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riacte · 4 years

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HBomb watching Grian’s world tour.

It’s like 1h 30mins long with the commentary. Here’s some highlights lol. Keep in mind most of this is paraphrased :P

*seeing Grian has 61 eps* Hermitcraft is nuts. They are so invested and talented.”

“Did they makes little railing things to send messages to each other? That’s the cutest thing ever. It’s like when you’re living on treehouses with your next door neighbour.” OK HBOMB WAIT TILL YOU SEE THE SEASON WHEN REN AND FALSE LITERALLY LIVE IN THE SAME AREA.

Grian, about the mansion: It’s lacking soul

H: WHERE??

H FREAKING OUT ABT STRESS’S BUTTERFLIES

About Grian’s chest monsters: “I’m starting to realize me and Grian have a lot in common.”

“You can give villagers dragon heads?”

He was stunned into silence by Scar’s Big Dig. For like fifteen seconds. Just gaping.

About the Big Dig: that’s more work by Scar than we put into Dream SMP

AND YEAH HE HASN’T EVEN SEEN THE SHOPPING DISTRICT???

About Mumbo’s base: “This is so beautiful”

H said people really under appreciate Minecraft grass and leaves. YEAH HE’S ON TEAM HEP LMAO.

He smiled so much at Grian and Mumbo’s shenanigans lol.

He screamed “ISKALL!” the moment the Omega Tree came into view. And he proudly told chat “I KNOW THAT GUY!”

H legit made the POG face when he saw Stress’ base. “I thought they all lived super far from each other.” “I know Stress too!! She’s on Vault Hunters!”

“I wanna see more of the dragonflies”

“Renpog renpog renpog? That’s my MCC9 Teammate”

About Ren: “he’s nuts”

About Ren’s Darth Vader base: “this would take me a full year to build”

AND THEN REN SAID “<3 <3 <3” in chat

“We love Ren in this chat. Ren’s out of his mind.”

Now he said Ren put in more effort than everyone on DSMP except Sam.

Grian: I struggle with terraforming

H: I struggle with everything compared to the Hermitcrafters.”

“It’s so crazy!” H said while massaging his head.

“Mumbo Baggins.”

“I forgot about Keralis! I haven’t watched him in so long.”

H also stared at Keralis’ build for ten seconds just making the Pog face.

“I can’t tell how big that is. 30 blocks or 300.”

“I feel like there’s always 40 people on the server.” Good try, H. Lol.

Grian fell down Keralis’ hotel’s elevator chute but flew himself to safety. “Grian’s at 3 hearts. Thank God’s he’s so good with an elytra.”

H about graffiti: “Oh I love this”

H saw the Keralis Bee in front of X’s base and instantly made the same face.

Grian admitted he doesn’t watch his friends.

H: as a content creator, it’s very awkward to watch your friends. 100%.

He said Etho was the first MCYT he fanboyed over aaaa

About Etho’s base: ohh it’s so cool

“I love that the beacon is going through the end crystal!”

About Wel’s base:

Grian: I don’t think he’s on very much

H: that’s more than I built in my lifetime

H confusedly squinting and peering at Zedaph’s base lmaoo

About Tango’s base: “that looks straight out of a Doctor Suess novel. I LOVE IT. I LOVE THESE TWO (Tango and Impulse’s) BUILDINGS.”

About Impulse’s base: the quartz and water combined look really cool

Grian, about Impulse’s base: is this mega?

H: y e s

Grian: no

H: that thing is freaking huge. I’ll say that’s mega. That’s huge. It’s mega.

Grian: it’s not mega

H: it goes down the water IT’S MEGA

H ARGUING WITH GRIAN ABOUT MEGA

H stared at Tango’s base for fifteen secs. “I love it. I love it. Chat, have I ever told you I love it.”

“Did he make an iron farm with ravagers?!”

Grian: I don’t know what I’m doing with farms

H: I don’t know what I’m doing 24/7

LMAO BOTH H AND GRIAN BEING CONFUSED BY TANGO’S PEASHOOTER CREEPER FARM

HE RECOGNIZED FALSE’S BASE AYYYY

“She’s nuts, chat”

“When I raid False, I ask my chat to ask her to show her base because it’s so freaking cool”

Grian: is False’s base mega

Grian: this is juuuuust mega

H, screaming: JUST? I’m gonna throw hands with Grian

H: LET’S TALK. CHAT.

Then he proceeded to talk about False’s water at the bottom of her base and how she had to place water sources and blocks (chat told him she used ice, but hey it’s the thought that counts)

“That’s insane, chat!! It’s so cool!”

“I’m ready to throw hands with Grian.”

He wanted to win the mega argument with Grian lol. “Hbomb VS Grian.”

“I actually don’t know what Grian looks like irl. He might beat me up.”

H stared at Cleo’s armour stands. “OHH THAT’S SICK!”

“WHY IS SHE ABLE TO MAKE BETTER MINECRAFT CREATURES THAN MOJANG. EXPLAIN.”

“I’m still mad at you on the megabase thing. Other than that, we’re good.”

He watched False make the Nether hub on Twitch.

Grian: X made this Nether build-

H: X gonna give it to ya

“Ren and False are just built differently.”

H’s face legit froze when he saw Cub’s base. And he bellowed “WHY?!”

H: size matters

“Link’s ready to throw hands with Grian” (Link is H’s dog)

“He managed to make our Targay look absolutely irrelevant.”

“Do you think they’ll let me on to play with them? Just for like, twenty minutes? 🥺👉👈”

“THAT IS DOPE!!”

