#that aside even chapter 3 could improve in many areas. it feels more like a puzzle game with horror elements rather than a horror game with

[tasmanianstripes]

Amazing how it took the developers of Poppy Playtime two whole chapters to finally make a bare minimum of a functional game

[hit-me-with-a-ladle]

Ch. 6 Creepypasta x fem!reader

Hey, guys hope you're liking the chapters, now I'm sorry I didn't post the chapter yesterday my computer was malfunctioning and I had to fix it. But now we're all good and I can be more consistent. I also turned my comments on so I hope that you'll tell me what you liked and disliked about the story. But without further ado enjoy<3.

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A week had passed since the girl started training, and she could feel herself improve as the days progressed. Jack, at first, was ruthless towards her, but he calmed down and at least waited for her when she was struggling to walk back to the cabin. She also had a strict workout regiment made by him. He acted as a personal trainer of sorts as she had to use heavy objects as weights and was made to sprint around the forest to build up stamina and muscle to improve her strength. But when the week had ended, so had Jacks' first shift to train her, and now it was Maskys turn.

The cold Monday air hit her face when she woke up. Feel her eyelids becoming heavy she wanted to go back to bed but stopped herself. Jack had warned her that Masky hated tardiness and that he expected her to be ready by 7:30 AM. So the girl had set the red alarm clock that laid on the small desk next to her bed to ring at 6:45 AM. Lazily getting out of bed, she neared the closet, getting a set of clean clothes( Her closet had been updated, with more essential clothes, like underwear and socks). Then headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

Slackly scrubbing her body under the look worm pellets of shower water that quickly streamed down her bare body, she remembered her first few interactions with Masky, like when he attacked her that cursed night. She could recall his rude and disrespectful behaviour towards her, and if she was honest, she didn't regret stabbing him in the leg with her kitchen knife. An irate expression then fell upon her face as she cursed him and all the others under her breath. Because of them, she was in this hell hole, she hated it. She just wanted to be home. But she was also mad at herself for not taking more initiative and trying to make an actual escape plan.

' Do I have Stockholm syndrome or something?' She questioned herself as she started to feel her eyes water, but immediately pulled back those tears, not wanting her eye to puffen. She'd already been showering for over fifteen minutes without noticing. Not wanting to waste even more time she got out of the shower and dressed she quickly walked to her room to check the time. She had 15 minutes to eat before her training started.

Running downstairs, she instantly started making something to eat as she turned around and was about to head in the direction of the dining table. And in the heat of the moment, she had harshly bumped into something making her drop the large white plate of food she'd been carrying. A loud bang of porcelain contacting the hard wooden floor rung through her ears as she angrily looked up to see what the hell was in the way. Though her features instantly softened when she realised it was Masky towering over her. His white mask was even creepier up close. It looked old and worn out, it also had some red discolouration on the lower half of it with some minor erring at the sides. His demeanour seemed stiff as a deep growl escaped from his throat.

" Watch where you're going, goddamn it." He spoke as he pushed her aside to pass. " And clean that up right now. I mean Jesus Christ, your so much wasting time, you have less than ten minutes." The girl glared daggers as he spoke. Rage fueled her mind as she wanted to punch him square in the face, although she stopped herself, not wanting to cause any trouble. She just took in a sharp breath, closing her eyes she promptly cleaned up the mess. Hastily making herself some cereal she ate it as quickly as she could.

Masky watched her, however feeling disdain towards her as he did. His leg was still sour from where she had stabbed him, but he planned to get back at her by making the next week they had together a living hell. Staring at the clock, every minute or so he would check it to see what it said, and the moment the arrow hit exactly 7:30, he got up from where he was sitting. " Get the hell up we're going," He roughly grabbed the bowl in front of her and flushed the remaining bit of food down the drain. The girls just pursed her lips as her gaze turned bitter in the mere sight of him. She slowly got up and followed him outside. They were on the same path she took to get to the clearing she and Jack would fight in, but instead of turning left and following the path, he went in the opposite direction.

Confusion washed over her as she follower curiously, still not trusting him fully. " Where are we going?" She promptly asked as they were walking for a while. She could feel him roll his eyes, " Be quiet your voice irritates me." Not having anything else to do she just huffed loudly and followed the masked man she dislike so much with her arms folded over her chest. Her feet kept on hitting the many tree roots scattered around the path as she watched the leaves fall from the trees. Her mind wandered with them, she'd been so stressed this last week that she'd forgotten to enjoy her surroundings and she hand realised just how beautiful the forest truly was. That morning she felt a light breeze graze her soft skin as she looked up to the clear blue sky. The sound of rustling leaves filled her ears as she softly smiled at the beautiful sight of the trees being carried by the wind.

Without noticing that Masky had halted to a stop, she walked into him for the second time that day, he stood like a tree and the hard impact made the girl tumble a bit before regaining her stance. Though the man didn't even seem to notice, she softly grumbled under her breath before walking next to him. As she looked up and got a good look at her surrounding she was dumbfounded. In front of her was scattered some of the most beautiful looking flora in her life. The grass that covered the soil seemed lighter than the one she was standing on, different types of multicoloured flowers strewed in patches all around it and right in the middle, in front of them both, stood an old thick tree. It was remarkably tall, moss laid on its right side and it looked worn out over time. Its long brown branches twisted and turned as golden-green leaves spread all along with them. There was a thin stone pathway leading up to the tree and circling it to give room for someone to walk around.

" What is this place?" She softly spoke as her jaw had dropped from the sensory overload she was experiencing by the gorgeous scenery in front o her. Masky brought up his right hand closing her jaw, " This is going to be your first lesson, how to take care of this area of the forest. It's essentially the heart of it giving it its 'power' pet say, this tree is thousands of years old and you, as a middleman, have the task to not let it die." He said pointing at her as he walked through the stone path and stood in front of the tree, the girl soon following. " How do I take care of it? And what happens if I let it die?" She asked as she looked up at the tree then at him.

" Well, firstly, these flowers have to be watered every few days or they die out, and if they die out, the tree soon will follow after them. Also, the tree has to be checked and graded in 3 stages to make sure it's in the right order. Firstly, if the leaves change colour every season. When in the winter their silver and or blue, In Atom orange and or purple, spring red and or pink and then summer as you can see this type of greenish-gold colour or pure gold colour that has a whole meaning in its self. But ill explain the meaning of the colours later, when we get you a notebook you can write all of this down. But there is a deviation from this pattern the tree is most likely dying for some reason and you have to find out what the reason for that is. Second, if you notice that it starts to have some kind of sweet n=honey like odour then its sap is ready to be harvested and you'll have to harvest every last drop of it. Though this could happen any time there's no real regulation the when it can or can't, the sap is needed for magic. Lastly, You will also have to feed the tree a special oil-based serum that you will learn to make, you can do this around the time you water the plants, but f you see it rejecting it and not absorbing the oil then there's something wrong and you will have to inspect it and see if there's some kind of defect going on to fix. Now to answer your second question, if the tree were to die in your care then you will go through the most excruciating execution of your life." He spoke quickly almost as if he was dictating this to a whole class of people, though the way he announced the last sentence his tone got darker and it sent shivers up the girl's spine.

He put his hands behind his back and began to cercal the tree, the girl trailing close behind. " Now, I want to inform you that this is a type of safe space for you during the day as it prevents any magical creature from going through it. Only humans are allowed. Although, I do have to preface that there's a difference between creatures that descend from, magic and creatures that can do magic. A good example of this rule is Jack and I. He is a creature derived from magic and is not allowed to step through this in the day, and I being a human with the core and basic knowledge of magic, am allowed during the day." He spoke very fast and when he finished he took in a long breath and sighed. The girl listened thoroughly to every word he uttered but something seemed to be troubling her. " You keep on specifying that I can go here during the day. Why is that, does something happen at night?" Her tone was lased in confusion as she stopped to look around the small area.

" Well during the night this place becomes a breeding ground for death, many evil creatures come here to finish off their victims or to spend the night. This place doesn't look remotely similar at night. You'll be as good as done for if you were ever to be so unlucky as to be here untrained and unprepared past twelve. The biggest scum of this forest dwell in the night" The last few words he spoke dragged, his body seemed to tense up as he looked at her with his piercing brown eyes, which were the only thing she could see under his pale mask. "That's why unless it's something urgent do not go out in the forest at night if you're not well trained, do I make myself clear?" His tone was rough but she could tell that there was some level of concern tied within his statement, making her faintly smile.

" The first day ill be a little lenient, as to get you familiarized with the basic layout of the forest which you'll have to memorize." Clearing his throat he smirked as he slowly approached her. " I have the map to this place in my back pocket." He said stopping in front of her as he pulled out a big colourful map of the forest, the girl questioned how he was able to fit that in there. "That's why ill give you till tomorrow to learn it all." The girl's eyes went wide, she was sure he was smiling under his mask and she hated it. " What are you crazy how am I suppos-" She interjected but was soon cut off by the masked man chuckling in amusement, he got closer to her and put one of his gloved hands on her shoulder roughly pulling her towards him as he spoke.

" Well, I'm sorry to say this but there's no negotiation. Now, let's continue with our lesson. I kindly advise paying better attention to what I'm saying to make learning this by tomorrow easier. Because if you don't know let's just say things won't end well for you."

[theshatteredrose]

Relic Keepers: Awakening of the Red Lily (Chapter 35) - Original Fiction

AN: Ooh, boy, this was a long chapter to write. Hope you enjoy reading!

Ao3 | Wattpad | Inkitt | FictionPress

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Chapter 35:

Night had fallen quickly, plunging their surroundings into pitch black not long after they had returned to camp. Eishirou was once again issued with the task of sitting down and letting the Elites prepare camp, where they would stay for the night. Although feeling somewhat guilty that he wasn’t physically useful, he had other work that needed to be done.

The campfire was the first thing to be built, so he was sat on some thick padding on the ground next to the fire.

The illumination of the campfire would prove to be less of a beacon for ShadowDwellers than an artificial lantern. Besides, there was something alluring about a campfire; the sound, the smell, the dancing, flickering light.

It reminded Eishirou of the recordings he had viewed. Which helped since he was in the middle of typing out a report for said recordings.

His writings wouldn’t be considered professional to many, but since it was to reach Jacob, it didn’t have to be perfect. He just needed to jot down what he had witnessed as frankly as possible. Even if his musings were somewhat jumbled.

Although reluctant to do so, he also explained the moments of their first ShadowDweller encounter and then near-miss with a rockslide. Those pieces of information were sure to worry anyone who read the report, especially Jacob, but Eishirou knew it wasn’t something he could just flatly deny.

But he did add the small consolation of a possible new area to explore sometime in the future.

Zayne suddenly dropping down onto the mat next to him, lounging causally on his side, pulled Eishirou from his work.

“Did you take your painkiller?” Zayne asked as he rested his chin in the palm of his hand and leaned on his elbow.

Eishirou nodded. “Yep. Needed to get this report done before the drowsiness kicks in.”

Thankfully, he was almost done with the wordy part of his report, as jumbled as that was. All he needed to do next was to attach the photos he had taken.

Speaking of photos.

“Before I send this; can you see it?” Eishirou questioned as he turned his tablet toward Zayne.

“Hm?” Zayne glanced at it idly to begin with before he perked up and reached with his hand to take hold of the tablet so that he could get a closer look. “Is that the ShadowDweller we encountered today?”

Eishirou felt a rush of relief. “Ah, so it did work.”

He had been worried that it would just disappear from existence or something.

Intrigued by Zayne’s response, Rinka wandered over to him with a wholly curious expression. “Can I see?”

As Eishirou retrieved the tablet from Zayne to present to Rinka, Leon wandered over, also.

“I’m interested, too,” he admitted and leaned over Rinka’s shoulder (more like simply tilted his head down since he was so tall) to look at the tablet, too. A flicker of surprise appeared on his face, matched in time with Rinka’s eyes widening, before he appeared intrigued. “Hmm. Looks bigger from this photo.”

Did it? From Eishirou’s point of view, the photo couldn’t properly convey how big the ShadowDweller truly was in person.

“Isn’t it virtually impossible for a photo to be taken of a ShadowDweller?”

Eishirou winced at Cadmus’s sudden but actually quite understandable question. “W-well, yeah.”

As he retrieved the tablet from Rinka, he risked a glance over in the veteran Elite’s direction. Only to find a pair of sharp eyes fearlessly and pointedly looking directly at him.

“How did you manage it?”

“I just…took the photo,” Eishirou replied as he turned his head away abruptly and busied himself attaching photos to his report. “I mean, it showed up on the map, so I figured that it had enough outward mana to take a photo of it. Of course, it could just be sheer luck.”

Cadmus didn’t verbally respond. Though, Eishirou certainly felt his eyes on him…

His question also caused a tense silence to fall over the group. Rinka shuffled away, moving to sit next to Ernesta on the other side of the campfire. Leon shoved his hands into his pockets as he turned to pace the perimeter of their camp.

“So, this means it’s the first photo of a ShadowDweller, right?” Zayne suddenly commented, breaking the silence. “It’ll be sure to make you famous.”

Zayne’s tone was light with a hint of teasing, which prompted Eishirou to relax. “I hope not. But I do hope it’ll be of use for future ShadowDweller Research.”

Just before Eishirou moved to finally send off his report, he took a moment to gaze at the ShadowDweller photo again. Was it really the only photo of a ShadowDweller in existence? More importantly, how and why was he able to take photo?

Hm…The X marking he saw didn’t show up on the photo?

Well, that was something he would have to work on later. His first priority was to learn how to activate the Red Lily. Before those Star Rebellion group got their hands on it.

“There,” Eishirou sighed. “Hopefully that went through.”

“Was that information sent to Professor Chryses?” Ernesta asked.

Eishirou set his tablet aside. “Not directly, but it should get to him. It’s easier for me to send information through to Communications. Misaki will then send it to the appropriate people.”

Leon paused in his pacing and tilted his head to the side. “Misaki?”

“Oh, Misaki is going to be our contact for this mission,” Eishirou explained, leaning back on his hands. “I feel kinda bad since he's going to be working overtime for this.”

“Ah,” Leon uttered simply in understanding. He paused for a moment before adding, “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” Eishirou replied with a smile. “He has a habit of being parental at times. I keep telling him to take medical classes as I’m sure he would be a great medic.”

Leon turned back to his pacing, those his movements were more for the need to move rather than out of caution. “He definitely seems the type not liking to see anyone hurt.”

Eishirou immediately nodded his head. “Definitely.”

He soon found himself musing that possibility. “Hm, I wonder if that’s the reason why he’s reluctant to become a medic. It’s a medic’s job to deal with the injured. He might be better off staying a chronicler and communicator. He’s also the type to take an attack in someone else’s place.”

“Tch.”

A sound, like an annoyed scoff, was heard over the crackling of the fire. It was a terse sound, though soft, also. He wasn’t sure if that sound was just one of the many noises of nature around them. Or if someone had responded to his ramblings.

It was probably just a croak of a frog or something.

Though…Ernesta was side-eying Tatsu with a tight frown on her lips.

Another sound was heard, but one that was immediately recognisable. It was his tablet alerting him. He immediately picked up the tablet and tapped at the screen to activate. Thankfully, it was a message from Misaki.

Oh, good, information got through. He hoped Jacob would be thrilled with the information he found. Even though it wasn’t exactly what he was sent to find.

Another message soon came through, once again from Misaki. Though, it was on the behalf of Neriah.

“Oh hey, Leon?” Eishirou called out, immediately gaining the Elite’s attention. “I just got a message from Neriah regarding Mikiel. His status has been steadily improving. His brainwaves are becoming stable. He believes that he may awaken in a few days.”

Leon perked his head up, an expression of relief on his face. “Really?”

“Hm?” Cadmus uttered. “That is the Elite you rescued, yes?”

“Yes,” Ernesta immediately answered, turning her head in the veteran’s direction to gaze at him with a somewhat placid expression. “We found his badge and it is thanks to Eishirou that we had found him in time.”

Cadmus arched an eyebrow at the team leader. Eishirou was about to explain that it was Team 3 who had found and rescued Mikiel. Eishirou had just been the medic at the time. But another buzzing from his tablet prompted him to immediately turn his attention back to it.

It was another message from Misaki. The content of the message, however, didn’t appear pleasant. If Misaki beginning the message with “debated whether or not to give you this while on a mission” was any indication.

And after reading the message, he immediately understood why.

It was information about the missing Elites of Flutterlight Forest. And the news wasn’t good. Two bodies had been found. The document didn’t go into great detail about what…state the bodies were found it. But the information it did provide was no less disturbing.

They were…robbed of their belongings? Badges and holsters? That…meant they weren’t the victims of ShadowDwellers, did it? A ShadowDweller had no use for such items.

He tried to supress a wince as he read through the information, but clearly, he did a poor job at it as Zayne immediately nudged him with his arm.

“What’s wrong?”

“There's...news about a two of the missing Elites,” Eishirou admitted reluctantly.

“From your wince, the news isn't good?”

Eishirou shook his head and sighed. He couldn’t keep the information away from the others. It was disturbing, something that needed to be known. And that would, no doubt, increase the Elites’ caution and protection.

“No. They were found. Not alive, though.”

A tense silence immediately fell over the campsite.

“…Any names?” Leon asked softly.

Eishirou shook his head again, granting the silently distraught Elite a sympathetic look. “No. Not yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Leon replied simply, his voice purposely steady. However, he turned his back toward the campfire and stared out into the pitch darkness of the forest around them.

Everyone fell into silence once more.

Eishirou looked sadly at Leon’s back before he uttered a sigh. He set his tablet aside upon his bag and pulled his legs to his chest and rested his chin atop of his knees. He was certain that Zayne and the others were worried about future encounters with ShadowDwellers, those creatures being the first to come to mind upon learning the defeat of a pair of Elites.

But the information Eishirou had read indicated that something else might be response. Something wholly more human. Of course, he had no way knowing that human interference was involved. Maybe a ShadowDweller was responsible and someone opportunistic looted the bodies for their own gain.

Whatever the reason, he was grateful that Zayne was beside him.

“You know,” Tatsu unexpectedly began, “there’s a theory doing the rounds stating that the presence of Passives may be the reason for increased ShadowDweller attacks.”

Eishirou abruptly lifted his chin from his knees and whipped his head in Tatsu’s direction.

That…he had heard something along the lines of it. High populations of Passives, with their inert mana deposits, were believed to be a draw point for ShadowDwellers. It hadn’t been confirmed. But it hadn’t been debunked, either.

Do…do Elites believe that, though?

Zayne slowly pushed himself upright. “Is that so?” he asked slowly, his tone terse. “Are you saying that it was Misaki's fault he got injured when he was a kid? By a ShadowDweller, no less? While you, an Elite, was there and should have done something about it?”

From the other side of the camp, Tatsu snapped his head sharply in Zayne’s direction. “What did you just say?” he hissed, surprising and honestly startling Eishirou greatly.

Zayne, however, scoffed and pushed himself to his feet. “Do I need to repeat myself? Misaki has a scar on his forehead because of a ShadowDweller attack. An attack you were present for. Does it bother you that a weak, fragile Passive protected your worthless ass instead? Is that it?”

Tatsu’s green eyes seemed to…flash with anger. “That isn’t what happened. Who told you that?”

“Who do you think? It may surprise you that Eishirou and Misaki are friends.”

Tatsu turned his head sharply in Eishirou’s direction. “Eishirou…”

The way he practically growled his name with barely suppressed rage caused Eishirou to wince. And feel the need to, well…hide away from him. That anger…he wouldn’t actually attempt to hurt him. Would he?

However, Zayne suddenly moved to stand in front of Eishirou. Protecting him. Again. “Eyes on me, asshole.”

“Why are you so obsessed with him?” Tatsu snapped. “He's just a Passive!”

“Eishirou is not just a Passive,” Zayne retorted just as sharply. “He's a medic, a researcher, a Chronicler. He enjoys reading up ancient myths and legends. He plays a violin, for fuck's sake. He's not just a Passive.”

Eishirou’s felt his eyes widen as he stared up at Zayne. His back straight, his shoulders tense, his legs spread apart in a power stance. He meant it. He meant everything he said. He wasn’t just standing up for him – he was protecting him. Not only because he needed it.

But because, in his mind, he deserved it.

Zayne…

“But you,” Zayne continued. “You’re nothing but an Elite. And that’s all you will ever be.”

That…

He was talking about himself, too, wasn’t he?

“That’s enough,” Cadmus interjected with a purely reprimanding tone, physically moving to stand between the two. “Zayne, an Elite is meant to remain professional at all times.”

“Since when does being professional mean you have to be a cold, heartless bastard?” Zayne retorted.

And it appeared to be a question that Cadmus couldn’t answer immediately.

“Passives don't belong on the battlefield,” Tatsu quickly spat, unable to hold himself back from doing so.

Again, Zayne snapped his attention toward his teammate. “You’re sounding like a fucking parrot, repeating the same shit over and over again. Sure, Passives shouldn’t be on the battlefield, which is why there are fucking Elites, you dumbass! Passives don't fight! They don't have to! They do literally everything else!”

“Only because of Elites. Passives wouldn’t exist without Elites!”

“Elites wouldn’t survive without Passives!

Tatsu barked out a sharp, almost disturbing laugh. “Do you actually believe that shit?”

Zayne’s expression unexpectedly darkened. “I bet you can't even cook a cup of instant noodles without fucking it up. Elites are useless outside the battlefield. And you know it. And that's why you're such an asshole; you've been told that Elites are superior. That we are all powerful and important. But we're not. We fight. We fight and protect. And that's fucking it. We can't have hobbies. We can't have interests. We can't even have friends. We're soldiers, not human beings. And that's fucking infuriating.”

Eishirou…knew those things. But it hurt to hear. It hurt because no one disputed that. No one attempted to correct him.

“Ok, that’s enough,” Cadmus once again tried to intervene.

But Zayne was having none of it. His frustrations, his anger, his…self-loathing was too much. He had been holding back for so long.

He couldn’t hold it back any more.

“No, you shut and listen for once in your god-damn life,” Zayne said, utterly scathingly toward his father, visibly startling the other man. “I'm not just an Elite. I'm not just a prodigy. I'm not just the son to an Elite. There is more to me than being an Elite. I know there is. But I don't know what. I want to find out. I want to have hobbies. I want to have interests. I want there to be more to life than god-damn ShadowDwellers. Why is that so fucking wrong to you?”

Silence. A tense silence. The kind of tension one could just about physically see fell over the campsite once more.

Zayne stood off against his father, the two just staring at each other with unreadable expressions. But Eishirou could tell what Zayne had said struck a chord with his father. His cold silence, the purposely stoic expression…the crease at the corners of his eyes.

He felt something.

And Zayne…He had…been holding that in for a long time, hadn’t he? Years’ worth of pain and resentment.

“…This is not something that should be discussed here,” Cadmus finally stated, attempting to dismiss any possible future outburst. “Now let’s-”

“I want to as well.”

Rinka’s soft voice interrupting the Veteran Elite caused everyone to turn in the young woman’s direction. Standing next to the campfire, head lowered with her chin toward her chest and hair curtaining over her eyes, Rinka stood stock still.

With her hands curled into tight fists by her sides.

“Rinka?” Ernesta questioned; her voice filled with obvious concern.

“I want...I want to learn how to draw rabbits,” Rinka began slowly. “I want to learn how to make flower crowns. And go looking for seashells on the beach. I want to play volleyball and go swimming like other girls. I want to listen to music and learn how to dance. I want to be normal.”

