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scottymcgeesterwrites · 4 years ago

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Final Fantasy XIII Review

Year: 2009

Original Platform: PlayStation 3

Also available on: Xbox 360, PC, Android, iOS

Version I Played: PlayStation 3

Synopsis:

On the planet Cocoon, those who come into contact with anything from the planet Pulse are purged to that planet. Pulse is a feared planet full of monsters and strange creatures. Both planets are ruled by fal’Cie, mechanical godlike beings who sometimes brand humans as their servants for specific tasks, called a focus. Those who fulfill their focus are turned into crystals and obtain eternal life. Those who do not fulfill their focus turn into mindless monsters. Lightning is a former soldier whose sister, Serah, is branded by a fal’Cie and taken to be purged. Lightning sets off to rescue her.

Gameplay:

Going to say this now – the worst gameplay in the entire Final Fantasy series.

The battles are Active Time Battles but instead of you inputting individual commands, there are what’s called paradigms. Paradigms are somewhat like Job Classes from the old Final Fantasy games, except less fun and more automated. You can switch to a Medic paradigm in battle and every time you press “Auto-Battle” your character automatically performs a series of necessary cure and restore spells, based on what’s going on in the battle. The Sentinel paradigm specializes in keeping the enemy at bay. The Ravager paradigm uses magic. The Commando paradigm uses physical attacks. You get the picture.

As a result, the gameplay could be best described as:

With occasional switching of paradigms whenever you see fit. You can set up a number of combinations across the characters. Two Commandos and one Sentinel. One Sentinel and one Ravager and One Commando, etc.

The party automatically heals after each battle – you can even press start during a battle and restart the battle.

I probably only used an item once or twice. I honestly don’t see why they bothered putting any items if you hardly ever use them.

You can upgrade your weapons with pieces and junk you find after battles. You find so many of them that you hardly ever think about what you’re upgrading so long as whatever you make upgrades your stats. Is this better? No? What about this? Okay, good. Moving on.

Like Final Fantasy X, the game is linear. Much more linear. You follow a long hallway for about 30 hours of the game before you can do sidequests. The sidequests involve completing other people’s focus. That’s about it. There are no towns, no inns, no villages. You are entirely on the road, constantly in battle (Okay, there’s like one time where Sazh and Vanille are in a casino or something but that’s about it).

I wrote a blog piece a while back about what exactly was wrong with Final Fantasy XIII, and it’s not that it’s linear. We play really great linear games all the time. It’s the automation – the feeling that you’re not really doing anything.

There isn’t an ounce of customization. Leveling up is similar to the Sphere Grid of Final Fantasy X. It’s called the Crystarium but it follows a strict path. You can’t actually stray anywhere or customize anything. If that’s the case, why bother making you open the menu to level up through the Crystarium? Why not just automatically do it? I guess they want to give you some ounce (more like a milligram) of control over the game.

Basically – you’re watching a long movie and occasionally get to move the people around. That’s how I see it.

Graphics:

PLAYSTATION 3 HD GRAPHICS HOMG DO YOU HAVEA BONER YET? LOOK AT THIS. FIRST FINAL FANTASY GAME IN GLORIOUS HD.

Everything is pretty in this game. Everything. There is nothing wrong with this at all.

Story:

The characters appear to reference those in Final Fantasy VII. Director Motomu Toriyama wanted Lightning to essentially be a female Cloud Strife. She’s a no-nonsense, athletic female lead. While Cloud and Squall were introspective and antisocial, Lightning is slightly different by actively ordering people around. She comes off as a dick to everyone, and that’s due to her ex-soldier background. Think of your stereotypical ex-cop/ex-CIA/ex-military action movie hero, like Liam Neeson (Bryan Mills in Taken) or Bruce Willis (John McClane in Die Hard). That’s basically Lightning.

Can we go on a short tangent for a moment to talk about how weird it is that Lightning was also used as a model for advertising in Japan?

Here she is driving a Nissan.

And wearing Louis Vitton.

Cool? I guess? Unless you start to realize that Toriyama wanted to design his own personal waifu, and that he’s completely obsessed with her. That gets really weird. And sad? A little? Anyway.

Vanille has some reminiscent of Yuffie from Final Fantasy VII, although with more character via her inner monologues and narration. Fang is vaguely like Vincent Valentine. Sazh takes the place of Barrett as the token black dude, except instead of being aggressive he’s more like the comic relief and wants nothing to do with anything. Every time you control him, jazz music plays, because black people I guess. Hope doesn’t appear to be reminiscent of anyone – he’s just this boy who yells and complains a lot with Lightning. Snow meanwhile is a ripoff of Zell from Final Fantasy VIII, except somehow even more annoying.

(Every time I see his picture I think about your typical dude bro at a frat.)

The story starts of a bit choppy as you follow almost each character separately, then they run into each other, then separate again, then join again. The first 30 hours or so gives flashbacks of 13 days prior- BECAUSE IT’S FINAL FANTASY XIII GET IT? Vanille actually narrates some events but it’s not exactly clear why or from when – but that’s a spoiler. Along the way, I got really confused because I didn’t know why some people were fighting each other when they were on the same side a moment ago. The concept of the “focus” is really weird and sometimes confusing. People with a focus simply have visions or a general idea of what they’re supposed to do, but they don’t actually know for sure unless they actively seek it. If the gods granted them a focus, wouldn’t it make more sense if the gods just told them what to do? Seemed to work in Final Fantasy XII.

In short, the narrative weaves around a lot. If you stop playing in the middle and pick up the game again months later, you’re bound to forget what’s going on. I know I did.

The characters didn’t annoy me as much as you would think they would on paper. They all have character development and that’s good. The only character that effectively got on my nerves was Snow. Snow is Serah’s fiancé, and Lightning hates him because of course you need some family drama. I don’t blame Lightning though. Snow shouts cheesy lines left and right, like “Heroes never die!”. He shouts Serah’s name the same way Christian Bale shouts Rachel’s name in the Christopher Nolan Batman films. Snow is quite possibly the most irritating character of all the Final Fantasy games. He will not shut the fuck up about what it means to be a hero.

The rest of the cast works well in that their motives and desires clash with each other. But I’m still sore about the wasted potential for a great character in Jihl Nabaat. Sazh wants his son Dejh back, who was taken to be purged by the sinister and extremely hot Jihl Nabaat.

Goddaaayyyum. Seriously, look at her.

Too bad, because she’s only featured in a handful of scenes and then dies. Her death isn’t a major spoiler, at least one that I consider, because she hardly does anything except get in the way for a moment. You don’t even fight her. How lame is that?

Then you have this annoying bastard – Primarch Dysley.

When I think of him, I think of Mitch McConnell.

Old. Disagreeable. Been in power for too long. Always in the way of progress.

Primarch Dysley happens to be as annoying as Seymour from Final Fantasy X, so expect to be overjoyed every time you run into him.

Overall, the story isn’t as bad as you’d think. You just have to pay close attention. The gameplay is far worse than the story. I could easily slip into a coma while playing this game and still make it pretty far.

Music:

Final Fantasy XII saw the departure of Nobuo Uematsu (well with the exception of the pop song “Kiss Me Goodbye”). Final Fantasy XIII continues to head into the unknown without the beloved longtime composer. This game’s score is composed entirely by Masashi Hamauzu, who if you haven’t been paying attention, already partly worked on Final Fantasy X. I immediately saw how “Saber’s Edge”, the boss theme, is similar in nature to the boss theme of Final Fantasy X.

Final Fantasy XIII made the most radical changes to the score. There are no signature themes from the series. No “Prelude” theme, no “Main Theme”, no “Victory Fanfare” theme. Instead, we get a theme called “Fabula Nova Crystallis”. It plays frequently throughout the game, and almost acts as Serah and Snow’s love theme. In some portions of the game, some woman is singing along. Yes – this is the first time where you roam around a world in a Final Fantasy game with actual pop music playing in the background – “Sunleth Waterscape” to be exact. Final Fantasy XIII’s music gets pretty poppy.

youtube

Not saying it’s a bad idea.

Just.

You got pop music playing in the background now.

“Lightning’s Theme” is pretty sick. Her theme plays during the battles in a rendition called “Blinded by Light” – HA GET IT BECAUSE SHE’S LIGHTNING. SO CLEVER.

But Hamauzu was a good choice – the entire score holds up well and sounds like a movie score, with varying motifs running across. It can be a bit more subdued but that’s how contemporary instrumental music is nowadays, especially with film composers like Hans Zimmer.

Notable Theme:

“Blinded by Light”

Really epic, unique song. I always scat along to it as it plays.

youtube

Verdict:

Uff.

Look, if you just search on YouTube for all the cutscenes, there you go. That’s the game. And it’s entertaining to watch. But it has the worst gameplay that doesn’t feel like you’re even doing anything. No sense of customization or originality.

Direct Sequel?

Yes, two.

Final Fantasy XIII-2.

I started it around the time it first came out, but I’m still in the middle of playing it and I have no idea what’s going on in the story. NO idea. NONE at all. They use time travel but none of it makes sense. Apparently changing things in the future can change the past. I don’t know how. I only understand a vague semblance of a plot with the bad guy Caius. While it doesn’t tarnish the dignity of the original like Final Fantasy X-2 did, it’s still offbeat with its metal (yes, metal) music and utterly confounding story. It’s infamous for this metal rendition of the sweet and innocent Chocobo theme.

Then there’s the third game, Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII

I plan on playing it after I finish Final Fantasy XIII-2, if I don’t already die from an aneurysm by then. It’s supposed to be better than Final Fantasy XIII-2 but lacking in graphics.

#final fantasy #final fantasy xiii #final fantasy xiii-2 #lightning returns #lightning #final fantasy lightning #cloud strife #cloud clone #vanille #jihl nabaat #mitch mcconnell #video games #rpg #video game rpg #fantasy rpg #onvideogames

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lady-therion · 5 years ago

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Elriel prompt: “Dandelions ARE weeds” (In light of spring and how those yellow monsters are coming to plague us ALL)

A/N: I decided that I wanted to cut out hearts today. Slightly NSFW.

***

With You, in the Shadows

***

Elain knows that her lover can be cold.

Colder than the unforgiving winters spent in her father’s cottage. Colder than the unfathomable depths of the Cauldron. Colder than death. For even death can be merciful and Azriel is not. She knows that he’s not.

But she lies with him anyway. He may be as sharp as a dagger’s edge, but he has always been soft with her. His family.

“You’re a gleam in the dark,” he told her one night, driving into her body at a slow and torturous pace. He consumed her, devoured her, engraved every sigh and scream into his memory. When it comes to her pleasure, Azriel is attentive, precise. “I will never stop craving you.”

It’s true. He never did.

But for all his boundless devotion, his hatred is immutable; as much a part of him as his shadows are. He hides it well. He’s had centuries of practice. To enemies, it appears as a mask of civility and decorum. In fact, the angrier he grew, the more charming his mask became. The time to truly fear him is not when he snarls or clenches his fist. It’s when he greets you with a courtier’s smile and a deferential bow. Elain knows this because she wore that mask too, once upon a time. In ballrooms, in dining halls, in champagne parlors. It is the perfect tool for a spymaster to trap unwitting flies.

Though what Azriel could conceal from others, he could not do so with her. They share no bond. They share something else — she is the only living being who can hear the song of his shadows.

Today that song is filled with discord. So when she finds him in their garden, still as a statue, she bids him to lie in the grass and place his head on her lap. Then she smooths over his hair until he thaws.

Then he thaws.

“My father’s wife did not keep a garden,” he tells her, slowly.

His father’s wife, she thought, the woman who kept him locked away because she abhorred his mother.

“When I was…released for the day, they would take me in chains to stand in a stone courtyard. I yearned to see the sun, just as I yearn to see you.” He twists a lock of her hair around his fingers. “Besides that, I saw dandelions growing through the rock. Green and growing things did not thrive in my cell. So I did not know what they were, at first. I asked my half-brothers if they were flowers.” He paused. “Then they told me no, they were dandelions. They are weeds, and are unwanted. Just like you.”

Elain does not offer him platitudes or pity. She knows this is not what he needs. No, what her beloved needs is for someone to see his pain, to honor it, and know that it will be with him forever. Just like his scars.

“I had a childish wish that I could be like those dandelions. To be able to drift away, somewhere else on the wind.” He closes his eyes when she leans down to kiss him. I’m here, her kiss says. I’m with you.

“Elain,” he whispers, like a prayer. “Why do you stay?”

He asks her this from time to time, especially when he feels melancholy.

Because she had once been a fixture in those glittering and golden worlds, and found them false and wanting. Because she had once put her faith in a man who would rather cherish his self-righteousness than cherish her as a wife. Because she had fallen in love with the darkness, as her younger sister did, and realized that she had never felt safer than in the arms of the abyss.

“Because I would rather be here with you, in the shadows.”

***

Thanks for reading, loves.

And thanks for the prompts ;)

Got quite a few requests to be tagged in the drabbles too, so (retroactively) tagging these baes: @illyrianbeauty, @sunsummoner, @tessas-herondales, @jemma-nessian-and-elriel, @abillionlittlepieces, @tntwme, @rosehallshadowsinger, @maastrash, @julesherondalex, @wolffrising, @stardustsroses, @voiceoftheroses, @katexrenee, @highlady-brittney, @goldbooksblack, @mariamuses, @alexisnm95, @tswaney17, @rowanismybae, @elide-lochan-salvaterre @ourbooksuniverse, @cruelwickedthing, @shadowazriel, @a-trifling-matter, @kaliejane26, @wewhohavefailed, @elide-lochan-salvaterre, @empress-ofbloodshed, @lordof-bloodshed, @katshrev, @writer-reader-traveller, @whyyoumakemesadstahp, @captain-timetraveldreamer, @awesomethreedragons, @escapingtheconstrictingboxes, @thenameisjaida-blog, @moonbeammadness, @leulivy, @fantasy-faes, @poisonwhiterose, @fucking-winchester-trash, @maddieimhot, @ame233, @xinyourdreamsx, @feyaelin-rowsand, @queenofillea1, @rosalesgold, @aelins-fire-queen, @rhysanoodle, @dreamerforever-5, @ben-roll-io, @azrielismycinnamonrollprimary, @hope-unswervingly, @illyriangarbage, @feysand-dot-acotar, @faequeenaelin, @illyrian-bookworm, @propagandaprincess, @musicmaam, @velarian-trash, @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn, @featherymalignancy, @thesirenwashere, @tryingtokeeptrying, @stars-falling

Send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged, untagged, or I forgot you because of a silly mistake.

