#also that last paragraph was a bitch to transcribe in a way that like. made sense?

[reunioninn]

Daisuke's Notes on Venom's Concept and Design:

Like Millia, he was raised in the Assassin's Guild from an early age. He adores Zato.

He was set up to be a long-reach character and flier. I wondered what kind of character I should make. Originally, he had a cello. He actually had a fan for a weapon before Anji did. He also had a large cross, which I thought was the best concept, however, we were told that it was OK to have it as a part of his design, but not to hit anyone with it. When I was struggling, I went out to play games as a distraction. One time, as we were playing billiards, we talked about how interesting it would be to have a fighter who fights with a pool cue. But I thought the character would be too boring with just the cue alone, so I made it so that his hair also covered his face and added a mark on it with a bit of paint. Since the head had such a strong personality, I wanted to keep the body simple. However, I wanted to change the overall shape of the body to make it similar to Zato's, so that's why the legs are like that. As for the pants design, if I wanted to keep it simple, I would have made each leg the same color, but that would've made his figure appear more naked. To find a way around this, I made one leg light and the other dark to add more of a mysterious flair.

[katsitting]

Hey! How are you today ? 🖤 If that's not too late, would you please do the prompt 152 ? Thanks 😊

Rating: T

Warnings: Crack treated seriously, suggestive themes, and explicit language (Harry has quite the potty mouth in this). Typos are my own.

Prompt: “Stop Texting me weird stuff so late at night.” + Tomarry

This was actually very fun to write. It is not serious whatsoever. I think this was something short and funny to write in order to decompress from my other more…sinister story. I hope you enjoy! (Thank Peixe for the interesting text, btw. It just made this crack all possible).

Buzz.

Harry groaned aloud, shifting in his bed to reach for his phone. He had only just settled into bed, his day far longer than he had wanted it to be.

Finals were around the corner. The holidays were nearing and he wanted to do nothing more than sleep. He didn’t know how late it was, didn’t even know when he had finally settled the anxiety thrumming through his veins when he’d laid down.

It could have been minutes. It could easily have been hours.

All that had registered before bed was the cloying darkness around him and the delicious press of cool sheets against his skin.

A decadence that he had not indulged in in what felt like months. And considering just what time in the semester it was, it was most likely the case. He hadn’t caught a break the entire semester, and he didn’t expect to get one once classes ended after exams. 

Lord knew when he would catch a break that entire month. 

Harry was beyond upset that someone had dared shoot him a message.

The person at the other end just had to know what point in the semester it was. All his friends were bloody university students. His parents never texted him, and considering how hectic December was before the holidays, his parents would never dare bother him until at least after his exams were over.

Fucking arsehole.

Harry cursed under his breath repeatedly as he reached, almost lazily, for his phone before he finally grabbed hold of it on the nightstand by his bed. He fumbled with it for several seconds, nearly dropping it on his face once or twice when the stupid thing slipped from his fingers.

It was a sleek iPhone. Not new, and definitely not the latest model of the year. It normally fit nicely within his hands. But not today. 

The phone was fighting him tooth and nail, refusing to settle comfortably in his hand. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to drag it up to his face, but there was no one around to witness the spectacle.

It was just him and the six football posters he had plastered in his tiny dorm room.

Harry didn’t bother putting on his glasses, leaving the frames underneath his pillow. He wasn’t about to spend another five minutes trying to look for them.

Sure, he had shitty vision. But that certainly did not mean he was blind. He didn’t need it to figure just who was the arsehole that texted him. He also wasn’t about to waste more time he could be using to sleep by fumbling for them, either.

Not that he needed them much anyway. He always kept the font on his phone to a relatively large size. You just never knew when you’d be stuck without them. At least, that���s how Harry justified it. 

Harry knew for a fact that he wouldn’t always have his glasses on hand. His entire life was testament enough to that. Hell, the current semester was more than enough proof that he didn’t have his life sorted out enough to keep his glasses on him.

Harry had forgotten his glasses numerous times already this term alone. It wasn’t his fault that his alarm did a piss poor job of waking him up on time for those ungodly morning classes he had every week.

Harry practically smashed the phone into his face before he clicked on the center button.

The phone immediately came to life.

Harry swore when it nearly blinded him.

He blinked repeatedly to chase away the black spots dancing along his vision, caught completely off guard by the brightness of his phone screen. It was on full brightness. He must have somehow forgotten to lower the brightness before he’d settled into bed.

Nice going, Harry.

