#america is only good if your goal in life is to make 6 figures and you enjoy serving big tech as an ML engineer for faang

[crotovane]

currently feeling that "binge watching day in the life of a japanese worker videos" depression tonight

[marvel-fanfic-writer-8675]

The Jungle Unknown Part One

*This is a soulmate AU series*

Pairing: Steve x Bucky x reader

Warnings: Cursing, reader not putting up with anyones shit, nothing else really

Summary of the series: You are a close scientist friend of Bruce’s so when the team needs help from someone with her expertise, they call in the best, you! But what happens when you find the 2 people you’ve been looking for your whole life?

As always don’t steal, copy or translate my work without permission, and all the characters belong to marvel unless it’s an OC by me

Background:

You love science but hate working in boring labs 24/7 so instead, you travel through jungles and places untracked by anyone else, and risking your life. You specialize in BioChem but dabble in Botany and Medicine. Now onto Chapter One!!! Hope you all enjoy the story!!!

~At the Avengers Tower~

“Alright,” Steve states in his Captain America voice, “there’s been reports of a cave with this rock that HYDRA has been after, our goal is to get to it first and find out why they want it so badly.” “That doesn’t sound too hard, I’ll just fly in there with my epic suit and get it.” Tony confidently says. “Can’t get there by flying Stark, the jungle around it is too thick, we have to get there by foot, and sadly for us, no one here knows their way around the jungle, not this one anyway, this one has its own reputation. Those who go in, never come out.” Steve says, making the last part sound like a ghost story. Everyone but Bruce sighs, feeling disheartened that they can’t figure out a plan. “I know that look, what’s going through your head, green bean?” Tony asks Bruce, using the nickname he knows Bruce hates. “Well, I might know someone who can get us through the jungle,” Bruce responds shyly. “What do you mean Bruce?” The Captain asks suspiciously, I mean who could get through something even super soldiers had trouble with? “I’ll give them a call, they might not answer, they are usually out in places without cell reception.”

“Well, it’s ringing, that’s a good sign, means she has reception.” Bruce informs his team. “Put it on speaker, we want to hear,” Tony impatiently replies. “Hey, Bruce long time no….call? How’s it going?” You ask after answering the phone call from your close friend from college. “Good, good,” Bruce reassures, “But I’ve got a slight problem that I think lends more to your science expertise than mine, think you can lend a hand, or do you have another trek to go on?” Bruce asks, only partially joking with you on the last bit. “I can come see what I can do, I had an adventure planned but I think I’ll cancel it to come help a friend out, besides I haven’t seen you in a while, or had any time off.” “Great, want to come by for dinner tonight and we can discuss the problem and sorts?” “Brucey, you asking me out on a date?” You joke with him, “ Now I don’t think your soulmate would like that very much, and I think Natasha can kick my ass on her worst day and my best” You hear snickers in the background, realizing your on speaker phone.” Oh, god, I’m on speaker aren’t I?” You say embarrassed “ Right, I’ll be by the tower at 6:30 for dinner, tell Nat I’m sorry.” You say and quickly hang up the phone, going to prepare for the dinner in a few hours. “I like her already” Tony declares, the rest of the team agrees that they can’t wait to meet you tonight.

~A few hours later~

You arrive at the tower, dressed in clothing a little fancier than you’d normally wear but that’s not much of a high bar considering you mostly wear cargo pants and button up shirts, what can you say, they have a lot of pockets. You walk into the Avengers Tower greeting Happy, happily. You show him your ID and he leads you towards the elevator to take you up to the dining room. You are a little nervous meeting the Avengers, but who wouldn’t be. A ding takes you out of your thoughts as you arrive at the floor. “ Hey Y/N! There you are! Glad you could make it!” Bruce greets you, the rest of the team sitting around the living room, or in the kitchen finishing up cooking. “Glad to be here, and hope I can help you with your problem!” You all head to the dinner table and start to dig into the delicious Sokovian dish Wanda made. “So, Y/N, tell us about yourself.” Steve speaks up, trying to get to know the woman. “Well, I met Bruce in college, we had a few classes together and were study buddies, he was one of the only people willing to talk to me, I have two soulmate marks, so yeah.” You say, a little nervous at that last bit, since most people looked down upon people with more than one soulmate mark. It was incredibly uncommon, but you were one of the lucky few. “Really? Cool! Don’t worry about that here by the way, we are all very accepting, after all, we accepted Mr. Grumpy Pants over here didn’t we?” Sam chuckles noticing your hesitation at the last bit, wanting you to know there was no judgement here. Full of relief you continued, “Haha, yeah, so I also have a PHD in Bio Chemistry, a major in Botany and I dabble a little in medicine.” You continued telling them about yourself and you all ended up sharing embarrassing stories about each other, Banner throwing in one about you in college getting drunk and beating a bunch of overly confident dudes in archery.

After dinner the topic turned serious as Cap stared off the conversation with “Well, I guess we’ve got to get to business,” and he explained the situation with HYDRA and the rock. You were confident you could help till you heard which jungle it was, nicknamed Satan’s hell, as it took the lives of almost everyone who went into it. You look over wearily at Banner, “You guys do know why the jungle is literally named Satan’s hell, right?” “You’ve done it before Y/N, I’m sure you can do it again!” Banner said encouragingly. “Yeah, with a fully trained team, only going halfway in, and everyone on that team was either badly injured or dead when we got out, I was in the hospital for a week, and I was the luckiest one.” You growled at Banner, slightly annoyed that they would even bring up the possibility of going back in. “Yet you were their Captain, and without you they all would’ve died, if anyone can get us through this it’s you, and this is really important, so please Y/N at least think about it.” Banner begged, knowing you were their only hope. “I’ll think about it and give you an answer in the morning” you say calmly, albeit slightly annoyed “dinner was great, thank you.” You head to the elevator and out to your car, you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight.

~In the morning~

You were right you couldn’t sleep, but at least you had a decision. You were going to do it. Was it stupid? Yeah probably. Would you get hurt? Oh, yeah, definitely, but they needed your help and they risked their lives to help save the people of Earth, including you, so you might as well return the favor.

Instead of giving them a call you decided to head to the tower and deliver the news in person. Happy let you up, remembering you from last night, and you had FRIDAY inform the team of your arrival. They were all anxiously waiting outside the elevator, they all knew that if you said no, this mission would be a bust…..

The doors opened and you straight out said “I’m in, but are you up for the challenge?” The team sighed in relief. “ Doll, I went through basic training in the 1940s, I’ll be fine” Bucky said being cocky, and Steve nodded along. “I can make WWII and HYDRA look like a walk through the park. Don’t doubt how hard it will be. That’s the number one mistake, and the reason people get killed.” You responded seriously with a slight smirk. “So, who’s on my team?” You asked, Bucky, and Steve raised their hands. “Ah, the super soldiers huh? That provides its own sets of pros and cons, we start tomorrow, in the gym, bright and early, 0600 hours, you can use your ‘basic training’ to figure that one out.” And with that you went to talk to Tony and Bruce about a room, which just so happened to be next to your two new friends, Steve and Bucky.

AN: Ahhhhhh!!!! Here is it Chapter One! Not exactly sure how long the book is going to be, I know how I want the story to go but…..yeah. Hope everyone enjoys it so far!

[revenge-of-the-shit]

Writing Chinese characters set within Western worlds

If you don’t want to read it on tumblr, go check this out on medium or go follow me on instagram at @annessarose_writes!

Alright. You know what. I’ve seen plenty of stereotypes in fiction (and in social media) that are so incredibly pervasive I’ve seen many Chinese people within the western world internalize it themselves. So here’s a rough guide on writing Chinese characters in an English-speaking Western setting, written by me, a Chinese Canadian woman.

If you’re here to say something racist fuck off. Otherwise, welcome! This is not a comprehensive guide by any means. This is merely a brief overview based on my own experiences. My experience (as someone in North America) will differ from someone living in, say, Europe or South America. I’m not representative of every Chinese person because everyone’s experience is unique. So here were are.

1. Our names

Chinese names are usually written as follows: [family name] [name]. Let’s take a Canadian historical figure as an example: 黃寬先. In Chinese, it’s pronounced “Wong Foon Sien.” On Canadian documents — which are written [First name] [Last name], he’d be called “Foon Sien Wong.” He went by “Foon Sien” for most of his life. That’s his full “first name.” Nobody would call him Foon because that’s just half of his name (unless given permission). It’d be like meeting a stranger called Alex and calling them “Al” right off the bat. Sure, they could go by Al, but you don’t know that.

For those of us living in the Western world, some of us have both a Chinese name and an English name. In these cases, our Chinese name becomes our middle name in English (e.g. a character could be called John Heen-Gwong Lee).

For some people who immigrated to the Western world but were born in China, their legal name would be their Chinese name. Some choose to keep that name. Some choose an English name as their “preferred” name but keep their Chinese name on legal documents. It varies.

2. Parents & Stereotypes

There’s two stereotypes which are so pervasive I see it being used over and over in jokes even within Chinese (and, to a larger extent, asian) communities:

The [abusive] tiger mom and the meek/absent dad

Both parents are unreasonably strict/abusive and they suck

I have yet to see any fiction stories with Chinese parents where they’re depicted as kind/loving/supportive/understanding (if you have recommendations — please do send them my way). Not all Chinese parents are tiger parents. Chinese parents — like all parents — are human. Good god. YES, they’re human! YES, they have flaws! YES, they are influenced by the culture they grew up in!

That isn’t to say there aren’t parents like those tropes. There are. I know this because I grew up in a predominantly Chinese community where I had many a friend’s parent who was like this. Parents who compare their kids to the best kid in class. Parents who force kids into private lessons and competitions that the kid despises because the parents think it’s for the best. Parents who have literally called their kid a disappointment because they didn’t get 100%.

But please, also consider: there’s parents who support their child’s goals and who listen. Not all parents force their kid into the stereotypical trifecta of lawyer/doctor/engineer — I know of a good number who support their child in choosing the path they want. There’s parents who make mistakes and learn and try their best to support their child. So please, for the love of god, if you write a Chinese character, don’t reduce their parents to stereotypes.

3. Language & Learning

When I first read The Son of Neptune by Rick Riordan, I was so excited to see a Chinese Canadian character in Frank Zhang. Finally, there was someone like me. Finally, there was representation in well-known western media.

While I do appreciate that RR added in Frank Zhang, it’s pretty obvious that he didn’t really know how to write a Chinese Canadian character. One of the most glaring examples: in The Son of Neptune, Frank reveals he can’t really read Chinese. In like, the next book (I think — it’s been a while since I read it), Frank is suddenly able to read Chinese because he “learned” it in two week’s time.

Nope. Nuh-uh. Learning Chinese is a pain, let me tell you. There’s thousands of different characters and it is something you need to devote a lot of time to learning (especially if you’re progressed past the best childhood years for learning a language). So if you’re writing about a Chinese character living in the western world, here’s what you need to know:

A character who was born and raised in the western world does not necessarily know how to read/write in Chinese.

If they were raised by their own family, the character would very likely know how to speak their own dialect. They’d be able to understand the language used in movies/TV and they sound like a native speaker, but they may not know how to use language outside of certain contexts (the term for this is heritage speaker).

They probably went to Chinese school. They probably hated it. Chinese school is usually universally hated and does not teach you jack shit other than a hatred for the place and a vague memory of learning how to read the language without actually retaining knowledge of what you learned.

Most of my friends who know how to read/write in Chinese learned from tutors, parents, or were born in China.

There’s two main types of written Chinese: Traditional (used by Cantonese speakers) and Simplified (used by Mandarin speakers).

There are MANY other dialects (which I don’t know much about). The most common ones are Mandarin (usually spoken by people from the mainland), then Cantonese (usually spoken by people from Hong Kong).

4. Fitting into the community

Usually, the story is one of two things: they’re the only Asian kid in the entire school, or they grew up in a predominantly East Asian community. Things to consider for both of these when you’re writing:

Growing up the only Asian kid

They’re “that Asian kid.” They’re different. They walk into a class and feel weird and out of place.

They bring food from home (usually ethnic cuisine) to school. Other classmates stare at it, make fun of it, demand what that strange food is.

“Where are you from?” “Here.” “No, like, where are you really from?”

“Your name is funny.”

People literally never getting the character’s name right.

And that horrible, horrible feeling: wishing that they were white so they could avoid all of this.

Growing up in a predominantly East Asian community

It’s not uncommon for Chinese cuisine to mix with other east Asian cuisines. For special occasions (or just for a casual night out), your character could very well go out to get some sushi, or go for some KBBQ, or get some Vietnamese noodles.

Screaming “AIYAA” at/with their friends unironically if they’re annoyed (I’ve done this a lot with Cantonese friends. Less so with Mandarin friends).

Slipping into Chinese for like, two words, during a mostly-English conversation to talk about food or some other topic that can’t be adequately conveyed in English.

Reading books by white authors and learning about white history and growing up thinking white names, white books, and white history is the norm and standard even though the community is surrounded by East Asian people.

When the character leaves this community, there’s a brief culture shock when they realize how sheltered they’ve been.

Things in common for both of these:

The character has grown up on ethnic cuisine. Yes, Chinese people do eat rice with many of our meals. Yes, boba (bubble) tea is extremely popular. No, rice isn’t the only thing we eat. No, not all Chinese people love boba (though as a Chinese person I admit this sounds sacrilegious to say…)

The character likely grew up watching film/TVthat originates from East Asia. It’s not uncommon to watch Studio Ghibli films. It’s not uncommon to watch Japanese or Korean shows with canto/mando dub (examples: Ultraman, Kamen Rider). If you want to see a classic Chinese film from Hong Kong that’s fucking hilarious, watch Kung Fu Hustle.

The character has felt or been told that they’re “too westernized to be Chinese, but too Chinese to fit into the western world.” They’re torn between the two.

5. General portrayal

It’s quite simple, really. We’re human. We’re regular people. We have regular hobbies like all people do. We’re good at some subjects and bad at others. We have likes and dislikes like all people do. So here’s a list of stereotypes you can avoid.

STEREOTYPES TO AVOID BECAUSE WE’RE REGULAR HUMANS AND WE DON’T FIT INTO A SINGLE COOKIE CUTTER SHAPE, DAMMIT.

The character is a maths whiz and perfect at all things STEM.

The character is a straight-A+ gifted/IB/AP student.

The character is the next coming of Mozart and is amazing at piano/violin.

The character’s free time is spent only studying.

The character is insanely good at martial arts.

The character is either meek and submissive or an explosive, dangerous force.

I’m not going to mention the other stereotypes. You know, those ones. The really obvious ones that make fun of and demonize (sometimes through multiple untruths) how we look and how we live our lives. You should know.

Of course, there are people who fit into one or more of these. That’s not the point. The point is: molding all Chinese characters to these stereotypes (which white media tends to do) is harmful and reductionist. We’re more than stereotypes.

—

6. Conclusion

We need more diversity in portrayal of Chinese characters. Reducing us into one-dimensional caricatures has done nothing but harm us — look at what’s happening now. This guide is by no means comprehensive, but I hope it has helped you by providing a quick overview.

If you want to accurately portray Chinese characters, do your research. Read Chinese fiction. Watch Chinese films/TV. Initiate a conversation with the community. Portray us accurately. Quit turning us into caricatures.

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring: chapter 4 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Bakugo and Reader finally get a moment alone, and important conversations are had. Over dinner of course ;) 

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Adult language.

A/N: Sorry for the wait on ch 4, but it’s over 10k, so hope that makes up for it lol Anyway, hope you enjoy!

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 3 Tumblr Link: Here 

“Great. See you then.” 

The words ricocheted around your head like pinballs, and all you could do was stare as Dynamight turned on his heel and strode out of your ruined shop like he couldn’t stand to be there a second longer. 

“Bak—bro, c’mon!” Red Riot, or Kirishima as he insisted, called after the blond, who didn’t stop. Then the redhead turned back to you, clapping his hands in front of his face and bowing his head. “I’m so sorry about him. He can be a little…” 

“Direct?” you offered when the hero trailed off into silence for a beat to long. 

“I was gonna say he can be a little bit of a dick, but that sounds better,” Kirishima laughed, and you felt your face flush when he aimed that charming grin in your direction. 

You’d heard stories of how charismatic Red Riot was. He was a popular, mainstream favorite hero. The gossip magazines were always covered with his shirtless pictures that never failed to rile up the female population, even Mrs. Kojima and her old lady friends. 

But nothing could have prepared you for being in front of him, for having him wink and smile at you, even if you logically knew he wasn’t coming onto plain old you. He was currently wearing a dark hoodie and non-descript jeans, but you could still see the definition of his muscles through the bulky clothing, which definitely wasn’t helping matters. 

“W-Well, I’m sure you and D-Dynamight have more important places to be,” you stuttered as you averted your eyes. “I-I don’t want to keep you from any hero business.” 

“Alright, alright, I can take a hint, I’ll get out of your hair,” Kirishima chuckled as he held his hands up. 

Your face burned even hotter, if that was possible. “N-No! I mean—” 

“Just a joke.” The redhead winked at you again as he started to back up toward the front door, his boots crunching over glass and debris. “I’ll see you later, though. Oh! And, uh, make sure you’re on time tonight for Bak—Dynamight’s pick up. He really hates tardiness.” 

“Noted,” you murmured as your stomach bottomed out inside you. 

“Don’t look so terrified!” the pro hero laughed, pausing in the frame of your broken doorway. “I promise he’s not so bad once you get to know him. All bark, no bite, remember? But if he does bark at you too much, just let me know, and I’ll be sure to leash him.” 

Kirishima shot another sharp-toothed grin at you, and you strained your facial muscles to try and flash him a small smile in return. You weren’t very successful, since Red Riot’s bright expression dimmed a fraction, but thankfully he didn’t come back into the store. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he said in a more serious but reassuring tone. “We can get breakfast! I know all the great places around the agency.” 

“O-Okay.” You didn’t know what else to say. Why was this pro hero offering to take you to breakfast? Was this just because of the news? You’d seen how the media had been tearing into Dynamight the last two days, calling him reckless, arrogant. Several interviews with the other heroes who’d been on the scene didn’t help matters, either, since by their accounts, they almost had the villain handled before Dynamight stepped in. 

Maybe Red Riot was just trying to butter you up so you didn’t help with Dynamight’s crucifixion. 

What the redhead didn’t know, however, was you couldn’t say a word against the blond, even if you wanted to. 

“Okay,” Kirishima echoed and drew you out of your thoughts. The pro hero flashed you one last smile and put two fingers to his forehead in a jaunty salute. “Have a good rest of your afternoon and evening! And when you get to the agency, if you need anything, just let our PR manager Nao know. Take care!” 

With that, the redhead pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt, slipped on his sunglasses, and ducked out of your store. Seconds later, he was gone. 

A beat of silence passed by, then two, and then you felt your knees give out from under you as you collapsed to the floor. Pain flared through your lower legs as you struck the hard, debris-strewn tile, but you barely registered the discomfort. Your breathing started to quicken, coming out in harsh pants, and the two paper bags in your arms crinkled with the motion. 

“Fuck,” you exhaled as tears blurred your vision, lifting a shaky hand to grasp tightly at your hair. “Fuck.” 

You’d been so stupid. Yesterday, when neither Dynamight nor the police came banging down your hotel room door, you thought maybe you were just being paranoid. That the blond pro hero hadn’t noticed anything unusual, and you could just go living your normal, unimportant life. 

Of course, the universe just had to prove you wrong. 

Because if you had any doubts before, they were gone now, evaporated under Dynamight’s hot, crimson glare. 

He knew your secret, and he was going to confront you about it. Tonight. Why else would he insist on picking you up? Alone. You’d heard Red Riot say he was patrolling this evening, so he wouldn’t be around to play buffer between you and Dynamight, which provided the perfect opportunity for an interrogation. 

But what could you do? Refuse? Dynamight didn’t seem to be the type to take the word “no” very well. Run? The expression you’d seen on his face before he left clearly told you that you wouldn’t make it very far. Besides, where would you go? Your parents were in America, and as you embarrassingly admitted to that detective the other night, you didn’t have any friends. 

And, until your apartment and shop were renovated, you didn’t have a place to sleep, and you didn’t have the spare money to live out of a hotel, so the agency was really your only option. 

Well, there was prison, too, you supposed. Maybe Dynamight was just going to pick you up and take you straight to the police station. 

He’s not going to turn you in, a small, hopeful voice inside of you said. He would have already done so if that was his goal. 

There was logic behind that sentiment, but it offered you no comfort. 

Because if Dynamight didn’t want to turn you in, what did he want from you? 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Mrs. Kojima,” you sighed for the millionth time. “I’m going to be fine. And I really can’t take all of this with me.” 

You gingerly passed the large paper bag full of glass food containers back to Tadashi, Mrs. Kojima’s teenaged grandson, who stared at the bag with the hunger only a sixteen-year-old boy could achieve. 

“Fine?” the old Japanese lady scoffed, narrowing her dark eyes at you. “You would be fine in a nice, fancy hotel, not in a building with those… those… delinquents!” 

“Delinquents?” you couldn’t help but laugh. “They’re pro heroes. Famous pro heroes, some of the top in the country.” 

“If they’re so good, they wouldn’t have destroyed your home,” Mrs. Kojima huffed before she used her cane to nudge her grandson. “And Tadashi, give the poor girl back her food. Your face is too gaunt to be healthy, girl, and don’t think I can’t see those circles under your eyes.” 

The boy sighed as he stared longingly at the homemade food, and you could have sworn he was drooling, but he obeyed his grandmother and extended the bag to you again. 

“No, please, keep it,” you insisted as you waved your hands in front of you, taking a step back. “I-I don’t know if there will be a place to keep food in my room, and I don’t want to bother them too much.” 

“You should bother them, since they’ve been such a bother to you,” the old lady said as she nudged you this time with her cane. “You are too nice. I always say this. You need to be more selfish.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You smiled. “But thank you for thinking of me, Mrs. Kojima. It was very kind for you and Tadashi to come see me off.” 

“How many times must I tell you to call me Ayano?” the elderly woman groused, tapping your shin with her cane again. “And of course we came. I wasn’t going to let you stand alone on a dark street and wait for that monster of a man.” 

“Grandma!” Tadashi gasped as he looked up from salivating into the bag of food. “Dynamight is the number two hero! He’s not a monster, he’s the coolest!” 

“I’ve seen him on TV,” his grandmother sniffed. “Always yelling and swearing. And Mr. Takeyoshi said he was very rude the other night. Not to mention all the damage he caused! Nothing but a foul-mouthed delinquent.” 

“Grandmaaaaa,” Tadashi whined. 

You sided more with Mrs. Kojima on this one, but the absolute adoration on the boy’s face made a small smile tug at your lips. 

But your amusement quickly faded as you glanced down at your phone again. 

6:58. 

Said foul-mouthed delinquent should be here any minute. 

As if your thoughts summoned him, the squeal of tires suddenly echoed through the otherwise quiet twilight, and you turned—with a pit in your stomach—to face the intersection down the road. Your street had been blocked off by barricades since the asphalt was still missing in patches, so the sleek, black car that had just pulled up was forced to park on the corner and put on its hazards. 

