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mirikitakato · 1 year ago

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[Translation] Banquet for the Scarlet Flower Dyed in Darkness: Episode 9

The nearby undead stop moving and sink into the flower field. Then, they are swallowed up and turned into grains of light, disappearing.

Oz: All the living corpses have been cleaned up. Next, I'll clean up the source.

He grabs his magic tool in one hand and pulls me by the shoulder.

Oz: The spirits will probably resist and rebel fiercely. Don't let me out of your sight so you don't lose your mind.

Akira: Y-yes!

The forest falls silent. No sound of rustling leaves, no chirping of birds. The silence is so intense that it makes my ears ache and gives me goosebumps.

Lifting my head by chance, I see the sunlight filtering through the trees seemed somewhat dim, as if a light gray curtain was approaching. The light pouring into the forest is only during the sunrise, just before the real morning comes.

Oz: It ends here.

Oz slowly raises his staff high. And then, quietly, he stares into the shadow and commands.

Oz: Spirits who have made their nests here, stained with negativity. Obey me. 《Vox Nox》

Immediately after that, a great storm sweeps in.

Faust: Ugh, everyone! Get ready!

Riquet: Whoa.

Mur: What a tremendous shock! So excited!

Faust: If you lose focus, you'll be blown away. Don’t stop using your magic! Everything’s going smoothly, the assembly of the ritual is going well. Keep pouring power into it so that no cracks form.

Arthur: Yes, leave it to me!

Lennox: Ugh...What a terrifying power...

Heathcliff: ......Urg….!

Shino: Heath! You okay?

Heathcliff: I'm fine...! You too, concentrate... ...If this fails, there may be no place to return to even if their lives are saved. I won't let go of my power at all costs...!

A strong wind blows around us. In the middle of that storm, I unconsciously cover my head with both hands.

Akira: (My head, feels like it gonna split open...)

The screams and voices of sorrow echo inside me, making me want to cover my ears. As if black fog is seeping into my chest, negative emotions gradually increase. Fear and anxiety, self-reproach and regret. I feel like giving up on everything, destroying myself...

Akira: (...Huh…why am I here... Why was I dragged into this forest, to this place where large flowers sway, all alone... …Right. I've always been hiding in the shadows of others, running away in fear, just being protected... I couldn't help anyone at all, so I have no choice but to sacrifice myself here. To go into the darkness like this, and become a part of this forest...to save them…)

Oz: Sage. My hands are covered by Oz's palms as I use them to cover my head. And then, he pulls me to his chest. The warmth of a human touch relaxes my stiff fingers. A low voice echoes in my ears.

Oz: ...There’s no need to be trapped by a role if it means losing yourself. But you are you. As a Sage, you are here to guide us - your wizards. And if you cannot see the path in the darkness, we will be your light.

I feel a sudden sense of relief in my tight breath. The voice, which sounds like he is talking to a child, continues.

Oz: Don't worry, I'm here.

That's right. He is the world's strongest wizard. And I am by his side, Oz.

As the sound of the wind gradually subsides and the rustling of the flowers ceases... The voice in my head also stops, and silence falls around me. When I turn my head, I see the morning sun rising fully, and the forest is once again shrouded in darkness.

Akira: Ah...

And then, a vivid scarlet fills my field of vision, rising from the darkness. The Oz flowers, which had turned black, regain their color and sway brilliantly in the darkness.

Arthur: Lord Oz! Sir Sage!

Akira: Arthur! Everyone!

Riquet: Wow…! It's amazing! The whole forest is bright red...!

Murr: The land is not dead! Somehow, it survived!

Faust: It seems like everything worked well.

Oz: Yes, the spirits that were stained with negativity are now peacefully asleep.

Shino: It was chaotic even when I just looked at it from above. But somehow, we managed to protect it.

Everyone comes down to the flower field with bright smiles. I too burst into laughter and greet them. The wizards, who once again see the Oz flower field, gasp in admiration.

Arthur: What a magnificent sight. Look how beautiful this scenery is...

Heathcliff: Yes. The vivid red color spreads as if it were dyed, all the way to depths of the forest where we can’t see...

Lennox: The air is clear too. The budding green leaves are full of vitality.

Murr: Yup, like a newly born forest!

The forest is still dark as light cannot reach it, but the "Oz" flowers are blooming vigorously, appearing strong and shining brilliantly even in this darkness. It's like I am witnessing the natural state of existence, and my own heart feels refreshed.

Heathcliff: That's right, Ivan and Jessica are...!

As Heathcliff looks around, Oz points to a slightly distant place.

Oz: There.

Jessica: ...Ugh

Ivan: Wh-what happened... Why am I in the forest...

The flowers sway, and two people rise from the flower field. Perhaps Oz had been protecting them so that they could be safe even in that storm.

Riquet: I'm glad Ivan and Jessica are safe too.

Heathcliff: Are you both okay? Do you feel unwell or anything?

Jessica: I'm fine... My head is a little dizzy, but...

Ivan: But somehow, it's easier to breathe. My head is clear. Uh…no, wait, what happened to the ritual!? It's morning now... right? So Jessica didn't have to be a sacrifice?

Jessica: Guess so. I barely remember anything.

As if their consciousness hasn't fully returned, they exchange puzzled glances, still a bit dazed. Apparently, they have no memory of being controlled by the spirits.

Heathcliff: ...Everything is fine now. The forest has safely greeted the morning, and Oz flowers have regained their scarlet color. All that's left in this place is the beautiful scenery. There is nothing to threaten you anymore.

Ivan & Jessica: ......!

As sunlight pierces through the forest, light floods their eyes. Gradually, their expressions change to joy. Jessica smiles brightly and runs into Ivan's arms.

Ivan: Wah...! What is it, Jessica?!

Jessica: ...Thank goodness. I'm so, so glad...!

Ivan: …….……Yeah, me too. You have gone through alot.

Ivan reaches out his hand to his chest, trying to find a familiar presence. Perhaps he has developed a habit of touching his pendant.

Ivan: Oh, the pendant is broken! But Jessica gave it to me...

Jessica gently shakes her head as she looks at Ivan, her shoulders relaxed.

Jessica: ...It's okay. It must have done its job.

Seeing that, Heathcliff smiles happily. Arthur, Riquet, and Lennox are also smiling at each other. In the midst of that, Faust opens his mouth, looking at the forest that has regained its color.

Faust: ...Ivan, Jessica, are you afraid of this forest?

Ivan & Jessica: Uhm...

They stare intently at the forest in front of them. Then, they look at each other again and talk.

Ivan: ...It looks like a beautiful forest. But it still feels like something is lurking in the darkness, deep and forbidding.

Jessica: Yeah...and there's also the legend of Oz. We would sometimes stop right outside the forest, but we avoided going deep inside.

Murr: That must be the culprit! The cause of the birth of "Banquet of Darkness, Walpurgis Night"!

Murr floats in the air, talking as he plays with the "Oz" flowers that are scattering around.

Ivan: The cause...You mean it’s because we felt uncomfortable with the flowers and the forest?

Murr: Exactly! Deep darkness sometimes induces fear and anxiety in those who see it, confusing their minds. Moreover, this is a forest where flowers named after the Demon Lord bloom. There must have been people who went here, became terrified and mentally ill in the past. Those people might have been chosen by “Oz” and became sacrifices, don’t ya think?

Faust: Harsh as it may sound, but there was a mixture of the negative emotions of such people in that darkness. It would be no surprise if some people succumbed to despair and committed suicides.

Murr: Some of them might have pretended to go to the forest and run away somewhere, or they might have been attacked by beasts and died!

Faust: And Oz erased all those negative emotions as well... Even if we underestimate the time, it still takes a tremendous power to have hundreds of years of impurity vanish in an instant.

Akira: Hundreds of years...

Everyone unconsciously looks at Oz. There are different emotions in their eyes as they look at him – who holds such overwhelming power. Awe, overwhelm, respect, admiration, envy, and reverence. Oz remains calm even with those eyes on him. He doesn't even raise an eyebrow.

Episode 8 | Episode 10

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agirlattea · 2 years ago

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Sincerely, a Rainbow of stories for you:

Please Tell Me the Story of the Rainbow: Part 11

(Location: Exhibition at an Old Castle, Central Kingdom, Day Time)

Murr: Ahaha! Your sugar got eaten!!

Rutile: Well, it’s fine, I can still release make more! <Ortnik>......

Shino: No. Great job, Mithra.

Akira What?

Arthur: That’s right. See Luka? He ate one and he’s fine.

Luka: …

Luka shrank back and lowered her eyes at the sudden attention. She didn’t look scared, but confused.

Akira: Luka... Can I have one too?

Large lilac eyes blinked twice as I gently picked up the sugar that Rutile remade and bring it to my mouth.

Akira: ...Yes, it's delicious. Rutile sugar has a gentle taste.

Rutile: Is that so? I'm happy to hear it.

Once Luka saw this, she timidly picked at the sugar, and with slightly trembling hands, brought it to her mouth.

I could hear the cute sound of sugar rolling in her little mouth.

Luka: …!

It’s delicious...

Immediately, Luka’s expression softened and,like a flower blossoming suddenly, the air around her became soft.

Aslan: Luka…

Rutile: So you liked it! Luka, I'm so happy to see you smile. Your smile is probably better than sweet sugar: I think it has the power to cheer someone up!

Arthur: Indeed. And isn’t her complexion looking a little better?

Heathcliff: I think so. She’s not so pale anymore… I’m glad everything worked out.

Aslan: Thank you, everyone… It's been a while since I've seen her look like this.

Isn’t that wonderful, Luka? Let’s thank everyone for their kindness.

Shino: Look, isn’t this one of a kind?

Shino used magic to pick up the fallen picture and hand it to Luka. The ivy that had been writhing around had since calmed down.

Shino: It's an important picture book.

Luka: …Yes, thank you.

Shino: Hehe, you're welcome.

Murr: Hey, where's the sparkle from earlier?

Heathcliff: Sparkle?

Murr: The sparkles in every color of the rainbow! Didn't everyone see it?

Akira: Rainbow-colored... did it look like a magic powder?

Murr: Yes, that! Where did it disappear to?

Luka: Ah…

Looking confused, she hid behind Aslan's back again, holding the picture book in her arms.

Murr: Well, then. I’ll give you more sugar!

When Muru chanted a spell, a large amount of sugar fell from the ceiling.

Like rain illuminated by the sunrise, Like stars falling from the sky, Like petals blown along by a whimsical spring breeze.

It fell gently down on her.

Luka: …!!

Luka took a deep breath as her big eyes opened even further, sparkling as they caught the reflection of the sugar.

The expressions on the wizards' faces were strange, though naturally, I couldn’t look away from her. Rutile, standing next to me, was also captivate by the dazzling encounter.

Murr: Hey, wont you tell me?

Luka: …Um…

Oz: What is going on here?

Arthur: Lord Oz!

Luka: …!

Luka gasped and ran off, her silver hair swaying as she left.

Akira: Luka!

Aslan: ...I apologize on her behalf!.

Aslan bowed his head slightly, and followed after Luka.

Murr: Huh? Even though she seemed to like Sugar. I guess Oz's face was too scary!

Shino: In any case, what should we do? There's a sea of sugar all over the floor.

Akira Oh, that’s right!

