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infomodder) wrote2016-04-14 08:35 pm
infomodder) wrote2016-04-14 08:35 pm
Entry tags:
IC contact [Mask or Menace]
"Gone fishing."
[ so don't leave messages to ruin the after fishing glow !!!
your one stop shop for not leaving him alone ]
no subject
70% of the body? I hadn't realized it was that much.
Yet you're not living with them, are you?
[ Chilton's easy to want to avoid. Gideon is... A different sort of wary puzzle.
That other shoe, on the other hand, is going to be one hell of a slimy, well-loved find. Frightening indeed. ]
no subject
Nearly. Around 70%, depending. Age plays a factor in it, just like nourishment and hydration. It can fluctuate, it's not completely consistent, but the human body has a lot of water in it.
No. I'm still where I was put when I got here. There's no one here I know that I'd want to live with. The strangers I've been placed with aren't so bad. No one really seems to mind Gunther, either, so that's a bonus.
[Just imagining Chilton or Gideon dealing with his dog. Just imagining Chilton upset because all his suits are fur-covered monstrosities. Just imagining Chilton and Gideon living in the same area is a Goddamn nightmare almost on par with antlered Titans running around the woods outside his house. No.
Probably got second-hand shoelaces, too. Possibly in a tacky color. Horror.]
no subject
Who's Gunther?
[ There's both amusement and horror in those imaginings. The two can too often end up intertwined to some extent.
Though not as horrifying as the thought of that innocuous, well-worn shoe. ]
no subject
It's a few minutes before the camera clicks on, and Will's not exactly the focus of it. A mustached dog lays sprawled out on the floor, ear flopped over and tongue hanging out for maximum "he's really asleep" effect. There's a moment where it's just the snoozing dog before Will's hand appears and he snaps his fingers right into that ear. Gunther responds instantly, though groggy, a mess of paws scratching on the floor and that mustache quivering as he looks all over the place to figure out why the hell he's suddenly been woken up.
When he sees nothing but Will (if she listens, there's laughter to be heard, but it's very quiet), he makes a face that all but comes with subtitles of "how dare you" or "I can't believe you" or "I'm sick of this shit" before he verbalizes that with a grunt. To drive his point home, he sneezes, which has Will's laughter cut off with a groan. Still amused, but ugh. Snotty pants.]
This is Gunther.
[Who is now ignoring Will and going back to sleep.]
no subject
She's never seen anything like Gunther. Dogs, yes, in the sense that such animals were used in hunting, but she lacks experience with them, and they didn't look like the kind of dog she sees now, snapping awake, then making faces at having been roused for nothing more than the entertainment of their caretaker and someone who hadn't known Gunther was anything other than a name until a minute ago.
It's in this process that Annie activates her own video feed, half a face, a blue eye, blonde hair and an expanse of uncluttered wall with a doorframe partly in frame at her back. She's sitting sideways, looking at the camera now, before looking toward the door.
Her voice is muffled by direction. She's trying to decide if Reiner is around. ]
That's a dog, right?
[ She doesn't sound entirely sure. She's seem more of them in the city, all sorts, but Gunther's still different, and she's not sure the small ones aren't domesticated foxes or overgrown rats. People make everything pets around here. It could be true. ]
no subject
Yeah, he's a dog. German wirehaired pointer, to be exact. Hunting dog, requires plenty of exercise...stays in the shop with me during the day. He's still a puppy, even with as big as he is. Training him is a process but. Making progress pretty well.
[Even if he can't see her fully, it's good to see her at all. Text is one thing, but if whoever it is never shows themselves it feels like a treat when they finally do.
For the most part.]
no subject
Which could have been a statement, but was more of a statement on her irritation with pointlessly decorated outerwear. ]
The hunting dogs I've seen didn't look anything like him. He's only a puppy? How many months old?
[ ... Okay. She's genuinely interested in the dog. This isn't as far out there as the other animals that keep pulling at her attention. Dogs have a function, albeit one divorced from her, and it makes her interested hearing about something more tangibly relatable for once. ]
You're training him to hunt?
[ Fisherman, houndsman, investigates the dead... sort of, man. Will wears a lot of hats on that messy mop of hair. ]
no subject
I don't know, exactly. He was in a shelter. Over a year, at least. But considering the lifespan of a dog, he's. Still something of a puppy. Didn't have good training, have to keep that in mind.
