#yeah everything in this manga hits like a fucking truck

[meownotgood]

nothing in chainsaw man will ever hit me harder than this quote right here

#yeah everything in this manga hits like a fucking truck #but this is the WORST #I can't see the rest of this series animated #for my own mental well-being #I'm not sure if I've talked about this much on here #but I re-read the chainsaw man manga very frequently #like whenever I need to pass the time or I just miss the story I'll re-read chapters #but after chapter 72...... I always stop reading..... #like yeah the story ended there.... aki and denji and power withdrew from public safety and lived the rest of their lives in peace #I don't have the mental fortitude to read the ending again...... when I reread....... #I AM WEEEEAAAAAKKKKKK #I AM WEAK AND FRAGILE #BAH. #aki <3 #the fact that aki found out he was going to die #and all he scared about #was making sure power and denji were safe. #I need.... several moments.

[rwbyconversations]

The Scarlet Letter: Let’s talk about RWBY’s male LGBT rep

I have been sitting on this post for nearly four weeks waiting until the 15th due to the Before the Dawn spoiler rules.

So let's start with a blunt statement: RWBY's male LGBT representation has not been good. If the series' handling of female LGBT rep is good (which... well there's worse shows) and the general standard for how you write LGBT characters in a show like this, its handling of male rep has been... how not to. And Before the Dawn kinda solidified the idea in my head that the show's handling of its male LGBT cast just isn't good enough, either by the standards of when RWBY began in 2013, or today in 2020 when compatively massive steps have been taken over the past decade to show a more diverse list of characters... or at least a more diverse list of female characters.

I don't wanna make this a pissing match over how over-or-under-represented male or female LGBT characters are, but I feel like it's safe to say that the majority of the trend-setters for modern romances, especially in western animation, have been between women. Korra and Asami from Korra, Chloe and Max from Life is Strange, Marceline and Bubblegum in Adventure Time, (insert the relevant Steven Universe characters here, never watched it), and more recently, Adora and Catra in She-Ra and Luz in Owl House.

Compatively, while studies have shown that in general male LGBT characters get more appearances on a purely numerical level, in general they're more one-off characters there to pad a roster, or played more for comedy (see Josh Gad in the Beauty and the Beast remake or the gay guy in Avengers Endgame that was more notable for how hard China and Russia snapped him out of existance). The only big male-LGBT focused media I can think of from the last decade would be Yuri On Ice, Moonlight, IDW's Transformers: More Than Meets The Eye (Chromedome/Rewind best pairing fuck you Roberts for issue 16) Love Simon, and the anime adaptation of Banana Fish.

So it's no surprise that RWBY basically follows these ideas. It's big romance is (unless the writers are very stupid) going to be between Blake and Yang, their first out character was Ilia, Coco got sent to the Book Dimension where she confirmed "I use my sunglasses to perv on women without their knowledge" which uh... yeah you can definitely tell RWBY is written by men... and Volume 6 had Saph and Terra being a good example of an LGBT couple without any real drama. In the last three years alone, the show has drastically increased its lesbian and bisexual characters, alongside even including its first out trans character in May Marigold (albeit only revealed on Twitter). In general, these depictions of sexuality have been pretty OK. Would have liked it if Ilia wasn't immediately written out of the show after Volume 5 as it made her feel a bit more disposable than intended but whatever, subject for another day.

RWBY's male rep though is a bit spottier. There's the plant bois in Volume 5's premiere, we nearly had Pilot Boi until some last-minute revisions, and... Scarlet.

Why Scarlet's a bad launchpad for male LGBT rep

I don't like Scarlet or how his sexuality has been handled. Scarlet's homosexuality wasn't revealed in the show, or by the writers, or even in anything that's actually canon. He's confirmed gay in his sole of dialogue in a non-canon fan anthology, where the manga's Twitter team had to say that Miles suggested the idea and approved of it.

In short, Scarlet is Dumbledore'd, where his sexuality is revealed in out-of-show material and in a way that doesn't make it supremely obvious (Miles himself never commented to confirm this so this news was limited in how far it could spread. I'm genuinely curious how many people still don't know Scarlet's gay), and Scarlet himself is a nothing character who was written out of the show after Volume 3 and only reappeared in Before The Dawn, half a decade after he vanished. Compared to Ilia, as this came out after Ilia's entire arc in Volume 5, it's not a great starting point for mlm rep. But things would have been forgiven if it had gotten better, if the show did have more male LGBT characters introduced, even just on the Saphron/Terra level of just being around for a few episodes before leaving. Then it would have been a misfire but then we could all say "Things got better."

It... didn't. Which is why when Before the Dawn released in 2020, a full two years after Scarlet was first confirmed gay, while the franchise had more than doubled its wlw rep, Scarlet remained the one male character in the entire franchise who had a name and liked men. I remember vividly a fake leak for After The Fall which claimed Yatsuhashi would come out to Velvet and admit to having a crush on Fox. And I remember as well how many people were disappointed when it was said to be false, because it would have been nice for Yatsuhashi's character, especially after the fleshing out he gets in the CFVY books. If Yatsu had come out as gay in the books I'd like his writing enough to say he's a good case for rep, albeit with the caveat of "This is all in side material." But in reality, the leak was fake and Coco was confirmed gay instead.

Unfortunately, Before the Dawn proceeded to ruin Scarlet and made me at times feel genuinely uncomfortable as a queer man! Let's talk about that.

Before The Dawn is crap and Scarlet's writing is borderline offensive

I hate Before the Dawn. It's... bad. I read it while on a vacation and the only solace I had about the entire thing was that I'd bought an M&M chocolate bar. The bar was finished before the book. That bummed me out. It's not a very well written book, the prose is very Early 2010s YA Writer, none of the characters are memorable and there's various Fun Incidents like "NGDO using children as bait for Grimm," and "Neptune's hydrophpobia being used as a threat to torture him and the scene is played for comedy."

Theo was cool. I can't wait to see him as written by good writers, he should be a highlight of the Vacuo arc.

I had two hopes for Before the Dawn- "Don't be bad," and "Let Scarlet and Sage be well written." I'd liked how After The Fall had handled some of its characters (barring, y'know, Coco perving on women), especially Fox and Yatsu who were surprising in how much I liked them. I was looking forward to seeing Myers give Sage and Scarlet similar treatment- two relatively nothing characters meant he'd have a blank slate to write them however he wanted, he could give them unique personalties and if nothing else it could be cool to see their Semblances.

And then I read the book. (Sage fans I am so sorry for you, you got baited harder than Johnlock fans)

Scarlet's a giant dickhead in the book. It's his sole character trait and his inner monologues go on, and on, and on about how much he hates Sun, how he revels in mocking him. Most of his dialogue is sarcastic put-downs about Sun and how lame he is, and Sun is never properly allowed to defend himself or point out how going with Blake meant he was able to help save Haven Academy.

(hey remember when Sun in Volume 6 expressly says to Blake "I was a bad leader for ditching Neptune and the others, and I need to work on that" only for Before the Dawn to have him staunchly refuse to accept that he let the team down? I don't think Myers did but I do)

Scarlet being a ratty bitch would be one thing if, again, the franchise had done more rep. He'd still be a badly written character, but it wouldn't sting as much. But because Scarlet is still the only expressly confirmed male LGBT character in canon (the book teases that Nolan is gay but there's never confirmation either way beyond him smiling at Scarlet), it means that he has to represent that entire ideal. So when the one gay man in Remnant is being an asshole and a snide loser, that means that by extension, this is how the franchise sees gay men. And that fucking sucks! I wanted to come out of Before The Dawn singing its praises, I wanted to like the book, but it was a massive letdown, especially coming off of the other big 2020 RWBY controversy involving gay characters.

Yeah. We're doing this.

Clover and Fair Game: Technically not queerbaiting. BUT:

Let's pre-empt this: Clover wasn't queerbaiting, and Fair Game, while cool and I dig it, kudos to them for becoming one of the top 5 RWBY pairings on AO3 in one year that's fucking impressive (I say with mild malice as an IronQrow main), never had a chance. The writing never seriously boosted it barring one interaction which was flirty (them talking in the lobby of the Schnee Manor), and everything else was out of show boosting through the social media teams and CRWBY hyping it themselves by saying they liked it. If you wanna blame people, blame the animators who went off-script with stuff like Kim Newman adding the wink as a deliberate nod to the Volume 4 waitress, or the social media team deliberately using the same policies for Fair Game as they do for Renora and Bumblebee.

It wasn't Eddy's fault that things escalated, and he himself has said that in retrospect, he should have warned people that this never had a shot.

But I can't blame the Fair Game fanbase. Because Fair Game took off like wildfire. It came right as the fanbase began seriously asking for more male rep, Qrow's pretty hot, and the Clover wink came right after the Great IronQrow Reawakening of November 9th, 2019. The rocket was primed, and they rode it to the moon. Finally, to these people, after seven years RWBY seemed to be doing something with mlm rep in show. People started getting into RWBY just for Clover and Qrow's interactions. And if heroes were boring, Watts and Tyrian also had a fantastic dynamic that made Nuts and Volts one of the more popular villain ships overnight. Things seemed to be turning around! RWBY was remembering that gay men existed! You could hear the choir sing!

... And for those people, that meant that episode 12 hit like Truck-Kun.

People got pissed. People were horrified. And it didn't help that some members of CRWBY had said in the build-up that episode 12 would have some shots that made them nauseous (probably the Tyrian thumb thing) Out of context, it looked to these fans like CRWBY were basically laughing at their suffering, like they were saying "Lol, you thought you had a chance, get fucked, I hope your vomit burns on the way up."

Yeah, Fair Game was never gonna be canon, and I think some people ran too far with it. But in the wider context of how desperate RWBY's mlm community had gotten for basic crumbs of content? I can see why they'd run with what they had. The writers aren't at fault for what happened, but CRWBY didn't help matters. And that desperate mix of what felt like official backing from the crew, jokes about how cute the ship was, and the hope that finally the show would have onscreen rep? I can see why people ran with it.

So why is the show more lackluster in depicting mlm characters?

Money. Let's be honest, most RWBY fans don't care if the show doesn't have good male rep. I'm willing to bet some of you reading this won't care and just dismiss it as not being that big a problem. I don't think the writers care if the show doesn't have good mlm rep because they're not poaching that market. They're after what they see as a bigger, more lucrative market, which in this case is female LGBT rep. That gets people buying games, watching shows, raising awareness and boosting awareness of your property, which means you make more money. In short: Two women kissing hits more markets and generates more attention than two men.

Am I saying that Miles, Monty and Kerry deliberately sat down seven years ago and said "We're not doing gay men because it won't generate enough ad revenue and traffic to be worth the loss in revenue from homophobes?" No, that's silly. But I'm saying that it's less important for them, and it shows in the things that are small and add up. Things like Miles not verifying Scarlet's sexuality or retweeting the manga account's confirmation to spread the message (compared to how he enthusiastically confirmed Ilia being a lesbian himself during the Reddit AMA). It shows in how Pilot Boi would have been the first mlm character only to die in his second full episode until M&K were told about the Bury Your Gays trope. It shows in how Shannon believes that Ozma is "megaqueer" and Miles jokingly laughs it off instead of confirming it, leaving it to just be Shannon's headcanon. It shows in how actor shipping is compared between the mlm and wlw ships, where Arryn and Barbara's frequent pushes for Bumblebee are seen as "official confirmation that it's endgame" while Michael and Kerry saying they enjoy Seamonkeys is treated as "well it would be cute if they did it, but they're never going to."

I'm not gonna say anything like "CRWBY are gonna have Qrow end up with a woman like Robyn out of spite against the bad apples of the Fair Game crowd." I'm not gonna say that I don't think CRWBY cares about male representation in the series. It is, however, definitely a low priority for them, and because that leads to gaffes like Scarlet's writing in Before The Dawn being offensive in his depiction, it only makes the contrast between the sexes all the more painfully apparent.

I'm kinda tired of waiting for Rooster Teeth to show that they do care about mlm. I'm kinda tired of RWBY's male rep being written like it came from a 1993 time capsule where I have to enhance the screen to see a guy holding a sign of Sun's abs or be content with the only onscreen rep still being the plant bois in Volume 5. I'm tired of how often the crew dances around answering basic questions about sexuality (and age, and birthdays, and heights, and so on) by treating it as a spoiler question, as if just wanting to know what way people swing would ever be a spoiler. I'm just... tired of all this. When the best mlm rep in Rooster Teeth's history remains the two dads in Camp Camp who show up in a few episodes, that should say something really bad about your company and your biases (To say nothing of the recent Red vs Blue seasons and their blatant queerbaiting for Grif and Simmons and the whole can of worms that is Donut).

I'd like to not feel like I'm borderline unwelcome because I'd like to see two men in this show kiss, and that the sole thing that represents people like me in this show is some British twat who complains about sand.

I'd just like to feel like my sexuality isn't a joke to Rooster Teeth (or at the very least, be like Donut and have it be a funny one). But at this point after the last few years? I feel like a very uncomfortable punchline to them. And it just sucks.

#rwby #rwde #fair game #queerbaiting #rwby before the dawn #mlm #lgbt #rwby analysis #Rooster Teeth #clover ebi #scarlet david

[ren1327]

Sweater Weather ch.4

Kenji quickly took Ben by the hand and threw out a half assed excuse about needing to talk to Ben.

He pulled Ben outside and led him behind the house and into a small grove of trees.

“Kenji?” Ben asked.

“Stop. Stop talking now!” He demanded.

He stopped and whirled around to Ben, who lifted his arms on instinct to cover his face.

“No! I’m not gonna…fuck, fuck, fuck!” He yelled, grabbing his head.

“Kenji?”

“…I…How…” He looked at Ben and swallowed.

“Pinky?”

Ben paled and took a step back.

“No, no, no!” Kenji said softly, holding his hands up.

“You do remember.” Ben whispered.

“I…I tried to forget. We moved to California and…Ben…”

“Don’t. Don’t say something cause you’re guilty…”

“…Did you almost die?” Kenji asked.

“Dave had a back up for me. He gave it to me in his truck and…” Ben stomped his foot. “Why did you do that? Who are you? You tormented me for months and hurt me and humiliated me and now you’re some wholesome big brother and want to be with your family?!”

“Ben—”

“I was just trying to survive and make sure my mom was comfortable and happy and the stress of all that made her sicker and—”

“Wait, what?”

Ben was crying and scrubbed at his face.

