#get away pls

[tame-the-lion-writes]

I remember this one tiktok of dogs helping their mom grab groceries from the trunk and bring it inside when she comes home..

Now I imagine that with the Dog Shifter 141.

Like Reader bringing the first bag in and the boys just exits the house to grab the rest (Reader thought they’re running away lmao)

Canon. No notes. Canon (—as canon as a dog shifter au can be LMAO)

You're a one-trip-back-and-forth kinda gal. Unfortunately that stubbornness no longer works 'cause you're feeding five, and boy, do they have big appetites.

You've got two reusable bags and a third plastic one hanging off your elbow. There's still three bags left in the car. And the vegetables have been stacked so high that you can barely make out the lock on your door when you repeatedly try--and fail--to unlock it.

Once you do, though, the boys come out all organized. One by one. Price leads, of course--he always does, with Ghost right behind him, then Soap and Gaz. The first three go and fetch what's left in the car--intelligent but not too out of place. The strange part, though, is when Gaz gets on his hind legs and just... grabs one of the bags out of your arms? With his teeth? It's not the fact that he did it, but the manner in which he did--because you've watched one too many skinwalker videos on TikTok, and it just doesn't look right.

"Ooh... oh my god."

[sableeira]

And Dazai is like: omg how did he figure it out?!?!?!?

[auspicioustidings]

Being a ghost trying to haunt the 141 would be fucking EXHUASTING.

Price considers anyone on base as one of his, so quite frankly being a ghost doesn't exempt you from following orders. If you're going to haunt the place he is going to be hollaring commands at you. He knows you can move things, so better get to organising the storage room.

Ghost is scarier than you, he knows he is scarier than you, he finds any attempt by you to be scary pathetic and sad.

Gaz simply does not believe in ghosts. You can go full poltergeist and he is commenting on how that was some breeze that blew through and continuing about his day with absolutely no worries whatsoever.

Soap would really like to fuck a ghost. Like he would really, really like it. He is incredibly graphic about it. Anything you do to try scare him leaves cold spots which he walks through and immediately gets hard over.

[cyphyra]

Happy Fat Foxgirl Friday c:

Have a Purah

[lotus-pear]

lore accurate chuuya canonically drives a 2006 sparkly barbie motorcycle

[hinamie]

choke you back like fingers

[willgrahamscock]

Hey so is it a red flag if you’re a fat woman and you go on a date with a dude who says his favorite book is silence of the lambs (you know, where the serial killer specifically targeted bigger women), he works in healthcare and said he still has needles all over his apartment from when he was being trained and that it makes him “look like a serial killer” (his words), and his second date ideas include going to his apartment or hiking in the woods? Asking for a friend! 😃

Hi!!!!! I'm not joking please cut all ties with him in the safest way possible, I don't know your age but tell someone regardless.

Psa to everyone, trust your gut feeling if something feels off IT IS.

[sunny-ha]

Them cuddling and hugging 💘

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[kaeyachi]

Kaeya, despite being a sickly and gentle child, was his own kind of nightmare for Crepus and the other Dawn Winery staff.

See, Diluc is prone to mischief and chaos, dragging along his younger brother and a couple of other children into his plots and messes.

But Kaeya? Kaeya is the type to end up in the most random, and I do mean most random, of places. He would vanish for several hours, only to be found in an unexpected location such as, oh let's say that one time, he was found eating fruit with some friendly hilichurls...IN LIYUE.

He was such a curious soul that would easily get distracted by the wonders of Teyvat, but since he is so silent in both words and movements, whoever is watching over him would lose sight of him just as quickly.

He has caused several search parties in his youth, only for people to find out he was following a seelie to a treasure chest or napping with a young wolf cub in Wolvendom.

Crepus swears that Kaeya and Diluc are competing on who can give him gray hairs the fastest (so far, Diluc is winning, but Kaeya sure is catching up with every scream of panic from a designated babysitter and Diluc)

[rainbow-sunshine-unicorn]

He was doing all this because his wife got out of bed to get dressed

[aenslem]

Star Trek: Voyager (1995–2001) || 1.03 "Parallax"

[casualavocados]

#he doesn't want to fight with you ai di, he wants to Kiss🙄💘🥺

Nat Chen as CHEN YI KISEKI: DEAR TO ME (2023)

[yandere-daydreams]

apologies to all of you who know me personally and congratulations to all of you who do not. i am quickly spiraling back into degrees of lewdity hell and i fear this time it may be terminal.

