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snowangie · 1 year ago

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snow on the beach

a finnick odair x fem!oc series

summary: in the heart of the capitol's glittering deception, Giselle Snow, granddaughter of president coriolanus snow, conceals her true emotions while working to undermine the hunger games. sent to district 4 after the 74th Games, she grapples with forbidden love for district 4's Finnick Odair. Snow on the beach is weird but fucking beautiful - Giselle is the snow, Finnick is the beach, an unexpected yet perfect harmony in the delicate ballet of their existence. as the quarter quell unfolds, panem becomes a battleground for love and rebellion, and Giselle faces a choice that will alter destinies and unravel the threads of her past.

content warnings: swearing, smut, violence, death, torture, mentions of sex trafficking, weapons, trauma, mental illnesses

genre: angst, romance, forbidden love, violence, hurt/comfort

chapters: 1 - flecks of lights , 2 - life is emotionally abusive , 3 - time cant stop me quite like you did

chapter 3: time can't stop me quite like you did.

The passage of time in District 4 had left an indelible mark on Giselle and Finnick's complex connection. Several weeks had passed since that fateful night at Finnick's house, and the once-intimate moments between them had become scarce. The distance, both emotional and physical, lingered like a palpable ache.

As Giselle carried out her duties in District 4, she could feel Finnick's eyes on her from afar. His watchful gaze spoke volumes – a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond that still lingered between them.

One day, amidst her routine, Giselle received a summons from the Capitol. A person from her past life there requested her presence. She left her duties in District 4 to meet the mysterious messenger.

President Snow, in his calculating wisdom, had decided it was time for Giselle to return to the Capitol for good. Her work in the districts was deemed complete, and her presence was required for the upcoming Hunger Games. The announcement, a harbinger of tribulation, loomed in the near future.

The weight of the Capitol's expectations pressed on Giselle's shoulders as she absorbed the news. The delicate balance she had strived to maintain in District 4 was now disrupted, and the impending return to the Capitol held a sense of foreboding.

That night, as Giselle grappled with the implications of her impending departure, Finnick, unable to stay away any longer, appeared at her doorstep. Their eyes met, and a whirlwind of unspoken emotions surged between them.

She hesitated for a moment before inviting him in. The room was bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp, casting shadows that mirrored the complexities of their relationship.

In the quiet of Giselle's quarters, they finally spoke. The tension in the air was palpable, and Giselle, with a heavy heart, shared the news of her departure. “I'm leaving tomorrow, Finnick. The Capitol needs me for the Hunger Games. The Capitol is pulling me back. My work in the districts is done.”

Finnick, his gaze fixed on her, his expression revealing a mix of conflict and understanding, muttered, “They always find a way to pull us back in, don't they?”

Giselle nodded, her eyes revealing a mixture of vulnerability and restraint. “It's what I was born into, Finnick. But maybe... maybe it's a chance to change things from within.”

He nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of understanding and frustration. “And where does that leave us? We were good. But that night at my house... things changed, and it's been hard to find our way back.”

Giselle, tracing patterns on the edge of a table, admitted, “I thought we had something real, something beyond the Capitol's games. But then I questioned it all, and it felt like everything fell apart.”

Finnick, closing the distance between them, spoke with a raw honesty, “That night was a mess, Giselle. I didn't know how to handle what we shared. I thought I was protecting you, but maybe I was just protecting myself.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching for a connection. "We're both products of this system, Finnick. But maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to navigate it together.”

The room held a charged atmosphere as they grappled with the complexities of their connection. Finnick, his frustration evident, questioned, "What are we, Giselle? Are we just part of the Capitol's games too?"

Giselle, meeting his gaze, countered, “We can be more, Finnick. It's not easy, but we can redefine the rules. The Capitol might pull us back, but we have a choice in how we play their game.”

As the night unfolded, their conversation delved into the intricacies of their emotions, the unspoken promises, and the vulnerabilities that lay beneath their poised exteriors. In the quietude of Giselle's quarters, the echoes of their dialogue danced, revealing a connection that defied the Capitol's expectations. In the quiet intimacy of Giselle's living chambers, the air held a palpable tension—a mix of longing and the impending separation that hung between her and Finnick. The room witnessed a passionate interlude as their hearts yearned for a connection that defied the confines of Panem's expectations.

Finnick, his gaze drawn to Giselle like a moth to a flame, found solace in the softness of her presence. The flickering candlelight cast shadows that played upon the contours of Giselle's face, and he couldn't resist the allure any longer. Finnick’s gaze lingered on Giselle, capturing every detail of her presence—the soft curve of her lips, the glint in her eyes that mirrored the starlit ocean. A touch both gentle and fervent, he traced the line of her jaw, his fingers igniting a trail of sensation. In that poignant moment, he couldn’t resist the pull any longer. With a tender urgency, he cupped her face, his lips finding hers in a dance that mirrored the ebb and flow of the sea.

Giselle, acutely aware of the imminent departure that loomed, met Finnick's gaze with a mixture of love and desperation. Their lips collided in a fervent kiss that spoke volumes of the unspoken promises between them. In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and they were consumed by the passion that had blossomed in the midst of rebellion and clandestine whispers.

As their kiss deepened, the room seemed to pulse with the rhythm of their hearts, entwined in a dance of longing. Giselle's hands found refuge in Finnick's hair, holding onto the fleeting seconds before the inevitable separation. Every touch, every shared breath, echoed a love that had transcended the societal boundaries that sought to tear them apart. Time seemed to pause, allowing them to savor the sweetness of their stolen moment.

When they finally parted, a breathless silence enveloped the room, leaving behind the lingering warmth of their connection. In that sacred space, Giselle and Finnick were bound by a love that refused to be silenced—a love that whispered promises of reunion even as Giselle prepared to return to the heart of the Capitol's machinations.

In the fading twilight, Finnick broached the subject that lingered unspoken, “Giselle, when the quarter quells arrive, and I'm supposed to mentor the tributes, what if we plan to see each other again? Maybe not in the spotlight, but somewhere discreet.”

A flicker of hope danced in Giselle's eyes as she considered the suggestion. “Finnick, that sounds like a risky endeavor. The Capitol's eyes are everywhere. But...”

He interjected with a sly smile, “But isn't that what makes it interesting? We navigate the Capitol's games within their games.”

They shared a quiet laugh, their connection growing stronger amidst the uncertainty. Giselle, feeling the weight of her impending return to the Capitol, nodded in agreement. “Let's plan for it, Finnick. A discreet meeting during the quarter quells. Something that even the Capitol won't suspect.”

Finnick, the corners of his mouth quirking up, responded, “We'll be careful. Just a moment, a stolen breath in the midst of their orchestrated chaos.”

In the quiet hours of the night, Giselle and Finnick found solace in each other's company, away from the tumultuous world that awaited them. The moonlight bathed the room in a soft glow as they lay side by side, their shared vulnerabilities creating an unspoken bond between them. The promise of a clandestine meeting in the shadow of the Capitol's watchful gaze during the quarter quells became a glimmer of hope in the face of their imminent separation.

The room, adorned with memories of shared moments, became a haven from the harsh realities they faced. Giselle's silhouette was softened by the dim light, and Finnick's eyes traced the contours of her face, a map of both strength and vulnerability.

As they lay together, a delicate silence enveloped them, broken only by the rhythmic cadence of their breaths. The weight of their individual struggles seemed to dissipate in the intimate space they created, a sanctuary where the world's troubles held no sway.

Finnick, his fingers gently tracing patterns on Giselle's hand, spoke in a hushed tone, "In this moment, it feels like the world outside these walls doesn't exist. Just you and me, away from the Capitol's games and the district's strife."

Giselle, her gaze meeting his, whispered, "For a moment, we're free. Free from the expectations, the struggles, and the weight of the roles we play."

The moonlight cast a gentle shimmer upon them, and in that quiet intimacy, their connection deepened. The air was filled with unspoken promises, a silent pact to cherish the stolen moments they found in each other's arms.

As sleep claimed them, the room became a haven of dreams, where the echoes of whispered confessions and shared laughter intertwined. The night, despite its tranquility, carried a bittersweet melody – a reminder that the morning would bring new challenges, and the realities they sought refuge from would once again demand their attention.

In the soft embrace of slumber, The Capitol's Darling and The President's Darling, Giselle and Finnick found a temporary respite, a poetic interlude in the symphony of their intertwined lives. The moon, witness to their shared vulnerability, cast a tender glow upon their forms, creating a canvas of warmth and serenity amidst the complexities that awaited them with the dawn.

During the quiet hours before dawn, Giselle prepared to return to the Capitol, the echoes of their conversation lingered. The unspoken bond between her and Finnick, a fragile thread stretched across the divide, held the weight of an uncertain future as she embarked on a journey back to the heart of the Capitol's machinations with the uncertainty that awaited Giselle there despite the odds.

The morning air in District 4 was crisp, carrying a bittersweet undertone as Giselle prepared to bid farewell to the district she had grown to care for. She was busy packing her stuff and cleaning the house so she didn't notice when Finnick left. In the quiet moments before her public departure, Finnick reappeared at her doorstep, a silent acknowledgment of the private farewell they needed.

Giselle, wearing a somber expression, opened the door to find Finnick standing there, a necklace in his hand. The pendant, a delicate seashell, held a story of survival from his victorious Games, and he spoke with a quiet intensity, “I want you to have this, Giselle. It's been with me through thick and thin. Maybe it'll bring you luck too.”

She took the necklace, the weight of its history mingling with the weight of the moment. “Finnick, I... Thank you.”

He smiled, a mixture of sadness and understanding in his eyes. “Consider it a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there's a glimmer of hope. A proof of our time here together once. You're strong, Giselle. Don't forget that.”

As the sun cast its gentle rays, they stood in the quiet embrace of the morning, the world outside oblivious to the intimate exchange. Finnick's gaze lingered on her face again, committing the details to memory.

Giselle, feeling the weight of impending farewells, spoke softly, “Finnick, I don't know what awaits me in the Capitol, but I want you to know that you've been a light in the darkness. Whatever happens, I won't forget you.”

He nodded, the unspoken understanding hanging in the air. “You're not alone, Giselle. Remember that, no matter where you go.”

Their lips met in a lingering kiss, a silent exchange of emotions too complex for words. The taste of both sorrow and longing lingered in the air as they pulled away, their eyes locking in a silent farewell.

As Giselle stepped back, the seashell necklace clasped around her neck, Finnick's hand lingered on hers for a moment. “Go change the Capitol from within, Giselle. I'll be watching, and I'll be waiting for your return.”

She nodded, her eyes reflecting the depth of their connection. With one last glance, Giselle turned away, ready to face the public farewell that awaited her. The echoes of their intimate morning lingered in the air, a testament to a connection that defied the Capitol's expectations and a promise that the unspoken bond between them would endure, even in the face of separation.

As they parted, the sea echoed their unspoken vows, carrying whispers of promises that lingered in the salty breeze. The truth of their love burned bright, an unextinguishable flame that would endure even as Giselle embarked on her journey back to the Capitol.

With a final gaze, Giselle committed Finnick’s features to her memory—the curve of his jaw, the depth of his eyes, and the warmth of his touch. The sea sighed, a melancholic serenade, as the lovers embraced the fleeting seconds before the impending separation, their hearts entangled in a love that refused to be extinguished.

The platform near the trains buzzed with a mixture of gratitude and sadness, Giselle's departure from District 4 drawing a crowd of people eager to bid her farewell. The district's residents, who had come to admire and appreciate Giselle for her kindness, gathered to express their sentiments.

