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meimae · 3 years

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Language Learning Through Immersion: One Year Japanese Update

11/03/2021

I did it, you guys! I’ve successfully reached my very first year of Japanese language immersion! I honestly thought that I would have given up by now, but this really has been a fun and ultimately rewarding endeavor.

Studying the language has been at the back of my mind for years since elementary school, I just never really knew how to go about it before, and I always thought that I could learn it in a classroom setting someday. That someday for me was in two elective courses in university, and while those were fun as well, it did not give me the same gains that I have achieved in this past year.

It’s probably easier to quantify learning a language in a classroom setting, especially when going through a program to earn a language degree. Learning through immersion, however, I had to really consider what my goals should be on my own. Eventually, I stumbled upon an article saying that for an English speaker, Japanese was exceptionally difficult to learn and that at least 2,200 hours must be spent with the language to reach a certain level of proficiency. So I said to myself, “well okay internet, if you say so!”, and set that as my long term goal going forward.

Spoiler Alert: I did not hit that goal in my first year. I am not crazy and will never listen to Japanese in my sleep regardless of what Khatzumoto (the creator of All Japanese All the Time) says.

I did, however, hit a total 1,226.65 active immersion hours in my first year, so I guess I’m still a bit nuts. That is 874.96 hours of active listening and 351.69 reading hours. I also did 270.59 hours of passive listening, also known as the time in the very beginning of my immersion where I was using Japanese subtitles (therefore not really concentrating on listening alone). That’s a cumulative 1,497.24 hours spent with Japanese. That’s more than halfway towards my goal!

To further break that down for curious animanga fans out there, that’s 973 episodes from 109 anime, 765 episodes from 33 dramas, 7 movies, and 967 chapters from 107 volumes of manga (21 series). Here’s my anilist and mydramalist to see what I’ve read/watched.

During all this, I was also doing my daily Anki reps and now I have a 530 day SRS streak (includes the time prior starting immersion and only doing RTK and some vocabulary cards) and a total 8,857 sentence cards. I’ve been averaging 406 cards daily (because I’m trying to cure my leeches) and I spend about an hour per day doing reps and learning new cards. I don’t really track my time on Anki, but I do have a set timer that goes off after 1-1:30 hours.

What I haven’t touched upon at all is output. I have not gone out of my way to find a tutor or a language partner. There’s still plenty of input out there to immerse in before I even consider outputting.

Graphs, stats, and more thoughts:

Here's my current card count in my main deck (minus the cards in my new/learning queue and leeches I've been relearning which are in separate decks):

That one day in 2019 where I did not do my cards because I was seriously doubting whether I can actually stick with language learning this time around will forever haunt and inspire me to keep going everyday.

Workflow and Tips

You might be wondering, how do I have a lot of time? I started this whole endeavor in the middle of a pandemic, which eliminated the option of me going to a language school, and a slew of other things I were considering doing last year became impossible (and if anything, very scary to do in a pandemic). All I can say is that, things work out eventually if it is His will, and if I can learn a skill before everything properly settles back down again, then why not?

I wake up at 5 in the morning everyday to either do my Anki reps or read until the time when I need to get up and I listen to compressed audio throughout the day. The biggest tip is to switch the time you spend watching/reading in your native language to your target language instead. Listen to a podcast during your commute, watch an episode during lunch break, read before going to bed, do your Anki reps in the bathroom if you have to.

But, if you’re feeling burnt out, there is no reason for you to not take a break! I have been watching a lot of Among Us streams before bed, and I chat with my friends from time to time. Language learning is not a race.

More Stats

Here are a couple of grids of the kanji characters that I have encountered at least once in my immersion and how well I have answered them in my vocabulary/sentence cards.

It's interesting that after almost 9000 words, I have yet to encounter every single character from the Remembering the Kanji 1 (RTK 1) book by James Heisig, which teaches you the most common use characters that are part of the 常用漢字. Which brings me to the question, was writing down every single character being taught in RTK worth it every time it came up in my reviews for the first 3-ish months I was reviewing them? Maybe, maybe not. It certainly removed my anxiety whenever looking at blocks of text in Japanese, but the longer I think about it, the more I feel I should have switched to Recognition RTK earlier. Still, being able to write in proper stroke order is cool I guess, and it also helps me when looking things up in the dictionary.

Here’s the same grid but in JLPT order:

I clearly need to grind those N2 and N1 level cards! Speaking of which, I have apparently almost covered every single character that could possibly appear in the JLPT (except for the N1 which I have only covered half of) in just a year's time. If the JLPT word frequency lists I’m using are accurate, I have about 2,000 words more to go to to cover most vocabulary that could appear in the test. This makes the "10,000 sentences/words to fluency" argument a reasonable milestone to aim for for Japanese learners if said aim is only to pass the test. That said, 10,000 words is just that, a milestone. It's more akin to a comfortable level of comprehension, but not my own concept of fluency which is being able to read with ease, speak articulately, and write comfortably.

READING IMMERSION GRAPHS

My biggest motivation for tracking my stats is for the purpose of seeing whether my reading speed is improving over time. Reading speed is also easier to measure than listening comprehension which is kind of subjective, so I had a lot of fun making these. What I found is that for the first volume or chapter of whatever it is I’m reading, I always take the time to get used to the writing style of the author. My speed really improves whenever I keep reading the same topic over and over again. On the other hand and quite obviously, looking up many new words in a row and trying to parse sentences slows me down.

Manga: Reading Speed Progression per Volume

I clearly love ちはやふる and I am not ashamed to admit it.

I need to start reading longer manga. When I do, I’ll probably split this graph into less than and greater than 20 volumes. Imagine if I start reading something ridiculously long as 名探偵コナン or ワンピース, these graphs will start breaching the bounds of time and space.

Novels: Time Spent Reading per Chapter

#neverforget the time I read chapter six of Norwegian Wood for 9 hours when it took me less than half that time in English RIP. Also, my interest in Kitchen plummeted LOL. Still planning to finish it don’t worry.

I also need to start branching away from manga and start reading more novels and light novels, too just so I can make more pretty graphs.

Visual Novels: Time Spent Reading and Daily Word Count

Also known as images that clearly show that I’ve already spent several days only reading the prologue of Island. I’m not sweating. 切那 needs to stop using words I don’t know in succession. More thoughts on this VN far into the future.

Thoughts on Immersion

I can’t really say anything else other that that it works for me, and needless to say if you’re considering this method, remember that the SRS is your friend but immersion should be your one true love.

Prior to all this, I couldn’t even read a sample paragraph from Genki without being confused to my very soul. Yes, I know, it’s embarrassing, but that’s the truth. I was way more scared of failing my Japanese classes than my actual thesis for my bachelors degree, I kid you not. I would quite literally spend all my free time in university trying to understand grammar, memorize vocabulary, and answer my workbook exercises with little to no success.

I tried so hard to get all the grammar “formulas” into my head for 1.5 years and it only brought me more confusion. I’m never going back to traditional classroom study for language learning, but I will still refer to grammar books when I need to, and not because I feel like I need to answer 4783342 different workbook exercises like my life depended on it.

I still can’t believe it, but with immersion this statement is actually true to a point, don’t try shadowing anime/or calling your boss anime language slurs, use your common sense:

study anime to understand Japanese > study Japanese to understand anime

Future Goals/Plans

2,200 immersion hours was my initial goal, but honestly I feel like that number could be much higher. There’s still a lot of stuff I don’t understand (news, politics, sciences, etc.), so I’ll make attempts to cover more of those things in my immersion.

I’ll continue reading more, because that’s a natural SRS in itself. Try to read longer manga, more novels, visual novels, and light novels, and maybe news articles.

I’ll try to mine as much “JLPT vocab” as I can before making any attempts at taking the JLPT. I noticed that a lot of the words I know don’t appear in the JLPT word lists as much, even though they appear a lot in media/daily conversation.

Continue mining all words I don’t know because all words are useful anyway. There is no such thing as useless words. I never really understood mining only “interesting words” or words that “pop up” in your immersion. As I said in my previous blog post, 美人局 is an interesting word and I certainly caught it being said in my immersion, but in the three languages I know, I wouldn’t know when I would be able to use such a word, as compared to something like ジャガイモ which is a significantly less interesting word, but is certainly useful to know.

I have managed to talk up a storm, but if you have any questions regarding my process or recommendations for new immersion material, please feel free to send an ask/reply to this post. I love hearing about other people’s language learning/immersion journeys.

See you on my next post!

#language learning #japanese language #language acquisition #study blog #langblr #studyblr #graphs #language immersion #japanese #visual novels #manga #novels #anime #dramas #movies #youtube #podcasts

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cheri-translates · 4 years

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[CN] Victor’s Tennis Date

🍒Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers!🍒

Important to read the prologue first for the backstory: here [added MC’s journal entries]

MC: I can’t do it, I can’t walk anymore…

Without realizing it, Victor and I have already been on this island for around ten days.

From finding materials for work to taking breathers, we have almost seen all the sights and tried all the entertainment.

Naturally, we didn’t miss tonight’s beach buffet barbecue.

At this moment, Victor offers me an outstretched hand as I lean against a chair, unwilling to move.

Victor: Since you’re full, you should take a walk. Who was one who kept saying she wanted to finish her food quickly so she can return to her room to continue with the proposal?

MC: Just let me be lazy for a day. My whole mind is filled with barbecue prawns and barbecue fish, so I can’t think of what to write…

Despite what I said, I still take Victor’s hand and stand up.

The energetic music from the beach gradually grows distant. Victor and I walk away from the noise, returning to a quiet path.

MC: Where are we going tomorrow?

Victor: We can meet the client tomorrow.

MC: Ah, the client you mentioned finally arrived! I even thought he stood us up…

My words come out in a garble, probably because I drank a little too much tonight. Victor draws closer to me and leans down.

Victor: What did you say?

MC: I said… this client is even more reputable than you!

Victor: …

Filled with Dutch courage, I use my fingers to count the number of times we opposed each other.

Victor walks at my side, listening quietly.

While I continue counting, I say in a soft voice.

MC: Victor… thank you.

Victor: What, you just finished complaining, and now you’re thanking me?

MC: If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have had the motivation to operate the company to such a good state now.

Victor: You’re so easily satisfied?

MC: Of course I’m not! We agreed to get to the top of the business world, so I’ll be No. 1!

I leap forward, doing a “Number 1” pose towards the night sky.

Victor: If you’re doing a pose, just do it. Don’t jump around.

Victor’s deep voice carries with it a tinge of resignation, and also a tinge of connivance. Perhaps it’s just a misperception in my drunken state.

MC: The point is… I still have to thank you, Victor. I mean it.

Victor: Dummy.

MC: How am I dumb? I came here for work purposes! Eh, you still haven’t told me who the client is.

I lift my head to look at Victor, but I can only see his eyes, which appear even darker than the evening.

Victor: It’s me.

MC wakes up sober and sees a glass of water and hangover medicine on the bedside table

Victor’s coat is on the sofa, and she recalls how she blacked out after Victor said he was the client

MC: It can’t be… could I have misheard? Why would he go through all this trouble to be my “client”?

I rub my head, which still feels slightly hazy. I decide to freshen up and look for Victor to clarify this matter.

She goes out and sees Victor playing tennis with a young man:

Victor is in sportswear, and it’s as though his entire temperament has changed.

His eyes are focused on the tennis ball in hand, as though able to predict the trajectory of the ball from the stillness.

Soon after, he flicks his wrist upwards –

Pung!

With a sharp parabola, the ball enters the opponent’s side of the court from a tricky angle.

The young man sprints and barely returns the ball with a poor angle.

Victor easily returns the ball, swinging his arm at a beautiful angle.

A few more rounds of back and forth ensue. Seeing that he’s unable to return the final ball, the young man releases a wry smile and puts his racket away.

He grins while talking to Victor, then turns to retrieve his bag, preparing to leave the court. Before he leaves through the door, he suddenly realizes that I’m standing outside.

Young man: Are you here to play tennis?

MC: Ah, I’m not…

Victor: She’s here to look for me.

With a look of understanding, the young man smiles at us amicably before turning around to leave.

I brisk walk into the tennis court, greeting Victor with a smile.

MC: Why are you training here so early?

Victor: I’ve been training over the past few days. You only found out today because you’re always dawdling in bed.

MC: You’ll have to blame the beds on this island for being too soft and making people not want to leave them... oh right, who was that person just now?

Victor: I don’t know him. He happened to be practicing with the ball, so I invited him to play two games. On the other hand, you drank quite a lot yesterday. I thought you’d be sleeping more.

MC: I had a dream, so I woke up.

Victor: A dream?

MC: I dreamt… that you said you’d take me to meet the client today.

Victor: I think you’re not fully awake yet.

MC: So it’s really you? Have you been assessing me over all this time as the client?

I panic while recalling the itinerary of the past few days. In contrast, Victor calmly takes up the tennis bag to the side, beckoning to me.

Victor: Let’s go for breakfast first.

They head to a restaurant overlooking the sea:

MC: You’re not eating?

Victor: I’ve already eaten.

I angrily stuff a piece of omelette into my mouth, blinking at him firmly.

I know that Victor understands what I mean – he should be giving me a proper explanation. However, when he opens his mouth, I’m left stunned.

Victor: What do you think of this island?

MC: Eh?

Victor: Does it suit the theme of “Haven” mentioned in your proposal?

MC: It’s extremely suitable! Over the past few days, I’ve already thought about several places to shoot and organize activities, for example…

I suddenly remember something and look at him, eyes wide in disbelief.

MC: Wait a minute… did you bring me to this island to help me with selecting locations for the shoot?

Victor: Dummy.

MC: Why did you suddenly call me a dummy again…

Victor: Choosing the shooting locations is the second reason. As for the first reason, you can think about it yourself.

I return Victor’s gaze, but I’m unable to think about what reason could possibly be more important than the program, so I shake my head honestly.

Victor lets out a sigh.

Victor: How long has it been since you’ve had a rest?

MC: I…

In order to prepare for this program, I haven’t had a day of rest since the beginning of last month.

I usually meet Victor in LFG, so it has been a very long time since I could enjoy a leisurely breakfast with him like this.

MC: It has been a while… the financing has arrived after all, so I want to show you the results quickly.

Victor: There’s no hurry. After getting the financing, you should be even more careful with the rest of the plan. The idea of your new program is not bad, but it still needs to be polished.

His tone is calm, but I can sense his certainty towards me in every word and sentence.

I feel a sense of warmth in my heart and I want to thank him. In the next second, Victor continues, making me swallow my words.

Victor: Anyway, the problems in your program can’t be resolved in a short time.

MC: …are there really that many issues? I was even quite confident in it…

Victor: It’s only when there are problems that improvements can be made. If you can’t find any issues, that is the true problem.

MC: Could you start with just one opinion so I can mentally prepare myself?

Victor: The very first problem…

I frantically await what he is about to say, but Victor pulls out a napkin.

He stretches out his arm, wiping off some scraps of omelette from the corner of my mouth.

Victor: …is that someone is too impatient. Finish your food first before working.

MC: …mm!

After breakfast, Victor and I return to the guest room.

Victor: Where’s your notebook?

MC: How did you know that I take notes?

Victor: Whenever someone goes to a new location, she would take out her handphone and snap pictures or write things down. She also only turns off the light very late at night… I’m not that slow.

I never thought Victor would notice this, and my face turns red.

It’s true that whenever I discover an interesting place on this island, I would note it down, and then tidy up my notes at night.

After taking the notebook from me, Victor flips through it seriously and nods.

Victor: The locations you noted down are very applicable to the theme.

MC: After having my proposals shot down so many times, of course I’ll grow!

Victor: …barely satisfactory. Elaborate more on how to use the area mentioned in this page.

MC elaborates but Victor objects to her idea. MC retorts firmly and Victor kind of gives in, telling her that she needs to produce something concrete in order for him to take back his objection

MC suggests that they play a game of tennis

MC: If I win, I will perfect the idea I mentioned earlier, and you are no longer allowed to put down my proposal. What do you think?

They head out to the court:

Victor: Judging from your confident tone just now, did you win an award for tennis like you did in billiards?

MC: Why do you remember these things… I’ve never won an award for tennis, but it was part of my P.E. classes during one semester. Don’t look down on me though! Here I come!

I cheer myself on in my heart, my body in a half bow. I toss the tennis ball gently.

Because it’s a bet, MC is taking this game very seriously. Her shots are easily returned by Victor

Victor wins the first point

MC says that she was just testing the waters, and they clarify that whoever gets 2 out of 3 points first will win

Victor: That ball… we’ll treat it as a warm-up.

Victor gets a point, and MC gets a point.

Victor raises his head. His eyes are narrowed slightly, as though seeing where the ball would land. Although he initially looks like he would lift his hand, he sets it down.

The ball lands on the line before rolling out of the court, so MC wins.

While MC celebrates, Victor walks towards her:

He reaches out to tidy my fringe, which is drenched with sweat.

Victor: Your character is really…

MC: What did you say?

Victor: Nothing much. I said that since you suddenly exerted yourself so much, you’re definitely at your limits. Are you able to walk on your own?

