#power display; • Bracelet fitness: step count

[sunlitneon]

Fashion - Become an Alpha Male

To come to be an alpha Jewellery Design Competition  male you need to recognise how to mission yourself within the satisfactory viable mild. Image may be defined as a intellectual concept of an individual.

Our photo of someone is created with the aid of the beliefs that we have approximately that person. It can be the impressions we form when meeting someone new or it is able to be an character's popularity that has evolved over the years. Our impression about other humans may be based totally on how they look, speak or behave. A character's standard image might also consist of a variety of things, inclusive of their apparel, grooming, voice tone, vocabulary, frame language and social behaviours. Your picture is so crucial because other human beings will make assumptions primarily based on constrained facts. For instance, any person can be perceived as sincere because they keep strong constant eye contact. They may be judged as succesful, expert, a success, intelligent and wealthy due to the fact they're nicely dressed. The opposite is likewise true. This chapter will focus on the way to create a powerful and superb image through dress feel and style.

In all societies during history, style has served as a hallmark of social reputation and cultural belonging. It is authentic that the way in which people dress declares their area in a given society.

Military uniforms offer a very obvious indication of energy, repute and rank. By adopting a uniform you're making a clean statement of your alliances. In politics, leaders of nations will deliberately modify their appearance while coping with foreign cultures. Eastern leaders will dress of their personal fashion of their own united states however when travelling and negotiating with a Western country, they will abandon their traditional clothing in favour of a Western-fashion in shape. Similarly, European politicians will cautiously calibrate their wardrobes to set up a hyperlink with a selected target market.

Perhaps the best example of the strength of appearance passed off in the course of the televised 1960 presidential debates among John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon. Kennedy seemed younger, tanned and comfortable in his slim-reduce match. Nixon had a five o'clock shadow, seemed rumpled and perspired in the course of the talk. After the debates, polls indicated that people who had listened at the radio overwhelmingly idea that Nixon had come out on pinnacle. But among people who noticed the debates on tv, the massive majority felt that Kennedy had achieved a far advanced activity. And all of us know how that election grew to become out.

Fashion Tips 1

Many men have serious issues with regards to fashion. It can price a lot and garb trends and patterns exchange so speedy. Of route, there is no simple option to fashion. Everyday your fashion may additionally trade relying on a variety of various factors. This section will educate you, intensive, the satisfactory way to look your absolute pleasant, in every state of affairs. Once you are completed studying it, pass over the principle factors to internalise the lessons and your fashion feel will improve dramatically.

Take Note of Stylish People

The first step of favor excellence is to grow to be aware about what other humans are carrying. Compliment human beings on their styles and in case you see someone who's specially properly-dressed, do not hesitate to prevent and ask them in which they bought it. You will select up more fashion guidelines on this way than you could likely realise. Most human beings will pretty thankfully tell you the nice shops to keep in and you will have a much higher information of what is in fashion, what to put on on certain activities, and how to great spend your money. When you are flicking through magazines, make a mental notice of the pleasant dressed celebrities, specially if they're photographed over numerous days, wearing exclusive clothes. Make observe of the colors and the styles and exit and purchase a mix and match of comparable gadgets. Every style icon began out through emulating the fashion of others and this is one of the exceptional methods to get your fashion up to the mark.

Make Sure your Clothes Fit

So many humans overlook this vital precept. Most guys who see a dressmaker jacket for a bargain fee will purchase it despite the fact that it a length too large. It's so important which you put on suit you perfectly. If your pinnacle is too big, the extra material can make it look like you are swimming to your shirt. If you are of a slender build, simplest put on unmarried or double breasted blazers and make certain to tailor them so that they suit properly in the course of your entire frame. Make certain to avoid any free material underneath the arms or in the shoulder vicinity. An oversized blazer that does not suit your measurements will go away you looking sloppy. There are sure fashion procedures that you could rent to cover your very own flaws and accentuate your bodily attributes. No count number what your frame kind, there's a private fashion of dressing to be able to fit your needs great. With jeans, this is specially relevant. Starting out, the maximum dramatic improvement you may make on your style is to make sure the whole lot fits. Sizes will vary with special brands however proper fit is crucial. Bad suit is a deadly disease, remedy your self.

Queer Eye for the Straight Guy

Who amongst all your buddies has the excellent style feel? Going purchasing with someone who has remarkable flavor is continually a wonderful idea. Make sure they're sincere with you and are comfortable enough to inform you what does not appearance good on you. The folks who work in the shop can often lead you off beam by choosing the most costly object over the one that surely suits you first-class. Stick with your pal's opinion and agree with them enough to go away your consolation sector. If the advise something that sticks out a little, go together with it and see what response you get. By standing out, you painting a whole lot of self confident and other humans will frequently perceive you as exciting. If you're in a party, women may also open communique with you via commenting for your attire. The subsequent time you are buying along with your friend, strive on some objects you usually would shrink back from. You may be amazed at how tons they fit you.

Men's Jewellery

Recently guys's jewellery has visible a renaissance. Now, a new technology of young, city metrosexuals are seemingly secure sufficient with revealing their female aspect to put on a pendants, rings, bracelets and jewelry. Although men's jewelry nonetheless represents a fraction of typical jewellery income, the MTV bling appearance has helped promote diamond-faced watches as well as huge diamond earrings. Mass market jewelry stores have cottoned on to this trend and are in a race to get actors to advise their huge variety of fellows's jewellery. Tiffany had quietly increased its ordinary watch and cufflink collections to encompass silver pendants, rings and bracelets.

When pics of Brad Pitt seemed in magazines, displaying the actor wearing a silver pendant and cufflinks for the movie Oceans Twelve, men were out looking to buy "Brad Pitt" portions. Similarly, Orlando Bloom has been photographed carrying guys's jewellery on mag covers and the actor Johnny Depp is well known for his leather-based bracelets. George Clooney has additionally been seen sporting jewelry in a totally understated, assured manner. It's now not unexpected then that jewelry stores will paintings the celeb circuit in any feasible manner. At this year's Cannes festival, there was a determined race to dress movie stars with brilliant attire, footwear and jewellery. The jeweller Chopard employed the entire ground of the Majestic hotel dedicated to a heavily guarded treasure suite so that it will trap celebrities to borrow a number of their jewels for the occasion. Also new pieces had been flown in day by day from Geneva for actors to borrow.

Award shows and fashion shows are becoming all essential show off arenas for jewellery shops. Competition among jewellery makers is increasing because the market for jewelry and guys's jewelry expands with the increase of economies in Asia and america. In truth, some thing a person can put on show is the important thing to nifty accessorising. According to new studies out via Verdict, British men now spend £1.1billion a yr on add-ons, one fifth of this is spent on jewellery and watches. So as some distance as men are concerned, men's earrings may be just as critical an accessory as wearing a watch or wearing the cutting-edge cellular smartphone. The equal trend is seen in India, in which young guys appear greater open approximately revealing a extra feminine aspect. Jewellery shops in primary Indian cities have visible a increase in income of men's rings, bracelets and jewelry.

[jmeelee]

Hey! For the mini fic prompts, please can I request no. 21, things you said when we were on top of the world? For Sterek, if possible, but if you feel more inspired to write something for one of your other ships then go for it. Thank you!😊😘❤️

This prompt made me think SPACE!! So here is a Sterek + The 100 AU

The prisoners line up, two by two, a solemn procession through a wide, deserted corridor and down a steep launch ramp into the dropship, and the symbolism isn’t lost on Derek. Up until a week ago, Chancellor Argent probably fashioned himself a benevolent god, sparing two hundred juvenile delinquents from certain death while attempting to ensure the survival of the human race. But that death, while certain, was at least humane. A pin-prick to the vein and eternal oblivion. Today Chris Argent lords over the proceedings with a grim, stoic face as his only child—his daughter, Allison—boards the ship in her gray penitentiary jumpsuit, her heavy, rubber-soled boots squeaking against the floor, echoing over the persistent, invasive hum of the rocket engines. Today the Chancellor can’t deny what this really is: a probable suicide mission.

Allison makes her first of three stops before claiming her seat in the shuttlecraft, pausing in front of a guard who removes her handcuffs. Thus far, the guard has pushed each young man or woman roughly toward Nurse Melissa McCall, but he gently nudges Allison forward, a wary eye darting toward her father. With shaking fingers, Nurse McCall wipes antiseptic over the porcelain skin on the inside of Allison’s right arm, fastening a metal bracelet with colorful blinking lights around her wrist.

“It’s a vital transponder,” Melissa informs Allison. “With this, we’ll be able to monitor your blood pressure, breathing rate, radiation levels, and all sorts of things from right here in the control room of our space station.” Melissa offers a reassuring smile, but it trembles like her hands. Moments ago, Derek watched her fasten a transponder to the arm of her own son.

Now Allison faces to her father, the final stop on an assembly line sending kids to slaughter. He gives her the same canned speech he has to all the others. “When you walk onto this ship, you are hereby pardoned of your crimes. I hope you’ll use this chance to atone for your impermissible behaviors and mistakes. This is an unpress—“

Allison shoves her metal-cuffed wrist under his nose, stopping his spiel. This isn’t freedom, as her father would have the prisoners believe; she knows it, Chancellor Argent knows it, Melissa McCall and the rest of the Council know it. They’ve simply traded one set of shackles for another. She tilts up her chin and holds her father’s eye. “Good bye, Dad.” Derek swears more streaks of gray crop up at Argent’s temples, grooves deepening at the corners of his eyes. She turns away and takes her seat next to Scott McCall—the star-crossed lover for whom she’s defied both Colony law and her family—sitting back and letting Officer Camden Lahey fasten her harness. She doesn’t spare her father a second glance.

Chris Argent’s wounded face broadcasts so much pain Derek prays he’ll call an end to this crazed endeavor, but he straightens—the same steel in his spine hardens Allison’s, allowing her to walk with grace out of a detention cell and into what will likely become her coffin—continuing on with the pomp and circumstance. Derek’s rekindled hope burns out like a dying star.

When Derek averts his eyes from the dramatic family scene he spots who he’s searching for, prisoner 129, Stiles Stilinski, watching Derek with dawning horror, tension festering at the hunched line of his shoulders.

Stiles is smart. Too smart. Keen brown eyes take in Derek’s blue uniform, shirt fitting looser around his broad shoulders in the half-year they’ve been parted, and the other puzzle pieces snap into place. He’s working from the outside edges—extra rationing, his father’s execution, his stint in solitary confinement, this culling of convicts—but as he twists each piece this way and that in his mind’s eye, the picture becomes clear. There is a reason why capital punishment is the new norm for breaking the most mundane Colony laws. Their space station is dying; the powers that be are dropping extra cargo in the hopes of surviving a little longer. This time, it happens to be human cargo.

