#black river falls harbor

[cheriiyaya]

Chapter 2: Children playing adults

in which, you find him again.

Contents: fem!reader, banterrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, light cursing, no real warnings, dazai calls himself shuuji tsushima

A/N: ahh the second chapter is here!! I hope you guys enjoy it :D masterlist for the fic

You hadn't seen the boy again, since that incident by the river. Neither had you found any evidence to trace the identity of the demon prodigy. At this point, you joked to yosano that he probably didn't exist and was just some sort of "bogyman" in the underground crime scene. Yosano didn't think so.

It'd been two weeks since you started the case, two weeks since you last seen the boy with that peculiar smile.

You often caught yourself thinking back to him. It was an interest that you had with him, an almost childish curiosity with him that lingered at the back of your mind.

Until you saw him again.

You began to give up on the hope that promised he would be back.

Loose rock cracked underneath your feet and you looked out at the harbor, eyes tearing up from salty air being blown harshly in your face. You couldn't help but look anywhere but the crowd of people that laughed and passed by on the boardwalk because you knew if you did, you'd start looking for that brown-haired boy. You'd see that boy laughing with his friends and wonder if its him, or a glimpse of honey eyes would draw your attention away again.

It's better to believe he was a dream that blew into the wind.

You finally started walking, gaze turned downwards. You kicked a rock along, catching up with it with a few paces and kicking it again.

Until you kicked the rock a little too hard, and it hit someone and the person let out a sharp noise of surprise. You blinked and looked up, half-stammering an apology when you saw wavy brown hair, a long black coat and an eye covered by bandages and an eye like gold in the light of the sun.

There he was.

He stared at you, face blank but something flickered in that one visible eye, the visage of a calm, collected young man broken from the flash of emotion in those eyes.

Something bubbled in your throat, a cry of sort like you were about to call his name but you had forgotten it and so the question halted, lingering in and swallowed back.

You opted to walk over to his and grab him by the arm. He blinked, looked at you, and smiled. Not the smile before, this smile felt like one a person would give before chuckling at a joke.

"Ah, you remember me?" He didn't move and you let your arm drop to your side, reprimanding yourself for such directness.

"I wouldn't forget someone who threw themself off a bridge in front of me." You scoffed, taking a step back and glancing to the side.

"Well, to be fair I wasn't expecting some girl to ruin my attempt." He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. You blinked and something stirred inside, balling your fists together you stared at him. "Some girl?" You saved him and he just called you "some girl who ruined his attempt?"

"Not even a thank you?" You snapped back, "I save your life!"

"Well, clearly I wanted to be saved." He grins at your expression and shrugged. "What? You expected me to fall at your feet and devote my life to you? I don't even want it, so it wouldn't mean much." You blinked. God he was getting on your nerves.

"Well, of-of course not!! What kind of person do you take me for?!" He looked you up and down, a stupid grin plastered on his face.

"Darling, are you sure you don't have some sort of savior complex?"

That was the last straw for you. You snapped back at him, heart twisting and heat curling in your chest. " 'course not! Why would you think that-actually, nevermind don't answer that for the love of god..." And he laughed.

He was laughing, clutching his stomach like you told him the funniest joke ever. You could see literal tears forming on his long, dark lashes that could easily make any girl jealous.

Are you serious?!

He looked up at you, breathing heavily as he caught his breath from his laughing. "Ah, wha'? Aw, are you mad?" He teased, cocking his head to the side like some sort of puppy.

"No!!"

"Then why do you look so mad." He chuckled and reached out a hand, tapping your cheek with a finger. "You're all red, by the way. Do I really have that much of an effect on you?" You whacked away his hand, scowling.

"No, you don't so don't get ahead of yourself!" He leaned back and raised his hands up defensively.

"Alright, alright darling. Whatever keeps the pretty girl happy." He straightened up and sighed, seemingly about to turn away until he heard you say your name.

"There, I told you mine, what's your name? Or do you just want me to call you "guy i saved from jumping off a fucking bridge"?" You chuckled, although it came out all wrong. He blinked slowly, and you wondered if he'd tell you.

"...Tsushima Shuuji." He shifted to face you again and you sighed out a relieved breath. He looked at you, seemingly in thought when he blurted out randomly

"Do you know how to skip rocks?" You stared at him. Just what is with this guy...?

"Uh...nooo?" You tilted your head and blinked a few times, cursing yourself for trying to find this guy. Shuuji grinned and grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him. You yelped and stumbled into him. He held you by your shoulders, a coltish grin filled with childlike awe plastered on his face.

"Do you wanna learn how to?"

"Why?" He shrugged.

"Why not?" He tugged you along with him, weaving the two of you through the stream of people taking a dusk walk by the port. Whenever you cried out to him, asking him where the hell he was taking you, he'd just look at you with that stupidly playful grin of his and pull you along.

He brought you to a rocky area that sloped into the sea. Careful to not break anything, you stepped on the large ones as you followed him. Shuuji began to take off his own shoes and he shrugged off his coat. you hesitated before following in suit. Once your shoes and socks had been peeled off and hastily discarded onto a rock where the sea couldn't lap water into he pulled you ankle-deep into the water with him.

"The trick is to find a rock that's flat and smooth." He bent down a bit and reached into the water, swirling his hand a bit before pulling out a a rock that matched the description he gave. Angling himself down parallel to the water he flicked his wrist a few time before letting the rock slip through his fingers.

You held back a laugh as the rock immediately sunk.

He scoffed, eyes wide as he stared at the area where the rock sank.

"What?! But that's how he did it! Ah, damn you chuuya.." He muttered the last part and you let out a little giggle.

"Ah, bad teacher?"

"Yup, he can't teach anyone how to do anything and he's short. Really lost the genetic lottery if you ask me." He muttered and you couldn't help doubling over in laughter. He looked like a little kid, angry and pouting because he couldn't skip rocks like his dad.

"Why are you laughing?"

"You were laughing at me earlier, so I can as well!" You snorted and a sort of small smile curled at his lips as he watched you.

"...I guess you're right about that."

The two of you spent another hour trying-and failing-to skip rocks, laughing at the other when they failed only to be unsuccessful themselves.

When it started to get dark, Shuuji offered to walk you home.

"Huh? won't your parents get worried if you don't get home fast?" You tilted your head and he shrugged.

"Won't yours get mad as well?"

"I live alone." He was silent for a moment.

"C'mon, can I walk you just like, half way there? A quarter?" You chuckled, tying your shoes.

"Fine, halfway." You got up and started walking. Shuuji followed you, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Why did you wanna walk me? getting attached to me already?" You teased, a small smile on your lips.

"Ah, darling who do you take me as? A man with no concern for a poor girl walking home so late?"

"It's only seven-"

"My dear belladonna that's very late" He sighed dramatically, causing you to smile.

"Your such a drama queen, Tsushima." It took him a moment to answer.

"Tsushima? Ah, no call me Shuuji." The two of you stopped at a stop walk. "No need for formalities." You grinned.

"Alright then, Shuuji. This is around half way to my house, so you've completed the deal." He looked at you.

"Alright then. Maybe we'll see each other again." He flicked his hand in a small wave before spinning around on his heels.

And just like that, as the stop walk's light turned green, that brown-haired boy was gone again.

Tagging: @nomnomventi @walking-simp @ruanais @ninin8nin @libbyannloves @s1eepybunny

[nicklloydnow]

“See the child. He is pale and thin, he wears a thin and ragged linen shirt. He stokes the scullery fire. Outside lie dark turned fields with rags of snow and darker woods beyond that harbor yet a few last wolves. His folk are known for hewers of wood and drawers of water but in truth his father has been a schoolmaster. He lies in drink, he quotes from poets whose names are now lost. The boy crouches by the fire and watches him.

Night of your birth. Thirty-three. The Leonids they were called. God how the stars did fall. I looked for blackness, holes in the heavens. The Dipper stove.

The mother dead these fourteen years did incubate in her own bosom the creature who would carry her off. The father never speaks her name, the child does not know it. He has a sister in this world that he will not see again. He watches, pale and unwashed. He can neither read nor write and in him broods already a taste for mindless violence. All history present in that visage, the child the father of the man.

At fourteen he runs away. He will not see again the freezing kitchenhouse in the predawn dark. The firewood, the washpots. He wanders west as far as Memphis, a solitary migrant upon that flat and pastoral landscape. Blacks in the fields, lank and stooped, their fingers spiderlike among the bolls of cotton. A shadowed agony in the garden. Against the sun's declining figures moving in the slower dusk across a paper skyline. A lone dark husbandman pursuing mule and harow down the rainblown bottomland toward night.

A year later he is in Saint Louis. He is taken on for New Orleans aboard a flatboat. Forty-two days on the river. At night the steamboats hoot and trudge past through the black waters all alight like cities adrift. They break up the float and sell the lumber and he walks in the streets and hears tongues he has not heard before. He lives in a room above a courtyard behind a tavern and he comes down at night like some fairybook beast to fight with the sailors. He is not big but he has big wrists, big hands. His shoulders are set close. The child's face is curiously untouched behind the scars, the eyes oddly innocent. They fight with fists, with feet, with bottles or knives. All races, all breeds. Men whose speech sounds like the grunting of apes. Men from lands so far and queer that standing over them where they lie bleeding in the mud he feels mankind itself vindicated.”

