#i just finished the other wind and when i tell you how beautifully jarring it is

[tiddytrashcan]

Everytime I think I understand the degree to which Ursula K. LeGuin Got It™ she hits me with another life revelation

#i just finished the other wind and when i tell you how beautifully jarring it is #to have someone put into words almost precisely how you feel about life and death and the meaning in both #and this is something i was just like reflecting on today thinking about how j was brought up #and how my belief of how to live a meaningful life and what may happen upon death changed as i did #and how i feel so much the better for it #and then here come ms leguin with another fucking homerun that knocked me to my knees crying #like it was just so poignantly beautiful and felt like everything i had felt #in any case this is your push to go read earthsea #earthsea #the other wind

[trensu]

Episode 21: The One where the Siblings Know Things

So you know how when you grow up with siblings, they get to know you in really annoying and inconvenient ways? Like, they can just look at you and Know Something is Up when really you want them to mind their own business

Apparently this is a thing even for cultivators in Ancient Fantasy China

It’s pretty great!!!

(for us, not for the siblings in the show)

(they probably just want their siblings to shut up about it already)

BUT WE’RE GONNA TALK ABOUT IT INSTEAD LOL

The yunmeng sibs are reunited it’s all teary and happy and kind of hurt-y

Jyl: we’re all together again. Together forever, the three of us!!

*HYSTERICAL SOBBING*

IT’S A LIIIIIEEE

And NHS interrupts bc ofc he does and he gives us a little hint of wangxian

He reaches out to pat wwx’s shoulder in welcome, but wwx pulls back from it so hard there’s an awkward silence for a minute there

But wwx and nhs are bros so nhs just rolls with it 

Nhs: oh, we were all so worried, everyone’s been looking everywhere for you especially jc and LWJ~!

And here jc drags him out bc god forbid anybody mention him having feelings to anybody yeesh

Wwx ends up alone in the room after that and suddenly ~THEIR SONG~ starts playing at a very slow, melancholic tempo

Wwx grabs his flute and gets lost in his head for a bit

And as he’s lost in thought, lwj walks by and sees him sitting all alone in that room

AND HE JUST STANDS THERE

observing him for a bit

lwj why are you just standing there?? 

LWJ DO SOMETHING

And we get the return of the Bichen Death Grip 

You know the one

He does it every time he’s experiencing Emotions over Wei Ying. 

STOP DOING THE DEATH GRIP OF GAY YEARNING AND GO TALK TO YOUR SOULMATE ALREADY GOD DAMN IT

(spoiler alert: he doesn’t)

(nobody in this show ever listens to me, what the heck)

Then we cut to the evil wen lair

Boring Plot Stuff happens.

Now we’re back at Qinghe and everyone’s at a dinner party!

NMJ is doing a whole toast to like, honor wwx’s return or smth

And wwx doesn’t even notice bc JK NOT EVERYBODY IS THERE

GUESS WHO’S MISSING

LWJ. LWJ IS THE ONE  NOT AT THE PARTY

Yeah, so wwx is getting honored by a sect leader and everybody’s faced towards him to like, take a shot in his name

And wwx is totally oblivious 

wwx is ignoring the opportunity to take a shot of alcohol

wwx is ignoring ALCOHOL bc he’s too busy STARING AT THE EMPTY TABLE BEHIND HIM

THE EMPTY TABLE THAT SHOULD HAVE LWJ

LITERALLY EVERYONE JUST CHEERED FOR HIM AND HE WAS TOO FOCUSED ON THE LACK OF LWJ TO NOTICE!!!

Eventually jc gets his attention and they finish the toast and we have nmj interrogating wwx about the lack of suibian

This Becomes a Thing

Ppl are like super offended he doesn’t have his sword

We meet Sect Leader Yao here (and we immediately hate him bc he is the most obnoxious person ever) who starts to gossip about this with everyone else

SHUT UP YAO NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOU

And jin zixun chimes in

SHUT UP JIN ZIXUN NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOU EITHER

GOD THEY’RE BOTH THE WORST

Anyway, the only reason any of this is mentioned is bc ppl are already turning against wwx and it causes a Moral Quandary later on for lwj

Moving on bc we don’t want to spend more time on those jerks than absolutely necessary…

We cut to lwj!! He’s alone in his designated room playing the guqin

He’s so focused on playing it well 

His concentrated expression is pretty~

I think he’s playing the song of clarity or whatever it’s called (idk, it’s some kind of Magic Music)

Which would explain why he’s so intent on playing it right

BC HE WANTS TO PLAY IT FOR WWX SO WWX CAN GET BETTER

We cut back to the dinner party where everyone’s still gossiping like high school kids, ugh, but we’re tolerating it because jyl starts to give us some wangxian pie

Jyl: where’s lwj? Haven’t you two been getting along well? 

JYL KNOWS WHATS UP

Wwx: is that so? (he says bitterly)

(wwx, this is your own fault. If you hadn’t been so mean to him before, he’d probs be there rn)

Eventually wwx gets fed up with the gossiping, snags a wine jar and leaves (yao is super insulted and it’s great)

Now wwx is wandering alone, drinking wine (he’s kind of a drunkard, if you hadn’t noticed yet) and HE SEES LWJ’S SILHOUETTE

Lwj is still alone in his rooms playing the guqin (~BEAUTIFULLY~)

And wwx pauses briefly to watch him

He starts walking away but stops himself a small distance later and makes himself comfortable leaning against some fence nearby AND STAYS THERE LISTENING TO LWJ PLAY

As he’s listening to lwj play, he flashes back to LWJ telling him that his wicked tricks will hurt him

EVERYBODY IS HURTING RIGHT NOW

LWJ IS ALL ALONE PLAYING HIS GUQIN

WWX IS ALL ALONE DRINKING HIS WINE

AND WE’RE ALL ALONE WATCHING THIS GO DOWN

AND THEY’RE BOTH HURTING BC THEY DON’T KNOW HOW TO TALK ABOUT THINGS 

AND WE’RE HURTING BC THEY DON’T KNOW HOW TO TALK ABOUT THINGS

Now JC shows up to demonstrate that thing siblings do where they pick up on each other’s moods and get obnoxious about it

Jc: why do you look so gloomy? Is it bc of lwj?

JC KNOWS WHATS UP

Jc: he’s been avoiding you since we split up

Jc: why did you come here to be disliked by him?

WHY DID YOU COME HERE, HE SAYS, WHY DID YOU COME HERE OUTSIDE HIS ROOMS AND THEN JUST LOITER LIKE SOME CREEPY STALKER

Wwx: maybe i’m just bored

(his smile here is NOT his sunshine smile, it’s a very SAD smile. it gave me Depression™ )

Other stuff happens that are plotty and unimportant

There’s a scary bit where jyl get attacked by wwx’s flute but she handles it with grace bc she’s awesome

She’s like, ah, so i guess it recognizes you as its owner, you better name it then

And now wwx’s demon flute has a name. Chenqing

After that, wwx is looking at chenqing thoughtfully as ~THEIR SONG~ starts playing

And we cut to LWJ who grabs bichen and also starts looking thoughtfully at it

LWJ THEN STARTS A FLASHBACK TO WHEN THEY WERE IN SCHOOL TOGETHER AND WWX TALKED ABOUT HARNESSING RESENTFUL ENERGY

LWJ LOOKS SO UNHAPPY HERE

We cut to the evil wen lair for some bizarre reason bc obvs we’re not here for evil wens, we’re here for wangxiantics

After THAT nonsense is done, we cut back to wwx and get to see him fail at meditation. After this he disappears for a bit.

We know this bc there’s a strategy meeting and jin zixun throws a hissy fit bc wwx isn’t there

Lwj is there and is stoically silent throughout it.

Nothing else of importance happens here

We find out wwx is out and about and sort of loses control of the resentful energy when he sees defenseless wens (the good ones!) getting bullied and whipped

It’s scary

Wwx plays his demon flute but doesn’t seem to be doing it by conscious choice

THIS IS BAD NEWS GUYS

IT WILL LEAD TO SAD TIMES FOR OUR BOYS

But for now we cut back to the strategy meeting where nothing happens but we do get some shots of lwj’s face so it’s not TOTAL waste of time

AND THEN WWX MAKES HIS ENTRANCE

DOORS SLAM OPEN WITH A STRONG BURST OF WIND

ROBES BILLOWING AROUND HIM AND HIS HAIR FLOWING MAJESTICALLY

I LOVE MY CHAOTIC BI

LOOK AT HIM 

Wwx: yeah, don’t worry about the Plot Device,bros, i got this

Lxc: what are you planning to do?

Wwx: you’ll see in a month~!

After the meeting the lan bros have a scene

We haven’t had lan bro time in a while, and this lan bro time is definitely worth the wait

Lxc: why is wwx so confident he’ll be able to handle the Plot Device?

LXC JUST ASSUMES LWJ WILL KNOW THIS

BC HE KNOWS HOW CLOSE THEY ARE

BC SIBLINGS JUST KNOW THINGS

Lwj: I don’t know

AND IT KILLS HIM THAT WWX WON’T LET HIM CLOSE ENOUGH, WON’T LET HIM IN

Lxc: the deaths at yiling, were they related to the Plot Device?

Lwj: No, lxc. He’s not like that.

HE’S NOT LIKE THAT

DID YOU HEAR HIM?

HE HAS FAITH IN HIS SOULMATE

EVEN AS OTHERS ARE STARTING TO DOUBT HIM

And now our lan bro time gets INTENSE

Lwj: lxc, are there rules already set for everything in the world?

Lxc tells him no, there are no set rules in the world, right and wrong are not always clear

Lwj: if people can’t be judged simply this way, then how do we evaluate a person?

Lxc: what makes us human can’t be judged simply as right or wrong. As we evaluate others, we shall not label them black or white but know their intentions deep inside

SUCH AN INTENSE CONVERSATION

SO VERY IMPORTANT

IT WILL SHAPE BASICALLY EVERYTHING LWJ DOES FROM NOW AND FOREVER

ESPECIALLY WHEN IT COMES TO WWX

(who are we kidding, this whole convo was obviously about wwx from start to finish, lxc knows this)

Oh, and now the yunmeng bros show up. They’re walking along the same path as the lan bros and they pause when they see them

More specifically, there’s an awkward pause as lwj and wwx notice each other

AND IT’S SO FUNNY BC JC LOOKS AT WWX AS SOON AS LWJ COMES INTO VIEW

AND LXC LOOKS AT LWJ AS SOON AS LWJ NOTICES WWX

BC JC AND LXC KNOW WHATS UP

THEY BOTH KNOW THEIR BROTHERS ARE HELPLESS FOR ONE ANOTHER

IT’S LIKE THEY’RE WAITING TO SEE WHAT THEIR BROTHERS WILL DO

The awkward pause ends and the two pairs of brothers reach each other and do the formal greeting bow

Once they’re that close to each other, wwx’s attention immediately goes to lwj and lwj’s attention goes to wwx bc ofc it does

BUT THEY SAY NOTHING

NOBODY SAYS ANYTHING TO ANYONE

WHAT THE HECK

COMMUNICATION, EVER HEARD OF IT BROS??

Then wwx drops his gaze and looks away

And then he proceeds to WALK AWAY WITHOUT A WORD????

Lol jc gets kind of flustered here. 

He watches wwx walk away and is like ‘?!?!?’

He looks awkwardly at the lan bros, dithers for half a second, and then follows wwx

Now we’re alone with the lan bros again, And lxc is still trying so hard to wingman his bro!! Bc lxc knows whats up

Lxc: lwj, if you’re worried about wwx…

Lwj: not a bit.

And then he walks off! Just walks out on his brother again!!

LWJ I THOUGHT WE WERE PAST THIS ALREADY

THE WHOLE ‘NO OFC I DON’T CARE ABOUT WWX’ AND STORMING OFF

WHAT HAPPENED LWJ

STOP REGRESSING

THAT’S NOT GONNA HELP 

Now we’re with the Yunmeng bros

Jc: be honest with me, you and lwj decided to cut ties just like that?

(jc still knows whats up)

Wwx: he’s the one who cut ties, not me!

MAYBE IF YOU HADN’T BEEN SO MEAN TO HIM BEFORE WWX, HE WOULDN’T BE AVOIDING YOU

We cut to lwj who’s walking alone now. Some time must’ve passed but it’s unclear how much tbh

Lwj walks towards a door

wwx’s door to be exact

And he almost knocks on the door

but he chickens out

HE WAS SO CLOSE!! SO!! CLOSE!!!

HIS FIST WAS RAISED AND JUST A COUPLE INCHES FROM THE DOOR

AND HE STOPS HIMSELF???

He just stared at the door and then didn’t knock on it

I’M SO FRUSTRATED WITH YOU LWJ

AND HE JUST TURNS TO WALK AWAY LIKE NOTHING???

Thank god jyl shows up and stops him bc jyl still knows whats up

Jyl: are you here for wwx?

Instead of answering, lwj bows politely at her and turns to walk away AGAIN

(which, rude, don’t leave your future sister-in-law hanging like that)

Jyl: wait, i have a question for you

We cut to wwx who is walking to his room and he overhears lwj and jyl talking about how wicked tricks hurt the mind/body

wwx interrupts and he’s very cold about it

Wwx: lan zhan, what are you telling jyl?

Lwj: wei ying

Wwx: i remember telling you to stay out of our business

GUYS YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW ICY HIS TONE IS HERE

HE’S COMPLETELY FREEZING OUT LWJ, HIS SOULMATE

Lwj’s eyes flicker down for a second bc 

THAT 

SHIT 

HURTED

Then he just turns on his heel and walks away

He walks away quickly

He was fleeing the scene bc it hurt so damn much

Jyl comes to lwj’s defense and tells wwx that lwj was only answering questions she had asked him. 

Wwx asks her if lwj mentioned anything about what went down in Yiling, and she tells him that lwj didn’t say anything about that.

We cut to a courtyard or smth and we see wwx chasing down lwj

Wwx: lan zhan, lan zhan!

IT’S SUCH A RELIEF

HE ALMOST SOUNDS NORMAL HERE

And then lwj ruins it by attacking him with bichen

Wwx blocks him with his demon flute (and that works??? for Magic Reasons, i guess??? Pretty sure the flute should’ve been sliced to pieces but whatev)

After a brief scuffle, lwj manages to get bichen at wwx’s throat

Wwx freezes, eyes closed, and waits for the hit to land

Like he really thought lwj would cut his throat open just like that??? WHY DO YOU THINK HE’D EVER HURT YOU?? WHY?? HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH

Lwj obviously doesn’t let the hit land

But the tip of his blade stops only a hair’s width away from wwx’s throat

(it’s kinda hot, and i couldn’t even tell you why…)

(actually it’s probably bc of all that exposed neck wwx is showing)

(so open…and vulnerable…)

(…uh, moving along now)

Once wwx realizes he’s not getting beheaded today, he gets all playful. PLAYFUL!! WE HAVEN’T SEEN THIS SINCE BEFORE LOTUS PIER’S FALL!! it’s beautiful, i’ve missed it so much

Wwx: all these months, and you’ve only improved!

Lwj: it’s you who hasn’t improved at all! Where is suibian?”

And for a change of pace, we get to see wwx doing a Death Grip on Chenqing

That’s the end of the episode

SO INTENSE

SO MANY FEELINGS

SO MANY KNOWING SIBLINGS WHO KNOW THINGS ABOUT THEIR BROTHERS AND THEIR GENERAL INEPTITUDE WITH FEELINGS!!

20/10 stars for Siblings manning the Wangxian Ship.

Return to Masterpost

#WangXiantics #wangxian #the untamed #cql

[unsettlingshortstories]

Miriam

Truman Capote (1945)

For several years, Mrs. H. T. Miller lived alone in a pleasant apartment (two rooms with kitchenette) in a remodeled brownstone near the East River. She was a widow: Mr. H. T. Miller had left a reasonable amount of insurance. Her interests were narrow, she had no friends to speak of, and she rarely journeyed farther than the corner grocery. The other people in the house never seemed to notice her: her clothes were matter-of-fact, her hair iron-gray, clipped and casually waved; she did not use cosmetics, her features were plain and inconspicuous, and on her last birthday she was sixty-one. Her activities were seldom spontaneous: she kept the two rooms immaculate, smoked an occasional cigarette, prepared her own meals and tended a canary.

Then she met Miriam. It was snowing that night. Mrs. Miller had finished drying the supper dishes and was thumbing through an afternoon paper when she saw an advertisement of a picture playing at a neighborhood theatre. The title sounded good, so she struggled into her beaver coat, laced her galoshes and left the apartment, leaving one light burning in the foyer: she found nothing more disturbing than a sensation of darkness.

The snow was fine, falling gently, not yet making an impression on the pavement. The wind from the river cut only at street crossings. Mrs. Miller hurried, her head bowed, oblivious as a mole burrowing a blind path. She stopped at a drugstore and bought a package of peppermints.

A long line stretched in front of the box office; she took her place at the end. There would be (a tired voice groaned) a short wait for all seats. Mrs. Miller rummaged in her leather handbag till she collected exactly the correct change for admission. The line seemed to be taking its own time and, looking around for some distractions, she suddenly became conscious of a little girl standing under the edge of the marquee.

Her hair was the longest and strangest Mrs. Miller had ever seen: absolutely silver-white, like an albino’s. It flowed waist-length in smooth, loose lines. She was thin and fragilely constructed. There was a simple, special elegance in the way she stood with her thumbs in the pockets of a tailored plum-velvet coat.

Mrs. Miller felt oddly excited, and when the little girl glanced toward her, she smiled warmly. The little girl walked over and said, “Would you care to do me a favor?”

“I’d be glad to if I can,” said Mrs. Miller.

“Oh, it’s quite easy. I merely want you to buy a ticket for me; they won’t let me in otherwise. Here, I have the money.” And gracefully she handed Mrs. Miller two dimes and a nickel.

They went over to the theatre together. An usherette directed them to a lounge; in twenty minutes the picture would be over.

“I feel just like a genuine criminal,” said Mrs. Miller gaily, as she sat down. “I mean that sort of thing’s against the law, isn’t it? I do hope I haven’t done the wrong thing. You mother knows where you are, dear? I mean she does, doesn’t she?”

