#Japanese Tattoo Ladies II

[zegalba]

Japanese Tattoo Ladies II by Keibunsha (1991) Photography By: Akimitsu Takagi

[rggtattoos]

Tattoo Analysis: Awano Hiroki

Awano is the self-indulgent, violent face of the Dojima family, and one of the 3 lieutenants vying for the top position.

I have to be honest, this one threw me. Momotaro is a folk hero who comes from the humblest beginnings, growing up to risk his life to protect his family and homeland from an invading force. Awano is a hedonist who shoots a lady we don't even know to…make a point? The point being that he really knows how to kill the mood. And people.

The 3 Dojima lieutenants are portrayed by well-known actors who all starred in various yakuza-themed films. Riki Takeuchi, the voice actor and face actor for Awano has a similar Momotaro tattoo in the 2003 film Kikoku (US title: Yakuza Demon) in which Takeuchi portrays a low-level yakuza fighting to advance the standing of his small family and protect his boss against a much larger gang.

The best I have to connect Momotaro to Awano specifically is the folk hero's role in Japanese war propaganda. Momotaro has often been used to represent Japan as a whole, and in World War II he was used to represent Japan fighting the foreign "Oni". WWII and the lasting social and economic effects it has had on Japan have come up several times over the series. Momotaro's double life as beloved mythic hero and propaganda tool could also reflect the bubble economy and Awano himself—fun and colorful, but with a dark side that doesn't care who is hurt to keep the party going.

[blazefire-engine]

The Deal (Part V)

Summary:

Backed into a corner, Paradis is in need of advanced weaponry to go against Marley forces. Mikasa Ackerman understands this more than anyone. The Azumabito family complies with her request to share Hizuru’s technology with the island demons- in exchange for being “Hizuru’s hope.” A small price to pay, according to the ever loyal and self-sacrificing Mikasa.

Canon-divergence from chapter 107 to 132 (-ish). Which means spoilers until chapter 132.

Additional note: This fic is also tagged as #rivamika-thedeal if you want to avoid snk 139 spoilers in the rm tag. And link to AO3 and FFnet for those who want to avoid tumblr spoilers altogether.

Part: I  |  II  |  III  |  IV  |  V

----------

They arrived at the capital of Mitras safe and sound. The day was far from over as the next schedule in order was an audience with Historia and top military brass.  

“Thank you for your cooperation.” Commander Pixis shook hands with Captain Azumabito. “This is a cause for celebration. The first foreign ally of Paradis.”

“No, no. Thank you for the alliance. I believe both our nations can mutually benefit from each other’s support.” The Captain grinned. “We do think alike that a celebration is in order. I want to introduce to you our cuisine. And you must tell me what is in that flask of yours.”

“I respect a person with a good sense for alcohol!”

---

“Why the hell is he being so chummy.” Jean muttered with crossed arms as they exited the audience chamber. “I’m already annoyed. It makes me want to puke.”

Connie leered at him. “Eeeey, is Jean-boy jealou-”

Jean-boy twitched. “Shut up, Connie.”

A few female soldiers passed by, giggling and blushing.

“He’s a real lady killer too.” Connie grumbled as he rubbed the spot Jean hit. “Right, Sasha?”

The girl in question paid no attention to the subject as it looked like she was daydreaming. No doubt it was about the aforementioned Hizuru cuisine.

“This is Sasha we’re talking about.” Armin smiled. “She only has her eyes and mind on food.”

---

Mikasa stayed behind, along with Eren, Levi, and Hanji who were only a small distance away. The Azumabitos requested a few moments of her time, finally alone with a long, lost kin.

She unwrapped the bandage from her wrist, revealing the clan crest with three swords that formed a triangle.

“Amazing.” Captain Azumabito breathed, his hand instinctively reached out, about to touch her. 

At the movement, Levi straightened his stance from the wall while Eren behind her opened his mouth “Oi-”, but both relaxed when Mikasa curled her hand away.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never seen the crest embedded in the skin. The art of tattooing the symbol has been lost and ancient.” 

Mikasa clutched the tattoo protectively. “I recall the process is… a little painful. My mother had wooden needles and, apologies for a lack of better word, repeatedly stabbed my skin with ink until this symbol was formed.”

“Tebori,” Lady Kiyomi breathed out. It was the name of the tattooing technique used. "It means to carve by hand."

“Yes, that’s it.” Her son’s eyes widened in realization and the gravity of the situation. “You truly are a descendent of the forgotten Shogun clan.”

“Which reminds me.” He gestured a hand to one of their subordinates. “I brought a gift. My mother told me you were a soldier as well, capable of wielding a sword. And you have proven thus so when you slayed that titan.” 

Captain Azumabito untied and unwrapped the protective cloth, revealing the weapon. “It is called a katana. I teach it to my men. It is one of our weapons of choice in Hizuru.”

“T-Thank you.” She uttered out, taken aback by being gifted a weapon. With no other words, she noted in curiosity. “The blade is very thin.”

“Indeed it is, compared to yours.” The Captain grinned. “I can teach you.”

---

The Azumabitos departed as they were introduced to their chambers, while the Survey Corp returned by horseback to their base. 

Upon arriving, Mikasa went straight to the weapons room with intent to deposit the sword on her respected shelf. Before she could set it, she couldn’t help but unwrap it once more and inspect the weapon. She felt a strange connection with the katana. 

Perhaps it was a mixture of her Azumabito blood, calling on an ancestral relic, while her Ackerman blood called for her warrior instincts, a new weapon to master. 

Nevertheless, she had to admit it was a beautiful blade.

---

Damn bastard is already courting her.

“What the hell,” Jean muttered for the second time that day. He watched Mikasa gently inspect the sword. 

The rest of the squad also watched her from another room through the window across the courtyard. “Not even a day in and he’s already putting the moves on her.”

“It’s no surprise.” Armin said. “We all know Hizuru is trying to win her over. According to bloodline, she's their rightful heir after all. Besides, Mikasa is smart enough to not fall for his charms.”

“Looks like Levi has some competition.” Hanji snickered.

“What?!” Jean and Eren exclaimed, flustered.

At the same time, Levi glared and spoke in a low, blood-chilling tone. “What.”

As per usual, Hanji paid him no mind, tipping her chair back. “Well, Shikishima is a captain, trained with the sword, good looking, and he’s taller-”

Levi didn’t let her finish as he kicked the leg of her chair so hard it flew, leaving Hanji to fall butt first on the hard, stone ground.

“Oi, what was that for?!” The Commander whined.

----------

Oh my god y’all here we go. Let the games begin. This is getting out of hand already.

(when you spent time researching japanese tattooing techniques rather than my graduate project)

Also, important note: I will most likely not update for a day or two since I’m sure a lot of people will be talking about 139. But this means I have more time to refine the next parts and will return to an upload schedule. 

Anyways, I hope this brings some form of joy- y’all are scaring me with 139 lmao 

[thedigitalpen]

My 10 favourite... beefcake animes!

Okay yes, I realise that this is a rather weird title. I had originally thought to call it something along the lines of my favourite martial arts or fighting animes, but because the animes don’t always fall into that category, I decided to call a spade, a spade (or a beefcake, a beefcake) and admit that, most times sometimes, I just enjoy animes with muscular guys in them. That’s not to forget the ladies though because some of these shows also feature some rather muscular ladies in the mix too. So there’s something for everyone!

So, in no particular order (because the genres are sometimes different so making comparisons wouldn’t be fair):

1. Street Fighter series.

Hardly a surprise considering that this is a series that has a legacy firmly placed in the gaming world. Although you don’t really need to know who’s who in order to watch these shows, it doesn’t hurt to know a little about the characters before you jump in - mainly because the creators assume that those who watch it are fans of the show. Expect a fair amount of fighting (the name gives that one away), lots of bromance (Ryu and Ken 4eva!) and the eternal fight of good vs. evil (which is usually the plot of every show/movie)! Even if you aren’t familiar with Ryu & co., the show won’t lead you astray so you can watch without worry. Oh and let me just say - Chun Li is ma gurl! If you want to see a woman that’s not only beautiful but can also kick your ass, then watch these shows - especially Street Fight II the movie! 

2. Hajime no Ippo.

One of my most favourite sports animes of all time which tells the tale of Makunouchi Ippo and his rise up the ranks of the boxing world. He starts off as a kid that just wants to get stronger so that he can fend off the bullies who harass him. Sick of his weak self (and after a couple of incidents here and there), Ippo joins a boxing gym, starting from scratch and going through basic training. His coach sees his potential and helps shape Ippo into a power boxer who fights head on and never backs down from the fight. Throughout the series, we get to know the other boxers in the gym as well as the competitors that they face, and we watch them battle it out in the ring. It’s a story with a great balance of sports, a sprinkling of slice of life (well, the life of a boxer) and comedy. And, of course, boxing boys come with boxing bodies... and I’m not complaining! And if you enjoy this and want more, try either “Ashita no Joe” (old school classic) or it’s more recent spin-off, “Megalo Box”. Oh and in terms of strong women - no one beats Ippo’s mom! She’s a powerhouse!

3. Baki the Grappler.

More of an MMA vibe with this one - it’s about a kid (he’s like 13 when we first meet him) who has been raised to be a fighter since he was born - his mother gets him the best trainers and equipment money can buy. He eventually feels like he’s outgrown the traditional training method and starts to find other ways to become a better fighter, which includes following his fathers footsteps - training the same way he did and with the people he did - and taking on some of the other fighters he meets along the way. After an altercation with his father (using that term rather lightly), Baki’s path eventually leads to the underground fight scene where challengers can test their strength and face off against each other in an anything-goes type of fight, using whatever techniques, power and skills they have at their disposal. And Baki’s ultimate goal? To defeat his father! It’s got some family drama as the foundation, but when it comes to beefcakes, there’s no shortage here - even if it is a 17-year old kid looking like a grown-ass man. Oh, best to be aware that (excluding the OVAs) there 3 seasons of Baki - the anime series from 2001 and the 2018 Netflix version which covers the "Most Evil Death Row Convicts" arc. 

4. Kengan Ashura.

When I first started watching this, the first thing I thought was - ahhh! this reminds me of Baki! And, indeed, there are quite a few elements that are similar. There isn’t any family drama here but there is an underground fight scene where anything goes in terms of fight style. However, the premise here is that the fighters don’t fight for themselves (well, not officially anyway) but that they fight for various companies who settle their business disputes via these types of organised “kengan” matches. It eventually reaches a situation where some of the other businessmen wish to get rid of the current Kengan chairman, and so this chairman organises a huge battle royale for any companies that wish to enter. The prize? The owner of the winning company gets to be the next chairman! This sets the stage for a number of one-on-one showdowns between the various fighter representatives. In terms of background stories, we have two main protagonists and their stories. The one is about a salaryman (turned “CEO”) and his life, as well his relationship with his son, and the other is about a fighter and the vendetta he holds against another fighter for a past incident. Personally, I love the way the fights are presented in this show - not only because of the eye-candy - but because it really does feel like you’re at a grand show! Oh, and unlike Baki, at least most of the fighers are adults.

5. Golden Kamuy.

Bring on the boys! Honestly one of the most entertaining shows I’ve watched in a while (and one where I demand that there be another season at least!) and also culturally/historically interesting too. It’s set around the time of the Russo-Japanese war and follows the story of Immortal Sugimoto - a soldier who left active service and finds out that there may be Ainu gold hidden somewhere in Hokkaido. The only problem is that the map has been tattooed in pieces, onto the torsos of various prisoners, most of whom have dispersed to different areas. Nevertheless, thus begins the hunt for the map! Along the way, Sugimoto meets various people along the way - making allies with some and enemies with others - all of whom are associated with each other in interconnecting ways. And all of whom are working toward one goal - get the gold! It’s a brilliant show that’s got some fighting, some mystery, some espionage vibes, some comedy (some of which is could be considered dark and/or weird) and some feels. It balances it all out and makes for an interesting and entertaining watch. Oh, and let’s not forget - a very enjoyable watch too! Mm mm mmm...

6. All Out!!

Another sport anime here, but this time it’s rugby! As someone from a country where rugby is a staple, national sport, this was totally up my ally! The premise is similar to most other school-based sports animes - a kid who’s self-conscious about his height joins the rugby team and learns to get along with the other boys as he trains and works together with them as part of the team. This is not only so that he can help the team improve, but to also prove his own worth. The team goes through training camps and they play against other schools, getting to know some of the opposing teams’ members and establishing some rivalries along the way. It’s pretty typical fare, but damn are these boys stacked! It’s pretty accurate though since rugby is a contact sport which requires some power (and apparently some short, tight shorts) to get the job done. It’s a light watch, but that eye candy is truly sweet!

7. Tiger Mask W.

From rugby to wrestling! This actually a continuation of sorts to the original Tiger Mask and Tiger Mask II series, building on the legacy and keeping related in the same sphere, but not directly incorporating the older characters. Unfortunately, the original series is hella hard to get hold of but even without it, you can watch Tiger Mask W without much of an issue. So the story is about a guy who had decided to join a wrestling gym and was pretty happy there until the gym was destroyed by another rival gym. Vowing to take that other gym down, he strikes out on his own and eventually joins one of the national wrestling associations, working in their match roster. But it’s all so that he can reach his goal of taking down that other gym by defeating the players supported by them. Enter into the ring various wrestling friends and both friendly and unfriendly rivals (including an old friend - bromance anyone?) and you get plenty of matches, plenty of muscles and some satisfying action! They also don’t forget the female wrestlers, which is a nice touch! Another one that’s light enough to enjoy at face value - much like how you’d enjoy real wrestling too.

8. Gifuu Doudou!! Kanetsugu to Keiji. 

A historical vibe with this one - it’s actually based on the spin-off of the original manga, “Keiji” which was created by Tetsuo Hara. And if that name doesn’t ring a bell, check number 10 on this list and you’ll know who I’m talking about - that’s right, it’s the guy who worked on Hokuto no Ken - and that should immediately give you an idea as to why this show is on the list. It’s a period piece about the friendship between Maeda Keiji and Naoe Kanetsugu - both of whom found their accomplishments on the battlefield. It’s told in hindsight, where they sit together, have a drink or three and reminisce about their younger days and what it took to get to where they are now. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but it was pretty entertaining - especially when you see just how clever these guys were when it came to political maneuvering as well as in a fight. Of course, they’re pretty high in the beefcake stakes so if you like your men manly, then you’ve come to the right era. 

9. Dragon Ball series.

I’m pretty sure that I don’t have to talk about this anime, but in the interest of completeness, let me give you the wiki breakdown about what this anime is about: “The series follows the adventures of the protagonist, Son Goku, from his childhood through adulthood as he trains in martial arts. He spents his life far from civilization, until he is found by Bloomer, a teen girl who encourages him to explore the world in search of the seven orbs known as the Dragon Balls, which summon a wish-granting dragon when gathered. Along his journey, Goku makes several friends and battles a wide variety of villains, many of whom also seek the Dragon Balls.” (source). Of course, this is continued throughout the various series that follow, where Goku has his own family etc. But when it comes to the muscle factor in this show, it’s got it where it counts - everywhere! It’s a classic for a reason so even if you aren’t into beefcake guys, you should still probably watch it if you haven’t already.

10. Hokuto no Ken.

It just wouldn’t feel right if I had to leave this off the list because when someone says “manly anime”, I’m betting that 99.9% of the time most people think about Hokuto no Ken / Fist of the North Star. It’s the post-apocalyptic era and times are tough, with everyone fighting to survive with what little there is on the planet. Some guys want to be rulers, some guys want to be thugs, but one guy just wants to find his fiancee and do what he can to right the wrongs of the world and make a difference to the people he meets. That one man is, of course, Kenshiro. It’s full-tilt action, usually incorporating martial arts through the various fighting styles of the characters - whether it’s Hokuto Shinken, Nanto Seiken or sometimes just brute force and good old hand-to-hand combat. There’s a few female characters here and there who also kick ass so it isn’t completely one-sided, but they usually end up getting saved by the dudes so take that with a pinch of salt. Post-apocalyptic world or not, these guys sure can maintain their physiques. And when it comes time for a fight, you best believe they pull no punches! If you like pure fighting animes where you get to see people explode each episode, followed by the most epic line ever said in anime, then this is the one! 

Honourable mentions.

...because, can we really do without more muscular men and women in our lives?