“She was really sick, Kenji…And she wasn’t getting better to begin with…” He said softly. “I knew she was gonna die. Dave knew too and…We didn’t have enough money to go to Seattle. She wanted to see it one more time and she couldn’t. So we moved with Dave back to San Antonio and…it didn’t help. You hurting me didn’t help! Why were you so awful to me?!”

Kenji stared at Ben and in the snow, and he saw the small, slight fifteen year old Ben. With paler skin and so thin Kenji could break him. With eyes rimmed with dark circles and a little pink from crying. In worn down clothes and secondhand shoes. And an old backpack held together by terribly stitched close tears.

But still…when he himself was only fifteen.

He had fallen in love.

He always smelled like basic fabric softener. His grades were always the best. The teachers liked him and he was always so quiet and reserved.

Kenji had asked him for a pencil and Ben had lent him a cheap dollar store pencil with a worn down pink eraser in the shape of a happy face on the end.

And Kenji had fallen in love with those big expressive eyes of his. How pink his cheeks got when he was flustered.

Why did he pick on Ben so much?

He felt his cheeks heat and he realized…Ben was still so expressive and kind. Could he fall in love again?

“I…I don’t know.” He whispered, more to himself.

Ben sniffed and crossed his arms.

“So what now?”

“…Do you want to leave?”

“…Let’s just stick it out.” Ben said. “Get your money and just…”

“I’m still helping you with your shop.” Kenji said.

“What?” Ben asked. “No, don’t do this out of guilt—”

“You needed it.” Kenji said. “From guys like me.”

Ben stared at the taller man as he took a step closer.

“You needed a safe place away from me. And so do other kids. And maybe…Maybe I needed that place too.” He said. “To teach me to be…better.”

“Kenji…” Ben sighed. “Let’s just put it behind us. It’s exhausting thinking back on that day.”

“Ben…for what its worth…I’m so sorry. I swore from that day on I would never treat anyone like that again. And now Carmen..”

“…You swore?” Ben asked, looking skeptical.

“I did. I never want to see anyone cry like you did. Never.”

Ben sighed. “Okay. Come here and hug me.”

“What?”

“Carmen has been peeking through the blinds and if we want to sell this…”

Kenji huffed and shook his head before enveloping Ben in a tight hug. Ben wrapped his hands around the others neck, closing his eyes.

“By the way, your Dad is totally my type.” Ben whispered and Kenji sputtered, pulling away as Ben laughed.

  “Everything ok, boys?” Candy asked when they came back in.

“Yeah. Ben was just finky about his Christmas present.”

“Present?” Candy asked, turning to mix something in a pot.

“Uh, yeah…I uh, planned to get him…a…a…” He looked at Ben who frowned and shrugged.

“A dog!” Ben yelled, panicked.

“A dog?” Candy asked, turning. “Kenji, how sweet! You two are already becoming pet parents!”

“Y-Yeah.” Kenji said. “He didn’t want a pure bred. He wanted a rescue.”

“Oh, Ben.” Candy cooed. “How sweet. You two should have Owen take you to the city to see if anyone sparks your interest.”

“T-Today?” Kenji asked.

“Carmen has been wanting to go into town to get some comic books or something. I’ll give her some spending money.” She said. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, we can bond!” Kenji said nervously.

“…Son, you’re yelling an awful lot.” Candy said. “I’ll ring Owen, you go tell your sister she has twenty minutes to get ready.”

“Yeah, sure, come on Ben.” Kenji said, leading Ben into the hall.

When they were far enough, Kenji looked at Ben. “A dog?”

“I panicked and just blurted out something.” Ben whispered back.

“Do you even like dogs?”

“I love dogs! I’ve always wanted an emotional support animal and we can even have one for the shop.”

“…as your investor, I have to agree with this idea.” Kenji huffed. “Studies have shown dogs to help in emotional therapy and with stressed children and teens.”

He was about to go up the stairs when he noticed his sister waiting at the door dressed in a raincoat over a sweater and matching boots.

He chuckled and sighed. “Okay, lets go.”

  Carmen walked around happily as they shopped around the mall.

She had them stop every so often to take pictures together.

“I haven’t seen you take this many pictures since before I left.” Kenji said as they sat on a bench.

Carmen was moving her manga from her shopping bags into her backpack. She folded the plastic bags and put them in a pocket inside her backpack.

“I didn’t have any reason to. But since you’re here, I might as well take as many as I want. Who knows when I’ll see you again!” She said, but frowned. “Oh…I didn’t mean…”

“I get it.” Kenji said and touched her shoulder.

Ben walked up to them with a tray of lemonades and soft baked pretzels. “Hungry?”

Carmen nodded and accepted the food with a grin. “Kenji, you’re so lucky you have Ben!”

Kenji blushed and looked at Ben as he took a pretzel. “I know.”

“I need to get one more thing. Wait here?” She asked.

“Sure.” Kenji said and Ben sat next to him. “Thanks. She looks so happy.”

“Of course. I like Carmen. And your parents are cool too. You have a really great family.” Ben said. “Can I ask…”

DING!

Ben looked down to see Carmen had left her phone on the bench. He picked it up to see a message on facebook.

How sad is it your brother’s so hot and you’re not?

Ugh, even his boyfriend looks like a loser.

Queen Kon looks even fatter than before, lol.

Ben gasped and dropped the phone on Kenji’s lap.

Kenji picked it up and paled when he read the messages.

“Carmen…she’s still being bullied…” He whispered.

He looked at Ben.

“Tell me…”

“She’s gonna feel trapped and scared and try to fight off her negativity. But cyber bullying is a whole other ballgame. If you report them, they’ll just make new profiles.” Ben said softly. “And come at you harder. And you can try to talk to their parents, but most likely, seeing from what class and area they come from, they wont face too much punishment…”

“So what can she do?”

“She needs time for now.” Ben said. “Maybe after all this, we can talk to her about it.”

“Okay.” Kenji said, deleting the messages and blocking them.

  Owen opted to wait in the indoor car park with their coats while they went into the shelter, Carmen excitedly looking at the toys and leashes.

“Right this way, please.” A tired looking man said softly, leading them to the back.

The smell of kibble and wet fur hit Ben first, then the loud sound of the dogs barking.

He looked around at the dogs.

There were so many and it was so loud—

Kenji took Ben’s hand and looked down at him.

“You good?”

“Um, yeah.” He said, noticing Carmen staring at them.

“Guys, look!” She suddenly said and walked up to a pen labeled “Bumpy”.

Inside was a terrier mix with a short crooked looking ear and matted fur.

“Poor thing…” Ben whispered.

“Just got her a bit ago. Not a lot of people want her because of the ear. It makes her waddle since her hearing is a little off.” The employee said. “But she’s really energetic and great with kids. And she’s been here two months.”

He looked at them.

“And two and a half is our limit before we send them to the other shelter.”

“We’ll take her.” Ben said quickly and Carmen cooed as the pup lifted her head.

“Hey, Carm, go pick a few things for her?”

“I’ll throw in some of the food she’s use to.” The employee said as Carmen sped off.

He lifted Bumpy and held her to Ben. “We were going to get her to a groomer. But she never let anyone with scissors near her.”

“I know someone!” Kenji said. “Can we groom her here?”

“Sure.”

  Owen sighed as he finished clipping away the extra fur off Bumpy. 

She now looked like the mix of a jack russel terrier and a rottweiler, short and barrel chested with a curled tail and pointed nose. She panted happily, freshly bathed and wearing a mint green leather collar with a spotted bow where the matching leash clipped. Kenji had made her tags and put the lighthouse as her place of residence, along with a bone shaped name tag with her name engraved on it.

“The vet checked her last week, so she’s good to go. She’s housebroken and good in public places, but I wouldn’t keep her out all day. Once you get home, just let her run around and get familiar with her surroundings for a good thirty six hours.” He said. “Thank you for giving her a home. I think you’ll make each other really happy.”

Carmen was taking pictures with Bumpy, sending them to her parents before she went to pick more toys for her seasonal housemate.

“Yeah.” Ben said as Carmen found a doggie raincoat and boot set that looked similar to hers. “Thank you.”

#jw fanfic #jw sweater weather #jw benji #ben pincus #kenji kon #kenji and ben #kenji x ben #finally #bumpy is here #camp cretaceous fanfic #camp cretaceous sweater weather

[ghostmartyr]

So if you, like me, have nothing to do but wonder about the state of my inbox, you might rightfully be wondering how I plan to deal with the obscene backlog I have spent so many years failing to deal with.

If you have never wondered that, fear not, that doesn’t exclude you from finding out.

Today we’re just going to go through my entire slew of unanswered asks, and instead of answering them, I am going to provide excuses for why I didn’t do anything with them.

For added fun, several of the asks were in my Drafts.

I will not be cutting out the comments I started to make.

I will no doubt regret this.

Let’s have a time, shall we?

I don’t even know what year this is from. If I remember correctly, I didn’t get back to you because I thought about trying to reason out who would legitimately win, and there were too many points for both sides. I kept intending to come up with a proper answer, then time went by and this got buried.

Though the actual answer is probably “it depends on who gets the main character sticker at the time.”

...

..

.

Well.

I can tell you this is multiple years old.

We, as humans, aren’t equipped for time travel.

I didn’t answer this one because I didn’t feel like it was asking for one, and I’m only reproducing it here because it is really, really funny now.

Two years old. Plus change.

I think the entire reason I never replied to this one is that it cheered me up whenever I scrolled down enough to see it, so thank you.

You know, I entered the link at the time. Really, I did. But then came trying to come up with a comment and what can you really follow that with?

(Click the link.)

Okay then.

I still feel no need to respond to this, so that’s probably why I didn’t to start with.

Historia and literally anyone.

I don’t remember why I didn’t answer this, which usually means some combination of feeling tired and not being in the mood to scroll down to where it was.

Oops.

The thing is, this crosses dangerously close to being a fic idea. Fic ideas take time and effort. You can imagine the absolute dread I felt at having to engage with either concept.

It would have been a lot of fun to do, though. Hats off.

See, again. This is a very interesting concept that requires thought. I can tell you when I received it I was in no mood for anything that required anything of the sort.

I wrote a fic that is possibly never going to see the light of day now where they hang out in a kitchen with hot chocolate together and bond through unstated trauma and Frieda attempting to make things better.

That probably contributed to interfering with imagining how they would actually get along.

Anyway, I ship them slightly in that fic AU. Don’t @ me.

Oh dang. I remember this.

I actually really wanted to answer it, but the problem is that I wanted to come up with a good answer. Every character, tiered by their chances. A full Hunger Games edition of what went down and who killed who.

Then I didn’t.

Anyway, turns out the answer is that no one feels the need to chop of rocking chairs in a hurry, so she’d last a long time!

I didn’t answer this because I try to avoid responding with, “I don’t know.” My secondary answer would probably have been, “By being killed.”

Not that there’s anything wrong with those answers, but unless there’s been a tonal trend in asks, I assume that pithy answers that don’t actually have any meat behind them would not be appreciated.

I would stick to him probably being killed, though. But some signs do point to him being relatively immortal.

Hm.

Hmm.

I don’t know why I didn’t answer this, but I would guess it had something to do with me caring very little about Ymir’s thoughts on anything outside of her little clutch of people. And ongoing trauma of repeated dead/alive Ymir commentary killing off my desire to come up with a good answer.

Sorry?

I... have no idea why I didn’t answer this? Maybe I didn’t see it?

Anyway, yes.

There’s a longer version behind that yes, and I’m sure that might have contributed to never getting around to answering this. ...Assuming a past where I did actually see this one.

I have a confession.

I don’t really like crossovers.

There’s a sliding scale of degree, but that’s basically why this didn’t get a response.

Ah, we’ve landed on a recurring theme.

Sometimes, answers involve me thinking about the entire cast.

The usual consequence of that is I don’t have the energy for that, so nothing ever happens with these.

Oh, this one’s easy.

I had no fucking clue.

No ideas, head empty.

That didn’t seem like a good answer, so here we are, probably around a year later. I still have no clue. If I were forced to write a singing duo AU, I would probably just put some adjectives and nouns into a blender and flip a coin.

Names are hard.

I think I didn’t answer this one because I felt like I’d answered similar asks before. And I’m not really sure when this is from, but it’s possible canon complicated coming up with an answer that wasn’t distressed screeching.

Something something give Connie and Mikasa hugs, not partial about where they get them from.

Apparently not. Oops.

I can’t remember why I didn’t respond to this one. It’s possible the oodles of bad parenting proved too distracting to formulate such a post.

Sometimes I get an ask, and my immediate, gut reaction is, how the fuck should I know?

If I can move past that, the ask is answered.

If I can’t, the ask continues its descent through scroll hell.

I am sorry. There are no answers here.

Yeah, this is just the same as the above, just with I have no idea.

It’d probably be a Madoka Magic deal.

Huh. I don’t remember passing this one over. If I were to guess a timeline, I was probably too bitter over potential post-timeskip looks that I never got to be interested in focusing on the characters lucky enough to get good ones.

Go Connie for being less short, I suppose.

This clearly belonged to something that I was doing, but time has eroded the context, so I am simply left with failure and disappointment on all sides. Sorry.

Aw, we’re getting into the boring part of the inbox now, I think. Not because of the questions; you guys are always great. But I can’t think of a reason why I wouldn’t have answered this, which leads me to think that the reason was I was too tired to put words together.

That’s a boring reason, so maybe I should go into Drafts for the next few...

Yeah, still unfairly prejudiced against crossovers. I am no fun, etc. etc.

I have no memory of it, but I feel like I didn’t answer this because there was no way I could match this kindly anon’s enthusiasm.

You go, random internet person.

You have good ideas.

Oh no.

Uh.

See.

I know exactly why I didn’t answer this one.

I am so sorry, Anon.

I really didn’t care.

I am filled with affection for you because you clearly do, but uh.

...I basically put this on Read.

This has a very simple, ie boring, explanation. Any time someone asks about the cast as a whole, I want to think about the cast as a whole, and that takes a lot more thought than most of the asks I get. Cue putting it off. Cue it getting lost in scroll hell. On and on we go until we end up here.

Anything that opens with kilometers is something that requires more brain power than I have had in the past year.

Also I think I got this during a spoiler week, so I saw it, but I was trying not to look at it, and then it got lost in the post-chapter asks.

That happens a lot.

We might see it more soon.

If I can’t come up with words more than “-shrug-” I try not to answer.

...Good news, though!

The manga did my job for me!

I feel like I answered some variation of this. That might be why I didn’t answer this specific one.

The wiki does a better job keeping track of the timeline than I ever have. I probably didn’t answer this because it would involve trying to remember which volume actually name-dropped a number of weeks or months. Searching for lines I know a character said is pretty easy, but searching out lines I have a vague feeling of someone providing? That tends to hit the frustration button with the force of a truck.

