#I wanted to use speech bubbles this time but eh

[gelly-art]

Cute date idea: rob a bank together.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #gale #tav #drow #my tav #zumara #playthrough 2 #I wanted to use speech bubbles this time but eh #I'm gonna be wildly inconsistent with the way I draw Astarion's hair bear with me

[silverskull]

hey can you do a future fic where Angela speaks at Tim’s wedding as his “best women” and the speech be emotional as fuckkkkk

This prompt was just too enthusiastic to pass up. Thank you, Nonnie. I know you sent this on the FIRST OF JANUARY, but better late than never… eh? It took a little gear grinding, but I eventually got back into the writing flow!

Full fic below the cut, or HERE on AO3 (kudos, comments and reblogs loved and adored! 💖)

“I don’t give a damn.”

“You give so many damns they’re visible from space.”

Tim rolled his eyes at Angela, working hard not to choke on his mouthful of coffee at the same time. She might be right, but it would never do to let her actually know that she was. He set his mug down on his office desk, studiously ignoring her, and shuffling through the manila folders in his inbox instead.

“Are you inviting Talia?”

“She’s on the list.”

“Good. Then she’ll get this.”

Angela chewed the end of her pen thoughtfully, staring at the writing in the incongruously pink notebook in her other hand. She seemed to come to some sort of conclusion, nodding firmly, before scribbling rapidly on the next blank page. She’d made herself perfectly at home in Tim’s office, slouched in the chair opposite his desk, one leg slung lazily over the armrest, and there didn’t seem to be any way for him to remove her without physically ejecting the entire chair from the room.

It was his own fault, really.

He could have chosen anyone - Thorsen would have done whatever he asked, and, given his history, probably funded the entire endeavour just for the privilege. Genny was an obvious option, or even one of his nephews - the role would have been ceremonial, and Tim could still have control over everything. Lucy had actually suggested Grey, who would have been perfect… if only Tim hadn’t already asked Angela.

And now she had inserted herself into what seemed like his every waking moment, alternatively referring to herself as his ‘Best Woman’, ‘Groom's Girl’, ‘Chief Chick’, or, with what was becoming frightening regularity, ‘Maid of Awesomeness’.

“I’m definitely running with the ‘hot pants’ joke,” Angela concluded aloud, ticking a section of the page with visible satisfaction.

Tim fixed his eyes on his computer screen, scrolling blindly through the afternoon’s unread emails.

“Do whatever you want. I’ve told you: I don’t give a damn.”

“Oh but you will,” Angela drawled, glancing up at him from the corner of her eye. “You. Will.”

***

“...and he says ‘hot pants?’, right? Like a question! Like he didn’t just completely ignore the paragraphs about it in the group chat a few months earlier! The full-on emoji text chains! The links to several unquestionable websites! So, the bachelorette squad comes as a complete shock to him when he rolls up to us in the shop at two am!”

Angela had the crowd practically crying with laughter, and Tim could see Noah and June lurching with mirth in their chairs, slapping the table, the crystal champagne glasses on the surface ringing with the vibration. Under their own table, he slipped his hand around Lucy’s waist, settling his fingers against the lace dress covering her upper thighs. He pressed his nose against her neck, burying his embarrassment in the curls of her hair, and she raised her hand to his cheek, holding him close as her giggles bubbled low in her throat, tingling against the skin on his lips.

“Ignore her,” she whispered.

“Absolutely not,” he replied, pinching her thigh mischievously and raising his lips to her ear. “She’s right. I missed a lot. In fact, I think I’m going to need a thorough revision course. And, you’ll remember, I learn best by doing.”

Lucy snorted, her cheeks turning an alluring shade of pink, and she slapped him on the chest, shoving him firmly away from her. He moved with her, rolling back and smirking, then sliding his hand up to her neck. Her smiling lips were too good to resist, and he drew her towards him for a quick kiss, resting his nose against hers and letting her eyes blur into warm, brown pools before him.

“And as sickeningly lovey-dovey as they are today, you might be surprised to learn that it wasn’t always this way…” Angela tapped her notecards pointedly on the mic stand and Tim heard Bailey stifle a giggle at the table in front of them. He straightened his jacket with one hand, clearing his throat and turning ever-so-slightly away from Lucy and towards Angela.

Angela narrowed her eyes at him, tossing her hair over one shoulder and turning back to the crowd.

“It was hard to say, at first, which one of them annoyed the other more. Smart money would have been on Tim - the hardass TO with a record number of washouts. The man loves a challenge, and finding flaws in the knowledge of one of the brightest young things to graduate the Academy this decade was like catnip for him. He couldn’t resist tormenting her.”

Tim could see Bailey again, turning to Nolan beside her and raising her eyebrows quizzically. Nolan shook his head and dropped it into his hands, massaging a point on his forehead as if the memory was physically hurting him. Tim grinned.

“But Lucy didn’t just roll over and take it,” Angela continued, interrupting Tim’s hazy memory of Lucy, framed outside the passenger window of their shop and hurrying alongside him while the sun beat mercilessly down on her long, wool sleeves. “Oh no. Lucy Chen gave the betting pool a run for their money. Am I right, Smitty? Not that there’s a betting pool in the office or anything, Sarge…” Angela pursed her lips and frowned in feigned seriousness at Grey, who, like Nolan, now also had his eyes covered. It did nothing to put a halt to Angela’s gallop.

“This woman stole her training officer's wallet - picked his damn pocket in the middle of a brawl, and kept it secret until he realised he couldn’t pay for his dinner. She abandoned him with her beer tab on Plain Clothes Day, detonated powder in his face the night she made P2, and bribed her way into short sleeves by setting him up on a successful date. By the way - hey, Rachel! Long time, no see.” Angela waved airily at a table near the back of the room, while Tim tried, unsuccessfully, to keep a straight face. Lucy had thrown her head back in gales of laughter, one hand pressed to her chest, where his engagement ring glinted and glimmered in the reflected light of the chandeliers.

It drew his eyes to the gold wedding band just below it, freshly polished and perfectly sized. He was reaching for her hand before he even realised what he was doing, stroking his thumb along the smooth metal and drawing her knuckles to his lips. She curled her fingers around his, tipping her head towards him and letting him pull her close.

This - this moment here with her, in front of their friends and family - was worth a thousand of her powder bombs. A million.

He’d pay her back, of course. 

But he’d take as good as he gave - something he hadn’t even realised about himself until he met Lucy. Who’d have thought he could make it to his late thirties, through a troubled childhood, two tours in the Middle East, and a broken marriage, and still have things to learn about himself? So many years spent weaving his tough, protective cocoon, building up the hard-knocks and hard-laughs persona that culminated in TO Bradford, only to find the catalyst for his metamorphosis right there in the passenger’s seat of his shop.

His bride. His wife.

His Lucy.

“But, despite the friction, they settled into an easy rhythm. I saw it, slowly falling into place. Bishop too. Harper had all sorts of blatant and inappropriate questions when she joined the team.” Angela winked at Nyla, who raised her glass in response, a sly grin hidden behind the crystal rim. “And I know he’ll never admit it, but I don’t doubt that Sergeant Grey saw exactly where this was headed long before any of the rest of us. Sir, you’re practically psychic when it comes to teaming people up, and there’s nothing you can do to change my mind.”

Celina was nodding along with Angela’s words, her eyes wide and her mouth tight with reserved laughter. Luna was whispering in her ear, and Grey was trying - and failing - to speed Angela up with a raised finger, circling in the air.

“And we joke. We do. We have good times in our Mid-Wilshire family.” Angela paused as calls of ‘hear hear’ echoed throughout the room and glasses were lifted in an agreeable toast. “But things haven’t always been easy. Not for us. Not for Lucy and Tim. We’ve had our tragedies, and we’ve lost good people along the way. I’d like to direct your attention, and ask you to raise your glasses, to the couple’s ‘In Memoriam’ shrine, and particularly our colleagues… our friends: Captain Zoe Anderson and Officer Jackson West.” 

Quiet murmurs rustled through the crowd as people twisted in their seats to look for the little table Lucy had insisted on setting up near the front of the room. Small flickering tealights and loose white petals artfully surrounded framed pictures of their friends, and it felt, for a moment, as if the ceiling lights above them dimmed and the happy faces of Jackson, Captain Andersen and the others beamed brighter, smiling their approval through the insubstantially thin veil that separated them.

Lucy turned to Tim then, dipping her head against his shoulder and dropping his hand to swipe her own fingers across her cheek. He caught the momentary sheen of tears below her lashes, and he wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, pulling her closer to him and into the space below his shoulder where she fit just-so. He felt her hand stretch up along his back, latching onto his neck for support, and he raised his lips to her forehead, dropping a comforting kiss onto the crown of her head.

“I can tell you - if either of them were with us today, I wouldn’t be up here entertaining you all by myself. Both Jackson and Captain Andersen would have had plenty to say about this particular turn of events.” Angela smirked at Tim again, and he heard Lucy give a constricted laugh from her perch at his shoulder.

“But that’s not to say that it was entirely unexpected. These two have been through their fair share - more than fair, even - of troubles. Neither of you-” she turned to wave her notecards at both Lucy and Tim “-have seen the other when one of you is missing. And it’s a testament to your flair for thrill-seeking that this has happened more than once.”

“Bad-Luck magnets!” Smitty yelled, from the back of the hall.

Angela allowed a brief chuckle to pass through the crowd before she became solemn again.

“But seriously. You’ve come through the worst things life could throw at you - anyone’s worst fears - and you’ve come out stronger for it. We’ve all witnessed it. Tim, I know you would move heaven and earth for Lucy; and hell would freeze over before Lucy would leave Tim behind. It’s inspirational. It’s powerful. And it’s a little scary, not gonna lie.”

Tim allowed himself a quick laugh, tightening his grip around Lucy’s waist, and imagining the sparkle of her moonstone ring on the fingers gently combing through the hairs on the back of his head. She leaned closer to him, her cheek resting just above the collar of his dress shirt, and he pushed away the thoughts, dark and intrusive, of what his life would be like if he hadn’t found that ring. If she hadn’t thought to drop it for him. If the trust between them wasn’t so strong, so unshakeable, that it kept her believing he’d come for her, even as her own breath slowly started to poison her and the sun sank low over the endless, barren desert, leaving him chasing the shadows of his own fear.

A cold shiver ran down his spine, and Lucy, ever observant, sat up, tilting her head to catch his eye with a quizzical brow. He gave a small shake of the head, raising his hand from her waist to her neck, and he brushed his lips against her forehead again, steadying himself with her warmth, her fragrance, and her proximity.

She was here. She was here. She was here, and she was safe and they were surrounded by support and love, and that was all that mattered.

Lucy settled back against his side as Angela continued, and Tim let his hand drift along the cool skin of her arm and down into its home on the curve of her hip.

“All of which brings us neatly back to Hot Pants here, and her lovely husband, Handsy.”

The crowd erupted into laughter, partly at Angela’s nonchalant delivery, partly in relief at being back from the brink of horrors past. Tim reached for his glass and took a fortifying sip of his champagne, as Lucy, amused, tapped her thumb at the base of his neck.

“You know, for all I said earlier about the inevitability of this whole relationship, I think there are a couple of people that deserve the real credit for finally propelling these two numbskulls into action. Raise a glass with me, if you will, for Jake Butler, RIP, and Sava Wu, MIA.”

A split in the crowd quickly became apparent, with the Mid-Wilshire gang laughing and toasting energetically, while their friends from outside the station clinked glasses in confusion, with puzzled looks and whispered questions.

“It’s a shame LA CLEAR shut down the airing of that documentary for operational security reasons,” Angela continued “But for those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, suffice it to say that these two dummies had to go undercover together -  to Las Vegas, of all places - and they thought a solid method of preparation was to get together and practise. kissing.”

Uproarious laughter filled the room, and, at her table, Tamara dropped her head onto her hands, her eyes squeezed shut and her shoulders shaking with laughter. Tim could feel his cheeks grow red again, and he turned to Lucy, who was also giggling, one elbow resting on his shoulder, with the back of her hand covering her mouth. She glanced at him, her eyes sparkling beneath her dark lashes, and he suddenly found that he didn’t care what anyone else thought. This whole room could yuck it up together at his expense, but he was the only one who Lucy looked at like that. The only one who got to kiss her lips, and cradle her hips and inhale the scent of the skin in the well of her collarbones.

The only one who got to wear her ring.

“None of us were ever privy to exactly what went on after that. There was a little bit of separation, some partner reshuffling, and a lot of stupidly longing glances across the bullpen - yes, we all saw you,” Angela addressed this last part directly to Tim and Lucy, rolling her eyes before turning back to the mic. “But somehow or other, before we knew it, we were all conniving to bump Tim out of Lucy’s chain of command, and the two of them started arriving to work, more often than not, in the same vehicle.”

Angela paused to take a drink from her champagne flute, and the crowd waited patiently, eager to hear what secrets she’d spill next. Tim felt Lucy’s foot stroke the back of his calf, hidden from sight beneath the draped folds of the tablecloth, and he cleared his throat and tried, heroically, to focus his attention back on Angela.

“And somehow, all of that has led us here, today. To this room and this celebration. It’s been a long road, with plenty of obstacles, and I don’t doubt that you two will have more to come. All I can wish for you is this: May the road rise to meet you, and the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face. May the rain fall softly on the field of your love, and until we meet again-” Angela turned to lift her glass to the crowd, who, by some unspoken agreement, had decided to rise to their feet and raise their glasses in response. “May you be safe. May you be cherished. And may you always be this loved. To Tim and Lucy!”

The crowd repeated Angela’s toast, cheering and clapping for them, and Tim felt the uncanny sensation that his heart was about to burst out of his chest. His breath was tight, his eyes unexpectedly blurry, and it took Lucy’s hand on his jaw, physically turning him towards her, to snap him out of it.

He had a brief glimpse of her face, beaming with happiness, her eyes locked on his, before she pulled him down for a kiss. Their lips met, soft and warm and champagne-sweet, and the rush of blood in his ears slowed to match the steady rhythm of the pulse below her skin. He inhaled deeply, vanilla frosting and floral bouquet and Lucy - just Lucy - warm and familiar and ever inviting. He kissed her again, quickly, smiling, then hooked her fingers through his own, guiding her upright and presenting her to their friends with a flourish.

The cheering increased in volume, Thorsen’s sharp wolf-whistle piercing through the applause, and Tim took a moment to nod towards Angela. She winked at him, dropping her notecards into her clutch, and he mouthed a silent ‘thank you’.

He’d made the right choice, with her, after all.

And as Lucy tugged on his hand, turning him towards her for yet another public kiss, he couldn’t help feeling like he’d made the right choice over and over again; finally finding his place in the world. His people. His family. The loving home he’d been searching for ever since he was a small boy.

And here, now, with those same friends and family, and Lucy - his Lucy - he allowed himself to celebrate that home. To let his friends cheer as he made his vows and placed his ring and kissed his wife.

His love.

His life.

His forever.

