#Also I struggled for a word for the early Wind Group

[millyh23]

Abuelita

Alexia Putellas x Reader

word count:

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The Barça team was gathered at a lively café, chatting and laughing over coffee and pastries. Alexia was seated comfortably beside you, her arm resting on the back of your chair, as she listened to Vicky animatedly tell a story to Jana, Bruna, and Salma across the table.

Vicky’s words flowed quickly, with phrases that even you had to concentrate on to catch. But Alexia was nodding along, as if she understood every word—until she leaned in, eyebrows furrowing.

"Wait… what does ‘it hits different’ mean?” Alexia asked, looking between them, a bit lost. The younger girls exchanged amused glances.

“Ah, Ale,” Bruna said, barely hiding her grin. “You wouldn’t get it. Too old-school.”

You bit back a laugh, glancing at Mapi, who had also caught the teasing. She shot you a mischievous look before leaning in with a grin. “Hear that, Ale? Gen Z is trying to tell you something.”

“Excuse me,” Alexia protested, scandalized, her eyes darting between the girls and you. “Old? I’m not old!”

“Oh, sure,” you teased, patting her knee. “Next thing you know, they’ll be showing you how to use emojis, abuelita.”

Everyone burst into laughter, and Alexia’s mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock. “I am not an abuelita! Just because I missed a couple of phrases!”

Salma winked. “It’s okay, Ale. You’re vintage.”

Mapi leaned closer to you, laughing as she whispered, “And here I thought she was the queen of cool.”

Later that evening, you and Alexia were back home, winding down on the couch. She had one arm slung over the backrest, scrolling through her phone, her usual relaxed expression back in place. But you couldn’t resist one last tease.

You nudged her, hiding a grin. “You know, they had a point. You were really struggling today with the slang.”

Alexia narrowed her eyes, giving you a playful glare. “Don’t even start.”

You stretched your arms over your head dramatically. “It’s fine! I get it. You’re probably used to words like… I don’t know, fax machine and VHS—totally normal, classic stuff.”

She scoffed, setting her phone aside and shifting to face you. “Excuse me, I’m not ancient! I’m 30, Y/N.”

“30 is practically 40,” you said with a smirk. “And 40 is practically—”

“Don’t you dare continue.” She tried to look offended but couldn’t keep a straight face, her lips twitching into a smile.

You shrugged innocently. “Hey, I’m just saying, maybe you should start preparing. We can get you one of those pill organizers and a nice pair of reading glasses—”

Alexia scoffed again, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. “You’re hilarious, you know that?”

“I try,” you said with a wink. “But seriously, I could teach you some phrases. We can get you caught up with the cool kids. How about lowkey? Like, lowkey, you’re kinda cute even if you’re old.”

“Lowkey, you’re testing my patience,” she shot back, but she was laughing now, tugging you into her side.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop… for now,” you relented, snuggling up against her, feeling her relax under your touch.

Alexia huffed, pretending to sulk. “I’m telling the team you’re a bully.”

“Oh, please. They already know I’m your biggest fan,” you teased, smiling as you felt her laugh under you.

---

It was a typical Saturday evening, and you and Alexia were sprawled out on the couch after a long day of training. You were scrolling through your phone, catching up on messages, while Alexia sat next to you, humming absently as she flicked through a magazine.

Suddenly, your phone pinged, and you saw the group chat lighting up. The usual suspects—Vicky, Jana, Bruna, and Salma—had started their usual banter.

Vicky: “Anyone up for dinner at 8? I’m thinking sushi 🍣.”

Jana: “I’m in! LFG! 🍻”

Bruna: “Same here, but gotta bounce early. Gotta get my beauty sleep 😴”

Salma: “Same, girl. TTYL!”

You smiled, seeing the typical chaos in the chat, but then you noticed Alexia peeking over your shoulder, trying to read the messages.

“What’s ‘LFG’?” Alexia asked, squinting at the screen.

You turned to her with a grin. “You don’t know?”

She straightened up, looking defensive. “Of course, I do. Just wanted to see if you were paying attention.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Right. Sure.”

Alexia leaned back with a casual shrug, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal. “Well, what does it mean?”

You suppressed a laugh. “It means Let’s F*ing Go, Ale.”

Her eyes widened for a moment, then she quickly tried to recover. “Oh, right. Totally knew that.” She gave you a nod, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sure you did.”

The next message pinged up.

Vicky: “Yo, can someone get the S&P from the fridge? ASAP?”

Alexia furrowed her brows again. “What’s ‘S&P’?”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. “Salt and Pepper, Ale. Obviously.”

Alexia looked at you, trying to keep her cool. “Well, I knew that,” she said confidently, though you could see the uncertainty in her eyes.

Another ping came through.

Jana: “BRB, gotta grab my OOTD for dinner!”

Alexia just blinked. “Okay, I know BRB means ‘be right back’… but what’s OOTD?”

You bit your lip to suppress a laugh. “Outfit of the Day, babe. Classic fashion lingo.”

She exhaled sharply. “Of course, I knew that.”

“Right,” you teased. “Totally.”

Another message came through, this time from Bruna.

Bruna: “That’s a mood, Vicky!”

Alexia stared at it for a long moment. “…What does ‘mood’ mean? Like, the weather?”

Now, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. “No, Ale. Mood means—well, I guess you can think of it as like when something vibes with you.”

Alexia looked horrified, but instead of admitting defeat, she crossed her arms defiantly. “Okay, well, I’m learning. I’m not old like you think I am.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, ruffling her hair playfully. “Keep telling yourself that, Ale.”

Alexia rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “I’m definitely not as bad as you make it sound.”

You leaned over, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re adorable, Ale. Don’t worry, I’m here to help you with your cool kid education.”

As the next message came through, you saw Alexia’s eyes narrowing at the screen, but this time, she kept her mouth shut, likely trying to figure it out on her own.

Salma: “Catch y’all at 8, IRL. Can’t wait for the vibes ✌🏼”

You waited a moment, then turned to Alexia with a grin. “Do you know what IRL means?”

Alexia’s face betrayed her confidence now. She stared at the screen and then looked back at you, frowning slightly. “It’s… not important.”

You raised your eyebrows in amusement. “You don’t know, do you?”

“I know! It’s… I’m Really Lame,” she said, her voice rising a bit as if she was trying to convince herself more than you.

You burst into laughter again, earning a playful shove from Alexia. “You’re so full of it, Ale.”

“Fine,” she huffed, slumping dramatically. “Maybe I’m a little behind. But I’m catching up!”

You smiled, wrapping your arm around her. “Don’t worry, I’m here for you. You’re not that old.”

“Ha ha, funny,” she muttered, giving you a sideways glare. “I’m going to learn all the abbreviations, and then I’ll make you feel ancient.”

“Good luck with that,” you grinned, kissing the top of her head. “In the meantime, I’ll just keep you up to date on all the latest slang.”

Alexia mumbled something, but you caught her trying not to smile. It was cute—though she’d never admit it, you knew she was secretly enjoying being the student for once.

After a long week of intense training, you dropped onto the couch beside Alexia with a dramatic groan, sinking into the cushions like you were trying to become part of the furniture.

“Ugh, my back is killing me,” you muttered, rubbing at a sore spot between your shoulders.

Alexia raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth curling up in a smirk. “Who’s old now, hmm?” she teased, giving you a light nudge.

You glared at her, feigning offense. “Excuse me, my back pain is from being overworked, not from old age.”

She chuckled, stretching out beside you and crossing her arms over her chest. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. You sounded like a grandma just now.”

“Alright, abuelita,” she cooed in a teasing tone, grinning as she patted your hand like you were ancient.

You gave her a playful shove, trying to suppress a laugh. “Listen, just because I have one tiny backache doesn’t mean I’m old.”

Alexia tilted her head with an exaggerated look of sympathy. “Do we need to get you one of those heated blankets? Or maybe a nice back brace?”

“Oh, you’re hilarious, Ale,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t stop smiling.

She leaned in, clearly relishing the moment. “I mean, I could help you schedule a physical therapy appointment. Maybe get you into some gentle yoga?”

You laughed, trying to hide how much you were enjoying her teasing. “Please, I’m still in my prime! You, on the other hand, are the one struggling to keep up with Gen Z slang.”

She raised her hands in surrender, feigning innocence. “Fine, fine. I’ll let it go… for now. But I’m just saying, if you need me to fetch you some extra pillows, just let me know.”

You groaned, reaching for a pillow to toss at her, which she dodged easily, laughing.

“Alright, maybe I’ll go see the team physio,” you admitted, finally giving in. “But only if you promise to stop calling me abuelita.”

Alexia leaned back, crossing her arms with a self-satisfied grin. “We’ll see, grandma. I- I mean amore," Alexia quickly corrected.

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The End

[iela-0989]

Zutara Big Bang 2024

Pride and Prejudice

@zkbigbang

[ID: A digital drawing of a six-panel comic featuring Zuko and Katara from Avatar The Last Airbender. The scene took place during early in the morning, at sunrise. Both Zuko and Katara are standing while facing each other. Zuko had his long hair tied back in ponytail with a soft wave fringe. While Katara had her hair Dutch braided on the back with hair loopies on both sides. They both are wearing dark and warm long coats. Their hairs and clothes are billowing in the wind. In panel 1, Zuko is looking at Katara with sullen look and a small smile on his face. He said, "You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love... I love... I Love You." Panel 2, Katara is looking earnestly at Zuko with glistening eyes. Zuko words continues, "I never wish to be parted from you from this day on. From Panel 3 to 6, Zuko and Katara appears in one frame from their side profile view, standing close to each other. Panel 3, Katara is holding Zuko's hand and bringing it up close to her. Zuko had a slightly surprised expression on his face. While staring into Zuko's eyes Katara said, "Well then...". Panel 4, with closed eyes, Katara leans down and plants a soft kiss on the back of Zuko's hand, on his knuckles. And Zuko seems to be moved by that sudden gesture. Panel 5, Katara looking up while still holding Zuko's hand, stares into his eyes with a warm smile, and said, "Let's never be parted. I Love You Too, Zuko." Zuko staring back at Katara and smile sweetly at her. Panel 6, Zuko bows his head down towards Katara, while Katara props her head up towards Zuko, and then they lean on each other foreheads. Both have smiles on their faces. Sun shines behind them.]

(CLICK ON THE TITLE TO READ THE FIC~ THANK YOU🤗❤️)

Since this is my first time joining ZKBigBang, I am so excited to share this very piece I made for this event. I always love Pride and Prejudice AU. Thus, this fic was among my top picks during the title bidding. 

The collaboration was really fun. I really enjoyed working with the team assigned for this project. Though I barely interact in the group, being a silent reader most of the time, I'm so thankful for every support and feedback the group members gave me🥹❤️❤️

Thanks to all the Mods for making this wonderful event possible🥳🥳🥳 I can't imagine the struggles you guys have to go through in order to make sure everything's going as planned. And for that, I'm truly thankful🥰🥰🥰

Also, do check out my Artist partner @ryu-slayer lovely art and give it some love. You're gonna love their unique style and how admirable their attention to details is🥰🥰🥰

[kvroomi]

—4:53am

the road home stretched endlessly ahead as the three of you, (the moon, kita, and you) sat in the silent embrace of the night. winding through the dark countryside, there were no words spoken. the only light came from the truck’s headlights, catching the occasional glint of dew on the fields and fences that lined the way. the air inside the car was calm, filled only with the grumble of the engine and your slightly uneven breathing. stars were strewn infinitely across the night sky, their faint light spilling over your faces. whilst kita drove quietly beside you, his hands sure on the wheel and his profile serene in the glow of the dashboard—you sat in the passenger seat with your head resting against the cool glass of the window.

though right now was early sunday morning, it was late saturday night when you received the text from kita inviting you out for celebratory drinks with his friends. you were ecstatic at the opportunity to drink yourself free, and something in you had given way. you supposed it was a deep, guttural longing to let go; along with the fact that your mind had been swimming in a haze of lingering thoughts for the past couple of months, you desperately fiend for some alcohol. so later that night, surrounded by a group of enthusiastic and loud friends, you comfortably drank yourself away. it wasn’t enough to lose awareness entirely, but enough to feel unsteady.

often times, you didn’t know what to do with a best friend like kita shinsuke, whose stillness held entire conversations and whose presence could make the world feel smaller and more manageable. he was there, always. silent and steady, his presence as grounding as ever.

your first meeting with the man was quite mundane—void of any particular excitement and yet it lingered with you, etched into memory like the quiet beauty of a sunset you hadn’t expected to see.

it was a small town—the kind where everyone’s paths crossed eventually. you realised that pretty quickly when you received welcome gifts from half the town within the first week of you moving there, (safe to say you were incredibly well fed for the next week and a half).

before you’d ever met kita, he had been a mysterious enigma to you. having been close friends with his grandma after meeting at the local bakery, you’d think that also meant it was inevitable that the two of you would be introduced to one another. you quickly learned that kita was a busy man—that or he was actively avoiding you every time you were invited to visit the pair at home. you’d heard of him before, of course—how could you not? his name carried a subtle weight around town. people spoke of him with admiration like he was more rooted to the earth than most. he was reliable, dependable, and the kind of person who didn’t just talk about doing the right thing because he lived it.

when your first meeting came on a cold, misty morning at the local farmer’s market, you hadn’t even realised it was kita you had spoken to. you were struggling to balance a precarious stack of bags filled with fresh produce, a loaf of bread teetering dangerously on top. just as you’d resigned yourself to letting gravity win, a steady hand had reached out, catching the loaf mid-fall.

“you look like you’ve got your hands full,” a warm and calm voice chimed as a hand gently placed the bread back on top of your bags. startled, you looked up to find kind eyes watching you. later that day, you chalked it up to pretty privilege—because if it had been anyone else but kita, you probably would’ve snapped back with a sarcastic comment about how you had everything under control.

“thanks,” realising how intensely you had been staring, you quickly choked out some words to fill the silence. “i think i overestimated my carrying capacity.”

“i’m sure we’ve all done that a time or two,” you continued staring at him as he spoke, wide eyed as he smiled down at you with a casual softness you couldn’t quite understand. “want a hand?”

you’d hesitated—politeness warring with the undeniable relief of someone willing to help. however before you could answer, he’d simply taken a couple of bags from you, movements pure-intentioned and natural.

“it’s no trouble,” he interjected a second time, searching your face and finding the reluctance.

and that was kita—quietly stepping in when it mattered and never making a fuss about it.

from that day on, your paths seemed to cross more often. you’d exchange greetings at places like the market, on the quiet roads that wound through the countryside, and at local events where he always seemed to be lending a hand or silently ensuring things ran smoothly.

where conversations started out practical and polite—exchanging small talk about the weather, the state of the crops, or the best routes through the back roads; they had also deepened. you found yourself sharing pieces of your life with him in a way that felt natural, like pouring water into a cup that never overflowed.

kita listened; he didn’t just hear your words, he listened. his responses were thoughtful and measured as he carried each word you gave him carefully, treating it like something precious.

of course, he wasn’t the loudest presence in your life, but he quickly became the steadiest. eventually he had transformed into the one person you found yourself leaning toward the most without even realising it.

so as the days turned into weeks, the weeks in months, and the months into seasons—you began to wonder if maybe, he was leaning toward you too.

it was you who was first to speak the entire car ride home.

