**Beneath the Flag**
O land of promise, bold and bright,
Your stars once blazed a hopeful light,
But shadows fall where dreams decay,
As gilded hopes drift far away.
Skies of blue and fields of green,
Hide truths beneath a painted scene,
Where wealth divides, and justice sways,
And voices fade in endless haze.
Cities hum and highways roar,
Yet many struggle, wanting more;
The streets are paved with stories lost,
And freedom bears a quiet cost.
A land of plenty, yet denied,
Where broken dreams and secrets hide.
...Where hope and hardship still collide.
......Where shadows linger, hope entwined.
Where hands reach out but come back bare,
And promises hang in the air,
A country torn, a dream betrayed,
As weary hearts still hope for aid.
Disorganized (aka fearful-avoidant) attachment style is overanalyzing/overcorrecting when you think your partner might be pulling away from you, but then pulling away from them when they draw close to you.
It is both craving AND fearing intimacy so deeply that you grip people tight in your hands lest they leave you, but keep them at an arms length lest they love you.
@Bambi: decorum? in this economy? went bankrupt. it's all about debauchery now
OMG I love this so much!
“Can’t You Just…”
A shrug, a grin, “You’re better, see?”
Dropped the ball—again—carefree.
Burnt the toast, forgot the chore,
Left the mess and asked for more.
A tangled web of small mistakes,
Too many spills, too few breaks.
The other watches, calm in face,
But furious deep beneath the grace.
“It’s not on purpose,” they insist,
While every task is somehow missed.
Funny how the job goes fine
When no one's watching, drawing the line.
A clumsy act, rehearsed, refined—
A quiet scheme that’s undermined.
It isn’t skill they lack or lose,
It’s choice—they’ve learned to not to choose.
So one picks up what’s left behind,
The weight, the work, the ties that bind.
It’s not that they can’t carry their share—
It’s knowing someone else will care.
@Eric Michael: You can’t logic someone out of a position they didn’t logic themselves into.
"Areseta and Serenata- Goddess of War and Honor standing beside her wife, the Goddess of Peace. A reminder that we wage war for the hope of a longer peace; that we inflict violence so that we might have more peace. two sides of the same coin, that coin is something that is required to even think about joining the Warriors Guild."
Read this somewhere, forgot where, but I'm sure the internet knows and will be willing to tell
The weapon isn’t sharp,
but it wounds all the same—
innocence worn
like a well-practiced game.
A smile, a shrug,
a task left undone,
they play the fool
but they've already won.
Each failure rehearsed,
each “oops” on display,
leaving the other
to clean up, to stay.
They dodge the load
with a clumsy excuse,
while someone else tightens
what they set loose.
It’s not lack of skill,
nor honest mistake—
it’s a quiet control
they refuse to forsake.
The cost isn't loud,
but it's heavy with strain,
a silent exchange
of effort and pain.
So call it what is—
not careless or dense,
but a choice to avoid
by feigned incompetence.
And the one who bears it
feels furious within,
caught in a loop
they didn’t begin.
I am deceased, six feet under, my ashes are
s p r e a d
OMG this masterpiece! Chef's kiss ❤️🔥
No one was supposed to CARE. They NEVER care. NEVER ask questions. They look, at the red shoes, the note, then shrug it all off. Just another statistic. One more gone, of an already "dying breed".
The Quirkless had been a "dying breed" for a while now.
He bet they didn't even know where that phase came from. It was WAR propaganda. Quirkless population numbers were supposed to level out a decade ago, according to estimates. But noooo! They kept DROPPING!
Dropping, Dropping, DROPPING!
Like notebooks and little boys off roof tops.
No Heroes coming to save them. Smiles for everyone ELSE. Just burns and bad grades they didn't earn, ruined lunches and funeral flowers on desks. Kicking and kicking and PUNCHS until they break! Until they fight back. Until THEY are the problem. THEY are the monsters!
Dreams destroyed and online friends who go silent.
Funerals. Mothers who cry but don't protect you.
ANGER and where are the HEROES?
She is... she is standing HERE. Arms crossed. Mouth in a furious line as she listens to the principal spew his excuses. She does not look like she believes a single one. Does not look sympathetic or dismissive in the least.
The disgusting trash around her isn't used to it. Are slowly beginning to sweat. Panic. It is beginning to dawn on them... that there could be CONSEQUENCES for their actions. Their criminal neglect and cruel allowances.
She looks disgusted. Furious. And... when she glances at the supposed last words of Hanako-chan? Utterly heartbroken. She stands, feet planted, shoulders back, as she argues and pulls rank. Threatening to ARREST even the police officers THEMSELVES unless they DO THEIR JOBS.
As is her RIGHT. Because this is not JUSTICE. Nor Vengance. But can bring, at least, closure to the soul of a little girl wronged. Prevent others from harm. And she stands as a shield against that harm. It is her JOB, her DUTY, and so help her, if she must hunt each and every one of them down and HAND DELIVER them to a cell? She WILL.
She stands there, in the cold afternoon light, like...
He has to slap both his hands over his mouth. To stop his dreadful muttering habit from escaping again. He... he hasn't found anything INTERESTING enough to mutter about in so LONG. Gotten out of the habit of controlling it. His control is shot. And... and OH~!