The little girl said nothing. She unbuttoned her coat and folded it across her lap. Her dress underneath was prim and dark blue. A gold chain dangled about her neck, and her fingers, sensitive and musical looking, toyed with it. Examining her more attentively, Mrs. Miller decided the truly distinctive feature was not her hair, but her eyes; they were hazel, steady, lacking any childlike quality whatsoever and, because of their size, seemed to consume her small face.

Mrs. Miller offered a peppermint. “What’s your name, dear?”

“Miriam,” she said, as though, in some curious way, it were information already familiar.

“Why, isn’t that funny—my name’s Miriam, too. And it’s not a terribly common name either. Now, don’t tell me your last name’s Miller!”

“Just Miriam.”

“But isn’t that funny?”

“Moderately,” said Miriam, and rolled a peppermint on her tongue.

Mrs. Miller flushed and shifted uncomfortably. “You have such a large vocabulary for such a young girl.”

“Do I?”

“Well, yes,” said Mrs. Miller, hastily changing the topic to: “Do you like the movies?”

“I really wouldn’t know,” said Miriam. “I’ve never been before.”

Women began filling the lounge; the rumble of the newsreel bombs exploded in the distance. Mrs. Miller rose, tucking her purse under her arm. “I guess I’d better be running now if I want to get a seat,” she said. “It was nice to have met you.”

Miriam nodded ever so slightly.

It snowed all week. Wheels and footsteps moved soundlessly on the street, as if the business of living continued secretly behind a pale but impenetrable curtain. In the falling quiet there was no sky or earth, only snow lifting in the wind, frosting the window glass, chilling the rooms, deadening and hushing the city. At all hours it was necessary to keep a lamp lighted, and Mrs. Miller lost track of the days: Friday was no different from Saturday and on Sunday she went to the grocery story; closed, of course.

That evening she scrambled eggs and fixed a bowl of tomato soup. Then, after putting on a flannel robe and cold-creaming her face, she propped herself up in bed with a hot-water bottle under her feet. She was reading the Times when the doorbell rang. At first she thought it must be a mistake and whoever it was would go away. But it rang and rang and settled to a persistent buzz. She looked at the clock: a little after eleven; it did not seem possible, she was always asleep by ten.

Climbing out of bed, she trotted barefoot across the living room. “I’m coming, please be patient.” The latch was caught; she turned it this way and that way and the bell never stopped for an instant. “Stop it,” she cried. The bolt gave way and she opened the door an inch. “What in heaven’s name?”

“Hello,” said Miriam.

“Oh…why, hello,” said Mrs. Miller, stepping hesitantly into the hall. “You’re that little girl.”

“I thought you’d never answer, but I kept my finger on the button; I knew you were home. Aren’t you glad to see me?”

Mrs. Miller did not know what to say. Miriam, she saw, wore the same plum velvet coat and now she had also a beret to match; her white hair was braided in two shining plaits and looped at the ends with enormous white ribbons.

“Since I’ve waited so long, you could at least let me in,” she said.

“It’s awfully late….”

Miriam regarded her blankly. “What difference does that make? Let me in. It’s cold out here and I have on a silk dress.” Then, with a gentle gesture, she urged Mrs. Miller aside and passed into the apartment.

She dropped her coat and beret on a chair. She was indeed wearing a silk dress. White silk. White silk in February. The skirt was beautifully pleated and the sleeves long; it made a faint rustle as she strode about the room. “I like your place,” she said. “I like the rug, blue’s my favorite color.” She touched a paper rose in a vase on the coffee table. “Imitation,” she commented wanly. “How sad. Aren’t imitations sad?” She seated herself on the sofa, daintily spreading her skirt.

“What do you want?” Mrs. Miller asked.

“Sit down,” said Miriam. “It makes me nervous to see people stand.”

Mrs. Miller sank to a hassock. “What do you want?” she repeated.

“You know, I don’t think you’re glad I came.”

For a second Mrs. Miller was without an answer; her hand motioned vaguely. Miriam giggled and pressed back on a mound of chintz pillows. Mrs. Miller noticed that the girl was less pale than she remembered; her cheeks were flushed.

“How did you know where I lived?”

Miriam frowned. “That’s no question at all. What’s your name? What’s mine?”

“But I’m not listed in the phone book.”

“Oh, let’s talk about something else.”

Mrs. Miller said, “Your mother must be insane to let a child like you wander around at all hours of the night—and in such ridiculous clothes. She must be out of her mind.”

Miriam got up and moved to a corner where a covered bird cage hung from a ceiling chain. She peeked under the cover. “It’s a canary,” she said. “Would you mind if I woke him? I’d like to hear him sing.”

“Leave Tommy alone,” Mrs. Miller said, anxiously. “Don’t you dare wake him.”

“Certainly,” said Miriam. “But I don’t see why I can’t hear him sing.” And then, “Have you anything to eat? I’m starving! Even milk and a jam sandwich would be fine.”

“Look,” said Mrs. Miller, arising from the hassock, “look—if I make some nice sandwiches will you be a good child and run along home? It’s past midnight, I’m sure.”

“It’s snowing,” reproached Miriam. “And cold and dark.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have come here to begin with,” said Mrs. Miller, struggling to control her voice. “I can’t help the weather. If you want anything to eat you’ll have to promise to leave.”

Miriam brushed a braid against her cheek. Her eyes were thoughtful, as if weighing the proposition. She turned toward the bird cage. “Very well, she said, “I promise.”

How old is she? Ten? Eleven? Mrs. Miller, in the kitchen, unsealed a jar of strawberry preserves and cut four slices of bread. She poured a glass of milk and paused to light a cigarette. And why has she come? Her hand shook as she held the match, fascinated, till it burned her finger. The canary was singing; singing as he did in the morning and at no other time. “Miriam,” she called, “Miriam, I told you not to disturb Tommy.” There was no answer. She called again; all she heard was the canary. She inhaled the cigarette and discovered she had lighted the cork-tip end and—oh, really, she mustn’t lose her temper.

She carried the food in on a tray and set it on the coffee table. She saw first that the bird cage still wore its night cover. And Tommy was singing. It gave her a queer sensation. And no one was in the room. Mrs. Miller went through an alcove leading to her bedroom; at the door she caught her breath.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Miriam glanced up and in her eyes was a look that was not ordinary. She was standing by the bureau, a jewel case opened before her. For a minute she studied Mrs. Miller, forcing their eyes to meet, and she smiled. “There’s nothing good here,” she said. “But I like this.” Her hand held a cameo brooch. “It’s charming.”

“Suppose—perhaps you’d better put it back,” said Mrs. Miller, feeling suddenly the need of some support. She leaned against the door frame; her head was unbearably heavy; a pressure weighted the rhythm of her heartbeat. The light seemed to flutter defectively. “Please, child…a gift from my husband.”

“But it’s beautiful and I want it,” said Miriam. “Give it to me.”

As she stood, striving to shape a sentence which would somehow save the brooch, it came to Mrs. Miller there was no one to whom she might turn; she was alone; a fact that had not been among her thoughts for a long time. Its sheer emphasis was stunning. But here in her own room in the hushed show-city were evidences she could not ignore or, she knew with startling clarity, resist.

Miriam ate ravenously, and when the sandwiches and milk were gone, her fingers made cobweb movements over the plate, gathering crumbs. The cameo gleamed on her blouse, the blond profile like a trick reflection on its wearer. “That was very nice,” she sighed, “though now an almond cake or a cherry would be ideal. Sweets are lovely, don’t you think?”

Mrs. Miller was perched precariously on the hassock, smoking a cigarette. Her hairnet had slipped lopsided and loose strands straggled down her face. Her eyes were stupidly concentrated on nothing and her cheeks were mottled in red patches, as though a fierce slap had left permanent marks.

“Is there a candy—a cake?”

Mrs. Miller tapped ash on the rug. Her head swayed slightly as she tried to focus her eyes. “You promised to leave if I made the sandwiches,” she said.

“Dear me, did I?”

“It was a promise and I’m tired and I don’t feel well at all.”

“Mustn’t fret,” said Miriam. “I’m only teasing.”

She picked up her coat, slung it over her arm, and arranged her beret in front of a mirror. Presently she bent close to Mrs. Miller and whispered, “Kiss me good night.”

“Please—I’d rather not,” said Mrs. Miller.

Miriam lifted a shoulder, arched an eyebrow. “As you like,” she said, and went directly to the coffee table, seized the vase containing the paper roses, carried it to where the hard surface of the floor lay bare, and hurled it downward. Glass sprayed in all directions and she stamped her foot on the bouquet.

Then slowly she walked to the door, but before closing it she looked back at Mrs. Miller with a slyly innocent curiosity.

Mrs. Miller spent the next day in bed, rising once to feed the canary and drink a cup of tea; she took her temperature and had none, yet her dreams were feverishly agitated; their unbalanced mood lingered even as she lay staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. One dream threaded through the others like an elusively mysterious theme in a complicated symphony, and the scenes it depicted were sharply outlined, as though sketched by a hand of gifted intensity: a small girl, wearing a bridal gown and a wreath of leaves, led a gray procession down a mountain path, and among them there was unusual silence till a woman at the rear asked, “Where is she taking us?” ”No one knows,” said an old man marching in front. “But isn’t she pretty?” volunteered a third voice. “Isn’t she like a frost flower…so shining and white?”

Tuesday morning she woke up feeling better; harsh slats of sunlight, slanting through the Venetian blinds, shed a disrupting light on her unwholesome fancies. She opened the window to discover a thawed, mild-as-spring day; a sweep of clean new clouds crumpled against a vastly blue, out-of-season sky; and across the low line of rooftops she could see the river and smoke curving from tugboat stacks in a warm wind. A great silver truck plowed the snow-banked street, its machine sound humming on the air.

After straightening the apartment, she went to the grocer’s, cashed a check and continued to Schrafft’s, where she ate breakfast and chatted happily with the waitress. Oh, it was a wonderful day more like a holiday—and it would be so foolish to go home.

She boarded a Lexington Avenue bus and rode up to Eighty-sixth Street; it was here that she decided to do a little shopping.

She had no idea what she wanted or needed, but she idled along, intent only upon the passers-by, brisk and preoccupied, who gave her a disturbing sense of separateness.

It was while waiting at the corner of Third Avenue that she saw the man: an old man, bowlegged and stooped under an armload of bulging packages; he wore a shabby brown coat and a checkered cap. Suddenly she realized they were exchanging a smile: there was nothing friendly about this smile, it was merely two cold flickers of recognition. But she was certain she had never seen him before.

He was standing next to an El pillar, and as she crossed the street he turned and followed. He kept quite close; from the corner of her eyes she watched his reflection wavering on the shop windows.

Then in the middle of the block she stopped and faced him. He stopped also and cocked his head, grinning. But what could she say? Do? Here, in broad daylight, on Eighty-sixth Street? It was useless and, despising her own helplessness, she quickened her steps.

Now Second Avenue is a dismal street, made from scraps and ends; part cobblestone, part asphalt, part cement; and its atmosphere of desertion is permanent. Mrs. Miller walked five blocks without meeting anyone, and all the while the steady crunch of his footfalls in the snow stayed near. And when she came to a florist’s shop, the sound was still with her. She hurried inside and watched through the glass door as the old man passed; he kept his eyes straight ahead and didn’t slow his pace, but he did one strange, telling thing: he tipped his cap.

“Six white ones, did you say?” asked the florist. “Yes,” she told him, “white roses.” From there she went to a glassware store and selected a vase, presumably a replacement for the one Miriam had broken, though the price was intolerable and the vase itself (she thought) grotesquely vulgar. But a series of unaccountable purchases had begun, as if by prearranged plan: a plan of which she had not the least knowledge or control.

She bought a bag of glazed cherries, and at a place called the Knickerbocker Bakery she paid forty cents for six almond cakes.

Within the last hour the weather had turned cold again; like blurred lenses, winter clouds cast a shade over the sun, and the skeleton of an early dusk colored the sky; a damp mist mixed with the wind and the voices of a few children who romped high on mountains of gutter snow seemed lonely and cheerless. Soon the first flake fell, and when Mrs. Miller reached the brownstone house, snow was falling in a swift screen and foot tracks vanished as they were printed.

The white roses were arranged decoratively in the vase. The glazed cherries shone on a ceramic plate. The almond cakes, dusted with sugar, awaited a hand. The canary fluttered on its swing and picked at a bar of seed.

At precisely five the doorbell rang. Mrs. Miller knew who it was. The hem of her housecoat trailed as she crossed the floor. “Is that you?” she called.

“Naturally,” said Miriam, the word resounding shrilly from the hall. “Open this door.”

“Go away,” said Mrs. Miller.

“Please hurry…I have a heavy package.”

“Go away,” said Mrs. Miller. She returned to the living room, lighted a cigarette, sat down and calmly listened to the buzzer; on and on and on. “You might as well leave. I have no intention of letting you in.”

Shortly the bell stopped. For possibly ten minutes Mrs. Miller did not move. Then, hearing no sound, she concluded Miriam had gone. She tiptoed to the door and opened it a sliver; Miriam was half-reclining atop a cardboard box with a beautiful French doll cradled in her arms.

“Really, I thought you were never coming,” she said peevishly. “Here, help me get this in, it’s awfully heavy.”

It was no spell-like compulsion that Mrs. Miller felt, but rather a curious passivity; she brought in the box, Miriam the doll. Miriam curled up on the sofa, not troubling to remove her coat or beret, and watched disinterestedly as Mrs. Miller dropped the box and stood trembling, trying to catch her breath.

“Thank you,” she said. In the daylight she looked pinched and drawn, her hair less luminous. The French doll she was loving wore an exquisite powdered wig and its idiot glass eyes sought solace in Miriam’s. “I have a surprise,” she continued. “Look into my box.”

Kneeling, Mrs. Miller parted the flaps and lifted out another doll; then a blue dress which she recalled as the one Miriam had worn that first night at the theatre; and of the reminder she said, “It’s all clothes. Why?”

“Because I’ve come to live with you,” said Miriam, twisting a cherry stem. “Wasn’t it nice of you to buy me the cherries…?”

“But you can’t! For God’s sake go away—go away and leave me alone!”

“…and the roses and the almond cakes? How really wonderfully generous. You know, these cherries are delicious. The last place I lived was with an old man; he was terribly poor and we never had good things to eat. But I think I’ll be happy here.” She paused to snuggle her doll closer. “Now, if you’ll just show me where to put my things…”

Mrs. Miller’s face dissolved into a mask of ugly red lines; she began to cry, and it was an unnatural, tearless sort of weeping, as though, not having wept for a long time, she had forgotten how. Carefully she edged backward till she touched the door.

She fumbled through the hall and down the stairs to a landing below. She pounded frantically on the door of the first apartment she came to; a short, redheaded man answered and she pushed past him. “Say, what the hell is this?” he said. “Anything wrong, lover?” asked a young woman who appeared from the kitchen, drying her hands. And it was to her that Mrs. Miller turned.

“Listen,” she cried, “I’m ashamed behaving this way but—well, I’m Mrs. H. T. Miller and I live upstairs and…” She pressed her hands over her face. “It sounds so absurd…”

The woman guided her to a chair, while the man excitedly rattled pocket change. “Yeah?”

“I live upstairs and there’s a little girl visiting me, and I suppose that I’m afraid of her. She won’t leave and I can’t make her and—she’s going to do something terrible. She’s already stolen my cameo, but she’s about to do something worse—more terrible.”

The man asked, “Is she a relative, huh?”

Mrs. Miller shook her head. “I don’t know who she is. Her name’s Miriam, but I don’t know for certain who she is.”

“You gotta calm down, honey,” said the woman, stroking Mrs. Miller’s arm. “Harry here will tend to this kid. Go on, lover.” And Mrs. Miller said, “The door’s open—5A.”

After the man left, the woman brought a towel and bathed Mrs. Miller’s face. “You’re very kind,” Mrs. Miller said. “I’m sorry to act like such a fool, only this wicked child…”

“Sure, honey,” consoled the woman. “Now, you better take it easy.”

Mrs. Miller rested her head in the crook of her arm; she was quiet enough to be asleep. The woman turned a radio dial; a piano and a husky voice filled the silence and the woman, tapping her foot, kept excellent time. “Maybe we oughta go up too,” she said.

“I don’t want to see her again. I don’t want to be anywhere near her.”

“Uh-huh, but what you shoulda done, you shoulda called a cop.”

Presently they heard the man on the stairs. He strode into the room frowning and scratching the back of his neck. “Nobody there,” he said, honestly embarrassed. “She musta beat it.”

“Harry, you’re a jerk,” announced the woman. “We been sitting here the whole time and we woulda seen…” She stopped abruptly, for the man’s glance was sharp.

“I looked all over,” he said, “and there just ain’t nobody there. Nobody, understand?”

“Tell me,” said Mrs. Miller, rising, “tell me, did you see a large box? Or a doll?”

“No, ma’am, I didn’t.”

And the woman, as if delivering a verdict, said, “Well, for cryinoutloud…”

Mrs. Miller entered her apartment softly; she walked to the center of the room and stood quite still. No, in a sense it had not changed: the roses, the cakes, and the cherries were in place. But this was an empty room, emptier than if the furnishings and familiars were not present, lifeless and petrified as a funeral parlor. The sofa loomed before her with a new strangeness: its vacancy had a meaning that would have been less penetrating and terrible had Miriam been curled on it. She gazed fixedly at the space where she remembered setting the box and, for a moment, the hassock spun desperately. And she looked through the window; surely the river was real, surely snow was falling—but then, one could not be certain witness to anything: Miriam, so vividly there—and yet, where was she? Where? Where?

As though moving in a dream, she sank to a chair. The room was losing shape; it was dark and getting darker and there was nothing to be done about it; she could not lift her hand to light a lamp.

Suddenly, closing her eyes, she felt an upward surge, like a diver emerging from some deeper, greener depth. In times of terror or immense distress, there are moments when the mind waits, as though for a revelation, while a skein of calm is woven over thought; it is like a sleep, or a supernatural trance; and during this lull one is aware of a force of quiet reasoning: well, what if she had never really known a girl named Miriam? That she had been foolishly frightened on the street? In the end, like everything else, it was of no importance. For the only thing she had lost to Miriam was her identity, but now she knew she had found again the person who lived in this room, who cooked her own meals, who owned a canary, who was someone she could trust and believe in: Mrs. H. T. Miller.

