#this started gaining traction and it felt weird to not make it more obvious this is from a pro palestine protest once i knew

[sheriffofmagic]

new favorite ally beardsley pic just dropped (edit: for context @froginakettle and @sugaldean both shared this is from a pro-palestine protest)

FREE PALESTINE

[kuipersorbit]

politics dont work on dsmp like you think they do: a badly written analysis

ok ive been seeing posts about techno being ancap because he teamed with quackity and purpled so I thought Id write something out to get my thoughts out there. (not only those, those are just the ones that felt like a punch to the gut) nobodys gonna see this but none of my friends are into this fandom (understandably) that i can talk to so here we go!!!

warning, this is p long!! there are 3 sections:

Anarchy v. democracy (differences to real life)

tubbo v. schlatt: minecraft governments

specific types of posts that we hate to see/dont make sense

Anarchy v. democracy (differences to irl)

So the fact that there are differences from minecraft rp to irl is pretty obvious, but i still see people talking like its not so heres some points. I see a lot of people defend c!tubbo and lmanburg for making a government, but I dont think they see the imact of government (even democracy) on the dsmp because it works for countries irl. so here you go: theres like 20 active members on dsmp. only half are in lmanburg.

why does this matter? because (as techno has mentioned in a couple of streams) thats a very small amount of people. lmanburg as a country could operate as an equal nation, as they could all fit at one table to talk. literally. Imagine someone in your household or in your friendgroup declaring themselves president and then actually having the power to make laws and exile people. weird right? It doesnt matter if the friend is well-liked or elected, they still have the power to control everyone else with no repercussions. Technoblade and Philzas perspective is this: nobody here should be given the power, because it always changes them and turns sour fast. they advocate for anarchy, which sounds crazy and violent, but what they really want is the friend group to be back on equal terms.

compare this to united states politics and then you open up a completely different can of worms. Those who argue for a system to hold people accountable and to make a system for orderly mass change are still justified. principles of anarchy built for large nations are still valid, but MUCH easier to achieve on a small minecraft server

tubbo v. schlatt: minecraft governments

SO. lets talk about tubbos rule. he seems to have good intentions at first, and is definitely not as bad as schlatt, but things start to go badly as he realizes he can get away with more and more. say we give him a by for exiling tommy because he was manipulated. (even though a government allows those systems to happen IN THE FIRST PLACE).

Technos execution is the first glaring red flag of his presidency. you could say that he was doing it as revege for?? two withers?? but then quackitys speech and the existence of a hit list immediately counter that. IF the execution was for JUSTICE they would have let him have a TRIAL. thats why its called the JUSTICE system. They have a pre-built courthouse and everything!! Another example of tubbos presidency souring is the destruction of phils house. they kept a man who constantly moves around in house arrest for the crime of?? being friends with someone?? as well as break his windows and loot his chests, the very same thing he condemned tommy and ranboo for. (ranboo is not innocent either btw, i have a whole nother rant about why i lowkey cant stand ranboos character, but thats for later.)

Not to mention pressuring ranboo to hurt people he didnt have qualms with, continuing to force a no-armor rule despite residents having reason to be wary, and selectively choosing who to be in his "cabinet", pushing people like Niki, who have been there since the beginning, to the side for QUACKITY of all people who has a very scuffed moral compass.

What did schlatt do again? he raised taxes, especially for niki (one of the only things he is very much at fault for), broke trees and buildings, enforced borders, killed tubbo, and exiled two of his competitors. Personally, I'd say tubbo and schlatt are equally bad here, schlatt just seems worse because he made his intentions known.

specific types of posts that we hate to see

we as in me. i hate to see em. Political compasses??? ew. bad. dsmp has only 20 people and no economy. (quackity wants to make one to gain power, purpled made a unsucessful real estate buisness for laughs early on.) People associating the syndicate/anarhcy with violence and chaos?? NO. BAD. they just want the friend group to be equal again. they just want a system where they cant be betrayed, ignored, and stepped on for no reason.

-extra snowchester point because this gets on my nerves. the syndicate was not expecting tubbo to be there. they did not go in any buildings without permission. they were very upfront about their goals and suspicions. not once was violence threatened, even after learning about nukes. also do not try me with "but techno has withers!!" EVERYONE can get withers. withers are a nuisance but destroy land maybe 4-5 blocks deep.

TUBBO and MANY OTHER SERVER MEMBERS have stolen and walked on technos land and he did nothing. He SAW tubbo, knew about connor, etc. and he did nothing. If youre upset about techno stepping foot on tubbos land, be upset at tubbo for doing the same to techno first.

conclusion

anarchy in a server is just "hey can we not?? dictate the lives of out friends??" and governments of ANY KIND have hurt people on all occasions. this is not the same irl. please know the difference.

IF YOU READ ALL THIS: holy fuck. thank you. this is my first long textpost here, i dont expect to get any traction or anything, i just wanted to put my thoughts in order.

[too-attached-to-fiction]

Car Wash

Masterlist here.

