#curve lake first nation

[elmundodeflor]

And just like that, she’d fallen for him.

Spring. Summer. Autumn. The world had its cycles. There had been peace before war, and peace would come after bloodsheds and battles.

Katara looks at Zuko, at how he stares out to the width in the horizons. The curves of his nose and lips are soft, much like the colors of the leaves around them. The lines of his jaw and cheeks are sharp, in contrast.

He’s a beautiful man; she’s always thought so, even when they were enemies and he’d sworn he’d kill them. She likes it better this way, though— being friends, confidants, long-time companions. Kindness suits him more, either way. She likes how his face looks when he’s calm, — when there’s no rage to contort his scar, no scowl furrowing his brow.

She also likes that he knows her. That they can stand, silence pending between them, and it’s never too tense or uncomfortable. Zuko is just that good to her. He never puts too much pressure on her shoulders, — she’s had enough of that already. Instead, he soothes the rough edges. Lets her make her own choices and never judges her for them.

He looks back at her. An easy smile grazes his features; baffling, tortuous, beautiful. Katara has to fight the urge to freeze some water from her bottle and smash it across her searing face.

“Do you wanna…”, his voice cuts through the wind, raspy as it ever was. When he talks, it’s evident that he’s nervous. That he’s been circling around his thoughts and can’t seem to find the words. “I mean…”, he tries again. “Do you wanna stay here until you decide what to do?”

She hums, then turns her gaze back to the gardens. Aang had asked her to travel the world along with him, — to be by his side and help other people, from other nations and villages. She had yet to give him a proper answer.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to— go on missions, hear the masses’ suffering and be present in whatever way she could. Maybe, it was that she simply had pictured something different for herself. She could be so much more than just the “Avatar’s girl”! She could go home, lend a useful hand to Sokka and her dad advocating for their tribe. She could be an ambassador.

She could be with Zuko.

She can imagine the whole thing all too well, actually, — being on the palace, with him, until she could confront Aang about what to do. They could go for an evening stroll, feed turtleducks by the lake. Zuko’d make tea way past dinner time, and she’d laugh along with Suki when he’d burn his tongue by the first sip.

“There’s nothing I’d like more.”, she tells him, then. They are in one of the many balconies, staring out at the sun. The last scraps of summer have flushed with the breeze, and now the trees look all kinds of reds, yellows, oranges. Almost like they’ve caught on fire.

Zuko smiles at her again. A shy, wonderful thing that makes his eyes glint. His hair’s shaggy and overgrown, and falls limp between the honey of his irises. His cheeks burn a bright pink that, Katara deduces, might be from the gentle light warming up their faces.

“Okay.”, he says. He likes this, as well, — having her around. That he can open up to someone he can share his scars with, both the physical and the ones that lay underneath.

Katara inches close to him, just enough so that their elbows nudge together. The world has its cycles, she believes. Blue skies bleed into the darkness of the night. Ice defrosts when heated-up. And just like that, she’d fall for Zuko— delicate, and raw, and over and over. Helpless, like the moon that carries down the tides. Hopeless, like the autumn leaves that fall, ever so slow, and now gather at their feet like sea-foam.

“Okay.”

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

chapter eleven: star-spangled eyes

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 7.9k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), polite southern manners, feeling familial and self-pressure, ESTABLISHED relationship FINALLY, spanish cause joel is latino, unprotected p in v, dirty talkkk king joel miller, soft (and soft dom) joel, possessive joel, mentions of depression and symptoms, struggling with self, discussion of parenting, angst, MAJOR doubt! and displays of nationalism! yay!

a/n: thank you as always to the bestie/cousin/sister wife/sweet, sweet gf @northernbluess for beta-reading this chapter, seriously i can't write without you so don't ever leave me pls. also thank you all for being so patient with this chapter while i was away! enjoy xxx

“Morning, Millers! Happy Fourth!” Your dad’s voice booms in your ear from where he stands behind you at the garage door, waving to the three Millers as they walk over to your driveway. “Y’all ready for a day on the lake?”

“Sure are. Thanks again for invitin’ us, can we pack up the cooler and everything in my truck? Might make it easier to access since you’ve got the boat hitched up here.” Joel glances your way, the slightest curve of his mouth when you catch his stare, turning toward your dad.

“Well, that’d be just great! We’ve got a couple more bags inside, but think you can take care of these things for now?” Your dad gestures to the things behind you both, clapping his hands when Joel confirms and steps forward to grab the supplies. Slipping back into the house to help your mom with last-minute prep, your dad leaves you with the Miller crew outside.

“Long time, no see, Posey.” Tommy teases as he grabs a tote from his older brother as Joel gives him a glare, earning a smile and shrug from you. “Definitely didn’t hear you sneaking out the kitchen door this mornin’ from my place sleeping on the couch.”

“Get all of that out now before we’re constantly around my parents all day, Thomas.” Joel straightens up at the slightest edge of your voice, masked with teasing as he walks away from you standing with Tommy, grumbling to himself as he goes to load everything for the festivities into his truck.

“Yeesh, somebody’s in a mood. Sometimes he wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, but you probably know that.” Tommy hikes the bag onto his shoulder further, grimacing slightly with a familiar furrowed brow — you can see even more of the resemblance with that.

“I’ve seen him crabby, but it’s honestly been pretty rare. He was fine this morning.” Watching from your driveway, Joel’s shoulders move underneath the navy t-shirt he’s got on, lifting everything into the bed of his truck. Tommy follows over there, loading up the rest of the things that your dad brings out from the house. You pick up one tote, Joel approaching behind you and skimming a hand over your lower back.

“I can take that, sweetheart.” He holds a hand out at your side, giving you a tight lip smile as you nod and stutter out an agreement, handing the bag over to him. Your parents walk outside at that moment, your mom rifling through her purse while your dad calls into the house for your brother, Chris, before shutting the door.

“Everyone ready to go?” Your mom looks up, meeting your eyes as Joel gives her a nod and a smile, walking over to his truck to get Sarah in. “Oh gosh, we really overpacked, didn’t we?”

“You always pack for the boat as if we’re going on a sailing trip out to the Gulf. But at least we’ll be prepared,” you say with a laugh, adjusting the strap of your swimsuit underneath your cover-up dress, turning around, and exchanging another look with Joel as he climbs into his car.

There’s the smallest flash of those ‘what ifs’ that plagued your mind a few nights ago, tamped down for the last few days. You clear your throat of the acidic burn, climbing into the back of your dad’s truck and watching Chris shuffle out of the house still half asleep, climbing in next to you with a mumbled greeting.

After you ignore it, he asks, “What the hell has you in a mood?”

If only you could say something.

You climb out of the back of your dad’s truck once you reach the docks, making your way over to Joel’s truck parked in the lot to help unload while your dad and Chris drop the boat in. Sidling up to him at the back of the cab, you reach for your personal bag that you packed with your things like a book and extra sunscreen and a change of clothes. His hand intercepts yours, looking at you with one side of his mouth lifted.

“I got it for you, Mari. D’you mind walkin’ with Sarah?” He nods to where she’s stood on the sidewalk nearby, observing all of the boats in the small lakeside harbor. Glancing back at Joel, you give him a gentle smile, reaching to give his arm a squeeze.

“Thanks, J. I’ll take Sarah down there. You sure you and Tommy don’t need any help?” You suspiciously eye the amount of stuff occupying the truck bed, quirking a brow at him.

“Positive, darlin’. Y’all head down there, we’ll be right behind you both.” He leans in a few inches as if he’s going to kiss you, halting in his movements and letting out a barely audible sigh before straightening up again and looping a few more bags onto his arms. Your stomach flips around with the need to complete his motions, to close the gap that was there between you, but you respect the boundaries he wants to keep around your family, instead walking over to Sarah and taking her hand. 

Guiding her down the winding path, she tells you all about how excited she is to go swimming and to see the fireworks later, swinging your joined hands. You stop at the end of the dock, waiting as your dad and Chris pull around to where you and your mom are; Joel and Tommy come up behind you with all the goods, loading them onto the boat with your dad and Chris when they come around. Tommy hops on after swinging the cooler over the side, Joel stepping down after. Your dad offers your mom a hand while Joel picks up Sarah easily and sets her down, reaching a hand out to you afterward.

Gingerly taking it, you swing one foot onto the seat, bringing the other over and tripping a bit. You sway back and forth, a heavy hand tightly gripping your side to steady you.

“Y’alright? Nearly fell in there, sweetheart.”

Nodding and taking a breath, Joel drops his hand from you and helps you the rest of the way down and onto the seat. Your mom digs out a child’s life jacket from one of the storage compartments, passing it to you.

“D’you mind getting that on Sarah, honey? She’s gotta wear it to stay safe. Too many nutcases out on the water today.”

You call Sarah over, smiling as she stands in front of you and explaining that she has to keep this on while everyone’s on the boat. Easily slipping her arms in, you close it in front of her chest, clipping and securing the clips one at a time. Joel sits next to you, a few more inches apart than normal, patting Sarah’s curls and giving you a sideways glance.

“You wanna sit here between us, mija?” Joel pats the spot, helping Sarah scoot back onto the bench. He stretches his arm behind her, grazing your arm and brushing his fingers against the knit material of your cover-up. Joel relaxes for the first time all morning, content to stay like this all day if it was his choice. Both of his girls next to him, as close as he can get to you without breaking the boundaries he set himself.

With everyone seated, your dad at the helm, the boat lurches to life when the engines turnover and it idly cruises out of the harbor area before picking up speed to drive around the lake for a bit. The wind blows against all of you, Sarah giggling at the excitement of the ride. You turn to look at her, beaming a smile as she holds onto your arm. Joel watches the small interaction, his heart pumping the subtlest bit harder in his chest.

You’re so patient with Sarah, so kind, compassionate, silly, and serious — you’re exactly what she needs right now, what she’s missing that Joel can’t quite ever be no matter how hard he tries.

The words burn into his mind, sitting in his throat where he holds it back on his tongue. Later. He can say it later. At some point.

After a few laps and weaves around the lake, your dad idles the boat up to a cluster of fellow lake-goers, dropping the anchor and turning off the engines. Everyone shuffled around, Sarah popping up and asking to go in the water straight away.

“Gotta put some sunscreen on ya first, Bug. How about we do that, wait a few minutes for it to dry and you can drink some water and then go swimming?” Joel stands up, glancing around for their own bag they packed. You’re still seated, sorting through your own tote and pulling out your sunscreen.

“Here, use mine. Sure we’ll find your bag in a minute but don’t think Sare-Bear here wants to wait any longer than she has to for swimming.” You smile at her before handing the tube off to Joel, a quiet “thanks” in response. He gets some on Sarah, asking her to sit and wait for it to dry before handing the lotion back to you. Joel steps around you to find their bag on the other end of the boat, walking back over with spray sunscreen and stripping off his shirt to apply some himself.

Stealing glances at you, his mouth dries out when he watches you peel off the cover-up, setting it aside and leaving you clad in your bikini. The sight of you applying the sunscreen sends him back to that first summer, the view from his window into yours of you naked and applying body lotion — a show only for him. He swallows hard and shakes himself out of his thoughts, ignoring you off to his side until he hears you speak up.

“Hey, Tommy, d’you mind gettin’ my back for me since you’re waitin’ on the sunscreen from Joel?” He watches you cross over to Tommy before he can call out a protest, the words dying in his throat when he knows he doesn’t have any claim over you today. Tommy shrugs at Joel, helping you out while he watches on enviously.

Huffing out a sigh, he finishes his own application, throwing the bottle back in the bag and sitting back down in the sun. He slips his sunglasses down onto the bridge of his nose from the top of his head, closing his eyes and basking in some of the warmth before Sarah begs to get into the water.

Joel hears you mumble a curse under your breath, feeling your presence next to him. Tilting his head down and opening his eyes again, he glances at you sideways and questions, “Something wrong?”

“I stupidly left my sunglasses in the car. I set them down next to my bag instead of putting them inside of it,” you sigh and look around the boat in hopes that some sort of idea pops into your head. Joel reaches up, takes off his own pair of glasses, and hands them to you.

“Here, y’can borrow mine. Won’t need them in the water with Sarah anyway, just gonna lose ‘em if I wear them in the lake.” He gives you a shrug and a thoughtful smile, your fingers brushing his when you exchange the sunglasses. Your own smile that you give him flips his insides, a knowing look shared that says ‘I’d kiss you right now if I could’.

And he desperately wants to.

“Thanks, J—oel. Joel,” you catch yourself with the affectionate nickname, stuttering out the rest of his name and making him chuckle as he stands up.

“Anytime.” A flash of a wink nearly makes you stutter again, slipping the glasses on as Joel, Sarah, Tommy, and Chris all get in the water to cool off from the already blazing heat.

About a half hour later, Joel and Tommy rumble up the ladder back onto the boat, leaving Chris in charge of entertaining Sarah by spinning her in the inner tube that’s been inflated. The Millers measly dry off before Tommy wanders over to the cooler. Joel steps over to where you’re lying out on the bench, shaking his curls out over you with your eyes closed behind his sunglasses. The cool water drips over you, opening your eyes in a flash and sitting up.

“Rude,” you mumble as you wipe the drips of water and Joel sits next to you where your thighs once were. He chuckles and shrugs casually, leaning back against the side of the boat and propping his elbows up behind him. He’s sitting only a few inches away, and with your parents sitting and chatting at the other end, they don’t hear as he leans in and speaks low to you.

“Y’looked hot. I was only tryin’ to cool you down.” He winks and smirks smugly, dragging his eyes up and down your body when you stand and patter over to the cooler where Tommy’s retrieved a beer from.

“You want a drink, Joel?” you ask over your shoulder, nodding in confirmation when he says yes.

“Probably should get some water as well. You, too. Gotta stay hydrated in the heat.”

“Hm, guess so.” You grab a plastic bottle and turn around, lobbing it to him to catch. You pick up another for yourself, grabbing a can of beer for Joel and a popsicle for you. As you turn around with your pickings, you take the beer can in one hand, heading straight on for Joel and press it into your skin against your sternum, sighing a bit extra as the icy cold aluminum sits against your sun-warmed body.

Dragging it across, the condensation drips across your body, dropping the can down in between your breasts as you stand with your back to your parents. Another sigh breathed directly towards Joel, the slightest pitch change up at the end indetectable to Tommy across the boat but unignorable for Joel.

He clears his throat, taking the can from you gingerly as you hold it out for him, equally as smug of a smirk on your face. You take your seat next to him again, setting your water bottle to the side of you and unwrapping the popsicle as Joel cracks his beer and takes a sip.

“Lucky it’s still cold,” he grumbles under his breath, making you laugh quietly and a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

Between your thumb and index, you grip the wooden stick of the red, white, and blue rocket pop, bringing it up to your lips and starting to lick it as you make conservation with Tommy, a thought popping into your head as ‘Fortunate Son’ by Creedence Clearwater Revival starts playing over the boat’s speakers.

“D’you get a lot of people thanking you for your service when they find out you were in the army, Tommy?”

“Eh, some really. Fellow veterans really don’t, and I don’t care to mention it that much to people. Most they notice is the sticker on my car in like the grocery store parking lots and they’ll say it quickly or give me a nod,” he shrugs and waves the question off, “Plus, you definitely don’t get people saying it to me on the Fourth. People gettin’ too drunk outta their minds in the name of their freedom.”

“Well, if no one else says it today, then thanks, Tommy. War is the stupidest thing man invented, but m’glad you made it home safe.”

Tommy holds up his can of beer and tips it toward you while you pop the icy, sugary treat out of your lips and hold it up with a laugh.

“Cheers,” he says with a smile.

Joel merely listened to you two the whole time, chatting back and forth while Tommy pounds his beer and tossed it into the recycling bag before jumping back into the lake. You’ve still got your popsicle, sliding it between your lips absentmindedly next to Joel, who keeps glancing to the side as you.

At the next, admittedly overdramatized, suck of popsicle between your lips, slurping the sugary juice before a drip slips out of the corner of your mouth. You wipe it up with your thumb, about to turn to Joel to ask if you’ve got food coloring on your face when he shifts next to you, one hand attempting to adjust himself before he grumbles a few curses and stands up. The water and beer are left ignored in cup holders, the small, subtle bulge in his trunks giving you a smirk that you bite back as he stomps over to the side of the boat and jumps in to cool off.

Throwing out the popsicle stick, you drink some of your water before meandering over to the side of the boat and climbing down the ladder and into the lake water. An instant chill is spread across your body, relaxing your muscles and washing off the slight sweat that built up under the blazing sun. Paddling over to the rest of the group in the water, you exchange a quick look with Joel before Sarah and Chris pull you into some sort of game. Twenty minutes go by before Sarah gets bored of the water, hungry and thirsty, and when Joel moves to help her out of the water and onto the boat, Tommy offers to get out with her to have another beer and some snacks himself. Chris gets out along with them, leaving you and Joel alone in the water.

He swims over to where you’re treading water, a soft, friendly smile on his face. “Hi, Mari.”

“Hey, J.”

A wider grin spreads across his lips, swimming away for a moment to fetch the inner tube that Sarah was using bringing it over and slipping it over your head. A laugh leaves your lips when you can’t see over it for a moment, pushing the tube down and climbing onto the side to lean on it. You float above Joel’s eyeline, his neck slightly tilted to look into your eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.

“You look nice today, darlin’,” he hums and treads water in front of you, reaching out a hand underwater and toying with the material of your swimsuit at your hip.

“Only nice?” you tease, leaning over the side of the inner tube a bit more, biting your bottom lip.

“Well, I could say more but probably don’t want my thoughts overheard,” he mirrors your smirk and snaps the elastic of the swimsuit against your skin, fingertips trailing down your thighs, “You do look more than nice though. You look beautiful. S’a pretty swimsuit and, uh, that dress thing—”

“My cover-up?”