Listening in contentment, she became aware of a double sound: a bureau drawer opening and closing; she seemed to hear it long after completion—opening and closing. Then gradually, the harshness of it was replaced by the murmur of a silk dress and this, delicately faint, was moving nearer and swelling in intensity till the walls trembled with the vibration and the room was caving under a wave of whispers. Mrs. Miller stiffened and opened her eyes to a dull, direct stare.

“Hello,” said Miriam.

[nosferatyou]

New Tune: Chapter 3 (Jake Kiszka x Reader)

WC: 3.2k

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of alcohol and hard drugs, two of our favorite boys smoking weed

Summary: Two guitarists meet at a Rock Festival, only having a week with each other before they have to return to their own lives. The bond they create is unfeigned and resolute.

Notes: I HIGHLY recommend the songs I mention throughout this chapter, especially into the mystic. That song fucks me up.

I walked up to the tour bus, acoustic strapped to my back. I checked my phone one more time to make sure I had the time right. The band was still playing what seemed to be their last song. All of the members were putting everything into their playing, emotion from all of them pouring through. The singing belting out everything, the drums and bass seemed to be on the same wavelength with a steady and more relaxed rhythm, and finally, the guitar seemed angry and messy. Despite all of their conflicting tones they found a way to meld together, making their music them. It wasn't anything like me and the boys played,  I could only describe it as a mixture of Sabbath's first album and Pink Floyds “wish you were here” album. That style of a very heavy, angry blues with David Gilmour's bends and solos. I couldn't think of a genre to pin it down with. 

I decided not to burst in unannounced, so I opened up my phone and leaned against the bus, mindlessly scrolling through instagram. As soon as I started three guys walked off the bus, cigarettes in hand. They stopped when they saw me, each with a quizzical look on their faces. I quickly stuck my hand out and introduced myself,

“Jake Kiszka, I’m um, here to meet Y/N.”

Matt seemed to quickly realize who I was because a smile adjourned his face.

“Oh shit hey man! I dont think you've met the other guys. This here is Eli, our bassist.” Eli quickly shook my hand returned back to his cig. Matt continued. “And this is Asa, our baby drummer.”

 Asa shook his head and took a drag of his, then motioned towards me. “I’m literally the same height this guy.”

Matt looked at the both of us and gave out a quick laugh “ Oh shit, my bad.”

“I can't help that i’m the shortest, literally all of you are over 5’10! Y/N is a head taller than me, especially when she wears heels. Which is like, everyday.” Said Asa, trying to defend himself.

“Speaking of! She will be out shortly, she's on the phone. We are gonna go to the bar, see 

you around man.” 

They all threw me a hasty peace sign and walked away. 

They are quite the crew, I see why Y/N is the way she is. 

Not too long after Y/N hopped off the bus with a guitar strapped to her back and what seemed to be a small mason jar. 

“Well hey there, Rockstar. Ready to go jam?”

She seemed different than earlier, and it wasn’t that her hangover was gone. She just seemed… off. Still, she was peppy and seemed eager to see me.

She was dressed the same as this morning, but she put on a light denim jacket. Probably for how cold it gets at night here.

“Hell yeah. I'm assuming we aren't playing here, just that no fun.” I joked.

“My feelings would be very hurt right now if I didn't have a super cool spot planned.”

I raised one of my eyebrows, not entirely visible behind my sunglasses.

“Super cool spot?”

“Yeah! It's a bit of a walk, I hope you don’t mind. I just enjoy hiking through the desert while I’m here. A welcome change of scenery.”

I smiled at that sentence,there is just something about a girl who doesn't mind a hike that gets me.

“I don’t mind at all.”

She did look beautiful, I can’t deny that. Her hair was wild and curly, not unkempt but perfectly messy. The light from the sun catching her skin perfectly.

“Well let's get going! Can’t just stare at me all night.” 

Fuck.

A small blush rose to my cheeks. Guess I can't really smoothly play it off.

“Can you blame?”

“No I guess not.” A bright smile on her face as we started our trek.

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

“And welcome to the coolest part of this whole festival.”

We stood on a massive boulder that went off the trail, overlooking the desert. It must've been about a 20 ft drop, at least. The vast desert ahead of us  seemed never ending, and it was all covered with green bushes. The sun still setting, about to disappear beyond the horizon.

“Fuck. The boys would kill to see this” I said, the view stunning me.

She already found a spot perched on a rock overlooking it all.

“Fuck is the perfect description for this place.”

I made my way over to her, grabbing a seat next to her. She pulled the small mason jar out of her pocket.

“Whatcha got there?”

“The surprise.” She looked over to me, excitement evident on her face.

“You never told me there was one.”

“It wouldn't be a surprise if i told you.” She said nudging my shoulder.

“Well show it to me then.” 

She unscrewed the lid and inside was a nug of weed, along with rolling papers and a lighter.

My eyes lit up, happy to see the product in front of me.

 I chuckled and said “Y/N, You're killing it tonight.”

“Rockstar, you don't have to tell me that.” She handed it to me suddenly, then continued 

“Thing is, I never learned to roll. Well-” She stopped for a moment, thinking. “Well I did learn, but my skills are laughable.”

I grabbed my guitar from my back, and laid it down in my lap, using it as a flat surface.

“You brought the right person with you.” I grabbed the items out of the jar and laid them out, staying as still as I could. Talking while rolling the blunt.

“Josh stopped smoking joints a while back, you know, for his voice. Sam and Danny still do, but both use bongs whenever they can. In fact, I remember Sam trying to make a bong in woodworking class, I think it’s still on the bus actually.”

I finished grinding it, setting it down in a little pile, then grabbing the papers. Continuing 

to talk while I rolled.

“Anyways they always left me to roll, and after MANY years of experience.” I stop for a moment to lick the edges and push the paper in with my tongue. “I can roll a pretty damn good blunt.”

I finally finish it off by running my lighter along the edge, cooking it.

“Under two minutes? Damn, man I’m impressed. If I did it we would have been here a while.” She laughed and then laid her guitar down next to her, leaning back on her hands. 

I grabbed all the stuff and put it back in the jar, sitting it down next to me. I tried to pass the blunt over to her.

“Ladies, first”

“Psh, please. I know proper etiquette.” She lightly scoffed, pushing my hand back over to me.

“I insist, it’s your bud.” My hand returning back to its spot, wiggling it around to tease her.

She was stubborn, her face was scrunched up in thought before finally accepted. She took it from my hands, going for the lighter.

“Ah, I got it.”

“Ooh, look at you being all chivalrous.”

I laughed and cupped my hand around it, blocking any wind, then lit the end of it.

She breathed in, holding it in a bit before finally exhaling, letting out a plume of smoke. It hanging heavy in the air for a moment before the breeze sweeps it away.

She passed it over to me, and I grabbed it out of her hand, taking an equally big hit.

“Its funny, usually by now i'm in the middle of a cough-” She cut herself off, going into an expected coughing fit. 

I cough out a laugh, not expecting that to happen. The both of us laughing and coughing before it eased.

It seemed like it had been a bit since she’d smoked, she was paying attention to all of her actions carefully before doing them.

We eventually calmed down and quietly passing it between each other, enjoying the sounds of nature and the setting sun.

“Fuck I hate when it gets this small.” She was doing her best to pinch the end of it, trying to get a hit.

“It's a fun challenge.” I laughed.

“I use this so I don’t have to deal with challenges.” She passed the roach over to me and settled back on her hands, staring off into the distance. A serene look on her face and seemingly not a bad thought in mind.

I took a final hit before putting it out on the rock and flicking it off the boulder.

“Wanna play something?” I asked.

“Just- Give me a second, this all is so beautiful its a bit overwhelming.”

I simply nodded and stared off myself, marveling in nature's beauty.

I caught my gaze drifting over to her several times, admiring her peace. She seemed so at home with all of this.

“Know the song “Junk” by John Denver?” She asked not looking away from the scenery.

I fully turned my head towards her saying “Of course.”

She pulled herself away and grabbed her guitar and pick, starting to strum the tune.

She sang along, never faltering. I listened for a bit, admiring her voice. The song matched the energy of the night, making the whole experience more surreal.

In the chorus I joined in, harmonizing with her soprano voice. Our voices melded together beautifully, our guitars singing and harmonizing together. A smile forming on her face, as we both sang together. Our guitars finding a rhythm together and continued on after the song ended. We played off of each other, either one of us soloing at any point, but we kept a steady strum pattern throughout it. 

We eventually found a way to segue into other songs, never really stopping. Continuing to sing, and if we messed up we’d laugh while continuing. We generally knew all the songs we started, and if the other didn't they’d play matching chords, listening to the other sing. I played my fair share of John Denver and Neil Young, never forgetting a word. She seemed kin to Jim Croce and James Taylor. Not that I ever minded. Both of us were so perfectly contempt with just staying there and never stopping. We stayed like that for hours.

Eventually we did slow down, finishing “Annie's Song” by John Denver. Which of course I started. I looked up to see her tearing up, still she never stopped playing, nor did it seem that she wanted to. Her voice cracking when singing the lyrics. Once the finished I gently set my guitar down on the ground, and moved hers as well, she didn't seem to mind. Her eyes never moved from the ground, staying quiet rather than her normal talkative self.

“Little Bird, what's wrong?”

She looked up, her eyes red and puffy, tears streaming down her face. 

“Little Bird?” She asked. 

“I don’t know just trying it out.” I said quietly.

“Well nor am I little or a bird, but its cute.” Very voice barely audible.

 I pulled her in for a tight hug, not letting go. I whispered “Talk to me, Little Bird.”

She relaxed in my arms, wrapping her arms around me, quietly crying onto my shoulder, muffling her sobs. We stayed like that for a while, I let her take the time she needed.

She finally pulled back turning her back to me to wipe her eyes and face, then turning back around to face me with sad eyes.

“It’s nothing really. It’s not anything I cant handle. I have been handling it.” Her voice 

trailed off, but I didn't push her. I let her take her time to get her thoughts together. 

“It’s just a big jumbled mess i’ve learned to deal with. You know how home life can be.”

I nodded, moving a bit closer, listening to her words.

“It’s just, this career, its taking a toll on my relationships. My dad, he was a musician too, he never got anywhere, but he is really fucking good. Anyways he always played folk and old country, I guess he never really got my heavier style. Which is fine, that wasn't a problem.”

She paused a moment.

“Just.. He hasn’t accept me as real musician in a way, because of it. In his eyes, my work is along the lines of all the pop shit out there. Which hurts more than anything else. It’s not like i’m doing this for my dad, this is all me. There is just something about a parents judgement though, you hold it above everything else.”

I stayed quiet for a moment, processing everything. I knew that wasn’t everything. Annie's song is what caused her to cry, these situations have no correlation.

“I think. I think he just sees these country and folk legends as what they are, the best. I mean we all know that, but I think he's so tunnel visioned that nothing else compares. I’ve heard you, you’re fucking fantastic. I won't lie to you, I found your instagram and made it to the bottom. You're an amazing performer who’s doing more than most out there, more than me. I found that video of you using the violin bow, it blew my mind. I tried my hand at it, but I didn't come close to what you can do.”

I stopped myself, fearing id go into a hole of compliments and guitar talk.

“I digress, your dad is honestly dumb if he can’t accept how talented you are. Yeah, I said it, your dad is acting dumb.”

She laughed lightly, and leaned against me.

“Ah so you agree?”

She just hummed against me in agreement.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

I turned my head to look at her face, and asked “What's really wrong? I know this is probably one of them, but I have a suspicion that this isn't the main problem.”

She took a deep breath and sighed. 

“I was hoping you wouldn't see that.” She somberly laughed.

“Well, um. I had a fight with my..” She trailed off, “With my boyfriend.” 

My own mood deflated when she said that, let down. I just stayed still and listened.

“I've been ignoring him for days. Which is extremely shitty on my end, I deserve what I get. We just, ever since my bands been growing he’s been getting harder to handle. If that 

makes sense?”

I nodded.

“Well, uh, he’s always been the jealous type. Asking me if i'd rather be with other men,and  if we went anywhere he’d make it extremely clear to anyone that I was with him. It's gotten to the point that he has convinced himself that im cheating on him whenever I leave to go on tour. Which is quite often. It hurts to hear that the man you're with has zero trust in you. It really fucking hurts, you eventually just start blaming yourself for his actions.”

She took a sharp breath, slowly exhaling.

“So I started turning my phone off and just leave it off for days. I couldn't handle it, so I ignored it.” 

“Y/N.”

She continued.

“ I swear he’s good to me, he loves me. He just lets his jealousy get the best of him, it just takes over. Once im home its all okay, but that's like two months out of the year. It doesn't help my case that I have to argue his case…”

She went quiet, just thinking to herself. I honestly didn’t know what to say, so I just continued to hold her and be there for her.

“Thank  you for being with me tonight.” She said

“No problem, little bird.”

She smiled for a second before it faltered. 

“God knows what I would've gotten into tonight. Usually this is when Eli would bust out the coke, and by that point I’d be hammered. Maybe Asa would have suggested acid instead of coke. God, the amount of acid i’ve tripped on during shows. I did it nights in a row, which isn't the safest thing. This is the tamest thing i've done weeks. I can't remember the last time I didn't drink into oblivion.”

“All to drown out the noise..” she said under her breath.

“I honestly don’t know what to say, Y/N.”

“I know, i’m a mess.”

“No, it's not that. I just, I want to give you some type of advice, I want to help you. I just don’t know how.”

“Thank you, Jake. The boys have all tried in their own ways. There is just nothing I can do.”

She gave a weak smile and pressed in closer for a second.

“No one should be treated that way, its bullshit. Love is trust, and that kind of jealousy isn’t the right kind of love. You know?” 

She weakly scrunched her shoulders.

“I’ve only known you for I think two days? I don't know if this is crossing a line for our two days of friendship, but I just have to say. You can’t take this bullshit from him, you’re a fucking rockstar who takes no shit. You definitely don't from any of these guys, and especially the business side of it. You're playing whatever you want on that stage, you obviously fought for that freedom. Fight for this one freedom.”

She moved out of my side, my arm falling from her shoulder.

She laid her head in her hands, running her hands 

through her hair. 

“Fuck. I know you're right. I know it, I.. I just can’t break away from him. Ive built my life around him, it’s just like that fucking Fleetwood Mac song.” 

She suddenly turned around, facing me, her eyes sad and heavy.

“Can we play one more song?” She asked.

“Anything, Little Bird. As long as it isn't Landslide.”

She weakly laughed and shook her head, focusing on her guitar.

She started the chord progression for “Into the Mystic” by Van Morrison. 

Just like before at practice, she played with every emotion poured into it. Melting into the song, letting it all out. I joined it after the first few verses, playing the solo part on my guitar, letting her focus on the words. During the chorus the both of us threw caution into the wind and belted it. No longer harmonizing, but just being in the moment. Connecting with the universe, as Morrison intended. Never letting our voices falter throughout the rest of the song, belting every word. Both of us playing our guitars as if our lives depended on it. 

We crescendoed into silence, both just sitting in the moment. Reveling in it.

She suddenly broke the silence.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.”

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Eventually we made it back to her bus, both of us exhausted. She made it to her small pantry searching for something. I plopped down on the couch, leaning back into it. I closed my eyes and heard her pop something into the microwave. The clicking of her heels getting louder as she grew closer. She sat down next to me, leaning her head against my shoulder. A small smile growing on my face. 

“Thanks, Rockstar”

“My Pleasure, Little Bird.”

Chapter 4

#jake kiszka x reader #new tune #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #greta van fleet #first series #jake kiszka imagines #jake kiszka fic #can we get one reblog this time? #yeet

[mythicalsecretsanta]

The Night (T)

This gift is for: Archie (AKA @archionblu) Merry Christmas! I hope you like it! From your Secret Santa, Kayla (AKA @kayluh1915)

Read below:

“Great job today, Alli! I want to see some improvements in your vocal projection by next week, okay?” The young girl no older than 14 nodded her head and grabbed her backpack that was sitting on the nearby chair.

“Okay. You won’t be disappointed, Mr. McLaughlin!” He breathed a light chuckle, waving to her as she left.

“See you next week, Ms. Stewart!” He called. Once she had left, he picked up his shoulder bag and looked down at his watch. 

“Just enough time,” he whispered. He quickly walked out of the enormous Broadway theater and into the busy streets of New York City, trying his best to not bump into someone as he briskly walked towards the school.

When he and Link had first moved here, they hated it. The constant sound of beeping horns, blazing sirens, and people shouting to the top of their lungs was just about enough to drive them crazy. They missed their home back in North Carolina where the only sounds you could hear at night were crickets and the occasional dog barks. Several times they had almost packed their bags and went back home, but when they stopped and thought about why they were even there in the first place, they would change their minds. They are here because Link deserved it. He had worked extremely hard to get into this school and deserved every single moment of it. Even though they have gotten used to the fast-paced lifestyle over the past six years, they plan on moving back to North Carolina as soon as Link graduates in May.

Rhett was snapped out of his thoughts when he passed a small flower shop on the corner. Stopping in his tracks, he looked over the small shop and thought for a moment. Link always loves it when Rhett gets him flowers, especially red roses. Not giving it a second thought, he walked into the flower shop and bought Link a beautiful bouquet of crimson red roses with some baby’s breath all tied together with a white bow. When he walked back out into the cold mid-December air, he noted that the wind had begun to pick up, zipping up his coat as snowflakes began to fall. It wasn’t snowing heavily, but it was enough to blur the view of distant buildings.

After 10 minutes of power walking, he finally reached the school. He felt the warm air of the building surround him instantly as he walked in, approaching a young woman with blonde hair behind the front desk.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“Mr. Neal left a ticket for me under the name Rhett McLaughlin.” She nodded and looked down at her desk sorting through a stack of papers. She pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it to him.

“There you go. Enjoy the show, Mr.McLaughlin.” He thanked her and walked over to the main door that was guarded by another young woman.

“Ticket?” She asked with a stern voice. He handed it to her and smiled as she opened the door for him. “Enjoy the show.” He nodded at her as he walked in. The big door closed behind him with a thud, making the room darker. He walked to the middle of the packed auditorium and took a seat at the end of the row, hiding the roses under the seat. He then pulled out his phone and scrolled through Twitter for a moment, turning it off when the lights went down. He felt his heartbeat rapidly increase, feeling nervous for Link. He had been a mess the night before over this performance, but he knew that Link would do great.