#chenford #chenford fic #my fic

[eyedelater]

let's study japanese by reading golden kamuy.

specifically, let's look at how noda-sensei added a bunch of lines to the scene where ogata hyakunosuke kills his father. i have included the pages in question here for your reference. he added quite a lot of dialogue. the anime goes by the volume version of the manga, so i believe most of these lines were spoken verbatim in the anime, but japanese is so full of homophones that it can be hard to learn new words just by listening. so let's read.

this is not the beginning of the scene, but this is where the dialogue additions begin. i wanted to make a post about this because EH scans never covered these lines-- at this point in the story, they were using magazine scans, not volume scans. as far as i know, only viz and various anime subs have translated this part. and i don't think viz did a very good job. so i wanted to put my translation out there for people who want to waste even more time thinking about ogata hyakunosuke and what he Really Said. but i'm not going to bother with a typeset version of just 5 pages. and i'm not going to go find this scene in the anime to compare the translation of the subs. and keep in mind that i'm a novice.

here are the lines in order, starting at the top of the first page. yes i really typed out and analyzed them one by one like this. (i typed them out so you can copy-paste the kanji to look them up if you want... i hate having to look up kanji radical by radical...) a slash indicates a split in a compound speech bubble. these slashes may or may not indicate the end of a sentence. (japanese uses punctuation sparsely and you have to kind of feel out where the sentence ends sometimes, so speech bubble breaks are worth noting.)

raw: 父上と本妻との間に生まれた息子さん…… / 花沢勇作少尉が高潔な人物だったことも証明している気がします phonetic: chichiue to honsai to no aida ni umareta musukosan...... / hanazawa yuusaku shoui ga kouketsu na jinbutsu datta to mo shoumei shiteiru ki ga shimasu my translation: The son that was born to you, father, and your real wife... I think the fact that Second Lieutenant Hanazawa Yuusaku was such a noble character is proof of that. viz's translation: That's why your legitimate son… / …second lieutenant Yusaku Hanazawa was such a principled individual. notes: when he says "proof of that," ogata is using yuusaku's virtue as evidence to back up the claim he just made that a child born to parents who love each other is blessed. also, this line wasn't an addition compared to the magazine version, but rather, it was changed. however, i lost track of the magazine version raw of this chapter for comparison.

raw: 入隊して初めて会いましたが / 面をくらいましたよ phonetic: nyuutai shite hajimete aimashita ga / men wo kuraimashita yo my translation: I met him for the first time when I enlisted, / and I was taken aback. viz's translation: I met him when I joined the military… / …and I was stunned. notes: it seems the usual way of phrasing "men wo kuraimashita" would be more like "menkurau" so the "wo" stuck in there confused me... anyway it means "taken aback" or "bewildered."

raw: 「規律がゆるみますから」と何度注意しても部下の俺を… / 「兄様」と呼ぶのです phonetic: [kiritsu ga yurumimasu kara] to nando chuui shitemo buka no ore wo... / [anisama] to yobu no desu my translation: Even though I warned him many times that it would "weaken his discipline," / he called me, his subordinate, "big brother." viz's translation: I warned him that it was bad for discipline… / …but he called me his big brother. notes: i think it's notable that ogata refers to himself as yuusaku's subordinate ("buka"). that was omitted by the viz translation, probably in the name of dumbing it down clarity. the fact that yuusaku outranked hyakunosuke is really important to the relationship between them. obviously it made hyakunosuke feel even worse about himself, but he hides that.

raw: 「ひとりっ子育ちでずっと兄弟が欲しかった」と / 俺にまとわり付くのです phonetic: [hitorikko sodachi de zutto kyoudai ga hoshikatta] to / ore ni matowaritsuku no desu my translation: He said, "I was raised an only child, so I always wanted a brother," / and he clung to me. viz's translation: He'd always wanted a brother… / …so he clung to me. notes: matowaritsuku, "to coil about; to follow about; to surround; to cling to." maybe this line was added just to be heartbreaking.

raw: あの屈託の無い笑顔…… phonetic: ano kuttaku no nai egao...... my translation: That carefree smile...... viz's translation: He had an honest smile. notes: kuttaku no nai means carefree, and it doesn't mean honest. don't make a mistranslation and then bold it. they bolded it! isn't that embarrassing? also they vaporized the powerful double ellipsis. lame.

raw: 「ああこれが両親から祝福されて生まれた子供なのだ……」と / 心底納得しました phonetic: [aa kore ga ryoushin kara shukufuku sarete umareta kodomo nanoda......] to / shinsoko nattoku shimashita my translation: "Ah, so this is a child who was blessed from birth by both parents……" / I accepted that deep in my heart. viz's translation: I realized deep inside that here was a child blessed with the love… / …of both parents. notes: nattoku "understanding; satisfaction (e.g. with an explanation); being convinced​." so seeing yuusaku's carefree smile and affectionate behavior, ogata took that as evidence affirming his theory about being born blessed; he accepted that yuusaku was blessed and took it to prove that he, by comparison, must not have been blessed.

raw: ところで / 花沢勇作少尉が二〇三高地でどうやって亡くなったか… // 父上は本当のことをご存じ無いはずだ phonetic: tokoro de / hanazawa yuusaku shoui ga nihyakusan kouchi de dou yatte nakunatta ka... // chichiue ha hontou no koto wo gozonji nai hazu da my translation: By the way... / About how Second Lieutenant Hanazawa Yuusaku really died at 203 Hill... // You probably don't know the truth of the matter. viz's translation: Do you want… / …to know the truth about how he died… // …on 203 Meter Hill? notes: here the // indicates that it was two separate speech bubbles, because even though i was giving each speech bubble its own entry, the viz translation combined two separate speech bubbles into one sentence! so i had to put them in one entry. anyway, it's plain to see how much viz dumbed it down... try to keep some of the sentence structure, maybe?

raw: 俺が後頭部を撃ち抜きました phonetic: ore ga koutoubu wo uchinukimashita my translation: I shot him through the back of the head. viz's translation: I plugged him in the back of the head. notes: listening to this line in the anime, i was chilled by how ogata conjugated the nasty verb "uchinuku" (to shoot through) with the polite verb ending "mashita." he's using mostly polite speech to speak to his father in this scene, despite everything. so that's one reason i don't like how viz used the nasty slang term "plugged" here. yes, both lines are nasty, but the politeness is what is striking.

raw: 少尉殿に対する妬みからじゃありません / 父上を苦しませたい…というのともちょっと違う / ただひとつ確かめてみたかった phonetic: shouidono ni taisuru sonemi kara ja arimasen / chichiue wo kurushimasetai... to iu no to mo chotto chigau / tada hitotsu tashikamete mitakatta my translation: It wasn't because I held any jealousy toward the second lieutenant. And it wasn't quite… that I wanted to make you suffer, father. There was just one thing I wanted to check. viz's translation: Not because I was jealous… / …or because I wanted to make you suffer. / I wanted to check something. notes: based on the way he said it, i think he did want to make his father suffer just a little. he said it was only chotto chigau.

raw: 勇作さんの戦死を聞いたとき… phonetic: yuusaku san no senshi wo kiita toki... my translation: When you heard about Yuusaku-san's death in battle... viz's translation: After you heard about his death in battle...

raw: 父上は俺を想ったのか.../ 無視し続けた妾の息子が急に愛おしくなったのではないかと... phonetic: chichiue ha ore wo omotta no ka... / mushi shitsuzuketa mekake no musuko ga kyuu ni itooshikunatta no de ha nai ka to... my translation: Did you think of me, father? / I thought you might suddenly come to love your long-ignored son of a mistress... viz's translation: …did you think of me? / Did you suddenly feel for the son you had ignored? notes: the phrase "itooshikunatta" is key here. it's from itooshii 愛おしい, "lovely; dear; beloved; darling; dearest," and the "natta" is "became." so it's along the lines of "suddenly became beloved" or "suddenly became dear to you." also he uses the past tense verb "omotta" (thought) but instead of the usual 思 kanji, he uses 想, which jisho.org says "has connotations of heart-felt."

raw: 祝福された道が俺にもあったのか… phonetic: shukufuku sareta michi ga ore ni mo atta no ka... my translation: Was there ever a blessed path for me, too? viz's translation: Was a blessed life ever even possible for me? notes: it's "path" in the metaphorical sense, as in the path you take in life. so translating it as a "blessed life" is acceptable here. and the "too" is probably referring to yuusaku, the blessed child.

now here is something worth noting. hanazawa's last words in this world were changed! well, you'd know if you watched the anime, but anyway, instead of the magazine version, "貴様の言うとおり,冷血で出来損ないの倅じゃ" (It is as you say; you are a cold-blooded and worthless son) it becomes as follows:

raw: 貴様の言うとおり何かが欠けた人間… / 出来損ないの倅じゃ // 呪われろ phonetic: kisama no iu toori nanika ga kaketa ningen... / dekisokonai no segare ja // norowarero my translation: It is as you say; you are missing something as a person… / You are a worthless son. // A curse upon you. viz's translation: You're right. You are missing something. / You're a rotten son… // …and I curse the day you were born! notes: the phrase "dekisokonai" is really cutting. it means, according to jisho.org, "failure; defective article; dead loss; botch​; good-for-nothing; worthless person; flop​." so "worthless" might be an understatement. what it doesn't mean is "rotten," but i digress. the phrase "reiketsu" (冷血, literally and figuratively "cold-blooded") was removed and replaced with the clause about missing something as a person. hanazawa's very last word, and this was added in the volume version as a new speech bubble, is literally "be cursed" (a command). i thought it could've used an exclamation point, but maybe hanazawa didn't have it in him.

the face that hyakunosuke makes immediately after his father's last words was also added in the volume version. what a treat!

i've been reading through the raws and analyzing them like this for a few weeks now. i mean i don't type them all up like this, but i do try to give the more interesting lines a deep read and try to learn a bunch of kanji while i'm at it. there's nothing like trying to read raw manga to make you feel like your 650-day duolingo streak is actually fuuucking worthless. so i'll make more translation notes posts in the future with some interesting lines that may have been translated strangely or incorrectly. specifically i might make a post similar to this one when i get to some more scenes about hyakunosuke and yuusaku (because i think lines were added in later scenes too) and his long talk with usami (where lines were also added). and maybe some scenes with tsukishima and koito. we'll see how long my hyperfixation lasts.

i guess i'll note that the phonetic transliteration of each line is based on my own arbitrary standards and not on any actual standard of writing out romaji (e.g. i tried to put spaces between words... mostly? i typed "wa" as "ha" when it's written with a "ha" hiragana, for no reason in particular... etc.). sorry if it's confusing.

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy translation notes #ogata hyakunosuke #hanazawa yuusaku

[sleazyinnit]

HorrorDust

TAP, TAP, TAP.

He despised the sound of his clawed phalange drumming at the side of his temple in a persistent, steady rhythm. The sound distracted him from his surroundings — it kept him unfocused from the famished hell he used to call his home. 

"heyyyy, big guy, fat guy, wanna hear something funny?"

It also distracted him from the overbearing stupidity that radiated from his new, relatively strange home. Horror turned to his side, glaring hatefully at Killer, who grinned at him with an arrogance that Horror knew was as empty as the eye sockets that leaked a strange, black tar. 

Tap, Tap, Tap.

Disgusting.

"no," he replied. "go away."

"all right, since you're axe-ing for it," Killer said, quick with his speech as he ignored Horror's cold tone. "so, you know how there are, like, universes or whatever, right?"

"i don't care —"

"and, like, those universes are created by these, uh, creators?" Killer shrugged while Horror felt the utter need to bash himself in the head. Maybe this time, it would actually kill him. 

"well, anyway," Killer continued, "apparently, these creators have been going on some creating spree, which is pissing the boss off."

"isn't this a good thing?" Horror indulged himself in the conversation, although a bit reluctant. He realized too late that Killer had been rubbing off on him with his unwanted gossip. "more universes means more negativity."

Killer snickered, leaning on the kitchen counter. "heh, the funny thing is — these new universes are purely pacifist."

"oh." Horror felt the amusement bubble in his throat. "how angry is he?"

"i made a joke about his tentacles again, and he almost severed my arm."

"well deserved." 

"ouch." Killer grinned his usual sharp smile (one that Horror wanted to wipe off with a swing of his axe) and snatched an apple from the kitchen table, dangling it from the stem in front of Horror's face. "that isn't the only thing." The leaky-eyed skeleton chuckled, seemingly disappointed with the lack of reaction from Horror. He took a loud bite from the apple, continuing quickly: "the boss wants to feed from the universes."

"well, i'm not turning them." Horror growled. He loathed how his 'boss' would command him to do things he wouldn't have ever bothered to do — it made him feel like a salivating dog that served its owner without dignity. "why are you telling me this, anyway?"

"he's recruiting a new member."

Horror, usually indulged in his sour attitude, let his agitated, empty grin slip slightly from his face — his engorged eye light giving Killer a scrutinized stare. The knife-wielding skeleton tilted his chin upward, a haughty expression of ego emptied long ago with the once-felt emotions. Other than the evident apathy, Killer was entirely difficult to analyze.

Sensing no reply, Killer took a final, large bite from his apple — studying the plentiful leftovers with what looked like thought. Then, as if an idea had suddenly popped into his skull, his grin widened, giving the trash bin in the far corner a vicious look. Horror squinted his eye sockets. 

"don't you — "

A loud, dull thud cut him off. Horror growled.

"bull's eye!" 

"you're an ass."

"what, mad?" Killer said, wagging his finger in front of Horror's face. "then go and dig it from the bin, buddy."

Horror wrinkled his nose, his grin back on his face. "you would have bin dead if i didn't care so much about my well-being."

"don't wanna' make any t-rash moves, eh?"

"well — "

"MINIONS, GET OVER HERE!"

Horror, shamefully, jumped — a little surprised at the angry boom of his usually level-headed and patient leader. His engorged eye light met Killer's empty eye sockets, questioning. The leaky-eyed skeleton shrugged, snickering:

"we better go check that out."

----------

"out of all the things i was expecting — this was not one of them."

Horror grunted in seldom agreement, clutching the hardwood of his axe with a broad grin and angry eye sockets. He glared, face blank, at the shifting figure of Nightmare, who seemed entirely focused on healing his body of black hatred. The midnight skeleton appeared mildly injured — a few chunks of black sludge missing from his form. Horror searched for any arrows that glowed with positive energy but found none.

That wasn't the most shocking thing, however. It was the writhing, enraged skeleton squirming in the constricting grip of Nightmare's tentacle.

The battered, wounded skeleton seemed to be a regular Sans — the hood of his dusty, bloody jacket on his skull. The most striking thing about the other was his eye lights. They were multicolored, with a bright, angry brilliance that radiated an aura Horror couldn't quite pinpoint. Danger, maybe? Or was it the hunger for torment Horror saw in himself occasionally? He found himself interested in the new Sans.

Killer whistled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he approached the skeleton. 

"heheh, is this our new teammate?" Killer pulled out his knife, poking the feral skeleton, who growled savagely at the leaky-eyed offender. Killer let out a haughty laugh. "damn, feisty too." He dug into his pocket, pulling out a cat treat. He waved the cookie in front of the skeleton. "down, boy, down."

"i hope he bites your damn hand off."

"nah, that's something you would do."

"enough," Nightmare seethed, standing straighter as he finished healing. He grinned triumphantly, glee burning in his icy cyan eye light. "boys, meet dust, our new recruit — "

Killer suddenly burst out laughing, cutting Nightmare off as he pointed a rude finger toward 'Dust.'

"dust??" Killer wheezed. "what kind of dusty-ass name is that??"

"and what's your name? crybaby?" 

Horror blinked, surprised that Dust had recollected himself so quickly. The dusty skeleton dangled quietly from the air — a broad, empty grin wider than even Killer's settled almost neatly on his face. Those multicolored eye lights gleamed brighter. He seemed calm, too — a patience Horror attempted to grasp. 

Killer choked, mock offense heavy on his face. He clicked his tongue. 

"i don't like him. can i kill him?"

"no." Nightmare sent Killer a warning glare. The leader then huffed, moving his gaze to the constricted Dust. 

"welcome to the team, pest."

"charmed." Dust's eye sockets were now lidded as if unbothered and tired. "i'm going to kill you all once i'm healed. i still have the kid to deal with."

"aw, is our widdle dwusty getting pwicked on by a kid?" 

Dust didn't reply, only giving Killer a detached stare. Now bored with the dusty skeleton, Killer turned toward Nightmare.

"now that your harem is bigger — "

"this isn't a harem."

"okay, fine. reverse harem." Killer waved his hand dismissively. "how exactly are we gonna' get that dog to listen to you?"

As Nightmare and Killer bickered and discussed, Horror approached Dust, lowering his axe as the other gave him a slightly suspicious look. Dust seemed utterly relaxed — unbothered by his situation and injuries. Horror knew it wasn't a facade, either, understanding that the Sans had left his once caring sanity long ago.

