#when one of the elites takes your gravity gun all he does is stare at it

[ohnoitsz1m]

The dialogue when fighting combine soldiers in hl2 kinda suggests that they're very much not just unfeeling robots entirely lacking personality or a sense of self preservation, and the dialogue in hl:a makes that even more apparent

I just don't really get where the idea comes from that they're basically just mindless zombies fulfilling tasks and not. yknow. Humans. (At least formerly-)

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Red Well (Part 3) Hearts and Minds

This is it folks! The MC is EMPOWERED! @rurifangirl

The smoke of liquid nitrogen was gone and people finally saw the true appearance of the holy skeleton. It looked like a crippled embryo. Its swollen head had a large single eye. What looked like a tail was actually a flesh-wrapped spine. Its ribs protrude outside the flesh layer, so it must have used these sharp ribs to insert into the host's spine and manipulate the body when it was parasitic. The holy skeleton did not die under the blade of Gathering Clouds. It twisted and made a "hissing" sound. The golden eyes flash at you, but in the glass capture chamber it could not touch any host that could be parasitized. Without the power of a body it was so weak it couldn’t escape through glass.

King General used a strong flashlight and peered through the outer layer of flesh of the skeleton. Inside the half-developed organs were faintly visible.

You could still feel yourself shaking, not only in fear of this thing and its hunger for you, but in fear of Ruri Kazama who was even stronger. Now you finally understood why Ruri Kazama offered to take you here, rob Herzog of the fetal blood and give it to you. It wasn’t just about saving your life. When you stared into his swirling pupils of red and gold, you finally grasped that this was about more than just survival. He wouldn’t stop at Herzog and Chisei. 

World Domination.

With you.

You have a nightmare vision of this unstoppable hybrid, killing everyone you know, piling them up like hay. Z understood his true nature. He warned you several times and each time you felt you had a reason to ignore him. His last words were “This one’s on you.”

You thought you were smart, strong, and quick enough to change and control your situation. But you were nothing compared to Ruri Kazama. Nothing!

There was only one way to free yourself...

"Look at it, how beautiful it is! What a perfect way to evolve! Before it was executed by the Black King, it actively evolved to live in parasitic form! It perpetuated its existence in this way!" The king pressed his hands on the capture pod and glorified the ugly parasite.

"Ah Excuse me!.” A voice from somewhere in this massive cave spoke up.  “..if the god is a parasite ...... then how does it help us evolve?'' 

 "It's not enough to find a parasite, you also have to find a host and food for it." The King smiled, "Only a very few hosts in this world can be parasitized by the god, such as Izanagi and Susanoo, but unfortunately the ancient descendants did not understand the great meaning of this parasitism and killed the god before it completely evolved into the new white king. It is not the god in this form that can give us the path of evolution, but the White King after the evolution is complete! We will see the new king ascend the throne and open a new chapter in the world!''

Pillars of light descended from the sky, enveloping you, the King General and Ruri Kazama in them. The helicopter's rotor blades cut through the rain curtain, a loud roar echoing through the well. It was a black helicopter with the cabin door open, and Gen Chisei sitting in the cabin, his long black trench coat whipping and flying.

At the last moment, Hydra arrived on the scene.

 Ruri Kazama, who had been silent, seemed to wake up from a deep sleep. His eyes lit up, and golden mandala-like patterns seemed to turn under them. He slowly lifted his head and looked up at the black shadow that had fallen from the sky, the gale blowing away the fringes of his Kimono to reveal his ribbed chest.

"Brother! Brother! You've come to see me? Are you here for my graduation?" He laughed wildly in the wind.

"Or have you come for my enthronement ceremony?" His smile tightened into a malicious grimace, leaving only biting ferocity, "With your blood to stain my vestments with your sacrificial red?"

Just like that, Ruri seemed to have forgotten about you. But he already told you what to do. 

Hide.

The ancient and stern language descended from the sky, just like the language of God echoing in the sky. The field of “Majesty" enveloped the Red Well, and tens of thousands of stainless steel wall panels fell off the well walls, pressing the king's wrath on everyone's head. The rules of gravity were forcibly changed. Everyone felt ten times their weight on their bones. 

You flee. You flee like you fled the soldiers in Black Swan Bay. The huge metal plates smashed down on the helpless Devil Clan elites. But you were not affected and you had the Sword of the Gathering Clouds to aid you. The super sharp master blade cut through the thick steal plates like paper as you headed for the safety cabins. You didn’t understand why you were spared Majesty’s influence. Was this payback for rescuing Sakura on the Tokyo Tower? Or did Chisei understand that you weren't exactly a willing participant in all this?

All around you the moans of the members of the Devil Clan were echoing. They were like souls trapped in hell.  You pause in your flight.

A young man had managed to grab your heel. His tears were pooling under his eyes. They were tears mixed with blood. His jaw looked distorted and broken. His chest was whistling with blood. He couldn’t have been older than you were, but he struggled.  “Help… me…”

Before you could answer a massive shadow loomed over you and a steel plate came down and smashed through his neck like a guillotine, sending his head flying clear off the platform into the well below.

This wasn’t fair. These were people. They didn’t know Herzog was bad any more than you did as a Black Swan Bay orphan. Again, your mind superimposes Black Swan Bay onto the Red Well. If Herzog had taken you to the capitol as promised, wouldn’t he still be your beloved father? Would he not have infected you with his distorted visions of evolution? These people were just trying to survive! They were all that was left of the Devil Clan. Everyone else was in prison!

What was the difference between them and you? They were just like you! They were being slaughtered like animals and they were just like you!

The Red Well suddenly echoed with a mighty roar that came from your wide open throat. It was plaintive and piercing like the cry of a lonely wolf or a mourning mother over her fallen child. It was full of sorrow but also fierce frustration that this shit keeps happening and you want it to fucking stop! Your throat stretched and rattled painfully. If you could stop the world with your voice, you would roar until your voice gave out!

