#basically if the story was an anime

[blackkatdraws2]

The Main Character.

[Blank Scripts AU]

[starrysharks]

hotel manager

[yeyinde]

—and if that fails, he can always plan playdates for you with whatever dirty secret Johnny’s been keeping tucked away in the woods.

OH......... PLEASE feel free to elaborate on Johnny and his little secret in the woods 👁️👁️

haha it's kind of drawing on this a bit, but with a perspective shift from reader to Soap just to keep up with the theme of this weird little series. but basically: Johnny finds you hiking and all alone (and injured, too), and considers it his civic duty to help you (and help himself to a wife in the process).

and in many ways, i see him as being so much worse compared to Price or Ghost. devoted in that ugly, needy way. a very oily limerence. the one that crafts narratives from emptiness, from nothing, and sews them into reality. but you asked him for help. and he's reckless enough to see it through to the end (but that end is "until death do us part" so maybe you should have just called a park ranger instead. oops.).

[t0bey]

Happy you guys appreciate my periodic return to animal parade brainrot. Have another Luke bc he’s the funniest bachelor in the history of farming simulator games

[dazais-guardian-angel]

this torture we're going through with the anime must be divine karma for slandering Bones all this time...... they said "oh, you don't like how we adapt things? you say the manga does it better?? okay then, well now there is no more manga. it's Bones or bust, bitches."

[croakings]

i apologize for mithrunposting incessantly but honestly if any of you expected better of me you shouldn't have

anyway i get it and some of the failguy jokes are funny. i can tell that nothing i've run into is even malicious. but also it would be really cool and awesome if there were simply less posts calling a disabled person a failure or baby or a dog or whatever for needing accommodation or extra help, especially when like. hey did you know the source material very on purpose did not do anything remotely like that. critical thinking question: could there be some reasons these phrases are not great, potentially

[oifaaa]

I'm not gonna lie I've been pondering for the last 30 minutes or so on what a good animated Robin movie would look like and Im kinda coming up blank I'm even getting stumped on which Robin the movie would focus on and outside of that what story should be the main focus

[bumblebeebats]

Wow, Guillermo del Toro really said You know what my animated kid's musical needs? Catholicism. War. Death. Alcoholism. Fascism. Frankensteinian undertones. A haunting meditation on mortality and grief. Cate Blanchett making monkey noises. And he was so fucking right

[ganymedesclock]

To explain The Goblin Problem and not go on a tag rant on someone else's reblog, I will explain it in the nutshell.

The Goblin Problem is when a story establishes a group of creatures to serve as recurrent antagonists (not necessarily all one species; in a lot of rpg games this can broadly apply to "monsters") THAT:

Are never negotiable, or the negotiable parties among them are Token Heroic Orcs- that is to say, they are seen as objectors or 'good' versions who have absolutely no connections to, and hold no objections toward you attacking, the rest of their brethren, who they have forsaken as the price to be paid for being good.

Have obvious unique technology; they may attack you with weapons found nowhere else in the game, demonstrate the ability to speak, have their own obvious language, tame a creature that nobody else tames so that it's thus impossible that they are stealing already-tamed specimens from someone else

Are characterized primarily or exclusively as raiders who attack others, with the justification this means they are inferior creatures parasitically dependent on Good, Civilized Settings, e.g. they cannot possibly be sustainably hunting, gathering, or practicing either nomadic or settled agriculture.

Are often defined as having no choice to be evil or are created by a greater evil to serve as thralls, and yet, will not under any circumstances be regarded as indoctrinated victims, or if that is mentioned, there will nonetheless be an overarching lack of narrative concern as to where or how the survivors should live after the greater evil is taken care of, or if effort should be made to challenge the indoctrination and give them the ability to choose their lives.

What this ultimately creates is that they are unambiguously people, who obviously check all the marks of sapience, who are quite possibly wearing clothes, but the goblin or orc exists as a stopgap. You want your fantasy hero to get into a swordfight but you don't want him to kill another human being. So you invent something that wields a sword but is in some way "not a person", which is senseless. Unless you want the nature of this swordfight to be that a chimpanzee picked up a knife, at which point they are not going to use reliable sword techniques.

[tofixtheshadows]

Kabru: I haven't found out the Touden's motivation for being adventurers [because it's genuinely unique] and I suspect they may have ulterior motives that concern me. I want to find out more.