"hey, pal, i'm horror," Horror grinned viciously, "welcome to your new hell." Dust's strange grin widened, silent, confusing Horror. "i hope you don't ever plan on going back to your old one — the boss ain't letting you go anytime soon."

Dust, once again, remained quiet — unanswering, yet listening. Horror wrinkled his nose, irritated. 

He hated the silent, observant types. In some ways, it reminded him of himself. The axe-wielding skeleton huffed and turned away from Dust, shortcutting to the woods to force down the feelings of fascination that came with the strange Sans.

Whatever — the dusty skeleton would probably end up dead by the end of the week.

----

"where's the bathroom?"

"... what?"

Horror blinked, somewhat irritated, as he stared up from his position on the couch. Dust stood beside him, his burning eye lights giving him an empty stare.

"the bathroom." Dust repeated, monotone. "where is it?"

"go look for it, pal," Horror said, waving him off, "i'm not your personal map."

Dust only stood there, unresponsive, as Horror clicked his tongue.

"buzz. off."

"nah," Dust shrugged, plopping himself directly beside Horror, his eye lights never leaving him. "what are you watching?"

"none of your business."

"huh," Dust tilted his head, lidded eye sockets growing lazier. "never heard that show before."

Horror grumbled, ignoring the other as he focused all his attention on the TV. Dust muttered something, low and inaudible, as Horror propped his elbow on the armrest.

"what kind of universe did you come from?"

Horror wrinkled his nose. This Sans seemed almost as annoying as Killer on a good day — which was impressive. "that's also none of your business."

"papyrus wants to know, though."

Horror turned away from the TV, meeting Dust's gaze as his eye light dilated. It had been a long time since he heard his brother's name — so long that he had almost forgotten the very memories he chose to keep inside. For a moment, he thought of the sadness and regret he thought he should feel. Yet, only a bitterness met his tongue. He paused.

"... the core had failed on us," Horror started, "and we were left to starve 'cause of it." Dust, for a moment, turned his gaze — the bright burn of his eye lights dimming barely. He shifted, contemplative. Then, as if throwing what earlier affliction he had, he spoke, slow and gentle.

"sorry for that."

...

"what?"

"i'm sorry," Dust repeated, "at least i can do something about my underground — there was nothing you could have done."

Stupidly, Horror remained silent, confused by the words of what seemed like compassion. He didn't understand it — he hated pity. It made him weaker by gifting him something he didn't deserve.

Yet, he felt oddly comforted.

"... what happened to your universe?" Horror asked, hesitant.

Dust was a fascination, one he decided to admit to himself at the beginning of an odd yet somewhat reassuring relationship. One day, maybe, he'd get bored entertaining the strange Sans. For now, he could pretend not to enjoy the company of the other. 

#undertale #utmv #horrortale #dusttale #sanscest #horrordust #killer #nightmare #dreamtale #made this at 3 am #so proud

[day0walkersdrafts]

It’s eating cereal that Xavier realizes it. One particularly wet, sloshing scoop of off brand whatever the fuck sugary shit he’s got in his bowl, spoon half in his mouth and eyes distant across the mess hall—it snaps up into his brain like someone put it there, like someone took the thought and none too gently shoved it into his ear; because he certainly never wanted to arrive there on his own.

Benji and Ghost are fucking.

When it does blossom up into a full thought, Xavier drops the spoon and stands up from the table.

“Y’alright, Corporal?” Whoever is speaking sounds distantly far off, but is actually right next to him. Xavier’s giant hand lands on top of the soldier’s head, feels the rough scruff of shorn down hair. Hears their affectionate laugh, feels a gentle swat from their hand to his own wrist.

His brain brings up the image of Benji, wild haired and laughing, Xavier’s hands on his sides, dragging blunt fingernails over soft skin. Nose to nose, both of them a toothy grin. Xavier brushing back that wild hair, tangling fingers into it, their lips about to touch. The warm sensation of his breath against his skin.

Ghost fucking him. Fucking him.

“Alright,” is his reply. “Throw that away for me,” Xavier says, pointing to his half eaten sorry excuse for a breakfast.

“Sure, man.”

It’s autopilot from there to the range.

—

They’re absolutely fucking.

Xavier slaps a magazine into the gun, shoulders it, looks at the little silhouette of a person that serves as a target. Someone’s drawn a speech bubble on it that says yep, yep! which would be ridiculously funny to Xavier if the feeling of nausea wasn’t slowly crawling up his throat. The bullet holes punch through what he wishes was a real skull. The impact would have felt more…satisfying. Instead, he stares at those little black holes, adjusts his grip on the rifle, breathes out slowly.

Doesn’t do enough to stop him from thinking about how absolutely positive he is that Ghost and Benji are fucking.

It had been too casual, the way the two were talking, back in that derelict building. Tossing their sentences back and forth, little clever remarks, little quips—and Xavier’s brain hyper focused on that event. Primarily, the part with the boot on his crotch, but also the part where Benji had given him a scalpel and shown him how to kill people quick; and that had lingered with him far too long, the feel of the mans palm on his hand, the way he moved to the sensitive, soft targets. How badly, in that moment, Xavier wanted to kiss him. But now it was all…

“Shoppin’, then.”

“Pick somethin’ out in my size and color, hey?”

Now, though? He wishes he could relive those moments. Wishes, as he shoots the target again, draws a line across it’s neck to sever the plywood head, he could think about anything other than how obvious it was that these two men were definitely fucking.

“Look, mate, if Ghost — if he spots you?”

Oh, that burned. Licked a forked and deviled tongue up Xavier’s chest, like a razor blade. Cut him open because, he wasn’t Lieutenant Simon Riley to Benji. Was Ghost, eh? Stupid fucking callsign. Xavier punched the trigger a few more times, quick spurts of the assault rifle tearing down the target to shreds. Big bastard. So much bigger than Benji.

“—I’m buyin’ you time, dickhead.”

“Yeah, I bet you fucking are,” Xavier seethes, emptying the last of the magazine. He snatches the soundproofing earmuffs from his head. He’s pouring sweat for some reason, but can’t exactly parse through why. He’d been at the range for under an hour, hadn’t moved from this spot, had only used this one rifle. Xavier’s hand wipes sweat back through his hair as he looks over at the range jockey.

The man’s seated on a metal folding chair, giving him a big, big grin. Switches a tooth pick from one side of his mouth to the other, languid and slow.

“All good, Baby?”

Xavier swallows the lump in his throat, pulls the strap of the rifle from his shoulder.

“All good.”

—

So how long have they been fucking?

That’s what’s on Xavier’s mind as he stomps his way through the base. Soldiers move to the side, seem to sense the storm rolling off him and don’t attempt to interject. How long? Can he figure that out through a few words, is he smart enough for that? Is anyone?

And does it burn because he and Benji haven’t…aren’t…well, the word doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t like the sound of that put together with his name and Benji’s, doesn’t like the way it feels on his tongue, between his teeth. They wouldn’t really—well, if it was him with Benji, it wouldn’t be just…It would be different, is all. Would be—

Well, it fucking wouldn’t be anything like he’s imagining Ghost and Benji are doing. Not that he’s letting his mind run wild; only he is. ‘Cause this Ghost fucker, this big, British, annoying, ugly—he doesn’t know what Ghost looks like, actually. No one does. Maybe that’s part of the appeal. Xavier scrubs a hand over his mouth, feels his palm dragging across a few days old stubble.

Maybe he’s handsome? Maybe he’s a good looking guy and Benji’s into that. Maybe he’s blond and Benji likes blonds. Xavier pauses in the hallway, hands flexing down by his side. He glances behind him, over his shoulder, looks at the long, gray hallway on this Shadow base. The lights at the end have flickered off, no one there to stomp them awake, no humans to make them blink on.

Xavier takes a turn down a hallway he used to find himself down far too often.

—

Sergeant Tillman opens the door to his office with his face already set in an absolute are you out of your fucking mind expression. He’s got that good ol’ boy demeanor that mirrors the Commander in a lot of ways (which is sometimes half of Tillmans appeal), except Tillman has black hair and severely blue eyes. They’re pale to the point of almost being white and the pupil has always looked a little too small for Xavier. They sit strangely in his tanned face.

“Corporal Wolffe,” Tillman says, drawing out the name in his husky Kentucky accent, slowly leaning his bulk against the door frame. “You need somethin’?”

Xavier, who knows the way of things, tilts his head a little and smiles.

—

They find a nap room, which is meant for sleeping between missions, and do anything but sleep in it.

Now, Xavier’s half on the messed up bed, his camo pants almost fully up, still unbuttoned. He’s braced on one elbow, the other toying with Tillman’s automatic knife. Switches it open, slides it close, switches it open, slides it close. There’s a purpling hickey on his chest, a red bite mark on his hipbone and his muscles feel sore and stretched and limber and his body feels warm and liquid and inexplicably, a little disgusting. He flicks the knife again, listens to its threateningly sharp click.

Maybe it would be considered intimate, by anyone else’s standard. The way Tillman has Xavier’s boot up in his lap. He’s lacing it up, in perfect regulation and to him, it feels less intimate and more militant. A good Sergeant making sure his little soldier has his boots on correct. Tillman shoves the foot off his lap, leans down and hefts the other up to begin lacing that one too.

Xavier clicks the knife’s button, watches the blade switch out.

“You like it?” Tillman asks, not glancing up from his work.

“S’cool.”

“Can have it.”

“Oh,” Xavier purrs out the word, lets his elbow slide out and falls completely back onto the bed instead. “A gift from my boyfriend? That is so sweet, I might just cry.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that, Baby.”

He wants to snap back, don’t fucking call me Baby, but he doesn’t. Stews on it instead, stares at the knife more. Presses the sharp edge to his thumbnail, watches it dig a little sliver out. Almost, he gets close to the meat of his thumb before he slides the knife closed.

“You ever feel bad fuckin’ outside your rank?” Xavier asks. He’s not watching, but he can feel his foot moving as Tillman continues lacing. He can hear the man’s soft snort. “Bit of a power imbalance, right?”

“You anglin’ for a fight?”

And it’s a valid question. Because if Xavier hadn’t found Tillman, he would have found someone else and instead of finding a nap room and screwing for forty minutes, he would have started a fight. They feel similar in his brain; letting Tillman pin him down, prone, face to a pillow does not feel dissimilar to Xavier’s knuckles skating off someone’s jawline and feeling a knee to the gut. It’s all—well, it’s just all fucking in different fonts, is all.

“Just feels wrong, Sergeant.”

“You came to me, kid.”

Sure, now. But when he’d been twenty-three (cresting to twenty-four, his mind whispers, as if that makes the ten year age difference any better at all), Sergeant Tillman had not made it subtle. He’d been real green back then, a year out of the military, a year into mercenary lifestyle and he’d liked Tillman.

Too much. Had broke his stupid heart when the Sergeant had told him, well, you’re not the only one, you know, kid? And well, Xavier had tried to repair all the weird edges of his newly broken heart with his own, not the only one’s.

Tillman’s weight joins him on the bed, sinking in on his left side. The bigger man hovers over him, snakes a hand over Xavier’s bare chest and over his neck. He tilts Xavier’s face back and forth, as if examining him.

“You know ain’t a person in the world that could say no to this face.”

If it’s meant to be a compliment, it only makes Xavier want to flick open the knife and slide it into Tillman’s jugular. Instead, he lets himself be kissed, which feels gross. The sergeant is supposed to fuck off after this weird little boot ritual of his. Xavier doesn’t think about how, if this were three years earlier, he’d be desperate for this kiss. He’d be begging for it.

When the door clicks close behind Tillman, Xavier looks at the knife again. He throws it, hard and listens to it pathetically thump against the wall. And still, despite everything, he’s thinking about Ghost and Benji fucking.

#xavier #benji #xavier x benji

[rolotouto]

Tan Tan Tanuki

The Queen and Knight anthologies are pretty well known among Geass fans, but there’s more comic anthologies that are also “official” (not drawn by the official staff, but which have the Sunrise/Project Geass copyright and were sold in places that don’t sell doujinshi). For the R2 series there’s Comic Anthology Zero, which at least had scans floating around back when the Code Geass livejournal community was a thing, and then also the Noir-Blanc-Rouge-Azure-Irise set of books, whose existence I’ve barely ever seen acknowledged, even among Japanese fans. Nonetheless, these types of not-canon-but-still-officially-approved stories have always been the kind of content that makes me the happiest, so I want to help make them a little bit more well-known! As mentioned, there’s 5 books, with lots of Rolo overall, so it’s hard to choose just one story to translate, but for now I’ve (poorly) scanned one found in Azure:

Rolo: Brother, there’s something I didn’t understand during the lesson we just had. Can you teach me? Notebook title: Mathemathics Lelouch (not seen): What is it? Rolo (not seen): It’s this part here... Lelouch (thinking): Suzaku, I see. (comment outside the text bubble) Here you apply this and... Rolo (comment outside the text bubble): Ah, right. Lelouch: You are a fast learner, Rolo. As expected from my little brother.  Rolo: Brother. Comment about Lelouch’s words: Praises himself while pretending to praise Rolo Lelouch (thinking): How’s that, Suzaku? No matter how you look at it, we’re just normal brothers who get along! 

Lelouch (thinking): There’s nothing to be suspicious of! Lelouch: Oh Suzaku, you were there? What is it? You are just standing around. Suzaku: Eh? Yeah... (next panel, not seen) Could I borrow Rolo for a moment? Lelouch (not seen): Rolo? (next panel) That’s fine, but don’t forget to return him, okay? He’s my precious little brother. (TN: Sand comes out of his mouth, which is based on the expression “so sweet you vomit sand,” originating from “so sweet you vomit sugar.” Meaning he finds his own words too cheesy)  Rolo: Brother. Suzaku: I know. I’ll return him right away. Rolo (formal speech): So. Is there anything you want? Suzaku: ...

Suzaku: No... Well...  (outside text bubble) How should I express it... Um... You look genuinely happy when you are with Lelouch. Are you betraying us or something? Comment pointing at Suzaku: Guy with no skills to elicit information indirectly Rolo/Lelouch (thinking): Completely direct!! Suzaku: Your behavior doesn’t seem like acting, so... Lelouch (thinking): Darn it! To think it’d be suspicious from that angle...! (outside the text bubble) Now that I won him over it backfires on me Rolo (formal speech): And here I was wondering what you were going to say... Him and I are brothers who are close, are we not? So does that not mean that it is only natural for me to be happy around Brother? In order not to trigger his memories coming back, it is better that I act in a way that does not feel strange, is that correct? Suzaku: Ah, yeah, um... Rolo (formal speech): So about my acting skills that are so good they do not even seem like acting, if anything I would think that you should praise them.  Lelouch (thinking): Good one, Rolo!

Rolo: In other words, the more natural it looks, the better I am carrying out the mission. Suzaku: I-I see. Sorry for doubting you. Lelouch (thinking): Good thing the guy's perceptive at the oddest times but slow when it comes to what’s important... Rolo: Speaking of which, I would like to make it look even more like real brothers. What kind of things do brothers usually do? Lelouch (thinking): Hm? Suzaku: Eh? Mm, well... Being together all the time, for example? Rolo: We already do that. Suzaku: Getting help with studies and such? Rolo: I said we already do that. You saw it just a moment ago. (next panel, not seen) Is there nothing else? Suzaku (not seen): Something else, um... Ah! (next panel) For example, wearing matching outfits, taking a bath together, or sleeping together? Rolo (outside text bubble): Oh, so they do that Suzaku (outside text bubble): Sounds like getting along, doesn’t it? Lelouch: Wait a moment! What kind of brothers are those!! (outside text bubble) Like I’d do that! (next panel) I came here worried since you were taking so long to return. Would you not indoctrinate my dear little brother with wrong ideas of what brothers are like? (outside text bubble) What if he now wants to do those things!