[bucketsofmonsters]

Deep Water - Part 5

cw: the ocean, begrudging kissing done for practical reasons, discussions of drowning, blood, malnourishment, more tags to be added as the story continues

merman x fem reader

Word count: 3k

read on ao3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Simon wretched. He wretched in front of them and it burned his throat and stung his ego as he emptied his stomachs of human food in front of his human and your awful little friend.

Finn had brought him this. Maybe if you'd brought him food it wouldn't make him feel this awful.

Probably not, but maybe.

He didn't like being brought food by this man anyway. It felt too much like courting. 

He would preen at the idea of you bringing him food if he weren't currently emptying his stomachs in uncomfortably shallow water

Shallow water he bore for you. Not for him. Stupid little man.

He hated that he needed him. Needed him to bring him fish and these horrible toxins they’d decided to try. 

“Probably not bread then,” he heard you say and he shook his head

No. No more of this bread. Not if he had anything to say about it, thank you very much.

“Okay,” your stupid little human said, still looking nervous. As he should be. If you hadn’t stood between them, he’d be dead. Even in the state he was in, he could lure him right in past the rocky shore and into deeper waters. 

But he wouldn’t, for reasons he didn’t like to think about, his stomachs turning again as he did. 

The two of you exchanged words once more, ones he hadn’t been paying attention to, before the stupid human left again. 

You sat on the shore beside him and he pulled himself out of the water next to you. 

His gills ached a little as he shifted so frequently from water to air but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to lay beside you. 

You stared out at the sea, eyes a little distant and yet still warm. Even when they weren’t looking at him.

He couldn’t bring himself to feel jealous, not when he got to look at you like this. Even if that look wasn't directed at him. 

You spoke softly and contemplatively when you did. “They were together. Finn and Isobel. She was my sister, I don’t know if I ever told you about her.”

He shook his head, wishing he knew more of you. Wishing you’d share more of yourself with him.

But he couldn’t really blame you, what had he told you of himself?

“She’s smart,” he said, contented at the fact that Finn had apparently already been rejected by one of your own. 

“Smart?”

“You said were. He is not a suitable mate.”

You shifted on the rocks, something he’d come to realize you did when you’d been made uncomfortable, usually by him. He could rarely understand why, despite how frequently it happened. This was one of those times and he waited, patiently, for you to make it clear to him what he had done. 

“She never left him. They were together until she died.”

“Oh.” A horrible sense of dread overwhelmed him. “How?”

“She drowned,” you said, picking up a rock and throwing it out into the water. 

He was glad you weren’t looking at him, eyes locked into the horizon as you spoke. He was certain the worry was written across every feature on his face. 

Did he do that? He didn't know. That felt worse almost, that someone so dear to you could have been so insignificant to him that he may have killed her without even knowing

“Simon?” you asked, words fading in past the intense, buzzing panic. 

He wasn't sure how he felt when you called him that. A foreign, half-remembered name. You'd seemed displeased the first time he’d told it to you but you continued to use it so it couldn’t have been that bad. 

He’d caught himself calling himself that in his own mind, of late. It was easy to when your voice was the only thing that filled his head. 

He wished he had a name like you did, one he’d been given at birth so that when you said it it felt as if you were speaking him, like you could pour his essence out of your mouth with the affection he often heard in your voice. 

As he focused once again he saw the horrible human, holding a fish this time. He looked worried too and Simon wanted to snap at him for the look. How dare he pity him, he wasn’t to be pitied. He could swallow him up, could fix this problem easily, all on his own. 

And then your panicked eyes under choppy water filled his vision. 

He lowered his head, violence seeping out of him, sufficiently cowed, and took the fish. 

They’d been dead a while and he took no satisfaction in sinking his teeth into the soft flesh. 

