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feriyen · 4 months

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Hello, again!

I took part in @lunarhillfunland's Fragile Dreams 15th Anniversary Project. This is my second piece based on the theme of together, which you can read at AO3 or below:

Our Hearts as One

When Shin visits, the snowy landscape of Sai's world in the facility changes.

Everywhere was white.

That couldn't be right. The walls were ivory on a normal day and the cabinets against them, a deep mahogany. Where were the colorful balloons painted on the canvas of those walls? The medicine bottles with bright caps behind the glass panes?

Disoriented by the hazy look of her surroundings, she looked down. Squinting, she vaguely made out the shape of her hand against the backdrop of the bed—black, she registered mutedly—on which she lay. She raised the same hand to rub her temple when a sharp sensation lanced through her head.

Sai groaned as she squeezed her eyes shut. What a pain.

The door shuttered. Sai lifted her head and opened her eyes to a blur of yet more white. Her heart skipped a beat at the gentle footfalls, soft in their unassuming nature.

"How do you feel, Sai?"

"Shin," started Sai. She surged forward to sit upright when the room spun. The ceiling flipped and she swayed, blinding lights spotting her vision, until long arms wound securely around her shoulders, steadying her.

"Careful. You'll fall if you move so suddenly," said Shin.

"Th-thank you . . . "

Some amount of careful wrangling later, Shin stepped aside with Sai propped up on a pillow at her back. Her gaze traveled up the muted green of his collared shirt to the striking red behind tinted shades, and she sighed.

"Your bandage is loose," said Shin, reaching over the side rail to pull the nylon mesh down and over the side of her head.

Somewhere inside her skull pricked from the touch. Still, Sai replied jovially, "I'm not used to wearing hats."

"Well, then you'll have plenty of practice here," said Shin, not unkindly.

"Are you here to give me my medicine today?"

"I am. Why don't we do that first?"

On a normal day, a stranger in white would hand even stranger pills for her to swallow and then leave. It was not rare, but still infrequent, for Shin to take on the task. Sai canted her head toward a shoulder, watching Shin's back curiously while he unlocked the medicine cabinet by the wall and rummaged through its shelves. He returned to her side with two small cups and offered the first, filled halfway with pills, then the second with water.

He pulled up to her bedside on a stool while she downed the pills with a generous helping of water. Like he always did on the days when he administered her medication, he procured a locket from his pocket after checking that she'd swallowed the drugs. Inside was a handful of candies and chocolates, one of which he always allowed her a pick. She chose a small packet of konpeito and held it up high, marveling at the colors before he took it back to tear the plastic open.

She tried the white candy first. While she rolled the bumpy sphere around in her mouth, humming in satisfaction, Shin rose from his set and said, "Wait here. I have something else to show you?"

Something else?

The door shuttered shut. Sai eyed the handle, still rolling the candy around with her tongue, and sat up straighter when it turned from the other side a moment later. There was another shutter, then a meow.

"Is that a cat?" asked Sai.

Shin paused. The cat nestled in his arm rested its head on the crook of his elbow, swishing its tail languidly. "Do you hate cats?"

Sai vigorously shook her head despite the discomfort brought on by the sudden jerking. "No, I like them! Especially white ones."

Truthfully, she was a pig person. Even so, she accepted the cat after it was deposited on her blanketed lap by Shin. The cat blinked once before stepping on her thigh—its claws had been trimmed perfectly—to nudge her arm with its head. She raised a hand to give it a tentative pat behind its ears.

"It's still in the preliminary stages, but has been cleared for a trial introduction," said Shin as if he were continuing an unspoken thought. Sometimes he moved to the beat of his own drum, though Sai hardly minded. "Once the project has progressed further with today's evolving technology, you'll be able to know its heart."

"So it's like a Glass Cage project for cats?" asked Sai.

"For them, and for you." Shin pushed his spectacles up with the tip of his middle finger, readjusting them on the bridge of his nose. "They'll keep you company when the scientists can't."

"If it's in the preliminary stages, does that mean this one's alone?"

"For now. We . . . must first ensure success with the prototype before producing more like it."

Sai hummed as she scratched the cat along its chin. It purred up a storm; together, they sang a strange duet of throaty sounds for another moment before she stopped scratching to gather the cat in her arms. She turned her head to smile up at Shin, ignoring the ache that, though dulled by the drugs she’d taken, radiated all along her body.