Word count: ~1300

A/N: I am fully aware that this is not a response to any of my requests but I really needed some Scott love and somehow managed to write more than I usually do so here have an ant man imagine. Working on stardew now, after that dbh and after that loki! Just needed a break from all the Loki love (though I promise that’ll come soon).

~~~

A loud shriek snapped you out of your daze as you opened the window over your kitchen sink. “Daddy!” The voice sounded like it belonged to a little girl.

You peered out the window to find your neighbor, Scott Lang, chasing a little girl with a hose spouting water. If it wasn’t so hot today, you’d be worried that she would catch a cold. San Francisco often jumped between bitter cold and pleasant weather (which was cold, but with sun).

The little girl had to be Scott’s daughter. He had mentioned her briefly when he first moved in next door; since then, you hadn’t spoken.

More delighted shrieks reached your ears and you closed your eyes, remembering when you and your father had done the same. When you opened them, you could see Scott’s face, his smile wide.

Throwing your hair up in a ponytail, you grabbed your keys and tucked your phone into your back pocket. Carefully, you made your way outside, approaching the pair.

Neither of them appeared to be entirely soaked, although his daughter seemed to have larger water stains all over her torso and leggings.

Scott set the hose down as he noticed you, his smile still bright.

“Hey, (Y/N)! This is Cassie, my daughter.” Cassie looked at you, a mischievous expression on her face.

“Hi. Just wanted to see what you two were doing.” You said, eying the faded red van. “I’m, um, cooking pasta tonight, if you want to come over.”

You weren’t sure what exactly possessed you to invite them over, but that’s what good neighbors did, right?

Good close neighbors. Maybe your offer was creepy.

“I mean, I know we don’t know each other very well and it’s probably one of your few nights with Cassie, but, um. You know.” You shifted your weight from one foot to the other nervously.

Scott tried not to jump at the offer too quickly. He’d been looking for a reason to talk to you for a while, but your paths never seemed to cross after he finished moving in. You stayed inside a lot of the time, and he was out of town at least every other week.

“Yeah! We’d love to, right, Peanut?” Scott said, looking for Cassie. “Peanut?” He turned his head.

Cassie popped out from behind the van with the hose in her hands, spraying her father right in the face, the same mischievous expression as earlier gracing her tiny features. “Boo!” She yelled, pausing briefly and then soaking him some more.

“Oh you are so going to get it-“ Scott started to chase after his daughter, the two going in circles around the vehicle.

“We’ll be there at six thirty!” Cassie called out as you were about to walk away. Scott paused his chasing to voice his agreement, and then they were at it again.

You laughed, watching them for a few minutes before waving goodbye, doubting they’d notice your absence.

After Cassie and Scott had worn themselves out, the two ended up taking showers, getting ready for dinner. Cassie wore a sundress while Scott opted for his usual button up. As Scott was finishing buttoning his shirt, Cassie sat on his bed, making sure it wasn’t lopsided.

“Daddy, do you like (Y/N)? I like her. She’s beautiful.” Scott froze a little at Cassie’s comments but kept his focus on his shirt.

“Can you be her boyfriend?” If Scott had a drink right now, he’d do a spit take. Was his budding crush really that obvious?

Cassie didn’t normally try to set up Scott with any women, at least, so far; for the most part, she stayed out of that part of his life. Women learning about Cassie opened up a can of worms he didn’t want. Plus, she didn’t know how she felt about the idea of having another mommy.

But you seemed different, and Cassie Lang was determined to figure out why.

“No, peanut, (Y/N) and I are only friends. She’s being very nice by letting us have dinner, so don’t make a mess, okay?” Scott glanced at his daughter, who was looking at him with a seemingly innocent smile.

“Okay.” She said, and that was that.

Back at your house, you rushed to clean up. Your hair was tied back again, and the skirt of your sundress flew up with every frantic turn you made.

By the time 6:30 came around, the house was neat and you were finishing up the pasta. The doorbell rang twice, and you could only assume Cassie was the culprit.

“Hey, come on in.” You greeted, holding the door open for them to step inside. “Everything’s ready to eat over here.”

Scott looked around as you led them to your dining room. Books seemed to be everywhere in your house; some that had to be children’s books because of their size.

The three of you took your seats at the table, and you served them, chatting with Cassie briefly about vegetables.

“So, (Y/N), what do you do?” Scott asked, and you swallowed down a bite of food before answering.

“I’m a children’s illustrator. I draw the pictures in books, sometimes I make the covers.”

“Did you draw for Brandon Brawley?” Cassie asked, perking up. You smiled, but shook your head.

“No, but I’m friends with that person. I do a lot of animals.” You said, hoping the little girl wouldn’t be disappointed by this. Instead, she smiled, clearly interested in the topic.

“I have a pet ant.” She said proudly, and you grinned. Children’s imaginations could always be so wild and amazing. If only you knew the reality. 

“That’s really cool, Cassie. What’s his name?”

“Anna!” Cassie said, practically beaming at this point.

Scott smiled at her, reaching to ruffle her hair. “No insects at the dinner table, remember, peanut?” Cassie sank in her seat but returned to eating only seconds later.

“So Scott, what do you do?” You focused your attention on him, swallowing down another bite of pasta.

“I run a security company called Ex-Con Security.” He looked at you nervously, but when you showed no signs of surprise, his shoulders relaxed. “We do security for special events, that sort of thing.”

“That’s progressive of you.” You flashed a smile at him.

“Yeah, we just started gaining some traction. It’s pretty awesome.” He sounded enthusiastic now. “We’re doing an event this Friday and we’re getting half a grand for it.”

“Wow, that’s amazing! Congrats.” You glanced at the empty plates on the table. “Anyone up for ice cream?”

“Yes!” Cassie cheered, and you stood up from the table, grabbing your plate. Scott stood as well, and you looked at him quizzically.

“Do you need any help?”

“You’re my guest, I can’t let you do that. It’s fine, really, just stay here.” You said, taking his plate and Cassie’s as well.

Still, Scott followed you into the kitchen, carrying the leftover pasta in his hands. You turned around to go back and instead found yourself face to face with him.

“Really, you didn’t need to do this.” You flushed, taking the pan from him. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

He hadn’t moved when you turned back to start packing the pasta. “I, um, actually wanted to get you alone.”

You raised your eyebrows but said nothing, carefully using the serving utensils to transfer the food. He glanced at you nervously.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while. I mean, I meant to when you moved in, and then I didn’t, and then I said I’d do it the next time I saw you and then I haven’t seen you at all lately until today.” He rambled. “I’m sorry, I hope I’m not making this weird.”

“You’re not, if it’s any consolation.” You spoke quietly, shutting the container of food closed. You finally looked up at him, your (E/C) meeting his brown ones.

“I’ll go out with you, Scott. Just give me a time and place.” You said, flashing him a shy smile.

“Well, this definitely calls for ice cream.”

[constastan]

kusanagi+totsuka, ~5k, AU where mikoto doesn’t exist, or is a lion in savannah somewhere like God intended, or in jail

The card is the first thing Izumo sees after returning from his day off, for once properly used. Tucked into the door handle, yellow and gaudy, it stands out against the dark wood, relegating everything around it to a background. Turning it over, Izumo doesn’t find any name signed, but the combination of intricate handiwork and cheap materials is telling enough. Bouncy letters on the back read, Happy housewarming!

Not what one would expect after nearly nine months, but then, one generally stops expecting anything about six months in.

“Idiot,” he says later that day, when Totsuka appears at the door with a single tinkle of the doorbell and an expectant smile. “Housewarming’s for when you invite people to your new place. ‘s the opposite of that.”

“But you changed a lot around here,” Totsuka returns. “It’s kinda new!”

“Wonder how you’d figure it from the outside. Peeked through the windows?”

Totsuka laughs. He looks pretty different himself, a couple of inches taller and a certain way that makes Izumo suddenly aware he’s not going to remain a shiftless kid for the entire lifespan, however well he fills the part. His jacket has to be too light, though the bulkiness creates an illusion of warmth. His hair is nearly too long, some of the strands catching on the black cord around his neck that holds a small metallic pendant. That’s a new one: Totsuka accessorizing.

Still, when he says, "Let’s see" and starts admiring all the renovations clockwise, his priorities turn out to be unchanged. He scarcely notices anything about the woodwork but admires the print on curtains, points out the new cushions but misses the tablecloths - Izumo’s particular point of pride — and nearly loses his mind once he reaches the music machine.

"It’s like a stereo system!" he declares when the second song begins, interrupting his singalong for a moment.

"What’d you think it is? A jukebox?"

"Not fair, Kusanagi-san. You know, I learned to play guitar from a busker in Iwaki, she was very good. I thought, ‘when I’m in Shizume I’ll play for Kusanagi-san’s patrons for free’. But I can’t beat this!"

With a smile, Izumo leans on the counter to see what he’s picking for the next turn.

"Why, go ahead and audition anyway. Live music is a whole another tier."

Totsuka beams directly at him before narrowing his eyes at the screen.

"Really? Well, I’ll give it my best. Oh, If I Fell In Love With You, I can play that! Does Mizuomi-san like rock or ballads more, Kusanagi-san?"

"Rock," says Izumo. He thinks his reply sounded easy and even as usual and came without any unnatural delay or strain. Yet Totsuka suddenly lifts his head as if catching a distant sound of something unfamiliar and ominous. He pauses before continuing. "He’d probably appreciate the Beatles. But he’s gone now."

For several long moments Totsuka is silent and looks taken aback. His hand is still hovering over the buttons; slowly, he brings it back to his side, and gives the interior another once-over, maybe trying to tie all the changes together.

Izumo reaches into his pocket for cigarettes.

"He was sick for a long time."

"I’m sorry," Totsuka says a little haltingly, then seems to remember something that brings about an odd flash of animation. "Ah, occhan died too. Last year, in the spring."

"Are you-" Izumo stops, unsure what exactly he meant to ask, gives himself a moment to focus. "Have you moved in with your… with his family?"

Totsuka shakes his head and finally comes over to take a seat at the bar, every motion careful and deliberate, like slipping between the dead they brought in there.

*

