YOU JUST WON'T BACK DOWN.

ONCE I GET BACK ON THE TRACK,  AND WHEN I START WALKING AGAIN, SILVER // PKMN. – i will take you down.

[usedtm-blog]

{ @aggresseur }

               “Aren’t you cold without a jacket?”

Kotone smiled smugly at the redhead. She had warned him to take a jacket along today.. But he just didn’t listen. “I told you it was going to be cold!” There was a change in weather and the city was beginning to become quite chilly. “If you ask me REALLY nicely.. Maybe I’ll let you hold my hand!” The brunette was teasing, of course. 

It was so much fun to tease Silver. He took everything so seriously, even now. “Anyway…” Even though it was a blast to poke fun at the boy, Kotone did feel a bit guilty. She was happy he came along. “Thanks for coming out here with me today! If you didn’t show up I would’ve been looking at these trees all alone.” To an extent that was a small lie. She’d have her pokemon with her, of course… But she was still happy Silver decided to show up.

               “Isn’t the change in scenery just beautiful? The trees look so pretty!”

[aggresseur-blog]

Countless places in a world that puts Celadon and Goldenrod to shame, stomps all over Unova’s reputation and doesn’t lack options to entertain someone for the years they are going to spend here-- 

-- and she chooses the goddamn trees. 

Silver rolls with her provocation by sending her a mercilessly cold glare, keeping the biting insults to himself for the time being. The cold doesn’t bother him as much as the very idea of watching leaves fall pointlessly -- with or without her, although she doubtlessly adds weight to the situation. It’s not poetic, not beautiful, not the kind of thing he’s used to do; not in their world, not here. The shimmering arcade lights and sophisticated atmosphere of the shopping centers are way more attractive than this. 

And it’s just like him to let her know that.

“Didn’t have anything else to do,” he drawls, rolls his eyes, makes sure to leave it as clear as daylight. They’re past insults and physical violence, but too far from mutual positive friendship -- his fault, of course, standoffish as ever. “The cold isn’t that bad. Wait a few more weeks, and you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

“By the way, what’s so great about watching trees.”

[cruuiser-archive-deactivated201]

but it hasn't even been a day (intro/open)

[cruuiser-archive-deactivated201]

Got that right.

Whatever ‘hydro pump’ means, one look at Cranky over there says it all. The creature is up, fiercer than ever (and she might have commended it for that spirit, had this been any other situation). Tenryuu notes the terse twitch traveling up its legs, to its neck and massive jaw. She’s more than ready for Round 2, but experience says God be damned if she didn’t move – right then, right now.

Reflexively hurling herself to the side, the pressurized torrent blasts straight past her shoulder. She stumbles, slides, lets her knees slam the dust and her palm scape the ground, but falling, usually that won’t happen on the open sea unless you’re dying or nearly dead. 

Tenryuu is neither of those. She’ll never let herself be either of those, so long as blood can trickle to her heart and back. 

“Tch!” She leaps back to her feet, cursing, ignoring the rumbling collapse of a wall some 20 meters away. That isn’t her problem. What matters is this lizard’s still up and standing, and so is its red-haired master. Clearly punches don’t quite cut it; kicks, they probably won’t work either.

What does that leave? 

Before she can even process the answer, she’s recklessly bolting forwards – again – one arm to the side, the other gripping one of the metal ‘ears’ by her head. They aren’t real sharp, instead are dull and too bizarre. Bizarre’s good. It suits her, and it suits what she tries to do next. Object in hand, she snaps her wrist back in preparation to thrust, sink the pointed end into Feraligatr’s abdomen. 

If this doesn’t work –

Then try, and try again.

[aggresseur-blog]

They are from two different worlds in which the basic rules for surviving one more day among bigger and scarier threats are the same. 

You can’t fall down. 