"Then I'll keep him company until he has friends of his own."

Shin's features went slack for a second before regaining their usual awkward bearing. He cleared his throat. "I'm certain he would like that."

Grinning, Sai lifted the cat by his pits. He hung from her grasp, slanted eyes blinking as they peered into hers, and she giggled at the resemblance. She held him close as a mother would her child, the surgical markings visible on her torso past the hem of her hospital gown obscured by his soft fur.

"Does he have a name?" she asked.

"Not yet. Why don't you give him one?" said Shin.

"I'll have to think about it. When will I see him again?"

"As he's still under strict surveillance, I am unable to leave him here overnight. I can bring him the next time I visit."

The next time might be days, if not weeks. Shin, as the head scientist of the Glass Cage Project, was an incredibly busy man. In the time it took him to make another personal visit, there would be more cords plugged into her head, more strange medicine prescribed, and more markings made on her skin with the promise of a scalpel in artificial sleep. All that awaited in the interim were the numbering pain and overwhelming whiteout.

For all that, Sai nodded and relished the cat's rhythmic purring with Shin's kind gaze on her.

"I'll definitely have a name by then, so don't forget to bring him with you, okay?"

Shin's thin lips curled into a faint smile. "I will. Thank you, Sai . . . for bearing with everything until then."

#writing #fragile dreams #shin #sai

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feriyen · 5 months

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Happy new year!

I took part in @lunarhillfunland's Fragile Dreams 15th Anniversary Project. This is my first piece based on the theme of campfire, which you can read at AO3 or below:

Under the Moonlight

The fire dies down after a conversation late into the night, but Seto doesn't fear the dark with Ren's hand in his.

In the late hours after twilight, Seto tensed as the parking lot in which they'd chosen to hole up for the night was suddenly plunged into darkness mid word from Ren. The smell of smoke wafted through the cooling air. Seto brought his arms behind him, moving to prop himself up.

“The fire went out," he said. "Wait here, Ren. I'll gather some more firewood."

He reached into the bag at his side for the flashlight when something warm and soft fell over his hand, halting him in his tracks.

"It's okay," said Ren. No longer seated in front of the campfire with her thin arms wrapped around spindly legs, she was leaning in close from the proximity of her voice. She scooted closer and groped around Seto’s knuckles, holding him in place before he could click on the light. "I can still see you."

Seto lowered the flashlight. Heat radiated from Ren as she sidled up to him and pressed their sides together. She rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her hand around his until their palms met, twining their fingers together, while he leaned into the touch with a quiet sigh.

"How does it look?" asked Seto.

"Like the moonlight," replied Ren.

"The moonlight?

"You feel like the moon." Ren's head shifted on Seto's shoulder as she peered up at the night sky through the open space near the basement parking lot’s ceiling. The towering skyscrapers in the distance obscured the moon from view, allowing just a few beams of gentle dusky light to brush the surface ground beyond the gap. More felt than seen, Ren's hand rocked his. "If I could touch it."

"You sang about that when we first met, didn't you? The moon was round and bigger than usual, and you were there."

Closing his eyes, Seto reminisced of a season past when the night had been blue and the moon, a beacon to those in search of other warm bodies. When even the cicadas had gone to sleep, Ren had answered his quiet prayer in song. Back then, he had touched her face for fear of the cold; now, they shared in one another's warmth with an air of contentment shrouded over them like a blanket.

"I did. I sing every night the moon is full," said Ren.

"Do you suppose the moon is full tonight?" asked Seto, craning his neck toward the gap overhead.

"It is."

"How can you tell?"

Ren raised her head and pulled away. Inwardly mourning the loss, Seto glanced over his shoulder to make out the shadowy contours of Ren's delicate face while she stared at him. Their hands sat in the space between them, still joined by their palms.

"I can feel it. The moon I'm holding is full. Isn't that how you feel, Seto?"

Seto's hand tingled in Ren's. His heart swelled and he gave a jaunty nod. "It is. It's really full!"

They smiled among themselves in the darkness, where they basked in each other's silent company when Seto asked, "Are you full, too, Ren?"

"I am," replied Ren. She dragged her feet across the concrete floor and drew her knees up to her chest. "Ever since we could touch and see each other."