But yeah, if you ever want to know how long something took, the wiki is absolutely your friend. They do good work.

Consider: “What if” questions are hard, and I am lazy.

This is actually one I really did mean to get to, sorry. It’s an interesting thought, and I miss Sasha.

...I clearly did a magnificent job answering your asks, friend.

Prediction asks are hard for me; I feel like I’m throwing darts randomly into the air and the dartboard is still deciding if it’s going to show up. So uh. I guess I just kept putting this off until it didn’t get answered.

This post is going to have so many apologies. Implied and otherwise.

I continue to be the No Fun Police who accidentally-on-purpose avoids crossover commentary.

I feel like I didn’t answer this one entirely because seeing it in my inbox gave me far too much joy to have it lost in a sea of posts.

This is what my inbox was made for.

I have no idea when this was from, but I see your emotions and appreciate them, Anon.

...Did I not see this one?

Hey, Anon who probably doesn’t remember sending this: This is a good ask and deserved some good attention, and I’m sorry I missed my shot at it. Good thoughts.

I didn’t answer this one entirely because I knew I couldn’t match the energy of it, and responding with anything less felt heretical.

That is one hell of a mood, Anon.

This is definitely from the era of, “Can’t think, brain empty.” Sorry about not getting back to you, I just really couldn’t organize my thoughts well enough to come up with an answer.

I feel like I didn’t know what this was continuing from and was too exhausted to ask.

LOOK YOU CAN SEE I WANTED TO ANSWER THIS BECAUSE IT’S A DRAFT.

Too many things, Anon.

I liked so many things about all of that. Trying to turn that enthusiasm into words wasn’t agreeing with me, so I put it in Drafts and told myself one day I’d do the most awesome post detailing everything.

Intentions, huh?

Every time I tried to take a normal screenshot with formatting Tumblr just laughed at me, so that might have been a contributing factor.

Dang, I’m really sorry. This is another one of those cases where I wanted to take my time with a response, and I took too long.

I, uh.

Am guilty of not being too interested in pondering Ymir’s thoughts on Levi or Erwin.

That’s it, that’s the explanation.

Yeah, I just couldn’t come up with an answer here? Or someone else asked? Or several of my friends decided to be annoying about lists on Discord? I don’t even know.

Presumably there could be a list.

There is not.

Honestly, I just couldn’t figure out how to follow that starting sentence up. A thought exercise on Armin, Historia, gender, and themes sounded really interesting, and I put it in Drafts so as not to forget it being interesting.

Then, you know. This post sort of paints the picture.

Ah.

Man, I really was looking forward to putting some proper thought into this. That’s the problem with having so many things I love in one place, I guess. Symbolism? Historia and Ymir? Mikasa? So many good things! Where do I start!

With paralyzing indecision that results in not a lot. Sorry, Anon. This really did light up my day when I got it.

Here’s the thing about me and writing:

I often fail to.

(I love both these ideas, though.)

Yes.

Do I know why I didn’t get around to answering this?

Absolutely not.

But yes, I’d agree with that.

GOOD NEWS!

The manga actually gave us some of them together in the future.

I occasionally giggled over their shared distaste.

It was a good time.

And this is another one I just do not know why I didn’t answer, whoops.

This never got answered because I couldn’t come up with an answer.

Broad questions are scary because they can go just about anywhere and I didn’t know how to handle that level of commitment.

I think I didn’t answer this one, A), because words are hard, and B), because mostly I just wanted to listen to more of your wondering and less of mine.

I probably could have answered this by saying I don’t have any, but that seemed rude, so I didn’t respond to it at all.

Yep.

Frieda is worthy of my time and effort.

Landing this in Drafts instead of my inbox.

Where the lighting makes it more obvious that hope has gone there to die.

I think about it so much too.

I find the answers fundamentally upsetting.

That is probably why I did not provide an answer here.

That is a lot of kids to make up headcanons for.

So I didn’t.

She’s eaten by dogs before she develops a personality.

Since that seemed like the wrong thing to say, I said nothing, and into Drafts this went.

‘I have no earthly clue’ seemed similarly unhelpful.

At this point, we understand that there is no mystery to my backlog.

This one hurts.

-sees the 112 reference-

Wow does it hurt.

As I hope is obvious, I really, really loved this question, and kept meaning to carve out time to work on it specifically. What went sideways was trying to put words to how EMA functions. I knew the feel of what I wanted to express, but every time I tried to write it, it came out wonky.

I’m very sorry I couldn’t do anything for this, because I was thrilled to spend time with it.

I didn’t answer this because Fuck Marley.

It’s nothing against you. At the time, I simply wasn’t in any mood to consider any version of Marley. Even the canon version was too much for me, so giving it my time in a roleswap AU had me hissing.

Roleswaps in general are amazing, and I love them a lot. A dedicated person could make a fantastic one based around Marley and Paradis. I think it would probably be cool af.

But I was so tired of Marley when I got this, I just couldn’t make myself think about it. Sorry. It’s a fun idea.

I didn’t answer this one because I kept trying to extend my response past, “I think he just really likes baseball.”

I think he just really likes baseball.

My feelings on that as a quality answer are derogatory.

Mm. The ones where I actually tried to get something started hurts.

Ultimately, this ask was a larger demand than I could make my brain work through at the time. I made sure to write down the tl;dr version of Sasha’s, because I found that desperately important, and not something that people talk about much, but the additional weight of trying to think of themes for multiple characters made it hard to progress.

Me, looking at the prompts: Hi my brain left me.

Sorry, Anon. Too many gears were moving for me to get a proper feel for what I wanted to do with this one, so I ended up ditching it. ...I was planning to finish it, though. Eventually. See, I even put the quote in the Draft version as a reminder of what I was doing, so I could get back to it right away.

Yeeeeah, this is just one more to the “I will give this wonderful thing all the time it deserves!” pile.

The pile is stored in the Failure Corner.

Perfectionism is the enemy of progress.

You guys really like crossovers.

I love that for you.

-spends two years ignoring you-

I mean, I just didn’t know what to do with the rainbows.

They sure are there.

They sure are pretty.

I sure couldn’t come up with a comment to add.

...I don’t know why I didn’t answer this. Possibly because I think it’s fine? I’m not too attached to it, and spent the whole manga period wanting to watch an anime version instead, then we got an anime version.

I’d guess that my general “meh” feelings interfered with responding here.

No idea why I didn’t answer this.

Yes, and good for you.

I support all thoughts on giving the Reiss kiddos personalities.

I think I didn’t get back to you on this because I wasn’t sure how to encourage you to keep going so I just sat awkwardly on my hands and felt weird about not saying anything.

...Thanks for sharing!

I love how it’s the little things that date these.

Unfortunately, we’re now at the point where 90% of the reason I didn’t answer was because I was too sick to muster up anything approaching enthusiasm.

Or because I’d just finished answering a bunch of chapter-specific things and was burnt out.

This felt pretty self-explanatory to me, so I felt like that gave me permission to ignore it.

Also, it mentions Marley.

I might be slightly petty.

Really though, I think what stopped me from giving a proper answer is that the question of what an author is trying to say throws me off a little. I work better thinking of it in terms of what the story is saying, with the author just happening to be the hands that wrote it all down.

I don’t know. This was probably another case of feeling like I should give this more of my time than I was able.

I couldn’t decide.

That’s it.

That’s the reason.

Everyone needs to give Mikasa a hug.

My blog title for a hug.

-the crossover snake hisses and consumes another-

I am so sorry.

This is fun.

I probably should have just gone with posting and saying so, because I am genuinely charmed by this. I tend to feel like I have to add something to asks to justify the post. That policy maybe didn’t need to be a thing.

I love my anons.

I want that to be clear.

Really, I do.

I especially love their willingness to embrace my crackpot logic.

Still.

Sometimes, the only response one can have to Schrodinger’s Ymir is to ignore its existence, find a pillow, and scream into it for the rest of time.

This replaces typing.

-looks at Armin-

-looks at Eren-

Yeah, don’t know why I didn’t answer this one, either. I blame tiredness? Sorry about that.

I feel like I didn’t answer this one because it felt like work.

This is where I start considering that making this post was a mistake.

I could have just agreed with you and gone about my day.

Probably should have.

Did not.

Another one for that, “had nothing to add so I just left it in a corner, abandoned and unloved,” pile.

There is an apology section at the end, but we’re not there yet.

This one I don’t think I noticed.

Alternatively, I did notice, and wasn’t sure “Yes,” would pass as a good enough answer.

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

Okay, time to really just get into it: I think for the remainder of my inbox, I didn’t answer because physically, I was just too damn exhausted, and I kept waiting for a point in time where I’d feel better. Sorry to put a limit on the personalization, but in the end, that’s all there was to it, and rephrasing it a dozen times will make me crazy.

And here we are.

Well.

Good grief, do you guys even have any clue how much I like all of you?

Obviously there’s a lot of guilt in the above, because I can’t tell you how much I wanted, each time, to give a great answer that would make you thrilled you messaged me. I am so sorry to all of these I didn’t get to. There were days when the alerts in my inbox were the best thing to happen to me, and I never wanted to let any of them go without acknowledgment.

I try to say thank you as often as I can in my responses, because that’s as close as I can get to reminding you all, constantly, that I am grateful for your participation. The only times I don’t say it is when I worry that it’ll look like it’s being done out of habit, not genuine gratitude. Or when I think you might take it the wrong way if I say thanks for a basic conversation. Because you provide me content and make me interested in things I might not normally look twice at.

There are so many instances of people saying hi, and thank you, and wishing everyone well here.

I haven’t been active in the larger fandom in two years, but I have always been so happy that you guys kept dropping by my space anyway.

You are a pleasure and light in my life, no matter how much snark I might throw about.

Thank you all.

#attack on asks #tl;dr #long post

[heartofsnark]

This is Love (Chapter Eight): Whispers of Wolves

Notes: Heyo, since A) I took a break and B) it’s friday the thirteenth, as it was when I posted the first chapter of this is love back in January, I decided to go ahead and post chapter 8 today. Chapter 9 is already done and I’ll be beginning work on chapter 10 soon, as this is my current hyper fixation. I hope you all enjoy. 

Word Count: 8671

Chapter Warnings: Oh boy we got some shit today my dudes! Stories/Reference of Past Child Abuse, Animal Death In the Context of Hunting, Homphobic Slurs/Homphobia towards lesbians, and referenced past anti-Semitism. Less important but there’s a pov change and like three different quotes in this chapter, from the Book of Joseph, and two different songs, which is probably a lot but I ain’t editing this shit anymore

For chapter one and the warnings about this fic’s overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here

Pain cracks through Joseph’s skull late that night, shooting across from each temple, seeming to split his head apart. He sits on the edge of his small bed, a modest bedroom in the back of his church. He knows what it means, he’s grown accustomed to the sharp ringing pain, visions always come with it. They’ve started to come more frequently since The Lamb arrived.

He grabs at his head, as if he could press hard enough to keep his skull together as pain racks him, an instinctual reaction. Pain strikes through and breaks the reality of the world around him, closed eyes starting to see visions of what could be, images of what may await him.

A world anew surrounds him; one changed by the Collapse and washed of sins. Lush and natural, even more beautiful than the world that came before it. Vibrant pink flowers decorate the earth, thick green moss covering trees. A soft pink flowered apple tree stands at the center of the compound, white buildings replaced with hand made little houses.

Men and women are all around, working around New Eden. Parents playing with their children, carrying their babies; loyal followers allowed to pass through the gates and grow their family. Some members bring back hunted animals to be prepared for meals and others tending to gardens.

And then he sees his brothers and sister.

A fact that changes time and time again as his visions come to him in waves. He’s seen New Eden with and without them. He’s seen each of his siblings die time and time again, old and young, premonitions of what will be or what could be.

In this version, this vision, he’s been allowed his siblings. Faith, Jacob, and John talk at a distance where Joseph can’t quite hear the words, only taken in the moment. Jacob and John’s ages showing more clearly in the gray just starting to pepper their hair.

A voice rises above all others, cutting through the mumbled conversation through the compound, and Joseph knows it’s calling towards him. The soft voice calls him a name similar in meaning to his title, but it cuts to his heart so differently.

“Papa!”

Through the eyes of his older self, he can only watch and take in what happens, no control as he turns to see the source.  A young boy of about five comes running towards Joseph, bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. Joseph’s body moves of it’s own volition reaching out to hug his son, his son, but before he can feel the embrace of his child the world cracks apart again.

Pain splinters through the world and rips him from the moment, when he opens his eyes again he’s back in his room. And his hands itch to hold his son who’s yet to exist, instead he rubs at his temples, fingers knotting in his own hair as he attempts to soothe the agony within his own head. The only respite being what he hopes is a new promise from his creator. A chance for his family to not only walk with him to New Eden, but the chance to expand it.

He’ll have a son. The very idea soothes his pain and is like a salve to frayed nerves. Becoming an internal mantra as he eases himself back to sleep that night.

 Sweat coats Dahlia’s skin as she does another push up, her muscles aching at the workout. She shifts to lay on her back on the living room floor, t-shirt riding up her sweaty stomach. Her second day of no work has turned into an impromptu work out, push up and using doorways for chin-ups. She uses her shirt to wipe sweat off her forehead before grabbing her phone to check the time. Dahlia must have gotten her way through the day, it has to be late by now.

“Fucking hell.”

It’s noon, it’s only fucking noon.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” She screams into a pillow, how the fuck is it only noon? Dahlia looks at the mess of her coffee table, trying to consider what to do just to eat at her time, she could draw again. But her hand is still cramping. She read somewhere you’re suppose to do warm up for drawing, she’ll have to start doing that.

Then she sees the Book of Joseph, her drawing still sticking out of it. She’s burned through her backlog of manga on her phone and fuck, it’s something to do. Joseph seemed like a genuinely sweet man, maybe he has something interesting to say.  Music still blasting, because everything in her life requires a soundtrack, she opens the book.

 “Bless the name of those who have dealt you blows.

Be grateful to those who have caused you harm.

For it is these sufferings that have led you to me.”

 The first sermon in the book, she chews her lip, it’s not that much different from things Joseph told her yesterday, that he’s thankful her past led her to him. But, something rubs her wrong about the idea of being grateful for her abuse. Not for her, she plans on dying mad about it. She reads onward, an illustration of a flaming capital building surrounded by waves with someone drowning in the foreground. That’s…dramatic.

“If a person had been walking down the poorly maintained road out front of the Seed’s house on that afternoon in June and felt the strange urge to glance over, they would have witnessed a bizarre sight.