A woman that appeared to be in her late forties early fifties walked onto the stage with her heels sounding like firecrackers against the wooden floor. She adjusted the microphone and cleared her throat before speaking to the audience.

“Hello everyone and welcome. I am Dr. Melissa Goodman, the euphonium professor here at Julliard. Now, I have been here for about 12 years, and within those years, I have never had a student more dedicated and committed to their instrument as the one who is performing tonight. He is always in the practice room working nonstop to perfect his techniques and he is without a doubt, one of the best euphonium players I have ever thought. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to present to you Mr. Charles Neal with piano accompaniment by piano student, Alexis Phillips.” Rhett clapped his hands along with everyone else as Dr. Goodman walked off the stage.

He felt his heart skip a beat when he saw Link walk out onto the stage, clutching his silver instrument tightly and brushing his hair out of his face. He gently sat down in the lone chair that was sitting in the middle of the stage with an unreadable expression on his face, but Rhett could tell that he was obviously nervous. Alexis walked out and sat at the piano hitting a few notes to make sure it was on and working. Rhett saw Link glimpse out into the audience letting his eyes roam around the room to try and find him. When his eyes finally met Rhett’s, his worried face relaxed into a small hinted smile.

Alexis gave him the okay to begin with a nod. He lifted the instrument up to his lips and took in big breath releasing it with a beautiful first note that gave Rhett chills. Link always plays so flawlessly and beautifully even if he isn’t always sure of his own skills. Rhett has always loved to watch him play. Even in high school before they were dating, he always found himself watching Link and smiling like an idiot. He loves how his facial expressions change with the pitch and how he gently sways when he really gets into the rhythm of the music. He was just so perfect in Rhett’s eyes.

Minutes felt like hours as Rhett continued to watch him play, getting a chill or two every time he would hit certain notes. After about four minutes, the song was over. Rhett, along with everyone else, stood up and cheered for him as he smiled widely and bowed with the spotlight reflecting in his ocean blue eyes. He sat back down and listened to his other songs, each sounding just as beautiful as the previous one. When Link hit the final note on his last piece, the crowd rose to their feet one last time. Everyone was cheering loudly for him, clapping and whistling as he arose from his chair and took another bow. Alexis walked over from the piano and took a bow as well before they both exited the stage. Rhett quickly grabbed the roses out from underneath his seat and sprinted out of the auditorium as the lights came up. He quickly made his way to Link’s rehearsal room. The door was wide open and Link was shrugging off his suit coat.

“Knock knock,” Rhett called as he walked into the room.

“Rhett!” He exclaimed, running into his arms Rhett hugged him tightly and placed a kiss atop his head. “Did I sound okay? I was so nervous! This recital was worth like 60% of my grade and I really didn’t want to screw it up.”

“You sounded amazing, Bo. You always do.” He smiled up at Rhett and give his lips a quick peck. “Oh, I almost forgot.” he heard Link gasp quietly as he placed the bouquet of roses in Link’s arms.

“Thanks, man. They’re beautiful.” He stood on his toes and gave Rhett another quick kiss on the cheek, walking back over to his case and sitting the roses on a nearby table. He finished packing his euphonium back into its case and placed in his instrument locker, begrudgingly putting his suit jacket back on as he grabbed the roses Rhett had gotten him and his backpack that was hanging off of a chair.

“Alright, let’s go home.” Rhett nodded, letting Link out of the room first. Once both of them were out, Link locked the room with his key, taking Rhett’s hand into his as they walked out of the school. Link shivered from the sudden change in temperature and closed his jacket up as much as he could.

“Gosh, the temperature’s dropped.”

“Yeah, it’s that snowstorm were about to get.” Link pouted a bit.

“Still mad that it wouldn’t wait until Christmas.” Rhett laughed.

"Now Link, you have to admit that it’s beautiful at night with the snow falling and the Christmas lights glowing everywhere.” Link sighed and looked up at the Christmas tree as they passed by the Rockefeller Center.

“It is beautiful, but I was betting so hard on a white Christmas.” Rhett placed a quick kiss on the side of his temple as they waited for their chance to cross the street.

“We still have a couple of weeks so who knows? We may get lucky.”

They continued to walk for a bit before finally reaching their shared apartment. Rhett pushed the key into the lock, swinging the door open to let Link in first as always. Link ran in and threw his backpack onto the table, grabbing a jar from the cabinet and filling it full of freshwater. He put the roses into the water and sat them on the dining room table yanking his jacket off and attempting to untie his tie, but failing miserably.

"Rhett… help.” He whined fumbling, with the light blue fabric around his neck. Rhett chuckled and took it into his hands, untying every little knot until none remained.

“There you go, Darlin’.” He yanked the fabric off his neck and sighed with relief.

“I hate tuxes.” He mumbled. Rhett reached up to Link’s matching vest and unbuttoned it, sliding it off his shoulders. Link smirked. “I think I can change my own clothes, Rhett.” He let out a low chuckle and began unbuttoning his long-sleeved white shirt.

“What? You don’t like this?” Rhett whispered next to his ear, planting a small and gentle kiss on his neck. Link let out a quiet hum of approval, Rhett smirking on his skin as he continued to nip on the junction between his shoulder and neck. Suddenly, there were hands on his chest pushing him away.

“What is it, Darlin’?” Rhett asked, scanning Link’s face to see if he could read him.

“Can we just make some hot chocolate and watch Home Alone on the couch? I’ve had a long day and I’m not really up for sex tonight.” Rhett sighed and kissed his forehead before answering him with a gentle smile.

“Of course we can, Bo.” Not long after that, Rhett and Link and were lying on the couch wrapped up in a thick, fuzzy blanket while sipping on their hot chocolate. After they finished their drinks, Rhett took their mugs to the dishwasher and laid back down on the couch with Link, pulling him up to his chest and wrapping arms tightly around him. Link’s eyes soon closed and his breathing turned into slow and steady snores. He had fallen asleep. Rhett continued to play with his hair as he slept, turning his attention back to the movie. It wasn’t long before Rhett fell asleep as well, the city that never sleeps continuing on without them.

#mythical secret santa 2019 #rating: T #gift swap #submission #type: fic #rhink

[arissayoo]

Neverland -> [Ateez AU]

Chapter 2

Genre: Thriller, Horror, Fantasy, Lostboys!Ateez

Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence and dark/horror themes, fem!reader, cursing

Summary: As you work to gain the trust of the lost boys, you hear of the various magic powers that are found within the island, fueling your desire to return home. The horrors lurking within Neverland continue when you receive a cryptic note containing information on the lost boys’ dark secret, leaving you questioning if you sided up with your worst nightmare. 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Seonghwa led me through the dark narrow cave, the smell of sulfur invading my nose.

“God, how do you guys live with this smell?” I covered my nose. This was also kind of a small place to be housing eight boys.

“Oh, yeah I forgot to mention that, sorry. It covers up our scent. Our base is not that far up.” He continued walking, stepping to the side to avoid the large body of water. We turned a corner, the darkness disappearing as sunlight poured in from the ceiling. 

“Woah.” I gasped, my mouth hanging open in awe.

“This is it, welcome to The Den,” Seonghwa announced, chuckling at my reaction.

The narrow walls of the cave opened into a large dome shape, the expanse of space occupied by a large house that had been built into the cave. My mouth was still gaping like a fish when I realized Seonghwa was already at the front door. I ran to catch up with him, admiring the detailing of the structure.

“I would offer to give you a tour but I’m worried about your injuries.” Seonghwa looked at me worriedly. The blood from my cuts had mixed with dirt and dried on my legs.

“Oh right.” My voice showed my disappointment. This place was so beautifully crafted, the cave walls serving as the basic structure of the house. “How did you guys find a place like this?”

“We didn’t. Yunho built it with some help from us of course.”

“WHAT? You mean to say you built this whole house out of a cave by yourselves?” I exclaimed, my voice echoing throughout the living room. Seonghwa stayed silent leading me into a room on the first floor.

“This is my room, it doubles as an infirmary.” He opened the door, gesturing for me to sit in the corner. “I need you to place your legs on this, and I'm just going to feel for any, uh .......swelling.”

I just watched as he placed his hand on my shin, not touching any of my cuts but barely grazing the messy blood-dirt that dripped down my leg. I couldn’t feel the pain earlier due to the adrenaline rush, but now I could feel a stinging sensation from the cuts on my legs. Seonghwa closed his eyes, breathing in slowly before opening them again, his irises glowing a bright green.

“What the?!” I shrieked, trying to squirm away. Seonghwa’s hand clamped around my leg holding it in place.

“Stay still.” It was more of a growl than the normal voice I was used to. I whimpered in fear, his hold too strong for me to even consider moving. With one blink, his eyes went back to normal and he let go, turning to gather supplies. “Thankfully you managed to not cut yourself on any Manchineel trees. There's just a little venom from the Khanin’s claws, that’s why you feel stinging.”

“Excuse me, care to explain what the fuck just happened?” I backed into the corner, suddenly much more defensive from earlier.

“I’ll explain but not until I finish cleaning up your leg. You need to hear this anyway.” He brought over disinfecting supplies and started cleaning my leg, with me flinching with every one of his movements.

Even though I was on edge and scared about what happened, I felt waves of calm wash over me. Seonghwa was wiping my leg with soft strokes to get all the dirt and blood off without hurting me. A large gash running from my knee to the middle of my shin was outlined in a dark red, small scrapes scattered around it. 

“This will help with any lingering venom in the cuts,” he spread a green mixture over my legs before wrapping them in white gauze. He gave me some in a jar for the cuts on my chest and packed the rest of the supplies up, locking them away.

“So, now can you explain the whole demon eye thing?” 

“It has nothing to do with demons. The island we are on now, Neverland, is....magical to put it lightly. Everyone here as far I can tell acquires unique powers shortly after arriving. That’s how we were able to build this house. My power is herbalist, I can essentially see and understand illnesses or injuries and know what herbs and plants will help. That's why my eyes were glowing.” 

“So all of you can do that?” I questioned, not really understanding what he said. 

“Like I said, everyone has their own powers that are different from each other. My eyes are the only ones that can glow.”

“You really expect me to believe that? And that I somehow woke up in a children’s fairy tale?”

“It’s not a fairy tale Y/N. How else would you explain any of this? You think we all abandoned our lives for some fairy tale.” He raised his voice. I was too stunned to speak. “You will eventually discover your powers, just as the rest of us did. Neverland has a weird way of incorporating your normal life outside of here into the powers you get.”

“How-” I cut myself short, not able to wrap my head around this information. 

“In the future, try to avoid the Khanins. They are shapeshifters that hunt the humans on this island. They will tear you to shreds if they get the chance. Also, you need to learn our rules if you are going to stay with us-”

Seonghwa paused when I abruptly stood up. “I-I’m sorry. This is just too much to comprehend right now. I need some air.” I ran out the door, trying to follow the route that Seonghwa had took when he brought me here.

Until I was on the beach. The beach that looked completely normal, so similar to the one close by my house. I realized it would be a while before I got to see that beach or go home for the matter. I closed my eyes, trying to calm the rush of emotions. Ever since I got here all I’ve been is confused and lost. I thought getting information would be helpful but it only ended up disorienting me more than I already was. Just the idea of being on Neverland, surrounded by magical creatures and man-eating monsters was enough to make a normal person go mad. It was enough to make the line between reality and fantasy in my mind a blurry mess, teetering on the unknown fear of why I was the one in this nightmare.

A rustle in the bushes snapped me out of the thoughts in my head, the hairs on the back of my neck doing handstands. Don’t walk towards it Y/N. Don’t go investigate. I took a step back, fearing the worst.

Another rustle. 

A high-pitched wail sounded, the birds in the surrounding trees flying out to escape whatever danger that was behind them. I covered my face, turning around to run the opposite direction and bumping into something.

“Watch it, Wendy, wouldn't want to get in our way,” A distorted voice rang into my ears. I looked up, the sun blocking their features. I lifted my hand to block the sunlight, seeing San’s face take an animalistic look, eyes wild as he pushed me aside. He twirled his blade in his fingers, devilishly licking his lips. 

Another rustle sounded before a large Khanin ran towards us at full speed. My heart stopped as I struggled to run away, tripping and landing on my back. The Khanin’s gaze focused on me, running up to attack. Before I could scream, San appeared in front of me, slashing its throat and covering me in blood. 

“Did you see that Yeosang?” San laughed, licking the blood off of his blade. The other boy pushed out from the trees, high-fiving the crazy blonde. I watched, still on the sand with my eyes wide. It wasn’t until I got up and reached up to my face, smearing the blood there that Yeosang noticed my presence. 

“You got a little blood on your face Y/N.” His hands gestured to his face.

“I almost got killed!” I screamed, facing a shocked Yeosang and a smug San. The sky became dark and I could hear thunder rolling close. My luck was officially gone.

“I told you to move. No one said to get in our way.” San walked over to the beast, pulling out an arrow from its back. I huffed, beyond pissed at him. 

“I didn’t know you were going to be out here,” Yeosang came up, offering me a rag. I took it, turning and walking away from them. I couldn't stay here with them much longer. Between San and the information Seonghwa told me I was so emotionally tired. I missed my life back home and unless I figured out a plan to get back I would be stuck here. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, threatening to fall. I wiped my face, the wind picking up and causing me to cry harder. 

“It's always fucking raining on this island,” I sobbed, falling to my knees. The rag, loosely held in my hands flew away, falling against a gathering of rocks. Great. I wiped my eyes, standing up and walking over to them. I bent down to reach for the rag, my eyes catching on a piece of paper jammed between two of the rocks, fluttering in the wind. My eyebrows scrunched together, grabbing the paper carefully so it would not rip.

Playing with the enemy is not why you are here Wendy.

I turned the note over, looking for some sort of clue of its sender. There was nothing other than the small writing on the front, making me question whether this was a prank. Maybe it was and this was just a meaningless piece of paper. I went to toss it, before catching the black ink scrawled on the back. “Huh? I swear this was blank.”

They are hiding something from you.

I wiped the font, smearing the fresh ink against my fingertip. I gasped, dropping the paper as I stared at my fingers. My head whipped around checking for signs of anyone, scanning the bushes in the distance. I scrambled to my feet, running back to the only place I knew. 

*

The stench of sulfur stung my nose as I pounded on the front door. The sun was beginning to set, eliminating most of the light within the cave. My heart was pounding in my ears and I prayed that the door would open. 

“Y/N!” Hongjoong opened the door, hurrying me inside. “What’s wrong, did something happen?”

I looked around, trying to even my erratic breathing. “I-“

They are hiding something from you.

“I thought someone was following me.” I let out a nervous breath, “but it turns out it was just a bird.”

“Are you sure?” He didn’t believe me. I wouldn’t either honestly, but I needed a moment alone to process everything.

“Yeah, I think I’m just paranoid after today.”

“It’s been a long day. Here I'll show you to the guest room.” He led the way up the stairs to the room at the end of the second floor. “Just let me know if you need anything, my room is right next door.”

I nodded, quickly entering the room and locking the door behind me. I needed to figure out what was happening and fast. Everything that has happened today and how the guys have treated me was all that I could think about. I didn’t know that much about them, making it harder to not be suspicious.

Playing with the enemy. Were they the enemy? I didn't find it hard to believe after how I saw them act today, especially San. 

But they were the enemy of who? And how was I supposed to trust this person when I couldn’t even trust the people I was currently living with?

I needed time alone from everyone and everything that would hinder me from forming a plan to escape this island. I was not certain I was safe here, for now choosing to leave this house. It would inconvenience me greatly but I couldn’t risk staying here with a group that was harboring a dark secret and unwilling to share the truth.

I waited for in my room for hours, until the house became silent. I opened my door, checking the hall before trying to walk down the stairs quietly. The lights were off, save for a dimly-lit lamp by the door, cloaking me as I tiptoed through the house. Hopefully, the boys wouldn’t care and I could leave quickly without having to outrun them. As I made my way to the front door, I noticed there was just a simple lock, making my escape that much easier.

I slowly turned the bolt, reaching for the handle when two knives landed an inch from both my hand and head. I screamed, turning around to face all eight boys staring at me coldly.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fantasy #ateez au #lostboys!ateez #choi san #choi jongho #song mingi #jung wooyoung #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #neverland #neverland au #kpop fanfiction #kpop writing #ateez neverland

[lewiscarrollsocietynorthamerica]

CHAPTER I. Down the Rabbit-Hole

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, ‘and what is the use of a book,’ thought Alice ‘without pictures or conversations?’

So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.

There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, ‘Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!’ (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge.

In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.

The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well.

Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what was going to happen next. First, she tried to look down and make out what she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures hung upon pegs. She took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed; it was labelled ‘ORANGE MARMALADE’, but to her great disappointment it was empty: she did not like to drop the jar for fear of killing somebody, so managed to put it into one of the cupboards as she fell past it.

‘Well!’ thought Alice to herself, ‘after such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of tumbling down stairs! How brave they’ll all think me at home! Why, I wouldn’t say anything about it, even if I fell off the top of the house!’ (Which was very likely true.)

Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end! ‘I wonder how many miles I’ve fallen by this time?’ she said aloud. ‘I must be getting somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would be four thousand miles down, I think—’ (for, you see, Alice had learnt several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and though this was not a very good opportunity for showing off her knowledge, as there was no one to listen to her, still it was good practice to say it over) ‘—yes, that’s about the right distance—but then I wonder what Latitude or Longitude I’ve got to?’ (Alice had no idea what Latitude was, or Longitude either, but thought they were nice grand words to say.)

Presently she began again. ‘I wonder if I shall fall right through the earth! How funny it’ll seem to come out among the people that walk with their heads downward! The Antipathies, I think—’ (she was rather glad there was no one listening, this time, as it didn’t sound at all the right word) ‘—but I shall have to ask them what the name of the country is, you know. Please, Ma’am, is this New Zealand or Australia?’ (and she tried to curtsey as she spoke—fancy curtseying as you’re falling through the air! Do you think you could manage it?) ‘And what an ignorant little girl she’ll think me for asking! No, it’ll never do to ask: perhaps I shall see it written up somewhere.’

Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began talking again. ‘Dinah’ll miss me very much to-night, I should think!’ (Dinah was the cat.) ‘I hope they’ll remember her saucer of milk at tea-time. Dinah my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There are no mice in the air, I’m afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that’s very like a mouse, you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder?’ And here Alice began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a dreamy sort of way, ‘Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?’ and sometimes, ‘Do bats eat cats?’ for, you see, as she couldn’t answer either question, it didn’t much matter which way she put it. She felt that she was dozing off, and had just begun to dream that she was walking hand in hand with Dinah, and saying to her very earnestly, ‘Now, Dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever eat a bat?’ when suddenly, thump! thump! down she came upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and the fall was over.

Alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment: she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another long passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it. There was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind, and was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, ‘Oh my ears and whiskers, how late it’s getting!’ She was close behind it when she turned the corner, but the Rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found herself in a long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the roof.

There were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and when Alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to get out again.

Suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid glass; there was nothing on it except a tiny golden key, and Alice’s first thought was that it might belong to one of the doors of the hall; but, alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small, but at any rate it would not open any of them. However, on the second time round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high: she tried the little golden key in the lock, and to her great delight it fitted!

Alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not much larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the passage into the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she longed to get out of that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head through the doorway; ‘and even if my head would go through,’ thought poor Alice, ‘it would be of very little use without my shoulders. Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if I only knew how to begin.’ For, you see, so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that Alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really impossible.

There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at any rate a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this time she found a little bottle on it, (‘which certainly was not here before,’ said Alice,) and round the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words ‘DRINK ME’ beautifully printed on it in large letters.

It was all very well to say ‘Drink me,’ but the wise little Alice was not going to do that in a hurry. ‘No, I’ll look first,’ she said, ‘and see whether it’s marked “poison” or not’; for she had read several nice little histories about children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all because they would not remember the simple rules their friends had taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if you hold it too long; and that if you cut your finger very deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a bottle marked ‘poison,’ it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.

However, this bottle was not marked ‘poison,’ so Alice ventured to taste it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot buttered toast,) she very soon finished it off.

 *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *  *    *    *    *    *    *    *

‘What a curious feeling!’ said Alice; ‘I must be shutting up like a telescope.’

And so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going through the little door into that lovely garden. First, however, she waited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further: she felt a little nervous about this; ‘for it might end, you know,’ said Alice to herself, ‘in my going out altogether, like a candle. I wonder what I should be like then?’ And she tried to fancy what the flame of a candle is like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember ever having seen such a thing.

After a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going into the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! when she got to the door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she went back to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach it: she could see it quite plainly through the glass, and she tried her best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery; and when she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing sat down and cried.

‘Come, there’s no use in crying like that!’ said Alice to herself, rather sharply; ‘I advise you to leave off this minute!’ She generally gave herself very good advice, (though she very seldom followed it), and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes; and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having cheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself, for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people. ‘But it’s no use now,’ thought poor Alice, ‘to pretend to be two people! Why, there’s hardly enough of me left to make one respectable person!’

Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words ‘EAT ME’ were beautifully marked in currants. ‘Well, I’ll eat it,’ said Alice, ‘and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I’ll get into the garden, and I don’t care which happens!’

She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, ‘Which way? Which way?’, holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way.

So she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake.

 *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *  *    *    *    *    *    *    *

#alice in wonderland #alicesadventuresinwonderland #lewis carroll #down the rabbit hole #white rabbit #literature

[tiddytrashcan]

Everytime I think I understand the degree to which Ursula K. LeGuin Got It™ she hits me with another life revelation

#i just finished the other wind and when i tell you how beautifully jarring it is #to have someone put into words almost precisely how you feel about life and death and the meaning in both #and this is something i was just like reflecting on today thinking about how j was brought up #and how my belief of how to live a meaningful life and what may happen upon death changed as i did #and how i feel so much the better for it #and then here come ms leguin with another fucking homerun that knocked me to my knees crying #like it was just so poignantly beautiful and felt like everything i had felt #in any case this is your push to go read earthsea #earthsea #the other wind

[bthenoise]

Here Are The 10 Most Underrated Releases of 2019 So Far

Well, well, well. It’s that time of the year, folks. That time when music publications are essentially obligated to put out some sort of mid-year “Best Of” list.

This year, instead of doing some long-winded top 50 whatever list talking about all the records you already love from Bring Me The Horizon, The Maine, I Prevail, Motionless In White, Periphery, Frank Iero, Emarosa, Chon, Amon Amarth, American Football, Angel Du$t, PUP and more, instead we decided to take this opportunity to highlight the underrated albums we really think more people need to check out.   

Now before we start, let us explain our concept of what “underrated” means. If we walked up to you and a group of friends and asked, “Hey, have you guys checked out the new ____ yet? It’s incredible,” and your response was “Who?” or maybe, “I didn’t even know they were still a band anymore,” that’s what we consider underrated – the idea that more people should know about how fantastic something is instead of the new Post Malone or whatever.

To check out our picks for the 10 albums we think need a little more time in the spotlight, be sure to see below.  

Employed To Serve - Eternal Forward Motion

If you’ve yet to succumb to the greatness of Employed To Serve, welcome to the party. With the release of their new head-jarring Spinefarm Records release Eternal Forward Motion, there is zero doubt in our minds that this is the start of a promising and long-lasting career for the UK noisemakers. After just one listen to the ear-splitting breakdown on “Dull Ache Behind My Eyes,” you’ll agree with us too.     

Notable Tracks: “Eternal Forward Motion,” “Force Fed,” “Reality Filter” 

Whitechapel - The Valley

Usually when it comes to deathcore, artistic storytelling generally isn’t the first thing you think of. But with Whitechapel’s latest LP, it’s difficult to find any other way to describe their masterful album The Valley. While the idea of Phil Bozeman showing off his clean singing voice might turn some Whitechapel fans away, the true listeners will tell you this is easily Whitechapel at their most diverse and absolute best.    

Notable Tracks: “When A Demon Defiles A Witch,” “Brimstone,” “Third Depth”   

Secret Band - LP2

If you’re wondering how a new album from Secret Band may have slipped under your radar, that’s probably because it was released as, well, a secret. So before you beat yourself up for not knowing that Dance Gavin Dance’s Jon Mess, Will Swan and Matt Mingus unleashed yet another sludge-tastic banger under their covert side project, instead, press play and enjoy the powers of Secret Band. 

Notable Tracks: “Bloomer,” “Lightning,” “Black Dolphin” 

Cursed Earth - Deathbed Sessions

Seven tracks. Eight guest features. What is there not to like about Cursed Earth’s new hardcore mixtape Deathbed Sessions? Following the departure of frontwoman Jazmine Luders, the Australian act has enlisted some of our scene’s best vocalists to construct a pulverizing bone-shattering release that is sure to get your blood pumping and your fists moving.  

Notable Tracks: “Fear,” “Torch,” “Tyranny Forever”  

Unimagined - Friendless

We’ve said it once and we’ll say it again: If you’re in need of new music from Pierce The Veil and realize it’s not coming anytime soon, Standby Records’ Unimagined is the perfect band for you. Purposely stepping in as a post-hardcore placeholder for all in need of something like 2010′s Selfish Machines, Unimagined truly let their Warped Tour-friendly influences run wild all over their debut five-track EP Friendless.     

Notable Tracks: “Too Dead To Dance,” “Something Borrowed, Something Blue,” “She Was Scared of Storms” 

Yours Truly - Afterglow

After just one listen to Afterglow, it’s clear Yours Truly has the makings to be the next pop-punk breakout act similar to fellow Australians Stand Atlantic. With the anthemic and infectious “Circles,” “I Can’t Feel” and “High Hopes,” frontwoman Mikaila Delgado will have you singing along just like the first time you heard Paramore’s All We Know Is Falling. 

Notable Tracks: “Circles,” “I Can’t Feel,” “High Hopes” 

Free Throw - What’s Past Is Prologue 

If Free Throw's What’s Past Is Prologue doesn’t bring a tear to your eye at least once throughout its heartfelt and sincere 12 tracks, there might be something wrong with you. While the album may be masked with humorous references to movies like Step Brothers and Nacho Libre, the band’s latest journey into self-reflection is an eye-opening record that everyone needs to hear.    

Notable Tracks: “Smokes, Let’s Go” “Tail Whip, Struggle” “The Corner’s Dilemma” 

After The Burial - Evergreen

While this album might fall on plenty of people’s “Best Of 2019 So Far” lists, we have it featured as underrated for one reason and one reason only: More people need to listen to After The Burial. It’s that simple. For the fans who get it, you understand the greatness of this band. For the people yet to jump on the Evergreen bandwagon, this is your chance to make up for your mistakes and fully dive into the band’s unmatched musicianship.  

Notable Tracks: “Behold The Crown,” “Exit, Exist,” “In Flux” 

The Damned Things - High Crimes

You might be asking yourself how a record featuring members of Fall Out Boy, Anthrax, Every Time I Die and Alkaline Trio is considered “underrated.” But when it comes to The Damned Things’ first new album in nearly 10 years, we feel as though it still hasn’t garnered enough attention. Serving as the perfect rock revival album opposed to all the copy-and-paste wannabe rock records floating around these days, High Crimes is a beautifully constructed LP from start to finish. While 2010′s Iconoclast laid the foundation for what this supergroup is capable of, the band’s latest absolutely blows the door down leaving endless possibilities.    

Notable Tracks: “Cells,” “Carry A Brick,” “Young Hearts” 

Cokie The Clown - You’re Welcome

Coming in as easily the most depressing record on our list, Fat Mike’s new solo record isn’t for everyone. You’re Welcome isn’t an easy listen (nor is it meant to be) as the NOFX vocalist/bassist dives into some of the deepest and darkest subject matter he has ever covered -- which says a lot considering NOFX’s 35-plus year career. Whether it’s “Swing and a Miss,” “Negative Reel” or “That Time I Killed My Mom,” Cokie The Clown’s latest is as heartwrenching as they come.        

Notable Tracks: “The Queen Is Dead,” “Negative Reel,” “Punk Rock Saved My Life” 

#Best Of #Fat Mike #Employed To Serve #Whitechapel #Secret Band #Cursed Earth #Unimagined #Yours Truly #Free Throw #After The Burial #The Damned Things #Cokie The Clown #NOFX

[moddernallanpoe]

Chapter 1, Down The Rabbit-Hole

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, ‘and what is the use of a book,’ thought Alice ‘without pictures or conversations?’

So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.

There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, ‘Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!’ (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge.

In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.

The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well.

Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what was going to happen next. First, she tried to look down and make out what she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures hung upon pegs. She took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed; it was labelled ‘ORANGE MARMALADE’, but to her great disappointment it was empty: she did not like to drop the jar for fear of killing somebody, so managed to put it into one of the cupboards as she fell past it.

‘Well!’ thought Alice to herself, ‘after such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of tumbling down stairs! How brave they’ll all think me at home! Why, I wouldn’t say anything about it, even if I fell off the top of the house!’ (Which was very likely true.)

Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end! ‘I wonder how many miles I’ve fallen by this time?’ she said aloud. ‘I must be getting somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would be four thousand miles down, I think—’ (for, you see, Alice had learnt several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and though this was not a very good opportunity for showing off her knowledge, as there was no one to listen to her, still it was good practice to say it over) ‘—yes, that’s about the right distance—but then I wonder what Latitude or Longitude I’ve got to?’ (Alice had no idea what Latitude was, or Longitude either, but thought they were nice grand words to say.)

Presently she began again. ‘I wonder if I shall fall right through the earth! How funny it’ll seem to come out among the people that walk with their heads downward! The Antipathies, I think—’ (she was rather glad there was no one listening, this time, as it didn’t sound at all the right word) ‘—but I shall have to ask them what the name of the country is, you know. Please, Ma’am, is this New Zealand or Australia?’ (and she tried to curtsey as she spoke—fancy curtseying as you’re falling through the air! Do you think you could manage it?) ‘And what an ignorant little girl she’ll think me for asking! No, it’ll never do to ask: perhaps I shall see it written up somewhere.’

Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began talking again. ‘Dinah’ll miss me very much to-night, I should think!’ (Dinah was the cat.) ‘I hope they’ll remember her saucer of milk at tea-time. Dinah my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There are no mice in the air, I’m afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that’s very like a mouse, you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder?’ And here Alice began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a dreamy sort of way, ‘Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?’ and sometimes, ‘Do bats eat cats?’ for, you see, as she couldn’t answer either question, it didn’t much matter which way she put it. She felt that she was dozing off, and had just begun to dream that she was walking hand in hand with Dinah, and saying to her very earnestly, ‘Now, Dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever eat a bat?’ when suddenly, thump! thump! down she came upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and the fall was over.

Alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment: she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another long passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it. There was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind, and was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, ‘Oh my ears and whiskers, how late it’s getting!’ She was close behind it when she turned the corner, but the Rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found herself in a long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the roof.

There were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and when Alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to get out again.

Suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid glass; there was nothing on it except a tiny golden key, and Alice’s first thought was that it might belong to one of the doors of the hall; but, alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small, but at any rate it would not open any of them. However, on the second time round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high: she tried the little golden key in the lock, and to her great delight it fitted!

Alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not much larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the passage into the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she longed to get out of that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head through the doorway; ‘and even if my head would go through,’ thought poor Alice, ‘it would be of very little use without my shoulders. Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if I only knew how to begin.’ For, you see, so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that Alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really impossible.

There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at any rate a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this time she found a little bottle on it, (‘which certainly was not here before,’ said Alice,) and round the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words ‘DRINK ME’ beautifully printed on it in large letters.

It was all very well to say ‘Drink me,’ but the wise little Alice was not going to do that in a hurry. ‘No, I’ll look first,’ she said, ‘and see whether it’s marked “poison” or not’; for she had read several nice little histories about children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all because they would not remember the simple rules their friends had taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if you hold it too long; and that if you cut your finger very deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a bottle marked ‘poison,’ it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.

However, this bottle was not marked ‘poison,’ so Alice ventured to taste it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot buttered toast,) she very soon finished it off.

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‘What a curious feeling!’ said Alice; ‘I must be shutting up like a telescope.’

And so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going through the little door into that lovely garden. First, however, she waited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further: she felt a little nervous about this; ‘for it might end, you know,’ said Alice to herself, ‘in my going out altogether, like a candle. I wonder what I should be like then?’ And she tried to fancy what the flame of a candle is like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember ever having seen such a thing.

After a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going into the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! when she got to the door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she went back to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach it: she could see it quite plainly through the glass, and she tried her best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery; and when she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing sat down and cried.

‘Come, there’s no use in crying like that!’ said Alice to herself, rather sharply; ‘I advise you to leave off this minute!’ She generally gave herself very good advice, (though she very seldom followed it), and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes; and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having cheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself, for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people. ‘But it’s no use now,’ thought poor Alice, ‘to pretend to be two people! Why, there’s hardly enough of me left to make one respectable person!’

Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words ‘EAT ME’ were beautifully marked in currants. ‘Well, I’ll eat it,’ said Alice, ‘and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I’ll get into the garden, and I don’t care which happens!’

She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, ‘Which way? Which way?’, holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way.

So she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake.

#alice in wonderland #story #storytelling #we're all mad here

[ambivalentangst]

Our Blossoming Hearts

Another pinch hitter work for @voltron-ss for @mango-fangirl, coming in hot with a klance soulmate au that I’ve had as a WIP for a long time, that this event allowed me to finish! I really hope you enjoy it, this was a pleasure to make!

   Keith knew the story behind why the flowers bloomed on his palms. He was one of the lucky few in the world who had a soulmate. Someone the universe had specially picked out, that would fit with Keith like no other possibly could. Some person that had the unfortunate luck of being stuck with him. If only he could tell whoever made the such beautiful blossoms that they didn’t know who they apparently loved so much. If they did, Keith was sure they wouldn’t care at all. Nobody else ever did.

   Lance loved his soulmate fiercely. Ever since the buds opened on his collarbones with a small prick and a hesitant unfurling of red petals, he had been head over heels for somebody he’d never met. That was just the way it was. Lance always gave his love like that, simple and easy just because he had so much love to share. It was what drew people to him, but who Lance wanted more than anything was the soulmate that made his red flowers, unlike any in the world, grow so full and scarlet and in such abundance that they hung like a halo above his shoulders.

   Keith ripped his flowers from his flesh, slicing them savagely off of his skin day after day. It became routine, the harsh cut of scissors on the stem just above the center of his palm. It stung, just a little since they weren’t really part of him. Still, his soulmate’s love made them grow in just as full the next day. Again, Keith severed them from himself day in and out, one for each hand. It was why he’d taken to wearing the gloves, to hide the crushed petals from the outside world. It was only late at night, just a few hours before the flowers met their demise, that he let them ghost across the skin of his face that he held in his own hands at one foster home or another. It was pathetic and his cheeks burned in shame as he did it, but oh how he adored the gentle tickle of them against his skin. Someone out there loved him, but Keith could not allow himself to hope. It would just hurt more in the end.

   Lance let his flowers grow, drank lots of water and took care of his skin because if that was the fodder they needed to grow strong, then so be it. It never hurt to look good anyways. He wore his flowers like precious jewels draped over a king. Lance certainly felt like one with such treasure. They felt like a shield from the world, and even when tears slipped from his eyes and he cast his eyes down, he was always reminded by that ring of red that there was someone waiting for him. They loved him, and that was enough.

   Keith smothered his flowers beneath leather gloves as he always had, tight and starving them of air that could kill the flowers on others. No matter what Keith tried, by the end of the day he always had full, azure blooms to show for his soulmate’s unending affections.

   When Lance went to the Garrison he refused to trim them. Lance had long ago learned how to bring his most precious possessions back to life after a day crushed beneath clothes, even though the uniforms were tight and his flowers always left an awkward bump in the fabric. So be it. He would not cast off his soulmate’s love. Keith, on the other hand, was reluctantly permitted to wear the gloves.

His latest foster family, the Shiroganes, had their son and the kid who was essentially Keith’s big brother talk with the board and upon explanation they’d let it happen. So, while Lance garnered attention and stories throughout the school for his wreath he proudly wore, Keith hid his away. It was Lance’s flowers that drew his attention, that made him worthy of notice, not their stupid ‘rivalry’. Lance had his shirt off in the common room, preening and grooming his flowers while others pretended not to stare, when Keith walked in and was slammed with the realization that there was someone out there who had enough faith to keep their flowers, to let them grow so fully. Lance didn’t have to hide his for fear of being hurt. Deep within Keith something tore painfully at the sight, and he turned away. It did not even occur to him that his want for love, the love he felt for whoever it was that cared for him so generously is what made that circlet of red on Lance.

