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polkiuu · 6 months

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2023 Dive Into Aquaplus

After having been into Utawarerumono for well over a decade, and having one foot into Tears to Tiara for the longest of time as well, I decided to finally take the plunge this year to try a variety of Aquaplus' very colorful catalogue.

I got into Utawarerumono a long, long time ago, back when the 2006 anime adaption of it was still airing. At the time, my like of it was mostly superficial. I was still a kid, and I just liked the aesthetics of it. I only started watching it because the name was long and nonsense to me who didn't know a lick of JP at the time. But it stuck with me as it was one of the first few anime I had started watching as it was airing in Japan and subbed. It also introduced me to Suara, who my love for has been anything but superficial.

If it weren't for the 2015 anime adaption of Utawarerumono Itsuwari no Kamen, it may have just stayed as a memory of aesthetics. A few episodes into its airing, I had a strong urge to buy the game, and so I asked for it for Christmas. I was never the same since.

While waiting for the release of Utawarerumono Futari no Hakuoro later in 2016, I got my hands on Tears to Tiara 2 to try and fill the void. I had previously seen the Tears to Tiara anime back in 2009 while it was airing, as I had immediately recognized the art as being similar to Utawarerumono. Looking it up I learned it was from the same company, and Amazuyu had also worked on some of the designs for it as well.

Unfortunately, the game was incredibly difficult for someone like me who is terrible at strategy games, and the writing didn't manage to hook me early on, so I ended up putting the game on hold indefinitely about 10 hours in. At some point in 2017 I picked up the remake of the first game, Tears to Tiara Kakan no Daichi, and really loved it. It still wouldn't be until this year though that I fully threw myself into the Tears to Tiara franchise.

Fast forward to 2023, through various Utaware phases and burnouts, and the release of Monochrome Mobius: Rights and Wrongs Forgotten along with the 3rd anniversary event in the Utawarerumono Lost Frag mobile game re-igniting my mood for the series at the tail end of 2022, I finally decide that this year is the time to make due on my desire to play more Aquaplus titles.

Tears to Tiara II: Heir of the Overlord

Seven years after my first attempt, I finally went back to this in January and finally completed it. My issues from my first attempt never really went away, however the writing managed to hook me around chapter 5, and I had a lot more enjoyment with the OST and various small things now that I had actually experienced the first game, and not just the anime. The uses of Until and Tears to Tiara 凱歌 will live in my head rent free until the end of time.

Tarte became not only my favorite TtT character, but maybe even my #1 Aquaplus favorite. ああっ女神さまっ…

This game got me to start paying attention to Honjou Tatami.

The nostalgia for the first TtT game wrecked me hard and I ended up replaying it right after.

Tears to Tiara: Kakan no Daichi

我が友よ

My Tears to Tiara mood was unstoppable, and so I finally bought its fandisc.

Tears to Tiara Gaiden - Avalon no Nazo

Nothing could have prepared me for the Lidia content in this game or the dragon stage straight from the ninth level of hell.

I still haven't recovered from the ending and the double whammy of realizing what the start of the OP is. The bastards really did it twice.

After this I went on a spree and bought all the LEs and the novels and manga... it is criminal how little supplementary material the games have, and how 2 has none. I have nothing to go on now but copium and offering my life to Marui Takeshi.

Tears to Tiara Gaiden 2 and Tears to Tiara 3 when.

Next, I played my first dating sim in 8~9 years, and a more obscure one at that.

Routes

You don't know what you're getting into until you've already beaten this game.

One of the more unique things I've experienced, to the point I don't know how to talk about it without spoiling it, and it is definitely a game best played blind. Quite possibly the most unique script-writing I've seen. The way the two scenario writers duties were split is one of the best uses of multiple writers that I've seen in a game.

The voice acting in this game is a masterpiece.

One thing I really love about both Routes and Tears to Tiara is the kind outlook on life they have.

I started this just before the Dungeon Travelers 2 series re-release and still have not touched those.

Next, I somehow ended up on one of their most famous.

White Album 2 ~Introductory Chapter~

Short, but emotionally loaded. After All ~Tsudzuru Omoi~ changed me as a person.

I started this one just a few days before the first White Album game's re-release because of course I did.

White Album 2 ~Closing Chapter~

One very charged, and very long work. I had to sit on it for quite a while after. I also binged all its supplemental material.

I haven't had a love/hate relationship with something this strong since, well, Inuyasha. You have issues, Maruto.

Kazusa Normal was a great route.

WHITE ALBUMの季節はまだまだこれからだよ。

White Album ~Tsuzurareru Fuyu no Omoide~

A little underwhelming, honestly. The way the gameplay and routes are structured makes the writing very fragmented. Had some nice moments, but overall I enjoyed the writing of Sayoko's route most, as it feels most coherent, likely due to it being added into the 2010 remake.

Despite the fragmented writing, I did like many of the heroines quite a bit.

White Album has been stuck in my head for months, and now the season for it is upon us...

And what would be most fitting to follow it up with another winter-related game, if not...

Tenshi no Inai 12-gatsu

It might be time to lay off the depresso games for a bit, as I had a hard time getting into this one. In a weird way it reminded me a lot of how screwed up my own mentality was when I was younger, and it's not something I cared to remember. I suppose it gets points for realistically depicting the unstable nature of the adolescent mind.

It had some interesting underlying themes, and I don't dislike the message of it, but I was unable to feel any investment in the heroines. I may have liked it more if the characters were a little more fleshed out.

I've only just beaten it, so I need to sit on my thoughts for it a little longer.

And then a special mention to none other than:

Utawarerumono Lost Frag

I finally picked this back up in November 2022, during it's 3rd anniversary event when they added Raikou. It's not every day you get an entire event dedicated to your only OTP in the series.

I got especially into it after my TtT marathon, and I've read most events, various character stories and a little of the main story. I always wanted to give it another chance, and I'm glad to have finally found something to pull me back into it. I really enjoy what it offers, from the expansions of various Utaware lore, to doing things only a social game really can. The event writing is out of this world.

It gave me 2 of the top 3 things I wanted to see for 7 years from the series now and I can only pray it delivers on the last someday.

Final thoughts

I've had a lot of Aquaplus vocal tracks in my library for many years, and its fun to go through their backlog and realize what songs are from what, and which ones I had that I didn't even realize were from Aquaplus games. And since I've followed Suara since 2006, making the connection between her discography and where her non-utaware songs are from has been a blast so far.

I look forward to diving further in in 2024. I want to give their other famous series like Dungeon Travelers and ToHeart a shot. Comic Party is still waiting on my shelf, as well.

Going through different time periods with their artists is a really fun adventure from an artist's perspective. It's fun to see where they've improved, what habits they've kept, the areas where they adjust things to be more modern, and how their painting evolves. For a long time I only knew Amazuyu by name, but now it's fun to glance at an artwork and be like "Oh, so and so drew this around xxxx year."

I want to see another game with Tatami as the main artist...

I also recently realized the only things I've finished since March have been various Aquaplus fanarts (I have drawn other things, just not finished...) Something unlocked in my brain and I'm enjoying drawing again to an extent, and for that I'm glad.

#aquaplus #utawarerumono #tears to tiara #white album 2 #white album #routes #tenshi no inai 12gatsu #tears to tiara 2 #polka talks

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eirian-houpe · 1 year

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The Monday Menu

Well, I did it... I finished Disparate Pathways. The final chapter was posted this morning. It has been a journey that started in December of 2019 with Witness Protection. Written for the Rumbelle Secret Santa, I was constrained for time, and found myself leaving out a lot of backstory, which I really wanted to include. My solution was to write the remix, which became the 57 chapter long epic that I finished posting today. I’m going to miss writing for those characters. The dangerous ex-cartel scion, Gold, and the bad-ass-with-a-heart-of-gold, FBI agent Jefferson Milnor. I’m not ready to say goodbye!

For those of you that are new to the fandom, or have been hibernating (and who could blame anyone for that given the state of the world) the past couple of years, the Rumbelle Showdown is in full swing. Round 2 brackets are posted, and writers are, I would imagine, currently working on their fics. Round 1 had some awesome fics, and there’s still a chance for you to identify the favorite you had among those eliminated from round 1. I know that included some of my favorites. Run - don’t walk - to the Showdown blog. Don’t miss out!

Hopefully I will be able to find time to get some writing done this week, and here’s the plan for what this week might look like:

Monday - The Monday Menu - what it says on the box. A plan for the week, also, sometimes, a Monday Mmmm. There won’t always be one of these, just when something troubling or interesting crosses my path.

Tuesday - TMI Tuesday. - Ask me… go on, anything. Ask my characters -they’ll answer. Nothing is off limits, but be sure you want the answer before you ask the question.

Wednesday - WIP Wednesday - Current state of my works in progress. So many - and still climbing!

Thursday - Three Things Thursday - any fic of mine is fair game. Doesn’t have to be Rumbelle, I have Rushbelle, a bunch of crossovers, some shows people might no know, some ST: DSC, some SGA and some Tolkien too… ask three things, I dare ya…! Please… This is also the day I’ll do the ‘Behind the Scenes’ post, which might just end up as part of the TTT post.

Friday - Final Line Friday. - Assuming I manage to write anything, I will post a word cloud, and the last line that I have written right before I post this. Also I hope to be able to start a Fic Rec Friday too, which won’t always be Rumbelle, but could be any fandom out there.

Saturday - Saturday Secret - another one of those where you can ask about any fic, and I’ll tell (or show) you a secret. Feel free to follow up with conversation or guesses. I will tell you if you get something right. Again, no one took me up on the offer… so we might also have to think of another ‘SA’ post.

Sunday - Seven Sentence Sunday. - yeah, I have to write something to be able to post this.

Writing this week - Same as last week... Modern Wonders (At least I’d like to try and get some writing done on this fic. It has been calling to me after all). Also perhaps dabbling in some Not Yours to Keep and/or some Laer o Faen.

As always my inbox is open for thoughts, questions, asks… I don’t restrict people to any particular day of the week, and I - like most fic authors - love to discuss things to do with fics and fandom.

I just want to add a shout out to those readers who have left me comments and kudos these last several days. It has not gone un-noticed. love you guys for those votes of confidence..

Talk to me, peeps! My inbox is lonely,

#The monday menu #modern wonders #Not Yours To Keep #laer o faen #The Rumbelle Showdown #asks welcome #feel free to prompt me

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piefanart · 7 years

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The Tales of a Teenage Time Traveler: Chapter Seven

before you read this, pleaes remember that this was originally a self-insert crossover fanfiction written by two eleven year olds. im changing a lot of the story at this bit as i got along, but if it seems like the characters are op or that it feels like a star wars fanfiction, thats because it is. well, it was up until we were 13 or 14. anyways, this chapter is longer then the rest becasue i couldnt figure out a place to put the chapter break.

also, apparently the whole thing is 12 pages long in my word document already. over 4000 words too........... this thing is going to be massive.

enjoy! cunstructive critisism is welcomed!!

