#why does society do this to our bears

[pequins]

LOOK HOW FRAIL HE IS SOMEONE FEED THIS STARVING BOY 💔💔💔

[genderqueerdykes]

honestly as a butch, i just gotta say it: that "chivalrous knight in shining armor" crap is objectifying as hell and it's not fun, cute, or validating to apply to us, it provides a burden for us to bear, it makes us paranoid, tired, weary and feel like we're being reduced to a stereotype, or like we're being forced into a mold.

i'm not a knight just because i'm a transmasculine person who looks tough and can theoretically protect femme queers. i'm literally just standing here, being transsexual. i'm not inherently "chilvarous," i don't have any obligation to protect people just because i adopted the label "butch". what if i'm weak? what if the butch needs to be protected? what if the butch is disabled, traumatized, or just scared? i'm a wheelchair user.

why can't femmes protect their butches? why does it always have to be the butch being the chivalrous knight in our yearning posts and poems? why do we have to weave a performative ass narrative of the masculine partner swooping in to protect their defenseless feminine partner? how the HELL is this progressive or subversive at all? this is literally reinventing the binary.

the way the (white) cis lesbian community treats its butches is alienating as all hell. we are not here just to protect other people. we are not inherently protectors. we are not all strong. we are allowed to be weak. we are allowed to be scared. we are allowed to be hurt. we don't HAVE to protect our femmes, if we like femmes at all. not every butch is attracted to femme people in the first place.

butch isn't a lifestyle, it's not a set personality type. it's not a specific set of actions; it's just queer masculinity, that can be expressed by a multitude of queers for a multitude of reasons. it's not one specific set of traits. masculinity is not just found in protecting others and acting tough, it's also in being soft, vulnerable, weak and tender.

just let butches be people, don't turn us into objects before we even get out of the gates. all of this removes the human element of being butch. if the queer community can't afford that, we can't get it from anywhere, because we sure as hell aren't seen as humans by cisheteronormative society.

don't force me to see myself as a knight when i'm the one who needs help just because i'm masculine, or just because i'm a man.

butches need help, too.

[jaal-ama-daravv]

dissecting the emmrich romance scene (lich path)

dissecting the graveyard scene dissecting the alternate romance path dissecting the argument scene (lich path) mortal vs lich romance path emmrich x rook cinematic

Emmrich Volkarin - Dissecting the Lich Romance Scene fair warning you're in for an emotional rollercoaster

first, i wanna touch on this from our previous dissection (argument) -

"What if I can't bear that for eternity?" Oh, Emmrich. his entire soul aches over the inevitable future that awaits rook. i think this line is so important for emmrich because 'bear that for eternity" implies Emmrich will either, a) go rogue trying to bring rook back c) live with so much grief over his lost love it changes his soul forever in a dark, yet unknown way. and quite frankly, all of these are incredibly sad, and that just hurts. i thoroughly, full heartedly believe that there is no concievable way that emmrich just 'moves on' and 'accepts' the death of rook as previously stated in the lichdom scene. sry bioware, but youre wrong on that one as if he was 'fine' with it, he wouldn't of had a massive panic attack over rooks death and his grief. COUGH, the eternal flame. i could rant for hours and HOURS about how emmrich in the lich path is absoloutley devastating if rook were to pass on, because he is so compulsively, irrevocably in love with them. and not only is he in love with them, he has the love he has yearned for, for over 20 years. its huge for him which is evident given how both romance paths have him terrfied of how much he loves you.

Additionally, Emmrich grew up poor. This would impact his view on society and love. But more impactfully, it would impact his view on himself. His self-worth. Emmrich likely thinks he doesnt deserve this type of love. Hence the attempt to push Rook away and act over-suave at times.

anyway, to the SCENE -

immediately we are hit with this, to which Emmrich replies stating that he did it not to scare the citizens. what a load of huff. youll see why thats a straight deflective lie soon -

don't you worry handsome man, youre not alone emmrich expressing his fear of losing rook, and/or losing eachother, continues to be a major dynamic between these lovers

oh rooky, im so proud of you for opening up about your feelings. (remember the argument they had prior, it was fort knox up in here)

rook expresses clear fear and gratitude that they were able to escape the fade. I do believe that the line "I was afrad I'd be there forever" is a parrelle to emmrichs lichdom - as they would of spent eternity without eachother. hence why this next line, hurts so much -

the raw emotion, the crack in his voice when he says this line tells you everything you need to know. he is so grateful to have rook back with him. I do believe in this moment that emmrich has a moment of realisation of his love for rook, and just how immensed and attached he is with her. which is why he later vows that nothing will part them ever again, "not in this, nor any other world" (cough, soulmates). idk man, i have a feeling that emmrich would find rook's spirit in the fade (or any other world) if they passed on, and he'd never leave.

key point back to the lichdom decision scene -

man would go full blown rogue, scarlet witch rogue, i see it now.

I also want to touch on the "you're here with me" line. this, this is important considering what happens directly afterwards - remember how i mentioned desire a few posts ago? lets break it down, "you're here with me." Emmrich has held a consistent view throughout the whole romance that "its gratifying a fresh-faced adventure took any notice in me at all", does emmrich also possess the belief that the love he so dearly desired may not of been possible in his life time due to his age? i think so. which is why desire and the "wow, you're here with me" is so, so important. Now watch closely -

he looks defeated, ashamed - "why would someone like her be with someone like me? let alone, desire me."

the pose, how he is holding his chest and his body up against the coffin, the disbelief and sadness that is pained over his face. he is heavy with angst. this man wants rook, body and soul. he is SO in love with her. god my heart breaks typing this. he is so in love with her, but is so afraid that she doesnt want him now that he is undead - I will add in here to think back to when he was mortal, 3 flirts lines in total were regarding his looks. UGH, just stab me - ps the music in this scene rips out my heart, stomps on it, and shoves it back into my chest bloodied and bruised.

when rook touches him, his face unstiffens and his body relaxes. he looks at her nervously, but before he can address her or admit his pain, rook has NOTICED (YAY - take that argument scene rook) what is bothering emmrich, because she loves him so much, maybe even more, regardless of his undead figure. "You don't have to hide your face from me" is just a perfect way of phrasing that you are made for eachother. rook reassures emmrich of her undying love for him.

its that gomez and morticia dynamic, unwavering, obsessed dedication to eachother. a bond that strengthens the other. for emmrich and rook at least, theri dynamic is so strong I wholeheartedly believe the death of one, would break the mind and soull of the other.

there is so, so much emotion in this scene and most of it is written into the facial expressions and movements of the characters. watch how the fear of death becomes easier now that emmrich knows that rook loves him truly -

im not crying, you are -

this WRECKED me. because there is a slimmer of hope in his voice and particularly the words he chose. "I will let nothing part us again, my love" emmrich is a lich lord, with powers we dont understand just yet (cmon sequel with rook & emmrich), it is safe to say though that emmrich and rook would fight for and protect eachother to the death so that they may not be parted. This also takes me back to my original point of not letting anything part them, nothing - not even death. hence my belief that emmrich would do anything to find rook in the fade or any other world.

"Not in this nor any other world" - do i need say more? the hope seeps through, its not alot, but its there. don't get me wrong, he still has a crippling fear of death, but its, different. different in the sense that if rook was to pass or trapped somewhere, he would get them back and find his way to them, at all costs, one way or another.

the rest of the scene is very, very sweet and shows them being happy for the extra few hours they have together before facing untold danger - by either rook being able to see the fade through emmrichs eyes, or them boning again. actually i think both lead to boning.

this scene has me in absolute tears everytime I witness it because it is so powerful. it is hopeful. it is pure committment of their relationship and bond to eachother. combining this with the knowledge of the argument scene and having played through the mortal romance path, this - is extremely emotional.

Both romance scene are emotional and touching in their own regard - however, I do think the lich romance scene is more deep due to the dynamic. It is not about simply coming to grips with mortality, it is coming to grips with mourning your lover for eternity, and if you cant bear it for eternity, (which he wont, cmon) he is afraid. afraid of losing, rook. his heart. his dearest heart, and of losing himself because rook is, and I quote, "the most magnificent thing to ever happen to me."

mourn watch rook and emmrich are on a whole other level, and that level is something that is told in the minute details, the edging looks. the tone of voice. there is hope in this scene and a sense of overwhelming love and acceptance, but, there is also impending grief. which makes this story so real.

you can feel emmrich yearning for rook throughout the entire romance path because of the fated connected they share, in this and any other world. you can feel it. but this, in the lich scene? there is yearning, acceptance, hope, grief, joy, and melancholy all in one. without a doubt in my heart, these two, are made for eachother, in every world.

I shall break down the mortal romance scene next ♥ see you soon

[bethanysnow]

How I think Stray Kids Members would date a Plus Size girlfriend ~ Hyungline

Maknae line

-Bang Chan

This man deadlifts 350lb....do you think it's only for our benefit????? NAH this boy got an actually plus size gal in his minds eye. Large arms, soft shoulders, STOMACH, back???, calves???!?!?!?! Why does no one talk about calves!?! Where this man can man handle and grab and pull to his hearts delight and not break her. Lord knows one spank from him would probably break someone's pelvis if it didn't have padding.... Now I do think he would need to work on himself internally on some of his "complexes" and self image and self confidence?? I love this man to death, but you'd be reassuring him just as much as he is you. He went from the body checking capital of the world to the plastic surgery capital of the world at a formative age; it fucks with your head.

But he would love you, becoming friends would be faster than blinking, but I get the vibe it takes a while to fully trust? He trusts too easily and has been hurt by it in the past so he needs to know that you're gonna he there for him as he is you. He would 100% be the bf to make sure that there are clothes you can wear in his closet but not say anything. He's conscious of how he has insecurities and understands that it takes more than kissing it better and a love making session. It takes work. And he'd be there to remind you every step of the way how much he loves you.

-Minho

This quiet man might surprise you. Now I don't think he'd be the first to come to mind when possibility dating a plus size gf, but this man is a intelligent one. He is introspective, quiet, understanding. He is one of those people in life that either body size wouldn't even cross his mind when dating you, or he would be very conscious of it. Not in a bad way of course.

He is just very concerned about you in how people treat you because of your size, not liking that he gets treated so special cuz he happened to end up being traditionally handsome. Where he sees the mistreatment you deal with and feels protective over you. So he plans ahead, makes sure the restaurant has chairs without arms, would rather people look at him and how OH LOOK ITS LEEKNOW than make you uncomfortable that you think people are staring.

If diets and conversation around diets make you uncomfortable I can see him changing the topic even around the members if you're there. He wants you to be happy and comfortable around him. While he isn't very affectionate or loud about his love its just as deep.

Also.....you got the best ass even if its flat

-Changbin

I think for someone who goes to the gym as much as he does he would understand if someone was having bad experiences tied to it? Like he is paid to work out and have a nutritionist and a stylist and all these team members. Not everyone has that. So he wouldn't pressure you into going with him unless you wanted to go. If you did though he'd be the first one to brag to everyone that you can out-leg press him. It would be the first thing in the group chat in all caps.

Dating Changbin, it is so domestic? I imagine? Like you start dating and he is just this big ol' teddy bear and he would feel so honored if you let yourself be timid around him. Being plus size (insecure or not) you have to have a thick skin, you grow to defend yourself, you protect your heart because people have been cruel and society is a bitch. In doing so the walls are a bit higher, and the fortress is a bit more imposing. But with Binnie, he is a hug that is open anytime anywhere. The absolute pride in his man once you allow yourself to lean on him, or dare to lay on his chest while cuddling? ahhh thats the good stuff

I also think he would be the first one to defend you, knowing the boys love language is poking fun he wouldn't have it if it was you. Be prepared to be presented with one of the boys' heads in a headlock by Binnie if they say anything. He is your knight in shinning armor and will make sure you are laughing and smiling and having a good time. Also he like chan feels more at ease knowing you aren't gonna break if you two get up to something more rough or naughty in the bedroom. Even on a more innocent path just knowing you aren't gonna judge him for how he looks like he doesn't judge yours makes his heart soar.