1. Terra Formars - if you’re looking specifically for that muscular vibe, then try season 1. While I enjoyed both, season 1 had better animation (for me) and they all looked badass when defeating those nasty roaches - both the men and the ladies! 2. Hinomaru Sumo - a sports anime that revolves around a newly formed high school sumo club and the career path of the main protagonist. Informative if you don’t know much about sumo and, as expected, loads of meaty guys aiming for victory and aiming for the position of yokozuna. 3. Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure - another show that hardly requires an introduction and would probably take way too long to explain considering how many Jojo’s there are, but rest assured, the guys are packed, stacked and ready to attack! 4. One Punch Man - if only because there a few characters who fit the beefcake category perfectly, e.g. Suiryu (hello there!), Garou and Tanktop Master to name a few. An anime that’s some parts serious, some part hilarious but always flipping shounen tropes on its head. 5. Sengoku Basara - also, not completely beefed out, but there are a few characters who would make the grade, e.g. Maeda Keiji (dejavu from number 8?) and Oda Nobunaga. Another period anime, based on a Capcom game, that uses a lot of poetic licence to make it an exciting watch with very memorable characters. 6. Free! - “Make us free na Splash! Kasaneta... 👏 👏 !” Swimmers bodies - that is all. If you’ve ever seen a swimmer’s bodies in real life, you’ll know what I mean ‘cos they have muscles in all the right places. A slice-of-life sports anime that revolves around high school boys (who eventually become college boys) who engage in competitive swimming. 7. Air Master - The ladies take over in this one, which is a show that revolves around street fighting and the goal of those various street fighters and martial artists to become number 1 on the Fukamichi Rankings. It’s more of that underground fight scene vibe but the main protagonist is a gymnast-turned-street fighter who takes on anyone who’ll challenge her (man or woman) and usually kick their ass. It’s got a quirky/weird sense of humour to it, but that’s part of why I liked it.

Well, I’m pretty sure that there are other shows that I’ve missed, and mountains of characters who have that A-grade beef, but I tried to choose shows that specifically have that muscular aesthetic as a default setting in the show. Hopefully I hit the mark here, sharing my faves with you, but if there’s some show or character that I absolutely must see, feel free to let me know! Because just like Tanigaki’s shirt, I’m always open to suggestions.

[perfeggso]

Noir (yutae)

Week II pt. 1

Tokyo – fall of 1983: Nakamoto Yuta is quickly rising in the ranks of one of Japan’s most notorious yakuza families, and he’s poised to climb even further if he can stop himself from being ruined by the pretty Korean boy who’s shown up out of nowhere.

Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |  Chapter 3  |  Chapter 4  |  Chapter 5  |  Chapter 6  |  Chapter 7  |  Chapter 8  | Masterlist 

Glossary of Japanese words

Characters: Yuta x Taeyong + NCT ensemble, Twice J-line (for funsies) 

Genres: Gang!AU, angst, smut, fluff, 1980s!AU

Warnings: graphic violence, swearing, minor character death, alcohol use, mentions of drugs, period-typical homophobia, xenophobia, BDSM

Rating: 18+

Length: 4.5k (will progressively get way longer)

A “foot soldier,” as it turned out, was the smallest of small fry in the syndicate.  They were mostly responsible for manning the many front businesses that Inagawa used for small change, low-level intimidation, and charity work.  Taeyong found that he did get to carry a revolver around with him but was forbidden from using it in non-life-threatening situations because he had only been a yakuza for about a week and had only gotten the opportunity to practice firing the thing twice.  This was both for his own protection and for the protection of the gang; almost nothing could have been more damaging than the misfiring of an illegal gun by a rookie.

All Taeyong had needed to do to leave his mechanic job was to submit a letter of resignation, which in honesty was the most obvious solution.  People were allowed to resign without a specific reason – his boss didn’t own his soul.  And Taeyong wasn’t too sad to leave since he hadn’t been close to anyone working there.

After a week, Taeyong found himself leaning over a yellow plastic desk at the entrance to a miscellaneous electronics shop in Akihabara, bored to death and resigned to people-watching.  Taeyong usually avoided Akihabara because he wasn’t particularly interested in electronics nor in otaku culture.  More than that, he hated how the few times he had come to the neighborhood in the evening he’d been approached by creepy middle-ages men trying to entice him to go “chat” with some “lovely young ladies.”

But now he was here among the neon lights with nothing more to do with himself but try to look inviting to customers.  If he was being honest, part of him wanted to sabotage the whole racket by looking purposefully glum and driving people away.  Despite his sweet face, Taeyong did have an aggressive streak in him but he always considered himself principled about those who got hit by it.  For instance, swindling major corporations out of millions of yen, as he was vaguely aware that Inagawa did, seemed perfectly ethical to him.  Selling faulty electronics to innocent working-class people on the other hand…

“Taeyong!” Mark yelled from behind him, forcing him out of his contemplative rabbit hole of Robin Hood ethics.

Taeyong turned around to see Mark walking up to him, a stack of colorful business cards in one hand and a badminton racket and shuttlecock in the other.  What a fuckin’ weirdo , thought Taeyong, although he couldn’t help but like the guy.

Mark had been the first person Taeyong had spoken to as an unofficial member, he supposed, of the Inagawa-kai, as he was the one responsible for escorting Taeyong back to his apartment and spending the night there to ensure that he did not try to run away or go to the authorities.  Taeyong didn’t sleep that night because his head was full of too many questions, and Mark wasn’t allowed to, so the two instead got to talking – as much as they could given the supreme awkwardness of the situation, anyway.        

“What do you need?” Taeyong asked and in response, Mark passed him the stack of cards as if that were an explanation.  Before he got around to illustrating his intentions with words, he began bouncing the shuttlecock against his racket, twisting the string bed 180 degrees between each contact.

“I need you to stand on the sidewalk and hand these out to people,” he finally said, still focused on his game. “They say we’re having a promotional sale.  It’s supposed to drum up more business which we can handle with the three of us here instead of two.  But for this to work, you need to stop scowling.  Show off that charming smile of yours.”

Mark was sure a cheeky bugger.  If Taeyong did stick around in this gang, he’d eventually use his age advantage to mess with the kid once their gap in experience wasn’t so large.

“Was this your idea?” Taeyong asked.

Mark shook his head no, pausing his game of hand-eye coordination.  “It was our Shategashira ’s.”  

“Nakamoto?”

“Hasn’t he told you to use his title?  Or just Yuta if you want to use his name.”

Taeyong huffed a sigh.  This ‘ Shategashira ’ of his had really become an exasperating figure in his life over the past week.  They’d barely interacted, but the coolness and ease with which Yuta always addressed him made him feel funny; as if he truly had no control over the trajectory of his life anymore simply because he was dumb enough to follow some sounds in an alley.  But who was he kidding?  His life might as well lead him to being in a gang.  Wasn’t that what he’d always wanted?  And anyway, there was a reason the Inagawa-kai had an entire Korean division and some Korean leadership.  Taeyong had just imagined more bombastic motorcycle rides and fewer junk computers.

“Yeah I remember now,” Taeyong said, shuffling the business cards in his hands and making his way out from behind his desk.  “So how do I get people to take these?”

Mark walked with him to the front of the shop, his hand on the older man’s shoulder.  “Just smile and say ��promotional sale: premium consumer electronics.  This week only,' or some shit and try to get these into the hands of everyone who walks near you.  I think you can handle it.”

“I will try,” said Taeyong.

He found it was easier to get people to take the cards than he had expected, although his success didn’t seem to go further than that, as most people who took a card only regarded Taeyong with a confused scowl once they had it in their hands.  After about an hour, a woman came walking towards Taeyong on his side of the street, and she was truly the first person Taeyong fully noticed his whole shift.  He noticed her because no one could have not: she was slightly taller than average, especially in heels, with long black hair blown out, a green bodycon dress, black heels, and a gold chain necklace.  Taeyong thought she might have the prettiest face he’d ever seen on a woman.  He also noticed her because she was staring right at him as she approached.  Taeyong wasn’t fazed because he was used to nice looking girls coming onto him.  They would inevitably be put off either by his ethnicity or by his lack of interest in them – whichever they perceived first – and then bad things would happen.  However, the intensity in this woman’s gaze felt different as she came to stand just a few feet away.

“Momo-hime??” Taeyong heard Mark yell from somewhere within the store.  Huh?   Soon enough both he and Jungwoo had emerged and were greeting the gorgeous young woman.  Taeyong stayed frozen to his post because he didn’t know what to make of the situation nor of his role in it.  She was a ‘princess’ anyway.  What business did a street rat have introducing himself to her?

Soon, though, Taeyong found he didn’t have to.  She exchanged a few words with his coworkers, and they nodded, pointing her his way.

“Lee Taeyong,” said the woman, bowing once she had finally gotten close enough to greet him.  “I’m Hirai Momo.  It’s good to meet you.  Yuta told me you had been brought on.”

Taeyong was so confused he felt like he was floating, but he bowed back despite himself.  “Nice to meet you too.”  The name Hirai sounded familiar but Taeyong took a moment to place it.  Then, like being slapped in the face, his brain found the missing puzzle piece that allowed him to make an association.  The Hirai family ran the entire operation, didn’t they?  Shit .            

“Why are you here, Neechan ?” asked Jungwoo.

Momo smiled.  “Yuta sent me to retrieve you, Taeyong,” she answered, causing Mark and Jungwoo to raise their eyebrows in unison.

Taeyong could feel the blood rush through his veins, and it felt cold.  “I – did I do something?”

“Don’t worry,” Momo assured.  “Everything’s alright.  Yuta-san just wants to make sure you’re adjusting alright and to have you get some more target practice in with your new piece.  How does that sound?”

Yuta was turning out to be the most involved boss Taeyong had ever had.  He still had no idea what was going on, but at least he wasn’t in trouble and if he was being honest, he liked firing the gun and looked forward to another sanctioned opportunity.  Taeyong chided himself as he noticed a piece of his mind wondering churlishly what this girl was to Yuta.  That doesn’t pertain to you , he told himself.  

“That’s fine,” he said.

“Great,” said Momo, winking like a girl from an animated television show or something.  “So, you’ll go to headquarters and meet him right after your shift, got it?”

Got it.

***

The Inagawa-kai Tokyo headquarters was located in a simple, box-shaped black building on the edge of Aoyama.  It wasn’t a short structure – it had about seven stories – but compared to much of Tokyo’s architecture it remained strategically unassuming.  Once inside the building, a tall man with dark hair and a patchwork of tattoos and scars across his exposed skin approached Taeyong and told him he would escort him to the meeting.  At first Taeyong didn’t recognize him because he hadn’t gotten a good look the first time, but he soon realized that his companion was one of the men who had essentially arrested him a week ago, a fact which made his throat tighten.  Taeyong also cautiously noted that the man had a fresh stump of a pinky finger on his right hand covered in bandages.  Must have gotten in a bad fight.

The man led Taeyong down a series of identical concrete hallways until they reached a sliding door made of oak, at which point he left Taeyong to enter the room by himself.  Taeyong hesitated for a moment but was stunned into action when he heard Yuta’s expressive voice anticipate his presence from inside with the simple utterance of two syllables.

“ Douzo .”

Within, Yuta sat at the same desk where Taeyong had first met him, surrounded by expensive Scandinavian furnishings, walls of glass and concrete, and a pristine bonsai tree on a ledge behind him.  Yuta himself wore black pants, a silk shirt, and a yellow velvet smoking jacket of all things.  Taeyong felt something twist in his gut at the sight of him and his intent gaze but decided to file the feeling away somewhere very deep for the purposes of later contemplation.

“ Shategashira !” Taeyong greeted with a salute, as he was now pretty sure he was expected to.  “Would you like me to sit, sir?”

“At ease,” said Yuta, waving him off and letting Taeyong relax a bit.  “No need.  I’ll accompany you to the range right now, if that’s alright.”

“Of course, Shategashira .”

And with that, Taeyong let himself be led back under the florescent lights of the complex’s maze-like hallways.

“How are you adjusting, Taeyong?” asked Yuta.

Taeyong was constantly surprised that the couple times he had seen Yuta since their initial meeting, he always made sure to check up on him.  He didn’t know what to make of this.  He guessed it was just standard practice – a measure to make him feel protected and ensure his devotion, or something of the sort.

“It’s alright, I guess,” Taeyong responded.  “I like Mark and Jungwoo.  Johnny seems like a good guy too.  In all honesty, I don’t have a lot to do right now.  But I do appreciate having the position at all!”  Taeyong’s tone was absolutely all over the place, not knowing where to stand between familiar and deferent.  Taeyong thought he saw his little speech provoke a smile in Yuta, and suddenly that knot in his stomach was back.  Well, fuck.

Yuta spoke.  “I acknowledge that you don’t have the most exciting posting.  But that’s partially why I wished to speak with you today.  After you.”

Yuta left that tease there.  They had come to the end of a hallway to an orange door with chipping paint and a black symbol indicating that protective equipment for eyes and ears was recommended inside.  Yuta held it open and Taeyong passed through.

Once in the vestibule of the shooting range, Taeyong set himself up where he was supposed to stand and aimed his revolver at the target on the other end of the room as Yuta leaned against an acid-white wall with his arms crossed and his chin raised slightly.

“Relax your shoulders,” Yuta said, and Taeyong cleared his throat, shimmying his shoulders lower on his back in response.  He took a deep breath and focused on the red bull’s eye placed on the heart of a human-shaped target, both hands on the gun.  He had to refrain from grinding his teeth.

“Wait until you’re ready,” Yuta coached, voice low and commanding, “then focus your energy and count down from three before you pull the trigger.  Simple as that.”

“Yes, Shategashira .” Taeyong did as he was told, steadying himself, focusing his eyes on his target, and counting 3…2…1… BANG!

Taeyong felt himself sway backwards for a moment after firing but regained his balance quickly – something he had not done the first time he had shot the thing.  That time, he ended up on his butt, confused and embarrassed as Mark thrashed around on the wall in a fit of performative laughter.  The practice he’d had since then had helped, but so did the pressure of Yuta’s gaze.

After a moment, Taeyong heard clapping coming from next to him and he realized he had been closing his eyes.  When he opened them, he saw that a chunk of the wooden target was missing on its inner thigh.

“We can work with that,” Yuta remarked, finishing his short round of applause.  “Certainly enough to cripple, and that’s important.  However, I get the sense you weren’t aiming there, hm?”

Taeyong’s breathing fumbled when Yuta began to stalk towards him.  “What we need is to teach you some precision and confidence,” he explained. “We’ve got to work on your kill shot.  Do you mind?”

Yuta was asking for the gun, so Taeyong handed it over with an “of course, Shategashira .”        

Yuta took a sideways stance, holding the revolver out with one arm, and proceeded to shoot five times in fast succession, obliterating the plywood head of the target cutout until it was nothing more than splinters.  Taeyong did not care to imagine it as belonging to a real human.  When he had finished, Yuta turned to regard Taeyong, and to Taeyong’s surprise and horror, he broke out into a wide grin.  God , thought Taeyong, I’m alone with a psychopath and a gun .  Although, once that thought had passed, Taeyong couldn’t help admiring the princely charm of the way the smile had spread like a sunrise over Yuta’s face.  What the fuck was going on?  

“You see?” said Yuta, ebullient, “you’ll be doing that soon enough.”

Soon enough .  Right, Taeyong would need to sort out his future, and soon.

“Let’s try again.  Go back to your stance.  We’re going to stay with two hands for now.”

Taeyong took the gun back and repositioned himself in his starting position, holding the weapon with his outstretched arms and lining it up with his sternum.  Yuta came up beside him and held his hands over Taeyong’s shoulders.

“May I?” he asked, and Taeyong nodded, allowing Yuta to press down onto his shoulders and straighten his spine.  Taeyong could feel the other man’s breath and it was sending his nerves into a state he did not need them to be in, heat crawling up his neck.      

“Do the countdown again,” Yuta instructed, “deep breath, and then fire.  Don’t let your eyes close, alright?  And try to stay still as much as possible.  You can if you really engage your core.”

Taeyong nodded at all the advice and tried to follow it – attempting also to avoid noticing the watchful smile blooming on Yuta’s face in his peripheral vision.  He took in a deep breath of the room’s stale air and counted down again, eyes trained on the cutout’s heart and intent not to shut.

A BANG rang out once more throughout the vestibule.            

Taeyong did narrowly refrain from closing his eyes, but they seemed to have gone out of focus.  Once he blinked the fuzziness from them, as if erasing an etch-a-sketch, he could see that he’d succeeded in blowing a hole through his target’s crotch.

Yuta giggled and slapped Taeyong over his right shoulder.  Taeyong’s head spun.  Was he supposed to be scared of this literal mob boss or not?

“I have a hunch you weren’t aiming there either, huh?” Yuta asked, and Taeyong shook his head no.  “That’d definitely be an effective shot though, wouldn’t it?  Might actually be better than aiming for the heart in some situations because you can make them talk while they bleed out.”

Holy shit.   In an instant, Taeyong became painfully aware of his reality.  He was practicing shooting because he might be in a situation where he’d need to – where others would be aiming at him the same way he was aiming at this outline of a man.  What if it was him who got shot in the heart, or worse, shot in the dick and forced to bleed out horrifically?  Taeyong felt lightheaded but managed to squeeze enough air from his lungs to speak.

“Do you mind me asking you a question, if it’s not too forward?”

Yuta raised an eyebrow.  “Shoot,” he said, obviously amused by his own word play.

“Why am I here?” asked Taeyong.  “What am I doing here now?  What am I training for?”  That was three questions, but oh well.  Taeyong didn’t feel like being measured.