Chapter seven

“Here we are, Tatooine,” Hannah announced as the door flew open. I stepped outside and was greeted with a blast of crippling heat. I put my hand up to my face to shield my eyes from the intense light of the twin suns.

“When is this?” I asked as Hannah stepped out of the ship. She pulled up her sleeve and glanced at what looked to me like a fancy watch. “Few days before Episode One,” she muttered. She glanced at me, I was still wearing my favorite white Star Wars t-shirt and my black jeans.

“Yeah, you can't wear that,” She decided, pulling off her jacket. She flung it at me. “Put this on.”

I pulled it over my shoulder and zipped it up to cover the picture of Luke fighting Vader.

“But this is way too hot to wear!” I protested.

Hannah glared at me. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to let these people see that shirt? Its like wearing a World War Three uniform around Earth! Except, those uniforms aren't very recognizable, but you know what I mean!”

“Ooh,” I mumbled in understanding. Hannah reached into her pocket and dug out a small bag filled with some sort of coin. She threw it to me.

“Here, go buy yourself new clothes. I'll be around.” she instructed, turning and walking off.

“W-wait!” I yelled, dashing after her. “How will I be able to find you? How will I be able to find anything around here? I mean, at least the ship-” I looked back at the ship, expecting it to be a mailbox, but it wasn't. The ship had taken the form of a small moisture evaporator.

“Hannah!” I gasped. She stared at me, then realization hit her. She pulled a small metal cynlinder out of her pocket.

“This is a comlink. It's keyed to mine and mine alone. You will be able to talk to me at any time with it. As for the ship, it changes to match the surroundings. Pretty neat, right?”

I nodded, turning the comlink in my hand. It was just like the pictures in my star wars books. I clipped it to my belt loop.

“Well then. See ya around,” Hannah said, before walking off again. I stood still, my feet frozen to the ground. Everything seemed so surreal. I glanced around, I was in the middle of a town. Mos Eisley, most likely, I decided.

A Gonk droid walked slowly past me, turning to go around the corner of one of the large domed buildings. Pulling the hood up over my head, I decided to follow it.

The droid's walking speed was slow, as is with most gonk droids. But I soon came across a little open market. I noticed a booth ran by an elderly lady selling clothes, and hurried over to it.

“I need something to keep the heat away,” I tried to say. But the words came out more like a strained choking sound. It was always like this when I needed to talk to people. The lady stared at me, examining my clothes. “Not from around here, are you?” she asked. Her voice was ragged and high-pitched. I nodded. She turned around and began digging through a pile of fabrics, murmuring to herself. She held up a dark grey cloak, considered it, then set it aside. She did this over and over with different articles of clothing, until finally she decided on a simple white blouse, a thick rugged skirt, and matching loose white pants. “Will these suit you?” She asked, smiling. I held them up to myself. The fabrics were thick and rough, but lightweight and cool. I nodded, grinning. I pulled out the pouch Hannah gave me, when a flash of red caught my attention. I stared at it for a while. The old lady noticed my stare and picked it up; it was a tattered red cloak.

“You like this?” she asked. I nodded again and she handed it to me.

I cleared my throat, rehearsing the following line over and over in my head. “H-how much?” I whispered, hoping the vender heard me. Luckily, she did.

“Fifty wupiupi should be fine,” she said. I pulled out a handful of coins, counting them out. They were heavy in my hand, but I knew the names of them from reading so many Star Wars books. I handed the lady the coins, hoping I had enough counted out. She turned them over in her hand, counting quietly to herself.

“Oh, dear, you've overpaid me,” she said, handing me back a few of them. I put my hands up. “No, you keep them. I'm sure you could use them more then me,” I said. She smiled, more genuinely now then before. “Bless you,” she breathed. I assumed I had overpaid by quite a large amount. I nodded and walked away, holding the clothes under my arm. I noticed a restaurant nearby and headed over.

I walked up to the man at the register. He was a rather greasy looking

besalisk, wearing a stained and tattered apron. At the beginning of its life, the apron might have been a crisp white, but now it was a tye-dye of browns and greys.

“Ain't you a purdy thing,” he said, leaning over the counter to look at me. “Need somethin'?” he asked, wiping his lower hands on a towel and gesturing with his upper arms. I stared at the counter as I spoke.

“D-do you have a…. restroom?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Yeah, eh, its over there,” he said, gesturing to a small building set behind the eating area. I nodded my thanks and began walking towards it.

“Hey, wait just a second 'ere!” he yelled after me. I stopped and turned back to him. “Fer payin' customers only,” he explained. I nodded slowly and looked at the menu.

“A slice of haroun please,” I said quietly.

“That'll be two,” he said. I handed him the coins and he gave me the haroun. It was a small slice of a dark brown bread-like object. I wrapped it in a napkin and headed towards the restroom to change.

#ttt #ttt chapter seven #mcefi

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notasdriedapricots · 3 years

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Hi, I'm momentarily back because of reasons.

Well, I don't know. Maybe it's something, maybe it's nothing. I have no idea. Anyway, TTT reached 500 hits. Is that a lot? Is it barely anything? Both? Either? Again, I have no idea, but it's a number.

That's the thing, it's dumb, that's all.

I just noticed it was close when I updated yesterday, and thought "I'll check what's the deal with that today..." So, as I said, I have no clue if this is average, or underwhelming, or whatever.

The thing is, you might think "Oh, yeah, sure" when I say I never expected people to read TTT in the first place. Much less find people who like it. I am not a writer, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I don't think I know anyone who writes, or that I'm close enough to talk to about it (if you read this, Rara, you don't count. In the good sense, like in the dinosaur comic). I'm flying by the seat of my pants here.

And I know those hits are distributed between seven chapters, and that it's also counting the people who read half a chapter and left, and that some of those might be accidentally mine (I don't think I've clicked into it myself, but I might be wrong). But I don't know. It still means that some people saw my dumb title, and my shitty summary, and the fat word count, and still at least gave it a chance. Why would you do that?

And I won't bash my writing, no matter how much I want to, because I owe it to that nice anon that made my morning, and to the people here that has said such nice things to me about TTT. So I won't say anything else. It's just... been a weird couple of days.

En fin, this is just a tiny milestone that I have no idea if it's worth even noting, but why the hell not?

#TTT #sofi rambles #🎶 ignore 🎶 me 🎶 i'm 🎶 just 🎶 being 🎶 dramatic 🎶

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ibizase80 · 3 years

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Questions for the PJO Fandom, pt.2:

I'm curious about what is the moment of PJO books you love the most or you just can't forget.

What's your favourite moment/chapter/scene from:

- Percy Jackson and the Olympians,

- Heroes of Olympus,

- The Trials of Apollo?

I'll start with mine! It's definitely NOT easy:

- PJO: Percy bathing in the River Styx (envisioning Annabeth) and destroying Hades' army (TLO)

- HOO: Pic-nic with Seven + Reyna, Nico and Coach Hedge, leaving with Athena Parthenos (and Percy and Annabeth thanking Nico after Tartarus) (HOH)

- TOA: Meg crying because she's scared about what could happen to injured Lester and Apollo hugging her saying she's the little sister he never had (TTT)

What about you? Feel free to add a comment, reblog or send me a message! ✨

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melissanovels · 4 years

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♡ Here they are!! Chapters 1 & 2 of TRANSIENT TIME TRAVELLER are out! ♡

○ Read on my Website ○ Read on Tumblr (below) ○ Read on Ao3 ○

TTT is an LGBTQ+ historical fantasy novel about Aida, a time traveller hellbent on proving the innocence of a 1,200-year-old dead queen, and Lorian, an escaped princess-turned-officer who wants to drain the royal blood from their body, & the two coming together with the help of their mischievous future selves.

♡ Reblogs are appreciated! ♡

Read Chapter 1 + 2 Below:

Chapter 1: Six Weeks Before

Aida’s life was forever changed when she received a letter in the mail.

She never got letters. Being adopted into a small family in a smaller farm in Bělico didn’t bless her with birthday gifts or congratulatory mail. She estimated that no one other than her stepmother and her stepsisters knew of her existence, so Aida ghosted through life without much interference.

But she knew this letter, had been anticipating it for weeks since she’d sent in her application under her mother’s nose. It was handwritten on high-quality paper, the feeling new to her, foreign, and was branded with the seal of the Roman lion. She’d dreamt of getting these royal letters in the mail, wishful hope turning into dread come nighttime, but she hadn’t thought she'd receive a reply, let alone a letter of acceptance.

She’d been tending to the farm, or the cows, mainly. The chickens, pigs, sheep, and goats had been taken care of and her stepmother and stepsisters had their two horses out on a carriage ride to the village, so all that was left to handle was their five highland cows. Big, burly creatures more fur than hide. It took Aida more time to heave the heavy bales of hay into their stables, to groom them, wash them, clean out their troughs. She’d hadn’t even heard the post carrier arrive, she’d been on the other side of the property. When she realized her family would be home soon, she hurried to get everything done so her stepmother would be in a better mood. Well, a less shit one.

There was one piece of mail that day, and it’d been addressed to Aida.

When her mother and sister finally came home and found Aida on the floor, frantically rereading the letter with the envelope torn with her teeth, they must’ve assumed she’d had jumped and was writhing in pain as a result.

She was writhing, but not because she’d travelled backwards in time. Her brain was spinning, eyes watering due to some type of emotion she couldn’t name. After fighting for years, she’d finally earned this damned six-year scholarship to Durante Academy.

Not that wanting to dorm at a school named after King Durante’s lineage was something she was excited about. She detested almost everything the royal family did, and she didn’t even live in Roma. Roma, or Roma City, was 1,500 kilometers away, across the sea and doing far better for itself than her home country of snow-covered farmlands. She should’ve loathed becoming a student in the country with the bloodiest warpath, the worst, most prejudiced ruler, and the shittiest armed forces since the time of gladiators.

But how she’d dreamed of walking through those academic halls, taking in the prestigious lessons in fervor and staying up late to perfect a soon-to-be perfectly marked test. Schools in Bělico, you were expected to drop out of after primary school to work your family’s farms. It made sense for some people. Agriculture was the biggest export for the country, so families expected many hands to tend to the fields.

But that wasn’t Aida’s path. Ever since she’d been adopted, Aida Mirko had set her sights on becoming a historian, and that path was only attainable in the sparkling, problematic country of Roma.

