Seemed like fun, so I thought I'd try my hand at some of these. Here they are so far, accomplished with varying degrees of success. No coherent theme this time, just freewriting as it came to me. If I feel like it next time I'm going to pick a theme and stick with it because CHALLENGE.
Anywho...
Beautiful - Eminem
Cold, early morning breeze. The chill of the nippy air bit.
Overcast sky pregnant with clouds and fog.
That was a day hardly worthy of any sort of fanfare.
Yet despite its unremarkability that day was a day - the day that a king was crowned.
The removal of the sword from its stony prison was proof of that.
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Intense, roaring flames. Bloody orange fire mercilessly raged as the inferno tore through the city.
Hell on Earth...
The outcome of war...
This is where a nameless hero would die.
...and the place where a nameless hero would be born.
A sign of life glaringly absent amidst those charred ruins staring down joyously was the first thing the hero would see.
Then the hero fell asleep again. It was a rest the hero would deserve, for the new life the hero would have was to be full of ordeal and trial, pain and loss and emptiness.
Still, the promise of blessed sleep...how could any say no?
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Screams.
Deathroes.
Bellows of pain.
...the symphony of battle.
This was war on the legendary, epic level. The kind told of in tales.
But the tales always get it wrong.
Because war is not something that should be glorified or venerated or elevated.
A hero never wants to be one.
Necessary evil for the greater good. Taking life to protect life. That is the only option in war.
It is the duty of a king to take on those difficult, dehumanizing challenges. How could one be a true king otherwise unless they gave themself like that?
Others before them. No time for selfishness. That leads to mistakes.
And yet...
Why did that happen...
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Intense, searing pain.
The worst part was how repetitive it was. How routine the pain was.
Every night.
Every, single night. Like clockwork the torture would begin.
No. That was wrong...
The real worst part?
How it was all self-inflicted.
Self-sacrifice was relatable. But this was just selfish! The motivations may have been selflessly minded, but still-!
Why?
Why hurt yourself?
Don't do that anymore. Not in your own body. You only have one. It's not your duty to do that.
What obligation is there? What drives you.
No one understands.
It is not their place to do so.
...
...
...stop being so familiar.
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Betrayal?
Yes, that's what it is.
Betrayal of the worst kind. When family turns on one another there is absolutely no greater tragedy in the world.
Is this a familiar feeling? It is hard to say. Maybe? Maybe not. Maybe.
No way of knowing, now is there?
In the end, it all hurts and it's a terrible pain.
-------------------------------
Yes...
Betrayal......
It truly is a terrible pain.........
"Welcome home, ______. ."
She recites the lines, again and again.
Why she does so no one knows.
Who she does so for no one knows.
It's not as if anyone else will come to visit her.
Still, if the hope remains, if the chance exists, why not?
Practice forever and ever. Surely someone someday will.
If she is lucky it might be that someone.
Except it won't. That someone is gone.
Is it Real? - The Seatbelts
This city.
How important it was.
The answer to that rhetorical question: very.
One of the handful of strongholds for life on the ruined husk of a once proud, thriving planet, the city hosted a plethora of lifeforms. Beastlike A-Rays, grown as the new life that would inherit the planet from its former masters, varied in their unique shapes and bodies as snowflakes. The enhanced Liners, who originally meant to succeed the former masters but in turn fostered the new life that then turned on them in a devastating genocidally-driven civil war.
And...
A single, human man.
A human pure in body through and through, regardless of the alcohol or tobacco he would intake to deaden the pain and drudgeries of living in that land of steel.
Sanctuary though it may have been it was not immune from the Grain that had replaced the atmosphere, with the gaseous substance flowing through the almost-abandoned streets and virtually empty city blocks. Grain was a non-issue for the Liners and A-Rays, having been created with these sort of conditions in mind. But for the man...
The perpetual blood-red sky was anathema to his continued existence. Poison. Simply poison.
The man known as "Gun God" needed those pills just to live. As if his job of hunting angels were not already hard enough he had to make sure he had his medication in order to not choke on a morning breeze killing every cell in his body. If he felt like it he would have sealed himself away in his filtered apartment and never left again, forever isolating himself from the apathetic and harsh world that would make his death as painful as possible.
How could anyone live that way in that reality, let alone him?
After all, in that apartment that blonde, pretty little angel was waiting around for him all day long.
Blonde, pretty little tone-deaf angel.
Damned guitar.
Damned, damned guitar.
Perhaps he really ought to tutor her one of these days.