Arthur: We must clean it up quickly. There are still other visitors here…

Mithra: Dis kina creening isn oo ad *Crunch crunch*

Heathcliff: Um… Mithra, what did you say just now?

Rutile: “This kind of cleaning isn’t too bad”… that’s great to hear!

Murr: Let’s fix it quickly with magic! <Earnul Ranbul> !

Oz: …

While Murr chanted his spell, Oz stared silently in the direction Luka had run.

Akira: Is something wrong, Oz?

Oz: That girl seemed strange to me. It is as if something that is supposed to be there is not... or perhaps it has not yet sprouted?

Akira: It hasn't sprouted...?

Oz: The source of all magical power……. the heart.

I slowly thought over Oz's words in my mind.

I looked at him questioningly, but he simply shook his head, swinging his long hair.

Oz: This is merely hypothetical. Magic comes from the heart.

More importantly, Sage, did you not hear that child’s story from that amber-eyed man?

Young wizards struggle with controlling their magic and are easily confused.

The twins are in charge of security at this exhibition. Just to be safe, I recommend reporting this incident.

(Location: ???, ???)

Luka: Hey, Roxy. Do you know Sugar?

A sparkling sweet lump like a star created by Wizards.

I wonder if I could make some too.

I've never done it before, so I don't know how but...

Hey, Roxy... My head is spinning, and I… feel restless all the time…

I don’t have much time left.

I have to finish the picture book as soon as possible.

After all, Aslan has worked so hard.

I don't know what I want to do. After all, once the picture book is completed...

The whole time I’ve been here it’s been so warm I almost thought I was back inside the egg but, right now I feel warm inside too.

Hey, where is the boundary between outside and inside?

If I stay here, I wonder if I’ll melt into this world like sugar candy.

Sweet, sweet, sugar candy.

Like the sugar I ate earlier...

Sweet… crisp... sparkling...

More… more…

(Location: Magic Manor, Living Room, Central Kingdom, Afternoon)

Snow: I see… in other words, the world depicted in picture books is neither a fantasy nor a fabrication of literature…

White: But instead what a young girl named Luka actually saw through her eyes.

After returning to the Manor, I visited the twins with Oz, Arthur, and Rutile.

Akira: That’s correct. I didn't ask Luka herself, but that is what I heard from Aslan.

Apparently, she’s possessed these special powers since he was very young.

Rutile: Besides, when I saw Luka staring at an empty space, I heard her calling out for someone named "Roxy".

Snow and White: Roxy?

Rutile: Please take a look at this.

When Rutile opened the picture book, an illusion spilled out and a fluffy, rainbow-colored creature appeared.

Rutile: This is Roxy. In the picture book, she is depicted as a dear friend of a young girl.

White: Somehow, this is truly… a creature worthy of the title “mythical creature”.

Roxy is probably the name that that child bestowed upon it.

However, ‘tis rumored that this species no longer exists in this era. They have gone extinct.

Very little has been recorded about this species. In the first place, they were always rarely spotted.

Akira: Now that I look closely… the creature by Luka’s side must have been Roxy.

Rutile: Yes, not the one depicted in this picture book, but the real Roxy...

White: Hmm. What do you think, Oz? You must have observed the girl in person.

Oz: Her magic was weak. However, she had a strange presence.

It would not be surprising if she had a connection with such a creature.

Snow and White: Oh…

(Location: Magic Manor, Shylock’s Bar, Central Kingdom, Night Time)

Shylock: I see… so she was able to draw such a details World because she’d witnessed it for herself.

Word of Luka’s special powers quickly spread throughout the Magic Manor.

The topic was also discussed at Shylock's bar.

Shylock: I must say I am quite interested in this world that the rest of us are incapable of viewing. I would love to speak to her about it.

Shylock's eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth turned up as he smoked from his pipe. I was taken aback by his bewitching expression.

Shylock: Master Sage? Your face looks red. Even though I haven't given you any alcohol, have you gotten drunk, perhaps?

Akira N-no! Umm...

Rustica: Maybe you were the one who got drunk, Shylock, with that sweet smile.

Bradley: I'm sure this’d be too harsh on a child's tongue, though.

Shylock: Oh? It’s an honor. In that case, allow me to provide this service for you.

Looking at the glass Shylock held out to him, Bradley smiled, showing his canines.

Bradley: Hey, shopkeeper. What are you trying to do with me by serving me such hard liquor?

Shylock: I would like to introduce you to the comfortable world of drunkenness. Though, I don't imagine you to be the type who gets drunk on alcohol.

Bradley: You certainly have an interesting hobby. Fine, I'll go out with you. *

Clearing his throat, Bradley grinned and tipped his glass.

At the end of the counter, where a light drinking competition had begun, Faust sat at the bar.

Faust: However, I had no idea that Luca Carol was such a young witch.

Rustica: I was quite surprised as well. But I'm sure there is a mysterious world that can only be reflected through pure eyes.

I hear that young children are particularly sensitive to such things.

Akira: Snow and White also said that childhood is the time when most people, whether humans or wizards, have special powers unconditionally.

I've heard stories like that back in my world as well.

Faust: That's probably right. The degree varies from person to person, but children tend to possess sensibilities that adults lack.

Though they’re too young to handle them properly, all their senses are excellently sharp.

However, there are not even a handful of people who retain these traits as they grow into adults. That girl must have had a hard time not having many people who understood her.

Akira: Yes… it seems she didn’t have a very good environment until she was taken in by Aslan.

Apparently her struggles stemmed from others seeming her mysterious world to be “creepy”…

Owen: No matter how weak she is, she's still a witch. What is there to struggle with?

Akira: Owen…

Owen, who was sitting on the sofa, leaned heavily against the backrest, arching his body.

He turned his head in my direction and continued speaking.

Owen: Even if a Wizard is abandoned, they can live on their own.

It’d be fine to just wield that special power to keep others away or make them fear you.

Translator’s note:

*I kid you not, he said “付き合ってやるよ”. I did some research and in this context “付き合っ” means “date” and “てやるよ” would mean “I will”, so congratulations ShyBrad/ BradShy shippers!

As always, I’m still learning the language so if anyone more qualified than me objects to this translation, please let me know so I can fix it :)

Back to event Masterlist

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aki-bara · 15 days ago

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Wild orcas have been trying to feed people, new research shows

Wild orcas on more than 30 occasions in four oceans have attempted to share their prey with people, potentially to develop relationships with humans, researchers have found. In each of the instances recorded over two decades, orcas approached a person within a length of the orca’s body, and dropped freshly hunted prey in front of the human, then waited for a response, according to a paper reporting the behavior published Monday in the Journal of Comparative Psychology.

Orcas of every age tried to share their prey, and just about everything was on the menu: sea otter, harbor seal, common murre, gray whale, green turtle, eagle ray, starfish, jellyfish, on and on.

So just what are the orcas doing, offering food to people?

Researchers ruled out play, because the incidents were short, lasting only about 30 seconds. And it’s mostly young orcas that play, and orcas of every age offered food. So it seems what is going on is exploration, the scientists surmised: The orcas are curious to see what happens if they offer us food.

Original Source: https://www.bangordailynews.com/2025/06/30/nation/wild-orcas-trying-to-feed-people/

#orcas #cetaceans #dolphins #killer whales #marine mammals #intespecies communication #prey sharing #science news #ORCAS ARE SO COOL #first kelp tools #now this #fascinating

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rjzimmerman · 7 months ago

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A Warning From a California Marine Heat Wave. (New York Times)

Excerpt from this New York Times story:

They call it “the Blob.”

A decade ago, sea surface temperatures in the Pacific shot up to 11 degrees Fahrenheit hotter than normal. A high pressure system parked over the ocean, and winds that churn cold, nutrient-rich water from the depths to the surface died down. Stagnant, warm water spread across the Northeast Pacific, in a marine heat wave that lasted for three years.

Under the surface, the food web broke down and ecosystems convulsed, at first unseen to humans on shore. But soon, clues washed up.

Dead Cassin’s auklets — small, dark gray seabirds — piled up on West Coast beaches. The auklets were followed by common murres, a slightly bigger black-and-white seabird. The carcasses were knee-deep in places, impossible to miss.

Researchers are still untangling the threads of what happened, and they caution against drawing universal conclusions from a single regional event. But the Blob fundamentally changed many scientists’ understanding of what climate change could do to life in the ocean; 10 years later, the disaster is one of our richest sources of information on what happens to marine life as the temperature rises.

And it is more relevant than ever. Last year, multiple “super-marine heat waves” blanketed parts of the ocean. Averaged together, global sea surface temperatures broke records, often by wide margins, for months in 2023 and 2024. As the climate warms, scientists expect extreme marine heat waves to become more frequent.

The Blob “was a window into what we might see in the future,” said Julia Parrish, a marine ecologist at the University of Washington who runs the Coastal Observation and Seabird Survey Team, a network of volunteers who survey beaches from Northern California to Alaska.

In a study published last year, Dr. Parrish and her colleagues estimate that the Blob eventually killed millions of seabirds, in waves of starvation.

More recently, researchers undertook a thorough post-mortem of the Blob in the Greater Farallones National Marine Sanctuary, off the California coast.

The sanctuary is one of 17 pockets of U.S. waters protected to varying degrees from development and industry. They are becoming test beds for ways people can try and help marine life — and the human livelihoods that depend on the ocean — adapt to climate change.

This summer, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration published a “condition report” for the Greater Farallones, along with an accompanying climate vulnerability assessment that reveals just how shocking the Blob was for scientists.

The foundation species that creates habitat for everything else in the Greater Farallones is bull kelp, a seaweed that grows from the seafloor to the surface in dense forests. Before the Blob, Ms. Lipski and her colleagues hadn’t thought bull kelp would be particularly vulnerable to climate change.

By the time the Blob dissipated, more than 90 percent of Northern California’s kelp forests were gone.

Historically, kelp has had booms and busts, Ms. Lipski said. “We just thought that’s the pattern for kelp — it’ll recover,” she said. “And it hasn’t.”

Kelp is eaten by sea urchins, which are eaten by sea stars. During the Blob, a deadly disease spread among sea stars, causing urchin populations to explode. Urchins devoured the kelp, leaving behind a much more barren seascape to this day.

“Back in 2014, I think there was this feeling amongst our experts that relative to land ecosystems, the ocean is really resilient,” said Sara Hutto, the climate change coordinator for the Greater Farallones and Cordell Bank sanctuaries.

#marine heat waves #climate change #the blob

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yumeno-hotaru · 4 years ago

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Murr Hart Relationship Headcanons

OG!Murr

With Murr, I feel that you would always encounter some form of debate or discussion. This man loves seeing your reactions, hearing your thoughts and figuring out how your mind works. It's interesting for him to see how his s/o would view aspects of their life through their very own eyes.

Murr adores Shylock's bar, so more often than not, you would find him escorting you there and introducing you to a night full of drinks; talking about anything and everything. The clinking sound of wine glasses, Murr's calm and smooth voice, Shylock's laughter and the whispers of countless other wizards and witches had become a source of familiarity.

Despite his personality, Murr is a gentleman to you, filled with smooth, poetic words of love, light and intimate touches, and whispers in your ear, as if tempting you to give in. He's quite a tease and would often enjoy seeing you overwhelmed with emotions.

