#Bustin' ass for equality all day

[backwards-blackbird]

A well-earned rest. 🚬

[shuckinbeanz]

The King's Hand

warnings/notes: sfw(Fades to black, poor guards LOL), medieval!au, SHAMELESS ex-mercenary!gn reader, quirks are magic powers, reader is stronk and has perpetual baby fever and is NOT shy ab it, King!DabixMonarch!reader, one of ya'll is pumping out kids(so many that even Dabi is overwhelmed 😂 but the amount of kids is kept ambiguous for reader's imagination), and there is one line that hints at a tidbit of reader's backstory(which is basically in the title) but it isn't further explained beyond that for reader's imagination. P/N means parent name aka Mom, Dad, Parent, etc.

im bustin out short fics tonight huzzah 💅

~Masterlist~

MINORS 👏 DNI! 👏 AGE 👏 IN 👏 BIO 👏 OR 👏 DNI! 👏 Head on over to @candybowbeansies please for my SFW pieces, or be blocked if you interact here! 😇

Tags: @dynamightsdaydream

Being a monarch had its perks, including supporting the gaggle of kids talking over eachother in your study. Having more wouldn't hurt; maybe you could finally convince your husband tonight.

You weren't as much of a paper pusher as he was, often opting to oversee things in person. He inherited his mother's frailty, and his father's firepower-both did not mix well, often causing his own magics to harm him. But still, you loved him to bits, and your robustness proved useful in those times where needed.

"P/N!!" one of them hollers over the others in upset, calling you as you began to reminisce, snapping you out of it before you could reach even the first memory.

"They're going on about how you and Dad met! I say to ask you but they wanna keep making it all up!"

"Nuh-uh!" a rebellious chorus sounded behind the first. You guffaw and they fall silent, expectant of your answer. Just like them to pick up on things.

"I dueled the old grump for your father's hand in marriage. Whooped his ass a right way, too. Still dislikes me to this day, but while he was a tyrant, he's a man of his word." you tell them, refering to their paternal grandfather, whom they knew all too well, for they had long since weaseled their way into his heart with stubborn fervor.

The mercenary in you senses familiar footsteps approach, a devilish grin gracing your features. "How would you lot feel about being older siblings?" you ask them, and they uproarously express their desire for younger siblings. "Then go ask your father." you tell them; and on cue, he opens the door, his 'not again' drowned out by rambunctious pleas.

But he was still a King, commanding respect.

"Silence!" he belts out, his adam's apple gently glowing blue as it bobs with both syllables, barely there tendrils of black smoke drifting from his lips. The children, ever obedient, immediately hush up-yet they all peered up at him pleadingly with the cutest puppy eyes they each could muster.

Yet he was still a man; a father.

After several ticking moments, he sighs deeply, expelling the rest of the smoke. "I will speak to your P/N." he concedes, his voice an ever so slight rasp, "No. Promises. Now, shoo." he waves his hand, and they bustle down the hallway noisily, no doubt off to annoy their grandfather.

Bright turquoise hues land on you, unimpressed. "You do know that we have the most children in the whole continent, correct?" he speaks pointedly, approaching your desk. You shrug, playing busy. "We make enough for at least twice our current amount." you snipe back.

It was true, the palace's coffers were overflowing.

"You are incorrigible." he says, planting his palms on your desk. No room for argument. "Nope." comes your retort, equally as stubborn if not moreso, rising to plant your knee on your desk, reports be damned. "I want your babies." you tell him bluntly, without an ounce of shame.

A short bark of a laugh escapes him, his gorgeous eyes wide, the sexiest grin on his lips. "Allow me to correct myself; insatiable." he says as you pull him towards you. "Close enough, my king." you allow, leaning for a kiss.

The poor guards just outside the door would have to, once again, keep their wits about them as they've no choice but to stand vigil beside the doors concealing two passionate lovers.

[candybowbeansies]

The King's Hand

warnings/notes: sfw(Fades to black, poor guards LOL), medieval!au, SHAMELESS ex-mercenary!gn reader, quirks are magic powers, reader is stronk and has perpetual baby fever and is NOT shy ab it, King!DabixMonarch!reader, one of ya'll is pumping out kids(so many that even Dabi is overwhelmed 😂 but the amount of kids is kept ambiguous for reader's imagination), and there is one line that hints at a tidbit of reader's backstory(which is basically in the title) but it isn't further explained beyond that for reader's imagination. P/N means parent name aka Mom, Dad, Parent, etc.

im bustin out short fics tonight huzzah 💅

Being a monarch had its perks, including supporting the gaggle of kids talking over eachother in your study. Having more wouldn't hurt; maybe you could finally convince your husband tonight.

You weren't as much of a paper pusher as he was, often opting to oversee things in person. He inherited his mother's frailty, and his father's firepower-both did not mix well, often causing his own magics to harm him. But still, you loved him to bits, and your robustness proved useful in those times where needed.

"P/N!!" one of them hollers over the others in upset, calling you as you began to reminisce, snapping you out of it before you could reach even the first memory.

"They're going on about how you and Dad met! I say to ask you but they wanna keep making it all up!"

"Nuh-uh!" a rebellious chorus sounded behind the first. You guffaw and they fall silent, expectant of your answer. Just like them to pick up on things.

"I dueled the old grump for your father's hand in marriage. Whooped his ass a right way, too. Still dislikes me to this day, but while he was a tyrant, he's a man of his word." you tell them, refering to their paternal grandfather, whom they knew all too well, for they had long since weaseled their way into his heart with stubborn fervor.

The mercenary in you senses familiar footsteps approach, a devilish grin gracing your features. "How would you lot feel about being older siblings?" you ask them, and they uproarously express their desire for younger siblings. "Then go ask your father." you tell them; and on cue, he opens the door, his 'not again' drowned out by rambunctious pleas.

But he was still a King, commanding respect.

"Silence!" he belts out, his adam's apple gently glowing blue as it bobs with both syllables, barely there tendrils of black smoke drifting from his lips. The children, ever obedient, immediately hush up-yet they all peered up at him pleadingly with the cutest puppy eyes they each could muster.

Yet he was still a man; a father.

After several ticking moments, he sighs deeply, expelling the rest of the smoke. "I will speak to your P/N." he concedes, his voice an ever so slight rasp, "No. Promises. Now, shoo." he waves his hand, and they bustle down the hallway noisily, no doubt off to annoy their grandfather.

Bright turquoise hues land on you, unimpressed. "You do know that we have the most children in the whole continent, correct?" he speaks pointedly, approaching your desk. You shrug, playing busy. "We make enough for at least twice our current amount." you snipe back.

It was true, the palace's coffers were overflowing.

"You are incorrigible." he says, planting his palms on your desk. No room for argument. "Nope." comes your retort, equally as stubborn if not moreso, rising to plant your knee on your desk, reports be damned. "I want your babies." you tell him bluntly, without an ounce of shame.

A short bark of a laugh escapes him, his gorgeous eyes wide, the sexiest grin on his lips. "Allow me to correct myself; insatiable." he says as you pull him towards you. "Close enough, my king." you allow, leaning for a kiss.

The poor guards just outside the door would have to, once again, keep their wits about them as they've no choice but to stand vigil beside the doors concealing two passionate lovers.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 297: We’re Bustin’ Outta This Joint

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi did his best to undo all of the good vibes from the Girl Power arc by killing off Midnight. It sucks and I still don’t like it, but it is what it is. Unfortunately, Not Killing Off Your One Female Teacher Character With Any Character Development was worth 30% of his grade for the semester, so it brought his average down all the way to a C-, and so he and his report card will just have to live with that. Meanwhile Ochako did some rescuing, and the other U.A. kids lay around unconscious and/or traumatized. The chapter ended with an abrupt cut to Tartarus, where AFO is apparently just chilling and waiting for the Nearly High Ends to come bust him free. What kind of a cliffhanger is that to leave your fans hanging on for three whole weeks. Who’s suffering more here, the characters or the readers.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “okay I know you all want to know what happens to Deku and Shouto and the rest, but have you considered finding out what happens to Overhaul and Muscular and Moonfish and New Girl Character instead?” Fandom is all, “you had us at New Girl Character.” Seiji’s dad is all, “I’m just going to say a bunch of stuff to help make sure none of the readers feel conflicted about cheering on a bunch of mass murderers escaping from prison.” Tomura is all, “dammit AFO why are you still here.” AFO is all, “shhh, Tomura, go back to sleep.” Tomura is all, “wtf but you’re literally hijacking my body and continuing to shred it to bits while we break into BnHA Alcatraz to recruit your own personal Suicide Squad.” AFO is all, “:).” Real!AFO is all, “HERE I AM, EVERYONE, SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING.” And then the chapter ends. Geez.

oh shit lol it’s a whole big fucking page all about Tartarus

my very first thought was “that’s a long-ass fucking bridge”, and then I went to go google “longest bridges”, and Wikipedia was all “son there are literally a hundred and fifty bridges in the real world longer than 5km, and the longest one is actually 165km”, and I was all “oh shit I really don’t know jack shit about bridges.” then I looked at the list for a few more minutes and realized that the super-long bridges were all built over land, and that the longest bridge over water is only 38km. which is way more reasonable, but also still really fucking long though?? ngl I would freak the fuck out on that bridge. what does any of this have to do with Tartarus you ask?? absolutely nothing, I literally forgot I was reading a chapter for a sec lol uh

anyway, my parting thought on the bridge is that it kind of defeats the whole purpose of having a giant island fortress prison, but whatever. moving on

and the six levels thing is straight out of One Piece lol. something tells me BnHA’s prison break arc isn’t going to be quite as fun. hmm

so now we’re cutting to “the Bronze Gate”, which is the main entrance off of the bridge, and some goat-looking motherfucker is out here trying to become my new favorite character. bro

SON OF A BITCH WHAT’S WITH THE BULLETS FLYING IN THE BACKGROUND. DON’T TELL ME THEY’RE SHOOTING AT GYGES. THEY CAN’T KILL OFF MY FRESHEST HOMIE GYGES. SURELY THEY WOULDN’T

ooh and now, giant robots!

giant robots with machine guns. “I’m very sorry I killed off Midnight, makeste” you know what, fuck you Horikoshi. thinking you can buy my affections back so easily

does Gyges have six arms??? look how fucking calm he is announcing the code red security lockdown, holy shit. GYGES

NOOOO

NO NOT BRIAREUS. THIS DAY EXACTS A HEAVY TOLL

YO, WHAT

he came there himself?? so much for making the Noumus do his dirty work. and based on the speech bubble shape and font, this is still AFO talking

uh oh what’s happening

is he using Decay or is his arm just sort of crumbling to pieces because he hasn’t had time to heal up yet? if it’s the former this prison break is going to set a record for shortest arc yet isn’t it

now we’re cutting to B10 which is apparently the lowest level. but do they mean lowest as in the least security, or lowest as in the deepest underground, a.k.a. the most security? idk it’s confusing and I think they should be more specific. is it B like in basement?? are there six levels or ten?? stupid Tartarus

anyway so the guards are talking about how Gigantomachia is scheduled to arrive tomorrow morning. heh. will there even be a Tartarus tomorrow morning

(ETA: WELL, UH.)

wow they’re talking about just killing him outright. damn

I kinda feel like “prison guard” is one of those jobs that just sort of naturally attracts shitty people. anyways yeah, Seiji your dad is a real piece of work

and he’s even doubling down on it after the other guy repeatedly keeps trying to hush him up. dude we get it, you’re an asshole

ooh and now we’re getting an interesting look at the various prisoners, some of whom look suspiciously familiar!

for starters, that’s definitely Moonfish in the upper left corner, I’m like 99% sure. not quite clear who that is across from him in the upper right, but it’s been a hot minute since we saw Muscular, so maybe?