Your eyes explode into a kaleidoscope pattern of black red and gold as the blood in your body finally takes full hold. Ruri’s blood has replaced your own. That blood was yours now and all the power that came with it!

Ruri was laughing wildly from somewhere in the cave. “Do you hear that brother! It’s just as it’s written! A rib was taken from a man and from it was formed into a woman! See! I can quote fairy tales too!”

Your hands seize a firm hold of Gathering Clouds and you spin and a dazzling horizontal arc! The secret of this mighty sword is that it could control the wind. One of the first emperor hybrids wielded it to push a wildfire set by his enemies back into them, burning them to ash. In this case, the sword produced a wind so powerful it knocked back all the massive steel plates. Even though they were heavy in normal gravity and ten times heavier under the influence of Majesty, this dragon-tail sword blew those plates away like they weighed no more than feathers! They scattered like dandelion tufts blown by a child!

There was nothing in your mind other than stopping this mindless slaughter. You didn’t care about the Devil Clan versus Hydra. In this matter, you had to agree with Ruri Kazama. There were no good guys versus bad guys. There were good guys in Hydra like Sakura Yabuki and there were good people in the Devil Clan, like Chime and Chance. The only evil that led both astray were Herzog and Bondarev. They should be turning those weapons on them! 

Chisei did not come alone. The heavily armed Hydra members followed Gen Chisei out of the cabin of the helicopters. They fired at the shaft wall with grapple guns and hung high from them, but Chisei Gen fell straight down. Kazama Ruri stretched the fuchsia-red sword in the air, Chisei’s twin blades made a dazzling ray of more than ten meters long, and the three blades fought against each other. The violent sparks illuminate the faces of the estranged brothers. Chisei’s  face is indifferent like a stone carving, but Kazama Ruri’s is like a bloodthirsty evil spirit.

Around them, gunfire and explosions continued. The Hydra Elites hung in the air by their grapple guns and pulled the trigger before they had even completed their fall. A hailstorm of bullets fell from the sky. The moment Chisei jumped out of the cabin, “Majesty” was lifted, but the engineering team and gunmen of the Devil Clan were cut down and suppressed by gunfire before they could get up and dodge. The Hydra elites were not going to spare anyone in the well. They were thugs among thugs, and now, even though they dangled from ropes, they hold their weapons as still and stable as professional assassins. 

A hurricane of violence had erupted in the Well of Bones. Ruri and Chisei’s blades were like lightning, the gun battles were like thunder, and you were howling like the wind.

You ran straight towards the wall, and then straight up the wall. Your face is like the mask of Medusa and your hair quivered like black snakes. You didn’t care how fast you were running, it wasn’t fast enough! People were still dying! If this were just up to you and just about you, you probably could have killed everyone in this well much more easily. That was how you were taught in Black Swan Bay. But now you’d been infected with a new philosophy.

The righteous philosophy of Caesar Gattuso! What was right mattered more than what was efficient. Human lives were worth more than the blood of gods! Your whole body felt like it was on fire as you cut through all the weapons of the Hydra members hanging on the walls. You were just as fast as Ruri was. Hydra leaders took aim at the Devil clan only for the muzzles of their guns to fall off and a strong breeze to shake them from the wall. You were able to easily outrun the bullets that strafed after you as you cut heavy weapons to pieces and cut them from their wires so that they would fall to the maintenance platform.

The surviving Devil clan members cheered as they crawled out from cover and picked up weapons to counterattack, and they aimed at the vital parts of the Hydra assassins, giving them fatal injuries while they were hanging in the air. But then those cheers changed to fearful confusion as this whirlwind of a woman descended on them and their weapons split in half even though they never saw you cut them.. “Stop fighting! Don’t you realize who the real enemy is?!” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own. It sounds like a mix of Ruri Kazama’s voice and yours, speaking double toned, like someone possessed.

“Traitor! She’s a traitor!” Someone yelled among the Devil Clan ranks

“Kill that Devil woman!” Came shouts from the Hydra elites on the wall.

Yelling erupted from every side of the well from both the Devil Clan and the Hydra elites. You’re suddenly enveloped by a hail of bullets from both sides who now viewed you as a dangerous enemy and united to fight against you. A rueful bitter voice echoed in your head. “Well, at least they answered your question. Their real enemy is you… apparently.” A strong wind burst out and the bullets of the Hydra and the Devil Clan shot back into their faces. Dozens of men on both sides on the conflict fell dead or seriously wounded in an instant.

You put one hand over your eyes. You cackled at your own despair. You couldn’t stop yourself laughing uproariously. Your laugh rose to an insane screaming pitch as you rose above the floor of the maintenance platform on a gale of wind like some sort of evil witch. “Fine… Fine! Have it your way. Tear each other’s throats and die here with no one to mourn you!” While you felt the evil of Herzog and the justice of Gattuso, you still had little patience for idiots.

“Leave her to me! I’ll take care of the rest!” A man darted forward. You could tell by his speed and the ferociousness in his eyes that this one was different. The sword he carried glow brilliantly as though it had been superheated. But to you he was just running like a child with a toy light saber. What mattered more was that he was a leader. He had influence.

You met him, but not blade for blade so as not to smash his weapon by accident. Instead you dodged while he struck at you again and again but you were like a ghost in the air. “Tell your men to stop fighting!” You say.

“I will not let you resurrect the god!” His blade suddenly burst into flames, extending its reach and sending a wave of fire at you. The fire ignites your dress, turning the white fabric to soot and exposing your midriff. Delicate white scales sparkled on your abdomen in the rain as though you were made of diamond. The man’s eyes widened in horror as you just absorbed what should have been a devastating blow.

“The god is already resurrected.” You tell him, your voice is shaking, pleading. The rain drops run down your face in a torrent. “You don’t understand its nature. I don’t think you can control it. If you don’t work together with the Devil Clan, you’ll never-”

Now it was the senior member’s turn to laugh. “Ha! Work together? Work with the greedy people who got us into this mess in the first place?!” He pointed the sword at you. His eyes blazing gold. “You’re just a child. We’ve been fighting this war for all our lives. Our sides were determined on the day we were born and I have sworn to follow my righteous path until I die!”