He went away right after the funeral. No reason, he was just thinking about occhan and the wind that always seemed to nudge occhan in the back wherever he went, and realized how little of the world he had seen, himself. It’s weird he had never thought to ask to tag along. His second — or was it third? — cousin is helping to rent out the apartment and they split the money. And now he has been to Saitama, Iwaki and Niigata - Saitama is the best, but the others are fun too. There’s always some kind of job if you aren’t too picky. Now he’s back to Shizume though, to pick up the rent money now that tenants moved out and because he felt like coming back. Who knows for how long. Who knows? That’s the only answer he is willing to give for anything that has to do with future plans, so eventually Izumo has to throw his hands up and stop asking.

Despite Izumo’s reservations on that point, the rent does come through. It’s instantly obvious when Totsuka walks in a couple of days later, all languid airs and exaggerated swagger.

"Well, the deed is done, Kusanagi-san. I’m a rich man now. Bring us the best you have to celebrate, on me!"

Two can play the game, so Izumo makes a show of examining the menu at length with a pondering frown before looking back at him, unimpressed.

"The best I have, huh. Well, that would be an Arizona Sunset for those of us who are underage. As for me, I’ll go for a Blue Arrow, and thanks for the treat."

"Geez," Totsuka says, not quite managing a proper pout. "At least let me watch how you make it. Because, see, I was in fact reflecting on things and I’m not satisfied with my career. I wanna do something creative."

"Following the recipe isn’t exactly an art form," Izumo points out, and comes to regret this warning very soon because Totsuka apparently has an outpour of creativity that garnishes anything he touches. He manages to keep his own cocktail safe, if mildly minted, but the Arizona Sunset goes supernova with fruit and syrups.

"It’s delicious," Totsuka assures him as soon as his lips touch the rim of the glass. He doesn’t return to the customer’s side of the bar. Izumo can see his eyes trailing along the shelves, sliding smoothly over the rows of bottles, sparkling with interest over the equipment. For several sips they savor their respective drinks in silence.

"What kind of job were you thinking?" Izumo asks eventually.

Totsuka hums and twirls his glass. His eyes are half-lidded; in the dim light they look warm, sweet and amber like honey.

"Mhm… a bakery? You know, an old-timey one, ran by some elderly couple. With family recipes and… rustic interior, is it what it’s called?" his voice is sing-song, also honey-textured. "And the same customers come every day for breakfast or lunch, so you make small talk…"

"Totsuka," says Izumo, in an undertone despite himself. "I’m talking prospects. not daydreams."

"Or a food truck. Going around the country, selling street food. Always on the move and everybody’s glad to see you when you come!”

"Food trucks don’t have routes throughout the entire country, idiot." Izumo sighs and goes to rinse off his glass. Totsuka trails after him. "It’s pointless, and nobody has that much gas to waste."

"But carnivals do, don’t they? If I sell street food and also busk, it’ll be like a mini-carnival."

The next day, they make a Kit-Kat milkshake, a Derby and some spicy nuts and bolts for snacking. The day later, it’s mozzarella sticks and plain soda. The food truck comes up occasionally, every time Izumo tries to gauge anything out about Totsuka’s cooking pursuits. After a certain, very early, point it’s all a game, but the kind that gets more amusing as new details come up. The truck is supposed to be orange, medium-sized, with a grill, candy floss machine and some space for the futon, guitar, keepsakes and Totsuka himself. Izumo eyeballs the price for him, just to be mean.

"I’ll put some ads on," Totsuka decides after a brief awestricken pause at the numbers. "Don’t you want to advertise your bar all over Japan, Kusanagi-san?"

"Depends. How much’d you even charge if you hope to cover the costs?"

Totsuka slumps onto the table, half-defeated, half-overdramatic and says:

"Maybe I’ll just sell the apartment."

It takes Izumo a surprising amount of self-restraint to stop himself from childishly retaliating, Well, maybe I’ll just sell the bar.

*

Not that he actually would, at the present moment. He has given himself until the end of college, so the time isn’t exactly running out yet — though the day when it starts to is already an impending dot on the horizon. It’s like the mid-August of summer holidays, is he’s still allowed to think in high school terms.

Then again, Izumo thinks, as he mops the floors late at night, meticulously studies the damage to the coveted tablecloths and moves expertly through the maze of tables without as much as brushing a chair once, nobody allows or disallows him anything. His family isn’t rushing him, and the money has never been an issue. No, it’s all self-imposed. He knows the bar will have to go eventually, better sooner than later. Better before he has a real reputation in the business world to worry about.

Izumo straightens out, propping the mop against the wall and looks around, taking in the interior, somewhat mismatched from the patchy renovating, a bit too fancy for the people who come there. Ever since his uncle died, it seems to enter deeper and deeper into transitory state. Izumo wouldn’t be able to explain why on earth he decided to upscale it. The theme he should have stuck with is neutrality, a complete lack of anything suggesting affiliations, or even non-basic standards. That’s how the place gained traction, after all. Neutral grounds ruled by a person who is on pleasant, distant terms with every group in your tier. Somewhere to have a drink without any fights erupting and maybe, when the floor grows emptier, take the bartender aside and wheedle a favor out of him. Izumo agrees just often enough to keep the rumor that it’s doable alive without appearing to take sides.

After a week or so and no fewer than twenty cocktail recipes Totsuka unearths the live music plan and proclaims he needs to know his audience.

"Guys who don’t know half a thing about music," Izumo reassures him. "And I don’t permit bottle throwing here, so you’ll do fine with anything."

Naturally, Totsuka is as offended as he hoped.

"I need to know what kind of people they are! You don’t get tips if you play against the grain, Kusanagi-san. And nobody sings or claps along, and it’s just depressing."

"No singalongs is what you should be aiming for, thanks," Izumo says, but Totsuka’s mind is clearly made up. To save him the trouble of climbing through the bathroom windows or trying any other wacky kidbook schemes, Izumo eventually deposits him on a far-end seat at the bar one Thursday night with a Coke and instructions to attract as little attention as possible. To hold out until he’s in the spotlight, guitar and everything.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t take a guitar to make someone high-school aged stand out in a half-empty bar. For the first hour nearly everybody who enters greets Izumo with "Oh, and that’s…?". They provide their own helpful suggestions, too. Izumo shoots down ‘little brother’ right away, but accepts ‘cousin’ a couple of times. When Totsuka manages to cut in first, it’s usually ‘intern’.

"Intern?" Izumo asks him via a raised eyebrow after the first time. Totsuka mutters back, “Cause I’m learning cocktails from you,” burying the back part of the sentence in his drink. Izumo only shrugs.

At long last, the novelty of Totsuka starts to wear off. Tables are getting fuller, and by ten Izumo can say with certainty that Totsuka should have been able to collect an accurate sample of the local public already. He’s in no hurry to leave though, glancing around with gleaming eyes and a half-smile. The local public is indeed a sight, especially for those who don’t hang out in certain parts of the town too often. Mohawks, bleached-out do’s, even a couple of pompadours. Leather jackets, clunky jewelry, bandanas. Tattoos and scars, sometimes overlapping. Each gang brought in their own style, contributing to a wild mess of clashing key pieces. It took Izumo some time to get used to that visual cacophony; Totsuka, however, seems to be taking it in stride, like most things.

When Izumo has to go to the back room for a minute, he slips off the chair to follow him and whispers.

"Are they really terrible people, Kusanagi-san? Who do really terrible things?"

"Really terrible people go to the dive bars in another district." Izumo loads off several bags of readymade snacks into his arms. "These are at moderate levels."

"So, they just fight among themselves?"

"Why’d you say that?"

Totsuka ponders a little, then says, "The leather jackets and the punk-style guys definitely fight". Izumo stops for a beat to glance at him because that’s true. This untimely pause must encourage Totsuka and he probes further: "Is there a reason?"

Izumo sighs and goes over the options in his head while his hands collect the utensils and supplies semi-mechanically.

"Look," he says at last. "The reason they come here, drink, chat with me is because it’s comparatively safe. They know I’m not gonna tip anyone off on their business. And so I don’t."

Turning back, he runs smack into Totsuka’s pout, this time full-fledged, and decides to rectify it a bit. Even at this point he knows that decision is more on a wrong side. Too bad there’s no way to predict the scale of wrong sometimes.

"Some smuggle, some have gambling rings, some do bodyguarding. Sort ‘em on your own if you are so curious."

Before heading out he catches a glimpse of Totsuka’s eyes lighting up and a grin beginning to form. Figures: now he’s gone and turned what could be a simple curiosity bone-throw or a flat rejection into a game. If Totsuka doesn’t figure it out, he can’t blame Izumo, and if he somehow does, the subjects of their discussion can’t blame Izumo either.

It appears like a win-win.

*

The next afternoon sees Totsuka parked on a sturdier chair with a guitar, facing the still-empty room. That’s as good of a stage as the bar can provide, but he seems to be perfectly content.

"It’s a nice observation point," he informs Izumo.

"Weren’t you complaining about the lighting and whatnot earlier?" asks Izumo. "What happened to that?"

He knows perfectly well what happened to that though: the endless circulation of ideas and plans in Totsuka’s world. Technically, he deposed the busking to old news himself, with that espionage schtick. Now Totsuka’s fully ready to lurk in the shadows and sniff out secrets, even if it takes some guitar-playing on the side. His gaze is glued to the door.

The first person to come is Gonzo, the leader of so-called ‘leather jackets’ that Izumo just labels as ‘the north-east one’ in his head, even though that’s also not their proper name. He isn’t entirely sure whether they’re really a biker gang or just dress the part. Gonzo is generally a boisterously good-natured guy, twice as much today, but that doesn’t stop Izumo from taking notice of how uncharacteristically early he is.

And sure enough, Gonzo is barely halfway through his first drink when he suggests Izumo to step out for a smoke while it’s not busy yet. Outside they listen to the buzz of passing trains, watch the sky go a darker shade of pink little by little in what could be called a companiable silence if there were any companions involved. Gonzo’s eyes lazily drift from the cotton-candy clouds to the dark windows way below.

"You keep anything up there?" he asks, nodding at them.

