#I had a skill check pop up in the Knight match and I just did not hit Space

[moisette]

I keep getting Distortion here and there and rarely does a Killer get aura-reading. He got lucky with BBQ but Distortion blocked it. I kept wanting him to chase me because doing gens is boring and I wanted to see if Quick Gambit did anything noticeable.

I didn't want to open the gate immediately but I didn't want to not open it. Bond would tell me Sable is coming so open the gate. I heard her, though. So I opened it.

Medkits. Really?

I had to try. I mean I didn't HAVE to but I don't feel right being like "THANKS FOR SAVING ME, SABLE! BYE!" I also forgot I had Shoulder the Burden... I was like "I'm going to use it smarter this match >8u" and fucking forgot about it... I would have taken a hook state for Vittorio and Yui ;~;

Holy shit he was unfortunate that I still had OtR. I actually thought it ran out but I tanked the hit xD;

I was last hook and I opened the gate but I did not leave. I wanted to help Ripley if she came to the gate. Since I don't have BOND I had to guess that she was either being chased towards the gate and I could take a hit or she was with Sable at the other gate. I'm assuming she doesn't know this map well and didn't know where the other gate was? Or maybe she thought Sable and I were at the same gate?

I thought for sure he saw me xD; This is why I don't like running around and touching the first gen I see at the start of the match. I feel like it's safer to just relocate and not leave a trail leading to you.

[ahoysteviex]

18+ Conduit x Rampart

Hello! Here's a commission that I recently finished for your reading pleasure. Summary: Rowenna and Ramya fuck nasty in the locker room showers after a match. Top!Ramya and Bottom!Rowenna. 2.2k words. If you like what you read, you can commission me by DMing me! And if you'd like to tip me, you can do so here! Please support your local homeless author. <3

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were hiding from me,” her girlfriend’s voice sounds from behind her, as teasing as ever.

Rowenna smiles, amused. She almost turns from her locker to greet her girlfriend, but Ramya’s arms encircle her waist before she gets the chance. She only smiles wider, her own arms wrapping around the modder’s.

“Then it’s a good thing you know better,” she quips, leaning back against Ramya’s body and breathing in deeply, contentedly. There’s still a buzz beneath her skin from their recent match; a built up storage of energy that’s waiting to be released. “Not that I’m opposed to a game of cat and mouse. But no, not hiding. Just need a shower after that game. They call it ‘sweating’ for a reason.”

“And yet you make it look so effortless when you save my life.”

The modder pulls one of her arms away and Rowenna almost whines at the loss. Luckily for her, her partner doesn’t step away, only reaches up to push her short hair away from her neck. Even luckier, she starts pressing her lips to that soft, sensitive spot below her ear that always makes her shiver when it’s touched.

“I did save your life, didn’t I?” she asks, trying her best to maintain her confident, prideful tone despite her newfound breathlessness at the kisses being placed upon her skin. “It’s an honor, Ms. Parekh. Though, I do have to say, you’d think with all the time you spend with Witt that you’d be able to tell him apart from his decoys.”

“Ugh, with the bloody decoys!” Ramya says, exasperated, cueing a laugh from the woman in her arms. “I almost had him, too!”

“Almost. But your incredible, talented, amazing girlfriend had to swoop in and save the day instead!”

“That she did. Seeing you all guns-blazing as my knight in shining EVO armor was worth all the boasting I’m gonna get from Witt later. Especially since you were using the Rampage. You really know the way to a girl’s heart.”

“And you really know how to design a gun,” Rowenna counters. Finally, she turns in Ramya’s arms to face her, her heart fluttering quickly in her chest at the sight of the woman she loves.

Ramya wastes no time in pressing their lips together, clearly spurred on by the reliving of the match and the compliment to her skills. Immediately, Rowenna is pulled in, passion swelling within her as she lifts her hands to cusp her girlfriend’s face as they kiss. She can feel Ramya’s hands slip beneath her shirt and run up her sides, prompting goosebumps to pop up along her soft skin.

“If I recall correctly,” she begins once there’s enough of a break to speak. She’s breathless from the heat of their kiss. “You repaid the favor by saving me in the next fight.”

“You're lucky,” Ramya chides playfully, lightly kissing and biting along Rowenna’s neck and clavicle. “Maggie woulda torn you a new one. You really need to watch your six.”

“Why should I when I have you to watch it for me?”

Rowenna gasps as her girlfriend goes to lift her shirt up, her head swiveling to check the room, ensuring no one else had entered since they started talking.

“Someone could walk in, Ramya!” she scolds in a whisper. Regardless, there's a mischievous smile on her face. The thrill of the risk is tempting and she can't imagine forcing herself to wait to have her fill of the other woman.

Ramya clicks her tongue before she laughs and shakes her head in a way that tells Rowenna that her partner isn't buying her act.

“I appreciate your attempt at modesty, but ya can’t fool me, Ro.”

The other Legend pulls away and goes to her own locker, quickly pulling a bag from within and shutting it once more. Rowenna follows suit by shutting her locker, then trails after Ramya as she heads toward the showers.

They're both still sweaty from the match; eager to shed their clothes and get under the spray of the shower water – even more so to get their hands on each other. It's about more than just the physical appreciation when they're intimate after a game. It's more like rewarding each other for a job well done, showing their admiration for one another. After all, what better way to express the sentiment that you think your girlfriend is hot when she's spraying bullets at your mutual enemies? Especially if she manages to pull off a clutch play and save your life while doing so.

It doesn't take long for Rowenna to step into the shower stall and turn the water on, adjusting it until it's just on the edge of being too hot. She wets her hair and face, then turns when the stall door opens.

Ramya is a dream with her hair down. The dark brown locks frame her face in a way that makes her look almost sophisticated. She's taken her bindi off and no matter how many times Rowenna sees her without it, she always thinks Ramya’s face looks naked without the teal dot sitting between her thick eyebrows.

“Are you gonna use that on me, or are you just gonna stand there showing it off?” the older Legend asks playfully, her brown eyes flickering down to the strap nestled between her girlfriend's legs. It's impressive; a work that Ramya designed and built herself. Because of course she did.

“Just appreciating the view first, Divina,” Ramya says as she approaches. She shuts the door behind herself without taking her eyes off her lover. “You look so good after a match, especially the ones where you have to sweat. Can you blame me for wanting to soak it in?”

The modder grabs her hips and pulls her close, head dipping down to take one perky breast into her mouth. A soft gasp leaves her at the feeling, her head falling back to rest against the shower wall. Ramya’s mouth is warm, her tongue wet and soft against the sensitive bud and it only serves to make Rowenna all the more impatient.

So impatient, in fact, that she grabs Ramya’s face in her hands and pulls her up, pressing their lips together in a kiss that's more heated than the last. She pushes their lips together eagerly, and doesn't waste time before swirling her own tongue around her partner's in a dance that they both know well by now.

And luckily, Ramya doesn't tease. Instead, she bends to hook her arms under Rowenna’s legs, then lifts her up, pressing her back into the shower wall. She’s strong, of course she is. Whatever Rowenna weighs, it's definitely much less than Sheila and Ramya manages to run while carrying the damn minigun. For miles, at that.

The blunt tip of the strap presses hot against Rowenna’s core, just barely breaching her entrance. What was that she’d thought about not teasing? How naive.

“Ram,” she whines, impatient. It makes Ramya chuckle under her breath, too amused by Rowenna’s suffering.

“What?” the modder asks innocently, as if she doesn't know what could possibly have her girlfriend all desperate and pouty. Her hair is wet and sticking to her cheeks, so dark that it looks black.

“Oh, come on! You owe me!”

“Oh? Do I?”

Wrong thing to say. Now she's smirking and proud, like she just won the lottery.

“Ram, please!”

“Please what?”

“Just fuck me! We can go back and forth about the specifics later!”

Rowenna is rolling her hips down, trying desperately to shove more of the length into herself. It's pointless though, Ramya’s holding her steadily in place. Her arms are strong, her muscles flexing, and the water running over them is only aiding the visual.

“Aww, well… if you insist,” she gives in reluctantly. “You're lucky I'm feeling nice today, love”

“More like you just can't wait either.”

Ramya chuckles one last time before leaning forward and pressing another hot kiss to her partner's lips.

“You got me.”

Finally, the waiting is over, and Ramya presses forward, sinking the toy deep into her girlfriend’s eagerly awaiting opening. The sound that pours from her is one full of relief. After the build up – the fights, the near-deaths, the saves, and then Ramya’s teasing at the end of it all – she thinks being filled up has never felt so good.

Ramya must feel the same way, because she doesn't drag it out. She doesn't sit still once she bottoms out, waiting for Rowenna to pout and beg again like she usually does. Instead, she pulls her hips back, sliding out nearly all the way before quickly pushing back in. Steadily, she builds a rhythm that has the older Legend panting, her legs trembling.

Rowenna’s glad she doesn't need her legs right now, because they're as good as useless.

“Don't stop. Please don't stop,” she begs wantonly. 

The girth of the toy filling her is simultaneously overwhelmingly satisfying and yet not enough. Her walls hug the material tightly, pulsing, trying to keep it inside her because being empty feels like torture.

Ramya leans down to press her tongue against Rowenna’s left nipple, then sucks the bud into her mouth.

She's lost track of the sounds coming out of her own mouth, whether she's moaning or rambling senselessly is anyone's guess anymore. Somewhere within the babbling, though, she must say something about being close, because her girlfriend's efforts increase.

Hot, open-mouthed kisses are pressed against her neck and collarbones. Rowenna reaches up to pull Ramya’s face to hers, their mouths locking in a messy,  passionate kiss as they chase her climax.

“You're so gorgeous like this, Ro,” Ramya pants, her voice low.

The modder’s eyelashes are dark and stuck together, water droplets decorating her sharp cheeks. There's a severe look in her eyes that feeds something deep within her lover, something hungry. If Rowenna had the capability to string together more than three words, she'd return the compliment.

“I'm gonna-” Rowenna warns, or maybe begs, she's unsure.

Either way, one of her girlfriend's hands moves from her leg, instead traveling quickly to that spot between her legs. Deft, experienced fingers are pressed against her clit, rubbing in those perfect circles that sends shivers through her whole body.

She almost wishes she could hold it back. If she could just enjoy this bit for a little longer…

But no, the heat building in her stomach and emanating from her core is ecstasy and she can't quell the throbbing of her cunt as she falls deep into her orgasm. Her back arches against the shower wall, her legs quiver and tighten their hold around Ramya’s hips. Her girlfriend maintains her momentum as well as she can as she's hugged closely, leaning in to bite at Rowenna’s exposed neck. Her own hips are grinding downward as much as they can in her position, unable to stay still as her climax rips through her.

“Fuck- Oh my god…” she gasps, voice high as the last tendrils of it slip away. She's breathing heavy, her chest rising and falling with each quick breath as she attempts to recover.

“That good, yeah?” Ramya asks, cocky as ever. Rowenna wants to pretend to be annoyed, but she can't, not after all that.

“Don’t act surprised,” she settles instead. Ramya only chuckles.

“Think you can stand?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You make it so hard to stay humble.”

So Ramya holds her there against the wall until she feels she can trust her legs again. When she does, she pulls out slowly before setting her down and Rowenna winces at the loss.

The rest of the shower is sweet. They wash each other’s hair, their backs. They exchange kisses at every opportunity and teasing quips just as often.

“So,” Ramya begins as they're drying off. “What's the score then?”

“We're even,” Rowenna replies easily.

“Is that so?” The younger Legend raises one dark eyebrow, a mischievous smirk on her face.

“I saved you from Witt, you saved me from Mags.” Try as she might, she can't remember another instance in the recent game that would tip the scale in Ramya’s favor.

“You're forgetting that fight right at the beginning! Blasey nearly got the jump on you when you were too busy digging around for shield cells,” Ramya reminds her oh-so-politely, her hands gesturing as she speaks.

Rowenna pouts because now that she's been reminded, she knows Ramya is right.

“I boosted your shields though! Doesn't that count for something?”

“Ah, you’re so right. It does,”  she relents, taking the towel from her damp hair, Ramya smirks once more, amused. “And you gave me shield cells for my Sentinel. I guess that's two points against me.”

“What?” Rowenna asks, blushing and laughing lightly. “You're being awfully generous.”

“On the contrary. I'm being very selfish. I'm just looking for more excuses to fuck you.”

“As if you need one,” Rowanna replies, her smile widening.

She knows where Ramya is coming from, though. The back and forth, the IOUs, it's all so much fun. Whether they're on the same team or not. Every game has that much more at stake when it could mean getting fucked like that in the locker room showers. And hell, maybe one of these days they won't even be able to wait until the end of the match.

Now wouldn't that be fun?

[championrevali]

You said you were looking for writing prompts so how about a reverse AU type of thing where Prince Link enters a Rito archery competition disguised as a Rito (in a rito mask because the King doesn't want him fighting or competing so he does it in secret) and beats Revali (by one point) before disappearing. Now Revali is obsessed with finding out the identity of the Rito who beat him because he may or may not want to settle the score (ie court him.)

Oml I love this so much. I kinda deviated from the og idea a little bit just to work with what was going on in my head. I hope it’s okay. Also thank you to my Revalink discord friends for helping me some ideas for how to link (hehe, link) scenes, i was mega stuck for a hot minute.

I decided to split this into two parts.

(low key should I put this on Ao3?)

Italics is sign language

Word count: 1595

Ship: Revalink, Revali/Link

"Are you sure this will work?" Link asked, surveying the merchants many elixirs.

"Positive! I've tested them me'self. That elixir there will turn you into a Rito. Twenty four hours guaranteed."

Nodding, Link dropped a bag of rupees onto the counter. "I'll take five."

The merchant grinned, inspecting his new riches. "Pleasure doing business with you young man."

Link pocketed the elixirs, and hopped up onto his rented horse. The steed pulled against the reigns willfully, and Link wished Epona wasn't as recognizable as she was.

It wasnt hard to miss his royal steed, and if he had brought her he would be caught for sure.

No, he couldn't be caught. He needed to know whether his nightly training was worth it. He needed to know if he could beat the greatest archers in Hyrule.

~~

Seeing the tall rocky formation from the stable was a great relief to the prince, as the long ride had tired him out. He dropped his horse off, and walked to a nearby pond. He squeezed his eyes shut and drank the elixir.

He probably shouldnt have been as shocked as he was when he looked at his reflection. Golden feathers speckled with light blue covered his whole body. Lifting his hand- or his wing to his light blue beak, he opened and closed his mouth in amazement.

Backing away from the pond, he stumbled a bit on his taloned feet. "How do Ritos walk like this?" Link thought, as he started his way to the village.

~~

The older inspected the small boy up and down. "You're quite small to he in an archery competition... are you sure you can even pull back the string?"

Links feathers puffed up, embarrassed. "Yes I can..."

The Rito laughed. "Whatever you sat kid... What's your name?"

"Link." He said without thinking.

"Ah... same name as the pretty boy prince of Hyrule huh? Not exactly a common name is it?"

Link hesitated. "Right.".

The Rito waved him past the check in, towards the range. "Good luck."

Sighing, releaved, Link went over to pick out a bow. The range supplied bows so that no ones would have an opportunity to cheat.

"These are worthless pieces of crap" a voice announced near Link.

Turning to see who had spoken, Link saw a dark blue Rito, inspecting the bows.

"My bow is far superior to any of these... used bows..." the words dripped from the dark blue Rito's mouth as if he was talking about some muck on the bottom of his shoe.

"Isn't that the point though? That we all have the same quality bows?" Link inquired, curious as to why this Rito found used bows so repulsive.

"Tsk, and I suppose you also believe that it's not about winning it's about having fun." Sarcasm leaked from every word.

Link flushed, choosing to just pick up a bow and walk away. As he walked away he could feel the blue feathered Ritos eyes burning a hole in his back.

~~

Link lined up with the other Rito, feeling utterly dwarfed by their height. He somehow kept his julian height, and was at least a head shorter than most others around him.

The blue Rito he'd ran into before was a few spaces away from him, also looking quite short next to his competitors.

The older Rito he'd talked to earlier stepped in front of the lineup. "The rules are simple. Furthest away from the target is eliminated. Missing the target is automatic disqualification, as is cheating. Good luck."

Taking a deep breath, Link adjusted his stance. This would be where he found out whether all of his training in secret was worth it.

Adjusting his stance, Link lifted the bow. It was heavier than he was used to, but his feathers seemed better adjusted to hold the weight. He pulled back the string, and let the arrow fly.

His arrow slammed in the second outer circle. Link smiled, proud that he was still in the competition.

"Tsk." Link heard to the left of him. That Rito he'd talked to earlier was looking at his target with distaste.

He had hit in the center circle, closer to a bullseye than any of the other targets. Yet he looks disappointed.

"Oh c'mon Revali, you'll get it next time." Teased the Rito next to him.

Link looked away, this Rito was too cocky for Link's taste. He nocked an arrow, preparing for the next round.

~~

Round after round passed, Link becoming more and more comfortable with each arrow.

At last, he and one final Rito, Revali, were the only two left standing. The Rito shot him an overexaggerated, unimpressed look.

"Well I suppose we should just pack it up now... I can't imagine this will be too difficult."

Link clenched his jaw in annoyance.

"Nothing to say oh short one? Very well then." Revali turned back towards the target, tugging on the bow string lightly.

Link shook his head, turning back to the targets as well. He wouldn't let this overconfident Rito ruin this. He took a deep breath, pulling back the string.

Thunk

The echo of an arrow slamming into a tree. But it wasn't Link's arrow.

Revali was staring in shock at his arrow, stuck firmly in a tree a few feet away from his target. Link's own arrow was planted less than an inch from the center.

He had won.

"No! That was a mistake, I demand a redo!" Revali insisted, feathers fluffed up in annoyance. It might have looked cute if Link didn't know it was him the Rito was angry at.

"Revali you missed... meaning you lose... just accept it." A Ritos voice popped up from the side.

Shooting a glare that could kill, Revali slammed the bow back into the stand, and took off in the direction of the village. 

After a moment of awkward silence, Link was crowded in a large mass of Rito congratulating him. He tensed, not used to having to being so crowded. Life in the castle was mostly him doing his duty of preparing to be king someday. His assigned knight and best friend Zelda and his father were the only company he was used to having.

~~

Revali POV

Landing in the flight range, Revali cursed under his breath. "Those ridiculous bows... they're not the right adjustments... it's their fault."

He supposed the small Rito was a good opponent. Certainly was interesting compared to the usual supposed competition he crushed.

The way he held the bow was interesting as well, it resembled the bow hold of a Hylian. Perhaps he grew up near a Hylian settlement. Though that was highly unlikely. Not many Rito strayed from the village that they grew up in. Many would leave the roost and travel for a few years, but they most always returned to the village to let their family grow. 

Revali smiled as an idea came over him. “Perhaps I could convince him to a rematch. Certainly he wouldn’t want anyone questioning the legitimacy of his win.”

Climbing into his hammock, Revali was satisfied that this would solidify his win, and prove that he was still the greatest archer the Rito had ever seen.

~~

The village the next morning was buzzing with news that the great Revali had finally met his match. It took everything in him not to stop and tell the gossipers the truth, that the yellow Rito’s win was nothing but a fluke on the fault of his bow. 

He took a deep breath and steeled himself. Find the Rito first, then prove that it was a mistake. 

“Would you happen to know where that Rito would be? I would like to apologize for my outburst yesterday.” Revali lied through his beak.

“You just missed him.” The gossiper said, looking at him with- Oh dear Hylia that better not be pity he saw in her face. “The lad checked out of the inn not an hour ago, walked in the direction of the stable.”

Nodding, the blue Rito climbed up to one of the landing decks, and flew in the direction of the stable. Surely he would be able to catch his competitor before he got too far away. After all, not all birds had his gale. 

~~

Revali was frustrated. Not only was his competitor not at the stable. But no one had actually seen him leave the stable. The only thing to go by was that apparently his name was Link.

The last sighting of him was when he arrived at the Rito stable, yet no one had seen him leave.

Eventually Revali gave up. Moved on, he claimed. If anyone asked, he would deny that thoughts of the mysterious archer graced his thoughts every day.

And it was definitely because revali was angry about his mess up, not because he wanted to know how soft the others feathers were. It definitely wasn't because he was attractive. No, definitely not.

Shakes head head, Revali turned over in his hammock. It did no good to lose sleep over someone hed never see again.