It was only after Aida heard her mother slam the door did she realize her mistake: being indulgent.

“What’re y’all doing?” one of her stepsisters, Ekaterina, asked.

“You tracked in mud,” her other sister, Olga, said. She had her upper lip curled as she looked over where Aida had run in from the fields.

Her mother looked over the mess Aida had made, then at the letter still in her hand.

Then she slapped her across the cheek and sent her glasses across the living room.

She should’ve expected it. How dare her. Here she was, trying to better herself in a world where most people wanted her kind dead, and she’d just been accepted into one of the world’s most prestigious academies known in Roma. It had only a seven percent acceptance rate. To any parent, that would’ve been cause for celebration.

Her mother grabbed Aida by the collar and dragged her upstairs to her room. Her mother and sisters lived downstairs near the warm fireplaces, while Aida had the joy of taking the stairs she struggled with and lived in the cold attic at the top of the steps. She had a fucking cane and a limp, and these people couldn’t care less.

“Mo’mma, wait—”

Her mother slammed the bedroom door behind her. “How dare you?”

Aida fell backwards into her bed.

“You ain’t going,” she decided. “You have obligations here. You work the farm, you care for us. How selfish can you be, leaving all of that to become a damned academic?”

“I want…to be a historian,” Aida said, trying so hard to carefully explain something she’d wanted for years. With her limp, it was difficult to do any sort of manual labor. She got tired easily, her dizzy spells were becoming more frequent. Her sisters, they weren’t expected to do half the chores she was forced to do, yet she did them. She hated herself, but she did as she was told because it gave her a roof over her head and food on the table and a bed to dream about a life better than this. In the rare hours she had for sleep, she studied and overworked her abilities to prove that a Visatorre deserved to learn, something that’d been barred from her people for centuries.

She didn’t expect praise, or admiration. She couldn’t dream like that. All she wished was for her mother to stop hitting her. She didn’t know why she was selfish asking that.

Her mother stood tall over her. “You ain’t going.”

Aida fixed her broken glasses over her nose. “I was accepted.”

“I ain’t paying for it.”

“I know that.”

“What do you mean ‘I know that’? You won’t be able to afford it. The journey ’cross the sea alone is ten gold.”

To her mother, it’d seem that way, but Aida had been saving up. For years, she’d been putting away her childhood allowance underneath the broken floorboard next to her bed. After turning fifteen, her mother had stopped paying her for her work. Aida had thought it was because her mother had finally seen her as a daughter more than a servant. Then she found out Ekaterina’s and Olga’s allowance had doubled.

So, she’d taken to writing school papers for the local village kids. Those who were able to write had trouble forming their thoughts in persuasive essays, so Aida wrote them top-grade papers about history, war, massacres of her own people and the rise of these dictatorships she hated, all behind her mother’s back. If her mother had found that out, she would’ve thrown Aida into the village stockades for lying because “Visatorre folk weren’t smart like normal folk.”

“I have the money,” Aida summarized.

“I don’t care if you got a fortune! Y’all ain’t gonna throw away your life and waste it on an academy when you’re needed here.”

“I’ll be gone, isn’t that what you’d want?” she shot back, the fear of speaking back pitching her voice. “I’ll be gone for six whole years, and I swear, whatever money I make—”

“‘Money I make’, she says. What money you gonna make there? You know Roma don’t take well to you folk as well as Bělico people do. You’ll be ridiculed. You’ll be ostracized.”

“So how different would it be from here?” Aida wanted to ask. Circa, how she wished she was brave enough to say that. If she’d been high, that defiance would’ve come out, but it would’ve only resulted in her being hit harder.

Aida lowered her head, feigning a defeat.

Her mother harrumphed and tied up her brown hair in a messy bun. “That’s what I thought. Now.” She held out her hand. Aida flinched. “Give me that letter.”

“No,” Aida said. “Please, just…let me keep it. For memory’s sake.”

Her mother rolled her eyes and wiped her hands on her apron. “Get up and help with the groceries, since you didn’t want to help when we came in. The rest are in the carriage.”

Aida nodded and went for her cane. It was a dark, simple thing made from a tree branch in the woods around them.

Her mother kicked it and knocked it into the wall. The force made it tip and spill Aida’s half-filled drinking glass to the ground.

Aida froze.

“Realize your stance in this house,” her mother warned, “and stop making such foolish decisions behind my back.”

“I will,” Aida said, and waited for her mother to leave down the stairs, where she heard her sisters whispering about what their mother had just told their servant daughter.

She gripped her cane as tightly as she could. The one thing about being in your twenties was that, while you might’ve been afraid of your parents and they’d wrecked your self-confidence and self-worth beyond recognition for more than a decade, if you had the money and the drive to defy the Gods, you could change your future for the better.

After hearing her mother leave, Aida went for her travel bags.

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Nights at the Mirko household came early, as they—she—had to get up at four in the morning to take care of the livestock. Feed them, gather the eggs, change the hay, sweep out both barns, weed out the gardens. Aida half-expected her mother to put more energy into their own livelihood instead of working on how to destroy her own daughter’s confidence, but she couldn’t expect much of anything from them anymore.

Aida knew she was smart. She wouldn’t have gotten her scholarship if she hadn’t been. All the years of extra-credit and letter after letter of recommendations had paid off. It didn’t matter what her mother thought of her. She would reclaim her dignity without her.

The night she received her letter, Aida woke up at three and began packing. It’d taken a chunk of her savings to leave now, as she’d planned to leave later towards the school year where travel costs decreased, but she’d manage. She always did. She currently had seventy pieces of gold lyria to her name. It wasn’t much—it barely covered a month’s worth of groceries for her family—but if she used it right, it’d get her a life without them in it.

Because, in all her twenty-three years of living, she knew that “family” could go fuck themselves with how much good they did for her.

She dressed in a black dress fit for the night and braided her hair in her favorite way, down her front in two braids that never seemed even. She was bigger than most girls: both of her sisters’ weights combined. She hoped the school uniforms could accommodate her, and that they weren’t tacky. She needed a self-esteem boost, not a downgrade from what clothes she’d been given.

After packing her non-essentials, she got to work packing the more important items: her journals, thick with cut-outs and pictures from used books she’d pasted into it; her history texts on the once luxurious country of Siina and its murdered queen; the first book in the En Tempore Rose sextet, Pinnacle Isle; and the signed playbooks from the opera-ballet adaptation she’d bartered for in exchange for an eight-page essay.

She’d gone to see the opera once, and by “seen,” she meant she’d snuck away into the theatre for ten minutes during a family trip to Roma City when she was six. It’d been during a trading festival where they earned their summer wealth. She’d snuck into the massive theater constructed within the colosseum and caught the last few minutes of the performance before being discovered.

She’d been beaten so hard that she didn’t remember much of the opera, but she remembered loving it. Those few minutes near the stage that made her heart stop and restart with the love of her favorite stories, both real and imaginary. The ballerinas dressed in snow-white lace, the glitter that danced from the rafters. It’d sparked her desire to be a ballerina before she found out that Visatorre were neither allowed to be performers on the stage nor were they allowed to even watch a costly opera to begin with. They were a “risk” to those around them if they travelled backwards into time.

At least she had her journals. She had a dozen or so hand-bound journals she’d made herself because God knew her mother wouldn’t have bought them for her. They detailed her favorite moments in history. Nothing of wars or tyrannical, egotistical kings she couldn’t stand learning about. She was interested in the people, the interpersonal relationships between the royal families and their citizens. Their dresses, the food they ate, the ways they lived their menial lives a millennia ago.

And Eve, a magnificent, tolerant queen to a dead city-state that once held 100,000 Visatorre within its peaceful walls. Aida loved her, knew everything about her life from the minute she was born to the day she was executed. Her city-state, Siina, had once been a well-established community within Roma that could’ve rivaled the country in time.

History said Eve had murdered the Roman king’s wife, so in retaliation, he’d killed her, her lineage, and all 100,000 Visatorre of Siina, burying them within the Catacombs underneath Roma City.

Aida knew for a fact that that part of history was wrong. She’d written papers and thesis on Eve for years, and she couldn’t see the dead queen dipping so far as to murder someone she should’ve seen as an ally. She’d been a young, proud, dedicated Visatorre that housed and raised and loved the biggest population of Visatorre the world had ever seen. Yes, she was rash with some of her decision-making, and she might’ve been labeled “eccentric” in today’s terms, but to murder someone so powerful for no reason, it didn’t add up. It didn’t make sense.

So, Aida was bent on becoming a historian, to rewrite the history books with the truth rather than the propagated schlock crammed down their throats.

After zipping up her final bag, she readied her three-kilometer-long walk to the village. It was mostly leveled terrain, but still, it always burdened her legs. One bad jump six years ago had fucked up her hips, or her back, or her spine, or all three, given her exceptionally bad luck. No doctor had a concrete reason as to why Visatorre were injured when they jumped into the past, they only knew the farther back you went, the worse you came back. Some Visatorre who’d jump 100, 200 years back would come back burning from the inside or with missing limbs, screaming in pain until they needed to take something to their skull to mask the pain. Aida, with all that was stacked up against her, always considered herself lucky that she only needed a cane to get around.

She closed the garden gates slowly, taking the back entrance so she didn’t wake the easily spooked ducks. No more farmlands, no more chores done by six and being hit behind closed doors. Despite years of fucking up, making her think she was useless, too slow, too stupid to be anything more than a servant in her own home, Aida was to mentally burn this place to the ground with her accomplishments.

Or physically, if she became so bold and dire for actual jail time.

She paused at the start of the cow field, eyes darting left and right. While she wouldn’t burn down the farm—she couldn’t hurt the animals—she could do something else. Something more.

She crept into the chicken coop and burgled twenty-four of the largest eggs, enough to keep her fed for a few days, and another six for the carriage. Not hers, but her mother’s, or the one she’d already promised for Olga when she eventually married. Keeping her movements quiet, Aida smashed her extra eggs into the seats and dug the yolk deep into the hides. Then she took charcoal she always kept in her dress pockets and ruined one side of the barn in graffiti. She dumped the milk she’d gotten for that day, she let the chickens loose from the coop. Dumped the drinking water over the hay, overturned the trough. Everything she could do to make her family’s life horrible, but not enough to send an officer after her.

If they connected it to a Visatorre’s doing, she might’ve had one on her tail. Luckily, she wasn’t planning on ever coming back.

She paced herself as she made her way into the village. Idti, a racist outcropping of 500 farmers who’d sell their own daughters for a lick of gold. She kept a knife in her pocket when walking down the dirt roads, waiting to hear someone run up behind her and rob her. Luckily, the carriage house she was planning on using was close to the main road. Beyond the village stretched out a long path to the sea. She could almost smell the cold, salty air.