Once he managed to blink all dark spots from his vision, and he determined that he had not actually blinded himself, Harry began to,  or at least tried to, read the bright blue notification on screen.

What the–?

It was a message from Tom Riddle.

At three in the bloody morning.

It was a giant mass of text that Harry had little hope of transcribing, without his glasses, at least. There was a myriad of emojis in between the white text, and Harry was at a total loss at how to make sense of it. It was too dense. Practically a paragraph.

Harry was not even close to equipped to deal with this bullshit so late at night. Not that he was equipped to deal with it on any other night, but still, it was particularly irksome in that moment.

Just who sent a paragraph of messages anymore? 

Harry tried to make sense of the letters, but they were beyond blurred. The combination of the cellphone’s brightness, his exhaustion, and his brain’s outright refusal in reading the message making it an impossible task. The only thing legible were the emojis.

…Harry would have to grab his glasses if he wanted to know what the message said. He was not happy.

Bloody perfect.

Harry grumbled before he reached underneath his pillow with one hand for familiar metal. He stopped when he felt cold metal beneath his fingertips, and pulled them out with little issue.

He quickly pressed them onto his face, satisfied that at least this didn’t take him three years to put on. Harry had fully expected his glasses to give him just as much trouble as his phone, but he supposed, it was punishment enough that he was awake rather than asleep like he was supposed to be. 

But Harry had a message from Riddle. He just couldn’t ignore it.

Riddle never texted him.

Harry could count in one hand the amount of times the man had gone out of his way to text him. Perhaps, twice in one year if he was being generous?

And never with so many emojis, or any, for that matter. Riddle didn’t seem like the sort. It was painfully obvious from the few evenings Harry had to interact with him that Riddle was about as dry as sandpaper, and as prickly as a cactus. If he messaged you, it was for a reason. Harry knew that much.

The message on his phone was telling him entirely different story, however.

Harry was not nearly delirious enough to imagine all those emojis. That Riddle, in fact, had sent him a paragraph of text. Easily more words than Riddle and he had shared in the past three years.

It was…curious. Too strange and out of character for Harry to leave it well enough alone.

Harry pressed his finger against the phone screen, and watched as the message opened up, not sure of what to expect.

“whats poppin in that peppermint 🍬🔴⚪️ pussy 🐱💦 u little snowhoe ❄️👅👀🎄 DICKCEMBER🎄 is here 🚨🍆🍒 and the only way to stay warm is to ride daddy’s christmAss tree 🎄🍑✔️ all month long until his SAP comes out 🍻👅💦💯 but dont forget ❌❌ to lick off any syrup 👅🍯 from daddy’s HARD candy cane 🍭😩 if u want to get RAWED 🚼🍆😩😏 under the mistleHOE 🌿 then send this to 2⃣5⃣ of your thickest elves 💁🙋🍒 if u get 0⃣ back 😔 then ur an UGLY GRINCH 😷😴 if u get back 1⃣0⃣😊 ur a BAD JINGLE BELL BITCH🔥🙌 If u get back 2⃣0⃣ 😏 then get ready for daddy Claus and st DICKolas on christmAss eve 🎄❗️🎄 SHARE in 6⃣9⃣😉💦 seconds or you wont end 2⃣❗️0⃣❗️1⃣❗️7⃣❗️ with a BANG 😩💦💥.”

What?

Harry was completely floored. He was staring so intently at the message that it was a miracle in itself that he hadn’t burned a hole through his phone from the intensity of his stare.

This was the most ridiculous thing Harry had ever read in his life. Single-handedly worse than the time Ron had drunkenly texted him about his massive crush on his now-girlfriend, Hermione. Sending him messages after messages, and even pictures, of himself in his underwear, desperate for advice that Harry had been unable to give at the time.

It had taken weeks of apologies from Ron’s end to get Harry to talk to him again. Though, the image was unfortunately still burned to the back of Harry’s head. Especially the picture of Ron’s damn elephant undies with the trunk located right where his–

Harry banished the thought before he even dared go down that route.

This was about Riddle, not Ron. Harry didn’t need to add more fuel to the fire. The fact that Riddle of all people had sent him something like that, in the middle of the night, was just wrong. It was absurd. It was something straight out of an episode of the Twilight Zone.

Riddle was the last person Harry would have expected to do something like this. To send a chain message of that sort to Harry of all people, no less.

Riddle was practically the most boring person Harry knew. He was the complete opposite of Harry in almost every way. Harry at least had a sense of humor, while Riddle was just smug and unapproachable more often than not.