As she walked towards the waiting train, the sea of faces reflected a mix of admiration and genuine affection. The atmosphere was charged with emotion, and Giselle, humbled by the outpouring of support, acknowledged the crowd with a gracious nod. “People of District 4, thank you for taking care of me. You were a wonderful experience.”

However, amidst the heartfelt farewells, the peacemaker leader, Captain Rawlins, harbored resentment. He detested the connection Giselle had forged with the people of District 4, viewing it as a challenge to his authority. Mr. O'Brien, who had initially held reservations about Giselle, raised his hand in a three-finger salute—a symbolic gesture born in District 12 but now adopted by the people of the Districts as a sign of goodbye, admiration, and unity.

The gesture, meant as a farewell and a show of unity, spread like a ripple through the crowd. Others joined Mr. O'Brien in the salute, a silent tribute to Giselle's impact on their lives. However, Captain Rawlins saw it as an act of defiance, a challenge to the Capitol's authority.

In a swift and brutal response, Captain Rawlins approached Giselle with a stern expression. Without warning, he delivered a harsh slap across her face, the sound echoing through the platform. The crowd fell silent, a collective gasp rippling through those gathered.

Undeterred, Mr. O'Brien maintained the three-finger salute, a symbol of solidarity. The others, despite the shock, followed suit. Giselle, recovering from the unexpected blow, raised her hand in the salute as well, a quiet act of defiance against the oppression they faced.

With a forceful push, Captain Rawlins directed Giselle towards the waiting train, his displeasure evident. As the doors closed behind her, the three-finger salute lingered in the air—a symbol of resistance, unity, and the indomitable spirit that persisted even in the face of cruelty. The train pulled away, leaving District 4 behind, but the defiant gesture of the people remained etched in the memory of those who witnessed it, a silent promise that the spirit of rebellion endured.

As the train pulled away from District 4, Giselle found herself alone in a compartment, the rhythmic sound of the wheels on the tracks accompanying her thoughts. The sting of Captain Rawlins' slap still lingered, but Giselle refused to let it define her emotions.

She sat in contemplative silence, the scenery outside the window a blur as her mind churned with reflections on the events that unfolded on the platform. The crowd's supportive gestures, Mr. O'Donnell's salute, and the defiance that rippled through the people brought a sense of pride and purpose.

Giselle traced her fingers over the seashell necklace that hung around her neck, a silent reminder of the connection she had forged in District 4. Despite the confrontation with Captain Rawlins, she didn't shed a tear. There was no regret in her heart. Instead, a steely resolve settled within her.

In her mind, Giselle replayed the moment she raised her hand in the three-finger salute. It wasn't an act of submission; it was a declaration of identity, a testament to her resilience. She knew that Captain Rawlins, despite his hostility, understood the delicate dance he played by showing hostility to President Snow's granddaughter.

President Snow valued his family's image above all, and any display of aggression towards Giselle could lead to dire consequences for Captain Rawlins. This knowledge empowered Giselle. She realized that her actions, far from being a vulnerability, had turned the tables in her favor.

As the train continued its journey towards the Capitol, Giselle's gaze shifted from the passing landscapes to the reflection in the window. A subtle smile played on her lips, a sign of defiance and quiet strength. In this moment of solitude, Giselle embraced the truth that she had revealed to District 4 – that she was not just a Snow, but an individual with the capacity to challenge the Capitol's oppressive norms.

The train's rhythmic journey mirrored the steady beat of her resolute heart. Giselle, undeterred by the challenges ahead, prepared to face the Capitol with a newfound sense of purpose. The defiance that echoed through the platform lingered in her spirit, a flame that illuminated the path forward.

Upon her return to the opulent Snow Residence, Giselle's footsteps echoed through the grand corridors. The air was thick with the scent of privilege and power, a stark contrast to the simplicity she had experienced in District 4.

As she entered her grandfather's study, President Snow looked up from his desk, a cold smile playing on his lips. "Giselle, my dear, welcome back. I trust your visit to District 4 went according to plan?"

Giselle, wearing a mask of composure, nodded. “Yes, Grandfather. I executed your instructions precisely, as you would expect.”

Snow's eyes narrowed slightly, a glint of suspicion lingering. “Good, good. The reports from District 4 indicate that you've managed to maintain order exceptionally well. The peacemakers commend your leadership.”

Unbeknownst to President Snow, the truth lay shrouded in the shadows. The peacemakers, recognizing the impact of Giselle's genuine compassion, had covered for her, creating an illusion of her strict enforcement.

With a subtle inclination of her head, Giselle acknowledged his words. “I did what was necessary to ensure the Capitol's interests were upheld in District 4.”

President Snow leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled together. “You've done well, Giselle. Better than I anticipated. I see that you are learning the capitol way, the right way. In light of your success, I have another task for you.”

Giselle's heart tightened, a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. “What would you have me do, Grandfather?”

A calculating gleam entered Snow's eyes. “The quarter quells are approaching, and I want you to work closely with the game makers to ensure their success. Your understanding of the Capitol's intricate dynamics will be invaluable.”

Giselle's facade remained unbroken as she replied, “Of course, Grandfather. It is an honour to finally be working with the gamemakers. I will ensure the quarter quells are executed flawlessly.”

As Snow outlined his expectations, Giselle couldn't help but reflect on the irony of her situation. Her acts of kindness in District 4, disguised as strict enforcement, had earned her grandfather's trust, paving the way for her deeper involvement in the machinations of the Hunger Games.

As she left the study, Giselle carried the weight of her dual identity – the granddaughter of President Snow and the compassionate force behind the illusion of order in District 4. The Capitol's games continued, and Giselle found herself entangled in a web of intrigue and deception that she would have to navigate with care to preserve her own humanity.

As Giselle navigated the intricacies of Capitol politics and her newly assigned role working closely with the gamemakers, she found herself in a pivotal meeting with Plutarch Heavensbee. The air in the dimly lit room carried an undercurrent of secrecy, and Giselle, ever perceptive, couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Plutarch than met the eye.

Plutarch, known for his cunning strategies, glanced up as Giselle entered the room. His demeanor was calm, but his eyes betrayed a glint of curiosity. Giselle, poised and shrewd, met his gaze with a level of scrutiny that went unnoticed by many in the Capitol.

“Giselle Snow, the granddaughter of President Snow," Plutarch acknowledged with a diplomatic nod. "Word has it that you've just returned from District 4, where your strict leadership has yielded positive results.”

Giselle, choosing her words carefully, replied, “Indeed, I did my duty as instructed. Maintaining order is crucial, especially in these times.”

Plutarch's gaze lingered, and a subtle smile played on his lips. “Order, yes. But sometimes, the Capitol's definition of order can be... restrictive. Wouldn't you agree?”

Giselle, sensing an opportunity to gauge Plutarch's intentions, replied with a measured tone, “Order is necessary, but it should not come at the cost of humanity. The people need to feel a connection, a sense of hope.”

Plutarch raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Giselle's response. “Hope, you say? An interesting perspective, especially in these trying times. The Capitol could use more individuals who understand the importance of hope.”

As the conversation unfolded, both Giselle and Plutarch danced around the unspoken truth. Giselle, suspecting that Plutarch had motives beyond the Capitol's facade, subtly tested the waters. Plutarch, in turn, observed Giselle's reactions, sensing a potential ally in the granddaughter of President Snow.

Little did they know that their paths, entwined by the complexities of the Capitol's political landscape, would lead to an alliance that could play a crucial role in the rebellion against the oppressive regime. In the shadows of secrecy, Giselle and Plutarch began a delicate dance, each harboring their own ambitions for change in a world defined by control and deception.

As Giselle delved into her responsibilities working closely with the gamemakers, her meticulous attention to detail caught the eye of Plutarch Heavensbee. Intrigued, he approached her during a break, something on her neck captured his attention—a delicate necklace with a seashell pendant.

Recognition flickered in Plutarch's eyes. Finnick, a linchpin in his covert plans for the rebellion, had garnered his favor for his potential to sway public opinion. The realization that Giselle possessed a tangible link to Finnick Odair shifted Plutarch's perception of her. He saw beyond the president's darling granddaughter facade; he saw a connection to the rebellion, a vulnerability that could be exploited for the greater cause.

Intrigued by the possibilities, Plutarch subtly approached Giselle during a break in her tasks. “Giselle Snow, a granddaughter of the Capitol, adorned with a piece of District 4's history. What does the seashell represent to you?” he inquired, his tone a mix of curiosity and calculated interest.

Giselle, momentarily caught off guard, composed herself. “It's a gift, a token from District 4. A reminder of the relationships we forge in unexpected places.”

Plutarch, maintaining an air of congeniality, pressed further. “District 4, where you executed 'strict leadership' as per President Snow's orders. Interesting choice of words, considering the Capitol's narrative. Is there more to your story, Giselle?”

Giselle, cautious but quick-witted, responded, “Perhaps, but some stories are better left unsaid, don't you think?”

Plutarch, concealing his scheming thoughts behind a diplomatic smile, replied, “Indeed, my dear. Some stories unfold in the most unexpected ways.”

After the surface-level narrative, Plutarch observed Giselle closely over the next few days. He watched her interactions, noted the subtleties in her expressions, and scrutinized the moments when she believed herself unobserved. It was in these unguarded instances that Plutarch sought to uncover the truth behind the Capitol's darling granddaughter.

As he delved deeper into his surveillance, a revelation emerged—Giselle and Finnick Odair had shared more than a symbolic necklace. There was an unspoken history, a connection that transcended the Capitol's expectations. Plutarch, realizing the depth of their association, saw an opportunity to leverage Giselle's personal ties for the rebellion.

In the shadowy corridors of the Capitol, where deception and strategy intertwined, Plutarch Heavensbee, master of manipulation, set his sights on Giselle Snow as a potential asset—a pawn with a hidden history that could influence the unfolding rebellion in ways he had yet to fathom.

The connection between Giselle and Finnick, coupled with her nuanced perspective, presented an opportunity—one that could be manipulated to further the rebellion's cause. In the intricate game of political chess, Giselle became a pawn whose moves could influence the grand design Plutarch had set in motion.

In the midst of the Capitol's dazzling extravagance, Giselle found herself lost in a sea of wealth, the rhythmic pulse of the music reverberating through the grand halls. The air was thick with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the superficial conversations of Capitol elites.

As she moved gracefully through the crowd, her eyes caught the glimmering chandeliers overhead, reminiscent of the stars that adorned the night sky. A wave of nostalgia washed over her as she remembered the quiet moments beneath the District 4 sky, far, far away from the Capitol's artificial brilliance.

Seeking solace from the overwhelming decadence, Giselle stepped onto a balcony, the cool breeze carrying whispers of distant laughter and the distant hum of the city. The moon, a delicate crescent, hung in the velvet expanse above, casting a soft glow over the Capitol.

In that moment, Giselle’s thoughts drifted to Finnick, the one person who made her feel alive in a world that often felt detached. She wondered if he, too, was looking at the same moon, a silent connection bridging the gap between their separate worlds.

With a wistful sigh, Giselle whispered into the night, “I hope you’re out there, somewhere, under the same moon. No matter the distance, our hearts are still tethered by its gentle glow.”

Her attention shifted to a couple on the dance floor below—a striking resemblance caught her eye. The man's tousled hair echoed the waves of the sea, much like Finnick's, and the woman's locks bore a familiarity to Giselle's own. The couple twirled, immersed in the music, an image that sparked a quiet daydream in Giselle's mind.

