#but it's missing the point which is that for much of history education was not done in classrooms in this way

[hopeheartfilia]

ive been switching lanes waaay too fast this week. Anyway having some mini identity crisises over how little i actually understood about nuclear fusion

[advancedscurvy]

i still want to tear my hair out thinking about how hard it is to escape the like. "boarding school/university" for magic sort of vibe when youre trying to functionally create a fantasy world from a time period where things like that weren't common practice. witch hat atelier (shirohama kamome guide me) does it well by using a guild/tradesman and apprentice approach and i like. like more power to her. but as i dabble in the concept of monastic/abbey styled situations alongside this, it's like. you start realizing how firmly entrenched magic school is in the public fantasy conscience

[heritageposts]

What does life in North Korea look like outside of Pyongyang? 🇰🇵

Hey, I'm back again with a very scary "tankie" post that asks you to think of North Koreans as people, and to consider their country not as a cartoonish dystopia, but as a nation that, like any other place on earth, has culture, traditions, and history.

Below is a collection of pictures from various cities and places in North Korea, along with a brief dive into some of the historical events that informs life in the so-called "hermit kingdom."

Warning: very long post

Kaesong, the historic city

Beginning this post with Kaesong, one of the oldest cities in Korea. It's also one of the few major cities in the DPRK (i.e. "North Korea") that was not completely destroyed during the Korean war.

Every single city you'll see from this point on were victims of intense aerial bombardments from the U.S. and its allies, and had to be either partially or completely rebuilt after the war.

From 1951 to 1953, during what has now become known as the "forgotten war" in the West, the U.S. dropped 635,000 tons of bombs over Korea — most of it in the North, and on civilian population centers. An additional 32,000 tons of napalm was also deployed, engulfing whole cities in fire and inflicting people with horrific burns:

For such a simple thing to make, napalm had horrific human consequences. A bit of liquid fire, a sort of jellied gasoline, napalm clung to human skin on contact and melted off the flesh. Witnesses to napalm's impact described eyelids so burned they could not be shut and flesh that looked like "swollen, raw meat." - PBS

Ever wondered why North Koreans seem to hate the U.S so much? Well...

Keep in mind that only a few years prior to this, the U.S. had, as the first and only country in the world, used the atomic bomb as a weapon of war. Consider, too, the proximity between Japan and Korea — both geographically and as an "Other" in the Western imagination.

As the war dragged on, and it became clear the U.S. and its allies would not "win" in any conventional sense, the fear that the U.S. would resort to nuclear weapons again loomed large, adding another frightening dimension to the war that can probably go a long way in explaining the DPRK's later obsession with acquiring their own nuclear bomb.

But even without the use of nuclear weapons, the indiscriminate attack on civilians, particularly from U.S. saturation bombings, was still horrific:

"The number of Korean dead, injured or missing by war’s end approached three million, ten percent of the overall population. The majority of those killed were in the North, which had half of the population of the South; although the DPRK does not have official figures, possibly twelve to fifteen percent of the population was killed in the war, a figure close to or surpassing the proportion of Soviet citizens killed in World War II" - Charles K. Armstrong

On top of the loss of life, there's also the material damage. By the end of the war, the U.S. Air Force had, by its own estimations, destroyed somewhere around 85% of all buildings in the DPRK, leaving most cities in complete ruin. There are even stories of U.S. bombers dropping their loads into the ocean because they couldn't find any visible targets to bomb.

What you'll see below of Kaesong, then, provides both a rare glimpse of what life in North Korea looked like before the war, and a reminder of what was destroyed.

Kaesong's main street, pictured below.

Due the stifling sanctions imposed on the DPRK—which has, in various forms and intensities, been in effect since the 1950s—car ownership is still low throughout the country, with most people getting around either by walking or biking, or by bus or train for longer distances.

Kaesong, which is regarded as an educational center, is also notable for its many Koryŏ-era monuments. A group of twelve such sites were granted UNESCO world heritage status in 2013.

Included is the Hyonjongnung Royal Tomb, a 14th-century mausoleum located just outside the city of Kaesong.

One of the statues guarding the tomb.

Before moving on the other cities, I also wanted to showcase one more of the DPRK's historical sites: Pohyonsa, a thousand-year-old Buddhist temple complex located in the Myohyang Mountains.

Like many of DPRK's historic sites, the temple complex suffered extensive damage during the Korean war, with the U.S. led bombings destroying over half of its 24 pre-war buildings.

The complex has since been restored and is in use today both as a residence for Buddhist monks, and as a historic site open to visitors.

Hamhung, the second largest city in the DPRK.

A coastal city located in the South Hamgyŏng Province. It has long served as a major industrial hub in the DPRK, and has one of the largest and busiest ports in the country.

Hamhung, like most of the coastal cities in the DPRK, was hit particularly hard during the war. Through relentless aerial bombardments, the US and its allies destroyed somewhere around 80-90% percent of all buildings, roads, and other infrastructure in the city.

Now, more than seventy years later, unexploded bombs, mortars and pieces of live ammunition are still being unearthed by the thousands in the area. As recently as 2016, one of North Korea's bomb squads—there's one in every province, faced with the same cleanup task—retrieved 370 unexploded mortar rounds... from an elementary school playground.

Experts in the DPRK estimate it will probably take over a hundred years to clean up all the unexploded ordnance—and that's just in and around Hamhung.

Hamhung's fertilizer plant, the biggest in North Korea.

When the war broke out, Hamhung was home to the largest nitrogen fertilizer plant in Asia. Since its product could be used in the creation of explosives, the existence of the plant is considered to have made Hamhung a target for U.S. aggression (though it's worth repeating that the U.S. carried out saturation bombings of most population centers in the country, irrespective of any so-called 'military value').

The plant was immediately rebuilt after the war, and—beyond its practical use—serves now as a monument of resistance to U.S. imperialism, and as a functional and symbolic site of self-reliance.

Chongjin, the third largest city in the DPRK.

Another coastal city and industrial hub. It underwent a massive development prior to the Korean war, housing around 300,000 people by the time the war broke out.

By 1953, the U.S. had destroyed most of Chongjin's industry, bombed its harbors, and killed one third of the population.

Wonsan, a rebuilt seaside city.

The city of Wonsan is a vital link between the DPRK's east and west coasts, and acts today as both a popular holiday destination for North Koreans, and as a central location for the country's growing tourism industry.

Considered a strategically important location during the war, Wonsan is notable for having endured one of the longest naval blockades in modern history, lasting a total of 861 days.

By the end of the war, the U.S. estimated that they had destroyed around 80% of the city.

Masikryong Ski Resort, located close to Wonsan. It opened to the public in 2014 and is the first, I believe, that was built with foreign tourists in mind.

Sariwon, another rebuilt city

One of the worst hit cities during the Korean War, with an estimated destruction level of 95%.

I've written about its Wikipedia page here before, which used to mockingly describe its 'folk customs street'—a project built to preserve old Korean traditions and customs—as an "inaccurate romanticized recreation of an ancient Korean street."

No mention, of course, of the destruction caused by the US-led aerial bombings, or any historical context at all that could possibly even hint at why the preservation of old traditions might be particularly important for the city.

Life outside of the towns and cities

In the rural parts of the DPRK, life primarily revolves around agriculture. As the sanctions they're under make it difficult to acquire fuel, farming in the DPRK relies heavily on manual labour, which again, to avoid food shortages, requires that a large portion of the labour force resides in the countryside.

Unlike what many may think, the reliance on manual labour in farming is a relatively "new" development. Up until the crisis of the 1990s, the DPRK was a highly industrialized nation, with a modernized agricultural system and a high urbanization rate. But, as the access to cheap fuel from the USSR and China disappeared, and the sanctions placed upon them by Western nations heavily restricted their ability to import fuel from other sources, having a fuel-dependent agricultural industry became a recipe for disaster, and required an immediate and brutal restructuring.

For a more detailed breakdown of what lead to the crisis in the 90s, and how it reshaped the DPRKs approach to agriculture, check out this article by Zhun Xu.

Some typical newly built rural housing, surrounded by farmland.

Tumblr only allows 20 pictures per post, but if you want to see more pictures of life outside Pyongyang, check out this imgur album.

[liillyliilly]

No Free-Solo

kenji sato x reader words; 10021 synopsis; from high school on, kenji couldn't do it alone, especially not when she was there for him.

“You’re missing me with that busy shit. You’re missing me with your whole ‘I can’t come over tonight’ act.” Kenji sat in what she liked to refer to as his dungeon, his lair, his Ultraman den. His too large for life couch made of black leather was cold and the emptiness was expansive in his mansion. He wanted her near, he wanted her to come back.

“I really can’t come over, I’m helping out Ami with Chiho tonight.” She tried to let him down gently, but he huffed through the phone.

She wasn’t a nanny per se, but she did do a fair amount of long-term babysitting for lots of people, mostly for Ami, occasionally for other busy mothers. She had a certain touch to the whole watching and raising kids thing, entertaining the child while also educating them.

Chiho was snoring in her bed. Ami was out with her fellow reporter boyfriend. And she, well she was watching movies in the family room of Ami’s house. Drawings that Chiho had done were covering the walls, plenty of Ultraman pictures to Kenji’s amusement.

She knew the Sato family through a long-winded connection by friendship shared between mothers. Kenji’s mom was best friends with her mom. In terms of maturity though, she was light years ahead of Kenji even when they were in high school. Back in America, when life was typical (meaning lacking in Kaiju and Ultraman responsibility) and the LA Dodgers still reigned supreme in Kenji’s head. They had met for the first time right before her junior year and his senior year.

She would be the youngest junior at the school and he would be one of the oldest seniors at their Los Angeles high school.

Her mom had insisted they visit her good friend the summer before her junior year started, and that she would need to help the son out in adapting to American High school since they had just moved from Japan.

She was worried due to a potential language barrier, but her mom assured her that he would be fluent in English. But how would her mom know that? Her anxiety was off the charts. She spent hours studying basic Japanese, which she found was probably going to kill her, why a language needs more than one writing system was beyond her.

“Ah! It’s so good to see you, Emiko!” Her mom went in for a big hug, and the petite Japanese woman returned the hug with as much enthusiasm as had been given. Her mom muttered about the separation between Emiko and Hayao, and Emiko gave a strained smile, leading them into the house.

Kenji was lounging on the couch, which she soon learned that he loved to do, a tendency to sprawl due to his height and lankiness. He was switching TV channels, until he landed on a baseball game and committed to watching that.

Her mom ushered her over to him, telling her to make conversation and get to know him. How she expected her to do that despite not knowing him at all was a wonder. She didn’t suspect that they had anything in common, and with the zeal he was watching the baseball game, she also suspected that he wasn’t going to be a huge fan of her preference for movies and shows over sports.

So she mustered up a greeting in Japanese from a textbook she had picked up. She had missed the way his eyes glinted with amusement, it was at that moment he decided to play just a small inconsequential game. A game where he pretended he didn’t know any English.

He responded in Japanese, and she realized she really knew nothing at all about Japanese. He sat up and patted the seat next to him. The moms left the main living space in favor of drinking some tea upstairs on a balcony, leaving her alone and incapable of communicating.

Pointing to herself, she said her name with a forced smile. He said ‘Kenji’ while pointing to himself and saying a variety of other words that she had no idea meant anything at all. At least Japanese sounded pretty, so she started thinking about the linguistic history and design of the syllables. He waved a hand in front of her face and she snapped out of her mini history lesson to herself.

Pushing his joke a little further, he used his head to point to a door near the stairs. She raised an eyebrow. He spoke for a few more moments, and she could only stiffly smile and nod in return. When he grabbed her hand and went to the door she thought she was going to die.

Inside the door was his room, and she really thought that this was the end of her sanity, her childhood, her innocence. She had fandangled herself into an intimate relationship with someone who didn’t even speak English and her heart was going to burst at the seams. Trying to recall all the words she had memorized, she was mad that she never learned the words for; no, stop, or I’ll kill you.

It was when she began to slink towards the door and hold her arms across her body in a cross shape that he realized maybe he should drop the joke. Her ears seemed like they were burning and her breathing had increased to a mile a minute in pace.

“Relax, I just wanted to show you my baseball cards.” He held up a binder and opened it to reveal a collection of player cards double sleeved and tucked neatly into a sheet protector.

“I thought you didn’t speak any English!” She frowned and put a hand to her heart. He laughed and she realized she had fallen for a trick.

“My bad.” He holds his hands together and puts them up near his head with a slight bow to apologize. Kenji pushes his bangs back and licks his top row of teeth, “Do you know if our school has a baseball team?” He asks.

She nods. “We’re in the top bracket for playing, it’s super hard to get onto the team though, my friend tried-”

He raised a hand to get her to stop speaking, then he informed her of his inherent athletic prowess, “Believe me, I’ll get onto the team.”

And he had. He’d even qualified to play on the varsity team.

A few months into the school year, while she was eating in the library with some friends, Kenji came bustling into the open space with his pack of baseball players. They always tagged along behind him, treating him like some sort of fancy foreign exchange kid, which she realized was exactly the situation and so her mental analogy didn’t end up working out and she clicked her teeth.

But the majority of white boys at the school did tend to lean a little too hard into the racial stereotypes and unfunny jokes. All Kenji could do sometimes was purse his lips and keep eating his natto. They thought because they had an Asian friend it was an excuse for their behavior, why Kenji never stood up to them and told them off was a huge confounding plight in her eyes. Kenji himself didn’t quite understand it either. Not even when they shortened his name into just Ken for ease and convenience.

