#faint world without logos plays on the background

[yudol-skorbi]

manic pixie dream gunslinger

[dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade]

Anger & Cupcakes

Request: HERE A/N: Really took my time with this one. I know the title is kinda odd, but really had no inspiration what to name it lol. @thebohemianpenguin​ this is for you, and I hope you enjoy it! I for sure do love soft and fluffy Sammy. Critiques and comments are welcome  Word count: 1.6 K+ Warnings: none

GIF isn’t mine. I found it in my gallery. If you are the owner/creator of it, feel free to DM me or leave an ask. I’d be more than happy to give you credit. To be added to the permanent taglist, DM me or leave an ask!

Fanfiction Masterlist

“No, Sam. Leave me alone!” you shout and kick the door which closed with a loud thump.

You jump in the bed and pout, anger still boiling through your veins. You couldn’t believe the audacity he had to argue with you that you have taken his acoustic guitar from the house to one of your friends and left it there without telling him. And you couldn’t believe the absurdity of this whole situation. Why argue so much about a big pile of nothing?

You crossed your arms over your chest and waited for Sam to come in and apologize, but instead you heard the front door closing and then the engine of his car starting up. You saw his car leave shortly after. You shook your head in disbelief, the rage within you only growing stronger.

You took in deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down for when Sam would come back home and discuss it with him without shouting and without anger. You laid down on the bed, covering yourself with a thin blanket, eventually falling asleep.

You woke up to the sound of steps. Your guess was that it was Sam trying to be silent, but managing to step in all the creaky spots, making incredible noise. You didn’t bother getting up, you just waited to hear the door opening.

You heard the door slowly open with a creek and Sam muttering something inaudible. You felt the mattress moving a little bit as Sam sat down next to you.

“Baby,” he whispers in your ear and places his hand on your shoulder. You open your eyes and turn towards him.

“What do you want?” you blurt out. That came out more aggressive than you intended it to be. You bit your lip, trying to maintain a straight face.

“I want to say I’m sorry. I was wrong and even if I wasn’t wrong, I overreacted,” he apologizes and searches for your hand. “The guitar was at the studio. Danny called after you came here to tell me I forgot it there. Anyway, I shouldn’t have reacted like that, no matter what happened,” he agreed.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” you agree with him and look at him. You knew that moment it was a mistake to do so, because he had this ability to make you forgive him instantly with a simple look and he knew it. Your heart warmed up and let out a defeated sigh.

“Wait, I got you something,” Sam speaks quickly and frees your hand from his. He jogs to the door of the bedroom and bends over to pick up something. You had to admit, you were intrigued. You followed his every single move until he returned next to you and showed you a basket with all sorts of colorful flowers. Sam put them down on the nightstand and made a short sign to wait for a moment before he disappeared again.

You gazed over to the basket of flowers and your heart burst with happiness. They were so beautiful and Sam knew how much you loved flowers and how much you missed spring and summer, just because in wintertime there were no such beautiful flowers. When you moved in with him, Sam even made a special part of the garden, only for you and your flowers.

Sam appeared again in the door frame and kicked off his shoes, remaining only in his dark blue socks with saxes drawn all over them. He had brought you a large box of chocolates, those little ones with a tiny bit of alcohol inside. They were your favorites and Sam knew that that was the way to make you completely forgive him.

“You’re emotionally bribing me,” you laugh as you tear open the package and shove a chocolate into your mouth. At first, it tasted like ordinary chocolate but you squeezed it a little bit more between your teeth and the chocolate cracked in two and let the small, almost infinitesimal, quantity of brandy inside it flow into your mouth, bringing a tiny sense of numbing your tongue.

“And is it working?” Sam asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

You shoved another candy in your mouth. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Now Sam’s face lit up. He was all a smile, ear to ear. He reached out to take one of the chocolates and put it in his mouth. He briefly stood up and took off the jacket he used when he was outside and jumped back in the bed next to you. You took one more chocolate and decided that that was it. You weren’t going to finish the whole thing now, so you pushed it towards Sam.

Sam’s arm snaked around your waist and once he got hold of it, he pulled you closer to him. You didn’t fight against it. You let yourself be pulled and once you were next to his chest and you could hear his beating heart, you buried your face in his shirt. You inhaled deeply the scent that you know so well and love so much.

Sam’s free hand found its way to your back and softly patted you.

“I am very sorry that we had that fight earlier,” he finally speaks and you feel the vibrations of his voice passing through his chest and making their way through your ear. “Will you forgive me?”

“Yes Sammy, of course I do,” you speak, still listening to his heartbeat. You sit up, holding yourself up by using your elbow.

“I love you,” he speaks so soft as if there was somebody eels in your room and he wanted just you to hear it.

“I love you, too,” you smile and sit up, taking Sam by his hand. A playful look made its way to his face.

You lead him in the kitchen. You were barefoot and the contact with the cold floor made you walk a little bit faster. You opened the fridge and pulled out a couple of cupcakes that you had bought the day before. Sam’s eyes glistened, the same way they do when an idea passes his mind.

“What?” you ask with a grin on your face.

“Let’s bake some cupcakes.”

Your lips parted in a smile, revealing your teeth. You remembered that one time you tried baking with Sam. It probably wasn’t the most brilliant idea ever, but you loved it, so you agreed in an instant with his idea.

You were planning on baking a cake the next day, so you had all the necessary supplies. You and Sam both put your hair up in buns and prepared all the ingredients. You agreed on making chocolate cupcakes with blueberry marmalade filling. You two definitely made a mess, but swaying to Lou Reed’s songs with Sammy while baking was definitely a dream come true. Sam was such a special boy – he always comforted you and he felt like home. He was the home of your heart.

When you finally finished the cupcakes and put the dough in the cupcake cases, you looked around the kitchen. Flour all over the counter, your apron, your face and Sammy’s face. You laughed at the image as Sam grabbed your waist and placed his lips on yours. It was like your lips were perfectly made for each other. They knew perfectly the steps to the dance they had to do every time they met and this time was no different.

You could taste some faint mint, probably from the gum he chewed earlier, and a gentle, but persistent taste of blueberry marmalade. Your lips swayed perfectly as your whole bodies did the same to the rhythm of the music playing softly on the background. The kitchen was covered in the sweet smell of freshly baked dough and you could’ve sworn the temperature in the room raised a little bit.

When finally you pulled away from the kiss, Sam looked down at you. He was a couple of inches taller than you, but that was no problem for you. It meant that every time you hugged, you would be on the perfect level with him, head resting on his chest and his arms pulling you towards him, as if protecting you from the chaotic and loud world around.

Sam still had a little bit of flour on his finger so he poked at your nose, leaving some of it there and then bursting into a loud laugh that made you laugh too.

You pulled the tray out of the oven and while the cupcakes were cooling, you quickly cleaned up the counter and you cleaned yourself. By the time you were done, the cupcakes were down to a reasonable temperature. You put them on a plate and walked with it in the living room, where Sam was shuffling through his records.

He was wearing a red sweater with the Detroit Red Wings logo on it and his hair was still caught up in a bun, strands falling down his chest. Thanks to the lighting in the room, his cheekbones and jawline were even more prominent than usual and his eyes got a deeper, yet lighter shade of brown that looked like old honey. This whole image seemed like a renaissance painting.

Sam put on the record in his hands and took the plate of sweet treats from your hand and placed it on the couch, not before he took a cupcake though. He took a bite out of it and his face lit up in pure delight. He put down the bitten cupcake and took you by the hand and interlocked your fingers together and spun you around. You noticed that now both of you were barefoot, but now the cold floor wasn’t greeting you harshly, like before, but with a lot more delicacy.

“Thank you for being in my life and for making me the happiest man to ever walk this Earth,” he whispered in your ear as he lead your first few steps to the rhythm of the music. The first steps into a night that the two of you danced away, lost in each other’s eyes.

Tags: @myownparadise96​, @satans-helper​, @jeordinevankiszka​, @littlegeekwonder​, @songbirdkisses​, @pomegranatecurses​, @umbriellethenightfall​, @freeeshavacadoo​, @karrotkate​, @mountainofthesunn​

[daybreakdarling]

Source Code of Our Hearts (Sombra x Reader)

Word Count: 3.5k+ Trigger warnings: Mentions of kidnapping/human trafficking (not graphic) Crossposted on: Ao3

It would be an understatement to say that Sombra was great at what she does. She didn’t devote herself to hacking for nothing. The hacker built reputation from the ground up, and her work does not go unnoticed. Sombra made sure that she was the best of the best, and whenever someone attempted to challenge her, she was quick to put them down.

So when an anonymous message in a hack into her own system came, Sombra wasted no time to decode it.

Her sugar skull logo and purple screens were replaced with a different motif and screens of another color once the message was decrypted. In the middle of the hologram was a single application, and at the touch of it the hacker was immediately met with more malware and viruses. They weren’t hard to take down, but they were becoming a nuisance with how many came up.

With the final virus taken cared off, the screen is cleared.

[ UNKNOWN IS CALLING ]

> ACCEPT / DECLINE

Sombra accepted the call without delay as she rested her chin on her palm. Call it reckless, but at this point she wanted it over with.

The Talon operative took the day off just for this (taking days off at Talon were hell to ask for), and even then it was already late at night due to minor errands. She hoped that going through this trouble for one person would be worth it.

A white mask came up. The sudden flash of white blinded her.

“Yo,” you greeted, mirroring her posture but with a smug enthusiasm in contrast to her annoyance.

“I hope the DDoS attacks and Trojans weren’t too hard.”

The room was pitch black behind you. Faint computer system sounds and audios buzzed from your side of the call. A dim lightsource was set to the side with an angle to create a sort of dramatic look.

Maybe you had set it up to leave an impression, and she couldn’t help but snort at the thought.

“They were annoying ,” she replied.

“So, thanks.”

“El placer es mío. ”

She raised a brow.

“How did you find that pathway in my system?” she asked straightaway.

“What about it?”

“Others would usually send through proxy servers, maybe a waterhole attack or two, but you went through the trouble of source routing your code packet to mirror that of Talon’s—decent routing, by the way—which, by extension, means you tampered with Talon encryptions, a couple of government ICMPs, and my firewall.”

You hummed in thought, “You wouldn’t of opened my message if I had sent it normally.”

That’s true, she thought to herself.

“And, well… I’m not like the others.”

“Oh?”

Sombra waited for you to elaborate, but you only gave her silence, as if that would give her all the answers.

For a moment, she saw herself in you—someone with many tricks up their sleeve. Your aura was that of strong mischief; in conversations, maybe you would subtle secrets in cheeky banter for others to decipher, or you would easily manipulate others into getting what you want, things that she would do. If the both of you had met any other way, maybe Sombra wouldn’t mind getting a drink or two with you.

But you challenged her at her own game, and she was going to make sure that you played it.

“Well, it was a nice minute of getting to know you but,” Sombra started, bringing up her hand to show a screen with a red skull.

“If you don’t have business with me, I’ll just go and—”

You put your hand up. Sombra saw lines of interconnecting cybernetics on your fingers, like hers. Before she could say anything, hologram pads in your color appeared by the flick of your palm, and you typed with inhuman speed.

BEEEEEP!

The lock down system she brought up to use on you disappeared.

“I do have business with you,” you said, putting down your hand as you went to look at something else, probably another screen.

“Besides, how can you shut down my system if you can’t get to yours?”

You missed the bewildered expression of the other hacker as she tried to bring up her other systems, which all ended with an error sound and a lock with your logo. Even with an attempted override, the only things that came up on her screen was the same logo that glowed in your obnoxious color.

She had been hacked.

Sombra narrowed her eyes as you turned back to her.

“I suggest updating your software, amiga, it’s a little outdated,” you said bringing up one screen. It listed all her programs and systems, and beside each name on the list was “HACKED”.

“What do you want?” she growled.

“Information. Everything you have.”

She put up her middle finger, and you did the same.

“What makes you think I’m just gonna give it to you?” Sombra asked.

“It’s recommended that you do,” you answered.

“You want this now, hm?”

You gestured to the list, and Sombra watched as the “HACKED” labels on the list changed into loading bars. Another screen appeared across the list.

[ PREPARATIONS COMPLETE. ]

[ SYSTEM EXTRACTION AT 21.5402%. ]

[ SYSTEM WILL IMMEDIATELY SHUTDOWN AT 100%. ]

“¡Mierda! ” Sombra yelled, bringing up multiple screens around her and working fast to stop what you were doing.

Sombra hit many errors and reminders of your lockdown, but she was determined not to be out-hacked by a someone she didn’t know. Glancing by the video call, you had half the amount of holograms Sombra was using, but it was clear that she was getting somewhere based on the slight frown.

“It would be easier if you just hand it in, Sombra,” you said. At this point, neither of you were looking at each other but were now focused on your own screens and holograms.

Just as Sombra gained access, another part bit the dust. The hacker always made sure that her systems and applications were set with the newest technology and highest security, but (as much as he hated to admit it) whatever you had in your cybernetics was taking hers down like dirt.

“You’re an idiot if you even think I’m giving you a even bit of information,” Sombra snapped back.

Just as she looked at the screen, the both of you made eye contact.

[ EXTRACTION AT 54.6513%. ]

Sombra picked up her pace.

Digital clicks and system haptics came from both sides. Screens were brought in and out of view as you and Sombra worked to compete against each other. Sombra didn’t believe in gods, but whoever was looking seemed to be favoring her side as she was regaining more access, and you were starting to encounter some difficulty.