Check out my full Masterlist in my Bio / I am Lady_Therion on AO3

#elriel #elriel fic #elriel angst #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #azriel #elain archeron #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #prompts

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radramblog · 3 years ago

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I would like Pokémon Unite to fail.

This might be somewhat of an unexpected statement, considering it’s coming from as lifelong and dedicated a fan of the franchise as I am, but I don’t think Pokémon Unite is a good thing for gaming, let alone the franchise as a whole. How I arrive at this statement, we’ll get into.

For the unaware, Unite is a recently released free-to-play MOBA for the Switch and soon to release on iOS and Android devices. While the game is published by Nintendo/The Pokémon Company, it was developed entirely by another company, TiMi Studio Group (a subsidiary of Tencent), which to be clear isn’t really a rabbit hole I’m going to delve into in particular.

I will admit my reasons for writing this post are kinda petty. I don’t like the game in concept, and I’m sick of hearing about it, what with every single Pokémon content outlet dedicating their time to the new shiny thing. And I also have yet to play it, and I don’t plan on changing that. Despite this, I think my concerns should still ring as valid.

So why is Unite bad?

There’s a lot to talk about here, and I’d recommend this video by Curio (a fine purveyor and producer of video content) to get a better gist of it. Here is my version, effectively, of their explanation.

Free-to-play* games have had a long tradition of being scummier than their paid counterparts, with multitudes of content or options locked behind paywalls that are justified by the fact that they’re 1. Typically relatively small and 2. In a game that’s technically free. As largely fine as that sounds on paper, games like these are effectively designed to make you want to spend money on them, often with attractive bonuses or benefitting the spendier player numerically or all sorts of other underhanded tactics. It’s a tactic pioneered by the mobile games (and Facebook games) of a decade ago, and still frightfully common today in the form of Gacha games and the like.

MOBA (Multiplayer Online Battle Arena) games are far from an exception to this, with games like League of Legends and Heroes of the Storm (and Pokémon Unite) locking their playable characters behind a paywall, often one that’s grindable but inconvenient to do freely. As well, these games effectively encourage buying and playing many characters, what with balance adjustments often making popular characters no longer viable for serious play (or making an unpopular one much more viable), and the power creep of newer characters making it so you have to be playing newer stuff to be succeeding. It’s a lot like what you see in trading card games, frankly, except in those you can at least sometimes convert your cards back into money.

Unite has all these problems and more, including loot boxes, deliberately confusing currency systems, and that thing where you can only buy slightly more in-game currency then you need so there’s always a bit leftover that you can’t quite spend on anything relevant. This is not explicitly the problem, considering it’s no different to other games of the genre.

The problem is that it’s marketed towards children. Because it’s Pokémon, basically, and not a dark fantasy like LoL or DoTA or a compilation of more teen+ targeted characters like in HoTS and Smite. And targeting kids with something this scummy is just kind of completely fucked.

There’s another element to this I’d like to add in as a long-time Pokémon fan. For a very long time, the collection of corporate interests that make up The Pokémon Company (Nintendo, Game Freak, and Creatures Inc) were extremely conservative with who could produce their spin-off games, with them almost entirely being restricted to Nintendo consoles. Genius Sorority (Colosseum, XD, Trozei and its sequels, Battle Revolution, Café Mix), Hudson Soft (the TCG Game Boy Games), Jupiter Corporation (Pinball and Pinball RS) Chunsoft (the Mystery Dungeon games), HAL Laboratory (Snap, Stadium 1/2/JP, Ranger), and Ambrella (the Rumble series, Hey You Pikachu, Channel, Dash, and Ranch, and they would later be acquired by Creatures Inc) are the big names in the list of developers I could find (not including crossovers like Conquest and Pokken), and all of them share a few things in common. They are all Japanese game developers, they all (save Hudson and Chunsoft) make games exclusively for Nintendo consoles, and they all have extremely solid track records or are new companies built by people with history in the industry. This was the only subset of developers TPC trusted in making games with their intellectual property, and with only a few exceptions, the games they were putting out were pretty good.

Except Hey You Pikachu, what the fuck were they thinking for that one, holy moly.

This changed about 5 years ago, when TPC realised they were basically sitting on one of the biggest and most beloved franchises on the entire planet, and that by branching out to people who weren’t interested in paying for a Nintendo console but still liked Pokémon, they could make a lot more money, and also increase interest in their main series games. This is where we got Pokémon Go from, and we all know how well that turned out for them. Very, very well is how.

Since PoGo’s release in 2016, many more Pokémon branded games have made their way out into the world beyond the 3DS and Switch. The Trozei and Rumble spinoff series got mobile games, the charming Magikarp Jump released in ’17, Game Freak’s own Pokémon mobile game, Pokémon Quest, released a year after that.

At the time of its release, I had thought Pokémon Masters, a deadass Pokémon Gacha, would be the height of this trend. There are few things to be more cynical about than a gacha, them being some of the worst of freemium mobile gaming, but also a trend that has been trending steadily upward ever since the surprising and explosive popularity of Fate: Grand Order and Fire Emblem Heroes. It felt somewhat like selling out, which in retrospect is kind of odd when you’re talking about as huge a franchise as Pokémon.

This brings us to the real culmination (so far) of this phenomenon in the form of Pokémon Unite. It’s a game that feels like a bandwagon jump, hurling itself onto a near-decade old trend and hoping to succeed because it’s Pokémon. And it probably will succeed, at least for now, considering the game’s popularity and continuous updates. And that really does worry me. I think people have a right to be concerned about the state of the franchise, considering how successful its side games, its freemium offerings, are tending to be, and how decidedly okay this generation of mainline games has been leaning so far. I am still cautiously optimistic about the future of said mainline entries, but to be frank, Unite scares me.

I brought up cynicism earlier, but ultimately Pokémon Unite is a cynical game. It is clinically precise in its handling of its IP and its monetization, to the point where if you’d asked somebody to describe the consumer-side issues with freemium and MOBAs, you’d probably get a laundry list of Unite’s intentional design. I am concerned that this cynicism is what’s going to define the franchise as a whole going forward.

What’s next, Pokémon Battle Royale? Pokémon FPS- wait that’s just Snap isn’t it.

#ramble #pokemon #pokemon unite #look fam it's just not my genre

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redwritinghood · 4 years ago

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Omg first of all you wrote enemy of my enemy??? I loved it so much omggg!!! Second of all, if you're still taking prompts i would love an au where marlas didnt happen and damen is officially courting laurent so they always need chaperons but they always escape them to be alone and aleron and theomedes are NOT happy about this

Technically still writing The Enemy of My Enemy but thank you, always enjoy being appreciated :)

Writing this with that “shy bookish boy” in mind where Laurent has wonderfully not had to face the book tragedies.

Damen saw the large willow tree that matched the description he’d been given and swung off the horse to land in knee high grass next to the river bank. He dropped the reins, allowing the horse to freely graze. Inside the natural tent of the willow branches was a private space. The shade was a relief, but the summer day was still too hot to be fully clothed. Fumbling with the excessive lacing, Damen loosened the sweat dampened shirt. The servant assigned to help him dress had been scandalized when Damen rejected the undershirt. One was already excessive.

Somewhat freed of the oppressive garment he proceeded to remove his boots and collapsed into the grass. It was a relief to be outside of the palace, away from the over-attentive servants and curious nobility. Arles felt stuffy and confining, unlike Ios that was open to the outside with balconies and outdoor walkways. This excursion to the outdoors was needed almost more than Damen had realized.

A patch of wildflowers mingled in the grass next to him and he collected a handful to begin weaving the stems together. This part of the river was more sedated than the frothing white rapids where Damen had accidentally rescued the crown prince of Vere.

It had been several years but was still something Damen frequently thought on, back when the war between Vere and Akielos had seemed inevitable. While on a scouting trip, a fierce storm had arisen, separating Damen and Nikandros from the rest of their party and driven them into the forest for shelter. Somewhere during the midst of the violent tempest they unknowingly crossed the border into Vere. In the aftermath, they emerged on the Northern side, stumbling upon a raider camp next to the river. Realizing they had followed the river in the wrong direction the intent was to turn around without altercation but Damen had seen the raider’s blond prisoner.

Nikandros had protested vehemently but ultimately followed Damen on his rescue mission. They had the advantage of surprise but were greatly outnumbered. The fight could have gone badly, but once the blond prisoner was released and obtained a weapon the fight quickly shifted in their favor.

Once the battle was won, the prisoner revealed himself as Prince Auguste. Similarly, Damen candidly introduced himself despite Nikandros’ elbow in his ribs.

There was a moment of uncertainty as they faced each other with swords still drawn. Then, surprisingly, Auguste laughed and sheathed the weapon. The two sanguine princes recognized each other as kindred spirits and agreed that this was an opportunity. Auguste wanted to introduce Damen to King Aleron, perhaps forging the beginnings of an alliance or to at least assuage the impending war. The royal family was in Marlas and only half a day's ride away. Nikandros continued to speak his objections but followed Damen, preferring to die with him than because of him.

Once hearing of the rescue and how close he had been to losing Auguste, King Aleron accepted Damen almost too graciously. Eager to offer him a reward for saving his eldest son.

“I would offer you Auguste’s hand if he weren’t already betrothed and needed to continue the line,” Aleron said.

“I don’t need a reward,” Damen said uncomfortably. It wasn’t his reason for meeting the king and Auguste was perhaps equally surprised how well the enemy Akielon prince had been received.

“I have a younger son,” Aleron said.

“Father.” Auguste objected, obviously disagreeing with this idea.

Damen’s side was going to be bruised from Nikandros’ elbow. This time he agreed with him and was looking for a polite way to escape.

“That’s really alright—” Damen began.

“Someone fetch Laurent,” Aleron ordered, and servants hurried to do his bidding.

“You’re bruising me,” Damen whispered. That insistent elbow still poking his side.

“We need to leave before you’re engaged,” Nikandros hissed.

“I’m trying,” Damen said under his breath. It would be impossible to explain the arrangement to his father.

“Ah, here he is,” Aleron gestured when the doors to the court were opened.

Damen turned as he heard Nikandros say, “Oh no.”

Hoofbeats pulled Damen from the recollection. He sat up only to be knocked back down by a body colliding with his.

“You know,” Damen said when he caught his breath, “your brother thinks I’m the one corrupting his shy little brother.”

“Auguste still sees me as a child.” Laurent unwrapped his arms from Damen’s neck and pulled back to see his face. “Hi,” he blushed.

“Hi,” Damen smiled.

“May I?” he asked. Damen looked into the blue eyes, so unbearably close, and nodded.

This was his third visit to Arles to see his fiance. Laurent had been barely thirteen when he was suddenly and unwillfully promised to the former enemy. Understandably, he had been unhappy. When Damen returned to Ios, he wrote several letters hoping to learn more about him. It was several months before he received a short response answering questions in a brusque dismissive fashion that impressively relayed little information. Damen suspected Auguste or someone else had forced Laurent to respond. Despite the discouraging reply Damen persisted.

During the first visit, Laurent had been predictably detached, and Damen spent most of his time with Auguste. But because Laurent was Auguste’s second shadow, they consequently spent time together. He typically opted out of any sport or game that Damen and Auguste would partake in but always stood as witness. Damen hadn’t expected much interaction from Laurent, he was still young, and unfairly betrothed. However, by the end of that stay Laurent was noticeably less callous.

The next visit Laurent had altered from the suspicious aloofness to a timid interest now trailing Damen, even without Auguste’s presence. With a hesitant eagerness Laurent shared his favorite scrolls, his thoughts on the recent philosophy debates, and introduced Damen to his horse. The shy sincerity was incredibly endearing and Damen suspected there weren’t many people Laurent was comfortable sharing his thoughts with. He loved that Laurent was slowly opening up to him and Damen hoped he did nothing to dissuade him.

Written communication increased significantly. The letters used to be a burden, something Damen forced himself to do. When Laurent began to open up, the conversation surpassed interesting to exciting. Damen was almost intimidated by the intelligent penpal and his fascinating perspective.

This was the first visit since Laurent had turned eighteen. As if to demonstrate this Laurent had physically matured and it was impossible not to notice. The guard detail had been instructed to be in constant attendance. The two princes were not allowed to be alone together. Because of this, they had not even kissed. The building anticipation had become nearly suffocating. To Damen, even holding hands had become an illicit act. Laurent sliding closer on benches or couches until their knees touched had nearly driven Damen mad. And it was Laurent initiating most contact, exasperating his guards when they had to find a way to respectfully peel the prince off the Akielon visitor.

This was the moment, and Damen felt it with an ache through his entire body. He slipped a hand into the blond hair, holding the beautiful face. Shyly, Laurent leaned in, eyelashes dipping. Damen pressed forward, carefully, restraining himself against rushing Laurent. Lips met tentatively, just a ticklish brush. It wasn’t enough, but Laurent had drifted back, eyes still closed.

“Laurent,” Damen whispered, and felt Laurent’s breath against his cheek. He resisted the desire to pull him in and take his mouth. The quiet hesitation evoked one of Damen’s fears that after all of this Laurent wouldn’t find him appealing. Being forced to sit still and endure the silence was torture.

Having Vere’s beloved younger prince in a compromising position above him made Damen equally excited and nervous. The peace between their countries was tentative and they were constantly observed so there was no slight or breach in protocol. What had been an expression of gratitude had turned political and restrictive. Theomedes saw the engagement as another war to be won and constantly warned Damen against any affection. This attitude had bled over into Vere and Aleron had become of a similar mindset. It may have even been his initial mindset when proposing the engagement. Having his offspring rulers of two seperate countries was a good tactical maneuver. Meanwhile, Theomedes searched for candidates that would produce an heir. This hung over Damen’s head, he wanted to tell Laurent, but it was a private matter, not something he wanted to share with the Veretian and Akielon guards. They could be bigger gossips than kitchen maids.

That thought was silenced when Laurent’s eyes opened, the blue so bright it was almost startling, then miraculously, he smiled and Damen stopped breathing.

“Again?” Laurent asked. It took Damen a moment to realize he was asking for another kiss.

“You want to?”

“Yes,” he breathed.