“These people are your family!” You scream desperately. “Chance’s real name was Ichirou Inuyama! He was Inuyama!”

You suddenly see his whole body glow like fire and his clothes burned away. Under his combat suit he was strapped head to toe in layers of plastic explosive! He’d prepared to meet a super-Devil like you or Ruri.

He howled against the wind. “DIE! DEVIL SCUM!”

Time seemed to slow as the raging ball of flame burned his body to ash and came towards you, and the roaring gale of Gathering Clouds bubbled outward to meet it. The force of the suicide vest was so powerful, the flames licked around your body, surrounding you in fire. But eventually, just as in the legend, the wind won out. The full force of the suicide blast flew away from you. Not only that, the blast was fed and accelerated by your ferocious wind until that fire  expanded into a fireball a hundred meters wide and heated up to nearly 2,000 degrees. It engulfed men and women who had thrown away their broken guns and pulled out knives and swords. If they didn’t have knives and swords, they fought with fists, feet, and bits of debris. They didn’t even look up when the ball of fire took them over and snuffed out their lives. The massive fireball left corpses and flames and devastation in its wake. 

But you didn’t mean it. You were just defending yourself.

A loud crash interrupted you before you could panic.  You jerked your head around and saw Chisei Gen standing under a shower of burning wreckage from a helicopter that was rolling down the wall. Gen Chisei did not dodge and it was too late to warn him.

 You run forward a few steps but the whirling blade that had broken off from the wreckage already chopped into Chisei’s shoulder, crushing the man flat to the ground as the rest of the blades cut in turn. Immediately afterwards, the crumpled black fuselage hit him and slid across the ground before finally crashing into the tall steel liquid nitrogen tank. Huge amounts of liquid nitrogen poured over the wreckage of the helicopter, frost spreading along the surface of the wreckage and rising up as a thick mist.

 The fuel tanks ruptured and the fallen wreckage was ignited. Electric sparks flashed and buzzed as if a thousand suns were burning at the bottom of the well, a wave of gas forcing everyone still alive apart.  Columns of light swept across the bottom of the storage well with columns of dust, fiery air currents and flying debris blew across the area.

The Hydra and engineering teams  of the Devil Clan were still fighting. They didn't even realize that the leader of the Hydra group had been killed in action. All of them were immersed in a great sense of mission and anger. No matter what the outcome of this fight was, no one could stop anymore. Even though you had the blood, the power, and the faith in justice, you felt lost and without any hope of victory.

You’re not even sure you wanted Chime to come back any more. Maybe this is for the best that he sleeps forever with his brother.

This was not Black Swan Bay. These weren’t little children running from explosions or cold-blooded men. These were adults. These people were choosing to kill each other. Even if they were deceived, they truly believed the deception. Even if you took all their weapons and tied them all up, they would still move and crawl on the ground in an attempt to tear at each other with their teeth.

The trap that Herzog had set was not this well. The burning man was right. The trap had been set and carefully laid in their minds and cultivated from the day of their birth. Just like the trap of the suicide pills. These people had to, not only choose to live and not seek death, but also choose to let others live and not seek the death of other people.

"So sad the end, ah... the family line that stretched for thousands of years, the guardian of Japan, just ended its mission.'' Herzog stands by the burning wreckage and laments in a poetic voice, "From now on in the world, there will no longer be any such thing as Emperor.”

"But no matter," he smiled faintly again, "Emperors were outdated anyway."

Ruri was strangely silent. With his brother gone, shouldn’t he be attacking Herzog?

Herzog hoisted the carrying case in his hand, the glass capture capsule is contained in that case. He has got what he dreamed of all his life. It is time to leave this well. You huff. What a magnificent bastard. He didn’t have to do anything to kill anyone here. Everyone was happy to do it for him, yourself included.

You stare at the sword in your hand. What a poisoned pill that sword turned out to be!

At that moment, a loud heartbeat came from behind him, like a sudden booming death knell, like something returning from hell! Hands covered in white scales pierced the metal skin of the wreckage of the helicopter, and crystal clear claws snapped around the head of the King General!

The flames in the wreckage sucked in and out, getting more and more fiery, as though something huge was breathing in the cockpit. Each time it inhaled a huge amount of air from within the wreck, it exhaled a gushing fire from it.

The suitcase fell to the ground. The King kicked and struggled. Not only is the pressure on that sharp claw increasing, but the sound of breathing was taking on a threatening aura. Kazama Ruri didn't move. Those dull, soulless eyes lit up again, and he watched with interest as the claw slowly tightened. The king's mask was crumbling, blood dripping down from the cracks.

The wreckage suddenly burst apart! The few people who approached the wreckage were immediately killed by the flying flames and debris.

Out of the firelight came the dazzling white shadow, someone who could no longer be called human. He was such a beautiful and hideous creature. He possessed gnarled muscles and rippling sinews that proclaimed what power was in this incredible body. The surface of the scales of his skin were like golden-red brocade in the firelight. The skin on his back split open. Slender bones opened up. Bloody wings stretched themselves out for the first time He was drenched in blood from this wing beat but the wounds on his back healed at a speed visible to the naked eye, after which the fierce and savage back muscles bulged.

The exoskeleton-encircled face could no longer smile or frown, and the newborn Chisei breathed up into the sky with a windy roar in his throat.

He was something between an angel and a devil, a mistake that should not have been made in this world.

 "Dragon's blood! You ...... you used dragon's blood?!" The General exclaimed.

Chisei’s voice was deep and echoing. "Yes, as an emperor, I can't kill you, but as a ghost, I can surpass the limits of an emperor." He said softly, "I've been a ghost slayer all my life, yet I didn't understand until this moment why those ghosts crave for power.''

He looked up at the dark night sky, rain pattering on that hard face: "When there is already boundless darkness where you are, how can you not fly to the flame?"

