#(which is ironic to say as this is the same guy that says ‘/srs’ and ‘/j’ irl JSJSJS)

[fagnew]

Spencer…. Spencer watch where you’re treading there…

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

new fight lines have trey asking sebek to "tell him more about his family", adding more ridiculous crumbs to "sebek's father is distantly related to trey's". makes me feel sure that sebek's home event will have trey as a guest even if just for the further comedic potential.

speaking of sebek's family too: i only recently realized the full implication of a fae marrying a human and having chilldren with them. it's obvious that they are to expect their lover to go first, but somehow it didn't cross my mind that mrs. zigvolt is also going to see her children die first too. as far as we know, sebek's aging just as a regular human; unless there is some lore revelation, his mother seems likely to outlive him (just as lilia's likely to outlive silver now). it's interesting to think about imo, because there is an active choice here to have a family which you know you are doomed to bury yourself instead of searching for someone within your fae species to avoid this. feels like it's saying something about love and grief which a hometown event could (hopefully) explore.

MysteryShopTLs has a post with all new voiced Trouble lines translated! Please check it out. I wanted to give them a shoutout + promo because I’ve unfortunately been seeing tons of people reposting these on Twitter, and even someone using their template, without credit… which they have explicitly said to NOT do 💦 Remember to credit fan translators, guys (preferably in the same post as the tls and not the 2nd/3rd post in a thread, otherwise people won’t actually see the credit).

Trey “I’m so normal about teeth I’m about to beat up and interrogate an underclassman to learn more about his dentist father” Clover 💀 djksbekeheehwi The “Trey is Sebek’s cousin/distantly related relative” thing is dbjsbwjxndlss such a funny crack theory to me 😭 At this point, I wonder if the devs are aware of it and try to throw that crowd (really subtle) bones…

It’d be cool to see Trey in a Sebek’s hometown event! (Preferably as SR and not yet another event R for the poor guy 💦) Trey’d be so hype meeting THE Mr. Zigvolt. I actually wrote a short thing about them meeting here; hopefully if this happens in canon, it’s just as silly.

I’d also really like to see Idia in Sebek’s hometown event. It would just be ironic, because both of them also show up in Harveston… with Idia complaining in front of Sebek that he’d NEVER want to visit a place like BV, which is lacking in wi-fi! Oh, how the tables would turn…

We have no official confirmation as to whether or not a human-fae mixed child would have an extended lifespan or not. I know many fan works like to depict Sebek outliving Silver or the other first years for the ✨ Angst ✨ of it all, but canon hasn’t stated anything of the sort! Personally, I believe that Sebek at least ages like a regular human, since he seems to match the rate at which Silver grows (in their childhood flashbacks). Fae are shown to have much more delayed developments, such as learning to walk at 30 years old rather than the typical 10-18 months that a human would take.

Mrs. Zigvolt really is so strong 😭 Her entire community seems to have been against the marriage but she did it anyway. Baur, too, disapproved and dissuaded her from pursuing this so much. Mrs. Zigvolt actively has to take every opportunity possible to normalize the family she chose for herself to her own father. Even knowing that she might have to bury her own husband and three children someday, she still fights for the life she has, because there’s no other life she wants. I wonder… Was part of the reason why Baur didn’t want his daughter to marry a human (you know, racism aside) because he didn’t want to see her suffer from that grief? Especially considering that Baur himself probably saw many of hid own allies fall in battle 😭 so maybe he wanted to spare his one and only child of that despair… But Mrs. Zigvolt thinks differently than him, she probably believes love is always worth having, even if the community scorns hers, and even if time threatens to steal her family away. We love a woman that knows what she wants 👊

While I’d love for a hometown event to explore this in more detail, I really doubt that they will dedicate tons of time to it 🙂‍↕️ It would be great to have Sebek coming to appreciate his dad more, or realizing the full depth of his mom’s love… Unfortunately, Twst hometowns don’t usually have these extensive narratives, they only lightly touch upon the SSR’s character development in a few scenes.

[playstation-dreamcast]

hiii!! if u take requests, can i ask for hcs about re characters going to a theme park? I've just had that idea in mind for a while and I'd love to read it :)

Okay I'm going to be super honest with you- at some point this started to really start to dance into crack territory, but it was Genuinely fun! So!

Featuring: Albert Wesker, Chris Redfield, Leon Kennedy, and Piers Nivans

Albert Wesker~

He drove the van here

He’s going to act like he’s just soooo above it all. Like this silly little outing is nothing more than a waste of time and “Don’t we have better things to do?” At the same time, he’s going to be genuinely offended if you suggest leaving without getting a funnel cake

He gets a big kick out of going onto the rides that take your pictures at the end and looking the camera dead in the lens- straight stoned face. He never buys them though- You want him to spend 30 dollars on what essentially amounts to fancy paper with a bunch of strangers on it? Genuinely, with nothing but malice in his heart, you can eat his ass. He just takes a picture of it with his phone and moves on

He is NOT a fan of the mascots. At all. You’d think a guy who's been through The Horrors™ as many times as Wesker has wouldn’t think twice about a guy in a rat costume. You’d be wrong. Something about their dead eyes, permanent smiles, and the fact that sometimes you can see the human eyes peeking out of their mouths just Does Not Sit Right With Him. He’s not scared, no, that would be childish. But he is on guard

At some point- you’re going to have to find a semi dark place while he waits for the migraine meds to kick in. The sounds of screaming children, the bright sun, the heat- sensory nightmare. Let him sit with his earbuds in for a second, he’ll be ready to go again in thirty minutes

He is almost shockingly good at skeeball. He insists to you that he’s never played before- this is in fact his first time at an amusement park after all. You don’t believe him, but you’ll take the giant plushie he won you as a prize anyway

He’s actually a big fan of the Ferris Wheel. It’s one of the last things you guys do, so it’s later at night when you do it. He’s genuinely captivated by the rainbow lights of the fair and the crisp summer air. He even puts his arm around you, which is like third base for him! (/j but also kinda /srs)

Any sort of water ride and he’s out. Sorry, walking around in soaked socks and shoes when you don’t have to genuinely sounds like a nightmare.

At first, he’s reluctant to stay for the firework show. Are you not tired? Have we not done enough? Where do you get this energy from- peepaw needs a nap. But, then they start up and he gets it. The pretty lights, the energy of the crowd. Okay, he sees the appeal

You’re going to have to put up with him blasting Bowie on the way home btw. You’re both tired, but his need for control won’t let him allow anyone else to take the wheel. But, this does come with the rare sight of seeing Wesker actually loosen up a bit and sing along with a song- so really you’re the winner here

Chris Redfield~

Chris brings a very Dad energy to the table. He’s the guy that’s reminding you to put on sunscreen, and take breaks, and drink water- generally just trying to keep you alive. Ironically, he keeps forgetting to do these things himself

Chris is mostly here for the food I'm ngl to you. Where else is he going to get deep fried turkey leg wrapped in a soft pretzel drenched in nacho cheese? No where, it’s not ethical to combine that many flavors anywhere else- let him have this

He’s not actually a huge fan of rollercoasters. He’s happy to hold your bag and wait while you ride them, but he gets enough excitement from his job on a day to day basis. The pacemaker can’t handle much more stress than he already puts in under. (Ignore the previously mentioned turkey leg monstrosity when he says this)

He is a big fan of dark rides though. He likes the story that they tend to tell and that they tend to be. Key word tend. Chris isn’t a coward, he’ll get on the Tower of Terror (may she rest in peace) it just isn’t his favorite thing in the world

So, I feel like we all have that one friend who has The Curse™. You know the one, the one that makes it to where wherever you go to any sort of amusement park, carnival, or outdoor outing it rains? Like, it could be clear blue skies across the board on the forecast, but a downspout has manifested out of nowhere? Yeah, that’s Chris. He’s developed an appreciation for the stage shows because of this, and it’s where his fondness for dark rides was born from. And you thought he was crazy for bringing a raincoat

You know the couples shirts that are horrendously heteronormative? His Minnie, her Mickey; His Beauty, Her Beast, ect ect. You know the ones? He forces you guys to wear those shirts. Only, He’s the one wearing the “Girl shirt” (please hear my eyeroll when I say that) And you wear the “Boy Shirt” (Eye roll, can you hear it? Can you hear me rolling my eyes so aggressively I saw the back of my skull?) Purely because he finds it funny and does not know shame.

Okay, so High Striker: It’s the strong man carnival game. You know the one, hit a target with a mallet, and a ball goes up to ring a bell. You know that one? Okay cool- So that game is rigged by having a mechanism the game master can control to change what amount of pressure is needed to make the ball go up. They can make the game impossible to win, or so easy a child could do it. This is all set up to say that Chris barely got the ball halfway up the bar and you straight up rang the bell. You would think this would hurt his pride- but quite the contrary! He spends the rest of the day bragging about you to anyone who will listen instead

I think Chris carries you around the park when you get tired. That’s it, that’s the point. Doesn’t matter what size you are, he didn’t spend that much time in the gym not to be able to pick up and carry his partner when they’re tired

Chris is actually a really big fan of the firework show. I have a headcanon that Chris is a little bit of a firebug (This is due to my own liberal use of incendiary grenades) so if you’re down to stay and watch the pretty fire fill up the sky- he’s more than happy to join you. That being said, he’s also not going to protest if ya just wanna go home

The ride back is a calm, windows down with classic rock playing kinda ride. He’s already starting to turn red on his nose and cheeks, but that's a problem for tomorrow Chris

Leon Kennedy~

Generally speaking, Leon isn’t really an amusement park type of guy. They’re really overwhelming. But, he’s also just happy to be anywhere you are, and he doesn't dislike them. So here we are!

That being said, he definitely takes pictures with all the mascots cause he thinks it’s funny. Like when the goth kids go and see Santa at Christmas. It’s also definitely to heal his inner child, but you won't catch him admitting to that

If you guys do go to the Rat Park, he spends the entire time being a little bit put off by the mouse’s cult. Grown ass adults competing with literal children will never not be pathetic to him, and he will in fact voice it. What are they gonna do? Pick on someone their own size? doubtful.

He likes a decent mix of rides, but he refuses to go on any roller coasters that have a loop. Yes, he understands they are perfectly safe. Yes, he knows how they work with centripetal force. He’s aware of all of these facts. But you’re straight up not going to logic him out of this one babes

Leon, much like Chris, will eat just about anything put in front of him- he is not picky. He has a side quest to find the weirdest food that the park offers and try it. So far it’s been the turkey leg monstrosity. He did not finish it.

As far as games go he sees them as a bunch of giant, rigged scams that are akin to gambling- without the randomized aspect. Ya just gotta home the game master likes you. That’s why he sticks to the tried and true and never ever rigged claw machine. And he’s shockingly good at it too, he’s serious about getting that off brand Scooby Doo in a fireman costume plushie

I think he would genuinely kill over from dehydration if you weren’t there constantly reminding him to hydrate. I’m sorry, Leon gives me the vibes of a guy who straight up doesn’t drink enough water, ya gotta force it (in a loving way ofc)

I think he’s another victim of the “this is overwhelming and I have a headache” curse. Expect to find yourself at one of the indoor stage shows while he slumped down, sunglasses on and earbuds in, waiting for the ibuprofen to kick in. Would water help this condition? Yes. Will that convince him to drink it more regularly? Probably not

Leon is not down for the fireworks. Like, if you really insist, watching from the car is an option. But he really doesn't want to stick around for the loud booming noises followed by the crowd crush of people leaving. Sorry Dear

He does seem more lively on the way home than he did on the way there, and with a little bit of prodding, you may even be able to get him to admit he had fun!

Piers Nivans~

Piers planned the trip. His family used to take a trip to the Rat Park every year, to say he has this down to a science is an understatement. It’s an art and he is a master. Just tell him what rides you wanna ride, where/what you wanna eat, and if you wanna hit up any of the shops and then leave it to him. 

He’s efficient and keeps a tight schedule, knowing when to get on what rides to avoid long lines and when to do other things. That being said, he’s not inflexible. If plans change or something comes up, he’s generally pretty good at restructuring and planning on the fly. Even though he’s really rather not

Piers is an adrenaline junkie. Unlike Chris, he craves the thrill without the imminent threat of death looming over him. As such, he wants to ride every roller coaster at the park. The more Gs, the better. It gets him out of his head.

He’s also not a fan of the mascots, but in the same way Wesker isn’t. Apparently one time when he caught Cinderella smoking on her break once before they really cracked down on that and the magic was just ruined. Now he just sees some underpaid and overworked employee cooking themselves alive in those costumes and just feels sad

He’s like, lowkey a snob about the food im ngl. Like, all the really popular things everyone wants are great, and if you really want it sure, but there's like, a hundred other places with better food and shorter lines, you gotta trust him on this. And the worst part is: He’s right, the public hypes up the most mediocre things while ignoring the extraordinary

He’s also a big advocate for checking out the stage shows. You don't have to stay for the whole thing, but they’re in air conditioned buildings where you can sit and recuperate, and they actually tend to be pretty good! Well, decent, but it’s a good way to take a break

As far as the games go- he sucks at them and doesn't even try to hide it man. ON a battlefield he’s sharp, with surgeon steady hands and laser focus. You want him to throw a bean bag into a clown's mouth? Completely incapable. You’re not sure if he’s actually just that bad, or if he’s playing it up cause he thinks it’s funny. 

Self appointed Keeper Of The Things. Cards, hotel keys (If ya traveled), IDs, anything deemed important he’s the one keeping track of them. It’s not that he doesn't trust you- it’s more of a “If something goes wrong I only have myself to blame and I’d rather be mad at myself than at you.” Does that make sense? Does anyone else do that? Just me? Okay, well now Piers does too

Piers is neutral to the firework display. Seen one light show, you’ve seen 'em all. But, if you really want to watch them, who is he to tell you know? They are really pretty

If he’s not in the driver's seat, he’s passing out immediately on the car ride back. In his defense, he’s been up since like 4 am planning and getting everything ready, it's almost a miracle he didn’t pass out on one of the dark rides

[only-a-heartbeat-away]

MERRY CHRISTMAS (Or for me Happy Sol Invictus!)!!

Hope you are having an amazingly good Holiday!

I am glad to have brought you over to the side of Sin and Krokus. They are amazing bands and so unloved. I went the same way as you where Glam was my first love outside of music that I listened to because my parents did. Oddly, my dad skipped from classic heavy metal and rock to Metallica to Grunge and sort of pulled me along. He skipped over Glam but that was my beloved since I was a kid.

It's cool that you wrote a paper on Jeremy. I did a similar thing in one of my college courses on Xenophobia in Europe and wrote about the song Sunday Bloody Sunday by U2. It makes me wonder how many of the others around here wrote essays in high school or college about a song because of their love of music.

I was lucky to have a family that loved music, not all the same music but still understood the appreciation. Funny enough it was my dad's mom that bought my dad and I the tickets to see Black Sabbath and W.A.S.P. in '87 and came along. The Stadium tour tickets are hilarious because of that. I got mine early on too and it has some funny notes in my scrapbook where I keep all my concert tickets. I would love to see AC/DC again but the tickets here are so expensive.

The whole SRS I was worried you would figure out who I was early because I have such niche fixations. I totally kicked myself when right after talking to you about Sin posted the picture of the Sin tattoo I just got. I would definitely love to keep talking and sharing music.

Have an awesome Holiday!

Aarne.

P.S. If you are wondering where Jake came from he is a vampire character I roleplay in White Wolf V:tM that is an 80s horror prop and movie set maker in Hollywood, who is modeled on Crimson Idol/Still Not Black Enough era Blackie Lawless, that runs with werewolves instead of other vampires.

Hi Aarne! My Christmas is really good so far, I got some great presents (and gave some too) and I’m going to the movie theater for the first time in almost four years later today. I hope your holiday is good too!

I’m glad you introduced me to Krokus and Sin too, they’re so good and seem very underrated. Glam metal (at least the mainstream bands) were long over by the time I was born, but I discovered it on my own as a preteen and it’s been a huge part of my life ever since.

The assignment was to find a song based on a true story and analyze how it compares to the actual event, and I thought about doing it on Run To The Hills by Iron Maiden at first, but then I found out like five other classmates chose that so I gave up on that. And for some reason, Jeremy was my second choice.

My family loves music too, though everyone has wildly different tastes. There are artists and genres we all like or at least don’t mind that we get to bond over though, which is nice. It is funny, when I was waiting in line at the Stadium Tour I overheard a guy saying “It says I bought these in December of 2019, and now it’s August 2022” and he and his wife were laughing about it. That wasn’t the first (or only) conversation like that I heard that day.

