specific tw: canon-typical violence, bullying, and injury (midoriya breaking his bones), brief mention of uraraka throwing up in line with canon, bakugo does call reader a bitch just in case anyone has some gender issues w that. see masterpost for genre + genre tw.
notes: bakugo is a bully here, but fear not i will be doing my best to do him justice in this series.
the UA lecture hall looms in front of you, and you’re not going inside of it. not because you’re avoiding the written exam, or because you want to stay out here with all of the other people – loud, chattering, grating on your ears. no. you’re out here because it’s sunny and warm, and, both fortunately and unfortunately, loud. this is the best place to charge your quirk for the physical exam.
you watch the other students arrive as you bask in the heat and light and noise, observing the ways they walk and talk and approach each other: ankle injury, probably acts rashly, touching her hair to calm herself down; nervous, shy, doesn’t like his smile. easy to figure out. you move on to observing the next group of students – might as well, there’s nothing else to do while you wait.
specific tw: canon-typical violence, bullying, and injury (midoriya breaking his bones), brief mention of uraraka throwing up in line with canon, bakugo does call reader a bitch just in case anyone has some gender issues w that. see masterpost for genre + genre tw.
notes: bakugo is a bully here, but fear not i will be doing my best to do him justice in this series.
the UA lecture hall looms in front of you, and you’re not going inside of it. not because you’re avoiding the written exam, or because you want to stay out here with all of the other people – loud, chattering, grating on your ears. no. you’re out here because it’s sunny and warm, and, both fortunately and unfortunately, loud. this is the best place to charge your quirk for the physical exam.
you watch the other students arrive as you bask in the heat and light and noise, observing the ways they walk and talk and approach each other: ankle injury, probably acts rashly, touching her hair to calm herself down; nervous, shy, doesn’t like his smile. easy to figure out. you move on to observing the next group of students – might as well, there’s nothing else to do while you wait.
specific tw: canon-typical violence, bullying, and injury (midoriya breaking his bones), brief mention of uraraka throwing up in line with canon, bakugo does call reader a bitch just in case anyone has some gender issues w that. see masterpost for genre + genre tw.
notes: bakugo is a bully here, but fear not i will be doing my best to do him justice in this series.
the UA lecture hall looms in front of you, and you’re not going inside of it. not because you’re avoiding the written exam, or because you want to stay out here with all of the other people – loud, chattering, grating on your ears. no. you’re out here because it’s sunny and warm, and, both fortunately and unfortunately, loud. this is the best place to charge your quirk for the physical exam.
you watch the other students arrive as you bask in the heat and light and noise, observing the ways they walk and talk and approach each other: ankle injury, probably acts rashly, touching her hair to calm herself down; nervous, shy, doesn’t like his smile. easy to figure out. you move on to observing the next group of students – might as well, there’s nothing else to do while you wait.
a blonde man with spiky hair walks through the gate, scowling, hands shoved in his pockets. you watch as he zeroes in on another man – solidly built, with green hair and a curled-in sort of posture – standing by himself near the steps, about ten feet away. you want to say they’re friends, but that doesn’t seem right, with the way the first guy is practically stomping toward the other one. maybe not friends, but they definitely know each other.
the blonde grabs the other boy by a backpack strap and yanks him forward, “what are you doing here, nerd? trying to one-up me, hah?”
yeah, they definitely know each other, and they definitely aren’t friends.
the guy with green hair is shaking and trying to push the other man’s hand off of his bag. “i’m just here to take the exam, i have the right to apply, kacchan–”
“and do what? cheat to get in? you’re not good enough to get in, so what’s the point in trying, deku?”
fuck it.
you’re over there in a flash; the sunlight and conserving your quirk for the past few days has made it easy to use bursts of kinetic energy like that.
the blonde man – angry guy, you decide – sees you approach and whirls around, still gripping the other guy by the strap of his backpack. “fuck off, extra. this is between me and deku.”
you blink at him. “no.”
the nervous guy – deku – starts scrambling to get out of the angry guy’s grip, and the blonde’s hand starts popping with what look like small explosions. he looks like he’s about to start some kind of tirade, so you cut him off.
“look, i don’t know who either of you are, or what you,” you jab a finger at angry guy, “think you’re doing, but you shouldn’t be getting in people’s heads before the exam. it’s underhanded and nasty to undermine someone’s performance like that.”
deku, green hair, whatever his name is, is whipping his head back and forth between the two of you, looking like a deer in the headlights of two oncoming cars, not knowing which direction to run. “uhhh–”
angry guy snarls. “i am bakugo katsuki, and this is deku, and you’re a nosey bitch that i’m going to turn into a stain on the ground.”
you grab him by the shirt and suck the heat and noise and light right out of his palms. “no,” you hiss, “i’m the nosey bitch that you don’t want to mess with. leave, or i report you and you don’t get to take the exam.” you pry his hand off of deku’s backpack and shove angry guy away. “get.”
he stumbles back, switching between glaring at you and his smoking palms, which he shoves back into his pockets. he’s hiding his hands; unnerved, then. “fine. i’ll see you after, deku, when they’re not around to get in the way,” he throws another scowl over his shoulder and stalks off, into the exam hall.
you turn back to deku, who is staring after the other boy, stunned. “are you okay?” it comes out so stiff that you can hear your parents telling you to talk nicer.
he shakes his head and looks back at you. he still looks dazed, eyes flitting around your face, swallowing nervously. “yeah, yeah, i’m fine. mhm. just fine. totally.”
“do you want me to report him? i know the proctor, and he’ll kick that guy out for bullying.”
he shakes his head even harder, taking a step back and waving his hands in a frenzy of activity, flushed, “no! no, you don’t need to report him, i promise he doesn’t mean anything by it, kacchan has been my friend my whole life, he just shows it a little differently, you really don’t need to report him – he needs to take this exam, he’s perfect for the hero course, really. yeah. i promise, you don’t need to report him.”
you look him over, eyes narrowed, skeptical. “mhm.” he looks like he’s going to combust. you switch directions before you have to deal with even more awkwardness, “i’m [surname] [first name].”
he visibly relaxes. clearly he’s glad to have moved on from potentially reporting his ‘childhood friend.’ “midoriya izuku, and it’s great to meet you!”
midoriya’s smile is so bright that you wonder if you could use it to fuel your quirk. the thought makes you smile, just a little. “yeah, good to meet you too.”
you stand there and watch him fidget. the conversation might be dry and awkward as hell, but nothing gets people to talk like silence, and he keeps looking like he’s going to reach for something in his bag.
“can i…” he chews his lip, then brightens, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “can i ask some questions? about what you did to kacchan’s quirk?”
your smile almost drops, but you keep it up. he can use this information against you, if the exam is structured that way. he doesn’t look like the type, but… it’s not smart to share that type of thing. you don’t owe him anything – you just saved his ass, and his friend’s ass by way of not reporting him; if anyone owes anyone, he owes you. and you’d really prefer not to discuss this, anyways.
midoriya is almost vibrating with excitement. he gets a notebook and pen out so fast that he almost drops them. the look on his face is so hopeful, bright; it makes it hard to say no.
“fine.”