[danddymaro]

Run | Byakuya Kuchiki x Reader

This has slight Byakuya x reader as well as a hint of the sternritter showing a slight interest in her too.

- Let’s pretend

During the fight against  Äs Nödt

Word count: 3050

Run 

Clammy red ornamented the ground, the resistance it has as you take a trembling step back hard to overlook. 

Regret immediately fills you as you soon come in full contact with a body that nearly cocoons you still, blocking off your escape.

Scarlet clings to the bottom of your sandals, acting as red ropes that bind you to the spot as you feebly watch what you dreadfully accept are the final breaths of your captain. 

And you do so at the hands of the very man you now utterly despise. 

His large, pale hands tenderly pet the sides of your arms before they each cease their travel, finding comfort on the spot that's right between your shoulder and neck. 

You can feel the pointed black ends curl into you, caging you furthermore as he leans down to you.

A falling river of sable softly tickles your cheek before it falls past your shoulder, and there's a part of you that imagines it aiming for your neck, coiling like a serpent that takes what's left of your life. However, it's seemingly harmless, soon flowing down to touch the most pronounced bit of your exposed collarbone with a tease that steals a breath from you.

The feather-soft strands that fall to you pet you, and even though it's an unwanted caress you feel as though it's a sense of betrayal. 

After all, It's damning to be so close to your enemy and do nothing.

What isn’t covered by your uniform can feel him and the sickening twist that comes from the delicate contact blends the insides of your stomach until the contents threaten to rise up. Heavy heat collects between the travel of your throat and stomach, and you try not to think about how revolting it is to have his scent surround you, owning you. 

It's the nauseating stench of too clean, reminding you of a once prolonged stay at the 4's barracks. It reminds you of powdered latex too, and as it overwhelms you,  you try to escape the invisible snare that has you at his mercy.

But all you can do is look toward your captain, helpless.

He sees you in a way no one ever has, and while pride has been a staple in your demeanor, in your very duties... it's lacking at the moment.

A low chuckle that comes from behind you forces a tiny shiver from you, and as you swallow down thickly you release a breath that quivers.

You want to fight back, yet, you've yet to draw your blade. 

Instead, the gleaming sharpness resides in its decorated sheath at your side as you feel defeated, beaten without a breath that harbors evidence of resistance.

A low, warm breath scarcely graces your right cheek as it escapes his black mask while he speaks, starting with a single sound that’s of consideration. 

“Ah...” he says. " Yes, you are terrified," he observes, and somewhere in there, you can hear his excitement gently dribbling from his wicked tongue. 

-And perhaps that's why the monster that teases you treads so close, so intimately.

It's mere entertainment to him.

"But moreso...grieving," he murmurs as he realizes that the man before you is someone precious to you.

It’s not the fear of your death that has you stunned, but instead, his. 

"He's dying," he tells you in his low, dragged-out voice that only makes the dreadful moment feel eternal, the very deep hum of his words just more mockery that pulls you into despair. 

Your moves feel terribly slow as your sluggish body proceeds to act, and as the Dark haired being that mercilessly taunts you watches, he wonders if you realize how much your movements hold no peril.

He stirs not one bit, and no movement is made to stop you. 

He merely stands in wait, truly curious as to how you will proceed.

Your fellow officers are slain, scattered bits of their remains only bloody trails that paint the ground of demise.

Your lieutenant is defeated as well, but faring better than the rest of your squadron as he lays motionless while low, struggled breaths emit from his bloodied mouth. 

He hangs over the crumbled ground and the Sternritter knows it's only minutes in counting before he draws his final one.

 And the captain he had witnessed you gaze at awe with was painted red, slowly drained of his life as he remained where he'd last left him, defeated by his own power.

-There was no saving him by that point.

' What will you do? ' he idly wonders.

It feels like a century before your clammy palm comes in contact with your zanpakuto, but as it finally reaches it, you bite your inner cheek with no true idea as to how to proceed. 

Feebly, you continue to look over to your Captain, your eyes gleaming with sorrow, speaking unsaid words too as your voice has no volume.

What has always felt like second nature leaves you, and you're bare to the world, defenseless like a beast without teeth, left to fend without claws.

The hand that firmly grasps your sword trembles as your shoulders begin to slack, and you swallow down thickly, 

"I..." your voice catches in your throat, and as the Quincy hears it he feels rather piqued by curiosity to know just how soft you sound when conquered. 

It's only a breath, but his ears perk, and he even stills his own.

Meanwhile, you're not sure what you want to say, what matters most. 

Would it be an apology? Should it be a sorrowful apology for failing before even trying?

-For being such a coward when he'd done the contrary.

Would another attempt at a breath be enough to tell him that you'd been happy before? 

-That just before the attack, before the declaration of war when it'd been just another day... you'd been happy?

Your red-haired lieutenant grins too hard, and he narrows his eyes at you with so much mischievous playfulness, you're immediately flustered. 

"Why didn't you tell me," he says lowly while he finds a way to jab his elbow at your ribs. "Huh?" he presses on while coming close as though he's being inconspicuous despite how loud his harsh whispers are.

You barely have time to argue before he proceeds, 

" Look at you putting the moves on him," he adds with actual awe that worsens your response.

You can feel yourself overheat, slowly melting like a well-lit candle, and as you try to say something a small squeak escapes, making things even worse. 

All you'd done was Bring the man some tea and a sample of some baked goods you thought would pair nicely. You had free time and thought of it as a good idea before.

"It's not like that!" you say, your voice failing at first, and when you stutter it's worse for your case, making Renji laugh. 

The way he throws his head back as he releases the sound has you wanting to hide, but not much more than when your superior finds you two.

Your moment is interrupted as your captain arrives, his eyes immediately on his desk where your offerings had been delicately placed. 

There's a touch of surprise there, but it slowly softens before his dark eyes then skim over to you two.

"Evening captain!" Abarai quickly finds his composure, the touch of respect and cordiality he addresses your captain with, one you hope to one day find balance with. 

 A little hum and nod are offered to him before you seem to be specifically targeted by his gaze, and your hands begin to sweat beneath the long sleeves of your attire.

Your greeting is small and terribly bashful as you fight through the intensity of his glare, and what is definitely a stifled chuckle from the man beside you.

"Wouldn't you know..." Renji starts as he places a hand on your shoulder, tightly gripping it, " I actually find someone to fill in," he adds while gesturing to you as you look at him with terribly wide eyes, not knowing what he's referring to.

You're terribly lost, but you're too afraid to ask.

"Oh?" Byakuya raises a perfectly trimmed brow as he looks at you. 

"She said she'd loved to be here with you all day," Abarai claims, and you can hear your heart pounding away as your breath fastens.

is he really  throwing you under the bus like that?

"She even made snacks," he points out merrily before he lets out a soft sigh.

"I don't know why you'd want to be stuck here all day," he then tells you, and there's a discreet touch of tease in there you catch and has you feeling nervous.

"But who am I to argue," he says before he halfheartedly shrugs, leaving with just that before letting you fill in on the extra workload that had been left to him.

It's only until your alone, stuck before a towering stack of paperwork that you realize how he'd played you.

'That asshole,' you think to yourself, your jaw tightened as you think about how Renji had found a way to stack his paperwork onto you while he was probably getting drunk with that pretentious prick Yumichika and that big, shiny-headed jerk Ikkaku.

It was supposed to be his shift! His work! His duties!

'i'll get him back,' you swear as you're about to leave, but you are stopped by the sound of your name.

You're rooted by the exit, your hand on the door as you slowly peek back, 

"Yes?" you say back your voice soft as silk. Anything he says is listened to dutifully, and if you knew how much your face glowed at his attention, you'd understand how easy it is to discover your closely harbored secret.

- The one you’re so afraid to let anyone know.

Byakuya remains seated on his chair, and he's overlooking the last bits of the reports in hand as he speaks, his entire demeanor untroubled as always, 

"Thank you for your help," he tells you, the straightforward appreciation greeted with graciousness of your own. 

Your response comes naturally.

 You smile at him, subtly, and touched with a faint show of fluster that he does find endearing, even if he doesn't comment on it. 

Momentarily, he eyes it as he breaks his concentration on his work.

Somehow you manage to respond, and it earns you a faint sound that hints at content.

" Oh," he then sounds, as though he remembers something, 

 "The calligraphy club is having a meeting this Thursday," he informs you, and you look at him with surprise. 

You recall how exclusive it is, how the only other remembers are respected captains, and you nod in acknowledgment before it strikes you that maybe he’s inviting you. 

‘Is he inviting me?’ you wonder dumbly before he says more.

"I hope it interests you, " he then proceeds, and after a moment of disbelief, you fiercely nod.

And you smile in a way that has him certain you'll attend. 

You practically glow.

' I was so hopeful,' you think idly, and your face softened into a melancholic smile directed at him.