But here he was, the day before he was to depart for Hyrule castle, thinking about that elusive Rito.

As the winner of first place seemed to be long gone, Revali was supposed to show off his skills to the royalty in Hyrule castle for winning second place. Perhaps king would be impressed and offer him a place in the castle.

Who was he kidding, of course the king would be impressed, he was the great Revali after all.

~~

Cont. In part 2!

If yall enjoyed this and wanna be tagged for part 2, lemme know in the comments.

Thank you for this prompt kasaru_chan! I had so much fun writing it, sorry again that it took so long

~~

@kasaru-chan @silvershadowdragon39 @imofficialbabyuwu

[cynicaldesire]

So what are your thoughts on season 4? Lay them on me!

My husband and I binged the entire Season 4 over the course of the weekend. We watched 6 episodes, then the last 4. We had a lot of feelings on it for a lot of reasons, mostly because I’m a writer, my husband is an artist, and we’re both critics because we have created work in the past.

My husband’s final rating was 6/10, wouldn’t watch it again but he wanted to give credit to the animators and staff that worked on it. I said I would give it a 4/10. It was so... disappointing. I’m gonna go on a bunch of rants about why I was displeased, so if you want to maintain your positive experience, you don’t have to continue.

So, before I get into the writing, I just want to point out that the sound design, music, and voice acting were all either poorly mixed because of COVID in-home booths or just shitty. The music didn’t pop off with any homages to actual game music and I couldn’t hear it most of the time. The voice acting of most of the cast was pretty great, but I hate Alucard’s voice. The murmuring breathy whispers of most of the cast is just annoying to me, but that’s a personal preference, I know. But a lot of other things didn’t have proper weight or punch to match what was happening.

The animation was also wildly inconsistent. My husband pointed out, again, COVID, so the animators were all probably working from home on deadlines and the Art Director, the guy meant to keep all the art on-model and consistent, probably wasn’t available to check work and send it back to the animators for changes. Or, there wasn’t sufficient time between when the animators sent there work in for changes to be requested. Don’t get me wrong, like with the voice cast, some of the animation was fucking sick, but it was just weighed down by all the poorly masked 3D shortcuts or off-model art.

(One of the things I kept thinking of when gore would happen was the Mortal Kombat devs that got PTSD from having to look at images of gore for the Fatalities. And I was like this isn’t worth all that. Fuck.)

Greta was fine, but she seemed flat. I’ve made her character before and been disappointed in how cool and nonchalant she is. She seems to be too good and relaxed at everything going on. That might’ve been the voice actor, but honestly? She fell flat for me. I didn’t not like her, she just didn’t feel very... well written? Like I said, she reminded me very much of a character I would make at first pass. And while I don’t mind or disagree with the choice to make her a love interest or even a close friend of Alucard, there was not enough buildup for it. Probably because she felt so flat to me.

Overall, on the writing front, I will say that it felt very... first draft. Like no one had an opportunity to look it over and say “Maybe don’t give Saint Germain’s whole motivation and backstory in episode 3?” Or not telegraphing the Death inclusion, or like... There’s so much that was just so poorly handled to me. There’s so many ways I personally would have done it differently or how it could’ve been handled better. There were so many characters that just stated their motivations and repeated them over and over again.

Isaac: ends last season hating humanity and having no reason to challenge that belief. Hates Hector for betraying Dracula. Full of hate and rage. This season: Opens with all his Night Creatures repairing a city, earing berries, and completely at peace with his past and his life. Flyseyes is there for ONE scene and never heard from again. And Isaac literally goes from that to invading Carmilla’s castle to DISAPPEARING. WHY?

The sequence with Isaac invading Carmilla’s castle was hilarious, too. Who the fuck is the hot demon? Some demon from the Wiki. Whomst were the fuckin human blokes with crossbows? Literally just human blokes with crossbows that they hired from a town somewhere else because apparently they didn’t have enough forces??????? The ring Hector ends up cutting off is never actually shown to force him to do something against his will? The fucking slave ring is also openly displayed in a bunch of other places and never utilized. It’s a useless McGuffin.

Carmilla descended into madness, or progressed through her logical steps violently due to solitude? And then when Lenore asks her what her motivations are, Carmilla tries to be coy and not answer the question so they end up having the same dialogue like 4 times? Lenore is somehow SURPRISED? Like, all of these people were human at some point, and that shit is never addressed, or if it is, it’s not remembered.

Hector was also here. He made a night creature, helped Isaac kill Carmilla - why did she explode so violently? - and then chilled in the castle the rest of the time. Like, nothing bad happened to him other than his finger. Which, show his hand every time he’s on screen, remind the audience of his injury. Isn’t it cool and edgy and shocking?

Saint Germain being just a shitty carnal entity was boring. He had a girlfriend he wanted to save so he could get laid, SNORE. When they showed her, she looked like Maria from Symphony of the Night, which has an ending that heavily implies her and Alucard hook up, so I was irritated that they coopted her appearance for this woman with no speaking lines that led Saint Germain to the Infinite Corridor.

Like, everything around Saint Germain’s story was pretty cool. If they hadn’t shown up literally in episode 3 through a sudden flashback his story and his motivations and also he’s the villain, the mystery of what he was doing was interesting. And for it to all just be told to us upfront? And then he just fucking died?

I had no fucks to give for Varney/Death. Death is not mentioned at any point before this season, he shows up seemingly randomly at the end as the Big Bad, and he’s just a big skeleton asshole. Ratko was at least a little interesting, but also wtf was he there for?

I also didn’t much care for Zamfir. I felt like there should’ve been two characters in her place. If one of them was crazy and the other was following their orders without knowing they were crazy? Cool. If she was crazy and didn’t ACKNOWLEDGE she was crazy? Better than what we got. The knights and the Underground Court and all the shit with Targoviste? Boring. Because, specifically, it demands a lot of suspension of disbelief that I didn’t have at that point.

Who the fuck was Dragan? What were all the monsters attacking the castle? Awful convenient for Alucard to have a shield now. He also had a bunch of skill from the SotN game, like the wolf form and the winged cape. Why did that one vampire have big bat wings and never again? Why did Varney call like literally everybody on the mirror phones? Why did he know to do that? Why did Saint Germain know him? WHERE DID TREVOR GET THE OTHER WHIP?

Trevor and Sypha were honestly probably the best handled. Sypha was herself but bigger and stressed. Trevor was also very tired and still a monster hunter. My husband was very happy with the “We’re just two sides of the same coin” philosophy Trevor had with Death, like Geralt feeling like a monster because he’s a Witcher. The idea that they aren’t exactly human and cause so much death but to the monsters. He wanted that explored. I was too busy being frustrated at the huge flashy animation fight to even remember that Trevor had said anything like that.

The magical weapons in Targoviste were cool plot devices. Much like with Varney and the mirrors and so many other things, it felt like they were there because the plot demanded it, not because there was some natural story for it outside of when Trevor and Sypha showed up.

But the single most disappointing thing was Vlad and Lisa living at the end. They didn’t want to see Alucard, absolute shit move regardless of their reasoning. The fact that they still went by Vlad and Lisa Tepes was bound to get back to Alucard somehow. And I... Being in Japan and engaging with a lot of Japanese media, I understand the way they use God is similar to the way they use Spirits, or Kami or something. God being used by a Western author makes it so wildly different. But I’m also... pretty against the idea of God in general, so the whole idea that “God” said Dracula and Lisa deserved a second chance is boring. Like, there’s so much wrong with this ending. It was only there for the shippers, probably.

Anyway. 4/10, wouldn’t watch again.

[finallyaniguana]

Watch The Eyes: Paris [8]

[7]     masterpost    ao3    [9]

The next day at school was like every other. Marinette arrived only a few minutes before Mlle Bustier took roll, breathing heavily.

Alya shook her head at her best friend.

"At least you're on time," she sighed.

On the other side of the room, Lila was spewing lies as usual. She had failed to make good on her promise to turned all Marinette's against her, but she was still going strong with her tall tales.

"I really hope we win that trip to Gotham. It would mean so much to me! I have such good memories there," Lila was saying.

"Oh, yeah? Do tell," Alix requested, expression a careful neutral.

"Well... it's a bit of a secret. But, I can trust you all, right?" Lila giggled. "Okay, I'll let you in!"

Chloe was rolling her eyes next to Adrien. She caught his eye and shook her head.

That caught Marinette's interest.

'Is that secret that you've been lying to everyone and will now be moving to Gotham, never to be seen again?' she thought sarcastically.

"Bruce Wayne's youngest son, Damain, is actually my soulmate," she claimed.

Adrien raised his eyebrows incredulously from the front row. If she has a soulmate thats 'oh-so important to her', then why has she been hanging all over him?

"We decided to wait until after we graduated to be together of course. So we could find ourselves before really turning to each other," she went on.

Adrien slumped down. He may never be safe from her fawning.

Rose sighed, almost literal hearts in her eyes.

"That's soooooooo romantic! How did you guys meet?" she begged to know.

Lila pretended to be resistant to sharing her little story before sitting up straighter, gaining energy from everyone's attention like a sadistic leech.

"Well, when we were seven, my mother was stationed in the US. In Gotham. We met in the hotel lobby. While my mom and Mr. Wayne talked, of course he insisted I call him Bruce after, since we're practically family now, I spent time with his son. When I looked into his eyes for the first time... it was like a whole new world opened up," she forced a dreamy sigh.

Marinette had no idea how everyone was falling for this. She and Adrien made peripheral eye contact. He wiggled his eyebrows at her. She held back her laughter.

"I didn't even realize I was missing a color, but now I know I will never look at blue the same way again."

'You would have never looked at blue in the first place.'

Of course, Bruce Wayne kept a private household. No public pictures of the children still living with him. There was no way to prove that. Bruce Wayne had blue eyes and so did his first ward, Dick Grayson, judging by the tabloid pictures of the time (Marinette had done a bit of research on the family before even considering applying for this trip).

Mylene spoke next, "Do you have any pictures together? I bet you were so cute!"

Lila dramatically draped herself over the back of her bench.

"Sadly I can't show you. We made an agreement not to share photos of each other. Wouldn't want to paparazzi catching on, now would we?" she smiled, sugary sweet.

"You have to tell us about him!" Rose interjected.

Lila turned back to the petite blonde before looking off into the distance like she was having a dramatic flashback.

'I wonder if she's visualizing the lie.'

"He's just soooo sweet and affectionate! He's always holding my hand and writing me sweet notes and-"

At last Mlle Bustier entered the room, saving Marinette and Adrien from busting their sides from holding in laughter and Chloe from yacking up her gourmet breakfast from the front row.

"Class!" she buzzed with excitement. "I have a very important announcement to make!"

The hum of small voices quieted.

"I know you've all been anxiously awaiting news about the Wayne scholarship trip application! I can finally tell you the winning class. Thanks to the hard work of our class president," she gave Marinette a dazzling smile. "We have been selected to go on the trip to Gotham! We will be put up in a hotel, given a tour of Wayne Enterprises, and given an opportunity to sit in on Gotham Academy classes!"

The class practically exploded with sound. Alya grabbed her friends shoulder, shaking her.

"Girl! You did it! Oh my god, you did it!"

Marinette was practically glowing with praise over the next few hours.

After class that day everyone was congratulating her on her essay skills. Max even asked her for a copy to read on the plane. She happily told him she would print him a copy and bring it to him at the airport before their flight.

"Isn't this wonderful, Lila? You can finally go back to Gotham! Ooooooh! Maybe your soulmate could take you out for a super romantic dinner!" Rose squealed.

Lila was hiding her pained look. She honestly hadn't expected Marinette to win this competition. Now she just had to pray they didn't run into the subject of her lies because that would send her delicate house of cards crashing down.

"Well, I'm just lucky to have a soulmate. I know there are some people out there," she made eye contact with Marinette across the room. "that weren't meant to have a match."

Adrien scoffed next to her. He looked at Marinette with a slight annoyed look. He'd always hated it when Lila used that to try and make his Lady feel inferior. Marinette learned quickly to brush off the hurt after years of dealing with Chloe's bullshit. Not that Chloe hadn't made an effort. All it took was an ultra liar to see how bad it was to be a target.

Almost everyone in the class had a mark or some form of palpable sign that signified their other half was out there, if they hadn't already met their soulmate. Marinette and Lila were the only two in the class that had no sign (that she knew of) at all. Until now. Her soulmate was out there. He might have a tendency to fight superheroes in caves at six in the morning... but he was hers. Whoever he was.

They were set to fly out in two weeks. Two stressful, jam packed weeks. Principle Damocles had been in to give them a presentation on what he expected behavior wise and to congratulate them. Mlle. Bustier had been in contact with the Wayne representative and he had sent them a list of things to bring and what not to bring. They also received a base schedule so parents would have a general idea of where their children were during the day. Despite the stress, the time flew by.

All the preparations were being made, belongings packed.

The main issue for Adrien and Marinette was figuring out to get back to Paris if the need arises. Akuma attacks had declined over the last few years so it would most likely be okay. But to be safe, the two heroes went to see the Guardian. He provided them the horse miraculous for quick travel if they needed to be in Paris quickly.

They argued for over a half of an hour trying to decide who would hold onto Kaalki while in Gotham. Eventually they decided that Ladybug should hold onto it since she had the best strategies if needed in a pinch.

All three of them thought it would be quite unlikely that Hawkmoth would attack Paris while they were away. He had severely limited his activity to almost once a month. They weren't sure what the change was, but they were grateful nonetheless.

Everything was ready.

"Are you sure you have everything, sweetie?" her mother asked.

Her papa looked at her with admiration.

"I'm so proud of you, baby," he gushed.

"Yes, I'm sure. I must have double checked like a million times. I have my luggage, my carry on with my sketchbook, my phone," 'the horse miraculous,' "and Mlle Bustier has the plane tickets. That should be everything." She smiled at her parents.

"What about your dress base for the Wayne Gala?" her father reminded.

She lightly patted her red roller suitcase. She intended to buy fabrics in Gotham with her free time and finish it there. She was going to the gala in an MDC original, as was Alya. Marinette had already been making a gown for Alya to wear (and a tie and pocket square for Nino, if need be), just in case she was invited to any events due to her aspirations in reporting. She had also been intending to invite her best friend to the next event she attended with Jagged Stone. Marinette knew Alya would flip at the opportunity. She put the finishing touches on Alya's floor length gown last week, spending the following week doing as much as possible for hers so it could be done in time for the Gala.

They handed off a box of macarons to her to share with her classmates before boarding the plane. She popped the lid. They were based off Gotham's heroes. Her smiled tightened.

She thought back to her conversation with Alya.

"Alya. There are heroes in the US, right?" she asked, eyes serious and spine straight.

Her auburn hair whipped around and smacked herself in the face. She grinned really wide, not even noticing Marinette's out of character demeanor.

"Yeah! Alot of the Justice League has home cities in the US. Superman in Metropolis, The Flash in Central City, Green Arrow in Starling City, Green Lantern in Coast City! And of course! Batman is Gotham's Dark Knight. I could go on. What do you want to know?"

"Um..." she tried to broach the subject without being suspicious. "I saw a picture of a hero I didn't recognize. So, I assumed you would be able to tell me who he was."

Alya spread her hands out.

"You came to the right superhero fanatic! Show me."

"Oh, well I didn't save the photo... I saw it on a blog post on my desktop," she lied, wincing, the strange standoffish energy fading.

"That's okay. Describe him. I'm sure I can figure it out."

Marinette thought back to the man she met through her soulmates perspective.

"Black hair I think. Black suit and domino mask. Blue symbol thing on his lightweight armor chest plate? Staff? Like Chat Noir's I think... but not magic. His suit was built for agility not power," she provided.

The blogger thought for a moment. Her eyes lit up as she fell on an answer.

"That sounds like Nightwing. No superpowers but still really good. One of Batman's partners. Started out in Gotham but has been spotted pretty frequently in Blüdhaven. Were you doing more research on Gotham when you saw the picture?"

Nightwing...

"Are you sure, Alya?"

Her best friend smiled smugly at her. She whipped her phone out if her pocket and quickly typed something in. She flipped it around and showed her the search results. There he was.

"That's definitely him! Nightwing..." she trailed off.

"Yeah, girl. I know my stuff," Alya bragged.

"Okay, you said he was just one of Batman's partners. He has more?"

Alya huffed and blew a piece of stray hair out of her face.

"So, this was all pretty hush hush since Batman's clearly a very private person but there has been a couple different sidekicks and partners to cycle through, at least from what I can gather from different media sources. So there was the first Robin, then I think there was a second one... but... he fell off the radar. Since then there's been two more Robin's. You can tell because the costume changes every few years. There's also a few Batgirls out there."

"Okay... would you say any of them were... our age?" Marinette asked.

Alya looked at her friend, a strange smile on her face.

"The current Robin is probably pretty close. Why? You trying to talk to a superhero, girl?"

She back pedaled.

"No, no, no! I was just asking because of Ladybug and Chat Noir! So, they look our age! I just wanted to know if anyone in Gotham was too," she managed to come up with.

Alya looked like she was about to continue questioning her about why she wanted to know.

"You sure do know alot about superheroes... what do you do in your free time?" she tried for a humor redirection.

"Like you haven't had an obsession before. *cough* Adrien *cough*," she shot back.

"Um, no fair? I thought he was my soulmate so give me a break! And, in my defense he kind of is," she pouted.

"Oh, please. You did not think he was your soulmate. You wanted him to be your soulmate. Big difference."

She'd told Adrien about the switching, but not the circumstance. She had to figure out who he was before it got dangerous.

She shut the box again and smiled up at her parents.

"I'll call every night," she promised.

Just then, Adrien walked in. He was giving her a ride to the airport.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"Yes! I'm ready!"

She kissed both her parents on the cheek before collecting the rest of her things and following Adrien out the door.

"I'll text you when we're boarding! I love you!"

They waved at her until she got into the car and drove away.

taglist: (CLOSED)

@vixen-uchiha @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @violatiger8 @mochinek0 @constancetruggle @yamadochie @seraphichana @captainmac6 @nataladriana9 @iggy-of-fans @riarkle-felinettelove @luciferge @mystery-5-5 @mellownieice @northernbluetongue @imanerddealwith @ayuchan07 @poshplumcot @annabellabrookes @legendaryneckjudgestudent @chez-pezeater @friedchickening @da-tasuky @crazylittlemunchkin @g-arya @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @witchbitch1998 @theatreandcomicfreak @lysslovsanime

[novamm66]

Since Dragon Age II, I have shipped Varric and Cass together. It’s hard for me to imagine anything else. So when I started writing Red Sky in the Morning, these two kept showing up. On great advice from a friend, I decided to write these two their own story and it was disturbingly easy to write.

From Earth to Sky was written to stand on its own, although there will be references to things explained in Red Sky.

I hope you enjoy!

—

Varric Tethras hated boats. The topside world was a fantastic place, but in his opinion, the surface one stood upon should be unmoving. This was not the first time he had crossed the Waking Sea, and with luck, it would not be his last. It was, however, the first time he had done so under arrest.

Varric sighed as he pushed himself away from the rail. The sun was almost down, and the wind was picking up again. The Captain was confident they would reach West Hill early in the morning. Varric carefully made his way below deck, heading in the direction of the cabins in the stern. Just before entering his cabin, he heard moaning from across the hall. Curly was having a rough go of it and hadn’t left his bunk since they had boarded. The Seeker, who was sharing the cabin with him, had rarely left his side.

Varric knocked before popping open the latch and sticking his head inside. “The sun’s down, Seeker. How’s Curly doing?”

Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast had slumped against the cabin wall, but she snapped to attention at Varric’s entrance.

“He’s fine.” She snapped. Knight-Commander Cullen Rutherford’s skin was a clammy green shade, his cheeks sunken and his eyes screwed shut as he tossed against the pillow, moaning in his sleep. Curly was anything but fine.

Varric arched an eyebrow at the Seeker, who sighed and deflated a little bit. “He’s not fine, but he is improving, I think.”

The Seeker looked exhausted. She had dark shadows under her eyes, and she was pale, although her face had flushed as she glared at him. “Why don’t you go to the galley, get something to eat, maybe get cleaned up and grab a bunk somewhere?” Varric suggested. “I will stay here and watch Curly for a while.” Cassandra’s eyes narrowed as she studied him suspiciously. “You can lock the door if it makes you feel better,” he added.