“you’re really interesting, shin.”

‘interesting’. what an understatement ‘interesting’ was. the word felt hollow and insulting in comparison to the fullness of what you meant. you don’t think you’ll ever find a way to articulate the quiet strength he carried, or the way he could exist completely in his own skin without trouble. even just the thought of it had left you unsteady in yours.

there was something magnetic about him, a pull that had grown stronger with every passing moment. yet you couldn’t bear to look at him now, afraid he might catch the way your thoughts spun so raw and unguarded when you were around him.

you watched the window instead, eyes trailing after the rain-dampened streets as they passed. the faint fog of your breath blurred the view on the glass, but it felt safer than meeting his gaze—safer than risking the tranquility between you breaking apart.

there was so much you wanted to say, words pressing against the edges of your throat. the steady cadence of his presence held you back and you decided that for now, it was easier to just sit beside him and let the air grow heavy with all the things you couldn’t name.

when you turn your head to look at him after a couple seconds too long of silence, you half expect a trace of teasing in his expression. it shocks you when there’s nothing except unadulterated patience as you lock eyes for a moment.

you continue, both frustrated and full of gratitude. “the way you do that thing where you just… are.”

by now, you’re sure it’s the alcohol talking.

“every single time, you always manage to stay so collected like you’ve got everything figured out! hell, i’m sitting here near tears because all i had were three drinks and sang awful karaoke.” your loud and exasperated voice turns into a slur of mumbles and grumbles by the end.

“i’d say you hold yourself together just fine,” kita replies simply, voice careful and deliberate.

“you’d be lying,” you shot back softly with a turn of your head. you watch the gravel road move with the car once more, overwhelmed.

“i don’t lie,” it’s all kita says, his hands still on the wheel.

three words that settled between you like a warm ember. it was true, kita never said anything he didn’t mean. you knew that truth about him the day you met. the fact was both comforting and unnerving, being seen so clearly by someone who didn’t look away.

when he pulled the truck up to your house, the hum of the engine cut out as he turned the key, making the silence in the air come quicker and sharper. the world outside was still—the stars breathed with the faint whisper of the breeze against the trees.

kita stepped out and rounded the truck, opening your door before you could fumble with the handle. the moon was high, casting a silvery glow over the isolated farm road as he helped you out of the car. his grip was sturdy though gentle on your arm, steadying you as you wobbled,

“careful,” he whispered, arm brushing against yours as he guided you toward the porch. the touch of your skin against his was accidental, yet it burned him like it wasn’t. his steps faltered, just for a second as if the air itself had thickened.

he could feel the tension in his own muscles and chest, unsure what to do with it. when your shoulder brushed his again, this time for a little longer, he almost passed out with how quickly his pulse started to race. the adrenaline of knowing he was too close to something fragile made him yearn to pull you in and to close the gap that had been silently growing between you for what felt like eternities.

the night was cold, the air crisp and cool. you paused and reached for the door as he stood behind you patiently. you moved to grab your keys from your bag but paused abruptly to ponder for a quiet moment. you let your eyes wander over the grooves in the wood, tracing every line and discolouration until you couldn’t hold back the sheer embarrassment and shame that consumed you. “you could’ve just gone home, you know.”

“i know,” you didn’t want to turn to face him.

even though you weren’t looking at kita, he was looking at you. there was no pity in his words, neither judgment—just that steady understanding that always seemed to strip you bare. it felt dangerous; vulnerability was never common with you.

“you’re always here though—and you’re always so kind about it, even when you don’t have to be.”

it was a never ending dance with the two of you: one step forward and one step back, incapable of ever meeting in the middle. these days, you found yourself burdened with the prospect of what could be, anxious with the realisation that crossing that line meant giving a voice to the unspoken rhythm between you—a rhythm that neither of you had been brave enough to call a song.

kita frowned, a deep, harsh line forming between his eyebrows, confused by your sudden honesty. you turned and watched as his gaze started immediately searching yours.

“because i care about you.” it was said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

a laugh choked up before you could stop it. “you’re too kind shin—you make the rest of us look bad.”

despite how confused kita was with your aggressive praises, he huffed a soft laugh and shook his head. “i don’t know about that.”

“no, really,” you insisted, leaning closer. “it’s like you’ve never been afraid of anything in your life.”

kita didn’t respond right away.

instead, he let his gaze linger on you, caught in the way the stars seemed to rest against your skin. the faint glow softened every edge, highlighting the curve of your cheek, the curve of your lips. some day, he’d tell you how he believed the stars themselves weren’t the ones shining, they were borrowing their light from you that night. there was something achingly still about the way you stood there, the night folding around you like it had been waiting for you to step into it—you belonged to it more than anything else.

“you say that like it’s somethin’ bad,” was all he could mutter, afraid he’d crack and talk of the beauty you emanated in this moment.

“Ii’s not fair,” you repeated, voice cracking slightly. “i can’t keep pretending.” you throw you hands up, groaning loudly before dragging them down your face agonisingly. there’s a frog in your throat desperately trying to claw its way out.

“pretending what?”

you could barely swallow, your throat tight and coarse. the alcohol buzzed in your blood, blurring the edges of your self-restraint. “pretending that i don’t… feel the way i do. that i haven’t been trying not to look at you like this for months.”

the words hung between you, heavy like the air before a storm. you didn’t dare look away from him even as your heart thudded painfully against your ribs.

if kita was surprised, he didn’t show it. instead, he stepped just a little closer, his warmth becoming a pillar in the night that pulled you in unconsciously. “you don’t have to pretend, y’know.”

“don’t i?” your voice was barely above a whisper. “what if i say something i can’t take back?”

“then you say it,” his voice came secure and confident, an anchor that came with everything that he spoke. “and we figure it out from there.”

when you searched his face for any sign of hesitation, all you found was attentiveness so gentle and endless, a parallel to the stars that settled above you. “you make it sound so simple.”

“maybe it is,” he said. “maybe it’s just us makin’ it complicated.”

the words stirred something in you—an ache and a yearning you’d been pushing down for so long that it almost hurt to let breathe. you looked away, your fingers curling loosely against the metal of the door handle. “i think i’ve been in love with you for a while, shin,” you admitted softly, the words slipping out like a confession to the night itself.

kita was silent for a long moment, long enough that you forced yourself to look back at him, bracing for whatever came next.

“i’ve known,” you were drunk. kita knew that. he knew that whatever happened tonight was going to change the trajectory of your entire relationship onwards. his voice was soft but unshakable as he continued, “or at least, i’ve hoped.”

you blinked and you felt your breath catch in your lungs when you turned to look at him for clarity. “what do you mean?”

the space between you felt impossibly small now, charged with something that felt both delicate and infinite.

“you’re smart, you’ll figure it out.”

more than anything in the world right now, kita wanted to do but be close to you. but you were drunk, and he knew that after months of pining for you, it was only fair he let you hear his confession sober. “right now, you need to get some rest,” he announced softly. “and tomorrow, when you’re feelin’ clearer, we talk about this properly. because if i’m gonna do this with you, i’m gonna do it right.”

a faint, shaky laugh escaped you as you looked away, suddenly self conscious about your giddiness. “you’re impossible.”

“maybe,” he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

the comfort of his words settled over you like a blanket, wrapping around all the spaces that had felt raw and uncertain just moments before. “so i’ll see you tomorrow?” the question was innocent, laced with your faint smile as you asked.

he mirrored the curve of your eyes with his own for a moment longer, his excitement unwavering. “i’ll see you tomorrow.” he replied back in affirmation with a nod of his head.

and, with that same quiet patience he stepped back, giving you the space you needed. “goodnight, y/n.” the absence of his warmth left you with a deep hole that you desperately craved to fill. but despite the yearning that followed, you accepted it with open arms, a knowing feeling that tomorrow would bring a new kind of intimacy.

“goodnight, shin,” you whispered reluctantly, turning to enter your house.

you felt the pressure of kita’s eyes disappearing as he watched as the door closed softly behind you. you sank onto the couch, your heart still racing. the confession still hung in the air, fragile but real, like the first light of morning just barely breaking over the horizon.

and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t holding the weight of it alone.

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[gossamerufansubs]

Two pages from HEROINE magazine Volume 2 (2004). This edition focused on independent heroine tokusatsu production companies such as Eiyu Club, Center Island, and more.

English translation below the cut:

Page 1

[Header] Eiyu Club

[TN: The kanji seem to mean “movie” and “amusement” together but 映遊 in itself is not a word beyond the name of this club, so I will use the spelling they use themselves in their works, “Eiyu”, here]

[Left of photo where Suzuka is being choked by a masked villain] The heroines from the club that has produced many masked heroines have gathered together! Let’s support these cute and cool heroines.

[In the blue box titled ‘data’] 

Cyber Lady Suzuka

Suzuka Power-Up Plan by Dr. Mori (1998)

Suzuka's younger sister, Haruka, has been captured by Zelda. Suzuka, along with her ex-boyfriend and pilot Yoshiyama Ryo, Haruka’s boyfriend Amemiya Akira, and the creator Dr. Todoroki, set out to rescue her. However, the enemy uses Haruka as a hostage and sends out three monster minions. Suzuka struggles and takes heavy damage as it happens to be the time for her regular maintenance. Dr. Todoroki decides to completely enhance and modify Suzuka. Can Suzuka defeat the three monsters and rescue Haruka safely?

Cyber Lady Suzuka 2 – Dr. Todoroki Speaks of Suzuka’s Secrets… (2000)

Zelda's officer, Kiri, attempts to control the girls with a “hallucinogenic hypnotic drug.” And the next target is Haruka… Haruka is in danger!! Dr. Todoroki reveals the secret of Suzuka’s birth, and what are the outrageous weapons that will be installed in Suzuka?

[In large blue box in bottom right corner]

About Eiyu Club

The Club's Devotion to Masked Heroines

In special effects works, there are heroines who support the hero and sometimes sacrifice themselves to help him. There was a group that wanted to make works centered around such earnest “heroines.” This is how Eiyu Club was formed. A few volunteers pooled their money to produce and sell works, using the profits to update equipment and fund the next production. This pattern has remained unchanged since the early days.

After shooting two films featuring "Cyber ​​Lady Suzuka," the Seria Project was launched with the next title character, and during that time, the relatively inexpensive film "Lila" was shot using mass-produced masks, which also served as a test for updated equipment. “Seria” had its character design outsourced, and the mask modeling was entrusted to one of Japan’s top sculptors, leading to the creation of a beautiful masked heroine. The work also marked the first time professional actresses were hired, and with the use of CG and special effects, it became a major leap for the club.

The next large project was the planning of “Auscensia Memoria,” which inherited the setting and background of “Seria,” featuring two characters and even further improved designs. During this time, the action team from Seria worked with the original character “Wind” created by team If for another production. “Auscensia Memoria” became the club’s first DVD work, and to aim for even higher-quality productions, future works would focus on “internal competition” to further enrich the content.

Works such as “Ciao,” “Kou,” and “Mother-Daughter Robot” were created following this approach, and attention will continue to focus on the “earnest” activities of charming masked heroines.

[Caption of three overlapping photos below blue ‘data’ box] Suzuka is cornered with no escape. What will happen next? A desperate, life-or-death pinch! It was a gripping fight scene that kept me on the edge of my seat. Since masked heroines don’t show facial expressions, conveying their emotions depends entirely on the skill of the voice actor. However, Suzuka is an android, so she doesn’t panic or make a fuss.

[Next to the photo of Suzuka lightly jogging] Suzuka stands out with her eye-catching costume color and distinctive mask.

[Next to a photo of Suzuka holding up a cinder block like a serving tray] I don't know why she's holding a block, but that miniskirt is captivating. Go, Suzuka!

[Next to a photo of Suzuka getting punched] Suzuka gets punched hard by the enemy. Even the way she takes a hit is done with passion. Hang in there, Suzuka!

[The block of text below the large full-body shot of Suzuka] Cyber Lady Suzuka is controlled by Suzuka’s former lover, Yoshiyama Ryo. Suzuka is now controlled as a “battle doll” by a remote control during combat. Emotions could negatively affect her performance, so her “fear” from her human past is no longer present. During battle, Suzuka has no speech function. It’s probably Suzuka’s wish that she remains an android, as her memory is transferred into the mechanical body, and she is revived in the form of a cyborg. Suzuka was killed by the evil organization “Zelda.”

Page 2

[Text in upper left of page] Lila (Red Lilac) - Dream of Shudder

[TN: I’ve seen this written as Lila and Lilac in various materials, making a strict translation difficult. So I will stick with “Red Lilac” as the name of the movie, but Lila as the name of the character in the movie.]

This is the form that Akane takes when she combines with a doll through "Musou Genshin," a power created by her father to fight against the dream invader "Baribas”.

[In red “data” box] Lilac (Red) Version “Dream of Shudder” (2001) - On one lunch break, Akane meets an unfamiliar man. After Akane sees a suspicious light from the man, she is plagued by nightmares that night. The man's true identity is the dream invader "Baribas." He plans to destroy the "Musou Genshin" created by Akane's father and enters Akane's dreams. Akane is attacked by the man in her dream. At that moment, the doll she had been holding suddenly begins to sync with her. Then, Akane transforms into "Lila" through "Musou Genshin" embedded in the doll and challenges Baribas.

[To the bottom left of an image of Red Lila crossing her arms over her chest] The thighs peeking from the hot pants are cute.

[Below the full-body image of Red Lilac] The pattern of a full-face mask with hair growing from it is the same as in the Mighty Lady series, but Mighty uses a bodysuit while this one is costume-based, showing the difference. Of course, there is no giant transformation.

[Small text next to Red Lilac’s left boot] Intense Heroine Feature

[Large header text] Blue Lilac - Pure Heart

[Text to the left of header text] A caring and cheerful heroine!

[Below circle-framed images] Lila Lapis Lazuli (Blue)

Originally a normal 1/1 figure [TN: a figure scaled to be human sized], she was given life by "the sanctuary of life" and begins to take care of her owner, Daisuke. She’s absolutely the "pushy wife" type. Surprised Daisuke is then visited by his childhood friend and idol talent Honoka, causing a commotion. A rivalry for Daisuke begins between Honoka and Lilac. 

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This.... (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Fandom: Outer Range, Rhett Abbott, f!reader Summary: You and Rhett have a unique friendship. Every time you go out with a group, you end up getting drunk, dancing, and making out with him only to then wind up going home with other people. But what happens when Rhett asks you to dance before either of you has had a drink.... Word Count: 3744 TW: Fluff, Kissing, Love Confession, Drinking, Mentions of drunk making out, Mentions of drunk dancing, Language Notes: For @ohtobeleah's Galentine's Day Special based on "You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This" by Toby Keith (RIP 😔💗)

Despite the relatively early hour, the bar was busier than usual even for a Saturday night. You had forgotten there was some big sports thing that weekend the next town over so the overabundance of unfamiliar faces blending into the sea of regulars was a bit of a shock when you first arrived with your friends but—miraculously—the six of you managed to stake your claim on a table not too far from where you usually sat. 