'So...happy,' you add. 

'That I'd like to think you were too....' you proceed to wistfully muse.

Rukia has trouble not looking your way, her dark eyes briefly skimming over you to admire how lovely you look as you walk alongside her brother who seems rather lighthearted as of late.

She's noticed, even if it's been a rather modest change, but he has a certain glow to him that's warm. And the occasional smile he walks with is also a sight she can’t overlook.

" You know I'd been hiding from her for hours," Renji said while looking at you, finding everything but a seething woman.

At first, he was convinced were going to get back at him and that it was all an act to make him drop his defenses, but the more that time progressed, the more he was changing his mind about it.

 " I thought she'd be angry when she saw me, but it's like she's been floating on air, " he notes, having observed how happy you seemed.

 Much more the lack of animosity towards him when he did bump into you, which would have eventually happened given how close you and captain Kuchiki had been as of late. 

“They've both been...” he takes a short pause before his eyes round, quickly looking at Rukia who only offers him a soft smile.

'Run...' Byakuya silently pleas, detesting how it's his immediate thought.

It’s a bitter sting to him, and an insult to you, but it’s the only thing his heart tells him is right.

He looks at you with dread, with unfortunate defeat as he fails to reach you, helplessly watching the enemy so near you. 

It’s sickening to him, and he can’t do anything about it.

His eyes then skim down to his broken blade that serves no purpose but to lay there silently.

.

.

.

.

"I've yet to pierce you," the slender male that observes you comments as he cranes his head to the side, his wide-eyed stare more apparent than yours, yet holding none of your tremor and dread.

 His eyes which are the emptiest black lack an empathetic shine, harnessing the same empty existence as the center of black holes, holding nothing but mystery within them that you don't wish to look back to.

'- Run away,' Kuchiki silently begs again. 

It's like he's crying out to you, and the speed at which your face hides from his sight is near blinding. 

You shut your eyes tight, and as your chest heaves, there's a sound that leaves you that reaches long distances before you finally react. 

The echo of your misery is one that peaks with determination as you finally find your courage.

The hand that reaches for your blade quits shaking, and while your first strike fails as your opponent dodges, you advance with another swing.

The cold sweat that had decorated your forehead finally rushes off you as you fight, the narrow misses your blade preforms encouraging you enough until one good strike gets him.

-An opening.

You move with haste delivering a second strike, and whilst you feel the connection, he seems unscathed, a truth that has you peeved. Blow after blow he’s unaffected.

Instead, he simply looks to you with just the softest touch of amusement in his dead eyes as he waits for you to realize your attempts are futile, that he has no weak spot.

The precise jut of your blade’s point that touches his neck’s base is blocked off, angering you.

 ‘Of course,’ reality hits you. ‘We don’t know anything about them,’ you inwardly curse, not knowing how to proceed.

 ‘And what little we’ve just found out doesn’t help me at all!’ you add as a cursed thorn flies past you.

You stare with a hard glare at the last that threatens to pierce you, and you swallow down bitter spit.

  He’s practically toying with you, something you can’t seem to understand until he moves, his true speed a terror to you as he approaches you, nearing dangerously close. 

The sharp points of his mask seem even more threatening as they've approached you, soon digging into your flesh as he even leans closer to your terribly stilled form, yet again at an intimate distance.

“Tell me,” he starts, “ Do you fear me?” he dares to ask, and he stares at you the entire time, unable to look away, hardly able to waste a moment with a blink that obscures the sight of you.

one of his hands take hold of your face’s lower half, tightly gripping for only half a second before he yanks the hand away, black nails wickedly raking over your skin, leaving angry marks over you. 

His touch grazes you before he intentionally pulls back, yet another showboat of his that has you cold shivering.

‘I can’t beat him,’ you think solemnly, knowing so, aware any strike of yours would be immediately deflected by his strange shield. 

“I have to...” you breathe, struggling through the ache in your chest as you know what you have to do. You’re certain, yet it doesn't take away from what you feel.  

He can see it in your eyes, the desperation, the pretty shine your gaze holds and it fully captivates him.

‘I don’t want to go...’ you lament wishing you had the strength to stand your ground.

The gentle flicker that is your captain is hardly there for you to feel, and it’s like you can feel him slowly fading away, forcing you to focus on another presence instead.  

‘But he’s still there,’ you think with relief, and you accept the only other choice you have as your empty hand aims to your neck where the choker that snugly decorates it is hastily torn off.

‘We lost the battle...but not the war,’ you think.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and while you look toward the man before you, you’re not speaking to him.

With an underhanded swing you send the choker towards the sternritter and as it explodes you make an escape.

 It’s a diversion with a small window for you as smoke spreads after the blast. 

As you hold your blade in one hand, the other collects the thick tears that obscure your sight as you speed through the destruction that has destroyed everything you knew.

The very ground you once walked on is crumbed and painted red, a scene that makes your heart wrench, but you continue to move forward.

Meanwhile, the dark haired menace that stays behind glances at you idly, his eyes following your figure as it draws further from him, as you head to the same direction he’d seen your lieutenant land.

“Are you still there captain?” he asks, his eyes possessed by you as you flee.

A spiteful, stuttered breath leaves Byakuya , yet it causes the Quincy no torment.

Instead, he seems pleased as he grins at the defeated male,“ You must be relieved,” he proceeds.

“ - To have her far from me,” he then muses. 

“You seem to have some luck,  you won’t have to watch her die,” he adds.

[headfullofpresley]

Elvis Presley Tag Game

Hi babies! I know there's already a few of these floating around, but I decided to make one as well because I love doing and reading these (so definitely tag me in yours~). Also, ignore me naming 300 songs for each question, I couldn't pick one 💀.

Questions are under the cut. 💗

When was the first time you heard of Elvis?

He's always been in my life because his music has always been played in my family (especially during Christmas lol), so I guess I kinda grew up with him.

What's your favorite era?

I love him in all era's tbh, but the 60s have a special place in my heart.

Favorite song(s) from the '50s?

Harbor Lights, How Do You Think I Feel, Anyplace Is Paradise, Don't Be Cruel, Wear My Ring Around Your Neck, Ain't That Loving You Baby, I Was The One, One-Sided Love Affair.

Favorite song(s) from the '60s?

Dirty, Dirty Feeling, Make Me Know It, Such A Night, Surrender, Reconsider Baby, Starting Today, (Such An) Easy Question, Witchcraft, Little Sister, Kiss Me Quick, True Love Travels On a Gravel Road, Suspicious Minds, Summer Kisses, Winter Tears.

Favorite song(s) from the '70s?

The Wonder of You, Patch It Up, We Can Make the Morning, Always on My Mind, If You Talk in Your Sleep, Moody Blue, Make The World Go Away, Snowbird, Never Been to Spain, I'll Never Fall in Love Again, Are You Sincere, This is Our Dance, Walk A Mile in My Shoes. I CAN'T JUST PICK ONE LMAO

All time favorite song(s) that you simply cannot skip?

How Do You Think I Feel, Starting Today, Moody Blue, I'll Never Fall in Love Again and Make The World Go Away.

Least favorite song?

Tutti Frutti, Ready Teddy and Milkcow Blues Boogie. don't hate me 👀

Favorite gospel song(s)?

Swing Down Sweet Chariot, How Great Thou Art, Crying in The Chapel, Bosom of Abraham and Lead Me, Guide Me.

Favorite country song(s)?

Snowbird, Whole Lot-ta Shakin' Goin' On, Funny How Time Slips Away, The Fool, Flaming Star, U.S. Male.

Favorite non-English song?

We'll Be Together (most of it is english but it still counts bc i love this song ☻), Wooden Heart and Santa Lucia.

A song(s) that makes you feel nostalgic?

Jailhouse Rock, Can't Help Falling in Love, Heartbreak Hotel, A Little Less Conversation, Are You Lonesome Tonight and Return to Sender - they remind me of my childhood sm.

A song(s) that makes you cry?

There's Always Me, I Need Somebody to Lean On and Unchained Melody.

A song(s) that makes you wanna dance?

Polk Salad Annie, The Love Machine, Vino, Dinero Y Amor, Bossa Nova Baby, Rock-A-Hula Baby, Return to Sender, Slicin' Sand, Happy Ending, Blue River, A Little Less Conversation.

Favorite song Elvis has covered?

SWEEEEET CAROLINE! 💃🏼

What's a modern song you wish you could hear Elvis cover?

Paper Doll by John Mayer - i want it, i need it! *slams table*. also, Roller Coaster by Danny Vera.

Do you prefer vinyl or CD?

I love both and I love the nostalgic feel of a vinyl, but when it comes to sound, I prefer CDs.

Favorite album?

From Elvis in Memphis, Love Letters from Elvis, From Elvis Presley Boulevard, Memphis, Tennessee and Moody Blue.

Favorite movie soundtrack?

Blue Hawaii, King Creole, It Happened At The World's Fair and Fun in Acapulco.

Favorite live performance?

The Ed Sullivan performances, my god. But I'm also obsessed with the show from August 11, 1970 for That's The Way It Is.

A live performance you wish you were present at?

