Author Topic: The SSSS Scriptorium  (Read 768179 times)

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3525 on: January 03, 2018, 10:52:43 AM »
And here's Chapter 2 of my short fic, in which we get Lalli's perspective on the situation.

A story to keep secret: Chapter 2
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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3526 on: January 06, 2018, 12:15:53 PM »
Since I can't help seeing Chapter 4 of that fic as more of an epilogue, I guess this is already the end of the main story arc, in a way.

A story to keep secret: Chapter 3
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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3527 on: January 06, 2018, 02:06:24 PM »
Numerology
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Part 5
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Spoiler: 4 to 1 on the Favorite • show
Östersund, Y20

The old man was smiling, which Fredrik took as a Very Bad Sign. The old man was known for how enthusiastic he was at backing the biggest losers any time he placed a bet. Fredrik frowned down at the little slip of paper covered with the old man’s spidery scrawl. The bet looked sound enough, so what did the old man “know” that Fredrik didn’t?

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Most of the bookies wouldn’t take bets from the old man, so Fredrik had become his go-between; even so, some of the guys had started to look at Fredrik askance when he went to place the old man’s bets. The fact that Fredrik often placed a bet or two of his own opposing the old man’s bets had them even more suspicious.

The old man patted Fredrik’s arm in a rather condescending manner. “Just go place the bet, Sonny.” The old man always called Fredrik “Sonny”; Fredrik supposed the old man couldn’t remember his name, but the old man never called anyone else by that particular name, so Fredrik also supposed it might be counted as a compliment.

Mia—gentle, gracious Mia—stepped in then. “He will, Grandpa; he’s just being responsible.” She turned to Fredrik and murmured, “Don’t worry; he can afford to lose what he’s bet.” Which he will, her eyes added.

Fredrik gave a slight nod to acknowledge her unspoken addendum, saying aloud only, “Very well, sir; I’ll place the bet for you at the first opportunity.”

Mia gifted Fredrik with one of her blinding smiles as he walked off.

*
Östersund, Y25

Fredrik fussed over every conceivable aspect of his dress and appearance—and a few inconceivable ones, or so his amused sister informed him. Fredrik knew he was being as foolish as a teenager in the throes of his first crush, but he couldn’t help himself. Everything had to be just right for Mia.

Mia arrived just after Fredrik’s sister left. Her first question after the maid removed her wrap relieved a few of Fredrik’s anxieties. “What’s that wonderful smell?”

Fredrik crossed his fingers behind his back for luck as he replied, hoping hard that the rest of the evening would go as well as he’d planned.

*
Östersund, Y30

The old man was smiling as he left the room with the others, which Fredrik took as a Very Bad Sign. What did the old man know that Fredrik didn’t?

Fredrik turned to Mia, who was looking at him with a kind of nervous expectancy that told him that she knew as well as the others did why he was here. “Mia…” He had to clear his throat before continuing, “…I know I’m not Love’s Young Dream, but…”

“Oh, who says you’re not?” Mia interrupted, throwing herself at him. She would have fallen on the hard wooden floor if Fredrik hadn’t caught her in his arms, and might have hurt herself, so he was really acting out of chivalry.

There was very little said for the next few minutes, but eventually Fredrik asked, and Mia accepted.

“HA!” The old man burst out from behind the door. “I knew I could count on you, Sonny!” As the others all crowded back in, the old man chortled, “I got those fools down at the bar to give me 4 to 1 odds on you! Think of it—4 to 1 on the favorite!”

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
More lighthearted after-the-apocalypse stuff.

LooNEY_DAC

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3528 on: January 07, 2018, 04:33:21 PM »
Numerology
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Part 6
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Spoiler: 55°40’34”N 12°34’06”E • show
Year 0, Day 22

It is in the nature of Mankind to desire to build something that will outlive its creator, whether it be a dynasty, a nation-state, a monument, or a clock.

The Clockmaker had been making other, lesser clocks for over twenty years when the Rash came. He’d always had the idea of a clock that would run forever in the back of his mind, but such a vanity project must always come second to the day-to-day needs of life.

When he first saw the Rash defacing his neck, he knew that the hour for his final, greatest clock had struck; he only hoped he could complete his work before the last chime tolled.

He was trying to get this clock to power itself from the Earth’s motion, which no one had yet succeeded at, though he had other plans for backup power sources. In any case, the clock would need to be utterly self-sustaining through however long it would remain, so self-lubricating and self-correcting as well as self-powered. It was a tall order for someone in the prime of body and mind, and the Rash would ensure that he was neither.