Your heart was hammering beneath your sternum, beating out a frantic, hummingbird rhythm, and you watched the car door get flung open, a lithe figure ducking out a moment later. The last rays of fading sunlight glinted off his ash blond hair before he pulled up his hood, but then he was looking in your direction, and even if he was too far to see the details of his face, you felt the instant his eyes locked onto you. 

“Holy shit, is that him?” Tadashi asked behind you, followed by a yelp as his grandmother smacked him with her cane. 

“Language,” she hissed, but the rest of her sentence was drowned out by the blood roaring through your ears as Dynamight started to walk toward you. 

No, not walk. Stalk. He looked like a predator slinking down the sidewalk, dressed in black and skimming through the shadows. There were a few people milling about the street, your neighbors who were still trying to clean up, but the pro hero paid them no mind. His gaze was still zeroed in on you, and your breath grew more shallow with each step he took. 

Don’t pass out, don’t pass out, you chanted in your head. And smile! Try not to look like he’s your executioner. 

You plastered on a smile, but it felt jagged like the broken street you stood on, your cheeks aching from the strain. 

Finally, after what felt like a blink and an eternity simultaneously, Dynamight came to a stop about ten feet away from you on the sidewalk. His hands were shoved in the pocket of his hoodie, his face was a cold mask on the tipping point of a scowl, and his eyes felt like red-hot embers burning into your face. 

“At least you know how to be punctual,” he said without preamble, his voice as sharp as his scarlet gaze. 

You heard Mrs. Kojima gasp behind you, followed by Tadashi frantically trying to shush her under his breath, so you cut the old lady off before she could say what was on her mind. 

“T-Thank you for taking the time to escort me to the agency, Dynamight,” you said, bowing at the waist so you could get a moment’s reprieve from those red eyes. “It’s… very kind of you, since I know you must be busy with your hero duties.” 

Mrs. Kojima harumphed behind you, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself before you straightened up. 

Dynamight’s crimson gaze had lost none of its intensity, but he finally seemed to notice Tadashi and his grandmother over your shoulder, and when he spoke, he’s tone was a fraction of a degree softer. 

“Yeah, well… it’s the least the agency can do,” he said evenly, like he’d memorized a script. 

You wondered if Kirishima had said something to him after they left. Or maybe the PR manager the red-haired hero had mentioned? 

Suddenly, you heard someone clear their throat behind you, and you winced. 

“Sorry, this is Mrs. Kojima and her grandson, Tadashi,” you said, motioning to them. “They’re some of my customers who just wanted to see me off.” 

“Customers,” Dynamight echoed as his red eyes raked over the pair. “For your stitching shop?” 

Something about his tone seemed off, but you couldn’t place it. 

“Alterations shop,” you corrected with a frown. “But yes.” 

“Is that all?” he asked as his eyes locked with yours, and you felt your insides liquify. 

Fuck. There was no way he could know that Mrs. Kojima and Tadashi had been “patients” of yours before. Right? Even if he knew about your quirk, that was a leap to make. 

Then again, it did sound kind of weird for two random customers to take an interest in their seamstress’ personal life. You’d set yourself up for that one. 

You opened your mouth, ready to clumsily explain, but Mrs. Kojima beat you to it. 

“I knew her grandparents long before you were a thought in your daddy’s brain boy,” the old lady huffed as she hobbled forward to stand beside you, Tadashi stumbling after her. “So I check on her from time to time, especially when she’s meeting and going off with some no-good delinquent at night. Is that alright with you?” 

“Mrs. Kojima—” you started as your eyes widened. 

“Grandma!” Tadashi hissed, his face flushing with mortification. 

Dynamight, for his part, actually smirked at the old lady’s attitude, amusement dancing in his red eyes as he finally shifted them off you. 

“Well, Stitches here is gonna be fine,” he said with a sharp smile. “She’ll be staying in our finest suite, being waited on hand and foot for the next few weeks.” 

Stitches? What the hell was that? Did he forget your name? 

“Is that so?” Mrs. Kojima narrowed her dark eyes on the blond, and her expression said she didn’t trust the pro hero as far as she could throw him. 

“Lucky,” Tadashi muttered under his breath. 

“If you don’t believe me, you can call her tomorrow and check for yourself,” Dynamight said before he turned to face you completely, effectively cutting off any rebuttal from the Kojimas. “Are you ready? It’s cold, and the car’s running.” 

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, shifting the strap of your duffle bag higher up on your shoulder. “J-Just a second.” 

You turned back to Mrs. Kojima, who was blatantly glaring daggers at Dynamight, but her expression softened as she shuffled in to hug you. 

“Watch out for him,” she whispered in your ear. “And take care of yourself. If something’s wrong, call me, no matter what. You can stay with me, okay?” 

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine,” you murmured as you pulled away. “I’ll call you when I know more about the shop’s repairs. Tadashi, take care of your grandma for me.” 

“Bah!” Mrs. Kojima scoffed, shooing you back with her cane. “I can take care of myself.” 

“I know.” You smiled as you grabbed the handle of your small rolling suitcase beside you. “Have a good night.” 

You turned back to Dynamight to find him suddenly beside you, the scent of burnt sugar enveloping you a moment later. You inhaled so fast it whistled through your teeth, but the pro hero didn’t even look at you as he slipped his finger through your duffle bag’s strap and pulled it off your shoulder. He slung it on his back in one fluid movement, and then he was reaching for your suitcase, too. 

“I-I got this one!” you said, a little too loudly, as you stumbled back a step and dragged the suitcase with you. “Thank you, but, um, I’ve got it.” 

Dynamight pursed his lips at you, his eyes narrowing into crimson slits, but then his gaze jumped over your shoulder. 

“Got something you want to say, kid?” he grunted, and he looked a little ridiculous with your pink and purple patterned duffle peeking out from over his shoulder. 

“M-Me?” Tadashi gaped and glanced around quickly like there was anyone else within half a block, but when he realized Dynamight was still staring at him expectantly, the boy began to ramble. “I-I just, uh, I just wanted to say I think you’re the coolest hero there is. Even more than Deku! Man, I wish I could have seen the fight the other night. You probably wiped the floor with that villain! When I grow up, I hope I’m a hero half as cool as you.” 

Dynamight actually seemed surprised by the boy’s adoring word vomit. The blond blinked as the suspicion and defensiveness drained from his face and posture, and then an easy smirk stretched across his lips. 

“You got a quirk, kid?” he asked. 

Mrs. Kojima made a face beside you like she was going to cut in, but you put a hand on her arm and gestured to Tadashi’s beaming face, and the old lady sighed and relented. She knew what this meant for her grandson. 

“Yeah, I do!” Tadashi grinned and puffed out his chest before he shifted the bag of food in his grasp and held out his right hand. His brow buckled in concentration, but a moment later a flame exploded to life in his palm. The flame grew, flickering upwards as it twisted and twined, changing shape as it went. In the blink of an eye, the teenager held the hilt of a fiery dagger, which he twirled around his knuckles. “I can make different objects with flames, and they act solid when I concentrate hard enough.” 

“That’s a pretty cool power,” Dynamight said as he eyed the flaming blade. “Bet you kick ass in your hero course.” 

“I-I do alright,” Tadashi said as he extinguished the dagger, trying to go for a nonchalant shrug, but the effect was ruined by his mile-wide grin and heart eyes. “You really think it’s cool?” 

“It’s only cool if you’re the best, so don’t slack off,” the blond scoffed. “Only losers half-ass their way through school.” 

Mrs. Kojima’s face was silently scandalized, but Tadashi’s grew determined. 

“Yes, sir!” the boy said as he bowed at the waist. “I’ll work hard to be the best of the best.” 

“Good.” Dynamight smirked. “Then, when you graduate, you can come prove how strong you are by taking me on. Who knows? If you’re actually strong, we might hire a new side-kick.” 

Tadashi looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head as he straightened up, but the pro hero only snickered as he spun on heel and began to stride away. 

“You comin’, Stitches?” he called over his shoulder. 

“C-Coming!” you called back before you flashed the Kojimas one last smile. “Have a good night and be safe going home!” 

Then you took off down the sidewalk, your rolling suitcase clattering over the broken concrete behind you. 

Dynamight’s legs were twice as long as yours and quickly ate up the distance to his car still parked on the corner, and you only caught up to him as he was tossing your duffle in the trunk. 

You stood on the curb panting for a moment, just staring at him, and then the blond looked up and caught your eye. 

“What?” he grunted. 

“N-Nothing.” You cleared your throat and moved to pick up your suitcase, but he beat you to it, bending down and hefting the thing up in one fluid movement. The trunk slammed shut with a resounding thud, and the two of you were left staring at each other in silence. 

“Get in,” Dynamight finally said, jerking his chin at the passenger door. Then he walked around to the driver’s side, yanked open the door, and slid inside without another word. 

You could still feel the Kojimas’ eyes on your back, and you didn’t want to give them cause to worry, so you took a deep breath and got into the car. 

Even though your heart was trying to break free of your ribcage. 

The car itself was sleek and fancy, both inside and out. The seats were a supple red leather with ebony stitching, the dashboard shiny and inlaid with the newest gadgets, and you curled into the seat, afraid to even touch anything. This car was probably worth more money than you’d ever made in your entire life, and you had worked odd jobs since you were sixteen. 

The engine rumbled to life as Dynamight cranked the ignition, warm air blasting out of the vents and thawing your red nose and cheeks. The dash said it was only eighteen degrees Celsius, but the wind had been brisk. 

“Seatbelt,” the pro hero said as he yanked his own across his thick chest. 

You swallowed tightly before you did as you were bidden, and the second you were secured, the blond was throwing the car in gear and peeling away from the curb. Your barricaded street disappeared in a blur, and suddenly you were on your way. 

With Dynamight. Alone. In his car. 

The luxurious interior of the vehicle began to close in on you, feeling more like the walls of a coffin, and you braced yourself for Dynamight’s interrogation. 

Except… it never came. 

Minutes passed by in silence, and all the while, the blond’s red eyes stayed focused on the road ahead. One of his hands casually gripped the steering wheel, the other wrapped around the gear shift, and every one of the hero’s movements was fluid, precise. 

You tried not to, but you couldn’t help but study him out of the corner of your eye. His blank face gave nothing away, and neither did his slumped body language. He was covered in a dark hoodie and jeans again, so you couldn’t see much skin besides his hands and neck, but he looked… fine. 

One would have never guessed that he nearly bled to death beneath your hands two days ago. 

The memory of his blood, warm and tacky on your skin, made you clench your hands in your lap, and when you glanced over at the blond again, you nearly jumped out of your seat when you met red eyes. 

“Now you got somethin’ you want to say, Stitches?” he asked as he shifted gears, smoothly pulling around another car. 

“M-My name’s not Stitches,” you replied without thinking, but maybe this was a good thing. Thinking always got you in trouble. 

“Yeah, no shit,” the blond snorted, darting a quick look at you again before turning back to the road. “But you keep starin’ at me, so spit it out.” 

You fumbled for something to say, still thinking of his ashen face splattered with blood. “T-That was nice, what you said back there to Tadashi. He, um, really idolizes you, so you probably made his whole year.” 

“Tch.” Dynamight clicked his tongue as he looked in the rearview mirror. “Chances are, kid probably won’t end up as much.” 

You frowned. “But you said—” 

“I know what I said,” he cut you off, eyes meeting yours again. “And I meant it. Slacking off is for losers. Still, the brat will probably end up as a B-lister at most, more likely just an extra. That’s just the damn odds.” 

His words were harsh, but you knew they were true. There was no shortage of people signing up to be “heroes” in the world, but very few actually achieved the fame and notoriety of, say, All Might. Even years after his retirement, the Old Symbol of Peace was still talked about. 

“Well… thank you for not saying that to Tadashi,” you murmured as you averted your eyes out the window. 

“Someone will have to eventually,” Dynamight grunted. “But, if he proves me wrong, then he might actually have some potential.” 

“Mmm,” you hummed noncommittally. You didn’t want to talk about Tadashi anymore. Hell, you didn’t want to talk about anything. 

But you knew it was coming. You could feel the pro hero building up to it, the air in the car becoming more tense and charged by the second, like the calm before the storm. 

Part of you wished Dynamight would just rip the bandaid off already. 

The other part of you wondered if you would survive opening the car door and jumping from the moving vehicle, but at the speed the blond was driving, chances were slim. 

You were just thinking to pull out your phone and subtly look at the agency on the map to see how far away you were, but then Dynamight cleared his throat, and you felt all the saliva dry up in your mouth. 

This was it. 

“So,” the pro hero started as he pulled up to a stoplight, and his eyes found yours again. The red light reflected off his face and made it hard to tell where his irises began, everything washed out in crimson. 

But before he could get another word out, a loud growl split the interior of the car. 

Dynamight blinked at you before his gaze fell to your stomach, and you felt your face flare with heat. 

“Sorry,” you muttered as you clenched your abdomen, trying to shut it up, but it only growled louder in defiance. “I, um, forgot to eat dinner since I was busy packing.” 

And because your stomach had been in knots all day, but you didn’t need to tell him that. 

“Wasn’t that kid holding a whole bag of food back there?” Dynamight asked, frowning at you. 

“Y-Yeah.” You blushed even harder. Nothing escaped the pro’s notice, did it? “Mrs. Kojima had brought some stuff, but I didn’t know if there would be a place to store it in, um, whatever room I’m staying in. Plus, Tadashi is always hungry because of his hero course training, so it’s not like any of it will go to waste.” 

“You’ll starve yourself so some brat can stuff extras in his face?” the blond scoffed, and he looked at you like you were speaking another language. 

“I won’t starve,” you argued, a nervous laugh huffing out of you. “I-It’s one meal, and I ate a big lunch.” 

That was a lie, but maybe you could get away with a little one. 

Dynamight studied you for a long, silent moment, his face unreadable. Then the light turned green, and he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. 

“Tch.” He flicked on his blinker and turned left, weaving down a set of smaller streets leading away from the city’s center, where you knew his agency was located. 

“Where… are we going?” you asked as you glanced out the window. “Is this a short cut to the agency?” 

“We’re not goin’ to the agency,” he said. 

Your heart skipped a beat, and some of your unease must have shown on your face, because the pro hero scoffed again. 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. We’re stopping to get food first.” 

You blinked in surprise. Food? He was buying you dinner? 

“Y-You don’t have to do that,” you stuttered, awkwardly waving your hands in front of you. “Really, I’m fine.” 

“Well, I’m fuckin’ hungry, so I’m getting food. That alright with you, Stitches?” His red eyes flicked to the side and pinned you to your seat, and all you could do was nod. 

The car descended into silence again as Dynamight navigated through the streets, and a few minutes later, he was pulling up to a curb. The street around you was definitely in a better part of town than you were used to, but it didn’t look too fancy. A number of small restaurants dotted the road, interspersed by a couple bars, and a few dozen people roamed the sidewalks, laughing and stumbling and obviously having a good time. 

Dynamight stared out at the crowd through the windshield, a small sneer of disgust curling his upper lip, before he turned to you. 

“Stay here,” he said. No, ordered. “I’ll be right back, so don’t go anywhere.” 

“O-Okay,” you replied with a nod. 

He narrowed his eyes at you, as if trying to discern whether or not you were lying, but he must have been satisfied with what he found because he reached for the sunglasses that were casually thrown atop the dash. He slid them on before opening the car door and slipping out, but he paused before he closed it, bending down and poking his head back inside. 

“Any allergies?” he asked bluntly. “I don’t need you choking and dying on my leather seats.” 

“No allergies.” You shook your head. “Anything is fine.” 

A part of you still wanted to argue about him buying you food, but something told you that you would both lose the argument and succeed in pissing the blond off, which you were trying your best to avoid. 

Dynamight grunted in acknowledgement before he straightened, pulled up his hood, and slammed the car door. He took several strides away before he gestured back to the vehicle, and it was only when the locks engaged that you realized he’d taken the keys out of the ignition at some point. 

He really didn’t want you going anywhere. 

You exhaled shakily as you unclenched and clenched your fingers in your lap, trying to get some feeling back into them. Your thoughts kept threatening to spiral off down dark avenues, so you focused on watching the people outside the car. The windows were pretty tinted, besides the windshield, so you didn’t think people noticed you watching them go about their night. Everyone was happy and smiling, flushed with laughter and drink, and a yawning loneliness suddenly opened up inside you. Even back in America, you’d never had a lot of friends, but you had drinks a few times in college with classmates, and you missed going out to somewhere besides the grocery or craft supply store. You had thought you would have time to make new friends here in Japan, friends that you could try restaurants and bars with, but it hadn’t happened yet. 

And depending on what Dynamight had to say, it might not happen at all. 

You stewed in anxious silence for several minutes, but then the locks disengaged with a chirp, and the blond was sliding back into the driver’s seat, shoving a bulging plastic bag into your lap. 

“Here, don’t drop it,” he muttered as he jammed the keys back into the ignition. 

“I’ll just, um, set it on the floor,” you said as you shifted the bag down to the floorboards, holding it in place with your feet. The aromatic steam wafted out of the bag as you leaned over it, and your stomach snarled at the delicious scent of greasy meat and roasted vegetables. “This smells really good.” 

“Of course it does,” Dynamight sneered. “I’m not gonna eat shitty food.” 

“Only the best for the best,” you joked awkwardly. You blamed your sudden lightheadedness. When was the last time you ate? 

“Damn straight,” the blond huffed, yanking on his seatbelt before shifting the car into gear. “Can you make it five minutes without fainting?” 

“Yes?” you questioned more than stated, your brow furrowing. 

“Good, then hang on.” With that, the pro hero squealed away from the curb, merging into traffic seamlessly. 

Dynamight drove for several more minutes, but you didn’t ask where the two of you were going this time. The blond probably wouldn’t answer, and if he did, it would just be some kind of sharp retort, so you settled for staring out the window while making sure the food between your feet didn’t tip over. 

You hadn’t explored the city very much since you moved here, so most of what you passed by was foreign to you. But, just judging by the amount of lights and traffic around, you estimated that Dynamight was skirting the edge of the downtown area instead of going into it. You knew the general location of his agency, since you panic-Googled it earlier this afternoon, and while it was closer, the pro hero didn’t seem to be driving toward it. 

Eventually, Dynamight pulled up to the curb on an empty street and parked in the shadow of a tall office building. There was no sign on the façade to indicate a company, and only the dim emergency lights shone through the darkened windows, so it was obvious everyone had gone home for the day. Next door to the building seemed to be a small park, concrete and steel giving way to green grass and shadowed trees, but there was no one walking on this particular street. 

“Where are we?” you asked as you frowned out the tinted window. 

“Dunno,” Dynamight said before he opened his door, sliding out of the car without any more explanation. 

You blinked in confusion as he wrenched open your door a moment later, but he still didn’t say anything as he bent down to pick up the bag of food at your feet. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” you asked. “You drove us here.” 

“By the time I answer all your questions, the food is gonna be cold,” the pro hero grunted, and he glared down at you still buckled into your seat. “Get out.” 

“We’re not eating in the car?” You didn’t mean to ask this many questions, you could tell it was irritating the blond, but you were just so… confused as to how you got to this point in your life. 

“I’m not about to let you ruin my damn leather seats,” Dynamight growled, stepping back to give you room. “Now get out of the damn car… please.” 

The last word sounded like it was dragged out of the hero against his will, painfully, and you wondered again if he was trying to be nicer because of all the negative media coverage. You didn’t think the blond gave a shit what the media thought, but Red Riot and their agency did, so maybe Dynamight was being forced to make an effort. 

“Are you seriously just going to gape at me like an idiot? Do your legs not work?” 

Well, what was that saying? You could lead a horse to water, but you couldn’t force it to drink. 

“S-Sorry,” you stuttered as you fumbled with your seatbelt, and you nearly twisted your ankle falling out of the car. 

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re as clumsy as shitty Deku,” Dynamight grumbled as he easily caught your elbow and kept you from faceplanting. 

This close, you could smell the caramelizing sugar scent that you finally realized emanated from the blond, and even through the sleeve of your sweater, you could feel the strength in the pro hero’s calloused fingers. 

Your face flushed with heat, but you were pretty sure he was tired of your stammered apologies, so you just stepped up onto the curb as he slammed the passenger door and locked the car. 

Then he turned to the tall office building and froze before a scowl twisted his features once again. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, and his red eyes snapped to you. “You’re not afraid of heights are you?” 

“I… don’t think so,” you said with a frown. “I mean, I’ve been on roller coasters before, and I obviously flew here from America—” 

“Perfect,” the blond cut you off, shoving the bag of food at you again. “Take this.” 

“O-Okayyyy?” You tentatively wrapped your fingers around the plastic handles of the bag as you drew the food close to your chest. 

“Now, hop on,” he said as he turned around and crouched, his fingers starting to crackle with light and flares of heat. 

“Wh… what?!” Your whole body felt hot this time, not just your face. “Y-You want me… to get on your back?” 

“Again with the damn questions,” he growled, glaring over his shoulder at you. “If it will get you to move your ass faster, we’re eating on that roof, and unless you have wings under that sweater, I’m the only one who can get us up there, and I need my damn hands to use my quirk. So. Hop. On.” 

You gaped at the blond for a millisecond, a thousand more questions racing through your mind. Why the hell were you eating on a roof of a random building? Was this allowed? Why couldn’t you just go back to the agency? 

But you knew by the look on the blond’s face that he’d reached his limit with questions, so you could do nothing but comply. 

Just don’t think about it. Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think. 

You kept up this mantra in your head as you hesitantly approached the hero’s back. He had turned to look forward again, so at least his crimson eyes weren’t burning a hole into you as you carefully slid one hand onto his shoulder while you used the other to cradle the food against your stomach. 

You were just debating the best way to finish this embarrassing endeavor when you felt strong hands slide over the backs of your knees and pull you forward, startling a yelp out of you. 

“Jump,” Dynamight grunted, and you only had time to mindlessly obey as he straightened to his full height in one fluid motion. 

“Shit!” you couldn’t help but curse in English, hoping he couldn’t understand you. His hands helped to guide your legs around his waist, and you dug your left hand into his shoulder so you didn’t fall backward or crush the food that was nestled between the hero’s spine and your navel. 

A beat passed in silence as the two of you found your balance again. 

“I-I’m not too heavy, am I?” you murmured into the hero’s blond hair. Your throat felt tight with embarrassment, but when you went to swallow, your mouth was as dry as a desert. 

“Tch.” Dynamight clicked his tongue as he shifted your weight a little, his hands burning the backs of your thighs even through the thick denim of your jeans. “I could carry two of you without breaking a sweat. Don’t call me weak.” 

“I wasn’t!” you rushed to assure him. “I just meant—” 

“I know what you meant, shut up,” the blond cut you off, turning his head a fraction so his red eyes sliced into you. At this distance, his burnt sugar scent was almost overwhelming. “Do you have a good grip on me? And the food?” 

“Y-Yes,” you said as your heart began to pound against your sternum. You hoped he couldn’t feel it. 

“Make sure,” he growled, fingers digging into the backs of your thighs before he suddenly let go. 

A small gasp was ripped from you as you clenched your legs around his waist, and your left arm went from clutching his shoulder to wrapping around his neck. 

“Ack! Don’t choke me!” he huffed as he stretched his throat out of the way. 