“Walls made out of ancient debris. Jesus Christ. WHY?!”

Pomo, donation: impulse once raised his base by one block bcz he thought it looked better

H: oh no

“Imagine there was an ancient debris wall on the Dream SMP, chat. It would be there for an hour. Maybe two. Maybe.”

“Doc was another Minecracker”

He was so relieved when he saw Joe’s stuff lol. Since people can be “normal”.

About Mt. Goatmore: OHH THAT’S DOPE!

He went to a Bdubs meet up when he was in college. And had a photo and autograph of Bdubs and Gen.

“Yo that cliff is dope”

About Bdubs’ castle: I won’t be surprised if he used diamond blocks.

“I love how Bdubs use the nether wood trapdoors.”

He loved the anvil droppers thing and said he’s gonna steal the idea. He also mentioned Beef and Mindcrack.

H is such a HC stan now lol. AND HE WANTS TO PLAY THE HC MINIGAMES. PLEASE LET THE MAN ON. Also he’s gonna vibe so well with Grian. Not only do they have similar views in MCC but also in a lot of other things (don’t watch their friends, chest monsters, etc).

#hermitcraft #hbomb94 #mcyt #ria.txt #would tag more #but im tired

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weyheyjxlya · 4 years

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Ｋｅｋｋｏｎ　バ花メ

*•.¸♡ pairing: kita shinsuke x reader *•.¸♡ genre: fluff | farmer!kita au *•.¸♡ a/n: made one out of simp nights hahaha father my children kita listen to the music linked in the lyrics while reading this hehe :3 forgot to tell u guys that kekkon is “marriage” in japanese (quite unsure HAHAHA)

“cause it's you that I dream of the one who gives me love you’re the one I always believed in you are the one who answers my question you’re my inspiration and it's you you’re the one I’m thinking of”

"How bout you marry into this family Y/N?" Kita's grandmother suggested as the two of you are making dinner while waiting for Kita and others finish up their business at the farm "You like it here dear, right?" added by your grandmother who's helping with cutting vegetables. As the word "marry" got its way onto you. Without hesitation, you run. You ran from the thought that you'll be leaving city life. You ran from the thought that you'll be leaving that kingly routine that you've had and will now have a sophisticated routine for your daily life. And you ran from the thought that you'll be marrying your childhood friend, Kita Shinsuke

"Ouch" you squealed as you stumbled upon a rock that you haven't noticed since you've been running for your whole life from Kita who's been playing tag with you for a while now.

~~ Kita Shinsuke. That composed kid that you've met over the time that your grandmother brought you to her best friend's home for a visit. It's the Kita household. Everything's so sophisticated. Right from its ornaments, furniture, etc. Everything's seemed so refined that it wrapped warmth around your heart. It's welcoming and you like it. This visit of yours from the city, you love it very dearly. But there's one thing that you just can't put your hands on. He's emotionless but he goes by the principles. He's not like a normal kid because he's so knowledgeable about cleaning, courtesy, and physical conditioning. As a kid, you thought that this kid is not in the right age. "He must've been older, I think" "He just shrunk back into a child's body but he's older" "This kid is a robot." You've always thought to yourself when you first met him. But when you got bored, you snuck out of the house to check its garden to see if there's something to pass the time with. To your surprise, the robot kid was there. Smiling upon the butterflies that have been flying around the garden. The scenery is picturesque. The subtle sun rays hitting his face like art. Right at that moment, you've had your first crush as a child. Suddenly, without you noticing, your body moved its own and is now holding this boy's face because you've been admiring it since. Now the boy's face is back to its original state. Stoic. Urgh, you've ruined it. But to neutralize the moment you spontaneously asked this kid to play tag with you. And to your surprise, he agreed.

~~ "Oh did someone got injured?" Kita's grandmother asked "Yes and grandma, could you please hand me the first aid kit?" Kita instinctively asked. He's calm but you can see his worry and a timid trembling of his hands while dressing your wounds. He really is still a child. He did not shrink. He's not a robot, he can feel things. "You're really such a klutz Y/N." teased by your grandmother which you just rolled your eyes with then starts putting back your gaze to this boy who's still dressing your wounds. "But you gotta say goodbye now to your first love, Shinsuke. We'll be leaving in 30 minutes." your grandma teased again as you felt heat upon your ears out of embarrassment and disbelief that your grandmother knows. Girl's instincts it is. "It's done now. P-please take care of it afterward and regularly change y-yer wounds dressing." mini Kita said while stuttering. His head is now directed to the floor. While looking further to the sudden change. You saw his cheeks down to his ears. It's flushed red. But as a kid, you don't know what that is. Leaving the Kita household is sad but it surely left a whole mark in your heart. Its warmth and welcoming presence and that boy, Kita Shinsuke. Hopefully, as a kid, you wished that you could go back there and marry him.

14 years passed. Due to stress in the city and it got noticed by your grandmother. She asked you to come with her for a week to help her best friend back in Hyogo for some harvest. "Ahh, farming. I got an opportunity to be farming," you've thought to yourself sweetly. You've got yourself a breather. So without hesitation, you giddily agreed to your grandmother. Going back to Hyogo, Kita fetched you both at the station. Kita assisted you throughout the vacation. He had been helpful ever since. When you're in distress with something, he'll come up saving and helping you get by. He hasn't changed a little. He's still the same as the boy that you've liked 14 years ago. But one thing changed, he's a man now. With muscular shoulders, a height that's way taller than you, with a refined face that you awe so much. This man, he really is a refined one compared to guys in the city and you fell in love with him over again. This vacation wouldn't be this perfect if it wasn't for him.