"I see you." Seto pressed closer, urgent in his advance to prove as much. "I see you more clearly than ever."

"Me too."

Ren dipped down. She twisted to lie on her back with her head laid on Seto's lap, releasing his hand long enough to adjust for the change in position. Even in the looming darkness, Seto made out the fine lashes of silver that curtained her round eyes. Her hand was warmer where his had gone cool, and he glanced at the remains of the campfire before them.

"Are you going to be okay without the fire?" asked Seto.

"Yeah," said Ren, simply. She cocked her head. "Are you?"

"I'm a little cold . . . but it's warm with you here," said Seto.

"You're not afraid of the dark?"

"No." Seto looked down with a smile. "Because everything is brighter now. It's not as dark anymore."

The words to Ren's song rang distantly in his mind. His gaze drew up to the gap where the moonlight had inched forward to graze the edge of the parking lot, so close yet so far. "I wonder if the moon feels the same way. If it shines so brightly in order to find someone to hold . . . "

Ren's free hand came up to rest on Seto's face. She caressed him, not unlike the way he had caressed her on their first meeting amid his panic that she’d fallen to her death. Seto reached up to grasp her impossibly warm hand.

"That shine led me to you. I don't know where I'd be now if it weren't for that,” he said.

"You'd be here," said Ren, "since you promised to find me."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Seto tightened his grip and hummed. "I did. And I'll keep that promise for as long as I'm alive."

"I'm glad. . . . Thank you, Seto."

Seto leaned in, and they embraced unlike the moon rose higher into the night, taking the last of its fading light with it.

"Hey, Ren."

"What is it, Seto?"

"Could you sing that song again? The moon went away, but it's full. I want to learn it, so that I can sing it for you someday."

"For me?"

"Yeah, because you're full, too—and your light is warmer and more beautiful than any campfire or flashlight. I won't interrupt you this time, so . . . could you sing it again?"

"Hee hee. Okay. I'll sing for you."

Ren's voice, as sweet and frail as she appeared, drifted through the darkness like a lovely lullaby. It resounded off the large walls of the dilapidated lot, beckoning for the lonely moon in an echoing chorus. Seto closed his eyes again and imagined Ren in the vast openness of the city exterior, her body reflected on the surface of a pool of water beneath her as she twinkled radiantly under the moon's watchful gaze.

Oh, round white moon, Oh, how beautiful your light is tonight. How truly precious you can be. I look into your eyes and softly touch your hand. Farewell, love, and tomorrow we will meet again. Oh, twinkling star above, How beautiful yet lonesome. As sad and lonesome as I am . . . I reach out for your hand. We are two and one. Farewell, my love—

Ren's hands were warm like the moon's embrace. Eventually her voice ebbed while Seto's head bobbed from the effort to keep upright. It wasn’t long before they drifted off to sleep in a loose embrace, slumbering to rise and meet each other again in the daylight.

#writing #fragile dreams #seto #ren

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feriyen · 6 years

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When did World Trigger take over my life so thoroughly? I’m kind of embarrassed.

Please visit this post for details!

#ar tonelico #one piece #tales of legendia #world trigger #sales post

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feriyen · 7 years

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Oh . . . I love this so much!? It’s everything I wanted and more. You have a lovely style; I especially like the way you drew Nino and Inukai’s expressions! Thank you, thank you! The wait was absolutely worth it.

Tsuji can have all the cream puffs he wants, but let Nino have some for the challenge, too. I think Inukai’s response to that resounding “no” is what gets me the most.

Thank you again! Have a wonderful rest of the new year!

For the 2016 World Trigger Secret Santa!

Happy belated holidays @feriyen! I have recently been assigned your new Secret Santa, and for your gift, I drew you a (very) short comic on Nino Squad. I’m also a big fan of Team Moe. I hope I did them justice!

Bonus comic:

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feriyen · 7 years

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Thirty

… so it sort of took me an hour to figure out how to post this on tumblr… But yes! World Trigger Secret Santa fic for @MySinCave. Just something fluffy! I’m really sorry for how late this is, aaaaa. Hope you had a great holiday!