They would have seen a man dress in black pants and a white undershirt, frothing with anger, brandishing a comic book in one hand and a bible in the other at his son, a child of about ten. But no one had been down this in the poor suburb of Rome, Georgia, in a long time. Not ice cream trucks, not social service cars, not even police patrols.”

Dahlia stops almost three pages in as Joseph begins to write about a dying widow who once gave him and Jacob cakes before she grew sick. The picture he’s painted is far too clear and hits too close to home for her to continue, at least for the moment. A belligerent bible thumping drunk of a father who derided Joseph for loving Spiderman comics and beat Jacob’s back for the younger brother’s supposed misgivings.

Father Monroe, her stepfather, wasn’t quite the ruddy faced sloppy drunk that Old Man Seed was. But when Joseph describes Jacob offering his back up for a beating, she nearly feels the bite of leather against her own. Stripes for the backs of fools, is all she hears.

She wants to talk to Joseph, she realizes, thinking of both the beginning sermon passage and how their own pasts match up. Does he really bless the man who hurt him? Is he grateful for Old Man Seed? Maybe that kind of forgiveness and peace with it comes with age or is it just him? Ruth has a similar story as well, a little older than Dahlia, and she holds on to the same anger Dahlia does. Has Joseph managed to let it go? Does he still like Spiderman? Did his father beat the passion for comic books out of him or does he still enjoy them? Its hard to imagine, the intense Joseph Seed casually reading a comic book.

Less than three pages is a pathetic excuse for reading and didn’t pass much time, but it’s intense for her. So, she’d rather just…stare at the wall for a bit until she’s ready to tackle it again.

It’s Saturday night, Pratt and Hudson won’t be going to The Spread Eagle tonight, because no work. Meaning a rather mundane day with no interruptions. Other than a short walk, Dahlia spends the rest of it fucking around on her phone and watching shitty tv; passing out after downing an unevenly heated microwave meal.

Sunday morning rolls around, spent much like the last, Dahlia using her down time and excess energy to work out. It’s important to stay on top of exercising and staying in shape, given her profession, she makes a mental note to order some weights online. There’s not really a proper gym in the county and she doesn’t want to lose muscle.

She’s in the middle of another round of pushups when there’s a knock at her door; she jumps up from her position, skin still slick with sweat as she rushes towards the door. Finally, something to disrupt the monotony.

It’s Pratt standing on her porch, hazel eyes looking her over. She’s expecting a shitty comment on her appearance, dressed in shorts and a baggy shirt, hair mussed with sweat.

“You need something?” She asks him, slightly out of breath. Dahlia lifts the bottom of her shirt, using it to wipe sweat from her face, breeze skimming the bare skin of her stomach.

“What the hell has you sweating, Rook?” The older deputy chews his lip, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

“I was working out.”

“With a head injury? Seriously?”

“The fuck else am I suppose to do?”

“Figured you’d be bored out of your mind, reason I’m here,” he grins, “throw some clothes on and we can head out.”

“You mind if I shower first?” She asks, while she’s not sure where he plans on dragging her but she’d rather not stink like sweat while she’s there.

“Uh, yeah, sure that’s fine.”

“You wanna wait in here?”

He nods and Dahlia steps aside to let Pratt into her trailer, it’s not the most tidy of place because, well, she’s not the most tidy of people. She can feel the judgement starting to build up as Pratt looks around her messy living room. A pillow and blanket haphazardly on the couch; her duffle bag on the ground with clothes falling out of it. Her table has her sketchbook, thankfully closed, and the Book of Joseph is tucked under it. It’s a messy little nest, but it’s hers.

“Are you sleeping on your couch?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s just, I prefer it,” she explains with a shrug, not really sure how to elaborate on her weird feeling about sleeping in a bed.

“You have a bed, right?”

“Yes, I have a bed, I just, shut up. I don’t barge into your house and start judging how you live,” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “just sit down, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Dahlia grabs a change of clothes, hearing the couch springs creak as Pratt sits down. It’s weird seeing someone in her trailer. The closest she’s had to visitors have stayed on her porch. Pratt is the first person to be in her actual trailer, he looks immensely out of place and judging by his eyes glancing around, he seems to feel that way too. She tries not to think too hard about it, making a beeline to her bathroom.

She tries to keep her shower short, not wanting to make Pratt wait too long and not wanting him to snoop while he’s left alone. That doesn’t stop her from playing music as she showers, just limiting herself to two songs before she jumps out. A quick dry off and she tugs on her clothes, towel still on her damp hair as she walks back out to her living room.

Pratt, sure enough, has found something to snoop through. Dahlia grimaces at the sight of him picking through her little jewelry box of photos. Was he rifling through her dufflebag? She clears her throat, smirking when he jumps up.

“I was just-”

“Snooping,” she cuts him off, ruffling the towel over her hair.

“It fell out of your bag.”

“No it didn’t.”

“It did...after I kicked it a little, but it did fall out.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she snatches the little wooden box off the table, Lloyd and Caroline’s photo booklet was on top, so at least she probably avoided him seeing baby photos.

“You, uh, don’t look much like your parents. You adopted or something?”

She can’t help but chuckle as she puts it away; she can’t blame him for thinking Lloyd and Caroline must be her parents. The pair are both about Whitehorse’s age and why else would she have so many photos with a couple that age. But, the couple absolutely look nothing like her. Both fairer skinned and blue eyed; Lloyd with dark strawberry blonde hair and Caroline with light honey blonde locks. Short of some shenanigans the chance of them producing an olive skinned, brown eyed brunette is slim. And while the couple have their share of adopted children; Dahlia isn’t one of them.

“No.”

“Oh, uh…” She can nearly see the gears turning in Pratt’s head,  her usual one word style of answering has put Caroline’s devotion in question and Dahlia won’t have that.

“They’re not my parents; legally or biologically.”

“Oh, you just hang out with old couples?”

“Maybe, maybe not, ain’t really any of your business,” she shrugs, “more importantly, where the hell are we supposed to be going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t trust your surprises.”

“Would you rather sit here and twiddle your thumbs all day?”

“Fuck  no.”

“That’s what I thought, you ready to go then?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she throws the damp towel onto her laundry chair before shoving her feet into her boots, “lets get going.”

She locks up behind Pratt then follows him out to his car. Compared to the last time she was in his car, this is infinitely more relaxing. She hums along to the radio, resisting the urge to sing along. He probably already heard her yelling along to her music in the shower, she doesn’t need to blast his eardrums at close range. After one song ends and another shittier one begins she starts to fiddle with the radio setting.

“The driver is supposed to pick the music,” Pratt tells her as she flips through stations, trying to find a station playing something other than country.

“The driver needs to worry about the road, while I find something worth listening to.”

“Yeah, ‘cause your taste in music is so good.”

“I have excellent taste in music,” she turns to one station and it sounds like a choir.

Help me, Faith

Help me, Faith

Shield me from sorrow

From fear of tomorrow

“Turn that crap off, right now.”

“The hell is that?” It’s not a bad song like technically speaking, but it’s definitely a bit much.

“Peggie station, it's all crap, Eden’s Gate runs it. It’s all their choir music and sermons.”

“Gross, but the song ain’t that bad.”

“You might wanna have your head checked again.”

“Piss off.”

She finds something better, even if she doesn’t necessarily mind Eden’s Gate music, she’d rather listen to something without fear of a sermon coming up after. At the very least, Pratt doesn’t complain about her choice, a few more songs playing before they cross into Holland Valley.

“How’s your impromptu vacation been going?”

“Boring.”

“That’s what I thought,” he laughs, “figured you’d be going stir crazy by now.”

“So, you decided to come end my boredom?”

“No need to sound so excited,” Pratt rolls his eyes, not appreciating her lackluster response.

“Sorry, I, uh, do appreciate it,” she admits, looking out the windows, cheeks warming at it. It’s embarrassing to say that she is genuinely thankful. Hell she nearly jumped up and ran to the door like a dog when he knocked. Boredom is hell.

“Oh, it’s fine, I was bored too.”

They pull into the police station parking lot and she raises an eyebrow at him as he parks. He’s taken her to work? What on earth is he planning?

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re gonna enjoy this, c’mon.”

She follows him out and around the building to the helipad she noticed before, a black police grade helicopter on it.  He doesn’t hesitate to climb into the pilot's seat, telling her to get in. She listens, climbing into the seat next to him. It looks like a mess of buttons and controls to her, none of them making sense. But Pratt confidently starts turning switches, lights coming to life in front of her.  They’re going for a helicopter ride, holy shit.

“Pffft,” Pratt huffs out a laugh, “we’re not even in the air yet and you’re already grinning.”

“This is okay, right? Like, no one will mind.”

“I’m the only person at the station who can fly, so if they needed it, they’d be calling me anyway. Don’t worry.”

“I’m fine, I just wanted to know I can enjoy this guilt free.”

“And lift off,” Pratt says as he brings the chopper up off of the ground. The station grows smaller and smaller as they ascend up into the air.

“Wow…” Is all as can seem to say at first as the chopper kisses the sky.

They’re surrounded by a bright blue sky and puffy white clouds as Pratt flies across the county. Lush green forests and farms beneath them, mountains along the edges of the county. A top down view of animals running through, specks in their vision. She oohs and awes, unable to help acting like an excited child over the view. They fly along the county, Pratt is kind enough to answer her stupid questions about flying, what buttons and switches mean. She’s certain to a seasoned pilot her naïve question must be frustrating, but he grins with every answer. Before she knows it the sky around them has shifted to an awash of pinks and purples, the sun setting, before a midnight sky takes it place. Brilliant stars twinkling around them, feeling so close, like she could reach out and touch Andromeda.

Once it gets too late, Pratt lands back at the station, her cheeks ache from all the time smiling. He drives her back to the trailer park, the pair in comfortable silence as she hums along to the radio.  Her thoughts drifting off as they are so quick to do. Pratt and her butted heads a bit when they first met, but he’s quickly become her closest friend in the county. Their light-hearted bickering and shenanigans have become her favorite part of her days in Hope County.

He walks with her to her trailer, shoulders brushing occasionally as they move. She turns to look at him when they reach her door. Dahlia clenches and unclenches her hands searching for what she wants to say.

“Thanks, a lot, really.”

“You like flying that much?”

“Not just for that, not to be all mushy and crap, but coming out here, keeping me from going nuts, being my friend. It, uh, means a lot, seriously.”

“Eh,” he scratches at the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes, “just watching out for you, probie.”

“Well, I appreciate it, I, uh, know I’m not the easiest person to get along with.”

“No one in this county is.”

“Good to know I fit in, I guess.”

“Uhh, you’re getting there, once you start stinking like beer all day and have a house full of deer heads, we’ll call it good.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she grins, “night.”

“Night.” She waves Pratt off before going back to her trailer to settle in for the night.

Monday is spent showing up to the station just to play with Petunia behind the building; just laying on the ground while the fluffy opossum crawls on her. She scratches along the marsupial’s back as they nuzzle into her neck.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home relaxing or something?” Beau asks and Dahlia shifts her head back to look at him.

“I am relaxing, what are you doing?”

“Well, everyone asked me to go see what that weirdo deputy was doing, so here I am.”

“Oh no, you hear that Petunia,” she looks at her opossum friend, “people think I’m weird.”

“Yeah, talk to the ‘possum, that’ll really show ‘em.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he just rolls his eyes, leaving her alone for the moment. Pratt and Hudson invite her out to The Spread Eagle once the sun starts to set, but a steady throbbing ache has built in her head, she skipped pain meds. And the idea of the jukebox booming in her skull makes her turn it down for the night, once she’s back to work she’ll treat them to a meal there, she decides on the quiet ride home.

Dahlia wakes up the next day and decides to finally take that hike, wanting to explore some of the mountains and woods that surround the county. The brunt of the trails seem to be within the Whitetail Mountain area up north, the mountains in the Henbane are mostly around that statue and as much as she likes Joseph more than before; the statue is still creepy.

She tucks her sketchpad, pencils, water, and her pain meds in the storage under her motorcycle seat before she drives up to the mountains; the north section of the county is colder, a chill from the air as she rides up. She stops in at an Old Sun Outfitters, buying a little black backpack to carry her stuff in when she hikes.

The woods around her get thicker and thicker as rides further into the mountains, land growing steeper with every minute, civilization sparser and sparser; buildings harder to find, just peeks of wood or cement through trees. The trees clear on her right as a turn of the road leads her to a large parking lot with little hutch and a sign that says, ‘rest area’. The hutch says Valley View Overlook. It’s built at the top of a plateaued piece of land, not as towering as the mountains in the distance, but higher than the meager hills of the valley or river. She parks her motorcycle and packs the bag before taking in the view.

A small navel high fence, she imagines waist high for others, keep animals or children from just running off the side of the mountain. It’s a beautiful sight; she can see why the lot is named after it. She takes a deep breath of fresh mountain air looking out at the soft blue sky that meets the mountains in the horizon; the deep green forests further down. Air so clean and refreshing, but for some reason she finds herself pulling out a cigarette, to fill her lungs with smoke. Too much good needs a bad, she supposes. She watches the white clouds and birds flying through, as she lets smoke settle heavy in her lungs, only parting from the sight when her cigarette threatens to burn her fingers.

She follows along a little beaten trail through the woods, kicking up rocks and crushing grass underfoot as she lets the trees surround her. Grass rustles around where animals sneak through; deer running through, other hikers crossing her path, and hunters packing bucks back home with dogs sniffing along after them.

It doesn’t take long for her to go off the path, just walking in any direction that catches her interest. Deeper and deeper into the woods, following divots and drop offs, walking along the occasional stream of water that passes through the area.  Her feet and head start to ache as hours pass, the cool air no longer able to chill her body as exertion coats her skin in sweat.

A hunting stand, one of many, is within the woods. Gray metal built around a tree with a ladder leading up. It’s empty, but if a hunter really needs it, she’ll move along. She climbs up curling her legs under her on the stand as she pulls off her back pack and red flannel, the sleeves now sweaty after her walk. Dahlia ties it around her waist, feeling the cool air on her skin as she takes a deep breath.

She takes a deep swig of water and one of the pain killers. There’s a crush of grass and she looks up to see a group of deer a short distance from the stand. A fawn and what may be younger deer, with a buck among them. The buck’s fur grayer in color than the richer warmer brown of the others. Dahlia gets out her sketchpad and pencils, balancing them on her knee as she takes the drawing the creatures. A calm energy and flow falls over her as she draws, the only sound the animals rustling within the woods. She’s better at drawing people than animals, she realizes, when she can’t quite get the right slope of the buck’s muzzle, but she doesn’t stress herself over it. No one will ever see her wonky deer. She looks up; the buck has gotten much closer, shuffling near the stand.

