He limped from the wreckage and sat by a rock to gather his bearings. He was a boy, he recalled, living on the mountain island King's Peak. He was born in Buffalo village, and...

电影中挣扎，梦幻中玩笑。    是非名利，得意失意，弹指成灰。    文者见文，诚者见诚。淫者见淫，蠢者见蠢。    东汉末年分三国，烽火连天不休——好吧，跟这没关系。　此文小众，玩笑至上。　基本内容，力求简洁。言外之意，请翻资料。    向前辈致敬。

When Sunghoon Jin, a famous K-Pop musician, loses the person he loves most, he falls into a spiraling state of despair. Desperate to flee from his grief, he attempts to take his life and instead finds himself in the body of his past.

My eyes felt like galaxies—holding the swirling glow of countless memories—as I took in our childhood home. Its siding looked like remnants of driftwood after a bonfire. I swore I smelled the smoky char of pine creep into my nostrils. It’s wild how the past stays with you like that. It can feel more visceral and real than the tangible things right in front of you.

“Jesus, it feels like just yesterday.” I placed a trembling hand over my heart, struggling to steady my breath.

My brother, Perry, pulled me into a tight embrace, his strength grounding me like an anchor.

“The house hasn’t changed much,” he said, his voice steady and comforting. “But we have.” His certainty made me question, Have I really changed?

Between the two of us, Perry was as solid and stoic as a mountain range. Good thing, because I was like the wind—flighty and unpredictable. Over the years, Perry had learned to handle even my harshest hurricanes.

Being his older sister—even if only by four minutes—I always wished I’d been his protector rather than the other way around. But that demon burning deep in my belly also flashed a crooked smile, knowing that Perry would never abandon me, especially since I got sober.

I hadn’t had a drink in exactly seven hundred and thirty days, and although it remained unsaid, I knew Perry was terrified of leaving me to my own devices in fear I would relapse.

Our sibling bond was iron-clad. After we lost our parents in the fire (my mother didn’t properly butt out her 2:00 am cigarette and well, the rest is history), all Perry and I had was each other. But let’s call a spade a spade; we were also as fucked up and as co-dependent as it gets. Who mutually decides to visit the catalyst of your alcohol addiction on the anniversary of your sobriety?

The house’s dilapidated front door creaked as Perry gently pushed it open. The rusted metal hinges were holding it up by a thread.

“After you.” Perry gestured me in, squinting from the sunlight. He was a gentleman, even in such obscurity.

As he held the door open, the shallow scar on his right cheek taunted me like some kind of schoolyard bully. His wound often pulled me in like that. Some days, I was sure I would dive right into it and drown. Other days, I prayed to God and the Devil himself to just let me fucking drown, already.

That mark became permanently etched on Perry’s face on the day I quit drinking, exactly seven hundred and thirty days ago. That was the day Perry screamed bloody murder at me from the passenger seat, “Jackie! Stop the fucking car!” But my bloodstream was far too poisoned with Bacardi Limon to listen. All I remember next was my vehicle being wrapped around a tree. I could have died that day, but what truly disturbed me in the middle of the night was the fact that I almost killed Perry.

A lot can happen in seven hundred and thirty days. But I assure you, forgiving yourself isn’t one of them.

“Well? You coming in?” Perry was still holding the door ajar.

I shook it off and gave my brother a knowing glance. I swear, even though we were fraternal, we had twin telepathy. I exhaled and walked in.

“Watch your step,” I warned, my forehead tense.

I imagined the rickety floorboards collapsing, crashing us into what had once been our dad’s “man cave”. That’s where he was passed out, the night of the fire.

“Kids, stay here. Do not move,” our mother demanded after getting us out of the house safely. I remember the black soot on her face and the spiderweb veins in her eyes. She shook us firmly by the forearms. “I’m getting your father.”

Perry and I held each other, shaking. The heat from the inferno felt like standing in a volcano. We never saw our parents again.

Two decades later, there we were—Perry and I—-making our way through the wreckage of our home. It was midday, yet the inside of the house screamed a tone of pale blue midnight. My shoulders were up to my ears, as though we were walking through a haunted house attraction.

I coughed into my forearm. The ocean of dust was thick like butter. As I cleared my lungs, Perry called out from behind me.

“Jacks, look at this! The fireplace,” Perry's voice was filled with awe.

“Unbelievable. It’s still here,” I whispered, a lump forming in my throat.

It was as though a Fairy Godmother breezed by and brought the decaying living room to life with her magical paintbrush. Kind of like in “Titanic”, when they showed the sunken ship underwater, versus in its prestige as it sailed across the Atlantic.

