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riseatlantisss · 4 years

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Fighter

Anon Request : “Heyy !! If you’re still doing this, I’d love a Witcher one-shot where he trains the reader to sword fight ! The reader feels outmatched and Geralt is harsh but patient. Could u also make it a little flirty/fluffy ??? Thanks <3”

So sorry to be so late on this but I hope you like it !! Request are still open :)

You never understood why Geralt chose to train you to fight. You are not a Witcher nor any other ones of those fantastic great beings one can find on the Continent. The reason, however, turns out to be quite simple….

1,4K words - Geralt of Rivia x gender neutral!reader

Low key inspired by this quote.

English is not my first language, please excuse the mistakes.

Your back ached from the hard blow you just received. Actually, your whole body ached. Yep, sword practice with a witcher will do that to you, you thought as you struggled to get back on your feet. The sun was beating down on you. You wanted to give up and tell Geralt you reached your end. But you knew it would not make a difference. Geralt was many things. Indulgent was not was of them.

“Let this be a lesson,” Geralt announced with authority, “never turn your back on an enemy.” You turned over to see him towering you. He pulled you up on your feet with ease.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry, I did not realize how hard I struck you.” His apology was sincere. You rubbed your back but refused to let him know it actually hurt. Instead, you just nodded and smiled. I can do this.

“Good.” Geralt responded. “Pick up your sword. Let’s do that again.” He walked away and halted at a distance of ten paces. He drew his sword and pointed it right at you, ready for another round.

“Now remember. You must keep your stance composed at all times. Without balance you might as well be unarmed.” He explained, waiting for you to step into position.

You clumsily picked up your wooden sword, pointing it towards the Witcher with a novice-like apprehension. You did your best to stay focused despite the pain and tried to anticipate your opponent’s next moves. You never were good with weapons, swords, all that stuff. Your greatest chance not to bite the dust a second time was to use your brain. And you did that quite well, incidentally.

“Now, try and block my swings.” Geralt ordered.

You remained silent, trying to analyse his posture, the direction of his feet, the breeze of the wind, anything that could give you a hint on what was going to happen next, really. He’s going to run towards me in a few seconds, but he will jump on the left at the last moment, not on the right like last time, you thought, adjusting the orientation of your sword slightly to the left in preparation.

Before you could continue your thinking any further, Geralt moved towards you, jumped to the left - as you anticipated - and brought his sword to your side with force and control. Somehow, you managed to knock the blow back with a shaking hand.

“Good!” Geralt said, encouragingly. “Now, let’s see if you can hit me.” You could hear the mocking invitation in his tone. Fearing the imminent humiliation of trying (and failing) to defeat a Witcher and experimented warrior, you tried to talk your way out of this situation.

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair?” You asked, “I mean, me, a human who can barely hold a sword up, against a Witcher? You could kill me anytime you want just by casting a spell on me, may I remind you.”

“You’re not outmatched because of my abilities, Y/N.” Geralt said, as if it that would make you feel better. “The only way for you to improve is to train. Out in the wild, a beast or a foe won’t give you this opportunity.”

“So be it.” You responded sarcastically, “Let the beast slay me. That’s one way of getting some rest.”

Geralt chuckled. However, he wasn’t going to let you off the hook that easy. “Come on Y/N, stop joking around and show me what you got.”

You gripped the sword with both hands and raised it above you head. You threw yourself towards your instructor as you brought the weapon down with all your might. You did not even see the Witcher step out of the way. The wooden blade of your sword finished its course on the ground, making you lose your balance along the way. Out of breath, you fell down to one knee, feeling the fatigue of this training session surface all at once and take over your body.

“Nice try,” Geralt said above you, reaching out to help you up, once again. “But too bold. You must keep your strikes disciplined. You hand me an opportunity to strike back on a platter. An enemy would not have hesitated.” He walked away a few meters, turned over and faced you. “Again.” He simply said, indifferent to your obvious discouragement and exhaustion.

“It’s no use,” you mumbled, still trying to catch your breath. You sat on the ground and put your head in your hands. You weren’t even able to look at him, too afraid to see disappointment in his eyes. “We both know I shouldn’t be here.” You continued, “I’m not a Witcher. I am not a sorceress. I’ll never be a warrior. I’m nothing…” Tears started to roll down your cheeks, but you refused to let him know you were crying. You felt embarrassed enough as it was. Long seconds passed. At one point, you even thought that he had left but when you finally found the courage to look up, there he was, sitting beside you. He just stayed there for a few seconds, quietly looking at the horizon. Expressionless. It was impossible to know what he was thinking. Was he staying out of pity? To tell you he was disappointed? You weren’t even sure you wanted to find out.

“You know,” Geralt finally said after a long silence, “in my life, and as a Witcher, I run into dilemmas. All the time. Situations where it’s hard to judge, hard to know what’s right, make a decision.” His voice was different now. He had this reassuring and calm tone you so rarely heard from him. No sign of hardness or authority anymore. “When I met you, there was no dilemma. I knew right away that you deserved to have a chance and to show the Continent what you were capable of.” You looked at him in surprise, taken aback by his words. “You think I am training you to make you a soldier?” he asked.

“Why else could you waste your time with me?” You responded, still avoiding his gaze.

Geralt shook his head. “I train you because I want you to be able to defend yourself. Life on the Continent is tough. I want you to become as fierce as the enemies you are bound to make.” He paused to look at you and lifted your chin up with a gentle hand. Your eyes were still glowing with tears, but at this point, you didn’t care if he noticed. “The real truth was that I could not stand to lose you, Y/N.” He was still looking at you as if he was going to say something else, but he didn’t. You were speechless. All this time you thought he trained you to fight to hand you over or even sell you to the Royal Guard or to some rich Lord. You thought he couldn’t wait for you to become somebody else’s problem. He always seemed to be so severe. So serious. But it turned out he cared? About you? You couldn’t believe it. You were wrong on so many levels. You opened your mouth to protest but he didn’t give you the time.

“You fear I will judge you? I won’t.” He said, helping you up a third time. You could hear that familiar harshness in his voice coming back. But this time, it did not scare you. It gave you new strength. “You think you are not strong enough? You are. You have all the weapons you need, Y/N. Now, fight.”

You weren’t crying anymore or avoiding the Witcher’s gaze. You were looking straight into his eyes, feeling an emotion you thought you would never feel again: determination. His words resonated in your mind. He cared for you. More than that: he believed in you. That was all the motivation you needed right now. You have all the weapons you need. You thought as you drew your wooden sword, pointing it up to your instructor, ready to strike. Now fight.

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probably-writing-x · 4 years

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Unexpected

Request from @oldfashiondisturb : The reader is Samuel's sister, and best friend with Nadia, but in love with Guzman since the start of the year. She tries to forget him with Valerio, but some boy aka Guzman is jealous, even if it wasn't planned like this for him, he is the first surprise but he has to do something ? :O

Gif is not my own

Requests are always open❤️

This studying has grown boring almost an hour ago as you flicked relentlessly through pages to keep up with the subject. You, your brother Samuel, and Nadia did this regularly whenever there were exams. It always got dull for you a lot quicker than it did for them but you continued nonetheless. If you actually wanted to pass the year at Las Encinas, you’d have to put up with it.

“Can we take a break?” You groan, tossing your pen down onto the table, “There’s only so much I can do.”

“The test is tomorrow (Y/n)!” Nadia laughs, turning the page in her book and answering the next question with ease.

You run a hand through your hair, “It’s boring! And you know you’ll pass anyway Nadia.”

“She’s just taking Guzman’s influence, right (Y/n)?” Your brother nudges you, a smirk playing on his lips.

You glare at him and try to stop the blush from tainting your cheeks, “We said we wouldn’t talk about that anymore.”

“What? Your obsessive crush on the most annoying boy in our class?”

You hit your brothers arm and stand up from the table, “He’s not that bad. And I’m over it.”

Nadia and Samu share a knowing look and laugh at each other.

“I hate both of you.”

They had a habit of doing this. Ever since you’d first confessed that you might like Guzmán, they’d been set on making little comments to wind you up. Actually, it was Samuel that made the comments and Nadia that laughed at them. Really, she felt quite sympathetic toward you. But they were right - you hadn’t really got over it.

- - - - - -

The test going badly was most definitely an understatement. Maybe you should’ve revised more last night - you could see Nadia inputting answers like she’d been programmed to ace it from the start. You on the other hand? You’d come down to the pool instead to distract yourself.

“Was it really that bad?” It’s Guzmán that questions you as you finish another length of the pool.

You glance up and watch as he walks down the side, eying you for the entire time.

“Wasn’t it for you?” You push yourself up and shift round so you’re sat at the poolside, legs dangling into the water.

He scoffs, “Tests here are always bad for me.”

You smirk a little and run your hands over your slicked hair from the water, setting your goggles onto the surface beside you.

“Lucky for me, I’m a good swimmer,” Guzmán cocks a brow, “I can’t say the same for you.”

“Well, thanks,” You roll your eyes.

You’d grown tired of questioning why you continued to have a crush on this boy. The majority of your conversation with him, which generally only happened at the pool when it was only the two of you, would consist mainly of him mocking you. Other than that? You’d practically be invisible to him around school. He was surrounded by his group and Lu. And you were just Samuel’s sister.

“Don’t wallow in your own self pity, please?” He says as he gears up to start training, “You’ll distract me. And you can’t be that bad.”

It shouldn’t make you blush and you hate yourself for giving into it. But there you were, thankful as he jumped into the water so he wouldn’t see your cheeks turn a burning shade of red.

- - - - - -

“Nadia!” You grin as she walks up toward you and Samuel, always managing to look completely different when she was out of her school uniform.

“Hey!” She smiles, hugging you quickly in greeting, “Sorry I’m a bit late.”

You were all at the club tonight for another party, though they generally consisted of you three sticking with each other - Omar joining you whenever he could.

“It’s not like you were missing much,” Samuel rolls his eyes, glancing around at the growing crowd, “Who’s that?”

All three of you turn towards the boy that had just arrived. He had an appearance that you could already tell would match perfectly in tune with his loud personality. The bold curls on his head, the open arms like he was introducing himself to the world, the bright print on his shirt.

“Lu’s brother,” Guzmán comments as he walks past, heading over to the boy who greets him with a brotherly hug.

You knew Guzmán had probably only gone over because Lu followed behind the boy but you brushed it off quickly. The other boy seemed intriguing but certainly not somebody you’d usually concern yourself with. He seemed far too arrogant, too certain that he would never find anyone as good as himself. But his grin and his carefree attitude seem oddly interesting.

- - - - - -

“So if you take this,” Nadia points to a number on your page that you couldn’t even work out how you’d got to, “And divide it by this... I’ve lost you again?”

You sigh and put your face in your hands, “It’s like I’ve never even learnt it.”

She smiles and tries her best to remain patient, “Thats okay, we can go again if you need to.”

“Is there room for one more in this class?” You don’t recognise the voice as somebody you know but it’s distinctive already - it would only match the new boy.

“You’ll probably be better than I am,” You mutter half to yourself, staring at the page of maths like it would make anymore sense.

“Oh, darling,” He laughs, sitting down in the seat beside you and throwing an arm over your shoulder, “I think you’ve just given yourself a challenge.”

The three of you spend the rest of the period trying to get through this topic before the bell sounds and Nadia packs up for her next lesson.

“I never caught your name,” The boy points out, “I’m Valerio.”

“Valerio,” You repeat, “I’m (Y/n), Samuel’s sister.”

“I don’t care for the family history, you interest me enough on your own.”

And just like that, he seemed a little more intriguing.

- - - - - -

“No seriously Valerio!” You squeal as he lifts you up with ease, spinning you around, “We need to-“

Your laughter soon stops any words from escaping you as he throws you down onto the couch.

“We need to what?” He cocks a brow, hovering above you as he falls closer to your face.

“You’re a distraction,” You comment, referencing the fact that you’d originally come to his house with the intention of studying. Just as you had done the day before, and the day before that.

“(Y/n), you’ve been distracting me since day one.” He mumbles, leaning closer to you as his hands trail up your sides.

Things with him felt exciting. He was living in a whole different realm to what you were used to. He didn’t mock you, didn’t make you nervous - he made you distracted (in more ways than one). You weren’t certain of any feelings for him, any possibility, but he was interesting. And he seemed like a good person beyond this exterior. Though it seemed like neither of you were too fussed about what lay beyond surface level.

He dips down and is just about to kiss you when the door unlocks.

“Valerio!” It’s Lu’s voice.

You watch as he rolls his eyes and presses up to kneel on the couch, “You’re home early.”

“We finished dinner early,” She responds quickly, “I thought you were meant to be studying.”

We. She wasn’t alone.

You push yourself up so you’re now visible to the pair that stood at the door - Lu and Guzmán. Somehow, you and Guzmán make eye contact for a moment and it seems to linger for more than that - like you’re trying to read any expression that crosses his face. But, to your own disappointment, it doesn’t seem like there’s anything.

“With the García?” Lu scoffs, “Come on Valerio, seriously?”

“Lu!”

It’s Guzmán. With an oddly warning tone to his voice.

“I should go,” You say quickly, fumbling to get off from the sofa and grab your jacket.

“Hey, hey, no,” Valerio stops you, standing up beside you and throwing an arm over you, “Is there a problem, Lu?”

She looks between the two of you and tuts, “It won’t last, darling.”

But all you can do is keep your eyes focused on the boy beside her. The boy who now refused to look in your direction. And who oddly seemed to have a completely different energy to him now.

- - - - - -

When you walk in for swim training the next morning, your heart sinks like a lead balloon at the sight of who was just swimming perpendicular to where you walked. Who else would it possibly be?

Guzmán finishes his length and glances up to check the clock, smirking before he turns toward the door. He knew this was the time you always got here in the mornings. Every single time - practically to the exact minute.

“I’m surprised you’re not busy with your new boyfriend,” He calls, not bothering to make any actual effort to look at you properly.

“Shut up Guzmán,” You roll your eyes, setting your towel down on the bench. Maybe he hadnt changed as you’d thought. This still seemed relatively typical.

“What’s he got you doing now? Trying out his latest drug mix? Who can drink the most before they pass out?” He lists, face growing colder and more stern as he speaks.

You don’t respond. Why had you assumed he’d react any differently? You were nothing more to him than somebody to mock, to taunt, to treat as separate from him because you hadn’t grown up like the rest.

“You should be careful with him, (Y/n),” Guzmán says simply, “He’s not like you.”

For the first part of that, he’d impressed you. He’d made it actually sound like he gave a damn. But the second part struck you right back home.

“Not like me?” You scoff, tugging your goggles over your head and hanging them around your neck, “You mean he didnt grow up in a two bedroom flat with three brothers? Or he isn’t only at the school because of a lucky break?”

Guzmán remains silent, his cheeks heating with a tint of red. You take it as just a consequence from fatiguing after swimming.

“Thanks Guzmán but I can take care of myself. That’s what us poor ones do, isn’t it?”

Before he can say anything more, you dive into the water and thank the pool for creating a barrier between the two of you. He’d stay in his lane and you’d stay in yours - literally and metaphorically.

- - - - - -

“Hello beautiful people!” Valerio calls as he walks proudly across the floor towards you and Samuel.

Him and Lu were hosting a party at theirs tonight. It was for some particular reason that you hadn’t paid attention to when Valerio first invited you, but you’d been thankful for the opportunity to avoid some more studying. Things with him had been nothing more than the two of you just having fun to put it simply. It was pretty apparent that you didn’t have feelings for each other. But also apparent that there were other reasons why you needed the distraction. You didn’t care to explain your reasoning to him, and you never pried enough as to find out why he did. For now, you were comfortable with using this to keep your mind off Guzmán. Although maybe it hadn’t been exactly successful in that field yet.

You could tell from his breath as his arm fell around your waist that Valerio had already been drinking enough as it was. You weren’t big on drinking - always growing up fearing when your father would come home drunk. And drugs were a whole different story, with similar reasoning to the first.

“Can I get you guys a drink?” He suggests, swaying into you as he waves his arm at Samuel too.

“I’m fine, thank you,” He shakes his head, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

You’re relieved when Ander and Omar make their way over - hoping they’d at least distract Samuel a bit. He was in no way approving of you spending any time with Valerio, he’d made that very clear. And he’d encouraged you that Nano wouldn’t have let you anywhere near him if he was here.

He turns you to him and holds both arms on your hips, “You look hot tonight.”