One driver was smoking near his carriage and reading the paper with his boots kicked up. As Aida neared with lantern and cane in hand, he gave her a look. He made no attempt to hide his ogling at her Visatorre marking: a white circle engraved in the middle of her forehead. Every Visatorre obtained one the first time they travelled, but that didn’t stop non-Visatorre from staring like she had three legs.

“I need a ride to the harbor,” Aida said, keeping her face devoid of emotion.

“Now?” the driver asked.

“Not yesterday,” she said, and gave him three of her gold lyria coins. “The quicker, the better.”

At the sight of priceless gold, the driver instantly folded his paper and sat up. “You’re the Visatorre girl who works up at that farm, ain’t you?”

“Aye.” She took out one of her own cigarettes and had him light it for her. She needed one after this week, and her mother hated the smell in the house. “Let’s say I got fired.”

“Didn’t you live there?”

“Didn’t you need to bring me to the harbor?”

The man clicked his tongue and helped her with her bags.

She took one long inhale as she surveyed the land. The morning birds had yet to begin their songs, and the lack of light let the Moon and stars shine over the country, painting it a deep blue.

“Did you hear the news?” the driver asked, making unneeded small talk. “The princess of Roma, Lucia, she just went missing. Paper’s sayin’ she vanished from her own wedding. Say she got kidnapped or something.”

“Wouldn’t be a change from what we see,” Aida said. While the royal family now was in charge of what she did, she didn’t care for them nearly as much as she cared for the dead ones. The dead ones had more of a history to them that always intrigued her. Plus, she never saw the two twin princesses. One had been married off to the shitstain of Bělico’s King Dmitri as a kid, the other barely left the palace. What was the difference if she went missing?

“Do you think they’ll find her?” asked the driver.

In the distance, Aida saw the faint outline of her home. Her mother’s home—it had never belonged to her. Her mother had tried to be a good mother when she’d first adopted Aida, but the years had tainted her into a villain Aida couldn’t wait to see get their comeuppance.

She gave her home the finger and hopped into the carriage. “Who cares about some dumb princess?”

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

Chapter 2: Six Weeks Before, Continued

Lorian had dreamed about escaping her bedroom through the window. She never thought it would be her last-ditch effort to save her life.

She wasn’t in life-threatening danger. She wasn’t going to die if she stayed the night. Acted proper. Went back downstairs and apologized to her wedding guests, and let Prince Zaahir take her hand like she’d been proclaimed to do since she was six.

That wouldn’t kill her per se, but if it came to that, she’d kill herself. No remorse, no second thoughts. She’d warned her parents that if they followed through with the marriage, it would’ve been the final straw out of the many that they’d already broken for her.

Well, her father had. Everyone knew that despite being the reigning queen, it was Lorian’s father who controlled the country.

That night, after tearing up the wedding dress and ruining every last piece of notable art she had left in her bedroom, Lorian had collapsed into her bed and sobbed so hard, she’d thrown up. Out of everything her parents forced her through, this marriage was the one constant. Let her ruin her dresses, let her throw her infamous temper tantrums hidden from the country. But this marriage, just like her sister’s, would happen. Alliances needed to be formed between the three major countries of the world to keep war at bay, and it’d happen whether she liked it or not. Country before individual. Alliances before children.

The only way out was death.

She’d contemplated it, then kicked herself and fought for another way out. She couldn’t end it here. She had to show her parents that she did have aspirations, just ones outside of royal duties.

The giant clock just outside of Lorian’s room chimed for eleven. Per Roman customs, the wedding kiss would occur at the stroke of midnight, and so far, Lorian hadn’t let any of her maids or officers near her. Not even her own family had come into her room, though they’d tried.

First, her mother, whose frail knocks almost made her heart break. Then her twin sister, Beatrice, born only twelve minutes earlier and thus married off first to a man older than their father. Her methodical, emotionless explanation as to why this needed to marry Zaahir made Lorian break a vase to get her to stop talking.

Carmine was the last person to come. He was the queen’s right-hand man—a Constable, the highest rank given to officers—and childhood friend of the queen. He was the most sympathetic about Lorian’s plight, she’d give him that, but he, like the rest of them, told her to come downstairs and finish what was destined for her. He used to be better, back when he was more a family friend who wasn’t weighed down my medals of honor, but those days were gone, as was Carmine’s carefree nature. It’d been replaced with duties that outweighed Lorian’s happiness.

Her father didn’t come up to check on her.

But she didn’t need any more of his anger tonight. Nobody could talk her into this. She had her mind set, and it was anywhere else but this godforsaken palace.

The only one she’d let come near was Missus Sharma. She’d been Lorian’s and Beatrice’s nursemaid since they were in the womb. She’d taught Lorian mathematics, both the piano and violin, and had guided Lorian through speech therapy to get rid of her lisp yet failed. She also knew almost all of Lorian’s secrets, all of her hidden passions without the threads of marriage and princesshood dragging her down.

Lorian had told her, last year, that she didn’t want to be a princess any longer.

“I know your frustrations, Your Highness,” she’d said, this sixty-year-old maid who deserved so much more than what Lorian gave her.

She didn’t know, however, so when Lorian explained more, that she didn’t want to be a princess, or Lucia, or only a woman but something more, something different, that’d puzzled her. Her generation still lived in the mindset that’d fizzled out during this ruling—people could be who they wanted to be, whether they were a boy, girl, neither, or something in-between.

Those rights weren’t given to royal heirs, especially when it involved the procreation of royal children.

Lorian held her stomach as she thought of a way out of this. Even though she was still figuring out her identity, she was sure as fuck not marrying Zaahir for the sole purpose of bearing children. That thought was so far out of her comfort zone, it was off her radar.

Frustrated by her dwindling time limit, Lorian groaned, took the last of her pillows she hadn’t torn, and threw it against her writing desk. It scattered the letters she’d tried to write to her parents only for her to rip them up because, while his mother might hear her out, her father wouldn’t listen. He never did.

A letter fell to her ornate rug. It was hidden behind one of her jewelry boxes and slipped out when the box fell. It didn’t have a name on it, but it’d been stamped with her family’s seal.

Curious, Lorian picked it up.

Out the window & down to the forest.

Good luck.

She flipped over the note to read the rest, but that was it. It wasn’t even signed, meaning the person didn’t want to be traced back. She examined the handwriting, but that didn’t click either. It looked like the person, whoever had written it, had concealed their own personhood to make the letter untraceable.

She looked back at her door. It was locked, as well as barricaded with her wardrobe. Nobody was coming in any time soon.

She crept towards the window that faced the outer walls. In the past, they were meant to keep enemies out, like the fallen city-state of Siina. It’d once been a wealthy state where most of the Visatorre population lived some 1,200 years back. Tensions back then had been high, she was taught. Visatorre were seen as part-God, part-monster, these people who could travel, or “jump,” back in time for hours to witness a single moment in history. Stories had been created around them, painting them as the voyeuristic, nosy ghosts that deserved all the pain their jumps caused them.

Her father despised time travellers for their unpredictable powers, but he never brought it up to the public. They were a reminder of a bloody history most Romans wanted to forget, but Lorian hadn’t forgotten. She knew that the queen of Siina had murdered the Roman king due to some type of disagreement, and as punishment, she, her lineage, and all 100,000 Siinans had been brutally slaughtered in an unfair and unjust bloodbath.

Lorian grit her teeth. She hated it. She’d hated it ever since it was taught to her by her scholars and meant to sound like a victory. It wasn’t. It was the royal family’s insatiable bloodlust, and it was all the more reason why she wanted nothing more to do with the crown trying to be placed over her head.

The orchestra music from her own wedding ceremony echoed from outside. Six hundred people had been invited and were likely all dining and eating and placing bets as to whether or not Lorian would come down by midnight.

So it was odd that out of all of these guests and bustling maids and officers in the palace tonight, nobody saw Lorian’s horse, Ether, nibbling on the flowers next to the palace walls. She was bridled and had on her saddle, but it wasn’t the official, royally-sanctioned one with all the gold and rubies stitched into it, it was Lorian’s personal riding one that was worn and made of coarse leather.

And attached to Lorian’s windowsill, weighted down so as not to blow in the summer night air, was a silk bedsheet tied into other bedsheets: a less than perfect escape ladder.

Lorian pressed her lips together. Who’d set this up for her? She’d dreamed of this day for years, and it only became more real that week.

She touched the start of the makeshift ladder. It’d been tied several times behind her window and secured behind the jewelry box. Not even Missus’ Sharma would’ve seen anything awry.

Lorian turned so quickly on her heel, she tripped on the rug given to her by her mother’s mother. She pulled out the drawers of her second wardrobe not currently holding back the only door to the room and packed what she considered to be her real clothes. No dresses, nothing that was too uncomfortable to wear. She did pack her corsets to bind her chest and hide her hips. She didn’t hate her body; her boobs were fun to play with when she was in the bath or getting ready for bed. They just meant too much to her past self, and she didn’t want to remember that.

She would no longer be Lucia Maria Carolus Durante di Romano, future princess to the country of Roma and Aldaí.

She would be Lorian. Lorian…

Something. If she was going to run away, she’d have to change her surname, but she’d only landed on “Lorian” when she was a child, a nonsense name that meshed her name with Carmine’s father’s name. That was back when she respected him.

Despite living here all her life, she had nothing of real importance. Clothing she felt comfortable in, 350 pieces of gold lyria she kept in case she ever decided to really run away, utensils—she ate quite a lot in her room. She grabbed documents with her father’s and Carmine’s signatures in case she needed to forge them for her new life, and she kept her signet ring and skeleton key because she was sentimental like that. She had her dagger because her rapiers would be too long and too distracting on the run. She wouldn’t need a map because she knew the whole layout of the kingdom by heart. As for her underwear…

She looked at the dagger in her hand, then at herself in the mirror. The blond hair she’d tied up in a ponytail to get it out of her face still curled to the middle of her back. She liked her hair; it was a staple for Roman women to keep it long. Her mother’s must’ve been worth something for how beautiful it was, reaching her thighs in elegant waves, and her sister’s must’ve taken hours to prepare every day with all the braids and swoops she kept it in.

Lorian gripped the handle of her blade. She didn’t think it over because she knew she’d regret it. Nobody in the kingdom could know she was Lucia. If she were to live as Lorian, Lucia needed to die.

