#CAN CAPITALISM PLEASE FALL FASTER? THANKS IN ADVANCE

[viorhysealberia]

I do understand what necessity therapy can have for people and ultimately it may be something I need in the long run, but there really is something deeply, deeply fucked up about the fact that I can know exactly why im not doing good and the response is that I can’t just actually fix the problem and should instead just go to therapy. cover up those boo boos :) because if you try actually solving the problem then the Government Overlords will think you’re useless and should die :)))

#somari (un)funny moments. (tbd) #I’m not even asking not to work!! just wanna focus on something that won’t make me Safe Money for a while!! #but NOOOOOO because not working a 40 hour job means no health insurance and no health insurance means Die A Thousand Deaths Forever :) #‘get therapy!! that’s what you need :)’ no you fucking dipshit what I NEED is to quit my JOB and do what I WANT to fucking do with my life #CAN CAPITALISM PLEASE FALL FASTER? THANKS IN ADVANCE

[four-loose-screws]

FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 12, Section 1

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

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I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

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Chapter 12: The Wyvern Rider's Wrath

Eirika’s army had just descended the mountain, and was continuing to march towards Jehanna. They were now about to enter Hamill Canyon.

At that moment, a messenger riding a pegasus rushed up to them. It was the same soldier that had come all the way to Port Kiris to inform them of Innes’ dire situation. 

She said that she had returned immediately to Frelia, then followed after them to deliver a message directly from there. After she expressed how happy she was to see that Innes was safe, she told them the information she’d come with from the capital.

According to her report, the Frelian Army was currently advancing into Carcino, and clashing with a mercenary army led by Pablo. The Frelian Army had gained the cooperation of Carcino’s elder Klimt, and their chances of winning were increasing at a favorable rate, while Pablo’s army was retreating south.

“South?" Eirika asked. "Then that would lead them into...”

“Jehanna, yes?” Innes pointed out. 

The messenger nodded. “Yes. Jehanna has already been attacked by the Grado Army, and the battle is becoming increasingly harsh. We believe that Pablo’s army is most likely going to rendezvous with the Grado Army.”

“How is the situation of the battle in Jehanna?”

“Not good, it seems.” The soldier’s expression darkened. “They seem to be holding out, but they cannot compare to the might of Grado. It is only a matter of time before the castle falls.”

“I see... I’ve heard that Queen Ismaire is a tough and courageous ruler, but this situation is probably rough even on her. And her son’s disappearance must still be painful for her, even now.”

“What do you mean?” Eirika did not know much about Jehanna’s affairs. 

When she looked up at Innes, he whispered to her, “Ever since Queen Ismaire’s husband passed away, there has not been even a single rumor about her remarrying. She devoted both her mind and body to ruling the country. She does have one son. Or perhaps I should say… she had one son.”

“And he… disappeared?”

“That is what I have heard. He went missing when he was still just a kid, and still hasn’t returned to his home country.”

“Was he kidnapped…?”

“No, he ran away of his own accord. I do not know the exact reason, but from what I understand, he grew tired of life at the palace, and fled on a whim. It is unlikely that a prince that did not know anything of the world would still be alive today.”

Innes seemed to be in a bad mood. Though Jehanna and Frelia had completely different climates, the intense pressure placed upon those born into the royal family was exactly the same. From Innes perspective, as one who held himself to strict standards and had always strived to become a man fit to be the next king, he probably couldn’t forgive this prince of Jehanna, who’d abandoned his mother and run away.

Eirika looked back at the messenger and asked, “Do you have any news of how my brother is fairing?”

“Yes. His army’s march has been progressing smoothly. He conquered Fort Rigwald, Grado’s most strategic location, and is currently moving towards the capital.”

“He’s marching towards the capital!? What is he acting so recklessly for…?" Innes said in complete shock and put a hand on his forehead. “To get carried away and march on the capital just because he’s won smaller skirmishes is the pinnacle of foolishness. The units he fought on the border won’t compare to the army guarding the capital. What could he possibly be thinking…?”

“This is Brother we are talking about. He must have a chance at victory.”

“There’s no way that he could possibly have a…” Innes cut his words short and looked at Eirika. He tilted his head, puzzled, and asked, “You’re not worried?”

“No. I trust him.” She knew how Innes was, and thought he would say something sarcastic, but he did not respond.

To say that she wasn’t worried at all was a lie. Innes was right. It was far too reckless to attack the capital. Even Ephraim’s chances of victory couldn’t be high. But Eirika said to herself, ‘Ephraim cannot lose.’ 

If he’d decided that he was going to attack the capital, then he must have made that choice not because of a rash choice with a small chance of victory, but because he was calm and confident in the tide of the war. Right now, all she could do was believe in his strength and superior luck.

Eirika walked away from Innes and towards the recuperation tent. 

Her army would rest here for a bit, then make a straight shot for Jehanna. She wanted to help the Jehanna Army before the castle fell.

L’Arachel walked up to her. “Are we already going to start moving again?”

“Yes we are, as soon as our preparations are complete. We will defeat the Grado Army and save Jehanna. The battle is going to become very harsh, so L’Arachel, you should go somewhere sa…”

“Eirika.” L’Arachel said in an uncharacteristically serious voice, then looked straight into her eyes.

Eirika was taken aback by seeing her like this for the first time. “What’s wrong…?”

"It is very likely that Grado's target is Jehanna's Sacred Stone. We must protect it, no matter the cost. I am going with you. I cannot retreat to the back."

“L’arachel…” Eirika responded to L'arachel's unexpected words by staring straight back at her.

She knew from Natasha's testimony that the Grado Empire's goal was to destroy the Sacred Stones. However, only a small group of people, including Seth and Innes, knew that. Because it was such important information, she hadn't even talked about it to her allies. It was strange for a new recruit like L'Arachel, who'd only just joined them at the fort in the mountains, to know something like this.

“Why do you know something like that? Just who are you…?”

“Oh dear…” L’Arachel realized what had slipped from her mouth, looked away, and tried to dodge the question. “It is… a rumor. A rumor the wind whispered to me.”

“A rumor like that is spreading around? Who could have...?”

“Oh, I don’t remember. I may not look it, but I am surprisingly well-informed. Dozla and I have happened to hear all kinds of rumors while on our journey, you see."

She was talking strangely faster than usual, making her seem all the more suspicious. Eirika wanted to ask her for more details, but L’Arachel forcefully changed the subject. 

“Now that you’ve mentioned rumors, that reminds me, I heard something very important. The knights of Rausten are coming this way to provide reinforcements for Jehanna. If they arrive in time, it will only be a matter of time before we claim victory.”

“L’Arachel, just who are you…?”

What she said next was even more strange. Rausten’s movements were not something a mere traveler should know. If the knights were going to deploy, that was valuable, classified information shared directly from the royal family. Eirika couldn’t imagine that information like that would be a rumor L’Arachel caught in the wind.

Eirika did not know L'Arachel's past. If she had to say something, it would be that L’Arachel seemed to be of a wealthy station, based on her mannerisms. Beyond that, she knew that L’Arachel was very devoted to her religious beliefs. Seth had previously predicted that they would cross paths with the Grado Army in this canyon, because word had probably already reached them that Eirika’s army was nearing the area, so this would be the best place for them to wait.

The pegasus knight Eirika’s army sent out on reconnaissance returned and gave her report. Just as they’d expected, there was an enemy unit stationed in the canyon, lying in wait for Eirika’s army.

If they continued directly inside the canyon, it would be difficult to retreat. They had also thought completely about the danger that they might become surrounded. However, even though they were well aware of that fact, they couldn’t afford to hesitate. Jehanna might fall if they did.

“L’Arachel, is what you said earlier true?” Eirika halted the entire army on the outskirts of the canyon, and turned around towards L’Arachel.

L’Arachel was riding her horse. She seemed to be used to horseback riding, and at her current abilities, she was probably slightly more skilled at it than Eirika. “What exactly are you referring to?”

“That the Holy Knights of Rausten are coming this way… If that is true, then that will put this battle to our advantage. But if that information happens to be false, then it would be very dangerous to continue on our current path into the canyon...”

“Don’t worry. I assure you that the source of that information is very accurate. The knights are most certainly headed this way. If we can hold out until then, victory will be ours.”

“...I understand.” Eirika decided to believe L’Arachel’s words. L’Arachel’s true identity was still a mystery, but she couldn’t imagine L’Arachel was the kind of person to joke around about such weighty information.

Regardless, if they continued to waffle around where they were, they would only give the enemy more time to prepare. The fate of Jehanna was at stake. They had no choice but to believe that Rausten’s knights would arrive, and press onwards.

Eirika’s army carefully marched closer to the canyon. Tall reddish-brown cliffs towered over them on either side, severely limiting their field of vision. They continued onwards for a long time without once sensing the enemy’s presence.

“In what area is the Grado Army stationed?” Eirika asked the reconnaissance pegasus knight.

“We will reach it shortly. When our field of vision opens up just ahead, the first unit should be stationed there, but… I will confirm that information one more time.”

The pegasus knight did not appear to be uncertain, but made her pegasus spread her wings all the same. The pegasus took off faster than Eirika could tell her to be careful.

However, the moment the pegasus flew above the cliff, her body shook violently. A large arrow had shot her wing. Her pained neighing echoed through the sky as she suddenly started to fall.

She flapped her wings with all her might, and although she managed to stop herself from falling straight down, she still somersaulted across the ground upon landing. Natasha rushed over to help the soldier that had hit the ground with the pegasus.

Eirika panicked and looked down at her.

"I am very sorry. I let my guard down. The enemy…" The knight’s face was twisted in pain.  Eirika tried to cut in and say something, but she continued, “...appears to have set up a ballista. It would be dangerous for the pegasus knight unit to carelessly approach it. For them to have gone through the trouble of setting up a ballista, they must have thoroughly prepared for battle."

“Understood. Please take the time needed to get proper treatment for your wound." Eirika’s mood took a dark turn.

Ballista did not target only pegasus knights. They were a long-range weapon that could attack from angles no one would think of. Their accuracy was considered slightly worse than that of standard bows, but that didn’t mean Eirika’s army could rush straight towards one.

“Lady Eirika, there’s an enemy coming from behind you…!” The knight cried out.

Eirika immediately looked up.