MC: Of course. I ate quite a lot this morning, although it feels like the calories have all been burnt…

Listening to my soft mutterings, Victor’s thin lips display a tender smile.

In the next moment, he offers me his hand.

Victor. Let’s go back to the room.

MC: Eh?

Victor: Or do you want to be left under the scorching sun?

I cast a glance at the blazing sun above us, and obediently grip Victor’s hand tightly.

In order to take care of my physical state, Victor doesn’t walk too quickly.

The intense tennis match has left a thin layer of sweat on his body. His palm meets mine, bringing with it the unique aftertaste of Summer.

MC: Victor, are you not going to acknowledge that you lost?

Victor: What are you trying to say?

MC: Since I won, can we fulfil the agreement of our bet?

Victor: I’ll consider it. Before that, show me the “concrete plan�� you mentioned.

MC: Of course I’ll show you a concrete plan! Oh, there’s something non-work related that I want to ask you.

Victor: What?

MC: That line ball just now… did you let me win on purpose?

Victor: No. When it comes to winning and losing, I do not “let”. I can only say that dummies have their dummies’ luck, and sometimes I misperceive things.

MC: When?

Victor: Many times. You are the factor that always surprises me.

MC: …are you really complimenting me?

Victor: Dummy.

There is a smile in his voice when he says “dummy”, and I involuntarily raise my head to look at him. Our eyes meet.

Victor: Every surprising idea you come up with has a certain strength. It’s difficult for people to ignore. Since you’ve shown me your resoluteness, and are willing to proceed in line with your resoluteness, then…

He turns his head slightly and lowers his eyes to mine. His deep voice and the breeze enter my ears.

Victor: I will hand you my trust.

I blink, and then realise what his words mean.

MC: So that means… you’ve agreed!

Victor: For the time being.

I let out a cheer and want to lift my hands, but Victor gives my fingers a light squeeze.

Victor: Are you going to start hopping around again?

MC: I just want to express my happiness for a while…

I tell him what I didn’t manage to do so earlier. Something even more important than a ‘thank you’.

MC: Victor, shall we treat this as a tie?

Victor: Why, do you want to have another game?

MC: In the future.

The trees provide shade from the blazing sun, and a few rays of light descend on the both of us.

In our reciprocal clashing of swords, my scoreboard with him will continue on.

At the end, we will both win, reaching the goal together.

🎾

[ Moments 1 ]

Victor’s Post: Didn’t think there would be cats on the island.

MC: Where! Where is the cat!

Victor: ........on the island.

Victor’s Post: Didn’t think there would be cats on the island.

MC: When compared to Pudding, which is cuter?

Victor: Each has its own strengths.

Victor’s Post: Didn’t think there would be cats on the island.

MC: What kind of a cat is it?

Victor: A cat which is even greedier than you.

🎾

[ Moments 2 ]

Victor’s Post: Someone who rarely wins has just won a game, and her tail is raised to the sky.

MC: I feel so happy today that I can eat a whole bowl of rice~

Victor: Who just told me yesterday that she wanted to lose weight?

[Note: Victor says “尾巴翘上天” which literally translates to “tail raised to the sky”. It refers to extreme arrogance]

Victor’s Post: Someone who rarely wins has just won a game, and her tail is raised to the sky.

MC: Let’s compete in a different sport next time!

Victor: ...put such a heart of victory and defeat into your work more often.

Victor’s Post: Someone who rarely wins has just won a game, and her tail is raised to the sky.

MC: Being able to win against you can be recorded as one of my life’s grandest achievements!

Victor: A dummy is truly easy to please.

#mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor #soft victor #mlqc

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honeybvnnyy · 4 years

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Operation Miroh

trigger warnings: none

written + edited by: 🥺

pairings: hwang hyunjin x oc

summary: A string of murders lead Detective Yang Nami down the winding streets of Seoul’s maze district, searching for the Vampire Slayer. But what happens when her digging leads her far closer to home than she could have ever thought? What happens when it’s someone she’s supposed to trust?

Prologue

There are lots of rules when it comes to vampires.

First, they must be invited into a house before they can enter. I'm not entirely sure why--they aren't usually portrayed as the most polite of people, not when they're plunging their fangs into your neck and sucking you dry. But it's a rule, and they have to abide by it.

Second, they must avoid certain things such as sunlight, garlic and anything remotely holy. Supposedly, it's because they're devil incarnates and anything too potent or bright or religious can harm them. I just think it's because they have weird allergies. Kind of like how I'm allergic to oranges, which is really inconvenient because they look like they taste good. It sucks.

Finally--not that it's the last rule, but it's the final most obvious one--they can only be killed by certain methods. Some of these include the use of silver, fire (they're insanely flammable), decapitation and a stake to the heart--the most famous and popularly used of them all.

All of this is purely hypothetical, of course. Just myths formulated by people with better things to do than tell stories of bloodsuckers and the threats they pose to us poor, helpless prey.

At least, that's what I thought.

I had read enough stories and watched enough movies to know the basic rules about vampires, but not enough to blindly believe my boss when he told me they're real.

"You're kidding, right?"

He's kidding. He has to be. Maybe he's crazy, or maybe this is a prank.

I searched Captain Park's face for signs of amusement or maybe some sort of twitch--a crack in his demeanor to tell me that he wasn't being serious. His face remained completely flat.

I glanced around the room for cameras, wondering if I was on some kind of prank show, or that one TV program What Would You Do?. It would have been a really shit prank, because I was definitely not buying it, but you never know. Maybe they'd run out of ideas. I might have been payed more for not falling for something so stupid.

The same security camera that had been in the office since I began working there blinked back at me, red light flashing. I'd seen security footage from it before--for a security camera at a literal police station, you'd think that it'd have better resolution. Apparently not.

Which meant it wasn't a prank show, at least not one that valued it's camera quality. Which meant my boss was crazy.

He stared at me silently, not bothering to answer my question. Yep, definitely crazy.

"I'm serious, Detective Yang." He did look serious. Since when did he start taking acting classes? I thought. I mean, I took drama for 3 years and even I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face after spilling that level of bullshit.

"So you're telling me," I said, picking at my finger nails, "That not only there's been a series of killings around this area, but that they're all down to Vampires."

"A Vampire. And yes, we don't know for sure, but that's what it looks like."

"And what evidence do you have that it's a-" I waved my hands around in the air, as if summoning some common sense for the man. "-An actual Vampire and not just, I don't know, a regular serial killer. Which would be so much easier to deal with."

He clasped his calloused hands together and leaned back in his chair. He had an air of distaste surrounding him as if I was the one who was speaking crazy, but maybe that was because he always looked like he'd just smelled something revolting. Wrinkled skin scrunched up unlike the smooth sheets of paper stacked on his desk; lips pursed as if he'd sucked on a lemon for four hours; small, black eyes squinted despite the large, square glasses balanced on his nose. He had a habit of looking down on people even though he was 5'6 at most. Most people would describe him as intimidating but, to be fair, most people hadn't been told by him that Vampires exist.

"I understand your disbelief." Yeah, no shit. "I, too, was skeptical at first. But the evidence I've been shown convinced me that this is no joke. I know you like to believe that we humans know everything about our world, but the truth is that we simply cannot. You're going to look into this case whether you believe it or not."

Fighting to ward off the compelling urge to sigh and tell him again how stupid this is, I nodded curtly. "So I just have to find this..." God, I can't believe this is actually happening. "...Vampire. And bring them in."

A failed attempt at a smile passed over his stern features. He must have thought he'd won. "Precisely. I'm glad you're picking up on this."

"Can I think about it over the weekend and get back to you?"

I definitely would not think about it and I definitely would get back to him--to tell him that I was absolutely not doing it.

But of course, the universe seemed to be against me all of a sudden. Or maybe it was just him. "No, you can not," he stated plainly. "I've given you this case and you must take it. It's that simple."

"But Sir, there are loads of other Detectives who can do this job. I'm sure there are more... believable cases you can give me," I argued, trying my hardest not to sound in control and totally not like I was pleading him.

He leaned forward and his chair whined under his weight. "You're right." Wait, really? "There are plenty of other Detectives who can do this job and do it far better than you can. However, I am asking you to do this, and like the fair and just man I am-" (I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes at that one and, instead, just stared at the side of his desk). "-I will give you a choice: You do this case or you're out."

"Hold on," I began, gaze snapping up from the corner of his desk to those hard, black eyes, "I'm out as in... fired? For real?"

He nodded nonchalantly, not a word slipping past his thin lips. You have to be kidding me.

"That's ridiculous. This entire thing is ridiculous."

"I'm giving you a choice. Make it." He shrugged.

It wasn't really a choice, just the illusion of one. I'd worked under this man for two years by that point. He knew how much I loved that job and all that it meant to me. He knew how much I threw into it. He knew everything I'd given up to be there. And now I had to choose between discrediting my career with a Vampire hunt or losing it altogether. Options, options, options.

"You know what my answer is already."

The corners of his mouth curled up into a smirk. "I do." He reached for a pencil with a sharpened, pointy edge and twirled it around his fingers. "But I want to hear it from you."

God, I hate this man. Trying to hide my seething rage, I gritted my teeth and swallowed. "I'll take the case."

He barely reacted, just continued to play with the pencil. That doesn't mean I didn't notice the triumphant, cocky glint in his eye, though. "You are more like me than you think, Nami."

I looked at him curiously. That couldn't possibly be true. The only similarity that we shared is both working there, and we didn't even do the same job. So yeah, apart from the massive age gap, gender difference and literally everything else about us, we were totally the same.

"How so?" I asked, not sure if I wanted to know the answer or not.

"We're both intelligent, dedicated, hard-working." And not the slightest bit modest, clearly. "And like me, you know your place in this world and you will stubbornly defend it." He dropped the pencil onto the desk and it landed with a muffled clatter, then rolled until it hit a framed photograph of him with who I could only assume were his wife and two children. It reminded me that there must have been some remnants of a kind, young man beneath his cold, commanding demeanor--in the worst way possible, though.

He reached over to pick up a file and flicked through it until he settled on a page. I watched as his eyes scanned the paper. Just as I thought he was about to provide me with some tangible evidence of the wild claims he'd made that meeting, he spoke; "You are dismissed."

I found myself glued to my seat, my limbs weighing me down like anchors. "That's it? Are you not giving me a file on this?"

He glanced up from what he was reading for a brief second before continuing. "I'll email the main pieces of evidence to you digitally. You will be given a file tomorrow morning, once all of the necessary data has been compiled."

I didn't reply. Was I supposed to leave just like that? This man had told me that he thought the serial killer rampaging our region was a Vampire and that he was willing to fire me if I didn't take the case, all in the span of 30 minutes. And I was supposed to just soak in all that information with barely an ounce of explanation or evidence? Apparently so.

Hesitantly, I stood from my chair. A searing pain shot through my back, reminding me that I'd been sitting in a wooden chair for the past half an hour.

Captain Park regarded me for a second as I crossed the room. Hand on the doorknob, I faltered, waiting for him to say something, and when he didn't, I left the room, shutting the door behind me as gently as possible--despite the desire to slam it in frustration.

It was almost dark by the time I got home. The cerulean blue sky was stained with bright white dots, and the streets were bathed in the orange, artificial glow of the streetlights. With flushed cheeks, a running nose and icy hands, I fumbled with my keys until my apartment door unlocked, making a mental note to take a scarf or gloves in to work the next day.

I had stayed later than usual that night, finishing off any write-ups and looking through evidence relevant to a few other cases. After the meeting, I hadn't seen the Captain around, but that was for the best. I might not have been able to control my instincts for much longer.

Warmth swept through my body as I stepped in to the living room. I discarded my satchel on the floor and shrugged off my coat, folding it over the back of the couch. It was unusually empty and unusually quiet. Just as I went to search the apartment, a voice sounded from behind me.

"You're home late."

I whirled around to see Soyeon, leaning against the threshold where the living room and kitchen met. Her blonde bob was pulled into a short ponytail, revealing her pointed chin and signature smirk.

"I texted you," I said.

She retrieved her phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen, the blue light illuminating her face. "Oh, you did. Sorry, I didn't see. My phone is being weird at the moment."

"You gonna get it fixed?"

"Eventually."

I rounded the couch and plopped onto it, the cushions sinking beneath my weight. "Where's Jeongin?"

"In bed," she answered, following suit, "I think he has a cold."

"You should have told me, I would've brought some soup."

She waved her phone in the air as a reminder. "Again, dodgy phone. And it's alright, I got some anyway."

"Stupid school kids," I grumbled. I sighed and sunk further into the couch. Soyeon glanced over at me, concern gracing her features. "Bad day?"

I chuckled humourlessly. "Weird day."

"Not allowed to talk about it?"

I faced her and nodded. She repeated the action without a word of protest. It was different at first; Soyeon was always so eager to be involved in every part of my life, and when I told her that I couldn't disclose information about the cases I was working on for legal reasons, she got upset. But after a while, she understood that it was out of my control.

Instead, she extended an arm out to me. I shuffled closer and pressed myself into her side, inhaling her familiar scent of acrylic paint and chai tea.

"You must be tired," she mumbled.

I hummed in response, unable to muster up the energy to force words out. Her head leaned on mine, the way it always used to, except this time was an act of friendship rather than romance.

With every passing moment, my body grew weaker and my eyelids heavier, and after a while, I was unable to resist the tempting call of sleep.

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darkestangel1326 · 4 years

Text

Prologue - This was real life. Right?

Hey lovelies. So I know it is likely no one is going to read this but me but I just had to write this anyway. For me. Posting for the same reason! Fic under the “Keep reading” cut, but here’s how I got here:

This all started when I wondered what would happen if MC was a scientist. Or a science grad student. But then I thought, what would be enough to compel a scientist or science grad student to stop their sciencing realistically for any amount of time? Because as my previous PI says, every scientist becomes a mad scientist at least in one point in their careers for their research - this is especially true for grad students.

Then, I just never understood the whole returning a phone excuse Unknown gave MC to lure her into Rika’s apartment. Like MC, with her own phone, is gonna return a phone she doesn’t even have, just because Unknown was persistent? He even says he’s a student in the States who will eventually return home so what was with the urgency to go to find the owner? If he really wanted to return the phone, he could’ve mailed it since he has the address right? We know he does because he sends MC there. It just always bothered me.

Finally, I wanted to slightly self-insert to make the MC (Emme C.) a bit more human so that it even if you couldn’t change her choices, it would still be entertaining. I heavily relied on second person, to help give it the mystic messenger vibe though I’m not sure it works.

This prologue is some character building for Emme C. (Actual name: Emme Cee), brief OC appearances and, for my sanity, this is all taking place in the US. TBH I’m not even sure how deep I want to go with this story. I just know I needed to write it.

So without further ado!

“My biggest fear and why? Hmmm,” you mulled it over and took another sip of your beer, after your lab mates glared at you for an answer.

Or former labmates - you were leaving for grad school in a few weeks so this was kind of your farewell social. Even with your general distaste of beer, even you had to admit this one was really good.

You closed your eyes and sheepishly rubbed your neck. “This is gonna sound weird but a time loop,” you answered hesitantly. “It just makes me uneasy to be stuck in never-ending cycle, replaying the same scenario over and over again with no end in sight.”

“True but we are in academic research!” Marie answered, a teasing lilt to her voice that transformed into a chuckle.

“Yeah you might have to deal with it during your Masters program, especially the thesis stage.” Whitney continued, joining in with a laugh.

“Don’t remind me,” you giggled as you took another sip - a longer sip - of your beer. “But that’s not exactly what I mean either” you persisted, a bit more seriously.

I’m afraid of replaying the same day, the same events, the same interactions over and over again, not knowing why or how to stop it,” you finished more seriously. You took another sip of the fizzy drink and felt your equilibrium teeter a bit.

“You mean like that movie Groundhog Day?” Aurora quietly inserted.

“I haven’t seen that movie but if it’s like what I said, then yes, that’s it,” you answered, your fizzy drink now gone.

“Sorry wait. Why are you afraid of time loops? I think I missed that part. Wouldn’t replaying the same day and seeing how your choices change events be a good thing?” Sally asked. Technically, she was completely right - repeatability was one of the sacred ideals of science after all. Plus, If you really thought about it, you hadn’t actually said why you’re afraid of time loops, just that you are.

“I’m afraid of never moving forward - of never progressing, no matter how hard I try or work. A time loop means, yes, I’ll know what my choices would entail, but not how to escape or what the triggering event for my release could be. I could replay the time period of the same few weeks but for years without knowing how to escape and move on. And, I guess, since it took me so long to even start my Master’s and I felt like I might never be able to, this fear was just born,” you admitted, pouring more beer for yourself.

I mean an actual time loop where every single thing happens the exact same way, down to the underlying rhythm of conversation. And where you can’t escape until you figure out the common problem then fix it. How would you escape it? And what if you mess up, in different ways, forever? Who would want that?!