Fall, and cannons and torpedoes will be pointed at your face from every possible direction. Fall, and monsters twice your size will load their most powerful attacks and mark you with a loss that you could have avoided with a better strategy and a rigid training schedule.

Silver isn’t having any of that. 

This girl is a bitch, simple and easy, but diverging from how he refers to Ariana as such with everlasting bitterness seeping through the syllabes or how Kotone receives the insult after a shrug and a biting, sarcastic remark to one of her ridiculously bad attempts to socialize with him. She’s a bitch to knock down, to read, to beat, and he is somewhere in between smirking in satisfaction for finding an adequately difficult battle that doesn’t involve the two he’s supposed to call his friends, Lance or the harsh climate of the colder regions and allowing the sweat to fall off his face to acknowledge her persistence. 

Persistence that leads her to act brashly to surprise him. 

Feraligatr stumbles back and he doesn’t understand what is going on. It is only after the second or third attempts to stab through Feraligatr’s thick skin that he catches on. Silver knows that his kicks were enough to harm his companion when they were younger and angrier; it doesn’t take a smart person to realize enough of whatever she is using will cause more harm than it should. It is having some effect, as the pokemon whimpers and gets confused enough for uncertainty to settle down.

Wrong move.

“That’s the shittiest way to cheat,” he spits, face struggling to settle between a disparaging sneer and the angriest of scowls. The reptile looks back at him with as much fury as his own trainer withholds, and knows what it means when the redhead nods. No use sparing her from damage. She won’t accept a peaceful solution, and he won’t offer one.

One moment and the monster is swiveling its body with a closed fist prepared to break through anything he decides to punch. The next-- 

-- it attempts to hurl the balled up hand at the kanmusu with as much strength as possible.

“At least do it right.” 

[socialprocessing-blog]

greet()

aggresseur

Well, it’s been a long, productive day of wandering the city (and making an acquaintance or two in the process). But now, Sybil’s worn right out, and ready to collapse into her nice, warm bed in her apartment overlooking all of Cloudbank. Of course, that’s not exactly feasible at present, so instead she’ll have to settle for… whatever her housing here is like.

So she catches the next train to Sector 4, spends a little while exploring some neighborhoods that catch her interest. She might even have spent longer out, until she passed by an alleyway and heard some sort of inhuman snarling.

Sybil hightailed it home, after that.

And when she sweeps into the apartment, she doesn’t dwell on the strange appliances lining the kitchen (will she have to cook for herself? how archaic!), nor the rows of doors along the walls. She simply tosses her parasol into the corner -though she should really be more careful, flimsy as this cheap plastic version of her weapon is. Then, she plops down onto the couch, kicking her feet up on the coffee table.

Now that she thinks of it, she’d love to introduce her precious Fetch to their new home- even if the mechanical dog spends most of her time in the Backdoor pocket dimension Sybil created (though, oddly enough, she hasn’t been able to access it since arriving in Hive City). 

“Nokta! C’mere, girl!” Out of seemingly nowhere, a dog of unusually metallic composition jumps onto the sofa next to Sybil, cuddling up to her. She nuzzles her cheek against her pet for a moment, but that’s all- because barely a second later, the door swings open, and in walks a redhead who’s more than likely Sybil’s new roommate.

Unfortunately, he’s now got a massive robotic dog growling at him, looking like she’d be more than happy to wipe him out if Sybil gives the command. What a way to make a first impression!

[aggresseur-blog]

The thing about getting new roommates is exactly that. 

They’re new. 

And as much as Silver is rather fond of new things -- new pokemon, new devices, new games --, he can’t say people apply to his list of things he’d like to see coming in and out of his housing. Some of them are the worst, some of them are quiet enough, but others just come at him with rabid robotic dogs ready to maim him into scraps of human meat as tiny as Caterpie eggs.

Not that his Feraligatr is any better. 

But at least he’s not always growling.