Just then, a soldier rushed up to her from the rear line. He was not an enemy soldier, but one of their own. All of the color had drained from his face. “My report, Your Highness! The enemy soldiers have appeared from behind us! They appear to be a mercenary army led by Pablo. At this rate, we’re going to be surrounded!”

“How many are there?”

“We can only confirm two lines, but there is a possibility that reinforcements are following in from behind them!”

Eirika shuddered, realizing that… for Grado to send such a large force this way, it might be because they’d already attacked and conquered Jehanna.

However, she had no time to think. She immediately decided to order her entire army to keep marching straight ahead.

“Ahead? Not behind?” Innes asked in surprise. “The enemy in front of us is strong. They even set up a ballista, correct? For now, the army behind us only seems to be made up of two small units. Wouldn’t retreating for the moment and defeating the small army, then the larger one, keep our casualties to a minimum?”

“...No.” Eirika shook her head.

She couldn’t confirm why, but she had a feeling that going backwards would be dangerous. At a glance, the rear army looked small, but she saw through them. That was their plan. If her army carelessly retreated, they might fall into a trap. 

“We will march forward. We have nothing to fear. We have defeated many enemies to come this far. We will not retreat, even from Grado’s large army.”

“...Of course." Innes smiled. “Warrior blood runs thick in Renais’ royal family. I shall trust in your decision.”

“...Huh?” Thinking that he was being sarcastic about her orders, Eirika’s face turned red.

But then, Tana came up to her and quickly whispered, “He’s complimenting you.”

Innes walked away from Eirika and slung his quiver on his back. His beloved silver bow glittered in the sunlight. 

He seemed to believe in her orders, and intended to follow her everywhere.

Eirika looked around at all of her soldiers, then called out to them, “I’ve received word that the knights of Rausten are coming this way. They are known for their great strength, making them a very reliable army. If we hold out until they arrive, then victory will be ours!”

 The soldiers all cheered. Murmurs of the word “Rausten” spread like a wave throughout the crowd.

It might be a bluff, as she hadn’t received a proper report, but only heard information full of more questions than answers from L’Arachel. However, it had a huge effect on her army. The dispirited soldiers regained their courage, and livened up.

When they advanced, they drew in attacks from the ballistae. The several soldiers who fell were all swiftly healed by Natasha and Moulder, as well as L’Arachel.

Suddenly, their field of vision opened.The cliff dropped off, and they could now see out very far in front of them.

Eirika gasped. Her soldiers instantly went from being in high spirits to completely silent.

Just as the reconnaissance knight had said, a unit of the Grado Army was waiting there for them, consisting of heavily armored knights wielding lances. They could even see knights sitting upon armored horses. It was a bigger army than they’d ever faced before.

“Aias, huh…?”

Eirika turned her head towards the sound of the whisper she'd heard.

It was Joshua.

With his eyes fixated on the enemy army, he continued on, talking mostly to himself, “I’d recognize that formation anywhere. He looks as impressive as ever.”

“Joshua, do you know something about them?”

“We were once in the same mercenary army long ago." Joshua finally looked at Eirika. He looked as interested in battle as he always did, but the light in his eyes was uncharacteristically sharp. “One of the members of the Grado Army is General Caellach. He is a very powerful mercenary and a troublesome man. And Aias favors him. He was a strange man, who liked to read books of strategy rather than brandish his own sword, which is very unusual for a mercenary. If I remember correctly, he was always drawing out plans and studying battle formations… he was mocked by his allies that considered it pointless for lowly people like mercenaries to do all of that no matter how much thought they put into it, but because of Caellach’s rise through the Grado Army, the day came when Aias’ research finally paid off.”

“...What are his weaknesses?”

“He has none.” Joshua replied in an instant. “Your current leadership abilities are nothing compared to his. You can strategize all you want, but it won’t make a difference. In fact, it would have the opposite effect of helping.”

Eirika’s lips were shut tight. She looked at the enemy’s meticulous formation.

His words might have been harsh, but everything Joshua pointed out was right. Though she had considerable experience at this point, as a commander, she was still half-baked.

Joshua looked at her and continued, “Press forward. That will be enough. Do not retreat, no matter the circumstances. Waiting around and relying on reinforcements to show up is the worst thing you could do. We have no choice but to crush them at full strength.”

“...Understood. Let’s go.” Eirika raised her sword into the air, and ordered her entire army to move out.

#fire emblem #fe #sacred stones #fe8 #gba #game boy advance #ninendo #eirika #japan #japanese #translation #novel #light novel #fe8 novelization translation

[human-trash-fire]

We should have taken a cab.. (ToG)

Inspiration: “Amen” by Amber Run. 

I’m so fucking sorry y’all..  AU. One-shot? idk. It’s my first run at writing angst/ dark shit (in preparation for the fic I’m currently working on STTH). I’m sorry in advance for any mistakes, and I love you all <3

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We were standing beneath a million twinkling lights, they were winding down every branch, and twig in the entire tree. We were surrounded by man made magic, white and blue bursts of heaven sprouting from every corner. The botanical gardens at Yulemas time was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. My head was rocked back staring in wonder, drinking it in. His arm was wrapped around my waist, holding me close. He was warm, always so warm, I called him my own personal heater. I leaned into him, and the scent of apple-cider and cinnamon danced across my face when he spoke.

“Aelin,” his voice was low.

“Mmm?”

“Baby…” I turned to look up at him, and my breath caught. His warm brown eyes were twinkling in the lights, and he had roses in his cheeks from the winter chill. His smile was breathtaking as he turned me to fully face him, his hands sliding down my arms to grasp mine.

“The first time I realized I loved you was on that school trip to the orchestra in the 5th grade, do you remember? They started playing Bach’s suite No. 3 and I remember looking at you and you were leaning almost entirely out of your seat, tears streaming down your face.” I felt tears well up in my eyes as he spoke.

“I had never seen something so beautiful, and I spent the entire rest of the show just watching you listen. I knew then that you were it for me, even if you couldn’t stand me back then.” I huffed something between a laugh and a sob.

“It’s been 15 years since that moment, and not a day has gone by that I haven’t thanked the Gods for bringing you into my life. I find that with each passing day, I somehow manage to love you even more.” I was truly crying now, as he pulled away from me and reached into his coat pocket. I couldn’t decide where to look, at the small velvet box he was pulling out or at his face so full of love. He smiled at me when I caught his eyes, and bent to one knee.

“I promise to do everything in my power to make the next 15 years, the next 100 years, everything you’ve ever dreamed. To hold your hand while you cry for the beauty of music, to back you up when you decide to pick a fight. I promise to smile every time you cook something horrible, and always remember to bring you flowers and chocolate pastry on sunday mornings. I promise to do my best to make you the happiest woman in the world, if you will only do me the honor of making me the happiest man. Aelin, baby, will you marry me?”

I was crying so hard and my hands were shaking against my mouth. I reached out to touch his cheek, and he leaned in to me, eyes pinned to mine. “Yes, yes Sam Cortland. Yes!” He slid the ring onto my finger, a beautiful cushion cut diamond in a bed of white gold, as people around us began to cheer. I kissed him beneath the twinkling lights, his arms wrapped around my waist. He spun us in circles as I laughed and cried all over him. I was a mess, the happiest mess in the entire world. 

I reluctantly pulled back and looked down to see that I had cried all over his new coat. “I’m getting your coat all ruined! I’m so sor-”

“You have nothing to apologize for my love, ever.”

And so we walked hand in hand through the remainder of the gardens, admiring each other more than the lights. I was lost entirely in the wonder of Sam Cortland, my best friend. My Fiance. My whole world. Eventually we made our way through the gates and back onto the streets of the city. Our apartment was 30 blocks from the gardens, and Sam asked if I wanted a cab. I told him no, I wanted to drink in the city in winter. I loved all the beautiful lights and garlands hanging from every shop window. Snow covered the ground and turned the usually bustling capital into something from a Yulemas storybook.

We had been walking for a while, slowly making our way home, stopping to kiss each other every few feet. Sam was a drug I never wanted to quit. I danced in front of him, bringing him to a stop and reached up to grab his face for yet another taste of his lips on mine. That’s when his eyes went wide and his whole body stilled. “Sam?” I asked, my voice came out smaller than I had intended. He was looking just behind me, his face was hard. I opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong and that’s when I heard the gun cock behind my head. I froze, Sam’s arms instinctively wrapping tighter around me. 

“Turn around princess, slowly. Arms up. Try anything and I’ll blow your fucking head off.” The man’s voice was gravel and glass. I raised my arms up as slowly as I could manage while shaking. I turned to face him, moving like I was stuck in jello. I raised my eyes to his. He had a ski mask over his face, but his eyes were hard and grey. The gun he held was firmly pointed between my eyes.

“Step away from him. Slowly- that’s it. Give me your fucking wallets, now. Slowly- don’t try anything stupid.”

“Alright sir, calm down.” Sam pleaded. “You can have whatever you want, anything at all. Just don’t hurt her.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He screamed. “WALLETS. NOW.” We fumbled in our pockets pulling out the wallets and tossing them at his feet. They tell you to toss them away from your attacker, but with the gun at my head I couldn’t think straight. 

“Earrings too. Hand them to me, like a good girl.” I removed the diamond studs from my ears, my mothers earrings, and reached over to hand them to him. That’s when he saw the ring. “The ring. Take it off. NOW.” 

“Please,” I whispered. Sam had spent months saving for this, I knew he had. I didn’t want to let him take it, not after all of this. He had taken everything else. He turned the gun on Sam.

“GIVE ME THE FUCKING RING, OR I WILL END HIM. YOUR CHOICE.”

“Give it to him baby, shhh, it’s okay. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t mean anything.” Sam spoke softly next to me. I looked over at him, and he glanced at me. His arms were still lifted in front of him, placating the masked man. I nodded, tears blurring my vision and started to pull off the ring. But it stuck, I kept pulling, my breath coming in faster pants.

“NOW BITCH! TAKE IT OFF!”

“I’m TRYING!” I sobbed. “I-it’s s-stuck, I’m trying! I’m-” I never finished my sentence. 

Time is funny, you know? 5 minutes ago I had the rest of my life ahead of me. Now time had stopped entirely. I heard the shot while still fumbling over my ring. My head snapped to Sam and I watched him fall. It was like slow motion. His tall, muscular form crumpled to the ground. 