Damen’s heart sang as he grinned, “You don’t have to ask with me.”

In response, Laurent’s arms slid around his neck and this kiss was the one Damen had needed. Deeper and longer. Laurent opened his mouth, hands sliding into Damen’s hair. He moved closer bodies now pressed together. Damen held him, arms around his waist.

“Was that— alright?” Laurent asked once they had separated and he had caught his breath.

Damen held Laurent’s face between his hands, “Yes, it was more than alright.” He kissed Laurent’s forehead, the timid innocence was so endearing he thought his heart would burst.

“You were also— adequate,” Laurent said with a blush.

Damen laughed, “Thanks.”

“I brought my favorite poetry scroll,” Laurent said scrambling up to retrieve the scroll from his horse’s saddlebag.

While Laurent read lounging in the grass, Damen continued the flower crown and when finished placed it on top of the golden head. The blue and white flowers remained in his hair through another interlude of kissing.

After some persuasion Damen recited Akielon poems and epics in his native tongue. Laurent settled in next to him, head on his shoulder to look up at the sun filtering through the twisted branching. The flowers still in his hair.

“Are they all about war and conquering?” he asked.

“The most popular ones are. Warriors are highly regarded.”

“Were you ever disappointed that our engagement averted a war?”

“No,” Damen said. “I would be nervous to fight Auguste in serious combat, he’s very skilled.”

“I initially comforted myself by realizing that the engagement would essentially end all wars between our countries. And with Auguste as king of Vere I was certain I could manipulate you and mediate some hundred year treaty.”

The confession made Damen laugh, “You wouldn’t have to manipulate me. Whatever archaic dispute that led our elders to war no longer applies to us.”

“Is that a promise?” Laurent asked sitting up to look down at Damen.

“A promise that while we’re alive there will be no war between our countries?” Damen asked.

“Yes.”

“I promise,” he said and was surprised when Laurent dropped down to cup his face and fervently kiss him.

In the thick heat of the summer afternoon, Laurent was persuaded to remove his boots and step into the river. Damen knew removing his clothes to bathe in the river would be an affliction on the tender Veretian sensibilities. As if to prove this Laurent had turned red when Damen removed his outer garment wearing only pants. Damen frequently caught him staring and would watch him blush and turn away. Not much coaxing was needed to bring Laurent into an embrace and kiss him while they stood waist-deep in the river. The cool pale hands traveled up his biceps to his shoulders almost reverently.

“Laurent.” Auguste’s voice was a baritone traveling forcefully over the water. They had been discovered.

Damen pulled on his boots as the brother’s argued. So far Damen had witnessed Laurent win every argument against anyone who dared oppose him, with the exception of Auguste who seemed to be more of a blind spot than a master debater. The two sets of guards were not far behind and with the older brother’s instruction the younger was whisked away.

Damen took his time as he dreaded redressing in the complicated jacket and lacing it by himself.

“I trust our agreement still stands.” Auguste sat next to Damen in the grass while he tried to reassemble his shirt.

“I haven’t fucked your brother.” The agreement to not sleep with Laurent until their wedding night had been easy to make when Laurent was thirteen.

“I don’t blame you for your efforts, I bedded my wife before our consummation. But he’s my little brother, I still feel— protective.”

This confession only further irritated Damen and he briefly imagined shattering the innocent image Auguste held of Laurent. It wasn’t Damen initiating physical contact and arranging secret dates.

“I won’t start anything,” Damen said. It was a little dishonest considering Auguste was blind to his younger brother’s burgeoning sexuality.

“I appreciate it,” Auguste said, then reached over to help Damen with his laces.

Dinner that evening was uncomfortable. Laurent, with the flower crown still in his hair, was unremorseful and the two brothers had not reconciled. It was clear they had never been at odds before and the court was unsure how to react to the feuding siblings.

After retiring to his chambers, Damen was settling in for the night when a noise outside his balcony disturbed him. Laurent dropped down out of the night but the more surprising part was how he was dressed.

“Where did— where did you get that?”

“I had it made. Is it accurate?” Laurent did a little twirl to show off the chiton and the fabric lifted revealing even more thigh.

Damen had to sit down, he had never seen more than hands and feet. “Not bad. Did you have the sandals made also?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Damen asked, he was having trouble breathing. Not only was the flower crown still present on the blond head but the chiton was especially short and the knee-high sandals drew special attention to the bare thighs.

“Isn’t this the fashion in Ios?” Laurent asked. “Am I expected to dress strictly as a Veretian once we’re married?”

“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself,” Damen said, “We still have over a year.”

“I like to be prepared,” Laurent said and adjusted the white cloth. Damen looked away, there had been the slight glimpse of pink nipple. If he was going to uphold his promise to Auguste he would have to make Laurent leave. But he really didn’t want that, any of their time together was precious.

“What’s wrong?” Laurent asked.

“You can’t be here.” Damen had averted his eyes. “We aren’t supposed to be alone together.”

“That didn’t bother you this afternoon,” Laurent said and stood still observing Damen. “Did I do something?”

“No,” Damen said and reached out. Laurent accepted the offered hand and allowed Damen to pull him down into the seat next to him. The damn chiton was even shorter sitting down. “If we weren’t already engaged I would be on my knee in front of your father asking for your hand.”

Laurent’s blue eyes hadn’t softened, “Then what is it?”

Damen knew there shouldn’t be any secrets between them, “I made a promise to your brother that I would wait until our wedding night for— you know.”

With an exhale Laurent slid onto Damen’s lap. “My brother has no say or control over my body. If I decide I’m ready now isn’t that my decision?”

“Of course,” Damen nearly choked. His hands came up automatically to hold Laurent’s waist. “Unless you find me unappealing,” Laurent said.

“No one finds you unappealing,” Damen said and helplessly tugged Laurent closer.

“I realize now that your hesitation was trying to respect your promise. It’s an honorable trait.” Laurent smoothed a hand into Damen’s hair, the cool palm cupping his face. “However, any further decisions regarding my body are to be made by me.”

“Understood,” Damen grinned.

“My current decision is to allow you to take me to bed.” The coy smile almost physically hurt.

“Laurent,” Damen groaned. His head dropped onto the bare shoulder. “I want you so badly.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want to risk offense. We’re not even supposed to be alone together. I can’t lose you.” Damen spoke against Laurent’s shoulder noticing how goosebumps blossomed across the pale skin.

Laurent was quiet briefly, stroking Damen’s hair, “The engagement was not my decision, but as the younger prince I expected it was my fate to be traded for some political or financial gain. The bids even began before I turned twelve.” Laurent watched Damen’s hair slip between his fingers. “I thought I was prepared, but I didn’t expect to be— happy. I don’t intend to lose you either.”

Damen’s heart swelled as he lifted his head to look into the beautiful face. “May I?” he asked, smiling.

“You don’t need to ask.” Laurent also smiled as he leaned in. It was still new, each kiss better than the last. This time Laurent took more control, his head above Damen’s and with both hands smoothing through his hair. Boldly Damen traced a hand up the bare thigh feeling Laurent’s reaction with his body so close.

“What is this?” Damen asked when his fingers ran into a slice of unknown fabric.

“I didn’t know what was typically worn beneath these so I fashioned something myself.” Laurent lifted the skirt revealing cloth crudely made to fit between his legs and around his hips. “Why are you laughing?”

Any other time Laurent’s unconscious reveal of so much flesh would have almost stopped Damen’s heart but the strange little modest piece of clothing was so ridiculous and unexpected

“There’s nothing worn beneath them?” Laurent asked, more fascinated than scandalized.

“No,” Damen said, he had barely managed to explain through the laughter.

“It must be very warm there.”

“Compared to here, yes. I can’t wait to show you,” Damen said using his mouth to find the pulse point in Laurent’s neck. The soft sigh reminded him where they had been going before Laurent’s reveal. The kissing continued softly, Laurent tenderly exploring the act with lips and tongue. He pressed closer, their bodies together. Damen detoured to the slender neck, recalling that initial reaction with that soft sound. He wasn’t disappointed, the reaction was innocent and genuine. The quiet moan of pleasure would have brought Damen to his knees. Unconsciously, Laurent’s head tipped back allowing Damen more access. His hands traveled beneath the chiton he held Laurent at the natural dip in his waist, the skin warm. This startled him and he flinched before exhaling with a nervous laugh.

“I suppose that is one advantage to wearing so little clothing.”

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Damen asked.

“Yes, I’ve just never— it’s my first time.”

“I’m a little more experienced than that,” Damen said, his thumbs stroking the smooth skin of his stomach.

“Yes, that is apparent,” Laurent said, his face had warmed slightly, responding to Damen’s touch.

“Really?” Damen asked, pleased. Laurent made a sound of affirmation before resuming the kiss. He unthinkingly reacted to the caress against his abdomen with a movement of his hips that ground against Damen. He was going to flip Laurent onto his back and escalate the encounter when the door to his chambers opened.

Damen was frustrated and horrified to find not only the prince’s guards invading his quarters but also Auguste and King Aleron. Laurent stood up with a sigh straightening the chiton with no self-consciousness or embarrassment. The blue eyes lifted towards the invaders, prepared for battle. He couldn’t have been more intimidating with a sword in hand.

“What are you wearing?” Aleron asked, looking over the exposed limbs of his son with disgust.

“Do you like it?” Laurent repeated his little twirl to show off the garment.

“This is not a game, Laurent,” Aleron said. “You have deliberately disobeyed me.”

“You have implemented nonsensical rules for only me,” Laurent stated.

“They’re to protect you,” Auguste stated.

“Protect me from what?” Laurent asked, turning his icy gaze towards his older brother.

Auguste glanced uncertainly at Damen where he stood off to the side. “Protect your innocence,” he said.

“No,” Laurent said, “The only thing you’ve been protecting is your idea of me. For years I’ve endured visiting dignitaries whisper in my ear of what they would like to do to me. The insipid and specific gossip of pets is impossible to ignore. Especially those that have involved my own brother who has taken numerous candidates to bed or an empty hallway, whichever is closer.”

“Laurent, stop talking.” Aleron’s face was red.

“There are also scrolls and illustrated manuscripts of any erotic position you might wish to master available in certain temples.”

“Laurent.” A vein bulged on Aleron’s forehead. “Escort the prince back to his chambers.” The red faced guards stepped forward to take Laurent by the arm.

“Auguste was hardly chaste even before being engaged and yet you impose these rules on me for what reason?” Laurent asked, still talking as he was led from the room.

“Damianos, I must request that you pack your belongings and be prepared to leave by morning,” Aleron said. “I will have a ship ready to depart for Ios at dawn.”

“Father, we should talk about this before acting, we don’t want to risk offending Theomedes.”

“You are not the king yet, Auguste. My orders are still to be obeyed. Perhaps you should go talk some sense into your brother.”

Auguste’s face had hardened and the resemblance between brothers was clear. “Yes, my king.” He said turning on his heel.

Aleron and Damen were alone. The king cleared his throat before speaking, “I recognize how Laurent can be a— temptation. So I’m not going to place the blame entirely on either of you. But I don’t like the brazen and reckless way my son behaves when you’re around.”

“If that’s the case, I’m proud my presence gives him the courage to speak his mind. I’ve enjoyed watching him grow into a confident young man,” Damen stated.

“I see,” Aleron said, his eyes traveled over Damen in consideration. “There will be a guard escort waiting to take you to your ship in the morning. The details of the engagement will be discussed when everything has settled down.” This final blow statement Damen and he failed to notice when Aleron left. The oblique political speak could be interpreted in a myriad of ways, but it made Damen worry. The night went by without sleep and the restless anxiety that his fear would come to fruition. A blue flower that had come free of the crown now rested on the couch where they had been. Damen tucked it into a fold of his robes.

The knock came before the sun was up. Damen did a head count of his guard escort and knew there weren’t enough, and that if he really wanted to, he could fight them off.

“I want to say goodbye to Laurent,” Damen said.

“Our orders are to take you directly to the docks.”

Damen could have taken them, fought his way to a goodbye but couldn’t further jeopardize the engagement and went peacefully. In the stables he searched for a blond head and any chance that Laurent would make it in time. On horseback with the little entourage surrounding him, Damen continued to look over his shoulder. Even on the ship while sailors continued last minute preparations Damen clung to the railing, staring over the sandy hill hoping for even just a messenger with a letter. Ropes were cast off and Damen’s heart sank as the anchor was raised.

He half turned to retire to his cabin when a horse crested the rise. Laurent rode onto the docks without slowing, the horse pushed into a merciless sprint. The coarse wood rattled beneath the hooves. Sailors shouted at him and the guards from Damen’s escort chased him down or attempted to startle the horse into stopping. The ship had pulled away from the dock. Damen didn’t know what Laurent intended to do as he charged towards the end.

His heart was in his throat when Laurent leapt from the back of the horse into empty air. Damen reached for him, catching him with an arm around his waist, and pulled him over the rail into the solid safety of the deck.

Laurent was laughing while Damen worried his heart had stopped.

“You’re insane,” Damen said breathing a relieved laugh. His brain becoming preoccupied with the realization Laurent was beneath him.

“You tried to leave without saying goodbye,” Laurent breathed.

“Sorry,” Damen said and unable to resist, kissed him, deep and heartfelt. Around them the ship had broken into chaos. The anchor dropped and the sailors tried to go backwards to the dock despite the tide ready to take them out to sea. Damen sat up pulling Laurent along with him. He knelt on the rough hardwood deck, still wearing the ridiculous chiton that caught in the salt breeze taking it, and his golden hair, in every direction. Damen pulled Laurent up off the rough deck, and arms circled his waist.

Laurent pressed a cold hand against Damen’s face. “This isn’t really goodbye. We’ll fix this.” He leaned in folding his arms around Damen’s neck in a loose embrace. With hands holding the slender waist, Damen pulled him back into a kiss, desperate to keep him close for a little longer. The blond hair blew into his face.

Laurent pulled back, “Quit distracting me, I can’t think and we have to plan.”

Damen had to tell him now. It wouldn’t feel right to do it in a letter. “I wanted to tell you in a better way, but now with everything happening I need you to know that my father has been looking for other candidates. Specifically, ones capable of producing an heir.”

“Is that what you want?” Laurent asked calmly.

“No,” Damen said, and took the cold hand from his face to hold between both of his, “It will only ever be you.”