“What,” is his greeting word, stark and cold and as far from friendly as possible. Nonetheless, he doesn’t shove her off, doesn’t walk to his room again like he doesn’t care. Silver unzips his jacket and throws it over his shoulder, opening the door further so his own protective “monster” can come in; a bipedal reptile who stares at Sybil with the laziest expression of sunny friendliness a monster an offer. 

And he’s still glaring at her -- no, the thing nuzzling into her. 

“If your dog tries to bite me, Feraligatr won’t hesitate to break it into pieces.”

[hizokko-deactivated20180823]

🔱 (-D E L I V E R A N C E-)

aggresseur:

🔅IT STARTS out like a drum, soft and muffled, interspersed with regular, rhythmic pauses.

Thump.

There’s a hollow element to the sound, not of skin against wood, but something…heavier, echoing against a fragile obstruction.

THUMP.

🔅THE FORCE of the blow, though held in check by its owner, is no less rough; layers of dust drift down from the ceiling, and the furniture in the room trembles with each fresh assault.

THUMP.

Strangely enough, there is nothing in K-4 to suggest the origin of such a sound. If one were to trace it to the source, they’d reach the curtained windows of a certain trainer’s room.

      THUMP.

🔅AT EXACTLY twenty-three minutes past four AM, the glass gives way with a terrific–

                                            !!…CRACK..!!

–splintering the visage of the figure on the other side.

〔 … 〕

🔅IT IS barely dawn when Arceus breaks Silver’s bedroom window while floating outside his apartment. Large, red eyes stare critically at the damage, before head-butting the glass one last time. 

                                                  CRUNCH.

Somewhere in the background, the sound of wailing sirens draw closer to the building.

[aggresseur-blog]

Two years have passed since he’s arrived. 

In this period of time, Silver has acquainted himself to the virtual world of this universe; things are different there, reports of monstrous apparitions and blood-soaked sanctuaries dedicated to obscure deities glossing over the notices about sneaky Haunters and Gastlies haunting houses and people. They talk about how an unknown God appears sporadically to a few chosen ones, too: speaking about doom and calamity and a warning for the skeptical.

He wonders if these deities can be any less subtle than his. 

Sneasel, Zubat and Feraligatr -- they all draw closer to the window past the first thump. Silver stands up as the second echoes, tells them to shut up after the third, and when he arrives at his bedroom to see what is going on. 

The face of a monster greets him. 

Not a monster, a god, the creator of his world; it makes him feel nervous, legs shaky, breaking into a cold sweat, but he regains the composure after seeing his window turning into shards of what once protected him from random invasions and mischievous midnight creatures. Silver attempts to keep his tone and height even, but his three companions are staring at the creature, fixated, unmoving. It is when he decides to open his mouth, finally.

“...you,” he clears his throat, hesitant. “Arceus? What the--” 

You can’t curse gods, even when they break their way through your room, can you?

[aggresseur-blog]

You’ll know all lines and bondaries have been crossed and made into ropes to play with when the scientists bring the god of your world to this place.

[aggresseur-blog]

*rubs my sassy little hands all over your privacy B)* ❥ Who is your favorite muse to play? ☆ Favorite icon of your muse? ✌ Describe the strangest thing in the room you're in right now.

❥ Who is your favorite muse to play?

hm, that’s a tricky question.

there’s silver, because he’s my favorite muse since I got into roleplay. then there’s the few extroverted character I’ve played: touya, kaminari denki. tsurumaru kuninaga, jun, sharrkan, kida masaomi, splendid, kokonose haruka, shifty...

there’s also the more unstable muses that can be fun, too. kuroha, komaeda nagito, tohru adachi, accelerator. 

ahem. to answer your question shortly, my top three would be silver, tsurumaru kuninaga and kumagawa misogi.

☆ Favorite icon of your muse?

or.

 ✌ Describe the strangest thing in the room you're in right now.

monopoly #CA$H scattered all over the floor.

my room is always empty and too organized, so you don’t really find a lot of strange things in here. 