"So your grandma’s staying over and you’re leaving tomorrow, right dear? May I ask, do you like it here Y/N-san?" his grandmother asked "Yes, obaa-chan!! Very much!! The kindness from people, unity, and food. Oh so great!" you've answered enthusiastically. "How bout you marry into this family Y/N? Live with Shinsuke." Kita's grandmother suggested as the two of you are making dinner while waiting for Kita and others finish up their business at the farm "You like it here dear, right?" added by your grandmother who's helping with cutting vegetables. "Please consider it Y/N-san. We'd love you staying here. Even the community loves you." "But how about Shinsuke-kun?" your grandmother asked "Just say these things to him and you'll get the answer," his grandmother giggled "Take your time considering this offer Y/N-san," she added calmly You haven't uttered a word as the word "marry" sunk its way onto you. Without hesitation, you run out of the house. You ran from the thought that you'll be leaving city life. You ran from the thought that you'll be leaving that kingly routine that you've had and will now have a sophisticated routine for your daily life. And you ran from the thought that you'll be marrying your childhood friend, Kita Shinsuke. You wished you could've said yes properly just like in the movies. But the responsibilities back in the city. You have fallen in love with this place. Now that you've received the news that the community also loves you, you've fallen head over heels now. But the thing is how? "Can I fit into this town?"

"Can I also be a refined individual in this town?"

"Can I get used to this life that's away from the city?"

"Can I be a good mother of the house?"

"Can I be a good and perfect person to stand by Kita's side for life's eternity?" Anxious and insecure. You've become paranoid about the things that have been worrying you thinking that it's a lot to take in one sitting. So you just ran until you stumbled upon a rock and fell. "Ouch, what a good timing rock!" you've exclaimed and soon, you've heard steps nearing you. As you looked up, you saw Kita, running towards you and held your hands to help you get up from your little accident. "Are you fine Y/N-san? Are you hurt? What are you doing outside? Did something happen? Why are you crying? You're leaving tomorrow and you're like this?" Kita asked as he wiped your tears from your cheeks as you aren't able to because your hands are dirty. Without noticing, you pulled him to your embrace. Tightly but bearable for him. He's quite shocked by your sudden movement but he reciprocated. He also wrapped your frame with his arms and is now gently patting your back as you cry your tears out. "Everything's gonna be fine in your case," he mumbled in your hair. His presence calmed your very soul down. All your worries have subsided down within his hold. This man deserves the world. "Ha, this is somewhat like a deja vu." you chuckled as you peeled yourself off of him. "You picked me up again as soon as I fell and treated me until I'm better," you added shyly Your heart fluttered as you hear his mini chuckle in response to what you've said. "No matter what goes on, near or far, just remember I'll always be here for ya Y/N-san. I will do my best to help yer with the best that I can." he calmly said with a beautiful grin spread around his face that made you in awe again. "Thank you Kita-san. Let's go back, shall we? They might be worried by now," you've said "Okay, come on let me help you" he offered as you walk back to their house with the night's still young and a tranquil atmosphere lingering between the both of you like it's some safe space for you.

"Are you sure you've got everything with you? I can fetch it up for you." Kita exclaimed "Nope, everything's here," you answered as Kita nodded with your sure response. "Please consider what I've said Y/N-san. I hope for your wonderful response when you return to fetch your grandmother." his grandmother mumbled "Yes obaa-chan," you've answered collectively "May I ask what is that?" Kita asked. "That's our secret Shinsuke-kun," his grandmother giggled "Hmm, something was strange last night Okay, so we'll see you in like three weeks then?" Kita asked "Yes Kita-san, see you," you replied as you gently bowed down to show your gratitude to their family. "Shinsuke would be fine Y/N-san" he cooed You chuckled as you give your thanks to them more and bid farewell as you turn your back as the train stood still in front of you. Fifteen minutes went by and you've realized that you've been better. You can never compare to anything that you've experienced in this place. The place that's like a scenery out of art. The wind that takes your worries away with them. Your time with the community that's so well spent. The time that you've spent with Shinsuke was like the world's best gift for you. And Shinsuke? you've realized that he's like God's tailored gift for you. Kita Shinsuke. You love him and you can't imagine a future without him. Even though he deserves the best in the world, you're now willing to do your best to give it to him. A wonderful life, a wonderful child, a wonderful wife and family that may be imperfect but will do its best, and a wonderful future that no one can ever imagine. You're now willing to do it. You now want to stay here and have this wonderful life and to marry Shinsuke. Luckily the next train stop was like a minute away. Without any wasted moment, you hurriedly got on to the train that’s going back to where you came from and contacted Kita to fetch you and you have something to say.