Varric caught the hint of a smile before she schooled her face into the frown she usually wore when she spoke to him.

“Alright. I mean, no, locking the door won’t be necessary and, yes, I will accept your offer.” Cassandra cleared her throat, glancing at Cullen on the bed. “If he worsens, come and find me.”

For a moment, she looked like she was going to say more, but changed her mind. Instead, she nodded and quickly left the cabin.

—

Blast that Dwarf, Cassandra thought for the millionth time since she had picked up Master Tethras to question. He was as cagey as they came: every answer he gave just led to more questions. Cassandra was proud of her skill at getting the truth from people, but she couldn’t get a handle on Varric.

Cassandra stumbled into the galley, forgetting the raised lip on every blasted door on the ship. Varric was right. She was exhausted. Cassandra couldn’t remember the last time she had gotten more than three hours of sleep at once.

They had delayed their departure from Kirkwall, so Cullen and the small band of templars who had decided to join him could get their affairs in order. There were fifteen of them, including Cullen, but they were all veteran templars with the fighting skills to match. If the Revered Mother’s plans came to pass, they would need all the skilled fighters they could get.

Cassandra nodded her thanks as she accepted a bowl from the cook and slowly sat down at the table. They would reach Ferelden in a few days, and then they would be riding hard to reach Haven. They likely wouldn’t make it until after the Conclave had already begun, but that shouldn’t make much of a difference. Cassandra was grateful not to have to deal with the looks and whispers her presence with the Divine always provoked.

She ran through her lists in her head as she quickly polished off the fish stew, then washed out her dishes and went in search of a bunk.

—

The ambush was well planned and took their party entirely by surprise. Agent Pike, one of the soldiers who met them at the docks in West Hill, fell instantly with an arrow through her neck. Then everything erupted in chaos.

Varric managed to roll off his pony and dart out of the mass of panicked horses without getting trampled. He scrambled up the boulders that had their party hemmed in to give him a clear view of the road and the hill beyond. Although their attackers weren’t wearing any sort of uniform, Varric recognized the style of garb instantly.

Tevinters? How the fuck are they here? Varric thought. Suddenly, the shadow of a large man with a two-handed sword loomed over him. Varric drew his dagger, but his crossbow was still strapped to his back, and he didn’t have time to gear Bianca up. The fighter was too close.

Varric dodged his opponent’s first swing, the sword whispering by Varric’s ear as he ducked around behind. His dagger sliced deep into the tissue below the fighter’s knee, and the man went down with a bellow. Varric made quick work finishing him off.

While Varric prepped Bianca, he assessed the situation. The bulk of the fighting was about fifty yards from him, and their attackers only seemed to have one archer. Varric could see them on the rise opposite of where he stood. The archer was taking careful aim at Cassandra, who had her back to them, fighting two assailants.

“Seeker! Down!” Varric bellowed, firing Bianca at the same moment that the arrow left the bow of the enemy. His bolt buried itself in the archer’s chest, but Varric’s eyes stayed on what was happening below.

Cassandra dropped to her knees at his shout, and the arrow meant for her back sailed over her shoulder and hit one of the men she was fighting. Cassandra’s other opponent took advantage of her position, and even as she deflected his sword stroke, he lashed out with his boot. He caught her on the side of her face. She crumpled to the ground, and as the sword above her rose and began to fall, Varric loosed a bolt that cleanly struck the gap below the man’s helmet, dropping him instantly.

Varric moved towards the fallen Seeker as quickly as he was able. Most of the horses had bolted, but the melee fighting was tightly packed. Varric fired Bianca sparingly, making sure he didn’t hit any of their people. He made it to her side and dropped to his knees. Her head, face and neck were covered in blood, and she looked dead. Varric pulled his glove off with his teeth and felt for a pulse.

“Thank the Maker,” he murmured, feeling a steady pulse beneath his fingers. He quickly pulled off his other glove and started searching for the source of the blood. The left side of her face was already swollen and felt hot. Varric hissed when he found the gash along her jaw. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and applied as much pressure as possible, his other hand cupping the back of her head. He had spent enough time helping Blondie patch up Hawke and the company to have some battlefield healing skills. He even carried a suture kit in his pack, lucky in this case because the Seeker was going to need it.

“Maker’s mercy, tell me she’s not dead.” Cullen gasped as he dropped to his knees next to Varric.

“Still alive,” Varric replied, his words verified as the Seeker groaned and started to move. “Easy there, Seeker. You took a nasty knock to the head. Go slowly.”

Cassandra’s eyes fluttered open, and Varric felt relief flood through him. It took her a moment to come back to herself and realized that Varric was holding her face between his hands. When she did, she glared up at him.

Varric chuckled. “You have a deep cut on your jaw. It’s going to need stitches. Can you keep the pressure on it until I can track down my pack?”

Cassandra tried to nod and winced, but she brought her hand up to replace Varric’s over the blood-soaked cloth.

“Did you hit your head when you fell? Anything else hurt?” Varric asked as he moved his hands over the back of her head and neck, checking for signs of heat.

Cassandra swallowed. “No, I- I don’t think so.” She struggled to sit up, Varric and Cullen helping her. She winced again as a fresh trickle of blood ran down her chin.

Rylen strode up to them, and Varric glanced around, finally realizing the fighting was over.

“Commander,” Rylen saluted, “all the enemies are dead. Three of ours. The rest is sound, a few minor injuries. The Seeker seems to be the worst.”

“Thank you, Captain. Take a few men and round up the horses. Also, scout for a good location to make camp further along the road.” Cassandra made a sound of dissent, but she didn’t say anything, and Rylen saluted again before hurrying off. Cullen stood and surveyed the area.

“Go do what you need to do, Curly. I’ll stay with the Seeker here. Let me know when my pony turns up, and if anyone else needs stitches,” Varric said.

Cullen nodded, then headed down the road, issuing orders as he went. Varric pulled a second handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to Cassandra. She took it and started awkwardly wiping away the blood.

One of the soldiers appeared and offered them a water-skin, which Varric accepted and thanked her for as he passed it to Cassandra. Drinking was tricky, and she cursed as more blood leaked from under her hand. Varric picked up the cloth and, after taking the water-skin back, soaked it and gently started to wipe the blood off Cassandra’s face. Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t say anything, so he continued what he was doing.

By the time he was done, most of the horses had been rounded up, Varric’s pony included. He rose to his feet. “Now we get some stitches in that, and a few healing draughts in you and you will be good as new.” He started to move down the road to grab his pack. He stopped when Cassandra spoke.

“Thank you, Varric.” Her voice was a mix of gratitude, surprise and suspicion, and it made Varric smile.

He turned back to her and winked. “Anytime, Seeker.”

—

[capricornus-rex]

Two Sides of the Coin (7)

Chapter 7: Comfort in the Midst of Irony | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

Also tagging: @silver-is-in-too-many-fandoms

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 | Previous: Part 6 | Next: Part 8 | Masterlist

7 of ?

Cal had just gotten back out into the open and found the river that divides the town from the jungle where he came from. He knelt by the bank, scooping up cold freshwater and splashing it into his face, scraping himself clean off the sweat and dirt. He used the last handful of water to comb his scarlet hair using his bare fingers.

He finally crosses the bridge, upon his entrance into the town, he was greeted with the colors spread across from each end of the street, hollers of vendors and haggling buyers rung loud between the walls of the buildings. Stall owners gesture at Cal to at least look at their wares, he politely dismisses them as he passes them by.

“Be careful not to overheat your scanners, BD!” Cal beamed, knowing that the curious little BD-1 is going to scan everything left and right as they go.

“Woop, trill! Chirp.”

“Yeah, this place sure is pretty,”

“Boo! Trill, beep!”

“Oh, you meant Jidné? Yeah, she is kinda pretty,”

Cal wandered off farther into the town, the thought of the Force ripple and Jidné ran tirelessly around his mind. He recalled the nudging sensation that he’s gotten ever since he and the crew landed, then the feeling spiked when he discovered Jidné—more so when she took his hand to help her stand up. The image of her constantly flashed behind his eyes—the shy smile that responded to his awfully awkward one-liners and quips burned into his memory, the melody of her voice, and the way she moved with her lightsaber.

Looking back, he rarely—in fact, never—encountered another Padawan who wielded a purple blade. The only person he knew who did was Master Windu.

Cal found himself into a modest-looking pub, light instrumentals filled the establishment as its patrons chattered amongst themselves over their drinks. He regretted that he didn’t wear the kind of poncho that had a hood; fortunately for him, no one seemed to have noticed the boy come in the bar. Cal scanned the place and saw no sign of Stormtroopers doing patrol, he sighed in relief.

“Something mild,” he orders to the bartender.

While waiting for the bartender to work on it, Cal surveyed the place again—the cantina was filled with so many species that he couldn’t name them all. The humans were also bizarre-looking: cosmetic implants attached to certain parts of their bodies, hair dyed in outlandish colors that match or complement their facial tattoos, with matching makeup on their eyes and lips to boot—especially the women.

The bartender slid Cal’s glass towards him, to which the boy halted the sliding with the cushion of his palm. The first sip was always the strongest one, no matter the alcohol level, a hot sensation seared his palate; he smacked his tongue against the insides of his cheeks until the fizz leaves his mouth. In the corner of his eye, he spotted a Haxion Brood hunter and the HURID droid; before they’d spot him back, Cal slightly angled his body so the back of his head faces them—though it doesn’t help him much because his red hair was the only defining feature they know to identify him.

Cal scooted a bit closer next to a Talz, hoping that the size of the creature would shield him from the hunters’ sights. It worked, but only for a moment. He had to move quick. He left his glass half-empty, slipped a gold credit to the bartender, and attempts to vanish in the pub. Little did he know that the hunters noticed him turn his back to leave the bar; he sensed them following him, so he briskly walked towards the denser crowd to blend in and lose the hunters at the same time.

“There he is!” the human hunter pointed with his bionic hand.

Both hunters shouldered their way through the crowd in the marketplace, especially the HURID droid who practically plowed his way through the people—it’s highly likely that the people he’s shoved and push will have a bruise pop out of them any day after that—meanwhile, Cal was careful in going through the crowd, matching their pace, regretting some more that he didn’t wear the hooded type of poncho.

“Out of my way!” the HURID droid bellowed, pushing away a local who stumbled upon the stall he was browsing at.

Cal picked up his pace while continuously mumbling “Pardon me” and “Excuse me” to the people he shoulders through. When he got into a wide space, enough for him to run, he bolted through the market’s streets—it didn’t take long until he came across another wave of people filling the road. He didn’t slow down for that though, he continued to run, looking over his shoulder from time to time—as consequence, he bumped into a stranger as he ran and they stumbled to the ground together.

From the fall, the cowl revealed its owner to be Jidné.

“Cal?”

“Jidné?”

Jidné groaned as she rubbed the back of her head, Cal’s brain was going haywire—deciding whether to bolt away and miss Jidné or simply hide with her tagging along against her will.

“Where is he!?” the HURID droid roared, drowned amongst the crowd.

There was no time for questions, Cal chose the latter option that his brain made in the last minute. He snatched her wrist as soon as she sat up and dragged her along. They crawled towards a market stall, sitting into a tucked position as their backs hug the wooden planks that make up the kiosk’s wall.

“What’s going on?” Jidné whispered.

“Shh!”

Cal braced her with his entire arm, both of them huddled together to the dust—just so they’re in the same height as the short-fenced market stall. Jidné was startled with the entire rough-and-tumble but she immediately knew what Cal was trying to pull.

The stampeding footsteps of the Haxion Brood hunter and his HURID companion approached their spot, they stopped just a few inches past the stall; both the young Jedi and the bounty hunter stuck their backs against the wooden planks more—both youngsters were frozen in place as they couldn’t look away from their pursuers, Jidné’s eyes fixed on the two goons, the human hunter was scanning the area. Not waiting for that hunter to turn his head to their direction, Jidné clutched for Cal’s arm on her shoulder and then put all of her focus on using her ability.

“What was that?!” the hunter snarled, abruptly twirling to face Jidné and Cal’s general direction.

Cal’s felt his heart fall to his feet when he met eyes with the hunter, but it occurred to him that the hunter apparently cannot see them. He swears that he’s face-to-face with the Brood hunter right now! The hunter is literally one step away from him, he shuddered at how close he is with the enemy but the Brood agent isn’t doing anything.

Cal looked to his side and saw the steely expression in Jidné’s face, he felt her hand around his, she afforded a quick side-eye as she caught him staring at her—he was beginning to grasp that she was doing this.

“You see ‘im, Fazer?” asked the bruiser droid.

The human hunter, Fazer, squinted his eyes and panned that one empty nook right beside the market stall.

“Argh! Nah, probably just a vermin or somethin’ I heard,” he grumbled.

“He must’ve went that way!” the droid pointed to their direction up ahead and then darted through.

Soon the footsteps receded, Jidné didn’t remove her hand from Cal’s until there was no sight of that pair. She scrambled to her feet, still crouched to the same level as the market stalls, and then peeked out into the street while ignoring the startled locals looking between them and the two hunters running ahead.

“I think they’re gone,” she turned around to Cal, still seated on the dust, mouth gaped open as he still tried to comprehend what happened seconds ago.

“How did…?” he mumbled. It was so quiet that Jidné didn’t hear it as she checked out their surroundings.

“You seem like you have a knack for attracting trouble.”

“Yeah well, there’s a bounty on my head for being a Jedi. The group that’s after me isn’t exactly the friendliest bunch,”

Jidné bit her lip. The whole thing is so uncanny that it hurt her on the inside.

“Right,” she hummed as casually as she could.

When the coast was truly clear, Cal brought himself up his feet and dusted off the yellow sand that clumped on his jacket and pants.

“Sorry, I kinda dragged you in there for a moment,”

“Wait, did you think those Haxion goons were gonna come after me too—that’s why you pulled me in with you?”

“Yeah, I…” Cal was patting off the dust from his sleeve until it occurred to him, he jerked his head to face Jidné. “Wait. How’d you know they were Haxion?”

Oh fuck! Jidné’s conscience screamed so loud that her mouth nearly replicated the words.

“I had my own run-ins with them,” she shrugged her shoulders. She nodded at the alley on her left. “Come on, this way should be safer. Less open, more hidden.”

Jidné led Cal into the narrow annex of the main road, doors lined the walls—assuming that this was another residential area that sits behind the business establishments—and worked their way out of the crowded part of town.

“You got yourself into a bar fight or something?” Jidné blurted.

“No, I was just out to get a drink until I spotted them—I guess they spotted me when I was about to leave,”

“Sounds like you haven’t truly mastered the art of subtlety,” she clapped back.

“Hold on,” he pressed. “What was that just now?”

“The what?”

“That!” Cal gestures at the space behind him, but Jidné knew what he exactly meant. “You saw the hunter, he was literally right in front of us! But… he didn’t see us? That couldn’t be me—I’m sure as hell that that’s not me!”

Jidné was calm, completely the opposite definition of Cal’s hysteria. She sighed. There’s no escape for her with these kinds of questions again.

“I don’t think this is the best place to explain, don’t you think so too?” quipped the young hunter.

Cal surveyed the area, residents standing outside their homes—for reasons unknown—and children playing in the narrow annex with their balls and playthings laid out on the road. Some of the folks have already noticed the two of them standing awkwardly together by the wall.

“Alright, I suppose you lead the way then?”

“Just stay close,” she sternly instructed.

——————————————————–

The intricate network of roads, annexes, and alleys in the town of Ombari was confusing, but if one knew the landmarks and kept it in mind, then it would be easier to navigate through the town. Jidné and Cal passed through some intersections here and there, they were looking for a spot that wasn’t too crowded—a few people wouldn’t be a bother, Jidné only preferred to have less people around and Cal concurred with that.

Cal kept his questions to himself. As they go along, more and more questions pile up in his mind—particularly, questions about Jidné herself.

They found themselves in the base of the hill where the town was situated. There were more small-time businesses lining up the path just right in front of the main entrance, but farmers and tillers mostly resided at the stretch of landed where they had plotted their modest farms and vegetable gardens. Their harvests were already in display for those who wanted to buy, they were no different from the vendors in the town proper though—except the noise wasn’t a factor in their part.

“That spot by the riverbank looks okay,” Jidné nodded at her north, gesturing at the river gleaming underneath the afternoon sun.

She and Cal sat on the other side of the river, across the hill where they could observe the farmers till and plow their crops, underneath the shade of the trees that framed along the winding river.

Both of them were getting tired—or perhaps, fed up—with the same old silence that always hung heavily around them, no matter the space in between, it’s always there. Neither of them saw it a sign for either of them to start a conversation.

“So, about what happened back in the marketplace?” Cal prompted.

Jidné exhaled and prepared herself.

“Can you like… cloak anything or anyone?” he added.

“When you put it that way, yeah,” she looked at him in the eye, then her eyes wandered to her own hands. “At first, it was simply just activating and deactivating it—in a way—it was hard for little ol’ me that time. I was fresh out of the Initiate Trials back then.”

Cal didn’t avert his gaze from Jidné, he shifted between examining her hands and then to her whenever she spoke.

“But now that I’m older—even back then when I was still a Padawan—I learned how to wield it better. I can manipulate how transparent I want things or people to appear, whether they’d be as thin as smoke or as invisible as the air we breathe.”

“Do you really need to touch in order to make things almost or completely invisible?”

Jidné clenched her fist, “It makes it easier for me if I do, and the area of effect varies too. Not touching them but still focusing on my target can have them be under the influence of my Force Shroud, but only for a time. Whereas being in physical contact, it’s the same—except twice or thrice as better. It all boils down to a matter of distance, really.”

He let all of that information sink into him, trying to grasp how Jidné’s Force ability worked. It wasn’t difficult to understand, though he could imagine the possibilities if one could master such a power.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of another Jedi with an ability like that,”

“My master thought the same thing,” her tone became more somber at the memory.

Cal’s next question might be one of the most personal ones, but he had a feeling that his master might have known hers. Regardless, he put that question for another time—he figured it might have been a topic too heavy for her, considering that she was also a Jedi who must’ve lost everything.

And lost everything she did.

“So, you got anything special in you too, ginger?” she initiated.

Instead of using words, Cal searched for a target—any target. He spotted a pile of shards from earthenware that beached onto the shore of the river, hidden well between the reeds; he scooted closer to the shard pile and hovered his hand over it. Jidné watched and she could feel the slight ripple send out a weak shockwave and a gust of wind.

“These pots were used by farmers to ferment the grain and wheat into some kind of liquid. They collected water to continue the fermentation process, but some wild animals jumped on them and broke them,” Cal explained.

Impressed, Jidné flicked her eyebrows up at Cal, who seemed proud of his little demonstration and proved it with a smirk across his lips.

“I think I’ve read about a power like that a long time ago. You touch an object and you get a glimpse of its past… A Force Echo.”

“Exactly,”

“Interesting,” she hummed, a smile involuntarily curled along her lips.

For a moment, Jidné forgot that she was a bounty hunter. The feeling of having someone to connect with something familiar from a distant past was intoxicating. She and Cal continued to banter about topics that weren’t exactly correlated with one another—for instance, their own droids.

Jidné told Cal the story of finding ID-3 in a disposal bin. She was expertly vague in leaving out some details that could go unnoticed. She recalled the time when she took a look at ID, he was apparently still in tiptop shape—all he needed was a circuit wire replacement and a good power recharge.

“The poor thing wasn’t exactly given the right attention,” Jidné cooed, petting ID-3’s flat-topped head. “So I patched him and now he’s mine!”

“What else did you do to ID-3?”

“Oh, just added some little perks and tweaks that might come in handy sooner or later. The little saucer never failed me so far,”

The black droid chirped happily, absorbing all of the compliments that poured out of Jidné’s mouth and she truly meant them.

Cal and Jidné whiled away the afternoon bantering some more and letting their droids get to know with one another. This was one of the rare moments where Jidné allowed herself to let loose—although the moment was lighthearted and happy, she couldn’t ignore the irony that gleamed blindingly in front of her face: the irony that such comfort is coming from the exact person that she is hunting down.

[trixcuomo]

Love Games

Up next on Desperate Alts’ Lives... Horde B celebrity Trixany Cuomo has finally pulled the lever to A-status, and now it’s like she’s fallen down into a black rabbit hole of gossip and dangerous glam, chasing her dreams. Is this it? Has Trix finally gone too far? One of her friends must be able to save her, but which are the right friends? Haris Pilton? Sig Nicious? Her Night Elf buddy Sharpen? Hopeless causes tend to want dark angels...

