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eloquent-vowel · 3 years ago

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Hey! I have a request! Bucky x reader where the reader is from the red room. Maybe the avengers just got her out and Buckys helping her through the ptsd and stuff? Maybe she locks herself away to her room because she’s scared to do anything for herself? Also maybe some platonic nat? Sorry if that was too specific. Feel free to add your own ideas and change stuff or just ignore if you don’t like the idea! Thanks!

Hi! Thank you so much for the request, I'm sorry it took me so long, life has been evil to me and I may or may not have forgotten this blog actually had readers. I love me some good hurt/comfort. I hope what I have written works!

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When the Avengers had burst into the facility you had been kept in, with all the bravado of heroes you were shocked. You had heard whispers of these warriors that you were being trained eliminate. You had heard stories of the Black Widow who had betrayed the Red Room and while you didn't want to give yourself hope, a small part of you always longed to do the same. To be done with the endless list of missions and targets, to finally stop piling up the blood on your hands.

They had arrested you originally. You didn't blame them, you were one of the most active members of the programme, You had lost count of how many instructions you had followed, how many targets you had eliminated and you had no doubt that the Avengers had your face on their wall of targets.

That was why, when the Winter Soldier aimed a gun at your head you just knelt to the ground as you watched your seniors begin to fight the other Avengers. You didn't say a word in the carrier back to wherever they were taking you. It was easy to hide behind a bravado of stony silence, to pretend that your entire existence hadn't just been ripped away from you.

That was why, when the blank faces of the Black Widow and the Winter Soldier, stared at you from the other side of the interrogation table, you felt a panicked warmth creep up your neck. They begun to question you about the other facilities and to their surprise, you guessed by the way they looked at each other as you talked, you spoke truthfully and honestly to them. You told them everything you knew.

"If I can stop anymore becoming like me, I will. Everything I know is yours, I won't lie to protect something so hideous as the red room."

Because for as much as the red room tried to convince you otherwise, seeing young girl after young girl die by another girl was not right. Not right in the slightest. The more you saw of the world outside of the Room the more aware you became of this, so by the time it was to end, you promised to do anything to help the Avengers take down the remaining branches of the Black Widow Programme.

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Around 6 months after you had been captured, you were settled into the avengers compound, much to your surprise. You had been there personally to help the avengers gain access to some of the branches and during those mission you had begun a strong friendship with Nat and a... a something with Bucky.

There was something about the gruff man that was so gentle that drew you in. The way his smile lit up when a certain song came on and the little dances he would do while brewing coffee made your heart flutter- despite how much you tried to convince it not too.

It was a nice life, in the compound, you mostly stuck to your room until you were asked to help on a mission, or if Nat asked to spar with you. You still had not gotten rid of the memories, however. These vivid memories haunted you, if you weren't keeping busy your brain would wonder to times before. To victims of the red room, and your victims, the ones you had killed.

Their faces didn't hover as much as their voices, every plea they made would ring in your ears whenever there was a moment of silence. They whispered from the corner of your room at night, nothing would stop them from filling the void of silence. This meant that sleep did not come as easily to you.

It was one of those nights. When every time you closed your eyes there would be nothing but whispers and your brain seemed determined to run through every memory you regretted. There was only one solution to these nights, a good cup of tea (with a splash of whiskey in). So you pottered over to the kitchen, footfalls naturally silent as you boiled the kettle. Tony probably had some fancy gadget that would do the whole process more efficiently, but the sound of boiling water was rather grounding.

Perhaps your focus on the water was why you didn't hear the figure walking up behind you until you felt a slight breath on your neck. Training and years of being on the run kicked into gear and you immediately whipped around to punch her assailant around the jaw, and kicked a foot out to trip them. The figure fell with a very familiar oof, one recognisable from training.

It was Bucky.

Oh god, it was Bucky. Kind, thoughtful, gentle Bucky who had probably come out to check on you. The same Bucky who made you coffee in the morning, that was now lying on the floor clutching his eye as you looked down at him. And then his face, his figure, was all your other victims. A woman in hospital garb, a man in a suit, a wife, a sister, a child. It was too much, you had to run.

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Bucky watched as they ran from the kitchen, he stood up from the floor as the sound of a door slamming echoed through the tower. He rubbed at his jaw, how could he have been so stupid. Sneaking up on someone who was struggling with PTSD and running on little sleep, he didn't think.

"You gonna get that?" Nat's voice was hushed as she offered him a hand up.

He took it, pulling himself up, pausing to think for a moment before walking hesitantly over to the door. He knocked as quietly as possible. He could hear the gasping sobs coming from the other side of the walls.

Nat hovered on his other side, staying within comfort radius in case she was needed.

"Heya Doll." Bucky started, as there was no sign of reply he continued. "You alright?" Still silence. "I'm sorry I snuck up on you like that, it was my fault, should've thought but as Steve would say, thinking ain't always my strong suit."

He caught the sound of movement, hesitant footsteps coming towards the door.

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You managed to control your breathing enough to shuffle over to the door. You placed your hand over the door, where you imagined Bucky to be leaning. Guilt filled your conscious once more and the apology flew out of you before you could stop it.

"I'm so sorry, Bucky. God I am so sorry."

"It's fine, Doll."

"No, no its not!" You were practically yelling at the door now. "I hurt you. What if one day I kill you? You catch me with a knife in my hand and I jump, what then. For crying out loud I can't even make a cup of tea without hurting someone, I can't do anything. I'm sorry, I am so sorry that I'm so useless and I-"

"Hey, hey, hey breathe." Bucky's calm and even tone halted your rant. "Listen to me. Everyone of us has had moments like that, we all have our demons and those demons sometimes cause us to lash out. I've done worse than punch Steve many times, would you call me useless?"

You sniffed as you shook your head, forgetting he couldn't see you.

"Besides," He continued, "We all have our strengths, we all have our weaknesses but you know what's great? We are a team. Where one person can't make a cup of tea, another can make the best brew in the country. You don't have to face these things alone, Doll. We are all here for you, I am here for you, always will be."

You slowly began to open the door as he spoke, and looked up into the most sincere pair of blue eyes you had ever seen. There was a slight bruise coming up below his eye but he was smiling. He was doing that smile that meant his eyes crinkled, twinkling brightly- like stars.

"I'm sorry, Bucky."

"You don't have anything to apologise for, Doll, but you're forgiven."

You crept forward, reaching out for something, someone and the easy smile that filled your face as Bucky's arms wrapped around you in the most comforting hug you had ever had. You felt the faint echo of lips against your head and you gripped onto him tightly.

"You two are adorable."

The two of you separated slowly at Nat's voice. Not completely, there was still the comforting feeling of Bucky's hand against your back.

Nat's face was softer than you had ever seen it and there was nothing but understanding in her eyes as she spoke. "If you ever need someone to talk to come knock on my door. I know I would have loved to have someone there who knew."

Words caught in your throat as you nodded. You were soon wrapped in another comforting hug from Natasha, the scent of her perfume comforting and warm. The way forward would be hard but you knew that with these two by your side, your family, things would be a little easier than they had been.

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queenofthefullmoon · 4 years ago

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An exhaustive list of Bloodborne bosses I would or would not date

Father Gascoigne

We’re starting this list off with a strong yes. You may be like, but Blue, this is a married man with two daughters! To this I reply: I pretend not to hear it. Also, not to be horrible, but his wife is dead while I’m right there baby, with my blunderbuss and my axe, and I’m ready to risk it all. YES, I know he’s a very stinky man, but you gotta make compromises sometimes. What’s that smell? Ah, the sweet dilf, it sings to me.

Cleric Beast

Let me be clear, I’m not a furry, but the Cleric Beast has stated some facts and made some points! The only reason why I’m not to keen on dating it is that it can’t best me in battle, which is something I’m always looking for in a partner.

Blood Starved Beast

Our first no of the list, I’m not very into skin flaps and poison, which the Blood Starved Beast has plenty of. Moreover, I’d have to get Djura’s approval, and that scares me beyond anything else in Yharnam.

Vicar Amelia

Another Cleric Beast, this time with a bit more flair to it. First of all we just have to admire the way she transforms, very sexy and bloody, which is something you’re gonna want in your relationship if you’re someone who likes fun. (Thiccar) Amelia, cradle me like your golden pendant.

Hemwick witches

Another hard no here. No offense, but I like having eyes, and dating a pair of witches covered in eyes that they’ve been harvesting for years doesn’t seem like a good idea to me!

Shadows of Yharnam

Honestly yeah? You get 3 cool partners in black robes for the price of one. They all wield different weapons, which makes for two excellent things. First of all, you get a very efficient bodyguard team (useful at parties, when a hunter gets drunk on blood, or when you open your front door and a beast is there). Secondly, if you want to have a fun sparring match with your partners, which we all know is a fundamental activity in a couple, you have very varied options!

And a bonus for animal lovers: they can spawn snakes at will for you!! Never a boring day with your 3 hooded partners.

Rom, the vacuous spider

NO. Don’t date Rom. She’s baby! She doesn’t understand what’s going on. Instead, here’s a list of nice activities you can do with Rom:

- Read her stories

- Trims her back growths

- Clean her teeth

- Make her some cute little glasses

- Knit matching socks for her and her children

- Teach her new spells

- Not date her

Darkbeast Paarl

Paarl is a similar situation as Rom. He’s just a little puppy… He doesn’t know what dating is. He knows what going on a walk means, though! So go on, go on a happy little walk with Paarl. He’ll love it, you’ll have fun, everyone will be happy.

Amygdala

Yes. Evidence that it’s a good idea is: lots of arms (good hugs), can grab the shit out of me, CAN and WILL crush me, can sometimes shatter my consciousness with its eldritch powers (very sexy), can send me in other dimensions, will annihilate my enemies with a funky laser beam, and the most amazing feature: can pop it’s eyes out of its skull like a stress ball (fun trick to show your friends at parties). The ideal girlfriend.

The One Reborn

NO!!!!! There’s a lot of freaky stuff I’d date in Bloodborne but the One Reborn is NOT one of them. Firstly, it has 6 nannies. Do I look like the type of person who wants their dates consistently moderated by 6 Pthumerian elders? No!!! I’m a free bitch baby!! And in addition to that, Juan Reborn just has too many limbs. It’s not okay. If we ever got engaged I wouldn’t know where to slip the ring.

Micolash, Host of the Nightmare

Would I..? No, I wouldn’t… Unless? Haha, just kidding. Wait… Actually… Um.

I mean… If you’re into bastardous hysterical little men who howl while running around, sure. BUT beware… You might lose him in a mirror and never find him again, which I find very inconvenient. Imagine going shopping with a guy who compulsively disappears in mirrors. Imagine explaining to the store employees why your dumbass boyfriend broke all their mirrors.

Also, how will we kiss? With the cage on the way?

Oh god, do I have to wear a cage too?

Celestial Emissaries

I’m not against having a multitude of partners but I’m afraid that might be too much for me. Also, they look like little tiny bebes. I know I’ve said before that I wasn’t ready to be a parent, but I might make an exception for the Celestial Emissaries — let them chill in my home, make them pb&j sandwiches, stuff like that.

Ebrietas, Daughter of the Cosmos

Dear Ebrietas… I have a lot of fondness for her but she looks way too much like mac’n’cheese for comfort. She’s invited for sleepovers and all, no doubt about that, but I see our future together as platonic.

Martyr Logarius

Now Listen… Logarius is an Enemy of women. The proof of his crimes still remains in Cainhurst castle. Do I want to date the genocidal Yharnam Santa? Are you really asking me that? Do you take me for Executioner Alfred? I am not crazy. I will not date Martyr Logarius and his red skulls spamming ass (however miss Annalise queen of the Vilebloods, call me).