Honestly I knew it was you on like the second day lol. It was still fun, though! Thank you for all the great music recs, and feel free to send me asks any time! (I don’t like talking in dms, ftr. It’s nothing personal against you or anyone else, I just don’t like it)

That sounds really cool! I model most of my ocs after 80s rockstars too lol

[brw]

I'm gonna sort this by team books and solo books and I'm going to leave out Spiderman and Cosmic stuff because I don't read either of those and I have zero ideas for them but they'll probably still exist because I have to be nice. OKAY sorry Jed this is going to be So Much.

TEAM BOOKS

Avengers (abjectiveless) → main Avengers title. Lineup: Monica Rambeau (leader), Janet van Dyne (deputy leader), Hercules, Captain America (Sam Wilson), Wanda Maximoff, Mantis and Iron Man I guess. Very standard Avengers stories, the main team you'd show for event stories. Blue Marvel, Beast and Sue Storm are common supporting cast members in this series.

Avengers A.I. Vol 2 → The Vision (leader), Victor Mancha, Machine Man, Danger, Machinesmith, Jocasta, a sentient Sentinel and Deathlok. Hank Pym, Nadia and Raz Malholtra are all common supporting characters. Basically about the robot side of the Marvel universe, ethical questions re: a.i. and the place of machines in post-post modernist society or whatever.

Avengers Espionage → Hawkeye (leader), Natasha Romanoff (deputy leader), Shang-Chi, Moondragon, John Walker, Captain America (Steve Rogers), a Nick Fury Sr. LMD and Jimmy Woo as a common strategist/supporting cast member. Basically Secret Avengers by a different name, the X-Force to the Avengers' X-Men. Handle secret spy stuff, I imagine a James Bond vibe.

Avengers International → Black Panther (leader), Captain British (Brian Braddock, deputy leader), Luna Snow, Jericho Drumm, Nightcrawler, Quicksilver, Monet St Croix, with a number of original and preexisting non American superheroes as a supporting cast. Silver Sable in particular shows up a lot and wants to partially finance the team, which T'Challa is against. As it says, the International wing of the Avengers, traversing the world to deal with threats across the globe.

X-Men (abjectiveless) → Dani Moonstar, (leader), Scott Summers (deputy leader), Magik, Psylocke (Kwannon), Colossus, Collective Man, Forge and Frenzy. Main X-Men team, I imagine Dani as really the star of this series and everything kind of happens around her. I want Colossus and Collective Man to have a great time together, and I think Forge is attracted to Kwannon but she isn't big on him.

Dark X-Men → Archangel (leader), Madelyne Pryor (honorary deputy leader), Nekra, Banshee, Third Eye, Bishop, maybe Magneto if I'm feeling charitable. Darker underbelly of the X-Men, dealing with the consequences of some of the X-Men's actions and what those storylines were politically saying over the years, i.e. they'll get their asses beat by Terra Verdae or be sent to a reality where Genosha survived and it's a hellscape.

Exceptional X-Men → the same comic, it's perfect I don't want it changed.

X-Factor → Rictor (leader), Synch (deputy leader), Shatterstar, Rahne Sinclair, Strong Guy, Darwin, Sunspot, Elsa Bloodstone. Dares to ask the question, what if Peter David's X Factor Investigations had been good? Multiple Man also joins this series in the last half after Layla divorced him.

Fantastic Four → I also don't want this changed I love it.

Fantastic Four Presents → An anthology title split into four in the tradition of Marvel Comics Presents where each member of the Fantastic Four and potentially their supporting cast like Alicia, Wyatt, etc get multi part stories. Basically an opportunity to do things outside of the team.

Alpha Flight → Heather Hudson (leader), Sasquatch (deputy leader), Puck, Snowguard, Purple Girl, Talisman and Marrina. Shaman is a supporting character, but he's recently gone to full time medicine. Bruce Banner might also be a part of the supporting cast, if I decide he's in a relationship with Sasquatch. They fight primarily the evil other Alpha Flight team lead by Mac, whose members include Major Mapleleaf (the old one), Wild Child, Wolverine, Sentry, Snowbird and one of the Beaubier twins.

SOLO TITLES

Scarlet Witch → Not much to say, Wanda does magic stuff and it's a fun time :) Vision, Jericho and Pietro are all strong supporting cast members. I imagine it more similarly narratively laid out like the Robinson series, but whatever.

Ant-Man → starring Hank Pym getting into campy weird antics, broken up by him dealing with his schizoaffective disorder. Bill Foster, Janet van Dyne, Bruce Banner, Nadia, Raz Malholtra, etc are all common supporting members in this series.

Avengers Two → Maxi series of Wonder Man and Beast getting into nonsense together. They won't fall in love I promise. I can be trusted.

She-Hulk → In my heart this is a legal drama first and a super hero comic second. Jennifer does interstellar with her law business, and starts representing people like Ego and Galactus in court. Sort of comedic, but can get serious when it calls for it.

A Carol Danvers containment ongoing

Storm → stays the same because this series is peak

Iron Fist → Lin Lie doing Iron Fist stuff, I've never read an Iron Fist comic so I don't actually know what Iron Fist stuff is but whatever it is he should be doing it

Jessica Jones → Sort of an edgier, more gritty version of She-Hulk, Luke can be a stay at home dad while Jessica explores the harsh reality of superpowers and crime.

I'm also giving one of those cowboys a solo project because I think we need more cowboys.

does everyone wanna go in a circle and say what their ideal marvel lineup would be. like what books would exist

[noahtally-famous]

rewatching ridonculous race and I just came up with the wildest 'crack' thought that would prob be single-handedly genius or The Worst Thing Ever.

as usual I’m making it everyone’s problem lmao

a Dave & Keith duo team participating in the race. And their team name is ‘liked the same girl’ or smth like that idk

some extra details:

Sky definitely forced them into it as a ‘Bonding Experience’ bc of the complaining and arguing (and plus she was tired af of how annoying they are). I like to think after PI, Dave approached her and genuinely actually apologized for his actions, like he finally realized how unhinged he turned into and regretted it, and she apologized too for leading him on and not handling the situation better, and they respected the ultimate decision to not date but remained a weird combo of acquaintance-friends. there was a lot of apologizing, crying (bc of course there is), words said, and it took a while but they overcame that massive hurdle.

naturally, Keith isn’t so quick to trust the guy though, and Dave still has bad memories abt him so the tension between them still remains thick.

them arguing legit the entire time they’re on, and live to make each others lives more annoying while facepalming at the others stupidity. (they're a hit among the viewers btw, bc of course they are)

“says the girlfriend-kisser!” “for the last time, I didn’t know you two were dating or else I wouldn’t have kissed her!” “pfft. yeah that’s what you’d like to think.” “uh, yeah, I do think that. because her lips have touched yours and who knows how disgusting your lips are and where they’ve been.” “excuse me, you take that back right now!” “I don’t hear you denying it, bad kisser.” “is that the best you’ve got, Mr. Not Getting Any?” "that's not what the girl you thought liked you was thinking when she kissed me--oh, too soon?" "I will fucking murder you."

everyone else, hearing this go down: what the fuck

homoerotic tension but no one rlly knows whether that tension is due to them actually having underlying emotions other than ‘deep dislike’ or whether that’s just an add-on to their rivalry and they’re just dumb enough to say stuff with double meanings

similar to the point above, no one rlly knows whether to consider them ‘dating but doesn’t know it yet’ or simply enemies

Dwayne Sr. and Dwayne Jr. watching Pahkitew Island on the plane rides and bombarding Dave with questions abt his time there, and making fun of certain parts of the show. Keith is happy to indulge if it means making fun of Dave’s worst moments (“which are like all of them!” “at least I had guts to audition for that damn show.” “are you calling me a coward?” “congratulations. you’ve connected the dots.”)

idk whether they’d end up having a rivalry with another team or if they’re so invested in each other that no one else wants to get between that lmao

it’s funny bc they waste no time rubbing each other the wrong way, but for the sake of winning challenges they’d set aside their rivalry temporarily and work together (and ironically, they make a pretty good team). idk how they’d react if another team made fun of either of them—probably not the most positive; I feel like they’d be the type to laugh at the others misery/frustration at first, but if a certain line is crossed, intervention occurs.

I’ve this silly hc that Noah and Dave are family friends, so interactions between them and the occasional Keith ones are bound to be interesting

I literally don’t know what Keith would look like. When I was younger, I imagined him looking like a sort-of Duncan without the dyed hair (yeah, idk either). But now I’m like ‘would Sky rlly date a guy like that? she’d want to be with someone more sporty and athletic and competitive, probably.’ and now I’m stumped on trying to imagine Keith looks-wise 😭

perhaps he's a combination of the two?? bc I also can't see Sky dating the jockest jock to ever jock lmfao

they have to go through the sewage system in the prison episode, and Dave gets flashbacks from Pahkitew and he's all 'nope, not happening. I'm not touching that disgusting water, do you know how many germs and bacterias are in there?', so Keith's like 'ffs you dramatic shit' and has to carry Dave or piggy-back him until they reach the exit while Dave's alternating between clinging to him like a koala and leaning as far away from him as possible without falling off. (I'm sensing potential bonding over Dave's germaphobia and stuff).

Keith def kept up on the Pahkitew Island season so he knows exactly what Dave is talking abt when he refers to certain episodes.

The Haters/Daters love them, they're all like "those two know what's up. they're exactly like us" and Keith & Dave are like "...no we're not??" and the Haters/Daters are like "you're not dating?!"

Keith doesn't lose his shit easily, he's actually pretty chill and patient--which makes sense given in most sports, you gotta be patient. (Dave's the one who gets all emotional tbvh.) But, naturally, Dave's the only exception when it comes to the whole 'not losing shit easily' deal

"he's your boyfriend. you calm him down." "he's YOUR family friend though?! and for the last time, we're not dating!" -- a Noah and Keith interaction

[megafreeman]

SRR spoilers. A lot of people talk about how Saints Row Reboot doesn't have any proper direction for it story, but I've been think and I think that directionless approach was their direction; the direction was deliberately crafted to be anti-alienating. I talked before how characters and gangs were crafted to appeal to every side of the fanbase, but I just realized why everything is so poorly executed. I think they deliberately choose to make the cast vanilla (as in no conflict and stuff like that) because they were afraid it would alienate one of their fanbases if they pick the character made to appeal to them and said "This person is objectively wrong" (think about how in SRTT, they treat Shaundi as a crazy one for taking the narrative seriously). More under the cut

Hence you get bare minimum "conflict" where they make a joke about a character's idea and then go with it. Just think about the game. None of the jokes ever land because they always go ahead with the idea the guy they were making fun of made. For example, in the prologue Kevin once makes fun of Eli for saying they should "Make Connections" instead of "Finding more people that can shoot a gun". Yet, despite turning his comments into a joke, we never really see any of the other character disapprove of Eli for having a nerdy approach towards gangs in a same sense how Boss would simplify and outright change Pierce's ideas to fit more with their simple outlook of how a gang should work.

Compare this to Pierce being a punching bag in SR2. Punching bag Pierce was usually there to create a lot of character conflict. Either with him and Gat, who have gravely different outlook on how they should do things, or him and Shaundi, who always steals his ideas and is a polar opposite of his character.

Now imagine if Kevin (who is made to appeal to SRTT fans) suggested in SRR that yall should get a dildo and beat people up with dildos for impact and Neenah and Eli then spent next 15 minute of mission just shitting on him for having a godawful idea. Imagine all the temper tantrums people that play SR for dildo bats would have

Same applies for Neenah (Made for SR2 fans). Imagine if she suggested you should do something serious and then Eli and Kevin spent 15 minutes shitting on her for wanting to take narrative seriously "because this is Saints Row and Saints Row is all about goofy fun! xD" Idk about yall, but a scene like that would leave a bad taste in my mouth.

That why I think they avoided any conflict, they didn't want to make any of the characters seem flawed, bad, or as if the narrative wasn't on their side at any moment because they were afraid it'd backfire. Same way how in SRTT, treating Shaundi as a bad guy for caring about Gat's death backfired (ironically, not doing that is what ended up backfiring the most lmao)

Ofc, Nahualli is there to contradict all this. But that's why they delibirately choose to make him a bad guy with 0 pre-release marketing. Because that's not a character they want you to like or be attached to uwu (which ironically, turned out to be the opposite)

[randomvarious]

Today’s compilation and mix:

This Is Strictly Rhythm, Volume 2 1995 House / Garage House

OK, so, for those that don't know, Strictly Rhythm was, at some point, pretty much New York's premier house label. They're still kicking around today, but I honestly have no idea what the current house landscape is like, so I don't know if they're still held in the same high regard that they were when this double-disc compilation/label sampler mix combo came out in '95.

With that said though, this awesome comp/mix actually wasn't released by Strictly Rhythm themselves; SR had their own series called This Is Strictly Rhythm, but so did German label ZYX Music, and this is Vol. 2 in ZYX's own series.

*BUT,* these tracks also aren't just *strictly* Strictly Rhythm tunes; a couple of them come from a Miami label called Groove On, which was an offshoot of George Morel's, a guy who happened to be a higher-up at Strictly Rhythm at some point. So, there's something of a tangential connection there, but officially, not all of these tunes actually come from Strictly Rhythm.

Both discs of this release make for an excellent snapshot of just how good Strictly Rhythm was in '95 though. It's not a retrospective sampler, so you're not getting the best tunes that Strictly Rhythm had released since its 1989 inception, but rather only tunes that came out around '94-'95. So, if you want a good, ephemeral helping of some sweet mid-90s house tunes from one of New York's greatest labels to ever serve it up, this is well worth a listen.

Ironically though, the most remembered track from these discs isn't even really a house track. It's the one that kicks things off, Josh Wink's "Higher State of Consciousness (Tweekin' Acid Funk)," which is a spectacularly wigged-out, acid-chirping, classic mid-90s breakbeat whopper. When Wink released this song on his Higher State of Consciousness 12-inch, I don't think that he intended for it to be the one to blow the doors off (it's the last track on the B-side, for fuck's sake), but that's ultimately what happened. And it happened on a house label, no less; one that he'd never release on again. Go figure!

More dopeness: Jason Nevins, under the moniker of Soundstation, before he topped charts all across Europe with his famous remake of Run-D.M.C.'s "It's Like That" in '97, delivers maybe the best house track on this release. It's got literal frog ribbits in its rhythm, folks! Just wait for the drums to come in and then tell me you don't love this shit! I dare you!

Also, two great offerings from Chicago house legend DJ Pierre are on here as well (check out my long write-up on how he and the rest of his trio, Phuture, pioneered acid house with the genre's first-ever song, "Acid Tracks"); one as Timewarp and the other as Photon Inc. Both tracks employ a hard and heavy kick drum and a high string, but they definitely go in different directions besides having those two elements in common.

And disc 2 of this release just so happens to be an unexpectedly excellent mix by Germany's Hans Nieswandt. I say unexpectedly because it's never an easy task to do a label sampler mix. Your selection pool is so limited since you can only choose from the output of a single label. And Nieswandt was limited even more by only selecting tracks that were released between '94 and '95. But he really pulled it off here anyway. It admittedly takes a little bit of time to warm up to, but once he gets to around the halfway point with Maurice's "Got Me Burning Up" (DJ Pierre's brother), his set really hits its stride. It's an expertly blended and well-varied house trip that includes some of the tracks from disc 1, some different mixes of some of the tracks from disc 1, and a few tracks that aren't on disc 1 at all, like that aforementioned Maurice joint. And as far as label sampler house mixes go, this might be the best one I've ever heard. No joke.

A superb journey back to 1995 to experience some tasty offerings from legendary New York house label, Strictly Rhythm, by way of Germany's ZYX Music. I unfortunately don't have a link to Nieswandt's disc 2 mix, but feel free to PM me. Plus, if you're in the US, you can currently purchase both discs from Discogs for under $10, and that includes shipping. Well worth the price, in my opinion, considering all the gold that's inside 😁 .

Highlights:

CD1:

Wink - "Higher State of Consciousness (Tweekin' Acid Funk)" Manhattan Progression - "Pray (The USA Anthem mix)" Soundstation - "The Deep State of Sound (State of "Dope")" G. Funk - "Misused (The Underground Network mix)" Timewarp - "A Feeling I Know (W.P. II)" 1-900 - "Keep Him on the Phone (Spero's Deeper 'n Deeper dub)" Photon Inc. - "Project Blast (Wild Style mix)"

CD2:

"The Mega-Strictly-Mix" by Hans Nieswandt

[tyronehugh]

Timothy Wepner officiating.