“so, you extinguished his explosions, right?”
you nod.
“did you deactivate his quirk? can you put fires out? is it an oxygen manipulation quirk? or a chemical reaction manipulation quirk? maybe you’re planning to work with water hose as a rescue hero?”
the variety of guesses, the possibilities, they make your head buzz, so much to think about. you file those away for later, when you can look them over in detail. “no deactivation, yes i can put fires out, no oxygen manipulation, and it doesn’t work too well for being a rescue hero.”
midoriya scribbles frantically, smile splitting his face, glancing up at you and nodding in between notes. after a while he stops and cocks his head. probably waiting for you to explain. you could toy with him and make him guess, which is what you usually did to people at school. but he just wants to know for the sake of knowing. that much is obvious, just from the pure excitement he’s exhibiting over basic questions. it’s stupid to do this, you remind yourself, if the exam pits us against each other, he’ll be fully capable of taking me down – or at least of planning to take me down. it’s stupid – but he looks so happy, and you may not be in the same exam section, so you do it anyway. you give, just the tiniest bit.
“it’s energy manipulation.” i won’t answer any more questions after this.
“i have so many questions– can you–”
present mic yells from inside the hall – the presentation on the written exam is about to start. the other students start to make their way inside.
his face falls – god, he wears everything on his sleeve, doesn’t he – and it makes your chest tighten. weird.
“i can explain after the exam, if you want.” it makes the weird chest feeling go away, at least.
just like that, he’s beaming, pen flipping in his hands, writing something down before tearing the paper out of his notebook and handing it to you. “i’m not sure, uh, if there’ll be an opportunity to talk after the exam? so here’s my number?”
you take the paper. he freezes and abruptly goes bright red, obviously realizing something.
“oh my god i did not– i totally did not mean it like that i just wanted to talk to you about– i’m so sorry that was so rude i promise– i wasn’t– i uh–” he covers his face with his hands. “i cannot believe i just. oh my god.”
you just put the paper in the outside pocket of your bag. “i didn’t think you meant it that way, so it’s fine.”
“thank god,” he mumbles, still hiding behind his hands.
that’s not something you’re gonna try and read into. you point toward the hall. “midoriya, we should probably go inside. the exam information session is gonna start and i’d rather not miss it.” it sounds awkward, stiff, but it’s the best you can manage.
“right, right! crap!”
—
this is almost too easy, you think, downing robots with localized electromagnetic pulses. it’s quick work, and it doesn’t take too much energy. you didn’t even need your capture weapon for this – it just makes it easier to maneuver, but you would’ve been fine without it.
still, you are starting to run out of energy. you’d refused yamada’s offer to charge you by screaming positive statements at you – you were going to pass this exam without help, thank you very much – and as much as electricity was a great charging source, it really concerned your parents and your mentors when you used electrical outets. fire was, similarly, out of the question. the point is, sunlight only does so much, and your palms stung from all of those electromagnetic pulses, and you’d absolutely wiped the floor with the rest of the contestants – you stopped the twenty initial robots dead in their tracks with a giant pulse right off the bat. so yeah, your battery capacity is running a little low.
of course that’s when a giant, towering, zero point robot shows up. there’s a woman trapped under rubble left behind by one of the more destructive candidates, she’s struggling to push it off. energy thrums under your skin and you’re off like a shot, speeding toward her in a blur of kinetic energy and the robot is approaching and you’re almost there and–
and the energy runs out and you fall hard, still going some unholy speed, tumbling across the pavement with the force of your momentum like you’ve been thrown from a speeding car. you land in a heap next to the young woman. you sit up – completely fine, and slightly recharged from the impact – and start trying to dig her out from under the slabs of metal and concrete. you have to pump kinetic energy into your limbs and back to lift the rubble. your bones are starting to feel a little brittle.
“if i can touch it with my hands, i can float it away,” she says, jerking her chin towards the rubble on top of her. she seems remarkably calm, even if her jaw is clearly tense – from pain or fear or both, you’re not sure.
either way, you nod and focus on the chunk of concrete pinning one of her arms. the ground is shaking as the robot gets closer. you need to hurry.
a flash of green flies by. you keep pushing the rubble until she has a full range of motion, and she floats the rubble off of her.
there’s a terrible crunching noise – you look up. midoriya is falling from the sky. the robot is incapacitated. and you are out of energy again. you have maybe five seconds. your capture weapon can’t reach that high, and it has more than enough tensile strength to hold him, but you’d risk his momentum slamming him into the ground at such a short distance.
you turn to the woman next to you – thankfully she’s visibly unharmed, other than a few cuts and bruises. “hey, can you float people too?”
she nods, exhausted and draped over a floating piece of rubble, one that had been under her when she was trapped. you shove her and the rubble through the air, approximating where midoriya will land – she reaches out to grab him just before he hits the ground.
everything falls out of the air. you’re grateful your feet were out of the way of the cement chunk. she throws up over the side of it. you’re even more glad that you were out of the way.
midoriya is lying on the ground, limbs twisted at awful angles, miraculously alive and not passed out or dead. you sit next to him on the pavement, careful not to touch him, because frankly his arm looks like the bones have been liquified.
“i’ve got some questions about your quirk, dude, never mind mine,” you say, wondering why the absolutefuck someone with a bone breaking quirk would want to ask about yours, which was comparatively pretty straightforward.
“yeah, me too.” it’s strained, but either he can’t feel anything or he’s got an insanely high pain tolerance, because he should be passed the fuck out from using a quirk that intensely. for his sake, you hope his brain has decided to cut off all those pain signals.
“you can still talk? while your arm and legs look like they’ve gone through a meat grinder?”
he winces. “is it that bad?”
“worse.”
“hopefully recovery girl gets here soon.”
you wonder if you should even ask, but he seems like he’s willing to respond to most things. anything. “so you’re telling me… you didn’t know your quirk was going to do that to you?”
“yeah.” he goes along with the topic u-turn, like you’d predicted.
“you propelled yourself hundreds of feet in the air and punched a giant metal robot in the face, not knowing what your quirk would do?”
“otherwise both of you would’ve been crushed. i couldn’t just let that happen!”
“thanks, i guess? although, since you’re so interested in it,” you huff a laugh, “you ought to know that my quirk would’ve protected both of us. you kind of broke your bones for nothing.”
he’s quiet. you get the feeling he’d be putting his hands over his face again right about now, if his arm wasn’t pulverized.