Mergo’s Wet Nurse

Um yes of course? Tall dark eldritch wife? I feel like Mergo’s Wet Nurse is the Dancer of Bloodborne, where I’m in a situation where I’m presented with the ideal girlfriend and people expect me to say no because she’s an enormous eldritch entity who could kill me in one hit or whatever. Do you think me a coward? Do you believe that I am not willing to risk it all for invisible girls? Think again.

Gehrman, the First Hunter

Ew no! Gross! He’s gonna make a doll designed after me and I will have to call the police!

Moon Presence

On one hand yes (see Mergo’s Wet Nurse) but on the other hand… I feel like the Moon Presence would be too possessive and easily jealous. I just need some freedom, yknow? The liberty to go out and make friends with other Great Ones. And I know she would NOT like that. She’d ask me if I’m the only Great One I’m talking to and I’d have to nervously hide my phone and say Yes Babe Always Babe, lest she would shackle me to an unending dream. I’m not about that life.

Ludwig the Accursed/the Holy Blade

I genuinely don’t know what to say. The screaming horse man? Am I— the horse boy? Him? No. I… I’m not gonna. I love his sword. Lots of class. Very good theme song, could be cool to have him as a friend (maybe I could ride him around to different locations?) but to date? Kiss his horse mouth? KISS HIS EYE MOUTH? You could say that… Neigh.

Laurence, the First Vicar

NOW WE’RE TALKING BABEY… All the class of the Cleric Beast with FIRE included! Picture this: it’s the winter, it’s snowing, and you’re cold… NOT! You are dating a FLAMING BEAST, you are never cold. Laurence has one proper arm to hold you and one arm that’s a constant flaming inferno, which means he’s great for the summer and the winter, depending on which temperature you want to be at. Your enormous flaming boyfriend will always be at your side.

Living Failures

First of all mood, second of all, this is kind of a Celestial Emissaries situation where I’m not against having many partners but I don’t want a whole congregation of them. There’s just too many Living Failures. I also like dating people with faces? And that aren’t, like, blue. So it’s a no from me, but I’ll befriend them. I’ll go garden with them and all. We can have a girls’ night, it’s all good.

Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower

I’m gonna have to be predictable and say yes here, but fair warning, Lady Maria isn’t for everyone! I know she looks like the perfect wife, but get this; this lady is a hunter. She’s only a lady because she’s related to royals. She has nothing ladylike in her. You think she takes baths? You think she knows what self-care IS????? I laugh at your ignorance, at how you misunderstand her. Maria is a stinky girl; but she is MY stinky girl.

Orphan of Kos

I don’t want to date the Orphan of Kos because he was literally just born and still has his placenta attached to him. I don’t care for infants, and I don’t care for violent infants. I wouldn’t even want to invite him over to play with the Celestial Emissaries or something. He’s like that asshole child in kindergarten who hurts the other kids for fun. Am I being harsh to a literal baby and an orphan at that? Maybe. But Kos herself couldn’t tell me I’m wrong.

Bonus chalice boss: Yharnam, Pthumerian Queen

Now listen here… Yharnam is a queen, tall and kinda eldritch, absolutely rabid, which we’ve established is my type. Shall I step on the toes of Oedon and declare her mine? Perhaps. She has a very powerful scream, which worries me in case of a domestic fight, but overall I get to marry a kind of eldritch queen, which is alright in my book. I know she has an equally eldritch baby, but it’s formless, so it doesn’t bother me that much. Dark Souls 1 ll Dark Souls 2 SOTFS ll Dark Souls 3

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hargroves-angel · 5 years ago

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Time Changes People / 1

Chapter 1 - These Lies You Tell Yourself

Warnings - Swearing, Smoking, Cigarettes

You stepped out of the car. People stared. Of course they stared. This wasn’t the Y/N Eastwood that used to come to Hawkins. You were a changed girl, scrap that you were a whole new woman. Your days of pretty dresses and floral perfume were over.

That was all thanks to New York City. Once your father had been offered his new job at a high end lab facility over there, you had to leave. Your father worked so efficiently that he’d managed to get enough money to purchase the lab he worked at, along with favours from friends and colleagues.

The new school you had gone to was so different from Hawkins High. The boys were all very handsome but also assholes, the girls were pretty but much more bitchy. You also worked efficiently, learning that the only way to fit in was to get a new attitude, new closet and a new car.

That was the new you, and you didn’t hate it. You ruled that school, dated various guys and slept around a few times, you’d started smoking, something you weren’t too proud of but only when you were stressed. Everything was perfect, your current boyfriend Tom was starting to think about college and you had made a plan to move in together once school was over. But no, that was all changed. You still remember the morning.

It was last week of summer before school started again, your last year. Your brother Sean came into your room.

“Dipshit” he shouted as he banged the wall annoyingly. You groaned and threw a pillow at him.

“What?!” He threw a flat packed cardboard box into your room. “We are leaving tomorrow, hurry up and pack”

“Leaving?!” Sean nodded.

“We are going back to fucking Hawkins” He left with that delivery of news. Your blood ran cold. ‘WHAT’. Your mind raced as you ran downstairs. Your other two brothers were arguing with your dad already. Sean was smirking in the background as George and Arthur complained to your father. They were triplets all a year older than you. Unlike you, back in Hawkins they were party animals. Very popular, a lifestyle you only now started to understand.

You huffed as your father tried to explain to them that it was due to his work. It got to the point where you heard your dad scream at them. “We are leaving tomorrow there is nothing you can do about it, pack right now!” He was pissed.

Everyone went silent as you all sulked back upstairs. You immediately called Tom, he offered to come over and help pack, spend some last moments with you. It all happened so fast and before you knew it you had to say goodbye to the house you’d grown to love. You held Tom one last time, you promised to make it work, long distance plus it was only a year, he waved goodbye, your number written on his arm.

Once you’d arrived to Hawkins, you were reminded of that past you. A weaker you. You hated that memory. You were so innocent, such a goodie two shoes who wouldn’t dream of going near someone who smoked let alone date one and become one yourself. Cringing at the thought of your flouncy dresses and sensible shoes.

You drove your car into the drive way of the address your father had given you, your brothers were driving their cars whilst your father drove the moving van, he was going to buy a new car once he got here. A fresh start he called it. Bullshit.

This house was huge compared to your old house in Hawkins. The small three bedroom bungalow. Not even enough space for a dining room. It was cosy at least, not too small. This place was beautiful, with perfectly trimmed hedges, it had three floors and every bedroom had an en-suite, you bagged the top floor because in your words : “you’re the only girl in the house therefore require the most privacy”

After having unpacked your stuff, the start of Hawkins High soon dawned on you. You’d stayed inside the rest of the three days you had left here. No way where you letting anyone get a sneak peak of what was to come, obviously they wouldn’t suspect it would be you. After all Y/N Eastwood was the innocent church girl who baked cookies and hung around with Nancy Wheeler.

This now leads us onto where we are currently.

You, in the parking lot of the school, people whispering your name. Some people barely even believing it was you. Grabbing a cigarette from your denim jacket that hung loosely on your figure you took a drag from it. Smoke lacing your lungs. You took your bag from your car and locked it. The school bell rang whilst you made your way across to the school. Your heels clicking against the concrete.

It was that clicking of - Heels?- that confused Billy, he thought that you were a guy, I mean your car and your number plate, it didn’t make sense. His head moved to look at the this “Eastwood”. He felt his pants get a little tight.

He watched your ass as you strutted across the parking lot. A short, white, pleated skirt with a tight, cropped, black ,cami top that was cut into a V neck, that accentuated your cleavage. A denim jacket wrapped around you, slightly oversized. A pair of black heels heals to complete the look.

The cigarette that hung from his lips nearly fell on the ground. He watched Carol and Tina run after you, desperate.

He heard Max shuffle around and grab her bag before she muttered a ‘bye’ and left to go into school.

A hand rested on his shoulder and the familiar voice that he recognised belonging to Tommy H started to speak, “Y/N Eastwood... Shes changed a bit” he chuckled. Billy shrugged his hand off of him.

“Whatever” he muttered as he threw his cigarette on the floor and went into the school.

You walked towards your locker. Carol and Tina behind you. “Y/N Eastwood?!” They both continued to ask questions. You smirked.

“Yes it’s me, anything else you wanna know?” Carol and Tina were taken back by the attitude. They used to mock you occasionally for your kindness, but they weren’t ever cruel. Not as bad as they could’ve been.

Now, to you they were just like the girls back in New York, plastic. So fake it’s like looking at a Barbie Doll. But in your new experience you new how to deal with them, befriend but don’t trust. The only person you trusted in New York was Tom, all the other girls were snakes who only really used you for popularity.

Once you’d reached your locker you took your English book out of your bag and shoved it (the bag) in there. You held the book to your chest as Carol and Tina talked about how much they “missed you” and how all those silly words they said were such great “banter”. You smiled along with them, befriended.

The walk to your English class was fairly short, you really just wanted to escape the constant chattering in your ear about some sort of gossip.

Before you reached the door you heard someone shout your name. Tommy.

Carol ran up to Tommy and he threw his arm around her shoulders. “So when did little miss innocent become badass?” Tommy smirked as he referenced the new you.

“I got laid” you replied a smirk now on your lips.

Everyone laughed and Tommy’s mate, Dean, even patted your back. “She really is a changed woman now guys, never thought I’d hear her say such sinful words” he placed his arm around your shoulders. “How about we get out of here Y/N?” He leaned down to whisper into your ear. You grimaced and pushed his arm off of you.

“I’m down for skipping as a group, but unfortunately I’m taken, sorry boys” You sassed as Dean raised his eyebrows.

“Well he isn’t here now is he?” He tried. You rolled your eyes.

“Not happening, sorry... what was your name again” you knew his name obviously, but this was a new Y/N the girl who everyone wanted to be friends with.

Tommy let out a loud laugh at Deans frown. “Well then, I suggest we skip as group, after all Y/N is a new woman... she won’t be the little tattle tail she used to be” he took a dig at you.

Your old self would’ve been upset by a comment like that, maybe if your day wasn’t so good you’d have cried just a little bit. But you stood there, unphased, a smirk plastered on your face.

“Sure thing” You all left to go to someone’s car. He was called Billy or something, you really were forgetting some names.

You saw the car first. A nice blue camaro, beautiful car, your father used to have one similar, it was a red one, older but still cool. Then you saw the boy leaning against it. Cigarette inbetween his lips. You met eachothers gaze.

His blode curls framed his symmetrical face. He had slight stubble, which formed around his mouth, his lips were a plump pinky-red colour. But his eyes, they were gorgeous, ocean blue irises. He had a strong frame, he worked out. The glimpse you had at his chest showed that. His slightly unbuttoned shirt underneath the denim jacket. ‘Double denim’ you thought not many could pull that off, but he sure could.

He grinned at you. He’d been wanting to introduce himself since that moment he heard your heels.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, fuck. You calmed yourself down a bit. You had a boyfriend, he’s just one of those handsome guys you see and think about for a moment, before forgetting about them later, he obviously has a reputation.

His eyes traveled lower on your body, he studied you again. You had a pretty face, no, a beautiful face with a stunning figure to match. You weren’t too tall or too short, same height as Carol meaning he could easily Dom you. You were for sure a sub, no matter how badass you looked right now he was certain he could get you whimpering his name in the sheets.

Tina noticed Billy staring at you and nudged you. “Making eyes at Hargrove already, thought you had a boyfriend?” She whispered. You took a deep breath she was right, you did.

“I do, and this Billy kid has nothing on him” you smirked as you looked elsewhere. Tommy introduced you two to eachother.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl” he bought your hand to his lips and kissed it softly. You moved it out quickly.

“Umm... thanks” you looked at the floor for a second. Thinking about how you carry yourself next. You needed to show your confidence. “So is this what you guys call fun?” You perked up. Tommy shrugged.