On the other hand, success at anything was almost always determined by whether you could out-stubborn the problems you encountered along the way, and for this, he was prepared to out-stubborn anything.

*
Year 90

Another day, another raid. This time, Sigrun and Emil were headed for yet another mark on their map where Siv had indicated that they might expect to find a small cache of books suitable for retrieving. Hopefully, the location would prove unsuitable for a nest while remaining suitable for the books to have survived the end of the world that had brought them into being, but Emil wasn’t counting on it, even though their hit rate had actually been quite good so far.

From the outside, the place was far too intact for Emil’s liking; he could see that Sigrun agreed without having to ask. Even so, they were here, and giving up without even an attempt was anathema to both of them, so they forced the door and went in.

The interior of the old shop matched the exterior: far too intact not to be a nest. Both Sigrun and Emil expected to be attacked at any minute, even though there were no signs that anything had entered here since the Old Times.

They found a single corpse in what had evidently been a workshop just outside the storefront proper; an entire wall was a solid mass of mechanical clocks of every style and description, thicker even than the show-off wall in the storefront. “Better keep mum about this to Little Fuzzy-Head,” Sigrun murmured to Emil, rather unnecessarily.

Still in awe at the mass of clockwork and carved wood, metal and plastic, Emil only replied, “Yeah.”

*
Year 0, Day 45

His eyesight was completely gone now; he was working by feel alone, and even that was less and less as his skin surrendered to the encroaching Rash.

Sporadic fever, vomiting and dizzy spells had given way to intense pain and weakness as his body edged ever closer to the inevitable end, but he would not stop until the job was finished. That thought alone kept him working far beyond what any reasonable person would have called the end. Just one more gear in place; then another, and another…

*
Year 90

BONG!

With that first, great chime, the entire wall of clocks seemed to come to life. Every last timepiece arrayed on the cracked plaster began to strike the hour in a dizzying cacophony of clangs, tweets, cuckoos, chimes, and even whistles.

Emil knew now why no grossling dared nest in this place.

“Nice,” Sigrun said once the noise had ended. She had been looking at her chrono, comparing its reading to the vast array of clocks on the wall. “Ninety years without adjustment, and they’re less than a second off true. Now that’s craftsmanship.”

“How do you think they’ve kept running all this time?” Emil wondered.

“Short Stuff could probably tell us, if we were fool enough to tell her about this place,” Sigrun replied, “or maybe Mikkel. Anyway, I’ll leave that to the brains; folks like us just have to accept that things are the way they are, without worrying over the why too much, unless the why involves grosslings.” She hefted a huge stack of loose papers at Emil, who obliged by holding his bag open to receive them. “The way things are here is that this poor guy built a fine grossling repellent machine, which means we can take everything in here that we can carry without worrying about an ambush, and that’s a blessing we won’t likely see again.”

“Too bad,” Emil opined as they set to gathering up more books and papers…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
Something something something longitude something something timepieces something something Greenwich something something.

Or something like that.


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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3529 on: January 08, 2018, 04:45:43 PM »
Cute idea for how Fredrik and Mia met.

Otherwise, here's the end of my own short project.

A story to keep secret: Chapter 4
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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3530 on: January 10, 2018, 03:24:09 PM »
Writing A story to keep secret had the side effect of bringing my Ensi headcanons back to the front of my brain, and one of the prompts I had shortlisted for idea-short days turned out to be perfect for exploring one of my unifying headcanons concerning her and her family. Enjoy!

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3531 on: January 12, 2018, 01:06:14 PM »
Numerology
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Part 7
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Spoiler: 6-Packed Through the Silence • show
The entire group said it as one: “You brought BEER?”

Of course, they didn’t all say it in the same way; only at the same time. One was confused, another disapproving; but a good half of their group was delighted.

He held up the 6-pack so that they all knew he was telling the truth. “I splurged,” he said, putting it on the table, his face and voice deadpan. This was to be their last night ashore for quite some time, and he was hoping the beer would make at least one of their group more amenable to the long water trip ahead; as the one in question was one of those who had responded with delight, his hope had increased.

The youngest of their group hesitantly picked up one of the cans. “‘Moose Urine Special’. Why is it called that?”

“It’s a joke; I’m not sure where it originated, but it’s a statement about the quality (or lack thereof) in certain extremely cheap beers, which the brewer decided to adopt as self-deprecating humor.”

“Oh.”

Then his sister pushed forward angrily, the reason for her upset preceding the rest of her. “Eino! You know I can’t have alcohol when I’m pregnant!”

“One can won’t kill the kid, especially if you just sip it over the next few days,” Eino said. “Besides, this is probably the last of this we’ll ever taste.”