“but i appreciate it. not letting people you’ve just met get crushed by a giant robot. and now we’re even, too.”
you watch a watery smile flicker across his face, but it’s not a grimace. he can’t feel his arm and legs, then, at least. the thought soothes you.
recovery girl arrives, and you stand up. she can take care of midoriya and gravity girl. “see you at UA.”
you hear him say something like, “but i didn’t score any points!” as you walk away. rescue heroes exist for a reason, midoriya. and there is no separate exam for them.
you can only hope you’re right.
reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!! ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* main taglist here,series taglisthere. back to gt&h masterpost.
pairing + wc: parental erasermic + reader, midoriya izuku x reader in future chapters just not in prologue; 3.7k
specific tw: discussions of human trafficking + child abuse by villains, mention of foster system, mentions of death, mentions of chronic pain, collapsing buildings. see masterpost for genre + general tw.
notes: i’m rlly happy to be re-releasing this w gender neutral reader + some minor tweaks to the style! <3 pls enjoy!
your chamber is cold, dimly lit, and soundproofed. there’s very little for you to draw energy from, but there’s no worry of you getting too cold – the faint lights, far above, are enough for you to generate heat using your quirk. just not enough for you to get out, and just enough to make you strain as you force your quirk to keep running.
sensei stops outside your chamber – you can feel the buzz of electricity in his cells, and you press your tiny hand to the wall, trying to figure out exactly where he is on the other side of the one-way mirror. the warmth of your hand drags against its cold surface, a blur of barely-there fingerprints, the lines of your palm smeared with the motion.
pairing + wc: parental erasermic + reader, midoriya izuku x reader in future chapters just not in prologue; 3.7k
specific tw: discussions of human trafficking + child abuse by villains, mention of foster system, mentions of death, mentions of chronic pain, collapsing buildings. see masterpost for genre + general tw.
notes: i’m rlly happy to be re-releasing this w gender neutral reader + some minor tweaks to the style! <3 pls enjoy!
your chamber is cold, dimly lit, and soundproofed. there’s very little for you to draw energy from, but there’s no worry of you getting too cold – the faint lights, far above, are enough for you to generate heat using your quirk. just not enough for you to get out, and just enough to make you strain as you force your quirk to keep running.
sensei stops outside your chamber – you can feel the buzz of electricity in his cells, and you press your tiny hand to the wall, trying to figure out exactly where he is on the other side of the one-way mirror. the warmth of your hand drags against its cold surface, a blur of barely-there fingerprints, the lines of your palm smeared with the motion.
you stop when sensei is directly in front of you. the buzzing in his cells sings to you. you press closer to the mirror. there’s another pocket of electricity, but it feels odd, shifting; sensei is probably talking to that man with purple fog over his face. but you’ll never be able to hear them, not with the way your chamber is insulated, so you walk back to your bed, in the back corner of the room.
it’s starting to get warmer in the chamber, so training will be soon. you’re only allowed large quantities of energy when they know you’re going to use them up.
but hours pass, and the chamber is too hot, your whole body buzzing as the energy tries to jump out from under your skin. maybe it’s a new training exercise, a new way to push the limits of how much energy you can absorb. either way, you have to keep drawing it in, or it’ll get too hot.
you fall asleep and wake up sweating, skin crackling, and the air smells humid and warm and full of ozone. it’s hard to breathe, it’s so heavy – your lungs keep trying to hold it in, extract every last drop of energy from it. you have to force yourself to exhale, hard, like sensei taught you.
there’s light cracking through your skin, but you register it only faintly, too focused on grappling with the twisting, writhing mass of energy and trying to force it to stay in the center of your body.
but it’s not staying still – every time you push down on a wave of energy trying to escape in one direction, it just pulses out in the other. maybe, if you just let a little bit of it go, you’ll be able to hold on to the rest of it?
you hold your arm out, intent on discharging a small sound wave – but the cracks on your arm, the light energy seeping out of them in wisps, it scares you, and suddenly that ball of energy is tumbling out of control.
the wave of kinetic energy ripples out of you and slams into the walls of your chamber – they splinter with a deafeningly loud sound, folding and tearing like wet paper into the chambers next to yours, and the one-way mirror shatters into millions of tiny shards. but it doesn’t stop there – the entire building is shaking, and you can hear the other mirrors shattering and see the other walls crumbling throughout the warehouse. and then the ceiling comes down on top of you.
–
shota gets the call at six in the morning. or rather, he gets the call, but hizashi picks it up, because there’s no way in hell that anything is waking him from the dead of sleep on his day off.
except hizashi, who just shakes him awake and hands him the phone, saying, “it’s for you, babe. something about an explosion.”
“eraserhead speaking.” he wants to complain, but he knows it’s not the operator’s fault, and he knows there’s a reason they called him in on his day off.
“we need you to suppress some kind of explosion quirk in the warehouse district. there’s a collapsed, sorry, still collapsing building, and some fire and electricity issues. the fire department is dealing with the parts of the building that are burning, but there are people trapped inside, and the heat signatures indicate that one of them – a child, judging by size – is causing uncontrollable explosions, which are making it difficult to get anyone out. cementoss is currently stabilizing the building.”
“i’ll be there as fast as i can.” he can’t find it in himself to complain anymore.
as shota swings himself across the city on his capture weapon, rapidly approaching the warehouse district, he can see a plume of smoke billowing against the orange of the sunrise. he stops on top of a building and uses a nearby lamppost to lower himself to the ground.
the collapsed warehouse is smoking, and steam is rising off of it in the early morning light, but it is thankfully no longer on fire. cementoss is fusing cement slabs together in an effort to keep it from caving in further, and infrared hero, aptly named infra (hizashi calls her “heat seeker”) is intently watching the building. shota approaches her for debriefing.
“it was hard to see, earlier, with all of the fire interfering, and it’s blurry because of the heat retention of the concrete, but there are at least twenty people inside, half or more of which are children. there’s someone close to the center of the structure who is periodically letting out bursts of heat, and who we assume is also producing some kind of kinetic shockwave.”
“and cementoss has constructed a pathway so i can extract the person without disturbing the rubble and crushing other victims?”
“yes–” infra starts, and is abruptly cut off when the building rumbles, the ground shuddering along with it, the pavement near its base fracturing. “yes,” she pauses, eyes narrowing, “but you might want to wait while cementoss deals with whatever might’ve come loose just now.” she hands him an earpiece so she can direct him to the source of the explosions.
shota stands there, watching the wood and cement and metal smoke and steam, until cementoss gives him the go ahead.
he picks his way through the rubble, listening carefully to infra’s directions. sirens wail in the background, and broken glass crunches under his feet, but he can hear children crying through all of it. shota moves faster, pulls his goggles over his eyes.
infra tells him to stop and look down and to the right. all there is is a pile of debris, and it makes his heart leap into his throat. he starts digging through the chunks of cement, using his capture weapon to pull away particularly heavy or sharp pieces and to keep any large ones from falling. he has to work quickly, or risk getting hit by whatever quirk is hiding under there.
it only takes a few seconds, and then he’s looking down at a child – maybe seven years old, a little kid, curled up in a ball with their arms around their knees. there’s fissures in their skin with light pouring out of them, ashes in their hair. their eyes are glowing a terrifying, brilliant white – shota activates his quirk, hair floating up, and all the light evaporates from that tiny little body, they just look like a normal, scared kid.
it hits him that they really should’ve sent someone who was better with children. maybe gang orca. well, he might as well bite the bullet.
“i’m eraserhead. what’s your name?”
“[surname].” the kid looks up at him, face blank except for a slight frown. “what did you do to me? where did it go?”
shota offers his hand, and they take it, standing up. “where did what go?”
shota doesn’t have an answer.
he leads them out of the rubble, and thank god for the fact that they’re following – he really does not want to deal with a kicking, screaming kid in the middle of an unstable structure. the sunlight glints off of warped rebar, sharp and threatening. he tugs the kid slightly behind him.