Every teenager who files into the ship brings Derek and Stiles closer together, until Stiles is passing right in front of him. Heat radiates from Stiles’ skin, like steam from a rare hot shower. Derek sways closer, imagines reaching across the infinitesimal space and having Stiles’ body under his hands one more time. He’s one of less than a dozen guards accompanying the prisoners to what will ultimately be their freedom, or their deaths; it would be so easy, and to do so after this period of separation would be a balm to his bruised soul. But now is not the time. The time has been cruelly stolen from them.

He’d happened upon Stiles, perched in a window seat on G deck during his first week on patrol. “This corridor is off limits,” Derek had told him, still high off the power trip of his newly earned guard title.

“Yes, sir.” Stiles offered a jaunty little salute and a sardonic smirk, and Derek was a goner. Stiles knew it, too, because he kept coming back, day after day, and Derek let him. Eventually, Derek had come to think of their meetings as cosmic kismet.

“Of all the windows on all the stations, you had to park your ass in mine,” Derek joked, watching Stiles doodle in his sketch pad with the graphite pencil Derek pilfered for him. “Why this particular window?”

“It has the best view,” Stiles whispered, brown eyes abandoning the page he’d been intently focused on, zeroing in on Derek’s face instead. But Stiles was right. Everyday, without fail, ten minutes before Derek’s shift was due to end, Earth came into view out the window, bursting with blues and greens and whites, the colors vivid, alive; nourishing their souls after a constant diet of stark, muted grey aboard the ship.

“When I see it, I feel like I’m on top of the world. Like anything is possible,” Stiles said. “It gives me hope for the future.”

“That’s funny,” Derek replied, heart beating a frantic tattoo against his sternum.

Stiles laughed, eyes twinkling. His face was pale as the moon under the circadian lights of the ship, a constellation of moles standing out in stark relief along his jawline. “Why is it funny? Because Earth is a toxic wasteland and won’t be able to support life for another hundred years?”

“No.” Derek smiled, softly. “Because that’s how I feel when I look at you.”

Now, as Stiles passes by, Derek feels anything but hopeful. Stiles shakes his head, the move tiny, imperceivable to anyone else, a flick of brown hair—grown long in his six-month confinement—off his forehead. Don’t be a hero, it screams.

He watches the transponder get fastened to Stiles wrist (I sucked a bruise there on our first night together), memorizes the hard line of Stiles’ mouth when the tiny needles inside the cuff pierce his pallid skin (his lips were always so soft when I kissed them). Derek shoves the memories to the back of his mind, where they need to stay if he has any hope of going through with this.

Once they’re all loaded into the shuttle, strapped into rows of harnessed seats, a Council member steps up to the small box mounted on the adjacent wall, presses a series of buttons, and a three-minute timer pops up onto the display, flashing green as it counts down. Hot beads of sweat roll down Derek’s spine, seeps through his shirt, but he ignores that, too.

00:03:00

When he’d first gotten wind of the culling, he’d gone straight to Erica Reyes—his friend Vernon Boyd’s girlfriend and an apprentice engineer—and bribed her to give him a breakdown of the launch process.

“Hypothetically, how could they make this happen?” Derek had desperately questioned, cutting through her technical muttering.

She shoved the extra ration coins he’d slipped her in the pocket of her moth-eaten lab coat. “Each station is equipped with cargo crafts, but the Council would never touch those. It’s too public, everyone would know they were launching defenseless kids into space. The only thing I can think of is the hunk of junk ferry rocket on S desk they use for spare parts.” She shook her head. “It’s prehistoric. I’m no rocket scientist, but that thing would be lucky to survive reentry into atmosphere.”

“There will be children on board, Erica. Most are eighteen, coming up for parole, but some are as young as twelve.”

She’d frowned, the coin’s jingling in her pocket. “I’m sorry, Derek. You don’t send people into space in a relic if you care whether or not they make it to their destination. Whether they’re twelve or twenty, the Council doesn’t give a shit.”

“So tell me what I can do.”

00:02:00

The Chancellor stands before the doors to the ship, monologuing like a villain, gaze focused on the harried teens in front of him. Some glare back, some blink away tears, some struggle against their restraints. “You’ve been given a second chance at life,” Chris Argent tell them. “You’re the pioneers; the course is yours.”

00:01:00

Derek’s eyes dart around, counting a total of sixteen adults, including the Chancellor, remaining on the deck. He’s lucky they valued secrecy over security today.

00:00:30

The time comes.

The descending numbers on the launch pad flash red, as Erica told him them would. He has twenty seconds before the hatch automatically shuts, and manual override becomes impossible.

Argent is still droning on, telling the teens they are making history, they will be the first humans to leave this space station in over three hundred years. They should be proud.

He steps up behind the Chancellor, pulse skyrocketing, and taps him on the shoulder. Chris Argent pivots, eyebrows lowered. “What is it, Officer Hale?”

Derek’s green eyes drop to the pin on the collar of the Chancellor’s shirt—the insignia of their Colony, that once stood for unity. So it’s in the spirit of togetherness, for better or for worse, that Derek lets his hand quickly drop to the holster attached to his belt, and before anyone can think to move, there’s the sharp sound of a gunshot.

Chris Argent grabs at his stomach, blood flowing like a river between fingers, splattering Derek’s boots like droplets of rain.

The sight of the Chancellor’s wound pulls the remaining people on the launch deck toward them like a black star, and Derek ducks under the arms of the guards who reach for him instead of helping their leader, rolling under the hatch as it seals shut, locking him inside the dropship. Furious banging erupts on the doors as he falls into the unoccupied seat next to Stiles, tucking the still-smoking gun between his knees as he buckles his harness.

“I could have survived anything, if I thought you were up here, safe and alive,” Stiles tells him. Derek can read the fear in his wet eyes. “Even if it was only for a little bit longer.”

A series of bleeps emit from the instruments in the cockpit. The purr of the engines becomes a roar, and Stiles’ fingers dig into the plastic armrest like claws.

“I couldn’t have lived with myself if I let you go alone,” Derek replies, wiping the star-bursts of blood off his face. “So here we are.”

Stiles nods. “Here we are. We won’t be on top of the world for much longer, but at least we’ll be together.”

With a jarring blast, the ship detaches from the space station, and they free-falling, barrelling toward Earth, a planet left for dead three hundred years ago, at a thousand kilometers an hour.

The first leg of their journey is relatively calm, the sun outside the windshield a red thumbprint against a blue-black sky dotted with stars. Some of the passengers pray, some excitedly discuss the probability of surviving on the surface of a world ravaged by nuclear and biological war. Stiles reaches over, squeezes Derek’s knee, and he jolts, losing the grip on his gun. It floats weightless through the cabin, prompting some of the former inmates to unfasten their harnesses and somersault through the air. But soon the stars fade, as does the light, replaced by smokey-gray clouds of atmosphere.

“Everyone, get back in your seats!” Allison Argent warns.

One boy mockingly laughs as he floats in front of her. “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do? Just because your daddy was the boss doesn’t mean you get to be in charge. You’re not—“

A loud bang on the port side cuts off whatever he was going to say, their calm voyage turning abruptly terrifying as turbulence jerks their vessel. The boy crashes into the front window as the ship lurches downward, his head leaving behind a smear of blood. He speaks no more. Muttered prayers become shrill screams, and the acrid scent of vomit fills the cabin.

The ship shakes, primal roar of the engine mutating into a piercing wail as they plummet. “Derek!” Stiles yells as grey smoke gives way to red flames and spiderweb cracks splinter the windshield. Erica’s voice fills his ears, warning him the shuttle’s sensor systems may be too antiquated to safety guide them through strong winds and dangerous atmospheric conditions. The prayers return at a fevered level, some people crying desperately for their mothers and fathers over the stuttering grind of failing mechanics.

“Give me your hand,” Derek yells back, locking their fingers together. The desire to say something profound flares in his gut, to use his last words to convey how much finding Stiles in that window seat on top of the world meant to Derek.

“Stiles,” He rasps, hardly recognizing his own voice. It’s the only thing he has time to say.

They are a meteor, burning fast and bright through the sky. Derek closes his eyes, and makes a wish.

The crash rattles every bone in his body, his front teeth slicing through his bottom lip like a razor through silk. His neck lolls with abandon, body jerking like a rag doll, but his harness—and Stiles’ solid grip on his hand—hold him secure as the shuttle skids to a halt, a gaping wound torn through the outer and inner hull on the starboard side. The smell of stale vomit is overpowered by melting metal, burning fuel and coppery blood.

“If the outside air is still poisonous, we’ll be dead in minutes,” Stiles gasps, and no one gets up, searching each other for signs of radiation sickness.

None come.

“It pains me to say this,” Scott McCall grimaces at Allison, “but maybe your father didn’t heartlessly send us to our deaths after all.”

“Maybe,” she concedes. “But he’s still a dick.”

One by one they slowly exit the ship. The buckle of Derek’s auto-release jams, so he pulls a utility knife from his holster with numb fingers and saws at the neon orange straps. He unhooks Stiles, and together they stumble, arms wrapped around each other’s waists, toward the laceration in the wall, holding each other steady as they adjust to the gravitational pull of Earth. They step outside.

Derek blinks, jaw dropping. It’s not the ravaged, nuclear wasteland they’ve read about in their Earth Studies textbooks; the unsurvivable world.

All around him chirping birds sing and clicking crickets jump. The sweet scent of soil fills his nose, sharper than anything he’s ever smelled aboard the space station.

Snow-capped mountains dot the distance landscape, a lush green canopy hangs above them, multi-colored blossoms bloom around their feet, and warm sunlight kisses Stiles’ moles.

“I’ve never seen so many colors,” Stiles exclaims, eyes roaming over the verdant hills, listening to the wind whisper through the tall grass.

“You were wrong,” Derek tells Stiles, cradling his smiling face between his palms. He laughs. “This is the best view.”

Their lips meet in a kiss that tastes like fresh air, like freedom, like hope.

They’ve hurtled through space, crash-landed in the dirt to face insurmountable odds.

They’re the lowest they’ve ever been.

They’re on top of the world.

Send me a pairing and a prompt and I’ll write you a mini fic

[edogawatranslations]

999: Alterna (2) - Part 5, Chapters 4-6

Table of Contents | Previous: Part 5, Chapters 1-3

Chapter 4

Clover’s sudden words took me aback.

“Esper... You talkin’ ‘bout someone with psychic powers or somethin’?” Seven snorted in laughter. “If that was true, I’d teleport with you outta this ship right now.”

“I’m not joking. I think you might have the power of precognition.”

“What gives you that idea?”

“Experiencing déjà vu is one form of precognition. You said you’ve seen this operating room before, right? That’s probably because you’ve perceived what happened today in a dream.”

“Yeah, right.”

“But you were also the first one to notice that my brother couldn’t see!”

I didn’t necessarily believe in precognition, but as Clover said, Seven was the first one to point out Snake’s blindness. Until Snake admitted it, I hadn’t noticed anything off about his eyes.

“That’s not precognition. It’s a detective’s intuition -” Seven froze. His eyes opened wide and stared off into space. “...Detective?”