Riddle also hardly ever smiled, and literally everything that left his mouth was infuriating. There wasn’t a time in Harry’s short association with Riddle that the man did not say something offensive. It was as if Riddle were incapable of saying something nice. Well, around Harry mostly.

Harry couldn’t speak to his behavior around others, but still, Riddle was a smug and condescending bastard. It was a skill in and of itself to be as disagreeable as he was with Harry. 

No words needed to be exchanged, even. Just a look from Riddle’s direction said it all.

Rather than a resting bitch face, Riddle had a resting arsehole face. As if Riddle was begging for Harry to punch him, or to knock him down a peg or two.

It was just awful that the man was so pretty. A bloody shame, really. It should be a crime to be as attractive as Riddle was when he was such a fuckface. He didn’t deserve those sharp cheekbones, those plump pink lips, nor the perfectly piled hair at the top of his head.

Riddle deserved none of it. It was a complete waste.

Though, that still didn’t answer the most burning question at the forefront of Harry’s mind.

Harry still had no bloody clue of how to even reply to that, of how to even draft a response.

Should he even reply back? Why was he even considering replying to such an obvious chain message? It had to all just be a joke. It had to be a mistake from Riddle’s end, and nothing more. For all Harry knew,  Riddle could have been drunk and that was why he had sent Harry of all people such an unsolicited message in the first place.

There were plenty of possibilities that could readily explain away why Riddle had sent the text.

And all of them had little to do with Riddle wanting to actually talk to him at three in the morning.

But what if he did it on purpose? A traitorous voice whispered in the back of Harry’s head.

What if Tom was sober and he had intended to send you something like this? What if, for all his douchebaggery, he wanted to talk to you?

Harry started typing before he realized it, before he could truly consider just what it was that he was doing. It was bloody stupid that he was even writing a response to this tosser. But Harry was just too curious for his own good, too interested in seeing just what response he’d get from Riddle.

The what ifs in the back of Harry’s head were too alluring and much too tempting. This was Riddle. This wasn’t some random bloke sending him a message in the middle of then night. 

And you think he’s pretty…a mocking voice whispered in the back of Harry’s mind. Harry wanted to smack himself for the thought, for even going down that route. He would sooner walk into oncoming traffic before he ever admitted something like that. Riddle was attractive, Harry was not blind.

But Riddle was a dick. Whatever allure the man had, his personality made it impossible to appreciate.

You still think his arse looks nice in a nice pair of tight jeans, however…the same damn traitorous voice mocked, and Harry wanted to scream in frustration.

Harry was not attracted to him. That was not the reason why he was going to reply. He was curious. Nothing more and nothing less.

It wasn’t the first time his blasted curiosity had gotten him into trouble, and Harry was certain it wouldn’t be the last even as he finally drafted up the perfect response for the situation.

Maybe Riddle would fail to answer. Maybe Riddle would ignore it all together and pretend he never sent the ridiculous text to Harry in the first place.

There was only one way to find out.

“Stop texting me weird stuff so late at night.”

It wasn’t the most eloquent message, but it was enough to get his point across.

Satisfied, Harry hit “send.”

And then he waited, too awake now to settle back into bed. Especially after Tom bloody Riddle had sent him a fucking message about getting dicked down in December.

Harry couldn’t just let this pass him by without knowing for certain that it was Riddle that sent this and not one of his friends trying to play a joke on the man. Though, now that Harry thought about it, it was more likely that one of Riddle’s friends did manage to snatch his phone or something.

It was more plausible than Riddle being drunk out of his arse considering Harry, in all the time he had known Riddle, had never let more than one glass of wine pass through his lips at the ridiculous friendsgiving parties Hermione threw every year.

Why Riddle went to those things and why Hermione invited him at all was a mystery, even now.

Harry was ripped from his thoughts when his phone burst to life in his hands, the vibrations traveling from the tips of his fingers all the way to his elbow from the intensity. It took him a second to open the message and read it.

“Wat r u doing?”

Harry squinted, confused.

Huh?

“Riddle, have you been drinking? That was too many misspelled words.”

Harry tapped up the message and sent it with a speed he had not known he had. None of this made any sense. The Riddle he knew would never make so many glaring errors.

It was sickening, in a way. To see someone that typically behaved so full of himself act almost…like a normal college student. Tom Riddle just didn’t do normal. Harry couldn’t reconcile this fact.

It didn’t take long for Riddle to respond, and Harry sucked in a surprised breath.