“Yeah, yeah. I like your cover-up. It’s nice. A shame it covers up all this, but y’know you still look gorgeous either way.” He gives you a wink and squeezes one of your thighs.

“Thanks, J. You look pretty, too. But you always look pretty — got your curls and your tanned skin and broad shoulders and big brown eyes,” you giggle quietly as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head bashfully.

“You’re always pretty, too, Mari. You always look beautiful. La mujer más hermosa del mundo (The most beautiful woman in the world).”

It’s quiet for a moment as the two of you look at each other, silently admiring before you break first, your voice covered by all the commotion of the lake around you but audible to Joel right in front of you. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

His shoulders sag underwater and his brow creases subtly, bottom lip pouting, “M’sorry.”

“It’s okay, J. Wasn’t a good time to tell them. Later, right?” You give a sad smile that he returns, squeezing his hands against your thighs with a short nod.

“Later.”

After floating around and chatting with Joel until you were turning pruney and nearly falling asleep in the water, he pushes the inner tube toward the boat and follows behind you to get back.

“Y’need to get some water and somethin’ to eat, sweetheart. Probably dehydrated at this rate cause you look like you’re about to pass out.” Joel pats the tube with his hand to silently ask you to get out to go up the ladder.

“M’just sleepy, the sun feels warm. Like a cat, jus’ wanna nap in the sunlight,” you mumble out, stretching your arms up and your legs toward Joel underwater, pointed toes hitting his thighs. He grabs you by the ankles, tugging a bit to move you closer before he nods to the blown-up floaty.

“Maybe so, but you still haven’t had any water for at least an hour and you haven’t had anything to eat besides the popsicle. Let’s go up, Mariposa.” His voice is decided — filled with care and not control. It compels you to follow what he says, slipping the tube over your head and wading over to the ladder. Joel follows you out, dripping on the boat and grabbing his towel as your brother tosses yours from the bench.

Drying off and wrapping your towel around you, drops of water trail off of you all the way to the seat where you plop down next to Tommy. Joel heads to the cooler, grabbing out water for both of you. He asks around if anyone else wants one, getting a few hollered answers as he throws them all around. When he returns to sit down again, he hands you yours along with a snack — one of the Tupperware filled with some chopped fruit. Sarah wanders over when you open it, standing in front of you to share. Joel throws the bottle of sunscreen over to you, asking to reapply for Sarah and reminding you to do it for yourself. 

“Alright, everybody, heads up. The plan right now is to move the boat and park up by a friend of ours’ house on the lake here. And there we’ll grill out and have some dinner and then come back onto the boat for fireworks before headin’ home,” your dad explains as he moves back into the driving seat, “Sound alright for y’all?”

Everyone’s in agreement, kicking it into gear as you let Sarah next to you to continue sharing the snack while your dad lifts the anchor. Holding onto her while you ride over, Joel takes in the sight of you two across from him, a steady flap of butterfly wings smack dab in the middle of his chest.

Su Mariposa y su mariposita. His butterfly and his little butterfly — his Bug. His girls.

He finds himself thanking the universe for leading him to someone as nurturing and patient and kind as you to love. A lonely road ending with you.

It’s a thought he continues to have throughout the rest of the evening, small moments that he sees of you with his daughter, his brother, your own family and friends. Effortless. You make it all seem so effortless and natural, but Joel knows how much energy a day like today will take from you; from your spirit. He can’t claim to know exactly what’s on your mind, but all he can do is fight the urge to blurt out a loud ‘thank you’ in the middle of the lawn.

Even through everything, you have a smile on your face for him and your loved ones. You’re strong, perseverant. Someone he looks up to, and hopes that you can be that type of role model for his daughter. Not perfect, not idolized. Real.

“She’s just completely enamored with Sarah, isn’t she?” your mom’s voice pulls Joel out of his thoughts, realizing his eyes were trained in you and Sarah as you help her make a plate for dinner from the large spread on the deck tables. Joel looks up to his left, a gentle and sheepish smile on his face as he nods slowly.

“She’s great with Sarah. Has been since that first summer. I think Sarah has way more fun with her and listens to her way more than she does me,” Joel chuckles softly and your mom laughs with a nod.

“That’s how it always is. The kids always loved their babysitters and looked up to them in a different sort of way. We were lucky to have the sitters we did to help raise the kids right, y’know?”

“I do know. Feel the same way since we moved in next door. The whole family’s been a real help—“

“But there’s just something about her, isn’t there?”

“Exactly. Can’t quite put my finger on it. But there’s something special there. Maybe she should consider it for a career, nannying I mean. Always seemed to be happy with Sarah during the summer.” Both sets of eyes are still on you across the way, focused on Sarah and guiding her through the muck of people to keep her from getting overwhelmed.

“I think there might be something just special there. In all of her babysitting and nannying years, can’t say she’s had as much fun as she did with Sarah.”

“Guess I should thank you for volunteering her that first summer. Probably the best recommendation I’ve gotten from a neighbor,” Joel laughs to himself, shaking his head subtly as he thinks of all the time you two have had together over the years.

“Thank me later, how about that? End of this summer, you can thank me for getting her to do what she was too chicken to do,” your mom laughs quietly, “Talking to the new neighbor and getting a job.”

“Uh, yeah, alright.” Your mom shares a smile with Joel before walking off to chat to some friends, leaving Joel to wonder what she meant by that exactly.

Back onto the boat after dinner with the larger party, your family and the Millers caravanned into the middle of the lake with a bunch of other boaters, dropping anchor in the cluster.

There is a platform in the middle of the lake, installed there with taut chains to the bottom where the same family lights off an impressive fireworks display every year. Helping your mom hand around the last bit of drink and some cookies for dessert, you finally are able to snag a spot by Sarah and Joel on the other side of her. Once you get settled, Sarah looks over at you with her sun-kissed face and big brown eyes just like her dad’s. Wordlessly, she scoots closer to you before deciding to simply climb onto your lap, you accepting her company with open arms.

“You comfy?” you wrap your arms around to hug her to your chest and keep her on your thighs, smiling as she nods with a quiet yawn. Her head leans back on your shoulder, one of your hands coming up to run your fingers through her curls.

Joel slides over a few inches, a hand’s width away from you, relaxing with you close by. The sight of Sarah so comfortable with you, and you her, brings back those butterfly wings stronger than before. What he would give to be able to put his arm around you and give you a kiss — to have his little unit of three together.

Damn, maybe he should have said something to your parents…

No, no. This was the smart choice. It’s the smart choice to keep it this way around them until things are certain. He’s all in for you, but there is still a small whispering of doubt that he feels every once in a while.

Are you going to resent him at any point? Will you want to leave again at the end of summer, to leave him behind and continue your life somewhere else? He knows you care about him, he knows how much you care about Sarah. But does he rely too much on you? Is it too much to sign up to be with him and also sign up to have a daughter along with it all?

Every time he thinks about telling your family, all he can imagine is the worst scenario. Disowning, no contact, moving. Joel’s insecurities fester in these imaginings, finding out how to make every new thought worse than the last.

It’s not fair to you, he knows that. But he needs time. Time to find the right words, to make the right promises.

A small, pathetic pop of a firecracker grabs everyone’s attention, the fizzle of the main display filling the air. Sarah sits up in your lap, eyes turned up along with yours as the fireworks start to go, drowning out whatever you’re saying to her as you point and smile widely. The reflection of the lights dissipates in your eyes each time, short explosions fading out to the night sky again.

Joel seems to be the only one with his gaze turned away from the opening in the clouds, a thought flashing into his head like one of the fireworks before he acts on it. Fingers brush your hip, catching on the open-knit and your head turns to face him, the same smile you had with Sarah still on your face. He leans in behind her head, his nose brushes against yours before he kisses you — soft and delicate and not nearly enough for what he needs in the moment but it satiates something for him.

You’re smiling against his lips, stealing one last quick peck before pulling back, the same wide grin from before spread across your cheeks as you whisper to him.

“Naughty.”

“Yeah, well, you’re to blame for it with the teasing all day. Better be coming over tonight after all of that,” Joel responds back, the noise drowned to everyone else on the boat by the repeated launches of large fireworks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, J. I thought I was being peaceful and relaxed all day.”

At that you turn your head up again, listening to Sarah as she talks about the bursting lights and starts pointing at all of the cool moments again. Joel continues to watch you fall back into the moment with her, he content with being an observer — and for giving you a tiny token of all that he’s been feeling today.

But damn is he eager to get you alone.

It was a long while to get home and get everything unpacked from the car and into the garage, but you’ve finally managed to shower and change; behind you, you slowly pull the sliding glass door closed to your basement studio, wandering across your backyard and into Joel’s to his backdoor.

Knocking lightly, it isn’t long before the door opens, and Joel’s hands find your waist to tug you inside, tripping over your feet across the threshold.

“Hey, J—” Your words are cut off by his lips on yours, a heavy kiss enveloping your breath while your hands search across his arms and up to his chest. Returning his kiss gives more energy behind his movements, fingers digging into your hips and directing you backward until your lower back hits the edge of the kitchen counter. There’s a split second that he pulls away to help you up onto the surface, his large frame leaning in again to catch your lips with his.

Pressure at his chest from your palms keeps him a few inches away from your face, eyes meeting his as your breaths recover shallowly.

“What a greeting,” you laugh, voice hoarse as you keep your volume low.

“Missed bein’ able to kiss you, Mari. Holdin’ you. And you were such a fucking tease all day, darlin’,” he rasps out, brow creased as he holds your gaze.

“Was not.”

“Was too, Mari.” Joel slips his hands into the bend of your legs, spreading them apart to step between them. He pulls you further to the edge pressing his bulge into your thigh as he sighs, letting his breath fan over your face, “Feel what you do to me, pretty girl? Been wanting you all day. Need you so bad, Mariposa.”

Your own sigh matches his, eyes closing for a moment as he starts to grind against your clothed center, stuttering out a response, “Cou—Could’ve touched me today. Maybe we should’ve snuck off at the barbecue…”

Both of you chuckle, Joel’s much darker than yours, “Don’t tell me that now, baby. You’ve got no idea what I would’ve done to you if we had a second alone.”

“We’re alone now. Show me what you would’ve done.”

“Yeah? You wanna know?” His parted mouth trails warm breath against your skin, his nose ghosting against your cheek before he presses kisses into your jawline.

“Please, J,” you whine, mouth right against his ear as he leans over to kiss your neck. One hand tangles into the curls at the nape of his neck, damp from the shower that you can smell on him — the sandalwood musk scent of his body wash. A deep breath of the scent races your heart along with his wandering hands, him standing fully in front of you again.

“Gonna have to be quiet, baby. Have a full house tonight. Silent, got it?”

All you do is nod in response, holding his head as you close the gap between you two with fervor. Joel rumbles out a moan into your mouth, tugging you close and off the counter, his impatience reeling after the day.

Fumbling around with cheeky grabs and gropes over each other, you get turned to face the counter and Joel’s hands hook into your waistband — sleep short and panties — to tug them down just enough to drop them down your legs and let you step one foot out. He pulls himself free from his shorts and boxers, a handful of your ass in his palm as he quietly moans to himself. One swipe of his fingers through your folds tells him exactly how much you want him, devilish smirk crossing his face.

“Felt like this the whole day, pretty girl? Must’ve been so needy, Mari. Don’t worry, I’ve got you now. Déjame cuidarte, cariño. Déjame sentirte. (Let me take care of you, darling. Let me feel you.)”

“Please, please, J—“

“Shh. S’alright, sweet Mari. Think you can take me, want to take my cock like the good girl you are?” He questions you in a raspy whisper, taking himself in one hand and guiding the head of his cock through your wetness.

“Fuck…” you draw out quietly, nodding quickly as you look over your shoulder at him, “I can take it, please give it to me.”

“Pretty girl jus’ begging for me, yeah? Got to be quiet,” Joel reminds you before he lines himself up, slowly opening you up with his cock. The stretch is painful at first, whimpers echoing in your closed mouth while you grip the counter’s edge and bite the inside of your cheek.

With slow, shallow thrusts at first, Joel works you to relax around him, nodding to himself when he sees your shoulder relax and your head fall forward out of pleasure when he starts to pick up the pace behind you.

“That’s it, baby, such a good girl. Mi buena chica. Sabes cómo tomarlo, Mari. (My good girl. You know how to take it.)”

A moan slips from your lips and cuts through the relative silence, your head snapping over your shoulder to Joel. He shakes his head, sliding one hand up your side to hold around your mouth, covering up any more noises and giving him leverage to arch your back for him as he fucks you harder.

“Shit, pretty girl, not gonna last—Fuck, muy apretado y mojado. (Fuck, so tight and wet.)” You nod behind Joel’s hand, gripping his wrist when his free hand reaches for your clit, rubbing hurried circles that push you to the edge further, teetering there while his hips hit into you harder and brush your g-spot. Feeling yourself clench around his cock, you move your own hips to meet his thrusts, eyes rolling back as the top of him hits your g-spot square on.

“That’s right, my girl, can feel how close you are. Give it to me, baby, please—“ A vibrating moan interrupts his rambling thoughts when you come, walls gripping around him and fluttering inside. Your own noises are stifled by his palm, body limping in his hold while he rocks his hips as deep as possible and ropes of his come fill you up. “Such a good girl, goddamn…”

Breathless, he holds you up and presses you against the counter as he hunches over your body from behind. Using whatever energy is left in him, Joel peppers your neck and profile in lazy kisses, lingering around your ear.

“Love you, Mari.”

Once you’ve both recovered enough from the quick, hasty fuck, limbs regaining their abilities to move, Joel leads you up to bed and drags you under the covers. The two of you chat about the day and plans for the rest of summer while he lays his head on your chest, eyes closing while you run your fingers through his hair. Index twirls some of the rare ringlets, nails scratching his scalp soothingly.

In a few moments of you talking to him about bringing Sarah to the aquarium, his breaths have leveled out and his lips have parted, a large muscular build curled around you sleeping. It’s a few moments that you steal while continuing to play with his hair, admiring how young and boyish he looks. The perpetually creased brow of his has relaxed, his parted lips giving him the slightest of pouts.

Joel, your strong, independent, capable, protective, caring, loving man, is still a boy at times. When you feel young around him, you know you’ll think back to this moment — when you realized he’s just as much in the ‘figuring how all this shit works out’ stage. Permanently.

The last two or so years have been filled with moments that it seems that you took what Joel had to think or say as written in stone; his confidence and decisiveness was something you were envious of at times. But it also meant that all those times, even if he knew what he was doing, he was still a young boy, a teenager, a man, all the ones in between — figuring it out. Wondering if the choices were right. If it would all work out in the end.

That first summer, when you fell completely in love and let him know before you were leaving for nearly a year. It was genuine, of course, but it was naive. Thinking about long distance, a single father trying to make that work. It probably scared him at the time, and was too much to attempt to work with.

And the next summer, when he had his time to figure out what he was feeling. His confession of love that had your heart in your throat, terrified to admit anything close to the feeling before you were thousands of miles away. The feeling was there, it was always there. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it back, to open up for the pain you felt the year prior.

His denial of you, yours of him — looking back, you can’t blame Joel for these hiccups, just like you can’t blame yourself. He was only trying to figure it out. It was all new to him, navigating a life with you in it was something he hadn’t had to do before, hadn’t imagined before.

You’re in the exact same state, each and every day. And it made you so afraid to be all in, the uncertainty of life blinding you to actually opening up.

Fingers have paused their movements in his hair, Joel stirring awake against your chest when your touch leaves him completely. His head is tilted to face you, masked in an expression that you can’t quite read. Comfortable, drowsy, affectionate. Half asleep, droopy eyes find your own, holding your gaze as he breaks the quiet and stillness of the bedroom with a gravelly voice.

“Was thinking about you in my sleep just now.”

“Oh yeah? What were you thinking about, baby?”

“How you’re my best friend.” The arm slung around your middle tightens as a goofy smile finds its way to his lips. “D’you know that, Mari?”

Looking at him, in that simple moment, a realization dawned on you as if it was the most obvious discovery.

He’s the only one you want to be figuring it out with.

“I love you, Joel.”

It comes out meeker than you wanted for this first-second time around, almost inaudible if it weren’t for the complete and utter quiet of the early morning hours.

A dreamy but wide grin stretches across his face, waking him up a bit more in the moment. He picks up his head from your chest, sitting up a few inches to look you properly in the eyes as he asks, “Yeah?”

“Mhm, I love you,” you can barely get it out without a happy giggle tagging on the end, barely squeaking the last syllable out before Joel’s skittering kisses all over your face, that same wide grin on his lips.

“Say it again, please, Mari.”

“I love you, J. I’m so in love with you.”

His attack on your face and neck continues, his own chuckles mixing with your giggles, his arm tightening around you and fingers tickling your sides.

“Am I still asleep? Am I dreaming right now?” he questions, pausing his peppered kisses to give you a tender one on your lips, that same goofy grin knocking your teeth together.

Before you respond, or he asks for you to say it again, Joel takes a pause to look into your eyes head on. Silence overcomes the room again, goofy grin morphing into a sweet, softened smile of his. Disbelief painted across his face as he took you in, shaking his head.

“Te amo, mi Mariposa. Siempre. I love you, Mari. Always.”

“I love you, Joel.”

Holding your eyes for a moment longer, there’s a shift in the air from the giddy confession. Joel inches down, connecting your lips in a ghosting kiss, your lips following his to feel more. After a beat, the kiss heats up, slow and sensual. His hands roam your sides, hiking up the material of your sleep shirt and pressing his palm against your exposed skin.

There’s no break in the embrace, only pushing further to feel each other closer and constant. The slight lack of oxygen, the breathlessness of it all, is making your head airy and dizzy, limbs tingling with electricity when you slip your fingers under the collar of his t-shirt. In the moment, you could drown in the feeling of Joel’s lips against yours.