My ass would be front row at every show, idc.

Favorite jumpsuit(s)?

Adonis, Black Conquistador (IM OBSESSED I TELL YOU; OBSESSED!), Conchos, Royal Blue Fireworks, American Eagle, Pharao and Silver Phoenix. His two piece fits were also very *chef's kiss*.

LIKE HELLO????? TALENTED, BRILLIANT, INCREDIBLE, AMAZING, SHOW STOPPING, SPECTACULAR, NEVER THE SAME, TOTALLY UNIQUE, COMPLETELY NOT EVER BEEN DONE BEFORE!!!!

Favorite movie(s)?

Blue Hawaii, Fun in Acapulco, Flaming Star and It Happened at The World's Fair. Also Viva Las Vegas and King Creole and Loving You and I'm going to shut up now.

Least favorite movie(s)?

Harum Scarum, Stay Away Joe, Kissin' Cousins and The Trouble with Girls.

Favorite co-star?

Ann-Margret and Shelley Fabares.

Favorite documentary?

Elvis by the Presleys, That's The Way It Is, Elvis on Tour and Elvis: Return to Tupelo.

Favorite interview?

This one right here. I can listen to this man talk for hours and fell asleep to this many many times lol.

Favorite car?

The Purple Cadillac Eldorado is sexy af. And also the Stutz Blackhawk... loooord.. 🥵

Do you collect merch? If so, what's the one thing you hold most dear to your heart?

I spend too much money on this man (woops), but I'm obsessed with Elvis and the Birth of Rock and Roll which contains Alfred Wertheimer's amazing work. Andddd a collector's item of the Blue Hawaii soundtrack. 💙

Do you think you'll be a fan of Elvis for the rest of your life?

Yes yes yes. He's such a big and important part of my life, I can't imagine him not being in it anymore.

tagging some of my lovely mutuals: @woundmetender @eliseinmemphis @foreverdolly @septembersghost @mrpresley @marriedtopresley @elvispresleywife @ab4eva @elvisabutler @infatuatedharleys @steph-speaks @mooodyblue - if i missed anyone, sorry bbies!

[starset21]

Standard disclaimer: I only own my original characters, I've done some research but there will likely be military inaccuracies, and I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may be found is on tumblr and Wattpad under @.itswildflower Word Count: 1,579 A/N: I'm releasing the start of it a little bit early :)

Chapter 1:

Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, lived a beautiful little girl… and her widowed father.

It's beautiful. Okay. It wasn't that long ago. And it wasn't really a faraway kingdom. It was Bohls Hollow. A valley just outside of Austin, right on the Colorado River. To Bea, growing up, the Hollow was her kingdom. She was her dad's best friend. And he was hers. Being raised by a man may have put her behind in the makeup and fashion departments, but she never felt like she missed out on anything. She was the luckiest girl in the world. Her dad owned the coolest diner. It was aviation-themed and she loved hanging out there. At Rick’s, everyone felt like family. “Happy birthday! Make a wish, princess.” What did she need a wish for? She had amazing friends and the coolest dad. But she discovered her dad thought she needed one more thing: Loretta. Along with her new stepmother came new siblings. Her new little brother Bailey and her twin daughters, Paislee and Keighlee, who happened to be the same age as her. Her out-of-step-sisters. But as long as her dad was happy, so was she. They were going to be one big, happy family.

Unfortunately, this was no fairy tale. 

“He took her hand, and he kissed it. Then he scooped her up onto his horse. And the beautiful princess and the handsome prince rode off to his castle… where they lived happily ever after,'' her father finished. “Do fairy tales come true, Dad?” she asked. “Well, no, Birdy. But dreams come true,” he tells her. “Do you have a dream?” she asked him quietly. “Yeah. My dream is that you'll grow up happy, safe, and healthy, and maybe someday you'll build your own castle. But, so, you know, fairy tales aren't just about finding handsome princes. They're about fulfilling your dreams and about standing up for what you believe in. As I always say, the one who falls and gets back up,” he starts. “Is stronger than the one who never tried,” she finished for him. “Right. Just remember, if you look carefully, this book contains important things that you may need to know later in life.” Her kingdom crumbled later that night when he unexpectedly passed away from a heart attack. She lost her best friend that night. From then on, the only fairy tales in her life… were the ones she read about in books.

Her father’s funeral was done by the military. She stood in her little black dress at the end of the first row and she was handed his flag, something her father’s old Rio insisted on, much to the dismay of Loretta. One by one the other Naval Aviators who flew with her father before he retired stopped and kneeled down to hug her tight and wished her well before they paid their respects and left. After everything was said and done the lawyers sat us all down to talk. Since her father didn't leave a will, her stepmother got everything. The house, the diner, and to her dismay, her. And that brings them to now.

October 30th, 2004.

“Beatrice! It's breakfast time. So bring me my breakfast,” Loretta yelled over the intercom. “Be right there!” Bea groaned as she slipped her shoes on and headed downstairs. Bea ruffled Bailey’s hair as she walked by lovingly and (in a very 10-year-old manner) he simply grumbled at her in response before turning back to his cereal. She grabbed Loretta’s breakfast and headed out the back steps to the deck where she was lounging by the pool.  “Careful, ladies. Look for the eyes. One, two, three, bicycle. And feint. Magpie, magpie, magpie. Fiap and fiap and fiap. Mary Lou Retton! Palm tree and palm tree. Lady Liberty. Lady Liberty. Around the harbor. Around the harbor. Circle Line tour. And hurricane,” the twin’s synchronized swimming coach instructs. “Can you believe how extraordinarily gifted my girls are?” Loretta asks. “Absolutely unbelievable. Really,” the coach replied. “Beatrice!” she yells. “I'm coming,” she yelled back with a roll of her eyes. “Is this the Norwegian salmon I asked for? I need my omega-s,” Loretta asked as she placed the platter on the table beside her. “Only the best,” she told her as Loretta took a bite. “I can tell. You know, it costs a fortune to fly that stuff in from Norwegia.” Bea looked up to the sky silently asking the Lord to give her the strength to deal with this woman. “What are you doing Just standing there? Get to work,” Loretta huffs. “I can't go to work now. I've got a big test I have to study for,” she told her. “Listen, Beatrice. People go to school to get smarter so that they can get a Job. You already have a Job. So it's like skipping a step.”

The clatters of silverware on plates, the sound of food frying, and people talking filled the prissy pink diner. “Ben, Enough with the salmon. You already made a salmon omelet, salmon soup, and salmon pudding. Come on,” Donna said, skating her head. “Help me. Loretta wants to eat me,” Ben lifted the dead fish to animate it. “That's nasty,” Donna said simply. “Bite me, Donna. Bite me.” Ben set the dead fish down. “That's nasty,” Donna replied again. “Eleanor, your order's up,” she called out. “Coming. I got it!” Donna smiled, walking down to see one of her regulars. “Chuck, how are you doing?” she asks. “Super,” the man replied. “That's good. So cheese omelet, Extra bacon, crisp… blueberry muffin, and a Coke?” Donna asks. “Make it a Diet Coke. I'm trying to watch my weight,” Chuck tells her. “It ain't going nowhere,” Donna says before turning to see Beatrice grabbing empty plates. “Bea, why are you still here?” she demands. “I'm almost done,” Bea told her. “You'll be late for school,” Donna tells her placing a hand on her hip. “I'll get there. Loretta goes ballistic if I don't finish,” she tells the older woman. “I don't care. What I care about is your education. She's got you getting up at the crack of dawn. Your dad would want you at school,” Donna tells her, pulling her up. “But-” Bea tried. “No more ''buts.'' You Just leave Loretta and her big butt to me,” Donna says simply. “Thanks, Donna,” she smiled appreciatively. “Get,” she orders, nodding her head to the door. 

“Hey, looking good, Mr. Thomas,” Bea called out as she pulled up to her best friend's house, seeing his father washing his car. “A man's best friend is his Mercedes, Beatrice,” he tells her. “I'll remember that.” A door shut and out walked Cory. “Dad. Now, do you see what I have to go to school in? No offense, Bea. Honestly, don't you feel sorry for me?” he asks. “No, I feel sorry about the three cars we got you that you totaled,” Mr. Thomas replied and Bea snorted as her best friend gaped at his father. “Cory, get in the car.” He rolls his eyes before getting in her light blue 1965 Mustang convertible. It needs some cosmetic work but it runs well and it was her dad's. Loretta would have sold it if she hadn’t begged her for weeks with offers to pick up extra shifts at the diner to let her have it. 