“R u alone?”

Harry pinched himself to assure himself that he was not still sleeping. Unsure if he should laughing or be deeply concerned with Riddle’s behavior.

“Riddle, it’s three in the morning, of course I’m alone.” Harry replied immediately, unsure of why he even kept replying when the best solution to this entire thing was not answering. It was easy. Simple.

It would take little effort from Harry’s end to stop replying.

Harry sent a second text before he could stop himself.

“Please stop texting me.”

Harry should just silence his phone. It would be just as easy as ignoring Riddle’s texts. 

He knew how it worked, had silenced his phone numerous times in the past. It was the best way to avoid a lecture from Hermione’s end or to focus on studying when he had a looming deadline. He really did know how it worked. It’d take seconds to do it.

But his fingers refused to tap on the crescent moon and silence his phone. It was as though Harry was physically unable to pry his eyes from the screen. He had exams soon, he couldn’t afford to mess around with Riddle. He couldn’t afford to lose sleep over something as stupid as this, but–

Then, a message bubble appeared right at the bottom of his messaging app. Riddle was typing a response.

Go to bed, Harry…said a voice that sounded too much like Hermione’s motherly tone.

It is three in the morning on a Thursday. You have exams next week, go to bed.

Harry wanted to listen. He was more than aware of this, and that he would certainly regret this all the next day when he had to wake up to start studying against.

But Harry ignored all the warnings.

He wanted to see how this all unfolded. He wanted to know for certain that this was Riddle. He wanted to know if Riddle was capable of being drunk, that he actually had a whole other side to him that Harry did not even know existed. This was a once in the life time opportunity, in a way. It wasn’t every day that someone with such a stick shoved up his arse could loosen up.

The phone vibrated in his hand, and the blue bubble appeared on screen.

“Invite me over.”

Harry frowned. He would most certainly not. It was three in the morning. He had classes to study for, and he refused to be alone with Riddle.It was one thing to humor the man by responding to his text messages, but entirely another to actually meet with him face to face.

Lord knew what might happen, considering the man was drunk and that chain message had been a bit…racy. 

Not that you minded very much, you’re not even mad that he woke you up at three in the morning anymore…

Harry ignored the thought.

“No, you’re drunk. I’m going to sleep. I promise I’ll pretend we never had this conversation.”

Harry replied before, finally, silencing his phone.

He was curious, but should he really keep this going? What if Riddle was drunk and woke up the next day with messages from Harry? What if Riddle took that opportunity to irritate him, to make himself into more of a nuisance than he already was in person?

Harry didn’t want that, even if it physically pained him not to see this through. 

God, you’re turning into Hermione. Who are you, Harry Potter?

Harry shifted into a more comfortable position on his bed, ready to shut off his phone and forget that Riddle had messaged him at all when his phone buzzed within his hands once again, nearly half a second after he had replied.

It was as if Riddle was somehow glued to his phone, desperate to see Harry’s response.

Harry snorted at the ridiculousness of the image. Riddle desperate to talk to Harry? It was absurd.

Yet, it didn’t stop Harry from picturing Riddle’s pale face flushed with drunkenness, sitting down in the middle of a rowdy university party, phone in hand as he waited for Harry to answer. Perhaps he had a cheap Pabst beer in hand, or even a bottle of cheap red wine in his free hand as he tried to chase after the allure of intoxication?

It was just so plebeian. So ordinary and unassuming that Harry discarded the image as quickly as it had formed. Though, that didn’t stop him from laughing lowly to himself. 

Harry unlocked his phone against his better judgment and opened the message.

“Im outside.”

Harry swore before jolting in shock when he heard heavy knocking. It was coming directly from the front door at the opposite end of his room.

Harry tried to not to cover his head with his sheets in frustration.

There was no way that Riddle had actually fucking come over. No one was allowed into the building unless they had the key to get onto the elevators. It was strictly enforced. The security in the building notorious for calling the cops if someone stood out in front of the lobby for longer than permitted. Unless Riddle somehow flew into the building through an open window, in the middle of bloody  winter, Harry sincerely doubted Riddle was actually outside.

Harry’s phone buzzed again.

The phone felt hot and heavy in his palm. As though it were physically burning through his palm with the weight of Riddle’s message. He should have ignored the chain message like any sensible person would have. 

But no, Harry just had to be curious. He just had to know. And now, Riddle was standing outside his door, somehow. It was easy to ignore someone through text, but a whole other feat to ignore them while they were standing in front of the door. 