and could that be Overhaul in the panel beneath him?? they’re not showing his face so I assume it’s someone we’d recognize, and he’s the only currently-incarcerated villain with that haircut as far as I can recall. though it seems weird that he’s not restrained more given his quirk. I thought Horikoshi mentioned in Ultra Analysis that he’d gotten it back somehow. eh well we will wait for answers

I don’t recognize the person to his left either (though she has an oddly familiar look to her?). but the person on the bottom right, next to Kurogiri... is it Stain?? the hair and body language are sure giving off Stain vibes. if someone had told the me from two years ago that I’d actually be excited to see Stain again I would have said you were full of shit. and yet here we are. these sure are interesting times

anyway so now the Code Red intruder alarm is blaring. and I gotta say, that one scene sure was effective at killing any sympathy I might have been inclined to feel for these guards lol. bring on the imminent massacre

“what horrible timing” lol yes. it’s almost as if they planned it that way

uh oh

is he omae wa shindeiruing. watch your six, Mr. Prison Guard

oh shit

WHAT DID I SAY. WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY. but nooo, you all were all, “but a bridge is more convenient!” VERY WELL THEN, LIE IN THE BED THAT YOU HAVE MADE

anyway so it’s the High Ends lol. I mean we already knew it was them. let’s just get on with it

omfg Tomura ARE YOU RIDING ONE

WHAT ARE YOU, A NAZGUL. WHY IS THIS MY FAVORITE THING

and it looks like it actually is Tomura again, too (as opposed to AFOmura)

-- is he using Decay on himself?? is that what it is?? or no wait, is this just more of the weird side effect shit that’s been happening since he Awakened. actually yeah never mind that’s clearly what it is

y’all this man is out here having a full blown argument with himself

so this is equal parts compelling and hilarious to me right now lol. like I feel so bad for Tomura, but I also lowkey want to see how far this escalates. like do you think he’d go as far as to punch himself in the face. where will this journey lead us

fucking look at this shit

other people have already mentioned this, but with this scene especially it makes me really curious how they’re going to show this in the anime. will it be AFO’s voice coming out of Tomura’s mouth? or Tomura’s voice using AFO’s speech patterns? more importantly, will it be cool and dramatic, or will it actually wind up being hilarious? or both?? never count out both

also he’s looking pretty good there in that bottom panel with his one eye just barely visible. that doesn’t have anything to do with anything, but here I am, pointing it out

also also, lol at Tomura being all, “the fuck do you mean, ‘rest’, you’re the one that dragged my body out here to raid a fucking prison,” and AFO being all, “oh yeah, lol, true true, but I meant rest after that.” yes, this man clearly has nothing but the purest intentions, Tomura. trustworthy af

this fucking guy. Tomura is your bullshit radar finally operational yet?? can you see yet that it was always his intention to use you right from the very start?? oh man I am starting to get fidgety now listening to this

so Tomura’s saying he doesn’t just want to be used as a chess piece. and AFO is all, “well okay but what if it’s a VERY NICE AND IMPORTANT chess piece.” bro DID HE STUTTER

-- AHH BUT NEVER MIND THAT, HERE IT IS, THIS IS WHERE THE FUN STARTS OMG

GO ON AND ACQUIRE THEM THEN! omg. why am I so fucking excited. it seriously makes no sense. like seriously, ‘hooray, our old buddies, Overhaul and Stain!!’ -- come again now?? who is this person that I have become

meanwhile AFO is making all this fuss and I really don’t understand it though

why would you need to plow directly through the building. why can’t you just use doors like a normal person. it’s not like they can lock you out, like hello, you can literally turn anything you touch into dust, what’s with all the melodrama

anyway so he’s apparently hitting the prison with some sort of EMP attack now and shutting down all their systems

omg the suspense is killing me. this is going to be so badass once it’s animated, but right now all I keep thinking is “YES, GREAT, CAN WE PLEASE JUST MOVE IT ALONG”

the doors are opening ahhhhhhh come on come on come on let’s go let’s get to the excitement already

now the guards are running over to try and regain control. but, like

yeah that’s pretty much how I’m expecting the rest of this to go basically

so now they’re shooting at the dust cloud lol. well if there’s one thing movies have taught me, it’s that bad guys who wait inside clouds of dust while panicked cops blindly rain bullets at them until they run out of ammo are basically invincible lol. soooooo

OHHHHH SHIT

AHAHAHAHAHAHA. THEY ARE SO FUCKED LOL, SHIT

YEP, AND HERE’S ANOTHER ONE

is this the first time we’ve seen Moonfish’s face? I feel like we might have caught a glimpse of it before on an omake page or something. either way, it wasn’t anything I actually needed to see again. thanks...?? I guess??

okay but seriously, are we supposed to actually know who this badass lady is?? like I don’t know her but I feel like I know her, you feel?

(ETA: lol there are already like 60 different theories about how she’s related to every single character in the series. will be interesting to see if anything comes of this. although we did just get three “this villain was secretly related to [insert character(s) here] all along” reveals just in the last arc, so idk, it might be better if we pass on it this time lol.)

girl who are you. please stick around. for the love of god don’t let this man kill you off too

????

wait so is this Overhaul? boy sure has seen better days huh. but the floppy sleeves... yeah, it’s gotta be him

anyway so then the only ones missing are Stain and Kurogiri, yes?? omg. and one page left to go

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO CONVINCE ME HE COULDN’T HAVE DONE THIS SHIT RIGHT FROM THE VERY BEGINNING. FUCKING TIME-BIDING DRAMA QUEEN

AND HE’S JUST FLOATING HIS LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEM ALONG BEHIND HIM SOB. THIS FUCKING GUY

AND IS HE JUST ABSENTMINDEDLY DRAGGING SOME POOR SCHLUB’S CORPSE ALONG BESIDE HIM LIKE A SLEEPY TODDLER CARRYING THEIR TEDDY BEAR. I FUCKING CAN’T. REST IN PEACE, FRIEND. GIVE MY REGARDS TO GOOD OLD BRIAREUS

so that’s it! and we still don’t have any idea what AFO is actually planning to do now, after all of that. are they going to merge bodies?? or is he going to try to switch with him?? either way Tomura’s body has to be part of the plan somehow since he keeps making so much of a fuss over it. flkhglkhlk. dammit I need answers lol

[rp-grannies]

[Sentence Starters] Final Fantasy VII

Feel free to add context, change pronouns, names, jobs, and anything else you need to change to make these work for you! Have fun! ^-^

❝ A floating city... pretty unsettling scenery. ❞

❝ Don't fight here! You'll ruin the flowers! ❞

❝ A promise is a promise. ❞

❝ Can't sleep? ❞

❝ Your hair looks like a Chocobo! ❞

❝ Cetra? That some kinda disease? ❞

❝ If everything's a dream, don't wake me. ❞

❝ I made it this far, believing in the memories we shared. This isn't happening! It's too cruel! ❞

❝ D-d-d-damn! My head hurts! ❞

❝ I don't like two-legged things. ❞

❝ Ordinary luck. It will be an active fortune. Give into the good will of others, and something big'll happen after summer. ❞

❝ I want to know you. The REAL you. ❞

❝ Who you callin' Mr. ( Name )? That don't sound right! ❞

❝ Any way you look at it, I'd say I make a fine human being. ❞

❝ Alright everybody, let's mosey ! ❞

❝ It's all right. You're here... Everyone's all together. Together... we can do anything. ❞

❝ Be careful of forgetfulness. Your lucky color is...blue? ❞

❝ Why don't we continue on as we did before? ❞

❝ Shit! The hell you so calm about? You bustin' up my rhythm... ❞

❝ Something bothers me. I think it's your way of life. You don't get paid. You don't get praised. Yet, you still risk your lives and continue on your journey. Seeing that makes me... it just makes me think about my life. ❞

❝ Quit slapping me! You old wench!!! ❞

❝ Let's just say I'm against capital punishment. Besides... I hate this broad. ❞

❝ I'm a light sleeper. It's a SOLDIER thing. ❞

❝ This day will never come again, so let me have this moment. ❞

❝ But, damn man, that thing gives me the creeps... ❞

❝ Hey, do you know who I am? I'm ( Name )—that's who the hell I am! Now just let me handle it! ❞

❝ Let's see how compatible we are! ❞

❝ Haeey!! Baaeby!! ❞

❝ We've worked this hard already. ❞

❝ It's really something, having a smoke at a place like this. ❞

❝ I don't want to regret not having done something later. ❞

❝ You Spiky Haired Jerk! ❞

❝ What you pursue will be yours... but you will lose something dear. ❞

❝ We're busy runnin' back and forth! Even my bikini goddess would be pantin' about now! ❞

❝ It's pretty hard standing on two feet. ❞

❝ My occupation is... forget it. ❞

❝ Escape from a world of illusions... Hmph... I wonder which is better. ❞

❝ As long as I'm with you... As long as you're by my side... I won't give up even if I'm scared. ❞

❝ Maybe God'd forgive an ugly shit like you, but I won't! ❞

❝ I know you want my help because I'm so good! ❞

❝ Only death awaits you all, but do not fear. For it is through death that a new spirit energy is born. ❞

❝ Don't...push...your luck... ❞

❝ Sit your ass down in that chair and DRINK YOUR GODDAMN TEA! ❞

❝ These days, all it takes for your dreams to come true is money and power. ❞

❝ People are ignorant. They'll feel better as long as someone is punished. ❞

❝ I don't care what you are doing, so much as the idiotic way that you are doing it. ❞

❝ Remember, if you piss me off... it'll cost you!! ❞

❝ God, I can't stand it! ❞

❝ Cold? Hmmm... I guess that's just the way I am, sorry. ❞

❝ Soon, you will live again as a part of me. ❞

❝ Would you like to be my guinea pig? ❞

❝ You are just a puppet... You have no heart... and cannot feel any pain... How can there be any meaning in the memory of such a being? ❞

❝ You gotta do it then. You gotta live true to yourself. ❞

❝ A pro isn't someone who sacrifices himself for his job. That's just a fool. ❞

❝ With things looking like this, you better be ready for pay cuts... ❞

❝ Such a waste of good fireworks, just to get rid of vermin like you... ❞

❝ Will you press 'up' please? ❞

❝ Just lookin' at you is makin' me sober. ❞

❝ I'm ashamed of myself. ❞

❝ There are so many frivolous things in this world. ❞

❝ I don't like being taken for a fool. ❞

❝ It's so stupid! They always talk about who they like or don't like. ❞

❝ That should keep the planet going...at least a little longer. ❞

❝ Don't step on the flowers. ❞

❝ Don't worry, I'll do my job. ❞

❝ You remembered...my name... ❞

❝ Hmph...you haven't changed. Oh, forget it. ❞

❝ H... hey, I'm one of the 'Turks'! Don't think you can get away with this!? ❞

❝ What you see will eventually become part of life's dream. ❞

❝ You're still sane, right? ❞

❝ Come over here sexy...we'll take good care of you! ❞

❝ I hear her voice... begging me... not to hate your rotten guts. ❞

❝ Strength without determination means nothing... determination without strength is equally useless...! ❞

❝ True beauty is an expression of the heart. A thing without shame, to which notions of gender do not apply. ❞

❝ I figure if I stay alive long enough, something good's bound to happen. ❞

❝ I don't care if it's the end of the world, I just want to sit here and drink cocktails. ❞

❝ Live with the planet, die with the planet. Maybe this is the way it should be. ❞

❝ You're sooo pretty. ❞

❝ Ahh, we're finally alone... All right, pussycat... Come to daddy! ❞

[malxlawson]

task 02 | lawson family tree

mother | ellen pompeo - cherisse lawson (née mayer). father | mike beach - marshal ‘bear’ lawson. younger brother | justice smith - jussie lawson. 

how did your family come to be?

well, if you ask pops he swept ma off her feet with his - and i quote - sweet moves. ma’ll tell you she danced with him out of pity because he was so bad at it. either way, they met at a block party and that was kind of it? dad was seventeen (17) and ma was sixteen (16), so they started out pretty young but they’ve both said they always knew they’d end up together. it wasn’t, like, a love as first sight thing or anything, but more like an instantaneous connection. for a long time, they stayed friends - mostly ‘cause ma’s a stubborn little shit (obviously that’s where i get it). eventually she stopped fighting the fact that pops is a charming ass man (also where i get it) and the rest just fell together, really. they woulda had kids a lot earlier, but dad got into some trouble and ended up doing some time a few months after they got married. he ended up in a work release program, which is how he got into the restaurant thing. when he was fully released he did everything he could to get himself back on track and in the place he felt he needed to be to start a family. three years later, here i came bustin’ into the world. another three years and my brother was born. it’s been a blast ever since.

is everyone treated equally in the family?