I screamed. Diving onto my knees to grab Sam’s face. There was a perfect red circle in his forehead and blood was pooling behind him, turning the snow into crimson sludge. I vaguely registered the masked man running from us.

“Baby, baby no, baby please-” I lifted his face to my chest. His blood was pouring through my fingers as I rocked him on the sidewalk. My throat was raw. I was screaming for help. Screaming for Sam to wake up. Screaming until no sound came out and the tears froze on my cheeks.

He was cold, so cold, I held him tighter to my chest. I could be his heater. 

His cheeks were pale, his beautiful brown eyes weren’t sparkling.

The light from the ambulances and police cars were twinkling in the snow. He smelled like apple-cider and copper.

Someone was pulling me off of him. I tried to hang on but they made me let go. His new coat was so messy. I was freezing. I was numb. I was nothing at all. 

Large tan hands held mine, I was staring at my ring stuck halfway up my finger. The beautiful diamond stained red. We should have taken a cab.

“Miss. Look at me,” A deep accented voice spoke above me. I slowly started to look up but my eyes caught just behind the man’s shoulder. They were covering Sam with a blanket. At least he wouldn’t be cold.

“Look at me love. Eyes here. Look into my eyes.” I dragged my eyes from Sam to the man in front of me. His eyes were green, rich Terrassen green. Sam’s eyes were brown. I didn’t want to look into these eyes. 

“Shhhh,” the man whispered. “Deep breaths now love. Slowly.” I tried, but I couldn’t fill the hole in my chest. I started to panic. I couldn’t breath. I couldn-

“Shh, love. With me okay. In- that’s it, good, now- out. Good.” 

Black spots danced in my eyes, I hoped I was dying too. Then I’d be with Sam. The man was still holding my hands, talking to me in a slow, soothing voice. I hated it. 

“We should have taken a cab,” I whispered. And then all I knew was sweet darkness...

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#Fucking sad shit #aelin galythinius #sam cortland #rowan whitethorn #tog fic #ao3 fic #oneshot #modern au

[gloomy-goober]

Chapter Warnings: Drowning, talk of eggs in corpses, talk of dying, self deprecation

**

The smell of salt and the crash of waves hit Roman as he stepped out into the cool night of the imagination. The usual kingdom and rolling hills that he usually was greeted with had been changed. No longer did the prince look out upon his city capital where skyscrapers and flying cars merged with horses and fairies.

The door shut behind him and he turned to stare at it. It was a dark, unfinished wood. Despite the aging the metal hinges seemed to be well kept. The door was at the base of a tall dark tower that was attached to a smaller, but still intimidating castle. All a black stone that seemed to glow in the light of the full moon.

Remus’ castle. Remus’ Duchy.

The Imagination had not felt the need to shift over to where Roman rightfully belonged when he entered. This was alarming.

Contemplation was no longer needed as he moved forward. The weed covered stone of the courtyard were crunched under his quick strides. The gates opened with a low and ominous whine that would have scared anyone unfamiliar with Remus’ more spooky melodrama.

To Roman, the sound was just a reminder that his brother’s domain was at least functioning as it should still.

“Remus!?!” He called out above the sound of the waves as he started down the gravel path. They were all that answered as he moved down to the water.

“Remus, where are you!?!”

Glowing red eyes glanced out from the shadows and Roman moved a little faster. His palm sweated against the morning star’s handle. Whatever stared out at him would not be any help in the location of Remus.

“Remus!” The sound of waves got closer and with it came the worrisome idea that the crashing would drown out his calls. How would Remus be able to hear him over all this noise?

How did he even know he was going in the right direction?

Roman grounded his teeth together as the path dipped down onto the sandy shore of the beach. At this moment he loathed his brother’s artistic choice to have a beach front, rural society instead of a metropolis to govern. At least there would be a helpful construct to assist him. Not a wild beast that was made to attack any and all moving creatures.

“Duke Stinky-Butt! Show your face or so help me if I find you dead, I will bring you back and kill you myself!”

The morning star landed on the soft sand with a dull thus as he looked around. The beach alone seemed to stretch for miles. The moonlight only did so much to help him see the dark world that his brother’s mind had conjured.

“Remus please,” he would never admit that it was a quiet plea to the air. For someone to listen and help him.  

He grabbed the morning star’s handle and started to drag it along the beach. An outline started to form as he walked slowly up the landscape. He stayed away from the dark waves for now. Every crash onto the shore seemed to be the ocean reaching out a claw to take him. Take him down into who knows where.

It was ominous.

He called Remus’ names a few times. Loud over the waves and echoing off the nearby cliffs. There was never the response he wanted.

No nickname.

No feeble cough.

No sudden appearance behind his back.

No tackle.

Nothing but surf and sea salt.

“Why couldn’t this be simple? Like break your arm falling from a tree.”

“Don’ think anything about this sit’u’ation is simple, sonny.”

The grizzled voice made Princey jump out of his musings and move quickly to stand guard. The morning star was left on the ground in favor for the side to pull out his sword. At the end of the point stood an old man, skin turned practically to leather by the ocean, and lips wrapped around an old pipe.

How cheesy could his twin be?

“Who are you? State your purpose,” Roman demanded.

“Could ask ye the same, boy,” the man bit back, “This is my beach to look ‘fter for His Royal Highness.”

He used the pipe to point back in the direction that Roman had come, most likely at the distant silhouette of the tower.  Roman glanced in the direction for only a second before his eyes returned to the older gentleman in front of him. His sword did not waver. The dull ache in his chest pushed him forward.

“I see,” Roman said the words slowly, “Then you should have no reason to object in telling me the location of the Duke.”

The man’s pipe returned to his mouth and some smoke rings slowly came up and floated into the air.

“I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’. Ye could be some kind of killer types.”

Roman slowly let the sword point lower but he kept his grip tight. Nothing could be trusted to be as it seemed in Remus’ Duchy.

“I can assure you, I am the last person to ever wish ill will onto him,” He gave a small bow, “I am Prince Roman, and I have reason to believe that my brother, the Duke, is in grave danger. I would much appreciate your assistance in pointing me to his last location.”

He tried to watch the construct’s expression, but it seemed impossible. The tough weathered skin was folded into many lines. The darkness of the night kept him in shadows. And the eyes. Roman could not find a twinkle in them, or an indication that there even were any in the sockets.

That would explain why he had saw a large centipede move over the man’s nose and then disappear.

The prince had to push down a terrified shiver at the thought. He did not need to once again be disgusted at his brother’s creations when this old sailor was tame. That and Remus always did have trouble drawing eyes, would make sense that he would just omit them from creations all together.

Unless they were unattached.

Roman’s spiraling thoughts were broken as the old man slowly opened his mouth to speak. The pipe somehow stayed balanced on his bottom lip.

“My apologies, yer highness, I did not recognize ya’.”

“It is quite alright. Now my brother?”

“Yes,” The man seemed to think for a second, “Well, ter be honest, he was right there where you were standin’ earlier today.”

Roman looked down and then around at the beach. A lighthouse was on top of a high cliff face that ended the stretch of sand abruptly. The structure itself cast an earie green glow over the ocean and every so often it flicked. He had to guess that is where the old man had come from.

“He was?”

The man nodded and blew a few rings before he spoke again.

“Yep. Said he was on his way to his ‘secret project’ on the cliffs,” he used the pipe to point, “Real excited. Good to see young men happy ‘bout somethin’.”

“When was this?”

“’bout sunset, I’d say.”

Sunset. Roman put a hand to his chest. The sun had only fully hidden away behind the tree’s minutes before the first wave of pain. He was close.

“Thank you,” Roman breathed the words, “Thank you so much.”

He pushed the sword back into his sheath and started to move towards the cliffs in a hurry. Hoping that his brother had not fallen and gotten impaled.

“Be careful, sonny!” The old man shouted after him, “The waters ain’t safe at this hour.”

Roman’s advancement slowed. Confusion and fear clutched at the aching numbness in his chest.

“What do you-?” Roman turned to face the sailor again but his question stopped when he found he was alone on the beach. Alone with just a vague warning and a sinking feeling in his gut.

(Line break Dancing Remus)

Water.

Water everywhere. In his lungs, on his skin, in his underwear.

He would have laughed at the stupid line if he was not so tired. His body felt heavy and weightless at the same time. Like he could sleep for days.

Honestly, Remus was not even sure how he was conscious.

He considered the idea that this was an out of body experience. That this is the slow crawl of death coming to claim him.

He had always said he wanted to greet the Grim Reaper first and express how much he loved the guy’s work. Guess his conscious mind was giving him what he wanted. A chance to meet his hero.

He could have sworn Deceit told him that meeting Hero’s was a bad idea.

Deceit told him a lot of his ideas were bad ideas.

Remus missed him. He missed Virgil too. And Logan. And Patton, kinda. And…and his brother. He hoped Roman was not beating himself up over this. Whatever this was, that is.

Something moved out of the corner of his eye, but he could not gain the energy to care or look. Probably a friend of the creature that currently had a tight grasp on his ankle. A grasp had had failed to break out of when he was closer to the surface. It was probably just waiting for him to finally succumb to drowning before it began to consume his fresh corpse.

Or lay its eggs into him.

Or both. That would be cool. Would that make him a father?

“Man,” he thought, “I’m not ready for kids.”

His eyes, already blurry from the stinging salt, began to show him darkness. He was not sure if the creature had just pulled him that deep or if this was it. Either way, he did not fight it. The exhaustion pulled at his very soul.

Remus let his eyes close as the last bubble of air left his lips.