Yuta sighed and cocked his head, eyes fluttering to regard the floor.

“I had a feeling this would come up,” he said, smiling wryly this time.  “Keep practicing and I’ll fill you in.”

Taeyong nodded and prepared to shoot again, hitting the target’s left shoulder this time when he pulled the trigger.

“Getting closer to the heart,” Yuta observed, appreciative.  “You see, Taeyong, there are only two favorable outcomes for you now that this ball has gotten rolling.”  Taeyong relaxed his arms and watched Yuta begin to pace, his face steeled by caution.

“The first, which would be preferable to the family, is that you stay on with the Inagawa-kai and devote yourself to our line of work.  However, I understand that what has happened was not your choosing, and you may want to return to your normal life as soon as possible.  Whichever path you choose eventually matters little to what I need you to do for now, so don’t worry about it yet.” Yuta paused, giving Taeyong a moment to recover from the way his emotions had just gone topsy-turvy like his image in a funhouse mirror.  Then Yuta gestured towards the gun Taeyong was now pointing at the rubber floor.  “Please continue,” he said.  Taeyong hit the target in its stomach and caught a hum of approval from Yuta.    

“Either way,” Yuta went on, “you will need to establish trust here.  Even if you want to leave, you will have to stay on long enough and perform well enough to prove that we can trust you to be an ally even in the civilian world.  Does that make sense, Taeyong?”

Bang! Left hip.

“It does,” Taeyong replied, resigned.  This was all his own fault anyway.  He couldn’t help his curiosity though.  “Is this something that happens often?”

Yuta chuckled slightly.  Bang! Sternum.  Taeyong was quickly gaining enough balance and confidence to keep himself still while firing.

“Similar situations have occurred although we obviously try to avoid them.  For instance, the two men who brought you in to me have been duly reprimanded for their carelessness.”  

Taeyong was preparing to fire as Yuta said this and was immediately thrown off when his mind returned to the image of his abductor’s freshly severed finger, putting two and two together.  Is that what a mistake gets you here? Worse, did Yuta purposefully assign that guy to escort Taeyong as some kind of warning? Taeyong was already pressing down on the trigger when this thought came to him and it caused him to misfire wildly, hitting the wall on the other end of the range a few feet from the target.

“Fuck!”

“Do you need me to stop talking?” Yuta asked.

Taeyong held the gun in his left hand while shaking out the wrist of his right, as if the problem had been purely physiological.  “No!  Er – sorry, just give me a moment please, Shategashira .”

“That’s alright,” said Yuta.  “You’re doing pretty well for a beginner.  Take a break for a bit.”

Taeyong nodded, feeling defeated but somewhat relieved.    

“Similar situations,” he mused “Like what?  If you don’t mind telling me.”

“Take Jungwoo, for example.  He worked for a circuitry and computing firm that was under our thumb.  He knew nothing about it – he was simply a technician and didn’t have access to the books – but when the small company had defied our understanding with them one too many times, Jungwoo happened to be unlucky enough to witness the consequences.  We gave him the option to make it up to us by working for us.  It was difficult for him at first, but now his closest friends are in our ranks and he gets to do what he loves while never needing to worry about money.  So, it worked out in the end.”

Jungwoo, huh?   Taeyong had thought the guy seemed a bit too cheery to be a natural gangster.

“I see.  I don’t really have a thing though, that I love doing, you know?”

Yuta shrugged, then smiled in a way that was meant to be reassuring.

“Well, you may not love it, but you know about vehicle mechanics, right?  That will be useful to us.  However, to be honest I do feel for you, Taeyong, I really do.  You caught my attention immediately and have weighed on my conscience.  I want to help you make the best of this, and the best thing you can do now is quickly prove your loyalty both to me and to the people I work for.  That way, you will get the most flexibility in the least time.  That’s why I’m scheming to fast-track you to that point.”

Taeyong was mystified as to why his superior, who had implicitly threatened him into becoming a yakuza in the first place, was being so nice to him; so reasonable.

“What does that mean?” Taeyong asked, eyes going wide in anticipation.

Yuta leaned back against the wall and watched Taeyong from under his bangs.  “I’m in the middle of a project that it would be nice if someone helped me with.  It’s not inherently dangerous and it’ll give you a good idea of how we operate.  If you do a good job you will both understand the world you’re now living in and if you want to stay in it, and hopefully, gain enough trust to be allowed to make that decision when the time comes.”

Taeyong’s thumb skimmed nervously over the textured handle of his revolver, eyes searching the vestibule for some sense of reality.  He felt almost dizzy with exhilaration at the idea of helping Yuta out and spending more time with him - studying him.  “What’s the project?” he asked.

“An investigation.”

“An investigation…” Taeyong repeated.  What did he know about investigations?

“Yes,” said Yuta, “I’m gathering information on a certain executive at one of the nation’s largest companies.  For blackmailing purposes.”

Taeyong almost laughed at how upfront Yuta was about this.

“Okay…”

“Is that a yes?”

“Do I have a choice?” Asked Taeyong.  Yuta smiled, something almost predatory in his expression.  “What would I have to do?”

“Accompany me when I go out following leads, be my lookout and my sounding board for ideas when no one else is free to help.  You can be more involved depending on how well you do with that.  Think you can handle it?”

That didn’t sound too out of the box for things Taeyong could do.  Besides, Yuta had said “lookout” not “bodyguard” or something.  Taeyong was used to fighting, but his dustups were usually with hoodlums from Shin-Ōkubo, not with armed career criminals.

Taeyong nodded.  “Yeah,” he said.  “Yeah I can.”

Yuta pushed himself off the wall.  “Perfect.  Before we finish here though, I’d like to get you to hit your target.”

The way Yuta said it so flatly made it clear to Taeyong that this was a command, not a suggestion.

“Yes, Shategashira .”      

“I think I know how to help,” said Yuta, “it’s something I used to do when practicing.  Do you have someone you want that to be?  Someone you hate so much it makes your toes curl?  Makes you want to smell their blood?”

Taeyong pictured the leader of the Specters – the boy who’d beaten him black and blue until he couldn’t hear or think; the boy who had only refrained from dragging Taeyong from a chain on the back of a car when he heard sirens coming for him, and all because Taeyong had dared to be zainichi .  Sure, Taeyong wouldn’t mind a little payback.  He nodded at Yuta, both men’s eyes going dark and focusing on the target.

“Good,” said Yuta, placing his hands on Taeyong’s shoulders and squeezing.  This time, Taeyong’s mind had gone too cold to let the contact affect him.  “Now, don’t let them get away with anything less than a bullet to the heart.”

With that, Yuta pushed away and Taeyong imagined his victim, ugly smug face and rising sun headband appearing in his mind’s eye with chilling detail.  Relax, breathe out, 3, 2, 1, BANG!

Taeyong was steady as the bullet passed an inch or so from the bullseye and the sight caused a great sense of relief to wash over him, like stepping into a hot tub on a snowy day.

When he turned around, Yuta was watching him with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest.

“When do I start, Shategashira ?” asked Taeyong.

Yuta’s smirk morphed into what Taeyong could only describe as a proud grin.  “You start now.”    

[nahalism]

Songs that make you want to experience love (of any kind) or remind you of it??

u just opened pandoras box.. like.. u think ur ready, but ur not ready. and i cant apologise for what im about to do because what song isnt a love song?.. you have proposed an existential question & for that i refuse to keep this uncompletable task concise. hold on 2 ur toupee, clutch ur peals 🤧

verdena // valvonauta

the nerves // hanging on the telephone

dionne warwick // walk on by

luther vandross // anyone who had a heart

stevie wonder // all in love is fair, never dreamed youd leave in summer, lately, superwoman (where were you when i needed you)

ms lauryn hill // i gotta find peace of mind

lenny williams // cause i love you

donny hathaway // ill love you more than you ever know (& the amy winehouse cover of this)

eva cassidy, autumn leaves

nina simone // you dont know what love is, just say i love him, you can have him, everything must change

chet baker // my funny valentine, almost blue, the autumn leaves

the police // roxanne

amy winehouse // take the box, wake up alone, you sent me flying, stronger than me

nat king cole // nature boy, smile, the very thought of you

etta james // id rather go blind

gladys knight & the pipps // midnight train to georgia

al green // how can you mend a broken heart, lets stay together

janis joplin // maybe

anita baker // angel

simply red // holding back the years, you make me feel brand new

luther vandross // a house is not a home

deniece williams //  free, silly 

boyz II men // i cant make you love me

michel’le // something in my heart

patrice rushen // remind me

toni braxton // another sad love song, breathe again

tamar braxton // all the way home, love and war

the delfonics // lala means i love you, hey love

bobby womack // if you think your lonely now

rick james ft teena marie // fire and desire

the gap band // yearning for your love

jahiem // ghetto love, could it be

mariah carey // anytime you need a friend, my all

tamia // stuck with me, so into you

shai // if i ever

new edition // can you stand the rain, if it isnt love

ATL // make it up with love

blackstreet // dont leave me

bow wow // let me hold you, my baby

jhene aiko // feel like a man, wait no more, my mine, you vs them

twenty88 // 2 minute warning

corrine bailey rae // the whole of her self titled album

yebba // my mind

neyo // do you, part of the list

erykah badu // green eyes, other side of the game, next lifetime, in love with you, out my mind just in time

keyshia cole // send from heaven, love, i should have cheated, trust and believe

whitney houston // i learned from the best, run to you, saving all my love, im your baby tonight

michael jackson // lady in my life, break of dawn, butterlies, baby be mine, keep it in the closet, who is it, give in to me, rock with you .. etc etc etc

abba // lay all your love on me

seal // kiss from a rose

patrick swayze // shes like the wind

phil collins // in the air tonight

the police // roxanne

tracy chapman // fast car, baby can i hold you

james blunt // 1973

chris isaak // wicked game

fleetwood mac // rihannon, dreams janis ian // at 17

googoo dolls // iris (duh)

oasis // wonderwall (duhh x2)

dido // white flag

joni mitchell // both sides now, a case of you

randy crawford // almaz, one day ill fly away

little dragon // never never, twice

lana del rey // video games, blue jeans

london grammar // hey i, wasting my young years

ellie goulding // starry eyes (acoustic), guns & horses (acoustic)

avril lavigne // when your gone, im with you

paramore // misguided ghosts, decode

hiatus kaiyote // the lung

jorja smith // wandering romance, goodbyes

kelsey lu // dreams

kelela // all the way down, turn to dust, enough, better, take me apart

king krule // slush puppy, many more

SiR ft masego // ooh nah nah

fka twigs // papi pacify

steve lacy // dark red

iamddb // more

abra // pride

sonder x brent faiyaz // lovely

pharoah sanders // harvest time

james blake // wilhelm scream

portico quartet // the visitor

kokoroko // ti de

funkadelic // maggot brain, ill stay

collard // everglade

feng suave // honey theres no time, by the poolside

mac demarco // still beating, my kind of woman, let her go, let my baby stay, one more love song

connan mockasin // do i make you feel shy

gas dapperton // prune, you talk funny

blood orange // saint, out of your league, best to you, never good enough

majid jordan // her, u, king city, warm

japanese breakfast // triple 7, the woman that loves you, everybody wants to love you

frank ocean // higgs *or just insert his whole discog*

daniel ceasar // japanese denim

xavier omar // speculate

sza // pretty little birds, caretaker ft dram, babylon, warm winds, 2 am, passport

jeremih // british headboards, worthy ft. jhene aiko, raindrops, & obvs bday sex

j cole // runaway, shes mine pt1 & 2

travis scott // astrothunder

drake // come winter, cameras/good ones go, doing it wrong, east district... anything ending in interlude .. *again, insert practically any of his songs*

tory lanez // 1 call

partynextdoor // tbh, wus good/curious, west district, rendezvous, wednesday night interlude, persian rugs, spiteful, cant let the summer pass, her way, thirsty, muse, the right way

serani // do you good (!!!)

miguel // girl with the dragon tattoo, pussy is mine

vybz kartel & gaza slim // anything a anything

movado // when yuh feel lonely

nicki minaj // save me, i lied, autobiography

tokio hotel // monsoon

my chemical romance // the ghost of you, helena

nickelback // how you remind me & someday

whilst she sleeps // seven hills, our courage our cancer

pierce the veil // stained glass eyes and colourful tears, i dont care if your contageous, im low on gas and you need a life jacket, southern constellations, the new national anthem, bulls in the bronx, caraphernalia, disasterology

(& lol dont roast me but id b lying if i didnt include dem)

vanessa ann hugends // say ok :) 

lmnt // open your eyes

edward mccain // ill be

jesse mccartney // im leavin (lol dont roast me)

lindsay lohan freaky friday songz (?) // the ultimate, take me away

[krinsbez]

GI Joe: Remixed, Semi-Random Trivia, About Semi-Random Joes

An incomplete list of Joes who are members of minority groups; please make suggestions for additions, as there are many, many Joes with whom I am unfamiliar:

(some of these placements will be elaborated on below)

AFRICAN-AMERICAN:

Stalker

Roadblock

Doc

Doc II

Alpine

Stretcher

Hardball

Iceberg

Heavy Duty

Big Lob

Freight

Quick Stryke

Grill

Cool Breeze

Ripcord

ASIAN-AMERICAN:

Jinx

Quick Kick

Budo

Tunnel Rat

Ronin

Rico

Firewall

Black Dragon (?)

DESI:

Hashtag

LATINO:

Shipwreck

Law

Lady Jaye

Alpine

Dynamite

Hot Sauce

ARAB-AMERICAN:

Breaker

Sgt. Slaughter

NATIVE AMERICAN:

Spirit

Airborne

PACIFIC ISLANDER:

Torpedo

Red Dog

SIKH:

Hashtag

JEWISH:

Clutch

Bazooka

Budo

ISLAMIC:

Breaker

Sgt. Slaughter

QUAKER:

Lifeline

NEURO-ATYPICAL:

Helix

-Sgt. Slaughter is NOT the professional wrestler born Robert Remus, but received his codename due to a coincidental resemblance to said pro wrestler. That said, he did wrestle in college, where he majored in Classics. Note that he is still serious about his classics studies; he is fluent in both Ancient Greek and Latin, and is knowledgeable about not only Classical literature, but also the history, mythology, culture, etc. of Ancient Greece and Ancient Rome.

-Alpine is mixed-race, having African-American, Caucasian, and Latin ancestry; people's efforts to pin him down to one or the other and inability to do so is a constant source of amusement to him.

-Lady Jaye is biracial; her father is as WASP as one can be without being a Boston Brahmin (although they're adjacent), while her mother is from Latin America; note that her mother's family is also filthy rich and aristocratic. Also, she's a distant cousin of Destro and Darklon.

-Rico is a character of our own creation, a Fillipina-American who's primary MOS is powered armor, specifically the Accelerator suit from Rise of Cobra

-Firewall is a young, Asian woman ala DDP rather than an older, Caucasian woman ala IDW.

-Riffing on Rise of Cobra, Breaker's parents are from Morocco.

-Budo periodically notes that both sets of grandparents spent WWII in camps; his paternal grandparents in an internment camp, his maternal grandparents in a concentration camp.

-Ripcord and Cover Girl have more-or-less their IDW backstories.

-Lifeline's aikido skills are such that he's one of the top ten best hand-to-hand combatants in GI Joe. Granted, his pacifist beliefs mean he rarely showcases them; "getting Lifeline in the ring" is a Joe colloquialism for a task that is very difficult and unlikely to end well for you.

-As with many other military regulations, the rules against fraternization are not strictly enforced for Joes, so Flint/Lady Jaye, Scarlett/Snake Eyes, and Jinx/Falcon are things.

-Dial-Tone and Hard Drive are A: female, and B: hot.

-Dial-Tone is the nerdiest nerd to ever nerd, or at least, as much as possibly whilst being an attractive woman. She also barely qualified to be a Joe physically. That said, she did, in fact, qualify, and is thus eminently capable of kicking your ass.

-Clockspring is kinda a creeper. He hasn't done anything explicitly against the regs, but he's come veeery close. As a result, Hard Drive, Firewall, Dial-Tone, and Hashtag frequently receive sympathy from other female Joes about having to work with him, which leaves them confused, because while Clockspring is aware of their gender, he slots them into his head as fellow nerds and doesn't creep on them at all.

-Clockspring also posts on a number of Incel/MRA/RedPill sites, although he keeps getting banned for telling other posters to take it down a few notches.

-Quick Kick has always been a movie guy; he got into martial arts because he realized that Hollywood is kinda racist and expects Asian-American performers to know chop socky stuff. That said, he turned out to be better at it than at acting, so ended up becoming a stunt double. Then the Cobra War happened, he joined the Army and eventually ended up in GI Joe.

-Freight, somewhat similarly, was a star linebacker, who walked away from a multi-million dollar contract to enlist when the Cobra War began. He greatly dislikes being compared to Pat Tillman.