[But the question about Gunther hunting makes him smile. Somewhat. It's his version of a smile.]
No, no. No. He's a water fowl sort of dog. Birds. One of my housemates keeps birds so...keeping that out of training so they're not targets. Cohabitation is possible if influence is exercised.
[Gunther isn't aware of it. Will wasn't aware of it. Funny how things work out.
Fisherman, houndsman, instigates the dead...sort of. He's also got a damn good knowledge of insects; he wrote the standard on how to tell time of death by their activity and what stage of life they were in. That head is a mess under the mop of hair that is also a mess. At least the outside reflects the inside?]
You could see him in person, if you want.
no subject
But she understands old injuries, even if none of her own stay. She understands bad shoulders, even if hers had been giant at the time, and healed as they must. Understands blindness, and how to fight on, regardless. Feels pretty blind now.
There's the dog. There's an offer. It's simpler than most the rest of things she's had arranged for herself. For once, she won't even need to eat anything. (Slurpees, ice cream, whatever the next thing is that someone decides she's as good as dead if she's never given it a try, without knowing that's the case no matter what she touches. As good as dead. As bad as alive.) ]
They shelter strays?
[ Animals, not even people? No, here, they probably do both. Here, they probably don't shove the refugees of lost lands into emptied warehouses, rationing out their bread day by day. Here they aren't just leaving the weak to die in the streets or fields. Or do they? She has a hard time imaging it's so clean as all that. She's seen the dirty alleys, the homeless faces, the thin sided cats and the rats they chased.
Yet this country shelters strays. If they're lucky. ]
"Cohabitation is possible if influence is exercised."
[ No comment. She finds herself almost smiling, a ridiculous urge - it's too true. Cohabitation is possible if influence is exercised. Influence and control. ]
I'd like that, I think.
[ What is fun? What's there to like? A funny furred animal that smells and moves and acts in unfamiliar ways; a man she knows better through his offers and words on this removed web of communications, crossed and sticky as any well-spun spider's, than in person; an honest sense of curiosity it takes her a moment to place. ]
If it's not an imposition.
[ One requirement. Have fun. Harder to do than it looks, like the gear she and the rest of those from her world strap themselves into to fight the impossible. People. It's always people fighting people. People devouring each other whole.
Even here, just much more politely. Only not now. She looks through the lens of the camera, head canting to the side, quiet, waiting. Not now. She hopes she's right about that. ]
wow excuse you what a glorious tag you gave me
He doesn't know what he's saying, exactly, with the bit about influence—no, no, he does. He doesn't know how it relates to him so much he shouldn't word it like that, doesn't know how much it could sound like someone else that he should avoid sounding like but can't understand why. Dogs must be trained, broken, that's a fact. It is not something enjoyable on Will's end, so he tries to make it as quick and painless as possible. He's gotten good at it. It's somewhat like setting a broken bone: there's damage, but a few moments of severe pain to help put it back together and heal, and it's fine. Only, Will doesn't do it in a way that the dog remembers something painful forever, doesn't stare at him and recall being stuck in a crate to learn not to run away because it's for the dog's own good not to get hit by a car or get lost or get attacked by one of the coyotes near his property. Eventually, they understand, they bond, they're loyal.
Will Graham has never taken pleasure in causing mental distress in a dog for its own good, doesn't like the process but recognizes it has to be done. He hasn't yet realized that the last few months of his life were something similar, though without what was good for him in mind. If he knew, if he had been told and given time to recognize it—his phrasing would have been
different.
He doesn't want to force her; she's not a stray, he doesn't think she needs to be "broken" into fun. Fun's something he finds hard to come by, but something that's informative about life can be enjoyable. Enjoy it, perhaps, would have been a better thing to tell her.]
Yeah. Lucky ones. The, ah, not so lucky ones don't end up in shelters. Or, they do, but...don't get out. [He's used to picking his dogs up off the side of the road or finding them curled in his bushes, cold and thin and sickly and starving. Abandoned. He doesn't have the luxury to go back to that just yet. It's a sad fact that he recognizes for what it is, and his smile reflects as much.] He's learning that the birds aren't to be messed with the same as I'm learning that living with other people isn't. Awful.
[It is.
God, but it is.]
And it's not an imposition at all, Annie. You can stop by whenever you want. Open door policy.
[A few minutes' warning would be nice, if he was in his room. The sound of him hopping around because he was laying around in boxers and that's not how he wants to be seen isn't a flattering one.
There's no desire to devour here, not person or dog or beast of any kind. There's a desire to share. A well of caring, one might say, that comes and goes in waves and relates only to a few while letting others dry up and die of thirst.
Is it better to be eaten or pass away slowly and painfully? Will should regret not saying certain things. He doesn't. Not yet, not now, perhaps not ever.
But he seems kind enough. Just a shaggy guy who likes dogs and fishing and has a heavy job. A well of sea life and fur and bodies. He's just never mentioned the ones that float or drown because of him.]
um no i think excuse you for all this loveliness woah
They'd been striving toward his ideals back then. There'd been a motivating reason for him, and she'd stood there, seen it as nothing so grand, but not refusing his entreaties to give more and more, up to the day he'd held her shoulders and said he couldn't ask her for an apology. They'd run out of time for that, and the ideals that'd driven him to teach her, the things he'd wanted so badly in the end, weren't the ones he asked for anymore.
Survive. Come back to me. Your father is always on your side.
One person in a world she's been set up to oppose, from inside and outside of the Walls. Her heart and soul rebels at the thought, connects despite knowing she can't afford it, laughs when the people she respects turn toward her with wide, frightened, angry eyes, and ask her why they're still alive.
We're here because of what you've done. Annie's stopped asking herself why she didn't do what was necessary for her cause. Whatever her hopes had been, whatever sentimentality had urged her to preserve instead of destroy, they had undone her in the end. The lives she'd found so important there are coming undone at the edges here, and that's almost more cruel, watching someone who has mattered turn into a caricature of who they'd once been.
Like she has anything to say about it. Like someone raised to lies and betrayal has anything she can say in the face of an honest person broken down by the world. Welcome to the scum of humanity.
Have fun. ]
They go in to die.
[ It's a flat, suggestive statement. Tell me different. Not accusing, but not shying away from what it means. Someone has to accept the risk of that collection. Taking in animals that aren't seen as fit to leave again in the end. One way tickets to the end. ]
Awful?
[ A little amusement that the camera probably doesn't show so clearly in her eyes and the set of her shoulders. ]
Such a strong word. Then again, I've been living in barracks of some kind the last three years.
[ What are people but that which you endure, even when they're your roommates who let you sleep through the morning when they can point out you should have been up when standing in the line up with the rest of your newest assigned group. (Thanks, Hitch.) ]
Thank you. I'll keep that in mind.
[ She's not one to barge in without reason. people hopping around, getting ready - sounds like another morning in the barracks, under a rush order to get into gear and out the door.
Sharing is caring. Caring is difficult. Sharing is difficult to accept. Feeding parched grounds produces mixed results, but it may be worth it. Something might hold. Grow, even, but that's not worth holding one's breath for.
Kindness is a double edged blade. It cuts no matter how its used. She'll just hope to heal fast enough that it won't matter. ]
NO U
A child as young as him could never remember that. Not the sound of her voice, the length and color of her hair, not warmth he felt when he sprawled out against her, not the smell of her perfume or anything else. It was all fake, shoved into his "memories" by an imagination that was too expansive for anyone sane to be comfortable with. He still dreamed of those fake memories while being unable to remember the one he needed more than air or food or drink.
Wide, frightened, angry eyes—was that the last look Abigail had given him? Oh, she'd been scared (had he seemed that sick?) and angry, shocked, but when she'd last seen him, had she been disgusted more than anything else?
Disgust, at least, was something that Will would be used to seeing on people's faces. But from Abigail Hobbs?
Failure after failure. One person in the world he'd been set up to save, to help, and he couldn't. Just one person, and he'd thrown it all away. Or, more accurately, someone threw her away for him.]
Not exactly. [He scratches his head; how to explain this?] There is a. Method. Known as euthanasia. Mostly used for older or injured animals that won't have a better life no matter what. It eases the pain and they pass into...it's very calm and quiet. Usually. A way to let them go without them suffering any longer. Generally a kind way to help and relieve.
[But he's seen things. Places that don't do it properly, places that get shut down and have skeletons other than an employee who steals from the kitty (hah) or something humans do to humans that is to be expected. He's not going to mention it, but the way he looks off at what must be his own dog screams he knows worse can happen.]
I lived alone back where I'm from. [Bullshit. He realizes it and sighs. What a Goddamn loser Will is.] Have a house, some land, dogs. Seven dogs. [One day, he'll have fourteen. Seven brides for seven bond brothers, such happiness.] So. Having other people nearby is very strange for me.
[That's one word for it. He avoids the hell out of them if he can. He doesn't need to live in a house where he picks up on everyone's issues and feelings and says something they don't want to hear about themselves by accident.
Nobody likes that guy.
Which means nobody likes Will, because he's the only one who can do what he does like he does it. Caring is difficult? He likes to think that one applies to him, shaggy, dirty, ugly mess of a man that he is.
He doesn't address the thank you. He doesn't need to keep mentioning it. She'll come in her own time or she won't; he can't name a lure after Annie and fish with it. She's not Abigail Hobbs and she's not a stray. He won't treat her like either.]
U 1ST
In the end, it doesn't matter. She'd been free for such a short time, away from the lies, and it'd been wonderful. Scary, exhilarating, and short lived. Encasing herself in crystal had been a last means of preserving what she was for the sake of the man who had sent her there.
Promise me you'll come home.
Just as long as she wasn't caught, sheltered, and euthanized.
Used for older or injured animals that won't have a better life no matter what. ]
Do they euthanize people, too?
[ She doesn't ask with any ill intent. She's curious. Are people afforded the same courtesy? Are they allowed a way out? Not everyone fights, clawing and fighting for their every second of life. Surely some kindness like this is visited on those who ask or merit its release.
Or else it's kind words for a modern way of throwing kittens in sacks and tossing them into the river, weighted down in rocks. ]
Seven dogs? [ Another pause, with that blink of surprise. Seven means expensive. It's all her mind can see, at first.He likes his solitude. She can understand, if she's not exactly the same way. She's glad when solitude can mean not holding up a front, but the isolation from others wears down at Annie's heart. She craves connection. She knows she's not allowed to have them, but it doesn't stop a traitorous part of her from feeling that desire, that need. The itch she shouldn't scratch.
Caring is difficult. Caring for anyone, in any way, compromises solidarity toward a cause. Is it worth it? ]
so goddamn beautiful i had to ignore this 4 a week 2 live up 2 it
He'd seen people left in hideous states. One of the most notable having happened not too long before he got dragged into this superpowered mess. Died on his way to the hospital. Jesus Christ, they had a team of forensic scientists around them (including Will, even if he'd rather left that part of his career behind). They would have been able to take that suffering out in the shallow grave he was in, half-dead already and in tremendous pain, possibly so great that he could no longer feel it.
No. They do not. And he doesn't know exactly how to tackle a question of his opinions on it.]
We don't euthanize people where I'm from. Pretty sure it's the same here. [Human life is important. Will did what he did to save lives, even if it helped destroy his own. Guilt ate at him the same way mushrooms ate at the poor bastard he was looking over, thinking dead. But what happens when that human life leans more towards death or, worse: no longer human. Just a shell, a husk of the person they used to be. No longer walking or talking. Breathing. Existing. But not them, not anymore, not John Smith or Jane Williams. Another body that breathes and uses air and needs food. Besides that? Nothing "human" remained.] And seven dogs, yes. My area was a commonplace for people to get rid of dogs they didn't want. Or strays would wander up to the back porch. Found one curled up in the bushes during a hard freeze. Wouldn't have known she was out there if the other dogs hadn't started barking. Fortunate that we got her in when we did. [No one wants to wake up to a pupsicle.] I'd adopt out the ones that people would take. Ran background checks before to make sure they weren't going to do the Christmas puppy routine that had plenty of them at my house later on.
[Christmas puppy. He should explain that.]
There's a holiday called Christmas, end of December. People give each other gifts. The bigger the better. Lots of people would buy their children puppies. Puppies are cute. They'd buy them for being cute without researching the temperament of the breed. Or being ready to train a puppy. Few months later, kid's lost interest in the puppy. Parents don't want to deal with it. So they get rid of it. It stopped being cute. They didn't have the patience to properly break it. So it gets thrown out.
[While his opinion on euthanizing people is not easily read in tone or the look on his face, his opinion on Christmas puppies sure as shit is.]
meanwhile i flail at trying to keep up today FLAILS REALLY ARTFULLY
She wonders if the concept of a mercy killing is considered taboo in this country, or just his own. If it's taboo across all of this vast, wide world. What a strange thing to grant animals, how callous, really, when denying humanity the option to die on their own terms.
How inhumane. Only she knows it'd be called otherwise... and she can understand why, too. ]
Not even mercy killings on the battlefield?
[ Is their technology so amazing they can save even the most destroyed of lives? This porter business doesn't explain the billions of people worldwide.
His words on this crazy holiday... Annie looks perplexed, frowning. How pointless. How ridiculous. How... ]
Stupid. What kind of idiotic holiday is that, trying to outgift another person, and being expected to do that? Impulsiveness like that won't be responsible. Taking responsibility for lives for a justification like that...
[ She snorts. Honestly, it's the concept that's so alien to her. People do like to give gifts, it's a human thing, when one can afford it, and gifts can be time to company to something more manufactured than either of those.
Here, she hears about disposability, excess. People rich enough to throw away things like they don't matter. ]
... It's so pointless. Human, and pointless.
ur a van gogh puts u on wall
There've been plenty of wars. Before, medics would have packs with...if the soldier was dying and couldn't be saved, they could pump them full of a painkiller that served to take the pain and. Assist them to death as mercifully as possible. Battlefields are different now. [He's positive similar situations still happen. They have to. War is hell, gentlemen, and not all of it is on camera. No one would ever have to know, and if the guy was hurt enough, why do an autopsy?] Christmas puppies are stupid. Just because something is cute doesn't mean people don't need to be as responsible with it as everything else. Many breeders won't sell around Christmas unless the families prove they know what they're getting into and won't toss it to the pound.
[Many breeders and one lonely guy who lives in Bumfuck Nowhere that gets more adoption traffic during December than usual. They come to the wrong house for that, and he makes damn sure they know it. Them and whoever else they might have recommended him to.]
You not human or just...know humans too well?
but i wanted to grow up monet
Annie keeps her expression neutral. Battlefields are different now? They'd always been different. How different from the ones before the Titans, she doesn't know. Different from ones after...?
What an equally impossible statement. ]
Are they? How strange...
[ But what, exactly, is strange? The waste? The carnage? The uselessness? That people grant final moments to those suffering through pain they can't contain?
No. Just strange that the more things change, the more they stay the same. Fight hard to save lives, wish you could die to stop the pain. Find no one willing to help you, or finding too many willing hands.
But that's a digression. Saving lives against Titans meant stopping the bleeding before someone bled out. Picking them up if knocked out. Strapping them to saddles and running for Hell. Mercy is a shot in the face for someone about to be devoured.
No one earns mercy. No one has the time. ]
The pound being another word for dog shelters?
[ Not really a verification, but something she says for the sake of drawing her own connections. What else he asks... that grabs her attention. Not with anything startling - Annie doesn't flinch, or start, or do much more than blink - but that blink is one that has her focusing her attention fully on the tiny, inadequate screen. ]
That's blunt of you. [ A small sense of admonishment; manners. Have a little manners. ] People are people. It hasn't been surprising to learn that humanity acts in familiar ways here as back home... and I am human.
[ I'm a Titan. ]
Not a righteous one, nor a very good one, but people like me... we're still human, aren't we? Even if we're just the sort to go along with the flow.
[ Human, down to the blood she bleeds and the tears she cries. Titan, from below the knees to where her skinless face touches the sky. They're the same thing.
They're the same damn thing. ]
u wanted to be a blurry lily pad?
Well.
He looks admonished and incredulous that he's just been admonished by a teenage girl. Better that than what he's dealt with the past few months (though if he could get her back, he'd happily let himself get chewed out repeatedly without ever once complaining).
"We're still human, aren't we?" — her, or people like her included, does that "we" apply to just her, people like her, or is she pulling Will into that we?
Huh.]
There's plenty of people here who aren't human, that's all. Why I asked. Different sorts I never would have imagined, stuck just like everyone else. Still think of them as people. Just...different from humans. Biologically. [Humans are damn different all on their own; why couldn't he extend "people" to everything (everyone) else? Shockingly human, some of the people who weren't human at all.] Humans don't have to be righteous or good to still be human. Or people. No one's perfect. Can't toss the imperfect aside without tossing everyone there, too. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone, and so on.
[If his voice makes him sound a little dazed, it's because he is. Is he really having a conversation about people being unrighteous and not very good, being asked about it like...he's not a guy with terribly skewed morals who's left plenty of people in misery and dust for his own means?
He'll just go along with the flow.]
or the water under the blurry lily pad, everyone forgets the blurry water and bridges
Annie considers what she hears, in his voice, in the inadequate image of his face, making some small noise of acknowledgement that she's not sure is even picked up by the communicator. She's had to make compromises with her understandings, already aware people are so different - humans are do different - that aliens, from giant metal creatures to ones who look almost human, if not entirely, must be part of the same idea. She has no good words for it; cultures have too many divides. Annie doesn't try to set things in neatly labeled boxes, knowing it's a cluttered mess to slog through.
Thinking creatures are thinking creatures. Werewolves are sick. The Risen are not allowed to rest after life. Gods are as present as monsters. It's all confusing, all improbable, and all difficult to deny. Annie doesn't bother. An open mind will get her further than every denial she swallows down first.
For the peoples, and cultures, of this place. ]
Wise advice, but he with his own sins to hide will cast the first stone to keep eyes looking away from his fears and focusing on something easier to see.
[ She looks away as she says as much, not familiar with the idiom Will quotes. Even stoning isn't much of an issue in her world, but the idea of having such things thrown, oh, she understands that well. ]
Is that what you thought of the people you tracked down, the ones who left you reckoning with the dead? They're all still human, no matter what levels they've sunk to? Even if they feel nothing, regret nothing, of what it is they've done?
you wanted to be the forgotten
She'd never heard of Lucifer. Quoting the bible hadn't been well thought out, he realizes, but her take on it is interesting. Instead of asking what he means or where he gets it from, she takes it and gives back her own thoughts on it (or what she might want him to think are her thoughts, she could be lying about everything to do with herself the same as everyone else here he's never met), gives him something to chew on later. Something to do during downtime that's not crossword puzzles or bookkeeping or looking through everything said to keep an eye on certain people.
It's not until she asks him for his own thoughts that he pulls a face, trying to figure out how to say it without saying too much or too little.]
Of course they're still human. They might not act in ways that humans like or understand very well, and they might not want to be thought of as another human, but that's...what they are. That's something they can't change. Back where I'm from, we're all human. [No superpowers, no talking dogs, no mutations, nothing. Just human.] That's how you catch them. And they're not all—people try to fit serial killers like I track into boxes. Labels. Something that makes sense to them but doesn't. Work. I prefer looking at the way they think as opposed to shoving them into categories. Waste of time until we lock them up, sometimes a waste of time even then.
[Just not Will's waste of time. Until they start killing the staff, then it's less a waste of his time and more an enormous throbbing headache.]
Not everyone who ends up doing that sort of thing would have done it if something hadn't happened to them to make them...not who they used to be.
[Which doesn't give lives back (even if they were the lives of people who should have been locked up themselves), but there are so many gray areas where Will works that sometimes it feels like black and white aren't anywhere to be seen.]
i bet you thought this tag was forgotten (CRIES INTO TEA)
She admires, respects that mentality, is thankful in the same turn that it's not the majority of the people in the world. Such special people are needed... as a balance.
If no one pushed for a better world, then alternative, the end result of apathy dictating the flow of a world is a population ruled by the ambitious without a hope for betterment in the human condition.
Surely, nothing monsters should concern themselves with. It's not like the joke of the system had to be reflected back on them, those who stood and only asked to be considered human, too. ]
I imagine your way of viewing these things is hard for the average person to understand.
[ People want boxes. They want neat lines. She knows life would have been simpler if she had those herself; if she'd had anything close to an absolute belief. ]
Looking for the motivations is along our lines of work in the end... isn't it. I suppose policing has something to do with those kinds of investigations. What makes a person do what they do.
[ Her own time with the Military Police had been short, but such assignments, taking steps outside and striving to understand to be able to bring in what they're supposed to.
Even while other ends are acting at the behest of the highest powers, eradicating threats, not defending anything more or less pitiable than a power base. ]
yes, like the avril lavigne song (it better be sweet)
So it goes.
The mention of the way he views things being different (not the way he thinks; different wording is appreciated) has his lips thinning out. It's not a happy topic. If there had been more like him (anyone else like him, for that matter), he wouldn't have been so needed, so desired, and if he'd retired like he should have, Abigail Hobbs would not be dead. If only there'd been someone else to fill his slobbery, furry, chewed shoes.
Military Police. Something better to latch onto, even if she seems young.]
If we can find a way to understand the cause behind things, we can work towards a method to stop that cause. [It's...true enough. Just not exactly in his specific line of work.] Setting curfews for the underage to counteract juvenile delinquency, for one thing. That was. An attempt that seemed to do some good.
["Some good" is better than "nothing good at all." But it was still there, and so it goes and so it goes and so it will never stop.]
No offense in your direction because of the...age factor. The first thing to spring to mind. Don't imagine they let just anyone in the Military Police.
[Ah, yes. That's a much more humane smile.]
which one she has multiple oh no i'm forgotten songs (bittersweet with my tears)
It's the people stuck in the nightmare who are, who devour without knowing, who can't wake up and walk on lost for decades as a monster that tries to reclaim what some portion of itself remembers as being right.
Titans, who would be humans. Humans, who would be Titans. Monsters in a fucked up world.
Mankind always invents itself as its own worst enemy. ]
They only allow the best. Which is unfortunate. The Military Police recruit the top graduates each year, and they're the ones who never face the threat we're all trained to handle.
[ Sliding past age. Sliding past the rest; juvenile delinquency, as if delinquency restricts itself to an age group. Curfews means punishing before they can get into more trouble at night. Add a pressure, set a fear. It works.
It always works, for the majority of normal people. Those who like the thrill of breaking with the social law that guides their lives also like the fear of being caught, or fight against it.
Curfews... she needs to keep those in mind. ]
Secured in the center of the human empire, the most capable soldiers humanity has never face the threat of the Titans destroying humanity.
[ Oh what a wonderful world... There's derision there, derision and knowledge; Annie aimed for this group. Not for the reasons she's said, exactly; not because they're safest, but indeed, because she wants to save herself.
Aim for the middle. Aim for the heart. Finish her objective, and get the hell out. It's the only way she's ever getting to go home, and as far as she knows, that's impossible anymore. ]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jeb6zN7TEYQ the one with that for the name (unacceptable)
And he had to clean it up. Had. Not anymore. Not here. He won't let it happen. One whiff of a Ripper murder and it all comes tumbling down for someone else.
His own world is a mess, so it goes, so it goes, and this one is, too, in its own way. He is not yet, however, feeling like he owes it anything. The monsters he knows don't seem to roam here as much, what good would it be for him to get a desk job? While monsters may roam, as long as they don't leave body art to announce their presence, well.
So it fucking goes without him.
This has taken a turn for something he didn't expect, has his eyebrows lifting slightly and lips thinning out. Nothing too expressive just yet. He can control his face.]
So it was...a cushy job for the best, you're saying? Never going out in the field?
[He's not judging, not deriding the idea of a desk job. Some people wanted to sit at desks. He's got knowledge of that.
He wouldn't have minded it so much.
But the more he learns, the less he thinks he'd have liked Annie's home much at all.]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYunO8SZe30 randomly this is the one that came to mind for me
[ She breathes out, a small, short huff of amusement. ]
The world I come from has its own sense of humor. The best at fighting the threat to humanity are taken away from that fight. They're brought in to police over humanity itself, under the order of the King, and among them, the youngest, newest recruits are most heavily relied on to perform.
There's a field to work in - several, in fact - but it isn't where they could be most effective. Not for the fight against the Titans.
[ For a very different fight, a political, social battle, it's brilliant. The most loyal are rewarded with the kinds of lives that bred corruption by teaching how to look the other way, brutally and effectively making the world conform to those expectations. ]
You go where you're ordered to go. You fight, capture, interrogate as you're told. You hunt down missing family members, you track down people dodging taxes, you escort drunks out of taverns, you stand watch when important prisoners are moved through your district.
We're the enforcement and the executioners when called for. Yet we don't have to stand and fight the biggest known threat for the last hundred years. Funny... isn't it.
[ She doesn't find it funny in the slightest. So it goes. ]
stop ship pushing
ships all the way across the /sea/
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIqwqsKcTNE
musical interval..............
no jimmy buffett, noh-varr would be amazed
but would he be impressed
no, will is not kree enough