Suzaku: Well... then what kind of things do *real brothers* do? Lelouch (thinking): Tch...! How could Suzaku come up with such a good comeback... Even though I have a little sister, I have no idea about little brothers! What’s the natural thing to do? Paper folding...? Two men doing that would be too dull! Reading him a book? ... But it’s not like he’s a child. What do brothers do? Something natural for brothers to do... That’s it! (next panel) Playing catch? Suzaku: Eh. You? Comment in square textbox: Unnaturalness that predates the whole brothers thing Lelouch: I... I can do it too! Something like playing catch! Suzaku: Really...? Comment pointing at Suzaku: Suspicious look in more ways than one Lelouch: Let’s go, Rolo. Rolo: Y... Yeah.

Suzaku (no text bubble): Yeah. As expected. Lelouch: Haha... I overdid it trying to show off since Suzaku is looking. It’s actually like this. Kanji above the arrow: Short distance Rolo (outside text bubble): Playing catch with Brother... ♥ Suzaku: This is clearly unnatural, right? Lelouch: What are you talking about. We always play catch like this, right Rolo? Rolo: Yeah, Brother Suzaku: That’s what you say, but you actually haven’t played catch before, have you? Do you understand, Lelouch? To play catch... 

Suzaku: Your distance has to be at the very least this much. Comment next to Suzaku: Completely serious  Lelouch: Hey wait, you moving lack of common sense! (TN: I’m not 100% sure if that’s the right translation but it should at least be pretty similar) (next panel) Who plays catch like that? If you are trying to practice throwing a ball to home... Suzaku: Why didn’t you catch it? Lelouch. Lelouch: As if I could!! And don’t come back from such a distance in an instant without even gasping for breath!! Villetta: Which one is more unnatural you ask...?

Villetta: I wouldn’t call any of that “playing catch,” but... Suzaku (outside text bubble): Eh?! Lelouch (outside text bubble): Just realize it already that when it comes to physical strength what’s common sense to you is insane to others Villetta: But in so far as you can at least catch the ball in Lelouch’s version, that one is the least bad, don’t you think? (outside text bubble) Honestly, not that there is much difference between the two Lelouch: Thank you, *teacher*. Villetta: Don’t mention it, instead go fix the mess you created. The three of you. Lelouch: Eh? No, that was Suzaku's- Villetta: It’s collective responsibility, you idiot. Rolo: Brother! I bought matching ones. Will you wear it? Lelouch (outside text bubble): I knew it...  (next panel, outside text bubble): That’s wrong! You’re mistaken, Rolo!! Rolo (outside text bubble) : Brother, you don’t like it? Suzaku (outside text bubble) : You’ll wear it, right, Lelouch? Since you are *brothers* Villetta (thinking): In this battle of foxes trying to outfox each other, the biggest winner is probably Rolo... END

#code geass r2 #comic anthology azure #lelouch lamperouge #suzaku kururugi #rolo lamperouge #villetta nu #translation #comic #official doujinshi

[cangrellesteponme]

13, 14, and 19 for the writing asks!

What feedback did you receive for your writing that stuck with you?

This is going to sound very stupid, but what haunts me is the importance of making your work readable.

How well or shittily you write doesn't matter if your work is an ugly wall of text that no one will read. I was taught about that in detail when I was around 11 (harsh teachers...), and then I was told how to do it a bit better when I was 13. As you know, I'm 20, so... yeah never forgetting that.

But yeah, learn from me (and my French teachers) and fix your format. Prescriptivism is inherently wrong and all but if you want to listen, or at least know the rules before you break them, it's easy.

A new idea is a new paragraph. Dialogue is a new paragraph. Use the right quotation marks for your language. Use the right dialogue format too. Free Indirect Speech or Thought is a new paragraph unless it actually fits into the idea you're developing (and italicise that shit, for the love of god, unless you're intentionally making it unclear). Use your tenses correctly (English literally has two. Just pick one and stick to it, or if you want to switch it up, do so only if it actually adds to your storytelling).

This is like, some basic Writing Format 101, and I have a lot more things to say (especially as someone who has corrected, proofread, and reviewed a fuckton of writing from their peers) but that would take hours.

What is something that you feel weird/uncomfortable writing about?

Plenty of things, actually.

We all know that I only write sex scenes if I'm paid to do it, so there's that. I may fit the "all aces write good smut" cliché but I am not willing, okay.

But also writing very emotional characters is out of my comfort zone. For Open The Door, I wrote from Virgil's (the literal embodiment of anxiety) POV and through the whole thing I was like "what does severe anxiety even feel like... i think i'm actually writing sensory overload there let me fix that... oh no that's PTSD... eh, that works" because I'm simply not a very anxious person. And I struggle with big emotions in general for the same reason - I'm just a very repressed rational bitch.

I also have a hard time writing empathy, comfort, and all those complex... social things. I'm not talking in terms of skill, or ability - I mean that I'm honestly just not having a great time with those things because it takes so much effort (but I balance it out with more fun stuff! like heartbreaking angst <3).

Show us the line you want readers to remember from your story.

I'll answer this for Staring Contest, obviously.

It has to be one of those two:

"Baldroy does not like many things about many people, but today he decides that he particularly hates the way Sebastian Michaelis looks at their young master."

"There’s something fragile and worn, a breath away from breaking, bubbling under the surface but ready to cool down in a second."

Obviously, Staring Contest has no dialogue (except one line from Ciel, because I simply couldn't be bothered to change it) and a very honest focaliser, which kind of restricted my ability to hide the truth in a bunch of lies so I had to work a lot with omissions.

With the first line, I think what I'm implying is obvious (even the second, more disturbing layer of it also is. i mean we've all read the manga. canon seb is a creep), and I want the reader to keep that in mind, for reasons similar to the second line. For the second one, I wanted it to be a sweet, memorable line with just a hint of carefully sprinkled pain.

For both of those, what you should remember is that appearances or suddenly developed feelings of paternal affection don't matter - this is still a dangerous demon whose sole intent is to get that dinner. The affection is fragile not only because it's new, but also because it can and will be crushed if needed. Both of those line highlight, in different ways, how fucked up this all is. But yeah it's all hidden in the fluffy dadbastian vibes.

#i always write long ass answers i'm so sorry lmao #takes me ages to get to the damn point #but yeah i hope those answers are satisfying :) #ota's ask answers

[unknownjpegs]

xavier knows

It’s eating cereal that Xavier realizes it. One particularly wet, sloshing scoop of off brand whatever the fuck sugary shit he’s got in his bowl, spoon half in his mouth and eyes distant across the mess hall—it snaps up into his brain like someone put it there, like someone took the thought and none too gently shoved it into his ear; because he certainly never wanted to arrive there on his own.

Benji and Ghost are fucking.

When it does blossom up into a full thought, Xavier drops the spoon and stands up from the table.

“Y’alright, Corporal?” Whoever is speaking sounds distantly far off, but is actually right next to him. Xavier’s giant hand lands on top of the soldier’s head, feels the rough scruff of shorn down hair. Hears their affectionate laugh, feels a gentle swat from their hand to his own wrist.

His brain brings up the image of Benji, wild haired and laughing, Xavier’s hands on his sides, dragging blunt fingernails over soft skin. Nose to nose, both of them a toothy grin. Xavier brushing back that wild hair, tangling fingers into it, their lips about to touch. The warm sensation of his breath against his skin.

Ghost fucking him. Fucking him.

“Alright,” is his reply. “Throw that away for me,” Xavier says, pointing to his half eaten sorry excuse for a breakfast.

“Sure, man.”

It’s autopilot from there to the range.

—

They’re absolutely fucking.

Xavier slaps a magazine into the gun, shoulders it, looks at the little silhouette of a person that serves as a target. Someone’s drawn a speech bubble on it that says yep, yep! which would be ridiculously funny to Xavier if the feeling of nausea wasn’t slowly crawling up his throat. The bullet holes punch through what he wishes was a real skull. The impact would have felt more…satisfying. Instead, he stares at those little black holes, adjusts his grip on the rifle, breathes out slowly.

Doesn’t do enough to stop him from thinking about how absolutely positive he is that Ghost and Benji are fucking.

It had been too casual, the way the two were talking, back in that derelict building. Tossing their sentences back and forth, little clever remarks, little quips—and Xavier’s brain hyper focused on that event. Primarily, the part with the boot on his crotch, but also the part where Benji had given him a scalpel and shown him how to kill people quick; and that had lingered with him far too long, the feel of the mans palm on his hand, the way he moved to the sensitive, soft targets. How badly, in that moment, Xavier wanted to kiss him. But now it was all…

“Shoppin’, then.”

“Pick somethin’ out in my size and color, hey?”

Now, though? He wishes he could relive those moments. Wishes, as he shoots the target again, draws a line across it’s neck to sever the plywood head, he could think about anything other than how obvious it was that these two men were definitely fucking.

“Look, mate, if Ghost — if he spots you?”

Oh, that burned. Licked a forked and deviled tongue up Xavier’s chest, like a razor blade. Cut him open because, he wasn’t Lieutenant Simon Riley to Benji. Was Ghost, eh? Stupid fucking callsign. Xavier punched the trigger a few more times, quick spurts of the assault rifle tearing down the target to shreds. Big bastard. So much bigger than Benji.

“—I’m buyin’ you time, dickhead.”

“Yeah, I bet you fucking are,” Xavier seethes, emptying the last of the magazine. He snatches the soundproofing earmuffs from his head. He’s pouring sweat for some reason, but can’t exactly parse through why. He’d been at the range for under an hour, hadn’t moved from this spot, had only used this one rifle. Xavier’s hand wipes sweat back through his hair as he looks over at the range jockey.

The man’s seated on a metal folding chair, giving him a big, big grin. Switches a tooth pick from one side of his mouth to the other, languid and slow.

“All good, Baby?”

Xavier swallows the lump in his throat, pulls the strap of the rifle from his shoulder.

“All good.”

—

So how long have they been fucking?

That’s what’s on Xavier’s mind as he stomps his way through the base. Soldiers move to the side, seem to sense the storm rolling off him and don’t attempt to interject. How long? Can he figure that out through a few words, is he smart enough for that? Is anyone?

And does it burn because he and Benji haven’t…aren’t…well, the word doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t like the sound of that put together with his name and Benji’s, doesn’t like the way it feels on his tongue, between his teeth. They wouldn’t really—well, if it was him with Benji, it wouldn’t be just…It would be different, is all. Would be—

Well, it fucking wouldn’t be anything like he’s imagining Ghost and Benji are doing. Not that he’s letting his mind run wild; only he is. ‘Cause this Ghost fucker, this big, British, annoying, ugly—he doesn’t know what Ghost looks like, actually. No one does. Maybe that’s part of the appeal. Xavier scrubs a hand over his mouth, feels his palm dragging across a few days old stubble.

Maybe he’s handsome? Maybe he’s a good looking guy and Benji’s into that. Maybe he’s blond and Benji likes blonds. Xavier pauses in the hallway, hands flexing down by his side. He glances behind him, over his shoulder, looks at the long, gray hallway on this Shadow base. The lights at the end have flickered off, no one there to stomp them awake, no humans to make them blink on.

Xavier takes a turn down a hallway he used to find himself down far too often.

—

Sergeant Tillman opens the door to his office with his face already set in an absolute are you out of your fucking mind expression. He’s got that good ol’ boy demeanor that mirrors the Commander in a lot of ways (which is sometimes half of Tillmans appeal), except Tillman has black hair and severely blue eyes. They’re pale to the point of almost being white and the pupil has always looked a little too small for Xavier. They sit strangely in his tanned face.

“Corporal Wolffe,” Tillman says, drawing out the name in his husky Kentucky accent, slowly leaning his bulk against the door frame. “You need somethin’?”

Xavier, who knows the way of things, tilts his head a little and smiles.

—

They find a nap room, which is meant for sleeping between missions, and do anything but sleep in it.

Now, Xavier’s half on the messed up bed, his camo pants almost fully up, still unbuttoned. He’s braced on one elbow, the other toying with Tillman’s automatic knife. Switches it open, slides it close, switches it open, slides it close. There’s a purpling hickey on his chest, a red bite mark on his hipbone and his muscles feel sore and stretched and limber and his body feels warm and liquid and inexplicably, a little disgusting. He flicks the knife again, listens to its threateningly sharp click.

Maybe it would be considered intimate, by anyone else’s standard. The way Tillman has Xavier’s boot up in his lap. He’s lacing it up, in perfect regulation and to him, it feels less intimate and more militant. A good Sergeant making sure his little soldier has his boots on correct. Tillman shoves the foot off his lap, leans down and hefts the other up to begin lacing that one too.

Xavier clicks the knife’s button, watches the blade switch out.

“You like it?” Tillman asks, not glancing up from his work.

“S’cool.”

“Can have it.”

“Oh,” Xavier purrs out the word, lets his elbow slide out and falls completely back onto the bed instead. “A gift from my boyfriend? That is so sweet, I might just cry.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that, Baby.”

He wants to snap back, don’t fucking call me Baby, but he doesn’t. Stews on it instead, stares at the knife more. Presses the sharp edge to his thumbnail, watches it dig a little sliver out. Almost, he gets close to the meat of his thumb before he slides the knife closed.

“You ever feel bad fuckin’ outside your rank?” Xavier asks. He’s not watching, but he can feel his foot moving as Tillman continues lacing. He can hear the man’s soft snort. “Bit of a power imbalance, right?”

“You anglin’ for a fight?”

And it’s a valid question. Because if Xavier hadn’t found Tillman, he would have found someone else and instead of finding a nap room and screwing for forty minutes, he would have started a fight. They feel similar in his brain; letting Tillman pin him down, prone, face to a pillow does not feel dissimilar to Xavier’s knuckles skating off someone’s jawline and feeling a knee to the gut. It’s all—well, it’s just all fucking in different fonts, is all.

“Just feels wrong, Sergeant.”

“You came to me, kid.”

Sure, now. But when he’d been twenty-three (cresting to twenty-four, his mind whispers, as if that makes the ten year age difference any better at all), Sergeant Tillman had not made it subtle. He’d been real green back then, a year out of the military, a year into mercenary lifestyle and he’d liked Tillman.

Too much. Had broke his stupid heart when the Sergeant had told him, well, you’re not the only one, you know, kid? And well, Xavier had tried to repair all the weird edges of his newly broken heart with his own, not the only one’s.

Tillman’s weight joins him on the bed, sinking in on his left side. The bigger man hovers over him, snakes a hand over Xavier’s bare chest and over his neck. He tilts Xavier’s face back and forth, as if examining him.

“You know ain’t a person in the world that could say no to this face.”

If it’s meant to be a compliment, it only makes Xavier want to flick open the knife and slide it into Tillman’s jugular. Instead, he lets himself be kissed, which feels gross. The sergeant is supposed to fuck off after this weird little boot ritual of his. Xavier doesn’t think about how, if this were three years earlier, he’d be desperate for this kiss. He’d be begging for it.

When the door clicks close behind Tillman, Xavier looks at the knife again. He throws it, hard and listens to it pathetically thump against the wall. And still, despite everything, he’s thinking about Ghost and Benji fucking.

#writing #core au #2023 #hj #xw #bp #bp x xw

[realmjit]

Ok barbie let's go party

I had a Barbie doll when I was 8. It was a tanning Barbie, that got slightly darker on the shoulders is sunlight and you could move her shoulder strap and see the tan line. One day, she just sort of disappeared out of my hand. I set her down somewhere while I was hanging out at the neighbors' house and never saw her again. I'm pretty sure they, being boys, had a high old time playing out their serial killer fantasies, finishing off with a good laugh as they threw the parts in the trash. One of them is Deputy Director of the state prison system, now.

I never got another Barbie after that. I never had the car, the house, or anything like that. I couldn't even convince my parents to get me her horse. Just the clothes. lots of generic clothes. I lost interest in Barbie soon after, because it was something girls liked, and I didn't want to be pigeonholed. I did a lot of that -- disliking things because I was a unique individual and not A Girl. I still don't like pink, but I do enjoy cooking and baking. Never changed my mind about not having children.

My longheld disdain of all things Barbie has centered around the pink bottomless money pit of collecting all the pink accessories. Much of it, I think, is sour grapes at never having my brief foray in Barbie fandom indulged and my annoyance at the color pink. I also had zero faith in a movie based on a girl's toy.