Oh…

They…they really weren’t allowed to be anything else but Elites?

Her shoulders began to tremble. “I don’t want to be an Elite. I want to be a Passive!”

Rinka’s raised voice full of pain startled everyone within the camp. So sharp, so sorrowful was her voice, it immediately made Eishirou’s chest ache with pure empathy.

“Rinka…”

Eishirou pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the young Elite-no, young woman. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and crouched down in front of her so that he could look before her curtain of hair to the young, pained youth beneath.

“You don’t need to be a Passive to do those things. You’re human. You’re alive. And that’s a good enough reason,” he said gently as he reached up with his hand to brush aside her hair. “Listen, when we get back to the academy, we’ll go speak with Lyvia. She’ll be happy to help you. And be your friend.”

“R-really?” Rinka murmured as she looked at him with tears in her eyes.

Eishirou nodded and presented her with the handkerchief. “So, don’t cry.”

Rinka fumbled with the handkerchief and used it to hastily rubbed at her eyes. “S-sorry,” she murmured quietly.

When Ernesta moved to stand on Rinka’s other side and, too, lowered her tall frame to crouch down beside her, Eishirou dutifully stood and took a step back. Far from perturbed by Rinka’s outburst, Ernesta appeared sympathetic and understanding. And not remotely surprised.

Of course, he couldn’t be entirely sure as Ernesta’s expressions had always been either placid or passively aggressive. But he swore that she held a sense of gratitude in her eyes when she looked over at him.

Once more, silence reigned over the campsite. Only the crackling fire and the distant sound of frogs could be heart.

They were reacting to their own mortality, weren’t they?

There were reportedly more Passives than Elites, which was why they were so highly regarded. And yet, a reason why there were so few was because it was rare for an Elite to live pass the age of thirty. They were expected to marry young and have children early, to have an Elite child and to continue their lineage. If one did live beyond the age of thirty, they graduate to the title of Veteran Elite.

To live such a short life fighting and doing nothing else…

Being an Elite wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

It made him feel guilty that he was so afraid of Elites.

Eishirou uttered a sigh and pushed himself to his feet. He fidgeted with his hands in front of him as he turned to look into the brightly burning campfire. Something within the dancing flames and the pops and crackles was calming.

Yet, reflective, too.

“To be honest I, too, saw Elites as someone different from me,” Eishirou began quietly. “Someone beyond my league. And someone who I couldn’t possibly engage in conversation with as I expect them to treat me with nothing but disdain. And there were times, in the past, that turned out to be true.”

Haughty, aggressive, arrogant. There was no excuse for their attitudes. And he would never excuse such behaviour. But what he had heard today, he now knew of their reasons. It didn’t excuse their actions, but Eishirou was no longer going to allow himself to make grand, sweeping generalisations of a whole group of people because of a few bad incidents.

“But I understand now. And I’m sorry if I treated Elites differently or shied away from them, from you, because of a perceived intimidation. You’re human. Just like me.”

He used the accompanying silence to walk around the campfire to gather up his bag and tablet. There was still an undeniable amount of tension in the air, but the brewing situation seemed to have been diffused for now.

“It is late,” Ernesta stated. “Eishirou, you should get some sleep. You’ll need your energy for tomorrow.”

Yeah. His painkillers were starting to kick in. He felt exhausted.

“Right,” Eishirou replied simply to Ernesta’s suggestion before he turned and tilted his head questioningly in Zayne’s direction. “Zayne?”

Not bothering to answer verbally, Zayne simply nodded and moved to join Eishirou as he slipped the strap of his bag onto his shoulder. He then slipped an arm around Eishirou’s upper back and proceeded to escort him toward one of the set-up tents, ignoring the stares he was no doubt getting from his father and teammate.

As the flap of the tent fell behind them, blocking the view outside, Zayne suddenly pulled Eishirou into his arms in a tight hug. Eishirou, however, was only half startled by the sudden embrace. In all honesty, after hearing Zayne bare his soul to his father, he had wanted to walk straight up to Zayne and comfort him in some way.

“You ok?” he asked as he rested his cheek against Zayne’s chest, his head nestled beneath the taller man’s chin.

“I’m sorry about that,” Zayne said quietly.

Eishirou raised his hands to slip around Zayne and rest against his back. “You’ve been holding that in for a while, haven’t you?”

“…Yeah,” Zayne admitted around a sigh. “And he just pisses me off.”

Eishirou gave a small chuckle in spite of himself. He wasn’t sure if Zayne was talking about his father, or about Tatsu. The both of them had been sniping at him all day, so it could be either one.

He was glad, however, that Zayne had gotten all of that off of his chest. To hold so much resentment for such a long time must have been incredibly painful.

Eishirou subconsciously tightened his arms around Zayne. He didn’t want him to suffer like that again.

“Zayne, listen; I’m grateful to have met you. For allowing me to do the things I do. Not many Passives get to venture beyond the walls of the city and experience new environments. Places like this. It can be dangerous, I know. But I also know that I am safe with you, no matter what. Others don’t get to see what I see. And I only get to experience these things thanks to you. So, thank you.”

Zayne didn’t respond verbally, at first. However, his arms did tighten around him. One arm wounding tightly against the small of his back, pulling his body closer to his. He then slipped his fingers of his other hand through his hair. With his fingers gentle carding through Eishirou’s hair, Zayne lowered his head to whisper something into his ear.

“Eishirou…I need to tell you something.”

The way Zayne’s warm breath hit the side of his neck caused Eishirou to unwittingly shiver. And a strange, fluttering feeling to appear in the pit of his stomach. “Hm?”

“It’s-” The sound of someone sneezing loudly outside interrupted whatever Zayne was about to say. In annoyance, he sharply turned his head to look over his shoulder toward the entrance of their tent. A motion that caused Eishirou to feel a great sense of disappointment from…something.

“Never mind,” Zayne muttered as he turned back to glance down at Eishirou, whom he still held tightly in his arms. “It can wait.”

“Are you sure?”

Zayne smiled warmly, gently down at him. “Yeah. We’ll talk when we return home. For now, get some sleep.”

“Ok,” Eishirou returned.

Zayne then loosened his arms around him. And Eishirou took a step back and over toward the cot occupying one side of the tent.

He dropped his bag to the ground next to his bed and felt a frown tug at his lips. There was that feeling of disappointment again. The warmth of Zayne’s arms was consuming yet comforting. And to be pulled from them, even by his own accord, felt wrong in some way.

He didn’t have the state of mind to ponder that, however. The painkillers had well and truly kicked in now. And the only reason he hadn’t fallen asleep was that he was standing upright. He was certain that as soon as his head hit the pillow, he would be asleep.

So, without another word, he slipped onto the cot and laid down onto his side.

Just before he fell asleep, he felt something brush against his cheek. It was a hand. Zayne’s hand. He was sure of it. And it made him smile.

… … … … …

A gentle, but urgent hand touching the side of his face awoke Eishirou from his sleep. His eyes fluttered open, though it was a difficult thing to do. All he wanted was to close his eyes and fall back to sleep.

“Eishirou, wake up.”

But the urgency in Zayne’s voice forced him to push through the need to sleep and to open his eyes. It was still night. The tent was dark, saved for the subtle glow of the campfire through the nylon shelter.

“Hm? Wha-?”

Zayne suddenly pressed the pad of his thumb against Eishirou’s lips to silence him. “Shh. Grab your bag. We need to sneak out. We’ve been followed.”

F-followed?

[putflowersinmyhair-callmepretty]

The fate of a nun (Finan x OFC); part 7

GENERAL A/N: Hi there! This story is my first attempt to write a fanfiction. English is not my first language, so feel free to let me know how to improve my writing/language skills 😊 I will try and post a chapter per week, let’s see how it goes! The story takes place in season 3 and you will notice that I have used some of the sequences and dialogues from the tv series, changing them to include my OC. I did try not to be too colloquial and informal with my writing -giving the time of the story- but I preferred to make it more enjoyable and “readable” than realistic, same goes for Finan’s accent. I’m nervous and excited to share my work, hope you enjoy! Bacini, Cate.

A/N: Hiiiii! Sorry for the long break, I’ve been veeeery busy with uni :( Happy New Year and I hope you like this chapter, cause I love it!

Summary: The life of the young novice Aoife completely changes when the Lady of Mercia arrives to the Abbey of Wincelcumb. Oaths, battles and love will turn her in a warrior.

General warnings: Violence, Blood, Strong Language, Smut, Fluff, Graphic description of violence

Chapter’s warning:  Blood and little of Finan in this chapter.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven: Cenric

Abbey of Wincelcumb, Mercia, five years before. The harebells brushed against Aoife’s ankles, leaving an itchy kiss on her soft skin, and she laughed lightly. She had few memories of her mother, but every time the breeze moved her hair, it felt just like her touch. “Quick, quick, child!” Sister Aeskel mumbled patting her back lightly “Always so distracted! God really takes special care of you, I’m surprised you haven’t fallen into a ravine yet.” she growled in her thick Northumbrian accent, but she was trying to suppress a smile. “But you wouldn’t let me die, would you, Sister?” “ Course not! I wouldn’t waste precious help!” Aoife’s cackle was covered by a drumming of hooves, so close that the ground under her naked feet trembled. A beautiful black horse was galloping up the hill, right towards them. “I looked, and behold, a black horse; and he who sat on it had a pair of scales in his hand.” Sister Aeskel cried terrified, but Aoife was not scared, nor believed that the horse was an omen of the apocalypse. As a punch on her stomach, a memory came: a young Aoife was running her small hands on the smooth coat of a horse and her mother was begging her to be careful, a worried look on her ripe, sweet face. “Aoife!” the Sister screamed, pulling her aside just moments before the horse trampled the ground she was standing. It did not stop, running straight towards the Abbey. On its back, a body lay pathetically, like one of those rag dolls sprawled in the corner of her room. “Sister, ‘twas a person!” “I know child, I’m old not blind! Come, quick! Try not to harm yourself until we’re at the Abbey!” There was a library in the nunnery, a square room with the four walls covered with books from floor to ceiling. When she was six, the Abbess forced her to read each of those books. “Books clear your path to Heaven. A full mind is a full soul” she used to say, and at the time Aoife was too scare to disobey; little by little, she started enjoying reading, which pleased the Abbess greatly, and many months before her fourteenth birth she had already read every book in the room. She especially liked the pictures, she would run the tips of her fingers on the lines, her touch light as a feather, careful not to ruin the thin parchment. There was one particular image that intrigued her: a deposition of Christ, his body covered by a thin cloth. The man, lying on the infirmary bed, reminded her of that image. He was sleeping, his breath shallow and heavy. A sheet covered his waist, and a wide and deep wound run down his chest. When Aoife and Sister Aeskel reached the Abbey, the horse was neighing loudly and banging his hooves on the ground. The man had fallen down its back and was now laying on the stairs, a puddle of blood widening under him. Four sisters had hurried him in the nunnery, where Aoife, frozen in horror, had watched Sister Aeskel trying to save his life. “He will live, Aoife.” Sister Aeskel approached her with a motherly smile “Can you please wash him?” She still had his blood under her nails, pressing uncomfortably again her skin and she tried to brush it away on her smock. No matter how hard she tried, she could not take her eyes off the man. He had red hair, messily falling to his broad shoulder, harsh skin burnt by the sun and strong features, with a wide jaw and high cheekbones; she had met men before, bishops, priests and farmers from the village, but no one as handsome as him that even now, passed out and covered in sweat, resembled an angel. She dropped on the chair next to his bed and without thinking about it, took his hand in hers. She knew then that he would be her despair. “Are the ropes tight, Aoife?” She felt weak and feverish, her fingers trembling on the knots. “Aoife!” Sister Aeskel insisted “I need your head to be clear for once.” “They’re tight, Sister.” The nun nodded, gripping nervously the iron poker and pulling it out from the fire. Its red, angry spike made Aoife’s stomach turn. The man’s wound had infected and poking it with burning iron was the only remedy Aeskel knew. “Keep his head still, Aoife.” she ordered. They had moved him on a wooden table, and he was lying unconscious, ankles and wrists tightened with thick ropes. Aoife stuck between his teeth a thick piece of leather, then, with a hand on his cheek and one on his forehead, she kept him down against the wood. “Pray for him, child” Sister Aeskel whispered and pushed the spike in the open wound. There was a moment of celestial peace, then the man squirmed in pain, an animalistic scream exploded from his throat and Aoife was crying, shouting her apologise over his shrieks and she had to push him down with the entire weigh of her body, Aeskel prayers a distant noise in her ears. It lasted not more than a minute, but at the end Aoife was exhausted. Her limbs were shaking violently but she forced herself to pat a fresh cloth on his face, cleaning the sweat and tears from his eyes and skin. His eyelids quivered under her touch and his breath was short but deep, and she smiled gratefully, thanking God for the miracle. And then, she met the palest eyes she had ever seen. The man was awake, for the first time in days, and a weak smile cracked his harsh features. “Are you an angel?” he whispered and passed out again. She entered slowly, careful not to drop the tray with ale and food, while keeping the door open with her hip. “Sir?” she called “I bring food.” He was sitting with his back against the wall, legs stretched and a book on his thighs. He has been awake for a couple of days now, healing faster that she would have expected. Aoife had brought him food since the day he had woken up and he still hadn’t addressed her, and each time she grew more annoyed with the ungrateful man and his surly attitude. He shot her the usual glance, followed by a nod and she stepped closer, putting the tray on the table. She smoothed the creases of her skirt and stood, right in front of him, with her arm crossed. She could not stand ungrateful people, even less being ignored. She felt like she deserved a word of thanks, or at least some kind of acknowledgment. And her sisters too. “Why are you here?” He looked up, an amazed grin on his thin lips “You should change your tone, nun.” She gestured her unveiled head “Clearly, I’m not a nun.” “Why are you living here, then?” “I do not own you an explanation.” “Neither do I.” “I saved your life!” He chuckled coldly “You did not. I clearly remember your pretty face right in front of my eyes, you could not be the one pushing the iron against my flesh, lady.” “But I was the one who took care of you afterwards.” “You expect me to thank you?” Aoife raised her arms exasperated and, with a last venomous look, she left the room. “I apologize, lady.” Aoife did not look up from the herbs she was grinding. She was being difficult, of course, the man’s attitude was annoying, but he had not offended her seriously, not enough to deserve her silence. But, in that world that had stripped her of most of her freedom, her voice was the only power she still owned, and she was allowed to decide who deserved her time. He had not offended her seriously, but he had still been disrespectful and she would not waste another moment being kind to him. “Lay down, lord.” she instructed, and still pushed him down before her words could reach his ears, just because she felt the urge to treat him like a child. God would forgive her, he would even laugh, she was sure of it. Despite her prideful thoughts, she could not help but admire his pale bare torso, the soft blonde hair covering his chest and the bright red line of the healed wound. He had a mark on the base of his neck and the desire to press her lips on that area shook her to her core. “Yeah, just skip this part of the story, would you?” Finan mumbled, eyes fixed on the dancing flames. Aoife blushed, both for the cold breeze and the embarrassment of her words, and nodded quickly. Somewhere, deep in her soul, she acknowledged his jealousy and the small, sinful fairy in her, who enjoyed Finan’s attention more that her Christian education would allow her to, smirked viciously. At some point while she was talking, his hand had dropped in her lap and she had held it since and with every stroke of his rough thumb on the back of her hand, she felt her heart rate speed up. “Of course, yes. Where was I?” She spread the poultice all over his irritated skin, careful not to hurt him. “It shall fasten the healing.” she explained coldly, all her attention fixed on what she was doing. Still, she could not help but look up when his hand closed around hers. The man was already watching her, with a tentative smile, and when he noticed her attention, he retracted his hand quickly and she found herself missing the warmth of his touch on her skin. “Lady, I must apologise for my previous words. I did not intended to offend you.” She scoffed, getting back up and stepping away “You did offended me, lord. You can or cannot tell me who you are, it is not in my powers nor my intentions to force you to tell us what you might desire to keep a secret. And I apologise for demanding it.” She was rushing her words, afraid that if she would stop, she would not find the courage to keep going “However, you own words of thanks and an explanation to my Sisters that had sheltered and took care of you, only with kindness, but you’ve been patronizing us and treating the people that are healing and feeding you with arrogance.” she collected her mortar and pestle “You could be the king of Northumbria, for all I know, but this is the house of God and before him we’re all the same.” she smiled coldly and with a little bow, she walked to the door. “I am no king, lady.” he raised his voice to hopefully stopping her from leaving. She turned around slightly, watching him with her eyebrows raised. “I am no king, lady. I’m just a man and you can call me Cenric. If you’ll allow me, I will tell you my story.” Under his hesitant gaze, she smiled tenderly “Thank you, Cenric. I’d be honoured.” It was a cloudy, calm spring day, but the summer was coming, she could smell it in the breeze. The lord was walking slowly, carefully leaning on a wooden stick she had grossly carved during the night. Sister Aeskel had asked Aoife to take him for a walk and she had more than gladly obey, she was craving any piece of information over the man. He was breathing heavily and Aoife asked him many times if he wanted to rest somewhere for a while, but he was as stubborn as a bull and every time she pointed out his fatigue, he sped up his pace, so she stopped asking, humouring him to prevent his wound to open again. They walked for a while in silence, and she patiently let him enjoy the clear air and peace; wherever he came from, she was sure there was no place as restful as the gardens of the Abbey. Somehow, they ended up in the stables. Cenric’s majestic black horse was the only one in the stalls and was chewing hay slowly. “Poor thing” Aoife said lowly “It must miss running.” She could feel his gaze on her skin “She sure does, she’s always being restless.” he stepped closer and the horse pushed her face against the palm of her owner. Cenric caressed her with long, slow strokes and gestured Aoife to approach them. “Put your hand under her nose, let her smell you.” The horse sniffed her deeply, tickling Aoife’s wrist with her warm breath. She couldn’t help but laugh lightly and the sound amazed the animal that shot her a wary look and then pushed her long face against the girl’s shoulder. The strong, affectionate touch took Aoife by surprise and she stepped back, losing her balance. She felt Cenric’s strong touch against the small of her back, sending shivers down her spine. Aoife held her breath, careful not to break the perfection of that experience. No man had ever touched her before, not even a brush of fingers, and the pressure of Cenric’s hand on her was secure and strong and made her head spin. It was just a moment, though, then he drifted away to run his fingers through the mare’s coat; she mimicked him and it felt like the most precious velvet under her fingertips. “What’s her name?” she asked then timidly, she hoped he would not notice the shortness of her breath and the blush on her full cheeks. She could hear him smile through his words “Godiva.” “Godiva!” Finan turned around shooting a knowing smile to the black mare that was grazing grass a few steps further. “Ye’.” Aoife smiled fondly at the creature “A valuable gift.” “He must have loved you dearly.” Finan noticed, watching her through his thick eyelashes. Aoife could not meet his eyes, fearing that she would break in tears in front of that stupid fire “Shush, let me talk.” “She must have cost a fortune.” “She was gifted to me.” Cenric answered and his amused smirked appeared under Godiva’s neck “You’re a curious little thing, aren’t you?” She smiled brightly “You promised me you would tell me your story.” He chuckled, watching her intensely “Indeed I promised. What do you want to know, lady? You can ask me freely.” “I have to ask?” He raised his eyebrows, a blank expression on his face, and with an exasperated groan she pointed at his chest “Who hurt you? And how? And why?” “So many questions…” “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” He rolled his eyes “I will, you eager woman, but I’m tired and sore. I say we rest for a while.” The sun had begun peeping out from the clouds and its warm kiss tinted Aoife’s face of a dark pink; she took of her shoes and settled her long skirt to cover her naked feet while she sat on the soft grass. She had dragged out from the stables two hay bales, for him to sit on, and was now waiting patiently for him to answer her questions. Knowing exactly, and enjoying greatly, the effect his secrecy had on her, he took his time to get comfortable and enjoy the warm sun, a rarity in his lands. When he reopened his eyes and they got used to the light, he found her already staring at him, with her pretty, fresh face on her bent knees that she was hugging tightly. He smiled again, impressed to still be able to do it; he had tortured her enough and, as hard as it was for him to open up, she had treated him much better that he deserved and, for reason he could only associate with the attractiveness of that young peculiar woman, he was eager to guide her through the lighter path of his dark past. “There’s not much to tell, lady.” “It won’t take long, then.” He was playing with the wood stick and Aoife waited patiently while he collected his thoughts. “My father gave me Godiva.” he finally said, eyes fixed on the grass. “I was seventeen at the time, ready to leave for my first battle against the Danes. He gifted me his best horse because he was certain I would die in that battle and he wanted my last friend to be that majestic horse. I would never forget the surprise on his face when I returned home, alive on Godiva’s back. I left for battle many times after that and I returned each time. I’ve been a warrior for the past seven years and I am certain I’ll be a swordman for the rest of my life.” he patted his chest lightly “And this wound is nothing more than a misunderstanding between swordmen in the ale house down in the village. Warriors are proud people, especially when ale is involved.” he raised his eyes to look at Aoife “I’m sorry if you were expecting a compelling story, lady. My life is not worthy of songs.” She knew he was lying, or at least he was not telling the entire truth, no one would be that much secretive about such normal life. Also, she was just a nun, but she knew that no tenants could afford a horse like that, and she was quite offended he would think she was fool enough to believe his simplistic explanation. Yet, she accepted what he was giving her, hoping that time would also heal his wary soul. “Thank you for talking to me.” He looked up to her, astonished “You’re a peculiar creature, lady.”

“Aoife.” “Pardon?” She shrugged timidly “You keep calling me lady, but I am not. Just call me Aoife.” He tilted his head, in a caricature of a bow “Well then, Aoife. It was a pleasure to walk with you.” “I do not trust him, Sister.” The Abbess was standing at the window of her room, watching, if not spying, young Aoife and that ungodly man. Even from distance, she could see that their hands were brushing against each other. Months had passed since his wound had completely healed, but he had asked permission to extend his stay. “I need God’s forgiveness, Mother” he had said, and the Abbess was in no position to refuse, but she knew, without the slightest doubt, that his soul’s redemption was not the reason of his stay. “I’m not blind, Aeskel, nor a fool. They think they’re outwitting us with their sneaking around during the night, but I’ve seen them.” She turned around, and looked Sister Aeskel with her sternest glance, the other nun nodded cautiously. “We’ve always known we couldn’t force her into becoming a nun; it is not the path God had planned for her.” she reached her Abbess and they watched in silence the shy lovers laugh under the sun of the hottest summer Mercia had experience in a long time. “I’m aware of that, Sister.” the Abbess then broke the silence “But she’s our responsibility and she won’t leave this Abbey with less than the most respectful and god fearing man she deserves.” Aeskel sighed sadly “I do not trust him, Mother.” she admitted “There is something under his perfect appearance that does not convince me.” “You’re freezing, my love.” Cenric’s hands run up and down Aoife’s arms, trying to warm her up; with the sweetest smile, she held his hand, stopping his frantic movement. “It is weird, isn’t it? How hot the days and cold the nights are here.” “You balance it, though.” He trapped a strand of her hair with his long fingers “Cold during the day, the warmest during the night.” In the holy house of God, their love was blossoming like the most beautiful, strongest rose in England; every step was new for Aoife and she had blindly entrusted her soul and heart to his experienced hands. She knew he had known other women, in deeper ways that she had allowed him to know her, but she preferred not to wandered too much around those thoughts, knowing way too well that she could not compare to the beauty and wit of women outside that Church. “You’re insulting yourself, Aoife.” Finan interrupted her again sternly, squeezing her hand “I’ve known my fair number of women…” “Not interested to know those stories…” “Let me finish” he scowled her and she silenced, and his harsh features softened in the tiniest smile “I’ve known my fair number of women and your beauty exceeds every man’s desire.” he tapped her temple with two fingers “And your more brilliant than any man, king, priest or warrior, I’ve ever met.” he patted her blushing cheek sweetly “There’s still work to do on your innocence, though. But we’ll get there.” he smirked smugly “Go on with your story.” “You know why I am distant in front of the nuns, Cenric. If the Abbess find out what is going on between us, she will separate us forever.” she caressed his cheek, and his stubble tickled the palm of her hand “She has the power to do so.” “Then come with me!” he exclaimed fiercely, gripping her hair tightly “We shall escape this miserable place and ride back to Wessex, where we could get married.” he embraced her hips, pulling her body against his “And birth children.” “This miserable place is my house.” she protested lightly, yet she could not hide how torn she was. “Do you love me, Aoife?” he whispered on her lips. She did, how can she not love the man, who held her with passion and promised her the freedom and family she had ever longed? And yet again, how could love be such a selfish feeling, was she in love with him or was she tricking herself into believing she did, only because he was the key to the life she had always aspired? Her response to his offer would change forever her path, and she should have reflected more than she actually did. But she was young and hastier that she would have like to admit. So she kissed him, with such force to make him stumble backwards, and whispered “I will come with you.”