Eating above the water was messy. The blood clung to his jaw, dripping down his face as he tore a chunk out of the creature.

If he weren’t so hungry he might’ve cared. 

A ravenous force took him until all he was left with was stubborn meat stuck on bones. 

Only then did he look at you. You looked disgusted with him, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He shied away from your gaze, tears welling up in his eyes. 

It felt like everything he did was wrong, displeased you and made you look at him like that. 

He slid wordlessly back into the water, not emerging onto the shore until all the blood had seeped into the water.

The concern was back on your face when he returned. 

“Was that okay?” you prompted him gently as he stared up at you. “You feel a little better now?”

He nodded, eyes locked on yours. 

A soft sigh escaped you, lips barely parting to let it leave you. He wanted to feel it, the gentle air passing over his skin, the soft lips he’d felt against his before. 

“Good,” you said, and your smile reached your eyes. 

It didn’t take long for you to depart, leaving to sleep far away from him. 

He did his best to rest and then he did what he’s begun doing most days, he milled about in the water, lonely and near the shore.

He felt an intense panic when he didn’t have eyes on you. If he could get his hands on you, cold and vulnerable in open waters, so could someone else. 

He wondered what he’d do if someone pulled Finn under. He liked to think he’d be noble and protect him, save someone so dear to you. Or at least that he’d turn and choose to let him go, allow him to be dragged under.

He knew that in all likelihood, he would freeze. He found himself doing that a lot lately. It seemed to come alongside the panic more often than not. 

Later, you came to the shore with your soft eyes and he did what he always did. He fought down overwhelming urges to pull you under, to drown you and feast, to protect you as his mate, to beg you to hunt for him as his body became more and more convinced he had lost the ability to do it himself, to do any number of things you’d despise him for wanting. 

He lay on the shore, frozen, until he felt his mind come back to him. 

The fish had helped, he thought. It didn’t take quite as long for the urges to leave him. 

You came bearing more of them. 

Well, you didn’t. Finn did. But he could pretend, think that maybe he was just carrying them to the shore, that really they were from you. 

He knew that they weren’t but he was no stranger to trying to read intention into the things you did. 

It was so easy to slip into, to pretend every action was a secret message of adoration, just like his were for you. 

But they weren’t and when he allowed himself to pretend all he’d done was hurt you, so he needed to be done with that now. 

If you wanted something from him, you’d tell him. 

If you felt something for him, you’d tell him. 

But you hadn’t, and that was fine. He wouldn’t push. 

But he couldn’t quite stop himself from pretending. Surely it was fine, so long as he didn’t act on it. 

Finn dropped the fish on the shore and Simon dove for them. 

It was unseemly but he couldn’t help it. The hunger had left a steady ache inside him and he would take any chance at relief. 

The basket held a few fish, five or six of them strewn inside. 

It was enough to be full. He could’ve cried at the sight. 

But he had more important things to be doing and so instead, he grabbed the basked firmly and slid back into the water, dragging them under. 

He flipped the basket as he immersed himself in the water so the fish wouldn’t escape him and rise to the surface, holding them protectively to his chest. 

He’d wanted to tear into them on the shore but he’d seen your face the last time. He could not see it again, the revulsion that had painted itself there. 

So instead, no longer dissuaded by your presence, he devoured them.

Blood clouded the water as he ate, swallowing mouthfuls of flesh one after the other.

It wasn’t the safest way to eat, could surely attract attention from other hungry creatures, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d done as much caring as he was capable of. 

When he was done, he returned to the two of you. 

Some of the foam lining the gentle waves ran red, stained by remnants of blood washing to shore. 

You both had the decency not to comment on it, though he watched your eyes flick down and then quickly back up. 

He wondered if you’d begrudge him this too. Your food wasn’t quite as messy as his was, was further from the creatures you ate, even when you ate meat just as he did. 

He’d seen it before, basically unrecognizable, no blood pooling or ripping out bones as you ate. A more seemly affair. 

Finn’s eyes lingered longer on the red, something quietly sad in his eyes, before they darted up to Simon. 