Dahlia puts her sketchbook aside, half finished wonky deer abandoned, as she moves to lay on her belly over the edge of the hunter’s stand. She stretches her hand out, his antlers high enough for her fingers to just brush the velvety texture. But that’s not what she’s after, wanting to pet the stags head. Dahlia shifts to a knee and a foot, she forces the fingers of one hand into the grating to keep a solid grip on the stand. She leverages herself to lean further and further out, stretching a hand out and nearly hanging completely off the stand. Her fingers just centimeters away from touching the stag’s head.

The fuzz of fur brushes across her fingers and the soft brown eyes looking up at her go blank; blood spraying from the side of the buck’s head as it’s body goes limp to the ground. She can’t help but jump back and fall on her ass; gasping at the now dead deer in front of the stand, the rest of them have scattered at the sight.

Maybe she should have expected it, being in hunter territory, but the closeness of it still startles her. There’s a heavy thud of boots, steady consistent footfalls crushing branches and grass beneath them. Ginger hair with shaved down sides and an army jacket; Jacob Seed.

This is likely the only time she’ll ever be taller than him, watching him from the stand as he shifts a bright red rifle from his hands to on his back. It seems so vivid and ostentatious compared to his utilitarian style of dress.  There’s a childish urge to jump on his back and scare him. But, they don’t know each other well and he’s a veteran, so she can’t know how he’d react to the sort of thing. Maybe a boo would be okay, just something small?

“You enjoying the show, honey?”

Dahlia jolts, taken aback by the sudden acknowledgment. She tucks a strand of hair back behind her ear and chews her lip watching as he starts to gather up the slain deer; then he looks up at her, blue eyes sharp and harsh. All the masculine Seeds have blue eyes and intense stares; but Jacob’s gaze is colder than Joseph’s and more steady than John’s. Something almost predatory to it. 

“I was drawing him,” she says after a moment, looking down at the stag. 

“And I was hunting him.” 

“Still would have appreciated another minute or two,” she says as she grabs her bag, throwing the sketchbook back inside before she jumps off the stand. 

“So, you could flail around and try to pet him for another five minutes.” 

“Hey,” she pouts, she was caught hanging from a hunting stand like the child she is, but, “wait, you saw me?”

He gives a vague grumble of agreeance, more preoccupied with tying up the hooves of his latest hunt to make it easier to carry. 

“And you still shot? You could have shot my hand off.” Has this man never taken a gun safety course, she catches a glimpse of the scope on his rifle, there’s no way he didn’t see how close his shot was to her hand. He chuckles, dry and deep, mocking her. 

“Relax, if I wanted to shoot you, you’d be dead by now.” 

“Wow, that’s not comforting.” 

“Wasn’t trying to be,” he says, standing up and packing the giant deer over his shoulder, like it’s nothing.  

Dahlia reaches out to touch it, fingers brushing through soft fur, no warmth beneath it. She might as well be petting a rug. Jacob starts to walk off and she doesn’t know why, but she follows him. Hands clasped behind her back and walking heel to toe after him. Maybe it’s just because she’s curious about him. He’s the only one of the Seeds not to take a strange interest in her for whatever reason. 

He doesn’t say anything at first, allowing her to follow along after him. Leaves and grass crush under foot as she follows along behind him, curious as to where he’s going or doing. She’s not sure what she expects, but it’s something to do if nothing else. 

“You got somewhere to be?” 

“Not really, no.” She tries to crane her head around, trying to get a better look at his face to gauge his reaction, but their height difference is too big to truly do so. The man has to be around a foot and a half taller than her; he seems even taller than the sheriff.

“Well, I do, so get out of here.” Her smirk drops, she was hoping to see him get more agitated like the youngest Seed brother, but his voice doesn’t rise. Staying the same steady deep timbre.

“Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere you need to be, sweetheart.”

“The nicknames aren’t really necessary.” She can’t help but say, wrinkling her nose in annoyance, the condescending way he calls her sweetheart and honey make her nauseous.

 “Neither is following me like a lost puppy dog; but here you are.” 

“I’m bored.”

“Not my problem.”

“You killed my only entertainment, so it is now.”

He comes to a sudden stop and Dahlia has to stop herself from running into his back; she doesn’t particularly want deer corpse on her face. He turns to face her; expression still the same stern look he usually carries, and she misses his grin when he was talking to kids at the barbecue.

“Look here, deputy, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and irritating me isn’t a habit you want to form. Get out of here.”

“Oh no,” she rolls her eyes, “I’m really scared.”

“Keep pushing, sweetheart, won’t get you anywhere.”

“God, you’re no fun.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“Jacob is something wrong,” a voice cuts through their conversation, rough and masculine. And Dahlia see the long-haired man and short haired girl from the barbecue; the ones who shot her dirty looks when she talked back to Jacob.

“Nothing you need to concern yourselves with.”

“What are you doing here?” The woman asks Dahlia directly.

“Standing.”

“Fallon,” Jacob says the woman’s name, stern tone making her posture snap straighter, “I said it’s none of your concern. Let’s go.”

The three of them start to leave down a path; Fallon and the long-haired man have heavy bucks they pack as well. A hunting trip for Jacob and his…friends? Are they friends? That didn’t seem like friendship, but Dahlia is far from an expert on the matter. She offers a goodbye wave; but Fallon just rolls her eyes. Their steady footfalls leaving the deputy behind.

Well, it staved off the boredom for a while she supposes.

Dahlia lets out a huffy sigh, blowing loose strands of hair from her face as she begins back down the path she came. The sun is setting by the time she’s back to the parking lot and climbing on top of her bike.

Her stomach is growling by the time she’s driving down a main road, she sees the sign for The Grill Steak as she reaches the intersection. Dahlia pulls in, letting her stomach guide her actions, as she’s one to do.

It’s a small restaurant packed with groups of people from friends to families; she can feel the heat of the grill radiating through, the smell of her making her stomach growl. She settles into a booth by herself, when she reads through it the menu is full of gamey meat burgers and steaks. No signs of beef or pork; it’s all bison and deer. She wonders if the cook hunts everything himself, it wouldn’t surprise her, given what she’s seen of the county. He can hear the cook yelling something she can’t understand from the kitchen. Dahlia settles on ordering a cola and a deer burger; thinking about the hunted stag she saw Jacob kill.  

As she waits on her food, the chatter of a group catches her ear. They’re not from Hope County; the different cadences of how they speak mingled with fancy latin technical terms tells her as much. Trying to be discreet; she glances at them over her shoulder. A group of four; two women and two men all around the same age. Dahlia’s not the brightest bulb in the pack by her own admission, but when she hears the words corvids and lupine, she realizes they’re talking about animals. It doesn’t shock her, given the abundance of wildlife in the county, certainly people would come to research them. 

The door to the restaurant swings open and a man comes walking in, shoulders back and footfalls confident. It reminds her clearly of Jacob, the walk of a soldier, though this man isn’t quite as intimidating a figure. Older than Dahlia, though most people are, with a full dark beard and long scraggly dark hair. He doesn’t bother to take a seat at a booth or look at a menu, only giving a single wave to the cook in the back as he makes a beeline to the group. Dahlia shifts a little further down into her booth, not that anyone could truly tell she’s eavesdropping, but it gives a little more secrecy to it. 

 “You the conservationists?” 

 “Yeah, we’re studying the wildlife here… And you are?” 

“Eli, not here to ‘cause trouble or anything like that, just wanted to give some friendly advice.” 

“Friendly advice?” 

“You need to watch yourselves out in those woods.”

“Pffft.” 

“We’re well aware of how dangerous the wildlife out here can be. You-” 

“No, you aren’t. There’s wolves-”

“And bears and mountain lions, oh my,” one of them jokes, “look, we know what we’re doing.” 

“You’re not listening, they’re not regular wolves. They’ve been trained to kill and hunt people down on sight. Even if you avoid ‘em, you get on the cult’s bad side and they’ll send ‘em after you. You gotta be careful out here.” 

“Okay, sure,” the eyeroll is nearly audible, “we’ll keep an eye out for killer cult wolves, don’t worry.” 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, alright.” 

The man, Eli walks away, and Dahlia considers stopping him. Admitting her nosiness and ask him some of the million questions going through her mind. Surely by cult, he means Eden’s Gate, right? Dahlia can’t imagine who else he could mean. They’re small and close knit, but they’re not a cult, right? Cults imply something more out there or intense; they’re just a little Christian church. Joseph may have his own book, but they still follow Christian ideas of sins and scripture.

And wolves? How could they possibly be training wolves? It’s all so ridiculous and asinine, making gears spin and churn in her head until they overheat, but it was said with such conviction. By the time she brings herself to make a noise, Eli has already left, and it’s probably for the best. It’s too crazy to be true. Maybe he’s a tinfoil hat wearing type of guy, a conspiracy theorist like the Zip guy who leaves a newsletter in every damn corner of the county, screaming about chemtrails and baby farms.

She fills her stomach, deciding to leave that as it is, finally returning to her trailer late that night. A restless night of sleep with images of wolves and deer creeping around through her brain, nothing concrete enough to latch onto, but enough to unsettle.

A boring morning leads into a boring afternoon, time blurring before the sun has set and Dahlia’s finding herself pulling up to The Spread Eagle to catch her coworkers after their shift. She’s popped enough pain killers that the throb of music and noise is welcomed instead of irritating. A smile already gracing her lips when she catches Pratt and Hudson shooting the shit in the bar’s lowlight. As she sneaks up closer to them, their conversation starts to be audible over the tunes playing through the bar.

“I bet you break before then,” Hudson says, a teasing grin directed at Pratt.

“Hey, it’s only six months.”

“Please, you’re weak and you know it.”

“How much you wanna bet?”

Dahlia strikes, throwing her arms over Pratt’s shoulders, effectively hugging him from behind and leaning her weight into him. He’s warm and Dahlia can’t fight the impulse to squeeze him a little tighter. She breathes in the faint smell of coffee and cologne that still cling to him; comforting after so much time spent around him.

“Jesus fuck, when’d you get here?” Pratt blusters and at this close of a range Dahlia can see his cheeks pinkening under the scruff of his beard. Does this bother him?

“Right now.”

“You decided to come hang out again?” Hudson asks, grinning at the flustered Pratt.

“Mmhmm,” Dahlia hums into Pratt’s shoulder, pressing her face into him, “bored.”

“Get off me,” he grumbles and reaches back to swat at her hip.

“Ugh, buzzkill,” she bitches as she detaches from Pratt and climbs onto a bar stool, “so what the hell are you guys making bets about?”

Pratt coughs, trying to dislodge something from his throat, and Hudson laughs, “yeah, Pratt why don’t you tell her about our bet?”

“Don’t worry about it, Rook.”

“We still need to set an amount.”

“Fifty,” Pratt suggests and Dahlia wants to know even more what the hell they’re making bets about.

“Mmm, hundred.”

“Fine, if you’re comfortable losing that much.”

“Anyone gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nope.”

“Well, that’s gonna drive me crazy now, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and orders food, stuffing her face as she listens to her coworkers fill her in on anything of interest she’s missed during her off time. It’s not much, as usual, the workload in Hope County is pretty low stakes. Hunting violations, speeding tickets, and the like. Seems like her assault is about the most interesting case in a while. Dahlia’s tempted to ask if they know anything about wolf attacks but bites her tongue before she does. Hope County is filled with wildlife, wolf attacks have no doubt occurred to some degree and if she mentions the idea of trained cult wolves, they might start to think she’s buying into the conspiracy shit.

“Stop,” Pratt says suddenly, putting hand on Dahlia’s knee, “you’re shaking the whole damn bar.”

Her leg she realizes has been bouncing the whole time, the hike helped, workouts help, but she’s still breaming with pent up energy. There’s a rustle of movement and Dahlia is drawn to the open floor near the jukebox, she’s seen a few people dance here and there, a couple now and again swaying to softer tunes while she’s been here. But, it’s more crowded tonight, people laughing and dancing together.

“People are dancing,” she states the obvious.

“It’s ladies’ night, women drink free, so everyone’s extra, uh, energetic tonight,” Hudson tells her.

An upbeat song starts and Dahlia’s up in the next breath, she needs to move, burn off excess energy. And while her favorite club in Lake Charles isn’t exactly available to her anymore, she’ll jump at the chance to lose herself in a song.

You should be wilder, you're no fun at all.

Dahlia’s singing along as she sways and shifts through the crowd, body moving instinctually to the beat. There’s a woman about Dahlia’s age, long blonde hair and brown eyes, dancing as well and the deputy finds herself gravitating towards her.

Yeah, thanks for the input.

Thanks for the call.

She asks low into the woman’s ear, so she can be heard over the music, if she can dance with her. The response is a smile, lighting up the girl’s face, a nod of her head and then she’s pulling Dahlia in by the hips.

With dull knives and white hands

The blood of a stone

Cold to the touch, right

Right down to the bone

And then she loses herself in it. In the music that fills the bar, the feeling of a stranger touching her, the slide of her feet as she moves,  the way hips knock together, the scratch in her throat as she sings lyrics in the woman’s ear, their grins as they laugh and bump noses together. It’s fun and it’s silly, a reason to move and forget life for a moment.

Cause you give me the electric twist and it kicks and it kicks like a pony.

And true, you might run away with it, it's a risk it's a risk yeah.

Because it kicks yeah.

It really kicks yeah.

Dahlia spins the woman with a laugh, before pulling the woman close against her again, wide smiles and bright eyes as their foreheads touch. There’s sweat sticking to their skin as the song winds down. Panted breaths ghosting over each other’s faces as they come down from exertion.

And the touch of your lips it's a shock not a kiss

It's electric twist, it's electric twist

“How much I gotta pay to see you kiss?!” A loud voice booms out, making Dahlia and her dance partner of the night separate. There’s a man, couldn’t be older than his mid twenties, sitting at the bar with his legs sprawled open drinking a beer at the table between the bar and the dance area. His eyes linger and look over both women’s bodies

“Can I help you?” Dahlia asks and furrows her brows, glowering at the man as she draws closer.

“Oh just enjoying the show, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart and I’m not a damn show.”

“Pfff, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he turns back to his table and rolls his eyes, as if Dahlia’s the problem, “fucking dykes.”

The junior deputy grits her teeth and she sees from her peripheral the woman rubbing the back of her neck, letting her bangs fall into her face looking like she’d rather disappear.