-Hyunjin

Hyunjin I think would have the most obstacles in regard to dating someone of size. Not that I don't think he wouldn't, but I think with the Korean beauty standard he has a lot of internal stuff he needs to work out before he could be in a healthy relationship. He knows what its like to be judged on only by how you look. He wouldn't want that for you or any of his friends, so I think he would be friends to lovers? You are a great deal of a reality check for him, when he gets very internal and in his head about stuff he goes to you.

So by the time he figures out he has a crush on you his entire art book has already started to look like Renaissance drafts of plus-size women. Starts seeking out media and art that reminds him of you. I don't even think hes conscious that he's doing it? I think it feels like an itch he can't scratch just right and its driving him insane because he doesn't know how to pin down this feeling. Not in art, not in lyrics, it evades him. Till he is standing in front of you, at your apartment, with an Idol worthy bouquet of flowers. Opening his heart and hoping you don't reject him.

Which....would never happen? Your relationship is one of the ages, he writes songs about you, and draws you constantly. In-person he has to be near you, even as simple as playing with your jewelry or showing you memes on his phone while you eat silently side by side. It is a love that is comfort, its like warm clothes out of the dryer for hyunjin.

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

@7ndipity @kaciidubs @itshannjisung @dreamescapeswriting @moonlightndaydreams @ldysmfrst

[shycoconutt]

you, more than anyone, know that satoru isn't invincible. as his closest friend, you see what those who call him “the strongest” miss.

they don't see him remove his blindfold at the end of the day, rubbing at his tired eyes. they don't notice how he spends each evening at jujutsu tech, staring out the window, watching the sun dip behind the mountains. they never question why his infinity is always active, even when there's no immediate threat. they don’t feel the tension in his muscles that lingers hours after he meets with the higher-ups. they aren’t aware of his sleep schedule, where he barely gets 1-3 hours of “rest” each night. they can’t imagine the countless scars he'd bear if not for his rct. they don’t realize that the only things he consumes are sweets to dull the constant ache behind his eyes, not food to nourish his body.

but you notice, of course you do.

-

after a late-night doom scroll, your eyes light up when you see an advertisement for a cooling gel eye mask. after purchasing one in a pretty pink color and storing it for 24 hours in the office freezer, you hold it behind you as you stroll casually into his room.

“toooooruuuuuuu,” you sing as you walk up behind his desk.

reclining in his chair, he lets his head lull off the back so you can see his face.

“i know you have something behind your back, weirdo. you can’t hide it from me, remember?” he says as he points to his eyes behind his mask with a goofy smile.

“tsk, just go along with it for a second, will ya?” you scold playfully.

not without a dramatic sigh, satoru folds his arms in front of his torso. suddenly, you feel the air around you still, signaling to you the drop in his infinity as he lets you have your way with whatever you plan on doing.

with one hand, you carefully peel off his mask and toss it on his desk.

“keep your eyes closed, okay?”

“mmmmm”

the short walk from the communal fridge to his office was enough time to freeze your fingertips. bringing the gel mask in front of you, you do your best to stretch it as flat as possible before placing it slowly on his face.

“oh! what the- it’s so, ah, cold!”

you smile, tugging the elastic band around his head to hold the mask in place as he jerks around in his chair. your hands naturally fall to rest on his shoulders to steady him in place.

“toru!” you laugh, “it’s okay, just give it a second to get used to it!”

slowly you feel his tense shoulders begin to relax under your palms. as if on instinct, you start to work at them, kneading the muscles between your fingers. satoru’s face flushes a soft shade of pink, probably a reaction to the harsh temperature on his skin.

“huh,” his voice soft, “this actually feels pretty good.”

“of course it does,” you scold, “things like this exist for a reason. it’s called self-care, toru. it’s this wild and crazy idea where you take care… of yourself.”

“sounds like a gimmick.”

a smile creeps to your lips but quickly falls flat. satoru is always dismissive about his health, putting on a playful tone with his signature smile. but it’s a mask covering the ugly truth–there’s no time for self-care when there’s no sense of self. self does not exist in a world where he is merely a pawn–a very powerful, unforgettable pawn–but one nonetheless. he is an atomic bomb in society’s arsenal, labeled the strongest with the security that there is nothing, no one that rivals his ability. we are all protected while he suffers, out there alone in scenarios absent from our nightmares, as none of it is fathomable.

no one cares.

no one knows.

they are all so ignorant.

we are all so ignorant.

“OW,” satoru gasps, snapping you out of your spiral.

“oh my gods, i’m so sorry! did i hurt you?”

he puts on a show for a few more seconds before relaxing again. “not really, but i can read your thoughts and you were starting to get a little intense there.”

bringing your hands off of him, you fold them in front of you defensively, “you cannot read my mind.”

satoru rolls his head side to side on the chair, teasing you. “yes i can, and i appreciate you worrying about me.”

you huff out the air in your lungs as he peels the mask off his face, gets up, and turns to stand before you. his size makes it difficult to take him all in at once–his proximity to you causes you to crane your head upward to look him in the eyes. the skin around them glistens subtly from the condensation there, making them reflect even more intensely somehow. getting lost in his eyes isn’t just poetry, the blue pools of infinity stare right back at you, so deep and real.

it’s selfish to think you have any ownership, any authority over them. but in this lifetime, you’ll be damned if anyone dares to take them away from you.

“but i’ll be okay.”

his tone is so soft. as you search his face for any sign of fallacy, you see now that there is no mask–no fake smile. his infinity remains down, confirmed by the hand you place above his heart. 

“you promise?” you question in a whisper.

suddenly, but not unexpectedly, his hand is placed above yours. 

“cross my heart,” he swears, lifting your hand with his own to draw an x over his chest.

humming in response, you bring your eyes to your intertwined hands. it’s difficult to not pry more, but, unfortunately, you know this has to be enough.

“in all honesty,” you begin, “i wish i could kidnap you to a remote, faraway island. i would chain you up in bed, feed you warm meals every day, and force you to get a solid eight hours of sleep.”

satoru’s laugh rings throughout the room.

“sounds kinky,” he muses with a wiggle of his brow. 

sighing dramatically, you continue “but, alas, i cannot. so taking you to my place tonight will just have to suffice.”

“huh?”

“fine, fine, i won’t chain you to my bed. but i am making you takoyaki and tucking you in at eleven.” with his hand in yours, you begin to lead him out of his office. quickly, he is in your step by your side, a wide grin on his face. 

“you know,” he tempts, “you can chain me to your bed if you want to.”

“don’t tempt me, boy,” you play along, “you know how i can get carried away.”

somehow, the shiver that escapes satoru’s body is even more intense than the chill of any ice-cold face mask.

a/n: i wrote this sometime after i read the thirty-three questions gege was asked about satoru gojo and was sad to learn more about his daily life. our overworked king deserves a little break, yeah?

[mariacallous]

A woman without biologicalchildren is running for high political office, and so naturally that quality will at some point be used against her. Kamala Harris has, in the short period since she emerged as the Democratic candidate for US president, been scrutinised over her lack of children. The conservative lawyer Will Chamberlain posted on X that Harris “shouldn’t be president” – apparently, she doesn’t have “skin in the game”. The Republican vice-presidential candidate, JD Vance, called Harris and other Democrats “a bunch of childless cat ladies miserable at their own lives”.

It’s a particularly virulent tendency in the US, with a rightwing movement that is fixated on women’s reproduction. But who can forget (and if you have, I am happy to remind you of a low point that still sticks in my craw) Andrea Leadsom, during the 2016 Conservative party leadership election, saying that Theresa May might have nieces and nephews, but “I have children who are going to have children … who will be a part of what happens next”. “Genuinely,” she added, as if the message were not clear enough, “I feel that being a mum means you have a real stake in the future of our country, a tangible stake.”

It’s an argument about political capability that dresses up a visceral revulsion at the idea that a woman who does not have a child should be vested with any sort of credibility or status. In other comments, Vance said that “so many of the leaders of the left, and I hate to be so personal about this, but they’re people without kids trying to brainwash the minds of our children, that really disorients me and disturbs me”. He appears so fixated on this that it is almost comical: a man whose obsession with childless women verges on a complex.

But his “disorientation and disturbance” is a political tendency that persists and endures. It constantly asks the question of women who don’t have children, in subtle and explicit ways, especially the higher they rise in the professional sphere: “What’s up with that? What’s the deal?” The public sphere becomes a space for answering that question. Women perform a sort of group plea to be left the hell alone, in their painstaking examinations of how they arrived at the decision not to have kids, or why they in fact celebrate not having kids, or deliberations on ambivalence about having kids.

Behind all this lies some classic old-school inability to conceive of women outside mothering. But one reason this traditionalism persists in ostensibly modern and progressive places is that women withdrawing from mothering in capitalist societies – with their poorly resourced public amenities and parental support – forces questions about our inequitable, unacknowledged economic arrangements. A woman who does not bear children is a woman who will never stay home and provide unremunerated care. She is less likely to be held in the domestic zone and extend her caregiving to elderly relatives or the children of others. She cannot be a resource that undergirds a male partner’s career, frailties, time limitations and social demands.

A mother is an option, a floating worker, the joker in the pack. Not mothering creates a hole for that “free” service, which societies increasingly arranged around nuclear families and poorly subsidised rights depend on. The lack of parental leave, childcare and elderly care would become profoundly visible – “disorienting and disturbing” – if that service were removed.

“Motherhood,” writes the author Helen Charman in her new book Mother State, “is a political state. Nurture, care, the creation of human life – all immediate associations with mothering – have more to do with power, status and the distribution of resources … than we like to admit. For raising children is the foundational work of society, and, from gestation onward, it is unequally shared.”

Motherhood, in other words, becomes an economic input, a public good, something that is talked about as if the women themselves were not in the room. Data on declining birthrates draws comment from Elon Musk (“extremely concerning!!”) . Not having children is reduced to entirely personal motivations – selfishness, beguilement with the false promise of freedom, lack of values and foresight, irresponsibility – rather than external conditions: of the need for affordable childcare, support networks, flexible working arrangements and the risk of financial oblivion that motherhood frequently brings, therefore creating bondage to partners. To put it mildly, these are material considerations to be taken into account upon entering a state from which there is no return. Assuming motherhood happens without such context, Charman tells me, is a “useful fantasy”.

It is a binary public discourse, obscuring the often thin veil between biological and social actualisation. Women who don’t have children do not exist in a state of blissful detachment from their bodies and their relationship with maternity: a number have had pregnancies, miscarriages, abortions and periods. A number have entered liminal stages of motherhood that don’t conform to the single definition from which they are excluded. A number extend mothering to various children in their lives. Some, like Harris herself, have stepchildren (who don’t count, just as May’s nieces and nephews didn’t). A number have become mothers, just not in a way that initiates them into a blissful club. They experience regret, depression and navigate unsettlement that does not conform to the image of uncomplicated validation of your purpose in life.

But the privilege of those truths cannot be bestowed on creatures whose rejection of the maternal bond has become a rejection of a wider unspoken, colossally unfair contract. Women with children are handed social acceptance for their vital investment in “the future”, in exchange for unrewarded, unsupported labour that props up and stabilises the economic and social status quo. All while still suffering sneeriness about the value of their work in comparison with the serious graft of the men who win the bread.

On top of that, women have to navigate all that motherhood – or not – entails, all the deeply personal, bewildering, isolating and unacknowledged realities of both, while being subject to relentless suffocating, infantilising and violating public theories and notions that trespass on their private spaces. With that comes a sense of self-doubt and shame in making the wrong decision, or not being as content with those decisions as they are expected to be. It is a constant, prodding vivisection. That, more than anything clinical observers feel, is the truly disorienting and disturbing experience.

[emmyrosee]

I know you like big beefy Tenya too so... Would you forbid him from ever wearing contacts outside the house because the no glasses look makes him too hot or do you forbid him from ever going outside because the glasses alone are a risk to society?

I treat my pookie bear sweetheart sunshine Tenya like Kiyoomi- the less people that see you, the better.