However, you had struggled to squeeze through the crowd and since everyone else was already sitting when you finally caught up, it was unanimously decided you should fight your way back up to the bar to get the first round of drinks. You put up a brief mock protest before surrendering to the peer pressure, but secretly, you didn’t mind. It gave you a chance to scope out the space and see if any of the out-of-towners caught your eye. Your town wasn’t small per se, but even in a medium-sized pond, there were only so many fish. So when there was a chance at some fresh blood, why not take advantage?

What seemed like an eternity later, you pushed your way back to your friends and practically threw the beers onto the table before collapsing into the booth. While you had enjoyed watching all the new potential hookups around you, you had also been relentlessly jostled, had beer spilled on your boots, and had three separate guys grab your ass before claiming it was an “accident” due to the crowd. And all just to get a crappy $7 beer. Ridiculous.

As you took your first drink, you finally realized only five people were sitting around the table instead of six. Nudging Parker who was sitting next to you, you leaned over and shouted above the music, “Where’d Rhett go?”

She shrugged dismissively, her attention locked on some douchy-looking frat bro eye-fucking her from a few tables away. “I don’t know. He said something about going to help you with the drinks or something.”

“Well, I never saw him.”

“He’s a big boy. He’ll find his way back. Or not.” She pointed at the frat bro, signaling the end of her interest in your questions. “What do you think about him?”

Without glancing back over, you deadpanned, “I think if you let him even touch you, you should get tested in the morning.”

She rolled her eyes at you before sitting up straighter as she bit her lip and coyly waved at the frat bro, clearly dismissing you. 

You caught Alec’s eye over the top of Parker’s head and you both tried to suppress a chuckle. Parker infamously made the worst choices when it came to men and she only dug her claws in deeper when any of you tried to talk her out of them, so it was better to just let her do whatever she was going to do and help her deal with the consequences afterward.

Relaxing back in your seat, you took another long drink from your beer. It was now almost half empty and just the thought of wading back through the crowd for another one made you internally groan. Though you could probably convince Alec to go since you got the first round but that would involv–

Your internal conversation was cut off as you spotted Rhett pushing his way through the crowd towards the table. Sitting up, you smiled at him. “Oh, there you are. I thought you might have gotten trampled by the mob of people or something. Your beer’s getting war–”

“Come dance with me.”

You were taken aback as he thrust out his hand to help you up from the table. 

It was a given at this point that by the end of the night, you and Rhett would end up hammered, uninhibited, and viciously making out in the middle of the dance floor. It’s what happened every time you went to the bar: You’d both drink, you’d both dance together, you’d both get all hot and bothered, and you’d both find someone else to take you home for the night. It was a strange system but it worked. Parker once joked that you were each other’s fluffers, just getting things ready for your real targets for the night. And while you would prefer to phrase it somewhat more tastefully, she wasn’t exactly wrong. Plus, you had found that a lot of guys (and girls in Rhett’s case) loved watching you making out with someone else, rubbing your body all over theirs, just for you to go home with them instead. It seemed as if the two of you weren’t the only ones getting fluffed in this situation.

However, neither you nor Rhett ever stepped foot on the dance floor until you’d finished at least three or four beers. He was fairly shy and reserved when sober and you both were very self-conscious of your dancing before getting at least slightly buzzed. Yet you were currently only halfway through beer number one and his first beer still sat unopened on the table next to you. Rhett might have pre-gamed on his own before you, Tara, and Spencer picked him up, but he seemed completely sober so you couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. 

“I–but we–I mean…”

Rhett smiled as he leaned in close to be heard over the music. “It’s just a dance, sweetheart. It ain’t anythin’ we don’t do every week.”

“Bu-but what about our drinks?”

“I’m sure Parker—” he took one glance at your friend sitting next to you still making “do-me” eyes at the frat boy and corrected his statement “—Tara wouldn’t mind keepin’ an eye on ‘em.”

“You two go,” Tara said, smiling from where she was sitting with Spencer’s arm draped across her shoulders. “Your drinks will still be here when you get back.”

“Well…maybe,” Spencer muttered just loud enough to be heard over the music as he eyed Rhett’s untouched beer.

Tara elbowed her boyfriend with a scowl before turning back to you and gesturing for you to go. Still confused about the change in your routine, you took Rhett’s hand and let him help you to your feet. As he led you towards the dance floor, you turned your head just in time to see Tara and Spencer laughing and shaking their heads as they watched the two of you leave. Then Spencer reached for Rhett’s beer but Tara slapped his hand away. 

You knew your friends didn’t understand this weird arrangement you and Rhett had fallen into—hell, it barely made sense to you. They were all convinced as they watched you week after week that the two of you were falling in love. They never believed you’re just friends having a little drunken fun.

Not that you hadn’t ever considered Rhett as a potential love connection. The first night you met him, that was where you thought things were headed. He had finally had enough of his toxic home life back in Wyoming and was looking for a fresh start somewhere new. So when a contact from his time bull-riding who lived in town offered him a job, he jumped at the opportunity. 

You met him a few days later in this very bar when you saw him sitting all alone in the back corner. Of course, you noticed his classic-cowboy good looks, but what really caught your eye was how nervous and shy he seemed, his eyes mostly trained on the beer in front of him except when they occasionally shifted around the bar uncertainly. It wasn’t as if he were scared of someone seeing him or that he was on the run from something. No. He looked like a kid on his first day of school who wasn’t sure of where to sit at lunch.

So, you had gone and sat down at his table with two beers and a friendly smile. It took quite a bit of patience and coaxing, but Rhett eventually began to open up to you. Then, just as you were going to make the move to his side of the booth, your friends found you and asked for an introduction. By the end of the night, Rhett had slipped naturally into the gang and it felt weird pursuing him in any romantic way after that. After all, you could see how much he needed a support system in this new town and you didn’t want to take that from him for a one-night fling. 

Which was why when you found yourselves sloppily making out in the middle of the dance floor a few weeks later and he just brushed it off like it was nothing, you didn’t push it or question it. And when it happened again, and again, and again, it just felt like a routine or a tradition and you never looked deeper into it.

But now Rhett had suddenly changed things up and you still had no idea why.

Once you reached the dance floor, Rhett pulled you in close and the two of you began to dance. There were so many people around you that you couldn’t move more than a few inches in any direction, but since you usually just rubbed against each other while making out, it shouldn’t have been an issue. However, without the usual buzz from the drinks, you were way too in your head about every move you made. Your usual fluid, natural movements felt stiff and robotic, and all you could think about was where Rhett’s hands were or what part of him was pressed against you at any given time. It was a disaster.

The song ended and a soft, melodic tune began to play. Slow songs were pretty rare but they were always the perfect opportunity for another drink, and boy did you need one. You turned to brave the crowd around the bar once more, however, Rhett’s fingers slipped into yours and he spun you back into his arms.

A half grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he saw your surprised face and he asked, “You rushin’ off already? We just got out here.” 

“In case I’m the only one who has noticed, I’m not really feeling this right now. And besides, we don’t do slow dances.”

“Tonight we do.” He must have seen the hesitation still on your face because he squeezed your hand. “Come on. You can tough it out for one song, then they’ll play somethin’ fast we can move to and you’ll get into the flow of it. Otherwise, you’ll just be waitin’ in that line for the rest of the night.”

Even pressed against him and over the softer melody of the slow music, the deep timbre of his voice was still difficult to hear but you knew he was right. By the time you made it through the crowd of people to reach the bar for another drink, many upbeat songs would have passed and there was a good chance you’d be ticked off by your waiting experience just like the first time. Instead, you could just stick it out here with Rhett and you’d be back to your usual dancing in mere minutes. And he was probably right. Given a few more songs, you’d probably figure out this sober dancing thing and actually enjoy yourself. So, somewhat reluctantly, you nodded to signal you’d stay.

Apparently, many of the people around you had the same thought you originally did because the crowds around you began to thin out giving you and Rhett a little more room to maneuver. The two of you were swaying together slowly and you have to admit it’s a nice change from your usual high-energy grinding. 

Then as the music began to swell, he surprised you by spinning you out and when you twirled back into him, Rhett placed his hand on the center of your back and pulled you tight until you were pressed firmly against his chest. You looked up–unsure of what he was doing–just as his other hand brushed across your cheek to settle on the nape of your neck. One of the colored lights flashed across his face, illuminating the intensity deep within his eyes as he stared at you, and you felt your heart skip a beat as time seemed to freeze around you. 

But that was silly. This was Rhett. You shouldn’t feel this fluttering in your chest or tingling where his skin brushed yours. He was your good friend, someone you had made out with every week and barely gave it a second thought. So why was there this different feel about him tonight? Why couldn't you take your eyes off his lips, why was your head spinning, and why were your knees growing weak? And why didn’t you want it to stop?

Then, using the hand on the back of your neck to tilt your head, Rhett’s lips were suddenly on yours.

Electricity shot right through you as every nerve in your body seemed to light up at once. It felt like you had just jammed a fork into an electrical socket but in the best of ways. This was unlike any kiss you had ever shared with Rhett—with anyone—before. Usually, your kisses with Rhett were drunken, and sloppy, and uncoordinated. But this…Rhett was as sober as you ever see him, and every curl of his lips, every swipe of his tongue, it all felt so fluid, almost choreographed. As if he had planned for this moment for ages. 

Your eyes drifted closed as you let yourself sink deeper into his embrace. You could no longer tell if you were standing still or spinning around and around and around as a dizzying fog enveloped your mind. For a few seconds, you didn’t even know where you were at. All that existed was you and Rhett and the kiss. 

But then you shifted, the top of your head bumping into the brim of his hat almost knocking it off, and the spell was broken. Rhett pulled away, fixing his hat, and leaving you clinging to him for support as the world came rushing back to you. The slow song was still playing and crowds of people around you still occasionally bumped into you as they danced, And yet, from the moment Rhett’s lips touched yours, everything had changed.

But had he felt it too?

With your face still just a few inches away from his, you chuckled softly. “You know, you really shouldn’t kiss me like this.”

“An’ why’s that?” 

“You might give a girl the wrong impression. Make her start thinking lots of crazy things.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He just gave you that same intense stare he had just before the kiss and you felt your heart begin to speed up once more. Then, in a voice you could only just make out over the music, he asked, “What if that’s the point? What if I’m tired of waitin’ for her to figure out how I feel?”

All the air was sucked out of your lungs as his revelation drove into your chest like a fist. “Rhett…”

“No…No…” Before you could process what he was saying, he shook his head and stepped back, letting his hands fall to his sides as he released his hold on you. “’m sorry. I shouldn’t—I’m doin’ this all wrong. But I couldn’t take another week of you wrapped in my arms, your lips on mine, just to then watch you go home with someone else. I just…I just wanted you to know. ‘m sorry.”

He started to hurry off the dance floor but this time it was your turn to grab his arm to stop him from leaving. His eyes flickered up to yours and you saw that all the confidence and certainty that had been there before had been extinguished, leaving only fear behind. You knew it was the same fear you were feeling right now: fear of this changing everything; fear of this ruining your friendship; fear of what came next. 

Sliding your hand into his and linking your fingers, you muttered, “Come here” before leading him off the dance floor and back towards the rear of the building. There was a separate concert area back there that they only opened for shows so you knew it was one of the few places in the bar that would give you some semblance of privacy.

Once there, you ducked into the empty space and shut the door. You could still feel the vibrations from the music and hear the dull thumping, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been before. In here, at least you and Rhett wouldn’t need to shout to be heard. 

Now that you were alone, neither one of you seemed to know what to say or how to start. You both shifted slightly as you glanced at each other. Finally, Rhett rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Listen, can we just forget any of that happened? I don’t want things to be weird between us and ‘m sorry if—”

“No, I’m sorry,” you said, cutting him off. “I was just a little surprised by that kiss and what I said didn’t come out right. But what I should have said, what I meant to say—” you stepped forward until you were brushing up against him, placing your hands on his chest. “—was ‘you shouldn’t kiss me like this…unless you mean it like that’.”

Rhett’s long eyelashes fluttered several times in quick succession and you saw his Adam’s apple bob wildly out of the corner of your eye. Licking his lips, he hesitated for another moment then asked, “And if I do? If I–If I mean it like that?”

Leaning forward, you whispered, “If you do, then, baby, kiss me again.”

The moment that his lips touched yours, the world once again fell away. If anything, now that you were returning his kiss with the same tenderness and enthusiasm, it was even more intoxicating than the kiss on the dance floor and you never wanted it to end.

Both of Rhett’s large, calloused hands slid up to cup your face, his thumb softly rubbing back and forth across your cheekbone. He used this leverage to drive you back a few steps and you soon felt your back bump against the wall. He pressed closer, sandwiching you between the cold, rough concrete and his warm, firm body. Another spark of electricity shot through you and you wondered if he felt it too as you felt the growing bulge in his pants jerk against your hip. 

Through the haze of the kiss, you briefly considered how far you should let this go. A small part of you wanted to undo his belt right this second and drop to your knees before him, or to slide down your jeans and let him pound into you against this wall. After all, the two of you were still alone and no one would see you. However, the bigger part of you knew no matter how amazing you felt at this moment, this was all very new and you shouldn’t rush things. You and Rhett still needed to figure out what this meant for the two of you moving forward, and adding sex right now would just make things even more complicated.

Rhett must have come to the same conclusion because he shifted his hips so they were no longer pressed against you. Then he reluctantly pulled his lips off of yours. His hands slid off your face onto the wall behind you, one braced on either side of your head as both of you stared at one another panting as you tried to catch your breath. All you could do was look at Rhett’s lips and imagine them pressed against yours once more. And from how he stared at you, a hunger pulsing in his blue eyes, you felt he was thinking the same thing. 

“Why didn’t you do that sooner?” you whispered.

“I wanted to since that first night we met. When I saw how kind, and funny, and incredible you were, I was smitten. But then the rest of the gang showed up and for the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. I was afraid makin’ a move on you would ruin all a that and I figured havin’ you as a friend was better than not havin’ you in my life at all. For a while, I settled for our dances and kisses, but I finally realized I didn’t want to be just your friend anymore. So, I took a chance.”

“I’m glad you did because I felt the same way.”

Rhett grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss into his cheek. “Thank you for being the brave one.”

Rhett’s cheeks grew red in the dim light but he nodded as he let his hands fall from the wall behind you. Standing up straight, he glanced over his shoulder. “Um, I guess we should probably get back before we get in trouble for bein’ back here.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if Tara’s sent Spencer out to find us yet.” You pushed off the wall, but as Rhett started to open the door, you stopped him. “Rhett…what happens now? Where do we go from here?”

He thought for a moment before a sly grin spread across his face. Walking up to you, he plucked his cowboy hat off his head and placed it on top of yours, pulling the brim down low over your brow.

Since the night you met him, you had never seen Rhett let a single person wear his hat, let alone touch it. So for him to give it to you, even temporarily…

You squeezed his hand tightly as you gazed into his eyes, loving what you saw reflected there. “How do I look?”

“Damn, sweetheart, looks like it was made for you,” Rhett’s voice was thicker than normal as he stared at you. “I shouldda given it to you the night we met, as soon as you sat down at my table with that smile and a beer.”

