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belladxne · 3 years

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i will see you where the shadow ends | chapter 8

[see notes for ao3 and ff links]

part of the put your faith in the light that you cannot see series AU: Breath of the Wild pairing: KiriBaku word count: 6,638

chapter 8: i think you should know this uncertainty has got me restless

Eijiro’s not really sure what he was expecting when he finally saw Aizawa. Inko had called him a young man—probably because, by comparison to her, he was—but she had also said he’d been one of Katsuki’s advisors one hundred years before. The end result was that Eijiro had had a completely incongruent mental image of him, something somewhere between, like, some mysterious Sheikah warrior in his late twenties, and a wizened, decrepit old sage with endless patience and kind eyes.

The Aizawa he gets is… not either of those things. Like, not even close.

Even in age, he’s neither young like Inko had said, nor as old as he logically should be if he was around a century before. If Eijiro had to guess, he’d put Aizawa somewhere in his sixties; the man seems old but not tremendously so, with a few spare wrinkles pressed into the lines of his face here and there, and hair gone white with age—only the leftover strands of black littered throughout indicating that his hair wasn’t always traditional Sheikah white.

But it comes down to a lot more than just his age. Eijiro’s kind of surprised that the esteemed leader of the Sheikah has such bloodshot eyes and disheveled… uh, well, everything. The faint, soft smile just barely tugging at the corner of the man’s lips is the only clue at all that the man’s expression is ever anything but unimpressed exhaustion, which just—isn’t what Eijiro would expect.

As his feet carry him further into the room, the man’s eyes drowsily close again and he shifts to scratch the area just below his left eye with his pinky, letting out a slow exhale.

“Judging from your silence, I’m going to assume you don’t remember me,” he says before his eyes sleepily blink back open—seriously, Eijiro has to wonder if this man has slept a day in his life—and Eijiro falters in his tracks.

“Um… no, sorry,” he shakes his head, biting at his lower lip in something like guilt. He—he hadn’t really thought before this about the fact that he probably should know Aizawa, if they’d both been around Katsuki one hundred years before. He hadn’t really sat still long enough to think about it, and now, as he studies the man’s face, for the first time thinking to look for anything familiar… he tries, but he finds nothing to recognize at all. “You’re—you are Aizawa, right? You—uh, Midoriya Inko? Said I should speak with you?”

Eijiro almost winces at how jumbled and awkwardly unsure it all comes out—but he hadn’t really sat still long enough to think about what to say, either. Aizawa’s eyebrows raise, eyes widening just slightly in surprise. Eijiro supposes that’s fair, considering— ...well. Considering.

“Well,” he says, his voice somewhat quiet. There’s something heavy masked in his tone, and he nods slowly. “I suppose that explains how you’re here. When we discovered the entrance to the Great Plateau caved in and blocked, we weren’t sure what could be done. It was too near Hyrule Field to justify an effort to clear the boulders—too exposed—and no one could put forward a more rational plan to get up to the plateau to leave you a message.”

Aizawa sighs, deep and honest, admiration and something a little more raw, more world-weary and mournful clear in his voice, “Midoriya Inko was a remarkably compassionate woman. I suppose it doesn’t surprise me that if anyone were to make a way to help you, it would be her.”

It’s… hard for Eijiro to think of her as dead—weird, even with the fact that she’d revealed it herself before he left the plateau. It just doesn’t click in his mind, on so many levels. Maybe it’s that most of the time they spent together was under the pretense she was alive, or maybe it’s that it’s such a surreal notion to think that the one person he’s spent the most time around since awakening wasn’t even living, or maybe it’s something else entirely.

Whatever it is, hearing her spoken of in the past tense is unsettling and—just—feels wrong. Sharp teeth poking at his bottom lip, he nods slightly, unsure how to respond. How to even begin to express just how much help she’d been, just how kind she was. Aizawa, for his part, doesn’t seem particularly interested in waiting for an answer, though, already pulling himself back to the topic at hand.

“While your memory loss is likely going to prove problematic at some point, for now I think we should consider it a blessing in disguise.”

Eijiro’s jaw drops, incredulous. “Wha—how?” His lack of memory grates at him, constantly—an always-present weight on his mind whenever he does or doesn’t recognize anything. It makes him feel so—so—frustrated and lost; the only connection he even has to who he is is Katsuki’s voice calling to him from the castle, and he still doesn’t even remember what the prince looks like.

He’s adrift and clueless, and it’s supposed to be a ‘blessing’?

A weary huff escapes Aizawa, who levels him with his surprisingly intimidating stare. “As our crown prince was particularly fond of telling you: you, Kirishima Eijiro, have always been exceedingly reckless. I have little doubt that if you remembered everything, you would already have made an ill-advised attempt to raid the castle, without stopping long enough to listen to reason.”

Eijiro doesn’t particularly want to tell him that he already can hardly restrain himself from doing exactly that. Pouting slightly, his gaze drops a little as he mutters, “Inko told me I shouldn’t.”

“And she was able to get the advice out before you’d already charged off, a fact we can all be grateful for,” Aizawa responds. Resting both his hands on his knees in front of him, the man releases a sigh. “But more so than that, there’s the nature of your memories to consider. The Calamity one hundred years ago… the events that passed were catastrophic, and for those left who lived it, to even bear the memories of what we’d seen is an unimaginable weight. To bear what you endured, Kirishima… I wouldn’t wish it on you, or anyone.”

Inko had said something to the same effect when she’d finally begun to explain things to him—he’d been unable to hold it against her at the time, but hearing the same sentiment echoed now, he grits his teeth.

He wants to—to yell, kick things, throw a tantrum if there was half a chance it might make a difference. He has to have that right, doesn’t he? To demand why everyone thinks they can decide for him what he can and can’t handle—especially when it comes to knowledge about his own self.

It’s just—it’s not fair. None of this has been fair and he’s starting to get sick of it.

As though the man can sense his line of thoughts, Aizawa leans forward, giving him a pointed look.

“Our first priority will be helping you recover your memories, Kirishima, and I am already dedicated to helping you do so to the full extent that I am able, but for now, I think we should be grateful that any time it takes you to remember will be time you can spend bracing and preparing yourself. The horrors you experienced are not to be taken lightly.”

Lips pressing together, Eijiro’s brow furrows. His hands fidget with the hem of his tunic in irritation, but... the assurance that Aizawa will help placates him some. The frustrating truth of the matter is, he trusts Inko completely and totally, and she had thought the same of how potentially overwhelming the news of what had happened to him could be—and if she trusts Aizawa to help him, he has little choice but to accept the man’s judgment. However begrudging and incomplete that acceptance may be.

“If—then—” Not for the first time—far from the first time—Eijiro has so many questions he can’t sort through that he doesn’t even know where to start, his words halting and stumbling over each other in his attempt.

They’re distracted before Eijiro can decide where to begin, however, by a faint creaking behind them. Eijiro turns, and he and Aizawa both direct their gaze to the entryway, where the little girl stands, fingers curled around the doorway as she peeks in with wide eyes. Eijiro feels the brunt of his stressed dissatisfaction drain, slightly, now that the tension has been broken by the interruption.

“It’s all right, Eri,” Aizawa calls to her gently, inclining his head. “You can come in and listen.”

She hesitates a moment or two, still seeming somewhat skittish, before she slips past the door, moving closer to Eijiro.

“Eri, this is Kirishima Eijiro. You remember the stories I’ve told you about him?”

The little girl—Eri—nods, gaze flicking to Eijiro once more as she edges closer to him. Again, he tries to give her his friendliest and most encouraging smile despite his lingering frustration. He thinks, maybe, she seems at least a little emboldened as she continues to approach him. Little victories.

“Kirishima, this is Eri. We rescued her from the Yiga Clan not long ago, and I’ve been taking care of her since. I trust I don’t have to tell you to be patient with her during your time in Kakariko Village.”

“Of course,” Eijiro responds with a firm nod, before turning again to the little girl, beaming. “It’s nice to meet you, Eri.”

She flushes, nodding quickly and looking down at the floor as she grabs again at the hem of her tunic. The Yiga Clan… it’s another piece of knowledge that does come back to him when he thinks. They were—are—a group that splintered off from the Sheikah. His memory of history more or less seems to be intact, because he can remember, somehow, that the Sheikah clan had been scorned and shunned by a Hyrulean king thousands of years ago. Out of... fear of the advanced Sheikah technology that had since been buried, he thinks?

Most of the Sheikah had decided to give up their technological advancements and hide them under the ground, but some of them had resented the king turning on them. Those were the ones who had formed the Yiga Clan, a merciless group dedicated to bringing back All for One and bringing about the deaths of its enemies.

Which meant Katsuki, and him. He manages to avoid his expression twisting in distaste, unable to picture a clan like that as being the most nurturing of places. From what he can imagine, and what he can gather from Eri’s easily frightened nature, it’s a very good thing they’d gotten her out.

“Returning to the matter at hand,” Aizawa says, directing Eijiro’s attention back to him. “You’ll know by now that one hundred years ago, the kingdom of Hyrule was destroyed. Prince Katsuki’s last action before returning to the castle was to demand you be placed in a sacred slumber in the Shrine of Resurrection, to save you. His intention was to go alone to face All for One, and hold him off until you were healed, but Midoriya Izuku was here when he arrived.”

Eijiro nods, brows tugging together guiltily as his gaze fell to the floorboards. “Inko told me—told me he went in my place, because he was also a chosen of Farore.”

“Eijiro, look at me.” Aizawa’s voice is firm, and Eijiro has a hard time finding reason to refuse such a stern demand. Reluctantly, he presses his lips together and lifts his head, to meet Aizawa’s gaze. Some of the exhaustion there has ebbed, replaced with something a little more fierce.

“Neither of them were under the impression that Midoriya Izuku could take your place, nor did Midoriya believe he was obligated to undertake this burden due to some nonexistent failing on your part. Do you understand?” His tone leaves no room for argument, expression steely and unyielding. “They were under no illusions that even the two of them together could do more than buy time for your return, but that is a choice they both made, on their own—and it is neither your fault, nor something they bear any resentment towards you for. Those are the facts of the matter. Do not allow yourself to think any differently. It’s hardly rational to martyr yourself over this. You’ve already done more than most others could ever have accomplished.”

Gritting his teeth once more, Eijiro’s fists clench at his sides as he tries to bring himself to agree. Inko and Aizawa are both so insistent that he’d gone above and beyond, but he can’t remember that, can’t see any proof of it in the devastation of a kingdom he can’t even recall the heyday of. The only thing he has evidence of is that he’d fallen.

Before he can argue or force himself to accept Inko and Aizawa’s words, there’s a tugging at his waist, surprising him out of his thoughts. He blinks, looking down to see Eri’s hands wrapped tentatively around the Sheikah Slate, eyes wide and a little pleading.

“Oh, uh—” He lifts his head to look to Aizawa, unsure, but the man inclines his head in assent, so Eijiro shrugs and manages a smile directed down Eri’s way, helping her unclip it from his belt. “Just... be careful with it, okay?”

She nods adorably seriously, clearly taking his words as a matter of grave importance, before beginning to poke around the Sheikah Slate with so much confidence it’s like she’s an old pro. Eijiro watches, impressed, and it dawns on him in the moment that he might need to rethink his prior judgments on babies using Sheikah Slates, before the matter at hand tugs at his attention once more.

He doesn’t know if he can bring himself to really believe Aizawa, but it’s all beside the point.

“But...” There’s a furrow in his brow and an uncertain flex to his hands, no longer fisted tightly at his waist, as he tries to get his bearings. “Either way I have to help them. I’m—they’re running out of time, and I’m the only one who can do this, right? So how… if I can’t go to the castle, how am I supposed to help them? Inko said—said you’d know what steps to take?”

Aizawa nods, and Eijiro will concede that even if this haggard, overworked-seeming man is far from what he’d expect from a confidence-inspiring leader, or a trustworthy advisor, there’s something to the man’s demeanor.

He speaks as though his words are indisputable, tone almost bored in the thorough assurance that he’s voicing the only logical conclusion to be drawn from all the facts at hand. It makes it hard to question or deny what he says, and the calm, methodical way he carries himself makes it hard to panic. Eijiro can see why the Sheikah would trust him to lead them, why a royal family would trust him to advise.

“The only reason Prince Katsuki risked his life returning to Kakariko at all was to entrust me with a message for you. I’ve been holding onto the words he intended for you for one hundred years.”

Eijiro finds himself holding his breath as he waits for whatever could be such a grave message, wondering what could possibly be the kind of thing he couldn’t tell Eijiro himself. This—it has to be what Eijiro’s looking for, the thing that’s going to give him some—direction, finally.

He’s had no idea what he’s doing, what he should be doing, since he woke up. It feels like he’s had nothing to cling to but confusion and a sense of hurry up and wait—the urgency of being told that Hyrule needs him and that Katsuki and Izuku have been fighting his battle for a hundred years, and the maddening hindrance of being told he couldn’t even go do anything about it yet. If Katsuki left such an important message, he has to know what Eijiro can do now. He has to.

Aizawa seems to be examining Eijiro as he weighs his next words, but before he can finally give Eijiro the answer he’s been looking for—a small, confused sound interrupts them.

“It’s broken,” chimes a tiny, unfamiliar voice at his side, and Eijiro blinks as he looks down at Eri, realizing this is the first time he's heard her speak. It doesn’t register for another couple seconds that she must be talking about the slate still resting in her hands, as she frowns down at it.

Alarm fills him—how can it be broken? It’s practically the only way he got this far, and it’s Katsuki’s—Katsuki had said he’d need it to get around, he can’t have gotten it broken already.

Resisting the urge to snatch the device out of a literal six-year-old’s hands to confirm, Eijiro looks back to Aizawa for—for—well, he doesn’t know, but maybe some reassurance, or indication that the man just assumes Eri doesn’t know what she’s talking about, or anything. Aizawa isn’t looking at him anymore, though, and his expression is anything but reassuring. Eyes slightly wider and posture suddenly straight, in a manner that would have looked like alarm on any marginally more emotive man, Aizawa’s gaze is fixed on Eri.

“What do you mean, Eri?” he asks, managing the urgency Eijiro can just barely hear in his tone admirably—for Eri’s sake, presumably.

The girl frowns at the slate in her hands, looking first to Eijiro, and then to Aizawa with the most minute furrow between her brows. She has the runes screen open—all of a sudden Eijiro’s doubting the wisdom of letting a little kid handle a device that can make bombs—but before he can process the concern, she answers.

“Aunt Emi’s takes pictures.” She taps what looks like an empty rune slot on the screen, to the right of the cryonis symbol. There’s a spark of confusion in Eijiro’s mind, but then he almost lets out a sigh, because if that’s the only thing wrong with the slate then he still has all the things he needs—but Aizawa leans forward with a grim intensity that makes him rethink that.

“Is the album still intact?”

Eri shakes her little head, but begins operating the slate with effortless familiarity once more, switching to the map screen before confirming, “It’s not there.”

Aizawa hisses something under his breath that Eijiro has the distinct impression is a curse, and Eijiro’s eyebrows lift slightly. Aizawa runs a hand through his hair, expression drawn together in serious thought.

“Is...” Eijiro hazards, voice tentative as he glances between Eri and Aizawa again, “is that something I’ll need?”

It’s another moment before Aizawa returns his gaze to Eijiro, racing thoughts having apparently run their course. “For most parts of your mission, the album will be a frivolity that has no impact.” He pauses, and his tone leads Eijiro to expect the but. “But it serves a far more important purpose in the grand scheme of things.” Swearing under his breath once more, Aizawa leans back wearily.

“I can’t in good faith expect you to undertake any of the grave challenges laid before you if you can’t even remember for yourself the importance of what’s expected of you. If you have any desire to recover your memories, that album was meant to be your greatest asset.”

Eijiro’s eyes widen, a flash of distress sweeping through him. “Wh—but I can get my memories back without it, right?”

Aizawa’s lips press together in a tight line, and again there’s an uncomfortable pause before he sighs. Posture drooping, he drapes his forearms across his lap and all at once Eijiro gets the impression of the past century weighing physically on the Sheikah. “If we’re being rational, we have no guarantee that you can recover your memories at all. The intended purpose of the album was to aid in that process, but there are very real possibilities that you could get your memories back without it, or that even with it you may never remember at all. What’s important is not to panic.”

And it’s rich—it’s so rich of him to say that, as if that is not one of the most panic-worthy things Eijiro has heard since waking up.

“But I—I—” His words fail him, and how could they not? How could he possibly be expected to put into words how badly he wants to remember everything about a voice that isn’t even familiar to him? Maybe it’s just because Katsuki was the first contact he had after waking up, but Eijiro hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it—about Katsuki, more than any of the other blanks in his memory that plague him every second of the day.

It’s unbalanced—he’s important to Katsuki, he knows he is; he can tell just from the way Katsuki talks to him. How can he be content to know there’s immeasurable history behind every brief conversation they manage to have, when he can’t even put a face to Katsuki’s name? How can he be content doing that to Katsuki?

“Kirishima—” There’s the faintest note of impatience in Aizawa’s voice, but then he stops, seemingly catching himself, and when he continues, it’s with a tone minutely more gentle. “Eijiro. It’s pointless to work yourself up over a scenario that may not even come to pass. You won’t do yourself any favors by giving up hope just because there’s a chance you won’t remember. And as for the album, there’s still a chance it can be restored.”

Eijiro lets out a shaky breath, still trying to calm himself. It’s not that Aizawa’s not helping, not that his words don’t have any effect, but he can’t just turn it off.

“Okay,” he manages—though his voice isn’t as firm or as certain as he’d like. “Then, what would I need to do?” His gut still roils with unease, faintly, despite his efforts to let Aizawa’s words comfort him, but he doesn’t know how he’s going to deal with—with any of this if he can’t cling to his own next steps, to what he can do about it.