A shocking number of people, somehow: Kabru is actually so stupid and cruel for briefly misunderstanding these characters he's never met and there is Something About Him I just don't like, you can Tell By Looking At Him that he is evil and shady and also ableist, he just rubs me the wrong way

[lovecoredeity]

fun scene idea that I’ll probably never get around to drawing: someone grabbing a wanted poster from a board or wall only to reveal a missing persons poster featuring the same person as on the wanted poster underneath it (also the reward for them as a wanted person is higher than the reward for returning them when they were missing)

[littledigits]

directy directory ramble incoming

I wanted to type out my thoughts on the role of director and how its viewed. Especially coming from a perspective of seeing the streaming bubble pop and just..intense scope creep..and yeah , anyway. No reason specifically just my surface level musings that i always have. Its been 5+ years since I went from an animation supervisor to an animation director, to being able to do my own episodes. It wasnt something I wanted in the sense of a title, but I just like taking whatever the next step or challenge is. I've always been team oriented too, so that will always be in the back of my mind when being in a position with more power. The level of power you have as a director is not something I was expecting to have,so I try not to take it for granted.

Over time I really found that there are two viewpoints of what the job and the expectations of the director are. People have asked me for advice on the job and Its through these conversations that I really see the split opinion. The strongest camp is the one that represents the word least to me, and thats the people who think that the director is 'in charge' in the sense of always doing what they say. There are good and bad of course, but the directors job is to make the hard choices and to push boundaries and to enact a VISION (be it their own, a clients, ect). Their expectation soley revolves around the creation of the creative product. The other camp is the one that sees the Director as a leader first and foremost, who has a responsibility to their team as well as the product, and that leadership and team management skills should be on the roster as well as creative prowess. one thinks its about creative vision first and minimal people skills, and the other thinks it should be 50/50 at the very least. I'm in the second camp, and I have so many people that go 'YES, THAT IS WHAT A DIRECTOR SHOULD DO!' and as much as I agree, I also have to point out that is often not the actual reflected expectations that Directors get - expectations play a big role after all. When you enter a job or grow in a job you should know what your new responsibilities are, and if not you are left to fill in your own gaps. Studios in GENERAL are terrible with clear boundaries and job expectations, so its really no surprise that the stronger creative voices become the loudest in the room. Even the most well meaning people can get into an impossible mindset because no one has told them otherwise...we all know passion and creativity can take us places after all. Sometimes, one is thrust into a position of power without even knowing just how much their choices may impact the team. There are some notorious asshole directors of course but for the most part I've found that creatives in the director realm are well meaning. However, that doesnt change the reality that as well-meaning as you are, there is an entire team of people who can be effected by your mindest, choices and problem sovling for good or bad.

I've talked about this before, but a mindset can vastly change how you problem solve something. A director with no leadership skills may see work that does not meet their expectations and their first thought was that the artist did not do their job properly. A director with leadership skills may see work that does not meet their expectations and understand there are many factors. Heres a few questions I ask myself.

did that person receive proper expectations for the task ?

was there a communication mishap ? ( this happens ALL THE TIME. its ART !_! the amount of times i've written a note that i thought was super clear and someone takes it in a way that..i didnt expect but it also made sense ? SOMETIMES IT DO BE THAT WAY. WE WORK ON OUR COMMUNICATION SKILLS TOGETHER)

did they have enough time to do it ? or feel rushed?

is everything ok ? Everyone has bad times and blips in the production so its reasonable that sometimes things come in not 100%

if it is a hard skill issue, is it a one off or is it ongoing? how are we helping them work on it? The answers to these questions are FAR more valuable in actually getting your vision done to the best of your time and energy then just simply thinking someone doesnt have the skills or needs to learn more. ALL OF THIS TO SAY. That even just having good faith and a connection to your team as a director is incredibly valuable for your information gathering and problem solving, (you learn way more about your pipeline and where the real issues are.) but is vastly underrepresented as an expectation of the job. SO. IF YOU WANT TO DIRECT. you may not get told that your team is part of your responsibility, but if we want a sustainable and healthy industry we have to divide our passion for the project into our team as well as the creative end game. Take some leadership classes, learn about different communication types, or at least have people around you who can do that. You dont need to be everyones bestie, but you do have a responsibility for their experience on the project. ill post some tips and such about working with people later cuz this is long enough

[sangled]