“I’m in love, Sister.” Aeskel looked up from the herbarium “Are you now?” “I am.” “You’re just a child, dear.” “Girls younger than me have already birthed children!” The nun stopped what she was doing and sat on a chair “Come, child.” she patted her knees and Aoife chuckled lightly but followed her silent order and sat on them, careful not to hurt the nun. Years had passed since the last time she had been in that position, yet wrapping her arms around the nun’s shoulders felt natural and familiar. Time was leaving its mark on her face, but, behind the deep wrinkles and the patches on her skin, she still was a beautiful woman, with big doe eyes and a pretty nose. “Listen to me, baby.” the woman said, caressing Aoife’s back and hair “Cenric is a good person, but you’ve known him for less than a butterfly’s life.” Aoife’s looked up to heaven, trying not to cry. She knew she was stubborn, and it was too late for the Sister to try and change her mind, she was to leave with Cenric. And yet, her heart was breaking in a million pieces, because escaping that place also meant leaving behind the only family she had ever had. “I cannot explain my heart, Sister. I wish I knew the words to describe such a deep feeling.” She kissed the nun on her forehead “But I leave this place with a burden on my soul.” Aeskel stiffened “Are you to leave?” The girl smiled and stood up “I will forever cherish our time together, Sister.” and left. She had packed her bags too soon. Cenric had instructed her to meet him at the stables, when the moon was at its highest spot in the sky. At dinner, she had excused herself early, as the emotions swirling in her stomach would not let her eat, and at the last lights of sunset she had already packed her few belongings. Surrounded by the silence of the dark, she had watched her feet scrape the wooden floor and waited, long enough for fear to overcome excitement. Luckily, when she was about to reconsider her choice, the moon touched the top of the dome of the sky, and she left, with her light sack and heavy heart. When she reached the stables, the cold had already pierced through her mantle and into her bones and she gladly welcome the warm of the horse’ breath. “Hello my love.” she greeted Godiva, patting her on the neck, “Are you eager to leave?” The horse neighed and pushed against her hand; Aoife grew fonder of Godiva every day and the animal too seemed to prefer her attention to those of everyone else. And so she waited her lover, patting his horse and listening to her heartbeats and the noises of the animals in the night. At some point, she slipped down to the floor and, when the first lights of the day brighten the stables, she was still laying there. No sign of Cenric. “That’s it? He was just gone?” Aoife smiled sorely “Just like fog. Nobody saw him leave or had the guts to tell me that he did, but he was gone.” she chuckled bitterly “The coward took his time to go to my room and leave his weapons as a gift. How generous of him, right?” “I really don’t know how I should answer to that, Aoife.” “You shall not.” she brought her hands to the fire, grazing the flames with the tips of her fingers. “Did you love him, Aoife?” Finan asked, before realizing that he didn’t want to know the answer and the more she thought about it, the more he wanted to pretend like he had not asked anything. She noticed his discomfort and put a hand on his face; her skin was hot and welcoming, and he relaxed under her touch. “Don’t take my silence as uncertainty, Finan. It’s hard for me to interpret my feelings at times, but I’m sure about this. He was handsome and I desired him, but I know now that love is something deeper, it is longing a body as much as a soul and a heart and a mind. I craved his body and the freedom he promised me, but when I closed my eyes and pictured a family and a happy life, he wasn’t part of it.” she shrugged, unsure “Sometimes I wonder where I would be now if he hadn’t left.” “Well, we’ll never know. And I’m glad about that.” Finan smirked smugly, then the sound of footsteps made him turn around. Two companions were approaching to replace them on guard duty. Finan patted Aoife on her back “Come on. Time to sleep.” “Thank God, I’m freezing.” she stretched her limbs and got closer to her friend, to enjoy the warmth of his body until they reached the tents. She hit his hip with hers “Thank you for listening.” He wrapped her shoulders with his strong arm “I have to say, I preferred you when you were quiet, you blabber wee thing.”

“Oy!”

[goldeneyedgirl]

2020 Fic Meme

It happens every year like clockwork. The Fic Round-Up Meme. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to it this year because I’ve written so much. As usual, compiled from ancient Livejournal fic memes. I like doing it as kind of a time capsule of my writing. If anyone else wants to take a crack, feel free. I love reading writers’ throughs on their own work. <3 No tagging because that is PRESSURE. 

Twilight

12 Days of Fic-Mas (Twilight, WIP) Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 + Christmas Eve Twelve days of fic extracts, previews, and drabbles focusing on Alice Cullen and Jess/Jasper Hale: Anathema, the KidFic, Married in Vegas, Daemons, Memento Vivere, Human Alice Kills James, Jess and Alice do Prom, Forgotten, Vampires in Vegas, Shadow to Light Missing Scene, Hybrid, Cowboys and Angel Solstice, and All These Broken Things

Afterglow (Alice/Jasper, AU, Romance, G)  There were three things of which she was certain. The first was that her name was Alice. The second was that she was born an angel. And three, she was getting ready to die.

Against a Wall (Alice/Jasper, Human/Vampire AU, Romance, Angst, PG) If you asked anyone with the surname ‘Whitlock’, they’d tell you that the family was cursed. It was the Whitlock Curse to blame the day the bank took the ranch away from Jasper’s own father.      

And Found (Alice/Jasper, Soulmark AU, Romance, PG) The soul mark appears when Alice is six. It is a twisted ribbon of a mark, from the inside of her left elbow, up her arm, over her shoulder, along her clavicle, over her right shoulder and down to her right wrist. What ugly, soulless individual could inspire such a mark?

Jar of Hearts Pt 1 Pt 2 (WIP) (Alice, Emmett, Seth, MCU xover, Angst, PG) The snap came for everyone - “He said he’d never leave me,” she says in a wobbly voice. “He promised me.”“It wasn’t by choice,” Emmett rushes to tell her. “You were his last thought; he tried so hard to get home before he…”

Never a Question (Alice/Jasper, AU, Angst, G)  Carlisle is quite sure that he’s watching his son’s heart break into a million pieces as he stares at his human mate, slowly dying alone, not a single person allowed to hold her hand.

Hand in Hand (Alice/Jasper, AU, Fluff, G)  “Never,” he swears, pressing a kiss to her cheek that makes her beam -  “There’s not a single moment I can think of that cannot be improved by your presence, darlin’.”

Love & Duty (Alice/Jasper, AU, Romance, G)  A trainee witch is sent to treat a wounded cowboy from her brother coven. 

Shadow to Light (WIP) (Alice/Jasper, AU Angst, PG) In 1918, Jasper lures the newborn known as Mary-Alice back to Monterrey. He is lost to her before it even begins. (Ch 6-8)

The Way of Things (Alice/Jasper, AU, Drama, M)  She truly doesn’t know what comes next. He truly doesn’t know if it will be good or bad. They will live this life for as long as it lasts, long may it last, surrounded by the people they love and trust. 

What You Say (Alice/Jessamine, Canon, Angst, M)  Edward might have thought Aro was their reckoning, but Alice knows for her, it is Jessamine’s hurt.

Total number of completed stories: ELEVEN. 

Total word count: 90,155 words were formally posted - not including snippets, previews (aside from FicMas) or anything that was shared on the Discord server. 

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted? I fucking nailed it. Like, seriously. THREE chapters of Shadow to Light? Every single day of JaliceWeek AND FicMas? I mean, I think the lockdown definitely helped with free time, and not going to lie, the iOS shutdown of Fortnite probably assisted my productivity. 

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? The Discord has so much to answer for. I wrote porn. Like, what. What. What. What. I find this bizarre and did not have ‘let’s just go full NC17 in 2020′ on my bingo card, but it happened. In fact, 2019 Lexie has just gone full spit-take and yelled, “WHAT?!” at the top of her lungs. 

And to make it more surprising, it’s both het and f/f porn. Like, mind-blown. Who am I anymore?

What’s your own favourite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest? The Way of Things, What You Say, And Found, & Afterglow. All fics that came together really well, that felt like *me*, and had hopeful endings. I’m really proud of them. 

STL doesn’t get an opportunity to be apart of this til it’s finished. 

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them? The porn. 

Apparently, I can write it. Who knew? 

I definitely threw caution to the wind with JaliceWeek and just went for whatever crossed my mind and stopped worrying so much. Like, whatever, this is what I want to write so I will. I mean, the MCU crossover is happening in a slightly more obscure way than I initially envisaged it, it’s definitely a better fic for it.

I joined the Discord, and that’s been amazing. I’ve spent my last few fandoms existing in kind of a vacuum because of bad experiences and the fact I’m usually doing something niche, so having people to talk to who are so nice and welcoming and are happy to ignore my special brand of obnoxiousness is so lovely and has had such a good affect on my mental health. Sometimes you need people you can be your dorkiest self with. 

My instincts are pretty good as far as fic goes, people are awesome, and I can write sex scenes. It’s been a learning curve, let me tell you that. 

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year?  I have to balance grad school, my business, and my writing, so that’s going to be interesting. I think I need to look at my fic more as downtime than a high-stress ‘job’ because I LOVE writing it. I love writing. I love reading. But I get in my own head and overthink. So my goals are BALANCE and RELAX. 

My best story of this year: Oh man, that’s not something I can judge. I am so incredibly proud of how Afterglow, And Found, and The Way of Things turned out. Especially considering I was so behind with JaliceWeek, and I think I was putting out a fic a day, and freaking out because I was lacking ideas, so when these three just came together exactly how I wanted them, it was a good moment. 

My most popular story: Shadow to Light. Look, if that’s my legacy to fandom, I’ve done pretty damn well. I’m really, really appreciative of how enthusiastic people are about this ‘verse. I don’t always understand it, because I can see how my writing has changed and how the story has evolved massively (first it was supposed to be a one-shot, then five chapters.) I hope that it ends up being satisfying for everyone because I have LOVED writing it, even if I am slower than molasses. 

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: Everyone is always so damn enthusiastic about my writing. I think maybe Hybrid is kind of a big question mark for everyone at the moment because there are so many questions and no answers yet. 

And any of the Jessamine/Alice. That’s a new niche, I get not everyone is into it. But it’s happening and will continue into 2020.

Most fun story to write:  What You Say or Jess and Alice at Prom. Jess is a little snarkier than Jasper, less controlled, and the girls are super fun to write, even high-tension scenes. 

Most Sexy Story: Oh, I can answer this now! Um, maybe The Way of Things or Jess and Alice at Prom? Yup, those are my picks. 

Story with the single sexiest moment:  The Way of Things. This happened before the Discord Intervention, and I’m genuinely not sure if I’m happy with the end of the Prom fic, so it might be reworked slightly in the future. But The Way of Things I was really happy with because it covered so many ideas I had in a way that fit together well. 

That’s where she makes good on her unspoken promises from aeons again, of their private victory celebration. She sits astride him, her hips rolling hard against his, drawing out his groans and growls as he grips her thighs almost tight enough to crack. Their gazes are locked the entire time, her tongue skimming over her lips, as she lets her emotions tell him everything that she wants and everything she plans to take.

He remembers fucking her in the dirt in Dacia; his mouth between her legs as she hollered obscenities in a Paris attic; and the urgent, passionate loving-making of a marriage finally consummated.

She remembers bloody emeralds looped around her throat and resting between her breasts as she gets down on her knees and takes him into her mouth, his fingers tangled in her hair; the delicious weight of him on top of her, their sweat mingling and cooling in the frozen night as their flimsy bed creaked against the wall; and his soft encouragement in her ear as he grasps her around the waist, their hands resting together on the gentle swell of her stomach. 

Most “holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story: I think I restrained myself from anything too dark or twisted this year, actually. Oh, wait, Vampires in Vegas. That one has some pretty dark implications about Alice’s life, about the vampire underworld, and Jasper’s behaviour, especially as it goes one. No fic that deals with someone being put into sex work without educated consent is going to avoid being dark, and I think it’s logical that vampires would have their hands in a lot of illegal yet profitable areas. 

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: Anything with Jessamine/Alice because, like, Jess isn’t a name-swap of Jasper, and the relationship dynamic shifts with the slight personality shifts. And then you have to consider the family and social dynamic of two women in the relationship, so working all that out was fun. 

Jar of Hearts is another one, because I had to work out who the fic was going to follow and what was lost. And Emmett and Alice pretty much don’t interact in canon, but they were chosen for a reason. I’ve stripped them down to their worst, most isolated selves without their ‘true north’ (Rose and Jasper) or their moral center (Carlisle and Esme), or even their secret weapon (Edward). Seth, too, has been isolated from his family and friends, and is especially ‘other’ in this situation. This is an MCU crossover, so we’re kind of following a heroes’ journey with the last of Forks’ supernatural creatures.

Hardest story to write: Shadow to Light because of the way I have to use language, because of the plot strands from canon when I hate writing canon material, and how the characters have changed and how this new version reflects the old version. 

Against a Wall, as well, because of the in-verse time crunch I had - I needed Jasper damaged, military-minded, and changed by age 19. And I needed the boy broken. I’m happy with it, the story is done and dusted, but it didn’t quite turn out how I planned. And that’s okay, because I like this version. But I think I tackled something a lot bigger than I anticipated with it. 

Most disappointing:  Look, I love the verse and the set-up, but I think Love & Duty could do with another 2k words for build-up. I just ran out of time, honestly, to build up that mutual attraction between Alice and Jasper. 

Easiest story to write: Anathema, because Alice’s voice was so clear in it. Anathema!Alice knows exactly who she is, and that’s always fun. And the Shadow to Light Missing Scene; it wasn’t as long as I hoped, but it turned out exactly as I imagined it happening. 

Biggest surprise:  Everyone really, really liked Forgotten. And Vampires in Vegas, which I honestly thought were the weakest offerings during FicMas. 

Most unintentionally telling story:  The Way of Things. There’s so little dialogue, and it’s covering such a massive amount of time and story that it’s intentionally written to tell. 

Story I’d like to revise: Love & Duty, and Married in Vegas. A little polish, a little shine, it’s fine. For Love & Duty, it’s definitely the time crunch I need to go back and fix; for Married in Vegas, it’s just reflective of how long ago I started it. I’m a better writer, I know the characters more, and I’m less prone to overly dramatic plot twists. 

Story I didn’t write but will at some point, I swear: Look, let me lay the groundwork now so that no one who isn’t on the Discord isn’t startled. 

There’s going to be a Jess/Jasper/Alice threesome fic, and I regret nothing. 

I really, really want to get All These Broken Things redone and posted because it’s getting silly how long it’s just been sitting there. 

I want to actually write Monster, which is a fic I don’t talk about much but I want to write. It’s a question about who the monster of the story is, and I’m not sure I’m as skilled as I should be, to write it, but I want to try. 

And one of my numerous attempts at a Haunted House Cryptid fic. It has to happen, I have so many ideas!

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 21/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: A confrontation between friends, and a fireside chat.

Notes: For my August Writer's Month prompt #3: I couldn't sleep. I hope this makes up for the way the previous chapter ended. Here there be the start of FEELINGS.

[AO3]

“You’re grumpy.”

Gold glared at Jefferson over the edge of his book. “I am not.”

Jefferson let out a soft snort and shook his head as he moved into the room. Gold was sitting in one of the high back chairs in front of the fireplace, his right foot propped up on a short footstool.

“You are,” Jefferson said. “And you’ve no right to be.”

Gold lowered his book to his lap and openly scowled. “You are fortunate that you are not just my steward but also my only friend.”

Jefferson laughed and took the chair opposite Gold, arranging himself rather haphazardly, with one leg slung over the arm as he lounged across it. His action drew another look from Gold, as he’d designed it to do. He had decided that Cameron Gold needed to be needled a little given his petulant behavior yesterday.

“I’m not your only friend,” he said. “You have Belle too.”

Gold sighed. “I suppose.”

After he saw Belle and Jefferson together, he’d gone off to find Astrid, intent on finding out what had shocked her so that she’d hurried off without even looking where she was going. He found her in the kitchens a few minutes later, and she admitted everything to him. He had to admit he’d been surprised as well, and immediately stormed off to his room to think on the matter.

Belle had kissed Jefferson.

Of course to Astrid this was an event imbued with some great importance and intent, but once he’d had a chance to question the maid again, she gave him further information which dispelled all that. It had been a simple kiss on the cheek, one friend to another, and he was certain it was meant as nothing more than a moment of care and understanding. Yet it had bothered him nonetheless, and he had ruminated over it for the last day or so, eschewing last night’s supper and this morning’s breakfast with the rest of the household in favor of eating alone in his study. He knew he couldn’t avoid Belle forever, nor did he want to, but his immediate reaction to the incident unsettled him.

Belle and Jefferson becoming friends was hardly astonishing. They were both kind, outgoing people with mutual interests and dispositions. It was only natural they should gravitate towards each other. Yet Gold had felt the oddest pang at the thought of there being more between them. The notion that his wife, though their marriage was strictly a legal and financial arrangement, not anything romantic or familial, would favor another over him, that she might care for another, had left him disconcerted.

He thought that he and Belle had bonded while in Avonlea, and started to build a kind of partnership in the running of the estate in addition to their burgeoning friendship. While that was still a possibility, it seemed she was already far closer with Jefferson than he had understood, enough that she had confided in him regarding her relationship with Gaston. Perhaps it was that fact that disturbed him? A confession of something held so close that even her own father didn’t know the whole of it, belied an intimacy and trust that Gold only now realized he envied.

Jefferson huffed and sat up, putting his feet on the floor and facing Gold. “You’re an idiot.”

Gold was shaking from his thoughts and frowned. “Am I?” The other man’s look conveyed everything, and he closed the book and set it aside. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“It’s not her fault.”

“I - I never said it was, did I?” he asked, slipping his foot from the small ottoman and leaning forward. “And what are you talking about anyway?”

Jefferson shook his head. Things had clearly not improved with his mood since last night when they had discussed the particulars of what transpired between Belle and Gaston. “Belle," he replied. "Telling me about Gaston is not her fault, and it’s not some slight on you.”

“I never said it was!” Gold pulled a face and pushed to his feet, pacing across the rug. “She can tell whomever she likes whatever she likes. It is of no consequence to me.”

“Right.” Jefferson waited for Gold to reach the end of his short walk and turn around before fixing him with a look. “It’s clearly not bothering you at all, that’s why you’ve acted like a child and flounced off to your room for a whole day.”

“I did not flounce,” he snapped, clearly affronted.

Jefferson hummed and rolled his eyes to the side. “All I did was ask her, you know. Just asked her what happened. She wanted to talk about it.”

Gold looked away, his response muttered under his breath, but still loud enough for his friend to hear. “To you perhaps.”

“To you as well!” Jefferson stood and crossed the space, forcing Gold to look at him. “But you don’t ask. You never do.”

“Yes, well,” he said softly. “Not everyone is an open book like you.”

“Neither is Belle.” Jefferson reached for Gold, and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “She lost her mother, nearly lost her home, and then this - this incident with Gaston... “

Gold turned, shrugging off Jefferson’s touch, and faced him. “What would you have me do? She said she trusted me, and then she tells you instead.”

He huffed and walked over to the window, sighing at the cool draft against his skin.

“You’re jealous.”

He scowled over his shoulder. “Hardly.”

Jefferson flashed his teeth. “Oh, you are, my friend. You like her.”

“Jefferson...” he warned.

He felt a hand on his shoulder again as Jefferson leaned in close.

“She might like you too if you just tried a little harder.”

Gold scoffed and folded his arms, gazing out the window at the winter landscape that his gardens had become. When he exhaled, his breath created a circle of fog on the glass, that faded a moment later. “We both know I’m a difficult man to love.”

“Only because you make yourself so.” Gold huffed again, and Jefferson’s head cocked to the side. Then he suddenly leaned in and planted a firm, wet kiss on Gold’s cheek.

Gold exclaimed and raised his arm, pushing his friend back to peels of laughter, and then wiped his face roughly with his palm. He shot a glare at Jefferson and then shook his head. “Get out.”

Jefferson grinned, still chuckling to himself. “Only if you promise to talk to Belle.”

“Yes, yes,” he replied, waving the other man off.

He doubted very much that Belle could ever care for him in that way, even if he determined his own feelings were heading in that direction. But that was something he could not allow; it would only complicate matters and possibly derail some of his plans altogether. He wanted a friendship with Belle, nothing more, though he’d been prepared at the outset for her to reject any interaction with him beyond what was necessary for Baeden. Emotional entanglement had been an outside risk in marrying again, one he’d chosen to ignore because of the unlikeliness of such a situation ever occurring.

Then he’d heard about the state Avonlea was in, and about Lady Belle’s abruptly broken engagement. He knew there had to be some kind of secret there, another risk he’d been willing to take for the sake of his son. Tomorrow, he would go down to breakfast and invite Belle to review Avonlea’s ledgers with him again, to get a sense of what she thought might be best. If she agreed, he would use the opportunity to broach the subject of Gaston with her, and perhaps it would set his mind to rights.

The door closed softly as Jefferson left the study, but Gold didn’t move from his spot by the window for some time.

Belle leaned her forehead against the cold glass, the frost at the corners prickling her skin, and sighed.

It was the first heavy snow of winter, with a wind that blew the fat, wet flakes at a sharp angle, illuminated by the light from the oil lamps that lined the edge of the walkways out into the garden, and sparkling. In the morning, one side of the trees would be frozen, coated in ice and bent in the direction of the storm, their branches dipping almost to the ground by the weight of the snow.

Tomorrow was the Solstice, the longest, darkest day of the year. In the evening, the cities, towns, and villages all over the kingdom, and beyond, would celebrate with festivals beginning at sundown. She had loved the grand galas that her mother would throw at Avonlea, the smell of pine and spice wafting through the manor in the days leading up to the feast. Every noble from the surrounding area was invited, and there would be hours of dancing and drinking and eating. Many times she went to bed before it was even half over, the faint sounds of strings and laughter drifting into her dreams.