—————————————————————————

You awoke with a sigh, realizing you had that dream again. Or was it a flashback since this happened a few weeks ago? You shrugged your shoulders and got to work sorting boxes. You were set to start on-campus work in a few weeks so you were just trying to do the bare minimum research wise. Plus, you wanted to really focus on decorating your new apartment and get acquainted with the town since you’d be living there for the next few years.

After a few hours of scrambling and organizing, you sat on the floor (you were still in the process of buying furniture), and looked at your emails.

One in particular caught your attention, so much so that you took off your glasses and rubbed your eyes, almost laughing at such a cartoony response. The subject line of this email was what confused you. It read “missing research paper - need citation”. It was an unfamiliar email, moreover, it was sent to your previous college email, which was linked to your past research publications.

Curious, you bit the inside of your cheek and read the email.

“Dear Emme,

Hope this email finds you well. I am a student from XXX University and have been working on a research project concerning XXX. Your research was one of the most recent and prominent examples as to why this area needs further study, however, I have not been able to access the paper I saved as a bookmark in my web browser. After extensive searching, I have been unable to find the original paper or even one of the articles that referenced it - almost as if the article has completely disappeared from existence! Is there a reason the research article is gone? If not, could you provide me with an idea of where it is and the proper citation for my research article?”

what. whAT. WHAT!?

Your research couldn’t be gone! This didn’t make any sense! Yes it was a few years old, but it couldn’t be gone from the web! There are research papers from the 1960s that are archived and accessible online for goodness sake!

You had to calm down. Take deep breaths. You continued trying to breathe as you pulled out your research flash drive. You looked for the paper on your there and found it, sighing in relief. It grounded you, reminding you that your work did exist. Just as you were set to attach the file and corresponding citation to the email, your internet stopped.

Scratch that, your entire laptop stopped.

You groaned. Yes, this was an older, refurbished model, but it’s been working fine. The screen distorted for a second, as if the extra pixel boxes emphasized the frozen nature of your screen. Before you even had time to process it, your laptop unfroze and you breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank heavens. You had just moved and weren’t sure you could realistically afford a new laptop anytime soon. As you look over your screen, however, your relief shifts to panic.

omg. oMG. OMG!

It’s gone. Your research files. The ones on your laptop and on your flash drive. The email is gone. Before you can refresh the page you get logged out. You can’t even log into your old email account - Error 404 Not Found.

Your heart races. Then, it aches. You worked so hard on those projects. They were part of your scientific fabric and now both were just gone. Your years of work, gone in seconds.

You felt like crying. But you decide not to, at least not until you’re in the shower where the tears can blend in with the cascading liquid as you sing emo music.

For now, you decide a quick walk and some fresh air are what you need, so you grab your keys and head for the mailbox. You’ve only lived in this apartment for a week but you check the mail constantly in an effort to get in the habit rather than because you expect something.

But today, you did get something. A small parcel with no return address. Curious, you take that and the grocery flyers to your apartment and open the package there.

A phone? It’s from the same company as yours, just a slightly older model.

You blink at it, almost telepathically asking it what it’s doing in your mailbox. You decide to turn it in to the mail service and are about to put it back in its envelope when you notice a note.

“Charge me”

“What the hell is going on today?” You mutter as you pull out your charger and plug it into the phone.

You sit on the floor with this new phone in hand and sigh. “Why am I even taking orders from a mysterious note for anyway?”

Just then the screen lights up. There’s no passcode so opening the phone was super easy. The phone’s screen and minimal app selection almost made you think it was new, but the lack of setting it up told you that wasn’t the case. Who would buy this phone and not use it? And why did they send it to you?

There is one app that calls to you, mostly because you’ve never seen it before. And because it was unlike the rest of the default apps on the screen.

RFA? What’s that?

Just then, the screen turns dark and green characters zoom up through the screen. You sucked with all tech but even you knew this reaction was abnormal. You swore you didn’t press the app but seeing the phone continue reacting, you become less confident.

“Hello?”

You stare at the screen. ‘Unknown’ was messaging you.

You respond. Stupidly. Naively. And without thinking about the consequences.

Because this was real life. Right?

What’s the worse that could happen?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I’m debating taking this next part a few routes...we’ll see what I decide...

If you, by any chance made it all the way down here, can you drop a reblog or something with your thoughts? Was Emme Cee likable? Did the flow make sense? Do you like where this is going? Let me know!

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme fic prologue #DA writes #This was Real Life. Right?

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raven-wraith · 4 years

Text

StarVIEW Valley (get it?)

I am a gamer of many passions. Most of these passions extend mostly into games that offer numerous ways to brutalize and maim your adversaries (such as Mortal Kombat or The Witcher) or games that have adversaries that brutalize and maim me (such as Bloodborne or Outlast). So when I was finally finished with acquiring every achievement in Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice(1), I needed a break from it all. The killing. The being killed. So in an effort to flip the script, I went to the otherside of the spectrum of gaming. That’s where I found one of my new biggest passions to date. That passion is called Stardew Valley.

The game begins with a simple soundtrack and a main menu. A background of green hills, flying birds, and blue skies as the title comes from the top of the screen. There are four buttons. New, Load, Co-op, and Exit. While it’s a small pick of things to do, most main menus are on the first boot. But, immediately, the care to detail is noticed.

Not on my first pickup or even my fifth did I notice that there is a counter at the bottom of the screen that notifies you on how many times you have logged in. Clicking on things in this screen reveals secret easter eggs, all of which are adorable to look at. I knew I would enjoy this game even since then.

Stardew Valley has surpassed the perception of wholesomeness and has ascended, wait, transcended to a volume equivalent to a playable Bob Ross painting where everyone you meet is a form of Fred Rogers’ mind. I think the most important pieces that make up and come from Stardew Valley is it’s development and the message it sends while you play it. The game handles lots of things impressively well, but the three mentioned topics are the driving factors of gameplay for me.

“The title is made by a multimillion dollar corporation with over four hundred people working on this sole project, all of which was shown at E3 only to have a massive graphics downgrade on release.” That sentence is what I would write if it was true. Stardew was created by one computer science major(2) who decided he didn’t like how Harvest Moon(3) games were going/were being made. So he dedicated his time to making this game, delving into his artistic views to make the game come to life even more.

After some time, he reached out to Reddit and Twitter for his progress updates, to which he was returned with waves and waves of support from the online community. What went from a small project soon turned into his full time investment. Once Chucklefish came on board to help carry the load of publishing the game, Ape went and set his days on polishing the game the best he could before initial release.

And thank goodness he did.

The game was a success. Is a success. With over ten million copies sold by January 2020, ConcernedApe still to this day works on patching bugs, adding content, and discussing the future of the game in online forums. This direction of development was not only eye-opening to me, but it’s admirable in its own right.

The charm from that is enough to be portrayed into the game. Every detail, every spoken word from the NPCs and every pixel on the monsters in the mine was drawn and rendered from one mind. That level of dedication to this craft is so impressive that the weight of that notion carries throughout the gameplay. To know that so many mechanics were programmed in C# by one person astonishes me, and the returns tell us that many others feel the same way.

Next, the message of the game. It’s introspective, it’s mature, it’s prominent but not obvious. Basically:

Fuck Capitalism.

I mean, fuck wasting your life away behind a desk without connecting to those around you in a world where human interaction should not be as forced as it should be welcomed.

From the prologue, prior to your adventure to Stardew Valley, your call to action comes in the form of a letter from your grandfather. Trapped in your cubicle in the fictional company Joja’s office, you have finally grown tired of the stale lifestyle you’ve been leading. Opening the letter, you read about the property your grandfather left you. You head to his home. Once you arrive, your game starts.

This entire exchange of scenery, world building, and story takes place in under ten minutes. However, it is executed perfectly. The theme carries over in town once you realize there are two places to get your groceries, a Joja Market and Pierre’s General Store. The game makes a point of competition between these two establishments and it’s direction is influenced from the player’s involvement to love nature.

I believe that this was excellently done. It all revolves around a place where little fairies live, all of which need your help rebuilding their broken home. Now you can help them find their precious food and crafts or you can buy a membership at Joja like some kind of toxic, stupid, disrespectful, horrible, waste of space human filth that smells bad. I took to helping them with my good nature. I’ve run around, collecting only the most beautiful flowers and harvesting the dankest crops to give to those little bitch fairies to see that center bloom to life.

And I loved it. I loved it so much that when the Joja manager showed up to make a statement after I had repaired the entire establishment, I was gratified to see Pierre duke it out with this man. ConcernedApe took an approach to seeing past business in such an appealing way that I never once thought of it as a chore, let alone as a rebellion against societal standards.

Stardew Valley is a special experience. You can’t just continue to play games without giving this one a fair chance. It’s cute, it’s handcrafted, and I think most importantly, it’s completely unique in its delivery. While influences from other games and works of art are present, it’s safe to say that Stardew Valley goes above and beyond the usual farming simulator or dating RPG. Good job ConcernedApe, I will be returning to that farm almost constantly.

My statement still stands.

Fuck Capitalism.

(1) From Software’s newest title, a new IP from their universally acknowledged Dark Souls series.

(2) Nerd.

(3) A farming simulator released in 1996, which is still continued to be made.

#more stuff from my boyfriend #orova #oro lion #video games #stardew valley #game reviews #quarantine #corona suggestions

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loyalflutist · 5 years

Text

Fodlan Holy Grail War (Chapter 1)

Characters present: Edelgard, Dimitri, Claude, Hubert, Ferdinand, Petra, Dorothea, Bernadetta, Caspar, Linhardt, Ingrid, Felix, Sylvain, Dedue, Mercedes, Annette, Ashe, Leonie, Lorenz, Lysithea, Raphael, Ignatz, Hilda, Marianne, Rhea, Flayn, Seteth, Catherine, Hanneman, Manuela, Byleth Pairings: Felix x Annette, slight Hilda x Marianne, very slight Edelgard x f!Byleth (Edeleth)

A/N: So... this is a lengthy chapter... and I didn’t expect to become lengthy. Most of my old chapters in my old series range between 3k - 5k maximum. This? It was 6.8k+. It burnt me out, lol. However, I had fun sticking as many characters as I possibly can for the first chapter! Hope you all enjoy this. :) I had fun writing it.

Previous Chapter: Prologue Next Chapter: Chapter 1

----

“I hope my kid gets in.”

“He’s a commoner. You know they only enlist the richest of the rich.”

“Are you sure about that? There are some students who aren’t from nobility.”

“Yeah, but they have to have a Crest.”

“That’s wrong.”

“No, you’re wrong. They need to have the Crest.”

“My daughter will find a worthy partner!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Why not just marry her off to some rich noble?”

“My grandchildren’s future would be secured if they get in.”

“I can finally find a worthy opponent.”

“I’ll never get in…”

“Cheers!”

Commoners and nobilities mingled and exchanged powerful wishes and lamentations unto each other. Whether they spoke to those that wear their aromatic perfumes in large dosage or to those that wore nothing more than tattered rags, they chirped and frolicked like birds. It was as if a festival bloomed in all three nations simultaneously. Celebrations and haughty statements were tossed around like playthings. Anxiety and tears shed from the inevitable truths. Anticipations gnawed at their mangled souls.

Everyone knew what this month entails. Every five years, on the Guardian Moon (January), a letter from the archbishop would be sent to prospective students throughout the continent. Wings fluttered about over the population. Bells chimed in the background to signal the start of sunset. Stray feathers lazily descended upon the land from the orange sky. Children would squeal and leap, their hands outstretched to catch the pure object, the adults staring intently at the flock like predators. Many elders sunk to their knees, their clasped hands violently trembled, prayers muttered with incredible speed.

All for an invitation to Garreg Mach Monastery.

Its name easily rolls off from one’s tongue. Not more than 50 years had passed when the holy institution was instated as an academy for the continent, yet it managed to pridefully puff its chest. It is a prestigious academy so many yearned to attend. Only the best of the best was considered. After all, the monastery welcomed its gifted students with open arms for opportunities they would never get anywhere else. Future leaders and heroic warriors were products of the school’s program. Not a single student dropped out of each academic term. Everything must glisten in gold. Accepting mediocrity would sully their pristine image.

The Adrestian Empire, the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and the Leicester Alliance were invited to send over their best civilians. Letters were mailed out by white owls to potential candidates; details about the invitations and academic programs sunk its sweet tooth into their recipients.

“Looks like things are about to get serious,” the brown-haired grinned, his scroll crinkled in his grip. He glanced at the wide-eyed bird. Still smiling, he slid over to his right, his hand outstretched to the thin utensil. “It doesn’t hurt to spend five years in training.”

It was as if he had outlined his course of action down cold. Hesitation was never his middle name, anyway. Past the basked warmth of his private quarters, into the corridor, Hilda peered from the corner like a Peeping Tom. Hark, she was not the only person guilty! Various members arched their neck, their head, their ears craving for delicious news.

Claude von Riegan snagged a nearby feathered pen on his desk. The young lad dipped its tip into an inkpot and fluidly circled his response on the smoothed letter. His wrist haphazardly flicked within seconds for a signature.

Submission of his response granted him the role of House Leader for the Golden Deer House from the Leicester Alliance. Hilda, Raphael, Ignatz, Marianne, Lysithea, Leonie, and Lorenz were chosen by the Church of Seiros to follow him that fateful day.

“My Lord, will you be going?”

Another young male held the letter. He shifted the crinkled paper, his bright hues aimed at his closest friend. Dedue’s inquiry caused a soft hum to sing from the blonde. At that same moment, the owl tilted its head, a soft coo harmonic.

“I will,” he twirled the feathered pen, his lips firmed, and his voice solemn. “If this will let me redeem the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus to its former glory, then I will attend.”

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd pressed his utensil unto the thick parchment. There was a circular motion of his wrist, and, shortly afterward, zig-zagged it for a signature.

Submission of his response granted him the role of House Leader for the Blue Lions House from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Felix, Sylvain, Ingrid, Ashe, Dedue, Mercedes, and Annette were chosen by the Church of Seiros to follow him that fateful day.

“Everything is falling in place,” the white-haired grimaced, her fingertips unsteadily smoothing amongst the moist palms. “I must accept the invitation.”

“Are you certain, Lady Edelgard?”

Hubert stood in her shadows. No— he is her shadow. His second posture flickered in time with the lonesome candle. She completely unfolded the scroll to the owl’s supervision. The feathered ally blinked once. She nodded. Then, the young gentleman rested a hand on his chest, the darkness discoloring the smooth beauty of his porcelain pale skin. He bowed deeper than any loyal retainer would to their lord.

Edelgard von Hresvelg stroked the application with grace and delicacy. Weaves danced upon the page in a singular motion of her wrist.

Submission of her response granted her the role of House Leader for the Black Eagles House from the Adrestian Empire. Dorothea, Petra, Hubert, Ferdinand, Caspar, Linhardt, and Bernadette were chosen by the Church of Seiros to follow her that fateful day.

Everything has been set into stone. Owls hooted their final call to the upcoming students, their wings flapped in tempo. Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude watched from high above, their pupils directed at the glistening land. The white bird was soon nothing more than a dot in the vast, orange sky. They shifted the weight on their feet, their grip tightening on the opened window's edge, their eyelids fluttered from the pleasant breeze flowing parts of their locks, all conducted simultaneously in a symphony. Now, the students must wait for the Great Tree Moon (April).

-----

Harpstring Moon (May). It has been one month since their arrival; one month at the famous Garreg Mach Monastery. Lengthy orientations and settlement were slowing to a standstill. Booming chatters and flurried excitement comfortably dipped into dignified and refined tranquility. Almost everyone had familiarized themselves with their surroundings and colleagues. Those that did not would quickly catch up.

Lady Rhea, standing in her bedroom, slowly exhaled. Birds chirped in volumes that penetrated the glassed barrier, their small bodies soaring to everlasting freedom. Tis’ the season for Spring to reach the finishing line. Their eventual retirement would pave way for the new, blistering season. She blinked. Both of her hands were raised, fingers intertwined, palms impressed, and head lowered; her silent prayers ushered into nothingness.

“Lady Rhea, how are you faring?”

Seteth stood at the doorway. Rigidity colored his posture, his bright hues gently lay to rest upon the holy maiden’s figure, to which it was drummed with the afternoon heat. She remained still and unmoving from her prayer. The same could not be said about her thin lips, its movement as casual as it could get.

“You need not worry about me, Seteth, but I am well.”

“I see.”

“How are the students?”

The songs from those birds increased in frequency. Melodies tinkered to their eardrums, their notes bouncing about within their heart, their natural passion embracing their souls. Seteth smiled in response.

“Noisy as ever.”

He could only use euphemism to describe it all.

The first month was beyond hectic. “Noisy” hardly captured the real image. Light tremors reverberated throughout the monastery. Overwhelming energy eradicated the lonesome premise once home to mere foot soldiers and bodyguards. Everyone had their eyes on each other. Crow’s feet were an epidemic as they exchanged formal greetings; some informal, such as Mercedes and Annette, where friendly hugs and kisses were given and received. An aromatic smoke wafted from the large cafeteria, sucking the population’s majority into its already-crowded site, the hopes of alleviating the chaos from outside.