“the energy. your hair went up and it went away.”
he has no fucking idea. “you’re right, it went away.” sometimes, telling kids that they’re right is the fastest way to get them to be quiet. surprisingly, it works.
they follow silently, gripping his hand with their tiny, slightly chubby fingers, until they finally get out of the rubble maze. now that the exploding kid is out, it’s safe to extract the other victims.
he crouches down in front of them, still holding their hand. “i’m going to leave you with the medical team, okay? they’re gonna check you over and take you to the hospital, if needed. i have to go get the other people out of there.”
except when shota stands up and tries to move away, they aren’t letting go. he tries stepping away again. it doesn’t work. it’s not just that they’re not letting go, it’s that he can’t break their grip – which is ridiculous, they’re a child, and their hand doesn’t even encompass his, meaning there’s a point where it should, in theory, be easy to break their hold.
theory isn’t holding up.
“you need to let go, or else i can’t get the other people out.” maybe he can guilt them into letting go? thankfully the other heroes on the scene are already digging through the rubble for the other victims.
they shake their head furiously, making some of the ash in their hair fly off. “no, sensei said i have to stay here. i can’t leave.”
shota resists the urge to drag a hand down his face. he really wishes tsukauchi was already here. “this is a school?”
“yes.” they nod solemnly.
“but this is the warehouse district.”
they stare at him. he tries breaking their grip again. they squeeze his hand tighter, and shota hears one of his joints crack.
“you can tell the police about the school and sensei when they get here, but you need to let go. i have to do my job. besides, your sensei is still in there, and i need to go rescue them.”
they cock their head, but loosen their grip a tiny bit. “no, sensei isn’t here. he left with the man who makes purple mist doorways. i think all the teachers left. i felt it, when they disappeared.”
felt it? grip strength? explosions? he can think about whatever the hell is going on with this child’s dangerous, wack ass quirk later. “okay, but the other students are still in there.”
“no,” they scrunch their eyes shut, grip tightening. “i can’t feel them. except amanatsu-chan. no one else is there.”
shota has a horrifying thought about heat signatures and dead bodies. he motions infra and one of cementoss’ sidekicks over.
“where is amanatsu-chan?” he asks, making eye contact with the sidekick, who is paying very close attention to the kid.
“she’s right next to where i was. in the room to the right, ‘cause she’s a month older than me.”
he turns his back to the kid and looks at infra. “that is the only person we need to rescue right now. everyone else is probably dead, according to them.”
infra looks toward the building, scanning. “the heat was probably trapped by the collapsed structure, and the fire made it difficult to see, but now that some of the rubble has been moved and the fire has been put out… there is only one heat signature that could possibly belong to someone who is alive. everything else… not even hypothermic bodies get that low.”
the sidekick rushes off with infra to guide them.
shota drags the kid along with him to the ambulance, which is now useless, with the exception of the two kids, and sits with them while the medical team looks them over. they still won’t let go of his hand, but he could break their hold now, if he needed to. if he wanted to.
he doesn’t.
—
they get the kid to the hospital, only with shota riding in the ambulance next to them, but they’re fine, and so is the other kid – a little girl. the only reason they decide to take the two kids to the hospital in the first place is because there’s nowhere else to take them, and they really, really need to see a quirk specialist. the other kid had some kind of odd, controlling speech effect, and he cannot, for the life of him, figure the first kid’s quirk out.
he leaves them with the quirk specialist, whom both kids use the sensei honorific for – they do that for every nurse and other adult, too – and goes back home to sleep. it’s almost the afternoon, but he doesn’t care. it’s his day off, damn it.
—
fuck that quirk specialist. he and hizashi are going to have to help the kid manage their quirk, according to his medical advice. thankfully, cementoss and tiger are more suited to the second kid.
he picks the problem child up from the train station in civilian clothes, hizashi next to him, cap pulled down to hide his face, hair half-down and not in that ridiculous cockatoo style. the kid’s brand new foster parents give them their phone numbers.
hizashi smiles at the kid and takes their hand, obviously completely forgetting that he’s not dressed as present mic. he does that around kids. “what’s your name, little listener?”
“[surname].” they turn to shota and blink accusingly, like he was supposed to tell hizashi.
“your first name, though?” hizashi prods, and shota laughs quietly through his nose.
“six.”
he stops laughing.
hizashi laughs awkwardly, his complete opposite, and definitely trying to smooth the situation over. “well, do you want to be called something different?”
their eyebrows furrow, and they reach for shota’s hand; he lets them. fine, they can hold both of their hands, dammit.
“is that allowed?”
hizashi gives him a look, one that means what the fuck. “yeah, yeah that’s allowed.”
“i think [first name] would be fine then.” they nod, like it’s an important decision.
“okay, [first name] it is, then. can i call you [first name]-chan, little listener?” hizashi says, starting to walk in the direction of their home. honestly, shota forgot that people use that honorific for children. he tries to avoid them in rescue missions; they’re uncomfortable around him, find him unnerving.
[first name] nods again. “mhm.”
“great! you can call me yamada-sen–” shota activates his quirk to tell him to shut up without actually telling him to shut up in front of the kid.
“no sensei honorific,” he mutters, thinking of the warehouse.
“you can call me yamada. that’s aizawa, kay?”
they nod again.
great, he’s training a child.
—
turns out they don’t need much training. the email from the quirk specialist explained that they could absorb energy and then manipulate its form, but it did not explain the frankly worrying level of precision they had.
they’re standing in the park, across the street from their hero-specialized apartment complex.
“i’m going to scream, kay? and you’re going to try to absorb it, and then we’ll see what you can do.” hizashi is still holding the kid’s hand, fifteen minutes after they’ve gotten back from the train station. shota is starting to worry that he’s getting attached. who is he kidding – of course hizashi is attached.
“aizawa will shut your quirk off if it’s too scary.”
they nod, already frowning in concentration. hizashi steps back and screams “HELLO!” at the lowest level possible. it still makes the grass ripple and the leaves on the trees shimmer. the kid just giggles, unphased, eyes glowing, and the grass and trees behind them are completely still, undisturbed. their control is disturbingly tight.
“again!” they shriek, relaying every bit of hizashi’s volume, and shota has a sickening thought about the types of bonding activities this kid had in that warehouse. training is playtime, to them.
all the pieces fall into place; the blacked out, confidential police reports, the inability to locate biological parents, the overpowered quirk, the ridiculous level of control for a child, sensei, the other children, the number six. quirk trafficking. all for one. collecting successors. his stomach turns.
he jerks back to the present as hizashi laughs and complies, yelling “HELLO!” again. shota can see the worry and caution seeping into his stance, though. they’ve been together long enough that he knows they’re both having the same thought, because hizashi isn’t stupid, and he’s seen every ugly little thing the world has to offer.
this time the kid doesn’t yell back, just holds out their hand. “wanna see what i can do?”
shota gets ready to activate his quirk, and hizashi nods.
their hand bursts into flame. shota’s hair flies up on reflex, a familiar burn in his eyes. the fire goes out, and a blast of light spirals off of their skin and dissipates into the air.
they all try several times more. [name] sends electricity crackling across their arms, drills a hole in the ground with a push of kinetic energy, makes their whole body glow with light, lifts a rock that no child should be able to lift. not once do they seem scared, not once do they hurt hizashi or break anything they don’t mean to.
they don’t need help managing their quirk. they need an outlet. (they need parents).