As you sat, fawning over Simon and ensuring he had enough to eat, he found it difficult to bask in your attention the way he wanted, that gaze remaining steadily on him. 

He tried not to notice Finn as often as he could. He brought about feelings that were better avoided, especially in front of you. 

Currently, that was difficult, due to the fact that he was staring Simon down, some horrible thought forming behind his eyes. 

“What’s it like?” he blurted out, cutting you off in a way that made Simon want to snarl at him. “Being under the water like that?” He sounded eager.

“Horrible,” you said with a little huff, your words turning bitter. 

He did not begrudge you for the harshness of your words. He would move to land if he could, to prove to you he held no loyalty for the ocean. 

“No,” Finn tried to clarify. “Not just swimming, actually being able to stay down there, to breathe it and live it.”

“I know,” you insisted. “I’ve been down there. It’s awful.”

Finn’s eyes flicked between the two of you like he was trying to decipher something. “How do you… please tell me you're human. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

You reeled back a little at his words, like the thought of you being like him had never occurred to you. He supposed maybe it hadn’t, maybe the possibility of what things would be like if you were the same hadn’t haunted you as it did him. 

“No,” you said with a swift, decisive shake of your head. “Nothing like that. He just does this strange thing where you can breathe underwater. It’s happened a few times now. It’s awful, I don’t recommend it.”

Your unfavorable words did nothing to snuff out the excitement blooming across his face. “Could you do that to me?”

Simon’s nose wrinkled at the thought. “I’d have to kiss you.”

“Oh. Well, it wouldn’t mean anything, it’s just practical.” 

A spike of panic shot through him at the thought that you believed the same about the kiss you had shared with him. That second one that changed his life.

It was practical, he supposed. At least the first one, underwater with panic in your eyes. The second couldn’t be. He couldn’t make sense of it, refused to accept it. 

But this one could be, he supposed.

He turned to you, unsure what he was looking for. 

You seemed just as uncertain as he felt. You spent a while searching for words, mulling them over, before settling on, “It hurts like hell.”

He was quick to reassure you both that it was fine and he didn’t mind. Simon didn’t much care what he minded. 

But then you sighed, slow and resigned, and gave him a look that if he was reading your expression right, which he’d discovered he often wasn’t, was saying ‘please.’

And he couldn’t disappoint you. 

With a huff and a frustrated look directed at you, he grabbed Finn’s hand and began yanking him back into the water. 

Of course, it would have been easier to simply lure him in, but he had a feeling you would not have approved of that.

So instead he yanked him, slowly but surely, into deeper waters. 

The brush of his lips, however brief, revealed rough lips, not like yours, not soft and sweet and so dear to him.

He did his best to lose the touch in the scramble of pulling him into the water. 

He watched the fight that went on in Finn’s eyes as he tried to convince his brain that he was allowed to breathe, saw the moment of panic when his breath could be held no longer and his body forced him to inhale a heavy breath. 

He knew it was wrong to feel a little swell of satisfaction now that he knew that it hurt to suck in water where air should be, and yet he couldn’t quite muster the shame that should follow such a feeling. 

Only as he saw the pain in his eyes did he realize how horrible of a decision this was for Finn. He’d put himself in so much danger, offered himself up to a siren, for what? To be able to see under the waves for a few more minutes? Surely the man could just go for a swim. 

He didn’t know the truth, that he was probably safer with Simon because at least this way, he’d be left alone by other creatures. He didn’t know that his devotion to you kept him from pulling him down and calling it a freak accident. 

All he knew was that he’d put himself in the water with a starving siren. 

Finn left him behind pretty quickly, moving to investigate the floor of the ocean, trying to look at fish before they swiftly swam away, leaving him behind in cloudy water. 

It felt like an uninteresting affair to Simon but Finn seemed to be getting something from it. 

Some amount of time passed, slipping away as Simon distractedly followed the irritating little human around. 

Eventually, after far too long, he appeared to be done. 

Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe Simon pulled him to shore without a signal. It was hard to read body language when one was irritated. 

With another burst of satisfaction, he pulled Finn onto the shore and watched him heave water from his lungs, some of the embarrassment from the human food incident sinking away. 