I wanted to put this in an ask instead of burying it in the notes but i think the reason 'racism metaphor with different species' happens so often is because the anthropomorphization process turns the different species into animal versions of fantasy races. not different variations of the same species, nor completely separate species with separate (and possibly conflicting) niches, but a secret third thing that does both (and racism metaphors) worse

then again fantasy races don't have predator-prey dynamics as far as i know... or do they

also are there any solutions to this problem that you know?

hold on lemme make a chart

[tired-hellowl]

I think part of the reason why helluva boss makes me personally deeply uncomfortably with blitzø as a main character is in partial with the fact that it willingly always portays his alcoholism in positive conjunctions with his employees around him and is never called into question or blame.... like at what point is stolas going to get over some drunk imp bastard that doesn't even consider to ever care about him, when he shouldn't in the first place when the relationship is built upon a throne of literal lies acting like an imp and a royal being together is absolutely disgraceful and classist in one scene and then the next they're just teehee'ing in the field of flowery hell as if these dark themes aren't brought up so passively and never handled....

As a poor queer person who has actively been in the slums with alcoholics around me and consumed most of my past upbringing at some point I turn to just watch something else given that, Blitzø is a low life scummy stalkers imp that doesn't even bother to ever care about anyone else's reasoning or emotions-besides his own and it is proven over and over and over in every. Fucking. Scene. Because he's the 'main character'

Sober up and get over yourself the show isn't about anything else then Brandon Rogers voicing a dicksucking imp because 'haha laugh at the fairy-gay boy who can't even get his own boyfriend'

[carlyraejepsans]

I’ve started watching Utena because of you. What. Is going on

HI. WELCOME TO THE CLUB, watch the trigger warnings. but yeah, revolutionary girl utena veers more and more towards surrealism the further you get into the series. it often and voluntarily forfeits narrative/logical consistency in favor of visual storytelling, metaphors and symbolism. i was just talking about it with nic the other day, and if the story weren't so harrowing, i would recommend it to everyone who wants to get into literary analysis, because it is SO packed with symbolism EVERYWHERE that it actually encourages you to try to decode it.

whatever you think utena is about, it is NOT. you can't go in and treat it like your 49293th classical shoujo. utena is a firework show of visual symbolism and it very rarely, if ever, explains itself to the viewer. it refuses to handhold you, but it never berates you for trying and getting it wrong either. there is SO much handholding in modern day media, but utena trusts its viewer to take away something meaningful from itself and to piece its message together on their own. it's one of my favourite pieces of media of all time just for that

[entomolog-t]

The Shadow We Cast

Author Notes: Content warning, but the CWs make it sound far scarier than it is. Unless you struggle with any of the topics its fairly lighthearted. 

Another finished a G/t July Prompt; Bird! This takes place after Sal and Mark meet for the first time (Loosely based on this comic that I will inevitably redraw) acting as a sort of Chapter Two. The Title for their story is still up in the air and I am more than welcome to suggestion. 

Word Count: 3184

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

CW: Adult language, mild gore (blood, hunting, animal death), derealization/questioning sanity

---

The warmth in the air was uncomfortably muggy. I could feel myself break a sweat and I’d barely started my trek to the outskirts of the property. It reminded me of whenever he got too close. The way he radiated heat… the way he seemed to use up all the air around me, leaving the air feeling used and wet with his breath. Stretching my arms skyward I couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory of the strange human; The shared shock as we saw one another, the way he fumbled over himself to assure me he wasn’t a danger… and that hilarious scream he’d let out at the sight of my innocent little spider. I couldn’t wipe the smirk off my face. I’d never imagine I’d talk to a human, let alone spend the better part of an hour trying to get one to calm down!

The image of him, face flushed and sputtering had been comical. He’d been so embarrassed. Rightfully so. Why would a creature like him be scared of such a sweet little spider? Ridiculous. Picking up my pace, I began to jog towards the tree line, hoping those masked birds hadn’t yet found the berrying tree. Chewing on my lip, I found my mind being drawn back to the human. He’d called himself Mark. Once he’d calmed down he’d apologized up and down for his outburst. He was strange. I had sat down on his window sill as he asked question after question. What was I? Where had I come from? Why was I trying to get into his house?