Your right hand scrambled down a few inches, and you fisted the front of his hoodie, anchoring yourself across his chest as you sucked in your gut, leaned more into his spine, and tried not to crush the bag of food that was steadily making you sweat. 

“I-Is that okay?” you asked, your voice no more than a timid whisper. 

“Fine,” Dynamight said as he dropped his hands down by his hips, his palms crackling with energy once again. “Don’t fucking let go.” 

“I wo—OHHHH!” Your sentence trailed off into a startled scream as the hero suddenly exploded off the ground. 

His quirk made your ears ring, but you didn’t even have time to process that before you were thirty feet in the air. Every muscle in your body locked up in terror, and you were sure Dynamight was going to have bruises on his ribs from your legs clamping down around him like a vise. The wind tore at your hair and clothes, stinging the exposed skin of your face and neck, and you ducked your head against the hero’s blond hair as you clenched your eyes shut. 

Don’t let go, don’t let go, you chanted in your mind. 

Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over, and you heard Dynamight extinguish his quirk an instant before his boots slammed into concrete. 

The two of you stood there for a moment as you panted against the back of his neck, your hammering heart still lodged in your throat, before the blond patted the side of your thigh. 

“You can get down now,” he said. “But don’t drop the damn food.” 

You peeled open your eyes with a shaky exhale, and you could feel your entire body trembling as you slowly slid down from the hero’s back. The crinkling bag drew your attention, and you had a split-second worry that you had crushed the food in your terror, but a quick inspection showed that while the containers were a little crumpled, no food was leaking out. 

“Come on, I’m hungry,” Dynamight muttered before his boots started to crunch away from you. 

You snapped your head up and blindly followed after the blond, your eyes darting to the ground to make sure you didn’t trip over anything and then up to your surroundings to try and figure out where the hero was leading you. 

The answer, apparently, was to the very edge of the roof, and you wondered if the hero was going to make you hop on the Dynamight Express again, but instead he came to a stop beside a large electrical box. To your shock, he opened a small door on the tall metal rectangle and produced a thick, dark colored blanket, which he then threw down on the roof’s gravel. 

“Sit,” he grunted before he flopped to the ground, sighing as he stretched his legs out in front of him. 

There was about four or five feet between the electrical box and the edge of the roof, but the soles of Dynamight’s boots nearly brushed against the roof’s wall. 

Or they would have, if a three-foot section of the cement wall wasn’t missing right in front of him. The edges of the concrete partition looked suspiciously charred black, and you frowned at the sight. 

“Did you… blast a chunk out of this wall?” you asked as you slowly sank to your knees beside the blond. You were painfully aware of the void of protection in front of you, and you knew you were at least ten to fifteen stories above the street. But at least it wasn’t so cold up here, tucked into this little nook with the six-foot tall hero’s body heat helping to warm the air. 

“It was in the way,” Dynamight sneered, leaning over and snatching the plastic bag from where you had set it between the two of you. “And wipe that look off your face. I’m not gonna push you through the hole, and you’re not gonna fall with me here.” 

He didn’t look at you as he said this, too busy pulling out several food containers and spreading them out on the blanket, but the absolute surety, the confidence, in his voice actually eased some of the tension from your shoulders, and you sighed as you shifted onto your butt and leaned back against the electrical box. 

Now that you were seated in front of the hole, you realized this building gave you the perfect vantage point to the east. Most of the other structures were shorter than the one you currently sat on, so the streets stretched out before you like a map. The night sky was clear above you, devoid of clouds, nothing but a dark purple canvas sprinkled here and there with stars. But the moon was nearly full over your head, and its pale light was just enough to see by. You could see cars several blocks away cruising through the pools of lamplight, people waiting at bus stops or walking down the road to their next destination, and a realization came over you. 

“Oh, I see,” you murmured, still staring out at the view. “You must use this building as a perch during your hero patrols, right? You can see a lot from here.” 

“No shit.” Dynamight rolled his eyes as he opened one of the take-out containers. The smell of a well-made yakisoba hit your nostrils, and you watched as the blond ripped open a pair of chopsticks. He must have felt your gaze, though, because his red eyes snapped up and narrowed on you with a glare. “Quit starin’ at me and eat something. I didn’t go through all this damn trouble for nothing.” 

“R-Right.” You cleared your throat as you glanced between the other take-out boxes. “Was there something for me in particular, or…” 

“Just pick something!” he snapped before he shoved a bite of noodles into his scowling mouth. 

You pursed your lips as you reached for the closest container, flipping up the lid to find nearly a dozen yakitori skewers. Your stomach snarled and cramped as the roasted scent of the chicken filled your nose, and you could feel saliva pooling in your mouth. 

Grease immediately began to stain your fingers as you picked up one of the skewers, but you didn’t even care as you brought the kebab to your lips. You took a tentative bite to find the meat still pleasantly warm, but then a groan rumbled in the back of your throat as the flavor exploded across your tongue. 

“Mmmm, that is so good!” you mumbled around a mouthful as you ravenously tore off another bite. “It’s seasoned perfectly, and I like the bit of spice it has.” 

“Told you I don’t eat shitty food,” the blond scoffed before he reached over and snagged a piece of yakitori for himself. 

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth, but you quickly covered it up by taking another bite of chicken. 

“Thank you for the meal, Dynamight,” you said once you finished the skewer, reaching for one of the other containers. This one turned out to be another plate of yakisoba, and you eagerly pulled it into your lap. 

Silence settled between the two of you for a minute, punctuated by the sounds of you both quietly chewing, before Dynamight broke it again. 

“Katsuki.” 

“Hmm?” you asked around a mouthful of noodles. When you lifted your head, your eyes clashed with glaring red ones barely two feet away, and you swallowed quickly so you wouldn’t choke. “Sorry, what did you say?” 

“My name,” he grunted before ripping into another skewer, white teeth flashing in the pale moonlight. “It’s not Dynamight. It’s Katsuki Bakugo.” 

Another hot flash broke out across your body as his scarlet eyes bored into you, and you dropped your gaze to your lap. The blond was too close, his burnt sugar scent still strong beneath the aroma of food, and your brain struggled to come up with a response. 

“Katsuki Bakugo,” you murmured because you couldn’t help yourself, testing out the syllables on your tongue. 

You thought you saw the hero twitch out of the corner of your eye, but he might have just been taking another bite. 

“Yeah, and you better remember it,” the blond said after a moment, his tone adamant, commanding. 

Like there was any way you could forget his name. Japan’s Number Two Hero wasn’t exactly forgettable. 

You found it a little funny, though, that he was so weird about his own name after refusing to call you anything but “Stitches” so far. 

“I will,” you murmured, darting a glance at Dynamight—Katsuki? No, that felt too familiar. Bakugo, then—to find him still staring at you. 

The blond’s crimson gaze was piercing, pinning you to the spot, and you couldn’t look away. You thought he was going to say something, but his eyes only roamed over your face silently, like he was searching your features for an answer to a question he hadn’t voiced. His scrutiny unnerved you, made you fidget, and you played with your chopsticks to try and quell some of your nervous energy. 

Still, he didn’t say a word, but his red eyes began to narrow bit by bit. 

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore, and you opened your mouth to say something, anything, before he beat you to it. 

“You have a healing quirk.” 

The words hit you like a sledgehammer. 

Your heart slammed to a stop in your chest, and you inhaled so fast it was almost a scream. A million thoughts, excuses, and lies scrambled through your head, but the hero didn’t even give you time to grasp at any of them. 

“Don’t deny it,” he said, face twisting into his usual scowl. “Fuckin’ hate liars. I know you have a healing quirk.” 

The blunt confirmation, after so long worrying, felt almost like a relief, but it was quickly followed by a deluge of dread. 

He knew, he knew, he knew. The truth blared through your head like a siren. There really was no running from it now. 

“Well?” Dynamight—Bakugo—demanded as he glared at you. “Are you going to answer?” 

“You didn’t ask me a question.” The words fell from your mouth without your permission, and you winced as the blond’s expression darkened. 

“Fine,” he growled. “Do you have a healing quirk or not?” 

“…yes.” There was nothing else for you to say, so you just stared at the pro hero as the noose tightened around your neck. 

“I knew it.” A wild smirk stretched across Bakugo’s mouth, triumphant and proud. 

“How?” you couldn’t help but ask as you clenched your hands in your lap, the food long since forgotten. Your stomach was churning itself into knots anyway, but a morbid part of you just had to know what was the final nail in the coffin that had sealed your fate. 

“How what? Did I figure it out?” the blond asked as he lazily picked up another skewer and took a bite, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he didn’t hold your whole world in the palm of his calloused hand. “Because I’m not a blind idiot.” 

“I’m serious,” you said with a frown, digging your nails into your palms. 

“So am I,” Bakugo scoffed, and his red eyes found yours again. “If you’re going to lie, at least do it right. That night in your apartment, you said I wasn’t really hurt, didn’t bleed that much, but your hands and my clothes were soaked with it. Way too much for the stupid paper cuts or whatever you blamed it on. The burns on my left arm were better off than they should have been, too, but I knew you were lying before I even noticed any of that shit. I knew the second you opened your mouth.” 

You cringed with guilt, dropping your gaze to your fidgeting fingers. So, all your lies had been futile from the start. “Was it something in my tone or…?” 

“Well, stuttering over your words with your guilty ass face didn’t do you any favors, but no,” the blond grunted. “It wasn’t your tone, it was…” 

Here, the pro hero trailed off, and he was quiet for so long that you chanced a glance at him. 

Bakugo was frowning off into the distance, staring out over the city without seeing. You could tell he was struggling with something, and since you were obviously a masochist, you pressed him about it. 

“It was…?” you led and then had to stifle a gasp as the blond snapped his head around to glare at you. 

“You can’t say shit about this,” he snarled and bared his teeth like a cornered animal, and you distantly noted that his canines were more pointed and pronounced than what was usual. Then his next words stabbed into you, sharp and serrated, and dragged you back to the conversation. “Do you hear me, Stitches? You don’t say shit to anyone. If you do, I’ll kill you.” 

You blanched at the seriousness of his tone, the sharpness of his eyes, and a nervous laugh was startled out of you. 

“I’m obviously not in a position to say anything against you, Dyna—er, Bakugo,” you said, adding the “-sama” honorific after his name as a show of deference. “You could have me arrested or even deported for using my quirk on you without permission or a license.” 

“Damn right I could,” he huffed as he narrowed his eyes at you, but some of the tension and anger left the lines of his face. “But I’m not gonna do any of that shit because I need—you are going to help me.” 

“Help you?” you echoed in an incredulous tone. “What could I possibly help you with?” 

Bakugo glared at you as the muscle in his jaw worked, like he was chewing over his words, before he finally spat them out. 

“My ears. The reason I knew you were lying immediately was because I could hear you.” 

Your frown deepened as you processed his words. “You remember losing your hearing?” 

“Remember it?” The blond scowled at you. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I remember being fuckin’ deaf!” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, waving your hands in front of you. “I just—right after you crashed through my window, you woke up for a second, but you were disoriented. I was trying to tell you that you beat the villain before I saw the blood coming out of your ears and realized you must have blown your eardrums. Then you passed out, and when you woke up again, a-after I… healed you, you asked about the villain a second time, so I just assumed you didn’t remember waking up the first time.” 

Bakugo frowned at you, pale eyebrows furrowing over crimson eyes. “I woke up more than once? Yeah, I don’t remember that shit.” 

“Wait…” You blinked and pursed your lips as you tried to understand what he was saying. “If you don’t remember that, how do you remember losing your hearing?” 

“Because my hearing was shot to shit before I even ran into that damn villain,” Bakugo growled, and his face tightened again as he turned away from you. “Couldn’t even hear my quirk activate anymore.” 

He held up his hand to demonstrate, and flashes of light crackled to life in his palm like mini fireworks. The hero’s expression grew strange as he stared at the visual manifestation of his quirk, but then he clenched his fist and extinguished the sparks. 

Meanwhile, you felt your jaw gape open as your eyes widened. “You… how long has your hearing been in decline?” 

The blond ground his jaw so hard you could hear the scrape of his teeth, and he glared off into the middle distance for so long that you just assumed he wasn’t going to answer you. 

Then… 

“Fuckin’ years, I dunno,” he muttered as he pulled one of his long legs up, balancing his forearm against his knee and pressing his mouth into the back of his wrist. “Didn’t notice it at first, but it probably started at UA, once I was able to use my quirk more regularly.” 

Ohhh, of course. Your eyes dropped to the clenched fist in his lap, and you remembered the boom that made your ears ring as the hero flew you both up here. It had been so loud, and to think of experiencing that multiple times a day, at close range, for years apparently since you knew UA was a famous high school here in Japan… 

“Did you see a doctor?” You frowned, glancing up at the blond as his gaze snapped back to yours. 

“Tch, doctors,” Bakugo sneered, disgust glinting in his crimson eyes. “Fuckin’ useless pieces of shit. I left a good-for-nothing white coat’s office the afternoon I ran into that asphalt villain. Idiot doctor said most of my hearing was just gone, I was going to lose the rest, and there was shit all he could do. Then, few hours later, you patched me up in fuckin’ seconds, so I know that bastard was full of shit.” 

All you could do was blink rapidly at the pro hero as you tried to process all this information. Japan’s Number Two Hero had been going deaf for years, and no one had noticed? You knew that would have definitely made the news, let alone the gossip magazines. What’s more, a doctor said his hearing was a lost cause, and yet… 

“How well can you hear now?” you asked, curiosity getting the best of you. You hadn’t even intended to heal his ears that night, it had just been a side effect of you dumping your energy into his body in order to keep him breathing. 

“Dunno, haven’t exactly done a hearing test,” the blond scoffed and rolled his eyes. “But I can hear you just fine, my phone, too, and my quirk. I’d say that’s good enough.” 

You pursed your lips in thought, studying the hero like he’d been studying you all night, and then you remembered what had started this whole conversation. 

“Okay…” you said slowly. “Well, if you’re hearing is… fine now, what am I supposed to help you with?” 

“Keeping it that way, obviously.” He glared at you. “You’re gonna be stuck at the agency for the next few weeks anyway, so you need to make sure my ears stay working.” 

You gaped at the pro-hero, wondering if you were suddenly losing your hearing. 

“M-Me?” you stammered as your heart crawled up your throat. “B-But I… I’m not a doctor.” 

“No shit,” he said, apparently a favorite phrase of his, and he looked at you like you were a particularly dumb child. “I don’t need a doctor, I told you they’re fuckin’ useless. I just need your quirk.” 

“But…” you trailed off in disbelief. Out of all the outcomes you’d envisioned for this night, this had never even crossed your mind as anything in the realm of possibility. “I’m… not a hero. I don’t have a license to use my quirk.” 

Bakugo stared at you in silence for an endless moment before his upper lip curled into a snarl. 

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” he hissed. “I know all that!” 

“W-Well, I don’t know what you want then!” you said, your voice rising in pitch and volume to match his. 

The echoes of your words ricocheted around you before they faded off into the night, and the blond clenched his jaw as he glared at you. 

“I want you to use your quirk anyway,” he said, the low growl of his tone vibrating through you. You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off mid inhale. “And don’t start bitching about rules. You’ve been using your quirk illegally already. That kid and his old hag of a grandma are patients of yours, aren’t they?” 

Your jaw snapped closed with an audible click, and a smirk bloomed across the blond’s pale lips. 

“Hah,” he snorted. “Knew it.” 

“I didn’t say anything,” you gritted out, and your breathing grew shallow. 

“You didn’t have to,” he said, his smirk taking on a taunting edge. “You really gotta work on your poker face, Stitches.” 

Your vision started to tunnel, interspersed with flashes of Tadashi and Ayano’s faces. “The Kojimas have nothing to do—” 

“Oh, calm the fuck down,” he cut you off as he rolled his eyes again. “I’m not gonna turn a grandma and a kid into the cops. Especially not for doing the same shit we’re going to do.” 

A knot of tension unraveled beside your heart, but your insides still felt more tangled up than a yarn ball being batted around by a crazed kitten. 

“Thank you,” you murmured with a sigh, dropping your eyes to where your fingers were picking at the frayed hem of your sweater. 

“I don’t need your gratitude,” he scoffed. “I just need—” 

“My quirk.” You were the one to cut him off this time, and you lifted your gaze to his again. 

“Yeah,” he said as he narrowed those scarlet eyes at you like a predator zeroing in on its prey. “So, is that your way of saying you’ll do it?” 

You bit your lip as you considered your options, but really, you didn’t have any. Dynamight was a famous, rich pro hero with all the leverage. He could ruin your life… but he wasn’t. He was instead providing a trade. 

His silence for your quirk. 

The Kojimas flashed through your mind again, as did your other “patients,” as the blond called them. You thought of your parents, too, and your grandparents. If you agreed to the hero’s proposition, you wouldn’t have to return to America as a failure, and after a few weeks, you could reopen your family’s legacy shop. 

And, in the meantime, you still got to use your quirk. You could heal, actually be useful. Even more than that, Japan’s Number Two Hero was relying on you. 

You didn’t know if you were up to the task, having never used your quirk beyond minor instances that were usually days or weeks in between each other. 

But… 

“Yes,” you finally said as you looked up into Katsuki Bakugo’s face. “I’ll help you.” 

You just hoped you didn’t hang yourself in the process.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

YOUR EMPLOYEES AND INVESTORS WILL CONSTANTLY BE ASKING ARE WE THERE YET

I think I've figured out what's going on. After the first 10 or so we learned to treat deals as background processes that we should ignore till they terminated.1 Don't Get Your Hopes Up. Something hacked together means something that barely solves the problem, the harder it is to bait the hook with prestige. And that is almost certainly mistaken. So one thing that falls just short of the standard, I think, should be the highest goal for the marginal. Big companies think the function of office space is to express rank. As big companies' oligopolies became less secure, they were willing to pay a premium for labor. You can see it in old photos. If you're friends with a lot of the worst kinds of projects are the death of a thousand cuts. And what's especially dangerous is that many happen at your computer.

And the microcomputer business ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. In 1450 it was filled with the kind of turbulent and ambitious people you find now in America. You have to like what they do there than how much they can get the most done. That's not what makes startups worth the trouble. Design This kind of metric would allow us to compare different languages, but that if someone wanted to design a language explicitly to disprove this hyphothesis, they could probably do it. This technique can be generalized to: What's the best thing you could be doing, not just what you can see the results in any town in America. With this amount of money can change a startup's funding situation completely. There I found a copy of The Atlantic. Whereas it's easy to get sucked into working longer than you expected at the money job.2 That's ok. I think you have to do all three. But more importantly, you'll get into the habit of doing things well.

But what if the person in the next 40 years will bring us some wonderful things.3 They all know about the VCs who rejected Google. The writing of essays used to be.4 You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.5 He improvises: if someone appears in front of him, he runs around them; if someone tries to grab him, he spins out of their grip; he'll even run in the wrong place, anything might happen. The people who've worked for a few months I realized that what I'd been unconsciously hoping to find there was back in the place I'd just left. It was supposed to be something else, they ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. By 2012 that number was 18 years. The first thing you need is to be willing to look like a fool.6 Google they have a fair amount of data to go on. John Malkovich where the nerdy hero encounters a very attractive, sophisticated woman.

Many of the big companies were roll-ups that didn't have clear founders.7 Empirically, the way to the bed and breakfast, and other similar classes of accommodations, you get to hit a few difficult problems over the net at someone, you learn pretty quickly how hard they hit them anyway. Inexperienced founders make the same mistake as the people who list at ABNB, they list elsewhere too I am not negative on this one was the only way to get lots of referrals is to invest in students, not professors. It will actually become a reasonable strategy or a more reasonable strategy to suspect everything new.8 Never say we're passionate or our product is great. Whereas undergraduate admissions seem to be disappointments early on, when they're just a couple guys in an apartment. Programmers at Yahoo wouldn't have asked that.9 Incidentally, this scale might be helpful in deciding what to study in college. VCs think they're playing a zero sum game.

I spend most of my time writing essays lately. Almost everyone's initial plan is broken. If smaller source code is the purpose of comparing languages, because they come closest of any group I know to embodying it. Distracting is, similarly, desirable at the wrong time. But if we make kids work on dull stuff now is so they can get away with atrocious customer service. In fact, here there was a kid playing basketball? Of course, figuring out what you like.

Go out of your way to bring it up e. The industry term here is conversion. Try to keep the sense of wonder you had about programming at age 14. At least if you start a startup, people treat you as if you're unemployed.10 But hacking is like writing. Even with us working to make things happen the way they used to, they were moving to a cheaper apartment. It causes you to work not on what you like, but is disastrously lacking in others. I do in the rest of the world. Their defining quality is probably that they really love to program.

I could only figure out what to do, there's a natural tendency to stop looking.11 Economies of scale ruled the day.12 One is that this is simply the founders' living expenses.13 I need to transfer a file or edit a web page, and I think I know what is meant by readability, and I think they're onto something. Multiply this times several hundred, and I get an uneasy feeling when I look at my bookshelves. You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.14 Everyday life gives you no practice in this. Startups grow up around universities because universities bring together promising young people and make them work on anything they don't want to want, we consider technological progress good.

Notes

Samuel Johnson said no man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money. Which is precisely my point. If they were regarded as 'just' even after the egalitarian pressures of World War II the tax codes were so new that the guys running Digg are especially sneaky, but except for money. They don't know enough about the new top story.

The image shows us, they tended to make money. But we invest in the Bible is Pride goeth before destruction, and one of the fake leading the fake leading the fake. In No Logo, Naomi Klein says that 15-20% of the aircraft is.

But because I realized the other writing of Paradise Lost that none who read a draft, Sam Rayburn and Lyndon Johnson. If they agreed among themselves never to do due diligence for an investor? The best technique I've found for dealing with the other.

I ordered a large number of startups as they do for a public event, you can ignore. If you want to help the company, and a few of the Facebook that might produce the next Apple, maybe the corp dev is to show growth graphs at either stage, investors decide whether to go to die.

If you walk into a big company CEOs in 2002 was 3.

Or rather, where w is will and d discipline. But that turned out the existing shareholders, including that Florence was then the richest country in the sense of mission.

In Shakespeare's own time, because they can't afford to. The company may not be able to raise their kids in a company in Germany. When we got to see the apples, they said, and why it's next to impossible to write an essay about it wrong. That will in many cases be an open booth.

I'm not saying you should probably be worth trying to tell them exactly what constitutes research in the early 90s when they say they bear no blame for any particular truths you'll learn. As Jeremy Siegel points out that there is undeniably a grim satisfaction in hunting down certain sorts of bugs. Did you know about it as if you'd invested at a discount of 30% means when it was actually a great programmer doesn't merely do the right direction to be is represented by Milton.

But a lot of the next round. It's hard to say exactly what your body is telling you. In Russia they just kill you, they tend to be very unhealthy. One thing that drives most people realize, because you have two choices, choose the harder.

Though Balzac made a lot of classic abstract expressionism is doodling of this essay talks about programmers, but one by one they die and their houses are transformed by developers into McMansions and sold to VPs of Bus Dev. Or rather, where it sometimes causes investors to act. Eric Raymond says the best hackers want to trick admissions officers. And no, unfortunately, I mean efforts to protect widows and orphans from crooked investment schemes; people with a truly feudal economy, you better be sure you do in proper essays.

