#(if Kuja lets any of them do anything that day of course)

[asheanon]

✨ 🎹 The Great Pianering ✨ — Entry for @xkuja. 🎼 If music is desired: The song, performed in this style. (0:05 - 2:35)

Entertaining as it proved to be to test the limits of what qualified as music in this peculiar palace, surely, there would be a day where the inevitable would happen. Where something more than jest would make its debut…

Distinctly crisp, the sound of a cembalo key roused from its slumber reverberated throughout the room once more - albeit, softly for its ilk. A hesitant intro; thoughtfully reticent. A song did not spring forth immediately, rather, it carefully emerged… from the ether, as it would.

The “personality” of a musical construct often coincided with that of its musician. Together, it was as if two became one. Often. Not always.

Though notably well versed, she could still feel the metaphorical dissonance between her and this instrument as she attempted to “open up” to it. They were strangers, though acquainted. Faithful, yet foreign. However… there was a novelty in this paradox. An odd and ever curious affection towards the matter moved her forward.

Led to sway, russet bangs served as a curtain to obscure her starlit stare with every dip and turn of the head. The sonata was cast in a new light. Another intonation, granting a divergent perspective of its ariose heart. Beautifully versant as it was untraveled.

In time, the assumed final bars bled from her fingers with a delicacy that was still tangible, despite the departure from pianoforte. 

“Should you wish to play, the seat is yours.” With little warning, she then spoke. What remained of the melody hummed softly beneath her words before fading into nothing.

It would seem it had suddenly dawned on her that she was no longer alone in this room - despite an absence of introduction or any manner of clarification from who had decided to join her. That, or she had only just decided to address them.

After all, it was not unusual for an occasional stray mage to wander in. Though, this visitor felt different… Different, yet familiar.

[brainfuzzz]

Old Truths Ch. 9 "Freedom Part 4"

Yep, another Crocodile learns that he's Luffy's mother fic because why not? Also, I'm making him the Snake Princess before Hancock because I'm already in Crocomom hell so why not pile on more to it, right? Expect a reunion with Dragon as Crocodile goes on a journey for the truth and eventually finds peace. ~!!!POTENTIAL TIGGER WARNING!!!~ So, I don't actually know if this really needs a trigger warning, but I'd rather be safe than anything. This chapter has some angst surrounding growing up poor with a neglectful parent and trauma. I put a * at the start and end of that content. Or you could skip the chapter all together. I'll put a quick gist of everything that happened at the end notes if you want to skip.

When he first woke up in that dark room, the children had pushed themselves against the back wall, trying to put as much distance between them and Crocodile. Afraid that he would be just as cruel as every other adult they’ve come across since being taken. Crocodile didn’t know how to react at first. He could only stare, refusing to accept what he was seeing. The cuffs around his wrists rub his skin raw as he carefully pushes himself against a wall, wincing at his shoulder.

            “It’s alright,” he says without thinking. He’s never been a kid person. Kids are loud, messy, needy things that he has never had the patience for in the past. But sitting in this dark damp room, staring at fifteen tear stained eyes, he’s overwhelmed with a feeling that he’s never felt before. A feeling so strong that deep down to his core he knows that he will not let anything happen to these children. He has to stop and correct his face into a gentler expression before saying, “I’m not going to let them hurt you.”

            Those simple words were all it took for most of the children to run forward and throw their arms around him. The other’s stay put. Their trust in adults wouldn’t be so easily given. Not after what they’ve been through. In their eyes he can’t help but see a bit of himself. He had been the same way at their age. It had been his own mother that taught him to be that way. To be wary of anyone the world says is trustworthy.

*

He never had a relationship with his mother. Despite being raised by the woman, he barely knew her. Apparently, she had been a mighty warrior, but other than that? Nothing. Before Crocodile was born, she was part of the Kuja Pirate crew and was said to be completely devoted to the Snake Empress. But Crocodile never got to see that side of her. By the time Crocodile was born, that adventurous, fearless woman had been turned into a silent recluse. A woman happy to spend her days smoking a pipe while staring out at the horizon. Crocodile can still see her in his mind, her dark hair spilling over the top of her chair with muddy boots lazily propped on their balcony railing. Never saying a word unless to tell him to go and fetch more tobacco or to ask when dinner was ready.  

He spent his entire childhood staring at the back of her head, trying to get a response—any response—out of her. One day he had been practicing his archery when one of his arrows went a little too far off course into the jungle. While trying to retrieve it, he had slipped and scrapped his knee against a rock. It wasn’t a normal scrape; it had cut deep into his skin, exposing tender flesh. Not knowing what to do, he went to his mother, crying and begging for her help. He had grabbed her bony arm, shaking it helplessly while wailing in pain. He can still remember the way it felt as the blood spilled down his calf, dripping on their old splintery floor. Even with her child pleading for help while in excruciating pain, still, she didn’t turn to him. Instead, she lifted her pipe to her thin dry lips and blew out a steady stream of smoke. The pain in his leg became overshadowed by the overwhelming ache that came with the realization that there was nothing he could do or say to make her turn to him. She would never open her arms and hold him the way other mothers did to their daughters. She would never smile and give encouraging words when his self-doubt started to get the best of him. He knew then that the day he would wake up to find her happy and finally well enough to be a mother, would never come.

 Crocodile had stopped going to his mother after that. Stopped telling her about his day despite knowing she would never respond or even nod to his words. Stopped asking if she was feeling well or if she was hungry. Stopped trying to bridge the never ending gap that separated them. After that moment he became crushingly aware of just how quiet and empty their home was. Without him filling the space with pointless chatter, that silence ate away at him until, without realizing, he was slowly becoming a recluse too.

He had tried dressing the wound himself. His trembling hands fumbling with the handmade ointment he concocted out of the plants from the nearby jungle. He remembers dabbing at the wound, struggling to see properly through fat heavy tears before ultimately giving up and wrapping it with a few strips of an old shirt he used as bandages. He spent the next few days trying to ignore the overwhelming pain in his leg until it started to smell, and a neighbor woman forced him to go to the doctor. The doctor had scolded him when she discovered his infected wound. Apparently, the homemade bandages he used weren’t clean and only made the wound worse. He had quietly apologized and sat motionless for the rest of the visit, trying not to flinch with every touch.

When he had tried to leave after being treated, the doctor stopped him, refusing to let him leave until his mother came and picked him up. She sent someone to fetch his mother and told him to stay in the waiting room. Crocodile had been unable to tell her that his mother would never come, the words stuck in his throat. So instead, he sat in the waiting room and read through the few books she had laying out. Eventually a few girls his age sat across from him. They swung their legs as they spoke to each other, glancing in his direction from time to time.

Eventually he heard one whisper, “Why is she so dirty?”

Crocodile’s heart had practically stopped. He stared down at his clothes, the dirt stains and tears suddenly becoming obvious for the first time. The girl next to her nudged her, “Look at her leg. She probably just fell and got dirty.”

Crocodile had breathed a quiet sigh of relief, grateful for this girl. It wasn’t true of course. That was how he always looked back then. As the day crawled by, eventually the doors to the waiting room opened and to his complete surprise, in stepped his mother. Everyone in the room had stared at her, some shocked, others silently disgusted. Crocodile’s heart dropped to his stomach. Never in a million years did he expect her to actually come. But there she was, with her greasy hair draped over her shoulders, frizzy and tangled from never being washed or brushed, her clothes covered in stains and holes, her sunken face and already sharp features making her look practically ancient. It had been so long since Crocodile had actually seen his mother’s face that he was unable to do anything but stare in shock. That is until, the girls across from him had turned to each other, both wide eyed, the corners of their mouths quirking into smirks as one snorted, “Oh.”