Such were Gun God's thoughts as he took aim and pulled the trigger, wasting one angel at a time with one bullet.
Why yes, if he imagined that each one of them was trying to play antiquitated rock on a musty old Gibson it was very therapeutic.
Baby, it's Cold Outside - Frank Loesser
"Justeaze, please..."
"I apologize, Zolgen. What's done is done. It is settled."
"Stay a little longer. I want you to. Don't make me beg you."
"I truly am sorry. But this is a decision that we must go through. All of us decided on this. Winter must come, after all."
"I know, I know! But never did I think I would be affected like this! There must be another way, there must. I'm a founder, too. I'll find a way to exploit any loopholes I find in the system."
"Zolgen, if there were a way we'd have surely opted for that."
"Because we didn't look hard enough! There must be a way! Don't do anything yet, let me refine the theory some more! I can do that!"
"Begging is unbecoming of you, Malchiri."
"Can't you see why?"
"Because the sacrifice of one of the founders is an unoptimal solution. I agree with that sentiment. But this is the best chance at achieving the ritual. You can understand, can you not?"
"You...you're the one who does not understand. You can't see, can you?"
"I can see we're one step closer. Do not worry for me, for I am not. This will be enough, so be strong for all the survivors."
"...Justeaze."
"...the time is nigh. I take my leave now."
"..."
"Please come to the ritual when you are able to."
White and Nerdy - Weird Al
Arihiko Inui hacked furiously at the keyboard, his fingers moving quickly. With each key struck another character was digitally inserted into the draft of the scenario.
His eyes flitted back and forth from the conceptual notes strewn messily across the desk - organized with some personal system that only he could possibly make heads or tails of amid the barely controlled chaos - to his current progress on the computer's screen, checking and double-checking the work constantly for plotholes, typos, and other errors.
Arihiko's eyes right now were not the eyes of a young adult plagued with unspoken anxiety in the face of urgent and unfinished work. No, that was the expression of a man who hand found his rhythm, one who was in the zone. He was calm; calm and at home in that zenlike state so essential for true creativity. The way Arihiko was now nothing could shake him.
But nothing did not necessarily mean no one.
From the corner of his eye - only for a moment - he glanced to his partner. The mousy girl a little ways from him hunched over intently, furiously scribbling and erasing away at the lineart. The sooner she could get these sprites done the sooner she would be in prime position to set herself up to begin work on over a dozen expressions required for each character. At her pace simple art like that would practically draw itself.
Her expression was unreadable, though her eyes burned with internal, controlled determination. She was stressed. But it was the healthy, wake-up-call sort of stress that provided excellent motivation if nothing else.
That was the way Seo Akira handled herself when it came to things like this: unafraid of the fire lit under her ass because of stress, relishing in fueling said fire to provide further incentive in order to keep the pressure on and stay focused.
She was an admirable girl.
Faced with the reaffirmation that was Seo Akira's work ethic, Arihiko's mind began to briefly wander. He did take care to keep up his level of work, however. Multitasking was something he had learned to become proficient with. It was strange to look back and think that he was nothing more than just a delinquent shortly before when he was still a high school student. But just because he had a certain reputation that did not mean he was exempt from having his own, entirely separate vices from said image. At least, that was what he considered them as.
Arihiko was a tough guy. He had red hair, he was a loudmouth who said what he thought and meant what he said, he busted a few chops and had his own busted as well a handful of times in kind (Not more than any busting he did. He'd be a shame of a delinquent otherwise). Yet if there was one thing that few really knew about Arihiko - and the clichedness of it was enough to even make him cringe at it - it was that his reality was a far harsher thing than what any of them could possibly know.
And that was...the shame of being a closet otaku.
It was true, and he was laughably self-conscious about it all the while.
Comics, cartoons, games, collectables and trivia and more - those were the true hobbies of Arihiko Inui. He went to great lengths to ensure no one else knew of his tastes for fear of being judged. He was not entirely sure how those anxieties came about, but that neurosis made him careful to keep any hint to his true nature under wraps at all times.
So when he stumbled across Seo Akira in a certain goods shop he was so embarrassed that he thought his world would end. Until she proposed an unusual deal with him sometime later in a discussion, that is.
As it turned out Arihiko was not just a gamer, or just a manga-goer, or just an anime-viewer. He himself was also a participant. It was just practice. A whim, a whimsy. Nothing meant to see the light of day. Nothing he intended to expose and reveal to others. It was, after all, just a hobby.
The fact remained that he still had something, and that something was still quite a something.