“How are you holding up?” she sneered through gritted teeth.

You gave her the same condescending look.

At this point, Sombra had pulled up more screens than she has ever had to use. Algorithms, source codes, servers—the hacker’s handled amounts like these before with no problem, but with time on her hands. At the rate she was on, her system was actually slowing down. Even her cybernetics were slightly heating; nothing that would cause anything, but the revelation was alarming.

As she flicked her wrist to alleviate some cramp that was coming up, and she heard a small laugh from the other line.

“Overwhelmed?” you asked.

“Be proud,” she said.

“You’re the first person who’s actually been more of a pain in the ass than me.”

[ EXTRACTION AT 87.7624%. ]

Sombra wasn’t sure what she did within the flurry of commands and sequences, but she caught sight of one small monitor that had been unhacked, as seen by the change of color.

Bringing the screen close enough for her to use but not for you to see, Sombra realized that it was one of her storage systems that housed a great number of programs that she made when she was younger, some of which she still worked on. As much as Sombra wanted to reminisce her first times in of making viruses and codes, time was not on her side as she hastily searched through anything that she could use to her advantage against you.

Click.

[ BLOCKED. ]

Click.

[ BLOCKED. ]

[ EXTRACTION AT 92.8735%. ]

Sombra sent out more one program and hoped for the best.

Click.

…

[ SOMBRA PROTOCOL INITIATED. ]

“Shit!”

Sombra watched as all your holograms turned into purple with her sugar skull. A sense of pride filled her because the tables were turned, and now you were the one fighting back. The pitch black background behind you suddenly lit up with a frenzy of information, and Sombra’s wondered where exactly you were.

“Overwhelmed? ” Sombra mocked, crossing her arms.

[ EXTRACTION COMPLETE. ]

“Wait—”

[ SHUTTING DOWN. ]

All Sombra’s monitors closed. She brought up her keypads, but all the commands that were inputted resulted in an error. Leaning back, she watched as you finished clearing out her program before slouching on your own seat. The both of you were left in darkness, only the screen of the video call illuminating each other.

The both of you sat there in silence, staring at each other. After a minute, the last of Sombra’s patience wore off as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“What are you looking at?” she growled.

“Do I have something on my face?”

Sombra was caught off by a quiet giggle.

“No, it’s just nice to know I can still take your system down.”

After seeing the confusion in her face, you pulled up one file and swiped it away. The file appeared on Sombra’s side, and it contained multiple headlines.

❝ OMNIC CRISIS LEAVES THOUSANDS OF CHILDREN ORPHANED. ❞

“What made you start hacking?”

“What?”

“What made you begin your interest in hacking and cryptography?” you repeated.

“You already took all my data, it should be there,” she sassed, skimming over the old newsletter.

“Just answer me.”

The desperation in your voice was uncannily familiar, and something about it made her give in.

“It was… someone who I cared for,” she breathed out.

“They were the reason I started. We were both orphans, and they were my only friend during the crisis. They introduced me to the world of computer hacking with a beat-up laptop they salvaged.”

“Was the laptop a Orion GX-2100?” you asked.

She slowly nodded.

You sent one more file her way, and Sombra watched as it came up.

❝ MASS KIDNAPPING IN DORADO. ❞

“This was nearly a decade ago, why are you showing this to me?” she said, unable to contain her anger at the memories resurfacing.

“What do you remember from it?”

“That person I was talking about? We were in a gang, and a rival group that lead the kidnapping took a number our people—including them,” Sombra explained.

“Did they make a promise to come back?”

Promise me that you’ll come back. I’ll be back before you know it.

Sombra didn’t answer.

“… I guess I don’t ring a bell anymore, huh?”

The mask was removed, and Sombra’s heart dropped.

“Hola, Oli. Long time no see.”

“… I thought you were dead.”

This time, Sombra opened up a laptop on her table. Since it wasn’t directly linked to her cybernetics, she was right in assuming that it would be still be functional. Looking through files, Sombra brought up another file and sent it back to you through the same server. She watched as the file came up in your hologram as multiple newsletters.

❝ HUNDREDS TAKEN AWAY IN HUMAN TRAFFICKING ATTEMPT. ❞

❝ AFTER FOUR MONTHS: ALL BUT ONE VICTIM OF DORADO HUMAN TRAFFICKING FOUND. ❞

❝ (Y/N) (L/N): ONE LOST TO THE SEAS OF EUROPE. ❞

“It’s been ten years, (Y/N)!” Sombra exclaimed.

“Everyone was found except you!”

“Oli—”

“They took you away!”

“—Please—”

“You never came back!”

“—Listen—“

“Everyone believed you died—“

“Olivia! ”

Sombra went quiet.

“I couldn’t afford to be found.”

You explained that in you were one of the first to be sent away. A notorious European company had bought you for your expertise in hacking, and after being debriefed you found out they planned for you to get them into many powerful companies and banks for their own benefit. You managed to escape before you were subjected into anything that would compromise your safety. You lived off hacking and programming, while also keeping a low profile so as to not attract attention.

“I really did try to reach you, but you were quite busy ‘hacking everyone’ and finding out who ‘runs the world’,” you said, your voice becoming quieter as you let on.

“I was—No, I am proud that you are up there, being the best of the best, finding out the truth of this world, doing all this…”

You rubbed the back of your neck, a habit that she knew you always did when you were upset.

“But I was also afraid that the girl I knew had forgotten me.”

“Idiot , how could I forget you?” Sombra hissed.

“Why wouldn’t you?” you said with a bitter smile.

“You were a natural at computers. Back in Los Muertos, you aided the revolution. You were the one that had managed to get into Commissioner Rivera’s system. You found the conspiracy and managed to fully wipe out your identity before they could attack…”

You held out your hand by the screen, and Sombra did the same.

“I can’t compare to you.”

You were in deep thought, and the longer Sombra looked at you, the more memories of your time together flooded in: the first time you had kissed in celebration of her first big infiltration, the day that you had asked to be hers just after narrowly getting caught by white-hat hackers, the day that you had first approached her by the alleyway with a laptop in hand, asking if she wanted to know how to do more with it.

“You never give yourself credit,” she laughed, shaking her head.

“You were the one who brought out my gift in hacking, then planned the whole thing with the Commissioner. You helped me clean my identity and pitched in the idea of a cybernetic graft… The only reason I was seen is because you brought me out.”

She put her hand down.

“You could hack into government facilities when you had that shitty laptop. You made programs and systems that many high-security agencies can’t even begin to compete with. You are the only person who can able to completely take down my system in a snap.”

When Sombra stopped, you looked at her in worry.

“Oli?”

“You… you were the only one I had.”

Her vision blurred, and Sombra realized that she was crying. She wasn’t sure when it started, but the more it settled in the stronger the tears flowed. Soon she was hunched over and bawling; all the years of waiting for you just broke right then and there.

It felt both good and painful to finally let it out.

“When you were gone, I-I… I did everything,” she sobbed.

“I hacked through government files about the year’s human traffic incidents, tracked all departing aerial and navy paths in Europe, sought out any transactions that even remotely lead to your name but…”

“Olivia, please look at me.”

A hologram appeared in front of her. Blinking away tears, she skimmed over the text only to realize that it was a file address.

“A pathway,” she said.

“Retrace it to its application,” you offered.

Sombra followed. The window with her old applications came back, and the system automatically highlighted one of the applications.

*ERES-MI-TODO.app

“It’s… the application that we made on our first anniversary,” she whispered.

“Do you remember how I asked you to be my girlfriend?” 

“Dios mío, ” Sombra laughed.

“I was seventeen, you were eighteen, and we almost got caught by white-hat hackers sent by the government.”

You chuckled, “While you were redirecting them back and forth between the neighborhood’s servers, I was hacking into their system to lead them to a virus. We managed in the end, and just as we sent the last guy his way, I asked you on the spot.”

Sombra leaned forward, “Remind me again why you asked me ‘on the spot’.”

“Because if anyone planned to take on one us, they were going to take on the both us.”

She clicked on the application, and it opened up to a series of codes. The program itself wasn’t anything dangerous or serious, just a protocol that was personalized to each of your systems. Back in the day, the two of you used it to send each other information, messages, and even some funny videos. It was just a little getaway that the both of you used when you weren’t there for each other.

“Did you send me anything in the ten years you were gone?” you asked quietly.

Sombra looked down, “Like I said, I thought you were dead.”

“Well, I’m here now.”

The conversation was left at that. As much as her mind wanted to argue with you and to let out all the anger from being left, it wasn’t your fault—it was never your fault. The attack on Los Muertos was unexpected, and no one was prepared to be suddenly taken away. However, it was clear that the both of you held no real malice towards each other, and after a decade this was the most emotionally drained she’s been in a while.

“Could you check the source code for me?”

She took in a deep breath and nodded.

Pulling up the source code, you requested her to scroll through it. Sombra went down the sequence of coding in quick pace, smiling ever so often at specific commands and actions that brought up memories. Sombra also occasionally stole glances at you; you were going through the code yourself.

Once she got to the end, she noticed an extra line of text that hadn’t been there before.

> DEEP IN THE SOURCE CODE OF MY HEART, YOU WERE ALWAYS THERE.

Sombra hid her face in her hands, “You were always the romantic in this relationship.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but this time due to the happiness that swelled up in her chest. It wasn’t a joke, you were really alive (albeit through a screen, one way of knowing you were well was better than nothing). When Sombra wiped away some tears to look at you, she was met with a very loving gaze. She could stare at you all day and never get tired, and you would do the same.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“Damn it,” you cursed, turning away. Sombra frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

You brought up a red hologram

[ TRACKER ATTEMPTS: 132. ]

[ BLOCKED: 87. REROUTED: 45. ]

“I’m now holding more internationally-classified information than ever,” you explained, swiping away the screen.

“Staying online on a video chat isn’t recommended due to people possibly tracking our servers. I have to go.”

“But I don’t want you to go,” Sombra mumbled.

She knew it was selfish to ask for more time; not only did you take all of her information which was being sought out by many, but you most probably had the same, or an even bigger amount of data on your side.

But how would you feel if you suddenly meet your supposedly-dead partner after ten years only for them to leave again?

You smiled.

Sombra’s cybernetics lit up, and after opening her palm a small screen came up. It was a file of different ways to contact you, from encrypted phone numbers to personalized messaging applications made by you. On the top of the list was thd application; Sombra knew exactly which one to use.

“I’m more or less free on weekends. Maybe we can meet up?” you asked.

“When we do, I’m gonna make sure to give you a piece of my mind for doing all of this!” she threatened playfully.

You raised your hands up in defense, “Information is power, and I needed to get it someway for the line of work I’m doing.”

“You’d do it to.”

You’re always right , Sombra thought as she smiled.

She didn’t mind that you took her information; she knew that if you had asked her, only a fraction of what she had would be given, and even then some of the data would be tampered or changed either for the sake of your safety, or just because she wanted to have more than you.

“What is your ‘line of work’ exactly?” she inquired, watching as you worked away.

You gave Sombra the same silence at the start and a knowing smile.

“Some things are better left for another time.”

Sombra rolled her eyes as you gave her a two-finger salute.

“Bye, Oli. Te amo .”

“Yo también te amo .”

[ CALL ENDED ]

Sombra’s system started up again once the video chat’s hologram went down. The programmer went through the networks and servers that had been used within the exchange of the call, but all traces of anything that was sent was gone. None of her applications and systems were obstructed; if anything, all of them had been upgraded.

A pop-up message appeared.

[ VIEW UPDATE_LOG.txt FOR ALL CHANGES IN THE SYSTEM. ]

She closed the tab and proceeded to look for the file. Once it was opened, Sombra couldn’t help but smile at the first line.

> Thank you for waiting. - (Y/N)

“… Thank you for keeping your promise,” she replied, scrolling down to read on.

[megamanxfanfics]

S.V - Ep. 16: Intervention of Destiny

----------------------------------------------------------

INT. ZERO SPACE – Zero’s Lair – DAY

----------------------------------------------------------

The logo of Dr. Wily is prominently displayed in the background as it glows from red to purple.  Zero slightly levitates above the floor with his Ominous Virus power and looks down at X.  He observes his darker image in the black and gold Ultimate Armor and smiles.

ZERO: ............X...I'm very happy now...I've never been so happy...

X: ............

ZERO: Just look at us! We’re both in our peak forms, at the top of our Game.  Nothing can stop us!!

X narrows his eyes.

X: …Except each other…

Zero grins and nods to X with respect.

ZERO: My mind is becoming very clear... as though I have known everything... I don't care about the Mavericks anymore... Or the Prophecy…  I just need to do one thing...

X: …And what’s that…?

ZERO: Destroy Sigma!

X’s eyes widen, surprised.  He was not expecting to hear that.

X: …What?

ZERO: That is the mission!  We still have to finish him off, don’t we?

X: (cautious) Zero... you are Zero, aren't you...?

He makes a familiar, irksome smile.

ZERO: We’ve already been through this...The energy readings are still the same...and there is no Maverick reading, is there...? You are reading my normal data. This is my true form...

X: …You've been consumed by the virus and yet...  You’re starting to sound like your old self…

X blinks, confused and takes a deep breath.

ZERO: Heheh…  I was never consumed…  I Am the Virus!