-Contrary to what you'd expect, Freight and Red Dog (who could've been a star if he hadn't been tossed out of the NFL for frequent unnecessary roughness) get along really well.

-GI Joe's first fighter ace, somewhat ironically, was not Ace (who's codename comes form being a card shark), but Slipstream. However, Ace was the first Joe to become Ace In A Day.

-No one can remember Ghostrider The Stealth Pilot's codename, which he is surprisingly OK with, as long as they don't call him by someone else's codename...whereupon he will start calling that person by someone else's codename.

-All the Joe pilots are qualified to fly all Joe aircraft, with the possible exceptions of the Defiant and SHARCs, so Wild Bill can fly a Skystriker and Ace can fly a Tomahawk and Lift-Ticket can fly a Phantom and Ghostrider The Stealth Pilot can fly a Mudfighter and Dogfight can fly a Vector and Maverick can fly a C-130 or Dragonfly, etc.

-Quick Kick holds regular movie nights; Sgt. Slaughter is banned due to his habit of pointing out all the inaccuracies whenever QK puts on a sword-and-sandal flick.

-Roadblock and Heavy Duty are cousins. In addition to their size (which is not just "big" but freakishly its-a-miracle-they-don't-have-health-problems HUGE) and fondness for MOAR DAKKA, they also share a passion for cooking. Roadblock is a master chef, specializing in Soul Food and French haute cuisine (both nouvelle and classique), though he's also excellent at classic Italian and most American regional specialties. In general, Heavy Duty is almost as good and in some cases better (he is an internationally ranked sushi chef, for example), but rather than rely on a standard repertoire, he prefers to experiment, either with exotic foreign or newly-invented dishes he's just heard of or bizarre creations of his own; his success is...mixed.

-Quick Kick has a habit of reciting quotes from Little Caesar every time he runs into Rico in a hallway or whatever. She does not know that's what he's doing and is generally puzzled by the whole thing.

-Mainframe has a thing going on with Zarana.

-When Jinx and Falcon started dating, they got shovel speeches from Duke and Snake Eyes, respectively (yes, despite Snake Eyes being unable to talk). In addition, Storm Shadow kidnapped Falcon...then took him out to dinner, cuz he wanted to get to know his cousin's boyfriend. And because Falcon is Falcon, they ended up bar/club-hopping. Meanwhile, Duke, who only knew his baby brother was abducted by Cobra Commander's personal assassin, was ready to start World War III.

-Cross-Country believes he has a duty to reclaim the family honor he believes was lost when his ancestors took up arms to fight for slavery. His choice of outfit is bait, to trick racists and CSA apologists to make themselves known to him so he can punch them in the face.

-Quick Kick has a Japanese father and a Korean mother. As a result, when he fights the Red Ninjas, they call him a half-breed and talk shit about his mom. He deals with it by kicking their asses.

-Clutch and Rock'n'Roll are best buds. Ditto Bazooka and Alpine. Also Leatherneck and Wetsuit, albeit of the vitriolic kind where they fight constantly.

-Shipwreck is a SEAL.

-Clutch and Budo once went out together to get tattoos of their grandparent's numbers.

-Quick Kick took it upon himself to put together a crash course in cinema since the '70s for Sgt. Savage, and had to be reminded that showing him movies about Vietnam maybe wasn't the best idea.

-Grand Slam, Sci-Fi, and Red Spot are SF/F nerds. Flash is not, and gets annoyed when people assume he is.

-Spirit does not look particularly stereotypical.

-Among GI Joe's many secret mini-bases is one located in a Las Vegas casino; Ace regularly requests a transfer there, as it is the only way he will ever be allowed into a Las Vegas Casino.

-Airborne is genuinely psychic. That said, he's not very powerful; he just has "hunches" that are always right.

-Clutch has an unfortunate habit of running into secret Cobra activity whenever he goes on leave. Seriously, Every. Single. Time.

-Order is much, much more obedient than Junkyard, partially due to natural temperament but largely because Law trained him that way; Law's...kinda contemptuous of the fact that Mutt has not similarly trained Junkyard, and the two of them don't really get along because of it.

-Falcon used to hate Shipwreck, because every strategy he came up with to try and smuggle hookers into the Pit failed because 'Wreck had already tried it. Though, he's mellowed out about it since he started dating Jinx.

-Snake Eyes is under orders to have regular therapy sessions with Psyche-Out (because for obvious reason he's kind of a mess, psychologically); that Etch-a-Sketch is real handy.

-GI Joe has official social media, run by Hashtag, of course. However, the Joes take turns running the official GI Joe twitter account which leads to WMG from the people following trying to figure out who is doing it at any given time, which leads to the Joes deliberately trying to do it in other Joe's style. So, say, Shipwreck will fill it up with rhymes about cooking so people will think it's Roadblock, and Roadblock will do it in French and keep mentioning gumbo and gators so people think it's Gung Ho, and Gung-Ho keeps throwing in Star Wars references so people think it's Sci-Fi, etc. Duke hates doing it, so is very terse, so everyone always assumes he's Snake Eyes (which is hilarious to people who know Snake, who was an inveterate chatterbox before he became mute).

-Note that they also are allowed to have their own social media.

-Cover Girl's social media is a battleground, between her fans from her modeling/reality-show days and her fans since joining GI Joe.

-Heavy Duty has a youtube show where he discusses his cooking experiments. The episodes where Roadblock guest-stars are the most popular, since you now have a 100% chance of the result being edible instead of 50/50.

-Snake Eyes has a Twitter account under his real name, which is really, really active, and really, really inane, because he needs some outlet for his natural chatterbox tendencies.

-As stated, Duke does not believe in social media. As a result, there is a bit of a competition amongst the Joes to trick him into appearing on theirs.

-Cross-Country has a blog where he calls out Confederate apologists. He's been banned from multiple Civil War forums and subreddits and such for flaming same.

-Barbecue mostly goes on about Boston sports

[thefanficmistress]

This One Night ☾ : Part II

Requested by: The beautiful and sweet @thedarlingwriter : You always show me so much love and support. Thank you for the request.

“I have a request that I would like for you do. I have a title, but I want you to write the fanfic. I was going to do it but I want to see how you do it because I love how you write. It’s called This One Night. You can make it a one shot or a miniseries if you want. Reader meets Richard Armitage in a night club…”

Summary: You discover that your boyfriend cheated on you again and you dump him. Your friends decide to take you out to a new nightclub to get you back in high spirits, and you decide that this one night you will not be yourself. You will be reckless, sexy, and take chances that you would not normally take and then you spot Richard.

WARNING: Smut, angst, fluff, & more fluff & more angst, and did I mention more fluff?  No? Well there will be fluff.

Authors Notes: I hope I do this right, and I hope that you enjoy it.

Pairing: Richard X Reader

FOLLOW THE STORY :

Part 1

TAGLIST : @deepestfirefun @shikin83 @armitageadoration @patanghill17 @calaena-banrion @xxbyimm @nowiloveandwilllove @jesgisborne @raindrops-on-roses142 @abiwim @maybetomorrowgirl @catthefearless @w1tchywrit3r

Part 2

________________________

You finally reach the club. It was called “Starlight” Sofie, Jessica, Liz and you get out of the cab and walk to the entrance. The line was long, and the bouncer was checking names of the list as he let people in. Some people got in on looks, while others were turned away for wearing the wrong thing. So, you all walked up, and Sofie made her move. She sauntered up hips swaying, with all the attitude of a privileged girl her age has and ran her fingers in her blonde hair.  Touching his large arm, and pressing her chest against him, she giggles a few sweet words, laughed at his joke, and you all were in.

Inside the club it was like dancing on the Northern Lights; smoke swirled an array of blues, acid greens, hot pinks and gold. The music played over the dance floor as if had fused with the bodies. The ceiling was completely black with thousands of tiny little dots of light that were scattered out to resemble a night sky. It was beautiful, and a bit cold, but to be honest you weren't dancing yet, or had a drink in your hand. A problem you would soon rectify. You and the girls lock arms and made your way to the bar. 

You reached the bar with the girls, and immediately a young handsome lad, with a septum piercing, bright blonde hair pulled up in a man bun, dressed all in black walked up. He rolled up the black sleeves, to reveal his tattooed sleeved arms. Beautiful, colorful swirling designs, with Japanese letters, Sakura flowers, lace, and koi fish. It was stunning. He was stunning.

“G’day! What can I get you lovely ladies tonight?” he said, with an Australian drawl. Putting both hands flat on the bar await the orders.

“Vodka Cranberry with a round of Jager bombs.” Said Liz, and she slipped into the empty bar stool before her. Crossing her long leg over the other and tossing her black hair over her shoulder. She was a spectacular looking girl. Mixed races of black and white, with hazel eyes. Men automatically noticed her.

The bartender nodded and moved on to Sofie. “And for you beautiful?” He questioned, with a boyish charm.

“Mojito!” Squealed Sofie, as she beamed the most adorable smile at the bartender and slipped onto her stool. Leaning forward on the bar.

The bartender smiled at her, nodded, and gestured towards Jessica.

“Cosmopolitan and maybe your number at the end of the night?” Flirted Jessica as her fingers trailed the swirling tattoos on his arm. She didn’t bother getting into her seat fully, but half ass sat on it so that she could be closer to the bartender.

He watched her fingers move down his arm to his hand, and he turned his hand so that his palm of his hand was upward, her index finger moving along the lines of his hands. They made eye contact, and he leaned in to whisper in her ear. Whatever it was made Jessica red, and caused her to fan herself. The bartender smiled a lot differently at her than he did the other girls, and finally looked at you. 

“And for you beautiful? “

“A…Ms. Monroe?”  you replied, and your group looked at you. All with opened mouths and wide eyes. You looked at them and then back at the tender. “Can you make that? “

“I can make whatever you want.” He smiled, tapping your hand to assure you that your order would be taken care of. He turned around and started preparing the drink orders.

 ...

After a few moments each one of you received your drinks. Your friends came close together, toasted to you being single and starting a new chapter in your life. You guys banged on the bar top and the shot of Jägermeister fell into the cold glass of beer, and you drank it down. You picked up your Ms. Monroe, placed it to your lips and took a sip. The taste of the strawberry and vanilla infused vodka hit you first, then the taste of lemon juice, and when you swallowed the taste of strawberry and sprite lingered. It was good. So good, that you knew that after this glass was gone, and when the edible rose petals were gone, you would be getting another one. Followed by another and another, and another. Until you were sick of them, but that would be impossible. These bitches were delicious.

Sofie had clearly forgotten about her bouncer guy and another man in a suit walked up to her and started flirting. She was going to ignore you guys for this guy, and maybe go home with him, which was her normal motive and end goal. She didn't believe in relationships and voiced her opinion that if you didn't commit yourself to one person, but just had sex, there would be no chance for pain or hurt. Just sex. Just unfiltered, primal sex. Because that is all you needed. No relationship, just a good fucking. She looked at you over her shoulder and winked one of her baby doll blue eyes and went back to the handsome blonde man before her. A ken doll in a suit. Her catnip. 

Over the roar of music, a distant, hazy of chatter could be heard. You couldn't make out any words, but laughter rang in your ears and wouldn't seem to stop. The song that was playing got louder, pulling you in and wouldn't let go. You had no choice but to join the crowd, jumping in a huddled group like Tic-Tacs being shaken in a box.  No-one can see the dance floor, it's wall to wall people dancing to the music. There was no room for any more but somehow when Jessica grabbed you, and pulled you to the dance floor, space magically appeared. The music was a mix of todays, 80’s and 90’s, and you were twisting, turning, holding hands with Jessica as you change sides. You guys were all grins, you look like idiots and you don't care. Inside you were just happy, happy and more alive than you can ever be at this moment. You felt the part of you that's really you come out to play, to feel the vibe of the music and let your body go free. One moment, one brilliant feeling of togetherness suspended in time.

The group had been so jubilant, singing the songs that belonged to the inebriated and joyful, when a group of drunk men approached, and one of them started to hit on Jessica. He was incredibly drunk and when he tried to look cool and dance with her, his pants dropped. The small perimeter of people around you erupted in laughter.  

You could hear them laughing and screaming with joy as they watched the drunken fool before them, who’d pants had fallen around his ankles. He wasn't wearing any underwear and seeing that inside of the club was a bit cold, his bits were…. well no where to be seen. Without looking, and not wanting to join in, your eyes shifted downward, and you turned around, immediately bumping into the back of a rather tall man, spilling your drink on your dress. 

He turned, and you saw his shiny black shoes, your eyes then traveled up the length of his slacks, long legs. He wore a white dress shirt, without a tie, and the top two buttons where open, revealing the smooth skin at the top of his chest, collar, and upwards to his neck. You pulled in your bottom lip and released it very slowly when your eyes landed on his face. The most beautiful man you had ever seen, stood before you with the most beautiful smile.  Your friends behind you called your name and voiced encouragement towards you, attempting to turn your face from what, from who, you were focused on. But because of the failed attempt they went on about their business and left you to…well…this man. Who opened his perfect lips and said something to you as he slipped his hands into his pockets.

“Wh-what?” You questioned. The music was very loud, so you leaned in a little closer to hear him. So, he closed the space between you a little more. One hand slipped out of his pocket and he placed it respectfully on your hip and bent down slightly at the waist to say again.

“Looks like I owe you another drink” He purred with a honeyed accent, but you couldn't exactly tell what kind. He smelled fantastic. A fresh shower, and a cologne that melted into your nostrils. It made you close your eyes and lean in a little more to take another sniff, but he pulled back to look at you for your response.  

“No, you don’t have to. I wasn’t watching where I was going, and clearly spilling it was a lesson learned.” You voiced loudly, as the music around you died. Everyone around you looked at you and then away as a lot of them cleared the floor. Shuffling back to their tables, booths and upstairs to the send floor where there was more seating and another bar. Embarrassing.

“Well I’m happy that you learned your lesson, but what kind of man would I be if I left you without another drink?” He said sweetly with melody a British tongue.  

It made you shiver.

“I’m not sure, I don’t really know you.”  You blushed.

He looked down at the ground and smiled, changing his weight on another leg.

“Well, how about we change that?” He beamed.God he was beautiful. The Lights above dancing across his face, creating a web of light and shades, which gave his features many different looks. 

You blushed more and gave a closed lip smile. 

“I’m… Reagan.” You lied as you held your delicate hand out for him. You lied because you promised yourself that you wouldn't be you. You didn't want to have any connection with your old life tonight. So you lied. 

His eyes looked down at your hand and then back up at you. Could he tell that you lied to him? He licked his lips, they were thin, pink and beautiful. For a moment you entertained the thought of what it would be like to kiss them. Taste them. Fuck, taste him.

He took your hand in his. His hands were so warm, and soft. His large fingers closed around your palm. You could have swore you felt his pulse in his hands, or maybe it was your own. Your heart was pounded when he touched you. Even it was only your hand, you didn’t want him to stop touching you. You wanted him to touch more of you. 

“I’m Richard” he said

“Nice to meet you Richard.” 

You locked eyes.

“The pleasure is all mine, Reagan.” He purred, as his eyes racked you up and down. Those pink lips curling into another lustful smile. 

End of Part 2

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Seven Black Heroines (Chu, 1982)

I'm a sucker for any movie that puts a bunch of cool characters together for a mission, and this is no exception. We get Brigitte Lin with an eyepatch. We get a tattooed Amazon who beats up a great big sumo wrestler for her introduction. We get a lady with a ridiculous hair metal coiffure who kills a man in a white suit when he accuses her of cheating at cards. (We never learn if she actually cheated. She seems cool so I'm inclined to take her side.) We get Sally Yeh as a mercenary proficient with explosives. (She's introduced on horseback, and I was tempted to refer to her as the "horse lady", but that might make this sound like Emanuelle in America, but this is mostly good clean fun for non-degenerates. There is however some dicey stuff involving animals, involving grenades going off way too close to horses, so I suppose I should warn viewers sensitive about such things accordingly.) There's a kleptomaniac and a prostitute who stabs her john...eh, these characters aren't that cool. And there's an alcoholic samurai. This character has the best introduction because her alcoholism is played initially for drama, but when the bar staff try to cut her off, she instead cuts them off...literally! (This character spends most of her scenes either drinking or looking for a bottle. And people say these movies don't care about character development.)

These characters end up in prison, although the movie sidesteps the usual sleazy pleasures of women-in-prison movies in favour of borderline comic relief wherein Lin repeatedly squeals on all the other characters to the prison staff and/or finds other ways to fuck them over. There's also a basketball scene where the characters play fast and loose with the concept of dribbling and one of them does a backflip to escape, only to be caught immediately. Eventually, Lin reveals her plan to break out and take out an enemy laboratory. At this point I should mention that this is set during World War II under Japanese occupation, but period integrity is not one of the movie's primary concerns. The other characters decide to ignore all the red flags raised by Lin in the first act and escape with her, at which point they become hunted down by a group of murderous black-clad riders, and the movie shifts from a WIP flick to a spaghetti western.