“What else is there to do?” Tommy quipped. You smirked.

“Why don’t we go to the mall or something?”

“Don’t have one” You took that as your queue to let someone else suggest something.

You stood and listened to everyone’s conversations. Hawkins was so boring. Nothing interesting ever happened here. No wonder you moved in the first place. You wanted to go back to New York so bad, you thought about Tom.

Whilst thinking you didn’t notice Billy move closer to you. “So then Princess, where you from, recently I mean?” You met his eyes.

“New York, the bright lights and city is so much more exciting than this shithole” you sighed. Billy smirked. You were sassy.

“True... true, then why come back?” He raised an eyebrow, your eyes hadn’t left eachother the whole time.

“Dads work, something like that” he nods his head slightly.

“Tommy says you’re different from what you used to be, what changed then?”

“That’s for me to know and you to maybe find out” You sassed.

“Ahhh So she’s a mystery girl, I find ways of solving mysteries easy but I think I’m gonna need to find out a bit more about you, for further investigation... of course” he winked at you. You smirked. “Unfortunately, Mr Reputation... I have a boyfriend” why was it so hard to say that?? The bell ringed as if on queue signaling the end of break. You waved goodbye to the group as you, Carol and Tina walked away together to your next class. Billy was shocked to say the least.

“Cat got your tongue Hargrove?” Tommy chuckled. His boys all laughed along with him. Billy rolled his eyes and went to class.

Soon enough your day had come to an end and you managed to weave your way though students who were crowded around your car one brunette caught your eye in particular. ‘Shit’ it was Nancy, your former best friend. After Barb things weren’t the same, she would call you every night but once she told you the news you two grew distant and then the phone calls stopped and you lost contact. It was shame, but you didn’t need Nancy, you had Carol and Tina now. Something you thought you’d never think.

You backed out of the space and drove home. All that was on your mind now was calling Tom.

Once you’d got home you ran upstairs. You dumped your bag on your floor and called him.

After a few rings you heard his voice. “Y/N, I cant talk right no-“ you heard some shuffling and a girls voice.

“Who’s that?” Tom took a deep breath.

“I can’t do this anymore Y/N, this long distance thing, it’s over I’m sorry” he hung up before you could even say anything.

‘That asshole, it’s only been three fucking days’... you were gonna stay together. You felt the tears coming. You hadn’t cried since you’d last been in Hawkins. You couldn’t help but let them fall. You didn’t bother to wipe them away. You couldn’t move.

He was the only person you trusted in that whole damn place and ... now he’s... you breathed in. You tried to gain composure.

You sat on your bed, looking straight at the phone that was on your wall. You wanted to break it, you wanted to tear it up, you wanted to scream. You stayed silent.

You let the tears roll down your cheeks as you let out an ugly cry and delved your head into your pillows. Your mind was all over the place... You hadn’t cried since you’d last been in Hawkins...

The words “weak” and “dumb” played through your mind. People would allways call you this because you never stood up for yourself, you never said anything if someone was horrible and most importantly you let people tread on you. So you stopped crying whenever someone said something horrible, you said something back. You stopped crying fullstop.

You brushed the tears from your face and went to the mirror in your room. ‘You can do this Y/N’ you thought. You don’t need him. All he wants is the next piece of ass out there. Like you care, a lie. You didn’t even want him anyway, another lie.

You were done with feelings, that was a fairly convincing thought but still a lie. All you needed was to calm the fuck down, shove a smile on your face and walk through those doors of Hawkins High tomorrow and act as though you couldn’t give a single shit, that’s a good plan.

You could get anyone. You were Y/N Eastwood. The new Y/N Eastwood. Who got all the boys attention, you didn’t need Toms special treatment. ‘Fuck him’ you thought. You’re over him anyway, another lie.

You took a deep breath and grabbed a cigarette from your bag. You lit it and inhaled the smoke. Your nerves calming. You hated smoking, you hated it with a passion, it smelled horrible and felt horrible too, but at the same time something about it calmed you.

All you need is a plan for when you get out of here, nothing wrong with some minor adjustments.

#billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove smut

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agoddamn · 5 years ago

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Just out of curiosity, let’s go through some of these personal skills and how they were localized. Cut because it got long...

不思議な魅力 / Supportive This does actually describe what the ability does, but it’s dry, which is an especially unfortunate choice for the main character. I’d go with Mysterious Charisma or something along those lines. Mystic Charm? Hell, if character length is a problem even just Charismatic has a more special feeling to it than Supportive, which is a quality you look for in a bra moreso than a main character.

ダーティファイト / Highwayman This is literally just “Dirty Fight[ing]” in katakana, so it’s not like it was confusing. I have no idea why they changed it, given that dirty fighting cleverly both describes the ability itself (it only activates when the enemy can’t attack back) and Ashura’s struggle as a character (he hates himself for being an honorless thug) so...what was gained from changing it to Highwayman, which is just a synonym for his base class?

農地の主 / Forager Descriptive, which is good! My only complaint is that the original title, Farmland Master, implies a lot of competence on her part that Forager doesn’t capture. Nature Master? Living off the Land, if we get creative?

おっちょこちょい / Mischievous Completely different term. The Japanese is Scatterbrain. The deeply confusing thing is that this completely changes the nature of her ability, instead implying that she strips people on purpose. I don’t get...why they did this...

お転婆 / Fearsome Blow Completely different term! The Japanese is Tomboy. I guess we’re not allowed to say she’s a tomboy in America. The Japanese word for tomboy supposedly comes from the Dutch ontembaar, which means spirited/indomitable/untameable. Which actually says a lot about the Japanese perception of the term “tomboy”--it’s not “boyish girl” in the sense that we imagine boyish girls, IE short-haired and pink-hating and sports-loving, but “boyish” in the sense of not being quiet and submissive. Personality over appearance. Anyway, in light of that I can understand not using the literal word tomboy in English but Fearsome Blow is just dry. Doesn’t reflect on her personality at all. Even Ferocious Blow would be better.

爆炎使い / Pyrotechnics What always confused me here is that pyrotechnics almost always refers to decorative explosions. You use pyrotechnics to describe tricks or flashy shows, not actual bombs designed to kill people, which is what Saizou is doing. It’s like saying a flamethrower and a flashlight are interchangeable because they both involve light that you point places. I don’t think 爆炎使い is an existing term; the only results on Google for it are Saizou and a Yu-Gi-Oh card. Literally, it’s something like Explosive Flame Messenger/Carrier. Probably a double meaning on Saizou carrying explosive bombs and being an explosive bomb. Hilariously, FEH completely gave up trying to translate this term (which is also his character title in that game) and just rendered it as Angry Ninja. I’d just translate it as Incendiary, trying to keep the double meaning intact.

小さな声援 / Quiet Strength This one is accurate to Sakura’s personality--which is good--but doesn’t describe the effect and misses out on the fact that all three (!) Hoshido princesses have linked personal skills. Aqua’s is Healing Voice, Hinoka’s is Rallying Cry (localization was actually dead on here), and Sakura’s is Little Cheer/Soft Cheer. They’re all voice-related. Localization lost this theme by changing Aqua’s to Healing Descant (a type of melody) and Sakura’s to Quiet Strength. At the very least, Sakura and Hinoka have reciprocal effects so the names really ought to match. They actually did this excellently with the Nohr sisters (Lily’s Poise/Rose’s Thorn) so it’s a shame the Hoshido sisters lost out.

ぼんやり / Optimist Another totally different term. The Japanese is Absent-minded/Airhead. Like, did they feel bad about calling Setsuna dumb? But still left all her supports about how dumb she is? Even more confusingly, Kisaragi’s personal skill is named almost identically. Nobody would do that on purpose. I admit that this one is tricky to name--neither Airhead nor Optimist suggest getting extra-effective healing, but at least Airhead describes her personality. She’s more implacable than optimistic. I’d try to get creative with this one and go with something like Help From My Friends if space allowed, or just fall back to Airhead/Head in the Clouds if airhead sounds too mean.

悪あがき / Triple Threat Once more, different term. The Japanese is something like wasted effort/struggling in vain. I think the implication is that you’re wasting your energy trying to melee Hinata? This is definitely a weird one. Honestly dunno that I’d have a better suggestion; Triple Threat at least gets across that it procs against three weapon types. Last Stand, perhaps.

軍略伝授 / Perspicacious This is another one of those where the game suddenly whips out obscure vocabulary for no apparent reason. When’s the last time you heard someone use perspicacious outside of an English test? The Japanese is Strategy Instructor (or something like “offering strategic advice”), which is why it buffs other units’ hit rate. I can kinda see the connection to being perceptive, but perspicacious, for all its syllables, fails to describe that Yukimura is instructing other people. Strategize would have done the job perfectly well.

勝利への執念 / In Extremis The Japanese is something like “victory through persistence”. This is a case where I actually like how it communicates the ability--it activates under extreme circumstances, when she’s on the edge--but I question the terminology. Latin is a pretty specific choice in language. What about the soft butch French rebel artist says “yeah, Latin is the right choice here”?

風の血 / Wind Disciple Another case of losing the theme. Fuuga, Flora, and Rinka, as the scions of their elemental tribes, all have abilities that go [element] Blood, implying they’re the distant descendants of their founding dragons. They got it with Rinka and Flora, but for some reason fucked up Fuuga.

美しき王 / Peacebringer Japanese is Beautiful King, hahaha. I actually like that the English gets the meaning of the ability--and his role in the story--across, but the Japanese implication that Izana is so beautiful that everyone around him forgets how to fight is really goddamn funny.

怪力 / Puissance The one I’ve been complaining about the most! Why French? Why this word? The Japanese is a pretty simple “super strength”. I totally understand the urge to jazz it up, but this just seems like the worst way to do it. It’s not an easily recognizable term and the diction doesn’t match her character at all, localized OR original. I like the idea of rendering it as Atlas to emphasize her role as Elise’s pillar plus a sly reference to the Charles Atlas strongman stuff, but you could go a million different ways here. Just...not puissance.

奇襲任務 / Opportunist Man, I’m so used to Ambush Duty that I had to look up who Opportunist was actually attached to...which I think says a lot about its success as a character descriptor. Opportunist technically jives with the ‘surprise attack’ part of the Japanese, but not remotely Belka’s personality. The ‘duty’ bit is important here because that’s Belka’s role, she does what she’s told. She’s mechanical. Camilla even likens her to a broken doll. Opportunist generally implies more agency, someone actively taking chances.

青の踊り / Fancy Footwork Azure Dance. I guess Indigo Dance would flow better with Awakening’s localization. I like the dance nod but it’s a shame to miss out on the color wink.

冷血 / Pragmatic Cold-blooded. In this case I understand why it was changed--”cold-blooded” is too close to Flora’s “Ice Blood” (though that didn’t stop them giving Setsuna and Kisaragi literally the same ability?)--and the meaning is mostly intact (pragmatic can just mean simple and efficient, but cold-blooded means cruel). Leon has a couple of other ice-themed symbols in the game, though--his personal weapon, Leon’s Icy Blade, and general references to being cold and heartless. It’s also an ironic contrast to his tome, a tree of life. Cold-blooded fit really well with all that and Pragmatic doesn’t.

ひろい食い / Goody Basket sdfkfghdf the Japanese for this one is like...indiscriminate appetite/open-minded eater/someone who eats stuff they picked up on the floor. Which is why she’s regaining HP, Velour’s just eating random shit she finds. Goody Basket doesn’t remotely capture how funny this is. I’d have called it Five-Second Rule.