With a sigh, Harry glanced at his phone.

“Its cold out here, harry.”

Ugh.

Harry ripped his sheets from his body, leaving his phone on the bed. He was too upset to even think of taking it with him when he stormed to the door. In fact, it was better that he had left it. Knowing him, he’d fling it directly at Riddle’s face and break the screen, making it the third time in one year that he’d broken his phone.

Harry couldn’t afford to pay for another replacement screen.

Irked, Harry grabbed onto the door and slammed it open. He didn’t care that he was only in pair of green checkered boxers and an over-sized white T-shirt. Riddle was not invited, and if he had a problem with his attire, then he could go suck it.

Riddle was standing inches in front of the door, hair disheveled and clothes completely rumpled. He was dressed in a white, rumpled dress shirt that had several buttons undone at the collar and black dress pants that looked as though they’d seen better days. 

Just what kind of party did Riddle go to?

Harry stared, noting the bright pink flush on Riddle’s cheeks, as if he’d been drinking excessively and had walked through inches of snow in the dark. His eyes were bright, and lit with a mirth that Harry could not recall ever seeing on the man’s face before.

Riddle looked pleased; almost…happy to be standing outside despite the icy breeze that had to be cutting deep into Riddle’s bones. It was bloody freezing, that much Harry could tell when his own feet felt like were turning into ice blocks. The couple seconds Harry had been standing showing just how cold it was, and just how inappropriately dressed he was for the weather.

Not that Riddle was dressed any better. 

“Is there a reason you’re standing in front of my door at three in the fucking morning?” Harry seethed, growing angrier when Riddle suddenly smiled, lips stretching into a predatory grin.

Harry was immediately put on edge.

“I have to tell you ssssomething.” Riddle slurred, taking a step closer.

“And that couldn’t have waited until, you know, later today? After you sobered up?” Harry said, exasperated when Riddle shook his head. The same stupid smile plastered on his handsome face before he took another step closer to the door.

Harry caught the movement, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I thought it was better to tell you in person.”

“Well, go on then. Let’s get this over with so I can get some sleep. Not everyone can be ‘Mr. I’m Too Hot and Too Smart To Study Like Everyone Else.’”

Harry wanted to smack himself. What was he bloody saying?

Had he completely lost his mind? Was he somehow getting drunk by just being in Riddle’s presence? Just what was wrong with him?

Why would he ever say that Riddle was handsome and intelligent to his face?

“Harry.”

Harry was ripped from his thoughts by the authority in the man’s tone. The obvious slur not at all detracting from the seriousness in his voice. It didn’t seem like Riddle had picked up on what Harry had said, and Harry could not have been more relieved.

He was just about to speak, to ask once again for Riddle to get to the bloody point when Riddle bridged the space between them.

It was no more than a second. Riddle had moved so quickly that Harry did not even think to take a step back before the man was invading his space.

Riddle’s breath was warm against his face, a sharp contrast to the arctic air brushing against Harry’s bare legs as he stood frozen by the open doorway.

Riddle’s breath smelled of alcohol–like the whiskey Harry’s dad would break out only on special occasions. It was rich and bitter, and Harry inhaled the sharp scent deeply through his lungs as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

Of what this was because Riddle had never been this close before. The man avoided physical contact like the plague. Always distant, always with his nose held up in the air and completely untouchable.

Riddle was so close that Harry could touch him if he wanted.

“I..think I may not find you as annoying as I once thought.” Riddle murmured, the heat in his voice making Harry’s insides curl pleasantly.

Harry was horrified at his reaction.

“I find that instead of wanting to throttle you for half the things you do that I would much rather do something else.”

Harry’s brain short circuited. His skin was hot, his stomach fluttering so wildly that it was a wonder he hadn’t thrown up the noodles he had eaten for lunch earlier that day. Or was it yesterday, Harry did not know anymore.

This was unbelievable.

Harry did not understand what Riddle was telling him.

No, Harry amended, awestruck, I just can’t believe this.

Harry opened and closed his mouth to speak, but the words refused to come. The way Riddle was looking at him made it impossible to speak, the short distance between them making him hyper aware of just how tall Riddle was and how smooth his skin looked. 

Riddle was so close that all it would take was one measly step and they’d be touching. There would be no gap between their bodies, no space between the skin exposed temptingly at the top of Riddle’s chest or the lips still stretched into a mischievous smile.

Get a grip, Harry.