Here it comes, Izumo thinks. Unlike Totsuka he knows pretty well how the north-east gang makes money and what issues come with this kind of business.

"Odds and ends."

"Could they make space for a bit?"

"Should they?"

Gonzo laughs and leans sideways, not quite bumping shoulders. The underworld custom of talking in circles and vague hints clearly isn’t his strong suit. Charisma-laced candor, however, is. The wisps of his cigarette smoke now curl in the air next to Izumo’s own, merging together as they float up.

"They could make you some money, is what I’m saying. There’ll be a shipment in Chiba tonight, and we’re all booked out. Will take it off your hands in twenty hours tops."

"Pretty risky for my business and for yours."

"It’ll pay off, for both," says Gonzo. Through the half-closed door Izumo can hear the doorbell ring and Totsuka greet someone cheerfully. Someone who could be from the central district, or criminal outskirts, or rival dealers and probably expected the presumed neutrality of their go-to for decompressing to span both floors.

He gives a careless shrug.

"Sorry."

*

Coincidentally, the newly arrived bloke turns out to also be one of the north-east guys. When Izumo and Gonzo reenter, the bar is already tingling with bits and pieces of music. Totsuka is not playing yet, just running his hands against the strings to make them hum, fingers plucking at one or another occasionally. The patron sits at the table nearby with a beer. They seem to be talking about some band; Totsuka breaks off to mouth, "On the counter," at Izumo. He glances there and swipes the coins, an appropriate number of them surprisingly, off into his pocket, making a mental note to teach Totsuka operate the cash register.

"Wait a sec, you got a show on?" says Gonzo, paradoxically less single-minded now that he’s been rejected. "And I have a first row seat, too."

Over the course of the next half an hour he backs up Izumo’s assessment of his good-naturedness, laughing and calling out song titles and occasionally going as far as to clap along. The music now fills the space properly, ringing off the glass edges, oozing into the back room. Customers flow in steadily, and so do drinks. The north-easterners trickle over to where their leader is parked in Totsuka’s corner; the circle gets denser until he starts looking like booked personal entertainment.

Izumo is too busy to really do anything along the lines of watching over, but the music makes it easy enough to keep tabs. It runs on steadily and smoothly for a while, interspersed with claps and shout-outs, starts stumbling a little when Totsuka gets ambitious enough to follow those suggestions; then grows sparser, laxer, gradually making more and more room for the background noise.

He turns his head to get a good look at that point. Totsuka is still at his original spot, but now leaning onto the counter, guitar tossed across his lap carelessly. His cheeks and eyes are overly bright and the grin when he catches Izumo’s eye is positively dazzling. Izumo, a bartender, inadvertently glances at the glass with soda sat near the improvized stage and wonders who dumped their shot in there, also when and for what exact reason. As soon as his look drifts back, Totsuka flings the guitar down and himself off his seat in one motion that has a certain drunken grace to it. To be fair, it barely stretches to see him all the way to Izumo’s end of the counter.

"It’s going really well," he reports blissfully and, before Izumo has the chance to take a jab at some of his riffs, specifies: "The intel gathering. I’ve very nearly figured it out."

"Well?"

"Not yet. Still gotta check. Say, Kusanagi-san, we should bet on it!"

Izumo raises an eyebrow at him.

"Can’t win gamblin’ with a rich man like you. I don’t deal in trucks, and what else can you want? A pudding cup?"

Tosuka is all too happy to use that as an excuse to laugh out, all tipsy merriment. The protests that follow are also fairly stereotypical, if Izumo’s experience counts for something,

"Nope! A drink, a drink! You still haven’t served me your best one. I don’t buy the Arizona Sunset!" And here he leans in to mock-whisper: "Is that Blue Arrow after a-"

They both look up simultaneously as Totsuka’s cut off by something falling over him, something that for a split second looks like a tangible shadow to Izumo. Then he recognizes it for what it is - a high-grade leather jacket — and becomes aware of a smiling Gonzo at the eye level, the likely source of this windfall.

"Sorry ‘bout that. Some of my guys were being funny, overdid it a little. Better get some air outside, that will help with clearing his head."

Totsuka partially scrambles out from under the jacket, letting it fall back onto his shoulders, and in that half-buried state looks between them like a bewildered chipmunk. Izumo takes a moment to pass through the haze of half-formed thoughts of dragging him upstairs, throwing down a blanket and having him sleep it off for a while. But the night air is also good, as he, a bartender, can attest. He stifles a sigh.

"Yeah, sure. Thanks."

Gonzo nods and Totsuka, who’s still in the process of getting the tousled hair out of his face, is pulled to his feet. Before leaving he turns to wink conspiratorially at Izumo through the remaining flyaway strands, and Izumo says to himself, since there’s nobody else, So, not that drunk after all, huh.

*

They come back in twenty minutes or so. Totsuka does seem more even-keeled, less sparkle and more glow. The leather jacket is sitting on his frame properly now, though it’s hard to say who gets the credit for that. He takes a seat at one of the corner tables this time, smiling absently at Izumo as he motions at the discarded guitar. One of “the guys" picks it up and eventually it finds its way back into the case. Izumo is rather sure he catches a glimpse of it cased at some point between then and the midnight.

Still, the fact remains: they've come back. It’s a good hour, if not more, of partying for the north-easterners that night. They drink and tip remarkably well and Izumo is waiting for his chance to tell Totsuka, See what I told you about the live music. Totsuka, however, seems to be moving with the tidal waves of people around him, never approaching alone. Whenever their eyes meet, he smiles in the same conspiratory way and gesticulates something inarticulate. Izumo only wonders if the night air really worked like they hoped.

It’s after midnight that the people start trickling out. A little early, Izumo thinks, but then recalls they have an overnight job lined up. Two by three, three by four, the group makes its way to the entrance and then outside. From the corner of Izumo’s distracted eye they blend into clusters of black spots against the light-colored walls, then transform into firefly-like tiny bursts of vivid color as each one stops to light a cigarette just out of the doors. The hum of departing slowly fades away to near silence, and when Izumo finally turns away from a desolated customer with a large tab, the bar looks lopsided — the right side is now barren.

Izumo leans against the counter, putting his weight onto it for several seconds: that late-shift feeling, something between lightheadedness and fatigue, starts to settle in. Making use of the downtime, he sorts out the tips, wipes the counter, prepares the trays for dirty glasses and tries to remember what he wanted in the back room. It comes to him like a jolt: the blanket. Only at that point he realizes.

The bar is half-barren and locked in what feels like a unnatural hush: the music is long gone — soaked into the walls, splashed out into the street — and no inane chatter has come to replace it. Belatedly, Izumo remembers Totsuka never swapped from Gonzo’s jacket back to his own bulky excuse of it, and wonders if he, a black dot at the edge of vision, gave Izumo’s back a mischievous smile on his way out.

*

Twelve hours in, Izumo thinks of all the ways to bastardize Blue Arrow while still retaining the right to call it that and entertains himself by looking up substitutions.

Two days in, he skims the local news column closely and starts straining his ear for any noteworthy gossip during the shifts; there’s none, which is reassuring.

Three days in, he suddenly reaches to turn on the portable radio mid-afternoon while prepping the bar alone.

Five days in, he tries to recall the address even though he knows Totsuka never mentioned it. Nor his cousin’s name, for that matter.

A week in, Gonzo shows up at his usual time.

*

Just like the last time, he’s alone, but in stark contrast from the last time he isn’t the one determined to have a word. Izumo bids his time and eventually Gonzo catches that prompting undercurrent in his persistent lingering glances. He goes through the trouble of coming over to answer it with a roll of shoulders and a lazy smile.

"The last week’s gig turned out good, by the way. The trouble paid off in full, like I said. Think it over for the future."

Izumo keeps the frustration off his face as he rummages through his memory trying to pinpoint what on earth he could be on about. Eventually, their smoke outside backdropped by cotton candy sky and the upstairs windows floats up to the surface.

"Ah," he says. "Well, looks like you’re making do without me."

Gonzo winks.

"The kid sure came in handy, so thanks for that, too. But we gotta have something more permanent."

"The kid," Izumo repeats slowly.

"Your cousin, was it? His place was perfect for the job. You know, a tiny block, on the outskirts... all warehouse-like, even. Could have fit twice as many crates in. Does he live with your family?"

Izumo, listening as if through the thick layer of something muffling, says, "No".

"Ah. Well, figures, since… Anyway, transporting the stuff was a piece of cake back then. I was gonna chat him up about a couple more shipments I had an eye on, but now that he’s cleared off…"

This time Izumo stops himself from dumbly echoing, "cleared off…", but something of the sentiment must be seeping through on his face anyway as Gonzo’s eyes flicker away. Still keeping them off, he rubs his cheek, the picture of someone’s who’s wondering if they're getting dragged into family drama.

"I mean, he joined us here and there while we were finishing up that business — no harm in that, keeping company. He loves to be on the move, no? Left him in Sendai last, he asked to pick him up Sunday. Said he’ll be staying for some open air schtick. But…"

"I see," says Izumo and somewhat hastily serves him his usual. They talk a bit about the current climate in the city and how the rent’s on the rise and, what movies are on, for Pete’s sake, before Hiroki and some others finally show up. The minutes swell, break off and sink  slowly like heavy droplets from a leaking pipe. Izumo goes through the routine with an odd sense of distance, as if his hands move three paces ahead of his consciousness. 

Hours later, Gonzo approaches him before calling it a night — half-cautiously, or so it looks to Izumo’s currently lagging mind.

"Can’t promise you anything," he says in a hurried attempt to redirect. "Don’t even know how long this place’s gonna stay in the business."

Gonzo blinks, then just looks at him for a moment — tall, solid and steady on his feet. Not the kind of person you can just hip-check off their chosen track. No knocking the subject out of his hands until he’s ready to drop it, Izumo thinks, and waits for him to keep going.

"Right, just thought I’d mention… Me and some guys, we’re going back to Sendai next week."