Like he’s all geared up to go out to the grocery store for milk, and all you see is muscle and shiny hair and that smile of his, and his glasses that make his eyes practically glitter, he’s so fine. He does have contacts, but those are just too powerful against society, he just becomes too beautiful to bear. You tell him you just love him in glasses more; he doesn’t need to know specifics.

“Uh, you can’t go out.”

He freezes his grabbing of keys to look at you, “why is that?”

“Because you’re too perfect.”

He cocks his head slightly in confusion and god, the way his brows pinch in the center of his forehead, you want to kiss the small bit of skin that juts out from being scrunched. “I don’t follow, my love…”

“Tenya,” you laugh softly, getting up from the couch and making your way to him. You make good on your desire to kiss the perfect perch between his brows, and he softens softly at the affection. “You are, single handedly, the most handsome and perfect man I’ve ever seen. I hate sharing you with other people. So, respectfully, you can’t leave the house. It’s the rules.”

“I still don’t understand,” he says softly, but his cheeks are blazed in a flush. “Won’t people have to see me, regardless of our desires?”

“They can only see you when im with you,” you say, kissing his forehead before making your way to your shoes. “So, I guess im going with you to get milk. Fight off anyone who tries to come up to you.”

He adjusts the glasses perched on his nose, clearing his throat and following you like a puppy toward the collection of shoes by the door. “Well… who would I be to question the rules?” He says, and you laugh and move to lace your fingers with his.

“The worst.” You swing your interlocked hands back and forth, as if to test the durability of the affection. “Let’s go get milk.”

“I must confess, I feel a little guilty that you feel obligated to come and defend my honor.”

You beam up at him. He blushes again.

“For you? I’ll do anything, tenya.”

[toa-arania]

Gender is such a fascinating thing in Bionicle because objectively why is it there? Why do the biomechanical maintenance nanobots of a giant robot have gender? Or, more accurately, why do they have a gender binary? The gender binary as we understand it is (unfortunately) heavily linked to biological sex, something that MU bionicles don't have. The logical answer is that the Great Beings gave them gender to be reflective of their own society, where there are biological beings that reproduce biologically and have a gender binary that presumably sprouted from that, at least initially. However, despite giving them gender, they didn't give them any kind of sexual dimorphism, and for this we want to look at some of the non-matoran species and how they interact with gender.

The Vortixx are a society heavily stratified by gender - being 'male' or 'female' is more like a class system, with females as the upper class and males as the lower, working class. It's very reminiscent of the Orions from Star Trek. Additionally, we know that the species is not sexually dimorphic. Yes, the species that produced Dommy Mommy Roodaka, with her heels, ass, tits, and ponytail, is not sexually dimorphic. We see in one of the comics that a Vortixx confirmed to be male also just looks like that, and honestly we love that for him. He even has the rhotuka ripcord that kinda looks like a riding crop. We know that the Vortixx were created by Mata Nui rather than the Great Beings directly, so is it perhaps possible that because their perception of gender made no sense to apply to the MU inhabitants, Mata Nui compensated by having gender present itself in other ways?

Consider also the Skakdi, where the only thing we know (at least as far as I'm aware) about their relationship with gender is that there are female Skakdi, and that they are more violent and destructive than the males. We have never seen one, and we know so little to the point where I actually thought for a while that the Skakdi were a single-gender species. Like the non-GSR characters in Bionicle, they were given their elemental associations separately from their genders, and we've seen nothing to suggest that gender has any bearing on their society aside from disposition.

Then we come to the Matoran. For Matoran, gender is quite frankly fucking bizarre. The Av-Matoran were the first type to be made, and they are also the only type that can be more than one gender. The doylist explanation for that is so that they can blend into other Matoran types better, but that doesn't make any sense because those other types didn't exist yet. We do have a quote from Greg about gender in the Matoran, where it's stated to be a psychological difference rather than a physiological one, where the 'feminine' elements are calmer peacemakers, which is an absolutely fascinating quote because it's completely untrue. It might be true about the Ga-Matoran (with notable exceptions like Hahli), but it sure ain't true of the Vo-Matoran and Ce-Matoran, where our two primary examples are Chiara (electrocutes a lizard to make the point that females aren't gentle) and Varian (tortures Norik with nightmares for fun). There's also Orde but I genuinely have no idea what to do about him. He claims that he got all Ce-Matoran made into women to make them chiller and it clearly didn't fucking work so other than I guess the pitch of their voice there just isn't any observable difference.

What is demonstrably true is how general disposition does seem to vary between individual elements, and since Greg has confirmed that gender in Bionicle is a psychological variation that affects outlook and disposition, I honestly do not think it's a stretch to say that, at least for the Matoran, each of the fifteen elements is a separate gender. Honestly this even makes the elemental prefixes neopronouns, from a certain perspective. The Shadow Matoran are also fascinating to look at from this angle because they don't ordinarily exist; they're made from other kinds of matoran - the fifteen 'standard' genders if you will. They don't call themselves Kra-Matoran because they aren't a defined group, and they never think of themselves as one. They go back to what they were beforehand perfectly fine and at least act better off for it - with one exception. Gavla (the only female Av-Matoran we actually meet, who feels ostracised from her community) wanted to stay a Shadow Matoran, a kind of Matoran outside the standard concept of what elements they could be because she felt wrong as an Av-Matoran, and as a Shadow Matoran she felt more like herself. All this is to say:

Gavla Bionicle is Transgender and Non-Binary, have a nice day.

[jujutsukgojo]

The Baby Project: Chapter Five

izuku midoriya x reader, minor hitoshi shinsou x reader

1, 2, 3, 4

Summary: On July 15th, the flavor of the day is strawberry shortcake.

tw: fluff, slight angst (?)

The old camera sits nicely in your hands. Having polaroids seems more personal and shows Noa’s development in a better way. You attach the photos to your monthly reports to make up for Kaibara’s pathetic effort. Why you care about that you don't know, but you do. Everyone knows about it. Snipe was there to witness it. Yet, wanting to prove to him that Noa is strong without Kaibara, feels needed.

Maybe it is also your way to make you feel better. About everything, really. The case has been going great and your arguments have been thoroughly studied and practiced. It will still be a while before you can go in front of everyone, but you’ll make do. So, there’s no reason to even think about Kaibara unless it involves revenge.

  As for right now, you’re capturing the moment of Izuku and Noa matching outfits. Both of their smiles match and are wide from happiness. Noa is wearing his Deku jacket and some green pants with red shoes to match. Izuku is wearing his hero outfit without the gear. 

Although Noa still bears a striking resemblance to you, he shares some similarities to Izuku. It is getting harder to say that Noa shares something with his dad other than the last name. 

This project is insane. You can only hope you won’t go crazy. If it happens, you hope not to take Izuku down with you. He makes the frustration and pain you feel everyday go away bit by bit. Even when you hurt him, he hangs on. Does he know how sweet he is? How in a short amount of time have you come to really like him?

Both him and Noa’s grins are cheesy.  “Alright, we’re keeping this one.” The picture comes out of the camera and onto the pinboard next to your dresser’s wall. Both of their arms are flexing and their stances are fit for a hero’s poster board. Although you usually give the pictures to Snipe, you’ll keep this one. After the conference with Hawks, it may be all you have of Izuku and his little moments with you.

“Here, Noa!” Izuku grabs the camera and turns it to you. The bright flash catches you by surprise. You grab Noa. “Wait, Noa wasn’t in that one.”

  “I know. This is for me.” He whispers it to himself. You had to strain to hear it. Finally, he takes a picture of both you and Noa. “Cheese!”

  How do you take all of this in? How is any of this supposed to make sense? Noa’s warmth feels so real. He’s fleshy and his heart is beating a steady rhythm. Izuku’s here like he wants to be and like he’s comfortable. This project has messed with us all. It’ll get worse from here.

------------------

“Ok, what about this though? They can say that they don’t owe anything if it aligns with the curriculum.”

“How does this assignment pertain to us? None of the authority figures have explained what this is even for. It’s not for us . This isn’t in our curriculum, it’s theirs.” You talk and move your hands at the same time. You go to the classmate who spoke, Akane. A blonde haired girl with completely black eyes. Her iris, pupil, and sclera are all ink black. 

“I’m writing that down.” Riko says. Benio stops highlighting. “She says that every day.”

“Yeah, but not with passion.”

In your hand is an old law book. When heroes first started, they altered the laws to fit a growing society with various powers. Order needed to be established, not just for the people, but for the ones who can do things no one else could. Rules that even the big wigs have to uphold.

“Okay, let’s continue. In section eight, there is a passage, right? About justice for mankind in the form of free speech.”

“That doesn’t apply…” Ema whispers as she gently moves a stroller back and forth, calming someone else’s doll.

“Free speech is what wasn’t given to us at the start of this project. Our concerns that we tried to raise went completely ignored, which goes against the text.” 

You ask Benio to hand over his book that he is recklessly highlighting. “In layman’s terms here, we have a right to say shit if it harms our wellbeing. Since it is a danger to us, we have the right to say no and they have to take that into consideration, which they haven’t.”

She writes all of that down. You put the book on the table and she highlights it. Sakura walks to the table. “Okay, what about this one? It’s a tricky little bitch. If the decision is for the good of the school, these rules are overridden."

Sakura, who is just the social media director, hands you the new U.A. rulebook. It’s slim and isn’t creased in the slightest. You doubt anyone has seriously looked into it. You look at it as she holds it out with her hand. You suck in your lips and think. 

“How is this project for the good of the school? And why exactly would that matter? They’re heroes, not politicians. How can they sacrifice lives for the sake of us being practice dummies? The students can be used for practice in a rescue exercise in a controlled environment and there must not be any harm. This,” You gesture at the room and the dolls.

“Can’t be used since it’s harming and endangering us, and no one is being saved. It isn't an assignment or for practice. This is abuse of authority. Besides, it’s an emotional project for them. Because of Todoroki who is still here.”

“There you go again.” Benio puts the highlighter down. “You can’t blame him for his father and brother's sins.”

“No, what I can blame him for is being the cause of this thing. This may have been their idea, but it is him that is endangering us all. This project is emotional,” you point to Sakura’s book. “And it is against the rules. It’s all based on Todoroki. It’s for him without thinking of the consequences. They can't use the excuse that this is for the good of the school. Lives are at stake."

"No one here is dying, love."

"Our hearts are. Our mental, emotional, and physical health is taking a hit, too. They're failing us." 

Ema waves her hands around, letting go of the stroller’s handle. “Wait, wait, wait. Hawks cared for Twice-”

“Good for us!”

“Or bad. He may think this project is a good thing to prevent someone like Twice, who he considered a victim of circumstance. What are you going to say?”

  You remain silent for a minute. They all look at you. “It’s redundant. What they’re doing is creating Twice. All it takes is one bad day to drive a man mad. How many have we had? If they want to prevent another League, they need to care for the people right in front of them. It only takes a day to ruin someone.”

Sakura gets on her phone and has a smirk on her pretty face. You yawn as another book opens. The clock seems slower but tells the right time. Determined to intake everything you can and rebut your friend’s practice arguments, you ignore your headache and drowsiness. 

--------------------------------

The lids of your eyes are unbelievably heavy. Your body is swaying as you hold Noa’s hand. Noa yaps happily and stumbles from time to time. You’re patient and help him along as best you can.

  You try not to think of the heaviness of your backpack that is filled with textbooks, on your shoulder is Noa’s diaper bag and in your hand is Noa. If you pay attention to it, these aches that are settling into your muscles and all the way to your bones, will stay. Maybe you need a coffee. A nice coffee and probably a snack for Noa. A vending machine, a beautiful machine that has glorious food and coffee, is against the wall to your left. You slowly head to it with a tired smile on your face. Someone gets in front of it and enters their money. You wait patiently behind him. Right as he moves out of the way and your smile gets wider until it is snuffed out when you see a robot baby face down next to the machine. 

"What is that?" 

The guy sipping a coffee hums and follows your eyes to the baby. "Mm, that's my project."