Her locks fell around her in spirals. Her head instantly felt lighter than it had in years, but she knew it didn’t look right. One part was uneven, the next cut too close to her scalp. She didn’t touch her bangs, as Missus Sharma had just styled them the day before, and when she was done, she didn’t look back in the mirror. She retied it into a small ponytail. Her neck felt cold yet free, another chain broken.

Someone knocked on her door.

She nestled her knife against her thigh.

“Your Highness, are you alright?”

The voice, so sweet and motherly, Lorian knew it better than her own mother’s.

“Yes, Missus Sharma,” she called out, and slowly opened her window all the way. Her curtains fluttered. It kissed her cheeks, her newly uncovered neck.

“I don’t want you to feel alone right now. I know this’s terrifying for you, and unfair. Oh, sweetheart, I know. Can you talk to me? Have you eaten?”

Lorian lifted one leg over the windowsill. She’d once climbed out of this window as a child to the giant clock tower above. When they’d found her, her father had slashed her palms. It seemed so much easier as a thirteen-year-old. “I have, and I’m alright now.” She dared a peek down the four stories and closed her eyes. It wasn’t high up. It wasn’t that high. “I’ll be okay.”

“Do you need anything from me right now?”

She swung the rest of her body out of the window. Vertigo hit her like a crashing wave. She wrapped both arms around the blanket and gave a firm tug. “No. You’ve done enough for me this week, and I do appreciate all that you’ve done.” She put more of her weight on the bedsheet ladder, then more. “G-go tell my mother and father that…I’m contemplating coming down soon.”

“Oh, you are?” Missus Sharma asked. “How wonderful! Let me bring them up.”

“I-I’ll just need a minute,” she called out, hoping her voice wouldn’t travel. “Do give me that, okay, Missus Sharma?”

“Of course, Your Highness. Oh, their Majesties will be so thrilled.”

“I’ll bet,” Lorian muttered under her breath, and looked down. What was four stories, really, other than a two-second drop to your crushing, painful death?

She bit her lower lip, said a prayer to any God that would hear her, and let gravity take her down.

Her boot snagged on a jutting brick and, while it might’ve been a two-second controlled fall, it felt longer. She anticipated hitting the ground but didn’t expect to feel the dizziness that accompanied her once she hit the earth. Her feet gave out from underneath her and she rolled over like a turtle. Ether looked down at her, chuffing.

Lorian stayed on the ground, fingers curling into the cold grass. She counted the eerie seconds of silence. Someone always noticed when she acted out. She’d be caught, subdued, reformed into what her father wanted.

Nobody came. Missus Sharma didn’t run to her bedroom window and call out for her. No patrolling officer asked what she was doing.

She breathed in a gulp of fresh air, then slowly lifted herself up with her horse. She pulled on her reins and waited. She climbed onto Ether’s back and waited.

Nobody was coming.

Nobody knew she was here.

Lucia had been killed, and Lorian had taken her first step.

She blinked back the tears. She didn’t know what had brought them on. Her cutting her hair, her knowing that this one decision might strip her away from everyone she loved for months, years. If this worked, if she really pulled everything off, she might never see them again. Beatrice, Carmine, her mother, Missus Sharma, the maids and officers who treated her far better than she deserved, her father…

She violently turned her head away and broke Ether into a gallop. She tore through the gardens, through the first gate. A lone officer on duty hadn’t been expecting anyone to pass through here and certainly wasn’t prepared to stop a galloping mare running past him. He also probably hadn’t been expecting Lorian to be crying.

She knew she hadn’t. Isn’t this what she’d wanted? To be free from a marriage to a man she’d met three, possibly four times in her life? To be free from her father’s expectations of being a subservient princess and to finally do what she wanted to do?

She ran her horse as fast as she could into the Roman night. Tonight, she was Lorian. And tonight, she was unshackled.

#Transient Time Traveller #art #original character #lgbtq #cottagecore #queer #aida #lorian #original art #oc #novel #writing #ttt #royal road #ao3 #archive of our own

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the-great-middle-earth-read · 3 years

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TTT Book Three: Chapter Seven - Helm’s Deep

Theoden, his warriors of Edoras, and the three hunters arrive at Helm’s Deep and prepare for battle. Soon they are attacked by the forces of Isengard and a great battle breaks out. Gandalf returns at dawn with reinforcements and the forces of Isengard are defeated.

Chapter Notes

Okay, so something I’ve noticed during my read is everyone commenting on how good Legolas’ sight is and obviously when you need a look out, a elf seems the way to go. But, it’s the way people bring it up that’s amusing me. It’s never just, what can you see? It’s as if there has to be an explanation as to why they’re asking him. Now, for the sake of the reader, an explanation the first time makes complete sense but in this chapter we get Gandalf mentioning how Legolas “has the keen eyes of [his] fair kindred”. I wonder if this is Tolkien forgetting he’d already explained about elf eyes, which I doubt (the man was very thorough with his edits), or if he just thinks everyone is so enthusiastic about elf eyes they keep mentioning it. I don’t know where I’m going with this point but it was something that occurred to me.

Just as I mentioned in an earlier chapter, Legolas and Gimli are really starting to appreciate one another and their people. Previously it was Gimli showing appreciation of Legolas and elves and here we see Legolas admit that he is comforted by Gimli’s presence and wishes they had more of his people with them for the battle.

There is far less focus on the battle itself than in the movies. Tolkien has an aversion, it seems, to portraying the details about battle. He really focuses on the moments with characters instead, and I think it’s made very obvious here. We linger on moments with Legolas and Gimli bantering, Aragorn and Eomer chatting, and Theoden’s decision to ride out.

Gandalf’s return really does bring the hope back to the fighters. There’s a major theme running through the Lord of the Rings of despair versus hope and this chapter really highlights it. The fighters refuse to back down despite the overwhelming odds and are rewarded by Gandalf bringing reinforcements that ultimately helps save them. There are several more moments in the series that also showcase this theme and it gets shown in many different ways. I think this is one of the more obvious ways.

#the great middle earth read #lord of the rings #the two towers #legolas #gimli

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edyacouky · 5 years

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Journey to the Past (2/10)

Hi! Here the next chapter.

I can’t guarantee that the other chapters will be publish with the same rate.

Hope you will like this chapter too.

Don’t hesitate tell me what you think ＾ω＾

Can be read on AO3

Can be read on Tumblr Prev - Next

~*~

For Just Jay, there is a before and an after he meets Princess Al Ghul.

Before, there is only darkness, emptiness.

He wakes up on a mattress on the ground, with a tiny blanket on his body. The air is so heavy and so wet that he feel too hot with the dark green tunic he’s wearing. His head hurts, all his body hurts to be honest. He wanted to sit but he feel too dizzy.

He don’t know why but he feel the need to put his hand on his chest and panic because of the lack of something. He didn’t know what, but the fact that it wasn’t there terrified him more than the pain and the unknown room. When finally his fingers touch a necklace, only then he start to breathe again.

He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t understand his reaction. He can’t even tell what the pendant is, because his vision is too blurring.

But with it around his neck and the pendant on his fist, he feels safe.

With the days, his body feels better and many people, servant they said, ask him question he doesn’t know the answer.

What’s your name?

Where did you come from?

Do you know who and where your family is?

Do you know where you are?

One time when one of the servant try to force him give a name, he yells:

“Jay!

-Jay what?

-Don’t know. Just Jay.”

This simple exchange provoke him terrible headaches and disorientation. He takes him several days to calm down.

He never see this servant again.

Mostly this part of his life was lonely. After this incident, the servants spoke to him one or two words and leave the room. They lock the door, they said it was for his security –he was easily disoriented-, and the time they knew if he is an ally or not, so Jay never knew anything behind the door.

Until she appears.

It must have been six months he was isolated, when a beautiful woman wearing expensive and gorgeous dress and jewelries enters in his room to sit on the bed.

Jay was so subjugated that he didn’t even try to stand up.

“Do you know who I am and where you are? She asks him gently

-No. The servants never answer my questions and I don’t recognize you or this place. He answer her honestly

-I am Princess Talia Al Ghul. She does a pause but Jay doesn’t react. And you are on our Azraq Palace at 'Eth Alth'eban.”

Jay shrugs before blushing. It’s not like that he should answer to a member of a Royal family. But he is too subjugated by his visitor and the information she gives him. Jay doesn’t understand what 'Eth Alth'eban is exactly, but he feels an unexplained fear.

“Sorry. None of that seems familiar to me.

-That’s ok. She answer caressing tenderly his hair. I understand that you have no memory of your previous life, and considering where we find you it is for the better.

-Where … where did you find me? He dares to ask

-I saw you immerse for a stack of dead bodies throw on a pit, next to a village close to the West frontier.

-But … Is there another survivor? Maybe member of my family…

-There is no hope you still have a family.”

By these direct words, Jay's eyes filled with tears. He tried to hold them back. After all, he had no memory of this village, these people, and his family. What could he be so crying so painfully?

Is that really possible mourning someone you don’t know?

“What … Why did this happen?”

Talia takes Jay’s pendant in her hand.

“Because you’re Jewish. The habitants of this village were all Jewish.

-I … I don’t understand …

-We, the Al Ghul family, are Muslimism, which displease a Jewish faction that want take our throne. Because of them, a civil war against Muslimism and Jewish takes place in 'Eth Alth'eban.

-Will you kill me then?

-I’m not like my father. I don’t believe this is simply Jewish against Muslimism. This is my family against our enemy. If you agree to become an ally, I will let you live to serve me.”

Jay thinks about that. He didn’t miss the fact she didn’t propose him to simply leave this place.

“Where can I go anyway? He though out loud. It will be my pleasure to serve you.

-Good. I will make sure the servants brings you to your new room, gives you a bath and new clothes. Of course, you will have to hide that you’re Jewish. Talia said, her hold on David Star becomes more urging

-I will hide it.” Jay promise unable to let his necklace go

That’s just piece of metal, it’s not more important that his survival. If the Princess wants destroy it or kill him, the choice to do is obvious. But Jay can’t accept that.

He has to take care of that. He doesn’t know why, just that he have to.

“You want to keep it. Why?”

She makes him pass a test, without a doubt.

“I’ll serve you loyalty. He guarantees. It’s just … that the last thing that connect me to my family.

-Did you remember this people?

-No. Jay admits. But it will make me remember that they die, that I should have die with them, if it wasn’t because of your generosity and I should be eternally grateful for that.

-I knew you’re smart. Talia smile after a long pause where she pointy watch his facial expression. I know how to hide it. Let me do.”

Talia stand up, Jay immediately imitate her. She leaves the room without a word, without the pendant. Curiously, Jay doesn’t know what to do. The room were locked again. Maybe he didn’t answer her correctly.

He fears about what will happen to him. He is embarrassing how hard he jumps when the door is open again.