The top VCs thus have a better education. Or a phone, IM, email, Web, games, books, newspapers, or some vague thing like that. You need to fix. But the question is not much to maintain their percentage.

Kant. Loosely speaking. The real decline seems to them to lose elections. Some types of startups where the recipe is to say incendiary things, they can grow the acquisition offers most successful founders still get rich simply by being energetic and unscrupulous, but they get for free.

World War II to the frightening lies told by older siblings. That's one of the most general truths. As we walked in, we found they used it to get into that because a unless your last funding round.

But this seems an odd idea.

Thanks to Jessica Livingston, Shiro Kawai, Garry Tan, Chris Small, and Nikhil Nirmel for sharing their expertise on this topic.

[usergreenpixel]

JACOBIN FICTION CONVENTION MEETING 23: LES ENFANTS DE LA LIBERTÉ (1989)

1. The Introduction

Hey, Citizens! Welcome to the Jacobin Fiction Convention. Please, take your seats and enjoy yourselves.

Okay, so... cartoons. I already reviewed anime twice, so may as well do reviews of Western animation series related to Frev. It’s also media, after all!

This cartoon came up during the hours I spent browsing the French Wikipedia for media related to Frev and it’s not every day we have an opportunity to review cartoons, so I became interested right away, especially since I love me a good cartoon.

Is this one good though? Well, let’s find out!

Fort those who are interested, the cartoon is on YouTube but the quality isn’t the best and half of episode 6 is missing for some reason... but oh well.

2. The Summary

Antoine Beauvisage is a commoner, but his best friends are the children of a noble - Charlotte and Louis.

Said noble, Count André de Vernisac, went missing in America and his children are left in the care of his wicked cousin, Faustine.

Since Faustine is a tyrant and wants the Count’s wealth for herself, the three children swear to bring her to justice and form a pact that they won’t stop until they achieve that goal.

From that point on, they call themselves The Children of Liberty and their adventures begin.

3. The Story

The story is simple so I assume that the cartoon is for a really young audience but the Kidd’s adventures were still quite enjoyable (if a bit predictable) in my opinion. Maybe it’s my inner kid talking though.

The pacing is pretty reasonable. There are only 8 episodes so the story doesn’t drag on and on and gets straight to the point. Kudos for that!

I also like the fact that we have nobles in support of Frev (the Count and his children), a noble and a commoner who are against it (Faustine and her servant) and commoners who are revolutionaries. It’s already more complex than typical children’s media but also accurate, as the opinions on the Revolution did differ from person to person and there were people for and against it in each social class.

The fact that the main characters have different social backgrounds is a pretty cool narrative choice as well, even though in real life most nobles probably wouldn’t allow interclass friendship, but here it makes sense for the Count’s character to allow it, as he basically treats Antoine as part of the family and is open-minded.

The friendship the kids have is pretty heartwarming and they have pretty good chemistry as a friend group, if you ask me.

For a cartoon that’s supposed to be simple, the story is pretty good.

4. The Characters

Most of the focus is on Antoine, and I actually like him. He is kind, brave and resourceful, but not devoid of moments where he shows vulnerability, which makes him feel more realistic.

Charlotte, in a refreshing turn of events, is no helpless ingenue! Yay!

Louis is a troublemaker, but he is also brave and capable of saving the day when the situation calls for it.

Faustine and her sidekick are pretty much stereotypical evil bad guys but it’s still satisfying when they inevitably lose and Faustine does have some charisma.

Marine, Camille and Basile (the allies the characters meet) are kind and pretty badass.

All in all, the characters are pretty simple but most are endearing so I can’t complain about it too much.

As for historical figures, we only have a cameo from Camille Desmoulins so there’s nothing to discuss here.

5. The Setting

I’m going to assume that the show’s budget was not that big, because the backgrounds are drawn in a minimalistic way that still has charm to it. The costumes aren’t always entirely accurate though, so keep that in mind.

6. The Voice Acting

Pretty solid, but the audio quality isn’t the best.

7. The Music

Pretty good. I like the tidbit where the characters sing “Ça Ira” when they oust Faustine. It’s pretty funny in context.

8. The Conclusion

Long story short, although it’s a simple cartoon for children, you’re still welcome to check it out, if only due to the fact that we don’t get cartoons made about Frev all that often. It might be boring and predictable for some people, but has some charm in its simplicity regardless.

But, with that, let us conclude the meeting of the Jacobin Fiction Convention. Stay tuned for updates and stay safe! More reviews are coming soon.

Love,

- Citizen Green Pixel

[miskatonique]

HERBERT WEST CHEAT SHEET !

since my muses are not super well known in the contemporary rpc ( and i’m too lazy to do a full about page at this very moment ) i decided to put together little posts for them that give their general backgrounds, vibes, and plot possibilities !

this is a mix of canon and headcanon, and these are subject to change / adapt as i get more used to writing the characters

BACKGROUND:

Films: Re-Animator 1985, Bride of Re-Animator 1990, Beyond Re-Animator 2003

We don’t talk about Beyond Re-Animator......

Dr. Herbert West, 24 in the first movie, 27 in the second movie, idk like 40 in the third movie. Mad scientist to the MAX. In the novelization Herbert is an orphan who gets passed around in foster homes before eventually going to undergrad at NYU and pursuing his theory about the re-animation of dead tissue. Mostly people think he’s sort of crazy until one of his articles catches the eye of Dr. Hans Gruber at a university in Switzerland, and he invites Herbert to come work alongside him. Herbert eventually grows to respect Gruber as both a mentor and father-figure.

Herbert and Gruber develop a reagent that affects re-animation in dead animal tissue but they know that for their results to be taken seriously they need to do a human trial. Dr. Gruber volunteers but the dosage of the reagent is too large, and though it brings Gruber back to life it quickly overwhelms his system and he dies again. Herbert is taken into psychiatric custody in Switzerland but is eventually released.

Herbert returns to America and specifically sets his sights on Miskatonic Medical School in Arkham, Massachusetts because one of the staff, Dr. Carl Hill, used to work with Gruber years ago, and even went on to plagiarize some of Gruber’s work and publish it in America. Herbert makes it his secondary goal to absolutely terrorize Dr. Hill, and because he’s a chaotic gremlin in human form he’s very good at it.

Herbert continues working on perfecting the reagent, rooming with Dan Cain and eventually pulling Dan into the experiments as well when Dan’s cat dies and Herbert is able to prove his research by reanimating it. Herbert isn’t perturbed when Dan’s talk with Dean Halsey goes south, and just digs his heels in and insists that the only way to truly prove that the reagent works is to reanimate a human cadaver.

Results are just as bad as you’d expect. Sure, the cadaver reanimates but it also wrecks the morgue and kills Dean Halsey. RIP. Herbert insists that they reanimate him and the dean comes back less like himself and more animalistic, trying to kill both Herbert and Dan before his daughter Meg shows up and stops him. Despite it all, Herbert manages to wriggle his and Dan out of any suspicion from the police but Dr. Hill takes an interest in Herbert’s work once he does exploratory surgery of Dean Halsey and finds out he’s technically dead.

Dr. Hill confronts Herbert in his laboratory and threatens to steal Herbert’s work and take it for his own, offering Herbert the meager honour of being his assistant. Herbert promptly murders Hill via decapitation but decides not to let his fresh corpse go to waste and reanimates both Hill’s head and his body, which come back to life and knock Herbert out and steal all of his work.

Yada yada, Herbert gets Dan to help him go after Hill, the big climax happens. Herbert is able to prove his theory about overdose by shooting up Dr. Hill’s headless body with a bunch of reagent, which backfires and Herbert is left for dead all tangled up in Hill’s intestines, but not after he ensures that his research is safe with Dan.

They never explain how Herbert survives the first movie but he sure is alive in the second movie! It’s roughly 3ish years after the first film, so he’s got his doctorate now and he’s drug Dan all the way to Peru so they can be volunteer medics in a civil war. This obviously gives Herbert an unprecedented access to fresh bodies for his experiments.

Eventually he and Dan head back to Miskatonic Hospital, where they’re able to get jobs and a creepy cute little house that used to be a mortuary so they can continue the work. Herbert is now obsessed with the reanimation of separate parts and convinces Dan to help him build an entirely new life from parts. Dan’s not on board until Herbert shows him Megan Halsey’s heart and promises that they’ll build the body around it.

Dr. Hill’s head also somehow survived the first movie and it tries to terrorize Herbert, along with a cop who’s investigating Herbert for stealing corpses. Herbert eventually kills and reanimates the cop, and then gets into even more trouble when all of the other strange creatures he’s been reanimating start coming after him because they’re being mind controlled by Dr. Hill’s nasty head ( don’t ask me okay, this script was written in literally 6 weeks it makes no sense )

Anyway Herbert and Dan successfully bring their creation to life right before getting attacked by Dr. Hill and his army of weirdos, all while Dan is having a mental breakdown because he thinks the creation is his dead girlfriend Meg. In the chaos Dan and the creation escape separately while Herbert and Hill and co. get trapped under buried rubble and are left for dead ( AGAIN ).

But surprise! Herbert isn’t dead! We don’t know how he survived but we do know that at some point in time Dan turned over evidence to the authorities that led to Herbert’s arrest and imprisonment. The third movie picks up with Herbert who’s been in prison for 13 years and the dumbass new hospital doctor is a fanboy of Herbert and brings in some of his reagent. Herbert basically starts a prison riot, chaos ensues, this movie is Not Good, but the important thing is that Herbert escapes prison with his work and gets to walk off free and definitely alive into the night <3

VIBES / PERSONALITY:

His work is EVERYTHING to him -- there have been multiple times where Herbert has put his work above his own bodily safety or chance of survival, and I guarantee he would do it again, too. Herbert is mostly focused on being able to do the impossible simply because it’s “impossible.” He’s able to convince Dan to help him because he reasons the practical applications of his reagent, like saving lives by aiding in surgeries or helping with amputations, but at the end of the day Herbert is only concerned with discovery, acclaim, and giving classical science a big ‘ole middle finger.

He can be incredibly manipulative when looking for a specific action or behavior in the people close to him. This mostly is seen in how he treats Dan, often reeling him back in with promise of how much good their work will do in the world when Dan starts to get squeamish. Herbert is also really good at finding the sorest spots in someone and pressing on them, but usually only does this when he wants to prove a point or if he really hates someone.

He gains a lot of power by seeming like the more “level-headed” person in an altercation, but he can get extremely excitable or aggressive, especially when something goes well with his research or if it’s being threatened.

He’s genuinely a good doctor, doesn’t freak out under pressure, has neutral-good bedside manner, is very decisive and isn’t afraid to make difficult decisions when it comes to a patient’s life. However, Herbert considers himself a scientist first and a doctor second. The work on reanimation will always come before anything else.

He’s a HUGE fucking nerd, he loves making puns or little zingers whenever he can fit them into a conversation. He also likes playing practical jokes, though he doesn’t do it often. He’s got a great evil giggle.

Oh he’s terrible at taking care of himself. There’s a deleted scene from the first movie where Herbert is shown to be injecting himself with a weakened version of the reanimating reagent because it helps keep his brain sharp and makes it to where he doesn’t have to sleep. What a NUT. I think he probably weans off this habit, by force or choice. His sleeping and eating habits are still pretty bad, though. Definitely the kind of person who doesn’t eat/sleep/rest unless he’s genuinely about to collapse because of it.

Oh he’s also sooooooooooo gay. gay gay gay homo sexual.

There are very few people he outright respects or enjoys spending time around, and with everyone else he is absolutely so bitchy and rude. He doesn’t give a single shit about being polite. Also ACAB.

PLOT POSSIBILITIES:

Got any canonically dead muses? Want them to be alive again? Herbert can help with that! He’ll definitely want to make sure they stick around and observe them to see why the reagent worked so well, maybe do some extra tests, so he can also double as a really annoying, creepy roommate. Score!

Med student muses? I have a new classmate for you

Ever wondered what your muse would do if they saw someone graverobbing, or smuggling body parts into their house in the middle of the night? Do they stop him? Ask questions? Offer to help? Now’s the chance to find out!

He could always use a new assistant since Dan keeps abandoning him after every movie, jfc, loyalty is so hard to find these days

Meet-cute where one of his reanimated creations tries to murder you and he saves you from it <3

[nadiaportia]

Ximena Rubalcaba

art by magician-of-the-lantern

The disgraced exile with a past she’d rather keep hidden.

Other bios: Sayelle | Deirdra | Heloisa | Cibela

Full name: Ximena María Magdalena de Rubalcaba y Saavedra

Meaning of name: 

Ximena: Basque variant of Simone, meaning “one who has heard”

María Magdalena: Spanish variant of Mary Magdalene, derived of “of Magdala”, a village whose name means “tower” in Old Hebrew

Family: 

Heloisa and Cibela de Rubalcaba: Ximena’s elder sisters, Heloisa by 6 and Cibela by 12 years. In her youth and early adulthood, due to being closer in age she spent more time with Heloisa than with Cibela, to whom she did look up though as a role model as well as Cibela being more introverted like her in contrast to the very extroverted Heloisa. Cibela was mostly absent during her childhood, whereas she and Heloisa spent most of their free time, and tutor-free time together.

Marisol de Rubalcaba (deceased): Her mother and the former Marquesa de Rubalcaba. Having immense favouritism for her firstborn, Marisol was rather distant towards her younger daughters but would try to be an affectionate mother towards them.

Valentín Saavedra (deceased): Ximena’s late father and a sea-faring merchant prince from the higher Cartagense bourgeoisie. Like his wife, Valentín favored his eldest daughter yet tried to encourage all of his daughters’ ambitions and work. Ximena is said to be similar to him in terms of personality.

Esmerelda de Rubalcaba: The matriarch in-all-but-name of the Rubalcaba family, Marisol’s older sister and Ximena’s aunt. Esmerelda is arguably the most central maternal figure in her life, even more than her own mother, and her primary tutor. She was the one who recognized Ximena’s affinity for magic and gave her vital support when she entered the Magician’s Guild.

Agustín de Rubalcaba: Esmerelda’s only son and Ximena’s cousin. A diplomat that wasn’t under his mother’s wing unlike his cousins, he is very affectionate towards Ximena and fulfills the role of an older brother for her as well as being her only connection to her family after her exile.

Segismundo: Ximena’s familiar whom she found in the rainforests of Northern Calpacia sometime after her exile as a hatchling and nursed him back to health. Their connection is deep and he is both trusting and protective of her.

Others: Constanza de Rubalcaba (maternal grand-mother, deceased), Cristobal de Rubalcaba (maternal uncle, deceased), Máximo de Otxoa (maternal grand-father, deceased), Jaime Saavedra (paternal uncle), Genoveva Saavedra (paternal aunt), Dulcinea Saavedra (paternal grand-mother, deceased), Leonardo Buendía (paternal grand-father), Catalina Saavedra (paternal grand-aunt), Aníbal Heßling de Cordovero (brother-in-law)

Nicknames: Xime (used by both friends and lovers), Ximenita (used by family, especially since she is the youngest among her generation), Marilena (exclusively used by her mother and her aunt)

Favourite meal: Tamales de pollo

Favourite drink: Cartagense liquor

Favourite flower: White Plumeria

Favourite color: Cerulean

Birthday: 20th of November

Age: 37 during the events of the game

Zodiac: Scorpio

MBTI: INTP

Patron Arcana: Death and the King of Cups

Upright: Death reaps that which has run its course, allowing new life to grow in the space left behind.

Reversed: Death turns his back on his duty, allowing things to fester and rot in his negligence.

Upright: The King of Cups is generous and compassionate, yet never allows his emotions to overwhelm his sense.

Reversed:  The King of Cups manipulates the emotions of others callously, twisting them to fit his own agenda.

Gender: Cis female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Height: 1,65 m // 5′4″

Appearance:

Ximena is of rather slender build. Her skin is medium brown with a warm undertone and she has a round face with a rounded chin. She has a beauty mark underneath the outer corner of her left eye and an upturned nose with a low bridge. Her eyes are a color similar to dark honey and she has full lips. Her eyebrows are thick and dark, groomed but not thinned, and she has bags underneath her eyes. Her black hair is long and curly with the occasional grey hair, especially near her temples. 

She usually wears golden hoop earrings and several golden rings on her fingers. She wears a bit of eyeliner and darkened lipstick.

She gives off the impression of being rather serene and after her exile purposely tries to change the way she spoke and held herself in order to appear less like an aristocrat and more like a commoner.

Visual Inspirations: Tessa Thompson and America Ferrera

Languages spoken: Calpacian, Prakran, Firenti, Karnasso, Galbradan, Hjallen, Nopali, Nevivish, Venterran, Oriolà, Zadithi and the Common Tongue

Magical abilities:

due to the Cartagense Magician’s Guild being rather pragmatic, she is not as versatile in her skills but honed those that she is good at so well that it makes her a master in the area

high intuition and good knowledge of people, to the point that she can feel when someone is lying to her

very perceptive and aware of her surroundings

fire-based offensive magic; used to replace her profound lack of physical combat skills

Love interests:

Out of the Main 6, while I mostly ship her with Lucio (since I am rewriting his route with her as the primary main character) and Asra (her ex), her dynamics with Nadia and Portia could leave the possibility for romance open.

Isidora: An OC of mine who was once very close friends with Xime as well as colleagues on whom she had eventually not unrequited feelings.

In general, like with most of my characters; if they’re compatible sexuality- as well as personality-wise, feel free to ship them with your OCs or MCs! Hit me up with a message and we can discuss the details! 

Backstory: 

Born into the influential aristocratic Rubalcaba family based in Cartagenth, the capital of the Calpacian Empire in the West, Ximena received an extensive education and since she had the most affinity to magic within her family, a vast tutoring in magic while her sisters were put on other carreer tracks. The Rubalcabas have had a presence ever since the founding of Cartagenth thanks to Fairuza, one of the city’s original founders, and then with Xochitl I., who was rumored to be the primary force behind the union of various kingdoms into what became Calpacia. They have centuries long history of being close to Calpacia’s sovereign, the Zaan, and involvement in politics, the military and on very rare occasions the Magician’s Guild of Cartagenth, where Ximena was meant to eventually become Head of the Guild and a vital instrument in the plans her aunt Esmerelda had for her, her sisters and the fate of all of Calpacia.

Mostly due to their riches, privilege and upbringing, the climate in Ximena’s family was a rather toxic one, with a centuries-old legacy hanging over them like a Damocles sword and envy, entitlement, jealously, sabotage and power struggles running rampant among them. Esmerelda’s desire to cement her family’s position and ensure their survival in the cut-throat environment in the Cartagense court as well as wanting to function as the driving force behind the pillars of powers saw her mercilessly using her family and to see them as little more than pawns to be utilized to achieve the desired goal. 

Being maneuvered like a puppet made Ximena resent her family; her sisters for refusing to lean against it or even relishing in it, her parents for tolerating this and her aunt for being a manipulative force of nature. The straw that broke the camel’s back occurred weeks before her coronation as Head of the Guild where a vision came to her during a reading and showed how she would use her magic and that of the Guild to help in fighting a total war against everyone who refused to kneel to Cartagense’s power, resulting in the deaths of countless people - and herself as one of those who were supposed to carry on this blood-stained legacy. The refusal to partake in such future atrocities and the secret reveal of plans by the War Council to actually provoke a conflict and throw the country into total warfare caused Ximena to have her status as noblewoman taken from her and be banished from Cartagenth… or clean up her act, beg for forgiveness and mercy from her family and have the chance to correct her mistakes. That choice presented by her aunt in a final confrontation was refused and so Ximena, once a lady, now a nobody, fled Cartagenth.

Having to pretend to be a commoner was difficult at first but soon became a necessity, as well as having to adopt a different identity to make it beyond the Calpacian borders. Meeting her familiar and having someone in whom to confide absolutely everything was a much needed outlet for her, and some years her only constant companions were Segismundo, for whom she would’ve laid down her life, and the fear of being discovered by Calpacian spies even outside of the empire. She met Asra when contemplating to escape to Hjalle and from there on to the eastern countries beyond Nevivon and continue to live her life in anonymity, but decided to return with him to Vesuvia, a city of which she knew Calpacia fostered no diplomatic relations with. Her relationship with Asra at some point transcended mere friendship but even when that ended, they always remained amicable with each other and arguably the most important person in each other’s lives. The building in which Asra and she eventually opened as their ship was a gift from Agustín who was the only person from her old life Ximena ever contacted through magical and untraceable means. In Vesuvia, she also met magician and professional medium Sayelle bint Zahir from the city state of Bizatena at the Eastern Coast, and another exile from their respective home country, Deirdra Margalit of Calpacia’s neighboring kingdom Oriol.

She died from the Red Plague at the age of 34 while trying help Julian, with whom she had common friends, to find a cure for the illness that had already claimed thousands within the city. The efforts of those close to her did little in preventing her passing, and yet she woke up a year later with no memory of her previous life, her friends and the bond to her familiar being severed beyond repair.

More art:

feat. Heloisa by @missrabbitart​ | full post

feat. Lucio by @cherrygirl666​ | full post including the uncut nsfw version

[tsukikento]

Empathetic Ch. 2

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Summary: After your mom, the number 1 hero in America, gets offered a teaching position at U.A., you two pack up your things and head to Musutafu, Japan to start a new life. Pressure for you in America was at an all-time high, and now you're in Japan, where almost no one knows you, or your family's past.

This tale starts on your first day of class where your new teacher decides the best way for you to fit in is to fight against the strongest person in your class: Bakugou Katsuki.

Warnings/Genre: This piece will feature some angst and reference to an abusive parent, if you are ever worried about other tw’s feel free to send me an ask and I will let you know. There will also be fluff, slight angst, pining, and slowburn

A/N: This is also posted on ao3 under @allie_win. I’m transferring it over here, pls let me know if you like it! I love your comments! Just a note that any italics means thoughts.

(series masterlist)

~~

Aizawa-sensei had the class rearrange their desks to fit you into the equation. The rows were now 6 by 3, with 3 additional people sitting in their own 4th row. You felt bad that everyone had to move slightly to only accommodate you, but no one seemed too upset about it after seeing how well you fought today. You now sat by Iida, Kirishima, and Tsu who all assured you that no one was upset at moving seats. In fact, they all seemed happy to be able to sit by you.

Most of the class went by smoothly. You met a few other teachers, Present Mic and Midnight, who both greeted you excitedly. Everything ran smoothly, the class primarily focusing on textbook related terms like the police codes you might hear on the radio.

By the time lunch rolled around, Ashido had already invited you to sit with her and Hagakure during the lunch period. You happily accepted the offer and followed them to Lunch Rush Cafeteria.

“We don’t always sit together during lunch because sometimes Mina sits with Kirishima, I sit with Ojiro, or we both sit with the girls, but we wanted to make sure you were around good people at lunch today!” Toru explained as she grabbed food for lunch.

“And we assumed you didn’t really want to be around a bunch of people,” Ashido added as she grabbed a small slice of cake for dessert.

You nodded in appreciation and mumbled a small, “Thank you.”

They took you to a small table that could only fit the 3 of you and began giving you the run-down on everyone in the class.