Along the way, there's a fun scene where the characters dodge boobytraps, and Lin reveals a snazzy fur hat that bears a strong resemblance to the hair metal lady's hairdo. (They stand back-to-back at one point so you can note the resemblance.) And there's a run-in with a group of villagers who challenge them to a swordfight, and eating contest (our heroines' representative cheats by tying her noodles to those of her challenger) and a drunken shooting match. There might even be ghosts. And there's an explosion-filled showdown with the riders and a shoot-'em-up climax when the characters infiltrate the laboratory.

This is directed by Chu Yen-Ping, responsible for the wildly entertaining Fantasy Mission Force. It shares with that movie a disregard for period detail and a cavalier approach to genre, although this doesn't cycle through quite as many, settling for just WIP, spaghetti western and WWII mission movie. (Fans of that movie will remember its WWII story involved Abraham Lincoln, Rocky, hopping vampires and Mad Max Nazis.) The movie is actually pretty astute about the iconography of the genres it navigates, particularly the western (there are plenty of great shots of the heroines and villains on horseback, and their confrontation is nice and dusty). It also has a secret weapon in the form of stolen Ennio Morricone music, which not only is a shortcut to production value but it actually deploys to rousing and even moving effect. By the time the movie reached its unexpectedly poignant conclusion, maybe it was the "L'estasi dell'oro" blaring on the soundtrack, but I admit I was a little touched. Am I getting soft? Maybe.

[obscureglance]

1. What time did you get up this morning? I don’t remember. Early, I think.

2. How do you like your steak? I don’t; I like petting living cows.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? The Quiet Place Part II.

4. What is your favorite TV show? Jfc, a lot. Shameless, The Fosters/Good Trouble, Dexter, and Grey’s Anatomy.

5. If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be? Somewhere a bit cooler year-round.

6. What did you have for breakfast? Ham and cheese croissant. It was the first time I’d had ham in a long time and it was good but I felt guilty. Poor pigs.

7. What is your favorite cuisine? Japanese or Italian.

8. What foods do you dislike? More than I care to admit.

9. Favorite place to eat? Ru San’s.

10. Favorite dressing? Probably balsamic vinaigrette.

11. What kind of vehicle do you drive? Toyota.

12. What are your favorite clothes? Ripped jeans and a tank top or an oversized sweatshirt and short shorts.

13. Where would you visit if you had the chance? So many places. I have to see The Great Pyramid of Giza before I die.

14. Cup 1/2 empty or 1/2 full? Same amount.

15. Where would you want to retire? Tropical by water or moderate temperature place.

16. Favorite time of day? Middle of the night.

17. Where were you born? Atlanta.

18. What is your favorite sport to watch? Softball probably.

19. How many siblings? I think two (I’m adopted and referring to one known sibling and one possible other).

20. Favorite pastime/hobby? Reading, journaling, and watching too much TV.

21. Who are you most curious about their responses to this? No one knows me.

22. Bird watcher? Birds are interesting, especially hummingbirds.

23. Are you a morning person or a night person? Night, unless I get anxious or depressed.

24. Do you have any pets? One dog.

25. Any new and exciting news you’d like to share? I have a new lover and am very happy (;

26. What did you want to be when you were little? A singer or teacher.

27. What is your best childhood memory? Sleepovers at my best friend’s house. She had a movie library, a pool, and a billiard table. She was rad, too, of course. She was hilarious.

28. Are you a cat or dog person? Dog, but I do like cats.

29. Are you married? Oh hell no. I want to be eventually.

30. Always wear your seat belt? Yes! It helps my anxiety, actually.

31. Been in a car accident? A couple.

32. Any pet peeves? Being interrupted. Drives me INSANE.

33. Favorite Pizza Toppings? Buffalo or BBQ chicken pizza.

34. Favorite Flower? Peonies, poppies, and cockscombs.

35. Favorite ice cream? Ben and Jerry’s Half Baked.

36. Favorite fast food restaurant? Zaxby’s or Panda Express.

37. How many times did you fail your driver’s test? None, but I did get my license late.

38. From whom did you get your last email? Reddit.

39. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card? American Eagle on jeans, Crate and Barrel for home decor, or Bath and Body on everything. OR A SEX SHOP.

40. Do anything spontaneous lately? Had sex in the back of a car like I was 18 again haha.

41. Like your job? I feel like the luckiest lady in the world.

42. Broccoli? Love.

43. What was your favorite vacation? Either LA or Washington, D.C. Ooh, or St. Pete.

44. Last person you went out to dinner with? My bestie and I went to get Mexican this past Sunday.

45. What are you listening to right now? Band called Inner Wave. Really chill. Just found them.

46. What is your favorite color? It changes every day. The top four are the three main cool colors and the fourth is a mix of red and pink.

47. How many tattoos do you have? I have 8 total. 6 small ones and 2 big ones. Getting my 9th done soon. My goal is to lose count.

49. What time did you finish this quiz? 11:24 pm.

50. Coffee Drinker? Cold brew with simple syrup.

[asagao-onna]

About

Mitarashi Anko is a Type A Scorpio

At the age of five, two very important things happened to Anko. Her parents were both killed on a mission in another land, and soon after, she met Orochimaru. She became his disciple and he became her entire world, filling the void her parents’ deaths had left. He was her caregiver, her sensei, her hero, her saviour, her beloved. Those years with him were the happiest of her life. Anko worked as hard as she could to make him happy, in hopes she might matter to him even half as much.

Everything fell apart nine years later. Orochimaru put the Heaven’s Curse Mark on her, knowing it proved fatal to its nine other recipients. Anko survived, despite (or perhaps because) the Curse Mark did not properly activate on her. He told her she lacked hatred and abandoned her. Devastated, she went back to Konoha, while he became a missing-nin.

Some distrusted her upon her return, while others pitied her. With time and more hard work, she was able to gain respect in the village and became a special jounin. She’s since made friends with some of her comrades, yet she tends to keep them at a safe distance. Deep down, she’s still heartbroken over Orochimaru’s betrayal and cannot let go of his memory.

Her personality is quite erratic. Her childhood traumas and drive to be a worthy disciple of Orochimaru pushed her to grow up very early. As an actual adult, without Orochimaru’s guidance, she feels lost and aimless. This has resulted in her behaving immaturely and self-medicating with food. She has a morbid, occasionally cruel streak, as well as great determination to achieve any task given her, yet she is overly energetic to the point of recklessness. Anko combines the darkness and cynicism of her former sensei, with the flightiness and naïveté of Naruto.

FULL NAME: Mitarashi Anko NICKNAME(S): Crazy Snake Lady   TITLE(S): Tokubetsu Jounin/ Legendary Kunoichi AGE: 24 (part I), 27 (part II), 44 (part III) BIRTHDAY: 24 October RACE: Human GENDER: Female MARITAL/RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual Oro-sexual! And extremely kinky!

HAIR: Dark purple EYES: Light brown HEIGHT: 167 cm BUILD: Buxom and athletic, zaftig in middle age DISTINGUISHING MARKS: The Heaven’s Curse Mark, until Orochimaru’s revival during the Fourth War TATTOOS: None (that we know of, may or may not have Orochimaru’s name with a heart on her bottom) PIERCINGS: Several ear piercings COMMON ACCESSORIES:  A snake fang necklace

PROFESSION: Ninja/ exam proctor/ academy sensei HOBBIES: Tea ceremony, eating lots of dango SKILL(S): Projectile weapons, snake summoning, genjutsu LANGUAGE(S): Japanese RESIDENCE: A small flat in Konohagakure BIRTHPLACE: Konohagakure PATRON DEITY: Her immortal saviour, Orochimaru FEARS: Being hated by Orochimaru

LIKES: Dango and shiruko, sweets in general, tea ceremonies, snakes, asagao, the smell and taste of blood, catching people off guard, privacy, determination, knowledge, praise, keeping busy, orange and purple, target practice, and having fun.

DISLIKES: Spicy foods, standard shinobi uniforms, small talk, being dismissed or ignored, gossip, loneliness, lazy people, getting bossed around by people she doesn’t respect, confessing, being insulted, cold temperatures, apathy, back-sass, situations she doesn’t understand, and the fact she isn’t from a great clan nor does she have a kekkei genkai.

Background image source

Many of the icons I use are made by bunniicons

[horrorich]

CHARACTER SHEET  . 

[ i. basic information ]

FULL NAME.  sairys wyrn.

NICKNAMES. mistress , madame , m ‘  lady , sairs  ,  miss wyrn.

ALIASES.  mistress.

FACE.   n   /  a.

DATE OF BIRTH.    october 28th . 

AGE.  appears like that of a twenty - eight year old   ,  when in reality most succubus life - span for over a thousand years at least.

ZODIAC SIGN. scorpio. though she does not know much about astrology and all those “  funny characters. “ 

GENDER. pan - sexual. 

PRONOUNS.  she /  her.

ORIENTATION.  in [  verse 001. ]  she is a member of the brothel lady luck. she works as a lady of the house and eventually becomes the madame of the house , once her mistress mysteriously passes on. after trying to black - mail sairys with information on her true succubae form to the mayor. in [ verse 002.  ]  she is a widow to a puritan home where she bore him no children  ,   however in some verses she is pregnant with a poet boys child and in others she is not. her job here is to run the home in her late husband ‘ s stead. ordering around the maids and servants for he was quite rich. 

SPECIES. sub - immortal. not quite an immortal creature , but one that can live for quite sometime. her official life - span is three thousand years old. 

NATIONALITY.  louisan. 

ETHNICITY.  Asian  /  japanese. 

RESIDENCE. plot dependent , but usually louisiana. 

HOMETOWN.   the astral plains.  a  deep dark pit of a place where only the fittest among incubi / succubi and humans that wander there survive. its called the Nexxus and it is a place that Sairys grew up on surviving off the backs of her sisters. she escaped that place when she was a teenager through a mortal portal by accident. she has since learned high class society and well manners through many lousina orphanages before being picked up at the ripe age of sixteen from the mistress at lady luck. 

OCCUPATION.  whore  -  house  mistress  /  mistress of brothel lady luck.

EDUCATION. she was taught survival by her succubi clan back in Nexxus , however once becoming a foreigner of lousiana she learned and was taught off the streets by the girls of the streets.

RELIGION. she does not believe in a God , however since frowns and suspicion can be passed to girls like that . ( not to mention claiming them witches. ) she has since staged that she is catholic. 

[ ii. appearance ]

HEIGHT. 5  “  7 ft. average height. with her hooves exposed she stands around 6  “  6 ft.

BUILT.  slender chest   ,   thick hips and matching legs. 

EYES.  brown.

HAIR.  black.

SCARS. none.

TATTOOS.  none. though she often times finds herself running her hands across the tattoos of those that enter her bedroom chambers  ,  after love has been made.

PIERCINGS.  none.

OTHER. she has the ability to shape - shift into her true form. that of which has a tail that curls with black fur at the tips , she has horns that curl upon her head and even hooves. appearing more like a creautre of the devil than god she often times gets mistaken for demons. she has the well enough ability to hide herself from others unless she is starving and needs to feed. she feeds off of the energies that are produced during sex and she can receive this her favorite way -- through a kiss. 

DRESSING STYLE. she always dresses in fancy attire. something with several skirts , twirls , and folds. she enjoys golds and reds. and often pairs blacks with reds. she enjoys a finely tailored suit on a man and a ample corset on a woman. she will often times pay the tailors a visit to keep her bird nest back at the lady luck all up and spick - span.  in [ verse 002. ] she often times where’s black to signal that she is a widow and is in mourning. 

[ iii. relationships ]

DIRECT FAMILY. a father. ( estranged incubus ) a mother. ( estranged succubi. ) 

EXTENDED FAMILY.  she made a family out of the clan of succubus that she would often hunt with in nexxus and much like a clan of succubi she also has friended most of the girls back at lady luck. 

SIGNIFICANT OTHER.  her other ,  in verse 002. ] nicolas williams passed on as he was older and had left for the wars. she mainly married him to seclude her true succubus form from the world and being in the arms of a puritan made it easier for no one to suspect that she was a demon of the night.

CHILDREN.   n  /  a.   though in some verses [ verse 002. ] she has claimed herself pregnant. 

PETS.  [verse 001 ]  a song - bird by the name of lucy which the lady luck women keep out in the foyer. she often sings when customers come visiting. 

[silverfootstepswrites]

title Sunday Nights summary Conversation doesn't help us pairing itasaku, tobisaku, headaches

Part i | Part ii | Part iii | Part iv | Part v | Part vi | Part vii (here) | Part viii | Part ix | Part x | Part xi | Part xii | Part xiii | Part xiv | Part xv | Part xvi | Part xvii | Part xviii | Part xix | Part xx | Part xxi | Part xxii | Part xxiii | Part xxiv | Part xxv | Part xxvi | Part xxvii | Part xxviii | Part xxix | Part xxx | Part xxxi | Part xxxii | Part xxxiii | Part xxxiv | Part xxxv | Part xxxvi | Part xxxvii| Part xxxviii | Part xxxix | Part XL (it ends here)

White mist streamed out of her mouth as she looked at the city. Her skin almost felt like paper. She rubbed her fingers against each other. Then against the front of her coat. She tucked them into her pockets. Leaning against the railing, she stared at the passing faces. Each one blurred into the next, like a carousel of strangers looping around and around. Hoping, straining to see the one face that would stand out from the rest.

When Sakura opened her eyes, she was staring up at an eggshell ceiling. She turned onto her side, fingers pressing to her eyelids. The light that streamed in through the blinds pierced. She fumbled until her fingers connected with the cord. With a hard yank, she closed off the light from outside.

The quiet pooled along with the darkness in this bedroom. It was only until she rolled onto her other side that she could tell which room this was in which apartment. Not that they were much different. They were empty, for the most part. Pale walls with paler furniture. No photographs, no personal trinkets. Just enough outfits in the closet. And if she ran out, she could have more brought in.

These apartments were all interchangeable pieces in a puzzle without colors. Where there was no hunting and matching the jagged edges. One could replace the other. And in a way, that was easy. Because they were all unfamiliar ceilings. They were all lonely places. No one place hurt more than the other.

Sakura grabbed her phone from the nightstand. The screen lit up blue at her touch. She scrolled through the list of missed calls and messages that had sat unread. Emails notified her of bank transfers and meetings scheduled. It was the same pattern of clicking and dragging through one message and then another.  Instructing the boys on how many knees to break and how many arms to twist.

She rolled onto her back, arms stretched out at her sides. Staring up at the ceiling, she counted back the days since she had returned to Tokyo. And then counted forward to the days until her next birthday. Paused as she forgot, for a moment, when her own birthday even was.

"I should shower," she announced to no one. As if the words would motivate her. They sort of did.

As she sat up, she caught sight of the one pop of color in the room. A plain glass vase filled with purple flowers. She didn't even remember the name of this particular variety. Itachi had sent her so many different kinds over the course of a month that she had stopped reading the labels.

Just purple and just pretty enough.

She sat for too long in the hot spray, mulling things over. And then she lingered in her towel, staring into the foggy mirror without seeing. She wiped the mirror with her right hand in broad strokes. Until she could see the cherry blossom tattoo running up her right arm. Turning, she followed its bath over her shoulder. On the back of her ribcage was an old poem. She didn't even remember where she had first heard it. Didn't even remember why she had liked it so much in the first place.

She stared at the person in the mirror. Met her eyes. Looked her up and down.

"You're going to be strong today," she promised her. And the woman in the mirror, for a second, looked like she gave a smirk of approval.

Itachi came to the club again. An enormous armful of light pink roses clutched to his chest. His right arm hung at his side. It wasn't in a sling anymore, but she could see that it was still difficult for him to use. She met him by the door, her nude heels pointed like the blade of a knife.

"Do you really not have anything better to do than play delivery boy?" asked Sakura, coming down the stairs. Yet she still accepted the flowers. Her fingertips skimming over the back of his hand. And she must have been smiling because the tip of his gloved thumb touched her lower lip.

He took off his hat. But when he struggled to undo his scarf with one hand, she reached up and unhooked it from the back of his neck. And then he took her hand, neither smiling nor frowning. He turned her hand over, looking at her knuckles, at the thin gold band on her pointer finger. At the two faint cigarette burns on her knuckles. Itachi ran his thumb over them. So gently, as if they were still raw.

She was about to say something else when she felt a hand tug on her elbow. She lifted her head so that Sai could whisper in her ear.

"Uncle Tobirama is heading here. Just him. Not an entourage." And then Sai's eyes darted once to the oyabun standing in their shop. She understood. Putting her hand on his cheek, she whispered instructions to him. Sai's brow furrowed as he took in her orders. Nodding, he slipped away to relay the news to Tenten.

“If I ask you to leave, will you?” she asked, turning to Itachi. He shook his head, so she grabbed the front of his shirt.

“You can't be here right now. He definitely won't like it,” she warned. He grasped her forearm in return.

