First day of classes and my uni’s portal is down for students and faculty which meant that while I was waiting for my first class of the day to start:
Multiple people came in asking which class we were (romanticism)
Most of them—like 8 of the 10 people—were looking for a French class
A professor (not the one for my romanticism class or the supposed French class) came in to use the computer in the class room to try to find out which room she was supposed to be teaching a class in
One of the students for that prof’s class was just waiting in our room because they also didn’t know where to go and so was just sticking with her prof
While that prof was getting help from a student (from my class) she was ranting to us about her day and how the uni doesn’t have enough parking so she’s parked illegally and will probably get a ticket for it
I don’t even think she ever found which room she was suppose to teach in. She just left when our actual prof arrived
Anyways I hope she’s had a better day and found her class
About every week I am expected to do the dishes, as we don’t have a dishwasher, and, even if we did, I would not trust it. My sister calls me a germaphobe, but I simply prefer to know that my dishes are clean by washing them by hand. Or rather, I like to know that they aren’t clean because of my failings and not the failings of a dishwasher. Regardless of that, washing the dishes is a long, calming, and boring task. So whenever it is my turn to do the dishes I put on my headphones, roll up my sleeves, and listen to music while looking out the window.
There are four stages of doing the dishes. The first is to put away any dishes which may be remaining in the drying rack. This stage is often forgotten until you have washed the first dish and realize that there are a bunch of clean dishes cluttering up the drying rack.
The second stage is to move the dirty dishes out of the sink so that you can fill the sink with soapy-sudsy-bubbly water which you can then proceed to immerse the dirty dishes in. It is important that you move them out of the sink beforehand, however, as there may be large pieces of leftover food which were careless tossed into the sink.
The third stage is when you actually wash the dishes. I prefer to wash them by category, starting with the plates, then the bowls, and so forth. This is the longest and most routine stage, which means it is easy to fall into an autopilot mode where you don’t pay attention to if the dish you are washing is fully clean. It is also important in this stage to remember dishes which usually sit out around the counter. For example, butter knives are often left to rot by the butter tray until someone is finally so disgusted with it that they toss it in with the rest of the dirty dishes which are likely in a pile nearing the ceiling at this point.
The fourth stage is the most often forgotten stage: wiping down the sink and surrounding counter area and floor. It is highly likely that, while you were diligently washing dishes, you splashed some dirty dish water onto the counter or the floor. As such, it is your duty to clean it up as well. If you really want to prove yourself to be an overachieving clean-freak, as I most enjoy, then you will also take care to wipe down the other kitchen surfaces, such as the stove top.
Now that you’ve finally finished washing the dishes you can relax and not do any other household chores because you’ve paid your dues. A great way to relax after washing dishes in steaming hot water is to take a peaceful shower, also in steaming hot water — if you stay in long enough the rest of your body will become as wrinkled as the raisins your hands have turned into!
Note: I’m not really sure why this got more passive aggressive as it went on but... yea, it did. Anyways hope you liked it. ~Nalla
About 80% of the world has superpowers called quirks. When they first appeared it was frightening and if your quirk wasn't flashy like a superheroes' then you were shunned and excluded because people didn't know how to treat you. Now that most people have quirks though, it's reversed. If you don't have one then you're a freak, lame, useless.
The first quirks appeared in Asia and then spread to the rest of the world from there. At first people thought it was a result of human experimentation but after they appeared in the rest of the world most people just assumed it was evolution, although some still argue that its the work of a huge secret society or something.
Either way, quirks are now extremely common in America. At first people were strictly forbidden from using them in public, which became problematic because there were many private schools and businesses advertising that they were quirk-friendly and encouraged people to use their quirks. With lots of legal work and many laws that were passed private schools can now teach children about quirks and let students use their quirks in classes as long as they have a license and have DQHC officers on site. DQHC stands for the Department of Quirks' Handling and Control. They enforce laws involving quirks and are involved in every business or school which allows the use of quirks. Every quirk agency is required to have at least a few DQHC officers and even foreign embassies have them to make sure there are no abuses overseas.
Now, I am Katerina Dietrich, a sophomore in high school, and I attend a private academy where we learn how to use our quirks. It's a K-12 school and I've been going here since I was in 4th grade. It's called Flying Eagles Academy. I know, it's kind of weird, but apparently the son of the person who bought the school and turned it into a quirk-allowed school was half human half eagle. Naturally then hit school mascot is an eagle. Really unique isn't it?
Anyways, k-6 kids get to use their quirks in gym class and during recess on Tuesdays and Thursdays. In addition to the usual fitness testing they have quirk assessments where they test to see how well the student can control their quirk and how strong it is. They also have quirk education classes where they teach kids about the origin of quirks, proper quirk etiquette, and about quirk laws.
Once you are in 7th grade you get to have combat classes, although you don't get to fight anybody else with your quirk until you are a freshman. You learn basic self-defense and martial arts in 6-8th grades and you start sparring with people in 7th grade. 8th graders get to meet with some local heroes twice a year to practice quirk-combat with a professional. He main purpose of this is to show them how good professionals are and to make them think of ways they can use their quirk to fight. For those who don't want to be heroes though, they bring in other professionals that can help give insight as to how they can use their quirk in their work.