"So what made you come back Y/N-san?" Kita asked while catching up his breath as he hurried his way back to you. "I've realized something." you've declared with your eyes shimmering like daylight stars "Your grandmother asked me to stay here and live with you Kita-san." "What?" he answered with an indescribable expression that you can't decipher because he's most frequently expressionless. This is kinda new to you and it even pushed your eagerness to know more. "Yes, what you've heard is right and I want to marry you Kita-san. Wait no, I want to stay by your side and build a family in this lovely town with you Shinsuke. I love you, will you marry me?" Nervousness crept its way when Kita just nodded and just directly looked down the floor for quite a while but it exhilarated its way when you've heard sniffles from Kita. He's crying? this is odd Suddenly, you've almost died from shock when Kita pulled you into a hug as he completely embraces you and is now kissing the crown of your head. So he's happy, I'm so glad. "Y/N-san, thank you. I'm so glad. Receiving these words from my first love is like the best gift that the Gods have given me. This is indescribable. Thank you Y/N. I love you too and marry me. No take-backs, okay?" Shinsuke surprisingly exclaimed Locking his eyes onto yours, he pulled you by the waist and he gently cupped your cheeks as he went to kiss you slowly as time stopped itself for the both of you. This is the gift that you can never share with anybody. This is perfect. "I can't wait to marry you Shinsuke," you've said as both of you pulled back but with your foreheads sticking together "Me too Y/N, I love you." Kita cooed lovingly as he grabbed your things to help you travel back to their house to deliver this wonderful news to your grandmothers.

*•.¸♡ taglist ♡¸.•* @maviiiiic @keiyoomi luv u peeps omg <3

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hello-robin-goodfellow · 4 years

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Bone

A lengthy independent comic book series by Jeff Smith that took 13 years to complete, mixing the sensibilities of a joke-of-the-day comic strip like Pogo with the sweeping story of an epic fantasy à la The Lord of the Rings. Jeff self-published the series in its original run, collecting the issues in groups of six or so in nine total volumes, until Image Comics picked it up for a time. A second printing came under Scholastic, Inc., for which Jeff's friend Steve Hamaker colored each and every page. The series eventually won several Eisner Awards and Harvey Awards, and propelled Jeff Smith into immense independent comic book acclaim.

It tells the story of three cousins, who happen to look like humanoid, bone-shaped Cartoon Creatures. They are exiled from their town called Boneville and become lost in a Magical Land called the Valley, where they meet an energetic old lady (Gran'ma Ben) and her beautiful grand-daughter (Thorn). Together, they're caught up in intrigue, magic, and adventure.

Characters

The Bone Cousins

Fone Bone: The main protagonist. Fone Bone is the most dependable, resourceful and most moral of the Bone cousins, and tends to be viewed as the "good" Bone since he's never involved in any of Phoney's moneymaking schemes. He's polite and friendly, and pretty good at thinking on his feet in a crisis. He has a huge crush on Thorn, but has problems telling her about it.

Phoncible "Phoney" P. Bone: Previously the "richest Bone in Boneville"; Phoney is a greedy, hotheaded schemer who always has a new plan for making money. The problem with his plans is that they tend to backfire and end with him being chased off by an angry mob.

Smiley Bone: The most happy-go-lucky of the cousins. Smiley is a friendly and loyal guy, but rather short on brains and not the most adept at telling right from wrong, which is why he so often lets himself get involved in Phoney's schemes. He pretty much adopts Bartleby the Rat Creature cub.

Friends and Allys

Thorn: Thorn was the titular character of the comic's earliest incarnation, and even now can be said to be the real protagonist of the series. She is a young girl on the verge of adulthood, who can talk to animals and who befriends the Bone cousins when they are lost in the valley.

Rose "Gran'ma Ben": Gran'ma Ben has the strength of ten elephants and can outrun any cow in the valley. She has lived peacefully with her granddaughter Thorn on a small farm for fifteen years, after the "big war".

Lucius Down: The owner of the Barrelhaven Tavern, he's a gruff and temperamental but ultimately kind-hearted old man, whom everyone knows has been "sweet on" Gran'ma Ben for decades. He's a constant foil to Phoney Bone and has ruined more than one of Phoney's moneymaking schemes.

Ted The Bug: Ted is a tiny little insect with a knack for "gettin' while the gettin's good." Nevertheless, despite his diminutive size he's helpful and surprisingly resourceful, and somehow he always seems to know everything that's going on.

The Great Red Dragon: The mysterious protector of Thorn and Fone Bone, and a master of last-minute rescues. He's a laid-back and lazy sort who at first glance doesn't seem very formidable, but he has a number of strange powers and is feared by the Rat Creatures.

Bartleby: A Rat Creature cub that ran off from the other rats and befriended Fone Bone and Smiley.

The Possums: A family of possums — Miz Possum and her three kids — that Fone Bone meets during his first winter in the valley, and who show up sporadically to help him out.

Roderick: A baby racoon whose parents were eaten by Rat Creatures. Plays a minor part in Bone, but is one of the main characters in Quest for the Spark.

The Orphans: Roderick's friends; a group of young animals in the same situation as him.

Jonathan Oaks: Lucius's assistant at Barrelhaven. He's a young and affable guy, though not terribly bright.

The Villagers: The human inhabitants of Barrelhaven village; usually peaceful enough, but in general rather small-minded, xenophobic, and easily led. The most commonly seen are Wendell the tinsmith and Euclid the farmer.

The Disciples of Venu: Also known as the "Veni-Yan" or, more insultingly, "stick-eaters," they are a group of hooded monks who have dedicated themselves to the study of the Dreaming. They were once the elite warriors of the kingdom of Atheia, but after the war they have the reputation as wandering beggars.

Taneal: A little girl who lives in Atheia; she's a young priestess and shrine-builder who tries her best to keep the faith of Venu going even after it was outlawed.

Taneal's brother: Never actually named in the comic, but he's Taneal's older brother. Smart and resourceful, he knows everyone in Atheia, especially who to bribe in order to get your way.

Teacher: Gran'ma Ben's old teacher; he's an old and somewhat cantankerous old man who runs a small rooftop kitchen and is... not as good a chef as he thinks he is.

Headmaster: The head of the Diciples of Venu and possibly the oldest human character in the comic.