You roll your eyes and try to brush him off, “And after how many drinks are you saying that?”

He smirks and leans down to you, lips grazing your ear, “How about I get you up to my level?”

He moves one hand away from you and reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a small clear packet that would be recognisable to anyone. Even the sight of it pools a sickening feeling in your stomach. You’d had far too many sleepless nights on the end of your bed with your brothers, listening to your father’s yelling, smashing, hitting - all as a consequence of the drink and the ‘little white powder’.

“No, no, definitely not,” You try to push him away, hoping he’d be sober enough to get the message and forget it.

“Come on, you’ll love the feeling,” He encourages, waving the packer closer to you like he was taunting a child with a toy.

You try to push away from him again, “Valerio, no.”

Before he can say anything more, there’s somebody between the two of you. They have their back to you and their face close enough to Valerio to instantly intimidate. Originally, you’d assumed it to be your twin brother - expecting Samuel to have the same reaction to the drugs as you had. But the frame is too tall to be Samuel, towering above you. And those broad shoulders can only be owned by one boy.

“Leave her alone, Valerio,” Guzmán’s tone is calm but icy, warning but not stepping above the line.

“Come on!” Valerio chuckles, “It’s a party!”

“I won’t ask you again, man. She told you no, now go take your fucking drugs somewhere else,” He speaks through his teeth, getting closer and closer to Valerio until he grips onto the lapels of his jacket and shoved him away from both of you.

Valerio stumbles just as his sister approaches the outbreak.

“Is there a problem?” She asks with a tone that she’s trying to keep positive.

“Ask your boyfriend, if you can even call him that anymore,” Valerio smirks, swiping a bottle from the table as he pushes through the crowd of people.

Lu looks between you and Guzmán before turning around to follow in the footsteps of her half brother. It’s only then that Guzmán focuses any of his attention on you.

“Are you okay?” He asks, eyes looking between each of yours.

He’s closer to you than he has been before and you take in the scent of his cologne on his torso. Not noticing his height above you until your eyes were in line with his heart.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, thank you,” You fumble, glancing around at the people who were now solely focused on watching what had just unfolded.

He follows your line of sight and smirks, “They’ll always find a reason to watch.”

Your heart is pounding and your vision trying to keep its focus on his face but he’s gone quickly. He takes off into the party where he blended in so easily and you’re stuck once again with that weird, unsettling excitement he always managed to cause.

- - - - - -

The next morning, you arrive to the pool before Guzmán gets there and you feel your excited heart fail for just a second. Why should you expect anything to come from last night? You’d spent this entire school year expecting something to come from every moment you shared with Guzmán. Why would that party have changed anything?

You set your towel down on the side, hold your goggles in one hand, stretch out a little, and prepare to start your training for the day. But you’re interrupted as the door swings open.

In he walks. Torso and legs exposed as he’s covered by the smallest level of material, hair damp from showering and small beads of water trickling down past his pecks.

“Good morning,” He nods, setting his towel down beside yours as he walks straight past you.

“Morning,” You say, following his path with your gaze.

Here goes nothing.

“I just wanted to say thank you for last night,” You begin, keeping your eyes now focused on the tiled floor beneath you.

“You don’t need to thank me,” He says, tone short and a little abrupt.

“I know, but you really didn’t have to do anything and I-“ You fiddle with the strap of your goggles to try to give yourself anything as a distraction, “I don’t know, I just wanted to-“

“It’s fine, (Y/n),” Guzmán smiles quickly, “But I told you he wasn’t good for you.”

“I know,” You nod, “Nothing was ever going to happen between us though.”

“Have you ever had a boyfriend, (Y/n)?” Guzmán interjects and it instantly surprises you that he takes any interest in your life.

You glance up and swallow the lump in your throat, “No.”

He smirks a little, “I didn’t think so.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“See,” He starts walking closer to you, “I convinced myself that last night I was just helping you out, and I would’ve done it to anybody that Valerio had been pestering. But then I realised that all I seemed to focus on for the rest of the night was you - if I’d seen you wear that outfit before, what drink you had in your hand, how many times you made a joke to your brother. I kept focusing on you and I hated it because I couldn’t understand why.”

You’re frozen still as he speaks, now with only one stride between you and him.

“And then it hit me. It was you. The try-hard, innocent, never been kissed, García Domínguez that I’d never really paid much thought to,” He shrugs, “I’ve got Lu pining over every move I make and the only girl I could think about, was you.”

You can’t tell whether to be annoyed at his description of you or utterly dumbfounded by the fact that he’d just confessed this so quickly.

“And that’s why I’ve been showing up to swim on time every morning, why I’ve been checking with Valerio to see if anything’s happened with you, why I keep listening out for anything you say,” He scoffs, “Because, somehow, I’ve fallen for Samuel’s sister.”

He falls silent and looks down at his feet for a moment before speaking again.

“I don’t think I can go to another party where I have to watch you with him, or turn up to Lu’s and expect to see you there too. I don’t want that.”

“Guzmán I-“

“I’ve been a dick to you, a complete and utter dick. But I swear to you I wouldn’t have done any of that if I’d have known how I felt sooner.”

You let out a laugh at that, “Well, thanks.”

“Though,” He takes a half-step toward you, “You are still failing class and a pretty shitty swimmer.”

“And you’re still trying to convince yourself that you’re not as shit as me,” You defend, finally making eye contact with those piercing orbs.

“Well, that’s it, you’ve had my confession,” He finishes, “Shall we swim?”

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weeklyfangirl · 5 years

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Frat Boy Pt. 19

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18

You’re a gal on a mission in this one. And you’re determined to get answers one way or another ;) Share this with a friend and drag them them along for a roller coaster ride too! xx

“This is a bad idea,” Renny muttered. We were parked a street away from the frat house, waiting for the boy who’d been ignoring me the past week to appear and get in his car. Granted, I’d only reached out once, but still. He’d never replied. Never reached out. It was the radio silence that scared me more than any gang tags. Ignorance might be bliss, but conscious ignorance was hell.

After our dinner, I’d woken up to my car in the driveway. The windshield clean. Spotless, even. He must’ve hardly gotten sleep.

“Why is this necessary again? Do you think he’s cheating on you?” Renny asked.

I shook my head too quickly at the word cheating, because even if he was seeing somebody else it wouldn’t technically be cheating. We’d never even defined this. The only thing I hated more than knowing I was in the dark were gray zones. I shook my head too soon, though. What else could I tell her? I couldn’t exactly tell her the truth - that I think I’m being targeted as a cause of Harry’s random association with a gang and that we need to follow him to confirm my crazy conspiracies so I can affirm that one, I am not crazy, and two, I can reach a decision about whether I should talk to the cops.

That was too complicated.

“Actually, you’re right. I think he’s seeing someone else.” I let the lie slip from my lips.

“Shit. You think he’s seeing Viv?”

I wanted to smile at the edge in her voice. The first evidence she didn’t really like the girl either. “He already told me they slept together,” I said casually, as though I’d mentioned I ate Cheerios for breakfast again.

Renny almost spat. “Ew!! Seriously? I mean, I guess we kind of already thought that. But still…-” she shivered “-GROSS.”

“Yeah. Gross,” I agreed. Something stirred next to the bins, and I clutched her arm. But it wasn’t Harry. The random associate walked on, blissfully unaware of the two girls watching his every move and so completely disappointed by his presence. We both sighed.

“Wait, he’s behind him!” Renny screeched.

Sure enough, Harry emerged, trailing behind the associate. His hair looked damp. He’d probably showered after practice, then. They did some sort of weird bro handshake and parted ways.

A beep of an alarm and Harry slid into his Maserati. Let the chase begin.

“Still can’t believe he drives that thing to school,” Renny muttered. “I mean I would if I had one, too, but … cheating prick.”

I had to hand it to Renny. Even if someone was the most likeable person in the world, if they’d done something to cross her friends, she’d find a way to make them the most detestable. At least in her eyes.

We waited as he revved the engine and pulled out. He drove fast, but thankfully Renny’s VW could keep up. Grandpa would’ve been a different story.

“Where the hell are we going?”

“I don’t know.” I fought the urge to add ‘that’s the problem.’

We travelled towards the coast before he senselessly veered inland again, ending up somewhere I’d never been before. We trailed him slowly, past locked up storefronts, and tagged alleyways, until he turned into a gritty-looking neighborhood. We slowed around the corner, making sure to keep several streets between us.

Around the bend, Harry suddenly slammed on his brakes. Renny lurched forward.

“What the fuck-” Renny ducked lower in her seat. “Do you think he saw us?”

In the split two seconds I had, I wagered our chances of reversing and getting through this unseen. But my split two seconds were up, and I hadn’t moved.

The motor ran as he got out of the car, calmly, not bothering to shut the door. He’d known. He’d known all along. Time slowed when he faced us, arms crossed, squinting as his judgement penetrated through his Ray Bans all the way through the windshield. He stalked towards our car. No one was around in the rundown neighborhood street to yell at us to get our cars moving. No one could save me from this eternal embarrassment slowly mounting with each step of his black Chelsea boots.

The gig was up.

I rolled down my window when he tapped on the glass.

“Go home,” he ordered.

I scoffed. “Really? You haven’t talked to me all week and those are the first words you’re going to say to me?”

He stepped backwards, acknowledging nothing. “Go. Home,” pointing the direction whence we came.

“We weren’t even following you. We were already in the neighborhood asshole!” Renny yelled.

I couldn’t have it end like this. I couldn’t have another week of silence, of questions unanswered. The plan was to follow him and see where he ran off to, not utterly expose my desperation. But now that plan was obliterated. Was this it? Was this seriously how he wanted to end things so… pointlessly?

I opened the car door, running after his sulking frame. The second I placed a hand on his shoulder blade, he whipped around. I cowered.

He hadn’t needed to bare his teeth or shout at me to be intimidating. This oppressive darkness rolled off of him in waves, knocking me down repeatedly just when I saw the shore. Like a tired sailor, I’d return to the ocean, knowing the damage it could cause, but knowing it was worth it. It would be worth it… if I could only see beneath the surface.

He flinched as I pulled the shades off, but he didn’t look at me. My hand went along his jaw, against the slight stubble that’d made its way through. He relented.

His pupils were blasted, almost shadowing the outer ring of green.

“I changed because of you,” I breathed. Something flashed in his eyes. Something beneath the darkened surface. “I’m not the same as I was before. And I don’t know even know how to… express it. I don’t even know if that’s a good thing,” I admitted. He opened his mouth, but I raised a hand. “I need to know what you’re not telling me. The old me could’ve gone without it, but who I am now? I can’t.”

But it was like he only heard half of what I’d said. “I never asked you to be in my life, Y/N.”

“No, that’s right. You just swindled me into it by pretending to be dumb. You’re a little too good of an actor.”

It was his turn to scoff. “No one’s making you run after me.”

“No one’s making you be a complete and utter asshole right now, either. Besides yourself. Can you just-” I pushed his chest- “PLEASE. I’m clearly tired of getting nowhere.”

Harry looked at his watch, and his jaw clicked. “You know for someone so concerned with their life, you certainly don’t seem to have much of one.” His eyes bore into mine.

I swallowed, hard, unmoving though it stung. “I know Viv’s in on it.”

It was a stab in the dark, but it worked. He nearly growled.

I heard Renny open her door behind me.

“She’s involved in a lot of parts of my life, Y/N. But at least she doesn’t ask too many questions. And she sure as shit doesn’t overstep,” he growled.

“We both know I’m not Viv.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “You’re right…” His eyes levelled with mine. At least she actually fucks me.”

I felt like he should’ve stayed, watch the awful betrayal fill my eyes. But he walked away as the air was ripped from my lungs. I wanted to scream, I wanted to run up to him, push him to the ground and tell him-!

...tell him what?

It was true.

He paused at the car door, not even trying to face me. “Get yourself home.”

I didn’t see him drive away. I just heard the slam of the car door as he left me, halfway up the hill.

Renny pulled the car up next to me, and I suddenly felt dirty. Like I needed a shower. A very hot, scalding shower, that would burn every inch of him off my body forever.

“What’s the plan?” she asked.

Clearly, our plan to trail the subject in very deep question had turned out very deeply miserable.

In a close encounter, the sailor realizes fairly quickly that the ocean holds all the power to kill them. But the second they acknowledge that, they don’t abandon what they’re looking for.

“Can you drop me off at a friend’s?” I asked.

They just get a bigger ship.

-----------

The just-built senior apartments were the envy of everyone on campus. Modern architecture and sleek interior made it THE choicest option for the upperclassmen - especially the athletes. It was the next best thing for those not living in fraternities or sororities.

It was also the most expensive on-campus housing available. You could live there if you were rich enough, but more importantly, if you were lucky enough. There was one other way you could live here, though. Chapman held a raffle to “make our housing opportunity equal for everyone.” Which, was bullshit, considering the apartment only reserved four out of sixty rooms for those “raffle winners.” Four raffle winners, out of four THOUSAND upperclassmen.

Felix and Zayn had some pretty insane luck.

I knocked on their door, antsy as I thought of their probable reaction: “Why is Y/N standing beyond our door on a Thursday night without Renny?” She was my strongest link to them. I’d begged her to come up with me, but she wasn’t budging. Though she wouldn’t admit it, she was a little annoyed at spending the whole day only to have found no other woman and to have been told off by Harry - who she now deems worse than Lying Panty Tossing Baby.

A tall athletic-built woman eyed me as she carried their trash down the hall.

Felix opened the door.

“Oh, hey.” It was the awkward I remember you but we aren’t friends dance. “S’been a while. Come in.”

I noticed he was at least 6’ 2” as I moved past him into the foyer where Zayn and Andre paused the video game. They had a whole tech center set up around the T.V. and dull EDC music came from their speaker system.

Andre waved and Zayn’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Hey! What’re you doing here?” He moved a pizza box out of his way to head to the open kitchen. Before I could answer, he returned with a cracked beer, handing it to me.

“Thanks,” I said, taking a sip out of politeness. Old Da Vinci maps hung on their walls along with tasteful sketches of nude women, and a framed vintage Star Wars poster was in the hallway.

“Where’s Renny?” Felix asked, arms crossed as he sat on the arm of the couch. He’d meant it to be casual, but it wasn’t quite casual enough.

I didn’t want to be the one to break his heart and tell him about Niall if he didn’t already know. And something told me Renny wasn’t cruel enough to rub it in his face. “Uh, not sure. She had to buzz off somewhere though.” To Niall’s bed. I looked between the three of them. “All of you got so. Lucky. With this place. I almost didn’t believe it when Renny told me.”

“Not me!” Andre lifted his beer and dramatically pounded it, slamming it down on the table next to the other four beers.

“Woah-ugh! Pa! That’s mahogany!” Felix spluttered.

“You found it at a garage sale!”

“It’s still mahogany!” he squeaked. His gangly arms flailed before adjusting his collar. “Either I’m never donating furniture to this apartment again - or you’re not allowed back in this apartment again. Or both.”

Andre didn’t answer, just fell flat on the couch. Something was off with him. The energy shifted in the room as the guys eyed Andre. I’d clearly come at a wrong time.

“I can swing by later, I know you guys were in the middle of a... game…”

Zayn swatted his hand. “No, you’re fine. He’s just…”

Andre perked up, awaiting Zayn’s next words.

“You want to tell her?” Zayn finished.

Andre let out an awkward moan. “You know how date night is coming up?”

My brows stitched.

“No??” He cleared his throat, surprised he had to explain. “So Sig Chi’s date night is coming up and basically we just bring a date, and… party. There’s a theme and everything. You really haven’t heard about this?”

I shook my head.

“Huh. It’s kind of a big deal that’s why I’m kind of... huh.”

“When is it?” I asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!” I paused, thoroughly confused. Had Niall told Renny about this? And if it was Sigma Chi then… Harry must already have a date. For tomorrow. My blood boiled thinking that could be part of the reason why he’d dropped off the face of the Earth this week. So he wouldn’t have to take me as his date.

“Mine cancelled on me,” Andre said, running a hand over defined black coils.

“Dude, for the hundredth time, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“You’re not the one in a frat, Felix!” He laughed humorlessly before landing in a pile on the couch again. In a rare moment, I laughed with him. It was slightly ridiculous how important parties were.

“Oh-kay,” Felix muttered. His blonde hair flopped on the couch next to Andre. He looked up to me, shrugging. “He’s helpless. Without the distraction of video games. Absolutely helpless.”