#creativity #ts creativity #creativitwins #remus sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #Ocean Man ch 2 #Ocean Man Fic #ts duke #ts princey #thomas sander #ts remus #ts roman #princey #princey sanders #dukey sanders #ts dukey #remus duke sanders #roman prince sanders #prince roman sanders #duke remus sanders #oc #unedited #my writing #creativity twins #creativity sanders

[nevergiveupneverrun]

Bodyguard- Chapter Six “Arouse” Part Two

Hello, I hope you’re all doing great. Here is chapter six of my Story Bodyguard.  I’m sorry in advance for the mistakes… English isn’t my first language and I do my best. Here is the link to the previous chapter: Click Here.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) 💛

- Ok, Amelia, everything’s good, we continue? Carina’s voice before me comes out of my reverie and my internal questions - Yes, I’m fine… - Ok, we already have beautiful shots, but I would like to try something else… your guitar against you.. from the front… we use your hair to cover you… Amelia puts her head back against the wall in front of her, remaining silent for a few moments before we see an « ok » escape from her. She turns directly in front of us and my blood is a trick, my heart pounding as I discover her chest in front of me… completely discovered… But this image only appears for a few moments as she hastens to replace her guitar in front of her and let her hair fall on both sides. - Hold your guitar well… for your hair, it’s good like that. The strap of her guitar covers part of her chest while her hair is placed in front of her and protect her… but my eyes scrutinize that part of her body where only the points of her hair conceal her, and I guess the sensual curve that I had just discovered…

My heartbeat is racing and I recognize the effects that come alive in my body like the bubbling that is born deep within me. A part of my body only needs to react, remembering violently to me, and referring me to my own weaknesses. I breathe as deeply as possible to control these reactions of a man who was clearly forbidden to me… when the person who triggers them is none other than the one I must protect. - Okay, look at me… I try to detach myself from the scene to focus only on the sounds: Carina’s words, the clicks escaping from the camera. I don’t know how much time passes while I kept my eyes down, slightly hidden behind Carina, avoiding Amelia in front of me… until the photographer calls me. - Owen, do you want to get up and put yourself here? I raise my head, surprised that she’s talking to me and she’s asking me something. - Excuse me? She turns to me, pointing to the direction of her hand. - If you could put yourself here, it would give Amelia a benchmark. My legs move without my brain making my move and I find myself standing, at the place indicated by Carina. - Thank you… Amelia: you will place your left hand against the neck of your guitar… and the other on your guitar case without touching the strings, keep a part of your chest just hidden by your hair…however, you don’t fix the objective, but you look at Owen, all right? Amelia nods and her gaze suddenly finds mine. My eyes don’t wander but remain immersed in these two blue eyes that fix me… I detect after a few seconds a spark to dazzle and sparkle, fascinating me literally. - Keep this look, honey, it’s superb … I feel quickly react under the intensity of this look. A heat invades me. But this time it’s not what I guess of her shape that overwhelms me but a piercing look sending me a veil of mystery that I would have liked to surround. A few flashes g off and surround Amelia with a brief intermittent light. I guess a slight smile on her face as she watches me. - Beautiful, Amelia… Carina’s remark echoes in my head… as if reading in my thoughts. My gaze wanders suddenly in the sweeping as a whole in front of me, before finding her face and her eyes that send me an amused glow… as if she saw clearly in my inner struggle and those few seconds of weakness she had just observed. - Ok, I think we have beautiful material.. we can stop! Do you get dressed and look at the rushes together? - It works… Amelia answers by smiling at me and I quickly look down and join my stool a few steps. When I turn around, Amelia has already disappeared behind the screen and Carina connects her camera to her laptop to load the shots. Amelia soon reappears dressed again in the outfit she had on arriving. She goes straight to Carina, concentrated on her laptop. - So what does it give? Hastens to ask Amelia. - Judge for yourself… Amelia is placed in front of her screen and I guess the scrolling shots take place under her eyes. - You are a magician, Carina… - The model has a big role in the success of a photo you know… Amelia just smiles at her remark. - I made color and black and white versions but the black and white really returns something special and I think it will be perfect for your poster… I love this one, you have a look… I don’t know what you thought but this glint in your eyes is really beautiful… - You did an incredible job Carina, thank you… I’m not disappointed with the result. - Thank you for trusting me, I send you the prints as soon as I can and you can make your choice okay? - Okay… Amelia picks up her guitar and walks over to Carina to give her a kiss. - Thank you again, Carina, you do wonder each time. - It’s a pleasure to work with you, you know it. I leave my stool feeling that the moment to take off has arrived. I get closer to the front door, opening it to let out Amelia. She finally joins me while her friend photographer makes me a hand sign.

We find the hallway of the building and quickly enter the elevator. The silence settles in this confined place and our looks are looked for but are avoided quickly as if we were both embarrassed by what had happened during these two hours. The doors of the elevator open in front of us and we leave in a few moments of the building. Amelia holds her guitar in her case in her hand and I guide her, one hand behind her back, to the car waiting for us. - Relieved? I finally ask her while we have several hundred meters to go. - Yes, that went well… I’m not used to doing this kind of shooting. - You could have warned me… - To do what? - If you were uncomfortable, I would have understood: I could have left you and waited at the door. - You didn’t seem really ready to leave your place… and besides, you proved useful… Her first remark leaves me pensive and I take a look in her direction: would she have perceived my disorder? I should not, in any case, let her show that I was weak for a few minutes, to the point of forgetting almost all my duty… I don’t reply as we arrive at the car and let her settle, joining my place. Jackson already has a hand on the wheel, while addressing us. - So this shoot? - It should give something nice, but Owen is a better judge than me as a spectator… Jackson starts and we quickly leave the Capital Hill area towards Amelia’s house. - Owen… so? I didn’t respond to the remark made by Amelia, but Jackson didn’t miss an opportunity to tickle me… he was always as teasing as when we were teammates on missions. He looks at me sideways until I give my opinion… which turned out to be rather complicated. This one question is enough to remind me of the photoshoot: the images scroll in my head… and I try to chase them as soon as possible. - I’m not sure of being a good judge as you say… your fans will do it better than me… - Do you have an opinion O’? I throw a look at Jackson as to make him understand not to insist… - If I wasn’t to my advantage, tell me Owen because I would not like to ridicule myself with this poster. She seemed to doubt… to believe that she didn’t finally suspect how much I had bubbled from the inside. - Completely to your advantage and even more than that… I finish by answering her, ending in a whisper. I meet Amelia’s surprised look through the rearview mirror when the ringing of her phone interrupts our exchange. She takes the call and engages in a conversation that will take place during the ten minutes necessary to reach her home… a call with Richard where she reviewed with him several details about this upcoming concert that seemed so anxious. She ends the call while Jackson parks to let us down. - You remain available if we need you. - No problem O’. See you soon Amelia. - Thank you, Jackson. I quickly get out of the car and guide Amelia back to the house, taking care to go in first as it became customary.

Footsteps quickly down the stairs and I discover April all smiles and visibly delighted to see us again. - Ha, here you are, so this photoshoot? Do you have shots to show me? - No, not yet, Carina must sort and send me the ones she has selected for me to make my choice. - Shame, I would have liked to see that. How did you find Owen? Knowing Carina, she must have wanted to try different poses, one that you liked more than others perhaps? One that pleased me more than another? A glance… Unveiled forms… Curves that I caught myself redrawing… I feel suddenly relive the sensations that struck me earlier in the day… and only one wants to escape. - Owen? - Yes… Amelia did very well… excuse me, I will run a little, I didn’t have time to do my jogging this morning. I disappear as quickly as I can, not giving them time to react, to change me in a hurry. I go down after a few minutes: I hear their voice in the living room but I go straight without stopping. I find the outside air, the feeling of space, and freedom around me. My strides are set up gradually and I run without any specific goal, but allowing the tensions to escape… I run faster than I should… but the need to let off steam is stronger than anything. All these images of this morning parade in my head and I feel nervousness dawn… a nervousness direct towards myself and towards those reactions that I had had the weakness to feel. In front of this woman who has revealed herself, in front of these forms that I have more than guessed, these desires that I have manifested themselves. Just thinking about it makes me react again… I arrive at the edge of the lake and I go down the stairs at full speed. Once I arrived down, I attack the rise of this long series of stairs to exhaust me and block me from all these prohibited reactions. I arrive so at the top of this climb, the breath almost cut, the T-shirt sticking to my chest under the effect of the sweat that appeared during my effort. I don’t stop so long, not giving me time to find normal breathing and I unconsciously resume the path of Amelia’s house. I recognize the surroundings of her house after several minutes and end my stride once at the top of the steps. I stay a few moments behind the door to gradually regain my breath and a “normal” heart rate. My body left forces in this race that I had just imposed... to exhaust myself and stop all those memories that I had to forget.

After a minute, I decided to go back… The silence greets me, I notice the silhouette of April in the living room, a book in hand but I continue my way without lingering. I join the bathroom and take a quick shower to clean the traces of this effort that I had inflected myself as a punishment. A punishment that I conclude with a cold shower to get rid of this experience that should not be repeated. I get out of the shower and surround myself with a towel tied at the waist, another around my neck after drying my hair quickly: I realize then that I didn’t take any spare clothes in my haste; and in any case, I could not put back the clothes I had just left. I sigh in front of my own negligence and go out of the bathroom with the hope of reaching my room as soon as possible. I close the bathroom door, one hand propped against my waist to hold the towel. When I turn around, I discover with surprise Amelia a few meters in front of me, leaving her room the guitar in her hand. She continues to advance after seeing me, but her steps are not so big… less assured. I stay for my part, root to the spot, my hand against the towel wriggling a little more. I watch her progress almost shyly, her eyes avoiding mine… but I notice that her eyes are looking something other than my face as I feel drops of my hair dripping down my chest. She stops suddenly a few steps from me… her gaze seems stuck on a specific part of my body and I quickly understand that she is watching my scars… especially those running along my ribs. My free arm sticks against my side to cover these marks of another life while two blue eyes find my eyes… - Amelia, tell me, can I borrow a dress for tonight? The voice of April rises suddenly. Amelia turns around and discovers her friend, arriving at the top of the stairs and seeing us in the middle of the hallway. - I am disturbing? - No, not at all, I was going to join my composition room and… I perceive April advance in the back of Amelia and discover me a little more in turn. - And you have been glued on discovering what is hidden under these pants. I feel even worse with this piercing look from April. - Muscular just right, where it has to… My free hand place reflexively on my stomach… as if to protect me from indiscreet eyes. - Excuse me, you allow that… - April, come on we’ll go downstairs have tea… Amelia takes her friend by the hand and leads her down the stair again, allowing me to join my room, without having to endure this unpleasant situation for me any longer.