“Let’s go.” His mother’s voice was like gravel from her constant smoking. Her glassed over hooded eyes trained on a spot in the room, never turning in his direction. Even then, she was refusing to look at him. He wanted to leap from his chair and run. Run out of that room, run to the edge of the island, and jump on a ship that would take him far away. So far that he could start over, live another life. A life where he would never be looked at and hear that awful, Oh, ever again.

But he didn’t do that. Instead, he hastily slid from his chair and limped out of the office, desperate to get away from the prying eyes. The doctor had been standing in a doorway, watching. She wouldn’t let Crocodile leave because she had wanted his mother to help him walk home. Instead, his mother walked slowly behind him, making her own child limp helplessly out of the office. Crocodile’s face flushed red with hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

When he finally managed to limp home, he had thrown himself down on his bed. A bed that consisted of a single old child mattress that he was quickly outgrowing. He pulled the old dated sheets over his head and let himself cry. He remembers covering his mouth trying to muffle his choked sobs as tears dripped down his nose soaking the old mattress. His leg throbbed with pain, but he didn’t care. His mother walked through their tiny dilapidated house and reclaimed her spot in her chair. He hears her rummaging in her tin box where she kept her tobacco, then she cursed.

“Hey,” his mother coughed, “go get me more tobacco.”

Crocodile sniffed, struggling to swallow the knot in his throat before saying, “I can’t… walk…”

His mother had cursed again, angrier this time, before getting up and stomping across the room and slamming the door behind her, shaking the house. Eventually he pulled the sheet down from his face and sat up. He stared at his clothes. They were hand-me-downs, given to him from some local women. They never fit properly, and every piece of clothing had some form of hole or set in stain that no amount of washing could get out. He reached for the little nook by his bed where he kept books, homework, and everything else he owned. He pulled out a small hand mirror that had a crack going down the center. Staring at his reflection he noticed for the first time just how much he resembled his mother. He pressed his lips together, desperately trying to hold back tears. His face was just as sunken in as hers, his features sharp and unpleasing to the eye. His dark hair was just as greasy, his face was smudged with dirt and the sauce from breakfast, and to top it all off, his body was covered in a thin layer of dirt.

The mirror shook as his whole body trembled. He decided then that he would never be like his mother. That no one would ever be able to look at them and go, oh. As if this was all he could ever be. His clothes would never have holes in them, and he would make sure he never smelled. He would sacrifice meals if it meant being able to free himself from a life of dirt and silence.

Once his leg healed enough to walk on, he made his way to the river to bathe every morning and then again at night. There were public hot springs that the rest of the village used, but he couldn’t make it that far. Even when his leg healed, he couldn’t get himself to go bathe with the rest of the village. The weight of their stares too heavy to bear. He saved money by buying a cheaper brand of tobacco for his mother and stuffing it into a box of her usual brand. When going to get food he would shove some extra cash into the spine of his favorite book and use whatever that was left to buy groceries. This meant he would go with little to nothing to eat some days. He had to give it all to his mother, otherwise she might realize what he was doing and stop it. Not because she would be worried for his health but because it would make her angry to know she hasn’t been smoking her expensive tobacco.

Whatever money he was able to steal, he used to buy soap, new clothes, and detergent. For the first time in his entire life, he was wearing clean clothes, his hair shined not from grease but from being clean. His skin was smooth and fresh with a light scent of flowers. Sure, he was hungry most of the time, his ribs becoming a little too noticeable, but he didn’t care. Because for the first time in his life, he had been so proud of himself. He no longer shirked away from mirrors or kept his head down when walking through the streets. He wore clothes that he picked out himself! Brand new clothes, never worn by anyone else. For the first time, he was proud of who he was.

But in the end, none of that mattered. The damage had already been done. The kids at school had already made up their minds about him and were contempt to keep him at arm’s length. At one point, a girl spread a rumor that he had lice which only cemented everyone’s opinions, despite it not being true and him being the cleanest he’s ever been. Even the clothes he had been so proud of, wasn’t enough to sway them into friendship. While all of the other kids wore similar shawls and little loincloths, leaving most of their skin exposed, he had picked out clothes that nearly covered every inch of his body. He wore pants that hid his bruised and scarred legs and a shirt that didn’t expose his stomach or chest. These clothes made him feel good inside, but to the other girls, it was just another reason why he didn’t belong.

 And it wasn’t just the kids. When he tried being friendly to teachers or elders like all the other girls, they would always have this look on their face. As if they couldn’t understand why this strange child was speaking to them. The ease of conversation when other children went up to them, excited to share whatever news they had, would vanish the moment he opened his mouth. So, he stopped trying to reach out to the adults too. And just like back home, when he stopped trying to initiate conversation, desperately trying to form a connection, he realized that even there his life was surrounded by suffocating silence.

Despite all this, he couldn’t give up school. As much as he hated the mocking from the other kids and the teachers never taking his side, he couldn’t stop going. At school he could read books about the outside world. He could find an escape and get lost in a story. His favorites were the stories about pirates. He would sneak a book home and read under candlelight while his mother passed out on her mattress pressed against the wall across the room from his. He would imagine himself as a pirate captain on the wide open seas. In his head he wore the finest clothing, had fine dining every night, and never worried about money ever again. He found a picture of a pirate in one of his books. Everything about him was different from the people from Amazon Lily. From the way he dressed all the way to his male anatomy. When Crocodile would fall asleep dreaming of becoming a pirate, he never saw himself like the women in Amazon Lily, instead he always pictured himself looking like that pirate.

One day, after arriving at school and going straight for the library, he found nearly all the books gone. Every book containing life from the outside world had vanished. He had torn through the few books that were left. They were all about plant life, fighting styles, and things like that. Anything that had even mentioned a man was torn from the pages or written over. He had been frantic, horrified to find his one escape gone.

“They don’t want us reading those books anymore.” A girl had said. Crocodile had stared at her, trying to fight back frustrated tears. She tilted her head, letting her perfectly silky hair fall over her shoulder. “They’re worried more girls might turn out like you.”

Crocodile didn’t plan on attacking her. It just happened. One moment she was standing over him, grinning down, enjoying his pain. The next, he was on top of her, swinging punch after punch. Her once glossy blonde hair was now matted with dirt from the library floor and her picture perfect face now a bruised mess with a bloody busted nose. It had taken a teacher to get him off her. When he had successfully been dragged away, he took in the faces of his other classmates. They had never looked at him with anything other than annoyance or disgust. But now they were looking at him with a new expression. Fear.

The years went by pretty fast after that. That little stunt in the library hadn’t awarded him any new friends, but it did change the dynamic between him and the others. Now they were more hesitant to speak badly about him. At least to his face. They still hated him, made fun of him behind his back, but at least now he didn’t have to hear it every single day. He still stole from his mother, determined to stay clean and neat despite no one else caring. When his body started growing and changing, the body dysmorphia came back with a vengeance. He had once felt proud of how he looked and the way he dressed. But now? With his breasts poking under his shirt, his hips and shoulders somehow being too wide and narrow at the same time, they no longer fit him the way he wanted them to. And just like before, he found himself avoiding mirrors.

When he was old enough, he decided to focus all his energy on training. Learning how to shoot a bow and arrow, hand to hand combat, learning and mastering haki, all of this would become his new escape. He’d like to say he was able to build a relationship with his trainer, like all the others did, but he didn’t. She was more willing than others to work with him, but she made sure to never cross that line from trainer to potential mentor or friend. Crocodile didn’t care. By that point he was used to not being close to anyone. When the day finally came for the tryouts for the Kuja Pirates, he had stopped himself in the doorway of the house. His mother, still in her chair but now with greying hair hanging over the back, smoking her pipe, never turning away from the horizon.