Fandom: world trigger Rating: general audiences Warnings: none Relationships: very light Izumi/Yoneya Characters: Izumi Kouhei, Yoneya Yousuke, mentions of Tachikawa

Keep reading

#lamplighter #world trigger

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feriyen · 7 years

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@imakeideasnotart

Happy holidays! I’m your World Trigger secret santa. I was thrilled to receive you as my giftee; Yoneya/Miwa is my preferred ship for the involved characters, too. Anyway, I wrote you a fic that you can read under the cut or here at AO3, which also contains notes at the end. I hope you enjoy!

What’s Bugging You?

Lightning and bugs (and by loose association, insects) were polar opposites. One was loud and big, while the other was quiet and small. By all rights, they had nothing in common - except for the fact that Yoneya could refer to either one as his deep, dark mortal enemy. Neighbors had nothing on them, because trion soldiers didn’t compel him to pray to all the higher beings he knew of to make the “bad things” go away.

And if there was anyone who knew about Yoneya’s deep, dark mortal enemies, it was Miwa, who approached him that afternoon following a squad meeting. Tsukimi and Kodera had already left, and Narasaka was gathering his belongings.

“Yosuke, did you see the news?” asked Miwa.

“Yeah, a little.” If he strained his ears, Yoneya could practically hear the rain that would be hitting the walls of headquarters hours from now. “I heard it's going to be pouring.”

“Want to come over?”

“Huh?”

“There’s probably going to be thunder,” said Miwa. He volunteered no more after that: Yoneya understood his own fears better than anyone.

Yoneya shuddered. “Ah, man. You just had to say that. Think it’ll be noisy this time around?”

He could have sworn that, last time the weather had been stormy, the lightning had clapped thunderously right next to his window with the sole intent of scaring away ten years of his life. It wasn’t being struck by lightning that scared Yoneya so much as the suddenness of its booming entrance, by far worse than a horror movie where a deformed face would lunge at the screen (a cheap attempt at a scare that, predictably, did nothing for him and served only to make the bullet idiot laugh, because Izumi was that weird).

In the end, Yoneya took the invitation. He also turned around and invited Narasaka for an evening of music, and he also could have sworn that Narasaka had paused for a fraction of a second to process that request. Miwa didn’t protest the extra body; as it turned out, Yoneya still couldn’t keep a tune while Narasaka could.

There was a piano in the living room that Miwa’s sister had played before the first Neighbor invasion. Miwa had inherited it since, and he’d play with Narasaka on music nights appointed by Yoneya, who preferred the instrument known as “himself.” Narasaka thought he was inconspicuous, but Yoneya always caught the incredulous look on his face whenever the subject of instruments came up in a conversation that included them.

Yoneya was a terrible singer. He knew it, but he continued to sing anyway, no matter how much Narasaka’s poker face crinkled at every wrong note, because it was fun.

“No matter which way I put it, you’re off-key,” said Narasaka.

“Seriously? Is it that bad?”

“You’ll get it if you keep practicing,” said Miwa, not unkindly.

Yoneya clutched his chest. “It’s super effective!”

“What happened to the lessons I recommended?” asked Narasaka.

“It’s not like I’m singing to join a competition,” said Yoneya. “Did you want to start a band or something?”

Narasaka didn't take a second to consider the idea. “Between the three of us, it’s not viable.” After all, Yoneya couldn’t sing to save anyone’s life - although if given the choice, he'd try if it meant somehow saving Miwa; Narasaka, the sniper superstar, could probably save himself.

The doorbell rang, spurring Yoneya on to jump onto his feet. Narasaka raised his head, and Miwa looked over his shoulder in the general direction of the door.

“Must be the blockhead!”

As Yoneya dashed for the door, Narasaka turned to Miwa.

“It’s Izumi,” said Miwa, and Narasaka turned back to his guitar with a knowing nod.

At the door, Izumi thrust a sports bag at Yoneya’s chest.

“Here. You owe me for all the walking I had to do!”

Gathering the bag in his arms, Yoneya offered a wry smile. “Come on; it wasn’t even that long of a walk.”

“Then why didn’t you grab them yourself? They’re your clothes.”

“Well, about that,” started Yoneya, pausing when he heard footsteps behind him and their own stepped past. “Oh, Narasaka. You’re leaving?”

Narasaka, who was packed with the strap of his guitar case strung over his shoulder, nodded. “It’s getting late. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gave Izumi a curt nod. “Izumi.”