“H-Hey! Linhardt, why aren’t you letting me grab thirds?!” Caspar’s reach trembled, his sight glued to the meaty target. “I’m really hungry!”

“Did you forget that there are other students in line after you?” Linhardt shook his head. “We need to leave some for them.”

“It’s a first-come, first-serve basis.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I’m going to starve!”

“You will not.”

“Yes, I will!”

“I suggest you change your eating habits then. It won’t hurt missing one drumstick from your diet.”

“LINHARDT!”

It is unfortunate traffic began to jam from the inside, its chaotic nature having shifted to a new location.

“Oi, are you both done yet?”

Felix felt his vein bulge from his head, his piercing eyes sparing no one. His metallic tray gloried its empty content before the bickering duo. Their shoulders slumped as their jaws clamped. Caspar would normally argue. It was his nature to counter a sharp response with another sharp response, albeit slightly weaker. Yet his blood stiffened at the sight. Linhardt shook his head again.

“Oh dear… It’s time we find a seat.”

An apology was delivered swiftly to his doorstep and they promptly removed themselves from the counter. The young male rubbed a couple of fingers against his temple, a huff escaping.

“Thank God they’re gone. They’re so annoying.”

“Felix, you shouldn’t say that!” Annette popped her head in with a bow. She gazed upon the sword-wielder with puffed cheeks. “Besides, they’re just getting food.”

“They were holding up the line, Ann.”

“You could’ve asked them politely.”

“Well, it’s too late for that now.”

“I think you should change your scary expression.”

“Oh, really?”

“I admit, it’s not as scary as Dimitri, but you should really smile more often.”

He scoffed. Felix plopped a chunk of sliced steak onto his newly placed plate riddled with greeneries and bread. His eyes slanted, turned towards Annette, and proceeded to drop a large quantity of meat onto her plate, despite her earlier objections.

“I would never be like the Boar Prince.”

“If you say so. I still think you should smile more in public.”

“…”

“Felix?”

“Annette,” the two have stepped away from the elongated counter, swooped down to press his lips upon her cheek. It left a tingly aftermath on Annette’s rosy cheeks, her feet tangled from an accidental crooked misstep. Felix freed one hand and intercepted her fall. Their faces were in short proximity, their breaths puffed amongst each other’s skin. Flames sharply ignited their skin with a roar as he whispered, “I want to shower you and only you with my smiles.”

“F-Felix…”

“Wow~ Take it to the bedroom, you two.”

Felix and Annette snapped their heads up. Seated from one of the table’s end, Leonie, Hilda, Marianne, and Ashe watched the two interact. Hilda smirked, her tongue holding no restraint. Besides her, the weary blue-haired student anxiously tugged on the pink-haired’s sleeve. Inaudible utters tumbled out of her parted lips, her pleas unheard by the female. As for Ashe and Leonie, they did their best to eat in silence, yet their ears perked for worthwhile events. Felix narrowed his eyes.

“You got a lot of nerve saying that to us, Hilda.”

“Felix—”

“Relax, Ann, I’m not going to hurt her.”

He approached the sitting Golden Deer. Though his hands were occupied, his mouth was not, and he happily made use of it. Verbiage intent on reprimanding filled the silent void Hilda purposely created. She plopped her chin on the palm of her hand, unblinking, and possibly bored out of her mind. Hilda did not bother to stifle her yawn either, letting it loose for the whole world to witness. Marianne felt parts of her soul fly out of her body, and dread shadowed over her eyes.

“Hilda, please apologize to him…” Marianne pleaded, her tugs becoming more apparent. “We… don’t want to cause trouble again…”

“Again…?” Annette raised a brow. “It’s only the first day we’ve been here.”

“Um… well… We accidentally broke a merchant’s axe…”

“How so?”

“Hil— I…. crashed into it—”

“Marianne! It was me, silly!” Hilda had done a complete 180 and swerved her attention to the shorter female. The energy that lay dormant bubbled to the surface, her arms pulling her friend into a tight embrace. Marianne felt her strength wither as her eyes widened. The sensation of her weight was still in her arms as Hilda glanced over at Annette. “It was me. I broke it. Not her.”

“…really?”

“Yes! I actually broke it with my bare hand!”

“Are you sure you aren’t covering up for her—”

“I. Did. It.”

“Hey! Why are you ignoring me!?”

“Pipe down, Felix,” Leonie waved her fork. “I’m trying to eat here!”

“Oi, Hilda started it!”

“And you continued!”

“Why are people so— You know what? Nevermind.”

“Hah? Could you elaborate on your unfinished statement?”

“I think this conversation is over, comrade.”

“Fine!”

Felix and Leonie fumed. Imaginary puffs of air emanated the dramatists. Soap opera would want to take note of their interactions for the next spectacular feature. Ashe began to laugh after settling the metallic mug onto the table.

“It sure is lively.”

“Lively? I think it’s outright noisy.”

The orange-haired promptly slugged his shoulder. Ashe ran out of language, incoherent sound effects elicited, and his hand furiously rubbing the affected area. His endurance is above average. He had an innate ability to run longer, burn faster, and bear far more than an ordinary boy similar in age and stature. If given the chance, his splendors would be renowned at the monastery. Yet he underestimated the power of a person called “Leonie.”

“Ow… You don’t hold your punches back, do you?”

“Why should I?”

“…”

Women are scary! Leonie especially! Such prowess that bundled and coiled in the young girl… How is that possible!? Sweat flew from his head dramatically as Leonie jabbed her fork into another piece of protein, its squelch muted from the rowdy setting. Felix fingers ran through his black hair, Annette appearing back by his side and pulling on his arm.

Ignatz and Raphael, who sat on the opposite end, pinned their gaze upon the small group. Flailing of arms, subjectless exclamations, and unnecessary lamentations painted the group as a form of entertainment.

“Ignatz, you think they’ll ever stop?”

“I don’t think so…”

“Why can’t they take it out on the training ground? I heard it’s good for sparring.”

The young boy shrugged his shoulders. As if on cue, the level of noise had risen. Vocals were lost amidst the background, his lips moving without sound.

“— - –—"

It went on for a couple of seconds, hinting of its lengthy content. Raphael was unable to grasp any of them; not a single peep was grasped and stuffed into his eardrums. He leaned forward, his muscular chest pressed upon the extended furniture, and tried to hear his artsy friend.

“——-—"

Raphael frowned. Under normal circumstances, one would speak up. This was not the case for the mighty brawn.

In contrast to their curiosity, Mercedes and Ferdinand could not bear to look. The mantle of responsible dependency rest over the duo’s shoulders.

“This is turning out to be a lively first day,” Mercedes giggled, her spoon scooping bits of the honeyed porridge. She tucked a stray strand behind her ear, her long eyelashes fluttering. “I hope it will stay this way for a long time.”

“It will happen if you strongly believe in it,” Ferdinand motioned.

His absurd confidence resonated in her heart, the healer shooting a glance. An amused hum stroked his taste buds once he took another bite from the salad bowl, oblivious to the probing gaze. She tilted her head. There had to be discrepancies with his proclamations and reality. Mercedes is a devout believer for religion and charity, but even she knows about the harsh conditions real-life posed.

“How could you be so sure?”

“Because I am Ferdinand von Aegir.”

“…oh! I… see.”

Did she expect something deeper from him?

“…”

He beamed. She reciprocated with a beam of her own. Maybe she was asking too much from him.

Nearby the four eaters, a black shadow zipped by. None of them had sensed the abnormality. Another shadow scurried after the first foreigner. That was when their sight and auditory senses kicked in.

“Was that Sylvain?” Raphael blinked. “What’s he doing?”

“I’m not too sure… It’s probably not something good, knowing him.”

“You think so too, Ferdinand?”

“I can attest to that, fufu~”

A shudder ran down Ignatz’s spine. “Y-You’re kind of scaring me, Mercedes…”

“PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Students standing and nestled near one of the four doorways nearly went into cardiac arrest, their hands immediately resting over the wildly thumping organ. Glares and bewilderment shot at the fatigued girl. Bernadetta had burst from the cafeteria. Under normal circumstances, she would cower from their dagger-like stares. However, their eyes were the least of her problems…

“W-Where… Where can I go?!”

She had to run. She had to hide. She had to disappear.

Hot behind her trail was Sylvain. The young noble tossed his hand out to the doorway’s border. He grunted, his firm fingers curled inward, and swung his body out into the open with a sharp turn.

“Bernadetta!” he hollered. “Come back here, will you!?”

The fluttering of loose-leaf papers threatened to fly away like a bird from his grip, an entrapped victim desiring for release. Sylvain’s fast feet neared the writer, but he was careless. Smooth as the road may be, the pathways were littered with specks of debris, with some large enough to warrant a red flag.

“WHOA!”

He stumbled forward. Life danced before his eyes, Sylvain’s arms frantically mimicking wings, his frail balance with gravity fractured. Sweat poured from his pores and his breath hitched. Multiple half-steps pitter and pattered in front of one another while incoherent outcries sputtered. By the time he reconnected with the earth by kissing its pavement, the papers had all flown away to its yearnful freedom.

Bells chimed throughout the academic ground as tens of scribbled sheets scattered the clear blue sky. Day owls hooted, its wide eyes estimating the distance of its haphazard counterpart during its flight. Five of the wonderful creatures flapped and urged forward into the open plane.

High above the training ground, they traveled with sporadic battle shouts emitted from Ingrid and Petra. Two partners clunk and smacked their wooden sword.

“Haaaaah—!”

Petra swung the blunt end down. Ingrid immediately adjusted her posture, her knees bent, and her right foot slid backward. The knight raised her weapon vertically.

‘ CLUNK! ‘

Comma sweats crawled down to her chin as Ingrid felt her wrist creak. Petra’s feet returned back to earth, but not without applying an extra layer of pressure onto her opponent’s wooden sword, her arms shoved forward with a grunt. Ingrid nearly bit her lower lip, a tiny lump traveling down her throat. The Brigid princess is strong.

“Take this!”

The knight instantly reduced her strength. Petra’s figure lurched forward from the unexpected loss of equilibrium, her stability with gravity disrupted. Ingrid sidestepped to provide room for her fall. She elegantly twirled the training wood at hand and thrust it outward to “stab” Petra.

“Oh my gosh…” Dorothea watched from the distant, her hand covering her mouth. Petra had twisted her body enough during the collapse to avoid the assault. The songstress clutched her chest, small clumps of her brown hair clung to her moist forehead. “This is so stressful to watch.”

The two wonderful ladies sparred to test their might and the two had asked Dorothea to be the judge. But… who should she cheer for? Petra came from her house, but Ingrid was always there for her since the day they stepped foot. It didn’t help that they were both a beauty. Luscious hair, bountiful maturity, toned figures, delicate fleeting touches— Wait, why was she thinking about that?! She underwent her own mighty battle as the clunking of the wooden blades continuously overlapped.

Surprisingly, not one page had descended upon the monastery’s ground. The owls gave another hoot. High above the marketplace, they traveled and Lysithea, Lorenz, Hubert, and Dedue stood amongst the growing crowd.

“Ugh, I think that’s unfashionable,” Lorenz shook his head, his hand resting on his forehead. “I would expect better from you.”

“That’s rude to say that to them!” Lysithea elbowed the taller male. She furrowed her brows. “You know they’ve traveled far out here to sell their goods. Give them a break.”

“Unfortunately, if they were passionate, their products wouldn’t like this.”

“Lorenz!”

“It belongs in the U-category for ugliness.”

Unfortunately for the two, the merchant they were squabbling in front of began to see red. His shaky hands extended outward to the broom. The still shadow of fury washed over his eyes, his wooden stick slapped the stall’s pole. Both visitors felt beads of sweat fly out of their heads at the newfound sight. Death rarely crossed their minds, but today was one of them.

“It was nice visiting your shop, mister!”

Lorenz was about to follow the praising Lysithea when— oopsie! He was shoved towards the furious owner! A shriek slipped out after a narrow escape from certain doom, the stick walloped the ground mere centimeters from bodily contact.

“LYSITHEA!”

Hubert and Dedue glanced over to the rowdy Golden Deer.

“My, how unpleasant,” Hubert grumbled. He snapped shut one of the two spellbooks in his hands. “If Lady Edelgard would be disturbed by these silly activities, I would have to do something about it.”

“I object,” Dedue crossed his arms. “I understand where you are coming from, but that is not the correct way to serve your lord.”

“Excuse me, did I ask for your opinion.”

“No, but it is something I had to say.”

Hubert narrowed his eyes. “I think it would be wise for you to keep your opinion to yourself, Dedue.”

“…”

Dedue resisted the temptation to sigh. Out of all the students he had met, he knew they would have a rickety relationship. Perhaps they will never see eye-to-eye, and perhaps that will never happen. Nonetheless, their upmost loyalty to their lord was commendable. Hubert respected Dedue for serving Dimitri, and Dedue respected Hubert for serving Edelgard.

Past the students, more students arrived from all three nations like little ants through the gate. The gatekeeper’s cheerful “Welcome!” brightened their spirit for their new life. They were going to spend the next five years working, challenging, learning, loving, and forging bonds. It was an opportunity not many were granted.

They came in all different sizes and shapes. Some were from nobility. They were given special treatment by the Church, their accommodations sate the high-leveled expectations for their living conditions. Many possess some form of Crest, whether it be minor or major. Some were commoners. They were given resources by the Church, their accommodations sate their basic necessities for their living conditions. Very few possess any form of Crest.

House leaders were handpicked and determined by the archbishop, Lady Rhea, since day one. Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, and Claude von Riegan would act as this academic term’s house leaders.

Edelgard von Hresvelg would become house leader for the Black Eagles.

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd would become house leader for the Blue Lions.

Claude von Riegan would become house leader for the Golden Deer.

“And so… we meet again, Dimitri,” Edelgard lowered her teacup. She sat opposite of the blonde, her lilac hues keeping tabs on his every action. “Though I cannot say I didn’t expect this.”

“I agree,” Dimitri chuckled. “Since you did not return to my kingdom, I predicted this might happen. You’ve changed though…”

“In what way?”

“Your hair—”

“That might be for another time.”

The abrupt cut off slashed hard. Dimitri blinked a couple of times in silence, his teacup returned to the clothed mat. Loveliest of all trees ruffled from overhead as a breeze smoothed their exposed skin. He lowered his eyes, a heavy weight nestled between his shoulder blades.

“Perhaps another time.”

Though silence should have followed, Claude intertwined his fingers, chin rested on them, elbows on the table, and tilted his head.

“What shouldn’t be saved for another time is how you both know each other. Spill me the tea.”

“I don’t know, Claude,” Dimitri bitterly smiled. “It’s a long story.”

“I agree. It might sour our teatime session too.”

“Aw, you’re both no fun,” the young man smirked. “Why not tell me? I promise to tell you something in exchange.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know… Maybe about my past too.”

“Hoh… That’s quite a trade.”

“Trust me. Here, I’ll give you a little snippet, free of charge,” Claude straightened his posture and coughed into his fist. “Not too long ago, I bumped into two fabulous people. They were of nobility, yet they seem to know each other.”

“Claude…”

“One was a cute little princess, and one was a grumpy looking prince.”

“Claude.”

“And I hope we could become good friends.”

“CLAUDE.”

Edelgard and Dimitri overlapped, their cheeks flushed. Claude placed his hands behind his head and winked.

“It’s a good story, don’t you think?”

-----

Now, a month scampered forward, to where Seteth, Rhea, Flayn, and Catherine stood inside of the holy church ground. Seteth was bent down, his fingers brushing black ink on the pristine surface, faint squeaks occasionally cracking the still atmosphere. Flayn bent forward in a similar fashion, hands behind her back, and observing the process. Those paired bright hues, accompanied by a smile, flickered between her older brother and the ritual drawings.

“I’m excited to see who the new professors and staff are.”

Garreg Mach Monastery had a tradition every five years: the Garreg Summoning Ritual. Led by the Church of Seiros and its headmaster, Lady Rhea, this was one of the many options to tackle economical strategies. Funds from the Church were finite; there was only so much their nails could scrape in from donations. So they turned their heads towards a new shining beacon.

Three students from nobility, who would naturally become house leaders, were invited to complete the mandatory summoning ritual. Being chosen as house leaders were not an easy feat. The students had to derive from a long legacy of lineage fit to rise to the role. A large quantity of magical energy, called mana, was required to fulfill their position. This was so they can summon their professors.

Unlike other academic institutions, Rhea expressed this unique tradition for over 50 years. The act of calling forth their instructor would help bolster the students’ performances with a teacher fit for their personalities, attitudes, and beliefs. It was the perfect substitution for conducting costly background checks and hiring of adjuncts and tenures.

“To be honest, Flayn, I’m a little worried who they will be. I still cannot get over the fact one of the students summoned a thief!”

“He was stealing a lot of our supplies, wasn’t he?”

“Unfortunately.”

“If I hadn’t caught him, the church would have been in a pinch.”

Seteth paused. He glanced up from the fresh circle, his chuckle apparent. Catherine, on the sideline, cracked her knuckles.