“The fuck did you call us?” She can’t stop herself from speaking, barely managing to reign her anger in enough not do something worse.

“You heard me.”

“Fuck you!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Pratt’s voice cuts through as the man starts to turn to retort, the warmth of her coworker’s hand wraps around the clenched fist she didn’t realize she had raised.

“Is something wrong?” Mary May calls out, starting to walk out from behind the bar.

“Everything’s fine,” Pratt responds before Dahlia can say anything and when she starts to speak, he looks at her to whisper, “you’re barely three weeks into your job, you really wanna be getting into bar fights?”

“He ca-”

“I heard what he said, Rook, but it ain’t worth your job.”

“You’re right,” she gnaws on her lip and looks down on the ground, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I get it, I just don’t want you doing anything stupid.”

“I need some fresh air.”

Dahlia leaves The Spread Eagle, noticing the woman she danced with has already vanished, unwilling to deal with the bullshit. A cool breezes ghosts over her sweaty skin as she sits down on the porch steps at the front of the bar; running her hands through her hair as she fights to ease her nerves. She digs a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket

There’s a crush of footsteps as she lights one, bringing it to her lips, shiny black leather boots entering her vision.

“Dep-yoo-tee.”

“You Seeds can just smell when I’m sad, can’t you?” She teases looking up to see John, the neon bar sign setting his face aglow in the night as he chuckles at her.

“Not my intention, but if you’re in need of a talk, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“You weren’t coming out here to harass Mary May again, were you?”

“Deputy,” he puts his hand to his chest cartoonishly dramatic in his hurt, “h-harassment? That’s ridiculous. am I not allowed to visit with Ms. Fairgrave and just discuss our difference of opinions.”

His voice is ramping up in pitch as he defends himself and Dahlia can’t help but smile, appreciating the distraction from her own troubles.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Mary May would have a different of opinion about that one. We still gotta talk about members stealing booze.”

“Our members would do no such thing; and I assure you, if there’s any harassment here, we’re the victims. We’ve been insulted, had our sermons interrupted, our practices mocked, Mary May herself once showed up our church simply to cause trouble.”

“Okay, okay, it’s a two-way street, I get it. Sit, we can chat for a bit,” she pats the section of porch step beside her and reluctantly after a beat of silence, he sits down, “so, Mary May caused trouble for you guys?”

“Yes, yes, she has and she’s not the only one; the people of this county have persecuted me and my family since we’ve been here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, no one should mistreat you that way,” she looks him in the eye as she speaks, “and if it ever happens again, I want you to call down to the station, ask for me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Well, it’s certainly nice to know you’re on our side.”

“Ah, ah, I’m on everyone’s side. Mary May is owed the same respect as you and your family; and if you cause issues for her, I won’t hesitate to intervene for her sake as well. I’m here to keep everyone safe. Got to treat everyone like you wanna be treated, the whole spiel.”

“I know you’re not preaching biblical principles to me, dep-yoo-tee.”

“Not biblical, just a little maturity.”

“Are you implying I’m immature.“

“You’re a grown man spatting with a woman ten or more years younger than you; throwing a tantrum and pointing fingers when you’re told to behave.”

“First of all, I’m not that old,” Dahlia raises an eyebrow at him, “don’t look at me like that, I’m 32. Secondly, I am not a child. Mary May has-“

“And if she does something again, now that I’m here, let me know and I will help. But her actions don’t justify yours.”

“Fine, I’ll be sure to hold you to that promise, then.”

“I mean it’s less a promise and more so doing my job, but alright.”

She breathes out a plume of smoke, making sure to aim away from John’s face, his blue eyes track the movement and the nicotine fumes that escape into the air. An ex-smoker, she deems as she watches him staring at her lips and the cigarette between her fingers.

“You want a smoke?” She asks, offering her pack of cigarettes.

“Smoking is forbidden in Eden’s Gate.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Tattooed fingers pick out a cigarette and she lights it for him with a grin, watching him take a deep inhale and blowing out the smoke that fills his lungs. The soft rise of his chest and the gray clouds that billow out from parted lips. She notices for the first time the freckles on his neck and chest, shirt unbuttoned low enough to expose them. There’s thin fresh scratches along his hands and forearms, too superficial and fresh to match the deeper worn in scars, they look like cat scratches. And yeah, he seems like a cat guy.

“So, now that you’ve berated and tempted me, deputy,” he speaks after an exhale of smoke, “why were you out here pouting?”

“BREH!” She plops her back down on the porch with a vague animal long groan and throws her arms over her eyes, cigarette still between two fingers, must he remind of her own issues.

“Well that certainly wasn’t immature or dramatic.”

And she laughs, because he’s right, she can preach maturity all she wants to him. But, she’s still a brat herself. She’d justify herself with their massive age difference, because no way he’s thirty-two, but that feels flimsy at best. They’re both just two temper tantrum throwing children, hell they’re even both fibbing about their ages. Though, she suspects his own much more severe than the few months she adds to her own.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You know,” he lays back on the porch, matching her position, “I take the confessions for our church, if there’s anything you need to get off your chest, I’m the man to talk to.”

“Not much to say; guy called me a slur, I nearly throttled him.”

“Someone else’s actions don’t justify your own,” he parrots her words back to her.

“Yeah, someday I’ll follow my own advice.”

“Has that happened before?”

The gears in her brain churn, she’s been called many a thing, but her sexuality has been one of the less insulted facets of who she is.

Her stepfather, as religious as he was, was adamant on his hatred of gay people. But her own disinterest in exploring her sexuality or romance saved her from his scorn in that area, his focus more on the other various things he found deplorable about her.

Her mother’s side is Ashkenazi Jewish, and Dahlia remembers the few people of her stepfather’s church who despite her mother converting were disgusted their preacher would marry a Jewish woman. A handful leaving the church, a few sticking by just to call Dahlia and her mother slurs when their backs were turned.

The nightclub she favored in Louisiana was considered a gay bar, though not exclusive to LGBT folks. Women dancing with women, men dancing with men, men and women dancing; and a healthy amount of people who didn’t quite fit either label. Only one-night sticks out, a car speeding past the line outside the bar just to scream a slur out the window.  

Maybe what bothered her most was the boldness. This wasn’t someone whispering when they thought Dahlia couldn’t hear, and this wasn’t a man just screaming out at the public as he speeds away. Just a man emboldened and willing to hurt her in front of a bar filled with people.

“We’re blocking the door.”Everything else died on her lips; unable to spill her guts.

“And we weren’t while you were lecturing me?”

Her phone buzzes in her jacket as she brings her cigarette back into her mouth, unwilling to justify her evasiveness to a man she barely knows, she answers a number she doesn’t know at all.

“Hello?” She says around her smoke.

“H-hello, is this a deputy?” A soft broken voice, she remembers from the diner,  asks her and Dahlia sits up, tension pricking at the back of her neck.

“That’s me, Cassie?”

“You remember me…”

“What’s going on, are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh, I…” a beat of silence and a choked sob comes next, “no, I’m sorry, I’m, I’m not okay, I-“

“Where are you?” Dahlia’s on her feet, heartbeat in her throat as she waves off John’s furrowed brows and concern, running to her bike.

“I’m at the diner. I didn’t know where else to go…”

“I’m headed your way now, Cassie, are you safe?”

“I…I don’t know…I…”

Her voice breaks out into sobs again as Dahlia starts her engine, slams on her helmet, and switches her phone to the speaker in her helmet. The girl’s cries echoing around her as her wheels kick gravel across the parking lot, speeding out of Falls End.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #john seed #jacob seed #this is love #dahlia hale #joseph seed #if you ever think im like smart or competent i want you to know that everytime i post a chapter i doubt my ability to count #like i know last chapter was chapter 7 but am I reeeeallly on chapter 8 is that reaaaaalllly how numbers work

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 248: Internships II: THE MENTORING

Previously on BnHA: Endeavor asked Deku and Kacchan to give him the rundown on their character arcs, and Izuku said that he was trying to master his new definitely-not-a-second-quirk quirk, while Katsuki explained that he was trying to find “what he lacks” because he is going for 100% completion in his redemption arc and will accept nothing less! Gotta finish all those sidequests! Anyway so Endeavor was surprisingly into the whole mentoring thing for both of them, but then his own son was all “dad I’ve got something to say too” and Endeavor was like “oh shit” and Shouto was like “I still don’t like you as a person or a father and I only came here to learn flashfire from you!” and fandom was like “HOLY SHIT RIP THAT MAN HAD A FAMILY” and Shouto was like “YEAH I KNOW THAT’S THE WHOLE PROBLEM.” Anyways then they went on a walk, and Endeavor told the boys to try and take down a villain faster than him before the end of the winter break.

Today on BnHA: Endeavor and the Rowdyruff Boys take to the streets and fight some crime. Endeavor spends a lot of time giving the youths advice about how not to be so fucking slow, and even though he’s a bit of an ass about it, he makes some strong points about how a split second can mean the difference between life and death in a hero’s line of work. Anyway so he tells Shouto and Kacchan to work on storing up their power and releasing it all at once, and he tells Deku to work on making his Air Force as automatic as his Full Cowl is. They all sit around and munch on some bread, Deku does a bit of monologuing, and then we cut to ONE WEEK LATER and FUYUMI WANTS TO INVITE ALL THREE OF THE BOYS TO A FAMILY DINNER!? Motherfucker why does the last fucking panel have more exciting content than the rest of the chapter combined. Well anyways, at least we’ve got that to look forward to.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)

YESSSS IT’S MY GIRLS

is this a new dragon form for Ryuukyuu? it seems like something in between her big ol’ Smaug form and her human form? or maybe this is just forced perspective making her seem smaller than she actually is here. anyways she kicks ass as always and still want to see her breathe some fire

I just realized everyone on this team can fly? except maybe Hadou? but I seem to recall her hovering over some bad guys when using her powers a while back though. I really don’t remember much about her quirk; I’m glad the anime will be getting up to that soon, because actually seeing it in motion will probably help it to stick more in my memory

(ETA: she can release her shockwaves from her feet to levitate! everyone on this team can fly confirmed! well Tsuyu can’t, but her quirk is basically an offshoot Spider-Man brand so it’s close enough.)

moving on! looks like we’re getting some DEKU INNER MONOLOGUE

okay, several things that I like about this before we continue:

look how fucking comic-booky this is. the main character parkouring through the city streets, thinking Deep Thoughts in square boxes? pretty sure this is the first page of every single comic book ever made and I LOVE IT

that metaphor about learning to walk when everyone else was already focused on where they were going to run. god I love me a good metaphor. though Deku, you were technically 15 when All Might actually gave you the quirk. that’s not on you though, that’s on Horikoshi who I’m sure has already realized the error by this point and is probably kicking himself and will write a 10,000 word apology in the volume omake

the fact that SIXQUIRKS!! IS FINALLY BEING ACKNOWLEDGED AS A THING AGAIN OMG. I’ve only waited like 5 million years for more of this, so pardon me if I lose my fucking shit depending on where this is all headed. omg. this stupid manga

anyway!

they seem to have stumbled upon a game of Mario Kart in progress. at least I’m pretty sure this is a Mario Kart character. actually it might be Knuckles from Sonic the Hedgehog

so now Endeavor is MERCILESSLY CUTTING OFF HIS PATH WITH A WALL OF FLAME forcing him to abandon his bike if he doesn’t want to die a fiery death!

Endeavor truly does not give a fuck! not that All Might was any better, punching huge dents in the hoods of cars and shit. the moral of this story is, don’t be a villain. just don’t. because the number one heroes will fuck you uuuuuuup

now Endeavor is yawning and looking over his shoulder at Kacchan and Deku all, “oh you guys were there too?” but not really but basically though

(ETA: oh my god I just noticed the “hit-and-runner” part. have the people in this town never heard of brakes? do they know that red means stop?? also does Endeavor really spend the majority of his day just flying around dealing with traffic violations. I guess technically it’s still New Year’s, so it’s probably a slow day and also everyone is probably drunk.)

god you kids are so slow. it’s because you’re on that social media all the time! and watching all that MTV. kids these days don’t play outside in the fresh air anymore! back in my day!! anyways tough luck you young whippersnappers

Kacchan is grumping that he’s at a disadvantage because of the temperature. I forgot all about that

hey Kacchan I think your best friend has something he wants to tell you there

loool

OF COURSE HE REALIZED but uh, go ahead and spill it anyway if you want. but he definitely did realize. whatever it is that you’re about to tell him

so Shouto says that Endeavor is propelling himself by shooting flames from his feet, and that it’s probably a compressed version of the “jet burn” technique he used in Kyushu. you know, the one he used to fly, and Hawks was all “Endeavor you can fly!?” and Endeavor was all “this isn’t flying, this is falling with style” and we all rolled our eyes

anyway guys. if this is the beginning of Shouto finally learning to fly as well, I will get up and do some kind of happy dance, I don’t even know. do you even know how long I’ve wanted this. PLEASE

lol so Kacchan is all “okay I actually did know that, are you telling me you only just figured that out now” aaaaand yeah. I wasn’t gonna say it, but. Shouto how many times did you sit there and watch Endeavor blast off before you finally said “oh my GOD he’s BLASTING OFF!” sob. IT’S ALL THAT MTV AND AVOCADO TOAST! that noise isn’t even real music! get off your phone and have an actual conversation!

Shouto is so handsome and so good at accepting criticism. what an all-star. please start flying around soon my little Canadian flag

so now Endeavor is blasting off again and sassily hinting at which direction he’s flying off to next. “there’s a major street in that direction”

so now they’re taking off after him

that’s an interesting way of saying that he’s setting the whole town on fire. how do the people in Endeavor’s territory all manage with their daily commute? “almost there boss be there in five... oh hold up... Main Street’s blocked off by a raging inferno, I’ll call you back”

Endeavor says that heroes must be able to do “anything and everything” on their own, which is a curious thing to say in this manga which has time and time again made a point of demonstrating how teamwork gets the job done! I’m not sure I agree with this, Endeavor!

though I guess he just means they need to be able to handle it all if necessary. but I mean, sometimes that’s just not possible. using his own example of Kyushu, there’s no way he would have been able to handle the Hijinks Noumu while protecting all the citizens and fighting off all the other cannon fodder noumus all at the same time. I’m not even sure All Might would have been able to do that. maybe this is an example of how Endeavor still doesn’t have all of this hero stuff figured out yet

lol oh my god

Endeavor that was like four chapters ago, why are you only now bringing this up. act your age

OH SNAP GUYS HE’S MENTORING BAKUGOU. AND BY MENTORING I MEAN PICKING A FIGHT OH MY GOD

DON’T MIND ME I’M JUST WATCHING THIS OLD GRUMP TEACH THIS NEW YOUNG UPSTART JUST LIKE TOMMY LEE JONES IN MEN IN BLACK OMGGGG

so Kacchan is again saying that he needs more time in the winter, but like. Kacchan that’s not like you to make excuses. are you just going to hibernate for three months out of every year and only save people when it’s warm out?? or what

and Endeavor’s saying the same thing

oh shit y’all he’s getting real with them now

oh shit

by the way how fucking dangerous is this town, jesus. supposing that Endeavor wasn’t out here on patrol, what would be the daily casualty rate? first we had that glass guy rampaging downtown earlier, then that motorcyle guy who probably hit a dozen people, and now Tommy and Gina here nearly get run over by a speeding truck. what is this, Gotham City

anyway now Endeavor is saying TodoBaku rights so I’ll shut up

BECAUSE SOMEBODY UP THERE LIKES ME KACCHAN THAT’S WHY! now hush!!