The only breaths you get are when he separates from your lips to pull your shirt over your head and then follows it with his own, easily sipping your elastic waistbands down your legs again. You kick off the material from your ankles while he strips out of his own shorts and boxers, messy kisses shared while your hands skate over his bare skin. Fingertips work to memorize the dips and peaks, the trail of hair from his belly button down. Joel’s own hands explore your curves, relishing in the softness of your skin.

He pulls away from your mouth, breathless and blown pupils before he rasps out, “I love you so much, Mariposa. Got no clue who I’d be if I didn’t meet you…You’re it for me.”

Your voice is thick with emotion, one hand tangling your fingers with the hair at the back of his head, “I love you, J. It’s only you, s’always been you.”

Joel’s hand lifts one of your legs to bend next to his hip, lining himself at your entrance before he slowly thrusts in, savoring the feeling of you around him, body pressed against his skin in every place possible. Airy moans muffle into and against each other’s lips as he fills you up, the rhythm of his movements languid and steady. The pace is reeling your brain into a building of pleasure, whispers from Joel adding to the euphoric adoration between the two of you.

“My beautiful girl, so perfect. Love everything about you, sweet girl. M’so lucky to have you…Mine forever, right Mari baby? Mi hermosa, mi amor. I love you, fuck, I love you so much, Mari. Always got me feeling like m’floating around you, like I got a butterfly flapping it’s wings in my chest with how giddy you make me feel with just one look. Mi mariposa. My butterfly. Mine…”

The words are absorbing with each shallow breath you take, nodding along to his ramblings and feeling tears well against your waterline. Hands grip hard onto his shoulders, folding yourself around him tighter as you leave lingering kisses along his profile.

“Yours, J, yours always. I love you so fucking much—Oh my god, you’re everything to me, baby.”

“Never letting you go again. My girl, my fucking beautiful girl. Gonna make you mine forever, gonna make you my wife, mi esposa, one day, sweet, perfect girl. You’re made for me, Mari. Mi media naranja. (My other half.)”

His thrusts pick up only slightly, but enough to spill the tears waiting at the brink of your eyes, Joel’s mouth catching each one with featherlight kisses. Sitting right at the edge, your eyes lock with his, vision slightly blurred from the tears continuing to fall. Joel’s features fill the vignette, hooked nose, pillowy lips, soft brown eyes, olive skin sprinkled with crinkles around his eyes, subtle lines at his forehead. Nothing more beautiful to you than those parts making up the whole of him.

“Te amo, te amo, J. I love you, baby…”

His breath catches in his throat, smile spreading as his nose nudges against yours to speak against your lips.

“Te amo, mi Mariposa. Los amo a todos, cada poco. Eres todo lo que podría haber soñado y más (I love all of you, every bit. You're everything I could have ever dreamed of and more). I will spend every day earning your love and giving you all of mine.”

The words you understood have your frayed edges pulled taut, snapping one at a time as your brain floods with pleasure. Your walls flutter around his cock, your leg hooks into his ass to drive him further inside to fill you up. It is only a moment longer before he’s spilling into you, your name falling from his lips over and over as he searches for your lips in his state of ecstasy.

One last heavy kiss is shared before he slumps onto you, similar position to the start of all this; his head on your chest, strong form curled around you and his eyes closed. It last for a moment, your fingers playing with his hair, before he’s pushing himself up to hang over your torso, tender eyes studying your messy hair and blissed out face.

A smile crosses your lips, eyes sparkling even with the lights out in the room and the curtains only cracked apart to let moonlight stream in.

“Gonna make me your wife one day, huh?” you tease as you look up at him from your spot laying back on the mattress, crumpled sheet pulled over top of your naked body.

Joel rolls his eyes playfully, leaning over you and smiling, “As if you didn’t know that from the first time I spoke to you. Knew you were trouble from the start, just turned out to be the best kind of trouble.”

taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @sw33tp1xie @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras@bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @angie2274 @pedrostories @pedroholicx @theelishad @johnwatsn @elissaaa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain @northernbluess @cannolighost @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @brittmb115 @anoverwhelmingdin @spishsstuff @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @harriedandharassed @decemberdolly @laiisleitte @fierce-bab @vickie5446 @tbniarq @vee-bees-blog @thereaperisabitch @spidermanfrog @belliezz @joelsflannel @cartoon-garbage04 @bianqueee04 @nostalxgic @xyzstar @cumberpegg

[arthistoryanimalia]

Norval Morrisseau (Bingwi Neyaashi Anishinaabek First Nation, 1931-2007)

Bear Father, Bear Son, 1989

Acrylic on canvas, 121.9 × 91.4 cm (48 × 36 in.)

on display at Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

https://collections.mfa.org/objects/696834/bear-father-bear-son

“Morrisseau once described this painting as ‘Bear Gives Knowledge to Man. Man Gives Knowledge to Son,’ pointing to themes of kinship, teaching, and transformation. Against a symmetrical, yellow background, curved blue lines weave together humans, animals, insects, and orbs. Bodies filled with blocks of color slip into each other, obscuring where one figure begins and the other ends. The bear, related to Anishinaabe cosmologies and family organizational structures, has wide eyes, pointed teeth, and a strong back that supports the other beings. Bears were significant to Morrisseau, having personal connections with them through religious experiences while growing up at Sand Point reserve near Lake Nipigon, Ontario.

Now recognized as the most influential First Nations artist to work in traditional Western painting, Morrisseau invented a style, visualizing Anishinaabe histories and powers of the natural world. His flowing black outlines, swelling circular forms, and vibrant colors have inspired generations of artists.”

[lovedrunkheadcanons]

Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Fic) Read on AO3

RATED M: WARNINGS: smut, blowjob, wife giving, husband receiving, arranged marriage, yada, yada, yada...

Before the Warring States and Tokugawa shogunate, archeologists estimated there were once 30,000 palaces and fortresses scattered throughout Japan. When Tokugawa Ieyasu’s power waned and the Meiji era rose to prominence, that figure dwindled to a gapping 200. And by the dawn of the 20th century, combined with the wake of World War II, and the quick, sudden death of the Japanese aristocracy, the loss of palatial infrastructure was so great that some palaces were either voluntarily dismantled or left for scrap.

The Cultural Property Preservation Law, thus upending the Kokuhō Hozon-hō of 1929, currently recognized 62 castle gates and 61 turrets across 27 estates as being Jūyō Bunkazai (重要文化財) or “Important Cultural Properties.” Of those 27 estates, seven “original” palaces held the designation, with five additional palaces bestowed the higher designation of “National Treasure.”

Like her seven proud sisters, Hirosaki Castle was one of the palaces designated an Important Cultural Property, and the most well-preserved castle in northern Japan. In the 400 years since her construction under the Tsugaru clan, she’d housed many a samurai and seen much of war. The beating heart of Hirosaki City, her plastered white walls, curved tiled roofs, and earthen ramparts had survived a devastating fire in 1627 from the likes of a lightning bolt striking the central tower, and was reduced from having a five level Tenshu to three come 1810. Her domain spanned across 124 acres and included a bailey containing five original yaguramon (tower gates), three towers, and a guardhouse, each with their own name and classification, which was now accessible to the public as a national park and museum. And, as with all major palaces, a large lake garden (originally moats) circumfretted the estate in Japanese maple and ginkgo and other local fauna.

None was this garden’s beauty more appreciated than in autumn, when late October favored the occasion for Hirosaki Castle’s Annual Chrysanthemum and Autumn Foliage Festival.

Hannah was ecstatic.

Their weekend trip to Hirosaki Castle would mark her very first festival. Satoru planned to take her during Obon - as its festivals were quite popular - but work got in the way and he’d been forced to depart on a last-minute mission, to his great reluctance. He figured it was time for a change in scenery, and the suffusion of chrysanthemums and flower decor was sure to suit Hannah’s fancy.

To his pure delight, she’d been buzzing in her seat the entire train ride. The journey from Tokyo to Hirosaki City took almost five hours by train, but granted onlookers the opportunity to capture Japan’s natural beauty. As a small gift, Satoru had bought Hannah a brand new Nikon camera, which she quickly put to use. Every few minutes or so, he’d sneak her snapping a picture of the passing autumnal mountainscape, tongue sticking out as she focused the lens, her hazel eyes wide and innocently transfixed. “Pretty,” he’d hear her whisper. The sight made his chest ease and his tummy flutter. This was what love felt like. Ugh, adorable.

The cute pink puffer jacket she wore and pom-pom hat shaped like a polar bear made her all the more adorable. The weather was forecasted to be quite cold. He had stuffed her mittens inside his coat pockets in case she needed them.

“Say cheese,” she sang, facing the camera towards him.

Satoru was in the middle of slurping a hot cocoa, he hadn’t had time to wipe his face before the Nikon went “click.”

Hannah couldn’t contain her giggle as she sat back down and showed him the result, gushing. Satoru leaned over her shoulder.

Yup, she got him good. The photo caught the Six Eyes wielder completely off guard, a blinking look of surprise marring his face, strewn with a mustache of whipped cream atop his upper lip. His oval sunglasses were sliding off his nose.

“Gotcha,” she gloated.

Satoru scoffed and playfully rolled his eyes. “You just got lucky,” and hurriedly swiped the cream off his lips.

Hannah beamed him a winning smile and giggled again, her freckled cheeks rosy as could be. She was really pretty when she smiled. It gave Satoru an idea.

“Hey, I got a better one for ya.” He dished out his phone and waved his finger. “C’mere.”

Hannah tilted her head, curious at what he was planning, but scooted on closer. Satoru took off his sunglasses and folded them in his lap. Protectively, she felt his arm drape over her shoulders, embracing her to him. Comfortable with their position, he then angled the phone in front of them and switched the camera to “selfie mode.” He sweetly rested his chin atop her head, smelling the lavender in her shampoo.

“Smile.”

Realizing now what he was up to, Hannah cuddled into him and smiled up at the camera.

His thumb tapped the button.

Wedded bliss frozen in time. The selfie had been their first taken as husband and wife. Their very first picture, on their way to Hannah’s very first autumn festival. Memories they’d look back on when they were old and grey, when life would become tough and the world a mess. But this. This was theirs to keep forever. A happiness no tragedy or disaster could upend. A marriage. A family.

“Not bad,” Satoru hummed.

“Yeah,” agreed Hannah, marveling at the Six Eyes, so nacreous and blue. Couldn’t replicate that color even if you tried. “We should have it framed when we get home. It can go on your nightstand.”

“Yeah.” This received her a loving peck on the cheek. “I’d like that. Good thinking. And Hannah?”

“Mmm?” she peered up at him.

He winked, showing her his camera screen again, this time with a picture of him having just kissed her cheek.

“Gotcha.”

One of the five go-sekku, Chrysanthemums festivals were first introduced to Japan via China, who venerated the autumn flower for its timeless beauty and medicinal properties. It was believed steeping the petals in a hot tea could elongate one's life and cure aches and pains. For that reason, it was popular for palaces and Buddhist shrines to plant mums in gardens. The Imperial Seal of Japan, stamped on every passport and royal document, also bore the bloom as its emblem, and many poets and artists used the herbaceous flora for inspiration. Some restaurants even utilized the petals as a garnish when serving sashimi.

Hannah knew mums belonged to the Asteraceae family, placing them in the same grouping as daisies, dahlias, and zinnias. In fact, a lesser known name for a chrysanthemum was a “florist’s daisy.” They came in a variety of cultivars and colours; mostly reds, yellows, and purples, some with long, spider-like petals that stretched outwards like sea anemones, others more compact with tightly-round layers reminiscent of doll faces. Cheerey as could be.

The Hirosaki Castle gardens were rife with them, exhibiting a magnanimous array of species and shapes. Atsumono. Kudamono. Ichimonji. Every variant one could think of. Hannah took her time admiring the flower beds, zooming her camera to capture the perfect photo.

They departed for Hirosaki Castle immediately after checking into their inn. Satoru didn’t want a place too far and optioned for a location within walking distance; a ryokan owned by a kind elderly couple 15 mins from the castle. They took their key, dropped their bags, and arrived at the castle by early afternoon, more than enough time to enjoy the festival and eat lunch.

“A lot of people here today,” Hannah commented when they crossed the palace gates. She was right. There were a lot of people, but Satoru said it only elevated the experience. The more the merrier.

At least, that’s what he told her. In truth, this was no time to slack off. Hannah has to stay with you at all times, rang Nanami’s voice. The Six Eyes wielder scanned the area for any potential adversaries. It already bothered him that a pair of perverted young men, who were clearly from the countryside and had never seen a foreigner before, were taking random snapshots of his wife without her knowledge. He’d issued them the most menacing glare. Get lost. The tourists would catch the flash of his eyes and immediately hightail it in the other direction. That’s right, dweebs, keep your dicks in your pants. She’s mine.

They toured the rows of chrysanthemum gardens. Horticulturists had weaved storytelling into that year’s displays. Lifesize dolls, covered head to toe in real flowers, brought to life many of the folktales passed down by tradition, including historic figures like Lord Tsuguru walking amongst the flowers, he too partaking in the festivities like his subjects, katana strapped to his waist.

The most striking red maples Satoru had ever seen cloaked the surrounding forest in fire, made more intense by the brightness of the autumn sun. At night, spotlights would illuminate the maples, so only the scarlet leaves were visible amongst the shadows, making the viewing more memorable for garden enthusiasts. They’d be sure to return come sunset to see for themselves.

For a low admission fee, Hirosaki Castle could be seen up close and toured on the inside. Except, upon arriving, the size of the castle bore little semblance to what they imagined.

“It’s so tiny,” Hannah squealed, pretending to squish the castle between her fingers. “How cute.”

“Kind of a let down,” Satoru muttered. He had yet to see the castle in person until now.

Hannah took his hand. “I wanna go in, c’mon.”

This was easier said than done. Standing 6’3 had its drawbacks. The door leading inside the castle was so squat and narrow, Satoru had to bow half-way to fit through, while his wife sauntered in like it was made for her. The castle’s interior was nothing special (in his opinion), just a gift shop and a video detailing the current renovations plans. However, there was an alarmingly steep flight of stairs with a red warning sign nailed to the wall. Satoru was close to having a mini heart attack, watching his wife hobble up the creaking wooden boards. He kept a ready hand on her bum, following close behind. The way down was more perilous, him holding onto her hand afraid she’d slip and roll an ankle. By the time they’d finished roaming the small castle, Satoru felt he had a permanent crick in his back.

The boat ride was much more relaxing. He and Hannah boarded a little isobune, oarred by a retired fisherman, who glided them around the moat. The cascade of falling orange and gold leaves landing atop the water was breathtaking as they passed under a red bridge, and the unshaded sun felt good on their faces, despite the chilly weather. Hannah rested her head along Satoru’s arm and closed her eyes, listening to the water churn against the oar and a lark singing in the distance. The world at peace.

They ate rice balls and fish sticks and caramelized apples from a vendor parked along the garden path. Then finished their day with scouting the nursery where visitors could buy bushels of chrysanthemums and ornate bonsai. Hannah was tempted, but thought the chrysanthemums they had back home were better.

At last, the sun dipped behind the northern mountains. The Gojo couple stuck around to take pictures of the illuminated maple trees. The pathway had become so dark. It was difficult to see anything other than the red and gold leaves. The rest was pitch black.

“Oh, Satoru. Look at these.” Hannah raced towards a group of maples she’d spotted.

There was a rustling noise. Unsettling laughter.

“You could do it, Satoru…The impossible.”

Satoru hurriedly whipped around.

“Even that has meaning…”

But saw nothing. No one was there. The wind. Perhaps it was the wind. Yes, it was only the wind.

“Satoru?” Hannah called concernedly from ahead.

Deep breaths, Satoru. He was hearing things. It was all in his head. The Six Eyes would’ve seen him.

“Yeah, coming, sweetheart.”

That night they laid together in bed, skin to skin. It was smart of them to eat when they did. Most restaurants were closed by the time they arrived back at their ryokan. Hannah was busy massaging his hands, running her little fingers over the minuscule scars and toughened calluses, relieving the tension in his joints. Felt good.

“Have you always liked being a giant?” she mused, halting her massage to splay her palm over his, not even half its size.

He grinned at her hyperbole, giving off a meager shrug. “There’s advantages, I guess. Makes me faster, stronger, but it also attracts unwanted attention. I can’t hide for shit.”

“True,” Hannah stipulated. “You do tend to stand out in a crowd.”

“Mmhm.” He absentmindedly began twisting the gold wedding band on her finger. Part of him contemplated whether buying her a diamond ring to go with it. Like they do in the movies.

“But I’d say you wear it rather well.”

He stopped twisting and huffed tiredly. “Not much choice in that regard. For me, it’s either fear the spotlight or embrace it. There's really no third option.”

Hannah planted a reassuring kiss on his chest near his heart.

“What about you?” he countered. “How have you liked being a mouse?”

She took slight umbridge at that. “I’m not a mouse.”

“Fine, a very cute mouse.”

She swatted him lightly before returning her head to his chest. “I suppose it has its upsides.” Her voice held a somber note as she traced his pectorals.”I can fade into the background whenever I want. No one cares if I’m here or there…”

He sensed she hadn’t finished. “But?”

“But that’s just it. No one cares what happens to a nobody.”

He brought the dainty hand tracing his muscles to his lips, kissing its knuckles.

“Try convincing me of that.”

Hannah smiled, thinking he was too good to be true and any moment she’d wake up from this dream. After so many years living a barely-there existence, this sense of belonging, of being wanted, was more than her prayers could answer. What a blessing to have this man in her life, despite the political circumstances surrounding their union. He deserved everything for making her this happy. She would gladly give what little she had, be it words or her body.