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try to make it up to him by rescuing him when he ends up naked and stranded in Mexico. In New York.. But by the end of 2010, China was trying harder to get along with its neighbors and Clinton's warning seemed to have done well. She made the sign of the cross several papuci de casa din pasla times to bless me on my way, sent a special blessing to Natasha, and almost shed tears when I absolutely refused to come back again that evening, unless anything special had happened at Natasha’s. 11), Steve Maddock (Oct. I told him to come in. What would she look like now? Would he even know her? Arya Underfoot.

[anika-ann]

Hands Too Cold, but Heart of Gold - Pt.2

The Partnership

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Matt Murdock x reader (no SR x MM x r)

Word count: 2250

Summary: Avenger!reader AU, love triangle. Daredevil is so-so warming up to the team... some of its members anyway. Steve is too busy being furious with you. Or is he?

Warnings: pissed off Steve, mentions of violence, swearing, fluff, mild angst…? 

Story Masterlist

────── ·❆· ──────

If anyone was watching, they probably thought they were high and hallucinating. The quinjet basically landed on water, opening precisely for you to just leave the pier and enter the ramp lash entrance without faltering in your steps. You walked in, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen on your tail, the tension in his shoulders obvious.

“Hi, Elsa. Looking as good as ever. DD, good to see you again,” Tony’s voice welcomed you, confirming your suspicion. Everyone was now here, probably. Wonderful.

“Mr. Stark,” Daredevil acknowledged him with a nod.

You, on the other hand, ignored the greeting. If he was starting with Elsa, you were not about to speak to him unless necessary, even when he told you that you looked good – hell, it had been like an hour since he had seen you. Jerk.

“Wow, look at you, kiddo. Good job. Daredevil, we haven’t met yet-“ Clint stood up from his seat, hand extended.

“Meaning you haven’t stalked me and tried to get me to join your team?”

Clint wasn’t surprised or concerned about the distance the masked man kept, withdrawing his hand easily. “Yep. Name’s Clint Barton.”

The Devil just nodded again, not giving up his own name. Shocker.

“Daredevil. Welcome on board. Hey, our new recruitment expert.” Tasha gave you a significant look saying ‘brace yourself’. You picked up on it immediately.

“Hey, Natasha. Is Steve mad?” you asked innocently despite knowing the answer for sure.

“Yes,” sounded from behind you quietly, a brief warning from the Devil, as the man in question appeared, his footsteps heavy and angry.

“You are in so much trouble, missy!”

You made a face. “Steve, do not call me ‘missy’. It’s the on the top of the bad words list, seriously, who the fuck taught you that?” you teased him lightly, the humour leaving you when you found yourself under his strict gaze. Not just strict; worried. Hurt. “I’m not sorry for turning it off. You weren’t exactly helping.”

“I appreciated it,” Daredevil supported you unexpectedly and you eyed him, fighting a smile, unable to resist the warmth of satisfaction in your chest.

“Yeah, well, the job is done. Congratulation. Now turn it on again, or so help me god, I’ll cuff you with powers-restrictors and you’re sitting this mission out,” Steve grumbled, spinning on his heels, returning to the cockpit without another word.

You blinked in surprise at the harshness, heavy guilt settling in your stomach. Surely it wasn’t such a big deal? No, there hadn’t even been a real danger; Steve wouldn’t be so pissed about something like this, not normally. Something was wrong.

You left Daredevil’s side, making your way after Steve.

“Leave him. He’s just a grumpy old man,” Tony hummed, drinking some energy drink through a straw.

You ignored him. This wasn’t grumpiness, this was anxiety. Steve was anxious about something and it wasn’t you turning off your comms.

You entered the cockpit, hearing Clint trying to socialize with the Devil while Natasha interjected with the plan so the Devil would be brought up to speed.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Anderson,” your captain growled, pretending to be perfectly focused on piloting a plane that could just easily run on autopilot. The tendons in his forearms were so tightened he could cut something with them.

You gulped. Anderson. The spy name you were given by S.H.I.E.L.D. after your real persona had to die. No one on team called you that. Ever.

Crap. This is bad.

You sat down next to him despite his protest.

“That’s too bad. Because-“

“I don’t care about apologies.”

You scoffed. “Good, ‘cause you’re not getting one.”

His statue-like posture shifted and his eyes turned to you for a fraction of a second before returning to staring ahead blankly, pretending to see what was in front of them. He didn’t say a word.

You bit your lip, covering his right hand with yours gently. His fingers twitched, but otherwise he didn’t react to your gesture. You ran your thumb over his knuckles.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on? And don’t try that bullshit about being angry because of me cutting you off. You knew it was a good move. Talk to me, Steve,” you whispered, observing his hard expression, wondering what he was hiding behind it. Steve had always been good at perceiving your emotions – and thanks to the way he had opened to you, it went both ways. But now, he was closing off and you hated it. “Please.”

Steve remained silent. It might seem he didn’t even listen to you, but you could tell he was struggling with something. Steve was… a sweetheart. A kick-ass serum-powered stubborn reckless sweetheart. He cared for people. He worried. And he thought the serum had not only made him the most famous American hero, but also transformed him into Atlas – he believed he needed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and protect everyone else. You knew that this was why your crush was pointless – he would always saw you as the newbie, as the little sister who needed protection and couldn’t bear the weight of what he was carrying – like for example right now.

“There’s something out of place,” he said quietly and you supressed the rush of joy into your abdomen at his honesty. And silenced the ‘you mean beside the fact the daughter of the Secretary of the Treasury was kidnapped from her private school together with three other girls, taken by a human trafficking ring?’, knowing now was not the time. The Secretary was out of his mind. This would be a STRIKE team mission, but he demanded Captain America and the Avengers. “Something just doesn’t feel right. Maybe paranoia is to getting me-”

The Secretary demanded the Avengers; for some reason, Steve didn’t think it was enough and wanted the Devil on it too; because he had a bad feeling about this. It all made sense now.

You squeezed his hand and he turned it up to catch your hand in his and reciprocate the gesture, not caring he let go of the controller – the plane was still on autopilot then. He really had been sitting here only for show. You mentally rolled your eyes.

“Well, you’re old enough for that, but I don’t think it’s paranoia, Steve.” His blue eyes met yours, allowing you to glimpse at the unsettling uneasiness inside of him. “You have good instincts and you have every right to trust them. I know I do.”

His posture slightly relaxed, the corners of his lips rising just inconspicuously. “Thank you.”

“I’ll keep the irresponsibility to minimum. Even smaller minimum than usual. I promise. I’ll be on the highest alert,” you reassured him softly, sensing his stiffness resolving completely. Oh dear god, this man worried for others so much. He needed something light in his life.

You squeezed his hand one more time, rising to your feet and patting his shoulder, determined to light up the mood by quoting him. “If they hurt me, I’ll hurt them back. And I’ll walk it off if they kill-“

“Don’t say it.”  

His hand shoot up to your wrist, stopping you before you could finish and leave. You met his eyes once more, curling your fingers around his own wrist.

“I’ll be careful, Steve. I promise. Just try to do the same, okay?”

He smiled at the open display of care; it was nothing rare, yet, he would probably always find it precious. He was Captain America, he was meant to worry about others; you could understand why he was moved by someone else taking the role of the concerned friend.

“Go meet the Devil properly. You’re paired with him.”

You blinked in surprise, tilting your head to side. “Why me?”

“ ’Cause he seems to trust you enough to join the mission,” Steve stated, sounding as if it was obvious.

Oh. Okay, you could see his point.

“Are you saying the others don’t trust me then?” you demanded, pretending to be wounded. Maybe not completely pretending. You were the newbie after all, you would understand if they would be reluctant to do so even after the missions you had had together.

“Oh come on, Snowflake. You know we do.”

────── ·❆· ──────

You entered the larger space only to find Daredevil in the company of Clint and Tony. Tasha had probably run him through the basics of the mission and now was getting ready, while the guys were trying to interrogate the temporary addition to the team.

The Devil shot you a brief smile as you appeared and the other men noticed you too.

“But seriously. Is it Lucifer? Or is something like Raphael, like the archangel, and you’re trolling everyone?” Tony demanded and you snorted, the corners of Devil’s lips rising higher.

“No, Mr. Stark. It’s neither. Give up.”

You pated the billionaire’s shoulder. “You should suit up. We’re almost there. Plus I need to talk strategy with my partner.”

Clint grinned at Tony’s shocked expression. The man to be Iron Man gaped at Daredevil, pointing at him accusingly. “That’s not fair! Why do you get to be with the cool one?”

You rolled your eyes at the lame pun while Clint just snickered, getting up to prepare his gear.

“No, seriously. I bet I’m paired with the old man again.”

Daredevil shrugged. “Birds of feather flock together.”

You burst out laughing at the daring man who pointed out Tony’s age.

“Motherf-“

“Language!” you called out, your voice supported by three more, including one from the cockpit. Tony raised his chin, his hand imitating an offended diva gesture, which somehow activated his suit that started wrapping around him.

“Savages, all of you.” He turned his back to you and you approached the Devil, sitting next to him.

“That okay? You being paired with me?” you asked quietly.

“Of course. I get to be with the cool one. Can I ask what your abilities are exactly? Just to know-“

“Sure. Though you pretty much experienced it. I can create and manipulate ice, lower temperature of anything to almost absolute zero. It… can get nasty, but I’m trying to avoid that.”

“Understand. I don’t kill either.”

“I know.” He huffed out a laugh, less wry than you would expect from someone who just found out you had done a lot of reading on them. “You have a very good hearing and you kick ass. Anything else?”

He licked his lips, wavering. “Pretty much everything is amplified. Not just my hearing.”

Your eyes went wide in surprise. What? How— as in everything? Like his vision, sense of touch, sense of smell, taste too? “I’m not sure-“

“Would you like a demonstration?” You nodded without thinking. “Alright. Uhm… your heartbeat-“ just stopped, you wanted to say, because what the fuck- “is slower than average. You’re using a shampoo with… lilac, but there’s something I can’t really place. It’s adding to your aura, which is somehow colder – not because of the temperature, that’s normal, I guess maybe the device under your right ribs has something to with that – but… something cold, fresh.”

You felt your mouth fall open. Holy shit. He… how the hell did he perceive all that? Including the device that kept your body temperature in check?

He extended his hand and hovered over yours on your thigh. You wanted to ask what was he doing, but the answer came before you found the courage.

“Your hands, they are a bit colder and I can feel them… bursting with energy even when you’re not doing anything. It’s— I’m sorry. I’m scaring you. I didn’t want to-“

“It’s okay,” you blurted out, your voice unnaturally high and in stark contrast to his quiet and measured. He was scaring you a little, okay, but you had practically asked him. And you lived with a bunch of strange people, this shouldn’t freak you out, and it didn’t, it was just… “Surprising. But okay. Shocking, maybe. Fascinating. Terrible – how do you live like this? Knowing so much about people?”

You were glad he didn’t mention he could probably see every pore on your skin and- “Jesus, wait, you don’t have an x-ray vision too, do you?”

He chuckled, relaxing as he realized you weren’t scared or offended. “No. No, I don’t have an x-ray vision. And I promise I wouldn’t peek… without your permission.”

You let out incredulous laugh. Did he just… flirt with you?

“Good to know you’re a gentleman, Daredevil.”

“What do I call you?” he asked softly, tilting his head curiously. It was incredibly cute.

“Hm?”

“I know you heard me.”

You shrugged and settled with honesty and light joking. “Anything you want, I guess. Frostbite. Snow Queen. Really, there are number of options.”

“But not Snowflake,” he suspected, his voice falling even lower, sending your heart racing.

“No… uhm, I would rather if you didn’t call me that, yeah. It’s…”

“Too personal. I understand. Anderson?”

“Fake last name. Agent Anderson. What I became after I… died. You can go with that,” you offered, pushing down the unpleasant feeling it gave you.

“You don’t like it.”

“I don’t,” you confirmed with a shrug. Then you offered him to call you your first name, because that made the most sense really.

He just smiled, a boyish smile you wouldn’t expect on a face of man who beat up people in back alleys on regular basis. Then again, you really should know better by now, considering who you worked with.

“I’ll think about it.”  

────── ·❆· ──────

Part 3

────── ·❆· ──────

Tags: @mermaidxatxheart​ @murdermornings​ @elisaa-shelby​

────── ·❆· ──────

Thank you for reading! Tagging remanis the same; you want in or out, just lemme know. Kudos to you :-*

[zahra-kha]

Dear Diary 7

My thoughts are more in order than they’ve been now that I’ve gotten some decent sleep, so I should talk about my first blitzball game! We’re backtracking! I’ve never played blitzball before, and I wasn’t quite sure what to think when I was asked to join a minor league team when I didn’t even know the difference between a defender and a center (I could take a guess, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make here!).

Oh, and the faire! We had a fundraiser faire for Menphina’s Arms, the little orphanage in Idyllshire. It was three of our teams, us, the Mascots, and the Iron Eaters. I...don’t actually know how much we raised, but hopefully it was a lot! I was going around handing out balloons - although not many people wanted them, and the ones who did kept asking for teams that I wasn’t even offering balloons for. That was a little irritating, especially since I was shouting my lungs out for exactly which teams I was offering balloons for, and what balloons I had.

“Can I get the Allagan-”

No! No you cannot get the godsdamned Allagan Abes or Silver Lakers you heard me when I said what balloons I had. Have a fucking moogle.

I may have gotten asked that question one too many times.

Anyroad, it was nice to walk about and see all the different stalls and games that were being offered. And the costume contest was exciting! We had an amazing turnout and I had a great time. I also made a friend from the Mascots! His name is Jon, the one with the moogle head.

I was going about dancing from place to place and was dancing in front of his stall. He teased me about how my dancing would chase away his potential customers and I told him nay! My dancing would instead draw in customers, because I’m adorable and I could draw them to his stall (and maybe give out balloons in the process). Win/Win! 

He invited me to play his game when he started closing up shop and I won! It was this toss game, I basically just had to toss a ball into one of the bottles and I won. It was harder than it looked! That sort of precision isn’t easy you know!

But afterwards we chatted a bit, he’s a flirty guy! And well, he is pretty cute under that mask. I can appreciate someone’s looks, can’t I? You can like someone’s looks, or be attracted to someone, and not want to be with them. It’s a lesson I’m learning in a few different ways.

But blitzball! We had our game against the Mascots of all people! It was a lot of fun. I wasn’t quite sure what to do, military tactics are one thing, a sports game is another! People will arguably say it’s similar and I’d have to disagree. It’s really not. I’m an alternate so I don’t start, but I did get to play, and it was fun fighting with the other team, getting distracted through dance, and just overall having a good time. We won! I...honestly couldn’t believe it. We’re going against so many fierce competitors and our game was hard won! It was a rough back and forth, near misses and a lot of friendly taunting! I don’t do a lot of shit talking personally, but I may have to change that up when we go against the Iron Eaters. Gods, those are some mean looking bastards.

I stayed and watched the next game which had them going against the Risen. It was...intense! As to be expected. But I wanted to stay and get a feel for other matches outside of our own. I wasn’t really sure who to root for, since I don’t know too many people outside of my own team, but it was still exciting to watch. 

I chatted with Jon and the others a bit too. It was good being around the whole team, and I forgot to mention our cheerleaders! We had an amazing cheer, they worked so hard! Apparently, we also got a new center. There was some confusion since his name is the same and he looks a lot like Trystan, but he’s clearly not. Even I did a double take.

I admit I feel bad...with everything going on I guess I’m still processing how I feel about everything that happened between Trystan and myself and seeing someone with his name who looked kinda but not really like him made me feel out of sorts. I’m not trying to avoid him, but it’s weird. It’s weird okay?! Who wouldn’t feel awkward in that situation? It’s not his fault - it wasn’t like Trystan and I were dating, we weren’t anything. That’s why I don’t know what to feel and I’ve been trying not to think about it. Now I’ve got Trystan Sr in front of me and I feel like I’ve got no choice but to think about it and I don’t want to! I have other things I need to focus on!

Ugh! I hate dwelling on things! Nothing comes of it. There’s blitzball, helping to heal Armand, finding ways to thank Jasper for what he did (I may ask Tamala if she can help me come up with ideas, although I think I have some), coming up with routines for my performances, I just...don’t want to think about something that’s already done and over with. You can’t change the past, you just gotta keep moving forward towards the future.