You gasp. Those words. Not those words! Those are Herzog’s words! Why was Chisei quoting the words of the dying Devil Clan? You reach out your hand. And then stop.  With a slight popping sound, the skull of Herzog broke like a water pipe. He threw the King's body on the ground and lowered his emperor-like golden eyes to observe. The corpse never moved a single bit.

The King surprisingly just died. And suddenly everything made sense. You were too occupied to think about it before. Didn’t Chisei fall helplessly before Ruri Kazama just hours ago? Didn’t Chisei always save Majesty to the end of the battle as an escape plan because it rendered him as helpless as a newborn kitten? In this instance, he’d thrown it out at the beginning! But he suffered no side effects. He wanted to kill Ruri Kazama so badly that he went against his own morals and principles.

Morals and principals were so troublesome. You think to yourself bitterly. They get in the way of efficiency. 

After what you’d seen of Ruri Kazama and after what you’d seen of the god. You didn’t believe you could survive here much longer and you didn’t think Chisei would win. It was best to escape while these two musclebound idiots solved their differences. Knowing them… they’d kill each other and you never got in the way of that before, and bitterly decide not to get in the way of that again.

Since Chisei didn’t suffer any from using his Soul Skill you decide to use your own Soul Skill. You press your foot to the ground and let the spiritual roots take hold without reservation. Mental filaments spread like vines and touch every part of the Red Well until you feel like you wear it as a second skin. You needed a way out. Then you could bury this place in magma. The magma wasn’t far from here. After all, it fed the god that caused all this. You would simply return it to its place.

A strange signature, like three footsteps, catches your attention. Someone had walked up near the rim of the well close to the machinery lift platform. You can’t see anyone, but they’re there. Who could be up there?

Your heart suddenly leaps into your throat and your memory throws up the scene on Tokyo Tower of Ruri beheading and then severing the body of the King in two only for it to pop up again in a second place! The person standing up on the platform was likely the real King! This body is a fake!

“Ha!” You snarl and take the Heavenly Cloud blade and strike the ground. It summons a huge tornado that lifts you off like a rocket. You really did have wings and you were going to  pounce on this King creature like and eagle and kill him for real. 

But this man was always prepared. What would he have for you? Bombs? Hah. Deadpool? Hah! There was nothing that could save him!

When you approach the rim of the well, it’s too late that you see the fine nano-fiber mesh that surrounds it. It wraps around you like a spiderweb, and clings tight as you collide with it and push with forward momentum. The Sword of Gathering Clouds slips from your grasp and goes falling back towards the well. Immediately your upward momentum comes crashing down onto the flat land that surrounds the Red Well and you roll several feet before coming to a stop next to an armored boot. Your hands are bound, your legs are bound. The nanofibers are crushing into your skin.

You stare up into the sky and a pistol is pointed right at your forehead. Herzog’s masked face comes into view. He waggles his fingers in greeting. “Hello.”

[atinybitofau]

S E O N G H W A ⭇ art thief au

WHO COULD PUT A PRICE ON FINE ART?

a/n: had a little fun with this one hehet

• “A little more to the left.. a little more... there! That’s perfect.”

• now I know this sounds boring.

• —you being one of the most elite art exhibit planners in the country.

• except you find it more worth while than anyone else normally would.

• art being more important to you than a menial article of praise.

• art was a gift—

• a skill no less.

• that shouldn’t be auctioned for money hungry fools.

• but for people with a taste.

• though you don’t give yourself enough credit.

• not like anyone gives it to you in any how.

• “Y/n, Mr. Jung won’t be making it tonight. The finalized list of visitors will be printed and in your hands before doors open.”

• you smile your assistant away, fumbling with white tulips in a priceless vase.

• “One less of a burden anyway. We can open doors at 7.”

• things at the exhibit were perfect.

• after all, it was you who planned it.

• artists from far and wide just thieving for your expertise.

• the expertise of setting their art up.

• time was almost near,

• you, yourself presenting like an art piece from the pop up.

• but lights blind you as you check yourself in the mirror.

• halls eerily quiet.

• till you hear a hushed glass shatter over your breath.

• you run on your 5 inch heels thinking,

• how could you have been so unprepared?

• you, a widely known exhibit planner,

• to be robbed minutes before the exhibit even begins.

• you gasp,

• when the lights flicker on.

• a man like Spider-Man hanging lopsided from a rope, only lips shown to you.

• vice and like an art form itself.

• the way it mocked you and your excellence.

• “You’ve done an outstanding job, Ms. y/n. With your over the top art events— I couldn’t help but drop by and steal a glance of my own.”

• your jaw tightens and you’re eye locked with the masked robber.

• “A man like you shouldn’t feel honored.”

• “That may be so. But I’m definitely honored by the art pieces you have put out here today. One in particular I seem to be granted on.”

• he’s talking about you.

• though hiding behind a mask,

• feeling tempted to reveal himself in your presence.

• “My staff... what have you done with them?”

• “Oh? The poorly rooted crew you call your staff? Those little pesks would believe any voice out of your given ear pieces. Even if it were my own.”

• “Of all exhibits, why mine?” you ask the thief, eyes still unruly drawn to his.

• more tempted to pull the mask right off his face.

• if not for the visible gun and knife at his collar.

• “Now, Miss. That’s no way to credit yourself. You’re the most enviable art host in all of South Korea. Not at all tasteless. And maybe a little bit uptight but that’s no ridicule. I would steal your art auctions faster than you could say you’ll spite me for it.”

• “Is it too late?”

• “Depends. Turn around and we’ll see.”

• you reach to slap him when he graces on his rope like a stripper.

• lips smirking at you through his ski mask.

• and you visibly shudder, gulping.

• eyes watering when every single painting, sculpture, and art form disappeared while you had been conversing with the thief himself.

• “Y-you’re gonna pay for this.”

• “Will I?”

• the lights flicker again and you’re left in an empty space.

• no beauty.

• no art.

• no skills left to present.

• you were helpless because of a damn thief.

• and after paying your dues,

• a kind sue despite it being your fault,

• now jobless at the will of the devil,

• close to committing suicide for losing your whole life.