I quickly close the door of my room and let my head fall against… eyes close a few seconds. And the image that greets me is color. This intense and mysterious blue. This glow that radiates a face. And that troubles me already more than it should. Because this trouble just did not reach me. I had to protect myself from the strength of the sparks that hit me today. To become… insensitive.

Untouchable.

Thank you for reading! Please give me your opinion 💛

#omelia #omeliafics #greysanatomy #Owen Hunt #amelia shepherd #owen x amelia #amelia x owen #carina deluca #jackson avery #bodyguard

[ragarza]

The Myth of Startup Investing

Mad Hatter (Johnny Depp) in Alice in Wonderland

The first question I would ask myself if I see a dude who’s 27 years old and not a self made billionaire writing this would be: why in heaven is he talking about startup investing?

But the truth is that the lie they’ve told us is that nobody has a criterion, that only the self made billionaires or “angel investors” know what they’re talking about.

That’s the biggest lie we’ve heard.

At a time when apps and social media take up most of our attention span, and therefore our energy, we fall into the culture of burnout for doing absolutely nothing. Its as if only by virtue of belonging to this generation we are automatically conditioned to become numb and permissive.

How do people get away with madness nowadays? How do people and leadership get away with insults, single-handed authoritarian actions?

Because we don’t care.

Gone are the days when “going with the flow” or “Gone with the Wind” take us to some acceptable and comfortable haven. Going with the flow nowadays is akin to what before would be called the “Wikipedia black hole” that is, the days when we would go through article after article catalyzed by our own thirst for knowledge.

Nowadays, it seems like, we give in to this cascade of pseudo news on Facebook. Nowadays, we don’t have the attention span to read a full article not to mention the energy!

Burnout by Getty Images

Remember those days when people used to read books? I’m already seeing some eye rolling here as the guy writing this article pretends to be an intellectual or “well-read” person but the author, let me tell you, as any other millennial, knows he falls into this rabbit hole too, quite often mind you.

The resistance to technology has always been the same. What will it do to us? Why meet it with fear as opposed to excitement? And the answer to these questions inevitably borders with ambiguity. To what extent should we embrace technology? - Is met by, what technology is beneficial for what and when?

What I’m advocating for here is not for the return to those days when we would play with rocks and kindle fire on a cave to eat some raw meat, YUMMY 😋! No, what I’m advocating for here is awareness.

Yuck, comes that psychological and boring term, that term these “enlightened” scientists and researchers use in their esoteric papers and articles, which we don’t read anymore! Why? Because we don’t respect studied people anymore. Gone are the days when we respect the intellectual authority as knowledge becomes presumably democratized (thanks Google). Nowadays, nobody knows more than the other because knowledge is no longer proprietary or hardly acquired (see Tesla’s patent giveaway).

Bare with me, it seems like I’m trying to get “somewhere”, to a “conclusion” or to some “value judgment of the human condition”.

But that’s not fun, so don’t hold your breath.

The question we face now is, how are humans adapting to these technologies and how are we deciding to evolve with them?

That brings me to the subject matter.

A few years ago, I predicted a bust. A moment when the world realized the ginormous Ponzi Scheme-like Silicon Valley model. Some people call it the “Pump and Dump” model. That is, you start a company, you make it sexy or popular, then you “raise” (ask for) money at a bigger valuation (overpriced estimation of how much your company is worth) and then you sell it to the highest bidder (the dumbest bidder).

Today, the Wall Street Journal published an article claiming that Soft Bank’s Vision Fund, the visionary (mind the pun) Masayoshi Son’s venture capital fund, is running out of cash. Meaning, this fund, which asks investors for their money to allegedly invest it into the “next big thing” is almost done spreading the money (or the powder as those private equity guys like to call it). The model works only if there’s a higher bidder when they sell their stake (or equity) in these companies. Because let’s be real, these companies (like Uber) don’t plan to make any money any time soon, insofar they continue to raise money from “investors” (I put it in quotations as almost anybody hearing the word investor presumes they are smart. I’ve got news for you, you’ve got $5 dollars in your bank? You can be an investor! See Stash).

“Wall Street Executive Accused of Scheming to Defraud Investors of $95M” (from ABCNews)

But what happens “after the music stops”? As Alan Blinder titles his book on the 2008 crisis. Well, investors will want their money back! But these funds would have to sell their stakes. If there’s a flash sale (end of season sale), suddenly there will be a lot of merchandise out there! Prices fall. What then, what then will these little investors do?

Panic.

And we go on and on and on about these assumptions about the future as if I am some sort of visionary (like Masayoshi 🤣) and knew what the hell I’m talking about.

No, what’s actually happening, in my opinion, is that with the advent of digital globalization, we all know more, we all have access to more, we can all invest in more (see crowdfunding) and therefore we are all the same! But there’s another kick to it: barriers to entry fall (like those Harvard Business School people like to talk 🤓, I went to the University of Illinois in Urbana, I couldn’t tell between a kernel of corn and a book).

Therefore, the biggest myth they told us about startup investing, is that we’ll find the next monopoly (like Facebook, Google, Tinder 😏), myth because, without anymore barriers to entry, there cannot by any more Googles!!

In light of wanting to please and end this article with some sort of conciliatory, heartwarming and cohesive conclusion I will say what follows:

We cannot judge the future by the past because that only makes sense when things don’t change. The truth is that the future will and continue to look much different than the past at a much faster pace. See Andrew McAfee’s Second Machine Age as a framework of how the economy as we know it is inevitably changing, also see Aeon Flux, if anything you’ll get to see Charlize Theron at her best 😍. Gone will be the times when we go to our 9-5pm job, mow our lawn and kiss our wives (or husbands) goodbye. In comes the time when our own sense of validity in the economy will be put into the question as working, in many ways, becomes irrelevant.

Barney’s Beach Party from Barney Wiki

So what do I advocate for? I advocate for people traveling, having fun, meeting other people and drinking coffee by the sea. I advocate for people to embrace the waves of the second machine age, to advance their inner most desires to the benefit of humankind. I advocate for awareness in what we do and why we do it. Because frankly speaking, falling on the victim mentality because we can’t stay away from our phones is just our excuse to shy away from this Brave New World (see Aldous Huxley).

Let’s stop idolizing these investors, billionaires, technologists and instead, start utilizing what they have created to expand our minds in ways previously unimaginable 😲...

#notreally #comeon #whynot #money #technology #theworldisending

[amollion]

Newcomers Pt 19

“What do you mean they have stopped?” Deeter asked after hearing the latest update from their commander Hopoln.

“It seems the Human advance on all fronts has ground to a halt, we are not sure why” Hopoln said rather annoyed that he had to be the one to tell them as it was demanded of him but it took his attention away from other matters.

“Then now is the time to attack and drive them from our world once and for all!” Seewol shouted getting to his feet.

“Forgive me High Chiefs but attack with what?”

The chiefs looked down at him confused as if he had asked what colour the sky was.

“With our armies what else?”

“Our most experienced warriors were lost when Geeda fell, I have had to evacuate all the surrounding towns and those in the path of their advance and call for the militia. Potellan, our capital is the most heavily defended city on the planet and WHEN the Humans come here I will have a better chance of defeating them. Out in the open? No, they are too manoeuvrable especially now with the Gal at their side. But behind our walls that dwarf those of Geeda? Yes, I believe I can halt them here, like water against a rock they will crash against our walls and break”

“Is this the voice of cowardice I hear? Rather to fight behind a wall where you are safer than fight in the field” Peepel said grinning and the guard moved a step closer to Hopoln.

“You are confusing cowardice with caution and strategy, but as is your right and if you truly believe me a coward. Kill me and take command yourself and lead the army from our walls and face the Humans in open battle, I am sure the warriors would take heart from seeing their High Chiefs set and example of such courage”

The other two Chiefs looked at Peepel who looked around and remained silent for a time before finally finding his voice. “You are the commander of the army, and we trust your decision and counsel”

“Thank you High Chiefs for the honour you bestow upon me” Hopoln said bowing.

“What of the news of a disease running through the Human camps?” asked Deeter.

“Rumour, speculation and hear say, we have no evidence of this and what news we have is contradictory. It is not a reliable source of information to act upon”

“Very well” he replied not to convinced though.

“What is the status of Karamora's activation?” Seewol asked.

“Slow, it has slumbered for so long and it's awakening is proving difficult, but it is awakening but we should not put our hopes on such a god. I still believe I can defeat the Humans without it”

“You fear Karamora will accomplish what you can not?”

“I fear what Karamora is, as any rational Benamarian should”

“Enough!” Deeter shouted “The god of war has not yet awakened, Hopoln still has time to appease it, now go and continue your work”

Potellan was a grand city and the largest on Bento Prime, the jewel of the Benemar it's buildings were artistically constructed even if many had fallen into disrepair, the streets were intricately woven together so that no road ever ended but connected to another. This meant if one was not familiar with the city it was easy to get lost. The High Chiefs palace was a massive pyramid that towered over the other buildings, it also doubled as the Alliance's embassy and offices on the planet. They had fled the moment the Humans arrived giving promises of reinforcements but he held no hope that they would ever arrive. Hopoln knew that it was likely that other Human fleets were entering Alliance space, they had not taken kindly to the betrayal the Alliance and the Elong had done to them. Hopoln had voiced his objection to invading the Humans home world, especially since they only had the knowledge of it's location for a week before the invasion fleet left. For his unpatriotic speech he was demoted but subsequently reinstated when the invasion went sour. He had no love for the Humans but he did respect them, in war they knew what they were doing and how to use an enemies advantage against them. He had studied the fall of Geeda for countless hours, the satellite images and recordings smuggled out and the com recordings of the conversations. The Humans had expertly brought a great city down in a few hours but it must have been in the works long before they made planet fall. In some ways they were doing the same to Potellan. The city was flooded with those fleeing the war and seeking safe haven which will stretch the city's resources. He watched them from the High Chiefs pyramid, a long column stretching to the horizon, farmers, scavengers, merchants, breeders, elderly and many more from all walks of life but none of what he wanted. Warriors. He had put any who could carry a rifle into service and was still in the middle of training them.