X widens his eyes and shakes his head in disapproval.

ZERO: From the moment I woke from my Host Pod years ago, he has evaded me and avoided death. Part of my DNA infected him and caused him to become far stronger than he ever should have been.

X: And now most of his DNA made YOU stronger than you’re supposed to be!!

Zero gives him a smug smirk.

ZERO: Maybe… But that still doesn’t change anything.

X: IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!

[Insert Title Card – Intervention of Destiny]

ZERO: Let’s face it.  Until now, neither of us has been able to fully destroy him.  It’s time to rectify that mistake.

X: And what about us..? What about all that before, huh??

X points back and forth to himself and Zero, then he cricks his neck.

X: You were vey quick to write me off as an enemy a few hours ago, so what changed!?  Did I knock some sense into you??

ZERO: Heheheheh, Hahahahah!!!! The Prophecy is still unfulfilled, but I realized… I don’t really care about that anymore. This is My Life.  No one else’s.  Not the Hunters, not Sigma’s, not my Creator’s.. and certainly not yours…  

X nods with a scowl while clenching a fist.

ZERO: …We may be destined to kill each other; you - the Ultimate Creation of Light, and me – the last of Wily’s numbers… But despite all that, I’ve been thinking…  Maybe there’s a reason why you just won’t Die. Perhaps we were always meant to converge.

X: Hm!?

ZERO: …I could use someone like you on my Team. If we take down Sigma together for good this time, we can rebuild this Colony and form a Regime of our own.  

X: Huh? What do you mean…?

ZERO: It’s chaotic out there, X. I can feel the Virus levels of Earth’s citizens coursing throughout this World.  The people are lost and angry.  They’re going to need a real Leader to rein them in, and Sigma… is not it.

X: …Neither are you….  Why not let the Maverick Hunters do their job???

ZERO: Hahahah, Maverick!? This isn’t an issue of Mavericks, X!  We are embarking upon a New World, where soon… there won’t be such a thing as Mavericks, or Irregulars.  It will just become the Norm.  And once all of our instincts align, then we’ll achieve true peace.

X: So you mean to tell me that you’d just let the Humans and Uninfected Reploids die!??

ZERO: We failed these People, X. It’s survival of the fittest for them, now.  And whoever comes out on top, I’ll make sure that they all fall in line!

X vehemently shakes his head.

X: Absolutely not!!  I won’t let you!!!

ZERO: Then you’re in my way!!!! Last warning: You can either stand with me or against me!!  But whatever the outcome, Sigma dies tonight!!!!

X: That… may be the only thing we agree about, but this still isn’t you…  Your data readings...... they’re the same as Zero used to be...but... your motivations are impure… You cannot be seen or analyzed correctly as data anymore. You taught me that, Zero. There’s something evil within you...! Similar to Sigma... Or should I say, even worse than Sigma!?

ZERO: DON’T compare me to that Parasite!!!

X: Even though his virus infected you, you’ve never been damaged! You have only become more powerful since the infection; too powerful, in fact!! I cannot allow this to go on any longer... Zero... I don't want to lose you... but I'm really worried about you......

ZERO: Hmph… There you go again, showing your big heart… That is your kindness and your weakness…  I don’t have time for this…

X narrows his eyes.  

X: Sigma has changed you, and played us against each other! That's why I have to fight even harder and bring you back.

ZERO: Hm!?  ...Then I don't need to give you more explanations...!

X: I'll destroy you, whoever you are, and bring back the true Zero!

ZERO: Hmph!!!

Zero dashes into X, who charges up, but cannot hit him in time.  Zero gets the first attack with a Z-saber slash to the chest.

X: Agh..

X is pushed back from the attack, but he is surprised how unfazed he is by the saber.  This Ultimate Armor was stronger than he remembered.  With his charge-cycle complete, he instinctively pulls up his Buster and tests the Plasma Shot. It immediately knocks Zero down to the floor.

ZERO: Ogh!! No. You won’t defeat me!!!

He gets right back up, defiantly.

X: This isn’t about defeating you. Its about purging that virus from your system!

X runs after Zero with a glowing fist.  He tries to punch him in the gem, but Zero catches his wrist.

ZERO: Uh uh uh…

He blasts him directly in the stomach with a fully charged Z-Buster.

X: Auuughh…

X is knocked against the far wall.

ZERO: Two can play at that game…

X favors his stomach as Zero simply taunts him with a grin and a flickering open palm.

ZERO: Come on, X.  We haven’t even gotten started.

He allows X to get up, who smirks at the challenge.

X: You’re right…  Lets see what we can really do.

-cut to-

----------------------------------------------------------

INT. FALLEN COLONY – Sigma’s Lair - DAY

----------------------------------------------------------

SIGMA: Muahahahahahah!  This is perfect…

He folds his arms as he eagerly watches his monitor with interest.

SIGMA: Now I’ll finally see who is the Strongest Hunter…

-We pan to the monitor and zoom in-

-pan to-

----------------------------------------------------------

INT. ZERO SPACE – Zero’s Lair - DAY

----------------------------------------------------------

X slips a special chip into his X-Buster, while Zero charges up again.

Zero shoots two new, heavy blasts from his Z-Buster that resemble that of a buzz-saw.

The attack frightens X and causes him to kick-jump up the wall for safety.

ZERO: Hah!  Coward…

With a swipe of his blade, he manipulates the wind-gust of his slash to trail into X and knock him down.

X: (hurt) Aghh!  One cannot wield so much power and sustain it!  Why do you think I get rid of all the weapons after every mission?  All those armors…?

X tests out the Ultimate buster chip.  Without effort, he fires his large Plasma Shot into Zero, which engulfs his side and chips away at Zero’s armor.

ZERO: Gaawww!!

The blast chips his left shoulder piece.  No longer does it bear the Z logo it once did.  

X: Your power is going to Kill you, Zero!  And I won’t let that happen.

His armor shifts into dark green, where he unleashes a Super Double Cyclone into Zero.

ZERO: GHHAAAAAAHHHH…

Zero is shoved against the wall, winded.

ZERO: (coughing) Kuugh, no, instead you’ll just kill me, right? Heheh..

Zero’s armor shifts into black as he powers up even further.

ZERO: (continuing) …at least you TRIED!!!!!

He dash-jumps right next to X and slams his fist into the ground.  His enhanced Giga Attack erupts the entire room with waves of dark energy that crash into X and cause him to go down. His new Ultimate Armor just received its first battle scars as X closes his eyes and turns his head.  

ZERO: (smiling) Hmph.

He gives X a respectful nod as he rises to his feet.  Then, he turns around and starts to walk away.

X: (faint) …Hey…

ZERO: Hm?

He turns around to see X, back up on his feet with a golden aura surrounding his dark armor.

X: You can’t get rid of me that easily!

In an instant, he unleashes the Nova Strike, which propels him into a swift air-dash, surrounded by atomic light energy.

Zero’s mouth is agape as the bright figure of his old friend bashes into him.

ZERO: AAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!

X returns the favor as his Nova Strike crashes against Zero’s Virus barrier and shatters it.  The power singes Zero’s chest as X air-tackles him.  When the Nova Strike dissipates, X grabs him by the neck and forces him down to the floor, pressing his other hand against Zero’s gem.

Zero cringes and struggles while X concentrates on powering up his own hand.  

ZERO: Grrr…  Ungghh.. That’s not gonna.. Work!

Zero grabs X’s wrist and forms a buster with the other hand.  He then, impales X in the ribs with his Thunder God Attack.

X: Ooooh….

X stays down, curled up into the fetal position as Zero slowly gets to his feet.  He shakes off the pain, annoyed.

ZERO: Damn, dude.  You really do pack a wallop.  …Why don’t you just join me?  We’re wasting time!

X favors his bloody side, as he activates a sub-tank.

X: (panting, recovering) I…  could say the same thing…

ZERO: Hmph.

Knowing X just used a supplement, he does not hesitate to fire his buzz-saw blasts at him again.

X: Hah!!

He immediately jumps and air-dashes out of the way.  With renewed energy, he flips over and lands a drop kick to Zero’s face.  

ZERO: Ooof..

X: How do you like that?

X takes two swings at Zero, which he easily dodges. Then, his virus barrier goes up again. Zero easily retreats with a back-dash and levitates away.

ZERO: Hmph.  Fool...

He takes out his Z-Saber.

ZERO: I’m /BEYOND this now!!!

At the dash, Zero /slashes a huge dark wave of energy from his saber, which scares X.

With a gasp, he turns black and yellow and releases a Super Twin Slasher out of desperation.  The giant power slashes cancel each other out, which enrages Zero.

ZERO: Daamn yoouu!!

Zero rushes over to X in a rage, flies up and performs a flaming stab from his Z-Saber

X’s eyes widen as he thinks fast.  He uses a Super Goo Shaver barrage of ice blocks to knock Zero away.  X, then advances with an air-dash as he summons a wave of Super Frost Tower spikes.

One by one the giant ice spikes multiply and crash down on Zero, around the room.      

X pants as he looks down at Zero with regret.

X: Give it up, Zero...  Come on.

Out of nowhere, X is surprise attacked by an after-image of Zero.

X: Auugh

ZERO: You’d like that, wouldn’t you!?

Zero dashes into him and performs a Shippuga slash.

X bends down, favoring his stomach again.

ZERO: Hahahaha.

He grabs X by the head and knees him in the face.

X: Khaa!!

X retaliates with a Super Rising Fire Uppercut, which catches him off-guard.  From mid-air, X doubles down with a Super Ground Fire wave, which blasts Zero back against the wall.

X & ZERO: AAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!

When the fire dies down, Zero flies right into him again and the two grapple once more.  With gritted teeth, they butt heads. X’s new helmet is much stronger than Zero’s, causing him to falter and release his hold. Then, X can see the damage he’s done.

Zero wavers a few steps back until he re-gathers himself. Blood trickles down his cheeks as he points at X, weakened.

ZERO: (wounded) You would NEVER be this powerful without the help of your precious Dr. Light.  

X: I already told you, I’ll do whatever it takes to win! And I’m not through yet!!

ZERO: Hmph...I don’t need any upgrades to defeat you…

X: You’ve received enough of one already...

He blasts Zero in the chest with a Super F-Laser, which burns a hole through his plating and carves quite a scar across his under-armor.

ZERO: Ourghh.. Daamn, you...

X: (continuing) I’m gonna undo what Sigma made you... and…whoever that is.

X points at the Dr. W logo in the background.

ZERO: His name, was Wily!  

Zero bashes another Messenko Giga Attack across the room.  X back-dashes in an attempt to evade it, but still gets knocked around by the waves of blasts. He decides to counter with a Crescent Forcefield and dash into Zero.

ZERO: Agh!!

Zero levitates upwards.

X uses his thrusters to hover in mid-air.  He grabs Zero by the chest and lets his Forcefield carve more scars into his dented armor.  He punches Zero in the face, sternum and gut before his thrusters cease and he is forced to land. Upon touching down, he shoots a Plasma Shot at Zero, turns yellow and catches Zero in a Super Lightning Web.

ZERO: (shocked, struggling) Grr..aarrghhh...

X doubles down with strikes of Super Tri-Thunder, which clash right against Zero, knocking him down through the Lightning Web. He cancelled out his own attack, but it was worth it.  Zero was smoking.  He could sense the Virus around him, fading.

Zero starts to hurt as much as X had before.  He covers his swelling head and curls up, showing a rare sign of vulnerability. His Armor fades from black to red.

ZERO: (v.o, thinking) Damn it.  This is not good!

An idea comes to Zero as X walks over to him.  

X: Hey...  Are you alright?

ZERO: I... think so...  H-help me up...

X’s eyes widen, as he immediately drops his guard and holds out his hand.

ZERO: Hehe.. FOOL!!!!!

Zero immediately uppercuts him with a flaming Ryuenjin slash, which burns X at the chest and knocks him down.

ZERO: /Hahahah. /HAHAH!!!

Zero blasts him twice with two buzz-saw blasts and both catch him, causing direct explosions against his armor.

X: AAAGGHH HAAARRRGGHH!!!!  HOW DARE YOU!!?

Irate and damaged, X rises up from the destruction and jumps after him with brown-tinted armor.

In mid-air he summons a Super Soul Body, which creates 5 after images of X.  All of them air-dash into Zero at different angles, and knock him back down.

ZERO: Waaaaaaagggghhhhh!!!!! 

X capitalizes on his punishment with a Plasma Shot that blows a hole through his ribs.  

ZERO: Aaaaghhhh!!!!!

X: You’re beaten, Zero. Lets call it even.

ZERO: (stubborn) It’s not over yet...

He Hisuisho air-dashes back up, knocking into X, who falters back a few steps.

Zero proceeds to furiously punch X in the face, the side of his head and then his chest, but X blocks it. X blocks another punch aimed at his stomach and shoves Zero away.

X heel-kicks him in the head, but Zero catches his foot and pushes X down to the floor.

Zero lifts up his saber, but X shoots the hilt straight out of his hand.  Annoyed, Zero shoots at X with a full Z-buster blast, directly to the chest.

X: (surprised) Ahhh!

ZERO: (smirking) Gotcha…

X: No ya don’t...

From the ground, X lets out another Super Soul Body attack, which Zero manages to dodge and analyze as he evades the attack with glowing eyes.  Zero picks his saber back up as he runs away.