Lastly, I want to talk about the ball. There was a homecoming ball I went to. It wasn’t very long, but it was interesting! I don’t know much about what a homecoming is, but the academy it was held at is lovely! There were uh, quite a few garleans it seems. Not that I care but it was different to see so many since coming to Eorzea. I mean, they’re pretty common back home, we do trade with them, but they’re soldiers. Seeing so many in their teens was a different feel.

I got to dance a bit, and Cecilia came but she seemed out of sorts. I didn’t pry, but hopefully she’ll be ok. She wasn’t at the game, either. There was something called a homecoming king and queen and that was interesting? I don’t know what that even meant but I clapped for them.

Vin was there with his boyfriend who is, ahaha, interesting. I met him once before at his birthday, but he was quiet and didn’t interact with us much. This time he was boisterous and I think either drunk or high. He’s an alright guy.

And I think we’re all caught up! Having a good night’s rest helped so much! I feel refreshed and I can focus on what I want to say for a change!

[heartofsnark]

This Is Love (Chapter Three): The Art of Haunting

Notes: Once again I’m late to posting this, though can you be late to posting something when you make your own schedule? Its time to finally see Dahlia at work and her getting to know her new partner as well as some of the citizens in Hope County.

Word Count: 12866

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, Anxiety Attacks, Ms Mable’s problem with Italians, Slut Shaming, Sexism (thanks, Hurk Sr.) 

For chapter one and the warnings about this fics overarching themes, please click here! 

For the previous chapter; click here!

Dahlia huffs out a little breath of air as she looks at herself in the mirror. Trying to look professional and put together, she’s lightened up her eyeliner a little. But it’s the shirt that’s killing her. She doesn’t mind the dark army green and likes it as an overshirt but buttoning it up just feels too put together for her. Dahlia thinks of how she saw Hudson wearing hers, tucked in and half buttoned on, she starts to try it, but just the act of tucking her shirt in feels completely unnatural.

She settles for just leaving it open over a black tank top and rolling her sleeves up to her elbow. If Whitehorse has a problem with it, he’ll call her out on it. Her shirt doesn’t have any messages or graphics on it, which is something. If he knew her better, he’d know that’s reason enough to celebrate. Dahlia ties her hair back in a small ponytail, the most her short hair can manage, with strands still falling out. But, it’s a bit more out of her face.

A deep breath to ease her nerves.

She’s been a cop for around two years, jumped at the chance to join the Academy not long after Lloyd and Caroline took her in,  but at the Reinette station she had Lloyd practically holding her hand every time she was unsure of something. Not to mention, there wasn’t much to do as a cop in Reinette. She probably spent the majority of those two years in the station pelting Chase with spitballs. If Hope County is minor league, Reinette was playing catch in the backyard.

Throwing on her leather jacket, she goes out to the shed and gets her bike out, throwing on her helmet before starting it up.

There’s a flutter of anxiety in her stomach as she walks into the station. A mixture of excitement and fear, she’s not sure which emotion is winning out at the moment.

“Good morning, Junior Deputy,” Nancy greets her with a smile as Dahlia hangs her jacket on a nearby hook. 

“Morning.”

“Earl wants to see you in the bullpen office, through that door right there.” 

In the open office with collections of desks, she sees a few random officers, and the two deputies from her interview. Dahlia’s heart picks up spend when Hudson looks over towards her, flashing a grin. 

“There’s the Rookie.” 

“About time, probie.” 

“Hey…” 

“Not for nothing, you might wanna fix your uniform before the sheriff sees.” 

“Stickler?” 

“Rookie!” The sharp bark of a yell rings out, Whitehorse coming out of his office and making Dahlia snap to attention, “what the hell, sort your uniform out, this is a police station, not high school.” 

“On it,” she responds, buttoning up the shirt to just beneath the neckline of her tank top. 

“Tuck it in too.” 

“Yes, sir,” she grumbles, following orders. Ironically, she feels more like she’s in high school now. Getting barked at about dress code violations. 

“With that settled,” Whitehorse knocks his knuckles against the only desk without anything on it, “this is gonna be your desk, feel free to settle into it when you get a chance. Come back to my office, we got some paperwork and details to take care of, then you’ll be out on patrol with Pratt.” 

Pratt grumbles something she can’t quite hear, and she rolls her eyes, following Whitehorse back into his office. There are a few forms he places before her and she gives her half assed signature on them. Then he starts rummaging through storage in his office, getting a belt out with holsters and pouches. Empty and then he starts to lay out what’s to fill those, each items she recognizes well from her job in Reinette. 

Handcuffs, standard steel and gleaming under the lights of the office. A baton, pepper spray, a walkie talkie style radio,  a taser, a flashlight, and a black Glock 22 sidearm. 

“I’m sure you heard all of this back in Louisiana, but the weight of a loaded gun is a heavy one. It’s a lot of responsibility, it should only be used when absolutely necessary.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Alright then, gear up and get ready for patrol.” 

She nods and loops the utility belt, fastening the buckle then attaching each thing she needs, the weight of it all hanging around her waist as she goes back to the bullpen to meet with Pratt. 

She can’t help but let out a huffy sigh when she sees Pratt standing beside his desk and drinking coffee, chatting with Hudson. Her eyes instinctively drawn to the female deputy, remembering that conversation she had with Whitehorse. A crush. Her heart hurts. How can she have a crush, she knows nothing about Hudson, are they meant to be this superficial? Hudson is beautiful; no one with functioning eyes could debate that fact. Long dark hair and olive-green eyes, there’s a tattoo on her forearm that Dahlia never noticed before. Some sort of eagle with an American flag, maybe she has military in her family? Not that this fact means anything to Dahlia, why would she care about that? 

“Looks like I’m stuck on babysitting duty.” Pratt’s voice cuts through her thoughts like ice water being splashed in her face. She flushes red, realizing how stupid she must have looked just gawking for a moment at a pretty girl. 

“If anyone’s stuck babysitting it’s gonna be Rook,” Hudson tells him, rolling her eyes and flashing another big smile at Dahlia. Everything about her is so warm and comforting. Crushes suck, she’s finally in control of her life and her body decides she can’t control it. Instead of responding or communicating like a functional human being, Dahlia scratches at the back of her neck and avoids eye contact. 

“Whatever, c’mon, probie I ain’t got all day.” 

Dahlia reluctantly follows after Pratt, out to one of the parked patrol cars. He climbs into the driver’s seat and she plops herself in the passenger side. Sheriff gone, she immediately starts to undo the buttons on her uniform shirt. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m not wearing my uniform like this, not if I don’t have to.”

“Well, you have to.”

“Whitehorse isn’t here.” She shrugs and untucks her shirt. 

“I have seniority over you, Rookie. If I say you need to have your uniform on properly, you have to.”

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“You need to respect your higher ups.” 

“You wanna lecture me about respect and my uniform, or do you wanna go do our jobs?” 

“Fine, but you better lose the attitude.” 

“I’ll get right on that.” She rolls her eyes, looking out the window of the patrol car as Pratt starts up the engine. This is going to be a less than fun probationary hire, hopefully it won’t be long until she’s able to patrol on her own. 

The morning rolls by slowly, no calls in or anything needing attention. Dahlia is comfortable in silence for the most part, content to just watch the environment as they drive around. Forcing conversation or small talk isn’t appealing. If she grows close and gets to know people, she’d rather it happen naturally than just desperately trying to fill silence. 

Pratt is less comfortable with silence, she learns quickly. As much as he talked crap about not wanting her to annoy him or be a problem, he’s far more concerned with getting her attention than she is his. 

“So, you came here from Louisiana?” 

“Mmhm.” 

“What made you wanna become a cop?’ 

“…”

She already passed her interview, she doesn’t want to spend her time rambling to someone else about her situation; he just wants to do her job. 

“Not much of a talker, huh?” 

“…”

It isn’t until around noon that something finally happens. It’s nothing major, a red ford driving through a stop sign. No crashes or accidents, but illegal, nonetheless. Pratt flicks on the lights and the siren, rushing after the traffic violator. The truck pulls off on the side of the road and Dahlia goes to unbuckle her seat belt. 

“What are you doing?” Pratt asks, looking at her like she’s lost her damn mind. 

“Getting out to give this guy a ticket.” 

“You’re not going anywhere, you stay right there.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me, I don’t want you getting out of this car,” he tells her one more time as he steps out. She groans, it’s just a ticket, but at least it was something. It’d give her an excuse to stretch her legs. Does he seriously think she can’t handle writing a ticket? She glares as Pratt talks to the man and writes up the ticket, returning to the patrol car without any trouble. 

“I call the next ticket, at least.” 

“Doesn’t work like that.” 

“What do you mean it doesn’t work like that? You have to let me get out of the car at some point.”

“You’re gonna sit and learn by observing.” 

“Observing what?! You walking to a car? I know how to write tickets, that’s basic, you can at least let me do that much.” 

“Don’t ask questions, alright?” 

“I will ask any and every question that I damn well please.” 

Pratt scoffs at her before starting the car back up, the day continues much the same to Dahlia’s absolute chagrin. 

Someone speeds, she’s told to just stay in the car. Someone makes an illegal turn; she’s told to stay in the car. They’ve pulled over the fourth person of the day, someone they caught on their phone driving. Once again, Pratt tells her to sit still as he goes and takes care of it, coming back afterwards. 

“I swear to god if you don’t let me do something, I’m gonna scream.” 

“Don’t be a brat, there’s no need to send you out for traffic violations.” 

“It’s better than just sitting here, my legs are falling asleep.” 

“Deputy Pratt, Hale, this is dispatch,” Nancy’s voice drifts through the radio in the middle of the car. 

“Pratt responding.” 

“We have a call from Ms. Mable, Peaches got out again, you’re our nearest unit.” 

“Ugh, can that old b-,” he pauses for a moment and a grin comes across his face, looking over at Dahlia, “you know what, I think this is perfect for the probie’s first call. Tell her we’re headed that way.” 

“You sure that’s a great idea, Pratt?” 

“Already on our way, over.” 

“Peaches?” Dahlia asks as they start to head up to the northern part of the Henbane River area. 

“It’s Ms. Mable’s cat, she’s always escaping and gets into all kinds of trouble. The F.A.N.G center is the closest thing we have to animal control, but we don’t ask for their help unless absolutely necessary.” 

It makes sense, she guesses, not much is needed to tame a cat. 

“If it means I can get out of the car, I’ll take it.” 

She yawns and leans back in her seat as Pratt starts to take her up a mountain slope, signs for Peaches Taxidermy catching her eye. There are two buildings when they park as well as a large caged in enclosure, with a box. Seems like a lot of space for a cat, maybe she has big dogs as well, though the enclosure appears empty. An older woman with short dark hair is standing nearby, a little toy mouse in her hand. The deputies get out to greet her and when the woman sees them, her expression goes sour. 

“It’s about damn time.”

“Got here as soon as we could, Ms. Mable.” 

“Well, it wasn’t soon enough and who the hell is this?” The woman’s eyes narrow at Dahlia. 

“I’m Deputy-” 

“Junior Deputy,” Pratt cuts her off and she scoffs. He can’t at least give her the deputy title. 

“Are you Italian?” Ms. Mable asks instead, and Dahlia can’t help but give a look of disbelief, what does that matter?

“Uh, like, half, yeah.”

“Oh, just what I need for my jewelry to go missing.” 

“Okay…. not even gonna tell you what the other half is…” 

“Do you have any idea where Peaches might have gone?” Pratt steers the conversation back, thankfully saving Dahlia from anymore conversation about her heritage. 

“Sometimes she goes down to the little camp south of here.” 

“Alright, we’ll get it taken care of. Probie, go grab that bag of treats.”

Dahlia nods and grabs the bag of treats, chicken livers, because animal treats are all weird and gross. She carries it with her as she follows Pratt down the rural little path, over a little bridge that crosses a stream. The woods clears out to a small campsite with tents and an extinguished campfire. 

“Not to be a buzzkill, but isn’t this a little below our paygrade? I mean Mable isn’t decrepit, surely she can get her own cat back.” 

“Don’t worry about it, just get the treats out, Peaches will come running to you.” Pratt is leaning back against a towering tree, arms crossed, relaxed like he’s on vacation. 

“Okie doke…” 

Dahlia rifles through the bag and gets out a treat, squishy and weird under her fingers. Her hands are going to reek like cat food for the rest of the day. She crouches down and holds the treat out; looking around the area, trying to find the housecat, but she can’t see anything. 

“Here Peaches,” she calls out, hoping to entice the cat out. 

Then she’s on her back. 

The wind has gone out of her lungs, heavy paws pin her shoulders down as a mass of golden fur lands on her. She blinks for a minute, stars dazing her vision as shock overwhelms her. Then she takes it in. Sharp feline eyes glaring down at her, one gold and the other blue. 

A cougar. 

She clenches her jaw; she’s pinned and can’t reach her weapons. She’s at the mercy of the animal. Its lips pull back and white fangs shine in the daylight, the sun illuminating the golden cat on top of her. Beautiful, she can’t help but think as she waits for those fangs to sink into the tender flesh of her throat. 

It pushes it maw into her open hand, where the chicken liver is and gobbles it up. She’s next, isn’t she? But once the treat is gone, the cougar licks at her hand, collecting any leftover flavor. Then it turns back to her, the main dish after an appetizer. 

A sandpaper rough tongue rubs over Dahlia’s face. Something is revving like an engine on top of her…the cougar is purring. Pressing and nuzzling its fluffy face against Dahlia before giving another lick. No hint of bite or teeth mingling in the affectionate gesture. What is…

Pratt is laughing, she realizes. 

The cougar’s paws shift so she can lift her arms and she reaches to pet the seemingly docile mountain lion. That’s when she feels, a collar, the creature’s face was too close, and she was unable to see it. As she shifts the collar, she hears a bell jingle. 

“Peaches, meet Rook. Rook, Peaches,” Pratt manages to say through his hyena cackling. 

“Peaches!? Holy shit…holy shit!” 

Dahlia is able to move out from under the cougar, Peaches shifting her weight enough to allow the young deputy to stand up. The big cat watches as Dahlia moves, tail delicately flicking back and forth, mismatching eyes gleaming. A thunderous purr lets out as Dahlia scoops up the bag of treats that fell in the pounce of Peaches landing on her. She offers another and the cat greedily eats it from her hand. Dahlia’s cheeks ache from the big smile stretched across her face, this is incredible. She’s feeding a mountain lion, domesticated mountain lion. 

“You know…” Pratt draws out, laughter having died out as he watches them, “I kinda expected you to freak out.” 

“This is so cool. She just…domesticated a cougar?” 

“Yeah, from what I heard this ain’t the first one either, technically this is Peaches two.” 

“No points for creativity, but fuck, this is, holy shit.” She scratches beneath Peaches’ ear and she leans into it, purring with every rub of Dahlia’s blunt nails. 

“You like animals?” 

“Don’t you?”

“They’re okay,” Pratt walks over and pets Peaches head, “I’ll take you to the F.A.N.G Center, we ever catch a day off.” 

“Yeah,” she catches what he just said and raises an eyebrow at him, “you wanna spend your days off with me?” 

“C’mon we gotta get Peaches back to Ms. Mable.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Use the treats to lure her back, toss ‘em and she’ll run after them.” 

“That seems tedious…” 

“Nothing else we can do; you can’t pack her.” 

“I mean, I could,” Dahlia says with a shrug, Peaches is big, but she’s strong. Wouldn’t be easy, per say; but she could manage it. 

“You can’t lift a cougar, Thumbelina,” Pratt tells her again, ruffling her hair as if to emphasize her diminutive size. She pouts and glares at him. Dahlia digs out a treat and lifts it up. 

“Peachy up,” she says and pats her shoulder. 

To her surprise, the cougar jumps right up. Front paws on Dahlia’s shoulder and hind legs on her stomach. The deputy uses her free hand to wrap around the cougar, feeding her the treat before moving to use both hands to support the cat’s weight. Her legs and arms strain with the strength to lift her, but she doesn’t buckle. 

Pratt scoffs as Peaches nuzzles against Dahlia, sandpaper rough kisses. With a roll of his eyes; the older deputy leads the way back up to Peaches Taxidermy. Dahlia’s trying not to laugh as she carries the cougar, licks and nuzzles that leave her hair sticking up at odd angles, irritating red raised spots on her skin. Peaches might actually be more affectionate than most housecats Dahlia’s been around. 