It was slow as they had never fired a rifle before and Benemar rifles are bulky and have a huge kick to them when fired, some were knocked over when shooting their rifle for the first time. But, they were still there to defend their homes and one man defending his home is stronger than ten invaders. Besides, he had the walls too, these were not like the walls of Geeda, these were three times higher and twice as thick. They had cannons mounted on them that were usually mounted on starships and with this arsenal and a desperate army he was confident he could break the Humans here. But the worst part of it all, he had to wait for the enemy to come to him. They had the initiative and could depict the flow and pace of this war, that was an advantage he needed to take away.

Oolana sat on a bench staring into space, she had not eaten in nearly two days as what little she could carry when fleeing home had either been stolen by others or she had had to eat herself. She thought of her son Creten and her husband Malthos. She had already lost three children and Malthos was determined to make sure she lost her last one, she never scorned him the way his father did in fact she had found delight in the fact he was so different from his siblings. Preferring to disappear and look for new plants or creatures while his bothers and sister practised their shooting and bladework. But now, like them he was gone and so was her husband, he may have been hard but he was loving in his own way she wept at the thought of how he might have died. These Humans, these monsters that were ravaging their world had come and taken everything from her and she hated them, loathed them, cursed them. Then someone got her attention, a merchant mentioned the town of Mela, her town.

“Excuse me” she said grabbing his arm “What did you say about the town of Mela?”

“Oh that place, it's gone, burned to the ground I saw on my way here from Geeda, where the survivors were taken”

“What? Survivors?”

“Yeah, I hear most of that town are in Geeda now, there is a little one there causing a bit of mess by talking about peace and understanding with the Humans”

Her eyes lit up “Was he small with short hair and no tusks and with a scar across his left brow?”

The Merchant looked at her confused “I didn't get a good look at him but he was small and had no tusks”

“Creten!” she screamed “Take me to Geeda, NOW!”

The Merchant was taken back by her sudden request and held his hands up “I am not going back for another three days while I restock and return to trade, and besides, can you pay me to take you there?”

Oolana froze and released him, she ahd nothing, no money and nothing to trade...except. She pulled him close and whispered in his ear and the merchants eyes lit up with desire.

“I accept your payment”

Jenkins was about half way through his metamorphosis as it was being called, he had refused to rest which would make it go faster but as he said he had too much to do so as a side effect he was at a point between Human and what was next. He ached and was still getting used to the extra joint growing in his leg, the tail was a bit annoying as well as he kept sitting on it and it was very sensitive so it hurt.

But all that was forgotten for when his connection to the Link intensified he heard a conversation between the Conduit and the Nerve. What he heard shocked him.

The Conduit sat opposite him in his office tent neither saying anything.

“Can you say that again please” he asked.

“The Gal...are dying”

“Um...elaborate please”

The Conduit seemed uneasy speaking about this, or maybe it was not sure how.

“We were never meant to take the form that you see before you now, we were originally designed to be a biological weapon. Microscopic in size, the physical form was not supposed to be available to us but we evolved and overcame, but at a price. We are dying, we can no longer produce new spawn”

Jenkins sat in shock, he didn't want to believe this “Is there a way to reverse this, can we help at all?”

“You already have” the Conduit said and even though it had no true face Jenkins sensed it smile.

“The symbionts”

“Yes, we used the last of our spawning capabilities to produce as many of them as possible to give to you, the Gal as you know will go extinct but our genetic material and legacy will live on in you. Right now your president is being told this too and soon through the Link everyone shall know”

Jenkins sat back in his chair, it had had a part of the back taken out so his tail could fit comfortably through and the chair was higher as his legs were now longer. He held his head with one hand watching the Conduit.

“You've been planning this since the beginning haven’t you?”

The Conduit could not hide his surprise that Jenkins figured that out.

“It did occur to us during our first contact that we may be as Humans say, cut form the same cloth, we knew of our impending end even then and were searching for  way to continue. Finding you we saw ourselves for what we could have been and this plan was formulated as a possibility. When peace came to our races we began putting it into action”

“Why didn't you tell us?” Jenkins asked.

“We were scared, we were afraid you would refuse or even kill us and wipe us out and our work to liberate those oppressed under the Alliance would go unfinished” the Conduit said feeling an emotion it could not understand, if it had eyes it would have cried.

“Oh Gal” Jenkins said getting up and embracing the Conduit “You have nothing to fear form us, we accept you and are thankful for these gifts you have given us. I admit these new bodies take some getting use to but Humans are very adaptable. You are us and we are you, knowing that how could we ever hate you?”

The Nerve heard this and this conversation was heard by every remaining Gal and even the Humans heard it, the Gal's secret as they thought was in fact, their hope and the Humans cried and laughed and embraced the Gal thanking them and saying how happy they were to have met them. Such a scene would have been thought impossible years ago when these two races met on the battle field intent on killing each other. Now they were family and they were sad for one was dying, but they would live on, inside Humanity. Or as they were now calling themselves, The Celestrians.

#newcomers #amollion #humans are space orcs

[allollipoppins]

Ch.6: MinaYuu - A Study in Scarlet/愛して愛して愛して

Read it on AO3 here.

Minami Kenjirou sees red.

The water pools around his ankles, cascading down his pink legs and splashing against the tiles of the shower stall.

[Distantly far away far away long ago a coiled necklace]

“Now Minami, you'll be a good boy and stay still for your shot, will you?

He tries to scream but hands slap on his mouth, restrain his limb. One wraps around his neck and its coil gets tighter, tighter, tighter –

Black spots invade his vision, eclipsing the pain of the needle sinking into his skin.”

[“I want people, I want people,” it cried, this cursed necklace]

His skin is turning pink from the scalding water, the color sprouting from various spots on his limbs and spreading like wildfire, a distant rash his eyes ache to relieve but not his hands.

[Don’t get angry.]

“You good-for-nothing brat,” a woman spits from behind him before striking him on the back one more.

He sits on his knees, hands balled into fists and a neutral, distant expression on his face. The ideal figure of the obedient child.

The first strikes have that effect. They don't sting so much anymore, or maybe it's just that he can't feel them as acutely as he does for the next ones.

His nails dig into his palms as the whip hits the tender, marred flesh of his back which he is sure is a cobweb of red lines by now, a maze of strings entangled together and imprisoning his frame.

He grits his teeth when she pauses, then lashes out at him with a howl-like scream. There we are, he observes. The whip drags itself along his spine, dragging with it remnants of the skin it has reopened, and blood. The movement, somehow, reminds him of a dog licking its master's wounds.

Such irony.

Maybe if he untangled his hands from his hair, he could give in to the pulsing curiosity. Run his fingers along his arms, his legs, his chest and back. Search for dark places and feel them burn underneath his numb fingertips. Rake them with his nails, just the tips, then pressing, digging into the flesh then rubbing, and scratching, until skin there is no more.

[Don’t abandon me.]

"Please, Minami, my darling, my love..."

He advances towards the woman half-sprawled on the floor, her body slowly emptying itself from blood, liquid seeping between the fingers she presses on her stomach. If he closes his eyes, Minami could almost hear it drip. Each and every single drop leaving the veins, slipping through pink flesh and reddening fabric, attracted by force of gravity to the fellow trickles and pulling itself to the ground in a steady beat. A pulse outside of a body, a rhythm in echo wth the faltered breathing and choked sobs.

What a sweet, sweet music to his ears.

“Oh my god, Minami, I beg of you!”

His feet bring him closer in the direction of the body, reaching out towards the extended hand. He raises his own in response, fingers clutching a torn card to the pint the corners have dug into his palm and etched a new web of lines interwined with his own natural lifelines.

The knife resting in the palm of his hand is the only god he knows.

[Don’t go anywhere.]

(Hey.)

His nails, he notices, have dug into the flesh of his palms deep enough to leave crescent-shaped indents. The hot water's strangely relaxing effect, added to the cacophony thumping inside his head, has left him too numb to focus on the pain. The mark becomes an open wound and even as it draws blood, Minami's eyes only follow the trail crimson droplets take, plunging into the pink water and blooming atop the rose water. They disperse themselves as soon as they come, washed down the drain.

[Fasten it tightly, til you could throw up, so there aren’t there aren’t any people here.]

Like poppies, a voice pipes in his brain. Alive for a day, then gone tomorrow.

Just like humans.

[Nice results, huh? Hey hey, aren’t I a good kid?]

He exits the cabin and lifts his hand in front of his face, bringing it to the mirror next to the stall. The temporary crimson hair dye he used on missions has left his fingers tinted as if he's dipped them in a can of paint.

These days, he doesn't bother putting on gloves to dye his hair or using cottonballs and makeup remover to wipe the blotches of red and white caked on his face after a long night.

[Aren’t I a cute kid? Hey hey, I’m good, right?]

He touches a finger to his lips, chases the movement of the tip as it traces the remnants of wine red that formed a perfect line on his mouth only hours ago. A blunt slip on one side smears cosmetic beyond the left corner of his lips. His finger presses flush on his cheek, and he repeats the motion faster on the other side, smudging the right cheek with a wider, paler line that still burns bright under the bathroom led.

[It hurts, hey]

Maybe he should start investing in better cosmetics. If only to stop looking like he just stepped out of a freak show. He knows himself to resemble such a specimen out of overhearing the people coming by the orphanage, the same ones who come to adopt and yet whisper behind his back. They say a lot of things, mostly about how he does'nt strike anyone as a fit role model for the children he teaches at the small college. Some even go as far as saying things along the lines of him trying to find a family that will love him through his work. Someone who who will appreciate him in spite of his antics and queer physique. About what a child he is. On the outside he gives them the smallest polite smile he can msuter. On the inside he's dismembering them and cutting inch by inch with a dull saw. See how pretty they'd look with red decorating their faces.

Minami may be naïve, but he isn't so stupid as to not know what others have to say about him.

[Love me.]

But then, Yuuri did say red suited him, didn't he?

[Love me.]

“There my little puppet, I'll show you how to do it.”

Minami's wide eyes remain fixated on Yuuri's face and hands as they remove the cap atop the lipstick, the color slowly popping out of its tube like a pointed needle, threateningly long and crimson. He shivers at the thought of it pressing against his lips.

As if sensing his inner dilemma, Yuuri – or rather, the Puppet Master as he'd introduced himself the first time (he really ought to get it in his head by now, stupid stupid stupid) – smiles at him reasurringly, warm brown eyes crinkling from underneath his lace mask.