X gets up, dashes behind him and punches Zero in the lower back.  It was not like X to fight dirty, but at this point, it was do or die.

ZERO: Agh!  

Zero elbows X directly in the forehead.  He turns around and shoots X three times with huge white blasts.

X: (in pain) Ghaaawww…

The powerful buster shots feel worse by the moment, but X rises to his feet, knowing that this pain was nothing compared to the pain Zero caused all those people for so many years.  Indirectly or not, Zero was still responsible for everything.  Maybe the Prophecy was true.  Maybe everything was going to end tonight.

X clenches a fist as it starts to glow blue.

ZERO: Come on X!!  What are you gonna do now!?

X: If I can’t save you... thenI… am going to finish you!

The two run after each other.  X’s inner-power swells as a golden aura surrounds his body once again.  While maintaining a glowing blue fist, X takes flight.

X: NOOOVVVAAAA STRIIIIIIIKE!!!!!!!

Zero stares at X carefully and his gem flashes white.

ZERO: TWIN DREAM!!!!

Zero announces a new attack as he creates a Soul Body, after-image of his own, which strikes at in the heart with a soul saber, just as hard as Zero’s physical saber clashes against X’s Nova-powered body.

ZERO: HUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

X: AAAAAAAAAAaaaahhhhh!!!!

The two fall, parallel to each other, head-to-foot.

X spits out blood as he lands from their attack.

His body immediately powers down.  His Ultimate Armor relinquishes itself and reverts back to his Base Armor.

Zero’s body equally shows no trace of the Virus, as he pants and sweats in his red armor.

They both writhe in pain, immobile on the floor.

X: Aaaggghhh! I thought I won... I didn't expect you to do that... I never expected you to use Soul Body... Ohhh...I'm losing...consciousness...

Zero puts his hand over his aching heart.

ZERO: ...Uh, Ugh......X, X...

X just lies there, unconscious.

X: …......

ZERO: …......

After a long lapse of silence Sigma fades into the room with two fists full of energy.

SIGMA: … Ha ha ha...  You’ve done very well, X...  I will make your end easy!!

Zero looks on, annoyed at Sigma.

ZERO: ...NO, I won’t allow you to! I know everything you’re trying to do!

He jumps in front of X and guards him.

SIGMA: Then, be a good boy and just die!

Sigma blasts Zero with both arms, creating a huge explosion that tears him apart.  Immediately, he is swept away from the blast.

ZERO: (struggling, resisting) ...Uh, Uwaaaaa!  ...X...X... Please survive...!  ...Survive!  X...  Live... for... me...

Zero’s body is ripped in half, as he falls right at X’s side.

With his wires exposed at the torso, Zero is helpless to defeat.

Sigma looks down at his contemporary and frowns at what could have been.

SIGMA: You’d almost fully evolved into your true self...  It’s a shame you didn’t quite make it, Zero.  You had so much potential.  Oh well.. Farewell!

He walks over to X and smiles.

SIGMA: Well...  it is only you and me now… X - The strongest Reploid!  Bwah ha ha!

X: (hurt, weak) …......  ...I’m...losing my strength... and......energy...  I... can’t... see any...thing... ...Ze... Zero... Don’t... leave... Please... stand... by... me... ...I’ll... protect... you... Zero...

X passes out with a whisper in despair.

SIGMA: Awww, isn’t that sweeet...  Come...  It is time we made our preparations...

He bends down and hoists X over his shoulder.  Then he looks down at Zero with a scowl.

SIGMA: Hmph. I will let you live this time. But I won’t be so kind next time you try to betray me. And there WILL be a next time, won’t there, boy...?  Hee hee hee...  

He grabs what little remains of Zero’s body and teleports away with them.

-cut to-

----------------------------------------------------------

INT.  FALLEN COLONY – Sigma's Lair – DAY

----------------------------------------------------------

Sigma appears in the middle of his lair, with X and Zero in hand.  He positions one under each arm as he carries them both to two broken Pods.  One is blue and the other is red.  These are their Host Pods, retrieved from the Forbidden Place – the area in which both X and Zero were first discovered.

SIGMA: Rest up, boys. We have a World to control.

He grins as he places them both in their respective pods.

SIGMA: See you soon…!

-Freezeframe. Grainy effect-

-Fade to Black-

[shsl-shipper-gamer-fangirl]

Trigger Happy Persona AU

What do you do in the face of ultimate despair? You get freaking pissed off and awaken your persona! Play as Hajime [codename “Ace”] who seems average at first until he awakens his second persona and becomes Izuru [codename “Blackjack”]. But the game isn’t complete without the strength of bonds and so enter Chiaki [codename “Bonnie”] who seems aloof by nature until she rips off her mask and summons an 8-bit spaceship!

**Please DO NOT edit, use, or repost any of these! Thank you!

HOLD UP! 

More AU concept art [thank you @likhangjosa] and info dump under the cut!!

Chiaki Nanami Codename: Usami or Bonnie Arcana: Star

Mask: Pink and covers the upper part of her face, with long bunny ears on top, down to a bunny nose with whiskers

Outfit: Sci-fi magical girl look with the color scheme of white, pink, and blue-grey. Wears a hoodie-cardigan (that has holes for the bunny ears to go through) and a Galaga ship (or Usami logo) embroidered on the chest. Sports a flowing translucent galaxy print circle skirt, knee-high boots with leggings and white gloves. Has a pink cat-like backpack where she stores her weapons and gaming consoles. The look is complete with a cottontail clipped on her belt.

Persona: Galaga (8-bit ship get wrekt) Skillset: Strong gun and bless attacks but weak to curse Weapons: Two-handed hammer and minigun

All-Out Attack Card: "Game Over" written in bit font and with videogame style background. Her catchphrase would be "New highscore!"

Awakening Scene: Galaga: Is that the hope that you fight for? Doesn't it seem meaningless in the face of adversity? After all, what's the point if people just betray you in the end?

Chiaki: Even if I'm betrayed again, I still want to believe in everyone. No matter how many times I may be betrayed...I still want to believe in everyone!

Galaga: Despite the despair thrown in your face, you show unwavering faith. That trust is something that you'll need... as well as my blessing. I am thou, thou art I... A better future is waiting for you but in order to reach it you must trust that it is indeed possible.

Chiaki: As long as I believe, things will turn out okay! Let's show them, Galaga!

Quotes: "That was easy. Shall we get going Hajime?" "I could *yawn* go for a nap right now..." "Yosh, I leveled up!" “New skill unlocked! Let’s test it out ASAP!” "A treasure chest! *zelda sfx*" "Move! I've always wanted to open a treasure chest!" "A safe room. Let's take it easy and save first, alright?" “Dungeon crawling never gets old especially in RPGs.” "I feel like I can do a speedrun on this dungeon." “I don’t mind overdoing it a bit.” "Sorry, my stamina stat is running low." "There's a nearby enemy. Grind mode?" “*metal gear solid alert! sfx* We’ve been spotted!” or “Stealth mode blown!” "I felt the LVL gap in that." “Don’t worry, we’re already OP.” "I think we need more EXP to defeat that." “Better prepare so that we don’t get a BAD END.” “*yawn* Where’s Hard Mode?” “Victory! Isn’t this the part where we’re supposed to do a pose?”

*BATON PASS!* "Usami/Bonnie hopping in!" *PROTECT* "Ace! Look out!" *ENDURE* "I... don't want to die!" *PERSONA!* "Summoning reinforcement, Galaga!" *Follow Up* "How about a combo?" *Cover Fire* "Need some support?" *Harisen Recovery* "Don't give in!" or "You're stronger than this!" *low on health* "I'll be fine... probably." *healing someone* "Don't lose hope!" or "You've got this!" *getting healed* "Thanks for the heal!" *giving buffs* "This will make us stronger, I think." *physical attacks* "It's Hammer time!", "I'll smash you flat!", "Time to knock you out of the park!" *attacking* "We'll beat you for sure!" *attack misses* “Accuracy stats are… off?” *couldn't finish off enemy* "I believe you can do this!" *fainting* "I'm sorry... I wanted to protect everyone, no matter what the cost." *getting resurrected* “Thanks, I needed that extra life.”

*status ailment* "Maybe a quick nap can fix this..." Burn: "I'm overheating! Somebody turn on the AC!" Freeze: “Brrr, it’s too c-cold! Is the thermostat broken again?” Shock: "Need... to turn... the rumble off...!" Forget: "Am I a boy...? Or a girl...?" Charm: “Friendly fire mode on.” Rage: “I’ll button mash you to pieces!” Despair: "The difficulty level... it's too high...!" Hunger: "Did I forget to eat again...?" Dizzy: "My controls are all messed up...!" Sleep: “Zzz… Recharging batteries... zzz…” Silence: ... Mouse: "Squeak~!"

Mementos chats: "Ace is a really good driver. If only racing game skills could transfer to real life..." “Maybe I should start naming my combo attacks…” “Sometimes I wish this was one of those games with unlimited ammo.” “This accessory looks ridiculous but it lets me dodge my weakness so I’m not complaining.” “Games are fun but slaying shadows is fun in its own way too.” “Being a Dangan Thief is like a videogame fantasy… but in real life!” “Real life is the True Hard Mode because the stats are invisible. But that’s okay since we know it’s not Impossible Mode.”

Chiaki: What we’re doing feels like we’re in a videogame. Hajime: It’s a good thing that you’re the Ultimate Gamer then.

Chiaki: Do you ever stop to think if we’re all just trapped in some game? Hajime: No, next question.

Chiaki: *stomach growls* Hajime: Were you so busy playing that you forgot to eat again?

Chiaki: *yawns* Wake me up when we run into a Shadow... or something. Hajime: Did you pull another all-nighter over videogames again?

Chiaki: I run out of money too fast. I had to pre-order another game last night on top of the ones I ordered just the other night. Hajime: Hey, I know we make a lot of money but please don’t spend it all on videogames.

Chiaki: It’s a disappointing that electronic devices don’t work in the cognitive world. Hajime: Don’t you already play enough videogames in real life?

Chiaki: All this Dangan Thieves stuff is cutting into my schedule. Thankfully I’ve compromised with my other priorities and my gaming hours are still untouched. Hajime: Is that why you’ve been dozing off more often? Please tell me you’re at least getting enough sleep because this can’t be healthy.

--------------

Hajime Hinata Codename(s): Ahoge  Ace, Blackjack, Dealer

*NOTE: Instead of having multiple personas, Hajime only has one and a second dormant persona. Consequently, whenever he changes persona, he also changes mask and outfit (and personality?) and codename. [e.g. Hajime accidentally summons Izuru, from Ace he becomes Blackjack.]

Codename: Ace Arcana: Fool or Judgement Mask: White domino mask with card aesthetic. The suites displayed change according to the skill type used. [e.g. Spades for physical, Club for elemental, Diamonds for almighty, Hearts for healing and buffs, Joker for status ailment] Outfit: Simple black tailcoat, white inner shirt, matching black formal pants and monk strap shoes. Emerald necktie and gloves. Persona: [starting and only] ??? Skillset: Strong slash and (surprisingly) curse attacks and weak against bless All-Out Attack Card: “Royal Flush” written with a casino table in the background. Catchphrase is “Keep your cards close to your chest!”

Codename: Blackjack Arcana: Death Mask: Plague doctor mask and his red eyes glow through the glass lenses Outfit: Maroon steampunk trench coat with a spine designed on the back and black cuffs and fancy cravat. Inner shirt is black with a textile print and large buttons. Bright red gloves, black trousers and Cuban heeled boots. Persona: [dormant unlockable] Izuru Kamukura Skillset: Strong for all types of attacks except bless skills which is the only weakness. Null physical attacks. All-Out Attack Card: “Card Counter” written with a house of cards in the background. Catchphrase is “How boring…”

Codename: Dealer Arcana: The World Mask: Black bird-shaped mask but the sides of the frame look like wings Outfit: [He has the same spiky hair but white and his eyes are heterochromatic.] White long sleeves with red cuffs, red vest, black bow tie and slacks. Black wingtips for shoes and white gloves. Persona: [hidden ultimate fusion] Hinazuru Skillset: Master of all types attacks. Repel physical and null bless/curse skills All-Out Attack Card: “Wild Card” written with scattered cards and poker chips in the background. Catchphrase is “This is the future that we want!”

Weapons: Dual wield daggers and dual wield pistols

>>>Special thanks to @crazynoodles69 for being a tarot card master and divining Chiaki’s arcana. GIVE IT UP FOR MY SIS WHO WENT ALONG AND DREW AMAZING STUFF FOR THIS. The actual lore happened because @ponsay-de-leon and I had too much fun. Then because I am a monster who has no common sense of liking anything in moderation, this happened. 

Feel free to add on and have fun with this AU!

[lightshadowverisimilitude]

Resonance 1/?

In response to my Stony Bingo square “soulmates.” Challengers @xxluluelix​ and @gnomeicecream​

While planning/plotting this, it got very big - most likely it will be a fairly short story arc for Bingo, but eventually it will be an epic on AO3. I’m super excited about it! Thanks to @arukou-arukou​ and @gnomeicecream​ for helping me figure it out! 

Mind the cut!

The sense of wrong hit Steve before he even opened his eyes, but he wasn’t sure why. He breathed slowly and tried to work it out, but there were a lot of things that were immediately – though subtly – off. He was in a hospital bed. Easy enough to recognize from all the time he’d spent there as a kid, but the bed was long enough for him to be stretched out completely flat. He hadn’t been able to lay flat in a bed since before the serum.