Ever since Kacc-... Since All Mi... THEM. He hasn't... hasn't BELIEVED in Heros like he used too. He WANTED too! He did! But...? It was like it just... died inside him. Slowly. Painfully. Screaming.
It HURT.
It hurt so, so much. Everything was angry and grey and TERRIBLE. B...But? But! BUT NOW? It's like a giddy spark of light has struck a match inside the empty cavern inside him, lighting up the massive caves where his belief once lived. I..It's so small and fragile. So WARM.
He scrambles back. Hands pressed to his mouth, eyes shut tight, uncaring of the rough brick he's pressed too as he slides to the wet ground. It scrapes him up. But what's a few more scrapes amongst the rest? He's always hurt. It's his life. It's ALL their lives.
He breathes. Savors the fragile warmth in his chest.
"Hey, are you okay?" That voice. No, no it can't be... his eyes shoot open. Startled he looks up. Directly... into... a.. mask.. "You're looking pretty banged up. My Quirk doesn't have many medical uses, so unless you think you've cracked a bone or something, I hope you're good with band-aids. Fair warning though. All the Froppy one's are already gone. Kid's LOVE frogs."
It IS. His Hero. THE Hero. She must have finished up. Noticed him somehow. Sloppy...
Ah!
Already kneeling, she gently takes his hand. Is already pulling out a medical kit from her thigh pouch. He spots "good job!" Stickers and a few lollipops. He... he has QUESTIONS. For the first time in YEARS. Who is she? What school did she go too? What Quirk does she have? Where does she work out off?
Is it a one off? Would she care AGAIN? Her hands are firm but gentle. She keeps him "distracted". Asking him inane questions to take his mind off his pain. Kind. So KIND~! He manages to get her Hero name before she goes. Sends her off with a smile that hurts his face. Reminds him how many years it's BEEN since he's truely grinned.
He races home. Fingers flying on his phone. His lieutenant can deal with Hanako. Get her settled with her new family. He... he NEEDS too... TOO-!
He SLAMS his shoebox of an apartment open, ignoring the bellowed demands and insults of the filth that live around him. It's only muscle memory that has him locking the dozen locks behind him, to keep out the scum that would attempt to prey upon him.
He... he NEEDS-!
His "work" laptop. So bleeding edge I-island will be cursing their own bigotry for centuries. If only out of GREED. They don't know what they've lost by turning down those engineers and applicants. But Izuku does. He collects them ALL.
And now it pays off once again.
It take less then a moment. Easier then breathing. And he has EVERYTHING.
Her arrests records. Her case load. Her school records and medical files. Social media. Current audio book. Hero ranking, media presence, the chatter about Her online. EVERYTHING.
A "troublemaker" who wouldn't shut up about the injustice she saw around her. Wouldn't stand for it. Got into fights to protect the weak and defenseless. Helped where she could. It put her on the wrong side of the narrative. When she wouldn't shut up about how everything WASN'T fine and what those in power were doing was WRONG.
She was a child, they were not. She HAD the option to shut up and pick her own future over the well being of those around her.
She chose to be a HERO instead.
But... but Aaah~♡ she was so COOL! Didn't give up! She sued. Made a RACKET. And when it got her record wiped but not her chance to enter any Japanese Hero school reinstated? She took the winnings from her lawsuit, her parents reluctant consent, and WENT ABROAD.
Came BACK with a hero license that the Japanese government had to recognize as per international accords. Let her take the final test HERE.
They BURIED her in the rankings. Must HATE her. A real hero, come to SHAME THEM for all they've become~♡ Or, well, HE thinks she will. How can she NOT? When she is so much BETTER?
He needs everything. Bedspread, pillows, posters, sweaters, slippers, MERCH! There's not enough. He should commission some. Where are his notebooks? Ah, no. He needs a NEW one! A better notebook! Oh! Oh! He could COMMISSION a notebook! Oh that's PERFECT!
He may have just met her today?
But he can already TELL~ He's gonna be her NUMBER 1 fan!
"I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory
When’s it gonna get me?
In my sleep? Seven feet ahead of me?
If I see it comin’, do I run or do I let it be?
Is it like a beat without a melody?
See, I never thought I’d live past twenty
Where I come from some get half as many
Ask anybody why we livin’ fast and we laugh, reach for a flask
We have to make this moment last, that’s plenty
Scratch that
This is not a moment, it’s the movement
Where all the hungriest brothers with
Something to prove went?
Foes oppose us, we take an honest stand
We roll like Moses, claimin’ our promised land
And? If we win our independence?
Is that a guarantee of freedom for our descendants?
Or will the blood we shed begin an endless
Cycle of vengeance and death with no defendants?
I know the action in the street is excitin’
But Jesus, between all the bleedin’ ‘n fightin’
I’ve been readin’ ‘n writin’
We need to handle our financial situation
Are we a nation of states? What’s the state of our nation?
I’m past patiently waitin’. I’m passionately
Smashin’ every expectation
Every action’s an act of creation!
I’m laughin’ in the face of casualties and sorrow
For the first time, I’m thinkin’ past tomorrow"