Mermie: A seventh-level "dreaming master" and steadfast alley of Gran'ma Ben.

Villains

The Lord of the Locusts: A nightmare spirit who long ago wanted to escape from dreams and experience the waking world, which he attempted by possessing Mim, the Dragon Queen. He was defeated and imprisoned by the other dragons, but is still able to contact and influence dreamers in the waking world, plotting to be free once more.

The Hooded One: A mysterious hooded figure who's the highest servant of the Lord of the Locust. Spends the first two-thirds of the story preparing for war, and looking for "the one who bears the star," who will aid in freeing the Lord of the Locusts.

Kingdok: The King of the Rat Creatures; a brutish and vicious monster who nevertheless is basically only a puppet for the Hooded One and the Lord of the Locusts.

Rat Creatures: Rat Creatures are the resident monsters of the valley; they're strong and bloodthirsty predators but also incredibly stupid. Encountered in ones or twos they're more comical than scary, but in large numbers they're terrifying. There are thousands of Rat Creatures, but two of them — a duo of foot soldiers — play fairly large roles in the story as Ineffectual Sympathetic Villains who in Quest for the Spark end up having a Heel–Face Turn (as well as getting their own names, "Smelly" and "Stinky.")

Roque Ja: The "Master of the Eastern Border." Roque Ja (and not, as he will constantly remind you, "Rock Jaw") is a gigantic mountain lion who initially sides with the Hooded One and the Rat Creatures because he hates them slightly less than he hates the dragons they oppose.

Lord Tarsil: A former Veni-Yan warrior and ruler of Atheia. He hates dragons with a passion and has outlawed all "worship" of them, including the old religion.

The Vedu: The sect that Tarsil formed; an off-shoot of the Diciples of Venu who follows different teachings and act more like bullies than protectors.

An Animated Adaptation has been in Development Hell for several years. In the '90s, Nickelodeon Movies, having just released the hit film The Rugrats Movie, had an alarmingly misguided vision of what they wanted it to be, and Jeff was the one who bailed out of the deal. The rights were then held by Warner Bros., and the reports on the production team were that Animal Logic, the studio behind Happy Feet and The Matrix, would animate, P.J. Hogan (My Best Friend's Wedding, Confessions of a Shopaholic, the 2003 live-action Peter Pan) would direct, and it would be adapted for the screen by Patrick Sean Smith (ABC Family's Greek). In 2016, Mark Osborne (Kung Fu Panda, The Little Prince) became the new director, while he and Adam Kline replaced Patrick Sean Smith as the screenwriters.

Jeff was initially fighting for traditional 2D animation, since he used to run his own animation studio called Character Builders that contributed to films like Space Jam, and was the studio that was originally slated to animate the film. According to the interview above, Jeff is fine with the change because the outcome of the movie is not in his control, even though he will have executive-producing credit. He STILL remembers his original preference, though, and fans continue to prove this. However, it was not to be. After several years with little progress made (and no release date appearing on Warner Bros.' slate of upcoming animated movies) the rights to adapt the comic went up for sale again.

In 2019, Netflix secured the rights to the franchise with plans to adapt the comic into an animated series. Time will tell if they are successful.

#bone #jeff smith #comic books #fantasy #comics #genre fiction #ideas #inspiration

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thegreatantonchekhov · 4 years

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The Man In A Case

By Anton Chekhov

Translated by Constance Garnett

“Ah, freedom, freedom! The merest hint, the faintest hope of its possibility gives wings to the soul, does it not?”

AT the furthest end of the village of Mironositskoe some belated sportsmen lodged for the night in the elder Prokofy’s barn. There were two of them, the veterinary surgeon Ivan Ivanovitch and the schoolmaster Burkin. Ivan Ivanovitch had a rather strange double-barrelled surname -- Tchimsha-Himalaisky -- which did not suit him at all, and he was called simply Ivan Ivanovitch all over the province. He lived at a stud-farm near the town, and had come out shooting now to get a breath of fresh air. Burkin, the high-school teacher, stayed every summer at Count P-----’s, and had been thoroughly at home in this district for years.

They did not sleep. Ivan Ivanovitch, a tall, lean old fellow with long moustaches, was sitting outside the door, smoking a pipe in the moonlight. Burkin was lying within on the hay, and could not be seen in the darkness.

They were telling each other all sorts of stories. Among other things, they spoke of the fact that the elder’s wife, Mavra, a healthy and by no means stupid woman, had never been beyond her native village, had never seen a town nor a railway in her life, and had spent the last ten years sitting behind the stove, and only at night going out into the street.

“What is there wonderful in that!” said Burkin. “There are plenty of people in the world, solitary by temperament, who try to retreat into their shell like a hermit crab or a snail. Perhaps it is an instance of atavism, a return to the period when the ancestor of man was not yet a social animal and lived alone in his den, or perhaps it is only one of the diversities of human character -- who knows? I am not a natural science man, and it is not my business to settle such questions; I only mean to say that people like Mavra are not uncommon. There is no need to look far; two months ago a man called Byelikov, a colleague of mine, the Greek master, died in our town. You have heard of him, no doubt. He was remarkable for always wearing goloshes and a warm wadded coat, and carrying an umbrella even in the very finest weather. And his umbrella was in a case, and his watch was in a case made of grey chamois leather, and when he took out his penknife to sharpen his pencil, his penknife, too, was in a little case; and his face seemed to be in a case too, because he always hid it in his turned-up collar. He wore dark spectacles and flannel vests, stuffed up his ears with cotton-wool, and when he got into a cab always told the driver to put up the hood. In short, the man displayed a constant and insurmountable impulse to wrap himself in a covering, to make himself, so to speak, a case which would isolate him and protect him from external influences. Reality irritated him, frightened him, kept him in continual agitation, and, perhaps to justify his timidity, his aversion for the actual, he always praised the past and what had never existed; and even the classical languages which he taught were in reality for him goloshes and umbrellas in which he sheltered himself from real life.