At the sound of traffic and honking horns, he turned his head to look out the window. The familiar press of New York buildings was just outside, but something about the view looked wrong. The air through the open window smelled weird. A radio was playing softly on the sideboard, and even that sounded strange. Too clear, and too familiar. He put it down to déjà vu as he sat up and looked around. He was wearing an SSR t-shirt that stretched too tight across his chest. Even the material felt strange.

The last thing he remembered was nosing The Valkyrie down into the water.

The door opened and a woman stepped into the room. Just like the rest of the surroundings, she was subtly off. He watched her carefully as she smiled and crossed from the door, her faint resonance tone growing louder as she neared. She had a tone like no one he’d ever known. Something about it reminded him of Tesla coils and Howard’s strange devices. Her tone clashed so hard with his that it was actively repulsive. He found himself leaning away from her, and her smile faltered.

She started to speak, but Steve’s pulse abruptly rose to overwhelm everything except the sound of their dissonant tones clashing – that was what had been wrong all this time. It wasn’t what was there, it was what wasn’t. His head was empty. There was no note of Bucky’s steady thrum, or Peggy’s heavy pulsing beat, none of the Commandos’ cacophony of tones. His bonds were all achingly, terrifyingly quiet.

Steve stood up abruptly. The girl jumped. “Who are you?” Steve demanded. He heard it when her tone overlaid with a fast shriek of fright, but her uneasiness just made him positive that something fishy was going on. “Where am I?”

“C-Captain Rogers…” she said, taking a step back from him even as she tried to smile comfortingly. “Please calm down.”

The radio broadcast caught his attention again, and he realized that it wasn’t just déjà vu. The broadcast was familiar because he’d been at that game. Ignoring the girl and her stammering platitudes, he examined the room again – everything was fake, every bit of it staged. Over the thunder of his pulse and the aching absence of his soulbonds, he could hear other noises beyond the walls. They had the echoing quality of being in a very large space with very high ceilings. The walls were obviously thin – he could see where they’d been joined together like the plywood panels of a stage set.

Backing away from the woman – whoever she was, Nazi infiltrator or spy – Steve ran at one of the walls between the seams where the panels had been joined. He broke through it like tearing through paper, startling dozens of people on the other side. He was barefoot, but it didn’t matter. Steve ran, baffled by the facility. It looked like nothing he’d ever seen, not in New York, not in Europe, not on the Hydra bases. He ended up on the street of some kind of bustling metropolis with strange cars whizzing by. People jumped out of his way as he plowed through the crowds. Everything was so loud. The usual background hum of resonate tones in crowded spaces was overwhelming. Everywhere he turned, dozens of unfamiliar tones shrieked at him, all of them clashing again his own. He felt dizzy and sick to his stomach. After the initial escape from the facility, he wasn’t even running from anyone – he was running from everyone.

(keep reading)

The familiar shape of Times Square finally brought him to a halt. He stared at it all in horror, turning useless circles. Ads playing actual resonate tones thundered above him, all the people with their clamoring tones, the cars, the impossibly bright, clear lights making the ads glow. Giant black automobiles like small, sleek tanks converged on him, and he didn’t even try to run. He was in New York, or dreaming, or this was someone’s version of the afterlife. Where was he supposed to run to?

“You’ve been asleep for a while, Cap,” a tall Black man in a billowing leather jacket told him. He had a dozen armored people behind them, and more were pouring out of the surrounding tanks.

Steve searched his grizzled face for a clue to what was going on. “Where…?” he asked, and nearly threw up when the man told him he was home. “The war?”

“We won. Come back with me, and we’ll get you straightened out.”

Straightened out. The phrase made him flinch automatically. He took a hesitant step backwards. The armed people all tensed. He was in some hellscape’s reimagining of ‘home’ and every tone around him screamed with foreign music. His bonds were all gone – there would be no Bucky coming around the corner, summoned by Steve distress, no Peggy striding out of the alley with her handgun out in front of her. He was alone.

“My name is Nick Fury,” the man said. He didn’t offer his hand, but he came close enough for Steve to hear his tone. Slow, steady, measured, and undercut but a resounding bass pulse that Steve could feel in his bones. They didn’t resonate, but they didn’t clash either.

Steve hesitated. “What year is it?” he asked without wanting to know the answer. He knew that whatever year it was, it was a year that didn’t have Peggy or Bucky or his Commandos in it. “How long?”

Fury watched him carefully with his one eye, head tipped slightly like a birds to bring Steve into focus. “Seventy years, Cap.”

The world went fuzzy around the edges. He felt himself swaying. How could he possibly make sense of seventy years? How could he still be standing? He looked down at his hands. They were just like he remembered them, smooth and strong, free from even the faintest of scars.

Clenching his hands into fists, he looked up. “How?”

Fury turned his body to make an inviting gesture back toward one of the giant automobiles. “Come with me, and we’ll get it figured out.”

Steve looked around again. He had no idea who Fury was, or what kind of organization he belonged to. They’d already tried to trick him once. The spectacle had gathered a crowd and people were watching them curiously, but the armored people who’d jumped out of the cars were holding the onlookers back. No one seemed especially confused by their presence, and they were reacting as if these black-clad people were police of some kind. S.H.I.E.L.D was stamped on the side on of the vehicles in a very official-looking gray logo.

Following his gaze, Fury explained, “SHIELD is what the SSR became after you… well. Margaret Carter and Howard Stark had a reason for the name, I guess.” He nodded respectfully toward Steve.

The names punched a deep hole in him. He felt his shoulders slumping. Even if these people were tricking him, even if they meant him some kind of harm, what did it matter? Not even the shallow bond he’d had with Howard was still there. He had no one to fight for anymore.

Nodding jerkily, he followed Fury’s gesture to the vehicle and let a man in black body armor open the door for him.

[jacobmayhewsjournals-blog]

And so DOKKA was born…

DOKKA are a new acoustic duo tearing up the acoustic scene around Leeds and Derbyshire. With captivating harmonies making audiences put down their pints and turn their heads to witness organic, musical bliss.

I was lucky enough to catch up with DOKKA’s Nancy Brookes to find out what the duo are about, their intentions and how they get stuff done.

The first question had to be, “Where did the name DOKKA come from?”

“Our music is light and easy so we wanted our name to just take the piss. We’re really into Scandinavian music. So we looked at some different Scandinavian languages and found the word dökk which means “dark” in Icelandic. And so DOKKA was born.”

The one thing for sure is that DOKKA’s music is definitely not dark, yet their band name seems to suit them. There is a homemade feel around the band which seems quite simplistic and humble. Rather like Scandinavian living!  

There are a few recordings on the bands soundcloud and a videos of there covers can be found on youtube, the quality of these are very good for such a small time duo, so I asked’ “What is the recording process of your songs?”

To which Nancy gave quite a chuckle. “oh god…we’re going to get crucified for this! We literally have a brew and then play the songs with two overheads and two condenser microphones in Jakes bedroom”

You can find their youtube account at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ov1AA6J7P34 where the raw simplicity is on show with cups of tea and socks in the background of their recordings.

Within the folk/acoustic world there seems to be a general image of casual shirts and jeans, but is this a thought through process or just casual attire that no one really thinks about its just coincidence a lot of acoustic artists dress similar. I wondered what Nancy had to say on the matter.

“Oh it’s definitely still a thing! I think it’s just important to not overdo it otherwise you’ll look like those test tube singers off the X Factor after they’ve all had their makeovers! We haven’t really thought too much about our image…it’s mostly just flannel and coffee stains!”

Their logo is stripped back, nothing too fancy yet the faint unstableness of it intrigues audiences. This does feel like a thought through process, but nothing too overdone. It was created by Nancy herself, she said “I can’t stand these super polished logos that all look the same, they’re easily forgotten.”

A bands sound can be influenced by many artists, so I asked who Nancy was listening to when writing the songs for DOKKA

“We are always listening to new artists but pour go to influences are definitely people like Ben Howard and Bear’s Den. These artists were the bands we bonded over when we first started playing together so it’s nice to revisit them sometimes to “ground” ourselves again. I’m also really loving a dude from Ireland at the moment called Dermot Kennedy, he’s just starting out so he only has a few songs released but I love every single one of them haha! Jake will tell you I never stop banging on about him!”

You can definitely hear the harmonies from bears den in their music and the influence of Ben Howard in the guitar riffs. Its always interesting to see how separate sounds merge into new artists.

There are many ways band write, I wondered if DOKKA’s writing process was as organic as their personas?

“Usually Jake will come up with a good sounding riff and I’ll try and get a feeling from that, then from there I just spew out lyrics and then try to come up with a catchy melody. I don’t really have a set routine if I’m honest I just go with how I feel at the time. I think it’s better that way, the songs come out more raw and genuine.”

Definitely organic!

With a promise of new material I was hoping Nancy would give us an insight into what can be expected from their new records.

“Definitely happier songs, I’m done with writing songs moaning about how shit life is so now I want to write some really good songs that make people feel happy! More electric looped stuff as well, kind of like Ben Howard’s second album but without the grumpiness, Ha!”

Its been interesting to see where artists such as Ben Howard, Ed Sheehan and Mumford and Sons have ended up playing over the past years, with such acoustic artists playing arenas and headlining major festival. Has this set the sights high for DOKKA?

I asked Where would be your dream venue?

“Good question…probably Manchester O2 Academy, its big enough to feel like we’ve made it but cosy enough to fell like we could play our music and make the gig our own.”

This seems like the ideal venue size for a small time band reaching the top, I wish DOKKA all the luck in making it to there.

What was really nice about this interview was the openness and humble approach Nancy gave. there was a slight nervousness which is always lovely to see when the individual is capable of great things, yet it reminds you that they are just human beings with a dream.

You can keep up with DOKKA on Instagram, Facebook, Soundcloud and Youtube at: wearedokka

Upcoming gigs:

Rail Ale Festival 19th May 2017

Oporto Leeds 22nd May 2017

Matlock Folk Festival 8th July 2017

[generalkenobi22]

Charted: Domesticity Stateside - Part 2

It’s been nearly a year since I posted the first part of this series, Charted: Domesticity Stateside, which documented my need for a happy, domestic ending for the Adventure Family even before I played Uncharted 4. Since then, I’ve played U4, let it change me as a person fundamentally, and almost immediately started on a sequel, which after close to a year, I’ve finally completed. So please enjoy Charted: Louisiana, Libertalia, and Lemurs! (Or, the running tally for life after Libertalia goes as follows: one marriage salvaged, two family members gained, and three attempts at trying to convince your wife that a lemur is a suitable house pet.) 

It can also be found here: AO3 - Fanfiction

The move to Louisiana is an exciting and somewhat stressful affair.

The offer for their current house comes in on a Tuesday at the close of the business day in early June. It comes in at a decent amount over their asking price, so even though they haven’t finalized anything on the new home—let alone put in an actual offer yet—Elena assures the realtor on the other end of the phone (through the smile that’s threatening to split her face in two) that she and Nate accept. When Nate hears the news, he spins Elena around, his smile mirroring hers.

“We’ve never had a plan before,” he says in response to her concerns about the timetable for the move. “Why should we start now?”

So Elena hands in her two-weeks to WFTV ABC 9 that Wednesday, much to the disappointment of Gary, who works in editing (“Viewership is gonna go down without you providing a weekly dose of explosions overseas.”), while Nate focuses all of his energy on packing up the inordinate amount of books and artifacts they’ve come to accumulate within the last three years (“How do we have seven copies of The Science of Adventure?”). They try to goad Sully into helping by offering a box of Cubans and a bottle of really good scotch. Eventually, he caves, but only in helping them load the packed boxes into the moving truck (“There’s not enough treasure in the world that could convince me to get in there; Nate’s a damn hoarder.”). They try the same thing for Charlie and Chloe, but they’re both in Berlin, no further details given (“Keep us updated though, will you?”)

Before they know it, Elena takes one last video of the old place—including reactions from Nate and Sully (which she promptly uploads to Instagram, Chloe and Charlie her first two likes)—and they’re traveling down I-12, everything packed and ready for Louisiana.

About an hour into the drive, Elena receives a call with a ‘225’ area code. Over speakerphone, the realtor tells she and Nate that their offer has been accepted, and they’ve barely hung up before Nate comments, “Guess this means we can cancel the hotel arrangements, huh?”

It’s nearly dusk by the time they finally arrive at the new place, legs and arms stiff from the close to ten-hour drive. Once they’ve done the walkthrough of the new place, they make a pact to start tackling the unpacking tomorrow. In the meantime, they both collapse on the front porch, grinning lazily into the setting sun. Nate procures a small bottle of champagne, that’s regrettably lukewarm since the ice in the cooler melted about two hours ago. He pours it into their empty Popeye’s soda cups, and they toast to their luck and their new home.

“You know what would make this place even better?” Nate eventually asks. Elena’s at his side, her head on his shoulder. He kisses the top of it.

“Hmm?” she asks as she snuggles up against him, her eyes closed against the deep orange glow from the horizon.

“If we got a pet lemur.”

ii.

Admittedly, leaving the life and moving to Louisiana ends up affecting Elena more than she thought it would. She still writes, of course, and everyone in the neighborhood is pleasant enough, but it doesn’t take long for a desire for the familiar to set in, which is how she ends up buying a pre-owned PlayStation 4 after she runs out of excuses to give to Chloe and Charlie for not getting one in the first place.