“I’m trying out for the Kuja Pirates… mom.” His voice had sounded so strange. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken to her. But this was a huge milestone for him. This had been what he was working towards. It should have provoked some form of response out of her. From the few stories he had gathered about his mother, being part of the Kuja Pirates had been what she was proud of most. But it still didn’t surprise him when she didn’t move. He had lingered in the doorway, the heavy silence gnawing at his chest, before turning away and closing the door.

There was to be a tournament to see who the Kuja Pirates would recruit for their crew. Crocodile had been waiting for this moment almost his entire life. he would be picked to join their crew, leave the island, and the first chance he got, he would sneak off, never to be heard from again. He would leave this place behind once and for all. But that’s not what happened. At the time, Granny Nyon had been standing in as a temporary Empress after the last one died of a mysterious illness. When the tournament was over and Crocodile stood the victor, she decided then that he would become the next Empress.

Those that didn’t know him, cheered out of excitement. And those that did, stared in complete horror. Crocodile had been speechless. His heart pounded so hard against his chest it felt like it would burst out at any moment. He doesn’t remember much after that. He only remembers standing in the palace, Granny Nyon at his side, speaking excitedly about his new responsibilities and everything that would be expected of him. Then he had turned to a room filled with people, all staring directly at him, waiting for him to speak.

It was all too much. He had spent his entire life wanting someone, anyone to look at him without something other than annoyance or disgust and now that he does, all he wants to do is run away, crawl into a hole and seal it up. His voice caught in his throat, only able to make incomprehensible noises.

Granny Nyon had clapped her hands and said, “She’s too happy to speak!”

The women had cooed and awed while Crocodile struggled to breathe. His quiet world was now filled with unrelenting noise. It seemed like people popped in and out of his chambers whenever they pleased. When he was able to get a moment of peace, there was always someone waiting nearby ready to drag him back to the spotlight. And they touched him. They touched his hair, his face, his clothes. He felt like everywhere he turned, someone was reaching out to touch him. He hated every second of it.

*

So now, as children cling desperately to him, it takes everything for Crocodile to not recoil in disgust. To not shove them away or cringe when their sticky hands grab his arms or wrap around his waist. He stays still because if he moves, it will be away from the children. He cannot allow himself to become another disappointing adult to children in dire need of help. He swallows, trying not to wince when a child hits his wounded shoulder and carefully opens his chained hands, letting a little boy rest his head onto his palms. The boy’s hair is damp and matted with sweat. He’s so young, probably only a year old. How could they take someone so young and for what purpose?

            Crocodile stays completely still, trying not to let his uncomfortableness scare off the children. Suddenly, the ship rocks, causing everyone to lose balance as the sound of clashing forces explodes in the distance. When there’s another much louder clash, it’s much closer and causes a stronger lurch of the ship. Some of the children scream while latching themselves even tighter to Crocodile. Even some of the more cautious kids are now inching closer.

            “What is that?” A girl asks. She’s a giant but still noticeably young. She’s sitting across from Crocodile, her knees hugged tightly to her chest. Her right eye is covered with a bandage. A recent wound. Crocodile gently wiggles himself free of the children and stands. He tilts his head, trying to pinpoint where the fight is coming from when their ship is hit again, sending Crocodile flying against a wall. He pushes himself back, groaning slightly at the intense pain shooting down his spine and up his neck.

            “Alright,” he says, sweat starts to bead down his forehead. The pain in his shoulder is intensifying. He stares at his shackles. He won’t be able to help them like this. He looks to the room and says, “Stand back.”

            They do as he says, giving him enough room to coat his arms with haki and break himself free. He lifts his hands to his collar before the giant girl grabs his wrist, stopping him.

            “Don’t, it’ll explode if you try and take it off!” she warns with the shake of her head.

            Crocodile sighs with an understanding nod. “Of course it will.”

            There’s another crash from outside the room, this time much louder. When he can make out muffled voices on the other side of the door, he turns to the children.

            “I’m going to take your cuffs off, okay? It won’t hurt but you can’t move.” He explains, hoping it comes out gentle enough to not be frightening but firm enough for them to understand the severity of the situation. They look scared but don’t protest. One by one, Crocodile breaks them free of their chains. He can’t do anything about the collars. He’ll have to hope and pray he can think of something when they get out of here.

            Something cold rushes over Crocodile’s feet. He looks down to see water rushing in from under the door. As he frees the last child, water begins to seep through the ceiling, dripping on their heads. The children are frantic now, some trying to climb up his legs to avoid the water, others still pressing themselves to walls unable to escape. Water pours down onto Crocodile’s head, making his hair fall into his face. He swallows an angry growl while trying to push his hair from his face and keep himself from tripping on the clingy children.

            He stops, takes a deep breath, and reaches down to gently move a child so he can walk towards the door. Someone is definitely on the other side. It could be marines. It could be Dragon. He shakes that thought away. No point getting his hopes up. Either way, if they stay in this room much longer, they’ll all drown.

            “Everyone, back up.” Crocodile instructs. They do as he asks. Crocodile steps back before kicking the door. It rattles and shakes from his kick but doesn’t budge. He does it again but still, nothing. He grits his teeth, preparing himself for an even stronger kick before delivering the blow and watching the door fly off its hinges. He freezes when he sees a man in a yellow suit and marine coat standing in front of him. The man doesn’t move, momentarily frozen in shock. Crocodile turns his eyes to another man, standing past the marine. Dragon.

            He hadn’t actually expected to see him or thought that he would actually come. But here he is with his dark wild hair dripping wet, his tall sturdy frame tense from battle. Crocodile watches his glare slowly shift into something lighter. Into relief. He struggles to understand why Dragon would be here. Is he relieved to see him? Then Crocodile blinks, realizing as he turns back to the room that, no, he’s relieved to see the children, alive and safe. The reason why he was here in the first place. Crocodile buries the familiar feeling of disappointment deep down and puts all his energy into getting these kids out.

            “Let’s move!” he says, breaking the kids from their terrified trance. The giant girl steps out first, her eyes locked on the two terrifying men standing in the rising water. Crocodile swallows and forces his voice to soften, “Help me lift them through that opening.”

            Crocodile points to the gaping hole in the ceiling. Water pours in from the heavy rain, collecting on the floor, steadily rising. He hates to ask her for help. She’s just as terrified as the others but with his wounded arm he knows he won’t be able to lift all of them up that high. While they work together to lift the children up, Crocodile realizes that the marine has a beam of light building on his fist. So far, he and Dragon haven’t moved. He curses, gritting his teeth while bending down to scoop the last three children in his arms. His shoulder throbs with pain but he manages to jump through the ceiling. The rain is coming down even harder than he was expecting. He glances back down at Dragon and the marine. They are both staring at him, still stuck in a daze. The marine’s building light fades and Crocodile realizes that this is a chance for Dragon to get the upper hand.

            Crocodile shifts the three children in his arms and calls down to Dragon, “You better not let him kick your ass.”

            This breaks Dragon free from his trance, giving Crocodile enough peace to run away with children to freedom.   

Pretty much this chapter just shows what Crocodile was doing while Dragon kicked Kizaru's ass. Seeing the scared kids, it reminded him of his childhood and growing up in Amazon Lily. His mother ignored him his entire childhood and the village treated him like an outcast for being different and is basically why he finds being the Empress suffocating (being ignored your entire life then suddenly having all eyes on you is a lot). It ends right before they go off into the city.