Now it was your turn to feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. Glancing shyly at the floor, you asked, “I love it, but I’m not really sure how this answers my question about us?”

“What do you know about Cowboy Law?”

Taglist: @luckyladycreator2, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch

[wonlovie]

bonus chapter ! the fight

After a nasty fall, you, world-renowned figure skater and stealer of hearts, are forced into an early retirement. But with a boyfriend who’s the star player in one of Korea’s leading hockey teams and a friend group of trending skaters who refuse to leave you in the dust, the cameras stay on. So, how are you supposed to keep it a secret when Yang Jungwon, your boyfriend’s publicly declared rival and enemy, decides you’re his next target?

The boys rushed into the changing rooms with wide grins on their faces that were dripping with sweat. Jumbled cheers echoed at their victory, the nth one in a row against High1. Excited chatter filled the room as the group started getting ready to head off. The showers left steam in the air, and the hastily removed hockey gear left behind a distinct musk they’d long grown used to.

Team members left the room one by one, shouting their goodbyes as they went to get some well-deserved rest. Eventually, there were only six boys in the changing room. Jungwon’s cat-like eyes flit over the room as he surveyed his members’ conditions. Albeit exhausted from a gruelling game, everyone seemed in high spirits.

“Shame Jake couldn’t come,” Sunghoon said offhandedly as he pulled a sweater over his head. “Of course, the guy had to catch the flu before semis.” He shook his head, drops of water from his shower flicking in every direction. Sunoo threw a towel at his head, mumbling a comment about getting sick himself.

Jungwon could only laugh at his friend’s antics, sporting a proud smile as he sat on the wooden bench. “He has to rest if he wants to play for the semifinals, Hoon. We’re lucky that he got sick before a match against High1.” Rolling his eyes playfully, he continued, “If it were any other team, we might have actually struggled.”

As laughter filled the room at his jab, Jungwon’s shoulders eased into a slouch. He felt the tension lift off his body as he pulled out his phone to tell Jake about their win. The door slammed open abruptly before he could even press on his contact. 

The boys simultaneously jumped at the sudden intrusion, eyes widening at the sight of the rival team’s captain, Park Yoon, standing in the doorway. His eyes, dark with anger, scanned the room before landing on Jungwon. He felt his heart still at the eye contact but stood up defiantly.

“What are you doing in here?” Jungwon asked, almost exasperated, as he walked up to meet Yoon, arms crossed. “You must have the wrong room. This isn’t High1’s—”

Before Jungwon could utter another word, the sickening crunch of fist-to-cheek contact reverberated around the room. The other boys gasped, Heeseung and Jay moving quickly to separate the two leaders. Their attempts, however, were fruitful as Jungwon pounced at Yoon, punching him back with the same enthusiasm.

“Guys,” Heeseung exclaimed, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to hold Jungwon back. Beside him, Jay did the same with Yoon, pushing his shoulders back to shove him out of the room altogether. “Knock it off—”

His words were brushed aside as Yoon pushed past Jay and hurled another punch at Jungwon. “You’re such a fucking bitch, you know that?” Yoon hissed, eyes turning to slits as he glared at the shorter leader. “The crowd might not have seen, but I fucking saw what you did.”

Jungwon’s lips curled into a deep frown as he fisted Yoon’s hockey jersey. “What are you even talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb! I know you fucking cheated in the last period.” Yoon threw another punch, but Jungwon moved away in time, using Yoon’s momentum to knee him in the gut. The wind was knocked out of his lungs, a violent wheeze ripping from his throat as he hunched over.

“So, on top of being shit at hockey,” Jungwon narrowed his eyes at Yoon, who lunged at him once his breathing settled. “You’re also delusional! I never cheated.”

Yoon landed another punch. Jungwon winced as he stumbled back, Jay’s hands stabilizing him from behind. He touched his cheek, hissing when he came in contact with blood. “I know what I saw,” Yoon insisted, reaching back to strike Jungwon again. Thinking quickly, Jungwon jumped at him, catching him off guard. He hit Yoon’s eye, his knuckles pulsing in pain from the harsh contact.

The door slammed again, all eyes turning to see who had joined them. To everyone’s surprise, you stood there wearing a vexed look. When your eyes landed on the two captains, your expression slipped into one of concern for a moment before the anger seeped back in. 

“Yoon, are you fucking stupid?” You rasped, eyes darting back and forth between the captain’s bloodied faces. “What are you doing?” Taking wide steps, you reached the two in a matter of seconds, looking at your boyfriend incredulously. He avoided your gaze, instead opting to look daggers at Jungwon, whose eyes were trained on you.

Before Jungwon could even process that you were in their changing room, he noticed Yoon moving out of the corner of his eye. He reacted late, closing his eyes in anticipation of Yoon’s assault. Jungwon heard the impact of skin on skin and the sound of someone stumbling, but he felt nothing. Opening his eyes, he gaped when he saw you hunched over, cupping your face in pain as Yoon stared at your crumpled form, wide-eyed.

Yoon glanced at you, then at his fist, and back to you again. It looked like he wanted to say something, but when he looked up and met Jungwon’s peeved gaze, he almost growled in annoyance. Without another word, he stormed out.

The room was quiet for a second, aside from Riki’s utterance of ‘unbelievable.’ Jungwon stared at you for a moment longer before looking at the boys over his shoulder. “Out. Now.”

They didn’t take long to get the memo, scuttling out of the room after grabbing their things. Only you and Jungwon were left in the room, an awkward silence falling upon you. Your face ached from the impact of Yoon’s heavy-handed punch—no doubt you’d be bruised by tomorrow morning. You could vaguely feel blood drip from your cheekbone. Yoon’s ring must’ve left a scratch.

Clearing his throat, Jungwon took a tiny step toward you. Bowing his head a bit to see the damage, his round eyes darted to yours, worry swirling in his dark hues. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

You looked at him with shock conveyed behind your expression, blinking rapidly as you processed his question. You almost hadn’t expected him to hold any compassion for you since you were his arch-enemy’s girlfriend. Wordlessly, you nodded.

He didn’t seem too convinced, frowning as he moved closer to inspect your cheek. He mumbled for you to wait a second before rushing to his duffle bag, sifting through the contents momentarily. You watched as he searched for something, a relieved look on his face as he pulled out a small first-aid kit.

Jungwon returned to you, ushering you to sit on one of the nearby benches. You didn’t argue, staring at him inquisitively as he fumbled with the kit. He said nothing else as he gently wiped the blood from your wound, lips pursed in concentration. You’d never seen him this close before, but he was taking your breath away just as he had at the rink.

You swallowed thickly, looking at one of the room's corners to avoid his intimidating gaze.

He applied an ointment on your cheek, proudly looking back at his work. “I don’t think you’ll need a bandaid. The bleeding stopped, and it’s not too big of a scratch.” He went to close the first-aid kit but paused, looking up at you through his bangs. “Unless you want one?”

“No,” you said quickly, cringing at how high your voice had come out. “No. I should be okay. Thank you for doing that.”

“It’s no problem,” Jungwon said with a soft smile, clicking the kit closed. He stayed there briefly as if he had something else to say. Clenching onto the first-aid kit tightly, he looked at you earnestly, “You were at the rink yesterday, right? So does that mean your leg is better now?”

You physically cringed at the question, a deep frown embedding itself onto your face before you could stop it. Sensing that he made a mistake, Jungwon panicked. Waving his arms in front of him as though to disperse the air of his previous question, he shot you an extremely nervous smile. “Sorry! Ignore that, please.” Biting down on his lip, he opened his mouth again, “Meet me at the rink tomorrow? At two? I’ll book it so we’re alone.”

You stared at him in disbelief, jaw slightly agape. Before you could answer, you noticed some movement outside the door, which had been cracked open a smidge. Narrowing your eyes, you made contact with the rest of Jungwon’s teammates. Jungwon’s gaze followed your line of sight, his neutral expression dropping into mild disappointment when he realized they had been listening the whole time.

“Guys…” Jungwon started, peeved that your conversation had been interrupted. You could hear them swear at getting caught, immediately running off before they could genuinely face Jungwon’s wrath. You stifled a laugh at their odd behaviour, glancing up at Jungwon. He sighed heavily, shoulders deflating slightly as he dropped his head into one hand. The tips of his ears seemed red, although you noted it might be from the cool air coming into the room.

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©WONLOVIE please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

[is-she-suffering]

The Purple House

In 1993 Katie Jane Garside infamously suffered a very public mental breakdown. Tired of being in the spotlight, viciously mocked by some journalists and not allowed to express herself through her own lyrics, Katie Jane left Daisy Chainsaw and disappeared for several years. She described reasons for going away in THIS interview. She spent that time in a few different places, hiking in Lake District area, experiencing paranormal activity in an old Welsh cottage, before coming back to music for a short tour with Test Department (as well as recording guest vocals for their Totality album). Finally, she moved back to London, where she accidentally bumped into Crispin Gray, which resulted in duo deciding to start working together again, this time as Queen Adreena. However, the most extraordinary sounding and somewhat mythologised was the year when Garside lived in Lake District, in certain colorful house, with a an elder lady helping her to recover mentally. In various interviews Katie Jane mentioned she spent that time walking, screaming into wind, as well as writing poetry and lyrics.

Katie Jane: It’s magical, I lived with a woman called Varya V. in a house called The Purple House.  At the time I had no idea, but Ted Hughes had lived there.  I had no idea, I lived there with Varya and a young couple who were about to have a baby and one other young man… I was there to meditate.  I was recording more of that “primal scream of consciousness” with the idea that I was gonna make it all into a record.

So that was a very verdant and beautiful time, and then I came back to London to make that into a record.  I had little detour with Test Department.  That was a fun time, I could be a cog in machine rather than having to front something. It was so different, I wasn’t “important” at all, I use that word with quotation marks.

What's interesting is that Queenadreena's fans were able to track that house. The early 00's Katie Jane fansite called Room 11 even had a picture in their gallery. If you google the name, you can find quite a bit of info about the house, the extraordinary landlady and some of the guests that once lived there.

Cumbria’s famous Purple House was located near Rigg Beck, a stream in Lake District’s Newslands Valley. It was built in 1881 and at first served as hotel.

The place was bought for £500 by Varya Vergauwen in 1950's.  She provided lodging to unemployed, struggling actors, writers, singers and other lost souls. Varya Vergauwen, also known as Varya Vee, was a sculptor, a member of Bloomsbury Group, and rumoured to be a "witch". She was married to a captain and raised 10 of her kids in the Purple House. 

This isolated place served as a sanctuary to many artists. Keswick’s Blue Box theatre performers, actor Bob Hoskins, actor Tom Courtenay, comedienne Victoria Wood and even poets Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath had all stayed at Rigg Beck.

The house was apparently full of weird artifacts like stuffed fox, a harmonium, guestbooks including Ted Hughes penned poem and alcohol and food ration packets with expiry dates reaching times before WWII. The comment on one of the blogs mentions a lot of stuffed animals standing and collecting dust... Who knows, maybe that was in part the inspiration behind Queen Adreena's Taxidermy album name?

By the time Garside moved there, the house was already in a very bad condition. You can find several related stories of former inhabitants online. If you read THIS account, it will give you an idea how the house looked in the 90's. For the long time, it had no electricity at all. It's interesting that even despite these harsh conditions, most of available accounts paint the Purple House stay as one of the most magical moments in their lives:

(...) Rigg Beck was becoming dilapidated, and Varya hated spending money. By the time I was lured from London in 1985, the house was on its last legs. When you opened the front door, the smell of cabbage and dry rot wafted out. We few, we happy few, were unemployed, underemployed, fully employed, but above all poor, and the last of the hippies. It was a good time to be high in the hills in that strange house, and I have never again felt so free from the cares of the world.

Katie Jane: I was there for about a year, long enough to see the seasons come and go. It’s a really extraordinary place (…) I always loved to go there and walked in the mountains with my family and just adored it and one day, I met a man who took me there, he said he thought I’d like it. We just walked in and there was extraordinary things there just very strange art and decrepitude and skulls of all different animals and the door was always open and it turned out that a woman, the maverick, lived there called Varya V. And the house was literally falling down, the roof was caving in and it had different floors. The top where the roof was caving in was the winter floor and below that was the autumn floor. I lived on the summer floor and then there was a spring floor in the basement, that’s where Varya lived and I met her and said, “Can I come and live with you” and she gave me a room which was utterly completely infested with mice and rats. Anytime you turned the light up at night, they’d just come alive and yeah, the house had just really gone back to nature, really. It was being taken back by the land, but it was utterly beautiful and everything was so filthy and I had a sleeping bag. There was a made-up bed there, but I think the sheets on it hadn’t been changed for like ten years or more or something, so, I chose not to sleep in those sheets. There was no hot water or anything like that and yeah, I lived there and it was just beautiful and I’d just walk in the mountains and find my voice there. 

KJ: After Daisy Chainsaw, which as you pointed out, was quite a ride, for one so young there was a lot of pressure and lots of world tours and burn out and lots of shaving heads and I was toured-out! They told me they wanted me to do another world tour and I was like, “Well, I don’t think I’ve got another world tour in me, right now.” So, I stepped away and yeah, went up with the intention of recording me singing against waterfalls and avalanches and the walk in the mountains and I recorded loads of it. Actually, I recorded loads of stuff to portable DAT tapes and the plan was to cut it all together and make that a record but I never got around to it. I have the DATs somewhere, maybe one day, and I’ll sooner find out what happened in the mountains, but I never did that stage of the journey, but I did wander for extensive days and nights screaming into the sky and it was just a really beautiful place and one day, it was done and I said goodbye to Varya and I took my little car and drove back to London and sometime after that, I found out Crispin had moved into the area and after a long, long journey, we started putting another band together and that became Queenadreena.

At some point, Varya moved to Kendal. She died at the age of 90 somewhere around early 2010s. Afterwards, The Purple House would stay abandoned and slowly decaying for years (now only frequented by squatters, bats and ghosts hunters) up until it burned down on June 30, 2008. There were (fruitless) talks about possible restoration, but the house was bought in 2007 and then lost in the fire just a year later. Rigg Beck was rebuilt after the fire, but currently standing building looks nothing like the original (trust me, it just looks bad) and many believe the fire was spread intentionally.

KJG: It was burnt down on purpose because it had a rare breed of bats living in the falling-down roof but whoever bought the land had always planned to knock it down but they were unable to take the house down because it was protected, you know. Anyway, it was, one day, mysteriously burned down, so, I suspect sabotage. Obviously, I have no proof of that.

 There's more to find about the Rigg Beck online, from accounts of living in a dilapidated house to info on Varya's life to ghost stories. You can read some memories here:

After I finished writing this post, i managed to find photographs showing how the house looked inside in 2007. In abandoned state. It's a mess, but you can see a lot of the items mentioned in these online accounts!