乙女��の躍動 / Bibliophile Bibliophile does hint at the effect, but...just looking at a list I honestly thought this was Eponine’s. She’s the one explicitly described as the story-lover. The Japanese is something like Liveliness of a Maiden’s Heart--so it’s Ophelia’s own earnest, girly version of Odin’s Aching Blood. It’s admittedly hard not to have Something Blood on a female character sound kind of lewd or a euphemism for masturbation. What about Pounding Heart?

臆病 / Guarded Bravery Just the opposite meaning here, the Japanese is Timid. Were they afraid of making him look bad?

だまし討ち / Fierce Counter Foul Play! The one that started all this. To copy-paste, the implication is that either male enemies underestimate Foleo’s ferocity because of his feminine appearance or that Foleo is the type of guy who has no compunctions about kicking another guy in the balls (he IS his father’s son), take your pick. Fierce Counter is dry and doesn’t indicate the proc (male enemies) at all.

#fire emblem fates #support comparisons #bootsmeta #if you click read more you consent to a nitpicking-level discussion but it be like that with writing

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sonderrow-moved · 5 years ago

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CONFESSION OF JUST ONE MAN. 07/??.

There was a small *schlick*. An incomparable sound which could only be made when a good, kind of heavy blade met a porous, thick fabric, breaking it yet still showing some resistance by how healthily dense it was. It was the part which made this sound a bit of a teeth gritter. The other, smoother part was because of the liquid which broke out under every layer of meat. You are so used to see a human body in science classes, it is a bit unreal, but also familiar when you open one up in real life.

It wasn’t the first time I opened one, I did it a lot. At times. Mind you I am not one of those sickos who gets too much into their own fantasy, have some sick compulsion. My line of cleaning showed me enough red flags so I could avoid my own.

She was one woman, just like all the other ones I hated. There is this whole shenanigan about men having mommy issues, I am not arrogant enough to think I am any different. Whatever the source, I just enjoyed cutting women. Hypocritical ones, ones who had an attitude. I didn’t like to touch kind ones, brave ones. I liked to touch those who were constantly rude for no reasons, bitches who would talk behind people’s back, ignorant ones who were not smart enough to see the grand scheme of things, stupid whores who were just good at spreading their legs and bearing children as garbage as them.

I like silence, I learned that soon enough. And since this is my comfort zone, I sometimes take the luxury to cut the vocal cords before or paralyze them like in this case, or I can always wear a very powerful noise cancelling headset. When I feel like a fighter, I do it with them bound by the extremities, and feel every twist of their body to escape. When I feel lazy, I just paralyze them and do as I please, like living, breathing doll. This is the only release all the hate inside me can afford, and nobody, nothing can waste it.

Listening to her breathy whisper of pain is like music to my ears, a sound I allow while I finish opening up her clothes. It feels more personal, when people are clothed. Clothes are part of your personality, of their life, if you remove them, they just look like nameless animals. This is not what I want. I like to feel the weight of their existence, and how I can tear it apart. The best part is when their attitude give in. For the strongest warriors, it is the split second when their wall break because of one sharp pain, and then they come back to having this sort of mental wrestling with me. It is only one-sided though; their eyes widening as I cut is enough for me to know that I won.

I like to lacerate the torso first, open it up and play with the wound as I cut deeper, like eating some steak tartare. I wear gloves to take care of my hands, but I still wear my everyday clothes; like I said, it feels more personal. When maybe it is not; in reality, she doesn’t know me, and I don’t know her. She is (maybe) more than the whore she was being so nasty to her coworkers and I am (I know it) more than a man holding a scalpel and having fun like a child with some food. I dig my nail through my gloves inside her wounds, a glop kind of sound echoing through the cold, dark room as her flesh tear, compared to how it was sliced so neatly earlier. I can make up the bits of meat stretching, like a bit of chewed gum, I should find a better comparison. And before I know it, by my curiosity and thoughts of finding a good food metaphor to this, I didn’t realize how wide I just made this one. Her body trembling gave it away and I let it be; the paralysis must be wearing off, but when it does entirely, she’d be unable to fight anyway.

Sex is always a subject which fascinated me. How desire makes us civilized beings back again to our bestial roots, and how with our wide intellect, we just made more sordid ways to satisfy our lowly lust. I don’t know where this comes from for me. Maybe I have my own inclinations and an underlying lust under my balls who just need a once per two months of emptying. Maybe it just comes in my tendency to observe thoroughly. Or maybe it is because my big sister raped me when I was a child. Who knows, whatever source doesn’t change the outcome, like I say.

Her body is one society would consider very nice, although it is not personally my type. Her stomach is flat. She is slender, with a bit of an hourglass shape. She has no big curve, her legs are slender and her breasts are just disappointingly pointy. Seeing how disgusting the masses are to adore such a weak appearance, I have no regrets when I cut off one of her nipple, almost deaf to her gagging. I dump more ice cold water on her face to keep her awake. It feels satisfying, like I am being efficient at what I do. It is the same feeling of a job well done. The second one, I tear off. And I roll them under by fingers as she bleeds out, feeling their unique texture, it is like they just became a stress ball in the palm of my hand. I squish them, trying to make them flat like pancakes. Obviously it doesn’t work. Still entertaining to do. Liberating. To think of something and act upon it. I sew the holes. And the little balls of threads give me some cathartic, trypophobia kind of feeling. A come back with my sterilized needle again and again. Too much. Too many times. Like I’m trying to replace her breasts, which are supposed to be attractive, with some sort of monstrous, obsidian black and spiky extremities.

I go upwards and meet her eyes. She hates me, so, so much. Sometimes, their eyes have such a bullying feeling to them I feel a bit of fear, like it digs right into my self-esteem, maybe I am masochistic to let those linger through me and not hide their sockets after such encounters. My knife goes to the side of her mouth, slicing it so her cheeks open, and I can see her whole, perfect and crimson with blood denture. I find it so much more appealing than her skin with way too much foundations. Even all the rubbing I did didn’t take off her makeup; it just make women less beautiful I say. Of bad taste those bold colours were. I thought her eyelashes were fake, turned out when I plucked them they were real. Though the crayon to the eyebrows was so thick, tearing off all the hair didn’t get the lines off.

But then I waited too much. Too much preparation, when in the thick of it I cannot wait anymore. Murderers can take their sweet time of torture, but there is so much I can do; I just want to get what I was looking for. And it is to undo her to her deepest parts, have them rupture for me and against her will.

The tip of my blade is tickling her clitoris, and as she moves her legs, her bottom clothes just slide on the floor, like a woman being prepared to be made love to. She screams, and I smile without realizing actually. It is only the tip, which I roll around, the cold steel molesting her most sensitive spot. Our face grow closer, and she is too paralyzed, already thinking about the pain to even think about spitting in my face. But I maintain the eye contact, so strongly she cannot look elsewhere but at me.

Like I was giving a good, quick and rough fisting, my arm gives a sharp hit, only my hand is holding a scalpel, and I tug it deep inside her damn vagina, until you almost cannot see the hilt, in one damn go, without even getting my hand dirty by touching her. I let go as she spasms on the table. I dump more ice water on her before she passes out. Her intimate parts twitch, like she was just pleasured. And I go grab another scalpel. I make a move I could even call cool, and a slice in the air as if I was fighting, back and forth, precise and strong. And I watch so closely as blood spurts from her mutilated, shaved crotch, and her clitoris just slices open, too much of a mess for me to make up if I can see some sort of nerves, or anything more interesting than that little clump of skin. I shove two tips of index fingers in, spreading it like a doctor checking his patient’s genital health. And then I push directly inside the wounded button, like a lover who wants to feel the very nerve of his woman. I am satisfied with the sensation I find, but disappointed at the spectacle. I shake my hands, remove the gloves, and put a new pair on, just after stabbing that lovebud, deep enough so my scalpel stays up; I need to keep my tool readily available. Soon enough, the first blade is moving upwards, slicing everything open while my mind probably hallucinates juices flowing all over the place; it is impossible there was this much, yet this how I remember and will remember. And I prefer it like this. It makes a very fond memory.

That is what I think about most. Not their face, their name. I make this pitiful attempt to get close to them, because I am sure it will work every single time. But what I only remember is how deformed they were, how sick they make me, how angry I feel when I think about how this body can be liked by people.

I do everything so clean, although it is a body being open. And soon enough does she loses enough blood to die. I still have my fun exploring some parts when I am satisfied martyrizing her womb and co. The organs and stuff. This type of things everyone has heard or seen in any gory story, why would I bother? It wouldn’t faze anybody, and it didn’t faze me. Gave me a kind feeling, but nothing so notable as what I play in my head. Whatever if one day I stop doing it, I did it at least once. Who else can say the same? I got the best. Even after her death, my hands keep digging inside her thighs, and every piece of torture I realize source by starting from there. It makes something of some morbid star, dark and bloody. A beautiful masterpiece. Maybe I should refine my aesthetic, make more pleasing pictures for me to wonder about in my spare time. My mind even became amused if I could maybe, find a baby in there, and squash it like a crunchy cricket inside a cooked egg. Yet I found nothing. Too bad women too far in pregnancy do not interest me.

And when the full silence finally falls, I am alone. Because there were two before, and now I am on my own, with an object beside me. And since I am so cozy in, I don’t mind getting a little bit crazy. I like to cut her in pieces, because she’d be too heavy. I don’t care what I use, though I like the dirty and messy gashes of flesh rusty saws make, like you cannot tell if it was cut or tore. And the gore looks like it just exploded on its own, the unclean extremities making some sort of bouquet if I may say so myself. I like to take those parts, and smash them as hard as I can against the wall. I am never satisfied, even as they open up under me and blood stains bits of my cheeks. I don’t care about my appearance anymore, and there is only this loud THUD repeating over and over again, quicker and quicker. I can grab her severed head, smash her face against the concrete wall, and drag it as it leaves a gruesome trace, painting the material like I’m the new Francis Bacon.

I cannot see my face when I do that. It feels great. Violence. It is so stupid, stereotypically male… and I just let myself fall to it like an ignoramus. For one moment. At times, I will stop, my mind telling me it is enough. I’d look at the gash of her flesh, her limp body all mushed by my whole dominant strength beating her, playing around like a kid with too much anger playing baseball… and then I start again. Because it is not enough. I take momentary breaks when my muscles strain, and then I do it again. I cannot see her. I cannot take the thought that she still looks like herself when I stop. I want the magic to happen, to have all of this shit unrecognizable. I want the overwhelming feeling of a job well done. And just like how I plunged in her fuck, I’d satisfy my satiety until I see how she looks like if I were to take out all my energy… and even more, if the result doesn’t look good.

And I never end up satisfied. Her broken skull still looks like a skull. The finger that flew out of the room still look like a finger. And nothing can help me. Nothing can satisfy me. Those women have no souls, they cannot fill anything except give me the climax my anger needs. In the end, besides that mush of meat, I can perfectly make up her and it doesn’t go away. Yet I feel just as alone, with nothing besides me. A weakness this curse of being a human able of thoughts and feelings gave me. I won’t be one of those jackasses who says they are of marble. Self control and composure don’t mean you do not have emotions, and mine bangs my organs every living moment. I remove my gloves and my fingers trace on all that shit on the wall. So roughly I actually hurt myself and opens up my skin. It burns, like I just fell on concrete and was grated like some piece of cheese.

I was born like this. I don’t care about the how or why. Might as well just go with it. I don’t care.

… I have another, if you want.

#. Archer's confession ( drabble )#. Kessler was ( past ic )#. There's a human behind Archer... maybe ( headcanon )

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yodawgiherd · 6 years ago

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Wind's howling

Rating: T

>>>Read on AO3<<<

“No….no, I’m still not feeling it. Take it off. “

“You can’t be serious. “

“Oh but I very much am. “

The make-up lady was patient, very patient in fact, but even she had limits. With an expression of total anguish, she turned towards the bald photographer.