Freshman year is the big year because it's when you can fight against others with your quirk. There is an old football field out back where we go to fight when it's warm enough and in the winter we fight in the arena. The arena is an old gym which was remodeled to be able to withstand destructive battles. Of course it's been smashed up on multiple occasions, but for the most part it doesn't get too damaged.
Now, my quirk is very... villainous. What I mean is it would be very easy for me to become a villain because of my quirk. My quirk Hemomancy, allows me to control blood. I can freely control my own blood but in order to control someone else's blood I have to first ingest some of it. Because of how creepy and frightening my quirk is people tend to avoid me, however at this point I have my own group of friends who accept me and my quirk.
Despite my quirk and the fact that I am in the hero program at Flying Eagles Academy, I don't actually plan on becoming a hero. I plan on becoming a doctor. In addition to being in the hero program, I am also in their Medical Support Program. It's just a sub-section of the general program so it's relatively small, but it's well funded despite that, probably because wealthy doctors who graduated from here donate back to the Medical Support Program.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hey, this is just the prologue of a little idea I had. AJH (American Junior Heroes) is basically just about how America has been handling the rise of quirks and such since Horikoshi doesn't really talk about it much, from what I've read so far anyways. This is just a little introduction and the main narrative will start next time but yea.
Oh, btw Katerina is a year older than Deku and all in case you were wondering where it fits into the main story. Also, my idea is that UA is the leading hero high school in the world, but America has the leading hero college in the world. So the majority of the characters in my story will be aware of the things happening in MHA and will reference them and stuff. I'll try to put a spoiler warning at the beginning if needed.
Start your story with a sentence that is genuinely happy and upbeat, no double meanings. End it with the same sentence, but this time it’s chilling, dark, horrifying etc.
The question I get the most is how I write characters that feel like real people.Â
Generally when I’m designing a human being, I deconstruct them into 7 major categories:
1. Primary Drive
2. Fear: Major and Secondary
3. Physical Desires
4. Style of self expression
5. How they express affection
6. What controls them (what they are weak for)
7. What part of them will change.
1. Primary Drive: This is generally related to the plot. What are their plot related goals? How are they pulling the plot forward? how do they make decisions? What do they think they’re doing and how do they justify doing it.
2. Fear: First, what is their deep fear? Abandonment? being consumed by power? etc. Second: tiny fears. Spiders. someone licking their neck. Small things that bother them. At least 4.
3. Physical desires. How they feel about touch. What is their perceived sexual/romantic orientation. Do their physical desires match up with their psychological desires.
4. Style of self expression: How they talk. Are they shy? Do they like to joke around and if so, how? Are they anxious or confident internally and how do they express that externally. What do words mean to them? More or less than actions? Does their socioeconomic background affect the way they present themselves socially?Â
5. How they express affection:Â Do they express affection through actions or words. Is expressing affection easy for them or not. How quickly do they open up to someone they like. Does their affection match up with their physical desires. how does the way they show their friends that they love them differ from how they show a potential love interest that they love them. is affection something they struggle with?
6. What controls them (what they are weak for): what are they almost entirely helpless against. What is something that influences them regardless of their own moral code. What– if driven to the end of the wire— would they reject sacrificing. What/who would they cut off their own finger for.  What would they kill for, if pushed. What makes them want to curl up and never go outside again from pain. What makes them sink to their knees from weakness or relief. What would make them weep tears of joy regardless where they were and who they were in front of.Â
7. WHAT PART OF THEM WILL CHANGE: people develop over time. At least two of the above six categories will be altered by the storyline–either to an extreme or whittled down to nothing. When a person experiences trauma, their primary fear may change, or how they express affection may change, etc. By the time your book is over, they should have developed. And its important to decide which parts of them will be the ones that slowly get altered so you can work on monitoring it as you write. making it congruent with the plot instead of just a reaction to the plot.Â
That’s it.
But most of all, you have to treat this like you’re developing a human being. Not a “character” a living breathing person. When you talk, you use their voice. If you want them to say something and it doesn’t seem like (based on the seven characteristics above) that they would say it, what would they say instead?
If they must do something that’s forced by the plot, that they wouldn’t do based on their seven options, they can still do the thing, but how would they feel internally about doing it?
How do their seven characteristics meet/ meld with someone else’s seven and how will they change each other?
Once you can come up with all the answers to all of these questions, you begin to know your character like you’d know one of your friends. When you can place them in any AU and know how they would react.