She wondered what it would be like here at Thornhill. There were few other nobility this far north, and only two small villages. Much of the land Gold owned was for farming and raising sheep rather than renting to wealthy merchants. She supposed it was one reason why it thrived even in the lean times, whereas other estates like Avonlea, that rented parcels to wealthy families to build their own, smaller estates, and only as much for farming as was needed, struggled to get by.

The celebration tomorrow, if there was one, would likely be a much smaller affair than she was used to, but she thought that this year it would suit her to keep things more subdued. The strife of the last few months had worn on her, and she didn’t feel very celebratory. Perhaps there could be some dancing though, if she could persuade Jefferson to play something. The thought made her smile.

Jefferson had become a dear friend to her in a short time. Telling him some of what happened with Gaston had made her feel immeasurably better, though what happened after seemed to leave them both uncomfortable. Astrid meant well, Belle was sure, but the woman could be so excitable, and often confused things when she was in that state. Whatever the maid had said to Gold upset him enough that he avoided both Jefferson and her for the rest of the evening. He even took breakfast in his room, which in turn upset Bae.

It had been a long day, but after nearly an hour of trying and failing to fall asleep, she’d climbed out of bed and brought her book to the window seat in her library. Nestled there with a thick afghan and wool socks, she couldn’t get cozy enough to rest, and besides that her mind seemed intent on being unsettled. It would probably remain so until she could sort out things with Gold.

She trusted him enough to tell him more of what occurred with Gaston, more than she’d told Jefferson, but she was uncertain of how he might take it. Jefferson believed that Gaston had tried to hurt her, and felt her actions were more than justified, but she knew not everyone would agree. She didn’t know which side Gold would choose, and worried that his more exacting nature might override his good will towards her.

Frustrated and chilled, Belle closed her book, and climbed down from the seat. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and let it trail behind her like a long cloak as she made her way downstairs to the main library room, hoping to find a warmer, cozier place to read until she felt tired enough to sleep.

The library doors were closed for the evening, but she eased one of the open and slipped quietly inside. Turning around, she stopped and held the afghan closer, pressing her book against her chest. Gold was sitting by the fire in one of the large leather chairs, a book folded open on his knee as he stared into the fire.

She shuffled forward, but when he didn’t move or acknowledge her presence she let out a small cough. He startled at that and twisted in the chair. The fire and two candelabras were the only light in the room, but she could see his eyes were dark and wide with surprise.

“Belle,” he said softly.

A shiver went down her spine, and she held the blanket tight to her body.

“What are you doing up at this hour?” he managed, trying not to consider the fact that she was in her nightgown and stockings, covered in nothing but a knit blanket.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “You?”

He shrugged. “The same, but that’s nothing new.” Then he gestured to the other chair, and she spied a small glass in his hand, a dark liquid swirling about and catching the shine of the fire. “Would you care to join me for a late night drink, and a stare into the fire until we uncover the secrets of life?”

His tone was playful and soft, and she laughed lightly. “Yes, thank you.”

She set her book on the small table between them, and eased herself into the seat, adjusting the afghan so it was folded over her lap and wrapped around to keep her arms covered. To do so she had to expose the front part of her nightgown where it laced up over her chest, but she was near enough to the fire that she didn’t feel a chill.

Gold rose and crossed to a small cart set to one side of the fireplace and poured her a glass of brandy from a crystal decanter. She watched as he moved, taking in his unusual appearance. He was wearing one of his ivory shirts, but without a waistcoat or ascot, and wearing a comfortable pair of slippers instead of his usual high laced boots. She had never seen him in so few layers of clothing. It made the moment feel more intimate than it should.

When he turned around, drink in hand, she noticed that not only had he gone without his usual neckwear, but he’d also undone the top of his shirt, letting the laces hang down the front. It was only just untied, and there was little beyond a sliver of skin showing, but she caught herself staring all the same.

Gold met her gaze as he bent to hand her the glass. His eyes looked so warm, the glow of the fire reflecting in them, and she held back another shiver as she took the drink from him. He moved to sit, and she hastily took a sip of the brandy, humming as the heat trailed down her throat.

“Good?” he asked quietly.

She nodded and lowered the glass to her lap. “Perfect.”

He flashed her a small smile, and sat back against the chair, sipping from his own drink. A few minutes ago, he’d nearly gathered himself up and forced himself to go to bed, but now he was content to stay as long as Belle in the hopes that he might have a chance to gage her thoughts on yesterday’s misunderstanding.

She was wearing a pale blue nightgown with long sleeves that laced up the front. It was a struggle to keep his eyes from taking her in, but he focused them on the dancing flames in the hearth. He had seen her in a similar state barely a week and two days ago in Avonlea, after he’d hauled her in from the snow. When he returned to her room she was fresh out of her bath, her skin pink from the heat of the water, which looked far better on her than the sickly pale from being wet through and nearly frozen.

It was the first time he’d allowed himself to acknowledge her beauty, though he’d been struck by it the moment he first saw her, standing under the arbor in the garden before she came down the aisle to marry him. Such a moment it had been. He felt as though he’d gaped at her the whole way, and considered it a miracle that he managed not to blunder any of his lines. But seeing her like this, in the late hours of the evening, padding around his house in her warmest stockings, with an afghan he’d knitted himself so many years ago - it pulled at something in him. He tried to push the feeling down, but it wouldn’t relent, warming him from the inside better than the brandy.

“So,” Belle said after a time. “Have you discerned anything yet?”

Gold’s lips curved slightly as he lifted his glass. “Nothing. You?”

She sighed. “The same, I’m afraid. Perhaps the universe does not wish to reveal its wonders to us just yet.”

He let out a sound of agreement and swallowed the drink in his mouth.

“I want you to know,” she said, “that what happened with Jefferson was not what it seemed.”

He frowned. “I didn’t think it seemed like anything.”

She looked at him sideways, and sipped carefully at her drink. “You haven’t been avoiding me because of it?”

“No,” he replied. It wasn’t a lie. He’d been avoiding her because of himself, though how to say that properly was lost on him. “It - it wasn’t anything you did. You have every right to whatever affection you may have for Jefferson.”

“It’s not like that,” she said. “He’s a good friend, that is all.”

Gold waved a hand and set his glass on the table. “No matter. You should feel free to do as you wish. It isn’t as if I have any sort of claim on you.”

Belle’s mouth opened and then closed as she idly turned the drink in her hand. What he said wasn’t entirely true. She did have an affection for Jefferson, but it was as nothing more than a good friend. She was sure it was the same for Jefferson as well, but she had come to realize that there was now a place in her heart for Bae as well as Gold.

“Did Jefferson tell you -?”

“What you told him?” he asked, shifting in his chair to look at her more directly. “Yes, he did.”

She nodded and looked down at the last little puddle of brandy in her glass. Jefferson had sworn himself to the strictest secrecy, but she assured him that there was no need for that with Gold. She wanted him to know as well. “Good.”

“I’ll remember never to anger you,” he added, smiling. “Wouldn’t want to be on the wrong end of things.”

When she looked over at him, he winked at her, and she let out a soft, snorting laugh. The brandy had loosened her tongue and his, and they shared a grin and a chuckle at Gaston’s expense. She felt lighter again, the same as after she had confessed to Jefferson, and now she knew that Cameron did not hold anything against her.

She tossed back the last of her drink and set the glass aside, surprised and how her mind had suddenly shifted from thinking of him as Gold to thinking of him more familiarly. It was as if the distance he had put between them had meant a loss of the friendly intimacy they had established. Now that things seemed resolved, she had shifted easily to reclaim it and in doing also found her comfort again. Her body felt more relaxed and warm, and she felt that perhaps now she might be able to sleep, but there was something about this moment that she was loathe to end.

“I’m sure you won’t be,” she said finally.

He scoffed quietly and leaned his head back. “Oh, I wouldn't count on it. I can be - difficult.”

“You don’t say,” she replied flatly.

Immediately Gold twisted in his seat to stare at her open mouthed and wide eyed. She pressed her lips together even as her mouth started to curve, and after a few seconds, they both laughed.

Belle knew she was definitely tired enough to rest, and slowly pushed to her feet. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

He looked up at her, and once again she caught the flash of the fire in his dark eyes, and felt an odd tightness in her throat. “For - for the drink,” she answered, reaching for his hand where it rested on the arm of the chair. “And - and for other things.”

She wrapped her hand over his and held it at her side, his knuckles brushing against the soft yarn of the blanket where it hung loose around her legs. He gave her a light squeeze and brushed his thumb over the bump on the outside of her wrist.

“Are you -” He started and then stopped, clearing his throat roughly and swallowing against the lump that had formed there. “Are you happy here, Belle?”

He met her eyes, and for a brief second, he thought he might have almost unlocked one of the secrets they had joked about before, as though the universe might lay itself bare in her gaze if only he was brave enough to look at it. Shaking his head, he looked away and made to pull his hand back, but she gripped it harder, tugging to make him look at her again.

“I’m not - unhappy,” she said, smiling. “And you?”

“The same.” Then he shook his head again and pulled her hand to him, pressing a kiss to the back of it as had become his habit. “Good night, Belle.”

On a whim, she bent down, catching herself with her free hand on the arm of his chair and kissed his cheek. Her body angled over his, nightgown brushing his clothes, and her lips touched just to the right of his mouth, lingering a moment before she straightened. “Good night, Cameron.”

It was another hour before Gold went to bed.

[midnight-marimba]

Mar’s DQXI Fic OCs

It’s Dragon Quest OC And NPC Week, and I’m going to approach it from the other direction than what’s described in the event proposal, because I rarely end up inventing a detailed character without context, but I often find a specific need for a character in a piece of fanfiction and build them up out of that prompt into something better than a footnote. So I’m going to take the opportunity to talk about some of my fics and the original characters and NPCs who wandered into them and made themselves interesting enough that I’m eager to share a little extra detail or commentary about them.  (Under the cut)

Hair Tie That Binds

A comedic story about Hendrik recruiting Erik for a heist to help fix his own mistake. (9k words)

I needed a minor villain, so I invented Lady Druzy (named off of an obscure corner of a gem list, so as to suit a minor Heliodoran noble).  She is petty, spiteful, vengeful, and apparently my favorite archetype of OC to write.  She is awful and I loved writing her.

After Rain, The Sun Will Shine

A Sylv/Hendrik one-shot involving Hendrik’s memories of Sylv’s mother. (8k words)

When I wrote this, I had not yet heard the detail from the voice drama (please somebody translate the whole thing?? <3) that Sylv's mom's given name was Gerbera and her stage name was Sylvia (that is, exactly the same stage name Sylv took in the Japanese version of the game).  I had only heard a broader rumor about the drama and Sylv choosing a stage name in honor of their mother.

So when I went to write a story about her, I looked at a list of Dutch names (to match Arnout and Hendrik — Zwaardsrust is Dutch) and hunted for one a name with a "Syl" sound.  I landed on Silke, which is also satisfying from a word association perspective (since it looks like "silk" which sounds highly appropriate for a "famous Zwaardsrustian beauty" — one of the few canon details we get for her).

I tried to make her stubborn and determined, inspiring and willfully optimistic for the sake of the people she had under her leadership.  Sylv-like, but with a slightly more intense philosophical flavor than canon Sylv, as she’s walking out of an arguably even greater tragedy (or at least more personal at a larger scale?)

Silk and Swagger

Faris/Reader, from the point of view of a Heliodor guard. (1.7k words)

The guard is nameless and the fic is relatively short, but my goodness it was fun inventing someone who is instantly smitten with Faris and believes the best of him at all times.

When Home Isn't Marked on the Map

A Sylv/Erik longfic set a couple years after the end of the game, in which Erik is coming out of a period of self-imposed isolation after a disastrous attempt at confessing his one-sided romantic feelings for the Luminary, and he begins by going looking for Sylv, the one old companion he dares hope won’t yell at him for his absence.  (74k words)

Since the ultimate seed of the idea behind this fic was "Erik would be protective towards orphans and Sylv would like that about him" I needed some kids to put in the story.  There are two sets of four that I named and included. 

First is the group from the rural area near Puerto Valor, and thus they have Spanish names: Isabella, Serafito, Paz, Ana.  I'm pretty sure I named the younger ones with shorter names to help myself keep them straight.  In my head, they have a darker complexion than the rest of the kids in the story, since I always wish the DQ world was a little more diverse on that front, but I fear that I forgot to actually write that detail in.  (Room for improvement...)

The second group is an expansion of the four child NPCs you can find playing hide-and-seek in downtown Heliodor.  I could only find a canon name for Cammo (the King of Hide-and-Seek) so I gave the rest of them stone related names, figuring the pattern from Cobblestone might extend around Heliodor into the poorer and less formal areas of the kingdom (Ruby the innkeeper notwithstanding). So they are Flint, Crystal, and Mica.

There are so many of them that it was tough to give all of them a lot of characterization, but I tried to distinguish each of them at least a little.  Isabella, the leader of her group, blunt in a way that reminds Erik of Mia and Veronica.  Serafito, a little bit of a self-sacrificing caretaker. Paz, young but outgoing, and Ana, even younger and a little shy.  Flint, the canny, cautious, and slightly manipulative leader of the Heliodor gang.  Cammo, sneaky and adventurous and clever.  Crystal, strong and brave and protective.  Mica unfortunately ended up being most notable for the ordeals he goes through.

My favorite among them ended up being Crystal, from the instant she decided she was after Hendrik's job.

Diamond

A Sylv/Serena and Sylv/Dave fic, from Serena’s point of view.  Set after Act 3 as Serena chooses a mission to research and perform healing around the world, travels alongside Sylv’s new circus troupe, and they both get to pursue some missing character development.  (118k words, technically 1 chapter short of an intended ending but may not be continued.)

Mind the tags and content advisory if you go into the fic itself, because (1) for reasons of 2020, a story about a doctor-hero was simply not an ideal story to begin in the year 2019, and (2) it is NOT a utopian style world — many characters have prejudices, others are closeted in some major ways, and not all of that is gone by the end of the story.  I 100% understand many folks not wanting to go roll around in that kind of fiction, and while there’s a discussion about Representation I could shoehorn in here, I’m going to set it aside for the sake of on-topic rambling about fun OC development.

For this fic, I wanted Sylv and Serena to be traveling the world together.  Serena was to be motivated in part by the allure of getting to meet more new people, and also, I think it’s useful for her personal growth to spend a little time away from her blood family and most of the people from whom she would naturally take direction.  I also wanted to explore Sylv as a leader in a way that’s not so easy within the canon party, and in general, I imagine Sylv both being friendly to every stranger and also having old friends pop up everywhere he goes.

Between the two of them, I ended up needing to plop in OC's left and right, both for Sylv’s new Act 3 circus troupe, and in every town they visited.  Because I’m a nerd, I expanded lore for some of the regions too, and I will mention some of those details here with the characters.

Sylv’s troupe:

Chill, a contortionist from Sniflheim, where people get kind of uncomfy about magic, especially when it looks too close to evil witchery.  Like, say, Zing.

Samir, a short, round bard from Gallopolis who can do amazing things with a variety of instruments, and his partner Grey, once a guard from Heliodor until he decided that job was even more bland than his name, and he ran off to Gallopolis to join the circus.

Maria and Mateo, a couple of quiet, short and slender dancers from Puerto Valor (in my head, Mateo is about 5 feet and Maria’s a couple inches shorter, though I keep gravitating away from talking in Modern Earth units of measurement when writing for this fandom).  Their kids, teenaged Leo and toddler Lena, aren’t (yet) performers, but are present because I thought it was interesting to plug some kids into a story about a traveling circus troupe, and because I wanted to give Sylv an excuse to interact with kids.

Francine. A classically beautiful acrobat from Octagonia, where the only work she could find was being a bunny girl handing out flyers.  She’s had a crush on Sylv, which didn’t work out, and in the aftermath she’s a little bitter and is predisposed to dislike anyone else getting too close to Sylv.  She is rude and spiteful when she does not like someone (though she may do so in an overly-sweet tone), and she awkwardly overcompensates when she wants to prove she’s moved on from something, and she ended up being my favorite OC here.

Some other notable OCs in the world:

In Sniflheim: Healer Heather, the doctor who would really rather not have any magic in her house, so she doesn’t get a mob coming after her next time the tide of public opinion turns against witches.

In Lonalulu: Nohea, the charming and handsome hula dancer who isn’t quite as nice as he seems, and Pika, the shy, plain, and clumsy but kind-hearted net weaver.  Both are there as potential love interests for Serena (and for contrast against Sylv, of course).

In the Inner Sea: Coral the mermaid, a singer.  She's here for advancing Serena's character development, but it was fun to have other OCs react to a mermaid, and trying to write plot-advancing mermaid dialogue raised my respect for the localization team 1000%.

In Gallopolis: Doctor Zel, who is very scientific and good at her job, never makes eye contact, and lacks a comforting bedside presence.  (Happily they have Faris to help with public relations during a health crisis…?)

This is only about half of the OCs and NPCs named in the story, but they’re most of the ones with the most screen time, and most of the ones that stand out in my mind.  But the outgoing and friendly Sylv and Serena I was trying to write, both of whom wanted to engage with the people of the world at large, just spawned new characters around them as they went.  You know those stories about mythical people where flowers bloom after them everywhere they go?  This pair was like that, only with OC’s instead of flowers.

[enviroblog-spring21]

Blog IX: Providence Lost a BIG Opportunity for Environmental Planning.

The number of living people on planet Earth reached one billion people in 1804, an unprecedented milestone after 200,000 years of our species’ ascendence. Although it took 200,000 years for the human population to reach one billion people, it took only 200 to reach seven billion. In 2009, humanity cleared yet another milestone, the number of people residing in cities exceeding those living in rural areas for the first time in human history.[1]Current population trends centuries in the making act in tandem with the current climate crisis, of which more humans than ever will be forced to deal with in the twenty-first century and beyond.

Chapter six of Living in the Environment heavily focuses on Earth’s carrying capacity–– i.e., the number of people that existing natural capital and ecosystem services can adequately support. Debate about the physical boundary to human growth has gone on for centuries. Notably, in 1798, Thomas Malthus hypothesized that exponential population growth coupled with comparably stagnant food production created a proverbial ceiling for the exponential population growth he identified. Of course, during Malthus’s time, industrial agriculture was somewhat of an oxymoron, he could have never predicted that food production too would also increase exponentially due to industrialized agriculture.

During my History of Capitalism, I was required to read Planet of Slums by Mike Davis. The book delineates an environmental history of what is perhaps the ultimate rejection of Malthus’ hypothesis: The Green Revolution. After World War II, philanthropic efforts on the part of the Ford Foundation and the Rockefeller foundation introduced industrial agriculture technologies such as pesticides, fertilizers, irrigation infrastructure, and high-yield crop variants to what they saw as destitute peasant populations, most notably in India, Mexico, and the Philippines. Although the intentions of the foundations were good, (although incredibly utilitarian in hindsight) what ensued was the disenfranchisement of peasants from their land, followed by the swelling of slums encircling cities such as Mumbai, Mexico City, and Manila, contributing the lion’s share of urban development globally. The Ford and Rockefeller foundations assumed that the peasants, needing not to grow their own food any longer, would live a metropolitan urban lifestyle as they enjoyed in the West.

Urban slum dwellers in the global South account for the majority of the world’s urban expansion. In summary: More people today are living in cities today but in the ever-expanding rings of slums within and surrounding cities. I can already see North American urban planners looking at global urban demographics and concluding that the pro-urban sentiment espoused by the authors of their dogma over the years has finally caught on, and people are ascending to a new urban rapture. Slum-dwellers, the vast majority of urban populations in the Global South, endure the most reprehensible environmental conditions in the world. The largest city in North America, Mexico City, has a dirty environmental secret that foreign visitors to places like Chapultepec Park seldom know. The city hoards several tons of feces in open-air garbage dumps, located next to or on top of the city’s slums. Slum-dwellers are known to scavenge dumps and landfills in hopes to find something of sustenance or utility, and particles of shit carry through the air often irritating the throat and lungs of people unfortunate enough to be in proximity to them. In Mumbai, not many people other than slum-dwellers shoulder such disproportionate burdens of climate change. Slum dwellings are often constructed out of scrap metal with no ventilation or proper insolation. When monsoon season arrives dwellings often flood, and when the water drains out it leaves mold behind to be perpetually inhaled. The tin walls and rooves of slum buildings in the summer make the unfortunate residents inside feel like they’re baking, even more so with rising temperatures.[]

North American urbanists may think that cities have a default setting towards environmental friendliness, as we see in the global South, they do not. This sentiment may come from, the improving environmental condition of cities in the Global North (although they have a long way to go.) Mayor Bloomberg’s “PlaNYC” initiative provides excellent examples of what cities ought to do in order to effectively mitigate climate change. Two things from the plan I find incredibly interesting are congestion pricing and the creation of beautiful waterfront parks, perhaps the most physical representation of Bloomberg’s legacy (aside from rebuilding from the rubble of Ground Zero.) Congestion pricing in New York City is effectively a toll on vehicles moving in and out of Midtown Manhattan during times where traffic is heaviest. Cities such as London, Milan, and Stockholm show that levying tolls on rush hour traffic is an effective way to incentivize transit ridership and get carbon-emitting cars off the road. The majority of New York City residents don’t even own a car anyways[2], making the weight of each resident’s carbon footprint a whole lot lighter. Fewer cars on the road equates to lower carbon emissions. Unfortunately, however, New York City lags behind its international counterparts due to the reluctance of Trump DOT under Secretary Elaine Chao to implement anything of the sort. Biden’s DOT, however, recently lifted the roadblocks to congestion pricing leftover from the previous administration, and the city should be set to implement it in a matter of months.[3]

The Bloomberg administration also constructed some magnificent and beloved waterfront parks on top of former industrial sites. One of the best examples of this Bloomberg initiative is Brooklyn Bridge Park (BBP.) The park makes for a great case study in sustainable design,[4] I believe that it represents part of what other coastal cities in the Northeast ought to be doing with their waterfronts to mitigate the effects of climate change. Old industrial piers on the edge of Brooklyn Heights were transformed into Brooklyn Bridge Park using recycled wood and granite for park benches, structures, and decking, as well as recycled fill material from the (long-delayed) East Side Access Project. BBP also restores vital habitats of native plants, birds, and marine life by recreating the salt marshes and meadows that were destroyed as Brooklyn grew. Notably, the BBP also partnered with the Billion Oyster Project to restore oyster reefs to the Hudson. The reintroduction of oysters is in large part responsible for the estuary’s dramatic environmental turnaround from a deathly polluted waterway to a place where even whales and seals have returned.[5]

Providence has the opportunity to create its own iteration of a Brooklyn Bridge Park-style sustainable green space, but that opportunity is already diminished and threatened to be completely decimated by development. In 2002 the Rhode Island Department of Transportation completed work on relocating an old elevated viaduct of Interstate-95 that separated Downtown Providence from the Jewelry District for over half a century. While I would have preferred the complete demolition of I-95 within Providence, still, it was a great first step by the state’s tragic history of land-use planning. Being such a poor city, however, and desperately wanting to scrape off residents from Boston and New York, the city put as much land as it possibly could up for development.

While a sustainable park was implemented in the execution of the former I-95 land’s master plan, it is much smaller than it needs to be. Therefore, the park’s potential utility as a public amenity that both protects Downtown Providence from rising sea levels and provides Providentians much-needed greenspace is considerably diminished. Even the existing parkland is threatened by a high-rise mixed-use luxury condominium building that would become the tallest structure in the state.

If I were in control of land-use planning of the land formally under the Interstate, I would strictly follow the Smart Growth Tools outlined in Chapter 20 of Living in the Environment. First, I would cordon off everything east of Dyer Street from development and hire the same landscape architecture firm that built Brooklyn Bridge Park to build a park on the model of BBP. Certainly, I would make the blocks of the new streets way smaller as to fit in with the historic streetscape of Downtown Providence and the Jewelry District to promote a mixture of uses and encourage transportation alternatives to automobiles. Scattered across the blocks I may create smaller urban parks on the model of those such as Father Demo Square in Greenwich Village. Some of my zoning ordinances would impose constrictive parking maximums instead of minimums, call for each building to implement green roofing, and encourage density and the mixing of uses, and inciting tax incentives would be offered to buildings that achieve high LEED ratings. Unsurprisingly, none of these incentives are being implemented by the State of Rhode Island or the City of Providence.

When Superstorm Sandy hit New York City, Brooklyn Bridge Park withstood better than city officials expected. The park absorbed much of the blow the storm dealt to surrounding neighborhoods.[6]Unlike New York, Providence has the geographic advantage of not being a low-lying archipelago. The city’s geography is characterized by steep rolling hills and deep river valleys and flatlands, the former comprises more of the city than the latter. Therefore, the city is naturally going to be more resilient than many of its northeastern counterparts. The only parts it needs to protect is its immediate waterfront and the flatland valleys of Downtown Providence. It seems as though the city’s urban planning department has been reduced to a wealth management agency. They would rather boost property tax rates and cram as much new development they can under the city’s arcane zoning laws rather than conserve and protect our irreplaceable, historic urban patrimony with a public amenity capitalized on to its full potential.

WC: 1,559

Question: The "15-Minute City," where people can find all of their needs and wants within a fifteen-minute walk from their home is often cited as one of the strongest answers cities give to climate change, by inducing less consumption (especially in the transportation sector.) However, I fear that designated 15-Minute city areas could become enclaves for the rich. Arguably, places like Greenwich Village in New York, or Wayland in Providence are already rich enclaves of the 15-minute city.

If we do not address inequality while implementing 15-minute city plans, will all

the environmental benefits be offset by the larger consumption habits of rich populations?

[1] United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs: Population Division https://www.un.org/en/development/desa/population/publications/urbanization/urban-rural.asp#:~:text=By%20the%20middle%20of%202009,urbanization%20remain%20among%20development%20groups. [2] NYCEDC: New Yorkers and Their Cars, https://edc.nyc/article/new-yorkers-and-their-cars#:~:text=According%20to%20recent%20census%20estimates,own%20three%20or%20more!). [3] Kuntzman, Gersh. Congestion Pricing May Not Go Anywhere Unless Biden Wins, Mayor Says. Streetsblog NYC, 14 July 2020 https://nyc.streetsblog.org/2020/07/14/congestion-pricing-may-not-go-anywhere-unless-biden-wins-mayor-says/ [4] https://www.brooklynbridgepark.org/about/sustainability/ [5] https://untappedcities.com/2021/02/03/history-new-york-city-oysters/ [6] https://www.ecolandscaping.org/01/managing-water-in-the-landscape/stormwater-management/weathering-the-storm-horticulture-management-in-brooklyn-bridge-park-in-the-aftermath-of-hurricane-sandy/

[sustraiii]

TEAM ZRCN ARC 3 - CHAPTER 4

After nearly six months, the story finally returns.

After months away from operating as a full team themselves, ZRCN are back taking missions again. Things take a turn when an old ally reappears...

many thanks to @neopoliitan for proof-reading editing for me again on this chapter!

NEELA

All four members of team ZRCN were on a mission for the first time in months. Neela would be lying to herself if she said it didn’t feel a little strange, but it was good to have the team back together. 

It hadn’t taken Cordovan long to start classes again at the Academy after he had reunited with his team. He seemed eager enough - but based on what he told the three of them, his mother, Wren, had been wary of him returning; she deemed it as still being too soon. No-one had said anything at the time, but Neela was sure she was not the only one who believed Wren was right to feel that way - even she still found herself fretting about him. It had definitely been something of a relief when their professors started off slow upon his return.

Today’s mission found Team ZRCN patrolling the streets of Mantle on a Search-and-Destroy mission, attempting to deal with a small pack of Sabyrs that had been sighted. Ultimately it had ended up as a much easier mission than expected, and Neela couldn’t help but wonder if their professors had purposefully sent them on a more low-risk mission for Cordovan’s sake. 

Once they had taken out the last visible Sabyr, Zelde had deemed it best to split up and canvas the area to ensure there were no stragglers - she and Xanthos headed in one direction, Neela and Cordovan heading the opposite direction. As they walked, they kept in contact through their scrolls.

“Have you spotted anything yet?” Neela asked, looking ahead all the while.

“Nope, nothing of interest to report on our end. ” Came Xanthos’s quick response. “Oh, wait I lied - Zelde’s looking like she might throttle me.”

“What have you done now, Ravi?” Neela asked, finding herself grinning as she spoke. From beside her, Cordovan chuckled. 

“He’s singing to me.” Zelde cut in.

“It’s not that bad!” Xanthos protested. “My mother always said I had a lovely voice. We’ll settle this right now - Nee, tell me if this sounds bad.”

There was a brief pause before Xanthos launched into a made-up song. The lyrics could be best described as nonsensical, starting off with a few lines about being glad to be back together, before taking a comedic turn. Truthfully, Xanthos was not a bad singer - and would have had a more pleasant voice if he chose not to sing in the most annoying way possible. Before he had a chance to finish the song, however, a loud ringing sound sharply interfered with the call. Neela couldn’t help but flinch at the noise - ever since the night on Shizukana, she had become notably jumpier when things took her by surprise.. 

“Did you hear that?” Zelde’s voice asked over the scroll. Based on the clarity of her voice, Neela assumed she had taken the scroll from Xanthos. 

“We heard it,” Neela confirmed. “It sounded closer to you than us. Meet us there?”

“Sounds like a plan. See you there.”

There was a click as Zelde hung up, and Neela put her own scroll away, before turning to see if Cordovan was ready. “Okay, let’s roll,” She said, making a gesture for them to move. Her voice faltered when she took note of how still Cordovan had become, his eyes firmly closed, and his hands formed into fists. “Are you okay?”

When she got no response, she took a step towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Cor?”

This time her voice seemed to have an effect on him - his eyes snapped open and shifted to her. For a moment they held each other’s gaze, neither of them saying anything, until Cordovan finally seemed to relax a little. 

“Sorry,” Cordovan was quick to apologise. “I’m fine -- honest.” He stopped, but by the look on his face it was not from lack of having anything to say; he seemed torn between saying more or keeping his mouth shut at the risk of opening up old wounds.

Neela squeezed his shoulder. “I understand.” He said nothing in response, but she hoped that the look he gave her meant he knew she was telling the truth.

After the moment passed the two set off to meet back up with their teammates, reuniting with them as Zelde eliminated what looked to be an Atlesian Knight - one much bulkier than its kin. Xanthos was grappling with another robot of a similar appearance, but was having a harder time dealing with it on account of the sword it was wielding. It was fair to assume Xanthos and Zelde had been successful in dealing with them so far as there were only two more left. Hearing his teammates arrive, Xanthos turned and gave them a glance, before beating his assailant back with a lash of his whip.

“Took your time,” He panted as he fell back to where the team were standing. 

“We got a little lost,” Neela lied. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Cordovan giving her an appreciative glance. Xanthos gave a shrug before focusing back on the robot as Zelde strode purposefully over to them. She gave them both a brief glance as if silently checking them, then gripped Neela’s arm and moved her forward, gesturing for Cordovan to follow suit. 

“We need a smokescreen,” She said urgently. “Are you two alright to do that?”

“Hey, if we’re gonna use that, you should at least use the name I thought of for that attack!” Xanthos chimed in. Zelde gave him a look and motioned with her head for him to focus on the task at hand. “Come on, you know Mistdirection was cool.” He said as he turned away from them, electricity crackling as he lashed his whip at the robot he was dealing with.

With the orders already given from Zelde it was only a matter of getting themselves into position so they could execute their smokescreen, or ‘mistdirection’, as Xanthos had lovingly dubbed it. Zelde stepped aside momentarily but kept close so she would be able to land the final blow.

Already generating mist around her with her semblance, Neela looked over her shoulder and called out to Cordovan who stood further back, one hand outstretched - ready to throw up a shield with his own semblance. “Think you can handle this?”

“I’ll try my best.” Cordovan shrugged - which wasn’t the most comforting of gestures given the circumstances. Neela gave a simple nod and turned her gaze to face ahead. She really hoped he would be able to get a shield up in time.

Neela took a breath before calling out to the lone robot - stealing its attention from Xanthos. It fixated on her with a fiery red gaze that sent a chill down her spine. 

For a moment it did nothing - if it were not a robot, Neela almost would have thought it was sizing her up. 

Then it charged. 

With a quick, fluid motion Neela threw her arms upwards. The mist she had been generating pulled upwards too, so as to better cover herself and Cordovan. Her vision was obscured more now, and with  Cordovan’s shields having no visual cues unless hit, it was a brief waiting game to see what would happen. The sound of footsteps in front of them only grew louder until the sword the robot was carrying hit a shield Cordovan had raised just in time. The shield dissipated on impact due to the force of impact and the robot stumbled back. Zelde darted out of cover, blasting at the metal enemy with a rapid shot from her weapon. 

The robot turned its gaze on her and readied itself to strike again. Zelde did not flinch. “Now, Ravi!” She shouted.

Neela hadn’t even seen Xanthos moving into position; she had been too busy focusing on her semblance to recognise her teammate circling around for an attack. He wasn’t using his weapon to attack, but rather his fists. As he got within a few feet of the robot  he drew back his fist - his whole left arm being covered by a golden sheen for a moment - before he smashed it into the robot’s torso.

The hit was enough to dent the metal plate but seemed to do little in the way of actually stopping the thing. It took a swing at Xanthos with its free hand, only narrowly avoiding smacking him on the head thanks to a timed shout from Zelde warning him to roll out of the way. With the robot making another error in its attack Zelde took the opportunity to step closer to it, aiming to get a hit at point-blank range. She had just about lined up the shot when her semblance flared up. It seemed her precognition was a little too late; just as she seemed to recover, the robot swung upwards with its free hand and swatted her aside like she was nothing more than a pesky fly. Her aura flared up considerably, and she was clearly winded by the force of the blow.

The robot was not letting up even though Zelde had been knocked down. In fact, Neela couldn’t help but notice that it was almost striding towards her leader with a sense of purpose… as though it intended to finish her off there and then.

“Don’t you touch her!” Neela yelled, quickly readying Triton’s Maw. The trident shifted into its spear form with the press of a button on the hilt. She gave the grip on the shaft a twist - a new improvement following the events on Shizukana - which ignited fire dust within her weapon, one of three new types she could now more easily switch between. She charged, driving the fiery spearhead into the back of the robot as hard as she could. She knew it wasn’t as much force as, say, Xanthos could muster, but it was working as intended; the heat from her weapon was beginning to melt away at the metal on the back of the robot, which was apparently weaker than the rest of its body.

Given time she might have been able to cause some real damage or maybe even take it down, but the robot was able to knock her aside - much like it had with Zelde - by twisting its body sharply. Neela fell backwards but was otherwise untroubled. The robot seemed to hesitate for a moment, before turning its attention back to Zelde. This time it came at her with speed, raising its weapon above its head with both hands. Zelde had managed to get to her feet by that point, but was hunched over slightly and unable to properly defend herself. She might have been cleaved in two -- had it not been for Cordovan jumping in front of her and throwing up another shield.

The robot never got a second chance to collide with Cordovan’s shield. Just as it was about to swing down once more, a shape appeared from behind Neela. It was only Xanthos making a small gasp in surprise that she even caught it in time - the glint of a blade rushing past her.

When her sight adjusted she could see clearly what she hadn’t before - the colourless outline of a person driving what looked to be a flaming katana into the small tear Neela had caused in the robot’s back. As the person pushed, they became more and more visible, until Neela was able to make out the form of Helia Vines once again coming to their rescue. The older huntress continued pushing with her weapon until finally, the katana pierced through the other side. She withdrew her weapon quickly, and the robot jolted forward a little, before finally succumbing to the damage it had suffered and toppled over.

Cordovan released his shield, giving Zelde a small pat on the back, then looked towards Helia who was still looming over the fallen robot. “What are you doing here?” He questioned - something they were all thinking.

Helia didn’t respond for a moment, still looking at the android, but finally she gave a swish of her katana and extinguished the flames. 

Huh. Where’s the other katana? Neela pondered, recalling that Helia always used two.

There was little in the way of pleasantries when Hellia Vines responded to Cordovan’s question, only a trace of urgency in her tone as she turned to address them. “You’re in danger.”

[starrybouquet]

Darkness and Dawn, ch. 3

Chapter 3 now up! Story is new and improved with actual plot. XD

AO3 link

Full chapter under the cut:

THREE DAYS LATER

Sam tugged on her dress jacket yet again as she stepped through the Gate room doors. After briefing them on what he was planning for the Kairellian visit, General Hammond had sent her and the Colonel off with orders to wear Class A's and to "try to be diplomatic"--the latter aimed pointedly at O'Neill. Daniel and Teal’c were due back any minute, along with the Kairellian’s commander and her entourage.

Behind Sam, the blast doors opened again, admitting one Jack O'Neill, hair mostly tamed. Not that it was any surprise, but damn, the man cleaned up nice. And his shoulders in his dress blues--

She stopped that train of thought abruptly. God, even though she hadn’t been able to go on that stupid date, she couldn’t keep thinking this way. The Colonel had clearly gotten over his feelings ages ago, if he had ever had these particular feelings in the first place. That was clear enough after her return from the Prometheus, when she’d accidentally called him Jack. Excuse me? She winced as she remembered the annoyance in his voice.

Be friendly. Nothing more, nothing less, Sam told herself. She could talk to the Colonel--in fact, she could even be his friend. She just couldn’t go thinking about his shoulders. Or any other part of him.

God, Carter was the only woman who wore dress blues as well as she wore an evening gown. Jack stole a glance at her out of the corner of his eye as he came to stand beside her. For a moment, he felt an insane flutter in his stomach and had the sudden urge to double-check that he’d buttoned his shirt correctly.

Why do you care if she thinks you're a slob? his inner voice groused at him. You’re just her old, grumpy CO, Jack. Have been for seven years. She’s moved on--not that she ever confessed her feelings in the first place. She’s not gonna notice you, not in the way you’re hoping. But despite his thoughts, his heart beat just a little bit faster when turned to him. Was that a hint of appreciation in her blue eyes?

Keep dreaming, Jack, his inner voice replied sarcastically.

"I took the liberty of putting the yoyo I found in the briefing room in your locker, sir."

Despite his somber inner thoughts, the banter came naturally. "What! Carter, you know that yoyo lives in the briefing room!"

Carter put on her best innocent look, and he was mesmerized by the mischievous sparkle that seemed to be complemented by her sky-blue shirt. "Why would you need a yoyo in the briefing room, sir?”

He mock-glared at her. Carter smirked.

And that was exactly why he couldn’t move on. Carter was brilliant, drop-dead gorgeous, had a secret rebellious streak, and knew exactly how to wind him up without ever stepping a foot into the territory of insubordination. She was perfect.

And he was a hopeless old sap. Jack shoved those thoughts into the back of his head and searched for something else to think about.

“So, tell me again why we have to meet these Krillans?”

“Kairellians. And Daniel and Teal’c have been with SG-9 the past two days negotiating with them. They have ring transporters, and they’re willing to share. In fact, they’ve been remarkably interested in trade given how advanced their technology is in comparison to ours.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Oh? What’s the catch?”

The Stargate began to spin, and General Hammond entered the Gate room.

“According to Daniel, they're having a bit of trouble smoothing out the details of the trade agreement,” Carter said as they lined up at the base of the ramp. “We’re hoping a visit to Earth might help address that.”

The ‘Gate kawooshed outward in a cascade of blue, and then SG-9 plus Teal’c and Daniel stepped through the blue puddle, followed by a group of six humans dressed in an array of satin tops and black pants.

Daniel smiled and gestured to the shorter woman at the front of the group, who was clad in a satin purple shirt secured by a copper sash of the same material. “General Hammond, this is Commander Minerva Hallis of Kairellian Central Transport. Commander Hallis, General George Hammond, commander of the SGC.”

Commander Hallis smiled. With dark, piercing eyes, black hair streaked with white, and skin bronzed by the sun, her strong presence belied the fact that she couldn’t have been over 5”4’. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, General Hammond.”

“Likewise, Commander. I’d like you to meet my second-in-command, Colonel Jack O’Neill. Colonel, why don’t you show them to their quarters, and then we can begin discussions in the briefing room?”

Jack embellished the trees behind the lake in his drawing, thoroughly bored. He’d tried to listen. He really had. He liked Commander Hallis--she was a no-nonsense woman who seemed as keen to fight the Goa’uld as they were. But her, Daniel, and Hammond had been discussing the same details of the treaty for going on two hours, and they weren’t getting anywhere. Jack would feel worse, but Carter and Teal’c looked just as bored as he was--they just weren’t entertaining themselves by doodling on their notepads.

Across from him, Daniel was still talking, gesticulating with his hands. "...have been from offworld archaeological digs. To be completely honest, I'm not sure what you need from us, Commander. Your technology is far ahead of anything we have."

Commander Hallis smiled grimly. "Daniel. As you are well aware, any allies in the fight against the Goa'uld are priceless. But even setting that aside, I will remind you that we only have transporter technology because we were able to copy it from ring transporters left behind centuries ago by those Goa’uld who used to enslave us. Many of our technologies were similarly obtained. Your people seem to be quite resourceful and innovative. I am sure your world has something to offer. Perhaps something that we have never thought to build--things we of which have no knowledge."

She turned to the officers seated at the table. "Daniel tells me that many of your world's advancements are used in your military. What unique technology does your Air Force have?"

Jack jerked his eyes up from his doodling and shifted in his seat. "Well, we're the Air Force. So, airplanes. Fighter jets."

Hallis blinked. "I'm sorry, I'm unfamiliar with the term. Airplanes?"

Daniel broke in. "Air transportation."

She tilted her head. "But we have established you do not have ring transportation."

"No, not beaming technology. More like your, ah, coaches and rail cars--except through the skies."

Hallis’ young science counselor, Ayadra, sat forward. She’d been relatively quiet so far, leaving her commander to do the talking, but now her eyes sparkled with interest. "Fascinating. We've considered such a thing, of course, having seen the Goa'uld death gliders. But our research stalled. Transportation has never been a primary research area of ours, what with the rings and all. What are these...airplanes...used for?"

Jack and Sam exchanged a glance. No airplanes?!

"Well, in general, we use them for faster transportation since we don't have ring transportation, as you mentioned. In the Air Force, as a military organization, we specialize in aerial defense,” Hammond explained.

"That would be helpful indeed--a fleet of vehicles capable of stopping Goa'uld death gliders as they descend through the sky," Hallis said gravely. "This would be an excellent item for trade, if you are willing to share this technology."

Hammond nodded. “We’d be happy to share some aircraft blueprints with you.” He stood. "As a matter of fact, since you’re so interested, how 'bout a demonstration?"

And he couldn't help but smile when his two best officers turned to him with identical pleading looks in their eyes.

"Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter, yes, permission granted. I'll call ahead to Peterson."

[layce2015]

John Wick Chapter 3 Parabellum (John Wick x Reader)

Chapter 7: If You Want Peace, Prepare For War (Finale)

Chapter 6

Winston leads you, John, your dog and Charon downstairs and towards this large door with a hand scanner next to it. Winston places his hand on the scanner then turns the wheel on the door, opening it. "Let's make a withdrawal." He said as you enter this room that was basically a weapons room as there was display cabinet and cases filled with guns and knives. You were just in complete awe as you see this.

"Remember...These will be High Table forces. We may have to consider our choices carefully." Charon informed you two as you and John go to one display case. "Why?" John asked him as he grabs a gun and looks it over. "Much has changed during your time away." Charon replied. "Like what?" John asked, curiously. "Well, let us say they have made armor improvements. May I suggest the 2011 Combat Master in combination with the 9 mm NATO?" He said as he hands you two these hand guns that was next to the case you two were looking at.

Both of you take the guns and John looks them over and tries it out. "125 grain, 1425 feet per second. Serious business." Charon said as he hands a bullet to John. "Thank you." John said as he takes the bullet. Charon smiles. "Let us begin." He said and the three of you began to load up while Winston turns on the record player and it begins to play a classical piece of music.

"Charon, will you help set the mood for our new guests?" Winston asked. "Of course, sir." Charon said and he goes over to a panel and flips some switches, turning the power off in the Continental. "I know you'll do The Continental proud." Winston said to Charon. "I'll see you soon, sir." Charon said as John grabs a bigger gun and turns to Winston while you load up all of the guns you picked out.

"And you, Jonathan, do what you do best." Winston said to John. "What's that?" John asked him. "Hunt." Winston replied then he turns to you. "And you, (y/n)..." Winston said and you look over at him. "...do be careful." He finished and you nod at him then you, John and Charon walk out of the room.

"If you want peace, prepare for war." Winston mutters as Charon closes the door and him and the Wicks head into the lobby area and slowly made their way around.

And with that it was on, as you, John and Charon fired at the High Table's men. All three of you shot and killed as many men that would make your way while also taking cover behind some walls or pillars as the armored men fired back at the three of you. Charon wasn't wrong saying these guys had good armor as it seemd you guys had to use multiple bullets at a time just to be able to kill a guy.

Even at one point, John ran out of bullets and threw the gun at one guy in the face then grabbed him and took his gun then shot and killed him and a couple more men. You were shooting at some men when the gun you had clicked, telling you out of bullets. "Shit." You muttered as you feel around you pockets and couldn't find any more ammo or guns, you used them all.

You go and make your way back to the weapons room, John right behind you. "Winston! Winston!" John shouts as he knocks on the door. The door opens and the two of you walk in as you see Winston sitting on the couch and drinking wine while the dog was sleeping next to him on the couch. "We need more firepower." You said and he holds his arms out to the weapons as if to say take your pick. 

Charon comes in and starts to head towards the display cases and you and John follow him. "Armor improvements." John said, slightly annoyed, and Charon holds up a large bullet. "12 gauge steel slugs. Armor piercing." He said and the three of you grab shotguns and load them with the 12 gauges then make your way back out to the battlefield.

These bullets seemed to work as it was just one shot and these guys were down. You and John worked as a team when on of you had to load the other would fire their gun at the threats. One guy came up and started to fight John hand to hand when both of them fell into this little pool of water. You shot at a couple of men coming after you then you turn to the pool and held your gun up at the pool, waiting.

Then the water turned red from the blood and before you could react, some grabbed you from behind then a sword was held up to your neck just as John resurfaced from the water. "No one kills you but me." Zero said to John as he had a hold of your hair in the back of you head. "Only by my sword, John." Zero said as he pulls the sword away from your throat then points it at John.

John ducks down back in the water to grab his gun while you stepped on Zero's foot. He yelps then tosses you to the side then makes a run for it just as John gets out of the water, a gun in hand. You groaned then slowly get up as John goes over to you. "You okay?" He asked you, with worry, as he helps you up. You nodded and said. "Yeah..." then both of you started to go after Zero.

The elevator dings as it takes you two to this large room with rows of large glass cases lined up on the sides of the room. You and John had your guns raised, in case any funny business would pop up, as you two slowly walked out and down the hallway.

Suddenly, a hooded figure came up and knocks you down. You fall to the ground as John turns and fights the man but the hooded figure was faster and he knocks John down. Both of you start to sit up and see that the guy was gone, you and John carefully look around the room then you heard hurried footsteps.

John turns and fights the guy but he kicks John towards the glass cases. You run towards the guy but a second guy came up behind you, grabbed you and tossed you to the othe glass cases. You and John crashed into the cases and start to get up but these guys kept kicking and shoving you guys into the cases.

Finally, they stopped and you and John see a couple of guns nearby, grabbed them and hold them up as you two get up. But those two assassins were nowhere to be found. Both of you, with your guns raised, walked along the hallway for a bit until John turns to his right and sees Zero standing behind a plate of glass. Both of you fire at him but the glass he was behind was a bit stronger as the glass didn't break, mostly cracked from the impact.

Zero holds up a finger and wages it as if to say No, no, no. Then he holds up a device and pushes the button, which makes all the lights come on. He starts to move and you two follow him until, suddenly, he disappears. What the fuck?! You thought as John looks around the room. He turns to you and gestures with his head to follow him and you do until you guys come up to this corner where the two assassins come up and punch you.

You two fight back as best as you could while they punched, kicked you then shoved you guys against some more glass. You go and grab your gun when one of the assassins ran towards you and tried to grab the gun out of your hand. Both of you struggled and you pulled the trigger but the gun was aimed up towards the ceiling, so the bullets fired up there. You shoved him off while John was dodging the other guy, who was swinging his sword at him.

You grabbed the man that was fighting you and dragged him over to John and the other assassin. The sword guy swings his sword at John but he dodges and the sword hits the corner of the glass case and gets stuck. Before the sword guy could pull it out, you push the other assassin towards the sword and sliced his throat.

You tossed him aside and sword guy pulls the sword out and starts to swing at you but John pushes you back and started fighting the guy with the sword and disarms him the sliced at him a few times then kicks him towards a glass case that was still intact.

Both of you take a breath until you heard someone clapping. You two look up and see Zero on the second floor, standing there and clapping for you two. Then both of you make your way up the stairs. 

Once you two make it up to the second floor, two more assassins come out and attacked both of you. I think they're trying to tire ourselves out. You thought as you try to black the blows one of the assassins threw at you. You tried but you you shoved back and you landed hard on the floor as John tried to swing his sword at the other guy but he was taking down as well and he lands next to you.

The two assassins aim their weapons at you two but they pull their swords away and one of them puts their hand to their chest. "Nice to meet you, Mr Wick." The first guy said. "It's an honor to fight with you, Mr Wick. We must also compliment your wife here. For a non-assassin." the second guy said then both of them hold their hands out to you and John.

You, not understanding what they hell they're saying, look over at John. He gives a curt nod towards you and he takes one of the assassins' hand and you take the other guy's. They help both of you up to your feet then set their swords on a table then get into a fighting stance.

You and John get in a stance and began to fight them again. The kicked both of you towards another glass case and they began to chuckle. "He's getting slow. And she's an amateur." The first guy said to his partner as you and John groaned then slowly get up. "He's been retired for five years. But he is still... John Wick. And she is just a normal girl." the second guy said as you and John get up back to your feet. "We will see." the first guy said and they look towards you two and started to get ready.

John holds both his hands out as if to say hold on, time out. Then both of you started to walk pass them and you start to pull off your bracelet and clicked the buttons, un sheathing the knife blade, while John unbuckles his belt and pulls it off. Both of you turn around to face then and they start to attack.

John tried to keep them away from you as much as he could by hit them with his belt but one of then was able to get to you. You grabbed the guy by the arm and repeatedly stabbed him in the arm with your knife bracelet and even twists the blade in his arm. He cries out then headbutted you to fall, which pulled the blade out of his arm. 

After that, everything was a blur of fists, kicks, swinging of knives, and tossing each other on the floor. That is until the floor breaks and all four of you fall through the floor and back into the first floor of the glass room. John gets up then helps you up to your feet before he goes and grabs a sword that was nearby.

Then he turns to the two assassins and they look at you in slight fear  "Be seeing you." John said to them. They look at him then lay back down in defeat. You let out a sigh then lean forward, your hands on your knees, while John looks up and sees Zero staring at the two of you before he walks off. John turns to you then said, quietly. "Go back to the vaults. Wait for me there."

"You sure?" You asked him. "Yeah." He replied as he looks bsck up at the second floor then back to you. You looked up there as well then back to him and nodded. John leans down and gives you a quick kiss on the lips before you speak up. "Kick his ass and...make sure to come back in one piece." You said and John smirks then nods and heads up the stairs while you head back to the weapons vault.

"John. You're incredible. Exhausted. Outnumbered. Obviously in pain. You still beat all of my students. And I still want to give props to your wife, for a normal girl with barely any training, she's pretty good. If I didn't have to kill you, we'd be... pals." Zero said once John comes up the stairs and Zero turns the lights off. "Let's do this." John said and he runs towards Zero and the two began to fight.

When you made your way to the vaults, Winston and Charon were gone. You were confused and began to wonder where did they go, just as your dog comes up to you. "Hey buddy." You said as you kneel down and petted him. "Where did they go?" You asked the dog and his response was a small whine.

After stabbing Zero through the chest, John heads up to the roof and sees Winston, Charon and the Adjudicator talking among each other. "Parley?" John asked them. "Parley." Winston said as John walks over to them. "What do you propose we do?" asked the Adjudicator. "Let me keep my power." Winston said.

"Under the Table?" The Adjudicator asked as John looks between her and Winston. "I have served and been a beacon of order and stability to our industry for over 40 years. Now, I humbly acknowledge I overstepped. And repledge my fealty to the High Table." Winston said.

"Winston." John pleads as the Adjudicator thinks over what he just said. "You were merely showing strength so we would let you keep The Continental. The High Table accepts your fealty." She said as she stands up then looks over at John. "But what about him? What are we going to do about John Wick?" She asked as she glares at John.

Winston looks over at him for a moment then let's out a small sigh. "Oh, he has to die." He said then he shouts John twice, making John double over. "Sorry, Jonathan." Winston said as John stands back up and backs away from him.

"Winston!" John yells. "Don't see any other way." Wisnton said and he shoots John a few times until John falls off the roof and hits a few onings before hitting the road of the alleyway.

"And what about his wife? She wasn't here so that means she still here in the Continental." The Adjudicator asked Winston. "Don't worry, I will take care of her, personally. After all, she is just a girl." Winston said as the Adjudicator looks him over. "Very well, gentlemen. The Continental will now be reconsecrated. Good day to you both." She said and she begins to leave. "Well played, sir." Charon mutters.

Meanwhile, downstairs, you walked out into the lobby of the Continental and tried to see any sign of John. That is until your dog started to walk towards the front door. "Wait, where are you going?" You asked as you follow the dog outside of the building. 

He goes to the side, towards the alley, and you follow him just as you see a homeless man putting something in his cart. Your dog goes up to the cart and wags his tail, you walked closer just as the man turns to you and smirks. "Mrs Wick...if you please." He said as he gestures for you to come with him and you realized this had to be one of the Bowery King's men.

"What are you...?" You started to ask when you got closer and noticed that the thing that was in his cart was John. "Oh my God!" You said, in fear, as you go up to the cart and see that blood was pouring down his face and he was passed out. "John!" You said in tears. "He is alive. But...We don't have much time, Mrs Wick. Follow me." The man said and he starts to push the cart. You, not having much of a choice, follow him.

He leads you guys to this underground room where you see the Bowery King and noticed that he was cut up in the face. "How you doin', Wicks?" He asked you two then he looks over at John as the guy picks up the cart and dumps John out. John rolls on the floor and groans in pain while you go over to him and kneel down. "John..." you whispered in tears as you look him over and the dog goes to the couch and lays down.

"Well, you look as bad as I feel. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. Raise a hand if you can hear me, John." The Bowery King said and John raised a hand, slowly. You placed your right hand over your mouth when Bowery noticed your missing finger. "Oh, shit. They took a finger." He said, shocked, and you look over at him as he smiles. "Ain't that a bitch." He said. "Fuck you!" You growled and Bowery begins to laugh at this.

"So, the old boy keeps his hotel and you, John, take the fall. Can't say I blame him. I would've done the same thing if I was in his shoes. But this High Table shit..." Bowery said. You gasped in shock at this as he struggles to get up. Winston did this? You thought, confused, Bowery walks over to you two. "Seven cuts. And I lost five of my people. Under the Table is where shit gets done. And they about to find out if you cut a king, you better cut him to the quick." Bowery said and you started to feel bad for him.

"So...Lemme ask you two. How do you feel? 'Cause I am really pissed off. You pissed, guys? Hmm? Are you?" He asked as he looks between you two. John raises his head as he struggles to get up and both of you look at each other. And seeing John this way, made you angry. You couldn't believe that Winston did this to him, how could he do that? You thought he care about John! But...maybe that was a lie...

You pushed back a strand of John's hair, behind his ear, as both of you stare at each other then look towards the Bowery King and gave him your answer.

"Yeah."

"Hell, yes."

[kenkamishiro]

zakki:re translations, Part 3, Vol. 6-9

In which Ishida passive-aggressively-albeit-jokingly rags on Goubaru-kun and reflects on his artistic choices.

The zakki:re and interview translations take a lot of time and effort, so if you enjoyed it please leave a like or reblog. Thank you!

If you would like to start from the beginning, please click here.

Associate Special Class. A protagonist whose hair changes colours a lot.

Weekly Young Jump 2016, Issue no. 4~5, Opening colour page

The cover of :re volume 6. Furuta and an apple. Regarding its contents, this volume was a turning point that slightly changed the course of the story up to volume 5 of :re. Shirazu died in the line of duty, and Haise was dyed in black… I drew the story about a staff member (Goubaru-kun), which was unusual content for a volume omake. During my serialization, I went from Fukuoka to Tokyo every year for the Shueisha New Year’s party. On the first day of the party I’d talk to the other authors, and on the second day it became a tradition to hang out with the staff members. I was looking forward to it as one of the biggest events of the year since I didn’t have much opportunity to play while writing my series, but because of Goubaru-kun...I mean, thanks to him, it ended up becoming a field trip to the hospital for half a day. So as revenge...I mean as gratitude, I drew about it in the manga in the form of an omake. My series has come to an end, but because Goubaru-kun was next to me...I mean, thanks to him, it also became an event where I got to witness my true character. It was his fault that I really learned a lot about myself. Thank you.

2016, Volume 6, Cover

[T/N: You can read said omake here.]

The cover of :re volume 7. Kaneki, to match with volume 7 of OG. The theme of this cover was, “Can I beat the strength of the OG volume 7’s art?” I drew this side-by-side with OG volume 7 Kaneki. When I look at it now, it’s lacking a certain kind of impact even though my drawing skills had improved a lot back then. At the time, I was heavily relying on the anatomy portion of my drawing skills, which was why I may have gone astray in various ways regarding the art’s intentions. In OG volume 7, I wasn’t led astray due to ignorance, but rather because I felt so energetic (and therefore also fragile). For :re volume 7, I get the impression that I was thinking about that in my head. It somehow gives off an air of trying to distract people with anatomy. Nevertheless, regarding the quality of the cover art I feel like I drew it to the best of my abilities in those days. I think it’d be interesting to look back at my other drawings and think about my mental state and the theme of the drawing for each one.

2016, Volume 7, Cover

Kaneki going for a walk #1 Named as “Kaneki going for a walk series” by Chika-neesan of L.S.D. who was asked to do the design for zakki:re. I’ll explain why in #2.

Movie adaptation - major decision It’d be better to call it a “major decision” rather than just a “decision”. The movie had all kinds of stuff too.

Weekly Young Jump 2016, Issue no. 30, Opening colour page

Uh, what was this for again? I know it was a cover for a YJ issue. Maybe I drew this illustration after I finished :re volume 7’s cover art? That one [volume 7 cover] took up too much of my strength, and this one [current illustration] makes me feel like I’m out of breath.

Weekly Young Jump 2016, Issue no. 30, Cover

[T/N: It was for the July 30, 2016 issue of Miracle Jump. Came with 4 other illustrations of Kaneki, including an alternate version of the illustration above, and the “Kaneki going for a walk #1″ illustration.]

The blurb sounds very cool. I also like the placement design.

Weekly Young Jump 2016, Issue no. 32, Centre colour illustration

[T/N: Blurb says, “I’ve only severed off one side of the scenery.]

I also like this design. Illustration-wise, this volume is of course, about Mucchan and Torso. I thought from the start that Torso would meet his end by becoming a torso (literally). I feel like my work doesn’t have many characters that smell of gender, but I can sense it from Mucchan, or rather I think it’s coiled around her. During my serialization, I always got the impression that she was very different from the other characters. I don’t really understand her well.

Weekly Young Jump 2016, Issue no. 42, Opening colour page

[T/N: Ishida refers to Mutsuki as 彼女 (kanojo = she/her) so I will refer to her as such unless he states otherwise.]

Volume 8 of :re. I like how this Arima looks. It feels like the art in this volume was also right at the height of my anatomy phase, and it feels like very crisp. But gradually you begin thinking about something different.  In the wrong direction.

2016, Volume 8, Cover

My thoughts about the colour spread I splashed on bold colours for the spread, I wonder if it was because I didn’t have time or something, I remember I was saved by L.S.D.’s design. I was bombarded by the obsessive idea of, “Do I always have to draw so much?” Because Jump authors’ colour spreads always have lots of characters on them, their colouring is meticulous, and they look splendid. In contrast to that, my spread gives off the feeling that I didn’t have time or any motivation. It’s not that I’m not motivated, it might just be that I’m not good at drawing a lot of characters at once. Sometimes I end up wondering if the concept of “One character only!” might be more powerful.

Weekly Young Jump 2016, Issue no. 50, Opening colour page

100 stickers The illustration of the stickers from the appendix of YJ magazine. There are a hundred of them. I wondered about how much the price of a sticker would cost, so I went to Incube (a general store) in Tenjin, Fukuoka, and bought a pack of clover stickers (30-40 pieces) and one gorilla sticker (why). Both cost around 300 yen, about the same price as Young Jump, so I thought, “Wouldn’t it be a good deal if reading a manga also came with stickers!?” Such a good deal. It was nice seeing readers use them to stick on top of a letter every once in a while.

Weekly Young Jump 2016, Issue no. 50, Special appendix

[T/N: Tenjin is the downtown area of Fukuoka. Also, these stickers were released with the YJ issue to celebrate the 100th chapter of :re. Ishida made comments about each one of the stickers in volume 9, if you want to read them go here and here.]

Cover of :re volume 9.

Transitioning from from full digital to half-digital From this point on, the idea of "How can I finish my manuscript quickly?" greatly occupied my mind. I think it was around this time that work for another series (the game) came in. If I remember correctly. I had been drawing fully digital this entire time, but for this volume I experimented by interweaving digital with analog. We live in an era crazy about speed. However, because I couldn't control the screen anymore, I had a rough time drawing this volume. I used a G pen to draw the characters. The line drawings were uploaded with the scanner, and I finished the final touches digitally. Since it doesn't take a lot of time to write the storyboard, during this period I could finish the manuscript in 2.5 days, and set aside 4 days for other work. Thinking about the manga now, it would've been better if I'd spent my extra time focusing on it, but back then I thought doing this would be the best. This volume is the only volume where the characters were entirely drawn in analog. Since then, it has changed to drawing in analog for quick things, and for things that need to be drawn with more skill, drawing it first in analog before going to digital.

2016, Volume 9, Cover

The Last Things There are a lot of arms entwined around Kaneki, such as Eto and Dragon Kaneki's arms.

2016, Volume 9, Cover sleeve

[T/N: The illustration above isn’t the full version, but the only one I could find. It was also used as the cover art for österreich’s song uploaded on SoundCloud, titled “Saigo no koto” or “The Last Things”.]

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[kbrown78]

Monthly Wrap Up: June

Okay, so I'm actually a bit surprised that the month turned out the way it did. After the past couple of months, I accepted that wasn't likely to read a total of more than 5 books. This month I was able to read a whopping total of 15 books. 15! I haven't read that many books since January. Granted 2 of those books were DNF, one was a short classic, and another was only 7 pages, but still it's an impressive amount for the month. As for ratings it was all over the place. I had everything from a 1 star DNF to even a 5 star book, but the majority of books fell in the middle with 3 stars. This was also a surprise because toward the middle of this month, I was just reading 1 and 2 star books back to back. I lost my enthusiasm for reading, resigned myself to the possibility that this would be a horrible reading month, and even went a few days where I didn't read anything. After soon detox time, I pushed through and even managed to end the month on a relatively good note. Also got back on track with the reading challenges. I read a total of 6 books for the PopSugar Reading Challenge and finished at least 1 of the books I set out for the Reading Frenzy's Pride Month Buzzword Challenge. Biggest achievement was completing my Goodreads Goal of reading 50 books within the year. By the end of this month I completed 60 books, and now I want to see if I can make it to 100. Probably won't but, it will be an amazing accomplishment. So despite a significant low point, June was actually a good month.

Armistice by Lara Elena Donnelly: The previous book Amberlough had been a thorough disappointment, and I was nervous this one would be the last straw for this series. In fact it came close to being the biggest disappointment of the month. If this book wasn't impressing me by the halfway point than I was just going to give up the series. That did not happen, in fact I really ended up enjoying this book. Continuing some time after the previous book (I honestly couldn't tell you how much time, probably no more than 5 years), we follow a few characters from the previous book in their new circumstances, as well as a new character with connections to all the old characters. As I said in my Monthly Wrap Up for May, characters were the driving force for this series, which is part of why the first book struggled, because the character weren't done well. In this book however, the characters are much better because they now have some sense of identity. Aristide and Cordelia were tolerable, if not a little likeable at times. Cordelia's clearly been through some tough times but keeps grinding through to achieve her goal of destroying the Ospies, and her skills are good enough to convince other to help her cause. Aristide seems to want out of the criminal life, enjoying a new life of luxury in film, but the past won't let go of him. The new character, Lillian, was fantastic, like without a doubt the best part of the book. I like how she's connected to the other characters, both with her profession and the fact that she's Cyril's sister. Her work with the press puts in several politically delicate situations, but she demonstrates the smarts and the drive to accomplish her goal of saving her son. Through her you also finally get some behind the scenes political machinations, something this entire series needs yet usually fails to deliver on. Onto one of the stronger aspects of this series, and that suprisingly is the romance. The series stretching relationship is Aristide and Cyril, and with Cyril being absent, you see how much Aristide is effected by Cyril's absence. While having the main relationship be a gay romance, my favorite relationship was between Lillian and Jinadh, a minor royalty from the lush, tropical country where half the books takes place (I think the name is Liso, but I honestly don't know). They have a history, which resulted in their son, but can't be together due to her profession and social taboo's in his country. Yet when they meet again they still feel the chemistry, they want a relationship. They have their differences but are willing to put it aside in order to get their son to safety. I also thought some things that the previous book struggled with where partially remedied in this book. There were actual examples of Ospie atrocities, actual political intrigue (but I still struggle to fully grasp what's going on), and complex motivations that make sense. The setting was lush and tropical, and again had that 1920s feel with the film industry and airplanes, but I still struggle with knowing anything about the world (I don't even know where half the book takes place). So while this book does greatly improve from the first one but it doesn't take things to the extent that it needs to and I'm more than a little worried about how the last book is going to go. Armistice received 4 out 5 stars.

City of Lies by Sam Hawkin: I wanted this to be a 5 star book. All of the reviews I read made it seem like it had the potential to be 5 stars, but it wasn't. Part of issue might have been how long to took to get through this book. First I kept putting off reading it because I was worried that I wouldn't love it and the beginning chapters were very involved and were also fairly long. Than in the middle of reading it I had to put this book on hold so that I could get through other books that I needed to finish in May. This constant delaying of the book contributed to the feeling of the plot dragging, but looking back at the plot itself, there really wasn't much action after the second half of this book except for in the last chapter. The whole story revolves around a murder mystery that begins shortly before the city is under siege. As our protagonists try to find the killer and stop the siege they must figure out who is loyal and delve into the dark secrets of their city. This was a book that had so much potential, it really could have been a 5 star book. Even as I was going over my tag notes for about the first quarter of the book I saw a tone of potential for the world and characters and really saw how nuanced the story and themes could have been. Then the story starts to drag on and on and really starts to show it's true colors as a debut novel. This all culminates in an extremely lackluster, completely out of left field climax with one saving grace scene. Everything in the first quarter of this book was great: the writing was detailed and intriguing but not overwhelming, the POV characters had some depth, with their own sets of assets and flaws, and were immediately put to the test with a change in circumstance, the world was rich and unlike so much grimdark fantasy that I've been reading by portraying that while there were relevant grievances against those in charge it wasn't all bad, and the whole emphasis on poisons was cool. The mystery for the majority of this book was actually done well, which I haven't really seen well done mysteries in SFF books. I was as lost as the protagonists were, it made sense why they couldn't figure out who was behind the conflict of the books, and everyone made for an equally believable. Then things shifted and for some reason the story starts to drag on and on, with the same points being reiterated over and over and no real progress is made, and really starts to show it's true colors as a debut novel. Characters lose their depth (and prominence), the conflict becomes more black and white in morality, new things are just thrown in with little development, and the mystery loses its suspense. This all culminates in an extremely lackluster, completely out of left field climax with one saving grace scene. I really wanted this to be a 5 star novel but it just wasn't. City of Lies received 3.5 out 5 stars and was my pick for the PopSugar prompt “debut novel.”

Gone by Michael Grant: Much like City of Lies, Gone was a book that had a 5 star start. You are immediately thrown into a tense and strange situation with all the other kids, who are now trapped within a confined area and everyone over the age of 15 has disappeared. Aside from trying to survive without adults, new threats emerge in the form of bullies, mutants, and a mysterious creature known only as The Darkness. I loved this series as teen, completely wrapped up in the action and the characters, and was really hoping it would live up to those expectations. It did, at first. The beginning really grabs you and doesn't let go. I didn't want to put the book down, I needed to read how everything played out, and I loved that. Things went downhill when they POV started shifting to less interesting characters and the story really started to lose its tension. Also as weeks have passed between me finishing the book, I find myself forgetting most of what happened and just not being attached to the characters. There were a few that were compelling but they were put aside for Sam and Caine's rivalry which was both clique and not well done. Once the series started slowing down, it never really recovered and even during a high stakes climax, which the entire book has been building up to, I wasn't as invested in the story as I was at the beginning. Above all else, this very much felt like a YA book, with the simple writing, archetypal characters, and underdeveloped plot. Gone received 3 out 5 stars and was my pick for the PopSugar prompt “about someone with a superpower.”

The Invisible Library by Genevieve Cogman: Here it comes, the inevitable 1 star DNF of the month. Though I will say this book wasn't bad, it just really wasn't for me. While I like warm books, I don't usually prefer light hearted books (another reason why I don't reach for contemporary). I will, however, still read these books if they fit the following conditions: they contain certain things within the narrative that I like, I'm aware that it's a light hearted story, and I'm in the mood for a light hearted story. I was not in the mood for that kind of story nor did I know the book would turn out to be one of those kind of stories. I went in there for the library bits because I am a book lover, and I think that is why many people are initially interested in reading this book. Unfortunately, the Library itself was hardly seen or utilized from what I read, so that things could focus on a book retrieval mission, which I found to be both absurd in its execution and boring. It felt like a bait and switch, intentionally drawing in readers with the promise of this really cool library that the story and characters revolved around only for it to actually be about a wacky retrieval mission and murder mystery in a weird alternate world. Which is a shame because what we see of the Library (lots of training with numerous people, vast sectors of different books from different worlds, the various classifications of different worlds based on magic/ chaos and technology, ancient meets modern) was really cool yet is completely underutilized and underdeveloped. Like, why is it so hard to write a good library setting? Seriously, the only good one I've ever seen was the Clayr Library in Lirael, and even that was underutilized. It's not just the bait and switch nature of the narrative that upset me, but literally everything else in the book was disappointing. The writing was so zaney, almost trying to emulate an episode of Doctor Who, and it was so absurd and over the top that it just grated on my nerves. Like for awhile Cogman seemed to be deliberately putting Liechtenstein in every other paragraph to sound clever and funny, but it became very irritating, very quickly. The world that the characters spend most of their time in could have been interesting, an alternate Steampunk London (still don't fully grasp why Victorian London is such a popular setting) with faries in it, but it was so focused on being as weird and over the top as possible that I couldn't enjoy the world, and we never really get much of a sense of what any of the other worlds are like. The character were at best lack luster and at worst irritating. I wanted to love Irene because she's a book lover, relies on her smarts, and I love those kind of characters, but she failed not just as a book lover but as a character in general. We are told Irene a book lover but never shown it, and other than her reading a few books, nothing is really known about her. I don't know really anything about her personality, her likes, her dislikes, her history, what she's like on missions. I don't even know what books she prefers to read or her opinions on various books. She was a very flat character that felt like a prop in the story. This emptiness is further extended  with her relationships. Her parents are always absent but she's not mournful or glad of this fact. She has no attachment to them, in fact she doesn't really show attachment to anyone. Like seriously, this woman seems to have no close friends despite the fact that she works in a large multi dimensional library with other book lovers. This again serves to make her come off as more of a cardboard cut out rather than a fully fleshed out character. The only other “relationship” we see is this petty rivalry she has with literally the only other on screen female. It was so annoying witnessing the only 2 female characters being catty toward each other. This may improve because the rival seems to stick around up to the latest book, but I couldn't stomach it with the rest of the book's contents. Despite how disappointing Irene was, Kai, her new partner, somehow managed to be worse. He was this smoldering guy, wearing a leather jacket and being incredibly gorgeous. He could have been interesting because apparently he's a dragon, or part dragon, but he's so forgettable outside of his looks that you have to be constantly reminded in the story that he is a dragon. The best thing I can say about him is that he wasn't a snarky jerk, but he was just devoid of personality. As far as I got there wasn't any romance going between Kai and Irene but I wouldn't be surprised if that's where it goes. This is a book where characterization, setting, and even plot are sacrificed in favor of writing in a particular style, and this felt a little insulting to me as a reader, but mostly the style just did not mesh well with me. Gave The Invisible Library 1 out 5 stars, since it's a DNF, and was my pick for the PopSugar prompt “favorite prompt from past reading challenge,” which asked for a book that features a library. One day I'll read a book with a good library!

Amnesty by Lara Elena Donnelly: While this wasn't a bad finale, it was disappointing. In fact this whole series was disappointing. I thought based on the covers, and the premise, and other people's review, the series would sweep me away with it's dazzling characters and plot. What should have been a firework, was a sad a little party popper. This book takes another time skip and takes place after the Ospie regime is put out, and follows various characters as the deal with the aftermath of the previous 2 books. All the issues that have plagued the previous books in the series were repeated in this one, and I was honestly over it. Focusing on how tragic mediocre characters are doesn't work if I don't care about them. Even after completing 2 books I didn't really know these characters, I didn't have a grasp of what made them tick, and I felt no attachment to them. While I was disappointed with the characters, the worst thing about this book, and really this entire series, was how the plot and themes were handled. If this book had focused on the election and all the political turmoil, or even the effect these events were actually having on citizens, it would have been a much stronger series. Unfortunately, readers are only given scraps of that narrative, while the author prioritizes the melodrama between characters. This is most telling with the climax, were the results of the current election aren't divulged, it's just left hanging in the void, but several chapters are dedicated to detailing the journey of 2 characters leaving the country. There were some interesting themes that had a lot of potential but aside from giving a few nods to it, there isn't anything done with them. Lillian was once again the only source of anything good in this book. It's through her that we get the election subplot, and I felt for her going managing sticky political situations while having to deal with her brother Cyril who's been labeled a war criminal. Honestly without Lillian, this entire series would have been only 1 or 2 stars. Potential isn't enough to carry a series, and when execution fails the end results are disappointing, which sums up not only this book but this entire series. Amnesty received 2 out 5 stars.

Space Opera by Catherynne M. Valente: This one is going to be short because there isn't a lot to say. I only managed to get about a third of the way into it, which I haven't done in years. Whenever I DNF I make an effort to get 50% of the way through so that the characters or plot has a chance to improve. The reason I quit at 33% was because my issues with the book had nothing to do with the characters or plot. The writing style was awful. It was pure word vomit, overloading the page with every word that sounded like it could fit, and some that didn't. The writing honestly starting resembling a Donald Trump speech with utilizing the quantity of words used (and how cool they sounded) versus the actual quality of word usage. It was about at that point that I had to put the book because I couldn't take it anymore and I knew that this was something that was not going to change as the book progressed. I honestly couldn't tell you anything about the characters or the plot, because everything was so weird. Granted I expected an eclectic writing style based on my experience with Valente's other novel, Deathless, and the general premise of this story, but it was so over the top it was just nauseating and unbearable. I've read a short story of Valente's and really liked that, but I just don't agree with her novels. Space Opera received 1 out 5 stars and was my pick for the PopSugar prompt “book about a game or puzzle,” since it's not about a game exactly but more about a competition.    

Hunger by Michael Grant: I don't have much to say about this one for a few reasons. I hit another mini reading slump because when I was reading this book I wasn't reading anything I was enjoying. This lead to me just skimming like the last half of this book so that it could be over. Even doing that, though,  this book still lacked the level of action that the first book had set up. Not to say that there wasn't some significant things that occurred, but I really think this book suffered from second book syndrome. This book picks up immediately where the first book left off, all the kids still trying to survive in the FAYZE with dwindling resources and Caine recovering from his previous defeat and plotting against Sam. Most of the book is similar to the first one, kids being kids and not really managing things and different power struggles, and once again things being built up just to serve their purpose in the climax, which I think is the biggest fault of this book. Nothing was organically developed, the story seemed to drag on and at slow pace (despite the majority of the book literally taking place within 24 hours), characters were being stupid and generally assholes (heroes and villains), and there was a lot of forgettable material in this book. The saving grace of the previous book was the strong beginning, which this book lacked. The only saving grace of this book was that there were some compelling themes, but even that's a bit of stretch because they were once again poorly developed. After finishing this book I was really tempted to quit the whole series, which is telling of how frustrated I was with this entire book. I will at some point continue with this series, but I need to take a little time off after completing this disappointment. Hunger received 2 out 5 stars.  

Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu: Close to the beginning of the year I was wanting to read a classic novel each month to widen the genre of books I read each month and get back into regularly reading classics like I used to in high school. I read Little Women, but that was really it. Last month Barnes and Noble had a sale on classics, so I picked up a couple that I really wanted to get. This one was the first one I read, and is actually a reread. I first read it for a literature course I had to take in college and I really liked. I liked the soothing tone it set and I found it to be a very thought provoking classic (even if I didn't always agree with what it was advocating). I figured I would probably enjoy rereading it and I think I liked it even more the second time. It's got a very serene tone, the philosophies presented are quite humbling and ones I think should be implemented in daily life (to certain extent), and it makes in interesting contrast to Confucianism with both having their virtues and weaknesses. There was supplemental reading that went along with the edition that I had, which I definitely think helped improve my reading experience because it added context to much of what I was reading. It's the kind of classic that you can see why it has lasted so long, and that you can enjoy reading because of it's simplicity and calm tone. Tao Te Ching received 5 out 5 stars.    

The Lottery by Shirley Jackson: Initially I intended to read this book in September to help get ready for the eerie October reads I have planned. Then I noticed I'm behind on my PopSugar Challenge, so I wanted to do some quick reads to catch up. I looked up this one to see how long it is and it's only 7 pages, so I definitely gave this one a quick read. There's a lot you can break down even in this short story, and I like that. I always like something that gives me food for thought, and this work in just a few pages manages to do that better than some works do in over 400 pages. It manages it tackle and satirize themes of tradition and war, again, in such a small amount of pages. Suspense was also something done really well, which I did expect because it's a Shirley Jackson. At the beginning everything seems fine but then the story starts building up this sinister feeling around the lottery until the horrifying reveal of what the lottery actually is. It's an intelligent, satirical, chilling piece of short fiction that I think everyone should read. This book made a brief appearance on Netflix's Haunting of Hill House, which is another book by Jackson I want to get to later this year, but also thought it was a clever nod to Jackson's stories, and fits perfectly for the PopSugar prompt “book you saw someone else on TV reading.” The Lottery received 4.5 out of 5 stars.

Red Rising by Pierce Brown: Going into this reread I knew it wasn't going to be as good as I remembered. Despite this, and some frustrating aspects, I still managed to find it somewhat enjoyable. It has a rather generic dystopian premise, a boy at the bottom of the hierarchy rebelling against his leaders, there's something about the story that adds enough of a breath of fresh air for it to be engrossing. This book's greatest strength is definitely it's action and pacing. I was never bored while reading it and at least when there was a filler chapter, it was over quickly. It kept adding new twists and turns, creating multiple conflicts for the protagonist, Darrow. As for Darrow himself, he's a character that I both like and dislike. He's arrogant and stupid, but it feels in character and fits quite well for the series as a whole. He's generally a well intentioned person who is fighting for a good cause so you want him to win, but the book does display him as almost being too perfect. Speaking of which, I didn't like most of the side characters, especially the women, because their entire characterization revolved around Darrow. The core trait of every woman was that she's beautiful. Either kind and beautiful or evil and beautiful but always beautiful. It was really annoying, and I wanted more from these characters. The only one I liked was Sevro, who was really an underdog and weirdo, but didn't seems to care. The story in this first book is really an underdog story about overcoming the odds, which is straight forward and something people are both familiar with and inclined to like. The world was kind of cool, a sort of Roman Empire in space, that actually felt like the Ancient Rome and appreciated seeing that. While this book is a bit too shallow for me to love, it's a fun, quick read that can help pull you out of a slump. Red Rising received 3 out 5 stars and was my first book for the Reading Frenzy Pride Month Buzzword challenge, which asked you to read a book with a color in the title.  

The Queen of the Tearling by Erika Johansen: Oh boy, this one was a hot mess.  Much like the previous book, I knew I wasn't going to like this one, in fact I was almost sure I was going to hate it. Unlike Red Rising, however, which balanced out things I thought were good with things I thought could have been improved, this book only had a sparse few moments of compelling narrative but was jammed full of stuff that just made me angry. So the series is about Kelsea, a 19 year old who has been raised in isolation until the day she ascends to the throne. When she does become queen she discovers that her kingdom is in massive disarray and full of corruption. As she tries to work and internal problems and avoid assassination attempts, she also must address the looming war she will likely have with her powerful and mysterious neighbor, the Queen of Mort. While, there were several issues I had with Kelsea (which I will get into in a second) there were a few good moments with her. As a book lover, I was glad to see a ruler who wanted to put an emphasis on education, deeply valued her collection of books, and even worked with the church (which she makes clear her distrust of) to start something of a library system. That's something that I liked not just because of my own love of books but because it's good to see a ruler with those values and implementing them. The other thing was Kelsea ending the Mort Treaty when she learns what it means for her people. It's a tricky situation, and one she probably could have handled better, but I do admire her for sticking to her morals and doing what she believes is right. Feels a bit like Danerys Targyern (before she got power hungry). And that's about it. That was honestly all I enjoyed about the book. Other than what I just talked about everything else in this book actively frustrated me. Characters are very flat, usually either being written as angsty or evil (and those evils ones always being sluts), the plot has a ton of holes in it (biggest example being Kelsea raised in total isolation for 19 years) and generally dragged on with very little action despite the books length, and the world building was, in a word, bad. I'm not going into a detailed rant here, talking about all the issues I had with this book, but there is something I want to go into a little more depth with and that's Kelsea herself. Kelsea has to be one of the worst protagonists I have ever read. She's supposed to be intelligent, or at least book smart, yet consistently makes stupid decisions. She's a condescending brat who insults everyone around her, which isn't a smart idea since she's a brand new ruler. Insists on doing everything her way, and has mini tantrums when it doesn't go her way. Above all else is her hypocritical ways and her obsession with her appearance, considering her attractive mother beneath her for focusing on vanity, but Kelsea spends most of the time focusing on her own plain appearance (which is emphasized at every opportunity and usually in the worst way) and insults other people's appearance. Also when she's talking to her attractive servants who had previously been abused because of their beauty and they try to warn her of that, she completely disregards them, only wanting to be gorgeous. Kelsea is the kind of character this book tries to say is a savior figure, but all the narrative does is present her as a hypocritical brat that shouldn't be within a mile of the throne. I knew this book was going to be bad after reading some reviews, but I didn't think it would absolutely tank. The Queen of the Tearling received 1 out 5 stars.

Wild Beauty by Anna-Marie McLemore: Going into this one I knew little, only that it was a magical realism because that's what McLemore usually writes and there's a curse on this family that causes their lovers to disappear but something changes when a boy shows up. Also you can tell flowers are going to be a central motif based on the colors and title. The flower's provided beautiful imagery and I liked what the meant to the girls and the land of La Pradera. In fact this novel's imagery was probably the best thing about it. It felt distinct, quiet, personal, lush, and colorful. I also liked the family dynamics in this book. All these women tied to the land and each other by the curse that has plagued them for generations. This has the double effect of making them intimately close with each other, but also dislike and distrust each other. I felt their pain just as much as I felt their love. Speaking of love, I also liked Estrella and Fel's dynamic at the start (and only at the start) of the book. Fel mysteriously shows up in their garden, meets Estrella and the 2 quickly develop an odd connection, both being plagued by their pasts in different ways. For a little while I wasn't sure if they were going to become lovers or platonic soul mates, and that's what made me like the 2 of them together because I would be happy with either. I also liked some the themes presented in the first half of the story and how they were handled (within the first half). That being said there was one thing I didn't like and that was Bay. She was kind of annoying and artificial, this figure that all the girls put up on this pedestal, and I honestly found the  Nomeolvides girl's obsession with her (yes obsession, not love) more than a little irritating. Also Estrella was really the only one in the group of girls that stood out to me. The rest were just kind of there, and I would have liked more development of them. The ending was what really dropped the rating of the book. Standalone novels are hard to cram a good, complete plot into, and magical realism tends to sacrifice plot for atmosphere. At the start, Wild Beauty had a vague plot that was slowly developing but there was solid direction with good themes and great atmosphere. Then it took a hard right and the plot seemed to be trying to hard to have something happen at the price of sacrificing everything else and the message took a dark and almost destructive meaning, the girls ripping out everything that makes them who they are. At the end Estrella makes it clear that she has no sense of self love, in fact she seems to hate herself even more because of something she wasn't aware or responsible for. That left a very bad taste in my mouth. The romance also seemed to fall apart in the end too. I already went in with certain expectations, but was still okay with romance. At the end, Estrella's self hatred seems to add an unnecessary amount of angst, and even has a toxic feel to it. It also feels very rushed, though I can't say exactly why. This was a pleasant novel with a solid start that unfortunately was bogged down by an unnecessarily depressing and empty ending. Wild Beauty received 3 out of 5 stars and was my pick for the PopSugar prompt “plant in title or on cover.”  

The Invasion of the Tearling by Erika Johansen: Not since last year have I read a series that has made me so enraged. This series is an amalgamation of lazy, generic world building, toxic tropes, and ripping off of other popular works. There's honestly too many issues in this book to properly go over in a Monthly Wrap Up. There did manage to be a few slightly redeemable aspects but even those were tainted by the rest of the writing. Kelsea started to develop interesting parallels to the Red Queen, but Kelsea became on awful character who showed her true colors. She's petty, violent, doesn't listen to anyone, and isn't as bright as she likes to think she is, yet other praise her as being the True Queen. Also having read the final book, I know that things don't get better, which makes me dislike her even more. The only other character that remotely stands out in my mind is Lily, a character from our world shown in flashbacks. Her narrative is basically a Handmaid's Tale rip off, but she at least seems to have a little more drive. The other character I thought I would like was Ewen, a mentally slow prison guard because he's a sweet bean who always does what is right, but he didn't stand out to me as much this time. This book also really pushes the anti religion message. This could be an interesting theme, because religion and those in charge are capable of doing both good and bad, but it's done in such a black and white manner that all good will of the message Johansen is trying to deliver goes flying out the door. This one's arguably my least favorite book in the series, just because I was so mad after reading it. It's just another example of why I'm always cautious about hyped books, because they are rarely worth the hype they get. The Invasion of the Tearling gets 1 out 5 stars.

Golden Son by Pierce Brown: I was a bit surprised I enjoyed this one as much as I did. Not that I thought I would dislike it, but this book still managed to get a reaction from me. Continuing a year after the events of the previous book, Darrow must maintain his persona as a Gold while hiding his true heritage as a Red. With mounting tension between various faction, war seems to be an inevitable outcome. The start was slow and a bit painful, there was some convoluted moments, but the book overall keeps up the momentum that the previous book developed. This was also the book that made me respect Brown as an author. Darrow still has the same flaws, because that's just who he is, but now he's starting to see consequences. The themes become more developed, mostly focusing on the fine line between revolution and terrorism, imbalance of power leading to civil war, and breaking caste systems. Brown also clearly tried to develop the side characters more, especially the females. However this ultimately falls a bit short and I think the main reason for that is because the entire story is told from Darrow's perspective, who is seeing the world and people through his own distorted filter. That specific element is I think biggest fault this series has. On a good note, the ending of this book was without a doubt the best moment of this entire series, it's the darkest moment and was done perfectly. Even knowing what happened, I was still shaking from the anticipation. It's a book with enough solid assets to balance out the flaws, and is possibly my favorite book in the series. Golden Son received 3.5 out 5 stars and was my second book for the Reading Frenzy's Pride Buzzword Challenge.    

The Fate of the Tearling by Erika Johansen: I'm worn out by this series. I knew I was going to hate this book because even when I first completed the series and still liked the first 2 books, I thought this one was incredibly disappointing. I skimmed most of this book, and outright skipped sections in a certain characters perspective, because I just wanted to complete this series. Like honestly the story repeats the same issues as the previous books with new issues in pacing (moving very rapidly), character arcs (stagnates and does nothing), the ending (huge cop out), the origins of the “magic” crystals (confusing and just doesn't work) and the villains. The main villain was actually the one interesting thing about this story because he could have been this eerie mysterious force or could have been at the center of a compelling conflict about power and politics, and he just wasn't. He was irritating brat who thought way too highly of himself (spurned on by his nut case of a mother) and is another reflection of the poor writing that plagues this entire series. I didn't actively hate this book like the previous one but that's only because I was tired from this series. This is a series where I honestly don't understand the hype and don't know why I liked it so much the first time I read it other than the hype. Disappointing book and sub par series. The Fate of the Tearling received 1 out 5 stars.  

[tae-pollux]

House of Cards: Sacrificial Lamb 3

{Chapter Three}

Rated M Pairing: ReaderxOT7 Genre: Horror? Angst? Vampire/Demon AU a/n: I’m still trying to figure out how to do this bit lol. I’m open to any pointers on how to improve the appearance of my blog and posts. o-o

You didn't know how long you spent curled in a ball, willing yourself to wake up. But you didn't want to stand idly by while waiting for these.. these monsters to come looking for you, either.

Sliding out of bed, you quickly went to the door to check it, finding it unlocked. Which is odd considering you were a prisoner..

Back tracking, you slowly approached the floor length mirror across the room, taking in the damage. Even though you were bandaged up, it was plain as day where you were wounded, as blood seeped through the cotton patches and wraps.

Gingerly touching the two on your neck, you took in the rest of your wan, pale appearance.

Wasn't someone helping me before?

As you thought back on it, there was a person taking care of you while you were coming to. Would they help? It's possible they aren't like the ones who attacked you. After all, what killer would give you tea? Maybe they would help you escape..

Swallowing down your hopes before they get too high, you explored the room. At first, you assumed it was themed specifically in an older style, but now you could see that it was almost like a collection of things from several time periods and cultures. Chinese fine china displayed next to a Walkman. A french vase filled with coins from all times and all countries by the look of it. Rapper bling necklaces wrapped around the artworks neck.

Raising a brow, you couldn't help but notice the 1950's pin-up calendar with scantily clad women, and the modern playboy one right next to it, hung up above a beautiful statuette of a Grecian woman.

“I'm sorely judging whoever’s room this is..” You grumbled.

You turned to take in the rest of the room, but instead of the weird collection aesthetic you were expecting, all you found were books and the bed. What must have been hundreds of books. Put away on shelves, all stacked on one-another. New ones and old ones alike. Some scrolls and some parchments.

Ok.. So the pervert likes reading.

You spot your dress and jacket you were wearing before, resting on one pile of books. The jacket was a goner for sure. Stiff and completely saturated with blood. But the dress was still mostly clean aside from the dirt and smell of alcohol from when you must have spilled on yourself.

Quickly sliding it on, you had to laugh to yourself. They even grabbed your heels that you thought you left behind.

Yeah, fuck that. You weren't about to try and sneak out and run for it in those things again.

Padding to the door, you softly pushed the handle until you heard the faintest click. After a brief silent moment, you peaked your head out, scanning the area.

It seemed like an ordinary house except.. More weirdly random decorations. As you made your way down the hall, you even spotted a pinball machine in another room. Next to work out equipment.

The house was dead silent, however. Giving no hint whether anyone was home. All that could be heard was your uneven breathing and the slight creak of a floorboard every now and then.

Taking the steps two at a time, you went downstairs and turned a corner, finding yourself  the kitchen, which you assumed was where they.. Where they fed from you.. Shuddering and feeling nauseated, you unconsciously scratched at your neck, continuing through the silent expanse.

You were just beginning to think you were home free once the front door was in view, but then you spotted a figure sitting in a chair just off to the side of the door. As if they were waiting for you to make a run for it. He just blinked, unsurprised.

“I was just-”

“So you are that stupid.” He simply stated. Entirely deadpan.

All you could do was gape your mouth like a fish before he was already in your face. Intense silver eyes staring a hole right through you.

“Where exactly did you think you could run to? From us?” The black haired male mocked. Clearly thinking little of you. Backing up against the door, you eyed him wearily, watching as he stuck his tongue into his cheek, annoyance clear in his piercing eyes.

His skin was soft perfection like the others, looking more like a painting than a person. His exotically almond eyes aglow with their silver coloring. Black hair standing out against the white. He was startlingly beautiful.

Like a black widow.