The walk uphill nearly sends her tumbling, making Pratt snicker as she gets her bearings back. Finally, they return to the cleaning, Ms. Mable seeming to perk up, if only a small amount, at the sight of her cat. 

“There she is, gracing us with her presence,” her tone is meant to be sarcastic, but there’s no genuine malice as Dahlia takes the time to carry Peaches to her enclosure. 

The big cat takes her time getting the message to jump down, but after a moment she leaps off onto the big rubber tire in her enclosure. Dahlia gives her one more scratch behind her ears before stepping out of the enclosure, locking the little latch. 

“How’d she get out?” Dahlia asks, looking for tears in the caging, if need be she can mend it for Ms. Mable. 

“I was feeding her and she went rushing out.” 

Dahlia nods in understanding, at least there’s no more efforts that need to be made. She tries to fiddle with and fix her cat drool covered hair, but without a mirror she gives up. Pratt snickering against the back of his hand as she makes her was back over from the cage. 

“Try to keep a better eye on her, have a great day.” 

“Eh, get out of here, shoo!” 

Her and Pratt go back to the patrol car, Dahlia plopping down into the passenger side with a huff. Pratt turns to look at her, a stupid grin pulling at his lips. Her cheek is irritated, no doubt bright red from Peaches’ scratchy tongue and her hair is falling out of it’s tie, as well as sticking up at weird angles. Little golden hairs are clinging to her clothes. But, she’s grinning.

The laughter erupts, her cheeks ache and her stomach twinges as she can’t contain it. She holds her sides, cackling at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. She just carried a cougar. She’s covered in kitty slobber. 

“You look like you’ve been through a tornado!” 

“I just carried a cougar,” she says amazed, “ there’s nothing you can say to ruin this day!” 

He just rolls his eyes as the laughter dies down; Dahlia pulling down the mirror to fix her hair. After a few moments of her taming slobber coded flyaway hairs the radio crackles to life from the car console. 

“Units, there’s been a call in from Audrey, she said Aaron is back behind her diner and rummaging through trash.” 

“Pratt, responding, we’ll be there shortly,” he starts the car engine back up, “fuckin’ Tweak.” 

“Tweak?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow as she fastens her seatbelt. 

“He’s one of the local methheads, most of ‘em hang out in the abandoned train cars. But not ole Tweak, he’s a big fan of digging through dumpsters and shit.” 

“Is he dangerous?” 

“Nah, just a pain in the ass. We’ll pat him down, if he’s got any of the shit on him, we take him in for a while. If not, all we can do is tell him to scram.” 

She nods in understanding and pulls out her phone, searching for drug treatment facilities in the area that offer affordable or pro-bono help. It’s a long shot. She knows that. But she knows that treatment does more good than locking them away does.  The nearest place is in Missoula; not exactly ideal, but it’s an option. 

Dahlia digs a scrap piece of paper out of the glove department and scribbles down the number, name, and address. If Pratt notices, he says nothing. She settles back in her seat, watching the world pass by as they make their way south bound through the region.

 The lake calm around the island in the middle of the whole county, splashing peacefully against the shores. A deer and it’s baby grazing near the woods. She remembers what she’s been told, about the hiking trails in the mountains. Dahlia has always loved animals and nature, memories of hiding in the woods for days at a time, warming snakes under her jacket or trudging through swamp lands in search of alligators. Then she remembers Pratt mentioning the F.A.N.G Center. She’s read a bit about it, like an animal sanctuary that allows public access. They have some famous bear there. 

“What days do we get off?” 

“Jesus, didn’t you bother talking to the sheriff about that shit?” 

“No.” 

“Fuckin’ Christ…,” he shakes his head,  “Deputies get the best shifts, with weekends off.” 

“So, you wanna go to the F.A.N.G center, Saturday or Sunday?” 

“Oh, um, uh…”  He scratches at the stubble on his chin, his posture stiffening somewhat. 

“You said, you’d take me, right?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take you there… Around like noon, Saturday, good? 

“Sure.” 

Maybe Lloyd was right; Pratt might not be as big of an asshole as she thought. It’s nice of him to offer to show her around places; maybe they can become friends. Even if she’s not the most talkative and he’s not the nicest, who knows, might balance out somehow. 

They pull up to the diner, the same one Whitehorse treated her to the other day. But sure enough in the dumpsters behind the building she can see a man digging through the trash. Pratt parks and shuts off the engine, apparently, he’s okay with her doing this because he doesn’t stop Dahlia from stepping out of the car. Why he’d be more concerned with her at traffic stops than dealing with a drug addict, she wouldn’t know, but she has no intentions of looking a gift horse in the mouth. 

“Hey, officers can you help me?” A voice asks, stopping them before they get to the dumpsters. The voice is noticeably a bit different from what she’s become used to hearing here, it’s a man with a map in his hand, maybe he’s not a local?

“What can we help you with, sir?” 

“I’m trying to find my way to Rock Bass Lake, but I’m having trouble, finding my way.” 

“It’s far east of here, you have to,” Pratt starts to help, being the one of the two who could actually give directions. Dahlia decides she might as well take care of the Tweak issue while he does that. 

His hooded back continues to dig through the trash; muttering things she doesn’t quite catch. The stranger’s foot slips out under him where he’s climbing up to get in the dumpster and Dahlia lurches forward, catching him before he can fall. 

“Oh fuck, uh thanks, man,” he stutters out as she gets him back on his feet, he’s wearing a backwards cap under his hood, tattoos up on his neck and what may be a tattoo or a smudge of dirt by his eye. 

“No problem, you alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” his eyes land on the sheriff department patch on her shirt, “oh shit, uh, officer.” 

“Hey,...?” She tries to prompt him for his name, even if she already knows it. 

“Uh, Tweak, well my name Aaron, but call me Tweak, please.” He shuffles his feet and awkwardly scratches at his face, stumbling over every word. 

“You know you can’t be doing this, right?” 

“I, uh, well I know that legally, I like can’t. But, I gotta, like, uh, prepare and shit, man.” 

“Prepare?” 

“Shit’s about to hit the fan and I gotta be ready to try to help, ya know?” He scratches at the back of his neck, hard enough for smears of red to stain his fingers. 

“That’s a nice thought, but I think the diner owners would prefer to find other ways to prepare…” she chews her lip, knowing what she needs to check, “do you have anything on you, right now, like substance wise?” 

“Um, oh, uhh, well, I, no, definitely not, I’m clean, m-man, I promise.” 

“You know I gotta check, right?” 

“Yeah…” 

With the ease of someone completely use to pat downs, he place his hands on the dumpster. She sighs; drug cases just aren’t fun, especially when it’s just possession cases, not sellers. It’s one thing to arrest someone for doing something awful and ruining someone’s life. But, when you know what they need more than anything is help, it bugs her to treat them like criminals. She pats him down with a heavy heart, her jaw clenching when she finds a baggie of crystal meth in his pocket.  Enough that could warrant at least three years in prison. 

“I swear, I uh, I really don’t know how that got there, I-“ He stutters to explain it away as he turns to face her. 

“Look, dude,” she speaks low, double checking that Pratt is still talking to the non-local, “I know this is rich coming from someone who just met you, but I don’t wanna see you die from this shit. Legal, illegal is whatever, I don’t want someone getting the call and finding you dead in your own sick.” 

“I, uh, I, appreciate that, it’s just, ya know...” 

“It ain’t easy, I get that. I don’t know if you can read this,” she pulls out what she wrote down, then realizes how that might have sounded, “not like I don’t know if you can read, but ‘cause my handwriting is shit, I, you know what I mean.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I uh, can see the number clear, yeah.” 

“But, it’s a place in Missoula that offers treatment and they work with your income, so you can afford it. You agree to call this place and try to get clean and  I’ll ‘accidentally’ flush this stuff and forget I found it on you, sound fair?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s yeah, absolutely, fuck, yeah,” He’s nodding his head furiously to agree. She wants to hope it’s excitement for treatment and not just getting by with having meth on him. 

“Now, if I find out you didn’t, and you get busted again. I will arrest you. And, uh, if you have any trouble getting to Missoula for treatment, you just call down to the station, ask for me and I’ll try to get you taken care of, alright?” 

“That’s yeah, thank you so much, I, thank you,” he gushes and takes the little card from her hand, while she tucks the baggie discreetly into her pocket.

“Okay, now get out of here and leave their dumpster alone.” 

Tweak goes running off; no doubt eager to take his victory and consider it done. Conveniently, right as Pratt manages to break away from the man asking directions. 

“Swear to fuck, that dude didn’t understand a damn thing I said,” he raises an eyebrow, “Tweak didn’t have anything on him?” 

“Nah, he must have smoked the last of it.” 

“Eh, well, you got him to buzz off. All we can do.” 

“Yeah, but, I gotta go to the bathroom, real quick.” 

“Gotcha, we’ll grab a bite to eat while we’re here too.” 

She nods in understanding, the two of them heading into the diner. Cassie the waitress from yesterday is nowhere to be found today, she notes before she heads to the bathroom. Guilt that what she’s doing is indeed illegal and could get her fired eats at the back of her head, but she flushes the drugs away anyway. In a couple weeks, she’ll call the treatment facility and see if he's called in.  As she’s buttoning the uniform shirt up, she notices something she hasn’t seen before. What appears to be a helicopter parked at a clearing behind the station, a helipad is the word she thinks?

“The station has helicopters?” 

“Yeah, there’s a lot of woods and fields here, so when we have missing people…helps to get a bird’s eye view.

“That’s really cool,” she admits as they step out of the patrol car. 

“Yeah, I’m our station’s pilot,” Pratt tells her with an arrogant smirk that makes her immediately regret deciding to bring it up. She gives a nod in response, not wanting this to drag on into an excuse for Pratt to stroke his own ego.

Pratt and Hale make their way back into the station bullpen, Hudson is at her desk and working over some paperwork. Little pieces of dark hair falling into her face, the strands that can’t be pulled back into her braid. Dahlia’s heart picks up a strange pace at the way the light catches in Hudson’s green eyes. Ignoring it and swallowing the lump in her throat, Dahlia sits down at her own, bare desk, still needing her to add her own touches.

“Heard you guys had to get Peaches back for Ms Mable,” Hudson comments as Hale and Pratt settle in.

“Yeah, the big old cat got out again. Probie packed her all the way back from that campsite.”

Hudson lets out a breathy little laugh and heat shoots up Dahlia’s face, she leans back as far as she can in her chair without toppling over, nearly upside down and staring at the wall so the other two deputies won’t see what she’s sure is a beet red face. She’s not sure if it’s the sound of Hudson’s laugh or possibility of embarrassment. Carrying a cougar seemed really cool to her, but what if Hudson thinks it’s stupid?

“You seriously carried that giant cougar?”

“I mean, we had to get it back,” Dahlia says, doing her best to shrug nonchalantly as she leans so far back. At least when she sits back up, she can blame the red color on blood rushing to her head.

“Rookie, you’re gonna fall and split your head open.” Whitehorse yells out, making Dahlia jump and nearly make his prediction a reality. She didn’t even hear his office door open, she slides back into place, glaring in his direction as she sinks almost all the way down out of spite.

Another rustle catches her attention and she realizes the two senior deputies are packing up, the shift coming to a close.

“Well, we’re headed to the Spread Eagle for a drink,” Pratt says. She remembers the image of Whitehorse and Lloyd blowing off steam at the bar after a shift, how good of friends they must be. Seems, Hudson and Pratt are that good of friends as well. Then she remembers the F.A.N.G Center invitation.

“Oh, uh, Hudson?”

“Yeah?”

“Pratt offered to take me to the F.A.N.G Center Saturday,  you wanna come along?”

Pratt’s jaw clenches and she sees what looks like a faint red color brushing over the apples of his cheeks. Hudson is grinning a bright smile though.

“Did he?” she raises an eyebrow at him and Pratt avoids eye contact, “sure, that sounds fun.”

“Yeah...fun,” Pratt grumbles as the pair leave the station, saying goodbyes to Dahlia and Whitehorse.

“So, how was the first day, Rookie?” Whitehorse asks her once the other deputies have left.

“Decent, Peaches was cool, but…”

“But?”

“Pratt wouldn’t let me hand out any tickets or citations, up until Peaches, he was making me sit in the car.”

“Yeah, that figures,” Whitehorse says in a low voice, as if that makes complete sense and maybe to him it does.

“It figures?”

“That what happened to Danny hit him harder than he lets on, Hudson’s been taking it the worst, but it hurt everyone.”

“Danny?”

Whitehorse pulls up a chair to her desk, sitting himself down and taking a sigh as he pulls his hat off his head. There’s a far off look in his blue gray eyes as he collects himself. She moves herself up properly to sit, clenching her jaw as the mood shifts in the office.

“He was the deputy here before you, he was here longer than Hudson or Pratt.”

She nods, not wanting to interrupt, just letting him know she’s listening. He takes another sighing breath, voice rasping from the difficulty of talking about this.

“He was Hudson’s partner, during a routine traffic stop, he was shot and died on the scene. He was a good man and his death has...left an impact on us all.”

“I’m sure, thanks for telling me.” She’s not sure how she’d feel about it, having never lost a coworker in the line of duty.

“No problem,” he rises from his chair and plops his hat back on his head.

A warm heavy hand lands on the top of her hair and he ruffles it, she laughs. The little gesture makes warmth flood her heart, he really does remind her so much of Lloyd every now and again. It helps make this entire thing a bit easier and maybe that’s part of why he wanted her to take this job so bad, maybe he knew his old friend would make this process a less painful one.

She grabs her jacket from the little hook, throwing it on as she follows the sheriff out of the station. The cool night air chills her skin, a breeze blowing her hair back. There’s a beautiful night sky hanging overhead, the stars are brilliant and vibrant. Nothing blocking out their radiance. A soft gasp escapes her lips. 

“You won’t see a night sky like that anywhere else,” Whitehorse tells her, squeezing her shoulder; warmth seeping into her bones even as the night tries to chill her. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

“Do you know any constellations, Rookie?” 

She shakes her head no, feeling Whitehorse squeezing her shoulder, the warmth and kindness of it grounding in a way. 

“That one right there is Andromeda,” he points out a collection of stars that are meant to create some image, not that she can see it, “you know her story?”

“No.”

“Her mother, Cassiopeia, pissed off a bunch of nymphs and when they sent monsters after them. She chained Andromeda up and offered her as a sacrifice to save herself.”

Dahlia clenches her jaw; a mother offering her child up to a monster. She wishes that didn’t resonate so deeply in her heart. Constellations have never been something that interested her, she thinks stars are beautiful, but every time someone tries to show her a constellation she can’t seem to see the picture in her head. They’re just specks of light, pinpricks of vibrancy in a black void. But… she makes a note of these ones, hoping she can find them again later. 

The rumble of an engine and tires screeching ends the peaceful moment, a white truck coming to a rubber burning. She tenses, the frantic driving setting her on edge immediately.  A man jumps out of the driver seat, about six feet tall with a beard and snakes tattooed down his forearms. The word WRATH tattooed and crossed out on his chest; she immediately is reminded of the worker at the hotel. She was told it was now in Eden’s Gates hands, those sins seem to be standard within the religion.

“Lonny, was expecting to see you sooner,” Whitehorse greets him.

“Just now got word, you had some of our men locked up.”

“Your men?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow, the wording throwing her off. His narrowed eyes land on her and he smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes and images of wolves baring their teeth flash through her mind.

“Members of the Father’s flock; Nathaniel and Theodore. You wouldn’t happen to be the new deputy who arrested them, would you?”

“You already know about me?”

“Well,  when brother Theodore called he mentioned a little girl trying to play cop.” The man inches closer, into her personal space.

“I’m not playing anything and your ‘brothers’ were robbing the bar.”

“Confiscating deputy, cleaning up filth within the county, you should be thankful we’re trying to do your job for you and actually help the people here.”

“Your ‘help’-”

“We’re clocking out for the night Lonny, our night shift officers have all reported in, you can talk to the dispatch about bailing them out.” Whitehorse interjects, sticking a hand between them.

“Will do… that your bike?” He asks, nodding towards her motorcycle, barely acknowledging Whitehorse.

“Yeah, what’s it to you?”

“Just making small talk.  You two have a good night, I’ll be seeing you around deputy.” Lonny tells her as he starts to walk back into the station, giving her a clap on the back that’s meant to look friendly, but there is nothing gentle in the harsh smack.

Once he’s out of earshot, Dahlia turns to look at Whitehorse, her expression must be making it clear what’s on her mind.

