#officer bega

[s30620]

Chapter 150: This Guy's a Pain

Our duo of gentlemen with low-paying jobs have arrived! Rokuro is so funny, he's doing his job even in a situation like this. You can literally do anything with the nanobots and you turn them into a convenience store check out counter lol. Officer Bega is also here, arresting everybody in sight, he's too funny.

If you didn't know, Unji/Brella Boy is referencing the book/musical "Les Miserables" with a few of his lines. Also, I like that he compared Officer Bega to Javert, since they're similar characters. Both are cops/law enforcement, and they both have very single-mided view on justice.

Also wanted to highlight this Momokarun moment. Okarun can't use his powers in this world, so as a last resort to protect Momo he covers her head, which is a very vital part of the body. Good job Okarun. Plus, he was carrying Momo and running around the battlegrounds, he's so strong now!

[averagemrfox]

We’re just doing some Batman shit now lmao

[zombie-eats-world]

Just caught up on the Dandadan manga and y’all!!!! People warned me about Vamola’s backstory being heartbreaking so I prepared myself! But could none of you give me a hint about the heart wrenching story of Zuma?!? I walked into that tear fest blind and sobbed for an hour before I could finish it and get my heart stomped on again by Officer Bega!

[idrawprettyboys]

“If you cried out for more, if you reached out for me, I would run into the storm, just to keep you here with me. I have gone beyond my years. I’ve wasted half my life. But I found it all in you. Did I save you? ‘Cause I know you saved me too.”- Stone Sour, Song #3

[gallus-rising]

[q1ngqve]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT you’re hired by sigewinne as her assistant in meropide and wriothesley fell in love at first sight 😵‍��ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི he’d injure himself on purpose just to visit the infirmary to see you :( tells you he lost the fights at the pankration ring and you being new, doesn’t know that he is clearly lying, so you bandage him up nicely even adding a cute bow whenever you’re happy!!!!

[architectureofdoom]

Selezione office building, Milan, Melchiorre Bega & Rendo Durand de la Penne, 1970

[lordsovorn]

I kinda like how Dandadan leaves its main cast of weird teenagers to do their thing and then shifts to equally ridiculous adults.

Even officer Bega is there.

[toweringclam]

Dandadan OC: The Hat Man

Note: This is written in the format of a mid-arc wiki article. I'll post the third entry in this series later, discussing the big twist of the arc.

Other Names: The Tall Man, The Slender Man, the Grinning Man, Men in Black, Ingrid Cold Race: Unknown Home Planet: Unknown Gender: Male? Status: Active Affiliation: US Government (Former) Combat Style: Stalking, Shapeshifting, Reality Alteration

The Hat Man is an entity of unknown origin stalking Jackie Kumamoto, a former apprentice of Seiko Ayase. It serves as the primary antagonist of the Hat Man arc.

Appearance

The Hat Man has a highly variable appearance. It can vary in height from around 7 feet tall to upwards of 12 feet tall. Most often it lacks a face, just blank skin in the vague approximation of facial features. However, sometimes its skin will split and peel back to reveal a wide, toothy grin or lidless eyes. It doesn't seem to need these features and may just display them to frighten others. It seems to be able to grow extra arms (its clothes adjusting accordingly), in addition to extending tendrils from its back. Regardless, It's always wearing a black suit and tie with its signature wide-brimmed fedora hat, and it carries a briefcase in one left arm that it never opens. It's also pasty white and impossibly thin, with long and spindly arms.

The exception to this fluidity of form is its disguise as "Agent Ingrid Cold," which resembles a normal, stockily built, middle-aged human male. It appears to have some trouble retaining this form though, as its face gradually became more distorted the longer it talked to Officer Bega.

Personality

From its actions, the Hat Man appears to have a sadistic personality that takes great pleasure in causing as much fear and pain as possible in its victims. According to Kinta while acting as a Proxy, its only wish is for "humanity to die screaming." However, given his dramatic nature, this might not be accurate.

While its default form is mute, it's able to speak in its disguise as "Agent Ingrid Cold," but it displays a flat and neutral affect very different from its normal behavior. It also does a very poor job of imitating a human beyond the superficial, displaying strange behaviors like eating a bar of soap when offered or pouring hot coffee into its hand.

It seems to be under some form of binding, and while the full rules are unknown, some of those rules appear to include restrictions on who is a valid target and where it can manifest. Sometimes, when it comes up against one of these restraints, shackles appear on its arms and legs, and it visibly strains against them.

Background

Little is known about its background. At some point, it worked for the US government by intimidating witnesses to the paranormal or even making them disappear. Ingrid Cold's ID expired in 1993, however, so this may no longer be the case. The pattern that appears on its shackles matches the Serpoans' true forms, so it's likely they might have been involved somehow.