A titillating warmth pooled inside her stomach, spreading between her thighs, desirous and hungry, not quite satiated by their earlier round of sex. Propping herself on her elbows, her lips sought the company of his own. He welcomed them greedily, tongue slipping inside her mouth to lean in deeper for a taste. A languid moan hovered on the edge of her throat as she rolled her body on top of him, begging to be nearer, closer.

Satoru’s hands cupped her ass, kneading the soft flesh like mounds of dough. He too stifled a groan as her lips broke away and began trailing hot, steamy kisses down his neck, sucking and licking his collarbone. The hands cupping her bare ass squeezed harder as she worked her way towards his nipple, giving it a few teasing flicks. She lowered her hands, letting them run over the contour of his abs, down, down, down. He felt the jolt of electricity percolate through his spine to the very tip of his penis, pulsing incessantly.

Damn, she was learning fast, he thought, having recently confessed his secret like for nippie action. He reckoned he was rock solid now.

“Saaa~tor~uuuu,” she sang.

Holy fuck, and that voice. She could trick him into committing mass murder with that angel-sweet voice. The sway it had over him. Seemed like only yesterday she was standing in her wedding kimono, stuttering, too nervous to make eye contact till he forcibly grabbed her chin. Her confidence had since skyrocketed. For lack of a better analogy, she was playing him like a finely-tuned fiddle and he was powerless to fight her.

“Hannah,” he moaned, once her hand reached under to cup his balls. He surrendered a sharp gasp. She weighed them in her palm, gyrating them slowly just as he instructed her, careful not to hurt him.

“Yes, darling?” Her other hand reached over to grip the hard length of his cock, pressing loving circles into the base with her thumb. Then, gentle as a lamb, pulling it downwards, unfurling the delicate foreskin to reveal the slick head underneath.

For fuck’s sake.

“Is this alright, love?” she purred amorously. “Do you want me to stop?”

Only then did he realize he was short of breath.

“No,” he panted. “Never.”

Hannah held a serene, sated look on her face, not the kind born of selfish lust or sheer dominance, but of total adoration. “Okay then.” She pecked him on the lips for good luck and joined her thumb and index together just as he taught her, hovering them inches above his erection. “Ready?”

He gulped once and gave a swift nod. The hand came down.

His moans were immutable by that point, though, frankly, he didn’t give a shit. Because each second of his wife’s goddess-like touch, her magic fingers stroking his cock up and down, brought him closer to heaven.

“I know you’ve been stressed lately,” she soothed between strokes. “Just tell me when, darling.”

Boy, wasn’t that the truth. The threat of Suguru’s reemergence placed everyone on alert. The higher-ups were relentless in their tyranny, working Satoru to the bone. He’d been dispatched on three high-level missions last week spanning across the country, when all he wanted to do was sleep, eat mochi ice cream, and make hot love to his wife. On the surface he made it look easy, but on the inside he longed for a break.

That’s what he loved most about Hannah. She always knew. He didn’t have to lie and don the mask.

Her strokes grew faster.

For a brief moment, Satoru thought his soul tore in two. He was barely conscious of his surroundings. Planet Earth? Where’s that? All that remained was his wife’s melodic voice and the orgasm preparing to take over and exit his body. He felt the tension surmount in his groin, jizz funneling up his balls, waiting for its queue to shoot. His breathing quickened, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring.

Knowing he was close, Hannah sat up criss-cross on the bed and scooted herself in, wrapping his long legs around her waist to hold him steady, giving him perfect view of her breasts. Finding the position more comfortable, she continued stroking his cock in her lap like a clay potter, hands working and wringing him in. He couldn’t speak, or think straight. Soon his hips started to buck on their own accord.

“That's it, Satoru. Easy now.”

She didn’t have to do anything except keep her hands still. Nature would take care of the rest, the receptors in his brain telling his spine to “giddy up.”

His thrusts began to readily excelerate, going faster in conjunction with the volition of his climax, the back-and-forth friction causing Hannah’s hand to grow shockingly hot. She caught the sheen of sweat on his skin, the darkness of his cock. He grunted hard with each snap of his pelvis.

At once, his thrusts slowed, and then on the count of three, his hips jilted upwards for a grand finish.

He bellowed out her name as the orgasm tore through him, streams of thick jissom gushing over his stomach in quick bursts. Hannah continued pumping, squeezing out as much as she could, relishing the triumph of his release soiling her bare hands, keeping him going until he’d run on empty.

Considering how much they’d been making love, she was surprised he lasted as long as he did.

Hannah’s pumping lessened as his breathing gradually returned to normal, his senses coming to.

“Stay put,” she hushed, granting him a celebratory kiss. “I’ll go fetch you a towel.”

“Uh huh,” he groused, every muscle in his legs and groin feeling tingky and loose, brain lost in a fog. His tongue was like lead. He could barely form a sentence.

Brushing a stray lock of white hair from his face, Hannah left to go find him a clean towel.

Weakly, Satoru managed to glance down at the mess he had made on his thighs and stomach. He released a winded sigh as his head hit the pillow, then broke into a rich, hearty laugh. And to think this was now his new normal.

“Yare, yare.”

The couple decided to explore more of the city the next day. Satoru knew all the best spots in town, having frequented Hirosaki on countless missions. The city was small, a population of 180,000 or less, but held rich history regarding samurai and the Fujita family, making it notorious for curse incidents. Satoru couldn’t begin to recall how many strangers would come across a random cursed object; a sword, or an arrow head, stupidly get the idea to touch it, then wind up dead on the road somewhere for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Always sucked when the victims were children.

Anyway, no need to relive those memories. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts...

Hannah wanted to visit another garden - cause of course she did - and peruse the local shops. Great.

But first, breakfast.

Satoru discovered Cafe Buruman three summers ago while on the hunt for some shaved ice. He didn’t find the ice (sadly), but did sample a delicious raspberry tartlet and a frappuccino. And it was located right next to their ryokan, which may have not been accidental.

The cafe had a traditional charm to it, evident by its cypress furnishings and a rare selection of Okura Pottery bowls shelved behind the bar counter. Stored inside glass cabinets were other fine china pieces, some of which were available for purchase. Classical music played elegantly in the background. Hannah was smitten the moment they entered the door.

They placed their orders; Hannah, a fruit parfait and peach tea; Satoru, a chocolate tartlet and white mocha latte, and picked a table over by the window.

“I received an invitation the other day,” Hannah said once they were seated and their food arrived.

Satoru picked up his spoon. “Oh? From who?”

“Lady Kamo Hatsumomo.”

The spoonful of tartlet, having just reached his mouth, nearly rolled off his tongue in disgust.

Hannah took it as a bad sign. “I’m guessing you don’t like her?”

“Like her?” he said, chewing his tartlet. “The woman’s a psycho. I know her as the eldest sister of Lord Kamo. She thinks the jujutsu world’s main purpose in life is to uphold its most antediluvian precepts.”

“Antediluvian.” Hannah brightened. “There’s your word of the day.”

Satoru smirked. “I have my moments. The point is, she despises anyone who doesn’t conform to her narrow set of beliefs.”

“And me being a foreigner probably doesn’t help,” Hannah suspected.

Her husband frowned. “I doubt it.”

“Why would she invite me to her house then?”

Satoru too wondered this. On the one hand, it made perfect sense to invite Hannah as she was his wife and therefore carried great influence, but even so. Hatsumomo was no friend to non-sorcerers, especially when it came to foreigners. He remembered Ichiro’s banishment from the family for marrying Kumari.

But unable to find a satisfactory answer as to why, he reached across the table. “Remember, you don’t have to accept," and took Hannah’s hand. “It’s your call.”

Hannah sighed and stared down at their hands. “We’ll see."

That was good enough for Satoru. The Six Eyes wielder went back to sipping his latte then looked over, staring out through the glass window. His best friend stood on the sidewalk, waving candidly at him, same long jet-black hair, black shirt, black sweatpants...

Wait, what now?

Satoru squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, opening them back up to see an empty street.

Just his mind playing dirty tricks again.

“Everything alright?” Hannah’s eyes were slightly tainted with worry.

“I’m fine,” Satoru replied, offering her a curt smile, running his thumb over her knuckles.

It was all in his head. Nothing more.

Yup, he was perfectly fine.

Chapter Contents

[ratsoh-writes]

Hey y’all! Say hello to

Ebott~

Or at least the first wip of the ebott map! I have all the main (above ground) locations so far!

For those who are wondering, dark brown is rocky hilly land/cliff sides, rusty brown is mountain ranges, khaki is grassland, green is forest, and light tan is beaches obviously lol. I don’t think I need to say what the blue areas represent.

I’ll add descriptions of each landmark below the next picture.

Alright starting from left to right:

Atlantis: home of the hadal monsters, the majority of this city is underwater, but some of it is accessible through the cliffs of bluefin island as well as floating buildings anchored to the shallower ocean around the island. The majority of Atlantis city houses its people in the curved section of the ocean trench by bluefin island. The buildings are carved into the rock.

Seashore: ebotts second largest beach town, seashore is a beautiful place where the majority of ebotts fishing trade takes place. It’s a popular vacation spot more for ebotts residents, but it does get some tourism too during holiday season.

Echo hills: the southernmost city of ebott, echo hills is a small city surrounded by grassy farmland. Due to the location, the place is raining more than not, and is perfect for crops that need lots of water! Echo hills is best known for its rice, producing just enough to sustain ebott.

Remembrance: located to the west on wells island, remembrance town houses one of the maintained entrances to the connected underground’s. It is also the point where the famine monsters were found and rescued. Here the royals placed the memorial of those left behind. Massive stone statues carved all over with the names of family who died underground or were left behind in the crash surround the caves entrance. A small town of monsters maintain the area, and some livestock are raised there as well.

The great dam: exactly what the name suggests, it’s just ebotts biggest dam. It’s part of the national forest so only a handful of maintenance workers and rangers actually live there. The dam is connected to waterfall lake.

The national forest entrance: this is the official way to see the national park, and access the maintained trails. Most of the park rangers live near here as well. There’s a small tourist trap too selling gift items, and farther up is a hunting lodge that opens during open season.

The Temple: located right in the middle of ebott, the actual temple building sits on top of three large mountains near kidney lake. The temple houses ebotts history and is a popular tourist spot. It also houses one of the maintained entrances to the underground, connected to some of the upper levels of waterfall.

NEW EBOTT: the largest city of ebott, and the capital of the county. New ebott has it all! The education, entertainment, shopping and jobs! And of course all the important big government buildings are here as well as most of the royals! New ebott is the only city connected to all the railroads and has the largest airport.

Rails Way: a city surrounding an important train stop, rails way is the in between rest stop between Portland and new ebott. Besides the trains passing through, it also is where trucks in ebott are made and fixed for the most part. There’s a few other factories in the city as well, like a few metal processing plants.

Metta Land: north to new ebott, this is basically a theme park, mega mall, and Hollywood all rolled into one spot. Metta land is so big that there’s even a few villages around it where its employees live. It also houses the only man/monster made entrance to the underground, going straight to hotland of course. What happens in metta land stays in metta land

Portland: this is the second biggest city of ebott located on the east. Almost all trade ships stop here. Portland is a bustling business city full of factories, and has a few houses of education too! It also houses most of ebotts navy and has the second largest airport.

Cape resort: located on the southern rocky cliffs, cape resort is in fact not a resort. It’s rocky, cold and generally horrible to live in if you’re not an aquatic monster lol. However it has an oil rig. Lots of hadal and sea monsters live there maintaining that oil rig.

New hope: new hope is a beautiful mountain town housing the entrance to snowdin, the largest entrance to the underground. It gets the largest amount of tourists year round and is a popular ski location during the winters as well. The parts of new hope that aren’t for tourists are mostly farmland or forests put aside for logging. Plenty of vineyards are in this area

Ridgeside factory: Ridgeside factory is ebotts main power plant and is directly connected to the core in hotland as well. It’s surrounded by a few villages too where more outdoorsy monsters live. Those who don’t work at the factory are either from hotland or are miners. The mountains in the area are littered with natural caverns being used as mine entrances

Golden valley city: the golden valley refers to the surrounding farmland, but in the very middle of it is the golden valley city. It is a rural type of place, is where the majority of ebotts produce passes through before being sold, and is a huge art center of the country. Just about everything above ground is grown in the valley surrounding the city.

Steeler city, the third largest city of ebott, steeler is where golden valley ships their produce to be preserved and spread around the rest of the country. Steeler is full of factories and restaurants. The most famous eating places of ebott are located here!

Crimson gate bridge: it’s a massive bridge named after the Golden Gate Bridge in California. This bridge is actually a sunny gold color, but they named it crimson in fear of being called copycats

Corncopia: a third farming community located between the split between white water river, ebotts biggest river. Corncopia is absolutely gorgeous but space is limited so it’s a fight to get any land there. The prime spots are taken by the rich for their homes or by the big wig farmers who cemented their place when the country was first forming

Not listed on the map is the underground! Ebott still has all the underground chambers from when the monsters were sealed away. New entrances to the underground are being discovered each day, and still plenty of monsters live there, preferring the comfort of a home they knew from before. Since there no longer trapped inside, the underground has become pretty comfortable. At least the discovered parts are ;)

I’ll describe the three main areas from smallest to largest

Hotland: hotland is really only a small thin chunk of the underground. A long but thin lake of lava surrounded by rocky chambers makes up the areas of hotland. The most popular spot of course is hotland city, connected to metta land, it’s pretty much the Vegas of ebott these days. The less visited spot, core, is a small town housing the core, connected to Ridgeside factory, and housing several research centers.

Snowdin. Snowdin is actual just the name of the small quaint town close to the underground entrance in new hope. They have year round skiing, and a pretty boat ride through waterfall straight to hotland for tourists. The outskirts of snowdin however have several villages filled with farmers growing magical crops that thrive in the cold temperatures.

Waterfall: it’s estimated that nearly 80% of the underground chambers are waterfall lands. Humid, cool but not frigid, and filled with varying levels of fresh and salt water, waterfall is underneath the majority of ebott, and even extends into the ocean some. Almost all of ebotts magical crops are grown down in the lived in parts of waterfall. It’s because of this area that ebott is self sufficient in feeding its people. Waterfall also houses the fourth and fifth largest cities of ebott; New Shell and Lily pad Fields.

Whew! That was a lot! I’ll probably add more to the map later on, but I think this is good for now

[quasi-normalcy]

Comedian and playwright from Curve Lake First Nation Drew Hayden Taylor is intimately familiar with the concept of pretendians. He’s been writing about them for years and his documentary The Pretendians explores everything from fake Indigenous art to pretendians’ tendency to be found in the arts and academia. While many things weren’t surprising during his research and filming, Taylor said one thing stood out. “The vast majority of people who have been outed, and I’m using air quotes, are usually smart, intelligent, talented people that could have made a very successful career for themselves without claiming to be Indigenous,” he said in an interview with Global News. “So I’m trying to figure out, why? Why did they latch onto (a claim of Indigeneity) when they didn’t need it?“ He’s come up with three reasons: belonging, financial benefits and family lore. “First, everybody likes to belong, right? … They like to belong to a group of people that have similar concerns. And let’s face it, being Indigenous in this day and age has a certain amount of exoticism and appeal to them,” he said. “The second is obviously certain financial benefits, from getting cheap gas or cheap cigarettes up to the higher levels of writing books, making films, getting important positions in academia, society, organizations, companies, etc. “And the third, in many ways, is the most common: family lore. You have a grandfather who says, ‘Oh yes, I believe my great grandfather had some native blood,’ and they tend to believe that and it becomes part of the family identity without anyone bothering to check it out.”

[sunskate]

Off (ice) Hours Podcast: episode 10 Emilea Zingas (part 2)

has imposter syndrome sometimes (like at 4CC), has to remind herself she earned her place

she's not superstitious at competitions, but Vadym is way more- meditates, everything's organized in a particular order, his costumes, skates. she gets anxious at competitions about her hair and makeup, though -

when she skated singles, she threw on mascara and eyeshadow and called it a day, but she went to her first competition at Lake Placid their first season, and other girls at practice had on fake eyelashes, which she'd never worn in her life, and her coaches asked, where's your makeup? "i didn't know that was a requirement of me right now!" and she was the only skater with a bare face at the practice

other skaters at her rink taught her how to do her makeup. she would sleep in 25 braids before Nationals and 4CC because she didn't want to get up to crimp her hair before performing their RD

Q: is it true that in ice dance, judges - a lot of pressure/attention is put on how the girl looks, like that defines how the whole team looks? A: yeah, a 100%. one of my biggest fears going into ice dance was thinking that i wasn't going to look like a dancer. i just want to say it really doesn't matter what your god-given look is, you can be whatever you want to be. a lot of people told me you just don't look like it, you'll never be an ice dancer. you're such a jumper, you have these huge legs for jumping. you'll just never have that look, and i was really discouraged by that. i let that affect me for a really long time, and now i realize it's not that deep, and you can be whatever you want to be without thinking about how you look all the time. it is a huge part of dance, which i think is unfortunate. like teams who have worse proportions, like maybe the girl is taller than the boy or something like that, it's more difficult physically and people don't like it as much? i guess? i don't want to say that because that's not how i feel, but i can definitely see that people see it that way

sibling teams- could never skate with her brother, it would be more difficult because there's no real boundary for what you can say or do when you're family with someone. that can get messy fast

she looks up to Piper Gilles - her favorite person she's met in ice dance. Emilea has a recurrent ovarian cystic disease, and how Piper handled herself with her ovarian cancer and came back even stronger was inspiring and amazing. and is one of the most talented, powerful, beautiful skaters in the sport today. watched their FD last season crying. Piper carries her weight -

in ice dance "there's a stigma that [the girl] can sit and look pretty and the boy does a lot of work, which there are teams with that dynamic, and it does work, but i think Piper is a good example of someone who doesn't have that kind of presence on the ice. she makes her presence very known, and she's hauling ass in that program. the section after the SlLi - like 2 backwards crossovers basically on her own and then she does this backwards extension - i was just like 'holy- ' she is flying, and she's having no help. she can skate, and that's what i aspire to be like. i don't want to just sit and look pretty, like i want to carry my weight. and i want to be someone who makes a difference in a partnership, and makes a difference in a performance, and she's a great example of someone who does that"

(i *think* this the moment she means, even though it's not after the SlLi - it is an amazing transition into the curve lift)

[stormbreaker101]

Wiztober Day 19: For Better or Worse - What should have been a simple recon mission and fetch quest quickly spiraled out of control, for better and worse.