“I would’ve pummeled him if it weren’t for Flayn.” No moral restraint… a rather prominent feature in very few warriors like her. “The fact that he would take Lady Rhea’s belongings deserved more than a simple execution.”

So long as it was in the name of Lady Rhea, she would chop up her limbs and offer it up to the holy maiden.

“I am certain that would not happen again.” Rhea stepped forward once Seteth rose from his crouch. “I have prayed to the Goddess for good fortune. I can sense that this year will be one that will forever be remembered.”

Catherine’s knuckles suddenly whitened, her grip tightening on the relic’s handle, and jawlines outlined from the smell of fresh meat purifying the distilled air. The double doors creaked. Sharp eyes penetrated the sturdy chests of the incoming house leaders. Claude and Dimitri each pushed one half of the majestic, tall barrier, Edelgard walking between the tall boys. It was picturesque.

Seteth and Flayn returned to Rhea’s side as the archbishop silently motioned her hand down to Catherine. A grunt as she eased her hold, but not without a displeased exhale. The top-ranking Knight served under the name of Seiros stepped back. Her eyes had not left the three students, however.

Archbishop bowed.

“Greetings, House Leaders. I hope you have familiarized yourself with the Officers Academy.”

“I think we’ve had plenty to check around,” Claude said. “One month is enough to make us experts for any visitors.”

His jokes were not received— Rather, Rhea rolled over and onward from his witty remark. She slowly looked at the marked ground.

“I have also requested that you participate in the Garreg Summoning Ritual. You all were required to bring three items that you wish to use for the tradition.”

Then, she returned her gaze to the trio.

“You will be their Master and they will be your Servant. But you will refer to them as your Professor.” Her eyes were crinkled. “Are you prepared?”

Dimitri, Claude, and Edelgard nodded. Their silence following afterward notion the archbishop to beckon them forth.

“Best wishes, my children. May the Goddess watch over you.”

One at a time, they stood in front of the archaic circle, their hands and pockets filled. Compatibility may play a heavy influence on their soulful incantations, but the students’ chosen objects held some degree of control over who their professor would be. They exchanged glances. The question now lies if Lady Luck would bestow her magic for them.

The first to stand is Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. He pieced the three chosen objects with great care upon the circular design. A monocle, a parchment on tactics, and blood from a dying boar preyed the markings. His vial had tipped upside down after a complete stride. Dimitri stuffed the stained glass into his pocket, the metallic iron smeared his and his friends’ olfactory. The Prince of Faerghus raised his hand.

Stanza after stanza riddled the tense environment. Sky blue light illuminated beneath his feet, a gust of wind swirled around the noble, his navy cape flapping in the air. Searing heat crackled into the back of his hand, his brows scrunched, and his stifled cries noticeable. Dimitri’s chants maintain stability. There would be no interruption that would snaffle his delivery.

Bright light blinded everyone on the premise. Edelgard and Claude were forced to shield with their arms, their eyelids squeezed shut for good measures. Catherine, Seteth, and Flayn grimaced from it. Rhea calmly stood out with her holy demeanor. The entire church disappeared for a few seconds from their sight, the sky blue blanketed their vision.

Fine mist surrounded a tall man. The summoned Servant stroke his gray beard, his monocle glistening in-sync with the sunrays, and his thick coat covering all parts of his body, leaving very little room for skin exposure. He spotted the panting Dimitri, the mark of the command seal tattooed on his burning skin. Little attention was given to the others as the elder chuckled.

“So, it appears that I have been summoned by a young gentleman.” He bowed deeply. “I am Hanneman, Archer class.”

“An Archer, huh… You don’t look like one.”

“You think so?” Hanneman cupped his chin. “Then again, you speak of the truth. I am well-versed in the art of magic. As you can tell, I am nothing more than a scholar when I was alive.”

Dimitri nodded, his shaky hands coming to a standstill. It appears that the person he had summoned was not meant to be summoned into this class.

“Yikes… That’s one heck of an L you’re gonna have to take,” Claude shook his head. This bemused the new professor. Yet Dimitri responded in his place.

“I find possibilities where others see limitations, Claude. This is a gift from the Goddess.”

That earned Dimitri a whistle. The Golden Deer House Leader smiled—genuinely in fact—it stroked the blonde’s heart to a slight flutter!

“You might be right… this might be an impressive result in the end.”

Seteth proceeded to cleanse the circle in preparation for Claude as they continued their conversation. Edelgard, who had remained mute, stared down at the palms of her hands. They were violently trembling as if an earthquake descended. Was it from her nerves? She instinctively curled her fingers inward and jammed her nails. In the background, Dimitri pat Claude’s shoulder as he was next in line.

Claude von Riegan took out his belonging. A wooden flute, a package of herbal medicine, and an alcohol bottle. The first two objects held the least shock value compared to the third for both Dimitri and Edelgard. When they expressed wonderment, Claude responded with a playful tone, his hand cautiously spilling the alcoholic content.

“Random chance. I have a feeling this is going to go well.”

“I don’t think you should be horsing around with this…”

“Relax, Dimi, I got this.”

He mimicked his friend’s action after settling the empty container on the ground. Hand extended outward, his lips parted, and golden light circulated the ritual. The wind blew into their figures once again as his chants became louder. Compared to Dimitri, he was able to bear through the flaming sharpel from the forceful engraving of the command seal for the most part.

This time, the newcomer was a woman. Dressed to impress, her beauty radiating in conjunction with her angelic voice, the Servant boasts her skillsets to the witnesses.

“I am Manuela. Songstress, physician, Caster class, and available, I look forward to working with you, Claude.”

Boastful? Perhaps, but Claude sees the positive trait from it. Though some may think otherwise.

“How haughty.”

An unusual remark from Hanneman. Dimitri, Claude, and Edelgard diverted their attention to the older male, his features tinged with displeasure. Manuela felt a strong pulsation from the corner of her head. The Caster opened her mouth, paused, then clamped it close. She dryly swallowed and waved her hand.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, Hanneman. Wouldn’t want to look back in front of my new Master.”

Claude felt a nervous chortle erupt from his throat. His and Dimitri’s Servants are going to have a field day with each other… Their eyes shifted to the quiet female. Not a peep from the princess. Her nerves must have gotten the best of her, her figure stiff as a stick. They wonder… what could make her so nervous?

Their pondering continued as Seteth wiped and swept the remaining materials from the ritual. Rhea motioned once more for the final summoner. Edelgard inhaled deeply. She held it. Then, she exhaled.

Finally, it was Edelgard von Hresvelg’s turn. In her grasp were three items. Just like Dimitri and Claude, they were special in their own way. They picked it with careful consideration. For Edelgard, she had found these materials from the Red Canyon. Ferdinand and Hubert had accompanied her for the abrupt trip. Compared to Claude and Dimitri, she felt a strong, magnetic pull to the location. It was almost as if it were calling for her.

A rustic piece from a shattered sword, a torn patch from a dark overcoat, and… that was it.

“Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation Let my great Master Hresvelg be the ancestor”

Rhea widened her eyes when she spotted the white-haired unsheathing the dagger from behind.

“Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.”

Its slithering blade shone as Edelgard brought it high above her head. Catherine reached for her sword, her wrist prepared.

“I hereby declare Your body shall serve under me.”

The tip moved in a curvature. A crimson line was left in its wake, the blood oozing out of her self-infliction.

“My fate shall be your sword.”

She tilted her hand despite the throbbing aches scratching underneath her cut.

“Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail If you will submit to this will and this reason… Then answer!”

Gentle vermillion light encapsulated everyone present. Its rays brightened with each drip of her blood, her offering sating the slumbering Servant. At that same moment, a fiery ignition dragged burning hot iron on the back of her hand. Edelgard bit back a whimper. She grabbed ahold of her extended wrist with pinched features.

“An oath shall be sworn here! I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven. I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!”

A gust far more powerful than that from previous sessions threatened to fling the students away. Seteth and Catherine had embraced Flayn and Rhea respectively, their feet rooted to the vibrating floors. Dimitri and Claude struggled to keep afoot. Their narrowed eyes peered through the slits as Edelgard forced herself upright. The grip that kept her wrist in place squeezed until her blood circulation drastically slowed.

“From the Heaven, attended to by three great words of power Come forth from the ring of restraints, Protector of the Holy Balance!”

Just like Dimitri and Claude’s session, white light enveloped their five senses.

“…”

Smoke lingered in the air, but at the center of the summoning circle, no one had appeared. Everyone waited with bated breaths. Seconds transitioned into a minute. The silence was all that resulted. She glanced down at the back of her injured hand. The aching red mark resembling that of an unknown Crest seared into her skin. Yet this excruciating process yielded no Servant.

“…why?”

Edelgard sunk to her knees.

Had she failed? Was this all a fluke in the end? Edelgard groveled at the tainted ground, her magma-red blood engulfing the entirety of her wounded palm in its flames. The command seal was still present. What did she do wrong? Tears spurted from her lacrimal glands, those salty substances hurried to separate from her skin and onto the flat surface. Claude and Dimitri exchanged worrisome glances.

“Edelgard…”

“Princess…”

They approached the withered youngster. They stood nearby but found the inability to engage sympathetically. After all, their Servants lingered from behind. The boys were able to call forth their professor, and Edelgard was unable to. They would never be able to understand her anguish.

“This isn’t fair…” she hoarsely whispered. “Did I do… Is this karma?”

“Karma? Don’t be silly,” Dimitri shook his head. He kneeled to her level and eyed the female. He was not sure what she meant by karma, but it crushed his heart to see his childhood friend defeated. “Your Professor might come. You still have your command seal.”

“That means nothing if they don’t appear.”

“Is this thing rigged?” Claude’s attention diverted to the older adults. He motioned towards the weeping girl. “This isn’t supposed to mess up, right?”

Rhea shook her head. “This is the first that had happened before. All professors were able to be summoned the past nine times.”

“You didn’t have to include that last part, you know.”

“Hey, don’t speak to Lady Rhea like that, young man,” Catherine stepped forward and viciously pointed his finger. “Know your place.”

Claude huffed. He shrugged his shoulders and abandoned insanity. “I apologize. I’m a bit frustrated too for Edelgard—”

‘ BANG! ‘

It was immediately accompanied by a distant crackling of heavy logs tumbling on top of each other. Students and staff alike perked their ears. Claude and Dimitri immediately assisted in Edelgard’s recovery, their Servants swiftly turning to the source. Precautions were taken as their chosen Class weapons were pulled out. Catherine completely unsheathed her Thunderbrand, its electricity crackled and popped without restraint. Seteth shielded both Flayn and Rhea with his arms, his body ready to absorb any potential damages.

Once the dust had settled before them, they were greeted with a spectacular sight. The Goddess Seiros must have shone her lucky stars to the warrior. Stones and obliterated woods formed as a piece of disheveled furniture. Arms resting on the natural armrest, palm pressed on the Sword of Creator’s hilt, and cheek leaning on her elbowed hand, she slowly opened her eyes.

“…”

Could this be…? Edelgard’s jelly legs wobbled as she approached the arrogantly seated woman. The roles were reversed. Edelgard collapsed onto one knee, head raised to the female like a Servant as the Servant exerted regality like a Master. Navy hues dragged its gaze to the fallen. She examined the student with scrutiny.

“Your blood…” The newcomer had gotten up from her seat, kneeled, and instantly greeted the magus with a kiss on the gash. Normally, this would be viewed as romantic, but not a lick of emotion crossed. When she parted, sticky fluid clung to bits of her chin. “I’m bad at healing, but this is the least I could do.”

Perhaps this is part of an innate skill the Servant has. The shallow infliction had dissipated, leaving behind a bloody mess of leftover iron.

Then, she got up, sword still at hand. Edelgard watched in awe from below as the Servant quietly spoke,

“Byleth. Saber class. Tell me… are you my Master?"

#loyalflutist #fodlan holy grail war #chapter 1 #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction #fan fic #series #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #felix x annette #slight:#edeleth #f!byleth x edelgard #hilda x marianne #hildanne #(???)#what are most of these ships name lmao #also won't bother to tag all of the characters for this chapter because it's tooooo much

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vgperson · 5 years

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What Did I Translate in 2018?

#vgperson

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ktarima · 5 years

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New Life: Prologue

Hey yall! I recently got the inspiration to write my first fanfic ever since I started to play the VN mobile game, Choices! Lets just say … I got addicted real quick lol. This fanfic series will be Julian x M!OC (HSS) This is my first time writing..so any feedbacks is appreciated ^.^ Enjoy!

Word count : 1780

Rating: T ( for mention of profanity)

Pairing: Julian x M!OC

All characters and mentions are property of Pixelberry studios

tag list: @choiceslife @griffinsbigdickenergy

On Highway 12, Tuesday, 10:00 PM

I stare lazily outside into the night sky; the view of trees turning into a sea of green as we drive down the highway to our new home in Cedar Cove.

“Are we there yet?” I ask the driver. My dad briefly looks at his phone.

“No. Don’t worry , we’re almost there”

“That’s what you said two hours ago” I groan. He chuckles slightly. My mom chimes in.

“We’ll be there before you know it. Take a nap sweetie.”

“Fineee” I grab my ear buds before leaning back in my seat and rest my head on the window. I shuffle my playlist before falling fast asleep.

“ All of this could have ended differently. I screwed everything up back at Bowie. I lost all connections I built with my IB friends… and most importantly, Devin; my crush” I sniff softly “Maybe moving away… was the best choice” I thought before falling into a deeper sleep.

A brief memory of Richard comes across my mind in my sleep; a memory that I wanted to delete from my memory. He marches towards me, furious.

“You!” He seethed , jabbing a finger in my face “You caused this disaster!” This really wasn’t the time for confronting me.

I scowled. “Excuse me?! You know I was just following your orders!”

“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” We were now face to face “Now because of you, we lost the competition and the funds to support the IB program!”

I was one second away from punching his face. “If you give me a momen--” Before I could finish, he turned away.

“Fuck you, you piece of shit” he growled “Lets go “ He ordered everyone else. After that, rumors started to spread around the school; that I was the worst person in the entire school. Cold glares and isolation was only the tip of the iceberg. I came across Devin one day from the opposite direction. At Least I have one person that could brighten my day, or so I had thought.

“Oh. Hey Devin!” I greeted.... A moment of silence, not a single glance in my direction” Devin?”

He grunted. “ Get away from me.” This wasn’t his normal behavior and I made the mistake of confronting him.

“Wh-- Please don’t tell me you believe the rumors that's been going around these past few weeks.” Devin gritted his teeth and pushed me towards the lockers. “Ow- What the hell was that for?!”

“I’m not gonna say it again. GET.AWAY.FROM.ME. I don’t want to see your face anymore” He threatened.

That was when my world started to break into a million of pieces. Richard’s words echoing through my mind. “THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!”

Gritting my teeth,“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I scream back, waking up. A moment of silence pass as I try to regain my composure. “Oh”. I look up to my parents staring back at me from the front mirror.

Turning back,“Oh honey, another nightmare?” My mother asked, face slightly frowning in concern. “You were thrashing back and forth again.”

“I-... no...maybe” I sigh “It’s nothing really”.

“Are you sure Ben? You’ve been having a lot of these night scares recently ever since we moved.” My father asked,throwing a concerning look in the front mirror.

I shrug. “Just a bit stressed from the past few weeks. Don’t worry.” Life was hectic for all of us due to sudden changes at my parents’ jobs and it showed. “Once we get to our new home, I’ll be all better.” I cleared my throat. “How far are we away from Cedar Cove now?”

“Well..” My dad looks at his phone again “We’re not too far away now. About ten minutes. We’ll probably see the sign for the city along the way.” No sooner than he said, we pass a sign with Cedar Cove in big letters. The sea of green gradually shifted to buildings and highway lightings.

“Ugh ten more minutes until I can sleep in a real bed--”

Suddenly,the car came to a jolting stop to a stop light.

“Woah!” I gasp, thrown out of my seat. “What was that for dad?” pouting as I got back up.

He chuckles. “Haha, sorry about that. Just tired from all the traveling, didn’t see that stop light”. My mom elbows him from across. “Ow! Sorry Sorry” he laughs. “We’ll be in Cedar Cove and to our new home soon..”

I roll my eyes “ ugh just save me from this nightmare already.” I grumble as I look out into the night sky.

We drive down the streets of Cedar Cove, taking in the view of the town. The town looked pleasant enough.

“ Turn left and your destination will be on the right.” The GPS stated.

The car came to a stop as we arrived to our new driveway. “FINALLY! WE’RE FREE!” I shout as we get out of the car. “Hey mẹ* . Can I borrow your arms?” I hold onto her hands and lean back to stretch my spine. Crack, Crack. “Wow … that must have been one long ride” I thought. We stretch for a bit longer before dad came over to hand me the keys to the house.

“Don’t go losing the keys now.”

Rolling my eyes“When have I ever lose the house keys?” I joke. He chuckles.

“Anyways, the moving truck should be here tomorrow . Go help mom bring in the beds and call it a night. Tomorrow is going to be one busy day.”