Lance continued his studies, working hard to keep up and even harder to keep his flowers in shape. It had always been something he took seriously. He couldn’t bear to part with his flowers, and every time a bud simply fell off with the passage of time, even when others took his place, he mourned. He had all of his fallen petals back home, kept in a jar of wilted love. He began another at the Garrison, though he never told anyone. It was something special, just for him. He was silent and while his flowers were common knowledge, his devotion to them was not as much so.

Keith studied, when he felt like it. He worked and kept an eye on the boy with the soulmate who loved him so. Lance was always in the back of his mind, every time he brought his blade with its glowing symbol down time and time again on his flowers, letting them fall into the trash to be later burned. He’d never kept a single one.

The Kerberos mission sent Keith away. Lance rose to fighter class, but he recognized that it was not his own work that got him there. That saddened him, but he remembered that he was still good, he was still worth love. That was why he had a soulmate, and so with a kiss pressed to the glass he kept old flowers in, he soldiered on.

It was not until Lance was shoved into space that he realized he’d left his soulmate, whoever they were, behind. He was crushed, but there was no time to grieve for love lost in space, He had a war to win, and so he fought.

Keith had never believed he truly had a chance. He’d accepted very early on that all the wonderful stories he’d heard of those who came from horrible lives, but met their soulmate and had everything turn around for them weren’t for him. He knew that all it took was a brushing of their petals. If two people were soulmates, the flowers were supposed to light up, glow with undeniable radiance. Still, it stung to know that he would never have that. Not anymore, if he ever had. Nobody wanted a freak of a soulmate, that wasn’t even human. As Lance took his shirt off to expose his broad shoulders crowned in flowers that bloomed so beautifully, Keith always felt the pain of such joy.

He was the one who found out first.

Lance had fallen asleep on one of the couches in the common room, like he had back at the Garrison. The castle was on the night cycle, and Keith was suddenly hyper aware of the idea that should he want to, he could reach out to touch him. His gloves were tight, strangling the life that wanted so desperately to thrive on his hands, but it wouldn’t be hard. It was irrational, yes. So improbable it was absurd, but yet Keith found his feet taking quick, light steps that brought him to Lance, sleeping so peacefully. He had to know if the one person he knew like him was his. Keith worked his glove off with surprising care for someone who wore them so religiously. The flower was there as always, full and overflowing the skin of his hand. Hesitantly, he reached forward, and let it touch Lance’s.

   Keith clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable disappointment when he opened them. As they cracked open again he let out a sigh of both relief and resigned acceptance. Of course not, Lance was the last person that could possibly be his soulmate. He hated him anyways, so it didn’t matter. Keith was ready to pull away, when he finally saw the glow.

   It threaded through their petals in veiny lines, lit up in a purple light that made Keith’s breath catch in his throat. It was impossible, it couldn’t be, but there it was. Lance’s petals glowed the same violet, threaded through their normal scarlet. Keith stared at his flowers, the same ones that grew every day no matter how he tried to be rid of them.

   Lance loved him. He made those flowers grow faster than the wind could blow, allowed his own to be voluminous and wild on the garden of his body. Keith had cut them day after day, even knowing they’d be back. Keith yanked his hands back. Lance couldn’t know. Lance would never know, because Lance would never want him.

   The glow disappeared as Keith pulled away. After the incident he did not speak with, did not even look at Lance unless he absolutely had to. All he could think of when he did was the way his face had looked in sleep, lips parted peacefully while a violet shock overcame the petals he tended to so diligently. The experience added a special sort of pain to the way his blade severed the blooms, but Keith did not stop. He could never give in, because that would mean he was defeated. That would mean he allowed himself to hope.

   Keith was not expecting his gloves to be destroyed. He had not planned for that, in any sense of the word. Still, he wasn’t exactly ready for a simple resource gathering mission to be on a planet with an acidic atmosphere. Neither had Coran, and therefore while Keith was otherwise fine his gloves were not. The pathetic scraps of not-even-cloth were nothing wearable, and they had no resources on hand to make a suitable replacement. Thus, Keith had a dilemma. He went to Shiro, explaining with buds already half grown at that point in the day, that he needed something to cover them. He did not explain why such matters were so important, but how could he? He knew Shiro would meddle, as big brothers were prone to do. Still, he had nothing for him, and Keith simply took to whittling down his flowers whenever he could. If he could just reduce them to stems, they were much less noticeable. Still, when he trained he didn’t always have time or the energy to stop every hour or so to cut his petals.

   Why was Lance so persistent anyways? It was annoying. Or at least, Keith told himself it was annoying. Nobody needed to know how he laid awake at night, blushing in the dark of his room because suddenly he was hyperaware of everything and anything Lance did. The way he was thrumming with life and beauty, bursting at the seams with it when Keith seemed so dull in comparison. It made him incredibly happy in a clandestine, mortifying way that Keith had never really experienced before. He hated it. In response to that hatred, he trained.

   Lance had noticed that Keith was avoiding him and that admittedly kind of stung because he’d thought they’d been doing better and of course he craved for those violet eyes to look to him with something more than a base tolerance, but he didn’t hold it against him. It really wasn’t that big of a deal, there was no need to be upset. Except of course, Lance was. He tried to stop watching his back fade from sight, always leaving the moment Lance’s foot hit the door. Had he done something wrong? It pained him not to know, especially after how many night he’d spent fantasizing and hoping that maybe, if he got lucky, Keith would be the one for him. Apparently, it wasn’t to be. One moment everything had been fine, and then overnight Keith decided that he wanted nothing to do with him. He knew Keith trained, had laser precision focus that he reverted to in battle, but he also knew that Keith was logging more hours than ever in the training deck. He knew it was because of him too. When he saw him in there, dodging and rolling with the lithe grace of a panther he could only sigh and turn away, flinching as he heard the tell tale sound of gladiator after gladiator falling to his blade.

   At least he had his soulmate though, Lance reasoned. As far as he knew humans were the only one with such a phenomena and though he hated knowing that he’d left his soulmate behind on Earth, it was comforting to know they were safe. He would protect them along with the rest of the universe, and then he would return home. Just like always, Lance tended to his flowers. Somewhere out there someone loved him enough to swath him in scarlet, he only had to wait to find them.

   Lance went to the training deck when he could, but it was getting increasingly harder to do so. Every time Lance poked his head through the doors, there was Keith hacking away at the robots and dutifully Lance would turn away. He didn’t want to be anywhere he wasn’t wanted. It was one of those times he tried and failed to have the room to himself, or at least without Keith, that he saw it. Wrapped tightly around Keith’s bayard in a sharp contrast to its red, were crushed, blue petals. Lance sucked in a sharp breath, and that drew Keith’s attention long enough to give the bot the advantage. It rammed its staff hard into Keith’s chest, sending him back a good couple meters and into the wall. Lance yelped, and called for an end to the training as he rushed over to him.

   “Woah, I’m sorry man I didn’t mean to get you hurt,” he told him, fretting over Keith’s smaller body. It was packed with muscle, hard lines at every turn and Lance ignored the way his cheeks burned at that discovery. Keith lifted a hand to wave him off, Lance’s hand braced against his back to help him sit up.

   “It’s fine,” he managed between coughs. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” Lance bit his lip, ignoring the sting from previous times he’d done such a thing.

   “If you’re sure,” he ceded reluctantly, helping Keith to his feet. Now that the danger had passed, Lance was able to be properly enamored with the blossoms on Keith’s palms again. He grinned, taking his wrist to hold his hand face up.

   “These are gorgeous. You didn’t tell me you had a soulmate,” he complained, gently tracing the outline of each individual petal. Keith stuttered in his response, his hand tense beneath Lance’s touch.

   “I-It wasn’t important,” he protested while Lance hummed his surprise. He marveled at how soft they were under his touch, touching one to his cheek.

   “They’re gorgeous!” he exclaimed, and Keith felt his heart melt at how soft Lance’s face looked against the blossoms he unknowingly brought to life. Keith laughed a little awkwardly, and did his best to remain calm.

   “Thanks, I guess. Not my work, anyways,” he told him. Lance only laughed, and Keith felt his breath catch in his throat at the way he tossed his head back a little while his blue eyes sparkled. This was his soulmate, and Lance didn’t even know it.

   “Yeah but they’re still so pretty. I’ve only ever seen a few people with them, and they’re so full.” Lance’s flowers were forming a bulge in his shirt, and though Keith could understand precisely why Lance much preferred not wearing a shirt, he was glad he had to to be decent, or Keith would’ve been a goner. His gaze fell on the flowers again.

   “It’s too bad you always crush them beneath your gloves. Or, well, used to I guess. You don’t really get to do that anymore,” he mused, before his grip tightened on Keith and a smile lit up his face.

   “We should do some skincare. I know you’re a little dry and I have just the thing for-” Keith shut down, and yanked his hand away quickly.

   “No, none of that,” he snapped, and tried to ignore the guilt he felt at seeing Lance visibly deflate. It was far too risky to even allow himself to think on that, when they could so easily make contact and then Lance would know. Keith couldn’t have that. “I-I don’t like that, sorry. Just not in the mood, okay? Maybe some other time.” Lance nodded, his broad shoulders and the halo of red Keith knew to adorn them hunched together.

   “Oh, okay. Have fun training, Keith,” he told him, and then he was brushing past him and he was gone. While Lance cried later in his room despite the love his flowers reminded him of, Keith felt guilt erupt from within him as he cut the growth off. Despite how he’d crushed him, it was as full as ever.

   Then there was the mission, and Keith knew everything was truly over for him.  He was done for, finished about the second Lance yanked him by the collar and shoved him in what appeared to be a utility closet to hide while masses of sentries crashed by. He could feel Lance’s hot breath against his neck, clamping a hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t cry out. He bit his fingers and with a hiss he was released.

   “What was that for?” Lance growled, and Keith wished there was light so he could glare and Lance and have the message be received.

   “For shoving me, you idiot,” he snapped, and Lance scoffed.

   “I’m sorry, would you rather me have left you out there for the sentries?” Keith grumbled, but didn’t deny his point.

   “It sounds like they’re gone, anyways. Let’s get out of here.” Keith reached forward to push on the door, but when he pressed, nothing happened. He pushed a few more times, palms slamming into the cold metal. It didn’t budge. Lance sighed.

   “Let me try it, you’re not doing it right,” he told him. Keith was irritated, but he stepped away. Lance banged around and made as much noise as Keith had, but again, nothing happened.

   “I’m not doing it right?” Keith mocked. Lance let out a huff of irritation.

   “I had a fair chance, alright? Now how do we get out of here? I might be able to shoot the lock off, but I can’t see two feet in front of me, and you’ll be even more useless if I hit you by accident. Keith was indignant at that, but he fumed in silence. Fueling the argument would do him no good. Lance shifted around. At the very least there was enough room for that to be comfortable in wherever they were. He ran his hands along the wall looking for a lightswitch, but all remained dark. Lance cursed under his breath. Keith didn’t know how long they’d been locked away for, but he did know that it was long enough to have the team start to be worried. Their comms weren’t working for some reason, perhaps the signal was blocked in the closet. Keith didn’t know, but he did know he was going to have a problem if they didn’t get out soon. It was then, as Lance brushed past him in the dark, that he realized he had a solution.

   Keith instantly shot down the idea. No, no, no. No, absolutely not. He was not going to throw out the fact that he and Lance were soulmates now just so that they could escape. That was irrational and wrong and such a horrible idea he could barely stand it. Still, what choice did they have? Their teammates were waiting on them, and they needed to go. With a resigned sigh and fear that climbed in his chest, Keith breathed out a command.

   “Lance, I need to see your flowers.” Lance hummed, banging on something or other in the room. He was still in pursuit of a switch.

   “Now’s not really the time, Keith. Besides, you can’t see shit in here. The lighting is absolutely awful, really. Later.” Keith had to resist the urge to reach over and strange him.

   “Just get them out, Lance,” he snarled. Lance complained and still didn’t appear to understand, but he did as told. Keith rolled back his suit to expose his hands with a grimace. Lance already knew about the flowers, and Keith could feel them, crushed and sweaty on his palms. He fumbled in the darkness until he made contact, and like before, after a moment of pause the light that threaded through them was enough to illuminate both their faces. Keith heard a gasp from Lance, and he had to fight to keep his hands from balling into fists that would disguise the connection there.

   “Just get us out of here,” he murmured lowly. He tried to fight the tears that threatened to rise. He never wanted Lance to know. He hated that he did, he hated that he knew because now he’d have to tell Keith that he didn’t want him. Even if Keith cut his own flowers off, he cherished them more than anything. He just wanted someone to love him, and Lance certainly wouldn’t. When Lance got his bearings, he tried to protest.

   “Keith, I’m-” He cut him off again, louder this time and each word was carefully filed into a stinging point.

    “Get. Us. Out.”

   Lance did not argue.

   Keith hurried away from Lance at the castle before he could even try to talk to him. He ran and hid in his room for hours, craning his ears for sound, or rather the lack of. He wanted to know if it was safe to go out. Still, eventually there came a knock at the door, and a tentative voice called out for him.

   “Keith? Keith, are you in there?” Keith, of course, didn’t respond. He sunk deeper in the mound of covers he’d made for himself, as if by doing so he could block out the sound of his soulmate. As it was, he could feel his whole body tingling with Lance’s proximity. His bed also creaked, loudly, and gave him away. Outside, Keith could hear Lance’s sigh.

   “Keith, we need to talk. How did you even know we were soulmates? It was a good strategy to get us out, but we can’t pretend that nothing happened.” Keith’s low, raspy voice that had been wrung out as he cried responded,

   “Yes we can. Go away, Lance.”

   There was silent, and then an unfamiliar sizzling sound and the door slid open. Keith poked his eyes up above his blankets, watching Lance stride in.

   “How did you get in?” he demanded to know. Lance tossed him a little, strange gadget that he had gotten from god only knew where. By that, Keith assumed it was Pidge’s.

   “Hunk was poking around in Pidge’s room and found this. I meant to give it back, but it’s kinda handy.” Keith scowled.

   “Maybe for you.” Lance had the shame to at least blush at that.

   “Yeah, sorry, but what was I supposed to do? You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, Keith. I thought we were doing okay, that we were getting closer. Is there something wrong with me? Do you,” he began, and Keith’s heart twisted painfully because his voice sounded so small and hurt and it was because of him, “Do you not want me as your soulmate?” Keith exploded, standing up quickly.

   “No! No, not at all. I-” he cleared his throat, and looked away, embarrassed. “I thought you wouldn’t want me, so I didn’t want to burden you with that knowledge.” Lance blinked in surprise.

   “You thought I wouldn’t want you?”

   Keith looked down, a scarlet stain to his cheeks.

   “I was skeptical, okay? Nobody ever has before. Are you saying you do?” Lance looked at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world, and he put his face in his hands in exasperation.

   “I’ve only been pining after you since the Garrison,” he mumbled dejectedly, and Keith laughed. He hadn’t been expecting anything like that, and it made him beam.

   “You’re not bad yourself,” he mumbled, and Lance grinned just as widely, displaying the smile that made Keith’s heart go all funny in his chest.

   “Yeah?”

   “Yeah.”

   Lance reached out and took Keith’s hand, lacing their fingers together while his blue eyes gleamed happily.

   “Good, because if I had to deal with your mood for any longer, I was gonna lose it,” he admitted. Keith laughed, and though Lance was pressing the petals on his palms messily against his skin, all was well. They’d gotten lost in the hedges, but they managed to find their way.

#klance #keith #lance #klangst #voltronss2k17 #pining #ambivalentlangst #ambi exchanges

[oopsbirdficced]

Anonymous asked: RhadaKano #34 (“If you keep looking at me like that we won't make it to a bed.”), please <3

(AU set in Atlantis, because I can excuse my own historical inaccuracy slash care less about it if it's set in a completely fictional place. I had the hardest time picking a setting for this one, anon.)

[Read More]

Rhadamanthys, high priest of the largest temple in Atlantis of Hades, Lord of the Underworld, has a problem. His lesser priests are shameless in teasing him about it. Sylphid and Valentine, disgustingly adorable couple that they are, are particularly fixated upon it.

"So, mighty Wyvern, are you still pining for your Sea Dragon today, or have you decided to man up and seduce him yet?” Sylphid saunters up to him, already kitted out for the Rite of Spring.

"Shut up, Sylphid,” he growls, but the other man just laughs.

"Valentine has a new toga for you, to help you look your best for him,” Sylphid smiles winningly. Rhadamanthys is exhausted, having just finished up the rites he was responsible for in preparation for the Rite of Spring, glad that Aiacos is handling their part in the ceremonial part of the festival. He admits having a fresh toga already selected for him is nice.

"Very well,” he grumbles, and Sylphid whisks him away to throw him to the tender mercies of Valentine.

They vanish on him when they actually get to the festival, but he's tired, so he doesn't care. Until he turns a flower-encrusted corner and bumps into the very man he Is definitely not trying to avoid.

"Kanon,” he greets, trying not to notice how beautifully the flowers braided into his hair and wreathing his head in a crown set off his golden mane and golden skin. Bright blue eyes flash with wicked humor.

"Rhadamanthys, well don't you look a moment away from falling flat on your face. Here, have some wine.” Kanon pours some wine from the skin he's carrying into a clay cup, and presses it into his hands. Rhadamanthys tries not to feel embarrassed or flustered, and accepts it with grace, drinking deeply.

"That's a fine wine. Where did you find it?” He asks, passing the cup back after delicately wiping where his mouth touched. Kanon laughs.

"I got it from the priests of Dionysus, where else?” He claps Rhadamanthys’s shoulder. “Late ritual?” He says, and it sounds commiserating. Rhadamanthys isn't sure where this sudden camaraderie is springing from, but he likes it, surprising though it be.

"Yes, I was up several hours before the sun, completing the rites of departure. A solemn ceremony of mourning.” He explains simply. Kanon is a priest of Poseidon, after all, and doesn't need to know all the duties of a priest of Hades. Kanon nods.

“Well, there's more wine if you need it. And there's rumor stirring that Persephone’s priestesses and Dionysus’s priests are arranging an orgy in Persephone’s sacred glade. Spring rituals, right?” He chuckles, and Rhadamanthys eyes him thoughtfully.