Laurent’s expression was still carefully neutral, looking down at their clasped hands.

Damen took the flower from his pocket, “Since neither of us was given a choice. I’ll ask now.” Damen went to a knee and tied the flower around Laurent’s slim finger. “Will you marry me?”

Laurent nodded, expression solemn. “Yes,” he said, then made a small sound of surprise when Damen pulled him down for a desperate kiss holding the slender body as close as he could.

Laurent pulled away to breathe, petting Damen’s hair. “You’re behaving like we’ll never see each other again,” he said.

“I’m not sure we will.”

“We will,” Laurent said. “I spoke with Auguste through the night. We were able to reconcile. The current rulers can choose to keep us apart but their time is almost over and you will be better.”

Damen captured the wayward blond strands of hair and smoothed them out of Laurent’s face to see the bright eyes. “We will be better,” Damen told him. “But no matter what happens I will keep my promise.”

“Good.” Laurent smiled before Damen pulled him in for a final kiss.

#captive prince #captive prince fic #laurent #damen of akielos #am i capable of writing a simple prompt without some bitter sweet ending and hints to a larger undeveloped plot?#it doesnt seem like it #always make things more complicated than they need to be #anyway i dont think ive ever written anything with so much kissing #i hope its satisfactory and im sorry it took so long work has been a nightmare this month #writing prompt #captive prince writing prompt #thank you for the prompt tho i was excited to write it and hope its worth the wait #mywritingprompts

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somegirlsnerdywords2 · 4 years ago

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Anime i’ve Watched

That begin with a A!

Yep this is how i’m going to bring over all the anime and manga i’ve watched and posted about on the old blog. It’s not so detailed but it will have to do. Anything new I watch or read from this point on will have their own posts.

Acchi Kocchi (TV) (Place to Place):

Genres: slice of life, comedy, romance, school

Synopsis: Feelings may come and go, but true love always remains in the heart. Tsumiki Miniwa is in love with her best friend, Io Otonashi. For her, confessing is nearly impossible; but to her friends, they seem to be the perfect match. Cute and petite, Tsumiki comes off more as a friend, and Io's attitude toward her is friendlier than toward others. Despite the constant teasing and obvious hints that his friends have been dropping, Io always seems to miss the signs. Throughout her everyday school life, Tsumiki spends time with her friends and Io. Will she finally muster enough courage to confess her true feelings? [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 8/10

Finished airing in 2012 with a total of 12 Episodes.

My Thoughts: It’s been ages since watching this one so I can’t say I remember it well but the rating tells me it was at least partway decent and I imagine I thought the animation/ character design was rather cute (though not to my usual tastes). A feel good sort of anime with cutesy romance? If any of you guys have watched this anime and have anything to share feel free to send it my way so people can make an informed decision before viewing if they so wish!

Akatsuki no Yona (Yona of the Dawn):

Genres: action, adventure, comedy, fantasy, romance, shoujo

Synopsis: Princess Yona lives a life of luxury and ease, completely sheltered from the problems of the seemingly peaceful Kingdom of Kouka; however, the sudden murder of the king and betrayal of her beloved cousin Su-won places Yona's life in mortal peril. Forced to escape only with Son Hak, who is both her childhood friend and bodyguard, the naïve princess soon discovers that Kouka is not the idyllic place she envisioned it to be. Poverty, strife, and corruption run rampant, making reclaiming the throne nothing more than a wishful fantasy given the kingdom's current state. Based on the popular manga of the same name by Mizuho Kusanagi, Akatsuki no Yona follows Princess Yona on a coming-of-age adventure as she faces the harsh realities of her kingdom. With only a mysterious legend to guide her, Yona must discover a way to restore Kouka to its former glory while being pursued relentlessly by the forces of the new King of Kouka. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 7.5/10

Finished airing in 2015 with a total of 24 episodes.

My Thoughts: I recall having an issue with the pacing in the beginning but an overwhelming love for the sheltered to fierce main character and reverse harem vibes with all those pretty men. The artwork was nothing special most of the time, being rather muted and the themes were hit and miss but overall I recall this being a rather decent series. That being said, I was far more generous with my rating of the manga, which is still ongoing and a great series to read!

Akiba's Trip The Animation

Genres: action, comedy, supernatural, ecchi

Synopsis: Otaku siblings Tamotsu and Niwaka Denkigai are shopping in Akihabara when it is overrun by vampiric cosplaying monsters! These creatures, known as "Bugged Ones," can possess anyone they bite and soon they begin causing mayhem across the city. As Tamotsu finds himself at the mercy of one of these creatures, he is rescued by the mysterious baseball bat-wielding Matome Mayonaka. Together, they fight through several more encounters with the Bugged Ones, but before long, Tamotsu is fatally wounded protecting Matome. With no other choice, she revives him as a high level Bugged One—just like her! Tamotsu and Matome, along with excitable otaku cosplayer Arisa Ahokainen, make up the group "The Electric Mayonnaise" and they begin dispatching the Bugged Ones in the only way they know how: by ripping off their clothes and exposing them to sunlight! [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 4/10

Finished airing in 2017 with a total of 13 episodes.

My Thoughts: That’s a hard no from me. Would not suggest this one. I was drawn in by the art/ animation/ character design and just didn’t know when to quit. Not worth the time it takes to finish the 13 episodes in my personal opinion.

Amaama to Inazuma (Sweetness & Lightning):

Genres: comedy, slice of life, seinen

Synopsis: Since the death of his wife, Kouhei Inuzuka has been caring for his young daughter Tsumugi to the best of his abilities. However, with his lack of culinary knowledge and his busy job as a teacher, he is left relying on ready-made meals from convenience stores to feed the little girl. Frustrated at his own incapability to provide a fresh, nutritious meal for his daughter, Kouhei takes up an offer from his student, Kotori Iida, to come have dinner at her family's restaurant. But on their very first visit, the father and daughter discover that the restaurant is often closed due to Kotori's mother being away for work and that Kotori often eats alone. After much pleading from his pupil, Kouhei decides to continue to go to the restaurant with Tsumugi to cook and share delicious homemade food with Kotori. Amaama to Inazuma follows the heartwarming story of a caring father trying his hardest to make his adorable little daughter happy, while exploring the meanings and values behind cooking, family, and the warm meals at home that are often taken for granted. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 9/10

Finished airing in 2016 with a total of 12 episodes.

My Thoughts: Heartwarming and painfully sweet. A story about family with a culinary twist. Lovely artwork/ animation/ character design which perfectly compliments the characters and story. A great one to watch if you’re looking for something light but capable of tugging at your heartstrings a bit.

Amagi Brilliant Park:

Genres: comedy, drama, fantasy, magic

Synopsis: Seiya Kanie, a smart and extremely narcissistic high school student, believes that the beautiful but reserved Isuzu Sento has invited him on a date at an amusement park called Amagi Brilliant Park. Much to his chagrin, not only is the location a run-down facility, the supposed date is merely a recruitment tour where Sento and Princess Latifa Fleuranza, the owner of the theme park, ask him to become the park's new manager. Their cause for desperation? As stipulated in a land-use contract, Amagi has less than three months to meet a quota of 500,000 guests, or the park will be closed for good and the land redeveloped by a greedy real-estate company. Seiya is won over by the revelation that Amagi is no ordinary amusement park; many of its employees are Maple Landers—mysterious magical beings who live in the human world and are nourished by the energy created by people having fun. Entrusted with the hopes and dreams of this far-off enchanted land, Seiya must now use his many skills to bring Amagi back on its feet, or watch it crumble before his eyes. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 7.5/10

Finished airing in 2014 with a total of 13 episodes. (Also has two OVA’s/specials)

My Thoughts: An interesting setting and a cute male lead made even better thanks to the excellent art and character design. A decent comedy with art/ animation/ character design that was right up my alley.

Amnesia:

Genres: reverse harem, mystery, romance, fantasy, josei

Synopsis: After fainting at work, a young lady awakens in the back room of the café she works at with no memory of her life or those around her. Two of her friends, whom she soon learns are named Shin and Toma, are called to help her get home safely. Once she is alone, she meets a spectral boy named Orion that only she can see and hear. He explains that she lost her memories because of his chance visit to her world, so he vows to help her remember who she is.

However, regaining her departed memories without worrying those around her may be more difficult than she realizes. In addition to the gloomy Shin and the protective Toma, she must be wary of arousing the suspicions of the captivating Ikki, the quick-witted Kent, and a mysterious man who lurks in the distance. As her amnesia entangles her in the lives of each of these men, her fragmented memories return piece by piece, and the mysteries of her circumstances slowly come to light.

[Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 3/10

Finished airing in 2013 with a total of 12 episodes.

My Thoughts: A blank piece of paper for a female lead and cast of potential suitors that range from kind of crappy to the creepiest of creeps. What isn’t there to love? I vaguely recall my reverse harem kick where I consumed each and every reverse Harem I could get my hands on, hoping that at least one of them would be properly satisfying... They never were. Don’t even bother watching this one. You know unless what I described above is your sort of thing.

#acchi kocchi #akatsuki no yona #anime ive watched #akiba's trip the animation #amaama to inazuma #amnesia

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thealogie · 5 years ago

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thanks to the overwhelming silence and the fact that i can’t remember my old ao3 password and want to preserve my new ao3 for bookmarking rather than publishing anything I’m putting under the cut here some of the tentatively titled and probably-never-to-be-finished “Jeeves and the Unemployment Rate” which I wrote on the ios scrivener app a while ago (highly recommend if you want to write yourself fanfic on your commute and read it later) and then forgot.

It all started on a crisp sort of autumn morning when I returned to 3A Berkeley Mansions from a spot of lunch at my Aunt Dahlia’s with a bit of good news, a spring in my step, and sunshine on the old bean. It was the brightish sort of day, made all the brighter by the visit to a most Beloved Relation, who is the kind-hearted fly in the ointment of my theory that aunts are put on this earth for the sole purpose of crushing young nephews into submission, depression, and oppression under heels of steel. On this particular day, the old girl—in addition to being a generally good sort as usual— had also helped me solve a problem that had been vexing me for nearly a month.

I burst through the door with good cheer and a hankering for a whiskey fizz.

“Jeeves,” I bleeted. “Rally round.”

And rally around he did. Not that Jeeves does anything the seeing man would describe as “rallying.” But he floated gracefully out of the kitchen a moment before I called out for him, a whiskey fizz in hand.

“Ah, you are a marvel, as always, Jeeves. You’re sure you’re not a telepath? Positive of it, I mean? Very well, very well, I believe you,” I said, pouring the w. f. down the throat. “Right-o, now let us rally as men do. I bring splendid news from ol’ Dahlia.”

“Indeed, sir?”

“Dashed splendid, I mean. The sort to grip you somewhere in the middle and lift you just a footish above the troubles of life so that you glide above them in the air without once dipping your toes into their murky depths—the troubles, I mean. Of life, that is,” I explained.

“Indeed, sir?”

I narrowed my eyes a bit. There was something a bit soupy about his tone that told me he lacked the enthusiasm Betram Wilberforce was striving for in this situation. Like I said, rallying of any sort is out of the question when it comes to Jeeves, but a chap hopes that when he stirs up the pot with so much vim, he might be rewarded with a sincerely uttered “Very good, sir,” or, perhaps more ambitiously, “Most pleasing to hear it, sir. Perhaps you could recount the tale after I pour you another w. f.?”

I forged on bravely.

“Oh rather. I mean to say, you’re going to be biffed as well, old thing. Oh yes. The news touches you, is the thing. And I dare say it’s pleasant news of the sort that will have even demi-gods like yourself prancing about the place with a hop and a whistle.”

“Indeed, sir?”

Many times have I spoken to my man about his little habit of wielding “indeeds” against me in such sharpish tones.

“What do you...I mean. Yes, dashed ‘indeed,’ Jeeves,” I replied with some steel in my voice, “blasted, indeed! You know what, Jeeves, I’m surprised at you. You might show a bit more sympathy for the y.m. It’s not a happy household when a man comes through the door all hot and is immediately handed the ice.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“Jeeves!”

“My apologies, sir. I only meant to convey that it is just as you say. I should be glad to hear what Mrs. Travers relayed to you over luncheon.”

I crossed my arms and narrowed the Wooster baby blues even further until it was difficult to see a dashed thing.

“Alright Jeeves. Let’s have it.”

“Sir?”

“Out with it.”

“Sir?”

“Sir! I mean...to chopped liver with ‘sir,’ Jeeves. Something is rotten in the chez of Wooster. I see the displeased glint in your eyes. I should like to hear what’s hardened your heart against the young master’s general joie at the current state of vivre.”

“Well, sir. Is the pleasant information you wish to convey in any way related to the retirement Mrs. Travers’s head butler and her selection of a replacement?”

“By Jove,” I cried. “You do know all, what?! Jeeves, I know you don’t like this theory of mine, but it’s time we started to take the telepathy thingamummy seriously. Is it your deductive reasoning again? I mean, it’s too uncanny. Give me your Holmesian monologue on how you came to this one.”

“No deductions on this occasion, sir. Although I do not wish to jeopardize a friend, I must admit Seppings himself paid me a visit not an hour ago and divulged the news,” Jeeves said.

“Jeeves! Don’t tell me Seppings let the proverbial cat out of the proverbial bag?!”

“I’m afraid so, sir.”

“Oh rotten luck that!” I sighed, a bit put out that Seppings—the very retiring butler who had minutes ago been the source of my great gratitude—had ruined my surprise.

“As you say, sir.”

“And I suppose you know the person she intends to name as his replacement is, in fact, you?”

“I do, sir,” he said coldly.

“Er,” I replied.

“Will that be all, sir?”

“I can see you’re not too pleased with the young master, Jeeves, but I only thought—dash it, I mean, I thought it would please you. The superior title, an entire staff at your command, a house with guests of the more refined sort.”

Jeeves was unmoved by this. I forged on, feeling a bit like that Napoleon chappie must have felt trying to make good speed when it got nippy in Russia.

“Oh, think, you’d never cook again Jeeves! Every menu will be orchestrated by you and prepared by Anatole. Oh, and you don’t need to valet at all, Aunt Dahlia says. I mean, Uncle Tom would be glad to have you valet for him if you don’t trust anyone else with his clothes but they have a large-ish staff. If you’d like, you’d just be doing books and ordering people about all day and generally mastering the household.”

I had wilted a bit at his initial cold reception but I was at full speed again with my ramble, imagining Jeeves sitting behind his own desk, so many people for him to guide and mold.

“It is an incredibly generous offer, sir,” Jeeves said. “Will that be all?”

I wilted again.

“It’s only an offer, Jeeves. You can toss it out to the cold night air if it displeases you. I mean to say, what?! No one is making you take it—not that there are good odds against any mortal setting about making you do anything you don’t want to do and coming out on top,” I tried to mollify him.

“Very kind, sir,” Jeeves said stiffly. “Will that be all?”

I saw that Jeeves was not in a good way. And suddenly my own disappointment was the furthest thing from my mind. I softened immediately.

“Old thing, I wish you would tell me what’s bothering you,” I said ever so gently, or so I hoped.

“While it is commendable, Mr. Wooster, that you would secure another position for me rather than dismissing me, I am sorry to learn I have overstayed my welcome,” he explained, looking above the Wooster onion and straight at the wall opposite.

I scratched the Wooster temple, feeling flummoxed and flat out on my rear.

“Jeeves, old fruit, I’m feeling a bit flummoxed and flat out,” I confessed, leaving off the bit about my rear to preserve some dignity.

“Mr. Seppings came to congratulate me on the happy news, which he thought I was already privy to. After seeing that the news surprised and confused me, he confessed that he inadvertently overheard pieces of your discussions with Mrs. Travers,” Jeeves explained.

Oh. Oh, dear. That’s something to get hot under the collar about. If Seppings had indeed heard my conversation with Dahlia...

“Oh bugger all,” I groaned.

“He had not meant to eavesdrop, sir, but came to understand that you were asking Mrs. Travers’ advice on how to end my employment while avoiding the unpleasantness that generally accompanies an outright dismissal. If I may say, sir, the elected course is prudent. The offer of employment from Mrs. Travers at increased salary and title would have spared embarrassment on all sides,” Jeeves said. Except it wasn’t Jeeves at all, dash it. He had the faraway look of an automaton who has no thoughts at all, nevertheless the dozen or so ripe ones that seem always to be floating around in Jeeves’s head. “Sir, will that be all?”

Oh, dash it. Let me stop there for a mo’.

At this point, you must be feeling as betrayed as Jeeves. “Wooster, you useless goose!” you’re undoubtedly crying. “You’ve somehow managed to ensnare a divine nymph to crease your trousers and mix your cocktails? You have in your household a first-rate mind who should be writing treatises on literature and holding saloons in Paris, yet you dare to hand him the mitten? Refund me the price of the rag I’ve purchased or prepare to duel.”

I beg you gentle reader, give this Wooster a chance to redeem himself. An oaf I am, but an oaf pure of heart. My sin, you see, is not being up to this literary wheeze, not caprice.

In the normal course of events, you know, stories begin when matters are about to get wheeling on, then they trot on until everybody’s generally got their ankles up in the air and such, and then they end when everything’s been tidied up and all persons’ ankles are firmly back on the ground. You’re familiar with said basic structure, no doubt? Well, I’m no good at it. This Wooster frequently starts his wheezes when things have already gone ankles up. Jeeves tells me the more scholarly writer sorts try to hide this flaw by pretending to do this same thing deliberately and calling it “starting in medias res.”

Allow me to fill you in on three basic facts that might persuade you to regard Bertram Wilberforce as the well-intentioned buffoon he is rather than the malicious villain he is painted out to be in the above passage:

A. I’m in love with Jeeves. I mean properly daffy him and all that. I mean to say, I hear music when he walks into the room. When he leaves, clouds of doom descend upon me. His every touch however brief and accidental is etched indelibly in my memory. It’s properly scorching stuff, you see. But he hasn’t a clue.

B. I can’t tell a fellow I’m daffy for him so long as I’m his employer. I mean, he takes his wages fishing me out of the soup, drying me off, and setting me on my way again. I mean, you don’t need me to spell out the how and why. It’s simply not preux at all.

C. Premise A and premise B, when combined, put me in quite a bind. I shared said bind with an old chum of mine just a few weeks prior to the cheery-cum-calamitous afternoon I’ve recounted to you above.

“So, you’d like to get a leg over Jeeves, eh?” Ginger said crassly after I’d unburdened my very soul to him.

I’ve known Ginger for ages. I mean, I used to know Ginger rather biblically. Now we’re just chums. And unlike some chaps who used to know each other, we’re rather un-jealous and supportive chums. Though, Ginger’s support was a bit more vulgar than a laddie hopes for when said laddie is in the throws of a love that is all divinity and light.

“Ginger! You crude fishmonger,” I cried, scandalized. “This is serious, for once. What am I to do? Am I to take this to my grave? Saddens a chap to think of going on like this forever.”

“Want to roger him good, eh ol’ boy?” Ginger continued, without hearing me at all.

“No, Ginger. It’s not like that. I mean it is. But it’s more. I also want us to sit by the fire, reading poetry. I want to make him smile every day I am alive. I want his hands enveloped in mine,” I declared. “Were I a glove, and all that!”

“I think the Romeo chappie wanted to be a glove to touch that bird’s cheek, Bertie.”

“Well, Jeeves is too sensible to sit around resting his cheek in his hands when he’s wearing work gloves. But I mean it! I would shape shift into one of his imminently reasonable and dull gloves if I could, so I could be wrapped all around his elegant hands,” I sighed dreamily, giving Madeleine Bassett a run for her money.

“Looks like he’s got you wrapped around his fingers, all right,” Ginger laughed, clapping me on the back in a chummy sort of fashion.

“Oh but Ginger, don’t tease. Not today. If you had the smartest and handsomest man in England residing in your home, you too would find him a worthy general and think twice before acting without orders,” I sighed, chin in hand.

“Please Bertie,” Ginger said, rolling his eyes. “I hope you aren’t about to start again with your campaign to make Jeeves Prime Minister, Bertie.”

At this comment, the Wooster corpus, previously slumped over the table, sat at attention with a bolt of inspiration. “Euree—something. Jeeves would know. Something a Greek chappie once said when his grey matter finally got going. I mean to say, that’s it, Ginger! Oh, you’ve got it.”

Ginger blinked at me in confusion. “You’re going to make Jeeves the Prime Minister? I suppose, that would do the country a bit of good. And, you have a point. If you tell the Prime Minister you want to bugger him, there’s no danger of him going along with it because he feels obliged.”

“Not quite, laddie. If Jeeves had another job, a better job, then I would be just another man, not his employer,” I said.

“With you so far,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

“Well, young masters who wish to stay a step above the devil don’t go foisting declarations on unsuspecting valets and then expect them to go on dressing and feeding and living with said y.m. as though nothing is amiss,” I explained patiently. “But if he doesn’t work for me, I could tell him I love him. We’d just be two men, standing before each other. And if he doesn’t feel the same, he’d just biff off to his new household, that’s that.”

“I get all that. Bertie, you really are a Christmas pudding of a man,” Ginger said. “What I’m saying is...Well, that’s no solution at all. I mean. Right now, at least you get to be close to him day in and out, don’t you? If you send him away…you do realize he’ll be, in fact, away, don’t you?” he said sagely, buttering a scone with a great air dignity. “Or maybe you don’t. There’s no end to things you don’t realize, darling.”

I puffed up the chest. My love had made me feel a touch noble, like those self-sacrificing beazels in the old Greek plays. “I’d rather watch him walk out the door after I’ve said my piece than have him say ‘Very good, sir’ and shimmer into the kitchen to put dinner together because it’s what’s expected of him,” I said with a touch haught. “Now Ginger, if you’re a friend, you’ll help me draw up a list of suitable households where Jeeves will be happy and well-paid. You know he’s not exactly the ‘happy to put down anchor anywhere’ sort of fellow.’”

“That’s mild, Bertie. The man’s as particular as all hell,” Ginger exclaimed.

I sighed dreamily, planting the Wooster chin atop the Wooster palm. “Isn’t he just? It’s an infuriating quality of his.

“Oh dear lord, you’re done for.”

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acequeenking · 5 years ago

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“The Dog Days of Summer” (G)

Summary: After Hades lets her go, Persephone decides to get her husband a little gift to show that she is serious, too: someone to help accompany him, when she can’t be there.

Happy holidays/Io Saturnalia to @persephonegray, who has a very choice username and, from their blog, excellent tastes. I hope you enjoy your Secret Songbird present!

When her husband lets her go up early, clutching his love in his hand, Persephone knows: there’s an attempt on her part that needs to be paid. Hades might have done more wrong, but she’s done wrong too in her time, and Persephone knows, knows, that she needs to make it right, much as she can.

Knows how to do it, too. People don’t think it of her much, but deep down, Persephone and her husband aren’t un-alike. She’s just as much a schemer as he does, and there is no one on this earth, above it, or below it who knows him so well as her, his needs.

Which is why she’s going where she is. To settle a score, so to speak, to heal scars too long ago undone. It won’t fix everything about them – frankly, ain’t nothing can do that but time, she thinks, and effort from them both – but it’ll be a sign that she is, to the core of her, quite serious about her man.

Persephone wanders up Etna alone, the heat blasting out of the volcano nothing compared to the winter spent underground. She doesn’t pause to take in the desolate habitat; it was chosen for a reason. Humans don’t tend to react well to semi-active volcanoes or dogs with three heads, and, fortuitously, Etna is smoking, and no one but her could even try to scale the height of it.

She gets to the top in the tip of the mountain and leans inwards, stares down. Tries to come up with a good greeting, but gets robbed of the opportunity when the big dog stares up at her, his tail twitching.

Well, a deep and inhuman voice howls. Look who is back.

“Hello, Cerberus,” she murmurs; the dog rises from the volcanic depths to the tip-top; they’re alone, and he looks sleek in the sunlight. “Been a long time.”

He makes a horrible sort of deep noise; it sounds closer to a growl than what it is, a deep purr. She holds out her hand and the dog leans into the scritches. Ah. I have missed this. She gives him a good bit of attention, enjoys petting him from tip to tail, gives all three heads an appropriate scratch.

Am I to take it he has put away his pride? Destroyed that loathsome smokestack? The dog says in words that are not quite words, syllables unknowable to all but the gods.

“No,” she says, soft. “I wish. Workin’ on it.”

He huffs, unamused. I am saddened. I miss home. Etna is nice, but…She understands. His home, like hers, might be a hellhole, but it is home. “He’s trying. For the first time in a while.” That takes her to why she’s here, and she smiles, gives her beloved old friend a little smile. She has to trust in that he is making a change, that with his love for regained he might walk back the old hellhole a bit. “Was wondering if maybe you’d—“

He cuts her off with the monstrous equivalent of a scoff. Absolutely not. I told him I would consider returning when the air was not so foul; I will not compromise that vow.

“You know, he’s awful lonely with us both gone so long,” she says with a frown. Her half a year; him, several decades gone. “Think it would be better for him if one of us—“

He has been keeping you longer. He does not need me. The dog chuffs; it moves away, back toward the volcano.

“You used to care about him,” she says, furious. “Ain’t that what they call your kind? Man’s best friend?”

I’m not just a dog and he is not just a man, he growls. Any more than you are just a woman. The dog howls, a deep noise that sets every bone in her body – even in her body – vibrating. But I will not leave you in a lurch. Come.

He howls again, and she winces, wanting to cover her ears but not doing it, for she knows the grumpy old dog will take offense. An unfamiliar yapping follows, and she raises her eyebrows as Cerberus dips down, gently picks up a very small little puppy between his jaws.

“You’ve had a puppy!” She says, eyes wide; she does not ask who the mother may be.

This one is a foolish pup, the dog says, nudging the puppy towards her. It is as white as Cerberus is black, small as he is large. This one longs for cities, adventures. He cannot yet speak in this tongue, and he lacks the eyes required of a guard, Cerberus scorns; the little one does not seem to take much offense. It is not, after all, his fault he was born with one head, not three. But he is patient, and kind, and for your husband, perhaps… that will be enough. He nudges the little immortal one toward her, and Persephone takes the squirming little bundle into her arms. He is just a child. But he will grow. And I will tender him to your care.

The dog is certainly different from Cerberus; white and one-headed, with big happy brown eyes and a nose already sniffing every inch of her in delight. “He’s an active one,” she says; Cerberus nods.

Exhaustively, he says, sounding as tired as she feels every time she boards that damn train.

“We’ll take good care of your pup,” she promises. “Won’t we – ah, what is your name?”

The young one has no name pronounceable in the old tongue, Cerberus answers, a flick of his tail. You will need to come up with your own. The dog yaps happily, and she supposes that is proof enough that he’s happy to go along with her, maybe even go way down under the ground with her.

“I’ll let you know if—no, when—things change down there.” She promises it to herself.

I will return when I desire, regardless of when the change is made. It is always home. But I will hope your husband comes to his senses soon. Take care of yourself, and of him. Visit, if you wish. He starts his long crawl back to his caverns; not quite home, but home enough for now. I could use your thumbs for scratching.

“I will,” she promises, then stops. “We will.”

Now the hard part: she cradles the little dog down the mountain, wishing she’d brought something to carry him in. Persephone isn’t used to being the caretaker, so much; she could let the little thing run free – a little volcanic ash ain’t gonna hurt these paws, but she doesn’t want to put him down. A new little part of their family needs to be loved, and given that he’s the stoic type, well, that falls to her.

The little one licks her cheek, sliding off half a cheek of perfectly nice make-up. “Whoof,” she says, soft, as it tries to get as much Persephone time as it can. “Ain’t he just gonna love you.”

------

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Hermes drawls; staring down at her little wicker basket, waiting for the train. Been six months, six long months, and both mama and Hermes and even, bless his soul, Orpheus, have tried to convince her mean old Mr. Hades wouldn’t like a cute and cuddly pet. They’re all wrong, and she isn’t afraid of telling them all so.

“He doesn’t seem like the most…” Orpheus says, looking at her squeamish, afraid to offend when his only chance of seeing his love is through her. “Well, affectionate sort of…” She raises a hand, his objects die down.

“I know my husband,” she sniffs. “He’ll love it.” The train screams in the distance, as if he is echoing her point. Usually of a mind, her and him; she’ll hope it’s a good track.

Orpheus just stares at the track uneasy; Hermes raises an eyebrow that simultaneously says I don’t believe you, and, also, I ain’t gonna quibble the point. Both of them’s nervous; the boy for a glimpse of a girl that she suspects her husband will let ride, for her is not, despite his reputation, without mercy. Hermes, she thinks, just wants to be done with all this, and she well – she’s ready to start again. Isn’t even nervous about it, because he’s waited the full term, and for the first time in a long time, she’s ready to go, and ready to see him, and ready to start again, and she’s brought proof of that.

The train whistles to a stop; she sees movement at one of the windows, smaller than himself’s profile, and isn’t surprised when Eurydice leans her face against the window.

“Eurydice!” He shouts; he looks back at her, eyes not unlike a puppy dog’s himself.

“Go on,” Persephone says; “go spend some time with her. I can delay him at least half an hour.” Maybe more, if he himself likes this as much as she thinks he will, but Orpheus doesn’t wait for any further reassurances, just storms up the open door and nearly bowls over the man himself.

He gives Orpheus a cool – and pitiful – look, but she knows he doesn’t have it in mind to yell much at the kid, not when she’s waiting, looking very nice, and therefore very distracting to all his best attempts at grumping about.

“Persephone,” he rumbles; he all but jumps off his train’s steps and nods at her; wants more than a nod, but she isn’t going to get it while Hermes is sticking around. They both look at him, both eye-brows just in sync.

“Suppose I’ll go – check out the train.” Hermes coughs into his palm to hide a laugh, and she just shakes her head. He’d stick around for the drama, but some things are meant for them and them alone.

Once Hermes is out of eye, he bends down, presses his forehead to hers. She pushes up, gives him a little kiss that’s for him and only him. It’s a nice moment. “You’re right on time,” she murmurs.

“Still missed you,” he says; it’s not quite a joke, not yet, but they both smile. She grabs his hand and gently pushes him toward the bench, toward the little wicker basket.

“I’m with you now. And I might have gotten you a little surprise,” she says, suddenly a little self-conscious despite all her faith that he’ll love the gift. “Might not be going down alone?”

“Oh?” His curiosity is peaked. The basket barks, quite ruining the surprise; he looks down at it, then at her. “You didn’t—“

She smiles. “Open it.”

He does.

She watches his face as he pulls off the top of the basket, the raised brows, the gentle but deadly oh he mutters as he slowly looks up at her. “Who is—?”

“Cerberus’ pup.” She slowly lifts the wriggling little feather-light dog into her arms. “Doesn’t look much like daddy, I don’t think, but he’s ours now. Yours now.”

“Oh,” he says. He does the awkward thing he always does when he wants to hold something but is, somehow, too stoic to ask – his hands awkwardly balled up – and she raises an eyebrow, holds out the dog. She reads him like a damn book and ain’t nobody knows it better than him himself.

“Hold him,” she murmurs, and doesn’t need to say it again as his arms circle the little yappy dog and gently holding it like his own tiny little baby. Pretty sure this dog ain’t never hitting the floor in their house.

“Hi,” he murmurs; the dog, as is its wont, licks half the coal-dust off his old face, and he doesn’t seem to mind.

“You like?”

“I love.” His hand winds around her shoulder. “And you, I…” She presses her head against his forehead, draws him into a kiss that’s not exactly sweet or subtle.

“Love you too.” She ruffles their little dog’s energetic mane; needs a name, this little one.

“Think we oughtta give those kids some time, hmm?” She says; she slides her hand around his back. “Maybe take this little one on his first walk?”

“Alright.” He gently lowers the dog to the ground, and looks at his plain little collar that Persephone’s stitched up – pretty sure it’s getting a new diamond-studded one mighty fast, and she’ll just look the other way at that. “This one got a name?”

“No.” She slides her hand in his as the dog takes off running energetically, as a puppy is wont to do. “Figured I’d wait for daddy to give him a name.”

“Hm.” He smiles at her, his hand sliding over her shoulders. “We oughtta come up with one together, then. You gonna scheme up one with me, outdoor girl?”

She rests her head on his shoulders. “Wouldn’t miss it,” she says, as they walk by the tracks together, the newest member of their household yapping at their heels.

#secret songbird gift exchange 2019 #hadestown #Hades #Persephone #Hermes #Cerberus #Orpheus #Eurydice #ace writes fanfiction #sometimes she even remembers to post it on Tumblr

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foolproofidea · 5 years ago

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The Best Gadgets for 2020

Pelican Go G40 Charge Case

Pelican has consolidated its rough waterproof Go case with a 10,000mAh rechargeable battery. The brand structured the arrangement for simple remote charging of your cellphone. You can likewise go through it to charge different gadgets through a USB charge port while in a hurry.

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NAD M10 BluOS Streaming Amplifier

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A 20-PIN USB-C MAGNETIC BREAKAWAY CONNECTOR

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Samsung Sero TV

CES is always big on TV announcements, and especially worth noting is Samsung's new Sero TV, because its defining feature goes beyond LED and 4K and what have you. It seems so obvious: a TV that transitions from the horizontal plane to the, gasp, vertical plane. That's what Samsung is doing with The Sero, which means "vertical" in Korean. This QLED TV, already available in South Korea and going global this year, flips so that longways it resembles a 43-inch phone screen. That means it's ideal for mirroring an Instagram or TikTok feed from your Galaxy phone, should you have one. What a trick. And here you hoped you’d be looking at your phone screen less in 2020.

Cleer Flow II Headphones

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Dell XPS 13

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Focused webcamBattery life superior to ever2019 update isn't hugeExpensive

The Dell XPS 13 has been a customary of our best laptops list for a considerable length of time, and – despite the fact that the Huawei Notebook X Pro knocked it off this rundown for a brief timeframe – the 2019 model is a genuine come back to frame. It holds all that we've come to cherish from Dell's lead 13-incher, from the perfect and light plan, to the incredible present day segments that force it.

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Mophie Powerstation GO Phone Charger and Car Jump Starter

You know Mophie for its phone chargers and force banks, yet the brand's most recent item makes it a stride further: It can jump start your car and charge your workstation, as well. Keep the lightweight Powerstation in your car if there should be an occurrence of crises, such as awakening on a virus winter morning to a car with a dead battery.

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Canon EOS-1D X Mark III

Rumors of the DSLR’s demise have been greatly exaggerated based on Canon’s update to its beloved — and expensive — EOS-1D X lineup. The Canon EOS-1D X Mark III boasts improvements like the faster Digic X processor, burst shooting at 16 frames per second, and face and head-tracking thanks to improved computer vision tech. It also shoots 5.5K RAW video and 4K video at 60 frames per second.

Altec Lansing EVP Speakers

Altec Lansing has refreshed its whole line of Everything-Proof (EVP) speakers. These speakers glide, are IP67-evaluated for waterproofness, and have a remote scope of 100 feet, fun-shaded LED lighting, and a carabineer clasp or convey lash so you can undoubtedly take them anyplace. Most even have Qi remote charging to effectively charge your cellphone from the speaker's battery.

There will be five sizes of the EVP speakers on offer in spring 2020. The two new bigger units offer Play Your Way innovation, taking into consideration vertical-direction, 360-degree omnidirectional sound or even direction, forward looking stereo sound. Estimating ranges from $40 to $200.

Bose Audio Sunglasses

The new audio sunglasses from Bose signal that the future really is here. While providing UV protection, these wearable devices can be used to play music, make and answer calls and connect to bluetooth. They can be pared with your other devices and are capable of accessing apps including Spotify, Skype or Google Maps. Eventually Bose hopes to offer sunglasses that can be connected to fitness and gaming apps too. There are currently two frame shapes to chose from; Alto (pictured) and Rondo

Fitbit Charge 3

Assume responsibility for your wellness with the best tracker

Light designBig screenNo installed GPSNot a shading screen

More refined than the Fitbit Charge 2, the Charge 3 is one of the organization's most cultivated gadgets. It has a more lightweight plan than the last-gen, and it looks better on your wrist. It's our main all-round wellness tracker since the cost has dropped somewhat as of late, and it offers a great deal of knowledge into your general wellbeing.

There's no locally available GPS, and it doesn't have the more test plan of this present guide's past victor, the Moov Now – which doesn't have a screen! the Charge 3 does, in any case, offer a full wellness suite including a pulse tracker. It's even waterproof as well.

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creative-frequency · 6 years ago

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Cayde-6 x Reader: The Trigger Ch. 1

Word count: 2719 Pairing: Cayde-6 (Destiny) x Female Reader Contains: Rating eventually up to mature/explicit, Cayde being Cayde, sass, shooting, chickens, idek yet. Notes: You might be wondering how tf did this happen and I have no excuse, but I can point a finger at @glistoi.

My Writing Masterlist

The refugees, people who had lost their homes, and Guardians, who had lost their Light, had been arriving for weeks. Weeks of tending the wounded, burying the dead, sharing the supplies and scraping by with whatever you could find. Who knew how many more such weeks there was to come?

There had been hard times, it was easy enough to admit, but this was different. They were already calling it “The Red War”. It was a difficult concept to grasp for someone like you. So far, your life had been a rather solitary one, only banding together for convenience or the occasional need to talk to another human being. It was a good, simple way of living.

Life in The Last City had never been for you. You weren’t a Guardian, but the burn of the wanderlust was too tempting, its flame too bright to resist. There were others like you and a handful of them you were proud to call your friends.

Just like you, Suraya Hawthorne had lived half of her life outside the City walls. To neither of you there was no other way of life. The untamed, Fallen-filled wilds of the European Dead Zone were your home and the life of a wanderer was yours.

So, when Suraya came up with the grand idea of transforming your beloved Farm into the cradle of civilization, you couldn’t find the excuse to refuse her your help. Since then she had taken charge of the camp, much to your relief, and handled the daily tasks of running the safe haven.

Your job was much easier. Aim. Shoot. Kill. Provide. Repeat as needed.

The only problem was that the need was getting way too high to handle. The flood of people had peaked already, but there were still more arriving each day, and everyone needed to eat. For someone from the City, the lands of the EDZ were unfamiliar and unquestionably dangerous. To you the terrain was familiar, and most importantly, you knew where to go when one wanted to find something to fill their belly with.

After a particularly rushed, but lucky hunting trip, you were back at the Farm, resting your mind and body by enjoying the warm, sunny day sitting on the grass. Things had started to gradually calm down since the attack on the City as everyone found their daily tasks and the rhythm of the life at the Farm.

People kept coming and going around you, most of them ignoring you, until a pair of boots appeared to your field of vision.

“Oh, hey, they told me to find you.”

“Who’s asking?” You looked up from your rucksack. An Exo. That explained the metallic voice. “And who’s ‘they’?”

“Some guy at the landing. ‘Find the woman with a rifle and a permanent scowl’, so here I am,” he said sounding suspiciously excited. His blue eyes were bright and aimed at you like a pair of flashlights. A light glowed in the back of his throat as he spoke, altering between cold yellow and warm orange shades.

As it happened, you had been cleaning your sniper rifle and the parts were scattered on the grass around you. Half of the Exo’s description certainly fit but taking care of new refugees had never been your job.

“Well, sorry but that’s not me. You’re looking for Suraya Hawthorne – she’s up there,” you said, already focused back on the weapon and nodded to the general direction of the large garage building.

The Exo hummed in thought, nodded and planted his hands on his hips, waiting.

“Did you need something else?” There was a scowl on your face you could swear wasn’t there before his arrival. If someone had asked you to describe Suraya, you would have told them to look for a woman in a poncho with a falcon. Half of the people at the Farm were carrying a rifle and there wasn’t much to smile about these days.

The Exo tilted his head, a somewhat apologetic look on his face. “Could you show me the way? I’m not sure I can find her on my own.”

You looked up to stare at him, trying to figure out was he serious. The pair of blue lights blinked innocently.

“It’s that building over there. She’s probably on the second floor, straight ahead from the stairs at the left,” you explained patiently, now more carefully pointing at the right direction. Even from that distance you could distinguish the woman in a blue poncho, hunched over a table you knew was filled with maps and plans.

“Yeah, okay,” the Exo agreed, but made no motion to any direction.

You waited a few seconds, hoping he would get the hint.

“Fine,” you groaned and placed the barrel you had been cleaning to the ground. No one would dare to touch your stuff anyways, or you would see to that they would never touch anything that belonged to you again.

You ignored the hand reached out in aid, got up and started walking at a brisk pace, silently irritated at being pulled away from your solitude.

“I’m Cayde-6, by the way,” the Exo said and hurried after you.

Out of the shreds of courtesy you managed to dig from inside you, you turned to nod to him over your shoulder.

“Pleasure,” you said curtly but didn’t bother introducing yourself. You wouldn’t have to stand his company ever again anyway.

“So, you live around here?” Cayde questioned to make small talk.

“I do.”

“Uh-huh.”

There was a beat of silence, but he didn’t let it last for long.

“And what do you do?” he asked.

“I’m a hunter.”

Cayde let out a delighted noise. “Oh, what a coincidence! I’m a Hunter too.” He sounded way too excited about the revelation.

“Great,” you muttered and continued stomping up the stairs, not listening to what the Exo was gushing about behind you.

Being a hunter like you, and being a Hunter like him were worlds apart. With each step you were gladder you would get rid of him soon.

“Hawthorne, there’s someone looking for you,” you announced as soon as you stepped onto the second-floor platform.

Suraya was leaning heavily over the map that had been spread on the table. She looked up and her brows raised. “What is it?”

You simply pointed a thumb over your shoulder towards the Exo sauntering after you. You imagined he was throwing finger guns at everyone and everything along with the greetings that kept spilling out of his mouth. Seemed like you had found the noisiest person on the planet.

“Heyy, you must be Hawthorne.”

“And you must be Cayde-6. Welcome to the European Dead Zone.” Suraya straightened up and folded her arms on her chest. Her judgmental gaze scanned over the newcomer.

“Oh. Thanks.” Cayde glanced at you, eyes bright with clear as day mischief. “…For the warm welcome.”

Suraya laughed. “Don’t mind her. She’s our best tracker and that compensates to her people skills.”

You rolled your eyes to the heights, still not feeling like warming up to Cayde the Hunter. You had seen enough Guardians for one life time and had a long time ago deemed it best to avoid them.

“Oh, so that’s what you meant when you said you were a hunter. That’s amazing, though! I let my Ghost handle the tracking stuff.” Cayde was looking at you with completely new interest and it made your insides tingle nervously.

The small, red device appeared in the air as if on cue: “Nice to meet you. My name is Sundance.”

The Ghost made a circle around Cayde’s head before settling to hover above his left shoulder.

“You came from Nessus, didn’t you?” Suraya asked, her brows creasing in thought.

“Yeah. Had a little stuck-in-endless-portal-loop-scenario. The Guardian helped me out,” Cayde explained and chuckled.

Everyone knew which Guardian he was talking about: The only one who had gotten their Light back. News of her heroics around the system had spread like a wildfire.

“You know where she is now?” Suraya continued.

“We left Nessus at the same time. I sent her to Io, she was looking for Ikora, our Warlock vanguard.”

“Ah.”

When the conversation deceased, you started slowly retreating towards the exit, hoping Suraya would handle Cayde and you could go back to being left alone.

“Are you busy now?” she asked sharply, stopping you on your tracks.

“Always,” you turned to say with a blank face.

Suraya looked back to Cayde and her posture relaxed. “You should get some rest before you guys start planning on how to save the world again.” A hint of a smile tugged at her lips. For every Guardian who arrived at the Farm, she seemed happier. The Farm needed people who knew which end of the gun went where. Though you weren’t sure did the Hunter deserve so much credit.

Cayde swatted the air as if saving the world was nothing. “It’s just another Tuesday.”

“Hmh. Have you had time to explore the place?” Suraya’s tone was pondering and the feeling that you were not going to get back to being left alone grew tenfold.

“Nah, just got here,” Cayde said.

“Why don’t you show him around?” Suraya asked you in a tone that didn’t leave any room for argument.

You threw a murderous look at her, but after so many years of friendship, she was immune by now. Cayde, on the other hand, was not so immune to the power of your scornful glare.

“Y’know what? I’m good, really, there’s no–”

“Cayde? Are you there?” a booming shout carried from nearby.

The voice belonged to the Titan Vanguard Commander. You had seen him from afar, never made any contact with and didn’t even want to. He was an Awoken, always armored from neck to toe and seemed to have a stick up his ass but that was probably caused by the recent events. Losing the City you’re supposed to protect will do that.

“On second thought, I could really use a tour.” Cayde grabbed your shoulders and before you could utter a word of protest, he turned you towards the stairs and walked you down.

Suraya just chuckled and went back to her maps.

It was an easy way out of the situation, but as soon as you were down on the ground level, you shook the Exo off your back.

“Hey, I didn’t catch your name back there,” he said.

“That’s cause I didn’t say it,” you muttered loud enough to be heard.

“Yeah, I noticed. Just didn’t want to be rude.”

“You can call me whatever you like. I don’t care.”

“Uuh, I like that…”Cayde rubbed his hands together eagerly. “So, how about–”

You stopped abruptly, interrupting him by almost causing him to bump into you. You didn’t budge when you turned, and instead fixated the scariest, most serious look you could form straight into his bright blue eyes.

Cayde blinked, obviously surprised.

“I have no interest in being your friend, so there’s really no need to try so hard,” you said as you eyed him up and down, for the first time actually looking at him, “…Guardian.”

“Ah, the cold shoulder again!” Cayde waved one finger in the air, as if saying that he knew the answer to this one. “Sorry, I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud, was I? I’m not so good at this whole ‘making friends’ thing–”

A frustrated groan rumbled from your throat as you spun on your heels and continued to try and go on about your business. The rifle needed cleaning, the bow string needed to be changed, there was tons to pack before heading out and your dog was god knows where, so you’d have find him…

But Cayde skittered after you like a puppy wanting to play.

“Don’t you have something to do, Guardian?” you asked angrily, not sparing a look at him. You headed towards the spot where you had left most of your stuff behind the survey unit house.

“First of all, it’s Cayde, C-A-Y-D-E. But I forgive you since we only just became friends.”

Okay now you were sure he was trying to get on your nerves on purpose. You took a sharp inhale before opening your mouth:

“Why don’t you run along–”

The delighted gasp that left Cayde and the reason for it silenced you mid-sentence.

“What is that?” Cayde asked, skittering forward in tiny, dancing steps.

You patted your thigh and made a short whistle.

“A dog?” you said.

“Duh. I know it’s a dog. Of course, it’s a dog. What I mean is what is that doing here?” The pitch of Cayde’s voice heightened as he crouched with open arms, ready to try and hug the animal.

One of your concerns had solved itself as your occasional hunting companion sat on the grass, tail wagging and dark golden eyes peeled at you. You felt a weird sense of satisfaction as he ignored the Exo trying to call out to him.

“Good boy,” you murmured and invited the dog closer for a scratching behind the ear.

Cayde let out a dismayed huff and crossed his arms on his chest. “Now I know what it means that pets and their owners are alike...”

You hummed, decided to overlook the stupid comment and patted the dog’s head. He had noticed you were planning to leave and had come to check could he go with you. The short, orange-brown fur was clean and flowy, a telltale signal of love, care and a bath. Mark and the kids had probably looked after him again. You would have to go thank them before heading out. The thought brought an almost imperceptible smile to your lips.

“What’s his name?” Cayde asked after a few seconds of looking at you and the dog.

You hesitated. “Uh, he doesn’t have one…” At least to your knowledge. It was highly probable that the kids had given him a name. You just called him “the dog”.

You peeked at the horrification on the Exo’s face from under your brows.

“…What?” you asked.

“He doesn’t have a name?! How’s that possible?” Cayde all but screamed.

You shrugged, uncomfortable about the amount of emotion he put into his words.

“Well, he might have one. I just don’t have one for him.” You didn’t want to start explaining how he had been a stray in the wildlands and just tagged along when you had given him some food. Apparently, that had been an unintentional invite to be a part of your pack, but the dog had made himself useful, for sure.

“Then who does?” Cayde questioned with a frown. He was itching to lean down to pet the dog.

“Maybe the kids who live at the camp nearby. I– I don’t know. What does it even matter?” Your gaze shifted from the Exo to the dog. “The tour will have to wait until I get back. Come on, boy.”

As fast as you could, you started throwing the stuff from the ground into the rucksack, all the while trying to act like Cayde’s presence wasn’t bothering you at all.

“You’re ditching me already? I thought we were starting to bond here.” He gestured between himself and you, a mock hurt look on his face.

“I work alone,” you said when you were done and slung the bag over your shoulder. You didn’t mean to look, but Cayde had his hands on his hips again and a stern pout on his face.

“I’m gonna make sure you hold on to that promise, hunter,” he said and a look of dismay passed his features, “Good luck out there.”

A weird sensation fell into the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t snap back at him like you wanted to, nor did you say thanks or even glance at him. The dog waited eagerly by your side, ready to head out into the wilds and the feeling was gradually taking you over too.

“Come back with a story!” Cayde quipped at your retreating back.

As a reaction, only a light huff escaped you. It almost curled the corners of your mouth up.

“Man, I want a pet too,” Cayde said to himself, longingly staring at the dog that was happily trailing after you.

Next Chapter

Tagging: @bleucommelhiver @lucianhuntress @singlebecauseofthechocobros @sherniwrites @owlwrites @toastyfiction @sevansheart

#cayde-6 x reader #cayde-6 #destiny fanfiction #destiny #destiny 2 #fanfiction #my writings

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wamatechnology · 2 years ago

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FLUTTERFLOW: EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW

You're likely already familiar with Flutter, Google's incredibly useful UI toolkit that has made creating apps much simpler. In fact, since May 2021, when FlutterFlow, a drag-and-drop interface created by two former Google developers, was released, things have gotten even simpler. FlutterFlow makes it easy to create mobile apps for both iOS and Android.

In this article, we'll cover everything you need to know about FlutterFlow, including its precise definition, attributes, advantages, and cost. But first, a brief introduction to our beloved Flutter, to give you some perspective.

What is Flutter?

Google Flutter is a "UI toolkit for building beautiful, natively-compiled applications for mobile, web, and desktop from a single codebase," according to the company's website. As a full SDK, it offers users all the tools they need to build cross-platform applications, including pre-made widgets, a rendering engine, and testing and integration APIs.

Google Flutter is free and open-source, integrates with existing code, and is utilized by developers and businesses all over the world. eBay, the Alibaba Group, and BMW are just a few of the development firms presently utilizing Flutter. As a result, among software engineers, it is one of the top preferred skills. When developing Google Ads and smart displays like the Google Home Hub, Google employed the Flutter framework.

What is Flutter Flow

Two former Google developers launched FlutterFlow to serve as a third-party visual app builder for the Flutter platform. It was showcased at Google I/O and is supported by Y Combinator.

As we've already mentioned, FlutterFlow is a drag-and-drop mobile app development tool that runs in the browser. This implies that you don't need to write any code in order to design amazing custom apps in less than an hour. Consider it the Wix or GoDaddy of mobile application development company.

The 2.0 version of the interface, which was introduced at the start of October, is already available. Without giving away its features, there isn't much else we can say, so let's get started!

Features

Build an application without writing any code

Although it may seem rather clear, this is unquestionably the most alluring thing FlutterFlow has to offer.

the creation of both iOS and Android

You can make an app without writing any code, and you can do it simultaneously for iOS and Android.

UI components and templates

You may choose from more than 40 pre-built widgets, over 50 screen designs, and various third-party connectors (like Braintree and Google AdMob) that will save you a tonne of time.

Create your app and add live data to it.

You may easily set up data infrastructure and connect to real-time data using Firebase.

Authentication of users

By integrating Firebase, Google, and Facebook logins, user authentication can be completed very quickly by simply dragging a button.

Configuration of GitHub

With GitHub integration, you may connect your project to a GitHub repository and push the code there whenever you wish.

Obtain the source code

The clean and simple-to-read source code for your mobile app is available for easy download, so you are solely responsible for it.

help with troubleshooting

Through real-time feedback and error correction, any difficulties can be readily avoided and fixed.

Last words on FlutterFlow

FlutterFlow appears to be a wise choice for projects with constrained resources and time constraints. We hope you've learned everything there is to know about FlutterFlow from this article. How do you feel? Ready to give it a try?

The most reputable and well-known Flutter app development company in USA. Wama Technology skilled Flutter mobile app developers make sure that the entire development process is effective and adheres to the exact customer requirements. Our development staff is well-versed in the most up-to-date Flutter app development technologies and techniques. We offer complete Flutter app development services for Android and iOS, including the prototype, UI/UX design, programming, and deployment. To learn more about your Flutter app development project, get in touch with a specialist right away.

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eachainn · 6 years ago

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Round and Round and Back Where You Began (Sormik Week Day 5: Pride)

Author’s Note: Title taken from Turning from Les Miserables.

Sorey twisted to put the cloth back into the dish on the table, pulling the water away from the bowl and into his hand. He held it in careful suspension, distributing it over his hand and cooling it down a fraction before placing his hand against Mikleo’s forehead. He smiled down at his human companion as Mikleo settled against him, sighing in his sleep.

Through the water on his hand he could feel the fever cooling down, Sorey smiling and resting his cheek against the top of Mikleo’s head. It had been a harrowing few days after Mikleo had fainted in the shrinechurch. He’d only heard that Mikleo wasn’t feeling well before he’d collapsed. Lailah hadn’t filled him in until Mikleo was safely tucked up in the inn.

Sorey swept his fingers under Mikleo’s bangs, trying to spread the cool water across as much of Mikleo’s forehead. According to Lailah, there was nothing else to do but keep him cool and wait for his body to adjust to the new powers that he had been given. So far Mikleo had been asleep three days, but Sorey had waited longer back when Mikleo had been young.

Mikleo had been a fragile baby. Winter chills became colds and then got worse. Spring was unbearable. And he had sat by Mikleo through it all. There had been no other choice. Mikleo was his playmate, his best friend, his one and only. Exploring wasn’t the same without him. Sorey was sure that Mikleo would be annoyed that Sorey hadn’t been looking around Ladylake while he had been out. But it wouldn’t have been the same for Mikleo to talk to. There was no one else in Ladylake that would see him, and that was a strange kind of loneliness.

Sorey leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Mikleo’s head, pausing when he felt Mikleo stir in his arms. He lifted his head slightly, smiling down at Mikleo as Mikleo opened his eyes.

The human looked blearily around the room before tipping his head up. Mikleo blinked up at him, obviously taking some time to really focus on him. When he did, Mikleo just hummed and leaned his head back on Sorey’s shoulder. “Feels nice.”

“Does it? Because you were bound and determined to keep the cloth off of your head.”

“I was? Can’t remember.”

“You flung it across the room once.”

“Must not have been right.”

“I guess not.” Sorey nuzzled into Mikleo’s hair. “Picky.”

Mikleo huffed, reaching to wrap his fingers around Sorey’s wrist. He went silent for a moment, Sorey sure that Mikleo had slipped back to sleep. Sorey was more than willing to let Mikleo rest. The power he had seen Mikleo wield was extraordinary, far beyond what a human body was used to. If this was the power of the Shepherd, Sorey was surprised that there weren’t more stories about them collapsing. Then again, it wouldn’t have been quite as awe inspiring if the Shepherds were falling down all the time.

He shifted his hold on Mikleo, settling the human more comfortably against himself. Sorey was in the middle of calculating how to roll them so they were lying in bed again when Mikleo shifted.

Mikleo knocked his leg against Sorey’s before grumbling and tugging on Sorey’s wrist. “Down.”

Sorey let go of him slightly so they could both wiggle down. He was quick to curl around Mikleo again, pulling him close. He nuzzled into the fine hairs on the back of Mikleo’s neck. He wanted to press kisses all over Mikleo’s neck and hair, but he held himself back. Mikleo still wasn’t himself, he was sluggish, half-asleep and still warm. Sorey hummed and focused his artes inward, cooling himself down.

It had an immediate effect, Mikleo making a pleased noise and leaning back into him. “You’re too good to me.”

Sorey chuckled, dropping his hand away from Mikleo’s forehead and letting the water evaporate away. “Will you remember that when you wake up?”

“Mmmm, no.”

“I thought not. So cruel to your faithful seraph companion.”

“Lailah’s my prime lord.”

“Yes, but who’s the prime lord of your heart.”

Mikleo twisted slightly to look at him, Sorey trying his best to look pitiful while he was holding back laughter. Mikleo stared at him for a moment before rolling back over. “Someone who doesn’t say things like that.”

“Mikleo….” Sorey nuzzled back into his neck. “You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that. And after I gave you my true name.”

He felt Mikleo tense in his arms, Sorey letting go when Mikleo tapped at his arms. Sorey laid still as Mikleo turned around, frowning at how laborious it seemed to be. Maybe part of the effort that went into being able to wield the powers of purification was physical. Sorey made a note of that. He would try and get some hot water on the sorest parts of Mikleo once the fever dropped more.

He was so busy looking for problem spots that he didn’t realize that Mikleo had finished turning until he felt Mikleo’s forehead against his own, the warmth of Mikleo’s forehead startling against his own. Sorey looked up at Mikleo’s eyes which were still slightly hazy from his fever. They fluttered shut the longer that they stayed in contact with Sorey’s forehead. “Mmm, nice, Dilectuspei Munid.”

Sorey couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his true name. He shifted so he could rub their noses together. “Does this mean you love me again?”

“Obsem shu kswak xi ios aby ramupimublu knammink ok amm.”

Sorey chuckled at the way that Mikleo slurred the ancient tongue into almost one long word. “Flatterer.”

Mikleo gave him a lopsided smile before tucking himself close. When he spoke it was against Sorey’s throat. “Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Always.” Sorey brushed and kiss across the top of Mikleo’s head as he tangled their legs together. He pulled Mikleo closer, holding the human protectively against the cold of his body. “I’ll always be here when you wake up, Mikleo.”

Obsem shu kswak xi ios aby ramupimublu knammink ok amm – Until the stars go out and malevolence swallows us all.

Sorey’s true name is a mix of Latin and the Ancient Tongue. Roughly translates out to Sorey the Beloved Hope.

#my fic #sormikweek2018 #sormik #tales of zestiria

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izumiiorin-blog · 7 years ago

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End of a Dream

A lone figure sat at their computer, hands hovering over the keys as they shook with grief. They couldn’t bring themselves to write, they couldn’t hear the voice of their beloved Iorin any more. That’s right, the idol they adored, their sweet, princely Izumi Iori…--

Was being replaced by the likes of a nasty fake.

An Izumi Iori who was not loving of his fans, an Izumi Iori who fawned over a group member far less superior… An Izumi Iori who smiled towards someone else, who focused his love on a single person and not the people who made him the star he was today..!

Disgusting! Absolutely ungrateful!

Anger suddenly coursed through out every line of their veins; how dare this imposter toy with their feelings and take their enamor for granted? The thousands of dollars they spent on merchandise and concerts..!

They stood up suddenly in their fervor and reached to tear at a poster of Iori sharing a dazzling smile their way, that alluring and dazzling look... … No. No, it wasn’t over. Not yet. They didn’t need to rip up their special edition memorabilia, or break their CD collection… their love for Iori was the greatest of them all, they could be the one to fix this. In fact, they were the only one that could dispose of this imposter and make right the wrongs he had done onto his undying fans.

And with that resolution alone did they set out into the night, skipping with glee, a manic smile reflected in the likes of a glistening steak knife.

“This is bad... I can’t believe I forgot something so important...”

And though Iori had agreed not to leave his temporary home unattended, Riku and Ten were both out late tonight, and Iori needed to have the costume for tomorrow. The job was far too early to warrant waking up early, the trains and buses wouldn’t be running reliably at any time later than that... From all the things Iori considered, there would be no way he would be able to get what he needed in time without going out by himself.

Things had been calm for the past few days since he began staying with the twins, and it lulled Iori into a false sense of security. Even though, by all rights, he should have still been cautious. A less weary Iori may have been. But the current Iori was ready for all of this to be over.

“At the very least, I’ll tell Nanase-san and Kujou-san...”

With that, he sent the text messages, reassuring the two that he would be quick, Iori put his coat on and headed out...

“Let’s see... It was in my room last... So it must be...”

He groped around in the darkness for the light switch, and flipped it on...

And nearly stumbled back in shock at the sight.

“...?!”

Sitting on the neatly made bed was the likes of a disheveled looking fan, fish-like eyes lighting up upon settling their widening gaze upon Iori.

“You came…! You’re actually here in the flesh! Iorin! Io--ah, no, wait... you just look like Iorin…. I almost got carried away. Eehee…. What a shame, it’s such a shame.. heeheehee...”

They were giggling with mirth, albeit the most obvious flag despite there being a complete disillusioned stranger in his bedroom, was the fact that they were dangerously equipped with a large knife.

“Who...who are you?! Why are you in my room?!”

“I’m here…. Because you’re the fake. You’re the imposter ruining Iorin’s image….”

“What?! That’s absurd! As if I would ever--”

He stopped dead in his tracks.

This person. This was the one who had been stalking him. Who had made that blog devoted to him. Who had tampered with the equipment to fall on Riku. He was dangerous.

And the moment Iori began to back away is when they became hostile, getting up off of the bed and brandishing their knife.

“So I’ll get rid of you… I’ll kill the fake for messing with the hearts of Iorin’s fans!”

Iori turned on his heel and ran for the door.

The maniacal laughter that rung out from the back of his apartment was almost more unnerving than the whole prospect of a homicidal fanatic chasing after him; and several knocked over pieces of furniture later did Iori manage to unlock and slip out the door….but not before the stalker caught up momentarily and stuck the knife fast into the back of his shoulder.

"Nngh...!” The edge of the knife burned like cold fire and it was all Iori could do to wrench himself away. He continued running down the hall, his arm like dead weight as blood dribbled down it and stained his sleeve.

“Stay still you fucking imposter! I won’t let you get away! This is my job! Iorin is counting on me!”

The manic voice followed him down the deserted apartment hallway and Iori ran and ran and ran. The dim glow of the elevator buttons alerted him to the exit, but the stalker was on his heels. Even if he got to the elevator first, if the stalker caught him on any of the floors, he would be finished. Iori kept running until he got to the stair well, clumsily opening the door.

“...!”

Vertigo came over him like a wave and as he took the first step down, his knee buckled and he fell, tumbling down the stairs. His back came against the wall painfully as he willed himself to move, aching wrists and shoulders and ankles now plaguing him with pain. It hurt, everything hurt as he struggled to stand and continue downwards. He heard the door opening again, and Iori continued to limp, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t be bleeding out...

One...two...three...four...

These were the last set of stairs. Iori threw open the door and stumbled towards the apartment entrance, running out into the street.

Nanase-san.

He had to tell Riku.

He fumbled with his phone, his bloodied hand slipping against the plexiglass of the screen as he clumsily tried to dial his number.

“IooooriiiiiinnnnnNNNNN!!”

“...!!”

The tip of the knife grazed against his back and Iori dropped his phone, which clattered onto the pavement. Iori had no time to double back for it and continued running. But where could he go? There was barely any place to hide, the only place was the alleyway--

“IiiIIiIIIoooOOOooRRiiIIIiNNNnnNNN!”

But Iori’s wounds got the better of him.

The stalker tackled into him hard, using their body weight to their advantage as they wrestled Iori down. But in this adrenaline pumping moment, pure instinctive fear grappling them both, it was the stalker who proved more adept in the end, striking with all of their might at the tip of their weapon stuck into Iori’s torso. Iori’s mouth opened in a soundless scream, his eyes wide as the blade buried itself deep into his abdomen, carving through flesh and sinking deep into his body. The stalker’s expression was unreadable, blurred in the horrific moment as the knife finally pulled away, squelching flesh bleeding profusely. The stalker seemingly lost heart and took upon themselves the realization of what they had just done. “Hhh….. hhhhhiiiii!!” Screeching out and sticking the blade from Iori’s stomach, they scrambled off of him finally, stumbling up towards their feet, and observing their work for a few seconds more; the look of horror etched upon their features changed just then to that of desperate elation, as if trying to justify their unwarranted actions further.

“Ahah… hahahaha! I’ve… I’ve done it..! The… the fake is dead! The fake is gone! Iorin… Iorin will be so pleased!”

They ran off with those false sentiments, leaving the not-so-dead Iori to bleed out on the pavement.

Iori’s breaths came out as laboured gasps as he could do nothing more but grasp desperately at the wound in his abdomen as it bled. Cold drops of rain fell onto his face, frigid and icy, and it made all feeling disappear.

Manager... Nii-san...

Nanase-san...

Riku.

He had dialed Riku’s number right before he dropped his phone. The phone should’ve still been on the call screen.

Iori struggled to stand, but fell forward into the puddles that had already formed. One hand pressed to the wound, the other dragging him forward, Iori crawled towards his phone, still alight in the dark street. The rain came down in torrents around him, soaking him to the bone as he reached for the call button.

“Iori?”

He heard Riku’s phone over the speakers and could barely croak out a response.

“...Nanase...-s...an...

“...intersection...by complex 4... Please...

His eyelids felt so heavy. He was in pain everywhere.

He was scared.

“...help...m...e.......”

Iori let his head fall, and with it came his silence, while Riku was still on the line...

#gendainotenshi #idolish7center #violence tw #stabbing tw

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silvormoon · 7 years ago

Text

Buttons

After the graduation ceremony, so many of the third-year Apes flock to give their buttons to the Beppu twins that they’re nearly stampeded. They have to run and take shelter behind Gora, who shouts and waves his axe until everyone agrees to form up into two orderly lines, one for each twin. Once everyone has settled down, the twins are happy to graciously accept their admirers’ gifts, and offer words of hard-earned advice: Don’t worry if you hit a roadblock in your chosen path - sometimes what you think you want isn’t what’s best for you. Don’t be jealous of someone else’s success - learn from their example and let them inspire you. When you go out into the world and find yourself surrounded by strangers, it can be scary to try to make friends, but don’t let that stop you - maybe the person you’re longing to be friends with needs a friend, too.

Kinshiro makes his way through to Akoya and solemnly twists the button off his jacket.

“I’m leaving it all to you,” he says. “You’ll be president of the Student Council now, so please take good care of my beloved Binan High for me. Try to learn from my mistakes and be a better president than I was.”

“I’ll do my best,” Akoya promises. Then he surprises Kinshiro by putting his arms around him and hugging him tightly.

“You and Arima were the first real friends I ever had,” he whispers. “Take care of yourselves out there, and come visit me again soon.”

For a moment, Kinshiro has no idea what to do. Then he closes his arms around his friend and returns the embrace. They stand like that for a long time.

En ambles his way over to stand with Io.

“Well, I guess that’s it,” he says. He offers a button to Io, who eyes it with some curiosity. Usually he’s the first to take free things, but he’s not sure if this can really be meant for him.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

“I’d like you to have it,” says En. “And maybe, once in a while, look at it and remember that it’s okay to slow down and take it easy once in a while. You only get but so much life to live. I don’t want to see you get to the end and realize you spent the whole thing saving up for a future that you aren’t going to get.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” says Io. He flashes a smile. “And, Sempai... I hope, wherever you’re going, you’ll find something you love doing as much as I love what I do. You know, a wise man once said, ‘Find a job you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life.’”

En grins. “Well, I don’t know about that!” and they both laugh.

Ryuu stands amid a crowd of admirers - he can’t match the Beppus for sheer popularity, but he has his share of admiration even from the older students. It takes him a while to realize that Arima isn’t just drifting aimlessly, but charting a course through the crowd towards him.

“What’s up?” he says. He knows Arima is a friend, a part of the team, but they’ve barely exchanged more than a handful of words in all the time they’ve known each other.

“I’ve decided to give this to you,” says Arima, offering him a button.

“Why me?” Ryuu asks.

“Who knows? It seemed like a good idea,” says Arima, with his usual vague smile, but there’s a twinkle in his eye that suggests he thinks a great deal more than he’s saying. “And perhaps, also, as a reminder.”

“Of what?” Ryuu asks. “It’s not like I’m ever going to forget any of this.”

“Nothing like that,” says Arima. “Only... I know you’re the sort who loves variety. You have a lot of love to give, and you like to share it around to everyone, and that’s fine. But I thought it wouldn’t hurt to remind you that there’s something to be said for the idea of devotion.” He smiles fondly in the direction of Kinshiro, who is still trying awkwardly to escape Akoya’s embrace without hurting his feelings. “When you find one person whose happiness matters to you, when you get the chance to stand beside them for the long haul, to watch them struggle and grow stronger, to share in their happiness... I think there can be no greater joy in life than that. I hope you won’t miss out on it.”

Thoughtfully, Ryuu takes the button from Arima’s fingers. His gaze strays to where Io and En are still laughing and joking together.

“You know,” he says, “you might just be on to something, there.”

“Here,” says Atsushi, pressing a button into Yumoto’s hand. “This is for you.”

“For me?” Yumoto looks down at the tiny thing in his hands as though he had never imagined such a thing could exist, or could happen to him.

“That’s right,” says Atsushi. “I think we’d all give you ours if we could, but there’s only but so many second buttons to go around, so I hope you’ll think of this as being from all of us.”

“Thank you,” says Yumoto, with that sincerity that only he can muster. “I’ll treasure it.”

Atsushi smiles. “I know you will. You know, I’m counting on you. It’s up to you to keep the Earth Defense Club going once we’re gone.”

Yumoto looks downcast. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Sure you can.” Atsushi puts a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. “En and I might have started it, and I might have been the one to put my name on all the paperwork, but you’ve always been the heart of the team. More than anyone else, you’re the one best qualified to keep the spirit of the club alive.”

“What should I do?” Yumoto asks.

“What you’ve always done,” said Atsushi. “I think... from now on... you should try to find the ones who would have been monsters, before they can become one. Find the ones who are all eaten up with anger, or loneliness, or jealousy, or despair, and show them what love is all about, in that way that comes naturally to you.”

“I don’t know if I can do it without you,” says Yumoto. “It just won’t be the same.”

“Of course you can,” Atsushi says. “Think about it. When the club started, it was just En-chan and me. Then Io and Ryuu joined, and then you, and then we got to be friends with Kin-chan and Ibu-chan and Akoya and the Beppu brothers. The club is always changing, but the heart of it stays the same. When school starts again, you’ll be the sempai, and you’ll find the ones who need the Earth Defense Club and bring them into it. You’ll teach them all about love, and friendship, and about baths and goofing off and having fun. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?” His eyes brighten a bit, and he smiles. “It really is. It doesn’t matter where we go, or how far apart we are, we’ll still have the spirit of the club with us. As long as we remember that, there will always be an Earth Defense Club.”

#boueibu #Boueibu OAV #fanfic

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