• just from one hell of a heist.

• “Y/n, there’s a check for you in the mail.”

• you look up concerned, letter now in your hands.

• it’s a check for half of a million.

• you noticing the only hint at the corner of the letter.

• an address?

• and a note hidden inside as well.

• ‘though you don’t give yourself enough credit, miss, you did take part in the most successful heist in South Korea’s crime syndicate. here’s your share. if it doesn’t tickle your fancy, why don’t you give my little art exhibit a visit? Maybe we could negotiate a price more reasonable for you.’

• your fingers play with the check.

• all of your debts solved if you do accept it.

• classless money.

• though...

• you had to admit that you were tempted to give yourself the credit.

• after all?

• wasn’t it you who set up the most successful art heist in the world?

• “Woah, girly. You’re at the wrong art exhibit.”

• shakily, you try to make out the lips on this handsome man.

• not the man you’re looking for, you think.

• not the art form you couldn’t stop thinking about for the past months on end.

• not the one who robbed your life away in a light’s flash.

• “Who sent me this?” you ask another man whose lips also had no resemblance to the lips you look for. “I need to beat the shit out of them.”

• one on the stair railing, eyes of glass shards smirks at you poking interest.

• “Brave for someone who rudely walked into a fox’s home.” the blond sings quoting the thief of animals. “As a past art collector, don’t you think you could give the home’s residents a little more class? Like complimenting the art on the wall. The least you could do, Ms. y/n.”

• he’s not him.

• speaks like him.

• acts like him.

• but he’s not.

• “I know you’re trying to deceive me. But I’m here to thank your little boss. Someone a little less tasteless.”

• he’s impressed.

• thinks you’re as graceful as they come.

• no doubt the woman his boss has been pining for.

• an art that he’d insist on stealing if it didn’t come to him fatefully.

• “What makes you think I’m not him?”

• “I’m an art collector, didn’t you say?” you taunt the petty thief, other’s joining in on the show. “I have a knack of weeding out the grotesque virtues.”

• “It’s a wonder why you haven’t joined us yet.” the blonde jumps off nodding towards the highest level of the building. “Doing quite well stealing the hearts of men, why not the art on people’s walls that they don’t deserve?”

• he makes one hell of a statement though.

• for someone who knew very little of you.

• that you’d have a knack of doing what they do.

• “Go on then. The art piece you’re looking for’s up there.”

• you shove the cash check into his chest before storming up,

• for the moment,

• for the first time in your life ignoring the paintings on the walls.

• sighted on a more particular object of beauty.

• “Ms. y/n.”

• you stare at the curves of his back.

• as he stands in front of clear glass panes that face a city.

• like a truly priceless art form.

• “Finally giving yourself the credit you deserve?”

• you take a deep breath before saying, “Depends. Turn around and we’ll see.”

• so he does.

• and you think you need to give yourself more credit too.

• for finding the most beautiful art piece in the world more definitely being a vice you shouldn’t be shameful for. but proud of.

• “Yeah.” your lips twitch. “I should give myself more credit.”

• his eyes spoke more than it should.

• like something out of a museum.

• history of unspeakable truths.

• you wanted to keep it for yourself.

• an art you didn’t want to sell even if your life depended on it.

• “Ms. y/n. I hope you didn’t show up here to return what you insisted I’d pay for?”

• you let him enjoy mocking you.

• heels locked in place when he’s towering you the way he did on a rope not even a year ago.

• his head cocks in interest. “What’s this? You don’t seem unhappy. More enticed to see me actually. Now of all exhibits, why mine?”

• you’re in a time lapse.

• of hand crafted beauty at your disposal.

• but no one’s asking you to auction anything but yourself and your life.

• fully committed to using your skills for his bidding.

• “What you did to me deserves more than just a payment from selling you out the largest art heist in the world. I deserve more credit than that.”

• he’s bought.

• the way you look.

• the same way he did when he was robbed of his own life years ago.

• the vengeance and the vice.

• “That you do.” he glances to your lips. “Is this your way of saying you’d like to plan one of my heists, ms. y/n?”

• if this is how everyone feels about winning an auction.

• maybe you were wrong about the tasteless rejectables of high society.

• “Do you doubt my skills, fox thief?”

• “Give me none of that,” he chuckles lowly. “I am no fox. Just a man who craves the best art in the world.”

• “And I’m just a woman who came here to beat your ass.”

• he smiles at you.

• thinking you’re definitely the one art piece he left behind that day he should’ve stole over anything else.

• “And now?”

• “Now I just want kiss your ass. For giving me the credit I’ve always deserved.”

• you think he’s the greatest creation.

• for knowing true art and what’s valuable—

• the recognition.

• not the fame.

• “Did you get to look at the art downstairs? My exhibit that’s been needing a skillful planner like yourself.”

• your eyebrows frown. “More stern on finding you.”

• he smirks. “How sweet. Though... why don’t we take a second glance at them, shall we?”

• you follow him out.

• his hands interlaced with yours.

• as your greeted to 7 other smirking men at not only your disposal, at the bottom of the staircase.

• thieves in their natural habitat.

• surrounded by paintings that none other than you had painted years ago.

• that you thought you had sold to an anonymous collector.

• “Now about that heist we talked about. Let’s start by stealing what you really deserve.”

• he spins you around.

• arm locked up with yours.

• “How’s my heart sound? What kind of a price would you put on that?”

• “A price only I could afford, I’m sure.”

@atinybitofau

[dumb-american]

The Rebuild of Final Fantasy VII: Your Expectations Will (Not) Be Met

I apologize for the stupid title and I promise I’m going to talk about the Final Fantasy VII Remake, but I have to get this out of the way first. Sometime in the mid 2000s, acclaimed artist and director Hideaki Anno announced that he was going to remake his beloved anime series Neon Genesis Evangelion the way it should have been the first time, free from technical and budgetary restraints. Evangelion had a notoriously strange ending when the original anime aired, consisting of character talking over still images, abstract art, and simple animations. It was highly polarizing and controversial. Anno, for his part, received death threats and the headquarters of the studio that produced the anime was vandalized. Soon after the initial uproar Anno would direct The End of Evangelion, a retelling of the final two episodes of the anime, and that seemed to mostly satisfy the fanbase. Looking back now, The End of Evangelion wasn’t “fixing” something that was “broken,” no, it was a premonition: a vision of things to come. Why remake the ending when you can just remake the whole damn thing?