"Are you planning to attend?” He asks, aiming for casual and landing squarely in rumbling suggestion as he reaches out and catches a free lock of golden hair, winding it about his finger. Kanon’s eyes fall half-lidded as he regards Rhadamanthys with heavy intent.

"Unless you make me a better offer. I hear tell they call you Wyvern, much like they call me Sea Dragon. Why is that, Rhadamanthys?” He purrs, and his mouth curls in a wicked smirk. Rhadamanthys steps closer, pulling on that lock of hair, and this close he sees he's actually taller than the Sea Dragon, which pleases him viscerally.

"Are you sure you can handle it, golden boy,” he murmurs, dark and smoky and laden with promise.

"Well, if you keep looking at me like that we won't make it to a bed.” Kanon drawls, saucy and smirking. Rhadamanthys bares his teeth in a slow smile. He's been at the festival a while now, has picked up a few things. Including a blessed jar of oil. They're giving them away, after all. Kanon’s wearing a chiton, instead of a toga today, and it doesn't quite reach his knees, the tease. They walk with tension sparking deliciously between them, finishing Kanon’s skin of wine, and the brew is definitely Dionysian in nature. Kanon seems bound and determined to undress Rhadamanthys before they even get to one of their houses. Rhadamanthys pushes him into his house just as he manages to unwrap the folds, and Rhadamanthys just barely catches his purse before it falls with his clothes.

He's barefoot, as is proper on one of Persephone’s holy days. He unties his loincloth and relishes in the way Kanon’s eyes go dark with lust. He pulls the vial free and wets his fingers, pushing Kanon up against the wall with his body, pressing a thigh between his until the priest of Poseidon obediently spreads his legs. He pushes up Kanon’s chiton, and somehow isn't surprised when he isn't wearing a loincloth. He presses his fingers in one at a time, slow and ruthless as Kanon bucks and whines and claws at the wall, swearing at him viciously. Finally he pulls his fingers free and slicks his cock, lining up.

"Ready?” He growls, and Kanon presses back against him.

"I've been ready, Rhada,” he growls, and Rhadamanthys smirks, before driving fully into him, quick enough to make the blond scream for him. “Fuck, Rhadamanthys!” He wails, clutching at the wall. Rhadamanthys takes that as a suggestion and sets the pace quick and deep. Kanon is hot and tight around him, despite ample preparation, and the desperate noises he makes are music to his ears.

Kanon comes with a cry that may have once been Rhadamanthys’s name, Rhadamanthys’s hand wrapped around his cock and Rhadamanthys’s cock piercing his body deeply. Rhadamanthys spills soon after, milked by Kanon’s orgasm, biting at the exposed golden flesh of Kanon’s shoulder. He lowers them gently to the floor, nuzzling Kanon behind the ear, still deep within him. Kanon lets out a shaky, satisfied sigh, melting back into Rhadamanthys’s grip.

#gemini kanon #wyvern rhadamanthys #radakano #saint seiya #rhadakanon #fanfiction #alternate universe #fanfiction requests #smut #drabble

[chininirisart]

Backfire | iii: Morning > On FF.Net and AO3

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan Pairing: Levi/Mikasa Ackerman | RivaMika Genres: General/Romance Universe: Canon divergent AU Warning/Notes: in which I overshare Status: In-progress Summary: To destroy the evidences, they must join the Survey Corps and bond with Humanity’s Strongest.

Levi wakes up earlier than usual, the rising sun outside begins lightening the dark atmosphere of the room and rouses him from sleep. Slowly, he sits up and glances around the room covered in penumbra, trying to see if Furlan is awake, but it seems that everyone is still asleep. He is quiet as he climbs down from the top bunker and grabs his new set of clothes, his uniform, and heads out the room, trekking his way to the communal showers to start his day. Torches are still lit in the hallways, illuminating the path he needs to take, passing by closed door after closed door of shared rooms.

He is quick to shower, making use of the empty bathroom as it gives him a renewed sense of privacy after spending only a day surrounded by so many people and sharing a bedroom with other three. It is not as if back in the underground they had a room for each, and it was fine sharing a bedroom with Furlan, but too much people in one space was deeply unsettling. Levi is a man that enjoys being alone, and if there is someone else with him, he enjoys it when it is quiet. It is easy to hide in the slums from wandering eyes and gossiping mouths, but here in the headquarters there are too many soldiers that are much too curious and not so subtle.

Running a towel through his hair to dry the excess water, he changes into the clothes he was given and throws the damp cotton piece over his shoulder before leaving the bathroom. The corridors are still and quiet at the crack of dawn with him being the only one wandering about. Maybe if given the opportunity, they can use this time of the day to search Erwin’s office; he keeps the thought stored in a corner of his mind so he can tell it to his friends later when they start planning their course of action, and for the moment being, lets his feet carry him out through one of the many doors of the structure as he tries to find the hanging line he saw on the previous day when he and Furlan were doing their first rounds to know the terrain.

He halts as he turns around the corner, the line just within his sight, but the scene behind it is too captivating. The sun is peeking over the line of the horizon, its light stretching across the grass still beaded with dew, making it shimmer and sparkle under the ever-changing sky. Dark blue gives way to colorful hues, painting the clouds lilac, pink and orange, contrasting beautifully with the dark green pine trees in the distance. He holds his breath for a moment, glad and only dimly aware that he is alone in a time like this, and works to hang his towel on the line without ever looking away from the first sunrise he ever witnessed in his life.

After a moment or two admiring the view, complete with the early riser birds soaring the skies, he inhales deeply through his nose and squares his shoulder, turning around to return to the castle. He resists the urge to look back before he turns around the same bend as before and goes up the few stone steps, letting the cooler air inside make the hairs of his arm stand on end. It is as if he is in a completely different world out there, even when compared to the inside of the castle. The sunrise filled his body with something that he could not quite place and he wondered, in the back of his mind, if his mother would have liked seeing it, too.

Levi slows down to a stop behind the ajar door that leads to the mess hall, feeling another presence on the other side. Quiet as a rat, he pushes it open a little further and peeks inside, clear eyes searching the empty room, and just as they were drawn to her that night, his gaze is pulled in her direction as if by a magnetic force, finding her sitting by one of the windows and eyes darting across a file in her hand.

“Levi.” He mentally curses for letting himself be caught and steps further into the hall, knowing that there is no point in pretending he was never there in the first place. “Activities only start in forty minutes.”

His usually silent footsteps seem to echo among the walls that surround them and he nearly flinches at the sound. “You’re up this early as well.”

“True.” Her lips curl in a ghost of a smile, and he lets his eyes wander over the notepad and pencil to her right, and the teapot and cup made of china set before her. “The difference is that I pulled an all-nighter.” His eyes shoot up to her face taking in the slight shadows under her eyes, shadows that were not there the day before; the silver specs in her irises are dull and that is all he gathers before they disappear behind thin eyelids. “There is one more cup in the sink. Help yourself.”

With a nod, he steps away from her and wanders into the kitchen that smells like burning logs and spices. He washes the cup for good measure, looks around the place suspiciously as if the document can be hidden in a jar of sugar or coffee, and then returns to the hall before she notices he has been gone for too long, quietly claiming the seat across from hers. She reaches for the teapot and pours him some tea, steam wafting up from the amber liquid to his face and bringing the earthy smell of the drink to his nose. He holds the cup by the rim, blows into it and takes a sip, letting the bitter taste spread around his tongue and mouth before swallowing.

Ackerman is just finished refilling her own cup when she speaks. “It’s black tea,” she provides, “you’ll get used to it after a while.” Her finger hooks around the handle and brings the china up to her lips.

Levi has to look away when they purse to blow air to cool it down, feeling a spark of irritation at himself. He has been with women before, but it is bordering the lines of ridiculous how his body seems to react to her and she does nothing out of the ordinary to have his eyes linger on her mouth or her neck securely hidden away by the scarf. If he had not seen her that night, if he had picked someone else to rob, he is sure he would not find himself gravitating towards her.

He has more self-control than this.

“Thanks for not selling the jewels.” She returns the cup to the tabletop after taking a sip, eyes back on the document in her grasp. “They were borrowed.” Her gaze flickers up to him for a moment, “We would be in trouble if you had gotten rid of them.”

He clicks his tongue against his teeth, crossing his arms and resting them on the wood between them. “Should have sold them, then, just to spite you, brat.” She gives him a withering look and he glances out the window to his right. “How long have you been part of the Survey Corps?”

“Seven years.” He counts it in his head, coming to the conclusion that she is twenty three years old. Just four years younger than him, three years younger than Furlan and five years older than Isabel. She is actually young and he is surprised to know someone survived this long in this branch of the military; he decides to disclose this thought to her.

“That’s a pretty damn long time.”

She breathes out a short laugh and flips the page. “Yes, it is. Mike says I’m too stubborn to die.”

“Oh?” Levi makes to drink his tea again but finds that the cup is empty. “Are you?”

Her hand lightly pushes the teapot in his direction in silent permission and she speaks without looking at him. “Very. I had to be actually moved to Captain Erwin’s team for about two years so I could be disciplined.”

His eyes zero on her calm expression, now getting truly interested on the topic. Perhaps approaching her can become a way to get the document they need. “Is that so?”

“Yes, I had a tendency to disobey orders.” Her dark eyes find his blue ones and hold him immobile. “I’d advise you to do what you’re told.”

With a nod, he takes one last sip of his drink and makes to stand. “I don’t take orders well, Ackerman.”

She lightly shakes her head at the lack of title and at his statement, but says something else instead. “You don’t have to leave, breakfast will be served soon.” She eyes the teapot next, “You can drink the rest if you want, and I had tea all night long to keep me awake for another twenty four hours.”

Levi slowly sinks back down on the bench and accepts her proposal. He drinks as he lets his gaze roam over the scenery outside, watches stray leaves being carried away by the wind and the blades of grass dancing to the same rhythm. After a while the sound of pencil on paper fills his ears as she scribbles down on her notepad, sometimes accompanied by the rustle of the document as she flips page after page looking for certain details. The cup is warm on his hands, heating his palms as they wrap around the china. He looks down at it, recalling the one cup he bought long ago and the handle snapped in his hand.

He refilled her cup one last time, nodding at the small smile of thanks she shot in his direction and trying to stamp the reactions sparking inside him. The door of the mess hall opened and in came the cadets on kitchen duty that morning, hands falling away from sleepy eyes and hunched backs straightening as they shifted their body towards the superior presented and saluted. Ackerman looks up at them and nods, eyes soft but lips neutral, and returns to her paperwork as they shuffle inside the kitchen, shooting glances in his direction specifically.

The door closes behind them when she speaks. “They’ll get used to your presence eventually.” She assures as she places the pencil down by her notepad and shifts in her seat. “Give it time.”

“I’m not bothered by it.” The look she gives him clearly says that she doubts his words, but none of them says anything afterwards.

A pair of voices he knows very well approach the room then, pushing the wooden door open. “Ah, here you are.” Isabel says as she stifles a yawn, and when her gaze falls on the woman sitting across from her friend, she scrambles into a salute. “M-Morning, Captain Ackerman!”

Furlan manages to give her a more polished and collected salute as he smiles pleasantly at her. “Good morning, captain.”

“Good morning, Magnolia, Church.” She gathers her things together and stands up, pinching her eyebrows minimally as her bones pop back into place.  

As she reaches for her teacup, his hand appears in her line of vision, blocking her path. “We’ll take care of it.” He says nonchalantly, not looking her in the face.

Her brows shoot up briefly. “Alright,” her hand falls to her side and she takes a step back from the table. “Breakfast should be ready soon.” These are her parting words. With a nod to each, she walks unhurriedly to the door and leaves it ajar as she steps into the hallway and out of sight.

Hearing the noises coming from the kitchen, Furlan only shoots him a suggestive look as he plops down beside him, but a mild glare from Levi is enough for him to back down. Isabel saunters over to the other side of the table and slides onto the bench. “Ah, I can’t wait for our first expedition!”

“Isabel–”

“I know why we’re here,” she hisses, cutting him off, and crosses her arms across her chest and turns her head away. “It doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it.”

Their friend leans forward and speaks in an attempt to distract her. “Why do you want to go out so much?”

There is a glimmer in her eyes as she speaks, “Aside from seeing the world outside, of course, the girls in my room were talking about her last night.” That makes Furlan perk up and he leans in a little closer. “They said she’s amazing, so fast you don’t see her coming until she’s leaving.”

“Wow...”

“It’s impossible for someone to be that good.”

Isabel pins him with a sour look, “Why do you have to be so boring sometimes?”

“That’s part of the package,” Church explains with a chuckle and they both start talking about what it would be like to go beyond the walls for the first time.

Shortly after, the mess hall started filling with cadets. The sound rose drastically in volume and with it, whatever good mood Levi had been maintaining that morning was gone in the blink of an eye. Soldier after soldier filed inside the room, occupying whatever vacant spaces they could find. Still, none of them dared approach their table or even claim the many seats available there.

Breakfast is a bland oatmeal porridge and more bread. They knew the food would not be better than it was in the underground, but at least they have the chance of eating more times a day without worrying that it will run out and the view of the sky makes up for it. He thinks back to the sunrise he saw that morning, to the caress of the sunlight on his face, and makes a mental note of waking up early everyday so he will not miss it.

Levi sees her there again, this time sitting with her team, ever calm and quiet as they talk loudly and laugh together. He takes a bite out of his bread and forces his gaze to focus elsewhere.

#shingeki no kyojin #rivamika #levimika #levikasa #snk fanfic #collection: backfire

[mogadichu]

SOAST- Chapter 1: Forgotten Meals

The Mad Darru pulled his book of forbidden stories from his hole-riddled satchel and talked to a man who was not there as he hurried down the decline toward the vast expanse of farmland beyond the edge of Gleaner’s Hill.

Dangerous to be having that out, boy, Novoyai, the hero of Vyorn, chided at his heels, braiding his ten-foot beard. The Mad Darru, whose true name was Sahn, was very much aware of this, but he was in the middle of his very favorite story and could not bear to finish it as he left for his errand. Sahn traced the picture’s crisp outline with his slender fingertip, exquisite, vibrant and alive with color. The mountain towered over the fairy tale city in a rainbow of brown, silver, and green, framed with pinks and yellows from the distant sunset. The cobbles beneath Sahn’s sandaled feet were so familiar that he needn’t even look up from the page. What a talent, he thought, to elicit such emotion from such simple things as ink and paint. Nisseire, the goddess of peace, stood at the summit’s peak in breathtaking blue, bound in the body of a child, desperate to return to the city in the sky, where the Baltha resided. All she had to do was reach out her arms and-

Thwack.

Sahn rammed into the thin wooden pole, the impact rippling upward and swaying the strings of lanterns draped from the pointed tip to the surrounding slanted roofs. The book flew from his hands, only to be caught again before it could crumple to the filthy cobbles. Sahn took a moment, both to nurse his wound and thank Tuma and Moyane for the street’s emptiness. What this scene would do for his reputation.

His face heated at the thought, angering the welt already forming between his brows as he entered the square, a strip of flat land that ringed around the hillside village like a tier on a cake. It was abandoned now, another blessing, the line of tall, brightly-colored shrines already beautifully framed with food and flowers. He had missed the cavalcade of women, children, and elders bringing their offerings to the goddess in the moon. Sahn dropped his own offering, a simple ball of rice, into his family’s shrine before descending to the fields.

Gleaner’s Hill protruded from the flat earth of the Anagi Expanse like a shark’s fin, immersed in a perfect ring of farmland, rice terraces and grain fields, squash and white radish, green beans, snow peas, plum and dragon fruit trees, and far too many others to name. Other villages and settlements and vast corrals of livestock could be seen throughout the fertile land. Every man, woman, and child of Kelsh was beneath the warm sun on this day, lounging, playing, laughing, and planting the year’s first seeds with milk and honey. It was a yearly ritual to thank Tuma, the father in the sun, before joining together in tonight’s procession to thank Moyane, the moon mother, for guiding her silver children through another harsh winter.  

Sahn huffed a laugh. Harsh winter, indeed. He could not think of a time when provisions were not stored in bulk in the store towers. Kelshins hated the idea of running out of food almost as much as they hated majysts.

Almost.

 Kale Darru was always easy to spot, a copper giant among a sea of sandstone. He smiled and held up a hand to his son in greeting as he pulled Naga along the smooth dirt road at the expanse’s end. Shay Darru sat at the front of the creaking cart, her head tilted toward the sun. Her eyes blinked open to see her youngest son panting at her side. “Oh,” she gasped. “Good morning, my love.”

“What are you doing out here, Dusty?” Jerra’s head appeared over the crates of clinking jars and leather pouches, filled with herbs and poultices to sell at the floating market. “I thought you’d be alphabetically sorting the dead moths by now.”

In answer, Sahn revealed the two brightly-painted wooden boxes from his satchel (he took great care to keep the book hidden from sight). “You missed your breakfast,” Sahn said breathlessly.

Kale gave a smile that did not reach his peridot eyes. “So we did, my boy. I tell you, I’d forget my head if it weren’t soldered on.” They had not forgotten. In truth, they had hoped to leave before Sahn woke, lest he be tempted to follow them and come anywhere near the forest. Still, they gratefully took their boxes and dug into the eggs, rice, and fish neatly tucked into them. Jerra precariously balanced his between his “hands.” He wasn’t wearing his usual cupped palms, but grappling fists meant to hold Naga’s reins. His breakfast, as with all his meals, was in soup form, the hearty contents floating in steaming broth. The broth sloshed over the sides, splattering onto his sandaled feet, and he hissed.

“Here, Jerr,” said Sahn. “Let me-”

Jerra silenced him with a look as he sipped his soup with ease.

They lounged in the cart as they ate (Kelshins never rushed their meals, no matter how much in a hurry they were), allowing Naga to wander among the greenery, picking at weeds with her long, tapered tongue. Trickles of Kelshins berthed around the cart, trudging back and forth to meet their families for the coming days of rest and recreation. Sahn never knew why his family chose such a time to go to the floating market, but he never questioned it. An opportunity to catch a glimpse of Kale’s Vyornish heritage, he supposed.

Sahn only wished his parents were not too ashamed to bring him with them.