“Dot. For god’s sake, we’ve been sitting here for the last hour trying different things, and you are still not satisfied. What the hell do you want? “

“I… don’t know! But not this, that’s for sure. “, he gave the woman a very friendly smile. “I’m sorry, I really am, but I can’t work unless It’s perfect. “

She groaned, turning towards Mikasa who was perched on the stool and started dabbing her face with a wet cotton pad, removing the make-up she placed there a mere minutes ago. Behind her, Pixis started pacing around the room, muttering to himself.

“I’m sorry I’m taking so much of your time. “, Mikasa whispered, feeling the woman’s pain.

“Oh don’t be. “, she smiled at her, “You are an amazing model dear, not a word of protest or discomfort, I wish I could work with you every day. Dot….Dot is always like this. “, with a practiced motion, she wiped the eyeliner away with one sweep, “This is my job after all. “

“Mikasa, tell me, when you train, you don’t wear anything right? “, that was Pixis asking, coming close after he finished his round around the studio.

“W-What? Of course I’m wearing clothes! “

“Oh, no, not like that. “, he grinned when he saw her blush furiously, “I mean make-up. You don’t have any when you work out right? “

“Well, of course not. Why would I? “

He snapped his fingers.

“That’s it. We are going to make the shoot without any make-up. “

The make-up artist was just about done.

“Pixis…“

“No, no, it makes perfect sense! This is a gym clothes presentation, and I aim to make it as realistic as possible! “

Model with a naked face. You know what? Fine. The girl had a really pretty complexion anyway, nicely pale skin which complimented her black hair. The artist gave up. With a last shrug, she carefully wiped everything from Mikasa’s face, leaving it completely bare, before standing up and going to sit by the door with an expression of total apathy. The model-in-making straightened herself, looking around the room. It was arranged to look a little bit like the gym, with Dot having a few men drag in actual machines. There was a punching bag, bench-press, and a few more, but somehow, she didn’t feel right at home. Maybe because of the lights everywhere and the agitated photographer running around.

“How do you want me? “, she asked, kinda eager to be done with this.

Upon hearing the slight hitch in her voice, he stopped and walked over to her, putting a supportive hand on her shoulder.

“You are still nervous, aren’t you? “

“Yes…“

“Look, Mikasa, I know that’s it’s rather cliché to say, but just be yourself. “

“But I just…“, she hugged herself, the earlier boldness she felt completely gone by now, “I don’t feel like a model. “

“Don’t feel like a model? “, he repeated after her, shaking his head, “And how is a model supposed to look like? You have a body to die for, my dear, and it’s clear to see that this, “, he gestured around himself, pointing at the gym machines, “is what you are good at, it’s something you understand. So use it. The muscles you have, don’t hide them, show them! Be proud of your work! Look, If I wanted a generic blond woman, I could pick one out of the hundreds that apply here. But those, they wouldn’t fit like you do, you are a natural for this kind of photoshoot. So please, as I said, just act like you normally do when you work out, and ill snap a few photos. That’s it. “

Following his advice, Mikasa took a deep breath and walked over to the punching bag, hitting it a few times experimentally. The clothes she had on now were similar to her normal gym wear, tight cropped top and shorts, not hindering her movements at all. And as she gave in to the routine, everything, the lights, Pixis, all of the studio simply faded into the background. Why did it matter where she was? Here, there’s a bag, punch it. Mikasa was just getting warmed up when a hand fell on her shoulder, and after she turned she could see that it was the photographer, eyes shining.

“That was amazing! The expression of perfect focus! The grace! The strength! “

“Ehm… Why did you stop me then? “

“Well, “¸ he pointed at her chest, “we need you to change clothes, I got this set covered. “

This went on for some time, with Mikasa being left to her own devices, Dot only chiming in when he needed her to dress in something different. It was…relaxing after all. There really was no pressure from anyone, just a few quick easy requests from time to time, that was it. And Mikasa, despite her expectations, found herself enjoying this. When Pixis put down the camera, calling it a day she wasn’t even winded, but looking outside she could see that the sky darkened significantly. And a new thought struck her.

Where the hell was Levi?

“It was…uhm…nice working with you…Petra. “

“Same. Be seeing you. “

And with that Petra, who he hasn’t seen since college, turned her back and left. Once he was alone, he leaned back against a wall, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. Fuck, this so was awkward. Levi really wished that he could have a cigarette right now, but there was some bullshit rule about no smoking inside and shit, so he ran a palm over his face instead. When she came through the door for the first time, they both froze. It was really her. He knew Petra back in college, she was his…friend? Sometimes he liked to think that they were about to be more. But then the stuff with Mikasa happened, Levi had to drop out, and he hasn’t seen her since. He couldn’t say anything, he just stared at her, unable to conjure any two words together. In the end, it was her who managed to move first, coming close with an outstretched hand.

“Hello, my name is Petra Ral, I’ll be your photographer today. Can we start? “

Taken back, he shook her hand, thoughts racking in his brain. Did she forget him? But if she did, why did she freeze when she came in? It made no sense. But Petra was already setting up her machine, completely ignoring him. For some reason, she just acted like she didn’t know him, and he, having no idea what to do, went along with it. She took the photos with an efficiency of a professional, talking to her model only when she had to, the camera in her hand snapping away. Levi followed every instruction she gave him as quickly as he could, and they proceeded swiftly, until she straightened and announced that they are done. And left, without another word. Fuck. To add insult to injury, he could see Mikasa approaching with some old man in tow, apparently deep in a conversation.

“…oh don’t be so modest, your ass is going to make that brand of yoga pants a best seller. And we haven’t even done the bikini yet! That reminds me, is there something else we could use? “, he was just asking.

“Well, I ride a bike…“

“Amazing! We could definitely use a new face for biker stuff, and you would look gorgeous in leather! I’ll put that on a table for Kiyomi. How about….“

But Levi just wanted to be fucking gone, the unexpected meeting turning his world upside down.

“Hey brat, you done? Can we go? “, he stepped in, rather rudely interrupting Pixis.

“Yea… Sure, ehm…“, she turned back towards Dot, “Thanks for everything, today was a lot of fun. “

Ignoring her rude midget of a brother, he smiled at her.

“Of course, anytime. I’ll be in touch! “

With that, they parted, with him going back to the studio while Mikasa came to stand next to Levi.

“What’s eating you? “, she asked, frowning.

“Nothing. Let’s just fucking bail. “, he walked away at a brisk pace, heading towards the exit. They couldn’t get out of this fucking building fast enough.

“Just act normal, please. “

“Sure, let us all forget that she broke your heart and…“

“She didn’t break anything, okay? We just ended it, it happens. “

Sasha groaned, frowning at Armin who was so pale that she wondered if there is any blood left in his face.

“I’m still going to spit in her drink though. “

“Please don’t. “

“I just don’t understand! Why would you invite her here? “

“I just…“, honestly speaking, Armin had no idea what made him call Annie and ask her if she would come to the bar. Desperation? Alcohol? Probably both. “She said that we can still be friends so…. Please? For me? “

“Fine! But you owe us. “

“Thanks Sasha, you are a doll. “, he leaned down, wrapping her in an awkward hug, but that didn’t stop her from frowning. Honestly speaking, she was very, very far from forgiving Annie, but if Armin begged them to try and do their best to act friendly towards her…. Damnit, she liked the guy too much.

It didn’t take Annie long to arrive, fidgeting with her buttons on the way in, clearly also not very comfortable. But well, promise is a promise. So Sasha wheeled herself over to her, pushing her dislike down and chattering away. With the help of drinks and the fact that she came here to work, not just stand around, the awkwardness slowly melted. It wasn’t gone, but it grew a tiny bit smaller, as everyone just sort of accepted her being there. It was surely handy that Annie was rather knowledgeable about this kind of work, filling in for Carla who had some charity stuff to do today and couldn’t be at the bar. With Eren at work and Mikasa and Levi doing god knows what for the fashion mogul, it left just Connie, Sasha, Jean, Armin and now Annie to move the work forward, even by a tiny bit.

With the day progressing, Jean was the first one to leave, saying that he has some errands to run, but both Armin and Annie continued until the sky went dark and evening came. Seeing them together, watching the teamwork they had, Sasha wondered what the hell happened between them that made them end their relationship. They just looked so good, managing to relax in each other’s presence even with the elephant in the room, making Sasha question if they truly moved past, or if they were only very good at pretending.

“I appreciate all that you did, but we are about to close. So unless you wanna sleep here, you should head out. “, she said, wheeling herself over to the pair.

“Oh, right. Erm…“, Armin scratched the back of his head while Annie played with the hammer in her lap, “We’ll be right out. “

Once outside the bar however, Armin realized that he didn’t want to part himself from Annie, not yet. Her presence just warmed him, inside out, something no one else managed to do.

“Hey, want me to show you something? “, he asked, doing his best to smile.

She nodded. And his heart fluttered.

It took them about half an hour before they reached their destination, a rooftop of one of the buildings around.

“Wow, the view is….breathtaking….“¸ she said, looking over the darkened city, with stars shining over their heads.

“We used to come here with Eren, back when we wanted a break from the world. It’s pretty relaxing wouldn’t you say? “

“Yeah….“, she leaned on the railing, and after gathering his courage, Armin followed, coming to stand next to her. Together they enjoyed the way the city was slowly lighting up with the thousands of little artificial suns. But then, then Armin looked left, and she looked right, and they saw something shining even brighter than all of those combined. When they kissed, everything, all the pain and suffering he went through was nothing compared to this feeling, because now, he felt that he matters again, that the future is bright and….

Something hard pushed against his chest. Armin staggered and fell backwards, landing on the hard ground and looking up at Annie, who was covering her mouth with one hand while staring angrily at him.

“W-What’s wrong? Annie? What…“

“Shut the fuck up. “

He had no idea what to say. Just a second ago, she was kissing him back as much as he was, and now there were tears of anger in the corners of her eyes, which she promptly blinked away. She was hurting, he could tell, he had to help her, do something…

“Annie…“

“I said, shut. The fuck. Up. “

She took a deep breath.

“I thought I can do this, but I can’t. We…can’t be friends, you understand? Armin, I wasted enough of my time on you, I don’t want to see you ever again. Don’t write. Don’t call. Don’t ever contact me again. We are done. “

Shaking her head, she took a few steps backwards before turning and running down the steps, disappearing from his view.

“Your phone is ringing brat. “

“I know. “, Mikasa glared at Levi for a second before picking up, not even looking who the caller was. “Can I help you? “

“Mikasa….Hey….“

She frowned. It was Armin, but he sounded so….down? “

“Hey Ar, what’s up? “

“Can we, uhm, talk? In person? “

“Sure thing, where you at? “

She waved at Levi who drove past her and into the city, leaving her alone.

“Do you remember the old roof where me and Eren used to come. We took you too after you guys started dating. “

“Sure, I’ll be there soon. “

Mikasa didn’t really question why he was up there. Armin was a free soul, perhaps he just needed a breath of fresh air. Taking a moment to make sure the helmet was secure on her head, Mikasa started up the engine and navigated the motorbike on the road and towards the place where her friend was. But when she parked and walked up the familiar steps, her heart jumped into her throat.

“Armin! Why are you… Armin why are you standing there? “

He turned back from the edge, behind the railing, where he was looking down into the street below, and smiled weakly.

“Hey Mikasa. You came. “

“Of course I did. Why don’t you come here so we can talk? “

But when she took a step forward he took one backwards, shaking his head. He was literally one more step away from the fall.

“No, no talking, not anymore. “

Seeing him balance on the rim of the roof, she stopped, eyes wide. What was he doing?

“Armin, please, step away from the edge. You don’t want to fall, do you? “

He barked out a laugh.