This fic was made in collaboration with @klaraflamez! It takes place in her Wizard101 postcanon/rewrite, the Cleaved AU. Things aren't quite as they seem in this Spiral...

Content warnings: multiple instances of swear words (so it's not PG-13), and both canon-typical and canon-atypical violence.

If you want to read the fic with font variation for flavor (and maybe a secret or two in between the lines :3), here's the fic in its original format.

Word Count: 7866

It was supposed to be a pretty simple quest. Sneak into a heavily secured Schismist fort in the middle of the day, take the blueprints for an incredibly dangerous machine they’ve got, and hightail it out of there. No harm, no foul, no need to use that license to kill they gave him.

Unfortunately for Flare Rouge and Jane Doe, the young Wizard that (for better and worse) the Arcanum assigned to him to watch over, the fort was in a world that nobody had a key for. The elusive and fascinating Novus, a world said to only be about 25 years old, a world that didn’t exist in Flare’s original spiral! What a joy would that be to see! 

Alas, getting there was another story.

And it still is another story. Sorry Flare, I know you and Jane probably have a ton of good memories you want written out, spending so long adventuring. But there’s a lot to get through.

Moo Bu was fantastic company on the long trip from the Jade Palace to Catmandu, over which hung one of Novus’s shards. He had a thousand stories to pass the time, open ears for Jane and Flare to share their stories with as well, and many a wisdom to dispense. Moo dispensed his final wisdom as their journey split (him up the scarlet Stone of Heaven, and them to Conatus, where the fort stood): “Be careful dealing with the people in charge there. The governors are egoists first, leaders a distant second. And your… Arcanum also sound like bigshots. Do not let them use you.”

Flare nodded slowly. “Thanks, but we’ve got this.” He didn’t like the implication that Moo was hinting at, but there wasn’t time to argue. Jane was already rushing to the pale blue leyline gate. “JANE! WAIT UP!”

“WE DON’T HAVE TIME TO WAIT!” Jane shouted back. Then to Moo Bu she hollered, “BYE! THANKS FOR EVERYTHING!” before disappearing through the gate.

Flare rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hold back a laugh. Ms Whisperwind had warned Flare that Jane was flighty as a pup and needed overseeing. Jane’s impulse and determination were why Flare enjoyed questing with her. Sure, she was his responsibility and 10 years his junior, but she was also a friend. They both ran at a million miles an hour and often ran together, an unstoppable duo of Sorcerers! He hurried after her, zipping through the leyline gate.

~

Conatus sprawled out in front of Flare and Jane, a sight unlike anything the two had seen before. Stone cliffs wide, smoothed, curved, and jutting out like way too many fingers on a pair of palms. Soft white loamy sands down below. A massive indigo waterfall from what almost looked like an eye, tumbling into a massive waving lake. Many tents, gardens, markets, and camps for the other five nations that Novus’s shards hung over. Karamelle, Marleybone, Polaris, Monquista, and Valencia. 

Notably, there was no Schismist fort to be seen, but that only made sense. Why would a secretive cult have a major base of operations where everyone could see? It’s a good thing the Arcanum provided Flare and Jane with some particularly convenient maps: of Conatus, and of the base’s interiors, including the location of the Schismists’ lab, where the dastardly plans lay.

Jane opened the map of Conatus up, and Flare peeked over her shoulder. “There’s no way we can go through the main entrance,” she said, pointing at the entrance marked on the map. “Even with the Arcanum promising to keep the Schismists’ attention, we’d be spotted super easy by whoever stayed behind. Is there some side entrance we can go through?”

“Yep, they’ve got that animal sanctuary,” Flare said. He took out the other map and laid it out on the floor. “Thing is, that’s pretty darn far away from the lab. We might get caught the longer we stay and move around.”

“C’mon, we can do it! I’ve got experience sneaking about back when I was a pirate. And you can… well…” Jane’s train of thought trailed off. Flare was not stealthy in the slightest.

“I could polymorph into a ninja pig-” Flare spitballed.

Jane snort-laughed at the idea. “YES.”

Flare laughed as we,,. “Pogchamp! That’s our plan!”

“More like pigchamp?”

“YES!” Flare cheered. He gathered the map and hopped up to his feet. “I’ve trained ya well in the art of the pun. Now, let’s get going.”

~

The two of them made their way down to the sanctuary entrance, tucked between some cliff walls that at a distance looked like one surface. Flare put his hand against the door and made a portal to the other side. Portals were one of the magics that he had carried from his home, outside every Spiral, and thus were a tad shakier to use here. (This Spiral seems to resist every magic that isn’t its own.) 

Even riskier still to try and make a portal to a place he had never set foot into. The furthest Flare could trust his portals into unknown territory was a few feet. In other words, safely past this wall but not more.

Jane put on her mask and helmet. The portal opened. Flare polymorphed. The two hopped through. The portal closed behind them.

For better and worse, they’re in.

Jane scurried to the shadowed edges of the sanctuary, and Flare hustled up a tree with newfound ninja agility. A peculiar mustache-bird of some kind flew up to Flare. Flare fought back the mounting panic of him being discovered already. It’s just a harmless bird. Not an enemy. He held out a hoof to gently pat the bird. There’s a good birdie. Calm. Friend, he thought at it. He also decided to spare a moment to magically *Check what the bird was, get some more information.

A 2D textbox appeared in front of Flare, with a splash of flavortext explaining the little creature. [Follicle Falcon (Star-Balance, rank 21 Elite): Native to the Stone of Heaven. Well known as therapy pets for their Empathic Abilities.]

So thinking at ya was the right call, Flare realized. There’s a good bird. Kinda wish I could adopt one of y’all from these guys… You deserve better than being raised by cultists, y’know?

In the meantime, Jane had made her way across the sanctuary to the door without any of the other creatures spotting her. Got the door open! Lockpicks :> she Whispered to Flare.

Perfect. Flare crept through the tree cover and climbed on the sanctuary walls, making his way over. I’ll go in first in case anybody’s right inside. Maybe they’ll miss me slipping into the rafters or something.

Jane gave a thumbs up.

Flare nudged the door open and swung inside. The room was thankfully empty, and also a bedroom? Furnished and decorated, with Life motifs everywhere. A fuzzy moss-looking carpet, a soft bed nested in bookshelves, walls lined with various supplies that Flare couldn’t investigate too closely, and a closed wardrobe. Not what he was expecting, but then again… what had he been expecting in the first place? He hadn’t really come into this plan with… any preconceived notions on what a violent apocalyptic cult’s base would look like. He wasn’t one for judging someone based off how others portrayed them, a trait that had caused him to butt heads with this Spiral’s Arcanum many times. Always considering the other perspective, never taking something as face value, save for the Arcanum itself. Because he knew the Arcanum from his own Spiral. But all this debate he got into for his differing views was all in good faith, right? A compromise could be reached eventually. Besides, if they were truly evil, he’d be able to see it for himself.

Maybe the Schismist’s base would show its true colors outside of what was obviously a personal bedroom.

Room’s empty. We’re clear, Flare Whispered to Jane.

Jane stepped in and paid little heed to the room’s decor, heading straight to the other door. She tested the doorknob- it was already unlocked. Hey, weird question, does this feel too… easy for you? she asked.

Not yet, Flare admitted. We’re only two rooms in. It’ll probably ramp up the further we go in. Leah’s not the kind of person to just throw us in the deep end immediately, he reasoned to himself. The story needs time to build, right?

Right.

Jane nodded and opened the door to the halls. She slipped behind a potted plant by the door and Flare climbed up into the rafters above the hanging lights. The floors were lined with neat runner-rugs, a very pleasing blue and purple palette that reminded Flare of his favorite sweater, and distinctly not the dark malachite green and gold normally associated with the Schismists.

The Arcanum had warned that the Schismists were fickle foes. Changing their name and their faces, but carrying the same dangerous ideologies across the ages. They’ve supposedly done it before, posing as the otherwise noble-intentioned Chronomancers in maroon and white in Mirage maintaining the Sands of Time, or the Dark Cloud Agents in grey and purple and silver harassing the Nimbari of Empyrea. Of course they’d do it again, especially after the Wizard had lain waste to those Schismist offshoots 25-odd years ago. This particular chapter of the Schismists, at the heart of Novus, called themselves the Astral Alliance.

Flare and Jane snuck their way through the fort. It was suspiciously quiet. The two of the only caught sight of some folks hanging out in what looked like a library similar to the Arcanum’s Repository, and a lemur-person checking on the sleeping Rainbow Eucalyptus tree planted down the way.

A door opened right underneath Flare! An impossibly tall moose-person stepped through the doorway, speaking to someone inside the room he had just come from: “All we can do is hope, Chancellor.”

Flare held his breath. Leah, don’t leave me hanging. Please. 

The moose’s ear twitched. He hesitated for a moment, hand to his muzzle, then straightened up with a snap of his fingers. “Er, actually, I remembered one last thing on my mind,” he said. “If I may.”

“Oh?” responded this Chancellor figure from inside. “What is it now, Manti?”

“That newest recruit-” Manti closed the door, muting the conversation too quiet for Flare to hear.

THAT WAS WAY TOO CLOSE, Jane screamed in the Whisper.

Flare nodded. We got real lucky. Anyway, next door over is the lab. Jane’s earlier comment about this quest being too easy rang in his mind again. That was so close to leading to a disaster! Had this Manti fellow heard him? Did he think it was just the wind? Did he- god forbid- know? Leah, please. Prove my worst panicking wrong. Save us. Help.

No, no there’s no way Manti knew. If he knew Flare was sneaking around, surely he would’ve sounded an alarm of some kind! Or made ANY sort of move, an attack or a word of acknowledgement like ‘I know you’re there. You came far but now you’re found out. You made a mistake coming here’ or some other archetypical monologue! He wouldn’t just know and say nothing about it.

Of course. Right. Yeah, we’re in the clear. Thanks.

Flare was overthinking.

Oh, come on, you didn’t have to say that.

Jane came out of her hiding spot and tried to pick the lab door open. However, none of her picks seemed to work. “Stupid- dammit- C’mon- Why are you harder- than the fucking outside door- you bastard-” she cursed under her breath, getting more agitated with each repeat attempt. This lock must’ve been enchanted, or just more heavy duty. Flare I think we might just need a portal past this son of a bitch.

Flare dropped down from the rafters and unpolymorphed. One portal past this son of a bitch coming right up, he Whispered back, echoing the vulgarities back because sometimes you just have to call a door a son of a bitch. Hand to the door, he tried to project a portal just barely past the door. No more than… six inches in. That’d still be well in the doorway and thus well without the odds of portaling into some furniture.

The two stepped in, expecting to be the only ones inside.

Instead, there was a hippocampus girl inside, wearing a true Schismist uniform of green and gold, and holding a batch of blueprints in her arms. “Arcanum,” she hissed upon seeing the two.

Flare closed the portal. 

“Hey bastard!” Jane jeered. “You’ve got something that we can’t letcha have!”

“These plans don’t belong to you.” The stranger backed up towards the open window on the back wall.

“We have to take them, for the sake of the Spiral!” Flare countered, stepping forward. If she dared to fly out that window, he could chase after her.

“You know nothing about the matters you’re meddling with,” the woman spat, “nor any understanding about what the Spiral needs!”

Flare dismissed the stranger’s words, and *Checked her. Mercy was rarely an option in the Spiral, and it was painfully obvious to Flare that there was no choice but to defeat and collect here, and he’d like to know what kind of enemy she was before jumping into a fight. [Shrub (Star, Rank 20 Elite) - the Old One’s daughter. Schismist like him. Raised to be a prodigy Wizard. Dangerous.]

A Wizards’ duel circle sprung up at his feet. The circle pulled Shrub in, and then Jane joined Flare. Jane noticed the textbox in front of Flare. “What’sit say?”

“Star school… which could mean just about anything,” Flare answered. “And she’s the Old One’s daughter too. Whoever that is.”

“Ah, so she’s geezer the second.”

Shrub was visibly taken aback, insulted even. But she said nothing more.

Both sides wanted this fight to end quick. The longer they stayed, the more chance there was that someone would come in and discover them. Unfortunately, Flare and Jane made a dynamic duo with him as support to her offense, and Shrub was a pesky foe with all of the worst utility a foe with Myth and Balance mastery could have. Whenever Jane had too many blades, Shrub would Earthquake them off. Whenever Shrub dared to summon an aura on herself, Flare would pop it with a Supernova. Plays upon counterplays. Neither side went down easily.

Shrub’s health ticked down slow and eventual. She had no heals of her own, while Flare was able to keep Jane’s health stable with Availing Hands, and his own health up with the occasional Dark Shepherd. Jane grinned as she looked down at her spread of cards and pip count. “You’re going down!”

“What the hell’s going on in there!?” a voice shouted through the door. The handle rattled. “Shit. ALICE!” The person ran off to find this Alice.

Flare broke the duel ring apart. God fucking damn it. Of course you wouldn’t let it be so easy, Leah. One hit away from defeating Shrub or no, the two of them HAD to leave. Alice was a foreboding force, if she had access to this room that a typical anonymous soldier wouldn’t. 

“What the hell?!” Jane protested. “We had this!”

“That was before god put us on a timer of BASICALLY ZERO,” Flare countered. “We need to go.” He made a portal to outside, the indigo lake visible.

Shrub shoved Jane aside and barreled through the portal as soon as it was large enough for her to fit, like there was a fire at her heels too.

“HEY! GET BACK HERE!” Jane shouted at her, rushing after.

Flare ran out last, closing the portal behind him. As he stopped to catch his breath, he watched Shrub run… and couldn’t help but wonder for a moment why a Schismist warrior would be so desperate to flee the Schismists’ fort too.

Jane’s shouts crashed through Flare’s pondering. “FLARE! COME ON! WE CAN’T JUST LET HER GET AWAY LIKE THAT!”

Flare huffed and stretched his arms and wings out. “I’m coming!” Whatever weird infighting and sabotage and subterfugue there was plaguing the Schismists would have to wait. Flare and Jane had a job to do.

~

The two chased Shrub down to another leyline gate, but by the time they appeared on the other side, Shrub was out of sight. “SHIT!” Jane cursed. “MOTHERFUCKING DAMMIT! SON OF A BITCH!”

Flare draped a wing around Jane. “We’re not gonna give up,” he promised. “We just gotta look around for a bit. We don’t even have to rush anymore. We can just… take a breather. Maybe some snacks?”

Jane’s eyes brightened up at that. She was always up for a snack. Could you blame her? She was a growing kid, always hungry. “Y’know what, yeah. I could go for something.”

Flare looked around. These buildings all seemed very… official. Legislative. That’s the word. Not much of a place to get snacks. He approached a hamsterman in a suit and tie. “Excuse me, sir, would you happen to know where we can get something to eat?” he asked. “We’re, uh… tourists. This is our first time here.”

“Tourists, ja? Welcome to Wunderland! Karamelle’s wondrous bite of Novus, discovered by the renowned Alice von Wunder,” the hamsterman said. “You’ll find the lovely Shopping Town on the other end of the shard. Just follow the West Path!” He pointed to a brick path winding past an open gate. “Though, if the cotton candy storms are still over the bridge, you’ll have to go the long way round instead, down to Karamelle itself und sailing up from the Candyrock Summits.”

“Thanks, mister,” Jane piped up.

“Of course, of course!” the hamsterman assured. “Oh- also, are you alright, darling? You swore very loudly when coming out of the leyline!”

“Sprained my ankle,” Jane quickly lied.

“I was able to heal it,” Flare added, letting his hand glow with magical healing light, the Helping Hand spell out of combat. “Magic.”

“Ah, ja, of coure. Wizard types,” the man said. “Well, I won’t hold you here any longer! Have an Olde-Fashioned Delightful Day!™”

~

The West Path was a beautifully curated trail among the woods. The brick road lined with candylike flowers. Gumdrops and peanut-buttercups and fondant roses. The trees were dense around the path, but occasionally there was an opening. Suppose if someone wanted to take a hike or have a picnic, or a boss battle in peace.

If I weren’t used to Wizard101 logic I’d say that’s completely oxymoronic. A boss battle in peace. As if.

You know what I mean.

Yeah yeah.

“Hey, do you think the Alice here and the Alice that other guy was calling for are the same person?” Jane asked, interrupting the banter between an author and his character. 

“Not really. Do you?” Flare asked.

“It’s just… kinda weird. Coincidental?”

Flare shrugged. “Alice isn’t that rare a name.”

“Yeah, but… isn’t the whole deal with the Schismists that they’ve snuck into everywhere? Including politics? Like claiming the shard?”

“That is fair, but… sometimes a political figure is just that. Political. Not a cultist. We shouldn’t be trying to see more people as enemies than we have to.”

“Yeah, yeah… mercy and all that,” Jane sighed. “I just… don’t wanna be blindsided. Because I’m supposed to be the next Wizard… not to mention all the pirating… I gotta keep my eyes open, y’know? Like Ione said.”

“Ione’s always been a bit of a hardass.” Flare knew the Iones in both this spiral and his well. They mean well, but can sometimes get a bit… tunnel visioned. This spiral’s Ione was worse about it by leagues. “You can keep your eyes open for more than just enemies to fight.”