Aino weighed that for a long time before she said, “Will it go bad if I keep it until after the baby’s on formula?”

Eino frowned. “I’m not sure. Do you have any idea, Saku?”

“I’d have to Google it,” Saku said automatically. Then he frowned.

“Don’t fuss so, Aino,” Tuuli said in her ‘I’m a happy crazy person’ voice. “Let’s just have this one last drink to honor where we were before we start off for where we need to go.” Her smile widened. “Do you remember the last time we had a round of this?”

Despite herself, Aino smiled back. They had been at their favorite pizza place in Mikkeli; this had been before Veeti and nearly before Saku, and all of them had been quite gung-ho about trying this new ‘Moose Urine’ beer. That air of camaraderie and happiness was more or less all Aino could remember about the evening, as the group had obviously decided that this new beer was certainly drinkable enough, whatever the brewers chose to call it.

It had been one of the last times they had gotten together as a family in the actual city; Tuuli and Eino, and eventually Veeti, had started really getting into their survivalist thing, so Kaino, Aino and Saku had placated them by going out into the back end of nowhere every so often, usually using the boat to get there. Fortunately, the back end of nowhere had generators, satellite TV, cell reception, and broadband internet.

All they had now were the generators, and those wouldn’t last forever.

They were going to go out to look for other survivors in the morning; they had been out of contact with the world for almost three weeks now, and the need to know was gnawing at them all—even Eino and Tuuli.

Before they left, though, they would have a hearty drink tonight, to fortify them against what the morning might bring…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
It’s the end of the world—let’s have some booze! (Says the teetotaler.)

wavewright62

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3532 on: January 22, 2018, 04:31:51 AM »
I have posted a W story for the Alphabet Challenge, looking at Árni Reynisson's time in quarantine aboard the Coast Guard ship.
 It's called 'Waiting.'  http://archiveofourown.org/works/13449213
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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3533 on: January 27, 2018, 12:04:31 PM »
I just finished somewhat shoehorning my Assassination Classroom AU idea into one of my short-listed prompts, if anyone is interested.

A very special classroom
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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3534 on: January 27, 2018, 02:13:57 PM »
And this is my cue to finally post the next bit.

Numerology
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Part 8
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Spoiler: 793.8 • show
Being an Icelandic mage in the midst of the godless Swedes was proving harder than he’d thought when he’d been offered the trip—certainly harder than the trip to his jolly fellow believers in Norway, despite their proudly stated ignorance of anything beyond their fjords. His Swede friend had seen what magic could do, but his family remained steadfast in their disbelief; he didn’t quite mind for himself, but the hurt his Swede friend obviously felt at the resulting family strife gnawed at him.

He came back to his friend’s house one evening to find the family all gathered in the living room. His friend was scowling thunderously at a stranger with an implacable mien and an odd sense to her.

The stranger turned to face him, examining him through a pair of spectacles with odd emerald lenses, and something eased in the stranger’s face. “You are an Icelandic mage,” she said in a cool voice, removing the spectacles. “Good. That should settle that.”

His friend half-relaxed as the stranger made to leave, but his friend’s mother very nearly exploded. “Aren’t you even going to test him? What are we paying you for?” His friend turned his scowl on his mother.

The stranger paused. “Madam, I expose the fraudulent claims of those who pretend to work magic; those who actually are mages are of no interest to me. Keep your money.” The stranger said those last words with supreme disdain, which shocked his friend’s mother into silence.

Before the stranger could leave, the mage asked, “Who and what are you?” There was only curiosity in the question.

The stranger turned back to the mage. With a slight bow, the stranger replied, “I am an illusionist, a master of the ancient arts of misdirection and prestidigitation. I have no magic myself, and for the last several years I have turned my skills to exposing those charlatans who claim to be magic without any real power at all. As I said, since you are a true mage, you are outside my purview.”

The mage felt his eyes widen. “Are—are you Mentallo the Magnificent?”

The stranger stopped short. “You’ve heard of me?”

The mage felt himself blush. “I’ve loved reading about illusions and sleight-of-hand since I was a kid, but I’ve never found anyone back home who could perform it—I’m kinda from the back end of nowhere.”

“Yes, and you’ve fooled my son into thinking you’re a mage, but we know better!” his friend’s mother erupted anew, ignoring her son’s silent glare.

“He is a mage,” Mentallo retorted. “Mages of the Icelandic tradition are readily identifiable by their distinctive garb, by their air of abstraction, and by the weird glow they give off when you look at them through these glasses.” She tapped the spectacles hanging from a cord running behind her neck. “I don’t carry them as a fashion statement, you know.”