“What if I do? “

“Don’t talk like that. Please, just tell me, what’s happening? “

“It’s just… I realized something. “, he turned away from her back towards the city, watching the lights. “I’m a leech. “

“What? “

“A parasite. I’m not even a human being. Back when I was kid, I was leeching on Eren, but then he found you, and suddenly I had no host, no one to sap life from. “

“Nonsense, you are Eren’s friend not some parasite. “

“Oh please, who would want to be my friend? I’m nothing. “

“That’s not true. “

“Isn’t it? “, he barked out a laugh, “ You are an amazing fighter, now even a model, Eren is a prodigy surgeon. What am I then? Writer? We both know the best use for anything I write would be if people used the paper to wipe their asses. Oh, you are biased, because you know me, but we both can agree that its crap. And other than that, what do I have? Nothing. “

“What about the bar? The work you do here? “

“Sasha took me on only because she felt sorry for me, Connie was more than enough for her. “, he shook his head, “I’m nothing. I do nothing, just steal time from other people. I’m trash. “

Mikasa was slowly but surely uncovering the truth. There was only one person who could get Armin, who was otherwise always so happy and full of life, so down.

“This is about Annie, isn’t it? “

“No, this is about me. I can’t blame her that she realized the truth sooner than I did and understood that spending time with me is a waste. You should do the same. “

Mikasa could feel her fists balling. She had no idea what that bitch did, but this was way too far. Way too fucking far.

“Armin listen to me, you are a great guy and an amazing friend, to me, to Eren, to Connie and Sasha, hell, even my brother likes you. Uncountable times you managed to cheer us up when we felt down, helped us in need, or just was there for us when we needed someone to talk to. And we both know you are a great writer, so cut that crap. Please, don’t let Annie do this to you, come here, and let’s talk. “

The wind was howling around them.

“Looks like rain. “, he said, not looking at her, still watching the city.

Armin took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Mikasa. “

And he stepped forward.

#eremika #fanfic #snk

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zeronexfenris · 6 years ago

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The start of a New Day

((Warning little bit of violence and stuff!))

((Also - Music added at the bottom. Please clicky and play the music while reading for ~Immersion~))

Chapter One: Woman in the Fog.

Dense fog layered the cemetery of Raven Hill, wandering undead lingered, animals expelling their normal tunes or noises. Given essence to the night, but also danger that may be unseen. Fog gave moisture to the air, making scent or usage of other senses harsher. Cemetery was darker than usual, the tall plus wide trees shadowing the forest of Duskwood in a blanket, shrouding any daylight that desired to break through. Many mixtures of smells littered this area, rotting of flesh, decaying animal corpses, even dead adventures or civilians who traversed through these parts unarmed, or unskilled. Fire, from a camp nearby was the only dim source of light, ambience of cooking also lingered in the air. A spell of its own to those hungry, or traveling. A male with broad shoulders, tall in nature, standing Six Foot Seven with a muscular build., wearing black, gold, and blue armor stood near a tomb, perhaps waiting for a friend? Associates? Flock themselves? Who knew, but only this geared man named Zeronex Fenris.

Hours had passed, eyes scanning the location around him or what he could see due to the fog’s vision imparities which gave issues to his ability in tracking scents as well. “How much longer?” Inquired Zero, being restless and easy. Hands clasped behind his back but loose enough incase issues arose, or an attack happened. “What is even the point?’ Words expelling softly to himself, Zero looked up in time to see a bear lazily walking by, stopping to gander upon the view. Head moving back down, the bear felt no sense of threat from Zero, only continuing on with it’s own life. “The Fuck, least the bear showed some sign of acknowledgement to me, I’m not going to wait here any longer if this keeps up.” Frustrated, becoming uneasy even further, Zero paced around the small safe area next to a tomb, head shaking, mumbling, and for what? What is the god dam point? These thoughts only continued to harbor and grow within his mind. Stopping, an eerie sound came from within the fog. Greatsword now drawn, head on a swivel, the man looked around, saying nothing, but on guard. The hell is that? Zero asked silently as the sound was heard once more. Bells!? Who the Fuck, wears bells for one? And Two, if you’re sneaking around. That is a stupid ass idea. Shaking his head, focus returned, now looking in the direction of said sound.

Cling, ding, ding, ding, these bells sounded off as the approach was apparent to Zero. They were heading his direction. “Who is there!?” He called out, only hoping it was an ally, or associate, and nothing more. “I hear you!” The male called out, hands upon the sword tightening before a shadowed figure appeared, stepping into sight. “You!?” The male inquired, uneasy as to the reason the other was here. “What are you here for? How did you find me?” Further questions riddled out, Zero taking a defensive posture. A Female voice spoke. “It is time, Zeronex.” his eyes narrowed. “Time for what exactly, Lyia?” Both the female’s weapons were drawn, Amber eyes hidden behind a red and silver cowl, Dahlyia wore little armor, skin tight leathers covering the chest, and upper part of her body, while what looked like exotic black underwear wrapped around the lower half. Leather thigh highs, with red and green gloves fitted those hands. Spiked, red and black shoulder armor, black boots and a fur red cloak draped down the back. Two revolvers holstered upon the thighs, One, across her chest for three in total. “For your capture my dear.” Words coming out cold, harsh, but true. “They desire you now.” Spoke Lyia. “It is my job, to retrieve you. I tracked you through scent. Has hard as it was, a lot of focus went into doing such.” head shook, Red hair being pushed into the cowl. “Shall we begin?”

Drawing both revolvers, several shots were fired at Zeronex, numerous aiming for the shoulders and thighs of the male. Looking impede movements, slow him down. She was a ranged fighter, but also had two Rapiers for close combat, meaning, she was efficient with both fighting styles. Zeronex rose his weapon, Cling, ding. Couple of rounds bouncing off the weapon, plus his shoulder, though one found a weak point, imbedding into the right thigh. “GAH!” Shouted the male in response to the pain, body protesting, red liquid dripped from the wound. Charging, Zero swiped first vertically, trying to avoid damage to her mid section since he knew the woman was pregnant. No desire in harming the child. Lyia jumped back, firing another couple of rounds, many, still bouncing off the chest plate, or shoulders but once more. A single round penetrated the man’s stomach. “FUCK! Why Lyia!?” No response came from the woman. “What the hell!?” he’d shout, anger driving the man. He realized it was put her down, or he was going down.

Axe slammed into the ground, just missing Lyia as she grunted and gasped, back peddling quickly, she had no time to reposition. Zeronex came in once more, taking this opportunity. Disarm her, Just disarm her, nothing more. If I can do that, freedom is mine. The man thought, swinging that Greataxe upward. Lyia’s eyes widened, knowing now she was screwed, attempting the woman lept to the left but felt light when doing so. Slash...Thud. her right arm was upon the ground, blood curdling screams of agony washed throughout the Cemetery, blood dripping and rushing from her shoulder. Squirting through the hand which covered the major wound. Panting, groaning, grunting, cussing, all came from the woman before those amber eyes met his own masked face. “Fucker!” She cried out, standing and drawing one rapier with the left hand. ‘I have less than two minutes before I am done. I have to make this count. I must.’ She stated silently, eyeing him closely. ‘If I use that..I would have a minute.’ Zeronex back peddled, shocked, gasping, he didn’t know what to do. ‘Severing the arm of a pregnant woman. No, I didn’t want to do that.’ Focus lost for numerous moments till regained, seeing the woman with a weapon drawn. ‘No, don’t push yourself. Think about the child. You’re going to bleed out and die. Lyia, don’t..Please don’t.’ Words pleading within his mind. Two steps forward were taken, the woman vanished.

‘Above? Right? Left? Behind? Where the hell is she?’ Hand gripped the Greataxe. ‘I don’t want this any longer.’ Looking to the ground in front of him, Zeronex noticed a Greenish blue droplet. ‘Poison? Lyia, just leave.’ He’d sigh. ‘But, she wont. Spooks always strike from behind. So.’ He’d start to turn around before noticing Lyia appeared in front of him. ‘In front!?’ Zero was surprised. ‘The Fuck Woman!?’ Rapier driven twice into him. First, the stomach, second, the upper right thigh. Weapons pulled out and she seemed to do a little dance before vanishing, Zeronex swung the sword, missing her. ‘Shit.’ She’d appear on his right side, not making the same mistake twice, he parried the blow before seeking to grab Lyia. Once more, vanishing. ‘The shit is this?’ Looking down he saw the blood upon the ground. ‘Lyia...you’re killing yourself..Stop.’ Now appearing behind him, she drove the rapier through the waist line, then right shoulder really quickly before vanishing. Zeronex took numerous steps forward before regaining postion. ‘Above.’ Looking upward. There Lyia was, twirling while descending upon him. ‘Not this time.’ His arm reached out.

“UrrrrGHH!” Cried Lyia, rolling on the ground before hitting a tombstone which stopped her movements. The woman moved to sit up, reaching for a com device and signalling for the ERU. Zeronex had successfully stopped the final attack, sidestepping before grabbing her wrist, slamming her into the ground before spinning and tossing her like a rag doll. Bloody, lossing focus, the body threatened unconsciousness. “Heh..Got you.” Lyia spoke, panting, gasping, fighting for air and her life now. Zeronex fell to his knees. “The poison?” Inquired the male as Lyia laughed. “Correct. It is a mind numbing poison, mixed with a sleep potion. First, the senses dull, making you seem drunk. Motor functions are lost. After a bit, you lose consciousness. Don’t worry, you won’t die.” With Zero’s last bit of strength, hand rose, muttering a spell. Her wound, began slowing in amounts at which blood spilled, though not stopped fully. It would buy her some time. “Next time, think about the child.” His eyes closed, not before hearing voices, and heavy plated armor heading in his direction. “Fuck me.” Zeronex said before all was black. Mind, slipping into a dream.

((Hey all! I want to give a special shout out to Lyia for helping me out with this post. In the next coming weeks leading up to BFA I will be posting far more frequently as I lead the story forward. Much has transpired with Zeronex and as I try to find my creative jive again. I will be focusing on Tumblr along with RP as well. Thank you all that have been a part of Zero’s story, and those that want / will become a part of it in time. I look forward to creating with you all. Much love! ~Mikey~))

youtube

#rp #zeronex #wra

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zeviews · 7 years ago

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Psycho Pass 2 - Episode 1 “The Scales of Justice { 299 / 300 }”

Psycho Pass was conceived from the idea of making a successor to Mamoru Oshii's achievements such as Ghost in the Shell ( 1995 and I presume GITS 2: Innocence in 2004 ) and Patlabor, drawing inspiration upon such works like Minority Report and Blade Runner, the latter of which Naoyoshi Shiotani compared very close to Psycho-Pass. Gen Urobuchi, the series writer insisted heavily on using a Philip K. Dick-inspired dystopian narrative, a notable American writer whose written such influential works such as Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? and The Man in the High Castle.

Chief director Katsuyuki Motohiro really wanted this series to counter the concurrent trends, so for example the term moe was banned at staff meetings. Akane Tsunemori, the main character was created as the most relatable character, the one who would question the setting from the audience's point of view, and her journey from an innocent newcomer to a mature person.

Wow.. With a history like that.... With such passion behind it like how they appreciated dramas like Gundam and Patlabor, and conflicts between characters and the anti-moe sentiment.. One just has to ask themselves...

What the hell happened?

But let’s get down to it.

Episode 1 opens up with everyone’s most hated kind of people next to telemarketing people, attempting to sell and give free things to people at the street. So it’s no surprise that the secret doll-robot with a holographic exterior is carrying bombs.

While this is startling and certainly terrifying, no one gets hurt from it because as the police notes, the criminal made sure no one was in the immediate area. After all, when you live in a dystopian society and trying to get people to wake up and face the truth of it all, killing them will be counter-productive to your cause.