“I guess. I just… don’t wanna end up on a prison galleon in Polaris or something, you know? Or worse.” 

“Yeah, I know…” Flare nodded. It’s unfair, Jane has a lot of expectations on her shoulders at any given time. He could only do so much to alleviate the stress that everything piled up on her. “Can I ask why ya said Polaris specifically? Have you been, before?”

“Not in Polaris, that was just at the tip of my tongue for some reason. I had been in Skull Island, but a pair of pirates helped bust me out bef-” Jane stopped walking. She looked up at the sky in front of her in fear. “Flare.”

“Yeah?” Flare asked, now worried. He looked to where Jane as looking. “Oh-” In front of them roared a massive pink windstorm, engulfing the edges of the land. He tried to *Check the monstrosity.

[KLorem Ipsum Hamster Cinnamon Mole Hurdy-Gurdy]

“Leah,” Flare muttered, unable to keep his irritation at me silent. “Kindly. What the fuck.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “Who the fuck is Leah?”

“I said that aloud?”

“Yep.”

Flare pinched the pridge between his eyes. “Oh.” Shit how do I explain that we’re characters being written out without giving you an existential crisis!? “Well… he’s basically the Raven, Spider, and Bartleby of the universe I came from.”

“Huh.” Jane hesitated. “His name sounds like just some guy.”

“Yeah. He kinda is. He’s also a massive troll, like what the fuck kind of flavor text is this, man??”

Cinnamon flavor text.

Flare sighed heavily. “I walked right into that one. Son of a bitch.”

“Wait, he answered you???” Jane asked, staring at Flare in utter bewilderment.

“Oh. Yeah. He does that, for better or worse… Usually better.”

“Huh.” Her voice was hollow, Flare’s attempts to stave off the existential crisis had failed. Her friend can just… talk to God. Casually. Damn. If only she could talk to any of the Big Three. But as the existentialism sank in, a miracle unfolded itself in front of the duo. The cotton candy storm parted, like Moses at the Red Sea. 

Flare stared at the storm in bewilderment. “... Son of a bitch rescinded. Doubling down on the ‘what the fuck’, though.” 

“... if I think about this too long I think I’m going to go crazy,” Jane resolved, shaking her head briskly. “But why did- wait nope. That’s thinking about it. Nope nope nope. Can’t do that.” She pushed ahead.

Flare, however, could think about it for longer without going crazy. This meta talk was his normal. So… why this whole cloud thing? Why’d it part for us? Is reality just… kinda fucky? Shitposty? Is this… I can’t think of a better word, normal for this Spiral?

Normal is a meaningless word in Novus and its many shards. This world is Nothing that Flare had ever seen. Magics that never had the chance to surface in his Spiral dance freely in this one. Storms that feast upon existentialism are just one of the ways the fuckiness manifests. For better and worse, there’s more to come.

~

Flare and Jane breached the far edge of the cotton candy storm. The marketplace sprawled out in front of them, with shops advertising sweets galore. The docks were quite busy as well, with one grand ship coming in right now. But right now, there were more important things to pay attention to.

“So… whatcha thinking?” Flare asked, gesturing to the motley of market stands.

Jane looked around, scanning the shops for what exactly she was in the mood for. And then she found it: the holy grail of snacks, the El Dorado of Wunderland. “Chocolate. Over there.” She hurried along, and Flare followed close by.

The hubbub of the market and docks seemed to get louder and louder. Flare glanced out at it, trying to see and hear what was going on. Two voices clamored above the din, though Flare couldn’t see who was shouting it: “... of eVERYTHING DON’T LET IT BE WHAT I THINK IT IS!”

“THEY SAID, AND I QUOTE, ‘GOOD LUCK KICKING THE CALAMARI’S ASS’!”

Flare laughed. “Damn, what the fuck? Jane, you hearing this?”

“Yep. I’m also hearing my stomach growl like crazy! C’mon!” Jane called. “You’ve got the money!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Karamellian candy hit different. Of course a world that’s an entire candy pun would specialize in some downright magical treats. Flare and Jane found a nice shaded spot to sit, chill, and snack. Flare kept his eyes on the skies. That Shrub… After this snack break, he and Jane would have to hunt her down. She probably had to fly around the cotton candy storms. That is… if she was even here. There was a chance that she was headed to some place in the middle of the woods, on the other side of the cotton candy storms, not having to fly at all.

Jane had much less serious things on her mind for now. She heard the mechanical whirr of some sort of… incredibly smooth clockwork come up to her. She looked down and gasped. A small mechanical cat sat in front of her. A bright red coat of paint on its face and body, its ears and tail segmented and silvers, its legs replaced with small wheels under its body. It stared up at Jane with the brightest digital (OwO) expression on its screen of a face. “Flare,” Jane gasped, staring at it as well, completely enamored.

Flare glanced down. “Oh! Where’d this fella come from?”

“No idea. It’s adorable, though.” Jane pet the metal kitten  on its head. It stretched its head up to meet her hand. A digital “Meow!” rang from it. “I’m keeping it,” Jane resolved.

“It’s not owned, is it?”

“It’s not wearing a collar.”

Flare decided to *Check it just in case. [Kit_10. The purrfect pet of Tomorrow! This one isn’t currently owned :3] “It’s your lucky day.”

Jane picked the Kit_10 up and hugged it close. “Hell fuckin’ yeah! I just gotta figure out what to name ya…”

“I’m sure a name will come to ya soon enough,” Flare said. He went back to watching the skies. Where could Shrub have possibly gone?

THERE! On a building by the docks! Leaning against the roof, the greens of her skin and suit almost blending in with the green rooftiles. Key word, almost. There was no way she was just… chilling up there. Flare could see the blueprints in her hands. She must be watching, or listening, or both. As much as Flare wanted to get up and see what was Shrub was espyin’ upon, he knew he’d be spotted if he moved.

Maybe that’d be to his advantage.

“I’m gonna see what’s up with the crowd,” he told Jane. “I’ll be back.”

Jane nodded. “I’ll be trying to come up with names for this guy.”

And down Flare went. Casual, unassuming, he tried his best to not look at Shrub. If she saw him looking at her, she’d know he knew she was there. These sorts of mind games were really dizzying to spell out, but not too hard for him to actually grasp and act upon. Meanwhile, the crowds were talking. Through all the hubbub, Flare couldn’t quite make out what any one person was saying, aside from a few key phrases that seemed almost entirely nonsequitur: Calamari, eldritch putty, Stallion Quartermane, Astral Alliance, Lemuria.

Lemuria was an incredibly… touchy point. It was why Flare was in this second Spiral in the first place. The Schismists of this Spiral had somehow come over to his own, stole an entire world, and brought it here. Flare had come over to this Spiral to warn its Arcanum that the Schismists were making these big moves, while his Arcanum had sent Maulwurf von Trap, ex-Schismist and skilled spy, to infiltrate the Schismists’ ranks and perhaps devise a way to bring Lemuria back?

Now that Flare thought about it, he hadn’t ever had much of a chance to check in on Maulwurf. Every time he actively remembered his friend, there’d always be something else that he HAD to take care of. But right now, there was no such rush. Flare tried to send a Whisper: Hey! Checking in. You safe? How’s Lemuria?

No response. 

He must be busy too, Flare realized. Sadge.

He glanced up towards the building, and just barely caught sight of Shrub’s tail slipping into the window. Damn, perfect timing. Had he looked up a second later, he would’ve missed that. Thank god I saw that. You’re welcome. That building had to be a meeting point of some kind, why else would she have snuck in? Trying to go inside, then coming out through the front door, then sneaking her way into another building would only risk her being noticed by the other people in the crowds.

Flare went back to Jane. “Whenever you’re ready, I found Shrub. We can go yoink the blueprints.”

“Oh shit!” Jane gasped. She stood up. “You bet your ass I’m ready! Let’s go!” She put her helmet on, then picked the Kit_10 up. “I’ll name this guy later. Haven’t had anything good come to mind.”

~

Flare and Jane went down to the building. It was a quaint three-story tower looking out over the docks. Makes sense the Schismists would want a foothold in a busy port, keep an eye on who comes and goes. There was a sign on the door saying “Authorized Personnel Only” in a handful of languages.

“Think we can just portal in?” Jane asked.

Flare looked up to the third floor. “It’ll be risky. We dunno the layout inside. I don’t wanna open up a portal into the middle of the room.”

“We kicked Shrub’s ass once before, we can do it again. This isn’t the entire fort. We won’t get swarmed”

“Meow!” the Kit_10 seemed to agree.

Flare mulled it over, but finally relented. “Alright. Prepare for the worst but hope for the best.” He opened a portal, and prayed that there’d be cover.

The portal opened up to the top of a stairwell. There was a hall and a bend between it and the main room. Perfect.

The duo crept in. Jane put the Kit_10 down. “Okay kitty, I need you to be quiet,” she whispered. “No meows, okay?”

The Kit_10 nodded its mechanical little head.

There was talking within the main room. Voices heard, but faces unseen. “- did not go as smoothly as we had planned, sir.” Shrub’s voice. “The Arcanum sent two of its soldiers to interfere and attempt to retrieve your works as well.”

“I trust you disposed of them?” an older man asked.

“I could not. They were too coordinated, and able to heal back the damage I cast. I only escaped because they fled as soon as we heard an Alliance grunt fetch a senior member.”

“I see. A botched mission that you succeed in is better than one you fail, but moving forward I expect you to do better.”

“Of course, sir.”

A silence.

“... Father,” Shrub amended.

A chill ran through Flare as he put two and two together. He made a text box, silent. [the Old One himself.]

Oh shit, Jane mouthed. She glanced down, to check on the Kit_10. It wasn’t at her feet. She tapped Flare’s arm and pointed down at where the Kit_10 no longer was.

Oh shit, Flare mouthed as well. Fuck, where did it go?!

The Old One made but the slightest ‘hm’ of recognizing his other title. “I trust these two soldiers didn’t track you.” As if the Arcanum would ever resort to tactics that low! Flare and Jane had followed her themselves, they were just that good, no extra trackers required!

“Of course not,” Shrub assured. “They made no physical contact with me, and I was airborne and past the treeline by the time they came through the leyline gate. Additionally, the cotton candy storms are swarming, and only one of the soldiers is winged. With how coordinated they were, I doubt he would have chased after me alone, especially considering he was merely support to the other.”

“Meow!” 

OH SHIT. THAT WAS FROM THE MAIN ROOM.

Silence, and then “Meow! Meow! Meow! Meeeow! Meeeow! Meeeow! Meow! Meow! Meow!” 

“There goes stealth,” Jane grumbled. “Fuck it.” She charged to the main room, Flare right behind, to see the Kit_10 desperately shaking its head and whipping its tail around, as if struggling in the grip of… the Old One. An imposing figure, standing some seven foot tall, his piercing pale gray eyes, immaculate suit (classy top hat included), and posture all radiating an aura of cold command. That was one hell of a B.B.E.G. a la modern video game design if Flare had ever seen one.

Shrub reacted to Jane and Flare barging in first, however. “YOU! How did you-”

“As if we’d ever let you know, Shrub!” Flare retorted. “You ran into the wrong Wizards!”

“You gave them your name?” the Old One asked Shrub.

“I would never!” Shrub insisted. “They- I won’t let you two show me up again!”

The Old One stretched a wing to Shrub’s shoulder, the claw at the tip poking at her skin. “You are being rash. Your judgement clouds.”

“Meow!” the Kit_10 screeched, releasing a spark from its body. The Old One flinched and dropped it, and it rushed right over to Jane.

“… I see the Arcanum’s judgement has clouded over as well, if they think they can send two of its pawns to properly meddle,” the Old One continued. “I suppose you had chance abound to turn back, but mercy is not an option within the Arcanum.”

Flare hated how the Old One ripped that philosophy out of his soul and turned it against him. But… he was right, wasn’t he? There’s no way this can end peacefully now. There was no way the Old One and Shrub would let them leave, with or without the blueprints. There was bound to be a fight. Flare tightened his grip on his spelldeck, and Jane on her wand. 

“Your deaths are entirely your fault,” the Old One warned. He snapped his fingers, and into battle he dragged himself, Shrub, Flare, and Jane. 

Flare quickly *Checked the chthonic man. [The Old One (Myth-Life, Rank 20 Boss) - Secret author of history. Always watching, always nudging. Actually dangerous.] “Oh, this is gonna suck,” Flare groaned. Good luck kicking the calamari’s ass, indeed!

“How bad?” Jane asked.

“Myth-Life. He can heal.”

“Motherfucker.”

Even though the duel circle had declared that Flare and Jane would move first, the Old One had a cheat up his sleeve. A Wyldfire sprung around them all. The Old One didn’t make any scoff or taunt about how apparently he had even more than just two schools of magic at his command.

Flare handed Jane a Blade, and Jane wasted no time attacking Shrub. She had learned from the first fight with her, trying to stack multiple buffs was a waste of time, a pesky Earthquake would just toss it to the wint. This fight would have to be won by a thousand papercuts, and hopefully they can outdamage the Old One’s heals.

An aura sparked to life at the Old One’s feet, and Shrub cast a Spiritblade upon her father. And then the damndest thing happened: the Death portion of the Spiritblade popped, and a second set of Myth- and Lifeblades took its place.

“What the fuck?!” Jane shouted. “That’s bullshit!”

“Now I get what the ‘actually’ was for,” Flare muttered. “He’s gonna sweep us.” But for now, the two of them were still standing. Flare used a cheeky Donate Power, Jane would need all the pips she could get for attack spamming. Jane bid her time with an aura of her own. The Old One cast a pesky weakness on Jane, and Shrub once again lent a blade to her father, which once again burst into a Myth- and Lifeblade pair.

Flare’s heart sank deeper. What was that… six different blades on the Old One in two turns?! If he hit, then the two of them would absolutely wipe. There’s no way Jane could take a triple-bladed hit, and Flare wouldn’t be in good shape either! He cast a Spirit shield on Jane, and Jane lobbed another attack at Shrub. Her attacks weren’t the strongest as is, and that extra Weakness from last round DID NOT HELP.

Finally, the Old One sent an absolute behemoth of an attack. Tatzlewurm, a nasty AOE that neither Jane nor Flare had ever seen, let alone been on the receiving end of! Shielding Jane was the right call! Holy shit! Shrub then cast an attack of her own, at Jane! Just to pile on the pain.

Only three rounds in and this fight was already going bad. Flare chose to heal himself with an Availing Hands, and Jane picked out a Tower shield to also help Flare stay on his feet- but before either spell could come out, the Old One had yet another cheat?! Out of absolutely NOWHERE, a DoT burned into existence at the two Wizards’ feets, then a frigid Balefrost took Wyldfire’s place. 

Flare was damn glad that he and Jane both went on the defensive!

The Old One decided to go defensive as well, casting a Tower Shield of his own- that glitched and became an absorb for- 

“EX FUCKING CUSE ME?!” Jane shouted out of turn. “FIVE FUCKING THOUSAND?!”

“You made a mistake trifling in Schismist affairs!” Shrub taunted on the Old One’s behalf. “Now you see what you’re messing wi-”

“Enough!” the Old One scolded Shrub. “You make yourself seem a fool with your banter.” 

Admonished, Shrub simply cast her spell, a Balanceblade like before. Strangely, this time, it didn’t split. Did the Old One’s abilities depend on which Global buff was up?

“Jane, try casting a bubble,” Flare suggested. “We could use the extra edge, and… I’ve got a theory.”

Jane nodded and cast out a Balance of Power while Flare healed himself again. The bubble took over the Balefrost for a moment, then faltered.

“Alright. That solves nothing. Good to know,” Flare grimaced.

“Playing by this bastard’s rules…” Jane growled. She glanced down at the Kit_10 at her feet. This was all the damn pet’s fault! If it hadn’t rolled out here, then there would’ve been a chance that they could’ve avoided this fight! If Jane hadn’t taken it in the first place, then it wouldn’t have been anywhere near here! Mad at the damn pet, mad at herself. But it’s not like she could do anything about it now! She’s in a fight! And… she doesn’t have the heart to leave such an itty bitty weird clockwork kitty all alone. A captain doesn’t abandon any of her crew, not even the kind that gets her in danger. She made a damn commitment to the Kit_10, for better and for worse.

The fight dragged on, Flare and Jane both struggling to keep themselves and each other alive. Flare began to rely heavily on Dark Shepherd to sustain himself, but even that wasn’t enough. They hardly had the chance to properly attack, and what damage they did do to Shrub and the Old One was quickly healed back up, either by Healing Currents that the Old One just happened to be able to use as a Darkwind crackled around them, or with a healing spell Flare had never seen before, Never Say Die, when the Old One’s own Balance of Power shone.

Flare couldn’t see a way out. Everything he tried to think of felt like it would fail, either thanks to his own exhaustion or the Old One’s power or the Spiral itself enforcing its rules and rejecting every other magic. He couldn’t break the duel circle apart because he wasn’t the one who summoned it this time! He couldn’t summon portals while in combat, and even if he could, it’s not like he could go through them! The duel circle kept him right where he stood. The other nonSpiralian magic he had didn’t translate well into Spiral combat, plus how much could it even possibly do, as spent as Flare was already? How much determination did he really have, in the face of certain doom? His hands were tied. Perhaps he’d be a braver and foolier martyr who could say ‘fuck it’ and try some desperate gambit, if it weren’t for the fact that Jane was here. He had to keep Jane safe. He was bound to that duty.