The mid 2000s also saw the birth of the Compilation of Final Fantasy VII: a sub-series of projects expanding the universe and world of the video game that had “quite possibly the greatest game ever made” proudly printed on the back of its CD case. The Compilation consisted of three games, all on different platforms, and a film. First was Advent Children, a sequel to Final Fantasy VII, where three dudes that look like discarded Sephiroth concept art all have anime fights with our beloved protagonists, culminating in a ridiculous gravity defying sword fight between Cloud and Sephiroth. Before Crisis and Crisis Core are prequels that expand the story of the Turks and Zack Fair, respectively. Then there’s Dirge of Cerberus, an action shooter staring secret party member and former Turk Vincent. Were these projects good? I’d say they were largely forgettable. Crisis Core stood out as the obvious best of the bunch and I think may be worth revisiting.

As a business model, the practice pioneered by the Compilation would continue on and eventually brings us FFXIII (and sequels), FF Versus XIII (which would later become FFXV), and FF Agito XIII (which would later become FF Type-0). If that’s all incredibly confusing to you, I’m sorry, I promise I will begin talking about the Final Fantasy VII Remake soon. Suffice it to say, both Final Fantasy VII and Neon Genesis Evangelion have a certain gravity. They punch above their weight. They are both regarded as absolute classics, flaws and all. And yet, in both cases, the people responsible for their creation decided that their first at bat wasn’t good enough and it was time to recreate them as they were meant to be all along. I think this way of thinking about art is flawed, limitations are as much a part of the creative process as vision and intent. Yet, we find ourselves in a world with a remake of Final Fantasy VII, so I guess we should talk about it.

From this point forward, there’s going to be major spoilers for every Final Fantasy VII related media. So, be warned.

So, is the Final Fantasy VII Remake any good? To me, that’s the least interesting question, but we can get into it. FFVIIR is audacious, that’s for sure. Where Anno condenses and remixes a 26 episode anime series into four feature length films, the FFVIIR team expands an around 5 hour prologue chapter into a 30+ hour entire game. Naturally, there will be some growing pains. The worst example of this is the sewers. The game forces you to slog through an awful sewer level twice, fighting the same boss each time. This expanded sewer level is based on a part of the original game that was only two screens and was never revisited.

Besides the walk from point A to point B, watch a cutscene, fight a boss, repeat that you’d expect from a JRPG, there’s also three chapters where the player can explore and do sidequests. The sidequests are mostly filler, but a select few do accomplish the goal of fleshing out some of the minor characters. You spend way more time with the Avalanche crew, for example. Out of them, only Jesse has something approaching a complete personality or character arc that matters. The main playable cast is practically unchanged which was a bit surprising to me. I figured Square-Enix would tone down Barret’s characterization as Mr. T with a gun for an arm, but they decided, maybe correctly, that Barret is an immutable part of the Final Fantasy VII experience. Also, it’s practically unforgivable that Red XIII was not playable in the remake considering how much time you spend with him. I don’t understand that decision in the slightest.

The game’s general systems and mechanics, materia, combat, weapon upgrades, etc. are all engaging and fun and not much else really needs to be said about it. I found it to be great blend of action/strategy. Materia really was the peak of JPRG creativity in the original FFVII and its recreation here is just as good. The novelty of seeing weird monsters like the Hell House and the “Swordipede” (called the Corvette in the original) make appearances as full on boss fights with mechanics is just weaponized nostalgia. In general, the remake has far more hits than misses, but those misses, like the sewers and some of the tedious sidequests, are big misses. It is a flawed game, but a good one. If I were to pick a favorite part of the game, I’d have to pick updated Train Graveyard section which takes lore from the original game and creates a mini-storyline out of it.

If that was all, however, then honestly writing about Final Fantasy VII Remake wouldn’t be worth my time or yours. The game’s ambition goes way further than just reimagining Midgar as a living, real city. There’s a joke in the JRPG community about the genre that goes something like this: at the start of the game, you kill rats in the sewer and by the end you’re killing God. Well, when all is said and done, the Final Fantasy VII Remake essentially does just that. Narratively, the entire final act of the game is a gigantic mess, but if you know anything about me then you know I’d much rather a work of fiction blast off into orbit and get a little wild than be safe and boring.

In the original games, the Lifestream is a physical substance that contains spirits and memories of every living being. Hence, when a person dies, they “return to the planet”. It flows beneath the surface of the planet like blood flows in a living person’s veins and can gather to heal “wounds” in the planet. In the original game, the antagonist, Sephiroth, seeks to deeply wound the planet with Meteor and then collect all the “spirit energy” the planet musters to heal the wound. The remake builds on this concept by introducing shadowy, hooded beings called Whispers. The Whispers are a physical manifestation of the concept of destiny and they can be found when someone seeks to change their fate, correcting course to the pre-destined outcome. Whispers appear at multiple points throughout the game’s storyline both impeding and aiding the party. The ending focuses heavily on them and the idea that fate and destiny can be changed. We receive visions throughout the game which some will recognize as major story beats and images from the original game. After dealing with Shinra and rescuing Aerith, the game immediately switches over to this battle against destiny and fate that you’re either going to love or hate. The transition is abrupt and jarring. While Cloud has shown flashes of supernatural physical abilities throughout the game, suddenly he has gone full Advent Children mode and is flying around cleaving 15 ton sections of steel in half with his sword. The party previously took on giant mutated monsters, elite soldiers, and horrific science experiments, but now the gloves are off and they’re squaring up against an impossibly huge manifestation of the Planet’s will. Keep in mind, in the narrative of the original FFVII, the Midgar section was rougly 10%, if that, of the game’s full storyline. This is, frankly, insane, but I’d be lying if I didn’t love it.