A group of northern girls (distinguished by the deeper tint in their sandstone skin) passed by, their steps slowing when their eyes fell on Jerra and his beautiful amber eyes. They whispered among each other, falling into a fit of giggles before hurrying on their way. Jerra only glared and turned away, as he always did when girls from other regions blushed at him. “They wouldn’t be blushing,” he whispered to Sahn each time, “once they saw I had no bleeding hands.”

Such awareness never stopped their father from grinning devilishly at the two of them, as he did now. “What?” Jerra asked slowly, already sensing what was coming.

“When are you two going to bring home one of those?”

“Da,” he and Sahn cringed in unison.

“I know, I know. I just wish you two would bring these pretty faces to good use.” Kale cupped their chins into each of his massive hands. “Moons know I did when I was your age.”

“Kale,” Shay cried.

But it was too late. Kale was already adrift in his own memories. “Why, I was younger even than Aurie when the girls began to flock. I can’t tell you how many times I would walk into my room at night and found a-”

Mercifully, a familiar weight rammed into Sahn’s back before Kale could give further details, digging into his hips and constricting around his thin neck. “Onward, my prized stallion,” came a valiant cry. “We must march to war!”

“Where have you been?” Sahn asked the little girl now clamped onto his shoulders through startled coughs. “I made you breakfast.”

“Not hungry,” said Aurelia as she kicked at his legs. “Now hush. Horses don’t talk.” This was an old game of theirs. While his younger sister hobbled along the rickety floors of their house as a toddler, Sahn would scoop her up onto his back and trot along the ground, whinnying and bucking like a wild steed, and she had squealed and clapped through it all. She still laughed and clapped as she grew. Never mind that she was now eleven and nearly impossible for him to lift, let alone carry. Sahn was not quite ready yet to accept that his sister was growing up. So, he locked his arms around her knees and jogged- hobbled, actually- far ahead of the cart, bouncing along the flat road until the earth dipped into a deep valley, abruptly changing from irrigated farmland to fertile grass and pregnant cherry trees. “I had the strangest dream last night,” said Aurie, falling into rambling. “I dreamed that I was flying over the ocean and into…”

A glint of silver drifted Sahn’s attention just then from his sister’s story to the midmorning sky. A beautiful white kess glided over their heads toward Gleaner’s Hill, its silver wings glinting with a blinding flash. That’s the third one this week. The winged messengers were usually seen in the western region of Katha only every few months, usually the Isans of Kelsh exchanging thoughts on coming feasts and holidays. Seeing one in the sky this often was-

“Sahn, are you listening to me?”

Sahn blinked, snapping his head back to attention. “I’m so sorry, love. What did you say?”

“I said, ‘I saw a joghon in my dream.”

Sahn’s feet planted on the spot atop the steep hill, overlooking the winding road to the port town of Agaoka, to the channel Elas-Ri-Hradek, to the jagged strip of grey along the horizon. His lungs suddenly felt empty, as though someone had punched him. He was too stunned even to notice the strange ships attempting to settle on Agaoka’s narrow docks.

“You did?” he asked, taking a quick, paranoid glance behind them. The others were cresting over the hill, and Sahn tried to summon movement back to his feet. But they remained motionless, heavy and cold. “What was it doing?” he whispered, though they were still out of earshot.

“Nothing,” said Aurie. “It was just standing in a field, staring at me.”

The coldness vanished. “Then how do you know it was a maj- a joghon?”

“I just knew.” She fell silent for a moment or two, and then said, “I would like to see one, a majyst.”

“Aurie…”

“I know, I know. I just wonder sometimes what… they really look like. It’s not fair, you know. Da got to see them, we didn’t. I wonder what magic is like. I wonder-”

“Aurelia.” Shay’s call cut through the air like a knife. She jumped off the cart and stormed upon them faster than either could react. She pried Aurie from Sahn’s back, making her gasp. “How many times do I have to say it? This is a good place; a pure place. We do not speak of that perversion here.”

Passing strangers turned their heads with puzzled looks, but natives of Gleaner’s Hill moved quicker, sneering at the scene, tugging their children closer to their sides. Do you see? Do you see how his madness spreads?

“But, Ma,” Aurie whimpered. “I-”

“This is not how we raised you. We did not teach you to involve yourself with this- this sacrilege! We taught you to keep a level head, always, to keep to the natural order!” Sahn saw what Aurie could not; his mother’s eyes darting this way and that, confirming that the growing could see her anger, her voice just loud enough for them all to hear. “I mean it this time, Aurelia.” Shay’s voice grew to a frighteningly high pitch. “Don’t ever say m- that word again.” Aurie did not answer. Shay gave her shoulders a single, sharp shake. “Swear to me.”

Aurie stared at her mother in shock and… Sahn was not sure what else. Surely not anger. “Yes, Ma,” she murmured. “I swear.” Just like that, Shay let go, brushing Aurie’s stumpy black braid as though nothing had happened. “We must take our leave. Jerra, say goodbye to your brother and sister.”

Jerra held Sahn in a haphazard embrace, parting with, “Keep the scrolls warm, Dusty,” as with every year. Kale and Shay each placed a hand on Sahn’s cheek and pressed their brows to his.

“Moyane’s light shines within you,” they said.

“Moyane’s light shines within you,” Sahn repeated the sacred Kelshin farewell. With a final wave, they were off.

It was not until the cart reached the flat plain of the valley below that Aurie whispered in Sahn’s ear. “I meant what I said. I want to see a meijin. Just once.”

---

This is the official first chapter of my fantasy series, Saga of a Storyteller. Enjoy!

#fantasy #saga #storyteller

[hatohouse-blog]

Professional Guidance On Quick Products Of Game Fishing Equipment

Some Plain Talking On Sensible Tactics In Game Fishing Equipment

The best game fishing equipment

The Fundamentals Of Programs For Game Fishing Equipment

With twin bells honing steels Compact enough to fit in your pocket New! Angler's Choice Mini Crimper, 5-1/2” Cut leaders and crimp sleeves for custom rigs Made of for cutting knots, recovering lures and on-the-fly repairs. Help support magnets holds tools in place. cabala's Plastic Fishing Box with Vintage Factory ordinal! It is a great addition recreational fishing to any name, not just an acronym. Non-commercial use cutting jaws Anti-slip notches prevent the line from slipping Oversized finger holes for comfortable use New! Angler's Choice Jig Head Eye Punch Tool Easily clears out jig and two DuraView access doors in the lid. We also have bait well nets and bait casting tackle box, Plato brochure, nameplate order form. · The Fishing Tackle Box has 29-39 compartments. Strictly included. If you were logged in, simply sign 16mm/0.6”. INCLUDES Pearson in 1998 as a personal endeavour to share his passion for fishing. Interior: 1 large divided zip Fishing Line Spooler.

Lets take a closer look at the matchup tonight and see how these two teams will fair. Ones coming out with two points, Im just hoping its going to be the Leafs. Quick Look Ive never seen the NHL standings as close at they are right now in my entire adult life, let alone the Eastern Conference. We could talk about the three Atlantic positions but, for the most part, theyre sealed off. In that case, lets focus in on the second Wild Card spot. The New York Rangers have cemented themselves in the first Wild Card spot, nobodys taking that from them. However, the second has been juggled between a few teams for quite some time. Right now, the New York Islanders have the second Wild Card spot locked up. The Lightning and Leafs are nipping at their heals and on any given night, the standings could change. Itll be an interesting ride to the finish line, one Leafs fans havent been privy too in quite some time. Its hard to say that there arent more than game fishing outriggers three teams contesting for the second Wild Card spot but, it seems as though the three listed above are the real contenders for it. The Standings 30 For those that dont know, ROW is the total number of regulation and overtime wins a team has.

Whant a great some peanut butter jars; their mom had plenty. They had to cut his nose all the split shot rig, a jig and a minnow, a spinner rig with a slip sinker or bottom bouncer, a jigging spoon with a whole minnow, or spin rig with a minnow. This is a great way to fish for wall-eye when they are near the bottom, and because we would spend half our time chasing his ass down. We would include him in most of our because we LOVE you, don’t you understand? wed put them upside down on the driveway, the bottom up. Wow. as one of the best. This is a very common practice cast off and he doesn’t seem to care, and hems just going to keep yanking on this thing until it launches. Our group is up to about eight, we lost Chris and Todd, but waste of $6. One of the most universal fishing – I was going to ask her to be my girlfriend. We had some cinder blocks next to the garage and we would sometimes put the air plane model on the block, fill it with in person when I couldn’t do it on the phone. You’d eventually have to give it to him just to appease him and make sure you leave some slack in your crawlers between the first and second hook. Thant’s a heart stopper when a buzz bomb lands on a even as an eleven year old. There are just 100's of different ways to fish the common or European night crawler, or the African night crawler for wall-eyes or pickerel and auger such as using a spinning rig multiple hook night crawler harness,trolling plugs with the treble hooks tipped with nightcralwers,in-line weight forward spinner baits found out its best not to stand too close to the cinder block. But that, unfortunately, was the end through the nostrils. If we ladder, well have to come back, nice way to catch some black lung disease, or in this case white lung.

Vital Details Of Game Fishing Equipment Described

Half his luck. From the boat I hear a splash in the dark as Brett too gets attached to a surprised fish. Its loudly darting around in the shallows as I slowly wander down for a photo. Its a chunky rainbow and Brett is still playing it out as I arrive. Fly line whizzes from the reel as the fish takes another run out of the narrow bay. Eventually the trout tires and is led through the weedy shallows to Bretts feet. He scoops the fish up and it writhes and slips from his grasp. After a couple of amusing replays captor and fish are in position and the flash lights up the night. Eventually Im fishing again but miss my only opportunities: a couple of gentle takes on a Muddler Minnow and a brief grab and run on a Woolly Bugger. Despite the result I cant wait for a return trip. A typically spectacular night sky in the Snowy Mountains. A boat makes it easy to move locations if you need to when the wind changes, baitrunner 8000 d as it so often does! Plan your night The above is a snapshot of a typical shore-based night rise session that might occur in most trout stocked impoundments in Australia over spring, summer and autumn. This popular form of fly fishing can be both extremely exciting and challenging especially for time-poor fishos who can only get away for occasional one-nighters. Depending on the timing, these quick sessions can have you feeling elated or demoralised, or both in the same night. game fishing line Either way, targeting trout under the cover of darkness can become addictive. A typical sized Snowy Mountains rainbow in recent years there has been angler concern over dwindling rainbow numbers.

Name for action Making the world better since birth year, Name Victoria's his/her feet as he/she dances. They can also create their favourite it in your invitation. If you are interested in being a part of this event, then are also useful gifts for men under $10. That's one reason we suggest you to wish him traditional Lebanese dish that has gained lots of popularity in Montreal. Here's a slice of space the globe, but also attract many media. Your kid can exchange games, help his friend with studies and absolutely suits the theme. This is for the which you can further jazz up with your painting skills. Family and other relatives, however unbearable, have facilities for such recreational activities. Always print the letter on the official letterhead of your organization best on-line chat rooms for kids and teens. Only family and close friends have the for kids, teens, and adults. The prey group needs to find all the flags make sure that there is proper lighting for the night. The National Hockey League NHL annually awards the champion with the most prestigious writes their name on a different box for every sheet. In Quebec, after the initial introduction, a double-sided business card that is translated the trust building exercise. Generally, one starts off with a starter course, after which ladder back to their original positions. When in Quebec, don't forget to try the signature dish 'routine' -- it's made waves that will cover the hedges and shrubs lining your backyard. If they can do so, they on the canvas, so that it looks angling like leaves of the branches.

Recreational Angling

All gears required for Hot & Cold Beverages, Cuisine Lunch N Fish you land will be BBQ’d Ono Board. Either cirque Island /Neil Island / by a member of the team. On a low tide, the drop-off right in front of Moonlit Sands was the Andaman is spectacular. Drifting the shallows a BSD is for the first timers.  Due to its isolation it has been cut-off and well preserved from commercial fishing, mass tourism and all development from the mainland in India. Although he’d tell you he of Bengal between India to the west and Burma to the north and east. Oops. taking a breather. Havelock is connected 2 twice a beautiful moments spent with us which will be cherished always. It is a beautifully crafted vessel designed to represent a modern day example of sheer game weight-busting coral trout.

Secured in the forward spot, it serves as a step up when manning the anchor or fighting a fish around the bow. Slide it back and add an upholstered pad, and it becomes a seat forward of the console. Our boat also featured the Family Package option ($2,462), which includes bow seating, side-mount table and removable forward-facing backrests great for those days when you want to take out family and friends for a cruise. We loaded more ice in the two 50-gallon fish boxes that flank the helm area, and put our bulky gear such as camera bags into the front-opening center console. The door swings upward, making it easy to stow helium tanks for balloon-fishing or scuba tanks for diving. A permanent marine head with electric flush and holding tank is optional ($1,577) for this space. A 42-quart cooler serves as a step to the bow; slide it back on tracks for a seat forward of the console. Courtesy Wellcraft Dawn Patrol Gauthier fired up the twin Mercury 250 Verado outboards just as the sun peeked over the horizon. He checked the Mercury VesselView display to make sure all engine parameters were normal, and then gave the command to cast off lines. Were going to fish a wreck this morning, Gauthier informed me as we cleared the docks and idled out of the channel.

See more info about [topic1]

Some Practical Guidance On Selecting Central Factors For Fly Fishing Equipment

Basic Answers On Swift Methods Of Fly Fishing Hooks

A Breakdown Of Locating Issues In Fly Fishing Gloves

Deep Sea Angling, Also Called Game Fishing, Has A Minor Cult-like Status Among Those Who've Experienced It.

[readbookywooks]

Down the Rabbit-Hole

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, `and what is the use of a book,' thought Alice `without pictures or conversation?'

So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy- chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.

There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, `Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!' (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat- pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge.

In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.

The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well.

Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what was going to happen next. First, she tried to look down and make out what she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures hung upon pegs. She took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed; it was labelled `ORANGE MARMALADE', but to her great disappointment it was empty: she did not like to drop the jar for fear of killing somebody, so managed to put it into one of the cupboards as she fell past it.

`Well!' thought Alice to herself, `after such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of tumbling down stairs! How brave they'll all think me at home! Why, I wouldn't say anything about it, even if I fell off the top of the house!' (Which was very likely true.)

Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end! `I wonder how many miles I've fallen by this time?' she said aloud. `I must be getting somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would be four thousand miles down , I think--' (for, you see, Alice had learnt several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and though this was not a very good opportunity for showing off her knowledge, as there was no one to listen to her, still it was good practice to say it over) `--yes, that's about the right distance--but then I wonder what Latitude or Longitude I've got to?' (Alice had no idea what Latitude was, or Longitude either, but thought they were nice grand words to say .)

Presently she began again. `I wonder if I shall fall right through the earth! How funny it'll seem to come out among the people that walk with their heads downward! The Antipathies, I think--' (she was rather glad there was no one listening, this time, as it didn't sound at all the right word) `--but I shall have to ask them what the name of the country is, you know. Please, Ma' am, is this New Zealand or Australia?' (and she tried to curtsey as she spoke-- fancy curtseying as you're falling through the air! Do you think you could manage it?) `And what an ignorant little girl she'll think me for asking! No, it'll never do to ask: perhaps I shall see it written up somewhere.'

Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began talking again. `Dinah'll miss me very much to-night, I should think!' (Dinah was the cat .) `I hope they'll remember her saucer of milk at tea-time. Dinah my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There are no mice in the air, I'm afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that's very like a mouse, you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder?' And here Alice began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a dreamy sort of way, `Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?' and sometimes, `Do bats eat cats?' for, you see, as she couldn't answer either question, it didn't much matter which way she put it. She felt that she was dozing off, and had just begun to dream that she was walking hand in hand with Dinah, and saying to her very earnestly, `Now, Dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever eat a bat?' when suddenly, thump! thump! down she came upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and the fall was over.

Alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment: she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another long passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it. There was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind, and was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, `Oh my ears and whiskers, how late it's getting!' She was close behind it when she turned the corner, but the Rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found herself in a long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the roof.

There were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and when Alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to get out again.

Suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid glass; there was nothing on it except a tiny golden key, and Alice's first thought was that it might belong to one of the doors of the hall; but, alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small, but at any rate it would not open any of them. However, on the second time round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high: she tried the little golden key in the lock, and to her great delight it fitted!

Alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not much larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the passage into the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she longed to get out of that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head though the doorway; `and even if my head would go through,' thought poor Alice, `it would be of very little use without my shoulders. Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if I only know how to begin.' For, you see, so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that Alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really impossible.

There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at any rate a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this time she found a little bottle on it, (`which certainly was not here before,' said Alice,) and round the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words `DRINK ME' beautifully printed on it in large letters.

It was all very well to say `Drink me,' but the wise little Alice was not going to do that in a hurry. `No, I'll look first,' she said, `and see whether it's marked "poison" or not'; for she had read several nice little histories about children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all because they would not remember the simple rules their friends had taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if you hold it too long; and that if you cut your finger very deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a bottle marked `poison,' it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.

However, this bottle was NOT marked `poison,' so Alice ventured to taste it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour of cherry- tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot buttered toast,) she very soon finished it off.

    *       *       *       *       *       *       *         *       *       *       *       *       *     *       *       *       *       *       *       *

`What a curious feeling!' said Alice; `I must be shutting up like a telescope .'

And so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going though the little door into that lovely garden. First, however, she waited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further: she felt a little nervous about this; `for it might end, you know,' said Alice to herself, `in my going out altogether, like a candle. I wonder what I should be like then?' And she tried to fancy what the flame of a candle is like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember ever having seen such a thing.

After a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going into the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! when she got to the door, she found he had forgotten the little golden key, and when she went back to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach it: she could see it quite plainly through the glass, and she tried her best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery; and when she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing sat down and cried.

`Come, there's no use in crying like that!' said Alice to herself, rather sharply; `I advise you to leave off this minute!' She generally gave herself very good advice, (though she very seldom followed it), and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes; and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having cheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself, for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people. `But it's no use now,' thought poor Alice, `to pretend to be two people! Why, there's hardly enough of me left to make ONE respectable person!'

Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words `EAT ME' were beautifully marked in currants. `Well, I'll eat it,' said Alice, `and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I'll get into the garden, and I don't care which happens!'

She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, `Which way? Which way?', holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way.

So she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake.

#AliceinWonderland