“This is important information!” Ashido started. She shoved some rice into her mouth before pointing over at the purple-haired boy from before. You looked at him and then back at Ashido to see her quickly try and swallow the food. “That’s Mineta and he’s a total creep! Ugh, he is always trying to get into our pants, but it’s worse for Momo.” She gulped down a sip of water. “He clung onto her back during the obstacle course of the sports festival last year. Imagine not being able to get that pervert off you.”

“Why don’t you guys just report him?” You asked, watching disgustedly as he lingered around a group of girls you didn’t recognize. One of them looked like she was about to punch him in the face.

“He’s too smart,” Toru explained. “He’s one of the smartest people in our class and never does anything too gross in front of teachers. Make sure you keep your dorm room locked because he will sneak in and take your panties.”

Ashido and Hagakure both gagged at the thought.

Fuck. What a creep.

The girls continued on from there, pointing at everyone and explaining their quirk. Some were common quirks in America like Iida’s speed, although the engine aspect was new, and Kaminari’s electricity. Others were more creative like Momo’s and Tokoyami’s.

“Oh yeah! I saw Tokoyami during the sports festival. I thought his quirk was so cool!” You interrupted.

“It’s powerful too!” Mina added.

“Yeah,” You started, “I remember seeing how easily he beat everyone until Bakugou was able to figure out his weakness. That battle was tragic, yet also amazing.” You gestured your hands to match the excitement you originally felt when watching the match. “Honestly, Bakugou must have been really focused to realize Tokoyami’s weakness.”

Ashido and Hagakure laughed at your comment. “Don’t let him hear you, Y/N. It’ll just stroke his ego even more!” Mina commented.

You laughed with them, trying to push away how obviously impressed you were by Bakugou. “Yeah, you’re right.”

The three of you continued to chat until lunch was over and you needed to make your way back to class. When you got back to class, Aizawa was waiting inside for you and told you to come with him to see Mr. President.

Ashido and Hagakure’s shoulders brushed yours and you felt them worrying, so you flashed them a smile and grabbed their hands, activating your quirk to calm them down just slightly. “Don’t worry. This probably just has to do with my class placement.”

They smiled back at you and you let go of their hands before following Aizawa into the still bustling hallway. It quickly cleared out as the final bell rang and he began talking to you about your match that day.

“You worked very well today, but your quirk is too narrow when not with weapons. I’d like for us to focus on you using your quirk more offensively besides just making people fall asleep.” He commented.

You nodded, it was a comment your mom had given you time and time again. “Wait?” You looked up at him. “‘Us?’ Does that mean I’m in 1-A?”

“Would we really have rearranged the desks if you weren’t?” He questioned back.

You laughed at yourself sheepishly, “No, I guess not.”

By then, you arrived at Mr. President’s office and Aizawa knocked on the door. When it opened, you were only greeted by Mr. President this time.

“Welcome!” He greeted. “Please come in and take a seat.” You sat down along with Aizawa while Mr. President offered you each a cookie. Both of you declined. “So be it,” He said before eating up one of the cookies himself. The silence was awkward as you waited for him to finish. Once done, he looked up at you. “Y/N, congratulations on such a great first day. Aizawa told me you were able to beat Bakugou with no problem.”

“Oh,” You spoke, “Thank you, but it really was because he didn’t know my quirk. I’m sure if he did, he would have been able to avoid my sleeping touch.”

“Nonsense! Don’t sell yourself short!” Mr. The President insisted. “Anyways! I asked you here because I wanted to give you some extra time to get your things moved into the UA dorm. I know it will take some time to move your things so I got a cart for you that will help you carry more boxes.” He gestures over to a red cart in the corner of his office.

“Ah, thank you, Mr. President-sensei.” You bowed slightly to show your appreciation.

“No problem!” He smiled happily. “I hope you get accustomed quickly. Your dorms are in building 2-A, you can find it on this map.” He handed you a map of the school which you accepted graciously. “There are 5 floors, the first being recreational and the other 4 being dorms. You are on floor 4, and your room is number 6. There is a list of the dorm rules in your room so please make sure to read up on them before your classmates begin arriving later today.” He grabbed a key from a drawer in his desk and held it out for you.

You nodded again and took the key from him, making sure to be as formal as you could at this moment.

“Now, go ahead and get to it!” Mr. President announced cheerfully.

You quickly said your goodbyes and rushed out of the room with the red cart. You started on your way to your mom’s apartment, grabbing your phone and playing some music you could dance to that also had quick tempos to keep you moving.

Most of your things were already in the box, so you would only have to spend time packing the box that held everything you used in the last three days. Once back, you quickly grabbed a few boxes to pile onto your cart. You aimed for getting almost everything over by the time your classmates were done. That gave you approximately 2 and a half hours till they were done in class. It took you 10 minutes to get all the way to your room from the apartment as well as another 10 minutes to get back so you hoped you would be able to finish in time.

You moved as quickly as you could, piling the boxes onto your floor, desk, and bare mattress. Once you had every box here, you could spend the rest of your time today reorganizing. You heard the elevator ding just as you were exiting your room to head back for your last trip.

Out walked Bakugo who looked up at you before quickly looking away and walking into the room across from yours.

God, I must look like a mess, you thought as you hopped onto the elevator. You were rather sweaty and had to put your hair up into a ponytail. After your third trip, you realized you needed to change and keep your school clothes clean. You were wearing an old sweatshirt that was your brothers and practically swallowed you up and well as a pair of athletic shorts and sneakers.

You looked in the blurry metal reflection of the elevator to see flyaways from your ponytail, a few old bruises on your legs, and the mascara you wore that day flaking off and onto your cheeks. You quickly brushed away the black specs and fixed your hair the best you could. The elevator opened and you walked out with the cart, heading back to the apartment.

Honestly, you wished your interactions with Bakugo today had gone better. You didn’t know very much about him other than what you saw at the sports festival and what few articles there were about him online. A few of them analyzed his battle skills and others were about the time he got captured by a monster that really resembled a Muk from Pokemon. Ashido told you never to bring that up in front of him so that was off-limits when it came to your list of ‘Things You Can Talk to Bakugou About’.

Dumb.

His only goal in life was to become the number 1 hero and it wasn’t likely that he would even pay attention to you. It was best to sweep the silly little crush you had under the rug before it ruined your chances to even just be friends with the handsome blond.

Could you even call it a crush? You literally just met him! Maybe it was just admiration? Or a want to be friends with someone so strong? You could definitely see yourself learning from him, but you could also definitely see yourself falling in love with him.

You groaned and told yourself you could push away the feelings easily.

Your mom still wasn’t home when you arrived to grab your last four boxes so you wrote her a short note about where you would be living now and told her you were going to be busy but would try and see her soon. You also mentioned that you already fed Jerry, your cat, his afternoon treats.

As you left the apartment, you took one last look around and your eyes settled on the yellow and incredibly uncomfortable couch. You flipped off the couch, ready to settle into the small dorm you were given.

When you got back, more people were in the dorm and they quickly greeted you, asking why you left early. You briefly explained your absence before excusing yourself to unpack. A couple of the girls offered to help you, especially Ashido because your dorm was right next to her’s, but you brushed them off, saying it wouldn’t take long.

Except it would take a while. You just wanted to spend some time alone to relish in the music that helped you block out others and your thoughts.

The first thing you did was open your window to the cool air and put on your clean bedsheets. You opted for having the school provide you with furniture because you were too lazy to bring yours from America. You asked for a white desk and a black bed frame with drawers underneath it instead of a chest of drawers. You were tempted to lay down on the fresh sheets but instead spent some time putting away your clothes before finally giving in.

You finally touched the soft fabric of your bedding just as you noticed the sun beginning to set. The sky blushed pastel pinks and warm oranges that resembled the one from this morning. You pulled out your phone to see a text from your mom about your note.

TIred. I'm so tired, you thought, barely able to read the text through your blurred vision.

Before you had the chance to reply to her, your hand dropped your phone onto the soft bed and your eyelids weighed you down. Slowly, they fluttered closed and you convinced yourself that a small nap was all you needed to get through the rest of the day.

~~

When you woke up, the sun was completely gone and stars shined brightly in its place. You groaned, knowing that you were ruining your sleep schedule. Your stomach rumbled and you couldn’t resist getting out of bed and going downstairs to see what food you might be able to eat.

You opted for using the stairs, worried the sound of the elevator might wake someone. Once downstairs, you smelled something glorious, tempting you closer and closer. As you rounded the corner, you were greeted with the appearance of Bakugou.

God, I just can’t escape him.

It was then you realized that your earbuds had fallen out of your ears while you slept and you could hear Bakugo’s thoughts. He was currently reliving your battle with him today. He was making mental notes of everything that happened and also referring to a conversation he had with Kirishima about the battle.

You didn’t want to disturb him so you started to turn away when the scent of Thai curry wafted over to you and caused your stomach to grumble.

Fuck.

Bakugo looked up and you and glared.

I’m the only person ever awake at this time and now this stupid girl is going to ruin that? Is she going to always be awake at this time?

You couldn’t resist. “Uh, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt. And no I’m usually not awake at this time. I-I was just so tired from moving so I fell asleep before dinner and didn’t wake up till now. Honestly! I’m really sorry. I’ll just-”

“Shut up.”

You looked up from fiddling with your thumbs. “Sorry!”

“Stop apologizing.” He didn’t even look up at you when he responded, he just kept stirring the pot and sprinkling in different spices.

“S-” You stopped yourself. “Um, anyways! That food smells good!”

“Of course it does. I made it,” Bakugou responded.

He doesn’t put much effort into conversations, does he?

You took a seat at one of the tall stools by the kitchen, too tired to stand. It gave you a good view of all the food he had spread out. And of his back. The black shirt he wore clung to his muscles perfectly. You pushed the thought away quickly, deciding to distract yourself. “Your reputation suits you, Bakugou. Cocky.” You couldn't help but snicker a little at your comment.

Like you know anything about me, he thought.

“You’re right, I don’t know much about you. Why don’t you tell me more?” You questioned, resting your chin on your hand and leaning forward in hopes that he would open up.

However, reading his thoughts, responding to them, and asking him questions seemed to be the perfect way to set Bakugou off.

“Listen here! If you are gonna sit here, you better stop responding to my thoughts so I can at least pretend you can’t hear them. Better yet, just shut your mouth altogether!” He looked back at you with his fiery red eyes, as if challenging you to speak up just so he could respond angrier.

You zipped your lips, locked them, and threw away the invisible key.

So childish, he thought, rolling his eyes and turning back to the food.

You couldn’t help but smile at his thought, but made sure to keep silent as he continued to work. You could make something to eat after he was done. You didn’t want to get in his way and make him angrier. To keep the peace, you pushed your fingers into your ears to muffle his thoughts.

After a couple of minutes, Bakugou placed the pot of curry in front of you. Then the pot of rice. You looked up at him curiously and pulled out your fingers.

“Make yourself useful and get us bowls and chopsticks.” He took a seat in the chair next to you. “And water.”

You nodded and went to get up before stopping yourself. “Wait, you are letting me eat some of this food?”

He scoffed. “I just happened to make too much and I don’t want it to go to waste.” He looked up at you and saw the smile on your face. “Don’t think we’re friends now or anything!”

You stood up, unable to hide your small smile. He was dumb to forget you could hear his thoughts and realize that he wasn’t as angry as he showed. You happily walked up to the cabinets and then looked back at Bakugou. “Where are the bowls? And chopsticks? And cups?” You bit your lip, worried that this might actually anger him.

Bakugou scoffed and got up. He pointed at a cabinet that you opened to reveal the cups. You grabbed two and turned on the sink to fill them with water. In the meantime, Bakugou had grabbed bowls and chopsticks and was already dividing up the food into two portions.

You sat down, placing a cup in front of your seat and his. Bakugou was already eating and you weren’t sure whether to thank him for the meal so you mumbled “Itadakimasu,” before grabbing your chopsticks and eating.

Bakugou stifled a laugh at your sudden shyness and mumbled back, “Hai.”

You grabbed a good bite of the curry and slurped it down. It was spicy, but- “Holy shit, Bakugou, this is amazing!”

He didn’t even look up from his food to respond to you. “Why wouldn’t it be? I made it.” His voice was oddly calm and quiet compared to how much he yelled throughout today.

You smiled at him before taking another bite. The spiciness was hardly overpowering the creaminess of the curry. You remembered reading somewhere that Bakugou liked spicy foods and decided to try and pick up a conversation based on that. “Do you like spicy food so much because it makes you sweat?” You asked.

He paused for a moment and you could hear his brain run with thoughts on why you were so insistent on talking to him and why he actually didn’t mind it too much. “No, it’s because my body controls heat better than others. When people eat spicy food, your body thinks you're on fire and releases all these endorphins that are supposed to help with the pain. I can tolerate heat better than others so I need a lot of spice to release the endorphins.”

“Ohh,” You spoke. “That’s so cool!” You shoved more rice into your mouth to stop yourself from fawning over Bakugou’s quirk right in front of him.

You were the only person in your family without an element-related quirk. All your siblings had quirks that were offensive, but yours was defensive. It made you a little obsessed with quirks that are more powerful and offensive like Bakugou’s. You knew you were lucky to have such a powerful quirk, but you sometimes resented how you got that quirk. It was a constant reminder of a past everyone wanted to forget.

Bakugou didn’t respond to you, but you didn’t worry. You could hear his thoughts.

Why does she find such a simple part of my quirk cool? What an idiot.

Your arm brushed against his and got a brief glimpse into how many emotions were running through his head in one moment. He was a little annoyed, angry, tired, and just a tad bit nervous.

Nervous. Why is he nervous? Could he be nervous to talk to-

“What are you thinking about, huh?” He asked you, glaring in your direction. “You have such a stupid grin on your face.”

“Huh? Oh, nothing!” You responded. He raised an eyebrow at you inquisitively. “Really!” You added, waving your hands to not only assure him but also to help with how suddenly hot it was.

Bakugou groaned and looked back to your food, he didn’t start eating though.

You felt like such an asshole considering you were able to read his thoughts. You tried to ignore them, but they came through clear as day. You wouldn’t respond to him though, and frankly, you didn’t want to respond to what he was thinking about right now. You shoved more rice into your mouth to hopefully drown out his thoughts.

“So,” He mumbled, “I looked up your mom.”

You practically choked trying to finish the serving of rice in your mouth. You really didn’t think he would actually bring it up. “And?” You responded, mouth half full.

“And she’s pretty powerful. So are your siblings.”

“I know. They are my family aren’t they?” You responded.

Brat, he thought.

“Why don’t you control any elements?” He asked bluntly.

Fuck. “Fuck.” You were really wishing he wouldn’t ask that. You stuffed your face with rice again, almost refusing to respond. You loved your family to death, but that was not a question someone should ask you. It brought back too many memories. “That question is quite personal,” You mumbled as you finished off the rice. You drank the creamy broth, letting the heat fill up your body. You didn’t mean to snap, but you really didn’t want to address the elephant in the room.

“Well, how the fuck would I know that?” Bakugou responded. “I was just curious!”

You let your anger get the best of you, your body feeding off of Bakugou’s anger as well. You stood up abruptly, grabbing your bowl and tossing it into the sink. “Well, let’s take a look at the facts. My family is a long line of people who manipulate one or multiple elements. I am currently the only one alive right now who doesn’t. Obviously, it’s something personal.”

Fuck, I really messed up, Bakugou thought. He looked down, grinding his teeth in confusion and frustration. He then realized that he didn’t owe you anything and there was no reason to be mad at him.

You stopped him before he could even speak up, “Just keep your mouth fucking shut!” You turned away for a moment before looking at Bakugou. “Thank you for the delicious food!”

You stormed off, rushing to the elevator. You were going to clean up the dishes as a thank you. You were going to insist you and Bakugou meet together to go over the match today and even spar again. You were going to do a lot. But then he asked a question that was just a bit too personal for you.

Once in the elevator, you faced forward so you could see him through the long hallway just one last time. He stared at you, bowl in his hands.

What’s wrong with her? He scowled at you and caught your eyes.

I know you can hear me, (Y/N). Don’t play dumb.

The doors closed just as you gasped. You felt like an idiot.

[shieldwinter]

Stucky Fic Rec [Part Three]

Part Three of the fic rec coming at you! Sorry for it coming so late in the day - I was finishing up reading a fic that I wanted to add to this part!  I do only add fics that I’ve read, and enjoyed, to this rec so (once again) there will be few, if any, ABO and Shrinkyclink fics!  As always; I will provide the Google Doc link where I update the rec regularly, but if you’d prefer it formatted here on tumblr, it is under the cut! If you want to recommend fics, go for it!

Google Doc Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/10wqr5s-CzkFzLidQgt-y4-cjudHWwVeVPWCedMjK7t0/edit

Don’t Leave Me Asunder

        Word Count: 31.1k         Rating: Teen and Up         Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Veteran!Bucky, Amputee!Bucky         Warnings: None         Synopsis: Like many other war veterans, Bucky Barnes is alone. He doesn't talk to his family, he has no friends and his only human interactions are with his cleaning crew from Avengers Tower. Plagued by nightmares and pain, he lives each day in isolation. Until the Avengers bring their fight at home and Bucky gets to meet the famous Captain America. To his surprise, both their lives change forever after that.

Far Strayed

       Word Count: 18.3k        Rating: Mature        Notable Tags: Post CACW, Pre Infinity War        Warnings: None        Synopsis:  “They’re not going to stop coming after me,” Bucky tells Steve, somewhere in the air above Siberia. “Let them come,” Steve replies, furious still.  After Siberia, instead of seeking refuge in Wakanda, Bucky and Steve go on the run.

All My Chances Again

         Word Count: 20.6k          Rating: Explicit          Notable Tags: Time Travel, Endgame Fix-It          Warnings: Smut          Synopsis: I love him, Steve thinks into the spiraling ether; I love him; let me tell him. Give me the chance to set that one thing right. If I can’t rest for saving him, let me give him all of me and hope that it’s enough. Or; Steve gets lost in the time matrix, and begs for an out. Seems confession is good for the soul—or so he hopes.

I, Barnes 

        Word Count: 76.7k         Rating: Explicit         Notable Tags: Bi!Steve, Bi!Bucky, Period-Typical Homophobia         Warnings: Heavy Smut, Talk of Suicide, Non-Consenual Vouyerism, Panic Attacks          Synopsis: When Steve finally finds Bucky and brings him home to New York, their reunion doesn't go as planned. Bucky disappears into the bowels of the tower, avoiding Steve at all costs. Bucky believes himself to be broken beyond repair, unworthy of any contact with Steve Rogers. But having finally gotten a taste of being around Steve again, Bucky can't just leave - he needs Steve. In ways he believes prove he's a monster unfit to live.

If Steve Rogers Were Your Boyfriend 

          Word Count: 70.2k           Rating: Mature           Notable Tags: Cafe!AU, Barista!Steve, Author!Bucky           Warnings: Abusive Relationship (not Steve and Bucky)            Synopsis: When he's not editing a magazine he truly loathes or navigating a rocky relationship he truly doesn't deserve, Bucky Barnes writes a fantasy romance column with an unexpectedly loyal internet following about the barista at his favorite cafe. Barista Boyfriend makes these other worlds bearable, but the real world dreamboat isn’t remotely involved; Steve Rogers is just a muse. Everyone loves the column. And it definitely isn’t killing Bucky very gently in 500 word increments, not in the slightest. What kind of a writer can't keep fact and fiction straight? James Fuckin' Barnes, that's who.

Love Me Tender

          Word Count: 13.1k           Rating: Teen and Up           Notable Tags: Canon Divergence            Warnings: None           Synopsis: Steve is captured by Hydra, who for lack of any other containment options, activate the Winter Soldier and order the man to "take care of Captain America". They really should have been more specific. - OR: Taking care of Captain America is a task that the Soldier's body seems to remember how to do, even if he doesn't understand why.

Falling Back on Forever 

          Word Count: 24k           Rating: Explicit            Notable Tags: Revenge Road Trip, Identity Porn           Warnings: Smut           Synopsis: Bucky falls from the train in 1945. Steve jumps right after him. The Winter Soldier and the Midnight Patriot are the world's most feared duo, serving HYDRA and leaving a trail of bodies a mile wide behind them. But then they remember.

Wishes and Words

         Word Count: 48.2k          Rating: Explicit          Notable Tags: Fantasy!AU, Prince!Steve          Warnings: Smut, Past Torture          Synopsis: Life is going great until the day Bucky Barnes finds Crown Prince Steven Grant bleeding out on his lands. Then it only gets better.

How Bucky Barnes Won His Second Pulitzer

         Word Count: 11.6k          Rating: General Audience          Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Protective Steve          Warnings: None          Synopsis:  It isn’t like him and Steve go out frequently. Sometimes he’ll stop by Bucky’s apartment and they’ll binge watch tv shows, or Steve will tell him stories from ‘back in the day’. They’ve only gone out in public two or three times and it was merely quick runs to get coffee, or more popcorn.  So Bucky really doesn’t understand where this Hydra asshole is coming from when he says: “The reason we took you is because we know the Captain will come running right into our trap.” (aka: bucky is an award winning journalist who really doesn't appreciate being used as bait for a beefed up, spandex-clad super soldier.)

Maybe This Christmas

          Word Count: 24.8k           Rating: Teen and Up           Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Christmas           Warnings: None           Synopsis: Bucky’s not going home for Christmas. But it’s fine. He’s spending Christmas alone in his apartment, but it’s cool. He’s not feeling up to seeing his family after his accident anyway, plus he has to work. He’s totally fine with it. But then he runs into Steve, literally, and suddenly his Christmas isn’t looking so empty after all.

6 Avenue Local

         Word Count: 10.6k          Rating: Teen and Up          Notable Tags: No Powers!AU, Veteran!Bucky, Graphic Designer!Steve          Warnings: None          Synopsis: It takes a moment for Steve to add up the features on the man in front of him: those blue-grey eyes, a cleft chin, high cheekbones. Sure, he's older, dirtier, taller, but there's only one person Steve knew who looked like that. "Bucky?" he asks. "Bucky Barnes?" It's been so long since he's said that name out loud. "Yeah, I..." Bucky pauses. "Oh fuck," he says. "I missed my stop." Steve smiles. “Wanna get a burger?” he asks, noting the happy coincidence that Bucky Barnes, of all the people in New York, fell asleep in the same subway car that Steve would walk into, and missed his stop. “Sure,” Bucky says with a shrug. “I could eat.”

Kingdom Come

          Word Count: 8.2k           Rating: Teen and Up           Notable Tags: Missions Gone Wrong, Angst w/ Happy Ending           Warnings: Near Death Experience           Synopsis: “It’s too late, Steve,” Bucky’s voice across the comm is flat, layered with static. “The deadlock’s irreversible. S’the only way.” Steve knows what nearly dying feels like; knows it better than most, and this—those words, that voice, this impossible burning that courses through him like the serum in reverse, this. This is so much worse than nearly.

Just Me, You, and These Shitty Cigarettes

        Word Count: 39.8k         Rating: Explicit         Notable Tags: Modern!AU, Veteran!Bucky, Barista!Bucky, Artist!Steve         Warnings: Smut, Dubious Consent         Synopsis: Steve Rogers is pretty sure Natasha's new roommate is trying to kill him. Which he wouldn't mind considering he's been helplessly in love with him since they were thirteen.