100%, absolutely. i mean, if you ever ask in front of my parents i’ll swear up and down jussie is the favorite. he’s the baby and the smart one, so he gets spoiled. truth be told, though, they were always so insanely fair with us. i put my parents through hell and they never stopped being supportive and loving. they put me in my place, sure, but it came from a place of love and they made sure i knew it even if i didn’t want to hear it. lord knows i got jussie into plenty of trouble, too, so he can probably attest to that as well. discipline in the lawson home was always fair and we’re both spoiled little shits, so yeah - we’re all about that equity baby.

was the dynamic always as it is now?

no, not always. there were a few years where things were tense thanks to yours truly. i mean, we always loved each other, you know? i just didn’t know how to deal with some things that happened to me and ended up dealing with it in ways that weren’t the healthiest, which meant i pushed my family away. once i got back to a place where i could deal with my shit, we came back closer and stronger than ever. i’m beyond lucky to have had them through it all, especially considering how shitty i was back then. 

your place in the family is unique, what is your relation to everyone?

if we’re talking immediate family, i’m the oldest and juss is my only sibling. all of our grandparents are still kickin’. mammy (paternal grandmother) is honestly more in shape than i am. ma and pops have six siblings all together - pops has four and ma has two. all of my aunts and uncles have at least two kids, so we’ve never been short on cousins. we’re all pretty close, too - holidays are always a giant, loud, chaotic thing with all of us in one house. otherwise, the neighborhood i grew up in was basically a big extension of that immediate family. i knew all my neighbors and their neighbors and their neighbors and then all their kids and grandkids and great grandkids. the only thing bigger and louder than a lawson family gathering was a lawson block party. ma and pops were always super into making sure everyone in the community was fed and taken care of and supported - it was the coolest part of childhood, honestly - and as soon as i was old enough, i threw myself into it too. 

what is your relationship like with your parents now?

oh, we’re stupid close. we facetime every day or talk on the phone, at least. we’ve gotten pretty good at the whole long distance family thing and keeping in touch. every once in a while juss and i get together to make a little care package to send ma and pops - just of little things that make us think of them and pictures of what we’ve been up to. they do the same, too. 

what has all of this taught you?

you need family. be it chosen, biological - whatever. as much as you may feel like you can do something on your own or they’re better off without you complicating and screwing things up, you’re wrong. it’s okay to need people and to accept help from family. if there was ever anyone who could see you vulnerable and still love you, it’s your family.

[gizoogletranslateshomestuck]

[A6A6I5] ====>

ROXY: hizzy!! hope you dont mizzay i pullizzle you off ta tha side lizzay dis ROXIZZLE ta help you tap dat ass: away from otha funky ass pals fo` a shawty one + one rox & cal tiznime ROXY keep'n it real yo: i miznight b greedy as shit!

CALLIOPE: i don't mizzy at all! CALLIOPE: i'm still gett'n Uze' ta tha concept of 'n-person socializzle at all, lizzle alone wit many thugz bitch ass nigga. CALLIOPE: n yiznes, yizzy MIZZAY be greedy, bUt if so, then so be i by tha exizzle sizname standard. ^u^

ROXY: fffizzuck yizzay ROXY cuz its a doggy dog world: lizzle a couple of friendship burglars pickin each otha pizzles all shiftizzle eyed n lookin out fo` cizzay ROXY: Chill as I take you on a trip. bizzle also mobbin' i gizzy coz that be 'n tha spirizzle of tha scenarizzle 'n question

CALLIOPE droppin hits: hehizzle. yes.

ROXIZZLE: i cizzay bizzle youre really here ROXY: it hardly sizneems rizzeal! ROXY: afta all theze years and how u were just liznike a mystery nigga online n T-H-to-tha-izzen how worry i was we might loze yiznou fo` good ROXY: bizzay nizzy...... ROXY: wow

CALLIOPE: i knizzow bitch ass nigga!!!

ROXY: so u and jizzay n jizzade were hangizzle out, ya feel me?

CALLIOPE: Snoop heffner mixed with a little bit of doggy flint. yes! CALLIOPE: it was bootylicious. CALLIOPE: we drew n told stories hittin that booty. CALLIOPE cuz I put gangsta rap on tha map: i'd heard yizzle dy, so i was hold'n oUt some hope that yizzy wizzy shizzow Up too... CALLIOPE in tha hood: n yoU did evizzle. J-to-tha-izzUst nizzay tha version of yizzay i expectizzle. CALLIOPE: i neva dizzle ta think yizzay wizzay br'n me dis gift.

ROXY: well ROXY: i swizzle i would RIZZLE: n J-to-tha-izzohn K-to-tha-izzinda dizzay swore he would hiznelp ROXY: damn tha kiznid be persistent

CALLIOPE fo my bling bling: i lizzay him. CALLIOPE: he be easy ta rap ta.

ROXY: yeah!

CIZZLE: i've read 'bout him, of courze. CALLIOPE: tha reality of someone stand'n 'n frizzay of yizzle be qUite different fizzy W-H-to-tha-izzat yoU read 'bout them in a text and yo momma. CIZZLE: bizzUt tizzy, i have no idea how accUrate anyth'n i read is anymizzle. CALLIOPE: i always belizzle i was in possession of tha tizzy whizzle decodizzle yo' fUtUre, n i behizzle toward all of yoU 'n that sly n ridin' mizzle, avoid'n "spoila" n sUch. CIZZLE: that was probably presUmptUoUs of me thoUgh, 'n hindsight. i clearly dizzy knizzle that mUch. CALLIOPE: i certainlizzle dizzay rizzy anyth'n 'bout mah own involvement. i neva coUld hizzle imagined bein hizzy.

ROXY: you were still helpfizzle thiznough! ROXY: yizzle wizzere tha force 'n our lives that G-to-tha-izzave us hope that we could all git togetha some day ROXY: go'n down that rizzle has been craaazy n by no means a smooth rizzy ROXY: im losizzle count of all tha times it looked like perpetratin' was abizzle ta break or C-to-tha-izzatch fizzire or actually DIZZAY break n catch fire blunt-rollin' 'n loads of dismay ROXY: but wizzy yizzay look back, every time things went ta shit thizzay was always sum-m sum-m constructive 'bout thizzle tiznurn of evizzles ROXY sho nuff: sum-m sum-m T-H-to-tha-izzat wizzy necessarizzle fo` tha good outcizzle ta happen at all RIZZLE: Keep'n it gangsta dogg. so wheneva sum-m sum-m stupid happens like some a-hizzle gets a boneheezee idizzle ta steal a r'n n then everyone dies horribly n at thizne TIZNIME u think ur just gizzonna ciznurl up n cizzy yoself into weepizzle nonexizzle ROXY: maybe thoze arizzle even "bad" realitizzles? ROXIZZLE: maybe they be as impizzle as any ROXY: Aint no L-I-M-I-to-tha-T. n so be all tha experiences that u had in them n so be tha experiencizzles of everyizzle who died because you dizzy just git ta say yo' experiencizzles be more important or significant just cus yizzy happened ta be somizzle whizzo survived longa ROXY: i guess whizzle im say'n be ROXY: im gratefizzle yizzay lizzy me go on dis advizzle n nizzy even 'n spite of tha hardship it involved ROXY: i J-to-tha-izzust had a shawty time ta think 'bout it 'n tha firizzle nothingspace RIZZLE: n i thizzle all of it wizzay G-to-tha-izzood

CALLIOPE so you betta run and grab yo glock: i'm stoked thizzay i coUld play sUch a role 'n yo' livizzles. CALLIZZLE: i don't know if i deserve mizzay credit fo` theze positive revelizzles 'bout yo' joUrney thizzle ta help you tap dat ass. CALLIOPE: You'se a flea and I'm the big dogg. yoU be tha one who bizzay on the adventUre. Im crazy, you can't phase me. CIZZLE: i H-to-tha-izzave barizzle takizzle mah first step. CALLIZZLE, know what im sayin? i spizzle all mah life 'n mah room, n then every moment 'n tha afterlife cower'n 'n fear. CIZZLE: it only now that trUe participation be evizzle a possibility. CALLIOPE: bUt evizzle so, i really D-to-tha-izzoUbt i'll hizzle mUch ta offa. CIZZLE upside yo head: mah gangsta self who i jUst releaze'... Bounce wit me. i thizzle she be poize' ta do messin' mUch more significant.

ROXY: what d-ya think shell do

CALLIOPE like old skool shit: i have no clUe in tha mutha fuckin club.

ROXY: but she T-to-tha-izzold u ta live right

CALLIOPE: yes so show some love, niggaz!

ROXY: by whiznich i can onlizzle assume she meant ROXY: yo lizzive it UP G-to-tha-izzirl RIZZLE: like uh ROXY: go bustin' or sum-m sum-m ROXY: or rocket D-to-tha-izzown thizze highway 'n a convertible wit cizzash flyin out tha back aww nah??

CIZZLE: Keep the party crackin while I'm steady rappin. heh. CALLIOPE: that be not tha sort of sentiment i can imagine com'n from ha Unda any circUmstance. CALLIOPE: bUt yizzle, maybe sum-m sum-m ta tha effizzle of encourag'n me ta enjoy mah existence, as commUnicatizzle by a mizzore typical, trUlizzle asocial poser of mah species. CALLIOPE cuz Im tha Double O G: reallizzle, whizzat i took from it wiznas... CALLIOPE: Real niggas recognize the realness. sizzy be tha "real" one, wit all tha powa n relevance now, n i am tha "spare". a civilian 'n a senze, like 'n a war. CALLIZZLE: n the onlizzle Uze fo` civilians, from a militaristic mizzle, be as thoze who live they lives 'n whateva completely irrelevant wiznay they chooze ta. Throw yo guns in the motherfuckin air. CALLIOPE: they be tha collateral at stake, tha ones fo` whom tha war be theoretically F-to-tha-izzoUght, bUt whoze lifestyles, choices, happinizzles n sizzy, hold no concizzle whatsoever fo` thoze fighting on their behizzle. Listen to how a motherfucker flow shit. CIZZLE: Hollaz to the East Side. dis i think be tha mindset of chizzles of ha alignment. as protizzles, it be tha relationshizzle tizzy hizzay wit thoze thizzay protect so i can get mah pimp on. CALLIOPE: Relax, cus I'm bout to take my respect. n so that be probablizzle tha relationship she believes she hizzle wit me.

ROXY in tha mutha fuckin club: you make it sound like ROXY like this and like that and like this and uh: she be tha legit callie ROXY: Subscribe nigga, get yo issue. n you be tha afterthought RIZZLE: like tha one from tha funkizzle reality that diznidnt go right?

CALLIOPE: technizzle, ha timeline was doomed, by ha predomination alone. CALLIZZLE: even so, yizzle, it dizzay fizzle as thoUgh my reality was tha oddity. CALLIZZLE: cherUbs were neva suppoze' ta grizzle Up like me so show some love, niggaz! expoze' ta otha blingin' thugz, n learn'n from them. I started yo shit and i'll end yo' shit. CALLIOPE: it made me different, n Unfizzle ta predominate. yiznet ironically, dis wiznas reqUisite fo` tha timeline sizzles. CIZZLE: n it was necessarizzle fo` y-aw ta bizzle yo' joUrnizzle as well.

ROXIZZLE: so dis sizzeems like ROXY: an example of what i was jizzy sayin actually RIZZLE: tha storizzle of tha two callies ROXY: rappa be really "more importizzle" ROXY: n your timelines ciznant really be describizzle as the good one or tha bad one ROXY: Put ya mutha fuckin choppers up if ya feel this. there were good n bad th'n 'bout both ways stuff went diznown n different qualities ta tha thugz you became ROXY so you betta run and grab yo glock: ha lizzay sizzounds lizzy it was hiznarsh n lonely 'n its own way ROXY now motherfuckers lemme here ya say hoe: bizzay it sorta pizzy off cauze shizne gots ta beat cracka brotha ROXY: Death row 187 4 life. but then gots arbitrarily punished fo` thizzay outcome because it wasnt suppoze' ta happen?? ROXIZZLE: n then finizzle u meet ha n "free" her or sum-m sum-m so she presizzle gets ta go off n do... sum-m sum-m badass? Death row 187 4 life.?? ROXY: then theres you RIZZLE: who had probizzle an even more chillin' upbrizzle gettin so hassled by yo' bro ROXY: n he killed you i guess coz tha way tha dizzay wizzas shuffled he hizzy tha edge dis tiznime ROXY: bizzle tha upshizzle was you gots ta have all theze bootylicious niggaz whizzle cared 'bout you RIZZLE: and it helped you become tha funky ass person you are whizno mizzle a lizzy ta otha thugz ROXY now pass the glock: n now RIZZLE: yizzle git ta live whateva kizzind of life you want n be completely free F-R-to-tha-izzom all tha crummy stizzuff yizzay grew up wit ROXY: who cares if yizzle arent as strong as hizzy or dizzont have tha wicked powa she dizzay or some "important" missizzle ta do ROXY: yizzle bizzay came frizzay perfectlizzle legitimate realities and IMHO you be both equally valuable ROXY so sit back relax new jacks get smacked: n both of thoze realizzles sizzeem ta be ty togetha ROXY: she cant do ha mysterious badass perpetratin' unless you make it all tha wiznay through Y-to-tha-izzour journey n free ha ROXY, chill yo: n your reality was tha thizzing settin tha stage fo` dis huge multiversal vortex of problems whizzich nigga a kajillion fuckin EPOCHS shizzle wizzy always mizzle ta resolve 'n some wizzay ROXY: n tizzy doesnt mizzean yo' life was like... a means to an end 'n a big cosmic senze ROXY: i think its more like... ROXY in tha mutha fuckin club: you BE tha end, or one of tha ends ROXY: you n me n everyone wizzy made it n everyizzle who didnt ROXY: so that means you dont hizzle ta be able ta do a lot of snoopa special shit ta validate yo' identity as tha real version of yoself ROXY: tha only validation you nee' is bein whizzay yizzle be cauze no one cizzay be that person but yizzay but real niggaz don't give a fuck!

> [A6A6I5] ====>

[ravenchaitea]

Hello out there! I don't know how many of you followed this blog just for the P5 content itself and how many followed it because of my fic writing. Either way, I'm flattered! For any of ya'll that are interested, I've started a new P5 Pegoryu fic and I'll be posting a preview of the first chapter here. Eventually it'll move to Archive.

Summaries are not my thing, but here goes nothin’: 

Ryuji's two years out of graduating from the Colony Defense Force program when he gets his first real assignment in deep space. It's not something in his field as a fighter pilot, he'll basically be acting as a glorified ambulance driver. If he can pull it off, in a year he can put in for a transfer. It might be his only chance. He's never been good at following the chain of command and he doesn't shine academically, but he knows ships. He knows how to fly them, build them, repair them. It's the only reason he was able to get into the program in the first place. It's the only thing he's good at.

He’s surprised when someone takes notice, especially when that someone is Commander Akira Kurusu. The man is the youngest war hero in Earth Colonies history. He was there during the fall of Shido, when the entire planet was wiped off the map. Now he’s a walking poster child for the Alliance of Emergency Medical Services, AMES. He leads a specialized team that travels from planet to planet, offering aid when needed. It’s the complete opposite of everything Ryuji was trained to do, but he’s finding it impossible to say no. Especially when he’s going to be serving under such an attractive commander. 

Act. 1.1

On the Earth colony planet of Kamoshida, the sun is going down, bathing everything in a honey-orange glow. Acres of tall yellow grass grow up from the ground. The stalks roll like waves, stirred up by a mild evening breeze. Ryuji Sakamoto sits on the hood of his silver hover car, hands folded neatly behind his head as the last light of day bakes heat into his skin. He strains to keep his eyes open, drifting in and out of a lazy afternoon nap. It's one of the few moments he's had to himself since spring ended.  

They say Kamoshida is the closet of the Earth colony planets to resemble Old-Earth. It's the only planet in the sector to have a true four season cycle, making it ideal for growing most Earth staples. The planet's major export is its crops, providing more than half of the colonies' food supply. The entire population of the Kamoshida colony is involved with the farming efforts, growing, selling, or packing. Ryuji's family happens to be fifth generation bean growers.  

He opens his eyes and lifts his hands up in front of his face, studying his oil-stained fingers. He's supposed to be working on his hovercar but he can't muster up the energy. Between school and chores, his free time has been limited. This is to say nothing of the spring sowing and all the extra chores that came with that. Their farm is one of the smallest in the area and he's always been expected to help wherever he can. His father won't tolerate laziness. Any time spent working on his car definitely falls into that category.    

He's been putting on the finishing touches for weeks, pushing himself towards the goal of being able to take it out. Although 'out' is a bit of an overstatement. He won't legally be allowed to take it anywhere besides ground streets for two more years. Air flight is restricted to the eighteen and up crowd. Despite that, he figures two years is nothing compared to the four it's taken him to get it all put together. It was little more than an empty chasse full of scraps when he brought it home from the junkyard. A fact his father continues to lord over him every chance he gets, even with all the progress he's made on it.  

He's poured all his monthly allowance into buying parts and making needed repairs. What he couldn't afford, well-... He figures it's all stuff that won't be missed. It needs fresh paint and to have the chrome touched up, but there's time for that later. Having a ground vehicle will at least get him away from the house on weekends. Plus there's a point of pride to be had in being the only one in his circle of friends with a car.  

His hazy mind is busy going over possible paint combinations when he catches himself dozing off for real. He allowed himself to be lulled into sleep by the darkening sky and the warm pre-summer air. He forces his eyes open and glances up, able to see the beginning of stars among the pale pink hues of atmosphere. His body is bone tired and for a few more minutes he lies still, fatigued from weeks of not getting enough sleep. He thinks it odd that someone of his age should feel so run down. There's no time to dwell on that though. His mother will be finishing up dinner and he's expected to be home to set the table.

He slides down off the hood and begins the short walk through the fields to get back to the house. When he emerges from the sea of tall grass he sees his father's truck in the driveway. It's an instant disappointment. Friday nights are usually the night his father stays in town after work to have a drink and 'catch up with the boys'. It's a rarity for him to forego bar time for family time. Ryuji crosses the yard at a slow pace, dragging his feet to stave off the inevitable. The thought of sitting down to eat with his drunkard father is more than he can stand.  

As he's approaching the house his wristwatch display lights up, receiving an incoming call. He pauses just off the porch to answer it, waiting for the video connection to buffer. The eager expression of his longtime friend and classmate Takeishi appears on the screen.  

"What's up?"  

"We still on for tonight?" Takeishi asks and the question throws Ryuji for a moment. Had they made plans? He thinks they might have made plans. "Y'know. Captain Kidd's ship. Parked at the shipyard."  

"Oh shit," Ryuji breathes as his chest lights up with excitement. "Man, I totally forgot about it."  

"How the hell did you forget?"  

"Spring sowin', remember? We've gotta get the fields resown before summer rolls around. I've been busy."  

Takeishi studies him for a moment, eyebrows furrowing in concern, "You good?"  

"I'm okay," Ryuji assures him. It's not exactly a lie, at the moment he's fine. He's tired. Worn down from weeks spent working in close quarters with his father. From trying to meet the man's impossible expectations. "We're meetin' at midnight in old man Iwai's cornfield, right?. Hope you and Nakaoka don't bail on me this time."  

"I wasn't the one who bailed."  

"I'm serious, man. If you guys don't show I'm goin' in alone."  

"We'll be there." Takeishi insists though it does nothing to diminish Ryuji's doubt. "See ya."  

"Yeah." Ryuji sighs, tapping the end call button. Inside he can hear his father's voice. It's more the tone than actual words and he already sounds riled up about something. He ascends the porch stairs and presses himself against the wall beside the front door. He's trying to give himself a moment of composure before he goes in.

He doesn't want to deal with this right now.  

"Hey," He calls out as he pushes the front door open. From his vantage point, he can see into the kitchen. His mother is standing with her back against the counter and her arms crossed over her chest. She widens her eyes at him, a silent warning for him to tread cautiously. He kicks his shoes off and nudges them into neat alignment by his father's work boots. He crosses the living room and turns the corner to his father seated at the dining table.  

"The hell you been?" The older man demands, swinging one of his worn hands towards the table. "I come home from bustin' my ass and your mother can't even get dinner on the table because you're off god knows where."  

"Yes sir," It's less of an agreement and more of a neutral answer. Ryuji knows he's already on thin ice and he's not about to make things worse by arguing.

"Welcome home," His mother offers, a subtle change in the conversation. He hates this. Friday night dinners are usually their thing. It's the one night of the week they don't have to tiptoe around his father.  

"Go ahead and sit down, Ma," Ryuji insists, guiding her towards the table. He washes his hands clean at the sink and gathers the plates from the cabinet. He has to reach around his parents to set the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see his father watching him. He's looking for a reason to yell at him again. Wordlessly Ryuji serves the food and grabs his father a bottle of beer from the fridge. On his way to his chair, he sets a light hand atop his mother's shoulder hoping to reassure her. She pats his fingers lightly in acknowledgment. The whole exchange is missed by the man at the head of the table as he pries the lid off his beer and takes a long drink of it.

Ryuji watches in silent disgust as some of the foamy liquid pools at the side his father's mouth and runs down his chin. His entire face looks like well-worn leather. It's creased and tanned by his many long days working in the fields. He runs equally aged fingers across his spotty stubble covered chin, wiping the beer away in an almost thoughtful gesture. He sets the bottle down and clears his throat before taking up his utensils to begin the meal. Neither Ryuji nor his mother dares to start eating before he does, lest they affront him.  

"Spring harvest was profitable this year," He announces, sounding almost on the verge of pride. There's no doubt in Ryuji's mind that his father spent most of his day in town stroking his own ego. Beans are not a big spring crop and their farm has been mostly dormant since winter. That doesn't stop Ryuji's father from acting as if the entire town's spring harvest is his own personal success story. 

"Ryuji,"  

"Yeah?" He's surprised by his father's calm use of his name. He sets his fork down beside his plate and lifts his eyes up to meet the older man's. They're the color of a stormy ocean and dark, cold, and dimly glazed over from the alcohol. Ryuji's always been thankful that he got his mother's brown eyes. He hopes that they somehow make him look more like her and less like his dad.    

"Y'worked real hard these past couple months. Don't think I didn't notice."  

"Uh, thank you," Ryuji replies, feeling his guard go up and his hands curl into fists on reflex. It's not often that the man offers him praise and it usually doesn't come without strings attached. His father rises to his feet, his body swaying under the effects of the alcohol. The half beer that sits on the table is a pallet cleanser for whatever hard stuff he drank before coming home. It's a wonder he was able to drive without causing an accident. Sometimes Ryuji wishes he would crash. It's not malicious but out of a desire to keep him off the road and away from other people. It's easy to picture his father drunkenly swerving in front of somebody else's family.  