—
the years pass quickly; he and hizashi get teaching positions at UA, he expels and re-enrolls hundreds of students, works the streets at night. hizashi runs his radio show and works as a daylight hero and teaches english. they train [first name] every weekend, until the kid occupies the spare room at their house and the cats almost like them better than shota. [name] stays with their foster family during the week, and hizashi says he misses them, and shota wishes he could say different. (he doesn’t).
they watch the way they avoid going to their teachers when they need help, avoid going to their parents, and only ever come to them, shota and hizashi. shota thinks they have issues with trust, hizashi says they have issues with authority. shota worries about what that means they see their mentors as – authority figures they can trust. (it doesn’t worry him at all).
they crush exams and don’t talk to other kids, and hizashi and shota only know this because hizashi tries to make dinner table conversation about the kid’s classes and friends, and [name]’s answers are noncommittal, “i’m near the top of the class, okay?” and “i don’t really have any.” they proudly tell them that they punched someone in the face for bullying another kid. they ricochet wildly from sullen and silent to laughing obnoxiously loud. hizashi worries for their social development, shota tells him that they can’t go to parent teacher conferences, because they’re not the damn kid’s parents. (they are. [name]’s foster parents don’t go.)
they get sick after training some days, staying an extra day instead of traveling by train, just lying in bed while their quirk makes their whole body hurt,because it was cultivated for power, not for compatibility with the human body. hizashi calls their parents, who call the school, and he makes them tea with honey and lemon. shota sits in their room with them and the cats. the next day, after they leave, hizashi will say, “it’s just the weekends, but it feels like we’re raising them,” and shota will say, “we’re not.” (they are).
he teaches them how to use a capture weapon after they beg for months. they’re terrible at it. they keep trying. they get better, and they like heroes in black costumes and they listen to english music, and they want to be just like them, and they’re loud and sharp and sarcastic and competitive and sometimes quiet and kind, and it doesn’t make him cry into hizashi’s shoulder at night, it doesn’t. they don’t have a kid. they don’t. (they do).
—
they want to take the UA entrance exam, and shota wants to throw himself in front of a bus. he tells hizashi as much.
“shota, you can’t just expect them to be a civilian. they want to be a hero.” he’s doing his hair, yelling from the bathroom so shota can hear him from where he’s laying in bed, wondering how much longer he can stay there until he has to get up and go teach the brats.
“it’s dangerous, and they’re a kid, hizashi. kids always want to be heroes, it doesn’t mean they have to be.”
“first of all, they’re almost an adult, UA is a college. and even if you still think of them as a little kid, they have training, two mentors, and a burning desire to save the entire world. good luck stopping them. and it’s not like we haven’t been encouraging them for their entire life by giving them said training!”
“but it’s dangerous!” he sits up and slaps the quilt.
he hears hizashi sigh and sees him stick his head back into the bedroom. “they’re in too deep to stop unless they suddenly hate heroes. plus, we literally teach kids how to be heroes. you literally are a hero. you have no room to talk. none.”
“but those kids are–”
“less well-trained? not our kid?” hizashi raises an eyebrow as he cuts him off.
shota shuts his eyes and lays back down. “fuck.” he wants to go back to sleep. “they’re not our kid,” he adds, as an afterthought. it makes his stomach twist.
“sure,” says hizashi, and goes back to doing his hair.
—
“kid,” you hear aizawa say, and you look up from your homework. it’s a saturday.
“yeah?” he’s standing in the doorway, holding a flat, white box, like the kind fancy clothes come in.
aizawa shuffles in and sits on your bed. he pats the space next to him, “sit.”
you set down your pen and sit next to him, cross legged, in your pajamas, eyeing the box. he puts it on your lap and you lift the lid off; inside is a pile of black fabric, one long, thin strip, with threads of metal glinting in it.
“you’ll need it for the exam,” he says, and stands to leave.
you clutch the cool, heavy fabric to your chest, knowing it’s the ticket to your dream, your chance to prove yourself. “thank you.” thank you for believing in me.
“don’t mention it.” of course, kid.
reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!! ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* main taglist here,series taglisthere. back to gt&h masterpost.
Today, only one of the LMPD officers responsible for the death of Breonna Taylor was indicted on three counts of wanton endangerment. For firing into neighboring apartments. He is being held on a $15,000 bond. The other two officers are still employed by LMPD.
Today, Kentucky has confirmed that the life of Breonna Taylor did not matter.
Okay but the first set of gifs is not a joke like that’s literally how it goes.
One of the girls at work won’t get in the guy’s car unless he agrees to let her take photos of him and his license plate to text to her mother. If he gets mad or makes a fuss she cancels the date and goes back inside.
Reblogging for that
I’ve had someone take pics of me and my license plate on a first date before & I was okay with it. I’ve also had a friend allow me to view the tracking on her phone when she went to meet up with a guy the first time. This isn’t a joke at all & women have good reason to worry.
i have only ever met 2 people online, and made sure that we met up somewhere that was 1)public 2)close to my home.
After, I walked to the dollar store that was a couple shops down until I knew they were gone, before walking home.
Louis C.K. kind of nailed it. Men worry that their date won’t measure up to their aesthetic preferences. Women worry that they’re going wind up dead.
The disparity is RIDICULOUS, and the fact that dudes get offended when women try to protect themselves is hard proof that way too many guys Do Not Understand how dangerous it is to be a woman. (Not to mention it’s fucking insulting. “How dare you not trust your life and safety to a complete stranger whose intentions you have no way of knowing”?)
Lookin’ at the notes on this post following my earlier reblog and just going….
Wow. WOW. Look at all these sheltered people and their internalized misogyny.
The point isn’t, “NOT ALL MEN ARE OUT TO GET YOU.”
The point is, “WE HAVE NO WAY OF KNOWING A NICE GUY FROM A SERIAL KILLER.”
It’s not like they fucking wear nametags, okay? Moreover, the most awful people with the worst intentions often put on the nicest face or deliberately make themselves seem harmless and likeable, to lull potential victims into a false sense of security. (Read up on Ted Bundy sometime. It’s horrifying shit. Or read any thread on the “Let’s Not Meet” subreddit.)
In order to protect ourselves, we are forced to assume the worst of every man we meet, because statistically speaking, the biggest danger to women…IS MEN. Saying “not all men are out to get you, you’re just being paranoid” is like saying “not every car you ride in is going to crash, so buckling your seatbealt is stupid.”
When dealing with an unknown situation, in the absence of absolute proof of safety, exercising a little extra caution can be the difference between life and death. Shaming women for being what you may view as overly cautious is every bit as horrid as blaming them if something goes wrong later on.
And refusing to go to a secluded location with a complete stranger without letting someone know where you’re going, who you’re with, and how to find you is just common street sense, whether you’re on a date or just going out for business or social purposes.
If your life has been so sheltered (or your coping skills so incredible) that you see no need to distrust strangers or worry about the potential for violence, you should thank your lucky stars.