“Primo parking spot dead ahead,” Cory pointed out and she nodded, heading for it, looking in the other direction for any incoming cars. “Bea, watch out! Watch out!” he yells and Bea slams on the break as a car cuts in front of her. “You snooze, you lose!” The girls in the other car yell as they park and get out. “Well, if it isn't Michelle Larson and her ladies-in-waiting, Michelle wants me so bad,” Cory sighs. “You've never even talked to her before,” Bea pointed out with a laugh. “Oh, I've talked to her. Okay. In my mind. And let me tell you, in my mind, she wants me so bad,” he says as they look for another spot. “Cory, you could do so much better than Michelle Larson. Even in your mind,” she told him. “There's another spot,” he points out. “I got it.” As she went to pull into the next open spot a silver lifted truck pulled up and took it. “Come on!” she yelled and smacked the steering wheel in frustration as the car stalled. Two of the popular guys get out and start laughing as she cranks the car, trying to get it to start up again. “Jake!” Michelle yells as the driver gets out. “I swear people like Michelle and Jake… are genetically programmed to find each other. How can so much ego be in one relationship?” she asked as the two groups of popular kids moved to stand in the middle of the street. “Imagine what they say about you,” Cory scoffs. “They don't even know I exist,” Bea tells him. “Ewww Stalkerazzi at 3 o'clock. The white zone is for cool people only. No geeks,” Michelle says, using her cheer horn. “Hey, diner girl, can I get a breakfast burrito to go? Thank you,” Jordan, one of the guys who came with Jake calls out. “And you thought they didn't know you existed,” Cory stated like it was a fact. Bea rolled her eyes as they finally moved out of the way so she could continue into the parking lot.

[soir-rouges-esprit]

xx11.f: The River, You knew I'd need it ... "Correct. I was caught with my Jaw on the ground when the news spread of your survival. Astonished is an understatement … which is why I knew you'd need The Community Hammer. For even though you've survived the depths, I realized you wouldn't be repaired enough by the time you got here to face The Nightmares that hunt not in the sea, but the streets. I needed to help you the best I could … by helping you … help yourself." You want me … you need me to create community again … to bear the brunt of the extra weight that'd most certainly crush me in my current state. "Yeah. You got it!" Even with the hammer. Where would we find more drifters? Regardless of our regained bridge-building capabilities … it wouldn't change the fact that we've never been able to call in the audience … only keep them here whilst standing on the stage. "True … In all honesty … I don't believe we are made to advertise our existence. It's just not in our character to openly do that. So … although it may be hard. We might just have to wait some more … bearing the suffrage just a little longer and allow the natural process of drifters drifting to fall on our harbor. Then … this time, we can accommodate them in ways long lost and most needed. Be not mistaken Red, we will do no reconstruction … for there really was no construction to begin with … and even the little that was there … was too faulty and fragile to stand on its own. Therefore no … we are not rebuilding. We are building a new." Where we lack the most in depth, value and Intrigue … we shall fill with intricately gilded memories and experience etched in baroque. "Sad to say The City and ourselves have let go of quality assurance" From now on, nothing but quality shall be accepted. We cannot afford to mishandle The Cazbium and its future new permanent residents. "Ever … again." I clasped the handle of the hammer with determination and force … then so be it … it is time in the revival of Red for us to construct a new previously unthinkable road. One of interconnection and communication … gone are the days of solitary. Gone are the days of asocial behavior or building walls to stop any and all communication between neighboring loved ones … "Gone are the days and belief of full Red Revival … for we will strive to bring back and repair … Us … but never … ever again … shall we be able to continue in the manner that is isolation. But … this is not to be rushed nor a complete arrangement where all parties are to be given similar authority and or access … remember, take it slow and still continue with caution, and do not stray away from keeping bridges forever privately traveled on. Sometimes that's just the best outcome … there are few black and whites in life … and ultimate connectivity between relationships being good for everyone is certainly not one" I understand, Hope, do not worry … I now have all I've ever needed this whole time, even before The Great Divide. "Well then … don't stop here then." What do you mean? He smiled and put his hand on my shoulder … then moved to my right side and pointed forward and slightly up … towards a hill just blocking the amber sunlight. "The Journey, has just begun … we knew we wouldn't make it here without burning a bridge … even though we didn't want to … so … burn the bridge that is the prologue and finally allow the real story to begin. Face it … can't you hear it? Can't you hear its name calling? Can you? … Well … soon … It'll be incapable of hiding any longer." I smiled and thanked Hope for his mighty showing, and helping guidance. I walked toward and up The Hill and whispered to myself as I walked in stride. No more hiding … no more running … no more lies … for now ... we visit ... The City ... that is oh so promptly named ... *My voice trailed off*

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[fireintheflames]

An IRL Update!

Just a general update on things, and some fun life hacky adjacent type things!

It's been a busy summer for sure, been trying to find something fun to do every weekend so I can hibernate guilt free in the winter. Some highlights:

Concerts! Including Styx in the rain, which was very fun! Learned that earplugs at concerts are 100% a must for anything inside, if only for the crowd noise. We used cheap Harbor Freight ones, like $5 for 100, worked pretty good!

Camping! which was delayed due to a combo thunderstorm/flood. We made hobo pies! Recipe: 1 cast iron pie iron (~$20) 2 slices of Hillbilly (TM) Bread, or similar soft wheat/white bread (think wonder bread texture) Fillings (i highly recommend PBJ for sweet, or cheese and pepperoni for savory, melty is ideal) Optional: Non-stick cooking spray (Spray inside of pie iron), put bread in each side, add filling. Clamp pie iron. Place in hot coals for about 5-10 minutes each side, flipping once. The edges should be dark, but not actively on fire. Remove iron from fire and unclamp, turn pie out onto plate and let cool until heat comfort level is reached. Eat!

Gardening! My lobelia, obedient plant, vervain, verbena, harebell, and anise hyssop flowered! I picked blueberries! My petunias have lived! I successfully transplanted lemon balm from cuttings (to a pot, the stuff is very aggressive and I'd like to bring it inside in the winter)/I somehow kept the "finicky" plants alive, but killed a nanny-berry (a notoriously hardy viburnum variety). The squirrels keep digging up my wild bergamot! But a 100% increase in bees and bugs, as was the goal! We have fireflies in our 1/4 acre city lot, which is very nice! (to see more bugs/birds, find out your city's grass cut limit and hang tight to it. Where we live it's a pretty generous 10", so lot's of "weed" plants can come up. We actually need to remove a lot of the beech and maples that are growing in places they really shouldn't (like 6" from the house foundation), but we've let all the clovers/violets/asters hang out. We also use a push reel mower and an electric weed whip instead of a normal two stroke mower, which both do a worse job of mowing grass but a better job of not annihilating the things we want growing!

Art fairs! I bought so many mugs, I'm going to need a second mug hutch! (My first mug hutch was the first piece of furniture I bought because I wanted it, not needed it. It is red, with dark green insides. The doors stick and the glass is cracked, but I adore it!). I collect mugs, but I may need to purge if I keep this up. I also bought a "rice vest". It's like a hot sock, but a vest. It has a bunch of little sections full of rice so the weight is evenly distributed. You can microwave it or freeze it. Great for my tense shoulders! I love it so much, I attached a picture!

Art classes! I took multi-media storytelling, which was basically working with collages! I made some pretty cool pieces, and it inspired me to start cleaning my side of the basement for an art studio. I'm going to sign up for more classes in the fall, see if I can get into the pottery courses (our local art center has all sorts of classes for adults, but the pottery ones are the most popular and actually have an order you need to take them to unlock them in). 100% recommend, it was nice doing something creative with other people.

Birding! Not too seriously, but I got a pocket guide and Miles bought some nice binoculars (the lad loves optics and lenses, it's the fun part of photography for him) and we take 'em on hikes! Highlights so far are some cedar wax wings (not uncommon, but not something we see a ton around where we live), a bald eagle, several great blue herons (the nature center by us is a big river/wetland, so lots of birds stop over), and a black crowned night heron. We also got caught in a surprise thunderstorm while looking at some red-winged blackbirds, which was an experience!

That's really for it, it's just been a busy time and I wanted to share! Have a wonderful day!

[thelustybraavosimaid]

This part of the wolfswood was full of ghosts, and she saw them plain.

In the dense thicket of trees she saw wisps of them flow in and out of her vision as if they were passing through some invisible river, incorporeal essence dripping from them. They emerged from the sentinels and oak trees and passed through them without effort, taking on shapes of their own. The figures assumed familiar forms—of her mother and father, of Robb, even Grey Wind and Lady loped in the spaces between.

She swallowed down the thick lump in her throat as she reached for them, trailing after them as best she could in calf-deep snow like a stumbling child...

...and suddenly they were gone, and all that remained was her, alone, standing before three heart trees.

Had they deliberately led her here? She stared up at the gods, seeing the wisdom in their faces, centuries of knowledge buried in their snow-piled roots and moonlight white barks.

They watched her vigilantly through their ancient eyes, seemingly following her every move, and she watched them in turn. Bloody red sap crusted their eyes, their opened mouths, seeped through the cracks of their melancholy faces. They appraised her until she felt like they knew every secret she kept close and hard in her heart.

These are her gods. Her father's gods. Jon's gods.

Arya shivered under their wordless gaze. Maybe they could give her the answer she sought, give her guidance like they had before. She dared to hope.

"I beg you again, you gods," she peeled off a leathern glove and let the fingers grace the bark, as light a touch as a kiss. Her hand was freezing, but she didn't care, she just wanted to see Jon again. "Tell me—is Jon there?"

Saying Jon's name out loud made her sad.