“ ‘Oh, how sonorous, how beautiful is the Greek language!’ he would say, with a sugary expression; and as though to prove his words he would screw up his eyes and, raising his finger, would pronounce ‘Anthropos!’

“And Byelikov tried to hide his thoughts also in a case. The only things that were clear to his mind were government circulars and newspaper articles in which something was forbidden. When some proclamation prohibited the boys from going out in the streets after nine o’clock in the evening, or some article declared carnal love unlawful, it was to his mind clear and definite; it was forbidden, and that was enough. For him there was always a doubtful element, something vague and not fully expressed, in any sanction or permission. When a dramatic club or a reading-room or a tea-shop was licensed in the town, he would shake his head and say softly:

“It is all right, of course; it is all very nice, but I hope it won’t lead to anything!”

“Every sort of breach of order, deviation or departure from rule, depressed him, though one would have thought it was no business of his. If one of his colleagues was late for church or if rumours reached him of some prank of the high-school boys, or one of the mistresses was seen late in the evening in the company of an officer, he was much disturbed, and said he hoped that nothing would come of it. At the teachers’ meetings he simply oppressed us with his caution, his circumspection, and his characteristic reflection on the ill-behaviour of the young people in both male and female high-schools, the uproar in the classes.

“Oh, he hoped it would not reach the ears of the authorities; oh, he hoped nothing would come of it; and he thought it would be a very good thing if Petrov were expelled from the second class and Yegorov from the fourth. And, do you know, by his sighs, his despondency, his black spectacles on his pale little face, a little face like a pole-cat’s, you know, he crushed us all, and we gave way, reduced Petrov’s and Yegorov’s marks for conduct, kept them in, and in the end expelled them both. He had a strange habit of visiting our lodgings. He would come to a teacher’s, would sit down, and remain silent, as though he were carefully inspecting something. He would sit like this in silence for an hour or two and then go away. This he called ‘maintaining good relations with his colleagues’; and it was obvious that coming to see us and sitting there was tiresome to him, and that he came to see us simply because he considered it his duty as our colleague. We teachers were afraid of him. And even the headmaster was afraid of him. Would you believe it, our teachers were all intellectual, right-minded people, brought up on Turgenev and Shtchedrin, yet this little chap, who always went about with goloshes and an umbrella, had the whole high-school under his thumb for fifteen long years! High-school, indeed -- he had the whole town under his thumb! Our ladies did not get up private theatricals on Saturdays for fear he should hear of it, and the clergy dared not eat meat or play cards in his presence. Under the influence of people like Byelikov we have got into the way of being afraid of everything in our town for the last ten or fifteen years. They are afraid to speak aloud, afraid to send letters, afraid to make acquaintances, afraid to read books, afraid to help the poor, to teach people to read and write. . . .”

Ivan Ivanovitch cleared his throat, meaning to say something, but first lighted his pipe, gazed at the moon, and then said, with pauses:

“Yes, intellectual, right minded people read Shtchedrin and Turgenev, Buckle, and all the rest of them, yet they knocked under and put up with it. . . that’s just how it is.”

“Byelikov lived in the same house as I did,” Burkin went on, “on the same storey, his door facing mine; we often saw each other, and I knew how he lived when he was at home. And at home it was the same story: dressing-gown, nightcap, blinds, bolts, a perfect succession of prohibitions and restrictions of all sorts, and --’Oh, I hope nothing will come of it!’ Lenten fare was bad for him, yet he could not eat meat, as people might perhaps say Byelikov did not keep the fasts, and he ate freshwater fish with butter -- not a Lenten dish, yet one could not say that it was meat. He did not keep a female servant for fear people might think evil of him, but had as cook an old man of sixty, called Afanasy, half-witted and given to tippling, who had once been an officer’s servant and could cook after a fashion. This Afanasy was usually standing at the door with his arms folded; with a deep sigh, he would mutter always the same thing:

“ ‘There are plenty of them about nowadays!’

“Byelikov had a little bedroom like a box; his bed had curtains. When he went to bed he covered his head over; it was hot and stuffy; the wind battered on the closed doors; there was a droning noise in the stove and a sound of sighs from the kitchen -- ominous sighs. . . . And he felt frightened under the bed-clothes. He was afraid that something might happen, that Afanasy might murder him, that thieves might break in, and so he had troubled dreams all night, and in the morning, when we went together to the high-school, he was depressed and pale, and it was evident that the high-school full of people excited dread and aversion in his whole being, and that to walk beside me was irksome to a man of his solitary temperament.

“ ‘They make a great noise in our classes,’ he used to say, as though trying to find an explanation for his depression. ‘It’s beyond anything.’

“And the Greek master, this man in a case -- would you believe it? -- almost got married.”

Ivan Ivanovitch glanced quickly into the barn, and said:

“You are joking!”