We made our way over to the fireplace and sat cross-legged on the floor.

“This was our favorite spot, remember?” I avoided his gaze, overwhelmed by the flood of memories.

“Yeah,” Perry murmured, his eyes softening with nostalgia.

For a moment, the taste of crispy, fire roasted marshmallows superseded the saturated stench of mildew.

“Remember our s’mores nights?” I asked.

“Duh. What about all our fireplace movie nights?” Perry proceeded to do his best, nasally, childhood impersonation of me, “But mom! I want to watch Beauty and the Beast!! Perry always gets to pick the movie!!”

I punched him in the arm, “First of all, I never sounded like that. And second. So what? I knew what I wanted.”

The corners of Perry’s mouth lifted. He had such a sincere sparkle about him, as though a storm cloud of confetti followed him overhead wherever he went, “You really did, kiddo.”

My chest went heavy. How could Perry love me after everything I had done? After all the relationships I’d ruined? All the jobs I’d lost? All of hisrelationships I’d ruined? How could he still choose me, when so often I had chosen a forty of Jack Daniels over him?

How could Perry still love me after I almost fucking killed him?

Perry’s gaze widened, “Hey! Remember when Mom would bring out those hot drinks she always made?” He paused, almost as if he was searching for the right term. “Apple… something? Apple ssshhh…”

I snapped my fingers, “Apple-Schnapple!”

“Yes!”

“I mean, looking back it was basically just hot apple cider, but damn it was good.” And it really was.

Our laughs echoed throughout the abandoned asylum we once called home.

Perry leaned back, holding himself up with his hands. “I loved our fireplace hangs. Especially our movie nights down here. But nothing beats our movies up in the projector room.”

I tilted my head, “We never had a projector room.”

Perry playfully “shoo’d” me away.

“No. Perry. I would remember us having a projector room. Our movie nights together were our favorite thing. You even just said it yourself.”

The house suddenly became pin-drop silent as Perry leaned in. "Memories are quite something, aren’t they?" The slight shift in his tone made my skin crawl. Perry was always wistful, but this felt different, almost… clinical, "We often remember things in ways that are… easier for us to digest.”

I was fidgety. “Gees Perry. You sound like Dr. Lasko.”

He seemed to enjoy my little joke.

Dr. Lasko had been my therapist since the accident, and I would go out on a limb and say that he would not have approved of this self-inflicted exposure therapy I was subjecting myself to by visiting the house.

Perry seemingly snapped out of his little therapist moment and went right back to being his sparkly confetti self. As I watched his amicable face scan the mantle above the fireplace, I felt a sickening uneasiness. Imagine you had actually fucking killed him.

“Man, I can still picture all our family photos up there,” Perry’s childlike wonder destroyed me.

My face went flush. I could feel the water rising in my eyes like the tides. How pathetic and infuriating was it that after everything I’d done, I was still somehow the victim.

“Hey.” He took my hand.

“Oh Perry,”  I threw myself into him. “I’m so sorry.”

My brother held me with his usual care that I didn’t deserve.

“Jacks, it’s ok. I’m still here. We’re both still here.”

As my chin rested on my brother’s shoulder, I looked ahead of me at the remains of the house. Something felt off, and it wasn’t just the overall unsettling environment. My brow furrowed. “Wasn’t the doorway to the kitchen on the other side of the living room?”

I felt Perry shrug, “I don’t think so.”

I was staring into the out of place doorway like I was trying to pull a recollection towards me. And that’s when I saw them in the kitchen: the translucent memory of mom and dad. Mom was getting our Apple-Schnapples ready. She was pacing, unlike Dad, who was sitting motionless at the table. His face was planted on its mahogany surface. His glass of Apple-Schnapple was empty, and so was the bottle of Jim Beam beside it.

Mom floated into the living room, our warm beverages in hand and a cigarette in her mouth, “Kids, your father’s not feeling well. Let’s have our Apple-Schnapples in here.”

Oh my God. The bruise on her face.

Perry jarred me back to reality with the gut punch of what he had to say next, “You’re remembering the truth about mom and dad, aren’t you?”

I pushed myself off and away from him. “How did you…”

My brother looked down, delicately tracing the floor with his finger, “We always put them on a pedestal after they died.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine, “What are you talking about?”

As Perry continued to speak, his words grew even more detached. "Do you remember that first drink Dad ever gave you?”

My eyes darted around the room as my jugular pulsed in my neck. As much as I tried to escape what Perry had just said, I did remember.

I could hear my dad’s slurring words of encouragement, “Come on, Jackie. Just one drink. It’ll be our special time, just you and me.”