“Hey, Narasaka. Did this idiot get you to bring his voice box?”

“Fortunately, he knows how to pack that on his own.”

“You know, I’m still here,” said Yoneya.

As Narasaka was about to make his retort, he stopped amid forming the first syllabic sound. Blinking, he looked up at the sky. Beside him, Izumi voiced a soft exclamation as a small drop of water splashed on his cheek.

“Oh, yeah. It’s supposed to rain tonight,” he said, wiping the droplet of water away.

“It was cloudy all evening. You should get going while it’s dry,” said Narasaka. He shifted with his shoulder pointed in Yoneya's direction. “Sleep well.”

“You, too. Make sure this blockhead doesn’t slip on any puddles, will you?”

Not one to have his pride wounded, Izumi shot Yoneya a challenging smirk. “Next time we do a rank match, I’m shooting your feet first; then we’ll see who slips.”

Yoneya was vaguely reminded of the most recent invasion, when he and Miwa had been struck with slick goo. Back then, he'd thought it would be a spectacular idea to try dancing - led on by the fact that he could spin better on the slime - and had summarily crashed into Miwa, sending them spiraling down the street.

He smiled. “You’re on.”

Once they were settled in Miwa’s room for the night, the both of them prepared to sleep on their respective cot on the floor, Yoneya turned to Miwa and asked, “So what’s the real reason you invited me over?”

In the middle of pulling the blanket over his body, Miwa paused. Yoneya, who was already quite comfortable under his borrowed covers, rolled over onto his side.

“Come on, Shuji. I’m not deaf.” He was tone deaf, but he could hear everything else just fine. “Even when Narasaka was here, you were kind of quiet.”

“We were playing music.”

“Yeah, but were you listening to him? I know he’s our sniper, but he was seriously taking shots at me today. I think he was trying to get you to join in.”

If Toma was the lackadaisical coworker in the sniping department, then Yoneya was perhaps his counterpart in the musical field of Narasaka’s company. If Narasaka weren’t so patient, Yoneya was sure he’d have been strangled on more than one occasion to shut him up during a butchered song.

“Man, he can be real harsh sometimes. Anyway, what’s bugging you?”

Inwardly, he cringed at his word of choice.

Even in spite of being cornered, Miwa was not one to talk right away. He rested his hands on the bunched layers of the blanket gathered at his waist, seemingly deliberating his response.

“It’s nothing,” he said, himself sounding unconvinced of his answer. “Last night was a little difficult.”

Pulling his arm free from under his blanket, Yoneya rested his head on the palm of his hand with a propped elbow. “Oh. Was it a nightmare?”

Yoneya was no stranger to Miwa’s bedroom, just as Miwa wasn’t to Yoneya’s. For his part, Yoneya didn’t change the way he behaved when Miwa opened his most personal space up - there was something to be said for consistency - and that was why he didn’t stand to feign attention; nor did he press the matter, as Miwa moved at his own pace. The silence that loomed in the air wasn’t uncomfortable, but thoughtful as Miwa put the words together in his mind.

At last, Miwa asked, “There were no casualties in the last invasion, were there?”

“Nope. Everyone was accounted for, too.” Yoneya counted to six, then added: “You sleepy? We can play a game or something.”

Shaking his head, Miwa lay down and brought his blanket up to his chin. “It’s fine.”

However, while Miwa seemed to have no trouble going to sleep with another body nearby, Yoneya was troubled by the distant rumbling in the rain that tagged Miwa’s window rhythmically. No more than twenty minutes had passed when the first lightning struck close enough to rock his senses - like the knock of a ten-foot-tall giant who didn’t realize how loud he was on the door - and he sighed.

“Shuji, you awake?” He heard the shifting of fabric next to him. “Let’s play a game.”

“All right.”

The following noon, Miwa stopped Yoneya in his tracks to remind him about taking his bag home. The idea of going back to his residence dredged up a matter he'd abandoned between the sleepover to the present. His mind was suddenly assailed with racing thoughts.

“Uh, about that . . . “ Yoneya slid his hand into his pocket, feeling for his phone. “I’ll get back to you in a sec.”