Repeating the word that stumbled out of his mouth, Seven brought his hand to his forehead. His head must have started throbbing again.

“Was I a detective?” He struggled to recall something, but it didn’t seem to end well. “Damn. I can’t remember.”

He shook his head with great force. Large beads of sweat streamed down his forehead, reaching his cheek and the back of his neck.

“Please. Use your powers to figure out where my brother is!” Clover begged with puppy dog eyes.

“Sorry, but all I’ve got is a big body. I don’t got psychic powers or nuthin’. Besides, stuff like that doesn’t even exist, right?” Seven answered bluntly, while wiping away the continuous stream of sweat with the back of his hand.

“You don’t believe in precognition?” Clover asked, raising her voice. “Even though there are tons of clairvoyants in the world?”

“They’re all frauds.”

“Sure, some of them might be frauds, but there are plenty of people who aren’t!” Clover got worked up, her voice turning into a yell. “Don’t you know? Someone even accurately predicted the sinking of the Titanic!”

“What? The hell you sayin’?”

“It’s not a lie. It’s written right there in a book published a whole fourteen years before the incident.”

I had known about that. It was a novella titled Futility, written by an American author named Morgan Robertson. In it, a large passenger liner sank after colliding with an iceberg.

If that was where the similarities stopped, then it would easily be brushed off as mere coincidence. But somehow, the name of the ship, the ocean route, the time of disembarkation, the specifications of the ship - the length, displacement, top speed, the number of passengers and crew, even the number of lifeboats equipped to the ship - all of it was eerily similar to the characteristics of the Titanic. From the location of the accident, to the reason behind the incident, even the damaged parts of the ship - it was almost as if the scene was elaborately sketched out by someone who had witnessed the accident with his own eyes.

...Huh?

I felt dumbfounded.

It happened again. Why do I know these things?

“What’s wrong? Junpei? Your face don’t look so good. You tired?”

I snapped back to the present and saw Seven scrutinizing my face.

“No... It’s nothing.”

I shook my head vigorously. Knowledge of the Titanic seemed to flow effortlessly into my mind, like search results on a computer. If I told them the truth, I would quickly be labeled a person with ESP. It was probably better for me to keep quiet.

“Let’s find that pink key,” I said, changing the subject. I took the key to the medicine cabinet from Seven’s hand and opened the glass door.

“Seven, please tell me. Where is my brother?”

Still unwilling to let it go, Clover continued pestering Seven.

“We gotta open that door first. If you wanna see your brother, help us find that key.”

As I carefully took out bottles of medicine from the cabinet, Seven’s perplexed voice reached my ears. Since the labels were all written sideways, I couldn’t figure out what was written on them.

After moving all of the bottles from the bottom shelf of the cabinet onto the ground, I peeked inside and noticed a small key.

“Found it!” I yelled as I grabbed the key. Seven and Clover quickly rushed over.

“Well done, Junpei,” Seven said, patting my back with force so great that I started coughing.

“But that key... isn’t the right color,” Clover pointed out. She was correct. The door was painted pink, but the key I found was yellow.

I tried using the key on the door, but the shape didn’t quite fit, and it got caught halfway in the keyhole. Our excitement was short-lived.

Giving in to frustration, I attempted to hurl the key onto the ground. However, my grip was weak, and the key flew out of my hand towards the medicine bottles. It hit one of the vials I had placed on the ground dead on, causing the glass to shatter into tiny pieces.

“...Oh.” A sigh escaped my lips. Just how much luck did I have? A pink key appeared in the center of the spilled liquid. It must have been hidden inside the vial.

Right as I was about to step forward to pick up the key, white smoke began to spout vigorously from the wet floor. The liquid must have been one that vaporizes at room temperature.

The scent of sweet olives filled the air. I had smelled the same scent very recently.

The image of the figure in the gasmask popped into my head. The canister he held in his right hand... The white smoke that erupted out of it...

All of the blood in my body suddenly ran cold.

This was the scent of the anesthetic gas I inhaled at that time.

Both Seven and Clover seemed to have reached the same conclusion.

“This ain’t good! Hold your breath and run!”

Before Seven could finish his sentence, I had cupped my mouth and taken off.

Chapter 5

Returning the way we came into the room, we burst into the hallway.

I shut the door behind me and slumped my body against the wall, breathing heavily.

“That smell...” Clover murmured.

“Yeah, there’s no doubt about it. It’s the anesthetic gas Zero put us to sleep with.”

The white smoke seeped into the hallway through the gaps around the door. It would only be a matter of time before the whole area was filled.

“We got no choice. We gotta run back in there holdin’ our breaths, and get that pink door open. You two ready?” Seven said, taking off his beanie and bringing it down to his mouth.

“But what about the question?” Clover asked, her voice quivering.

I patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll get the answer by checking the label of the broken vial.”

“Alright, let’s divide up our roles,” Seven said. “You two run to that pink door. I’ll go pick up that key and toss it over. Then I’ll read out what’s written on the label, and you two punch that into the screen.”

Clover and I nodded simultaneously. If things went smoothly, we would be able to get into the next room within ten seconds or so. We could definitely hold our breaths for that long.

“Got it? Then let’s go.”

“Wait.” Clover stopped Seven, and pulled out something resembling a pendant from her pocket. She held it close to her chest and closed her eyes in prayer.

“Whatcha got there?”

“It’s a charm.”

Clover opened her hands, revealing a piece of silver in the shape of a four-leaf clover. Didn’t Santa have an accessory like that too?

“You see, each leaf on a four-leaf clover has a meaning to it: hope, faith, love, and luck. ‘You must not ever lose hope. What’s important is to have faith, and to have love. When all of those conditions are met, good luck is never far behind.’ My brother taught me that.”

“Can I see that for a second?” I asked.

After Clover handed me the piece of silver, I turned it over. The letter <R> was engraved on the back.

“Did you get this from Santa?”

“Huh? Why do you ask that?”

“Oh, it’s just that he had the same thing.”

“What? So Santa was also part of that experiment nine years ago-”

“We’re runnin’ outta time. We gotta go.” Seven’s deep voice cut Clover off.

...That experiment nine years ago?

What Clover said intrigued me, but our top priority was getting out of here. The white smoke was slowly but surely filling up the hallway.

“Three... Two...”

With his hand on the doorknob and a nervous expression on his face, Seven started counting down.

“One...”

I took a deep breath.

“Zero!”

On that signal, the door flung open.

Chapter 6

The room was so utterly white that I couldn’t see where I was going.

Pulling Clover by the arm, I pushed forward to the target door, bumping my shoulder against the wall multiple times along the way.

“Junpei! I’m tossin’ the key over!”

Amidst the white haze, I saw a large, dark silhouette. From that direction, a pink key flew at me in a parabolic arc. As soon as I caught it, I thrusted it into the keyhole.

The screen displayed the question. I pressed the <ANSWER> button, and our bracelets began to flash.

“Seven, the answer!” I yelled.

“Gimme a minute. The smoke’s blockin’ it so I can’t see... Here it is.”

“Hurry!”

I felt my breathing getting heavier by the second.

“I’m no good at English. S... Sop...”

“Soporil!” Clover shouted. “The drug that Ace injected into himself earlier! Soporil was written on the capsule!”

“That’s right. Soporil - that’s gotta be it!” Seven’s voice echoed out from within the mist.

The top of my head started throbbing due to a lack of oxygen. I was close to my limit.

Filled with hope, I typed in <Soporil> and pressed the Enter key.

The detonation timer stopped, and the door swung open.

“Seven, the door’s open! Hurry up!”

The three of us stumbled over one another as we flew through the door. After taking a deep breath to replenish my oxygen supply, I shut the door behind me. Fortunately, this door closed perfectly and had no gaps, preventing the white smoke from leaking out.

I looked around. A dim and dreary hallway stretched endlessly before my eyes.

“...I need a break,” Clover said, clutching her chest in pain while crouching on the cold floor.

“Then wait here. Junpei, you look after Clover. I’m gonna continue lookin’ around.” With those words, Seven dashed down the hallway.

Watching as his figure shrank, I let out a big sigh. Even though we were able to safely overcome the danger, my heart still felt clouded.

Just how many more times will we have to taste this anxiety?

I had a feeling that the goal was still far away from us.

However, the time limit was the only thing that was closing in.

Next: Part 5, Chapters 7-9

[atozgadgetsuk]

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[janessawatson729]

Fitbit Luxe Review: Refined Version of Fitbit Inspire 2

The Fitbit Luxe is just a more refined version of the Fitbit Inspire 2 with a few useful new features (plus more to come soon). Its small display has several drawbacks, yet it is bright, sharp, and appealing.

Since this is a fitness tracker rather than a full-fledged smartwatch like the Fitbit Versa 3 or Fitbit Sense, we did not really expect it to have functions like making calls from your wrist or allowing you to make contactless transactions using Fitbit Pay. The Luxe, on the other hand, is all about keeping track of your health and encouraging better habits (both physical and mental), which it accomplishes admirably.

Fitbit Luxe price and release date

The Fitbit Luxe was first unveiled in April 2021, and it will be available for purchase on July 1, 2021. The ordinary variant with a silicone band costs $149.95, while the special edition with the gold-colored Gorjana link bracelet costs $1999.95.

This places it between the Fitbit Inspire 2 (which launched at $99.95) and the Versa 3 smartwatch (which retails for $329). The Luxe also includes a free one-year Fitbit Premium trial, which you can start as soon as you sync the gadget with your phone.

Design

The Luxe is one of Fitbit’s smallest fitness trackers, featuring a thin design that pays homage to the original Fitbit Flex from 2013. It uses the same ‘Biologic Industrial Design Language’ as the Fitbit Inspire 2, Versa 3, and Sense, with ergonomic lines that follow the human body’s curves. In fact, it has a design that is extremely similar to the Inspire 2 — but there are a few key differences.

To begin with, the Luxe uses stainless steel in black, gold, and silver, whereas the Inspire 2 has a plastic shell. This is complemented by a stainless steel buckle, giving the Luxe a more refined appearance.

The Fitbit Luxe’s screen, on the other hand, is its most remarkable feature. The Luxe’s display is a full-color AMOLED with a 206 x 124-pixel resolution, which looks excellent. Most of Fitbit’s smaller fitness trackers (including the Inspire 2 and Charge 4) use a monochrome OLED display. It’s also responsive, which is crucial for a gadget that lacks physical buttons.

The accompanying app allows you to personalize the watch faces, which include a variety of appealing alternatives (including analog and digital designs) that make the most of the watch’s brilliant, vibrant display. All of these provide a quick peek at the time, but some also include other metrics, such as your current heart rate, step count, and calories burned, which you can check without swiping. Fitbit may well introduce additional faces in the coming months, as the range is already outstanding.

The small size of the face has certain drawbacks (you can only see a small amount of info at a time, and graphs aren’t possible), but it’s vibrant and sharp, with smooth transitions and scrolling.