But there was no shaking off his shock or his attraction to the man. It was impossible to deny that he was interested, that he was tempted by the way Riddle’s lips curled and how those eyes flashed with desire.

It was devious, and the promise in those eyes was impossible to refuse. Especially when Riddle suddenly leaned in, bridging what little space was left between them, to press his lips lightly against his. As though he had somehow sensed the direction Harry’s thoughts had gone and he was only fulfilling the interest Harry was somehow broadcasting on his face?

Harry did not know.

“…won’t you let me in? It is very cold outside, and you look so very warm.” Riddle spoke into his lips.

Harry swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

This was dangerous. A complete and absolute mess waiting to spill over. He was torn, genuinely at a loss at what to do when Riddle sounded so interested and sincere. 

It was unacceptable that Harry was floored. That he didn’t think to automatically push the man back and slam the door in his face. It was the correct thing to do. The sensible and responsible reaction to employ when Riddle was drunk and he had exams to deal with.

Everything about the situation screamed “no.”

But Harry was curious, too bloody interested in finding out just what Riddle had in mind. Even when Riddle, on a good day, just made him want to scream obscenities at him.

This was a bad idea, and he knew it. Hermione would not approve. Hell, not even Ron would approve of something as dumb as this. But Harry was just so curious.

You know what they say…curiosity killed the cat.

Against his better judgment and every strongly held principle Harry had, he slowly nodded in acquiescence.

There was simply no way Harry could refuse.

Not when Riddle was looking at him like he was something to eat, and he wanted nothing more than to be devoured.

[ssnakey-b]

FF8 Translarison, part 2: The field exam

Whoa! The first part was a lot more successful than I expected. Good to see as this what makes it all worth it. Welcome back everyone, and let’s get started!

I did originally intend to check the BGU rules as @aurenare requested but unfortunately, I forgot that we don’t actually get to look around Garden before the exam so that’ll have to wait. For now, let’s meet Quistis in the main Hall.

There actually isn’t much different in this scene but it does provide us with an example of the tiny ways in which I find the French translation to be more subtle than the English one.

You may remember than in the English version, Quistis calls Zell “Lively” and Squall replies “he’s just loud.” But in the French one, he instead says something along the lines of “try overexcited!”. Again, it’s not very different, but I feel like the French version makes Squall sound slightly less dismissive.

Also, if I may go on a bit of a tangent, checking the English and French screenshots side by side made me realize that the text on the map in the background doesn’t look exactly the same, meaning that even in a shot like this where you can’t actually make out the text, they went out of their way to make sure it still look consistent with previous shots! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the attention to detail is incredible.

Anyway, the scene is pretty much the same in both versions, complete with Quistis burning Seifer by wishing him good luck, then Cid arrives.

And oh boy, speaking of subtle changes that make a world of difference, the French version of his speech is a lot more eloquent in my book. I’m actually gonna have to transcribe both versions here to make my point.

Alright, so the English one goes:

“It’s been a while, everyone. How’s everyone doing? This exam will involve 12 members from Squads A through D... You will be proceeding to a real battlefield. Obviously, the battles are for real.

Life and death, victory and defeat, honor and disgrace... each of these go hand in hand. There’s only one way or the other. How ‘bout it? Are you still up for it?

You will be accompanied by 9 SeeD members. Should you fail, these members shall get the job done. They always do. Well, that’s one less worry on your mind.”

The rest of the speech is almost identical so there’s no need to bring it up. Anyway, yeah, between the overly casual tone and him focusing mainly on how there’s no need for the cadets to worry about getting killed because we’ve got replacements who can make up for you thoughtlessly dying, it’s not very inspiring, to say the least. Also, Cid, do you know what “go hand in hand” means? Because things can’t both go hand in hand AND be mutually exclusive.

Now let’s take a look at the French version:

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How are you, today? These tests concern the 12 members of teams A, B, C, and D. You will join a genuine battlefied. The weapons and fights will therefore be real.

It is in situations like these that one shows their true value. I trust you to do BGU proud! Questions? Any doubt at all?

9 Seed members will be accompanying you. In case of error, they will replace you. Therefore, we lower the risks of failure.”

So yeah, yet again, only slight differences but man, the French version sounds a lot more motivating doesn’t it? The second paragraph is especially telling as rather than pseudo-philosophical nonsense and self-contradiction, we get a much more meaningful talk about proving one’s worth and reminding them that they’ve been chosen to represent the elite.