At some point shortly prior to the current arc, Jackie Kumamoto attempted an exorcism in America that went badly. The victim was not, in fact, possessed, but rather being used as a proxy by the Hat Man. This brought her in contact with him and made her his new primary target. Believing that she was certainly going to die, she returned to the Ayase household to make arrangements, unwittingly bringing the Hat Man along with her.

Powers & Abilities

Natural Abilities

Physical Prowess

Godly Physical Attributes: In terms of strength, speed, agility, and stamina, the Hat Man is unmatched. It's able to move faster than Okarun and outmaneuver Aira in their yokai forms, and can easily overpower the Evil Eye. No attack so far has been shown to harm it in any meaningful way. There may be limitations, as it has retreated when faced with heavy enough opposition, but thus far those limitations are unknown.

Mental Prowess

Tactical Intellect: The Hat Man is intelligent and manipulative, stalking and intimidating its victims to isolate them and drive them insane before claiming them.

Skill Set

Stealth: Despite its alarming appearance, the Hat Man is extremely adept at stalking its prey and remaining just out of sight. Its victims rarely notice it, though it makes a point to be visible in photographs and videos.

Supernatural Abilities

Shapeshifting: The Hat Man has incredible control over its form, able to grow and shrink in size, alter the number and shape of its of limbs, add and remove facial features, etc. However, it has difficulty maintaining a disguise as a human (though it seemed to have less trouble in flashbacks).

Mind Control: It has the ability to control certain people's minds and create "sleeper agents" called Proxies. They victims retain their original personalities but are twisted to the Hat Man's ends. Proxies don't know they're Proxies until the Hat Man decides to activate them. It appears that this effect is induced by seeking out information about the Hat Man, and can be blocked by a thin sheet of metal over the head (IE, a tin foil hat)

Empty Space Mastery: The Hat Man shows a greater control over Empty Space than any other creature in the series. It can warp reality at will, often creating impossible looping environments or teleporting people from one location to another. However, doing so weakens its Empty Space, which allowed Okarun to break through the membrane and make reality reassert itself.

Image Manipulation: The Hat Man is able to manifest through any image of itself. It can also "infect" images, placing a version of itself in the image for later use.

Notes

As of right now it is unclear what exactly The Hat Man is. It has traits similar to a spirit (invisible to people without spiritual awareness), yet its ability to assert Empty Space marks it as extraterrestrial.

[runescrepes]

no one cares but i must share my thoughts on momo and zuma cause ik they will be misinterpreted!!!

(ship them if you want tho, it’s you’re life and the ship is very cute and wholesome)

spoilers for the manga below the break

ok, so.

off the bat we’re shown what kinda relationship dynamic momo and zuma have. it’s lighthearted, they’re both smart yet are sharing two brain cells, it’s super funny and wholesome honestly. it’s cool seeing momo having to work without the help of okarun as her right hand too.

firstly, i think this arc does a great job of showcasing momo’s actual feelings towards okarun. no one is disagreeing that she has feelings towards him, but you really see just how much she thinks about him the whole time she’s stuck in danmara.

there’s even this clever transition to show she’s dreaming of him

now that that’s established, let’s talk about the inn scene itself.

when they arrive they realize they have to share a bed, a common romance trope that i’m sure tatsu put there on purpose.

like all of tatsu’s romance red herrings, we’re lead a bit to believe they’ll actually share the bed. however, zuma quickly brushes that idea aside by telling momo she can have the “first shift” of sleep, while he waits in the hall.

this scene is mirrored when momo says zuma can shower and have the first shift, while she waits in the hall.

i feel this is meant to establish a few things about their relationship. one, it’s meant to place them on a even playing field. they’re both being respectful to one another and are total strangers having to work together. we see zuma outwardly slap his face to clear his head. i think this is less like okarun telling himself not to think momo is cute, and more like zuma ridding himself of some lingering nerves about the situation. i think momo was feeling the same, she just didn’t react in the way zuma did. either way, they both seem to calm each other by saying the other will wait outside, making them both say “cool” to themselves.

afterwards, zuma comes to get momo to sleep the first shift, helping her to the bed, where she says this in her half-sleep fog

interestingly this is zuma’s reaction

this is where i think a lot of people get the wrong idea of zuma’s or even momo’s feelings.

after hearing her say that, he tucks her in and sits outside the room to give her privacy, but also to think. once again i think this particular scene is meant to mirror momo sitting outside the room thinking of okarun. only instead of zuma thinking of the boy he likes, its the family he lost. his brother. perhaps he’s even thinking about his adoptive father, officer bega. momo was more than likely dreaming of okarun, so when zuma helped her into bed she may have mistaken zuma for him.