With his back turned to Miwa, he scrolled down his list of contacts, stopping once he saw “Blockhead,” whom he sent a message: can i ask for 1 more favor

> what do you want now

check my room

> what > im not your mom

listen this is important to me

> its your room?? why do i have to do it

ill give you back your notes

> those notes are mine > you cant keep them from me > fine > what am i even checking

its green

> green????

mom will let you in so check it out for me ok thanks

> i swear if this is some kind of a prank im gonna drill you full of holes > you owe me a week of croquettes

“Yosuke?” Miwa’s voice cut through the relief surging through Yoneya, who turned around with a casual smile that came more naturally to him.

“Okay, I’ll pick it up later.”

> dude > how did this get in your room

Yoneya must have been stricken as visibly on the outside as he felt inside, as Miwa called his name. He powered off the screen of his phone and craned his neck to meet Miwa’s inquisitive look.

“Oh, sorry. Did you say something?”

“Why did you come over?” asked Miwa, and Yoneya was quite sure that that wasn’t what he had originally said.

“Huh?”

“You’re acting oddly. Did something happen at home?”

Yoneya was caught between a rock and a hard place. But perhaps this was his chance, and he took it with a weak laugh. Since he was granted the opportunity, he thought, he should take it before Miwa sped away with the golden goose.

“Jeez, it wasn’t anything like that. I came over, because you asked me.” He pocketed his phone. “But it’s true that there’s something at home . . . or, actually, my room.”

“What?”

“ . . . mantis,” muttered Yoneya.

Miwa's brow furrowed. “Yosuke?”

“It’s a praying mantis! I saw it in my room yesterday morning.”

“How did a praying mantis get inside your room?”

“Trust me; everyone’s asking that question, including me. It’s still there.”

As a teenager at the ripe age of seventeen, Yoneya possessed a significant amount of pride, although it wasn’t petty like Izumi’s. The proud part of him was not wounded, but ashamed, to go into the next room and tell his blessed grandmother about the green monster under his bed. There were things a man was obligated to do, even if it took days for him to muster up the courage to confront the insect touring the darkest nooks of his estate.

Practically tearing up and faced against Miwa’s stony stare, Yoneya pouted. If Miwa wanted to be indirect, then so would he.

Without so much as blinking, Miwa walked ahead. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“My home. We’re getting your bag and going to your place.”

Yoneya’s heart skipped a beat. “Does that mean . . . ”

“Tell Izumi he doesn’t have to stay.”

“Ah. Cool.”

As it turned out, Miwa was more concerned for the mantis trapped in Yoneya’s room. He ordered for a jar and a cloth to be brought as Yoneya hovered by the doorway, caught in a staring contest with the mantis that had come out to apparently welcome him home like a tiny troll. Yoneya did as he was told, and Miwa courageously coaxed the mantis into the sizable jar to be released outside.

As the praying mantis stalked away, Yoneya said, “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver!”

“Next time, just tell me.”

He nodded and, with heartfelt seriousness, said, “You’re a good guy.”

At that, Miwa turned his face away. If there was the slightest blush on his cheeks from the sudden flattery, Yoneya didn’t say - too busy he was rejoicing the liberation of his room, as well as concocting a plan to keep Izumi’s lips sealed on the green discovery. Then a thought occurred to him.

"Since you're here, want to sleep over for tonight?"

"Sure."

#world trigger secret santa 2016 #imakeideasnotart #writing #world trigger #miwa shuji #yoneya yosuke #narasaka toru #izumi kohei

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feriyen · 8 years

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feriyen · 8 years

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Ulania's negotiations addressed what was wrong about how she was being treated: She shows she isn't naive about their thoughts, exercises power by giving official status with conditions attached, and her demanding no more secrecy allows her to have knowledge she lacked earlier. The NPCs are written to have been in the wrong. On the other hand, backlash for their behavior was lacking, and that's where I think the quest should have gone with a different scenario from the start, so that there wouldn't be this incongruous outcome between Ulania's resolution and the fan club's actions. It's easy to take at face value that stalking and objectification are acceptable with the way things turned out, even though that's not what the game was probably trying to say, which is where I understand your grievance with it stems.

I don't think she admires the freedom of speech so much as she does the spirit of the people in being able to find something to be happy about during rough times, which she wants to cherish. This is good and bad - bad, because they're expressing happiness about something that objectifies her appearance. It goes back to the quest's strong direction for her character, but weak solution for the other issue the game dragged into the heart of the matter.