[aggresseur-blog]

Now back to... this bitch who has a lot of ways to hit pokemon, Silver WHAT'S GOOD?

Not you.

[aggresseur-blog]

♢ DO YOU SILVER, HUH? DO YOU?!

♢ Do you like to write fluff?

nope. not at all. I can’t do it either.

you knew the answer, didn’t you?

[aggresseur-blog]

Not Another Munday Meme

☠ What song would be played at your muse’s funeral?

☮ What puts your mind at peace? What hobbies do you use to keep your mind off of stress?

☯ What's your dream tattoo?

♠ Is it easier to play a morally questionable muse or a morally good muse?

♥ Do you have a crush on anyone?

♡ If you could meet one person, living or dead, who would it be?

♢ Do you like to write fluff?

★ Who is the one muse that your muse loves above all others?

⚜ What other muses do you play?

☄ What's one thing roleplay wise that has been annoying you here lately?

☾ What's your most wished for AU?

☽ What muse do you want to rp with?

☼ What do you do when you're not rping?

☀ Describe the best day of your life.

☁ Is it rainy or about to rain where you are?

☂ What does your muse's umbrella look like?

✌ Describe the strangest thing in the room you're in right now.

✖ Thoughts on reblog karma?

回 What historical AU do you want to do most with your muse?

✧ Are you currently in school/college?

✦ What's your ringtone?

❤ What's been your favorite thread so far on this muse account?

❥ Who is your favorite muse to play?

™ Do you prefer writing OCs or canon muses?

ツ Who was your favorite teacher?

♬ What song is stuck in your head right now?

☆ Favorite icon of your muse?

[cruentu-s]

You're the only one who can handle the mountain because it's Mt SILVER and you know what SILVER stands for, SECOND PLACE, LOSER

hey Silver did u hear that youre a second place loser

aggresseur

[aggresseur-blog]

Hi, Red.

You’re so funny.

You should go tell your mother just how fucking funny you are.

[cruuiser-archive-deactivated201]

but it hasn't even been a day (intro/open)

[aggresseur-blog]

cruuiser:

Oh, she’s listening alright. The static that spills out of his mouth, and the terrible squeak of his tiny Godzilla – Tenryuu can hear them just fine, but she simply doesn’t care anymore. As soon as he accepted the challenge, something eagerly restless, more spunk than unfounded rage, began bubbling to the front of her psyche. 

She wants this fight, and she. Will. Prove. Him. Wrong.

Tenryuu glares from the squinted slit of her eye, pulls up a growling scowl to match. In any other scenario, she might have grinned instead – at this experience, at the fact that she had a chance of fighting a worthy opponent – but her injured pride won’t allow it. Not yet. "You expect me to be satisfied when you’re throwin’ a baby bodyguard up front, pussy? My destroyer squadron can screech better n’ that, and they’re only in primary school,” she spits. Some spectators snicker at the comment, but most stand there wondering: ‘Is this woman crazy?’

His eyes are searing red; her’s are a glaring gold. Two tints to the same, blazing flame.

If she’s crazy, then so is he.

Sprinting forwards, Tenryuu lunges left – feints, bounces off the ball of her foot and to the right, only to bend and channel her body’s swinging momentum into a springing, screaming right hook – straight for the fragile, blue-balled snout. 

It’s reckless, definitely, in a part-planned, mostly impulsive kind of way, but her opponent isn’t this lizard. Her real adversary is standing up ahead, watching, waiting, making her insides tumble and churn (out of fury; it must be pure fury, shouldn’t it?), and she loathes this unusual sensation, loathes it, loathes it loathes it.

So, crocodile. Get the hell out of her way.

He doesn’t know what a destroyer is. He doesn’t want to know what a destroyer is.

Just like her, he doesn’t care about anything right now.