Before she could tidy up her comparison and dissection of Kenji Sato, he was leaning on her desk, eating her carrots and searching for her eyes to meet him. He said something in Japanese, and she tried to remember how the words sounded so she could look up what he had said.

“I need your help.” He stole a bite of her sandwich, then drank some of her water. Before he even took it without asking, she offered her pastry to him and he ate the whole thing in one bite and mumbled a ‘thanks’ with his mouth full. He finished chewing and swallowing.

“I need you to pretend to date me so I can get these guys off my back.” He stuck his thumb in the direction of his teammates.

“Absolutely not. No way in hell, Kenji.” She started to pack up her bag, but he just put his hand on her bag and pressed it hard against the desk. With his other hand he gently grabbed her by the chin, and tilted her face up to his. Inches away. Her eyes went wide.

“Pretty please?” He licked his lips and she tried to bring her own face back to avoid his tongue getting to her lips.

She thought about what her mom said, telling her to help out Kenji if he needed it. This couldn't apply though, right?

“I’m going to need so many favors.” She groaned, managing to get her bag out from under his hands.

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, ruffling her hair and heading out with his friends who began to goad him for keeping her a secret for so long. He had just taken her first kiss and it didn’t seem like it bothered him at all. She was too busy pressing her hand to her lips to even notice the way his ears were a scorching hot red.

When she went to research what he had said to her, she thought she must have misheard him because the proposed English translation was something along the lines of, ‘please let this work out in my favor’.

Continuously, she called in favors, and he was there to meet them. Getting books off the top shelves in the library. Sharpening pencils when they were studying. Even helping her learn just a little more of his language.

“No, no you gotta give each syllable its own beat. Copy me.” Kenji went over the blended ‘r’ and ‘l’ sound that felt clunky in her mouth.

She did replicate what he was saying, at least to her own belief that that was her best ability. He laughed a little and she frowned.

“Okay, move your tongue a little, right behind your front teeth, but also not touching your teeth, just let your tongue kinda do the sound in the middle.” Kenji opened his mouth a little so she could observe. She tried again but it sounded even worse than the first attempt.

“I wish I could just move your tongue for you so you could get the motion right.” She looked quickly side to side, biting her bottom lip. Kenji backtracked immediately, “That didn’t come out quite right, I think that’s enough Japanese for one day.” She nodded rapidly and closed the journal she was using to take notes.

He said that they could go get food, she agreed and they got burgers and milkshakes at a run down family owned diner. He paid, despite her insisting she could pay for her own food. Saying that that was apart of the whole fake dating thing.

“You know, you do a lot of things under the guise of our not dating, dating thing.” She sipped her milkshake. Kenji took a bite of his burger, musing about what he would say.

“Well, we’re friends as well right?”

“Yeah, we’ve been hanging out since you basically arrived here. We’re friends, but honestly, we behave more like best friends.” She finished off her shake and cleaned up her area.

That was something he liked about her, her consideration for cleanliness and organization. But also her appreciation for others around her, cleaning up her stuff so that the likely overworked waitress didn’t have to. A person who thinks about other people. Now that was his type he decided.

“I’m happy with being best friends.”

In all fairness, he was probably the best fake boyfriend that a girl could’ve asked for. They had settled on knowing their relationship was best friends, but for others they had the additional label of dating. Sometimes though, he’d do something like grab her hand or wrap an arm around her. When those situations presented themselves, she always looked for possible viewers, his teammates. But based on her data, he only did things like that around 20% of the time when his teammates were actually watching. Meaning that the other 80% of the time he did the physical acts of affection, no one was around to watch.

While his English was practically perfect, he had the hardest time in social studies and history, so he got her help with his U.S. government class. He claimed that because he hadn’t lived here at all, and because he had Japanese citizenship that this class was completely useless for him. His defeatist attitude towards history made her roll her eyes at him.

One day, when she was intending to come over to help him, Emiko crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe as he cleaned up his room. He threw his baseball socks and jersey into the dirty clothes hamper.

“She’s coming over then?”

He mumbled an affirmative answer.

Emiko got giddy, saying she’d make a good rich curry tonight for dinner and that he’d need to tell her to stay for dinner. He gave a wave and kept picking up his room.

When the doorbell rang, he ran to the door. Emiko chastened him and told him to calm down. He let her in, and she greeted his mom, giving Emiko the box of fruit her own mom told her to drop off. He complained in Japanese that she always went straight to his mom instead of greeting him first. Emiko in turn smiled at her while scolding her son again in Japanese.

Watching the conversation unfold, she shrugged, Japanese was just not her strong suit.

“How hard is it to understand a constitutional federal republic?” She looked over his essay answer to a prompt she had given him to practice for his upcoming test. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, chewing the end of a pen. She was leaning against his bed frame, reading papers and marking up his essay with her red pen. Each time she made another red mark, he grumbled. Of all the people she had tutored though, his handwriting was the best.

“Correct these things first, and then I can edit again with my orange pen.” She held up said pen while handing the paper back to him. He just mimicked what she had said, holding his own pen the same way she had held up hers, even going so far as to bring his shoulders upwards to make him appear smaller.

In response to the insulting imitation she grabbed her notebook and hit him repeatedly on the knee. He let out a pained ouch, and she felt bad, so she put the notebook away and just patted his knee instead.

“If you really loved me you’d just write out the whole essay and then I could just memorize it and cross apply the right parts for the actual prompt Mr. Henry gives in class next week.” Kenji adjusted his body position, and her hand wasn’t on his knee anymore but dead center of his thigh instead. He smirks, and she immediately retracts her hand.

“Good thing I don’t love you then.” Kenji presses his hand to his heart and sighs, falling back into his pillow. “Just do the essay Jiji.”

He lifted his head and repeated what she had said, “Jiji?”

“Kenji.” She says his name and enunciates the two syllables cleanly.

“I like Jiji, I think it suits me. It’s a cute nickname.”

He finished rewriting the essay while she poked around his room. Photos of him with his mom and dad, which she already knew not to ask about because last time she did he went total silence for two weeks. But then he felt guilty about ghosting and took her out to get a sweet treat everyday after school for one week straight. Trophies from his old school back in Japan for his baseball achievements. Multiple MVP awards from the games he had played here.

The other photos that were in his room were mostly of him and his teammates. He just didn’t look too happy in those ones, so she tried to skim them, but failed. His teammates did their best to make him seem like he was a part of the group, but it just didn’t click all the way. Kenji always looked too serious in the photos, or it seemed like he was actually looking at the baseball diamond instead of the person taking the photo.

There was an adorable little figure, made either of acrylic or vinyl, of a little superhero with a red and silver supersuit and a blue circle on the chest. She picked it up and inspected it. What she assumed was Kenji’s name was on the foot of the toy. She bent the arms of the toy and moved it around like it was flying midair.

Kenji had completely paused writing his essay in favor of watching her dart around his room. He clenched his jaw for a second when she picked up the Ultraman toy, then eased his body language when she started making the toy fly around. If only that’s what Ultraman really was, just a toy. Just a toy and not an impending responsibility to protect and serve the people of Japan from Kaiju monsters. He wondered if she’d ever want to live somewhere besides Los Angeles. Tokyo for example.

“Kenji! Curry! Get the applesauce from the cabinet please!” Emiko called out.

She set the toy down and turned around, but Kenji was already standing right behind her. He had only meant to watch her movements a little more closely, but now this was entirely too close. He played it off like he was adjusting the Ultraman doll, smiled and then opened his door for her to exit and head downstairs.

When he heard the steps trailing down, he silently screamed and raised his hands to the sides of his head. Then he dragged a hand down his face and carded fingers through his hair. He envied the self he saw in the photos, cool and nonchalant.

“So, are there any boys you think are cute at school?” Emiko ate another bite of katsu that was drenched in curry sauce.

She swallowed thickly for a second, “I- uh, no. There’s not many good options for dating material at a hyper-athletic school.” She laughed to cut the edge off the conversation.

Emiko drank some water, but then prodded a little more. Kenji wished the earth would open and swallow him up.

“Not even at a school full of athletes? I would’ve sworn there were some good options for you on Kenji’s baseball team. What was his name? Eric? Eli?”

“Ohh, Ezra Johnson?” She supplied, eating some applesauce and then tapping her mouth with a napkin.

Kenji looked to her, then to his mom, then back at her. He was trying to stuff his face with his food so he could exit the conversation and then drag her and himself back to his room. She seemed insistent on blocking out the whole fake dating thing from his mom’s view and perception.

“Yes! He’s a really nice kid! He actually greeted me when I went to the first game. It was so sweet of him. His mom and I got to know each other a little bit. I can send you his details if you want?” Emiko grazed the back of her phone.

“No!” Kenji burst. His mom and his fake girlfriend both looked at him. “Uh, Ezra is talking to this girl named, um, Claire. Yeah, Claire.” He held his plate up and his mom nodded.

Rinsing his plate off he put it into the dishwasher, then from behind his mom’s back he tried mouthing to her so they could go back upstairs but she was too busy still talking to his mom to notice anything.

When she finally finished eating, she said she needed to go back home.

“What about my essay though?” Kenji rested his forearms on the kitchen counter while she was busy doing the dishes despite having to gently fight with Emiko about letting her even do the dishes in the first place.

“I gave you enough content to work with, just do the corrections and you’ll be good to go.” She bumped the dishwasher with her hip to close it, and he wondered what her bumping into him would feel like. And then he groveled a little that he wanted to be a dishwasher for even a split second. “I need to do my own homework now, tell your mom thank you again for me, okay?”

She rubbed his arm to comfort him slightly, but he took his chance to reach to her hip, tugging her lightly into him.

“What are you doing?” She hissed at him, trying to keep her voice down in case Emiko was still lurking around.

“Saying thanks for the help, goodbye, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He grabbed the hand that she had on his arm and held her hand for a second, then brought it up to his mouth to press a light kiss to her knuckles.

She smiled, then pushed his shoulder.

When she had left the house, he flung himself onto the couch and giggled a little. Kicking his feet that were dangling over the arm of the couch. His mom peeked downstairs to see Kenji wriggling around and muttering. She just laughed a little. Maybe her instigation had worked out in the end.

The next week, she was hounded by baseball players after school.

She kept holding up a hand to cover her face, but they would not relent. Asking questions about her and Kenji. What Kenji was like outside of school, outside of baseball. If Kenji ever stopped being serious and aloof for even a minute. At this point they were just crowding her and not giving her the space to breathe.

She kept giving short curt answers, tugging her backpack straps closer and closer to her. At one point, one of them stepped on her foot and she winced a little.

It was like some kind of sonar sensor, Kenji could tell something was wrong. When he turned the corner, all he could see was his girl getting cornered by a bunch of idiots who didn’t even have his best interest at heart. The only reason why he asked her to fake date him was so that he could get out of dates with the girls his teammates had thought would suit him. The secondary reason was so she could avoid his teammates entirely. But clearly, the second reason did not go as planned because his teammates were a bunch of no-brainers who didn’t even really care about baseball.

“Hey, let’s go, I’ll drive you home today.” Kenji stuck his hand in between two of his teammates, and she grabbed it, so he was able to pull her out from the crowd they had made around her.

He strung two fingers around her jean belt loop and guided her to his car. When they finally sat down, and Kenji had started the engine, she let out a shaky breath. He put his hand behind her seat, and then moved his hand so he could lightly touch the back of her neck at her nape.

“Are you okay? I had no idea they would do something like that, I mean, it’s just completely ridiculous. I don’t even talk to them that much, if at all. And they treat me like some kind of foreigner, which I may be yeah, but really come on. That’s just herd mentality to the max. Ridiculous behavior, so childish.” Kenji kept talking while driving, she thought that maybe he needed a chance to really unload everything and mitigate the tension that had built up around him.

When they got to her house, he apologized again. And again.

“Don’t let it eat you alive, it’s all good, no harm no foul, if it makes you feel better, they totally reeked of body odor.” She chimed in after he finished his long wind of apologies. “And, um, what time is your game on Wednesday? My mom asked, she wants to hang out with your mom.”

“And here I thought you just wanted to see me completely kill the opposing team.” Kenji tried to lean out of the car just a little more, but his seatbelt kept him from getting his head out of the passenger side window. “I’ll text you. Get to your house safe ok?”

To her house from the car was approximately seven steps. The smile she gave him wrinkled her eyes and creased her nose just perfectly. He slid his hands up and down the wheel, smiling to himself as he started home.

The game went perfectly, he stole practically all the bases, and he made two home run hits. And an LA Dodgers scout was there. Once he got the documents and the scout shaked his hand, he was over the moon excited to play for the best team in the United States.

When he saw her with her mom and his mom, he just couldn’t hold himself back. In a second, he was hugging her and ranting about the scout continuously just repeating the experience over and over. Since his mom knew she would have a hard time prying Kenji off of his best friend, she just had to listen in to what he was saying, and she clapped when she had finally heard it all, celebrating from just far enough away to let them enjoy the moment.

His graduation was boring, she sat with his mom in the stands waiting for him to get his name called out. There were a lot of speeches, and she recognized the valedictorian from various library encounters, but for the most part everyone was a stranger to her. Emiko kept getting a call from an international number, but she didn’t try to ask about it.