Read full story HERE on AO3!!!

[headcanons-for-all]

Head canon where Boa Hancock adopts a baby boy found in a chest that drifted to Amazon Lily?

Boa Hancock Adopts A Baby Boy

Hancock was doing a little look around Amazon Lily, making sure everyone was doing their job and no conflict was arising.

As she reached the outskirts of the island and hit the beach, she noticed a wooden chest that was just at the shore, the sounds of a crying infant muffled inside of it.

Worried about the possible lack of air for the baby, she ran towards it and quickly opened it up to see a little baby crying inside, no blanket or toys along with it.

However, strangest of all, was the baby appeared to be male. Most of the women on Amazon Lily wouldn't have known what made you male so she quickly wrapped you up in her cape to not cause any worry or panic amongst the Kuja tribe.

When she returned to her throneroom, she revealed you to her sisters, Marigold and Sandersonia. Both of them were quite shocked but tried to stay calm. Unlike most others on the island, they immediately knew you were male due to their past.

After a few days of you staying with Hancock, she decided to reveal your existence to the people of Amazon Lily. Of course, all of them were shocked and surprised that their Empress had an infant, let along it was a male which they had heard little of before.

Hancock raises you with alot of precautions in mind. She understands the Kuja tribe are curious about the existence of a male baby on their island but they sometimes forget you're still a baby and their constant chatting and their stares can make you burst into tears.

She much prefers to keep you wrapped up close to her then leave you alone with the Kuja tribe. She understands they're just curious about you and mean no harm but having so many people surrounding you all the time is overwhelming to your tiny baby mind.

Hancock only ever leaves you alone with either Marigold or Sandersonia. They are alot more careful with you. Sandersonia pulls cute funny faces to make you laugh and Marigold is the best bodyguard a baby could ask for.

She spoils you rotten. If she finds something she thinks you'll even remotely like, she's grabbing it for you. Anything you want will be yours cause you're her little prince.

Hancock rarely leaves Amazon Lily anymore, especially for any long periods of time. She doesn't like letting you leave the island, due to the danger of Sea Kings and other pirates. She's very overprotective and doesn't like the idea of you getting hurt, let alone killed!

Hancock is an overprotective and spoiling mother but that's her way of showing you how much she cares for you, along with constant affection and cute names.

[artisticflutter]

AU August - Day Thirty: Bad End

So, I have no idea what to do for my free day. Give me a moment to think about it and I’ll be back lol. Also yes, thank you dumb ban, I’m back on the archaic fandom texts.

Series: Final Fantasy IX Rating: M Genre: Romance, Drama, Adventure Pairing(s): Zidagger Summary: Tomorrow they go to Terra to face Garland. Tomorrow… Tomorrow might be his last day. Warning: Spoilers for those who haven’t played the game obviously, connected to Day 12, and contains some lemon zest. Yes, that lemon. Look, it's almost September, gimme a break haha!

He could sleep; or maybe, he didn’t want to sleep. Staring at the red moon astride the blue moon of Gaia, he felt himself shiver.

In the past, he would never tremble at the thought of going hom--... back to Terra, but things had changed surprisingly fast. All those times, he had been simply watching Gaia grow, keeping tabs on Kuja, and making sure everything was on course. Maybe this was just what happened when you could be around actual people instead of - well - no, they were people, but they weren’t ‘alive’ yet as the Black Mages had become. They would if the fusion was completed, but he was having doubts.

Even if the fusion worked, it wouldn’t last. Thousands of years traveling the stars, devouring planets to keep a dead planet ‘living’, but this planet was already alive. Why couldn’t they just live like those on Gaia instead of maintaining the futile pursuit of immortality? And to let Gaia be taken over by Terra now, what would that mean for the people he met, the people he fought, and… her? To be immortal without her, after the smiles, the laughter, the tears, the anger, the…

He placed a hand on his chest and bit his lip, dropping his gaze and shutting his eyes.

Tomorrow, they would go to Terra and face Garland; but tomorrow, it didn’t matter what he would want. Garland’s design was to save Terra - Zidane’s design was to follow his will, and no doubt his defiance would be dealt with swiftly. Though Kuja had been ‘free’, Zidane couldn’t say the same for himself. He never worried about Garland possibly deactivating him somehow, but there was little doubt in his mind that he would leave the capability. The moment he stepped one foot on Terra with this group he’d come to be part of? Garland would know Zidane no longer sought to restore Terra by his method.

Garland would take his soul.

A cold pit settled in his chest and he shook, but he didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or maybe cry.

If he lost his soul, that was it. Years of training, and he really wanted to give it all up for a planet that didn’t birth him yet he’d never felt so alive either.

“Zidane?”

Snapping his head up at her voice, he tried to quell the feeling growing more prominent. He didn’t want to worry her; also, he was supposed to be her protector. He couldn’t do this to her now.

“Dagger? Why are you awake?” he asked, keeping his voice level. “We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“I know, but I couldn’t bring myself to sleep.”

He watched Garnet - well, Dagger as her alias had long since come to be - cross over the short blades of grass and settle down beside him, tucking her legs up to her chest. Not the most dignified way for a now Queen to sit, but they weren’t in Alexandria. Hell, why would it matter if they were; the social rules royalty often put upon themselves confused Zidane, but whatever. With her sitting besides him he went back to looking at the moons.

“They’re beautiful tonight… the moons, I mean,” she said softly, combing back several strands of her short brown tresses. Silently, Zidane nodded in agreement. Even before everything had begun, he always thought the night sky looked beautiful with the twin moons, but at the moment, he couldn’t say anything. If anything, the evening felt ominous and he could only focus on the red moon. “... Zidane, what’s wrong? You’ve never been this tense before.”

“Nothing’s wrong… in fact, tomorrow, I’ll have completed my original mission by bringing you to Terra.” It drained him to smile and even risk glancing her way. “After that, who knows? Maybe Garland will let me finish off Kuja. He’s outlived his usefulness I’m sure…!”

He would’ve started laughing, but a small hand resting upon made him pause.

“Zidane… please, what’s going on? You haven’t made cruel jokes like that since Lindblum.”

“... Has it really been that long? I could’ve sworn I made one at Ispen’s Castle.”

Looking Dagger’s way, she shook her head. “No, I remember. You were so angry after Kuja survived Alexandria’s destruction… you were also angered when I couldn’t speak.”

His eyes narrowed. Annoyingly, he did remember that - it had been bad enough things had managed to escalate almost to a point in Kuja’s plan, but Zidane had made Garland aware that Kuja had temporarily acquired the Eidolons (look, he would’ve gotten them back if he hadn’t still had control of the Invincible at the time). What made that time worse was trying to figure out his feelings, but his own truth had come to light. Dagger had been furious and blamed him since he could’ve saved her mother if he’d have stopped Kuja sooner - and that was true. He’d gone to Treno to push his feelings aside, regroup, and would’ve kidnapped her again if Kuja hadn’t chosen that moment to attack with Bahamut. The way she clung to him after he saved her and that younger Summoner, Eiko, things had clicked.

And when Dagger couldn’t speak, that was pretty much that first time he literally couldn’t do anything. In that moment, he truly hated his predecessor and himself - for all he could’ve done, but didn’t do, all because he waited for orders when he could’ve acted himself.

If it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t have realized that.

His eyes drifted away from her. “... Dagger, if you need to fight me, are you ready to do that?”

“... What?”

His mouth thinned.

“When we go to Terra tomorrow, Garland will know I’ve strayed from our goal.” He shook his head. “I won’t be able to protect you anymore once he’s done with me.”