Reaching for the handle behind your back, you managed to slip out just as he reached for you, his fingertips brushing against your back.

In your head, you imagined a grand escape, running like a rabbit away from wolves. However, the reality was much different. More pitiful.

The bite on your thigh stung as your muscles worked, attempting to run down the porch and the stone paths, but more like hobbling. The getaway being made only more difficult once you ditched the path, running over rocks, pine needles and sticks with your bare feet.

You could just cry in frustration.

When you heard him approaching from behind, you began screaming, trying to call for help even though you couldn't see any other buildings in sight. Only forest and the lake.

“Shut it!” He snapped, just before you were bulldozed to the ground, a much larger body over yours, pinning you down, then picking you up off the dirt despite your thrashing, kicking and screaming.

“I got her, Yoongi.” The new stranger bit out as he tried to subdue you, carrying you back to the cabin they were holding you in.

“Oh, yeah. Looks like you have a real handle on it.” The shorter one with black hair, Yoongi, commented with sarcasm dripping from his tongue. But not arguing further, he walked ahead of the one carrying you, hands in pockets.

“Let me go!” You screeched, clawing his brawny arms.

“You should be grateful I caught you instead of Yoongi, you know. He wouldn't have held back.” He grunted, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, giving you the perfect opportunity to jab him in the ribs with your knees, earning a resound swat on your ass from his gigantic hand.

Yelping, you stilled. The stinging making you freeze up until you were inside, being thrown down on the floor of the living room with a loud -oof-

The one standing over you brushed his fingers through his soft brown hair while glaring down at you. His towering muscular figure intimidating you to the spot. He was young, but with masculine features. Looking like a jock or Calvin Klein model as he clenched his teeth, his cheek and jaw muscles flexing under the soft flesh.

“So you managed to catch the fish, hm?” Another gigantic male questioned, entering the room. This one, also with black hair, was more matured, his fair-skinned face statuesque.

What's with all of them looking like masterpieces? Why can't they be as hideous as they act! You briefly thought to yourself, looking between the two would-be models with disdain.

The taller, older male kneeled beside you, making you flinch as he reached for you. “Shh little one.” He murmured, plucking a stick from your hair. “Y/n, was it? I'm Jin.” He then gestured to the muscular one. “This is Jungkook.” When you didn't respond, the muscular one, Jungkook, huffed.

“We should get her back to Namjoon's room before the others see her out here.”

“You're right.” The one named Jin nodded in agreement before standing, then looked about for the 'others' they were so concerned about.

Jungkook held out his hand, clicking his tongue when you didn't take it. “Come with me, or you get fed to my friends.” He sighed, rolling his eyes.

Taking the offered hand, he had to pull you up himself because you were too weak, then you limped after him, anger seeping through your bones and frustrated tears forming in your eyes.

You were so close.

Or was I? Did the attempt even matter? Would I have been caught, even at my best? But you knew the answer. You remembered how the blonde angel toyed with you in the park. How he could be all around you all at once with no effort. Any normal escape attempt would just end up the same way. With you getting grabbed when they wanted to grab you.

Once you were back in that initial room, the brunette left you with a nod, locking the door behind him. As you heard the click of the lock trigger, you slid down the door, tears falling from your eyes.

You were tired and sore and bloodied with disappointment and fear wracking through you. All you wanted was to go home to your friend's house and put on your sweats, eat all the ice cream you could handle, and go back to when your ex was your only nightmare. Now, you were living in a real one.

You weren't sure how long you had been crying, but you must have passed out because you were jarred awake by the door suddenly pushing you over.

“What the-? I give you my bed for a day and sleep in the study on the sofa, and you just sleep on the floor? Seriously?” Namjoon complained, shaking his head before pulling you up to your feet.

Before you could mumble a reply, he began pulling you out of the room. “Let's go meet the boys.” He announced, dragging you, sputtering and pulling, all the way through the house to the living room, where he practically threw you to the floor.

As many times as you've been thrown at it, they might as well get this over with and make you a rug..

The one named Jin entered the room after you, a steaming bowl in his hands, carefully setting it on the coffee table. “Really, Namjoon..” He admonished silently, helping you sit up and ushered you to the bowl of what looked like, chicken and rice soup.

Glancing around the room, various familiar faces were scattered about. You felt like a fly caught in a web as all predatory eyes watched you curiously. Namjoon took a seat in the living-chair behind you, making the nerves on the back of your neck tingle.

“Since she'll be here with us for a while.. Assuming you don't kill her too quickly.” He paused, as if pointing stares. “We might as well get to know each other a little better.”

Jin nodded at you in greeting, a friendly smile on his face. “You know me and Jungkook already.” He gestured to the brunette who was sitting on the love seat, legs strewn over the blonde angel, playing on some portable game.

“We've met, but my name's Jimin, beautiful.” The blonde winked, leaning over the younger male's legs to send you a flirtatious smirk.

“Call me Suga.” The one they were calling 'Yoongi' muttered, half interested from another living-chair across the room.

Then, with a bright smile, the one who made your skin crawl slowly approached, squatting beside you, peering at your cringing face. “We met too, remember? Name's Hoseok.” He licked the corner of his lips as his sunshine smile faltered to a more sinister smirk, brushing his finger to his lips thoughtfully as his eyes landed on your lips.

“Then there's V, upstairs. He doesn't come out much.” Namjoon commented from behind.

When you didn't say anything, the silver fox's booted-foot landed squarely on your upper back, nudging you. “What do you say?”

Well, if you were going to die eventually..

Defiantly, you raised chin high and glared at each individual who was placed casually throughout the room.

“Nice to fucking meet you.” You hissed.

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: 【夏彦拜访剧情】 Xia Yan’s Personal Story 2-9 Translation

Translated parts: Xia Yan’s Personal Story Chapter 2: 2-1 / 2-2 / 2-4 / 2-5 / 2-7 / 2-8 / 2-9 / 2-10 / 2-11 / 2-13 / 2-14 Translation Masterlist: here

Video: https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1xV411m79T?p=7

A quick explanation of how this feature works is that each boy has their own section that you can “Visit”! Part of it is like MLQC’s GSH feature, where you can talk to the boys (with Live2D!) and raise intimacy by interacting with them. The other part of it is a storyline that centers on the MC running around with the respective boy to deal with a certain case or situation.

Basement

After the topic of living alone ended, Xia Yan and I started a new round of searching in the basement.

Soon, I noticed a very exquisite box.

It was very out of place compared to the other, outdated items in the basement. All it was missing was “I’m very special” written on top.

MC: Xia Yan! There’s a box here!

I opened the box. There was a journal in it.

Journal Contents

MC: So Zero’s owner was called Marivisa. They fell in love!

MC: The riddle on the notebook just now was the confession event all along.

I swept my gaze over the journal’s first line, and couldn’t help thinking of an image.

A flower garden at night, specks of fireflies; the same time that the young man said “kiss”, the young lady kissed his lips.

It… no, I think I should use “he” to address him.

MC: And then, the calendar picture records their first meeting, and the alarm clock picture records their daily interactions.

MC: Zero wrote a journal because he feared that if there ever was an accident, it would cause problems on his memory chip’s data.

MC: How romantic…

Xia Yan: But… this isn’t scientific.

Xia Yan: Though AI robots can do deep academic learning, it’s not possible for them to produce emotions, and emotions of love are even less likely.

Xia Yan: Based on the Turing test…

MC: …

MC: Xia Yan! Do you have a single romantic cell in your body!

MC: The Tin Man in “The Wizard of Oz” had feelings! There are lots of AI robots with emotions in anime and movies!

Xia Yan: Why did you get angry… I was just saying…

Cover

MC: Looking at the signature, this is Zero’s journal.

Xia Yan: The memories that Zero wants to find might be this.

MC: Although, why does an AI robot need to write a journal to record events? Wouldn’t it be enough to just save it in his memory?

Xia Yan and I continued to look through the contents of the journal.

Halfway through the journal, the romantic feelings between Zero and Lady Marivisa took a sharp turn.

MC: Not long after Zero and Lady Marivisa fell in love, Lady Marivisa got a serious illness.

MC: The doctor said that an optimistic estimate was that she had three years left…

MC: Lady Marivisa wanted to have Zero delete all memories about the two of them, to have Zero forget that they had fallen in love…

Xia Yan: …

MC: …

Xia Yan: As an AI robot, Zero had no way of disobeying the command of his master, but he didn’t want to forget Lady Marivisa. 

Xia Yan: He used the computer virus to interfere with the deletion command, left clues for himself, wanting to use these to remind himself to find his lost memories.

MC: So we received the commission. We just need to give this journal to Zero…

Xia Yan sunk into silence for a moment.

Xia Yan: The commission letter from earlier had a postmark for 2046, but the last date on this journal is 2043.

Xia Yan: Three years… Lady Marivisa already…

MC: Medical science might have improved and Lady Marivisa might still be alive!

This was only a game, only a setup made of countless pieces. Lady Marivisa could not have gone against this setup.

But I still unconsciously looked for a reason, not wanting to let this story end in this way.

Xia Yan did not refute me. He seemed to have been infected by my mood, following my words to quietly explain it.

Xia Yan: Even so, she doesn’t have much time anyways. Otherwise, she would have returned to look for Zero.

Xia Yan: And Zero… wouldn’t still be in a state of memory loss throughout the three years.

MC: Why didn’t Zero restore his memories in the three years? He should have…

Xia Yan: Lady Marivisa probably made some other arrangements.

Xia Yan: There are many ways to hide things from someone…

MC: …

Is it really like this…

Lady Marivisa used every method possible to have her lover forget her and leave her…

MC: Why does it have to be like this…

MC: Why couldn’t she have let Zero accompany her by her side – Zero would definitely…

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: Because… Zero would be happier this way.

Xia Yan: He wouldn’t feel sorrow, he wouldn’t be sad, and he could happily start a new life.

He seemed to be comforting me, saying this gently.

Xia Yan: A story of two people where only one person has a sorrowful ending, but the other person can have a happy ending.

Xia Yan: If you think about it like this, is it a bit more acceptable?

>It’s not good at all! >Do you really think that?

MC: It’s not good at all! If I were Zero, I wouldn’t be happy at all!

MC: If someone important was silently bearing everything on their back, while I knew nothing while benefiting from her sacrifice – how could I be happy!

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: She wasn’t sacrificing herself. She was just using her own methods to let Zero be happy.

MC: But Zero’s happiness is her.

Xia Yan: She already has no way to give Zero happiness.

Xia Yan: Rather than hurting him at the end, this way would instead be somewhat good…

I didn’t know if it was because of the story, or if it was Xia Yan’s opinion that “as long as one person was happy, then it would be fine”, but I suddenly got a little angry.

MC: Why do you always say this kind of thing! Could it be that you plan to hide things from me throughout your whole life if you ever encounter some sort of bad situation!

Xia Yan: I…!

Xia Yan: … I’m sorry…

Xia Yan’s expression was hard to look at for a moment. In a panic, I apologized.

MC: I’m sorry, Xia Yan, that’s not what I mean…

MC: I just got a little anxious…

>It’s not good at all!

>Do you really think that?

MC: Do you really think that?

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, and he didn’t speak. I knew that this was his admission by silence.

MC: Then what if I got some terminal illness one day and also quietly – 

Xia Yan: What nonsense are you talking about!

Xia Yan lifted his hand, blocking my mouth in an instant. I pushed a few times before finally getting his hand off.

MC: Xia Yan, why did you cover me so tightly? Did you want to choke me to death?!

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan’s rapid breathing took a while before stabilizing. I subconsciously felt some guilt.

MC: Don’t be so agitated, I’m just talking about it.

MC: Look, you also wouldn’t be willing for me to not tell you if I encountered some situation and went off quietly on my own.

MC: I’m the same. If you encounter some sort of situation in the future and disappeared on your own, I would be very sad.

MC: I know that this kind of method is to let the other person be happy, but I don’t think that it will really let the other person be happy.

Xia Yan: I…

The space between Xia Yan and I fell into silence for a moment.

MC: I’m sorry, I reacted a little too severely…

Xia Yan: … I know…

Xia Yan: I know that you hate sorrowful endings the most.

Xia Yan: So I…

Xia Yan suddenly held his words.

MC: Xia Yan…?

Xia Yan: I wanted to say, so we should hurry out of here. Let’s not get sad over a story!

Xia Yan: Don’t you always say that desserts are the best cure? I’ll bring you to eat something delicious, how about ice cream cake?

Xia Yan: Let’s go, let’s go!

Laughing, Xia Yan pulled at my hand, bringing me towards the outside.

I turned my head to look at that journal. The pictures that hinted at the love between two people in this riddle swept around in my head, one by one.

Suddenly, something among them flashed—

MC: Wait, Xia Yan! It’s not the last memory! We still have a clue we haven’t used!

I promptly pulled out those five pictures and placed them together again.

Back

MC: Outside the gaps, there are three numbers – 800, 3, and 2. All our riddle solutions earlier haven’t used them.

MC: But if these numbers were specifically printed on here, then they shouldn’t be meaningless.

MC: The numbers lay on top of the patterns, or you could say that they were printed after the patterns.

Xia Yan: The patterns relate to the escape room’s floorboard mechanism.

Xia Yan: Your meaning is that these numbers are the floorboard mechanism’s next riddle.

MC: That’s exactly my meaning!

Front

MC: Before, our attention was all focused on reading the text on the front of the pictures.

MC: We thought that the symbols on the gaps on the back were related to riddles afterwards, so we ignored them temporarily.

Xia Yan: 800, 3, 2. Something here that relates to having three numbers is…

MC: It’s the shelves! I just saw that the side of a shelf had a tag with 800!

Xia Yan: If so, then 2 and 3 might mean the row and column of the shelf.

We found the number 800 shelf, then found a wooden box and a book from the drawer on row 2, column 3.

The wood box was locked up by a 4-digit password lock. On it, there was placed Isaac Asimov’s short sci-fi fiction novel, “I, Robot”.

Xia Yan: Since this book was placed with the wooden box, then the wooden box’s password should be related to it.

MC: But where is its relation to the password?

I held up the book and flipped through it. The book was very new – there were no ripped pages, no paper notes inside, and no sketch marks.

The book spine’s bottom area had a blank white label stuck to it.

MC: Places in the book relating to numbers is – price, page count, or the book number like the one from the last riddle.

Xia Yan: Aside from this, the book name or the author name’s abbreviation letters can also be converted to numbers using the order of the alphabet.

MC: Then I’ll try them all!

I entered the price, page count, book number, abbreviated name’s converted pattern numbers in one after another, but the password lock did not respond.

MC: It won’t work…

Xia Yan: Don’t get disheartened. We’ve already excluded several types of incorrect methods, right?

Xia Yan: Look, this book’s spine has an empty label. If it’s specially placed on, it can’t be irrelevant information.

Xia Yan: And the other strange place is the shelf’s number.

Xia Yan: The quantity of the bookshelves is only in the tens, so why is this shelf numbered 800?

MC: You mean, the riddle’s answer is related to these two things?

Xia Yan: Right. Usually only library books will have labels stuck on them, but this book isn’t from a library’s collection.

Xia Yan: Bringing it back to the point, looking at these shelves and these books, do you feel some déjà vu?

I looked at the shelves in the basement. Under the dim lighting, for a while, I actually did think that it was a bit like a library.

MC: Is it a library? Right! The book shelves at the library all are numbered!

Xia Yan: That’s right!

Xia Yan: Library books all follow the library classification system’s class numbers to distinguish them all!

MC: Library classification system, huh… I know nothing about this…

Xia Yan: Did you forget that you’ve got me?

Xia Yan: There are a lot of library classification systems in the world. Among them, the most widely used, with the largest influence, is the “International Dewey* Decimal System”.

Xia Yan: I’ve looked at it. The shelves here, the files and the books’ placement in them, should be following this classification system.

Xia Yan: “I, Robot” is a short sci-fi fiction novel by American author Isaac Asimov.

Xia Yan: According to the Dewey Decimal System, the classification number for short fictions is 82-32.

I immediately entered 8232 into the password lock. With a “click” sound, it opened.

MC: It opened!

In the wooden box was yet another journal.

I opened the journal. There was a computer chip inside.

Journal Text

MC: September 15, 2043!

MC: The last journal’s final date was May 7, 2043. This is a new journal entry!

I quickly read it.

“Day 66. I found my journal back.”

“But what makes me happier is the thing you sent to me today.”

“It turns out that before you had me delete my memories, you quietly made a backup.”

MC: Lady Marivisa also really missed Zero.

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan looked at the end of the journal, and quietly read it aloud.

Xia Yan: “Three years, 36 months, 1096 days, 26,304 hours, 1,578,240 minutes, 94,694,400 seconds.”

Xia Yan: “For all time, I will accompany you, and pass these days in laughter.”

Computer Chip

MC: A computer chip?

Xia Yan: The “memories” that Zero is looking for should be here.

Cover

MC: The signature on the cover is Zero’s – it’s Zero’s journal!

Seeing that the two of them were together in the end, I let out a long breath.

MC: That really is great.

Xia Yan: But… in three years, they will still…

Xia Yan: Just for love… they can’t change anything, and there’s no use in it…

MC: It’s not necessarily true that there’s not use in it.

MC: As the old saying goes, people can encounter disaster and happiness within a short time. Something might happen tomorrow to the healthiest of people.

MC: If one chooses to give up because of one moment of difficulty and fear, in the end, they will definitely be even sadder.

MC: Just like it says in here, in three years, there are 36 months, 1096 days, so many hours.

MC: If one can love for one more day, if one can love for a little more, isn’t that better?

Xia Yan: But… in the end their heart will still hurt.

MC: Yes. But this is also the choice of the two people, and the feelings are the matters of those two people.

MC: Whether it’s happiness or sadness, they should be shared.

MC: No matter what the future is like, both people should see it together. No matter what their thoughts are, they should communicate it with each other.

MC: The two people can make a decision together. No matter what the result is, at least they won’t regret it.

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan’s eyelashes lightly fluttered. In the middle of the half-light and half-dark, light and shadow intertwined in his eyes.

MC: Eh? The depth of the wood box’s interior is a lot less than it should be – it’s two-layered!

I pried open the second layer. There was a strip of paper in it, with two rows of typing printed on it.

“Three years later, Marivisa left a message: “If you are willing, then miss me. If you are willing, then forget me”.”

“Zero responded by using his own methods to input this into his heart: “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” – Sphinx”

MC: Sphinx! He came here!

Xia Yan: Places like this all have visitor commemoration registers. We just need to see it to know when he came.

Xia Yan: There’s a ladder there, I’ll carry it over.

--

TL Note:

* “Dewey” is apparently not included in the Chinese name for it, but I stuck it in so Western readers would know it. Pretty sure it’s the correct one.

[qanvast]

What do Singaporeans think about renovation?

Renovating a home is a huge endeavour - and we want to know what homeowners in Singapore feel!

In our inaugural Qanvast Home Renovation survey, we set out to find the answers to a few things and more - What are their expectations? The highlights and challenges they encounter? Is home renovation as 'difficult and risky’ as it’s often painted to be in the news?

We gathered the opinions of over 500 local homeowners who were at various stages of renovating their homes (planning, currently renovating and recently renovated). Their answers gave us an insight to the general sentiment of Singapore’s renovation landscape. Let’s take a look at 10 major local home renovation trends in 2018:

Design Preferences: 1. Practicality and comfort is key

Interior Firm: Third Avenue Studio

*Based on a 5 point scale, with 5 being the most important, and 1 being the least important

For Singaporean homeowners, designing a functional space that’s comfortable is the most important. On the flip-side, only 28% of homeowners prioritised safety the least.

2. Popular styles: Scandinavian and Minimalist 

Interior Firm: Authors Interior & Styling

*Percentages do not add up to 100% as respondents could choose more than one option.

The industrial style is no longer the most popular option - with only 14% choosing this option. In fact, the two most popular interior styles are Scandinavian (60%) and the Minimalist (60%) aesthetic.

Interior Firm: Schemacraft

Light pale shades combined with minimal built-ins and simple shapes is what’s ‘in’ right now. Alternatively, the coastal look (25%) is an up-and-coming theme that’s getting popular as well.

3. Maximising small spaces is still a major focus for homeowners

Interior Firm: Space Atelier

*Percentages do not add up to 100% as respondents could choose more than one option.

With close to half of our respondents responding with a home size of somewhere between 70 – 99sqm (44%), it’s no doubt that many Singaporeans are looking for ways to expand their space – visually and functionally. 

Homeowners are looking for three important features: More space to move about (72%), more light filtering into their homes (67%) and more storage solutions (62%).

Budgeting and Spending Habits:

4.  $30,000 - $50,000 on renovation works may not be enough

Interior Firm: Aart Boxx Interior

A common pattern we’ve seen: 45% of homeowners surveyed expected to spend $30,000 to $50,000 on works alone, while another 34% were looking at a budget of $10,000 to $30,000 and this is regardless whether they own a resale or a new property. 

However, this sum may not be enough, especially for resale properties which may require additional work. We weren’t surprised when more than half of our respondents (64%)  said that they went beyond their initial budget. Be sure to set aside some buffer (at least 10% of your initial budget) for any unforeseen expenses.

5. Furniture and appliances: >$20,000

Interior Firm: Jubilee Interior

For furniture and appliances, 43% of respondents were looking to spend $11,000 to $20,000, followed by 37% who gave a range of $6,000 to $10,000.

6. Singaporeans spend the most in these 3 areas

Interior Firm: The Scientist

The living room (36%), kitchen (29%) and bedroom (24%) is where homeowners spend the most of their renovation budget at. This is where foot traffic and usage are heavier, so don’t feel guilty about spending a little more here. 

Thoughts on Interior Professionals

7. Interior designers: Communication and chemistry are more important than experience

Interior Firm: Lemonfridge Studio

*Based on a 5 point scale, with 5 being the most important, and 1 being the least important

67% of homeowners surveyed still go for an interior designer for their renovation. This is because ID’s are able to provide design concepts and solutions, and can help them manage the entire project as compelling reasons.

Someone who’s genuine, comfortable to talk to, and is able to relate every detail of the renovation clearly to his clients is the ideal candidate. Communication and chemistry/trust are two of the biggest factors that influence a homeowner’s decision to hire, even more than experience or design skills.

8. Poor communication is a huge turnoff

Interior Firm: Poetus

*Based on a 5 point scale, with 5 being the most important, and 1 being the least important

Poor communication – whether it’s a lack of updates, or misinformation – is another turn off for homeowners. Similarly, pushy sales tactics are one of the biggest deal-breakers for homeowners as well.

9. Biggest Issue: Poor workmanship

Interior Firm: Chapter One Interior Design

*Percentages do not add up to 100% as respondents could choose more than one option.

Poor workmanship is something that many Singaporean homeowners frequently face. Over 75% of survey respondents who have completed their renovation cited workmanship is an aspect that they would like to see improvements in. 

Interior Firm: Weiken.com

*Based on a 5 point scale, with 5 being the most willing, and 1 being the least willing

Homeowners are willing to fork out for better quality materials and quality workmanship as compared to other areas like design, materials, furniture and appliances.

10. Singaporean designers are boring

Many respondents feel that the market was 'competitive', but 'lacked creativity'.

At the same time, there is a lack of professionalism in work. From slip-shod workmanship, delays to outright scams, there's a general distrust and wariness. This leads more homeowners looking out for accreditations or doing their own research to give themselves more assurance.

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