Seo (surprise, surprise) was actually an artist, and one with commercially-minded aspirations - albeit realistic ones. She had talent, undeniable promise as a future mangaka. Shifting trends and an unpredictable market made it hard to determine if it was the kind of talent others would find appealing but in the end it was all she had going for her. She wanted to at least try and put her talent to use and scratch away a living from it, heedless of failure or success.
Chances were slim, but chances were still chances. It was bleakly optimistic in philosophy but with neither of them having nothing else it only made sense to risk it all. No harm would even be done that much, considering there wasn't a lot to risk in the first place.
Simply put, this was a business deal.
"Experiment" was also an appropriate word, too.
His WPM slowed a little as he uncharacteristically reminisced on his reasons for shacking up with this girl, for the reasons why they spent hours and hours rushing themselves to meet strict deadlines for the upcoming event even though the work was only halfway done at best. He hadn't even noticed. Until he did, that is. One quick self-correction later and he was once again maintaining breakneck speed and ravaging his notes for material.
Still.
Still...
The reasons were
unromantic and very goal-minded. Platonic, even. This was a scheme, plain and simple, vying for reputation and money through distributed creative media. It was a contract between a wannabe artist and an amateur writer who bought their supplies with funds procured by hawking doujinshi and fanfiction at previous gatherings. It boiled down to masochistic self-indulgence and risk at their own expense.
Still.
Still...
Come hell or highwater, glory or shame, working on something with her wasn't all that bad, right?
"Heh. Heheheheh." Arihiko chuckled aloud even though he hadn't meant to. How else was a reasonable guy like him supposed to react to something so cliche yet genuinely heartfelt? Seemed like it made perfect sense.
"Is something wrong, Arihiko?" Seo asked politely as her eyes flicked over to where her partner sat, her pen still moving like a reed in the wind as it scratched at the paper.
"Nah," He replied. Keys continued to clack. "Nothing important. Or maybe it is. Dunno. I'll see later, won't I?"
"Oh. Okay then..." Seo trailed off, possibly unnerved by Arihiko's vagueness. It wouldn't be the first time he baited her, but to do so while in the middle of a work session was almost unheard of for him.
"Hey, Seo."
"Yes?"
"What are we gonna name our baby?"
Seo kept remained as composed as she could, though if a hint of a stutter did slip out it was unintentional. "Whatever do you mean by that?"
"Huh? What do you think I mean by that?"
"That's why I was asking in the first place."
"It's obvious, don't you think? C'mon Seo, get your mind out of the gutter."
"The 'gutter' talk isn't making me any less confused, Arihiko." Seo admitted.
"I gotta spell it out for you?" He sighed, "Fine, sure. What's the name of our group? That's what I wanna ask. We've done this much work together and still haven't decided on one yet?"
"So that's what you meant." Seo breathed a little more easily now that she knew. " 'Baby', that is."
"Uh, kind of. What else would I be talking about?"
Arihiko said this with an almost completely straight face. It wasn't like he intended that question to have any significant double meanings behind it or anything like that. Oh no, not one bit. It wasn't like he was deliberately trying to be cheeky or anything like that. Perish the thought.
"Actually, I'd given it a lot of thought and I'd like to hear your input on the names I've come up with. Assuming you don't agree with the name, that is..."
"I wouldn't know unless I hear it."
"Okay then. Tell me, what do you think of these......?"
And that was the day their "company" - after a brief debate - was christened. Celebration was not in order just yet, though. The not-quite a doujin group still had a sparse handful of weeks to go before they could start hawking their wares at the upcoming con.
For Arihiko Inui and Seo Akira, the founders of Variant-SOL, they could sleep when they were dead.
For the Love of Money - O'Jays
"Whaaaaat?! What the hell is this?!?" Rin Tohsaka's screechy wail could be heard all the way at the very back of the line.
"Nothing, miss." The teller replied, looking entirely apathetic and somewhat miffed at Rin's sudden, but justifiable outburst, " A whoooole lotta nothing in this account."
"What about the other one?!" Rin sputtered feverishly, tripping over her own words, "The other account thing!?"
"The checking account?"
"Yes! That one! What of it?!"
"What of it?" The annoyed teller replied. You've got nothing in that one, either. And You just asked that a minute ago. Why ask again?"
"There...there might have been some interest that accumulated."
"...interest totally does not work that way, you know."
"when will there be any interest?"
The teller shrugged derisively and seriously considered if knocking this girl senseless would be worth getting fired for breaking the "customer is always right" policy of the Fuyuki First Bank. "Ask again in...oh, I dunno, a year."