Apparently, Chloe and Charlie play shooters online

“I’m telling you,” Chloe says over Bluetooth. Elena’s still trying to work out how to turn the system on, not quite able to wrap her head around how the machine has changed in a few generations. “You’re going to love it.”

After randomly pressing buttons, Elena hears the faint beep and sees the blue light turn on when she presses the right one. She smiles at the PlayStation logo that appears on the screen and the low hum of the console. “But I don’t play competitively.”

“Yet,” Chloe assures, her voice tinny over the earpiece. “You don’t play competitively yet.”

“I don’t know, Chloe,” Elena counters. The screen is asking for her login information and a bunch of different setting preferences, and since when did a game need to be connected to the wireless? Apparently, video games became a lot more involved than the last time she played. “I think I might just be a bandicoot and fruit collecting kind of girl.”

Chloe sighs. “You’re only saying that because you’ve yet to experience the utter satisfaction of completely destroying insecure men at virtual combat and then trash talking them afterward.”

It had felt pretty great schooling Nate with Crash Bandicoot. Maybe Chloe has a point.

“Fine.” Elena’s shoulders sag as she lets out a sigh, her eyes on the screen. It’s asking for some kind of username? She wracks her brain for a moment before settling on Sunshine. The screen informs her that the name has already been taken when she hits enter, so she amends it to Sunshine07, adding the year she met Nate and Sully. That works. “But you can’t make fun of me when it turns out that I am terrible at this.”

Chloe laughs on her end. “I can make no such promise!” she protests, as if the mere thought goes against who she is fundamentally as a person. “But if it makes you feel better, Charlie is absolute rubbish at it, and I keep him around anyway.”

Another line emits static as it comes to life. “Oi, watch it!” Charlie’s voice comes in over the mic. “I hold my own well enough, thank you very much.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” Chloe asks, her smirk audible.

Charlie shrugs, or at least, that’s what Elena imagines he does. “Absolutely we are,” he assures her. “And it’s no worse than bullying children online, which I believe is your claim to fame.”

“That is absolutely not fair; it was one time!” Chloe protests, immediately on the defensive, despite Charlie’s laughter in the background. “How was I supposed to know? The foul nature of his username suggested someone nearly twice his age. All the more reason, I say, to keep young children from playing games made for adults.”

“Oh, sure,” Charlie says, still laughing, “blame the parents.”

Elena lets their back and forth play out, before focus naturally swings back to the game they’re trying to play. Turns out, she has to friend both of them before they can start playing. Within moments, she receives friend confirmations from brighteyezz and Charles_of_Arabia, and after a minimal amount of coaching, she manages to get the game inserted and loaded.

“Okay,” she says, Bluetooth mic in place, her legs pulled up and under her on the couch, and the game’s home screen illuminating the TV, “let’s take these knuckleheads down.”

There’s only a minimal amount of snickering that comes through her mic in response.

iii.

“Tango on my six. Someone take this douchebag down.”

“Say no more,” Chloe responds. Like clockwork, the guy behind Elena takes a head shot. She watches the screen as his skull explodes in a truly gratuitous display of violence and guts.

“Oh, beautiful,” Charlie chimes in. “That guy’s been a right arsehole since we started, camping at all our spawn points and mowing us down, no mercy whatsoever. Humiliate him, Bright Eyes.”

“With pleasure,” she coos, changing her mic from their private party chat to the general lobby. When she finishes, they’re down one player in the lobby, and Elena beams.

As it turns out, Elena’s really good at shooters. To the point where Chloe and Charlie actually begged her to join their clan after a few months and play with them regularly. And even though it’s only ever been about having fun and relieving stress for her, Elena can’t help feeling a sense of pride that the three of them have developed a bit of a reputation in the online community for being pretty unstoppable. Her personal stats alone are enough to keep most trolls off her back, so she generally doesn’t have to verbally retaliate. But even if she has to, she can hold her own, thanks to Chloe’s tutelage. Charlie, on the other hand, is embarrassingly bad at trash talk, much to Chloe and Elena’s amusement.

Her attention is momentarily torn from the game when she hears the front door open. Nate’s not normally home this early, and Elena’s never been fully upfront about her new gaming hobby, so it takes him a moment to adjust to the sight before him, after he toes his shoes off and dumps his bag on the floor next to them. Elena’s sitting on the edge of the couch, her body leaning forward, her headset (a minor upgrade) on as she issues commands to Charlie and Chloe. She smiles widely when he sinks into the couch next to her.

“You miss me that much that you’re talking to yourself?” he asks as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, planting a kiss on the top of her head. It’s distracting enough that she misses her next shot, giving her opponent the chance to shoot her, which he does. Chloe has a stream of expletives in response, which Elena pointedly ignores.

“Hey, you. You’re home early,” she says, covertly muting the mic and snuggling into Nate’s side. He tightens his grasp in response,

“Yeah, pretty light day for salvaging,” he explains, idly tracing random lines on her shoulder. It’s super distracting, which is how she misses another shot. On cue, Chloe and Charlie have some choice words for her. Nate’s gaze is trained on the screen, which is how his next statement comes to pass. “Did that fox with pants join the army in the sequel?”

Elena snorts. “It’s a bandicoot,” she says reflexively. “And, no. This is a completely different game.”

“It looks violent,” he concludes, which she can’t help noticing the irony after everything they’ve been through. After a beat, he adds, “Can I try it?”

She hands the controller over to him willingly (recognizing this match as a rare failure at this stage, anyway) and watches in awe as Nate somehow outdoes himself by playing abysmally. Amazingly, his hand-eye coordination is pretty terrible for someone who used to require precise dexterity to swing across buildings and caverns. Hiding her laughter becomes an impossibility when, after five deaths in a row (two of which happened as a result of pushing the left joystick too far, so his character just kept running in circles), Chloe and Charlie go ballistic.

“Elena. Sweetheart,” Chloe says slowly, trying in vain to restrain her fury and failing. “Have you hit your head and become concussed? Because that’s the only explanation I can conjure for the shit show that is your current performance.”

“Absolute bollocks! Get your head out of your arse and play like you know what a video game is,” Charlie demands, decidedly more forthcoming with his frustration.

“Guys,” she finally chimes in, switching the mic from mute. She’s giggling too hard for anything to be very coherent, but she presses on. “It’s not me, it’s Nate.”

The sound of their collective outrage (“Bloody hell,” barks Charlie) is so loud that Nate can hear it, even over Elena’s laughter. When he asks who she’s talking to, she wordlessly switches her mic to external audio, the sound of Chloe and Charlie making fun of him now projected into the living room. Nate’s ears go slightly pink, and Elena only feels a little guilty for being unable to stop laughing.

“Ha, ha, laugh it up, guys,” he shoots off sarcastically, tossing the controller back in Elena’s lap. “I may not be able to play video games, but I did discover Shambhala, you know.”

Charlie groans, and Elena pokes Nate in the side, booing at him. Chloe actually blows a raspberry in response.

“Oh, come off it, Nate. That excuse lost its appeal the first thousand times you used it.”

“Yeah,” Charlie adds, “don’t make us dislike you anymore than we already do for you being a shit player.”

iv.

When Jamison’s wife, Carla, invites Elena to join her for her yoga class late one Thursday afternoon, Elena can’t say anything but yes. Jamison and Carla were the first ones to make Elena and Nate feel welcome when they moved to Louisiana, and they consistently invite the two of them over for dinner every month. Elena can’t ignore the small amount of guilt that may or may not be playing a factor in her decision.

She can, however, ask a friend to come with her. A friend who arrived from Berlin two days ago and is currently sleeping on their couch. A friend like Chloe.

“I simply don’t understand suburbia,” Chloe says, saying the last word as though it’s the most repulsive concept she’s ever heard.

“First of all,” Elena counters through laughter, “where we live hardly classifies as ‘suburbia,’ and second”—she gestures to her stomach—“you go surprisingly soft when you’re not running for your life from some mythical, collapsing city.”

“Yes, but why must I suffer because of your choice to leave the life?” Chloe demands as she holds the studio door open.

Elena thinks for a moment. “Because you’re working on being a really good friend?”

Chloe’s head falls back as she barks with laughter. “And you are apparently working on being a really bad liar?”

“Oh, come on,” Elena coaxes. She goes so far as to link her arm with Chloe’s before they enter the studio. “It’s gonna be great!”

v.

It’s not great, for the record.

Carla neglects to mention that the yoga class she attends is hot yoga, which Elena can only compare to doing yoga smack dab in the middle of the Rub’ al Khali. Just when her body adjusted to the temperature inside the studio, the ventilation system would pump even more hot air into the confined space. She doesn’t even bother with the showers afterward, just pushes her way out through the front entrance, where she braces her hands on her thighs and gulps in the clean and comparatively cool air.

“It’s…gonna be…great, huh?” Chloe gasps, following suit as she slides down the side of the building, her legs sprawled out on the ground. Much like Elena, she’s drenched in sweat, droplets of it dripping from her hair into the red, water wicking material of her tank top. “Please be sure to engrave ‘it’s gonna be great’ on my… tombstone once they scrape my body off this sidewalk and…bury me in a shallow grave.”

“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes, unable to laugh like she normally would due to exhaustion. Unlike Chloe, Elena has on an old, baggy t-shirt, which is now plastered to her body, almost obscenely. “Remind me to—” She has to stop momentarily, her lungs stubbornly not cooperating with her desire to breathe. She collapses next to Chloe. “—Remind me to…forget it. I’m so exhausted, I forgot what I was going to say.”

“I won’t…hold it against you,” Chloe promises, trying in vain to keep her breathing even, “if you promise to never do this again.”

That makes Elena laugh. Then, it makes her cough violently. “Deal,” she wheezes.

Carla, freshly showered and rejuvenated, exits the studio, glimpses the two of them and chuckles, not unkindly, before going to get the car started.

vi.

Not even a week after arriving back stateside from Libertalia, and Nate refuses to drop the subject. Madagascar did nothing to change his mind.

“Elena—” he begins, still engrossed in whatever National Geographic article he has pulled up on the computer in her office. His furrowed brow and overall determination make her shake her head.

“No way,” Elena interrupts. One glance at the computer screen, and she knows. She just knows what her well-meaning, but beating-a-dead-horse husband is about to say. “We are absolutely not—”

“But they eat mostly plants, they’re mostly solitary, and,” Nate continues, as if Elena wasn’t speaking, “it says here…that many of them exhibit female dominance, so…y’know,” he explains by way of not explaining when Elena stares at him blankly, “they’re obviously feminists.”

Elena snorts so loudly, it covers her laughter. Mostly. “Sure, obviously feminists.”

“Yeah,” Nate says in response, grinning infectiously, “girl power and all that.”

“Nate, you are actually exceeding the levels of crazy I expect from you,” she admits. When it looks like he’s about to protest, she places her hand over his mouth. “I love you, but we are absolutely not getting a pet lemur.”

vii.

“Not it!”

Nate looks at his wife, exasperated, once they both realize they said it at the same time. Elena, mouth contorted into an ‘o’ of surprise and finger pointed accusatorily, tries to stop the grin that breaks out onto her face, but she fails.

Miserably.

“I totally said it first,” Elena claims, though it doesn’t help that she is laughing.

Nate scoffs. “You totally did not.”

“Oh, come on,” she tries again, nudging him with her shoulder. “I meant it when I said we would have to share doing paperwork.” She sighs. “If only you would carry your half of the weight.”

This time, Nate starts laughing. “Elena, you are so full of crap. I just finished a week’s worth of phone calls and permit applications for our dig in Malaysia yesterday, so don’t you start.” He scrubs a hand over his face before he catches sight of something behind her, and his eyes light up. “Okay, how about I play you for it?”

Elena’s eyebrows rise. “You sure that’s the smartest move there, cowboy?”

“Nuh-nuh-no, I learned my lesson last time,” Nate replies, leaning back in the desk chair. He gestures to the bookcase behind Elena. “No, I’m talking about those.”

She follows his line of sight to the off-brand Nerf pistols that had somehow migrated from the attic to their living room. Her smile grows larger.

“I guess if we’re completely overlooking the fact that I’m the better shot, then sure,” Elena concedes. She walks over to grab the guns and once she has, she tosses one over to Nate. He catches it singlehandedly. “Let’s get your humiliation over with quickly.”

Nate gets up from his chair and vaults over the couch, proceeding to load ammo into his gun. “You’re going to live to choke on those words, you know,” he informs her.

Elena just rolls her eyes. “Three hits,” she says. “The first one to shoot the other three times wins, and doesn’t have to do paperwork.”

viii.

Nate gives her a head start, but when he goes to search for her, he finds her almost immediately in their shared bathroom. Using some impressive gymnastics, Elena rolls past him, but he’s hot on her trail as they take their shenanigans throughout the entire house. Eventually, Elena ends up behind the couch, her gun trained squarely on Nate, who’s standing behind the island counter, his gun aimed at her.

“Well!” Nate booms, a cocky grin stretched wide across his face. “Look what we have here! Ruggedly charming adventurer, Nathan Drake, appears to be up by two, while his lovely, but losing wife, Elena, is preparing to fill out paperwork for the rest of the week.”

Without another word, Elena fires a round at him. Nate ducks, but the shot goes wide. When he comes back up, the annoyingly smug grin on his face is enough to give Elena an idea.