"Who?" he asked, his eyes not at all serious.

"Who could be so intimidating that he rattles even the great Jing-Mei?" he demanded. Her temper flared, she shoved at his chest. But he held on the same, eyes never leaving hers. And she hated the way that he seemed to see through her, like she was painted onto glass. Gritting her teeth, she tried to shove him again. He didn't even budge. Injured or not, he was evidently stronger than she was.

"Why?" he tried instead.

When she tried to pull away, his hold tightened.

"Fine," she relented, sagging. And then he released her.

She shook her arms, letting her sleeves fall back where they should. Fixed her hair, pretended to fuss with the buttons on the front of her dress before she looked at him again.

"It's...complicated. I don't really have time to go into detail," she admitted. His expression didn't change.

"That was the most non-answer answer I've ever heard," he criticized. Her eyes narrowed.

"That's all I can say for now. And it'll be much easier for me to deal with if you're not here," she added with a pointed look at the door.

Itachi didn't budge.

They were beginning to draw curious eyes. So she leaned in close, meeting his gaze straight on. She rose on her tiptoes. And his head bowed to meet her. Placing her hands on either side of his face, she whispered:

"I'm asking you. If you stay, please, just don't let him see your face."

Before he could react, she slipped away. Her tapping heels urgent against the tile. Sai was only a few steps behind her, suddenly barking orders and moving the staff around.

The air in the club seemed to sharpen, somehow. Some of the customers who had been laughing and clinking glasses with the girls changed. Exchanging looks with the staff, and then their eyes trailing Sakura. Following her as she went up to her office and them came back downstairs. Everyone else was oblivious, of course. There were pockets of nervous eyes amidst the laughter.

When the front door opened, a small ripple went through the room. The tiny action of hands edging toward concealed weapons. Fingers tightening around glasses that became easy blades when smashed.

It was just one of the regulars who had dropped in for round two after work. One of the girls hurried up to usher him to a table, hanging onto his arm. 

Itachi took a seat at the far end of the bar, his back to the door. Before he could order, Tenten poured him a drink and pushed it down to him. Her towel gave a sharp snap before she resumed wiping glasses.

Their eyes met. Itachi had never seen Tenten look so unsettled before.

The door opened a second time. Winter clung on Tokyo's heels, refusing to make room for spring. The smell of the cold blew in. And two men stepped in after. The noise in the room faltered for just a moment.

"Welcome!" Ayu exclaimed, offering her best smile. And it was a very charming smile- showing off her twin dimples.

Itachi spotted Tommy sitting in his usual spot. Tommy's gaze darted to the two men, and then he looked back at Itachi, shaking his head.

"What's wrong? Aren't you having fun?" asked Moegi, tugging on his wrist. Grinning, he put his arm around her.

"Sorry, ladies. I was just stunned by your beauty for a second, yeah," he replied.

"Oh, you flirt!" they scolded, laughter swelling around them. And that seemed to pop the bubble of sudden quiet. Like someone had paused a song and then pressed play again.

The yakuza were certainly intimidating with their dark sunglasses and identical black suits. Some of them rolled up their sleeves to show off their tattoos.

These men were unsettling in a different way. They scanned the room for a long moment, unsmiling. One had a vertical scar over his left eye. He was in a long grey coat with black leather gloves. Gold and sapphire buttons on his sleeves. Gleaming shoes that were so unscuffed that they belonged on mannequins.

The other was Tobirama, who wore a black jacket with a fur hood. But the fur was a silvery-grey that blended in with his hair. Combined with his height, it made him look like a giant wolf filling the doorway.

Neither of them spoke. So Ayu tried again in her awkward English.

"Can I help you?"

But then Tobirama glimpsed pink hair past the curtain in the back. He murmured something to his companion.

"There's no need," he then replied to Moegi in excellent Japanese. And they walked around her, as easily as if she were a piece of furniture.

The man with the scar spread his arms wide as he pushed past the curtain.

"Jing-Mei," he drawled. Sakura's turned, her expression flat. She pulled out her gun, the gold gleaming between her fingers. She pointed it dead-center between his eyes.

"I thought you were dead," she stated. He seemed unconcerned as he collapsed in the seat across from her. Kicking up his shoes on the table, he draped his arms across the back of the booth.

"Kakashi."

Both of them looked up as Tobirama walked up. One hand in the pocket of his tailored black pants. His white shirt was a little wrinkled, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He draped his jacket over his left forearm.

"Don't be rude," chastised Tobirama. When Kakashi didn't move, Tobirama reached into his back pocket. Leisurely as if he were getting a stick of gum. Instead, he took out a pistol.

"Maybe you’re hard of hearing now, old man? Feet," Tobirama snapped.

Heaving a sigh, Kakashi lowered his feet- one at a time. Tobirama pockets his firearm, settling beside Sakura. Not exactly close, but not far either.

Sakura kept her arm steady.

"You know, there was a time when you two called me 'Uncle'. Now I'm getting scolded like a schoolboy," lamented Kakashi. He opened his coat, shedding his gloves. Half of his left pinky ended in a stump. But there was a silver ring on it, as if rewarding it for its ugliness.

"That's not true, Kakashi. Schoolchildren at least know basic manners," retorted Sakura. And then, she lowered her gun. Her pointer finger rested on the trigger. With her other hand, she snapped, bringing Sai over.

"Daai lou," he greeted the two men, bowing. Tobirama nodded. Kakashi looked him over, not saying anything.

"Whiskey, neat for our guests. Pinot noir for me," Sakura said. Sai bowed again before ducking past the curtain to head for the bar.

"I was wondering why it was so quiet. That one’s not in Hong Kong to start trouble. He’s just like you, Jing-Mei," Tobirama observed, staring after him. Sakura turned her head away, scoffing.

“He was just a little errand boy in my time. I never assumed he’d catch your eye,” Kakashi said.

At this, Sakura crossed one leg over the other. The high slit in her dress opened and her thigh peeked out. She felt Tobirama glance at it but ignored him. Pinning Kakashi with a glare, she opened her mouth.

"Well you made an assumption that I wouldn't kill if you showed your face here. Looks like you aren't doing so hot tonight, Mad Dog," she threatened. Her voice all silken and soft.

"Aiya, Sakura, don't be like that," sighed Kakashi. "Us halfies have to stick together, you know?"

When she had first come to Hong Kong, she hadn't really felt like she belonged anywhere. Kakashi had a Japanese father and a Chinese mother. He claimed that his old man had died of cancer, although there were rumors that Kakashi had slit his throat for leaving his mother.

"We halfies have to look out for each other, right?" he always said. Dropping off weapons and packages for her to hide. Slipping her candies from Japan in case she felt homesick. In her youth, those little kindnesses had warmed her heart.

But as Hashirama brought her into the fold, he made a point to keep Kakashi far away from her.

"Be careful, Jing-Mei. Mad Dog talks nice, but that's the problem. He's all talk. He's the type to bring a book of poems to a gunfight."

Eyeing his easy smile, Sakura scoffed.

"Kakashi," she said. (Which wasn't even his real name. Because who would name their child 'scarecrow'?) "Kakashi, the only thing you are is half 'jack' and half 'ass'."

Tobirama snorted as Sai arrived with drinks. Sai placed the tumbler in Tobirama's waiting fingers before setting the other glass in front of Kakashi. Without looking up, Sakura raised her hand over her shoulder. Sai slipped the stem between her knuckles. Her palm molded to the shape of the glass.

"Thank you, Sai," she called after his retreating back.

"Yeah, Mama," he replied, also not looking at her.

"But seriously, don't be like that, Jing-Mei. We had a deal, remember?" insisted Kakashi, leaning forward. His elbows on his thighs. He cracked that old grin- the one he used like a lockpick to always wiggle his way in.

Sakura eyed him over the rim of her glass. She took a long sip. The wine was the same color as her lips, staining her teeth black for a second.

"I can't recall," she answered.

Kakashi huffed. He picked up his drink and took a sip. Made a noise of approval. Took another sip.

“This is some good shit,” he commented. And then, eyes narrowing, he pointed at her.

“You look like you’re doing well for yourself, Haruno. This is a swanky joint,” observed Kakashi, looking around. At the high ceilings. At the gleaming floors and twinkling string lights. Something in his gaze shifted. Leaning back in the seat, he continued pointing.

“I always knew you would make it big, Jing-Mei. Which is why I gave you so much,” Kakashi insisted. Rolling her eyes, Sakura set her glass down. She stood, walking over to adjust the curtain. As she peered past, she saw Charlie staring at her. Her eyes darted to the bar and then back to him. He got up, ignoring the way the puzzled hostesses called after him.

“You didn’t do shit for me, Mad Dog,” Sakura retorted, still staring out at the club. She stepped back to her table. Sank into her seat. Just a little closer to Tobirama than before. She could smell his cologne. When she reached to pick up her wine again, her arm brushed against his elbow.

And then, she tilted her head back, considering the chandelier. It was a custom-made design flown in from New York City. The clusters of glass flowers glowed soft yellow. Casting golden shapes across the ceiling like many reaching hands.

She spun the stem of her glass between her fingers. Let her eyes flutter shut.

"Ah. Yes. Now I recall. You were supposed to give me your territory. In exchange, I would help you disappear," she stated. Eyes falling open. Mouth curling on one side. She pointed with the hand holding her wine.

"Whatever happened, Mad Dog?" she questioned.

His smile faltered. Clearing his throat.

"Now, Jing-Mei. You know that things got messy. I didn’t realize the Red Arrow gang would move in so quickly," he began, holding up his hands in front of him.

"Oh. I see." Her eyes narrowed. She took a sip of wine. Licked her lips.

"And remember that it all worked out in the end? You have the Mid-Levels now. Those are some high-ranking people under your protection. Plus I gave you Charlie Lau. Don't you like Charlie Lau? He's useful, isn't he?" he reminded her. Beside her, Tobirama scoffed.

"I thought that the deal was all you owned. Whatever happened to your slice of Aberdeen?" Tobirama pointed out, examining his nails.

Kakashi shot a glare in the other man's direction.

"I thought you were here to help me talk to her," he grumbled. Tobirama looked guiltless. His gaze darted toward Sakura. And then he shrugged.

"The deal was that I get her attention. I never said anything else," scoffed the Red Pole. He leaned back, arms draping over the top of the booth. Sakura glanced at him, almost laughing. And their eyes locked.

"What was in it for you, Tobirama?" she queried. His eyebrows arched.

"Let's just say that drinks are on me tonight," responded Tobirama. She looked back at the man sitting across from them.

"At any rate, you didn't hold up your end of the bargain, Mad Dog. Cleaning up after that mess was a pain in my ass for months. What makes you think that I'll ever listen to another word you have to say?" she demanded.  

Kakashi suddenly looked small. It was hard to believe that he had once been a Red Pole just like them. His eyes darted around. That was his speciality- finding a way to charm his way out of every sticky situation. He spread his hands, shrugging.

"My rugged good looks?" Kakashi ventured.

She leveled her Desert Eagle at him. The barrel glinted. She took another sip of wine with her other hand.

"Try again," she said, unsmiling.

Kakashi rubbed the back of his head. Letting out a sigh, he stared down at his feet. And then he rubbed his face with both his hands.

"Fuck, Jing-Mei. My wife is pregnant," he confessed in a muffled voice.

Her gun didn't waver. "So?"

His head shot up. Leaning forward, he slammed both his hands down on the tabletop. The club suddenly went silent at the noise.

"Mama? Is everything alright?" called Moegi from her table.

"Everything's fine. Don't worry, dear," replied Sakura, her voice light and pleasant. That didn't stop Sai from sticking his head behind the curtain. He took in Kakashi's aggressive pose. Sakura's gun pointed at his forehead. She could see Sai reaching for his own firearm concealed under his black vest.

"Unnecessary. I would like some more wine though," Sakura stated. She held Sai's gaze until he lowered his hands.

"Of course, Mama," he ground out. Shooting Kakashi one last glare, he disappeared behind the curtain.

"Are you serious? Come on, Jing-Mei? How long have we known each other? That really doesn't matter at all to you? Do you seriously have no loyalty left for someone you used to call a 24K brother?" demanded Kakashi.

"You told me once that all that brotherhood talk wasn't worth shit. That it's more important to watch out for yourself. I'm just following your advice, daai lou," retorted Sakura. But after she considered him a while longer, she lowered her gun. Left it on the seat beside her.

"But congratulations, I suppose," she then added. Folding her arms across her chest, she leaned back. Her shoulder knocked into Tobirama's hand. But she didn't flinch away.

"So. What do you want?" she then questioned.

"To get the hell out of Hong Kong," he replied without hesitation. Hands clasping together, he let out a sigh.

"I thought just getting off the island would be it. Kowloon seemed safe enough. But now shit's going down and I don't want my kid growing up near any of that," Kakashi explained. And then he looked up. His eyes met hers.

And she hated how she understood that expression right away. Because she had seen it so many times in her mother's tired looks. Her soundless sobs as she washed her muddy and blood-stained uniform.  

Hadn't been kind enough to stop fighting. Hadn't been smart enough to lie whenever her mother asked if she had failed her.

"I need six months to gather my funds to move to America. Let me stay here in the meantime," requested Kakashi.

Her expression didn't shift. Even as she felt Tobirama's fingers trail down the back of her neck.

"You won't be invisible in Japan, Kakashi. You still have a lot of enemies," Sakura pointed out. But she looked him over as she considered. At the weariness etched into his posture and his gaze. Calculated that, although taking over his territory had been a true pain in her ass- he had made her much richer.

"Six months from tomorrow. Not a day later," she relented. Before he could thank her, she glared.

"You step one toe over the line, you are and your wife are dead, Mad Dog. Pregnant or not. Now get out before I change my mind," she warned. Kakashi bowed low, forehead almost touching his knees. Gathering his gloves, he got to his feet. Nodded at Tobirama. And then he left.

Because even if he had a reputation for being all talk, Sakura didn't.

Tobirama and Sakura didn't look at each other for a while. The club cooled as the door opened and shut. Sakura swirled her wine around in the glass.

"Now, I'm curious. Have you found York yet?" she asked, eyes trained on her knee. She measured the distance between each word. Careful. Light.

His fingers on the back of her neck stilled.

"Not yet. Rumor's say he's still here. He's starting to really piss me off," replied Tobirama, sighing. She glimpsed him running his hand through his hair.

"I see."

Drinking the rest of her wine, she set the glass aside. She examined her nails as she spoke: "I'll let you borrow Charlie Lau for a couple days. He's good at finding rats. He'll be helpful, especially since this is his turf. Doesn't make him look good either if York's running around under his nose."

Lifting her head, she met Tobirama's eyes.

"Good?" she asked.

“I’ll be out of the city as soon as I find Ng,” he responded. Getting to his feet, he handed her a few bills. More than enough to cover his whiskey and Kakashi’s. 

“Fine,” answered Sakura. And then he walked out the door, pulling on his jacket as he went. 

As soon as the door slammed shut, Tenten sagged against the bar. Sai did the same, his hands clenching into fists. 

Itachi stared at them.

“Was that someone big?” he questioned. 

Sai squeezed his eyes shut, a visible shudder running up his spine. Tenten, grimacing, nodded.

“That’s one of the other Red Poles. He goes by Tobirama, even though that’s definitely not his real name,” she explained. And then she cast a look toward the door. Like Tobirama might walk back in.

“I wouldn’t ask too many questions about him, daai lou. That man is dangerous,” added Tenten. 

Sakura counted through the bills. Sandwiched in the middle was a brand new credit card. Sleek and black. Apparently, Tobirama was planning on creating a mess if he was giving her such a nice present. She slipped just the card into her bra.

“If you’re done gossiping, I need you to call me the car, Tenten,” Sakura called out.

“Shit, she has good hearing,” Tenten hissed, patting her pockets to find her phone.

Sakura walked over to the bar. She leaned against it just beside Itachi. 

“The Uchiha’s don’t touch drugs. So you wouldn’t happen to know anything about the whereabouts of a dealer named York Ng, correct?” she asked. Itachi shook his head. 

“I hope you’re telling the truth. Because it’s about to get really ugly in Yokohama,” Sakura predicted. Heaving a sigh, she stood up straight. Itachi took her hand, turning her toward him. 

“Jing-Mei-”

“Go home for tonight, Itachi. I have some business to take care of now,” she interrupted him. She could feel him looking her face over. But unlike with either Hashirama or Tobirama, she didn’t feel exposed. He couldn’t see through or into her. Her expression was a mystery to him. But it was no mystery to her that he was worried.

“Is there anything I can do?” asked Itachi. His thumb ran over her knuckles. She pulled away, smiling. She touched his cheek with the back of her hand for a second. 

“You’re sweet, Kumicho. But this is 24K business,” she answered. Blowing him a kiss, she turned to head for the door. Sai was waiting for her with her white fur coat and purse. 