She is brutal, fierce, cares little about hurling her fist into an explosive collapse against the bipedal reptile’s face, and it’s enough to send the poor creature flying several feet away from the battleground, the human mass dissipating momentarily to avoid the impending impact of 196 lbs. of uncatalogued reptile muscle. Silver doesn’t scream, doesn’t budge, stands still silent and strong with his eyes fixated on her quickly moving figure like the commander he is; a loss isn’t a possibility, never has been, no matter who his opponent is.

He is stronger than that, and so is Feraligatr. 

“...hey, stand up. It’s not over yet.” Silver demands calmly, and the monster is already standing up again. Firm, pissed, ferocity coming explicit as a mighty roar. He doesn’t worry because he doesn’t need to; Feraligatr is strong, has taken countless Thunders and Lightning Bolts to the face, stood up and fought back. That’s why it glares burning ice into Tenryuu’s being after recovering from the pain and gets ready to attack even before his trainer says anything. 

She’s not strategical. Not smart, too impulsive, channels her destructive power wrongly. He can see it all; she’s wild, but so is he, and hell will freeze the day he gets scared at something like that. A display of ineffective violence. 

(And it’s something else from himself he sees in her. That’s why he doesn’t waste time underestimating her.) 

“Now use hydro pump,” the trainer commands, choosing the most powerful attack in his arsenal right off the bat. Feraligatr opens its maw, a sphere of bright blue water increasing in size exponentially until it blasts into a straight, powerful line of highly pressurized water, aimed straight at her. Watchers scream, drop their phones as they run some feet away from the possible catastrophe, and Silver waits.

Shit’s about to get real.

[aggresseur-blog]

競争

[aggresseur-blog]

kinginshi:

Silver takes one look at him, and he does what he does best: he runs.

And when he runs, Gold follows up with the only thing that comes natural:

He chases after him.

Buildings construct themselves brick-by-brick as they move forward, and there’s no need to explain, no need to excuse. Silver is not leading and he is not following. They are not ignoring each other, even if they say nothing, and there are sparks flying in the air that only they can see the meaning in. Trying to give voice to it all would only complicate things.

Gold calls it friendship; Silver scoffs.

Silver calls it nothing, but trades insults like greetings, and only rolls his eyes when Gold dogs his steps.

He sees the arcade long before they reach it, and Gold feels his grin spread wide.

‘I’m fifteen, for the record,’ he starts, trotting up beside his friend. He jumps forward and falls behind at his own pace, unbeholden to Silver’s steady progress. ‘Like I fucking care, Gold,’ he mocks, mimicking the guy before he can respond. ‘But you know what? It just means I’m gonna be even fucking better at kicking your ass. Maturity, right? I’m smarter, better, fast–’

　　　　　He nearly trips over a bump in the path, biting his tongue painfully –

‘.. so just you watch. Owwww…’

By the time they make it to the entrance, he’s over it.

And the crowds melt out of focus, petty challengers, when he swings the door open and runs inside.

It’s easy to ignore the presence of the crowd, he decides. When he is not occupying himself with the task of observing the bustling activity of the city from afar, the other beings disappearing in their own paths become like peripheral shadows in the corner of his eyes. But Gold, with his uneven rhythm that becomes almost fucking impossible to ignore with a few cursory glances and progressive addition in the distance between them... 

... he just can’t. 

But that’s exactly why he bites back his sadistic laughter when he nearly falls over, offering him nothing but a half-condescending smirk. An ephemeral expression to break through his indefinite expression, something between savourless apathy and sour irritation. “Congratulations on your awesome demonstration of maturity, idiot,” he scoffs, and doesn’t halt his stride to offer any help. 

At least, the imitation was spot on. But.

How did this guy even become a goddamn champion? 

Minutes that no one ever counted pass by, and they arrive -- beyond the doors, a haven of nearly epileptic flashy 8-bit images, symphonies of remixed chiptunes and the smell of sweat, victory, defeat and sugary carbonated drinks. The constrast of the glaring lights against the dark ambience only contributes to the sensation of competitiveness inside him; reminds him of the cave, for some reason he can’t put into words.

“Choose the machine.” It was your birthday, after all, he never says. Instead, he completes with a cross of his arms and a snarky comment; free courtesy from Gold’s dear (not) friend.

“You know you’re going to lose anyway.”

[aggresseur-blog]

usedtm started following you

No. 

Go back to Johto.

[cruuiser-archive-deactivated201]

but it hasn't even been a day (intro/open)

[aggresseur-blog]

cruuiser:

Take his critiques one by one, and really, they’re not that bad. It’s only because they pile up, like ash in the smoldering furnace, or papers in a cabinet drawer, that she’s finally reaching boiling point.

“…How about fuck you.” So what if that’s not a real retort? Her teeth are clenched tightly enough, her fists even tighter. The aggressively impulsive people, they’re the types who ultimately don’t bother her in the end. They get angry; she gets angry; both sides bounce off each other’s energy until they’ve gone and tired each other out. 

Now, when you’re like this guy, all smug and passive scorn – she can’t pinpoint why, but it ticks her off. A lot.

“If you’re so experient, prove it. I’m not taking the word o’ some sap who happened t’stumble into the area! Either you show it t’my face, or I’ll show it to yours!”

Those words are enough to make anybody wary, right? But, a player on the winning side shouldn’t feel the need to do that. Winners, they don’t need to prove someone wrong (and so desperately, too), or to prove themselves right. And the opponent in front of her – he isn’t doing anything, save for speaking like a sensible, levelheaded person.

He’s somehow pushed her into the defensive role –

And God, does she hate it.

Excluding the sociopathic tendencies to verbally and physically abuse pokémon and people equally, and going through a number of year-long journeys carrying a list of wanted signs and increasing fancy descriptions of crimes he’s commited during that period, she’s just like him.

“Shut up. You’re too damn loud.”

He snarls. And he does so for the lack of a better expression, for the lack of his ability to smirk and provoke her more until she explodes at the current moment, but mostly because it hits home. The temper, the furious expression, how he feels like she wouldn’t hesitate to punch him into unconsciousness just like the fallen man. And how he smirks and jabs at her with sharp words only makes things more complicated for him, as she unleashes aggressivity and a set of threats that could make a man shiver and fall back while apologizing frantically, for the sake of his dignity and safety of internal organs.

But not him.

“Feraligatr. Go.”

The crowd starts to get louder. From the two-toned sphere that he launches into the air, and the subsequent white light that it shoots against the ground, a bipedal crocodile emerges, roaring ferociously at the menacing woman, because he knows (they know) she’s not a weakling. They’re pointing their cameras at them, but Silver doesn’t care about the attention; there’s a fire burning in his eyes -- competitiveness --, an unwillingness to back down or talk it out, and even though he’s not going to attack her until the possibility of suffering a first attack is confirmed--

“That’s one reason for you to calm down and listen. But considering you beat a guy into a coma for nothing... 

... I don’t think you’re satisfied, are you.”

At least he’s ready.

[cruuiser-archive-deactivated201]

but it hasn't even been a day (intro/open)

[aggresseur-blog]

cruuiser:

He’s mocking her. 

He’s mocking her with his sarcasm, his dull, dry words, and all trace of her previous agitation is erased in favor of indignation. Tenryuu nearly barks at the stranger, like a dog; a haughty, ill-mannered dog – 

But, he’s mocking her. 

He has a good reason for it – maybe.

“The sap’s not dying, okay? Of course there’s going t'be some bruises on his body ‘n maybe organs at that, but it’s all t'be expected. If you go into a fight without expecting any injuries, you’re a fuckin’ idiot.” Tenryuu scoffs sardonically, but her eyes suggest otherwise. There’s something guilty about the way they flick down, the way her lip curls in the wrong direction. “I’m guessing he hasn’t bruised the wrong kind o’ organs,” she adds, mumbling more to herself than the newcomer. 

The moment passes, and she’s quick to latch on to the next order of business. “Anyway, what’s the deal that last remark? Are ya’ trying t'insinuate somethin’ here?” She can never be sure (then again, she’s almost never sure of such subtle things, especially in this irritated state), but even so –

He was mocking her.

Who said he couldn’t be doing that now? 

It takes a ridiculous amount of effort to be this reckless. 

He’s too busy looking at the half-corpse to pay attention to her guilty body language, but even if he did spare himself some time to care about that, he wouldn’t say anything about that. She’s reduced the poor guy to shit, no amount of balls will ever bring him to a completely upstanding and confident state of mind ever again. 

It’s reckless, yeah. You can’t deny that.

But to attract this much attention, to (possibly) ruin her reputation like that, to wreck havoc and then just -- stay there. She’s not running away. She’s not ashamed-- 

-- this girl’s got guts. 

“Just saying.” He rolls his shoulders back, and he can’t really say he disagrees with her. Known for his touches of brutality during battles, specially near the end of each round, he’s not really the one to talk about ethics. And even then, with his tendency to fly off the handle at the first sight of a provocation, his fist fights tend to take a more dangerous turn. He remembers some occasions that almost led him to death in this place -- fighting against stronger people is nice, yeah, but when they can freeze you and block every single one of your movements. 

Then that’s just suicidal. 

“You’re going to fucking scare everyone if you fight like that in front of the entire city. You’re clearly new, aren’t you?” Silver scoffs, never holding back his words, because that’s not something he does. He’s not scared. Even if it means she’ll get angrier and fight him too, he’s not the type to draw back and pussy out. 

“An advice from someone experient,” the sarcasm is as clear as daylight, and -- yeah, he is mocking her. Kind of. “Learn to pick your fights before you end up like that guy.”

Tenryuu can be scary, but he’s just as headstrong.

[hansei-hansui-deactivated201609]

反対

[aggresseur-blog]

hansei-hansui:

‘Hey, um…

　　　　　‘You need to slow down!’

The demand falls off his tongue, awkward; it doesn’t sound right. But it feels right. It feels right, chasing the boy down at a hurried clip, hands in fists at his sides. There’s this look on his face – there’s this look on his face, he thinks? – and it’s not normal, because it doesn’t sit like it should, but it feels right. It feels right, lips pressed thin, brow furrowed in a scowl that looks more than ready to kill.

It’s not right – but it feels right, he thinks, when he reaches out and snags the boy’s arm for himself. It’s only right that people should listen to him, that he should take what he wants, that paranoia and distrust are the feelings that play out in his every action. It’s only right, because the world owes him a favour, and he deserves to be treated better than this; 

　　　　　　　　　　Will be treated better than this.

And it starts with the guy who started it.

‘Stop,’ Haruka says, his words biting like his grip. It’s the middle of an empty street, quiet, but he demands the boy’s full force of attention. ‘Don’t you even think about ignoring me.’

Because it’s only right, isn’t it?

‘Right now. You need to speak up – right now.

　　　　　‘What did you do to me?’

The air is bitingly cold with the promise of storm.

aggresseur

So, he’s not really sure about many things. Why he feels so awfully optimistic, for once in what, seven years? Is one of these things. Why he pets his Sneasel’s head and gives it a good afternoon is the second. 

Why his steps come to an abrupt halt as soon as he feels someone snagging his arm without getting back at him with an overly aggressive retalliation, the small-sized midnight feline watching the scene from an appropriate distance warily, is the third.

“Sorry --” The word feels foreign on his mouth, a sensation not unlike going somewhere unpleasant for the first time in years, or like something is lacking, like his willingness to tell the boy no, I have more important shit to figure out right now. What Haruka earns is not an intimidating glare, or a silent cold shoulder, but a reluctant raise of his hands; a gesture of reconciliation. 