I imagine Murr likes to stay up most nights, if only to watch his beloved moon - you still wonder if one day, he will leave you behind in favor of that disaster. What will triumph over that complicated man's heart? His love for the moon? Or his love for you? You had asked him this, but you never received an answer.

If he is not watching the moon, then he is immersed in his work. No one can snap Murr out of his train of thought. The only thing you can do during those times is to sigh, bring him food, something to drink and perhaps drape a blanket over his shoulders.

Sometimes, you wait for Murr. You sit on your bed, reading a book and hoping he would join you soon. Though his quiet mumbling and the scratching of pen on paper would lull you to sleep soon enough.

Murr is also someone that would encourage you to do something new or exciting. He loves watching you discover and experience new things. Life would be boring if one is too afraid to step into the unknown.

If you wish him to come with you, then so be it. He would laugh and offer his hand, aquamarine eyes narrowing into crescents as he waits for you take his hand.

Present Murr

The present Murr is even more affectionate, though not in a way that would make you blush and fluster, not allowing you to think straight. The current Murr is like a clingy feline, nuzzling on your neck, embracing you tightly; sometimes even going in for a playful bite. The contrast between his past and present self is crystal clear, but one thing that did not change is the warmth you felt whenever you feel him by your side.

He would greet you cheerfully, morning, afternoon, and night. Sometimes, he would take hold of your hand and ask how your day went with sparkling eyes. He would listen intently as he settles himself on your lap and urge you to pet him, smiling as he hears your voice.

Murr would seek you out at times if he comes up with something fun to do with you. From having tea parties to mischievous pranks, he wants to do them all.

The current Murr isn't as heavily inclined to his work as he was before, allowing him to spend more time with you. Those quiet nights alone on your bed seemed like a dream as you watch Murr jump into bed and make room for you under the messy pile of blankets. Both of you would talk late into the night until the need for sleep overcomes the both of you.

Hearing "I love you" from Murr had become more common as well. He would say those three words so easily as if he was talking about the weather and you'll be rewarded by a nibble on your finger or a quick kiss if you reply back to him.

I like to imagine Murr taking his s/o out at night on his broom, enjoying the night breeze and the light of the moon. Or perhaps settling on the roof to stargaze and watch the Great Calamity until the sun rises.

Once, a shard of Murr's soul approached you. He tilts your chin up and asks a question: "Who do you prefer? Me? Or my current self that Shylock had raised?"

#mahoyaku #promise of wizard #mhyk #murr x reader #murr hart #or is it murr heart?#im confused with his last name ngl #im going insane because of him/hj #idk shit about writing murr???#he's complicated #so this may be ooc #self indulgence go burr

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theguidetocryptids · 3 years ago

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Murr had placed down twenty-one glow-lamps so far.

He had placed them down every one-hundred-and-fifty taillengths.

Which meant he was a little bit well over three-thousand taillengths from the main camp.

Which, if this tunnel was dug in the right direction, would place him smack-dab in the middle of the M-section of the Library.

Snuffling his nose excitedly, brushing a bit of sand out of his whiskers, the mouse burrowed upwards, at an angle, to leave the rest of his packed-sand tunnel intact. It would only be a few whiskerlengths until he—

Yes! Yes! Hopping out into a surprisingly open area, bookshelves towering away at his every side, Murr hopped around excitedly, kicking up dust with every jump, and not even caring.

Checking a nearby plaque that detailed the contents of the aisle, Murr felt his whiskers trembling at the thought. Here he was, one of the least renowned borrowers, and he had found it! The M-section! The most important part of the library!

Magic!

Metal!

Machines!

He could hardly contain himself, even after a few moments, but there was no time to waste. Anything found here would be priceless, even if it wasn’t one of the big three topics—books from this section were rare as anything could be, in the Library! He was basically swimming in gold, now! Scrambling his way up a nearby ladder, which squeaked its protest rather ominously, the mouse would pull out a book at random.

Back home, the Warren was positively flooded with books from the nearest sections—A in particular. They knew practically everything that the ancients had to say about agriculture, animal husbandry, and aquifers—their main sources of food and water—but then again, the A section was in pristine condition. It hadn’t been affected all that much by the weight of the underground above it, as the Warren members had taken care to preserve what they could once they realized the volatility of the Library’s structure. (Architecture—a newly valued skill.)

But this! The later sections! These books were rarely found fragmented, much less whole and well preserved! Only the odd misplaced textbook had made its way to the earlier sections—and very few contained useful information—but some made mention of magic and metal, and some of technology and machinery. And how wonderful they had been! If the Warren of old had simply realized that the ceiling of the Library was failing in time! Alas!

Then again, that didn’t matter now. Murr had found it! The lost section!

Magic! And metal!

Flipping through the first object of his bounty—a book well preserved, but missing its title-sleeve—he came across something . . . unexpected.

There was what seemed to be a map of their world—of “Maroon,” the title said. The Ancients had used that to reference their planet a few times—and although vast swathes of the “Astronomy” section was lost to a great fire, enough survived for the Warren to know that there were planets, spheres, in which they lived on.

But there was something . . . else. There was a map of the land of Maroon, yes, but next to it was a different type of map. An . . . astrological chart?

Murr felt his whiskers shiver with surprise. Every chart in the A-section had been moved centuries again—lost to the Warren, who had only found the Library after the Ancients abandoned it—but there was this! an astrologer's chart! a map!

And, next to Maroon, painted a soft blue, was the Moon. Hung high in the sky, amidst a field of stars and stellar dust.

Murr was a very easily excitable mouse, to be certain, but he fell still at this. There was . . . a moon? Above Maroon? One that he had—no, one that no one in the Warren had seen? Above-ground? Not submerged in the sands?

If . . .

If they lived after what the Ancients left for them, then wouldn’t it be right to see this “moon?” Murr reasoned. Clearly, it was important enough to note in their texts. And one had taken the time to effort to draw it—a rare commodity in most of the Library’s texts.

He had to see it. He had already found the M-section, after all, and that had been thought to be lost forever. How hard could it be to reach the surface? To see the moon?

Just a quick trip. Up, to appreciate the object of the Ancient’s admirations, and then down, to share his findings, and the rest of the bounty of the M-section.

How hard could it be?

#creative writing #my writing #short story #fantasy #fiction

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New additions to the Indian Springs School Library May thru August 2020

Bibliography

Sorted by Call Number / Author.

152.4 O

Owens, Lama Rod, 1979- author. Love and rage : the path of liberation through anger. "Reconsidering the power of anger as a positive and necessary tool for achieving spiritual liberation and social change"--.

200.973 M

Manseau, Peter. One nation, under gods : a new American history. First edition.

304.8 K

Keneally, Thomas. The great shame : and the triumph of the Irish in the English-speaking world. 1st ed. New York : Nan A. Talese, 1999.

305.5 V

Vance, J. D., author. Hillbilly elegy : a memoir of a family and culture in crisis. First Harper paperback edition. "Hillbilly Elegy is a passionate and personal analysis of a culture in crisis--that of white working-class Americans. The decline of this group, a demographic of our country that has been slowly disintegrating over forty years, has been reported on with growing frequency and alarm, but has never before been written about as searingly from the inside. J. D. Vance tells the true story of what a social, regional, and class decline feels like when you were born with it hung around your neck. The Vance family story begins hopefully in postwar America. J. D.'s grandparents were "dirt poor and in love," and moved north from Kentucky's Appalachia region to Ohio in the hopes of escaping the dreadful poverty around them. They raised a middle-class family, and eventually their grandchild (the author) would graduate from Yale Law School, a conventional marker of their success in achieving generational upward mobility. But as the family saga of Hillbilly Elegy plays out, we learn that this is only the short, superficial version. Vance's grandparents, aunt, uncle, sister, and, most of all, his mother, struggled profoundly with the demands of their new middle-class life, and were never able to fully escape the legacy of abuse, alcoholism, poverty, and trauma so characteristic of their part of America. Vance piercingly shows how he himself still carries around the demons of their chaotic family history. A deeply moving memoir with its share of humor and vividly colorful figures, Hillbilly Elegy is the story of how upward mobility really feels. And it is an urgent and troubling meditation on the loss of the American dream for a large segment of this country." -- Publisher's description.

305.8 D

DiAngelo, Robin J., author. White fragility : why it's so hard for white people to talk about racism.

305.800973 D

Dyson, Michael Eric, author. Tears we cannot stop : a sermon to white America. First edition. I. Call to worship -- II. Hymns of praise -- III. Invocation -- IV. Scripture reading -- V. Sermon -- Repenting of whiteness -- Inventing whiteness -- The five stages of white grief -- The plague of white innocence -- Being Black in America -- Nigger -- Our own worst enemy? -- Coptopia -- VI. Benediction -- VII. Offering plate -- VIII. Prelude to service -- IX. Closing prayer. "In the wake of yet another set of police killings of black men, Michael Eric Dyson wrote a tell-it-straight, no holds barred piece for the NYT on Sunday July 7: Death in Black and White (It was updated within a day to acknowledge the killing of police officers in Dallas). The response has been overwhelming. Beyoncé and Isabel Wilkerson tweeted it, JJ Abrams, among many other prominent people, wrote him a long fan letter. The NYT closed the comments section after 2,500 responses, and Dyson has been on NPR, BBC, and CNN non-stop since then. Fifty years ago Malcolm X told a white woman who asked what she could do for the cause: Nothing. Dyson believes he was wrong. In Tears We Cannot Stop, he responds to that question. If we are to make real racial progress, we must face difficult truths, including being honest about how black grievance has been ignored, dismissed or discounted. As Dyson writes: At birth you are given a pair of binoculars that see black life from a distance, never with the texture of intimacy. Those binoculars are privilege; they are status, regardless of your class. In fact the greatest privilege that exists is for white folk to get stopped by a cop and not end up dead...The problem is you do not want to know anything different from what you think you know...You think we have been handed everything because we fought your selfish insistence that the world, all of it--all its resources, all its riches, all its bounty, all its grace--should be yours first and foremost, and if there's anything left, why then we can have some, but only if we ask politely and behave gratefully"--Provided by publisher.

305.800973 G

Begin again : James Baldwin's America and its urgent lessons for our own. New York, NY : Crown; an imprint of Random House, 2020.

305.800973 O

Oluo, Ijeoma, author. So you want to talk about race. First trade paperback edition.

320.9 B

Bass, Jack. The transformation of southern politics : social change and political consequence since 1945. New York : Basic Books, c1976.

323.1196 L

Lowery, Lynda Blackmon, 1950- author. Turning 15 on the road to freedom : my story of the 1965 Selma Voting Rights March. Growing up strong and determined -- In the movement -- Jailbirds -- In the sweatbox -- Bloody Sunday -- Headed for Montgomery -- Turning 15 -- Weary and wet -- Montgomery at last -- Why voting rights? -- Discussion guide. As the youngest marcher in the 1965 voting rights march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, Lynda Blackmon Lowery proved that young adults can be heroes. Jailed nine times before her fifteenth birthday, Lowery fought alongside Martin Luther King, Jr. for the rights of African-Americans. In this memoir, she shows today's young readers what it means to fight nonviolently (even when the police are using violence, as in the Bloody Sunday protest) and how it felt to be part of changing American history.