Performance

If you’ve ever used a Fitbit, you’ll be familiar with the general experience; the Fitbit Luxe is easy to use, with an interface that makes tracking your activity and wellbeing as simple as possible. It’s worth taking a few minutes to modify a few parameters before you use it for your first workout.

On the Luxe, there are just six workout options (by default, walk, run, swim, cycle, general workout, and treadmill), and none of them can be changed from the device itself. Instead, via the Fitbit app, you may tailor the available options to your tastes. Swipe left to remove a workout you don’t utilize, then hit the + icon in the top right to add something you do.

Luxe can recognize specific exercise types and start tracking them automatically with SmartTrack, which is especially beneficial for picking up unplanned exercises that you might not think to measure manually.

The ‘noise’ from general movement, especially gripping motions, can always alter heart rate measurements obtained from the wrist, and optical heart rate monitors will never be as accurate or responsive as a chest strap that records electrical signals as your heart contracts.

Apart from those issues, the Luxe performed admirably, producing numbers that were substantially equal to those of a Garmin Vivoactive 4S. There were no unexpected peaks or troughs, and the two devices’ average and maximum heart rates were within 2bpm of each other.

Because of the color screen, the Luxe has a little worse battery life than its Inspire 2 relative. Fitbit claims that it will last five days in normal use before requiring a charge, which we found to be rather true. Thankfully, charging is simple; the Luxe comes with a USB charger that is magnetically attached to the back of the gadget and does not readily shift or disconnect.

After three nights of wearing the Luxe to bed to calibrate it, you’ll start receiving a sleep score each morning based on the time and quality of your sleep.

When the Fitbit Luxe receives its first major upgrade, battery life is expected to suffer even more. The Luxe features a sensor for blood oxygen saturation (SpO2), which the Inspire 2 does not, therefore we expect the Luxe to use more power overnight. This sensor isn’t enabled right now, however, it will be enabled in the future via a firmware upgrade. In the following months, it’s also possible that Luxe will get additional functions. Fitbit has a history of adding new faces and tools to its devices after they’ve been released — and that’s before we consider the app’s frequent updates.

I am extremely passionate about blogging, running websites, and creating content. I have managed to turn my passion into a profession, and blogging has managed to teach me a lot about technology and myself. I write blog posts, instruction manuals, news releases, and technical descriptions, and reviews for many websites such as central.bitdefender.com

Source: Fitbit Luxe Review: Refined Version of Fitbit Inspire 2

[goodfortune-au]

Good Fortune (Soulmate AU) Chapter 10: New Year

It’s 1989, and Angel is reeling. All she can hear is the sound of her thundering heart. It eclipses the chirruping song of sparrows on a crisp winter’s morning, the blood pulsating restlessly in her torrid veins as she sits motionlessly in bed. She stares down at the blanket splayed out over her lap and presses cold hands to her burning cheeks. She remembers, she processes, she relives the dream she just had and she cannot stop herself from squeaking kittenishly into her palms at the thought of it all. Her face is growing hotter with each vivid detail that she recalls and her stomach starts to flutter so deliciously with want and desire. She’d dreamt about him again… She truly couldn’t believe it. All she can think of is his hands, his eyes… His lips, pressed against hers… She buries her face in her blanket and starts to giggle.

New Years of 1989 had started out a very good day. Once Angel had woken up and slipped out of bed, the world truly seemed a better place, at least for the time being. She greets Mayor Jello with uncharacteristic cheer and good spirit, and sets to making breakfast on a lazy Sunday morning. It’s French toast with bacon, and she scarfs it down happily, still entertaining thoughts from her dream the night before as she hums along to a record playing on her turntable (It was a Sgt. Peppers kind of day). She cleans her plate right away and sets it to dry, and then she gets dressed. She slips on the silk sweater with a pair of baggy black cargo pants, then laces up her boots and slides a long, thick trenchcoat over her shoulders. When she dons her favorite pearl heart she smiles at herself in the mirror. She studies her reflection for a moment, letting her eyes flicker over all the details and imperfections of her face; the bumps and acne on her olive skin, the perpetual bags under her eyes, her cute little button nose, the fullness in her lips… And then her eyes trail downward, all the way to her stomach, and her smile sours. She squeezes the fat underneath and grimaces, staring in dismay at the way her figure protrudes outward, her belly surely more pronounced than it was before as a result of all her recent indulgence. And before she knows it she’s fixated on it, it’s been so long that she’s just been standing there staring at her own reflection, and she forces herself to leave when she can almost feel bitter tears building.

She steps outside and takes a deep breath. Think about different things, forget about all that. She needed to. She opens her eyes and steps down from her stoop. Fresh snow crunches underneath her heels and she shivers as the chill from outside seeps into her bones, rubbing her gloved hands together as she walks down her driveway onto the sidewalk. She takes her stride at a slow and even pace, savoring the journey from Witcham Street onto Up-Mile-Hill. She passes all the houses in her neighborhood in silent contemplation, noting how each one was distinct in their own way when she walks past. Derry certainly was a town that, by all accounts, didn’t appear much different from any other. It seemed so innocent and unassuming, and anyone just passing through wouldn’t be able to tell that there was a monster in the closet from first glance unless they did some digging around. They’d simply just assume that it was another sleepy little Maine town closed off from the outside world, a one-horse burg with a rustic charm and modest flair. Growing up in such a place was strange, and Angel certainly had to wonder why she chose to stay behind while the rest of her family moved on. She couldn’t really explain it, but when the time had come, she simply felt like she needed to stay. Felt like she belonged there somehow. Call it destiny, perhaps.

And it would seem that destiny was in fact calling to her in a sense, as she truly had no other inkling as to why she’d been chosen as the supposed fixation of a higher power. Ever since it had begun, Angel had resolved not to question the whole thing so much, as stranger things had certainly happened and, she had to grant, it was certainly better to be on the side of good fortune rather than bad in this town. Still, some part of her had to wonder just what the nature was of this thing, and why it had chosen her specifically to dote on. She had to wonder of its intentions, and what role it played in regards to whatever had been causing the disappearances, if it played any role at all. Could they be perhaps one and the same? No, that couldn’t be. She refuses to believe that something so kind and thoughtful to her could be responsible for something so heinous. She allows herself a little smile at the thought of them, perhaps looking on her from above as she continues along. She’d brought a gift along with her on the offchance that she might find something from them, an old friendship bracelet she’d made that said “Neo-Maxi-Zoom-Dweebie.” It was an old memento from years past, and given that she didn’t particularly have a use for it anymore she didn’t necessarily mind parting with it. She hoped that they liked the things she was leaving for them. It wasn’t as though she was an old hand with this, she was simply going with the flow as it were. Simply just trying to return the favor, and repay back all the kindness that they saw fit to bestow on her for whatever godforsaken reason. It was the least she could do.

Pennywise was simply delighted with all her gifts. He hadn’t expected her to respond so favorably to his offerings at all, let alone so much so that she felt the desire and compulsion to leave things for him in return. He smiles. She truly was meant for him; it was all playing out just as he’d hoped, and all because of their inevitable compatibility, the stars aligning simply to bring the two of them together. They belonged together. She belonged with him. Only a girl such as her, so peculiar and odd and fascinated with the offbeat and the bizarre could match him so well. Only a girl so sweet and loving and longing for friendship and affection could be such putty in his wicked hands, a perfect compliment to his sinister nature giving herself in to his manipulations so easily and willingly, though she didn’t yet know it. Only a girl who would not only accept his advances, but respond to them in kind, would become his so effortlessly. Oh, how he couldn’t wait. He counted the days in restless anticipation, longing for that fateful moment where he could take her in his arms and give her all the love he had been saving just for her. It wasn’t long now.

She was rather enjoying her walk so far, getting lost in the way all the white blends seamlessly together, in the way icicles reached down from the gutters of the houses and the roads were slick with grimy mush from the neverending commute of passing cars. The Christmas decorations were still displayed outside in people’s yards, as people hadn’t yet an opportunity to take anything down, and she admires all of it in its collective splendor, enjoying it in the moment as much as she possibly can. Golden lights on the outside of one particular house strike a familiar chord inside of her as she walks past and she finds herself thinking of Pennywise now, her mind wandering back to the dream she’d had the night before. Her cheeks are rosy, numb from the cold, but they start to warm when she thinks of the way he’d looked at her, the way those eyes had turned from a swimming ocean of blue into fulgid, blinding gold when she’d come closer to him. It reminds her of something else, memories of the stars in the sky when she’d almost gotten trampled at that concert, the deja vu of having experienced near the same thing some months later when she’d passed out on Halloween, of the shadowy figure that had loomed above her on both occasions. The phenomenon of it was a tad peculiar, and as she’s lost in thought she finds herself coming to a sudden realization, that being that there was a possibility it could have been her guardian angel protecting her on those strange and peculiar occasions. Yes, that… That could be it, it seemed one of the only plausible explanations, even if it sounded mad. Hell, this whole thing sounded mad. If anyone had told Angel even half a year before that she would become the object of some mysterious benefactor’s inexplicable attentions, that she would continually cheat death and fatal injury as a result, she would have laughed right in their face. But now, it all didn’t seem so crazy.

She kept seeing those lights, so close yet so far, like beacons calling to her from lightyears away, and she thinks… They weren’t much different from Pennywise’s eyes in her dreams. It was almost like she was starting to conflate the two, starting to merge the two things in her life that were bringing her the most consistent comfort from her woes. It wasn’t so odd, it seemed to make an inkling of sense. In a way, it could be argued that her guardian angel was trying to court her in some fashion, as they seemed to be paying close attention to gifts she liked more than others and offering her solace in times of hardship, and Angel very much liked the idea of that attention coming from the same thing she herself had begun developing feelings for. She knew it wasn’t really possible. Pennywise was just a character in a children’s show after all; there was almost zero chance he was little more than a man in a costume. Still, she couldn’t deny the allure of it all, the thought of him looking over her, out for her, leaving her little trinkets and trifles for her delight, simply trying to win her favor. It was an idea too delicious not to entertain.

She comes upon the awning outside Secondhand Rose and, on a whim, decides to step inside. Angel had always adored thrift stores and antique shops; of course, this one didn’t rotate stock very often, but when it did things were often interesting to look at at the very least. She hadn’t stopped in for a while- couldn’t hurt to check, right? Lord knows she had nothing better to do on New Years, everyone being busy with their families and whatnot. Though, if she were honest, she’s surprised to find it open in the first place. The door jingles when she steps through the threshold, and she’s greeted by the shopkeeper and the musty, old smell of the wares waiting inside. There’s immediately a lot to take in. Items of all different shapes and sizes are visible from the ceiling to the floor, and things are not arranged very neatly. There are several rows of items simply stacked on top of each other, and various signs and license plates decorate the walls of the space. She scans her eyes over the various shelves of knick knacks and curios, and finds herself getting lost in all the colors and patterns within. There are lamps and wicker chairs, there’s empty tea kettles and old dartboards. There’s chipped sculptures and ghoulish taxidermied animals, several rows of dusty old books; there’s clocks and regal mirrors of different shapes and sizes and old, dented lunchboxes. There’s what looks to be a persian rug on the floor, a Royal typewriter in relatively decent condition, several guitars hung all over the front wall and a great big painting of a turtle propped up against the counter, striking somehow amid everything else. Angel finds her eyes lingering upon it in wonder as she steps past it to peruse the shelves.