Zayn gave me a once-over. “You’re in the sorority with Renny, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yeah. Kind of. Not officially official yet. Kind of in the process of everything right now. Uh, but” -his eyes narrowed from my rambling- “Yeah. Yeah, I’m in it,” I settled on.

Andre came to life again. “Would you go with me?”

“Oh! Uh…”

“You don’t have to,” Zayn offered.

“I can do it. I wasn’t doing anything anyways.” The Netflix I was betraying threw a tantrum in the back of my mind. This weekend I’d been wanting to do nothing but lay low, and preferably, in bed.

But if today taught me anything, it’s that my plans clearly never work out too well.

“Seriously?! It’ll only be a couple hours, I won’t make you stay the whole time. Actually, you can leave whenever you want. Just walk in with me.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, half-smiling.

“Okay, that sounded bad.” He let out a breathless laugh. “What I meant to say was, thank you. You’ll have a great time.” He threw up the finger guns.

Zayn nudged my shoulder with his beer. “Want to go on the balcony?” His eyes bore into mine, and I knew that he knew this wasn’t just a friendly visit. A slight chill ran through me at his perception. It was unnerving how he always seemed to… know. But I guess I shouldn’t judge him for having a keen sixth sense.

I let him lead me to the sliding glass door.

“Oh, the theme’s James Bond, too! So dress like a Bond girl!” Andre called after us.

“Like heels?” I asked. But Zayn slid the door shut behind us. It was dark out, but inside I could see Andre give me a thumbs up before resuming the video game with Felix.

“Saved his life. Mate wouldn’t stop gabbin’ ‘bout how gutted he was.” Zayn muttered. The flick of a lighter grabbed my attention. The slight orange illuminated dark features and hollowed cheeks as he took a drag. There was no denying he was handsome, especially in this mood lighting. He probably could’ve been recruited for any fraternity off looks alone, but something told me he wouldn’t step near the place. His vibe was too… anti-organization. He blew the smoke over his shoulder.

“Very tortured artist of you,” I noted.

His head tilted at tortured as if throwing the title back to me. “Artist, maybe. Tortured, no.”

“What’s a yes for you, then?”

“Yes to whateva you’ve been plannin’ on asking me,” he smirked. “Must’ve been important if you didn’t find me in the studio.”

I looked down, then out at the city. Thousands of little people scattered everywhere. Students crawling from late-night classes on the fringes of campus looked like ants. I held my thumb up for scale. Verified ants. Maybe smaller.

“I came here to find a different perspective.” My hand fell. I faced him square. “Your perspective.”

He took another drag, letting the smoke fill the space between us. “On?”

I was a little surprised he didn’t know.

“Harry.”

If he didn’t know, he also didn’t seem too surprised. He leaned against the railing, hazel eyes undressing desperate thoughts. “What do you want to know?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

The ash from his cigarette floated down to his feet, but an unseen wind carried it up again, rolling over and down like dirty snowflakes to the street below.

“I know he doesn’t like you.”

Zayn’s laugh was light, soft, but carried the same fullness as Renny’s. “Perceptive girl, ya? S’not what you want to know though is it.”

“Why is he so scared of you?” His brow arched, and I could tell I was losing him. “What do you know?” I clarified.

Another drag and his shoulders straightened. “Thought you were flatterin’ me there for a second.” Something glimmered in his eyes, something just beyond the surface, and I looked away before I could see anything more than friendly. “Can I ask you somethin’ in return?”

I nodded.

“Why do you want to know?” he murmured.

“I just want to understand.”

“Mm,” he hummed, the treble of his voice like slow-spilling silk. “Curiosity killed the cat.”

I swallowed a little too loudly, but his words hit a little too closely.

“S’all right,” he continued. “S’human nature t’want to understand.” He cocked his head a little. “I actually met Harry before school started during the summer. I was working at Hilltop Resort.”

“Really?”

“I was his server.” He let out a short breath as if he couldn’t believe it happened. “Tipped well, actually.”

“I remember you working there!” Faint summer memories of Renny whisking us away for lunch on our treat yourself day came back, stirring faint feelings of happiness. It seemed so long ago. I felt like I’d aged five years in three months. “So let me get this straight. He doesn’t like you because you’re in the service industry?” I spat.

He winced. “No, s’more like…” He took a breath. “There was a coworker of mine. He wasn’t mean, but he wasn’t exactly nice either. Kept to himself on breaks, never really chatted with any of us except to flirt with the bartender. Anyway, I used to see Harry a lot there, but when Jack got promoted Harry’d only sit in Jack’s section.”

I crossed my arms, the night time air finally sinking in.

“I didn’t think too much of it at first,” he admitted. The cigarette moved in his mouth, hand fiddling with the lighter. “But one night I was running out to give a guest the card they’d left behind, but I saw them together instead.”

Before I could picture Harry and Zayn’s coworker making out against the wall, he continued - “He was giving Harry stacks of cash.”

Flashbacks of Viv trying to pass Harry money in the Catalina Island bar played out like a movie in my mind.

“What’d you do?” I pressed.

He shrugged. “I saw Harry slip something else in his pocket. It looked like a little bag. Must’ve been a bonus.” He muttered the last words.

“A bonus for what?”

“I didn’t know then. I just thought he’d somehow found a way to steal from the manager’s safe and was splitting the profits.”

“Why give it to Harry though?”

“That’s what I couldn’t figure out.” He leaned in. “I saw them together a few more times. The second was an accident. Third, not so much. Harry saw me that time. Then before I left for the night, I searched his locker. Took me a while, but I found some pills. Little bag of coke, too. He came in right when I was putting it back.”

“No.”

“Yeah. He didn’t say anything. Just stared at me like he was going to kill me. I got my shit and got the hell out of there. Next day, the boss said they received a tip to check my locker and they found the drugs in mine. You know the fucked up bit? I was fired.”

“But it wasn’t yours!”

“Doesn’t matter. Still found it there.” Zayn stamped out his cigarette, blowing away the last smoke. I guess pity was etched in my face, because he suddenly turned defensive. “Don’t look at me like that. I work at Javier’s now. I’m fine.”

Javier’s was the fancy Mexican restaurant overlooking the Pacific. He was doing more than fine.

“That’s still not fair to you,” I muttered.

“I didn’t want to be involved, anyway. S’better I left one way or another.”

“What was his name again? Your coworker’s?”

“Jack.”

Jack. Why did that sound so familiar?

“He’s not sound, you know,” Zayn added.

“Well clearly if he gave you murder eyes.”

“No, not Jack. Harry. He’s not…”

“Sound,” I repeated. The word felt heavy on my tongue.

Zayn nodded, tucking a cigarette behind his ear.

“I can’t believe Harry got you fired.”

“Well, I don’t exactly know. Jack must’ve been the one to move the drugs into my locker.”

“Yeah, but who told him to?”

Zayn didn’t answer. The facts had been there this entire time, but I didn’t want to see it. I still didn’t want to see it. But Zayn was here, undeniably linking them together for me. Harry and drugs and money were three things that’d been circulating in the same place much longer than I could know. For some reason beyond me, Harry was a dealer. Or ran as head of them. Which meant his association with the men who’d assaulted me was… what? A business deal gone wrong?

“England’s a small country, you see the same faces everywhere. Like here, if you’re perceptive enough. And in each, he’s jus’... involved in something bigger, while at the same time trying to hide. S’like he’s a magnet for infamy to his own detriment.”

“Are you referring to his adoption?”

He twisted the cigarette behind his ear, realizing I didn’t really need an answer to this question and that now I was just testing him for what he knew. “Contrary to what he may believe, I don’t know everything.”

But I couldn’t fight the feeling that he was talking about me. Smooth artist’s fingers fiddled with the lighter again, but he didn’t light the second cigarette. He knew more than what he was telling me.

But even the new me didn’t want to hear much else tonight.

“You don’t want to stay?” he asked.

I didn’t realize I was walking towards the door ‘til his words stopped me in my tracks. Disappointment tinged his words. I felt a little guilty, heading out the door as soon as I’d gotten what I’d needed.

But I was tired. And sadly, unless there was a sketch pad in front of him, I didn’t know what else we could talk about. I didn’t know what else he’d see.

I shook my head, and he lit the cigarette, not bothering to walk me out.

------

Racing down the spindly halls, my heart pounded out of my chest. I heard the cries above the whispers of the Watchers, and they grew louder with a sickening urgency. A gutteral wailing meant for me.

I looked down the hall, awaiting the dark shadow to appear from the walls, when he’d creep closer, suffocatingly closer.

The door wouldn’t open, not past an inch.

But he called for me, this time. My name fell from unseen lips.

“Y/N,” he called. It was hoarse. He was scared. I’d never heard that cry before. This time it wasn’t solid air the door was against - it was pills. Tiny pills, hundreds of them, thousands of them, multiplying on top of each other until they filled what I could see of the room. Until they were spilling out the crack.

“Y/N!!!” His voice was panicked, but muffled. It was muffled now. Why wasn’t he opening the door?? Why couldn’t he reach me?? The shadow drew closer. It surrounded me, outside, every inch of the hall covered by darkness.

My heartbeat was the only sound.

A waterfall of pills. The glint of a knife.

I couldn’t reach him in time.

I couldn’t save Harry.

I couldn’t even save myself.

part 20

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ralfmaximus · 4 years

Text

Living with a Smart Gun

Marta decided she needed a gun after the boost had gone wrong.

Oh, technically, it’d gone flawlessly – 1.2B New Yen siphoned away from Bank Shanghai and into six different offshore accounts, undetected – but when she’d gone to get paid… that’s when things went sour.

She wasn’t a people person. Normally the human relations aspect of her work were handled by Konroy, but he’d fled the country temporarily and hadn’t returned her calls in weeks. She needed to eat. So she’d dug through his list of contacts, found a likely client, and reached out. The job specs they’d sent her seemed easy enough, and it was.

But upon meeting with the lovely folks behind the mail address she realized her mistake: upon delivery she had no leverage over them. The money was boosted, and they had the account numbers and passwords. To her dismay they even had the keys to her secret, 7th account, the one she’d nabbed for herself. Apparently they’d had a tech of their own shadowing her the whole time and she’d been careless.

Hunger will do that to you, she mused, as they broke her left arm, laughing. They beat her ass out into the alley behind the gaming parlor and walked away without looking back. She’d wanted to kill them all at that moment, and if only she’d had a gun…

Broken arm, at least one broken rib, and both eyes swollen shut. Missing tooth.

Konroy wouldn’t have let this happen. But he was gone. She needed to protect herself now. Laying on damp concrete among cardboard boxes and dumpsters, her left arm a shrieking, grinding agony, Marta pulled up a list of clinics from Konroy’s little black book. She selected one certified to install Personal Protection systems and left a message before passing out.

The black clinic was clean and bright, the black part referring only to its off-the-grid status. They never asked questions.

Marta lay in an antique dentist chair, her left arm gripped in padded waldos. It had already been peeled open, radius and ulna exposed, a soft green laser rotating as it mapped the break. She was numb from the shoulder down; a spinal block.

The nameless tech hummed as she worked, watching her arm rotate in 3D on a monitor.

“A simple break, easily repaired,” the tech nodded in satisfaction. “We’ll have you out of here in thirty minutes.”

“Question,” Marta held up her right hand. The tech swiveled to peer at her with calm eyes.

“You install PP systems here, right?”

Without reacting, the tech nodded. “Certified in all forms of PPS. Do you wish to review a catalog?”

“No. I know what I want.” Marta reeled off a make and model number from memory. She’d been researching.

The tech paused, not exhibiting surprise so much as a delay while she accessed databases. Eventually she shook her head slowly. “That model is—“

“Yes, I know. Proscribed.” Marta used her good right hand to indicate the duffel she’d brought with her into the exam room. It was stuffed with New Yen scrip, but they both knew that.

The tech accessed databases again and nodded after a moment. “Yes, that unit is in stock.”

“Well, I want one. Make it happen.”

“Your left arm?”

“Since it’s already open, sure.”

Another pause, the tech’s expression gone blank. “There is a difficulty. Your augmentations are rated at level 5. The smart gun you have requested requires level 6 or higher.” She stopped there, watching silently.

Marta nodded, closed her eyes, entered the crystal wind. Found the public certification boards where her profile lived and… adjusted them. So far as the government now knew she was level 6, certified to work on ESA/ROSCOSMOS space probes and (she noted ironically) smart surgical systems.

Her black rating, if that were something that could be calculated, she imagined as double digits. She opened her eyes and told the tech to check again.

Without discernible surprise the clinician nodded after reviewing the files. “We will need to replace your left ulna, something custom-milled.”

“I know. I’ve read the installation guide.”

The tech switched gears. “Left-handed use is not unheard of, but recommended installation is in the right arm.”

“Don’t wanna mess these up,” Marta waved her tattoos at the tech. Another nod.

“Finally, there will be a bulge. Your skeletal structure is small; the weapon, while compact is—“

“I’m fine with that. Just do it.”

Marta waited three days before peeling the bandages off. Her left arm was discolored from bruising but otherwise pain-free. The extra weight took her by surprise, but she quickly adjusted.

The gun’s embedded manual suggested a week of convalescence before test-firing, since the thing was still knitting itself into her arm, nano-filaments working themselves up to her shoulder for bracing. Using the weapon too soon, despite its recoilless nature, would tear things apart.

That suited her fine. She also had to figure out how to work the damned thing. And so far, its interface was… confusing.

The Crimson Storm Flower 2 (firmware revision 14c) was a typically Chinese name for something so deadly. Its gatling array could fire 1200 rounds per minute of tiny hyper-velocity pellets, or select from a wide array of flechette-slivers: everything from explosives to non-lethals. Marta wondered what use the EMP rounds would be; if her own systems were shielded well enough to even try those. She decided she didn’t know enough to risk it.

Consumables were surgically replaced whenever they ran low. Hopefully, never. She didn’t intend to switch careers or even use the thing except in emergencies.

But the gun’s UI pissed her off. In fact, she couldn’t find one. The armory stores and configuration stuff presented themselves immediately, but she couldn’t find how to actually, you know, pull the trigger.

Also, her dreams had been weird.

She’d grown used to strange dreams over the years as her meat-net whispered to the metal-net in her brain. That was something all IT workers dealt with nowadays. There were OTC medications to help with that.

But lately she’d felt like something – an animal, a presence – had been stalking her. Circling her defenses looking for a way in. There’d even been a few violent nightmares, replays of that night in the alley, where she’d aimed her left arm at the bastards who’d hurt her and instead of doing anything her left arm had fallen off. A cheap plastic doll arm, laying in a puddle. The beating had continued longer than it had in reality, until she awoke screaming on twisted sheets.

None of the Storm Flower manuals suggested how to fire it. She’d reviewed every file, even snuck out into the Chinese mil.net to search for more. The weapon simply didn’t exist except as catalog entries in various black clinics.

One anonymous forum post suggested that Flower was a military experiment. Something tried and discarded, its specs plundered by pirates and sold now on the streets. Or maybe it was a controlled experiment: let the criminals work out the kinks while the military observed from a distance.

Marta’s wounds healed, and the day came when she wanted to test-fire her new toy. She rented time at a gun range and stood, alone, in the tiny, dank bunker, left arm pointed helplessly at a paper target.

Fire. Launch. Activate.

She thought every command she could think of into the weapon’s control matrix but… nothing. She’d even looked up the Chinese equivalents and tried those. Then Spanish, Russian, and even Norwegian. Maybe the weapon’s makers had intended Flower for a specific foreign market.

But no. Nothing happened. Everything felt right – her internal net insisted everything was linked, fiber running a complete path from ulna to spine to brain.

Maybe it was defective.

With a sigh she lowered her arm and dialed the clinic’s number, leaving a message requesting a follow-up visit. These things happened, but dammit she’d paid so much and the disappointment was quickly morphing into rage. Those fuckers. They’d taken her money, smiling as they sawed her arm to pieces. She envisioned the smug clinician’s reaction when she—

Snick.

Her left arm thrummed gently like a motor applying torque to her body. The odd feeling spread up into her shoulder where—

She looked down. A tiny black multi-port muzzle protruded from her arm, completely surrounded by flesh. As if somebody had jammed a gun part directly into her skin and left it there. Marta lifted her arm carefully. It felt pinned by gyros, locked on rails, moving precisely if randomly, wherever she pointed it.

In quiet astonishment, rage gone, she watched as the sliver of black metal slid back under the surface of her arm and vanished.

Snick.

Something locked home inside the bone. The thrumming stopped.

Huh. Flower liked strong emotion, it seemed. Maybe it detected adrenaline and other stress hormones. But that seemed stupid, imprecise. There had to be a way to actually, you know, control it.

The Midtown clinic didn’t return her messages. She walked by the place and it was empty, a realtor’s barcode in the window. Marta quelled the impulse to stop and peer into the dim storefront but the white van parked across the street dissuaded her. The vehicle looked entirely too clean, too government for her tastes. They might as well have painted Homeland Security on its side, so she walked on by.

To keep up the appearance of normalcy she stopped at a sidewalk café two doors down and sat at a table with an umbrella, van within her field of view. She ordered unsweet tea from a waiter wearing a black apron.

When her tea came she took a sip and involuntarily grimaced. Atlanta iced tea came in two varieties: sweet and unsweet. Proper ‘sweet’ tea was made with equal parts sugar and tea; it was undrinkable, something to supercharge kids with before turning them loose in a bouncy castle.

“Excuse me,” she stood, holding the disgustingly sweet beverage out to the server. “I ordered—“

Snick.

Her arm thrummed. Without looking she knew what the server saw, why he dropped his tray and ran. It didn’t matter: she saw his leg explode in a haze of bloody shreds the microsecond Flower coughed.

One target tracked, targeted, explosive flechette selected, fired, target disabled the after-report appeared in her mind. Wow. The manuals were right: virtually no recoil. The glass of tea in her left hand hadn’t even wobbled.

Behind her she heard van doors slamming, and she turned.

Two armored Homeland troopers thundered toward her, SMGs held low. Before she processed this completely they were both down.

Two targets tracked, targeted, armor piercing selected, fired, targets disabled.

Next, the van exploded, one white door sailing over her head to clang against the restaurant’s brick facade.

Vehicle disabled, the after-log finished. She barely had time to scan the whole thing before her arm went snick and Flower shut down. She hadn’t spilled a drop of tea; she drank it all down in one long gulp.

Konroy’s face was a ghost swirling in pixels. His connection was so dreadful it must’ve been bounced through a dozen proxies. From the lag Marta suspected there was at least one satellite involved.

“You did what?”

His voice was razorblades slicing chipmunks. She repeated herself.

“Read me the model number again?”

He’d reacted with amusement about her buying a gun. Her, the tree-hugging hippie cybercriminal who’d once made him take a spider outside rather than kill it. After she transmitted him Flower’s specs he’d sobered up quickly.

“Honey, that’s the blackest of black tech.”

“Do we deal in any other kind?”

“What?”

“Nevermind. Look, I can’t find a clinic that’ll talk to me about it. Can you—“

“Sorry, you’re breaking up.”

“I need a clinic that does PPS. Like, immediately.”

“Honey—“

The connection washed away in a burst of static then miraculously cleared.

“Konroy? I need—“

“I’ll send you a list of the ones I know. But you already have that, I reckon.”

She nodded, wondering if he could see her. “Surely there’s more?”

“Not exactly a growth industry, especially since the crackdown. If I knew you were gonna—“

The connection broke then, went totally blue. Returned full-screen with Homeland Security’s eagle-clutching-wires logo, which she glimpsed only for a second before slapping the call closed.

Seconds later the phone was in pieces, its battery tossed down a sewer grate, the rest of it in various bushes and dumpsters as she walked. In annoyance she realized Flower had popped open and closed without her noticing… that told her how upset she was more than anything else.

Her dreams became violent. She was a gun, and the world was a rich tapestry of target reticules. Most were green (friendly) but some were not (red) and every time a red one was targeted and destroyed she orgasmed.

After these dreams she woke up exhausted, panties askew, the mattress damp.

While she and Konroy had had plenty of sex, they’d never had orgasms together.

One sleepless night Marta got drunk on tequila and walked up to the first white van she saw, stood outside it with arms outstretched. After a few moments the doors slid open and she was surrounded by Homeland troopers. She tried to warn them about Flower but they were all dead before she opened her mouth.

Then of course, the van exploded.

Marta boosted enough capital to hire an ex-military surgeon from mainland China. She met with him in a hotel room near the airport, where he examined her arm, scanning Flower with instruments he assembled from a pair of aluminum briefcases.

“I do not recognize this weapon,” he announced finally. “But that does not mean we did not make it. Much goes on, in the, you know…”

“I know,” she sighed. “Can you get it out of me?”

He sat back, pondering. “Eventually it will run out of consumables.”

“So I gathered. But I don’t want to wait that long, it’ll take months. Until then I’m afraid to go outside.”

“You do not understand,” he blew out his cheeks. “The weapon, it has bonded with your endocrine system. You and it are one. When it runs out of ammunition it will want more. A gun without bullets is useless, and it wants to be useful.”

“Yeah, so? I’ll just ignore it. If it pops out no big deal. I’ll wear long sleeves forever.”

“I have not explained well. The gun, it will… need more ammunition. Consider it a form of addiction.”

Her stomach dropped. “Addiction? Like heroin?”

The Chinese doctor beamed at her. “Yes! Precisely so. In fact glutamate and dopamine are the—“

She found herself standing, head pounding, shouting. “Get this thing out of me, now! I don’t want—“

Snick

Marta eventually found a clinic in Taiwan that could service the gun. She didn’t miss Atlanta, and everyone around her spoke English anyway. Homeland Security never bother her anymore, not over here.

A network of Flower owners had sprung up around the planet about the time she’d gotten her implant. She discovered her experience was not uncommon, and within this new, strange family she found a place: boosting cash for the collective, so ammunition was never a problem.

Meditation and medication helped control incidents. The collective cheerfully displayed an old-style “44 Days Since Last Accident” cardboard sign in the main dining room with detachable numbers that incremented – or zeroed – over time.

Soon she and the others like her boosted enough capital to purchase a small island off the coast of Taiwan, and moved the clinic there. They began manufacturing Flowers and even improving the design. Children were born and fitted with their own guns as soon as their bones stopped growing, usually in their late teens.

The Chinese project responsible for the creation of the weapon had contacted them a few times, threatened a few times, finally backed off when they were invited to come get their guns back if they could. They tried once, and the score was 27 dead Chinese commandos to zero collective members.

It was just prior to that engagement that Marta had her second, right-arm Flower installed, damn the tattoos.

Fifteen years after that, Marta returned to Atlanta.

Amazingly, the gaming bar where she’d received her beat-down still existed. She entered the place through the alley door they’d dragged her through, walked past uncaring workers in the kitchen and into the smoke-filled main room.

She recognized none of the faces, did not expect to. Wasn’t even sure if this place still hosted the gang who’d hired her forty years ago, or if they even existed. She hadn’t bothered to check.

Marta stood in the center of swirling chaos, of pinging slot machines, of laughing gamers, of pounding late 20th century dubstep, commandeered the PA system via the crystal wind and pitched her voice to be heard over all. Everything crashed to a halt.

“Somebody piss me off. I dare you.”

Many eyes were on her when Marta raised her arms, letting loose black sleeves fall. She stood like that, arms upheld as goal posts, eyes closed.

It took a few moments, but eventually she got her wish.

#writing #me #cyberpunk #remastered

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master-thief-gray-shadow · 4 years

Text

A Real Life Coffee Shop Romance

Chapter 3

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next chapter

Summary: Sayo isn’t one for fancy coffee. But she does trust Tsugumi’s taste.

Notes: At this point I would like to thank my friend @lovestruckbear for help with some details, genuinely would not be able to work out some stuff in this fic without your coffee expertise.

Reluctantly, Tsugumi raised the freshly brewed coffee to her lips. Even on a Sunday like today, the shop was always quiet right after opening, which gave her a small window of time to make something for herself. Normally she would make something sweeter, but she had realized that this was a great time to practice making americanos. This was smoother than the one she made yesterday, and she could actually taste the chocolate and caramel notes in the roast, but it was still bitter, and it made her grimace.

“What? Tsugumi-san, are you not drinking a mocha today?” Turning around, Tsugumi noticed Eve standing behind her, looking worried. “That’s black coffee, isn’t it? But you don’t like black coffee.”

Tsugumi just smiled at her. “No, but I want to get better at making it. I can’t really tell how much I’m improving if I don’t test it, can I?”

A look of determination fell over Eve, the one that indicated she was shifting into full bushido mode. “Tsugumi-san,” She said, her fist clenched, “There is no need to force yourself to suffer like this. I will taste the coffee for you.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” Tsugumi said with a small laugh as she set the cup down. “This is kind of a personal thing, so I have to be the one to taste it.”

“Ah, I understand,” Eve said, nodding sagely. “There is something driving you towards perfection, and you are doing whatever it takes to achieve it, even at your own expense. The essence of bushido!” Eve returned to her earlier task of setting out muffins that had been made earlier for display, but didn’t seem quite ready to drop the subject yet. “What inspired you so, by the way?”

Tsugumi hid the rising blush on her face with her hand. “Somebody told me they liked the way I make black coffee the other day,” She said, perhaps a little too quietly. “It made me want to get even better, you know?”

“Of course!” Eve stood up, clapping her hands together excitedly. “Nothing can inspire such intense passion like love can!”

“Oh, no no, it’s not like that,” Tsugumi said, waving her hands fervently in front of her. “We’re just friends, nothing more.” Why did everyone assume there was something romantic going on? Sure, perhaps the idea was a fun little fantasy, but the reality of things was a lot less exciting.

“Oh, I see.” Eve sounded almost disappointed. “Still, good luck Tsugu-san! It’s clear that you’re putting your feelings into this, and I hope they can reach whoever has inspired you like this.”

Tsugumi smiled, holding back a wince as she took another sip of the coffee. Even in spite of the smoothness and flavor notes it was still so harsh...how could Sayo drink something like this, much less enjoy how she made it? It puzzled her, frustrated her. Tsugumi possessed a barista’s palate from years of getting to know coffee through taste, so if she could barely taste the flavor through the overwhelming bitterness, what was the appeal for a layman like Sayo?

“I hope so.” She really, really hoped so.

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The next day, with school having once again resumed, Tsugumi knew to once again expect Sayo in the afternoon. While waiting she had prepared one more dark roast americano, and had somehow managed to finish the entire cup. Today she had managed to pull it for just the right amount of time, with the bitterness being at a tolerable level, but that was just it. Tolerable. She knew that Sayo just didn’t know better when it came to coffee, but she deserved better than this. Tsugumi leaned on her elbow and sighed, before the sound of the bell snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Sayo-san!” She said, ignoring the way her heart started beating just a little faster. “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, Tsugumi-san.” Tsugumi was still not over the way Sayo said her name. The softness of her voice, the way she clearly spoke each syllable, it was like she felt privileged to even say it.

“Will you be having your usual?” Even as she asked this Tsugumi felt her stomach tying itself into knots. Sayo had said she liked her black coffee, she really had, and she probably did mean it, but…

“Actually,” Sayo’s eyes drifted downward, a slight pink color rising in her cheeks, “I want to try something else today.” Sayo looked up again, her eyes now looking straight into Tsugumi’s, warm and swirling with tiny lights. “Tell me, what do you usually make for yourself?”

“Wh...what?”

“Surely you sample your own craft,” Sayo said with genuine curiosity. “You do take pride in it, don’t you?”

“O-oh! Yes, of course!” Tsugumi felt like her soul had departed from the mortal plane and was rapidly ascending. Sayo wanted to see, to taste her more passionate work. She was standing in front of her, asking her to pour her soul out into a coffee cup.

And she was overjoyed to oblige.

“Well, my favorite drink is a cafe mocha. Most people just call it a mocha latte, though.” It was extremely, extremely difficult for Tsugumi not to start vibrating with excitement. She was going to make her favorite drink. For Sayo. Her heart was positively racing, and she was almost afraid it would simply leap out of her chest.

Sayo looked contemplative as she raised her eyes to the menu above the counter, presumably reading the drink’s description. “A latte with chocolate…” She said, her voice almost hypnotically soft. “Is that sweet?” Their eyes met as she lowered hers again, and Tsugumi swore she felt...something in their connected gaze.

Some kind of...spark.

“It’s a little sweet,” Tsugumi said, and wondered if Sayo could see the sparkles that were surely filling up her eyes by now. “It’s mostly smooth and creamy, though. It’s nice.” Tsugumi just stood there and smiled, watching Sayo’s thoughts swirl behind her eyes.

“I think...I think I’ll try that,” She said, reaching into her bag for her wallet. “And a slice of marble cake, as well.”

“No, don’t bother paying,” Tsugumi waved her hand. That same sort of confused look fell over Sayo’s face, before she closed her eyes and sighed as she put her wallet away again.

“This is a business, you know,” Sayo said. “You need to make money somehow.” Even though she was showing that overly critical side she was probably better known for right now, her voice was still soft and warm, full of affection.

“We have other paying customers, don’t worry. You’re just a special exception.”

Sayo blushed ever so slightly. “I...see.” She looked off to the side, seemingly trying to process the current situation.

Tsugumi laughed gently. “Don’t overthink it, it’s no big deal,” She said, watching as Sayo’s shoulders seemed to relax a bit. “Go have a seat, I’ll get your order ready.”

Tsugumi took a moment to watch as Sayo made her way to her usual spot by the window, before turning around and getting to work. A cafe mocha. This was practically her signature, she could make one of these in her sleep. Humming softly to keep her focus and not let herself be overwhelmed by excitement, she once again started the process of making the building block of every coffee beverage: the espresso. This was dark roast coffee was meant for, she thought as she measured out the beans into the grinder. She would use the blend she normally used with Sayo’s order, and now when paired with the cocoa powder its character could shine through a little more.

Taking out the portafilter from the espresso machine, she moved to position it under the chamber, now full of fresh grounds. Pour out some grounds, even them out, tamp them down. Soon enough the grounds were packed tight and solid, machine-ready. Snapping the now full portafilter back into the machine, she grabbed a cup and placed it under the group head before hitting the button to start the pulling process. After about thirty seconds (Tsugumi had done this enough times that she no longer needed a stopwatch by now) a deep brown liquid had settled at the bottom of the cup. Pure espresso. The smell of coffee now permeated the air around her, filling her lungs, granting her its energy without even needing to drink it.

The next step was the cocoa powder. Tsugumi loved how well chocolate and coffee paired together, not just in drinks, but in general. One of the cakes her mother would make sometimes, a chocolate pound cake, actually used coffee grounds in the recipe, and it gave it such a rich, earthy flavor that matched the dense and moist texture nicely. It seemed like something Sayo might be into, come to think of it. She did know how to make it on her own by now…

Realizing she was getting distracted, Tsugumi shook her head and measured out a scoop of cocoa powder into the cup, stirring it into the espresso with a whisk. Soon it was blended smooth, the faint aroma of chocolate starting to mingle with the coffee.

She set the whisk aside and grabbed the small metal jug used for the milk. Not much was needed, the foaming process meant that a good amount of the volume would be taken up by air. Activating the steam wand, she inserted it just under the surface of the milk, watching as the surface began to swirl and twist into a tiny whirlpool. Soon bubbles had formed on the surface, so she carefully moved the wand deeper to ensure that the air would properly mix into the milk. The jug had grown warm in her hand by the time the process had finished, leaving the milk smooth and steaming.

After wiping the wand clean, she poured out most of the milk into the waiting cup. Most, not all. A small amount was needed for the final step. She once again picked up the whisk, blending everything smooth into a pale brown color. It was almost finished. All that remained was to mark the latte with her signature. For most cafe patrons Tsugumi would make a simple heart or leaf. She did practice more complex latte art, of course, but the thing about it was that it was art. It was a glimpse into her soul, and her soul was terribly unassuming and plain, much like the rest of her. But…

She glanced over at the window to see Sayo, once again framed by the setting sun. Her breath caught in her throat.

If there was anyone she wanted to see her soul, it was Hikawa Sayo.

Picking up the jug again, Tsugumi got to work on a more complex design she’d stumbled upon a couple months ago and had been practicing on and off since. It started with a ring of small petals along the outside of the cup, followed by another ring inside, this one with the petals overlapping with the first ring. More rings were added, growing tighter, until the design was finished with a singular, circular dot at the very center. Tsugumi set the jug down and took a moment to admire her work.

A cafe mocha, topped with a milky white camellia.

Delicately, Tsugumi set the mocha onto a serving tray, and left it there momentarily to get the other part of Sayo’s order. With the cake now plated and ready, the moment of truth was approaching. Tsugumi put everything she could into controlling her heartbeat and her breathing, not wanting to clumsily ruin her hard work in the throes of anticipation. She came close when Sayo perked up upon her approach, but somehow managed to steady herself.

“Here,” She said, setting the items down in front of Sayo. “Be sure to tell me what you think, okay?”

Sayo simply nodded before focusing her attention on the latte. She was just...looking at it. Staring thoughtfully, as if admiring a painting in a museum. A long moment passed before she spoke up.

“Do you make designs like this every time you make this drink?” Sayo said, still admiring the flower.

“Um...n-no,” Tsugumi said, now having sat down across from her. “Normally I do something simple, I don’t want to waste anyone’s time since I’m not all that good at latte art…”

“Tsugumi-san.”

“Yes?”

Sayo took the cup by the handle and raised it slowly, carefully, like it was a priceless object. “This is beautiful.” Her smile, her eyes, they were all so sincere looking as she stared at the flower, completely enthralled. “I almost don’t want to ruin it.”

“Oh...that’s…” The heat rising in her face was making it hard for Tsugumi to find the right words for the moment. “I-it’s just milk, you know, it’s all meant to be drunk, s-so it’s no big deal…” Her words died down, probably so she could better listen to Sayo’s soft laughter.

“Perhaps,” She said, the rays of the setting sun catching in her eyes as she looked up, leaving them aglow. “But you’ve made it into something beautiful. Understand that.” She closed her eyes as she took a small, careful sip, and Tsugumi held her breath.

“What do you think?” She asked as Sayo lowered the cup from her lips.

“It’s nothing like what I normally get,” She said, her focus now on her drink. “It’s smoother. Mild.” She took another sip, now taking a brief moment to savor. “It’s sweet.” Another sip. “It feels...how do I put this...it feels very you.”

“What do you mean?”

Sayo set the cup down. “It’s gentle. All the harshness is gone.” She smiled, a warm, beautiful, smile that Tsugumi wanted to burn into her memory forever. “I like this. You have good taste.”

“Th-thank you…”

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How long had she been lying here on her bed, staring up at her ceiling? Was it an hour? Was it ten minutes? It was hard to tell, with the way she’d been replaying the events of the afternoon in her mind.

“Sayo-san…” She softly whispered Sayo’s name as she remembered the care with which she had handled the cup simply because of the art, the way she had savored every sip down to the last drop, how she had smiled at her like that...it all made her feel like there was something rattling around in her chest, some kind of energy she had no clue how to release. She let out a long, slow breath in an attempt to steady herself.

Ping! That sound. It was the sound of a text coming in. Followed by several more.

Sitting up, Tsugumi grabbed her phone from where it lay off to the side and turned it on. A series of texts from Himari, sent to the Afterglow groupchat. She unlocked her phone and read the messages carefully.

guys ok!

we have a show booked for friday at galaxy

were playing the first set and we start at 5

we have to be there like 1 hour early tho so clear ur schedules!

#tsugumi hazawa #sayo hikawa #tsugusayo #bandori #arlcsr #gray writes

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anangelicday-mrwolf · 4 years

Text

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 31 – Seed of Trouble

“I was careless,” lamented Tao in Takio and M-21’s presence, his head drooped as Raizel was wordlessly watching him.

Although the man was seated in sofa, they felt as if he were kneeling in repentance.

Takio knew that Tao did nothing wrong. So did M-21 and Raizel.

In fact, they offered on several occasions words of condolence, trying to convince him that there is nothing for him to apologize about, which fell deaf on Tao’s ears.

Nevertheless, in consideration of what had taken place, they understood why Tao appeared so remorseful.

“I should have told myself we’re not out of the woods until the QuadraNet is completely active. I should have reminded myself there could be situations during which I could be bound hand and foot. I mean, after everything that had happened with Crombell’s nuclear missiles, I...!”

That day they were supposed to record the date on their history book – the day that QuadraNet came alive for very first time.

However, they had to save the champagne for later because of the trouble that occurred on the same day.

The very moment when servers of Lukedonia, KSA, werewolves, and Frankenstein’s house were linked together, their databases were marred by sounds and lights signaling error.

Following suit, communications were lost, and firewalls and protection wares were dismantled one by one.

Tao pulled every measure in panic, to prevent anything resembling Crombell’s nuclear missile incident from taking place, to later find out that everyone had gone through the same phenomenon.

“But we didn’t really lose the server, did we?”

“We didn’t lose anything, did we...?”

“...We didn’t. But I’d say it’s a miracle that we didn’t lose anything. To be honest, I can’t believe nothing was ever lost. I’m even thinking that I might have failed to notice a damage on our side. That was how dire the situation was.”

And his words were no exaggeration or a bluff.

Their servers were protected in layers, with firewalls within firewalls and protective wares within wares.

Thanks to them, the sudden error left minimal damage on the firewalls, partially because Tao was extremely nimble with his actions.

Nonetheless, the fact that heavily protected firewalls were damaged albeit little is of no light matter.

Not to mention Tao, the master artisan in computers, had to force himself into confusion and toil for once.

“It’s a good thing I was here for us.”

“You mean...”

“Oh, don’t worry. Their servers are fine. So are their data. But it was very, very close, they said.”

Takio and M-21, as much as they were relieved, clenched their teeth tightly, as if silently protesting Tao for very nearly giving them a heart attack.

“...So did you guys figure out what was the problem?”

“Based on the pattern at the very least, we believe it was caused by hack.”

“A hack?”

“So are you saying somebody hacked our data?”

“By whom?”

“I said based on the pattern at the very least. Such pattern would be found when data are hacked, but I found no leakage or loss of data. I told you – nothing was lost in the first place.”

His two teammates nodded in relief.

“But...”

But?

What now?

Takio and M-21 let their faces fling the questions.

“When there’s a consequence, there’s always a cause.”

“...Are you saying the only reason why you’d find pattern similar to a hacking pattern is because there was an actual attempt of hacking?”

“That’s what I presume.”

“...Is it the Union?”

And of course, the very first name to take the blame was their sworn nemesis, now no better than a punching bag, though its tenacity and reputation were beyond any earthly imagination to be attributed to a mere punching bag.

“That’s the thing. I wouldn’t say that I’ve spent a lot of time at the Union, but I’d say I’ve spent quite a long time. During my time at the Union, I engraved in my mind every form and pattern of hacking in this world. Just say the word, and I can simulate any of them with my eyes shut.”

“Couldn’t expect anything else. So?”

“And my experiences and knowledge tell me that...”

Tao hesitated like a doctor about to diagnose a patient with the last stage of cancer, and he voiced himself with a wretched expression.

“Simply put – with explanations put aside, due to the level of background knowledge they require – if this were really caused by hacking, it was attempted from inside, not outside.”

At instant Takio’s and M-21’s facial muscles were distorted in different directions.

“What do you mean, inside?”

“When the four servers were combined into a single giant network. That was when the issue erupted from within – at least that’s what it looked like.”

“You sound like somebody among us was waiting for the moment to hack the servers.”

Takio whispered, wearing a face that was so blatantly demanding Tao to correct him.

To his dismay, Tao so very successfully crushed his hope with his silence.

Enemy within and betrayal are no strangers to the three modified humans.

After all, to Union they have been classified as traitors.

And it is quite common to see agents who used to pick on each other to bicker and fool around finding themselves obligated to pick on each other’s head, depending on their adherence within the Union.

However, never have they imagined discussing enemy within at this time.

It was hard for them to imagine that one of the men and women who were jointly against the Union decided to turn their back on the rest.

They first and foremost shifted their attention to the forces closest to the Union, now that they were discussing potential betrayal.

“Are you sure that the ones who were loyal to Maduke are gone now?”

“I’d say so, based on what Lord Muzaka said. I mean, you don’t expect anybody to remain loyal to that guy, after everything he had done, do you? I heard even before 1st and 3rd Elders invaded the werewolf realm, the surviving warriors who once pledged their allegiance to Maduke forsook their allegiance long time ago.”

“But since you’re talking solely about warriors, I’m thinking same cannot be said of the non-warriors.”

“Well, you’ve got a point. The werewolf researchers and doctors have rarely changed from the time when Maduke was their top dog. But I’d say it was inevitable. They’re responsible of werewolves’ health and physical welfare, so you can’t remove them like emptying and refilling shelves just because they used to serve Maduke.”

As he spoke, Tao looked particularly uncomfortable.

He knew now that they have brought the werewolf researchers out on the court, it was so obvious who would be on the trial.

To add to his trouble, Tao had enough witness to render his suspicions valid.

“Do you think that the head researcher of werewolves has anything to do with this...?”

“...Actually, that’s what I wanted to discuss.”

Tao began his tale, with Raizel’s ruby-red gaze soundlessly blazing across his face.

*****

“If you didn’t lose any data or server, that is all we could ever ask for.”

Tao sighed out a reply, the situation wrapped up somewhat; he looked as if cellular aging took place at an accelerated rate, miraculously embodying a face of a man at least 50 years older than he is.

So was Adne, Yuhyung, and KSA’s doctor.

Even Frankenstein looked like he was in an awful need for a coffin instead of a cot.

“First we’ll try to dissect the issue, so for the next few days, I’d like all of you to please be careful handling the data. Make sure to check the firewalls on multiple basis, and...”

With all directions dispensed, monitors blinked off.

Tao brushed his face with his hands and was about to leave, but a mortally disheartened voice snatched his legs in a halt.

Tao recognized the voice – it belonged to Adne.

‘Is the connection still effective? But then how come I’m picking up only his voice?’

Normally Tao would have hurriedly notified the doctor to turn off the mike.

Notwithstanding, he was transfixed, his judgment compromised by what had taken place.

And he stayed keen on the conversation of two werewolves for which he was uninvited.

<I’d thought you gave me your word that you will no longer say something like that. Judging by what the others told us, we were the ones with the least damage – at least on the surface. Doesn’t that serve as a proof of your abilities?>

<But...>

Tao did not even realize he was almost crushing the monitor in his grip.

He was busy retracing Adne’s words in his head, questioning his own hearing.

<That’s why I gave my all for the QuadraNet project. I wanted to make up for my wrongdoings. But throughout the course of my effort, I could only feel how incompetent I am. I learned that my knowledge and skills are nothing but a child’s play.>

<Really? Then that’s great!>

<...Beg your pardon?>

Muzaka exchanged a few more banter-slash-encouragement with Adne, who was increasingly embarrassed, before his voice glimmered away.

The lights on the monitors flickered a couple more times before all functions were terminated; yet Tao could not even budge.

‘Dr. Adne was the lead researcher under Maduke...?’

The fact alone cannot shock Tao to a dismal level; he already knew that the current research and medical team among werewolves used to belong to Maduke.

But he had supposed they were simply bewitched by Maduke’s grievously greedy propaganda. Or compelled to obey and serve because of his massive power.

Adne, however, was different. It turned out that though Maduke did sugarcoat his mind with his gift in mind tricks, the werewolf doctor voluntarily joined the tyrant in order to make his own ambitions come true.

Now Tao could feel how things that were used to seem trivial began to add to his suspicion.

Adne was the only one who experienced delay before they initiated the server unification.

He muttered that he wanted to be an expert in midst of their conversation.

And he told Muzaka that their damage was the least serious one, at least on the surface.

‘What if Dr. Adne in fact had not abandoned his ambitions? What if he’s lying to everyone else?’

Tao could not leave his computers for a while; he had seen and heard and experienced too much at the Union to quiet his doubt.

*****

“So this Adne guy is the one?”

“Not sure. For now all I have is suspicion.”

“But it’s too sharp to be dubbed suspicion. I mean, the situations all fit.”

The three members of the RK threw up huge balls of air in synchronization.

“But let’s say he really is the one. Then how in the world did he manage to hack three servers at the same time, at the werewolf territory? Yes, the networks were connected, but the servers are all managed and maintained in different styles. He would have had to come up with three different hacking patterns.”

“...Either he actually came up with three. Or he pulled some technique we’re unaware of. Or he has someone to help him.”

M-21 made Tao’s and Takio’s wrinkles much deeper on their foreheads.

The question of Adne’s loyalty was a headache enough, and they hated to imagine what would happen if it later turned out the werewolf doctor was not alone in this.

At least they knew one thing for certain.

“...Let’s keep this to ourselves for the time being.”

“Agreed. There’s no need to raise unwanted trouble.”

As the three men nodded in agreement, Raizel remained placid, not even blinking with a countenance that hinted not the slightest of what he was processing within.

(next chapter)

They say silence is gold, but we shall see if this case will lead to a gold mine lol

#korean webcomic #korean webtoon #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark #wolfsbane

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evilisk · 4 years

Text

Reading Len’En Profiles Pt 5

We round off the RMI cast with the New Emperor, their Anachronistic Advisor and the short story detailing how they met. (The illustration above was done up by JynX for Len’En’s 2nd anniversary)

= = =

While Iyozane’s profile is very conventional and barebones, Fumikado’s profile basically has extra details about Iyozane too, which is why I decided to split their profiles off from everyody else.

= = =

How Fumikado and Iyozane Met

I love how half of Fumikado’s backstory is an actual short story. As far as the writing goes, it’s not bad. One issue is how confusing the profile is as a result of all the characters being “they” (e.g. “When Fumikado asked that question, they smiled slightly” is very confusing). Otherwise, I really like how much atmosphere is packed into this little story.

I love how we basically get the full context behind the naming of Iyozane’s musical theme (”In The Gloomy Straits, Steady As She Goes”). We also get a bit of theming with Fumikado in regards to the stars (note that one of Fumikado’s spellcards is constellation)

Oh and the Bridge in BPoHC is alluded to, and Suzumi’s role, and so many other things. It’s crazy how ambitious this profile is. You’d never see ZUN setting up the boss characters of a following game in a profile.

... I can’t believe it took me one short story to instantly want to ship Fumikado and Iyozane. Either I’m getting really soft, or JynX is just way better at creating ‘shipping potential’ than ZUN is

= = =

Stage 3 Boss - Fujiwara no Iyozane

Original Opinion: To me, Iyozane is the weak-link in the “New Emperor Trio”. Their petty ambitions are fine but they really don’t stand out compared to the stoic Tsugumi or the over-the-top Fumikado. It’s a shame too, as I do love their design, their fight and their musical theme (their RMI theme is especialy good. Like, I could listen to that melancholic melody all day~)

Comments on Profile:

I see JynX is just taking the piss out of the species section again (with Iyozane’s race being “Human, aspiring to be a pirate”)

So Iyozane hates the cold too. I find it hilarious that a whole bunch of people involved in this incident actually hate being in the cold (so far, we’re at Iyozane and the two Adagumo siblings).

I relate to their angle of ‘is ambitious, has no clue how to achieve said ambitions’ so much

So Iyozane apparently uses their flute to control the spirits in their spellcards. That’s cool. Especially since their (godly) theme includes a woodwind instrument... I think? I tend to confuse instruments

Does this mean Iyozane is the first musical Len’En character? I feel like they have to be. I do like how JynX avoided the ZUN cliche of “gotta have a spellcard with musical notes, just so you know that they’re a musician!”

I just want it to be know that I totally wrote half of this profile analysis while listening to Iyozane’s theme on loop. It is just so damn good.

Comments on Short Story:

I like the Iyozane portrayed in the short story. Iyozane’s kind of a typical arrogant, villainous noble type in-game but here they seem so full of energy, with how talkative and open they are, how they’re nervous to perform in front of Fumikado etc. While I’m all for Fumikado becoming the new Emperor, I’m a bit bummed out over how boring “Iyozane in active ambition mode” is

I don’t know the full deal with the name “Fujiwara” (other than Fujiwara being the name of some ancient Japanese clan, oh and Mokou having the same surname, of course) but Iyozane gets points for the strangely mysterious backstory

New Opinion: I have mixed feelings here. The short story kind of turned me around on Iyozane, in theory, but I still don’t really like ‘petty advisor’ Iyozane. Until I’ve played BPoHC, I’ll have to hold off on having a final opinion on Iyozane as a whole.

= = =

Stage 6 Boss - Taira no Fumikado

Original Opinion: For all the jokes about Fumikado having a ghost horse stand, Fumikado gives me such strong Joestar vibes. Like, I hear that “Fumikado fought and then ran away from Shion” and my mind instantly goes to Joseph Joestar running away from Straits or Kars. It’s the combination of arrogance, shameless pragmatism and the talent (Fumikado is actually strong... just not “main character” levels of strong). What little I’ve played of BPoHC and their route only cements this Joestar impession I have of Fumikado.

Though I was incredibly disappointed with Fumikado’s badassery and final boss status being deconstructed (seriously, Fumikado would have broken the curse of “lame Len’En final boss” if they’d been played straight), I think JynX has done a good job of transitioning them into something way more enjoyable than *just* a badass final boss... even if that’s more to do with their BPoHC portrayal.

Comments on Profile:

There is strangely zero mention of Taira no Masakado in their profile (despite him being very, very important to Fumikado’s whole deal)

While it was said in-game that they’re supposed to be the vessel for Masakado, I was not expecting Fumikado to have been groomed from such a young age. It’s actually kind of messed up. Especially since you need to ask “what the hell is gonna happen to Fumikado if they’re successful in their goal?”

I also just want to mention the body switching stuff. It is wild that Fumikado can apparently just do that, and that they apparently grew up in somebody else’s body (while somebody else grew up in their body). I don’t write fanfiction but it’d be quite an angle you could explore in fanfic.

Fumikado’s grandpa is like the first canonically male character, right? Not that it matters, he seems like a jerk for convincing kid Fumikado to go through with all this.

Despite my goofy interpretation of them, Fumikado is surprisingly restrained, introspective even, in their short story.

New Opinion: Wow, uh yeah. I think after all of that, Fumikado might straight up be my favourite character in RMI now.

I already liked Fumikado just on a surface level (theme, design, personality) but Fumikado’s profile adds so much pathos to the them. They’re not some failed supervillain. They were someone trained and groomed from birth to do this one role, this one role that could have lead to the erasure of their own existence; and they failed at this one role due to complete bad luck. The irony would be palpable were it not for the fact that they now have a chance to have their own existence, not as Taira no Masakado, but as Taira no Fumikado. Is that not a lot to take in or what?

= = =

Final Thoughts

Though I don’t quite like RMI as a game, I have a lot of respect for it from a writing perspective because holy crap is JynX’s ambition just bleeding through. There’s so many plot threads going on even without adding all the setup and foreshadowing in BPoHC. You got the New Emperor Trio, Tenkai, Yaorochi and Saragimaru’s ‘meeting’ and Shion and Sese’s side stories all packed into one. JynX has set the storytelling bar rather high with this game.

= = =

Ranking the RMI Cast

Taira no Fumikado

Tenkai Zuifeng

Sese

Tsugumi

Shion

My ranking of Iyozane isn’t decided yet. Don’t expect the BPoHC profiles any time soon. Dear God, JynX is a madman for adding two different routes with two completely new sets of bosses and for bringing back every single character.

#len'en #len'en lore #reactivate majestical imperial #len'en project #len'en content #len'en reiretsuden reactivate majestical imperial #taira no fumikado #fujiwara no iyozane #not a reblog

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chronictonsillitis · 5 years

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If I Could Do It All Again (I Shouldn’t Still Want This) Chapter 7

“I don’t know. It’s like, I always knew she had been like that in high school, and somewhat I could see it at the beginning of sophomore year, but I really thought she’d changed.” Clarke snorted and Bellamy looked up. “What?”

Clarke suppressed another laugh, aiming for nonchalant and missing by a mile. “Nothing, I know that must’ve sucked for you, it’s just— I very much knew she hadn’t.”

Bellamy’s forehead creased and Clarke braced for a confrontation. “And just why is that?”

“Well, for one thing,” Clarke said, “She keyed my car.” ***** Bellamy and Clarke chat and almost have a conversation of substance.

(ao3) or (Start from the beginning) or

“Oh fuck off, that did not happen.” Clarke laughed, playfully pushing Bellamy as they walked side by side back to her common room.

He raised his eyebrows dramatically. “Ah, but can you ever be sure?”

Things had been going well between them for the last few weeks, if still a bit surface level. Clarke enjoyed spending time with him, even if it did throw her off-kilter. She didn’t trust him, or didn’t trust herself, or maybe both, but it was hard to fight how right it felt to have him back in her circle.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I think I can say with some certainty that you did not tell Lincoln it was cool if he hooked up with your little sister.”

Bellamy threw up his hands jokingly and spun around, walking backwards as he faced her. “Okay, so maybe I didn’t say that. But I didn’t threaten him with bodily harm when he told me, so that’s like, pretty close.”

Clarke laughed again, and Bellamy spun back around mid-stride. Before he’d quite made it, he collided with somebody, and they both stopped. “Oh, sorry I didn’t see—Oh.”

“Oh?” replied Echo, somewhat scathingly.

“Echo.” Bellamy nodded at her and Clarke felt her stomach turn.

“Bellamy,” Echo replied, and she snorted, looking over at Clarke. “How cute. Like sophomore year all over again.”

“Guess so.” He shrugged his shoulders stiffly. Echo huffed out a cold laugh, and rolled her eyes.

“You should really watch where you’re going with that,” she lilted. The comment seemed to be about the collision, but her sharp glance toward Clarke said otherwise. “Wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Clarke watched as she walked away, slipping gracefully down the path. Bitch, she thought.

“Let’s go.” Bellamy’s voice was tight.

Clarke nodded, and they made their way into her dorm in relative silence. The tensions was palpable as they dropped their things.

Clarke broke the silence first. “You can talk about it, if you want.”

Bellamy dropped heavily into a seat, letting out a deep sigh. “Sorry about that. Things between us are just—“ He stopped, rucking a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. They’re bad, I guess. I assume you’ve heard what happened, at the end.”

Clarke nodded carefully, sitting down beside him. She knew enough, if only from what he had told her when blacked out at the beginning of the year.

“She just…” Bellamy trailed off, searching for the right words. “She wasn’t mean when we we’re dating, at least not that I saw. But then we went abroad, and were in different places, for however long, and when I came back— something was different.”

Clarke, who had never had particularly positive feelings about Echo, struggled to remain objective. “She showed her true colors?”

She missed objective by a mile. Bellamy frowned, looking at his hands.

Clarke suppressed another laugh, aiming for nonchalant and missing by a mile. “Nothing, I know that must’ve sucked for you, it’s just— I very much knew she hadn’t.”

Bellamy’s forehead creased and Clarke braced for a confrontation. “And just why is that?”

“Well, for one thing,” Clarke said, “She keyed my car.”

Clarke laughed as Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up. “What?! When did she do that?”

“The correct question is how many times she did that.”

Was it wrong of Clarke to take pleasure in telling him this? Probably, but being petty had always been one of her most beloved characters flaws and she wasn’t just going to stop today.

“Are you…” Bellamy started, wringing his hands. “I’m not accusing you of making it up, but how do you know it was her?”

“I didn’t at first. My car got keyed twice, once during spring semester sophomore year, and once this past September right after school started. A couple weeks ago I was complaining about it to Roan, and he told me. He didn’t realize I didn’t already know.”

“Ah, Roan,” Bellamy said, a hint of bitterness seeping into his voice. “What a guy.”

Clarke frowned, not quite understanding. “It’s not like he meant to stir the pot by telling me. He just figured I would’ve known.”

“That’s not—“ Bellamy glanced up, his eyes meeting hers for a second before dropping back to his hands. “Nevermind. I’m sorry that she did that. If I’d have known—”

“But you didn’t know.” Clarke interjected. “It’s not your fault for wanting to think the best of your girlfriend.”

Why are you comforting him, Clarke? Her stomach flipped, but she continued, “You try to see the good in everyone. That’s not a bad thing.”

He was silent for a minute before he replied, his voice low. “Not in everyone. Not in you.”

Clarke's heart stuttered uncomfortably and she flushed. She could feel her fight or flight instincts kicking in, telling her to leave, to cover her ears, to get away as fast as she could. “What?”

Bellamy looked at her, his expression inscrutable. She flinched involuntarily. “Not in you. With you I tried my best to ignore everything good, Clarke, for so long. Too long. But I couldn’t—”

“We don’t need to talk about this.” Clarke cut him off, resisting the urge to flee. She didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to hear about it, didn’t want to think about it. They could discuss what had happened between him and Echo all day, but not what happened between them. Things were good again and he should just let it be. Why couldn’t he just let it be?

“We do,” Bellamy replied firmly. “It’s not okay for me to keep this to myself. The way I acted, the things I thought, Clarke, I never ap—“

“Bellamy, please!” He startled, his eyebrows shooting up. Clarke’s voice was high, too high, and she hated it, hated her own vulnerability. Carefully, more calmly, she asked: “Can we please not talk about this?”

“Are you sure?” Bellamy looked at her, confused. “I think it might help—”

“Please stop!” She squeaked and he stopped. “I just really don’t want to talk about it.”

Bellamy’s eyes searched her face and she fought to keep her expression neutral, her heart racing and chest tight. I can’t breathe, she thought. I can’t breathe and I need to leave and I need him to stop looking stop looking stop—

“Okay.” His eyes dropped and Clarke felt the tension start to drain out of her, almost as quickly as it had arisen. “We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Thank you.” She said tightly and he nodded, a bit stiffly. Was he disappointed? Clarke didn’t want to disappoint him but she couldn’t— she couldn’t. Even as her own panic abated, she felt a new tension settle around them: awkwardness. She wiped the sweat off her palms and grasped for an easy topic. “So how’s your thesis going?”

Bellamy’s eyes lit up. “I translated this new scrap of text about Auletrides, the flute girls at Ancient Greek Symposia, this week and it’s going to be super helpful. Did you know historical scholars really just assume since the flute players were women they had to be playing the metaphorical flute as well? Ridiculous.”

Clarke laughed. “The metaphorical flute? Oh my god.”

Bellamy shrugged and they both grinned at each other, the awkwardness passing. “How about you? Double major, double thesis right?”

Clarke groaned. “Well, for chem it’s most of the way there, but my thesis advisor is Professor Tsing and she wants me to die, so I’m sure there will be major edits. I have almost all the pieces for my arts showcase but Vera said something about it lacking heart or something vaguely insulting like that. She made that face where her mouth pinches up like she swallowed a lemon which means she wants to say she doesn’t like it but she can’t.”

“You mean the face she makes every time she sees my drawings?” Bellamy asked, chuckling. “And here I thought she was just shocked by my artistic genius.”

“Yeah right.” Clarke scoffed. “You wouldn’t know art if it slapped you across the face.”

“Oh yeah, princess?” Bellamy smirked and scooted closer, Clarke unconsciously echoing his movement. “You wouldn’t be planning on slapping me, now would you?”

Clarke could feel her heart rate pick up. Her head felt light and her face warm. “And what exactly in that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I think you know.” Bellamy’s voice was low and Clarke fought the urge to shiver. This is a not a good idea, part of her thought, but she brushed it off.

“Do I?” She asked breathily.

“You really need me to spell it out?” Bellamy laughed and shifted closer still. “Well, princess—”

“Sup bitches!”

Murphy and Raven burst in unceremoniously and flopped down next to them on the couches. Clarke blushed, realizing how close she and Bellamy had gotten. She shifted back in her seat, trying not to look guilty. There was no reason to feel guilty, it’s not like they were doing anything. They were just talking. Murphy slung an arm over her shoulder.

“So what thrilling and exciting topics are we discussing today?” He drawled.

Clarke shoved his arm off of her. “Art class.”

Bellamy eyed Clarke, his face falling slightly with emotion that she couldn’t, or did not care to analyze. She looked away and pasted on a smile. “So, what are we doing tonight?”

Other than making bad fucking decisions, she thought.

#bellarke fic #bellamy blake #bellarke fanfiction #bellarke #clarke griffin #The 100 #the 100 fic

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Nineteen: Genius ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uzumaki Naruto, Hatake Kakashi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

Why is it she’s surrounded by geniuses?

Sure, one of them...isn’t exactly her best friend. Hinata knows why Neji hates her. All she can do is hope that when she gets older, she’ll have a chance to change things for him. For all of the branch Hyūga clan. But, for now...she’s powerless. Stripped of her title and abandoned to her genin team by her father, having been deemed a failure. She can no more help Neji than she can help herself.

...she’ll never bear the title of genius, she tells herself. She’s just the quiet little nobody dragging her new team down. Naruto will never benefit from her few and far between talents. All she wants is to be recognized by him...but what can she do?

And then, there’s the third member of their new triad. Uchiha Sasuke, another proclaimed genius. Quiet, almost aloof...and hyper focused on his own goals.

Their team feels so...disjointed. Naruto and Sasuke are almost always arguing, and Hinata’s quiet, soft attempts to try to bring peace are almost always ignored. Their first training session with Kakashi was...disastrous. Naruto went in with no sense of planning or teamwork, and almost immediately was put out of commission by Kakashi. Sasuke, though highly skilled, also went at it alone, using Naruto’s antics as a distraction. And Hinata’s attempts to free Naruto landed her in a one-on-one with Kakashi, her feeble attempts at Jūken holding up for a few seconds before she, too, was incapacitated.

Overall...it wasn’t pretty. And yet, after realizing what they were missing, he allowed them to pass...if only by the skin of their teeth.

And now, they’ve been buried in D-rank missions to their ears. Hinata’s prior hinting that maybe more actual training than just slaving away on assignments might help has finally been taken seriously. Their entire week has been nothing but hours spent at the training grounds, trying to find some semblance of strategy to work together.

So far...there hasn’t been much progress.

Sasuke’s attempts to make himself the unspoken team leader have gotten Naruto all in a tizzy, insisting that he should lead. The constant arguing has made them sloppy, too busy correcting each other and nitpicking to spend time actually running through drills.

As yet another fight breaks out, Hinata sighs, shoulders wilting as she stands beside Kakashi. He, too, looks rather unimpressed. “Boys,” he then cuts in, drawing their looks as they each grasp one another’s shirt fronts. “I think you’re forgetting something.”

“...what?”

“Neither of you are team leader. That title would fall to me. As it stands...neither of you are anywhere near qualified to lead a squad. Hence you being little genin, and not chūnin.”

Both then stiffen and puff up, vying their case for being second in command.

“I don’t think so. You’re both far too busy giving each other a hard time to even pay your task any attention. If anything...Hinata is the most qualified for me to turn to.”

...that shuts them up.

Jolting in surprise, she stutters, “M...me? B-but I -?”

“Have a level head, listen when the squad leader speaks, and do your best to follow through the drills. The only reason you ever stop is because these two keep getting in your way. I can’t even judge your abilities yet because you’ve had no time to show them off. There might be a genius just under the surface, but these knuckleheads keep wasting time.”

Kakashi folds his arms, giving the boys a pointed look. “If it were just you two putting yourselves out, I’d just leave you to it. But you seem to be forgetting something very important: this team isn’t just about you. You have to form a cohesive unit. Your arguing is bad enough between the two of you...but you’re dragging Hinata down. Both of you.”

Eyes wide, Hinata just...stares. She’s...never had anyone speak about her like that before. She has always been the burden. The slow one. The person inhibiting the progress of others. Hearing Kakashi praise her - even so indirectly - brings a small flutter to her chest.

At their sensei’s chiding, Sasuke and Naruto give each other cool, appraising looks. While it’s clear they haven’t exactly resolved things between them...they seem to take Kakashi’s words to heart. “...so what are we supposed to do?” Sasuke asks. “How can we just magically get along?”

“Well, I was hoping some missions would help with that. Give you all the same goal, and see how you worked to meet it. But even then you were too busy nagging each other to really get the work done as well as you could have.” Kakashi rubs his chin thoughtfully. “...I think we need to go over our strengths and weaknesses. A good team has a balance. Where one person might be lacking, another steps up to cover it.”

His arms fold. “Sasuke, you have a good eye for detail, and a mind for strategizing...decent techniques and power. But you’re also too absorbed in yourself to pay attention to the movements and needs of your teammates. Hinata’s mindfulness might help you learn to keep tabs on the rest of your squad. Naruto, you’ve got decent power...but you don’t think ahead. You need to slow down and examine your surroundings first. You might not like it, but you need to listen when Sasuke comes up with a strategy. His strength will help cover your weakness. And Hinata.”

“Y...yes?”

“You have the greatest powers of observation. Even if your Byakugan is still in its beginning stages with distance, you can see what your team can’t. You’re their eyes. You can tell Sasuke what you see, so he can plan, and Naruto can help execute. But you’re not putting your best foot forward. You’re hesitating. You take a step back when you should take a step forward.”

At that, the little Hyūga flinches. That’s...exactly what her father always chided her for. Being indecisive. Lacking conviction. Initiative.

...but his constant beratement only made her less sure of herself. Less apt to take risks, or be assertive.

Eyeing her carefully as the boys do the same, Kakashi suggests, “...in order to help cover you...Naruto and Sasuke need to do something for you.”

“We do?” Naruto blurts, earning a sock in the shoulder by his rival.

“You two...need to work on Hinata’s confidence.”

“...how do we do that?” Sasuke asks, a brow perked.

“Encouragement. Help. Advice. Hinata’s skittish for a reason. Reach out! Find the reason behind it! And start to counteract it.”

Confusion crosses both boys’ faces. Across from them, Hinata wilts. “T...that’s not -?”

“You haven’t been given a chance to show your true potential,” Kakashi cuts in, waving a hand. “I think...you’ve been so concerned about measuring up to someone else, you haven’t done so with yourself, hm?”

...she doesn’t have a rebuke for that.

“...all right. I’m going to go bring my precious little students some lunch,” Kakashi then announces. “While I’m gone...why don’t you three discuss what we learned today, hm?”

None of them answer as he disappears. For once...all three are quiet, mulling things over.

Naruto folds his arms, seated on the ground and pursing his lips. “...guess I do kinda rush into things, huh?”

“Yeah, you do,” Sasuke agrees, earning a glower. “...and...I try to take the reins too much. I guess...I just feel like I have ideas we should use.”

“But you don’t, um...communicate them to us,” Hinata offers softly. “You always g-go at things alone.”

“Well...Naruto ruins things with his rushing, and you…” He gestures vaguely. “Every time I turn around, you’re flinching.”

“S...sorry.”

“See? That’s what I mean. Don’t apologize for it, Hinata.”

“Don’t mind him, he’s just a jerk,” Naruto offers behind a hand, getting socked again. “Ow! Hey!”

“I’m trying to be serious! Look...you don’t have to be so timid, Hinata. We’re not gonna yell at you if you do something wrong. Mistakes in training aren’t fatal. You just have to try again until you get it right.”

Her head ducks. “...I...g-guess you’re right. I just, um…” She glances aside. “...that’s not...how we do things at - a-at home. It’s very...strict.”

“Well...this isn’t the Hyūga compound. If you need help with something, just ask us. Or Kakashi. The point of training is to work on what you need to improve. Why would we try to make it harder for you? If we’re gonna be a team...then we have to work together. That means in training, too.”

Sparing a glance up, Hinata dares to meet Sasuke’s eyes. Unlike her father’s, there’s no disappointment in them. No malice. Just a hint of exasperation as she hesitates. “O...okay.”

“Besides, you’ve got some really cool abilities, Hinata-chan!” Naruto pipes up with a grin. “The way your eyes can see through stuff! And behind you! Even Sasuke can’t do that!”

A hint of a cool pout overcomes Sasuke’s face, but he doesn’t comment.

“And that taijutsu stuff you were doing with Kakashi-sensei - with the chakra? That was so cool! Does it really make somebody unable to use chakra?”

“Um...y-yes, for a little while. That’s the Jūken style of the Hyūga clan.”

“If you get better at that, imagine what that’d mean! You’d just have to hit ‘em like ‘blam blam blam’! And then they’d be at your mercy! How badass is that?!”

Color floods her cheeks. “I...I-I still need more p-practice, though…”

“Well, that’s what we’re here to do,” Sasuke offers. A grin curls his lips. “I’d like to spar with the Jūken sometime. My taijutsu needs a little work...and that way there’d be more risk for me to work on my blocking and dodging.”

“Me too, me too!” Naruto insists. “I wanna see it!”

“Having a Hyūga on our team should be pretty useful. Even beyond the Jūken, like Kakashi said...your eyes might be almost as good as mine,” Sasuke offers with a hint of a grin as he lightly teases her.

“You never even use the Sharingan!” Naruto cuts in squinting.

“Not yet. I haven’t needed to,” the Uchiha evades.

“All right, all right...I think that’s enough talking for now.”

The trio turn to see their sensei behind them, holding out three bento boxes. “Sensei!”

“Sounds to me like you made some good progress...so consider these your reward. I’ll give you the rest of the day to think on it...then we’ll see how things go tomorrow, hm?”

“O...okay.”

Rather than leave, the three just sit and open their lunches. “Hey, hey! Hinata-chan, can I trade you some fish for my vegetables?”

“I know you don’t like them, b-but you really should eat them Naruto-kun,” she chides in reply. Looking to Sasuke, she then offers, “Sasuke-kun, do you want my tomatoes?”

He blinks. “...how’d you know I like tomatoes?”

“Cuz Hinata-chan pays attention! Duh! And I thought you were a genius, teme - maybe Hinata’s smarter than you!”

Smiling softly, she adds, “L-like you said, maybe my eyes are as good as yours, ne?”

Still looking surprised, Sasuke hesitates a moment. “...yeah, sure. Here, you can have my plum jelly...I don’t like sweet stuff.”

“O-okay!”

...maybe they’ll get this whole ‘teamwork’ thing figured out.

.oOo.

More team seven!Hinata. I'm really starting to like this AU, as cliche as it is lol - though trying to figure out how to get things to fully mesh is a little difficult...hence them talking it out this time! In all honesty, team seven in canon doesn't really seem to have much, uh...balance? Just three mostly physical attackers. Team eight, by comparison, has a lot more...variety. They're all trackers, sure...but you've got Kiba with medium range attacking, Shino with recon and subversive attacking, and Hinata with her Byakugan and close-up taijutsu for chakra blocking. I dunno. Team seven just seems very weighted to me, but then again I'm very poor at writing combat so maybe I have no room to talk xD So envisioning how to have these three work as a unit is a little tough too, tbh. Aaanyway...it's super late so I better go - thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #uzumaki naruto #hatake kakashi #a light amongst shadows [ canon verse ]#365daysofsasuhina

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theateared · 4 years

Text

You Look Great. ❜

Summary: Everybody makes mistakes. Some can’t be forgiven. Others can, but only under certain circumstances.

“I’m surprised you came to meet me after everything.”

All things considered, so was he.

After he’d been forced to enter Arthur’s territory in order to retrieve her, killing a lot of his creed single-handedly in a desperate effort to reach her before the opposing Alpha did god-knows-what to her, he’d told himself that he was finished with Grace Adler. Not only had she been foolish, she’d been reckless and selfish, putting both Moxie and him in grave danger. For what? The sake of jealousy?

The church filled with the sound of her footsteps as she bridged the distance between them. Suddenly, she was right in front of him - closer than she’d ever been - and he felt his heart trip. You’re not finished with her, you fool. You can’t be.

“... I’m so sorry, Edgar.”

The Alpha barked out a cold laugh: “Oh. You’re ‘sorry’.”

He witnessed her bite down on her tongue to keep a smart comment from slipping out. It was just as well - he wasn’t in the mood to play with her.

“... I was an idiot. I let my pride get in the way and it cost you and Moxie a lot of time and effort. I’m sorry that you had to spill so much blood over me. I never meant for it to turn out this way.”

“What exactly did you intend?” He couldn’t stop it; his temper was slipping. That usual grin had been wiped from his face the moment they’d made eye contact from across the aisle, that hot, heavy burden unfurling in his chest like a phoenix. “Hm? What did you THINK would happen?” He rose both hands, intent on grabbing her shoulders with them, though he shovelled them into his pockets after a moment of thought. I can’t touch you right now. I’ll hurt you. And then it’s game over. “Let me ask you something, Grace. Is this all a big joke to you? Do you think it wise to reach inside me and meddle with my feelings? Do you think my jealousy is anything other than murderous? No matter how you played your hand with Arthur against me, he would have wound up dead.”

“...”

Grace bowed her head, resigning herself to his words. He no doubt had a lot of them for her after the stunt she’d pulled, and she couldn’t say that she blamed him. Had she known that Arthur possessed wickedness that outranked even Edgar’s, she never would have pretended to join his creed. She had wanted to see Edgar come back to her, not start war with a vicious clan for her return. Thinking about it now, it was a silly move on her behalf from the get-go; a classic case of playground politics, and she couldn’t quite believe what her hunger for him had made her do. She was far from stupid. She knew that was why he was so angry with her: had he expected idiocy, it wouldn’t have been as big a deal.

“You were reckless, and spiteful, and stupid.” He exploded all at once, though she was surprised that his foot didn’t connect with her once; instead, he kicked the pew beside them for all it was worth, its harsh thud echoing like thunder. Though she flinched, she remained still, knowing that she deserved it if he decided to hurt her. His rage was always so well-hidden. Sometimes, she forgot that it sat there just beneath the surface. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, GRACE?!”

In a shaken voice: “I… wanted you to look at me.”

He made a noise, one that she was certain she would see transcribed beside the word ‘feral’ in a dictionary. “I’ve been looking at you since day one. DAY. ONE.”

“I was hungry…”

“Don’t talk to ME about hunger.” He did touch her then; his thumb and forefinger reaching up with lightning speed to seize her chin, forcing her head up to look at him. Before she had seen him with a serious expression, she had sworn to Raku that there was nothing more disconcerting than a smiling Edgar. She had learned that that assessment had been wrong only after witnessing his frustration for herself. In a hiss, Edgar continued: “I have starved for your sake, Grace Adler. You don’t know how many nights I’ve spent laying awake, entertained only by thoughts of you. You have no clue how deep my lust for you runs. I have spent centuries fantasising about you. About us. About our children. And you do this. You fill me with repulsion; with disappointment. I was a fool to think of you as perfect--”

“Whose fault is that?” Her hand wrapped around his wrist, pushing his hand away from her face. “I never pretended to be perfect, Edgar. I do stupid things sometimes. Guess what! Your perfect little princess MAKES MISTAKES. The same as EVERYONE ELSE.” She felt his arm tense. Her own fingers tightened, free index finger jabbed close to his face. “Stop projecting your impossible standards onto me. I am not your angel.” She released him then, genuinely terrified by the thought of him overpowering her. After a deep breath, she took a calculated step away from him. “... I messed up. I’m not trying to shift blame. I accept responsibility for this mess, and by extension, the punishment.”

“The ‘punishment’.”

“Yes, the punishment. Are you a parrot?” Old habits died hard; she suspected, if she continued to slip in comment after comment like that, she would die harder.

He scoffed. “The punishment is the fracture in our relationship. Though I suspect you’re too concerned with yourself to consider that a bad thing.” Whilst shoving his hands into his pockets, Edgar turned his back on her and began to make his way out. He was brought to a stop by a tug of his coat. “... let go.”

“I won’t…”

Edgar closed his eyes slowly, taking a deep breath before levelling his gaze on the door. In a quiet but fierce hiss: “Let. Go.”

He’d been so prepared for her to do as she was told that he was thrown off kilter when she pulled him backwards. He stumbled, though it took only a single misstep to correct his stance before he whirled around and seized her shirt collar, forcibly dragging her to him. She had to stand on her tiptoes to keep from being suspended. His eyes flickered from huro to lye’s, that obsidian emptiness stealing the breath from her throat. He’s so angry with me.

Seethed: “Do not test my patience, Grace. We are done.”

Fear filled her face as he squeezed. The applied pressure sent blood rushing to her head, though a curious heat pooled in her stomach simultaneously. You can’t be done with me. You came back for me. You could’ve let me die but you came back for me. I need you.

Before she could think about it, she reached a hand towards him, gaining a firm grip on his tie and tugging him towards her with all of her might. Their lips met hard. She felt his hand loosen around her throat, taken completely by surprise. Only when she felt the need to breathe did she pull away, drinking in his stunned expression.

In a soft voice, one he had longed to hear since the beginning: “... forgive me, Alpha, but we can’t be done.” After taking a moment to gather her courage, she continued: “... I have too many feelings for you to let you go. So I’m sorry, but I won’t.” Despite her fear, she looked her superior in the face. When he didn’t stop her, she leaned close once more, pressing the softest of kisses to the corner of his mouth. “... I understand that it’s too little too late for you, but the truth is that I’m in love with you, Edgar… and I wanted to hold your attention. I didn’t want you to get bored with me just because I was difficult, because I wouldn’t give myself to you. This was the wrong thing to do but you came for me… you could’ve left me. You’ve always come for me...” Though she hated it intensely, she could feel herself becoming emotional. She wasn’t someone that was known for her sentiment nor her gentle heart, but the truth was that it was impossible for her to give up on somebody that she had let in. Despite all odds, despite all of the fighting and the bloodshed and the frustration, Edgar had stayed. “... so even though you’re angry…” One shaking hand raised until she could touch his face. His skin was soft and warm despite the things that he did. “... I don’t think you’re done with me, either.”

His stare became hazy, clouded by something she couldn’t place. It wasn’t lust, that she knew, though she couldn’t see it being rage either. In truth, he was angry, though it was being redirected towards himself. I promised myself that I wouldn’t do this again. I promised myself that I wouldn’t get involved with anybody else the way I got involved with my previous wives in my previous life, and yet here I stand, unable to leave, because Grace Adler is right.

Walk away.

Do not admit your feelings for her.

Cut. This. Cord.

When their lips met properly for a second time, it was a mutual effort. She didn’t stop him as he pressed her up against the nearest pew, even as the wood dug into the backs of her thighs. His body against hers made her whimper with need, her fingers dragging from his tie to his chest. His heartbeat drummed mercilessly against her tingling fingers, its heavy rhythm setting the example for her pulse as he pushed his tongue into her mouth. The taste of him was like an omen, dreary and serious, though with an intoxicating hint of blood.

Her head spun as she felt his claws rake along her thigh, sharp tips catching in the material of her skirt as he clung to her with a hunger so wild she felt fit to drown in it. She tore away from him panting, though only to breathe a desperate request.

“Sign me again…”

Her breath hitched when she felt his hand in her hair, pulling her head to the side with a fierce tug. After a moment of hesitation: “Did he mark you…?”

“No,” she heaved, clinging to his coat like her life depended on it. “I wouldn’t let him…”

The growl he gave in response was equal parts irritated and proud as he reached up to wrestle with the buttons on her collar. He pulled too hard, sending them scattering across the floor, and her gasp of shock fed a sliver of his appetite so feral and dark that he didn’t want to think about it too much. He moved clothing out of his way until he could find her mark. The pattern of his teeth sat firmly ingrained into her collar, even all these centuries later, and he found himself attached to her with something more than business in mind.

Grace whimpered for a second time as she drank in the sensation of his teeth puncturing her soft skin, body growing hot as she thought about how happy she was. My Alpha didn’t leave me behind, even though he should have… his marking is all I need. She was blissed out, euphoric, quivering like an arrow post-shot, and when he finally pulled away she met his eyes with her lack of focus plain as day.

“... you love me, huh?”

There was no use in playing the proud fool now. With her cheeks flushed and her eyes half-lidded, Grace nodded slowly. “... and I’m sorry I was too afraid to tell you until I’d ruined it all.”

The Alpha cleared his throat quietly. It wasn’t as if all was forgotten. He was still pissed off, bluntly put, but he was unable to deny how he felt about her. It was funny to him. At this point in time, he thought that he would have walked away. Instead, he stood there just as in love with her as he was before she’d pulled this ridiculous stunt. This has never happened before. My image of her isn’t ruined. How could that be?

“You’re an incredibly fortunate woman, Grace,” he told her while sighing deeply. I was so prepared to walk away, to cut you out of my life, but now you’ve confessed I can’t tell what’s what. The only thing I know is that-- “... fortunate in that I feel the same. Even in spite of all this.” He took a breath, running a hand through his hair before it dropped to his side, leaving his usually side-swept bangs ruffled and uneven. “And fortunate in that, even when I want to hurt you, you look great. Great enough for me to stop and consider what it is I’ve got.”

The smile that gradually lit up her face was heaven-sent. It made him feel as if his heart had dropped to his feet, then rocketed straight to his brain in the space of a second. Dizzying, maddening, and all he could think about was her, her, her--

I’m going mad. I’m going absolutely, irrevocably, irretrievably mad.

#☆ — tell me how you hate me. ❜ ( ooc. )#drabble *

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blapisblogs · 5 years

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Corey Taylor (yes, he’s still here) has so little to do in this “review”- er, is so bored of this “review”- uh, I mean, is so bored with watching The Wall that he starts drifting off. Doug somehow knows this, stares at him through the TV, and says “Is there anybody who cares”, leading into the next song parody. Part-way into the song Tamara Chambers comes back in as the maid, Malcolm Ray as a body guard (still dressed as one of the “kids” only now he’s wearing glasses), and... Brad Jones (aka The Cinema Snob) as the manager (I guess), all of whom try to wake up Corey Taylor by overacting like hell.

For those who don’t know, most people ended up leaving Channel Awesome with three exceptions: Doug Walker (of course), Larry Bundy Junior (who only stayed for laughs), and Brad Jones, so I’m not that surprised the latter has turned up here. I’m ashamed to say that I used to watch some of Brad’s content, but since the whole Not So Awesome document incident happened, he’s said some pretty terrible things about the whole situation (he’s the one who infamously said “Logan Paul filmed a dead body and he still has a career” during an interview talking about the Change the Channel movement), so I’ve since stopped watching him as well. That said, at least he’s slightly better than Doug is at imitating the film counterpart he’s standing in for (in this case Pink’s manager, played by the late Bob Hoskins), but that’s hardly saying much when Doug’s not even trying.

While the first line spoofs “Is There Anybody Out There?”, the actual song that gets parodied next is “Comfortably Numb”, a song where Pink is being medicated by a doctor in order to perform for his next show. I don’t have much else to say about what happens during this parody, it’s really uninteresting, which is exactly what Doug is saying about these parts of the film. The thing is, those “slow, mopey” songs serve a purpose to the plot: they’re about how Pink feels as he’s gradually isolating himself from everyone else. This parody? It’s a whole song calling the other ones slow and boring, and takes yet another jab at Roger Waters. This is, what, the third or fourth parody song in a row where he’s insulted him now? We got it the first time, Doug. There are so many other things in this album and film that could be discussed here: how the gradual abuse affects Pink’s psyche and causes him to further spiral into depression, the dangers of what Pink is doing to himself (and unintentionally others), the directions they took for this film that differ from the album, anything. Yes, Waters’s ego might be hard to ignore while knowing the backstory, but you could at least try to talk about literally anything else regarding the film. Or, if you wanna talk about Roger Waters’s ego behind this project so badly, Doug, then actually talk about it. Talk about the spitting incident that led to this, talk about how Waters had the most creative control on this project while the other three members had almost no say in it, talk about the disagreements he had with director Alan Parker while making this film, talk about how this led to Waters leaving the band and later tried to sue them for still calling themselves Pink Floyd afterwards (which he of course lost). Doug does literally none of this, which makes it feel like he either assumes everyone knows this already or he himself doesn’t know all of it due to not doing any research into it (and let’s just say that I wouldn’t be surprised if the latter turned out to be true). I’m sorry I keep bringing up this one thing, but that’s because that’s what Doug keeps doing in this “review”; he’s a broken record.

The song eventually ends when Brad Jones tells Corey Taylor to “sober up or have an existential conflict”. I didn’t even know he was supposed to be drunk in this “review”, but I guess that would explain a lot. Also, I guess this means that Doug Walker doesn’t find Pink’s internal conflict (which is, you know, the whole point of the album and film) to be interesting, which at this point is unsurprising but still frustratingly disappointing. It’s also sad considering that Doug is a critic who can’t be bothered to consider internal conflict as valid as existential conflict or think that Pink’s internal conflict is causing some of his existential conflict. For someone who goes on about character depth and development in other things, Doug sure avoids talking about any of that for this in favor of continually shitting on it for the sake of poorly-thought-out jokes.

Anyway, it then goes to the in-video commercial break. I’m not even half-way through yet.

Fuck.

[Lyrics (and snark) below the cut]

Is there anybody who cares?

Wake up (wake up, wake up) Are you still awake in that chair? Just keep listening to me I know you’re kinda bored

[Five lines and every single one leaves good openings for jokes at its expense. At least the parodies before this weren’t this easy to make jokes about, this is just... It’s too much to not use it as an excuse to make fun of it, yet also too easy. Fuck you?]

Yeah sure (yeah sure, yeah sure) It’s a lot of slow songs now It’s hard to keep on track With mellow songs back-to-back

[Again, this means that you somehow consider “What Shall We Do Now” (warning: this one has NSFW and unsettling imagery depicting sex, violence, blood, drugs, Nazis, death, and other things, and also gets really loud), “Young Lust”, “One of my Turns”, and “Another Brick in the Wall (Part 3)” to be “mellow”, which they aren’t really, at least not compared to the others. I can’t even think of how you could say that about “Young Lust”, unless... Doug, please don’t tell me that you think “Empty Spaces” and “Young Lust” are the same song, because I cannot comprehend how you could know that “The Happiest Days of Our Lives” and “Another Brick in the Wall (Part 2)” are separate songs but not know that those two are not one and the same.]

(Sorry, I can’t tell what these next couple of lines are saying because this is the part where Brad, Tamara and Malcolm come in and the former starts talking over the song. Given how crappy these lyrics are, maybe that’s for the best.)

You need to watch this movie first Just a half-hour more Come on, you’ve gotten through worse

[I’ve been telling myself that since roughly the ten minute mark of this video, and yet every time I come back here to type more about it I keep feeling the urge to close the tab for it.]

You can’t be bored while we are singing

[Wait, “we”? Are you making fun of all of the members of Pink Floyd now instead of just Roger Waters? What did David Gilmour, Nick Mason and Richard Wright do to you, asshole? I thought you were taking these potshots at Waters because of the effect this album ended up having on the other band members even after he left, now it sounds like you’ve got some personal beef with Pink Floyd in general, which gets really screwy given something you end up saying later.]

Unless you don’t wanna be seen as deep

[Doug, you can’t be bothered to even analyze or even properly talk about the surface-level symbolism that’s right there in front of you in this film; you don’t get to lecture me on what’s deep or not.]

Your attention constantly may fade Your eyes move, but do you care what we’re saying?

[You might as well have called this “Tempting Fate: The Song” with all these lyrics ripe to make fun of.]

When I was a child I remember being invested Like hearing “The Dark Side of the Moon”

[You can barely comprehend the things that are going on in “The Wall”, don’t drag “Dark Side of the Moon” into this.]

Now I’ve grown, this section starts to drag Like a long neck, I just don’t understand Is this now how I am? I have become comfortably dumb

[As many others have already pointed out, that is literally the easiest joke you could’ve gone with for that line. It’s like turning “Kingdom Hearts” into “Kingdom Farts”; a literal child could’ve come up with that joke.]

Okay (okay, okay) Just get through the damn flick You want to seem cool But this ain’t getting your kicks Can you listen? (Listen, listen) Later there will be a quiz

[You are the last person who should be giving quizzes about this film or album, Doug.]

Somebody has to feel the same When I become so lame

[“Lame”? I could be wrong, but last I checked Waters is doing just fine. Or are you talking about the other members of Pink Floyd? Because from what I’ve heard Gilmour isn’t currently doing so well mentally, and if you’re making fun of that, then... wow, fuck you.]

There is only so long I can go With hearing a millionaire say that things blow It’s like I’ve been asleep for days The film plays, but I can’t take the complaining

[You know, you keep saying that, but at least people can relate to some of the things that were brought up in the songs here. Losing a loved one in a tragic and violent way at a young age? Having an overbearing, emotionally abusive parent? An oppressive and unfair school system? An unfaithful partner? As unfortunate as it is, those are all things some people out there can relate to. At least they’re all not petty, shallow insults about things Waters doesn’t personally like, Doug.]

Like telling a child “It’s just how everything is” Just fighting to open my eyes The epic feels I had are gone I don’t know what is going on

[Neither do the people who watched this and know nothing about the film or album, from what I could tell: you’ve done nothing to help them understand what’s actually happening given how much context you’ve left out. All you’ve done is go “Roger Waters has a big ego, Roger Waters has a big ego, people who complain about school are special snowflakes, something something World War 2, animation, slow mopey songs, did I mention Roger Waters has a big ego?”]

Now the child is gone And I’ve moved on I wish those days weren’t just a phase

[Since you said there was a quiz later, Doug, I’m gonna have to retaliate and ask you to submit an essay to me explaining why you thought it was necessary to put this song into your already lengthy “review”. No, you are not allowed to use the phrase “Fuck Roger Waters and his ego” or words to that effect; that alone is not a decent argument.]

#Blapis tears down NC's The Wall #abuse mention //#drug mention //#long post #bold text warning

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fyompi · 5 years

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Remembering Final Fantasy X-2

It’s hard to assess whether to call X-2 “good,” but if I did, I wouldn’t mean “good” in the most traditional sense. The game is an unnecessary sequel to one of the best Japanese role-playing games ever made, and turns a somber, existential, occultist storyline into an upbeat comedy.

What’s weird is that I don’t dislike this at all. Final Fantasy games have always been funny, and have arguably relied more on their world building than actual plot. They’re visually super interesting. Their character and monster designs are discussed more now than anything that actually happens in them.

Maybe somebody from Enix realized this, for better or worse. There’s nothing about the structure and framework of the Final Fantasy series that limits them to being strictly dramas. Recognizing that fact made the existence of a comedy entry sort of an inevitability.

Final Fantasy X-2 is effectively a magical girl anime. A genre of anime that is notably, and characteristically created for girls. Transformation sequences, in which a teenage female character changes outfits from regular surface-level Earthling attire, to a vibrant and glittery superhero popstar, is a mainstay in the genre. Usually, these shows were divided into two segments: one depicting the main character’s day-to-day “normal” life, like a regular sitcom, and then later changing into an action fantasy show for like five minutes. The bulk of the shows had little to do with the fighting, and more to do with the lives of the characters. Over many seasons, you see this character grow up, make friends, go on dates, have her heart broken, and sometimes even have kids. It makes the serious aspects of the show feel heavier, once you’ve gotten to know this person.

I love these shows. Sailor Moon is one of the best looking animated television shows ever made. Every frame is a work of art, and every person I know who grew up enjoying it has amazing fashion sense today.

Taking the already pretty flamboyant, and visually-unorthodox world of Final Fantasy, and turning into a magical girl anime makes a ton of sense, despite it being in the same world as something so drastically different. Tidus, the main character from Final Fantasy X, was already modeled after a real world Japanese pop star from the nineties, and Tetsuya Nomura’s fashion sense might be the most striking aspect of the series. It’s a series dripping in glitzy, futuristic visual design. The influence these games have had on my personal taste in art can’t be understated.

I would even go as far as to say, watching my cousins play Final Fantasy X-2 is the most critical reason I have any interest in fashion today. Which might be hard to imagine for some, given how incredible gauche some of the outfits can be in this game. But to me, playing these games with other people felt like watching the Met Gala; you bicker with your friends at the sight of every new outfit, whether it’s beautiful or horrendous, and slowly the line dividing the two begins to fade into abstraction. That’s how I felt looking at all the different outfits in Final Fantasy X-2 as a child. I understood why fashion is fun, and realized that girls my age were smarter than I was giving them credit for.

Like a year later, I went to my friend’s birthday party and met his older cousins who were also into Final Fantasy, and I told them that Final Fantasy X-2 was my favorite game in the series. They all proceeded to yell at me for ten straight minutes about how awful it was. I didn’t tell them that I had never actually played the game, only looked at it, and decided that it was my favorite thing to look at. I remember very vividly, one of them was wearing smokey eyeliner, and I really liked looking at him too. Something about his eyeliner made me think he’d appreciate X-2 more than he did, and I was disappointed when he complained about the lack of plot, and how it “ruined” his favorite entry in the series. I didn’t tell them that I liked the game because of the outfits because I was too embarrassed to, so instead I told them the battle system was really good, which I had heard was the case, from people who’d actually played it. One nodded and said “yeah, that battle system is pretty freaking good. You ever played F. F. 2 though?”

“No.” “2’s got an even better battle system. If you like that kinda stuff you gotta play that game.”

He meant Final Fantasy 4, released in America as Final Fantasy 2. I was a senior in high school when I realized that’s what he meant. When he had told me though, I didn’t want to play either, because those games weren’t three-dimensional, and they didn’t have voice acting, and they didn’t have cute outfits like X-2 did.

My appreciation for the series wasn’t as “deep” as theirs but the world captured me just the same. That same year, I had played Kingdom Hearts 2, and then Kingdom Hearts 1, and decided Kingdom Hearts 2 was the better game because you got to play as Roxas, who has objectively better hair than Sora. I played on Easy, and never equipped any items or abilities to my character because I didn’t like looking at the menus, and didn’t like reading tutorials. I just wanted to see the world, I didn’t really care about what was really going on in it. It was absolutely impossible, playing it this way.

I couldn’t relate when the boys at the party were bragging about beating Kingdom Hearts 1 on level 1, or beating Riku first-try, or playing through the Japanese-exclusive Kingdom Hearts 2: Final Mix, because it had a “critical mode” which was harder than the hardest difficulty in the American release of the game. All of this was really strange to me, and I felt really stupid that I couldn’t ever imagine being that good at a videogame. That was also the first moment it occurred to me that calling a game I’ve never played “my favorite game” was sorta fraud-behavior. They lived in these games, and I was a tourist. I realized that most of the people who played, and enjoyed Final Fantasy X enough to both complete it, and buy it’s sequel, are people like them. The game did not cater to these people. They later took me to their computer desk and had me watch five back-to-back episodes of Red vs. Blue on youtube. I couldn’t follow any of what was going on in any episode.

Eventually, I got around to playing Final Fantasy X-2, and the battle system was as good as everybody told me it would be. It’s too good. It’s sometimes so good, that I forget how shallow the rest of the game is. It’s so good that it makes me hate how little the game focuses on it.

A simple RPG with a tight battle system, and little story, is fine by me. Dragon Quest games are incredibly straightforward, in the best way possible. The substance of the battles, and the quaintness of the adventure, makes every game incredibly charming. Final Fantasy X-2 unfortunately, tries to add substance where there is none, by forcing the player to complete very boring mini-games after every story advancement. This is the director’s way of constantly reminding the player of the upbeat, and non-serious tone of the game. But instead, these sequences are wastes of time, that feel like distractions, from the empty storyline. They’re also so difficult to watch in 2019.

youtube

I don’t need to be distracted though, because I don’t mind a jrpg that isn’t an epic. I just want a game that’s about something. If the gameplay was only traversing the world, and honing the battle system, that would be enough for me. But instead, it becomes clear to me early on that the team didn’t know who to cater to. The primary audience for magical girl anime might be turned off by the blatant objectification of the three main characters, and the primarily male audience of Final Fantasy don’t seem to want an electric popist sitcom to be their non-plot.

On top of that, the voice acting is a lot worse than I remember, and the Playstation 2 doesn’t really have the hardware to adequately depict X-2’s nautical sci-fi fashion, except in fully CGI cutscenes, which are incredibly rare in this game. And in the few CGI cutscenes that do exist, the directors get to choose what outfits the characters are in, which aren’t the outfits I would ever choose, because they aren’t the Black Mage outfits. The outfits they wear in the box-art are the outfits they wear in every CGI cutscene. Every other outfit is limited to the blocky in-game models. I can’t even find high definition concept art of these outfits. It’s a shame, because some of them are amazing.

On top of that, I don’t actually get to know these characters well. The character progression, which made X amazing, and made shows like Sailor Moon substantive, isn’t there. For all the bells and whistles they put in the game, nothing actually matters. Yuna is upbeat and cute, Rikku is young and adhd, and Paine is goth. That’s really it, for the whole game. The script is very rarely funny enough to get away with such shallow characters. It loses its charm incredibly quickly.

That depleting likability is a big issue when the game’s substance comes in its side quests. This game is a nightmare to 100% complete, and since the primary collectibles are the outfits, the game really makes you feel like a loser when you miss anything. The most interesting part of the game is hidden behind the worst parts, and made me realize how privileged I was to have my cousin do all that for me, and let me see the good parts.

So, I begrudgingly understand, and agree with the criticism, of a game so tailor-made to my specific taste. I wish I could recommend it to people, but I don’t know anybody with the attention span required to make this game worthwhile. What’s especially sad is the fact that, if this game were a lot better, it might have successfully opened the creative gates of Final Fantasy games to their audience. To this day, Americans still seem to think that a jrpg’s quality is defined by the plot alone. There’s so much more going on with the genre, that can be attributed to many different types of experiences, and unfortunately, Final Fantasy X-2 is far from an adequate example of this.

#final fantasy #yuna #video games #review

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