“Yes, strange as it seems, he almost got married. A new teacher of history and geography, Milhail Savvitch Kovalenko, a Little Russian, was appointed. He came, not alone, but with his sister Varinka. He was a tall, dark young man with huge hands, and one could see from his face that he had a bass voice, and, in fact, he had a voice that seemed to come out of a barrel -- ‘boom, boom, boom!’ And she was not so young, about thirty, but she, too, was tall, well-made, with black eyebrows and red cheeks -- in fact, she was a regular sugar-plum, and so sprightly, so noisy; she was always singing Little Russian songs and laughing. For the least thing she would go off into a ringing laugh -- ‘Ha-ha-ha!’ We made our first thorough acquaintance with the Kovalenkos at the headmaster’s name-day party. Among the glum and intensely bored teachers who came even to the name-day party as a duty we suddenly saw a new Aphrodite risen from the waves; she walked with her arms akimbo, laughed, sang, danced. . . . She sang with feeling ‘The Winds do Blow,’ then another song, and another, and she fascinated us all -- all, even Byelikov. He sat down by her and said with a honeyed smile:

“ ‘The Little Russian reminds one of the ancient Greek in its softness and agreeable resonance.’

“That flattered her, and she began telling him with feeling and earnestness that they had a farm in the Gadyatchsky district, and that her mamma lived at the farm, and that they had such pears, such melons, such kabaks! The Little Russians call pumpkins kabaks (i.e., pothouses), while their pothouses they call shinki, and they make a beetroot soup with tomatoes and aubergines in it, ‘which was so nice -- awfully nice!’

“We listened and listened, and suddenly the same idea dawned upon us all:

“ ‘It would be a good thing to make a match of it,’ the headmaster’s wife said to me softly.

“We all for some reason recalled the fact that our friend Byelikov was not married, and it now seemed to us strange that we had hitherto failed to observe, and had in fact completely lost sight of, a detail so important in his life. What was his attitude to woman? How had he settled this vital question for himself? This had not interested us in the least till then; perhaps we had not even admitted the idea that a man who went out in all weathers in goloshes and slept under curtains could be in love.

“ ‘He is a good deal over forty and she is thirty,’ the headmaster’s wife went on, developing her idea. ‘I believe she would marry him.’

“All sorts of things are done in the provinces through boredom, all sorts of unnecessary and nonsensical things! And that is because what is necessary is not done at all. What need was there for instance, for us to make a match for this Byelikov, whom one could not even imagine married? The headmaster’s wife, the inspector’s wife, and all our high-school ladies, grew livelier and even better-looking, as though they had suddenly found a new object in life. The headmaster’s wife would take a box at the theatre, and we beheld sitting in her box Varinka, with such a fan, beaming and happy, and beside her Byelikov, a little bent figure, looking as though he had been extracted from his house by pincers. I would give an evening party, and the ladies would insist on my inviting Byelikov and Varinka. In short, the machine was set in motion. It appeared that Varinka was not averse to matrimony. She had not a very cheerful life with her brother; they could do nothing but quarrel and scold one another from morning till night. Here is a scene, for instance. Kovalenko would be coming along the street, a tall, sturdy young ruffian, in an embroidered shirt, his love-locks falling on his forehead under his cap, in one hand a bundle of books, in the other a thick knotted stick, followed by his sister, also with books in her hand.

“ ‘But you haven’t read it, Mihalik!’ she would be arguing loudly. ‘I tell you, I swear you have not read it at all!’

“ ‘And I tell you I have read it,’ cries Kovalenko, thumping his stick on the pavement.

“ ‘Oh, my goodness, Mihalik! why are you so cross? We are arguing about principles.’

“ ‘I tell you that I have read it!’ Kovalenko would shout, more loudly than ever.

“And at home, if there was an outsider present, there was sure to be a skirmish. Such a life must have been wearisome, and of course she must have longed for a home of her own. Besides, there was her age to be considered; there was no time left to pick and choose; it was a case of marrying anybody, even a Greek master. And, indeed, most of our young ladies don’t mind whom they marry so long as they do get married. However that may be, Varinka began to show an unmistakable partiality for Byelikov.

“And Byelikov? He used to visit Kovalenko just as he did us. He would arrive, sit down, and remain silent. He would sit quiet, and Varinka would sing to him ‘The Winds do Blow,’ or would look pensively at him with her dark eyes, or would suddenly go off into a peal -- ‘Ha-ha-ha!’

“Suggestion plays a great part in love affairs, and still more in getting married. Everybody -- both his colleagues and the ladies -- began assuring Byelikov that he ought to get married, that there was nothing left for him in life but to get married; we all congratulated him, with solemn countenances delivered ourselves of various platitudes, such as ‘Marriage is a serious step.’ Besides, Varinka was good-looking and interesting; she was the daughter of a civil councillor, and had a farm; and what was more, she was the first woman who had been warm and friendly in her manner to him. His head was turned, and he decided that he really ought to get married.”

“Well, at that point you ought to have taken away his goloshes and umbrella,” said Ivan Ivanovitch.

“Only fancy! that turned out to be impossible. He put Varinka’s portrait on his table, kept coming to see me and talking about Varinka, and home life, saying marriage was a serious step. He was frequently at Kovalenko’s, but he did not alter his manner of life in the least; on the contrary, indeed, his determination to get married seemed to have a depressing effect on him. He grew thinner and paler, and seemed to retreat further and further into his case.

“ ‘I like Varvara Savvishna,’ he used to say to me, with a faint and wry smile, ‘and I know that every one ought to get married, but . . . you know all this has happened so suddenly. . . . One must think a little.’

“ ‘What is there to think over?’ I used to say to him. ‘Get married -- that is all.’