I nod. “The sooner the better” I laugh as I help my mom bring in the beds into our new house. The house didn’t look half too bad, in my opinion. It was smaller than our old home, but it had that familiar quaint feeling. At last, I chose my room and dropped my bed in a corner. I took out my phone and checked the time. Yikes, 11 P.M. I flop onto my bed.

I flop onto my bed.“Good night mẹ”

“Good night darling, rest up. We have a lot of stuff to do tomorrow” I groan a reply before falling asleep.

Beep. Beep.Beep. I half open one of my eyes to look at my phone.8:45 AM. “Ughhh, too early for this” I roll across my bed. “5 more min--” I mumble before the door to my room suddenly opens.

“GOOD MORNING SQUIRT!” My dad beams. I really wasn’t in the mood for this. I squinted.

“Good.. morning to you to dad” I mumble as I lazily wrap myself in my blanket.

“Time to rise and shine! We have a lot of stuff to do.”

I don’t know how he’s so active in the morning. “Yeah.. i’ll,rise and shine in like 5 min--” I start before he yanks the blanket away from me.

“AHH! Fine i’m up.” I complain.

He laughs “Go get some breakfast and i’ll see you in a bit”. I yawn before getting out of bed to do the usual morning routine. Afterwards, I plop down on one of the makeshift chairs in the kitchen with a bowl of cereal.

“So what’s the plan for today?” I ask before eating a spoonful of cereal.

“Well” My mom takes a sip of her coffee”The moving company is arriving this afternoon. Then we have to head to the local dealership to get you a car and we’re going to shop around for furniture.” She hands dad a cup of coffee.

Finishing the last bite of my cereal and gulping the milk down. “I see and by we, you mean you and dad?” She playfully slaps my shoulder.

“ Yes dear” rolling her eyes

”We’ll handle the moving stuff, in the meantime you’ll drive around town and visit your new high school” My dad states.

I felt a knot form in my stomach. “Fantastic. What’s the address to the school?” I lend my phone to my dad as he types the address in. “Oliver M. Berry High. Not too far away from here.”

My mom chimes in “ We contacted the principal before hand, and she’ll get you settled.” Both of them finishing their cup of coffee. “Ready to go?”

“Yep. Give me a min to change into some clothes and i’ll see y’all at the car.” I got up and walked back to my room.

Berry High, eh? Let’s hope it’s better than my previous school I thought before changing out of my house clothes. We drove to the local dealership to rent a car for me. I’m not entirely picky when it comes to cars, as long as it gets me from point A to B. We drive up to the entrance and a employee comes to greet us.

“Good morning there! Welcome to the Cedar Used Car shop. How may I help you today?”

“We’re here to buy a car for my son. We just moved into town today.” My dad says.

“Oh! Welcome to Cedar Cove. Please come this way to view our selection”

We spent two hours or so testing out the multitude of cars available. We decided on a 2005 Honda Accord. My parents signed the papers and soon I find myself inside my car.

“Drive safe son” He hands me the keys to the car. “We’ll take care of the rest”

“I will.” I look at the time on my phone, 11:30 AM. “ Oh it’s almost time for me to go. I’ll be back later tonight.” My parents nod. “Have fun shopping” I joke before driving away.

“ Your destination is on the right” my GPS stated.

I glance over to my right and came across my first sight of Oliver M.Berry High school. I furrow one of my eyebrows in surprise.

“Huh… this school looks a bit smaller than Bowie” I thought in disappointment. I searched around for a guest parking spot to park my car. “Well, this is my new car now. Better than nothing I guess”. I parked my car and got out “ Well here goes nothing. “ I took my first steps on Berry High’s ground. A small grin comes across my face.

“Wow this place looks a bit better than I thought it was” I thought as I observe the environment. I opened the front doors of Berry High and a woman in a yellow blouse came to me.

“Good afternoon , young man! You must be Ben Burton, our new student.” She offers a handshake, smiling.

“Uh… Yes I am.” I shook her hand “and you must be?”

“ I am Principal Hughs and I welcome you to your new home.”

TBC

*mẹ= mom in Vietnamese

#Choices HighSchoolStory Julian x M!OC #my first fanfic

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pixzie-writes · 5 years

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The Fallen - Prologue

Title: The Fallen - Prologue

Summary: I was just minding my own business, trying to complete my projects when something caught my attention. Apparently someone has details concerning my parents? I went out to investigate when my night turned into quite a hell fest. Maybe it is one. By the way, who is this guy? Why is he wearing all black?

Relationship: V (Devil May Cry) / F!Reader

Warning: Explicit language

Word Count: 1874

A/N: There’s not a lot of V fan fiction works out here so I thought I’d try my hand at writing a few. Forgive me, but when I saw DMC5 trailers, I kinda fell in love with V’s character. So, here it is! I welcome every feedback so I can continue to improve my writing language!

Prologue | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2

I couldn’t sleep a wink. No matter how hard I try, I just couldn’t. The rain pattering against the window usually helps me trigger the melatonin in my brain. I had the aromatherapy on with the lavender essential oil. I’ve tried everything from the melatonin pills to tiring myself out physically. Well, there are a few other things I could have tried, but I rather use it as a last resort. One of the many nights of suffering from insomnia, I wouldn’t want to wish it on my worse enemies… yet.

I turned to look at my clock, reading at 3:48 AM. Growing frustrated, I finally gave up and threw open my covers, shivering a little from the sudden movement from the blankets. Grabbing the black leggings off my chair, I quickly slipped it on and slipped on my socks. I shuffled around the room in the dark until I finally turned on the lamps that sat at my desk, causing me to strain my eyes until I finally adjusted to it. Rubbing my eyes and opening the laptop, I yawned as I waited for the laptop to turn on. If I couldn’t sleep, might as well continue working on my projects. Maybe I should get coffee started first. As I log in, waiting for a few more minutes for the laptop to finish loading up I decided to go ahead and make my coffee, going through the narrow hallway of my old apartment, into the living room and then finally to the kitchen, which was connected to the living room.

It’s small enough, perfect size to me, apartment that is affordable enough for me considering that my budget. The paint off the wall is being chipped and torn off a bit, but I didn’t care enough to complain about it to try to get it repainted by the landlord. A few things could use a bit of a fixing such as the half-bathroom down the hall near the kitchen could have its toilet fixed. I don’t need two working toilets, though. As long as I have a roof over my head, working shower, working toilet, clothes, and food in my belly, I’m perfectly satisfied. Student loans are quite a lot to handle and I need the extra money I could earn to get it paid off. I’ll probably never be able to pay it off, considering the economic situation everyone is having. The rich being too greedy with their money isn’t a good outlook to the outsiders.

I grabbed the coffee filter out of the cabinet, fished one out of the bag and turned to the pantry closet to grab my favorite brand of coffee. Poured enough for 8 cups of coffee into the filter. It is going to be a long night and I need all the caffeine I could get. Maybe I’ll get a crash from all that coffee and I’ll finally savor any sleep I could get even if I pass out in the middle of class. I grab the pot when I finished putting the filter inside, pouring the water inside to finish getting the pot ready to brew. I turned on the power and sat on the counter, waiting patiently as I stare at the window, watching the rain patter against it.

I heard my laptop made a notification noise, remembering that I made my e-mail program to open automatically when I start it up. Curious, I decided to check it out while the coffee pot finishes up. I pull up my chair, opening up the e-mail as I sat down. The e-mail read:

Sender: Anonymous

Subject: URGENT

Please meet me at the park near you. It concerns your parents.

I read it slowly again, trying to understand the message, and hovered my cursor over the sender to see if they used a legit e-mail or a false one. It was a bunch of jumbled letters as if someone smashed the keyboard and the service they are using to send it doesn’t seem to exist. I wasn’t sure if this is a legit e-mail or an attempt to kidnap me. As far to my knowledge, my real parents passed away from a deadly accident and I got adopted later on. I didn’t remember much of my real one, as I was just a toddler when all that happened. Cliché of a story, I know. Now this person claims to have knowledge of my parents? When I got old enough to want to know more of my parents, there were very little details of them and no extended family exists from either side. It’s almost as if no one wants me to find out the truth of my real parents, but I decided to drop it before it gave me even more of a headache. Still, I want to know more of my parents even if it just info on the whereabouts of my extended family. It couldn’t hurt to check it out. But before I decide to get dressed, I should have my cup of coffee first.

I walk out to the park in my hoodie and jeans, completed with some combat boots. Simple yet comfortable outfit does the job for me. I’m not too worried about my appearance anyways. I had my umbrella out, plus the hoodie covering my head. No one is out and about in the park. After all, it is late in the middle of the night and it’s rain out. I decided to walk towards the playground, trying to keep an eye out on anything or anyone suspicious or out of the ordinary. It’s starting to get cold, which thankfully I had my hoodie on for. A dark figure starts to step out of the shadow, startling me. I have my biggest key ready in between my knuckles in case I need to defend myself. A man with black hair that reaches his shoulders, stares back at me. He is wearing a long black coat and what seems to be a vest underneath that. Black pants with black sandals. Everything black. His pale skin is covered in tattoos as well.

Breaking the silence, I attempted to confront him about the e-mail that I received earlier; “Uh you’re the one that sent me that e-mail, right?” I asked, stammering over my words a little, obviously nervous. The man simply nodded, still not saying a word. I look around the surrounding area, seeing if there might be anyone or anything else hiding in the shadows like he was. Attempting to get a word out of him, I try to a stern voice, “Why the secrecy? Were you watching me?”

“Not you. Them.” He finally answers, motioning his head towards something behind me. Gulping, I slowly turn around, gripping my keys hard that it started to hurt. A bunch of strange creatures seemed to have materialized behind me when I wasn’t looking. I could feel my heart start to pound inside me, wanting to scream but nothing would come out. What were they and why are they here? Were they hunting something? Someone? Were they hunting me? One of them starts to jump towards me. I try to shield myself with my arms, shutting my eyes tightly, begging to myself to wake up. Maybe I did fall asleep and I just don’t think this is a dream. Next thing I heard, I heard a roar from sounded like a panther or something. I opened my eyes, almost afraid to open them up. I could see a panther-like creature attacking the creatures with… blades? I walked backwards, trying to get away from the proximity of the battle. I turned and tried to run for my apartment when I got cut off by another one of those creatures. A griffon started to attack it before it could swipe its claws at me. I crouch down, burying my head into my knees, basically trying to make myself as small as possible.

A few more roars and screeches were heard, bodies being dropped, and what was actually minutes felt like hours went by. Noises stopped and now all I am hearing are footsteps, approaching me slowly. The footsteps stopped and I slowly start to look around, seeing there’s nothing. Not a single body dead on the ground. I start to get confused, murmuring to myself, “Wh-what?” I stand up slowly; turn around to see the same strange man looking at me with his cane out this time. I slowly back up until I’m against a tree and held out my keys, trying to use it as a weapon to stab him with, “Stay back!” He scoffed and shrugged, “ I just got rid of all those Nobodies for you and you think I’M the threat?”

“I-I don’t know. This is… What? Nobodies? For all I know, it could be that you summoned them.”

“That’s fair. But it doesn’t also make sense for me to try to get rid of them just to save you. They want you for something. Or maybe someone really wants you dead.”

“Who would want me dead? What about my parents?”

“Hmm, I don’t know and I think your real parents are connected to whatever the shit is going on with you.”

He starts to walk away; his creatures start to follow behind him. I wanted to know more. He couldn’t just tell me all this and expect me to drop it. I put away my keys, suddenly calling out after him, “Wait!” He pauses, his head start to look over his shoulders, waiting for me to speak. Trying to find the words, I finally decided to settle for thanking him, “Thank you for saving my life. I… I don’t know who my real parents are and there’s very little of details of them and my extended family. You’re the first to probably know any real details of them.” He waited patiently, not saying anything back. He’s quite the silent type. I continued, “Let me come with you.”

“No,” he said immediately, start to walk away again. Determined, I walk up quickly to catch up to him and grabbed his shoulders to try to make him face me. He stared at me, his eyebrows furrowing, as he does not like to be touched or grabbed like that it seems.

“I’m coming with you whether you like it or not. You say they’re after me. They’re going to keep coming after me unless I’m safe with you.”

He stayed silent for a few minutes, contemplating something, thinking deeply to himself. He sighed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, and finally looked at me. “Fine,” he said, sighing in the defeat. I smile, start to turn towards my apartment when he continued, “You don’t have time to pack a bag. We need to go now.”

“Wait where are we going.”

“Someone who could help us.”

I followed behind him for quite a while, my feet growing tired. My eyes start to strain themselves a bit when we finally came to a stop. I looked up to him, his eyes glued on to something. I followed the direction of what he was staring at, coming down to a small building with a bright neon sign. Devil May Cry.

#v #devil may cry #dmc #dmc5 #devil may cry 5 #v (devil may cry)#v (dmc)#v x reader #v (devil may cry) x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic series

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faeriexqueen · 5 years

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☆Writer Asks☆

Tagged by @kitty-bandit and @silentium-nightshade (thank you! <3)

1. Explain your AO3 handle. TheFairieQueen comes from a nickname I got back in my freshman year of college. I used to do more studio art growing up, and always did butterflies and fairies (it got somewhat spurned on even more, because my grandmother always talked to me about fairies growing up). And it’s no secret I like fairy tales - I’ve always been into them, and I just sort of got a reputation in college for liking these things early on? Between that and the way I dressed, one of my friends thought I was just fairie-like, and she always called me the fairie queen. So it came from there. XD (In addition to that, when I talk to my grandmother even today, she refers to my apartment as my “fairy hollow.”) 2. Favorite fanfiction trope? AAAAAA. This is hard? I like so many? XD Definite slow burn buildup and that pining for each other - I’m weak for that, as well as disastrous first meetings when it comes to romance. (In addition to that, any trope that forced two romantic interests together - like dangerous scenarios, sharing a bed, etc.). 3. Favorite place to write? Easily at home. It’s just more comfortable to be in my own space, and I usually end up focusing best if I’m cozy in bed or curled up on the couch, always with a cup of tea and dim lighting. ;3 4. Favorite ships in your current fandom? Right now, D.Gray-Man is my main one (I don’t know if I’ll ever leave?), and hands down, Yulma is my OTP. I think anyone who follows me or talks to me is pretty aware of that. XD I also have a rare pair I’m super into, which is Tyki x Alma, though @kitty-bandit got me very hard into Lavi x Link as well (and now....Lavi x Alma is on my mind? psjkfjsflkjsd) But! I also really love Lucky, LenaLavi, and Laven. And Anita x Mahoja. <3 5. What are your steps to get into the Writing Mood™? Usually getting comfortable is the main priority, since that helps with focus. I always have a cup of tea, keep the lighting dim, and will usually be under a layer of blankets. Sometimes, I’ll listen to instrumental music for inspiration and to set the mood for a scene I’m writing as well. 6. What program/app do you use to write? Microsoft Word. 7. List your zodiac sign, favorite ice cream flavor, Hogwarts House, and your opinion on pineapple pizza. Taurus/WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO CHOOSE? Honestly it switches, but I love mint chocolate chip/Ravenclaw/Nonononono PLEASE NO PINEAPPLE ON MY PIZZA. 8. Link us a fanfic that made you cry. It’s hard for me to full on cry, but A Matter of Time by @kitty-bandit just....fuck. Fuck. I don’t even have words for the level of pain this put my heart through. It just...UGH IT JUST FUCKING HURT, OKAY? ;__; 9. Link us a fanfic that made you laugh. I’m going to have to say A Rough Patch by @errantknightess - like that was so damn amusing I nearly lost my shit on my bus commute home. XD 10. Link us a fanfic that left you in complete awe at the writer’s ability. This is hard considering damn near everyone I know is so talented, but @izadreamer’s Dreaming of Flowers will always be up there. Like holy shit, everything Iza writes is amazing, but that fic is just a whole new level of insane talent (also Labyrinths of the Heart for any Tangled fans - I’m so behind in this fic, but fuck, it’s amazing too). 11. List your kinks. Oh god, SO. Time to out myself. A/B/O Dynamics; Dom/Sub dynamics; Anything involving lingerie or tightlacing; Shower sex; Lightheadedness; Teasing; Some BDSM (consensual shit tho); Consensual Voyeurism (if in an established relationship); Mpeg (I lowkey hate myself for admitting this); Sucking/Biting. 12. How do you come up with your ideas? Honestly, they just...come? Usually with new AUs and story ideas I don’t exactly look for them actively; they more or less hit me. Once I have a base idea or line of inspiration, I usually will just follow it by jotting down notes, researching anything that ties into said idea, and just..really letting my mind run. Sometimes you just almost can’t even overthink it, or you might accidentally constrict yourself, you know? 13. How do you implement said ideas into a cohesive narrative? Know the ending. I swearing, knowing the ending and figuring out the story’s end point is huge. It really helps in understanding what you ultimately want to accomplish with your stories, and what you want your characters to go through development-wise. 14. What are your working on right now? Share a little snippet or a description. Right now, I just finished up the remaining chapters of Encompassed in Glass for NanoWrimo, but am now moving on to a Nutcracker AU (title TBD). The main ship with be Yulma (surprise there I’m sure XD), but it’s something I would like to start posting sometime December. As of now, the prologue is written, and I’ve started chapter one. (Draft excerpt from chapter one below!)