"Good luck, but don’t bother," Izumo hands seem to be picking up speed uncontrollably. It’s five paces ahead of the rest now, no less. "He’ll be in Nagasaki by then, or maybe in Europe. There’s no keeping up with him for us who have things to do."

Having blurted that out, he stops for a second – completely, hands and all – mesmerized by the satisfying finality of the words. That didn't just sound like it's over, he thinks, that sounded like it's been over for a week. Like it possibly never even started.

*

Several days later he re-discovers the card in the pile of mail where he first put it, and feels grateful to have something he can- not dispose of but physically set aside, literally put on the shelf. A gesture like this is the only thing his perfect wrap-up speech was missing.

He pauses for a second, surveying his options, then opens the drawer that holds a purchase agreement and other non-trivial papers. The yellowness and gaudiness of Totsuka’s inverted welcome seems to show through the top sheet, so he buries it deeper in the stack.

In the end of the winter when he starts getting things ready for the deal, it’s still there, unfaded.

[glittermemories]

“Rockcandy” MHA: OC Story

Okashi Shuga U.A. Sports Festival

Today was the day of the U.A. Sports Festival, despite the students just going through such a chaotic event with the U.S.J. Incident. The Sports Festival was too important to just cancel it, besides the fact that they get to show off their quirks on live television. Plus it’s the perfect opportunity for Pro Hero’s to scout the students. Bakugo was the one that lead the student pledge which made everyone facepalm or cringe. Before they started Shuga popped in her earbuds and switched to BlackPink’s playing with fire and held onto Kirishima’s hand swinging it just smiling at him as they waited for the first event. He smiled back and they heard the announcement that the first event would be an obstacle race and that the first 42 people would make it to the next round. The could use their quirks to win as long as they didn’t try to leave the course. Shuga gave the red head a hug and stepped towards the starting line. She phased into her other form with purple hair.

 Some people noticed and were confused about what the heck her quirk was exactly. “Give me the power of Cure Blossom!” Her main hair decoration formed into a Sakura flower with pink ribbon. She turned up the volume of her music and waited for Present Mic to speak. She looked to Kirishima and smiled mouthing a “Good Luck.” Present Mic shouted for the students to start “Gather, Power of Flowers! Floral Power Fortissimo!” The pink light picked her up and shot her ahead of the other students. *If I do this right I can use Floral Power Fortissimo through this thing.* She was shot ahead just to the robots and looked behind her where she saw the others in the distance She smiled and punched a robot down “Blossom Punch! Good they are still back there!” And then she saw a raging Bakugou. Her eyes widened “Oh poo…”

  I need to make a way to get through these things if I can even just make a small space I could race through!” She brought up her wand “Gather, Power of Flowers!” She posed like Cure Blossom “Blossom Tact!” Todoroki was just about to make it to her. Present Mic was shouting and stating that Shuga was in the lead but she stopped and was waving a wand at robots. He asked what she was doing “What sorcery is this??!” Mr. Aizawa mumbled “It’s not sorcery,…its Magical Girls…” Shuga pointed her wand at the Robots “Brilliant flowers!” a giant spinning pink flower formed in front of her “PINK FORTE WAVE!” It shot out at the robots and drove straight through them leaving a space for her to run through. She ran straight ahead and decided not to look back. The others had just about caught up, Bakugo finally reaching her and flying above her “Ehh! No!” 

She ran faster to the next obstacle there was a giant chasm with ropes. She saw Todoroki ahead of her and Midoriya close behind her now “AHh I have to pick up the pace!” She stepped on the rope and told herself not to look down. Todoroki now far ahead of her and Midoriya just behind her, “Hii Okashi-chan!” She waved and looked down at her cat Sparkle “I didn’t think I was going to have to use Cure Marine this fast.” She jumped up on the rope “Give me the power of Cure Marine!” Her hair pin turned into a blue heart with ribbon. In that instant she lost balance and was about to fall She shouted really fast  “GATHERPOWEROFFLOWERS! FLORALPOWERFORTISSIMO!” and was picked up by a blue light similar to earlier she shot off to the next area which was the minefield “Whoo that was close! She looked ahead and saw Bakugo and Todoroki fighting. Midoriya was digging up mines and looked to be doing something kinda reckless. “That, looks dangerous.”

 She noticed other people were tiptoeing around mines or being blown up “Oh come on! Ok forget this.” She raised her wand “Give me the power of Cardcaptor Sakura!” others who were behind her watched her as the blue heart in her hair turned to Cardcaptor Sakura’s Dream Key. “Release!” Her wand stretched out and became a staff.  Present Mic and the audience were all stunned. Midoriya blew up a bunch of mines and flew ahead causing Bakugo and Todoroki to stop fighting. They ran after Midoriya. “Clear Card Deck!” Shuga had an array of cards surrounding her, she grabbed the Flight card and tossed it in front of her. The card spun around as she tapped her wand to it “Flight!” wind swirled around her and formed into a giant ribbon like set of wings on her back. She used them and floated upwards and over the minefield. “Yes this is perfect! I can move however I want!” Shuga watched the scene in front of her. 

Midoriya had gained enough traction and used the mines a second time to throw him far enough forward that he was still in the lead. Todoroki and Bakugo ran after him, Shuga flew behind them as fast as she could go. The wings poofed causing her to drop to the ground but thankfully in a position where she could still catch up without tripping. She ran after them. In the end Midoriya came in first with cheers all around, second was Todoroki, third Bakugo and fourth Shuga. She jumped up “Yeah I made it! That was close Midoriya! I thought I had the lead there but you boys sure do put up a fight! You all did really well! Congratulations!” Bakugo was furious but Shuga ignored him. Todoroki just nodded to her in thanks and Midoriya just cried and thanked her. She was about to turn when she felt a body slump on her, it was Kirishima. 

She turned and jumped on him in a hug “Eijiro!” She giggled and he caught her stumbling back a little, he smiled, “You got fourth! Thats awesome!” She thanked him “Thank you! But you got ninth that’s still really well!” He just kinda nodded and ignored that he got ninth place. She squished his cheeks “My little shark boy!” He was blushing but let her do as she wished, they really were madly in love with each other and it was VERY obvious..to everyone. They heard another yell “HEY WILL YOU TWO GET A ROOM ALREADY??!” It was of course, Bakugo. Shuga turned around “EH?! MAYBE WE WILL! AND I DON’T NEED YOUR PERMISSION DAD!!” Bakugo twitched again Kirishima blushing behind her “I’M NOT YOUR DAD!” She argued “THEN DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” She turned around in a huff mumbling about Bakugo needing to mind his own business. She looked at Kirishima and his face was all red, It finally hit her what she said …Bakugo started laughing at her. She turned around fire in her eyes “WHY YOU LITTLE..!!” Kirishima gripped her waist and picked her up turning his back to Bakugo and moving her to be where he just was. He giggled a little “It was kinda funny…” She blushed and buried her face in his chest while he ran his hands there her hair.

 They moved to the cavalry battle which Shuga could care less for but was teamed up with Midoriya’s team. They ended up in fourth.

 The next event would be the one on one Fighting tournament which paired them up by lottery. The first Matches were called  Midoriya vs. Shinso, Kaminari vs. Shiozaki, Iida vs. Hatsume, Aoyama vs. Aishido, Tokoyami vs. Yaoyorozu, Kirishima vs Tetsutetsu, Bakugo vs. Uraraka, and Monoma vs. Okashi. Class 1-a went wide eyed and looked genuinely worried for Shuga. She had become the sweetheart of their class, even Bakugo looked mad that she was paired up with Monoma of all people. 

Shuga looked at everyone then to Kirishima who had her hand in a death grip. Monoma walked over to her “Ah nice to make your acquaintance, sweetheart of 1-a. Literally. Sweets was it?” He held out his hand, “uh…please don’t call me that…I only feel comfortable with certain people calling me that. Please call me Okashi.” She was about to shake his hand when Kirishima pulled her back and Bakugo who was watching pulled him back by his collar “WATCH IT YOU COPY LOOSER!” Shuga was confused “W-what is it Eijiro? Bakugo?” He brought her close “Listen, the guy you are paired up with is a royal jerk. He has some weird superiority complex and really hates our class. He’s not scary to me, but I’m worried about you.” She looked around while her class turned and threw death glares at Monoma. “Shuga, his quirk is Copy with even a slight touch he can copy your quirk.” She was shocked “What?! My fingers barely grazed his! Your telling me he copied my quirk!?” Kirishima looked even more worried now “I’m sorry Shuga.” 

Monoma shrugged Bakugo off  “You should keep your dogs on a tighter leash.” That comment caused her to snap and she glared back at him “Excuse me?! Did you just call my boyfriend and best friend dogs?!” She got up in his face and poked him on his chest slightly causing him to stumble back “Here! You can borrow my quirk all you want now! But let me tell you something you little blonde headed creep! Don’t ever let me catch you speaking about them like that again.” She shoved him on the ground “And by the way you may be able to copy my quirk but no one knows how to use it better than me!” She stared down at him menacingly  “You should be glad that you won’t leave this arena in a bodybag, because after I’m through with you, you’ll wish you were dead.” She huffed at him and went back to Kirishima. “Eijiro, your not a dog. Your my little shark boy!” She held his face in her hands again and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

 Bakugo dragged the other blonde away and tossed him into his classmates. “Keep your mongrel away from us until the One on One.” Bakugo mumbled about them being extra’s and Itsuka smacked Monoma in the back of the head. “Geeze Monoma you didn’t need to make her angry. She’s a nice girl. AND to insult her boyfriend. You need to learn how to stop sometimes.” She shook her head. 

Shuga watched the fights before it was her turn. She proudly watched Kirishima and when he returned from his fight she congratulated him “Congratulations Eijiro!” He rubbed the back of his neck “I-it was a tie it’s not like I won or anything.” She smiled brightly “Well you still have the tiebreaker! I know you can do it!” He ruffled her hair and pulled her in for a hug “How did I get so lucky with you?” She just giggled “I don’t know, but what I do know is that..I…um…I love you.” She looked away and blushed “Y-you don’t have to sa-y it b-…” He picked her up and twirled her around “That’s the first time I’ve heard you say it! I love you too Shuga!” She laughed and he set her down “I really am lucky to have you.” She hugged him close again “I’ll be watching from the stands for your fight.” 