“You lookin’ fer anything in particular?” The shopkeeper asks from behind her. She glances over her shoulder.

“N-no, I’m just… Just looking.” She says with a nervous laugh.

“Okay then, take yer time. Ring the bell if you need anything.” He says, heading into the back.

She nods. There’s an even more prominent stillness in the room now and she can hear the clocks all ticking in tandem as she moves through the store. Everything was so old, and clearly had a past behind it; she finds it so fascinating, looking upon each little thing and wondering what it’s story might have been, how it might have ended up here in the first place. She finds herself so comforted by the smell and atmosphere of it all that she thinks she could just stay in here forever, surrounded by a quirkier side of Derry’s eclectic history. She smiles as she examines a basket of donated childrens’ toys sitting in a Radio Flyer wagon. Among them is a couple vintage Barbie dolls, original 1959 and 1962 models, a timeworn teddy bear with one missing eye, a Mr. Potatohead, a pile of building blocks and… A little clown doll. When her eyes fall on it she stops dead in her tracks, and she feels that familiar tingling warmth when she stoops down to pick it up from the basket. She turns it over in her hands and finds something of a grin creeping across her face. It’s a charming little knit doll, red and white in color, with red yarn hair, googly eyes, and a felt nose and lips. It wears a baggy striped suit with red poms down the front of its midsection, and there’s a cute little ribbon tied about its neck. She can tell that it’s homemade just from the look and feel. The more she looks at it the more she falls in love, and she notices the tag sticking out of its foot. Only five dollars! Well, she could certainly manage that. She takes it over to the front counter and rings the bell, but not before leaving the friendship bracelet behind in its place.

The shopkeeper comes shuffling out of the back again and takes a seat where he was before. She gently pushes the doll across the counter along with a five dollar bill.

“Just this, please.”

“Ahh…” The shopkeeper says, opening the till and depositing the money inside. “This strike your fancy? Was donated just last month, toys from one of the local girls that went missing, uhh…Jenny Baxter, I think her name was. Was all over the papers.”

“Is that so?” Angel says awkwardly, trying her best to keep the conversation. It was… Unsettling to say the least, knowing that’s where the toy came from, but she tried not to think about it too hard. There were probably a number of things in here that had ties to the disappearances.

“Yeah, folks seemed glad to be rid of the stuff.” The shopkeeper says, printing up a receipt. He’s just about to hand it to her, but when he looks up he jerks it away before she can grab it.

“Your necklace.”

“My- huh?”

His eyes are beady, squinting at it. “That thing around your neck. Where’d you get that?”

“O-Oh. Well, I-”

“I had a nice vintage blouse worth a great deal sitting on a hanger in this shop not a few months before, had buttons on it just like that. Where’d you get it?”

“I found it.”

He leans back in his chair with a condescending chuckle. “Oh, you found it, huh?”

“Yes, I did!” she insists. “I found it by a sewer grate on Jackson Street and Witcham. Scout’s honor!”

“Oh, so the buttons just happened to go missing on my shirt, making it virtually worthless, and then you just happened to find the buttons outside some sewer grate?”

“That’s what I’m telling you, I swear.” She asserts. “What reason would I have to steal buttons off a shirt of all things?”

“I’m not entirely sure, you’d have to tell me.” He says curtly. “Either way, no sale.”

“I- w-what?”

“Get out of my store.”

“Hey, man, I already paid-”

“And I had to scrap a shirt that was worth almost $100.” He snapped. “Get out of my store before I call the cops. And leave the goddamn doll behind.”

Angel ruminates on it in anger as she sits in a greasy diner not far down the street, trying her best not to cry in public as she sips on her coffee. She’d wanted that doll. She almost felt like she needed it, like something in her blood and in her mind was telling her that it belonged to her. She was almost certain that it was meant for her to find, like it was a long-lost piece of her she hadn’t even known was missing until she saw it. She’d felt that feeling, that energy… It was as though her guardian angel was speaking through her, telling her to take it, and she’d failed. In that moment she feels like she’s somehow spurned the gift of her protector even if it wasn't her fault, and she feels terrible knowing that someone else will likely come along and take it instead. It now leads her to wonder about her little collection of gifts, and just how many of them might have been pilfered from dubious sources like that, like her pearl heart pendant. Was she just walking around in a bunch of stolen jewelry? Her heart sinks at the realization. She’d truly thought that what she was taking was lost, unwanted things that no one would miss, that she was hurting no one by taking these things. The waitress comes by with her food and she hardly touches it.

She ends up toting her food home in a takeaway box, having found herself too upset to eat after stewing in her thoughts now. It's all she can think about that night in bed too, driving herself crazy trying to rationalize and justify everything she'd been finding now that her collection's origins have been called into question. Finally, she arrives at a conclusion she can cope with, that someone else must have ripped the buttons from the shirt and her guardian angel simply found them to offer as a gift. They almost seemed like a bird in that sense, attracted to shiny, pretty things, scooping them up for a collection and graciously offering them to her, a kindred spirit. She sighs, staring at her alarm clock in silent thought. Yes… That seemed to ease her conscience quite a bit. There was no way her guardian angel could be so careless, right? They were a good thing, a moral thing, and they surely wouldn't steal things from people just for her, would they?

Even if they had, just how bad was that, really? Most of what she was finding were inconsequential things, things no one in their right mind would possibly miss, like marbles and paperclips and bits of crumpled up tinfoil. It was… Unfortunate that some people were losing things they might possibly miss, but people lose things all the time. She's lost her fair share of things over the years, things she's sure people have found and made off with. And she can deal with that, she certainly wouldn't begrudge someone for keeping something they rightly found. Where would someone even go to return it if they'd felt so inclined anyway? She finds herself feeling slightly better with this rationalization, and settles back into her pillows with much greater ease. So what if her guardian angel was taking a couple things for her here and there? What was a little selfishness on her part in such a heinous little town, accepting pilfered trifles? She could certainly be guilty of much worse crimes. The more she thinks about it now, the less guilty she feels, and with her mind assuaged she's finally able to fall asleep.

~~~~

Back to work today. Angel groans as she rolls out of bed and quickly sets to getting dressed for the morning. Following a few minutes of indecisively rifling through her drawers, she finally decides on a baggy gray sweater with black jeans and Mary Jane heels. After a moment of deliberation (and silent defiance to the shopkeeper of Secondhand Rose), she reaches into her chocolate box and puts on her pearl heart with the matching pair of earrings. She regards her reflection for a moment in the mirror, studying herself from the front and the side, analyzing her figure as she had obsessively grown to do in her adolescence and then she glances at her bedside clock. Only had so much time to get ready. With that she strides out into the living room to feed Mayor Jello and make her departure.

"How are you doing this morning, Mr. Mayor? Sleep well?" She says tiredly, pulling out his bag of food. She dumps a hefty pile in his bowl and puts it back in the cupboard. He doesn't answer her.

She sets a few heaping scoops of grounds into a filter and sets the coffee maker to work. As she enjoys the rich and sumptuous scent of the beans wafting through the cold air of the house she walks around the kitchen over to the living room, where she sits down with a groan and picks up the TV remote. Turning it on, she flips from the static of Channel 27 (no Derry Children’s Hour this morning, she notes disappointingly) through the catalog of available channels. Nothing much on this morning either save for the news, it seems. She leaves it on the Derry Local News and goes to check on her coffee. The machine has started to deposit the brew into the pot slowly but steadily, and when it’s done she pours herself a cup in her favorite mug before stirring in milk and a copious amount of sugar cubes. She takes a nice, long sip and sighs as the warmth slowly travels from her throat into the rest of her body. The TV speaks loudly into the emptiness, making the room echo with its matter-of-fact delivery.

“Grim news for Derry today as it seems another citizen has turned up missing, this time a Caucasian man of 62 by the name of Charles O’Brien.”

She stops in the midst of dropping another sugar cube into her cup. She tries to take a sip but has to stop herself gagging on her coffee, staring wordlessly at the television screen as it displays a picture of the lost man.

“Charles O’Brien was the primary owner and proprietor of a local antique shop, Secondhand Rose, Secondhand Clothes. It’s reported that he went missing at approximately 1 PM yesterday during the celebration of New Years, and his whereabouts are as of now unknown. Just terrible- John?”

“Yes, it certainly is Nancy. Anyone who may have a clue as to where he might be is encouraged to contact the local Derry police as soon as possible, until then we have all authorities on hand investigating the matter thoroughly. And that’s--”

She turns off the TV before it can cut to commercial, and stands dumbfounded at the kitchen counter in disbelief. She has to force herself to sit down, and when she does she starts to shake, contemplating all of which she’s just heard. The coincidence of his disappearance coupled with her encounter with him yesterday is simply… Too much to process, and she finds herself staring down at her heart pendant. She doesn’t know how she feels; she feels numb, almost paralyzed. She doesn’t know what to do or think, she simply sits in silence. Mayor Jello is gone from the room after having eaten. She spares a glance out of the corner of her eyes at the clock overhead, and realizes it's almost time to leave for work. Can’t afford to dwell on this much longer. She gets up and straightens her back, grabs her purse and her lunchbox, and steps out the door. She tries to forget it.

Turns out forgetting it was not as easy as she’d hoped. Angel had had a bit of an off day at work, stumbling around clumsily in her heels, staring vacantly at the shelves as she took the front desk, putting books back in the wrong places. She’d taken her lunch later than normal for lack of appetite but that proved to be a fool’s errand, as when she did she still sat on the monument outside and did little else but keep her gaze rooted to the pine tree across the way. She’d brought her sketchbook with her but couldn’t for the life of her manage to draw anything. Well, it wasn't as though she'd been able to draw much in the last several months anyway. The librarian hadn’t truly stopped being cross with her ever since that book went missing, and today she hadn't been more merciful for the sake of Angel's weak constitution. She still expected she fulfill all her daily responsibilities and Angel could do little else but just that, as she couldn’t afford to invoke any more of the librarian’s laser-guided ire than she already had. She’d been on thin ice the last couple months ever since she couldn’t track down that book and decided she couldn’t afford to call out on this particular occasion, traumatized though she felt. No, couldn’t risk losing her job. It’s not like there was a lot else in Derry that she could do to earn a living. She wasn’t exactly qualified for much, and the things she was qualified for were well above her threshold of discomfort.

Angel spends her second fifteen entirely in the bathroom in the hopes of finding seclusion from everyone and everything else. She needed time alone, because as of now she clearly wasn’t coping very well with the day’s early discovery, and now more than anything she simply didn’t want to be seen. She can’t stop thinking about the shopkeeper from Secondhand Rose. She has to wonder if the circumstances of his disappearance were coincidental, some freak occurrence, some strange mishap or, rather, something else entirely. She wished she knew more about the context of his disappearance, but if his disappearance was anything like Patrick’s she was betting dollars to donuts that the man was almost certainly attacked by the same thing he was. The same esoteric monster that seemed to plague Derry like an eternal pestilence, and now she thinks… What if the monster was after her? What if that was the reason people around her kept dropping like flies? She thinks of her guardian angel, and the way their presence seemed to challenge or defy that of the monster. Was she being fought over? Was there some strange cosmic game of tug of war happening, with her somehow the prize? Oh god… What if… What if the monster eventually got to the kids…? Her head sinks into her hands and she starts to sob at the thought.

She hadn’t slept very well that night. Well, not at all if she was really honest. She just lay there in bed, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling, counting the minutes as they tick by and trying to distract herself from nasty wayward thoughts. The next day, however, was a little easier. And the day after that, and the day after that. By the time a couple weeks had passed, Angel had forced herself to forget about it as much as she was able, becoming consumed in the rhythm of her daily routine once more and the momentary security of little disappearances to fret over. The distraction of the gift-giving game between her and her guardian angel kept most of her attention, and the rest was allocated to her growing fixation on Pennywise, who now more than ever was becoming quite important to her. With everything that had been going on lately and her increasingly more prominent issues with self worth, Angel found herself steering more and more into her crush and the delusions of being in something of a relationship with him. She hadn’t been having those dreams anymore, so Angel had started to cope by imagining him in bed with her every night instead. Every time she nestled under the covers she would turn onto her side and hug tight a pile of pillows very strategically placed so as to mimic his form, starting to drift idly in thoughts of them together, thoughts of them holding each other under the covers, so close their noses are almost touching. Thoughts of him whispering sweet things to her with that deliciously gentle voice, lulling her into such a sense of genuine security that all she can do is melt under his words. Thoughts of him shushing her when he makes her snort laugh in the cold, quiet night, finally leaning in close to kiss her when she can’t stop giggling and quieting her with a soft, sensuous kiss. Thoughts of that kiss turning into one more, and one more, until he rolls her onto her back and stoops to lick and nip at her neck, the way he would gently reach down between her thighs to peel her panties from her legs and cast them to the side. Thoughts of them, being intimate with one another… She would think of it all until she fell asleep and left each day behind her. And then she would continue on into the next, only to repeat the whole cycle all over again.

It had continued that way for quite some time into the New Year. Angel was pleased to find that the Derry Children’s Hour was starting to feature Pennywise more and more, and as a result she was growing far more distracted as time wore on, just trying to keep herself from thinking too hard about everything that was wrong. She began to neglect herself more and more, was letting her house and her room more specifically grow cluttered and unkempt as her haze-like funk continued. She would stare starry-eyed at the screen, hardly breathing as she watched his every movement; she would swoon and sigh and giggle like a schoolgirl at his on-screen antics, and then when it was over she would waste away the hours either lounging about the house and fantasizing about him or cuddling with her pillow pile until she dozed off. Errands were getting forgotten and she would settle for whatever was collecting dust in her pantry when she needed to eat, usually blue-box mac and cheese or Hamburger Helper or something equally low-effort. She only ever left the house to go scavenger hunting for gifts; on a more productive day she would go grocery shopping, but only ever came home with more junk food or superfluous impulse buys. And though she had gotten used to not having the dreams anymore she still held out for them regardless, had never stopped trying to have them in a sense. As she laid with her pillows and thought of him she hoped she would see him there as she had before, but when it didn’t happen she tried not to let herself be disappointed.

Angel was not without moments of clarity, however. Though her depressive state rendered her unable to take care of herself much of the time, there were in fact days where she knew she needed to work on getting things back to the way they were before, lest the Losers come back into her life and see just how much she’d let herself go in their absence. It was on a day like this that she attempted to undertake the somewhat daunting task of cleaning her house, or at the very least, decluttering her room. Angel was the type to get stressed out by a copious amount of mess, and although she was too far gone to care on most days, it still ate away at her regardless of her notice. It had reached a breaking point when she couldn’t even see the floor in her room, covered in clothes and other errant objects, and she’d almost eaten shit when her foot got caught on a shirt. So she rolled up her sleeves one Saturday afternoon, put on an Oingo Boingo album (Good For Your Soul, her favorite) and got to work.

Have you ever felt that somehow

You were not yourself?

That your body was the same

But everything around you wasn’t right

And images so strange and foreign

Flooded in like raging water~

So far so good. She’d started with the garbage first, and so far had filled up two full bags, another byproduct of her recent distraction. Then, once she was done with that she got to work on the floors, first collecting all the clothes and laying them in a pile on her bed. Then she started to pick up everything else that was a potential hazard, setting them down in better places or binning them for storage in the closet. She figured she could kill two birds with one stone and do a big load of laundry today once she was done. It was certainly well overdue, and she could stand to catch up a little. The floor isn’t perfectly spotless but it’s certainly adequate, and she starts to clear off her bedside table and her dresser now. She tosses old candles and water bottles, rearranges the books on her shelf, throws out old papers and mementos that are taking up space inside her drawers. She needed to reorganize her clown collection too, and she knew they surely needed dusting. She pulls open her closet door.

Have you ever been in love

With someone you hardly knew?

Whereas every time you closed your eyes

You saw this person come alive

It kept you wide awake at night

You felt like you were burning up

It made you want to scream

Then you passed out in a dream

Just once or twice

Is good for your soul...

Her eyes fall on her shelf and all the little figurines waiting inside for her scrutiny. They gaze back, staring at her silently and she reciprocates their wordless gesture. There’s little more than two dozen of them, statues in colorful attire with painted faces, and there’s a row of bean-stuffed dolls among them, all with similar porcelain faces. Angel had collected all of these from thrift stores over the years, figuring they were from elderly peoples’ collections, unwanted now for whatever reason or donated as a result of their passing. Either way, she was delighted to give them a new home whenever she found them, and the best part of it was how inexpensive they tended to be. She takes the tallest figures and lines them up in the back, and then arranges two more rows of the medium-sized ones followed by the small. Finally, she places the porcelain dolls in front, two on either side of the rows. She steps back to admire her handiwork, finding the activity to have been almost therapeutic in a sense. All of a sudden, she gets that warm rush working its way through her flesh and she smiles. She knows the signs, she wonders what they might have left for her this time. It had been a couple days since the last one. Hopeful with anticipation she turns around to face her bed again, but she jumps ten feet in the air with a yelp.

Ever laid half asleep

All hours of the night

With some nagging demon

Tugging at that tiny bell inside your mind?

And suddenly that strange idea

Bursts into an inspiration

You grab for it and then

The whole things slips right through your fingers

Just once or twice

Is good for your soul…

That clown doll, the one from Secondhand Rose, is there to greet her, propped up against her pile of clothes. It smiles at her, almost knowingly, and the sight of it has her heart thundering in her chest so hard she feels as though it might burst out. She backs away, and bumps into the closet door behind her.

“What the f*ck? What the f*ck?”

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[edogawatranslations]

999: Alterna (1) - Part 2, Chapters 3-4

Table of Contents | Previous: Part 2, Chapters 1-2

Chapter 3

I stood next to the [C-Deck] plaque, facing the black door.

Immediately, I tried forcing the door open, but with my limited strength, it wouldn’t budge.

Mountain, or should I say, Seven, launched his body against the door, but the result was the same.

“This won’t work. Let’s search for another path,” Lion - Ace said.

Following his lead, we ventured down a path that led away from the central staircase. We reached the end of the hallway, but couldn’t find any potential escape routes.

We turned back and walked through the passageway, past the staircase. Two elevators greeted us to our right. For some reason, only the doors to the elevator on the left were painted yellow.

I pressed the call button with renewed hope, but nothing happened. The button didn’t even light up. The power system probably had shut down, after sensing an irregular emergency situation on board.

“There seems to be a keyhole here,” Prince - Snake said, feeling around the button. Under his fingertips, a cylinder lock was embedded into the button panel. “Perhaps this will restart the power to the elevator.”

“We don’t have that key though,” Seven puffed, stepping away from the elevator. “We gotta keep moving.”

Following after him, we continued down the long hallway, but couldn’t find any other path.

“We’ve reached yet another dead end,” Ace sighed.

“Was there anything on A-Deck?” I asked.

“The situation there is not much different,” Snake responded, while the other two men nodded in resignation. “Just one firmly shut door. However, A-Deck did lack an elevator.”

“I’ll go up and double check just to be sure,” I said, dashing away from the three of them.

It wasn’t that I doubted them, but I felt that I somehow wouldn’t be satisfied unless I confirmed it with my own eyes.

Sprinting up the stairs, I quickly reached A-Deck. Compared to the other floors, A-Deck was fairly limited in size. A single hallway extended to the left and right, but only for a couple of feet. One end was blocked by concrete, while the other led to a purple door. I tugged on the door’s handle, but it wouldn’t open.

For no reason, I looked up. Four fan-shaped iron plates covered the ceiling like a lid, sealing the room shut. Unless we could get access to explosives, it would be impossible to blow a hole and escape upwards.

A window rested in the wall on the staircase, but like the ceiling, it was covered by a thick iron plate. There was no chance of removing it with my bare hands.

Which means… I thought as I strolled down the staircase. We have no choice but to go through the numbered doors if we want to get off this ship.

When I reached B-Deck, the first thing that caught my eye was Akane’s frightened face.

If the only way to survive is to play this game, then I have no other choice.

In that moment, I made up my mind.

I have to win to save her.

Chapter 4

All nine of us gathered back on B-Deck.

“Let’s follow Zero’s commands and go through the numbered doors,” Snake suggested. Seven and I wholeheartedly nodded in response.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Dancer said. She stood in front of the doors, at the center of everyone’s attention. “I object. You’re a complete and utter fool to want to open this door.”

“Move outta the way, Lotus.” Seven took one step towards her.

While I was investigating A-Deck, the others had all figured out nicknames for themselves. Dancer’s bracelet number was [8]. Hence the name Lotus, a flower that has eight petals.[4]

“I refuse. If we participate in this game, we’d just be playing into the mastermind’s - Zero’s hands.”

“But if we don’t, we’ve got nowhere else to go.”

“I’m sure there’s another way.” Lotus turned to Pink Hair. “Clover, what do you think?”

The girl’s bracelet number was [4]. Clover was a fittingly cute nickname for her.

“I…”

A frightened expression appeared on her face as she gripped Snake’s hand.

“The two of us are of the same opinion,” Snake answered in her stead. Although he couldn’t see, he stood facing Lotus directly. Out of all of us here, he seemed to be the calmest and wisest. Following his suggestions likely would not lead us astray.

“Santa?” Lotus asked.

“…Me?”

Sitting in one corner of the hall, Silver had been quietly listening to our conversation.

His bracelet number was [3]. His nickname of Santa was probably derived from Santa Claus and “san,” the Japanese word for “three.” I didn’t think the name suited him at all.[5]

“Do what you want. Doesn’t matter to me,” Santa spat. His condescending attitude seemed to irk some of the others.

“Hmph. A sassy brat, huh.” Seven looked irritated. “If you don’t get off your high horse soon, you’ll regret it.”

Santa didn’t so much as react to the threat. At first glance, he seemed like a cold-hearted person, but if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be alive right now. Because of that, I didn’t share Seven’s contempt for him.

“Snake, Clover, Junpei, and me,” Seven counted out on his fingers. “That’s four of us who wanna go through the doors. One more would do it.”

“Wait just a minute, Seven. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Lotus raised her voice. “Ace, what do you think?”

Lotus walked over and shook Ace, who was lying against the wall with his eyes closed.

“I…” Stroking his grayish beard, Ace contemplated the options at hand. “I’m against it. I believe we should stay here.”

Lotus’s face lit up. “Finally, some sense around here! These youngsters are just trying to show off. None of them realize how stupid they’re being.”

Ace nodded. “We should wait until help arrives.”

“Old man, you can’t be like that!” Seven raged. “You think we’ve got time for that? In eight and a half hours, we’re gonna sink to the bottom of the ocean!”

“Stop it!”

A yell silenced the room. It was Akane.

Everyone turned towards her. She looked terrified. She held her head in her hands, and her whole body trembled.

“Please… stop it.”

“What’s wrong Kan- June?” I quickly stopped myself from saying her real name. Someone came up with June as her nickname. Her bracelet number was [6], and June, being the sixth month, sounded like a perfectly beautiful nickname for her.[6]

“I’m sorry… I just… remembered something terrible…”

Akane pressed against her chest, straining to catch her breath. Her fever had disappeared, but that didn’t mean her body was fully recovered. Was it really okay for her to move around with us like this? My resolve crumbled. As Ace suggested, maybe it was better to wait for help.

“June, what do you want to do?” I approached her and gently rubbed her back.

“I… I…” Her round eyes glimmered radiantly. “I’ll stay with Jumpy until the end. No matter what happens.”

“That settles it. Five for, two against, one indifferent. Is that everyone?” Seven glanced around the room.

“There’s one more person.” Surprisingly, it was Snake who answered.

I diverted my gaze back to the doors. Bird Nest stood there quietly. He hadn’t said anything for a while. He didn’t give off the impression that he wanted to say anything either.

His face was pale, and he had a hard time controlling his breath. Beads of oily sweat dripped down his forehead, and his legs trembled fiercely. I noticed it earlier when I first met him, but it seemed like it was impossible for him to fix his eyes on something. His eyes continuously and restlessly darted back and forth. He was clearly emotionally unstable. He had somehow managed to maintain his sanity, but it appeared to be on the verge of falling apart.

Lotus slowly walked towards him. She stopped next to him and tapped him on the back.

“How about you?” She asked.

However, the man didn’t respond. His pupils shuffled left and right, and his breathing gave way to panting.

“Hey, can you hear me?” Lotus prodded.

“…I hear you.” Words finally escaped his dry lips.

“That’s right, we haven’t thought of a nickname for you yet,” Lotus said. “What’s your bracelet number?”

“I-Isn’t it obvious? There are n-nine of us here. And the n-numbers from [1] to [8] have already been taken…”

The man stretched out his left arm. The bracelet around his wrist displayed a [9].

“So how about something like K-9?” Lotus suggested. “With your restless eyes, it seems fitting.”[7]

“…There’s no need for me to have a nickname.”

“Well now. Why is that?”

“B-Because, I’m not planning on staying with you all any longer.” Bird Nest spoke as he adjusted his glasses, which threatened to slip off his face.

Lotus scowled at him before responding. “Do you have something in mind?”

“I-I do.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Y-You want me to tell you?”

“Yes.”

“…Okay. I-I’ll show you then. Here’s what I’ve got planned!”

A light glimmered in the man’s eyes for a split second. A ghastly expression spread across his face as he rushed at Lotus.

“Kyaaa!”

Lotus’s scream echoed across the room.

There was no time to stop him.

Taking hold of Lotus’s body, the man coiled behind her like a snake.

“Lotus!” Akane shouted out from next to me.

“You son of a bitch! What do you think you’re doin’?!” Seven yelled, preparing to charge at Bird Nest.

“D-Don’t move!” In an unexpectedly swift motion, Bird Nest pulled out a knife and pressed it against Lotus’s neck. “D-Don’t get any closer! O-Or else I’ll slice open this woman’s throat!”

The expression in his eyes wasn’t normal. It wasn’t just an empty threat - he actually had the audacity to do it.

Seven stopped in his tracks and huffed in annoyance.

“Th-That’s right.”

His face twisted into a wry smile. With his right shoulder, he wiped away a bead of sweat that trickled down his face.

[4] “Move outta the way, Yashiro.” Seven took one step towards her. […] Dancer’s bracelet number was [8]. Hence the name Yashiro. (TN: In Japanese, Lotus’s nickname Yashiro is written as 八代, which contains 八, the Japanese character for “eight.”)

[5] His bracelet number was [3]. I didn’t know if his nickname of Santa came from the Japanese name Santa, or Santa Claus. Either way, I didn’t think the name suited him at all. (TN: Santa’s name in Japanese is rendered as サンタ. Junpei questions if the name is derived from 三太 [a Japanese given name read ‘Santa’] or サンタクロース [Santa Claus].)

[6] I didn’t know who came up with it, but her nickname was Murasaki. Her bracelet number was [6] and she was wearing purple clothes, so the reason was simple. (TN: Murasaki is Japanese for “purple.” Six in Japanese can also be read as “mu,” hence the name Mu-rasaki.)

[7] “So how about something like Q-taro?” Lotus suggested. “With your restless eyes, it seems fitting.” (TN: Q-taro is written in the text as Q太郎. Q in Japanese is read “kyuu,” the same as the word for nine. 太郎 (tarou) is a relatively common Japanese male name part.)

Next: Part 2, Chapters 5-6

[floweryfandomnerd]

Invisible Wings - 5

Near where I live there's a wide river with an old stone bridge rising high over it. Running my hands along its sides results in moss and dirt covering my hands. At the top of the arch, above the keystone, I stop to stare down at the thrashing waters. They're a murky green colour with a swirling current that quickly moves bobbing driftwood down it. Fish, minnows I believe, swim just beneath its surface, heads occasionally breaking through before they duck underneath again. I climb atop the side of the shallow walls, holding tightly with both hands as I sit on it. I've often wondered what it would be like to sit in a little boat and float down it; where the current would take me if I let it. What kind of power is the water? Kicking my legs in the air, I imagine myself simply letting go and falling - then I push it away; that's not how I wanted to disappear. If I were to disappear it would be on the wings of a dove, I could fly far away from here to anywhere I wanted. Letting go would make my disappearance a matter of moments; my freedom, if I ever gain it, would be born of wings not water.

Pulling myself away from that whirlpool of thought, I climb back down onto the bridge. Feet once again steady, I resume my wandering. At the other side some ways down the road is the outdoor market, it stays open no matter the weather but today at least the shopkeepers won't be so grumpy. They enjoy the soft sunshine as much as I do - sun-showers are my favourite though; I love the rainbows that form overhead when rays of light shine through little raindrops.

I love the market's pretty little stalls too, even if some only sell strange second-hand items that they claim are antique - although normally they're not exactly in mint condition. Where they get said "antiques" is somewhat of a mystery to me. It's bustling there today, full of background noise and half-familiar faces doing their shopping. The first stall I pass sells flowers, I never buy any - I don't even have a vase to put them in - but I can never seem to help myself from stopping to stare at them.

The florist who sells them is an adept hand at arranging pretty bouquets. The old man must have been making them for a very long time. I wonder if he ever makes them based on the meanings of the flowers or whether he just makes them to look wonderful. I wouldn't know, I don't know their meaning myself. I tug my bag back up onto my shoulder, smiling up at him as I leave. He smiles back at me.

Among the hubbub of the market I'm a little lost, unsure of what I came for now that I'm here. There's a list in my pocket, groceries written on scrumpled up paper. I do my best to smooth out all the crinkles, the inky pen I wrote it in is smudged but still legible:

Five apples,

Five oranges,

Five bananas,

An ounce of grapes,

An ounce of strawberries,

Ten carrots,

Onions,

Three peppers.

It's a longer list than that but that's as far as I skim at first, it takes me a moment to find where I should buy them from.  When I locate it, one of my classmates is at the register, a customer passes a bunch of coins into his hand, he counts it carefully then places it in the machine. They also give him a flower, a red orchid bought from the other stall. He beams up at the customer as they walk away with their brown paper bag of fruit and veg. I'd forgotten that his dad ran the grocery stall. When they're gone, he stares at the flower - puzzled until I distract him. 