Minami almost flinches when Yuuri raises his hand, and scrunches his eyes shut tightly in expectation of a slap or a blow far worse. Surprise almost makes him pull back when instead, the vigilante carresses his cheek as if cajoling a scared, wild animal.

He lets himself be manhandled, Yuuri's hand propped under his chin and fingers raising it higher. This time Minami doesn't jump when the lipstick fills the distance between himself and the other man. The tip, spotless a second ago and almost so silky he could have sworn seeing his reflection in it, dissolves as it brushes his cupid's bow, then bends in accord with the curve of his upper and lower lip. Yuuri never once takes his eyes off his work, focusing hard on getting his apprentice's mouth perfectly shaped. His touches are slow though deliberate, a painter's brush strokes on a blank canvas.

If such is a muse's occupation, then he wouldn't mind having Yuuri's eyes on him anytime.

[Love me, more and more.]

And yet he also insisted that personal hygiene remained a capital matter.

[Love me. Love me, so much that it’s maddening.]

For the umpteenth time, Minami messes with his lipstick. It had started out as it usually did in these situations: out of curiosity he'd probed at the sticky substance spread across his lips in a perfect circle, finding it a little itchy despite the smoothness of the applied cosmetics under his now smeared finger. He doesn't need to look at the mirror to know that he looks like a mess.They haven't even gotten started on his hair for the day, and yet there's no doubt he already makes for a vision in red.

[It’s painful, it hurts.]

Yuuri sighs in fond exasperation by his side, if the telling smile that makes its way to his lips is any giveaway. It sends his heartbeat going at a faster pace, having this smile dedicated to him, and him only in this moment ...

[Undo undo the curse, okay?]

“Hey, isn't that my lipstick?” Yuuri raises an enquiring eyebrow. “The shade looks familiar.”

“It is!” Minami exclaims. “You gave it to me when I first started as your assistant.”

“I did? My, my, was that long ago...” Yuuri muses, hand propped under his chin and inching closer to Minami.

His hand then reaches for Minami's, while the other comes up to carress his jaw in a soft manner. Mnami feels his cheek heat up under his teacher's knuckles.

“I must say, my little one, it suits you very well. Though you probably already knew that.” Minami's breath catches at the compliment and sincere compliment, but he has no time to muster a “thank you” before Yuuri pulls him in for a kiss, and he reacts of his own will once their lips brush. The flavor of the flowery paste invades his mouth and melts with Yuuri's own minty and sweet taste.

“Oh, poppet” Yuuri whispers when they break apart, breathless and panting in each other's ears, “I'll make a bonfire out of that spark of yours.”

[It can’t be stopped.]

Red carries memories and images that Minami shall never forget, the kind burnt in a corner of his brain, always there but never really. The scarlet fringe that falls into his eyes, the sole untainted reminder he has of his dark days. The flames burning in the hearth of Victor Nikiforov's home at every gathering, eternally burning come what may. The blaze shortening his breathing, chocking him, almost licking his body with unbearingly strong heat.

“It's okay, you're gonna be okay.”

He succumbs to darkness in the arms of a dark angel.

He won't die.

Not today.

[It hurts now, it’s not enough now.]

The temporary hair dye has washed away, Minami's once fiery red hair fading back to its original flaming, marigold hue. Though the strands are slowly regaining their strawberry blond shade under the bathroom light, rose liquid still beads on the half fringe falling on his left eye, forming scarlet tears that trickle down his cheek.

[People aren’t people aren’t enough.]

“You'll leave me, won't you?”

[I won’t lose to anyone in my class.]

His sobs are delving into dangerous territory. As much as he wish he could stop that big mouth of his  from opening itself and sputter nonsense, he can't stop. What had first been repressed tears have turn to openly hysteric screaming and crying. His throat and face burn under the combination of neon lights and raw anger.

[Aren’t I a lovely good kid?]

“Just say it already! Say it! SAY IT!”

(Hey.)

Yuuri isn't replying – or could it be he isn't here at the moment? The Puppet Master's personality hardly ever strays far away from Yuuri's own, but he knows better than anyone what it takes to get him to blow a fuse.

When his mind comes into focus on this one single thought, Minami's brain shortcircuits. Shit. He just went all out on Yuuri, of all people, in a situation where he wasn't being Yuuri. He suddenly found himself praying for survival.

[More than that kid, more than any kid. Everyone come look at me.]

“Joker...”

“DON'T “JOKER” ME!” Minami snaps, then promptly slaps his hands to his mouth. Oh fuck fuck fuck now he's gone too far now he's lost it and Yuuri's gonna hurt him hurt him hurt him –

“Joker.” Yuuri's hand claps his shoulder in a tight grasp that shakes him awake from his daydreaming.

“My little trickster...c'mere”. Minami finds himself wrapped into Yuuri's arms.

[Was it kind of a lie?]

“Come on over then.” he encourages without force, rubbing his back for good measure in slow, small circles. “Cry all you need, I'm right there for you. I'm not going anywhere, okay?”

Tears stream silently on Minami's cheeks, the sobs building at the back of his throat not to far away now. He succumbs to Yuuri's embrace, burying himself deeper into his hold.

[I like you, you who are so filthy]

“Who am I to you?” Yuuri asks him one day, when they're facing each other.

A thousand words come to mind, interwined in sentences Minami is positive no language can render beautiful or meaningful enough.

His only response, the most logical that comes to mind, is to shrug, giving him his trademark lopsided grin and saying: “What's a Joker without his Queen? I'll tell you.”

He breaks the distance that separates them in a heartbeat, using one of the ropes he'd bought from a joke shop and customized to his taste – a subtle reference that, surprisingly enough, didn't go unnoticed. “Nothing.”

[It’s not enough,]

“Master! Master, look!”

Yuuri sighs. “Puppet, how many times have I told you not to call me that?”

“I know, I know, but look, look! I made us assorted cards for my new deck. What do you think?”

Truth be told he had only made two cards to replace their predecessors, but the prospect of aligning the rest of the package with the brand new ones was a tempting project.

The cards are beautiful. Polished and brand new, depicting on one Yuuri's newly acquired indigo costume and Minami's own three-piece, gold and carmine suit; with the exception that Yuuri wore a golden crown encrusted with rubies atop his head, whereas Minami had on a glittery, purple jester cap up on.

Minami rushes to show them to Yuuri, but in his haste he almost flings them straight into his palm, and barely avoids cutting it when –

[you’re not enough.]

Blood oozes from the tiny papercut. Though the cut isn't deep, Minami is close enough to watch the copper fluid beading from the tip of Yuuri's finger. They both stare as his blood seeped from the fingertip and dropped in the middle of Yuuri's own card, now baptized with its inspiration's essence.

[I won’t let go.]

“Yu – Master” he hushes, breath tightening at the back of his throat and forming a ball that threatens to choke him. In his panic he'd almost let out that he knew about his true identity.

[I’m so sorry.]

Yuuri waves him off, smiling reassuringly. “It's fine, Puppet. See? Just a papercut.” Yuuri brings the fingers to his lips, sucking in the trickle of blood descending on his finger. Minami unconsciously holds his breath at the sudden intake of air and fluid, the suction producing an almost inaudible and obscene sound.

“Besides,” Yuuri reflects, coming closer until their faces are inches apart, “I am sure you can make it up to me, can you?”

[This is happiness,]

"Puppet..."

Later on, he drinks in the sight of Yuuri sprawled under him. His lips swollen from kisses, his ruby-coloured lipstick bleeding at the corners of his mouth. Cheeks flush and burning. Skin tattooed with bruises and handprints, soft to the touch and body pliant under his hands.

[This is happiness.]

#yoi harem #yoi villain au #minayuu #yuuri katsuki #minami kenjirou #yuuriharemheadcanons #allollipoppins

[zkwbritney519-blog]

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[libraryoferana]

I’d like to welcome back author Robert Eggleton. Hi Alex. Thanks for inviting me back to your great book blog to update you about my debut novel.

Please recap briefly about your book: Rarity from the Hollow is adult literary fiction with a science fiction backdrop. In a nutshell, it is the story of victimization to empowerment taking readers from tragedy to comedy and satire, including political allegory that predicted the rise of Donald Trump to political power long before he became a household name. Lacy Dawn is a most unlikely saviour of the universe, genetically manipulated for millennia, who builds a team of zany characters to resolve an imminent threat to economic structures, one that could destroy all life – a longstanding feud between the political ideologies of extreme capitalism and democratic socialism.

What has changed since you last visited? Tell us your news! The biggest news item is that the final edition of Rarity from the Hollow was released to Amazon on December 5, 2016. When I last visited with you, my novel was being circulated as an Advance Review Copy (ARC), gathering praise and criticism by independent book reviewers and critics. One book critic had already compared the writing style to Kurt Vonnegut. https://electricrev.net/2014/08/12/a-universe-on-the-edge/ Another, a Retired Editor of Reader’s Digest, found that it was the most enjoyable science fiction novel that he had read in several years. http://warriorpatient.com/blog/2015/05/18/58/ After you interviewed me, Rarity from the Hollow was awarded Gold Medals by Awesome Indies http://awesomeindies.net/ai-approved-review-of-rarity-from-the-holly-by-robert-eggleton/ and Readers’ Favorite https://readersfavorite.com/book-review/rarity-from-the-hollow. A Bulgaria critic named Rarity from the Hollow as one of the best five books of 2015, along with Revival by Stephen King and The Martian by Andy Weir. http://codices.info/2015/12/top-5-for-2015-ventsi/. The ARC received twenty-six five star and forty-three four star reviews by independent book blogger on Amazon. Since release of the final edition, after its political allegory became much more obvious with the election of Donald Trump, a few reviewers took a second look at the novel and have upgraded their findings and ratings.