The bitterness of that first sip of beer made me squirm, but sharing a “special time” with my dad—and the desperate yearning that maybe he did love me, afterall—was the overwhelm of the full moon swallowing me whole. I was only a child, and much like how my mom turned a blind eye to my father’s drinking, she did the exact same when it came to her daughter.

I’d used the death of my parents as the excuse for my alcoholism for so long, because admitting that they helped create the monster I would eventually become was like a knife to the heart. And knowing I had been too weak to conquer the addiction from my own volition just made the weapon twist in my chest.

The room was spinning. My face was blistering hot like the night of the fire.Or was that the warm heat from the fireplace when we were kids? The childhood fireplace memories ran through my mind, frame by frame, until…..they eventually vaporized to nothing. I crouched over, thinking I might vomit.

“We never had a fireplace.” Perry was nodding, very matter-of-factly.

My fingernails dug into my thighs when I looked at the fireplace and: it was gone. Only a blank wall of faded, forest green wallpaper remained. Our house was once on fire, yes, but that was it. There was never a happy childhood fireplace. Ever.

My hands were cold and clammy. I fell back onto the wall behind me. “Perry. Where are we?”

He stood up and glided towards the staircase. One hand on the banister, his footsteps creaked, one by one, as he made his way to the second floor.

My mouth was bone dry, “Perry!”

He stopped and turned towards me, “Come to the projector room. We love watching movies together, don’t we? There’s a movie I’d like to show you.”

As my brother disappeared from sight, I did what any classic horror movie trope would tell you to do: I went upstairs.

I found Perry standing at the end of the ominous hallway. Large, empty picture frames lined the oxblood walls leading up to him. Through the doorway where Perry stood, particles in the air danced in the projector’s cone-shaped light. That telltale winding of a film reel was the only sound in the deafening quiet of this house that I no longer recognized.

Half of Perry’s face—the one with the scar—was perfectly illuminated, as though he was wearing the mask from “The Phantom of the Opera”. “I think you’re ready to see how this movie ends, Jackie. This is the most progress you’ve made since we’ve been coming here.”

I gripped my thumbs in the palms of my hands, “Perry, you’re freaking the fuck out of me!”

I thought my knees might buckle as my brother’s face glitched, like a flash of static snow on a television set. As his face settled back to normal to a deadpan gaze, he disappeared in the innocuous room. I followed, running on nothing but fumes.

Clutching the doorway, my mouth fell agape. Perry was gone. I darted to the middle of the room.

As I frantically searched for my brother, I shielded my eyes with the back of my hand from the projector’s light. And that’s when, from behind me, I heard five words that made my blood run cold, “Jackie! Stop the fucking car!”

I was convulsing yet paralyzed. Moving as slowly as cold molasses, I rotated on the spot towards my worst nightmare, shown on 35 mm. On the projector screen was Perry and me in my car, exactly seven hundred and thirty days ago, the day I almost kill—

Oh my God.

My head pounded as fragmented memories surged. The reality of what happened began to crystallize, unrelenting.

My joints ached and my stomach churned. Clamping a hand over my mouth to stifle a scream, I stumbled down the hallway as it began caving in on itself. The picture frames were sucked into the walls. The floorboards cracked into distorted peaks and valleys. Wooden beams swung down from the ceiling like pendulums. I tried to spit out the chalky grit of disintegrating drywall that made the hallway look like a winter squall.

Panting heavily, I stopped dead in my tracks at the stained glass window. My body trembled with an all-too-familiar dread. Each time I faced this, I wondered if this fall would be the one that would finally end it all.

Maybe it’d be better if it did.

Holding my breath, I threw myself through the glass, my hands clawing the air for dear life. Free falling two stories feels like an eternity when you’re watching the memory of your childhood home fall apart before your very eyes. But when the weight of my body finally made contact with the earth I—

I gasped. The cold air of the hospital room shocked my lungs. I sat up, ripping the suction cups from my face and body. My gown was clinging to me, soaked in sweat. Medical equipment beeped all around me like a metronome.

Dr. Lasko, my therapist since the accident, sat across the stark white room, sighing as he rubbed his forehead. He, too, was connected to a plethora of suction cups and wires. He looked a little worn out in the fluorescent overhead lighting. Ever since I was hospitalized and later incarcerated, Dr. Lasko had been helping me delve into my memories, namely the ones that were too excruciating for me to face. And as such, Dr. Lasko had been appearing in the simulations as my brother Perry, the love of my life who died in the car crash, seven hundred and thirty days prior.

Disoriented, I blinked rapidly, the vividness of the memory contrasting sharply with the sterile, geometric ceiling tiles above me.