"Have you lost your mind? Pick it up!" His tired eyes widened. "I'm serious!" You bend down to pick it up, withholding a groan. Carefully, you turn it over and see that it has his eyes and fluffy purple hair. Its tummy rumbles, vibrating your arm. "Are you kidding me? Have you even fed it?"

"Listen-"

"No, no! Where's the bottle?" He pats himself then pulls a bottle out of his back pocket. Mei's face hasn't lit up to show that it's expired. You snatch it from his hand and put it in the baby's mouth. Greedily, they suck on it, not letting a drop spill. "What is wrong with you? God, heroes are so fucking lazy."

"Wait a min-"

"Shut up," You don't know why you're doing this. This project in your arms is not your responsibility. You kick his shin, barely making him wince. “Look, I don’t know you-” You put the baby in his arms. He drops his canned coffee on the ground as he scrambles to hold him. “But I do know that you will do better. You are going to take responsibility and raise it and not rely on strangers to do it.”

You cut him off right when you see his mouth open. “Do you rely on your partners in the field? Risk their lives for your failures?” He stops and stares. “If not, then don’t do it to us. Raise it. And if you do rely on everyone, then you have no business trying to be a hero.” As parting gift, you kick him again. He doesn’t try to dodge this time. You turn and leave, no longer thirsty for a coffee.

 Noa squeezes your hand. His brows cinch together in worry. You sigh and give a small smile, hoping to ease him. All you want is to sleep and get Noa to take a nap, God willing. Noa’s eyes don’t leave yours. You yawn again and unintentionally slow down. Your body isn’t moving as well as you want it to. In the distance you hear the purple haired baby cry.

Unfortunately, that confident front is just what it is: a front. A facade, a lie if you will. Because when you face your door, you’re barely hanging on. Everything is heavy, it weighs a million pounds. Noa goes inside first and heads to his toys. Immediately, you fall onto your bed and sleep, forgetting your meds.

Right as you can smell the intense scent of lavender and see the purple mist swirl around, your shoulders are grabbed roughly. “(Y/n), love, wake up!” You flinch at the contact. “What’s wrong? Dearie, what's wrong?"

You look up and see Izuku with furrowed brows and worry in his green eyes. They dart along your figure. “Huh?”

“I asked what’s wrong? I wasn’t able to contact you, so I got worried.” You look at the clock and see that it is almost bedtime. You’ve missed dinner and valuable time doing whatever Noa won’t allow you to do.

Crap, Noa hasn’t eaten.  

“Noa-”

“I’ll take care of it, okay?” He looks you over and settles back on your eyes. “You don’t look so good, I’ll handle it. Just rest.”

You reach for your meds and take them. You don’t miss how he stares at you. Without thinking about it, you hit the pillow with your eyes closed, already asleep. Whether you were working or not, you crashing was bound to happen. It’s been a long time since you’ve gotten to sleep, to actually rest. What once weighed a million pounds is fading away with the drift of peaceful sleep. 

-

Hours later, you wake up surprised. Next to you is Noa, of course. But behind him is a hero with green curls who is laying on his side, dead asleep. His arm wrapped around you while Noa snuggles closer to you. Your face is on fire. Not only is he in your room again, he’s in your bed. Next to you. There’s a boy in your room sleeping on your bed with you. 

  You stretch and wiggle out of his hold he tightens it at first then lets go. Groaning, you look at the time. It’s morning now, still dark out but enough to at least get breakfast going. Quietly, you close the door and head downstairs to the kitchen. On the way, you try to come up with some explanation about the boy in your room.

A boy.

In your room, on your bed. In the elevator, you squeeze your head then cover your mouth to hold in the squeal. You instead do it in your hand. “Izuku’s in my bed!” 

You slept together in an innocent way. “Oh my God.”  What is this stupid giddiness? This is embarrassing! He’s going to do something like the walk of shame or whatever. What will everyone say when Izuku comes down with his morning voice, and his curls-

“ Lord, help.” You stop the elevator and shake your head. You’re a pervert for the thoughts going through your head because not a single one of them are innocent.

 Taking a deep breath, you press the button for it to go down. You need to stop having teenage hormones and focus on the fact that Noa needs food. So does Izuku. Izuku…what if he doesn’t like it? You could be cooking something, and he won’t like it or he’s allergic! Actually, you’d prefer for him to be allergic than not like the food. 

The door opens and you try to calmly walk out. You take a deep breath and run to the kitchen. “Plain oatmeal is safe, right? He can doctor it up himself and I’ll be in the clear. Yeah.” You don’t really want to do that. It’s stupid, the entire thing. There’s this stupid feeling of wanting to impress him. 

He’s a guest, right? You’d be a bad hostess. Who knows? Maybe he’d like it and want to stay or something.  

You’re a degenerate.

You smack your cheeks. “Okay, let’s get started then.” 

-

An hour or so later, the sun is peeking out now. You look around and see another deviant. A horrible villain that has no place to be near you. “Hello, (Y/n).”

Fucking Benio. He stands there with a plate and a bowl ready for you and on the counter is a mug of coffee that was set for Izuku. Unfortunately, Benio obviously claimed it. “No.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

  He shakes his head. “I wasn’t going to say anything but,” He sets his dishes on the counter. Benio leans on it and gestures to the food. “Alas, it seems I must.”

“Excuse me?”

“Telling Snipe that Deku is in your bed.” You gasp and toss a strip of bacon at him. How the fuck did he know that? “Hey, he’s the birthday boy. Who am I to judge what his present is.”

“It is not li-wait, birthday boy? Today’s his birthday?”

“Yeah, it’s July 15th. What? You didn’t know?” You shake your head no. “He didn’t say anything about it.”

“And you let him in your room anyway. The shame.”

You scoff. “Really? Like you haven’t fooled around? Besides, he fell asleep there. He was playing with Noa and just fell asleep. I was making breakfast for the little butthead and thought I’d be nice.”

“You haven’t been nice since you were one. When you turned two it went downhill.” You roll your eyes. “Fuck, you’re still in your terrible twos.”

 You finally take his plate and put some food on it. “Make sure Kobeni eats.”

 You turn to load the boys’ plates. Noa’s is a little different since he’s young. Rather than having a fried egg like Izuku, you scrambled his and put rice on his little purple plate. Maybe you should’ve called Ken. You can cook just fine on your own, though having Ken’s advice would probably have made it better.

  Benio places a mug on the tray and the boys’ dishes on it. “I was just playing. Even if something did happen, I wouldn’t have said anything.” 

You side eye him and grab the tray. You tap your fingers on the counter and raise your brow at him. “You’ve been talking to Yaoyorozu a lot?”

“Somewhat. She’s still barely doing anything but it’s progress. She thinks being friends or something is a start so she talks a lot. I don’t know. I’m still having trouble trusting her.”

  You rub your neck. “I don’t blame you. I don’t trust what’s-his-name either nor will I ever.” He can’t be redeemed in the slightest. A villain attack could happen and you wouldn’t have him save you. You’d rather die.

  “Mm, this is a good thing, my secret double agent.” 

“You’re evil and I love it,” He stretches for his bones to give a relieving crack. “It’s a good idea anyway. Especially when a certain someone wants to pay you a visit.”

“Who?” Benio waves and thanks you for the food, ignoring your questions of who wants to talk to you.

--

It’s a hassle to get the heavy tray upstairs and even harder to open your door. You set the tray on the ground and open it to find Noa standing. “Mmm, go.”

Izuku pops up from his slumber. “He’s saying sentences!” He tumbles out of your bed, bringing your blankets with him. “Where’s my phone?!”

“I don’t think you brought it. And that wasn't a sentence.” Izuku still pats around, totally oblivious to what you just said. “Mm, papa."

“He’s talking again! Where’s my damn phone?!”

You try to get his attention and tell him that his hair is standing straight up on one side and drool is crusted on the other side of his face. He doesn’t look like the Izuku you imagined downstairs. Right now he looks goofy with red lines on his face and sand in his eyes. “The camera’s right-”

“Camera, a camera!” He takes a quick step to your desk where the camera lies and stubs his toe. 

Oh my God. 

Noa walks to you and hugs your legs. “Ma-”

Is he trying to say mama? Is it finally happening?

“Izuku get the fucking camera!” Now there’s a reason to celebrate. Noa stares into your eyes with what looks to be wonder. With a smile he says, “No.”

------------------------

“Say thank you, mommy!” Izuku helps Noa eat. 

“No.”

Fucking brat. “He doesn’t need to be fed anymore, Izuku.”

He ignores you and cuts Noa’s eggs with a fork. “I know, I know. These are big pieces though.” 

“Of scrambled eggs?”

“Anything can happen!” You watch as they eat. Izuku suddenly stops before he gives Noa another bite. He studies your figure all the way down to your lap. They flicker back up to your eyes. “Where’s yours?”

It took him a whole seven minutes and thirty-three seconds to realize you don’t have one. 

You don’t want to tell on Benio. “Oh? There was only enough-” Izuku then shoves a piece of his egg in your mouth. Noa laughs and takes it upon himself to join in on feeding his mom who he insists doesn’t have that title . He grabs some of his food and shoves it in your mouth. 

When should you ask what he wants for his birthday? It wouldn’t be weird for you to give him something, of course. He did sleep in here, on your bed. With you. And is still here. With you.

  Swallowing your food, you say, “I heard it’s your birthday.”

He puts some rice in your mouth. “Yeah.”

You mess with the bottom of your shirt. “Is there anything you want to do? Because we could have a party, the three of us.”

“Well-”

Your door is knocked on with even taps. Izuku gets up to answer it while looking down at the floor. Benio is there with his arms crossed. At first, Izuku doesn’t realize the implication that this could have until Benio grins. Izuku waves his hands around.

“Ah! I-I-um, I can explain why I’m here before-”

“Aye, she already said. And it’s no secret you’re here anyway since you jumped into her window like that.”

  You take a bite from Noa’s eggs. “You came in through the window?”

Izuku turns red and stutters. “I couldn’t get a hold of you! I thought something might've been wrong-”

“Oh my God.”

“Anyway,” Benio stops and coos at Noa who instantly recognizes his uncle. “Deku’s needed in the hero course.” 

Izuku slumps and turns around. “Noa, sugars!” He squats with his arms wide. Noa goes over and gives his papa a kiss. On Izuku’s freckled face is a smile that seems forced. A facade to cover whatever he feels and is not planning on telling.

“(Y/n), I’ll see you soon.” 

There is something off about him looking back at you when he leaves by jumping out the window. His eyes lacked the sparkle they usually have. Well, you and Noa will have to change that. 

Noa whines for his papa at first, his little feet pad to the window that you launch yourself at to close it. To stop him from losing his shit, you give an offer that you are sure will make a mess. “Wanna bake a cake for papa?”

----------------

“Alright Bubba, where should we start?” The recipe isn't complicated. The only thing that might foil it is Noa.

He stretches to give you an egg. You grab it from him before he drops it. “Come here, little boy.” You pull the kiddie chair up that you snatched from the commons. With the help of Noa’s ‘big boy muscles’, you set it next to the counter for him to stand on. You’d prefer he’d sit though.

He excitedly bounces and gets on top of the seat. “You’re already so strong, y’know that?” It’s true. He’s only one, but everyone that sees him would swear he was two. He’s beyond advanced. If he doesn’t officially turn two soon, then you’ll have to take him to Mei because he’s broken.

 Despite being incredibly advanced, he is struggling with calling you mom, mama, or mommy or anything that is remotely similar to a mother’s name. All you get is no and eyes that hold a gleam that is too suspicious to be innocent. No matter, there is no reason to worry. He is a year old, not five.

  You put the wet ingredients first with the help of mini man. Before he can mix everything too harshly, you guide his hand. Suddenly, you hear footsteps outside of the kitchen. You know for a fact that no one is supposed to be here since everyone had plans.

You mess with Noa’s hair. “Stay here, okay?” He nods and keeps stirring slowly. “I already know you’re gonna fuck with shit.” You say under your breath as you exit.

  There he is. The purple haired deadbeat bitch. You clench your fists until you see the baby. “I’m not taking care of it for you.” You say. His eyes catch yours. He stupidly grins, showing his perfect white teeth. “Wouldn’t dream of it. You gave him heartburn last time he saw you.”