The game was very optimistic about how these matters were handled, which poses inherent problems when Ulania’s character design was clearly engineered with fanservice in mind. I just wanted to share what I thought was an attempt at something well-intentioned and having it implode a little instead, because the wrong platform, which was unavoidable due to said character design, was used.

Anyway, Ulania really was a pleasant surprise! Considering the amount of sex appeal her character design alone has, I had no idea what to expect, but she turned out to be wonderful.

To make matters worse about 7D3 is that Ulania… Is extremely naive and unaware exactly how harmful the people who are fetishizing her are.

There’s that sheer fact she’s treated like she’s really stupid and naive that really bothers me… Ulania isn’t stupid, she’s clearly a smart cookie considering she forged a freaking greatsword without any blacksmithing knowledge. Not to mention rule an entire civilization, even in sub-modern Tokyo when her direct descendants don’t exist because her people died eons ago.

Ulania isn’t dumb, and she’s not that naive… But the game treats her like she is, when it least benefits her.

She literally has quests / storyline where people are openly sexualizing her and even invading her personal space for their fetishes… And she instead forgives them and allows them to continue it… Eigur’s canonically kinda dumb and really naive, but even he knew it was extremely bad, even if she wasn’t his queen.

Even though it goes completely against her character, there are ugly loopholes in her plot for the sake of telling otakus “it’s okay to fetishize women who may not know better, and take advantage of their naivety for your own technical sexual conquest. Even if you get caught, they’ll forgive you and even let you keep doing it!”

So her existence perpetuates the idea that sleazing after vulnerable women (which Ulania admittedly is, considering she’s eons in the future after her kingdom literally collapsed into the sea) is great n cool n okay n not harmful…

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feriyen · 8 years

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I absolutely understand your frustration with the way this quest was handled, but I want to coin my opinion that the quest was not about approving the fetishization of women. It was about showcasing Ulania's heart as a ruler who thinks of the people after everything her own citizens had to endure. I don't think the game treats her like she's dumb or naive.

When Ulania first goes outside with Eigur's insistence, she's bombarded with lewd comments about her appearance that are questionable and vulgar in nature. She herself is aware of this, because she tells Unit 13 that the words and actions of Tokyo's people are "uninhibited." However, she's glad to see how lively the people are after she was just rescued from a situation where all her citizens felt for so long was hopelessness.

During the stalker quest, she listens to what the "fan club" has to say about secretly taking photos of her and lying about it. She declines to punish them on the basis that she would rather nurture what small comfort they've found than crush it in a divisive act, because the world is in a turbulent state; from her personal experience of powerlessness during Atlantis’ fall, she prizes hope and unity in the people. More importantly, she enacts subtle negotiation with the members:

She questions if their thoughts about her come from "a dark place." They answer that their thoughts don't, and she rewards them by making their fan club official.

She commands them to stop acting in secrecy. In doing so, she will reward them by making herself more publicly available for interaction.

Ulania promotes communication, takes control of the situation, and quietly addresses the fan club's behavior. She scrapes away the negative aspects by rewarding promised behavior that will correct what they were doing wrong. She has power: As the authority, she has full rights to revoke official status should the fan club go astray again. All in all, she handles the situation with the utmost maturity and fairness.

In summation, Ulania strives to do her part as a royal regardless of the era, and she has the ability to understand people fundamentally. The quest was about showing this side of Ulania as she continues to advocate for the people as a queen does, even long after her kingdom's demise, and she doesn’t necessarily let herself be streamrolled.

Were the stalkers' actions questionable? Absolutely. Should they have been punished? Yes! There are repercussions to actions that disrespect others; however, that isn't what the quest was about, and that's where the last question comes in - could there have been a better situation to highlight Ulania's thoughtfulness as a ruler? Yes, no contest there. But I want to stress that none of this means that Ulania is naive or that her existence is meant to demean vulnerable women.

Sorry that this got long, and sorry for dredging up an old post. I just wanted to share how I interpreted the quest, whose entire premise I can agree was overkill.

To make matters worse about 7D3 is that Ulania… Is extremely naive and unaware exactly how harmful the people who are fetishizing her are.

Ulania isn’t dumb, and she’s not that naive… But the game treats her like she is, when it least benefits her.

#flannoit

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