364.973 U.S.

U.S. national debate topic, 2020-2021.

420 M

McCrum, Robert. The story of English. 1st American ed. New York, N.Y., U.S.A. : Viking, 1986.

488.2421 A

Balme, M. G., author. Athenaze : an introduction to ancient Greek. Revised Third edition. Book I -- Book II.

510 C

Clegg, Brian. Are numbers real? : the uncanny relationship of mathematics and the physical world.

530.092 F

F©œlsing, Albrecht, 1940-. Albert Einstein : a biography. New York : Viking Penguin: a division of Penguin Books USA, Inc, 1997. Family -- School -- A "child prodigy" -- "Vagabond and loner" : student days in Zurich -- Looking for a job -- Expert III class -- "Herr Doktor Einstein" and the reality of atoms -- The "very revolutionary" light quanta -- Relative movement : "my life for seven years" -- The theory of relativity : "a modification of the theory of space and time" -- Acceptance, opposition, tributes -- Expert II class -- From "bad joke" to "Herr Professor" -- Professor in Zurich -- Full professor in Prague, but not for long -- Toward the general theory of relativity -- From Zurich to Berlin -- "In a madhouse" : a pacifist in Prussia -- "The greatest satisfaction of my life" : the completion of the general theory of relativity -- Wartime in Berlin -- Postwar chaos and revolution -- Confirmation and the deflection of light : "the suddenly famous Dr. Einstein" -- Relativity under the spotlight -- "Traveler in relativity" -- Jewry, Zionism, and a trip to America -- More hustle, long journeys, a lot of politics, and a little physics -- Einstein receives the Nobel Prize and in consequence becomes a Prussian -- "The marble smile of implacable nature" : the search for the unified field theory -- The problems of quantum theory -- Critique of quantum mechanics -- Politics, patents, sickness, and a "wonderful egg" -- Public and private affairs -- Farewell to Berlin -- Exile in liberation -- Princeton -- Physical reality and a paradox, relativity and unified theory -- War, a letter, and the bomb -- Between bomb and equations -- "An old debt. Albert Einstein's achievements are not just milestones in the history of science; decades ago they became an integral part of the twentieth-century world in which we live. Like no other modern physicist he altered and expanded our understanding of nature. Like few other scholars, he stood fully in the public eye. In a world changing with dramatic rapidity, he embodied the role of the scientist by personal example. Albrecht Folsing, relying on previously unknown sources. And letters, brings Einstein's "genius" into focus. Whereas former biographies, written in the tradition of the history of science, seem to describe a heroic Einstein who fell to earth from heaven, Folsing attempts to reconstruct Einstein's thought in the context of the state of research at the turn of the century. Thus, perhaps for the first time, Einstein's surroundings come to light.

530.092 G

Gleick, James. Isaac Newton. 1st ed. New York : Pantheon Books, c2003.

539.7 B

Lise Meitner : Discoverer of Nuclear Fission. Greensboro, NC : Morgan Reynolds, Inc, 2000. A biography of the Austrian scientist whose discoveries in nuclear physics played a major part in developing atomic energy.

598.07 T

Watching birds : reflections on the wing. United States : Ragged Mountain Press, 2000.

811 D

Dabydeen, David. Turner : new and selected poems. 2010. Leeds : Peepal Tree Press, Ltd, 12010.

811.54 J

Jones, Ashley M., 1990- author. Dark // thing. Slurret -- //Side A: 3rd grade birthday party -- //Side B: roebuck is the ghetto -- Harriette Winslow and Aunt Rachel clean -- Collard greens on prime time television -- My grandfather returns as oil -- Elegy for Willie Lee "Murr"Lipscomb -- Proof at the Red Sea -- Sunken place sestina -- Hair -- Antiquing -- The book of Tubman -- Harriet Tubman crosses the Mason Dixon for the first time -- Avian Abecedarian -- Harriet Tubman, beauty queen or ain't I a woman? -- Broken sonnet in which Harriet is the gun -- Recitation -- What flew out of Aunt Hester's scream -- Election year 2016: the motto -- Uncle Remus syrup commemorative lynching postcard #25 -- To the black man popping a wheelie on -- Interstate 59 North on 4th of July weekend -- Red dirt suite -- Love/luv/ -- Summerstina -- Ode to Dwayne Waye, or, I want to be Whitley -- Gilbert when I grow up -- I am not selected for jury duty the week bill -- Cosby's jury selection is underway -- A small, disturbing fact -- Water -- Today, I saw a black man open his arms to the wind -- Xylography -- I see a smear of animal on the road and mistake it for philando castile -- There is a beel at morehouse college -- Dark water -- Who will survive in America? or 2017: a horror film -- In-flight entertainment -- Imitation of life -- Broken sonnet for the decorative cotton for sale at Whole Foods -- Racists in space -- When you tell me I'd be prettier with straight hair -- (Black) hair -- Kindergarten villandelle -- Song of my muhammad -- Ode to Al Jolson -- Hoghead cheese haiku -- Aunties -- Thing of a marvelous thing / It's the same as having wings. A multi-faceted work that explores the darkness/otherness by which the world sees Black people. Ashley M. Jones stares directly into the face of the racism that allows people to be seen as dark things, as objects that can be killed/enslaved/oppressed/devalued. This work, full as it is of slashes of all kinds, ultimately separates darkness from thingness, affirming and celebrating humanity.

814.6 G

Gay, Roxane, author. Bad feminist : essays. First edition. A collection of essays spanning politics, criticism, and feminism from one of the most-watched young cultural observers of her generation, Roxane Gay. "Pink is my favorite color. I used to say my favorite color was black to be cool, but it is pink, all shades of pink. If I have an accessory, it is probably pink. I read Vogue, and I'm not doing it ironically, though it might seem that way. I once live-tweeted the September issue." In these funny and insightful essays, Roxane Gay takes us through the journey of her evolution as a woman (Sweet Valley High) of color (The Help) while also taking readers on a ride through culture of the last few years (Girls, Django in Chains) and commenting on the state of feminism today (abortion, Chris Brown). The portrait that emerges is not only one of an incredibly insightful woman continually growing to understand herself and our society, but also one of our culture. Bad Feminist is a sharp, funny, and spot-on look at the ways in which the culture we consume becomes who we are, and an inspiring call-to-arms of all the ways we still need to do better.

822.3 T

the tragical history of Doctor Faustus : The Elizabethan Play. Annotated & Edited by John D. Harris, 2018. Wabasha, MN : Hungry Point Press, 2018.

822.33 Shakespeare

Major literary characters : Hamlet. New York : Chelsea House Publishers, c. 1990.

822.8 W

Wilde, Oscar, 1854-1900. An ideal husband. Mineola, N.Y. : Dover Publications, 2000.

823.914

Vincenzi, Penny, author. Windfall. 1st U.S. ed. Sensible Cassia Fallon has been married to her doctor husband for seven years when her godmother leaves her a huge fortune. For the first time in her life, she is able to do exactly as she likes, and she starts to question her marriage, her past, her present, and her future. But where did her inheritance really come from and why? Too soon the windfall has become a corrupting force, one that Cassia cannot resist.

843.8 F

Flaubert, Gustave, 1821-1880. Three tales. Oxford ; : Oxford University Press, 2009. A simple heart -- The legend of Saint Julian the Hospitaller -- Herodias.

909 S

Sachs, Jeffrey, author. The ages of globalization : geography, technology, and institutions. "Today's most urgent problems are fundamentally global. They require nothing less than concerted, planetwide action if we are to secure a long-term future. But humanity's story has always been on a global scale, and this history deeply informs the present. In this book, Jeffrey D. Sachs, renowned economist and expert on sustainable development, turns to world history to shed light on how we can meet the challenges and opportunities of the twenty-first century. Sachs takes readers through a series of six distinct waves of technological and ideological change, starting with the very beginnings of our species and ending with reflections on present-day globalization. Along the way, he considers how the interplay of geography, technology, and institutions influenced the Neolithic revolution; the spread of land-based empires; the opening of sea routes from Europe to Asia and the Americas; and the industrial age. The dynamics of these past waves, Sachs contends, give us new perspective on the ongoing processes taking place in our own time-and how we should work to guide the change we need. In light of this new understanding of globalization, Sachs emphasizes the need for new methods of international governance and cooperation to achieve economic, social, and environmental objectives aligned with sustainable development. The Ages of Globalization is a vital book for all readers aiming to make sense of our rapidly changing world"--.

937.002 B

Bing, Stanley. Rome, inc. : the rise and fall of the first multinational corporation. 1st. ed. New York : Norton, c2006.

937.63 L

Laurence, Ray, 1963-. Ancient Rome as it was : exploring the city of Rome in AD 300.

940.3 B

Brooks, Max. The Harlem Hellfighters. First edition. "From bestselling author Max Brooks, the riveting story of the highly decorated, barrier-breaking, historic black regiment--the Harlem Hellfighters. The Harlem Hellfighters is a fictionalized account of the 369th Infantry Regiment--the first African American regiment mustered to fight in World War I. From the enlistment lines in Harlem to the training camp at Spartanburg, South Carolina, to the trenches in France, bestselling author Max Brooks tells the thrilling story of the heroic journey that these soldiers undertook for a chance to fight for America. Despite extraordinary struggles and discrimination, the 369th became one of the most successful--and least celebrated--regiments of the war. The Harlem Hellfighters, as their enemies named them, spent longer than any other American unit in combat and displayed extraordinary valor on the battlefield. Based on true events and featuring artwork from acclaimed illustrator Caanan White, these pages deliver an action-packed and powerful story of courage, honor, and heart"--. "This is a graphic novel about the first African-American regiment to fight in World War One"--.

940.53 B

Browning, Christopher R., author. Ordinary men : Reserve Police Battalion 101 and the final solution in Poland. Revised edition. One morning in Józefów -- The order police -- The order police and the Final solution : Russia 1941 -- The order police and the Final solution : deportation -- Reserve Police Battalion 101 -- Arrival in Poland -- Initiation to mass muder : the Józefów massacre -- Reflections on a massacre -- Łomazy : the descent of Second Company -- The August deportations to Treblinka -- Late-September shootings -- The deportations resume -- The strange health of Captain Hoffmann -- The "Jew hunt" -- The last massacres : "Harvest festival" -- Aftermath -- Germans, Poles, and Jews -- Ordinary men. In the early hours of July 13, 1942, the men of Reserve Police Battalion 101, a unit of the German Order Police, entered the Polish Village of Jozefow. They had arrived in Poland less than three weeks before, most of them recently drafted family men too old for combat service--workers, artisans, salesmen, and clerks. By nightfall, they had rounded up Jozefow's 1,800 Jews, selected several hundred men as "work Jews," and shot the rest--that is, some 1,500 women, children, and old people. Most of these overage, rear-echelon reserve policemen had grown to maturity in the port city of Hamburg in pre-Hitler Germany and were neither committed Nazis nor racial fanatics. Nevertheless, in the sixteen months from the Jozefow massacre to the brutal Erntefest ("harvest festival") slaughter of November 1943, these average men participated in the direct shooting deaths of at least 38,000 Jews and the deportation to Treblinka's gas chambers of 45,000 more--a total body count of 83,000 for a unit of less than 500 men. Drawing on postwar interrogations of 210 former members of the battalion, Christopher Browning lets them speak for themselves about their contribution to the Final Solution--what they did, what they thought, how they rationalized their behavior (one man would shoot only infants and children, to "release" them from their misery). In a sobering conclusion, Browning suggests that these good Germans were acting less out of deference to authority or fear of punishment than from motives as insidious as they are common: careerism and peer pressure. With its unflinching reconstruction of the battalion's murderous record and its painstaking attention to the social background and actions of individual men, this unique account offers some of the most powerful and disturbing evidence to date of the ordinary human capacity for extraordinary inhumanity.