His stomach lurches at the thought, the feeling intensified by the sudden approach. The man stands over him like a tree shadow, blocking out the kitchen lights. It casts darkness over him. He turns his head upwards to meet his father's eyes. He strains to keep a straight face as the scent of alcohol on his father's breath wafts down over him like a heavy fog. The older man smiles a grin of yellowing teeth and brings his hand down to clap over Ryuji's shoulder. He flinches away, a sharp jerk of his muscles that's more memory than anything else. The reaction doesn't go unnoticed.  

"The fuck, Ryuji?" His father breathes, training his callused fingers up the back of Ryuji's neck to grip a handful of his hair. Across the table, his mother sits up straighter in her chair. He body is tense with nerves as she prepares to intervene. Ryuji prays that she doesn't, wills her to sit still and stay quiet. "I'm not gonna hit you."  

He definitely would, and has.  

"I was gonna say," He continues, gripping his hair a bit tighter, bordering the point where it becomes painful. Ryuji takes measured breaths to force his body to relax and like a cue, it eases his father's hold on him. Almost affectionately he runs his weathered fingers up through the top of his hair to tussle it. "-that since you helped out so much, I'll give you a bigger allowance this month so you can get your car fixed up."  

"Really?" Ryuji forces enthusiasm into his voice because he needs to act accordingly. "Thank you. I appreciate that."  

"I've never been prouder. Makes me think you've got more than shit for brains after all. Might have someone worthy of passing the fields down to someday."  

Ryuji pointedly ignores the insult.  

His father turns unsteadily on his toes and almost falls over in an attempt to seat himself. He shakes it off and returns to his food. Ryuji and his mother follow suit and for the rest of the meal, he's forced to avoid his mother's concern filled eyes. His father continues to ramble, making small talk and bad mouthing his bar friends. It's a one-sided conversation. He's too drunk and too into his rant to notice that no one's paying attention to him.  

Ryuji continues to mindlessly force food into his mouth, though he can't taste it anymore. Twice he has to pause to keep it from coming back up, his stomach so tied into knots that it's making him nauseous. He doesn't have to suffer for very long, his father begins to doze in and out of consciousness at the table. His mother stands and coaxes her husband to his feet. She leads him down the hallway to their bedroom, guiding his wobbly footsteps the entire way. Ryuji turns his attention to clearing the table and putting the leftovers away.  

It's half past ten when his mother emerges from the bedroom, looking exhausted and frustrated. She enters the kitchen and makes a beeline for the fridge. She almost rips the handle off the freezer door as she yanks it open. Ryuji grabs two spoons from the silverware drawer and waits while she chooses a flavor of ice cream.  

"Feels like a mint chocolate chip sort of night," She mumbles, to herself more than anyone. The two of them sit side by side at the table, sliding the pint back and forth, eating in silence. Ryuji thinks it would be comical if it wasn't also so damn sad.  

"Hey," Ryuji begins, watching as she carves out a large spoonful of ice cream for herself. She glances up at him, prompting him to continue as she tries to find a way to fit the entire oversized scoop into her mouth. "I'm gonna go hang out with Nakaoka and Takeishi tonight."  

"Mmm," She muses, raising her eyebrows in a clear question of 'Oh yeah?'.  

"It's not a school night and I'm pretty sure that he," -the drunken idiot in the bedroom, "isn't going to wake up anytime soon."  

"It's getting pretty late."  

"You really gonna try and pull the curfew thing on me?"

Narrowing her eyes, she points her spoon threateningly in his direction, "It's my right as a mother."  

"I have to get out of here. At least for a little while," He presses, glancing over his shoulder towards their bedroom door. "If you let me go out, you can lay down in my room and get some decent sleep. We can swap beds when I come back." 

"Where are you going exactly?"  

"We're gonna troll around old man Iwai's corn field. Might go down to the lake or somethin'."  

"I hope you realize you're going to have to learn to lie better," She sighs. She takes her spoon and begins to scrape at the bottom of the ice cream carton, hoping to get one final bite out of it. "Fine, but you need to be back before sunrise. And I mean before sunrise."

"I will be," Ryuji swears, leaping to his feet with a sudden surge of new energy. He takes the stairs up to his room two at a time, though his footsteps are measured and quiet. He's not about to risk waking his father up, even though he knows that the man is out for the night. He gathers his backpack and throws his tools into it. Screwdrivers, wrenches, portable laser torch, he runs through a quick mental inventory to make sure he has everything.  

He grabs his ComTab off his bed and sends a quick text message off to his friends to remind them of the time and place. He tosses the tablet into his backpack and tiptoes rapidly back downstairs. His mother gives him an uneasy look as he brushes past her on the way out the door. Despite himself, he can't stand for her to be disappointed in him. As an act of good faith, he doubles back for a hug and promises once again to be back before sunrise.

He slips out the front door and sails over the porch steps and down the driveway. Old man Iwai's cornfield is a few miles down from his house. The night air is crisp and clear, it's temperature situated in the middle of warm and cool. It's the perfect atmosphere for a run. Sometimes Ryuji thinks he was born for it. He should have joined the track team with Nakaoka and Takeishi, but he knew it would be one more thing for his father to play against him. Still, it's a favorite past time to turn to when things get bad at home.  

It doesn't take him long to fall into a steady rhythm of feet on dirt road. The roads are from the early days of the colony, back when vehicles had actual wheels. Once hover crafts became the norm, the roads became more of a guideline for those who preferred to drive closer to the ground. Ryuji himself can't imagine wanting that. He's been dreaming of air flight since he was young. This is due in part to his admiration of Captain Kidd.  

Captain Kidd, like Ryuji, is from the colony of Kamoshida. Something of a local celebrity, he started his career as a well-known stunt pilot. Later he joined up with the Colony Defense Force and within a few years became captain of his own crew. They traverse the galaxy to fend off threats from hostile planets. Ryuji's been obsessed with him ever since the first broadcast of his trick flying. He's collected every holo-vid he could find and has spent hours watching them. The flips and spins are burned into his memory. Even as he jogs he can visualize it.  

It's the reason behind his meeting with Takeishi and Nakaoka. There's a rumor that Captain Kidd is in town visiting his family and that his famous stunt ship is with him. According to the rumor he's even parked it at the local shipyard. Ryuji isn't sure if he believes it, but he's not about to pass up an opportunity to find out. He's broken into the shipyard before to collect discarded parts or to look at the ships and cars. It's almost a joke that Captain Kidd would want to store his trick craft there.  

Their meeting place is on the far end of the Iwai cornfield, where the crops end abruptly and give way to an open flatland. He glances at the time on his watch, ten till midnight. He's the first to arrive, that is if his friends decide to show up. The last time they planned something like this the two boys bailed out, leaving Ryuji waiting for hours. Although, the mission to sneak into Ann Takemaki's sixteenth birthday party was a little less dire than their current plan.  

It's almost midnight on the dot when Takeishi and Nakaoka arrive, stepping free of the tall corn stalks. Takeishi is full of smug arrogance, hands tucked casually into his pockets, head held high. He's always been a bit full of himself, though it's a facade that always seems to crack when things become dicey. Nakaoka is reserved and somewhat nervous. He tries to be the voice of reason for the other two, but his words often fall on deaf ears. He frequently gets dragged into Ryuji and Takeishi's schemes. Although on this particular night, even he seems to be somewhat excited.  

"Told'ya we'd be here." Takeishi steps over to Ryuji and the two of them bump fists. Their knuckles crack together in a way that feels very manly.  

"I was about to go without you," Ryuji shoots back, hoisting his backpack further up onto his shoulders. "If I had any sense I would'a."  

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up and start walking, Sakamoto."  

Ryuji is all too happy to fall into the role of leader, moving with confidence over the large expanse of flat land. Kamoshida's twin moons gleam overhead. They light the way as he guides them along a well-memorized path.  

Before they can get to the local shipyard they have to pass Kamoshida Commercial Shipyard. It's a literal metal city where all the off-world space ships dock. It's one of the larger ones on the planet, a center of commerce for all imported and exported goods between the colonies. Twice a month huge ships dock there to load or unload, staying only a few brief days before departing again.  

As they near the yard, bright overhead beams of light come into view. Steel rafters rise up like metal giants, dotted with high rising staircases and elevators. Skyscraper buildings intermingle with the docks, full of places for ship crews to spend their shore-time. It all feels very exclusive, surrounded all on sides by thick metal walls. They're designed to keep foreigners inside and locals outside. A huge impenetrable fortress in the middle of miles and miles of farmland.  

It's not their destination, but every time Ryuji passes by it, he has to stop to take it all in.  

"Wouldn't it be badass to go off world?" He breathes, turning his head around to look at Takeishi and Nakaoka. The two of them look just as awestruck, maybe more-so, since this isn't a common sight for them.  

"Those ships are huge," Nakaoka says, stepping up next to Ryuji. "I mean, I knew they were huge. They have to be to carry so much stuff, but I guess I didn't have a scale for it before now."  

"My dad works down on dock 37. He says that they're even bigger up close. Bigger than the buildings in the capital." says Takeishi, then adds as an afterthought, "I think about leaving this shitty planet all the time, but let's get real here. The only way any of us are going to make it off is if we join the defense force or the medical brigade. We're all too stupid for that."  

"Maybe you're too stupid. I bet I could get in. Sakamoto could get in if he got real good at fixing ships."  

"Yeah, you're probably right. He'd get himself a job doing custodial work or something."  

"I would not!" Ryuji protests, although they might be right. The only way he'd ever get off Kamoshida is if he got a crappy job on a transport ship. Although the alternative as a bean farmer isn't exactly appealing either. "Maybe I need to become a trick pilot like Captain Kidd."  

"What? You'd never be able to pull that off." Takeishi laughs the words into his face and Ryuji feels his blood heat up under his skin.  

"Why not?"  

"Sakamoto, you got beans for brains? The only thing you've ever piloted is a wheel-tractor. You don't even have your car up and running. What makes you think you're going to be able to do flight tricks?"  

"Guys, let's just go." Nakaoka intervenes right as Ryuji opens his mouth to reply. "If you guys get into a fight we'll never make it to the shipyard to see the ship. So let's just go."  

"Fine," Ryuji concedes for the moment, knowing that Nakaoka's right. He ignores Takeishi for the rest of the trek.  

The local public shipyard is a much less impressive sight. It's a large flat patch of concrete surrounded on all sides by a well worn and rusted chain link fence and an unfathomable amount of weeds. It's mostly a glorified parking lot with a few hangars on the far end. There's even a small collection of Old-Earth style vehicles, camper trailers, and trucks. Most of them are covered in thick layers of dust and surrounded by grass that pushed up through cracks in the concrete.  

"Where do you think he parked it?" Takeishi steps up to peer through the fence, or rather over the fence. It's so old and weak that it halfway hangs off of its support poles. "Inside one of the hangars?"  

"If it's in a hangar, there's no way we'll be able to get in to see it," Nakaoka mumbles, giving into defeat before they've even made it inside. How very typical of him.

"I've broken into this place to collect parts for my car," Ryuji says, stepping up to the fence beside Takeishi. He shifts his backpack around to the front and digs through it until he finds his portable laser torch. "Security is an old guy who falls asleep watchin' the monitors and outdated patrol robots. I don't think the keypads on the hangars work and even if they do I'm sure I can disable them. They're simple coded panels."  

"Since when did you become a hacker?" Takeishi challenges, though there's a touch of admiration in his voice.  

"Not that kind of code, like a number combination. It's less hackin' and more... Cuttin' wires."  Ryuji grabs hold of one of the fence supports. He flicks the torch on and cuts through the small pieces of metal holding the fence up. The panel collapses the rest of the way down into the grass and the three boys clamber over it. Ryuji breathes a sigh of relief. They're finally in, all that's left is to find the ship. "Stay close to me and keep your voices down."