That sounds more like the kind of things people going to a real battlefield for the first time need to hear, and even the mention of being replaced comes across better as it focuses more on how they have the support of veterans, who will remove them from danger should things get too hairy.

And yeah, I guess that’s what he means in the English version as well but after his ranting about life and death, he really sounded like a doomsday prophet.

Next, we skip ahead to the scene of Zell sexually harassing Squall to whip out his “gunblade.” Yes, we must.

It’s still not very different, but once again there is an interesting detail. There’s a running gag in these early stages of the game where Quistis finishes Squall’s sentences as a way to poke fun at how predictable his behaviour can be. It is still present in the French version (although she usually guesses slightly different versions what Squall was about to say), but here, rather than saying “nothing” at the same time as Squall, she loudly clears her throat instead.

As much as I like the running gag, I love this idea as clearing her throat to get students to stop bickering is something a teacher would absolutely do, so it’s fitting and makes Quistis look more professional and assertive. Is Instructor Trepe gonna have to whip a bitch (you’re not allowed to answer that, Irvine, you’re not even in the game yet).

But on top of that, I also like the idea that she wouldn’t pull pranks on Squall like that during a test, both because she doesn’t want to look childish in front of other cadets, but also to avoid making Squall uncomfortable.

It’s also a clever use of body language, as we see Quistis bring her hand to her mouth and shake a bit. Now, I’m pretty sure it was indeed intended to be her giggling, but without sound, it can absolutely be interpreted as her clearing her throat. I know that it’s almost certainly the translator taking liberties, but they did it in a way that added a lot to the scene. Love that!

But I know what you all really want to know: what does French Seifer call Zell instead of “chicken-wuss”? Well, drumroll, please...

Which translates to “hedgehog-head,” obviously as a reference to Zell’s hair. Anyway, now that the really important stuff is out of the way, we get to the ship and meet Xu. Or as we like to call her in France, Shu. Yeah, it was probably just to make her name easier to pronounce.

One very minor change is that Dollet is a kingdom rather than a dukedom here. And I don’t know if it being a dukedom was just a quirk of the English translation, but I kind of wish the French one had kept it because it was a bit different compared to the usual kingdoms and empires (and maybe republics if we’re getting wild).

This is also the first use of the term G-Army in the English version of the game so I’ll bring it up: there is no equivalent in the French version, they usually use terms like “Galbadia’s army” or “the Galbadians”.

One last detail, and probably the most obscure one I’ll bring up in this entire playthrough; in the English version, Xu says that they’re landing at Lapin Beach, but the French one changed it to Zuma Beach. I don’t know why they changed it but if I had to hazard a guess, it’s probably because “Lapin” is already a French word (meaning “rabbit”) and Zuma sounds similar to codenames from the Normandy landing like Utah beach. Also, there’s a Zuma Beach in Los Angeles. It’s probably a coincidence.

Meanwhile, Seifer is whining because it’s what he does best and one particularly weird thing about is that in the English version, he complains about doing Dollet’s “little, dirty work” whereas in the French version, he jokes about “eliminating the slower Seeds”. O-kaaayyyy, guess there are some exceptions to my claim about the French version being more subtle.

And that’s it for the briefing scene. There unfortunately aren’t any interesting differences in what the characters say if you speak to them (meaning I sacrificed SeeD ranks for nothing, dammit!) so let’s get to the action!

We head downtown and I guess Seifer is the one thing where the French translator has decided to make him more over-the-top than he already was in the English one because whereas in the English one, he rather sensibly tells Squall & Zell to scout for enemies, in the French one, he dismissively calls them lackeys.

He is also hurls childish insults at Galbadian soldiers which aren’t present in the English text and generally acts like a brat. What a deep and layered character.

The rest of the scene goes similarly to the English one until Zell questions Seifer’s decision to follow the Galbadians to the tower. For starters, in the French version, he explicitly says they can’t disobey Quistis, rather than just that they can’t disobey orders. But more importantly, when Zell asks Squall to back him up, the French version once again goes in a completely different direction than the English one.

Here’s the English version

And now, the French one.

(Note: Tumblr was blurring out the pictures to the point it was unreadable so I replaced them with links)

Wow! That’s quite possibly even more of a departure than the stuff with Quistis last time! Squall went from siding with Seifer (well, at least half-heartedly accepting to obey his orders) and Zell getting angry that he’s the only one who wants to stick to the orders coming from higher-up, to not only siding with Zell, but borderline threatening Seifer over it!