So I went to the Barbie movie, because it was being touted as this big feminist manifesto. Barbie's purpose in the universe is to be anything she wants to be, because girls can grow up to be anything they want to be. I walked out wishing I had waited for it to come to streaming. There were some great lines about the reality of a woman's existence in the US and its cultural shadow -- the difficulty in being strong enough to stand against anything without looking unbreakable, the entire list of attributes a woman is supposed to carry without looking under- or over-burdened, and the damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don't list of choices a woman is expected to make -- the big speech that happens in every piece of drama about feminism. Lots of cute moments lead up to this.

Did I like the movie? Eh. It was a better written, better acted Lifetime-Hallmark cry-umph. Romantic entanglements were minimal. I don't hate Barbie as much as I used to. I kinda want a Weird Barbie workshop where I get to chop off her hair and redo her makeup.

Random fact: Valentina Tereshkova was the first woman in space in 1963; Barbie got her bubble helmet in 1965.

#barbie movie

[lostinchowkit]

What turned out as expected?

My current job.

I remember walking with a friend from junior high school about what I wanted to do in the future. Many professions crossed my mind upon trying to answer her questions. Ranging from being a psychologist to a criminologist. Mind you I was so obsessed with Sherlock Holmes back then. But eventually, I told her I wanted to do something relating to human rights. Honestly, I couldn't recall what led me to include human right activist as an option there. I think it was because I was reading a collection of speeches from influential people who fought for the sovereignty of society. Thus, sparking the 'calling' to partake in humanitarian work.

Frankly, that once-blooming desire didn't last long. It was then overcome by the ambition to become a criminologist. Although, the chance of me ever having a future ever back then was slim to none. I was in complete shamble. I only showed up to school so they didn't mark me absent and flunk me. I was too absorbed in my emotions. It felt like tons of unpleasant memories coalesced into one giant ball and hit me right in the head. I went on with life relying on the tiny will to keep afloat. I was running in circles with zero idea where I'm heading - or even the knowledge of will ever make it at all. Lord, even I would have numerous mental breakdowns that I had to go home and several hospitalizations as well from stress-induced severe asthma attacks.

This continued into senior high school. I was basically a hopeless case. I would skip school on a daily basis. Even my friends were hesitant to work in the same group as me because they weren't sure I'd show up the following day. Things were looking slightly better upon entering 11th grade. I actually made effort to never skip school even though I could barely process most of the materials the teachers were teaching us. What mattered back then, I tried. I think I even surpassed the minimum of my target. I joined a debate club and became the president of the club. Though I was sure I did a poor job at it.

Twelfth grade was probably the moment when I thought "Eh, this is okay. I'll make it."

During this period, I was so grateful that I didn't have a hard time fitting in and connecting with people. I think it was because I've grown comfortable in my own skin and being alone in general.  I was no longer part of the club because I had to focus on the final exams. But I was appointed to lead our class' final art project.  I still wonder how they could trust me regardless of my poor track record. And with my academic performance, I still never made it to the top ten. But long story short, I graduated.

Sadly, this bubble was kind of shattered when my parents nearly got a divorce. But they didn't and I had to bounce back.

Then came my university years. Those were a complete blast. A moment of true self-growth and self-discovery. I studied Journalism and though it was TIRING AS HELL, I had fun doing all the coverages. I too made so many friends along the way - a few I'm still in contact with. I tried to put myself out there as much as I could. Joined an organization, saw a psychologist, won a competition, went abroad for the first time for free from winning the competition, did an internship, and finished my study with distinction.

Post-graduating, I decided I didn't want to be a journalist anymore. I put that as my last resort if none of my job applications went through. Luckily, after grueling months of job seeking, the universe decided to land me a job at a local NGO. That led me to recall the conversation with a now-distant friend about the future - and the question about whether we'll make it at all.

Now, I'm working at a different NGO. I get to work with many activists fighting for a just society. Thus, indirectly pulling me into their circle, where I can firsthand experience what was my ambition years ago.

 I am still unsure about the possibility of seeing the future as somehow, I no longer feel elated to welcome it. I don't know, perhaps it's because I'm now on meds that kind of nullify my emotions.

The point is, I may never see the ultimate silver lining of it all unless I'm dead. Because the only ultimate silver lining is death. All the silver linings I have experienced and will experience belong to moments. As long as I get to live the many moments to come, then I get to witness and reach the silver linings that promise me better days.

Anyway, sorry for turning it into everything BUT about my job. All in all, hang in there, bubs.

[souleaterpostanime]

SE-POST Reread part 1/4

Guess it's time for another update - still recovering and readjusting so nothing substantiual, but I decided it would be fun and usefull to reread my own stuff for the future so I don't just forget all the things I set-up and to see where I messed up the most and what I can improve. I leave small notes after reading a chapter and record them, maybe they will just be repetive and the same as the chapter notes, maybe not, but to make up for it, I'll include little rushed no-effort sketches with each one. Also you can catch up or remind yourself if you want to be ready for when this story finally continues.

If this still isn't satisfieng for everybody waiting for the hiatus to be finally over - yeah...sorry.

So anyways, here we go:

chapter 1:

not as bad as I remembered, even the dialog (besides the obvious countless typos, word repetition, sometimes unclear baloon order) wasn't too bad, I remembered it to be so emberassing that I wouldn't be able to reread it, but it actually even causes me a slight chuckle a few times and didn't sound much worse than some stuff (maybe cause I started watching the third season of mob psycho, a series I used to hold in high regard, and realised that it's dialog and exposition isn't as good as I remembered). But it could also just be to the anesthetics in my system still affecting my perception (Probably shouldnt after all this time, especially when I didn't take pain killers once they became voluntary)

Guess my most controversial opinion, which will make people think I truly lost it and became narcisistic and delusional, is that the art doesn't suck - no I mean it does suck, but in a way that often actually conveys things more clearly than probably some later chapters, and has a certain charm to it, even though I admit some panels are really rough Still dunno, maybe I can just pretend that it had more "soul" than even I realised. Alas.

chapter 2:

Weird, that even though I figured out how the speech bubble tool worked, this chapter actually had more instances were the layout of them was confusing and it wasn't clear which bubble to read first, probably ruining some jokes. Also I allways felt a bit that the woman that was the victim had a too quick of a turn of opinion, just to get her out of the scene, just showed my sloppy writting and use of convenienve, hope it wasn't too jaring anyways.

Still, I personally liked the whole intro scene, even if it may be simmilar to many cliche "saving someone from a monster in the last moment" depictions. Didn't use any reference for the flow of it and I think it worked, but as I mentioned, maybe it's just my megalomania speaking.

But another flaw I admit is the 3 time repeated "oh how was the mission? Great!, besides- anyways..." talk. Even though it happens in real life (as I experienced recently when 3 different old ladys asked me why I wasnt at a rehabilitation exercise when I felt bad) , it still feels clunky, unecessary and "fillery" in a story, maybe if I had done something with it like conveing something a bit different or showing some subtle change.. But eh, can't cry over spilled milk. Also I thought the lame reference/meta humor would make me wince from regrett but nah that shit still works, and if you "cringed" you just don't get the vision

(Also funny that Kurma and Zalte appearedncoe the first time, can't say I didn't build up the arc, even if it took a bit longer than expected, also did anybody catch the first hint of Ragnarok being "nice" to Tsubaki, wishing her goodbye and even Crona being comfused by such behaviour from him?)

chapter 3: Think the confusing speech bubble problem persists but is a bit less common. Some panels at the end were a bit unclear, especially at the end but others thing did the job. Still some typos and dialog sure sounds clumsy, should have chosen some other words. Also in the talk between Kid and Death, guess some "jokes", could be cut out to make it flow better. But on the other hand I quite liked the conversation between Ragnarok and Tsubaki, wasn't too schmalzy, atleast in my opinion. Still this chapter set up a few things even that early, even though no real "antagonist" appeared in it, guess I just have a preference for these silly slice of life chapters.

chapter 4: yeah think this one has just mostly bad art without any of the previously mentioned charm or "pizzaz", even though some panels were still quite dynamic in a good way. Still having Crona and Patty interact was probably a good idea, and something I should explore more in the future. Sadly this one still hasn't solved the problem of some text bubbles having a confusing reading order, ruining some jokes and emotional moments. Also it's were you can see the overstuffed unecesarry jokes and dialogs rear their ugly head. Also the scene trasitions were probably confusing, even if maybe I did it on purpose? Anyways interesting to see an early Zalte and Kurma, maybe one could arguee that Zalte's charachter was different at that moment but I guess I could try to pretend that I just didn't want to reveal to much. Still weird that in some ways on reread I didn't like the chapter but in others I enjoyed it quite a lot, but guess it is what it is

chapter 5 Weirdly I found this one a lot better than the previous one in a lot of aspects. Even if it just seems to be a few scenes jumping around without a larger important plot, the art seemed a lot more lively and even actually "readable". Even some jokes and scenes seemed to land better. Guess the cover is the worst part, cause the church building looks kinda lame, but in contrast the silent scene of the wedding itself seemed quite nice, atleast to my self-loving eyes. Also intersting that this is the first time when Medusas remnant snake showed up. Anyways, maybe I should write more on it, but I think it speaks for itself, ofcourse it still has some problems with the text bubbles being confusing and dialog containg typos or just confusing sentence structure and word choice (Im not even sure if "joker" can be used in the context, basically I ment "lifeline", like in a quiz show, guess things like that get mixed up when you speak 3 languages and are trying to learn more)

chapter6: even if the art takes a dive again, I enjoyed the content of it still, was suprised by how well I could switch from the c*** mother to caring mum without making it look to cartoonish. But yeah I admit the action was too confusing to read and even I can't even decipher a few panels of it Anyways this one shows what happens if.you dont make enough concept art and do new charachters mostly of the dome. Guess for the first two parter it set ups things well enough, but hard to say without a second opinion, maybe most people find it all weird. Still maybe I have more to say after rereading the second part

chapter 7: Just noticed that I was very sparing with the sound effects at first, maybe I thought it was bwtter to make them clear by context? Still liked the chapter, because it seemed a lot happened in it without it being too rushed and even the art, even if super basic and scratchy, still conveid the action mostly, with some exceptions. Atleast better than the previous one. Still think using Humpty Dumpty as a kishinegg was a creative choice, I mean why not, atleast its not as exploitative as using real life recent serial killers, which I did and probably will continue to do, even if I probably shouldnt... Anyways, I have less to say than I though, just felt engadge myself when reading it, so atleast one person is satisfied by it so thats good enough. Oh also, think the speech bubble order problem is mostly solved by this point.

chapter 8: Well, I still wonder if anybody quit just because of what kind of person the kishinegg was, that its a too serious topic to use for a stupid fancomic of a cartoon. But besides the question of tastefulness, I liked the whole intro of the chapter even after rereading it. The paralels with Crona and him trying to help the kid seemed not forced or anything, atleast to me. The only question I started to have while rereading was, if Maka was out of charachter or atleast if her charachter development got ignored. Wouldn't she too have seen a pathetic scared kid, who she would have tried to help after her experience with Crona? I guess I would justifie it that for one, the kid directly killed other student, which is such a terrible act that Maka wouldn't even think about any other "victims" besides the ones slayin. Also she did try to just kill Crona at their first confrontation and at the second only changed her mind once she saw the inside of his soul and realised Cronas situation. But here comes the question - should that have led her to reconsider other people before attacking like she did with Crona or do habbits like that not change so easily, especially if Crona was really "special" atleast in her eyes. Guess the fact that this kid seemed to be more mentally gone than even Crona at his worst could contribute, but at the end I have to admit that it would just be boring if Maka came to the same conclusions as Crona, and there wasn't a conflict or motor for Crona to develop his thought on his own. Anyways maybe I'm just overthinking a minor part of this comic, who knows But on the more technical side, I think even if some of the art looks better than the last chapter, the clarity got a lot worse, maybe it was just too dificult setting for my effort and skills at the time. The ocean especially looked like shit, and I hopefully would have done a much better job at this point. Still I liked the fight itself just for the stupid eye stabing gag and for showing how just arbitrary forgivness won't solve every problem. Anyways, at the end the chapter mostly set up things for the future while having a action set piece - so if it ever gets redrawn it wouldnt just be boring text like some other chapters comming up.

chapter 9: Yeah it looks even more obvious that I rushed this one out in a single day, the "quality" makes it obvious. Still I found a lot of it fun and the whole boardgame parody something lo-fi that gets uses rarely. But that also makes me see how it would all benefit from a redraw or something, even the dialog seems to have a lot more typos and repeating phrases than the last few, even with the edits I did when I reuploaded it on AO3. Anyways, in a story progression sense this "filler" chapter actually planted a lot of seeds, some that only started paying of recently, like Crona acting simmilar to his mother, so I hope it got apreciated for that

#soul eater #soul eater post #update #reread #sketch

[anime-dub-transcripts]

Hetalia: The World Twinkle Episode #16: Germany and Cohabitation Transcript

This episode has Australia stealing Italy's tank, Austria trying to sweep, Hungary hating Prussia, Italian military exemptions, and Italy and Austria hanging out.

Italy: Wowie! Germany, isn’t it cool how Australia’s tank looks exactly like mine looks?

Germany: Dummkopf!

(Dummkopf!: Idiot!/Fool! → German)

Germany: It looks like yours because it is yours!

{Caption: If it has kangaroos on it, it’s the Australian military!}

Italy: Oh no! He must be using some down under wizard magic from the freaky outback!

{Caption: Wahhh}

Italy: WAAAAAHHHHHH!

{Caption: Shock}

Germany: When you ran this time, you abandoned it. How do you not remember such things?! Auh, you see the kind of cacki I’m having to put up with here?

German soldier: Ja, but your vacation time starts today, so you’ve got that.

(Ja: Yes → German)

Narrator: The German military allowed vacations during war because losers.

(Italy: Meah! Yay!)

Italy: I didn’t get one!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Germany: Phew! Back home. Finally, I get to relax a bit.

Austria: Oh yay, you’re back, welcome. Do you want a bath? Or dinner perhaps?

{Caption #1: Austria}

{Caption #2: He is currently staying at Germany’s house!}

Austria: If so, have at it. You know where they are.

Germany’s thoughts: Hospitable.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

{Caption #1: Shoe-Break-In Person [Italy]}

{Caption #2: I’ll flatten the shoes!}

{Caption #3: As you can tell from the name, this person breaks in new shoes before the owner wears them. If you call the shoe shop and tell them your shoe size, this person will come right away. They wear the shoes for about an hour by walking, running, jumping, etc. Then, the new, hard shoes are now, boom! They fit your feet well and you don’t have to worry about blisters!}

Italy: Hetalia.

Germany [narrating]: This is Austria, my older brother. My boss said I had to live with him.

Austria: Your face hurts me.

Germany [narrating]: He’s rather delicate. Being the capital of music, unless he is rocking Amadeus, his instruments produce delicate tones.

{Text on paper: Music Score}

Germany: Ahuh!

Germany [narrating]: Although I arrange things for him.

Austria: You want some, don’t you?

Germany [narrating]: He’s talented at making sweets too. They are, of course, delicate in look and flavor, but I always have to do the dishes. It’s okay, though; they are yummy.

{Text on boat #1: Austria}

{Text on boat #2: Italy}

Germany [narrating]: The way he fights ist wunderbar however!

(Ist wunderbar: Is wonderful → German)

{Caption #1: Slam!!}

{Caption #2: Slam!!}

{Caption #3: Ve}

{Caption #4: Old ship}

{Text on boat: Italy}

{Caption #6: Italian Military}

{Caption #7: Austria-Hungary Military}

Germany [narrating]: He rams enemies with his own ships!

(Italy: Auh auh auh auh auh!)

(Austria: Oomph oomph oomph oomph oomph!)

Narrator: Even in late modern times, Mr. Austria enjoyed slamming his shabby ships into his enemies’ soon-to-be shabby ships and still won.