Where All Roads Lead

        Word Count: 46.1k         Rating: Explicit         Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Time Travel, Historian!Bucky         Warnings: Smut         Synopsis: When Steve Rogers inadvertently touches a relic in the course of a mission gone sideways during WWII, he’s catapulted seventy years into the future. Before he's even sure where he's ended up, his search for help puts him in contact with Bucky Barnes, a historian and college professor who has built a career around studying Captain America. With Bucky's help, Steve means to find out how exactly he ended up in 2017, and solve the bigger mystery of how to get home. There's just one problem. The closer they get to their goal, the less certain Steve is that he wants to go home.

Énoument

         Word Count: 77.9k          Rating: Mature          Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Meet-Cute          Warnings: Smut          Synopsis: When Steve first met Sergeant James Barnes during the New York invasion, he flipped Steve off for calling him a civilian, then roundhouse kicked an alien in the face. They haven't stopped talking to each other ever since, and Steve thought it was normal for him to latch onto the first person who befriended him after coming out of the ice. Nope, turns out he was just pining.

Closed Book

         Word Count: 38.8k          Rating: Explicit          Notable Tags: Amnesia          Warnings: Smut          Synopsis: Bucky woke up with a headache, a mouth that tasted like something had died in it, and hands-down, swear-to-god, the most beautiful man he had ever seen asleep in his lap. Bucky was also, he realized after a moment, strapped down to a hospital bed with about six different monitors making unsynced, equally piercing, beeps. Beyond that he couldn’t quite see—there was a hideous floral curtain pulled around the bed, and while he could just make out figures moving in the room beyond it, the pattern made his head pound even worse the longer he looked at it. So. That was concerning.

[mutalune]

Hey! I hope November is treating you better than October! (Other than the first tuesday. It lasted like a whole week! Crazy!) Do you have any branching stories of your AU? Like would Izuku’s birthday phone call have happened in the original universe? What if Aizawa had a password from Nedzu so he could approach him early? That the time travel aspect of your fic was so ... ill-prepared? is absolutely fascinating. Finally, yours is so good that I’m even recounting it to Datemate! Ihopethismakesit!

first off plz tell your datemate that i said hi because that’s so fucking cute and i hope they’re enjoying the recounting

second off november is going MILES better than october thank you so much for the well-wishes <3

third off thank you??? for your kind words???? seriously appreciate it so much <3

okay onto the fun stuff - i don’t have anything written that’s branching off from the AU, but i have Ideas if you’re interested in hearing them!! (i’m gonna try not to spoil future things in my fic and not give too much away but i’m also Dumb so read at your own risk lmao)

izuku and his dad - AU vs OU

in general, the way i view a lot of the stuff with izuku’s dad is that if izuku had been even a teensy-bit more genuine with his dad in the Original Universe, his relationship with his dad would be way different than the Original Universe. i see the OU relationship between them as unmatured - Hisashi cared about izuku in the OU as well, but he never looked deeper into izuku’s life other than a cursory “oh he’s doing well, his grades are good, he’s healthy, he made it into the high school he wanted.”

and that’s because in the OU, izuku only had all might and his mom as role models. Inko gave him kindness and strength and determination. all might gave him hope and something to aspire towards.

all of that makes the wonderful being that is Canon Deku and i do adore that boy, but Hisashi does Not Like All Might and he wouldn’t be able to handle a tiny deku’s gushing over the hero that destroyed his quality of life. and deku hadn’t been socialized enough to talk about anything EXCEPT all might or heroes - a consequence of having no friends except your busy working mom.

so even if izuku had been open in the OU to a relationship with hisashi (which i don’t think he was, because i think without aizawa there to help him be confident, he would default to protecting himself and hiding and he wouldn’t have the safety of aizawa’s love/support to shield him from if hisashi had rejected him in any way - better to stay away than risk getting hurt and rejected by the only other adult that was semi-obligated to give a damn about him) - i don’t think hisashi would’ve been open to it himself

(i think i said this in an A/N somewhere but i have literally no idea of when AFO and all might had their Big Blowout Fight in canon, so for my purposes, it happened pre-fic when izuku was 6 lmao)

Hisashi has some amount of trauma from that fight - who wouldn’t after losing their sight and most of their face? - the same that all might does, even if we don’t see all might explore that very much. and as someone who has her own trauma, i know i go into “AVOID!!!! AVOID AT ALL COSTS!!!!” mode when i come across any kind of trigger.

multiply that by 100x because it’s Your Son who You Adore More Than Anything Even If You Don’t Know Him That Well Because You Also Have Family Trauma - yeah, i can’t imagine hisashi being comfortable with more than the bare minimum kind of relationship with his all might fanboy son.

SO THAT WAS A REALLY LONG WAY OF SAYING: yes, the phone call would’ve happened, but it would have been:

“hey happy birthday”

“thanks”

“how’s school”

“it’s fine. how’s america”

“it’s fine. americans, ya know.”

*awkward silence*

“okay talk to you next year.”

regarding nedzu and aizawa

honestly that’s one of those things i hadn’t even considered when writing this fic if i’m being honest. like the whole reason i started thinking about writing this fic was “how can i give aizawa a tiny izuku to protect and care for without killing inko or making her a Terrible Mother” because that was most of the fics i was seeing (which are all still fun to read don’t get me wrong but i like inko and i like writing women and i am a lesbian who Loves Women!!!!) and i just started writing and THEN made the plot and actual details fit with the first 5 chapters i wrote lmao

i think, though, that nedzu is such a wildcard. like i haven’t read the manga so maybe he’s more understandable in that, but it seems to me like his motivations aren’t very clear. he’s not really a dumbledore-type figure in my eyes - he’s not the general of the battle against the LOV, even if he has authority and has a position and has the intelligence, ya know?

he’s very inscrutable to me, and he has his own bias and own motivations that are intriguing to consider - but i can’t imagine aizawa trusting a past-version of nedzu to work towards the same goals he’s working towards.

like, aizawa thinks he’s logical. but at the end of the day, i write him as a “loved ones comes first, the world comes second” character. and whether he can admit it to himself or not, he knows that nedzu would put the world first.

and it would scare him that nedzu might see izuku (or any of his students, or hizashi, or nemuri) as expendable if that means avoiding the future aizawa came from. with nedzu being as smart as he is and as inscrutable as he is, aizawa could end up as his pawn towards whatever *nedzu* thinks is the best course of action, even if he was completely honest with nedzu.

this is something that i don’t think has come up yet, but aizawa *knows* he’s not the smartest guy. like he knows he’s not an idiot, but he knows that hizashi is WAY smarter than him, and he knows that he wouldn’t be able to beat nedzu in a game of checkers, let alone a life-size game of war.

i could see a version where aizawa gets all might’s help and has some sort of “i know this thing that you never told anyone else, i’m from the future, help” type of password, or i could see him doing it with just about any other pro-hero or any of his students, but i really can’t see a version where he would enlist nedzu first. i think he would want to set some of his plans in motion that even with all of his intelligence, nedzu wouldn’t be able to stop.

(does aizawa even have plans? no he doesn’t, which means he would wait to involve nedzu until he came up with a plan, but he can’t come up with a plan b/c he is Not a Strategic Thinker, so he keeps fixing small problems and saying that when he comes up with a plan he’ll call nedzu, and then he’s fighting the LOV singlehandedly because he’s a moron.)

aizawa isn’t a big picture guy, to me. he’s the best and worst person to send back in time because of it lmao - he’s the best because he is smart and sneaky and (if he had all of the right information) he would find the easiest, quickest solution. he’s the worst because he would be the guy who, given the chance to go back in time and stop someone from destroying the world, he would go “okay i’ll just kill that guy before he becomes a Big Huge Villain” and then not realize “oh wait that just means someone else will step in a fill the void and now i don’t know who that guy is so that’ll be harder and all of my future knowledge is For Nothing” (cough CHISAKI cough)

WOW THIS IS SO LONG i hope if you read it all the way to the end you enjoyed my babbling or at least didn’t hate it enough that you won’t ever open my fic ever again~

in all seriousness, thank you for your ask and thank you for giving me a chance to babble about some of this stuff because i have BIG OPINIONS and a lot of thought has gone into this AU and what the OU of my AU (that is in and of itself a canon divergence/AU of canon lmao) would look like. it was really fun to dive into this onto a medium that isn’t just another document on my google drive~

i hope you’re having a lovely november and if you do anything for the holiday season, you have fun with it~! (also plz feel free to stop in and chat more/ask more if you want to!!! i’m trying to be better about being on tumblr more often lol)

[disembodiedapparition]

Breaking The Pro-Life Argument Down:

I think it’s hilarious how right wing “facts don’t care about your feelings” activists are almost always pro-life. The argument against abortion as an accessible form of birth control is 100% an emotional appeal, and here’s why:

1. “You have no right to kill your fetus. It’s not your body, the baby is an individual and has the right to life.”:

Of course, all embryos are human individuals, separate from their mothers. They have their own unique DNA composition, and are definitely alive. But do they deserve the right to life, which would make abortion equivalent to murder?

Pro-lifers are largely okay with IVF, an industry that throws away and destroys millions of fertilized embryos every day. In-vitro fertilization is an uncertain science, so couples are advised to fertilize multiple eggs in the labs in case the first few don’t work out. If a couple succeeds and have extra embryos left, they have the option to continue paying to store them in the lab, donate them to medical research, or destroy them.

Anti-abortion bills always have exceptions for IVF clinics. Republican, pro-life lawmakers have literally had children via IVF. If a pro-lifer ever tells you that life begins at conception and that every embryo has the right to life, know that it’s bullshit. They don’t care about an industry that kills more embryos in a day than Planned Parenthood does in a year.

2. There are two possible responses to this.

A) “Fine, let’s ban IVF.” Out of all the conservative groups in America, only one major group explicitly stands against IVF – the Catholic Church. The same organization that condemns sex before marriage, homosexuality, divorce, masturbation/porn, the use of condoms, getting drunk or high, and tattoos. At this point, I’m assuming you understand that the Church’s ideas of morality are regressive, illogical, primitive, and… make life extremely boring. IVF is a wonderful science that brings children to parents who want them all over the world and is in no way a bad thing.

B) “Fine. Maybe not at conception, but at [x] months, it’s a baby.” This is the point where most conservatives start arguing about the point up till you should be allowed to have an abortion. Two weeks? Six weeks? Three months? Unfortunately, there is no scientific way to determine when an embryo is no longer just a clump of cells and now a human being with rights.

Since pro-lifers are okay with IVF, we can assume they don’t believe in the right to life at conception. How about the heartbeat theory? At six weeks, the fetus develops a heartbeat, and proponents argue that it is the point at which the fetus is no longer simply a fetus, but a human being. However, having a heartbeat doesn’t necessarily mean you have the right to life.

Legally, if you are brain dead, you’re… dead. You no longer have the right to life, which is why organ donation is possible. All this while having a heartbeat, so that’s clearly not a viable hallmark of an individual that inherently has the right to life. So while it’s true that at six weeks a baby develops (what is flimsily termed as) a heartbeat, that doesn’t somehow give it rights to life that it did not have before. So far, I haven’t come across any other sensible theories as to “when” an embryo deserves the right to life. It’s a lousy concept to begin with, as blurry as the legal definition of adulthood – not all 18+ year olds are mature and nothing fundamentally changes in a person once the clock strikes midnight. Similarly, embryo development is a process. There’s really no point at which you can logically claim it’s transformed into a human being with rights.

3. Evidently, there are two extremes — life begins at conception, vs life doesn’t begin until birth.

There’s no “scientific backing” for a point in between, but you’ll never find a pro-choice advocate arguing in favor of the latter, because it’s called an extreme for a reason. The best way to deal with the abortion issue at this point is to leave the science and technicalities alone, and think about the people who are actually getting abortions.

4. “Use protection and you won’t get pregnant”:

Protection is never 100% reliable. Plus: if two people are irresponsible enough to have unprotected sex, what makes you think they’re responsible enough to have and raise children? The number of children growing up with unqualified, immature, abusive, or neglectful parents automatically disproves the theory that parenthood beings about a sense of personal responsibility. Being raised by bad parents inflicts often irreparable damage on children. Treating babies as some sort of “divine punishment” for irresponsible sex, instead of human beings who deserve a stable upbringing, is harmful on both an individual and collective scale. The data on irresponsible, neglectful, or abusive childhoods/single parent childhoods speaks for itself. In the quest to punish irresponsible parents, most of the damage is inflicted on their children, which in turn impacts the generation that will lead us forward into the future. It is in our best interests to raise as many mature, healthy, and productive young adults as possible, and while not every child born into these circumstances live lives of mental health/psychological/intimacy issues and criminal behavior, a large majority do. Growing up with bad parents is simply not ideal for an impressionable child’s wellbeing. Quality of life > quantity of life.

5. “Don’t have sex if you don’t want to have children.”:

Unhelpful, unrealistic, and telling of no real desire to solve the problem at hand. People will have sex. What are we going to do to make sure the sex doesn’t lead to unplanned pregnancies?

6. “Okay but what about xyz who had an abortion and has regretted it ever since?”:

Abortion is a result of unplanned and unfortunate circumstances. Whether it’s because the doctor tells you your baby will be stillborn or born with a fatal illness, or if you were raped, or if you had sex with your boyfriend during your first year of college and found yourself pregnant: these are bad situations, and no matter what you do, there’s always a chance you’ll look back and wish you’d done things differently. Kept the baby? Well, maybe you’ll find that the baby brought newfound purpose to your life. But maybe the baby added an additional financial strain to your life and forced you to quit your job, leaving you destitute and homeless with no way to feed it. Alternatively, if you got an abortion, maybe you end up being able to finish college and fulfil all your goals… or maybe you regret that decision for the rest of your life. There’s no way to guarantee that you’re making the right decision, but being informed about your options, and having options available, makes it more likely that you do. That’s why we are advocating for informed choice. Whether they eventually choose to keep the baby or have an abortion, give women the time and resources to truly evaluate their options and do what’s best for them in their own circumstances.

7. “Why kill the baby? Put it up for adoption.”:

The adoption system is known for being isolating, exploitative, and unhealthy for children growing up in it. Being adopted into a great family can create healthy, happy young adults. But far too many kids don’t get that opportunity, and pay the price for it. In 2019, 122,216 children in the US adoption system were waiting to be adopted. Young people who age-out of the foster care system without being adopted are over-represented in rates of incarceration, suicide and substance abuse.

Granted, for some kids it’s a better alternative to the families they would have grew up in, but again: it’s an unideal situation. An unideal situation that can very easily be avoided with abortion. Why would a person choose 9 months of labor, plus all the emotional labor of having to give your child away to a system that more likely than not will eat them alive, knowing they will grow up asking themselves why they weren’t good enough for their birth parents, when the person could… simply not have that baby and not invite all that pain?

To summarize:

It is definitively not in anyone’s best interests to force unwilling and unprepared parents to have an unwanted child. It’s also not a good idea to get too deep into the technicalities of when an embryo is a fetus or when you’re allowed or not allowed to abort it. We need to focus on the women who are actually getting abortions. Having a baby is a huge life adjustment. Keep it, and you’re taking on an 18-year responsibility. You are responsible for another person’s wellbeing, and your life will never be the same.

In three months (about 12 weeks), a potential mother can: find out that they’re pregnant (missing periods is extremely common. A lot of women only find out they’re pregnant at two months, or 8 weeks), think about their financial, professional, social, romantic, or whatever situation and figure out what would be the best course of action, and then actually get the abortion if she chooses to. 12 weeks is enough, 12 weeks is reasonable, 12 weeks is humane. Nobody wants third-trimester abortions unless there are serious, life threatening complications.

The pro-life argument is reduced down to: well, abortion is bad! That’s a little innocent baby. It didn’t hurt anyone. Well, we agree: abortion is bad. It’s not a good thing, it’s not something people want to have to do. Nobody looks forward to giving or receiving an abortion, it’s physically painful and often heart-breaking. But is it as bad as forcing a woman to go through nine months of excruciating, potentially life-threatening labor for a child she doesn’t even want to have? Is it as bad as enforcing serious health, financial, emotional, social, and professional risks on a woman who knows she is in no way ready to give a baby the life it deserves? Is it worse than having to wake up every day with a heavy pit in your stomach because you can’t feed your little girl since you had to drop out of high school to take care of her? Worse than having to give your baby away to an adoption center, where they’re likely to join the hundreds of thousands of unadopted children? There are evils, and then there are greater evils. Abortion may not be ideal, but for some people, it’s the best option out there. When broken down, the pro-life argument is nothing but sad, provocative videos & descriptions of surgical abortions intended to pull at your heartstrings. But they’re sometimes the best option for the mother and her unborn baby. Nobody is pro-abortion — we’re pro-choice.

[toogoodmusic]

THE TOO GOOD TEN with MADS LANGER

Growing up in the countryside near the small town of Skive, singer, songwriter and musician Mads Langer grew up always knowing he’d be in music. From singing songs at the age of 18 months in his own language to his latest release, “Lightning,” the new dad has been pursuing the dream for a long time now. Through honest, original and disruptive music the Danish singer has been able to be reborn time and time again through his music and continues that creativity as he looks to the release of his upcoming EP, Where Oceans Meet. The boundary pushing message of love is love in “Lightning” serves as a taste of the upcoming EP and contributes to the already 38 million streams and 506k monthly listeners he’s amassed across his career. He takes a break from his world domination to take on the latest Too Good Ten. Check out the full interview below to learn more about the latest release, “Lightning,” how becoming a dad has changed his perspective on life, how he rebounded from getting dropped by his girlfriend and label around the same time and much more.

The Too Good Ten. Ten Questions. One Artist. Too Good.

1. Looking at the beginning of your career – what was it about music that inspired you to pursue a career in it?

MADS LANGER: Expressing myself through music has been a fundamental part of my language for as long as I remember. My parents have recordings of me singing my own songs in my own language when I was 18 months old. I always knew that music was going to be my path in life. It wasn't a decision that I made at a certain time. It was more a realization that I was not gonna be able to pursue any other career even though I’ve always had plenty of other interests. I could have been in politics, in sports, in science and many other things. I could have been a teacher as my parents, my grandparents and my great grandparents were. And then again, none of these career paths were ever up for grabs. Music was and always will be my thing.

2. You got signed and had an album that you ended up describing as “flopped” and had to start over and spent time busking all over Europe. How did you come to the decision to busk in the wake of “starting over?” What did you do to keep your internal mental conversation strong through the hardships that I assume came with traveling around?

ML: I got signed when I had just turned 18. I went straight from living in my parents house, in the countryside of Denmark, to living a life full of pressure and expectations in New York City. That was quite a shocking change of scenery to be honest. Looking back, I was definitely too young at that time. When a major label first wants you it’s the end of the innocence. I had to grow up overnight and try to keep up with that big machine that started dictating how I was gonna live my life. When my first record didn't succeed commercially and I got dropped I think I saw it as an opportunity to do some of the stuff that most of my friends had done after finishing high school. But most of all that whole 6 months of busking in my old van all over Europe was an escape from heartbreak. My first girlfriend had dropped me around the same time that my label dropped me. She fell in love with a really cool guy in Paris who was older than me and he could grow a very impressive beard, hahaha…

As far as keeping my internal mental conversation strong, that's has never been problem at all and as you can imagine I had plenty of stuff to think about, write about and then finally sing about in the streets of all of these beautiful cities that I got to visit on that trip.

3. “Lightning” is the latest release and gives fans the first taste of your upcoming album Where Oceans Meet which is due out October 1st. How did you decide to release this one as the lead single? What was the inspiration behind it?

ML: In many ways, I think “Lightning” is a song that represents that certain place where the oceans meet on my album. “Lightning” is a song about recognition. When I wrote this song, I thought about all those moments in my life where I really felt recognized on a deeper level. When I met my wife. When I looked my newborn daughter in the eyes for the first time. In concerts when my music meets the audience and it feels like we're all getting struck by the same lightning. Those kinds of moments.

CHECK OUT THE FAUSTIX REMIX OF “LIGHTNING” HERE.

4. Speaking of the upcoming album – what’s the meaning behind the album title? How many songs? Any collabs? Is there a song on the album you’re nervous about releasing out to the world?

ML: Where Oceans Meet is a metaphor. The entire album circles around the different contrasts that we all face in our lives. The light, the dark. The head, the heart. Hopes and fears. It’s about loving and longing at the same time. Where Oceans Meet represents the idea of the place where all these contrasts meet and embrace each other.

5. “Lightning” follows up “Hanging With You” which peaked at #1 in Denmark radio. What’s the story behind when you first heard one of your songs on the radio? Does it ever get old?

ML: It never gets old. Every time I listen to the radio, I must admit that I hope that they will play my song. It's the best feeling ever. This might be a little far-fetched, but it's kind of like when you give someone you really care for a present for their birthday. And it's not just any kind of present. It’s a present that you put all your time, thoughts and heart into. And then one day you randomly turn on the TV. Look who's there. Is that special person that you gave the present to. She’s actually wearing that sweater that you spent five years learning how to knit. After endless attempts, you finally managed to knit a sweater that you would give her without being scared that she would think it was a joke. She’s not wearing it because she feels like she has to, because you’re on a date with her. She’s wearing it because she likes it. And she just put it on that day that she randomly got stopped by the tv-station and interviewed in the streets of your hometown. That is close to the feeling I get when I hear my songs on the radio. And no, I have no clue how to knit a sweater, but I like the image.

6. The past year in the pandemic had a lot of its own challenges but it also had some beautiful moments like the drive-in concert you organized in Denmark last May. Why did you feel it necessary to put something like this together during that time? Being the first one to do so, how did you figure out logistics, etc. for the entire event? Anything you would’ve changed about it looking back?

ML: I had just started touring when the pandemic hit us all. I had spent months preparing the show and I was extremely disappointed when I had to turn around the tour bus and go back home after only playing 10 out of 100 shows. I had a couple of weeks where I was feeling really depressed. But then I decided to see if I could turn this whole thing into some sort of an adventure. I made a list of stuff I wanted to do. On that list I had drive-in concerts for some reason. I know a couple guys who are really good at putting together big events that include live music, so we talked about how we could make this happen. All credit to them for putting logistics together. I just played the shows. I had no idea that I would be the first one in the world to do a drive in concert. But it was really fun and I would not change a thing. In my shows, everyone was on the same video conference call. I loved that because I could talk to the people in the cars in between the songs. The people in their cars requested what songs of mine that they wanted to hear. And often they had really personal stories to the songs that I never heard before. So that was something that I will never forget.

7. The past year also brought about a new baby for you – congrats! What’s been the most surprising thing about having a baby that you might not have known before?

ML: Thank you so much. Yeah, that's truly a life changing event. My little daughter is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I'm so grateful that I got to receive a little soul with my wife. Even though it has happened billions and billions of times already it still feels like a miracle. I think the biggest surprise is the fact that your whole perspective changes in the blink of an eye. She is now the single most important thing in my life. I thought that would be something that would happen gradually, but for me it really happened at the moment that she was born.

8. What do you hope to accomplish with your music in the future that you may feel you have not done already? Have any of those goals or aspirations shifted with the new addition to the family?

ML: I really hope that people will recognize themselves in my songs. Obviously, the goal is that my songs will travel and become part of people's lives in new territories. I have spent so much time in the US since I moved away from home. I lived in New York City and in Los Angeles and I spend at least three or four months a year in the US working with all the talented people that I have met over the years. Building an audience in the US is a huge dream of mine. Hopefully this album will help introducing me to people all over America.