"A year?!" Screechy wail, again. You'd think once would've been enough to shred her vocal cords into ribbons.
"Yes. That's how interest works. Better yet, come back in fifteen years. Maybe by then if we haven't gone under you'll be able to collect a whopping 400 Yen."
Rin's panic subsided for the time being. For now it was replaced with the cool, calm aloofness that Rin prided herself in displaying. Too bad she was utterly transparent as a result of having had her minor meltdown in front of the entire bank. No one would be fooled this time around.
That and she was still visibly spamming with concealed rage about every five seconds. Win some and lose some, as men wiser than the all of us combined say.
"Tell me where all this money went. Tell me now so I can punish whoever or whomever is responsible. They can play this game as much as they want, they'll still rue the day they stole from a Tohsaka, and a Tohsaka alway repays her debts."
"That'd happen to be you, miss. All the transactions are in your name and were OK'd every time. To the last drop, too."
"Wait. Wait, wait, waitwaitWAIT. All the transactions?"
"All of 'em."
"So...I'm just a frivilous spender, then...?" Rin was thoroughly dejected by this realization.
"'fraid so, miss."
After a silence pregnant with awkwardness wafted into the bank and settled over Rin and the teller for a whole minute the cloud of trouble dispersed to parts unknown.
Because it was dispelled by an idea.
"You. Sir."
"What is it now, miss?"
"You're getting sleeeeepy~ You're getting veeeeery sleeeeepy~"
The teller rolled his eyes the moment the young woman whipped out the charms and began chanting in a ludicrous manner, as if she were actually expecting him to be enchanted by whatever magic she was trying to use.
They really did not pay him enough for this.
Meanwhile, a certain Luviagelita Edelfelt was laughing her head off like a noblelady-equivalent to a hyena.
Such a wonderful little thing, identity theft. Doubly so when rendered untraceable due to the application of certain magics.
Sorry for Party Rocking - LMFAO
"......"
"........."
"..."
"....."
"...nyah?"
"What did we just read, nyan?" One of the Neko-Arcs working at Ahnenerbe asked. Clearly it (she?) was thoroughly unimpressed by the material that came before the fourth-wall shattering segment that was this current snippet in the first arc.
"Ramblings. Mad ramblings of a madman. Who also happens to be crazy."
"Crazy enough to have their face sucked through a straw and live to tell you about it."
"That being said," The one with the auburn hairdo-like fur and the wealth of knowledge asked its fellow compatriots and China. "Can we find any good mainpoints to be on the lookout for?"
The cats began to ponder. It took them a whole minute of awkward silence to get things back on track. Then they waited for their sunblock to set in. But first the computer vote thing. When did cats vote, and why on computers, anyway?
"Well..." One cat spoke, utterly out of turn. "The first one had a minimalist storyelling vibe, nyan. I kind of liked it and its simplicity, less-words-is-more words kind of a way."
"It hurt to read." spoke another cat, "I was getting led on into believing that with mutual understanding the Master and Servant could get close together. Now it's even worse than that one ending! I'll never look at **** ****** the same again! The tears-! The tears flow freely like a river in the wild!"
"The bank teller one was my personal favorite." Admitted yet another cat. "Something about bureaucratic red-tape and the squirming of a perfectly healthy, otherwise happy living being as they break down into hopelessness. How could I resist?"
Before another cat could be questioned the door to Cafe Ahnenerbe was explosively kicked open. Bits of shattered wood and bent metal flew in an arc across the room before landing in the quiche combination. Standing there before them all was a man in a dark suit and a stern, controlled face. In each hand were three of the Holy Churches' executioner blades, the infamous, iconic black keys.
"Confirm this for me, cat," The man addressed the milk-drunk cat on the bar. "Did you say that you don't sell mapo tofu here in this store?"
"Nope. Not a bite." The dark cat said after taking a long drag from its cigarette and stared in the general direction of the man who asked. "Why do you ask?"
"I see." The priest replied. But then something absolutely awful happened at once, right then and air.
He smiled.
The Neko-Arc family of Ahnenerbe had never pain and torment like that ever before. Except for Neko-Arc Chaos because George Nakata.
Irrelevant. Kotomine got his mapo tofu in the ends, so who cares what else happened.
"You know what else stunk? This ending. What a weak way to end a snippet collect- nooo! Don't feed it to me, nyan!! I'll be a goooood caaaat!!!!"
...Because mapo tofu deserves to be shared.
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Originally Posted by Lycodrake