(Italy: Auh auh auh auh auh auh auh auh auh auh auh auh auh!)

(Austria: Oomph oomph oomph oomph oomph eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

{Caption #1: Weight Measurement Shop [India, Austria, Russia, etc.]}

{Caption #2: You pay and get on a scale that’s out on the roadside. The shop owner will even read your results aloud! People around you will know how much you weigh. It is also said that there’s a form of this service where you ride on the shop owner’s back and they tell you how much you weigh. Can such a crude method work as a business?}

{Caption #3: Self-service}

{Text in Germany’s speech bubble: What’s the point of you being here?}

Austria: Hetalia.

Germany: I wonder something. How is it you manage to survive when I am not around?

Austria: What? Don’t be stupid, I do not need you here to survive. I live a perfectly normal life; my room just gets tidied up on its own, that’s all.

{Caption: Good}

Hungary: Good.

Germany: Oh, I get it. You shouldn’t need me or *cough* Hungary *cough*, so train with this weapon. Here, find your inner power.

(Austria: Hmph!)

Austria: How dare you?! I’m perfect!

{Caption: Sweep}

Austria: I can take care of my home just fine, thank you. You are so dumb. Seriously.

Germany: Hm…

{Caption #1: 2 minutes later}

{Caption #2: Wheeze…}

Austria: Cough cough cough!

{Caption: Glance!}

Austria: Or I could if you’d quit looking at me!

Germany: Point made! Don’t push yourself! I’ll take care of it!

{Caption #1: Austria’s economy has been relying on Germany for a long time; however, it seems that they tried hard and were able to reduce their reliance lately. Not only the countries surrounding Germany, but also some countries quite some distance from Germany are also relying on Germany’s economy, so it seems Germany can’t even catch a cold}

{Text in France’s speech bubble: I’m your number one partner, right?!}

Hungary: Hetalia!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hungary: Germany, you don’t maybe have a minute by chance, do you?

{Caption: Hungary}

Narrator: This is Miss Hungary. She may not look it, but she’s an unsung hero who has saved Mr. Austria in the past.

Germany: Hello there, Hungary. I think I saw you earlier. So what brought you here?

Hungary: Oh, nothing in particular. I just kind of wanted to see how Mr. Austria was doing.

Germany: Well, he’s inside, if you’d like to go talk with him for a little while.

{Caption: Untidy}

Hungary: No! As long as he’s doing fine, and my hair is too messy anyway, so---

Germany: Ja, understood.

(Ja: Yes → German)

Hungary: Besides, things between Prussia and me are tense right now and I’d hate to instigate him for no reason when I look at his smirking face with my scary one.

Germany: Understood. Brother ist picking too many fights these days.

(Ist: Is → German)

Narrator: There’s bad blood between Hungary and Prussia because Prussia’s a bourgeois Junker.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

{Caption #1: Dog owners are supposed to spend at least two hours with their adult dog. If they own multiple dogs, since the dogs can interact each other, the owner can reduce their time with the dogs to thirty minutes. People follow the rules even when interacting with their dogs!}

{Caption #2: Listen, listen}

{Caption #3: Just as you’d expect from Germany. But dogs in Germany might be happy, huh?}

Dog: Neeyoh!

Italy: Ciao, future soldiers, it’s time to begin the military service recruitment interview!

(Ciao: Hello → Italian)

{Caption: Ve}

Italy: If you sign up now, you get to shake hands with me!

{Text on file: File}

{Text on podium: Welcome to the Italian Military}

Italian man #1: Forgive me.

Italy: Oh no! You fell and are currently on crutches? This is so sad! I exempt you from military service.

{Caption: Clank}

Italian man #2: I leave my older sister.

Italy: What?! I can’t let you leave her all alone! No!

{Caption: Clank}

Italian man #2: Oh!

Italy: I’ll give you an exemption, so go home to her. Oh no, you were attacked by a hippo in Africa and your ribs got broken?! Forget military service, get thee to a hospital! You are exempted! Next! Next, per favore!

(Per favore!: Please! → Italian)

Italy: Ahuh…ah!

Italian soldier: You gave them an exemption, so everyone went home.

Italy [talking to the audience]: In the Italian military, situations such as having a big family to support, being an orphan with a spinster sister, or having a widowed mother were considered valid reasons to be exempted from military service!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Italy: Germany, GERMANY! It’s me, it’s me, Italy, Italy!

Germany: YOU DON’T HAVE TO REPEAT IT!

{Caption: Halt}

Germany: Huah!

Germany’s thoughts: Scheiße!

(Scheiße!: Shit! → German)

Germany’s thoughts: Although this ist a coincidence, I don’t want things to get nasty!

(Ist: Is → German)

{Caption: Slam}

Dream Italy: Ow! Oweow!

Italy: Yay! Mr. Austriaaa!

{Caption: Ciao}

Italy: Ciao!

(Ciao!: Hello! → Italian)

Austria: Please stop touching me.

(Italy: Hmhm!)

Narrator: Italy is so sweet. Poor thing can’t hold a grudge to save his life.

(Italy: Ciao, ciao!)

Italy: Ciao!

(Ciao!: Hello! → Italian)

Germany: Ja, that’s Italy for you.

(Ja: Yes → German)

#anime #anime transcripts #anime dub transcripts #hetalia #hetalia dub transcripts

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 294: A Half-Assed Escape

Previously on BnHA: Mirio was all “SURPRISE I’M BACK THANKS TO OUR RESIDENT SEVEN-YEAR-OLD WHO RECENTLY EARNED HER BACHELOR’S OF BEING A TOTAL BADASS.” Kacchan was all, “you know what, Dabi’s been trending long enough, time to remind the fandom what a real G looks like,” and he blasted his little bleeding body back into the fray and was all “FROM HERE ON OUT CALL ME DYNAMIGHT!!” Mirio was all, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... oh, you’re serious,” and Kacchan was all “!!”, and so that’s the story of how my son got murdered twice in one day. Meanwhile in the Todoroki Drama Zone, Deku was all “STOP MURDERING MY FRIEND” and Dabi was all “THAT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS” and fandom had a whole big debate about Whether Or Not Dabi Trying To Murder Deku’s Friends And Mentors Is Any Of Deku’s Business, which went exactly how you think it went. Anyway, so then Deku yelled at Dabi, and Endeavor was all moved by his manly words and randomly went to go uppercut Machia in the chin. And, seeing as how the Momoserum finally chose that exact moment to kick in, Machia is now down for the count.

Today on BnHA: The Miriosquad handles the Nearly High End Noumus, freeing up Jeanist to jasphyxiate (okay that one doesn’t really work so well) the rest of the League. Compress is all “TIME FOR THIS MILD-MANNERED SIDE CHARACTER VILLAIN TO SHINE”, except that by “shine” what he actually means is “use his quirk to punch a literal hole right through his own ass to free himself.” The rest of the chapter is basically just a back and forth between him and Jeanist, with Jeanist trying to recapture him, and Compress repeatedly thwarting him by chopping more holes out of himself because HE’S FRESH OUT OF FUCKS, AND THE ONES AT THE STORE ARE ALL SOLD OUT, MOTHERFUCKERS. Anyway, so with Compress basically dying and all, Horikoshi is all “you know what that means”, and delivers a freshly-baked villain flashback revealing that Compress is a descendant of Harima Ouji, a.k.a. the Peerless Thief, a.k.a. some famous guy whom Gentle mentioned this one time for like two seconds back in the day. The chapter ends with Compress finally demasking himself and dumping Tomura back onto the ground, a.k.a. The Worst Possible Place For Tomura To Be. ( •﹏•)

WHY IS CRUST HERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD

-- OH WAIT, SHIT. OH

AIZAWAAAA you’re alive and receiving medical help thank GOD. HOW MANY EYES DO YOU HAVE. AND MIRKO!! HOW MANY LIMBS DO YOU HAVE, OMG

so is this Aizawa dreaming about Crust’s final moments, then?? jesus. with All Due Respect to Crust’s memory, does Aizawa not already have enough misplaced guilt on his conscience as it is?? “nope, we’re gonna keep piling it on. that’s all he is now. three limbs, an indeterminate number of eyes, sexy hair, and Guilt” well shit

motherfucker y’all really out here placing an oxygen mask on Gran Torino’s corpse. fucking shounen characters. each one comes with a lifetime warranty

DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI WHY DO YOU KEEP SHOWING THESE CLOSE-UPS OF HAWKS’S UNCONSCIOUS FACE ALL WHUMPED OUT AND EXHAUSTED. HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS ARE WE GOING TO GET. ARE YOU PLANNING ON KILLING ME WITH THE UPCOMING CONVALESCENCE ARC, BECAUSE IF SO, AT LEAST HAVE THE DECENCY TO TELL ME AHEAD OF TIME SO I CAN MAKE A WILL

for a moment I considered going back and checking my previous recaps to count how many times I’ve already made a joke about Dabi’s fire incinerating Hawks’s wings but not touching so much as a hair on his five o’clock shadow, so that I could calculate whether or not I could possibly get away with making that same joke one more time. but then I realized I could just do it in this kind of roundabout way I’m doing right now instead. so there you have it

FFFFFFFMT LADY AND MIDNIGHT NOOOOO

PLEASE BE ALIVE. PLEASE RESPECT THE SIGN ON THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING. THE ONE THAT SAYS “NO LADY CHARACTERS ALLOWED TO DIE”, WITH THE FINE PRINT AT THE BOTTOM “AT LEAST NOT UNTIL HORIKOSHI GIVES US LIKE TWENTY-SIX MORE OF THEM FIRST IF THAT’S THE WAY HE WANTS TO PLAY IT.” IT’S A GOOD SIGN, PLEASE RESPECT ITS WISHES!!

so anyway though, Jeanist is giving a speech about how god knows how many people all worked together to bring Machia down. and now RHA is getting in on those fabric puns too, I see. “A SINGLE STRAND MAY BE THIN BUT TOGETHER THEY FORM A STRONG ROPE” oh so you think you guys are funny eh? I’m a frayed knot

MEANWHILE EXCUSE ME BUT WHY ARE YOU FUCKING CRYING BLOOD, HOLY SHIT

fffffff. so much for him taking over as the Number One once all this is over. so let’s just recap real quick, because Horikoshi has long since made it clear that one of his plot goals for this arc is to wipe out every single member of the Billboard Top Ten. so how we doin?

Endeavor - was just figuratively eviscerated in front of the entire nation by his homicidal zombiepunk son. also burnt half to death and possibly down a lung. will almost certainly be forced to retire after this one way or the other

Hawks - lying prettily in a medical tent. wings status: gone. hair status: still perfect

Jeanist - WELL I THOUGHT HE WAS FINE BUT APPARENTLY HE’S OUT HERE DYING, JESUS CHRIST

Edgeshot - MIA, last seen fighting Re-Destro. I really want him to have kicked RD’s ass because fuck that guy, but realistically they probably fought to a draw at best

Mirko - alive but in critical condition and missing something like 1.5 limbs

Crust - dead, currently haunting Aizawa’s traumatized dreams. now he’s gonna be triggered the rest of his life by people giving him the thumbs up, THANKS A LOT

Kamui Woods - was set on fire which is His Weakness. thoughts and prayers

Wash - last seen floating hospital patients to safety as Tomura’s wave of decay descended towards him. probably dead ffff

Old Man Samurai - haven’t seen this fucker in a hot minute, who even knows where he’s wandered off to

Ryuukyuu - currently being treated for her wounds, looked pretty bad off. but it’s hard to tell how hurt she is since most of the injuries were acquired in her transformed state. SHE BETTER GET WELL SOON

anyways, so yeah. so much for the top ten. guess that’s another reason Horikoshi brought Mirio back now, huh

so there’s a big panel of everyone fighting the Noumu while Machia lies there all “blurgh.” good riddance my dude. it took like twenty chapters and a hundred people to stop this guy so I really fucking hope he stays down. you’ve had your fun

anyway so Jeanist is sending another steel thread towards Dabi! and he’s all “just a bit more!!” fklklj this is gonna go real well isn’t it

meanwhile Mirio’s fighting a Nearly High End with all of these weird rock formations jutting out of its skin. go on and kick his ass then, Mirio

“each of these guys is probably just as strong as the Noumu from Kyuushuu” hold on I thought Ujiko or Tomura or someone said that wasn’t the case? not that Mirio would know I suppose. anyways let’s just hope he’s wrong cuz if not these kids are probably screwed

kLSDKFHLSKHGLKLK OH MY GODDDD

IIDA FUCKING TENYA YOU’RE A PEACH. THINKS THE NAME IS OUTRAGEOUS, CHECK. USES IT ANYWAY, CHECK. “JUST BECAUSE I DON’T UNDERSTAND DOESN’T MEAN I CAN’T BE SUPPORTIVE.” WHAT A CLASS ACT

AND KACCHAN IS RESPONDING WITH AS MUCH DIGNITY AS HE CAN MUSTER

WOW, SON. IT’S ALMOST AS THOUGH YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, OR SOMETHING!! although listen up, real talk, the fact that Kacchan of all people can’t muster the energy to yell at someone questioning his ability to kick ass is HIGHKEY troubling and we may be in need of an intervention here soon :/

now Jeanist is finally turning his attention to the League! was... was it not already on the League. omg

ACTUAL SCREAMING AHHHHHH FUCK FUCKLK LK AHHLKHKFFFF

hey so um. what the actual fucked up hell. my soul left my body. imagine if you saw the reflection of this panel on your bedroom window. you would never sleep again

OKAY RHA TRANSLATORS ARE YOU HAVING YOURSELF A LAUGH AGAIN

THIS CANNOT BE WHAT HE’S ACTUALLY SAYING RIGHT. BUT IT’S RIGHT IN THAT UNCANNY VALLEY OF NOT BEING QUITE SURE, THOUGH... (　ﾟдﾟ)

(ETA: just a next-day clarification here, apparently my sleep-deprived ADHD word-skipping brain completely skipped right over the “a” in that last panel, so what I read was, “and Shigaraki’s limp noodle.” so yeah, the moral of this story is always read the speech bubble carefully before you start making running jokes throughout the rest of your post, folks.)

oh wow he’s really freaking out lmao

to be fair though, I’d argue that Dabi has gotten pre-tty close at this point :’) thrilled for him, really I am

but anyway, well then figure something out you big dramatic robot-armed fiend. didn’t you just say you could touch your own ass? can you not just Compress yourself to break free?? does it not work on you? or would you be stuck afterwards lol

(ETA: I was picturing him compressing his entire body at once, not just chunks of it. ghhhlkh.)

um

holy shit Jeanist. are you stupidly trying to cut off their air, or are you going for more of a sleeper hold (jleeper hold??) thing instead. the latter would be way smarter and faster and probably safer as well just saying

but unless Spinner is just being super dramatic, it sure looks like he’s fucking strangling them djslkjlk. this will certainly cement his popularity among the villain stans. good thing you’re not running for office any time soon bud

anyway so I have no idea what these guys are trying to do now. what is this

do you even have till the count of 5 at this rate. I mean

OH MY GOODNESS

HE’S REALLY FUCKING DOING IT!! HE’S COMPRESSING HIS BUTT!! OMFG. TOMURA HIDE YOUR NOODLE!!!