“And you make me itch.”

He takes a step forward and deeply inhales. “Well, you-” The two of you stop when you smell something burning. You take off into the kitchen with what’s his face right behind you. On the stove is a fire with Noa’s hand on the knob. He leans to it and keeps adjusting the degree. He’s in awe of the orange light that doesn’t resemble the candlelight that he’s used to.

  You run towards him until purple hair snatches you up with one arm around your waist. “Back up!” 

  He grabs Noa and hands him to you. He turns the stove off, but it doesn't help. Purple hair lays eyes on the fire extinguisher that is protected by a metal cage with a glass window. Finally, a white substance calms the flames until they’re nothing. It evaporates completely, leaving no trace of a fire or the substance that has been manufactured by a quirk. Your hand is protectively on Noa’s head who has yet to cry. 

  “What were you thinking?!” The man scolds. You can’t remember his name right now, not when your adrenaline is like this. “Leave us alone!”

“No! I think you two have been left alone enough!” Sick of him you go up and push him away. You point to the exit. “ Leave! This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for you!”

 He scoffs. “Yeah, blame me princess. That’d get you far.”

“Dumbass, it’s your fault. You come in here and distract me and now look. How am I supposed to finish this?”

He looks around. “What the hell were you doing other than a terrible job?”

 Your eyes practically bulge out of your sockets. “You ass-”

“What the hell is it?”

“I was making a chocolate cake.” You say as if you’re stating the obvious. He raises a purple brow. “For what?” Your eyes go to the floor. You didn't think that anyone would question why you’re doing this. It’s no one’s business! Yet, you explain anyway. “It’s Izuku’s birthday.” 

  There is a silence that neither of you break for a minute, then he inhales. “Izuku’s favorite cake isn't chocolate.”

Oh. “ Who’s to say I want to make his favorite?” That was dumb.  His smile and eyes are knowing and arrogant. “So, you want to disappoint him?”

“...No.” You are starting to hate yourself. He gets a little closer. You notice that black jumpsuit fits him baggily and the fishnets he has on his forearm are snug. It’s an odd costume, one you wonder if he took inspiration from a comic book villain mixed with his teacher, Eraserhead. Minus the clown boots, of course.

 He sucks in his lips and looks around. “I could tell you.” You strum your fingers along the counter. Rather than showing anything, you decide to come off as nonchalant. “Okay.”

“Only if you tell me happy birthday, too.” You scoff in disbelief. “Pardon?”

“My birthday was two weeks ago, and no one was this sweet.” What the fuck. Surely, he has friends up the ass. He’s in the hero course and was impressive in the Sports Festival. Plus, he knows Izuku. They must be friends, and no way would Izuku not celebrate a friend’s birthday.

You put your hand on your hip. “This isn't for you.”

“Trust me, I don't want it after seeing you in the kitchen.” He gestures behind him at the stove. Noa giggles. “That wasn't me, that was him!” You point to the little brat. 

“Mhm, sure princess.”

You take a deep breath. You’re going to ignore that and not tell him that you literally worked in a restaurant. “Just tell me his favorite.”

He tilts his head with an expectant expression. Under your breath with clenched teeth, you say, “Happy birthday.” He hums and answers simply, “Strawberry shortcake.”

 “Thank you. You're dismissed.” You turn to the bowl on the counter. Luckily, the extinguisher didn't get in the mixture. On top of that, you already started with the right ingredients and Ema has been on a strawberry kick, so that's covered. Other than the fire, it's going well.

You side eye the purple menace who is still standing next to you. Slowly, you stir the contents in the mixing bowl. “What’d you come here for anyway?” You see that he doesn’t have his baby. You give a short laugh. He sucks his teeth. “What’cha laughing about?”

“Hmph, you dare judge me about leaving my kid alone when you don’t have yours.” He shrugs at you. “It’s on the couch. I don’t know what to do with it, to be honest.”

 You slam the items down. “Have you even tried? Or are you expecting us to do it for you? Ugh, I’ve had it with you heroes.”

“Says the person making a cake for one.” You close your eyes. You don’t like him. 

“Whatever. What did you come here for?” You stop and turn to him. He looks down for a moment then answers, “I wanted to thank you for snapping me out of it.”

Whatever face you’re making must say a lot because he chuckles a little and rubs the back of his neck. “I, uh, wasn’t doing what I needed to and you kicked me into gear. So, thanks. I can’t promise I’ll be good at it, but I’ll try my hand.”

This is unexpected. A total turnaround from the arrogant son of a bitch he showed you two seconds ago. Now, he looks his age; a shy boy in his late teens who is turning his pride in for reality. Seeing it makes you feel a subtle happiness inside your chest. Not because you're proud of him but out of total spite. Earlier, Benio said that someone wanted to talk to you. This guy is obviously who he meant.

 “You’re welcome that I was kind enough to point out how useless you are. Now leave.”

Rather than finding anger or embarrassment in what you said, he chuckles. "I can’t even stay and watch?” 

“No.”

“How about to judge?”

“No.” 

  The more he stays and watches your every move, the more your hands shake. You pause your movements longer than you want to with every whisk as you feel his gaze on you. “Can you please stop?”

“I’m just watching.” Without looking at him you know he has a smug face that needs a good slap. “You’re making me nervous.”

He hums and moves his hand to pluck a strawberry. “Alright, how about this. I go on the couch and mess with the kid-”

“Kids. Yours is in there too.”

“Okay, kids, and you can make your cake, eh?” You groan then say yes. A sigh of relief leaves your lips when he leaves. You don’t really know his name and it is most likely vice versa, yet he acts like he knows you. 

“Whatever.” You wash the strawberries, getting ready to cut them. You hear Noa blow a raspberry as he speeds towards you. “Where’s the purple guy?” You whisper. Around the corner, you see him on the couch waving at you. “What’re you doing?”

“He wants to cook with you. I’ll stay in here while you two bond.”

“Mhm, take this time to bond with yours.”

You duck back in and continue with Noa. Surprisingly, he’s pretty good at it. However, he’s a robot so why wouldn’t he be? You deeply inhale and look at Noa, reminding yourself that he isn’t real despite this warmness towards him. Every cheer you give him when he correctly places something, or when you take the cakes out of the oven and let them cool and he bounces so cutely, you have to be reminded that he’s not your son.

  He’s fake. Even now when you two are coloring with Hitoshi Shinsou, and he scribbles circles, he isn’t your son. So, stop feeling this. Hitoshi is talking to a machine right now, not a child with your nose and mouth. The faces he makes that resemble yours aren't real. None of this is real. 

“This belongs on the fridge of fame.” You take Noa’s art and show Hitoshi. He goes along with it and claps. “Absolutely.”

The bell on your phone rings. “I’ll be back.” You get up and go to the kitchen again. The two boys follow you, leaving the baby on the couch. You wished they stayed so you can continue reminding yourself of that fact. No matter how precious Noa and this moment is, none of it is real. This moment is bound to stay with you, even though it is beautifully cursed. 

  The cakes are cooled down and you begin to assemble everything with shaky hands. Noa, of course, keeps dipping his finger in the whip cream and Hitoshi lingers around to do the same. Since he’s grown, those long fingers of his get smacked every time. 

 Your phone dings at an inopportune time. Your fingers are covered with strawberry juice and cream. “Um-”

“I got it.” He opens it and on the screen is Izuku. “Izuku?”

“Ooh, you two are on a first name basis already?”

“Shinsou? You’re there?” Izuku calls out. Hitoshi is holding the camera facing away from him, so Izuku has a full view of you. “Yeah, Hitoshi’s here.”

“You remember my name, princess?” 

“Now I do. You weren’t on my radar, babygirl.” He huffs and Izuku clears his throat. “Anyway, if you’re done Shinsou. (Y/n), I won’t be able to-” 

“Deku! Come on!” In the corner you see pink cheeks and brown hair. She’s quick and tugs on Izuku. “Turn off the phone!”

“In a minute Ocha-uh, Uraraka. It’s (Y/n).” She hums. “You can talk to her later, Deku. It’s your birthday!”

  Your breath is caught in your throat. You don't like this. This jealous and angry feeling in your chest. “I-I’ll talk to yo- okay. I’m coming. Give Noa my lov-” The phone hangs up.

 You take a deep breath and suck on your teeth. Your eyes go up to Hitoshi’s purple gaze. You have only known this guy for a hot minute, and so far, he has shown you how rude he is. Hitoshi’s judgment and mockery is something to be expected. Instead of being met with a mocking expression, it is blank.

  “If it makes you feel better, he’s going on a mission today.” 

“Why would that make me feel better?” Him eating his favorite cake that you and Noa made would be better. Him being here for the decorations Noa made out of construction paper and his scribbles would’ve been great. 

  “Because of his bad luck,” You side eye him, looking away from Noa’s increasing close space to the cake. It spells trouble but the boy who is supposed to eat it isn’t coming. “You seem to be into that sort of thing,” You smile a little. “Into pettiness. Maybe even vengeance.”

You are. He hit it right on the money. “Yep.” 

As he chuckles, you realize that he has a bit of a sultry voice. Although, you can’t tell if it is natural or if he’s doing it on purpose. Either way, hearing it, being near him like this, is making your face unintentionally warm. His fluffy, wild, purple hair stands in all directions, his tired eyes at first seem dull but his white pupils expanding tell otherwise; especially since he’s been here messing with you. 

  Hitoshi Shinsou is an enigma that is most likely hiding in plain sight. His reasoning may not even be complex. This could all be a joke.

“Figured.” He sucks his teeth and his purple eyes trail to you with a suspicious gleam in them. Noa shouts a loud ‘ hey’. 

You are saved from those weird thoughts by the sound of a robot. You go out of the kitchen and into the living room and see Hitoshi’s baby’s eyes fading. “Um, Hitoshi!”

  He runs to you and puts his hand on your arm. “Wh-oh, that.” You groan and smack his hand. “Will you take care of-wait, what’s his name?”

“I don’t remember. My partner was the one that named him.” What the hell? You groan and rub your eyes. You know that his project shouldn’t be a concern of yours. This robot has nothing to do with you. Yet looking at its eyes becoming lifeless is tugging at your heart. “His name is now…” A face appears in your mind. It’s familiar and sorely missed.

“Kenji.” 

“Alright, Kenji Shinsou,” Hearing the name of the man you miss the most causes your heart to clench. You clear your throat and say, “You should take care of him. This is your grade, too.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I, uh, don’t really know how.”

“Are you kidding me. So, this is why you're here. For me to take care of it.” You don’t even ask for legitimacy because you already know that heroes are totally dumb, rude, and useless. You were an idiot to find him somewhat kind. 

“I wasn’t raised around young kids like this. I changed him and fed him already. I don't know what else to do.”  You put your hands on your hips. “What if a baby needed help-”

“That's why I'm thanking you! Because you're right. I'm not going to lie though. I really don't know what to do.”

  You sigh. “This isn't my responsibility.” This project is a problem. Not just for your rights or physical wellbeing, but your emotions. As time goes on, you notice how hateful and angry you’re becoming while your maternal instincts are increasing. Even now with this doll that isn’t yours you feel protective. Is this hero taking advantage of it? Can you even see anything straight anymore?

“You don't have to help and I'm not asking. Honest to God, this is just a coincidence.” You hate this project. They're not real babies yet your heart is sad for it. The cursed heart strings tug for this dying machine.

“When did you do that?”

“At six.” You look at the clock. “It’s literally six o’clock. When?”

He rolls his eyes. “This morning. It’s a robo-” There’s a spike of panic, causing you to interrupt him. “Hush,” You gesture for him to sit next to you. “Check his diaper, first.”

  He goes to take his bottoms off. You mutter, “At least you dressed him.” Hitoshi scoffs and replies snarkily. “I’m new to this, not an idiot. Unlike some people.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Hm?” Y’know what, screw it. You were about to warn him what happens with little boys when the parent isn’t prepared, but screw it. Let him learn the hard way. You smile at Hitoshi who finally undoes Kenji’s diaper. Nothing. Nada. This boy doesn’t pee on him. 