His friend’s mother looked like she was going to have some kind of infarction. Before she could get out more than a few incoherent sputters, though, the mage decided he needed to act. He grabbed a pad of sticky notes from the coffee table, quickly drew a galdrastafur on the top sheet, pulled it free, and stuck it on his friend’s mother’s forehead.

The effect was immediate and dramatic. His friend’s mother shut her mouth, the rage immediately wiped from her face. She slowly sank back down onto the couch, the alarming color receding from her face and neck as she did.

“…And while anyone can use a rune, only Icelandic mages can draw them, and few can do so with such alacrity,” Mentallo added softly. “Well done.”

His friend finally relaxed completely. “That’s a sedative rune like the one you had to use on me when you were working on my leg, isn’t it?”

“Yep. I’m sorry I jumped in like that, but her look scared me.”

His friend’s father spoke for the first time. “It scared us all; thank you for helping her.”

“You know,” Mentallo said, “if you’re really interested in sleight-of-hand, the Mora Public Library has an entire section of books about it.” She smiled. “I even wrote a few of them myself.”

She gestured to the mage, and they and his friend left the house together…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
Kiraly had better have known what the title means, or I’ll be really disappointed in her.

This took way too long to get out. Grrrrrrr.

Windfighter

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3535 on: January 31, 2018, 02:58:10 PM »
Inspired by a certain fanvid the talented Oemelmuff did I bring to you

Colors of the wind
Or
Another Quarantine Ship Story by Windfighter

Warning for some Danish, Norwegian, Finnish, Icelandic and Swedish. You won't understand the plot if you don't speak all five languages.
I'm jesting, it's not very important xD
It was very important to keep it in their languages though, for reasons.

Anyway enjoy!

Spoiler: show
   Emil flipped through the pages of the book, but didn't read it. Water was splashing against the hull of the ship and he listened to it. It was soothing, a memory from a time he couldn't remember. He leaned against the wall, closed his eyes.
   ”Du tror att jag inte förstår dig.”
   The words that left his mouth was barely audible. A song his mother had sung for him when he was young. A song he had heard his grandmother sing once before she passed away.
   ”Du har sett så många platser, ja visst det har du nog.”
   His voice slowly got stronger, his gaze turned towards the ceiling.
   ”Du vet hur allt ska va, och trots det så tänker jag...”
   ”Hvers vegna þú veist þó svo undrafátt, undrafátt...”
   Reynir's voice distrupted Emil. He got up from the bed and went up to the door, tried to spot the icelander.
   ”Þið þykist geta eignað ykkur landið”
   It sounded weird in the foreign language. He leaned against the door, listened to it. Reynir did not have a perfect singing voice, but it was slightly better than Emil's.
   ”Sjálf jörðin metin dauðra hluta safn.”
   ”Men berg och träd och allt du har omkring dig...”
   Reynir paused a second too long, but then his voice cut through the door again.
   ”...á sér líf, á sér anda, á sér nafn.”
   ”I tror at alle fremmede er fjender.”
   Both Emil and Reynir flinched when Mikkel's loud bear-voice echoed across the corridor.
   ”Og behandler naturen som I vil.”
   Emil put his hands over his ears in an attempt to close the sound out. Reynir responded by raising his voice.
   ”En reynir þú að feta' í ókunn fótspor.”
   Emil decided he could also.
   ”Kan du lära med ditt hjärta här och nu.”
   Sigrun peaked up in the room across from Emil's and ran to the door, slammed her hands into it.
   ”Har du noen gang hørt ulven hyle natten lang?”
   Sigrun didn't sing as much as shouted and the other three glared in her direction but she wasn't deterred.
   ”Sett gaupen smile i sitt stjernespinn?”
   Before Sigrun was able to continue a soft voice interrupted.
   ”Voitko laulaa äänin jylhän isävuoren?”
   Four jaws dropped to the floor. Lalli leaned against the wall to Emil's room, his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs.
   ”Värit tuulen pystytkö sä maalaamaan?”
   There was a sadness in Lalli's voice, Emil could hear it. He glanced at Sigrun to see if she heard it as well but she was busy preparing to jump in again.
   ”Värit tuulen pystytkö sä maalaamaan?”
   Emil snuck up to the wall, slid down next to it and tapped at it. Sigrun started shouting again, but there was a light tap back. He closed his eyes, relaxed. The dream had been going on for a couple of minutes when Lalli arrived.
   ”You okay?” Emil asked.
   Lalli sank down in the couch and fiddled with his hands for a while. Emil offered him a slice of the cake but Lalli shook his head.
   ”It...” Lalli's eyes looked out the window, avoided Emil. ”It was Tuuri's favorite song.”
   ”Ah...”
   Emil looked at the cake, put it on the table again and sat down next to Lalli. Silence, Emil didn't know what to say, Lalli didn't seem to want to say anything.
   ”...how...”
   ”Her mother taught it to the three of us.”
   Emil could admit when he was wrong and he was happy Lalli wanted to share something with him.
   ”I couldn't understand what was so great about it, but Tuuri...”
   ”Yeah, I can see why it'd speak to her... Do you... want to finish it?”
   Lalli shook his head, leaned back and looked at the ceiling. Emil pulled at his pants, looked at Lalli and looked away again.
   ”I'm sorry I brought it up.”
   ”Why?”
   ”Because it hurts you.”
   ”Not your fault”, Lalli leaned forward again. ”I don't mind.”
   ”My mother used to sing it for me. I... The water reminded me about her. I think.”
   ”Do you want to finish it?”
   Emil flinched as he remembered how Mikkel had butchered it.
   ”...not any longer, no. I can't sing anyway.”
   ”I liked your singing.”
   Emil blushed. Lalli leaned back again.
   ”Was sincere. Honest.”
   Lalli looked at the ceiling, then at Emil.
   ”Very gentle.”
   Emil leaned back as well. His cheeks were still red and he tried to not look at Lalli.
   ”Thank you.”
   He looked out the window instead, watched as the snow piled up against the trees, as the fire kept burning, as the snowflakes kept dancing in the wind. He listened as Lalli helped himself to some cake, but neither of the two said anything, there wasn't anything to say. Emil's fingers tapped against the window, his lips forming inaudible words.
   ”The rainstorm and the river are my brothers...”
   Emil's voice started out quiet, whispering. Lalli looked at the cake, then leaned against Emil's shoulder and Emil's voice grew stronger.
   ”The heron and the otter are my friends. And we are all connected to each other...”
   Lalli took a shaky breath. Emil wanted to quit, but he wanted to continue.
   ”In a circle...”
   Lalli's hand grabbed Emil's, Lalli's voice joined Emil's.
   ”In a hoop that never ends.”
   Lalli hugged Emil's hand, then let go and got up from the couch.
   ”We should wake up.”
   Emil looked at Lalli, nodded, but didn't say anything about the wetness in Lalli's eyes. He watched as Lalli walked out through the door, before he woke up in his room again. He stretched and tapped twice on the wall. Mikkel, Sigrun and Reynir were still singing and he almost didn't hear Lalli tapping back. He smiled and rested his forehead against the wall.
   ”Kan du måla allt med färger i en vind?”
Fluent: :sweden:
Decent: :uk:
Phrases: :spain: / :japan:
:book1+:

My stories frequently features themes such as death, suicide, mourning, etc; I cannot give precise warnings for each individual stories, as it would spoil the intrigues.

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3536 on: January 31, 2018, 05:13:42 PM »
Windy, that is sad and beautiful.
Avatar is courtesy of the amazing Haiz!

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3537 on: February 01, 2018, 06:58:34 AM »
The Index is updated.

C'mon, people, write more! ...I would say, but I can't exactly talk.
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:norway: can hold a basic conversation

:chap5: | :book2: | :book3: | :chap17: :chap18:

Windfighter

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3538 on: February 01, 2018, 07:43:14 AM »
Trying, but I've grown slightly bored of writing SSSS-stuff! ...that and I constantly get either sad because I can't post it here or I get anxiety attacks because what if the thing I just posted here actually shouldn't have been posted here!
like the last thing which probably shouldn't have been posted here
...wait. I'm not even in the index anyway, why am I defending myself?

(also you're awesome for keeping it updated! <3 I don't think I've said that recently!)

Windy, that is sad and beautiful.
Thank yoooouuu! Sorry about the sad though! <3
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Decent: :uk:
Phrases: :spain: / :japan:
:book1+:

My stories frequently features themes such as death, suicide, mourning, etc; I cannot give precise warnings for each individual stories, as it would spoil the intrigues.

Gaemmel

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3539 on: February 01, 2018, 12:28:28 PM »
The Index is updated.

C'mon, people, write more! ...I would say, but I can't exactly talk.

Trying my best to get back on my writing feet currently. It's hard, december and january wore me down a bit.
I'm the left one on the picture.

Fluent: :germany: :uk:
In school I had: :france: :spain:
Some words and phrases: :japan:
Learning: :sweden:

:chap13::chap14::chap15::chap16::chap17::chap18::chap19::chap20::chap21: