When your auditory processing problems are so bad that you seriously can’t tell if someone is speaking another language or if you just can’t understand them
Member of the “Sorry, I didn’t hear what you just told me, because there are those two people talking 5 meters away, a child crying on the opposite sidewalk, and 3 cars passing by, on all of which my brain focused and put at equal volume in my ear instead of politely putting your sound first” squad
I’m really not even as sorry as I should be.
I lived and worked in a lighthouse at a previous job. There was a thick line painted in a circle around the shack where the fog signal was kept. The line represented how close you could get to the fog signal without experiencing physical harm in the form of eardrums shattering or worse.
Even in the house it was LOUD. Probably the loudest thing I have ever experienced but at a normal, predictable interval. You would begin to time your sentences with little pauses with the rest of the lighthouse crew so you would talk like this while making your………..HORN…………. tea and then carry on talking because you knew when it would go off. It rattled the walls and the dishes in our cabinet.
At least one girl had died there. They kept photos of her everywhere “in honor of her sacrifice” because she had decided to take the winter watch alone and died in a storm where bounders the size of mini vans had been lifted out of the ocean and left scattered across the island, to say nothing of the ice chunks. People weren’t allowed to be alone on the watch after that.
One day a dead moose washed up on shore and it took my entire crew all day but we managed to rig up a line to hang it up to dry because we thought having a moose skeleton in the house would really spice the living room up a bit. It did. Weird shit happens when six of you are left alone, like ALONE ALONE, no cell reception, no wifi, just a radio to contact the real world and not a lot of reason to do that. People don’t go on lighthouse jobs if they want to stay connected, I’ve found.
That said Id do it all again, I really do treasure those days
you know you could’ve just said “no they don’t have wifi” and that would’ve answered the question
But then you wouldnt have known about the moose
Y/n talking, probably to V: -I was getting donuts for my boyfriend (Dante) and my best friend (Nero), who I lovingly refer to as my boys. When I placed my order at the drive through window, I told the owner/cashier that I was getting Donuts for my boys. When she asked me how old my boys were, I panicked, and said they were 5 and 7.
You know you are a true RK fan when you get an Enishi and Kenshin Hello Kitty doll from Japan, and totally fuck up all of your microscope slides undergoing Immunohistochemistry staining because you screamed your ass off, scaring the delivery man.
@avaantares LOOK AT THEM LOOK AT THEM LOOKATTHEMLOOKATTHEEEEEEEM
if a fictional character gets stabbed, they have only 2 valid options:
1. slowly raise their hand to the wound and/or pull the weapon impaling them out while everyone stares in horror before collapsing to the ground from shock and/or blood loss and being caught just in time by their friend/sibling/love interest
2. hide the wound beneath a dark item of clothing in preparation for the dramatic reveal later where another character touches them and their hand comes away bloody or they overexert themselves and they stumble and wince but still try to insist they’re fine, even though they’re clearly in pain and struggling to stay on their feet, and as the other character peels back their jacket it becomes clear that they’re badly hurt and have been for a while (bonus points if they’re wearing a white shirt underneath)
i stand corrected they have 3 valid options
Or 4, character shrugs it off and laughs followed by the formerly stabbed character going off on whoever stabbed them
I love this page. There’s so much going on.
First, there’s the Nero-and-V-waiting-in-awkward-silence bit. Nero’s probably distracted with thoughts of Kyrie and the sleeping family he’s left in the house, or maybe he’s trying to psych himself up for the fight to come. He’s not thinking about V at all. V is trying really hard to think about anything other than his family, and he’s doing his best to ignore Nero, too.
And Griffon is having NONE of it. He’s super excited about throwing these two idiots together, and he wants to see his pet human do a silly human trick and show some proper human emotion for once. But V is so out of practice at being a human that Griffon thinks he has to spell it out for him. He straight up tells V that Nero might be his son, or at least his nephew, and he should act like it. For an instant, V goes FULL ON VERGIL: “Foolishness.”
Which seems a little cold until the following panel, when you realize that V already knows everything Griffon is telling him, and his reticence is a defense mechanism. He’ll later tell Trish, “In separating and regaining my human soul, I’ve realized the gravity of the crime I’ve committed,” and part of that was recognizing what he’d done to Nero. Everyone knows Nero is part of Sparda’s bloodline: Sanctus said as much to Nero’s face in DMC4, and Malphas says it in DMC5. Vergil likely would have sensed that, along with the Yamato, but it wasn’t until he became V that he actually cared.
Because he does care, if not for the usual reasons. Because V, Mr. “In regaining my human soul, I’ve realized the importance of everything I threw away in my pursuit of power,” isn’t heartless – he’s terrified of having another family relationship end in betrayal and battle. Of accepting Nero as family, and then having to fight him, as he’s repeatedly fought Dante. At this point, he and Griffon have already discussed the need for him to reunite with Urizen. He knows this is going to end in battle, and someone is going to die.
If Nero is just a pawn, a tool V can use in his survival gambit, it’s easier to accept his sacrifice. But he can’t start thinking of him as family, or else he might not have the fortitude to kill him when the time comes. And since everything V has done since waking up in Red Grave has been a desperate scrabble for survival, to the point where he says he’d rather live on as a pathetic loser than face death again, he can’t take that risk.
Skills that V exhibits, which we can assume – by extension – that Vergil also possesses:
- Reciting poetry (emphasis on William Blake, obviously)
- Choreographed dancing (stage musical fan? stage musical actor?)
- Tap dancing (though how he gets the tap sounds out of those sandals I’ll never know)
- Playing violin (I mean, he’s miming it, but there’s enough fingering involved to suggest he actually does know how to play)
- Conducting orchestral music (to be fair his conducting technique is completely incorrect, but we can assume at least a basic familiarity with Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries”)
- Sarcasm (okay, we already knew Vergil had this)
Skills that V clearly does not possess, which we can assume – by extension – that Vergil also lacks:
- Eating hamburgers without spilling the sauce all over one’s self