Strange. He’d never thought it embarrassing when you’d done it. Now, watching Finn deposit ocean water onto the sand with wet hacking noises, he thought that it was a shameful affair. 

“That was incredible,” Finn managed to gasp out after a few minutes of heaving. 

It didn’t feel right, that he’d taken him down there. That his lips had touched Finns.

He turned to look at you, sitting beside him on the shore, a sympathetic grimace on your face as you watched Finn. 

And then he leaned in and kissed you. 

Not a practical kiss, with no intent to put you anywhere near the water, but one born of only affection. 

It was a brief thing and when he pulled away, you looked almost panicked. 

His heart sank at the realization he’d messed it up again, done something strange and wrong and made you afraid of him. 

But then the tension began to fade from your body, panic shifting into confusion.

“Why did you do that? Am I going into the water?”

He shook his head, face still inches from yours. “I just needed to. I’m sorry if I was wrong.”

He heard something from Finn and refused to turn and look at him when you were so close. It sounded almost like a cough, but not the painful, wet coughs of breathing air once more. It was a short stunted thing. 

Simon, without turning, announced in response to this strange noise, “You can leave.”

A fit of laughter escaped you at his words, burying your head in your hands as you giggled.

He hadn’t been joking.

That was fine though. He liked it when you laughed, even if it was at him. It was never cruel, always soft and with nothing but shining amusement in your eyes.

He wished he was better at making jokes.

When he tried you just stood and stared and when he did not you laughed.

But then, he was never the best at knowing when to laugh either. There was a kinship in that, at least.

When he thought he might be laughing out of turn too much, he suppressed it. You didn't. He thought maybe your smile was too bright to keep down, that maybe it would hurt you like keeping in your air did.

His heart sank a little as he remembered.

Hurting you. The horrible realization that he'd hurt them all.

Maybe some of them laughed out of turn too. He'd never know.

Maybe your sister had.

He turned to leave. He couldn't stand to be here any longer.

He should tell you. He knew he should. But his jaw felt locked shut and his body felt like it was being pulled away, out of his control. 

And so, like a coward, he fled, the water drowning out the sounds of laughter that he left behind.

[bicheetopuff]

Shounen was written for young boys to help them to get stronger and find a purpose in life, thats why most shounen series end up in marriage and having kids. Japan's birth rates are dropping each year and you guys want to see Deku and Bakugou end up together instead of Deku and Ochaco getting married and having kids? The stories and media we consume has to match the standards of real life you know.

Wow… this is a lot to unpack. A normal person would just ignore this, but lucky for you, I’m a bitch when I wanna be, and I happen to have time on my hands right now.

1) “Shonen was written for young boys to help them to get stronger and find a purpose in life”

Shonen is literally just a genre that directly translates to “young men.” But I think you’re trying to define the meaning of story telling as a whole, and even still, that’s a very narrow way to view an entire genre.

Stories meant for young men, most of the time, are meant for entertainment. You have anime’s like Dragon Ball and Naruto that’s almost nothing but action scene after action scene with very little thought provoking plot, because at the time, they were written for young boys. Like, they were aired on children’s channels back in the day, young boys. And while I won’t deny that there are definitely some good lessons in both (I can’t speak much because I never finished Naruto and only got about 20 episodes into dbz) they’re not meant to make a boy “stronger.” Lessons in early shonen were meant to broaden world views and increase emotional intelligence in a way that’s easy to understand. I guess it depends on your definition of what strength is, but I feel like strength is built from personal experiences, not watching an anime.

That being said though, the shonen/young boys genre has evolved over the years in the east and the west. Jujutsu Kaisen, Chainsaw Man, and Attack on Titan, are all shonens, with aot being also classified as a seinen. Those are most definitely not meant for the same age group that Dragon Ball and Naruto and One Piece were written for, given the amount of gore and heavier themes presented. Now, that’s not me looking down upon those stories at all, that’s me pointing out the obvious difference in tone, despite them being classified as the same.