The Final Fantasy VII Remake, with its goofy JRPG concluding chapter, is forcing the player to participate in the original game’s un-making. We see premonitions of an orb of materia falling to the ground, we see an older Red XIII gallop across the plains, we see a SOLDIER with black hair and Cloud’s Buster Sword make his final stand, we see Cloud waist deep in water holding something or someone. We all know what these images represent, they’ve been part of imaginations for decades. But the Final Fantasy VII Remake allows us (or forces us, depending on perspective, I guess) to kill fate, kill God, and set aside all we thought we knew about how the game would play out post-Midgar. The most obvious effect of our actions is the reveal that Zack survived his final stand against Shinra and instead of leaving Cloud his sword and legacy, helped him get to Midgar safely. I have my doubts and my worries about the future of this series. I’m not sure when the next part of the game will be released or what form it will come in, but I can’t believe I’m as excited as I am to see it.

Of course, part of me wishes they’d just left well enough alone. Remakes are generally complete wastes of time and effort. Not all, but most. Maybe I’m, to borrow a term from pro wrestling lingo, a complete mark here and I just love JRPGs and Final Fantasy VII so much that I’ll countenance close to anything bearing its name. I’ve tried my best to be as critical and fair as possible to the game and I hope that if you’re on the fence and reading this I’ve maybe helped you decide if it’s for you or not. I think the Final Fantasy VII Remake is worth your time if you’re looking for a good, meaty JRPG. It’s not perfect and it’s final act is insane, but that just makes me love it more.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like for Zack, Cloud, and Aerith to face Sephiroth in the Planet’s core? I know 15 year old me did. And he may get his wish.

[vulcanlsj]

Rightful Heir Chapter 1 (DBZ Alternate timeline fanfic)

Imagine a world where Goku didn't hit his head as a child, and took over Earth. In such a world, Vegeta decided to take Earth as his own, and enslave the humans. My OC Vulcan and Vegeta spar, with Vegeta having secret plans...

Two metal balls hurtled through space from the only area of the north galaxy that the iron grip of the Saiyan Empire didn't reach. One of the balls had a small round glass window, and the sigil of the Royal House of the Saiya-jin. Inside the ball, laid a large man, roughly built, with a scar on his left biceps. He wore silver and red chest armor, with a red cape attached to his shoulders. On the left breastplate was the sigil of the Royal Family. That signaled that he was not only a Saiyan but related to the royal bloodline as well. A brown tail was wrapped around the waist, and red hip guards that ran down his thighs. He wore light blue pants, and silver armored boots, the same style wrist protectors accompanied his arm.

His face was his most interesting feature. The first was the unusual dark brown hair, which might signify that he was a Demi-Saiyan, including its short nature. It was parted up the middle, and was barely half an inch in length. He had three noticeable scars: one on the left side of his neck. It was as though the maker tried to puncture his jugular.

The other ball held a young woman, with equally unusual violet hair. She might have been a Demi-Saiyan as well, her straight hair didn't betray that aspect. She was wearing similar armor to the man in the first ball, minus the royal sigil on her breastplate.

The occupants were concentrating on a task that they would soon be putting into action. She seemed more calm than he did, as his face had a look of pure determination. In his mind, he though about a day 27 years ago, that brought about this day.

He entered the atmosphere, and landed on one of the landing cushions. A couple of guards came out, and opened his space pod.

"Hai, Vulcan-sama, it is nice of you to visit Earth," one of the guards said as Vulcan got out.

"Today, is something supposed to happen that I wasn't told about?" Vulcan asked with a stern face.

"Y-yes sire, Vegeta plans on beginning a tournament for the humans to prove themselves to us. He hopes it to bring some form of entertainment to the planet."

Vulcan tensed at that statement. He never liked holding entire races that had very similar appearances below his own race. He based his opinions on the person, like in the case of Zarbon or Dodoria.

"You think forcing people to make a bloodbath is called entertainment? That is just a disgrace!"

"Y-y-yes Vulcan-sama, but Vegeta-sama wishes that you attend. He wishes to talk with you over certain matters."

"Alright, but first, tell me why he called me here in the first place. And don't test my patience," Vulcan stared down at the guard.

The guard stepped back, and tried to think, but couldn't get anything. "I don't know, the sire did not tell me any information about your arrival, just that you were coming, and to tell you to come to the arena. I will have some escorts take you there." The guard just looked scared out of his wits, and reached to his hip. He grabbed a communicator, and turned it on.

Vulcan turned away and stopped paying attention. He looked down to the streets of the city. There were many humans in ragged clothing, straggling around trying to clean up through slave labor.

The guard tried to get Vulcan's attention by tapping him on the shoulder, which was a bad move for him. Vulcan instinctively swung his arm backward and smashed his fist into the guard's face, breaking his nose, and fracturing his cheekbones. The guard fell to the ground holding his face. Vulcan stared down at him with a look of irritation.

"Never startle me. Understood?" Vulcan belted at the fallen guard and everyone else that was there.

"Y-y-yes s-sir Vulcan-sama, it won't happen again," the guard stammered back. "But what I was going to tell you was that your escorts are here, follow them through that door, and to Vegeta-sama's palace arena."

Vulcan followed his escorts without saying a word. He looked at them both, and learned that one of them was female, a rarity among Saiyans. He looked at her with amazement. She had long, wild black hair, wore a dark blue suit, with the normal shoulder guard armor with white gloves, and toed boots. At her hip, she had a restraining collar gun. She was pretty strong looking for a Saiyan, appearing as though she could take a few Saiyans on at once, and come out the victor. She probably could take more, but Vulcan couldn't tell at the moment.

"Excuse me miss, can I ask your name?" Vulcan asked the woman as they were walking.

"What, oh, my name is Lenora, why do you ask sire? Have I done something disrespectful?" she questioned him with a puzzled look.