Talia comes back with a pocket and sit on the bed again.

“My mother teach me how to weave a bracelet.” She explains beginning to work

Quietly, Jay sit next to her and after she said she doesn’t need his help, he just look at her movement fingers.

“Now, give your necklace.”

Jay obeys and Talia resume her work. Second by second, the David Star disappears between green and gold strings.

“Your wrist now.”

Talia finish the bracelet by attached it around Jay’s wrist.

“I use some colored piano string. She finally said. You should lost it and then your secret is safe.

-Thank you so much.

-Now it’s time for a bath and new clothes.”

She opens the door and the servants take Jay with him.

After his meeting with her, he becomes someone, a loyal servant, a warrior who will not hesitate die for his Mistress. He gain a purpose.

He never really understands how lucky he gets. Not only the Princess saves him despite being an anonymous and a Jewish, but he also lives a comfortable life in the Azraq Palace.

~*~

Once Jay was clean and dressed, the Princess introduces him a little seven years old boy with an irritated frown.

“This Damian Al Ghul, not only my son but the heir of our family. Till this day, you will train to become his Shadow, his protector and his teacher.

-Everything to please you, my Princess. Jay swears

-Tt! He’s look incompetent.” The little Prince grunts

Jay doesn’t remember if he was good with the kids in his village, but he is sure that this one will complicated him his life.

For three years, Jay keeps his words. He takes every training she wanted him to do seriously

It turns out he has already some notion in fighting. When he reports it to Talia, hoping, she will see a sign that she was right to trust him, her reaction chills his blood.

“You must have been some kind of child-soldier for one of this extremist.”

Instead of seeing he is already able to protect her child, she sees a potential threat.

After, he never dares tell her anymore how his lessons were going on, unless she explicitly asks him.

He compensates by taking really seriously his mission to take care of the Prince, and teaches him as many things he knows. His apparent important heteroclite general culture and his mastery of different languages are really useful.

Someday when he can’t keep sleep, he thinks that maybe his knowledge and his survival are the proofs it is his destiny take care of the young Prince.

With only that to believe, he even never asks why she always makes him stay to the Azraq Palace and not make him follow her everywhere she goes, at least to the Akhdar Palace where the royal family is supposed to live. He never asks why Talia’s son, heir of 'Eth Alth'eban, Damian Al Ghul lives mostly alone in the isolated Azraq Palace.

~*~

This Wednesday is the tenth birthday of Damian. Jay is eighteen years old for four month. The first hours happen like every day.

Jay wake up at four a.m. he start his day by running for one hour, after that he takes a bath using the essential oil that Princess Talia keeps offer him.

He loves taking a long hot bath, he always feel well rested, empty of all his worries and it’s helping him with his chronical headache.

When he is dressed, he goes to the kitchen. He eats something and he takes the Prince Damian’s breakfast that he brings to his room. He puts the meal tray on the nightstand, then he opens the curtains to let the sun enters.

“It was time. Damian grumbles. It’s been an hour that I’m awake.

-For the last time, my Prince. No one stop you to open yourself your curtain and asks to the kitchen to bring your meal earlier. Jay said putting the meal tray on Prince’s lap

-Ttt! So I should do your job? Damian argues before hiss when Jay prevent him to eat

-What do we say?

-Are you kidding? When will you finally treat me like your superior and not like a child?

-Either when you will be taller than me, or when you won’t be a ten year old brat anymore. Happy birthday by the way.”

The Prince tries to hide it but he happily grins when he saw that Jay remember which day it is.

“Now, what do we say if we want to eat?

-Don’t upset the Prince who could easily order your execution?

-Wrong answer. One try left.

-Thank you, Jay.”

Damian tries long ago to not obey to Jay, but not only the servant have his mother’s favor, he is also pretty stubborn and he is not impressed by Damian’s tittle. It must be for that his mother decides make Jay is shadow.

“You’re welcome.”

And that Damian will never admit it out loud but, Jay is also a good man who helps him feel less lonely and happier.

Jay gives him then a gift wrapped in newspaper with a piece of string.

“Sorry for the gift wrap. I did with what I had.

-It’s as much as expected from you.”

Damian opens it and found an illustrated book about dogs.

“Until you have one.

-Thanks.”

Jay found quickly Damian’s love for animals and he tried to convince Talia to let him have a pet, but until now she always refuses. He hope his simple gift will help Damian feel a little less disappointed by the perspective of a new year without have a dog.

When the Prince has finished eating, Jay helps him to get dressed so he can start his lessons.

On the morning, it’s training to become a feared warrior. Damian must be unbeatable. Wednesday, his teachers teach him how to manipulate firearm.

At midday, the Princess and the Prince eat together with people loyal to Talia. This day it is also the Prince Birthday’s meal where every guests have to prove their loyalty through the present they give to him.

All the gifts Damian received are expensive, decorated by gold and gems, weapons.

No children’s books or pets like the little Prince dreams in secret. But he is a perfect heir and politely thanks everyone.

On the afternoon, Damian’s lessons are to perfect his knowledge. History, Language, Physic, Biology, Music etc. Damian must know everything. Since he is not only educated, but also a really smart genius boy, Damian is a brilliant student who could become a brilliant King.

During each minute of this day, Jay follows the Prince, well like his Shadow.

The dinner is the only meal that is intimate. Only the family.

Jay waits behind the door they finish so he can put Damian in his room, before he can eat.

He is used to it by now and it doesn’t bother him anymore to stand up without nothing to do. The Al Ghul are pretty quiet kind of people, beside the clashing of the fork and knife and whisper, there is silent.

For this reason, Jay notices immediately when something was abnormal.

~*~

Talia looks at his son. She remembers when he was still a happy baby, how he laughs at the most incongruous things. Of course, she was already know that he will not stay that way, she can let him be so frivolous. He will not survive his family by being one joyful optimistic. It’s really break her heart to have to break his.

Especially when she saw him pout with sad eyes while he treats his vegetables like they’re some disgusting enemies.

If only they have could be just the two of them. Or maybe …

No. She makes her choices years ago and she have no time or interest in regret.

“How were you lessons today?

-Instructive. My teachers all say that I progress easily and they soon will have nothing to learn me.”

His lessons are never enjoyable. They are never something he will gladly rant about.

Talia despair the lack of communication between her son and her, but she knows a King shouldn’t be talkative.

“As I expected from you.”

Sometimes, Damian wants to ask at his mother if she is proud of him, even a little. But when he was a foolish five years old kid, he did asks her that, she simply answers:

“You shouldn’t ask directly something you deeply want the answer. Now that I know what you want I can easily manipulate you. Do you want your enemies manipulate you like a puppet before they kill you?”

So he never asks her anything else after that.

Talia is talking about which lessons Damian will have in the next months when a breeze stops her.

All the windows is supposed to be locked.

A quickly glance at the room, allow her to find which one has been open and to see the barrel of a gun aims at her son.

Without a hesitation, she throw one of the knives in the opening and place herself in front of her child. She successes plant it on the killer’s shoulder who painfully moans.

“Mother?

-We have to leave. She orders as the same time Jay enters the room

-My Princess, is everything alright?”

They don’t need to answer him, the discover assassin leave his now useless hideout and aims visibly at the Royal Family. Without thinking, Jay takes his own gun and shot him in the head.

“Are you both alright?

-We’re uninjured. Damian answers sharply like he always do to hide his trouble

-We have to leave. Talia orders. This place is not sure anymore.”

At first, Jay thinks she exaggerate, it was only one assassin after all. But progressively the screaming and the sound of a massacre become louder and louder.

“Now.” She yells when neither of the boys moves

They run between the hallway and the bodies, killing everyone who tries to stop them. Jay doesn’t recognize the crest their attackers wear. It looks too similar to the one Talia’s subjects wear so they don’t come from another country, maybe a faction of the government against the Al Ghul.

Jay tries really hard to remember all the crest Talia makes him learn but the screaming, the blood’s scent, seeing the body of all this people he is used to see every day and the running provoke a violent headache. He can’t focus anymore, his body move on his own, knowing that his purpose is to protect Talia and Damian even if it means dying.

Jay and Damian follow Talia who seems to know where they should go. She leads them to an abandoned aisle that served to isolate a concubine denied.

They enter into a room where Talia open a secret door.

Jay’s headache hurt him so much that he can’t see anything for a moment.

“Not time for this! Damian yells at him taking his hand

-I know.” Jay answer

Which when you know enough Damian means:

“Are you alright?

-I’m fine.”

Talia takes Jay’s face on her hands and looks worried at him.

“Your headache.

-I will be able to hold them long enough for you both to escape. He assures

-No. You and Damian will escape. I stay.

-Mother!

-My mission is to protect you.

-This men obey to my father. Talia reveals. They will kill you, but they will spare me.

-I’m not sure about that.

-I don’t care about what you think. You have a debt to pay so you will obey me.

-I will, my Princess. Jay promises despite not believing what she say make sense

-I want you to bring Damian to his father. He will protect him.

-My father is alive? Damian said astonished

-His name is Bruce Wayne, King of Gotham. Talia keeps saying without looking at her son her focus only on Jay. You will bring him to him when I make sure my father follows wrong trail.

-Understood.”

Finally, Talia looks at her son.

“You will be brave and make me proud.

-Of course.”

Surprising both of the boys, Talia hugs her son kissing his forehead.

“We will see again.” Damian promises before take the secret passage

While they walk carefully on the dark path, Jay hear the Prince cries. But he says nothing, if he does, then Damian will stop, and the kid deserve to appease his heart.

~*~

Jay is surprised when no one is followed them in the tunnel. He decide to take that like a sign that Princess Talia is safe and sound and makes regret this fool to attack her home.

When they immerge, the moon is full on the sky illuminating their path.

“My Prince, you spend more time than I in the Palace surrounding area. Do you know where you are?

-It’s depend. Damian mumbles trying to find familiarity in scenery. If there is a gravestone this way then I will know.”

They walk for a couple minutes before they found it. A little garden was make around it where a bench permit anyone to sit in front of it. On it, Jay read: “Athanasia Al Ghul” with the same date for her birth and her death. The same date that Damian’s birthday.

“My twin sister.”

It’s the only explanation that Damian gives before telling they were in the North West.

Why an unborn Princess has her gravestone in such an isolated place and why did Jay never hear of her before if she was so important make Jay curious. But now, it’s not the time to question Damian about her.

“Good. We’re closer to the frontier than I was hoping. Come, we have to find a shelter and different clothes.

-Mother say we must go to Gotham. Damian retort

-And how are we supposed to do that without food or money for the travel? And our clothes make spot us easily. We have to solve this first.