  Your eye twitches. Hitoshi looks at you worriedly. “He didn’t do anything. Think he’s hungry?”

Through clenched teeth, you confirm that it’s most likely what’s wrong. “Do you even have a bottle?”

“Obviously. It’s right in there. Midoriya gave me a whole speech after I mentioned you in passing as the bossy princess who kicked me.”

 You laugh and place your hand on your chest. “Bossy? Me?” 

“I love how you don’t deny the princess part.” 

You shrug. “Because it’s true.”

He places the bottle in Little Ken’s mouth. The baby slurps the milk happily, slowly gaining color to his cheeks and light in his artificial eyes. It matches Hitoshi but he also strangely looks familiar. You can’t place it though. 

  “See? That’s all you have to do. Babies aren’t hard. It’s those little boogers that are a pain.” You point to Noa who is biting a crayon. “Spit that out right now.” His spit dribbles to the table as he follows your direction.

“Okay, now what?” Hitoshi takes the bottle from Little Ken. You point lazily to the baby. “Now you burp him. Easy peasy, just pat his back.” 

Hitoshi does so, careful not to hit so hard. Every once in a while he looks at you to see if he’s doing it right. 

“Why did you come if the party's still going on other than manipulating me? Be straight with me.” 

After Little Ken burps and spits up, Hitoshi gives what you think may actually be an honest answer. “I heard you were here so I wanted to see you. I wanted to thank you for reminding me that heroes have a job that includes more than public heroism.” He gazes into your eyes. “We have to save hearts, too. My partner isn’t participating at all. That doesn’t mean I don’t have too,” 

This project is breaking hearts, yours included. Not just because of dead beats, but the impending conclusion of the project, of Noa. So, what is he talking about? Heroes haven’t saved a single person here. 

“This project isn’t fair. There must be a reason and as a future pro, I have to walk with you. It isn’t right to leave you guys by yourself since I’m carrying the same burden.”

He cradles Kenji like a new dad. “Honest to God, I didn't come here for your help. I thought I was doing alright. Now that I see it,” He shrugs and purses his lips. “It is more than that.”

  So, he wants to suffer too? Before you can say anything snarky, you see the slightest shade of pink on the tips of his ears. There must be more to his answer to gain that color. An elusive answer that most likely won’t come up. Either way, you can appreciate his participation. It does soothe you to see that it isn’t just general studies that are working hard, there are some hero students with common sense. Maybe he’s giving you a little hope that you wanted to see.

Even if it is literally the bare minimum. 

Little Ken falls asleep quicker than Noa ever did. While his child is sleeping peacefully, your little monster bounces around, tired and fighting the urge to sleep. You try to calm him and get him to be quiet, lest he wakes up the baby. Today must’ve been exciting for him since he got to bake a cake.

  The cake! You stand up from the couch. "The cake! Wait,” You look down at Hitoshi who looks curious. “Um, do you want some?”

It’s Izuku’s cake but since he isn’t coming, why waste it? Besides, another birthday boy is here doing the bare minimum as a dad. 

“Only if you sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me.” He wiggles his eyebrows, earning a laugh from you. “Whatever. I’ll bring it.” Noa follows you with his arms up. Carefully placing the cake on a tray with plates and forks, you carry it to birthday boy number two. 

  You set the tray down and give him a slice. He goes to take a bite but you stop him by placing your hand on his. “Hold on, okay? Gimme a sec.”

You get up and turn off the main lights in favor of the lamp on the table next to him. A shadow of a smile graces his lips. It isn’t a smirk or something mischievous, it’s genuine. It tells of something subtly sweet. 

  Walking to him, you sing happy birthday in a soft voice. Noa looks in wonder at you as you come near. 

  “Happy birthday, to you!” 

He raises his eyebrows and pretends to blow out a candle. Little Kenji still rests and is now alive which makes you strangely content. This image is serene for some reason.

Hitoshi moans as he eats the cake. “Y’know, for someone who burns things, you can make a hell out of a cake.” 

Bastard.

Noa licks some of the whipped cream. Before you can retort with a snap, Hitoshi’s phone rings. He sighs and unlocks it. “Mhm, on my way.”

“Duty calls, kitten. I’ll be taking this-”

“Nope.” You snatch the plate from his hand. “You need to be able to hold Kenji.”

  Hitoshi glares then fades away and adopts amusement. He grabs Kenji and holds him awkwardly. You’re disappointed in yourself and how you caved and helped this bastard when you should’ve kicked him harder. The project is messing with you. Although you know you shouldn’t have helped, you couldn’t fight it. The baby was losing its life and parental instincts took over. 

A deeper part of you whispers in your ear when you look at the cake again. The cream has little streaks on it from Noa’s tongue and Hitoshi’s finger. Some of the strawberries have been plucked off and eaten. The one who was supposed to eat this isn’t here. Spending time with Hitoshi and letting him have a slice was some form of payback against the man with green hair.

“Thank you…for everything. I promise I will be the best single father you’ve ever seen.” 

 “You better be.”

---------------------------

You turn on cartoons for Noa who is still waiting for Izuku. He’s adamant that his papa will come tonight. You sit and wait with Noa and have least managed to convince him to eat something other than snacks. 

 After a while, the tv gets blurry and your yawn is deep enough to let the water in your eyes not be ignored. You blink rapidly and try to get rid of the sleep that presses on you like a blanket that wants to tuck you in. Unable to fight it any longer, your eyes close.

“You’re still up?” You gasp and sit up from the couch. Noa pops his head up and runs to Izuku who is in his hero suit with sweat is on his forehead and dust on his shoulders. He gives Noa a quick hug. You side eye him and bounce your crossed leg. “Papa will be right back, okay?”

  He stands and comes closer to you. “I’ll be right back, I swear.” He runs out, leaving a rush of wind behind. You clear your throat. “Happy now?”

Noa giggles as he dances and bounces in happiness. After rubbing your eyes, you go to clean up Noa’s mess. The bits of construction paper and macaroni litter the area. The brat tries to grab it all from you with a big frown on his face. “This is trash, honeybun. You can’t play with it.”

He presses his face to your legs and growls. That ‘ferocious’ noise he emitted from his chest turns to cries. “Noa, baby, all of this is trash. See? Over there are your toys.” Noa shakes his head and says no. 

“I’m back! Noa, what’s wrong?”

The baby walks to Izuku with tears streaming down his face. He lays it on thick for Izuku. You roll your eyes and continue to pick up the trash. “You don’t have to clean everything up now. Just wait until he goes to sleep.”

  “He has toys and paper over there. I need to clean this up.” You hear him sigh and say your name. You throw the junk away and walk back to the boys. Izuku pats Noa’s back. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You take a deep breath. “Don’t do this. You can’t be soft on him like that.” In the corner of your eye, you see the plates that hold bits of cake and strawberries. Grabbing the paper dishes, you head to the trash can in the kitchen. Izuku follows you with tentative steps. “What’s that?”

“Your cake that you missed.” You toss the plates away. “Is that why you’re mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” There are small steps diagonal from you getting close to your space. He is silent for a minute then in a quiet voice he asks, “Can I try it? I’d like to spend my birthday with you, if you’ll let me.”

“You already celebrated your birthday, remember?”

“I’d like to do it with you.”

  “I don’t have candles.”

“I don’t need them.”

 You nod and tell him to go sit down in the dining room. You suck in your lips to try and stop the smile. The rest of the cake isn’t pretty at all and you probably should’ve stored it rather than leave it out for a few hours. Its quality most likely went down. No matter, this is what he gets.

  You grab the last sets of plates and forks. In the dining room, Izuku waits patiently while Noa is clapping when he sees you come in. Izuku’s eyes light up and mimic Noa’s. Even with the cake not looking the best, that ball in your gut that spiked horribly with insecurity disappears. 

“It’s your favorite so-”

“What?”

You shrug, trying to appear casual about knowing that. “I- uh, Noa and I- made your favorite cake. It’s not much. It was prettier earlier.”

  He looks confused with his head to the side. “Chocola-never mind! I love it!”

  You set a plate in front of him. “What were you about to say?”

“N-nothing!”

“Izuku?” 

Hesitantly, he answers you. “Chocolate’s my favorite. B-but trust me, I’ll love this.” Your mouth drops. Hitoshi fucking Shinsou.

Hitoshi wanted to take a slice with him and he’s the one who gave you that fake ass information. You’d bet your left titty that strawberry shortcake is his favorite. Your hands start to shake thinking of the snake.

  “I like everything you make…” Those words stop your hands. His kind eyes are enough to settle you down. “We still have one more thing to do.”

Just like you did before, you sing happy birthday. This time, Noa joins with his own version. Izuku, with the help of Noa, blows out the imaginary candles. You take a picture of the boys on your phone. Both have goofy and cheerful smiles despite the cake mishap. 

  After one picture a ding and glow in Noa’s belly signal growth. Your breath hitches as you see a boy that once looked identical to you, gain Izuku’s undeniable features. His face and eye shape is definitely from Izuku. Noa’s smile now matches the fluffy green haired hero. Your son’s skin that matched yours morphs into an even blend from both of you.

 Noa genuinely looks like the two of you. Before, the similarities between them could have been argued. Now? Not a chance. 

  For the first and probably final time, you have reached a conclusion with Izuku. Despite your pettiness and you being a prideful, ornery, angry, brat, you come to realize that his kindness blows that away. It is a gentle and welcomed breeze that calms you. He went to his friends and a mission for his birthday but came back to you and Noa. You finally accept that Izuku is his dad. This isn’t to spit at Kaibara’s face. You now understand that it is reality.

 You take another photo then switch to video for a special reason. “Izuku, can Noa share a birthday with you?” 

He stares as if he didn’t hear you. Then he grins like a light is glowing inside. His green eyes shine with joyful wetness from the tears that want to come out. This is not happiness, a temporary thing that can be frayed, but joy. “ Yes! ” He picks his son up and spins around. “Hear that Bud? It’s our birthday today!”

Noa laughs with him. You record all of this, including Noa’s real sentences about birthdays and his papa. How you made the cake with him and something about heroes. All the while Izuku’s eyes are watering at his present and Noa’s immediate development.

 You will keep this one for yourself and tell Snipe to kiss your ass.

------------------------

As you eat Hitoshi’s favorite cake that happens to be sliced on a plate courtesy of his friend Izuku, you decide to bring up his names for you. It is something that you noticed and is becoming more frequent. With playful squinted eyes, you tease, “You’ve been calling me names, Deku.”

He swallows his bite of cake and furrows his brows. A bit of whip cream is on his face and the juice from a ripe strawberry is on his lips. He says it isn't his favorite cake but he sure is slamming down on it. 

“I’ve never called you a name.” 

“You call me ‘dearest’. Why?” He shrugs. “Because it fits.”

 That makes you instinctively touch your cheeks with your hands. You are sure he noticed if his small smile and the light pink flush across the apple of his cheeks and nose is anything to go by. 

It fits you. He thinks you are his dearest. It is his birthday today, yet this feels like a gift to you.

Happy birthday, Izuku and Noa.

--------------

You stop reading your book when you notice that there hasn’t been a sound other than even breathing. The two boys sleep on your bed, exhausted from the fun they had. Izuku’s face is covered with scribbly lines from the washable and some permanent marker. Noa still has his macaroni jewelry on him and a construction paper crown. He lays peacefully on Izuku’s chest. His little body dinged a short lullaby to signal that he is asleep.

  You watch contently in your new chair that Izuku took upon himself to get for you. When he gifted it to you a few days ago, you didn’t point out that it is too big to fit in your room. Nevertheless, it’s perfect for this view and the relaxed ambiance. Your dim flower light on your desk shines as best it can and Noa’s hero light cube swings colors around. It’s peaceful. Beautiful, even.

  Taking a deep breath, you continue to read the story. It isn’t a thick book at all and yet is rich with the story. In a soft voice, you tell the story of the greatest love there ever was.