Aizawa nods, either acknowledging or approving of his attempt to focus his efforts, and the man swiftly seems to gather his thoughts. “You’ll need to take that slate to my colleague, Fukukado Emi, in Hateno Village. She’s been studying this technology since before the Calamity, and she knows more than anyone else in the kingdom about the slates specifically. If there’s a way to restore the album, she’ll either know it or she’ll find it.”

Okay… Okay. This is doable, if what Aizawa’s saying is true. Eri still holds the slate in her hands, so he can’t look at the map, but he tries to do the math from memory—not counting for the distractions and rest in the middle, it had only taken him about four hours on horseback to reach Kakariko from the horse stable, and Hateno had been about… maybe twice as far from the fork in the road?

If he leaves now—doesn’t let himself get distracted along the way—he can be in Hateno maybe a couple hours after sunset, give or take, he could—he could maybe even have the slate fixed by—

“You’re already getting ahead of yourself.” Aizawa’s sigh cuts through his thoughts. “While your eagerness is written all over your face, so is your exhaustion. And don’t think I’ve missed that glaring bruise on your head or the way you’ve been favoring your left leg.”

Eijiro flushes, something between embarrassment and shame, and he opens his mouth to protest—Aizawa’s already shaking his head wearily.

“I understand that the position you’re in is frustrating, but it’s better you understand now—there is no way to save Prince Katsuki in a matter of days. There is no way to save him in a matter of weeks. The task laid in front of you is too monumental for that, and to approach it sensibly will take time. With how long this will take, you will have to learn patience eventually, and it will be better for you to do it now, when your recovering body will need it most. Have I made myself clear?”

Eijiro feels his face twisting in aggravation, eyebrows drawing together and a pout tugging at his lips. There’s a few moments of silence in which he meets Aizawa’s flat, unimpressed stare, and then a huff escapes him. “So… what, then? I’m supposed to just—sit on my hands, or something? Do nothing despite what’s going on in the world?”

“You’re supposed to take the time you need,” he responds, eyes closing as he blatantly attempts to maintain his own patience. “You will have to get stronger to conquer any of the challenges put before you, and continuously throwing yourself from task to task without allowing yourself even a moment to heal from your injuries will only weaken you. Take the day to rest, get a long night’s sleep in a real bed, set out after you’ve recuperated and not before.”

Eijiro’s hands flex and clench at his sides, and try as he might he can’t make the tension drain despite his sigh. “Sir, I don’t think I can just—sit around that long.”

“Nor do I expect you to. There’s hardly a shortage of things to do in the village in the meantime. If you’re really at such a loss what to do, you can start with sitting down. No doubt you have countless questions about yourself, and the world. I’ll try to answer them for as long as I’m able.”

That—Eijiro had been so frantic to figure out what he needed to do, he hadn’t even thought of all the questions that have been threatening to burst forward like a flood since—since Katsuki had first spoken to him, really. So many that he’s never been able to figure out which to ask first, and, to be fair, he doesn’t think he’s been able to just… sit and ask them all, yet. No one’s been capable of answering them, and there’s always something else to do.

Scratching idly at the skin beneath his eye, Aizawa pushes on, offering more options to fill his day.

“I’d recommend acquainting yourself with the people in the village, it will be good practice; with limited travel and communication, there’s no one person alive who can tell you all of the evils All for One has unleashed in this kingdom. Speaking to those who will have had to coexist with those evils will reveal far more to you than I can, and it’s important to remember that there are problems on a lower scale than All for One itself. There is a fairy fountain on a hill that overlooks this village—it would be wise to touch base with her, in the event she can aid your travels. And if you’re truly incapable of taking it easy for an entire day, the village has an ancient shrine that you may be able to access.”

Done with his list, Aizawa blinks tiredly at Eijiro, gaze flat. “There should be more than enough to amuse you in the village for one day, but I will remind you again not to strain yourself, so I don’t have to confine you to the village for another day.”

Eijiro takes issue with that—it’s not like Aizawa can really stop him from leaving, but… “I… fine. You… you’ll really answer all of my questions?”

The Sheikah nods. “As many as I’m able, for as long as I can keep awake. The pains I took to ensure I would be alive for this day were effective, but they are, unfortunately, exhausting.”

Eijiro hesitates, curious and concerned. How much of a strain did he have to undertake on Eijiro’s behalf? “What… what did you have to do?”

“It’s hardly anything to write home about, to be frank. I thought I told you to sit down.” The last part is delivered in a slightly more stern tone, and Eijiro blinks, flushing just slightly as he hurries to do so. Seemingly satisfied, Aizawa deigns to answer in more detail. “The Sheikah have been pledged to Bakusatsuo for longer than we have been pledged to his descendants, the royal family. The result is that we’ve always had a special relationship with his first domain—time.”

With a heavy breath and the faintest hint of a shrug, the older man continues, “It’s likely I would have been alive to see this day even had I not taken special precautions; time has always been kind to the Sheikah, and not in a metaphorical sense. Oftentimes our people are blessed with exceptionally long lifespans. But there is also a sacred practice, cultivated and passed down since the first of our kind used it to aid Bakusatsuo in his first human incarnation: a meditative trance that slows our aging even further.”

Aizawa grimaces just slightly. “As I said, it’s nothing exciting, nor is it any sort of taxing process. But the meditation cuts into many of the hours that should typically be spent sleeping. I catch sleep when I can get it, so it will be best not to waste much more of my few waking hours if you’d like most of your questions answered.”

Nodding slowly, Eijiro finds himself fidgeting slightly, gnawing on his lip with pointed teeth. “I… Man, I honestly don’t even know where to start.”

Aizawa tips his head in acknowledgement, seemingly unsurprised. “That’s fine. Fortunately, we have time.”

“Oh, man!”

Eijiro jumps, slightly, at the sudden exclamation from beside him, jerking his head around to stare at its source—he hadn’t even heard anybody enter; it’s like the guy had melted right through the floor or something. It’s a little jarring, since everything about the man’s appearance is, well, loud, from his distinct posture and animated expression, to the bright blond hair he sports in an ostentatious gelled up style, to how boisterous his voice had been.

And yet Eijiro hadn’t so much as heard a door hinge or floorboard creak.

“I guess I shouldn’t bring your lunch for you, huh, sir?” he asks, cartoonishly blue eyes twinkling like he’s sharing a joke. “I don’t want to be responsible for you falling asleep with your face in your rice again!”

Aizawa’s apparently too tired to dignify that with a response.

The guy has a point, though; for the last half hour that they’d spoken, Aizawa’s eyes had drooped closed more often than not, and several times Eijiro would almost have genuinely believed he’d finally fallen asleep for real were it not for the Sheikah gesturing lazily for Eijiro to continue with whatever he was saying.

“Togata,” he acknowledges, sounding barely half awake. “I’ll eat later. This is Kirishima Eijiro.”

“Yep!” Togata responds, not skipping a beat. “Eri told me all about it.” He turns to Eijiro, then, as Eijiro rises quickly to his feet, and Togata smiles wide and offers an enthusiastic bow. “Togata Mirio! Honored to meet you.”

Eijiro’s mid-bow when the words register, catching him off guard. His cheeks heat up and he rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck as he flounders for an appropriate response. “Oh, I—I mean… I’m just a guy, man.”

“Sure,” he agrees easily. “But that just makes you even cooler, though, you know?”

Aizawa takes this moment to slump down in the haphazard pile of cushions and blankets that reside on his place of honor—not very traditional, but then, he doesn’t seem like a traditional guy—and the rustling pulls their attention, saving Eijiro from having to figure out how to respond to that.

“Togata, show Kirishima around the village. It would probably do him well to see what help the Great Fairy can offer him, as well. Just make sure he takes it easy, and if he tries to leave the village before a full night’s rest, I give you full authorization to stop him.”

“Sounds threatening!” Togata chirps, distinctly lacking any sort of hesitation as he stands up straighter and salutes. “You got it, sir.”

Eijiro takes offense to that order, glancing back and forth between the two, but Aizawa seems to have passed out the moment he finished speaking so he can’t even protest the lack of faith. Or the attempt to decide for him what he should do. He huffs, and Togata claps him on the shoulder, steering him towards the door.

“Come on, hero! Let’s see the sights.”

The sights turn out to be, well, not really much, but Eijiro wasn’t actually expecting much, to be fair. Togata walks him through the village, chattering the whole way about this and that. He’s kind of an odd duck, going on the strangest of tangents and making some of the most out there remarks, and he talks not just with his hands, but with his whole body. He seems to like to emphasize his words with an entire rework of his posture here, a full gesture with both arms there, a bizarre stance thrown in from time to time.

In short, he’s great. Weird on the disarming side instead of the offputting side, and his quirks just make Kirishima all the more comfortable chatting back, and getting fired up himself.

The first set of important landmarks, if you can really call them that, mostly gain their notability from gossip surrounding them. Togata introduces him to a Haya Yuyu standing outside an archery supplies shop, explaining cheerfully that she’d gotten the part-time job there because she’s the best archer in the tribe these days, but she can’t stand to actually work inside the shop because the owner spends all her time loudly and openly lamenting her failing marriage and the fact that her husband has abandoned his own archery.

Miserably, Haya shushes them, her voice low in pitch and volume as she laments, “It’s all day. ‘Show me your form, Haya. My husband’s form used to be like that.’, ‘Do you think you could hit that shot, Haya? My husband used to make shots like that without breaking a sweat.’.”

She sighs, heavily, then looks to Eijiro. “Look—pretend you didn’t hear this. Buy some arrows. I get paid for convincing people to shop in there, and I’m saving up to buy something cute for Nejire.”

“Ooh!” Togata chips in, “She’ll love that.”

“Oh, um.” Eijiro has no idea who Nejire is, nor has he taken a moment to count how many rupees he’d stumbled on in monster camps or hidden around the countryside. He does distinctly remember finding some hefty sums hidden in long-abandoned chests along the way. “Yeah, I’ll see! Once I check how many rupees I’ve got, I’ll make sure to stop by.”

“Thank you,” she replies, emphatically, before slumping down on the veranda that wraps around the shop. Togata gives a chipper wave, before once again steering EIjiro away with a hand on his shoulder.

The next place he shows Eijiro is the general store, where apparently you can find most goods from the town except for their famous fortified pumpkins—the owner’s husband, fond of growing swift carrots, is in an ongoing feud with the man who grows the pumpkins, and won’t let his wife sell them out of pride. It’s all very amusing, Togata assures him.

After that, he shows him the inn where he’ll be staying, points out a plum orchard apparently fiercely guarded by a sweet old lady, and then guides him to a dining area beside the general store. A girl maybe around nine is manning the cooking pot there, as Eri and another Sheikah girl who looks a little younger sit nearby. Togata introduces the two as Koko and Cottla, and merrily asks what’s cooking as he sits Eijiro down with the younger girls and helps Koko finish preparing lunch. Togata seems to be a natural at entertaining kids, wide gestures and silly expressions drawing delighted reactions from all the girls. Even Eri, who still seems reserved in company, watches him with starry eyes.

Koko and Cottla, who seem much more bold than Eri, are very curious about Eijiro and pelt him with questions he does his best to answer through mouthfuls of food, but Togata does a good job of keeping the conversation focused on all of them. He treats all of the events and concerns in the girls’ lives as just as grave and pressing as the topics he and Eijiro have to contribute, and Eijiro has to admit, it’s delightful to watch.

Once lunch is finished and Eijiro and Togata have helped the girls clean up, Togata makes sure Eijiro is aware of the small shrine to Bakusatsuo across from Aizawa’s home, the location of the armor shop, and the cucco coop now looked after by the infamous husband of the archery shop owner, before pulling them to a stop at the foot of a hill just up the road.

“Just up there’s the shrine, and past that is the fairy fountain. Y’can’t miss it!” He claps Eijiro on the back and gives him an enthusiastic shake for good measure, grinning. “I’ve got a shift patrolling for monsters and Yiga, but I’ll see you at dinnertime. Don’t leave the village or else, right?”

Eijiro shoots a glance at Aizawa’s home, muted irritation trickling back in at the reminder, but when he turns back to respond to Togata’s ribbing, he’s just gone. Eijiro whips his head around, trying to figure out where he went, but there’s no sign of him. Maybe the guy does just melt through the ground.

Regardless of how he does it, that’s how Eijiro finds himself making the trek up the hill overlooking the northern edge of the village alone. The path then winds into the hills a little further, steep inclines starting to cut off the view of the village as he passes the shrine and climbs further into a wooded area. What would a Great Fairy fountain look like? He just has to hope it will stand out as much as Togata assumed.

Eijiro yelps as suddenly two—creatures? Small, and bunnylike, and glowing blue with… antlers?—startle at his presence and bolt through the underbrush, and he thinks, You know what, yeah, okay, that kind of weird shit is probably a sign of a Great Fairy. Eyes now peeled for the strange or unusual, he picks his way through the woods and—there, a flash of pink.

He makes for that, woods parting to reveal the glimpse of pink as one of a few small, glowing fairies that scatter when they notice his presence, and—

—And what the hell is that?

There’s—it’s—he’s face to face with what looks to be the biggest flower bud he’s ever seen, twice as tall as he is, closed up tight with massive thorns dotting its outside. It’s, uh, definitely a sight he can’t miss, and though he can’t really say it looks like a fountain, he gets the feeling from the fairies that had swarmed around it and the unmistakable ramp made up of vividly orange fungus leading right up to its base that, well, he’s probably in the right place.

Hesitantly, Eijiro sloshes through the clear, pristine water that pools shallowly around the bud, testing his weight on the odd platform. It holds beneath his weight, so he takes the couple of steps to stand before the plant—fountain?—and… realizes he has no idea what to do here.

He lifts a hand uncertainly, but before he can do anything he’s startled by the sound of splashing and shifting, muffled from… within the plant? Then suddenly the seam between two of the leaves making up the tight bud before him push apart just slightly, and—holy shit, that’s an eye the size of his whole face peeking out at him inquisitively from the gap.

“You’re not Yuyu! Or Mirio. Or Eri. Well, now I’m curious!” chirps a bright, resounding voice, and Eijiro thinks, Oh, boy.

#kiribaku #bakushima #krbk #bkshm #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijiro #bakugo katsuki #boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

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aion-rsa · 3 years

Text

Top New Young Adult Books January 2021

You Have a Match: A Novel by Emma Lord

Type: Novel Publisher: Wednesday Books Release date: Jan. 12

Den of Geek says: Theres something quintessentially charming about summer camp stories, where kids trade their day-to-day for the wilderness. But this protagonist can’t escape everything at camp, and she’ll need the help of her sister to figure out the story of more than one family.

Publisher’s Summary: When Abby signs up for a DNA service, it’s mainly to give her friend and secret love interest, Leo, a nudge. After all, she knows who she is already: Avid photographer. Injury-prone tree climber. Best friend to Leo and Connie…although ever since the B.E.I. (Big Embarrassing Incident) with Leo, things have been awkward on that front.

But she didn’t know she’s a younger sister.

When the DNA service reveals Abby has a secret sister, shimmery-haired Instagram star Savannah Tully, it’s hard to believe they’re from the same planet, never mind the same parents — especially considering Savannah, queen of green smoothies, is only a year and a half older than Abby herself.

The logical course of action? Meet up at summer camp (obviously) and figure out why Abby’s parents gave Savvy up for adoption. But there are complications: Savvy is a rigid rule-follower and total narc. Leo is the camp’s co-chef, putting Abby’s growing feelings for him on blast. And her parents have a secret that threatens to unravel everything.

But part of life is showing up, leaning in, and learning to fit all your awkward pieces together. Because sometimes, the hardest things can also be the best ones.

Buy You Have a Match: A Novel by Emma Lord.

Lore by Alexandra Bracken

Type: Novel Publisher: Disney-Hyperion Release date: Jan. 5, 2021 Den of Geek says: A twist on Greek mythology from an accomplished author promises creative world-building and fantasy adventure. Publisher’s summary: Every seven years, the Agon begins. As punishment for a past rebellion, nine Greek gods are forced to walk the earth as mortals, hunted by the descendants of ancient bloodlines, all eager to kill a god and seize their divine power and immortality.

Long ago, Lore Perseous fled that brutal world in the wake of her family’s sadistic murder by a rival line, turning her back on the hunt’s promises of eternal glory. For years she’s pushed away any thought of revenge against the man–now a god–responsible for their deaths.

Yet as the next hunt dawns over New York City, two participants seek out her help: Castor, a childhood friend of Lore believed long dead, and a gravely wounded Athena, among the last of the original gods.

The goddess offers an alliance against their mutual enemy and, at last, a way for Lore to leave the Agon behind forever. But Lore’s decision to bind her fate to Athena’s and rejoin the hunt will come at a deadly cost–and still may not be enough to stop the rise of a new god with the power to bring humanity to its knees.

Buy Lore by Alexandra Bracken.

Siege of Rage and Ruin by Django Wexler

Type: Novel Publisher: Tor Teen Release date: Jan. 5, 2021 Den of Geek says: This month’s high fantasy installment is the finale in a popular series, and one that makes us want to see how the characters arrived and where they go from here. Ghost ships! Mind control! Publisher’s Summary: Isoka has done the impossible―she’s captured the ghost ship Soliton.

With her crew of mage-bloods, including the love of her life Princess Meroe, Isoka returns to the empire that sent her on her deadly mission. She’s ready to hand over the ghost ship as ransom for her sister Tori’s life, but arrives to find her home city under siege. And Tori at the helm of a rebellion.

Neither Isoka’s mastery of combat magic, nor Tori’s proficiency with mind control, could have prepared them for the feelings their reunion surfaces. But they’re soon drawn back into the rebels’ fight to free the city that almost killed them.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Buy Siege of Rage and Ruin by Django Wexler.