940.54 S

Snyder, Timothy. Bloodlands : Europe between Hitler and Stalin. New York : Basic Books, c2010. Hitler and Stalin -- The Soviet famines -- Class terror -- National terror -- Molotov-Ribbentrop Europe -- The economics of apocalypse -- Final solution -- Holocaust and revenge -- The Nazi death factories -- Resistance and incineration -- Ethnic cleansings -- Stalinist antisemitism -- Humanity.

951.03 S

The search for modern China : a documentary collection. Third edition.

973 M

Meacham, Jon, author. The soul of America : the battle for our better angels. First edition. Introduction : To hope rather than to fear -- The confidence of the whole people : visions of the Presidency, the ideas of progress and prosperity, and "We, the people" -- The long shadow of Appomattox : the Lost Cause, the Ku Klux Klan, and Reconstruction -- With soul of flame and temper of steel : "the melting pot," TR and his "bully pulpit," and the Progressive promise -- A new and good thing in the world : the triumph of women's suffrage, the Red Scare, and a new Klan -- The crisis of the old order : the Great Depression, Huey Long, the New Deal, and America First -- Have you no sense of decency? : "making everyone middle class," the GI Bill, McCarthyism, and modern media -- What the hell is the presidency for? : "segregation forever," King's crusade, and LBJ in the crucible -- Conclusion : The first duty of an American citizen. "We have been here before. In this timely and revealing book, ... author Jon Meacham helps us understand the present moment in American politics and life by looking back at critical times in our history when hope overcame division and fear. With clarity and purpose, Meacham explores contentious periods and how presidents and citizens came together to defeat the forces of anger, intolerance, and extremism. Our current climate of partisan fury is not new, and in The Soul of America Meacham shows us how what Abraham Lincoln called 'the better angels of our nature' have repeatedly won the day. Painting surprising portraits of Lincoln and other presidents, including Ulysses S. Grant, Theodore Roosevelt, Woodrow Wilson, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Harry S. Truman, Dwight Eisenhower, and Lyndon B. Johnson, and illuminating the courage of such influential citizen activists as Martin Luther King, Jr., early suffragettes Alice Paul and Carrie Chapman Catt, civil rights pioneers Rosa Parks and John Lewis, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, and Army-McCarthy hearings lawyer Joseph N. Welch, Meacham brings vividly to life turning points in American history. He writes about the Civil War, Reconstruction, and the birth of the Lost Cause; the backlash against immigrants in the First World War and the resurgence of the Ku Klux Klan in the 1920s; the fight for women's rights; the demagoguery of Huey Long and Father Coughlin and the isolationist work of America First in the years before World War II; the anti-Communist witch-hunts led by Senator Joseph McCarthy; and Lyndon Johnson's crusade against Jim Crow. Each of these dramatic hours in our national life has been shaped by the contest to lead the country to look forward rather than back, to assert hope over fear--a struggle that continues even now. While the American story has not always--or even often--been heroic, we have been sustained by a belief in progress even in the gloomiest of times. In this inspiring book, Meacham reassures us, "The good news is that we have come through such darkness before"--as, time and again, Lincoln's better angels have found a way to prevail."--Dust jacket.

976.1 S

Smith, Petric J., 1940-. Long time coming : an insider's story of the Birmingham church bombing that rocked the world. 1st ed. Birmingham, Ala. : Crane Hill, 1994.

F Bir

Birch, Anna, author. I kissed Alice. First. "Fan Girl meets Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda in this #ownvoices LGBTQ romance about two rivals who fall in love online"--.

F Bra

Bradbury, Ray, 1920-2012, author. Fahrenheit 451. Simon & Schuster trade paperback edition, 60th anniversary edition. Introduction / by Neil Gaiman -- Fahrenheit 451. The hearth and the salamander ; The sieve and the sand ; Burning bright. History, context, and criticism / edited by Jonathan R. Eller. pt. 1. The story of Fahrenheit 451. The story of Fahrenheit 451 / by Jonathan R. Eller ; From The day after tomorrow: why science fiction? (1953) / by Ray Bradbury ; Listening library audio introduction (1976) / by Ray Bradbury ; Investing dimes: Fahrenheit 451 (1982, 1989) / by Ray Bradbury ; Coda (1979) / by Ray Bradbury -- pt. 2. Other voices. The novel. From a letter to Stanley Kauffmann / by Nelson Algren ; Books of the times / by Orville Prescott ; From New wine, old bottles / by Gilbert Highet ; New novels / by Idris Parry ; New fiction / by Sir John Betjeman ; 1984 and all that / by Adrian Mitchell ; From New maps of hell / by Sir Kingsley Amis ; Introduction to Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 / by Harold Bloom ; Fahrenheit 451 / by Margaret Atwood ; The motion picture. Shades of Orwell / by Arthur Knight ; From The journal of Fahrenheit 451 / by Fran©ʹois Truffaut. In a future totalitarian state where books are banned and destroyed by the government, Guy Montag, a fireman in charge of burning books, meets a revolutionary schoolteacher who dares to read and a girl who tells him of a past when people did not live in fear ... This sixtieth-anniversary edition commemorates Ray Bradbury's masterpiece with a new introduction by Neil Gaiman ; personal essays on the genesis of the novel by the author; a wealth of critical essays and reviews by Nelson Algren, Harold Bloom, Margaret Atwood, and others; rare manuscript pages and sketches from Ray Bradbury's personal archive; and much more ... --- From back cover.

F DeL

White noise. 2009; with an introduction by Richard Powers. New York, NY : Penguin Books, 2009.

F Gri

Grisham, John, author. Camino Island. First edition. Bruce Cable owns a popular bookstore in the sleepy resort town of Santa Rosa on Camino Island in Florida. He makes his real money, though, as a prominent dealer in rare books. Very few people know that he occasionally dabbles in the black market of stolen books and manuscripts. Mercer Mann is a young novelist with a severe case of writer's block who has recently been laid off from her teaching position. She is approached by an elegant, mysterious woman working for an even more mysterious company. A generous offer of money convinces Mercer to go undercover and infiltrate Bruce Cable's circle of literary friends, ideally getting close enough to him to learn his secrets. But eventually Mercer learns far too much.--Adapted from book jacket.

F Hem

Hemingway, Ernest, 1899-1961, author. The sun also rises. The Hemingway library edition. The novel -- Appendix I: Pamplona, July 1923 -- Appendix II: Early drafts -- Appendix III: The discarded first chapters -- Appendix IV: List of possible titles. A profile of the Lost Generation captures life among the expatriates on Paris' Left Bank during the 1920s, the brutality of bullfighting in Spain, and the moral and spiritual dissolution of a generation.

F Hur

Hurston, Zora Neale. Their eyes were watching god. 1st Harper Perennial Modern Classics ed. New York : Harper Perennial Modern Classics, 2006. Foreword / Edwidge Danticat -- Their eyes were watching God -- Afterword / Henry Louis Gates, Jr. -- Selected bibliography -- Chronology. A novel about black Americans in Florida that centers on the life of Janie and her three marriages.

F Kid

Kidd, Sue Monk. The invention of wings. The story follows Hetty "Handful" Grimke, a Charleston slave, and Sarah, the daughter of the wealthy Grimke family. The novel begins on Sarah's eleventh birthday, when she is given ownership over Handful, who is to be her handmaid, and follows the next thirty-five years of their lives. Inspired in part by the historical figure of Sarah Grimke (a feminist, suffragist and, importantly, an abolitionist), the author allows herself to go beyond the record to flesh out the inner lives of all the characters, both real and imagined. -- Provided by publisher. "Hetty 'Handful' Grimke, an urban slave in early nineteenth century Charleston, yearns for life beyond the suffocating walls that enclose her within the wealthy Grimke household. The Grimke's daughter, Sarah, has known from an early age she is meant to do something large in the world, but she is hemmed in by the limits imposed on women. The novel is set in motion on Sarah's eleventh birthday, when she is given ownership of ten year old Handful, who is to be her handmaid. We follow their remarkable journeys over the next thirty five years, as both strive for a life of their own, dramatically shaping each other's destinies and forming a complex relationship marked by guilt, defiance, estrangement and the uneasy ways of love. As the stories build to a riveting climax, Handful will endure loss and sorrow, finding courage and a sense of self in the process. Sarah will experience crushed hopes, betrayal, unrequited love, and ostracism before leaving Charleston to find her place alongside her fearless younger sister, Angelina, as one of the early pioneers in the abolition and women's rights movements. Inspired by the historical figure of Sarah Grimke, the author goes beyond the record to flesh out the rich interior lives of all of her characters, both real and invented, including Handful's cunning mother, Charlotte, who courts danger in her search for something better. This novel looks with unswerving eyes at a devastating wound in American history, through women whose struggles for liberation, empowerment, and expression will leave no reader unmoved. -- Publisher's description.

F Nab

Vladimir Nabokov. Glory. United States : McGraw-Hill International, Inc, 1971.

F Orw

Orwell, George, 1903-1950. 1984. Signet Classics. New York, NY : Berkley: an imprint of Penguin Random House, LLC, c. 1977. "Eternal warfare is the price of bleak prosperity in this satire of totalitarian barbarism."--ARBookFind.

F Sal

Salinger, J. D. (Jerome David), 1919-2010. Nine stories. 1st Back Bay pbk. ed. Boston : Back Bay Books/Little, Brown, 2001, c1991. A perfect day for bananafish -- Uncle wiggily in Connecticut -- Just before the war with the Eskimos -- The laughing man -- Down at the dinghy -- For Esme--with love and squalor -- Pretty mouth and green my eyes -- De Daumier-Smith's blue period -- Teddy. Salinger's classic collection of short stories is now available in trade paperback.

F Tho

Thomas, Angie, author. The hate u give. First edition. "Sixteen-year-old Starr Carter moves between two worlds: the poor neighborhood where she lives and the fancy suburban prep school she attends. The uneasy balance between these worlds is shattered when Starr witnesses the fatal shooting of her childhood best friend Khalil at the hands of a police officer. Khalil was unarmed. Soon afterward, his death is a national headline. Some are calling him a thug, maybe even a drug dealer and a gangbanger. Protesters are taking to the streets in Khalil's name. Some cops and the local drug lord try to intimidate Starr and her family. What everyone wants to know is: what really went down that night? And the only person alive who can answer that is Starr. But what Starr does or does not say could upend her community. It could also endanger her life"--.

F Tho

Thomas, Angie, author. On the come up. First edition. Sixteen-year-old Bri hopes to become a great rapper, and after her first song goes viral for all the wrong reasons, must decide whether to sell out or face eviction with her widowed mother.