"No, its just that you look like you could handle yourself in a big fight, and not a lot of female Saiyans I've seen can."

She blushed slightly, and turned away. "Thank you sire, I appreciate that."

"Good, I like a woman that can accept a compliment. Why don't you see me after the tournament today? I'm not sure where I'll be, but I'm sure Vegeta has a special place for me." Vulcan emphasized the word "special."

"Hai, sure Vulcan."

"Yeah, but when you visit, you don't have to call me by my formal name, alright?"

"Okay, um, this is the place, Vegeta is through this door."

"Thank you, I'll see you later." Vulcan opened the door, to see the short prince sitting on a throne, looking out to an arena, where spectators were screaming for something to begin. The prince turned to look at Vulcan, and then a wicked grin grew on his face.

"Welcome Vulcan, I'm glad you could come. I see that you decided to join me at the arena to watch what I hope to be a magnificent tournament. Please, sit down next to me and Kakarot, we have the best seat in the house," Vegeta welcomed Vulcan as he offered him a seat.

"Thanks, but no thanks, I'd like to stand if you don't mind."

"Oh, no, I don't mind, as long as you are comfortable. I mean, I don't want you to strain yourself."

"I'll be fine Vegeta."

Then came the signal to begin the tournament. The tournament consisted of 32 people in two sets of brackets. Which makes for a total of 16 qualifying fights. The first fight was between a small bald headed man, and a large bear of a human that was nearly three times his size. He performed many back flips to show off his amazing agility. Then the small one leaped at the large one, and hit him with a roundhouse kick, sending the large one into the wall. Vulcan looked at this with a surprised look on his face.

Vegeta saw this reaction from Vulcan. "Yes, I see that some of these humans are much stronger than they look, especially that little one," Vegeta commented. "Kurilin is his name I believe. He stands to show that some of these human may have some potential. Don't you think so Kakarot?"

Kakarot nodded, "Humans like that one may make for good soldiers that we can exploit."

Vulcan interjected with a demand, "Why do you have to treat every other race as though they are inferior? You make them into slaves for just that reason."

"They are inferior because of their weakness, but I am trying to help them make a reputation by having this tournament. They just have to prove themselves to us," Vegeta assured Vulcan.

"Yeah, and what exactly does the winner of this tournament get?"

"They get a chance to fight an elite of my choice. If they survive, they get made into a ranked soldier."

"Humph, sounds like a death wish to me." Vulcan just crossed his arms, and leaned back against the wall, looking out towards the arena, just in time to see Kurilin snap the neck of the fat man. The crowd roared and cheered, and called for the next fight.

The next fight turned out to have another big man, although not as big as the last. His opponent was a bulk man, with an average height. The big one yelled out his name in show of quick victory, Spopovitch. The average man fell into a defensive crouch, as Spopovitch charged at him. He attempted a sweep, which didn't stop or slow Spopovitch. Spopovitch then grabbed him by both of his arms, and gave him a crushing hug.

"Die, Stiener, be a quick death, and you will not regret it," Spopovitch said. Stiener passed out from the pain, and Spopovitch let him fall to the ground. He then picked him up by his head, and smashed his head between his hands.

"Now that was interesting," Kakarot said.

"Yes, he would make an excellent soldier. He reminds me of Nappa, so large, and well built," Vegeta remarked. "All he would need is to train in my newly constructed gravity chambers." He then looked to Vulcan. "Don't you find this entertaining Vulcan? This is the reason that I asked you to come here."

"Not all that much. I only find true joy in personal fighting," Vulcan replied.

"Well, that's odd. I thought that this would be entertaining. What exactly do you want to do?"

"I want to go back to Planet Vegeta, that's what I want."

"I can't let you do that, that wouldn't be very host like me. You're my guest, what would make your stay more enjoyable, hmm?"

"I'd like a challenging fight, that would help." Vulcan looked down to the small section of elite watching the fights. "So which of your elite are you going to have me fight? Will it be the hulking Nappa? Or the sick sadistic bastard Raditz? Or even Kakarot here? Any others I'm forgetting?"

Vegeta thought for a few seconds. He didn't think Raditz would give Vulcan much of a challenge, though it would be fun to see Raditz's tactics put up against Vulcan's legendary fighting skills. Nappa fought Vulcan years ago, before Frieza put distance between the Saiyans and the Ice-jinns, and Vulcan easily took Nappa down. He wasn't sure if Nappa was now stonger than Vulcan or not. And Kakarot had been getting a lot stronger and had tactics that Vegeta thought even compared to his own. But he needed someone to kill Vulcan, after all, that was the real reason he had summoned Vulcan here.

"No, it will not be any of my elite," Vegeta decided, "as a matter of fact, I think I'll fight you." Vegeta smirked as he pondered over how he was going to kill Vulcan. He needed to take him out before he reached something that Vegeta was on the edge of himself. That and he planned on taking his father's place as leader of the Saiyans. Vulcan could complicate things. Of course, Vegeta would have to have a couple of training bouts, to judge how strong Vulcan really was.

Vulcan was surprised as he responded, "You're gonna fight me?"

Vegeta killed his smirk, "If it keeps you happy and on Earth for a week or two, then yes. Your sparring partner will be me." He kept his emotions of elation to himself.

"OK, but I need to get prepared first, where is my room?"

"I'll have one of my guards show you to your room," Vegeta raised a hand to signal for his guards to come forward. They led him out of the room, as Vegeta and Kakarot discussed Vulcan's desire for a fight.

"So Vulcan is actually becoming part of your plan for the throne?" Kakarot asked quizzically.

"Yes, sooner than I had expected." Vegeta smirked again, and watched the next fight.

Outside of Vulcan's room, Vulcan turned to the guard before he left his sight. "Excuse me, but before you leave, find the guard known as Lenora, and bring her here. We have a meeting that needs to be held ASAP."

"Hai sama, I'll be right back." The guard continued down the hall as he checked his hand held scanner. Vulcan just looked around the room, and decided to rest. He'd wait for Lenora to show.