“‘Done with you’? Zidane, what does that mean?” Her hand squeezed his as the fear rose into her tone. “But, bringing me to Terra was your mission. Why would he punish you for that?”

“It’s not for that mission’s failure. I…” Zidane’s voice trailed and he took a moment to breathe. “... I can’t let Garland fuse the planets. If anything, I think it’s time to abandon Terra, but Garland’s will is absolute. He won’t let me live… once he knows I’ve betrayed him too.”

Garland’s will was absolute.

His voice died and silence filled the space between them. Seconds turned to minutes, and in that time, the first thing to change was just how tightly she held his hand. Once several passed before he chanced glancing her way through his bangs. She wasn’t looking his way - her eyes were fixated on the moons, and it was almost beautiful how the moonlight reflected off her silent tears. He didn’t mean to make her cry, but he didn’t know what to say. It was only the truth, and yet, he squeezed her hand back, holding on as much as he could without hurting her.

“You’ve grown, Dagger. I’m sorry I can’t--”

“Don’t…!”

Her sharp and sudden demand silenced him quickly, and he watched as she closed her eyes and tried to fight back more tears. “Please… don’t say you can’t.”

The request left him at a loss of what to say, if he could say anything at all. Honestly, there was nothing he could think of that would comfort her - and lost to his thoughts, the feeling of her lips against his and her tear-stained cheeks pulled him back to reality hard.

Oh…

Their fingers becoming untangled, he brought his hand to rest on her back and draw her in closer, deepening an already desperate and messy kiss.

But that’s what it was, right? She didn’t want to lose him.

He didn’t want to lose her either, but his time was about to run out.

She settled on his lap and he soon fell back. 

He supposed if he had to have one final memory of her, he could accept this one - of her hands bare upon his skin, of his hands drawing in each of her curves, their clothes slowly and steadily being stripped away to leave them bare beneath the moons. He thinks her hands grab and scratch with a little more force than intended, but he knows he’s barely any less and wondering if his hands may remember her better than his mind depending on where he touched. Or maybe he could remember the taste? Of her lips as they kissed again, or of her flesh when he lightly bit her throat and chest and moved downward. Zidane could see her crying still as he stole away that last of her physical innocence, but his eyes hadn’t been dry for a while either.

“I love you…”

She said it first - a lump developed in his throat as they rocked together, no space left between them. He couldn’t say it - he wanted to so badly, but the peak came first.

There beneath the moons with only his cloak draped over both of them, Zidane continued to sit holding the exhausted young woman in his arms and lost to slumber. He couldn’t stop gazing upon her because there was nothing more significant to him and his thumb gently cleaning the marks from her face. She didn’t need to cry over him anymore.

“I love you, too…”

But Garland’s will was absolute.

“... I’m sorry.”

[nyrator]

Mind’s a bit better than previous nights, but just feel like rambling again before bed- Just random thoughts stirring in my head with no one to say them to, I suppose

I think a lot about current events and the tragedies they’ve been creating- and also how twitter is such a terrible platform for my mental health. I don’t really have any power to do anything about it, nor the willpower to avoid it, but it just has me thinking and wishing people were different.

Of course, things I can’t reasonably say to anyone about my thoughts, which is a bit sad to me. All I can do is hope people hate each other less, that’s the only thing that really matters to me.

Been thinking of my sister randomly, what a crazy time that point in my life was. How insane and unpredictable she’d be on heroin and fentanyl, how many times she attacked me and could have murdered me. From nearly blinding me in high school by clawing my face, to trying to stab me with a used syringe when she was filled with all kinds of hepatitis and who knows what else. She’s been gone for six months, and it’s amazing how easy it is to loosen my shoulders and breathe without that paranoia lingering over me that she could murder me at any moment, without all the lies and rumors she’d spread about me to friends and neighbors to spite me, without having to have everything secured beyond locks and locks for fear of it being stolen and sold for drugs, or people breaking into the house looking to get revenge on her.

Yet now I still suffer from anxiety, for other reasons now. But that burden has passed, at least. Lately it’s been feeling like my body has been weakening from anxiety- like it’s trying to fuel itself, but has no energy to. Feels kind of like my blood is just shivering in my veins, vibrating and trying to muster up energy to curl me into an anxious mess, but it’s basically run dry.

I just need to keep it at this level- in the position I’m in now, which is too hard to talk about, I can’t afford to let it boil to a full anxious level. It’s still very uncomfortable, anxiety that’s running on empty, but I just need to endure it. I don’t have any other option for now, and probably not for a long while, unfortunately.

Hoping this virus goes away soon. At the very least, that things are loosened up soon. Going back to work sounds nice. Being able to get my Kuja figure would be really nice. And the border being open would be fantastic- I really wish it were open while work was still closed, so I could just hang out in Canada for six months. It sounds really nice to be with Kresna right now. I don’t think I blog enough about how much he means to me, but he really is my better half.

Also, if people have immigration advice in general, that’d be really appreciated, honestly. We’re in a particularly interesting situation, but hopefully things can figure themselves out some way or another.

On a random note, I really want to try to start reading books again. I wonder if I’m better off just reading them digitally- I’m a purist for the physical format, but I’m too glued to the computer to take the time to read them. Doesn’t help that I have that kind of addictive personality- if I start reading a book, it’s hard to stop. And then afterwards I usually have days of a sore neck and eyes and don’t want to endure it again.

But I have some Murakami books lying around that I still need to read, and I recently got No Longer Human after getting a few recommendations for it. I really want to give that a read. But man, reading is a hard commitment.

Ended up killing time while doing laundry watching some random cartoon I’ve only heard about in passing, and only vary briefly, but somehow decided to just start watching it, and it’s honestly pretty good. Something called Cybersix, watched four episodes tonight.

Also been thinking about video games- I like the idea of them, but I really can’t think of any I’d like to play- especially in a multiplayer sense, since I’m looking for things to play with friends. Nothing really speaks to me or comes to mind- Fortune Street though, what a great game. Same with GX and EDF, honestly. And most games I’m decent at, but never feel the drive to get really good at them, I guess. Cave Story’s one I think of- I enjoy it, but I’ve only beaten Ballos once, and never again. Meanwhile, I have friends who speedrun that Sacred Grounds section, and I don’t think I could ever commit myself to getting that good at something.

Kresna shines in this regard, though- In games we play, he’s the perfect partner for me. He’s highly competent and highly skilled, and he won’t hold back- we can be cutthroat with each other. Say the Switch Mario Party, and how he can just stare someone dead in the eyes as he refuses to high five them after a minigame, solely to not give them an advantage- he gets me. Of course, cutthroat things like that are hard to find a third or fourth player who also enjoys it, but Kresna knows how to pull it off while still having a great time and good bants- without being mean or superior about it, just by making beautiful power plays and having a good time. We’ve been playing MKWii together recently, and he destroys me, but even then it’s great- His item placement is remarkably dirty, and he’s such a good guy to bant with, but it’s one of those games I can’t imagine becoming a challenge to him, which I guess is what prompted this conversation. This is a gush-over-Kresna post, but I realize I don’t really do it often and I don’t state enough publicly how good he is.

But yeah just need to find more games where the games are fun and the playing field is good for other people as well

Got one of my last four art fights started, but I’m scared that I won’t be able to finish them all in time. Latest one basically just needs some coloring, but ended up losing interest in it tonight. I feel I might be able to do commissions confidently now, but drawing things for other people just feels like a chore, honestly. Still need to draw my local friends some characters too like I promised ages ago.