F Tol

The Hobbit : or There and Back Again. First U.S. edition; Illus. by Jemima Catlin, 2013. New York, NY : HarperCollins Publishers, 2013.

F Ver

Around the world in 80 days. Classics. Trans. by Geo. M. Towle. Lexington, KY, : October 29. 2019.

F Ver

Around the world in 80 days. Illustrated First Edition. Translated by Geo. M. Towle. Orinda, CA : SeaWolf Press, 2018.

F. Gri

Belfry Holdings, Inc. (Charlottesville, Virginia), author. Camino winds : a novel. Hardcover. "#1 New York Times bestselling author John Grisham returns to Camino Island in this irresistible page-turner that's as refreshing as an island breeze. In Camino Winds, mystery and intrigue once again catch up with novelist Mercer Mann, proving that the suspense never rests-even in paradise"--.

SC A

Alomar, Osama, 1968- author, translator. The teeth of the comb & other stories.

SC Mac

Machado, Carmen Maria, author. Her body and other parties : stories. Contains short stories about the realities of women's lives and the violence visited upon their bodies. "In Her Body and Other Parties, Carmen Maria Machado blithely demolishes the arbitrary borders between psychological realism and science fiction, comedy and horror, fantasy and fabulism. While her work has earned her comparisons to Karen Russell and Kelly Link, she has a voice that is all her own. In this electric and provocative debut, Machado bends genre to shape startling narratives that map the realities of women's lives and the violence visited upon their bodies. A wife refuses her husband's entreaties to remove the green ribbon from around her neck. A woman recounts her sexual encounters as a plague slowly consumes humanity. A salesclerk in a mall makes a horrifying discovery within the seams of the store's prom dresses. One woman's surgery-induced weight loss results in an unwanted houseguest. And in the bravura novella 'Especially Heinous,' Machado reimagines every episode of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, a show we naïvely assumed had shown it all, generating a phantasmagoric police procedural full of doppelgängers, ghosts, and girls with bells for eyes. Earthy and otherworldly, antic and sexy, queer and caustic, comic and deadly serious, Her Body and Other Parties swings from horrific violence to the most exquisite sentiment. In their explosive originality, these stories enlarge the possibilities of contemporary fiction." -- Publisher's description.

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hanaa-chann · 5 years ago

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30 days of Vnc : Day 5

5. What do you think about Teacher/The Shapeless One?

I am really interested about him... The role he played while he was with the vampire Queen, his “nature” and origins and also why does he keep smiling non-stop

About his origins I first assumed he was Domi and Louis’s granfather but then Ruthven mentinoed his “adoptive children” in chapter 19 , meaning that their father and Teacher aren’t related by blood... making him even more mysterious..

The only person who seems to know about him Ruthven. Maybe they were friends before and became enemies later on ? Ruthven did call him “monster” so he might actually be a bad guy...

He can change form, but we don’t know exactly how. Can he tranform himself into someone else ? Animals or even objects ? Chapter 43 gave us a hint at this regards and now I’m all excited xD

About the Murr-is-Noé’s-teacher-theory, I feel like this might be true just because Vanitas didn’t gave a damn about him and that is way too suspicious for me. And those weird eyes too...

He reminds me of Break, because of his smile and the way he approached Noé seems so similar to the way with Break and Gilbert. But he also reminds me of Levi , because he kind of used Louis as an experiment and likes to observe things and people making choices... like Louis.

However there is something that bothers me about his sources of informations. In chapter 1 he told Noé that the book of Vanitas was located in Paris,meaning he knew about Vanitas’s trip on La Baleine in order to treat Amelia. But Vanitas said that it was after reading Amelia’s letter that he knew her symptoms could manifest at any moment and changed his plan. He wasn’t even supposed to be on La Baleine and yet it was as if Teacher knew all of this. He bought Noé the exact tickets with the same day and hour as Amelia and Vanitas. How did he know ?

But I don’t see him as a bad person , I can’t help but think that he’s a nice guy despite everything. I refuse to believe that he took him in only to be used as pawn or guinea pig. He bought Noé and released him from his chains, and then he raised him as a student. One could say that he purposely made sure that Noé came off as naive and innocent about the world as a two years old child but Noé did have access to his library and all his books... just like Louis and Louis seems to know way more things than Noé but again it might just be that Teacher chose which information he could have access to... just like he placed the books about curse bearer right in front of Louis. And actually.... while I reread chapter 9 I saw something that looked like eyes on the shelves? I mean I’m not sure but hey, even if it is just some decoration, that is creepy as hell 8D

I don’t really trust him cause his eyes are hidden because really can change into anything at anytime,his identity isn’t stable... but I can’t hate him either. Guess we’ll have to wait for Mochijun to unwrap the mystery around him !

#30 days of vanitas no carte #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #vanitas no shuki #vnc #les memoires de vanitas #manga

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drshojo · 6 years ago

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The Case Study for Having the Hottest Character in a Vampire Story be a Self-Proclaimed Average Human.

You ever tell yourself you ought to marry a nice doctor?

Did you spend your tween-aged years day dreaming about some hot goth vampire boy?

Do you like your characters with manic smiles and unhinged personalities?

If you answered NO to any or all three of these points you should STILL read The Case Study of Vanitas by Jun Mochizuki. It's really quite Good.

If you answered YES to any of these, you then you probably saw the hot unhinged vampire doctor and aren’t even reading this anymore. For you that’s enough information to dive head first into this Kool-Aid. I'm not judging. But I see you there.

Okay, okay so backing up a bit, it was recently my birthday so I decided to Treat Myself. I picked up a manga that I had never heard of, though I liked the cover. When I flipped through the pages I caught sight of this panel:

AND YOU KNOW I CAN STAN A BASIC BINCH. NO POWERS ONLY SASS. And then I flipped a bit more and I saw this gem:

DAMMMMMMMN SON YOUR WORDS SAY YOU’RE GOING TO SAVE LIVES BUT YOUR EYES AND THESE BLOOD SPLATTERS SAY YOU’RE GOING TO MURDER SOMEONE. It’s the Gap Moe I never knew I wanted.

And then I saw this face:

And that’s when the money left my wallet.

SO, what on earth did I buy? Wat is this story even? Well we’re about to get into my plot overview and review! Spoilers ahead! ALTHOUGH it’s worth noting that I'm only reviewing volume one AND only summarizing chapter one so you’re probably fine.

Our story begins with a vampire called Noe. Noe lives in a world where vampires and humans coexist, so him being a vampire is Not a Big Deal. More important to his character is that he's looking for this book called the Book of Vanitas.

A side note about Noe—

I bought this story for Vanitas but Noe is Best Boi.

HE IS A PURE CINNAMON ROLL. Noe is at heart a country bumpkin who can see beauty and wonder in everything. He’s polite, a tad blunt, and he loves his cat Murr. He also has a backbone and a strong sense of justice. Bless him.

Anyways Noe goes with his cat to look for this book. He’s having a good time too; he has never been on an airship before so he’s super excited. He also has never been to Paris so he’s thrilled at the thought of traveling. He’s just very wide eyed and ready for adventure to happen to him and it’s incredibly endearing.

And lo! Adventure happens!

He meets a young woman named Amelia who turns out to be a Sick Vampire, and then she has a bit of a psychotic breakdown because it turns out there's some evil force infecting vampires that makes them go feral and corrupt their True Names (which seems to work via fae logic in this universe—so think of a vampire’s name as their soul?)

Anyways, sick vampire! What do you do if there's a sick vampire? Do you need a vampire doctor?

Yes! Yes, you do! That’s where Vanitas comes in. He crashes through the ceiling because why the fuck not

--and because he looks like such a ruffian that we pretty much assume he is here to kill Amelia. But nope.

He’s a vampire doctor and wants to save all the vampires even though he himself is a human. So, he rescues Amelia and turns her back from a raging demon to just regular undead citizen and all’s well that ends well.

And then Vanitas is like, “OH HEY Noe! You're our protagonist and audience viewpoint! Why don’t you join me in saving the vampires! AND guess what! I also own this book you were looking for! It’s the source of all my power!”

And Noe tells him “NO. I DON’T LIKE YOU.”

And so, the series ends and they go their separate ways.

Lol. As if. Poor Noe, he’s got a case of unwilling protagonist syndrome. But Joseph Campbell and the rest of us know that the heroic quest cycle will soon dictate his call to action!

Like it or not, Noe and Vanitas are going to be glued together from now on. Let the vampire adventure hijinks ensue!

Anyways, now for the review portion of our post.

Obviously, the immediate appeal for this manga is the art. Jun Mochizuki is a veteran of the industry and it really shows. Each panel is beautifully laid out; the art and expressions are detailed and clear. Even small throw-away panels are given their due, and they even went so far as to hire some designers to draw some of the more complicated stuff, like the airship. They did not cheap out on the background details AT ALL.

The other big draw for this manga is the banter. Noe and Vanitas are so incredibly likable yet distinct in their personalities—Noe being the naïve but earnest straight man and Vanitas being the hyper yet cynical jokester. They really complement each other and any scenes they have together are a treat.

The only thing I’m not sure of is the plot. I’ve only read volume one but so far it’s already foreshadowing a ton of mysteries so I really hope the author knows where they are going. Nothing’s worse than a story that hints at a lot but doesn't pay off (COUGH COUGH GAME OF THRONES COUGH GOUGH)

What I can attest to is that the action sequences are excellent. They are clear, well-staged and engaging. Manga has so much trouble staging action sometimes but it’s done well here, which is good because this manga looks like there will be a ton of fights with vamps gone wild.

Anyways, if any of this at all piques your interest, give it a read! Heck, it even has an endorsement from Hiromu Arakawa (the mangaka of Full Metal Alchemist fame) so if you don’t believe me, believe one of the gods of the industry!

Anyways, let me know if you have read this and what you think, or if you have any series you want me to look at next!

Ciao!

Dr. Shojo

#A case study of Vanitas #vanitas #Noe #jun mochizuki #Vanitasu no Karute #Noé Archiviste #vampire #Steam punk #Vanitas no carte #Manga review #Dr Shojo

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flovverworks · 2 years ago

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rereading ch12 of pt1 cuz i wanted to find the rutile part but this line is SOOOOOOO akiras so funny

Akira: Shino, where are you going? The party hall is in the opposite direction..... Shino: I'm going home. Akira: Oh, I see, you're going ho... Huh!? W-wait! Please wait! He's gone already.... where did he go!?

mhyk comedy my beloved

but also akira realizing & stopping the potential of shino flying away by grabbing him so they could properly talk..T_^ shino & akiras relation is so precious to me. shino asking if its part of akiras job as sage to ask why hes feeling like that/what happened/why were they fighting, but akiras just genuinly wants to know. sages heart. aauururgghhh.... (also the added of shinos whole selfworth but thats another essay)

I can tell from his powerful gaze that he’s not pondering over whether to tell me; rather, he’s peering into my identity. Like a stray cat that’s trying to decide if it should approach you or ignore you and move on. And once those stray cats decide to come close to you, they fear nothing.

Shino gazes at me with the eyes of a child begging for a rainbow. I laugh and grasp his hand. Akira: You’re right..... Let’s defeat the < Great Catastrophe > and become heroes who save the world. Let’s build you a magnificent castle, Shino. Shino: Can we? Really? Akira: I’ll do my very best. I’ll become an amazing Sage so that everyone will hear out my wishes.