Jane didn’t have her own ‘Jane’ to keep safe. She was getting pissed. Trying to help Flare heal the two of them was getting nowhere, Wizard heals were nothing like the heals a Pirate could use! She looked to the spells in her hand. One card appeared all sorts of fucked up. Torn, blurred, covered in glitches and blocks of black static. She had been avoiding using that spell because using a fucked up spell like that simply… felt dangerous. Like using a sparkthrower that clearly wasn’t maintained, or a busted shield. But at this point, she had no other option. She cast it, a hail mary.

The attack spun itself together, taking the form of a… pillar? A tree? Before she could even tell what the fuck it was, though, it glitched and fell apart. A waste of however many pips she had. 

Dread strangled her like handcuffs and an ill-fitting necklace. What the actual shit was that? Are you fucking kidding me? No. NO. I’m not letting my turn be a fucking waste! Her absolute rage cut through whatever bullshit laws of magic forced this entire song and dance. A dagger through tough ropes. To hell with ‘turns’ in the first place! Jane grabbed the Kit_10 and stormed forward. “HEY, MOLD ONE! EAT SHIT!” And she threw the Kit_10 at the Old One with the fury of a thousand fucking suns.

The Old One brought his arms up to try and catch the Kit_10. However its momentum barreled it past his hands, and it crashed into his sternum, his windpipe, his spine. Like a cannonball tearing through a flimsy ship hull. Absolute shock and indignation. How did this child-

His body collapsed under the weight of the Kit_10, and his spine failing. For better and worse (though mostly for better), the Old One was as damned as dead.

Shrub stared at her father’s corpse. Terror ate at her bones. Her stomach churned at the sight of some of of her father’s blue blood trickling out from his mouth. “You…”

“Geeettttttt dunked on!” Jane crowed. “Hey, Flare, how’d I do?”

Flare blinked, getting out of his shocked stupor. “Uh- You did great! Let’s get out of here.” He had no idea how Jane had done… any of that, but good for her! And what the fuck! But mostly good for her! He broke the duel circle apart and picked up the blueprints Shrub had left on a small desk in the corner.

“Meow!” the Kit_10 said, chipper as ever, despite it still sitting on a bloody corpse.

“And you did great too!” Jane said, scooping the Kit_10 in her arms, babytalking it. “I am so proud of you!”

Flare made a portal to the Arcanum. “Let’s get that cleaned up before you cuddle it,” he told Jane with a slight chuckle. He wanted to get out of here. He didn’t do well with corpses. Especially not fresh ones.

“NO,” Shrub screeched, all the grief and hatred bursting from her in a moment. “No, I will not let you get away with this! Don’t you dare think you can get away with this!” She glared at Flare and Jane, her eyes as smoldering hot as her late father’s had been piercing cold. “I am what you two could never be. What neither Arcanum nor Alliance could ever understand. Neither you nor Manticore can stop the Spiral’s true fate!”

Jane opened her mouth to deliver one last scathing clapback, but Flare stood in the way and gently nudged her through the portal. She was grieving, snapping, they should at least give her the mercy of quiet. He closed the portal as soon as the two were through.

“Awh come on, are ya seriously gonna let her have the last word?” Jane asked. “I had a helluva jeer for her, too! I’m already what she is, just some girl with a dead dad!”

Flare took a deep breath. How the hell to explain this. “We cannot take another fight. We’ve got like… what, maybe two hundred HP apiece, was it?”

“And what’re we supposed to do, just let her ramble and diss us like that?”

“We rest. We recover. And who knows, maybe she’ll find us and we get a chance to fight her again.” Those words dropped from his mouth and settled in his gut like lead. He did not want to face her again. He hadn’t wanted to be accomplice for murder. He hadn’t wanted to force Jane into a position where she had to murder. But for better and for worse… it happened anyway. “You should wash yourself and the Kit_10 off. I’ll hand in the blueprints and report to Ione.”

~

A few hours later, after the not-so-simple quest had been turned in, Flare found Jane and the Kit_10 over by Sybil, the sleeping birch of the Arcanum. He still had no idea what its name was. “So, got any ideas of names for it?”

“Meow!” the Kit_10 mewed as Flare approached.

“How about Stabbington the Squidslayer?” Jane asked. “They did help, after all.” She gave it a pat on the head.

Flare sat down next to Jane. “Someone might get mad,” he warned. “Y’know, given that’s literally us admitting our crime. And accomplice.” Technically the Kit_10 was a weapon, not an accomplice, but technicalities.

“So… not a great idea in the slightest. Gotcha…” Jane looked aside. She was used to being proud of her crimes. Having to keep silent about her accomplishment, especially with how kickass it was, felt stifling. 

“But… we can make a pun out of it so convoluted nobody will guess?”

“Oh yeah!”

Flare rushed to the Arcanum’s Repository, grabbed a encyclopedia of marine life, and hurried back to Jane. “Let’s see… what puns can we come up with for…” He flipped over to the page for the common squid. “Loligo vulgaris?” He then did a double take. “Wait. Vulgaris? Really?? What the hell, scientists???” What’s so vulgar about a squid?

“What about… Grim Bubbles?” Jane then suggested. “Grim like the grim reaper, and bubbles because sea life?”

Flare gasped and slammed the encyclopedia shut. “That’s GENIUS.”

“Why, thank you!” Jane tried to bow, overdramatic and proud. It just looked like she was folding herself over Grim Bubbles, gloping it in an armless hug. She then straightened up. “I do have a wonderful teacher, after all.”

“That ya do,” Flare admitted, letting himself have a moment of pride too.

“Meow!” Bubbles said. It wheeled around, mechanical zoomies.

“Aww, they like it too!” Jane cooed. 

It was rather nice, being able to play with Bubbles. A moment of lightheartedness and peace. Jane didn’t have any regrets today. Flare had a few, but that’s simply to be expected. He could never take something as face value or absolute. 

~

This quest happened for better and worse, and the two of them were certain it was ultimately for the better.

[alightinthelantern]

Milwaukee Road “Skytop” lounge-sleeper cars, 1948

In early 1948 the Chicago, Milwaukee, St. Paul and Pacific Railroad built four “Rapids” series lounge-parlor-observation cars in their home shops for their “Morning Hiawatha” and “Afternoon Hiawatha” passenger services, daytime trains that ran twice-daily through the Great Lakes region. Dubbed “Skytops”, these cars were designed by famed industrial designer Brooks Stevens, whose accomplishments vary from trains and automobiles to home appliances and even the original Wienermobile. These "Skytops” featured a radical design, with their tail-end an elongated quarter-sphere with a bullet-tip floor plan in a complex curvature made up of flat sections joined like a polyhedron. The cars’ tails were 90% glass and featured flat panels of glass only, no curved glass at all in their construction. The four “Rapids” series cars, which each boasted a name ending in “Rapids”, were parlor cars, with comfortable single seats which swiveled, rather than benches as in Coach, offered at First-class rates.

In late 1948 Milwaukee Road outsourced to the Pullman Company the construction of six “Skytops” for use on their long-distance “Olympian Hiawatha” service which ran between Chicago, Illinois and Seattle, Washington. Dubbed “Creek” series, with names all ending in the word “Creek”, these “Skytops”, delivered between December 1948 and January 1949, were lounge-sleeping cars rather than lounge-parlors, and featured eight bedrooms, sleeping sixteen, in the forward majority of the car, each with private toilet, plus a public toilet at the head of the car, and an enlarged lounge area seating twenty at the tail-end. Visually similar to the “Rapids” series cars in exterior, the “Creek” series lounge-sleepers had an extra bay of windows and skylights forward of the main tail section, and a different arrangement of windows along the sides of the car forward of the lounge.

During its existence the “Olympian Hiawatha” saw stiff competition from several rival trains along the same route, and the Milwaukee Road Company created bold, stylish passenger cars such as the “Skytops” and “Super Domes” in hopes of giving their service an edge. However, the 1950s saw the creation of the US Interstate Highway System and the subsequent diminishing of the railroads at the hands of an automobile boom, and with diminishing ridership and mounting losses the Milwaukee Road cancelled the “Olympian Hiawatha” in 1961. After this the six “Creek” series cars were sold to Canadian National, and served on various trains throughout the 1960s and early seventies. The cars, which had exits only at their forward ends, saw the end of service when new safety laws decreed all passenger cars in service must have at least two exits, and an exit at each end. After this Canadian National scrapped three of the cars and sold the rest to US interests. One car “Coffee Creek”, is currently under restoration, and the last two, “Gold Creek” and “Arrow Creek”, are stored as cut-up hulks at the Milwaukee Road Heritage Center.

Photos:

Image one is original concept art for the Skytop sleeper, painted by Brooks Stevens.

Image 3 is an edit of Image 2 which I personally did.

Image 4′s source is here

Image 5 is a model of the car.

Images 6–10 are historical photos from various sources.

[myimaginedcorner]

A TUMBLR STORY: TORN PAGE (p.3)

Your image is reflected on distorted glass. In bottles of all colours, you distinguish eyes and lips, soft features sharpened into dignified edges. Ears, pointy, stick sidewards in magnitude not quite proportional to skull, their features giving out your affiliation.

“Ah, what a silly question, silly me,” giggles the bartender, adjusting their wild locks. “Unique is how elves are the only ones with ears like that.”

Yes, you are an elf. You remember now. Your thoughts are turned towards your home – the beautiful, eternal Celest. What a sight, your homeland! The envy of all elves, peak to the architectural dream. Magnificent, it stands as radiant fortress on the highest hill, with waves of a tormented sea barely scratching silver walls. It mimics sky, aiming to be its equal, mirror to clouds and stars that float in turquoise.

A curved cylinder forms its barrier, no doors nor windows serving as main entrance. Inside, no sides exist, all flowing into one another. One building is a river splashing over serpentines of roads, a waterfall in form of a new house becoming waves that serve as roof for someone else’s lake. Towers, reaching for suns and moons, hurls the stone water up, where magic fog surrounds their ceiling, hiding them from human eyes. A stone ode to the mighty sea, Celest is both a storm and an unshaken stream, chaos and order tribute to Time’s indescribable flow.

You take one pan. The blue for you is of a darker tone, sea-green calling recollections of a boundless landscape. Each day, you saw the sea glow under the sun’s rays, and watched it dance to the moon’s movement. The stars you learned first to name all could be seen from your small balcony.

You drink. The taste reminds you of that one occasion, that you were dared to taste the lab’s residual waters. Odd that it brings a smile upon your lips.

“Happy you’ve liked it,” says the bartender, who has been observing you in silence as you shuffled memories.

You nod. Indeed, you’ve liked it a lot.

“An elf, huh…” behind, Ralph seems uneasy. Settling in his chair with trepidation, a deep sigh escapes his mouth as a long hiss. “No wonder…”

“All good, Ralph? You don’t seem particularly happy for you friend here,” the bartender points out.

“Happy? Damn me if I’d be happy for this. You know who they’ll be – we both know.”

“What do you mean, Ralph?”

“It’s obvious. There’s only one tale worth telling among the elves.”

“Many are the legends told about the elven kind,” you frown, for that is certainly not true. “We’ve spread from Therania onto other worlds, coming to be one of the most diverse kind in the Cosmos; we’ve lived with dragons, some becoming priests, others – tamers; we’ve found most secrets to our magic, and built one of the strongest nations to our world. Many are our heroes – many will be whose name is recognised from simple whispers.”

“How flowery…” you hear someone mutter in the corner.

“Perhaps our guest here was an orator,” smiles the bartender, washing up your used pan. “Certainly, I now feel inspired by their people.”

“They sound so majestic!” a fairy of silver locks sighs, dreamy eyes shining behind a hookah she shares with a genie.

“Only two names are so remembered as you say,” however, Ralph seems not to get besotted by your speech. As his old gaze meets yours, chills run down your spine. Celest’s image becomes blurry, darker – it’s pure glow faints, dark paint spattered over your most treasured landscape.

“Truly?” tilting their head, the bartender looks at you, too. “And who were they?”

You wish not to remember, but memories dredge up your brain, their ugly claws shown to surface.  

“It’s elven’s most known story,” Ralph’s insistence comes in defeated voice, his suspicions finally confirmed by your lost gaze. “Of course they are.”

“Oh, you’re now keeping me in the dark! What story is it, what is it?”

Perhaps, you don’t want to tell it. Not out loud. But there’s no stop to what you are recalling – you see it on distorted glass, on twisted furniture and variegated walls.

THERANIA'S CHEAT SHEET:

HERO - According to Fate's Faithful Encyclopaedia (Alse, T. 2.31, 45th Edition (2.750), p.71), a 'hero' is someone recognised by Seers, in whose life destiny has written an important task. They are meant to fulfill such task, regardless of difficulty, in order to preserve Hero's peace and save Therania from a great calamity.

VILLAIN - According to Fate's Faithful Encyclopaedia (Alse, T. 2.31, 45th Edition (2.750), p.72), a 'villain' is that one who - even if given a written prophecy - refuses to fulfill their duty and acts defiantly against Fate's chosen path, threatening the peace of Therania with an unforeseen calamity no hero is prepared to stop.

[kootiepatra]

#FFxivWrite2023 - Day 18: Fish out of Water

The sea stretched out before her in a shimmering expanse like nothing she had seen before. To be sure, the Shroud had plenty of water of its own—majestic waterfalls and rivers, large lakes that required a ferry to cross. But there was something about the sea that was different. It was breathtaking. She couldn’t believe it had taken her some thirty summers to see it.

Keimwyda required a minute on the airship landing anyway to regain her land legs after the flight in. She savored it, drinking in the sight of the Rhotano, hearing the crashing of its waves, smelling—well, there was a freshness to the salty sea air, but also an unmistakeable smell of fish and blasting powder and oil. Limsa Lominsa was a busy working city, after all. She marveled at the way it rose above the waters, towering whitewashed walls tied together with curving paths and gangplanks. 

She wondered what her father had thought of this view. Assuming his business ever took him to the airship landing, that is.

Sighing once more at the view, she reluctantly backed away from the railing and made her way towards the lift that would take her to Bulwark Hall, practically straight to the Admiral’s office.

Their meeting was brief and to the point, and went well. Keimwyda managed to remember her message and deliver it without too much fumbling, despite being mildly intimidated by the—unsurprisingly in hindsight—commanding air that Merlwyb Bloefhyswyn had about her. But she had been welcoming enough, and asked her to relay a message of her own to the head of the Immortal Flames in Ul’dah.

Sure. No problem. Just the second new city in less than a day, meeting another prominent world leader, bringing messages from not one but two other nations. How did this backwoods girl from the Black Shroud get here, again?

With Merlwyb’s blessing, however, Keimwyda elected to take the long way back to the landing. She did not mention her father’s history here, but she dearly wanted to see the city. As Miounne had suggested, though, she kept one hand loosely on her coinpurse. 

While her father had told her some about the city, including good memories, he did not seem to be under any delusions as to its flaws. Keimwyda had vague memories of asking him to tell her about what Limsa Lominsa was like.

“Well,” Sylbdhem had said, after considering his answer. “There’s good people there, and some bad people there. But that’s true of just about anywhere. Always look for those good people. Anyway. It’s a busy place, and a beautiful place. I met my best mates there, and I loved sailing with my crew. But... ah, let’s just say that it didn’t take much convincin’ for me to follow your mother to someplace new.”

As he had been vague, endeavoring always to be gentle with her, Keimwyda now had to read backwards to connect the dots in what he had said. She could only imagine what it must have been like in his days, before the Admiral had taken the helm. She did remember Miss Estelle saying something about him not wanting to raise his little girl there.

But still, it was a part of him, and he had been a part of it, and she found herself looking for him everywhere. She even occasionally thought she saw him in the faces of weathered deckhands wandering about the port. …But then it occurred to her that in the more than two decades since she last saw his face, things would have changed. If he was still somehow alive—which was admittedly doubtful, at best—he would not look so tall next to her anymore. She wondered what kind of crow’s feet would crinkle at the corner of his eyes, what kind of silver would now streak through his dark gray-blue hair. She did miss him.

It was surreal to finally, actually be here. And for the first time in her life, she was in a crowd she could actually get lost in. She was not the tallest person here. Sea Wolf Roegadyn were everywhere, not least among them the Admiral herself. She was so used to being “the Roegadyn woman” around town and even on ventures into Gridania, that she boggled to realize someone would need more descriptors than that to identify her here. It felt—good.

Yet she also expected to feel more connected here than she did. She wasn’t sure she expected it to feel like home, but neither did she expect to feel so lost. Literally, now, as she had taken a wrong turn or two on the winding paths, but figuratively, as well. On the one hand, she enjoyed seeing the hubbub—such a difference from sleepy Gridania—people ambling everywhere, scrambling to ready ships that dwarfed any ferry she’d ever been on, drinking together, arguing together. Buskers on various instruments, some of which she had never seen, blared from every free corner. Barkers in the markets advertised their wares, and full-throated laughter was everywhere. It was a wonder. 

But the raised voices and, er, colorful language, was not like what she was used to. The people had a rough, brash manner about them that she didn’t remember of her father. He had his rough edges, to be sure—and she definitely recognized his particular brand of slouching at the table that she saw scattered about the taverns as she went. But he had always been so gentle, so kind, his gravelly, weathered voice always soft in how he used it. He was well-liked by the village in the Shroud, and Miss Estelle said that he had been much beloved by his crewmates, including her late son.

But Keimwdya could also believe he felt the same sort of discomfort, the same sense of not quite fitting in. He was certainly the type to find greater enjoyment in a quiet night around a home-cooked meal than in bawdy tavern songs and arm-wrestling. She needed far more time to get acquainted with this city, of course. And of course the loudest and the biggest version of everything would be what filtered to the top of the din. She should reserve judgment. She could believe she could learn to love it here.

But in sharing his environs, she also was learning something about Sylbdhem Ganzhortsyn—just not quite what she had expected to.

[zmeydeva-arch]

                 ⊹        50 TYPES OF KISSES . . .         ⥼  (   ACCEPTING !