9. If you could only listen to (5) artists for the rest of your life, who would they be?

ML: 

The Beatles

Pink Floyd

Keith Jarrett

Mozart

Radiohead

10. What’s the rest of 2021 and beyond look like for Mads Langer?

ML: My album comes out in October. That is obviously a huge event in my life, and it looks like I'm going to be very busy talking about the album and singing the songs from it in many different places all over the world. Apart from that I will be changing diapers on my newborn daughter. Kissing my wife. Learning Chinese and writing my first score for a movie that comes out in 2022.

A HUGE shout-out to the talented Mads Langer for hanging for this latest Too Good Ten interview. Keep up to date with everything he has going on by following the links below and be sure to be on the look out for his latest EP, Where Oceans Meet due out October 1st. 

SOCIAL LINKS:

Facebook

Instagram

Twitter

YouTube

MUSIC:

Apple Music

Spotify

[stephaniesramblings]

My relationship with sports/athletics has always been an interesting one. Competitiveness runs in my blood. I get it from my Dad. He had two stories he would tell about himself and sports. 1 was how angry his Dad got when he was in high school and the coach didn’t put him in as point guard in the state championship. They lost. The other was how when he was in little league his coach told him to crouch down so he would get walked every at-bat. Yes, my Dad was a short guy. In basketball they called him “Mouse”. He had a lot of spunk. He was scrappy and he could get heated when he was in the midst of battling on the basketball court, or in any other sport he played.

Well, I think I get it from him. As a kiddo, my greatest sporting accomplishments were:

1st grade field day, I earned 1st place in the sprint. I was always proud of this, but became even more proud when I was in my early 20’s. I received a message on FB from a guy I had gone to school with. He had done track in college and took it upon himself to message and tell me that I was the only girl that ever beat him in a race. I guess I should have been offended, but I wasn’t.

The other was my short-lived soccer career. I think I was about 7. I had never played soccer before. How hard could it be? During the try-out I won yet another sprint. So, I made the team. I would pick it up as I went along, right? Well, I was able to get the ball just fine and I could kick it SO far. The only issue was that everytime I kicked it with all my might, it went out of bounds. To the point where I was put in goal, or told to hang down by our net and get the ball away from the other team. Hopefully with all that field in front of me I could just kick it to the coach’s son. It went ok.

When I got to middle school, I tried again. I signed up to play basketball. The school I was at was a small private school, so the girl’s team went from 6-12 grade. I was a benchwarmer being in 6th grade and having little to no skill. It had its ups and downs. One of the first and maybe only times I was put in the game, I got so flustered, I shot on the other team’s net. The entire place was yelling “NOOOOO!”. It didn’t go in luckily, but I was on the bench for a while after that. The times that I felt like I contributed were always on the defensive side of things. I was scrappy like my Dad. I could steal the ball. I angered some of the girls on the other team. Even one time having a girl yell at the ref when I stole the ball from her. A foul was not called, and I let her know about it. It should be noted, Dad always came to watch me and to cheer me on. Even though I mostly rode the bench. He loved it, and of course thought my coach should have put me in more too.

Well, that was kind of the end of it when it came to me and sports. I played a little basketball and floor hockey with the youth group, but never really felt very good at it.

So it was kind of surprising when I was 29, I was working in a lab and two of my coworkers started talking to me about roller derby. As with a lot of derby player’s stories, I saw Whip It, and thought it looked awesome. I wondered if that sort of thing existed, but I didn’t pursue it. My coworkers “Kenya Diggit” and “HK” (I don’t remember what it stood for) would tell me how great it was and how it is quite a commitment. It was not just a sport. I am glad they warned me! I think in my head I considered a sports league like a bowling league or something. Pay your dues, show up on whatever night. Not derby. Other than feeling very down on myself and wanting to get some exercise, I had no other reason to do this. I had tried skating at a few birthday parties at Roller Kingdom growing up. I would switch between skates and blades and usually ended up on the rollerblades, but barely keeping myself up. Why would I do this? Well, I needed something. And they told me that they teach you everything. You just need to get the gear and show up. So I got myself to the skate shop, spent a LOT (to me) of money on all the gear, and figured if I do this, I won’t quit! This proved to be true. I showed up for the 1st night petrified. My friend who still skated, Kenya was a vet, and they were in a different area. I had to put myself out there. I am not a social butterfly, so this was more than just putting myself out there athletically. I had to talk to strangers! I had to try something I knew I would be terrible at, and all the while not knowing how everyone else around me would do. Well, it was a mixed bag. The overriding factor though was that we were all supporting each other at whatever level we were. We encouraged and cheered for each other when we got the thing we kept failing at over and over. I cried over this journey. I thought I would never get crossovers (still wish mine were better) and that I would never be able to transition, therefore I would never pass assessments and never make a team. I didn’t give up though. I don’t know how or why I didn’t, but I didn’t. At some point as I was progressing I watched the sport I was learning to play. Go figure. It only took me almost a year to check it out, but it changed the way I saw everything. I saw the strategy in it. I saw the reason each and every skill was important. It lit a fire in me to keep trying, and to play to my strengths. I never gave up on making my skills better, but they will never be perfect. I accepted myself though and felt pride for where I found myself. And yes, the Morrison competitiveness came out. I was and am a bully on the track. I still like to ruffle my opponent’s feathers. My brain is still geared toward defense. I found though, that I had confidence for maybe the 1st time ever in a sport. It changed me. I found myself on the travel team and going to tournaments. The bond with my teammates just got stronger. From the ones that watched my progression and trained me that were now my teammates, to the people I walked in with on that 1st night, we had a history and we celebrated each other getting it. We had highs and lows too, but we kept showing up and working to be better.

My mom told me the other day that the biggest change she has seen in me has been since roller derby. I love my mom. She always encourages me and tells me awesome I am. How I should be proud of what I've accomplished. It’s so funny to me that she said that because I’ve gone through career changes, marriage, separation, moves, family illness, divorce, you think those things must change you, and I’m sure they did. How funny though that something as silly as a sport or a league could literally give you the confidence to make decisions in your personal life that help you grow. To feel like you matter and you are strong enough to get through whatever obstacle is in front of you. There were nights I dragged myself to practice crying the entire way because of everything going on in my life. I would leave there feeling like I left the weight of the world inside Roll On America.

My Dad was so proud of me because of roller derby. He would always talk about it even in the last few months that I had with him at home. “When are you going up to Maine to play?” My big brother also came to a game the last season before the pandemic. I won MVP that game. I think he had tears in his eyes after. He was so proud of me too. I cried after he left in front of all my league mates that were there. I got all the derby hugs 💚. The beautiful thing is that you don't even need to tell your team what you're going though. They just know how to be supportive in all the little ways. I'm so thankful for these last 8 years and I'm not quitting anytime soon.

Roller derby saved my life.

“I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.”

[script-a-world]

(sorry this is long) I'm creating a fantasy matriarchal society that's a combination of like America post WW2 and like the amazons/valkyries crossed with magical girls. I could use some help figuring out the gender dynamics, since part of my goal is to use the swap to highlight some inequalities that still exist in our gender expectations today by flipping them. I'm trying to figure out if it's better to have the men be primary caregivers (1/?)

since there’s no reason to assume that the gender that gives birth has to be the caregivers) or if I should go the “matriarchal society would value childrearing above other jobs” route. Some thoughts I had: Women are the main magic-users in society (magical girl/amazons blessed directly by the god who rules the city with power)and that perhaps all young women are expected to go through military service of some sort before becoming matrons, politicians and doctors. (2/?)

Maybe women are associated with Life and Death and “important duties” that revolve around them, including duties regarding both killing and saving lives. So healing, leading armies, fighting, hunting, childbirth (possibly care?) and politics are feminine jobs, while “lesser duties” that revolve more around menial labor are relegated to men (manual labor, maintenance, ‘uneducated’ jobs, support jobs like scribe and secretary, cooking, cleaning, perhaps some jobs like fashion design or art). (3/?)

Do you think this is a good balance? What are some other ways I could divide gender roles? The world situation is a magical land with about early 20th century level tech (trains and private schools and like phones/radios).Also, what is the best way to objectify men in this society? I was thinking of making it so men are seen as useless/only for the purpose of providing sexual pleasure and siring children to women. (4/?)

They don’t’ actually create children or take the ‘important jobs’ (the poor dears just don’t have the brains for it, they’re too simple and direct, men don’t have the emotional maturity to handle serious issues, they lack empathy, they only want sex anyway so it’s not like you need to worry about their emotional needs, etc). I’d love some suggestions on how a society like this might work or if there are other ways to divide the gender roles, (5/?)

as well as some ways men might experience objectification in society. How would fashion be different, and how would this society put pressure on men to look or act in certain ways (and women as well). Any suggestions? Thanks, and sorry for the long question(6/?)

Mod Miri Note: If you have a question that requires multiple asks, please use the google form! That way there’s no risk of parts of the question being lost.

Tex: “Do you think this is a good balance?” No, I do not. I disagree with the notion that a group of people ought to be objectified, neglected, abused, pigeon-holed, or otherwise mistreated under the guise of inversion as a way to tout a certain prescription of thought. I think this methodology perpetuates stereotypes, and with stereotypes come all the -isms that are used as excuses to treat people poorly just because they’re different from the originating group.

I’m going to be radical and say “none of the above”. There’s a few reasons for my answer, but aside from the brief overview in the previous paragraph, let me go through and try responding to all of your points in a more precise manner.

Let’s start with American culture post WWII - and I’m going to assume that, because of this choice, you’re working from an American perspective. This is important! But I’ll handle that detail in a bit.

Post-WWII culture is heavily influenced by WWII culture. For women, this meant enlistment in the military, as well as filling the gaps in the domestic labor force left by men being shipped off (History.com, The Atlantic). Their service in the military - quite often voluntary - was as critical and crucial as their domestic work (Wikipedia 1, Wikipedia 2, Wikipedia 3). They usually received lower pay than men, true (though interestingly the women in the UK were often treated better; Striking Women), though governments of the time admitted that without women the war effort would have crumpled.

Rosie the Riveter is a popular piece of propaganda (where it was also considered patriotic for women to join the workforce and military service; National Women’s History Museum), but don’t let that dissuade you from thinking that women were not recognized for other types of work during the war. Many women in the US were recognized for their military service (USO), and other women’s histories endure today - Lyudmila Pavlichenko (Wikipedia), Vitka Kempner (Wikipedia), and Virginia Hall (Wikipedia). I’m going to toss in the official synopsis of Queen Elizabeth II’s involvement in her own military to round things out (The Royal Family), complete with a picture of her in uniform (Wikipedia).

Many women after the war went back to strictly domestic duties, and I think that parallels their wartime efforts - both situations are of the “all hands on deck” type, but the play of gender roles here means that the duties of a functioning society are divvied up by different functional spheres - and make no mistake, men and women relied on each other equally as much to cover the gaps, despite the sexism inherent in modern Western society. The difference between war and non-war time cultures was that the latter wasn’t necessarily cultivated by patriotism that could unite the different “factions”. The Oxford Research Encyclopedia of American History gives a thorough examination of this topic.

The following era - typified by the birth of the Baby Boomer generation - saw a marked increase in economic prosperity (Wikipedia). With that came increased social mobility for women (Citation 1), usually catalyzed by the actions of their fathers (Citation 2). This may typically be achieved by consistent, conscientious public policy formation (Citation 3). In short, many cultures - if they haven’t already - are realizing that it’s good for business to let women control how they participate in society and the flow of money.

In the US, this was precipitated by the boom of social development (American History; archived version). Aside from the Truman administration negotiating price fixing to prevent inflation, a significant factor was the passing of the Servicemen’s Readjustment Act of 1944 (AKA the G.I. Bill). This primarily benefited the Greatest Generation, though other pertinent legislation by the 79th Congress benefited the Silent Generation onwards: the Fair Deal, Revenue Act of 1948, Taft-Hartley Act, Employment Act of 1946, National School Lunch Act, and Hobbs Act.

It’s debatable how well this impacted long-term economic development, considering the almost immediate rise of McCarthyism in the US in 1947, which was heavily intertwined with the Truman Doctrine that precipitated the Cold War. The results of the war, at least economically, were… mixed (Wikipedia 1, Wikipedia 2). I have no doubt that this impacted the social mobility of women in all affected countries - which is all of them, but I’m sure hairs could be split on this if you wish.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s tackle the Amazons.

The modern, popular interpretation (that is slow to be shaken by archaeological evidence) is mostly mythological (Wikipedia). While some ideas are thrown in the way of a Minoan Crete ancestry to the myth, there are more similarities drawn to the Scythian and Samartian cultures on the Eurasian Steppe (CNET). It’s possible that instead of the equally-extreme pole end of the gender dichotomy that is patriarchy-matriarchy, the Scythians just scandalized the Athenians with a comparatively more fluid society (Smithsonian Magazine).

As for Valkyries… there’s been a revival of them in pop culture, probably as a net-casting to see what’s out there aside from Amazons. TVTropes covers the many, many ways media utilizes them as a trope, to varying degrees of mythological and cultural accuracy. As they state, valkyries are a form of psychopomp, as they decide who among the battlefield’s dead will go to Valhalla (ruled by Odin) or Fólkvangr (ruled by Freya). Freya seems to have assumed the “type” (as opposed to characteristics salient to a particular individual) of a valkyrie, as the female counterpart the warrior archetype. To wit, Freya herself may be a type (Wikipedia).

Here’s where the issue gets thorny - modern popular understanding of valkyries, and by extension Scandinavian women, is skewed through the modern lens.

@fjorn-the-skald has a lovely series called Viking History: Post-by-Post, or An Informal Crash Course & A Historical Guide to the Vikings, that typically focuses on medieval Iceland. In his post “Lesson 13.c - Women in the Viking Age, Part III: Were Women “Vikings”?”, discusses the particular penchant of modern times to romanticize and/or skew history to their own biases - in this instance, how medieval Icelandic women functioned in their culture, as well as how valkyrie myths play into this.

The TL;DR of that is: “viking” women were a societal anomaly, the battlefield was a male domain (and they were expected to die on it), a woman’s prowess of the domestic sphere was highly respected to a level often equivalent to men, and the domestic sphere was the sphere of commerce. Scandinavian culture prized strong women, just as they prized strong men, and their culture rested upon the concept of different genders having their own distinct, complementary, and equal domains.

Fjörn builds upon this history in an ask about gender roles outside the usual dichotomy of male-female. Valkyries, and shield-maidens, may be classed as a third gender in medieval Scandinavian culture, because women were temporarily occupying the male role in their society. While valkyries are of divine origin, shield-maidens are not, though they seem to have taken on a supernatural bent by performing feminine qualities while living in the male sphere (something that they can literally wear, by the donning of their armor).

That probably comes across as distasteful to, especially, a modern American perspective, but many ancient cultures are like that. There’s a footnote on that ask about links to a contemporary perspective of same-sex relationships, as well, to round out that talking point.

With those historical and mythological details discussed, let’s move on to magical girls.

Interestingly, the genre and trope derive from the American TV show Bewitched (Nippon.com). Its evolution reflected Japan’s changing tone about female sexuality, focusing on girls.  Magical Girl doesn’t seem to be intended to attract the male gaze in a sexual light - and in fact was generated as a form of female empowerment by by way of growing up (TVTropes), but it seems to happen anyways (TVTropes).

Magical girls, as a genre, originated in the 1960s - the archetypical Sailor Moon encompasses not only magical girls, but also the kawaii aesthetic. Kawaii, incidentally, followed after the magical girl trope, and plays upon women performing as girls in society.

As magical girls are intended for young girls, a demographic known as shōjo, it is considered a subgenre of the target audience. Please note that shōnen'ai (Fanlore) and yaoi (Fanlore) are also subgenres of shōjo.

For some context, the adult female target audience is known as josei, the young adult men is known as shōnen, and adult male audience is known as seinen. Many manga and anime are often misattributed to the wrong category, so it helps to know which is which, and why.

Kumiko Saito argues (through an unfortunately paywalled article that I’m more than willing to disseminate to those without JSTOR access) that magical girls reinforce gender stereotypes as well as fetishize young female bodies. She argues this point more eloquently than I can, so I’ll be quoting a few sections below.

Page 148 (7 of 23 on the PDF):

The 1960s “witch” housewife theme waned quickly in the United States, but various cultural symbolisms of magic smoothly translated into the Japanese climate, leading to Japans four-decade-long obsession with the magical girl. Bewitched incorporated the concept of magic as female power to be renounced after marriage, thereby providing “a discursive site in which feminism (as female power) and femininity has been negotiated” (Moseley 2002, 403) in the dawning of Americas feminist era. Japans magical girls represented a similar impasse of fitting into female domesticity, continued to fascinate Japanese society, and came to define the magical girl genre. In direct contrast to the American heroines Samantha and Jeannie, however, whose strife arose from the antagonism between magic (as power) and the traditional gender role as wife or fiancée, the magical girls dilemma usually lies between female adulthood and the juvenile female stage prior to marriage, called shõjo. In other words, the magical girl narratives often revolve around the magical freedom of adolescence prior to the gendered stage of marriage and motherhood, suggesting the difficulty of imagining elements of power and defiance beyond the point of marriage. In fact, these programs were broadcast exactly when the rate of love-based marriage started to surpass that of miai (arranged marriage),4 which implies that the magical girl anime, founded on the strict ideological division between shõjo and wife/mother, may have been an anxious reaction to the emergent phase of romance.

Page 150 (9 of 23 on the PDF):

The combination of magical empowerment and shõjo-ness framed by the doomed nature of transient girlhood naturally created ambivalent, messages in Akko-chan as well. In the societal milieu in which Japan was undergoing the politically turbulent era of Marxist student movements at the largest scale in the postwar era, Akko-chan’s super- human ability to transform into anyone (or anything) is quite revolutionary, implying a sense of women’s liberation. Despite this potential, her metamorphic ability never threatens gender models, as she typically dreams of becoming a princess, a bride, or a female teacher she respects. The use of magic is also largely limited to humanitarian community services in town. Akko-chan’s symbolic task throughout the series focuses on how to steer her power to serve her friends and family, leading to the final episode in which she relinquishes magic to save her father. Akko-chan embraces the cross-generic mismatch between the radical idea of empowering a girl with superhuman ability and the hahamono [mother genre] sentimentalism idealizing women’s self-sacrifice. All in all, the new setting adopted in this series, that a mediocre girl accidentally gains magic, became a useful mechanism for the underlying theme that the heroine is foredoomed to say farewell to magic in the end. This rhetorical device transforms latent power of the amorphous girl into the reappreciation of traditional gender norms by equating magic with shõjo-hood to be given up at a certain stage.

Saito discusses the thematic shifts in the magical girl subgenre in the 1980s to a more sexualized view, and the according rise of both an older audience and otaku fans, the latter of whom, she clarifies, make a habit of recontextualizing canon to categorize characters into stereotypes that are stripped of the majority of their original context.

On pages 153-154 (12-13 of 23 on the PDF):

The conventions of the magical girl genre transformed significantly against this paradigm shift. Both Minky Momo and Creamy Mami originally targeted children, recording a decent outcome in business and eventually leading to the revival of the genre. Because the plots are directly built on the genre clichés, however, the jokes and sarcasm of many episodes appear comprehensible only to adult viewers equipped with the knowledge of the Töei magical girls. The intrigue of these programs largely lies in the way they parody and mock the established genre conventions, especially the restrictive function of magic and the meaning of transformation. The genre is now founded on the expectation that the adult viewer has acquired a diachronic fan perspective to fetishize both the characters and the text’s meanings.

Creamy Mami presents the story of fourth-grader Yū, who gains magical power that enables her to turn into a sixteen-year-old girl. Yū’s magical power is more restrictive than Momo’s, for her superhuman capacity simply means metamorphosis into her adult form, who happens to become an idol singer called Mami. Given that the magic’s ability is self-oriented cosmetic effect and bodily maturation, the heroine’s ultimate goal by means of magic is to grow old enough to attract her male friend Toshio, who neglects Yū’s latent charm but falls in love with the idol Mami. The series concludes when Yū loses her magic, which correlates to Toshio’s realization that Yū is his real love. Mami’s thematic messages teach the idea that magic does not bring much advantage or power after all, or rather, magic serves as an obstacle for the appreciation of the truly magical period called shõjo. The heroine gains magic to prove, although retroactively, the importance of adolescence preceding the possession of “magic” that enables (and forces) female maturation.

It’s noted in the article that the 1990s-2000s period received criticism for showing a physical maturation of girls, so codified euphemisms via garment changes such as additional frills and curled hair were used instead. This “third-wave” magical girl challenged standing norms of its predecessors by doing things such as likening adult responsibilities (“childrearing and job training”) as a sort of game, as well as the transformation implying that the character’s power is in being herself, something that juxtaposes previous norms.

Due to shifting power dynamics and other changes in Japan’s culture, it became more common for boys to become magical girls as well, further separating the magical girl concept from a strict reflection of gender roles. As such, Japanese culture - insofar as my English-based research can guide me - no longer immediately implies a direct and distinct correlation between magical girls and the female gender.

An analysis of Puella Magi Madoka Magica (PMMM) by Tate James (2017; PDF) discusses an additional dimension of the magical girl genre. Two pertinent points of the piece is that 1.) PMMM dismantles archetypes pitting women against girls, and 2.) PMMM reinforces the gender stereotype that the best type of girl is a passive girl.

Now for the issue you’ve raised about who ought to be the primary caregiver of children.

Consistent, immediate, and continuous interaction between a mother and her child benefits both of them (Citation 4, Scientific American 1, Live Science, Citation 5, Scientific American 2, UNICEF, WHO). Mothers have a distinct neurobiological makeup that predisposes them toward caring for infants (Citation 6), and likewise infants have a predisposed preference to their mother’s voice and heartbeat (Citation 7). I would like to think that is sufficient evidence as to why nearly all cultures encourage mothers as the primary caregivers.

This said, cultivation of a father-child dyad is immensely beneficial to the child (Citation 8, Citation 9), and can alleviate the effect of maternal depression on the child (ScienceDaily). Partnered men residing with children have lower levels of testosterone but a higher risk of cardiovascular disease and adiposity (Citation 10). It’s interesting to note that higher prolactin levels in the mother’s breastmilk has a correspondingly higher level of sociosexual activity with their partner in cotton-top tamarins, which stimulates pair bonding (Citation 11), as well as in other species (Citation 12).

Paternal postpartum depression is recently recognized in fathers, to severe and reverberating deleterious effects on themselves and their family (Citation 13). Screening tools for detecting depression in Swedish fathers is not sufficiently developed, and many men may be passed over despite reaching cut-off suggestions in other criteria for depression (Citation 14).

It has been observed that while human mother and fathers have the similar oxytocin pathways, the exhibit different parenting behaviours when exposed to elevated levels of oxytocin - primarily that fathers will react with high stimulatory behaviour and exploratory play (Wikipedia).

Men being socialized in a culture of stoicism and an encouraged reaction pattern to violence have poor mental health that can culminate into death and other long-term effects (Citation 15). Suicide in the US is currently the leading cause of death at time of posting this response, that the total suicide rate increased 31% from 2001-2017, and in 2017 male rates were nearly four times higher than females (NIMH).