-Good luck with that. The purpose of the Azraq Palace was to punish by isolation the person send to it. There is no village near it.

-There must have at least the village where the Princess found me.

-And where did she find you exactly?

-I never ask. Jay admits suddenly angry with himself. We have to walk anyway. Come.”

They walk for a week without found any shelter. They drink in the river, eat so berries. They are tired and Jay, when his headache let him thinks, worries that Damian will be sick sleeping outside each night. The only good point is that they clothes are so dirt that they are less recognizable.

“I don’t understand why you want go this way! Damian grumbles. You make us move away for the main road where we could easily find merchant or a vehicle.

-And it will be easier for the King to find us.” Jay answer but the true is he just feel they have to go this way

But if he starts to say to Damian he should obey at what Jay’s instinct tells him, the Prince will definitely stop listen to him.

“But why Grandfather did that? Mother and I are loyal to our family, to our country.

-I don’t understand either. Maybe there is a conspiracy to force the King and the Princess to fight each other. This way they will be weaker in front of another enemy.

-We should have stay with Mother, then. And help them to fight against this enemy.

-You’re too just ten, my Prince. Every people who seems loyal to you, they are because it’s a way to prove their loyalty to your Mother and Grandfather. But if the Princess is right, you could find a real ally in your father.

-If it was true she will not have tell me he was dead. Damian complains

-My Prince, I’m sure she did that to protect you. The King Wayne is Jewish. With the actual conflict, it could make an easy target for both sides.

-Maybe Grandfather attacks us for that. Maybe he learned who my Father is.

-Maybe. Jay admits

-Does that make me Jewish?

-Depends of the way of thinking. Some people think a child can be Jewish only by their mother, some that the father’s belief should count. In Gotham, I think that they adhere to the first idea.

-Should I be Jewish?

-Why? Jay asks confused. You never seem to have doubt in your Muslim faith.

-I have no doubt in my faith. But if I want my Father to help me, should I be Jewish?

-Don’t think it will be necessary. His heir, Prince Richard, isn’t Jewish after all.”

All this conversation offers to Damian many things to think about. So he stays silent, for less than half hour before he whines again about their situation.

They keep walking like that, Jay trusting his gut and Damian complaining with every step he makes, for at least three more days. When suddenly Damian disappears in the ground.

“Prince!” Jay yells terrified

He follows where Damian fell to discover there was a little downhill dirt road become slippery by the rain.

“Prince are you alright?

-Yeah I’m fine! Damian exclaims with mud covering him from head to toe. And I just found a shelter.”

Effectively, hidden behind the vegetation there is a cottage as modest as you can expect the rich people who order its construction to be. This building is more simple than the palace but still pretty impressive despite being abandoned.

“Yes, you did, My Prince. Congratulations.” Jay say happily to him

Despite being more than glad they found a hideout that can protect them for the weather, with maybe warm clothes and some canned food, Jay can’t help himself but feel like he know this place, like it was what he was looking for. But that can’t be. Before living in the Palace, he was living in a humble village far away from here.

“Maybe God has pity of them.” He forces himself to believe touching his bracelet before they go inside

~*~

They enter in a bathroom by a broken window. With little hope, Jay turns the faucet but no water fall.

“It will have be too good. Jay sighs. At least there are some towels. Stay here and start to clean yourself. I will find some clothes.

-I can come with you.

-No. Stay here. And if you heard any suspicious sound you leave. Understood?

-Understood.” Damian growls taking the towel Jay gives him

Carefully, Jay leaves the bathroom to explore the next room. Like he supposed, it’s a bedroom. A kid bedroom it seems with different toys laying around. Fortunately, there is still clothes on the closet and they are Damian’s size. Nothing big enough for him, he has to search on another room.

“Takes this. He orders to Damian. I will go back searching something for me. You stay here.”

And without letting Damian contradicted him, Jay leaves him again to find the parental bedroom.

When he’s in here there still has some clothes that were belonging to the father, he supposes. Quickly, he comes back to the bathroom where Damian is cleaner and change.

“Did you see the kitchen? Damian asks while Jay use another towel to remove some dirt on his face and hand

-Not yet. But the people who lived here seems have abandon this place in a hurry. I’m sure we will find something to eat before sleep one hour or two.

-We shouldn’t stop here more than necessary. Damian contradict

-Sleeping is a necessity. How can we run or fight efficacy if we are too tired.

-Ttt!

-Really my Prince I don’t understand how you can be against a bed. It’s may be the last we will find before we arrives to Gotham.”

Once Damian agree to Jay’s logic and that they both dressed, they go search for the kitchen, ready to use their weapon if needed.

“Over there. Jay said when Damian was going on an opposite direction that Jay indicates

-I think that it’s this way.

-Well you’re wrong.

-How do you know?

-That’s more logical.” Jay answers even if, again, he just listens to his instinct

While they walk on a hallway, something catches Jay’s attention on a room to his right. From the corner of his eyes, he sees the frame of a painting.

“That’s the King Wayne. He said without a doubt. Do you want to see it?

-How did you know?” Damian asks again more and more confused by Jay’s comportment

Effectively, the painting was covered by an opaque black sheet.

“I know.”

But if he is sure about what is paint, he doesn’t know what happen to him. But he have to see this painting closely. Despite the pain of his headache, he hears it calls him.

He enters in the room, followed by Damian. He has his hand on the sheet ready to remove it when a voice surprising him.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?”

An arrow was aimed in their direction.

Jay immediately put himself in front of Damian, forgetting the sheet that fall and the King’s painting that is revealed.

#dc comics #fanfic #anastasia au #jayroy #jason todd #talia al ghul #Damian Wayne #ra's al ghul #roy harper #lian harper #colin wilkes

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kemlyn · 2 years

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i've never known anybody who didn't like seven husbands of evelyn hugo so i'm going to have to ask why not lol

i'm not deep diving this because i read the book once, over a year ago, and found a lot of it to be entirely forgettable. this answer is what i can remember of my thoughts immediately after finishing...

on the f/f side of things: i guess it starts off okay? but the early chapters pretty much say the whole point of evelyn hiring monique (i had to google that name to remember it. such a flat character) is to tell the untold story of evelyn and celia, and then evelyn proceeds to spend 300 pages framing that story around the husbands the world already knew she married? the whole thing could have been summed up in a simple sentence of 'those men were all irrelevant beards and business arrangements' and then i could have had 300 pages of just celia. i don't understand why it wasn't 300 pages of just celia

to make i worse, i then have read about monique's own husband drama. shoot me. i didn't know who she was. i knew even less about who he was. i couldn't have cared less. i only forced myself to read those pages because i knew they would somehow tie into the totally foreseeable twists and reveals of the ending. so not even the ~surprises~ were a worthwhile pay off for having to suffer yet another man plot. that she didn't fuck him at any point was the only true surprise of this book because god knows it loved making me endure het sex

what little of evelyn and celia was told didn't make up for shit either. they were miserable and separated more than they were happy and together. that's pretty much all i can remember my take away of them being. that, and neither of them were even likeable

no character in this book is likeable. they're all awful or just plain boring. and i don't mean awful but in the still compelling way, i mean horrible people written too boring to want to think of them as anything but horrible people

and then to top it all off... there's nothing remotely original about the plot. if TJR denies having an open copy of diane setterfield's 'the thirteenth tale' on her lap while she was writing, i'll call her a liar. at the very least she watched the bbc adaptation of that book the night before she started her outline. DS did the whole ‘super famous woman hires seemingly random woman to write her sordid life story before she dies’ thing so much better. the year of TTT is deliberately vague, but when vida winter is telling her story, it reads like a real victorian flashback. when evelyn does it, it just felt like present day evelyn talking, like how your nan sits in her chair telling old stories. except evelyn doesn’t call someone by six wrong names before she gets the right one. at no point did i feel like i was transported back to old hollywood

#idk #maybe the adaptation will change a lot of the things i didn't like about the book?#but i won't be rushing to find out

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angel-gidget · 7 years

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Stars Unearth Your Fires (ch1/?)

Title: Stars Unearth Your Fires (Ch 1/?)

Fandom: DCU, Teen Titans, Red Robin (preboot)

Rating: PG | Words: 1400 approx | a03 link

Summary: Tim Drake never thought of himself as a troublemaker as far as Robins go. But a passing accusation quickly escalates into a case of stolen memories, technologically backwards clues from his past self, interdimensional hijinks, reflections on the good old days, and possibly the rekindling of a foregone romance. Eventually Tim/??? Mystery ship!

A/N: I have a horrible history with chapter fics, yet here I am. With a chapter fic. I have something resembling a plan and sense of direction for this story, however, and you can expect lots of nasty angsty preboot/nu52 issues to be worked out through the course of this story. Enjoy. :)

Thanks to @kiragecko for the beta! You rock!

Their general proportions were human. But of course, keepers and traverses of the universe were anything but.

Tim had mentally labeled them as The Gatekeepers, since they were both cryptic and rather obsessed with telling the Justice League and the Titans to physically stay in their own lane—or in this case—their own universe.

Apparently, that was about to become more difficult than usual? Due to some cosmic aligning of the stars? Again, cryptic, so getting details out them was like trying to strain yogurt through Kevlar weave. Joy.

The interdimensional douches were telling the heroes not to worry because this was a temporary, passing thing. They didn’t need to be alarmed. They were not supposed to remember the moments when realities collided. They might be bombarded with tiny insignificant flashes while the celestial paths crossed. Insignificant memories from the last time something similar had happened.

But then their buggy eyes caught on Tim, and he felt Dick’s hand on his shoulder tighten. There was no reason for Red Robin to be singled out among the other heroes. At least, no good reason that came to mind.

But their too-low-pitched-to-be-human voices were still doing that placating gentle thing. Which had the exact opposite of its clearly intended effect. They told him he might remember more than most.

“Oookay. Why?”

“The other heroes fulfilled their duty to the letter. They fully engaged in combat despite the respect they garnered for their opponents. They did not have sentimental memories afterwards to cling to. They did not try to bridge the worlds afterwards. We must warn you not to try again, Robin.”

He nearly corrected them to make it ‘Red Robin,’ but the ghoulish mystery people didn’t seem like they would care much. From what he’d gathered, the last time this cosmic alignment (or collision?) had happened, he had been Robin. And the current Robin was in Gotham, too busy violently cracking skulls in absentia to take offense.

“I… I have no intention of randomly trying to jailbreak into a separate universe.”

Even without human emotions, there was something really skeptical about the silent look they gave him as they turned away.

He shrugged off Dick’s hand and ignored the concerned stares from his teammates. If there was reason to be concerned, it was not because of him. Tim knew better than to do something stupid, no matter what those Gatekeepers thought.