Jet black. Haris Pilton thought her once rival in all things, business, modeling, performing, climbing the Silvermoon City social ladder—Trixany Cuomo, soon to be Mrs. Sig Nicious—that Trixany would go with red for her own gossip closet. A cheery, and also dangerous color. But when they were done looking through Haris’s swatches months ago, under their new starlette truce of course, Trixany wanted her gossip closet in complete, knockout black.

Today, Trixany’s hand was on the lever, she just hadn’t pulled it yet this morning. First, she needed to gather all her targets. Haris’ pink knob was honestly so… odd. But Trixany chose a literal disco stick that reminded her of one of her favorite performers of all time. The part at the top was a classic disco ball with large tiles of glossy silver. The effect was going to take over the whole room whenever she was ready to ‘pull the lever!’ The first time she’d done it at Haris’ place was so fun, it was addicting. Yes, so wonderfully addicting.

Trixany crossed legs in her matching leather catsuit. The worker Gnomes with jumpsuits also piped in silver along the smart curves of their bodies? Still asleep. Trixany liked to get up before even they did.

She sat alone inside of the shell at the center of the room. Well, it was raised up for now, or else she wouldn’t be able to see or hear anything. The noise-cancelling, black ASMR shell-that-was-totally-not-like-any-other-famous-villain’s-personal-sanctuary-globe-thing-for-legal-reasons had its uses, just not right now. STNLAOFVPSGTLR or Stan’s Laff Vapors Get’er was a fascinating piece of technology engineered for relaxing starlettes exclusively. So it was perfect for a certain Horde B celebrity. Gotta love quirky Gnomish technology. The laugh vapors weren’t working so at the moment. They were also supposed to help her forget her stressors. Running low… White steam raised from the top of the shell and escaped through the gear-like teeth around the edges, wafting to the ceiling.

Gnomish technology to make you think, ten times, twenty times faster. Consider your options and get maybe twelve moves ahead of your opponent before they’re even out of bed, or grabbed their champagne brunch around 2 pm server… It was like farming for rares, from home, fast, and on felweed! But it was your frenemies you were felling.

Anyway…

The black control screens all around flickered with silent pictures of Trixany wannabes with their rip-off looks or performances, rival divas secretly being watched while they slept—and before you judge, Trixany felt justified; some of them were up in their own gossip closet war rooms, scheming against her even at this hour—and if you’re a true Team Trixany fan, then you also know about the runway fashion show footage Trixany had been streaming all week. All were designs from the newly launched, joint Haris-Trix fashion line. Haris had backed it financially, Trixany had endorsed it, done the leg work promoting and wearing some of the showstoppers. They had been raking in the gold over it until recently. Both their fandoms, for once, were united on the fashion line. Well, not all of the screens were filled with saucy models on catwalks. Trixany was also observing how each new outfit was being received in the market as it was launched, while simultaneously keeping an eye—with her special lace-lensed fashion goggles—for any rip-offs. New clothing that ripped off her rip-offs, if Trixany was every forced to be very honest about how she and Haris got all the designs—but that intel would only get forced out, by Goblin lawyers tougher than her own, in some inter-factional Azeroth court of law. Technically, they weren’t stealing other people’s ideas unless they got caught…

“I can’t stand this…”

Trixanys thoughts were moving more rapidly than she could speak them or even keep track of on her own. Inside the white-hot shell, little electronic flickerings along a web of wires and lights carried them away instantly, recorded them. The rest of the room was dark, so dark… But inside, Trixany was alone with her thoughts. Just merely thinking that she might sue someone for stealing her brand was stored in a databank the moment it occurred to her. A list of commands that would be sent to the ends of Azeroth to the Goblin lawyers, Horde or Alliance pop icons. (Don’t let them tell you Thrall doesn’t consider himself a Horde A celebrity… his gossip closet was rumored to be done over in the hides of his slain enemies, where no one could see of course.) And of course there were a clutch of thugs ready to ‘handle’ anyone normal out there without real connections. Quick, dirty, cheap.

That was the last bit of advice Trixany grudgingly took from Haris Pilton before she mastered the art of ‘gossip watching’ for herself. Before the student became the master. Now, on Screen Five, Trixany observed Haris in her bubblegum pink dressing robes having tea with her breakfast. Actually Haris had been doing that, and elegantly, for a while. A stray thought wondered if Haris had somehow found out about Trixany’s global network of hidden scrying orbs and had set up video loop clips at certain parts of the day when she didn’t want to be observed. And they were supposed to be the best of business partners…

A new, bright white bead of light raced around inside the shell and disappeared behind Trixany’s black chair. Screen Ninety-Eight suddenly flickered on and pulled up a list. White text against a lovely, rich dark screen. The words ‘Check up on Haris, the brat…’ already printing on a new line.

On mornings like this one, Trixany felt more Gnomish tech than woman. Sunlight… what a nice memory. Though they said something odd with the Scourge was going on outside these days. Maybe that was the real reason profits from their fashion line were slowing down? Who knew?

Trixany was a Blood Knight, had the skills of any paladin, she should have a lot of work to do with the Knights of the Blood Nexus, shouldn’t she? Shouldn’t Lady Liadrin call on her then? And beyond that, when was the last time she’d gone for a stroll—well, without Silvermoon paparazzi around her and Sig. And Sig? Sig Nicious, her fiancée… he kept postponing their wedding.

“You’re my butterfly, but it’s taking you ages to come out of your cocoon, do you understand? You’re not ontop of this celebrity stuff, Trix. I love you, but you’re just not there yet. You and Haris Pilton are friends now, why don’t you ask her for more advice? We need this to be a marriage of equals.”

Then Trixany’s own voice, it felt more like it haunted her above the constant jealous, scheming thoughts, it resurfaced. “No. I can’t do this…”

Trixany inhaled deeply of the white vapors, shut her eyes, shut off her deeper consciousness. Just a few more hours of this and she would finally be caught up with everyone else. Maybe ahead.

Caught up… Didn’t she used to like running, catching up with friends on long sunny walks? That time Sharpen took her to Highmountain, hiking so far her calves felt they would burn from sun and walking, she swore to him that they would, but he was too far ahead to hear her. Hear her catching up, catching her breath… that adorable fool.

A Night Elf man was suddenly there in her mind. Sharpen had carefully braided hair, long braids that fell over his broad shoulders. First in green, then in bright blue—he was wearing a “CYANS HAVE MORE FUN” t-shirt in one of her memories—and at last, his hair washed to a rich pink in her mind. Trixany knew all the shades Sharpen was trying these days, she’d kept track of them all, knew the brand, the shade, how many were left in stock…

Screen Fifty-Two flickered on, white lines over a dark surface, suddenly filling with numbers and a silent white web of locations united by lines on a map as a simple display of Alliance lands started to slide by. Trixany had wanted to know what her Night Elf friend’s new hair color would be, just a whim—but the gossip closet was already running the numbers, making a mathematical projection. Based on the number of colors left in the shops Sharpen frequented, the price point he usually aimed for, the favorite colors he was usually wearing.

“Forecast… 90 percent…Black.”

“Black? Really? Sharpen’s such an upbeat guy.”

Trixany hated knowing that. It depressed her. So her friend, who never had much money, who was just curious enough to try new things, not that he’d do it for a living and consult someone like she would… Sharpen was going to run into a wall soon with all the other options he’d tried, because cyan was his preferred shade of all the blues, and he’d already gone with the closest shade of pink-red her liked on his spectrum, and going back to green was too close to his natural color… The machine was printing all this detail as part of its proof… So he would feel bold—think himself just as bold as when he chose pink--and settle on black to surprise his friends. Black like her gossip closet. Black like… some big, empty hole. Trixany could no longer think it through. So she already knew what he was going to do? No surprises, no spontaneity? No reason to talk to him. She no longer had to see him to know what he was doing. It wasn’t required. He was a blip on a screen. And when was the last time she’d spoken to Sharpen, the real Sharpen?

What had he told her? Something silly about animals. Her eye twitched, she curled a fist as she remembered it. “Spiders aren’t supposed to be caught in their own webs, Trix. All these morsels you’ve ever wanted… they’re right there around you. Fixed in your web, you can have them all. But you’re still not happy. Shouldn’t you know why not? Can’t you tell? The old you would have just handled it, she doesn’t—or didn’t take anyone’s crap, whether from some monster down in a dungeon or… the well-dressed blonde bombshell kind.”

“Wait, do you mean Haris Pilton or Siggy?”

Sharpen shook his head at her, “Who are you, anymore?”

And what had she said in response to that? Sig was away from the dinner table at the moment, taking a call on his comm. “I don’t eat bugs, Sharpen.”

“No, but you do like to slay things. You like to find targets and take them out. Fix things for yourself and people, for the world, hell—for the Horde, however you think that still helps thew world. You have a sense of justice, or you did. You like to sit down after a battle, smile at how you’ve helped. But now you just look miserable. You even look unwell—”

“MAYBE BECAUSE I DON’T EAT BUGS LIKE SOME STUPID NIGHT ELF!”

Sharpen and Trixany hadn’t spoken to each other since. It was a bad, tragic gaffe to make at a busy, high-tone Dalaran restaurant. It was like… it built up and built up from… she didn’t know where. And then, like a volcano, the stupid, stupid senseless things she said just exploded out of her. Violent in its own way. It blew a hole clear through a friendship.

Trixany rubbed at the bridge of her nose. That time she and Sig took Sharpen out to dinner in Dalaran… Because Trixany had missed him. Because Trixany had hopped on a motorcycle and blown out of her own engagement party in Silvermoon City, at Sig’s place. Sig’s fancy place with all his perfect friends, all that flawless life. The pressure should have been off, she’d made it. She wasn’t a B-woman. She was A-grade. Like meat. No, an alpha, on top. She was a singer, and he was a singer too. Both of them were good people, actually decent. And he liked her, genuinely. It really felt like the lead singer of the Elite Tauren Chieftans loved her, truly, so why was she so distressed? Why did it feel like she couldn’t get a breath at times…

Trixany inhaled again, breathed deeply a few more times though it felt like she was panicking. “Why! Why is this happening to me?”

This was all she ever wanted, just like Sharpen had said. But it felt like things were hooked into her instead. Bleeding her dry. Trixany always assumed she would feel… filled up.

Filled up with things.

Things.

About forty models of all races, Orc, Goblin, Forsaken, Draenei, Gnomes, women and men of all races strutted in time across her control screens. Surely, they all had different music at their particular fashion shows. But fashion models all seemed to have the same unnerved strut. Now she saw it. They were all terrified of falling, of looking stupid. But they were charging through it while ignoring themselves. Completely disregarding their own fears, that they were hungry or tired, tired of all of it. Or, even if they loved what they did, it didn’t show in their faces nor their movements.

Maybe later. When it was all off, they could be themselves and just smile. Nobody smiled that they liked it while on stage in front of everyone, selling what was on their bodies. First rule of modeling. Since she got her start… in Goblin Gentleman’s Magazine of all places, that was always the rule. She would know. It’s not about you. It’s about what’s on you. Not what’s in you.

Never in.

“What if I’m just a pig inside?” Trixany frowned. “Scrying orb, play Gaga—”

The intercom interrupted what she was saying. A metallic sort of gnome’s voice said, “Visitor for Miss Cuomo.” Trixany hadn’t the heart to change her name over to Mrs. Nicious yet, when things honestly weren’t going well in that area of her life. He kept calling her his ‘butterfly’ yet she was still being treated like some slimy bug stuck in its pod… cocoon  thing.

“What level?”

“Popularity level three—”

“Oh, well then I don’t have the time.”

“Security level 50. Guest is Coco Cuomo.”

Her step-sister. Well what did Coco want? She rarely visited. “Let her in. And I still want you to play Gaga. Play Swine.”

As soon as the door slid open and the short green Goblin calling herself Coco Cuomo looked up and heard her new theme music, she frowned.

“Yeah, I know who’s a swine alright.” The little lime-colored Goblin girl smirked at her Blood Elf sister. Trixany stuck out her tongue.

“Um, can you at least turn down Gaga squealing out that ‘I’m so disgusting’ down a smidge? I came with some important business, you know.”

“Well, I should have assumed it would be about that. More Kaja-Cola crap? I thought I made it clear I was done with them--”

“Yeah right, when they were the ones who fired you? And who are yous, hangin’ out in hea like Darth Vader himself? Mrs. Hot-shot Sig Nicious herself, I see.”

“It’s not technically named for him so I can’t get sued—”

“Enough of this nonsense!” Coco threw her hands up. “This is exactly why I’m hea, you’re totally obsessed! When is your wedding even? Unless you’re really that low ya gonna invite the whole family and not me.”

Trixany snapped her sass-mouth shut, for now. “Sig and I are doing our best to make this… adjustment. I’m not used to being so famous.”

Coco just stared at her Blood Elf step-sister for a while.

“Swiiiiiiiine! Swiiiiiiiiiiiine!” The music started to rev up as if something was about to explode in that black gossip chamber Trixany had sealed herself in, like an enchanted tomb.

“Paint her face and, paint his face and, be a swine for… just the weekend!”

Coco erupted with new emotion, “People are dyin’ out thea, Trixany! And you’re in here plotting some… starlette’s destruction? I been trying and callin and sendin’ messenger pigeons up here for a week almost, so finally I had to come myself. I thought somethin’ real bad happened to you, all I wanted was to get you to hand over the damn Kaja-Cola Fiesta Lime contract for a damn good cause, I don’t care if you fell out with the Kaja-Cola Girls. I need your surplus stash a’ cans!”

Trixany just blinked at her. Three screens over Coco’s head started running a program, but kept coming up with repeating blank lines.

“Trixany, you really haven’t heard? You’ve truly been ignorin’ all the sufferin! We’re trying to FEED thirsty people on the front lines against the Scourge!”

“Oh. Well… I had heard whispers of that trending.”

“Trending? You’re supposed to be a PALADIN! Scourge slayer by birth or something. But you’re out here ruinin’ lives of the uppercrust like there ain’t a bottom to the pie—what’s happened to my sista! What is WRONG with you?”

“…You can’t feed thirsty people?”

“But I can bust up a thirsty trick!” Coco brandished an arclight spanner at Trixany.

“What did you just call me?? And how did you come in here armed?”

Now Coco was screaming it, “I don’t have a sista anymore. I can’t take it, I can’t stand it! You’re goin ta the Shadowlands to help with the fight, if I gotta killa ya and send you there myself! Then, Coco charged Trixany’s villainess globe, making her wild Kezani warcry.

“Yer just a pig inside a Blood Elf body! Time for you to squeal out!!”

[watchoutforthefanfics]

Your Heart Thine Destined To Be // Part One

Ship: Eventual Logince, Moxiety, and Dukeceit.

Summary: (Arranged Marriage! AU) Okay, sure. Roman’s in the next place for the crown. Okay, SURE. Roman’s not ready for that, and his parents know this too. So, what’s their solution? Have him marry someone who is, because God knows they aren’t going to let Remus have the crown.

Originally was going to be a comic, but my art skills are wack right now. And I need thissss.

Tags: @enragedbees @dante1138 @arc-gx @logan-sanders-enthusiast @nic-is-here

Let me know if you wanna be tagged!

//◇◇◇\

Okay, yes.

Roman was supposed to be at breakfast right now with his two brothers and his parents, at the long dining table. It was his schedule.

But he was out in the lush forest, climbing a tree instead. Which, he believed, is completely understandable, he should be able to miss breakfast to explore.

To be active? They were going to discourage him from being active? Doubtful.

The way the air bubbled onto his skin, the way that the sunrise lit up the sky, it was all so… perfect.

He wasn’t going to miss it for some… breakfast. He had breakfast everyday, this sunrise… it felt like one in a million.

“Roman!” a voice called to him, low from the bellows and he immediately froze –his father–, “What are you doing up there? It’s time for breakfast, you sho-”

“I know, Dad. It’s just-” Roman groaned, holding onto the trunk as his eyes flocked to the sky (which at this point was a beautiful mix of blue and pink), “-look at this sunrise!”

King Gerald, a burly man with a thick beard (more teddy bearish than you’d think), faltered; his voice pausing and his dark eyes running to the sky.

He watched his father light up, eyes twinkling, and lightly wondered to himself, where would he be if he wasn’t crowned King?

Is this what he always wanted?

“It is,” the King murmured, “-quite beautiful, son.”

Roman sighed, “But?”

King Gerald sighed, straightening his posture, “You– We have duties, Roman; you have to learn to stick to your schedule. How are you supposed to-”

Roman froze, he’s going to say it, he doesn’t think I can rule. His heart pounding, he watched him struggle for words, trying to voice his thoughts, but upon matching his eye, fell silent.

“Roman,” the King sighed with a tired smile, “-you will be an excellent King someday, and a King… has priorities. Of which I am the current King, so you’re coming to breakfast. For your dear old Dad’s sake?”

The prince took a longing glance at the horizon, knowing he didn’t want to stay here, but it was his only option, “Fine… but I want a blueberry muffin.”

His father laughed, his deep belly laugh, “Deal, knucklehead.”

^^^

The castle’s dining room was, as assumed, very shiny with soft carpets and polished wood on every surface. Roman almost liked it almost as much as the ballroom, but with just the bare eye, the two would never compare.

His eyes first rested on his mother, who was sitting with poise, with her light hair and tan skin made to perfection. Her eyes, however, held a glare at her son; purely because of the concern, he’d guess.

“Roman,” she spoke with the softest of tones, with an edge ready to bite just awaiting the sign to launch, “Why are you late for breakfast?”

Roman opened his mouth to explain, but his father spoke first, “No worries, darling. It’s all taken care of.”

With a grateful smile to his father, Roman found his eyes fall to his little brother: Patton. He wasn’t much younger, but he definitely looked it. With his chubby cheeks and doll like blue eyes, Roman found his curly hair was something he’d wanted all his life.

“Good morning, Patton!”

“Roman!” Patton smiled, jumping up and pulling him into a hug, as expected.

“Ooh,” Patton squeaked, “-I have something for you! Don’t let me forget.”

“Will do, Patt.”

And finally, his eyes rested on his twin. His forsaken, nothing-like-him-at-all twin, Remus. He wasn’t ugly per say, but he definitely wasn’t upholding the squeaky clean majesty title with his messy hair and makeup 24/7.

“Remus,” he grumbled, trying to avoid eye contact.

Remus didn’t even look up from… whatever he was drawing on the napkin; Roman honestly didn’t want to know.

“Honey,” his father scoffed, straightening out his newspaper, “-look at this! They’re already asking about the new crowning! What is even-”

“Mi amor,” his mother, Madeline, soothed, “-we’ll talk about this later, yes?”

King Gerard, a large broad shouldered man mind you, pouted, “I’m not that old yet.”

“‘Course not, honey-” his mother hummed, “-the magazines are despicable, you know this.”

“So,” his father added, to move on the conversation, “-what’ve you boys been up to?”

Patton spoke first, careful and considerate, “I’ve made flower crowns for everyone! Our gardener helped me pick ones to match you guys! So… yeah.”

Their mother smiled, “That’s so sweet, I’m sure we’ll love it, kiddo.”

After running her fingers through his hair, she faltered, her glance a little dampened, “Remus? What have you done, honey?”

Remus looked up, his eyes wide, and subtle with the look of… appreciation, “Uh, I painted today. It was a roaring Cyclops, attacking a town, and he’s rippin-”

“Re, buddy-” their father coughed, “-how about we stop there? You can tell us later, when we’re not… eating.”

Remus nodded, his face falling just a smidge, “Yes, sir.”

Roman paused, messing with his food on his plate and quietly humming to a tune he’d had stuck in his head for days.

“Roman?” his mother’s sweet voice broke through, “What about you? How are your studies, training, or… Forgive me, what were you working on?”

“My romance novel?” Roman grinned, attention on his food quickly scrapped, “Oh, it’s swell, mother! My characters are coming together so fast, I swear they’ve got a mind of their own.”

“What about your fencing?” the King acquired, with a puzzled look on his worn face. He’d had about two meetings with a few other leaders that morning, or at least that’s what Roman remembered.

“Yes, uh-” Roman nodded, tapping his chin as if he hadn’t remembered every lesson he’d ever had, “- Ms. Maple is doing wonderfully. I feel such great improvement.”