The post Top New Young Adult Books in March 2021 appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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steveusesfaberge · 5 years

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Better Parent (pt. i)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: Steve’s approached by the Henderson duo while at work, and can’t help but lose himself in Y/N’s essence. He’s also extremely offended by her notion of claiming she’s the better party parent than himself...do they realize they’re simply an old married couple in the works? Nope.

Type/Style: Imagine, female pronouns

Warning(s): Fluff~, Clumsy Steve heeds all warnings... Oh, and a bit of cursing! >.<

Word Count: 3k

a/n: This is my first published Imagine of Stranger Things! I hope you all enjoy! Please send requests! I’m excited to write for you all! <3

Part 1 (you are here) - Part 2 - Part 3

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!-- The obnoxious noise of Scoops Ahoy’s service bell sounded off; resulting in the employees’ groaning in irritation. At the moment, Steve was sitting in the small backroom, playing a game of cards with Robin. The said girl peeked out the somewhat cracked sliding shutters and gave a wicked grin in her brunette friend’s direction. Steve raised an eyebrow as he placed his cards face-down on the table (knowing fully that if given the chance, the sneaky co-worker would cheat).

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” He asked with a creeping suspicion. He stretched in his chair, not having the motivation to attend to the customer with the speedy service they were demanding. Robin rolled her eyes. “If you weren’t in here, squatting on your ass - and actually doing your job - you’d realize who our fine customer in waiting is.” At that, Harrington leaned over to see for himself who this ‘fine customer’ indeed was, and when his eyes found his target - Steve practically fell out of his seat. “Y-You--It’s--I’m--wha--,” He was cut off as Robin pulled him to his feet by his shoulders. “Listen, dingus. If you stay here blubbering about it, she’s gonna think you’re irresponsible and can’t hold a job. Can’t have that now, can we?” Steve glared at her for the obvious usage of sarcasm and tease. “Now go,” Robin prodded,” It’s your turn anyway. You owe me from yesterday - leaving me to deal with Ms. Free Samples for an hour.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she shook her head giving him one final shove towards the doorway,” Yeah, yeah, you look great...no one pulls that uniform off like you do,” he didn’t appreciate her banter.

With that, Steve managed to pull himself out of the backroom - his hands nervously tampering with his (ridiculous) outfit; making sure he looked somewhat presentable. Normally, Steve was an ace at socializing - flirting was his forte and there was no denying it. But ever since he graduated...it seemed his high school charm had faded...turning into this...awkward...babysitter of six, ice cream scooping, monster fighting (total badass if you asked Steve), clumsy persona. Not exactly his ideal image of grabbing himself a date.

It was like, his whole game had been thrown off - and he’d complained to the kids more than enough when they ridiculed him for still not having a girlfriend. “Hey! I used to be a chick magnet! -- I-I still am!” “Yeah, yeah - make fun of me! It’s ‘cause of this dumb hat! My hair! -- The hat’s a cockblocker!” Despite his weak attempts at excusing himself; the party always seemed skeptical. Ugh...

“Ahoy, losers! Would you guys like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? -- I’ll be your Captain...what’s up Hendersons?” He greeted in traditional Scoops Ahoy fashion. Dustin always thought it was stupid, but Steve did it nonetheless - as he learned it always earned a giggle from the older Henderson.

“Hey, Steve, we’re just here for our usuals. Dusty’s gonna go hang out with the rest of the crew after this.” His attention was pulled to the girl before him. Simple (y/h/c) hair, (y/e/c) eyes, and a (y/s/t) complexion. Yet, he’d never wanted to run his fingers through someone’s hair so much...and had never wanted to simply stare into someone’s eyes for so long...or touch someone’s perfect, smooth skin--

“Helllllooo? Steve? Earth to Harrington? Did you hear me?” The brunette was snapped from his daze and he winced at the call to attention. “Um, yeah, um, yeah...um..........w-what?” His face heated up as he moved to scratch his neck, his hands then clumsily trying to hold himself up against the counter in the coolest pose he could muster in his flustered state. Dustin groaned, rubbing his eyes as he’d have to re-explain himself, but Steve was only concerned with the beautiful melody of a laugh falling from Y/N’s lips.

“You’re such a dork, Harrington,” she snorted while shaking her head, a hand placed to Dustin’s shoulder. Steve could only offer her a sheepish grin.

“He said, the gang was going to Wheelers’ house after this - and Dusty was asking if you could help me take all the kids there,” she rolled her eyes,” They’re too lazy to ride their bikes back, so we’d have to split them up in our cars.” Dustin pursed his lips, hands crossed over his chest as if saying ‘duh. You’d know that if you’d listened the first time, dumbass’.

“Uh, y-yeah, yeah. S-sure. I’m-m, uh, not doing anything after my shift. So, I’ll take them, yeah.” Dustin couldn’t help but cringe at Steve’s attempt at casualty. Either way, it seemed his sister didn’t even notice.

“Sweet! Glad to have you on board, Captain Steve.” She mused.

“The pleasure’s mine, Missy.” He’d managed the sentence without a hiccup and he was silently thanking his lucky stars. The small smile on her lips had sent him into an overdrive of ecstasy.

“Well anyway - I’d hate to be...that person...but can you get the ice cream now, Steve? I told Lucas I’d be with them...like...seven minutes ago.” Dustin interrupted with a raised eyebrow.

Steve glanced back to the curly-haired kid and nodded while rolling his eyes. “I’m so sorry, good sir. Let me get your dessert ready, heaven forbid those dipshits to wait another second!” Dramatically, he pulled a hand to his head and fluttered his eyelids closed for emphasis. Y/N shook her head, laughing to herself as she pulled the money from her pocket in preparation.

Dustin only groaned in annoyance and made a face at the young man.

Within the next few minutes, Steve had both of their orders made - he didn’t need to be reminded of the order themselves, as both were known by heart. “A banana split, with extra hot fudge, whipped cream, one scoop chocolate, two scoops vanilla, no caramel or peanuts - and yes, the chocolate scoop is bigger than the vanilla,” he placed it down in front of the pair and he saw the surprise on Y/N’s face and he caught the narrow-eyed glance Dustin threw him, as he recited the order perfectly...almost. “Oh, what about the--,” “Side order of chocolate chips? To, y’know, sprinkle on yourself?” His hand came up to do the motion of ‘sprinkling’; then adding a crooked smile the order was complete.

“And a regular sundae for my man,” he slid the other half of the purchase over while Y/N was still trying to overcome her shock.

“How...did you remember all that?” She asked while quirking an eyebrow.

Since the conversation began, Steve had slowly gained some of his cool and confidence. At least he was able to keep his words from tumbling over one another like a race to the finish line...

He shrugged. “I figured I’d remember it since it’s so complicated. Besides, you come in here like...every day, every other day...if I didn’t remember it, I’d be stupid.” She only grinned.

“If you didn’t know it by now, I’d think you were stupid too. How long have we been friends, Harrington? Two...three years?” Y/N questioned while holding out the exact amount of money to pay for the said ice cream.

“Have fun, lovebirds - I’m gonna find the others,” Dustin grumbled, excusing himself from what he thought, was an awkward conversing between sibling and best friend/idol.

Steve and Y/N only blushed at the notion of lovebirds, looking away from one another in the process. “That’ll be five-forty-seven, right?” Y/N said, clearing her throat. “Normally, yeah. But this one’s on the house.” Steve replied with a soft smile.

“You sure?” Y/N questioned, money still hanging in the air, her words slow.

“Yup,” he popped the ‘p’ and gave a nod to reassure her.

“Since when was Steve Harrington so nice?” She asked while giving him a fake dubious glance. Moving to stand to the side of the counter, in case someone else came in to be served.

Steve lifted a hand to his chin, as if in thought, and then leaned his arms on the counter’s surface. “I dunno...since, maybe...he realized he needed to be?”

He knew he hadn’t always been the best...erm...person. Steve was well aware of how much of an ass he’d been in the day, and so for him to give her such an answer - it was probably more sincere than she was expecting. Which was why he felt the need to have been nicer sooner; as the small lift of her lips had his knees go weak.

He watched as Y/N placed the spoonful of custard in her mouth, the short silence between them not uncomfortable in the slightest. They spent plenty of time together - from chaperoning the children to hanging out one-on-one, and even fighting off Upside Down nightmares together... If anything, Steve shouldn’t have an issue with talking to her at all. Yet, he did...because...well...who wouldn’t be a hot mess in front of someone so heart-stoppingly gorgeous in every aspect?

“Hm. I think the children are making you soft, Stevie,” she concluded while chuckling. Now seating herself on the countertop, turning her body to face his. He had to swallow the heat rising up because she looked breathtaking... Like a queen sat on a throne. Steve being just a commoner; the privilege of seeing such royalty before him...of course he’d be speechless.

“W-What? Soft! I’m not soft! Those dipshits just need a good role model, you know?” Y/N raised an eyebrow at him; his defensive state only proving her point. ”Besides,” he added,” I have to be responsible and nice...with you as the other role model, one of us has to be a good influence.”

“Pfft, as if! You’re the one who has the issues, Mr. I take an hour to do my hair,” Y/N scoffed while shaking her head.

“Hey, hey, hey! Don’t bash me,” Steve replied while moving to wipe down the countertop. “You gotta make sure you look the part too, Y/N.”

He glanced at her for a few seconds and then noted,” And it’s an hour and a half. For your information, dork.” It only caused her to sputter a laugh, trying to hold still so her sundae wouldn’t fall.

The conversation carried on, finally losing the playful heat and turning to their usual ‘talk about everything and anything, we have nothing else to do while we wait for the children’. Steve always loved these moments...their conversations always made his day - because just talking to her about why her neighbors were the reason she didn’t sleep at night....was enough for Steve.

During that time, Robin made her appearance and for a good few minutes, she’d stolen Y/N’s attention completely. To which, Steve only pouted and had a silent conversation with Robin about, through eye-contact.

What’re you doing? What is there a problem? Yes! This is supposed to be me, trying to woe her! You’re doing a wonderful job! Oh, shove one up it - will you? I’m trying!

“Wait - Steve, you tried to get Jenny Calif? Like...plastic Jenny Calif?” Y/N snickered as Robin re-enacted last week’s shenanigans of Harrington trying to score a date. He only flushed red.

“I...mean...it didn’t look like that.” He defended meekly. Gesturing to Robin standing a few feet away while trying to hold her imitation of him.

“So what? - Jenny Plastic Calif? I knew you were...like...desperate...but...I didn’t think you were...King Steve level desperate.” Y/N scoffed, a tease to her haunting words. Steve was taken back, they both promised to never bring up his...asshole phase...

He didn’t recognize her slightly insulting words for jealousy though, more so as disbelief and shock. Robin saw this though and tried to act on it.

“I know, right? This dingus was all like ‘Oh Jenny, haven’t seen you in a while...lookin’ good,’ and I was sitting in the back trying to drown out my agony.” Robin watched Y/N curiously and could make out the slender twitch of her lips. It seemed she was just as annoyed as anyone should be...when their (practical) boyfriend was making moves on another woman.

“Tsk,” Y/N sounded while pushing her empty dish to the side. The spoon still hanging out of her mouth, she moved over, booping Harrington’s nose. “You know better than that, Steves...you shouldn’t try and...cross species.”

Steve couldn't help the quirk of a smile. “Why’re you being so...ruthless...Y/N?” He whined while frowning. She shrugged. “Desperation is only cured by reality and truth.” Harrington groaned and gave her a gentle shove.

The duo continued their shift, accompanied by Y/N to entertain them through the process of work and waiting around. Steve was glad she was there to keep them company...if he were alone with Robin...Good Lord, all she’d do was drill it into him how oblivious he is, and how bad he is at getting your attention... By the time calling it quits rolled around, Robin was already on her way out.

“See ya tomorrow, dingus! Bye Y/N/N!” She called while waving. Leaving out the back door.

Y/N turned to Steve and he was just finishing closing the lids of ice cream, leaving every set up for whoever was to work the next shift. “What?” He urged, catching her stare. She only walked to the cash register and patted the free space beside it.

“No tip jar?” Steve only shrugged and pulled his hat off, running his fingers through his hair.

“I guess we didn’t think about it. Could get one starting week, I suppose.” He figured he could draw in some customers with luck...I mean, his good looks...right? Though some luck he had...it was like Steve The Hair Harrington fell off the face of the earth...

Y/N nodded and then said,” I’d leave a tip every time - just for your sorry ass.” Steve rolled his eyes as she continued,” I mean...Scoops’ gonna need more than a few bucks to hire a better sailor boy than you, right?”

“O-uch,” Steve retorted while holding his chest in ‘pain’. “You’re so mean...God, no wonder Dustin wishes I was his brother...Maybe he’s saving up for a new sibling.”

“Pfft, shut up, Harrington. Try all you want - the kids love me more, despite what you tell yourself before your bedtime.” Y/N explained while jutting a hip out. To which, Steve bumped purposefully as he walked from behind the counter. Only drawing that, oh-so-sweet grin from her...God, he was addicted to it.

“Yeah, right. That’s why they come to me when they need something,” he pointed out while the pair began walking towards the food court - where the kids said they’d meet them after Steve’s shift ended.

Standing so close to Y/N, Steve found his heart racing faster than what was good for him. Yet, her presence washed a calming sense...ironic really. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be six miles away from her...or six inches away. Either way, he wouldn’t be happy...

“They come to you because you give them everything they ask for,” Y/N laughed while expressing herself with a twirling hand-gesture.

“You’re just jealous.” He decided.

“And you’re just a gullible, delusional dork who gives our children whatever they want.” Y/N countered.

The only thing that Steve processed though was our children. Was this a sign? Did she mean that she wanted kids with him? With having a child that meant having a relationship with him...right? Like he’d be their father, and Y/N would have to be their mother...to make them...their children...well, he supposed they could always adopt--

“Steve? Helloooo? Goddamnit, he’s doing that thing again!” Dustin groaned. Steve hadn’t even realized they’d made it to where the party was and everyone was staring at him; as he stared at Y/N.

“Y/N/N what did you do to him?” Dusty accused while pointing a finger at her.

“Me? This idiot just stopped responding!” Y/N told while throwing her hands in Harrington’s direction.

“He’s probably just upset I’m the better parent.”

“Here they go again,” Steve caught the teasing mutter from Lucas to Mike and the exchange of a head nod between the gang.

He felt flustered and finally found his voice again. “You!? Wait - what? Since when! I drive them everywhere, I get them free ice cream, free-range in walking around backstage of the mall--,” He ranted off all the things he did and had ever done, for them and it only had Y/N smirking the kids laughing.

“See? What’d I say, guys? Gull-i-ble.” she articulated, speaking slowly as if to a child as she poked Steve’s chest.

“Yeah...Y/N’s right, Steve. You’re just easier to convince.” Max noted with a snort, she could see it a mile away...the way they argued like a married couple...

“I mean...you’re kinda soft for a guy who was once King of High School,” Lucas chipped in while shrugging.

“I think you’re just stup--,” Dustin was cut off as Steve grabbed his shoulders, pushing the curly-haired Henderson to the nearest exit.

“Alright, dickheads. If you don’t wanna ride your damn bikes home - shut your mouths and get going.” He grumbled.

“Moody, sarcastic shit,” Y/N whispered to El and Max who only nodded hiding their amusement with their hands. The three girls walked behind the comical duo - Dustin struggling to get Steve’s hands off him, and Steve struggling to keep Dustin moving forward.

“I can’t tell which is worse,” Mike started while walking with Lucas and Will.

“What? The way Dustin doesn’t seem to realize Steve trying to get with his sister?” Will asked while shaking his head.

“Or how Harrington and Henderson can’t seem to realize they like each other?” Lucas added in a slow tone.

“Like I said,” Mike snickered,” I can’t tell which is worse.”