I feel that insatiable urge to talk about Rotten Nyan still, and yet still scared to work on the comic. Or maybe just intimated, I don’t know. I really just want to share it with people, I guess. And Middle Lave I’m especially obsessed with, I just don’t know why. Just want to draw them like I see artists on pixiv draw their characters, y’know? Have an ask blog, a vtuber, something where people can interact with the character and not just me, I think. I worry about people being afraid to get near that character given the connection to me, to treat it like any normal character distanced from me, but it is what it is

I really do wish I had the ambition to work and finish my projects, though. Wish there were better circumstances to inspire me, or something, y’know?

I should stop rambling into space and go to bed, though

[laws-yellow-submarine]

3, 4, 8 for skylar and hazel!!

Ahhhhh ok, I'll do these in 2 sections just so it's easier to read lol also I'll try not to ramble since it'll already be kinda long 😅

Skylar:

3. Does your s/i have a full backstory yet? Or is it still in the works? If it's done can we see it?:

Skylar's backstory is pretty much done (I'm constantly adding/subtracting/moving things around but the core of it stays the same). Basically she's a bisexual disaster whose girlfriend joined the marines as a way to earn some money for them to leave home (very domestic), but her ship was blown to pieces by a pirate crew and she's presumed dead. Meanwhile, Skylar's parents are pretty archaic in their thinking (they run a huge business empire, both legal and on the black market, and their goal has always been to keep it in the family), they're also violently homophobic (and don't believe people can be into more than one gender, so the fact Skylar was in love with a woman is her "choosing" a side in their minds), and there's the implication of a sorta conversion therapy kinda thing that happens in between her girlfriend leaving and the start of the actual story. The week before the story starts it's decided she's been "good" enough to allow some freedom once again, and one day when a certain yellow submarine pulls into the harbor, Skylar makes the snap decision to run away (she's dealt with emotional and physical abuse for a very large chunk of her life, so even though it's not a well thought out plan and could very likely get her killed, she'd rather try to leave than stay under their thumb). She does end up getting caught (of course) and convinces Law she's just an idiot (no bad intentions towards his crew) and he does agree to let her live, but even after getting to the next island she ends up right back on his sub and they bargain for her to work on the sub in exchange for room and board (she thinks it's because nobody else wants to cook, but part of Law's reasoning is she dropped a comment about the black market and "some guy named Joker" that her parents are always talking about, and while she doesn't know who Joker actually is or anything about it, Law's gears are spinning and he figures he can use her for information somehow in the future)

And then shenanigans 😂😂

4. How did your s/i feel when they first met your f/o(s)? How do they feel about them now?

She was terrified of him 😂😂 Skylar absolutely knew who's ship she was sneaking onto but she chose to do it anyway, and he threatened to remove her limbs the first night they met lol but she does grow to care for him pretty quickly. She's a very emotional person, which helps her read emotions in others a lot easier than most, so she can read him really well (which tbh terrifies him and pisses him off for a long time until he stops being a butt about his own feelings lol)

8. Does your s/i have any kind of powers?

Skylar has a so far unnamed devil fruit, but it's kind of a mixture of a few existing ones (i had already come up with hers before I saw them in canon so I tried to make it work so it wasn't the same lol) technically the ability is the ability to manipulate light particles (inspiration from marvel's Invisible Woman ✌). She mostly uses it to camouflage herself/turn invisible, but she eventually learns a sort of force field technique (like the hardened light bridges in portal 2) and that same technique can be used as a way to "fly" in some cases (but it's very draining so she doesn't use it often when she does learn it). She also ate the fruit totally on accident, thinking it was something else, and is really upset that she can't swim anymore, but can't deny it REALLY comes in handy lol

Hazel:

3:

So when I said self-indulgent I meant it lmao she's Luffy's older sister (blood relative), older by 4 years (so older than Ace and Sabo by 1 year. She's the BIG sister lol). Most of her backstory follows the same as Luffy's, though she definitely caused less trouble. She also can't really remember their parents despite being 4 when he was born (it's not too farfetched, especially if they went to Foosha Village when they were that young), but she can remember snippets of Dragon's face, and a voice she thinks is her mother's if she tries hard enough. The biggest thing is that she can remember the first time she saw her baby brother, and how he seemed to be beaming at her even as a newborn, and her "older sibling" instinct immediately set in (the stronger Luffy gets the less he needs her to "protect" him, but she's always going to, and that extends to the other 2 as well later on). Unfortunately this does turn into a sort of maternal instinct for a while, and she has a kind of maturity complex, but after more adults join the crew and tell her "YOU ARE STILL A LITERAL CHILD GO HAVE FUN" she eventually chills out a little lol

4.

Soooo I haven't actually decided who she'd end up with, if anyone, yet lol the thirsty part of me says Law, but I think she'd fit with Nami or even Zoro well too (and unfortunately I think she'd fit really well with Ace as well but that treads into iffy territory that I'm not sure how to navigate yet)

Either way: with Zoro she spends the whole first day with him on the crew apologizing for Luffy's antics (he no longer cares), she's honestly initially suspicious of Nami (nobody wants to hear it though), but now both girls are fiercely protective of each other, with Law he'd just finished patching her up after Marineford, she shouldn't even be moving around yet, and she pulls a knife on him that he better not try anything funny with Luffy (highkey overprotective since he's now her ONLY brother and on the brink of death), but after Luffy recovers she comes to respect him, and at Punk Hazard she's one of the first to trust him with the alliance (though he does make a few quips about her almost stabbing him, which she shrugs off).

She actually got into quite a few fist fights with Ace when they first met for "being mean to Luffy", but with everything that happens with those kids she comes to love him deeply and is devastated by his death (I kinda feel like if anything were to have happened between them it would've been while they were teenagers, mostly due to hormones but the feelings were still real, but they decided not to pursue it further and he left to become a pirate while she stuck around to wait for Luffy, so by the time they're adults it's no longer romantic love? Idk yet lol I started shipping them on accident and now I have to make it work without it being...yikes lol)

8.:

Hazel doesn't have any devil fruit powers, but she does have a robot leg (lost it in Enies Lobby, Franky hooked her up. Complete with knee-pistol and roller blade), and during the time skip she first learns some basic Fishman Karate from Jinbei before he goes back to Fishman Island, and then she trains with Hancock and the Kuja Pirates (which only happens as a favor to Luffy, and even then ONLY because she's his sister and therefore not a rival lmao)

[its-ness-ness]

Final Fantasy Games in One Timeline: Some Thoughts

Hi, my name’s Nessa, I have no social life, and I’ve been working on the above theory for going on two years now. I’ve seen some theories on some Final Fantasy games taking place in similar timelines, and a few even being on the same timeline. BUT if you’re interested in an attempt at squashing all of the mainstream games into just one (1) timeline, some handwritten folklore, and too many characters to keep track of, then come on in. These are the bare basics for now, because I haven’t gone in-depth with all of the games yet, and this is the first time I’ve put this theory out there. I openly welcome any critiques and comments you may throw my way! 

If you’re interested, here’s what I’ve thrown together:

IN GENERAL:

Though this is one cohesive timeline, I don’t have any exact dates to put on things. Whether it’s one hundred or ten years between games, I believe, depends on how far you’re willing to suspend your disbelief. (I mean, look at our own advances from the 1920s to the 1950s - completely different fashion, atmospheres, and developments.) That being said, this timeline does rely on the fact that the games would be close enough together to have their stories, ideas, and lessons passed on to the next game. How long that takes, though, is up to you. 