In that moment, she allowed herself to envision a future where she and Finnick could openly share their love, much like the couple below. A tender smile played on her lips as she imagined a time when their connection could be celebrated without the constraints of secrecy. While that day seemed distant, Giselle held onto the hope that one day, their love would be free to dance in the open, under the same moon that witnessed their silent promises.

The room Plutarch led Giselle to was dimly lit, casting a subdued atmosphere that matched the gravity of their conversation. As they entered, the heavy door swung shut behind them, shutting out the distant hum of Capitol life. Giselle, her gaze fixed on Plutarch, felt a mixture of anticipation and unease.

"Sit, Giselle," Plutarch gestured towards a plush chair. The air was thick with the weight of the secrets about to be unveiled. Giselle complied, her posture tense yet determined.

"I imagine you have questions, concerns, and perhaps a sense that there's more to the Capitol's narrative than meets the eye," Plutarch began, his tone measured, yet carrying an undertone of sincerity. "The truth is, Giselle, there is a rebellion brewing—a movement to dismantle the Capitol's control over Panem, to end the Hunger Games and the oppression they represent."

Giselle's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and realization. “A rebellion? But how?” Her mind raced with the implications of such a revelation.

Plutarch, choosing his words carefully, continued, “Your connection to District 4's victor, Finnick Odair, is one of the key element in our plan. His influence, combined with your strategic position, can sway public opinion and help us orchestrate the downfall of the Capitol's regime.”

The weight of responsibility settled on Giselle's shoulders. “Finnick... I knew there was more to him, but a rebellion? What's at stake? What are we risking?”

Plutarch leaned forward, his eyes locking onto hers. “Everything is at stake, Giselle. The lives of countless people, the chance for a future free from the Capitol's tyranny. The Quarter Quell is our stage, and you, my dear, are a player in this complex game.”

Giselle's mind raced, torn between the dream of a changed Panem and the realization of the dangers involved. “Finnick... What about him? I can't risk his life.”

Plutarch nodded, acknowledging the weight of her concern. “Finnick is aware, Giselle. He has chosen to be part of this rebellion, understanding the risks. We are working to get Katniss Everdeen to be the leader of the rebellion. Our Mockingjay. There have and will always be risks but the Capitol's oppression won't crumble without taking calculated chances.”

Silence hung in the room, Giselle grappling with the enormity of her role in the rebellion. Plutarch, sensing her internal struggle, spoke with unwavering conviction. “Giselle, you have the chance to be part of something extraordinary—a chance to change the course of history, to bring about a Panem free from the Games. Will you stand with us?”

The room felt charged with the weight of Giselle's decision. Her gaze met Plutarch's, and with a deep breath, she uttered, “Yes, I will stand with you. It's always been my dream to change the Capitol's ways, and if this is the way to do it, then I'm in.”

Plutarch, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes, extended his hand. “Welcome to the rebellion, Giselle Snow. Your journey is just beginning, and together, we'll strive for a Panem that is free from the Capitol's chains.”

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television-overload · 10 months ago

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Final thoughts on X-Files: Perihelion: [potential spoilers below, I'll try to keep it minimal]

(analysis below the cut)

The first half. I wasn't the biggest fan. I liked a few Mulder/Scully moments, of course, it was interesting to see what they were up to. But it all felt a little watered down. Like corporate fanfiction, a little colder and sanitized, emotionally. I think it comes down to having not enough time or space to properly flesh out the characters, and ultimately relies on the reader's preexisting understanding of specific details from seasons 1-11, as well as who these characters are, both individually and together. Having them basically planning to coparent and be roommates? That was a bit of a stretch. Suspension of disbelief getting tested pretty hard.

The side characters. I get it, they had to be introduced and given their time, but I found it difficult to get through. I don't know if it was too much time spent on them, too much detail, or what, but I found myself skimming through their bits at a certain point. Something just felt off there. There was a whole storyline that ultimately ended up being a red herring, and I sort of see it's purpose, but also I think it could have been cut back. It continued Chris Carter's weird pregnancy/violence pattern though, so make of that what you will. I just think it was a bit excessive. The first 2 incidents would have been enough.

Skinner. This is one area I think we didn't explore enough. More on that later.

Also, in my head, Scully moves back into the Unremarkable House, I'm rejecting this reality, even if it does make logistical sense to live in D.C. since... you know... that's where they work. But I have grown immensely attached to that house, so I will keep being unrealistic in my own personal headcanon.

The second half, once the mess of different perspectives and plot lines starts to converge, it got easier for me to read. As much as I hate CSM, his brief appearance drew me in, and I think they did that in a creative way. But that also wasn't explored nearly enough. Same with Mulder's dreams, and everything Vane (smoke guy) told Scully. Again, more on that later.

Another thing I expected to see come back: That slimy company Mulder got offered a job at. I guess it was just to demonstrate his unwillingness to compromise his character in the name of providing for his family, which I guess is fair.

Another warning for [spoilers] here, because I need to talk about this too:

I just didn't vibe with the overarching story of people developing superpowers and mutations from alien DNA and viruses. Much less it happening to Scully. Wait yeah, hold on. I'm adding that to the pile of things to talk about at the end. I just found it weird, which yeah, this is the show where vampires are pizza delivery men and a dude can squeeze through pipes in your building, but this for some reason was pushing too far, to me. It was hard to tell what we were supposed to make of these mutated people. I think what it comes down to is the sheer volume of loose ends, which is what I'm working toward here. Maybe it would be better if it were a less visible mutation. I get what they were going for, with the mutations getting out of hand, especially in a world that barely blinks when UFO's are confirmed to be real. But part of the allure of X-Files was them being the sole witnesses to a lot of this stuff. They were the only ones in the know with the willingness to fight back. I liked the idea of using gene editing to develop a virus that could reverse the damage, but again, I'd have liked it better if the mutations weren't so X-Men/Marvel Inhumans. It for some reason made me cringe 😂

Before we get to the loose ends and my thoughts on the final few chapters, I just wanna have a chuckle at the other cringe moments for me. Maybe it's just me being unused to reading things set in the modern day, but there were SO. many. pop culture references haha. It was maybe excessive, but correct me if I'm wrong. Mulder's new informant, especially, felt to me like a self-insert character in a teenager's first ever fanfiction 😅. I hate to say it, but that's how it came across. So much detail that read as "She's not like other girls/informants 😎." And then noting that Mulder actually kind of liked her 😂 it's giving 2014 One Direction Y/N fanfiction. Then there's all the nicknames for shadowy Syndicate stuff. I think the only way the original show got away with goofball stuff like "Cancer Man" and "Cigarette Smoking Man" was because it was established in a way that made you really fear the character, and that's a testament to William B. Davis' performance, too. Trying to repeat something like that that shouldn't have worked in the first place is tough. Feels like a bit of a reach. "The Inheritors," "The Executive," and also Scully and her friend coming up with code names for suspects or projects. Ehhhhh, just didn't come across naturally to me. It's hard to describe, but I've been thinking about this kind of thing in regard to fanfiction lately. How sometimes a determination to emulate the source material through callbacks or overly specific references can take me out of it, remind me I'm reading a derivative work instead of something that builds on it. These thoughts are only half baked in my own head, so I won't try to elaborate on them here.

Okay, now loose ends. There are. A lot... So much so, that they HAVE to be planning a second book. Or something, right? (🤡🤡🤡 season 12 where they get some basic, less interesting exposition out of the way via book release and then pick up there???)

In no particular order:

Scully's electrical super powers

Telling Mulder William might still be alive

Telling Mulder that William is possibly actually his son

Telling Mulder that this new baby is probably also his child and wasn't a science baby

TELLING MULDER SHE MIGHT MAYBE BE SORTA IMMORTAL KINDA?? TELOMERES???

Whatever the heck is going on with Skinner. Ya can't just leave him in a coma forever.

Alien DNA virus spreading throughout the earth / coming up with a reversal to get things back to normal (Skinner and Scully included, they haven't even really mentioned that)

Dr. Jones (Scully's friend) agreeing to help them save the world, at great personal risk to herself

That one lady can channel the dead. Yeah, I feel like we should dwell on that a little longer. Neither of them really fully accepted that was what had happened

Robin Vane and aforementioned lady relocating their little retreat full of mutants, under increased supervision by the Inheritors

Yeah. The Inheritors. No way they just leave that how it is. And Vane killed that guy and said "The Syndicate sends its regards" when here he's been taking out lingering members of the syndicate for years. What's up with that?

WILLIAM. I will say it again. WILLIAM.

So yeah, as you can see, this is clearly half of a whole story. I'll be intrigued to see if they continue this. I did like the second half a lot better than the first. Mulder and Scully looking forward to parenthood was cute, especially when they finally started talking things over. Talking about William. Acknowledging the loss they had suffered. Finding out the sex of their baby 🥹

I've read fanfictions that had Mulder and Scully feeling more in character than they did here, but it wasn't by any means *bad*. Again, might be a limitation of the medium, here. This isn't an MSR fanfic, it's a real book. There has to be a story and other elements than the two people we all came here for. It was still a worthwhile read, I think. If only to see what future Chris Carter has approved for his characters, and written by a genuine OG fan and member of this community of fans. How crazy is it to write a book and get emails from the creator of this series after having spent so much time in the 90s writing fanfiction for it?? I'm sure it was a dream come true for the author. I'd say it's what every fanfic author dreams of, but I think for some of us, it would be mortifying 😂 (though I've often thought it would be fun to be a writer on NCIS, because that show's writer room needs some help these days. I CAN FIX IT, CBS, CALL ME) ((I have no television writing experience))

I've gone on long enough. There's probably more I forgot to mention, but these are my thoughts, while it's fresh in my mind.

Now back to my regularly scheduled fanfic programming 🏃‍♀️‍➡️

#txf #x files #x files perihelion #x files perihelion spoilers #perihelion

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hog-wif · 3 months ago

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PTSD RADIO VOL 2!!!!!!!!!!

I'm quickly coming to realize that this is Tumblr's favorite horror manga that they've never read. In this volume alone I spotted two or three things that have gone viral on here! The story of the guy who can see the inverted spirits above houses where someone is about to die? Here. The picture of a shadow-person rotting in the booth of a diner? Here. Not to mention all the body horror. Tumblr loves sharing context less body horror

That being said this volume continues the pattern of starting short and disconnected and ending with longer segments where everything starts to come together and you learn more of what's actually going on. It doesn't pull it off as well as last volume, but I suspect that's because it's swinging a bit bigger on the over arcing stuff and I'm excited to see what sense will be made of the stuff set up this volume... Though the mangaka quit due to it freaking him out irl after the next volume so maybe some answers never come ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ ah well

Now for a gallery of faces that made me giggle but will give me strange dreams later, and all the chapter end snippets put together and lightly chewed

Inspired by @bitesu-bitesu-bitesu I recorded the chapter snippets. I'm not sure if they may have special context with the chapter they're published with or what have you, but they certainly go together lol. They're presented here as sentences, decided by either what snippet ends in a period or the next one is capitalized

Gazing at the towering spire with wide open arms crossed tight a scene swims through the clear cloudy heavens.

Beyond the solid lead window like haze climbing downward, ever downward the mountain shallows are drawn in and rebuffed the reflected doll shattered and reformed.

A coldly steaming kettle of water warms tiptoes until burned black.

Light trickles down from high above a shimmer, so nearly far away washing out the distance just ahead.

Moonlight that exposes and conceals.

Weary now of waxing and wanting.

Will no one stop it

WILL NO ONE STOP IT

To take shelter in the sky, one cannot hide.

With the night-dark crow to guide them walking heel-first, heel-first.

On an unblemished battlefield vying for seven kingdoms o'er a single grain of rice go the thieves propounding the will of God and the relentless, reeking river of their saints.

The infant curses the place as tainted but lives there still.

Helpings offered endlessly received without gratitude, consumed without comment.

The only feast, the joy of sullying stores of grain.

Laughing with a rageful glare.

Filthy teeth thus bared putrid breath spits forth false justice never to weary of the delusion of selling others' houses

I'm interested in the repeated contradiction of the first and the anti-Catholic sentiment of the second. I'm not sure what to do with them, but the one from Part 1 makes me think of that line from Romeo and Juliet "swear not by the inconsistent moon" and Part 2 makes me wonder if the flashbacks are from before or after Japan opened to trade with the Dutch. Much to consider

If it helps I'm trying to interpret them via the same themes I've picked up from the horror: contagion, bystander syndrome (notably seemingly encouraging it), the consequences of breaking from tradition (sorta? Could also be something about how tradition lets bad things pile up in the background that you don't see until we start changing things),...and that prioritizing work over everything else is bad? I think? It's not as strong as the others, but it's def there. Or some version at least

#PTSD Radio #volume 2 baby!#I'm so excited to have someone to squeal about this with #I'm going to go order the third volume

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systematicallycapricious · 1 year ago

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Time for English P4AU manga volume 2! Like last time, shenanigans are below the cut and requests for page comparisons are always welcome.

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Overall Opinion

My initial read-through this time was done while I was sleep deprived, so take my impressions with a grain of salt, lmao.

I think the the three most memorable impressions I took away from the translation this time around were:

The syntax felt more markedly stilted to me than last time. As well, the writing was a bit awkward in some places, though I'm unsure if that's a trait of the original Jap writing or if it only arises from attempting to format it into Eng grammar and culture.

The fan-Eng translation took creative liberties with some words that I think were better served by the official-Eng's translation staying truer to the Jap text. Also, the official-Eng transl provided interesting insight into some things that the fan-Eng transl didn't, which I'll go into a bit below.

The scene where Minazuki ambushes Naoto was mistranslated as Sho being the speaker, despite the Japanese text clearly being Minazuki's language patterns. TuT

Overall, I had a positive impression of it and would say that it's worth reading for those who don't mind a few errors and awkward lingual choices.

As for the ミナヅキ・皆月 naming differentiation... Thus far, both Sho and Minazuki have been "Minazuki", as per adherence to the Jap naming scheme. No alternative font, font effects, subtext, special text bubbles, nor anything to clarify the distinction. However, I'm personally reserving judgment until I get my hands on Vol 3, as I have a sliver of hope that the protagonists knowing the difference is permission for the audience to know the difference. I'm not sure how much I actually believe in said sliver, but I'm willing to give the benefit of the doubt at the very least. ^^;

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Illustrations and Author Comics

Vol 2 still has the illustration pages and end-of-volume author's comic! The exclusive edition also has the fold-out poster of the original cover, of course.

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The mistranslated ambush scene was, in fact, Minazuki

So y'all can see for yourself that the text in the Minazuki-Naoto ambush scene clearly uses 俺 and 君 rather than 僕 or テメエ. (Though to be fair, I've actually found an instance where Sho uses 俺 in Vol 2. The line is 「テメエこそ俺にカンショーすんじゃねえ!!」, towards the start of Ch14 when Kagu's mocking his Ikutsuki issues (so Sho's pretty irate). He then returns to using 僕 immediately after; and as there are no visual indications that he switched with Minazuki to say this, I'm pretty confident that this is an exception and not the rule, lol.)

(Said instance of Sho using 俺)

The non-pronoun words should be indicative of whether it's Sho or Minazuki speaking as well, but I'm not fluent enough in Japanese to be able to go into detail on those in this post. ^^;

Overall, I think the translator has been doing pretty good at nailing Sho and Minazuki's respective patterns of speech and employing them in the correct moments – and they go back to getting it correct for when Minazuki reveals himself at the end of Vol 2, too. This one scene just got goofed for some reason I guess. P:

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Translation Upsides

Translation Win 1: Ch15's name was translated properly! The Jap name is 「幻月」 (gengetsu), but the fan-Eng translated it as "Minazuki", which would be 「皆月」 if it was in kanji form. Which – I mean, it is the chapter that Minazuki first formally introduces himself as "Minazuki", so it makes sense? But I personally think that "Paraselene", aka the phenomenon called "moon dogs", is a much cooler and more fitting name for how the chapter goes, including Minazuki's reveal. (-v-)

Translation Win 2: At the start of Ch14, Sho says "Tch! Must've fallen asleep. Hate that dream.", which implies that he's had that dream before. I don't know enough Japanese to know if the original line of 「チッ　寝ちまったのか...　嫌な夢だぜ」 also means a recurrence specifically, but it's still interesting fanon-characterization fodder nonetheless.

Puppet-Ikutsuki's following dialog was also a pretty interesting translation, I think. For example: "The smarts to rule the mental battle. The strength to command the physical battle..! You excel in both! In fact, I'd say you're my greatest masterpiece! I'm proud!"

Translation Win 3: In Ch13, Kagutsuchi's first line of reaching out to Sho is translated correctly as "wings of death", versus the "Plume of Dusk" that the fan-Eng transl uses. Conceptually, they're probably the same thing, but literally the word used is 「死の羽根」 (shi no hane), not 「黄昏の羽根」 (tasogare no hane; which is typically "Plume of Dusk" in Japanese). And this isn't a mistake on the part of the Jap writer either, as far as I can tell, as 「黄昏の羽根」 is used in other places, such as when Labrys is explaining what Plumes are to the Investigation Team ([see here]).

Additionally, though the syntax was exceptionally awkward, I thought the essence of Kagu's dialog in this scene was translated pretty well. And honestly, it's fun to headcanon that Kagu could only communicate limited concepts or words before establishing a stronger connection, thus explaining why the syntax is stilted like: "Your suffering will continue. Eternally. End it."

Translation Win 4: It's a small detail, but Ikutsuki specifically saying "If this is all it takes to kill him... Then that's just how weak he was." is heckin' brutal. Switching to past-tense like Sho's already done and over with when he's still alive and listening, oof. (For comparison, the fan-Eng translated it as "If he dies here, it'll just mean he's worthless.")

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Translation Downsides

Typography Loss 1: Kagutsuchi's text still lacks a cool font like the Jap version has, and that reduces the artistic impact a bit, IMO. In the Jap version, it looks a bit like the text was scorched onto the writing surface – which, given Kagu is a kami of fire, is a pretty apt vibe. While in Eng, he's relegated to the font that all the other characters use while speaking. It's probably better like this for readability purposes, but from a stylistic perspective it's a bit sad.

(Also fun fact: In Jap, the Shadow-Kanji and Shadow-Chie puppets briefly use this burnt font in their speech bubbles. It's for about 1-2 bubbles each (S-Kanji calling forth a fighting ring, S-Chie being in disbelief that Naoto had been holding back against her), and the rest of their dialog is in various other fonts. I'm not sure if there are other instances of non-Kagu characters using it beyond that, nor what exactly it's intended to imply through these additional instances, but it's interesting to note.)

(Additionally; examining it more closely, the Japanese typography is really dynamic in general, which is pretty cool. I'm not sure if that dynamicness invalidates any literary significance to Kagu's burnt font though, lol.)

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Translation Intrigues and Amusements

Typography Intrigue 1: They left the page of fiery "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"s as-is, rather than trying to turn the 「あ」 and 「ア」 into "a/A". Which, while I immensely respect the fan-Eng version for trying to transcribe that artistic text, I think the horrific vibe comes through a bit better with the original text and art preserved. (Maybe in part due to the wave effect on the text having 3 dimensions rather than just 2?)

Translation Intrigue 2: In Ch13, one of the double page spreads is translated as "This world doesn't need anyone. There's no one in this world." Meanwhile, in the fan-Eng version, it's written as "I don't need anyone! I'm fine by myself!"; and the original Jap text is 「この世界には誰もいらない　この世界には誰もいない」 (the same line, just minus the ら).

I personally prefer the fan-Eng's take on it, as the official-Eng's version confused me for several weeks after the fact; but as I don't understand the nuance of the Jap version, I have no clue as to which Eng interpretation is more accurate. >_>;

Translation Amusement 3: Yu apparently has the word "welp" in his lexicon. And on the second page, the way that his dialog is worded makes it sound like he's smitten with Sho, lmao.

Translation Amusement 4: Yu's so used to his friends' antics at this point that he can just tune them out like that, lol. I also just appreciate Chie and Yosuke's dialog here in general.

Translation Intrigue 5: Ch13's title is translated as "Crimson Memories" in the official-Eng transl, versus fan-Eng's "Scarlet Memories". The original Japanese words are 「緋色の記憶」.

Translation Intrigue 6: What's typically translated as "the rules of this world" (regarding Adachi) is translated here as "reality's rules". The original Jap text (in this manga at least) is 「現実のルール」, not 「世界のルール」; so literally "reality", like "reality of the situation", and not 'reality' like "world/society".

Translation Intrigue 7: Ikutsuki's iconic "the death of everything... but also the beginning" speech is translated a bit differently compared to the fan-Eng, and drastically different compared to Ultimax's EpP3 Ch1. It keeps the same general concepts, but the cadence, word choices, and syntax are executed differently.

Translation Intrigue 8: Side-by-sides of the kendo/fencing pun because I think the differing translation choices, as well as the original context of the pun, are interesting.

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(If you wanna see the fan-Eng in higher quality than the screengrabs I used, you can find it on Mangadex [here].)

#Sho Minazuki #Yu Narukami #Chie Satonaka #(tagging Chie mostly because of the cover art; in case any fans of hers want to see it)#Shuji Ikutsuki #HinoKagutsuchi (Persona)#P4AU/P4U2 manga #Persona 4 Arena Ultimax #P4AU #P4U2 #Persona 4 The Ultimax Ultra Suplex Hold #ペルソナ4 ジ・アルティマックスウルトラス―プレックスホールド

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katarh-mest · 1 year ago

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finished Apothecary Diaries Vol #4

Holy smokes it's an absolute shame that the first two couers of the anime are likely only going to make it through the first two novels. And even the manga itself is only scratching at the start of volume 4.

It is, plain and simple, a delightfully well written narrative.

I say this as an avid reader, a sometimes writer, and a general appreciator of a well crafted story.

(Minimal spoilers through volume 4 follow)

Clues are laid down. Maomao acknowledges them by dint of being so observant, then immediately forces herself to forget them or not think too hard about them (her biggest character flaw, but obviously one that came about as sort of an instinctual survival coping mechanism in Verdigris House and later on the rear palace. No client would like a nosy little serving girl learning too much, after all.) She can recall them when she's forced to, but it's an interesting masking trait in and of itself. Feign ignorance or die.

The writer's choice of omniscient third person lets us flit from mind to mind, character to character, and know things that would otherwise have to remain a mystery. And confirm that characters live or die, even if Maomao has to stay ignorant for now. I appreciate that sense of closure.

So far, Chekov's feifa hasn't remained unfired. It's great! Vignettes that seem like cute little slice of life moments have major plot implications two volumes later. (The ghost stories chapter from Volume 2 is a fantastic example of that. Shisui's surprisingly good acting skills, plus the mystery of the organizer being dead. At first I thought it was Hyongang since she said she wanted someone to continue the tradition, but then later I was pretty sure it was the elder woman from the clinic... who wouldn't have been above having another dozen women in the gardens dead..)

I love that every character in the La family so far has their own variation of neurodivergence. Lakan with his face blindness and military savant, Lahan with his ASD number and pattern recognition, Luomen with his brilliant mind but occasional ADHD-like problems, and of course Maomao the autism queen herself. Pretty sure she got that straight from her mom, for that matter.

Anyway, I'm already chewing on volume five. I haven't binged this much on a book series in years. I'm hyperfixated to the point of tuning out reality. Glad it hit during Christmas break because I quite literally might get through all 12 volumes before New Year's Day.

I'm giving to understand that the original web novel is a hair on the darker side, and a lot of the things I'm gushing about are no doubt results of a solid editing process after the fact for the light novels.... but isn't that a good thing? There's no shame in a good clean up editor.

#apothecary diaries #them's good reading #apothecary diaries novels

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tigger8900 · 2 years ago

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Happily: A Personal History — With Fairy Tales, by Sabrina Orah Mark

⭐⭐⭐ 1/2

What happens when a Jewish woman from New York City marries a Black man and moves to the deep south? Serving first as stepmother to his three existing daughters — from two previous marriages — then also as mother to the two sons they have together, Sabrina turns to the familiar patterns of storytelling to make sense out of her life. From her experiences back in NYC and the struggles involved in being a wife, mother, and stepmother, to the struggles of raising boys who are both Black and Jewish and the trials of the Covid-19 pandemic, there's few areas where fairy tale lessons don't have something to say on the matter.

When I picked up this title, I wasn't familiar with Sabrina Orah Mark or her column. I do, however, enjoy reading about fairy tales. I wasn't sure what exactly to expect from this collection of memoir essays, but I was pleasantly surprised.

Every essay had an event or theme from her life being related to one or more lessons from a fairy tale. This might be a general musing on mothers and stepmothers in story and life, a discussion of hair loss being related to Rapunzel, or wicked wonderings about the role of mother-as-fairy as a child begins to lose their baby teeth. A few of them felt like they'd been a bit shoehorned, but most were interesting. I particularly enjoyed that she often cited multiple versions of the same story, noting where they differed and where they agreed in relation to the point she was making. The tales explored stayed largely within what we'd consider to be the western canon, which may be disappointing to some readers who were looking for more diversity. While there are frequently references to Jewish tradition, it's not quite the same thing.

The most distinct thing about the essays is their seamless blend of the real and the fantastical. She might be relating an event that happened to her, then suddenly halfway through the scene it begins to feel implausible, as if we've slipped sideways through the fabric of reality and wound up inside a story. It took me a few chapters to catch on and embrace this method of storytelling. There were a many times when I read along for several sentences, unsure whether I was in reality or fairyland. Ultimately I enjoyed it more than I didn't, but I know this won't be for everybody.

These are incredibly personal essays. She frequently discusses her family — parents, sister, husband, children, and step-children — which is to be expected in memoir. But where it gets a bit uncomfortable is at certain points in the chapters when she mentions her writing alienating those close to her, presumably due to her including them in the works. Obviously there's a conversation to be had around boundaries and oversharing when you're emotionally close to someone who makes their life public, in whole or in part. As the consumer, our assumption is that the creator has done the necessary work to have those conversations, avoid sensitive areas, and secure any necessary consent. But her admission that she'd run into troubles with this before left me uncertain, devoid of context, and feeling almost voyeuristic at times. I certainly hope nobody was harmed by any content included in this volume. But ultimately I'm not sure I trust that was the case, which left me feeling conflicted.

Time for The Question! Does the tarantula die? Very mild spoilers ahead. Some of the essays have to deal with her stepdaughter's pet tarantula. The tarantula survives just fine.

#books #book review #Happily: A Personal History — With Fairy Tales #sabrina orah mark #nonfiction #memoir #essays #jewish authors

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russicnroses · 11 months ago

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RUSSIAN ROSE | VOLUME TWO | PART 2

CHAPTER ONE: [N/A]

PAGES: 26 - 57

TRANSLATION TOOL: Chatgpt

CONTENT / WARNINGS: long post, blood, death mention.

"The Church of Blood was attacked by a monster."

Saya hugged her shoulders. She noticed that her wounds had already healed, and her expression darkened further. Letting Diva escape was her fault. But—she herself was seen as the same kind of monster.

Despite being the same Chiropteran, her blood was the greatest weapon against them. It was said that the only other way to kill them was to burn them with an enormous amount of heat. However, no weapon capable of instantly incinerating a Chiropteran had been developed, so the Red Shield organization had to rely on Saya's blood.

Of course, Saya intended to use it. It was the only way she could atone for her actions.

"But...the contradiction always weighs on my chest."

She clenched her hand tightly, and Haji placed his hand gently over hers.

Saya looked up. Haji, kneeling, looked up at her straight.

"There's no point in brooding over it. There will be another opportunity."

With a stern expression, Saya nodded at his words. "Yeah..."

There was no point in regretting. They had to get results.

Then Saya finally looked around. She noticed the room was different from where she had been before.

The white canopy over the bed was adorned with blue flowers. The walls also had blue floral patterns on a white background, giving the room a gentle impression, unlike her previous room.

A white marble fireplace burned brightly. Since Haji was there, it was likely a property of the Red Shield.

As Saya stood up, Haji, who had been heading towards the table, noticed her confused look and turned to speak.

"You've been asleep for two days, so we moved to a mansion in the suburbs during that time. ...Saya."

When he called her name softly in a low voice, Saya immediately understood why. Her dormant senses awakened, and her skin prickled.

Just as it had happened before, her body involuntarily craved it, despite her will.

(—But,)

A voice echoed in her mind.

("The Church of Blood was attacked by a monster.")

"I don't need blood."

Before she realized it, Saya had said those words.

"…It's something you need right now."

Haji responded calmly without hesitation. He was always like that. He never forced her, but he only spoke of what was necessary.

(I understand that. But...)

Saya forced a smile and tried to sound cheerful.

"I feel better than last time. So, I'll be fine."

"Forgive me, but it doesn't appear that way to me."

(Ugh...)

Again, Haji's calm words left Saya at a loss for words. She raised her chin defiantly and said,

"I know myself best. I'm Haji's master, so I'm stronger than Haji."

Her words, meant to reassure herself, came out in a strong tone reminiscent of when she was in the zoo. She expected Haji to back down easily, but his voice took on an unusually accusatory tone.

"Is strength something that needs to be constantly flaunted to feel secure?"

Saya was taken aback by his rare tone. She raised her well-shaped eyebrows in surprise.

"Anyway, I don't need blood right now."

“Saya,” Haji called softly, his voice as gentle as ever. But Saya couldn’t stop the words from spilling out.

“I don’t need it. I can handle everything myself, so don’t help me, Haji.” She knew she was taking out her frustration on him for letting another Chiropteran escape, but she couldn’t control herself. “This is an order.”

It was too late by the time she regretted it. The tension in the air made her chest hurt.

Haji silently turned his back and began setting the table, preparing the dishes and tea utensils. Saya watched his back, clutching her blanket tightly. She felt terribly awkward. Her normally sharp, confident brows drooped in dismay.

She had given him an order. Back when she lived in the zoo, giving orders to people felt natural. More accurately, she didn’t even understand what giving orders meant. After she began feeling the frustration of wanting to leave, she often issued unreasonable demands. Both Haji and Joel would gently admonish her but would ultimately indulge her with a smile.

But things were different now. She was no longer that ignorant child.

Lost in thought, Saya felt Haji’s hand gently touch her shoulder. His hand rested on her shoulder blade, supporting her delicate back. Though it was a familiar gesture, it made Saya feel uneasy after her earlier outburst.

A warm, sweet scent tickled her nose. She saw a cup being offered to her, a mug with handles on both sides.

“It’s apple kisel, a thickened apple drink. Since you just woke up, something like this would be good for you.”

Encouraged gently, Saya realized for the first time how tense she had been. She took the wooden spoon, beautifully decorated with vivid patterns, and brought the thickened drink to her lips. The tension melted away as she savored it.

Saya smiled, forgetting the earlier awkwardness. It was the first natural expression since she woke up. “Delicious…”

The simple sweetness of boiled apples and sugar, thickened slightly, seeped through her newly awakened body.

When she finished, her stomach growled loudly.

Embarrassed by the attention, Saya blushed and tried to explain, but her stomach wouldn’t quiet down. Haji smiled faintly and served her a bowl of soup.

Saya accepted it without thinking, then suddenly remembered her previous words. She had told him not to help her.

“I can do it myself. I really want to handle things on my own. Haji, you should take some time to rest and do something for yourself.”

“I already spend plenty of time on myself,” Haji replied calmly. Saya could sense his concern, and she insisted further.

“I don’t want to burden you anymore. I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

For a brief moment, Haji’s expression seemed as if he wanted to say something, but he remained silent and lowered his gaze.

“…I understand.”

Haji quietly left the room. Saya looked down at the soup. It was a hearty meal with a dough skin filled with minced meat.

“Thank you for the meal.”

Following her appetite, Saya ate the soup quickly. The plate was soon empty, so she got up for a second helping. The blue and gold-painted Khokhloma pot on the wagon Haji had brought still held plenty of soup, along with a heap of blini.

Saya’s body requires a lot of energy, especially when she doesn't drink blood. She needs a large amount of food. Haji is always well-prepared—Saya thought as she paused for a moment.

This large amount of soup…

(Haji prepared this especially because I hesitated to take his blood before.)

(I'll eat it all.)

Saya gripped her spoon tightly. Just as the pot was emptied, there was a knock on the door. If it were Haji, he would have called out.

Suspicious, Saya opened the door.

"—Everyone?"

There stood Valery, Rodion, Kirill, and Eduardo. Tension ran through Saya. It was her first time meeting the group since that night. Moreover, she had let another Chiropteran escape.

"May we come in for a report?" Valery said without making eye contact. He wanted a report on that night. It was only natural. Saya had no right to refuse.

"Yes..."

Saya invited the four into the room. She hurriedly pushed the dishes aside on the table and took a seat. The members each sat down, except for Rodion, who leaned against the fireplace.

The heavy atmosphere reminded Saya of her first day in Russia.

Rodion, who had called her a weapon that day, eventually warmed up to her, or so she thought. But the look of shock on his face when he saw her wounds heal before his eyes was unforgettable.

When Saya finished explaining her actions, Valery spoke with a stern expression.

"We have to acknowledge that the Chiropterans have become more active since Saya arrived in Petrograd."

"Yes, the first encounter seemed coincidental, but the second time it was clear they were targeting our mansion," Kirill said seriously.

Rodion, still leaning against the fireplace, also seemed to be deep in thought.

"Schwa said they might have collaborators, and that could be a possibility."

"We haven’t found the body from the first attack on the citizens, even though we’ve been searching for it," Rodion added.

Although called "Saya" and "Chevalier" in an official tone, the conversation flowed as if Saya wasn’t there.

Saya listened in silence, realizing this was the true distance between her and them. Suddenly, Eduardo, who had been silent and thoughtful, spoke in a restrained voice.

"Everyone."

Understanding his tone, they all fell silent.

"—Saya, are you awake?"

The next moment, Tanya opened the door and entered the room.

"Ah, it’s a visit for Saya. How is she?" she asked as she entered. She glanced at the pot on the wagon and added, "She seems to be doing well."

Before Saya could find her words, Tanya had already started tidying the bed. Relieved from the tense atmosphere, Saya felt a moment of comfort.

"Tanya... about that night—"

Saya had stood up silently and was about to leave the room, causing tension among the members. Only then did Saya realize she had spoken. Her words were born out of the joy of having Tanya there despite moving mansions, and the comfort of Tanya’s unchanged demeanor.

"What is it?" Tanya asked without turning around or stopping her work. The members watched Saya's face intently.

"—It's nothing," Saya forced herself to appear calm. She needed to maintain her composure, but her heart pounded against her will.

That night, Tanya had seen her confronting the Chiropteran with her sword, covered in blood.

Even though Tanya was hired with the condition not to pry, she must have been terrified.

(Terrified of me—)

Since the day they first met, Tanya had given Saya unreserved smiles. But now...

(If she saw me like that, surely—)

Saya unconsciously clutched her chest. However, Tanya’s round back continued to sway cheerfully. Without stopping her work, Tanya spoke casually.

"Honestly, with all the recent demonstrations and strikes, I thought things were getting dangerous. But I didn’t think they'd attack a mansion. It’s hard to tell who the real villains are."

"Demonstrations..." Saya looked at the members. Eduardo nodded slowly.

Saya had heard about the frequent riots recently, fueled by shortages due to the prolonged war and the gap in lifestyle between citizens and the nobility. Even when she was invited to a duchess’s champagne party, the coachman had given her a cold look.

The Red Shield likely decided to attribute the Chiropteran attack to the unrest among the citizens. But it was hard to believe that Tanya, who was there, would completely buy into that explanation.

Yet Tanya chose to believe it.

"If you can get up, shall I prepare your clothes?" Tanya turned around with her usual unchanged smile.

Saya, half-stunned, could only stare at her face. Tanya's eyes crinkled as she winked, her smile mischievous and all-encompassing.

She looked down.

The tension drained from her body—though she tried to suppress it, the tears spilled out uncontrollably.

These were the first tears Saya had shed since arriving in Russia.

Even as Saya wept, Tanya said nothing, enveloping her in warm silence.

Saya finally understood the concept of comforting silence.

Wiping her eyes, Saya lifted her face resolutely.

"I’ll be out soon, so prepare something easy to move in."

As she spoke, she approached the window and opened the curtain. She saw frost patterns clinging to the frozen glass.

Beyond the glass, nothing was visible.

The blizzard was still raging.

Earlier, when she went outside, she had been half-unconscious. She hadn’t realized it was snowing so heavily.

Saya finally understands why Haji sounded so exasperated. Tanya, noticing Saya standing frozen, smiles and speaks.

"It started snowing heavily right after we arrived yesterday. It's been like this ever since. No one goes out in this weather. Come on, close the curtain. The room will get cold again after we've just warmed it up."

"When will it stop?" Saya asks, her voice tinged with frustration. If she had been asleep for two full days, they had already lost a lot of time. The members who hadn't left the room yet also wore displeased expressions.

Tanya walks over to the window, takes the curtain from Saya’s hand, and quickly closes it. "Complaining about the weather won't change anything, will it? Besides, this is nothing unusual in this country. At times like this, it's best to think that God has given us a rest day and focus on things we can do indoors."

Saying this, Tanya heads to the next room. On the table, there is a basket with embroidery tools and a samovar. Seeing the baked goods, Saya's stomach growls again, even though she just finished a pot of soup.

"Um..." Saya murmurs, blushing. Tanya sighs and shakes her head but still quickly prepares tea for her. Unable to resist her hunger, Saya accepts and stuffs her mouth with the baked goods.

"Hey, you all come over too. Saya needs to change."

Calling out to the members who were standing there half-stunned, Tanya gets them to come over. When Saya emerges from the adjoining room in a comfortable dress, each of the members is given a cup with a holder and some baked goods. They look bewildered but take a bite.

Tanya, satisfied with this scene, looks around and smiles as if she’s thought of something. "I have just the thing for us to do together. Come with me."

She drags Valery out of the room. He soon returns, looking irritated and muttering, "Why do I have to do this...?" He places a basket full of chicken eggs on the table. Saya frowns.

"Are we going to eat them?"

"Just watch," Tanya lightly glares at Saya and begins drawing designs on the eggs with beeswax melted by a candle. Once the designs are complete, she dips the eggs into a bowl of dye. After dyeing, she carefully heats the eggs with a candle, melting the beeswax to reveal vibrant patterns where the dye did not penetrate.

"Easter eggs."

"That's right. You've made them before, haven't you?"

"Yeah, but only by painting them with a brush."

"Well, this is the Russian way. Each color and pattern has a meaning. For example, white represents purity and a blank slate for the future."

"A blank slate for the future," Saya repeats, and Tanya smiles.

"Do you want to try?"

"Yes."

Saya, naturally curious, takes the tools and an egg, her eyes sparkling. She focuses intently on the egg, mimicking Tanya's technique, and a small crease forms on her nose. Tanya watches her fondly and hands eggs to the other members as well.

"It's still a long way until Easter, and it's snowing outside," Kirill mutters while rolling an egg between his fingers. Tanya, unfazed, responds cheerfully.

"Just like a party starts with preparations, welcoming spring begins with getting ready."

"I will too..." Kiril rolled an egg with his fingers, resting his chin on his hand. "Things like this are more fun when you do them with a lot of people."

"I can't. I'm bad with detailed work. I've never been taught how to draw," Rodion quickly admitted defeat. Even so, he didn't seem inclined to leave the room. He pulled out a chair, sat down with the backrest facing forward, and leaned on it.

Valery, who had brought the eggs, glanced at Saya before standing up. "I'm busy, so excuse me."

"Busy? Wandering around the entrance hall? Maxim won't be coming here for a while in this blizzard. After all, he stayed behind at the other mansion for handling things," Kiril said, not even looking at Valery, who flushed with embarrassment.

"Wandering around, huh—Kiril, Valery," Edouard interjected, calling their names.

Both men quickly understood the meaning of his glance at Tanya and reluctantly returned to their eggs. Kiril muttered again, "I've never properly celebrated Easter before... isn't it said that a rabbit hides the eggs?"

"Why a rabbit for eggs?" Rodion asked, resting his chin on the back of his chair and dozing off near the fireplace.

Tanya replied, "Rabbits symbolize prosperity. They're special for Easter."

Saya, who had been staring intently at her egg, suddenly looked up. "Once, a rabbit I had laid an egg. It was only once, though."

Everyone fell silent at once. Saya, still engrossed in her egg, didn't notice the awkward atmosphere. "During one Easter, I was looking for eggs and found one pure white egg under a rabbit's belly."

"Um, Saya..." Tanya, unusually hesitant, called out to Saya.

Saya looked up. "You definitely saw that?"

"Of course. Haji and Joel saw it too."

Saya recalled that it happened when Haji hadn't yet outgrown her. Every year, finding eggs Joel hid in the mansion or the rose garden where they spent their afternoons was a cherished event. After Haji arrived, it became even more fun as they competed to find more eggs.

******

That day, after finding most of the hidden eggs in the mansion, Haji invited Saya to the garden. Realizing he was leading her towards the shed where they kept rabbits and ducks, Saya hesitated for a moment. Small animals were especially afraid of her.

"I've already searched there," she said.

"Just come," Haji insisted, almost forcefully leading her to the rabbit shed. As they approached, all but one light brown rabbit dashed out to the grassy area outside. The lone rabbit remained nestled in fresh-smelling straw.

Haji, noticing Saya's reluctance to enter, gently checked under the rabbit's belly. The rabbit twitched its ears but stayed still. Carefully moving the straw, Haji found an egg distinctly different from those Joel had prepared. It was a pure white egg, tenderly cradled by the rabbit.

Saya wanted to rush over but restrained herself. Haji carefully picked up the egg and placed it in Saya's hand.

The egg was faintly warm. Held on Saya's palms by Haji, she was bewildered by the warmth emanating from it. It was the heat of a small living creature. Of course, Saya knew that rabbits don't lay eggs, but today was Easter.

"I have to show this to Joel!"

Saya dashed off, not hearing Haji's call. She was eager to tell Joel about the new life she felt in the egg's warmth.

"Joel was so happy and said it was a miracle because it was Easter," Saya recalled, smiling gently at the memory. Nobody commented on her nostalgic expression.

******

"I did it!"

Saya exclaimed as she finished dyeing her egg.

"Let's see—"

Tanya, looking over Saya's shoulder, was speechless again. The drawing on the pink-dyed egg, with its wavy and intertwined lines, was almost unrecognizable.

Kiril glanced at Saya's egg and muttered, "Terrible."

Saya pouted at his harsh remark. "It's hard to draw on something so small! How's yours, Kiril?"

"Shut up, I'm working on it—"

Kiril gently placed his egg, with its wax-removed white patterns, on the table. A round shape was drawn on the black surface. Saya guessed, "A snowman?"

"No!"

"A rabbit?"

"Yes, a rabbit," Kiril confirmed.

Saya scrutinized Kiril's egg again. It could resemble a rabbit with some imagination. "It kind of looks like a rabbit."

"That's a bit rude, don't you think?" Kiril said

"What?" Saya asked.

Kiril turned away, saying, "I drew it because you looked so happy talking about rabbits."

"Anyway, our education program didn't include this kind of thing. It's not our fault if we lack artistic talent." Kiril added.

"Education program?" Tanya frowned at the term. Saya quickly diverted the conversation.

"But Valery's egg is really good." Saya said.

Valery, who had been working silently, had created a beautifully geometric egg, far surpassing anything the others had done in the same time. What started as a distraction became genuine admiration from Saya.

"Valery, you're amazing!" She beamed.

Valery looked surprised at Saya's praise, his cheeks faintly reddening. He averted his gaze when he noticed Saya watching and pushed up his glasses, replying gruffly, "I just followed the patterns."

"But being able to do that is amazing," Saya sighed, comparing her egg to Valery's.

"Eduardo’s egg is beautiful too,” Saya complimented.

“But, yours and Kirill’s eggs are bold and colorful,” Eduardo added calmly. His words never sounded like mere flattery. “I couldn’t do that myself.”

Tanya nodded in agreement, “Exactly, it’s not about being good or bad. On a day when we can’t go anywhere, the meaning lies in making these together and learning the symbolism from our parents. For instance, the diamond pattern symbolizes knowledge and wisdom.”

As Tanya spoke, she placed her eggs one by one in each member’s hands.

“The wolf’s teeth pattern symbolizes loyalty and wisdom,” she explained, handing an egg to Eduardo first and then to Kirill.

“The sun and stars represent life, fortune, and growth.”

“The ram’s horns signify leadership and strength, and the spider symbolizes patience,” she said, giving the first egg to Valery and laughingly handing the second to Rozion.

“Now, for Saya—how about a bird? The bird represents the realization of hopes.”

Saya accepted an egg depicting a bird that wasn’t in flight.

(The realization of hopes…)

Saya muttered this quietly, while Rozion, who was also fidgeting with his egg, got up from his chair.

“…This is kind of interesting. I’ll make one too.”

“Oh, you’re in the mood now?” Tanya said in surprise. Rozion picked a white egg from the basket and retorted, “I’m sure I can do better than Kirill.”

Kirill’s well-shaped eyebrows immediately furrowed.

“You don’t understand the meaning of the egg at all,” Kirill snapped.

“Huh? We’ve been stuck in this mansion for two days. I’m a paragon of patience,” Rozion retorted.

“Both of you, keep it down. It’s just an Easter egg,” Valery scolded, but no real fight broke out. Each member selected an egg and started working on it. At some point, Rozion accidentally touched a wax-melting tool and shouted.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Ouch! Be careful, Kirill!”

Kirill, looking unbothered, said, “Didn’t mean to.��

“You did that on purpose.”

“You think I’d do something so crude?”

Kirill responded nonchalantly and then turned away, muttering under his breath, “If it were on purpose, I wouldn’t miss.”

“You really are—”

“Ah, enough already. You’re so noisy,” Tanya said with a grimace, then glanced at Saya and gave a small smile. As if to say, “Boys will be boys,” Saya smiled back. In these moments, they seemed just like ordinary boys their age.

Meanwhile, the snowstorm continued to batter the windows relentlessly, but the room they were in was warm and cozy.

“Saya, is something wrong with the screen?” Tanya’s voice brought Saya back to reality, and she realized she had been touching the wooden screen unconsciously. The others looked at her curiously.

Saya explained, “This? In France, they say touching something made of wood can make happy times last longer.”

“Happy times?” Valery, frowning under his glasses, repeated skeptically. The others also paused their work and looked at Saya with puzzled expressions.

"Yes," Saya's earlobes grew hot. "There's not enough tea, right? I'll prepare some!" She quickly got up to hide her embarrassment. Watching her leave, Valery muttered, "She says strange things."

"We're just acting normally, right?" Rogion asked. For once, Kirill nodded in agreement. "To her, normal wasn't normal," Edoardo said.

"Don't be careless, Edoardo," Kirill admonished him. But Tanya, looking sorrowfully at the door Saya exited, didn't hear their words. As Saya stepped into the hallway, she sighed. Though her words came out impulsively, she felt she had said something silly.

Everyone must be irritated from being trapped inside by the blizzard. This isn’t the time to be doing such things. (Once the blizzard stops, we'll head into town to search for clues about the Chiropterans.)

While walking briskly to gather herself, Saya encountered Hagi pushing a cart with tea sets and snacks in the middle of the hallway. "I thought it might be about time for more," Hagi said calmly.

"Thank you... I'll help you carry it," Saya said, feeling a bit awkward. She reached for the cart to assist when she noticed her dress pocket was bulging. She put her hand in and pulled out the contents. "Oh, I forgot—I’ll give you this. We all made them together."

Saya offered Hagi two Easter eggs she had unknowingly put in her pocket earlier. Hagi smiled gently at Saya's generous gesture. "These are yours, aren't they?"

"It's fine." Saya looked at her own egg and the one Tanya had given her, comparing the two. She offered Hagi the one made by Tanya. But Hagi, quicker than her, picked up Saya's poorly made egg instead.

Saya spoke up involuntarily, "Ah!" "Is something wrong?" Hagi asked. "This one is prettier," Saya said. "But I prefer this one. May I have it?"

Saya couldn't refuse when he asked so kindly. "If that's what you want, it's fine. By the way, the white symbolizes a blank slate for tomorrow," she said reluctantly. Hagi carefully cradled the egg in his hand. "Thank you."

"What's wrong?" Saya asked, tilting her head as Hagi’s expression darkened slightly. He was looking at the egg thoughtfully. Tanya’s egg, which Saya had carefully put back into the pot, still puzzled her.

"Do you remember when the rabbit laid an egg one Easter?" Hagi asked. "Yes, I remembered that too," Saya replied. It was a little prank Hagi and Joel played to make Saya laugh by hiding a white egg.

Neither of them had expected Saya to actually believe it.

It might have been better if she had laughed, but as she eagerly reported to Joel, who had a brief sad smile directed at Haji, Haji never told Saya the truth.

He couldn’t bring himself to tell her.

Such a haughty young lady, older than him, had so easily taken the joke seriously. This made Haji keenly aware of how closed-off their world was, a special atmosphere that no one spoke of.

Saya murmured something that might have angered Kirill if he had heard: "Speaking of which, Kirill drew a picture of a rabbit, but it didn’t look much like a rabbit... actually, it didn’t look like a rabbit at all..."

Haji smiled wryly at her words, thinking to himself. Considering the isolated space they had lived in, Saya's world was now expanding rapidly.

She was slowly getting along with the Red Shield members, who used to see her only as a weapon. Reflecting on how they initially treated her, this was a joyful change.

But it made Haji feel a little lonely that Saya was now talking about other people. He had some concerns about fully trusting them.

Thinking about these things, Haji slightly shook his head.

(As long as Saya can be at peace, that’s all that matters.)

Haji silently watched Saya’s profile as she enthusiastically pushed the cart. Even for those who had lived in this country for a long time, snowy days were depressing.

******

In the makeshift hospital, which was originally a monastery, soldiers eagerly awaited the end of the blizzard.

A few days earlier, the Empress herself had visited to offer comfort. But the excitement from her visit had already faded in the face of the storm and the bleak war outlook.

A soldier lying in bed muttered, "The wind sounds like the devil’s scream."

"Don’t say such ominous things," another soldier immediately replied, though his voice lacked strength.

"You might really get taken away by a devil," another soldier said, half-jokingly. But everyone fell silent, looking serious.

"After all, he didn’t come back," someone said, glancing at an empty bed. Severely injured soldiers sent from the battlefield were sometimes moved to beds in the chapel on the same premises for special treatment with new drugs. But once moved there, they never returned to the main room. It was an unspoken understanding.

Of course, the empty beds were soon filled with new soldiers, which made the remaining ones anxious. They wondered if their situation would be properly reported to their families or lovers, or if they would be left in uncertainty.

Fighting for their homeland was a source of pride, but disappearing without anyone noticing was painful.

A soldier who hadn’t joined the conversation clenched the locket on his chest, which held a picture of his family. Just then, the door to the room opened.

The sound of footsteps, clacking away on the stone floors, echoed annoyingly through the building. The footsteps stopped in front of a soldier gripping a locket tightly.

The elderly doctor, personally appointed by the Empress, nodded silently, and the male nurses who had arrived with him placed the soldier on a stretcher.

Just as calmly as when they had arrived, they left the room. Once their figures disappeared behind the door, one of the remaining soldiers muttered bitterly.

"—Devils."

All the soldiers fell silent. Outside the room, a blizzard howled through the darkness.

#bloodplus: russian rose #blood+ russian rose #russian rose vol 2 #rr: volume 2 #rr: volume 2 chapter 1

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nymphsconstancy · 20 days ago

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i actually have a lot of thoughts about rhine and why she's like that! way more than i thought i did. see under the cut for a lot of soundboarding/internal theorising:

explanation 1: rhinedottir's like that because of abyssal corrosion. we know from the little witch description that she has "precious little lucid time," which i'm personally taking to mean that she experiences something like the 'living hallucinations' we see in natlan's interlude chapter. unfortunately, i don't think this holds up as well - from what i remember, they were described as fairly permanent, where rhine seems to be fairly back-and-forth? so it could go either way on this one.

explanation 2 (sort of joking, sort of not): little witch vol 3 is an allegory for either rhine herself or for her kids. rhine's experiencing the "dissonance in self-perception and self-dissociation" that the mold demon king is. her 'truth of the world' is something like the mold's questions about senses of self, and in rhine's case she's more like. who can 'i' be when the world itself is illusory? i'm leaning pretty heavily on simulanka for this one, and i'd otherwise discard it, but tomorrow we're getting hexenzirkel information and little witch volume 2 is set on the same day, so. you never know!

explanation 3: rhine genuinely sees nothing wrong with what she's doing. this one relies a lot on concepts of 'vision' - as in literal sight, for once - and not so much the way that rhinedottir sees the world, but the way that her children do.

albedo's an exception to the rule, but all of rhinedottir's 'children' and related creations have differences in their perceptions of the world. durin sees his destruction during the cataclysm as both a form of play and a dance with dvalin, the rifthounds want to both 'replace' the real wolves out of jealousy and to 'make names for themselves' per the wolflord description, and elynas and the melusines both have different perceptions of what makes the world 'beautiful'. i think subject 2 fits into this pattern, following the same ideal as the riftwolves - replacing the ideal in the hopes of acknowledgement, or something like that?

so there's an established pattern of gold's creations having warped perceptions of the world. worth noting also is that they do not understand death, with the exception of sigewinne and elynas. in line with that, i think it would make sense if rhine herself also saw the world differently, and instead of the cold rhinedottir who taught albedo and the colder rhine who discarded all of her earlier creations, it was all just one version of her, who saw cause but not consequence, who like her creations did not understand that she brought death with her actions? a lot of this is more inference than anything, but it's the theory i'm most fond of

I'm thinking about Rhinedottir again, I find it so hard to place her motives and personality. She is one of the five sinners, has created many monsters and even abandoned her creation. Albedo describes her as cold and strict yet cares deeply about her and Rhinedottir spoke very lovingly of Albedo as her only child. She is also a dear friend to Alice and at least an ally to Barbatos. The latter is especially interesting considering how much her creations has caused trouble for Mondstadt. I like the conflicting dynamics and reputations she has but I wonder how things have played out. Hopefully in this patch we'll be able to get more answers.

#rhinedottir's just. such an interesting character. you're right that there's so much we don't know about her... i hope we know more soon #i hadn't even thought about venti and the hexenzirkel before!! you're right!!#i need to do a reread of everything we have that relates to rhine...#you're totally right that it could be a curse too - with vedrfolnir's blinding it's feasible that the other 'sinners' have something going #on*... which brings us back to waiting for more lore.#🌼lore #character: rhinedottir

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justxaxstrayxkid · 4 years ago

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Ranking every outfit Nora has worn

I've rated her human names and I've ranked her vessel names. Now it is time to rank all of her outfits 10 to 1. Why am I doing this? Because I'm a sucker for pretty clothes and babygirl is a fashion icon. These are just my opinions obviously so don't take them seriously. Though I am being dead serious when I say Mizuchi invented the fashion industry. What I want people to take away from this post is that we, as a society, need to respect Mizuchi's drip. No pun intended hehe

10. Childhood Kimono

No sense calling it the childhood kimono when she's always gonna be a child but idk what else to call this. I put this fit last because it's quite basic. There's not much to talk about here. I don't have any particular feelings towards it either. I do think the pink obi is cute. Mainly cuz pink is my favorite color. Also is it just me or does the kimono look way too big on her?

9. Childhood Kimono Enhanced ver.

This is the same exact fit as the last one and it only appeared in the one-shot manga bout Rabo and Yato but I want to rank it separately because of her accessory. She's just too cute with that little bow in her hair! Don't mind me fangirling over that bow like it's a national treasure. The sandals are nice new touch too.

8. Pink Kimono

This one is only shown in anime during the flashback scene where Yato massacred the ma clan. I love this kimono because it's in my favorite shade of pink. There isn't much to say about it though. It's pretty basic so I put in this spot

7. Volume 8 Kimono

This fit appeared on the cover of volume 8 of the manga. I have to admit, this fit is kinda crazy. Like the grape (??) socks, the random checkerboard pattern, the green hiyoku, the flower pattern, the flower in her hair. It all seems very random. But I actually think it goes together well! A hot mess can sometimes turn out beautiful. I like the way she looks with a flower in her hair. Mizuchi with hair accessories equals world domination. And why tf does that ayakashi doggie have a paper crane in its mouth? That's more random than the outfit lmao.

6. Fruit bowl Kimono

This one only appeared in a colored page of the manga. Can't remember what chapter or volume it was in exactly but I think it was in beginning. This kimono is very beautiful. The pattern on it reminds me of fruit bowls lol. Babygirl rlly has the best fashion sense ever. You can't change my mind on that. And she's wearing a hair accessory here! Rejoice!

5. Boysenberry Kimono

I think the color is boysenberry but I’m not sure. My eyesight isn’t that good. So this fit is from a Kami To Enishi card. The game is discontinued but I just couldn’t not add this fit in. It’s so pretty! The color of the kimono matches her eyes which is my favorite aspect of the outfit. I think the pattern on it is supposed to be temari balls. Or maybe it's supposed to be beach balls. Of course we can’t forget to mention the bow! Tbh I don’t think it matches with the rest of the fit. But hey, it matches better than the whole volume 8 ensemble. I still like the bow and I’m glad she’s wearing it!

4. Capybara Fit

First of all, how the heck do you spell capybara? I’ve seen it spelled in 5 different ways. Second of all, I LOVE THIS FIT MORE THAN MY FUTURE CHILDREN! Seriously it’s so cute! She rocked the whole world when she put this on. I screeched when I first read the chapter this was in. That's the sheer power of this outfit.

3. Yurei Fit

Next is babygirl's classic outfit, the yurei outfit! This fit is so iconic I had to put it in the top three. I have a lot to say about it. In a way, this fit is part of the reason why I got into Noragami. Like I'm an avid horror fan and I especially love any media that has to do with yurei. Yurei are Japanese ghosts for those of you who don't know. I saw a gif of Mizuchi here on tumblr and her character design caught my eye. I thought Noragami was going to be in the horror genre because of this fit. If she wasn't wearing this fit, I probably wouldn't have become interested in Noragami at all. Thank you to the yurei fit for getting me into this amazing series. I love her personal touches to it. Like the way she wears her hitaikakushi slanted, her big obi, her gauntlets, and her hiyoku. Her hiyoku had this lil flower pattern on it in the first few chapters. That was super adorable. It's a shame she never wears it again. Yurei are usually depicted just wearing a simple white kimono and with long hair. But babygirl has her own personal touches and she has a bob cut. She is rlly out here being a trendsetter for dead people in Japan. A round of applause for this fit.

2. Flower print Kimono

Excuse the poor quality pic. You've probably figured out by now that I have a thing for flower patterns lol. That's exactly the reason why this is my second favorite outfit of hers. It's one of her more simple fits. But I think it's to die for! Pun fully intended ;) If I remember correctly, in the past, she and baby Yato stole this from someone they killed. Sorry but I find that hilarious. R.i.p to whoever this kimono belonged to. You may have been killed but you didn't die in vain because a rlly cute girl has your kimono now. I wonder if babygirl would ever pull this out of her closet and wear it again. She may not even have it anymore since the flashbacks where she wore this were like centuries before Noragami takes place. This kimono might've already become tasty grub for moths :(

1. School uniform Fit

Of course, the school uniform is first. This fit literally invented the fashion industry! No one can tell me otherwise. Words can't fathom how cute babygirl looks in this. As a school girl who's been to multiple schools with uniforms, I think I'm qualified to say that Mizuchi looks better than anyone else in a school uniform. It's not just how she looks either but also the fact that Hiyori gave it to her. That really warms my heart. This fit did so much for the world. Like I've said before, it will go down in history as one of the best things to happen in fiction.

#nora noragami #noragami #mizuchi #hiiro #tsutsumi #furuhime #eyami #nora the fashion icon #if i missed an outfit don't tell me #i'll probably cry if i find out #it took me days to make this

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ziggatoast-review · 3 years ago

Text

Review no. 6

Gerard & Jacques - Vol. 1

Author: Fumi Yoshinaga

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Genre: Yaoi, Historical, Drama

Publisher: Blu Manga

Publication Date: June 5th, 2006

Chapters in Volume: 6 chapters

Volumes in Series: 2

Maturity Rating: 18+

3 words: Confusing|Amusing|Haunting

1 sentence: "I don't think that I can accurately describe in one sentence how much I both disliked and somehow slightly enjoyed this volume: the story has so many plot holes and is bad to the point of it being a great laugh."

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Out of 10

Plot Pacing: 3/10, was occasionally difficult to follow, given that there would sometimes be two or even three time skips within a chapter, with no context, and little to no mention of how much time had passed. Not to mention the odd placement of a backstory for one of the main characters that just completely flipped things around. Admittedly, it was a decent place to put the backstory, but once again it had multiple, unexplained time skips: I could've seen the backstory working better if there had been more alluding to it in the previous chapters. I also think that the TWO chapters that took up the backstory could've been summarized by one and if it had put more context as to how it fully linked to the current time of the story.

Characters: 2/10, none of the characters in this volume are at all well rounded in my opinion. The lack of sustenance to all of them makes me glad I only paid 50¢ for this godforsaken BL. With what little rounding the author did attempt to give to Gerard genuinely made no sense to me, and it took up TWO chapters. What could've been done with two chapters was try to round out the character rather than try to excuse his blatant pedophilia (look, I'm sure the author was just trying to make it "realistic" with Jacques's age in concordance with the time, but at the time of its publication, one should not romanticize a 16-year-old and a full-blown adult (not to mention there was not clear consent given)) and shitty actions.

Romantic Development: 1/10, with the age range that I mentioned in the last section of this review, mixed with the fact that it became a one-sided some-what longing, there is basically no romantic development to this manga at all, and honestly, at this point, I don't know if the writer was even trying to add any romance into it.

Art: 5/10, honestly the art is the only saving grace at this point. Even then it's not great. Of course, it followed the patterned style of the early 2000s manga, but there were several points where the anatomy seemed to be extremely off. But then again, that could just be a fellow artist nit-picking too much.

Overall: A surprising 2.75/10

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Who I would recommend this to:

-Most likely, I would not recommend this to anyone, unless they were looking for a hilariously terrible manga.

I have the second volume as well- I plan on reading and reviewing that one as well, wish me luck.

#bl manga #manga review #terrible manga #Gerard & Jacques

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danisnotofire · 7 years ago

Note

howdy!! i'm a writer too and i'm searching for some sweet fellow-writer-y advice: what tips do you use to make individual characters' dialogue unique? i'm editing a novel draft (barely lol) and i always love finding out what other people do!

HELLO! i betcha didn’t think it’d take YEARS for me to answer this, but better late than never, right? right?

anyway, here are some things i always think about when doing dialogue:

every single character has a specific way of talking. i don’t mean accent or dialect or lisp or whatever. those things should never be straight-written into dialogue.

that means NO ‘theriously guyth my lithp ithnt that bad’ when writing with a lisp, no ‘wut the fuck’re yew tawkin’ abert’ when trying to convey an accent.

you could try something like, “what the fuck are you talking about?” she asked in a slow and heavy texas drawl.

similarly, stutters aren’t usually “i t-t-thought that we’d b-be able to t-talk?”. they’re easier to read and a lot more effective when written something more like, “i thought that- i thought maybe we could talk?”

but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a character sound different just based on how they speak. think syntax. think speaking patterns. do they speak in run-on sentences? do they stutter? do they go back on what they say halfway through a sentence? are they an ‘um’ or an ‘uh’ type? what words do two different characters use to say the same thing?

“Hey, so, I was walking down the street the other day and I caught sight of you but I wasn’t sure if it was you so I didn’t say anything ‘cause that would’ve been so weird if it wasn’t, but did you happen to be walking by that 7/11 last night?” vs “Hey, were you at 7/11 last night? I think I saw you, but I wasn’t sure.”

you probably got a more bright/excited/rambly energy from the first one right? that’s run-ons. asking questions that they don’t wait to hear an answer for. repeating themselves a little bit. The second one isn’t bad, it’s just a different type of character. probably a little more calm.

learn your dialogue grammar. here’s a handy post about it. your dialogue sounds INFINITELY better right off the bat if your reading isn’t getting stuck on glaring irregularities. in my creative writing class last semester, my prof literally had us hand-copy a page of dialogue from a short story so we could get them down. dialogue rules are like mis-built stairs– the second that something isn’t exactly to standard, it’s going to be brutally obvious.

relatedly, you’re allowed to use words that aren’t ‘said’. But use them sparingly. If you do use them, shake it up by throwing in an action. Even in scenes where you need to use synonyms for said, you can often replace them with actions that convey the same emotion.

“Fuck you.” She slammed the kitchen cabinet, then whirled around to face him. “I want you to leave.”

“Of course.” He swiped his sleeve across his nose, ignoring the coffin that sat two feet away. “I’m sorry.”

word choice. the coolest thing about writing dialogue is that it’s not 100% how we speak in real life. you’re a writer, you lie. you want the reader to be fooled into thinking real people talk exactly like this, but you have the added advantage of knowing exactly how the conversation gets to play out. why did that character use that specific word? why did they phrase it like that? were they foreshadowing this huge event in a line they said off-handedly in chapter 2? yes! you get to be in control of that! people’s words in written dialogue can be chosen so much more carefully than they necessarily are in real life, because you as the author know the story. you can have them imply or foreshadow or reference or insinuate anything. have fun with that power, because it’s awesome!

going off that, what aren’t they saying? think about what your characters are trying to get across. think about what they’re too afraid to say out loud. think about things they want to convey without actually physically saying them. so much can be said by what isn’t said.

i wrote a short story once that focused on hallucinations and what they were telling the protagonist. the whole point of it was that, at the end, she looked at something that she expected to talk to her, but it didn’t say a word. and that spoke volumes.

take dialogue inspiration from everything around you! one of my writing profs told me dialogue was one of my strongest points as a writer, and he thought it had something to do with my theatre experience [which makes sense! scripts are 99.999% dialogue!!!!] i went through a phase when i was younger where i would transcribe every conversation i had in my head into words, just to think about how it would look as text. most of all, practice it. dialogue is just another writing skill. it’s only gonna get better if you, y’know, do it.

the bright side of that is that you do dialogue every day. you see it in movies and musicals and tv shows and in overheard conversations on the train or in the coffee shop. it’s everywhere. it’s how we communicate! talking/communicating is how we get our gossip and our information and our diagnoses and our education! it pushes our lives along! it’s amazing, and getting to control every aspect of those inherently human interactions is one of my favorite parts of writing.

of course, dialogue is a fluid thing. people have been experimenting with it since writing was invented. because there are an infinite amount of ways to hold a conversation, and an infinite amount of ways to interact with each other, there isn’t one single correct way to do dialogue.

of course, if you’re writing a standard novel or fic or piece or whatever, then it’s best to stick to the rules. but if you wanna try something new, go for it! i love experimenting with style and how that contributes to a story. faulkner had some fun with dialogue in the sound and the fury (i’m thinkin chapter 2 with quentin, especially his conversations with his father), where the stylistic blurriness of the conversation said a whole lot about quentin’s state of mind. there’s also some fun dialogue choices in nicole krauss’ the history of love, where she doesn’t always do the standard new-speaker-new-paragraph thing, which adds something to the story as well.

there’s so much you can do with it to make it come alive and make your characters sound unique. i hope these helped, because they’re kinda what i base everything on myself!! <3333 happy writing :D

#my favorite of these is the word choice/syntax/speech pattern thing #i think thats 80% of my dialogue is just figuring out the speaking patterns of the character #which can also lead to a lot of problems when i can't quite figure that out lol #writing tips #writing #advice #long post //#crizps

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