WHAT THE FUCK

DID YOU COMPRESS A PIECE OF YOUR OWN ASS. FUCKING WHAT. PUT THIS MAN’S PICTURE IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO THE WORD “LOYALTY”, HOLY CRAP

HOLY SHIT COMPRESS

“HOLY SHIT DID THAT GUY JUST PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH HIS OWN ASS IN ORDER TO SAVE HIS VILLAIN PALS. FUCK IT, HE DESERVES TO ESCAPE”

jeez, talk about... A HALF-ASSED ESCAPE ATTEMPT :D :D :D hahaha. but real talk though, Horikoshi has clearly never tried to leap twelve feet straight up in the air multiple times in succession with only half his glutes though. everyone, I regret to inform you that this panel right here on the left may be slightly unrealistic

also where the hell is he going to go?? did you pack a jetpack away in one of those little marbles sir. and what about Dabi?? and Skeptic too, I guess, but we don’t really care about Skeptic

(ETA: at this point I had to stop reading for about two hours because I had to go out and take care of something; that’s also why this is being posted later than usual lol. anyways so where were we.)

oh my lord

the existence of a translator’s note here implies that the earlier line about Compress being able to reach Tomura’s junk was not, in fact, ad-libbed. hmm. hmmmmmmmm

anyway so now he’s grabbing Compress again because OF COURSE HE IS, so now we’re right back to square one! except now Tomura and Spinner are secured inside of little marbles, and presumably Compress is the only one who can release them

oh nevermind he’s just maiming himself again instead, SHEESH

Skeptic a man is dying please have some goddamn respect

so, uh. is he gonna die, though??

I really can’t tell wtf is going on here, this is the most confusing the art has been in a while. Horikoshi put all of his spoons into that creepyass close-up panel earlier, that bastard

OMG WHAT ARE YOU SERIOUS

DON’T FUCKING TELL ME THE “COMPRESS IS RELATED TO THIS THIEF GUY FROM OLDEN TIMES” THEORY IS ACTUALLY TRUE WHAAAAAAT. OH SHIT

so apparently Harima was a Robin Hood type guy who stole from... heroes?? wtf. are heroes the 1% in this scenario. y’all didn’t have any Fortune 500 CEOs to steal from?

THAT’S THE BLOOD THAT FLOWS THROUGH YOU, OH SHIT. and in a related oh shit, the fact that we are getting a Compress flashback now of all times doesn’t bode super well for him. ffff

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKIS ARE STILL TODOROKI-ING

listen here boy if you touch one freaking hair on Shouto’s candy cane head I swear to god --

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY!!!

SHOUTO NOOOOOO. WTF YOU’RE LITERALLY THE ONE GUY WHOSE WEAKNESS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FIRE. DABI YOU SHIT, YOU BETTER WATCH YOURSELF!! I’M PRINTING OUT A COPY OF THAT COMPRESS PANEL!!! KEEP AN EYE OUT ON THAT BEDROOM WINDOW YOU PUNK!!!

SO NOW POOR SHOUTO IS UNCONSCIOUS AND FALLING!! SOMEONE SAVE HIM!! WHO CATCHES THE CATCHER

COMPRESS LITERALLY HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE RIGHT NOW, WHAT IS HAPPENING

PLEASE DON’T CALL TOMURA LEADER OF THE “PLF” YOU KNOW I CAN’T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY WHEN YOU DO THAT. ARE YOU DYING. ARE YOU JUST A FUCKING HEAD NOW WTF

(ETA: “masks are removable, makeste” you know what it’s been a long day okay lmao. or I suppose Compress is really the one who is lmao.)

GASPPPPPP

okay. okay. looooool okay then

WHY WERE YOU COVERING THIS SEXY MOP OF HAIR UNDER THAT HOOD YOU TOOL. IT WOULD HAVE LOOKED SO GOOD WITH THE TOP HAT. I’M SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW

as if it wasn’t enough for him to demask himself, he also had to get all shirtless and then do this weird attempt at a sexypose too huh

hard to say exactly how much of his torso is currently missing, but safe to say that’s proooooooobably not good. :///// fuck

on the other hand, Kacchan also has a torso hole and he’s still flying around like he just drank a dozen red bulls, so

this man lost his ass and he’s still out here monologuing like it’s the last two minutes of The Prestige. one might say he is monologuing his ass off

so he let Spinner and Tomura free, but is Dabi still trapped in his marble?? wasn’t he all on fire and stuff?? hopefully he can still turn off his quirk in there because if not that’s a pretty fucked up way to die. somewhere out there Snatch’s ghost is all “YEAH I’LL SAY.” oh how the turntables

last but not least, sooooooo. Tomura. back on the ground. that’s. um. ...shiiiiiiiit

#bnha 294 #mr. compress #...and actually that's pretty much it lol #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #sorry this is up later than usual (and mostly unedited as well) #just one of those days

[45percenterthen]

Belated bday fic for bearer of cursed fruit facts @seraphlm and thee plant dad cas truther @cactuscas !! Love u guys v much, happy bday <3 (ao3 link here)

“Fuck’s a horoscope again? It’s like, stars and shit, right?”

He bumps Cas’ elbow, who’s squinting at one of his fern-looking-things like he’s experimenting with horticultural telepathy. The saga of the fern-thing has been turbulent, to say the least. It’s wilting a bit, leaves curling in on themselves like tiny fists. Cas has spent the past few days carting it from one window ledge to another, muttering to himself about humidity levels with a familiar air of irritated devotion. Dean reckons the whole underground bunker situation probably isn’t helping. It’s well travelled, though, for a plant. Dean thinks it should be more grateful.

Cas nods, releasing a leaf with a sigh and sitting down next to Jack. “Indeed. Stars and shit.”

Jack’s engrossed in some magazine, finger tracing the words as he reads. Cas reaches for the edge of the page to hold it taut for him, and Dean can practically see his other hand itching for his phone. Diagnosis time for the fern-thing. Dean’s never seen a favorites bar so wholly taken up by gardening websites. Dean’s pretty sure the definition of true love is pausing Die Hard to read an article about potting soil drainage.

“Do you want to hear yours, Dean? It’s for this week.”

“Sure, kiddo.” To be honest, Dean thinks the concept of fate can very much, actually, go fuck itself. Jack looks delighted though, so he keeps it to himself. He stirs a bit of extra butter into the eggs because that’s the way Jack likes them, dutifully not looking at Cas to avoid a depressing conversation about his cholesterol levels.

“Oh! It says you’re lucky this week, Dean!”

“Awesome, bud! Time to stock up on the scratch cards, eh?”

Sam chooses that moment to come lumbering in. The state of his hair suggests a sleepless night, or that a recent localized hurricane that targeted his bedroom only.

“Hi Sam! We’re reading horoscopes. Dean’s an Aquarius.”

“Oh, cool.” Eileen had been delayed on a salt and burn with some of the new-hunter-network people. Sam looks suitably mopey about it, forlorn housewife that he is. “Mercury’s in marmalade, and all that.”

“Aquarius is ruled by Uranus,” Jack continues, and Sam instantly chokes. On air, apparently. Bastard.

“One more time, Jack? Dean’s ruled by his –”

“You’re a child, Samantha.” Dean looks around for the nearest something-painful-not-fatal to throw at him. Plant’s a no. Instant divorce. He glances at the eggs, but decides he doesn’t want to spend his morning getting egg yolk outta the tile grouting.

“Dude, oh my – I should’ve just checked your horoscope,” Sam walks over to the fridge, catching the Mary Berry’s Baking Bible that Jody sent them for Christmas in mid-air. “Would’ve saved us a talk.”

“Eat your pineapple and shut up, man.”

“Did you know that pineapples are technically berries?” Jack says. Dean wonders if Cas introduced him to WebMD-for-plants. Or maybe this is just a side effect of being The New God on the block. Berry omniscience. “Well. The outside bit is. Bananas are berries too.”

“That’s weird,” Sam closes the fridge door. Stares into his bowl like he’s offended. Dean’s offended Sam eats nothing but fruit in the morning. “After the heaven rebuild. You should, like, fix berries.”

Jack turns to Cas solemnly. “Should I fix berries?”

“Perhaps you should concentrate on heaven, first. Then we can see about berries.”

“I don’t want to ruin the fabric of our established universe,” Jack says, and Dean’s struck, once again, with the sudden realisation that he’s making eggs for the most powerful entity in Creation. Mondays, man.

“I don’t think Chuck had any such purity of intent in mind,” Cas says darkly, pouring more milk into God’s glass for strong bones and teeth, and yeah, Dean’s pretty keen to steer Cas away from that particular line of conversation.

“Hey, what’s Cas’ horo-whatever?” He takes the eggs off the heat and walks over to the table, leaning over to see what the hell magazine this is, actually. Looks Rowena-y. Is the Queen of Hell sending his son-God care packages? That’s one way to establish diplomatic relations.

He rests his hands on Cas’ shoulders, stroking his thumbs at the neckline of his t-shirt when he feels tension. He decides against pressing a kiss to Cas’s hair. Just ‘cause he’s with a dude now, doesn’t mean he’s gonna be all gay about it. Cas’ left hand comes up to cover his own. Their rings clink.

“Cas doesn’t have a birthday, though.” Jack frowns at the page slightly, apparently looking for the section on fallen angel anomalies.

“Then we’ll have to pick one –” Dean starts, just as Cas says, “September eighteenth.”

Cas tips his head back against Dean’s chest, peers up at him. He’s got dried toothpaste at the corner of his mouth. Dean grins stupidly at his upside-down face. “September eighteenth, yeah.” Something swoops in his chest. Cas is earnest, and it’s unbearable. He loves at full volume, and Dean’s as grateful as he is undeserving. He squeezes Cas’ shoulder. Tradition, and all that.

Jack taps the page. “It says you’re a Virgo, Cas!”

They’re still staring at each other as Jack starts reading aloud. Dean brushes hair off Cas’ forehead and thinks, for once, he’s landed himself the permanent kind of happy. Dean’s pretty sure he’s loved him for years and years, quietly, achingly.

There’s the sound of cutlery against ceramic, and Dean looks up to check Sammy’s not weeping into his fruit bowl out of sheer girlish pride or whatever. He’d made it six words into his best man speech before the waterworks. Dean’s never letting him live it down.

⁂

“So,” Dean says later, after Sam’s gone to collect Eileen from town, and Jack’s off on heavenly refurb duty. “My lucky week, huh?”

Dean circles his arms round Cas’ midriff. Lets his chin rest on his shoulder, because he can, and also to check Cas isn’t half-assing the washing up.

“Apparently so.”

Dean hums. It’s funny. They’re married. And yet moments like these, the big ones, still manage to make him a bit nervous. It’s stupid. He’s hardly gonna say no. But Dean supposes they’ve never managed to get anything in the right order. Two deathbed confessions amidst a decade of friendship. An ‘I love you too’ echoing off brick in an empty room. Two kids co-parented before they even kissed, and they were already living together when they started dating. Someone get Nicholas Sparks on the phone.

“Perfect week to put an offer down on a house then, right? That one on the lake?”

Cas drops a fork into the bubbles. He turns his head to reply and Dean takes it as an opportunity to kiss what’s within reach. The smile lines around his eye, his temple greying with the proof that Cas loves him. He’s all in. Dean is too, terrifyingly.

“Really?”

“Yeah, dude.” Dean nods at the fern guy. “Your plants would appreciate the sunlight, right? And there’s a room for Jack.”

Cas spins in his arms, leaning against the sink to look Dean in the eye. Dean grabs at his soapy palm, intertwining their fingers, confident in his sappiness when no one’s watching.

“I know I always say Sammy didn’t make the most of his college experience, but dorming in my forties isn’t exactly what I meant –”

“You’ll miss him, though.”

“Of course, man. Lived with Sam my whole life. But,” Dean relinquishes the hand to cup Cas’ face, “I kinda wanna do my own thing now. With you. So, move in with me, Mr. Winchester? Somewhere… overground?”

It’s so off-your-feet sweepingly romantic Dean feels like he deserves a medal. Maybe this is their karmic justice after the proposal debacle.

Cas is smiling at him, soft and sweet. “Okay, Dean.” He puts wet hands around his waist and Dean doesn’t even care that it’s seeping through his t-shirt. “Lake house it is.”

Dean leans in, kisses him three times in response. He lingers on the last one, smiling against Cas’ mouth. Cas knows what he means.

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #zoesarahbday #deancas fic #bro I will shoehorn zoe’s cursed pineapple knowledge into this fic if it kills me #my writing

[mintmatcha]

10 Months

Matsukawa and Hanamaki

Part One

CW: mentions of death and illness, ANGST

Today’s just another day at work. Someone’s dead and someone else is talking about it. 

The worst part of the job, Mattsun decides, isn’t consoling the grieving or dealing with the aftermath of death: it’s listening to these shitty, repetitive speeches. There’s only so many times a man can hear about God’s plan and how much better someone is now that they’ve entered the great beyond before he goes numb. Sure, yes, logically, he understands this is all sad, but before all else?

 It’s boring.

Has he always been this bitter? Has he always been this good at choking down his feelings? Probably.

Mattsun looks away from the speaker at the front of the room, who's droning on about some shit while practically draped over the coffin. He does a precursory scan across the room, making sure everyone was properly teary eyed and mourning, before pulling out his phone. Maybe it’s unprofessional, but it doesn’t matter. No one’s looking at the funeral director during these things. If they were, it was something for them to discuss later during the reception.

'Did you see that employee?' 

'No, I was crying.'

'He was on his phone!'

'How horrible!'

Just before he can open Twitter, a glimpse of unforgettable, bright strawberry blonde hair catches his eye. For a moment, he ignores it off. He’s used to imagining things, used to his brain searching for hints of pink wherever he goes. He's used to turning his head to see it was a trick of the eye.

But this time the color doesn’t fade. Instead, it comes into focus, catching the light that pours through the stained glass windows, rainbows painted across pale skin. All at once, the presence becomes real, and Mattsun feels like he’s seen a ghost.

Not a literal one, but, fuck, he might as well be.

It’s been years since he’s seen Makki, longer since they actually talked, but there he was, standing at the back of the parlor with an obituary in hand. He loathes himself for the way excitement bubbles inside him and his heart gets caught in his throat… and then immediately drops as he processes why Makki would be here. He tries to remember the last name of the deceased, hoping the last name wouldn’t be familiar. Makki’s dad was never in good health, could it be-

No, he definitely would have recognized anyone else with the last name Hanamaki.

That’s when it hits him that Makki isn’t dressed for the funeral. In a sea of black, he’s wearing some raggedy sweatshirt with coffee split down the sleeve and a loose pair of jeans, ripped in all the wrong places. Frankly, he looks like shit, but he’s just leaning against the door frame, standing there like he belongs, with a tiny little grin on his face. 

Makki never looks over, too involved in the speech, but he’s aware of Mattsun’s presence. His torso is angled to face his old friend, chest broad and inviting. Mattsun hates that after all these years, he can still read his body language and understand what it means. It’s an invitation to come over.

Mattsun has to stop himself from going over there. Time has passed, he’s made his choices. He can’t just drop his work for an old friend.

No, not a friend. Stranger adjacent. 

He’s made his choices. 

He stays where he should be, in the corner, for what feels like hours, autopiloting through the rest of the service. By the time it’s all over, and the lights are dimmed, Makki’s already gone.

Mattsun hates that he knows exactly where to find him.

.

.

They find each other behind the parlor, wedged between the building and the dumpster. Makki’s sitting on the curb, legs folded up under him and pressed into his chest. That signature smile hasn’t faded, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. He pats the empty space next to him, but Mattsun just shakes his head and stays standing. 

“Just like high school, huh?” Makki says, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pouch. He taps the bottom four times,  then shakes it, hard. Waking up the cancer, making sure it’s out of bed, he used to joke. 

“Except we aren’t hiding from teachers anymore.” Mattsun kicks at a crumpled soda can and watches it bounce across the asphalt. “And you’ve changed brands.”

“Now we’re hiding from your boss.” Makki pulls a stick out and waves it, “And Iwaizumi’s not here to bitch about it.”

“Dude,” Mattsun tries not to sigh, but it sneaks out. The casual act was unsettling; Makki was pretending that past 3 years never happened. “I’m happy to see you and all, but I’m working right now.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Makki pats his pockets frantically, then pulls out a small pink lighter. It's not the same pink as his hair, but it's close. He brushes it against his pants, back then forward, opening it and lighting it in one smooth motion. He holds out the cigarette, twirling it between his fingers, “Help me light this, why don’t you?”

Mattsun blanches, scoffing in annoyance at the thought. There's the flash of a memory, Hiro's fingers against his lips, holding the cigarettes for him as he breathes in, skinned knees brushing against each other, but he pushes it down.