Shouto’s asking if this is related to him learning flashfire, because lest we forget, he’s here for ONE REASON and ONE REASON ONLY lol

so Endeavor says the two of them have to learn how to store up their energy and release it, and how to “condense” their power

you guys I am super hyped about this. not only because BEST FRIENDS PART TWO: THE FRIENDENING!!, but also because this will be the first time Kacchan has gotten a physical power-up in like, ever. (well, AP Shot I guess, but shh.) if he and Shouto are not both flying by the end of this arc then what even is the point!

anyway so Endeavor’s telling them all this technical shit about what to do, blah blah blah, but the short version is they need to be able to go from zero to sixty instantaneously, and release all the stored-up firepower focused into one single point, and to practice doing that until it’s second nature to them

omfg Deku’s so excited

BECAUSE HE HEARTS YOU KACCHAN lol this isn’t anything new, don’t be so shocked. ACCEPT HIS LOVE

though come to think, that really is impressive even for Deku that he knows about that particular technique, because Kacchan created AP Shot back when Deku was supposed to be developing his own ENTIRELY NEW FIGHTING STYLE, which you would think wouldn’t have left him with much time to spare to also keep tabs on his rival and write down his every move. so is his Big Hero Brain just that good, or is this chapter also promoting BakuDeku rights in addition to TodoBaku rights? you decide! but you already know which one I think it is lol

so now Endeavor is giving some bonus mentoring to Shouto

(ETA: why is Kacchan the only one who actually eats his lunch sitting down. these weirdos.)

you guys I love Shouto so much but does he really need it broken down for him to this degree? “son, you know all the things you do to control your right side? try doing those things to control your left.” Shouto: “!!!!” all those video games and participation trophies have fried his brain! too much Instagram! this new generation is going to the dogs

now Endeavor is turning his attention to Deku! but I’m more focused on the fact that they’re eating lunch, because my priorities are just like that

like lol, check out this panel of Deku talking with his mouth full

whole chapter was worth it just for this. boy you’re gonna get crumbs all over your super suit

Endeavor’s asking if Deku can raise his power level subconsciously, and he says he can for Full Cowl, but not for Air Force

so he says the first thing Deku should do is learn to control Air Force subconsciously, and forget about the Bloop for now

and Deku is all “what about parallel thinking” but more importantly, LOOK AT THIS

CAN I JUST GET A WHOLE CHAPTER OF EVERYONE EATING BREAD. LOOK AT THOSE CHUBBY CHEEKS. THIS IS AMAZING

Endeavor says a big part of parallel thinking is being able to do it without consciously thinking about it, and damn he’s right

IT’S ALL ABOUT THAT INSTINCT! also how does he know the man is yawning? you can see him from up there?? DOES HE JUST KNOW EVERYTHING

and he says that once Deku can do two things at once subconsciously, he just needs to add one more thing. damn, he really managed to break it down so that even this chronic overanalyzer can understand the concept

practice, practice, practice until it’s second nature. solid fucking advice

hey everyone Kacchan is still eating. just a PSA

that’s one for the family album. my handsome boy

okay like. it’s a nice speech, but we get it already dude. you can stop talking now and we can move on to something new

so then there’s some more Deku monologuing, pretty much the same stuff he was saying at the start of the chapter, and then Endeavor hits us with this little bait and switch gem

like, the first part sounded almost comforting, and then PSYCH!!!! but I guess he’s just trying to get them all fired up

(ETA: and like, just a few chapters ago we established how the success of these three kids is actually CRITICAL TO THE FATE OF THE ENTIRE WORLD, APPARENTLY. so yeah this is a total bluff. deep down he’s actually sweating and thinking “holy shit they better not fail.”)

and Deku’s finishing up his monologue by saying his maximum speed is doing things one by one. well that’s fine. so now will there finally be a segue?

YAYYYY

OH SHIT YOU GUYS!!!

are we gonna finally get into that TODODRAMA I have my popcorn ready to go!

lmao “and he’s even got friends with him, right?!” ah Fuyu you are the best. she’s so happy Shouto has finally found himself some good pals

OH MY GODDDDDD

HEY WHAT THE FUCK!!!

YOU SON OF A BITCH!! TWO THIRTEEN PAGE CHAPTERS IN A ROW, AND YOU FUCKING END WITH “NEXT TIME, IT’S A TODOBAKUDEKU DINNER AT THE HOUSE OF DRAMA!” AND THEN YOU HIT US WITH THIS. NEXT TIME I’LL JUST HAND YOU A KNIFE AND YOU CAN JUST STAB ME DIRECTLY IN THE CHEST TO MAKE IT EASIER FOR YOU, YOU BASTARD. WHAT AM I GONNA DO FOR THESE NEXT TWO WEEKS WHILE I WAIT FOR THIS CHAPTER OF EVERYONE SITTING AROUND AND EATING BREAD WHILE FUYU PRESUMABLY TELLS THEM THE STORY OF “THERE ACTUALLY USED TO BE A FOURTH KID BUT WE DON’T TALK ABOUT HIM ANYMORE BUT WE WILL NOW!” BECAUSE THEY GODDAMN BETTER

sob. this chapter was basically just a thirteen page trailer for the real meat of this arc. some nice mentoring did occur, I’ll give them that, and I very much enjoyed it. but I’m tired of feeling like we’re just treading water waiting to get to the next big thing! surely all of the set-up is finally done now, right? everyone has their goals established now, we’ve had a mini-time-jump and school is about to start again, and we’ve done our preliminary testing of all of the TodoBakuDeku dynamics and confirmed that all components are firing on all cylinders. basically what I’m saying is we are good to go! ready to get off of this bench! GO AHEAD AND PUT US IN, COACH

anyway guys so here’s a list of what I want to happen at this dinner:

Shouto being all “this is my sister Fuyumi” and Kacchan and Deku being all “COME AGAIN?” because they legitimately thought he was an only child

Fuyu chuckling about how Kacchan reminds her of her dad, and both Kacchan and Endeavor being grossly offended by this

Deku and Kacchan spotting a family photo on the mantel, and Shouto explaining “yeah, that’s my mom, and my brother Natsuo... AND... MY OTHER BROTHER, TOUYA” and then the camera rapid-fire pans to Fuyu and Endeavor and Shouto’s SUPER AWKWARD EXPRESSIONS, before ZOOMING IN ON THE PHOTO OF TOUYA, AND BOY DOES HE LOOK FAMILIAR OH MY GOODNESS

Deku and Kacchan eyeing each other all “holy shit wtf did we get ourselves into” as it begins to dawn on them that they wouldn’t have enough time to unpack all of this even if they had an entire crew of movers on the job. not even Marie Kondo could clean all this shit up. GOOD FUCKING LUCK BOYS

so yeah! lots to look forward to! so I’ll try and be patient. at least we’ve got the anime to keep us all occupied. who’d’ve thought the Basement arc would one day be our salvation. life sure is funny

#bnha #boku no hero academia #endeavor #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #todoroki fuyumi #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #and it says a lot that one of the reasons I'm so sure it's finally going to be That Time #is because out of all of the remaining unresolved plot threads #the todoroki 'our dead brother who isn't actually that dead and has now turned evil' plot #is actually the *least* effed up of the remaining plots #so like assuming that we're going to keep escalating from here #this is actually the natural place to start #and from there we can move on to the child experimentation and afo theory reveals and the end of the world #lol we sure are in for some good times #bnha 248

[goddamnitdazai]

intersect. || TachiChuu

Rarepair week Day 3 - Carrying Home || Contains Manga Spoilers || canon typical violence ||  Death is a texture. Thick like sludge that clings to everything. Death is a consistency of cold, eerie thoughts that rupture in the forefront of a mind succumbing to pain. To sickness. Death is both stagnate and ever changing. It contorts itself in to the life of others who witness it while simultaneously diminishing the light of a soul once burning as forceful as the sun. Death is prudent and strong--but there are cracks and flaws. Immeasurable circumstances that can change with one movement, one different action where death is pushed off for a time being. Chuuya, for most of his life, has been the unstoppable force. Or at least has tried.

In the last year the movements he’d constructed within seconds have strung death up by its heels. It had been coming after those he cared for time and time again and it had the young man grinding his teeth in the throws of war. Endless, it seemed. The madness of it all drew heavy ink-hued bags beneath once bright azure and where he once saw home now laid a reminder of all those he lost. Five towers knocked down to three. Smoke and ash curling among ruins. Memories wrapped in crumpled steel and concrete. 

The Port Mafia and Yokohama were running short on time. People fled, as they did during the last great war, and people remained to fight off the ones who turned their city into a battle zone. Neighboring gangs teaming up under the leadership of one powerful, and rather obnoxious as Chuuya saw him, man with dark eyes and and even darker soul. There were days Chuuya did not rest more than an hour or two before being called on to team up with the city’s strongest ability users currently able to withstand the siege. The hunting dogs. Among their ranks, a man formerly part of what he considered his family and a man he respected, though their interaction remained in situational delegations. Now and again Chuuya had gone on shorter missions accompanied by Tachihara before he betrayed the Port Mafia. He was good with a gun, and Chuuya was good with his legs. Missions that required reconnaissance as much as brute power were done well by the two of them. At first the subordinate seemed nervous around Chuuya and he was unsure if it was his demeanor or his position. Both, Chuuya had assumed but with the events that had unfolded months ago it was heard to decipher what was true. At least that is what Chuuya told himself. Truthfully, he knew the kid wasn’t that great of an actor nor was he that cold. There was sincerity in who Tachihara was while hidden in the Black Lizard. He supposes it doesn’t matter at this point. Tachihara was doing his job to protect the city, and for the time being Chuuya could forget his transgressions for the sake of Yokohama. Hirtosu and Gin were breathing, and truth be told Chuuya related to both the feeling of betrayal and betraying what he could consider...family. A literal knife in Chuuya’s back based on fear and manipulation. Mirrored actions. Parallel paths intersecting on a different timeline. Chuuya huffs at the thought. Understanding Tachihara’s reasoning didn’t excuse his actions, but it made it more difficult at times to hold blame. Chuuya was angry; but could he be? A bullet whizzes past his head directing his attention to the forefront. He smirks. Twisting the bullet back to its original owner with a soft hum. Concrete falling to dust beneath this weighted footsteps red aura glowing through his body. Scent of blood thick in the air, but he’d been around it so long it’d become a familiar perfume. Gunshots ring out. His smirk rises knees bending to shoot him up on top of a pile of bricks next to a decaying parking garage. Bits of what used to be a bookstore and second floor coffee shop leaning down from bombs blowing out the walls. Glass shards rise up coated in fluid garnit piercing the air with a quick whistle that silences the gunfire. He was looking for the leader’s supply route, and from the look of all the semi trucks he’d found it. A second explosion rattles Chuuya’s skeleton before he jumps from rock to rock brought up by the gravitational pull at his fingertips. Avoiding the attempted assassination and only feeling faint warmth from the glowing fire until it buries itself in grey smoke. Chuuya smirks and waits for the second round of gunfire. Heart pumping blood quickly through his veins as bullets surround him, middle finger out and directing the now-ruby glowing bullets in a swirl just to send them right back. In his peripheral he notices metal beams moving quickly past the semi trucks that had been idling suspiciously quiet. Where were the drivers? Apparently, not the men he just killed with their own bullets. He could really use a fucking cigarette right now.