They heard Present Mic say Bakugo won. They watched Uraraka be rushed away. He called the next fight which was hers “And now it on to the next fight! Okashi Shuga vs. Monoma Neito!” She got nervous, Kirishima kissed her forehead “I’ll be rooting for you. Good luck! And remember what you said No one knows how to use your quirk better than you.” she pecked his cheek “Your right! I’ll see you after!”  She ran out to the arena hearing her class cheer for her “OKASHI-CHAN!! YOU CAN DO IT!!” Present Mic was rambling something abount Monoma, then saw her “AAAAND Here she is! The sweetheart of class 1-a! Did you know her name literally means Sugar Sweets? COOL!! Alright let’s get started! AAAAND Go!”

 She stepped forward a bit and transformed in front of the crowd in a flash of light. Her hair no longer pink but styled in her purple color. She pulled out her wand, a small portal opened and her little black cat walked out yawning. Monoma was greatly confused “WAIT WHAT KINDA QUIRK IS THAT?” he looked to where Midnight was and she just shrugged. “Her quirk.” He looked back to Shuga “SHE HAS A CAT?! IS THAT CHEATING?” Midnight just looked to the cat, then Shuga “Miss Okashi, can she do anything that would be considered cheating?” the girl shook her head “No, ma’am mostly for moral support. She’s literally part of my quirk, when my quirk appeared she was there in a flash of light along with my wand.” Midnight looked to Monoma “No she’s not cheating.” Monoma just looked a bit miffed and decided to just jump at her ready to attack “Give me the power of Cure March!” her head piece switched to a green oval gem and a feather.

 Monoma hardened his fist like Kirishima “How about a taste of your dog’s quirk?!” He hoped that by riling her up she may slip up about her quirk She was furious “Don’t talk about him like that you jerk!” She dogged his attack and used his back as leverage to push herself up in the air. She flipped around and five orbs of green energy formed around her “Pretty Cure! March! Shoot!” She kicked each of them with such force that it pummeled him to the ground. Monoma got up kinda slow *good an attack I can use against her!* She did a back-flip after kicking the final orb and landed on the ground. He got up and used Bakugo’s explosion quirk on her “eh?! Give me the power of Sailor Venus!” She moved backwards her hair piece now a red ribbon. “Venus!” a sword appeared in her hands, she spun around with it “Wink Chain Sword!” she threw it and it poofed into chains with red orbs that shot out at Monoma.

 He dogged and she heard him say “Give me the power of Cure March!”  she jumped out of the way as she knew what was coming, “Give me the power of Cure Mint!” She saw Manoma and almost laughed his hair had a different reaction then hers did and it turned his hair lime green with a little gold crown and feather. Shuga could hear Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima all laughing. Monoma didn’t realize what had happened and Shuga decided not to say anything just yet. “Pretty Cure! March Shoot! He kicked the orbs her way “Pretty Cure! Mint Shield!” She held up a barrier and the attacks just dissipated. Shuga had to stifle a laugh as he went to try and attack again “March Shoot!” Nothing happened and he looked confused. He tried again so Shuga attacked him “Pretty Cure! Emerald Saucer!” She posed like Cure Mint and threw the giant green saucer of light at him. He was hit and thrown some distance away. “Your not going to be able to use that attack again.” She stayed where she was

 “You should just give in. Your not going to win against me with my own attacks.” He got up and ran at her, his previous look poofed away in a puff of glitter. He just started punching at her with Kirishima’s quirk, which in turn scratched her up and gave her cuts but she was able to dodge a good amount of his attacks until he distracted her with his other hand using an explosion she wasn’t expecting and was thrown across the Arena. She screamed in pain before landing on the ground and skidding to a stop that caused her outfit to slightly tear. A slightly worried Present Mic spoke to the crowd “Oh, will Okashi-Chan be able to get up?! That was quite a hit!” Everyone watched as the purple haired girl struggled. Kirishima called out to her “SHUGA GET UP! COME ON GET UP! YOU CAN BEAT HIM!” she dug her hands into the ground mumbling and in a flash her hair ornament changed again to a black and white ribbon. Kirishima noticed and cheered “YES! DO IT SHUGA!” Monoma looked to him while the girl called out “Black Thunder!” black lightning shot to her hand “White Thunder!” the same with the other hand She stood up fully throwing her arms forward “Pretty Cure! MARBLE SCREW!” bands of black and white swirled together and hit Monoma he yelled out in pain. She forced the energy at him having to slightly walk forward. He was hit and crumpled to the ground, he recovered faster than her though “Thanks for giving me another example.” She was starting to breath heavy and had to stifle another laugh as Monoma’s hair turned lime green again and he gained a big white and black bow on his head.

 He didn’t understand until he looked to the big screen and saw his face “WHAT?! WHY?! HOW?!” She was still panting “My quirk…my quirk is Magical Girl…thats a side effect…ha.” He was embarrassed but saw she was also weak *now is my chance!” Shuga called out “Give me the power of Cure Sunshine!” she held out her hands “Golden Aegis!” a giant spinning sunflower shaped shield appeared in front of her as he used Marble Screw. She held on and was almost pushed to the edge of the Arena. He was frustrated, this was getting nowhere and he was starting to get tired too. He figured that her quirk had to have some type of limit. If he could just get her out of the ring. “Just give up already!” She shook her head even though she was on her knees now, she was really exhausted but she looked up at him with some type of resolve “Never! A Magical Girl never gives up!” 

She got up although she struggled and ran past him away from the edge of the Arena dodging his punch. “Give me the power of Cure Shining Dream!” She was at her limit due to using her quirk so much today this was about all she had left so she gave it her all. Monoma was going to rush her but was shocked when a flash of light surrounded her “Sweetheart mode.” When she appeared again she was not in her U.A. Tracksuit, she didn’t even look scraped or tired. Her head piece had turned into a large pearl with a gold ornament and small white veil. Her outfit was white and lavender with gold buttons and white ruffles. She had white puff sleeves with the sleeve part being see through. Her stockings were the same with a lace design. Her shoes were semi-platform, lavender geta sandals with lavender ribbons wrapping up her legs. Her skirt was white ruffles with a shorter purple overskirt, and long white and gold pieces of fabric. She had a large long bow on the backside of her skirt. To finish off her outfit was white gloves with gold bracelets, a lavender bow on her bust with a red dark pink orb in the center, and a choker with a dark pink and gold gem on it.

 She faced Monoma who was just as shocked as everyone else. Shuga placed her wand in front of her “I’m sorry if this hurts Monoma.”  She swung it up with a rainbow of colored lights swirling around her “Starlight!” She pointed it at Monoma “SOLUTION!” she phased into a being of light energy and ran straight through him the colored orbs doing the same. He screamed out in pain and finally passed out. Shuga appeared on the other side of him. She walked around him before she phased out of her transformation. She could hardly stand up. Present Mic shouted and the crowd cheered “The Winner is Okashi Shuga! Congratulations you made it to the Quarter Finals!” the girl smiled proudly. She limped away and managed to make it inside of the exit before collapsing on the ground in a puff of glitter.

 Kirishima found her and picked her up as she silently rested there unable to move. “You did great out there sweetheart.” She nodded softly in acknowledgement. He carried her to Recovery girl. She was fully healed and waited for her turn in the Quarter Finals. She walked out and everyone cheered “Okashi Shuga and Oh whats this? Kirishima Eijiro! They will be fighting each other! What a turn of events ladies and gentleman our two lovebirds have to fight each other!” Mr. Aizawa just glared at Present Mic “Please don’t make this harder for her that it already is..” She slowed down as she saw Kirishima walk to her in a fast pace they met in the middle “Eijiro…No..please no. Not again…” She started to tear up “I don’t want to fight you again, not after last time..” Everyone watched as Kirishima held her close “I…I..just can’t..No, I won’t!” His grip on her tightened as He spoke “I will forfeit, so you can move on.” She shook her head “No! I already know I won’t make it, I’ve cycled through so many powers today, all the ones I have left use such a great deal of power that I’d just pass out upon using them.” He lifted her chin up “Are you sure about this?” She nodded and smiled giving him a kiss on the cheek “Yes I’m sure. If I do anymore I might end up out for more than three days this time.” The crowd hooted and howled. He kissed her forehead “Ok then. Go ahead.” She nodded and stepped away wiping away a stray tear “I’ll be watching you love.” 

She turned to where Mr. Aizawa and Present Mic were “I forfeit! I won’t make it any farther anyways today. I’ve went way past my limit.” Present Mic turned to Mr. Aizawa as the girl shuffled around waiting for a response. Mr. Aizawa took the mic away from his coworker “Go rest Sweets, you’ve earned it.” Present mic accepted the mic back. Midnight spoke to both of them “Well Kirishima lets get you another partner. Okashi please head up to the stands.” The pink haired girl nodded. She ran off and the crowd clapped for her. Shuga headed up to the stands to join the others. Ochaco was up in the stands as well “Hey, Okashi-chan! How are you feeling?” Shuga responded a little weary as she slowly sat down “Nervous, they decided to pair Eijiro with Kaa-chan…” Ochaco nodded and patted her shoulder “Hey he’s strong and tough! He’ll be fine!” 

Shuga responded “Yeah..but Bakugo is ruthless…he’s literally the embodiment of rage, Like if you turned to Rage in the dictionary it would just be a picture of him.” Ochaco and the others laughed “Pfft! Thats hilarious. But I agree he can go a little overboard at times.” Shuga giggled a little. Her attention was taken when she looked down and saw Kirishima fall from Bakugo’s final hit “EIJIRO!” Shuga started to freak out but Ochaco held her there and tried to calm her down “It’s going to be ok Okashi-chan! Remember we have Recovery Girl!” She nodded “Go to Recovery Girl. I bet by the time you get there he will be all better!” Ochaco didn’t even need to blink and Shuga was gone. She giggled at the girl “Ahh Okashi-chan you two were made for each other. So cute!” Shuga made it to where Recovery girl was and slammed open the door “Is he ok!? Did he recov…EIJIRO!” 