  A HALLOWED VESSEL FOR CHAOS,     A BODY MADE PRISON FOR GODS.    exaltation is not a practice conducted upon the living.     this was what sanctuaries were for,    this is why statues were erected,    this is why scripture is written and bound.    blood and skin cannot hold divinity when plucked from the sky.    she had felt the weight of her an sanctity,    the diadem at her brow securing layers of netted veils making a muddled lake of silver of her face.     NOT A WOMAN BUT A SYMBOL,    REDUCED TO ICONOGRAPHY.     in her desperation she had employed the serpent out of necessity,     a means of escape.    the trial was not found in the act of larceny itself but the weeks that followed her willing abduction.     crossing country lines of warring nations,    tumultuous landscapes,    and backwater villages that would sooner see the both of them set ablaze than upon a barstool in their nearest tavern.   

       occasionally,    they travel horseback if the dragon's presence did not frighten their steads into a frozen horror by sheer proximity alone.    she no longer complains about the meager encampments they find themselves dwelling in or the discomfort of making bed of the winter-hardened earth.    NATURE IS MY PRIMORDIAL DWELLING AND THOUGH I LUXURIATED IN THE CATACOMBS OF TEMPLES    ━      I STILL WAS A STRANGER AMONGST THE DEAD.     she is fatigued from the mental toll of battle,    of feeling the bite of dispatch around her.  @vipier  is now in-tune with the keenness of her empathic sense as he casted glances at her from his trot beside her though their procession does not halt    (   careful,    i may believe you are wearing concern today   )    she is adjusting her gloves    ━      the bone-white hide of them that never leaves her palms uncovered.    a shallow wound at her wrist she inspects and one of the pair falls upon fresh snow.     

       it is not rushed his dismount,    the sinuous ease of his movements until he is beside her and her mare.     he pockets the glove in favor of returning it to her    ━      arm outstretched for retrieval and yet he captures her by that rare,    bared pulse point.     fingers pressed to the faint heartlines as he bestows a kiss to her knuckles.    he does so,    not with the bowed head of a devotee but the raised,    poignant gaze of a dualist landing the first blow.     A WELL UNSEALED;     THE CONTACT IS A SINGING STRIKE OF LIGHTNING.    with the current set free she can properly identify that prior twinge of worry muddled down by the vexation of daring to care to begin with    (   do not look back at me,    i have caught you shedded scale and raw   )    for a brief,    terrible instant she is entirely aware of what she is about to let unfold and then steels herself against that knowing.        ❛   kiss me...    properly.      ❜    demand only softened by the cloud of hot breath materializing before her in the frigid air.    his grip tightens and her chin turns upward imperiously despite the climb of her erratic heartbeat.     UNDER THE GUISE OF A CHALLENGE,    THIS DAMPENS THE UPHEAVAL BUT NOT ENTIRELY.    

      ❛   you have never handled me like a noble creature before    ━      why begin now?      ❜    the frailty of such a meager advance    (   speak to me in a language we both recognize   )    then he is pulling her down from her saddle,    dragging,    there is no lift,    only the world going entirely askew.    a controlled fall and they both tumble into the powder;    soundlessly and unharmed.    the latter condition hardly lasting as she landed over him;    her words had seemed to cast their strange magic.    all her drapery discarded he cups her the curve of her cheek and issues the evoked true kiss with a fervor lined with teeth.     a parted mouth over her own and she can taste another man's blood on his lips still.    that metallic savor only driving her forth more her tongue draws the crimson out of him.    an ancient wanting,    a basal hunger recalled and remembered.    that gnawing voice and its insistent litany:    eat ,   eat,     eat.   

[ultraheydudemestuff]

Garrett Morgan House Site

5202 Harlem Ave.

Cleveland, OH

Open land on the southern side of the 5200 block of Harlem Avenue in Cleveland, Ohio, was formerly the location of the Garrett Morgan House, which was listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Garrett Augustus Morgan was an African American businessman and prolific inventor of devices that made people's lives safer and more convenient. Born on March 4, 1877, in Claysville, the Black segregated section of Paris, Kentucky, Morgan migrated north first to Cincinnati and then Cleveland in 1895. He lived and worked in this house at 5204 Harlem Avenue. In 1906, Morgan started the G.A. Morgan Hair Refining Company to market the hair straightener he had invented. The following year he opened a sewing machine repair shop. In 1908, he and his wife Mary opened Morgan's Cut Rate Ladies Clothing Store.

In 1910, Garrett Morgan invented the curve-toothed hair-straightening comb, and four years later patented the safety hood protection device after seeing firefighters struggling from the smoke they encountered in the line of duty. He was able to sell his invention around the country, sometimes using the tactic of having a hired white actor take credit rather than revealing himself as its inventor. It was patented and awarded a gold medal two years later by the International Association of Fire Chiefs. The hood became the forerunner of the gas mask used in the 1916 Lake Erie Crib disaster and further developed and used in World War I. He also invented the traffic signal and sold his patented rights to General Electric Company. He was a founding member of the Cleveland Association of Colored Men and served as treasurer. He continued to invent tools, gadgets, and devices well into his 70s. He died in 1963 while preparing an exhibition of his life's work for an exposition in Chicago.

The Garrett Morgan House was added to the National Register of Historic Places on December 17, 1982; although since destroyed, it has not yet been removed from the Register. A Garrett A. Morgan Marker was located here but has been moved from 5202 Harlem Avenue, to a location just around the corner on East 55th Street near Harlem Avenue, on the right when traveling south, as to be more visible, since the house is no longer there.

[cabbazar]

Places To Visit In Spiti Valley

Spiti Valley is known as one of the coldest places in India and titles as “cold desert”. Remains covered by thick Himalayan snow Spiti valley travel remains cut off from the rest of the country for around 6 months. But the best month to visit Spiti Valley are of Summer months when it is accessible via car. This majestic cold desert valley is flourished with pine forests, green meadows, beautiful monasteries and inhabited villages which makes Spiti Valley tourism a stunning experience. Spiti tourism attracts thousands of tourists every year because of its unadulterated beauty. However thrilling adventure and joy are also Spiti Valley tourist attractions. Another popular tourist attraction is the ropeway from Kimberly to Chichum. It offers a bird's eye view of surrounding peaks. Besides this there are several high altitude treks and some of them are like unseen, picture perfect scenery. Spiti is also a heavenly gateway for those seeking bliss in nature.

1. Key Monastery

Nestled among the breathtaking scenery of Himachal Pradesh is the crown jewel of the monasteries – Keegompa. Standing tall as the region's largest and oldest sanctuary, this iconic destination beckons every traveler seeking a captivating experience. Set amidst majestic mountains and tranquil valleys, Kee Gompa is not only a sight to behold but also an immersion in the rich tapestry of monastic grandeur. Graced by the Curving Spiti River, this Tibetan Buddhist refuge, also called Kye Gompa or Key and Key Monastery, sits proudly on a scenic hill 4,166 meters above sea level Marvel at the divine fusion of monastic architecture adorned with intricate paintings, mesmerizing murals, ancient manuscripts and the melodious whispers of windmills.

2. Chandratal lake

Breathtakingly located at an altitude of 4200 meters above sea level, Chandratal reveals a mesmerizing beauty that defies description unless experienced first hand Lovely panorama of mountains and meadows Framed by -, Chandratal beckons photographers looking for the perfect Instagram shot Earning fame as a haven for trekkers, Chandratal Lake stands as the epitome of charm embedded in the embrace of the Himalayas This enchanting body of water adorns the seaside plateau near the Curved Chandra River at 4300m. Offering unparalleled views of the Spiti region, Chandra Lake is a sanctuary for adventure enthusiasts pushing their limits, especially in the winter months when it tops the bucket list of thrill seekers.

3. Pin Valley National Park

Nestled in the ancient embrace of India's highest cold valley, the national park is a testament to Himachal Pradesh's commitment to preserving its unique natural wonders Inside a tame sanctuary The elusive snow cheetahs that reign as the grand predators of the Himalayas live alongside their nimble prey ibex Traveling in this wilderness demands flexibility, urging you to embrace fitness programs that will fortify you against the rough and uncertain terrains that await you. Moreover, the national park is not only a haven for wildlife enthusiasts but also a sacred place echoing a deep spiritual aura. The presence of Buddhist monasteries in the vicinity adds a spiritual dimension, making this trip not only a physical adventure but a soulful one.

4. Suraj Tal

The third highest lake in India and the 21st highest lake globally, Suraj Tal is a divine body of water surrounded by rugged bare hills and tranquil valleys Many believe that a dip in the pristine emerald waters of the lake cleanses one of their sins. Whether you visit Surajtal for spiritual reasons or a desire to immerse yourself in unparalleled natural beauty, you are sure not to be disappointed. A haven for avid trekkers, the lake offers a sanctuary to refresh and recharge during the challenging Manali-Leh trek. For adrenaline junkies, motorcyclists and mountain bikers, this destination serves as a wonderful stopover on their journey.

5. Tabo Monastery

Nestled in the breathtaking Spiti Valley, Tabo Monastery beckons with its timeless charm. Established thousands of years ago, this holy place is a beautiful fusion of past stories, rich cultural tapestry, nature and stunning beauty. Located in the cool desolation of the Tabo Valley, the monastery protects visitors from the harsh embrace of rocky mountains and of Rohr It is a priceless treasure – a true delight for deep enthusiasts Art lovers and sculpture fans will immerse themselves in a world of wonder surrounded by impeccably preserved paintings, intricate frescoes and skillfully crafted sculptures or, surrender to the surroundings and let deep tranquility wash over your soul. Tabo Monastery is not just a destination; It's an odyssey in the heart of cultural richness and natural tranquility.

6. Kunzum Pass

Wandering through the beautiful Kunjum Pass, a hidden gem in the heart of the Spiti Valley, he embarked on an adventure like no other. This hidden gateway beckons you to explore the spelling regions connecting Kullu and Lahul, providing a visual feast for your photo-loving spirit Take in the astounding beauty that unfolds before your eyes – from the gleaming Bara Shigri glacier covered in ancient silver to the rugged majesty of the mountain range at moon break, The cerulean embrace of the Spiti River and the irrepressible charm of the mountains of the Spiti Valley. Immerse yourself in the sacred glow of the Kunjum Devi temple, where your soul may find solace amidst a vibrant dance of prayer flags waving in harmony with the mountain breeze For adventurous souls on two wheels, Kunjum Pass stands as the pinnacle of achievement Take the opportunity to do it.

7. Kaza

Nestled in the heart of the beautiful Indian state of Himachal Pradesh, the city of Kaja is a breathtaking place of peace in the middle of the Spiti Valley The existing city expands from two distinct parties – the new Qaza, which maintains the royal palace, and the Old Qaza, which hosts the seat of government. Packed with historical marvels, monasteries and gompas, Caja exudes a captivating aura, blending ancient marvels with contemporary vibrancy. At present, this Himalayan gem is a captivating fusion of timeless culture and modern allure, ready to captivate every explorer with awe and fascination.

Caja's pristine surroundings and rugged mountainous terrain beckon travelers seeking spiritual tranquility and adventurous exploitation. Serving as a launching pad for exciting activities like mountain climbing, trekking and other famous trails like Pin-Bhaba, Parang-La, Pin-Parvati etc. Beyond the thrill of adventure sports and visiting Buddhist sanctuaries, visitors are drawn to explore charming villages around Kaja, promising an unparalleled and memorable experience Discover the magic of Caja, where ancient stories meet contemporary rhythms to create a tapestry of wonder and discovery for those who explore it.

8. Dhankar Lake

Magnificently situated on a small hill, Dhankar Lake beckons adventurers at an altitude of 4100 meters above sea level. This blue gem is a must-visit destination in the Spiti Valley, offering a thrilling experience. Embark on the famous Dhankar Lake trek, along challenging paths, down rocky and snow-capped peaks, see unmatched panoramas bewitching thrill seekers and photography lovers as you climb Dhankar Fort Monastery emerges, strategically between Spiti and Pin rivers is located, providing a spiritual echo of the journey it eerily plays hidden alongside the trail, adding an ethereal touch. Once you reach the lake, prepare to be mesmerized by rare and varied sights that are sure to leave you in awe! Dive beyond the ordinary into the realm of magical realism.

9. Kibber

There is a beauty inherent in the heart of Kibber that transcends mere words – an arid landscape adorned by rocky hills, meadows painted with vibrant wildflowers, all harmoniously enveloped in a pristine, pollution-free environment. It is a sanctuary for stargazers and photo enthusiasts, attracted by the incomparable, exquisite view of the Milky Way. Embark on a journey to the nearby Kibber Wildlife Sanctuary, where nature's symphony comes alive with the irrepressible presence of majestic ibexes, rare blue sheep, fierce red foxes, rare snow leopards and wolves making the sanctuary a canvas of astounding wildlife.

10. Tabo

Situated on the banks of the beautiful Spiti River, Tabo emerges as a gem in the Lahaul-Spiti district of Himachal Pradesh. This cool desert town at a breathtaking elevation of 10,760 feet is embraced by the scree slopes and snow-capped peaks of the majestic Himalayas Tabo, with its quiet charm, beckons extraordinarily adventurous explorers. Located just 40 kilometers from the Indo-Tibetan border, this hidden wonder is revealed on your road trip from Kaja to Rekkong Peo. Among Tabo's most fascinating attractions is the millennia-old monastery, revered as the holiest monastery by none other than the Dalai Lama himself Sometimes sanctuaries for Buddhist monks seeking refuge from the harsh winter, temples and ancient caves grace the city's landscape.

In 1996, Tabo witnessed a sacred Kala Chakra initiation personally conducted by the Dalai Lama, attracting thousands of devotees from India and beyond. Adding to its charm, the city is famous for cultivating the most delectable and crisp red apples. If you're craving an escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life, a stay in Tabo promises to revitalize your mind and body. Read more in this blog best places in spiti valley at Cabbazar.

[rabbitcruiser]

Grande Cache, AB (No. 3)

A wigwam, wickiup, wetu (Wampanoag), or wiigiwaam (Ojibwe, in syllabics: ᐧᐄᑭᐧᐋᒻ)[1] is a semi-permanent domed dwelling formerly used by certain Native American tribes and First Nations people and still used for ceremonial events. The term wickiup is generally used to refer to these kinds of dwellings in the Southwestern United States and Western United States and Northwest Alberta, Canada, while wigwam is usually applied to these structures in the Northeastern United States as well as Ontario and Quebec in central Canada. The names can refer to many distinct types of Indigenous structures regardless of location or cultural group. The wigwam is not to be confused with the Native Plains tipi, which has a different construction, structure, and use.

The domed, round shelter was used by numerous northeastern Indigenous tribes. The curved surfaces make it an ideal shelter for all kinds of conditions. Indigenous peoples in the Great Lakes–St. Lawrence Lowlands resided in either wigwams or longhouses.

Wickiups were used by different indigenous peoples of the Great Basin, Southwest, and Pacific Coast. They were single room, dome-shaped dwellings, with a great deal of variation in size, shape, and materials.

The Acjachemen, an indigenous people of California, built cone-shaped huts made of willow branches covered with brush or mats made of tule leaves. Known as kiichas, the temporary shelters were utilized for sleeping or as refuge in cases of inclement weather. When a dwelling reached the end of its practical life it was simply burned, and a replacement erected in its place in about a day's time.

Source: Wikipedia

[sunskate]

I really love the Hensen/Lickers FD. I think I may have enjoyed the first version more than the later ones they keep tweaking but it’s still an excellent piece of choreography. (I think the movements were sharper on the music earlier than they are now, especially in the first 30 seconds or so, which felt more impactful to me).

My question is this — what can they do to improve the GOE on their elements, especially the lifts where they are getting the level 4? Is it that the lifts aren’t complex enough (though this didn’t affect PC) or polish or politics? I know it will take time but I’d like them to at least be pushing Lauriault/Le Gac with this material.

They've improved so much even since the start of the season! Like the difference in her positions and extension in making pictures on the ice from July in Lake Placid:

to November at Ice Challenge in Austria is so striking:

you're asking where they could improve, I think consistency - the best of what they've shown is really good, there's still a good bit of variation from outing to outing, which will improve with experience and training. That's true of any team to some degree, but for instance here's the same moment from Winnipeg last week-

though this example isn't on an element, it's a small example of control

here's the chart the judges use for GOE - this chart shows the +/- bullet points that they add up to get their final number. you're asking what Lily/Nathan can do on lifts - earlier in the season they weren't maintaining speed coming out of the curve lift, for example. breaks in flow and speed take you out of the music, and that's a big GOE criteria

P/C could be given high GOE in this system without complexity because they met the criteria for levels and could be awarded points for smoothness, flow, speed, or being "aesthetically pleasing," etc. This system weighs some pretty diverse points equally, and it also means you can be lacking in some areas and still get high marks if you tick enough other points.

Lily/Nathan and Lauriault/LeGac have nearly 20 pts between their scores this season, and L/LeG are skilled skaters who had the highest base value out of everybody in the RD's at both Skate America and Skate Canada-- Lily/Nathan pushing them doesn't seem realistic yet. But at Challenge, Lily/Nathan placed ahead of one of the teams who had a GP assignment above them (Lanaghan/Razgulajevs).

The other teams who were between them and L/LeG are Fabbri/Ayer, Haley/Nik, Soucisse/Firus. These teams have on average been scoring about 10-12 pts above Lily and Nathan internationally. It's feasible that they could get close or even, mayybe place above, if someone has an off day and they have a good one.

Lily and Nathan have already shown Skate Canada that they have potential and have built themselves a little momentum with their Challenger🥉 and Skate 🇨🇦Challenge🥈 which should get them better assignments next season. There can be a lag between when a team starts making an impression and when the judging reflects that, so it'll be interesting what happens at Nationals. Either way, it feels like they're on a rise