“Any last words?” Nate prods, spinning the toy pistol around like he’s some kind of outlaw. He has the nerve to come out from behind the counter. “Besides groveling for mercy?”

It’s Elena’s turn to grin smugly, as she watches her husband still in his tracks, the expression on his face fearful for a split second. Only when she undoes the second button on her blouse does he say something.

“What are you doing?” he asks evenly.

She responds with a full on smile, undoing another button in the process. “Let’s just say that in a war of sticks and carrots, I��m going with the latter.”

Nate’s Adam’s apple bobs once, his growing discomfort obvious. Elena takes advantage of his frozen state to approach him. “Hey!” he blanches when she undoes another button. His mouth suddenly feels dry. “We never agreed to partial nudity!”

“We never not agreed to partial nudity,” Elena corrects him, undoing the final button. She’s close enough to him that she can touch him, which she does, placing a hand on his chest. His heart pounds erratically. “I’m just playing up my strengths,” she explains with a wink.

He punctuates rolling his eyes by grasping her wrist, but he can’t seem to bring himself to actually remove her hand. “Yeah, your strength of cheating, you mean” he admonishes half-heartedly, his voice faltering as his gaze inadvertently lowers.

Sighing dramatically, Elena pulls away, and slowly starts to button her blouse. “Well, alright. I guess I can do the paperwork this week since you won. It’s only fair.”

Ignoring his pride, Nate tugs Elena back toward him and hoists her up onto the counter. “You’ll be the death of me, you know that?” he admonishes before situating himself between her legs with his hands resting dangerously high up on her thighs.

“I’m just willing to sleep with the co-owner of D&F Fortunes if it means I get out of doing paperwork for the week,” Elena admits, her smile wide.

Nate breaks into a matching grin despite all the extra forms he’ll have to fill out. It’s hard for him to think of paperwork as a loss, though, when his wife is kissing him as thoroughly as she is, their toy pistols in the foreground, completely forgotten.

ix.

“Hey—whoa, sorry!…Nathan, have you always had that birthmark on your ass?”

“SAM!”

“Elena, good to see you again. Although, admittedly, last time it was with more clothing—”

“GET OUT!”

When the door slams in his face, Sam takes his pitiful dish of green bean casserole down to the kitchen. He finds Sully’s down there among various pies and side dishes, filling a tumbler with liquor he’d helped himself to from the cabinet in the dining room.

“Can you believe all that, Victor?”

At his questioning glance, Sam tells him about his run in with his brother and Elena.

Sully slams his glass down in disgust. “The hell? What, do they have a yearly standing appointment?”

And that’s the story of how Sam accidentally walks in on Nate and Elena in a physically compromising situation the day before Thanksgiving.

x.

“So in conclusion—” Sam begins, hands held behind his back as he rocks back and forth on his heels. He and Sully had just finished up a job and gotten back from Argentina last night, but his niece had been texting him back and forth about this presentation since before then. Sure, he was exhausted, but who was he to turn her down? Especially when her preparation work had been so impressive?

“What Sam’s trying to say,” Cassie interjects, looking over at her uncle for some guidance. He imperceptibly nods, and she finds the courage to press on, “is that a lemur would actually make a really great pet, given their herbivorous diets and our house’s close proximity to exotic flora, among other things.”

From her spot on the couch, Elena narrows her gaze, first at her brother-in-law, then at her daughter. It's hard to respond with much of anything when Cassie even included a visual aid in the form of a bar graph, which is propped up in front of the TV in the living room where they all are presently. Out of her line of sight, Nate gives two thumbs up, and Cassie uses all her self-control to stop herself from beaming proudly.

“Did your father put you up to this?” Elena finally asks, fixing her gaze at Cassie, then Sam. “Or your uncle?”

“Of course not,” Cassie blurts a little too quickly. Sensing her discomfort, Sam wraps an arm around her shoulders, squeezing.

“Look, Elena,” he says, giving her his most endearing smile. Nate clearly rolls his eyes in his periphery, but he still doesn’t have a pet lemur, does he? “I think if there’s one person who has really been advocating for this all along, it’s Victor.”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Sully pops his head out from the freezer, ice cube trays in hand. He pops a couple into his tumbler on the counter, and puts the trays back where they belong. It’s not until he’s pouring liquor into the tumbler that he adds, “There’s a reason I have no horse in this race, and it’s because, I’m staying far the hell away from this. For what it’s worth though, Cassie, your mother is smart enough to see through your father’s harebrained schemes.”

Immediately, Sam deflates, and Elena turns on Nate, poking an accusatory finger into his chest. “You are the worst liar,” she accuses him at the same time Sam says to Sully, “Way to not get involved, Victor. Truly inspiring.”

Sully goes on about how Sam started all of this, but it’s Nate that addresses his wife’s accusation by saying, “I couldn’t stand by and let Cassie’s dream of having a pet lemur be broken.”

Elena doesn’t budge. “You mean your dream?”

“Technically,” he amends, lacing his hands behind his head, stretching his legs out on the ottoman in front of him, and grinning, “she’s our daughter, so really it’s our dream.”

She snorts. “You are impossible. And you,” she directs at Cassie, “despite your solid argument and blatant treachery, my answer still stands. No lemurs.”

Sam whistles, long and low. “Tough break, kid.”

Cassie crosses her arms over her chest and huffs. “Well, can we at least get some kind of pet?”

xi.

Later, when Elena finally relents and says—after speaking with Sully, who used to have one—they can get a dog, Cassie fist bumps her dad and her uncle, her smile threatening to split her face. She tells Sully they’re going to name it after him for his central involvement. He offers her a cigar to celebrate, which Nate promptly and emphatically puts a stop to.

Eventually, curiosity gets the better of him, and Nate asks Cassie how she knew she could get her mom on board with a pet.

“Well, Dad, you always say that the best way to run a con is to get the other person to believe it was their idea in the first place,” she admits.

Nate pulls her into a hug, practically beaming.

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: MoMA’s Items Exhibition is Smart About Fashion but Too Cozy with Advertising

An example of advertising in vitrine with object (all images by the author for Hyperallergic)

“Fashion,” with its faint whiff of the trivial — and the feminine — can make “serious” art people blanch, which likely explains the over 70-year gap between the only MoMA exhibitions ever devoted to this subject. Back in 1943, the museum daringly mounted “Are Clothes Modern?” organized by Bernard Rudofsky. This past week, curator Paola Antonelli and her team unveiled their response to Rudofksy: an epic, at times overwhelming show entitled Items: Is Fashion Modern? — featuring 111 “typologies” of items that “changed the world,” displayed in over 350 iterations.

After my three-hour visit to “Items,” I decided that the answer to the title question is “No, fashion is not modern.” Rather, fashion here feels eternal and ubiquitous, transcending both temporality and geography. The exhibition draws vectors between modern fashion and virtually the entire sweep of global history, reminding us that nothing springs ex nihilo. Everything has an antecedent, a historical “archetype,” to use Ms. Antonelli’s Jungian term. To wit: Have you ever noticed how much the DVF wrap dress owes to the Indian sari? (See them side-by-side and it’s obvious.) Or what the 1990s fanny pack owes to the 19th-century bustle? Did you know that platform shoes were worn in 18th-century Turkey? That the Snugli was patterned after a traditional Togolese baby carrier? And so it goes, through an onslaught of objects — the red cotton bandana (whose back story stretches from Martha Washington to Rosie the Riveter), the dashiki, Converse sneakers, ballet flats, stilettos, berets, turtlenecks, zoot suits, pantsuits, jump suits and track suits, sunscreen, hoop earrings, and Y-front briefs. The sheer quantity of “stuff” feels dizzying.

Classic trench coat and futuristic rain gear

Often, we see an early version of an item alongside a futuristic revision. A lime-green Lily Pulitzer shift dress shares wall space with both a “deconstructed” model by Hussein Chalayan and a Stella McCartney frock rendered in environmentally friendly spider silk. A classic trench coat takes its place next to a disturbing arsenal of sci-fi rain gear by artist Anne Van Galen — including an oversized PVC head protector — which anticipates a future of “ceaseless rainfall” caused by climate change.

But even while invoking such serious and broad topics, “Items” feels personal and intimate, since most items here are quite ordinary and familiar. Some have woven themselves into our daily lives so seamlessly that we barely notice them. Have you thought lately about the cultural significance of your Levi’s? Your Ray Bans? What about your your Gore-tex windbreaker or your tattoo?

Hussein Chalayan deconstructed shift

Antonelli and her team want you to notice, though; they want you to make that leap from the quotidian to the philosophical, the local to the global, the present to the past (and future), the personal to the political. It’s a laudable goal — in some ways, it’s the goal of all education.

Like any good educators, the curators make use of whatever immediate connection they can establish with their audience. Here, that connection consists in the little shock of recognition sparked by spotting fragments of your own life enshrined in a museum. Your age, gender, and background will determine which items resonate most for you. My own heart skipped a beat when I encountered a tube of Revlon lipstick my late mother once used. I thrilled to see a leotard exactly like the kind I wore for years to ballet class. It was fun to note that I’ve owned Swatches like those displayed here; and hey, that YSL “touche éclat” highlighter is exactly like the one still in my makeup drawer.

Some items will speak to you via their pop culture or sports provenance: outlandish silver platform boots once worn by Elton John, jerseys belonging to Michael Jordan and Colin Kaepernick (the latter presciently selected a year ago). Others are simply wardrobe staples, like the white T-shirt and the little black dress (iterations from Chanel through Dior, Versace, and Rick Owens).

The point is, we connect to these items via our own interior landscape, and we project onto them our memories, fantasies, and anxieties (the Wonderbra and Spanx, for example, likely stir some sensitive issues for many women). In so doing, we also project ourselves outward, into the greater world.

In some cases, the curators provide literal projections to make their point. Two nude mannequins, for example, receive colored light projections illustrating complex tattoo art. And in one of the best displays, a rotating series of iconic logos is projected onto a single white T-shirt—morphing from Mickey Mouse to the Rolling Stones’ classic mouth with tongue, to “I ‘heart’ NY,” to a Keith Haring drawing, and so on. In this way, that lone T-shirt comes to stand in for the entire intellectual premise of “Items,” demonstrating how one basic design item can accrue and reflect myriad cultural meanings.

As so often happens though, a great strength reveals a great weakness. The T-shirt display is brilliant, but many of its cinematic messages are commercial in nature. They are advertisements — for a band, a city, the Disney corporation — but this remains unacknowledged, as does the topic of commerce generally throughout the exhibition. Ads occupy far too great a role here to be used so uncritically. Often, most problematically, advertisements seem to substitute for art-historical information.

Each section provides background for its objects, in the guise of text, photographs or video. Frequently, though, this background takes the form of corporate advertising. A vintage television commercial for the Wonderbra plays in one section; a magazine opens to a print ad for cosmetics in another. A video tutorial on how to pin and fold a Muslim headscarf turns out to be a commercial for a website that sells hijabs. And adjoining a display of Donna Karan’s “Seven Easy Pieces” (her stretchy “power” wardrobe from 1980s), a film on endless replay depicts a glamorous model in dark glasses riding in a limousine while a voiceover recites cryptic, self-serious dialogue. Who is this femme fatale and what is this film with the intrusive soundtrack? Is this another design concept for us to study, a new “typology?” No. The film is yet another advertisement — a 1985 promotional film hawking Donna Karan designs — presented without explication here, as if deserving of an essay in Cahiers du Cinéma.

To a degree, this blurred distinction between design and commerce makes sense. Objects are also merchandise, after all; we buy them. But a show like this needed to acknowledge this gray area, to think through the relationship between the museum display case and the shop window. Instead, the exhibition seems to glorify commodities freely — especially those of the high-end variety.

A vintage Hermès Birkin bag, for example, commands its own vitrine, implying an equivalence between its commercial value (a five-figure price tag and a waiting list) and its cultural import. Other vitrines showcase a Cartier love bracelet; a vintage bottle of Chanel no. 5; a Rolex; diamond earrings; and something called “the money manicure” — nail art depicting dollar signs. Ironically, while the MoMA guards seem fairly relaxed in most of the exhibition, they repeatedly issued stern warnings to visitors sidling up too closely to the luxury goods displays, as if confirming which “items” the museum values most.

Reinforcing this connection between MoMA and Madison Avenue is the exhibition’s aggressively promoted tie-in with the museum’s Design Store, which is featuring a rotating array of commissioned merchandise pegged to the show. The day I visited, I found baseball caps, an updated Breton striped pullover, and specially designed nail polish in colors called “Red Bandana,” “Gold Hoops” and “Denim Jeans.” Store reps repeatedly tried to regale me with descriptions of other fetching items soon to hit the shelves.

In promoting “Items” both MoMA director Glenn Lowry and curator Antonelli have emphasized the exhibition’s user-friendly quality, its accessible focus on everyday items. They’ve even invited the public to tell them what they’ve overlooked, to submit suggestions for a 112 item. I have no doubt this approach will prove effective, driving foot traffic and probably increasing museum store sales. And I applaud the show’s ambition, as well as its serious presentation of fashion.