zuma, on the other hand, has that reaction because it reminded him of his family, more likely his little brother. how many times did he help his brother to bed, having to tuck him in so he wouldn’t fall asleep out of bed? did his brother ever ask him to say “i love you” when their dad passed and he wanted his big brother to comfort him? or maybe his mom did dreaming of her late husband.

i’ll continue in my roblog bc i can’t add more pics over mobile haha

[s30620]

Chapter 157: Bega Masamichi

So much love in this chapter. Unji's love for his brother, Officer Bega's love for Unji. I really like that Officer Bega set up the Zuma family grave for Unji, since he couldn't afford it. I also liked that Unji was vulnerable and finally able to express his feelings about the deaths of his family members, and Bega was there to listen to him. The meal they share, while previously Unji refused to give thanks and sit still, now he's accepting the care he's been given.

I also liked these pages of Momo and Okarun talking about the situation they're in. Momo feels so guilty, but nobody in the group (except maybe Turbo Granny) could have predicted this outcome. Okarun swearing that everything will be ok is very sweet 🥹

[krastbannert]

The Day of Days: Eighty Years After

It was a brisk summer night, almost like any other June night in England.

The terror of the Blitz was long over. Four years ago, the Battle of Britain long had been won. Two years ago in the Pacific the Americans had shocked the world with impossible victories at Midway and Guadalcanal.  A year ago, the last German forces had surrendered in North Africa, and the Communists of the Soviet Union had done the impossible and stopped the German war machine in its tracks at the gates of Stalingrad and Moscow before, finally, turning the tide at Kursk. A month early the British Army in India had stopped the Imperial Japanese Army in its tracks at Kohima Ridge, and for the first time in three years the Japanese were on the run. Just a day before, the American Fifth Army had liberated Rome, freeing the "Eternal City" from fascism after twenty years.

They were winning - just. The war was still going on, ever-present in their minds, but they could sleep soundly under a quiet, friendly sky.

But in the dark, in army camps and airfields and naval bases and offices across the southwest of England, the scene was very different. Men whispered to each other, prayers and jokes, trying to lighten the tension in the air, so thick they could cut it with a knife. John Ford - the famed Hollywood director turned Navy Field Photographic unit captain - supposedly told his wife he was going off for a little local skirmish. And in his private office, Dwight D. Eisenhower - Commander, Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force - typed the resignation he hoped he'd never have to give. If the unthinkable happened, if this gamble failed...they might never get another chance.

All at once, all across the southwest of England, just before midnight, the quiet was shattered by the roar of thousands upon thousands of piston engines, and thousands of men, some barely out of high school, clambered aboard planes and landing craft for a journey into the dark.

Eisenhower penned a short note, and ensured that a copy was given to every single one of the men under his command. It read, very simply:

"You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you. In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world."

It was June 6th, 1944, and after three years of begging by Josef Stalin, and a year of intense planning, brutal training, unparalleled deception, and massive buildup, the time had come to do the impossible.

The Allies were going to break the Atlantic Wall, or die trying.

It was a herculean task. The Germans had spent four years preparing for just this day, filling every beach from Cherbourg to Amsterdam with every kind of mine imaginable, dotting Czech hedgehogs and wooden posts tipped with high explosives along the shallow coastlines, and building bunkers with encased machine guns and artillery, pre-sighting mortars and artillery, digging trenches and building tens of thousands of pillboxes, and digging enough anti-aircraft positions to turn night into day. In command was Erwin Rommel, the famed "Desert Fox", a veteran of the brutal World War I Italian front, and one of the best tank commanders in the world who had fought across France and North Africa. Under his command were almost half a million German troops, including battle hardened veterans of France, Africa, and Russia.

Standing against them, over a thousand planes and gliders carrying over 23,000 paratroopers from the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada. Behind them, thousands of fighters and bombers and almost seven thousand landing craft and ships carrying more than 160,000 men from thirteen nations.

The Day of Days began just after midnight.

At 00:48 on June 6th, 1944, the men of the 101st Airborne became the first of to make a terrifying jump into the dark.

It was the beginning of the single largest amphibious invasion ever attempted. Six hours after the paratroopers took the plunge, at 06:30 local time, the first men stumbled onto shore, and into the jaws of death.

Almost immediately, the entire plan fell apart. Fog, cloud cover, a lack of navigators, and brutal anti-aircraft fire forced many pilots to signal the paratroopers to drop outside their assigned zones, mixing units and men and causing absolute chaos on the ground. The weather in the channel was not much better: high seas swamped many of the landing craft and amphibious tanks, and strong currents pushed entire regiments out of their landing zones.

When the men finally made it to the beach, they faced a desperate run across the dreaded shingle: a nearly half-mile expanse of open sand and rock, with no protection at all from the waiting German defenders. Their fire support - the naval vessels waiting offshore, bristling with guns of all calibers - was of little help; the captains refused to close any farther than the extreme ranges for fear of counter fire. And the bad weather in the skies above prevented pilots from accurate close air support.