And you should also be aware that just because it hasn’t happened to you or anyone you know does not mean that it doesn’t happen.
Lemme say that louder for the people in the back.
Just because it hasn’t happened to you or anyone you know does not mean that it doesn’t happen.
Re-Reblog for relevant commentary.
And if you won’t take a woman’s word for it because you are some kind of asshat, men who sleep with men also mirror these rituals because even men are afraid of other men based on men’s behavior and inability to understand “no” or take rejection well.
I’ll stop reblogging this when it stops being relevant
Alllll of this. Being paranoid will often save your life. Assholes who say otherwise need to shut their noise holes and stop acting like they know better.
The level of evil it is to shoot a Palestinian journalist in the head, falsely claim you didn’t do it, and then send the military to attack her funeral, the mourners, and forcefully rip the Palestinian flag off her coffin. It’s monstrous.
ID: Tweet one by Yara Alafandi @/ AfandiYara reads: Israeli police forcing a Palestinian woman to take off her hijab because it’s the same colours as the Palestinian flag and you’re still arguing that Israel isn’t an apartheid state? #Shereen_Abu_Aqleh
Tweet two by disorientalist @/ princessmlokhia reads: Colonizers in Hebron took the collective Palestinian mourning for Shireen as a chance to sieze a new building in the city. Look at them, bold and pathetic. When we say Israel is a settler-colony we mean it in the most literal sense.
Forewarning. This will probably get rambly. Expect it. I’m tired as hell and I got shit I want to say. It might not be worded as poetically as you assholes want, but at this point I’m done caring.
Anyway.
You know. I love how exclusionists automatically assume just because, yeah, aspecs actually HAVE gone through some shit and we’ve been harmed for being associated with the queer community, that we’re trying to push the idea that it’s been to the same extent. Yeah. Most of the backlash against us from straight people has come from the thought that “not being het” = “gay”. You’re right there.
And we know. What we go through is not the same extent. A lot of times (though there are things, and I’ll get to that) it’s not just because we’re aspec. We’ve said that.
Hear me out here before you start squawking. And for the love of all that’s good left in the world, don’t start up with the slur thing. There’s a dozen other posts on that. You don’t want to be called it? Great. My bi ass will. Cause we fought for that shitty word when there wasn’t anything to call ourselves, and you’ll give it back to those bigots after you pry it from my cold, dead, fingers.
Anyway. There’s this thing that’s called “generalized prejudice”. AKA, the notion that bigotry can be generalized across similar groups. Anything with any suffix of sexual besides hetero is automatically Wrong and Gay and Unnatural and Dangerous. You’re not straight? You’re not normal.
Parents who would send their gay, bi, pan, and trans kids send their ace kids to conversation therapy as well. Corrective rape is a BIG thing. That it does happen shows that there’s something in the mindset. Due to this, aspecs are, in fact, harmed and submitted to violence.
I know for myself I certainly didn’t get the best reception when I told my family. Luckily it wasn’t violent for me, but you know that thing you guys do with the “I’m sure Christians love you”.
Yeah. No. Because, and I quote here “God made man for women, and expected them to be with each other. And in marriage be open to each other’s needs. If you can’t give that to someone you shouldn’t marry. Because that’d be a sin.”
(First off, asexuality doesn’t mean you can’t have sex, even though I personally don’t want to have it. It’s just a lack of attraction (not libido. That’s something else.) Second of all, thanks for letting me know not to tell you about the bi thing. Don’t worry. Not opening up about this shit again.)
And there are others who’ve gotten worse. You’re right. Mine wasn’t as bad as a lot of you get, but can we all just agree it really hurts and sucks to be told you’re shit for your sexuality? Can we all agree that attitudes like this tend to cause bigger, more violent problems? Especially as more people become aware of it being a thing? That this has been a big issue and fucked up a lot of people?
“You weren’t there like we were in the start. You don’t deserve to be here after all the shit we went through. It’s because they think you’re gay, like you said! It’s homophobia, not aphobia!”
First of all we were here. We just weren’t under our own name, because we didn’t have it. Pansexuals were here as well, and so were nonbianary people. Most of us, knowing we weren’t straight but only having a select number of things to align ourselves with, dispersed under other groups. Lots of us ended up under the bisexual umbrella. Hell. A lot of us still do before we realize this is a thing.
“Well, I don’t like the opposite gender. So maybe I’m gay?”
“Okay, I don’t seem interested in any, but that would mean…maybe I’m interested in others equally? Am I bisexual or pan?”
Like. Shit. Just the sheer amount of it happening today where the aspec identities ARE a thing that’s known should give a hint of how common it would be earlier when it WASN’T known. Plus, we know we were around, because we were described. Even by some prominent leaders in the community.
A few overall examples. From the article for those who don’t want to wade through it:
“The earliest use of the word ‘asexual’ which I have been able to find (up to now), is in a 1896 pamphlet called “Sappho und Sokrates” by Magnus Hirschfeld, an influential German sexologist and activist for LGBT emancipation.”
“Ralph Werther – Jennie June was an outspoken transgender person who wrote extensively about his life and the New York LGBT scene at the turn of the century. He uses the word ‘anaphrodite‘ to describe people who are “not suffused with adoration for any type of human” and who “shudder violently at the very thought of any kind of association grounded on sex differences”
“Researchers like Magnus Hirschfeld and Alfred Kinsey did notice and describe asexuality. It is rather remarkable that some of the most well-known sexologists make mention of asexuality, and yet we have been woefully understudied over the course of the last 150 years.”
“We are present in the works of LGBT pioneers like Magnus Hirschfeld and Ralph Werther – Jennie June (see above). It’s worth investigating how we fit into their circles: turn-of-the-century Berlin and New York. Then there are phenomena like the Boston marriages – relationships of which the main features are not just lesbian, but also asexual – and the description of asexuality as a subcategory of homosexuality in the 1978 study ‘Homosexualities’.”
We were there then. At the start. Right from the beginning. All of us who knew we weren’t straight, but didn’t have a name. Maybe we’d label ourselves as gay. Or bi. Or trans. But we were there, even if we weren’t properly labeled. We fought too. We fought alongside you and died alongside you, but we didn’t have a group to call our own. We were scattered and unseen. And because of this we don’t know a lot of our history, or figures in the movement who could be asexual. We may never know beyond speculation. But I assure you we were there.
Since then our community keeps growing. Why? If y'all really knew your history you’d know why, and you’d know just how much this community has evolved just in the past TEN years. Even less. History isn’t static. Growth happens. Change happens. It is happening. That’s not a bad thing.
Anyway, why?
Because these groups that were looked over or lumped into others are finding each other when before it wasn’t really possible like it is today, with the internet helping us connect. Because even if things aren’t as bad, there’s issues and as a community we’re striving towards equality and getting rid of violence towards non straight sexualities. This community was founded for resistance. For sanctuary. For solidarity against violence that we faced every day.
And this opening up has grown the community and our movement. It’s provided more voices to speak and more information to spread. We’ve had gatekeeping throughout our history, and every time it’s proved detrimental. To all of us. Gatekeeping in our community was why and is why many trans activists have taken longer to be recognized. Why bisexuals are still EXTREMELY underrepresented in this movement’s history.