---------

How does part two sound? I think so! >.<

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x henderson reader #stranger things imagine

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cavehags · 5 years

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do you have any articles you’ve read that accurately explain why you hate weddings and why they’re bad for women? i agree but i find it so hard to put in words so i need some ref

anon I want to have these resources for you!!! I do!!! but I have never found many compelling articles on this topic, and not for lack of trying. so I’m gonna try and gather up the ammo myself by going topic-by-topic, if I can. my hope is to give a holistic view of just some of the many, many harms marriage imposes on women. cw sexual assault, pedophilia, misogyny, abuse, basically everything bad.

i think a lot of people see marriage the way it’s practiced by 20- to 30-somethings in the coastal united states today as pretty much the only relevant snapshot of the tradition. if you’re a certain type of person, weddings make marriage look pretty good! most people enjoy lavish parties that someone else paid for. and almost everyone has, knowingly or not, been exposed to a lot of propaganda that states that a wedding is the happiest day of a couple’s life, that women in particular are or deserve to be in a state of bliss on their wedding day, and that all the trappings associated with weddings, from purchasing expensive dresses to purchasing expensive tablecloths, are fun expressions of the couple’s creative side. obviously this is marketing dialed up to eleven and none of it is true. further, people like to argue that because brides tend to take the more active role in wedding planning, therefore weddings are in some way a feminist practice (????). this is total nonsense. for a start, weddings put women on display as physical objects–just think of how much marketing goes into the idea that a bride should look perfect on her wedding day, with a dedicated stylist and hairstylist, a team of friends and relatives to get her dressed, and a dress that cost at least $1,600 on average (i’m not linking to theknot dot com but trust me, that’s what it says). don’t forget that there will be a photographer and a videographer there to capture the bride at her most beautiful. and you only have to google “wedding crash diet” to see how how beauty standards of thin bodies are a singular focus of obsession by the wedding industry.

putting women on display for their physical apperance disturbs me. enforcing the idea that finding a man produces the most beautiful day of a woman’s life also disturbs me. and marketing that pretends that the happiness of a couple is in some way connected to how much they spend on a big, dumb, sexist party also disturbs me. but that’s just weddings.

i could put aside my issue with weddings if weddings weren’t just the first day of marriage. because my real issue is with marriage. so anon, i’m going to take you on a tour of everything that sickens me about marriage to put all my wedding hatred into context for you.

marriage is an ancient practice and misogyny is embedded in basically every variant of marriage ever practiced in the world. the commercialized, commodified weddings practiced by affluent couples in the west today just put some gloss and propaganda on the old tradition. but the skeleton of the tradition is really fucking ugly and hateful towards women. and the more you examine how marriage plays out today, the more you see that that hasn’t gone away. and it never will.

let’s start with the basics. historically, marriage as an institution has reinforced the myth of male superiority by giving tangible structure to what was previously just a notion–the notion of gender roles. if a home contains one man and one woman (often a girl, really, but i’ll get to that), then it naturally follows that a man’s role is to contribute x, y and z to the household, while women contribute… uh, a through w at the very least. and often x, y and z too. so you’re immediately left with a society where men are expected to be active and women are expected to be passive. that mandated passivity erodes choice and freedom and consent.

many forms of early marriage permitted men to have multiple wives while women were of course tied to their one husband. across the board, the minimum legal age for marriage has been lower for girls than for men, since long before anyone understood fertility patterns; though it may have been stated in some cases that this is because women “mature faster,” the real reason is that men were expected to have established themselves and their wives were expected to be young, inexperienced and virginal. across the world, married women have often been treated as if the act of marrying a man symbolizes passing from one guardian to another; this is clear even from an extremely common ritual still practiced today–the changing of the bride’s last name to match her husband’s. and worldwide and throughout histories, legal systems have granted husbands the right to control their wives and everything in their orbit. this includes the practice of marital rape.

girls and women have always been denied choices and agency through the constraints of marriage. child marriage is an obvious example. in many parts of the world, girls as young as seven years old (which was the minimum in the united states in 1880, btw) have been forced to marry adult men. marriage is the only cultural ritual practiced in large numbers today that transforms what would be viewed as sexual assault on a child one day to a private family matter the next. child marriage is slavery and still takes place in 50+ countries today, including the US. child brides, who are often from poor families, are thrust out of their homes generally because their parents are looking to eliminate the financial burden of raising a girl. but in their new marriages, they are subject to violent rape and domestic violence, dangerously young pregnancies that put fatal stress on their developing bodies, and a host of inequalities in the law that permit their husbands to do whatever they want with them. marrying eliminates any chance of a young girl enjoying her childhood or pursuing an education. her life prospects are reduced to a short lifetime of unpaid domestic labor and sex she can’t consent to.

further, marriage between partners of any age is wrapped up in the idea that men must control women and girls’ sexuality. some have argued that the practice of marriage is commonplace for no other reason than to keep women’s sexuality in check. naturally, then, what we’re left with is a longstanding tradition of marital rape. throughout history, in many places, rape of a married woman was legally considered a crime against her husband and not the victim herself, as she was his property. extending that logic reveals that no husband could be found guilty of assaulting his property. so marital rape was commonplace, and was not even viewed to be a crime in many parts of the world until the twentieth century. through marriage and the misogynistic laws surrounding it, a very chilling sentiment was normalized: the concept that men are entitled to sex with the women in their lives. that perspective has not yet been fully destabilized. in a 2018 study of 4,000 british adults, a quarter of participants reported that they don’t believe marital rape is rape.

some other quick hits… the extremely widespread practices of paying dowries and bride prices further reinforce how marriage is understood as a transaction over a woman. and i wouldn’t want to overlook how the structured gender roles enforced through marriage resulted in trapping generations of women inside their home, where they were expected to do all the household labor and reproduce for as long as their bodies could support it. think of all the work those women could have done in the world, and all the worldly experiences that they might have had, if they were not trapped in their homes based on the idea that only their husbands had the right to experience the world.

marriage is a religious tradition that was eventually adopted by the state. but we already know that many religions were constructed by and to the advantage of men, and they are full of quite misogynistic traditions, including the ideology that shaped marriage rituals over the centuries. the state recognizes marriage and grants certain privileges to married couples that others don’t have access to. often these privileges can be life-saving, as in the case of the benefits pertaining to medical insurance. the legalization of gay marriage, and before that, interracial marriage, expanded the prospects of who was eligible to reap those benefits. however, there will always be limitations on who can enjoy those benefits–and use them to survive–so long as they are extended to married couples only.

and then suppose that a woman has decided that she’s seen enough injustice in her marriage and she would like to divorce. research shows that women face a great deal of gender-based scrutiny in divorce courts, and when men sue for custody–which occurs in a minority of cases–they generally win. and in cases of abuse, divorce is a costly obstacle to a woman escaping with her freedom. some abused women have said that the time-intensive process of divorce put them off of leaving. the regimented structure of marriage was a trap that subjected those women to a greater degree of violence.

so! all this being said, i am adamantly against marriage. i cannot see a version of the practice that doesn’t just slap a shiny coat of paint over a violent tradition that has restricted women’s rights to a horrifying degree and continues to do so today. so when i see weddings treated as romantic and aspirational and objects of envy in the media, i’m left feeling disgusted that this tradition is so often painted as good for women. wedding magazines are marketed to us. there are new startups emerging every day that promise to make the wedding-planning process easier, more fun, more romantic. i just can’t see the romance in women’s continued subjugation.

anyway. i hope this was helpful. there are lots of BOOKS you can read with plenty of history on marriage: i just read who cooked the last supper?: the women’s history of the world by rosalind miles and there’s in depth discussion of the many abuses women were subject to under the laws governing marriage. you might even look to the wikipedia page for criticism of marriage to start more research.

#wedding hate #also believe it or not i wrote this mostly in a stream of consciousness so my ability to entertain counterarguments is quite limited #and along the same lines - any fractured sentences are one hundred percent my b #marriage

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whatzaoverwatch · 4 years

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The Reaper of the Opera Chapter 9: The Man Behind the Mask

Time for some backstories! It’s going to be a lot different than the original story so take this as you will.

First Prev Next

Nighttime/Managers Office

The group had made themselves to the managers office. Taking in the previous events as much as they could. Genji sat by your side while Hanzo remained close by. You remained quiet with your hand upon your collarbone, tracing where the ring once rested. Trying to ease yourself from the return of the man that haunted you. Lucio had been reading the book he was give of the performance they were forced into. The confusion on his face was evident on how much he wasn’t a fan of the work. Hana left in a rather distress situation by his side, mumbling to him every now and again with a few saddened sobs. Fareeha and Jesse remained by Anas side while she was sat down before everyone else. A tea freshly made for anyone to take part of. Reinhardt and Torbjorn sat at their assigned desks to take in the situation. The smallest of the group rather determined to figure this whole thing out.

“Alright Ana, we want to hear everything,” Torbjorn demanded, a lot more bitter than he was before, “who exactly is this Reaper and what does he want with this company?”

Ana took a sip from her tea, taking a second to have herself composed. Clearly uneasy with herself in this situation. Her eye scanning the room to take in their rather tense expressions. Her sight fixated on you before she finally spoke.

“When the Overwatch Opera Company had opened its doors, the public only knew of one owner: Jack Morrison. But there was another who had a say on the theatres creation. His name was Gabriel Reyes.”

Jesse’s brows furrowed by the name. A hand over his metallic arm in silence. Looks around the room were seen by the unfamiliar name. Fareeha looked to her mother as if she had remembered something.

“He was that costume designer from years ago. The one you always told me about.” Fareeha spoke, feeling Ana place a hand over her own.

“You were so young habibti, he was there the day that you were born. He and Jack became your godfathers. Always making your most beautiful dresses,” She recalled, almost imagining the little girl that was so eager to see the shows long ago, “But he was more than that, he took care of the backstage, assisted with the performances, helped build and finance the theatre from scratch. Even took in Jesse so many years ago as an assistant.”

“We don’t need to go into that detail mam.” Jesse was quick to speak up, the memories still too raw in his head to have brought up. Ana nodding in understanding.

“My point is: he was a huge asset to the creation of this theatre. If anything, he was just as much of an owner as Jack was.”

“How come we hadn’t heard about him? I never saw his name in any of the articles I had read.” Reinhardt questioned, taking a teacup for himself to have a drink. Ana rested her cup to the side, her face softening at the memories.

“When we were opening the building, we were only allow to give the manager title to one person. He thought it’d be more suited for Jack to bring in the younger folk. He was happy that Jack took on the title while he took in the behind the scenes work. However, the glory of the opening didn’t last,” She confessed, her hands now folded in her lap, “We were not selling the tickets as well as we did at the opening. Tastes changed overtime on what the public wanted to see. Trying to please the more modern attendees with some new work. Nothing was ever enough. Jack and Gabriel had argued about whether to keep with tradition or aim to please the newer generation. Gabriel wanted to try some of his own creations, but they would’ve never impressed the critics. What was truly the downfall was the incident.”

“Incident?” Reinhardt perked up, gasping at a sudden realization, “You mean the stage accident which caused the entire theatre to burn down years ago? Many lives were lost that day.”

“The very one,” Ana stated, her head lowering at the memory, “A broken fuse caused the entire stage to go up in flames. Gabriel insisted he checked everything, but I found himself becoming distracted from his work. Jack and I tried to rescue as many as we could. Unfortunately, we couldn’t save everyone, and Gabriel was left behind in the building. Not a single trace of him could be found. We suffered greatly from that tragedy, losing money and our former supporters thought that it was a great risk to uphold the company. Having to rely on wealthy patrons and the community for support.”

“Our father included,” Hanzo recalled, having the attention upon the two brothers, “He was well known in preserving classic art. Part of his fortune would always be given to the theatre. Even [Name]s father contributed to that cause.”

Having you remember your father taking you to the theatre, drawing you into the passion for music in the first place. The theatre was also where you had met Genji long ago. An act of kindness and charity was what started all of this in the first place. Feeling Genjis hand over yours, your fingers curled around his in comfort.

“Sojiro and [Names Father] adored the company, they had wished for you three to take part of the company someday. I suppose it was fate for you two to return after all of these years.” Ana claimed, looking over to you and Genji. Torbjorn grunted to clear the attention away.

“As much as anyone wants to hear the history, I very much want to know about the present. Unless you are meaning to tell us that this Gabriel Reyes came back from the dead and became the Reaper.” Torbjorn wondered, scratching his beard while Ana looked to him with certainty.

“That is exactly what I mean to tell you,” The air hanging thick around everyone. Jesse lowly cursed while the others exchanged glances, “I thought for so long that he was dead. Jack and I even held a memorial. We lost a great man and a dear friend. It wasn’t until he had visited us one fateful night. We thought it was all a dream, but he made certain that it was real. He wasn’t the joyful, charismatic man that he once was. He was angry, cold, and cruel. Blaming us for leaving him behind to become what he was. Thinking that we had forgotten about him. All of him, body and mind, were taken in that fire.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Fareeha demanded, looking to her mother for any reason to hold such a secret. Ana turned to her daughter with a saddened look.

“He knew us too well Fareeha. He wasn’t afraid to take what we loved most. He would’ve come after you, he threatened to take Vincent from Jack. Telling us never to speak of him, letting his memory be held without his presence. He made us break the bonds of our loved ones. Sam left because of how much I pushed him away,” Ghosting over her left ring finger, a faint mark to where a wedding ring once rested. Grimacing at what occurred, she covered her face to compose herself, “Jack no longer wanted to be held responsible for him, so he gave up his manager position. He told me how he wanted to find peace. It hurt to see my friend drinking away when he had lost Vincent. When he left that day months ago, I knew Gabriel had gotten to him.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Reinhardt asked, broken in his words as he knew the burdens that the older woman had to carry. Ana lifted her head, drawing her attention towards you.

“When I took in [Name] after her fathers passing, I had every notion of taking her and Fareeha with me,” You lifted her gaze to see the pain in your mentors eye, “But Gabriel heard [Name] sing. Wanting to know about the siren that echoed in his mind. He wanted her to become what he couldn’t. He instructed that I take her in as a student, while he would train her voice. At first, I believed that it was out of spite, to take in another that I cherished. But then I learned the truth.”

“That is?” Torbjorn asked, seeing the two of you give each other a silent stare. It was you who had spoken up to answer.

“He fell in love with me.”

Genji looked down at you with shock. Everyone having their eyes on you now as the pieces were put together. He had devoted himself to train you and take you away for so long. His words started to make sense on how he wished to not be forgotten. You are his only chance of escaping that isolation that he found himself in. You weren’t sure what he truly hid behind the mask, but it was enough to enrage him when you tried to look. The anger terrified you, now you found justification for his fury. Genji squeezed your hand once more with a hint of pain in his eyes. His emotions were not seen from you as Ana spoke once more.

“I began to see the old Gabriel again whenever he listened to your voice. Somehow you managed to bring that side of him, even if he no longer wanted to be seen,” Ana spoke with a frown, “I don’t expect your forgiveness, I have placed you and everyone else in great danger with this secret. I never wanted him to take it this far, but I fear on what he will do if we stray from his orders again.”

“So, if you had told any of us, none of this wouldn’t have happened?” Jesse asked, voice cold as his focus was on his arm. Ana turned to him, hearing the sour infliction in his voice. She tried to reach over to him for comfort, knowing Gabriel raised him like a son.

“Jesse-“

He quickly got up from his seat, denying any of the sympathy from Ana. Spinning around with a look of anger in his eyes.

“Reyes always had something to hide. This whole time he tried to raise me better than anyone else, trying to teach me to be better than I thought myself as. Even trying to save my ass during the fire all those years ago and here he is turning against his words?” He spat, pacing back ant forth before he slammed his fist against the desk, “The damn bastard is playing us all! We are nothing but a fucking show to him. I say you take us to where he is, and we settle this now.”

“McCree, he knows this theatre more than any of us,” Reinhardt stated, looking to Ana for any hope, “If he has been watching over us, then he has every intention of having a back up plan if we don’t listen.”

“Then we play his game,” Genji finally spoke, everyone's eyes now on the younger Shimada as he rose from his seat. Even you were curious on that suggestion, “All he wants is for his show to go on, right? Then let us give him the show.”

“What??” The two managers shouted in unison. Rising from their seats in disbelief of his words.

“Are you really sure you want to do this show? It’s already messed up from what I am reading. He really is living in the olden days.” Lucio piped up, placing the book down with a huff.

“Whether the show is successful or not, he wants it to be heard. The only way he will know if his piece is being played is if he is attending it himself,” Turning to Hanzo, he placed his hands on the sides of his arms, “We conceal the theatre, guarding it with our men at every corner. The moment he makes his appearance, we strike him down.”

Hanzo furrowed his brows from Genjis plan, only to find himself invested on the idea. The managers exchanging glances to find themselves giving into the plot as well. Fareeha was left to comfort Ana for that moment. McCree pointed to Genji with a smirk.

“I like the way you think, we corner him like the damn rat he is.” He stated.

“Finally, a good idea for once. We will do whatever we can to keep the place locked up tight.” Torbjorn agreed with crossed arms. Reinhardt raises his hand as if the ask a question.

“And what of the audience? Won’t they feel uncomfortable with the amount of guards around them?” Reinhardt pondered, trying to find some sense in the idea. Genji turned to the two men, thinking upon it with a hum.

“We will proclaim it as part of the show. Theatre these days always include audience interaction. It’s a cheap but cunning gimmick to hide what is really going on,” He plotted, pacing back and forth in thought, “so long as [Name] takes the lead role, he will come to see her. We can have everyone set up an-“

“No!”

You made your voice heard, rising from your seat in exasperation. His plan being withered into your brain, shaking your head on how it will plan out.

“Can’t you see that’s what he wants? He wants me, he wants me to sing for him,” Approaching Genji, you stepped in front of him in fear, “If you give him what he wants he will win. I won’t do it!”

“Oh great, NOW she doesn’t want to sing,” Hana huffed from her corner, wagging her finger at you with a glare, “You know that most of this is your fault. All because he wanted some pretty face new girl to show me up. Why don’t you actually play along and do what he says. In fact, why don’t we let him take her so he doesn’t have to bother us anymore?”

“Hana!” Lucio turned to her, having you shrivel up with guilt at those words. Hana not regretting her words from the bitterness she felt from Reapers insults.

You placed your hands over your head as you could hear the whispers once more. This was your fault. As Ana had said, he was drawn to you by your singing. All the pieces fell together so perfectly. If only you had shut away the voices. If only you weren’t a fool to be deceived by his songs. The angel of music your father made you believe would come for you. Shutting your eyes tightly, only to feel Genjis hands over yours.

“[Name], don’t listen to Hana. I don’t intend for him to take you away. We just need to follow his instructions.” Hearing Genjis words, you stepped away from him quickly.

“So, I am to be bait?” You whimpered, seeing the regret in his eyes, “Genji, you said me that you would protect me from him. That is what you promised me! What if your plan fails? What if he already knows what is going on? He will take me again! I will never be able to escape him. I can’t do this...I won’t!”

“[Name]…” He went to reach for you, causing you to smack his hand away. The action leaving everyone drawn back. Everything you had repressed began to crumble down before you. Tears building in your eyes, shaking uncontrollably before heading to the door.

“I need to be alone!” You cried, pushing past Hanzo and slamming the door behind you. Genji went towards the door, calling to you in distress.

“[Name] wait!” Halted by Hanzo, he gave him a stern expression.

“Leave her be, Genji.” He instructed his younger brother, watching his concern be directed towards the doorway.

“You ask too much of her,” Ana spoke, turning with a frown, “She is right, he may very well know of this plan.”

“So long as you remain here and not speak about it.” Jesse glare at the older woman sternly. Receiving the same cold look in return.

“Do you wish to imprison me? If you think I am some tattle tale then you are wrong. How long do you intend on keeping me here?” Watching as McCrees arm rested on the desk before her, a subtle reminder of what had happened.

“Only until all of this blows over. No offense but my trust in you right now isn’t in your favour mam,” Leaning against the desk, he points at the brothers with determination, “We will follow the plan, just make sure [Name] is prepared to take her place.”

“Understood.” Hanzo nodded, leaving Genji to worry about you in the meantime. Reinhardt slumped back into his seat, rubbing his head with a sigh.

“So, the show must go on.”

To be continued

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ucflibrary · 4 years

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Every October UCF celebrates Diversity Week and for 2020 it runs from October 19 – 23. The theme is Stronger Together: Unified! Connected! Family! This highlights how together we can make UCF and the surrounding community stronger and more connected with each other.

One of the fantastic things about UCF is the wide range of cultures and ethnicities of our students, staff, and faculty. We come from all over. We’re just as proud of where we are from as we are of where we are now and where we will be heading in future.

UCF Libraries is offering a full calendar of virtual Diversity Week activities from family friendly crafts to talks by area experts and film discussions. Don’t miss out on our community showcase which features UCF alumni and faculty and how they support the Knight community. We even have digital puzzles and downloadable coloring pages. And you can also add your voice to the 2020 UCF story by participating in our digital time capsule. To learn about the upcoming events visit: guides.ucf.edu/diversityweek

Join the UCF Libraries as we celebrate diverse voices and subjects with these suggestions. Click on the link below to see the full list, descriptions, and catalog links for the featured UCF Celebrates Diversity titles suggested by UCF Library employees. These and additional books are on display in the new 4th floor Reading Room.

And thank you to every Knight who works to help others feel accepted and included at UCF!

A Faithful Reading Partner: a story from a Hakka village by SuHua Huang A welcome addition to dual language literature, the story is about growing up among the Hakka people in Taiwan. In order to succeed, it is important for children to have a reading partner. But in this case, it is a dog with which the children develop deep friendships as they share their books with him. A sub-current to the main story is one of being a minority within a minority and success, which though longed for, inevitably contains sadness wrapped within its joy. Presented to UCF Libraries by the Chinese American Community in Orlando. Suggested by Sai Deng, Acquisitions & Collection Services

Discrimination and Disparities by Thomas Sowell Challenges believers in such one-factor explanations of economic outcome differences as discrimination, exploitation or genetics. It offers its own new analysis, based on an entirely different approach--and backed up with empirical evidence from around the world. The point is not to recommend some particular policy "fix", but to clarify why so many policy fixes have turned out to be counterproductive, and to expose some seemingly invincible fallacies behind many of those policies Suggested by Cynthia Kisby, Administration

Equality and Diversity: phenomenological investigations of prejudice and discrimination by Michael D. Barber Examples of prejudice against Jews, women, African Americans, and other minority groups are reported almost daily by the media. Despite educational programs to counteract prejudicial attitudes, this seemingly intractable problem remains an ongoing concern, not only in the United States but throughout the world. It is an interesting and often overlooked fact that the subject of prejudice has been the focus of major works by three prominent philosophers in the phenomenological tradition, works that still offer many insights into contemporary attempts to understand this social problem. Michael Barber examines this striking convergence of interests by these three philosophers and explores the significance of phenomenology for analyzing prejudice as expressed in anti-Semitism, sexism, and racism. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

Hacking Diversity: the politics of inclusion in open technology cultures by Christina Dunbar-Hester We regularly read and hear exhortations for women to take up positions in STEM. The call comes from both government and private corporate circles, and it also emanates from enthusiasts for free and open source software (FOSS), i.e. software that anyone is free to use, copy, study, and change in any way. Ironically, rate of participation in FOSS-related work is far lower than in other areas of computing. A 2002 European Union study showed that fewer than 2 percent of software developers in the FOSS world were women. This book is an ethnographic investigation of efforts to improve the diversity in software and hackerspace communities, with particular attention paid to gender diversity advocacy. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Mothers Work: confronting the Mommy Wars, raising children, and working for social change by Michelle Napierski-Prancl Through a series of focus group interviews and an analysis of the media and popular culture, Napierski-Prancl explores the institution of motherhood and the arenas in which mothering occurs while analyzing how mothers feel about themselves, each other, and the culture that situates them against one another. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

On the Freedom Side: how five decades of youth activists have remixed American history by Wesley C. Hogan As Wesley C. Hogan sees it, the future of democracy belongs to young people. While today's generation of leaders confronts a daunting array of existential challenges, increasingly it is young people in the United States and around the world who are finding new ways of belonging, collaboration, and survival. That reality forms the backbone of this book, as Hogan documents and assesses young people's interventions in the American fight for democracy and its ideals. As Hogan reveals, the the civil rights movement has often been carried forward by young people at the margins of power and wealth in U.S. society. This book foregrounds their voices and gathers their inventions--not in a comprehensive survey, but as an activist mix tape--with lively, fresh perspectives on the promise of twenty-first-century U.S. democracy. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Pippa Park Raises Her Game by Erin Yun Life is full of great expectations for Korean American Pippa Park. It seems like everyone, from her family to the other kids at school, has a plan for how her life should look. So when Pippa gets a mysterious basketball scholarship to Lakeview Private, she jumps at the chance to reinvent herself by following the "Rules of Cool." At Lakeview, Pippa juggles old and new friends, an unrequited crush, and the pressure to perform academically and athletically while keeping her past and her family's laundromat a secret from her elite new classmates. But when Pippa begins to receive a string of hateful, anonymous messages via social media, her carefully built persona is threatened. As things begin to spiral out of control, Pippa discovers the real reason she was admitted to Lakeview and wonders if she can keep her old and new lives separate, or if she should even try. Presented to UCF Libraries by the Chinese American Community in Orlando. Suggested by Sai Deng, Acquisitions & Collection Services

Sexuality, Equality, and Diversity by Diane Richardson and Surya Monro Investigating the dynamics of identity and sexual citizenship in a changing world, this compelling text explores key debates around human rights and representation, policy and resistance. Incorporating theory with original research, this is a thought-provoking insight into sexuality and diversity in a global age. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

Shame: how America's past sins have polarized our country by Shelby Steele Part memoir and part meditation on the failed efforts to achieve racial equality in Americathis work advances Shelby Steele's provocative argument that "new liberalism" has done more harm than good. Since the 1960s, overt racism against blacks is almost universally condemned, so much so that racism is no longer, by itself, a prohibitive barrier to black advancement. But African Americans remain at a disadvantage in American society, and Steele lays the blame at the feet of white liberals. According to Steele, liberals have refused to acknowledge the country's progress over the past 50 years, in part because their notions of white guilt and black victimization help preserve their position of power over blacks. Suggested by Cynthia Kisby, Administration

The Boy Who Became a Dragon: a Bruce Lee story by Jim Di Bartolo This book presents a biography of the martial arts legend, describing his childhood in Hong Kong and how it was shaped by World War II, and his success as an international star. Presented to UCF Libraries by the Chinese American Community in Orlando. Suggested by Sai Deng, Acquisitions & Collection Services

This Promise of Change: one girl's story in the fight for school equality by Jo Ann Allen Boyce and Debbie Levy In 1956, one year before federal troops escorted the Little Rock 9 into Central High School, fourteen year old Jo Ann Allen was one of twelve African-American students who broke the color barrier and integrated Clinton High School in Tennessee. At first things went smoothly for the Clinton 12, but then outside agitators interfered, pitting the townspeople against one another. Uneasiness turned into anger, and even the Clinton Twelve themselves wondered if the easier thing to do would be to go back to their old school. This is the heartbreaking and relatable story of her four months thrust into the national spotlight and as a trailblazer in history. Suggested by Ven Basco, Research & Information Services

We Rise, We Resist, We Raise Our Voices edited by Wade Hudson and Cheryl Willis Hudson What do we tell our children when the world seems bleak, and prejudice and racism run rampant? With 96 lavishly designed pages of original art, poetry, and prose, fifty diverse creators lend voice and comfort to young activists. Suggested by Ven Basco, Research & Information Services

#ucflibrary #featured #booklr #diversity in reading #suggested reading #diveristy week

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bloodline-rpg · 4 years

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Congratulations, ANGE! We have accepted your application for your OC, Mallory Thompson (FC: Sophie Cookson). Please create a blog for your character and send us the link via ask box as soon as you can. Welcome to Bloodline!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/Alias: Ange

Age: 30

Preferred pronouns: she/her/hers

Timezone: EST

Level of activity (don’t give your activity a number value, please describe how active you will be as best as possible): Moderate during the work week when I’m working from the office. High on the weekends or now when I’m working from home.

CHARACTER DETAILS

Character’s Name: Mallory Thompson

Desired FC: Sophie Cookson

Character’s Age: 24

Character’s Species: Werewolf

Character’s Sexuality: Bisexual

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY

For the first twenty years, Mallory Thompson’s life was boringly normal. She lived on a cul de sac with both of her parents and an annoying younger brother. She attended college a few hours from home studying biology and psychology and a couple of classes in ceramics and by her sophomore year, she still hadn’t declared a major. Until the tweets and the YouTube videos started surfacing about witches. And werewolves. And the fact that magic was real, and those who could send you flying across the room with a wave of their hand or rip you to pieces when they transformed under the full moon were hiding in plain sight, an unknown threat around every corner.

Young, terrified, and impressionable, Mallory took part in her first protest that fall, just before the government roundups began. On her college campus with her sign in one hand and her fist raised high, she bought into every bit of propaganda that said supernaturals were dangerous, deceitful, no better than terrorists on our own soil. She and a group of fellow protesters defaced the car of a holistic witch on their campus the following week. Bye or burn, the group’s ringleader, Jack, had spray painted in bright Crayola blue against the shiny red door. The quiet girl to whom the car belonged never even picked it up; a bunch of her clothes and personal belongings were gone the following morning and her car ended up towed to impound by campus security later that day.

Her involvement only grew that summer, when the time off of school gave her more time to connect to anti-supernatural groups online and plan trips to larger protests in DC, NYC, and other east coast metropolitan areas. She and Jack became closer, spending more time together every week whether it was to plan their next move, monitor the hunts, or just hang out and share a pizza.

Her activism came to a head in Philadelphia, when Jack tossed a Molotov cocktail into a peaceful gathering of counter-protesters, and a young woman was seriously injured. Mallory had no idea he brought the improvised weapon until it was out of his bag and already in his hand, but by then it was too late. The authorities who questioned them about the incident gave them little more than a stern warning, to leave it to the authorities, but the damage was done.

Jack and Mal were confronted on the way home from a late night 7/11 run two nights later. As it turned out, the woman injured in Jack’s attack was the bonded witch of a lifelong werewolf, and he and several of his packmates wanted revenge. Mallory was held back and forced to watch as one of the men shifted into a sandy-colored monster and tore out her best friend’s throat. Time stopped as the blood-covered, snarling jowls were turned on her, but his teeth sunk into the meat of her thigh instead of her throat. Mallory was certain that she was going the same way as Jack, but the large wolf simply unlatched his bite as one of his human compatriots snarled, “karma’s a bitch, bitch,” before spitting on the ground and leaving Mallory a sobbing pile on the sidewalk.

She’d barely been able to limp away from the scene, with no choice but to leave Jack’s body as she heard the sirens off in the distance. The bite on her leg was unmistakable; if the authorities caught her in this state, she’d be the next one in a cell, or dead. Suddenly, being hunted didn’t seem so righteous anymore.

Mal never told her family. She was ‘distant’ after the attack, ‘depressed’ they kept saying, and she hoped that when she snuck away with a bag in the middle of the night two days before the full moon that month, that the goodbye letter on her wardrobe would keep them from looking for her. She deleted her social media, never once looked herself back up. She couldn’t bear it. Not when her new life was a stolen, heavy tow chain wrapped around a tree deep in the Appalachian foothills. Not when she spent the weeks between agonizing full moons making her way through the city on whatever work she could find.

It was about three months back, during some under the table work as a server at a sports bar that she overheard a pair talking in hushed voices in a back booth. ‘It’s not just for Originals, man,’ she’d overheard them saying. ‘The Blacks are inviting everyone to Carden Manor. Holistics and werewolves, too.’ She knew better than to ask questions of drunk guys in dark corners, but she’d also been both desperate and in customer service long enough to know how to use her cleavage and the promise of booze to make friends with strangers.

A month after learning about Carden Manor, Mallory took her chance. If there was a place in Georgia willing to keep wolves safe, even reluctant ones, she was heading there. She just hoped enough time had passed not to run into any familiar faces.

CHARACTER PERSONALITY

Mal has learned to be a survivalist under fire. She uses sarcasm and humor to redirect uncomfortable conversations and avoidance to just not think about the ones she isn’t ready to tackle. On a good day, she’s warm and inviting, ready to share a few laughs over a beer and tell you to invite your friends along. On a bad day, she’s prickly, closed off and stubborn, but most days she’s somewhere in between. The events of the last two years have shown her how heavy consequences can be, and that things – and people – might not always be what you expect on the surface. She’s trying to learn how to navigate a world that is much more complicated than she ever imagined it could be just a few short years ago.

PLOTS AND POLITICS

Mallory has a past she isn’t sure that she wants to make up for, but definitely wants to make peace with. Learning more about wolves and witches and getting to see them more as ‘human’ (in her eyes), is definitely a long-term direction and goal. The world of magic is brand new to her, so she has no preconceived notions about family dynamics or traditional views, nor any idea what it’s like to be a wolf in a pack. I’d like to see her interact with different people from different covens and families to try and find her ‘place’ in this new world. Eventually having her past come to light would definitely be a plot I’d like to explore once she’s a bit established. I’d also really like to see her interact with Lou and Theo a bit, both as an anchor to her ‘lost humanity,’ and also as a source of conflict that feeds her old biases given their current situation.

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nola-unchained · 4 years

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STATS

Name: Montgomery “Monty” Abernathy Gender/pronouns: He/him Age: 165 (looks 24) Species: Werewolf, Omega Occupation: Owner of Wanderer Bookstore Faceclaim: Tom Holland

HISTORY: (triggers: brutal attack, blood, almost death, loss )

The life of Montgomery Abernathy is one for the story books. Born the son of a wealthy banker and his wife in London, Monty had everything set up for him as he grew. His parents had the proper support to help raise him, sent him to the best schools, and did their best to make sure he was part of every proper social circle they could. However, no matter how privileged and set up Monty’s life was, he never let it get to his head. People have always said that Monty always had level headed mind and was very down to earth. Happy to stop and help anyone he could. Even from a young age, the young Abernathy would be found trying to help someone out on the street. His parents had tried to encourage him to keep his distance, just to keep a pristine image, but it never worked for them.

To Monty, his life was pretty boring. It was a matter of going to a party here, going to school there, and playing sports with his mates when he had the chance. It wasn’t until he was in his final year before college that his world had really changed. A fateful day during Christmas break brought him face to face with a girl who was above all the rest. A girl with natural beauty that made him lose his breath. Her name was Lydia Carmichael. Somehow, they ended up in similar circles and he was graced the chance to get to know her more. She was as sweet as she was beautiful. She had his heart, even before they could start courting. Only unfortunate thing was no one truly supported the courtship until Monty finished school and could prove himself the proper provider. So, off he went, continuing his plan to prove himself a worthy man.

Now, while Montgomery was a good man, he was a kind man, of course he got himself into some shenanigans from time to time. Pranks he and his friends would pull on each other, or jokes they would make. It kept his life exciting and kept college from completely dragging. The other thing keeping him going was the letters than he was getting from Lydia. Each letter was a notion for him to keep going. It was the bit of hope he needed that she would still be waiting for him on the other side. Four years came and went, and soon he was back in his home town, starting his new job for his father. Being a banker wasn’t ideal for him, but he was good at it. You could’ve said in ran in his blood. Lydia was there when he got back, and they finally got the permission to start their courtship. While marriage would have to wait, at least he could consider her partially his.

Two years of chaperoned dates and being respectful of traditions, and it was soon going to be time for them to marry. Monty went to Lydia’s father and asked for his permission before finally getting the chance to go down on one knee and proposing to the woman he loved. Much to his relief, she said yes and plans were under way for the big day. Only bad thing was that fate seemed to have something else in store.

One night out with his friends, they had started to get into shenanigans once again, having a good time when the attack happened. Monty had drifted off on his own for a moment when something came out of nowhere. He felt something sharp drag through his chest and parts of his arm. Not long after there was a large pain that was radiating from his leg. Everything had happened so fast that he didn’t have the chance to react. He couldn’t fight back, and by the time his friends found him, the creature was gone and Monty was a bleeding mess on the ground. He could hear their voices, but they were distant and hazy. He couldn’t make out what they were saying over the pain radiating in his body.

The next couple weeks were a blur. He only remembers slight moments that happened throughout the whole thing. Remembered being carried to the hospital. Nurses and doctors surrounding him. His parents. Lydia. Some woman. And then everything was just kind of black for a while. The pain didn’t start to subside until a while later, and slowly he started to be awake more and more, until he was able to stay awake for a few hours at a time. By the time that he woke, Lydia was at his bed side, telling him what happened. She explained that he was attacked by a werewolf, and was bitten as well. Explained that while most would’ve just transformed, the process wasn’t healing him fast enough for him to survive through it. So, a witch came and gave him a healing curse. Down fall to the curse was that he would stop aging, he would never be able to reproduce, and he’d be stuck as a twenty-four-year-old werewolf forever. As if that news wasn’t enough, it turned out she had changed as well. She wasn’t just Lydia anymore, but she was a vampire. She was new as well. It was a lot for him to process, and it took him days to actually accept it all, but nothing prepared him for the first time he transformed. By the time the moon had subsided and he changed back to his normal form, that fear hit him again and he was left to learn a whole new way of living.

Life from that point was always filled with something happening at all times. His parents weren’t excited about the idea of their son being some supernatural beast, but his mother refused to let him go, so she did her best to just focus on the aspect of him healing. Everyone had been so focused on helping Lydia and Monty with their transformations, that everyone had forgotten about the wedding. They were just focused on getting everything back on track. Years and decades passed, and their country was faced with the first World War. Monty was drafted into a special division for supernatural, and fought for his country until the last day of the war. It’s true what they say that war can change people, but for Monty, it was almost like a reset.

Life coming back was easy. He found a job to help earn money and he still had his Lydia with him. Having her by his side was everything to him. He couldn’t imagine having actually survived all of this without her. That thought was prominent in his head when the second World War arrived and he was asked to go fight once more. All it took was one looked at Lydia, and he was back down on his knee in front of her, asking for her hand once more. The two married before he went off to fight again, and have been together ever since.

Recovering from wars had been a little hard at first, but eventually everything started to come together once again. Monty and Lydia made a life for themselves, and even decided to take a leap and move to the states in the 1960s. They landed on the city of New Orleans, finding that the history and sprit of the city was most exciting to them. It wasn’t until the 1980’s that Monty came home and proposed the idea of using his inheritance from his parents to open a book store. He knew the perfect spot on Royal St. and had a plan in order.

To this day, Monty and Lydia still own and work in that same book shop. The building they bought gave them the ability to live above the shop, keeping them close and able to keep their eye on it at all time. Monty runs most of the accounting and technical stuff, while also trying to help keep events going to keep people coming to visit. Their life together has been one that most people wouldn’t believe, but Monty gets to be with the woman he loves, which is all he could ask for.

PERSONALITY:

+ Approachable, Organized, Logical, Self-Disciplined

- Defensive, Timid, Moody, Stubborn

Monty is played by Katie.

#supernatural rp #mature rp #town rp #literate rp

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kingdomofbretonxrpg · 4 years

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Congratulations Ace! We are delighted to welcome Romilly Capulet-Rennes to assist her father, the Duke of Vaneti, in the challenging year ahead. Please complete our after acceptance checklist. We are looking forward to seeing you develop her! Please send in her blog on or before 31 December.

OUT OF CHARACTER

ALIAS: Ace

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: She/Her

AGE: Oldddddd

TIMEZONE: GMT

ANYTHING ELSE? Star Wars

CHARACTER

NAME: Romilly Capulet-Rennes

BIRTHDATE AND AGE: 26, 4th October

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: She/Her

FACECLAIM: Melissa Benoist

HOUSE AFFILIATION: Vaneti

PROFESSION: Personal Assistant to the House

CLAIM: Unclaimed

CHILDREN: None

DESIGNATION: Submissive

SEXUALITY: Bisexual

WHAT IS THEIR SYMBOL?: Multi-coloured star tattoo on her wrist [image]

KINKS: Water (bath, shower, pool, sea, etc), rough sex, gentle sex, TPE, orgasm control/denial, hair pulling, dressup, public places, remote toys, breath play, risk taking, so so so many more

ANTI-KINKS: Needles, gore, anything bathroom related (she likes being in water - not watersports)

BIOGRAPHY:

From a very young age Romilly was fascinated by the notion of heroes. During the younger years it was the brightly coloured costumes and cool super human abilities which appealed but as she grew older and her knowledge of the world expanded she came to learn that the hero within people is revealed when they are tested beyond what they believe they can endure and how everyone has the potential to be more than they were born to be.

She kept her parents on their toes from the moment she could crawl and would always be found shuffling off to explore whatever new place she found herself in or seeing what everyone else was up to. With the responsibility of running the House falling firmly on her father’s shoulders it fell to Romilly’s mother to always be the one to pick her up from wherever she’d scurried off to only to have the toddler scurry off again giggling gleefully. It was a tradition which never waned as Romilly grew older and her mother became the ever present supporting influence in her life. She understood her father loved her very much and would do anything for her but they never had the opportunity to become as close as Romilly did with her mother.

It was believed her boundless energy would wane as she got older but this wasn’t the case and Romilly continued to run circles around everyone, including her mother, and still have energy to spare. One of Romilly’s earliest memories is of her slipping away from her mother (which was always a goal but rarely successful) in a large, exciting looking house and finding a bed with large pillows in cases which had a fancy shimmering fabric on them. Unable to resist she had removed one of the pillows, tied two corners of the case around her neck and promptly ran around the entire house dodging everyone who tried to catch her and screaming about how her new ‘cape’ meant she could fly.

During her runaround she had burst into a room containing her father and another man who she could only describe as ‘important looking’ both looking very serious. Years later she would discover who the ‘important man’ was and whose pillow case she had also stolen to make a cape. Luckily for Romilly the man had seen the act as very endearing and had insisted to her father Theodore that she should keep the pillow case as he clearly had his hands full with her.

In an attempt to lessen the potential damage a hyperactive Romilly could cause she was introduced to a swimming pool as early as possible. She immediately loved being in the water and whilst she happily paddled up and down for hours her mother was given a rest from constantly chasing after her. Of course occasionally she would join her daughter in the pool which became swimming lessons once Romilly got older. The younger girl never lost her love for the water and whenever they went somewhere new her first question would always be whether it had a pool, or lake or was by the sea.

Romilly’s hero fascination manifested itself in an interest in comic books, she especially gravitated to the characters who were ‘born different’ which she would later realise was her subconscious projecting her father into a heroic figure despite him being ‘different’. The comics led to a keen interest in art which grew more and more intense as she grew older and both her comic collection and filled sketchbooks grew.

Romilly found education very hard from the very start and concerns were officially raised during the first reading comprehension test of her school career. Her result was an age far lower than she actually was which led to some drastic changes at home. Gone were the comics, replaced by novels and though she complained at first it was clear to everyone that Romilly was really trying but still struggling. She fought hard but would become exhausted after trying hard for so long and the words still “not working” for her. The exhaustion was the most telling thing as her unlimited energy supply had never been bested in such a way before. Hearing how hard she had been trying the school suggested a different kind of assessment and shortly after she was diagnosed with dyslexia, and in Romilly’s case it was severe.

The diagnosis changed everything. The comics returned, a more targeted education program was introduced, support counselling sessions were booked to ease the social burden her condition would have and best of all for Romilly, she could draw in her notes again. It was a revelation to her teachers when one of them discovered the doodles across the pages weren’t mind-wandering nothingness but actual usable notes and reminders for the subject being taught. Romilly may struggle to read a word with 5 or more letters but she was still brilliant and resourceful and had created her own unique note taking style.

With all the help and support she was now receiving Romilly’s energy and enthusiasm returned and she became quite the social butterfly. Her close group of friends understood her condition and helped her when they could, a particularly common scenario would be everyone in the group reading something from a menu in a new place they had discovered for Romilly to pick something. Her friends secretly kept score of who got picked the most which continues to this day; though they don’t tell Romilly as she may attempt to fix the result.

Throughout her school life Romilly remained very close with her mother who had now become her main support and life coach. She was always there with a helping hand, an encouraging nod at the counselling sessions or a scathing remark towards anyone who had upset her precious girl with remarks about her reading and writing ability. Her father was still there too but still the more distant parent, his support took on a very different form but Romilly appreciated it just as much.

Romilly didn’t let her disability hold her back and fell back on her love of heroes for inspiration in digging deep and fighting through adversity. She became fuelled by a fierce determination which combined with her endless supply of energy and newfound love of being cheeky made her a true force to be reckoned with and detractors quickly learned to not get in her way when she had a specific goal in mind. She was recently told how much her fierce unwavering determination was like her grandmother which she took as high praise indeed.

Her drive and determination really paid off when it came to exams. Her school would classify her results as “average” but everyone that knew Romilly recognised what an accomplishment it was given her circumstances, especially given she had kept up the area tradition and learned two languages. Whenever she needed some thinking time Romilly would go for a swim but her main escape remained her art and with the help of a tech-savvy friend she set up a website to show off her latest pieces. She’s gained a substantial following and has received numerous requests for commissions but she feels she isn’t quite ready to make the jump to someone paying her to draw.

Unable to see herself with any kind of job after finishing school she started shadowing her mother who was the Personal Assistant of the House. She learned quickly from her mother and began to take over certain responsibilities whilst her mother continued to do anything that involved words or numbers. Through her new role Romilly found another level of respect for her father who never seemed to stop and was always completely focused on the good of the family.

It was while out with her mother grabbing a quick coffee that Romilly’s world began to turn upside down. Her mother collapsed on the short walk home and despite being stricken with fear Romilly managed to call for an ambulance and then call her father as well who met them at the hospital. This was followed by the worst news Romilly had ever received as her mother’s diagnosis was relayed to her. At first Romilly lived in denial, she took up more tasks to support her ailing mother and continued her duties when her mother’s deterioration became more rapid, though she was by her mother’s side for every session of treatment she underwent. It was her father stopping all of his duties to care for his claim that caused realisation to hit and Romilly spent as much time as she could with her mother, now with her father also by her side.

Tragedy struck a short time later and though it wasn’t unexpected it still hit Romilly hard. Having never had the opportunity to truly bond with her father they found themselves sitting in long awkward silences, both not wanting to be alone with their grief but also unsure how they should be around each other. It was Theodore who broke one of these silences by recounting a story he remembered fondly. He recalled a visit to see the King and his claim when Romilly had been only 3 or 4 years old… and how Romilly had stolen a royal pillow case to use as a cape to help her fly. The pair laughed together at the shared memory and finally began to start talking properly.

Through the sharing of all Theodore’s fondest memories of his daughter Romilly understood that he had in fact always been there for her, always looked out for her and always recognised every accomplishment he just hadn’t had the opportunity to outwardly show his love for her. The pair began truly bonding and lifting each other up and out of their grief. They still have moments when they just need a good cry but they both know the other’s shoulder is always there to do it on.

With his daughter firmly placed in the support role of Personal Assistant to the House, Theodore returned to political work and a degree of normality returned to their lives. The normality was short lived as tragedy struck once again. The loss of the King hit Theodore harder than Romilly who wasn’t as close to him but she still felt the effects and did everything she could to support her father even more. Romilly was the first person to find out that her father had accepted the role of Arbiter. Not being one for big speeches or using words in general she showed her support in the only way she knew how - a huge hug and some short but very meaningful words: “You’re my hero Dad, no matter what happens.”

Being Personal Assistant to the Interim Head of the Royal Council of Breton is a prospect which is equal parts exciting and terrifying but Romilly is determined to do the absolute best she can and to be there for her father whenever he needs her and even when he doesn’t. She has no idea what her future in the capital holds but she will face it head on and make both her parents even more proud than they already are.

#melissa benoist #accepted #bretonaccepted

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a-shepherd-blog · 5 years

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Hi all! I’m Rey and I’m here with my fave Andrea!

The TL;DR version is: U.S. marshal who is just a little too trigger happy. Used to work for the NYPD as a detective and then climbed through the ranks. Comes from a mafia family but has gone straight - can’t deny her inherent nature either. Andy’s an old west gunslinger who’s been born into a different era. Above all she’s about putting bad guys behind bars and protecting good people; she’s a hunter.

I’m always looking for plots and connections! Also you can read her super extra bio below. Feel free to hit me up here or on discord at the_revati#8487.

Give it a like and I’ll slide into your DMs!

ANDREA SHEPHERD ;

&&. word has it ( andrea shepherd ) was just spotted around the city. ( she ) is/are a ( thirty-two ) year old affiliated with ( nypd ). it’s been said that ( she ) resembles ( stella maeve ). ( she ) has been said to be ( tenacious & resourceful ) but also quite ( judgmental & self-destructive ). ( she ) is currently serving as ( a u.s. marshal ).

(bio below)

tw: death, murder, self- mutilation

BACKSTORY

Her father was a Voloshyn and that meant he was a part of the Ukrainian mafia that existed in a certain corner of the world. His family? They didn’t live in this corner. Though born in Odessa, Ukraine, Andrea was raised by her mother Alice Shepherd in New York. Alice had grown up in the Hudson Valley and she’d spent most of her life in New York working as an art curator. When motherhood struck, she decided that keeping her children far, far, far away from Odessa was the best choice for them. Mikhail was her first born, but her daughter Andrea was born two minutes later. When they were older, Alice would tell them they came into this world holding hands.

New York was a decent enough place to grow up. Like any city, it had its dark underbelly. Alice did her best to keep both Mikhail and Andrea away from it, but the two grew up a part of the city as much as anyone else. It’s where Andrea picked her first fight, had her first kiss, got drunk for the first time. And Mikhail? He was her best friend.

For the most part, Andrea and Mikhail didn’t see their father. The holidays were the exception and dinners were always silent when Alexi Voloshyn sat at the head of the table. There was a shock in this pattern when the twins turned 11. Summer break rolled around and, all of a sudden, Mikhail was whisked off with Alexi to spend the summer in Odessa. Ever summer after that was the same. Mikhail would leave in the dead of night and Andrea would get left behind. It became increasingly obvious before long that Alexi was grooming Mikhail to step into his shoes. The young girl grew increasingly bitter about this tradition with the passing of each halcyon season. Mikhail would return just in time for school to start with nothing but a “It was fine” as a reply to Andrea’s “Well? How was it?”

It’s not that Andrea wanted her own hand in the criminal underworld of Europe - she was too young to understand that - she just wanted to be taken as seriously as her brother. She began to act out as a cry for attention - but all attempts went ignored. A stray comment from Alexi about marrying her off one Christmas dinner set off the final fuse. Andrea was 15 and at peak teenage rebellion. Without blinking, she grabbed the carving knife from the ham in front of her, and cut off her own ring finger. She tried not to cry when she did it and felt immensely betrayed by the three tears that managed to leak out during the act. The entire thing was very much a ‘fuck you’ to the path that had been laid out for her. It was very much supposed to be a ‘fuck you’ to her father. He wanted her to get married? Fuck that. Ring finger? Gone. Now she could never get married.

Instead of reacting with anger or fury, her father simply looked at this act of defiance and laughed. In her 15 years it was probably the first time Andrea heard such a sound. It was a warm, accepting laugh. As the family doctor stitched and patched her up, Alexi finally conceded that Andrea could join them in Odessa next summer. The young woman learned that acts of self-destruction as loyalty held a certain sort of esteem in her father’s eyes.

Sure enough, Andrea went to the Port of Odessa the next summer. It’s where she learned how to fire a gun, worked as a hired hand on a ship, saw her first dead body. She’d been brought along but it was Mikhail that Alexi continuously sent into the fray. It was Mikhail that went on the ride alongs and once again it was Andrea that was left behind. You’d think a father would be more precious with the life of his son but, again, acts of self-destruction as loyalty held a certain sort of esteem in Alexi’s eyes. One cold night, a deal went south and shots were fired. Andrea heard about it from one of her father’s friends the next morning. She heard that while Mikhail’s body had been found, Alexi’s was conveniently missing. Whispers floated that her father had managed to flee the scene. Any sadness Andrea had for her brother was swept away with the resounding notion that her father was a fucking coward.

Andrea returned home to Alice alone. That was Andrea’s tipping point. At her mother’s insistence she applied to colleges in New York and wound up settling on pursuing a political science degree at Columbia. There was an intense irony with the fact that Andrea was quickly falling into a path carved out for law enforcement, but the second she noticed it, she leaned into it. It was another ‘fuck you’ to the memory of her father. More than that, she had a knack for it in a way that she a knack for nothing else.

Andrea joined the NYPD fresh out of college when she returned home and quickly climbed the ladder to the rank of deputy sheriff. In the police department, she finally found the family she’d been searching for.

She continued on up, leaving for the state department and then eventually the federal sector. She spent some time as a firearms instructor in Glynco, Georgia at the U.S. Marshal’s training center before she became a full-blown Marshal herself.

During her time with the Marshal’s service, Andrea was assigned to several different field offices across the U.S. She gained a reputation for being trigger happy and was thus stationed in increasingly remote stations. (It seemed she was still, in many ways, her father’s daughter.) Alice passed during Andrea’s time in the Fairbanks office and due to poor weather conditions it was a week before Andrea got the news. Alice had left Andrea the house in New York.

Her life continued in other ways. During the day she would do her job, and at the night she would come back to the husband she’d met during her time on the NYPD. For a while, life was right. When Andrea caught whiff that Alexi Voloshyn was making the journey from the Port of Odessa to the Port of New Orleans, Andrea caught the first flight she could to Louisiana.

CUT TO: two weeks later. Andrea. Run out of New Orleans by the Ukrainian mob for publicly killing Alexi Voloshyn.

Andrea has been lying relatively low in in New York ever since the incident a year ago at the insistence of her U.S. Marshal Chief. Criminals infest the city and Andrea has done her best to stay above it. Andrea has a rigid view of most things. While others see the world in shades of grey, she sees it in shades of black and white. The thing about killing her father though, was that all the debts that Alexi had (the coward he was) were suddenly transferred to his only living family member upon his passing.

Now, Andrea lives alone in Prospect Park with the occasional roommate that comes and goes. She keeps most of the estate boarded up and only really uses the parts she needs. She still conducts her business from the police department. She’s been trying handle her father’s debts. Above all else - hunting is in her bones. She plans on cleaning up this city.

PERSONALITY / OTHER

grew up in New York, went to college here, but then was stationed all across the country - has been back permanently for about a year or so

an old-west gunslinger born into a different era

trigger happy

deep seeded anger towards the criminal underworld of this city. All about putting bad people behind bars and protecting good people.

holds a mother-fucking grudge like no other.

methodology: shoot it before it shoots me.

honestly, “back in the day” she’d be pretty close becoming an outlaw herself. She walks a dangerous line but shhhh we don’t talk about that

is no-nonsense

If you missed it in her bio, she’s missing her ring finger. She cut it off herself cause she didn’t want to get married. Ever. She always wears a glove on her left hand.

forgets to eat. Survives on a diet of scotch and gummy bears.

has two facial expressions: scowling or smiling slyly

is angry. Always. Keeps it bottled up. Always.

crime never sleeps and neither does she.

likes crossword puzzles

plays the saxophone and the piano. A fan of jazz music.

“I think she had fun, once” - the gas-station lady

also has a goldfish that she keeps forgetting to feed it’s a wonder it’s still alive.

“Call me Andy.”

Is all about the vigilante life, actually.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

I’m down to get creative with any of these! Also, I love angst???

Debts! - Did Alexi owe your gang member a debt? Congrats! Andy now owes YOU. Have fun with that.

Housemate - There is too much room in her parents estate in Prospect Park for her live there alone. Andy’s put up a “for rent” sign with the intention of renting out one of the rooms to another citizen. (CLOSED - Marcelo Rodriguez )

Former friends, exes, frenemies - Maybe she lost touch with them, maybe she didn’t. If your character grew up in New York, there’s the chance they knew each other. Maybe they had sleepovers, maybe they were childhood enemies, maybe they dated. Bonus points if they lead lifestyles she disapproves of now! (open)

Hate-sex - they hate it but they gotta get it on. (open)

Drinking buddies - dear god, Andy consumes so much whiskey. (open)

Siblings - Andy and Mikhail were Alice and Alexi’s oldest, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t have had other younger siblings. Also open to having Alexi have had other affairs. (open)

The Hunted - they’ve crossed paths in the past and she’s got a vendetta against them (open)

Ex-husband - He joined the criminal underworld. She left him. Simple as that. (open) *** would give my kidney for this one

Co-worker - Other police department friends. (open)

And literally anything else!

#tdrintro #( andrea shepherd ; seven nation army )#( andrea shepherd ; biography )

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is6621 · 6 years

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Behind the Buzz: Women in Tech and Entrepreneurship by Hannah Fay

It’s hard to consume business (or even mainstream media) news in 2018 without coming across the same few tech buzzwords again and again...and again. We mentioned a few last class -- “AR,” “blockchain,” and “crypto” come to mind -- and the industry discusses them ad nauseum. But what about the tech industry buzzwords that are a little more uncomfortable to talk about? The ones that make headlines but not classroom discussions? What about wage gaps? Sexual harassment? #MeToo? As I prepared for a discussion group that I help lead for BC’s Women Innovators Network, I thought I might try to share what I’ve learned and what has surprised me with our #IS6621 crew.

By this point in your business school careers, you’re all likely well aware of the mythology of Silicon Valley, startups, VC, tech companies, and the like. You’re probably also well aware of its reputation of being an unwelcoming environment for women professionals. Just as a refresher, here are some (slightly jarring) statistics: women own merely 5% of startups, make up just 7% of partners at venture capital firms, have an industry quit rate over twice as high as men’s, and received $56.7 billion less than men in VC funding (you can find more similarly disturbing facts here).

GETTING THERE

Why are these numbers so dismal? Many suggest that it’s simply because not enough girls pursue degrees in tech or entrepreneurial fields, and that they simply aren’t careers that women are interested in or suited for. Similarly, the Arrington Theory states that women are simply more risk-averse than men, making them less likely to become entrepreneurs or seek venture capital funding, thus explaining those dramatic gaps. When those two ideas are combined, it results -- theoretically -- in a proportionally small pool of qualified hires for companies. The tech industry (especially startup companies) is seen as a young, progressive field, succumbing to none of the stereotypes ingrained in traditional Wall Street industries. Its perception is that of a meritocracy, where the best man -- or woman -- wins solely based on their talent and qualification, regardless of their background.

Is this all true? Not really.

While it is accurate that fewer women than men pursue tech degrees, this is not necessarily because an inherent lack of skill or preference. It is possible that the foundations for these disparities originate in childhood and are reinforced over the years as programs push boys and girls in different directions in everything from classes to try to games to play with.

But even if this isn’t the case, and the simple truth is that fewer women pursue these degrees, qualified women are still getting turned away from these types of careers before they even begin. Recruiting sessions often discourage women from applying through environments that alienate and intimidate. Similarly, research has found that women become risk-averse because of stereotypes in a sort of vicious cycle -- when stereotypes are ingrained in women’s minds, they are more likely to conform to them, regardless of individual characteristics.

This doesn’t fully explain, though, the gender disparity in investment funding. Women get asked different questions during funding rounds than men do, affecting their confidence, the types of answers they give and the amount of funding they get. Men get asked promotional questions focusing on the potential for growth and profit, while women get asked preventative questions that emphasize risk minimization and planning for potential losses -- unsurprisingly, people tend to respond with answers that reflect the type of questions they were asked. This means that women spend a disproportionate amount of time defending their ideas without getting the chance to pitch their potential for success.

And the mythology of meritocracy? Not entirely accurate. Even the tech world -- startups especially -- is subject to bias. Like hires like, and especially in companies without a formal HR department or hiring process, founders of companies tend to hire their friends (or people that remind them of their friends). Since most startups are founded by males, this means that far fewer females break into the field.

STAYING THERE

The battle isn’t over even once women make it into the industry. As mentioned before, the quit rate for women is twice that of men’s. Why is the rate so high? Many point anecdotally to differing priorities, an inability to take the pressure of a high-paced workplace, and again, to a simple lack of skill or talent. But research tells a different story -- one of subtle bias, differing standards, compensation issues, and sexual harassment.

It doesn’t immediately make sense that the archetypal tech workplace -- known for flexible work days and nontraditional office spaces -- would be one unwelcoming to women. One would expect, for example, that it would be ideal for mothers that need to attend to their children’s schedules. But in reality, startups are a place that inherent bias can lurk and thrive. Women are frequently judged on their appearance before their skills or achievements. They’re held to higher standards, even to the point of perfectionism. They’re frequently asked to contribute in a way that requires them to be representative of all women, not just themselves. And diversity training programs meant to address the problem can sometimes make things worse by putting forth the notion that such bias is normal and inadvertently confirming it as “OK.”

Besides culminating into a toxic environment, these factors have real, concrete consequences. One is the problem of the wage gap. Though legislation has been introduced to address this, it remains a prevalent problem: it is estimated that it will take 100-217 years to close the wage gap worldwide, and women still make only 82% of what their male counterparts earn. This is often attributed to the idea that women simply choose lower-paying careers or don’t negotiate enough for their salaries -- but this is not necessarily the case. A moving testimony I heard recently from a powerful woman at Google made clear that she had done everything correctly: negotiated her salary, performed highly at her job, spoken up, etc. Yet, ten years into her time at the company, she discovered that men that reported to her were making significantly more than she was. The issue was eventually resolved, but this is not the first (or only) time this type of situation has arisen.

Another real consequence is sexual harassment, as revealed over the past year as #MeToo has taken flight. Seventy-eight percent of women startup founders say they or someone they know has been sexually harassed. The degrees of severity are, of course, varied, from minor annoyances to major assaults. I won’t dwell on this at length, but if you’d like to read further on the topic, some powerful stories can be found here and here.

GOING FORWARD

So what should women and men do going forward to mitigate these problems? What has changed recently, and how far do we still have to go? For one thing, the awareness of the problem has increased dramatically. Since the dawn of #MeToo and other similar movements, people simply talk about the issue more. This has the potential to increase social standards and accountability levels across the board, but raises the issue of desensitization and alienation.

Legislative changes have also furthered the cause. Recent supreme court rulings have overturned precedents that left room for wage discrimination. Additionally, California -- the home of Silicon Valley and arguably the hub of the tech world -- is in the process of passing legislation that requires publicly traded companies with more than six board members to have at least one woman on their board.

But what about some more immediate fixes? I began to wonder if there were any ways groundbreaking technology had the potential to help women with any of the issues described above. Some of what I found had the opposite of the intended effect -- like this story about Amazon’s AI hiring tool that inadvertently discriminated against women. Most of what I found, though, was positive. It was also more low-tech than you might expect.

The most significant common factor in what I found was their role in closing the information gap -- though many of the systemic problems women face in these fields can only be truly resolved in the long term, what we can do in our own lives starts with what we know. For example, online salary tools like Glassdoor have the potential to help close the wage gap by allowing women to see what men in their field are making and negotiate accordingly. Sites like Muse allow women to research company culture and make decisions about the type of environment they want to work in without having to experience harassment first. Even our good old friend Twitter is making a difference by amplifying voices and holding people and companies accountable. Perhaps most significantly, research is showing more and more that diverse teams simply perform better.

If companies want to stay ahead of the curve, especially in the fast-paced world of tech and entrepreneurship, they’re going to have to start listening to the buzz -- to the research, to the women, to the truth.

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ma-bien-aimee · 6 years

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Why does Oscar choose to live her life as a man?

The anime of The Rose of Versailles starts off very differently from the manga. The pilot episode introduces Oscar and features the events that lead to her decision to wear the military uniform and become Commander of the Royal Guards, charged with protecting Marie-Antoinette.

The act of donning the uniform symbolises that Oscar decides to leave aside her womanhood once and for all and to lead the rest of her life as a man. The episode emphasizes the fact that Oscar consciously chooses her path after much soul-searching. However, it does not explain how Oscar finally makes her decision or why she makes that particular decision. Here, I will attempt to fill in those blanks.

Disclaimer: The anime scripts have been taken from the subtitles in the North American DVD release by Right Stuf, via Nozomi Entertainment.

The manga scanlations are made by me based on the original Japanese text and the official French translation. They are bound to be clumsy as English is not my mother tongue and as I am not proficient in either Japanese or French. Having thus broken all the rules of the translation world, I hope I was able to convey the gist of the meaning enough to make my point.

Needless to say, The Rose of Versailles is copyright Riyoko Ikeda. I don’t have any claim over the story, characters, manga, anime, designs, etc. These stills and script from the anime, and scans from the manga, are featured here for only for the purpose of providing insight into the subject matter I am attempting to analyse in this post.

***

So why does Oscar choose to live her life as a man?

Like every young heir being prepared for a military career, I suppose that Oscar was engrained with a notion of what an ideal man is from childhood. In episode 28 ("André, a Green Lemon"), she alludes to this ideal:

In this scene, after riding her horse to exhaustion to let out her frustration, Oscar brings her mount to back to the stable, followed by André. Her eye catches her name scratched on the wall.

OSCAR

Do you remember these scratch marks on this the wall?

ANDRE

Yeah, I remember. It was around the time when I first came to this manor. It’s the scratch marks from us measuring our height.

OSCAR

That was 23 years ago. I didn’t have a shadow of a doubt that I was a boy back then. I still hadn’t known what love or falling in love meant.

OSCAR

I was brought up as a man. There’d be nothing strange if I lived the rest of my life, even more so, as a man. That’s why I’m going to leave the Royal Guards. I want to live as a man! Being a woman… These emotions… I want to forget it all! I want a mission that only a man could do! I couldn’t care less if I were an infantry soldier! I want to carry a gun, cross the river and fight the enemy! I want my days to be spent risking my life in the line of duty, without love or romance! I want to live more like a man! I’m going to return to those days, when I believed I was a boy. I swear, I will!

This scene gives us an idea about Oscar’s perception of the ideal man: a tough, strong, duty-bound soldier who dedicates himself to fighting the enemy and has no room for anything else in his life.

Also in this scene, Oscar admits to herself that she hasn’t been able to live up to this ideal. She fell in love with Fersen and was later heartbroken. She blames her womanhood, which she regards as a weakness, for straying from this ideal and strives to get back on track. She believes that once she achieves this ideal, everything will be all right and she won’t suffer anymore.

Then in episode 30 (“You’re the Light, I’m the Shadow”), General Jarjayes tearfully admits to Oscar that he regrets his decision to raise her daughter as his son because it caused her to face unnecessary hardships, and asks for her forgiveness. Evidently not expecting such an emotional outburst from her father, Oscar is momentarily taken aback. Then, she sits back in her chair and plucks out a single white rose from the vase in front of her. As she distractedly pulls off the petals of the rose, she calmly says, “Father, please don’t worry. I didn’t abandon my womanhood as much as you think. I even fell madly in love as a woman once. In fact, I’m very grateful to you, Father. Because you raised me as a man, I’m able to forget everything and live strongly.”

Here, Oscar’s calm acknowledgment of her femininity is in stark contrast to her fervent assertions back in episode 28. She seems to have calmed down and to be more at peace with her womanhood. However, the reason why I wanted to mention this scene here is the bit about ‘forgetting about everything else and living stronger.’

I think what Oscar means by it is that her upbringing as a man has allowed her to better cope with the hardships in her life. She can take action or has the resources to take action in the face of conflict because she was raised as a man, while if she had been raised as a woman, she would have been helpless to take action or she would have had to ask a man to do so in her stead.

Take the duel with the Duke de Guéméné. The cruel Duke catches a poor little boy in the slums of Paris, trying to steal his money. Rosalie pleads with him to forgive the child this once as he attempted theft because he hadn’t eaten in days. The Duke seemingly forgives the boy, but then shoots him in the back, killing him instantly. Witnessing the scene, Oscar is outraged. She doesn’t issue a challenge right away, but she certainly taunts the Duke. Perhaps since the Duke’s rank is higher than Oscar’s, he could refuse Oscar’s challenge to a duel and she didn’t want to risk that.

If Oscar were raised as a woman, I’m guessing that it would be more difficult for her to stand up to the Duke, who would then have to challenge her father or her husband to a duel.

Although we are talking about the anime here, I thought the manga could provide some insight as well. In chapter 6 (“The Burning Flames of Revolution”), Oscar again thanks her father for raising her as a man and says to him something along the lines of how being raised the way she was has allowed her to live as a human being in this vast world in the midst of the foolish struggles of humans, although she was born female. It doesn’t make much sense to me, but this is what I could come up with.

As much as it is sad, Oscar has got a point about how being raised as a man allowed her to live as a ‘human being,’ as if women are not humans. Even today, the women’s rights movement worldwide is still trying to establish the most basic notion that women are human beings just like men are.

The scene continues with Oscar saying to General Jarjayes, “I don’t have regrets anymore. From now on, I will live as the child of Mars, the God of War, and dedicate myself to my sword and pistol. I will live my life as a soldier.” This statement mirrors the one she makes above in episode 28.

However, it is important to note that, in the manga, Oscar’s confrontation with her father takes place after the mob attack in Paris, meaning after Oscar realises for the first time that she might harbour feelings for André. It also takes place after Girodelle confronts Oscar squarely, asking her without preliminaries if she is in love with André, to which she responds by saying, “I don’t know.”

This tells me that although she has realised that she might have feelings for André, she has no intention of acting on them. Until she can’t help herself anymore, after seeing how André is willing to sacrifice himself for her in the famous incident with General Jarjayes’ attempt to punish Oscar for her disobedience.

Judging from the way Oscar has carried with her this dedication to walk the path of the duty-bound soldier well into her adult years, General Jarjayes must have done everything he can to make sure his daughter aspired to become this ideal man.

I imagine that spending fourteen years, devoid of almost any female influence, being trained and preached to be a soldier would have a lasting effect on any young girl, for lack of knowing any better, if for nothing else. I don’t think Oscar grew up with any female role models around. She wouldn’t even be able to imagine a life spent as a woman for herself. Just look at how shocked she is when, as an adult, she realizes that if her father hadn’t decided to raise her as his son, her life would have been just like her sisters’.

With her upbringing, the fourteen-year-old Oscar would have rebelled fiercely against being constricted to the traditional gender roles of the time for women.

Note that Oscar does rebel, as an adult, when General Jarjayes has a sudden change of heart and decides to marry Oscar off. But her rebellion is tinged with sadness because she has already known as a woman what it is like to fall hopelessly in love with a man. Then, with good reason, she asks herself this question:

On the other hand, Oscar is a headstrong, stubborn and rebellious character, a fighter in spirit. Even if she were raised as a woman, I believe that she would have resisted just as fiercely against being forced into any traditional role for women if she didn’t want it herself.

[EDIT 27/01/2018]: Take this particular (watercolour!) scene from chapter 5 (“Oscar’s Suffering”). When patrolling the grounds of Versailles with the French Guards one night, Oscar runs into Fersen, obviously returning from a secret assignation with Marie-Antoinette (Just ignore the strip with Alain and the other guards). After getting over the initial shock of seeing him after such a long time, Oscar sends him safely on his way. Then, her mind wanders to Marie-Antoinette and to the fact that the queen doesn’t have the freedom to take control over her own life. By her own admission, Oscar can’t imagine herself in her shoes.

[/EDIT]

However, if Oscar were raised as a woman, I imagine that her resistance to conform with what is expected of her would not be deemed legitimate or, let’s say, would be deemed less legitimate, because she is already born and raised as a woman, not born as a woman but raised as a man.

Knowing herself, perhaps Oscar thought that living her life as a man would better suit her independent personality. Perhaps she finally chose to lead her life as a man because she thought that it would give her a lot more freedom that she wouldn’t have had as a woman.

One can then, of course, question how much freedom she had as a man, as a duty-bound soldier, compared to how much freedom she would have had as a woman, as a lady of the court. Needless to say, Oscar, as a man, isn’t free to abandon her military duties or break her allegiance to the crown of France, let alone join the revolutionists. What I mean by freedom in this context is that Oscar, as a man, has the right to have an opinion and is asked for her opinion. She can make her own decisions, as well as decisions that will affect others. She behaves with confidence among other men, knowing that they accept her as one of them, as their equal. She also has freedom of movement without needing a chaperone, thus she spends more time outdoors and leads a more active life. The list goes on.

In conclusion, the answer to the question of why Oscar finally chose to lead her life as a man has lain in Oscar’s own words all along: At the end of episode 1 “Oscar, the Destiny of the Rose,” she tells her father in her mind that she has chosen this path not for him or for anyone else, but for herself only. Oscar decides that she can be more “herself” if she lived as a man.

#oscar françois de jarjayes #rose of versailles #berusaiyu no bara #lady oscar #gender #choice #man or woman #analysis #versailles no bara

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jsbowie-blog1 · 6 years

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Sexuality across representation and discourses

The Mammy is one of the oldest controlling images for black women. The Mammy was typically described as a woman who took care of the white slave owners children. She is typically depicted as a desexualized overweight woman, she is made to be unattractive. She is the complete opposite of conventional beauty standards based upon Eurocentric features. In contrast, she is a dark-skinned, older, and overweight woman, typically made to be unintelligent. She is the polar opposite of a white, blonde hair, blue eyed, skinny, straight hair woman. Her image was created to perpetuate the myth that black women were unattractive and unintelligent. They created a desexualized character to protect the idea that white men, particularly slave owners, were not attracted to black women and therefore could not rape them. The Mammy was seen in several movies, commercials, and mainstream media. For a long period, the only role black women could receive in the media was the Mammy image. The most famous example being Aunt Jemima. When asked why Aunt Jemima products were so successful, a historian suggested: “Aunt Jemima’s ready-mixed products offered middle-class housewives the next best thing to a black servant: a “slave in a box”. The Mammy can even be seen today in characters such as Medea. Most stereotypes we see in this age can have some roots in the Mammy character such as the “Sister Savior”, as described in Stephens article.

(This image is from an old Aunt Jemima package, found on google images)

This image is the Jezebel. Another very old controlling image used to stereotype black women’s sexuality. The Jezebel is the antithesis of the Mammy, and is an image we see much more often than the Mammy now, and also has been shaped into several other images. African sexuality was viewed as erotic, when colonizers came to the continent and saw Africans nudity they mistook it for lewdness and promiscuity. This archetype was created to justify the rapes of African slaves. The Jezebel is characterized as a woman with an insatiable sex drive who drives men to temptation (stemming from the bible’s Jezebel). In essence, black slaves could not be raped because they desired sex so much, therefore slave masters were simply giving them what they desired. This image continues as we see black women hyper-sexualized and fetishized for their black features as well as assumed to be more sexually promiscuous and “freaky”. The Jezebel can be seen spread through common stereotypes such as the “Freak”, Gold Digger, Welfare Queen, and Video Vixens. This image has been used as a tool to control black women’s sexuality as well as hyper-sexualize and fetishize black women. Black women are sought after for their mythical sexual behaviors and eroticism because of such stereotypes.

(image found on Google images : searched Jezebel Archetype)

The Diva is a sexual script given to African American women. She is described as fair skinned, slim, and straight hair. She comes from middle class. In essence she is independent, however she chooses to men who are higher in status to therefore elevate her own. Men still shape who she is as a person despite this proclaimed independence. I used a picture of myself because in description is it an image that I fit. My sister, my mother, and myself, prided ourselves on being “Diva’s” throughout my life I have basically been considered a Diva. As an African American, your womanhood cannot be fully shaped without a man’s placement in your life. The idea that even someone who is essentially independent but still depends upon a man is damaging. It teaches adolescent black girls that they aren’t complete until a man makes them complete. Also, your status in society is contingent upon the men you sleep with, which is not true. Of the sexual scripts prescribed to black women, the Diva seems the lesser of the evils, however it is still extremely problematic.

Another sexual script is the Earth mother. The Earth mother as described by Stephen “...appears to have a more developed sense of self as expressed through an Afrocentric political and spiritual consciousness that is obviously part of their everyday discourse and worldview. Traditional views of beauty are openly challenged by the Earth Mother’s beauty expectations and ideals embedded within an Afrocentric framework.”

I took this picture for my snapchat. As I’ve grown and become more politically aware of my existence and my place in the world I’ve moved towards spirituality. I have also chosen to embrace my hair and rebel against Eurocentric beauty standards. I have also embraced brujeria and african styled “witchcraft”. I love stars and crystals and all things magical. This has scared people within my culture as well as men. Stephens describes that the spiritual mother has a lower pool of eligible men because of their beliefs. Spiritually aware women tend to scare not only men but many people in the black community and that is because we defy notions that stem from colonialism. We reject patriarchal and racist standards.

This is me and my best friend. The next sexual script is the “Freak”. She is sexually promiscuous in her own right, she is “overtly” sexual.

I am not at all saying either my friend or myself are freaks. However something Stephen did not point out is how darkskin women are constantly hyper-sexualized in comparison to lightskin women. Much like how black women are typically described to be more sexual and less pure than white women. This same standard applies across racial groups depending on who is fairer skinned. My actions sexually do not hold the same weight as a dark skinned woman. Not only that, behaviors from darker complected women also tend to be seen as either more aggressive or sexual, even if that is not their intention. In the media the freak is typically a dark skinned woman. If it is a light skinned women her behavior is not overtly sexual. Lightskin women typically are portrayed to be gold diggers rather than a freak. Where freaks are seen as worse than gold diggers because they love sex just for pure satisfaction rather than for rewards. This idea that women simply enjoy sex, in the same way that men do, is a foreign idea to people, especially the black community.

(This picture is from cosmopolitan magazine)

This is a picture of Blac Chyna. The next sexual script to describe black women is the Gold Digger. This woman uses sex in order to gain material or monetary value. She relies completely on men for her livelihood. Gold digger is something that can be used for all women, but the demonization of the black gold digger is specifically unique. Celebrities like Amber Rose and Blac Chyna have become infamous for “using men” to acquire wealth. White women such as the Kardashians and many other women don’t receive as much hate for the same nature. The hate many people carry for Blac Chyna can be seen as direct hatred towards black women. When young white women marry men in their 80s they don’t receive the same energy, in fact its fairly common. No one blinks an eye when we see an affluent older white man with a younger trophy wife. But when a black women does the same its an issue. In most cases, it is not clear that a woman is a gold digger. Blac Chyna for instance became famous because of her relationship to famous rapper Tyga who is also the father to her child. She stayed with him until he left her for another woman. When she moved on she received rampant backlash for moving on to Robert Kardashian. While I may not know the ins and outs of their entire lives the initial treatment of Blac Chyna who was faithful to a man before he was even famous and was dumped after is rise to fame makes it clear how people view black women and their sexuality as a whole. When families like the Kardashians can use their sex appeals and scandals to rise to fame as well as increase their wealth, black women cannot.

The next sexual script is the Baby Mama. This photo is of me, my son (Zaiden), and Zaiden’s dad. The baby mama is described as a women who traps men and is the mother to a man’s child and NOTHING more. This happens when an illegitimate child is born. The baby mama is believed to purposefully get pregnant in order to force a man to stay in her life, as well as provide financially. I grew up in an urban area. Most women with children are considered baby mamas, however people often tell me I don’t fall into this scope. But I am the mother to a child, one I had before marriage. People tend to exclude me from such categorization because “I’m doing something with my life” or my child’s father is white so it doesn’t really count. The way I see people treat and talk about young black mothers but try to exclude me from the group is infuriating. This image has been long depicted upon my community with images such as the “welfare queen”. I know many men who were raised by single mothers and absent fathers and they still carry this stereotype in their minds. They forget their mother was probably called a baby mama. Black mothers, specifically young ones are constantly demonized, while white young mothers are glamorized with tv shows such as teen mom, or even the treatment of Kylie Jenner vs the way black moms are treated.

(This image was taken from twitter)

This is Cora Simmons, a character consistently depicted in Tyler Perry films and plays. She is the “sister savior”. She represents traditional views and the religious foundation of African Americans. She is moral, obedient, and saved. Being African American and growing up in the church this script is something that is common to see. In movies there is always a saved grandma or middle aged woman who is the moral compass and gives the gospel. This depiction can stem from the mammy because it is a desexualized caricature which is the care taker.

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phgq · 3 years

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Equality, inclusivity still sought by women

#PHnews: Equality, inclusivity still sought by women

CAGAYAN DE ORO CITY—As the country marks the National Women's Month, young women--including those who identify as transwomen--said that while the fight for gender equality has come a long way, the advocacy to debunk stereotypes and end all discrimination against women and girls must be sustained. Even amid the pandemic, these women said continuous dialogues and active participation remain key in spreading awareness to protect women's rights, promote greater inclusivity and respect for one's choices. Schoolteacher Kristine Eblacas, 27, said the most palpable form of stereotype she has experienced is whenever people tell her to get married as she is approaching the 30s. Not only is this subtle patriarchal imposition disrespectful, but it disregards the women's inherent right to happiness, which for her meant pursuing her career goals--something she thought would have been particularly challenging for a woman if she marries early. Worse, Eblacas said the notion that women should marry at a certain age seems to perpetuate a derisive ancient concept that women are only meant for childbearing. At one point, she said a commenter on her Facebook post insinuated that unlike men who can easily get married because of their gender, women face "limited options" when they age. "We should work out on respecting women’s choices, opinions, and principles on marriage. Stop pressuring women to get married just because she needs to have a child before she gets older," Eblacas said. "Stop dictating women with your gender-biased standards." If a single, independent, and childless woman is happy and contented, "she doesn’t owe you an explanation," she added. Challenging gender stereotypes and changing people's mindsets, however, entails a change in the way women see themselves in the context of gender and development, according to Mary Rose Ratunil, a college student in Alae, Manolo Fortich, Bukidnon. Ratunil, 21, said women should not only be seen as mere "targets of development, but rather as active agents of these developments." While she understood that some women deliberately avoid political discourse or taking a role in traditionally male-dominated positions for fear of being targeted, Ratunil said true empowerment only comes if women like her take on the challenge and lead the way in breaking barriers. In fact, she believes women should seek out roles that challenge the traditional notion of leadership. "Only few women are given the privilege to lead and to be on the position, when in fact women can equally do the tasks," she said. Views from transwomen For individuals who identify themselves as transwomen, the challenges of seeking inclusivity and equality are greater, despite the Filipino society's attitude of being tolerant and accepting of them. Iztella Ubal-ubal, 23, who resides in Tagoloan, Misamis Oriental, said transwomen don't need special treatment, contrary to what some people may assume. All they wanted is not to be discriminated against in the workplace or find suitable careers, she said. Ubal-ubal has been in a relationship with a 29-year-old partner, and the couple is raising an eight-year-old boy--her partner's son from a previous relationship. Both of them are finding ways to generate more income by working odd jobs, even sell online to make ends meet. "We (transwomen) have to work to put food on the table, but it gets problematic when employers would ask us to cut our hair and look like men. Some employers are understanding, but there are only a few of them," she said. She lamented that transwomen still experience unsafe environments and bullying from time to time despite the calls for women's rights. Justine Gaabucayan, 23, also a resident here, sees the need to hold sustained dialogues to educate the public about the plight not only of transwomen but also of the other people in the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and queer communities (LGBTQ+). "Transgender people's experience globally is that of extreme social exclusion that translates into increased vulnerability to HIV, other diseases, including mental health conditions, limited access to education and employment, and loss of opportunities for economic and social advancement," Gaabucayan said. "In addition, hatred and aggression towards a group of individuals who do not conform to social norms around gender manifest in frequent episodes of extreme violence towards transgender people. This violence often goes unpunished," she added. Despite all this, the women hope the National Women's Month would remain a venue and an opportunity to enlist allies and other advocates who can be their partners for change and development. (PNA)

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References:

* Philippine News Agency. "Equality, inclusivity still sought by women." Philippine News Agency. https://www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1133052 (accessed March 10, 2021 at 03:24AM UTC+14).

* Philippine News Agency. "Equality, inclusivity still sought by women." Archive Today. https://archive.ph/?run=1&url=https://www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1133052 (archived).

#Philippines #News #Filipino #Pinoy #Tourism #Politics #Culture #Editorial #Environment #Society #History

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southeastasianists · 7 years

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From the environment and LGBT rights to reproductive health and women’s empowerment, Cambodia’s female-forward young activists are blazing a new path

The forcible removal of Cambodians from their homes has created a subclass of the dispossessed, with hundreds of thousands affected by conflicts over land. But the suffering endured by the mostly poor evictees, usually moved on to make way for corporate interests, has had an unintended side-effect: galvanising a growing wave of female Cambodian activists.

The women of Boeung Kak lake, whose noisy and vibrant protests on the streets of Phnom Penh have seen them arrested multiple times, are perhaps the best known, with news of the deal to fill in the lake and seize residents’ land resonating in media outlets around the globe. Yet they are far from alone: Cambodian women regularly spearhead land rights demonstrations, and in recent years some have even parlayed their newfound activism into entering the political sphere.

“Persisting cultural beliefs about the traditional role of Khmer women as caregivers and homemakers mean that land conflict, and the lack of income it often brings, has a disproportionate impact on women,” Cambodian Centre for Human Rights (CCHR) executive director Chak Sopheap said earlier this year, “with the result that they are often the ones motivated to engage in activism on behalf of their community.”

And this desire for an end to such injustices has caused ripples in other spheres of activism. In 2009, Lim Kimsor, who also goes by Gigi, watched on in horror as her community was evicted from the Group 78 site in central Phnom Penh. “Our family was offered decent compensation, but my father said he could not leave the community behind. So we stayed and protested with them, for the sake of the whole group,” she said.

Inspired by this show of solidarity, the 28-year-old went on to become an outspoken activist for Mother Nature, the gritty environmental network that has exposed illegal sand dredging on multiple occasions (the non-governmental organisation was recently disbanded following sustained pressure from authorities, but its members plan to continue their work as a loose, informal coalition). Kimsor regularly travels to meet with villagers in remote areas, where she alleges she has been threatened, physically assaulted and, on one occasion, detained for 17 hours. “Whenever we have meetings or conduct any training [sessions] with villagers, plain-clothes police or security guards come [as an act of intimidation],” she said.

As an activist in a country where many women still cannot access education and are pushed into traditional homemaker roles, Kimsor feels a sense of responsibility to help guide other women to begin pursuing lives free of the confines of gendered expectations. “This is a powerful way to lift each other up,” she said.

The strict moral code set down in the Chbab Srey, or ‘Rules for Girls’, and their male equivalent, has long acted as a behavioural guide for men and women. It describes the ideal woman as being gentle, shy and subservient to her husband. Included as a course in the national school curriculum until 2007, a pared-down version continues to be taught at public schools in grades seven to nine.

But as Cambodia, a fast-developing nation, continues to undergo rapid economic change and smartphone technology proliferates, a social transformation is also beginning to take hold. Catherine V Harry, a 23-year-old vlogger known for her frank videos that mostly centre on sexual and reproductive rights, said that young women – particularly those in the increasingly cosmopolitan capital of Phnom Penh – were “rising up to claim their rights”.

“It has become this tug-of-war because there’s a generation gap,” she said. “The new generation, the majority of them are under 30 and social media is coming into play, people are being exposed to different cultures, different people in different countries, and they get more information – not just from their parents or their peers or their schools but they get information from other countries.”

Harry’s most popular video to date – an exploration of the taboos around virginity – has garnered two million views. But while her opinions have won her plenty of fans, they have also provoked a hostile response. “I also get a lot of hate, a lot of backlash. Many of them are men – they feel threatened because they think I’m trying to destroy the culture. But also there are some women saying I’m ruining the image of what a Khmer woman should be,” she said.

For Noy Chhorvin, the national coordinator of the Cambodian Young Women’s Empowerment Network (CYWEN), challenging stereotypical notions of Khmer womanhood is central to her mission. A vocal feminist, she is leading the members of her voluntary organisation as they focus on a trio of key areas over a three-year period to 2019 – gender-based violence, labour rights and education, all of which she sees as key areas for the progress of Cambodian women.

“The main point is to build up leadership through [imparting] feminism to our members,” she said. “We want to provide awareness-raising to people, especially young people, on gender equality.” Advocating for changes that have their roots in the West’s 1960s women’s liberation movement, Chhorvin and her contemporaries are seeking to transplant feminism into Khmer culture: a mission that’s not always straightforward. Like many women, she had to overcome the judgement of her relatives in provincial Kampong Cham before forging her own path, which to date has included becoming the first member of her family to earn a bachelor’s degree.

“When I was starting to pursue my education it was very challenging. Many people disagreed with my idea, they thought that women don’t need higher education, [that] just to graduate from Year 12 or Year 9 is fine,” she said. There was also opposition to the idea that she should attend university in Phnom Penh, far from home and deemed “unsafe for women”.

And while Chhorvin described herself as fully ensconced in the “sisterhood” of CYWEN, she has seen her own attitudes evolve since learning about, and embracing, feminism. “Before I felt discriminatory [toward] sex workers and LGBT people. Now I have made myself free of that,” she said. Now, she recognises that “everyone has their right to [fulfil] their potential by themselves”.

In that vein, gender equality still has a long way to go. Rachana Chhoeurng, also known as Tana, is well aware of the prejudice that Cambodia’s LGBT community faces: she came out as a lesbian five years ago at the age of 25 and has been subjected to discrimination. Now an activist with Phnom Penh-based human rights group CamASEAN, she works to tackle issues faced by the LGBT community, such as forced marriage, mental and physical abuse, and a lack of access to services. “I wanted to fight for my lifestyle, just to have a normal life,” she said. “We need to start the movement, starting from women and the LGBT movement. I won’t give up.”

Similarly to the other activists, Chhoeurng said that she would like to see all Cambodians embrace notions of equality. “It is not only LGBT people who should take control of this,” she said. “I would like the whole society to help raise each other up, not only the LGBT community, but everybody.”

As more men and women come to a similar conclusion, the movement for equality is mushrooming. Thida Khus, the executive director of Silaka, has been a mainstay of the fight for gender equality in Cambodia since establishing her NGO, which is dedicated to increasing women’s participation in politics, in the early 1990s. She believes that efforts to promote women’s rights are now passing into the hands of young female activists.

“Where we are today, it was not [a result of events] over the past 10 or 20 years. It was over the past 100 years that we have been neglecting [gender equality] and allowing this to take place. It is a continuous battle,” she said. “The next generation will make the change”.

#Southeast Asia #Cambodia #Gender Issues #Lim Kimsor #Noy Chhorvin #Rachana Chhoeurng #Environmental Issues #Sexuality #LGBTQIA Issues

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