Akane observes footage taken by the cameras and notices a person whose looking towards the explosion and asks Karanomori to compare the picture of the man with a video they have of a masked man whose making wild threats and they conclude it’s the same person, whose also a demolitions export. So they locate where he is by following his movements using the cameras and surround the building his in, preparing to send in the Enforcers to apprehend or exterminate the suspect.

But the thing with insane demolition experts is that... They’re probably experts at setting traps so naturally, he’s set a trap for them. Though not just one, but three. The first was a bomb, the second was a empty truck on auto-pilot, and the third was a robot.

Now.. We have to move into spoiler territory a bit, mainly regarding Psycho-Pass 1. Towards the end of the show, Akane learns the truth about the Sibil System that controls society and even their guns, as in a sense, the most advanced computer ever. Around 20 or more brains are plugged into the mainframe which allows them to have complete access to the entire city and control each aspect as well as other nifty tricks and the key here is that all these people who run the Sibil System are the criminals that can avoid the system.

Unlike most protagonists, Akane decides not to out the truth to the public, which would surely ensure a riot and the downfall of this civilization structure that the Sibil System represents. Dogs and Cats, living together and all that sort of stuff. However, because she gives her word that she will not out them, she wants something in return which is the ability to control the lethality of her gun at will ( if I recall correctly ) and Sibil agrees.

This, is also where I lost all respect for Akane and the show as a whole. Presented with the opportunity to expose the truth, she chooses to be content within the framing of society. A society that does not work. A society that, tells you what you are allowed be and if it doesn’t work for you, tough luck, go ahead and die.

By allowing the Sibil System to continue, she’s enabling this criminal dystopian future to go on. She’s a tool of the worst kind by stating that she still believes in it - if I remember correctly from Psycho-Pass 1.

After some chasing of the suspect, they manage to corner him on the roof where he threatens to blow himself up but instead of shooting him, Akane starts talking to him and point out his admiral traits and noble attitude of wanting to expose the truth of the system and the likes, while he complains about how the system basically robbed him of wanting to do what he wants to do. Eventually she talks him down enough for his Crime Co-efficiency to drop below the 300 line, allowing her to bring him in non-lethal as opposed to splattering his body across the streets below.

When confronted by Mika Shinotsuki, on why she didn’t outright kill the suspect because the Sibil System had deemed him a waste of air and waste, Akane says that she made a judgement call and that the Sibil System reverted it’s decision on him. She walks away, while Mika says to herself that Akane is Wrong.

After the credits, we find the other two officers who were heading after the hostage only for the hostage to turn out to be the new series main villain - yet another one who can use their guns against them without fear of retaliation. The episode ends with the marking in blood scribble on the wall reading “ WC? ”

I guess someone really needed to use the toilet badly.

The Scales of Justice is a rather fast-paced episode that relies on you knowing the majority of the characters already while also showing that some time has passed since the first show. There’s a new character who plays the role that Akane had in the first series except that in this, she’s an absolutely awful character who I predict will most likely turn bad, while Akane is more self-secure in herself now.

When we next return to Psycho Pass 2, we’ll have a loot at Episode 2, The Creeping Unknown

- Zeithri

#psycho-pass #psycho-pass 2 #psychopath #review #anime #cyberpunk #episode 1 #zeithri

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tannerahonesti95 · 4 years ago

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How Much Is Reiki Treatment Fascinating Useful Ideas

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Reiki Master Austin Tx

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What Do You Learn In Reiki Level 2

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#How Much Is Reiki Treatment Fascinating Useful Ideas #Reiki Chakra Healing

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ciathyzareposts · 5 years ago

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The Black Gate: The C.S.I. Effect

The Fellowship has managed to infiltrate Britannia with the closest thing this world has ever had to a church.

For a game that gets really good, Ultima VII does not start promising. Particularly disappointing was the character creation process. This is the first Ultima since II not to allow any importing of characters. Character creation had of course reached its peak in Ultima IV, where the gypsy’s questions sorted you into one of eight classes and determined your starting attributes. Ultima V and VI lowered the number of classes to functionally three (fighter, bard, and mage, with the “Avatar” class a kind of synthesis of the three) but still let you go through the gypsy exercise, the specifics of which were retconned in VI. You could choose a female Avatar for the first time, and select from about half a dozen portraits whether male or female.

Ultima VII offers the fewest options of any of the games in the series. You can only type your name and select your sex, and there’s only one character portrait for each sex. And they’re both horrible–although the male Avatar does fit with the canonical portrait ORIGIN has been pushing on players since VI, including the two Worlds of Ultima spin-offs.

I briefly considered playing a female character, which I never do for the Ultima series, but I didn’t feel like looking at her portrait for dozens of hours, either. Why did ORIGIN reduce character customization? Was it just a matter of not wanting to spend the programming time to vary the portrait that shows up in dialogue? That’s a lazy approach for a company that did such a meticulous job with everything else.

The female Avatar has Evil Resting Face.

I sighed and chose the male portrait, naming him “Gideon”–my official alter-ego for any character I’m really invested in.

The opening moments beyond character creation are as chaotic as anything, especially for a new player. We start with a street scene in what turns out to be Trinsic. Two characters, one of them white-haired, are standing outside a stable and trading laments over some horrid event. Suddenly, the red moongate appears and spits the Avatar onto a paved (or at least cobblestoned) street with gas lamps–the first sign that Britannia isn’t the same Dark Age kingdom we last saw.

Where were moongates that open inside the city in the last couple of games?!

The white-haired, bearded man turns out to be Iolo, who immediately recognizes the Avatar despite not having seen him in–as he quickly reveals–200 years. Iolo and Dupre and Lord British are still alive because they originally came from Earth. No explanation is given for the longevity of the rest of the Avatar’s companions. The time jump isn’t really necessary at all, except perhaps to explain why Britannia looks more Colonial than Medieval. I don’t buy the rapidity at which the Avatar returns to his friendship with people who haven’t seen him in two centuries. I had some good friends when I was in my 20s, but I doubt I’d recognize them if I lived to be 220, nor would I attach a lot of significance to our friendship given all the other people I would have met, and all the other things I would have done, in that intervening time.

I soon learn that “something ghastly” has happened in the stables. The other person is introduced as a stablehand named Petre. I am encouraged to go and look in the stables for myself, which sounds fine to me. All I really want to do at this point is turn off the damned music. But I don’t have time to do even that, let alone enter the stables, because there’s a sudden earthquake. Iolo pipes up and suggests that Lord British might know the reason behind it. The tremor, we later find out, is caused by the events of the Forge of Virtue expansion. But, damn–did it have to happen immediately? This is like modern Elder Scrolls and Fallout games where you buy the expansions and you get 8 pop-up messages the moment the game starts telling you where to go to start the DLC missions. Could they maybe be spaced out a little?

Recovering from that, I’m about to move when suddenly the mayor of Trinsic comes hustling in from stage left. Iolo introduces him as Finnigan. Finnigan is doubtful that I’m the Avatar at first, but he ultimately relents and asks me to solve the murder that has just occurred. At this point, all my Avatar wants is a quite room and an Advil, but he gamely accepts the quest, which immediately prompts a dialogue with Petre. When can I finally turn off the @#$&ing music!? Not only do I find it repetitive and annoying, I suspect it’s responsible for the fact that the dialogue keeps freezing.

It’s a choice, but “no” just gets you trapped in town.

It becomes clear that in fact two people have been murdered: someone named Christopher and a gargoyle named Inamo. After some more dialogue that I miss because the game froze and implemented all my clicks when it un-froze, I finally have control. I turn off the music and save the game, and immediately things start to improve. The first thing I notice is that, with the music gone, there are background noises. I’m a big fan of games that use sound effectively to create a sense of immersion, and ambient sounds are a big part of that. We have a couple of different types of birds chirping in the distance and waves crashing on the shore to the east (Trinsic is a coastal city).

As we discussed last time, the interface has gone almost all-mouse, something I find maddening given that Ultima pioneered the efficient use of the keyboard. You right-click and hold to walk, with walking speed increasing the further you get from the Avatar. You left-click to do almost anything else. Single-left-clicking looks; double-left-clicking talks and uses; clicking and dragging moves and picks up.

The Avatar’s attributes.

There are still a couple of useful keyboard shortcuts: “I” to open inventories, “C” to enter and exit combat mode, “S” to save and load, ESC to close windows, and the venerable “Z” to bring up character statistics. It’s here that I found my Avatar has 18 in strength, dexterity, and intelligence. There’s a “combat” statistics for the first time, and I’ve started the game at Level 3 with the ability to train 3 attributes. Iolo is also Level 3 and has about the same statistics.

The inventory has been much discussed. You get an image of your character with lines pointing to slots for left and right hands, legs, armor, boots, gauntlets, rings, helm, neck, missile weapon, cape, and backpack. Ultima VII: Part Two will turn this into a proper “paper doll” screen where the character image itself changes to reflect what’s equipped. For now, you click and drag things in and out of those slots. The Avatar has started with leather boots, leather leggings, leather armor, a dagger, and a backpack.

The Avatar’s inventory and pack.

It’s the backpack where things get crazy. You can stuff a lot of things into it (as well as bags and other containers), and the little icons freely overlap. Finding a small object like a key in a backpack full of torches, reagents, documents, and other objects is at least as hard as it would be to find a real key in a real stuffed backpack. Even though it’s been almost 15 years, I remember that the last time I played, I organized items strictly by character–the Avatar has all the quest items; Iolo has all the food, and so forth–so I wouldn’t go crazy.

So far, it’s not so bad. The Avatar has started with a map, three lockpicks, a torch, 10 gold pieces, a cup, an apple, a bottle of wine, and a bread roll. I don’t think the cup serves any use at all; although a lot of items can be used together in this game, pouring the wine into the cup doesn’t seem to be one of the options.

All right. Time to explore dialogue. I double-click on Iolo and get six options: NAME, JOB, TRINSIC, STABLES, LEAVE, and BYE. These still aren’t really “dialogue options”; they’re just keywords. And I frankly preferred it when I had to type them myself, then watch for the response to see what other keywords I might use. Now, the keywords just spawn automatically in response to the dialogue. When Iolo tells me that his JOB is adventuring with the Avatar, I get AVATAR as an option. Clicking my way through them all, I learn that Shamino has a girlfriend who works at the Royal Theater in Britain and Dupre, who was recently knighted, is probably in Jhelom. (Have I been knighted? If not, why the hell not?!) Britain has grown to encompass Paws and the castle and dominates the east coast. Lord British will probably want to see me.

Dialogue options with Iolo.

Petre has wandered off somewhere, so I finally enter the stable. This is accomplished via a “remove the roof” interface that I believe was pioneered by Charles Dougherty in either Questron II or Legacy of the Ancients. (I wonder if ORIGIN licensed the “look and feel” of this game element from Dougherty.) The interesting thing about Ultima VII‘s approach is that entering one building removes the roofs of all buildings, so you can see items and people inside adjacent structures even when there’s realistically no way your characters would see into those locations.

Inside the stables is perhaps the most gruesome scene in any RPG so far in my chronology. (Well, no. I forgot about the two Elvira games.) The aforementioned Christopher is lying spread-eagle on the floor, each limb tied to an unspecified “light source,” his body hacked beyond recognition. A nearby bucket is filled with his blood. The gargoyle Inamo is in a back room, pinned to the wall with a pitchfork.

It’s cool that we’ve reached the point that such complex scenes can be graphically depicted.