For everyone following along at home, we’re going to go in this order - 

1 / 5 / 3 / 2 / 4 / 9 / 12 / 6 / 15 / 13 / 10 / 7 / 8

Let’s start, then, beginning with:

FINAL FANTASY I (1):

How could we start this timeline with anything else? Of course, this game exists in our timeline here as more of a legend and creation myth than anything real. This is the basis for our world, whether it really happened or not, and in some parts of this world, I like to believe that the unnamed Warriors of Light may have even been worshipped as god-like figures.

V (5)

5 is, at least for me, where this timeline really starts. From what I gathered, 5 has more open space, uninhabited, and quite a bit of monster and nature-made ruin. Only the barest civilization would allow for this. The clothing and atmosphere both stay strictly fantasy, and as a result there isn’t much actual technology in the world yet. The job class system reflects a world relying on people and their natural skills; a place just beginning. Thus, this is where our world starts out.

III (3)

Like 5 before it, 3 holds a lot of the same fantasy elements, but we start experimenting with great technology and use of magic. The world has become a touch less wild, so to speak, and those rural fantasy elements have grown into patches of true civilization here and there. These people have seen evil defeated once before, and they’re stronger because of it.

II (2)

Our fantasy world has developed corruption, folks, and these comfortable palace landscapes now foster a rebellion. We’re starting to armor up our characters with more than just a tunic and a dream, and Firion and his friends have past heroes to look up to and inspire hope from. We see more refined magic use and more airships and metal works in this game. The kingdoms established have had time to prosper, and those in the rebellion have had time to form a secret coalition together against the Emperor.  (It should be noted that these first three games I know much less than those to follow, and may be swapped around in later drafts. For now, though, I feel like these fit nicely where they stand currently.)

IV (4)

We’ve hit advanced-fantasy in terms of aesthetic with this one. 4 holds much more tech than its predecessors, and we have boats, ships, and gliders. The crystals worshipped in past games’ lore still remain important to the story. Communication has advanced as well, and we see the first beginnings of other races - most notably, the Lunarians and the Gnomes underground. Those separate civilizations have had time to prosper over the past 3 games, and are now joining the narrative. This game uses advanced magic, and mages and summoners have been able to let their own cities prosper as well. We see more and more kingdoms and larger towns popping up than in previous games, and the world is doing well.

IX (9)

More steampunk technology is entering the picture now. While we remain high-fantasy, airship use has peaked, along with other daily mechanisms. The summoners from the last game are the same civilization that produced Garnet and Eiko, and the Lunarians from 4 are the ones who, upon going to sleep, built Garland to create their vessels - and, therefore, Kuja and Zidane. More animal species are developing in this game, as seen in most cities, and though the kingdoms are much, much larger than in 4, there are still parts of the world left untouched. Something about this fantasy still feels very rustic in comparison to the technology that will come later in this timeline, but most of what 9 presents feels very new in its own world. They have reached their peak development at their present state, and are still producing more and more. Magic use has disappeared from the public and become exclusive to summoners and the mages made by Kuja.

XII (12)

We’ve continued along the steampunk technology route, but we’ve gotten a little more urban now. Kingdoms are crowded enough to show the slums and underground cities that are a part of them now. We continue seeing different animal races in the present day, though they are less common and don’t receive the same rights and privileges as humans do, due to the royalty growing distinctly corrupt. Major magic use is no longer possible, though some simple spells are known exclusively on the battlefield. It’s not impossible to imagine that the royalty may in fact crack down on magicks sellers, in the way that witches were burned at the stake in our own time. Vayne, possibly loosely related to Alexandrian royalty, has the genetic potential to become a summoner, the power lost to most people in this time as the summoners are all but extinct. After the undoubtedly bad rep they gained by Kuja’s destructive magic use, they vanished into the separate world of the summons as a matter of safety. It’s this knowledge that he is so close to doing so and yet cannot that drives him near-mad with want in his drive for power.

VI (6)

High fantasy has now become cyberpunk, everyone. Technology went through the rough since the last game’s plot, and while we still feel very fantasy, we’re also starting to see more of that urban development in the kingdom areas. Magic is used only by the government and military (see: Celes and Terra both have good hands in magic versus the rest of the party), and summoners and their summons exist on the separate plane Terra comes from. Street rats and everyday people are the heroes of this installment, as in the last one, and the not-so-reformed royalty from last game have dipped more into forbidden science and forcibly enslaving soldiers. (That’ll come more into play later.) Vaan and Balthier partner up and initially form The Returners, which develops over time from sky pirate gang to resistance coalition. For one of the first times, we see a villain rise from a regular citizen who gained true god-like powers that the people of this world had never touched before. True destruction is tasted for the first time, but this is quickly remedied when things are set right.

XV (15)

Technology has developed and become more up-to-date here. Royalty still exists, but everything has become more smooth, refined, and modern. Upon Terra’s death, she sent a handful of summons to guard the world in her absence, thus creating the presence of the Six main summons in-game. She would go on to pass her secrets to one select person, an Oracle, who would hand that knowledge down over time and possess the secret to harnessing those summons, should the world ever need it. Hey, corrupt military government, good to see you’re still around, too. (That won’t go away for a while, trust me.) Magic use is still held only by royalty and the military here, and not in public life.

XIII (13)

After the death of the party from 15, Gareth Dysley enters the picture as a corrupt minister. The PSIICOM and Sanctum Guards are created, and the world develops from there. Technology gets more futuristic than ever before. We see government corruption taken to the highest degree. Fal’cie are mistaken for familiars of the original Six summons, and that’s why the public trusts them so much. (Here’s where things get a little strange, because I still have to revisit 13 and wrap my head around the events here. FOR NOW, the world we’ve been living on this entire timeline is Cocoon. Pulse is a separate planet in orbit that becomes victimized, rather than moving everyone from world one to another artificial planet. This may be subject to change.)  

X (10)

That whole the-government-lies thing sticks around to this fantasy. Zanarkand is the first city created by Cocoon citizens on Pulse, but is quickly destroyed by the emergence of Sin, a bitter creation by the dying Fal’cie (the false, artificial summons, if you will) in an attempt to exact revenge, and still produce the death count desired in 13 to see their initial Maker. The true summons, those present from the beginning and granted to the Oracle by Terra, still exist in the other plane of summons, and wait to be called upon by summoners. These summoners are trained by the church of Yevon in order to seemingly destroy Sin, though they themselves do not know the answer to its defeat. Since this game consists of civilization starting anew, we see less of the destroyed technology, and instead a fresh, mystical fantasy story as we begin again on Pulse, rather than the timeline on Cocoon above. When the pillar breaks and Cocoon finally crashes into Pulse, the Calm Lands are created.

VII (7)

The world re-adopts technology after the fall of Yevon, and advances much more quickly than they had before. They already have the tools and power available, and refine that now that people are allowed to develop. We spring into a second urban fantasy, which flourishes after the Shinra corporation develops a way to tap into the Farplane (now called the Lifestream, as harnessing it has put it in motion versus its stagnant state before.) For protection, SOLDIER is created based on renewed ideals of the Magitek Knights in 6, though the recklessly-tapping-into-science thing comes back to bite them in the ass. This game’s small, sleepy cities are the first rustic results of villages coming back together after the events of 10.

VIII (8)

Science has now gone through the roof. Esthar is the hub of futuristic science and technology, and the evidence of that is everywhere. Modern cars and trains are back, and magic use is allowed by SeeD students in a draw system (a more accessible update to the materia system used prior). Summons are technologically copied to allow all students access to their powers, though what happened to the origin of these powers is currently unknown. The cost of this copying system was that the summons (GFs) needed a way to root themselves to existence - thus tampering with student’s memories in an effort to plant themselves there. SeeD is a revamped SOLDIER program, and many towns in this game bear resemblances to towns in the last game. Time and space are now on the forefront of technology, and magic has taken a step back (in terms of relevance) in comparison. The heroes here pave the way for a brighter future, as this world advances, learns more, and betters itself.