His… Mark’s house had been empty for so long… was I not supposed to take my chance to see humans up close? There's something invigorating about even just being in the presence of people… When was the last time I’d even seen another being capable of conversation, let alone had a conversation? Sure, it's not like I planned on popping up directly in his line of sight, but … despite my better judgment, I found myself happy I did. I’d had my first conversation in years, and for some strange reason I was feeling as if it had left me bursting at the seams with renewed energy. Whether it was from the interaction or maybe from the strange food the colossal coward had given me… an Or-we-Oh? Was that what he’d called it? It didn’t really look like food… more like two disks made of soil with something unnaturally white between them. While it may have looked wrong, it had tasted far better than it looked.

My stomach growled at the memory. Whether it was the human food or the conversation, I’d made up my mind. I was going back. Though, not empty handed. These stupid tree-berries were always such a hassle to get. 

The trunk of the tree was thinner and smoother than what grew deeper in the woods making them profoundly annoying to climb. Worse yet, the stupid branches only really broke off in a convenient fashion after a sizable climb, and even then, they grew at an such an angle that I could never just stand. The lack of hand and footholds along the lower portion of the trunk always left me exhausted, but the deep red berries were, regrettably, worth the effort. 

Hand over hand and feet pressed firmly on the trunk I climbed up the tree, letting my weight hang downwards effectively anchoring my grip on the trunk. I grit my teeth. Climbing like this was always a pain. I could feel the muscles in my arms swell and ache as I made my way up the trunk. Better sore than hungry. I thought, as my hands finally gripped onto a branch. Hoisting myself up, I surveyed the scene. Those stupid birds had definitely gotten here before me, with one or two of them still darting on and off the branches. Even still, those smooth deep near purple berries were still relatively abundant.

Those stubborn pests ignored my shouts and attempts at shooing them away as I maneuvered along branch after branch, filling the sack I’d brought until it was nearly overflowing. If I had any hopes of trading that human for more of their strange food, I would need more than just a couple berries. 

I sat, letting my feet hang over the edge of the branch as I tied the mouth of the bag. This was weird, right? Wanting to see a human? To spend time with them? I shook my head, ridding myself of doubt as quickly as it came. Mark had been weird, sure, but he could talk!! An unwelcome thought seemed to bubble to the surface…

How long has it been since I’ve heard a voice other than my own? 

Yeah, no. Bad thought. No time for those. Rising to my feet, I heard the sudden flutter of wings as those pesky masked birds took flight, swooping away from me and deeper into the woods. Figures, they’d leave now that I- 

My thought was interrupted by a resounding screech.

Fuck. 

---

The sticky summer air struck like walking into a wall. I made my way out of the sanctuary of my air conditioned house, and into the frying pan my porch had become. Was this real? A tiny man... There had been a tiny man in my house. Sal… that was the name he’d given me. He was a rough looking creature, and I had no doubts after just one glance at him that he had been living outside. He had warm, sunburnt skin, and was covered in an unsightly layer of grime. I found myself wishing I had got a closer look at him, but there was no way in Hell I was getting within arm's distance of that creepy little spider he’d had accompanying him. I shuddered at the thought. The image of it crawling liberally all over him as we spoke made my skin crawl. 

He’d laughed at my reaction too, as if I was the one being weird. 

He’d told me he’d bring me back a treat in exchange for the Oreo. I’d half heartedly tried to tell him there was no need but… if I’m gonna be honest? I wanted him to have a reason to come back. 

I stared up at the sun. The strange little man apparently wasn't very familiar with the concept of hours and had told me he’d meet me when the sun was “around there in the sky” as he pointed vaguely at an angle that seemed to suggest sometime around noon? Maybe?? I took a seat. 

This was crazy. Was I crazy? I mean… a little man… a tiny yet full grown man had just pulled himself up onto my window sill? I ran my hands through my hair, my loose grasp on reality making my stomach knot. It had felt so real… but it couldn’t have been… and yet here I was, sitting on my front porch in this awfully muggy weather waiting to rendezvous with something, someone rather, straight out of a fairy tale. 

The minutes dragged on lazily, as if the muggy weather made time itself move sluggishly. Fuck, was I actually losing my grasp on reality? I mean, I had seen him, heard him, but I hadn’t touched him… I had no pictures, no proof to fall back on. I felt my brow furrow as I swallowed dryly. I’d fucking lost it. Staring up at the sky, I watched as a hawk circled lazily overhead. I’d go into town tomorrow and see if I could get in with a doctor. A solid two days away from the city and I’d managed to develop some form of cabin fever. Just fucking great. 

I closed my eyes and leaned back. Man, it was hot. Somewhere above, the hawk screeched, seemingly in agreement with my thoughts. I thought about going inside to get water… or better yet, a beer, but I couldn’t leave my spot. It was as if I was holding onto a shred of hope, desperate to prove to myself that the miniscule little man had really existed. 