On the topic of magical culture: it’s incredibly difficult to research because it’s a component of overall culture, and one that’s not typically available to strangers/foreigners/the uninitiated. As such, a lot of authors default to what they already know. It’s not a bad thing, but if someone wants to reach outside their comfort zone, they’re going to have some trouble.

I’m going to go off the three, four-ish, cultures you’ve already come to us with: American, Scandinavian, Scythian/Samartian, and Japanese just to round things out.

For a very, very rough overview of America, we have:

Native Americans of the contiguous US

Hawai’i

Alaska

Whatever the colonizing peoples brought over (including, but not limited to, English, Scottish, Irish, Norwegian, German, and Italian)

Whatever the myriad cultures of Africa brought over as slaves

Hispanic

NB: I’ve put Hawai’i and Alaska as separate items because they’re not part of the contiguous US.

European settlers were of a few groups:

The merchants working on charters

Indentured servants from the merchants’ homelands

Slavs

Immigrants in post-colonial eras

This is an important distinction because 1.) contemporary culture matters a lot politically, 2.) how people came to the US determined how they and their family were treated, and 3.) the contemporary job culture determined their social class.

(Slavs, as a note, are the origin of the English word “slave”, something that Western Europeans historically liked to propagate.)

I’m not going to go into the details of everything the US has to offer in terms of cultural diversity aside from a nudge in the direction of Santería. What you pick up to research is up to you.

Scandinavian folk magic is known as “trolldom” (Swedish-language Wikipedia), and the region was known for their cunningfolk. Please note that klok/-a, klog/-e, and related words relates to the English word cloak, and these people are so named because wearing one was an integral part of how they interacted with the supernatural.

The InternetArchive has a book (albeit in Swedish) about the history of magic in Sweden, which is available in multiple formats. If you’d prefer to have something in English, you can either buy this book, or inform your library you’d like to them to buy it for you.

I’m a little surprised you hadn’t mentioned either the völva (Swedish Wikipedia, English Wikipedia) or seiðr (Wikipedia), as they’re quite a well-known part of Scandinavian folk culture. Fjörn, as always, is my first stop for this area of research, with the post “Lesson 7 - Viking Spirituality”, the Víkingabók Database, the tag of Old Norse words, and the post “Norðurbók: A List of the Tales and Sagas of Icelanders” as incredibly good starting points. I encourage you to peruse them, especially because the words you learn will help you be more precise during research.

The Scythian culture is quite far reaching, as they had occupied most of the Eurasian Steppe during the Iron Age, and much of this area can be found in modern-day countries such as Russia, Iran, and China, among others. Because of how far their peoples spread out, the Scythians intermixed with their neighbors, and as such there are sub-groups to the culture.

The Sarmatians were more Russian, as that’s where a large amount of their territory laid, and were absorbed into early Slavic culture. Both their and the overall Scythian language group is eastern Iranian.

In order to help you orient yourself, here’s a map from Wikipedia:

Description: Historical spread of Iranian peoples/languages: Scythia, Sarmatia, Bactria and the Parthian Empire in about 170 BC (evidently before the Yuezhi invaded Bactria). Modern political boundaries are shown to facilitate orientation.

Japanese magical culture is intrinsically tied to their religion, and as such it would be beneficial to read about Shintoism and Japanese Buddhism. The wiki for Japanese mythology is a thorough primer, though if you get stuck, then I’m sure @scriptmyth would be glad to help you on not only this culture, but others.

As for the jobs you’ve proposed - I’m going to jump right into scribes because the irony of that is it’s historically a male-dominated job, and is the progenitor of jobs such as “public servants, journalists, accountants, bookkeepers, typists, and lawyers”. It is, with even greater irony, European women that are noted in Wikipedia, and that medieval women are increasingly thought to have played an integral part in manuscript writing (New Scientist, Science Advances).

I’m not the best person to ask for medieval culture, unfortunately, so you’ll need someone more knowledgeable than me on the subject to direct you to the finer points.

The wiki for women in war links to a lot of lists, so I would suggest poking around for historical references by era (that will likely lead to by culture) to orient yourself on how women have participated in war in the past. There’s quite a bit of mythology to be found there, as well, so if you pick up some specific goddesses you get stuck on, then pop over to @scriptmyth.

Likewise, the wiki for women in government is an interesting read, as is women in positions of power. Since both are primarily modern-times oriented, I would suggest looking at the list of queens regnant for a more historical perspective. I would have difficulty giving you more than that, as you would need to pinpoint your reference cultures first.

As history often neglects women’s contributions to society if they weren’t a ruler or similarly powerful ruler - and, frankly, that frequently applied to men as well the further back you go - I’m going to toss a couple of starting points at you for the area of medicine:

Women in medicine § Ancient medicine - Wikipedia

Women in medicine - Science Museum: History of Medicine

One thing to keep in mind is that as goalposts changed for medicine - the standardization of knowledge and the need to attend a medical school to be legally allowed to perform medicine - the availability of women to participate went down.

Another is that medicine, historically, relied upon herbal medicine, and Wikipedia itself notes that there’s a heavy overlap with food history - something that’s traditionally a domain of women. This abstract by Marcia Ramos‐e‐Silva MD, PhD, talks about Saint Hildegard von Bingen, and the first page available tells you that medieval women were in charge of quite a lot despite not being allowed to participate in the male-dominated sphere of war. The Herbal Academy dips briefly into not only the saint, but other historical aspects of herbalism that might interest you.

The wiki of women in the Middle Ages, along with that of Hildegard of Bingen, nicely rounds out this particular topic.

I need to bring out the fact that Ancient Egypt was and is well-known for the equality and respect afforded to their women - in the interest of staying on subject, particularly in the field of medicine (Ancient History Encyclopedia). Isis was well-known as a goddess of healing (Wikipedia), an aspect she has in common with goddesses in many other cultures (Wikipedia). As an added side-note, Merit Ptah in her popularly-known context has been concluded to be an inflated misunderstanding - and misconstrued interpretation - of a historical figure with significant fabrication (LiveScience, Oxford).

The presence of women in medicine fluctuated in every culture, an in ancient times often shared some correlation with the use of magic (Citation 16). Healing, historically, has a high correlation with the supernatural - and if you care to look, women are usually responsible for the domain of the supernatural. (Or at least the feminine part, which was complementary and complemented by the masculine part.)

I’m going to hop back to politics real quick to bring up abbesses, particularly the social power they exercised as women heading religious orders. An article by Alixe Bovey for the British Library gives the TL;DR of medieval women and abbeys, though if you’d like something with a bit more detail, Medieval English Nunneries c. 1275 to 1535 by Eileen Edna Power is also available.

Abbeys, with their rise and fall, are important to modern American culture. Midwives, to be even more particular, have the most direct impact. In Western Europe, a midwife may under certain circumstances perform baptisms. This was a debated topic of its time, as baptisms were rituals of the Church, and the Church had strict regulations allowing only men to perform their rituals.

During the 1500s - and up to the 1800s, in some cases - midwives were defamed to be witches. You’ll notice that this corresponds to a standardization of medical knowledge, with its corresponding legal restrictions on who may practice medicine. For the Church, the politics playing behind the scenes of midwifery and female physicians fluctuated with their observations about women’s power relative to their own (Citation 16).

Malta is an excellent case study of this phenomenon (Citation 17), and encapsulates the movement of witchcraft accusations that took place throughout this period - something historians noted as corresponding to the rise of Protestantism (ThoughtCo). There’s some debate that the increasing orientation to wages in contemporary economy facilitated this adverse behaviour against women, as well as various other social pressures as politically mitigated by the Catholic Church (Wikipedia).

As the practice of medicine was segregated according to sex - male patients to male physicians, female patients to female physicians - there were proportionally fewer men in trades such as midwifery than women despite the medieval shift toward male encroachment of territory (Wikipedia). This corresponding money- and thus male-oriented intrusion into the female sphere of medicine can be seen with the invention of the obstetric forceps (JSTOR). The rising culture of appropriation constituted the witchcraft trials that, incidentally, influenced American culture during their colonization years.

A pertinent name to remember for American history of the witchcraft trials is Margaret Jones, a Puritan midwife and the first person to be accused of witchcraft in the trails taking place in the Massachusetts Bay Colony (Wikipedia).

The Salem Witch Trials, as an offhand note, could well be an anomaly due to ergotism (Citation 18).

One thing I’m willing to bend on - a little bit - is manual labor, but mostly because you’re describing something very similar to what’s already been invented: corvée labor. There’s plenty of other forms depending on what culture you’re going for, though unlike what you’re proposing, does not necessarily imply the direct and permanent subjugation of people.

I will absolutely quibble with the idea of “uneducated” labor equating to “less valuable” labor - universities offer non-vocational degrees, typically in the areas of research and/or religion, and guilds were created as a means of quality control (that unfortunately got out of hand and committed crimes such as rent-seeking). Women in guilds were a thing, vulnerable to the same fluctuations as their other occupations outside the house.

If we are defining “uneducated” labour as “menial” labour, then this set of occupations inherently varies by culture, as does its relative weight of importance. One example of this would be writing; it may be menial but important, whereas holding negotiations could be a “major” role but wouldn’t exist without the support of workers “less than” them.

Correspondingly, gender divisions may not necessarily mean an assignation of “lesser” or “greater” when compared against each other. In medieval Europe, at least, the creation of textiles was split along the general lines of spinning and weaving. Women held the former (hence “spinster”), and men held the latter. Spinning was often not formalized into guilds then, but it was an important cornerstone of the economy that could support entire families. A guest post on The Freelance History Writer’s blog seems to indicate that this gender division was due to influence by the Bible, which seems to corroborate with the history of both professions as detailed on Wikipedia - the further back we go, and also the less connected to Christianity, the more textile work women presided over. This granted them greater control over their presence in society, since the selling of textiles was useful leverage to support themselves and others.

A similar discrepancy can be found with agriculture. Hamer women in Ethiopia are traditionally the one to cultivate sorghum, a cornerstone crop to their diet, and they exhibit preferences in which varieties they grow according to criteria such as which is easiest to grind and long-term storage feasibility (Citation 19). Accordingly, there’s been an increasing orientation around the growing of crops rather than the pastoralist habits of their men, with trading standards occuring at one goat for one Dore (“pile of maize or sorghum”) (Citation 19).

A study examining the male sphere of hunting within a society discusses the various cultural implications of defendable vs non-defendable meat sharing, with respect to how the meat is distributed and its corresponding social range (e.g. immediate social circle vs entire community), something I find interesting given that the kilocalories obtained from meat is roughly equal to that of the female sphere-acquired agriculture/gathering (Citation 20). The division of labour along gender lines when it comes to food flow in a community seems, historically, to be both comparable and compatible to each other - a recurring theme with many of the topics I’ve already covered.

Gender roles in their historical perspective - especially the further back you go - are often complimentary to each other, and are an economical way to divide up the burden of maintaining a society to a functional level. There are plenty of exceptions to this (see: third genders), as well, and many cultures exhibit the idea that a productive person is good for society; their roles may look a little different from the person next to them, and not only is the work considered equal in terms of importance, but also with a bit of poking around, you’ll find that few cultures have harsh punishments for anyone “stepping outside” their predicted roles.

Men are already objectified plenty. That their treatment by society looks different than women’s, or other genders, is by no means an excuse to sweep things under the room and pretend that they have it best - or worse, purposefully ostracize them in a fictional work to further mock, ridicule, and isolate them. This contributes to the societal issues in your culture that you wish to address, and stems from a uniquely pervasive perspective from modern American culture that differs from many other cultures in the world.

TL;DR - The way you wish to objectify men is already being done, especially in American culture. It is harmful, and will have an impact that will reach further than you might anticipate. This approach is counterproductive to your goals, and the cultures/media you cite either directly contradict your beliefs of said sources or otherwise undermine your beliefs. It is vastly more productive to take a deeper look at the origins of the issues you wish to address in your writing, as well as the reference material that you wish to use. Learning perspectives outside your native culture will benefit you immensely, and the results could surprise you.

Citations

Citation 1 -  PDF - Doepke, M., Tertilt, M., Voena, A.. (2012). “The Economics and Politics of Women’s Rights,” Annual Review of Economics, Annual Reviews, vol. 4(1), pages 339-372, 07.

Citation 2 - PDF - Fernández, R.. (2014). “Women’s rights and development,” Journal of Economic Growth, vol 19(1), pages 37-80.

Citation 3 - PDF -  Duflo, E. (2012). “Women’s Empowerment and Economic Development”, Journal of Economic Literature, Vol. 50, No. 4: 1051-79.

Citation 4 - PDF - Crenshaw J. T. (2014). “Healthy Birth Practice #6: Keep Mother and Baby Together- It’s Best for Mother, Baby, and Breastfeeding.” The Journal of perinatal education, 23(4), 211–217. doi:10.1891/1058-1243.23.4.211

Citation 5 - Faisal-Cury, A., Bertazzi Levy, R., Kontos, A., Tabb, K., & Matijasevich, A. (2019). “Postpartum bonding at the beginning of the second year of child’s life: the role of postpartum depression and early bonding impairment.” Journal of Psychosomatic Obstetrics & Gynecology, 1-7.

Citation 6 - PDF - Bornstein, M. H., Putnick, D. L., Rigo, P., Esposito, G., Swain, J. E., Suwalsky, J. T., … & De Pisapia, N. (2017). “Neurobiology of culturally common maternal responses to infant cry.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 114(45), E9465-E9473.

Citation 7 - PDF - Webb, A. R., Heller, H. T., Benson, C. B., & Lahav, A. (2015). “Mother’s voice and heartbeat sounds elicit auditory plasticity in the human brain before full gestation.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 112(10), 3152-3157.

Citation 8 - PDF - Pan, Y., Zhang, D., Liu, Y., Ran, G., & Teng, Z. (2016). “Different effects of paternal and maternal attachment on psychological health among Chinese secondary school students.” Journal of Child and Family Studies, 25(10), 2998-3008.

Citation 9 - PDF - Brown, G. L., Mangelsdorf, S. C., & Neff, C. (2012). “Father involvement, paternal sensitivity, and father-child attachment security in the first 3 years.” Journal of family psychology : JFP : journal of the Division of Family Psychology of the American Psychological Association (Division 43), 26(3), 421–430. doi:10.1037/a0027836

Citation 10 - PDF - Lee T Gettler, Mallika S Sarma, Rieti G Gengo, Rahul C Oka, James J McKenna, Adiposity, CVD risk factors and testosterone: Variation by partnering status and residence with children in US men, Evolution, Medicine, and Public Health, Volume 2017, Issue 1, January 2017, Pages 67–80, https://doi.org/10.1093/emph/eox005

Citation 11 - PDF - Snowdon, C. T., & Ziegler, T. E. (2015). “Variation in prolactin is related to variation in sexual behavior and contact affiliation.” PloS one, 10(3), e0120650.

Citation 12 - Hashemian, F., Shafigh, F., & Roohi, E. (2016). “Regulatory role of prolactin in paternal behavior in male parents: A narrative review.” Journal of postgraduate medicine, 62(3), 182–187. doi:10.4103/0022-3859.186389

Citation 13 - PDF - Eddy, B., Poll, V., Whiting, J., & Clevesy, M. (2019). “Forgotten Fathers: Postpartum Depression in Men.” Journal of Family Issues, 40(8), 1001-1017.

Citation 14 - PDF - Psouni, E., Agebjörn, J., & Linder, H. (2017). “Symptoms of depression in Swedish fathers in the postnatal period and development of a screening tool.” Scandinavian journal of psychology, 58(6), 485-496.

Citation 15 - Pappas, S. (2018, January). “APA issues first-ever guidelines for practice with men and boys.” Monitor on Psychology, 50(1).

Citation 16 - PDF - Kontoyannis, M., & Katsetos, C. (2011). “Midwives in early modern Europe (1400-1800).” Health Science Journal, 5(1), 31.

Citation 17 - PDF - Savona-Ventura, C. (1995). “The influence of the Roman Catholic Church on midwifery practice in Malta.” Medical history, 39(1), 18-34.

Citation 18 - PDF - Woolf, Alan. (2000). “Witchcraft or Mycotoxin? The Salem Witch Trials. Journal of toxicology.” Clinical toxicology. 38. 457-60. 10.1081/CLT-100100958.

Citation 19 - PDF - Samuel, T. (2013). “From cattle herding to sedentary agriculture: the role of hamer women in the transition.” African Study Monographs, Suppl. 46: 121–133. [Alternate PDF link]

Citation 20 - PDF - Gurven, Michael & Hill, Kim. (2009). “Why Do Men Hunt?.” Current Anthropology. 50. 51-74. 10.1086/595620.

Further Reading

Harry S Truman § Domestic Affairs - Wikipedia

Marshall Plan - Wikipedia

Interstate Highway System - Wikipedia

Medieval Icelandic Law (The Grágás) – Women’s Rights: On Reclaiming Property during Separation. By @fjorn-the-skald

Fjörn’s Library

“Notes on Valkyries and the like?” by @fjorn-the-skald

Fjörn’s chronological tag on women

Epigenetic correlates of neonatal contact in humans - Development and Psychopathology

Feral: So, obviously, everything Tex just said- round of effing applause!

I do want to hone in on one specific part of your ask, “since part of my goal is to use the swap to highlight some inequalities that still exist in our gender expectations today by flipping them” and direct you to this blog post on Mythcreants specifically addressing the Persecution Flip Story and why it’s not a great idea from a social justice perspective.

Happy reading!

[beckinblack61]

One Year of Daily Blogging?

I’m watching the Unus Annus livestream right now, (may they R.I.P. by the way, hope I don’t fall asleep before the the end of it all,) and Mark and Ethan have inspired me to commit to doing something for one year in hopes of personal growth and to prove to myself that I can finish things if I simply put my mind to them (because procrastination is a b***h.) So... I might try blogging daily/online journaling starting tonight?

I don’t know if this is going to stick, or if at the least that this will stay on tumblr and not migrate to either a physical journal or something else, but I hope this will. I only started my tumblr account merely days ago, and I’m still unaware of whether or not tumblr is truly “dead” or not, as many people have suggested. I was half expecting that the website wouldn’t even work, so there’s that.

I have no plans for this. This may devolve into extremely stupid, short posts that I only make to fulfill my goal of journaling daily, or maybe (hopefully) I take this more seriously. Either way, here goes nothing.

Here is my last-minute idea of writing down my possible goals for this endeavor:

Improving my writing, vocabulary, grammar, etc. (I might pursue a career in English, but who knows as I surely don’t.)

Learning about myself/recording my advances in figuring out my gender, sexuality, identity, and other cliché things to say.

Helping my sanity through expressing myself during this pandemic and presidential election mess (oh lovely America, what a time to be alive.)

Mimicking Veronica from The Heathers (the first musical I ever saw, albeit illegally uploaded to YouTube) and having a “diary” so-to-speak during my senior year of high school. Maybe one day I can look back on this and laugh or cry or both or neither.

… And now my clock reads midnight. Staying up until 3AM is probably not a great decision, given I have a bowling match tomorrow. It’s not until 1PM though, so I should have ample time to sleep in. Sleeping from 3-9AM results in around 6 hours of sleep, which should be alright (although I know I won’t fall asleep that fast; I never can.)

This might not be the only thing I commit to doing for a year, as I have a lot of other ideas, though this is likely the one I am most likely to stick to. I would like to draw daily. I used to draw far more than I do now, which I regret leaving behind. I used to post my attempts at what some would call art on Instagram, which I quickly abandoned. I would also like to stay more on track with reading, another thing I recently have fallen behind on. My collection of the BNHA manga is staring me down from my bookshelf out of the corner of my right eye, alongside my book one of the newly released Fangirl manga, which I need to read soon to lend to my best friend that I unapologetically got hooked on Rainbow Rowell.

Is this getting too long? Quite possibly so. But if I stop doing something I fear I will fall asleep and miss the end of Unus Annus, so I will continue.

Let me get some things off of my chest to start, as I plan on being brutally honest to myself here as an outlet and to help figure out myself more easily. I may or may not be doing so as also inspired by Symptoms of Being Human by Jeff Garvin. I highly recommend you read the book if you are in need of some new literature to feed on. That book likely opened my eyes to my own gender exploration.

But as I was saying, about getting things off of my chest. I currently identify as genderqueer, under the non-binary umbrella. I’m fairly unsure of my gender, and am open for it to continuously change, so I am inclined to refrain from labeling it. If I were to try and clarify further, I might go with demi-boy, genderfluid, or gray-gender. I think I lean more masculine than anything, though I’m not certain. I feel fairly unattached to the idea of gender for myself, personally. The lines are blurred for me as far as what it means to be a “boy” or a “girl”. (Side-note: I need an Unus Annus tattoo.)

Something that adds to this confusion is my sexuality, in an odd way. Is this TMI? I don’t know. No one is likely seeing this anyways. I’m either pansexual or bisexual, depending on your definition of either. I think I can love anyone of any gender identity, if I simply love them as a person. I may have a strong bias for men. And, I think I prefer the thought of a guy who refers to me with male pronouns? So who knows, I may be trans and also gay. Or entirely queer, both in the sense of sexuality and gender. I’m still figuring things out and may never will. Is that slightly terrifying? Yeah, maybe.

But, the catch is that I’m not out yet IRL. One person in my life, my best friend, knows I am pansexual. I’ve been considering telling them about being genderqueer and leaning masculine. I haven’t yet. I don’t know if I should bring it up yet? Because I don’t know my gender fully, I’m concerned about telling someone one thing and then deciding that I’m not that the next day. Is this technically imposter syndrome or something? I don’t know. I feel like I’ve heard somewhere that if you’re worried about not being trans, you’re likely trans as a comfortably cisgender person wouldn’t be worried about not being trans. Who knows if that’s true.

So. I’m genderqueer and bi/pan and in the closet basically about all of it to basically everyone. Lovely.

Also, as you could probably guess, Briar is a name I only recently chose to go by. Recently meaning in the past few days. I hope Briar leans masculine, though I’m unsure of whether it truly does or not. I just think it fits me better. I’m AFAB (assigned female at birth.) Only some of my social medias have received the name change: my Instagram, my Reddit, and my Pinterest. My Instagram technically hasn’t fully been changed yet, as I am currently locked from changing my name for 2 weeks for no reason, but my technical username has changed. I need to change my google account name, but, being tied to my YouTube, which my brother is subscribed to, I don’t want to set off any possible alarms just yet.

Why “BriarInBlack61″ then? Well, black is one of, if not my only, favorite color. It makes up the majority of my closet. (Yes, so originally edgy, I know.) The number 61 is in reference to what is arguably the best chapter of Carry On by Rainbow Rowell, another book I highly suggest you read. Carry On is likely my favorite book I’ve ever read. I adore Simon and Baz with all of my heart and am very curious as to what Anyway The Wind Blows brings.

Again, I apologize for the length of this post. Alas, it has only reached 1:19AM now. Should I retire this post?

I probably should, in hopes of leaving something to elaborate on tomorrow. Good day or good night to whoever has stumbled upon this book of a post. May I hopefully not fall to sleep before 3.

Sincerely, 

               Briar

Saturday, November 14, 2020, 1:26 AM