On January 6, 2017, the first of the final edition was published, five stars. The closing lines were: “…Brilliant satires such as this are genius works of literature in the same class as Orwell’s ‘Animal Farm.’ I can picture American Lit professors sometime in the distant future placing this masterpiece on their reading list.” https://marcha2014.wordpress.com/2017/01/06/5-stars-for-rarity-from-the-hollowby-robert-eggleton/ On February17, 2017, Dan’l Danehy-Oakes, a critic whose book reviews often appear in the New York Review of Science Fiction, published his review, five stars: “…I know this all sounds pretty whack, and it is, but it’s also quite moving. Lacy Dawn and her supporting cast – even Brownie, the dog – are some of the most engaging characters I’ve run across in a novel in some time….” http://sturgeonslawyer.livejournal.com/ On March 8, 2017, the 93rd book review was published by a book blogger, five stars: https://www.amazon.com/gp/review/RCL7S5MDYE791?ref_=glimp_1rv_cl

I’m continuing to promote Rarity from the Hollow by submitting articles and guest posts, participating in interviews, just about anything that I can think of to get the word out about the novel. As you are aware, author proceeds support the prevention of child maltreatment, so especially since the Trump administration has proposed budget cuts in domestic programs, I believe that any money that I can raise is important and will help a great nonprofit agency. http://www.childhswv.org/

Since the final edition of my debut novel was finally released, I’ve also gone back to work on the next Lacy Dawn Adventure, Ivy. One of my poems won first place in an international competition last year and I’ve submitted another to an online poetry magazine. I’m putting finishing touches on a short story that I plan to submit to a magazine before the deadline on April 15, 2017. Things have been “hopping,: Thanks for the great question.

Do you self-edit? If so why is that the case? Do you believe a book suffers without being professionally edited? Maybe some writers can self-edit, but I’m terrible at it. I tend to read what I intended to write rather than what was actually written. One of my pet peeves is finding typos in emails and posts, such as on Facebook, that I’ve sent. My wife will sometimes look over stuff that I’ve written, but I’ve been so prolific that she’s often not available. For something like a novel, I would never submit it for publication without a “professional” edit. That doesn’t mean I have the money to pay for one, so I’m not sure what I’ll do if Dog Horn Publishing, my traditional small press, doesn’t survive in the marketplace. Rarity from the Hollow was first edited by a friend, an English teacher, and then professionally edited by the editor of one press, the Acquisitions Editor for the University of Michigan’s Library system, and then by two affiliates of Dog Horn Publishing. So far, nobody has commented on any editing issues or typos with the final edition of Rarity from the Hollow. I got lucky. I’ve never paid for anything to do with publication of my novel, including its free editing.   

Do you think indie/self-published authors are viewed differently to traditionally published authors? Why do you think this might be? Prejudice against indie/self published authors used to be a lot worse. A book blogger recently published my take on the history of this controversy: “I Found God in Cyberspace.” https://gottawritenetwork.wordpress.com/2016/10/25/i-found-god-in-cyberspace-by-robert-eggleton/comment-page-1/#comment-755

Some well-known authors, including Stephen King, have more recently turned to self-publishing. https://www.bookworks.com/2015/06/why-stephen-king-j-k-rowling-joe-konrath-and-others-are-switching-to-indie-publishing-at-least-on-some-of-their-books/ However, for authors with little name recognition, this emergence of the traditionally published authors into self-publishing is not particularly encouraging. There have been a few self-published books that have sold well. Perhaps because he’s also a children’s psychotherapist, my personal hero is James Redfield, author of The Celestine Prophesy. He sold the first 100,000 copies of his book out of the trunk of his car before it was picked up by a traditional publisher.

I believe that there are good and bad books self and traditionally published. I can’t think of any right off the top, but it used to be common to find typos in books long before self-publishing was available. I feel that the biggest advantage that traditionally published book have over self-published books is the advertising. While not true about small presses which seem to be going down faster than seals in an oil slick, some traditional book are marketed by high salaried publicists who buy reviews printed in popular magazines.

What are your opinions about authors commenting on reviews? How important are reviews? In general, I think that it’s bad form for an author to publicly comment on a book review. As long as it’s done politely as part of a thank you note, I don’t see anything wrong with a private comment by an author about a book review. Of course, book bloggers moderate comments if submitted to their sites rather than by private email, so making an author’s comment would entirely be at the discretion of the book blogger. Competency as a book blogger or as an author, of course, varies. So does ethics. In my opinion, the skill is in the pitch for a book review, as written and as read. In my opinion, some book reviewers are so busy, perhaps overwhelmed by requests, that they may not fully read pitches and may prefer cookie-cutter type novels with which they are already familiar. Others look for those books which fall outside of mainstream releases. Online, I’ve met several wonderful people who have contributed to the promotion of Rarity from the Hollow. I’ve also met a couple who I now wish that I’d never pitched for a book review. In any case, reviews are critical to the potential success of the author and the book blogger, neither of whom are likely to make much money by their contributions to the World of Books.  

When buying a book do you read the reviews? Yes, I always read every review that is available before I buy a book.

What are your reviews on authors reviewing other authors? Perhaps more traditional than full reviews, authors writing blurbs about books have been a standard. Again, this question addresses ethics. I suspect that there are some authors and editors who primarily review books as a strategy to sell their own books or services. Of course, authors trading glowing reviews with other authors would be unethical. So are friend reviews, or, in my opinion, sharing posts on social media simply because of friendships instead of the merits of the posts. While it’s a World Wide Web, our participation on it always involves ethics. But, it’s so hard to compete simply by writing a good book. Many, if not most, traditional publishers definitely have the upper hand, so I’m a little lenient in this consideration. You know the old saying: “What’s fair for the goose is fair for the gander.”

Looking back what do you wish you’d known when you started writing? Looking back, I’m glad that I didn’t know then what I’ve learned since. I was a total novice, and to some extent, that remains true today. If I would have realized that the odds of having a good book ever appear in a book store, much less than 1%, I may have been too disheartened to have written Rarity from the Hollow. I’m very proud of my accomplishment. Especially so by two book review findings that it may outlive me: “…I would even say it could be read in a college setting both for the craft itself and its unique brand of storytelling….” http://tabbyafae.com/rarity-hollow-robert-eggleton/

Do you have any unpublished novels under the bed/in a folder anywhere which you thought were awesome at the time, but now will never see the light of day? No, I don’t have any unpublished novels that fit that description, but I have several short stories that are so dated now that they seem silly. Rarity from the Hollow was my first attempt to write a novel.

How have you progressed as a writer since you started? Technically, I’m somewhat more highly skilled in word processing, and that’s very important to writing. Most of the short stories that I just mentioned were written on a manual typewriter. I’m struggling with the craft of writing and not fully sure if my motivations to change style would be a progression or a regression of my craft. Part of me wants to remain semi avant garde and hope for a niche, while part of me wants to meet more mainstream expectations. It kind of feels like back in junior high when one struggles with wanting to both be unique but to also fit in with the crowd.

What are your views on authors offering free books? It’s a modern marketing strategy that supposedly can be used to build rank on Amazon if done through that company, but I suspect that most recipients of free books never read them or remain loyal to their authors. That’s a guess. I’ve thought about trying it on Goodreads, but since my writing doesn’t fit mainstream expectations I’ve been hesitant. Plus, many of the authors there seem to be much younger – kind of a social club – and, I may not have similar youthful interests or knowledge.

What are your plans for the future? When will we see your next book?  Tell us about it. The next full-length Lacy Dawn Adventure is Ivy. It’s been ready for editing for quite a while but I’ve delayed for a couple of reasons: (1) I’m still promoting Rarity from the Hollow to build improved name recognition; (2) I’m now retired on a low fixed-income, unsure about whether my traditional small press will survive to publish Ivy without me incurring expenses, but even more unsure about the actual costs of self-publishing given my poor skills in technology. Ivy is the story about a unique alien invasion of Earth and asks the question: How far will a child go to save a parent from drug addiction?

Give us a bit of information about your primary character(s). Lacy Dawn is an empowered victim predestined for millennia to save the universe. A good way to get to know her would be to check out a character interview by Lisa the Robot Girl. It’s very funny, and deadly serious: https://coldhandboyack.wordpress.com/2017/03/02/rarity-from-the-hollow-on-lisa-burton-radio/

Blurb

Lacy Dawn’s father relives the Gulf War, her mother’s teeth are rotting out, and her best friend is murdered by the meanest daddy on Earth. Life in the hollow is hard. She has one advantage — an android was inserted into her life and is working with her to cure her parents. But, he wants something in exchange. It’s up to her to save the Universe. Lacy Dawn doesn’t mind saving the universe, but her family and friends come first.

Rarity from the Hollow is adult literary science fiction filled with tragedy, comedy and satire. A Children’s Story. For Adults.

“The most enjoyable science fiction novel I have read in years.”

—Temple Emmet Williams, Author, former editor for Reader’s Digest

“Quirky, profane, disturbing… In the space between a few lines we go from hardscrabble realism to pure sci-fi/fantasy. It’s quite a trip.”

Evelyn Somers, The Missouri Review

“…a hillbilly version of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy…what I would have thought impossible; taken serious subjects like poverty, ignorance, abuse…tongue-in-cheek humor without trivializing them…profound…a funny book that most sci-fi fans will thoroughly enjoy.” — Awesome Indies (Gold Medal)

“…sneaks up you and, before you know it, you are either laughing like crazy or crying in despair, but the one thing you won’t be is unmoved…a brilliant writer.” —Readers’ Favorite (Gold Medal)

“Rarity from the Hollow is an original and interesting story of a backwoods girl who saves the Universe in her fashion. Not for the prudish.” —Piers Anthony, New York Times bestselling author

“…Good satire is hard to find and science fiction satire is even harder to find.” — The Baryon Review

Supporting Information

Purchase links:

http://www.lulu.com/shop/robert-eggleton/rarity-from-the-hollow/paperback/product-22910478.html

http://www.amazon.com/Rarity-Hollow-Robert-Eggleton-ebook/dp/B017REIA44

http://www.doghornpublishing.com/wordpress/books/rarity-from-the-hollow 

Public Author Contacts:

http://www.lacydawnadventures.com

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32993259-rarity-from-the-hollow

https://www.facebook.com/Lacy-Dawn-Adventures-573354432693864/

https://twitter.com/roberteggleton1

https://plus.google.com/b/108662084126982201049/108662084126982201049/posts

https://www.linkedin.com/in/robert-eggleton-909b154b?trk=nav_responsive_tab_profile_pic

                    Returning Author – Robert Eggleton – science fiction I’d like to welcome back author Robert Eggleton. Hi Alex. Thanks for inviting me back to your great book blog to update you about my debut novel.

#Author interviews #Indie Publishing #political allegory #Politics #returning author #Science fiction #support an Indie