The longer I thought about him, the more doubt seemed to surface in my mind. His voice, while relatively quiet, had been deep. Did that make sense? Surely someone that small would be pitched up? Thinking back, he may have had pointed ears, but everything else seemed perfectly human- 

A strange cacophony interjected into my rambling thoughts; another shriek from the hawk, although this time, much closer. There was the rustling of grass and the puffing sound from flapping wings. I cracked my eyes open and sat up. I knew they were skilled hunters but I’d never seen one in action, and although morbidly curious, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to see the aftermath of whatever poor little creature ended up in its… talons.

Poor little creature…

SAL. 

I sprung up. Reality be damned. What if… what if he really was real… what if he’d been- 

I pushed the thought from my mind as fast as it had surfaced. Don’t think. Just go. I ran down the stairs and out towards where I’d heard the sound, begging that the hawk had just picked off one of the little finches or waxwings that flitted about the property. 

When I saw rustling in the grass it was as if my heart was trying to crawl out of my throat. No. No. No.

Please be alright… My head spun with worry as I moved aside the grass, heart sinking at the sight. A red tailed hawk moved awkwardly on top of something… something small. No feathers were scattered about, no flapping of wings beneath its grip... 

Oh God… 

My throat felt tight. I lunged at the creature, hoping desperately that whatever damage was done wouldn’t be fatal. 

A yelp. 

I nearly fell back from the soft sound of shock that came from beneath the bird. Everything seemed to slow as my brain struggled to keep pace with what I was seeing. There he was. That tiny little man… Sal… Covered head to toe in blood. I felt as my own blood drained from my face, bile rising up in my throat. He was soaked. Oh God, was it fatal? What was I supposed to do? Who was I supposed to call for help? How could I-

He smiled. 

His teeth were bright white against the gruesome crimson that covered him. Why was he… smiling…? The limp weight of the hawk in my hand suddenly felt a good deal heavier. I looked from the hawk, to him and back to the hawk. 

Had he…?

“Well?” He said, placing his hands on his hips and craning his neck to look at me, “Fair trade?”

Things were moving too fast for my brain to keep pace. To start, I wasn’t losing my mind. The tiny man was real… and he had killed a hawk… a dead hawk which I now held in my hand. I swallowed the urge to gag. What had he meant by trade… Oh- Oh no. 

---

His face. Oh man, his face. That near death run-in was worth every cut, scrape and bruise to be witness of the realization dawning across that massive face. He turned his head back and forth between me and the redtail hanging limply in his grasp in rapid succession. He looked uneasy. I felt my smile grow even wider. There was disbelief in his eyes. I liked that. I wanted his gaze on me to stay that way. Looking at the bird in his hands I could only feel my pride grow. Fuck those stupid berries, now that was a meal fit for a human. 

“Don’t worry,” I chuckled, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the bird’s blood from my face, “I’m not that rude of a guest. I’ll prepare it for you. Can’t go bringing unfinished gifts, now can I?” 

I stared up at him, awaiting some kind of response. Wow Sal, that's incredible! Or Oh man, that's a pretty big bird, I doubt I can finish it all, or- 

“Prepare…” The colour drained from his face. I snorted. The last family that lived here hadn’t seemed to have to do much with their meat either. Sure, it wasn’t the most pleasant experience but someone had to do it. He crouched down, staring at me with a strange expression; his brow furrowed and his lips pursed. 

“Dude, that's gross. I’m not eating hawk?”

Oh. 

That simple remark seemed to puncture something in my chest. I felt deflated. My smile wiped away in an instant. Did humans not eat redtail…? Why... why was it gross? That strange expression on his face suddenly seemed to come into focus in my mind; disgust. 

Not wanting to look at that expression any longer, I busied myself with looking around the grass. 

“Ha, oh yeah, that’s… I had something else. Um,” I felt heat rise to my face. I didn’t get what was wrong with it? What was I missing? “It should have fallen around here somewhere…”

Fuck, I felt small.

I was all too aware that even as I cast my gaze downward, he could see every movement I made. His presence loomed over me. Small. What had felt like an insurmountable feat just a few moments ago was a dismissable nothing to someone like him.

A cruel voice seemed to rise from the ether within my mind. So are you. 

---

Shit. 