 “Hanamaki, I-”

“I’ve been demoted to just Hanamaki, huh?” he places it between his teeth and sets it alight, sucking in until the end glows orange. He holds still, savoring the moment, then lets out his breath, smoke seeping out through his teeth. “So, it turns out that I need to plan a funeral.”

Mattsun lets his apathy break, just for a moment. He runs his hands through his hair, completely fucking up the slicked back style as he processes this.  “Fuck, dude, I’m sorry.”

“Eh, don’t be.” Makki shrugs, “Not the end of the world.”

Mattsun blinks, trying to shake off the initial shock. He just lets his work persona take over. “Well, we would be happy to help you plan. We can scheduling for next week in my office, if you want-”

“There’s no rush, don’t worry.” Makki leans back and faces the sun. Even though he’s sitting on the ground, no more than 5 feet from garbage, he seems so peaceful. 

“Who’s it for?” Mattsun asks the obvious question and Makki grins wider, like he’s been waiting for this moment. He waggles his fingers in the air, like he’s celebrating.

“Me.” Makki says. He rolls his head forward and that pleasant air about him fades. It strikes Mattsun that he’s lost weight since high school; his already sharp features are more sullen, sunken into his face. “I’m dying.”

How hadn’t he noticed earlier? He spent so much time looking at Hiro in high school, so much time studying his features…. How could he miss such a dramatic change? Even now, he can remember exactly how the curve his cheek felt under his thumb, how smooth his skin was. Mattsun doesn’t realize he’s sitting until loose gravel bites into the palms of his hands.

“Fuck, dude.” he can only look straight ahead, focusing on nothing, “Are--- are you sure?”

“As sure as medical science can get,” he has the audacity to laugh, “I got brain cancer.”

Brain cancer. Mattsun knows what that means in a vague sense and yet it means almost nothing to him. Questions bubble up in his mind, all of them swimming around, begging for any sort of information to make this all make sense. 

"How long?" He wanted to ask anything else, but that’s the only sentence he could form.

" 'bout 7 inches.” Makki pauses for affect, “Oh, you meant how long do I have left to live?" he's grinning wildly at his own joke, waiting for Mattsun to react. When he doesn't he just takes another drag of his cigarette, smile never fading. "I thought it was funny.”

"It was a little funny." Mattsun relents, gesturing for the butt. It's passed with brushing fingers, knuckle against knuckle. It's been years since he's smoked- since third year of high school- but each pull still burns all the same. "How long?"

"Well, two months ago they told me I had years," he says, like it's nothing, "But the doc did a rescan and it's way worse than they thought.” He taps his temple,  “Apparently, three lil fuckers in there."

"How long?" Mattsun can’t stop repeating himself.

"10 months." he wobbles his hand side to side, “Give or take.”

Mattsun takes another drag, harder this time. It’s unfair that he’s this upset about it, that this isn’t just another funeral to him.

“Whoa, don’t hog the whole thing!” Makki grabs for his cigarette, opening and closing his hand like a small child, “You’ll get cancer from these, you know? ”

Mattsun doesn’t laugh. He just watches the ember fall on to his slacks. They flare of a quick moment before dying, leaving  little discolored burns in their wake.

“Both of us can’t get cancer- it’d be like wearing the same dress to a party. So embarrassing.” he finally just snatches it out of Mattsun’s hand, “So, are you going to help me?”

“H-help you.” he repeats back. Nothing that’s happening right now feels real.

“With my funeral. Duh.”

“You want me to plan your service?” Mattsun asks.

“Well, us. Not just you. Duh.”

Duh. 

“Why?” Mattsun breaths and yet he feels like he’s suffocating, “Why me? After everything I did-”

“I don’t want my dad to worry about it.” Makki kisses his teeth and pulls himself into a ball,  “He almost had a heart attack trying to figure out my mom’s and I …. I just don’t want him to worry.” Makki breathes out through his nose- it’s how he dispels negativity in his life, just like how he did in high school. “Besides, if I plan it, it doesn’t have to be some fucking boring ass pity party. We can make it fun. A fun-eral.”

These all just seem like words. There’s meaning behind them, sure, but they don’t seem to mean anything when they’re strung together like this. Mattsun wonders if this is shock, or some weird form of it. He’s seen it before, in the eyes of family’s blindly choosing and planning. He always thought they dumb, not knowing how to react, not knowing if they should be sad or angry or …. Something. 

But he gets it now. The news doesn’t always sink in.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admits after a long moment, “I don’t… I don’t think I’m processing this.”

Makki pushes off of the curb and stands, brushing off dust from his pants. “I get it. It’s a lot to hear.” he flashes a peace sign over his shoulder as he starts down the alley, “Think about it and get back to me.” A thin puff of smoke curls into the air, “My number’s the same as it always was.”

Mattsun sits there, hidden between the dumpster and his work, and tries to process as he watches Makki walk out of his life once again.

[techno-woman]

WELCOME TO THE FRIEZA FORCE, MY DEAR

(FRIEZA X READER)

::The following story takes place after DragonBall Fighterz villains arc. I do not own any DBZ characters. Enjoy the story!::

It has been over a month since you had returned to your own body after Frieza kicked you out despite you accepting his offer to join him. Honestly you didn’t have much to keep you here on earth anyway since bad luck had a habit of shooting down your spirits. It all started when you had graduated from high school; your dad suffered from a stroke and eventually succumbed to it within two months, your brother was killed in a car crash with your mother two years later, and just recently you had broken up with your boyfriend whom you’ve been dating for four years after finding out that he was cheating on you with another woman. You’ve at least managed to keep your job at a fast food restaurant thanks to your hard working attitude,however; your heart has been closed off since the breakup and you were tired of all the misery in your life so far that it wouldn’t have even mattered if you ended up robbed, murdered or worse.

Then one day you found yourself linked up with Frieza. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out how much of an evil prick he was after the way he spoke to you for the first time. He was obviously not a happy camper when he noticed you were controlling his body and not him. Although you couldn’t necessarily blame him since body snatching wasn’t your cup of tea either. Frieza had openly expressed his disgust towards you many times and while his attitude may have annoyed you to no end you somehow oddly find some comfort in it. Perhaps it was because you too had days where you just had to let out your frustrations though it was all in private. You’ve powered through mentally with Frieza because the sting of your ex’s betrayal was still fresh. But working with the tyrant hasn’t been so terrible not when you had experienced his amazing power which would’ve been found in a comic book or a superhero movie. You felt invincible, untouchable almost like a god and you loved it especially the flying part.

The link you had with Frieza had become more stronger with each battle and along the way you encountered Nappa, Captain Ginyu and the Ginyu force, Cell, Goku, Vegeta, Krillin,and the rest of the z fighters. Through them you experienced each of their own unique powers and got along with most of them. Even Frieza was showing subtle signs of him warming up to you which you were grateful for. But deep down you couldn’t help but develop some attachments to the emperor of the universe himself. You weren’t sure if he had felt the same way as you when he had offered you a position in his army after you both took out Android 21 and you knew for a fact that you wouldn’t make a good soldier since part of Frieza’s requirements to joining the Frieza force included strength which you weren’t confident about despite how well you were doing with the link. But of course if it meant that you could start your life anew and leave your misfortune behind then you’d gladly take it. Then afterwards Frieza had warmly welcomed you to join his forces when Android 21 was taken down at last. You smiled at the thought of being in space looking at the stars and planets while riding in a spaceship boldly going where no human has ever gone before. Suddenly Frieza, Cell, Ginyu and Nappa immediately began charging up when their powers had returned to them, getting ready to attack Goku and the gang and before you knew it Frieza chased you out of his body so he could fight Goku without you holding him back. Devastated and heartbroken at the tyrant’s actions you took to the skies leaving Frieza to exact his revenge on his sayian nemesis.

That was the last time you saw him and you never got to tell him how you felt about him. You shook your head as you headed into work wiping away your tears deciding that you were better off without him anyway. You didn’t have much to offer to a guy like that except for your loyalty and love which you doubted that he would be capable of. Two hours in and the events of last month had already been pushed to the back of your mind as you worked hard cleaning dishes, prepping up food, and sweeping up the floor. The lights flickered faintly above and you thought to yourself that the light bulbs must be starting to give out. You were wiping down the tables when a random guy came up to you in an attempt to flirt with you but you ignored him completely.

“What time do you get off, cutie?” The man asked you.

“Sorry sir but I cannot indulge such information to someone I do not know.” You said with a customer friendly tone which surprised you internally to hear such words coming from your own mouth. Apparently you picked up some of Frieza’s elegant speech pattern while you were linked with him.

The man looked surprised in a happy way. “Fancy way of talking, eh? Then how about you let me take you somewhere fancy to eat after you get off?”

“No thank you.” You said as you started to get irritated with him. The lights above you started to flicker.

“Don’t be like that, baby. I can treat you real nice.” The guy insisted.

“Please sir, I have work to do and I am not interested. Have a nice day.” You told him as you kept your tone friendly while your temper was rising. The lights flickered faster causing several of the staff and customers to look in confusion.

“C’mon don’t tell me that a pretty face like you already has a boyfriend?” Inquired the guy.

Now it was starting to get too personal for your liking as the memories of your ex flowed into your mind like a stream of water. Anger was bubbling up as the flickering lights intensified causing everyone to become concerned and even scared. “That is no concern of yours. Now please leave me alone and have a nice day.” You clenched your teeth as you managed to say in a sweet tone while keeping a grip on your temper. You were getting ready to head back into the kitchen when you felt a hand grab your arm and pulled you back.

“What’s the matter, bitch?” The guy hissed. “You think you’re too good to have a good time with guys like me?” He smelled like he hasn’t bathed in a week and his grip on you grew tighter.

Your coworkers and a few customers saw this and attempted to get him to let you go. But the guy insisted that he was your boyfriend and that it was no one’s business.

“SHUT UP JACKASS! YOU’RE NO ONE TO ME!” You yelled angrily at him and at that same time the lights that were flickering above you exploded. Everyone in the store screamed and covered their heads as glass fell upon them. A fire broke out causing several staff members to grab fire extinguishers and put out the fire.

The customers ran out screaming in panic as you were also running out of the store. You didn’t know what was going on but you did know that this had never happened in the restaurant before. So why now? Sounds of police sirens were drawing close as was the firefighters and you just hoped that no one got hurt. Suddenly you felt arms grabbing you by the waist and you were then carried off by someone.

“Hey! Let me go!” You exclaimed. “Put me down! What do you think you’re doing!”

“It’s just us, human!” Said a familiar gruff yet friendly voice.

You turned to see none other than Captain Ginyu of the Ginyu force. “Ginyu!” You cried as you instantly gave him a hug.

“Don’t forget about us, sheila!” Jeice said happily.

“Hey Jeice, Burter, Recoome, Guldo! It’s great to see you guys again!” You grinned as you saw the rest of the Ginyu force. “But how did you know where to find me?”

Ginyu pointed to the scouter on his face. “We detected your ki with these and by the looks of it your ki skyrocketed to another level!”

You looked at him confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Didn’t you see what had just happened at the restaurant?” Burter asked pointing back to where your job was.

You felt your heart sink as you came to realize what they were talking about. “I did that?”

“You sure did!” Recoome said with a smile.

“But that’s never happened before. I don’t understand why it would happen now.” You said still trying to grasp the reality of the situation.

Ginyu looks at you with a sympathetic expression on his face. “Perhaps it’s because you were linked with Lord Frieza and that his ki has awakened yours.”

You looked up in surprise. “Really?”

“That’s the only explanation that I can think of. But let’s get you to Lord Frieza first.” Ginyu said taking off into the sky with the others.

“So Frieza wants to see me now after he booted me out?” You said in a sarcastic tone.

“My apologies, huma-“

“It’s Y/n.” You interrupted Ginyu.

“Y/n. Please forgive Lord Frieza. He has been humiliated twice by Goku and needed to get his revenge for it.” Ginyu said.

You huffed. “Did he succeeded?”

“All I can say is that it ended in a stalemate.”

“Figures.” You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t mean to speak out sir but is no one going to say anything about y/n here being a woman?” Guldo asked.

“Is there something wrong with that?” You asked with a small smile.

“No. Not at all. Just surprised is all.” Guldo said.

Minutes later aboard Frieza’s ship....

Frieza stood by the window as you entered with the Ginyu force leading ahead.

“Lord Frieza, we’ve brought the human with us.” Ginyu said as he bowed.

“Excellent work, Captain Ginyu.” Frieza said in a happy tone while turning slowly to face you. “It has been awhile my dear. You look so much lovelier in person.” He smiles his usual smile that you had come to recognize as his causal expression.

“You don’t seem surprised that I am a girl.” You said observering him and then noticed his tail wiggling about almost like Frieza was glad to see you in the flesh.

“I had Nappa keep a close eye on you afterwards since Saiyans can be easily passed off as humans when their tails are well hidden that is.” Frieza said as he approached you.

“Well no wonder why Nappa has been absent lately.” Guldo mumbled.

You turned your head to glare at Ginyu and the others. “Scouter my ass. You already knew where I was at, didn’t you?”

“Easy Y/n, we weren’t lying about the scouters picking up your ki level. Besides even with Nappa we aren’t familiar with the city you were living in.” Ginyu said.

Frieza cleared his throat getting your attention back onto him who was directly standing in front of you face to face. “As I was saying; I had ordered Nappa to watch over you after the Android 21 incident. When you left I sensed a slight change in your ki and made a mental note to look into it after I delt with that damned Saiyan Goku.”

“I was told that it was a stalemate.” You said.

Frieza grimaced. “It would not have been such a stalemate if Cell hadn’t tried to steal my glory for the last time.” His tail curled up much like how a fist would ball up in anger.

“Did you....kill him?” You asked.

“No, of course not. Goku’s eldest son already did him in with Maijin Buu.” Frieza said. “But enough of that. I believe we have much to discuss about your future here on the Frieza force.”

“Thanks but there’s a concern that I’d like to address with you. Namely my sudden ki rising. Captain Ginyu said that it was the result of our souls being linked together. Is it true?” You asked.

Frieza watched you before motioning for Ginyu and the others to leave the room. They did so without hesitation and now it was just you and him alone. “Indeed it is as you were told. The slight increase of your ki didn’t happen when you and I first met but after destroying Android 21 was when it changed. I have surmised that while you were linked with me your ki was being amplified by mine thus causing it to grow with each battle we’ve faced. Though it is not as strong as mine it’ll at least give you a bit of an edge to defend yourself with.”

“How long do you think it’ll last?” You asked.

Frieza closed his eyes and sighed in annoyance. “Don’t you understand what this means exactly? I’m saying this is permanent. That this newly awakened ki is what you’ll be living with from now on.”

You were dumbfounded at this. You now had powers of your own and yet you were unsure about how to handle it. Or if you could handle it. “Oh boy.” You covered your face with your hands as you rubbed your eyes with them. “This is a lot to take in.”

“For you I have no doubt that it is.” Frieza said flicking his tail casually. “Fortunately you will have plenty of time getting use to it in my army.”

“I probably might but there’s also the issue of controlling it. Before the Ginyu force picked me up I was getting upset with this one guy trying to make a pass at me and when I lost my temper the lights exploded above us.” You told him.

Frieza hummed with curiosity. “Certain emotions often trigger such power like yours. Perhaps that will be something we can work on together.” His tail then slowly wraps around your waist as he pulls your body into his. “I’m sure that you will find it most enjoyable.”

You blushed at how close you were to him and even more so when his tail pulsed. “Frieza? Just to be honest with you, I’m still upset with you for kicking me out.”

“I had a score to settle with Goku. You of all people should understand that. Especially with the amount of time that we’ve spent together sharing the same body.” Frieza said in a stern tone as he took your chin into his hand. “It’s Y/n, yes?”

You nodded.

Frieza smiled his mischievous and cruel smile. “Welcome to the Frieza force, my dear y/n.”

#dragonball fighterz #frieza x reader #dbz #frieza