“I don’t ever want to do that again!” I was venomous.

“Jackie,” Dr. Lasko started.

“Don’t start,” I pulled up four fingers for air quotes, “‘Jackie, don’t give up. This was the closest you’ve ever come to facing the truth.”

As the initial burst of adrenal and cortisol left my body, I fell back on my pillow. I was depleted. Quiet rivers flowed down my cheeks.

Removing his own suction cups, Dr. Lasko approached my bedside and took a seat. He treaded lightly. “Jackie, I understand how challenging this is for you, but you did an incredible job today. If we continue making progress like this, there's a real possibility you'll gain your freedom sooner.”

I looked at the well-meaning doctor, but all I could see was Perry. Multicolored confetti fell softly around him like that first November snow. His face was the sun. His eyes reflected the whole world back to me.

Perry.

With a weak grip, I took Dr. Lasko’s hand. My vocal cords were like sandpaper. “I’ll leave this place one day, doc.” A single tear dripped from my chin onto my collarbone. “But I’m not sure if I’ll ever be free.”

Dr. Lasko didn’t say a word, but I felt him squeeze my hand, just a little bit tighter.

I licked the cracks on my lips as my eyes closed shut, imagining the oaky comfort of bourbon on my tongue. I felt myself drift, and good thing, because I needed the rest. Dr. Lasko and I would be delving into my memories again the following day.

No matter how masochistic it felt, I vowed to keep showing up for the simulations. Even if I never forgave myself for what I did, at least in my memories, I got to see Perry.

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'The next batch of players will be arriving soon.'

'Remember to act your part well. Don't step out of bounds. Don't go out of character or you'll suffer the consequences.'

In the game world, Faye was nothing but an NPC who owned a bookstore. That was all the players saw, and that was what she was known as, but what if she was more than that?

After a meeting with the 'main character' of the game, things take a turn for the NPC Faye and she becomes more aware of her status and the world around her, more than she ever did before.

Not 100% sure why I felt like writing this, if I'm honest. Basically, this is just some opinions I have about things that I like that are, if it wasn't obvious, unpopular. I'm not going to do anything political or anything like that, just rant about things I'm not 100% on board with. If you have questions on something you want to know my opinion on, feel free to comment and you might find a part based on your question if I have an opinion.

Some of these will contain spoilers so read at your own risk

I’m Sakura Minazuki, a mageka from a distant realm, often called by the names of “Princesa de Claridade”, “Luminosa”, and so forth, which all entail the invincibility of my powers.

But for now, I’m just an average office worker.

That’s right, a “wage slave” or so you may call it - nothing close to a mageka.

Sakura Minazuki, one who bore the glorious names such as the most powerful “Princesa de Claridade” and “Luminosa” in a distant realm named Glace, made her way to Hong Kong under certain work circumstances. Realising there was not a single job suitable for a mageka, upon the recommendation of her flatmate Kou Igarashi, she changed her path to earning a living as an office clerk.

Stuck in a long-standing dilemma between reality and ideality over time, she decided to pick up on her past identity with the advice from Kou and kick off her double life - “clerk by day, mageka by night”.

One day, the duo received an incoming request to “banish all ‘vampires’ from the city”. What was the true identity of these rumoured creatures of mystery who had been roaming around the city of prosperity attacking humans? And what was the intent behind it?

“In the name of ‘Princesa de Claridade’, I, Mageka Luminosa, now call upon the obedience of this dark creature under my dazzling radiance!”

＊The Walpurgis Night Series Settings Collection＊

・Character Design

・Magic and World Ideologies

・Sceptre Properties

... AND MORE!

​​​​​​​

Original work: 魔女之夜 第壹夜 午夜的血紅薔薇

Author: Setsuna

Cover, character design and illustration: YoumiCitrusTea

Translation team: PJ (Translator), SaltyTank (Editor)

Update frequency: 1-2 chapters per month

“There is only one war that matters, The Great War. And it is here.”

Jon and Daenerys heading to Winterfell for the battle of the Long Night against the Night King. They are aware of the challenges ahead especially in taking the Iron Throne from Cersei Lannister if they survive in the Long Night. There is only one question for their long fight ahead. How will all of this end?

Atania, Humanity's newest home. Deep in the far reaches of another galaxy, Humans have become part of a galactic alliance that learned to harness the power of an incredible ability: the Kanushin, a physical embodiment of spiritual energy.

Diah Nollak, a rebellious Chyl noble, is caught in a whirlwind of political intrigue when she is kidnapped and taken to a massive metropolitan space station far from her home. After learning of plans by the vicious Kunar Regime to destroy the alliance's headquarters, Diah and a ragtag group of adventurers must embark on a planet-hopping journey to prevent the galaxy from breaking into all-out war.