A snowball had hit her promptly on the shoulder, exploding into a mass of powdery snowflakes. The impact had been surprisingly hard, causing Emilia to trip into a pile of freshly-shoveled snow, and for a moment she struggled to get back up. Alma winced, when he saw how hard he had actually hit Emilia with the snowball. “Oops, that was harder than I thought…” He murmured, hoping Emilia wouldn’t come for him next. He turned to Timothy, and whispered. “Go, go, go!” Timothy, who was snickering loudly at Emilia’s plight, quickly got up and dashed out of the alley, laughing full force when Emilia caught sight of him, glaring threateningly. Then she turned, and her mouth dropped when she caught sight of Alma peeking out from the alley way. “You were helping him!?” She exclaimed. “Alma, you traitor-!” Alma smiled sheepishly, before giving a small wave. “Sorry, got to go!” He said, before running back down the alley. While he usually never would have left someone who had fallen down, he knew it was for the best; friends or not, Emilia was sure to let him have it once she got a hold of him, and Alma was determined to escape that fate for as long as possible.

Tagging: @izaswritings @candy-crackpot @a-q-d @guiltyinnocencedgm @titty-now-titty-later @tykipomme @wonderrie @errantknightess (and anyone else who would like to do this!)

#asks #writing asks #thanks for the tag!!#writing meme

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areseiseart · 4 years

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Ancient Oracles Dev Update 06-24-2020

Hey guys! Hope everyone is doing well. I am back on the job hunt right now so my time will be split between that and working on the game.

I jumped really quickly into a lot of this and as this is my first project I’m still learning and figuring out how each new thing works.

That being said! I have good news.

Writing:

I went back through the prologue script and better refined certain points. Chapter 1 of the prologue is pretty much finished. I really rushed it the first time and was ready to be like ‘ yes this is great!’ but i’m now going back through and making needed edits. (such as the first meetings for different characters and such.

I will be redoing the rough potato outline of the boys routes once the prologue is finished being edited. Then I’ll do a potato draft of Aspen’s route but this will likely be after I finish coding and such.

Art:

I learned the hard way that I needed to redo some sprites in order to change outfits and such. At the moment everyone’s sprite except Aspen’s is fixed in that regard! I’ll be editing that on and off between other things.

I have patron rewards almost completed again for this month and have been working on backgrounds for the first chapter. I am still new to backgrounds so this is wildly inconsistent with my usual workflow. for the moment some really rough backgrounds are being placed as placeholders into the game.

Programming/Coding/etc

Coding was always going to be my biggest hurdle to overcome. I know how to write...I know how to draw. I am however dyslexic and have Dyscalculia (basically dyslexia with numbers) This makes it much harder for me to focus on the coding aspects of AO.

Thanks to some suggestions from fellow dev’s and help from them as well I’ve managed to at least fix the basics of the code.

I also switched Atom to a Solarize dark theme-which is much easier on my eyes. Which has improved my productivity more than I can even say.

I have figured out how to identify and implement different characters but right now the only fully placed character is the MC/Carmen. She’s currently talking to herself-I still need to tweak her expression shifts and placement.

I am making a decision on whether or not to design the MC’S mum who appears within the first scene with her. She does not play a large role in the story so I don’t want to fully render a sprite that will only show up rarely if at all.

I also mocked up a quick plan for the title screen of the game which you can see here! I’ll be refining and then implimenting it hopefully by the end of the week. Any bugs will hopefully be handled after!

That’s all I’ve got for you guys today! I hope to start doing weekly updates now that I’ve settled more into my schedule. (if not every week it will be every two!)

cheers!

Ares

#upcoming game #english visual novel #otome #dev update #gamedev #dev log

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fluidityandgiggles · 6 years

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Sleep Is For The Weak - Chapter 7

Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 5, Last Chapter

Writing Masterlist - for previous chapters not otherwise linked, Read on AO3

Notes (I guess): I decided to post this earlier than usual, both in honor of fanfic writer appreciation day and because I finished writing this one yesterday, and I was going to schedule it, and just not worry about anything... and then there was a power shortage and as I’m was writing this, on Tuesday, I had to rely on my phone to provide me with wifi. God bless... (Well, I have wifi now, don’t I?)

I just thought that after all the angst of the last two chapters you’d appreciate a bit of sweetness, and where this chapter started almost as harshly as the last two, it’s just. So sweet. And fluffy. And I feel so happy that I managed to do such a thing. Well... that and prove to the world that I’m a massive nerd. (If you really want to know, some of Emile’s rants in this chapters are based on actual answers I gave in my finals. And those of you who know me well enough know that I studied theatre in high school...)

Thanks and credits go to @broadwaytheanimatedseries for the initial idea (and for being there to listen and talk about ideas with when we hang out, which happens a lot more lately actually), to @whatwashernameagain the absolute angel for Keep Him Safe and for being incredibly awesome (and for the German translation of one of my favorite quotes ever), to @anony-phangirl and @asleepybisexual for their usual contributions that shall never go un-thank-ed and uncredited, and a special one to @winglessnymph who is the person and inspiration behind a good chunk of Emile’s background and who, after showing them a screenshot of this chapter, just said “my old high school can burn, but yes at least Emile survived”.

Tag list (sort of): @bunny222, @ab-artist, @secretlyanxiouspersona, @your-username-is-unavailable, @virgilcrofters, @why-things-go-boom, @ilovemygaydad, @violetblossem

Trigger warning: period appropriate transphobia (the early 00s were not exactly trans-friendly). This chapter in particular also has mentions of alcohol and drug use.

—————

"But I want you to come!"

"Leah, sweetie, I can't come. I'm going to Emile's. But I'll see you sooner than you think, okay?"

"Okay… but it's not going to be fun. Rachel is two and she's boring and I don't like Mom."

Leah called every day after school. Remy could've been in a class, or at a group meeting, or taking a shower, and she would call every day after school. It was somewhat adorable.

But now was no time to deal with adorable.

"Emile, my darling, my precious, my sweet sweet love," Remy declared at the beginning of their morning sols 20 class last Monday, "can I come over for thanksgiving?"

"Didn't you say you have to see your mom?" Emile whispered over his cup of tea, struggling to get comfortable. The weather got extremely cold lately, and at thirty-six degrees at eight in the morning, not even the four layers and giant thermos full of tea could keep Emile warm enough to survive morning classes.

India literally asked him if he's not supposed to be used to such temperatures, which earned her a lecture on hypersensitivity and illness caused by stress.

"But it's Linda! Emile, babe, sweetheart, darling, dollface—"

"Don't call me bubbeleh and I'll consider it."

"It'll be worth it. I promise—"

"I need to ask my mom, and my sister is coming to pick me up because I'm kinda scared of flights, and Minnesota is kind of far away."

"Alright. I don't mind."

He really hoped Nathalie would agree.

"I don't want to be here alone," Leah half-whined.

"I know, babe, but it won't be long. Trust me."

He let her talk about school for a good while more, at least until he could hear Linda screaming at her to stop holding the line. It was horrifying. He didn't remember her doing it much.

Then again, she was barely home anyway.

The call disconnected rather quickly, right on time for his appointment at the psych clinic. The grad student who claimed Remy as his personal project was supervised today by the head of the department, as part of his research, which meant Remy had to be on his best behavior.

It also meant he'd get misgendered. Which was a thing said student, whose thesis was on gender dysphoria and gender identity (same subject as his big project for AP psychology back at Bronx Science, really), made sure to not do.

This was going to be fun.

——

"You went to the Bronx High School of Science, right?"

"Yeah? Gurl, why you asking me? I told you that already."

"A 4.0 GPA, went to a gifted program in Columbia—"

"Why are you asking me questions you already know the answer to?"

"Dr. Freeman wanted to hear those for himself," Remy heard the guy - Michael, his name is Michael, stop calling him "the guy" - mutter to himself as he typed away on his laptop.

"What makes you think that you're a boy, Miss Harris?" The doctor asked, pushing his glasses up. What a prick…

"Well, considering how I was quite literally diagnosed with gender identity disorder by a licensed psychiatrist, I don't think I am. I know I am."

"And yet, you've enrolled into Harvard under the name Rebecca. Is there any explanation as to why?" Freeman looked directly at Remy. "You're an intelligent young person, and enrolling under your preferred—"

"I didn't know I could do it, and now I have, like, no idea how to change it in administration."

"Biologically speaking, Mr. Harris, the concept of sex is very non-binary." The older man's gravelly voice seemed to chill even Michael, still taking notes. Suddenly he didn't seem so evil.

"First of all," Dr. Freeman said, "in sexual species, you can have female be XX and males just be X. For example, in insects. Female birds are ZW and males are ZZ, for reptiles it's temperature differences that female or male make. In some flatworms it's a penis fencing competition. Some fish like clownfish and parrotfish can have females become males because there are no males left, and the New Mexico whiptail lizards are a female-only species who reproduce asexually. Some species, like cuttlefish, have males act like females in order to get close to the females. And fungi have thousands of sexes. And that's not even getting close to humanity."

The doctor cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee. "You can be male because you were born female but have a 5 alpha-reductase deficiency, and so you develop a penis in puberty. You can be female because you were born with XY chromosomes but you're insensitive to androgens, or because your Y is missing the SRY gene, both of which would result in developing a female figure. You can be male because you were born with two XX chromosomes but one of them does have the SRY gene. You can be male by having two X chromosomes and one Y, or a female by having only one X chromosome. And you can be male or female by being born in the wrong body for your brain.

"As I said, there is no such thing as two biological sexes only. So I'll ask you this again. Why would you enroll as a female named Rebecca if you know that you are neither?"

Remy had no idea how to respond. The professor looked at him, straight at him, and Michael kept typing away…

"...I told you, I had no idea I could do that."

"I'll write you a note to give to Vivian in administration. She'll take care of everything, you just need to provide her with a name."

"It's Remy—"

"I hope you understand that this isn't legal, it's only official. I don't have a doctorate in psychology just to explain what's the difference between the two to my students."

Remy nodded nervously, swallowing air. "Yes sir."

——

"Your suite is so much more comfortable than mine," Emile wiggled on the couch, petting his bunny, as Remy was making him a cup of tea. "You can… clearly see Leah was here."

"The marks on the wall? Yeah… she brought her scooter with her and wouldn't stop running into the wall with it."

Emile giggled - how much cuter could this boy get? - and scratched Mycroft's head a bit. "I asked my mom and, yeah, my grandparents and my uncle and his family are coming over, so it wouldn't be that much of an issue if you came over, but…"

"But?"

"We're having thanksgiving at my grandparents' on my dad's side. So it might be a bit of an issue. I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. It's okay, we didn't plan for this or whatever. I'll watch over Leah and you take care around your family, okay?"

"Okay. Have fun with her. She'll really need it."

"I know and I'm willing to suffer for that."

The kettle started whistling. Remy filled the mug with the boiling water and took it to Emile.

Just yesterday Emile screamed "I waited five minutes and the weather didn't change, get your shit together, Boston" at the sky when it started to snow. It wasn't even that much, Remy had seen bigger storms and he was sure that Emile did too - he was from Minnesota, after all - but it was still somewhat funny. After asking, Emile explained that in Minnesota, and basically all around the Midwest, "if you don't like the weather, just wait five minutes".

Remy didn't think he meant it literally. He probably didn't.

"How's India doing?"

"Midterms."

"Cool."

Emile was muttering something to himself in a language Remy didn't understand. He let Mycroft go and the bunny just sat there, on the couch, looking happy enough.

"Hey Remy, what's the Hebrew word for thanksgiving?"

"...I'm a Christian from New Jersey. Why are you asking me?"

"I don't… I don't know. My parents are expecting me to call my cousins before thanksgiving and they don't know English or Dutch yet… not that I know that much Dutch either, but… wait, you're from New Jersey? I thought you're from Manhattan."

"Only since I was five."

"Oh. Cool."

Remy moves the bunny and sat down next to Emile, who leaned against his side and put his head on his shoulder. His hair was incredibly soft, Remy was never quite able to stop running his fingers through it, and the whole situation just… made Remy feel like everything was going to be okay. Just… don't move from this spot, where the his adorable, tiny friend was cuddling up to him and muttering to himself in a different language, and everything will be alright.

His hair smelled like jasmine and seawater. And Remy was torn between admitting to himself just how much he liked it, and wondering if Chris would be jealous.

"You went on a date, right?" Emile raised his head, his hair tickling Remy. "I just…"

"Yeah, I did." And it was a bit better than Halloween. Chris was… way more interesting when not in parties, apparently. For one, he did not talk about his crush on Harrison Ford, and he did talk quite a bit but at least it was about law school and not Indiana Jones. It was… it was great.

"Huh… that's nice." And then, "a friend once asked me on a date. I had to say no."

"Why? Was something so wrong that—"

"No… I like that guy, but… he's the same guy who always paid me to bake weed brownies for him and his friends, and that's not very appropriate, right?"

He had to do a double take. "Weed brownies?!"

"Yeah… my school was the druggie school, you know?"

"No… I didn't know."

"Yeah… it's not like my parents couldn't afford to send me where my sister went, but they were worried about how the stress would affect me so I went to a public school. And… at least I only ever sneaked vodka in water bottles and baked weed brownies, I never, like… held someone's hair out of their face in the bathroom or had to keep someone from killing themselves, which now that I say it out loud just sounds so bad and I totally would've done it if I had to but—"

"Emile, babe, you're making me worry. Like, really."

"Sorry… I never ate weed brownies, though. I'm sensitive to weed."

This… this was the thing that baffled Remy about Emile. This… tiny, pure, angelic thing, with the soft hair that always smelled like jasmine and seawater and the bright, sparkling eyes. His soft little friend whose sunny disposition never faltered, not even in the darkest of times, and whose dedication and determination shone through everything he did.

Emile Picani, the sweetest human Remy ever met, was used to sneaking vodka into school and baking weed brownies.

Fuck.

"How do you even find out that you're sensitive to weed if you don't, like, smoke weed or whatever?"

"You have to decarboxylate the weed to activate it, which basically means heating it up, and the smell gives me migraines, so… that's how I found out."

Yeah, because that's so much better.

"But I mean, good riddance. Can we watch Mulan? I want to do something…"

"Aren't you reading that Sartre thing?"

"No Exit? I already finished it." Emile sipped on his tea. "I don't… get it? I can see why Estelle and Garcin will never achieve an epiphany, but Ines came in already aware that she's amoral… can't she just… leave Hell?"

Gilliam gave the class an optional assignment, to read and analyze No Exit by Jean-Paul Sartre. It wasn't even going to go into their final grade, but he did say that it might be very important to the next semester when they study Freud ("and how he almost ruined the entire field of psychology, more or less"), so Remy chose to leave it for Christmas break. Or maybe not even read it.

"It's something like sixty pages, it's shorter than Hedda Gabler or The Cherry Orchard… it's an easy—"

"Question one, what the fuck is Hedda Gabler, and question two, what cherry orchard?"

Emile's eyes lit up and he almost jumped in his seat, spilling some of his tea on his lap and causing Mycroft to hop a bit farther. "Did you ever do theatre?"

And off on a rant he went, explaining every little nuance and allegory in both the plays ("so like, back in Ibsen's time, realistic theatre was meant to portray real life and keep the three unities, so Hedda shooting herself off-stage is meant to shock the audience as well as preserve the unity of place, which is pretty much…", "you know, the reason it's called Hedda Gabler despite Hedda being married to Jorgen Tesman is to show that Hedda sees herself as the daughter of General Gabler first and the wife of Jorgen Tesman second", "the cherry orchard is never really in scene ever, so it's kind of like a fantasy, or trying to hold onto a thing that isn't there anymore, like the Russian aristocrat's status, so when middle-class Lopakhin buys the orchard and orders to start cutting it before the others even left is like an even bigger sign that the aristocracy has fallen and there is no place left for it in the modern Russian society, in the face of the upcoming bourgeoisie and their budding materialism").

It was worse than Leah talking about betta fish. Well… no it wasn't, but he couldn't bring himself to shut Emile up… he was too cute to be told to shut up.

"So I just… I don't get it. Ines should be able to pick herself up and walk out the door, so why isn't she doing it?"

Emile was out of tea by the time Remy caught him looking at him with questioning eyes and realized he'd completely zoned out.

"Maybe… societal pressure?"

"Maybe… but it still makes no sense. She's in one room with two incredibly selfish people… can I boil some more water?" Remy nodded and Emile practically jumped out of his lap. The cold immediately hit Remy with a wave of disappointment. He wanted to hold Emile just a bit longer...

"Then again," Emile kept ranting, "this is the play that coined the term ‘Hell is other people'. L'enfer, c'est les autres. De hel zijn de anderen. Hagehenom hu hazulat."

"How many languages was that…?"