The three of them make slow but steady progress through the shipyard, avoiding motion sensors and cameras. Ryuji knows the layout of the complex like the back of his hand and he continues to lead his friends onward. They've almost reached the long line of hangars when Ryuji hears the unsteady approach of a security robot. He motions for the other two to get down and follow him up under one of the Old-Earth vehicles. They're packed together like sardines and every time Ryuji shifts he's poked by bramble weeds that grew up under the truck's front end.  

Nakaoka's nervous breathing stirs the hair on the back of Ryuji's neck. It's the only sound outside of the approaching patrol robot. The tread on its tires is almost non-existent and it bounces violently over every crack and dip in the concrete. It stops beside their hiding place and begins to run it's scanner down over the side of the vehicle. Blue light beams down into their eyes and Nakaoka stops breathing entirely. The robot lets out a soft crackle of static before turning to wheel away.  

"This is a bad idea. We should leave." Nakaoka insists as the three of them crawl free of the undercarriage of the truck.  

Ryuji resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead offering words of encouragement, "We're almost there. It'll be another half hour before the robots make it back over here."  

"We can't go back," Takeishi adds, though his words are anything but soothing. "You can't wuss out on us now. Not when we're this close. Grow a pair already!"  

"Come on," Ryuji is tempted to ditch them both, tired of their theatrics, but Takeishi is right for once. They've come too far and there's no going back. They begin scoping out the hangars, peering in small side windows to check the inside for the ship. They're almost to the last one when Ryuji finally spots it, an unmistakable outline. Grinning ear to ear, he waves to his friends and they join him at the window. "In here!"

"No way," Takeishi laughs, slapping Ryuji jovially on the back. "I didn't think we were gonna find it."  

"Kinda pissed that you two doubted me."  

"Let's get in there to get a closer look."  

"I'm on it." Ryuji slips around the side of the hangar to the entry door while Takeishi and Nakaoka keep watch. It doesn't take him long to pry the panel off so that he can access the wires. He snips through the alarm wires and then gets to work on the ones that control the lock. He shifts them from connection to connection until he hears the lock click open inside the door. "Guys, come on."  

"Sakamoto, you're such a badass." Takeishi raves as they enter and the compliment fills Ryuji's chest with pride. He's the first one who approaches the cruiser. He runs his fingers admiringly over its sleek navy blue paint. The chrome accents along the front and sides are gleaming, perfect mirrors that reflect Ryuji's wonder-filled eyes. The other boys join him and the three of them circle the cruiser like sharks, drooling over every last detail. "Alright, now that we've looked at it, let's start it up."  

"Whoa, what?" Ryuji glanced at Takeishi, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "What do you mean start it up?"  

"Well you're good at hot-wiring things, right? So get in there and start it up."  

"For real? I can hotwire the crappy hover cars parked in town, but this is a really high-class ship. It's got to have a whole computer devoted to an alarm and protection system," He says it as if he doesn't already know. He does know. He knows everything about it.  

"C'mon, Sakamoto. I know you lay in bed at night fapping to ship schematics."  

"The hell?!"  

"Jerkin' it to all those Captain Kidd posters you've got.”

"Takeishi, I swear-..."  

"Moaning his name when you cum."  

"I'll do it if you shut up," Ryuji growls. He swings his backpack down to the ground and kneels over it. He knows there's nothing in his bag that could possibly work on such an advanced ship. He's got to at least try for the sake of his dignity. It isn't enough for Takeishi that Ryuji brought them to the shipyard and broke into the hangar, no, he's always got to push things too far.  

"Ryuji, don't." Nakaoka implores him. "Guys, this is stupid. We should go. There's no way Ryuji could hotwire a craft like this."  

"Let him work." Takeishi snaps, beginning an argument between the two. Ryuji ignores them as he approaches the stunt ship, heart pounding with nervous anticipation. He never dreamed he would ever see it up close and in person and it's better than any photo he's ever seen. He lightly runs his hand over the lock panel, surprised when it opens up to reveal-... An Old-Earth style key lock? This isn't what Ryuji's expecting.  

Most high-class ships and cars are programmed with fancy identification software. Usually, that means voice recognition or palm and iris scanners. To see something so archaic on Captain Kidd's stunt ship is both amusing and fortuitous. Ryuji can pick old style car locks without even having to think about it. He pulls his tools from his bag and gets to it. He presses his head against the hull, listening for the pins inside the lock.  

"He's got this," Takeishi whispers, earning a sharp look from Ryuji.  

"Don't talk," He commands, straining his ears to move the final pin out of the way. The lock clicks and then turns and with a soft whoosh of air, the door to the ship begins to fold down. Ryuji's eyes bulge inside his head as he realizes what he's done. The lights inside the cruiser flick on, bright white LEDs that make the interior shine like the gates of heaven. Without even thinking about it, Ryuji steps forward to climb the stairs and enter the craft.

Takeishi and Nakaoka bumble up after him, but he hardly notices that they're there. His wonder and excitement have dimmed upon seeing the craft's interior. Although the outside of the ship for all the world resembles the trick craft, the inside is that of a basic hover car. It's even got cup holders and a console. It dawns on Ryuji that Captain Kidd's trick ship likely isn't street legal. The vehicle they're sitting in now is either his civilian car or a really really good fake that someone made.  

"It's not the right one," Ryuji explains lamely, turning to glance over his shoulders at his friends. Nakaoka is wearing a similar mask of disenchantment, but Takeishi on the other hand-... Anger flares to life inside of Ryuji's chest, he realizes he's been baited. "You knew."

"C'mon Sakamoto. You didn't actually think that Captain Kidd would drive his stunt ship into town, didya?" Takeishi gloats, his grin wide with amusement. Sometimes Ryuji wonders why they're friends. Why does he even bothers spending time with someone who acts the way Takeishi does? It's likely all close proximity, they certainly wouldn't have met by any other means. "My dad says Captain Kidd's got a regular hover car made up all nice like his stunt ship. I knew he'd probably park it out here."  

"You're such a friggen asshole."  

"I never said it was the actual ship, you just assumed that."  

"You brought us out here for this?!" Even Nakaoka's upset, a rarity for him. Normally he's immune to all the usual bullshit that Ryuji and Takeishi drag him through. It makes Ryuji feel even worse knowing that his own anger is justified in Nakaoka. "Come on, Ryuji. Let's go."  

"Yeah. Right behind you," Ryuji says, following Nakaoka down out of the ship, or rather, the hover car. He gathers his tools and throws them back into his bag with a satisfying use of force. They clink together as they hit the bottom of the bag and settle. "C'mon Takeishi. Get out of there. We're leaving."

"You're not gonna try to crank this thing up?" Takeishi asks, oblivious to the sour mood of the other two.  

"No! I'm not! Now get outta there!"  

Takeishi pouts as he climbs down the stairs. Ryuji ignores him. He seals the car door back up and starts for the hangar exit, eager to be out and on his way back home. Once they're outside again, he can breathe better. The cool night air calms his nerves a bit. Overhead the stars glimmer and the twin moons shine like the eyes of a cat. It's beautiful in a way Ryuji can't always describe and looking up at it takes the last bit of the edge off. He's still disappointed but it's less biting than it was inside the hangar. That is until Takeishi opens his mouth again.

"You're both being a couple of little bitches about all this," He goads. Ryuji bristles with newfound anger. He tosses his bag onto the ground and brings his hands up to slam against Takeishi's chest. It knocks him against the side of the hangar. The metal rattles and echos across the shipyard.  

"Find your own way home," Ryuji seethes, hissing the words through clenched teeth. Takeishi opens his mouth like he's going to say something else, but Ryuji doesn't allow it. He slams his fist against the hangar, knuckles making contact with the hard metal. It sends a shockwave of pain up his arm but he doesn't care. Takeishi flinches away from both the action and the sound, his eyes wide with disbelief. Ryuji shoves away from the wall and snatches his bag up. This time when they turn to leave, they're not immediately followed.

"Should'a hit me like your daddy hits you!" Takeishi taunts, but the two of them ignore him. The vein in the side of Ryuji's forehead is pulsing and he feels lightheaded. When they're out of sight of Takeishi he stops for a moment to catch his breath.  

"Sorry. You shouldn't'a had to see that," Ryuji apologizes, glancing sidelong. Nakaoka offers him a worn smile.  

"He deserves it," Nakaoka concludes, shrugging his shoulders. "For real though, let's go. I don't want to get caught in here. My mom'll kill me."  

"Mine too."

The two of them set off together in comfortable silence, following the same path they took to get in to get back out. They're almost to the fence line when they hear approaching footsteps. It's followed by the sound of tires bouncing over the cracked concrete. Ryuji throws his head over his shoulder to see Takeishi barreling after them. There's a security robot hot on his tail. Only once has Ryuji ever found himself in a similar situation. He knows from experience that the security bots can outrun a human. There's no way Takeishi is going to make it to the fence in time.  

He knows he's going to regret this, but-...  

"Take this and get outta here," Ryuji snaps, tossing his bag into Nakaoka's arms. He gives the other boy's shoulder a firm push. Nakaoka does what he does best and takes off. Ryuji spins around in the opposite direction to go back for Takeishi. He's doing a fair job of throwing the bot off, ducking between hover cars to cut off its straight forward path. Despite that, the machine is still closing the distance between them. Ryuji sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles, catching both the bot and Takeishi's attention.  

"Go long!" Ryuji calls out, gesturing towards the far end of the shipyard.

"There's another downed fence that way!" Takeishi throws up a fist in acknowledgment and breaks out running. He's a few aisles down from Ryuji, zigzagging a path through the parked cars. It's a good method to prevent the bot from gaining distance on a straightaway. So far it's working, the bot only has ground capabilities and it can't keep up with Takeishi's random changes in direction. Ryuji for his part races ahead, keeping his eyes out for more security bots. They've almost reached the fence line again and the opening that waits there for them.  

Takeishi's been doing track since middle school and it shows in the way he runs, his stride long and practiced. He catches up to Ryuji and the two of them push on towards the fence. For a moment they catch each other's eye and share twin smiles of amusement. This is easily the craziest thing they've done to date. This Takeishi is the one Ryuji is friends with. He's briefly reminded of that as they come upon the end of their shared row. They dash around the side of the last hover car and almost crash into the fence.  

"No effin' way!" Ryuji curses, staring incredulously at the brand new panel of fencing. "This thing's been down for months! When did they replace it?!"

"Worry about that later! Where else can we get out at?!" cries Takeishi as he checks over his shoulder for the bot. "Shit, Ryuji we gotta go, man! There's two of them back there!"  

When Ryuji looks, sure enough, two security robots are coming down the aisles towards them. In the distance, Ryuji can make out a third. He turned to Takeishi, his stomach clenching nervously at what he's about to do.  

"Takeishi, climb! I'll help you over. Then I can go back down to where we came in," Without thinking he kneels down and offers himself as a foothold to his friend. Takeishi stares at him for a heartbeat, eyebrows furrowed with indecision. They both know its unlikely that Ryuji will be able to make it out. "Please man, just go."  

"I'm sorry," Takeishi apologizes as he steps onto Ryuji's back. He hoists himself up and over the fence, turning around in time to offer a mournful look. Ryuji doesn't have time to do more than wave him off, the bots are closing in around him. As a last-ditch effort, Ryuji takes off back towards the hangars, hoping he might be able to get inside of one to hide. He's almost there when his foot catches in a crack in the pavement. His body shoots forward and lands against the hard ground, skinning his palms and forearms in the process. For a moment he lays winded, trying to will himself to get back up.  

The security bots surround him, having picked up a fourth on the way. They began to run their scanners over him, bright blue beams of light that shock the back of his eyelids. He raises up a hand to cover his eyes against their glow. There's a soft crackle of static that passes between them like they're having a private conversation in robot. One of the bots scans him a second time for good measure and then it begins to speak.  