DO U GET MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

i forgot the 'mixer' confusion happens at the party too skull emoji arthur......last sage u....

Faust: I’m headed out to take a break. My excuse is that I’m still recovering from my injuries. Nero: Yeah, sure — you mean you hate parties. Faust: I mean I hate this castle.

head in hands. essay about faust and alec

there it is

...

i have so much to say that i dont even know where to start let me make a separate figaro post one day cuz what in the actual hell

He graciously offers me his hand, but my nerves are still buzzing. Figaro’s words are seductive, and his smile, charming — I can tell that he’s trying to seem harmless. But there’s still something strangely terrifying about him: if I take his hand, I feel like I’m going to get swallowed whole.

Figaro: But I want to dance with you. Akira: ....Why....? Figaro: Because I want to make you my puppet. Figaro replies calmly with a smile. Figaro: The Sage keeps the wizards in the magic headquarters together. If I want him to do my bidding — don’t you think the fastest way to accomplish that would be to make him fall in love with me? Akira: What....? Figaro: Because when you fall in love, you can give up your heart to those you do not trust — and even to those you loathe. I’m asking you to join me in that act. ....How about it? Won’t you dance with me? I can’t believe my ears; he’s saying such horrific things in such a kind, sweet voice that it makes my head spin. I stare at Figaro in shock. He’s neither making a fool of me, nor is he trying to laugh at me. He just continues smiling with a kind, gentle gaze.

unreal conversation from start to finish. thinks of his june bride card too. god. also thinking about how akira almost gets trapped in it anyway despite recognizing that something is Very Very Wrong. beyond hilarious that figaro says all this and then falls in love first (joke)

but really that one figaro card about 'do you still hesitate to take my hand?' T____^ in general the way this convo happens and their relation turning into a very considerate toward e/o on both sides makes me. i cant explain it. its the careful thoughts & actions in caring for e/o without words.

Figaro looks like a hapless father as Mitile takes his hand and drags him away. He’s a completely different person from earlier.

LOOOOORRRRDDDDDD

Snow: I’m sorry, Sage. Figaro doesn’t mean to hurt you. White: He’s just a terrible person from his very core......

unwell

anyway unbelieveable how the source of everything no matter what is murr

Heathcliff: Please, I don’t quite see how the Northern wizards could be described as gentle. You must be talking about the Southern wizards. See, like Mister Rutile...... At that moment, the Southern wizard Rutile walks right up to Nicholas. Rutile: What do you mean by that!? Heathcliff: ............

THIS IS THE PAERT LMFAAOOOOO ITS SO FUNNY

Rutile: Then what are you? You, who did not even fight the < Great Catastrophe >? I believe that would make you less than useless, would it not?

god u r my everything go rutile go. i have no further comment this is just one of my favorite moments of all time i love the flores brothers. excellent characters

#stardust speaking !#tldr review: ch12 is an unreal chapter i could not believe what i was seeing the first time i read it and i still can not believe it. 10/10

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theateared · 5 years ago

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Short drabble detailing a fucked-up scenario I got suddenly inspired to explore while out walking, we love flash horror fiction up in this bitch. All dialogue is in Hural.

_____ . ( 🞮 ) . _____

“How could you do this…? You were always such a dream boy.”

In retrospect, holding an axe high above his head felt right, though only to a small piece of him. The sky was red, thick muddy clouds hanging low over him as he stared into the reprehensible eyes of the person, besides himself, that he hated the most.

Kneeling in front of him, looking frightfully small as he gazed up at his supposed ‘’dream boy’’, his uncle lay in wait. His face had gone pale, hands raised as if to protect his face, body trembling as he gazed at the gleam produced by the abnormally large weapon. One fell swoop and he’d be sliced into ribbons, this he knew, yet he couldn’t find it in him to move. Frozen with fear perhaps, or just regrettably resigned, he just couldn’t convince himself to run away. He was both bewildered and awestruck by this version of Aléjandro Murphy.

“I never promised you that,” Murr hissed through clenched teeth. Despite the raw emotion in his voice, his face betrayed none of it, blank slate bared to the world as if waiting for it to leave its mark on him. “My parents never promised you that either.”

“They failed you, Alé…”

“They didn’t fail me. I failed them.”

The Murphys were a generation of good people. Life lottery winners, always acquiring fortune as predecessors, but unmistakably humble and hard-working. Not without flaws, all with independent vices, but always good deep down, despite it all. He was convinced that he was the odd link; the devil thinly disguised as its shiny brethren, makeshift halo comprised of bleeding thorns and mangled fingers alight only because of the red rage that sat inside of him like an open flame. Like a neon sign, his faux virtue flickered and buzzed, attracting only the loneliest of insects before zapping them to dust.

“You won’t do this… you can’t…” Though he was trembling, Lonnie’s voice came out smooth. In an almost victorious fashion, he craned his neck further, exposing his throat, eyes flitting from the sharp edge of the axe to the angular curve of Aléjandro’s jaw. His gaze kept crawling further upwards until it could meet Murr’s own, red and gold seeming to lock as if connected via electricity. “You wouldn’t do this to your mother. You were her angel.”

There was a moment of hesitation. He was wrong… he was the furthest thing from an angel, but it didn’t mean that his mother hadn’t thought he was one. All the time they’d spent together, she’d treated him as if he was a light source, as if he was capable of exuding the same sweetness that she was-- as if he was good. He’d tried to tell her repeatedly that it was misplaced, that he ruined everything, that he made her cry, but she would never have any of it. She believed in him wholly. That was what made this turn of events so incredibly painful for him.

“You wouldn’t do this to your father. You were his good boy.”

There was a harsh sting in his chest, heart constricting as if seized by a fist; as if somebody had jammed an arm down his throat and dug around in search of the emptiest cavity, filling it only with searching spindles and shadows. His father had always been doing that… looking for the good in him. Even when he’d been faced with the terrible things that his son had done, he’d turned a blind eye, told him that everybody made mistakes, that he was still learning-- was he always going to be fucking learning?

“And you wouldn’t do this to Kuro.”

Nothing made sense in that moment. Despite the harsh glare that shaped his eyes, focus had left them. He became acutely aware of the fact that he didn’t feel in control of himself-- as if he was on strings, simply obeying the whims of his puppeteer. Was this all he was worth? Was his pain just a street corner dime act? A one-hit wonder before his mysterious master vanished in a puff of smoke?

“You won’t kill me because you know that Kuro will never forgive you if you do. You won’t do it because you know that the only thing he’d grace you with ever again, for the rest of your life, is disappointment. And you can’t live with that. Can you, Alé?” He paused a moment, amber eyes gaining light when Murr remained wordless. Even now, even with his most hated enemy at his feet, he was so weak. “You love him, don’t you? That’s the problem. You need him! You can’t live without him! That’s the reason you’re even here, isn’t it? You can’t go off the rails otherwise he’ll know, because he’ll be the one to clean it up! Can you imagine that? Being arrested by your best friend? Ohhh, that’d eat you, wouldn’t it? Admit it, Alé. You want to cry just thinking about it, don’t you? Go ahead, you fuckin’ bitch. Go ahead and c--”

KER-SPLAT.

The only thing he was immediately aware of was the smell of blood. His face was wet, though not with tears, fingers clenched oh-so-tightly around the handle of the now-messy weapon. He was trembling madly, like a tent in a blizzard, but he remained standing, dry-eyed and angry.

Did I do that? Did I really just kill my uncle?

Crimson eyes watched as drops of red began to stain the grass below, Lonnie’s dark hand moving to try and stop it from pouring all over his lap. He was dying, albeit slowly, a look of confused horror gradually settling on his face as his eyes rolled upwards to look at him once more. He was so shocked ( and so injured ) that he was unable to speak, fumbling over his words before he finally decided on a redundant: “You… you actually…”

“Yes… I did…” As if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. The weapon was lowered slightly, the quiver in his body gradually lessening the closer to the ground it got. By the time the muddied tip met the soil, the tremors had left him completely. “And… my heart is empty…”

It hit him like a train. I don’t care. I don’t CARE. I DON’T CARE!

“I feel… nothing.” His stare was unfocused, mouth forming a stunned frown. I don’t care that I failed my mother. I don’t care that I failed my father. I don’t care that I failed Kuro, or Tilly, or my loyal fanbase-- I don’t care about any of that. I just don’t care about anything. “M-My… my heart…” He was overwhelmed with it then: joy. He was choking up, eyes filling with a disconcerting light, madness casting its doomsday shadow over his face as he began to smile, then grin, unable to control himself. “My heart is empty. My heart is EMPTY.” He couldn’t resist, axe pulled back before he swung it forwards once more, screaming with exhilarated laughter as he felt the void spread throughout his chest. Lonnie’s head separated from his body, flung a short distance away. He kept swinging, occasionally hitting the lifeless corpse, mostly cutting through air, blood occasionally reacquainting itself with his skin. It was like heaven-- no, it was like hell, and that was what made it feel like home. It felt as if he was wailing over some blessed news; the birth of his child; the day of his marriage; the minute of his death. Laughing like a maniac: “FUCK HIM! HE CAN COME AND GET ME ‘CAUSE MY HEART IS EMPTY!”

_____ . ( 🞮 ) . _____

Aléjandro awoke with a start, heart beating wildly in his chest, covers thrown off of him as he shot upright in bed. A thin layer of sweat covered his forehead as he panted for air, clammy hands pressed tightly against his chest as if attempting to soothe the raging rhythm inside. Tilly followed shortly after, tender hands meeting his rigid back, soft voice asking what had startled him so-- he told her nothing, even though it was clearly a lie.

She eventually managed to coax him back into bed, her head meeting his chest, arms wrapped around him defensively. He laid there like a subdued demon, staring into the dark, heartbeat transforming from its pounding beat to a gentle thrum. It was just a dream. Of course it was just a dream…

He fell asleep thinking the same comforting thought to himself over and over again: My heart is empty. My heart is empty. My heart is empty.

#☆ — i never promised you your dream boy. ❜ ( main. )#☆ — i'm just here to destroy. ❜ ( ic. )#drabble *#WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWHEEEEEEE #ngl actually kinda fuckin like this?#there's probably some stuff i need beta-ing but i'll do that tomorrow #for now i'll let it sit here for a bit and re-read it when i'm NOT scrabbling to go to work at five am pfft #so yeah-- a full edit will probably come tomorrow if there're typos or whatever

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aurora1040 · 4 years ago

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The mystery of knitting ... remains a mystery

Knitters create holes with string using sticks and a clickety-clickety noise.

April 5, 2017

By Murr Brewster

I’ll just put it right out there: Knitting is spooky. It’s obviously impossible to do, and yet you see people doing it all the time. These people clearly are a superior life-form. If you doubt this, spend a day with a dozen of your friends. At the end of the evening, have a look around: Eleven of you will have cookie crumbs in your laps, and the knitter will have an entire sweater.

That’s just freaky. Because knitting makes no sense at all. A knitter, by definition, creates holes by surrounding them with string, using sticks, a clickety-clickety noise, locally sourced air, and goodness.

Those of us who suspect we are not innately good can barely aspire to the art. And yet, I so aspired. I wanted a hat.