I sometimes wonder why I even bother trying to leave this box of mine. This box which has become the entirety of my reality, but then someone comes in from the outer lands and reminds me. They remind me of all the wonderful things I have yet to love, hate, criticize, and create.Â
Something so desperate. Something you can’t help but cling to... How do you escape it? Its always there, in the back of your mind, creeping towards you in the darkness. Why do you wish for it so desperately when you know its impossible? When you know that you don’t even want it... If a sole-desire, something you wished for with your entire being could exist, would it come true simply because it was wished for so fervently? Would the mere act of wishing and hoping make it real? The world would tell you no, and in a way they’re right. They are right as long as they assume that magic died a long time ago, and even then there is a chance they are wrong. For if magic existed long ago, then surely someone now could rediscover that which so many yearn for. And, what if that wish, that sole-desire in itself is magic? What if magic is simply the result of wishing for something so desperately that a force within ourselves, a force hidden deep within everyone, awakens and makes that wish true? If so, the issue to be found is not how to use and harness magic, but how to create a desire so singular and desperate that it consumes a person and becomes their entirety. But then, is it even worth it? If you must forget everything about yourself to attain that wish, is it worth it? How much can one wish achieve compared to one person? One person who wishes for many things, who strives to change their world, one person the step up and make magic themselves. If the human mind can create the concept of magic, then what stops us from creating real magic? Our own definition. People define magic as a force in the world or an impossible feat or act, but that definition only came from other people imposing their own idea of magic upon the world. Isn’t that wish in itself magic just by the very fact that we can want something? Merely by the fact that we can feel a desperate attraction to something is proof that magic exists and is used everyday by people everywhere. That wish is a force within the universe itself and it pushes people to strive further and further until that wish is achieved, but once it is fulfilled there is not a husk of a person left. Instead a wish must only be an ounce, a small desire, not a consuming, desperate wish. So that when that wish is finally fulfilled the person can continue on and pursue a new wish.Â
“There is truth in the world. There is truth in everything, sometimes its just hard to find. Even hypocrites tell a story with truth in it. Even liars who are rumored to never tell the truth are honest sometimes. People don’t always realize it, but by lying they are telling the truth about their motives and intents. When someone lies about disobeying the rules, that lie is them honestly saying that they don’t want the higher authority to know about it. Honesty is in everyone, so it is more honorable to tell the truth shamelessly, look your actions in the face and admit that you did them.” The young girl was saying to her dying grandmother. “For always being honest and not hiding that honesty is scarier than being the best liar in the world because people know that no matter what you say, no matter how horrible, how terrible, no matter how happy, how joyous, you’ll be telling the truth. Truth is the scariest thing in the world because truth is reality and reality is man’s greatest enemy.” The grandma looked up at her granddaughter, struggling to breathe. “My dear girl, you’re too smart for your own good. Please, tell me: Do you think I will live to see tomorrow?” The grandma said, knowing the answer and know that the young girl wouldn’t lie. “Look into my eyes grandma. These are the eyes that will see tomorrow for you.” Those eyes, tomorrow, were the last thing she ever saw, and the young girl had never wept more in her entire life.Â
You’re just walking around outside, passing by a couple of people- a normal day. You round the corner and start walking up the steps to go into your house, but there it is again. Out of the corner of your eye you see that shadow. That figure just waiting for you to look away so that they can approach you, unnoticed. The pitter-patter you hear in the night. That slight breeze which stirs you from your sleep and makes the hair on the back of you neck stand on end. Its watching you. It always has. It always will. But why does it try so desperately to get close to you. you ask? That’s simple. When you’re not looking at it, it grows. It surrounds you and slowly starts to eat away at you, watching your every move. learning your strengths and weaknesses. Its preparing to devour you until there’s nothing left. Your worse enemy and yet, it is also your strongest ally. It denies to let anything else, anyone else, destroy you, for its so greedy, such a glutton that it will only allow itself to devour you. Piece by piece it will feast. First with your head, then it will eat your legs so you can’t escape. Then it will proceed to chew off your arms as you attempt to fight back. Finally it will rip open your chest, break all of your bones and swallow your heart whole. It will drink all of your blood, lapping it up like a dog, and then there will be nothing left. It would be as though you never existed, but for now, it merely waits, only to be seen out of the corner of your eye.Â
Okay, so this story is based off of this picture by @aquarelledreams! The picture is taken right in front of the narrator so you can see what the narrator sees. Without further ado, lets get to the story!
    It was a cold, but peaceful day out in the country. Snow was falling, drifting through the air in silent elegance. There was a fluffy layer of snow on the railing of the porch, and the columns of the pavilion already had a thick layer of frost covering them. I looked at the bushes, standing firm in the wind, and the leaves struggling to stay up with the heavy burden of snowflakes resting atop them.                                                     I lifted my hand up and caught a snowflake on my finger, and somehow, magically, the snowflake didn’t melt. I peered deep into the structure of the snowflake, admiring the intricacy and simplicity of it. From the outside edges the snowflake began to dissolve, crawling towards the center until it was gone. It was sad how something so beautiful and precious could be gone in seconds, just like life. I picked up my pencil and began sketching each snowflake I saw until I had one page left in my journal. I began drawing, not really paying attention to what I was drawing, for I was too busy thinking. I was thinking of a peaceful artist drawing each and every snowflake by hand. Sculpting every branch and root that comes from the flake. Dropping them down into the world and watching them float down to join their friends. I finally looked at my drawing. The pavilion, the bushes, and my friends, the snowflakes, all drawn into my picture. I looked into the sky and imagined a peaceful painting, coloring in the world, with the sky for a palette and rainbows for paint.Â