Over ten thousand men from both sides would have their lives ripped apart on beaches in just that first day.

On Omaha Beach alone, almost two thousand men were killed. Some didn't even get a chance to face the enemy - instead, they simply drowned, their heavy equipment weighing them down into the cold waters of the North Atlantic. The beaches themselves, its said, turned red with blood as men were killed by the dozen. At Gold, Juno, and Sword Beaches, the Canadians and British managed to make it off the beach, only to be forced into fortified towns, where they endured the brutality and chaos of house-to-house urban warfare. At Pointe du Hoc, between Omaha and Utah Beach, the U.S. 2nd Ranger Battalion were forced to scale a one hundred foot cliff under withering enemy fire, only to become totally cut off. When they were finally relieved after two days, only 65 of the original 200 men were left standing, and they were forced to use captured German weapons as theirs ran out of ammunition, resulting in some of their number being killed due to friendly fire.

The paratroopers faired even worse - of the more than 20,000 American paratroopers and aircrew who made the desperate flight across the Channel, it's estimated that more than twelve thousand were killed.

The carnage was unlike anything anyone in the Allied forces had seen before, unlike Operation Torch or El Alamein in North Africa, unlike the Miracle of Dunkirk or the Battle of Britain, unlike Guadalcanal and New Guinea, unlike Salerno, Anzio, and Sicily.

For this untold sacrifice, this bloody hell that almost two hundred thousand men endured, they had only managed to capture a few square miles, only two of five beaches were connected, and they had failed to capture a single major city or port. The Allies failed to achieve even one of their major objectives - save one.

After five years of war, the Allies had a foothold.

The mother of all Hail Mary's had worked.

By the end of D-Day, almost 160,000 men had crossed the Channel into Fortress Europe.

On D+6, the beaches were finally connected.

On D+7, the city of Carentan was freed by the 101st Airborne, the first major French town to be liberated.

By D+20, the port city of Cherbourg was taken, and the Cotentin Peninsula was free after four long years.

On D+50, the city of Caen was freed, and the objectives of D-Day had finally been completed. By this time, more than 1.5 million men from 15 nations had landed in Europe.

On D+70, the Allies landed on the beaches of Côte d'Azur, and in only four weeks broke the southern German front line, and liberated the entire south of France.

On D+76, the Falaise Pocket collapsed, and the Battle of Normandy was finally declared over in a resounding Allied victory.

Then, at long last, on D+80, General der Infanterie Dietrich von Cholitz, at 3:30 PM local time, surrended the city of Paris to General Phillipe Leclerc. After four years of occupation, the first Allied capital was free. The footage of that day has been called some of the most thrilling and ecstatic footage in history.

The march continued, and on D+89, the Welsh Guards marched into the Belgian capital of Brussels.

But the war was far from over - on D+193, the Wehrmacht launched Operation Nordwind; the Battle of the Bulge had begun. It would be Germany's last offensive, at the cost of hundreds of thousands of lives.

On D+274, the Allies crossed the Rhine, and liberated the Netherlands, and then finally entered Germany.

On D+303, the U.S. 4th Armored Division stumbled upon a scene of unimaginable cruelty: it was a camp named Ohrdruf, part of the Buchenwald complex, the first concentration camp to be liberated by the United States. Allied intelligence services had long suspected what was going on, that their were camps across Europe for Hitler's "undesirables", and the Allies had even signed a declaration making public and condemning the killing of Jews in Poland, but no one was prepared to see the true scale of the atrocities. Eisenhower demanded that every single piece of the camp be photographed, videotaped, and documented, that everyone possible be brought to see it to impress upon them the reality of what the Germans had done. Hollywood director George Stevens was given the task of making movies describing the horrors of the Holocaust, movies that were later shown to the world at the Nuremberg Trials. The movies were said to be the moment that changed the course of the Nuremberg Trials.

Then, on April 30th, 1945 - three-hundred and twenty eight days after the 'Longest Day' - Adolf Hitler, the man who had been the head of so much destruction, who had started the most destructive war in human history and presided over the worst genocide mankind has ever perpetrated, commits suicide in a bunker in Berlin.

Three days later, on May 2nd, 1945, the surrender of German Army Group C goes into effect, and the Gothic Line that had long since stymied the Allied advance in Italy finally collapses.

And on D+336, eleven months after landing on the beaches of France, Field Marshal Wilhelm Keitel would sign the German Instrument of Surrender, and the German Wehrmacht laid down its arms.

The Reich that Adolf Hitler had once boasted would last for a thousand years had fallen after just twelve.

The War in Europe was over.