—

He was four days into what was supposed to be a four-week event. (That all the major hero teams of their Earth were supposed to know about, but ignore? Again, non-human logic . Fun.)

There was a tiny voice of self-disappointment that he hadn’t accessed the Crays sooner, but Oracle still hadn’t won out against Bruce for making them remote accessible, and as much as it pained him to disappoint Alfred, he and the homunculus were still better apart than together. And really, Tim had his own apartment now and it was cool. A little empty, maybe, but it still had a popcorn machine, so score.

So he had been avoiding the mansion. (Avoid was a strong word, but okay, it worked.) So it had taken him an extra bit of time to be the detective everybody else couldn’t be bothered to be, and check the logs for that stretch of time in which all of the heroes of Earth ostensibly battled an entire universe of other heroes for cosmic survival.

Now that he was actually looking… the records DID look fake. That week from years ago was filled with forgettable patrols and skirmishes–Condiment King? Really?–that could have seriously been any night. It was the logs of the days after that were… actually weird.

Twenty seven unsuccessful attempts to log in and re-write the log history of the week before. On the twenty eighth try, his fourteen year old self had apparently gotten to the typing entry stage but just… left it blank. Left it blank and saved file.

“Cucumber sandwiches, Master Timothy?”

He flinched. Alfred… he had missed Alfred, and he appreciated that the man was trying to make things easier by pretending that he had visited more than he had.

“I… yeah. Thanks, Al.”

They were crisp, and cool, and heavier on the mayo than anything Alfred would make for other members of the family.

He was not going to cry over a sandwich. He wasn’t.

But he would get over his avoidance (and okay, maybe it was an accurate word as much as it was a strong one), and give Alfred the grateful smile he deserved.

He avoided talking by stuffing his face. And wow. He had been using a combination of power bars, caffeine, and sleep deprivation to keep his brain open enough to function, but he was embarrassed to realize that he had underestimated a full stomach’s ability to do have the same effect.

He felt his own pupils dilate when he noticed.

The entry only appeared blank.

It was a series of space bars and tabs. His own code from back when he thought it would be cool to have a code totally to himself. He had thought about sharing it with others. He had almost shown it to Dick about five times and shown it to Cass once, though she didn’t fully understand it. That was when he had decided to abandon it. (He thought he should probably bring it back and show it to Bart. Bart was old enough now that he’d love it.)

But to the message: I-s-o-l-a-t-e-d-e-v-i-c-e-s

Isolated devices. That was… cautious. Like when he wrote it, he worried he’d have someone looking over his shoulder. And… that was fair. Hadn’t he just thought about showing the code to someone else? But had he shown it to Dick, Dick would still understand the implications of old tech and privacy.

Isolated Devices. Devices separate from the Crays and from Oracle’s database. Devices that could be synched to either, but might also theoretically contain details on them—or personal reminders—totally separate from the mainframes.

And not susceptible to the same memory wipes.

They didn’t use them anymore, not really. The wrist computers, the chunky tablets. They were secure, yes, but they were borderline analogue, and Oracle eventually shamed the family into giving them up in favor of just fortifying Wayne Tech and Cray firewalls.

Tim felt his adrenaline spike. He had left a reminder for himself on isolated devices from when he was Robin. He had gone to a whole hell of a lot of trouble for a reminder of something he couldn’t remember at all.

He belatedly swallowed the last bite of cucumber and bread. There weren’t that many isolated devices left, much less ones he carried as Robin.

Thankfully, he was already at the manor.

“Okay, woah! No! Damian, knives down! Tim! Tim, STOP. I will bring Bruce and Alfred in here if you do not stop now."

Threatening to bring in Alfred was a low blow, and Dick knew it. The Bruce threat was clearly for Damian’s benefit, and the little snot-stain at least had the wherewithal to look somewhat contrite about it. Tim was too riled to care.

“He messed with my tech. That I needed for EVIDENCE, Dick."

“Ttt. Highly unlikely, as I unearthed your archaic toy a year ago, Drake.”

Liar. Tim wanted to scream.

Damian could break bones and do standard hacking, but he was not observant enough to surpass Dick, Bruce, and Alfred (who must have dusted that same spot every day) and simply find the catch in Tim’s custom window frame.

More likely, he had cheated and recruited the damn dog.

“It’s a resurrected case. I needed my personal notes. Notes that were lost the moment you hooked up my mini to the Crays to spy on me.“

He waited for Dick to point out that there should be backups. That Tim’s notes should have been preserved by Cray security. That would have then prompted Tim to point out how very wrong it was that the backups didn’t happen. That something was very wrong with the mainframe files from that entire week.

But Dick sighed instead, and Tim could see him mentally listing through ways to convince Tim to placate Damian.

Screw. That.

He grabbed his (stupid, unnecessary) overnight bag on the way out.

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thesparklingletters-blog · 7 years

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Hello everyone! ♥

It’s been a while since the last time I did a Top Ten Tuesday but this week topic just basically called to me! It’s Ten Books I Loved Less/More Than I Thought I Would. I’ve read 21 books this year but only two of them are 5 stars. This month I haven’t even rated a book 5 stars</3

Being let down so often inspired me to make a list of books I loved less than I hoped I would. It was a coincidence that this week topic is similar. True story, I swear! :P But BEWARE, I’ll be dragging a lot of people’s favorites. It’s okay for you to be upset with my choice, it’s okay if you disagree and want to discuss it, but there’s no need to be angry or fight over favorite books, alright? ;) Anyway, it’s definitely more than 10. Here you go!

(PS. all the title links will take you to my goodreads review while the full review links will take you to my blog review)

Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys

I’ve seen nothing but praise for this book so without a doubt, I bought it the first time I saw it in the bookstore. I was prepared to cry and be amazed but it turned out to be just an okay read for me! I hate one of the protagonist and his chapters were pointless. Though to be fair, it’s partly my fault because me + historical fiction = not best friends 😂 Full review.

Gemina by Amie Kaufman & Jay Kristoff

Now before you yell at me, let me start by saying I did not dislike this book! I’m only slightly disappointed! It was 4-stars so I still enjoyed it so much. Buuuut compared to Illuminae, this one fell short for me. I feel like I didn’t connect with the characters as well as I did in the first book. Not to mention that this one was so much more confusing, but less scary :P Full review.

What I Thought Was True by Huntley Fitzpatrick

I adored My Life Next Door so much because adorable romance + juicy family drama are my jam. I was so excited to read another book by Huntley Fitzpatrick but boy, I disliked this one so much </3 there’s this witholding of important information that irritated me so much. It took a long time for me to finish it.

The Winner’s Kiss by Marie Rutkoski

Again, I didn’t dislike it. It just didn’t live up to my expectation. I loved The Winner’s Crime a lot it broke my heart to pieces, so obviously I expected the final book to blow me away. It didn’t. This was too technical, too much descriptions of war strategy and the mythology. And due to Kestrel’s condition, I felt like we were back to zero.

The Girl from Everywhere by Heidi Helig

The premise of this series sounds so promising. I mean, time travel, ship, maps, diverse characters, what’s not to love? Unfortunately, the execution was too all over the place. The main character lacks of personality, there was unnecessary love triangle with a boring 2nd love interest, and info dumping :( the good news is, the second book was better. It comes out in February 28. Full review.

The Bone Season by Samantha Shannon

Oh God, the disappointment of the year. I know a lot of you love this series, that’s why I picked it up in the first place. Sadly, I hated it. I tried, I’m sorry. I disliked Paige, I hate the romance, I didn’t understand the world building & all the fancy terms, and the only thing I liked was the Seven Seals. Safe to say I wouldn’t read the sequels. Full review.

The Sun is Also A Star by Nicola Yoon

I wasn’t so surprised to know I disliked this book. I’ve seen negative reviews from bloggers I trust and insta love is a red flag for me. But since a lot of people praised this book, I had a little hope that maaaaybe I’d love it. Well, I didn’t. I didn’t like the insta love, it was so unrealistic even if it didn’t feel like an insta love :( Full review.

By Your Side by Kasie West

No one feels more sad than I do to see this book on a disappointment list. I’m a die hard fan of Kasie West. I’ve read and loved all her books, except this one. The premise says locked in a library. I was so excited and Kasie’s writing gets better each book, so naturally I had high hopes for this one. It’s the worst of all her books. The characters have boring to basically no personality and the romance was cold. I really wish her next book will be better.

Holding Up the Universe by Jennifer Niven

It’s basically the same case as Gemina and The Winner’s Kiss. I still liked it but less than I hoped I would. I enjoyed All the Bright Places so much and this one fell flat compared to it. It’s less emotional and honestly, kind of boring. Sorry! But I’ll still read anything Jennifer Niven writes ♥ Full review.

Vassa in the Night by Sarah Porter

Remember when I said The Bone Season was the disappointment of the year a few paragraphs ago? Well, I lied. This one is. It’s my first 1-star rating in a long time. I had high hopes for this book because Russian fairy tale? Count me in. Sadly there was so many plot holes, but not enough Russian vibes. There’s basically no world building and the plot was just as vague. I wanted to DNF it so much, and I wish I had. Full review.

Amy & Roger’s Epic Detour by Morgan Matson

Now I feel a bit scared for putting this book on my list because every single person I know who reads this book, loves it. I had no idea why. It was boring and there was no chemistry between Amy and Roger. And to be honest, I didn’t connect with Amy at all. No, I disliked her. I… you know, I’ll just move on to next book before you all get mad at me :P

The Star-Touched Queen by Roshani Chokshi

I was so intrigued by this book because the premise + cover = to die for, not to mention a lot of bloggers seemed to love it. However, I feel like this book was a ball of beautiful prose with no actual plot nor character development. I’m sorry but Maya was such a weak protagonist. The romance between her and Amar was also so insta-lovey, even if I knew they go way back. I’m still gonna read A Crown of Wished though, because I’m sure Gauri would be a more interesting main character. Full review.

Well, I feel like this list has turned into a rant and my tone is getting more and more bitter. Not my intention, but kind of inevitable when talking about books I dislike :P to brighten up the mood, here are some books that I love MORE than I expected! It’s my good surprise list ♥

The Crown’s Game • I’ll Meet You There • Six of Crows • Illuminae

Alright everyone, those are 12 books I loved LESS than I hoped I would (plus 4 books I loved more than I expected). Do you see any of your favorites on the list? Or do you not like them as well? What books do you love less than you expected? Don’t forget to link me to your TTT so I could check it out! ♥

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My List of Disappointment : Books I Love LESS Than I Hoped I Would Hello everyone! ♥ It's been a while since the last time I did a Top Ten Tuesday…

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