“Have someone follow Mad Dog. Report in every hour,” she whispered as she pulled her hands through the sleeves. Sai nodded. She patted his shoulder, slipped him the money that Tobirama had left. Was out the door, into the frozen streets. The smell of wine and roses mixing in her nose. Lingering like an unwanted guest long after the party had ended.

Sakura glanced around. Then looked down at her watch. The car was nowhere to be seen. Sighing, she shifted her coat over her shoulders. Craned her neck to peer down the block both ways. 

She jolted when she felt a hand touch her shoulder. 

“Sakura.”

“Itachi, I’m serious. Go home.” She turned on her heel. Saw the expression on his face and paused. He was still in the neon lights, the blues and pinks washing the color out of his face. The collar of his jacket was crooked again. She reached out to fix it. 

“I’ll wait with you. A lady shouldn’t be alone on the streets this late,” Itachi responded, completely serious. The smile that came to her lips almost hurt. 

“Have you forgotten who I am? I’m not in danger,” Sakura reminded him. She reached into her coat for a cigarette. Stopped when she heard him chuckle. 

“It’s more of a courtesy than anything. You’re still a lady,” he simply said. Holding his hand out to her. She watched it, wary. 

“What’re you playing at, Uchiha Itachi? You already have my favor. No need to kiss ass any more than this,” demanded Sakura, eyes narrowing. She pulled the cigarette out, holding it between her pointer and middle fingers. And when she looked up, his lighter was waiting for her. 

She stared at him through the flickering flame. At the way he cupped one hand around it to protect it from the wind. At the way he watched her through his eyelashes. How, unsmiling, he looked more and more like his father each time she saw him. 

“Do you really hate it so much?” queried Itachi. 

Sakura touched her cigarette to the flame. Waited for the smoke to rise. She took a breath, leaned away.

“Not particularly,” she admitted, not meeting his eyes. A smile curled at his mouth. 

Before he could respond, a black car rolled to a stop beside them. Sakura didn’t recognize the shape or the license plate. Both the front and back windows opened. Itachi was already pulling her out of the way before she could react.

“This is your only warning, bitch,” a voice said from inside. And then they opened fire. Gun smoke and the crack of bullets erupted into the night. And the nearby civilians screamed, scrambling for shelter. Itachi pulled her behind a utility pole, his good arm digging into his jacket pocket.

The door to the club slammed open. Tenten and Sai emerged, guns blazing. They had thrown random customers’ scarves over their heads to hide their faces. But Sakura could pick out Tenten from the way that she was shooting with both hands. 

Sakura felt a vibration inside her coat. She pawed through the layers of fur until she found her phone. She could hardly hear Tommy through all the screaming and gunfire. 

“Boss, just called for backup. Where are you?” he shouted. Sakura peered around the pole, jolted back when a bullet ricocheted off the edge. She glanced over at Itachi, he was also shouting into his phone. But when he met her eyes, he grabbed her by the front of the coat and held her close.

“Out front. I’m behind cover with the kumicho,” she replied. 

“We’ll be fi-” Glass shattered somewhere behind Tommy. And then he heard one of the girls begin shrieking. “We’ll be fine! Just get out of here for now, Boss!” 

Hearing her name, Sakura looked up. She saw Tenten was taking cover behind another pole, reloading her gun. Sai crouched beside her, attempting to pick off the driver. But all the bullets did were bounce off the reinforced sides of the car. Tenten gestured for her to go with a sharp jerk of her hand. 

“Diu,” she hissed to herself. And then she cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder as she dug back in her coat. Her fingers curled around her Desert Eagle.

“Call Rock Lee. I don’t care what he’s doing. Fly his ass over here! I’ll leave things to you three,” Sakura shouted. 

“Mou man tai. No problem, Boss,” replied Tommy. And then the call ended. Sakura shoved her phone back into her pocket. Grabbed Itachi by the front of his coat. 

“You got a ride, Kumicho?” she asked. They both flinched as bullets peppered the wall precariously close to their heads. Itachi reached back to pull a pistol out from under his jacket. He pointed down the opposite end of the street with it.

“I’ll cover for you. Get us out of here,” Sakura said. Nodding, Itachi scanned the area. He fired a couple shots off at the car. Sakura lifted her arm to do the same. Her bullet squeezed in through the gap in the window. Red exploded out from inside the car. 

They darted out from behind the pole. Tenten and Sai unleashed a rain of bullets down on the car to cover them. 

Sakura looked over her shoulder. Squinted through all the smoke and debris at the license plate of the car. Saw a chrysanthemum etched into the side of the plate. Nearly stumbled. Itachi took her hand and pulled her forward.

“Fucking shit. Tobirama,” she snarled as she ran as fast as she could.

Part i | Part ii | Part iii | Part iv | Part v | Part vi | Part vii (here) | Part viii | Part ix | Part x | Part xi | Part xii | Part xiii | Part xiv | Part xv | Part xvi | Part xvii | Part xviii | Part xix | Part xx | Part xxi | Part xxii | Part xxiii | Part xxiv | Part xxv | Part xxvi | Part xxvii | Part xxviii | Part xxix | Part xxx | Part xxxi | Part xxxii | Part xxxiii | Part xxxiv | Part xxxv | Part xxxvi | Part xxxvii| Part xxxviii | Part xxxix | Part XL (it ends here)

[middleagedangst]

...But Our Trucks are Naked Without It

Putting the Gadsden Flag out to sea

It’s time to retire the Gadsden flag. If you don’t know what that is, it’s the other flag flapping on the back of a pickup truck opposite a Confederate battle flag. I’m talking about the bright yellow flag with that smug-looking rattlesnake and the phrase, “Don’t tread on me.” It’s a flag meant to display passive-aggressive defiance of the government adopted by “patriotic” libertarians and other sects of the far-right political spectrum and the occasional human rights activist.

The flag itself dates back to the American Revolution, created by one Mr. Colonel Christopher Gadsden, one of the first Naval officers under George Washington, and used by Continental Marines as a statement of purpose. Throughout the flags lifetime, it has flown on battleships and other arms of the war machine hangs on walls and in windows, became emblazoned on t-shirts and beer koozies, and shown off as tattoos and Facebook profile pics. The flag has had a long and storied life without question. And now, just like an old sick dog, we need to take it to “live on a farm,” or maybe in the new American tradition, kill it with a drone strike.

The flag depicts a smug-looking rattlesnake coiled and ready to strike. Underneath, is the phrase, “DONT TREAD ON ME,” in all caps of course, because if you have to say it because some whiny liberal is oppressing you, you might as well fucking yell it at the top of your lungs to get your message across. Snakes have been used as a symbol of the American people since the early days of discontent for the crown, representing vigilance, courage, generosity, and the ability to be deadly when provoked. History has proven all of these things true without question. Snakes were a symbol of strength and liberty, the utmost qualities of a people with a desire for liberty, a positive affirmation, maybe. Nowadays, snakes are more representative of the slimy, venomous dickheads that rule over us like an alcoholic step-father that pulls his dick out at family functions.

I argue that a new emblem is in order, an update to the symbol that has been representative of our culture for hundreds of years. America isn’t that America anymore. It’s changed with the advent of social media, divisive identity politics, and economic inequality. A new United States needs a new symbol of the American zeitgeist- ladies, gents and all those in between, I present you with a new image emblematic of contemporary American culture- a symbol of vigilance, pride, and ego - the ouroboros.

I know, I know, the Ouroboros is a sign that throughout history meant perpetual rebirth according to the hippies so let me put this into a different context for you. When a snake is too stressed, the temperature of its habitat is wrong, or is blind, that dumb bastard will start eating its tail thinking it’s the enemy. See, the snake isn’t smart enough to see that what it's doing is actually harmful to the body as a whole. I mean, who gives a shit about a tail when the head is still attached, right? I can’t think of another image that describes the mentality of the people of the United States more completely and with more brevity than that.

The United States in the past few decades, especially since 9/11 has been gnawing away at its tail while the head is too filled with ego to know when to stop and lick the wounds, to let the tail be, or you know, stop treading all over the fucking thing. We’ve seen a rise in public displays of hatred (looking at you, Nazis), overbearing political correctness coupled with nonsensical censorship (looking at you, liberals), unabashed hypocrisy from those in charge as well as bending of the rules to gain political power outside the will of the people (shout out to government). Ok, so maybe the last one is more of a U.S. tradition instead of a new fad, but, now with all the world’s information at our fingertips, it is more apparent that we as a people are being trodden all over.

One example as to why our precious Gadsden flag is of no use to us anymore is the most obvious one- government. The assholes in expensive suits have forgotten what Colonel Gadsden and the founding fathers even fought for, getting out from under the boot of an oppressive regime. Sure, we’re not ruled by the crown anymore and nobody is going around collecting taxes at gunpoint, but the fact that every new Congress, every new president has absolutely not enacted any laws increasing our freedoms and right to privacy. Instead, these assholes do the opposite for only what I can assume is an effort to consolidate and strengthen their own power. Even though we can have a revolving door in all government bodies, the body itself can only exist with steadfast self-preservation. Without it, the institution would crumble and the nation would be in a constant state of chaos.

The United States government has always engaged in trampling on the rights and privacy of its citizens. In the early days, it would quash rebellions because the noisy wheel gets the grease, only in this scenario, the grease is the might of the U.S. Army. Then, of course, there is the overt oppression of the Native Americans. The government forced them from their native lands, set them up with “prime” real estate in fucking Oklahoma of all places and killed the ones that dared to stand up for themselves. As everyone witnessed in late 2016 and all of 2017 the government still wants to piss all over the right of the natives by shooting them with water cannons and send the dogs out because the indigenous wanted to protect their land from a private corporation running a messy pipeline through their sacred ground.

We can move along to the 20th century and see the imprisonment of Japanese Americans during World War II. The only thing that separated us from the Nazis is that we didn’t gas anyone. That was shortly followed by the attempts to snuff out various civil rights movements. When that didn’t work they resorted to a crusade against drug users. They figured, “Hey, it would be wrong to imprison them for exercising their right to free speech and assembly, but if we find a roach in their car’s ashtray…” All of this was done while parts of the government were working with and smuggling drugs for various cartels around the world. Guess what, it still happens.

The 21st century isn’t just continuing the practices of the preceding one but amplifying them. The prime example is the actions of the U.S. government after the events on 9/11. Whether or not you believe the attacks were an inside job isn’t important here, but the way the government responded is. Systematically, the government has been making shit harder for damn near everyone. Airport security, the militarization of the police, illegal warrantless wiretapping, continuing to fight seemingly unwinnable wars, Trump and his goddamn border wall, attempting to repeal laws making healthcare more accessible, cracking down on whistleblowers, non-investment in infrastructure, divide and conquer mentality… Do you feel as safe and secure as you did just 10 years ago? Has your life gotten easier as the size and scope of government have grown in tandem with the advancement of technology? If you’re like me, the answer is certainly, fuck no. Have you heard of the Patriot Act? Probably, but you don’t care because if you’re not doing anything wrong then you have nothing to worry about, right? The worst part is that as a society, we don’t have the balls to truly take on the established order and get out from under the boot of this oppressive regime made up of not just the government but all the oligarchs who fund it.

I would expect governments taking steps to hinder the rights of its citizens, power corrupts and all that shit. What’s upsetting though is that the people of these United States would seemingly rather spend their time arguing on Facebook than standing up for the values they preach about. The Land of the free. The home of the brave. Remember that shit, you hear it all the fucking time. Is that even the case any longer? Did we forget that’s part of our anthem, our musical mission statement? Take a look around. We’re not that free, or it least it seems we aren’t. The question is though, are we still brave? Protesting speakers at university campuses, escalating an argument when someone has a different belief, revoking friendship on social media, telling people they don’t have any right because they’re a man- or white- or both, not wanting others to do with their body as they choose, telling people where they can or can’t worship… not really brave to me. Looks like we’re just scared of words when sticks and stones are still the real threat. And behaving like this is certainly not allowing people to exercise freedom. But one thing I know about people (myself included) is that we’re all assholes.

Should we as sovereign citizens really hinder a person’s right to free speech and group’s right to peacefully assemble? Short answer, no. Long answer, hell fucking no. It shouldn’t matter if the speaker is a Nazi, they have their audiences. It shouldn’t matter if it’s a Klan rally downtown. The thing about America is that even though you may not agree with whatever bullshit they’re trying to push, everyone is allowed by the constitution to peacefully assemble and say what they want to say as long as physical violence isn’t involved.

Free speech and demonstration shouldn’t be limited to those you agree with. It’s for everybody, like oxygen and taxes. You might think you’re brave for taking a stand and fighting to get that hate monger fired from their speaking gig, but you’re not. You might think you’re brave for shutting down your asshole uncle for praising Donald Trump at Thanksgiving dinner, again, probably not. Your rage and your yelling and your stupid signs, that’s not bravery. Sure, the act of protesting can be brave and defiant, but when you use that right to get a guy fired because he said one time that affirmative action is bullshit, c’mon… That’s cowardice. You’re scared of hearing differing viewpoints. Is the big bad talker scaring you? Have their words caused you harm? Did someone’s facebook post have you instantly hitting the unfriend button? If you answered yes to any of these then I say to you, quit being scared of facts or opinions and learn to debate them in a civilized manner. Hear people out with opposing viewpoints. You might learn something of you might just see how ridiculous what they’re saying is. We can’t be considered brave when safe spaces are a thing. Be nicer to each other is all I’m saying.

We’re scared of people on the other team, willing to subvert constitutional law-given rights and be ugly to each other, and allow a government with its media mouthpieces keep us divided. And just like that crazed, blind snake eating its tail, we can’t tell of the actual harm were are doing as a nation. If we want to continue this ride we’re on we need to stop and think about how this shit should be. Have a talk about what a society is, what a community is and see if there’s a better way forward. A little more kindness and an understanding of the fact that we’re all in this together can go a long way. Elementary school history tells you that Lincoln said, “A house divided cannot stand,” before the Civil War. History might not repeat itself, but it does rhyme. So let's have a flag that closely represents what we are now. A snake that is less of a danger to others and more of a danger to ourselves.

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

ACCA 2 | Nanbaka 16 | SGRS 16 | Marginal #4 2 | Classicaloid 15 | Blue Exorcist: Kyoto Saga 2 - 3 | D Gray Man Hallow 1 | ReLIFE 2 - 6

The idea for D Gray Man Hallow from now on: Once all 2016 shows are done (rewatches or not), expect the 2016 ranking.

(ACCA 2)

What in Dante’s Inferno? I’m properly listening to the OP as it was intended in the anime…and it doesn’t quite look like what I expected.

I don’t like tomatoes, so no bread for me.

This is a cute…albeit unconventional way to introduce the series’ core concepts. Also, acorn berets.

Kabocha = pumpkin, while murasaki = purple. That’s made from purple lettuce, so I don’t blame ‘em for calling it that.

Mushroomhead = Rail.

I thought ACCA paid really high if he got cigarettes for free.

Oh no, is Nino going to go against Jean?

Bihinshitsu = equipment room.

2m 22 cm is over 6 foot…wow.

Walnut-topped cake filled with nuts.

The systems managers seem really incompetent…I suspect something’s up.

The guys all deilberately seem to have the same face.

A-hah. As I thought. (Dang you, title spoiler.)

If this ED were to evolve, it would be even better than Yuri on Ice’s OP. (That’s saying something.) Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be happening…

Doesn’t seem like there’ll be any title spoilers next time either.

(Nanbaka 16)

I’m less likely to skip Rin! Rin! Hi! Hi! than some of the other Ops when I’m watching. That does make it slightly unwieldy as a rewatching show, though.

“Wow, he’s trash.” – Dat me.

Samon has a brother?

In a world full of filial piety, the worst one can do is to insult someone else’s family.

I’m not very good with “kept secret” stories, which is why I’m trying to do “Next to Me” well enough…at least to my standards, anyway. My standards are very high, you know.

They must’ve done something to the snacks…

(Showa Genroku: Sukeroku Futatabi-hen 3)

The fireworks are so lifelike in this ep!

Daiku Shirabe…I found out about the story from an ANN article, so I should’ve seen its appearance coming…“Tamaya” is something you yell during fireworks displays. Apparently it was the name of a fireworks company somewhere along the line.

The flattening refers to how Yota had to bow for forgiveness, but I think I kinda explained that already.

“Shinuchissei”…Yota seems to slur the end of his sentences.

I actually went “WHAT?!” at Yota not being fazed by the big daddy boss.

Note for later: The baby (I heard his name was Shinnosuke) was born November 23rd.

The jazz soundtrack really sells this show.

...so this is the rant from Daiku Shirabe. It’s fast (compared to even the usual), but it has lots of heart. Plus the showcasing of the tattoo really did its significance justice.

I think the bridge is called Matsubashi (Pine Bridge).

Yota could’ve fabricated the shaking of his hands.…wow. Yota has such yaoi hands. Just what you’d expect from a former BL artist.

I thought Yakumo was more of a cat person. Whose dog is Hanako?