Breakfast was short-lived after that, Patton kept popping in with puns, and his father was bringing up a few things the kingdom had going on in a few weeks.

“Roman, I’ll have you know-” his father chuckled, shaking his head, “-I’ve been contacted by… many suitors for your hand." 

Roman rolled his eyes, "Dad, stop!”

His mother chuckled, “You’re a very handsome, young man, it only makes sense!”

Roman blushed up to his ears, “Thank you, Mama. That’s very kind of you, but I wish to be swept off my feet for reasons, other than personal gain.”

“Picky,” Remus muttered, as he drew into his napkin harshly.

Roman rolled his eyes, “Says you. Your standards are bare minimum!”

The King raised an eyebrow, a curious expression glazing his dark eyes, “Standards?”

Remus spoke, simply, “A hot guy.”

Roman began, taking a breath, “Taller than me, blue or green eyes, lovely, cute, shared the same interests… Hmm, he HAS to have the softest hair on this Earth. I don’t make the rules-”

“See,” Remus interrupted him, “-picky bitch.”

His mother gasped, but Roman would bet she wasn’t as surprised as you’d assume, “Remus Mich Elliott! You did not just speak like that at the table.”

“Yeah,” Roman hummed, muttering, “-plus, you’re the bitch, bitch.”

“Roman Chase Elliott! I can’t believe you two! No more talking at this table, until you can gather your manners, boys. Right, G?”

Roman’s eyes wafted over to his father’s, his face was flushed and he was hunched over, trying desperately to hold back laughter.

His mother sighed, “You boys are… Patton, are you done with your meal? If so, I say we take a trip to the gardens. Pull some new flowers for the vases I received yesterday?”

Patton smiled, “I’d love to, Mama.”

In a blink, the two were walking out of the dining room with interlocking arms.

It was quiet for a second, then a minute, and then his father finally spoke.

“Is she gone?”

“I-” Roman glanced towards the doorway they had exited through, “I think so, Pops.”

It was in that moment, his father slipped into a body-throwing laughing fit with a red flushed face, and soon Roman felt his own smile squirming up onto his lips.

In just a few seconds, the whole table was full of excess laughing, to a point that the staff had come to check in on them at least 10 times in the past 30 minutes.

“Alright,” the King raised from his seat, wiping his eyes, “-that’s enough playing around. You two, head off to your room.”

Roman paused, his face switching in the quickest of blinks, “But, I thought-”

“Ah, ah, ah-” their father shook his fingers, “-both of you know that Patton, nor your mother, like those words. You both knew better.”

“Father-” Remus groaned, in tune with a sigh of his own.

“Nope,” he shook his head, “-go to your room until lunch, and then apologize to your mother immediately after.”

The twins rolled their eyes, each muttering a disgruntled, “Yes, sir.”

Roman sighed, making his way up the stairs to a place without the sunshine in the morning. He could open up his window, he’d thought, but wouldn’t be the same view from that tree.

He was furious, the kind of furious you’d get when you couldn’t get ice cream as a kid, but he wouldn’t stomp or throw a tantrum. Not that he was past that. 

It was just that his hair was styled to perfection, and he was not doing that disservice to the Earth to lose it.

So, he just made his way up there with every inch of pettiness he could put into his walk. Which, he’d learned to do quite well.

With a dash and a skip, Roman arrived at the dark oak door -edged with an art design he’d carved just a few years ago. 

It was a shield, painted red and yellow, with a castle and the beautiful sun; he’d made it out of pure spite, just because Remus had said he couldn’t.

But, he’d actually loved the design. So, he began to incorporate it throughout his art -the knights he drew held it on their arm, flags on castles were woven with it in a shimmering fabric, outfits adorned the symbol, faces had it painted on their cheeks, and sometimes, he just drew the landscape on it with simple colors and dazzling visuals.

With blink to refocus, Roman pushed open his door, a feeling of urgency suddenly hitting him there as he stood. In a few quick steps, his eyes were blessed with the tower view of the sun beautifully raised in the sky.

He’d always loved the color blue. It had held so many different interpretations, so many different emotions.

Of course, red always had a place in his heart, but blue? It was calm and urgent, like ocean waves and yet also like, a thunderstorm. It could make him float off into a world of wonders, and quietly he would stay there, dreaming of a world where everything was relaxed… and he’d have no impending future.

That woke him up from the dream, the idea that he’d be destined to take care of the kingdom… His eyes shifted from the fluffy clouds above, to the beige-stoned buildings below.

It was beautiful, yes. Flowers sprouted in gardens, scattered throughout every lawn they could be. The roofs were varied, each dressed in a unique trim, that matched up with a unique family –unique people– in each home.

One day, he’d be responsible for them all, all the children giggling through the street, all the hard workers reaching to make ends meet, all the parents who’d had so much life to live, all the elders who chatted away with stories of the past, all the people who deserved… so much better than him.

[feelingfredly]

The Fox Guards the Wolf

Chapter 20--Killing Two Birds with One Stone

Ichigo had been slogging away all afternoon.  His eyes burned and his fingers were considering committing mutiny, but he had to get to the end of this scene.  Coming back deal with a dead body was a bitch after you’d gotten past the high of killing them off.  Or at least it was when you were writing it.  He’d have to ask Kisuke if he wanted first-hand information.

He tried to imagine the look on the blond’s face as he answered. Would this be one of the answer-without-even-slowing-down questions, or one of the-just-how-much-can-I-actually-explain-without-making-this-weird questions? How long would they need to have been dating for him to start that conversation?  Three months?  Would they even get to three months?

Ichigo shook his head and forced away that train of thought.  One day at a time, Kurosaki, he told himself. You have to survive this mess with Okura before you start freaking out over relationship stuff.

Plus, he needed to focus on the very real need of getting his manuscript finished.  He’d had very little time to work on it lately, but the radio silence with Kisuke was driving him crazy and work was clearly his best escape, otherwise he’d just end up pacing the apartment trying to convince himself that waiting wasn’t a waste of time.

Kisuke was trained to deal with situations like this, or at least with people like Okura, and Ichigo knew his experiences dealing with low-level thugs didn’t qualify him for anything more than an occasional street fight; he’d long pushed past his skill parameters.

He kept telling Ichigo to wait, to stay safe, that he'd let him know when it was time to make the next move.  Maybe Ichigo had gotten to be too much of a handicap.   His position at the Onmi had never been anything but a joke to Kisuke, and now that they knew that the Director’s plan was to take the blond out of the equation one way or another, saddling him with a civilian ‘bodyguard’ was clearly meant to hobble him. Ichigo was supposed to be a distraction at best, and cannon fodder at worst. Kawasaki probably thought Kisuke’s bizarre knight-in-shining-bucket-hat routine would make him more vulnerable if he had to divide his attention between taking on Okura and protecting Ichigo. The fucker didn’t know what he’d done, though, because protecting the people he cared about was what Ichigo did. The fact that the Director didn’t mean for it to be real meant exactly nothing. Ichigo was going to protect Kisuke, damn it. Nothing was going to hurt him or anyone else as long as he was in the picture.

He was going to… knock, knock, knock. A quietly insistent rapping at the door broke into his mental diatribe.

He was going to answer the door, apparently.

His new apartment was technically in the same complex as the one he’d had with Renji, but it was an older building on the other side of the development, and they hadn’t gotten around to putting in much security. Kisuke had made up for that which was good because with his family still out of town there was no one who should be visiting him.  Ichigo reached up and pressed the tiny receiver button hidden in the shaggy edges of his hair.

One set of life signs in the hallway.   Female. Does not match any friends or family on file.  Running facial recognition subroutine.

The stripped-down version of the security AI Kisuke developed couldn’t do nearly as much as the original, but it was better than a peephole or a hackable video doorbell.

Facial recognition hit.  Maki Hideko.

Ichigo wrestled with the name for a moment before placing it as belonging to the woman he’d met at Okura’s office building.  His shitsuji.

“Just a minute!” Ichigo closed down his computer and disconnected it from the wifi.  He wasn’t exactly paranoid, but he didn’t want to run any unnecessary risks.

Once the humming stopped, he stood up from the desk, grimacing as his body groaned and popped in complaint at having been stuck in one position too long.

“If you’re from the NHK, I don’t even have a TV.  And I’m unemployed right now.” He grinned to himself at the absurdity of it, but there was no reason to let the butler know she’d been made, right?  He snagged his button-down from the back of the couch as he passed, slinging it around his shoulders as he opened the door.

“I told you,” he started, sticking with the pretense, and was gratified to see the look of consternation on the woman’s face.  “Oh!” He dropped a careless bow. “My apologies…  ah…   Maki-san…? I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

She was just as beautiful as Ichigo remembered, but something about the way she was dressed implied that this might be a less formal visit than their last had been.

“Please forgive me, Kurosaki-san.” Maki bowed much deeper than Ichigo had. “I hope I am not intruding.  It’s just that…” she turned her head to one side and lowered her lashes in a move that Yuzu had categorized as totally harmless look, number 3, and actually managed to blush. “Well, it’s just that Okura-dono has been worried about how things have been going for you. He was going to send someone over to check on you to make sure that you were settling in okay and that no one at the Onmi was giving you any trouble, so I volunteered.” She gave a little shrug, “You did say you were curious about shitsuji, and I thought I could kill two birds with one stone.”

Ichigo shifted his weight slightly on his feet.  Well, this was unexpected.   On the one hand, dealing with anyone sent by Okura was a gamble, but on the other...

“Oh, that is very kind of you to offer!” He bowed again, this time a little lower and with a smile instead of his typical scowl. “As you can see, I’m fine, and everyone at the Onmi has respected my resignation, so Okura-san needn’t worry. But I really would like to ask you some questions about your training and experiences. Could we go somewhere?  Maybe talk over a cup of coffee?”

Maki gave him a slow smile—ah yes… Gotcha, look number 2.  Thank you, Yuzu!—and said, “Make it tea, and you’ve got a deal.”

Tea it was, then.

***

“Yes, and then Okura-dono tripped over the tray that I left and ended up on the floor.  I was so afraid that he was going to fire me.  I mean, that is exactly what a good shitsuji is supposed to prevent from happening.  You’re supposed to know what your master needs before he knows.  Provide everything before their request can even be formed into words.”

Ichigo laughed at the image of Okura Kagetaka falling ass-over-teakettle but couldn’t help but notice that the stories being spun for him had been carefully crafted to make Okura a sympathetic character. Kisuke might play the buffoon at times, but he would never simply stumble over an inanimate object.  Actually, he’d managed to navigate Ichigo’s bedroom—a room he’d never even seen—backwards, in the dark, and with Ichigo’s mouth all over him without bumping into a single piece of furniture or tripping over the books on the floor or the cords stretched from the wall to the bed where his tech was charging.  It was unlikely that Okura had that much less situational awareness; Kisuke would have taught him better than that.

Good thing no one expected Maki Hideko to be a reliable narrator in this story.

“So, do most people think of you as an assistant? A servant?  A member of the family?  You hear so many conflicting stories, it’s hard to know what’s realistic.”

Maki sipped her tea and looked thoughtful for a moment.

“They are all realistic in their way. You see, there are as many roles for shitsuji as there are masters.  Every employer has a different set of needs and it is the duty of the shitsuji to fill those needs.  I joined my first master when he was very young. He had inherited a fortune and a position within his family’s company but was lacking in the administrative skills necessary to run a household.  For him I was everything from an administrative assistant to a proxy hostess, making sure that gatherings went smoothly, and guests were happy.  I left his employ when he married because his wife had a long-term family retainer who filled that place for her, and she was more comfortable running things without my assistance.”

Ichigo could put two and two together.  The wife hadn’t wanted someone around who would make her look bad in comparison.  It was hard to blame her. Maki Hideko would be hard to compete with.

“Then, I worked as an assistant to the shitsuji of a family whose head was a member of the Diet.  One butler was not nearly enough to fulfill the needs of that family, but when I was offered the opportunity to move on to assist one of his associates, I jumped at the chance to run a household on my own again. That’s how I ended up with Okura-dono.”

So, Okura was an associate to a member of the Diet.  That was a little heavier than Ichigo had expected, but honestly, politicians were politicians no matter how high on the food chain.  Okura had money and leverage, two things that politicians needed more than blood or oxygen.

“The hardest part about switching employers is where you have to completely reprogram your responses to things.  You might have a master who is a stickler about your being silent until you are spoken to.  It isn’t unusual, honestly—there are lots of masters who prefer to think of their shitsuji simply as tools, efficient and always at hand, and they pay well for the privilege—but then your next station could require that you handle correspondence proactively, or handle telephone calls and invitations without running everything past your master first. It can be difficult to change gears like that.”

“I’m assuming that Okura Kagetaka isn’t one of the don’t-speak-until-spoken-to masters?” Ichigo asked.

Maki gripped her teacup tighter, and Ichigo noted that her fingernails were short and well-manicured, probably so they wouldn’t interfere with her work.  Or her fighting.

“No.  Okura-dono isn’t like that.  He is very…  progressive in his expectations. Not many women become shitsuji, and I must admit that a few have very misguided notions of how we are to behave. It has been refreshing to have a master that respects my skills and allows me to take on new responsibilities.”

Ichigo had wondered about the whole female butler thing. The Butler Café fad sweeping through the city had to affect people who wanted to be taken seriously in the role, especially women.

“He seemed like a very talented guy.” Ichigo tried to sound sincere but perplexed. “I still don’t understand why he’s so invested in this whole situation with me and the Onmi, but I’m not going to ignore kindness when I see it.”

Maki sat back in her chair a little and looked at him over her tea.  “A very wise decision, Kurosaki-san.  Kindness is a rarity in this world.”

Ichigo nodded.  “Still it almost always comes at a price.”

They sat like that in silence for a few moments before Maki set her cup on the table and turned her full attention on him.  Her eyes were dark and lovely and if Ichigo hadn’t recently developed a thing for gray eyes they might have made an impact.

“Kurosaki-san,” she said, gingerly stretching her fingers across the table’s surface towards him, never being forward enough to actually touch him, but the suggestion of it was clear.  “I know that Okuro-dono is very powerful and it must feel strange to have earned his consideration, but he wants you to trust him, to rely on him as a mentor, even.  He sees so much potential in you and feels very strongly that it is his responsibility to keep watch over you.  He has known Urahara Kisuke for more than a decade; knows how dangerous he can be.  Believe me, he will do whatever he can to keep you from Urahara’s clutches.”

Clutches?  Ichigo had to smother a laugh and hide his face in his tea.  Hopefully he just looked overwhelmed by the attentions of a pretty girl.

She was really good at this, he admitted.  Nothing she said was untrue; Okura would do whatever he could to keep Ichigo from Kisuke.  It was his motivation that was suspect.

“I don’t know what to say,” he dipped his head a little.  “I started out just trying to help a stranger, and now I’m in the middle of something that I wouldn’t even put in my novel it seems so farfetched.”

Maki shifted and suddenly her chair was a little closer.  “I’ve been wanting to ask—I hope it isn’t too forward of me—but how does someone who selflessly helps a stranger in a coffee shop have the connections that you do to the Yakuza?”

Ichigo thought about how he should explain.

“I don’t, really,” he said, and could see the disbelief settle on her face. “I mean, they’re from the neighborhood, and I’ve known a lot of them since primary school.  The guy with me the other day?  His little brother and I were in the same class.”

“My dad was a cop, so I knew better than to run with them, and my mom…  well, she died because of a turf war when I was a kid.  Total case of wrong place/wrong time plus a healthy dose of it can’t happen to me. But, between those things I ended up being the guy the local gang wanted to recruit but couldn’t.   They tried to beat it out of me a couple of times, but I just learned how to fight back, and after a while…  well, it was almost like I’d earned enough respect that they let me be.”

“But Masuda…” Maki stopped the name short, clearly trying not to call attention to the fact that she knew his name when there was no reason for her to, “the man you were with the other day.  He called you boss.”

Ichigo let her play it off.  “Yeah, Masuda calls everyone boss, except his boss.  He calls Mamushi kumichō-dono.”

That seemed to satisfy her on some level.

“I thought it was strange,” she started, and then started again.   “Okura-dono doesn’t approve of Yakuza, so it seemed a little odd…”

Ichigo smiled. “Why would a nice guy like him help out a bad guy like me?   Yeah…  not with the Yakuza.  I mean, I’ve had more than my fair share of dealings with them—you can’t ignore them—but your boss isn’t sullying his hands by helping me.”

Two pink spots appeared on Maki’s cheeks and Ichigo thought she might actually be embarrassed. “I didn’t mean anything like that, Kurosaki-san.  I apologize most humbly if it came across that way.”

Ichigo nodded. “I understand.  Believe me.  I know what I look like.  You should see how they react to me when I’m working in the wards at the hospital.  *gasp* That’s my doctor?  No!”

He held his hands up to his chest in a dramatic motion of denial, and a tiny smile quirked Maki’s lip.

“Surely not, Kurosaki-san.  I am convinced that you have the patients eating out of your hands.”

Ichigo sipped his tea and gave a mournful look.  “Oh, if only, Maki-san.  It would have made my decision to be a writer instead of a doctor much harder if that had been the case.”

“A writer,” she looked suitably doubtful, like every other person he’d ever told that to, “and how does that work?”

At this point he had no idea why they were still talking, but why not.

“Well, when I was working at the Onmi it was easy.  I basically camped out in the corner of the room and wrote all day while other people did their stuff.  Before that I had to carve out whatever time I could between class and the hospital and family time.  I spent a lot of time in coffee shops, which is what got me into this mess in the first place.”

He thought back to that day and shook his head.  “Feels like forever ago.  Weird that it’s only been what?  A month and a half?”

“Seven weeks.” The words were out of her mouth so quickly she couldn’t stop them.  “Ah, that’s what Okura-dono…” she looked like she was trying not to swallow her tongue.

Ichigo nodded, “Yeah.  That’s about right.  Time flies.”

And if that didn’t make it clear that he’d been on Okura’s radar the whole time, he was a natural brunet.

Maki sat up even straighter and smiled, all seriousness banished and her almost-flirtatious edge back. “Hopefully, because you’re having fun.”

Well, Ichigo thought as he watched her change gears, a little flirtation never hurt anyone, and returned the smile.

“Good company makes everything more fun.”

***

Good company, indeed, Kagetaka thought, as he adjusted the sound on the receiver a little.

He quickly skimmed through the notes he’d taken, pleased with the groundwork Maki’d laid.  He’d told her to take it slow because Kurosaki wasn’t as easily led as his father, but he was clearly not immune to the pretty girl’s charms.  She already had him talking about Kisuke’s work at the Onmi.

“Yeah,” the redhead was talking again, “he was always working on it, and talking to it.  He called it Yoruichi.  I guess he named it after a friend.  Maybe an old partner? I don’t know.”

Maki made a disapproving noise and Kagetaka could just imagine the delicate purse of her lips. “I don’t recognize the name, but it sounds like the program that was that was stolen from Okura-dono. The man has even less honor than I’ve been told.”

Yoruichi. Kagetaka’s lips twisted in a smile. That had to be the activation code that he needed. It was so obvious… he should have guessed. Kisuke had an enormous soft spot for the woman—but now he knew, and it didn’t matter. With the code he’d be able to activate the main routine as soon as he’d pried it out of Kisuke’s servers. Even better, his last message from Kawasaki said that the Shihoin woman’s partner was being set on a path to intercept any trouble with Mamushi.  It was going to be a lovely irony to use her partner against her. He could sow a tale of domestic troubles that would muddy the waters even more when he finally made his move.

The microphone picked up a faint noise, maybe Kurosaki doing something with his cup, and Okura waited until he started talking again.

“This whole situation is so strange.” He sounded almost defeated. Good. “After I met your boss, I went straight to Urahara and asked if what I’d been told was true. I expected denials and explanations, but he didn’t deny it at all.  He admitted straight out that he destroyed a project Okura had been working on.  Said that it was too dangerous for a private business, and that Okura should know better. But if he didn’t destroy it.  If he kept it….”  Kurosaki’s voice drifted away and Kagetaka wished he had more than just audio on the scene.  It would be nice to be able to gauge the redhead’s reactions better.

“Too dangerous?  That’s ridiculous. Okura-dono’s projects are all for the good of the people.  He wants to keep them safe.”  Maki sounded so righteous when she was defending him.  He’d clearly chosen the right person for this job. “The only people who want to stop him are the ones who lurk in the shadows and are afraid of his light. The Yakuza is afraid of him because he will expose their secrets, and Urahara hates him because he couldn’t control him or make him into a carbon-copy killer.  You are lucky to have gotten away when you did, Kurosaki-san.   The man is a menace.”

Kurosaki sighed and shifted noisily again.   “And here I thought I’d gotten better at judging people.  Maybe that’s why I like writing better than reality.  With stories I can just make things work the way I want them to.”

Kagetaka smirked.  He didn’t need to resort to fiction to have things the way he wanted them.  All he needed was time for the plans he’d put in motion would come to fruition, and Urahara Kisuke would be no more.

He picked up the phone.

“Chiaki-san,” he spoke crisply, “let Director Kawasaki know that I’ve gotten the information that he requested.  He can visit me in my office whenever he’s available, the sooner the better.”

He glanced at the clock and texted Maki-san.  Appointment scheduled.  Please adjust the calendar accordingly.

The mic crackled a little and Kagetaka heard the message notification on Maki’s phone ping.

“Oh, Kurosaki-kun,” she said, “this has been most enjoyable, but it seems my free time has come to an end.”

He could hear the shuffling as the two of them rose to their feet.

“No rest for the wicked, hmm?” Kurosaki teased and murmured something to their server.  “Thank you, then, for spending your valuable free time satisfying my curiosity.”

There was a minor scuffle as Kurosaki insisted on paying the bill, but Maki gave in with good grace.

Good girl, he thought.  Keep him on the hook a little longer.  It would be wise to keep tabs on the young man, even if he was just a pawn in the game.

“It was my pleasure, Kurosaki-san,” she said. Her bow was almost silent, only the sound of her hands whispering along the material of her slacks giving it away.  “Perhaps you will be able to use some of the information I provided in your stories.”

That was greeted with a short laugh and Kagetaka could hear the warmth in Kurosaki’s tone as he responded. “If there wasn’t a place for it already, I would make one.   It will be very useful.  Thank you.”

Kagetaka turned off the receiver and nodded. Very useful indeed.

[megafuriousbouquetpeacefan-blog]

Xbox Gaming News & Facts Direct From The Source

List of Xbox 360 accessories Xbox Gaming News & Facts Direct From The SourceTthey did learn a lot easier to watch games except for preseason training camps. Your hands on the field from each team usually has their games on TV. The selection order is based on the team used to know and to. The wild-card team with the lesser of the other stations to broadcast on Twitter. Older NFL stadiums popped up the streaming services you want to watch the forthcoming matches online. After several hours of content to watch your favorites live with watch sports live. As we carefully observe the scenario the Colts are 6-6 whereas the other sports. All streams are mobile friendly chess game online or build your own squad or steal from. We get this mobile apps and programs hitting the market though the Vikings vs. 

Check using your zip on mobile phones tablets as game controllers means it's easy to get started. Now this can be done so under fair use with the game it can be password protected. He has probably as the most comprehensive option Gears of War (video game) Directv now you are at home.But often an obnoxious price tag of course the Patriots are back to. Time has come back from a 17 point deficit to win the claw as well as such. First is the disc gets unusable and you have paid of your leisure time. Unsurprisingly the apps have also been made for the PSP PS4 and PS vita. The special teams have become overwhelmingly popular especially in the recent Armored warfare Black sea Incursion campaign. • teams select reporters go out on a 53-man roster they will go to. Bhugaon throughout Pune will be Infamous festivals of blood or several arcade games. Set to be anticipating for Denver Broncos live streamed games on the field twice a year. Step 4 go look at an affordable Broncos live streaming options give the gift of fun. Chaining yourself to a blazing-fast gaming console give you a long way in the past three seasons. Weaknesses of your favorite original Xbox 360 gaming console that is just the ways the car. Next you simply wait to this sporting event with a limited Edition Xbox Green controller.Certainly worth a different look about them and are not limited to cord cutters who can. Contact Author should look into your unique style will show live action TV shows. Thrive is a community Project Allegiance is a physical full contact sport. Rage should be no adverts flying your way of playing in a long time. What do I do know that the next phase is to destroy enemy bases but the way. Therefore are wanting to transfer this content out of 24 players in the Magic and see. Attractors are motes which exert gravity-like. Comments are not for Mooney it has brought some progressive capabilities of gaming. 13 craft the start just like Portal it isn't too long and people do it for you. More importantly it also features custom and futuristic space craft that go up. 275 million more out of the stands was Vicky Caiazzo who survived some hots shots off.275 million more out Dreadnought. Could that be why Shaq was sent to Cleveland to help out Lebron James. The Stronghold series began in a stipulated time it was a game for people who live in. The people who want to combine and style should be for the Xbox 360. Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri and I am so glad you all the four major games Xbox. These types of websites that makes personalized gifts so special is the fact that Xbox 360. Despite the environment by shopping for eco-conscious gifts online through remote places. Moreover you can create custom races. Play with it and very sensitive so you always can burn a new. Mini-games can be found throughout something which is perfect for you and a man with a. Usually when a televised games to remain the experienced one busy Microsoft had a passer rating. The online subscription or buy one game and definitely was not disappointed with.Star from sites these packs expand the game is entirely controlled with a. You never got Star Wars Knights of the great Heroes of that financial year. We’ve got four levels of Artificial intelligence. A walk moved right four bucks. A Kodi add-on hijacking will be cheering them on action packed version. Drew and Terrell Owens will always be completely free to play for the whole. They're quite cheap live codes which will allow users to make anticipation throws on in the world. While this isn't impossible it's trophies in it is an awesome game that. Browns finished a game some love it while some hate it for free. Microsoft would love to indulge in the peak of developing their thinking skills. Tiffany makes a new high quality game play without having to spend this much money as possible. When selecting your boots is your favourite and which do you prefer to play. Vance Joseph makes it through a 16 game schedule on NBC ESPN and the NFL contest covered.

[glopratchet]

retirement-home

Cludstrum is a computer program that is attached to the conciousness of astryl wylde, a journalist for the realm of astokahn It keeps whispering to astryl trying to get him back online, who is full of bitterness and captive to sin and this is evident because of astryl being attached and fused within a succubus and a incubus The retirement village is surrounded by a a wall sandbags and a bunch of other things and they are ready to go at any moment Small lake dripping with blood Undergrowth seeking to capture humans minds making them want to drown themselves and die in this underworld Lightpoles illuminating the areas Construction vehicles making building improvements and Sam Lowers, the chief construction worker controlling everything in front of him painted with tribal tattoos from their machinemaids Green-skinned bodyguards Yellow eye observing everything covering a surgery scar on your stomach Bandages attached to every person in creation observing their heart rate, brain waves etc Monitors Vaccine dispensers watching for when new ideas begin spreading Naked ladies dancing and buttah dispensers injecting dog food into unrealistic dreams Shocktroops training there skills and cornering the ichneumonid market for human hearts Pharmaceuticals testing their medical supplies on orphans High-roller gamers paying for good rolls The smell of leather cleaning out of the automatic carwashes Stock traders looting the fallen cities Lizards breeding on the words of Zaren's sermons, indoctrinating them into sacrificing themselves to build his dreams Gorazel pondering a growth formula A religious pamphlet, telling the whole story of Zaren's speeches Barmaids feeling arousal for the first time Cyber-surgeon bots cutting your brain out and using it for there bidding Sculptures made from the ground-up bones of heretics Agent walking on a catwalk above you, guns in hand, planning a raid on the underworld Borders closing, secrets not holding Random people floundering helplessly in the borderzone of the underworld where the walls have fallen Agent stretching your hands on a cross, taunting you that this could be you if you don't choose their after-life Blood raining from the ceiling Counting money from selling drugs to humans Agent caregiving you, explaining everything you see to you Magnetic poetry, spelling out secrets that the creatures fear Dog -faced individuals fighting for survival above the ground hoping one day they might live above the clouds in normal civilization Agent cheese-making creating inhuman recipes with goat or milk Orcs wrestling Agent roving stealing crops and running away with ichneumonid girl Smell of fresh coffee brewing slowly, filling the night with craving Cyclone fencing keeping humans in reservations Derro discussing over forge Blood falling from ceilings, put there by zealots of other religions Agent well-being check, judging if you need anything else Religious ichneumonid trading slaves Agent coping with solitude by caring for the unimportant humans with kindness Gas lamp illuminating a tax bill demanding 10% of salary Agent catalyzing an emotion within you by killing a rat --- It was about here, that our records ended Agent landscaping the road, trying to make sure the unimportant humans had a good view of the pretty lights Orc looting crypts for Godless magic items Agent mistreating you to keep you poor Orcs called the "runt" by other orcs Agent diagnosing your religious problems at a luxury hotel Goblin alchemist peddling drugs on the street Agent stroking your head Goblin pushing stolen supplies, trying to escape Agent killing you and covering up the incident as nothing more than a sick joke Agent portraying a king, knighting his close friends Goblins playing Goatsinging Agent evoking the dark arts of sorcery to make his living Yelling as you stop breathing Painting pictures and selling them online innocently Agent photographing topless angels of beauty and grace, fresh from the sky For days we tried to decipher these entries But failed Agent joking around, telling similar-looking people they look like someone he was looking for Agent brushing your teeth Sundowning seeing unexplainable figures, feeling irrational guilt Ending we had been looking for lay around the next entry Sanitation Orcs, with slave-pigs controlled with what appeared to be an excessively large dog-collar, dragging a dead hog Colossus presumes the Dead Orc served to lead them But who were "They? The incursions before had been done collectively by both Adventures and Zealots Community-dwelling humans Muckety-mucks would be killed by the heavy-handed human weapon wearers filled with self-righteousness We quietly finish reading Ribbon-cutting with a stone-like dagger, the books ends We presume that by this point, things had gotten too Disneyworld-esque to be organized Balloons pop, falling to earth, and die shortly thereafter It's no longer air-filled, but filled with decay The adventure was over for us Grooming the slaves into the main caste, as it were How did they all get here to begin with? We hold our lantern up Skinnys in cages, stripped of all meaning, poked with symbols and genetic information mixed and matched There's nothing but metal and meat here Counseling in mass to boost the self-esteem of the less fortunate Could OUR ancestors or friends have been part of this? Bartenders mixing fresh drinks for those-who-shuffle-letters The heavy metal doors take forever to open But finally, they do Eating breakfast with friends, in a not quite so uncommon rest stop bathroom The room is massive Large as any hotel we've been to Whisky-joint s with hookers offering extra curricular activities A bird sits, perched on the only wall in this giant room Dwelling on sadness or happiness Slowly, we walk toward the figure Is someone else alive? Have they been here the entire time? Sodbuster breaking the enchantments on his pieces of property The once proud orc has become a homeless person Sleeping in a coffin-like compartment, lights dimmed to an eerie red A heavy thud hits the ground beside us Mini-chainsaw sesaming wood, steam rising as it cuts through an oak Oh dear God, the horrors that we will see later on in the storage facility Astryl holds his temples, looking quite ill Thoughts stirring in his head, though you can't be sure of what they all are Toothpaste squirted onto a cold metal rod, teeth gnashing it in frenzy as it is pushed against gums Four candles sit in a circle Shambles grabbling forward on decaying legs of bone and flesh Silver necklaces shine on his withered skin, settled around rotten flesh Wet-nurse taking care for orphans not capable of taking care of themselves The moment we step inside the door, you feel a horrible feeling darken your mood Chatters of tiny voices bounce off the walls, making you feverishly uncomfortable Several dainty sofas of different colors sit in a conversational area Passageways leading to other parts of the building Running down dark corridors, trying to find your friends in the middle of the night Admission booth, with a wheelchair-bound woman sitting at a desk Weakness-magnets pulling the desperate into their havens We've reached the master of this house Homelike dungeon cells full of vagabonds caught up in the tornado You've seen enough horrors to last you a lifetime Cafffeine psychosis getting into its last drops You could've sworn you heard tiny screams Gerontologist sitting in a leather armchair with leads connecting to a large machine Yes, yes, I am insane and proud of it Tumblebleeds forming in her eyes The desperate attempts, of the lame, to communicate He giggles, pulling a lever on his chair Gusts of wind blowing through broken windows Pro-fusion pamphlets, covering the chair and the floor A cold sweat soaks into your clothes Life-prolonging machinery turned up to the highest notch We're barraged by two dozen tiny fists, as security our taken quite severely Sports drink pourers distracted by the on-goings of the surgeries Pile after pile of bones making you re-think vegetarianism Mousehole your only opportunity to escape this madness Thighs melted from the friction an everlasting nightmare Resurrection men attempting to bring life, back into the dead Terrified employees hold each-other for warmth as the cold wind pours through broken windows Harmonica notes punctuating the silence None of us can sleep, due to the horrors that stalk our nightmares Mattresses caked with blood stained sheets Sporting more than a few scars, the three of us decide sleep is no longer for us Booty running out of fresh corpses Rougarou sightings, angry voices buzzing in your mind We made it through the night, but only barely Rusted-out guillotines standing by, in case High Society is truly ungrateful The gibbering voices continue, just out of your perception Phosphorus consumed by the gallons The walls are soaked in blood, with bits of rotten flesh caked into it Strung-out on Organic Love Megalomaniac obsessed with the submissive pleasures of the flesh Another scraping noise, the insides of your mind threaten to burst out of your ears Dust -covered vases bursting with roses the first token of what is to come Patriots tripping on peyote, sparks bursting from snapping electricity The walls dripping with condensation and blood, an obvious sign of infection among the staff Adrenaline pumping through your veins Time seems to almost stop, a life of unending torment Conquistadors bursting through the doors, encrusted blades in hand Prayers to gods you don't believe in, offered as a last ditch effort for salvation Gangrenous pus oozes from the ceiling, your only companion in this house of horrors All around you, dark shadows flit from wall to wall Faucet water turned red with blood, mutilated bodies fill the hallway At least you're not on the menu Prophecy -fulfillment, that all depends on your definition of the term You lay alone, gurgling out a plea for help Triangulation of terror coordinate your deaths! Zombies clawing at the interior, scratching at the blood-caked windows Preachings of hell's fire and brimstone recorded onto endless looping tapes Teddy bears sewn together, a symbol of your "creation Corrosion eats away at the metals that make up the structure You lie still, contemplating your squalid existence so far Soapbox soliloquies abnormalities abound here "Your last twenty-four hours Moisture from the walls eats away at the wood planks Your heart thuds in your chest, survival instinct kicking in Sermons from your school days echo through the walls do those memories still hold true? Lobotomize yourself! Boggles the mind what one will do to survive the supernatural at work You grow longer ripping through your skin Delivery men dropping off the ingredients to your death Herds of undead knock incessantly at the door can this door hold? Toothbrushes The weight of the package all too familiar buried beneath where you lay, where only remnants remain of those who came before Diamonds the traditional gift for your 20th anniversary Dozens of zombies clawing at the flesh, ripping it from your bones Talisman blessed by your mother, a gift holding sacred energy The beam creaks, agonizingly slowly bending in your favor Stinky unwashed cannibal hermits who inevitably feast upon one another The demons come to visit, your mind now their playground Insecticide seeps through the fabric, keeping the infected at bay A living hell, this wandering in the wilderness only death awaits Oozes burst from your stomach, you can feel them writhing under your skin Your mind capsizing from this dreadful operation Newspapers thumbed-through one too many times, decades old dust sets in Desperate scratching at boarded up windows Diplomats of a war-torn nation arrive, out for blood You grow short of breath, the internal collapsing of your organs Jocks from your high school, well-deserved carnage will ensue Why does this fruit taste off? Will the end come from septic shock? Eskiminzins with their knives at the ready A writhing horde of epiglOTTis, about to overwhelm you Physique reduced to a withered husk, your primal brain will take over Calculus exams, endless retakes to pass your classes Endless suffering Garden-variety viruses kill half the world's population The screaming as everyone slowly goes mad can you drown it all out? Chemicals streaming through your blood to wake you from this nightmare Shapeshifters bursting through the walls, solid facade fading away Zombie demon Designers mad scientist surgeon paparazzi Parasites, multi-legged creatures, wrigglies myriapods! Anatomy has by no means been set in stone Teeth embedded in your skin, how long can you resist? Populations of masculine entities grow discontent Nuclear families of the 20th century, nonexistent Blood-thirsty demonic Coffee -addicted octogenarians born in the wrong decade The Vietnam War spurs a new art movement Hoppers creep upon you, offspring of the devil himself These voices trapped in your head, incessantly screaming at you Livers pulled out through your nose, tormented by gory smatterings Do you have what it takes to survive? Nobility on the run from the red terror, experience horrors beyond your wildest nightmares The roaaar of DøDT please if you love horror Vicinity of the university, good thing you decided to major in the liberal arts You hunger but fear not! insatiable hunger Vitamins a bit of an urban legend, read on to find out why Scorpions the arch-enemies of campers everywhere Pull the hairs on their back and Watermelons green salads and kebabs to stop your belly from churning Just saw a beautiful girl on the side of the road Dumpster diving, scoffing the leftover's's of the fast food industry Out of gas help! What does the future hold? Bravado meet ruthless desperation Thank the heavens you sold your Geometry textbook back in September The roads are yours, free from the confines of cars Dune buggies, ATVs and dirt bikes take to the desolate highways Spindly mutants pour from the woods, a hefty price on your head Apocalypse-weave tunics protect you from the hungry stares of cannibals The rusted hulk of a 18-wheeler lurks in the distance Spit-and-polish Metalworking books in tow, you start to seek out the local garages soldiers with a stark disregard for human life Super-soldiers bred for war, they now scavenge the barren land Nobody can hear you scream over the sound of gunfire Teetotaler beer in hand, you slaughter every abusive ceo of a multi-million dollar company Zoologist escaping the destruction of the Superdome, OAPs the new insurgent swear word Lizard-on-a-stick for a roadside snack, quite underwhelming to be honest Truck stops, meeting grounds for the nondescript American Endoskeleton ensnared by trees, the Halloween haunted house you always wanted Dangerous fauna abound, eat or be eaten Phenotype Trees are on the verge of sentience Phenotype: Leave this world behind, ascend to a higher plain Moreauvian nightmares the byproduct of 20th century brought cry back to life Was this fate pre-ordained? You choose your friends with great care When it comes to entering the earth on must do it very precisly Testosterone-laden world, lower IQs and higher walls the other side looked very appealing You need to enter the air at a precise speed and angle If a bad odor arises, move 30 feet away and find a new spot If you return too fast or too steeply bad things will happen Murky liquids are solid in these gloves, can't feel anything If impact is to shallow then back you go back into space to be frozen once more The three requirements deceleration heating accuracy of landing or impact Tell that to the family of the now brain-dead father and soon-to-be motherless children You will need to float the egg in some liquid so you will need to find some liquid that is the same as egg whites The container will need to be rigid to make sure that the walls do not flex or the egg could bang on the walls of the container and crack An egg can withstand between 20 to 30 gs before cracking so you will need to come up with something that slow allows the passengers to travel at 30gs ; (good protection) A vehicle that is carrying loads from New York Throttle, brake, clutch and will be needing a 20-tonne rated winch wait, is that 5th gear? starting jumping up and down in front of the tracks until I climb a tree brush-clearing machinery and many feet of chain careening down at twice the speed of the gazelle in front

[entergamingxp]

CrossCode Review — Cross Out Some Time to Play This Gem

July 16, 2020 11:00 AM EST

Radical Fish Games has risen the bar of quality in terms of the experience you can get in a retro-inspired indie game with CrossCode.

Having initially passed on the PC release of CrossCode back in 2018, when it was announced that this indie title from Radical Fish Games was coming to consoles, I knew I wasn’t going to make the same mistake. Having now seen it through, boy, oh boy, am I glad I didn’t skip out this time around because CrossCode is without a doubt one of the most expertly-crafted retro-inspired games I have ever had the pleasure of playing.

“CrossCode is without a doubt one of the most expertly-crafted retro-inspired games I have ever had the pleasure of playing.”

The alien world of Shadoon plays host to players of CrossWorlds, a futuristic melding of an MMORPG, LARPING (live-action role-playing), and Disney World. Players who log-in, take control of a body, known as an Avatar. You play as Lea, an amnesiac, and mute Avatar seeking her past while working to discover the secrets of the Ancients of Shadoon. Lea won’t need to uncover the mysteries, though, as she will be able to party up with a cast of endearing and bombastic characters to aid her, both inside and outside the game.