Kanushin is Book #1 in the Starweaver's Tapestry, a Sci-Fantasy saga that spans 15 key stories across 4 distinct eras.

「先生不好意思，這邊告知您一聲，您大概三天之內就會死了。」死神使者告訴我。

「但好消息是，你可以進天堂！」

「預先通知死訊是天堂的最新服務之一，讓善良溫柔的好人們可以跟家人朋友好好告別。」

「如果你說了一些不能說的事情，我會阻止的！所以請放心，隨意盡訴心中情吧！」

使者一臉熱情，而我想了想，問：「請問張梓言在天堂嗎？」

「你的女友張梓言嗎？稍等我查查看......她在地獄呢，畢竟殺人犯只能進地獄，請你諒解。」

「那我可以進地獄嗎？」

「抱歉，規則上不可以哦......」

「如果我也殺人呢。」

使者頓了一頓，面有難色：「理論上是會判進地獄啦......」

「明白了。」

老實說，我快死了，所以殺誰應該也沒關係。

而且已經知道死後有死後的世界，所以我也只是提前送那個人到下一個階段而已，可以稱之為人生Fast Pass。

說起Fast Pass，倒讓我想起了跟她一起去環球影城的故事......

作者的話：這會是一個短篇故事，預計在3萬字內完結。每天更新，like一like我會更容易堅持寫，畢竟我寫了快有10年（1年挑戰1-2次那種），但沒一次堅持到一半。

England 1694—

Constantine Every is the daughter of infamous pirate captain Henry Every, the richest and most elusive pirate alive. Until one day, she suddenly wakes to become a hostage of her father's greatest enemy and Devil of the Atlantic, Captain Thomas Tew. While Tew hunts for her father and his hoard of riches, Constantine is thrown into a cruel world unlike any she's ever known. She's sure her story is finished until she meets Edmund Hemingway, the ship's cabin boy. The two fight to stay alive on the nightmarish pirate ship as they travel across vast oceans and mysterious lands to find Henry Every and his enormous fortune. But the southern winds are rough and tides will turn. And no one, not even Constantine herself, is sure they'll make it out alive.

***Book One of The Bastard Girl Series ***

The world fell into darkness. The day all humanity knew was twisted and contorted into something unstable and evil. The Capital city of this dark time Ōkoku was a town like others where the people lived their daily lives but this night was the night all would become none of what it once was. On a nearby boat fishermen were doing their job trying to catch big fish for the city and their own families so they could make their living and be done with it. But one fisherman spotted something across the sea. It was getting closer and closer, a creature at sea and it was speeding across the water as if it were on land! The men shouted at each other to ready the guns and cannons as they began firing at the beast; the bullets and cannonballs bounced off like pellets. The demon charged lightning in its mouth and fired out a blast setting the ship ablaze and leaping over it rushing into Ōkoku, burning and killing civilians. Just as that demon entered Ōkoku other demons began to follow shortly. They all rushed into the city, birdlike creatures flew in and fired waves after waves of searing flame down onto the city, torching people. Demons ran through the streets eating people, swallowing their souls and breaking buildings as their commander made himself known among all the chaos.

"Such beautiful suffering, I can't believe it has finally come, to think I almost missed the end of the world. Such pure pure ecstasy." His wings spread as he motioned for all the demons under his command to attack.

"The demons have shown themselves to the world, now we have no reason to hide ourselves. Kill as many as you can without worry of being spotted." A man's voice echoed through the heads of many. A man stood on a roof with his rifle aimed at the lion looking beast that destroyed and killed those people at the harbor. He lined up his shot and took fire, sending the beast flying and crashing down dead. A comrade of his used her Naginata to cut the legs off of one of the many giant demons before spinning around and slashing its head clean off. Another warrior tossed his chain onto the wing of a flying demon, sinking the blade in using the momentum of the demon's flight he launched into the air, zipped around, and came down slicing its back open, killing it in a single strike. It came down with a screech crashing to the ground as the man landed on it. These were the rays of hope that these citizens needed, allies who were just as powerful if not more powerful than the demons. So much so they could be considered demons themselves but not just any demons. These were The Fiends, Demons who kill Demons! They came in full force following the orders from their capital, known as the Divine Mountain. They all stood together strong and with wills unbendable and emotions incorruptible and with them came their captain. A warrior who graduated to the top of the Divine Mountain in mere weeks, a record unheard of by any Fiends known to record. Known as "The Tyrant Of The Battlefield", they called him a Warlord and One Of The Divine Mount's Greatest Fiends.