“ -- it’s. It’s this place, the scientists, they...” Oh, he’d love to punch one, two, all of them in the face until they drop dead, for all of this fucking around bullshit; but not now. It’s not anger that is building up inside him, it’s something he tries not to think about too much, or just a turmoil of alien feelings taking over his own, but not gently enough to change the fact he’s aware of everything. Just not what’s happening, or what happened.

Regardless, Silver considers -- considers -- patting the boy’s shoulder to comfort him. 

What the fuck.

“I’m as confused as you are. So. Let’s just. Calm down. We’ll... figure it out.” 

Silver smiles, for a fraction of a fraction of a second, and it feels like he’s paying for his sins right here. For bullying Gold, for ignoring Kotone’s calls, for never talking to Crystal again. Grossly bitter irony.

He can feel the stolen parts of his essence sneering at him in disgust, threatening to make him punch himself ‘til he’s out of his consciousness once they become one again.

[cruuiser-archive-deactivated201]

but it hasn't even been a day (intro/open)

[aggresseur-blog]

cruuiser:

About Tenryuu –  About how she ended up in a public fistfight – 

It was purely by chance, but within moments of waking up (and ignoring a majority of the scientists’ ‘Welcome to Hive City!’ video – it sounded like complete nonsense, anyway), she had stormed out of the room, into the city, and engaged in a fight with an NPC. He started it, mind, with his taunting and overall bad attitude, and she responded in kind: with a fist to his face. 

So began a heated fight, which lasted 3 minutes and 49 seconds before reaching a standstill.

                                            ———————————–

“Come on, where’s all that bravado from before? I’ll take you head on!“ 

No response. There’s silence all around, and it’s discomforting. It’s discomforting because she can’t tell whether she’s gone too far, if he’s scared out of his wits and ready to cry – or something like that. The NPC has his arms to a store wall, palms flattened against cold bricks. His knees – they aren’t shaking, but he’s crumpling inch by inch, and his eyes are darting to the sides, like they’re tracing the path of an imaginary fly.

A thought comes to mind: This isn’t fun anymore.

"Oi, oi. Don’t tell me you’re too scared t’ fight?" Still glowering, Tenryuu crosses her arms, but by now it’s all an act. She’s just about to let him go – poor guy is making her heart hurt, in a way – when someone, from somewhere behind them, steps forwards.

Almost immediately, she whips around, and of course she opens her mouth too early.

“H-hey, it’s… not what it looks like, alright!?”

Three minutes and 49 seconds  — the time he’s wasted watching a fight he already knew the outcome of as soon as he fixated his eyes on one of the participants. The robot-alien-weird as fuck girl, specifically. 

Were he any empathetic, he’d be shaking in his boots right now just from seeing the destructive result of the fight. Were he any coward, he wouldn’t even think about talking to this person. 

“Really, now?” Silver, right now, is a lot of things  — impressed, definitely, wary, maybe, but above all else, he’s skeptical. There’s something suspicious about someone who completely wrecks the dignity out of someone in a fistfight and acts as if it’s an embarassing fanservice scene. He steps forward, lifts a brow, and sends a quick glance to the poor dying NPC, breathing out plaintive pleas that die halfway before reaching the tip of his tongue. 

He’ll most likely be around again tomorrow, recalling the painful memories of this moment. (Or not.)

”So, what did this guy do. Insult your mother? Piss on your food? He’s probably dying.” His tone is more sarcastic than anything, but his gaze is reprehensive, just inches close to metaphorically shouting “was that really necessary?”

But, he’d be lying if he were to say it’s not awfully and needlessly flashy. Impressive, yes, scary, definitely. He’s not sure, however, if she’s just explosively short-tempered or —  

— who cares, really.

“Guess no one’d ever be crazy enough to pick a fight with you from now on, huh.”