Aw. I felt sorry for Matsuda, even if I have a suspicion he feigned those tears. Well, regardless, now I know Matsuda has grandkids anyway…so win win.

I knew he was either summoning the master Sukeroku II pissed off or Sukeroku himself.

“Tou-chan” was an unexpected nickname I didn’t think Konatsu would use.

Update: I thought about it, and even Shinnosuke’s name takes after the legacy. Remember? Sukeroku used to be called Shin! 

(Marginal #4 2)

One of the things that makes this show stand out is the space-styled episode titles.

Ooh. Pretty cherry blossoms.

Pan shots. Of course.

I know this isn’t the sort of show that gets too much coverage, and I even think it looks a bit ugly at times (not to mention a bit weird) but when you’re not caught up on most of the other big idol shows, this is the best you can do.

I think game boy (orange twin…er, aka R)’s trying too hard with his terms.

Now that Atom is talking about heart, it really does look like he’s a Toshiki Masuda character through and through, although he doesn’t look very angry when he sounds angry. I’ll chalk that up to the art department.

“Don’t think, feel” seems to be attributed to lots of places, so I don’t know the original source. However, since game boy (um, aka R) cites a movie star, it’s apparently Bruce Lee (if my Google-fu serves me right).

L makes stuff sound deeeeep.

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?! Rui wasn’t surprised by the juice.

Atom is such a Ryuu sometimes...

…okay, enough with the underwear jokes…The twin jokes are a bit weird. Plus the ships can be smelt from a mile away…but that’s not enough to save a show.

“Ore-sama”? I only just realised Atom uses such a term.

Enough about the lucky underwear! *flips table*

Oh, I saw Ayanokouji in the background at one point.

I’m with Rui most times, including the need for deduction.

I’m still questioning the sanity of someone who wrote an entire episode plot about lucky underwear.

Alright, since I feel brain dead after that, I’m going to drop it, meaning ACCA is the show that forges ahead. Well, I’m lucky I was hoping to watch FLCL to fill in the gap once I’m done with my 3 remaining rewatches at this point in time (ReLIFE, D Gray Man, Morose Mononokean). The latter two will have, from ep 7, fresh impressions, so hopefully you can look forward to them.  

(Classicaloid 15)

Selfies: a worldwide phenomenon…I never got into that stuff, but if I were to analyse ‘em, I’d say they tap into the human need to be self centred.

There’s something sad about seeing someone rejected, eve if that someone is a piece of trash like Sousuke…

The game the Classicaloids are playing appears to be a game of Life.

Unfortunately, Kanae’s right…again. Sad life for you, Sousuke.

Motz literally became a flippin’ Akoya, right down to wearing a dress. Plus, the Amazon brigade came back.

Aw, I really felt for the glasses guy, even if briefly.

“Basics of Programming”? Don’t need that for Garage Band, Sousuke.

Hanted house and cosplay café...

…eh? Tchaiko still calls herself a former member of Cla:Kla?

Oh. I never realised until now, but Hamamatsu + festival (matsuri) = Hamamatsuri.

With that song (Sousuke’s song), it’s a sad blooper reel.

(Blue Exorcist: Kyoto Saga ep 2)

I got a wallpaper of Shima trying not to laugh (it was from the official Blue Exorcist anime page, but only for a period around Shima’s b’day). So this ep is where it comes from.

“Bon” means “young master” anyway, so it doesn’t matter.

“…a herbal tea antidote…”

Kyoto is meant to be the imperial capital…at least around the 1700s, it was the imperial capital.

Mamushi means “pit viper”. She’s not one to mess with.

He’s got some reflexes, that Ryuji.

Uwabami is also a type of snake…I forgot which one though.

Wait, Uwabami’s the man?! Uwabami was a woman in Oumagadoki Zoo…

Seriously, are they all getting drunk on juice…? Oh, okay. So that’s what happened.

(ep 3)

Rin’s shirt says “Sankyu” in goroawase and English, LOL.

Even if you love weeds, please don’t smoke ‘em, kids.

I thought Rin was going to pull a Shaft head tilt out of nowhere when he looked back at Konekomaru.

Update: For efficiency, the tag for this one is “Chesarka watches AoEx”. However, I don’t normally refer to it as such. I’d probably refer to it as “Ao Eku” if I wee speaking (due to the season 1 DVD extras), but “Blue Exorcist” is the shortest mode of the name I’d use in typing format.

(D Gray Man Hallow ep 1)

I am familiar with this source material, so do be aware of that. However, I didn’t finish the anime the first time around, so do be aware of that too.

Sometimes the art style for this anime can be a little off. The noses can be a little too pointy and too close to the eyes, so on and so forth.Allen doesn’t even look like he’s blushing with this art style too…that’s a bit of a disappointment.

Even the golems have it in for each other…LOL.

Johnny has apparently been stealing the spotlight for quite some time, but I haven’t noticed it all that much. Probably because I read volumes 21 – 24 in one go…

I think.Cross Marian looks more like Grelle (Black Butler) than ever in colour.

Why does Lenalee have such a short skirt?

When even the masked guy has a sweatdrop, you know there’s trouble.

(ReLIFE ep 2)

Unfortunately for Kariu, I understand there is no “next time”…

I’ve found out even at 18, people don’t judge two people of different gender sitting together eating lunch…of course, cultural standards notwithstanding.

Stud earrings are fine if you play sports, I think.

According to Google-sensei, it’s only about $11, my country’s money. It’s not that much if you work…but knowing Japanese standards (which say you should focus on getting into uni before getting a job), it does seem a bit much for someone who doesn’t work and doesn’t get any allowance. So in a weird way, it does make sense to me.

...but you took Kariu’s hand when she offered you the rubber, Arata?

Hey, that joke was in Erased too.

Kazu-kun = Karamatsu…kinda. LOL.

I always seemed to understand Hishiron, and yet also understand Arata to some extent too. Maybe I’m the perfect in-between for these two. Probably because I tend to break off friendships as soon as the year ends, and yet prior friendships are a core part to my social strategy.

Unfortuately, the downside to “minimalistic” is that it’s obvious when it goes off model.

LINE sticker…LOL. LINE’s very popular in Japan.

(ep 3)

I’ve wondered whether Yayoi Sou is a lady or not. Considering the circumstances, it probably is that Sensei is a female.

Hideyo is the dude on the 1000 note, obviously.

Ah…fitness tests. The bane of youth. No one says “stupid loud” though.

Oh. Tamarai’s there around the time of Asaji’s throw.

Lookit that rabbit on Usa-sensei’s shirt. No one says “crazy athletic” either…you outdated subbers.

Akira (Inukai) is kinda like Yurio, come to think of it, eh?

Didn’t you just say it yourself (about you being old) though, Arata?

Yoake literally had a blank face there, LOL.

There appears to be a Sato GP on the way to Aoba. Huh.

Ah…a show’s a real classic if it makes you laugh every time…

(ep 4)

Where’s the guy who does sad interpretations of OPs and EDs? (This guy.)

I know your feels, Kariu. (see the Tumblr debacle for an instance of this)

There appears to be something about whales near the fishtank.

The cityscapes in this are so nice.

There’s a map of Japan on one wall of Kaizaki’s place.

Go forth, young Kariu! Pick up your fallen balls! (teehee)

CGI balls, LOL.

It’s creepy (but also dramatic) when the lights of the eyes are the last to move.

(ep 5)

Sumire! Her name means “violet” (the flower).

There are some nuances lost in translation, like yappari and the levels of formality…but those are typically lost.

This “lecture” is probably the highest point you can get in the show (so far). It’s times like this you can really see an author’s strengths in storytelling.

The piano really sells the Hishiro/Kaizaki meeting.

What a strange angle that “lean to the left” shot is.

I’ve found out swear words have a lot of leeway when it comes to levels of “oh no”. These swar words include yabai and temee. Due to the context of Wan! and the fact it was Chuuya who kept using them, I went with the nastier variants [in my scanlating days] but sometimes a non-swearing variant is enough. However, kirai (to dislike) is pretty nasty if you use it in Japanese.

Kaizaki’s delivery of these lines really sells their comedic effect. The electronic keyboard makes it sound like night, but also makes it sound 1) like night and 2) creepy, for some reason.

Freeter is almost as bad as NEET, Kaizaki.

There appears to be a 100 man (10 thousand) coin bank behind Yoake, which makes that...1000000 yen. (chorus in back: One million yen?!)

(ep 6)

Apparently someone tried to type the same Japanese words into Google and didn’t get the same results, LOL.

Hishiron uses a Mac, LOL.

“Thanks for having us” probably isn’t the right words for it. Ojamashimasu means “sorry for intruding”, but it sounds heavily formal when translated, so I can see why the subbers did what they did though.

*laughs* MDs (minidiscs)? I know what they are, even though they’re meant to be completely dead by now. Apparently they’re a product of the 90s that never caught on..although I admit I’ve never used an MD in my life, let alone held one. It does kinda look like a floppy disc, though. (chorus in back: You poke through old stuff too much, don’t you?)

Those fadeout cups are so cool! I want one.

Ah, maths. The sad thing about my life is that up until a certain point I was good at maths. Then the hard stuff came up and I started to fail.

I thought it was Third Street Oga was talking about, but it’s 3rd chome, sort of like a suburb.

Knowing An, she may have deliberately put Oga out of the way for her own purposes…if you know what I mean.

CGI car just ruined the suspenseful mood, dangit.

Sometimes I just turn off my volume and turn on some music on Spotify. That way, you can make your own soundtrack.

Why did Arata have such a dumb face in the thought bubble?

Wow, she’s a real fujoshi, that one [An].

“Dude”? I cringe so much at her use of it, despite the fact I use it myself. 

You liar, Onoya. Knowing who subject 1 was means that I know they couldn’t have even thought about that part…

[talltalestogo]

Los Angeles is a madman’s prayer wrapped inside a murderous dream.

It’s homeless on sidewalks and hustlers in the hills. It’s laborers and housekeepers, and billboards of lust, dystopia, apes, robots, Chewbaccas, Kim and Kanye, and Lady Gaga’s newest thing. It’s clear skies, no mosquitoes and laser-sculpted people with money, hedgerows and sins. A crime writer can make of it what he or she wants, like “Westworld” or a lover who gives you a kiss and a key, and one day changes the locks.

The city is the seething, sexy capital of noir. It is an illicit urge — a trick of possibility — slinking like a con -man’s ruse into a novelist’s imagination. Transgressions pile up and the skyline is newly pricked, rising above vintage bungalows that sell for a million-plus and are gutted and remade for the conceits and dark angels of a new century.

Raymond Chandler knew Los Angeles was both lie and delusion. A bitter candyland, where paradise betrays, and men talk tough and women know the score. The city is desire and the demons beneath, a metropolis where virtue is transactional and shifting façades, like so many Hollywood sets, mask cruelty and indifference. Not forever but long enough to make one wonder whether Michael Connelly’s reticent and resilient Det. Harry Bosch will in the end find peace in his creed: “Everybody counts or nobody counts.”

“Telling something new about this place is what defines a great L.A. crime novel,” said Connelly, whose new book, “The Night Fire,” which pairs Bosch with Det. Renee Ballard, will be published Tuesday. “Not imitating what has been done in the past but taking those influences and inspirations, putting it in a blender with your own experiences and ideas, mixing on purée and pouring out something unique about this unique place.”

Los Angeles is at once a stereotype and piercingly its own, a mountain lion caught in traffic, a cumbia gliding through a hymn. It is a surfer’s sunset, a Santa Ana gust, a wildfire, a canyon howl, a glittering mural, a whispered hate, a body in a street. Like the men and women in its crime novels, the city, a multicultural diary of splendor and hurt, is its own character: grisly, sinister, smooth, sly, urbane, verbose, sparse, fatalistic, celebratory, hopeful and occasionally as doomed as James Ellroy’s “Black Dahlia.”

“All books about Los Angeles have a little bit of noir in them. The city, after all, demands it,” said David L. Ulin, a former Times books editor, author and editor of “Writing Los Angeles: A Literary Anthology.” “This is a place where many people come out of their aspiration — to get famous, to get rich, to get away. Noir is what happens when they don’t get what they’re looking for; noir is what happens in the aftermath ... when desperation sets in. That’s one of the central stories of Los Angeles.”

Writers and readers have many takes on what makes the definitive L.A. crime novel: “An L.A. noir book must unfold in the darkness of L.A,” said T. Jefferson Parker, whose latest book is “The Last Good Guy.” “It can be old or contemporary. It’s a mood, not a time.” Steph Cha, author of “Your House Will Pay,” a compelling new novel exploring the city’s racial tensions, is less particular: “I figure if it’s got crime in it, and it takes place in Los Angeles, it qualifies.”

The city’s noir is a puzzle of flawed heroes and devious interlopers: cops, private eyes, assassins, gamblers, schemers and femme fatales looking not so much for absolution as for a reckoning that will edge them through another day. Or not. From Philip Marlowe to Easy Rawlins, crime novel sleuths know that human nature, whether in Watts or Beverly Hills, is balanced between reward and tragedy, and that a soul — its tender wants, grievous yearnings and amoral fascinations — is a peculiar, hard-to-reconcile thing.

“I’ve always been drawn to the beautiful loser or the unwitting dupe,” said Tod Goldberg, author of “Gangster Nation.” “Characters like Roy Dillon in Jim Thompson’s ‘The Grifters’ or, of course, Tod Hackett in Nathanael West’s ‘The Day of the Locust,’ characters too smart by half to be wrapped up in the lives they’ve chosen. Issues of identity have always run through the best crime novels of our region, each of us ruled by who we think we are versus who reality has shown us to be, difficult circumstances in a world where seemingly half the people we encounter are employed in make-believe for their living.”

Chandler’s wry cynicism, tinged sadness and clever asides (“Such a lot of guns around town and so few brains”) infused his novels, including “The Big Sleep” and “The Long Goodbye,” with a hard-boiled sophistication that would influence crime writers and filmmakers for generations. The 1946 movie version of his Marlowe (Humphrey Bogart/“The Big Sleep”) was a near perfect union of book and film, one that showed how indivisible noir literature and cinema would become even as crime movies lost their suave double entendres to expletives and gratuitous gunplay.

“I don’t think there’s any other genre that is so intertwined as the crime genre with film and novel,” said Don Winslow, author of “The Border” and “The Cartel.” “You can’t separate them. They have been informed by each other from the time they started rolling the camera. Noir particularly. Look, I never sat in my office as a PI where a trumpet started and a long-legged blond walked into the room. It was my wife, and I was home with a jazz record on, but that soundtrack of noir informs me when I sit down to write.”

In more recent decades, voices from diverse communities have articulated the texture and resonance of the city’s multiethnic landscape. What defines Los Angeles is being shot through different prisms. Hector Tobar’s “The Tattooed Soldier” brings the enmities of the Guatemalan civil war to the L.A. Riots. Japanese American novelist Joe Ide has sketched a wonderfully clever thinking-man’s sleuth in his “IQ” series. Cha has delivered Juniper Song, an edgy and inventive Korean American private investigator. Walter Mosley’s proud and enduring Rawlins — a World War II vet with a taste for real estate and temptation — journeys into racism and social inequities faced by African Americans.

The Rawlins books “present a side of L.A. so real that I have no doubt it exists,” said writer Bette Ross. “In my mind, I see streets of modest houses, some with rusted cars in the yard, some yards well-kept with flowers, hints about the people who live there. Personal expectations are built from different parameters. ... Justice is tempered by implacable, sometimes vicious reality.”

“For so many decades,” said Daniel Olivas, author and editor of the anthology “Latinos in Lotusland,” “people of color in Los Angeles really were nothing more than props and ugly stereotypes in ‘classic’ noir fiction.” He praised Yxta Maya Murray’s novel “Locas” for capturing the lives of Chicanas “living in the gang-ravaged Los Angeles neighborhood of Echo Park. ... But in this novel, women of color are at its center rather than being relegated to mere plot points, sexual conquests or incidental appearances.”

Reality here is a tease with a bullet, a come-on for a setup. In his 1981 novel, “A Savage Place,” Robert B. Parker called Los Angeles “the last hallucination, the dwindled fragment of — what had Fitzgerald called it? — ‘the last and greatest of all human dreams.’ It was where we’d run out of room, where the dream had run up against the ocean, and human voices woke us. Los Angeles was the butt end, where we’d spat it out with our mouths tasting of ashes, but a genial failure of a place for all that.”

It is the lonely heart beating inside the wreckage, where characters confront history and themselves, such as Jackie Ishida, a Japanese American woman in Nina Revoyr’s “Southland,” who examines the life of her grandfather in a story that is an intimate and sweeping look at Los Angeles’ diversity and danger. Like a smart dame — a derringer in her sequined clutch — outwitting a patsy, the story of the city is a protagonist’s search for answers no matter how unseemly.

“For me,” said Ide, “L.A. noir is about a lone, determined character, trying to find a way through a perilous, capricious, multilayered city. Sometimes to seek justice, sometimes just to survive.”