I was reading this article about how much work and heart hiromu arakawa put into writing fullmetal alchemist and Silver spoon and I’m honestly so impressed???
-she talked with war veterans and people with disabilities to accurately depict characters with those backgrounds
-she also researched military corruption extensively
-she fought to bring in more female characters with her editors who opposed it
-she has told her readers that there is no shame in leaving an emotionally toxic situation and you should never feel guilty for it
-she based the situation with the ishvalan people off of a real displaced indigenous group called the ainu people in hokkaido to raise awareness of their situation
-she criticizes the notion of self sacrifice being a noble thing especially since it’s such a prevalent theme in most shonen manga
-she worked on a farm with a lot of hardworking women and wanted her work to reflect just how complex real women can be rather than overdone anime stereotypes
-she has stated that she thinks there is value in not repressing anger in the face of injustice, and she thinks it’s good to use that anger in constructive ways
-she has emphasized in her story that you don’t always have to forgive the people who hurt you
-she worked on and alongside several other manga one shots, illustrations, character designs, anime adaptions, movie adaptions, and light novels all while having three kids over the course of her career
I don’t even think this is everything I read but hiromu arakawa is a goddamn badass
SO HERE’S MY PASSOVER FIC. I feel strange about it, it’s a little more close to the ribs than I usually do, which is why I’m publishing it in the middle of the night. I do want to hear if you like it. A lot of me went into it.
ANYWAY 3,500 ish words on Angela and Passover! And the past! and how it defines our future! And the confusing constant internal debate of every aspect of being Jewish! Fun times! Chag Samech Motherfuckers!
The Hebrews doubted that Moses could lead them to the promised land, and Mercy understood.
Wandering, wandering. So much of Mercy’s life, she felt, had been spent wandering. And wandering in pursuit of what? Not only was she unsure she was wandering to the promised land, she was unsure, anymore, that she would ever knew what that looked like. How to explain, to people who did not know, the long march of a people surviving where they weren’t meant to.
It had been years since she had a proper Seder.
She looked down the table at her expectant team, her team that had become family, that loved her so that they insisted upon helping her hold a Seder.
She had tried to offer up excuses.
“I am out of practice, it has been so long, I will be having the hardest time explaining it.”
“We will help you. I only want to learn what is important to you, and I know this is,” Pharah had comforted, “And you will teach us. It will be wonderful.”
“Besides,” Dva had quipped, “we’re not gonna know if it’s wrong anyway.”
“I like ‘earing about your ‘olidays, Ang. Always ‘ave, much more personal that way, and everyone’s always on about ‘ow we need to ‘ave a wide cultural knowledge, aren’t they?” Tracer had grinned happily, leaning on the table.
Winston had simply smiled and nodded reassuringly.
Rhio's Tunglr Stuff 