Other photo sources:

www.beautifulrailwaybridgeofthesilverytay.wordpress.com/

www.bbc.co.uk/cumbria/content/image_galleries/purple_house_gallery.shtml?4

www.flickr.com/photos/exacta2a/5520785794

www.facebook.com/groups/ilovethelakedistrict/posts/10159745314398072/

Katie interview:

www.pleasekillme.com/katie-jane-garside/?fbclid=IwY2xjawIjLcFleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHaul_dHjj48B6SGrSrZNW8lXmPQF3NbogAKgXGFXhW5siRer4PH1znRHVQ_aem_oXPza_bnyJzUrIi5XmKzhg

[jesterooo]

Oh my god this one was a struggle anyways YAYAYAYAYAYYAYAYAYAYA

SHE HAS RISEN BABY GIRL (ANYWAYS LMAFO-)

Story under the cut!

Chapter 3

Word count 2692

Warnings Blood & gore mentions (briefly also lamb looses his head for a moment)

It was early in the morning, having been walking for what felt like days, Lambert sighed as the bishops followed behind them.

“Are we there yet?” Leshy asked for the ninth time,

“Nope….” Heket coughed,

Leshy just groaned, the trees slowly beginning to part from one another, the daylight peaking between tree bark

“We’ve gone through Darkwood, Anura, Anchordeep… how much longer until we get to this forsaken bridge…” Narinder groaned, Shamura just shrugged

“I don't ever remember a bridge being this way…” Shamura hummed, a brow raised

“It’s too bright.” Narinder huffed, adjusting the veil they wore under the hood,

“You’ll live.” Leshy spoke, walking directly into a tree

Narinder laughed and Lambert just groaned

“Stop laughing! that hurt!” Leshy huffed, hand grabbing at his own face,

“You’ll live.” Narinder chuckled as they continued walking

The wind was cool and the sun bright, a perfect morning as usual.

Lambert stopped dead in his track, squinting forward, putting a hand out in front of Narinder since he was directly in front of the cat.

“...What is…?” Heket murmured, grabbing Leshy by the scruff of his neck.

“Looks like a pole.” Kallamar hummed, unamused

Lambert walked forward, out of the shade of the tree’s examining the pole,

The only thing ahead of them was the ocean, standing on a large cliff with death beneath them.

“...huh…” Narinder raised a brow, peaking over the cliff, grabbing what remained of a rope, knots tied in it with pieces of wood hanging off,

the rope itself was coated in a patchy blue substance, worn away with time.

“...How are we supposed to cross that?” Lambert wondered aloud,

Shamura hummed, “Unsure…” Placing their hand on the side of the remaining pole

A chorus sang aloud, the winds howling along

“Everyone step back!” Lambert spoke, pushing everyone back, running back into the shaded safety of the trees as a blue light shone through, expanding and twisting into a large swirling sphere,

a large stick came through from the otherside,

“Everyone grab on!” shouted a familiar voice,

Lambert grabbed on to the stick, reaching out for the bishops as they all practically formed a rope, hands held as the stick dragged them through the portal

they all landed on the cold hard ground with an “OOMPH!”

Lamb shook his head from side to side, helping everyone pick themselves up

Kidd stood up, laughing at the group as he dusted himself off

“Told ya I’d meet y’all on the other side.” Kidd smiled,

Lambert looked behind himself, the waves crashing below, that same broken bridge… just this time marked in red, the sun setting off in the distance.”

“...Huh.” Narinder spoke, wiping the dirt and dust off of his white robes.

“I don't think I’ve seen a place like this before…?” Shamura hummed, looking around.

Kidd climbed on top of the pole, “Welcome one and all to The Holy Isle!” They spoke, waving their hands outward, their crown nowhere to be seen.

“Wait… where's your crown?” Lambert pointed to Kidd’s baren head.

“Oooh, I had to leave it with Madame, which is also why I could only meet you guys halfway.”

“Oh? Wait how does you only meeting us halfway have to-” Lambert spoke as Kidd just groaned, bending forward,

to the shock of the other’s, his torso slid from off of his spine, different organs hanging out of the holes between his body.

“That is why.” Kid coughed, using his hands to stand up as his lower half jumped off the pole, bending over to pick the rest of him back up.

“Let me just make sure everything is in order-” Kidd spoke, Kallamar just gagged,

“Yup, all goo- is he okay?” Kidd asked, pointing as Kallamar just ran off,

“...He gets sick easily.” Lamb shrugged,

“You should totally do that again when he comes back.” Narinder grinned,

“...Sometimes I remember there is something seriously wrong with you.” Kidd huffed, looking at Narinder.

Before anyone could say a thing, giggles rang out from every direction, Kallamar walking back to the group by now,

Kidd just groaned, a blade hurled towards him as he ducked, instead catching it’s way through the Lamb’s neck, head falling off cleanly as the giggles quickly stopped,

“Ooooh, She’s gonna be mad at you~” Kidd giggled, picking up Lambert’s head and putting it back on his shoulders,

Lambert mumbled a thank you as Kidd stared off into the dark woods, two pairs of eyes gleaming between the shadows of leaves.

“You need to work on your aim.” Narinder spoke bluntly, Lambert just scoffed.

“Brother, promise not to tell!” One of the voices called out, soft like the grass beneath everyone’s feet.

Kidd just groaned, “Both of you, out here now.” speaking in a serious tone.

Two figures jumped out of the trees, kits barely smaller than the lamb that stood in front of them,

One had a flower for an eye, a white and blue robe,

The other only had a large scar in place of their eye, wearing a black and blue robe instead

“Lambert and co. meet Maria and Olavi.” Kidd spoke, “Maria is the one in the white, Olavi in the black.” Kidd huffed,

Lambert waved at the two, Maria just smiled, waving back as Olavi scoffed at the lamb.

“Hm…” Narinder hummed, raising a brow at the duo, a familiar sense in his mind.

“You two, I will promise not to tell Madame what you did, under two conditions.” Kidd spoke, bending to the two’s height as best he could.

“Yes sir!”

“Fine.” the duo chimed

“Don't tell her I brought friends here, and two, take us to The Feaster.” Kidd hummed, standing up straight.

“Deal!” Maria shook on it without another word, causing her sister to just look at her like the idiot she was.

“Who’s… The Feaster?” Heket asked,

“Madame’s youngest sibling, the one who will be most likely able to get all of us in a room together.” Kidd spoke, motioning for everyone to follow after the twin kits.

“He’s also the best cook!” Maria hummed, remembering a meal of old times,

“As well as the stupidest.” Olavi mumbled, “His temple is not far from here.”

The wind was cold, blowing against the grass and trees,

Everything felt so… familiar, yet so different at the same time.

The wet, muddy dirt squashed beneath the groups feet, Narinder held up his robe as not to stain it, the others following suit, except Leshy, he didn't seem to care much

rain began to patter down upon the group, everyone basically running through the mud and rain, Kallamar grabbing Leshy’s hand so he wouldn't be left behind.

What felt like hours passed of running through before a soft golden light could be seen in the distance, fire.

“Come! we are not far!” Maria spoke, running off into the distance with her sister

They eventually caught up to the small kits, who of which knocked on the large stone doors of the temple, deep blue tapestries hanging from the windows, flowing against the storm,

Footsteps approached the door, a deep chuckle responding to conversation.

“Who disturbs?” Spoke the deep voice, the door wide open,

A large toad, the size of a god stood before the group,

“Ah! Sister’s messengers! Come in, come in!” Spoke the toad,

“Actually- Maria and I shall be making our leave.” Olavi spoke, grabbing her sister by the hood,

“Can't even stay for a snack?” The toad rose a brow, the three pointed crown atop his head mimicking the expression,

“No sir…” Maria sighed, “She is expecting us home I believe.”

“Ah… well tell her I said hello!” The toad croaked, motioning for the others to come inside.

“Ahh… so warm.” Leshy murmured,

The toad closed the door behind them, walking into a seperate room, “Come on guys.” Kidd spoke, signaling for them all to follow the toad.

Heket just hummed, amused by the large toad’s hospitality.

“Now, Sister’s messenger, why are thoust here?” Spoke the toad, eyeballing the lamb with curiosity, “Why haven't this one been brought to Sister’s Haven?” He spoke, raising a brow and pointing to Lambert,

Kidd bowed to the large toad,

“Great Feaster, we wish to hold a feast.” Kidd hummed, the toad just chuckled, “For why little goat?”

“To settle a holy feud.” Kidd admitted, a nervous look on their face.

The toad just laughed, “Truly that?” They smirked, “A cruel fate for you friend.” He stood, “I will inform her of your foolishness.”

Lambert sighed, clearing his throat, “Dearest feaster!” Lambert spoke up, the toad raising a brow to the small creature, “Mortal Lamb… cease this noise.” The toad rolled his eyes.

“I am no mortal.” Lambert spoke, voice blunt as the Toad raised a brow,

“A god divine such as yourself should recognize a crown when seen, should they not?” Lambert spoke, narrowing their eyes as the Toad gasped,

“...The red crown!?” They pointed, “Truly they are gone… aren't they?” He sighed, looking at the small lamb before him, silence filled the room louder than words

“...what of Bishop Heket?” He asked bluntly, a simple question.

“Hm?” Lamber raised a brow, “What of her is important to you?”

The toad sighed, crouching before the table the group stood on,

“She an olden friend of mine, too long since we shared a good wine.” He spoke,

Heket just coughed softly, tapping her foot against the flooring as Lambert and Kidd shared a glance,

Lambert looked to Heket, nodding to her as the toad raised a brow,

Heket stepped forward, standing beside the two, removing her hood slowly before looking up to the large toad, his eyes wide as he stared.

Heket coughed slightly, her voice hoarse, “Hello…. Barley….”

Barley squealed like an excited pig, staring at his friend once more,

“Truly that isn't you?!” He smiled, “You are but the size of a baby now!” Heket just laughed at his words.

“Rest of ye, remove thy hoods, I believe to know whomst the rest are!” Barley shouted, his eyes twinkling with anticipation as the rest removed their hoods, Narinder letting out a small hiss at the sight of how bright the room was.

“The old faith!” He squealed once more, “Child you little liar!” Barley spoke in a playful tone, “They are not dead! they are in front of mine eyes!”

“We… ahem.” Heket coughed, Barley raised a brow,

“Hold, allow me to get a refreshment.” Barley ran off, cape flowing behind him.

“Drinking buddies eh?” Narinder chuckled, Heket just nodded,

“Good wine…. good friend…”

“I wasn't expecting this lot to still be around…” Narinder hummed, a smile on his face that Lamb pointed at,

“Oooh! someone's happy!” He joked, Narinder scoffed,

Barley returned, holding a glass of red wine in hand, handing it to Heket,

“Thank thy sister Eltha for the gift, should fix thy cough up for a while.” Barley spoke,

Heket chugged the whole cup, coughing slightly as she took a deep breath.

“Bleugh…. tastes like syrup.” She mumbled, the others shocked, herself included, grasping her mouth in surprise.

“Well- about that feast…” Heket hummed, looking up to Barley.

“Ooh! Yes oh yes!” He clapped like an excited child, “A dinner with friends!” He smiled.

“You all, Ethla and I!”

Kidd just sighed, “Great Feaster, all of you must be present.”

“Oh…” Barley huffed, a frown on his face

“Will that be an issue?” Heket asked, raising a brow as she looked at the blue toad.

“Perhaps… see Eltha and I share no grievances with you lot…” Barley began, “Alora and Persephone… to say minimum wish to see your heads in my next stew.” He huffed,

“...and what of life?” Narinder asked, raising a brow,

“She… has nay been seen since that day, by me at least.” Barley hummed, a soft look in his eyes,

“Since what day?” Shamura asked, Narinder frowned, a confused look in his eyes as well

“The day deemed as ‘The day Death no longer wished to wait’.” Kidd spoke, glaring at Narinder,

Everyone fell silent as Barley nodded, wiping his eyes, “Only the infant messenger appears now…” He spoke, motioning to Kidd, getting a shocked expression out of Narinder

Heket just glared at her brother, “How many lives did you ruin that day brother?” She hummed,

Narinder just growled, turning his gaze to his sister, clenching his fists as he stared at Heket,

"I KNOW I DID NOT DO ANYTHING TO HER!" Narinder shouted, thrusting his arms out to the side, scaring everyone just a tad

Heket just rolled her eyes, “Sure.” She mumbled,

Narinder went to argue, Lambert just silenced him with a snap of his fingers.

“The two of you, now is not the time.” Lambert sighed, looking up to Barley, “Feaster, would it be possible to have a feast at her temple?” Lambert hummed,

Barley thought about it for a moment, “Come.” He spoke, motioning for them all to follow

They all walked into a large room, a brazier in the middle, “Find somewhere to sit.”

Barley stood opposite to the group, the brazier in front of him and in between him and the others.

“She who guides the lost, brings light to the dark and creation owes her their lives, speak to me dear sister.” He chanted softly, the brazier lighting a teal flame, slowly shaping into the figure of a cat… similar to that of Narinder.

“Dear sister!” Barley spoke, excitement in his voice, “it is good to speak to you yet again!”

“What do you want?” She spoke, her voice uncaring and uninterested in the small talk.

“I was wondering… mayhaps we could have a feast in your tem-”

“No.” The ethereal voice spoke, “I care not for such… silly things anymore, I thought you got that through your ever thickening skull?” the head of the teal flame tilted, Narinder raised a brow, mumbling to himself

“Ah-! but- Sister dear!” Barley spoke, coughing slightly, “The vessel of the red crown wishes to speak with you, in person!”

“You DARE suggest I allow a heretic of the old faith into my home?!” The voice from the flame shouted,

“No- No!” Barley sighed, “He is but a wee lamb! A friend of your messenger!”

There was silence, not a word.

the head of the flame seemingly looking off to the side as a loud sigh rang through the room,

“and she called me stupid for believing a silly prophecy…” The voice on the other end laughed,

“Bring me the lamb, I have been waiting for a conversation with his vessel.”

“Yes sister.” Barley spoke, grabbing a stool for the lamb so he could reach the brazier,

The lamb took a deep breath, stepping up to the brazier, all hope in his heart sinking as the flame merely laughed at him,

“Truly? You are the sacrificial lamb turned infant god?” The flame smiled, “Why is it you wish to speak with life herself.”

Lambert took a deep breath, “I wish to settle this feud between The Holy Isle and The Old Faith.”

The flame just laughed at him, “Ohoho! Ohhh boy… That just made my day!” She laughed, Lambert frowning,

“Tell me child, was this your idea or Kidd’s?” She hummed, the figure’s head tilting once more,

“Both of ours.” Lambert spoke truthfully, hands held behind their back.

“You knew him, did you not?” The figure shifted slightly, closer to the lamb now, Lambert raised a brow, confused,

“...Who?” Lambert asked, tilting his head slightly,

“The original bearer of that crown you now wear upon your brow, How are they?”

“Uh…” Lambert mumbled, glancing to Narinder

“I was told he had died, by your hand none the less… if you can prove otherwise, I will consider your sweet little settlement.” She spoke, voice echoing through the room,

“DEAL!” Lambert spoke, holding a hand to the fire before quickly withdrawing it, “Whoops… can’t exactly shake hands with fire…” Lambert chuckled nervously, getting a laugh out of the flames, “Child… stand back a bit.” She spoke

Lambert scooted the stool back a few inches, watching as a hand made of ivory colored bones reached out, getting a gasp out of almost everyone in the room,

“Let’s shake on it.”