And yet. Somehow, even as Items makes its case for finding the seriousness in the apparently trivial, as it sees infinity in a grain of sand, it winds up making a more troubling statement too: that “infinity” these days just might lead back to the department store. That we are all connected, yes, but maybe just via global commerce. Thinking back, I realize that Items provoked a kind of  déjà vu in me. I recognize now the feeling I got as I wandered among those hundreds of only loosely connected “items,” that sense I had of being overwhelmed: it was exactly the same feeling I get if I stay too long at a shopping mall.

  Items: Is Fashion Modern? continues at MoMA (11 West 53 Street, Manhattan) through January 28, 2018.

The post MoMA’s <i>Items</i> Exhibition is Smart About Fashion but Too Cozy with Advertising appeared first on Hyperallergic.

from Hyperallergic http://ift.tt/2g8ZHRZ via IFTTT

[artsyarchangel-blog]

Gunbreaker

So i read a lot of light novels these days and so i decided to write something in a similar style. It's mostly meant to be a learning experience, purely for fun. Try to see it as that, or don't, not that it matters. The plan is to publish something every month, gradually it will become bigger and bigger. This is the idea at least. I won't really talk about the subject of this Web-Novel, see for yourself. It contains some mature content though and will gradually ramp up in that regard. 

But enough of that, just enjoy the little something i’ve written up here.

Chapter 1: Days of Justice 1 Life can be so terribly dull, so very uneventful. Going through the motions, following the daily grind it's easy to just shut off your mind and do whatever you are told. A chosen few will come to detest this truth, but only the smallest number will successfully rebel against it, without being crushed into submission. But some events make you appreciate just how easy life actually is. Events like a sudden shootout, when you find yourself surrounded by maimed corpses, blood splattered all over you in merely a second. Yes, an event like this might cure these childish thoughts of rebellion,of changing the world, but for me, they were awakened. All i felt was uncontrollable rage, like a wild beast unleashed on this world. Not that it mattered, i was only lucky to survive the first barrage and the next one would surely extinguish my life. If it wasn't for the girl, that is. I don't think i ever thanked her for that... The faint blue color of the screen was the only light source in my small room, as i chugged down another can of my valuable energy-drink. Well listen, my allowance was really small at the time and those stupid cans were expensive as hell, it's not like i had an addiction. Anyway, it was another all-nighter for me, watching my favourite shows or playing games together with a few slackers called my friends. I had school tomorrow, but what of it, this useless educational system could go straight to hell for all I cared. Still gonna go in the morning, of course, otherwise my mom would yell at me. Didn't matter, I just slept in class, you could say I mastered this technique over time. No one ever noticed. Because the teachers are stupid, completely retarded. I spent many a night like this, wasting away, basically doing nothing but diminish the energy to actually achieve something in my life. I was 15 though, gimme a break, okay? Now this night, though, this night was special and in many ways it shaped my whole future. As I browsed through meaningless videos, funny threads filled with smart people (who always seemed so much more clever than my dumb teachers) and, of course, I left my own comments, receiving praise in the thousands, by my fellow internet brethren. What joy, I felt elevated, but this happened regularly, so that is not what I am talking about. No, the night was made special the moment I opened another video titled “The truth of the wastelands”. The footage showed a small village, utterly ruined, smoke rose from the roofs while armored vehicles moved into the frame, spilling heavily-armed soldiers out of their guts. Now mind you, this is the first time I laid eyes on supposedly real firearms and it was also the first time I saw a human being die. They rushed into a hut, one of the few unscathed by what could only be an artillery-strike and dragged out a few people, bearing all the qualifications of a family. And then they just shot them, one after the other. There wasn't any sound and the footage wasn't of the highest quality, but the way the bodies, former humans, jerked after having a gun put to their head, made me sick to my stomach. Just then, the screen faded to black, showing only my reflection and my disgusted face. A message spread across the screen:”This video was taken in one of the rural areas surrounding our walled cities. This world is not safe, this world is not peaceful and we do not live in prosperity. They are lying to you. They keep you safe in your cages while they do as they please.” The message was signed by a group named “Hermes”, their logo a pair of red winged sandals on a black background. I never heard of them before, yet I felt like they were right, like they had something to say that needed to be said. Outside of the cities, such horrific crimes took place? Could it be? How was I unaware of that, how was everyone unaware of that? As I read through the comments, I slowly started to understand: “This looks fake.” “lol, take off your tinfoil-hats!” “who are these guys anyway?” “wow, nasty, they just popped her head, lmfao” “Is this real? Then someone should change this! Actually, screw that, I want to change this, I am so mad right now!!” The last message belonged to me, my true feelings, written down by a 15-year-old highschooler. Even today it makes me chuckle and before I could receive any reaction on my comment, the video was gone. I refreshed the page, there was nothing, just the error message. Now I could have just forgotten about it, there were a million reasons why this video got deleted. Maybe it violated the guide-lines of this website, maybe the contents were stolen from someone else, maybe it actually was fake and the administrator tried to prevent the spreading of such bullshit. Or maybe it was all a grand conspiracy and the government themselves deleted the video, to cover up their crimes! You are free to guess what was most plausible in my mind there. Now let me say something to my defense though, it wasn't actually that outlandish. It was like an open secret that you can not leave our five major cities. If you were born in one, you were going to die in this same metropolis. It was commonly known, obviously, nobody could cover up the fact, that the mainland of our planet was a hellish landscape, unfit to any human life. Yet people lived there, apparently and maybe seeing that triggered this anger in me, this self-righteous justice. Everyone else was just lying to themselves, because they weren't the one on gunpoint, they were safe and only later, I understood them. That it was easier this way. You were simply happier and fighting it was futile, you tried to climb a mountain without any limbs. But back then, I didn't see it that way in my youthful recklessness. Ultimately, it really didn't matter anyway. I was helpless, there was nothing I could do to help those poor people living outside the safe zones. There was nothing to be found online, I searched every nook and cranny, stumbling over baseless rumors.  One suggested that Hermes was actually the government themselves, luring in stupid teenagers and offing them once they got their personal information. I also met at least a dozen people claiming to be Hermes, but that soon proved to be just trolling. There was nothing left and it depressed me a little, I became distant to my friends, I never replied to their requests to play some games, I was obsessed with that video. How their bodies went limb, how they were meaninglessly slaughtered. Now that was my own interpretation of the scenes, for all I know this family could have been a band of mass murderers and the armed forces only exacted revenge, but in my conviction, I had to save innocent lives. Me, a failure of a student, with no exceptional intelligence to speak of. Really, if Hermes had any sense, they'd tell me to leave as soon as I made contact. Instead, after a week of frantic searches, asking around online, I received a message: “We witnessed your resolve, brother. If you still want to bring the deserved peace to this world, then join us.” 2 Embedded in this simple message was a link. The logical assumption would be that this would either lead me to some fucked up porn or a virus, ready to just disintegrate my entire system. Naturally, I clicked it without a moments hesitation. Nothing bad happened against all odds, instead I found myself in some chat room. They really were serious with me! There was no members-list, no previous message, radio-silence. I felt like I stepped into a hall of heroes, onto the round table itself, only virtually of course. My real scrawny body was still hunched over the keyboard, not knowing what to say, what message I could write. Really, I blacked out completely, I didn't even know a simple online-chat room could feel so awkward, yet here I was, frozen stiff. I typed  a simple “hello” and deleted it before I could send it. Then I wrote some eight-grader nonsense of justice and prophecies and thankfully deleted that too. I have enough cringy memories, I didn't need that one...on further thought, does one more on the huge pile really matter? Only then, he finally broke the silence: HERMES: So you want to change our fate, breaking free, destroying the influence of the five Warlords? Tell me, brother, what motivates your actions? Why do you want to join our justice? Yeah, turns out this guy was as much of a child as I was. Of course I replied enthusiastically, but at this point I  had no screen-name yet. I thought long and hard about my answer, actually only a minute, I didn't want them to think I just left. ANON: I saw the video you guys published a few days ago and since then, I simply cannot stand by while innocent lives are erased. Please let my join in your noble cause, my brothers, in your pursuit of liberation! I don't know what to say here... I could practically feel how the people on the other side of the screen laughed their asses off...is what I want to say, but in reality, I felt pretty damn proud after my convincing answer. HERMES: Very well. A good answer. Yet we see that you are still unrefined, without a strict direction. Without a plan to actually achieve our ends. Fret not, we are here to guide you in your path, but you have to take action yourself, just as you did before we found you. HERMES: Are you capable of doing that? This is your trial, identify who is responsible for these crimes, we will contact you in another week. And just like that, I was back on my homepage, unsure of what to do. The culprit? The person who is responsible? Or was this about an idea, the motive behind these actions? Come to think of it, why would they turn our planet into an unruly land, where only the strongest survive and the laws are made at the muzzle of a gun? What could be the meaning of this? I had to mull it over and most importantly I could not disappoint these internet-warriors. For all I knew they were just kids, maybe not even a group, some teenager who knew a little more about computers and managed to abuse a security-leak. There was absolutely no guarantee that Hermes was the real thing. It's just that it didn't even matter to me. I was just happy to escape my boring life, to have a sense of purpose so many teenagers are missing.  A feeling of superiority filled my very being, I was better than all these blind idiots, lying to themselves just to preserve their peaceful lives. This would all change, I'd fight to birth a new world. Or at least I was about to. 3 The following days I did nothing but research, I even skipped school, coming up with an excuse how terribly sick I am. Maybe I laid it on a little thick, my mother almost send me to the hospital, but the end-result was me sitting in front of my computer-screen, looking up everything I could think of. Some things I looked into were common knowledge, that every one of our five cities were independent states, governed by a prime minister and that there was a big conference every four years. This already struck me as odd, were they allowed to leave the cities? And wasn't it a little to convenient, five cities for five warlords? Surely there must be some sort of conspiracy on a government-level so I dug deeper, I needed to know everything of our administration down to the districtional plane. Needless to say, I found nothing and that in itself was weird. You'd expect a bunch of theories online, some baseless rumors, some insane people dedicating everything to bring some shocking truths to light, even if there is no proof. Hermes wasn't much different, after all. However, I found nothing, like the entire network was curated by some unknown source. It was scary, I seriously considered giving up, who knows what they would do to me... if they could track me. Well, I had a lot of countermeasures against that, at least I thought I did. Hacking or cracking, these were never skills I acquired, so I just relied on some tutorials to set up an impregnable barrier. Feeling safe like that, I naturally continued, but I couldn't shake this bad feeling. The only information I could gather out of direct conversations, groups similar to Hermes, just not as influential or effective. Cause when I mentioned the group, everyone held their breath, metaphorically of course. For the first time, I heard of their reputation, how they brought down the website of the government, putting their logo across the entire screen whenever you tried to access it or how their leader escaped multiple raids on his home-base, injuring the special forces in the process. I never even knew our police had a special force! It was awe-inspiring to me and more than ever, I wanted to be a part of this organization. Again, there was no proof for any of this, only my faith. Surely nobody would do such a terrible thing, just telling lies on the internet. So while I did acquire some information, true or false, no matter, I didn't really feel like inching closer to my goal. What was the reason, how could I find out? In the end I even pinned everything I found on a board in my room, feeling like some kind of TV-Detective. If my parents caught me, they might have send me to the therapist, but luckily they never entered my room without knocking first...for both our sakes. I put down all kind of names, organizations, looking for a link that shouldn't be there, evidence for some sketchy business. The video flared back into my mind, how all life left the body of this innocent woman, but it wasn't just about that, not just a reminder for the injustice I vowed to destroy. No, I looked for something, an emblem, a badge on the soldiers, maybe a number on their weapons, anything I could use. Hermes gave me nothing, our exchange took maybe five minutes, then they send me on my way, to prove myself, but what did they expect? How could a student figure this out, if no one else could? Nobody knew why we lived confined in these cities, nor when it even began. It was lost to history, maybe all accounts of a time before the metropolis were deleted, maybe destroyed in some kind of catastrophe. This was the most likely scenario, that nobody meant for this to happen, just some natural disaster scorching the earth. But if that was the case, Hermes wouldn't fight against...against someone. Who was it, I had to know! The five Warlords, yes, I remembered, but who are they? The deadline was drawing near, tomorrow, at night most likely, they would expect my answer. No sleep was found this night, not until I could come up with something, anything. The most embarrassing thing would happen if I just had no answer at all, if I'd just stay silent. Or spout some generic shit, like “The government” or “the Banks, they are responsible for our misery”. I could not let it end here! So I stayed up all night thinking about it, I continued to rack my brain in the morning, eventually, I couldn't go on any longer and just fell asleep on my desk. The sound of a notification woke me up and there it was, another message. It didn't say anything, which did nothing to ease my nervousness, only provided a link again. The sender was clear though, so there was no doubt, Hermes contacted me just like they said they would. But I still had no answer. Regardless, I had to dive in, of course, always thinking about this video. It was the only definite hint that I had, so the answer had to be in there. Who is behind all of it, what is the reason for the sorry state of our planet?  The reason...wait, it could be so simple! HERMES: Now then, Initiate. Did you find the solution to our query? I hesitated, I wasn't sure, it might be too simple, it might even be idiotic. It was all I had, however. With trembling fingers, I hammered my answer into the keys. ANON: The reason these crimes are possible, the true culprit...is the weaponry used by men. This was my answer, this was my solution. I had to wait a while for a response and every second served only to make me more anxious. HERMES:...Weaponry. Very well! This is the first  time we heard this answer, yet it strikes closest to the truth, well done! Now let us show you the true works behind our government, our true leaders. Let us talk about the five Warlords.