More metal rattles from a pile of wreckage flinging bits into dust covered shadows. Chuuya side steps one with a grunt hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walks towards the four trucks lined in a row trying to place what used to be here. He didn’t spend much time on this side of town unless he was driving by on his bike. A car dealership? Something useless to him. His eyes bounce around the environment taking in each strip of detail, where every particle of dust falls, and the faint sound of labored breathing. Chuuya stops mid-step peering down beneath his foot. Thick crimson pooling near a pile of sharpened metal fragments dug deep into a man’s body. Hunter green and pale blue--the color scheme was tacky and easy to spot. The enemy, despite their destruction, weren’t exactly in the business of protecting their own. Chuuya steps on the man’s chest ending it quickly. Traitor couldn’t even end a life before he moved on to the next, he thinks, jaw locking as he continues forward dust caking his shoe in mottled grey and brown. Mangled framework of a half-finished building peeks through the billowing smoke and dust. Night sky keeping a majority of the street clouded in deep navy, but the dark was nothing out of the ordinary for Chuuya. This much destruction in one swoop was something of a rare occasion and it left a sour taste in his mouth. He shakes the memory from his head; later. When he was alone with a bottle of wine and the job was completed. He could unravel for a moment before picking himself up again. His posture straightens as he kicks a boulder in to a hidden guard aiming for his head. “Oi, you fuckers going to play hide and seek all night or are we going to have a real fight?” He calls into the darkness, smirk rising higher than the sliver of moonlight above. More gunfire, scattered. Thin pops of gold against murky black encapsulating the broken down building making it easier for them to hide. Chuuya didn’t care. He was used to fighting in the dark. He follows the sound, humming. Bullets bouncing off him, cement cracking beneath his feet into a dozen sharp comets careening forward. Blood splatters. Metal shakes. A curled beam split in thin strips begins to vibrate at his ankle and shoots forward completing the end of a few stragglers his rocks didn’t take out completely. At least Tachihara was doing his fucking job. Chuuya ducks beneath one of the tilted beams leaning against a half-crumpled wall of bricks like the entrance to a tent. Smoke thick enough to make him pull his forearm up to block it from entering his lungs. Quietly he steps over rubble and glass shards, bullet casings rolling into the obscurity around him sound echoing louder the deeper he walks. Strips of moonlight casting white over bruised and battered bodies atop a pool of crimson painting the floor. Metal shards sticking out of a few further in. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up--something hits the floor near him hidden in the shadow barely caught by his quick-shifting gaze. Three seconds more and Chuuya would have kicked a crater in Tachihara’s head. “Oi, warn me next time you’re going to sneak up on me!” He grates out, pivoting with his hands shoved back down in his pockets. Blue eyes growing wide at the sight of his former subordinate. Tachihara looked a bit buffer, maybe from training again with the hunting dogs, maybe Chuuya never really paid attention. Blood had begun to streak down his side soaking the white t-shirt and familiar jacket. Strange how he’d changed from his outfit. Confuse the enemy, keep his secret identity hidden from foreign organizations..it didn’t matter. Chuuya’s jaw locks as he kneels down on the balls of his feet to asses. “You okay?” He asks voice a touch softer than before. Tachihara looks up at him blood caked on the right side of his head cascading down in thick dribbles over his cheek and chin. Shoulder speckled with the same deep red. “Yeah boss, asshole clipped my side and I fell.” He half-smiles and tries to push himself up to his knees only to fall again hand barely catching his weight. Chuuya’s brow arches. Boss? “Is Hirotsu okay?” Tachihara asks through gritted teeth. “Old man hasn’t been here all night. Shouldn’t he be helping or is it his bed time?” Despite the apparent pain Tachihara’s voice remains teasing, the way Chuuya remembered. Gruff, deep, a street tone Chuuya recognized in himself but airy in a way when he was around those he trusted. “Hirotsu…” shit, his head. Chuuya stares at him for a few moments running through different scenarios that could play out. Mori would want the information, but if he didn’t remember he was fucking useless as a captive. He wouldn’t even know he was captive. Chuuya rubs his palm down his face. “He’s fine. Hanging back letting us young ones do all the fuckin’ work.” Chuuya couldn’t let him die. For a myriad of reasons that would send the mafia in hot water, and..he couldn’t let him fucking die. Traitor or not. Traitor. That fucking word made Chuuya’s mouth feel dirty. And yet here they both were, perfectly described with that adjective. The only difference being time. Which meant what? It didn’t lessen the levels, the dishonesty and lies for personal gain. What happened because of his inability to lead. Tachihara showed himself as he was, there was little doubt in Chuuya’s mind the smoke and mirrors were just enough to infiltrate. Personal gain. Only reason to join a brigade like that; he wasn’t a mastermind like Jouno or a diehard believer...--but what drove him? Chuuya swears he feels something press into his back, the scar left long ago. Cold. His spine tingles. Tachihara’s face pales, sweat beginning to bead beneath his forehead and soak the front of his shirt. “C-c-chuuya-san...think..we can save the rest for the old man? Should pull his damn weight yeah?” That fucking half-smile, the one that tries to hide how deep his wounds were. His pain. “I suppose it’s only fair.” Chuuya states, extending his arms to scoop Tachihara up with ease. Kid was light as hell. “Oi, how do you weigh so little with all that muscle?” “I---you’re strong” He half bows to Chuuya in embarrassment, but the angle merely leads to Tachihara bumping the good side of his head against Chuuya’s chin. The older man grunts, eyes focused on what was in front of him. Feet moving fluidly through the wreckage; drop off point. The government had made one and he didn’t really give a fuck about being told to stay off the perimeter. Tachihara slumps against Chuuya’s chest causing Chuuya’s eyes to flit down in a panic that sends his heart to his throat. “Stay awake, Tachihara. It’s an order.” Chuuya commands in a tone the younger should recognize, and the reply of a simple nod is enough. The walk wouldn’t be too long, and from the quiet ahead there wouldn’t be much to stop them. Shadows pave their way winding through buildings and alleys. Yokohama drifting in to the one of the very few tranquil moments. Out of habit Chuuya begins to hum to himself. Filling the silence, and from what a few of them had said long ago… the reminder of someone else being there was comforting when everything else was uncertain and death loomed close. Chuuya tightens his grip on Tachihara, humming a bit louder as night begins to fall away to dawn.

#bsdrarepairweek #bsd rarepairweek #tachichuu #chuuya #tachihara #bsd #my writing #my writing tachichuu #day 3 #sliding in at midnight lmao

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Z 001

We now ask that you please rise for our national anthem.

HFIL YEAH IT’S TIME FOR DRAGON BALL Z.   Where do we start with this thing?    I guess we ought to talk about what the Z stands for.  

As far as the manga was concerned, there was never any change in the title.   American editions of the Dragon Ball volumes 18 through 42 were published as DBZ volumes 1-26, but that’s probably the only acknowledgement from the manga of the “Z” added to the anime’s title. 

I’m not sure why Toei wanted to change the title of the anime at all, unless they thought they needed some sort of rebranding to keep people interested.   The story I always heard was that Toriyama was planning to bring the Dragon Ball storyline to a close, so the Z is a reference to that, since Z is the last letter of the Latin alphabet.    I guess if you wanted to be a real pedant, you could divvy up the 153 episodes of Dragon Ball and call them “Dragon Ball A” through “Dragon Ball Y.”    Of course, those segments would only be six episodes long, on average. 

The great irony of Dragon Ball Z is that it ended up going on almost twice as long as its predecessor.   I’ve always heard that Toriyama wanted to end it earlier than he did, but Toei and his editors “pressured” him to keep going.   I don’t know if that means they begged him or they drove a truck full of money to his house, or they kidnapped his pet cat Koge.   Personally, I’ve never put too much stock in the idea of poor ol’ Akira Toriyama, being forced to produce low-quality sequels to the Frieza Saga.    The last 184 episodes are friggin’ awesome as far as I’m concerned.   In any case, it sure looks like Dragon Ball was going to wrap up with Frieza, and then it looked like it was wrapping up again with the Cell Games, and then it actually ended with the Buu Saga... at least until 2013 when Toriyama returned for Battle of Gods.  What can we make of this?  

Of course, let’s not forget that the original Dragon Ball anime ended with a pretty solid finale.   Goku defeated Piccolo, won the 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament, and married Chi-Chi.    That would have been a perfectly acceptable place to end things, right?    Everyone talks about how things were supposed to end with Frieza, but I don’t see why.   It could have ended with the Red Ribbon Army, really.  

I don’t know enough about the behind-the-scenes creative decisions behind Dragon Ball post 1989.   I don’t particularly care either.   I feel like anyone who claims to know usually has some agenda to push.   They’re trying to suggest that the Saiyans Saga or the Frieza battle was the high water mark of the series, and everything that followed was a trash dump.   And anyone’s entitled to that opinion, but I don’t buy the need to try to factualize that opinion with a bunch of talk about how Toriyama-sensei secretly agrees with that, but he was forced to make all of my favorite parts of DBZ.    No, I prefer to take DBZ as a whole.    Call that Death of Author, or whatever you like, but the fact of the matter is that DBZ is this 291-episode behemoth, whether it was meant to be or not.    Whatever the Z was supposed to stand for, what does it actually mean in light of it’s gargantuan length and false finishes?

I mean, when you really get down to it, can anyone truly say-- Wait, what the fuck is that thing?

Oh crap, it’s a meteor!   No wait, it’s a spacecraft!   It’s a good thing Farmer with Shotgun was nearby.    He’ll know what to do.

Oh snap, it’s an alien!   A very big alien!  

He scans Farmer with Shotgun to assess the tactical situation.    Good, maybe now he’ll realize that the heroes of Earth are nothing to mess with.   Farmer’s shotgun was forged in the mystic fires, and loaded with ammuniton from the sacred halls of Second Amendment Firearms just off State Road 64. 

Wait, did this guy just catch the bullet?   Hold on...

Wha--?

Holy shit!   He flicked the bullet back so hard that it hit Farmer and knocked him back into his own truck, popping the hood!  

What the hell is going on here?    How did the shotgun break apart?   This is insane!

Meanwhile, here’s Goku’s son, Gohan, named after Goku’s adoptive grandfather.   He’s a cute li’l tyke who wanders off a lot because he’s super into animals, like this butterfly.  

Also, he’s kind of a wuss.    Then again, he’s only four, so who can blame him.

The long and short of this episode is that Gohan wanders away from home and gets lost, so Goku has to go out and find him.    I always used to forget why he’d get lost like this, but his fascination with nature seems to have a lot to do with it.  

Eventually Goku finds him, but not before Gohan falls over a waterfall, except he somehow manages to end up in a tree branch far higher than the falls.  Goku retrieves the boy, but neither of them know how he got up that high.

Meanwhile, our alien menace tracks down the strongest power in range of his sensor, which just happens to be Piccolo.    What’s Piccolo doing all alone out here?   Beats me.   I’d like to say he’s training to beat Goku some day, but when we see him, he’s just standing around like he’s zoning out.  

Piccolo gets cranky so he tries to kill the alien, but it does absolutely nothing.    The alien threatens to respond with an attack of his own...

But then he detects another big power signature, and takes his leave.  

Piccolo drops to his knees, utterly terrified from this nearly fatal encounter.  

All we really know about this guy going in is that he’s looking for someone named Kakarot, and since it’s not Piccolo, he’s convinced that it must be this other strong power on the planet.   Only, he thought Piccolo was a weakling, so the only other guy on the planet who’d even be worth his notice is...

Hoo-boy.  

So back to what I was talking about before.    There really isn’t a big ideological shift when we move from Dragon Ball to Dragon Ball Z.  A new bad guy appears, he’s stronger than the previous bad guys, and the stakes will naturally be raised.   It’s been five years since the previous arc, but it’s not unusual for this story to flash forward a few years.

What is unusual is that the stakes are being raised far higher than they’ve ever been before.   King Piccolo took over the world, and then Piccolo Junior threatened to do it again.   This new guy took Piccolo’s best shot and laughed it off.     He’s so much stronger than Piccolo that there’s no way Goku even stands a chance, and this guy already knows it, because he has a device that tells him how strong people are.   Whatever he’s after, he didn’t come here to conquer the world like Piccolo.    That would be... beneath him.    He has a completely different agenda that goes far beyond the pitiful concerns of the Earth and its inhabitants.  

A long time ago, this wrestler named Jake “The Snake” Roberts used a finishing move called the DDT.    It’s kind of lost some of it’s mystique in recent years.   Randy Orton uses a modified version to soften his opponents up, but Jake’s DDT was absolute.   He hit you with it and you were down for the count, period.   That’s why it got the name.    DDT is a pesticide.    It actually stands for dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane.    The story goes that someone once asked Jake what the name “DDT” stood for in reation to his finishing move, and he ominously replied “The End.”

And that’s what the “Z” was supposed to stand for in Dragon Ball Z.   The End.   Only it never quite seems to be the end, does it?   This alien’s arrival heralds a time of great upheaval, and given how badly he humbled Piccolo, it sure looks like there’s no way anyone can stop him.   We’re only an episode into this thing, and it already looks like the world is doomed.  

But it’s not the end.    Z is the last letter of the alphabet.   Beyond it lies oblivion, but we’re not past Z just yet.   Z isn’t the end, it’s the last stop before the end.   It’s a precipice we stand upon as we look down into the abyss below.   Yes, this certainly looks like the end of the world.  

But not yet.    Not yet.

#2019dbliveblog #dragon ball #goku #gohan #piccolo #chi chi #raditz #farmer with shotgun #dragon ball z #saiyans saga

[cynthiaandsamus]

Custom Toonami Block Week 53 Rundown

Code Geass: Mao kidnaps a little blind crippled girl to get his not-girlfriend back from the guy who said he totally fucked her and stuff last episode and for some reason he believes him. Luckily the combination of Lelouch’s ridiculous planning skills and Suzaku’s ridiculous kicking shit skills are OP and CC murders him after he spills Suzaku’s secret about murdering his father, which is… yeah  

Inuyasha: The Togenkyo retelling begins and we have some weird clashes of early Inuyasha weirdness and mid-Inuyasha tropes. We get excuses to kick Sango out of the party for a few days and explanations about why Inuyasha didn’t go full demon but also weird things like Inuyasha calling Tessaiga with his sheathe which he never really does again. Also I’ve always wondered if this makes the jewel shard count different between the anime and manga since Peach Boy already has a jewel shard when they find him and this becomes part of the batch Kikyo gives to Naraku later in the manga but they hold onto it for a while in the anime so Anime Inuyasha has +1 jewel shard on Manga Inuyasha and that must be a bitch to keep track of continuity-wise.

Yu Yu Hakusho: Yusuke continues his quest to get his life back and transitioning from the end with Kuwabara last week we get his spotlight episode this week. It’s a straightforward ‘hero punk has loyalty and honor but villain authority figure doesn’t and rigs the game’ tale that is really relatable in shonen but like everything else in this series it’s done really well and seeing Yusuke beat up a bunch of punks as a schoolgirl is really funny. Luckily whenever he takes over a body he doesn’t seem to suffer any drawbacks from having less muscle or height or anything so I guess Yusuke’s just 100% technique when it comes to fighting.

Unlimited Blade Works: Rin and Archer jump into the Chapel where Caster decided to dress Saber up in her skimpiest wedding dress to play damsel in distress because something something killed Priest Alucard, Holy Grail, ???, Profit. But Archer definitely for reals betrays Rin and this isn’t a ploy or plan at all and Caster has like half the servants now. Then Rin takes Shirou to the big starry sky romance field so he can confess that she’s his love interest for this route.

Panty and Stocking: So Panty gets vored by a toilet and the girls get to do their animation transformation for an introduction, then the innuendo train literally comes to town and the fuck word is said approximately fifty times. But it turns out the real friends were the dicks we sucked and sweets we ate along the way.

FMA Brotherhood: Al fights Kimblee and Pride in one of the most badass fights in the seires until Kimblee gets struck down by an unfortunate lion attack and Pride gets taken out by a fucking car. (Mrs. Bradley saved him from getting hit by one car, Yoki fixes that right up). May keeps fighting Envy sortof and the Armstrongs fuck Sloth right up. Meanwhile the main character is stuck fighting fodder zombies until Mustang shows up because apparently if you change what kind of food truck it is Central Soldiers don’t investigate at all.

Attack on Titan: We get a flashback of how the racism trio killed Marco because he didn’t just fly away when he could and spare us two seasons of traitor reveals. Meanwhile Bertoldt decides to stop having any character nuance and go full racism and rage while Reiner’s down for the count he becomes a steam-powered nuclear bomb and blows everyone away.

#ooc #Toonami #Custom Toonami Block #Code Geass #Inuyasha #Yu Yu Hakusho #Unlimited Blade Works #Fate #Panty and Stocking #FMA Brotherhood #Attack on Titan