namesakes dispense good and evil but only to human beings at their birth. Similarly significant in characterizing the harmony and order of the new dispensation is Zeus’s marriage with the Titaness Mnemosyne (Memory), perhaps the only “love-match” in the whole Theogony, a union that produces the lovely and lovable Muses from which the poem began. Their presence here also fulfills their command to Hesiod to celebrate them both at the beginning and at the end of his composition (34)."

- Hesiod's Cosmos by Jenny Strauss Clay