Waving at him, I walk up to him, "Hi Michael."

"Hey Kallima, what do you need?" His curly brown hair hides his eyes as he smiles, I half want to push it out of his face but he beats me to it.

I quietly hand him the list, he reads it and starts grabbing what's stated, shoving it carefully into a paper bag for me. When he's done he gives me back the list so that I can continue with my shopping after I pay. I carefully fit them into my shoulder bag.

"Thanks. See you then," I'm about to go buy sugar and flour, along with anything else still on the list when I hear him.

"Wait!"

I stop in my tracks, twisting around to look at him. He looks ready to say something before glancing away from me for a second. Whatever it is, he doesn't say it.

After a pause he finally makes up his mind, "Did we have homework for chemistry?"

I shake my head, "No," then turn back to shopping. I'd rather be home before the threatening grey clouds looming overhead become a steady downpour. It doesn't take particularly long for me to finish gathering what's on my list. Almost done, all I have left is my winter tradition of buying a handmade hat. Charlotte's grandmother makes them; her grandmother is a lovely old woman - she used to babysit me when I was particularly small. That was how I became friends with Charlotte, really.

She's working there today, boredom sitting quietly on her face. There's a million places she'd rather be, I'm sure. Instead of being there she's just daydreaming about them, letting her silky auburn hair blow into her eyes. Charlotte doesn't even notice me browsing the hats. I rifle through the piles, slightly unsatisfied. They're nice hats but so far none of them are that special one I find every year.

Re-folding the pile I messed up, I move onto the next one. A few hats down sits a light purple hat with a little white bird skillfully embroidered on the brim. It stands out to me so much that I choose it without a second glance at the rest. Charlotte jumps when I stand in front of her, dangling the hat in her face.

"Hey! You scared me!" She reaches over the counter to jab my sides, I dodge away but she still manages to poke her finger into my ribs. I squirm uncomfortably and she laughs. She knows poking makes my body do something weird - it's exactly why she does it.

I bat her fingers away, giggling as I do, "Stop that!"

She keeps trying though. I do my best to put on a stern face, "Come on Charl, that tickles!"

Sighing, she slides back over and stands behind the register again, nodding at the hat, "That's the one you're choosing?" She eyes it for a moment, thinking pout on her face. "It's pretty. The colours are very you - purple with white embroidery."

"It almost feels like Grandma had me in mind when she made this one..."

Charlotte chuckles, whipping the hat out of my hand and placing it on my head, "I wouldn't put it past Grandma. Hey! Have you seen the new jewellery stand?"

"I can't see anything, you pulled the hat over my eyes," I readjust it on my head and follow the direction she points in. I'm slightly surprised that I didn't notice it earlier, but it's not exactly flashy. Can't exactly blame me for being unobservant...

"Think you could check it out for me? I'm on shift all day and I want to know if they have any good or really unique pieces," she asks with her sweet as syrup voice. She always uses it whenever she wants anything, I really have to stop falling for it.

I groan in response; I'd rather go home than spend anymore time out here in the cold. Even with my coat the biting wind is starting to feel chilly. 

"You won't have to pay for the hat if you do."

And just like that, my mind is changed, "Deal. Now let's shake hands to show no going back on your word. This hat is free."

Charlotte laughs, firmly taking my hand in hers and wiggling it up and down. It's only to show how ridiculous I'm being but hey, I'm not the one paying for an expensive handmade hat. Jokingly saluting, I head off towards the new stand.

"Bye then!" she shouts behind me. 

Inside a glass viewing case there are lots of necklaces, rings, bracelets, tiaras and anklets - any accessory I could name and they'd have it, looking at the display I'm fairly certain of it. Some are silver and some are gold. They sparkle prettily, the dimming  light reflecting off of coloured jewels. Not every design is as simple as that, a few twist intricately around the stones encased in them. I wonder whether they're real or fake...

As if reading my mind, the stall owner's attention snaps to me, "They're real if you're wondering, real diamonds, and real gold. Handmade too."

I glance up at them, their piercing green eyes are just slightly unsettling. Somehow they almost look familiar. She seems candid enough, enough that I believe her anyway. Her pieces of jewellery are easily some of the highest quality I've seen. Then again, it's not like I'm a jewellery connoisseur. I can't help staring at them though, they're completely captivating... They're captivating but not unique and they're way out of Charlotte's price range anyhow.

Still, I can't quite tear my eyes away. I don't even realise that my face is practically touching the glass until my breath mists it over and I have to wipe away the fog. A single wooden ring, carved wood twining around a small emerald, is what truly catches my eye. A hand reaches inside the display case, taking out the exact ring I was staring at. I can't afford it, even so, a pang of disappointment runs through me at the thought of someone else having that ring.

Deciding it's about time I started on my way home, I stand up and pull my face away. I'm a few steps away, making a face and gestures at Charlotte to signal how expensive everything is, when I realise there'd been no one but me around.

"Don't you want it?" She holds the ring between two fingers.

"Yes, but I doubt I could afford it..." Without even knowing I'd moved, I'm back at the stall.

She reaches over and pulls my hand toward her, "That's alright, you can take it," she drops the ring into my palm and closes my fingers around it.

Stunned, I'm about to protest until I feel a drop of rain hit my head. I dart straight back to Charlotte, taking shelter under the waterproof fabric roof. "So, how long until you finish? This coat has no hood and I know you aren't gonna lend me your umbrella so I'll just wait and run to your place under it with you."

She glances at her watch, "I'm here another hour even though there's no one around. And Kallima, you're wearing a hat, you don't need a hood or an umbrella..."

"You know you make a very good point. Enjoy the rest of your shift then!" I sprint home as quickly as my slow legs will take me. I don't particularly want wet groceries.

Somehow they're dry when I dump them on the table and begin organising. It's a shame the cupboards are such a mess, it means I have to organise them too. I have no idea what my Dad does but he always seems to leave everything in disarray. I find myself stacking tons of peas and beans for the good part of an hour before I'm all done.

Satisfied, I shove my hands in my pockets, scrutinising everything one last time. One of my hands brushes the ring, I'd almost forgotten about it. I turn it over and over in my hand. Up close, I can see even better how well carved it is. It looks like the roots of a tree twining over a mossy green rock. I slip it on my ring finger and go to check my planner. If I do all my homework on a Saturday night it leaves Sunday free.

There's not much written down, much to my joy. There is, however, chemistry homework...

[captainlenfan]

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Fitness Smart Watch Activity Tracker WomenMen Kid Fit bit Android iOS Heart Rate

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[getothefashion]

we’re counting down our picks for the top 10 best looks at the 2020 Grammys for this list. we're taking a look at the most memorable looks at the 62nd annual Grammy Awards - More Fashion Article For You: These Men fashion trends will take place in 2020 Fashion Week London Trends in 2020 This Great Herbal Lotion Made From Cannabis Joe Jonas with His Wife Sophie Sophie Turner and Joe Jonas getting the Jonas brothers back. together is one thing but having the jiae sisters all under one roof had us over the moon attending. The event with nick Jonas with his lovely wife Priyanka Chopra was nothing short of ravishing in her Ralf and Russo gown. if we had to single out one power couple however it would have to be Joe Jonas and Sophie Turner.  The husband and wife apparently decided to color coordinate for the red carpet with black ensembles joe looked positively dapper in his multicolored jacket and pants. while Sofie stunned in her Louis Vuitton minidress, we're not sure which accessory we’d rather have in our wardrobe. joe's bomber jacket or Sophie's Christian Louboutin heels well both, all we know is that these two couldn't be more adorable.  H.E.R for the second year in arrow, this R&B artist scored an impressive 5 Grammy nominations. Gabriela Wilson is also known as her arrived in a bold squared robe reminiscent of the foxy 1970s wrapped up in a gold belt. Wilson’s dress gave the effect of her coming out of a garden of exotic plants with psychedelic colors popping out everywhere.  she topped off the look with an updo, but it was Wilson's aviator shades that stood out above all else sure. Sunglasses have always been Wilson’s signature, but it's not every day that she wears Shirr lenses giving us a good look at her radiant eyes. Gwen Stefani Gwen Stefani attended the Grammys with her boyfriend Blake Shelton. and the couple immediately showed off their fun-loving energy. Stefani's beige and white ensemble seemed understated from afar, but once you looked closer at her strapless Dolce & Gabbana mini dress you could see it was ornamented with white seashells.  Though it seemed like a bit of a joke, Shelton reportedly started collecting shells after meeting Stephanial most four years ago, while Shelton didn’t gather every shell displayed on the dress. Shelton confirmed that some of the shells came from his personal collection. the shells may some significant waves but the dress itself also made quite the splash looking as scrumptious as a cupcake. Stefani rounded out the outfit with a pair of thigh-high boots number seven. Billy Eilish Billy Eilish in addition to receiving six nominations Billy Eilish set a record as the youngest artist to be nominated in four of the main Grammy categories at age 17. Eilish is known for her eccentric fashion sense and while it may be an acquired taste her Gucci suit was perfectly on-brand in attendance with her brother producer of the year Finneas.  Eilish complimented this daring look with black gloves lengthy green fingernails and a pair of dark sunglasses. practically sweeping with winds for album of the year Best Pop vocal album record of the year song of the Year and Best New Artist we can expect to see a lot more of Eilish on the red carpet in the future the party is anything but over.  Bebe Rexha we can see why Bebe Rexha said that this Christian calendar feels like a strong woman. The past Grammy nominee was the very definition of power in this striking color and matching. Sophia Webster heals what really tied the outfit together, though was the sheer top listening under the suit, on the whole, this ensemble managed to strike an unlikely balance of alluring yet.  commanding catching all eyes in the room and making us simultaneously want to wear this every day at the office but also, every night on the town wrecks have kept her hair in loose short waves to really let the clothes shine. Camila Cabello  Camila Atelier Versace dress was a bit on the Gothic side but, Camilla Cabello nevertheless beamed with life on the red carpet. the Cuban American singer's black dress was adorned with crystals. which was an ideal match for her diamond necklace reportedly worth 2 million dollars.  Though we're L’Oréal makeup look was actually affordable for us normal folk. in a departure from her usual hairdo, the seniorita co-singer stepped out with a set of banks, that suited the rest of the ensemble quite well. it's a look that shook things up while at the same time fitting Cabello to a tee. Rosalia The Spanish singer behind el marketer and Best New Artist nominee Rosalia almost matched the red carpet in her red leather ensemble. of course, she by no means blended into the background on the contrary Rosalia was on fire in this Alexander Wang outfit.  which was distinguished with a stylish belt under the belted top was a fringe skirt and a pair of sandals as stunning as the dress. might have been it was photo Sonya's nails that had everyone raving the flamenco artist. essentially turned her fingertips into sharp silver diamonds grabbing everyone's attention. Billy Porter it's just not an award show unless Billy Porter shows up in a dramatic getup and the post is once again turned plenty of heads with his Grammys look. we almost didn’t recognize Porter as he was hidden under a giant hat with a remote-control fringe veil, oh and naturally, the veil consisted of 70,000 crystals.  The Hall went flawlessly with the rest of Porter’s ensemble a gleaming blue Baja East jumpsuit right out of the disco era along with a silver spider bracelet and Judith Lieber handbag. Porter strutted down the red carpet in coach boots that had been decked out in over 9,000crystals as much as we love this look. Twitter means to come out of it are going to keep us alive throughout the whole year. Lizzo few stars shined brighter at this year's Grammys than Lizzo. not only did the artist lead the nominations with eight in total but her Versace gown practically broke the Internet. Lizzo paired her dress with a matching fur boa and purse channeling Marilyn Monroe in diamonds were definitely,  Lizzo's best friend that night accessorizing with a shimmering necklace and earrings. The dress was also reportedly inspired by music legends Diana Ross and Cher Lizzo wore.  A wedding dress in the music video for truth hurts but, this is the gown that any bride would die for. she wasn't done slaying us with her sartorial choices though opening the award show with a Bebe Rexha powerful performance in Christian Siriano, then opting for a flapper-inspired silver dress. which went nicely with the gold of her three Grammys any timely so does anything I applaud she's a motivational Queen. Ariana Grande okay well, we would also totally wear this as a wedding dress, Ariana Grande’s bluish-gray Giambattista Valli gown was a three-tiered the masterpiece of fashion, after missing the Grammys last year amid a disagreement with producer Ken Ehrlich. we were all eager to see what Grande would wear for her big return.  Grande certainly made a grand entrance with this epic ensemble, complete with matching gloves and her famous ponytail. upon seeing Grande in this dress. stylist LA Roche reportedly broke down in happy tears, honestly, we'd probably have a similar reaction if we spotted someone in such a marvelous gown.

http://getothefashion2.blogspot.com/2020/01/celebrity-fashion-grammy-2020.html