Eleven months after he wrote it, the promise Eisenhower made to his men - the destruction of the German Army, the end of Nazi tyranny in Europe - had finally come true.

It had been five and a half long, blood-soaked years since the war in Europe began, but at long last, Europe was free. It would takes years, even decades, to rebuild from the destruction, but finally, there was a tomorrow to live for.

Eighty years on, we still grapple with their sacrifice, and the choices they made afterwards in the world they built. But because of them, we were given a tomorrow to argue in - and a tomorrow to live for. All because thousands from across the world stepped onto a small, windswept beach, and seared the name of Normandy into history.

[grandpa-kita]

Blader DJ: the drama witness - GIF edition

Starring Michael Scott (The Office) as Blader DJ, Bladebreakers and Neoborg (initially it was supposed to include everyone but in the process I realised that the big drama is always between these two teams no joke)

Blader DJ when...

The Russian tournament kicked off and Yuriy won against Eddie from the All Stars in literally 2 seconds

Boris/Bryan Kuznestov threw a piece of debris into poor Rei's stomach (spoiler: Boris/Bryan didn't listen to him)

Kai Hiwatari left the Bladebreakers to join the Blitzkrieg Boys and effortlessly stole 7 bit-beasts with Black Dranzer

He found himself in front of an iceberg in the middle of the stadium inside which Yuriy created another dimension to battle Takao while perfectly managing 10 bit-beasts and people all around the world shitted their pants

Kai left the Bladebreakers again one year later to join Neoborg

Takao and Daichi lost their first match of the tournament because they were too busy yelling at each other

Kenny's poor bey fell apart after Yuriy's first Novae Rog

Straight after that Takao appeared out of nowhere, tried to jump over the railing to get into the stadium, Daichi started yelling at him, Takao yelled back that he wanted to play against Yuriy, Yuriy replied he didn't care, Kai commented he was scared and they started to argue, everyone was arguing and big drama ensued while the audience stood there watching

After the drama Daichi defeated Yuriy thanks to Kenny's help, teamwork and mutual trust

In Cairo Miguel really thought he had beaten Kai Hiwatari with just two flames

Kai threw away his scarf destroying half stadium and began cracking his knuckles in the semifinal against Rei

He's about to restart the match between Takao and Kai after they've destroyed the stadium and both collapsed on the ground but he's happy because wow the spirit of Beyblade

After the world tournament he blindly accepted the job at Volkov's BEGA unaware of what it really meant

Kai changed team again and joined BEGA

Yuriy turned out to be a good man who loves beyblade with all his heart and risked his life to stop BEGA and protect all other bladers and fans

The Bladebreakers managed to win against BEGA and yes he should be impartial but deep down he's always rooted for those guys

Bonus: Blader DJ threatening Kai Hiwatari if he dares to change team one more time

[turuin]

9 people you would like to get to know better. I was tagged by @pianetatschai ❤

1. 3 ships: Arcadia, Millennium Falcon, Argo

2. first ever ship: the Hispaniola

3. last song: Mambo No. 5 (A little bit of...) - Lou Bega (DON'T ASK)

4. last movie: Who Framed Roger Rabbit

5. currently reading: Blood Meridian - Cormac Mc Carthy

6. currently watching: Finished Castlevania:Nocturne (😭) I'll go on with The Office while I run the treadmill.

7. currently consuming: My liver.

8. currently craving: peace of mind, as always, or at least peace of the sense.

tagging: @crisigenerica @melancholic-narf @melancolje @mrs-emptiness @mandorloinfiore @enchantinglyenchanted @acribiamagmatica @lablablaologa @silenziodorato

[francyfan-bukowsky]