Arya heard nothing in return but rustling leaves, distant waters rushing, and the shift of the wind blowing underneath her cloak. She was tempted to ask the question again until the howl of a wolf and the mirrored song of hundreds more filled the quiet, from beyond her sight and deeper still into the shadows. Her voice died to a hushed breath. Goosepimples pricked her arms, and her chest rose and fell harder than before. All of a sudden, she felt lightheaded and dizzy, and she leaned against the tree for support.

"Head home, daughter of the north," she heard. The old gods lent encouragement to her with her father's voice once, but this time there were far too many speaking in unison to be able to discern any of them.

"But I can't," she whispered. She chewed on her lip and felt her teeth quivering against the captured skin. "If he's not really there, I'll break," she finished. Grey eyes glanced at the face before her. Had it always looked this sympathetic?

It felt as if frozen lightning coursed through her veins and under her skin when she heard whispers of Jon in the taverns and brothels of the Ragman's Harbor, dark words that fluttered even darker than raven's wings. She didn't want to remember, but the memory came unbidden. The Black Bastard of the Wall, slaughtered by his own men, they said.

She hadn't remembered much after hearing them.

The last thing she recalled was of her pushing a loose stone away to recover Needle, trembling hands clutching it tight as she struggled to breathe. The hole in her heart was dangerously close to swallowing her completely then. "Haven't I been broken enough?"

The Faceless Men taught her to steel her emotions, and yet she had never felt more pitiful than she had now. She was supposed to be as strong as Nymeria and fierce and terrible as the little grey cousins that pad after her heels, but right now she felt like some stupid grey mouse girl on the verge of falling apart, never to recover this time. She filled her palm with Needle's pommel, thinking of Jon's smile.

The gods were quiet again. She heard no voices, save for the calls of various night birds, and saw no more ghostly figures of her family, but it was the silence that was the worst part. Suddenly a well of anger exploded in her chest, though it felt silly to be wroth with nameless gods. Arya wiped at a tear that fell with furious fingers that she could barely bend, numb with cold.

"Just give me a sign. Anything, anything at all--"

She hadn't realised that she was crying. And she also hadn't noticed the warm rasp of a tongue licking at her face until a blur of white covered part of her vision. Arya jumped back, only to catch the crimson of a pale direwolf's eyes staring back at her, watching her silently. They were as crimson as weirwood sap and drank the light of the moon and distant stars, and she wasn't sure if she had seen something so pretty before, nor reassuring.

How had she not noticed him? It was a question she could not rightly answer. But the wolf was far larger and taller than she was, even bigger than Nymeria, and her head could barely reach Nymeria's chest.

"Ghost," she whispered, then the tears fell fat upon her cheeks, dripping cold from her chin. He stalked closer, and let his wet nose nudge against her exposed hand, the heat of his breath warming her skin. Her own wolf brushed against her side before taking her place beside her litter-mate. Hope bloomed eternal in her chest, and she felt the darkness in her heart brighten, just a shade or two. "Take me home, Ghost. Take me to him."

[dustedmagazine]

Glenn Jones — Vade Mecum (Thrill Jockey)

Vade Mecum by Glenn Jones

There is a lot to be said for consistency. For nearly 20 years, Glenn Jones has been creating solo guitar music in the tradition of Fahey and Basho at a measured but steady pace. The focus of Vade Mecum, his first release since 2018’s The Giant Who Ate Himself, is on the six-string played without a slide, apart from two banjo pieces. The tunes tend to unfold at mid-tempo and with the logic of a short story as, once more, Jones composes and performs, with seeming effortlessness, a set of memorable melodies that reward repeated listening.

The tracks that open and close the collection are the most traditional, but, typically, each is distinctive. Thus, “Forsythia” begins with deep, ominous notes and then develops a delicate melody punctuated by string bends and slows to a crawl at the end. “John Jackson of Fairfax, Virginia,” pays tribute to the great Piedmont guitarist and singer, whom Jones knew and recorded, with a jaunty blues.  

“Black & White and Gray” and “Each Crystal Pane of Glass” rely less on alternating bass and more on strings of notes and pauses. The longest of the tracks at around five-and-a-half minutes each, they amble along amiably without belaboring the point.  

The banjo pieces are brief and enhanced, in the case of “Bay Harbor Head,” by field recordings (rather like “Spokane River Falls” on 2016’s Fleeting) and, on “Ruthie’s Farewell,” the violin of the friend named in the title, whose playing is reminiscent of Jenny Scheinman’s.  

Musicians frequently rework themes throughout their careers; examples include not only Fahey and Basho but also Thelonious Monk. Some patterns are evident across Jones’s work as a whole, such as a move to shorter songs and away from the shimmering epics (often on 12-string) prominent on his first few solo guitar recordings. The through-lines include precise and complex fingering, even (or especially) on the slower songs (e.g., “Kathy Maltese” on the present record), and the aforementioned ear for melody.  

Other guitarists in the genre who debuted in this century have often, like Fahey, sought to transcend or expand the fraught notion of “American Primitive” by going electric, expanding to a full band, incorporating noise, adding vocals, and so on, often quite successfully (e.g., Daniel Bachman, C. Joynes, Sarah Louise Henson). Jones has, instead, leaned into the genre, having perhaps sated his desire for radical experimentation with his 1990s-early 2000s band Cul de Sac.  

As someone who knew Fahey and Basho as well as figures such as John Jackson, Jones spans the generations, but he wears his elder statesman status lightly. It’s not difficult to imagine him taking a left turn on a future recording, but lovers of the style that traces back to Elizabeth Cotten and John Fahey (and, of course, beyond), whatever that style should be called, would be well-served by more recordings along these lines, for consistency like this is its own form of art.  

Jim Marks

[titoist]

The Great Khan owns an atlas where all the cities of the empire and the neighboring realms are drawn, building by building and street by street, with walls, rivers, bridges, harbors, cliffs, He realizes that from Marco Polo's tales it is pointless to expect news of those places, which for that matter he knows well: how at Kambalu, capital of China, three square cities stand one within the other, each with four temples and four gates that are opened according to the seasons, how in that island of Java the rhinoceros rages, charging, with his murderous horn; how pearls are gathered on the ocean bed off the coasts of Malabar. Kublai asks Marco, "When you return to the West, will you repeat to your people the same tales you tell me?" "I speak and speak," Marco says, "but the listener retains only the words he is expecting. The description of the world to which you lend a benevolent ear is one thing; the description that will go the rounds of the groups of stevedores and gondoliers on the street outside my house the day of my return is another; and yet another, that which I might dictate late in life, if I were taken prisoner by Genoese pirates and put in irons in the same cell with a writer of adventure stories. It is not the voice that commands the story: it is the ear." "At times I feel your voice is reaching me from far away, while I am prisoner of a gaudy and unlivable present, where all forms of human society have reached an extreme of their cycle and there is no imagining what new forms they may assume. And I hear, from your voice, the invisible reasons which make cities live, through which perhaps, once dead, they will come to life again."

The Great Khan owns an atlas whose drawings depict the terrestrial globe all at once and continent by continent, the borders of the most distant realms, the ships' routes, the coastlines, the maps of the most illustrious metropolises and of the most opulent ports. He leafs through the maps before Marco Polo's eyes to put his knowledge to the test. The traveler recognizes Constantinople in the city which from three shores dominates a long strait, a narrow gulf, and an enclosed sea; he remembers that Jerusalem is set on two hills, of unequal height, facing each other; he has no hesitation in pointing to Samarkand and its gardens. For other cities he falls back on descriptions handed down by word of mouth, or he guesses on the basis of scant indications: and so Granada, the streaked pearl of the caliphs; Lubeck, the neat, boreal port; Timbuktu, black with ebony and white with ivory; Paris, where millions of men come home every day grasping a wand of bread. In colored miniatures the atlas depicts inhabited places of unusual form: an oasis hidden in a fold of the desert from which only palm crests peer out is surely Nefta; a castle amid quicksands and cows grazing in meadows salted by the tides can only suggest Mont-Saint-Michel; and a palace that instead of rising within a city's walls contains within its own walls a city can only be Urbino. The atlas depicts cities which neither Marco nor the geographers know exist or where they are, though they cannot be missing among the forms of possible cities: a Cuzco on a radial and multipartite plan which reflects the perfect order of its trade, a verdant Mexico on the lake dominated by Montezuma's palace, a Novgorod with bulb-shaped domes, a Lhassa whose white roofs rise over the cloudy roof of the world. For these, too, Marco says a name, no matter which, and suggests a route to reach them. It is known that names of places change as many times as there are foreign languages; and that every place can be reached from places, by the most various roads and routes, by those who ride, or drive, or row, or fly. "I think you recognize cities better on the atlas than when you visit them in person," the emperor says to Marco, snapping the volume shut. And Polo answers, "Traveling, you realize that differences are lost: each city takes to resembling all cities, places exchange their form, order, distances, a shapeless dust cloud invades the continents. Your atlas preserves the differences intact: that assortment of qualities which are like the letters in a name."