Anyway, that article? There’s another for the 21st century. And a few more quotes to make my point, because anyone who knows me can tell you how much I love my quotes. Examples make it a lot easier to get my thoughts together. Very useful…
You say we should get our own community? We have. It still gets invaded, and we haven’t even had it long. Again. We hadn’t been able to.
“The time the first asexual communities appeared was around the start of this century. As the very beginning, you could take the article called “My Life as a Human Amoeba” by Zoe O’Reilly, which was published in 1997. Over the years, the comment section of that article filled with comments of other asexuals, telling their life stories and connection with eachother over their shared asexual experiences for – as far as we know – the very first time.2 From that article and its comment section, we have an extraordinary development into a self-assured, worldwide community that’s present on multiple online platforms as well as offline meeting groups. We are hosting conferences, marching in pride parades and we have successfully lobbied for the depathologization of asexuality in the DSM, one of the leading psychiatric manuals.3
The way we think and talk about asexuality has changed as well. Our identity and the concepts that come with it didn’t plop out of thin air. We come from a place where we had little to no concepts or words to describe our experiences. Aces have done some large-scale worthsmithing and we have come up with new words so we can name our experiences. On top of that we have created a lively discourse to make sense of ourselves and our experiences.4″
I do have to let out a chuckle at that last sentence.
“Oh, but what if they’re heterosexual aros or heteroromantic aces??? I don’t want our oppressors in this community!”
Tough shit. For many of us we’re already sharing a community with our oppressors.
Black women put up with all kinds of shit from white women. Especially when it came to queer feminists.
Transgender have to share a space with us cis people when, again, they got walked repeatedly over.
(TERFs, I’m not dealing with your shit today. Also, has anyone else noticed how many ace exclusionists are TERFs, and how many nonTERF exclusionists get uncomfortable when this gets pointed out? Yeah. I have too. And it’s bullshit.)
I, a woman, have to share a space with dudes. I, disabled, have to share a space with the abled who I’ve lived quite a bit of my life being looked down on from.
Anyone remember that “A stands for Ally” fiasco? I do. People were wanting straight allies over us. The excuse?
“Well, you see, that’s ACTUALLY there for closeted individuals to be in the community without outing themselves. ╮(╯▽╰)╭”
Sure. Okay. Yeah. Here’s where I found that funny. Even if the A didn’t stand for Ally, they could still say they’re allies and, should they be going to pride or something, say they’re supporting a friend. Or, if it’s so delicate, not say anything to anyone if they feel unsafe. Because it’s likely a family that’s bigoted towards the community would hate them giving their support as well.
“Well…they’re questioning! ╮(╯▽╰)╭”
Great. The Q is for questioning and queer.
“They’re taking our resources! (*´>д
What resources are in such limited supplies that you have to worry about this shit???????
Asexuals aren’t harming you. The only reason they’re “in the spotlight” is because you stir up all this shit and put them there.
“But here’s some aces being homophobic and gross and they’re all horrible people who somehow support pedophilia!
Here’s links to MORE being cringy and acting like they’re better and pure and shit!
IF WE LET THEM IN EVERYONE WHO’S ~~QUIRKY~~ WILL WANT IN TOO! KINKS AND FURRIES AND PEDOPHILES!!!! ヽ(｀Д´)ﾉ”
What. Even. The fuck. And yes. I heard this. More than once.
Addressing this in chunks:
Okay. Don’t know where that pedophile thing comes from. At all. I don’t understand it, and I kinda am scared to. I might lose my last shred of faith in humanity. I THINK, since I’ve heard this much at least, it has something to do with that:
“We can’t talk to kids about asexuality because then we’d have to talk to them about SEX. With the others we can just talk about the romantic aspect, but oh my goodness. The kids will be so messed up!”
Am I the only one seeing the irony in this? First off. A lot of kids can feel sexual attraction by the age of eight. Most by the age of ten to eleven. I’m twenty and I’m still getting that “well, maybe you’re a late bloomer” shit. I’m TWENTY. Almost TWENTY-ONE. Shit. If I realized this wasn’t normal sooner…well. That would have been really nice.
Homophobic: Most of what I see here are young teens and preteens screwing up their wording and getting attacked. Or relying on misinformation, because they’re young. But really. Many of you are grown adults. Stop attacking kids who clearly misspoke or are ignorant. Shit. Most of us have been there. Getting death threats in your ask doesn’t help.
And not everyone is nice. Yeah. There’s gonna be some shitty ace people. Just like there’s transphobic community members. And biphobic. And so on and so on and so on. Because sucky people exist everywhere. What a concept.
And no. That’s not comparable to that “gay people can be heterophobic” shit. Please. Stop. Aces are not straight. Heterophobia does not exist. And straight pride month should not be a thing. Did I get that covered? Great.
Also, the asexual community has a high percentage of autistics, myself included. You know what one common thing is with autistics? We tend to have trouble getting across our meanings. If you all could just ask “Hey, is this what you really meant by this? If so that’s kinda messed up. If not, can you explain?” that’d take out a whole lotta drama. Cause then we can go “Actually, no. I meant X. Let me make that more clear. Thanks for pointing that out to me!”
So much easier. So. So much easier.
Most of the other offensive shit seems to stem from tweens in their cringe phase (really. Most of us were there. Stop sending hate mail to ignorant middle schoolers), parody blogs, or, *gasp*, other exclusionists making fake blogs to purposefully stir up trouble. Geez. The sheer amount of those blogs. Find better things to do, damn it.
Then again. These are the same people who flood the Ace tag with dozens of hate posts about how shitty we are and how the community doesn’t want us, and do that:
“Boo hoo. Aren’t I so discriminatory? We get killed, bitch. Stop you’re whining. SOME of us have more to worry about then claiming to get bullied on Tumblr. Stop being a snowflake.”
It really shouldn’t be that surprising at this point. And yes, that too is something that’s almost word for word of another post. Because the discourse is shitty.
Okay. You see, kinks aren’t a sexuality. Pedophilia isn’t a sexuality and phedos actively pray on children and children can’t give consent, so they’re fucked up. Furries…yeah. Why? What logic would lead you to believe letting in asexuals is a gateway for furries?
Please. Stop. I’m tired. This month is supposed to be about celebrating our history and the people who fought to bring us where we are. Just for one month can we stop being petty assholes to each other? Just one month? I mean. I’d LOVE to say forever, but I realize that’s just not realistic.
A few last notes to cover my ass and make my thoughts clear about the normal shit storms that usually follow these kinds of posts.
First off. If one more person starts whining about “having their identity” used as a tactic by inclusionists, I’m gonna lose it. It’s not a cheap tactic. Inclusionists come from all backgrounds you assholes.
I’m not harboring some inner biphobia for connecting events from one part of my identity to another. The trans women inclusionist isn’t transphobic for talking about it. The lesbian inclusionist isn’t a “traitor” for pointing out how ridiculous you’re being. Stop being assholes. It’s not just your identity. It’s the identity of people on both sides and you need to stop trying to shit on people. Yeah, I spoke about more than just bisexual. Because I’m not the only one saying this. In fact, most of those points I got from others. Who were trans, and pan, and lesbians. I got followers who talk about it. It’s not just me talking here and they need to be respected for the points they’ve made as well.