He had been really excited, hadn’t he? He’s done the equivalent of slaying a fucking dragon, and how do I react? By saying it's gross?? I mean, the idea of eating a wild hawk most definitely is gross, and questionably legal, but… My thoughts trail off as I stare down at the crestfallen little man. He doesn’t meet my gaze. That borderline uncanny confidence seemingly eviscerated by a single tactless comment. 

I chew my lip and groan, albeit, internally. 

“Sal…” he doesn’t look at me, but I catch him flinching at his name, “You know… Now that I think about it, it’s probably pretty similar to turkey.” His head snaps back to me, eyes full of hope. I offer him a smile. 

“I’ll give it a shot. Can’t let a great catch like this go to waste.” 

It’s as if a switch goes off, and suddenly he’s beaming, his cocksure grin even wider than before. It would be an adorable sight…  if not for the fact he was drenched in the blood of his prized catch. I cringed internally as I offered him my hand. He took a step back, as if unsure of what I was doing. 

“You can use my kitchen to prep the meat, but only if you wash yourself off first…” I paused, “Please.” 

His grin never faltered. 

“You got it, Tree-Top.” Despite absolutely dreading his meal, I couldn’t help but grin right back at him. 

He took a hesitant step onto my open palm, looking back and forth between my face and my outstretched hand as if asking if it was okay. I nodded encouragingly, repressing the urge to gag as I saw the tiny bloody handprint he left on my thumb. Gross. Gross. Gross. 

Instead I focused on the absolutely wild sensation of holding small… human…(?) in my hand. The sensation was beyond bizarre. Nothing like holding a small rodent or lifelike doll could come close to comparing. I could feel how intentional every movement was, as if I could sense the human intelligence behind each carefully placed step. The thought that I was quite literally holding a life in my hands was overwhelming, and I teetered back and forth between excitement and anxiety.  

I stood.  As he rose upwards in my cupped hand, he gripped onto my thumb with an unnerving amount of strength for a being of his size. Looking down at him, my own stomach lurched. With seemingly no instinct for any form of self preservation, he leaned over the edge of my palm on his hands and knees, watching with rapt excitement as the ground disappeared beneath him. He turned his attention to me briefly, shooting me a cheeky little cocksure grin, before going back to watching the ground pass by in awe as I made my way back towards the house. 

In those moments, I was all too aware of every item I had ever dropped in my life, and suffice to say it was more than a few. My heart felt as though it would beat itself out of my chest as he let himself nearly dangle off the edge of my palm. Slowly, I leaned my palm against my chest and curled my fingers inwards. Sal was unphased with the change in position, absentmindedly shifting to standing, his feet perched firmly on my pinky while he leaned precariously over my index finger.

His excitement only seemed to grow as we entered the house. His head was constantly on a swivel, taking in every detail he could catch. Which arguably wasn’t much as I hurried toward the kitchen counter, the sticky feeling of quickly drying blood on my hands leaving my skin crawling. Ew. Ew. Ew. 

“Stay right there.”

Placing him and the bird beside one another on the counter I hurriedly turned on the sink, letting out a deep sigh of relief as the rush of water cleaned my hands. The last thing I needed was a bloodied little man exploring the area where I made my food. I bit my lip, trying my hardest to keep the disgust from forming on my face, not wanting to upset my gruesome little guest. 

“Here,” I grabbed a table cloth and wet it, offering it to the little man. He didn’t hesitate to begin wiping himself down. As I went to lay out a cutting board, I paused, my stomach sinking. Fuck, I thought, am I going to have to … I grimaced. 

“Um, hey man, are you going to need me to-” He cut me off with a wave of his hand, shooing me away as he strode over to my knife block as if this were his kitchen. 

“No, no,” he said dismissively “I got it.” He smiled over his shoulder as he yanked out a serrated knife from the block. Nope. Don't wanna see this. I turned to leave, but a small shout made me pause. Sal stood atop the hawk, knife slung over his shoulder like an oversized video game sword, waving me down with his free hand. 

“Can you grab me a bowl?”

“Why do you-” he cut me off,

“Organs.” I gagged and silently prayed he didn’t notice. Right. Gross. I tried to hide the revulsion as I plopped a bowl down on the counter, averting my gaze from the carnage on the cutting board. I needed a beer. Or four. Not wanting to wait around in case Sal thought I could make myself useful I disappeared down the hall, now more thankful than ever that I had kept my college mini fridge as a beer fridge away from the kitchen.