She tackled the boy to the ground. He would never get over the pure joy she had on her face every time she saw him. He loved it. He was still a little sore though “Miss Okashi. He still needs some time and I don’t think tackling him to the ground will help that.” The pink girl blushed and got off of his lap, helping him up. Then she hugged him again “I saw what Bakugo did. You fought so hard and I know it was for the festival but i want to punch Kaa-chan in the face.” Kirishima just laughed “I could say the same about Monoma. But I don’t think that would be the best thing to do.” He pulled her away then grabbed her hand.He thanked recovery girl and the two walked back up to the stadium seats to watch the matches that were left. She leaned her head on his shoulder and slowly drifted off to sleep. He rested his head on top of hers and did the same. The entire class, well the ones not fighting took pictures of them and sent them all to Kirishima knowing if they were sent to Shuga, she’d either kill everyone or cry. Kendo looked over the side wall that seperated them and awwed at the sight while chopping Monoma for the millionth time that day. Everyone knew the two were perfect for each other and would probably be together for the rest of their lives. The Sports festival ended with Bakugo winning first place, although it was because Todoroki gave up in the end. Tordoroki won second and third was Tokoyami. The Sports Festival was a success!

[hanzi83]

Part of my Script for the Podcast

Here is a fun game you can play since most people who love to read or listen to my stuff, read along the script to see how much I ad libbed and how much I read. Trolls wanted to act like school children so I am going to treat you like school children and we are going to play cornball games like this. 

Podcast topics script 

It feels weird doing this podcast, and even though I have felt motivated doing this podcast for almost a week now, it just feels like people who have surrounded themselves by me online and have felt they have been a part of my life, whether it is them just forcing themselves into my psyche, where I am going to always think about them after making every move, because they know that I know whatever I say or do, they will be on top of it, and because I barely relevant in the grand scheme of things to the masses, I assume they think that I am going to always want them around because they are the only ones even talking about me, whether it is underselling anything I do that is positive, or memorize anything I have said out of irrational anger or just trying to joke around, they now have me in a bind where I am always going to have to address and engage the fucked up shit going on, especially spreading disinformation and making up rumors. Since I have started this podcast it feels like they will now attack a lot more aggressively because I am restraining from letting them have this much direct contact with me. 

It turns out the last episode was not even properly uploaded on Spotify or other podcast distributing sites, and I don’t even know how to fucking address it, was that done on purpose to show there is some censorship going on because people with power who might be close or far away are even shitting on any attempt for me to gain traction, and now they have found a way for me to have to be forced to get people’s help, or in my mentally ill brain, it will make me wonder if I am being fucked over by people claiming to be trustworthy, or someone powerful so the topic will always focus on the notorious trolls who have made a name the last year being really aggressive about the trolling and making sure I am living in fear, or does it direct the conversation back to Stern, because maybe in my head I am concocting this scenario where Howard will not let me get bigger, and will disencourage me from wanting to continue because they know it was a struggle just to start this basic podcasting shit, and now I am going to have to go learn how to fucking problem solve this distribution shit. It is fine, it is something else for you people to laugh at me about because even when I try to be creative and a little more productive, it becomes clear whether it is people in my life, my supposed fans or the powers that be don’t want me ever being on my own because they need me to be interactive with people who just want to remind me of every fucking insane thing I may have said or try to create rifts between me and others. 

I don’t even think people who I have become friendly with seem happy that I have decided to do something for myself, which is the criticism I receive the most from people, so when I do something on my own, still not sure if I am doing this right, or whether I will remain compelling to carry this out, or just not being tech savvy enough, I have gotten a few “I am proud of you” but for the most part I think people are scared of me being unfiltered even though I have stated that most of the shit on this podcast are from my delusional thoughts, and they are my theories. It becomes difficult because I listen to so many podcasts that wrap up and analyze politics, hip hop, wrestling etc, where I have now taken that for granted because I have become reliant on people spotting the interesting observations and analyzing it so my shit is just a reaction to that. Can I talk about the Childish Gambino album? I can barely articulate how to explain the different styles and instruments being used, all i can analyze are lyrics, and even now I am taking in so much hip hop to catch up on weekly releases, I don't even get to go revisit it again. Only joke I had for the Gambino album was that if I list off my favorite tracks from the album, people will think I am attempting to give away my router number in a drunken stupor. It feels like I have to come up with angles etc and if it has not become obvious I am reading this and I am sure writing it will come out better in my head than me attempting to reading it, and insisting on keeping up the fuck up because showing my mistakes seems to be the only interesting things about my stupid podcast

I know this take has been done to death on twitter or whatever echochamber, but I feel like I was a pioneer with all this social distancing shit. I have been exiled from everyone for so long and have spent countless nights sitting in my room in the dark, smoking a cigarette while the windows are open, just being depressed about not having anyone and then when I am around people, I don’t want to be around them because I find it more fascinating talking to myself and feeling my own thoughts and maybe that has to do with the fact that when I was younger I did not want to be alone with my thoughts. Like I did not want to even think about shit in fiction. Seeing Terminator 2 as a kid, being used to watching pretty PG kind of stuff, the part where the sun explodes and the entire earth is burning, I remember being freaked out and asking my friend if that could happen someday and he would say calmly “Yeah if there was a nuclear war” and it just made me not want to think about it and I would always want to be distracted because I was scared of having to think what is possible. I feel like people are now kind of going a little bit nutty by not being able to interact or go outside, and as someone who barely left his house since 2009 I assure you, you will survive this. 

I wanted to talk about the coronavirus shit but here is the deal, and this is probably why so many people who go the route of the lowbrow type of humor might gravitate to me, because realistically that is where my level of intellect should be because I have been so dumbed down for so long, I would wait for people who were smarter to kind of lead me, and agree with it even though I don’t know how to explain why the earth is actually round, but the evidence that scientists will tell you I will just pretend to understand and use their explanations and I feel a lot of people do that, even though the thing they are going with might be a fact but I bet if you got those people in a room alone to ask them off the record, a lot of people would be in admission that they have no clue, so I have no clue what the fuck is legit about this coronavirus, it used to be so simple just to have a few things that you sense as bullshit, but now with conspiracy theories also becoming a marketing tool, it has made me question that as well. Was it started in China? Was it planned from the US? Did Bill Gates do it since more interviews about him talking about the pandemic are making the rounds, are these celebrities really quarantined? Are they hiding in their bunker? Have they fled the planet and let their illuminati clones suffer? God damn man, tell me something. Some say this is to start a war with China, but if I think the Chinese government is corrupt and dangerous, then I am buying into neocon propaganda, but then if I think there are racial implications with taking advantage to this shit, then I am a hater of the US empire, because it is apparently okay to like US imperialism. There is so much to keep up with, and there are too many narratives. Maybe I need an illuminati microchip that can make me take all of this in and analyze properly because it feels like mentally I am 15 years behind or some shit. I just analyze the world like I think we are all in some reality show and the people who are the upper echelon and their associates of lower status are hooked up with some advanced shit. 

I feel like it is a serious thing happening, while some people are being Thanos snapped, but it is also a test run and all I am doing is being Doctor Strange and analyzing all the scenarios that are fucking possible of what could be happening. Will this be the one of the system’s sacrifices of mass people before a more deadly one is created. Is this a way to bring in more leftist policies and make an argument for socialism because if there were ever an event that is taking place that has given the best argument for it, it would be what is being so transparent with how businesses are acting, and how pretentious some of these celebrities are acting. They are supposed to be the villains now, so when you see a bunch of people circle jerking and singing the song Imagine, then you have Norm McDonald come out and give this overly religious message because being anti neoliberal, while making it seem you are anti left, makes right wing people think you are some hip dude because you are not politically correct

That is why I analyze shit the way i do, and I like being unfiltered while I am fucking wrong most of the time with my opinion, even though people have told me I am fucking right in some sideways like way but never bother to elaborate. I really think that this is all planned out, and there are good factions and bad factions. I believe people are having their last run as a baby face before they are revealed to be heels, when in actuality they are just playing heels. We are supposed to be calling it out, but it also seems that people that do call it out, do it with this far right perspective and maybe that is part of their propaganda to tell some truth, or maybe they are pretending to be truth tellers while still running a hustle. I have to think that we are far advanced, and maybe the people dying are being cloned for another planet, maybe the celebrities have escaped the system and are using their clones to fucking die on earth. I don’t fucking know anymore. It just all feels planned. I am not saying idol worship, which is a mistake we all have made, maybe some of you were smarter than most of us before, but it takes some of us some time. I still think they have really tried to hard over the course of the last decade to make it seem like people in the upper echelon are like regular people, and sure with emotions and depression and stress etc but I do think it is harder for them on some level because they are in a world with hidden people and have to embrace some dark ritualistic type of shit, and they make it seem relatable. Is this a way to crash the economy and is it for the sake of good or bad, because I think this whole Trump thing has been a way for people to be more woke and actually have a revolution, even if the whole thing is scripted, and the tragic thing is people will die. That is why in my fucked up brain I hope these people are spiritually somewhere else, maybe their consciousness will be transferred, or maybe there is another world after you die, and no I am not religious, but I believe we are far more advanced than we think. Am I right? Probably not. 