And those are the basics!

I have plenty more revolving around the above timeline - how it’s connected, who goes where and does what, and the way that things develop. Should anyone be interested in more, I’d be more than happy to elaborate! 

[nyrator]

been feeling like venting, so just some random vents- then afterwards, JSRF ramblings because I just beat that game

turning 29 at the end of the week, not looking forward to it- turning 30 next year terrifies me

mother’s funeral was friday, got that out of the way relatively painlessly (other than having to spend an extra 800 dollars just to bury my sister with her, about $4500 by the end of it

gofundme raised about $2000, other donations about $1300 last I counted (probably higher), so most of it was covered

yesterday my mother’s 70 year old best friend held a party at a bar for my mother’s friends and I was obligated to go, bunch of crazy old women talking like sailors, drinking and smoking pot and laughing about all the drugs they did and all the times they got raped (yeahhhh), the only person I was comfortable around was the best friend. And then the party ends two hours late, we’re getting kicked out of the bar, and this friend falls bending down to grab a picture of my mother that she dropped, smashes her face into the floor, and collapses with a pool of blood under her face, unmoving, right in front of me. I couldn’t get the words out that I’d go and pick the photo up for her before she went to get it, and I regret it

Thankfully, she only had a concussion and a broken nose, she started responding after about a minute of just lying there, but it messed me up, I think.

I’ve been debating if I want to start drinking. I never tried before, mainly because my father was an abusive and violent alcoholic. The other reason is because I’m afraid what I’d do to myself if I had no inhibitions in place, I feel like I’d be very dangerous to myself.

neck has been stiff for two days. Probably slept on it wrong. Also keep feeling like I get different symptoms of covid every so often after exposing myself to the public (that bar was packed with old people who wouldn’t wear masks and had no concept of personal space). Today my throat’s been sore and I can barely breathe.

my boss told me I can go back to work as soon as the funeral’s finished- not sure if I should call her to remind her or wait for her to call me, she texted me last week and I told her the funeral was on friday. But my coworker was also wondering and asked me today, and I didn’t know what to tell her, since my boss doesn’t want me to let her know just yet because of how limited they’re open (three days a week, four hours a day)

relationships are very hard

I’m a terrible person who does the bare minimum to help someone who’s terribly lonely and depressed, and it’s like I’m backed into a corner in desperation from being unable to do anything about it. I’ve caused so much harm to this relationship that I wonder if there’s any way it can survive sometimes

It’s always the case, though- I can’t get myself to do more than the minimum effort it takes, and my social anxiety prevents me from ever initiating anything, which has cost me so many people that I shouldn’t be surprised at this point. And I can feel that awful, selfish bitterness inside of me, that part of my father and my sister that’s in me that I try to suppress, and I hate it.

my diet is going well enough, lost over five pounds since starting it late August. But it’s mostly because I just dislike eating, so eating in portions is easier for me. And then there are days like today, where I just don’t eat at all. Just ate one slice of bread, 30g of peanut butter, and a small cup of ice cream today, and I don’t even feel hungry. Normally I try to get some food in me, but today I’m just too disgusted to even try to make dinner.

My sleep’s also been weird, still. Been going to bed later and later again, but can’t stay asleep. Usually only sleep in bouts of 3-4 hours, then just lay awake until I’m half asleep long enough that I feel the urge to give up and get up. It’s been like that for weeks now, I can’t remember the last full night of sleep I’ve gotten.

In lighter news, finally got back to playing JSRF. Beat it the other night after 24.5 hours of game time, just have a few more challenges left (did everything from Dogenzaka Hill to the Bottom of the Sewage Facility so far), got all graffiti and souls possible before beating the final boss. Played it via emulator (which worked great except for crashing when entering the graffiti selection occasionally) with a Switch Pro Controller, felt really good. I own it and the original Xbox for it, but just am spoiled by a PC experience, I suppose.

The gameplay is great, but the level design leaves a funny taste in my mouth. Aesthetics are worse than JSR for me, while music... it’s tough to say, it’s different than JSR, but really grew on me. Sometimes it felt more like noise (I remember the Sewage tracklist not speaking to me too much at first with the more ambient-ish tracks), but it did grow on me a lot. Baby-T was my Garage theme the entire game, such a great track.

Naganuma’s music in the first game was definitely the weakest of the original’s OST (still good of course), but in Future I feel he really stepped up his game. Teknopathetic is one of my favorite songs in the new OST.

speaking of favorite music, here’s mine from each game:

Bout the City

Dragula

Magical Girl

Miller Ball Breakers

Mischievous Boy

On the Bowl (A.Fargus Mix)

Rock It On

Super Brothers

Yellow Bream

Aisle 10

Baby-T

Birthday Cake

Count Latchula

I'm Not a Model

Like It Like This Like That

Rockin' the Mic

Statement of Intent

Teknopathetic

The Scrappy

(shout outs to Girls from the one JSR CD, haven’t listened to much of the other exclusive songs to it, but Girls was good)

but yeah, my minor gripes with Future

Linear level design was a bit painful (missing a jump and not being able to backtrack a lot was bleh), and the later levels were very painful (the sewage area and the rooftops are come to mind, skyscraper to a lesser extent but I liked the skyscraper one a bit more), but at the same time, they force you to get good, which I can appreciate, so hm. Still, a checkpoint system (especially since there are save points) or unlocking shortcuts would be a bit more convenient, if not entirely necessary.

Not having a way to stop auto-grinding, even if just holding down a trigger or something- the way I latched onto rails especially in the sewage area was painful

Points challenges mainly being “find the special points rail and just spamming Y” on it was a bit odd (mainly for the Jet Techs so far, just five minutes of spamming Y...), but I like how the combos feel in this game, especially X combos to speed up. Has a rhythm that’s hard to explain but just feels natural.

Also street challenges should’ve been explained better in general, had to look up most of the special ones (and glitched out the Shibuya Terminal one many times until realizing the fix was just “hop all over each platform multiple times and hope it counts”, the second one next to the tilted platform specifically for me

Mew/Bis/Rhyth’s redesign still hurts, but you better believe she’s the character I used throughout the entire game after unlocking her

Storywise, I think I like JSR’s take better- Professor K being a neutral party and more amusing/less insulting, Onishima > Hayashi, and the character designs and artstyle I overall prefer from the first game

Felt like it tried to add things that just didn’t really work sometimes (Death Ball comes to mind, though I haven’t messed with Versus yet, the story mission was very easy compared to how they hyped it up), and the boss battles were all... strange. Tagging enemies on that roller coaster level, having to grind up to that one Hayashi boss fight over and over and over, then even moreso for the final boss... never got much use out of targeting enemies, spinning circles around them, or things like the railgrab for high jumps or skidding to slow down for graffiti, either, but maybe they have their uses.

But man, the game did feel fun to play, just frustrating to explore, I think. I still like the idea of making Skatered, even more after playing this game. Maybe I could learn modding, or something...

Oh yeah, also got all the pieces of my costume together (minus some eva foam), we’ll see how that goes. Not looking forward to assembling it, honestly, but I can’t back out now. Main regret I think is the tights, being unable to find striped ones (and the solid ones I bought being a bit too see-through, I should’ve bought a size up maybe). Still not confident enough in my makeup abilities, either.

and one last bit of light news- I finally got my Kuja figure, he’s so beautiful and detailed and I need a good place to put him