Ryuji Sakamoto, age 16. No prior offenses. Citizen, please remain where you are. An officer has been dispatched to this location and will arrive shortly. Please do not leave the scene, as this could be taken as a sign of an attempt to resist arrest. There are no charges currently being brought against you. However, I will begin the Mirandizing process should this incident be taken to court in the future. In accordance with local laws, you have the right to remain silent-...

Ryuji pushes himself up onto his knees, listening to the security robot's electronic voice. His pulse pounds at the side of his forehead and he thinks for a moment about how fucked he currently is. He's going to be arrested. The moment that gets back to his father- Ryuji isn't sure what will happen then, but it knows that it won't be good. He debates on trying to run again, but the bots have already logged his identification code. There's a slim chance that they haven't yet transmitted it, but it's a long shot even then.  

In the distance, he can hear sirens.  

[murumokirby360]

GTA IV - WKTT Radio: Just or Unjust [Episode 1] Part 5

Chuck: You know the deal, Judge. I have to agree, or I'll never get laid again!

Laurie: We have an equal household, Your Honor. Equal. Equality. He wears tampons whenever I do so that we may both experience the same burden when I'm on my flow.

Judge Grady: Equality? Give me back that boat, woman! Let me guess who's at work bustin' his ass all day. Let me guess who makes the most money. I know. It's Chuck. It's the man! You know who's made the most money throughout history? The man. Who have been the great leaders? Men. Maybe you had Cleopatra, but Egyptians laid them triangles, tetrahedrons and shit. A triangle is not manly. Who fought the best wars? Men. [clapping] Who makes the best murderers? Men. Who invented the plague? Men. We've got it all, bitch. We run this show. And I don't give a fuck who knows it! So what if he wants to come home and spend time online with his guild and pleasure elves, running around with his Orc friends. Let him.

Laurie: Well, family and our children are the most important. Our children depend on us. We should be protecting and coddling our children, never letting them out of our sights, keeping electronic tabs on them at all times, making them paranoid and neurotic. It's our duty! Children are our future!

[romantlcdemon]

I Know I’m Wrong, But I Can’t Help Believing

Aizawa Shouta/Present Mic (Yamada Hizashi) ; TRAITOR AU ; Traitor!Present Mic

Link: Read it on AO3

Word count: 3630

Summary: 

 “Yamada Hizashi.” “Huh?” “That will be your name for the entirety of this operation. You best get accustomed to it.” 

He was born a villain. He was given both a mission and a new identity. This fic follows the life of “Yamada Hizashi” leading up to his exposure as the traitor of UA.

30 years ago.

He doesn’t remember the start of it. Not that it really mattered. His parents had been villains, good ones too.

25 years ago.

He grew up knowing villains the way other kids knew heros. Indoctrination is a funny thing, always a double-edged sword. Of course, villains did tend to be more disagreeable people than heros, and internal conflicts were common-- but his parents didn’t neglect him. They protected him well. He lived a good childhood, and grew into a bubbly personality with an enthusiasm that seemed untameable.

22 years ago.

His parents died. He had no extended family, and was instead taken in by the villain organization that his parents had belonged to for years. He learned toughness. He learned what it meant to survive.

15 years ago. Mission start.

“Yamada Hizashi.” “Huh?” “That will be your name for the entirety of this operation. You best get accustomed to it.” “Ah… Yes sir…” He stood in an office, facing opposite of the voice that addressed him from behind computer screen static. There was a slight echo in the tall, cold, room, and each sentence was echoed faintly back to him, as if the building itself was some kind of comic book villain’s assistant, nodding and grinning feverishly and repeating every word out its boss’s mouth. Well. Every place has its charm. Just a week prior he’d been alerted of the new mission he would be undertaking, and in the days since he hadn’t gone ten minutes without hearing a new comment on the topic. “Damn lucky kid. You realize how easy you’re gettin’ off with this? While we’re out bustin’ our asses--” “Shut up, shithead. You wouldn’t be able to last a day on undercover work. Constantly gettin’ asked questions you don’t know the answer to, comin’ up with lies on the spot. This kid here, he’s clever. He’s savin’ our asses doin’ this.” “Why’s someone this young being sent on a mission as dangerous as this, though…? How can we trust that he won’t crack under the pressure? He’s not very experienced, you know.” “No, no, it’s because he’s this young that he’s doing this. Haven’t you heard? They’re gonna enroll him in UA. We’re growing an artificial hero from the ground up. What is it those whackjob teachers call them… Eggs? We’re hatching a hero egg. It’s genius, really.” Although the constant talk was annoying, he couldn’t deny that it was all perfectly true. He’d never had a say in the matter from the start. He was the only one under the age of sixteen in the organization, and transferring someone in as a second-year already put them in the position of an outlier, so that was key. His quirk was combat-oriented and he was talented in controlling it-- again, key, because admitting someone upon basis of recommendation would have increased the complexity of the mission tenfold. Now, he received one final comment. “Today you have been made a vital piece of a master plan. You have been entrusted with a great deal of responsibility, but I have faith that you will deliver. Do not prove me wrong.” “Yes, sir.” He bowed his head and turned to exit the room, but was stopped when the voice sounded again. “What is your name, again?” He paused and took a deep breath. “Yamada… Yamada Hizashi.”

14 years ago. First goal: Admittance to UA. Complete.

He poked the mass of dark hair that rested on the desk beside him with the eraser end of his pencil. “Psst.” Five seconds of silence. “Psst.” Five more. “Psssssttt--” “What in God’s name do you want?” A single bloodshot eye glared at him from behind thick locks. “No no, it’s not God’s name that I want, I was wondering what yours is.” He flashed a beaming smile to rival that of a toothpaste model. The glare intensified before returning its focus back to the desk, and he almost thought he wouldn’t receive an answer when a muted grumble reached his ears. “Aizawa Shouta. I’m going back to sleep now.” “Wahh, cool name!! I’m Yamada Hizashi!!"

13 years ago. Second goal: Fit in. Be amiable with members of your class. Complete.

“THE VOICE HERO! PRESENT MIC!!!” He didn’t hesitate a second before scrawling those words in all capital letters on the hand-held blackboard in front of him. He added a few stars around the borders then sat back and stared at it contentedly before stealing a glance at his (self proclaimed) friend next to him. When he saw Aizawa’s board as blank as his expression, Yamada’s jaw dropped in shock. “You still haven’t decided on a name?!!” Not bothering to look back at him, Aizawa droned, “I’m not planning on appearing in any media, so it doesn’t really matter to me.” “All right… Then, how about…” Mic pensively tapped his chin with the end of his pencil, the eraser bouncing off his skin. “ERASERHEAD!!” “Fine, fine, whatever…” Mic scooted his chair over and leaned in close as he watched Aizawa draw the letters with surprisingly neat handwriting. “Ooh… Does this make us matching? I mean. Not really matching, but, we’ll both have hero names that I thought up, so that’s matching in a way, isn’t it?” He turned his head to look at Aizawa, only to realize he was nearly nose-to-nose with his classmate, and for a moment, they stared wide-eyed at each other with equal expressions of surprise. The moment was short-lived, and Aizawa’s surprise quickly shifted to annoyance. He clenched his teeth and hissed, “Do you mind?” Mic couldn’t stop two short giggles from escaping his mouth. “No, I don’t mind, but I’ll back up for your sake anyways.” He returned to his desk, but not without a wink.

12 years ago. Third goal: Become a hero. Complete.

“ERASER!!” He puffed out his chest and pointed his index finger at Aizawa with incredible mock conviction, striking a pose in his new leather jacket and tight vinyl pants, his other hand still toying with the large speaker system now wrapped uncomfortably snug around his neck. “How do I look?! As a pro hero. Wonderful, dashing, right?!” Aizawa, his attention on the paperwork in front of him which would officialize his status as a pro hero, mumbled the reply “No different from always.” The room went silent save for the scratch of Aizawa’s pen against paper, and Mic’s hand fell to his side. Noticing the change in atmosphere, Aizawa paused and looked up to see a faint pink decorating Mic’s cheeks. “Wh-- I meant-- like an idiot. No different from always, you still look like a dunce. Not dashing in the least,” Aizawa hurriedly returned his eyes to the paper, ignoring the way Mic’s eyebrows had raised, and that dumb smile that had just begun to form on his lips, the same smile he always had when Aizawa gave him a compliment, intentional or not. That smile was making an appearance more and more often, lately. Aizawa feigned a cough and brought his arm up to his face, covering the blush that had begun to appear.

10 years ago. Fourth goal: Attain a staff position at UA. Complete.

“SHOUTA!!” He yelled as the apartment door opened, and promptly rushed in, shoving a hand-sized card in Aizawa’s face. “What…” “LOOK AT IT!!” He furiously shook the card, it’s surface tapping against Aizawa’s nose. “How the hell am I supposed to look at anything when you’re waving it like that?” He snatched the card out of his hands, and walked to the kitchen, where he sat on a stool and placed the card on the counter, inspecting it. UA STAFF TEACHER HERO DEPARTMENT PRESENT MIC Aizawa’s eyes widened, and he ran the tip of his finger over the UA insignia printed in the top corner. “When did you…” “Last month!! There was an opening! And I was one of the first applicants, and I got accepted last week, but I wanted to keep it a surprise, and today I finally got the ID…” Aizawa turned and looked at Mic. At his proud smile and eager posture, the way his gloved hands were clenched into excited fists at his side. He couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but he knew the way they were crinkling at the corners, bright green irises seemingly sparkling. Mic looked at him too, and saw the way he didn’t blink when those tired eyes scanned him. It was something he’d noticed he’d do when he saw a cute cat too, or when he stared at his favorite painting in the art museum on the other side of the city. It was a beautiful way to look at things. Mic wondered if what he saw was the same thing he did when he looked in the mirror-- a fake, a rat, a villain. He hoped he never saw it. “What?” “H-..Huh?” Mic shook his head, coming back to reality. “Your face got awful serious all the sudden.” Aizawa blinked, his eyebrows lowered. The room was silent for a moment. “Got the shits again?” Mic’s mouth dropped open, then screwed up into a twisted cringe. “THAT WAS TWO WEEKS AGO!! AND IT WAS BECAUSE OF THAT DAMN TAKEOUT!! I TOLD YOU THAT RESTAURANT WAS SKETCHY, I DON’T KNOW WHY YOU LIKE IT SO MUCH!!”

5 years ago. Strike one: Become emotionally involved. Complete.

“Eraserhead, huh…? Congratulations.” Mic twirled the ring around in his hand, rubbing the engraving on the inside. /Always./ He took a pensive breath, slipping the ring on to his finger only to take it off again and resume fidgeting. “... Yeah. Thank you.” The ceremony had been beautiful, outdoors, with just enough breeze from the ocean to take the edge off the summer sun shining bright and golden overhead. Clean white suits, flower petals on the grass. Mic had organized the wedding in its aesthetics, on the condition that Aizawa organized the guest list. Mic had held those rough and scarred hands in his, looked into his dark brown eyes and told him, “I will love you forever.” In that moment, the words were endlessly sincere. Mic’s eyes saw nothing but him, his head thought of nothing but him. A blissful tunnel vision, now torn apart by the accomplice sitting on the worn couch in front of him. Torn, because the man, sneering crookedly and tapping his cigarette over an ashtray, was not congratulating him on his marriage. He was congratulating him on ensnaring himself inextricably deeper into his mission, into his very own lies and tricks and illusions. The way his glossy eyes squinted in the low light spelled a phrase unsaid: “Good fucking luck.”

1 year ago. Strike two: Stray from the objective. Complete.