[nervedpowderkeg]

Knight Forms!

I am struggling. 🥲

There are six concepts I’ve come up with for Trinity’s eventual Knight Form in The Knight’s Handbook, four if I want to be real with you but here we go.

Concepts One and Five is based off the mouthful known as the “1798 Prescribed Marine Uniform.” Worn during the US-Mediterranean Barbary Wars in the early 1800s, Marines (center) were the main force onshore wearing blue over red. As for Marine Line Musicians or The President’s Own (Right), they wore the inverse to denote themselves of their role.

The United States Marine during the Barbary Wars distinguished themselves as a formidable force, being the main source of on-land victories across the southern Mediterranean.

Concepts Two and Six, it is the equally mouthful named “1805 Prescribed Marine Uniform.” Worn by Marines during the War of 1812, color palette remained the exact same as its 1798 counterpart, both Lineman (Center) and Musician (Right).

Trinity wearing either Lineman PMU is completely in-character for her recent history as Marines during both wars mentioned and the war she served in were… let’s say unhinged. Wearing a Musician PMU may seem weird as nothing music-related has appeared… and that’s because I forgot to mention she was the wind player in her quartet. Fife? Piccolo? Flute? I’ll get back to that.

Concept Three was of Native American origin— specifically the Peoria Tribe, the last Indigenous group of the Illinois Confederation before they were relocated to now Oklahoma. I actually struggled the most with this concept, as I didn’t have much to go off on, and references to traditional Peoria clothing were not easy to find.

The Illinois Confederation was a nation of multiple Indigenous Tribes living in and around modern-day Illinois. The Peoria was one of the Nation’s five major tribes, and also the last tribe of the Illini to be evicted in 1832 to Oklahoma.

Finally, Concept Four. Going back to The Knight’s Handbook itself, one image from the masterpost examples looked really good in my opinion (look at that cloak!), and thus the example shown became the example used. I might be able to slide this in as her first Knight Form before she changed it, if that’s even possible. But I still like this example design and I don’t want to throw it.

Elmushterri’s The Knight’s Handbook is a story revolving around the aftermath of a tragic event in the parallel world of Gallantia, which houses Knights who’ve sacrificed their lives for someone else’s back on Earth. Behind the Scenes, Elmushterri is a fencer in the Historical European Martial Arts society, and wanted to bring something adjacent over.

—————————————————————————

In the words of Ignis ArmA Corp Logistics Division; (Logistical Anguish). I like all of these designs, I just can’t choose. This is why Trinity doesn’t have a Knight Form yet, because I have too many thoughts in my darn head! I wanna do this but I can’t so all I can do is just vent.

It is frustrating. I’ve been advised to try and blend outfits together, but that’s just another can of worms, and something I would just… not.

[thefallenrose]

the group shared stories of their past, the stuff that had happened before the war, primis Nikolai spoke about his wife and the times that they shared together. Dempsey talked about missions he had been on. The ultimis crew talked about their adventure to the moon with such fondness, they seemed to ignore all of the bad parts that had happened with it.

Edward leaned against Takeo's chest and held his hands which were wrapped around his midsection, it felt nice, he felt safe. Samantha was also leaning against Takeo, the only difference was that she had fallen asleep.

"Hey doc, do you have any stories you want to share?" Dempsey asked.

Edward took a moment, trying to search his memory for a story which didn't bring back an awful reminder of events that had long since passed but everything had came back negative so he shook his head "Nein... not ones that I wish to share."

He paused again "None of the memories I can think about are pleasant, especially some of the more recent ones." he felt a need to explain himself.

"You know doc, i am still curious about what happened back in that factory place. When we-" he paused before correcting himself "When you found us, you were hurt, you never explained it, you also left us to go somewhere."

The fire crackled softy and leaves rustled in the wind as a strong breeze went past, everyone waited for an answer. his grip on Takeo's hand grew tighter and he held it closer to his chest.

"I-" he sighed "right... I had been in the middle of preparing for the journey, jumping through time and space, when he had brought me to the factory almost 3 years early."

His throat felt dry and he struggled to swallow properly, he didn't know if he actually wanted to tell them or if it was just guilt of them not knowing which made him start explaining everything.

"During those 3 years, I was tortured for information, experimented on and I almost died a few times." he added. "Samantha helped me through it just by being there, it was only a small price to pay..."

he started to bite his lip, he peeled the top layer off slowly as he talked, it nerves grew with each word he told them. His grip on Takeo had been released in favour of picking at his nails.

The group sat in silence for a long while, then Takeo began to speak up "Ed... why didn't you tell me about this?"

He didn't answer, he refused to look any of them in the eyes.

[starlightwayfinder]

*Shuffles in quietly* I would like to offer more sad ideas about the Union Leaders.

With the upcoming Missing Link game my head is full of brainrot (heh) and I'm just . . . so sad for our resident goth cowboy so if you'll allow me.

Brain never forgives himself for what he sees as failing all his friends. He promised to save them and in the end they all get separated, he has no idea what happens to 4 of them but poor Ephemer was forced to rebuild keyblade society alone. Brain was his right hand man and he failed his leader. None the less he's determined to get more work done to lighten the load for future generations.

While Brain struggles to move on in life he does manage to find some semblance of normalcy and sees his lost friends all around him. He see Ephemer in the stone and bricks in Scala's foundation, sees him in the streetlights and in the pretty silver haired girl that is his descendent. Marrying her is one of the few bright spots of his current predicament and sometimes Brain swears late at night he can hear his old friends laugh.

Brain feels Lauriam's strong but gentle presence every morning at the start of dawn, when the world is still awash in dark but the light slowly creeps in promising the start to a new day. Brain also never forgives himself for not helping Lauriam more with finding his sister. He hopes he found her and they're finally together.

He sees Skuld in all the new keyblade wielders trying to find their place in the world. Skuld was in many ways the peacekeeper of their group and she always had their wellbeing in mind just as much as the dandelions. Brain didn't realize how much he relied on her strength until she wasn't there, those early days grappling with likely never seeing her again were some of the hardest.

And lastly Brain sees Ven in his beloved grandson. The two are so similar, sweet little boys full of kindness and earnest, it almost hurts to look at him some days. There was the one time the wind picked up his hat and Eraqus was able to reclaim it he brought the hat back and he smiled in such a ventus way Brain nearly fell to his knees. But before Eraqus could worry too much Brain grabbed the hat and placed it on his head but pulled it down enough to cover the little boy's eyes just like he did to ven, even their giggles sound the same. And at night when he kisses his grandson goodnight and says I love you, he's silently hoping against hope his words reach ventus across time and hopes above all else he's alive and safe.

It's many years later when Eraqus meets Ven that he feels a strange sense of familiarity. He remembers his grandfather's stories of his lost friends and how he reminded him of the youngest. So full of light and gentle as the wind he gets the strangest feeling if his grandfather were here he and ven would get along quite well. He's not sure if he can live up to his grandfather but he'll still try if only to relieve the poor man's pain even at the end of his life.

And yet Eraqus knows just like Brain before him he ultimately failed

*motioning for you to sit by the fire*

You’re always welcome to share your sad ideas here Anon. 

Brain must have so many feelings about his lost friends.. I can definitely imagine Brain wishing he could’ve been there to help build Scala with Ephemer. He’s so proud of his friend, but it still hurts knowing Eph did so much on his own.

And of course he’d regret not having the time to help Lauriam find Strelitzia. Or to help any of the other lost Dandelions, for that matter. 

Mhm, Skuld was a great peacekeeper/mediator within the Union leaders. And it’s so uncertain what happened to her… I’m sure Brain worries that he failed to help her survive.

That part about Eraqus and Ven… You’re going to make me cry! I love imagining Eraqus spending time with his grandfather… but his playful personality is so similar to Ven’s, no wonder it would bring back memories.. And the idea of Brain telling Eraqus stories about them…! 💔

[aquadestinyswriting]

Fight or Flight

Summary: Having lost one battle already, Meredith and friends are being transported back to Toreguarde. Unfortunately one member of the opposition sees fit to make sure they never make it back

Words: 775

Tags: @druidx, @sparrow-orion-writes , @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @mariahwritesstuff, @writeblrsupport, @ashirisu, @thesorcerersapprentice, @blind-the-winds, @philosophika, @the-down-upside-finch @flashfictionfridayofficial

Warnings: bodily harm tw, fire tw, character death tw

Notes: First person POV. Based on one of the very early sessions of the campaign.

I grumble as I look out of the window of the carriage we’re trundling back to Toreguarde in. As much as I wanted to go back to drag Elowyn out of the cell she’s put herself in –bloody stupid woman. I shouldn’t have let her go on that ‘restroom break’ by herself – I really didn’t want to be chucked in with her. At least we’re, mostly, alive. Though I have no idea what I’m going to tell Elowyn once we’re thrown in alongside her. It doesn’t exactly inspire much confidence in our ability to bust back out again given how easily we were forced to surrender.

Moradin’s balls, the manacles on my wrists are too tight. I grumble some more and open my mouth to complain at the road warden trotting alongside, when I feel the window on the opposite side slide open. The face of our betrayer pops into view, his expression dark. 

“You made your choice.” He mutters before shattering the lit lantern closest to the window, causing the embers to catch the upholstery. So that’s how the little bastard wants to play it, is it? 

Luckily the roadwardens seem to be of the opinion that the carriage being on fire is a problem since we immediately stop and calls go out for water. I cough as I watch Alponse shoulder the door in an attempt to get it open, but it doesn’t budge. I get up to assist, trying not to hack up my lungs as smoke fills the interior of the carriage. 

Flames erupt all around us with an angry roar. I feel a brief dampness on my back seconds before the fire catches onto my vestments and hair. I only barely catch an angry voice exclaiming something over the alarmed shouts and screams of my friends before I’m sent tumbling out of the suddenly open carriage door.

I roll in the damp grass, grateful that it wasn’t bone dry. Luckily, there’s enough moisture to put out the fire on my vestments before I can get too badly burned. I struggle to sit, just in time to see Stringwhiskers – the little ratman that had been following our group these last few weeks– crawl forward a few inches only to stop and lie utterly still. I freeze, my laboured breath catching in my throat. I gingerly lift the sleeve of my vestment to my nose. Lamp oil. 

That traitorous, lying, fespar, saagy, Beskur! I feel a surge of righteous fury build in my chest, but it starts to gutter as I look over to Lorcian. The half elf looks so broken as he gently picks up Stringwhisker’s body. He’s also fairly burnt himself. Perhaps fighting our way out of this isn’t the best idea? We’re outnumbered and I have no idea if the roadwardens are even in on what Daraja had planned.  Not to mention the fact that we had tried fighting earlier and lost. Badly. 

I make to stand only to tumble back to the floor, a searing pain flaring in my side as a crossbow bolt punches into my hip. Panic grips me and I do the only thing I can think of through the pain and roll to my knees and pray as hard as I can.

Moradin. Help me!

I feel a large surge of power move through the magical weave of the world, then hear a raspy cough and a groan. Hang on. I know that groan. I jerk up my head just in time to see the previously deceased, hulking form of Enezeage stir and sit up. The last vestiges of a golden radiance dimming as he comes back to the world of the living. I hear a second gasp not too far away and look over in time to see Alphonse stir and groggily sit up as well. I wait a moment, expecting to hear a third, only to be met with silence. My heart drops slightly, but I’m not about to complain. It’s miracle enough that Moradin saw fit to return Enezeage and, presumably, Alphonse to us. I look back to Enezeage, who’s already charging towards Daraja and the rangers he’d bought out to deal with us. I catch a glimpse of the back of a huge, stout figure clad in armour. My eyes go wide as the image of Moradin himself looks back at me and winks, before vanishing.

I don’t have time to truly process what just happened. More arrows and crossbow bolts fly in my direction, and several find their mark. Alright, so fight it is. As soon as I can wrangle my hands free to cast a bloody healing spell.

[randomvarious]

Today’s compilation:

Stand Up and Be Counted: Soul, Funk and Jazz from a Revolutionary Era 1999 Funk / Soul / Spoken-Word Poetry / Jazz

Today's an important history lesson, folks. I went back to a late 60s/early 70s era of US black revolutionary politics and awareness with this CD that was put out by UK label Harmless in '99. It's those pre-disco days when a lot of black-made music was politically righteous, with scathing lyrical critiques of a still racially unequal status quo, and carried poignant, urgent, and inspirational messages that would help to raise the consciousness among black folks nationwide, as well as anyone else who was willing to listen and learn. It was a time of riotous and fiery tumult, and while this release doesn't seem to fully encapsulate or present all the most prominent songs and musicians that ended up providing the soundtrack for this very volatile handful of pivotal years—where's Sly Stone?—it's still a phenomenal album.

This CD comes with fixtures you'd expect on a release like this: James Brown's "Say It Loud - I'm Black and I'm Proud," Nina Simone's "I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free," and perhaps the most iconic piece of spoken-word poetry that's ever been recorded, Gil Scott-Heron's "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised." Basically, if you're putting together an album that's trying to reflect the American black struggle from this specific time period, it'd be prudent to include this particular trio of songs.

But where this album truly shines is with its overwhelming majority of selections that aren't so obvious; songs that contain the same hunger and zeal for equality, but aren't as well known to a general audience. For example, The Last Poets, a spoken-word poetry trio whose early 70s pining for immediate revolution on their self-titled debut album would lay the foundation for the creation, development, and emergence of hip hop music and culture. Their song, "When the Revolution Comes," actually sparked a response from Gil Scott-Heron with "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised," and 22 years after its initial release, a repeated line towards the end of the song would find itself repurposed as the title of The Notorious B.I.G.'s debut single, "Party and Bullshit."

And also on here is a solo track from one of those Last Poets as well, Gylan Kain, whose 1970 song, "Loose Here," off of his debut LP, The Blue Guerrilla, was actually co-written by none other than the legend Nile Rodgers himself, earning him one of his first ever credits, long before he'd *really* break out with a pair of #1s on the disco tip in '78 and '79, with Chic's "Le Freak" and then "Good Times."

Truth be told, though, The Last Poets weren't actually as obscure as you may think that I might be making them out to be here; their debut album managed to sell over 350,000 copies, and it peaked at #29 on Billboard's 200 album chart, and #3 on R&B as well. It's just that, knowing about them was spread pretty much purely through word of mouth; there was certainly no big commercial engine that was driving their sales, and if you weren't black and didn't have your ears tuned to any of this sound, the likelihood that you'd catch wind of them was pretty low.

So, the most obscure song on this album, then, appears to be a funk tune from an anonymous group called The Pace-Setters, whose only ever release, a 1971 7-inch, sings the praises of social activist Jesse Jackson and his then-recently formed PUSH organization on its chugging a-side.

The rest of this CD's tunes are pretty much made up of brilliant funk, soul, and jazz entities—The Impressions, Billy Paul, Archie Shepp, and ex-Temptation Eddie Kendricks—but the album doesn't use any of their singles. All the choices are still terrific, however, especially Kendricks' "My People... Hold On," the slow, earthy, heartfelt, and mantric title track off of his 1972 sophomore album. Interestingly, the name of that album, though, actually chops off the "My" in "My People," suggesting that Motown imprint Tamla didn't want to potentially alienate any parts of its audience with such a transparent appeal to black pride and solidarity 🤔.

Another well-known group on this album is James Brown's former one, The Famous Flames, who are just credited as The Flames here. And as The Flames, they never released an album, but did put out a handful of singles, including this CD's title track, which lives up to the name of the group who made it (it's scorching!), and was produced by James Brown and released on his own label, People, in 1971.

And before I close out, I gotta mention Chicago jazz ensemble The Pharaohs too, because the penultimate track from their 1971 debut album, The Awakening, makes for a tremendous song, with astonishing traded leads between saxophone and guitar, and a constantly thick amount of busy backing behind it all as well. It would still be an amazing tune, even if it didn't have any kind of messaging to go along with it.

So, in sum, Stand Up and Be Counted is an incredible release. It really channels a very important few years of palpably churning American black fervor, and it includes some unforgettable all-timers too, but its real uniqueness is found in its many selections of non-singles, deep cuts, & relative obscurities. I really don't think you'll ever find another late 60s/early 70s black empowerment retrospective that's quite like this one here. A stunningly superb and authentic collection of tunes.

Highlights:

The Flames - "Stand Up and Be Counted" Gil Scott-Heron - "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" The Impressions - "Mighty Mighty (Spade and Whitey)" Billy Paul - "East" Mike James Kirkland - "Hang On in There" James Brown - "Say It Loud, I'm Black and I'm Proud, Parts 1 & 2" The Last Poets - "When the Revolution Comes" Pace-Setters - "Push on Jessie Jackson" Archie Shepp - "Blues for Brother George Jackson" Eddie Kendricks - "My People... Hold On" The Pharaohs - "Freedom Road" Kain - "Loose Here" Nina Simone - "I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free"

[ellakwatseraa]

My Mother Mountain, "Mt. Talamitam"

January, 2024

Mt. Talamitam, located in Nasugbu, Batangas, stands at approximately 630 meters above sea level.

It’s a popular destination for both novice and seasoned hikers, featuring a trail that is relatively easy to navigate, with an average ascent time of 2 to 2.5 hours to reach the summit.

A little story time somewhere in January, 2024..

I was invited by my colleague to join their overnight trip to Mt. Talamitam. Honestly, as someone who is overweight, I was initially hesitant about the idea. The thought of hiking felt intimidating—after all, even a simple long walk often leaves me catching my breath, so I couldn’t help but wonder how much more challenging a full hike might be for me.

But guess what? I eventually gave in! I let myself be persuaded by their words: "Kaya mo 'yan, it’s an easy trail and perfect for beginners." Well, I thought, let’s see how it goes...

JUMP-OFF SITE

Before starting our trail, we took a group photo at the jump-off point in Sitio Bayabasan, capturing the excitement and anticipation of the adventure ahead.

From the jump-off point, we walked for about 20 minutes to reach the trail’s starting point, where we paid an ecological fee of just ₱20 per person.

That wasn’t even the trail yet, and I was already tired! 😊 But hey, I’m here, so I might as well keep going. By the way, I brought my husband along since JP invited him too. It worked out perfectly—at least I’d have someone to support me, and I wouldn’t feel like I was holding back the rest of the group.

GOING UPHILL

The first hour was especially challenging for me. I had to carefully manage my body weight as the initial part of the trail was slightly uphill. I also had to watch my step closely—one wrong move, and I could’ve easily ended up tumbling into the bushes. Lol!

This was just the first hour of the trail, and my knees were already begging for mercy!

The good thing was that we weren’t part of any organized group since this was a DIY hike. That meant we had the freedom to take breaks whenever we needed to without feeling rushed.

This was our first official rest after about an hour of uphill trekking. Along the trail, there were several resting spots where we took breaks for 15 to 20 minutes each, capturing pictures of the stunning scenery as we made our way to the top.

HERE ARE MORE PHOTOS FROM OUR HIKE!

At this point, it was mostly long walks until we reached the spot for pitching our tents. As I mentioned earlier, the first hour was the toughest for me due to the uphill climb, but hey, I made it here! This section was mostly walking, and I must say, this shot turned out to be one of my favorite group photos. Although I fell behind a bit, catching my breath now and then, the people ahead of me were all seasoned hikers—definitely not first-timers! Haha.

Nakakawala ng pagod ang view!

TENT PINTCHING AREA

We finally reached a spot where we could truly relax, as we’d be staying here overnight. We pitched our tents and settled in for the night, knowing that everyone planned to trek to the peak early the next morning.

When we arrived, we first had lunch, and some of us grabbed sodas to quench our thirst before heading to the spot where we would pitch our tents. There’s a Sari-Sari store in the area where hikers can grab quick snacks if they didn’t bring their own. They also offer cup noodles and rice meals, though the options are limited. But yes, you can definitely survive here overnight. There are also restrooms available, with a fee of Php 5.00 for pee and Php 10.00 for, well, the other one.

Mike and I definitely struggled with pitching our tent. Not only was it our first time setting one up, but the wind was absolutely intense! It was so strong that my husband almost got blown away! *oa*

By around 1 PM, we were all settled in and finally had some time to relax after the long trek. Mike went for a quick nap, while my friends and I spent the time chatting and taking photos.

As the sun began to set, the wind picked up, and it became so strong that my clothes couldn’t keep up. I had to layer on two sets of clothing and wrap myself in a blanket. From Ella to Elsa in an instant!

We had dinner around 7 PM, followed by some fun games. The night felt slow, but we definitely enjoyed every moment of it!

GOOD MORNING, TALAMITAM!

This was the next morning, foggy with a chilly breeze. The night before was unbearable for me; it was so cold that it felt like I was shivering with a high fever. Seriously, it was that intense!

Nevertheless, the view was absolutely breathtaking, and soon after, we headed to have breakfast. We had pancit canton, eggs, and coffee at the store. The prices were a bit steep, considering the location and the fact that the locals have to bring everything up from the base, but it was understandable.

Soon after, some of the peeps were already preparing for their trek to the peek.

THE PEAK

As for the rest of us, we stayed at the tent area. My legs were already swollen, and I could hardly walk normally due to the strain from yesterday’s trek. The thought of going through the same hike when we head back down made me wish I could just fly home instead!

They stayed at the peak for at least 30 minutes and took some amazingly good photos!

On our way back to the starting point, I felt incredibly proud of myself for conquering this trek—my "mother mountain"! Hiking was never something I imagined myself doing, but with a great circle of friends, I made it through!

GOING BACK TO JUMP-OFF SITE

SIDE TRIP

Batis. If you have some extra time, you can take a quick dip on the opposite side of the stream, where the water is cleaner—though there were some people doing laundry there. However, we didn’t have much time left, so we had to head back as quickly as possible since we planned to have lunch at a bulalohan in Mahogany Market, Tagaytay.

After nearly two hours from the tent-pitching site, we finally reached the jump-off point!

Thank you for making it to the bottom! Now, let me share some "Must-Know" tips for your next visit to Mt. Talamitam.

HOW TO GET THERE BY:

To reach Sitio Bayabasan in Brgy. Aga, Nasugbu, Batangas from Imus, Cavite: Commute: From Imus, look for buses bound for Nasugbu. The fare is approximately ₱150 but less than ₱200, and the journey takes about 2 hours. If you're coming from different City, you may simply search for Bus Terminals that has Nasugbu trips. Private Vehicles: Mt. Talamitam jump off point is Wazeable.

EXPENSES:

Bus Fare: ₱300 (for round trip, back and forth) Food: ₱300 per person (This should be enough if you bring your own snacks, but it will add weight during the hike. You might want to pack some canned goods and cup noodles, but there are also food and supplies available at the store uphill.) Additional Expenses: Bring extra money for any optional purchases or needs during your stay, it's always good to have a little extra on hand just in case.

WHAT YOU NEED TO BRING:

Sunscreen Arm sleeves Water (It can get pricey if you keep buying at the store, so it's best to bring your own) Powerbank Extra clothes Toiletries & Hygiene Kit (if staying overnight) Medicine Extra money (for emergencies or additional expenses)

TAKEAWAYS

There’s always a first time for everything, and there’s no harm in giving it a try. I’m incredibly proud of myself for conquering my first hiking journey! Sure, my body is sore, but the memories and experiences I gained along the way were totally worth it.

God didn’t just create these mountains to protect us; they’re also a gift for us to explore and appreciate His magnificent creation!

I can't wait for my second trek, hoping, but not entirely sure. Lol!

[hannahstocks]

I’m swimming towards a sandbar, wondering when it will end. Stroking through jelly fish, getting tangled in seaweed and having to empty my googles repeatedly, I wondered ‘how would I feel if I just got out, stopped swimming and got out?’

If there was ever the time to be adaptable, today was the day.

5am alarm. Canvas above our heads with a sky full of stars above that. Small pockets of light darting from each tent, silhouettes inside glowing red as the early risers began their morning routines. I ate porridge with tepid water whilst willing my morning poo to arrive. Walking out of the campsite, the sun was beginning to climb, an orange strip on the horizon. 

The streets still sleepy as we walked to the starting line.

The wind felt strong and cold as it blew on the surface of the water, looking out felt ominous.

I felt a mixture of nerves and excitement, anticipation for what the day would hold.  

I’d felt a dip in my energy levels the day before and it had been playing on my mind whether it would effect the swims.

We gathered round, half dressed in our wetsuits, half not; whispers circulating about the state of the jelly fish, the words ‘as thick as soup’ weren’t encouraging.

There had been talk the day before at our initiation swim to be responsive to the ever changing conditions, this challenge due to its location was notorious for not quite being ‘what it says on the tin’.

The safety boats arrived back on the beach and as we huddled around it was confirmed that swimming through the ‘soup of jelly fish’ would not be advised and that we would start at the finish line, flipping the route.

We walked in rolled down wetsuits and robes. The sun shone.  The sweat followed closely after.  Watching fellow swimmers pealing layers off simultaneously as I did the same. 

I walked beside a man and our conversation flowed easily, from pleasantries at first before finding our way onto the subject of fear, it felt very poignant and mapped out. Something we all struggle with but don’t talk about. He would go on to tell me about leaving his profession as a lawyer to write a book and facilitate workshops on the subject matter.  It felt really quite profound and it stayed with me.  As we naturally drifted away from each other, it was also a realisation of the beauty of a moment in time, having no obligation for nothing more or anything less.  Dipping out and not seeing him again with nothing lost, just a gain, and a new book to add to my wish list.

After about 45 minutes we opened out onto a beach on the other side of St Marys, at the end of the route, but right at the beginning.

I felt the sun on my face as we started to get ready, handing our bags over to the boat crew ready for the first leg. A few days before I’d developed quite a deep gash at the back of my neck from my cap rubbing so made sure I had a thick layer of Vaseline on there.

Stood behind our coloured flag, matching the colour on our hats, we waited for instruction to go.  Clapping the red group, the ‘fast’ group, I’d landed at the start and it felt exciting.  Staring out across the body of water separating one island from another, knowing that nothing but my body and mind was going to get me across, filled me with fire.

The water felt cold but the clarity was mesmerising.  And after the initial tornado of bubbles and water turbulence from other swimmers, I found space and rhythm.

It wasn’t long before swimmers were getting stung by the jellyfish, it was inevitable and although I knew it was coming, the first sting took me by surprise, getting me right on my nose I felt like I’d fallen face first into stinging nettles. ‘You ok?’ One of the kayakers called. It stopped me in my tracks, pulling me out of my rhythm for a moment, ‘All good! Just got me right on my nose!’ 

They were everywhere.  Purple and beautiful and full of sting.  I think the kayakers probably found it quite amusing with all the little yelps within each pod.

I felt tightness in my chest and my body was cold.  Gazing down at the crystal clear grassy seabed was a welcomed distraction but as I got out on St Martins side and climbed the steps up to the jetty my whole body was shaking.  It was like my worst nightmare coming true and I felt slightly panicked.

Lauren had been on the supporters boat and met me with my bag.  She would continue to be the most encouraging support team a girl could ask for, telling me to ‘eat more’ or ‘drink more water’ or ‘remember your Vaseline!’  When the supporters boat was able to land, she’d be there waiting for me with the biggest smile and words of encouragement.  

As she huddled me inside a little waiting room, I was shivering, watching other swimmers walking by as I fumbled with my clothes. I needed the sun.  Some heat on my body.  The air was starting to warm up now.  We found where most were congregating, spilling out on the grass, wrapping up and refuelling their bodies.

I found a medic who took my temperature and gave me the thumbs up whilst handing me a heated bean bag. ‘Stick it under your armpit’ he said.  Instant heat.  I could have kissed him.

I would go on to carry that little bundle of heat, wrapping my fingers round it in my pocket for the rest of the day.

Luckily for me and anyone else who was feeling the cold, the next swim was a little walk away, giving our bodies the chance to warm up. As we walked we talked and our conversation drifted away from the cold and into our childhood rebellious acts, all very tame but input from fellow swimmers and stories of their adolescence was welcomed as we shared and laughed, walking along pathways on new islands leading to the next leg of the swim.

There was a real sense of excitement for this one, St Martins to Tresco; the clarity of the water, the life below the sea, the pulling tide and the sea stacks.  I’d wear wetsuit socks and double my hats this time and for each swim moving forward. There were so many people swimming in skins.  

A conversation with a skins swimmer the day before revealed she’d recently swam the English Channel in just her swimming costume and with no food just some nutritional powder substitute.  I was in awe of her whilst thinking ‘what’s wrong with this girl?!’ This filled my thoughts through my swims and I was determined the cold would not beat me, if she can swim the English Channel in nothing but her skin, I can do this.

I’d borrowed a thermal vest, socks and hat from a good friend Katy before leaving; she’d recently cycled around the coast of the UK for suicide awareness and mental health.  A lot of it completed by herself; the emotional endeavour, the logistics and the physical power, a huge accomplishment, I felt so inspired by it.  

Even though this challenge was small in the grand scheme of things, to me, it felt big and I carried a lot of people and their encouragement along for the ride, and whilst queueing on the jetty in the sunshine, I felt a real sense of gratitude to be there.

The buzz spread through the swimmers.  Hooting and clapping the red caps as they began to swim, noticing they were hardly moving initially, battling with the tide.  We followed shortly after, a swarm of orange hats crashing through the water until a formation was developed, green hats to follow after us, a traffic light system.  Kayakers both sides of each pod, at the front and behind, safety boats on the outside of them.  A lead kayaker up the front with a flag on a long pole which guided us.  Stopping if the pack separated too much; we’d float on tow floats catching our breath, sharing smiles and encouragement.

Breathing to my right side with a craggy rock stack in view with each breath and the most crystal clear water below.  The water clarity had been said it was the best it’s been in a while. The jelly fish were less prominent on this leg and the sand, the whitest to be washed up onto on the other side. Everyone was smiling the biggest smiles and the energy was contagious. 

It was so interesting, the in-between moments, watching everyones routines on dry land, in between swims; what their body language was saying; wondering what motivated everyone to be there; how their energy changed throughout the day.  I thought about what I must look like to everyone else.