It is not all pretentious because I have enjoyed the hip hop element of storylines taking place during this pandemic, with the producers having their battles on Instagram live or Boosie asking women to put their pussy lips on live so he could then give her 1000 dollars. By the way because I think everyone becomes a character and a meme for social media, I am going to predict where this boosie storyline is going to go. He made some anti trans remarks, according to the T’s because he gave his opinion on Dwayne Wade’s daughter, and even though I think there is a sensationalized thinking of the worst case scenarios with this stuff, I do think there are people in the celebrity world who have agendas when they do it. Anyways I think with Boosie asking these women to strip for him, there is going to be a time where some chick is going to be shaking her ass and then she will somehow then reveal she has a dick, and then Boosie will react and he will become a bigger meme, and then to come full circle, it will be revealed to be a plot by the black fraternities he was beefing with a couple of months back. 

As far as the wrestling stuff goes, now here is where we go with layers. Let me preface this by saying whatever is happening with these institutions, I believe it is all planned for them. Since WWE is on the downswing, I don’t know if this will be a case of WWE doing well with what the hand they have seemingly been dealt, and people can toot their own horn that anything good that happens is when it somehow happens to be an accident, or maybe this is one situation where they are going to fall a part because they insisted on going on with this show when a pandemic is happening, so will wrestlers end up having it so we have more sacrifices and then people will really be outraged about WWE and mixing in the accumulated bad press they have received for other things. Maybe the bad press will be that instead of informing their fans of the safety of the wrestlers, they decided to pull the wool over our eyes and lie about Reigns being pulled so we assume the match is not happening. People will then think using a pandemic to pull the wool over our eyes was done in such bad faith. I don’t know what the angle they will decide to go with, but I know that there will unfortunately always be something that will be revealed about Reigns, because he is supposed to be a real villain, and lately he has been seen as a good company man and not talking down to fans. I feel like we are in the conspiracy era, and by the way it feels like America, which I have pointed out is like the attitude era just a little before Trump was becoming a political figure, and now in the world we are in the era of WCW shutting things down for couple of weeks and they rebooted it to start over with Russo and Bischoff. 

So I will be happy to talk more about wrestling but if you haven’t noticed and you can tell when I am reading, that I will probably mess up 15 times because even though this sounded good in my head writing it, it will not sound as clear because I tend to adlib a lot. But this podcast is a fucking failure and no one wants my vision of podcasts because it is not good enough until I give into how they want me to do it because it is not simple enough for them to move on to a next podcast but because they have entitlement issues over me, they think it has to be catered to people who have verbally jumped me everytime I log on, and then if they give me criticism I am supposed to just take their judgement as is and not add any context why i don’t react well to people telling me what I should do. If you are a real supporter of mine, you will understand the journey I am taking, and if you actually have respect for my mental health you will stop pressuring me to have guests and take calls when most of it is just trolling and not even anything creative. Why do you need to be a part of everything I do? Stop trying to bully me into doing it your way. I don’t care if people listen or not, I just want to express myself in a more healthier fashion than having to be reeled into drama on periscope and it is becoming so fucking sickening having to guess who is setting me up, are people confiding in me, knowing my shit is tapped, am I being put through morality tests. Sorry if me expressing my mental health is too fucking boring for you. Maybe some of you shouldn’t be part of my life. I will probably end up failing with this anyways. I fail at everything. I will probably fail at failing, because that’s how much of a god damn failure I am. 

[allaroundmelbourne]

Why millennials are using the word 'partner'

According to data compiled by Google Trends, the search term "my partner" has been steadily gaining traction: it's more than eight times more popular today than it was 15 years ago. "There are so many words that you first hear and think, 'That's weird.' Then they begin to seem more normal," said Deborah Tannen, a professor of linguistics at Georgetown, who studies the language of relationships. "That's definitely happened with the word 'partner'." Originally used to describe a business relationship, "partner" was slowly adopted by the gay community in the US in the mid to late 1980s, said Michael Bronski, a professor of women and gender studies at Harvard University. As the AIDS epidemic rattled the country, he added, it became critical for gay people to signal the seriousness of their romantic relationships, both to healthcare professionals to gain access at hospitals, and, eventually, to their employers, once companies began to extend healthcare benefits to domestic partners. After the term "domestic partnership" gained significant legal and popular recognition, "partner" became the default word for much of the LGBT community until same-sex marriage was legalised. Loading More recently, straight couples have started saying "partner", with the term gaining most traction among young people in highly educated, liberal enclaves. On certain college campuses, several students said, it would come across as strange, even rude, to use the terms "boyfriend" or "girlfriend" in lieu of the more inclusive, gender-neutral "partner". "At Harvard, everyone is very polite and liberal," Bronski said. The clearest explanation for the word's spike in popularity is the lack of any other good options. Unmarried people in serious relationships, in particular, face a gaping linguistic hole. "Boyfriend" and "girlfriend" are too high school. "Significant other" sounds like it belongs on a legal document. "Lover" connotes too much sex for everyday use; "companion", not enough. "Partner", on the other hand, implies a set of values that many couples find appealing. "It's a word that says, 'We are equal components of this relationship,'" said Katie Takakjian, a 25-year-old lawyer based in Los Angeles, who started using the term "partner" while interviewing at law firms. One of the youngest students in her law school's graduating class, Takakjian told me, she worried the word "boyfriend" could make her seem even younger. For a long time, a wedding was the only way to signal the depth and seriousness of a romantic relationship, said Amy Shackelford, founder and CEO of the feminist wedding planning company Modern Rebel. "But we work with couples who get married six years, nine years, 12 years, after they started dating," she told me. "You think they weren't serious before then?" The word "partner," she said, gives couples the power to publicly announce a lasting adult commitment, without an engagement or a wedding. If the couple does decide to get married, the ceremony itself serves not to solidify the relationship, but to celebrate it, surrounded by family and friends. Many couples continue to use the word "partner" even after they're married. Shackelford, who got married in November, has a visceral negative reaction to the words "husband" and "wife". Unmarried people in serious relationships, in particular, face a gaping linguistic hole. "Those words carry a lot of baggage," she said, conjuring 1950s images of the man who comes home expecting dinner on the table; the woman who bears sole responsibility for raising the children. If Takakjian gets married, she also plans to continue using the word "partner," especially at work. "There is still so much societal pressure for a woman to step back at work once she gets married," she said. Takakjian worries about the stereotypes that partners at her firm many of whom are white men over 50 associate with the word "wife". "They might think, 'Now she's probably thinking about babies, she's probably going to quit. We don't need to put her on the important cases, we don't need to give her as many opportunities." The word "partner", Takakjian said, could be one way to challenge those assumptions. The growing preference for "partner" over "husband" and "wife" could suggest a shift that goes beyond labels and language. When Time magazine asked readers in 2010 whether marriage was becoming obsolete, 39 per cent said yes - up from 28 per cent when Time posed the same question in 1978. Millennials, who are marrying later in life than any previous generation, increasingly view the institution as "dated", said Andrew Cherlin, a professor of sociology and the family at Johns Hopkins University. Loading "If you get married in your 20s, and you're part of a college-educated crowd, it might feel old-fashioned or even embarrassing to admit that you're married." Because today's young newlyweds are far less eager to trumpet their marital status, he told me, they're gravitating to "partner". But some members of the LGBT community are skeptical. "It's a joke we all know," said Sean Drohan, a teacher based in New York City who identifies as gay. "If I was making a movie for a gay audience, and a straight couple introduced themselves as partners, that would definitely get a laugh." For most of his life, Drohan told me, he assumed he'd never be able to get married, and struggled with which words to attach to his romantic relationships, present and future. His father, he remembers, used the word "lover", which felt awkward and strangely disparaging. Gay people, he said, "have had the experience of treading weirdly over different words", ultimately finding "partner". "That was our word," he said. "And it kind of sucks for other people to want in on that." He is especially dubious of people who use the term as what he calls a "performance of wokeness", an attempt to publicly showcase their progressive worldview. "If they want to say 'partner', people of relative privilege should take a moment to reflect on their word choice," Coco Romack wrote for Broadly last year. "It never hurts to check yourself by asking, 'Why am I choosing to identify this way?'" Drohan knows many straight people have good answers to that question. He finds the most obvious one particularly compelling. "There is no non-marriage marriage term, for anyone," Drohan said. "So on a logistical level, 'partner' just makes sense." The Washington Post Most Viewed in Lifestyle Loading https://www.theage.com.au/lifestyle/life-and-relationships/why-millennials-are-using-the-word-partner-20190212-p50x79.html?ref=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_source=rss_lifestyle