JOHN MARTIN , l’editore che scopri e lancio Buk🖤wski……

—————————

Cento dollari al mese per il resto della vita, per mollare il lavoro alle Poste e fare lo scrittore a tempo pieno. Nessuna noia, bega e seccatura con uffici stampa, reading e conferenze, o quasi. Alla distribuzione avrebbe pensato lui, la moglie Barbara avrebbe disegnato le copertine. Non ci volle molto a convincere Charles Bukowski, nel 1969, a partecipare all'impresa semifamiliare di John Martin: un atto temerario, un salto nel buio per entrambi. John si stava giocando un quarto delle sue entrate per mantenerlo e tentare una sfida dal cui esito sarebbe dipeso il loro futuro, ormai in condivisione. Per Charles non sarebbe stato facile rimettersi a bussare a 50 anni alle porte di magazzini, macelli e ditte di facchinaggio. Si dice che dietro ogni uomo di successo ci sia una grande donna (e viceversa). E questo è senz'altro vero per Bukowski, che s'accasò la sua Linda Lee dopo una lunga raccolta di Donne riassunte nel '78. Ma se oggi le frasi con cui lo scrittore americano semplicemente inframmezzava i dialoghi sono diventate aforismi stracondivisi in Rete, e se le case editrici continuano a raschiare il fondo dei cassetti delle stamberghe in cui ha soggiornato per pubblicare l'impubblicato, bisogna ringraziare un mite, sobrio, discreto ingegnere - perfino un po' bacchettone - che la sera, tornato a casa da lavoro, dopo aver cenato con moglie e figlia, si rilassava sul divano leggendo su riviste underground racconti border line che non riuscivano a vedere la luce della rilegatura. «Questo tizio è troppo bravo, non può continuare a uscire su questi giornalini amatoriali» pensava John. Finché una sera, 50 anni fa, la decisione: lasciare tutto e fondare la Black Sparrow Edition, solo per pubblicarlo. A consentirgli di realizzare il sogno, il ricavato del business messo in piedi a Los Angeles nel settore degli uffici e una maxi raccolta di prime edizioni di D.H. Lawrence, vendute alla UC Santa Barbara per 50mila dollari (era un appassionato collezionista di libri originali fin da quando aveva 20 anni). Prima di tutto però, toccava contattare il postino poeta.

«Non l'ho mai visto ubriaco» è il titolo choc di un’intervista di Jonathan Smith, l'unica mai tradotta in italiano, pubblicata online da Vice nel 2014. Per forza: i due si sono incontrati di persona una manciata di volte in tutta la loro carriera, sentendosi principalmente al telefono o scrivendosi. E in quelle occasioni, in cui bisognava parlare d'affari, Bukowski si faceva trovare evidentemente meno sbronzo del solito. L'amico ideale per il misantropo Charles, secondo cui il miglior dono che potesse fargli un fan era quello della sua assenza. Niente di più semplice, per cominciare, che prendere un po' di scritti sparsi e riordinarli in un diario. «Mi mandava il manoscritto man mano che lo scriveva, e dopo aver letto ogni capitolo dovevo sedermi, ricompormi e sperare che non fosse tutto vero - racconta in quell’intervista -. Credevo in lui quanto credevo in me stesso: una fede quasi religiosa, una cosa a cui non si può smettere di credere». Nacque così Taccuino di un vecchio porco (o sporcaccione, secondo le traduzioni), il primo vero libro di Bukowski. Fu preceduto da un piccolo opuscolo nel 66, True Story, pubblicato in appena 30 copie: una sorta di prova generale per amici e parenti. Convinto che avrebbe attirato più dei racconti, Martin si fece scrivere anche un romanzo da tenere di scorta: Post Office, in realtà un "concept" di disperate istantanee biografiche sul mortificante mestiere appena abbandonato. Potrà pubblicarlo con comodo due anni dopo: il successo del Taccuino sarà folgorante, almeno per le aspettative da cui erano partiti. Sarà sempre la moglie di Martin a escogitare anche l'originale impaginazione: il formato da 10x24 cm, più grande delle misure standard e adatto allo scaffale, divenne una nota distintiva della casa. Anche questo contribuì alla vittoria, immediata, della scommessa: quasi da subito il personaggio di Henry "Hank" Chinaski, detto "Gambe d'elefante", divenne il fenomeno letterario e culturale di livello mondiale, che ancora conosciamo. E il compenso passerà a 10mila dollari ogni due settimane.

( Web)

[league-of-sam]

Catching A Ghost | Simon 'GHOST' Riley

Ghost x Reader

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Simon 'GHOST' Riley x AFAB!Reader!OC18+ MINORS DNI!t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

Catching A Ghost: Masterlist

"Soap! What the fuck happened?"

"I-I don't know, L.T. S-she just...the lift, it fell-"

"Just what?! Johnny what the fuck happen-"

The mumbled sounds of your team yelling in your ear was all you could hear over the ringing.

Locking eyes with the man, you gasped, scrambling wobbly to your feet and snatching the controls from his hands. You brought the box up, smacking his face with it before making a run for it down the corridor.

"Shit shit shit- oh fuck- shit! Oh my god." you spoke, laboured breaths in between each word as you ran, dodging the bullets coming at you from behind.

"(Y/N)? Reaper is that you? Reaper how copy?" 

"6-2 do you copy? Fuck!"

"Lieutenant Price sit-rep right now!"

Several voices called for you in response to your panicked words.

They could hear every gasp and curse you threw out as you fled through the hallways, before finding a small office.

Shoving a chair in front of the handle, you dropped to the floor, hiding under a table.

"Jesus H. Christ! Oh god I'm gonna die I'm gonna die..." you ranted, pulling the controls open, "Reaper to All Stations I got the controls, b-but I lost my weapons I'm completely blind."

"Fuckin' hell Boo what the fuck-"

"Simon please, shut the fuck up-" you spewed out, instantly feeling bad, "I'm sorry oh God they're so close...Fuck! Someone better tell me what to do right now!"

"Reaper you read me? It's Laswell."

"Loud and clear ma."

"Where the hell are ya?" Soap said.

"Hiding in an office...Laswell please I'm ready let's shut this fucker down."

The panic in your voice made all of them incredibly uneasy.

Ghost was freaking out, his heart feeling like it had been shattered from the way you shot him down.

Soap wanted to throw himself off the building for letting you slip out of his fingers. He'd ordered Gaz to stay with Price, and he was currently solo, fighting his way to you.

Price was ready to murder everyone the minute he caught on that you were alone out there.

"First I need you to calm down so you can concentrate, okay? Can you do that for me?"

You took a few deep breaths, whimpering as a soldier jiggled the handle to the door before moving on.

"Okay...shit, the target is D.C."

"Okay. Now give me the coordinates."

"Uh, thirty-eight, negative seventy-seven."

"That's the Pentagon."

"He's going for Shepherd?"

"No, Shepherd's gone-"

"Yeah well there are 30,000 people who aren't, finish it!"

Hearing your brother's voice brought a comfort to you, lifting the terrified haze just enough for you to focus.

"First, you need to enable diagnostic mode...hit CLEAR and MODE at the same time."

Your fingers moved to the buttons, and you whispered a countdown under your breath, "Okay, done."

"Next is the override. You should see four columns of data- I need to know what's in row two, column three."

The tips of your fingers shakily grazed the screen as you reeled off the code to Laswell, your tone hushed as you heard the soldiers fall back.

"Good girl, now hit LEFT and CLEAR to initiate override."

"Done."

"Get safe honey, this next part will make some noise."

Looking around the room, you noticed a small hole behind a cabinet, just small enough for you to crawl through.

Squeezing in, it brought you into a workshop.

You crawled along the floor, managing to slide behind a small sofa.

Suddenly, a light flashed onto your face, giving you the same message that Ghost had when you landed.

"G-ghost?" 

He smiled a little, able to see your eyes relax slightly from his position, "I won't let 'em near ya, finish it."

You nodded in his vague direction, flipping the controls open once again.

"I'm ready, Kate."

"This is the last step...hit LINK when the green light is in the fourth position."

You did so, and the box began bleeping, "Oh shit-"

Slamming it shut, you ducked down, hand over your mouth so your breathing wouldn't give you away through your mask.

"We did it...thank you, lieutenant. Where's Hassan?"

"Fucking surrounded by his AQ zombies...I'm gonna kill every one of them, and then I'm gonna go for him. Out here."

"I'm on my way to ya, Reaper, stand by." Soap spoke.

"Negative. I'll see you on the other side, Ghost Team."

With that, you stood, sneaking through the shadows to get eyes on the soldiers around you.

"Nicely done, Reaper. Now for the hard part."

"That was the fuckin' hard part, Ghost. God, I need a weapon."

"Then make one."

You rolled your eyes, "Ah yeah sorry my bad! Lemme just take five fuckin' minutes to build a semi-auto while AQ hunt me down!"

"That mouth o' yours is really gonna get ya in trouble one of these days."

You snickered, opting not to answer as you snuck through the halls and rooms, picking up any material that could be useful to stop you, well...dying.

That involved you throwing metal into microwaves to cause explosions, looting through toolboxes, and fiddling broken shards of glass into a shiv. Surprisingly, it worked extremely well, and you managed to take down four of the soldiers, stealing their weapons and ammo.

"Would you believe me if I told you I was still absolutely shitting myself?" you said, head peeking around the next corner.

Ghost didn't answer, completely enamoured by your beauty, grace, and skill. You were a killer, through and though.

A killer with the warmest heart he'd ever known.

A killer, who warmed his own ice cold heart, yet proves over and over how little he is needed.

You didn't need him.

You were just fine on your own.

Every step you made, you could hear Hassan taunting you, over and over again.

"You are spineless!"

"You will not win this."

"It is inevitable. I am inevitable."

"Three times you almost got me, three times you failed. This blood is on your hands."

With your makeshift bombs and traps, you managed to stun the final soldier, running at him with your glass shiv. You knocked him down, his blood spurting over you as you brought the blade under his helmet and into his neck.

"Atta girl, now you need to-"

Ghost was cut off, as Hassan emerged from a side door, shooting several rounds of bullets at you. 

They littered your vest, knocking the wind from you.

As you fell to the floor, your head collided with the marble tiles, and once again, your vision was blurry, and your eyes fell shut.

The last thing you saw, was Hassan stalking to you, grabbing your ankle.

Your eyes fluttered open, a searing pain in the side of your head.

Reaching up, you winced as your fingers touched your forehead. Pulling them away, you saw the crimson liquid drip.

You were being dragged along the floor and into another room, too dazed to try and defend yourself.

"I told you that your nation would see fire...you think you can stop me?" Hassan spoke, tossing you harshly to the side.

You whimpered as your body collided with the ground.

"G-ghost..." you strained.

"(Y/N)!" he replied, tone matching yours.

You rolled onto your side, trying to get off the ground.

Turning, you saw Hassan, ranting away as he blew out the window opposite you.

"W-watch the w...window."

You let out a cry once again as Hassan approached you, gripping onto your vest and hauling you off the floor.

"We are not attacking, we are invading." he said, a sickly smirk playing on his lips.

One of Hassan's hands moved up, ripping the mask from your face.

"Ah, there she is," he smiled, "the real face of the Reaper...my men were wondering when we'd finally see it. Hmm, so pretty."

You flinched away as his hands rubbed against your cheek, tracing your lips and jawline.

"Pity you're going to die...(Y/N) Price. Such a pretty, pretty waste." your eyes widened, and he laughed, "What? Didn't think I'd be able to figure you out? Had my men search for you since the day you captured me."

"Don't listen to him, Reaper, he's tryna get in your 'ead." Ghost spoke.

"Y-you'll die for t-this, Hassan."

His hand moved, gripping your neck tightly, and you gasped as you felt your feet lift, tiptoes barely grazing the ground.

He was squeezing, hard. And enjoying watching you struggle.

"You know, I almost can't believe I get to be the one to kill the famous Reaper."

"F-fuck you." you spat.

He smirked, letting out a chuckle, "Such fire, such soul! I can see why your team like you. Shame they'll have to stand idly by as they listen to you die."

Everyone on the team was listening.

Soap was running faster than he ever had, knowing he was your only chance.

Price had tried to stand, fighting off the marines and medics holding him down, desperate to try and help you. Gaz had to physically restrain him, holding back his own tears.

Laswell had broken every traffic law in existence to get to your position, hand over her mouth as she saw you slip over the edge, commanding the marines around her to do something, anything to stop you from dying.

On the other side of the street, Ghost was trying his hardest to save you, but the way Hassan held you up...it blocked every angle.

Every time his head moved, so did yours.

And you were edging closer and closer to the open window.

"I can't- Fuck! I can't get a clear shot."

A tear slipped from your eye, "T-then go through m-me..."

By now, you could feel your feet slipping as you tried to find grip on the ledge. Hassan was practically dangling you over the streets below.

He was going to drop you.

"L.T. don't! I'm almost to her!" Soap called out.

"Wha...n-no! 'm not fuckin' shootin' ya."

"It's the o-only way!"

"Negative. Not doin' that."

"It's you and me, yeah?" you said. "It's okay, Simon, it's okay."

Ghost felt his lip quiver under his mask.

The way you were echoing his words back to him as you begged him to kill you ripped through him harder than any bullet would.

"Echo 6-2 to all stations..." you gasped out as Hassan's hand tightened, "I fuckin' love you guys. S-see you on t-the other s...side."

You were so willing to give your life to the cause, and he fucking hated it.

"Soap!"

Your gleeful exclaim brought Ghost back.

"Now, L.T.!" Soap called.

Soap had burst through the door, making Hassan turn his head. 

Bang.

Ghost wasted no time pulling the trigger.

But what none of you saw coming was the way in which Hassan's now-lifeless body would release you.

Fear flashed on your features as your feet scrambled to keep you upright, hands reaching out to try and grab onto something.

Anything.

Soap dived forward, yelling, and this time, you didn't slip away. His fingers closed around yours, and he yanked you toward him, the momentum knocking both of you to the ground.

His arms strapped tightly around you, both of you panting.

"You okay, pet?" Soap said, releasing you.

Rolling onto your back, you turned, looking at Hassan's dead body before turning back to Soap.

You nodded, wide eyed, and reached up for your radio, "6-2 to all stations, enemy KIA." 

"Perfect shot, L.T." Soap said, panting as he leaned back on his knees.

"You called it, sergeant." 

Soap stood, walking over to the corner of the room, and picked up your mask. With one hand, he pulled you off the floor, offering you a small smile before placing it back onto your face.

Your entire body was shaking, adrenaline running through your veins.

"We did it, (Y/N), it's over."

You let out a choked laugh, trying your hardest to hold back the tears that wanted to fall.

With one hand on your shoulder, he led you out of the room, and back to the team. As soon as the doors opened, you ran into Price's arms, holding onto him for dear life.

"The next time I hear you try and give up your life, I'm gonna kill ya myself." he joked.

"I second that." Laswell said, joining the hug.

One after another, the team piled on, until you were in the middle of a very large, very tight group hug...with your family.

It was over.