In the end, the conclusion is the same though, with Squall telling Seifer that if he’s going to insist they do this, he makes his decision quickly.

So they all chill out and head to the tower. Not much different until Selphie appears, which brings us to Seifer’s infamous line about telling Squall about his romantic dream. Ha ha! What a weirdo! Surely the French version isn’t gonna do something as silly and accidentally homoerotic, right?

“One day, I’ll tell you about my intimate dreams!”

DAMMIT SEIFER!! Stop enabling Shippers!

Anyway, time to get to the tower. There’s another minor change that works slightly better in French in my opinion, as Wedge reports to Biggs that a “strange beast” has been spotted in the area, unlike his English counterpart, who says that a “monster-shaped shadow” has been spotted on top of the tower, which is just... awkward.

Nothing of note at the top of tower, but we do get Siren, or should I say...

Ondine?! Well, it’s gonna make meeting the mad scientist weird. Or is it? I ain’t telling, that would spoil future parts.

The chase scene with the giant machine isn’t very dialogue-heavy for obvious reasons, but it’s interesting to point out that instead of the serial-number thing, the French translation renamed it Goliath.

And that’s something that carries on to every machine in the game. The French version gave them all what sounds more like codenames. I know the Japanese version uses the serial numbers too so I know for a fact that this is a quirk of the French script, though i wonder if other localizations use their own names as well.

We make it back to Balamb City, where I took a look around to see if there was anything interesting with NPCs. Only two really grabbed my attention. First is this photographer lady who is hitting on Squall to get him to become her spotlight technician, because the poor guy hasn’t been sexually harassed enough today:

“Hey, you’ve got it where it counts...”

She does that in either version but what’s interesting about her is that in the English version, she eventually tells Squall to forget about it, but in the French version, she asks Squall if he’s interested and... doesn’t follow up on that, which makes the whole thing a bit odd.

Either way, now I really want to read the “what if?” story of Squall’s wacky adventures as a spotlight technician. Get on that AU, fan fic writers!

But now, get ready for another incredible bombshell. keep children and pets away from the screen because the revelation may put you in a coma!

The French Queen of Cards... has a name!! She is named Ishtar, because when you think card games, you of course think of the Babylonian goddess of love, war and sex. Well, we did get war and sex, so I guess it’s not entirely inappropriate (unlike my jokes).

Now, for the survivors, let’s continue. One thing I regret is that while I was playing in English, I managed to trigger a cutscene in Zell’s Ma’s house where she was talking with her neighbour, which I had never seen before. I don’t know what caused it to occur and unfortunately, I couldn’t get it to happen while going through the French version, so I can’t give you a comparison. But if somebody knows how to make it happen, I’d be happy to give it another try.

Back in Balamb Garden University, we see Xu, Cid and Quistis discussing the mission, and they now refer to Dollet as a county. Which is it, guys? Make up your mind. This is also where we find another weird difference in translations, as we can talk to Cid, who asks Squall how he felt on the battlefield.

In the English language, the third option is, of course “whatever”, at which point Cid seems to have a minor breakdown as he goes “Whatever? That’s great! Whatever!” but in the French version, Squall’s answer is changed to “nothing special” (although it switches to “as usual” when Squall actually answers) and Cid’s response is the much more sensible “As usual? My God! What must your daily life be like, Squall?”

Well, I started my day getting my forehead sliced open by a lunatic asshole, then I fought a lava demon, and all that was before being sent to battle, so you tell me. Anyway, things go on pretty much the same in both versions. One notable moment is when Quistis and Xu come to talk to Seifer.

In the English version, he taunts Quistis by calling her a “mediocre instructor” but in the French one, he explicitly says she is a “fired former teacher,” dropping the bomb that Quistis has lost her position as an instructor, and it’s heavily implied that the disciplinary committee had something to do with it.

The graduation goes similarly in both languages (and I love how Zell can’ t quite stay still. The use of body language in this game is amazing), the only real difference being that Cid doesn’t whisper his comments to each graduate. Also, in the French version, after he’s given you the Battle Meter, he gives you more info on it instead of doing this:

Goddammit, Cid. He’s young enough to be your son.

Well, that’s where we’re going to end it for today as Squall goes back to his room, where Selphie tells him to put on his SeeD uniform, and I do love the implication that she and Squall are roommates (or at least neighbours). Oh the potential for comedy if we got to see more of that! Again, get on it, fan fic writers!

See you next time for the graduation ball and Squall being about as good as talking to girls as... well, a socially awkward 17-years-old boy.