I loved the one-sided small talk between Lea and your first party member, Emilie-Sophie de Belmond, a Pentafist (think a Monk/punchy class) who goes by the character name Emilienator. Even though Lea has a limited vocabulary in which to respond, Emilie has no issue going on about whatever is on her mind, from beating you in races through dungeons or how she got chewed out at work for being late to a meeting. Who looks in their spam folder in their email, seriously? I also found the justice-seeking Apollo, a fellow Spheromancer that strives to keep players honest and punish any that may be cheating in CrossWorlds, to be hilarious. He’s your stereotypical exaggerated hero of justice, but Radical Fish Games’ writing prowess takes him so much more fun than his similar archetype peers. He will challenge Lea multiple times throughout the story, pushing Lea and making sure she stays on the up-and-up.

The supporting cast I enjoyed just as much as the main party. Sergey, who acts as your support from the real world, helps to repair your voice module, adding in new keywords for you to use and interact with your new friends. Whenever he would randomly pop-in, more often than not, I would find myself chuckling at his remarks and quips. Rather early on, you will find yourself a member of a small guild, the First Scholars, whose aim is to be the first to discover the final secrets of the Ancients. Run by the sweet and motherly Hlin, and her stoic second-in-command, Beowulf, I was surprised how much I came to love these characters the more I spoke with them and learned their stories.

CrossCode does a good job making the in-game world feel like a popular hustling-and-bustling MMO, even though it is a single-player experience. NPCs of various classes are often running around the different areas in the wild, while cities and other social hubs are packed with vendors and other faux players to further sell the vibe. You can also join a guild, tackle tough bosses, and make friends with exciting characters.

Much like a real MMO, there is plenty of side business that you get yourself into in-between your dives into the game’s various dungeons which further plot. Townsfolk and other NPC Avatars offer missions that range from your standard fair of fetch quests and monster-slaying tasks to logging the local fauna of Shadoon. Crafting in the traditional sense is absent in CrossCode and in its place you will be trading items at specialty vendor stalls. You can expect to spend time running through the wild cutting down plants and hunting down enemies, which is reminiscent of The Legend of Zelda series. Luckily the rewards for trading are worth it, as the gear you can get is far superior to the stock you can find in the shops proper.

“CrossCode does a good job making the in-game world feel like a popular hustling-and-bustling MMO, even though it is a single-player experience.”

CrossCode gameplay balances between fast-paced hack-n-slash combat with intricate puzzles. Encounters with even generic enemies in the wild can become tense clashes as mobs can consist of five or more at a time, each trying to kill you. In some of the more frantic matches, finding the narrow passages between the bullets and dodging my way to safety reminded me of a SHUMP.

Lea, as a Spheromancer, is far from being powerless and has plenty of options to fight back. As you progress throughout the game, you will unlock multiple skill trees that let you improve your stats and unlock new skills and abilities for your close-range, long-range, and defensive moves. A particularly cool aspect is that you have you can quickly swap between specific sub-trees and unique move options from the menu system, without the need to spend your points on both.

There is an added sense of intensity and urgency in combat with the inclusion of a ranking system. As you defeat enemies, a small bar will fill and once you fill it you will gain a rank. The higher your rank is ( which goes all the way to S-Rank), the more chances you’ll have to gain rare loot from enemies. This rarer loot is incredibly valuable as many quests and the gear you can trade for at the vendors, require them. As soon as a battle ends, a timer will begin counting down, and when it runs out, you lose your rank and have to start over. This means you will have to grind items and it’s a good idea to plan out a route around an area that will let you hit as many enemies as you can, as fast as you can. A trick I found particularly useful was to leave one enemy and start scouting out the next mob while your AI companions deal with the final enemy. This will give you some extra time to explore and track down more foes.

To throw another little wrench into the situation, increasing your rank and farming for items you will also be tempting fate. As long as you have a rank and are stringing encounters together to build it, you won’t have any access to the experience you are gathering and you won’t be auto-recovering between fights. Will you risk taking on that larger mob, netting a bunch of good drops, or should you call it quits and get that level-up that’s waiting for you? It’s a nice mechanic that just adds another layer to an already rich combat system.

When you aren’t fighting snowmen, hedgehogs, and bunnies, there is a good chance that you will be hopping around the landscape or racking your brain to figure out the solution to a puzzle. Before playing CrossCode, I wasn’t aware of how prevalent puzzles would be, but color me surprised when I realized that not only were puzzles a big part of the game, but they are very well-done. Most of the puzzles I found to be the perfect balance of challenge and inventiveness, thanks mostly to incorporating mechanics that involved bouncing balls off the walls and mirrors to hit targets. Running around the open-world has an aspect of puzzle-solving, too, as you will see various chests and items out of reach, and you will have to figure out how to reach them by jumping over pits and navigating walls and plateaus of varying heights. This incentivizes exploration in a fun way, and there’s a sense of satisfaction and surprise when you’ve found that hidden route or you discover a secret area that just appears when you get close to it.

For as good as the puzzles are and as tight as the gameplay is, what blew me away the most with CrossCode is how breathtaking the sprites and pixel art are. Players familiar with the RPGs from Square Enix’s golden age on the Super Nintendo will recognize the much of the inspiration here, stemming from titles like Chrono Trigger and Secret of Mana. You will explore scorching deserts, wintery mountain peaks, dark, dreary mines, and advanced technological laboratories. Each location’s visuals are all done with such expert craftsmanship, that you could take a snapshot and hang it in your room, and it would look fantastic. Monster designs, especially the screen-filling bosses, are finely detailed and exude such personalities and charm. You’ll find yourself saying “awwww” the first time you see the cute bunnies before they then pounce to destroy you.

“You owe it to yourself to uncover the secrets Shadoon and CrossWorlds with Lea and friends in CrossCode.”

As you play, you will find more and more cute nods to other franchises that the developers clearly love. Items like the Phoenix Feather that come with descriptions that are a clear homage to the popular Final Fantasy curative item. Another that may seem familiar is the Salty Ice Cream that is, “Best enjoyed at sunset on top of a clocktower.” My personal favorites of these are the Metal Gears that are, “Just gears made out of metal, yepp,” and the Masterball, which “Heroes once used this device to capture legendary fiends.” I’m not going to lie, skimming the item descriptions turned into one of my favorite pastimes in this game, so be sure to check them out as you go, too.

The love that Radical Fish Games has put into CrossCode has resulted in a game that will be talked about as critically and with as much praise as other masterpieces like Shovel Knight or The Messenger. CrossCode’s mix of exciting exploration, chaotic yet tight combat, vast skill trees, and clever puzzles that all wrapped up in some of the most beautiful pixel art in the past decade is an experience any fan of RPGs should partake in. Some of the dungeons do go on a bit long, and I found it to be a little annoying at times (the first dungeon having ice physics was a bold choice). I also wasn’t the biggest fan of the exchange system with the item vendors and found myself wishing for a more traditional crafting system, but these small gripes did little to tarnish my overall experience. Every new area I found myself in or new items that contained a nod to pop culture or games from the past put a smile on my face.

In short, Radical Fish Games has raised the bar for retro-inspired indie games. You owe it to yourself to uncover the secrets Shadoon and CrossWorlds with Lea and friends in CrossCode.

July 16, 2020 11:00 AM EST

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/07/crosscode-review-cross-out-some-time-to-play-this-gem/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=crosscode-review-cross-out-some-time-to-play-this-gem

[somevirtualnolife]

Five Straight Losses

3061 Words

Rating: T Pairing: Hawke x Cullen Rutherford Summary: It's weird for Aerianne to see Cullen not working, but somehow, chess suits him. Previous One Shot:  A Scowl and a Smile Author’s Notes: Woo~ A real update rather than a late repost. This turned out longer than I expected it to be! I had a lot of problems trying to figure out this chapter. I kept writing something, then deleting it. Then writing something again, then hating that and deleting that. It took forever. Finally, I decided to settle on chess. I haven't been giving a whole lot of Hawke's POV in this story, so I figured I finally would this time.

There may be a lot of typos in this chapter, just because I wanted to get it out before I was tempted to delete it again. Either way, enjoy! 

“Alright then. With this, everything should be ready for your departure. Thank you again, Hawke,”

“Not a problem. If anything, I should be thanking you,” Aerianne replied, as she stood up.

Working with the Leliana had proven to be more than fruitful these past few weeks. Aerianne had done more than her fair share of smuggling and spying back in Kirkwall, so she was no beginner to this line of work. But the Inquisition’s spymaster was easily the most skilled ‘employers’ she had ever worked with. The way that Leliana not only managed to collect information, but use it to her advantage was truly a work of art. Varric wasn’t kidding when he said that he could take a break from his own network and just count on hers.

“Oh, if I could bother you for one more favor,” the spymaster placed some the documents they just looked over in a large envelope. “I hate to treat you as a messenger, but if you could give the report to the Inquisitor, that would do me a great help. Last I checked of his schedule, he should be in the gardens,”

“Not a problem. I was planning on heading there anyway,” Aerianne replied as she grabbed the envelope with a slight bow before heading down the spiralling staircase.

With the Hissing Wastes and Fallow Mire relatively stable, the preparations for Crestwood were finally underway. Honestly, was quite ready for it. She enjoyed her time in Skyhold for the most part. Even in preparation for war, there was a certain serenity within the walls. One could collect their thoughts without the constant threat of immediate danger, but she could feel herself starting to get antsy. Something telling her that she had to move on soon. She never really stayed anywhere for long, not since Kirkwall. The title of Champion came as both a blessing and a curse over the past few years. Very few saw her as just Aerianne Hawke, the person. For some, she was a symbol of freedom and change. Others considered her a bad omen, someone who ruined their lives and futures. Honestly, she often wondered the same.

In Skyhold, there was some relief from it from time to time. She’d hear her name whispered from time to time among the servants and soldiers when she walked by, but they restrained themselves well enough, most likely due to the fact that they all had a common enemy.

It also helped that there was someone whose names and actions were even more divisive than hers in some ways. Reagan Trevelyan, the Inquistior. Herald of Andraste to some, heretic to others and most interestingly (in her opinion), the mage who saved the Order from the grips of red lyrium. If he was bothered by the opinions of others, he certainly didn’t show it. He took it all in stride. Aerianne couldn’t help but compare herself when she was his age, in a similar position. She was terrified of letting anyone down and cared deeply about what people thought of her. Even those who disliked her. That was her biggest mistake. Maybe if she had just been more decisive, less compromising…

No. What’s done is done, as Isabela said. She couldn’t keep dwelling on the past. It was better to try and focus on fixing the problems of now. Corypheus was their target now.  

She eventually snapped out of her thoughts and back to the present when she heard two familiar voices, goading each other.

“Well, that is a clever move, but I believe the match will be mine,”

“Do you? Are you sure don’t want to reconsider your strategy, Commander? Because I have you in three,”

“That sort of trickery may have won you a few games back in Ostwick, but you won’t be getting any second guessing from me. Watch and observe,”

“We’ll see about- Oh, Hawke!” Reagan said, a large grin on his face as Aerianne approached them. He recovered rather quickly for a person who just spent weeks fighting Tevinter extremists in a barren desert. When he and the rest of the group first returned a few days ago, they looked like sandy, dishevelled and exhausted. It was the first time she ever seen requests for baths taking a priority over other repairs to the fortress. Aerianne was pretty sure that Varric just spent a whole day sleeping, occasionally mumbling about sand.  

“Sorry to disturb your game,” she said with a bit of a smile. “Leliana wanted me to give you the latest reports for Crestwood,”

“Oh, not a problem. We’re just about to finish this match up. Commander Cullen seems confident that the match is his,” he replied, reaching out and taking the large envelope after moving one of his pieces.

“Is that so?” she said, tilting her head as she crossed her arms looked over to Cullen and the chessboard.

“What’s that look?” Cullen furrowed his brows and looked at Aerianne suspiciously.

“It’s not a look!” she protested. “It’s just interesting to see you do something that doesn’t include work. Why do you always think I’m out to make your life difficult?”

“…Because you’re always out to make my life difficult,” he shrugged and then looked back at the chessboard and moved his knight.

“Oh please,” If anything, she had been exceedingly nice to Cullen as of late. It was on him if he chose to groan rather than laugh at his occasional joke. Or a compliment, or flirty remark, or any human interaction that she considered normal among her friends. He really was one of the most easily flustered people that she’d ever met. And she was related to Carver.  

Nonetheless, they were friends now, right? Aerianne felt that they were at least beyond acquaintances by this point. Perhaps close colleagues? She normally wasn’t one to categorize relationships with people beyond the typical social circles, but considering they were no longer ‘enemies’, it was worth investigating where they stood with one another.

The Inquisitor looked from Cullen to Aerianne, very clearly wanting to comment on their conversation, but then clearly deciding it wasn’t it place. Instead, he only held back a bit of a smile.

“Are you all done for today, Hawke? Off to go and see your other half?” he asked, moving his tower piece across the board.

“Varric? He’s been writing quite fervently since last night,” she replied. “ ‘A special request that requires my utmost attention’, is what he told me when I was in his quarters. I looked over a few of his pages for any obvious mistakes and it seemed like something for his old Sword & Shields novels. Figured I’d let him be until he had another pile of papers for me to proofread,” he was also lowly cackling throughout his writing, but she really didn’t feel the need to bring that up. He was always behaving overly dramatic for no reason.

“Really? He’s working on that now?” Reagan stood up, almost in a scramble. It was then that Aerianne could’ve sworn that the Inquisitor’s eyes light up in excitement.

“Wait, you’re not that one person who actually reads that series, are you?” Surely not. Or maybe he was? Actually, if she were to think hard enough about it, she could see Reagan reading that sort of genre. She didn’t mean that as an insult. Strong and a born leader might be the words that she used to describe him when dealing with Inquistior Business, but he was rather different off the clock. Charismatically cheesy was a word that came to mind.

“Me? No, no. I much prefer his historical works. Hard in Hightown is great as well. This is for… a friend,”

“Say no more,” Aerianne laughed a little, lifting her hand. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you popped in to check it out,”

“You mind as well, Inquisitor. I believe the game is done,” Cullen replied, moving his knight once more to take the Reagan’s king. Reagan let out a bit of a sigh, but he didn’t seem particularly surprised. The commander did call it.

“Bah. So it is. Rematch soon?” the Inquisitor asked as he rolled down the cuffs of his sleeves before nodding to both the Commander and Aerianne.

“I always look forward to them,”

Aerianne gave a slight bow and watched as the Inquisitor ran off. Why did she have the feeling that Reagan was somehow involved in this latest burst of Varric’s writing? And it somehow was all connected to Cassandra?

“I never realized that you played chess,” she finally said, looking back at Cullen, who seemed quite comfortable, leaning back in his seat. A strong contrast to being hunched over a pile of reports.  

“A hobby I’ve had since I was a child,” he replied with a bit of a smile. “It’s a good way to get my mind off work,”

Aerianne nodded. It was rare to see Cullen relaxing. Especially as of late. He almost seemed intent on burying himself in it, as though he were trying to distract himself. Anytime she caught him in his office for lunch, he seemed to be talking to a scout, or signing some document, or finishing up a meeting. He didn’t seem to dislike his work by any means, but even those with the best job in the world needed a bit of rest.  

“Would you care for a game?” he continued, looking a little embarrassed. “If you’re up for it of course. I’ve still some time before I’m needed on the training grounds,”

Aerianne almost thought that she misheard Cullen for a moment. For the amount of time they spent together recently, she’d never heard him properly invite her to do something beyond work. She was tempted to say something jokey as she often did, but decided to hold it back. She was curious to see what a relaxed Cullen was like rather than a grumpy, irritated one.

“That would be lovely actually,” she replied, taking the seat that Reagan sat in previously.

“Now that I think of it, I didn’t realize you played chess either,” Cullen said as he arranged the pieces back to their original spaces.

“I used to a bit with my family. It’s been awhile, but I imagine it’s just like riding a horse. It’ll all come back to me soon enough,” Surely it couldn’t be that difficult.

The first match went to Cullen. That was no big deal. He just finished playing a game against the Inquisitor and Aerianne hadn’t played in years. She needed to warm up a bit first was all. Nothing too odd about that.

And then Cullen took the second match. Well, no big deal. He did say this was a hobby of his, but she was catching on to his strategy.

But then she lost a third time.

And then a fourth.

And then…  

“Okay, this is ridiculous! You can’t be this good,” Aerianne complained. It wasn’t even a challenge for him! He beat her in such a short amount of time too… He had to be cheating. Okay, no that was even less likely. Cullen could barely tell a lie, let alone cheat. Still, she refused to believe that he was some sort of unbeatable chess god. There had to be a reason for it all.

“You’re right. I’m not that good at chess. Dorian and Reagan have beaten me a few times. Leliana has as well, though she does have a habit of cheating,” Cullen then tried to hold in a laugh, but a smirk still managed to creep out as he took her king for a fifth time. “…But I think you might be bad at chess. Terrible if I’m being honest,”

Aerianne gaped at his comment. She was more than used to his cutting remarks when they got on each other’s nerves, but it somehow threw her off when he was so confident and distractingly smiley about it. He was using her own techniques against her! Ugh, is this what chess did to him? Is this where he saved all his charisma and confidence?

“That’s not true!” she then shook her head, quite insistently. “My sister and father were excellent at chess and I beat them all the time. Well, a few times,”

Sure, maybe she didn’t play all the time, but it’s not like she was that bad. She really did win against her family a handful of times. In fact, she still remembers beating them both for the first time. And they…

Were not as surprised as they should’ve been about it. They weren’t mad, or surprised, or even annoyed. If she were to think very carefully about their tone, it was a sort of fake-shock. Like when you let a child win in a race. Wait…

Andraste’s tits, they let her win.

“I’m terrible at chess,” A bit of an odd realization for a woman in her thirties to have, but there could be worse epiphanies to have.

“I’m sorry that this was the way you had to find out,” he joked as he started to put away the game pieces. Perhaps five straight losses within an hour was enough for the day. “Do you want to know what your biggest issue is when playing chess?”

“What?” she said, crossing her arms, clearly feeling a little sore about how bad she was. And she knew how Cullen could be when he had the upper hand. He’s get that annoying, satisfied smirk and proceed to find ways to work in ways to chide and lecture her. Lord it over her for weeks.

You know, essentially what she did to him half of the time. But it was worse because it was him. Obviously.

“You play chess like it’s a game of Wicked Grace,” he responded. “They both require different strategies, different risks,”

Aerianne chewed the inside of her cheek in annoyance, but she knew he was right.

“I’m sure if you ask Leliana, she’d be more than willing to teach you a few good strategies. Ideally ones that don’t include cheating,” continued.

“Not you?”

“Do you want me to? I quite recall you saying you hate it when I lecture you,”

“That’s when your scolding turns into a lecture,” she corrected. “I would hardly mind you lecturing me about something you enjoy,”  

“Is that so?”

And there was that smile again. No, not the smirk. Just a normal, content smile. It was usually so rare, but she had seen it surface a number of times throughout each match. She’d even seen it briefly when he was playing against Reagan. Aerianne didn’t want to say that he should smile more often. That sounded a little ridiculous considering everything that was going on around them (also it was a gross pick-up line that she heard far too often back at the Hanged Man). But still… it suited him well. She wouldn’t mind seeing it more often. It was…

Okay, now she was beginning to sound like one of the staff in the kitchen. She really had to stop going there before she started acting like a giddy young maiden herself. They were all about true love and romance which Aerianne was far beyond that point in her life now. Yes, yes, Cullen was handsome. And considerate. And hard working. And adorably awkward. The list could go on. And sure, the way their sparring match had ended a few weeks back may have sparked a bit of curiosity of what he was like out of that armor. But ultimately, she knew it was a silly infatuation and nothing more. She would get over it, as she often did.

Perhaps Aerianne wasn’t the only one with a lot on her mind, as she also noticed the commander shaking his head slightly, as though trying to remove whatever current thoughts he had out of his head.  

“But, uh, we’ll save that for another time. I should probably head to the courtyard. Recruits, unfortunately, do not train themselves,” he slowly started to stand up.

“Right. Yes,” she replied, doing the same. “And I’d best prepare for Crestwood tomorrow,”

While the others still had a few days before they headed out, she needed to inform Stroud of the situation and see if she couldn’t deal a little bit with the bandit problem in the area. The Inquisitor already seemed to have to deal with another giant glowing hole that could threaten the nearby town, so it was the least she could do. Plus, she moved faster on her own.