As the genre evolved, authors approaches have also evolved. Literally read any interview from any modern shonen author and you’ll see how unserious they are when it comes to their own stories. Gege didn’t even like writing his story past a certain point and was just trying to push through it, because it wasn’t the story he originally wanted to write. Horikoshi has always said he just wanted to tell a story with no real goal towards the audience. Chainsaw Man is literally about a guy wanting to touch some boobs??? What about any of that screams, “I’m writing this to raise the new generation of young boys into strong husbands and fathers who know their purpose in life!”

Shonen as a whole has grown into a genre meant for young adults, with heavier themes and becoming increasingly more political. It’s not the same genre it used to be, and trying to say that it is, isn’t fair and is lowkey insulting towards authors with a more progressive world view.

2) “Japan’s birth rates are dropping each year and you guys want to see Deku and Bakugou get together instead of Deku and Ochaco getting married and having kids?”

Yeah… you’re right. I’d rather see a well written relationship come to fruition than watch another male author completely disrespect their female lead and ripping away her development. Why the fuck would I, an infertile acespec queer person, give a fuck about using two fictional characters to inspire young people to get married and start a nuclear family…

Also the birth rates are dropping all over the world, don’t pretend it’s only a Japanese issue. In Asia specifically, the birth rate is going down because women are tired of men’s shit and refuse to bare their children, and I’m actually happy as fuck that other parts of the world are following in their footsteps.

Women have been treated like shit in every corner of the world for so fucking long, and we all just dealt with it because that’s what we all thought we were supposed to do. It’s about fucking time we actually put our foots down and protest in the ways that we can, which is practicing our rights to autonomy. Why tf should we be responsible to bear the children of men most of us barely even like? And why is having children a mans responsibility, when women are the ones who have to carry the babies? Besides, why the fuck would anyone want to bring a kid into the shit show that is the world right now?

We’re over populated, have a really fucked up consumption and capitalism problem which causes us to depend on disgustingly unethical ways to find resources to appease everyone, there’s fucking flowers blooming in the arctics, there’s several genocides happening in the world as a result of neglectful and corrupt governments, a literal ethnic cleansing happening, and a carton of eggs costs 12 fucking dollars while the minimum wage stays at only $7.25 and the cost of living isn’t affordable unless you’re making nearly triple the minimum wage. I don’t even wanna be subjected to this shit and I’ll be damned before I subject a child to it against their will. Most of us can’t even afford to take care of ourselves without our parents help right now.

Also, what does a gay pairing have to do with the birth rate at all? Is Deku gonna carry that baby? Or are you seriously just narrowing down Ochaco to nothing more than his incubator? If Ochaco decides to have kids one day, why should it have to be with Deku? Oh and I hate to break it to you, but Ochaco becoming a mother isn’t going to solve any of the issues you presented.

3) “The stories and media we consume has to match the standards of real life you know”

…you’re talking about a story where one of the background characters has a god damn spray bottle for a head…

It’s fiction. Superhero media, at that. None of it has to follow the “rules” of real life, and most of the time, this kind of media does the exact opposite of following societal norms. And you thinking otherwise probably made Stan Lee roll in his grave.

Also, what’re your standards for real life? Because everyone’s standards are different. If yours is to get married and live in a traditional household with five kids and one source of income in this economy, then I think you’re the one being unrealistic here.

We shouldn’t burden children with adult responsibilities. Having kids and being a “good husband” isn’t something a child should have to think about until they’re older and only if they want to. Believe it or not, not everyone’s goal is to get married and produce offspring. We should be encouraging children to do the things they like doing without having to worry about adult shit yet. Not indoctrinating them into believing that the only way for them to be a successful adult, is if they have kids.

Using shonen and other conformative media that is dead set on maintaining the status quo to brainwash kids into wanting to be parents before they even know how babies are made, is weird. Don’t be weird, anon. You sound like one of those “alpha males” with a red pill podcast, convincing young men that crypto scams are a perfectly ethical way to make quick cash.

Literally just say you’re a misogynist, and move on. And get tf out of my inbox.

P.S.

You know gay men exist in real life, right? You’re talking as if gay men aren’t real. Not only are they real, but they also have nothing to do with the birth rate dropping. Find something else to be mad about.