At each point a decision was being made by the organisers behind the scenes, murmurs to follow, people making their own assumptions of what the day would hold.  Waiting to swim to Bryer, a few of us sat on the beach in the warmth of the sunshine whilst wondering why everyone else was sat on a shady boat ramp next to us; my thoughts echoed by a fellow swimmer beside me,  he would continue to make me laugh with his dry sense of humour and unassuming nature,  as we waited to be called to the water; the person that doesn’t really need to say much, but has the best timing and execution.  We’d all feed into each others conversations and the energy was open and welcomed. A sense of comfort and camaraderie felt.

The swim from Tresco to Bryer was the shortest but felt longer than I’d expected it to. 

From the spectators boat, the view of us swimming and the route that we were taking was so much clearer.  Lauren would tell me after different swims how much we were snaking or taking it wide, the kayakers so safety conscious with tide and jelly fish and long meandering kelp forests that sometimes our distances would increase because of this.

My arms felt tired waiting on the beach on Bryer. Waiting for a decision to be made of what would come next.  Anticipating the long swim past Sampson and onto St Agnes and a feeling of disappointment when the call was made that we wouldn’t be completing the longest leg; Instead we’d swim to Sampson, stop on the sand bar to re group and then make up most of the distance by swimming back to a different part of Tresco. 

I felt tired.  Something had crept in and stolen my energy and as we left Bryer my fire was dwindling.  For the first time that day my goggles started leaking, I had to stop so many times to empty them. 

‘Do you need another pair, I might have a spare!’ 

The lovely kayaker next to me called out.  

I’d struggle on, making do with a little droplet rolling into my eye each time I turned my head to breath.

I’d fallen right to the back of the pod and although it wasn’t a race or about winning, I really didn’t want to be there, it was telling.

Zig zagging, getting tangled up in seaweed, unsuccessfully dodging jelly fish and feeling the sting, the weight of my body and each arm stroke felt heavier, heavy in my body and in my mind, loosing rhythm with my breath and feeling the cold in my bones; I wanted to get out. 

I found myself in a place I didn’t want to be, but exactly why I’d signed up for the challenge in the first place, to find the ‘wall’ and ‘get over it’.

It was the longest 2.5km, feeling like it would never end as we finally reached the sandbar on Sampson, I felt deflated and really cold.  I’d spent most of it thinking about whether or not I could just get out, jump on the spectators boat and watch on from afar, I was done.

I had fruit pastels tucked into in my tow float for a little sugar hit but wouldn’t need them; we all got handed three jelly babies by one of the organisers as we stumbled onto the island.  It was late afternoon by this time and I remember the light, afternoon sun glowing warm, a tight, salty, windswept feeling across my face; being on the island felt like we’d been deserted, if only for a short while. There was a distinct feeling of magic amongst the lethargy.

The latter seemed to be shared on the shoreline, myself and three others wading into the water.  

’I really need a fist pump’ the girl wading next to me said.  

She made contact with the guy next to her and then we were all fist pumping.  

I felt so appreciative of that girl, I really needed that encouragement but couldn’t find my voice to ask for it. We all swam together for sometime on that leg.  

I couldn’t tell if it was the sugar or the natural high from human connection but I went from ‘hitting a brick wall’ to euphoria.  The breath in my chest felt expansive and the joy of swimming returned.  I was still cold and tired but became aware of the moment and how beautiful and fleeting this time was. A feeling of pure gratitude with each stroke.

The sunlight was hitting the water, shimmering crystals dancing on the surface.  The jelly fish were mesmerising as they drifted towards us and away from us.

We walked upon the shore, back on Tresco and found our bags on the jetty, waiting again for a decision on what would come next.  Bodies sprawled out on verges of grass. Catching snippets of conversations, sharing smiles and knowing looks.  I watched a girl in a medical hyperthermia blanket and wondered how inappropriate it would be to ask if I could snuggle in.  

The very tail of summer, the sun losing its heat to Autumn.  I ate salt and vinegar crisps and drank my last dregs of tea.  The bag broken by this stage, tea leaves floating. 

Information started to trickle from the organisers through to the group of what would come next.

It was confirmed that we’d swim our last swim, from one point on Tresco to another and then travel back to St Marys by boat.

Disappointment and relief mixed together.  Disappointment that it was nearly over, but also a feeling of relief, I was tired, it had been a long day.

As we all left the congregation area with our bags and headed for a different part of Tresco I walked with one of the organisers, we talked while her walkie talkie began firing off with different voices and conversations, her tapping out of ours and into the conversation which concerned her with ease.

The event course was not what it was initially anticipated to be.  Unprecedented weather conditions and water clarity but also an unprecedented amount of jelly fish, blooming everywhere.  This would, in the end, dictate our fate.  Change the course and make the challenge slightly shorter. It would also make it a little more exciting, the unpredictability of it all.  

As uncertain as the day was, the calm and informative nature of the organisers was consistent.  It felt like we were all moving together in-sync to an unpredictable day.  We rode the uncertainty together.

As we stumbled out onto the beach for the last swim of the day, the light had reached its peak.  We were at the top of the mountain, albeit a small one, looking down.

Finding my own nook at the back of the beach, I got ready for the last time.  A shell caught my eye, a little memento which would later be turned into a beautiful pendant by a good friend.

There were a few people who had had enough, they wouldn’t take part in the last swim, they would watch, sitting in the sun on the spectators boat.  I made no judgements.  I was just so happy to be in a position to swim, to feel excited by it and energised by the thought of finishing.

I was one of the last to hand over their bags, the last of the days rituals coming to an end. I eked it out.  Checking in with my number 67.  Lining up behind our coloured flags.  Huddling together ready to enter the water, I wondered if the man with the gapping hole in his wetsuit had found any gaffer tape to fix it or if the man who had a deep gash on his chest from his beard rubbing had managed to carry on swimming in skins.  Wondering how badly people had been stung and how on earth people had swam the whole day without a wetsuit when I was almost hyperthermic after my first leg!  It was suddenly the end when the beginning had been such a long time coming.

I felt excited, charged by the beautiful light of the day, the feeling of satisfaction and gratitude for all that the experience had given me.  I tucked the shell into my tow float and for one last time joined the tornado of bubbles heading for the finish line. 

[adastra121]

Random Trivia about my Touchstarved MCs

I wanted to ramble about them. I don’t have too many details because I wanted them to be flexible for the MC’s canon characterization and backstories when the full game comes out, but there are some themes I wanted to play around with.

The order of their ages is the order the character backstories appear in the menu. Luneth (Unnamed) is 28, Alon (Hound) is 24, and Jin (Alchemist) is 21. I try to organize posts involving all of them in this order.

The creation of my characters was in the reverse order, though. I made Jin first (out of all of my OCs, he is the one that takes most after the Touchstarved MC’s canon characterization — reserved, cautious, a little snarky, at least on the inside, and desperate for a cure), Alon second (as a fail run MC, but then I got attached to the clown), and Luneth last (she was actually the last to receive her name, too. In my past posts, I just referred to her as [redacted] the Unnamed, as a reference to another game that’s now shut down 😞).

Jin is the least physically coordinated of my MCs, he has been a bookish homebody his whole life. He gets winded from running a block. He would have died from the Soulless twice were it not for the power of being the main character. He is the MC who does not know how to swim.

That was probably at the forefront of his panic when he almost fell into the Seaspring, not falling into the ambiguously red, spooky supernatural pool, but just…falling into a pool, period.

In addition to being the most restless, Alon is the most physically coordinated. They’re skilled at scaling buildings, parkour, dancing, sleight of hand, and street fighting. They’d be the most capable of outrunning a Soulless…but they’re also the MC most likely to try fighting a Soulless, so…yeah. Both Jin and Alon could have died from the Soulless in the demo.

Luneth is the most artistic out of my MCs. She paints, dances, and plays music as hobbies. They are an outlet for her, and a pathway of expressing her emotions whenever she struggles with words and action. I think she’d have a nice singing voice.

By the end of the demo, Luneth (as the Unnamed MC) is probably the wealthiest of my MCs in Eridia’s special currency — information, that is. She has a sense that neither Kuras nor Mhin are entirely human, she knows that something powerful lives inside the Seaspring and probably suspects Ais isn’t the true leader, and she chose not to touch Leander’s hand, so…she knows that the green mage is a greater danger to her than he lets on.

Alon would probably be the MC of mine most likely to share a cigarette with Ais. Neither Jin nor Luneth smoke. Jin would try it once and hate it. Even so, Alon doesn’t smoke often, I think they’d sooner share a bottle of hard liquor with the demon.

Oh! If I sorted each of them with the Touchstarved characters as hangout groups: Alon, Leander, and Ais are the barhopping drinking buddies who have 3 a.m. adventures together ending with really greasy hangover food breakfast in the early morning. Jin, Mhin, and Kuras would form a small book club and discuss trashy mystery novels every week — either that or the alchemist lab buddies that conduct a different experiment together each time one of them asks a question. Luneth and Vere (possibly Elyon, too) are the artsy friends who attend musical performances together, like operas and concerts. During the day, they’d chill together in the drawing room, Vere sketching and Luneth practising on her lyre or harp.

They each have their own sense of humour.

I see Luneth as the type to have really subtle humour that you probably have to know her well to catch. It’s a lot of deadpan remarks that others have trouble telling whether she’s being sarcastic or not. Just imagine someone telling a dad joke in the most grave expression, like you’re explaining the end of the world.

Alon has a more goofy, cheery kind of humour. More theatrical. Lots of misdirection and bouncing from one topic to another.

Jin has a more lowkey sarcasm that is usually reserved to his private thoughts. He doesn’t usually like to make quips out loud, those are usually the moments he forgets himself. Think the inner thoughts of the protagonist in Ace Attorney games.

Luneth and Jin are both very similar and opposite characters. Luneth is more reticent and disciplined with her emotions, Jin tries to be the same but he is sensitive and emotional.  Luneth likes art (music, dance, painting), Jin likes craft (sewing, mixing tea blends, gardening). Luneth strives to find a greater purpose so her suffering meant something, Jin strives to be useful so as not to be a burden.

Control is a theme they share. They strive to have control over themselves, their emotions, their powers and their destinies, but for a large part of their lives, they were under someone else’s control. As a result of their mentors’ influence, they self-impose a lot of restraints. Luneth doesn’t allow herself to feel or yearn for anything aside from fulfilling her destiny. Jin constantly chastises himself for his feelings and actions.

Both of them tend to be reserved and prefer quiet spaces to loud and rowdy environments. I think they’d both enjoy nature walks.

Both of them are socially awkward from their lack of experience interacting with other people, though Jin is more socially anxious and Luneth is less concerned about what people think about her.

Luneth and Alon don’t seem like they would have any similarities, but they surprisingly have a few? In both backstories, they were robbed of their choice. Jin is the only of my MCs who left his old life willingly (even though he has regrets). Luneth had chosen to stay with her temple until the one she loved betrayed her and destroyed it. Alon was betrayed and robbed by a crew she would have given all her cure money to, anyway.

They are both drawn to music. Even though Alon can't carry a tune to save their life, she still enjoys singing and playing music — I think they’d be good at drumming though. Luneth uses music as an outlet for her emotions and a way to ground herself — she is trained with the lyre and the harp, and she takes her playing very seriously. They both enjoy dancing, with Luneth being classically trained and Alon being self- and community- taught with a natural sense of rhythm.

Also, I can see both of them as the types to fight god. Alon is the type to fight god for the people they love, Luneth is the type to fight god for whatever cause she devotes herself to, whether it is a belief or a person. And she’d win, because she does not engage in fights unless she is certain she will emerge the victor (but perhaps that will change depending on the romance route).

Both have a bad habit of suppressing their emotions. Luneth does it by wearing a mask of indifference, Alon deflects from their hurt and sorrow with humour.

Alon and Jin have a bunch of obvious differences. Alon is more outgoing, and experienced with the world. Jin is more reserved and sheltered. Alon is more physically affectionate, Jin avoids physical touch whenever he can. 

That being said, they’re both curious and they both have a tendency to ramble. I feel like if they met each other, they could talk for hours, one of them transforming into an entire encyclopedia on the one specific topic and the other bouncing from tangent to tangent and then circling back to the first as if they never left.

Those two MCs also don’t have the highest sense of self-worth.

It seems that all my MCs have a theme of love and choice, how love does not prevent you nor exempt you from hurting others. Jin’s magic mentor cared about him but still abused him, Alon’s found family turned on them when her monstrous qualities were revealed, and Luneth’s first love betrayed her trust and destroyed her home.

Jin is the most likely to drink from the Seaspring. He views himself as a burden, a monster, and he’s the MC who most fears being selfish and having that selfishness hurt others. So if it comes down to it, he would give his soul to protect the greater good.

Alon is the least likely to drink from the Seaspring because she values their freedom too much. Luneth is just very unlikely to drink from the Seaspring. If she ever does, it will only be because she truly believes herself capable of controlling it. And that’s unlikely. So yeah, she wouldn’t drink from the Seaspring.

Luneth is the most likely to succeed at ridding herself of her curse. I think out of all my MCs, if the MC actually does get rid of their curse, I would be most satisfied with that playing out in Luneth’s story. Her whole identity and worth has been tied to her “gift” for so long, I think letting go of it and exploring the possibilities of who she is without it would be narratively satisfying for her.

Alon is the most likely to learn to live with the curse. Compared to my other MCs, she’s probably the most chill about their curse — yeah, it brings madness and terror, but it’s also something they’d learned to live with around other people already. They learned the safe ways to give physical affection, they even turned their curse into a last resort plan of escape, allowing them some control over how they use it and when.

For Jin, I would like him to learn to live with his curse, accept it as a part of him that has the potential to cause harm but doesn’t mean his very existence is a threat to others. I just want his journey to end with self-acceptance, accepting the parts of himself that he sees as monstrous, letting go of his fear and shame, and learning to love himself. 

For all my MCs, I can see either working as a narratively satisfying ending, though. Luneth learning to live with her curse but not be defined by it, Alon having the same “What now? What’s next?” experience as Luneth after finally fulfilling their promise, Jin being free of his fear, being able to experience love and affection without worrying about hurting someone with it.

Sometimes, I like to imagine the Unnamed, the Hound, and the Alchemist were all in the caravan together with the same goal of getting rid of their curse. None of them told the others their secret, though — they all have reasons to distrust the others. Whichever backstory you picked is the only one of them who survived. But maybe if they’d told the others about their curse, found others like them, they could have found a way to survive together.

I know that it’s probably supposed to be the same MC, only with a different backstory, but it feels tragic if they’re all different characters and they all exist in the same universe — it’s just that the one we play is the only one who actually gets a chance at a happy ending.

Can you imagine, playing the alchemist who's just escaped their mentor's manipulation to end up in the same caravan headed to the same place with the same goal as the exiled thief who's just been betrayed by their dearest friend and the oracle-in-training who's found out that their entire purpose had been a lie? Sharing a space with other people in a similar situation with you, who can empathize with you, but you never even knew that path existed because you were the only one who survived.

Something mournful about lost potential or a journey being cut short.

Sometimes I do want to put my MCs together in the same story, though, because I think they’d be fun to play off each other. They all go looking for the cure to their curse together.