I bought a ball of string and some sticks and I found a tutorial online. After stopping the video four or five hundred times, I cast on 50 stitches. Then, staring hard, and trying to make my sticks and string match up to the video, I succeeded in making an entire knit stitch.

Then I made another one. And somehow, with great care and deliberation, I soldiered my way to the end of the row, 50 knits in a line. It was a triumph of historic proportions.

Slow, yes; challenging, sure; and yet majestic and powerful. I felt like Hannibal marching his elephants across the Alps into Italy.

I consulted the tutorial. They don’t warn you about this when you’re learning how to knit, so I’ll tell you now: You can’t just learn to knit. You have to learn to purl, also.

“Hit the boats!” I heard Hannibal shout. “We’re headed to Sardinia!”

Nuts! I studied the video again, and I manufactured a single purl stitch, and then another, and eventually rowed my way back to the beginning. According to the calm and cheerful woman in the video, that’s all there is to it. If you can make a knit stitch, and you can make a purl stitch, you’re on the road to glory. You can make cable-knit trousers for an octopus. I was beginning to be suspicious of her, but I carried on.

Something dreadful kept happening to the last stitch in my row and I didn’t have a clue how to fix it, so I ripped everything out and started over. Five or six times. Then I got a running start and some momentum and completed several rows. It was awesome. Why, it was starting to look like a sweater! For a pencil. A pencil sweater. But still! My speed and rhythm increased.

Pride goeth before a fail.

All of a sudden I noticed a mistake a few rows back. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew where it was. I could point right at it. My splurket slipped off my nobbin or something. There was a disturbance in the Force.

The problem was knowing what to do about it. A knitter will recognize that one little portion of the string needs to go up and under another portion, behind the nether-bits of yet another portion, do the hokey-pokey, and spring triumphantly out the top, but I am not yet a knitter, and I couldn’t see this at all. I, in fact, could not have been more baffled if I had been plunked down in front of the controls of the Lunar Module and told to “land this thing.”

So I pulled out all the stitches until it was a big pile of wrinkly string and began again.

This was like starting a cross-country trip over because you missed an exit in Iowa, but I reasoned it was all good practice. I lumbered through another dozen rows and bollixed it up somehow again, and pulled it all out again.

If I keep going backward this way, I’m going to be face to face with the original donor sheep. I will not only have made no progress, but sweaters will begin to go missing from my closet. >I’m not giving up, though. I’m getting better. In fact, now I can knit like nobody’s business. Nobody’s successful business, anyway. And as soon as I learn to de-bollix, I’ll have me a hat.

“[Knitters] are clearly a superior life-form.” #truth #knitting (at Needlepoints West)

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escarghosting · 8 years ago

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Hello hello @eli-and-fictional-sons!! Coincidentally, I was also your secret santa for the @vncsecretsanta! Here’s you’re gift; it’s sort of a college au, but there’s hardly any mention if college so *shrugs* I had fun writing it! This is my first fic for vnc so if either of them seem ooc, that’s why lol. Hope you enjoy it! Happy new years!

Title: Love Thy Neighbor

Rating: T, mostly for swearing

Word count: 1536

Summary: Vanitas really doesn’t like his neighbor. Really. No matter how attractive he may be. So why exactly does he agree let him use his shower?

Vanitas really…didn’t like his next door neighbor.

Noe was his name. Ever since the guy moved in, there was always something the other did that pissed them off. It all started when Noe started parking in Vanitas’ spot. No matter how often he yelled at him about it, Noe still managed to park in his spot at least once a week. Things just went downhill from there.

At some point in the past 5 months of living next to each other, Vanitas started going out of his way to piss Noe off; his favorite was playing loud music early in the morning, because Noe was nothing but grumpy without at least 8 hours of sleep. Yes, Vanitas was that petty.

But what really peeved Vanitas about Noe is how…perfect he was. When Vanitas wasn’t doing things to annoy him, Noe was actually pretty nice. He gave Vanitas rides sometimes when the weather was too bad to take his bike (although music in the car was another source of tension between them), and he checked up on him often to make sure he was eating and sleeping well, because “no one should look as dead as you do” (which, unsurprisingly, aggravated Vanitas to no end). He was naïve, but it was kind of endearing. Sometimes.

He was also fine as hell, not that Vanitas would ever admit it. Tall, well-built, pretty eyes, and to-the point about everything. Noe might as well be the man of Vanitas’ dreams, and he hated it.

…Okay, maybe he had a teeny tiny crush.

It didn’t matter anyway, nothing would ever come of it. Why would Noe ever like him back? All Vanitas did was purposefully annoy him. Most of their conversations consisted of pointed glares and hardly contained anger, mostly from Vanitas. Noe deserved to be with someone much better than him.

‘Maybe you guys just need to get together, let out that awkward sexual tension. I bet you that’s the reason you’re always so cranky with each other, idiot.’

Vanitas slammed the butter knife down on the counter. Screw Dante and his stupid advice! What did he know anyway? He was just some baldy with as much romance experience as a doormat. That was the last thing he needed to be thinking about right now. He stared down at his unfinished peanut butter sandwich. He couldn’t eat now, he was too bitter. Maybe I’ll just take a hot shower and lay down for the night, he thought. It wasn’t even 9:00, but there’s nothing wrong with a little extra sleep, right? In fact, Noe would probably be proud—

Ohhh, no. That thought was going to end right there. Vanitas dragged himself to the bathroom—which wasn’t very far in this tiny apartment—but before he could turn on the faucet, there was a knock at the door.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Who could possibly be knocking at this hour?” Vanitas muttered angrily. He was in no mood to humor anyone for anything. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Vanitas stomped over to the door and flung it open. “This had better be impor—”

Standing in the hallway was none other than Noe himself. He was holding a towel and a hair brush in one arm, dressed in his loose white pajamas. The look on his face was awkward and somewhat...pained?

Vanitas couldn’t stop himself from admiring the other man. The way strands of white hair fell into his face, or how his shirt hugged his broad shoulders...

Stooooooop!

“What do you want? This had better be important, Noe,” he spat.

Noe pursed his lips. “I need to use your shower.”

“…Why can’t you use yours?” At this Noe shuffled his feet, looking anywhere but Vanitas. Was he… embarrassed?

“You see,” he started, “I may have tripped over Murr heading to the shower, and ripped the shower head from the wall trying to catch myself.”

Vanitas just stared. Of course Noe would manage to do something like that.

Thinking it over, he supposed there was no harm in letting him in. Call it payback for all the times Noe’s helped him. It was a little annoying that he’d have to let Noe take one first, but the was no way he was waiting around Vanitas’ apartment until he was done. Besides, this way he could take as long as he wanted.

“I guess,” he sighed, stepping aside to let him in. He swore Noe had stars in his eyes when he thanked him. Weirdo.

Noe stepped in to the apartment, looking around like he’d never been in there before. “Our showers are probably the same,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “So I don’t think I have to help you—hey! Don’t touch that!”

Vanitas was an art student, but since he and Noe weren’t friends, the other had never seen anything Vanitas had made. He had been working on a minimalist human sculpture for a class earlier, and must’ve forgotten to put it away because Noe was about to pick it up good lord.

He grabbed Noe’s arm before he could touch it, glaring at him. “It’s wet! I don’t need you squishing it with your inhuman strength!”

Noe blinked at him. “Oh. Sorry. I’ve never seen someone make something like this before, I wanted to know what it felt like. You’re really good at this!”

So naïve but so cute. Noe was practically sparkling. He didn’t say anything he didn’t mean; he really thought Vanitas’ half-assed sculpture was cool. Vanitas could feel the annoyance drain from him with every second.

“Whatever. Just go take your shower. You have 10 minutes!”

“Sure, but you’re gonna have to let go of me first, Vanitas.”

Vanitas blinked. He was still holding Noe’s arm. And when did they get so close? Vanitas (very calmly, mind you) let go and stepped back, clearing his throat. “Right.”

Noe nodded and headed to the bathroom. “And don’t touch anything you don’t need to!” Vanitas called after him.

As soon as the door shut, Vanitas was on the couch, internally screaming at himself. How could he be more awkward! All he did was grab his arm! Nothing weird about that. It was the first time he’d ever actually touched Noe though, and he was every bit as muscular as he looked, god damn. It would be a while before he’d forget about that discovery.

By the time the ten minutes were up, Vanitas had mostly gotten himself together. Enough to realize the shower was still running. He got up and banged on the bathroom door. “Noe! Come on! You better not use up all my hot water, I swear.”

The shower quickly shut off, followed by scrambled footsteps. ‘Please don’t slip, I don’t need you breaking my shower, too,’ he hoped.

A minute later, the door opened, and Vanitas thought he actually might die that night.

The first thing he noticed was Noe’s hair. He’d never seen it so curly. In hindsight, it only made sense; Noe’s hair shouldn’t have been that straight. He just couldn’t picture Noe using a straightener without severely burning himself. (Then again, no one should have white hair at 19, so could you really blame him?) It was still soaking wet, dripping down into the towel around his neck.

The next thing he noticed was that Noe Archiviste was shirtless and dripping wet in his apartment.

He just couldn’t catch a break, could he.

Vanitas had never been more grateful for his amazing poker face, because if he was, he’d probably look like a firetruck right then. “It’s about time,” he grumbled, pointedly looking away from Noe. He was dense, but there’s no way he wouldn’t notice Vanitas all but drooling over his body.

“Sorry Vanitas, guess I lost track of time.” Vanitas hummed in acknowledgement. Suddenly, his face was in Vanitas’ line of sight. He was carefully studying Vanitas’ face. “What’s wrong? You seem crankier than usual.”

Damn him and his skill for reading people. He refused to meet Noe’s eyes. “Tch. Nothing’s wrong. Can you just put your shirt on and leave so I can go back to enjoying my night?”

Noe stood back up. He could hear the shirt being pulled over his head. “By the way, your shower curtain’s a horrible color. My eyes hurt just looking at it.”

Vanitas whipped his head around to retort because it was a nice shade of blue dammit, but his words died in his throat. Noe had a soft smile on his face, and he was chuckling softly, and Vanitas felt like he might actually melt.

“Thanks for letting me use your shower,” he said as he started driying his hair. “Hey, I know this place that has amazing tarte tatin; you should come with me sometime.” All Vanitas could do was nod and give a soft “sure”. He was only half-listening; he was too focused on the fact that Noe was actually smiling at him.

Noe nodded. “Great. I guess I’ll see you around then?” he didn’t wait for a response before leaving Vanitas star-struck in his own apartment.

‘Wait a minute. Did Noe just ask me out on a date?’

Maybe this night wasn’t as horrible as he thought.

~~~

(A/N: the little shirtless Noe scene was supposed to be more descriptive with more freaking out from Vani, but half way through writing this, I remembered the Shirtless Kylo Ren meme and I had a hell of a time writing that part without dying of laughter i’m sorry

Also I totally threw in my headcanon that Noe has naturally somewhat-curly hair bc come on he’s black for goodness sake)

#vncsecretsanta #vanitas no carte #vnc #eli-and-fictional-sons #apparently i don't know how to keep a fic short these days it was not supposed to be this long #lol #i had so many ideas since you didn't want a specific prompt #but this was the easiest i think #but now i have ideas for MORE vnc fics so thank you #hope you like it!#by me #fic

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