Kenji barrelled through the crowd of graduates to get to his people, his mom and his best friend. When he started to talk about what he was going to do over the summer, his baseball camps and training, getting to meet the members of his team. His mom put a gentle hand to his shoulder, and he furrowed his eyebrows at the serious environment his mom had suddenly crafted. She backed away a little, but Kenji grabbed her hand and shook his head, telling her to stay for whatever his mom had to say.

“Kenji, your dad, he’s, your dad wants to talk to you. He’s, he’s on the phone.” Emiko couldn’t help but stutter a little, unnerved with how Kenji would react.

Kenji shook his head no, pulling her closer to him trying to use her as a crutch to prevent an interaction with his father from occurring. She looked between Kenji and his mother for a moment. Emiko with her tightened face and hand gripping the phone tightly said more than what her original request was saying. Emiko wanted Kenji to answer the call. So, she in turn encouraged him to answer it.

“Jiji, just answer the call. It’s your dad.” He felt betrayed.

“I’m not picking up the phone, I’m not talking to dad, and I’m getting a ride with a friend.” He pulls his hand away, despite missing her touch, and leaves his mom and her standing and stunned from his reaction.

Emiko pulled her into a side hug. “Thanks for backing me, you’re much more mature than I think people give you credit for. I have udon at home, call your mom and let’s have a girls night. I don’t think he’ll be home for a while. I’ll let him blow off steam today, but don’t think I’m soft on him, he’ll have some hell to pay when I catch him tomorrow.”

Patting the back of her head, Emiko went to the small electric van. She stood for a second, thinking about the space Kenji had just occupied. Maybe the family dynamic in the Sato household was more complex than she had anticipated, Emiko seemed to still love her husband despite them being separated. Kenji seemed adverse to and angry with his father, but Emiko didn’t carry any slight of resentment.

Girls night was a blast, including face masks and bad romance movies. Kenji got back around midnight, just as her mom and her were leaving his house. When she left, he was the one who closed the door after her. He gave a short pained smile and a wave. In her mind, it was a win because at least he wasn’t upset with her for taking Emiko’s side.

Summer was hot and burned the apples of her cheeks, leaving both sunburns and memories in it’s fragmented state. Kenji was busy conditioning for baseball practically everyday. Somedays he’d invite her out just to watch him play, so she could sip some icy lemonade and sit in the shade instead of being cooped in her house doing whatever it is that homebodies do.

It would be deceiving to say that she didn’t enjoy just watching him play. The way his baseball jersey would bunch at his elbows and shoulders when he hit the ball. Or the way he would run the bases each time he missed a throw from the ball machine. He still needed to get a haircut, so his bangs would completely cover most of his face, until he ran a hand through his sweaty hair and his almost snake-like eyes would study her from afar.

The best part was when he told her to move her legs a little, so he could sit on the row of bleachers in front of her. Eventually positioning himself to settle in between her legs, resting his arms on her thighs and his head was leaning on her torso. Although his sweat would lightly mark up her shirts when his hair dripped from his practice rounds, she still loved to be there for him in this capacity.

Either he was here with her or he would be at the diamond alone and angry. When he came alone, he would throw his bat when he made a mistake instead of just brushing it off and doing a lap. Somehow, doing baseball training alone while waiting for official LA Dodgers’ orders made him all pent up and out of control. So when she came to observe, it felt like he had more things in his control, his ability to manage.

“How are you gonna survive without me next year?” Kenji rolled his shoulders before getting his water bottle and guzzling down the IV infused liquid.

“Well, as far as everyone knows, we’re still dating, so I’ll have another year of free solo-ing the romance world at a hormone ridden cesspool.” She slid her backpack on, ready to start the trek home.

Kenji slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, then quickly switched which shoulder his bag was on once he saw which side she let her bag rest on, so that their bags wouldn’t bump into each other as he walked her home.

“You’re not gonna tell people we ended it?” Kenji sucked in some air through his teeth, readjusting the bag’s weight placement a little.

“Nah, it’s just easier that way. At graduation though if anyone asks how we’re doing I’ll say you found a supermodel that preys on greenie Pro-Baseball players.”

He nods, accepting the route she was going in order to terminalize their fake relationship.

“I was a good boyfriend though, right?” Maybe he asked so that he could feel out the possibility of a real one, or seeing what he could do better when he finally worked up enough courage to ask her out for real and for forever. For now though, he knew that friendship would satiate most of his yearning for her time and attention.

“Comparatively, to what I heard other girls went through, you were practically a saint. I mean, you never did press me into a couch so we could make out. Ruby held that over my head for the whole year once her girlfriend did that to her.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad actually,” Kenji stroked his chin, “One last boyfriend duty for me to do before I get too busy, ya know?”

“Kiss me without permission and you're a dead baseball boy.” He held up his hands defensively.

“That was one time.”

“In the middle of the library, in front of a good majority of my friends, right after I had been begged to be a fake girlfriend.”

Kenji raised his eyebrows, and tilted his head, “I do not recall begging.”

“You definitely begged,” She clasped her hands together and turned towards him, pausing their pace on the sidewalk for her to parody him, “Pretty please.”

She fluttered her eyelashes and pouted dramatically.

He rolled his eyes and tugged her hands so she would keep walking.

The postseason began around October for Kenji, and he made his official debut into the stage of professional baseball. Around the fifth game he played, he snapped. And that’s why he was sitting on her bathroom counter holding a bag of peas to the side of his face, while she dug through the closet just outside the bathroom looking for a first aid kit.

The catcher had just stepped out of line according to Kenji, messing up his at bat routine with his comments about his age, his inexperience, his lack of genuine talent. The first punch was Kenji’s, the second punch was the catcher’s and it rocked Kenji immediately.

Tasting the metallic blood in his mouth, he was just glad all his teeth were okay. He did feel bad for going to her instead of going home. But he knew that his mom would’ve killed him for hitting another player. The only reason why his mom wasn’t at this specific game was because she had some research files from years ago that his father needed, so she was spending the time trying to transfer data from floppy disks to USB drives.

She should’ve been asleep, or studying for her upcoming exams. He felt like an inconvenience and like a child who was being coddled, but he did feel like he was being fawned over by her which he could live with. Even the way she had reacted to him texting her and asking if she could help patch him up a little. She had sent nearly thirty messages, mostly angry, but also laced with worry.

“This might sting a little.” She reached up and pressed a cloth to his lip. He lurched away from the disinfectant, and she almost fell over due to having to reach up to get to his face.

“Hold on, give me a second.” Kenji got off the counter regardless of her complaints, she stopped complaining and was silenced once he swapped their positions, her sitting on the counter and him in front of her with his hands on either side of her hips, placed on the edge of the counter. “Better.”

She hummed a little, pressing the cloth to his face again, he tried to not lurch away this time. She put some triple antibiotic ointment on his lip and temple where there were some cuts. Putting some small star shaped bandages on his face where the cuts were biggest.

“All done!” She put her hands on his shoulders and gave a big smile.

Maybe he leaned in, maybe he didn’t. But their lips were definitely touching. When she pushed him away he realized he must have made a fatal error. So he decided to play it off.

“Sorry, a little faint from the fight earlier, not in my right mind.”

“Yeah, you, uh, you were just trying to, yeah.” She chewed the inside of her mouth.

Kenji helped her off the counter, and walked to her front door, ready to head out.

Holding onto the door, she stuck her head out and commented to him before he got too far away from hearing distance, “No more fights okay?”

He threw her a thumbs up before leaving her house. When he was safely back in his car, he did something that was all too familiar when he slipped up around her, he silently screamed and gripped his hair.

Years went by.

They stayed close, and he made sure of that. Baseball was going great, but no championships under his belt. She had graduated college, working at an office as an assistant. She moved out of her family home and got a shared apartment with some college friends who also worked in the main part of Los Angeles

Then, his dad hurt his leg, and everything went to hell. Hayao had called, telling Kenji it was finally time to take the name of Ultraman. He now needed to bear the gauntlet, the responsibility of keeping his home country safe. His mom just agreed, putting her hands on Kenji’s knee. Telling Kenji it was finally time for him to go home and be who he was supposed to be. And he was supposed to be Ultraman?

Baseball was his thing, he knew baseball and he was good at it too. Baseball felt like home, LA felt like his home, she felt like his home.

On top of all that, within a week of his father’s request and his mother’s urging, his mother had an accident. He had no idea what happened. Just that one day, Emiko was there and then she wasn’t.

He was depressed, and so he drank. His house was a mess. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink, he was wearing the same clothes from four days ago. His toothbrush had become unfamiliar. He didn’t bother turning on the lights, staying in the dark and sulking.

When her mom found out about Emiko’s disappearance and presumed death, she called her daughter and told her to check in on Kenji. He had been distant lately, and she knew that the distance was a result of his grief. Her stomach twisted into knots, and she realized she hadn’t reached out to him in a few weeks.

His front door was locked, she had a basket of fruit and a stack of tupperwares filled with lunches and dinners for an entire week. She tried to think about what food were both comforting and had a lot of protein, so she made a variety of pasta dishes with extra meat.

“Kenji?” She knocked repeatedly, checking her phone only to see that her messages had been left on read. She called out for him again, knocking harder. “I know you’re in there Jiji.”

Opening the door made her grasp the gravity of the situation he was in. His hair was covering his face, he seemed to have recoiled into himself, wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt instead of his typical jeans and jersey thrown over a solid color tee. He smelled too, not of his usual mintiness and clean linen, but of all and any sort of alcohol. With eye bags darker than dirt, and hollow looking features, he just left the door open as he lurked back into his blacked out house.

Setting her gifts on his kitchen counter, she turned on the lights, and got to work. First the dishes, and then she picked up all the clothing and started a load of laundry. She made him a plate of the food she had brought, and a big glass of water and some Advil for the inevitable hangover he would have.

Lying on the couch, Kenji played with the hem of his sweatshirt. He tried to take another sip straight from a bottle of red wine when she stole it out of his hands. Whining, he told her to give it back and turn the lights off. She clicked her tongue.

“Eat this,” she handed him the plate, “Drink this,” she sat the water and pill on the coffee table. She tapped her foot, her arms folded in front of her chest. He groaned but did as told.

Satisfied with his actions, she dragged him upstairs and told him to take a shower. Hearing the water running, she looked around his room and cleaned it up. His passport, along with a one way ticket to Tokyo for one month out, was on the floor, covered by blankets that were strewn around. Opened letters were lying on the floor as well, pictures and clippings of ‘Kaiju’ attacks in Japan. Maybe she needed to brush up on her international news instead of staying in her little bubble.

Coming out of the shower with baggy clothes on, he dried his hair with a small towel.

“What are you doing?” He saw her holding the letters his dad had sent. He reached out for them, but she held them back and to her chest.

“What are Kaiju?”

Soon, he was sitting on his bed with her as well. He had the Ultraman doll in his left hand and a stuffed animal that she had given him some years ago in his right hand.

“Basically, I’m this, by blood,” He shook the Ultraman doll, “And I’m supposed to fight these back home. Since my father can’t anymore.” Laughing slightly, he slammed Ultraman into the stuffie repeatedly.

Her eyes were wide. She may not have understood everything about what he was, or what he was supposed to be doing, but she knew it was important to him to some degree. It was irrelevant that his dad needed him, the only thing he cared about was that his mom had asked him to take the step to become something he wasn’t sure of.

But the idea that her best friend was going to be a superhero? That he could change into some kind of robotic monster slayer? She had to disconnect a little from reality just to process the whole thing.

Suddenly, he thought of something that could possibly get him out of his funk. Something that could make his time in Tokyo, living an entirely new life bearable.

“There’s some extra rooms at the place I’ll be living in. I know that you want to go to some kind of graduate school. There are really good graduate schools in Tokyo.” He scratched the back of his head, if she said yes, then he would be truly mortified that she had seen him like this but he would also get to have neverending time with her on a day to day basis if she agreed.

“I remember none of the Japanese you taught me, I’d need to get a visa,” She started listing off all the things that would keep her from leaving, “But, uh, I think I’ll go with you. Yes.”

“I can handle the visa thing, you’re just going to need to sign some papers and have an interview with some people, and you’ll need to wear a ring on your ring finger. As for the Japanese, I’m a better teacher now than when I was 18.”

Getting married was not on her bucket list, but at least she could get better tuition at her graduate school for technically being a form of naturalized Japanese national. Her mom was glad to see her living away from LA, and she was grateful for Kenji going with her daughter. Her mom just didn’t know about the marriage for a green card/visa situation, and honestly, she didn’t plan on telling her mom.

The whole flight to Tokyo she was practicing her Japanese with Kenji. For the first time in a long time, he was actually happy. Not ready for the whole Ultraman thing, but ready at least to leave home and be out of LA. Los Angeles reminded him of his mother, every street sign, every restaurant, the greenery and flowers, it all came back to his mom.

What he had explained to her as the Ultrabase wasn’t just some place that he was staying at, it was a literal industrial modern masterpiece of a mansion. The sleek design ebbed and flowed into the molding of the island it resided on. Ceilings higher than a museum’s, she traced her finger along every surface trying to soak in the elitism of it all. He reclined himself on the ginormous couch, watching her observe the surroundings.

To him, she was the best feature of the homebase. Where most things were cold and stricken with a detrimental weight of his responsibility, she was like a beam of no expectations. She gave him the space to just exist without pressure. That and she was always fighting with his robot assistant MINA which also made each time returning back from fighting a little easier to endure.

“Listen MINA, I just think that you’d be more effective if you were pink, also can you pass me my pencil case.” She was sitting at the kitchen table, snacking on candy and working on an assignment from one of her professors on her Master’s Committee. MINA used an extended robot hand to fly over the pencil case that had been in her backpack.

“If I was pink, it would detract from my integrated design.” MINA floats around her head, observing her completed work thus far. “Your work is completely correct, why are you changing the grammatical structure?”

“For the love of the process MINA, for the love of the process.”

Kenji just ate another bite of his New York Strip, enjoying the free entertainment. When he finished his meal, he asked if she wanted to go out for an adventure.

Matching helmets, black and gold design with her wearing one of his extra leather jackets just in case. For safety he justified. The cool Tokyo air felt even colder as they rushed around the streets, lane splitting and cutting in between cars. The headphones had built in bluetooth so they were listening to a shared playlist they had made. Blending rap, RNB, pop, and EDM crafted the right ambiance needed for a late night drive.

In some ways, Tokyo was similar to LA. She reasoned that it might have been the lights to a certain degree, but here, the lights were brighter and bolder. Neon signs and air pollution were the common denominators between the two cities.

He takes a corner just a little too hard, and she instinctively tightens her arms around his waist, tucking her head a little closer to his shoulder.

They end up taking a break for a minute, pulling off the side of the road to grab some vending machine drinks. Tea for her, coffee for him.

That’s when his watch begins to blare red. She fidgets with the ring on her hand, she didn’t need to wear it around he told her, but the cool diamond gem had grown on her. Just as a precaution if the case workers came around to check on their ‘marriage’, that was the explanation she gave to him for why she always had her ring on. They never talked about why he always kept his on too, despite interviews asking and continuously pestering him about the ring. The baseball world had just concluded it was either a secret wife or for the style since he never gave an answer.

“I think you have to go do your whole superman thing.” She pointed at his watch that he was trying to ignore.

Kenji groaned a little, calling for a ride so she could get back to his place. MINA had already gotten to them by the time the watch had started to blare.

“Ken, it is time to mitigate the primary conflict in Shinjuku.” MINA did a bow with their robot body. She tried to throw a pebble at MINA to test for reaction time, that being said MINA caught the rock. She shrugged.

Back at the dungeon, also known as the Ultrabase much to her distaste for a name like that, she was surprised to see an elderly man with a crutch sitting on the couch in the central living room.

He was watching a big hologram screen, which now clearly looked like Kenji (in Ultraman form) fighting with a pink monster dragon thing. When he got a particularly nasty body slam she sucked in some air through her teeth.

“Ahh, hello strange girl in the Ultraman base.” He circled her for a moment, his crutch slowing down his assessment of her.

“Ahh, hi strange grandpa in the Ultraman base.” She waved, and the older gentleman introduced himself as Professor Sato.

“Kenji’s dad?” She checked.

“Yes, I’m his father.” She nods, getting a glass of water.

When Kenji gets back to the base, that’s when things get a little crazy. What was once a slimy egg turned into a cute komodo dragon mutant baby. She was all over the baby in an instant, trying to get to know it better.

“She’s adorable. I love her.” She was tapping the glass of the containment cylinder, cooing at the infant Kaiju. The baby seemed to respond positively, making little coos back and stomping around a little.

Kenji just folded his arms and took it all in. He was still trying to get rid of his dad, despite his father’s willingness to help out. He just couldn’t balance it all without Hayao’s help, he realized. Especially when Emi needed more assistance, and help avoiding the KDF’s insistent attacks. She loved Emi, despite the Kaiju having the ability to totally crush her, Emi reciprocated quickly to her. Considering the contrast in how long it took for Kenji to demonstrate that his Ultaman form and his regular self were the same through systematic desensitization.

They became a family, even if a family consisted of a pro-baseball player, his fake wife/best friend, an estranged but loving father, a Kaiju baby, and a robot assistant.

A learning curve consisted of a lot more mistakes and complaining, but at the end of it all, Kenji had to commit. He was Ultraman now. He needed to protect Tokyo. At least now he had a support system he could rely on. Slowly, changes occurred with him. Putting others before himself, really truly thinking about life and the value of other human beings. The catalyst was a Kaiju baby named Emi, especially the way that said Kaiju baby loved openly.

The misadventures of raising Emi were wild and laced with KDF fights, but in the end, Kenji and his dad were brought together by defending Kaiju in a unique way. The monsters weren’t intentionally villains, humans had just made them out to be like that. That’s life though, people defining and categorizing things into concepts and schemas that made sense to them.

That’s what his dad was doing when he and Emiko separated. Hayao was trying to find ways to open human eyes to the world and beauty of Kaiju. Living in tandem with them may not have been immediately possible but why shouldn’t it be ever given a chance? Professor Sato, his dad, wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, he was trying his best to make the world a little bit better. Forgiving a father who he once believed left him wasn’t an easy road, but it was a path that needed to be traveled.

Saying goodbye to Emi was rough, yet, the Kaiju Island was close enough to go and visit on occasion. Baseball was great, winning the championship and going into a post-season diffusement.

Yet, Kaiju still came and wreaked havoc, and Kenji still had to fight and protect Japan. Even if that meant coming back to the base bloodied and bruised. She was almost always there, wrapping his arms in white bandages and wiping off blood with towels. Running ice baths and making cold soba noodles.

Which is what she was doing at this moment, rinsing the noodles in ice water and stirring a sweet sauce for Kenji to pour over rather than dunk his noodles into.

He was resting a frozen water bottle on his shoulder, hoping it would numb the pain, the Kaiju just had to try and rip his good arm off didn’t it?

“Hey, can I come in? Got your soba.” She knocked on the bathroom door using her elbow, since both hands were carrying bowls of soba with sauce containers precariously resting on her lower palms.

“Yeah, I’m wearing swim trunks.”

“Good because I’m not ready to see you naked, like, ever.” She chuckled, but pulled a chair next to the ceramic tub, breaking her chopsticks and saying a quick itadakimasu. He copied her, immediately drowning his noodles in the sauce she set on the edge of the tub. She rolled her eyes at his action.

He laughed a little, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, “What, it tastes better like this.”

She hummed an affirmative sound, but her eyes glinted with an agree to disagree conclusion.

The noodles had been fully digested, but she was still there, dipping her fingers into the water and making small swirls. The frigid temperature makes her fingers feel detached from her body.

Kenji lowers himself in the tub for a moment, getting his hair wet. When he came back up, she was pushing his bangs away from his face, smiling. Her hand stayed in his hair, brushing the strands away from his face as they dropped droplets down the back of his neck and then into the tub again. The ice cubes bumped into each other, melting slowly but steadily.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, uttering a few words, “Hot tub?”

She nods and heads out of the bathroom to get a swimsuit on.

The pool on the second to bottom floor of the base had an attached hot tub. He turned on the low lights, leaving the space in a warm brown shade of yellow light. The glass wall gave an outlook over the city and the ocean that surrounded the base.

MINA zoomed into the pool area, “Shall I put on some smooth jazz Ken?”

“No. Do not do that.” Kenji waved off MINA with red stinging his ears. MINA states they were just trying to speed up the whole process, and quoted one of her favorite phrases adding an addendum of MINA’s understanding and AI learning, “For the love of the process, especially if it's about love.”

The hot tub was warm, not quite boiling, but warm. She rested her arms on the outside ledge of the tub, looking out through the window. Kenji came to her side and replicated how she was positioned, before remembering that his shoulder hurt and gave out a small sound of displeasure. She giggled a little, rubbing the back of his shoulder where there weren't any distinct injuries.

“You’ve changed a lot since we were in high school.” She closed her eyes and dropped her head so that it was on her crossed arms.

“That’s what happens with time.” He wants to ask why she brought up his self-improvement. But she cuts him off before any words settle in his mouth.

“Yeah, but you’ve made a lot of great changes. You’re actually friends with your teammates now. And you’ve taken on this whole responsibility for an entire country. You aren’t just Kenji Sato, you’re also Ken Sato, and Ultraman, and I like to think you’ve fully embraced your father again, and not to mention our friendship.” She looks up at the ceiling, “You’re like an actual adult now.”

“I’ve been an adult for way longer than you.”

“But not like this, like an actual responsible person. You can juggle everything now.”

She sniffles a little, “Which is why I can understand if you don’t want me to stay once I finish my program you know?”

Kenji grabs a hold of one of her hands, “What the hell? Why would you ever think I’d want to kick you out?”

She shrugs.

He continues, “I hate to say it, but I think you’re stuck with me. You know too much about my dark secrets.” She smirks in response to his teasing tone.

Kenji dives deeper into things he wished he would’ve said earlier.

“I mean, you already have the ring to prove it too.” Her mouth gapes open a little, raising an eyebrow.

It would be amiss to say that this wouldn’t alter everything, but it was time.

“I know that we’ve only ever been friends, but you need to know what I feel.”

“I think I already know.” She cups the side of his face, and he pulls her into him, and makes her face him. She’s sitting on the expanse of his thighs, and he looks up at her from how he’s leaning back onto the wall of the hot tub.

Wrapping arms around his neck, careful to not rest too much of her arm on his shoulder, she brings their noses to brush against each other.

“Mine now? Right? You’re mine now?” When she doesn’t respond he continues, “Pretty please? Mine?”

“I thought you said you never begged?” She grazes his lips with her own and he sighs with a light shudder in his chest.

“I’ll beg for this, for you.”

“Fair enough.”

He tightens his grip and pulls her flush to him. Angling his neck up and tilting his head, he kisses her. She smiles too much for it to be a proper kiss, but he keeps pressing against her mouth. When she stops smiling and starts responding with her own pressure of lips to lips, he has to suppress the hunger to bite her.

His tongue brushes against her bottom lip and she opens her mouth for him, he runs his tongue along the inner lining of her mouth before biting on the tip of her tongue when she tries to take her turn. He chuckles when she pulls back a little, nose crinkled and lips wet.

“C’mere.” He trails kisses down the side of her face, going to her neck and collarbones, glad that her swimsuit was low cut enough for him to graze the top of her chest, where the rise of her curves began. She just presses kisses to the top of his head while her hand tangles into the hair at his nape, twisting the locks into fake curls.

When their fingers were wrinkled from the water in the hot tub, they showered and curled up on his bed, watching a meaningless show.

“So, my thoughts are that we can just skip the dating thing and go straight to marriage since legally we already are.”

“My mom will kill me.”

“Good thing she loves me, just say we eloped.” He wraps his good arm around her and pulls her down to lay on the pillows. She snuggles into the silk blend pillow cases and murmurs a little, tired from a long day. He caresses the side of her face and rests his hand on her hip.

MINA flits around the base, erasing specific footage from the recordings in the pool room, for everyone’s benefit.

Kenji paced back and forth in the base, waiting for her to get back from babysitting Chiho, hoping that Ami’s date would end shockingly early for his benefit.

He’s still on the phone with her, “I don’t want to wait to see you.” He kicks a throw pillow that had fallen on the ground from the couch.

“Have patience, I’ll be back around one AM.”

“This is spousal abuse.”

“It really isn’t”

MINA chimed in and agreed with her, so she exclaimed and said that even a robot knows the truth that Kenji was just a little clingy.

“I think you should stop watching other people’s babies and come take care of your family. And by family, I mean me.”

“I know what you meant.”

He looks to the clock, three more hours of waiting would be excruciating. But at least she’d be back in time for him to wish her an extremely early happy anniversary with the new ring he got.

[mochinomnoms]

If requests are open...👉👈

I was thinking of a scenario, you know how Yuu was isekai'd pretty late into the educational track (US High School/UK College kinda late), that's a lot of years of basic education that their missing. I can imagine them getting tutoring from say, Riddle, Azul or even Jamil (though if you can think of anyone else in this scenario, go nuts) and he just...kinda makes a comment about like, "How can you not know about The Chess Wars, Yuu? This is Primary School level stuff"! Or something and Yuu just...loses it on him. Kinda in a "Do you have ANY idea how smart I am to be keeping my head above water when Grims dragging it down, I've got YEARS of schooling to catch up on AND my job working for Crowly!? Let me ask you about any part of MY worlds history and see how smart you are"

Or something. This has been an idea in my head for a while and words are hard today...💦

(I write NRC a college/university level so that's how this will be written as)

“This is basic history! Really Prefect,” Ace never failed to make fun of you, and lately he'd been focusing in on your abysmal grades. “Even Juice knows about the Chess Wars! And he's skipped like, all of middle school!”

Deuce glared at Ace kicked him out from under the table, though Riddle actually seemed to agree with him.

“I do have to admit, Ace is correct. Prefect, even students like Ruggie and Epel know the basics, this is inexcusable of a student of Night Raven College!”

Riddle had his arms cross, tapping a finger on his arm impatiently as you looked off to the side with a blank expression. Grim was, to no one's surprise, asleep in their lap.

Of course, Grim's 'responsibility' were the magic based classes. The Prefect had, literally, everything else.

“…Well? What do you even have to say for yourself?” Riddle narrowed his eyes at them, huffing.

“.....Back home I was smart, you know.” It was a soft mumble, barely audible, which made Riddle angrier.

“Speak up! You're not a child, you can enunciate—”

“—I was smart, Riddle! I was really fucking smart!” A sudden bang of your fists on the table startled the other three and awoke Grim.

“W-w-wha—wha' happ—”

“I had my school paid for with academic scholarships! I was awarded on the Dean's List for being one of the best students at my old university! I bet if you came to my world, you'd have just as much trouble, maybe even more!”

You jabbed a finger at Riddle, growing louder and louder in your self-righteousness.

“You don't know about the world wars! You don't know about our ancient history and gods! You're great at alchemy, but I bet you'd be getting yelled at by my version of Crewel for not being able to recognize the periodic table! I mean, can you even understand my position? Or do you guys just like having someone to look down on to make yourselves feel better!”

At this point, your voice was echoing in the library, the steps of the librarian growing louder as he approached you.

“You know what? I don't want your help, I don't think I want to even be around you guys! Not if you're going to belittle me for being forcibly plucked from the only world I've ever known into your shitty own! Deuce, I meet me at my dorm if you get tired from being around two condescending asses!”

Before the librarian could kick you out, you'd grabbed your things and marched out, ignoring his chastising as you marched out of the building.

Riddle was, of course, incredibly red. Though, his lips were pursed in a way that made it unclear if it was from his usual rage, or from guilty embarrassment. Ace looked baffled, clicking his tongue and pouting.

“Geez, it was just a joke…you know it was, right Deuce?”

“I mean, I kinda get what they're saying…”

Few wanted to admit that they did get a bit of satisfaction in being 'smarter' than someone else, and that you were the easiest target for that. Plus, no one wanted to admit that they forgot that you came from another world. It was a reminder that you'd have to go back eventually.

Gossip from that conversation spread like wildfire among the student body. Riddle was, of course, embarrassed and giving a gentle talking to by Trey after hearing about it from Cater. Though, he wasn't nearly as gentle to Ace, who didn't have the grades to back up his talk. Deuce did his best to support you in his own way, which was mostly sharing the notes and feedback he'd gotten from Riddle, at least until you were back on speaking terms with him.

Some of the other students started approaching you after a little while. Offering you a spot in their own study group, letting you ask the 'stupid' questions without those extra snide comments, though some of them have to remind themselves to shut their mouths. It takes awhile for you to talk to Ace and Riddle again, but once you do and resume your study sessions, Riddle is softer and Ace just a bit kinder.

[tizeline]

Hi, love your Au and your art!

Since the Drax boys have lived in the Hidden City their whole lives, they have a much better sense of community than the Donnie. Even if they aren't the most well liked since I assume most yokai find their views on human's extreme. They can still go down to a supermarket, a restaurant, a park. All things in which Donnie has never been able to do out in daylight. How would they react onto figuring out. "Oh, crap this kid is a socially isolated weirdo [affectionate]." Like would they do a montage of dragging Donnie to all their favorite places? Also, I imagine that yokai culture has different faux pas, any Donnie might just accidentally do something offensive, like how he did in Witch town by not collecting the worms right. Or he might accidentally do something incredibly dangerous like go to a place with gangs or go to Big Mama's and he'd have no idea because Donnie's not a resident of the Hidden City. Also, do you think Yokai celebrate Christmas or New Years? I imagine it would be very weird for Donnie to see people that look like you and be under the same category of 'freak' (in the human city) just walking around doing everyday things. Especially since Donnie's spent his whole life hiding, walking around and not worrying about if some human scientist is going to nab you must be world-endingly weird. Also, it would probably give Donnie hope for things he's never been able to do before. Make a proper friend group, own a home in a neighborhood, and go to college. All the regular teen things he see's people in the movies and April doing.

Also, something I've always wondered in canon, do you think Donnie has his shots? Since he can't access a regular doctor, do you think he's just like a carrier of every single dead disease. I assume he's probably immune to a lot of sicknesses because of how Draxum made them. But imagine Draxums reaction when he wants to get Donnie's medical records (I imagine Draxum is a stickler for health, shots, and Doctor checkups as a form of affection) and Donnie has to tell him he's literally never been to an actual Doctor. I imagine at some point he made records for himself, but that was probably when he got a bit older, so for the first seven years or so, Splinter was just hoping Donnie didn't come down with anything deadly.

I'm also betting that the Drax boys are a bit smarter than canon because Draxum seems like the type of person to do ZERO skimping on education. Like yes, Donnie's still smarter, however I do think they Drax boys are just smarter than canon, like they probably know high school algebra, science, yokai history all that stuff. I think it would be cool to see the boys reference a piece of yokai culture of history and Donnie just be like ".....what". I imagine it make him very mad to be out of the loop in any piece of knowledge. However, Donnie could make a human pop culture reference and also get the Drax boys confused.

LMAO yeah it's quite weird for Donnie to be able to just. Walk around in public without having to worry about anyone finding out that he's a mutant. It takes him a while to adjust to the fact that he doesn't have to hide his turtle-features amongst yōkai, he probably instictually keeps doing it for a while at first (keeping to the shadows and wearing clothes that hides his appearence, stuff like that).

His brothers are quite eager to introduce Donnie to all the cool stuff in The Hidden City that he's been missing out on. And while part of Donnie's difficulty with social interactions is just a symptom of him being autistic, him growing up so isolated definitely made things even harder for him. A lot of his knowledge about social etiquette he learned from like........ shows and movies, and I don't think 80s martial arts- and campy sci-fi-movies are the best teachers on how to interact with others lol. He had April of course, but she's one person and also kind of a weirdo too. And all of that just may have given him insight on how to socialize in human society, he's very unprepared for yōkai society!

His brothers really don't mind this, partially because Donnie's behavior is so similar to Draxum so they honestly just find it endearing. They also fully expected Donnie to have been completely traumatized from living amongst humans. The fact that he's (mostly) fine, just a bit eccentric, is great news to them! Also a lot of yōkai consider the entire Draxum family to be a bunch of weirdos too, maybe Donnie doesn't really fit in amongst other yōkai as much as he'd liked but he DOES fit in amongst his family, both the Hamatos and the Draxums! :]

Also LMAOOO- Splinter: "This is my son Donatello, he has every disease"

Honestly..... yeah Donnie kinda mostly relied on his mutation-enhanced immune system growing up. Donnie, being a NERD, might have figured out how to get himself vaccinated for at least some stuff eventually. I also imagine with Splinter knowing he himself is the closest thing to a medic he or Donnie were ever gonna get access to, he put in effort into research and other precautions to be safe. That being said, he's not an expert, and while I do believe the Hamato Ninja Training included some basic medical training like first aid and such, there's the small problem of both Splinter and Donnie both having EXTREMELY weird biology on account of the mutation, so Splinter kinda just had to guess a lot and hope for the best when it came to Donnie's health

Regardless, I absolutely belive that as soon as Donnie's relationship with Draxum became slightly less hostile, Draxum managed to convince Donnie to sit down for a checkup. And OMG Draxum being so concerned about his kids' health as a form of affection is both adorable and hilarious 😭

And yup the Drax Bros got a much better education in the AU compared to canon lmaooo (Leo still doesn't like reading books though). Donnie is still definitely the most academically gifted, but yeah his brothers of course are going to know a lot more about yōkai stuff in general, which kinda makes Donnie a little bit insecure. Specifially when Raph, Mikey and Leo start talking about something yōkai-related that Donnie is completely ignorant of, then that makes him feel a bit left out. Of course, then he, April will talk about something human-related and then his brothers are the ones out of the loop (aside from maybe Leo he knows quite a bit about human pop-culture)

[taylortruther]

also re: the racial component of TS/fan base, if you haven't you should watch Alex Avila's video on Taylor Swift, I think it was really well done

this is SO good. thank you SO much for this recommendation.

i really liked how avila noted how masterfully taylor blends authenticity and social normativity - "the reason taylor swift seems so authentic to young girls is because she's conforming to an image [of white patriarchal girlhood] that young women internalized from a young age." similarly, the popular feminism of 2014 (when 1989 was released) was flimsy and did not challenge patriarchal norms, and we see how she made feminism part of 1989's branding.

and he asks a question i often pose: is there anything subversive in idolizing the most popular cultural object? does poptimism (the critique of pop music as a serious form of art) simply reinforce existing power structures??

taylor swift and whiteness

understanding how someone becomes a legend and icon means understanding how they challenge, but also reinforce, the biases in society, which includes race, class, gender, and so forth. and "there IS something deeply white about [taylor's] image" (1:18:33). her image is cultural whiteness! taylor swift's relatability (which is and has always been part of her brand), her social capital, her social normativity, is directly tied to the neoliberal racial philosophy that, instead of calling whiteness superior, establishes whiteness as the norm (1:21:23).

millennials want celebrities to be morally pure. this is a mistake.

also - LOVE that he points out that millennials don't judge female celebrities by their sexuality or modesty anymore, but instead they judge based on political awareness, which is just another way of continuing the "patriarchal history of regulating narratives around women's actions" (1:42:39). avila focuses specifically on millennials here, cautioning us not to consider this a a sign of true political engagement from millennials. as he points out, systems of oppression adapt to our ever-changing culture. when we try to 'cancel' or 'hold a celebrity accountable' for their ideologies or missteps, sometimes it's because they're truly terrible, and other times it's because we hold women to "unrealistic standards of purity." ie, this isn't necessarily real political engagement, it is just another example of judging women. often it's both (pointing out missteps, and also being sexist.)

whiteness again

avila goes on to discuss how white women have long been held up as virtuous, moral centers of american families - and while this is a racist and sexist practice, given that woc aren't seen as virtuous, it also lays the foundation for why white women in particular dominate conversations about politics in the public sphere. it is an Event every time a white celebrity frames their political awakening as a personal, spiritual journey of self-realization. yes, this act is important, because women must learn about their own oppression, and talk about it, in order to educate others.

but when taylor (or any other famous white woman) frames politics solely through the personal, it relieves her of the obligation to critique systemic issues. her own political awakening is all that matters - she must prove her own political purity (instead of sexual purity, as before.) there is a deep problem in society demanding this, rather than larger systemic change, but we'll get to that later.

this personal political purity awakening earns her a lot of goodwill, but her resistance ends with herself. and this is a pattern that we see happen all the time, in what robin james calls "neoliberal resistance discourses" in pop: someone is damaged by oppression (sexism), she overcomes it brilliantly with an awakening (miss americana/lover/denouncing trump era), and she absorbs this goodwill into her brand. these individual damages and awakenings supposedly symbolize society's own awakening and resilience(!). (1:52:48)

🚨 some readers might be getting tired/annoyed at this; i can hear y'all saying "well, what do you even WANT from her omg!!!" just stay with me here. 🚨

she holds a mirror up to society, tho

what avila so brilliantly points out is that... this cycle of damages and resilience isn't helpful. it goes nowhere! and we are all at the mercy of the same patterns as taylor. it's not about taylor, it's about us, and how capitalism commodifies everything, including social movements! including personal 'goodness'! a neoliberal system wants individuals to care about their individual choices and looking like good individuals; it encourages the use of "purity tests" and "commodified algorithmic social movements" to discourage challenges to systemic issues (reminds me of the celebrity blackout situation earlier this year, and conversations we have about politics, well, daily on here.) and the pattern of a person failing politically as an individual is part of this machine. if we're too busy policing individuals for their purity, we won't ever organize together for shared material goals. unfortunately, unlike taylor swift, most of us are not extremely powerful, wealthy, and influential as individuals. she does have more power than us in this regard.

taylor as cultural hegemony

anyway, avila goes on to talk about how taylor had this musical renaissance with folklore, and became more honest about her masterminding her own career in midnights. she has shown herself not just to be a musical chameleon, but a cultural one as well, positioning herself as white teenage purity when the culture called for it (circa 2008-2010), neoliberal pop feminism (1989 -> lover), pandemic escapism (folkmore) - and the culture has become part of her brand, part of her music. music that is already heavily wrapped up in her own life. she is the brand she is the culture. of course she put the work in, and not just anyone could do this. but imo, her whiteness (which, again, gives her this "default" "neutral" background to work with) is part of this success. "sure, she's challenged the institution but all in the effort to become the new face of musical hegemony" (2:06:25.) she challenges systems to assimilate into them, or create them in a way that requires assimilation.

of course, this is all based on her REAL experiences, her REAL life. she is living her own life, and also living it in this metacognitive way that mirrors culture.

but we don't have to hate taylor, actually!

and MOST interestingly, avila closes out by suggesting: it's not actually super healthy to always be suspicious and critical of art (2:17:24.) yes, there is a long political history of "paranoid reading," of critique based on marx, freud, and nietzsche's philosophies. it is the basis of A LOT of our frameworks for thinking about the world, including art.

as i've said before, it's interesting to discuss taylor or celebrities because they hold a mirror up to society. but we can't just relentlessly critique ourselves - after all, the critique is supposed to protect us from being bad! the critique is what keeps us good! and it's why we project so much onto them (the celebrities, or "bad" people.)

this video dove into a term that may be new to a lot of people (i only learned of it recently) - "reparative reading." rather than relentlessly critique art or what-have-you, engage with it in ways that is "affirmative, creative, and caring." this does not mean you toss out critical readings - reparative readings can coexist, and give us hope, optimism, feelings of beauty/appreciation, and affirmation.

for example, it's why -while i enjoy critiquing taylor (or what she Represents) - i am also here to just... have fun. i don't want to linger 24/7 on her emissions, or what she hasn't done, or who she's friends with. it's also why, as a fan of color, i hate that she is often dismissed and minimized to "white musician making music for white women." i find affirmation in a lot of her music, regardless of her race; i find optimism and hope in the way women so deeply relate to her, and how queer fans (also like myself) relate to her! (which avila points out too 2:21:00.) it's why i stopped debunking stuff, because queerness - like any other aspect of the fandom - is such a critical, significant part of why her music is beloved. it's so important for people to recognize that she is more than just 'music for straight white heterosexual cisgender women.'

[ckret2]

CULT LEADER AT 14 ?? WHY WASN'T EUCLIDEAN CPS CALLED IM CRYING /Rhetorical, but I am genuinely curious. Kids/teens are smarter than people assume and his actions are his own, but he's barely a teenager at this point. Unless there's some law added to the story (which I doubt) the logical conclusion I've come to is that his parents just scared any case workers off lmao. The real CPS has a habit of being useless, especially in cases similar to Bill's, with little (or hidden) physical abuse/neglect. Also you can get them to leave by telling them to. Not ideal.

For the same reason the CPS wasn't called on Gideon for having a burgeoning cultlike fandom over his child psychic routine.

The CPS isn't called in over child performers—child movie stars, child TV actors, child singers. The CPS isn't called in over kid influencers on family vlogger channels with millions of viewers. The CPS isn't called in over child preachers, child healers, child psychics. Even when they really, really should be.

(There's been some high profile criminal cases over child abuse on family vlogs lately—but every story about a family like that being held responsible for abuse is a story about how long they got away with it without anybody doing a thing.)

Bill's parents did spiritually-themed speaking engagements. They started bringing their kid on stage with them—how adorable, a family act!—and he did a cute little child psychic routine, he could go up to strangers and tell them their names, he could tell them what was in their wallets, he knew details about their medical histories—sometimes details THEY didn't know yet. ("congratulations, do you have a name for the baby yet?" "a name for the what?" "whoops! ... do you want me to spoil what shape it'll be?")

What harm is there in a family that does public speaking letting their child join in on the performance? He's talented, popular, seems to be having fun.

They're more successful, they do more shows, he's performing a larger proportion of the shows. Well, sure, of course he is, the audience loves his parts. He's very charismatic. Charming, engaging, enthusiastic. Who would tell him to stop? He's so enthusiastic about participating. He's even started preaching some—very spiritual stuff, the details are a little muddy but hey, he's young, but he's compelling and it's clear he believes this stuff and he's doing such good work spreading hope and positivity to their audience.

He's missing some school to travel for speaking engagements, but hey, he's still doing well enough to make it to the next grade, and when he's clearly found his passion so young wouldn't it be a shame to coop him up and make him hide his light under a barrel?

When his parents are interviewed they talk about what a gift their golden child is and how they're awed by his talents and grateful to have him in their lives. When he's interviewed he talks about how much he loves speaking to audiences, making that little connection with so many of them, how he's so happy to see how happy they are when he comes on stage. He talks about how he'd love to have a radio show or do international tours someday. He wants to reach as many people as possible.

He's now doing the majority of the speaking—because he has such a talent for it, because the audiences come to hear him, because they like what he's saying and want to hear more of it, and he's eager to oblige.

After middle school they announce that he's "switching to home schooling" to make more time for speaking—and what's wrong with that? Lots of child performers with demanding schedules find creative ways to fit their schooling around their concerts or filming or shows or speaking engagements or whatever it is they do.

Anyone who's close enough to him to know he's dropped his education altogether is close enough to him that they're in on the con, so they're not gonna do anything about it. Who could imagine that a kid that well-spoken could be uneducated. Nobody in his audience is standing up to challenge the child psychic to prove he knows how to do algebra.

His mother dies, very tragic. The family withdraws for a little bit; then they're back on the road, saying that's what his mother would want for him. They do a brief little tribute to her at shows. He says that she's speaking to him from beyond. If you believe in the things he professes to believe, it's very very sweet.

If you don't believe, this is a red flag. But goddamn, "I don't believe in that family's religious beliefs" is NO grounds to investigate a family.

He starts getting combative with people who try to criticize him. That's not too weird, he's a teenager, it's not a sign of abuse, just immaturity. He can't always be the perfect angel he is on stage—and by god, if some snotty scientist is trying to undermine his spiritual claims, he SHOULD get mad! The kind of people paying close attention to him are the kind of people who believe in him. When he gets mad, he's expressing their collective righteous anger. They're on his side.

Rumors start spreading about him sneaking out to parties and getting trashed way too young. It sounds like a bunch of slander, it's just rumors, somebody's trying to undermine the reputation of this fine young triangle. Anyway, even if it's true, "nearly-adult teen is sneaking out to party and coming home drunk" isn't a sign of abuse, that's a thing kids do. That's a problem for his father to address, not the government.

Nobody outside of his immediate family learns about his uncle's death at one of his shows.

By the time this young triangle's dangerously incandescent temper has built up to the point that it starts to dominate his reputation and the public knows how vitriolic he is, he's legally an adult. There's no grounds for an investigation. He can't be taken away from his father, his father lives in his house. He's bringing in the money, he's calling the shots, and he has been for years.

So, take all that: "Why wasn't the Euclidean CPS called?"

Why would they be?

Even if they were, all a case worker would have found is a tightly-knit family that doesn't have a single bad word to say about each other to outsiders, and a home filled wall to wall with their son's accolades—news articles, trophies, pictures.

[felixtrash469-blog]

Professor Hatake x reader

Parings: Hatake Kakashi x reader

Reader Gender: They/them pronouns - AFAB

Genre: Smut - Minors do not interact

Other: University AU (Separated into years), Alpha Kakashi, Omega reader. Professor Kakashi, Student reader, Slight breeding kink, Marking, F/N (First name) over Y/N (Your name) used

Kakashi organized his papers that were strewn across the desk. He sighed, lining them up and preparing for the staff meeting. He made his way down the hall to meet with the other professors. Wandering in, only slightly late, he watched all eyes flick to him. Iruka gave him a disappointing look as he took his seat beside him.

“Now that all professors are present, let’s discuss the students. Is there any trends, concerns or issues arising?” Konoha was a small university, consisting of only 50 students in each year. This cohort of professors taught the 3rd years in their respective subjects, Iruka focusing on history, Gai in Physical education, Orochimaru in chemistry, there were more teachers, but he didn’t interact much with them. Kakashi himself taught biology, with a focus on how each of the different special gendered possibilities interacted with each other. A special interest of his was guessing which category each person fit into, Alpha, Beta or an Omega. Kakashi himself, being an Alpha could normally sense when other alphas or omegas were on heat, but there were no other known signs on how to tell in current research. His eyes swept the table, Iruka was a beta without a doubt. He’d known the man long enough to know he’s never gone into heat; he had barely taken a sick day. Gai was also an alpha, taking off 2 weeks every six months. Tsunade was… looking at him angrily.

“If we may steal just a moment of your attention, it would be greatly appreciated Kakashi.”

“Of course, the question?”

“The student F/N L/N has been missing for a week and hasn’t informed anyone. Do you have any idea of their whereabouts?”

“I can’t say I do, sorry.”

F/N L/N was an average student in his class. Not the best but far from the worst. Mostly came in and did their work before leaving for the next class. It wasn’t unusual for a student to take a day off here and there and not inform anyone, but a week without telling any professor was cause for some alarm. The students were adults, in their 20’s; by this point, they could handle their work fine. The greatest concern was that the majority lived alone and if they got hurt, they had no one to help them.

“Who has the least amount of classes for the day?”

Every professor around the table mumbled out their remaining classes. Kakashi was the only one without classes. Tsunade didn’t hesitate.

“Kakashi, come to my office after this meeting. I will provide you with F/N’s address and you are to go check on them and ensure their safety. “

There goes his afternoon. The one day he has a free slot to mark papers, taken by Tsunade’s wishes.

The meeting continued without further discussion on Kakashi’s behalf. There were no trends or concerns in his class, he wasn’t even sure why he had to attend these meetings. A better use of his time was to work on the next topic for the class.

Once the meeting had concluded, he followed Tsunade to her office. She shuffled around through the student paper, attempting to locate F/N’s file. She finally placed a file on the desk, a small picture of F/N on the front. He had to admit, if they weren’t his student, he would have found them at the very least, slightly attractive. Tsunade copied down the address on a sticky note, handing it to Kakashi.

“Just go make sure they’re okay. You can have the rest of the day off. Consider it a thank you for checking on them. Pack up and head over now.”

“I’ll tell you how they are on Monday.”

“Sure, have a good weekend Kakashi.”

Kakashi reviewed the note on the way to his office, it wasn’t far, a 20-minute walk, if that. At least he got an early Friday out of it.

Kakashi packed up his things, looking over at his half-written work. The work for the next lesson sat, glaring at him. ‘The effects of marking on Omegas’. An important topic for anyone looking to go into the research of alphas and omegas. Kakashi would have to finish it Monday, possibly read up on sources over the weekend to reference.

It wasn’t as if he had marked anyone himself. Most of the sources he read explained it as euphoric, a once in a lifetime feeling that could never be replicated. It was apparently something that came on instinct to mark when either the omega or alpha was in heat. Kakashi had specifically avoided that. He would never sleep with someone when they were on heat, after all, it could bring on his own. On his own heat, he would lock himself away. Marking was a bonded for life sort of deal, not something he was interested in.

As Kakashi walked towards his student’s house, he reviewed the topics he had covered so far. Most were surrounding the mating ritual research or lack-there-of. It was still so under researched. Lost in his thoughts, he had finally reached his destination. Walking up to the door, he raised his hand to knock.

There was a sweet smell drifting in the air. The smell was hard to explain. When F/N opened the door, the smell hit him like a ton of bricks. The pheromones of an omega, something he had smelt before but never this close. Kakashi could feel his instincts igniting at the scent.

“Professor Hatake?”

You stood in front of him. Your face was flushed and your lips looked unbelievably glossy. You stood in front of him in a long t-shirt and what he would hope was panties underneath.

“H-hello F/N. I just came by to check on you and make sure you’re okay.”

Your eyes looked glazed, and you seemed completely out of touch with reality. There was no denying that you were in heat. Kakashi tried to advert his eyes.

“’s okay, professor, you smell really good.”

You were definitely out of it and too far gone to think straight. Kakashi could feel his pheromones start to build as he stood in your presence. He had to leave, his heat would come on quickly standing in your presence and he could already feel the rush of lust heading straight down.

“Yes, well, now that I can see you’re safe, I should take my leave.”

You stepped out a little from behind the door catching his wrist. The jolt of excitement it sent through Kakashi was dangerous.

“Professor, why don’t you stay a little while?”

Kakashi looked at you, your eyes were half lidded now, a desire filled gaze looked down at the connected hands. You tugged Kakashi back a little, the smell from your apartment hit him again. He was losing all sense and allowed himself to be tugged into the apartment. He knew he fucked up when the door clicked behind him, but he had lost all will to fight against it.

You sat Kakashi on the couch, sparing only a single moment before seating yourself on his lap. Kakashi couldn’t stop looking at your face, your perfect lips, just begging to be kissed. Your eyes and the way they trailed down his body, almost filled with excitement when you saw the tightness of his pants.

“Forgive me professor, but I can’t help myself.”

You reached down, pulling down his mask and connecting your lips. The session between you two became a heated mess of tongues as you eased themselves to sit on top of Kakashi’s dick. He could feel your wetness soak into his pants. Kakashi grinded up into them, making you moan into the kiss. Finally pulling away for air, a trail of saliva connected your lips. Kakashi went straight for the neck, kissing and sucking on your sweet spots. Hands started to wonder and Kakashi gripped your right breast, feeling the smooth skin under his hand. The nipple was unbelievably hard for him, he knew you were horny, but he didn’t realise you were this desperate.

Kakashi broke away from your neck, seeing the red and purple forming where he had been a tad rough. He flipped their positions so that you were laying on the couch. Kakashi removed both of their shirts, finally getting the perfect view of your breasts. Kakashi didn’t waste a second, dipping his head to suck on your nipple. He reached his hand up to play with the other while you mewled underneath him. He could feel his dick twitch in anticipation at what was to come. He could only imagine the pre-cum that was leaking out of his throbbing erection. Kakashi released the nipple from his hand, chuckling a little at the annoyed noise you made. His hand trailed slowly down, slipping past the elastic of your panties. He could feel how wet you were for him. His hands hadn't yet found their way inside of you and they were already slippery with your arousal.

When Kakashi finally slipped a finger in, he heard a groan of pleasure. He moved his mouth to the other nipple, leaving a trail of saliva before slipping another finger in. He pumped slowly in and out at first, his fingers curling while inside, trying to find the perfect spot. That didn’t last long as you started grinding on his fingers, trying to gain more friction, more movement, more of him.

“Patience baby, I promise to stuff you full of my cock soon.”

Truthfully, it was taking everything in Kakashi to not just do it now. His heat response had kicked in enough that he needed to fuck you into oblivion but not enough to forgo ensuring you were prepped enough to handle him.

Removing his fingers, he scissored them, watching as your arousal connected between the two digits. Kakashi brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

“You taste so good F/N. If you feel even half as good, I won’t be able to stop myself from fucking you all night.”

Kakashi reached down to remove your panties, sniffing the pheromones off them before flinging them away. He didn’t hesitate, moving to free his erection next. He watched a little as you sat up, eyeing his dick as it sprung free. Kakashi removed the rest of his clothing before spreading the pre-cum over his length. He knew he was decently sized, a bit on the girthy side and he could see in your eyes the excitement build.

Kakashi moved his length between your folds, gathering your arousal before lining himself up. When he finally thrusted in, he lost all control. He pounded his way in, all the way to the hilt. He could just hear you moan mix with his own. Kakashi wasn’t escaping this, he was going to keep fucking you until he knew you were pregnant with his child. Until you were so filled with his cum that you became swollen.

Kakashi started moving and he was sure he was seeing stars. The way your velvety walls suck him in and clenched around him, the sound of your arousal coating his dick, creating a squelch every time he moved back in. He was sure this was heaven. Kakashi reached down to your clit, thumb rubbing in circles as you squirmed underneath him. The pleasure was almost unbearable, the mix of all the sensations drove him wild. When you reached up and dragged your nails across his back, his body reacted pleasingly.

Kakashi couldn’t stop himself from thrusting, pulling out to the tip and going back into the hilt. The thrusts were hard and fast. He used his free hand to pin your hip to the bed to stop you from moving. Your walls were clenching more, and he could smell how close you were to climaxing. Kakashi moved his thumb faster on your clit and when he felt your walls fluttered and clamp on his dick, the urge to mark you came. Kakashi had never felt like this before, he wanted it forever. He was so close to cumming, you were under him, begging for more, a steady flow of ‘don’t stop’ and ‘fuck me harder professor’ spilling from your lips.

“’m going to cum. I’m going to fill you up with my seed. You’re going to get pregnant for me. Is that what you want baby? You want to carry around your professor’s baby?”

Kakashi heard you choke out a ‘please Kakashi, fill me up’ between sobs of pleasure. At the sound of his name, he was cumming. He pushed himself in as far as he could go, making sure that his cum reached your womb. Kakashi slowed down slightly to milk himself inside you. In a moment of weakness, he reached up to your shoulder, biting hard and pushing out pheromones. He was still riding his high, too engrossed to care that he marked you.

Even after cumming, Kakashi still wasn’t satisfied. He was still rock hard. Seeing his mark on your shoulder only pushed to further his need to breed you like his perfect cum slut. You also continued to rock your hips against his, begging for a round two.

Kakashi happily obliged, fucking you again and again. Time wasn’t a factor of consideration, the only need Kakashi had was to continue filling you to the brim with his seed.

When Kakashi finally gained some control back over his body, it was morning. His mind was foggy and his mouth was dry. The nausea raised in his throat not long after, he struggled to get out of bed and make it to the attached ensuite. His legs felt like jelly, the only way he could hold himself up was by leaning on the sink. Kakashi dry heaved but nothing came up. Looking in the mirror, he had purple blooming across his skin. He had fucked up. He had royally fucked up. You were his student. He fucked his student.

The dizziness set in and he made his way back to the bed he woke up in. No more then two minutes later, there was a small knock at the door before it opened. Your head popped through. When you saw him, you brought a tray of food and water into his view.

As much as Kakashi was thankful for the water and food, he could see the purple marks moving up your neck from under your clothes.

“Are you feeling better Professor?”

Kakashi nodded, unsure of his voice.

“Can I ask a couple of questions? Like when you got here? Or why you came?”

“I came Friday to check up on you as you hadn’t been attending classes. What day is it?”

“Sunday.”

Two days. Two fucking days. He had lost control of himself for the whole weekend. He knew that being in heat with an omega could be bad, but he didn’t expect this bad.

“Um, professor? I have one more question.”

Kakashi raised his eyes to you, prompting you to speak. He watched as you rolled down the neck of your shirt to expose your shoulder.

“Is this a- um- a mark?”

Kakashi had severely fucked up this time. There was no going back. A mark. For life. The pheromones in that would make them bonded for life. All the research papers told him he would never be able to fall out of love with them once the mark was placed and the feelings grew. He’s fucked. He fucking came in them. How would he explain this to the school? How would he explain it to their parents.

“Professor, your breathing has gotten pretty bad. Did you need some water? What’s wrong? Is it a mark?”

Kakashi nodded. He watched as their face faltered before dropping. He watched as they went through the motions of acknowledgement, feeling everything in a mere 30 seconds.

“Well, I suppose there’s worse people to be bonded to, right Professor?”

At least he knew they could see the bright side.

“I hope you keep that same positivity for when the baby comes F/N.”

“The w-what?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: I was bored and decided to write this, I am getting back into writing after a 5 year break, so I apologise if it isn't the best. I appreciate all support. Requests are open if you did want to request something.

[andhumanslovedstories]

Hi Sarah (or Sara? I remember you discussing the h but don't remember which way it's spelled). I hope you're doing well on your break and enjoying September. I have a question - how much schooling did you have to do to become a nurse? I'm considering becoming an elementary school teacher in Norway, which would require me to go back to school for 5 (additional) years. Seems like a long fucking time and i didnt do great the first run tbh. It would be free though. Investment in the future seems like it could pay off, so i guess im looking for inspiration from other ppl who have perhaps made a similar plunge

Hi, anon! I wish I could give you some straight up inspo. Instead, I navel-gazed for a while. Schooling-wise, I already had a (completely unrelated) bachelor's degree so I was able to do an accelerated nursing program after two semesters of community college doing the prereqs. I did struggle in nursing school. College has always been brutal on my mental health and nursing is a hard pivot from my original degree (double major history and english w a concentration in creative writing) (you cannot imagine how many books I read and essays I wrote). It took a little over two years in total.

You don't have to don't have to worry about student debt which is so so wonderful. I didn't have to either, and that's let me be way more adventurous with my life choices. The cost of your education would just ("just") be your time, energy, and the potential money that you could earn by focusing on work instead. I had to stick around in my hometown instead of going traveling with Cyrus. I worked a lot fewer hours than I would if I'd not been in school. I had to miss the live airing of the Jesus Christ Superstar on NBC in order to study for an anatomy test which was genuinely so distressing to me. 2018 was a hell of a year for me. (I aced that test btw. It was such an improvement over my previous test my teacher emailed me a congratulations note with twelve exclamation points.)

All of this while people were constantly talking about how shitty it is to be a nurse and how so many of them leave the field within six months. (Similar to teaching in that way, at least in America.) I was doing work I didn't enjoy for a job I might not stick with. There were a lot of times I resented nursing school for interfering with my life.

I'm still very glad I did it. My degree gave me a lot. On the very practical side, my degree has given me more financial freedom and a much higher earning potential. On the idealistic level, my degree has enabled me to do work that I find meaningful. The work touches a lot of things that I find interesting. My nursing degree has benefited my life, regardless of if I stay in nursing for the rest of my career or move on to something new. I didn't like getting my degree, but I don't regret that I got it.

Maybe it'll go way easier for you, maybe it won't be worth it. When I thought about becoming a nurse, it felt like my life plan clicked into place because it ticked every single need I had for a job. I didn't know if it would work out, but the rewards outweighed the risks. More than that, it was the first plan I had for my future that made me excited. I liked the life I pictured if I was a nurse. I've found that excitement to be rare and precious. If teaching gives you that, I'd strongly consider pursuing it.

Besides, you can always use my last-line defense against school despair: being like "fuck it I'm gonna drop out after this semester" and then keep not doing that. You can bail on stuff! It's rad.

[bowelfly]

Honest question from someone who also dislikes "invasive species control that amounts to kill on sight": what do you suggest as an alternative control effort should I encounter say a spotted lanternfly or a spongy moth? I really hate just killing bugs for being in the wrong place. Thanks!

i honestly don't think there is much that any individual person can do. like in general once an exotic species has established in an area there's almost nothing short of a fast and concerted multimillion dollar years-long eradication program that even stands a chance of actually removing them entirely. and this is a rant for another day but generally nobody wants to pay for the kind of program that stands an actual chance of being successful. it doesn't matter how many concerned citizens you convince to go around smashing animals, if even a handful get missed, and many many more than a handful will get missed, the survivors can lay enough eggs and rapidly enough that the population will have no trouble rebounding. the way to eradicate an invasive species, when it's even possible, is through very strategic and large-scale application of pesticides, environmental control, parasitoids, and other integrated pest management strategies.

and that's not even mentioning that the whole smash-on-sight thing requires people to recognize the target and not just smash every bug they see which is also another rant for another day because you would not fucking believe how bad people are at identifying insects like i've had fucking crane flies reported as "murder hornets" (another rant). i genuinely believe that entomology should be a core primary and secondary education subject alongside history and math. the world is mostly bugs and it's important to know at least a little about them. without mass knowledge, the whole campaign just engenders a further generalized fear and disgust and violence towards all insects which is fucking nasty to me.

anyway i'm getting distracted. back to your question, what should you do if you encounter a spotted lanternfly or spongy moth or japanese beetle or whatever? report it to your state's department of agriculture if you live in the united states, or to whatever the equivalent is if you live elsewhere. chances are they're already aware of the infestation in your area but there's always the chance that they're not. with any luck they're one of the few ones that actually has the funding to operate a large-scale control program and are working on it already. again i'm very fatalistic about these things and don't think that eradication is possible in most cases by the time the exotic insect is discovered but at the very least it is often possible to keep the populations in check to the point that they're not an ecological/economic catastrophe using the IPM methods mentioned above--with enough funding. you can kill the bug if you want but smashing one bug or a dozen or a hundred or a thousand isn't going to do shit in the long run or the large scale and it's not the bug's fault that it is where it is.

[crazylittlejester]

You should totally yap about Warriors and his journal!!!!! 🫶

@taddy-cat @amateur-ace @hero-of-the-wolf

*breaks knuckles* okay okay okay

SO: I have this headcanon (which I cannot remember for the life of me if it’s something I completely made up or if he has a notebook in LU/his game-) that Warriors has a journal that he carries around with him pretty much everywhere. It’s not his first one, he has several he’s already completed filled out that are locked up somewhere secret back home, but these journals have EVERYTHING in them

These journals started out as places to take notes when he’d first joined the army and was getting a little bit of an education, he didn’t want to forget anything so he wrote it all down. Then they were just PAPER, something he could use to write letters to home, but as everything started happening the things these letters contained weren’t things he could tell his family and they never got sent or torn out of the journals. They didn’t necessarily contain military secrets (not at this point), just things he couldn’t tell another soul but he couldn’t continue to keep in his head. He needed to get it OUT, so he wrote it down in his native language that no one around him really understands so that information and those thoughts were safe. If anyone DID get a hold of those books they’d never understand it, and they’d at the very least be significantly slowed down because they’d have to take the time to translate it. The writing is cramped and frantic and the pages are tear stained in his more letter like entries and it’s damn near illegible at times, but its a way for him to just get it OUT so he can shove it away

Some of the journals from the war have pages torn out, completely or with just enough page left to read a little of the words on them. Those missing pages were burned and forgotten, they held memories Warriors himself can’t recall anymore. There’s a reason they’re gone

These journals are something he’s always kept on him, since the age of 16, and eventually he started using them for MORE than just to write letters that would never be sent, he started using them once again for notes. For strategies and plans and details of war. Battles planned out, notes for fellow soldiers, what worked what didn’t, documentation of battles won and lost. Some of these pages were translated and written out in neat, perfect handwriting and turned over to Zelda after the war to be preserved in history books, others to be used to better the army

Every page is dated, but the journals arent sectioned into “letters” and “notes”. If he wants information he has to scroll through and look for the date it was written, everything’s mixed together, separated by quick, harsh lines of ink between blocks of text

These books contain the hopes and dreams of a teenage boy, detailed analyses of the hyrulian army, the rage of a young man, ramblings of someone who felt truly broken, burned memories, meticulously sketched out fields with hastily drawn troop positions, a doodle or two from Mask

But more recently: In addition to this, one he keeps on him currently contains notes on the others. At first their weak points and important information about them ranging anywhere from “Wind has a peanut allergy” to “Don’t mention goats around Twi unless you have time to listen to him yap”. In those first weeks these notes could certainly be interpreted as him planning to do wrong, but that was never his intent. He has notes on his fellow soldiers weaknesses from his own era because he’s so used to studying people and helping them grow. He SHARES these notes with them, not that they can read them, but he tells them what he notices in a kind way and helps them improve and marks their progress

These books ARE his brain, he’s a damn genius who can’t organize his thoughts. He needs to see it all in a physical way in order to process it, though he’s not so stupid as to mention anything in these books that could be used to take down the queen, even if they are in another language. He’s not going to risk it

anyways thats my headcanon lol

[bodymachine]

regarding the “the american education system didn’t teach ___ so i never learned it” posts, some of you are veryyyy much missing what’s wrong w/ those statements when you give the blanket retort that the american education system actually did teach ___. newsflash: public school curriculums aren’t the same in every school/district/county/state. but to take it a step further, the quality of public education depends on state laws and the funding available to schools, which funding depends largely on local property taxes, which means low-income communities end up with low-quality schooling, fewer extracurricular programs, fewer resources for disabled students, more corrupt administration. the system is not about problems with curriculum, it’s much more and much worse than that.

besides the property tax funding, standardized tests also play a huge shitty role in this mess. schools that don’t have high test scores, i.e. underfunded schools often with majority low-income black and brown students, are considered “low-performing” and actually get less funding from the government as a result, like needed funds can get cut, and their teachers get paid less (and don’t even get me started on how programs like teach for america are sending young, white, fully inexperienced teachers to the poorest schools).

standardized tests are chosen at the state level, so states with huge wealth disparities and obviously segregated districts (like CT where i’m from) are measuring the performance of poor kids and rich kids using the same content and scoring system to arbitrarily determine who’s smart enough to deserve a better funded education. so the tests, i.e. the government, clearly favor the success of rich, white students. and the problem isn’t so much which content gets taught and how, as it is how little the american government actually cares about kids learning and having promising futures. like, education truly isn’t the point of american public schools. what they care about is deciding who gets to thrive in the world once they become adults.

since schools with majority white and wealthy populations essentially set the bar for what kind of performance is “standard,” everyone else whose circumstances (academic or otherwise) don’t allow them to reach that level are set up by the system to fail. being a “low-performing” school means kids are forced to repeat grades, and graduation becomes something out of reach. the schools don’t care about their students’ needs (especially when the teachers and administrators are mostly white), and real-life factors beyond students’ control cause them to struggle in school and they end up getting punished/suspended/expelled at horrifying rates, and yeah there’s a whooooole host of reasons why school can fucking suck and i’m barely scratching the surface.

anyway, what i’m trying to say here is YES the american education system sucks—not just because certain topics related to racism and imperialism and american history and other countries are glanced over or fully left out of curriculum, but also because success is being gatekept by the white and wealthy. it’s actively a racist system. not being taught important things about the world, or not being taught in a way that is actually engaging, is a problem that anyone anywhere can face, but it’s particularly insidious when you realize that the school system is TRYING to harm poor, black, brown, and immigrant communities.

so just to circle back to the real problem on display in those ignorant posts, it really makes me sick that white liberals can develop such a whiny complex around their own insular lack of curiosity when they don’t even know what “american education system” they’re talking about. and trying to look better than them by saying they just weren’t paying attention in school is completely completely beside the point.

[inkedberries]

Hey! Prefacing this by saying that this isn't meant to be an attack (which generally isn't a great way to start a message but I'd rather be clear about intentions) and more so genuine curiosity. Apologizing in advance for this being long; I have a tendency to overthink and overexplain.

I don't typically interact with fandom outside of like... carefully curated little microbiomes. As such I haven't really encountered the whole proship/anti shit with any amount of seriousness since probably around 2018. I personally don't put much stock into either of the terms because there's far too much grey area and for the fact that (as per my understanding) exist as ethical frameworks, and I don't care much for subscribing purely to a single framework to the exclusion of anything else in terms of personal ethics and morality. At most with friends we tend to colloquially refer to incest + pedophile ships as proships, because that's just sort-of what the term has evolved to mean most strongly (again, at least in the circles I run in). I don't consider myself anti or proship or whatever the fuck else, because I generally don't care to involve myself with that kind of fandom drama. I'll involve myself over like, matters of being anti-bigotry but the rest is just something I haven't wanted to deal with for 5-6 years. Tagging + filtering + block functions exist for a reason, and I don't need to do anything more than prevent my feed from showing me those things. I generally just hit block and move on with that kind of stuff, especially because I'm anti-censorship for a variety of reasons.

Tl;dr on that: proship/anti aren't terms I really use or subscribe to, because I feel like they oversimplify everything and conflate "drama". From my understanding, I agree with proship ideology (????) in the sense that I believe censorship only fucks over everyone, and that you can just block + filter and move on. But at the same time I see this overall conception that 'proship' means you support/condone/etc incest and pedophilia and so on, which I really truly don't. But there is this really heavy perception that proship = this person ships (usually) pedophilic or incestuous relationships. A bit reinforced for me typically because when something like that comes across my feed and I go to block the person, they generally have 'proship' in their bio. That to acknowledge that I do have some bias in that, even if I know it's a correlation/not cause thing. That all being (over)said (and I'm SO sorry again about how fucking long this is, my twitter TL is having a meltdown and I've avoided all this stuff for so long I don't know if I'm missing something? Because ethically on my end there's no reason for me to block or whatever outside of just the word proship...? Two minutes for a quick search as as far as I can tell you don't participate in anything against my own comfort/moral beliefs. so) I guess I'm asking what your definition of proship is for yourself and why people are jumping to this conclusion of dislike so instantaneously? Obviously you're under no obligation to educate me on what I presume is fucking YEARS of fandom history, nor respond publicly or even at all. I'm only asking you specifically because this is the first time I've encountered 'being proship' ≠ shipping pedophilia etc etc. I think maybe I came across it way back when as a middle schooler, but I'm not about to trust any of my opinions/recollections from when I was that age lmao. But anyways. Just genuinely curious and wanting to understand because I'm wary of reacting too-quickly just because other people are, and especially so if it's actually a total non-issue for me. Sorry again for the insane rambling in this lol

hello!! i hope you don't mind me prefacing this response too by saying to please read this out fully, if you don't agree with the starting points i've provided, i hope you still continue on reading until the end💙 i think @/frownyalfred best words the defense i would most likely stumble on if i give it a go at answering your question with my own words

and this was a post made in 2016 (where a lot of ppl say is the year anti-shippers started sprouting up) and this is honestly what i mean when i say i hate antis

if anything, antis just started the propaganda that all proshippers are incest lovers and pedophiles and people ate it up like cats who haven't had wet food in three weeks. as proven by your friend group using the term as such? that's wild to me that ppl use the term proship like that, i hope the case i'm making will change that for you and your friend group.

no, proship literally is anti-censorship. ship and let ship. antis gatekeep, police shippers and harass anyone who doesn't ship their ship the RIGHT way. and it's not just the ships you say are 'harmful' or 'immoral'. i've shipped a rarepair before and the fandom at large did not like me shipping a rarepair so they started calling me a pedophile bc i aged up said characters???????? they'll find anything and i mean ANYTHING to twist everything i say and do to make it seem like it's "okay" for me to be harassed and bullied. "oh it's okay that i'm telling this person to die because they're gross," yeah no that behavior is So Much More Normal than a person shipping two fictional characters the "wrong" way. AND YOU KNOW WHAT'S FUCKED UP? ppl BELIEVED THEM LMAOOOO

and hey no sweat, i was like you once. i didn't define myself as proship or anti bc the real world exists but then in the one space i thought i'd be free from real life speculation and surveillance i get these anti policing assholes so yeah im a proshipper now lol just to get away from that bs. i honestly just want to have fun on here without judgement but i can't even have that lol that's why im all about blocking/muting.

you say your tl is having a meltdown? well shit, they're probably calling me names on there too. probably throwing out baseless accusations without fact checking bc i'm lowlife enough not be respected or given the decency of a fact check? or saying my art wasn't good anyway? bc gatekeeping their precious kudoichi is so much more righteous, top priority that they start slandering a real life person, right? no no no one disgusting should be touching or shipping our precious kudoichi lmao i hope you see how Not Right this is. kinda makes me feel sick for real lol

and i hope you understand how harmful this is not just to my mental state but my livelihood as an artist as these people would just start policing their fellow fans and just tell them not to support or view my art because im a 'proshipper' not even that, they'd probably just straight up say i support incest and pedophilia which are?????? such STRONG accusations to make????????? now they're just buzzwords. BUZZWORDS for antis to use to defame and cancel an artist! a real life person. over their precious fictional characters. over their precious kudoichi. oh man it makes it so much more stupid if i specify the ship, what is wrong with people sometimes😭

but hey im all about blocking and muting and unfollowing if you don't like my stuff i'm 100% for that but i hope they do it on their own terms. their own thinking. not because someone told them to.

and i dunno man that behavior of not even letting their 'friends' think for themselves, that they'd bash them too if they support me, my art, kinda seems like grooming don't it? or nah no im just looking into it. it might not be that deep. but i really yeah that's why i hate antis and why im more proship.

but hey i appreciate you even taking the time to come to me in the first place and uhhh idk i hope you found what you were looking for and that i answered your bit of curiousity there!

[centrally-unplanned]

I strongly appreciated that Matt Yglesias a bit ago put some focus on the long tail of the educational reform movement in America, because in the Trump/Woke era its got tossed aside as a salient issue in exchange for new fronts. But history never works quite like that, and its still the grounding for a lot of modern issues that is just opaque, but still powerful.

And he completed my thought for me when it came to this ridiculous story of a consulting company called, inexplicably, "Woke Kindergarten" that was paid 250K to give antiracism training to a San Francisco elementary school's staff. Obviously it did nothing because DEI trainings don't work even for their own goals and sensitivity training for SF teachers is not the vector any issues with student achievement is riding on, but we all know that.

Instead its notable that up until the early 2010's, there was a strong, bipartisan initiative to use test scores to hold schools accountable for their results. Which schools hated! For the classic reason of all institutions hate scrutiny, but also for the somewhat fair reason that schools don't have that much agency of their student's learning to begin with, so that accountability could often be arbitrary. So one of the ways to outflank that initiative - at the time led by the Obama administration - from the left was to critique it from the angle of racism. Both accurately pointing to structural inequalities outside of the system (which proponents thought they could account for etc etc, its a whole debate) and using far more dubious critiques like saying standardized testing is inherently racist. This was always an idea "in the water" but in ~2000 you didn't find school principals with this idea - but by 2012, you did, as they had picked it up as ammo to fight the Reformers.

And then when Trump got elected and the culture war exploded, this was a ready-made faction to jump into the fray and piggy-back off the agenda. Its a real showcase of the "long roots" of ideological shifts - they are almost always composed of shifting factions under the surface bringing their own baggage into the system. Since we memory-holed the 2000's education wars, we often miss this side of it.

[flyonthewallmedstudent]

The weirdness of high school.

And university too maybe.

Plus or minus med school. But not residency. Watching THis is Us and other bingeable shows recently.

There's a lot of flash backs and flash forwards in the show.

There's the high school ones, which like all TV shows is very stereotype'd. They go to an alumni event, and the nerdy girl now surgeon is estactic to hang out with the former football star/cool guy. Who is very thick.

I was a super weird, nerdy, socially awkward kid. Afraid of a lot of social things, but not afraid of science, history anything academic or what I looked like. I wore oversized sweats all day everyday. I never knew how to say the right things or act in a crowd. I hated crowds. 2 or 3 close friends was great, and the best I could muster. I was terrified of their parents.

But funnily enough, I never knew I was weird. I wasn't unhappy either.

I liked having 2-3 close friends, nothing more or less.

Then close to graduation, one of the guidance counselors (the non-crazy one) said to me, she didn't have a great high school experience either. But it gets better after high school. I'll see. It took me years as a teenager to understand what she meant.

Later on I realized that other people felt sorry for me. Thinking because I didn't have the stereotype of the great high school experience I was some how sad, ashamed, unhappy.

Ironically I never even thought about it and was actually happy in my own world and space. I had my separate universe in academics. Like it never dawned on me that I was missing out on anything.

I felt embarassed, in a strange way as an adult reflecting on those experiences. Slightly embarassed for me, but more embarrassed for the small town/city around me. I did not fit in that place, but I didn't know it either back then or didn't care to. We were very much ships passing in the night. I didn't and don't hate where I grew up, I actually loved it in my own way. I got a great education there, and it got me where I wanted to go.

Looking back, plenty of kids probably made underhanded mean comments or passive aggressive statements - but it all went over my head. I suppose I would have been unhappy, had I read between the lines back then. Someone even stole my math text the week of the math exam, but I was actually flattered. That hey, someone thought I was that smart (imposter syndrome starts when you're young). It was one of the best days of my life.

It was also hilarious to me then, that stealing the text of one of the nerds during exam week would sabotage anything - because they spend their entire free time studying the whole year. They don't cram. Cramming was a terrible habit I acquired in university/undergrad. In med school, I'd fail exams because I crammed.

Another time I had left my draft math home work in a common room table, a classmate told me (2 weeks after the fact) that 5-6 different kids grabbed it and copied it. unfortunately for them, it was a draft full of errors, so I completely disregarded as trash. the final copy I submitted with the correct formulae was substantially different. Our math teacher of course realized that everyone had the same errors, but couldn't figure out the source. No one ever said anything mean or confronting, so it wasn't hard to brush aside. they self-sabotaged themselves, nothing actually happened to me.

Again, it was like we lived on different planets. Had they asked, I probably would have helped them out, I didn't get the grades I got by myself either. My far smarter co-nerd friends taught me a lot. On the other hand, I was intensely shy, they probably interpreted it as being "aloof." Or worse, condescending.

I'd felt my entire time during school, that it was the path to something else. I wouldn't get there till about 10-15 years later. Maybe even 20. It was a means to an end. If I was going to be working, then I wanted that work to have meaning. Or what would the point of all those hours. My parents worked in jobs they grew to hate to just go home and be tired.

Med school was a bit like high school. After the first few months of first year, i spent most of it hiding from other med students. (They were fucking crazy, a good chunk of them although not all, the anxiety, stress, competitiveness, the back stabbing, entitlement and bravado --> by the way, people do mature and get better. of course not all them do. anyhoo).

It was after selecting a vocation and starting residency that I found "home." Where I suddenly was comfortable having more than 2-3 friends and happy to be in crowds. Because everyone in the crowd was pretty much like me. We wanted to talk about all the same things. Maybe I grew more comfortable in my own skin along the way too.

But you know, it wasn't me that need to grow and change. I had found the environment where I finally could be myself in.