The Great Khan owns an atlas in which are gathered the maps of all the cities: those whose walls rest on solid foundations, those which fell in ruins and were swallowed up by the sand, those that will exist one day and in whose place now only bares' holes gape. Marco Polo leafs through the pages; he recognizes Jericho, Ur, Carthage, he points to the landing at the mouth of the Scamander where the Achaean ships waited for ten years to take the besiegers back on board, until the horse nailed together by Ulysses was dragged by windlasses through the Scaean gates. But speaking of Troy, he happened to give the city the form of Constantinople and foresee the siege which Mohammed would lay for long months until, astute as Ulysses, he had his ships drawn at night up the streams from the Bosporus to the Golden Horn, skirting Pera and Galata. And from the mixture of those two cities a third emerged, which might be called San Francisco and which spans the Golden Gate and the bay with long, light bridges and sends open trams climbing its steep streets, and which might blossom as capital of the Pacific a millennium hence, after the long siege of three hundred years that would lead the races of the yellow and the black and the red to fuse with the surviving descendants of the whites in an empire more vast than the Great Khan's. The atlas has these qualities: it reveals the form of cities that do not yet have a form or a name. There is the city in the shape of Amsterdam, a semicircle facing north, with concentric canals--the princes', the emperor's, the nobles'; there is the city in the shape of York, set among the high moors, walled, bristling with towers; there is the city in the shape of New Amsterdam known also as New York, crammed with towers of glass and steel on an oblong island between two rivers, with streets like deep canals, all of them straight, except Broadway. The catalogue of forms is endless: until every shape has found its city, new cities will continue to be born. When the forms exhaust their variety and come apart, the end of cities begins. In the last pages of the atlas there is an outpouring of networks without beginning or end, cities in the shape of Los Angeles, in the shape of Kyoto-Osaka, without shape.

[hindisoup]

Bodies of Water Vocabulary

जल निकाय, जलराशि - body of water (masculine) जलाशय - water reservoir (masculine) जल, पानी - water (masculine) * water can be प्रवाहमान, प्रवाहशील, बहने वाला (running, flowing) or ठहरा हुआ (still, standing), खारा, नमकीन (salty) or मीठा (fresh water), छिछला (shallow) or गहरा (deep). खारापन - salinity, saltiness (masculine) गहराई - depth (feminine) भूजल - groundwater (masculine) बहना - to flow (intransitive) सागर, समुद्र, समुंदर - sea (masculine) * सागर तल - 1. sea level, 2. ocean floor (masculine) * भूमध्य सागर - Mediterranean Sea (masculine) * लाल सागर - Red Sea (masculine) * काला सागर - Black sea (masculine) * मृत सागर - Dead Sea (masculine) * कैस्पियन सागर - Caspian Sea (masculine) समुद्री - marine, sea related (adjective) महासागर - ocean (masculine) * प्रशान्त महासागर - Pacific Ocean (masculine) * अटलांटिक महासागर - Atlantic Ocean (masculine) * हिन्द महासागर - Indian Ocean (masculine) * आर्कटिक महासागर - Arctic Ocean (masculine) * अंटार्कटिका महासागर - Antarctica Ocean (masculine) तालाब, पोखर - pond, small lake (masculine) * water reservoirs, lakes and ponds can be either कृत्रिम (artificial, man-made) or प्राकृतिक (natural). कुंड - terraced water reservoir (masculine) नदी - river (feminine) नाला - watercourse, channel (masculine) झील - lake (feminine), also सरोवर (masculine) * a lake or pond can be द्वीपरहित (island-less) * सुपीरियर झील - Lake Superior (feminine) झरना - 1. waterfall, also जल प्रपात (masculine) 2. spring, also सोता (masculine) * गर्म पानी का झरना - geyser, hot water spring * नायाग्रा जल प्रपात - Niagara Falls (masculine) धारा, प्रवाह - water flow, current (masculine) * गहरे सागर की जटिल धारा - deep sea current नहर - canal (feminine) * स्वेज़ नहर - Suez Canal (feminine) तट, किनारा - coast, beach (masculine) * समुद्र तटीय seaside, coastal (adjective) जलसंधि, जलडमरूमध्य - strait (masculine) द्वीप - island (masculine) प्रायद्वीप - peninsula (masculine) खाड़ी- bay, gulf (feminine) * फ़ारस की खाड़ी - Persian Gulf (feminine) * मेक्सिको की खाड़ी - Gulf of Mexico ज्वार-भाटा - tide (masculine) * ज्वार - high tide * भाटा - ebb, low tide * ज्वार की लहर - tidal wave (feminine) * ज्वारीय प्रवाह - tidal flow, current (masculine) लहर - wave (feminine) * लहराना - to wave (intransitive) * a wave can be ऊँची (high), प्रचंड (raging) or विनाशकारी (destructive) बाढ़ - flood (feminine) * अचानक आई बाढ़ - flash flood * मौसमी बाढ़ - seasonal flood सुनामी - tsunami (feminine) हिमानी - glacier (feminine) बंदरगाह - port, harbor (feminine) मछुआरा - fisherman (masculine) तैराकी - swimming (feminine) नौकायन - sailing, yachting (feminine)

Sea Creatures

समुद्री स्तनधारी जीव - marine mammals (masculine) मछली - fish (feminine) समुद्री सिवार - seaweed (feminine) मूंगा - coral (masculine) सागर की कौड़ी - seashell (feminine) कस्तूरा - shellfish, oyster (masculine) झींगा - shrimp, prawn (masculine) केकड़ा - crab (masculine) तारामीन - star fish (masculine) अश्वमीन - seahorse (masculine) ह्वेल - whale (masculine) सूंस - dolphin (masculine) हाँगर - shark (masculine) जलव्याघ्र - sea lion (masculine) अष्टबाहु - octopus (masculine)

[kp777]

by Sammy Herdman

MongaBay

3 October 2022

The Uinta Basin is home to a diverse set of creatures from endangered black-footed ferrets to plants that cannot be found anywhere else in the world, such as the Uinta Basin hookless cactus and Graham’s beardtongue.

But the basin also sits atop pockets of crude oil and natural gas, which are being extracted: to transport these fossil fuels to the Gulf Coast, local governments and oil companies are planning to invest up to $4.5 billion to construct a new railway through it.

Although the project has been approved, construction hasn’t begun and it’s not too late for U.S. President Biden to keep his climate pledges and stop the new railway, a new op-ed argues.

This article is a commentary. The views expressed are those of the author, not necessarily of Mongabay.

The Uinta Basin, named after the Ute Tribe, is located in Northeast Utah and Western Colorado, about 200 miles from Salt Lake City. Streams from the Uinta mountains roll through the basin into a tributary of the Colorado River – supplying 40 million people with water throughout the drought-ridden West. Plants that cannot be found anywhere else in the world, such as the Uinta Basin hookless cactus and Graham’s beardtongue, flourish in the Uinta Basin. The ecosystem also harbors endangered species such as the sage grouse and black-footed ferret.

By all accounts, the Uinta Basin is a beautiful ecological haven. Unfortunately, however, it sits atop pockets of crude oil and natural gas, which are being extracted. To transport crude oil to the Gulf Coast where it will be refined, local governments and oil companies are planning to invest $1.5 to $4.5 billion to construct a new railway through the basin.

The Uinta Basin Railway is a proposed 88-mile stretch of train tracks that will blast through mountains, reroute 443 streams, bulldoze through endangered sage grouse habitat, appropriate private property and even fragment a roadless area in the Ashley National Forest. According to the U.S. Forest Service Chief, “a railway does not constitute a road.” The railway is projected to quadruple the region’s oil extraction from 85,000 up to 350,000 barrels of oil per day – resulting in an increase in air pollution, noise pollution, habitat degradation and a greater risk of water pollution, train derailments and wildfires. The region already suffers from chronic air pollution, falling below federal standards for ozone pollution set by the Environmental Protection Agency.

By quadrupling fossil fuel extraction in the Uinta Basin, construction of the railway is projected to increase U.S. carbon emissions by 1%. Escalating climate change will bring more wildfires and more drought to the region – at a time when the Biden administration should be actively trying to reduce carbon emissions to prevent further climate change-fueled catastrophes.

Uinta Basin is freckled with small cities and towns such as Vernal, Duchesne and Jensen. The region’s economic history can be summarized as a series of boom and bust cycles due to its reliance on fossil fuels. The whims of the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) and the fluctuations of oil prices determine the quality of life for many people in the Uinta Basin. These fluctuations often send communities into periods of growth and stretches of economic depression that threaten small business and family security.

Proponents of the Uinta Basin Railway claim that its construction will diversify the economy of the region by connecting it to the global market. However, there is little evidence that the railway will be used to transport anything but oil to or from the region, especially because at least 130,000 barrels of oil per day will have to be transported to recoup the cost of construction. This will only cause harm and exacerbate boom and bust cycles.