"Four." Remy choked. "I don't speak Dutch or Hebrew very well, I told you that. I only know the basics because of my family. But I do know this saying in five languages. I think... My oma and opa really like saying it. But I don't remember how to say it in German."

This boy was impossible.

"No, no, I do remember it. Die Hölle, das sind die anderen."

And Remy absolutely loved him. (A bushel and a peck.)

"And I only know how to say it in German because my neighbors are German. So like… I really only speak two languages."

"That's still way more than me, babe."

"Well, enough about me! I want to hear more about your date! How awesome was it?"

Oh, it was great. Chris didn't talk only about himself, he was actually interested in listening to Remy talk about his interests, they had a lovely dinner and went to see a slightly better than okay movie (he was not going to tell Emile that The Ring gave him nightmares for three days after watching it though), and he kissed him when they got back to Harvard. Nothing big, everything was nice, and they were going on a date again in early December. Nothing could be better.

Except the voice in his head, calling him a liar.

"That sounds very nice," Emile muttered as he plopped back down next to Remy and put his cup of tea on the table. "I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun. The Two Towers and Chicago are supposed to come out in December. And I promised my sister I'll go to see both of them with her."

A comfortable silence settled in. Remy tried to focus on anything but how nice it was to cuddle Emile, especially today that all his suitemates had other obligations. It was almost time to leave for thanksgiving - those who left for thanksgiving anyway - and… it meant he wouldn't see Emile for a week.

He didn't think he was a fan of the idea.

"Can we please watch Mulan? I haven't seen it in forever!"

Remy had to oblige.

——

"Hello?" The tiny voice that came through the phone made Remy so happy, and he had no idea why. "Who's that?"

"Leah, aren't you supposed to be doing your homework?"

"Remy oh oh oh Remy I have so many things to tell you so yesterday I went to the park and I found a shiny rock and—"

"Leah, I called to tell you and Linda that I'm coming over for thanksgiving." The high-pitched scream almost ruptured his eardrum. "But you have to be on your best behavior, okay? I know it's a very hard thing to do, babe, but it's for Linda."

"Okay! I can behave very good!"

"I know you can, sweets. I just need you to promise me that you will."

"I promise that I will! Pinky promise! When you get here it'll be a pinky promise, okay?"

All that was left was to hope that thanksgiving won't be such a disaster.

If it was, though, Remy would start considering smuggling Leah with him to Cambridge.

#kylo cant write #sanders sides #remy/sleep #emile picani #keep him safe #sleep is for the weak #the remy centric prequel #tw: period appropriate transphobia #tw: mentions of drug use #tw: mentions of alcohol

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sosthemortalcoil · 6 years

Note

If it becomes too overwhelming, would you consider cutting down the amount of weapons? It might be an unpopular decisions, but it’s probably a coding hell!

Thank you for your question anon, and your suggestion!

However, almost certainly not.

For one, the weapons have already been written into the prologue, and each one corresponds to a character statistic. While I could spend time moving stats and traits around again, I don’t think this is an efficient used of time.

I am well familiar with making cut lists. I have worked as a producer on a game before (albeit an indie game, but similar principles apply regardless of size). Since this game is still in the relatively early stages of production (in terms of playable content vs probable length of final product) it would make more sense to cut content that hasn’t been written rather than remove content that is Uploaded, Played, and Displayed (as well as semi edited).

Not to mention, the weapons don’t feature a very prominent role in part one. They will pop up in a few other places, but the majority of the time we’re running around in our shell–trying not to get noticed. As such, you aren’t supposed to be manifesting your Angel Blade.

We’ll see more of them in book two, but again, these aren’t difficult to code. It’s a little time consuming to write all the variables, but the code itself isn’t complicated.

Really. Writing a program for simulated annealing, or trying to make sure wumpus behaves right–those are both far more complicated than what is essentially a bunch of nested ifs. Coding hell? Nah. Maybe gets a little goofed because I tend to write when I’m tired. Writing annoyance? At times, but generally more intriguing than bothersome.

Again, this is ultimately a project I want to be happy with. I don’t have a studio, or a producer, or a board to answer to. I do have the fans, and again, I understand the desire for a finished game sooner rather than later. But since I’m not really working within a formal team, and this is a passion project, I’m going to keep doing it the way I am (which means ignoring a lot of what I know about proper game development procedure XD )

#author ask #author answer #potential cuts

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toolatetofall · 4 years

Text

Before

Okay, I am so fucking excited. I’ve finished the first draft of part 1 of 6 of my mass effect fanfic. Going long-term, it’s going to be a ShepShep fic, but I think I’m going to characterize their relationship more as queerplatonic than sexual. It’s a 2 Shep AU (obviously) where male Shep is the “main Shepard”, but it’s told from femshep’s POV.

Anyway! It’s in second POV for femshep, and the events in the prologue are prior to joining the Normandy. She has the Earthborn/Sole Survivor background. This is a rough draft, so I haven’t posted it on AO3. To that end, I’d really appreciate hearing thoughts on characterization, writing, any minor mistakes, etc. Please feel free to message me!

I’ve never done a TW before, so if I miss something, please tell me and I will add it! I think the things that need a TW have to do with the backgrounds, so death, physical violence, gang activity. Again, if I miss something, PLEASE tell me.

Before

The memory of your mother is a hazy one. You know you loved her- her face is harder to conjure. You have the vague memory of citrus perfume, too-blonde hair, shoulders shaking with laughter. You have a holo from her case file, and you suppose you look enough alike, mostly around the nose, but you just... you can’t place her in your childhood.

It was a Tuesday evening when you found out she was missing. You’d been staying with your neighbor while your mother was at work, parked in front of the TV munching crackers as the characters on screen sang a song about friendship.You can remember every stupid word.

Amanda, your neighbor, had been getting testy; your mom was late. It was almost three hours past when she got off work when Amanda got a call and chaos broke.

The rest of the evening comes only in flashes now. The itchy, pink and yellow jumper you’d been wearing with snot-drenched sleeves. The worn, leather seats in the back of your caseworker’s car. An unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar place.

It’s a blur; you didn’t understand completely what was happening. You were six. You knew that mom was gone, but you didn’t understand where or why. You asked when she was coming back.

They didn’t have an answer.

----

Your mother was never found. Maybe she died, either back then or since, maybe she’s still alive somewhere, a survivor of the Reaper war. You have no idea, and frankly you aren’t sure that it matters. At least now. It mattered then.

Because your mother wasn’t declared legally dead, at least until you were fourteen, you couldn’t be adopted. You didn’t have any family to take you in either- not your mom’s family, she’d never talked about them, and certainly not your father whose name wasn’t even on your birth certificate. Instead, you floated from home to home every few weeks, months, years, hauling all your worldly possessions in trash bags along with you. Some placements were better than others. There was one where you’d only lasted two and a half weeks, but there was another that was almost 18 months.

The Shepards. You’d liked them; Nick and Silas. They were an eldery couple that you’d moved in with after your 9th birthday. They moved off-planet when you were ten. They’d petitioned to adopt you and take you with them, but your mom was still legally alive, and you were moved.

You found it hard to settle after that; nothing was comfortable. It couldn’t be. The moment you got comfortable was the moment you’d be moved again.

The Reds were different. You don’t remember how you fell in with them, not specifically, but you do remember having that aching need to belong somewhere, and that they fulfilled that need.

You were useful to them. You could crawl into places that the others were too big to get into. You could get into a building and squirrel away cargo, or let others in. You weren’t a bad pickpocket either. You were a child; if (when) you got caught, you could play innocent, not like the others. You could claim ignorance, youth. The Reds protected you. You were indispensable.

Until you weren’t.

----

Your biotics announced themselves with an explosion of blue light. You’d been in the middle of a job with Miller, trying to sneak some cargo out of a warehouse outside of Vancouver. He’d said something (you can’t remember what now, but it had pissed you off), and suddenly there was a flash of blue, he’d been thrown into the shelves a few meters away, and the bones in your arm had wrenched themselves apart. You’re sure you screamed, that both of you did, but you don’t remember. The pain had been so blinding that you’d passed out in seconds.

When you woke up in the hospital, you weren’t alone. Your caseworker, Cecil, was there, accompanied by a dour faced person in navy blue. Sargent Blake, Cecil had told you. Sargent Blake was there to invite you to the Alliance.

The System’s Alliance needed biotics; they’ve always needed biotics, and the state wasn’t really equipped to handle them. The Alliance had a program for biotic children. They’d taken care of the criminal charges you’d faced, and they would provide food, lodging, and education. You were a ward of the state, and the state transferred your custody while you’d slept. Invite. Feh. Like hell. The decision had already been made.

Still, you were luckier than Miller. You found out later that he was comatose for almost eight months, and arrested after he awoke. To say the Reds would no longer welcome you would be an understatement. They would’ve loved to get their hands on you.

Didn’t matter. The Alliance had you.

----

“Jane Shepard? The doctor will see you now.” You’d hesitated before following the nurse out of the waiting room. Shepard. It felt so odd. You hoped the change would keep the Reds from finding you, and you knew Nick and Silas wouldn’t mind.

Still, there were a lot of changes in a short amount of time. New ability, new name, and now new place and new species. Well, new to you anyway. As your salarian nurse took you to your exam room, you’d tried hard not to stare as they ran you through a standard medical battery. The alliance had brought you and all of their other new trainees to the citadel to get your physicals and your implants. It was surreal. You’d never seen an alien before, at least in person. Everything was so new, you’d never felt so... off balance before. But this was your new normal, and you had to adjust eventually.

----

You officially enlisted in the Alliance on your eighteenth birthday, to the surprise of no one. You’d already been engaged in their biotic training program for almost two years, and you were close to completing your secondary education under the program.

Every single teenager in that program ended up enlisted. Sometimes you guys liked to think of what you guys could do outside the Alliance; teachers, writers, cops, scientists, everything, but for the life of you, you’d never been able to imagine anything else. The Alliance felt inevitable; biotics weren’t exactly welcome in civilian life, and you didn’t have the money or support system to try to strike out on your own.

Basic was split, biotics separate from the others. It was weird. In this place of training and strength, there was an underlying understanding. The biotics were more dangerous. They had had training before. They didn’t need a weapon; they were weapons. But at that point you weren’t sure how to be anything else.

----

Nomination for ICT wasn’t a surprise. You’d worked your ass off for the Alliance and anyway, if there was a push for biotics to join the military, there was a shove to get them into special forces. You’d been a good little biotic; kept your head down, temper in check, taking and conquering even the most basic assignments without problem or complaint.

Despite the competitive atmosphere of Vila Militar, you’d ended up making friends for the first time in years. Or maybe they made you. Shaw, a too-energetic, puppyish engineer, was never going to let you shrug off his friendship, he was too damn persistent. John Shepard had also been pulled into his orbit, and the two of you had bonded over your exasperation with Shaw, mutual love of shit beer and competition, and frustration at sharing a name.

The three of you were an odd group, but it worked. Shaw was excitable and personable, keeping you together with sheer will. John (not Shepard, you’re Shepard) was responsible, a group mom through and through, trying in vain to keep you out of trouble. And you? Well, you’ve always been a bit... brusque, but they balanced it well.

They were family, or the closest you’d had in a long time. The rest didn’t matter.

----

John-fucking-Shepard, the big-fucking-hero. Of course he was on Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz, and of course he kicked ass to the point he was getting the Star of Terra, not to mention his damn N7 commendation.

“Just in the right place at the right time,” he’d said sheepishly when you and Shaw had caught up with him after the ceremony. You’d never rolled your eyes so hard. John always had a lucky streak a mile wide and it wouldn’t end anytime soon.

“That’s okay,” Shaw had replied with a grin as you pulled John into a headlock and messed his hair. “We’ll get you next time.”

He’d laughed because of course he did. “I look forward to it.”

----

When you had landed on Akuze with your unit, you’d expected pirates. Slavers. A straightforward explanation to the missing colonists. Instead, the only thing to greet you were empty, undisturbed buildings. It was like everyone just got up and left.

Your platoon, all 49 of them plus you and Shaw, searched the colony on your commander’s orders, but there was nothing. The terminals were all wiped clean, the data pads were gone, there weren't any tracks. Hell, there wasn’t even dust.

You all made camp nearby as the sun sunk below the horizon. None of you would say so but there was something eerie about the lost colony. Haunted. Like the planet was holding its breath.

The first maw came near midnight, announcing itself with a roar and with trembling ground that shook you out of sleep. They caught you by surprise. You may have had guards and scouts, but there was no warning.

You don’t remember much of the attack, dammit, you don’t remember. There are flashes of chaos- gunfire, screams, thresher maws pulling whole ground transports full of soldiers beneath the Earth. You remember running so hard your breath was just quick gasps, the cobalt corona of your biotics expanding around you, flashes of Shaw’s face contorted with resolution, the red of viscera everywhere you look.

You’re not even sure if those are real memories, or just echoes from your nightmares. Maybe it’s your brain filling in the gaps from what you’ve been told.

You were found 11 clicks away from camp, splattered with blood and armor corroded from acid, and passed out from pain (or so you were told. You don’t remember). Both of your arms had broken during the ordeal, likely from over-extending your biotics. You were alone. No platoon, no Shaw, not even a single body. The team that found you said that the colony was in a maw nest, that six thresher maws had attacked the camp. They destroyed the colony, the camp, and your platoon. In return, the unit only managed to kill two of them, but the bastards had the element of surprise.

You didn’t put it together until you were in a hospital, but something was wrong. More wrong than losing your whole platoon, losing Shaw, to fucking worms. They’d said the colony must have been destroyed by the maws, that they must have killed the colonists, but that’s not right. Those buildings were spotless. There were no bodies. There was no anything. The maws didn’t kill the colonists. They’re not that clean.

You tried to tell the brass. They’d given you your N7 commendation for surviving that hell; you thought that meant they’d trust you. They didn’t.

“You’ve been through a lot,” they’d told you at the memorial. “Maybe you need to take some time.” Maybe they were right, but you still knew what you saw. If you wanted answers, you’d have to find them on your own time.

----

You hit a lot of dead ends fast, and used up most of your leave following up leads that took you nowhere. It’d barely been a year before you only had one path left. The Shadow Broker.

It took every last credit you had, but they agreed to send an agent to meet you.

John agreed to go with you to the meet up point on the Citadel, in some hole in the wall cafe. It felt like time was slowing down as the agent approached. You were finally going to get answers. Then time stopped with a loud CRACK, and the contact fell dead, a hole left in the middle of their head.

You were paranoid; you’d always been paranoid. That day, it’d saved your ass. You’d been trying to get the fuck out of there when another bullet ripped through your barrier, bruising your back but, mercifully, nothing more.

You’d been far from the door. There had been two shooters, above, out of sight.

You and John didn’t say so after you’d escaped, but it had been a warning shot. Any snipers worth their salt could have killed you.

Stupid, you were so stupid.

You’d returned to your apartment, head pounding. Before you said a word, John had pulled you against his chest, squeezing hard. You remember looking him in the eyes, seeing the naked fear there.

“Stop looking.”

You’d promised you would.

You didn’t.

----

Well, at least not intentionally. When you contacted the Shadow Broker again (or their intermediary anyway), you were informed the price for the information had doubled. You were already broke, you couldn’t afford the information. You tried to double back and get your hands on the report from that day in the cafe, but there was nothing solid to follow, no leads.

What you got instead was a new assignment.

Operation Adrestia. The words tasted odd in your mouth. It’s internal affairs, sort of. Monitoring and chasing leads on operations led by humans that would wreck Alliance credibility with the Citadel. Monitoring and thwarting fringe scientists, extremists groups, keeping tabs on category sixes...

You didn’t do the investigation, just acted on information the brains gave you. If you were honest, you actually liked it. At least it was more interesting than your service had been. Lead to some good stories at least.

Disrupting a Terra Firma attack on a predominantly salarian transport.

Stopping colonial governments in the Traverse from antagonizing batarians to trigger Alliance/Hegemony conflicts.

Even the less ostentatious operations like quietly discharging an Alliance attache who’d looked a little farther than legal into AI.

It kept you busy, but it was work you loved.

----

It was 2183 when you were contacted by Admiral Kahoku. He had found out his squad was lured to their deaths with a false distress signal in the middle of a maw nest and correctly assumed you’d be interested in following the thread. Akuze was common knowledge, and Kahoku was the first member of the brass to even humor your idea that it was anything other than a tragic accident.

He’d gotten in touch with the Shadow Broker. They’d given him a name and a location.

Cerberus.

Binthu in the Voyager Cluster.

Finally, a chance for answers.

He was planning to go and wanted back up. Probably smart, considering how Cerberus disrupted your previous contact with the Broker.

It was quick and quiet, like everything you did for the Alliance. Scans of the planet reveal three active Cerberus strongholds.

The two of you decide that time was of the essence, that you needed to be quick to get information before they noticed you.

You decided to split up.

That was a mistake.

#mass effect #fanfiction #commander #shepard #femshep #shepshep #wip #2nd POV #kahoku #akuze #earthborn #sole survivor #pre mass effect #pre ME

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