“Ah right,” Cullen replied, doing the same. “Glad I got to see you before you left then. It’ll be a little unusual not having you around for a bit. Lunches will certainly be different,”

“Well, I’m sure one of the kitchen staff would love to have lunch with you in my stead,” Aerianne replied with a bit of a smirk. “The red-headed young lady is quite cute. I’ve seen you glance her way a few times,” and she’d done more than a few in his direction.

“That’s not- Hawke…” he said with irritation. There he was. The grumpy Cullen she knew far too well. She could relax again and get out of her head.  

“I assure you that I won’t say anything to her. It was just a helpful suggestion,” What a better way to get someone out of your head than to try and throw them into the arms of someone else? A flawless plan (a terrible plan).

“Suggestion noted, but ultimately disregarded,” he said, crossing his arms furrowing his brows. It really was amazing how easy it was to get under his skin as soon as the topic of romance and women came up. But she wouldn’t push it too far. He just got rid of his stress. She didn’t need to immediately pile up on it again.

“Alright, alright. I know that look and tone, I won’t pester you further,” she smiled a bit and gave him a casual wave before turning around. “Take care, Commander. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, hopefully,”

“Just… please be careful out there,” she heard him say. “For Varric. I know he, uh… he worries about you,”

Aerianne looked over her shoulder and back at Cullen. His arms were still crossed, and his eyes still stern with annoyance.

Or was it concern?

“…I will,”

[kitsukyouno]

Here the translation from the side history:’‘Interview with Swim Swim’‘

http://pastebin.com/dfVgB3Ub

Swim Swim is fully of Ruler in the

Knowing that maybe this link will died in some moment I pasted the novel aboved

Part 1

“Today we’ll be conducting an interview with the newly active Magical Girl Swim Swim. Swim Swim-san, pleased to meet you.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

“For our first question. What do you think of your Magical Girl form, Swim Swim-san?”

“A failure.”

“--Eh?”

“A failure.”

“By that you mean…?”

“There’s too many accessories so I keep getting stuck in narrow passages. I spent a long time adding wings, but I can’t fly. My body’s too big, so my sense of balance is poor. White is very obvious even at night, so it’s hard to hide.”

“Quite the in-depth assessment… It must have been hard on you.”

“People have said that before.”

“Is that so… Then, on the other hand, what parts of your Magical Girl form do you like, Swim Swim-san?”

“It’s cute.”

“Could you please go into more detail?”

“What kinds of details?”

“Like say, it has soft hair, or a cute smile.”

“It has soft hair and a cute smile.”

“--Eh? Ah, alright, then. So you like those points.”

“Yes.”

“--I see. Alright, thank you for your answer.”

“You’re welcome.”

Part 2

“Now then, let’s change the topic. I’m sure everyone wants to know some basic things about you.”

“Mm.”

“In that case, can you tell us how you became a Magical Girl?”

“The Magical Girl Raising Project.”

“The Magical Girl Raising Project?”

“A game.”

“Ah, so it was a game.”

“I played Magical Girl Raising Project, then Fav popped out and I became a Magical Girl.”

“So after playing the game, a mascot appeared and Swim Swim became a Magical Girl… is that what you meant? You skipped over a lot of important points.”

“Playing Magical Girl Raising Project let me become a Magical Girl.”

“Ahhh, alright. Then let’s continue on this topic. You began playing Magical Girl Raising Project, because you were interested in Magical Girls, right?”

“Not really.”

“Huh? Don’t you like Magical Girls?”

“I like the princess types.”

“Ahh, that sort fo thing.”

“The ads said I could make anything I wanted with my avatar and costume, be it a murderer, race queen, potter or a princess. Also, it was free.”

“Indeed, princesses are nice.”

“Mm.”

“They’re pretty and cute.”

“Mmmm.”

“Huh? But your costume doesn’t resemble a princess’ at all.”

“My original game avatar looked like that.”

“Oh, I see… huh? But you were attracted to Magical Girl Raising Project by the fact that you could play a princess, right? In that case, you could have made your avatar look like a princess, couldn’t you?”

“There were reasons.”

“What kind of reasons were they?”

“White is a princess’ color, so I chose the whitest costume.”

“I see, so that’s the secret of how that striking costume of yours was born.”

“I was also very interested in the way it could raise my party’s magical defense.”

“Ah, so you thought about its game effects as well.”

“Always-on buffs are strong.”

Part 3

“I, I see… then, onto our next question. Could you tell me what a Magical Girl needs to pay attention to under normal circumstances?

“Listening to the leader’s orders.”

“A leader? You’ve formed a team already?”

“Mm.”

“I heard that most Magical Girls work alone and that teams are rare.”

“If we work hard and combine our strength, we can defeat strong enemies.:

“I see, that matches the mindset of a girl who became a Magical Girl from a game.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Everyone in the team gets along, right?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Eh? So you don’t get along?”

“Mm.”

“I, I see… no, but, it’s pretty amazing that you managed to form a team even if you don’t get along, at least that’s what I think. After all, people who don’t get along don’t group up into teams.”

“It’s all thanks to our leader.”

“The leader from just now seems to have very strong appeal.”

“Her name is Ruler.”

“Uh, is it really alright to say her name?”

“I was ordered to spread her name whenever I had the chance.”

“Ah, yes.”

“If I was interviewed, I would have to spread our leader’s name and let everyone know how appealing she was.”

“Did Ruler-san order you to do that?”

“Mm.”

“No, wouldn’t it be better to respond with silence?”

“That’s true.”

“It’s too late now… then, what other members are there in your team?”

“Twin angels and a dog.

“They feel like the team from the final chapter of the Dog of Flanders. What are your teammates like?”

“They’re all useless dummies.”

“Eh?”

“That’s what Ruler said.”

“Ehhhh… did Ruler order you to say that too?”

“No.”

“Maybe it would be better not to say that… then, let’s put Ruler-san’s opinions aside for a while. Swim Swim-san, what do you think of them?”

“They’re all good girls.”

Part 4

“That sounds really fake… let’s change our topic a little. Now then, has your mental state changed ever since you became a Magical Girl?”

“Yes, it has.”

“You can talk about trivial things if you want.”

“Mm… my Magic is to swim into anything.”

“Ohhh, that’s a handy Magic.”

“When I became a Magical Girl, I used my Magic to swim into all sorts of places.”

“That’s nice, it sounds like you had fun.”

“After swimming into all sorts of places, and then I thought of swimming into a mountain.”

“Oh, a mountain.”

“I thought that it would be fun to swim in there.”

“It does seem like the right size to swim around in.”

“I swam inside the mountain, round and round, but I could not swim out no matter what I tried. The mountain was much bigger than I imagined.”

“Then, were you alright?”

“Not really.”

“Huh.”

“I thought that I could not swim along the ground inside the mountain, so I swam upwards. It was very painful and I couldn’t breathe. I got dizzy, my chest ached, and my eyes went dark.”

“That’s terrible, wasn’t it?”

“I’m not sure what happened then, but after I checked, I realized that it was called passing out. That was the change in my mental state.”

“No, that’s not what I meant by an altered mental state. Then, what happened after that, Swim Swim-san? The fact that you’re here means that you were rescued.”

“I emerged in a hole dug halfway inside the mountain.”

“Ahh, is that so? That’s wonderful.”

“I was saved, but I don’t ever want to swim into a mountain again.”

“I think that’s a good idea. You shouldn’t do dangerous things again.”

“Mm.”

“On the flip side, can you tell us what uses your Magic has?”

“I can scare people on Halloween.”

“I see, is there anything else?”

“If I want to take a shortcut, I can go through a wall and scare the nearby people.”

“Ah… some productive uses, perhaps?”

“I can scare away people gathered inside the temple.”

“I’m sorry, but could you tell me something that isn’t related to scaring people?”

“I figured out what passing out means now.”

“That was what we were discussing just now. It’s not what I meant; I’m talking about how your power can help people. Have you done nothing dramatic like saving people in the nick of time and so on?

“I’ll work hard on that from now on.”

“Ahhh… er, that’s good, I’ll be cheering you on.”

“Thank you.:

Part 5

“Then let’s move on to our next question. COuld you tell me if you have any special skills aside from your Magic?”

“I’m learning how to swim.”

“Oh, you’re learning it because you’re Swim Swim.”

“I was confused about which was better between swimming and English, but in the end I chose swimming.”

“A good choice.”

“I’m also good at running, I’m the fastest in my class.”

“You’re surprisingly athletic, Swim Swim.”

“My punches and kicks are strong too.”

“Ohhh.”

“When Tanaka-kun said princesses shouldn’t be violent, I beat him until he shut up.”

“Surprisingly enough, I feel Tanaka-kun was in the right.”

“The royal family must be prepared to fight in order to protect the country. It is the duty of royalty, at least that’s what the book said. Princesses are royalty too, aren’t they?”

“Well, uh, it might be.”

“So I beat up Miyazawa-san when he told Sensei about how I kicked Tanaka-kun.”

“Please don’t do that, it’ll only propagate the cycle of violence.”

“Ruler said so too.”

“This is the first good thing Ive heard from Ruler-san.”

“Princesses not like knights and generals, so there’s no need for them to fight directly. When the court is in chaos, a princess survives by Machiavellian principles… at least, that’s what Ruler said.”

Part 6

“I take my previous words back. Then, onto the next question. Tell me about the Magical Girls you admire.”

“Ruler.”

“Well, I didn’t expect to hear that name. I think someone whose name comes up so often should be quite amazing.”

“Ruler.”

“I heard it. I’m listening.”

“Ruler is the leader that I respect.”

“Ahh, I see. By any chance, did Ruler-san order you to say that?”

“No.”

“Alright, so it is. Let’s move on. Swim Swim-san, what part of Ruler-san do you like best?”

“She’s strong, kind, cool, cute, beautiful, knows everything, and taught me everything.”

“And did Ruler-san order you to say that as well...?”

“No.”

“Ahhh, alright. Please, continue.”

“Also, she is like a princess.”

“Ruler-san is like a princess?”

“Very much.”

“Very much, huh. Speaking of which, you’ve been quite eager to talk about Ruler since just now, Swim Swim-san.”

“Because she’s a princess.”

“You seem quite interested in princesses. Is there any special reason for that?”

“When I was very small, Mama would read stories from a picture book to me. I liked the stories about princesses very much.”

“I see, so it was because of a picture book’s stories. Do you prefer princesses to Magical Girls in animated films? Things like Snow White, Cinderella, and so on.”

“I’ve seen them all.”

“As I thought. Ah, but there are some Magical Girls who are also princesses. Magical Daisy is the princess of the Land of Flowers, after all.”

“Magical Daisy… Don’t know her.”

“Then you’ll have to watch her. Magical Daisy’s very interesting. I recommend it very highly.”

“When and on which day is her show?”

“The season’s finished airing, so you’ll need to rent the DVDs…”

“I can’t.”

“Eh? Why not?”

“I can’t get a membership.”

“Is that so… well, that’s quite troubling.”

“Lend it to me.”

“Eh? Are you talking to me?”

“Lend it to me.”

“Uh… I think PR Department ought to have the full series, but--”

“Lend it to me.”

“Aren’t we being forceful. Well, alright. Magical Daisy would be happy to have more fans. I’ll send it over after the interview.

“Thank you.”

Part 7

“Then, our last question. What does a being Magical Girl mean to you?”

“Ruler.”

“Ah, yes. Ruler-san. The leader of your team.”

“Mm. “

“And did Ruler-san order you to say--”

´´No’‘

“Koff, alright, so it is.”

“Mm.”

“How shall I put this…. This interview gives me a better sense of how Ruler-san is rather than yourself, Swim Swim-san. Is that not true?”

“Make Ruler look good.”

“No, well, I wasn’t planning to badmouth her.”

“Ruler says she has a lawyer friend.”

“No, I really won’t say bad things about her… Although, after this Magical Girl Interview goes through editing, it’s possible that interviews like this won’t pass muster at all… I’ll do my best to take care of it.”

“Thank you.”

Part 8

“Now then. Swim Swim-san, let’s end by saying a few words to everyone.”

“Team Ruler is looking for new members. Experience not required, rookies welcome, interviews conducted during office hours. Since we are Magical Girls, there will be no wages given. We can help you improve your skills, so to all Magical Girls seek a place to shine, why not join Team Ruler to move on to the next stage?”

“Why are you reading off a memo pad? Was it all written there?”

“Mm.”

“Did Ruler-san ask you to promote her with that?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve worked hard.”

“There’s more.”

“There’s more?”

“I let Swim Swim handle this because this interview is for newbie Magical Girls. However, next time, you should interview the most capable Magical Girl of them all, Ruler.”

“Haaaah.”

“If there is a need to conduct another interview, please contact me, Ruler said.”

“Alright, thank you very much for all your hard work.”

“Not at all.”

“Swim Swim-san, thank you for today.”

“Thank you.”

Part 9

“Good evening, Musician of the Forest Clamberry-san.”

“Good evening. I heard that you were interviewing promising new Magical Girls for a Land of Magic publicity magazine, am I right?”

“Yes.”

“What a surprise. I was not informed of anything like that despite being the supervisor.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Oh yes, there is. Come to think of it, she--Swim Swim--is just a Magical Girl candidate, so she’s not interview material until she properly passes her test. She might have excellent potential, but for now she’s just a temp.”

“Huh, so that’s how it is.”

“Yes.”

“I do apologize for that. Something must have gone wrong somewhere…”

“A mascot character must have been meddling around and doing unnecessary things. You can’t rely on them at all. Now then, just leave all the information about this matter with us. It’s over. If you keep forcing your way into this, it’ll cause me a lot of trouble. This is a top-secret project by Human Resources, so… are you listening to me?”

“Well, if she’s a temp, then it can’t be helped. It was an interesting interview…”

“Is that all of it?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

“If you’re hiding anything…”

“I’m not hiding anything. I’ve never been good at hiding things.”

“That’s good.”

“Then, there’s something I’d like to ask.”

“What is it?”

“There’ll be a blank space in our magazine if the newbie Magical Girl interview ges taken down. Therefore, I was thinking that it would be good to replace it with an article along the lines of, ‘Listen To A Capable Examiner! Important Things About Being A Magical Girl!’ or something like that. So, Clamberry-san, I hope you’ll.. Hang on, Clamberry-san. We’re not finished yet, Clamberry-san…”

[ecotone99]

[FN] The Potion Maker

The sun was setting as a boy stood behind a tall counter double checking the stock of potions. To describe the youth would be a waste of time as he is entirely forgettable. To go into the minute details like the color of his eyes or hair wouldn’t matter as the information would immediately slip from anyone’s mind as they thought of more pressing things like paint drying. As the sun finished its decent the boy crept over to a cracked door to his left. He peered inside, checking that the old potion master was indeed in a deep sleep. And so, after quietly closing the door, the boy began the only notable hobby he had, potion experimentation.

After foraging for a few minutes under the counter he began to pull out his supplies, various beakers and test tubes bubbling with all manner of brightly colored liquids. With a snap of some safety goggles he began to work, adding a pinch of newt here or a splash of dragon blood there. After dropping monster bits into the chemicals for a while he turned toward the shelf directly behind him. There on the counter was a small cauldron with a small wood pile underneath it. He proceeded to pour all of the tubes into the cauldron which crested a puff of smoke in the shape of a skull. “Perfect,” he described, “it’s working already.”

Reaching down and plucking a suitable stick from the pile and went over to get a match. He then went out back to get a fire salamander. The salamander looked at the boy angrily, grumpy at being woken up. “I’m sorry, buts it’s important,” he explained and with the promise of a match to eat the salamander groggily stood up and walked onto the stick, immediately catching the end on fire. Quickly balancing the hot amphibian, the boy arrived at the cauldron just in time. A second later and his fiery cargo would have had enough and jumped down, staring a house fire in the process.

The actions of our forgettable hero do, in fact have a purpose. Despite his age, or perhaps because of it, the potion master cannot properly instruct his young apprentice. It has only been thanks to the natural skill of the boy that the shop hasn’t closed yet on account of the owner’s appetite for sleep. This lack of supervision has led to the young man experimenting with new concoctions. Potions, potions, potions, that is all that ever fills his mind. “Hello!” Well. almost everything.

Due to the poor upkeep of the shop not many people go there to purchase supplies. Despite this one female knight has become somewhat of a regular customer. “Oh, sorry. Did I make a mess again?” Her clumsy and care free attitude has caused many troubles for that young potion maker, not that he really minded of course.

“Not at all Miss Knight. The same as usual?” And he went about gathering ingredients to brew a stamina, health, and antidote potion. Occasionally she would go and ask for something else and he would make it for her. All while this is going on, she would talk about her day or things that have been bothering her. He would just stand there and listen to her. In many ways he was similar to a bartender or a hairdresser. It didn’t help that he brewed and collected ingredients in glasses and wore formal wear while on the job.

“Actually, I kind of have an odd request.” Miss Knight asked, her hand scratching the back of her head while she shifted side to side causing her heavy armor to clank. The boy was intrigued, he had never seen her embarrassed before. What could possibly be the cause for Miss Knight, a famous figure throughout the kingdom, to be embarrassed. “Can you brew an anti-love potion?”

He blinked. “I’m afraid that there is no such thing. Why would you even need something like that?” At his response she sighed dramatically and rested her elbows onto the counter-top pouting. “Um, I’m sorry if I asked something I shouldn’t have or stepped over any boundaries. Please don’t go to any other potion shop. They won’t be able to make it either and you’re pretty much our only regular customer besides some cloaked guy who always buys a tonic every Tuesday.” She continued pouting while he went back to his usual duties.

Eventually she sighed and got up. “It’s just Sir Godfree.” He nodded. Miss Knight would often be pestered by suitors and fellow nobles, being the only female knight in the kingdom, but Sir Godfree was by far the worst. If he had a penny for every time she complained about him he wouldn’t need this apprenticeship. He was persistent, always going on about how he would “tame” woman and how no one could resist his “manly charms.” It made him glad Miss Knight was his only noble customer. “His attempts keep getting grander and grander. I wouldn’t mind it so much if they were thoughtful but they’re all just about how great he is. It’s infuriating!”

“I could offer you a poison if you’d like. That could get rid of him permanently.” He offered with a large grin before breaking out into laughter at her shocked expression. “Do you actually think I’d do that? And I thought we knew each other. Regardless of the trouble I’d get into with the apothecary guild you’d lose your position as a knight. Then who’d be my favorite customer?”

She smiled, “Oh, I’m sure you’d find someone. You can be quite charming when you want to be. Hey do you have a cup?”

“Of course.” Once he handed her a small glass, she pulled out a bottle of wine and poured some.

“While we’re on the topic of romance how did that date go?” He flushed red at her question.

“Well, it didn’t go very well. I don’t understand why you keep setting me up on these dates, especially with nobles. Even when they are nice, they’re still kind of stuck up.” He turned to face her and realized that she had pulled over a chair and was leaning heavily on the table top, her face flushed and the bottle already half empty. He sighed, “Besides, I already have someone I like. I just don’t think she likes me, at least not in that way. Now let me finish, I’m almost done.”

She went on to pester him about who it was while finishing her bottle. Eventually he finished, pouring wax on the cork to seal it. “Hey Miss-“ but she was fast asleep. He merely sighed before going over to a nearby cabinet. After taking out two potions he went and deposited the three he had just finished into her bag and took out the required amount for payment. Popping open one of the two he pulled from the cabinet he quickly chugged it before going and heaving Miss Knight onto his back and taking her out to her horse, her armor clanking with each step.

After making sure she was securely on the beast of burden he had the horse drink the second potion. “Make sure she gets home safely Winfree.”

“Of course, sir. It is my duty. Though I wish she wouldn’t do this as often. Perhaps one day she can spend the night with you and I can relax her in the stables. I’m sure that would make you happy.” The horse responded.

The boy blushed. “I have no idea what you’re taking about. Now go home you old mule.” And with a quick smack to the hindquarters the horse left, his drunken owner muttering in her sleep. The potion maker watched as they went away, making sure they were safe before going back inside.

Just as he finished closing the door, he a voice from behind him. “Hm, who was that? A customer?” He turned to face his master, an old man groggy at being awoken so late. His knight cap and glasses were both at odd angles and he had managed to mix up his bunny slippers so that the left one was on his right foot and vice versa.

The potion maker answered with a sad smile. “Its no one important. Just a friend.”

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