[southernlovergirl]

fell in love with vancouver this week on my trip! while i am glad to be home, i am also excited again because my best friend & i are planning a girls weekend for her fall break, and i brought back some goodies from canada to share in our autumn-themed charcuterie board we’re planning to make together!! ♡

first on my expedition into the famous Granville Market, i met this girl selling local honey and she was so sweet. I instantly fell in love & bought a little gift basket with a selection of several flavored honeys! the little 3oz jars from the Chilliwack River Valley Natural Honey came in the flavors Wildflower, Blueberry, and Mountain honey, packaged in a braided wicker basket with tiny black eyed susans and straw for stuffing. i love that every jar lid was wrapped in soft tartan cloth and fastened with gold twine.

i also met an older woman with lovely silver hair and a kind smile working a stand close to the harbor on Granville Island and selling candied nuts. She let me taste test as many as I chose and was eager for me to try them all! I finally settled on the Canadian maple almonds packaged in a cellophane cone & tied with a pretty red ribbon. I loved the taste and thought they’d be the perfect addition to my fall charcuterie selection!

and lastly, i met a really sweet French guy in the market selling cheeses of all kinds. There was gorgeous fresh brie and pecorino romano and some with beautiful rinds with names I could hardly pronounce. Sadly I didn’t think I could find a way to make the cheeses last the trip or my journey back to the states. So he suggested I at least try some of their preserves! He recommended his favorite to me, an orchard pear & pinot noir confiture, and I ended buying a second, the more popular of the two, a fig & walnut wine preserve. I think the figs, notes of walnuts, and slight taste of cinnamon in the pear jam will pair so nicely I think with the rest of our pickings for the autumn palate!

anyhow, vancouver was so lovely & I am so desperate to go back. i will post some photos here when i can (or when i remember!)

much love, B ♡

[amitapaul]

15/8

8/4/24

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#24GloPoWriMo

Prompt Dated : 2024 April 8

Response No : 1

Poem No: 15

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Prompt : Write a poem that centers around an encounter or relationship between two people (or things) that shouldn’t really have ever met – whether due to time, space, age, the differences in their nature, or for any other reason.

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Featured Poem :

Today, we have two featured participants: (1) Behind Door Number 3 and Orangepeel, where you’ll find very differnt, but compelling, takes on Day 7’s postcard prompt.

1

Behind Door No 3

Postcard, unwritten.

The sound of his laughter,

as slick as watermelon seeds,

tastes like the feeling of

bare feet running through

a sprinkler made rainbow

hovering above the thick

scent of a shaded, mown lawn.

There is a wicker porch chair

proposing a seamless, wide-angle

view of this scene; its empty

cushions missing the welcomed

weight of your presence, and

the posture of all the stories

you would have told.

2.

Orangepeel

Postcard to the Ex

There's a bear in the back yard

and piranhas in the kitchen sink.

The kids are dressing like clowns

and the bank took back the TV.

The car lost a wheel and a door.

Someone painted our windows black.

Your favorite chair caught fire,

and last night during the storm,

a huge tree limb crashed

through the bedroom ceiling

and onto your side of the bed.

Wish you were here.

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Poetry Resource :

Our featured resource today is this animated video of a talk given by the poet Jane Hirshfield on the art of the metaphor.

The Elephant in the Room, Still waters run deep.

Fog

The fog comes

on little cat feet.

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on.

Carl Sandburg

****

Mother to Son

BY LANGSTON HUGHES

Well, son, I’ll tell you:

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

It’s had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor—

Bare.

But all the time

I’se been a-climbin’ on,

And reachin’ landin’s,

And turnin’ corners,

And sometimes goin’ in the dark

Where there ain’t been no light.

So boy, don’t you turn back.

Don’t you set down on the steps

’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.

Don’t you fall now—

For I’se still goin’, honey,

I’se still climbin’,

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

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Prompt : Today, we challenge you to write a poem that centers around an encounter or relationship between two people (or things) that shouldn’t really have ever met – whether due to time, space, age, the differences in their nature, or for any other reason.

Our ( optional) prompt for the day takes its inspiration from Laura Foley’s poem “Year End.”

Year End

I want to bury him

though I doubt it's appropriate

for a butterfly.

Perhaps I'll climb the icy hill,

trudge through woods and slippery snow,

to place him as close as I can to sky,

in the field he would have floated over,

on his way to Mexico,

if October hadn't been too cold for flight.

The orange-and-black-winged beauty

thrived, in his screened-in cage,

lit with purple happy lights,

and fed every day by hand,

his proboscis dipped in honey water,

until, on Christmas day,

he birthed three sacs of sperm,

a rare gift for me these days.

Finding no mate,

he folded his wings and died,

face pressed into the New Year's daisy

I gave him, as a human lover might.

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Poem Title : Lost in Sugga Falls

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We sat on the warm wet rocks of the graded gentle Sugga Falls

Named after the fabled Parrot of the legend of lovers

An Australian priest sang about in the unfamiliar language of the Munda tribe

With brushwood and ferns and mosses filling in the gaps

Left by the teak, sal, arjun, aasan, mahua, semal, palaash trees

For the sands of the Koel river and her husband explained

To the doctor couple from Delhi the healthcare needs

Of the local population. Trout leaped in the sunlit stream and I thought

One could not be closer to heaven, so I asked her

How long she would stay and she replied

“ I miss the bright lights and the malls.

I’m leaving next week. How soon do you think my husband’s deputation papers will come through ? “

Blind, blind, blind. And thus lost around us everyday.

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Poet : Amita Sarjit Ahluwalia

Poem 15/8th Day

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[munnvalencia77]

Guangzhou Travel Guide - Live And Travel In Guangzhou

Check your ferry tickets to make sure that a person on time upon your return. Drive a car for the province and maximize your leisure and pleasure. This brief guide will assist you to effectively plan your visit to Thailand. Sitting high above the city, the Castle of Santa Barbara is likely the most popular attraction in Alicante. Tin Top An Giang AZ News You may get an excellent view laptop or computer from the harbor as your cruise ship pulls into port. The Castle of Santa Barbara was built back previously 9th century by Moors on Mount Benacantil. Ended up being opened on the public in 1963. Tin Top An Giang AZ And do not worry, elevators have been installed inside the mountain so that you can up. View More: topangiangaz.com - Top An Giang AZ Reviewed by Team Leader in Top An Giang AZ: HỒ NGỌC LAN - Ho Ngoc Lan Once it reaches the town of Chainat it splits into two flows. One these flows (The Tha Chin) flows parallel on the main river before exiting to can be of Thailand just west of Samut Sakhon. Time is an important aspect to consider with your plan. Why don't we say require to to pay a visit to Cebu, a province of the Philippine for island-hopping. Supposedly, upon your arrival by way of USA, you stay at a hotel in Manila, the capital. It will need around 45 minutes to obtain from Manila to Cebu by ep. All things considered, when you arrive in Cebu City, Cebu, could be wondering want to fall asleep a bit and begin your island-hopping journey the following day. Top An Giang AZ 24h For all probability, have to have a day or payday loans no fax to move from one island for the next.

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[therealcrimediary]

A container ship crashed into a major bridge in Baltimore, causing it to collapse and vehicles to fall into the river below. Rescuers were searching for survivors, with two people rescued from the water, one in serious condition. Authorities believed there could be up to seven people missing. The cause of the crash was unclear, but it created a "developing mass casualty event" in the city just outside of Washington. The ship hit one of the bridge's supports, causing it to snap and buckle before tumbling into the water. The bridge collapse was captured on video and posted on social media, showing the shocking moment when the structure came down. Thick, black smoke billowed from the vessel, which caught fire after the crash. Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott described it as "an unthinkable tragedy" and likened it to a scene from an action movie. Sonar indicated that there were vehicles in the water, with the temperature around 47 degrees Fahrenheit at the time of the incident. The collapse occurred during the night when traffic on the bridge would be lighter. The Baltimore Fire Department reported that several vehicles, including a tractor-trailer truck, were on the bridge at the time of the collapse. The bridge connects to a busy harbor and is a critical entry point for the Port of Baltimore, a major shipping hub on the East Coast. Governor Wes Moore declared a state of emergency and sought federal resources to respond to the disaster. The FBI also arrived at the scene to investigate the incident. The ship involved in the crash was the Dali, owned and managed by Synergy Marine Group, headed from Baltimore to Colombo, Sri Lanka. The Dali, flying under a Singapore flag, hit a pillar of the bridge at around 1:30 am while two pilots were in control. The crew members, including the pilots, were safe, with no reports of injuries. The container ship is nearly 1,000 feet long and 157 feet wide, according to data from Marine Traffic. This incident brings back memories of a similar disaster in 2001 when a freight train carrying hazardous materials derailed in a downtown Baltimore tunnel, causing a fire and releasing black smoke into the surrounding neighborhoods. The city had to close all major roads temporarily in response to that incident. The impact of the bridge collapse in Baltimore has been significant, with authorities working to assess the full extent of the damage and potential casualties. The sudden nature of the disaster, occurring in the early hours of the morning, caught many by surprise and left rescuers scrambling to respond. The investigation into the cause of the crash and the actions taken by the ship's crew will be crucial in determining accountability for the incident. The community is mourning the loss of lives and property in this tragic event, with a sense of shock and sorrow gripping the city.