Two. If I hear anyone talking about that ridiculous “corrective rape is a lesbian term” you’re going to get a real history lesson on its origins. Because you’re 100% wrong and I’m tired of uninformed bullshit.
I’m tired of this shitty discourse. Aspecs are not hurting you. Aspecs are not hurting you. Aspecs are not hurting you. Inclusion does not harm the community. Inclusion does give resources to kids who could be in harmful situations.
For one month. Just take a break from being hateful assholes. One month. Just…just one freaking month.
Anyway. Happy pride.
To my lesbians. Your flag looks great. Sorry Tumblr staff forgot you guys. There also isn’t much on Google. Tried to find some variety. :(
To my gay bros. Remember the meaning your colors represent.
To all you pans. Keep being punny, and spread the love. You’re all great.
To my trans friends. Don’t let the TERFs get you down. Trans women are women. Trans men are men. You are not predators. You are not dangerous. You are fully yourself.
To my bi peeps. We’re amazing. You’re not “half straight” or “Half gay”. Doesn’t matter if you’re in a same or opposite sex relationship. You’re still full on bi. Don’t take shit.
To my aces. You’re not straight. You’re not broken. You’re not less. You are always welcome. Exclusionists on Tumblr do not represent the wider belief.
To my aros, I’m sorry people forget about you so much. And remember that there’s many different types of love. You’re not gross for not feeling romantic love. You’re not cold. You’re not predatory for those of you wanting sexual relationships without romance.
For those who are both aro and ace, you’re not devoid of emotion. You’re not subhuman. You’re individuals and love can be expressed in so many ways. If you’re in the grey area, that’s fine too.
I love all of you. I couldn’t really find much for nonbianary and genderfluid, but you all rock as well.
We are a community, and we need to hold each other up if we want to continue moving forward. Division hurts us all.
Also, for my friends who are also black, muslim, disabled, female, Native American, Hispanic and in other groups that are struggling with additional fear this year with all the shit going on. Keep your head up. Keep fighting.
Holy shit @shadowkat678, I officially dub this the most awesome and prideful pride 2017 post I’ve seen yet!! What an amazing and well written journey, thank you so much.
Everyone, please signal boost this far and wide!!
I just wanna add that as I was reading this I was literally chatting with OP and sending them my thoughts and opinions about nearly each paragraph. It was a serious emotional journey because I can identify with almost all of it. However, I don’t have it in me to repeat all those thoughts and I don’t think you all wanna read it anyway bc this is a long enough post as it is.
But as a phd student and criminologist (& cis, panromantic, demisexual), I would like to just provide a short-ish quote that explains fairly well how “generalized prejudice” works, and does in fact lead to aphobia:
Our findings are in keeping with Herek’s (2010) “differences as deficits” model of sexual orientation, where sexual minorities deviating from the norm are considered substandard and deserving of negativity by the majority. This model is gradually becoming less applicable to homosexuals and bisexuals with changes in societal norms (Herek, 2010), consistent with our findings that homosexuals (and in some cases bisexuals) were viewed as equally or more human than the heterosexual ingroup. However, we posit that asexuals fit well within the “differences as deficits” framework. Asexuals are the sexual minority that is most clearly considered “deficient” by heterosexuals. In keeping with this interpretation, themes relevant to maintaining the status quo and group dominance (RWA and SDO, respectively) proved consistently important in predicting antiasexual attitudes, whereas concerns with positive ingroup identity and religious fundamentalism were less uniquely important.
Although antiasexual bias is a clear component of sexual minority prejudice, it is also unique in that it was repeatedly stronger than bias toward other sexual minorities. Most disturbingly, asexuals are viewed as less human, especially lacking in terms of human nature. This confirms that sexual desire is considered a key component of human nature, and those lacking it are viewed as relatively deficient, less human, and disliked. It appears that asexuals do not “fit” the typical definition of human and as such are viewed as less human or even nonhuman, rendering them an extreme sexual orientation outgroup and very strong targets of bias. Future research can address the mechanisms underlying this tendency. [emphasis mine]
And while this study definitely has its problems (e.g., it compares asexuality & sapiosexuality and defines asexuality wrong, which i argue is more evidence of anti-ace bias bc society and those studying us can’t even get a handle on “what” we are…) it’s still important bc it shows us that there is in FACT a systematically enforced anti-ace bias. Bc if it wasn’t systemic it wouldn’t be an identifiable & measurable social pattern!!!
Plus, ppl willing to discriminate is literally a large part of how discrimination and oppression work. When people literally say how and why they would hypothetically discriminate against a whole category of “different” people, you need to take that clearly stated BIGOTRY seriously and stop talking down to & over us, and telling us to just shut up about it.
this stuff is harrasment/ bullying, if you do this you are breaking the law in quiet a few countries and breaking tumblr rules of service, not only is it uncalled for and disgusting you are commiting a crime/breaking terms and conditions
if you see ANYONE (gay,straight,trans cis,black,white doesn’t matter) telling ANYONE to go die report it Immediately because it is crossing a line
^^^^^^^
This shit is absolutely disgusting. What sorry excuses of human beings willingly go out of their way to harass people because of their sexuality…….oh wait
And it’s still not over either. Check out some of this new and truly disgusting aphobic bullshit:
Apparently, being against telling ANYONE to go die or kill themselves is being pro-terf… (ughhhhh!!! i’m also against the death penalty, does that make me a super terf then?!?! like honestly, go read a book)
Oh and this:
So, hearing about the corrective rape experiences of aces is “annoying” bc “aces aren’t lgbt” according to the above aphobe, and so we all just need to shut up about it. JOY
Maybe the above is not a death threat or anything like that, but dehumanization like this is the exact type of shit that rationalizes and reinforces all this aphobic violence.
And of course, here’s more aphobic hell (including racism & more death/suicide baiting):
What “exactly” is it that we have supposedly collectively done to deserve this kind of seething, violent hate?!?!?!???? Read those tags on the last one, it’s the things of nightmares!!
But yeah, no, of course,
I mean, it’s not as if wishing to deny us aspecs our right to life (often in very violent ways) just because we’re aspec isn’t invalidating in any way…. /s
Aaaaand here’s some new stuff:
damn wtf did aces do to these people?! why so much hate towars em
The level of evil it is to shoot a Palestinian journalist in the head, falsely claim you didn’t do it, and then send the military to attack her funeral, the mourners, and forcefully rip the Palestinian flag off her coffin. It’s monstrous.
ID: Tweet one by Yara Alafandi @/ AfandiYara reads: Israeli police forcing a Palestinian woman to take off her hijab because it’s the same colours as the Palestinian flag and you’re still arguing that Israel isn’t an apartheid state? #Shereen_Abu_Aqleh
Tweet two by disorientalist @/ princessmlokhia reads: Colonizers in Hebron took the collective Palestinian mourning for Shireen as a chance to sieze a new building in the city. Look at them, bold and pathetic. When we say Israel is a settler-colony we mean it in the most literal sense.
