Okay but… what about a Fullmetal alchemist Eren and Mikasa Au? Where Mikasa is the fullmetal alchemist who transmuted her adoptive brothers body in a metal suit of armor when they were children. And Eren is the lovable suit of armor that has no body. Like, has no really thought of this before?
@anon also: my advice is don’t worry too much about armor skins yet! You’re still leveling up, so you’re going to be picking up a lot of new gear, and it’s just going to be a lot of hassle trying to stay on top of transmuting your armor amongst all that. Feel free to PLAN outfits, though, and unlock as many skins as you can on your way up the ladder!
running around in level-up-armor is also REALLY good for figuring out what kind of fashion sense or silhouette you want your characters to have. For instance, I had no idea how I was going to dress Nico when I first made him, but I realized quickly how much i liked long flowing coats on him thanks to the starting Apprentice leggings and the Dry Bones leggings later on.
As befitting their status as the “cooler older generation” of Natsume (and for added angst) they of course participated in the Ishbal war.
Shuuichi is known as the Paper Alchemist because he can do probably literally anything with the stuff. He and Roy saw action together a few times, and were widely acknowledged as being a pair you do not want to mess with – Shuuichi’s papercraft adding fuel to Roy’s fires. Not that they usually needed the help, but they were especially brutal with it.
Seiji is known as the Farseeing Alchemist based on his reputation for being able to strike a distant target as accurately as any top marksman (though his weapons of choice are usually alchemical), his keen strategic mind, and this one incident during training where, irritated at his companions’ bickering over the identity of an object in the distance, he transmuted a small hand telescope and pointedly told them to just take a look for themselves and shut up.
Giovanni Agostino Pantheo - Transmutation Circle with first eight Letters of the Roman Alphabet around its Circumference, “Ars et Theoria Transmutationis Metallicae” (Art of Metallic Transmutation), 1519.
Black Women Are Never Priority: N.W.A, the Politics of Misogyny and My Battered Body
Wrestling with the past is painful. If we were to try to write every
figure who committed despicable acts out of our histories, there would
be no one left to revere. So it seems easier not to reckon with the
violence that shapes our world—that shapes our thought.
But we never escape it. Whether it be the outgrowth of white supremacy,
imperialism, homophobia, or misogyny, that violence transmutes
everything it touches. It taints our being.
One of the most discomforting truths about living as a Black woman is
that there is no safety from said violence. Those who continue to profit
from it spread the lie that being “good” offers protection. It’s the
kind of falsehood people like 46-year-old Ice Cube perpetuate when they speak of “bitches,” “hoes,” “despicable females,” and “upstanding ladies.”
Living in this body has taught me that there’s no use in jockeying for a
position in the lauded latter category, because I will become a
“bitch,” a “hoe,” or a “despicable female” as soon as someone decides
they want to commit violence against me. The misogynists move the goal
posts at will and effectively trap women on the hamster wheel of
respectability. I discontinued that pursuit as soon as I realized that
it is never “us” versus “them.” I am always them, and they are me.
This reality is why I prefer to speak about the violence I’ve
experienced abstractly. I’ll admit that referring to “systems” and
“structures” is often more comfortable. It allows me to avoid and
suppress painful memories, but this, too, is a false protection.
After this piece
on Dr. Dre’s history of beating women went viral, I’m more clearly
seeing the failure of the duck and dodge. What we must confront directly
is a status quo that accepts physical and verbal violence against Black
women as mere inconveniences and excuses them as distractions from the real legacy.
We allow and encourage abusers of Black women to thrive, yet somehow the
conversation turns to the spoiling of nostalgia or stripping of earned
success. Here, again, we come back to an old story: a Black man’s
triumph is more important than a Black woman’s body.
The consideration of anyone’s cultural import and influence cannot be
done piecemeal, and those of us who desire real and meaningful
acknowledgement of harmful words and deeds are not betraying our
Misogyny is political. We cannot discuss the revolutionary politics of
N.W.A., for example, without mentioning another clearly and dangerously
articulated stance chosen by the group and its members. While it is
correct to note N.W.A.’s role in giving voice to urban frustrations, it
is also correct to consider their role in perpetuating virulent hatred
of women—the kind that puts all women at risk everyday. We can’t ignore
it because it doesn’t fit the narrative. Misogyny kills, and it is not accidental. It is always a choice.
Both Dr. Dre and Ice Cube are now middle-aged men who have had notable
careers in entertainment since the group’s split, but trying to explain
away their verbal and physical violence towards Black women as typical
transgressions of youth is insufficient. Though we must allow people
space to evolve, we cannot conflate aging with growth. The trouble is
there are few real consequences for unmitigated misogyny. Ice Cube can
still call women “bitches” and “hoes”and Dre can still produce woman-hating music. Their legacies will not suffer.
One must be invested in dismantling a culture that normalizes violence
against Black women before we talk about reconciliation. We’ve yet to
see that from these men, and unless they’re going to do this work, linking the group to #BlackLivesMatter
is an affront to the movement’s intersectional foundations. The current
fight for Black liberation is for all of us—not just men.
Most telling in the push-back to conversations about misogyny and N.W.A.
are the ways that Black women become unmourned casualties. In the age
of #BlackLivesMatter, we see how violence breaks down communities. All
violence is connected, and a refusal to take violence against Black
women seriously—whether perpetrated by the State or otherwise—pushes us
outside of the communities we work for and live in.
That is why some of us are opting not to see or support the film. And
truthfully, it’s unsurprising that our choice is taken as a personal
attack by Straight Outta Compton’s evangelists. Black folks still see our destiny linked to the fate of Black men while Black women are deemed non-essential.
I don’t excuse it, but I understand. I’ve protected and enabled abusers
even as they victimized me. I feared for my safety and never told
anyone. Embarrassment consumed me. I chose him, and I should’ve known better, I thought.
I’m a Black woman intimately familiar with the Black feminist and
womanist canons. That did not stop me from taking responsibility for the
actions of a volatile and violent man. When that man was arrested for
attempting to solicit someone to kill the woman he began dating shortly
after we split, I was not surprised. And, somehow, I still felt
I’ll admit it is personally hurtful as someone who has experienced all
manner of sexist violence to see others who consider themselves to be
“progressive” brush it aside, but most of our relationships to popular
culture are complicated. Frommost reports, Straight Outta Compton
is a wonderfully made film. This particular critique does not negate,
completely, the efforts of those who helped to create and produce the
Black women deserve to be and feel safe. Refusing to challenge our
degradation only fuels cycles of violence. We should not have to worry
we may be implicating Black men when talking about our hurt. We need not
be silent to aid your guilt-free consumption.