“The dancing princess was distraught at the news of the fate of Ernest Appleseed. She vowed to never love again, to never sing or dance. Her feet will be forever planted on the ground with her beloved Ernie. 

Years later, when she had grown from a little bud to a blossoming young woman, Honeycomb accidentally caught the eye of the arrogant King Pumpernickel,” Your eyelids begin to get heavy. Before you can read another sentence, you drift to sleep and into the meadow, just like the book describes. Several of the book’s symbolic flowers, four leaf clovers all around, and plush, green, grass underneath you grows underneath you. 

Suddenly, Izuku makes a quick jolt in his sleep. You can hear him groan and squirm. You are too tired to stop your eyelids. As you settle, your quirk activates, not on its own, but by you. 

--

 You walk the mystical purple lane that smells of lavender, a calming scent. With one more step into the darkness, the creaking sound of a door echoes behind you. In the overwhelming darkness, you see the shape of his current dream. It is oddly shaped and glowing red. It pumps like a steady heart with a strange deep bass.

You try to knock on its fleshy surface without being sucked into its gooey softness. From what you can feel, the inside isn’t hollow at all. Without delay, you lay out your own dream. The purple mist encompasses his shell, his imagination line. You press against it for it to harden to Izuku’s shape in an attempt to crack it open. You give up on forcibly dominating him from the outside.

With clenched fists, your hand goes inside the gross red figure. The slime on it stains your body and nightwear like sticky blood. In no time, you are inside with a harsh suck. 

You land on the cracked, dry ground. There is a thunderous dust cloud that heads towards the masses. Flames burn it from above with a scaly white hand. The hand puts itself on the greystone castle. Underneath is tremendous pressure that cracks its walls. You watch the hand grow black claws, leaving embers in its wake. 

Although you weren’t there, this reads of a memory everyone in the world has. The secondary image of the wars that had raged against the world. They have always been something no one wanted to envision or experience. Now, you are here in what looks to be a warped first hand experience.

You want to rip this terror to shreds. To wipe away the horrors that Izuku is facing.  

 Green light surrounds him as he raises his fist to fight. “Izuku?” His world freezes. Even the air stills, the cracks in the ground stop growing and the glare in his eyes start to fade when they slowly look into yours. Your hand releases a purple film that spreads like weeds on the ground. It overtakes the cracks bit by bit.

You step on its rigged surface. “Don’t! You’ll-” Nothing happens to you or the healthy and plush grass grows underneath it. His chest heaves as he looks you up and down. Even Shigaraki looks confused, at least from what you can see. 

  He turns to you running faster than a bullet. Shigaraki’s hand now comes to you. Izuku, despite his speed, goes into slow motion. Your heart breaks at the pain he’s feeling. You extend your hand to meet Shigaraki’s to stop the decay. 

“Don’t you trust me, Izuku?”

 Tomura’s hand is covered in swirling purple until the flowers from the book sprout from his flesh. Tomura jerks away from you, sending his elongated hand back to him. Izuku looks you up and down when he grabs you. It goes dark for a second, just one second for you to see the symbolic and most cherished flower of the book blossom before you. Seven silky petals bloom surround a smaller bud that begins to separate and shows many more. The flower is thick yet delicate and beautiful. Once the flower matures, the darkness begins to fade. 

He holds your hands in his. “Do you trust me?” 

“Please, you have to ru-”

“Do you trust me to make you happy?”

He’s fast with his answer. “Yes.” He presses his forehead to yours. “I’m scared, (Y/n). I can’t protect anyone,” He taps his head against you twice. “You’ll fall-”

  You touch his cheek. “ Trust me . Hold my hand.”

He closes his eyes. The purple mist thins and glows to a sharp ray that shoots up to the sky. Slowly, the shiny violet color encompasses the form of the dream. It spreads along the land, casing over every crevice. Meadows and beautiful trees plant along what used to be destroyed homes and people. Cars that were wrecked are now healthy horses and caved streets of pavement are now dirt paths and cobblestone. In the far north is still the threat of his nightmare. Tomura still reigns as a king with All For One hovering over him shaped like a dragon. His nightmare is still here, blended with your dream. You look down to see that you’re even wearing what Honeycomb would wear, and Izuku matches Ernie. 

  Outside the purple layer, the shell of your dream, is the surface of his. It formed into a ruthlessly beating heart that you slowly break from the inside. It shatters and leaves glowing red shards all over until some fade into black dust, while the rest solidify into the ground.

“What-”

“I will hold your hand. Just take it and trust me and mine.”

  This dream is a whirlwind of twists and turns as he fights villains with a sword, not once killing anyone. Despite the brightness he has daily, you now know that he suffers from the guilt. You can’t take the source of the dream away, but right now, you’re holding his hand by being inside with him. A hand to hold is what he needed tonight.

-

The dream is coming to an end, you think. He holds your hands when he helps you down from the majestic white horse. His loose white shirt has dust on the sleeves and dirt on his green vest yet you don’t mind when you grab onto him. The sword he used to defeat Shigaraki and All For One who was painted as a dragon, is secured on his hip. In contrast to his nightmare of his supposed weakness, he grasped and used the sword to symbolically hold onto the strength he believes he lost and never had to begin with.

  With beautiful twisted trees that grow flowers that wish to hang above the two of you, the picture is like the storybook you read to him. The book that you made sure to envision for a sweet dream. 

You didn’t think he’d complete it himself. You didn’t finish the book since he fell asleep. So, as his warm hands encase yours, he leans in slowly. If you were awake, you wouldn’t have believed he would kiss you. That he succeeded in gaining one of the five legendary kisses described in the book. 

 He cradles your jaw and kisses you softly. Your eyes are wide, not expecting it. Your heart is beating fast. Out of instinct you want to pull away. The urge leaves when you question why you’re fighting it.

You throw your arms around his neck and kiss him back. The birds sing a beautiful harmony as a tear streams down your face. Yes, it is a dream. But it is one for the ages. He may not remember you using your quirk and that’s fine. He may not even remember this dream and that’s okay, too! What matters is that he defeated the dragon in an epic battle with a sword he forged himself and took the king down without killing him.

  What will secretly stay in your heart is the joy you feel. That he, on his own, is dreaming of kissing and saving you of all people. 

“You’re haunting me, aren’t you beloved?” He whispers on your lips. His green eyes are slightly open and look into yours with great fondness. “As long as it’s you, do what you please.”

  One arm goes around your waist and the other to your head. Your leg pops up and the sun begins to set. 

Happy birthday, Izuku Midoriya.

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[forgottenflickr]

This sounds silly, but oh my gosh— this blog just makes me feel so much whenever I see a new post from here in my dash. I didn’t think it was possible to feel that specific kind of emotion before. Like… on one hand, it makes me really really sad, that there was a time on the internet when we didn’t have to worry about AI scraping and reverse image searches and could just post our silly little everyday pics. That was before my time, but I wish that I could still do that now.

On the other hand, this makes me also feel incredibly touched. I love this so much because it’s just small glimpses of people’s lives, shown through a medium that no longer exists (I don’t think people still post this kind of content often or have the platform for it?). It’s the view someone thought was pretty on a day when I was two years old and I will never meet this person and maybe they’ve passed away and maybe they no longer think of that view or maybe they dream of it but either way, here I am, staring at the snow on the glass and like… fuck.

Beauty is eternal, of course, but the most wealthy in societies across history have tried to leave great monuments for us to remember them by. But I’ve never looked at those old statues of great and felt this way about them. I see the slaves who built them and the emperors who were forced into marriages and died young. (Though there can be beauty there, too, sometimes — not all artefacts or rulers created equal, of course.) But these pictures… they weren’t taken with that intent. They were uploaded to be shared, sure, but the contents of them — rainbows, teddy bears, pets. People sharing what they love with us, who they will never know, and we who will never know them.

That just makes me so oddly emotional for some reason. I do follow a religion but I also feel very deeply about Earth and civilisations and humanity, about what we put into the world and what we leave behind when we’re gone. And this blog, for me, is a literal time capsule of why I cry to be human, sometimes — because love never ends, does it? Someone loves something enough to take a picture of it, because it touches their heart. You love these pictures enough to start this blog, because they touch your heart too. I see them on my dash and they touch my heart too. Years or identities don’t matter, but the love has stayed. Been built on, even. Is there anything more beautiful than that?

I’m literally crying all over again, so basically — what I wanted to say is that I think this is a really cool blog, op, and thank you for sharing these photos with us <3

❤️❤️❤️

[pequins]

i need his hairy, bear body crushing mine as he pounds me thx 🎀

[lunareiitic]

HSR 1.6 SPOILERS AHEAD BE WARNED

I saw a discussion on Reddit earlier where someone talked about how gracious Herta is to Ruan Mei and felt that the plot shows that Ruan Mei is taking advantage of her and I felt like... it's not a bad conclusion to draw from the text but. It feels not correct. Like yes, Herta essentially does let RM do whatever she wants, especially with regards to the space station, and RM doesn't seem to be very thankful for it. (Setting aside the fact that it isn't really Herta's space station. Asta's the one who bankrolls and manages it. It's just got Herta's name on it. Herta is just as uncaring to the researchers lmao) But to call RM a "passive manipulator" (yes, I saw this take too) of her and nothing more I think... overlooks both of their personalities? Taking into account that both of these characters are essentially confirmed autistic (go see the official post about the Genius Society, you can't make this up) their dynamic is a little tragic but very true-to-life.

Herta is loud, pushy, and bratty. She's like a cat- she doesn't take no for an answer and the moment you try to get her to do something she doesn't want to do she goes limp and useless. She admires Ruan Mei because she's nothing like her. And RM would never push Herta to do anything. RM doesn't push. She doesn't even really manipulate. The woman cannot lie to save her life. All she did was ask Herta if she could use part of the space station and Herta obliged, and it sounds like she'd been waiting for Ruan Mei to finally ask her for something. RM doesn't really have a malicious bone in her body. That's what makes her so terrifying. People are often just willing to do as she asks and she makes no pretenses or illusions about herself, her motives, or her life. The closest she gets to lying is just not answering when pressed. She is so socially inept she has to drug the trailblazer into silence so they'll help her. And I think this is... out of embarrassment? If it were me, an autistic bitch who cannot lie to save my life, I would want to do something similar. She knows she's gotten herself into a situation because she left the incubator on too long and then the space station got attacked, but admitting that to Herta would wound her pride and also cause friction between them. You can tell that she brought the Trailblazer into that Genius meeting because she was afraid Herta and Screwllum had caught on to her, and once she realizes that it's just them debating about (in her eyes) nothing, she lets the Trailblazer go. I've seen people call that "callous", as if she was dropping them as soon as they were not useful to her. But she says why she does it basically immediately- she thinks it would bore us and she has something else more important that she needs our help with.

I think the part of Ruan Mei's character that people are overlooking right now is that Ruan Mei does care. Look at the story bit for Genius' Repose, where she serves machine oil in a teacup for Screwllum and promises to send a box of homemade sweets to Herta's flesh-and-blood body. She's the kind of person who is actively thinking of her mother and her grandmother and their little home in the snow every time she eats something sweet. Her creations are literally desperate with love. Love, love, love, love. Love that feels alien to her, love that she can't put into words, love that her alexithymia won't let her ascertain and compartmentalize. Love that is as elusive and vexing and important as that spark of the divine soul she's been chasing all this time. She loves and she loves deeply, to the point of obsession. But she's in love with the past as much as Herta is- their signature light cones both have them reflecting on a past version of themselves that they know they cannot have back. She quite literally brought her mother back to life because she couldn't bear to break a promise to her late grandmother (who... somehow, is still waiting for her... somewhere). She's a deeply sentimental person. Haven't you ever looked at other people and felt, even for just a moment, that you are apart from them? That they have something you lack? What if you let that feeling consume you? Ruan Mei yearns for a world that she cannot touch because she's lost the trees in the greater forest of her mind. She feels the need to become god because she feels so utterly alienated from the world around her. But she can't escape herself, no matter how far she runs.