Several tools are strewn around the stables, including a rake, a shovel, another pitchfork, and a pair of tongs. A key lies next to Christopher’s body, and near Inamo is a sack with some bread, a torch, and a few gold pieces. Footprints are all over the dirt floor and head out the rear door. As my character investigates, I’m conscious of how much authentic role-playing I’m now doing. I mean, I already know basically where the plot is going, but I still take the time to go over everything in the stables. I move objects to makes sure nothing is underneath them. I click on things I’m not sure about to get their names. I investigate, realizing as I do so that this is one of the few RPGs up until this point to offer a level of graphical complexity and object interactivity detailed enough to make such an “investigation” possible. This is the future of role-playing in RPGs, I think. Sure, it’s not bad to have dialogue and encounter “options” that let you maintain a consistent characterization or morality, but when the very interface of the game allows you to make decisions consistent with your character, you have something special. Unfortunately, Ultima VII will not only be one of the first games to support this kind of gameplay but also one of the last.

Petre the stablehand wanders in said rear door. He says he’s the one who discovered the bodies. Inamo was apparently his assistant, and lived in the little back room. (Wingless gargoyles, I recall, are less intelligent than their winged brethren and used mostly for manual labor.) Christopher was a blacksmith who made shoes for the horses. Petre assumes the murderer was after Christopher (a logical guess given that his body was the one posed) and that Inamo was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

We follow the footsteps out back and around the corner, where we soon come to the city gate. The gate is down and a guard patrols the room with the winch. His name is Johnson, and he says when he arrived for his shift, he found the previous guard, Gilberto, unconscious on the ground. This suggests the murderer made his escape through this gate, knocking out poor Gilberto on the way. I’d like to leave the same way and scout the outskirts, but apparently I need a password to leave the city (the manual alludes to this) and I don’t have it. He suggests I ask Finnigan. I do climb up to the city walls and see the docks just beyond the gate. I have to wonder if the murderer didn’t flee via boat or ship.

No clues this way.

Finnigan has taken off, so I settle in for a systematic exploration of Trinsic’s streets, starting by heading right out of the stables. I note that double-clicking on the street signs gives me street names, and I’m pleased to find that I can still read the runic writing without a guide. The stable is on Strand. Slightly to the west, we come to (in non-runic writing) the Avenue of the Fellowship and, right in front of us, the Fellowship hall. Might as well get it out of the way. I take a deep breath and enter.

I’m a little concerned, on a role-playing level, that the Avatar technically hasn’t been exposed to the Book of the Fellowship and thus has no reason to be cautious in his exploration of their hall. This concern is lifted when I find a Book of the Fellowship on a table right in the entryway. I imagine the Avatar reading it, asking Iolo, “What the hell?”, and getting a shrug.

The only person in the hall is a woman named Ellen, who says she runs the branch with her husband, Klog. She goes through the Fellowship philosophy and suggests that I see Batlin at the Fellowship headquarters in Britain to join. She claims to know nothing of the murder, having been home with Klog all night. I resist the urge to ransack the Fellowship hall and move on.

Hand-feeding my characters out of the backpack.

The Avatar complains about being hungry as we leave, so I feed him some bread. This is one of the legendary annoyances of the game. Characters have to be hand-fed throughout the game even though it’s trivially easy to find food–one of several examples of a game element created for want of a true purpose.

Up the road is the shipwright, Gargan, who offers deeds and sextants, neither of which I can afford. The notepad comes out and the “to do” list begins. Gargan has nothing to offer on the murder.

I was going to object to the name of the ship, but apparently some eels have scales.

I note that his house is filled with chests and containers. This is going to be true of a lot of houses in the game. Ultima VI was the first game in which the Avatar had an incentive to steal liberally from such containers, but this game is the first with no karma consequences. Instead of waiting until I have 80 gold pieces to buy a sextant, I can just remove one–and a gold bar besides!–from the pack in Gargan’s bedroom. You can steal things right in front of the occupants–clean out entire stores while the owners stand mute in the center of the room–with no consequences. Well–almost none. Eventually, Iolo starts making some alarmed remarks.

Stop complaining about how hungry you are, and I won’t have to steal a roast.

Heck, even the damned Guardian has something to say about it:

Really? Burglary is where you draw the line?

And I think maybe Iolo and your other companions leave you if you steal enough. The neat thing is that there’s a real incentive to steal. You start the game broke, and the nature of your mission doesn’t leave a lot of time for extensive wealth-gathering. But I’m going to stick to my tradition of taking my role as the Avatar seriously. I’ll do it the hard way. The sextant and gold bar stay in Gargan’s case.

I think you get the idea, so we’ll speed things up from here:

A young woman named Caroline is on the streets recruiting for the Fellowship. She says that they have their meetings at 21:00. It turns out that Christopher was a Fellowship member.

There’s a two-story house on the west side of town with a parrot on the first floor. No one tells me that it’s Christopher’s house, but the key we found with his body opens a locked chest on the second floor. The chest has a Fellowship medallion, 100 gold pieces, and a terse note that says, “Thou hast received payment. Make the delivery tonight.” I take the gold and note.

Markus the trainer runs a store south of Christopher’s house. He offers to train in combat skill. I decline, not having enough money, and forgetting how training works in this game. I’ll revisit it later.

A guy named Dell runs an armory in the southwest part of town. We do find a secret lever that opens a back room stuffed with weapons and armor, but again I decline to steal. I spend 50 gold pieces on a sword to replace my dagger.

In the far southwest part of town, we find the healer. Gilberto is lurking around his shop with a bandage on his head. He didn’t see his attacker, but he did note that The Crown Jewel was at the dock at the beginning of his shift and gone when he woke up from his concussion. He believes it was sailing for Britain.

Everything seems to be channeling me towards Britain.

The healer has a copy of The Apothecary’s Desk Reference, which reminds me of the standard Ultima potion colors. Black is invisibility, blue is sleep, orange awakens, purple conveys magic protection, white is light, yellow heals, green poisons, and red cures poison. I think I already had that memorized.

Visitors from the NetHack universe are suspicious.

The pub and inn is called the Honorable Hound. The owner and server, Apollonia, openly flirts with me. I buy a bunch of loaves of bread. The inn’s register shows that four people have stayed there recently: Walter of Britain, Jaffe of Yew, Jaana, and Atans of Serpent’s Hold. I suppose the murderers probably didn’t register, but you never know. We spend a night in the inn at the end of all of this.

There are so few role-playing moments in which “murder” and “flirt” are equally valid dialogue options.

I find Finnigan at City Hall in the center of town. He relates that he’s been mayor for three years. The Rune of Honor, which used to sit on a pedestal in the center of town, was stolen years ago by someone claiming to be the Avatar. It somehow found its way to the Royal Museum in Britain. Finnigan thinks this is symbolic somehow. The most important information from Finnigan is that he was present in Britain four years ago for a ritualistic murder with similar characteristics.

Finnigan’s office is hidden behind a couple of secret doors. I find them but don’t find anything incriminating in the office.

This game is a bit odd in that it doesn’t hide secret areas; it just hides the means to access them.

At 21:00, I peek in on the Fellowship meeting. It consists of Klug shouting the elements of the Triad of Inner Strength while the members shout things like “I believe!” and “I am worthy!” In between, Klug runs around lighting candles and occasionally genuflecting to the Fellowship icon behind the lectern.

Spark is unmoved by the testimony of Fellowship members.

The Guardian’s face appears to taunt me as I enter Christopher’s workshop on the south end of town. A boy named Spark–Christopher’s son, which no one bothered to mention–is clutching a sling and running around frantically. He’s supposedly fourteen, but his portrait makes him look about six. Spark tell us that his mother died a long time ago, so now he’s an orphan. The Fellowship had been harassing his father lately, and a week ago Christopher and Klog had gotten into an argument. Christopher had been making something for the Fellowship–something probably stored somewhere in the smithy. Either Christopher was a bit disorganized, or someone has recently tossed the smithy.

Dick.

Now that I know Christopher had a son, I feel bad about looting the gold. But Spark offers to give it to me for investigating his father’s murder. He says that he woke up from a nightmare the previous night and went looking for his father, and saw a wingless gargoyle (not Inamo) and a man with a hook for a hand hanging around the stables. He begs to join the party, and I agree. He comes with leather armor and a sling. Honestly, how were the first words out of Iolo’s or Petre’s mouths not, “Christopher has a kid. We’d better go see if he’s okay”?

I don’t know when Iolo started calling me “milord,” but I confess I don’t hate it.

Where Christopher is dead and his son is part of the party, I don’t mind taking things from the smithy. We loot about a dozen gold pieces and some clothing items. I try to make a sword by putting a sword blank on the firepit and operating the bellows, but I can’t get the sequence right. I think it’s possible. I don’t find whatever Christopher was making for the Fellowship, unless it was pants or sword blanks.

Spark, you must have seen your dad do this before.

My time in Trinsic closes with a return visit to Finnigan, who questions me on all I’ve learned and pays me 100 gold for what I’ve uncovered so far. He puts me through a copy protection exercise before giving me the password to the gates of Trinsic: BLACKBIRD. All signs point to visiting Britain next. We head outside. I find nothing at the docks except the fact (which I’d forgotten) that the developers managed to animate waves crashing on the shore for the first time in an RPG.

Another first for the Ultima series.

Continuing a theme started in Ultima V, the developers do a good job making Trinsic feel like a real place. Each resident keeps a schedule, including going to work in the morning, eating or stopping by the Honorable Hound for an evening meal, going to the Fellowship meeting (if a member), and tucking into bed at night. Every NPC has a house with personal belongings. When it gets dark, they light candles in their houses. During the day, they open shutters with comments to themselves like “Too nice a day for these to be closed!” They have brief conversations when they encounter each other. A dog and a cat roam the streets.

This is all admirable, but the problem of course is that this simulation has come so far that we can no longer regard the NPCs and buildings we see as a representative sample of the real number of NPCs in town. They’re clearly the entire population. The fabled city of Trinsic houses 10 people. By modeling daily life in such a realistic way, the developers call attention to the lack of realism inherent in population size. We notice the same problem even in modern games.

Finnigan won’t let me leave town until I relate what I’ve learned.

I’m hard-wired to create typologies out of everything, and this is something that needs a typology. Very few games in the 2000s adopt the “old school” model of towns-as-abstractions, which is most obvious in “menu towns” but also exists in games like Ultima II, where the geography of each city is just the broadest lines with the most important places (e.g., shops but no houses). BioWare has adopted what we might call the “matte background” model where the parts of the game that you can explore are just the most important parts, but the graphics suggest unending blocks of additional houses and buildings in the background. They populate the streets with a dozen generic NPCs to every important NPC, cleverly annotating the difference with sharpness of color and other indicators.

Another model for which we need a name is the Assassin’s Creed/Grand Theft Auto approach where there is a realistic number of buildings throughout the geography, including houses. You just can’t go into most of them; it would take far too much programming time to give them all interiors. The streets are also teeming with generic NPCs with basic AI. It’s far more realistic than, say, one of the cities in Skyrim, but also a little disappointing when there are so many doors you can’t open.

The Elder Scrolls follows the Ultima VII model. The developers’ philosophy is that you should not only be able to enter every building that you see but also find clothes in the closets and forks on the table. This comes with Ultima VII‘s drawbacks. Which model do you prefer, and can you think of a better approach (or one I didn’t mention at all)?

Time so far: 3 hours

*****

Potential bad news on Planet’s Edge. I’m running into a bug where if I try to beam down to Rana Prime, the game not only freezes but somehow corrupts the files so that I have to fully reinstall the game, start it, create a new save, and then load an old saved game to get my former party back. But then it corrupts again the moment I try to visit Rana Prime. No one else seems to be reporting the same issue, so I’m not sure what to make of it. Rana Prime does seem necessary to finish the game. I’ll keep playing with it; ideas appreciated.

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/the-black-gate-the-c-s-i-effect/

#retro games #dos games #retro #crpg #adventure #amiga #oldcomputers #8bit #16bit #blog #repost

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