“You don’t wanna be making enemies your first day on the job.”

“I wasn’t doing anything, you saw the way he acted.”

“Just try to place nice, Rookie.”

“I do play nice, but I’m not taking anyone’s crap. He wants to pick a fight with me, I’ll pick one right back.”

“Try to stay on Eden’s Gate’s good side, they’re not dangerous, but they’re not people to be fucked with.”

“I’m not fucking with anyone, but if they break the law, I will arrest them same as I would anyone.”

“I’m not saying not to,” he puts a hand on her shoulder and looks into her eyes, trying to calm her, “I’m just saying try not to fuel any fires.”

“I ain’t fueling shit,” she grumbles, fingers clenching around her helmet.

“Stop pouting.”

“I’m not pouting...I’m scowling.”

“Well stop that too, head your ass home and stay safe, Rook.”

“Okay, dad,” she says with a roll of her eyes, earning another hair ruffle from Whitehorse. She waves a quick bye and pulls on her helmet before heading home.

The alarm clock buzzes her awake the next morning and she groans, half dressed, and her blanket tossed across the room. Sweat has built on her skin over the night. Reinette was worse with heat, but it’s hot enough to annoy. Then again, maybe she’s just being a baby. She’s always been finicky with temperatures.

Fresh from the shower, she’s trying to figure out what to do about her uniform. She knows already she’s going to blatantly disobey uniform policies when Whitehorse isn’t around. But she can’t exactly get away with wearing shorts. Ripped jeans and a cropped top are all she can manage, buttoning the green shirt up before going into the station.

“What are you wearing?” Pratt asks when she starts unbuttoning her uniform shirt in the patrol car. 

“Clothes.” 

“Barely. No ones going to take you seriously dressed like that.”  

She shakes her head, it’s not that bad. Black velvet and lace, with a laced up ribbon tie. There’s some stomach showing where it cuts off, peeks of it through the lacey section of the fabric, and maybe through where it’s laced together. 

“Skin is skin, everyone has it, who cares?” 

“People around here will care.”

“Oh please, no one worries about shit like that anymore.” 

Pratt rolls his eyes before he starts up the patrol car engine. They’re barely thirty minutes into patrolling the Holland Valley when dispatch comes through the radio. 

“We got a call from Hurk Drubman Sr., says someone’s messing with his campaign again,” the dispatcher Nancy tells them.

“This should be interesting,” Pratt murmurs under his breath before picking up the radio to answer, “Pratt and Hale, responding.”

Dahlia can’t help but let out a little sigh, only a day in and she’s caught on that ‘interesting’ to Pratt more than likely means it will be something meant to annoy or embarass her. But then again last time, he thought introducing her to Peaches would scare her and that was just plain cool. As soon as she talks to Lloyd and Caroline she just knows ‘I cuddled a cougar’ is going to be the first thing she tells them. So, what’s truly the worst that could happen?

They travel through the Henbane River region and around; Drubman Sr.’s home is apparently not far from where the Whitetail Mountain area meets Henbane, north of the entire county. It’s a nice area, with a large house, a giant garage with a Jeep parked inside of it, and it’s right on the water; white steps leading to a dock. It’s beautiful place to live, that’s for sure. As they pull in, she sees an older man with a dark mustache and a cap pulled over his head, he sits in a chair on the porch with a shotgun in his lap.

She shoots a glance over to Pratt, the sight of a weapon setting a bit on edge, but he seems unaffected. Guns weren’t uncommon in Louisiana, southern state and all. But, the people in Reinette tended to be less…blasé about their gun ownership she supposes. Only using them for farming purposes; dealing with pests, wild animals, and on one of two sorrowful occasions having to put down a beloved animal who had no hope of recovering. She can’t say she knew anyone who’d just have it out like a lap puppy.

Dahlia follows Pratt out of the car and she immediately feels the old man’s eyes land on her, her skin crawls, he doesn’t like her. She knows what it’s like for someone to despise her and this man is already about there.

“About damn time!” He immediately bellows out as they come up to the porch.

“Is every old person in this county an ungrateful dick?” Dahlia grumbles under her breath, earning an elbow in her ribs from Pratt that almost hurts, she sticks her tongue out at him.

“And who the hell is this? Bad enough you even let women on the force, but now they’re dressing up like whores!”

“Rude.”

“Don’t worry about her, why did you call?”

“Some liberal fuckhead broke onto my damn property and vandalized my signs!”

Dahlia cranes her neck a bit, there’s a stack of signs just behind the old jackass, red and white Vote Drubman signs that have been covered in various curse words, all written in dark black marker. Apparently, someone doesn’t like him, she can’t possibly imagine why. 

“Alright, we’ll file a report for vandalism and see what we can do.”

“Which is code for doing a fat load of nothing, that’s the problem with cops nowadays, too scared to take any action. Too pussified to put a bullet in anyone anymore.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s actually the exact opposite, but go off, I guess.” 

“Probie, get the report forms from the car.”

She groans and makes her walk back to the patrol car, digging out the forms to file a report before bringing them back. Pratt is asking questions and jotting things down as the old man prattles them off. Despite never seeing who did it, he’s convinced it must be some ‘libtard’ and probably a ‘minority’, desperate to sink his campaign.  She leans against one of the pillars of the house, staring off into space as Pratt starts filling out the small detail crap. 

“You a registered voter?” Hurk Sr. suddenly asks her.

“You called me a whore, five seconds ago.”

“I said you were dressed like one, get it right.”

“Jesus fucking christ.” 

“Hey, daddy!” A masculine voice suddenly calls out, there’s a man walking onto the property. Portly and tall with short dark hair.

“Oh god, he’s back.” Hurk Sr. grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“Now, I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little sad you couldn’t come get me from the airport and made me walk all the way out here. But no hard feelings between family, and,” his blue eyes land on Dahlia and she raises an eyebrow at him, “oh, you didn’t have to hire a stripper just to welcome me home, not that I mind.”

“Excuse you?” Dahlia says low and stern, indignation making heat floods up her cheeks, what is wrong with him? It’s a crop top and jeans, not pasties and a g-string, who the hell would even look at her and think stripper? How desperate do you have to be? Her hand is hovering over her taser as the man comes closer, if he does anything weird, he’s getting it.

Pratt sputters and bursts into laughter, holding his stomach as he cracks up. She kicks him firmly in the shin and again when he just laughs louder. This isn’t funny,  she’s about to murder every man here. 

“God damn it Junior, I am in the middle of discussing a serious matter, I told you not to come back here!”

“Oh, don’t be like that daddy.  You know mama doesn’t want me at the Marina since she had Xander move in, says she can’t have too much stupid in one place, same reason she doesn’t like when Sharky visits.”

“So why the hell should I have to put up with it?!”

“Ah, come on.”

“Hey, if we’re done with the report can we go?’ She looks over at Pratt, between stripper comments and family bickering, she’d rather be elsewhere.

“I don’t know I’m having fun,” he says pressing a hand to his mouth, nearly out of breath from laughing.

“You left the keys in the car and I will leave your ass out here.”

“Well, we’ll be going now.”

“Oh, you’re already leaving,” Junior as his dad called him, starts to say, looking directly at her chest and the meager amount of cleavage she’s showing. Her fingers wrap around her taser.

“You can’t tase him for that.”

“Bullshit,” she grumbles as she yanks open the car door. 

Dahlia plops down into the passenger side with a heavy sigh, disgusted by the interaction. Why would anyone ever look at her sexually? She doesn’t like that; she has the sex appeal of a twig and she likes it that way. It’s ridiculous. She hears Pratt start snickering again as she starts to button up her uniform shirt, even when she glares, he just keeps laughing, each cackle earning a strong “Fuck off,” from her. 

“You should let me drive,” Dahlia says after boring hours of traffic stops pass by, landing themselves back in the valley.

“What?”

“If you’re not going to let me hand out tickets, at least let me drive so I don’t go crazy from boredom.”

“You need to find a hobby or something, you’re bored every second.”

“I’d be less bored if you let me drive.”

“I’ve seen how you ride your motorcycle.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“How you haven’t been pulled over, you drive like a maniac.”

“I don’t go that fast and I’m smart about it.”

“You aren’t smart about anything.”

“I’m smart about noticing the people trying to steal copper from the railyard,” she comments as she spots three men grabbing copper in broad daylight to shove in duffle bags so they can sell it.

“God damn it,” Pratt grumbles and flashes on the sirens, she grabs the spare set of cuffs, they skid to a stop in the railyard.. The three men scramble to escape, but Pratt and Hale are already out of the patrol car and nearly on top of them.

Dahlia manages to grab the back of two of their shirts, pulling them back towards her before they can get to the woods. Judging by the groan, Pratt nabbed the other guy.

“You’re under arrest for trespassing and theft, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to an attorney if you do not have one will be appointed to you, do you understand?”  She reads them their rights as she quickly manages to slap handcuffs on them both before either can run away.

When she turns to get a good look at their face, she recognizes them. Two young boys she’s seen around the trailer park, probably around her age, from what she’s seen they still live with their parents and seem to have no plans of working or going to school.

“Aren’t you kinda old to be helping kids steal shit, Boshaw?” Pratt asks as she’s putting the two younger boys into the back of the car. They’ll be a little jammed in, but not her problem.

“C’mon man, this shit is just left out here, no one does nothing with it,” he grumbles, she recognizes him as the guy from the trailer park who technically doesn’t live there, Sharky, at least she thinks that’s his name. 

“Doesn’t mean you can just take it, dumbass,” she says, rolling her eyes. He can’t be this dumb. It’s not like any of them are going hungry or don’t have the necessities.

“Who the hell are you?”

“The deputy currently arresting you.”

“Junior Deputy,” Pratt corrects in his never-ending quest to be an asshole.

“Junior deputy, like the cop crap they tried to make us do in high school?”  Sharky says, raising an eyebrow at Dahlia. 

“I’m twenty.” 

“Jesus, I thought I was dumb, shouldn’t you have graduated by now?”

“Get in the car, now”

They put the cuffed Sharky in the backseat of the cruiser along with his two partners in literal crime. Dahlia wonders for a moment if this will make things worse in the trailer park, they’re already not fantastic. But things haven’t gotten worse after that initial night, a beer can being thrown at her head is still the worst thing to happen. No one is friendly with her, but nothing has escalated. A part of her worries if arresting three trailer park residents, well two residents and one trailer park adjacent will make things escalate. Though, Boshaw didn’t seem to even recognize her. So, she’ll take that as her saving grace. 

There’s a large jail in the Hebane river area but she’s learned quickly that it’s no longer functional. Offenders now held in the small collection of cells in the back of the station and if the crime is bad enough, they’re shipped off out of county to the nearest big city prison. Apparently, there just wasn’t enough criminals getting caught to justify the cost of maintenance for the huge building. 

They pull into the station parking lot, dragging the three offenders out from the back of the cruiser. They start the booking process, filing the paperwork as the three stooges sit handcuffed on a bench.  She catches them making faces a few times before they’re being taken back to the cells. 

“You son of a bitch!”  A sharp gruff yell comes barreling through the front of the station. The sheriff holding back a man’s cuffed hands as he twists and tries to evade him. It’s an older man, maybe older than Whitehorse, with a bald head and glasses. 

“Screaming at me won’t help you, Dutch.” 

“Fuck off, I didn’t do nothing wrong.”

“You can’t trespass.”

“Those peggies have trespassed and taken everything from us, yet I don’t see any of them here.”

“We literally had two Eden’s Gate members here, yesterday,” Dahlia answers with a roll of her eyes. Some people try to act like things are unfair just because they’ve been caught. She’s not ignorant to flaws or failures in the law, police brutality against black people, profiling, and the like. But this isn’t that type of situation. A peggie breaks the law, they get arrested, a non-peggie breaks the law, they get arrested. Plain and simple. 

“Who the fuck asked you!?” 

“Enough,” Whitehorse says as he makes his way towards where Dahlia is, voice lowering so the man can’t hear him, “it’s not worth the fight, Rook.”

She rolls her eyes; nothing is ever worth the fight it seems. First it was that Lonny guy and now this guy. Maybe she’s too quick to argue, but that’s the reason she wanted to be a cop. Fighting for justice and all that, doing what’s right and not letting people push her around. When the hell is, she going to find a fight that’s worth it?

The older man, Dutch, gets settled away in his jail. Whitehorse walking back from the cells once he’s secured it. 

“That guy had an attitude problem,” Dahlia grumbles. 

“That’s Dutch, one of our prepper doomsday guys, anti-government, anti-law, he’s a regular at this point.” 

“He doesn’t think very highly of Eden’s Gate.” 

“Not many do,” Pratt tells her. 

“Dutch is the kind to assume the worst of, well, anyone. You’d be smart to avoid him, Rook.” A warm hand on her head, ruffling her hair punctuates that sentence. 

The day drags on calmly and boringly after that, the end of the shift once again ending with Hudson and Pratt going to the Spread Eagle. And she goes home alone to her empty trailer...to eat dinner from a tupperware container. 

And the next day isn’t much different; a report filled out for some petty theft from the Golden Valley Gas Station, more patrol of her begging Pratt to just let her drive, let her write a ticket, anything. By noon she was just adjusting her seat up and down to keep herself moderately entertained. Pratt was far from amused, but he only has himself to blame. And that evening, Pratt and Hudson go to the Spread Eagle to relax after work. She goes home alone, trying to ignore the melancholic ache when her footsteps echo in the empty trailer; the only sound that greets her. 

Thursday, nearly the end of the work week, she gets a break in the form of cows busting through the fences of the Davenport farm.  Sun high in the sky, she and Pratt led them back home, with her patching the fence once all was taken care of. A cow licked her, and Pratt stepped in shit, the ideal day. Then the end of the day rolls around and she finds herself watching the two older deputies leave for drinks again. 

She’d be lying if she said the end of each workday doesn’t leave her a little melancholy. Watching Pratt and Hudson go hang out, while she makes the trip back to her sparsely decorated trailer surrounded by people who hate her. 

Asking to come along would be pointless. She’s not old enough to drink and wouldn’t want to make anyone feel awkward about it, or at least would feel awkward herself. It’s just one of those things where trying to be included would make it that much more apparent how she doesn’t fit in. 

 It’s not Pratt or Hudson’s job to include her, to make her feel better. She can’t be upset with them because she feels out of place no matter where she goes. 

And when the end of Friday comes along and she’s watching them go off to have fun without her, the way longtime friends only can. She reminds herself of the planned trip to the F.A.N.G Center, holding out hope that it will be a positive step to feeling a little less like a fish out of water.

Dahlia has survived her first week of work;. she hasn’t been fired and she hasn’t been maimed at this point. There’s a long way to go in terms of, well, everything. But she has yet to fail spectacularly. Small blessings, she supposes. 

The sun is out bright and shining Saturday, and she wonders if her good mood shows on her face. She’s waiting a distance from the trailer park entrance, not wanting him to have to deal with the residents who may not be a big fan of cops. Which is all of them from the looks of it. Dirty looks thrown her way only increasing since the railyard arrest, one of the younger boy’s mom muttering something that rhymes with witch, when Dahlia walked past. 

She takes a deep inhale of fresh air, feeling the early day sun warming her skin where her tank top doesn’t cover. A breeze blowing by through the field of white blossoms, the faint scent tickling her nose. The young deputy only knows a bit about the F.A.N.G Center it’s like a mixture of a zoo and an animal sanctuary; with a super domesticated bear as their mascot. She has three goals going into today; become better friends with her fellow deputies, not make an idiot of herself in front of Hudson, and pet a bear. 

A small black car comes pulling up; it seems as if trucks are much more common in Hope County, Pratt is driving, and Hudson is in the passenger seat. Bugs are crawling in her stomach, butterflies or whatever, just at seeing Hudson through the windshield; her hair is out of its usual braid, long dark hair brushing just above her chest. Getting worked up over seeing loose hair, what is wrong with her? Hudson is just a person, an unbelievably attractive and seemingly really cool person, but a person. The car comes to a stop as Dahlia berates herself internally.

Dahlia stretches her arms out, listening to the pop of her joints before she pulls open the backseat door behind Hudson; her desire for leg room outweighs her desire to have a better view of the older deputy. Besides, knowing her luck she’d have a heart attack at the sight.

“Joey,” Pratt says, looking at Hudson, “switch seats with Rook.”

The sound of him using Hudson’s first name just sounds strange to Dahlia’s ears, but she supposes they’re close while she’s still just the rookie.