I guess what I'm trying to say, is that Herta and Ruan Mei are friends, even if Ruan Mei doesn't feel that she's capable of it. It makes a lot of sense that they're both ice too, element ruled primarily by The Remembrance. I wonder how they both feel about that?

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Dogs

Hildur Knutsdottir: submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call this the tale of the night guest Knutsdottir: its about a woman who gets a full night's sleep so you would think she would be well rested (she's not) Knutsdottir: it's almost like something is possessing her while she sleeps (something is)

Knutsdottir: this possession Knutsdottir: you might think it's the yule lads (it's not the yule lads) Knutsdottir: or maybe grylla (its not grylla) Knutsdottir: perhaps its the hidden people (its not the hidden people)

Knutsdottir: now this woman also has a dead sister Knutsdottir: so you would think maybe the ghost of her dead sister is possessing her King: Poe: Lovecraft: Koontz: Barker: King: um King: was there supposed to be a parenthetical there Knutsdottir: not saying

Knutsdottir: now of course when this woman has weird sleep problems, you would of course take advantage of our socialized medical system to see a doctor (she does this) Knutsdottir: but even socialized medicine is not free from the scourge of sexism (there's a lot of it) Angela Carter: yes yes this scans

Knutsdottir: anyway that's the Icelandic socialized medicine system for you Dan Simmons: why do you have to bring politics into this? Simmons: i just want a nice apolitical scary story Knutsdottir: ok i'll fast forward to the cat murders Lovecraft: WHAT

Knutsdottir: yeah someone's been killing cats (it's her) which you wouldn't expect (she loves cats) Lovecraft: i can't listen to this! Lovecraft: i can tolerate rac- Barker: we know howard you say that everytime Lovecraft: it's my catch phrase! Barker: no it's not!

Knutsdottir: every night she walks across the city (to the harbor) Knutsdottir: now you think she might be visiting Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur (but she's not) Cynthia Pelayo: aw that hot dog ain't no good! King: what? hot dog? Knutsdottir: you're entitled to your opinion (it's actually the best in the city)

Pelayo: what dya even put on a hot dog over there? King: why are we talking about hot dogs? Knutsdottir: með öllu Pelayo: pfft! með öllu indeed! Pelayo: ya don't even know what you're getting!

Pelayo: i tell you, you want a hot dog, you get it CHICAGO STYLE Pelayo: mustard, chopped onion, pickle spears, sport peppers Pelayo: YEAH! CHICAGO STRONG, BABY!!! Pelayo: GO BEARS OR MAYBE WHITE SOX!!!

Knutsdottir: no no see a hot dog should have remolaði sauce (and apple ketchup) Pelayo: wtf! the only sauce that goes on a dog is mustard Knutsdottir: WHAT?! like the infidel bill Clinton?! (he ordered with only mustard during his 2004 visit) Knutsdottir: NEVER!!! Knutsdottir: it's með öllu!!! always með öllu!!!

Lovecraft: now i prefer my sausages providence style Barker: no you don't Barker: that's not even a thing Lovecraft: no it is! its when you put a Vienna sausage on a slice of white bread Barker: howard, we all know you don't eat ethnic food

Pelayo: who's ready for mouth watering hot dogs?? Lovecraft: ah sausages! Pelayo: Hebrew national hot dogs! Lovecraft: Lovecraft: [sweats]

[caeslxys]

Something I think is extremely interesting thematically when it comes to connecting what Downfall and the ideas it tackled to the overarching narrative of campaign three is that the things Downfall made a point to showcase of Aeor—Cassida, Hallis, the visual of an aeormaton proposing to her partner, the specific and intentional decision to shed light on a far from insignificant amount of the population being civilians or refugees—is that it plays in perfect parallel across from what is happening (and, really, has been happening) to the ruidusborn on Exandria in present.

Bear with me for a moment. Aeor is ultimately a city that was collectively punished for the decisions of its leadership. We could (and, judging by the amount of discourse around this particular topic already, probably will) argue about what the Gods’ motivation for all of this was—whether it be that they could not, in the end, bear to kill their siblings or that they were terrified at the prospect of mortality—for me it is a very healthy dose of both—but for this I am much more interested in the latter. They were scared. That, really, is the driving force behind both this arc and their role in c3 as a whole.

Why I point this out is: It is far more interesting to me, especially as we go back to Bells Hells this week, to dissect the Gods and their decisions not purely on sympathetic motivation alone but as beings in the highest seat of power in the highest social class in Exandria.

So, having established that the Gods (in relation to mortals) are more a higher social class than anything we could compare to our real life understanding of divinity and that Aeor was eviscerated largely because of their fear—what is the difference between those innocents in Aeor caught in the trappings of their autocratic government leadership and a divine war on the ground, and those of the ruidusborn being manipulated both by Ludinus and by the very thing that inspired such visceral fear in the Gods to start with. I would argue very little.

I think of Cassida, doing what she genuinely thought was right and good and would save people, her son, and the object of her worship—and how that did not matter enough to any of them to spare her because of the fear they held at the very concept of mortality. I think of Liliana and Imogen, one of which we know begged for the gods to help her or send her a sign for years on years, and how every single one of their largest struggles could have been avoided had the gods loved them, their supposed children, as much as they feared what they could be. I think of how the thing that did save Imogen, in the end, was a woman who herself existed in direct defiance of the gods will. I think of that young boy, sixteen years old, that Laudna exalted on Ruidus.

I think it’s completely fair to judge Aeor’s overall society as deeply corrupt—it was!—but its leadership and police force are not a reflection of every one of its citizens. Similarly, it is fair to judge the Ruby Vanguard as corrupt—it is!—but its multiple heads of leadership and even the god-eater further are not a reflection of every one of its members.

Notably, and what I think the Hells will latch onto, this did not matter to the Gods. It did not matter that Cassida was trying to help. She was still too much of a risk. Will it matter, what Imogen does? Will it matter, if that young boy is in the blast radius when they decide to take no further chances?

I’ve seen a lot of people say that the Hells will side with the gods and I don’t think I agree. Especially as Imogen has been scolded and villainized over and over for daring to try and save her mother—who herself has been seen by some as an irredeemable evil in spite of her drive being the exact same—her family—but when it’s the Gods it’s justified? When it’s the Gods, it’s sympathetic? Too sympathetic to criticize further than “they’re family”?

I obviously do not think the Gods should die or be eaten or what have you, and I certainly don’t agree with Ludinus (though I find him much more compelling than just a variation of hubris wizard), but when talking about the Gods in Aeor and in present it isn’t really at all about their motivation or their family. It can’t be. Too many people, including our active protagonists, lives have been effected for it to be as cut and dry as “they’re family”. These are your children. They are your family, too.

[autistichalsin]

And again:

The death penalty should not exist.

Not just because of the risk of innocent people being killed wrongfully, though yes, that is a part of it. But guilty people shouldn't die either.

Yes, that includes those ones. The ones who did the worst crimes imaginable, who harmed children, who killed innocent people- them, too.

Why?

Because no one has the right to kill another human being, and two wrongs don't make a right.

Because the instant you give a government entity the authority to determine who is and isn't worthy of life, you have already handed them the framework to get rid of undesirables. As we're seeing now the "pedophiles deserve the death penalty -> LGBT people existing next to children is pedophilia" pipeline.

Because if your government can kill you, they already have too much power over you.

Because the death penalty does nothing to actually deter crimes, and some studies suggest it might actually make the rates of violent crime increase.

Because our tax dollars shouldn't go to depriving people of their lives.

Because the only method of execution that comes close to being humane is lethal injection, and even that has a high failure rates as well as requiring medical professionals to break their respective ethical codes; in fact, pharmacists have started refusing to provide various DOJs with murder euthanasia cocktails precisely precisely because this goes against the principles of "do no harm."

Because it usually takes 20 years from sentencing to execution, and that constitutes psychological warfare/torture on prisoners.

Because there is nothing a death sentence will "accomplish" that can't also be done by a life sentence, minus the ultimate cruelty and power-trip for government officials and cops/wardens/etc. If the goal is punishment, deprivation of freedom already does that, let alone the rest of the mistreatment prisoners face. If the goal is sequestering from society, that is literally the definition of imprisonment.

Because, this bears repeating, if the government can kill you, they already have too much power over you.

Because forensic science is nowhere near as perfect as people want you to believe.

Because even when it is proven that there is sufficient cause to release an innocent person, those in power still will (as we saw today with Marcellus Williams) do everything in their power to murder them anyway for the sheer power-high.

Because it is better to let 100 guilty men go free than it is to convict one innocent one.

Because there are huge inequities in who gets the death penalty. Racism is baked into the entire "criminal justice" structure, and capital punishment is no different.

Because, by definition, anyone willing to execute another person is the last person who should be given the power to do so.

Because, it bears repeating, once you introduce a framework to remove undesirables from society, it will be expanded at the first opportunity.

Because the death penalty is, by definition, cruel and unusual punishment.

Because the death penalty is often carried out on innocent people (like Marcellus Williams) who have been wrongfully convicted as a way of silencing them and ensuring they can't file a wrongful imprisonment suit against the state.

Because the existence of a death penalty gives people who committed a single violent crime a motive to do more; if they're already going to die, why not take more people out with them?

Because the entire mindset of death being an acceptable punishment filters down into day-to-day life and encourages proliferation of distancing, dehumanizing language against people some don't dislike, which is part of the reason why so many teenagers have no problem saying "kill yourself" to others.

Because there is no accountability in the prison system for how those on death row are treated, and any abuse inflicted on these prisoners in their last days will never come to light.

Because it is wrong. If a private citizen can't kill another person, who can a private citizen employed by and acting on behalf of the government do it?

Because, it bears repeating, if your government has the power to kill you, they already have too much power.

There are zero good reasons to support the death penalty, and hundreds of good reasons not to.

[nyancrimew]

fucked up sorta intoxicated long vent

cw: uuh mental health, drugs, suicide mentions, very much is just an existential crisis put into post form

this is not a suicide note or anything, im about to go cuddle up with my wife and go to sleep i just had to get my fucked up thoughts out, i might delete this tomorrow

meaning

it's so hard to find meaning in life anymore. i live for those around me, for those i love, those who love me back. yet i keep hurting them, everything keeps falling apart. i live out of spite, i cant let authority win. yet im slowly giving up my cause. i live to prove a point. ive long forgotten what point it even is anymore.

there hasnt really been any new compelling reason to keep going in over 10 years now. i honestly wonder how much it even really takes anymore to drive me to suicide. it can't be that much, im already always living on edge.

i just barely know who i even am anymore, ive largely forgotten the first 20 years of my life, and the last 3 are mostly just fog as well. forced to live in the moment, carrying all the baggage of all the previous moments i dont even have memories of anymore.

how are people just like able to keep living, regularly finding joy. how are people able to deal with bad times without immediately pondering all the ways in which they could kill themselves in?

god i need therapy so fucking bad. i keep dragging down everyone around me. how can i fix all the damage ive done, a sorry won't do. how can i fix all the damage done to me, no sorry will ever do.

why are the only options to just keep going, ignoring all the pain, or ending it all forever. where is the restart button, where can i reset, rewind, apply what ive learned to the situations where i fucked up. how do i go back and undo all the trauma. the trauma i experienced myself and the trauma i put on others.

we're all just lost children in a world not made for us. where is our world. where is the place in which we can find solace. your arms make me feel safe, and at home. but i know you feel the same way i do.

it pains me to know we're in this together, god if only i could bear your pain, if only i could bear everyone elses pain. it hurts me to know you feel this way too. no one should have to know how this feels. i wanna take on all the pain in this world so i can leave and turn the world around.

am i just failing at being a part of this society or is society failing me. i am like one bureaucratic fuck up away from dying alone on the street with no roof over my head. i cannot be self dependent, why does this society fully expect such a thing of me.

is this all worth it for the few moments of bliss, for sparing the people around me from the pain of losing me. would the pain of losing me be greater than the pain i cause every day?

i am lost. i dont know anymore. fuck i need therapy. or just anything that can fix me. the drugs certainly haven't yet, but at least i also have dependency to fight with now i guess.

yea fuck man idk