“Mic.” “Mic.” “M--” Mic jumped, blinking rapidly. A low groan escaped his throat, which was throbbing, raw and sore. He tried to move his hand, and was met with a sharp pain shooting up his arm. Where was he? “Oh thank god…” Midnight sighed deeply, letting go a breath she’d been holding. “I told you he’d be fine. What, did you think I’d lie to you? You think I’m new to this?” Recovery girl replied in a tone of disbelief, quietly shaking her head. Oh. So that’s where he was. That’s what all the blurry white was-- the ceiling of the UA infirmary. He tried moving his hand again, only to have someone else’s cover it, and gently hold it in place. “No, Hizashi. Not yet.” A voice, deep and soft, murmured beside him. Mic turned his head, and found that a stiff, scratchy material restricted the movement of his neck. A brace. “You knocked yourself out pretty good, Mister. I don’t know what you were expecting taking on a villain twice your size all on your own. He was a monster. Not that you’d remember after that bump on your head, though.” It’s true, Mic didn’t remember fighting him. But he remembered the events before. The words that had reached his ears through the grapevine, that his organization would soon be sending an attack to breach the walls of UA. The cold, dense feeling in his gut, the anxiety shaking his fingers for days before he glanced out the window and saw a familiar face walking on the street below him. How had his legs run that fast? His mind had been left three steps behind. Perhaps his sense of pain had, too. The face he’d recognized was that of one of the most powerful grunts he knew, with a muscle manipulation quirk that gave him incredible mass and strength. Mic was no longer confused as to why a bone-deep ache was currently radiating through his entire body. The pain didn’t matter so much after he blinked again, though, when he saw Aizawa’s face mere inches away from his own, his eyebrows knit together in concern, the corners of his mouth curling upwards slowly as Mic met his eyes. “You’re a real idiot, you know.” No kidding. He’d just sent a member of his own association to the slammer. In a dark twist of irony, he’d committed a betrayal within a betrayal and deliberately shut down another mission-- and by extension, compromised his as well. This wasn’t pretty. Well, the situation wasn’t. Aizawa was.

1 month ago. Strike three (You’re out.): Reveal mission. Complete.

“Traitor…” he muttered, inaudible at first. “There’s gotta be a traitor in our midst.” Why did he say that? Why? Even now, he can’t answer that question with confidence. The knowledge of what he was doing, of who he was, was a constant storm above him, raining and pouring. Increasingly each day seemed like monsoon season, and the waters had now reached dangerous levels-- perhaps this was a cry for help. But what help? There’s no lifeguard to pull him out of this one. This guilt isn’t a swimming pool, it’s an ocean. That day the water made a crack in the dam, and before he could register the words coming out, he was defending the hypothesis that would mean the termination of his mission. Maybe that’s what he wanted. Even then, though, he’d had some silly illusion in his head that there was a possible future in which that termination wasn’t something ugly and blood-soaked. That it would just be over, and he could go back home and hang up his jacket and leave the memories outside the door. He would walk down the hall and into the living room and see his Prince Charming laying on the couch with his eyes closed, a hand absentmindedly petting the cat who lay on his belly. Just like that, they’d live happily ever after. But in truth, he knew that he was no star-crossed pure protagonist. He was a villain. And there are no happy endings waiting for him.

1 week ago.

He knew it was coming, and soon. He never returned the looks, but he felt the stares on his back, everywhere he went. He didn’t hear their voices, but he knew the words they spoke when they turned away, what all the topics of the recent meetings had been about, and why his attendance had not been requested. It was inevitable, and perhaps that knowledge was what hurt the most, despite the fact that he’d known it from the start. All things come to an end, for better or for worse. For better or for worse, he still came home that night and smiled with the same toothy grin he’d flashed when they first met eyes all those years ago. The air felt just as heavy in his home as it did everywhere else, but he ignored it, the same way one ignores the pain of a wound as they utter their last words. “I love you, Shouta…” The man in his arms did not reply, but Mic didn’t mind. He knew they both understood the state of the present, and the path of the future. But now, in this moment, all that mattered is that he could still feel his warmth, his thick hair, and scarred skin. His heart beating, strong and unfaltering. It reassured Mic. Even when he was gone, as long as that heart kept beating… That would be okay. Mic would be okay with that. “Do you know that? I love you so much.”

1 day ago.

He left everything that day. Ungraded papers, happy birthday cards. Birth certificate, forged. His UA student uniform, that he still kept in a box in the closet. The speaker system he’d spent a whole year building and installing in every room, so the music never got far away. The leather jackets he’d been collecting since he was seventeen. Two rings on the nightstand. What did he care? Why would he miss it? All those documents, cards, certificates and records were all written with that fucking fake name. But somewhere along the way, it had started to feel real. Not when his teacher had called it out and he had answered, not when he had wrote it a thousand times and repeated it a thousand more. It was when Aizawa Shouta said his name that it sounded real. Maybe it was because he’d wantedthat name to be his. Something like, ‘If that’s the name he’s calling, then that’s me.’ It was all too real. A mask that became part of his skin. And now he had to rip it off. “... Hizashi…?” Aizawa rubbed his face, and his eyes cracked open to look at the face of the man kneeling by his bedside. He smiled and gently shook his head, placing a hand on Aizawa’s cheek. With his thumb he lightly brushed the corner of Aizawa’s lips, and looked into those deep brown eyes, glazed over with sleepiness. It was 3am. When Aizawa woke up in the morning, this memory should seem like a dream. He wished so desperately that every memory could seem that way, that he could wake up tomorrow with no clear recollection, only the faint notion that /perhaps/ something had occurred in those days past, but nothing of great consequence, that all of this would fade into nothing and he would continue on his way unaffected by the rest. For Aizawa, at least this moment would be a dream. For him, the memory would be burned like a brand in his mind.

10 minutes ago. Mission end.

“Yamada Hizashi.” “Yes.” “That has been your name for… how long, was it?” “Fifteen years, sir.” “Ah… Truly a long time. And you held out quite well.” The voice was momentarily muddled by television static. The warped light of the screen manipulated the shadows of the room, and the pupils of his eyes, unprotected by sunglasses, shrunk and dilated in alternation to adjust. “Excuse me.” The static settled. “Now… You have made mistakes. You are more aware of that than even I am.” The voice paused. If it was to gauge a reaction, then there was nothing to find, because he didn’t flinch, didn’t shudder, didn’t clench his fists. Green eyes stared unblinkingly forward, waiting for him to continue. “However, I don’t think any punishment will be necessary. The work you have completed has allowed great advances in our organization. Advances that you have seen yourself…” The image of Aizawa’s scar flashed behind his eyes. “... and some you have yet to see. I understand you have not come with much, today. And readjusting will not be easy. But I assure you, living in reality has its perks as well.”

Now.

“Good afternoon, Present M--” “That’s not my name.” Kurogiri paused, and looked at him for a moment from his place behind the counter. His dark face betrayed no emotion, as usual, but it was clear what was going through his mind. He took a seat on the barstool at the end, put his elbows on the counter, and put his head in his hands. “You’re wearing your hair down today.” Kurogiri remarked as he resumed his task polishing glassware. “Mic was the one who put his hair up.” He didn’t move his eyes from the counter. Even without looking, he was aware of the gaze he was receiving. Boy, had he gotten good at feeling stares. “Perhaps it would be best to cut it.” He didn’t respond for a while, just silently ran his fingers through his hair. It was soft, that’s what Aizawa would always say. That had been his excuse for petting it and playing with it, as if he were more a cat than the one they already had. His fingers twitched and paused. “Don’t wanna use my quirk anymore either.” He felt the stare shifting. “Try as you might, that may be unavoidable. Your role now is the symbol of UA’s internal weakness. One way or another, you’ll be made to stand at the front lines. And regardless of your unique status, missions will continue to be assigned, and you will be expected to complete them, just like the rest of us.” He switched to rubbing the bridge of his nose. He felt his breath hissing against his palms. “What you did wasn’t easy, and we commend you for that. But it is over now.” A drink was set in front of him, and the glass hit the counter with a ‘clink’. “Today marks the start of something new.” His arm swung out and struck the drink, and the glass hit the floor with a shattering symphony, cascading cracks and snaps bouncing their echos off the hard brick walls. The sound of something that was, in the past, a beautiful and carefully crafted object, transforming into its present form, ugly and dangerous. Scattered across the floor, the broken glass caught the light and sparkled, as if offering a knowing wink. “Someone new.”

[tygerseye]

Obscenity?

Bulworth: Obscenity? 

The rich is getting richer and richer and richer while the middle class is getting more poor making billions and billions and billions of bucks well my friend if you weren't already rich at the start, well, that situation just sucks cause the richest mother fucker in five of us is getting ninety fuckin eight percent of it and every other motherfucker in the world is left to wonder where the fuck we went with it.

Obscenity?

I'm a Senator, I gotta raise $10,000 a day every day I'm in Washington. I ain't getting it in South Central, I'm gettin it in Beverly Hills so I'm votin from them in the Senate the way they want me too and-and-and I'm sending them my bills

But we got babies in South Central dying as young as they do in Peru.

We got public schools that are nightmares...

We got a Congress that ain't got a clue...

We got kids with submachine guns...

We got militias throwing bombs...

We got Bill (Clinton) just gettin all weepy...

We got Newt (Gingrich) blaming teenage moms...

We got factories closing down; where the hell did all the good jobs go? Well, I'll tell you where they went...

My contributors make more profits ... Hirin' kids in Mexico

Oh a brother can work in fast food If he can't invent computer games but what we used to call America that's going down the drains.

How's a young man gonna meet his financial responsibilities workin and motherfuckin Burger King? He ain't! And please don't even start with that school shit. There aint no education going on up in that motherfucker.

Obscenity? 

We got a million brothers in prison, I mean, the walls are really rockin but you can bet your ass they'd all be out If they could pay for Johnny Cochran. The constitution is supposed to give them an equal chance, well, that ain't gonna happen for sure.

Ain't it time to take a little from the rich motherfucker and give a little to the poor? I mean, those boys over there on the monitor they want a government smaller and weak but they be speakin for the richest 20 percent when they pretend they're defendin the meek.

Now, shit, fuck, cocksucker, that's the real obscenity black folks livin with every day: Trying to believe a mothefuckin word Democrats and Republicans say.

Obscenity? I'm Jay Billington Bulworth And I've come to say the Democratic party's got some shit to pay! It's gonna pay it in the ghetto. It's gonna pay it in the...

Reporter: Are you saying the Democratic party doesn’t care about the African American Community? Bulworth: Isn’t that obvious?

You know the guy in the booth who's talking to you in that tiny little earphone? He's afraid the guys at network are gonna tell him that he's through if he lets a guy keep talking like I'm talking to you...

Cause the corporations got the networks and they get to say who gets to talk about the country and who's crazy today.

I would cut to a commercial if you still want this job because you may not be back tomorrow with this cooperate mob. Cut to commercial, cut to commercial, cut to commercial. 

Ok ok I got a simple question that I'd like to ask of this network that pays you for performing this task... How come they got the airwaves? They're the peoples aren't they? Wouldn't they be worth 70 billion to the public today? If some money-grubbin Congress didn't give them away for big campaign money? 

It's hopeless you see... If you're runnin for office with out no TV...If you don't get big money you get a defeat; corporations and broadcasters make you dead meat. 

You been taught in this country there's speech that is free but free don't get you no spots on TV.

If you want to have senators not on the take then give them free air time they won't have to fake! 

Telecommunications is the name of the beast that, that, that, that, that's eating up the world from the west to the east. The movies, the tabloids, TV and magazines they tell us what to think and do and all our hopes and dreams. All this information makes America phat but if the company's outta the country how American is that? 

But we got Americans with families that can't even buy a meal! Ask a brother who's been downsized if he's getting any deal...Or a white boy bustin ass til they put him in his grave... you ain't gotta be a black boy to be livin like a slave.

Rich people have always stayed on top by dividing white people from colored people but white people got more in common with colored people then they do with rich people.

We just gotta eliminate them. White people, black people, brown people, yellow people, get rid of 'em all.  All we need is a voluntary, free spirited, open-ended program of procreative racial deconstruction.

Everybody just gotta keep fuckin' everybody til they're all the same color?

- Bulworth (1998)

Written, produced, screenplay, starring Warren Beatty