“And why would I do that?” There’s a hint of mischief in Hudson’s voice as she asks and Dahlia catches her cheeky smile in the rearview mirror, heat pricking up under her skin at the sight.

“Because…,” Pratt chews on his lip, stumped to find one, “shut up.”

“I’m fine in the backseat,” Dahlia says, shrugging, she’s not so immature that she’d fight over who rides shotgun. Okay, maybe if it was Pratt or Chase, she’d be that immature. But, not with Hudson.

One issue with getting closer to her coworkers that becomes glaringly obvious during the drive is that developing friendships requires talking. Dahlia isn’t great, good, or even okay at talking. She has the verbal skills of a cavewoman raised by wolves. Everytime she strings together a complete sentence, she’s impressed. Bonus points if it actually makes sense. 

As Pratt drives them through the area, idly chatting with Hudson as the radio plays, she finds herself constantly wanting to talk. But it never happens. The words constantly stuck in her throat, bubbling beneath the surface, but never escaping her mouth. It always feels wrong. The subject changes before she has a chance to chime in, the conversation about things and places she knows nothing about, and each time Hudson so much as glances her way it feels like her entire body is shutting down. 

She ends up just settling back into her seat, gazing out the window as the scenery passes by. Maybe it will be easier at the F.A.N.G Center, animals and stimuli all around; things they can all talk about. 

That hope shifts into dread when she sees the busy parking lot outside of the center. Families carrying around kids into the small zoo. She doesn’t hate crowds, per say. She’s been to dance clubs and stuff; traveling up to the bigger city in Louisiana to dance and blow off steam. But, she doesn’t like certain crowds. There's a difference when music is pumping into the room; a different energy to everything. But, maybe it won’t be that bad.  It's realistically probably not that many people, the place isn’t a huge zoo, so it likely looks more packed than it actually is. Maybe it won’t be as bad inside. 

Pratt finds a parking spot, relatively far out, unable to get anything closer. Dahlia steps out of his car, kicking up dirt as the two other deputies get out. She gets the best look at Hudson she’s gotten since the day started. Hudson’s hair is out of it’s usual plait, blowing around in the breeze. The pale yellow of her top contrasts beautifully against her dark skin; the tank top also allows Dahlia to get a better look at Hudson’s tattoo. As she suspected an eagle design with the American flag that makes Dahlia suspect some sort of military background in at least Hudson’s family. 

“Come on.” Pratt slaps a friendly hand on Dahlia’s back, making her jump, how long has she been staring at Hudson? Oh god, she’s already made an idiot out of herself. She lets him usher her a bit towards the entrance, trailing after the pair of older deputies after a second. 

“There’s a lot of people,” she comments when they step into a long line, filled predominantly with families and kids. 

“Yeah, there’s not much to do in the county, so this is where almost everyone goes.”

“Options around here are basically; drinking, hunting, fishing, the F.A.N.G center and the arcade.” 

“I saw stuff about uhhh, god, Clutch something? Looks fun…”” Little memorial spots for some stunt guy who’s from Hope County. Maybe she’ll take her motorcycle through one of the little stunts. Some seem fine, probably avoid the planes and she thinks there's one where the guy just set himself on fire and called it a stunt. She’s reckless, but even that seems dumb and also she can’t fly. 

“I don’t even know why they still have that shit up; no one is dumb enough to try that crap,” Hudson says, rolling her eyes. 

“Its an old daredevil guy; someone thought it’d be a smart idea to mark his stunts for other people to try, all its done is lead to lots of drunk idiots crashing and getting themselves hurt.” 

“Yeah...dumb.” Dahlia shoves her hands in her pockets, staring at her feet, now she looks stupid. So, that’s fun. 

“Huha, you smell...like a cheeseburger!” A loud goofy voice comes from the giant waving version of their famous bear; a statue perched high in the air that greets you when you come in. That’s a voice that will...get old quickly. 

They get inside and Dahlia immediately realizes that no, it does feel just as packed inside as it does outside. In fact, it feels worse. The small zoo, sort of animal sanctuary, is largely composed of it’s animal enclosures. Wolves, cougars, bears an eagle sanctuary, and she sees some skunk and wolverine enclosures. This leaves less area for the visitors to wander around and given how many people are here; that’s not pleasant. 

People move, bump, and shuffle around; someone nearly sending Dahlia directly into Pratt’s back. Kids shriek and yell, excitedly running to look at each and every animal, not caring when they slam against someone on their way through. The heat of the day isn’t bad, but when packed in with every family in the county it feels unbearable, people brush past her and she feels their body heat. 

“Everyones crowding around Cheeseburger; wanna go see the other bears?” Pratt offers, looking back at Dahlia for confirmation. 

“Yeah, sounds good.” Maybe that means it will be a little less packed over there. They shuffle through the area, some kid running by and smearing sticky cotton candy fingers over her jeans. She keeps hearing the annoying cartoon voice; both from the overhead statue and people packing around little bobbleheads that say the same lines over and over again. 

She’s not a germaphobe, she’s not claustrophobic, she doesn’t have misophonia, or any of those things; at least she’s never considered herself any of those things. But she doesn’t like this. It’s too much. When she’s gone places to dance; it’s one overwhelming stimulus. The music is so loud it overwhelms everything else. The closeness to people not bothering her because she’s preoccupied with the energy of it all. This...is clumsy, gross. Instead of one overwhelming stimulus it’s several stimuli all clashing about and banging together. Instead of losing herself in fun and feeling a part of something; she feels awkward, clunky, out of place. Happy families, messy children, the two older deputies talking breezily as they weave through it all; occasionally stopped by someone who knows them. 

“Oh Joey, I haven’t seen you in so long-”

“Hey, Pratt, how have you been?” 

And Dahlia stands, pressing herself as close to the nearest wall as she can, so people can push past her with the littlest chance of touching her. She curses under her breath when a kid steps on her toe and their mother glares at her. Everyone in this county seems to glare at her, it seems like. Her toes and head are throbbing when she hears the statue tell people they smell like a cheeseburger for the billionth time. 

The bears are beautiful; two large black bears playing within their pen. Both having been injured in some way, one has it’s leg bandaged, and in the process of rehabilitation. But Dahlia can’t see much more of the bears, before someone shoves past her to get a better look, immediately blocking her view. 

She shouldn’t be here, she doesn’t belong here, she wants to leave, but she doesn’t want to be a buzzkill since neither Hudson or Pratt seem to mind any of this. But her head hurts, her toe hurts, everything is too much and it’s getting hard to breathe. 

“After we grab something to eat, I wanna look at the eagles,” Hudson says, and Dahlia sees her chance. 

“I’m gonna smoke real quick, I’ll be right behind ya,” Dahlia tells them with a wave before she makes a beeline towards the exit. She nearly barrels through a few people as she moves, her throat getting tighter and tighter with every step; heart pounding to escape her ribcage.  She needs out, she needs to get away. 

She breaks through the crowd and into the parking lot; jogging past the people just pulling into the parking lot. Dahlia finds herself in the woods around the center, far enough out that she can no longer hear that insipid statue and she sits down in the grass. She curls up for a moment, knees to her chest as she takes some deep breaths. Slowly feeling her body start to calm down; her heart rate slowing and each breath coming a little easier. It’s been a while since she had a moment like that; though last time it was much worse, and she understood why it happened. This time the cause is a little less certain. 

Maybe it was too much going on, maybe it was stares and odd looks, maybe she put too much emphasis and pressure on this day going well. Maybe she’s just a mess. 

She scrambles her brain to make sense of it; she vaguely remembers a school trip to an amusement park that didn’t go well. But, she’s not sure if that’s enough to warrant this kind of reaction. Hell, if she had this strong a reaction to something that ended badly for her; she wouldn’t be functional. 

The young deputy stands to her feet, lighting a cigarette and letting the nicotine flood her lungs, easing her nerves for a moment before she breathes the smoke back out into the air. She has no intentions of heading back to the center. All that’d happen is her having another freakout, maybe she can revisit the F.A.N.G Center during a weekday after work when it’d be less crowded or once she’s on permanently take a day off for it. 

She doesn’t imagine it matters much; she’s an adult and if she wants to leave she can. But, she doesn’t want Pratt or Hudson looking all over for her when they’re getting ready to leave. During the week, she had managed to exchange numbers with Hudson and Pratt. The exchange with Hudson involved her flushing red and nearly having an aneurysm, but it occured. She sends Pratt a quick text

i left sorry

Hopefully, he won’t be too aggravated with her and Hudson won’t think she’s a total loser. Dahlia slips in earbuds; time to find out how to get home. She heads south, she’ll head that way, then go through the valley. It shouldn’t take more than a couple...hours...she’ll be home by morning...at least.

She weaves and walks through the woods, following along the side of the road as much as she can. Large wooden homes occasionally spring up, residents in their yards talking with friends. Trucks and car passing by on the road. 

A restaurant called The Grill Steak with a brightly lit sign catches her eye as she walks past, family at picnic tables eating burgers and laughing. The smell of the cooking deer and bison making her stomach growl; if she did not have such a long walk home, she would stop to eat. 

She’s tip toeing her way around shallow divots of water, jumping over stumps and fallen trees; crushing grass and plants beneath her feet as she goes. Elks and deer occasionally catching her eye as they wander through; darting away when they see her.  Little pronghorns snorting somewhere in the distance. 

Dahlia isn’t sure where she is, as the moon starts to shine bright and luminescent in the sky. But she’s following along the side of a road and will eventually see something that she recognizes, probably. The activity of the day has seemed to die down, no longer a steady thrum of people and animals milling about as she moves. All of Hope County must be asleep it seems, no cars are even coming down the road. The moon and stars the only light to guide her; music from her phone the only sound to comfort her. 

I’ve been ghosting...I’ve been ghosting along….

Her eyes scan the night scan; taking in the bright pinpricks of light that break through the black void, trying to find Andromeda.  She’s scared for a moment that she’s lost the pattern; unable to track it down and decipher it from every other star. Then she finds it, she believes she has at least;  the collection of stars meant to show the woman chained in place, sacrificed by her own mother. 

Ghost in the world...Ghost with no home…

Bright headlights flash up, a car coming over the hill behind her, light pollution drowning out the stars; followed by sharp honking of the horn. The car; a familiar small black vehicle pulls off to the side of the road, just near her. She turns off the music on her phone, eye widening at the amount of notifications that came in while she was walking. Around eight missed calls between Pratt and Hudson. Text after text from Pratt; a few from Hudson. He’s the majority of the calls as well. Is something wrong?

Pratt swings the driver side door open, slamming it shut as he climbs out. She can practically see the car shaking from the force of it. The passenger side window rolls down; Hudson popping her face out. 

“What the fuck, Rookie!” She yells out. 

“Hi…?” 

“Hi, what the fuck?!” Pratt’s face is tense, his eyes angry as he storms towards her.

“What?” 

“What, what? You just vanished!”

“I texted you.” 

“Barely and then what, you threw your phone in the god damn lake?” 

“I have my ringtone and message crap turned off.” 

“Why?!”

“I don’t like when it rings.”

“Do, do you even know where you are right now?!” 

“...Montana…” 

“Get in the car.” 

He grabs her up by the back of the shirt; dragging her towards the car. She lets him; as much as she wants to wrestle herself away if only to prove a point, her feet hurt and she wouldn’t mind a car ride. She slides into the backseat, Pratt taking his place behind the wheel and Hudson looks back at her. The intensity of the green gaze, or perhaps just the person it’s coming from, makes Dahlia shrink back against the leather. 

“Not cool, Rook.” 

“I...don’t see the big deal…” Dahlia grumbles under her breath, feeling like a child scolded on a family trip. 

“The big deal is you, you had no way to get home, no idea w-where you were going, and god knows what could have happened to you!?” Pratt is stuttering and stumbling over his words, as he rushes to yell at her. 

“I don’t get why you’re so angry, I’m a grown adult, if I wanna leave I can leave.”

“It would, would have taken you five minutes to just find us and we could have all left.” 

“I didn’t wanna ruin everyone else’s fun.” 

“Well, you did.” 

Dahlia sighs and flops back against the seat; tension leaving her as her heart sinks. The one thing she didn’t want to do. What was she supposed to do? She ruined their day this way, she would have ruined it by demanding they take her home. Was she supposed to sit and suffer? Maybe just be normal and not freak out, but that’s kind of a lost cause at this point, isn’t it? 

“Pratt was scared,” Hudson tells her, making eye contact through the rearview window, as the car starts up. 

“Shut up,” Pratt tells her. 

“Why would he be scared?”

“Yeah, Pratt, why would you be scared?” 

“Everybody is shutting up, now.” 

“…,” Dahlia pouts, chewing on her lip, before looking towards Hudson, “did you get to see the eagles?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good…” The younger deputy darts her eyes out towards the window, cheeks puffing out and staining red; why does Hudson do this to her? 

The car ride back is awkward, to say the least. Music drifting through the radio is the only sound to disrupt the silence. Dahlia stares out the window and fiddles with the hem of her shirt; wanting to sink into the seat. 

Each second drags on agonizingly long, each moment filled with fidgeting and shame, wishing more than anything she hadn’t asked to do this. 

Before she decides to fling herself out of the car, they manage to make it back to just outside of the trailer park. The moment the car comes to a stop she’s wrenching the door open and climbing out. 

“Wait a second, I’ll walk you to your trailer,” Pratt offers and the idea of spending anymore time with someone who kinda wants to strangle her at the moment. 

“I’m good, see ya, Monday.” 

“Just-“ 

She’s gone, out of earshot before Pratt finishes his sentence; nearly tripping over herself to avoid the awkward situation. Why he’d want to walk her to her trailer is beyond her, maybe he just wanted more chances to be angry, who knows…. She just wants to go to sleep and forget this day happened, she kicks up some dirt and head hanging low, she makes her way through the trailer park. 

“Deputy…been waiting for you.” 

[daesungindistress]

just here to say i appreciate your blog & rational approach to everything. i think it's pretty shitty you can't post your own content & opinions on your own blog without being attacked. someone posted earlier about you not knowing the people & situation personally (which goes for the asker, too). i find that ironic since the only thing we all do know for sure, the only thing actually said to the press by any member, is SR announcing his retirement, and that's the thing ot5ers refuse to believe

It’s the simplest thing, really. No matter what you think about his case, no matter what you believe about his guilt or lack of it, no matter how you feel about him or what you want for him or what you wish had happened, one irrefutable fact remains: he quit. He said “fuck it” and forfeited his singing career to focus on saving himself. And this sustained fight for him from that one fractious segment of the fandom? Simply put, so much time and energy and emotion wasted on a retired guy.

I suppose you could say the same about what I’ve been up to here the last few months… but I didn’t do it for him. I did it for the others who are still with us. I’ve done what I could to dissociate him from the remaining members in an effort to shield them from the fallout of his ruined reputation – because it’s as that one anon pointed out, yes, association is the problem. Look what happened to Daesung: Seungri’s prostitution charges have created a climate where it’s all too easy to plant the idea that the other members were involved in similar dealings. The best thing anyone can give them right now is distance. And that’s what I’ve tried to do.

I’ve provided evidence of how he’d pulled away from them in recent years, leading to the conclusion that they were not as close as we believed… and how they in turn were distancing themselves from him (e.g., the four-member group chat they wouldn’t let him join). I’ve given attention to screenshots and video clips and interviews suggesting that they saw his eventual departure coming from miles away and have had time to prepare for it. I’ve shared comments they’ve made implying that they knew they would lose him one day for one reason or another. That though they were technically five, they had come to feel like four.

What I’ve done here has not been for the sole purpose of hating on Seungri as some seem to think, but to give fans who aren’t ready for this all to be over hope that his exit doesn’t have to mean the end of everything. To reassure that Big Bang as it exists now will likely be okay without him. And I don’t know about you all, but I’ve seen enough to feel comfortable about the coming days, months, etc. The key lies in learning to let go.

He’s gone. Now let’s make the best of what/who we have left and move on.

[icharchivist]

i know i say it with ways too many seiyuu but boy im followed by Tetsuya Kakihara at this point and even more noticeably as gacha goes wtf.

i used to crush on Prompto, and that's when i first heard him. fair enough right?

then i get into a stupid Otome gacha game. one of my first card? a chara he plays. currently is the one chara i have the most cards of. which i originally didnt know bc i played the first few months of the game with the English dub, only to realize later how to switch to Japanese and have a moment of "wtf". (ironically two of the other love interests are played by the VAs of Lancelot and Drang in gbf and oh b o y man. like tf is that. also since then Onoyuu (Lancelot seiyuu) has ruined my life send help)

I start A3 then with major fears since "hmm that Azuma guy seems my type", in my first pull? i get an Azuma R. turns out? it's same VA. as far as A3 goes i end up with so many Azuma in pulls this is ridiculous, once i got 4 of his SR in two pulls. i got his SR like 10 times by now. this is ridiculous. anyway he's one of my fav of that game still.

and now GBF. one of my early SR was Elmott.

fire cat dude who already looked hard like My Type. Feral vibes and all. didnt pay attention to him tho bc i have better charas.

i clicked on his FE by accident and started playing through it.

and he has a very rough and rude voice that was in itself not something I've heard a lot.

except for the way he was breathing out some words.

exactly in the same way as does Azuma. or all the others chara im mentioning.

anyway yeah i checked up and. yup. same VA.

he has a very distinct and different voice from the other three there but i recognized him /by his way to breathe/.

fucking wild bro.

Like Kikihara has a very breathy voice, which makes him more seductive in otome game/as Azuma, and i thought it was his seductive voice bc i didnt recall it being that pronounced with Prompto, but i def hear it with Elmott and thats def not the plan to make him seductive.

so im totally floored.

anyway turns out too Elmott is a bit of a Tsun so he does fit my type despite not fitting what i usually associate to his voice.

and, as i played his FE i noticed

i... have another SR of his. i have 2 out of his 3 versions.

not only Tetsuya Kikihara follows me around from game to game but it looks like that when gacha are concerned he somewhat always come home to me before I'm even prepared for that.

and that's wild.

so yeah GBF always makes me experience whiplash with the VA but this is a whole new level smh.

[nikky-the-writer]

You look guilty

Bucky x Reader

Modern!AU for 3K celebration

Requested: prompts :- “This is fun.”  “Seriously, we’re trying to hide a body.”

- “ I actually turned out liking you a lot more than I originally planned“

- “Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English “

A/N: Thank you for the request!!!!

Warning: cursing and obviously a dead body! fluff

______________________________________________________________

It was supposed to be a normal day and not only normal but a good day as well. Everything worked great for you since the second you woke up, as nothing disturbed your sleep, for the first time in months you woke up on your own. And it only got better as there was still warm waffles when you joined the table for breakfast and the best thing was that Bucky was nowhere around, because honestly, he was a pain in your ass. He was a new guy in the tower and you were assigned to him as you mostly train people and weren’t still ready to go back to the field after the last incident considering your powers.

You didn’t really even know him; the problem was actually Steve because months before Bucky even came Steve would constantly talk about him. It was getting on your nerves as you and Steve were used to be good friends and now all the time you spent together he would talk about his other friend and it pissed you off. So it would be right to say that you were jealous, but you had every right to be as now because of Steve you even knew the size of Bucky’s shoes, like if that was ever going to be helpful. Just like all the other info about him, you knew everything and in reality, you only talked to him two times. And when you say talk it was more you saying one sentence and him replying. All of that made you feel jealous and as if you were a stalker and that was mostly why you avoided him, until now as all of those good, sweet even amazing things which happened today were there just to make the following event more dramatic. You were even stupid actually believing that your day could ever be good, it could be alright, but good that should’ve alarmed you. Now with fear covering your face, you stared at your doom. It wasn’t on purpose, you never meant to do it, but now you were almost ready to start crying. It just hit you at that moment that you could be easily replaced; it hit you that if you did something wrong you could be even locked up. It wasn’t the mess making you uneasy, but the lack of control and as you stared at the destroyed Iron man suit you didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t even one of Tony’s favorite but it was one that should survive any kind of an explosion and seeing all those pieces you realized that you could kill someone innocent unintentionally. You let your body fall to the ground as you picked one of the small pieces. They formed only a pile of trash as nothing could be used; they were just a waste of space with no purpose just as you with no control over the power you possessed. “Are you just going to stare at that?” “What?” you questioned as your head snapped towards the doors. “So you avoid me to stare at trash?” Bucky asked confused and as he was still further away he failed to notice tears staining your face. “I…” “Sorry, I didn’t me…Why are you crying?” he asked as he came closer sitting beside you, but giving you enough room to move away if you wanted. “It’s nothing, don’t worry,” you just shrugged him off before turning your gaze back to the metal pieces. “It must be something if you are crying. Is it because of the suit? Stark won’t be mad, you are his favorite after the spider boy.” Bucky tried to cheer you up but he didn’t know how to do it. He wanted to get to know you, but it seemed to him that you didn’t want that and that was why he stayed away. He only knew what Steve told him about you and it was a lot, but still,  he didn’t know you personally and he didn’t want to overstep or came off as a stalker. “They will lock me up,” you whispered under your breath still blankly staring. “What are you saying?” “I killed people,” you admitted after a silent sob escaped your lips. “We all have,” Bucky assured you as that was a well-known fact. They did what they had to do and everybody had a past. “No, I didn’t kill because it had to be done. I lost control on our mission and I killed more than twenty people. I was lucky that all of them were our enemy, if they were casualties I would already be locked up somewhere below the ground.” “Steve wouldn’t let that happen,” he tried to assure you, but you didn’t believe him not even sparing him a glance. “It’s not his decision and now when they see what I did to this, I’m done here,” you let your shoulders drop just in time to see Bucky walking to the other end of the room.     “No, you are not,” he said over his shoulder while looking for something. “Why are you helping me?” you questioned as you stared at Bucky who was throwing pieces of the suit into the empty backpack. “Because I understand.” “It’s not the same,” you retorted knowing what he was referring to. “I know,” he said and soon after he led you to the elevator. After a slightly longer drive you were finally released in what looked like an abandoned room. It was the room to which only Bucky could enter and it was high up in the Tower. It had a bed in the corner which was unmade and a few things were scattered around. There was a lot of devices in one corner which seemed broken and you assumed that this was the place where Tony used to put his abandoned work. “So here is where you disappear?” you finally asked while Bucky placed the backpack in the corner with other things. “Mostly during the night when I can’t sleep.” You could understand why he would come here although it was so far away from everyone. When he was locked away there were no city lights or the mere life so this was what he was missing. “Warm milk,” you said breaking the short silence. “What?” “It can help you sleep or tea,” you suggested as that usually help you to sleep. “I will have to try that,” he said failing to hide a smile.   “You can always come to me if you can’t sleep,” you offered before you were able to stop yourself as you two weren’t actually friends. “And what would we do?” “We can talk, watch movies, read books, and do each other makeup, anything you want even coming here and staring at the lights.” “You’ve been avoiding me this whole time and now you are offering me to hang out?” he was suspicious and didn’t want for that offer to be made if you were only feeling like you owed him. “This is fun,” you stated while gesturing around you. “Seriously, we’re trying to hide a body,”  Bucky said faking sternness and you snorted. “Well, alright nothing could top this, but we could still have fun.” “Yeah, we could and now we have to get back down,” he said pouting as they had to attend a meeting soon. “Yes, sir,” you said saluting him before heading to the elevator. “Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English,” he yelled after you making you stop in your step. You turned around with your eyebrow raised and just staring at him for a moment before speaking. “You do know that everyone knows who we are?” “I was just joking,” he said walking past you and purposely bumping into your shoulder. “No way, you know how to joke? I can’t believe this.” “I hate you.” “No, you don’t,” you said smiling at him as the elevator doors closed. “No, I don’t and I actually turned out liking you a lot more than I originally planned.”   “Nobody can resist me Barnes; you are now caught in my web,” you said teasingly while smirking at him. You were only hoping that your friendship will move further from this day on as he was actually great as Steve told you, but you only wished that while standing beside him you weren’t aware of what kind of underwear he wore, but thanks to Steve you knew that as well.

______________________________________________________________

A/N: Thank you for reading!! Ask me if you want me to add or remove you from the tag list!!  

There will from now on be only one tag list for all my Marvel fics with exceptions for characters who will have their own: Donald Pierce, Erik Killmonger, Axel Cluney....

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[emblem-333]

What-If Verne Gagne Made Hulk Hogan Champion?

The Era of The Territories died before I was born. There’s pros and cons to their execution. Up until Vince McMahon gobbled up the industry like Pac-Man devouring dots there were multiple regional territories with their own established stars. The Carolinas has Ric Flair. Tennessee has Jerry “The King” Lawler. Texas featured the Von Erichs. They would run their respective territories, sometimes wander beyond and do inter-promotional programs typically ending in disqualifications to save face. Back in those days, before television really changed the landscape, promoters could getaway with jerking around their fans with constant indecisive finishes. Chances are the people who paid the ticket price to see the action were the only ones who are ever going to see it.

Ever heard of “The Dusty Finish,” well get a load of what Verne Gagne of the American Wrestling Association put his customers through in the early eighties. Gift wrapped Hulk Hogan after Vince Sr canned the star for appearing in the film “Rocky III” Verne took the young Hogan under his wing teaching him almost all of what would make him the monolith he’d become. Gagne told Hogan to not drop down after one drop kick. Telling him it should take three or more to take him off his legs. Gagne molded Hogan into a monster in the ring. Initially, Hulk was supposed to be a featured heel like during his days in the WWF. But his charisma compounded by his cameo in “Rocky III” endeared him to fans of the Minneapolis based wrestling promotion. And in a few short months Hogan found himself in the title picture feuding with the long toothed, well read heel Nick Bockwinkel.

Bockwinkel had entered his fifties earlier in the 1980s, but you couldn’t have guessed his age if you only watched him in the ring. He always kept himself in tip-top shape, didn’t party all night like Ric Flair. He was a clean cut, midwestern man who Verne still entrusted to safeguard his companies most prized possession even late into his career. Bockwinkel before Hogan and after had great matches I highly recommend you check out. Preferably his one-hour marathon against a young, babyface, Curt Hennig. Yeah. Mr. Perfect was once in the AWA. So was “Mean Gene” Okerlund. Bobby “The Brain” Heenan. Scott Hall. Wendi Richter. Jesse Venture. All would become heavily featured players in the WWF/WCW when NWA fizzled.

Though Hogan was the star, and his current champ Bockwinkel was nearing fifty, Verne was hesitant - and later would outright say he didn’t see the 29-year-old as championship material or a prop he didn’t even need. Either Verne is lying or he poorly read the changing wrestling with the invention of television. The era of the babyface chasing the dastardly heel forever and ever was over. Promoters needed to shift towards more decisive finishes and book accordingly or face the same consequences Verne swallowed which squashed his once flourishing company. It’s quite the tragedy too. Verne knew his wrestling and could spot talent. Same could be said about Dusty Rhodes. At the end of the day what carries you over in a wrestling war isn’t talent, but business-savvy.

In his better days, McMahon knew sometimes it was better to go with what the fans wanted rather than persist with what he thought was right. He pulled the shoot on The Ultimate Warrior, ultimately giving way to the rise of Bret Hart, and Shawn Michaels. He later would do the same in the late-90s with “Stone Cold” Steve Austin. Neither were Vince’s cup of tea in what he perceived as championship material, but what mattered to him most was the all mighty dollar. But old Verne wasn’t as flexible and never really was. Come April 1983 he knew the long-standing Hogan/Bockwinkel had run its course and it was time to bestow the honor of champion to the younger star. Problem was, Verne couldn’t see beyond Hulk was a power wrestler, not too big on finesse and mat-style which was the makeup of the AWA. There’s also elements in this story that make Verne come off as a shitty, grubby businessman, and a downright creep. First, he demanded the bulk of Hogan’s merchandising sales (Hogan was printing his “Hulkamania” shirts and selling them outside of a trunk during House Shows) and his money he made wrestling for Japan; even though Verne had nothing to do with that promotion.

Actually, there might be some logic in Verne wanting a substantial cut in the money Hogan made overseas. See, he wrestled for a promotion called New Japan Pro-Wrestling. Verne had a partnership with a man named Shohei Baba — he would wrestle under the synonym “Giant Baba.” Baba worked as a promoter of All Japan Pro-Wrestling. The chief competitor of NJPW. Verne probably figured if he could squeeze Hogan for his NJPW paycheck he’d kick it to Giant Baba and subsequently AJPW and undercut the other promotion in the process.

The logic in Verne wanting the money though is nonexistent. Like McMahon when The Rock left the WWF to takeover Hollywood, he saw it fit to demand a chunk of his talent’s paycheck. Why? Because Vince McMahon made The Rock. Everyone knows that! Except he didn’t. The Rock made The Rock. In the wrestling world it doesn’t matter whether the boss acknowledged your existence before you made it big. All that mattered was he signed you to your deal and deserves the credit for those long hours you put in to climbing the ladder. Forget the fact that if it were up to Vince The Rock would have never turned heel, join The Nation of Domination and save his fledgling career.

I guess Verne can feel a little more secure in his belief he made Hogan into what he became. After all, he did instill the in-ring tactics that would carry him to superstardom. Regardless, the money Hogan made working NJPW was his, and it wasn’t like the AWA wasn’t doing gangbusters at House Shows and well in the black thanks to him.

The creepy aspect of this story was Verne was trying to set Hogan up with his daughter. Why? Well, he viewed the AWA as a family business and for whatever reason he didn’t trust his son, Greg, to succeed him so to keep the promotion in the family he wanted his champion to marry into it. You don’t believe me? In 1988 Larry Zbyszko marries Verne’s daughter. In February of ‘89 he wins the vacant AWA title in a Battle Royal.

It’s dysfunction like this is how you get an atmosphere like the one in the St. Paul Civic Center, the crowd absolutely becomes unglued as “Eye of the Tiger” roars through the speakers as the beach blonde haired heroine marches down the isle filled with purpose. He wears a black shirt that says “We Want The Belt” and on the back “Now Or Never.” You don’t get more prophetic than that last statement. Now or Never, Verne, and he chose Never. Hogan didn’t win the strap that night in St. Paul, and would soon leave the AWA. While the promotion enjoyed a few successful years before going defunct in 1991, you can trace their fall to “Super Clash” nine-years before.

So what-if Verne wasn’t a character out of a Leon Trotsky Socialist manifesto novel? What-if he just let Hogan keep his money and gave him the belt? Would the AWA still be around today? Hard to say, but I’m going to veer on the side of no. Hogan parading around with the AWA strap isn’t going to deter Vince from courting Hogan. We’re talking about the man who tried to convince Harley Race to no-show Starrcade ‘83 and take the NWA belt to his promotion.

One of the few ways Verne and the territories could have kept the bad wolf of New York from their doors was if they handed together to take him on. But nobody took the threat seriously until it was too late to sufficiently combat it. Another scenario is Ted Turner up and buys AWA with the NWA to form WCW. Having Turner on the wrestling scene against Vince was like Godzilla vs Mothra. WCW only started turning rotten when the Time Warner/AOL merger pushed Turner out of an influential role with the company. A more feasible scenario is Verne and Greg simply accept Vince’s offer he made at the St. Paul airport before turning around and exclaiming “I don’t negotiate”. But, if they did merge with the WWF the fate of the AWA is probably similar to Stu Hart and his Stampede Wrestling promotion. Their talent pool would be severely depleted and the promotion transforming from something that is on par — if not superior to the WWF to nothing more than a minor league farm system for New York to routinely pluck talent from.

If Hulk Hogan of all people suddenly become the most loyal person in the business and remained a stalwart of the AWA he arguably has a greater cast of heels to run through than he did in his first run as champion in the WWF. Stan Hansen, Leon White (A.K.A Vader), Larry Zbyszko, Curt Hennig, Jerry Lawler. While it’s highly questionable whether Hansen and Lawler would be willing to job to Hogan because of their value to other promotions, their feuds still print money at the gates and perhaps fans are just so happy to see Hogan as champion they don’t mind the constant string of D.Q finishes.

What does McMahon do? Rumor was his second choice was Paul Orndorff. A very good, if not great heel wrestler that is commonly forgotten due to the fact he jobbed to Hogan throughout the eighties. But Vince is more creative than that. He had to have an ace up his sleeve of Hogan alluded his grasps. Ric Flair? The Von Erichs? Maybe he pulls the trigger and makes Roddy Piper or Ricky Steamboat champion? Steamboat was only 31 by the time Iron Sheik beat Bob Backlund for the belt to set the table for Hogan. But Vince didn’t like skinny, short guys as his main champion. It’s why you see wrestlers like Daniel Bryan constantly marginalized despite showing time after time he can main event.

The AWA gave the wrestling world countless stars that would make this article too long if I were to list them all. But, like most promoters in the territory era, Verne had a limited grasp on how to maximize his profits and couldn’t see behind his own biases and greed.