“ ‘No; marriage is a serious step. One must first weigh the duties before one, the responsibilities . . . that nothing may go wrong afterwards. It worries me so much that I don’t sleep at night. And I must confess I am afraid: her brother and she have a strange way of thinking; they look at things strangely, you know, and her disposition is very impetuous. One may get married, and then, there is no knowing, one may find oneself in an unpleasant position.’

“And he did not make an offer; he kept putting it off, to the great vexation of the headmaster’s wife and all our ladies; he went on weighing his future duties and responsibilities, and meanwhile he went for a walk with Varinka almost every day -- possibly he thought that this was necessary in his position -- and came to see me to talk about family life. And in all probability in the end he would have proposed to her, and would have made one of those unnecessary, stupid marriages such as are made by thousands among us from being bored and having nothing to do, if it had not been for a kolossalische scandal. I must mention that Varinka’s brother, Kovalenko, detested Byelikov from the first day of their acquaintance, and could not endure him.

“ ‘I don’t understand,’ he used to say to us, shrugging his shoulders --’I don’t understand how you can put up with that sneak, that nasty phiz. Ugh! how can you live here! The atmosphere is stifling and unclean! Do you call yourselves schoolmasters, teachers? You are paltry government clerks. You keep, not a temple of science, but a department for red tape and loyal behaviour, and it smells as sour as a police-station. No, my friends; I will stay with you for a while, and then I will go to my farm and there catch crabs and teach the Little Russians. I shall go, and you can stay here with your Judas -- damn his soul!’

“Or he would laugh till he cried, first in a loud bass, then in a shrill, thin laugh, and ask me, waving his hands:

“ ‘What does he sit here for? What does he want? He sits and stares.’

“He even gave Byelikov a nickname, ‘The Spider.’ And it will readily be understood that we avoided talking to him of his sister’s being about to marry ‘The Spider.’

“And on one occasion, when the headmaster’s wife hinted to him what a good thing it would be to secure his sister’s future with such a reliable, universally respected man as Byelikov, he frowned and muttered:

“ ‘It’s not my business; let her marry a reptile if she likes. I don’t like meddling in other people’s affairs.’

“Now hear what happened next. Some mischievous person drew a caricature of Byelikov walking along in his goloshes with his trousers tucked up, under his umbrella, with Varinka on his arm; below, the inscription ‘Anthropos in love.’ The expression was caught to a marvel, you know. The artist must have worked for more than one night, for the teachers of both the boys’ and girls’ high-schools, the teachers of the seminary, the government officials, all received a copy. Byelikov received one, too. The caricature made a very painful impression on him.

“We went out together; it was the first of May, a Sunday, and all of us, the boys and the teachers, had agreed to meet at the high-school and then to go for a walk together to a wood beyond the town. We set off, and he was green in the face and gloomier than a storm-cloud.

‘What wicked, ill-natured people there are!’ he said, and his lips quivered.

“I felt really sorry for him. We were walking along, and all of a sudden -- would you believe it? -- Kovalenko came bowling along on a bicycle, and after him, also on a bicycle, Varinka, flushed and exhausted, but good-humoured and gay.

“ ‘We are going on ahead,’ she called. ‘What lovely weather! Awfully lovely!’

“And they both disappeared from our sight. Byelikov turned white instead of green, and seemed petrified. He stopped short and stared at me. . . .

“ ‘What is the meaning of it? Tell me, please!’ he asked. ‘Can my eyes have deceived me? Is it the proper thing for high-school masters and ladies to ride bicycles?’

“ ‘What is there improper about it?’ I said. ‘Let them ride and enjoy themselves.’

“ ‘But how can that be?’ he cried, amazed at my calm. ‘What are you saying?’

“And he was so shocked that he was unwilling to go on, and returned home.

“Next day he was continually twitching and nervously rubbing his hands, and it was evident from his face that he was unwell. And he left before his work was over, for the first time in his life. And he ate no dinner. Towards evening he wrapped himself up warmly, though it was quite warm weather, and sallied out to the Kovalenkos’. Varinka was out; he found her brother, however.

“ ‘Pray sit down,’ Kovalenko said coldly, with a frown. His face looked sleepy; he had just had a nap after dinner, and was in a very bad humour.

“Byelikov sat in silence for ten minutes, and then began:

“ ‘I have come to see you to relieve my mind. I am very, very much troubled. Some scurrilous fellow has drawn an absurd caricature of me and another person, in whom we are both deeply interested. I regard it as a duty to assure you that I have had no hand in it. . . . I have given no sort of ground for such ridicule -- on the contrary, I have always behaved in every way like a gentleman.’

“Kovalenko sat sulky and silent. Byelikov waited a little, and went on slowly in a mournful voice:

“ ‘And I have something else to say to you. I have been in the service for years, while you have only lately entered it, and I consider it my duty as an older colleague to give you a warning. You ride on a bicycle, and that pastime is utterly unsuitable for an educator of youth.’

“ ‘Why so?’ asked Kovalenko in his bass.

“ ‘Surely that needs no explanation, Mihail Savvitch -- surely you can understand that? If the teacher rides a bicycle, what can you expect the pupils to do? You will have them walking on their heads next! And so long as there is no formal permission to do so, it is out of the question. I was horrified yesterday! When I saw your sister everything seemed dancing before my eyes. A lady or a young girl on a bicycle -- it’s awful!’

“ ‘What is it you want exactly?’

“ ‘All I want is to warn you, Mihail Savvitch. You are a young man, you have a future before you, you must be very, very careful in your behaviour, and you are so careless -- oh, so careless! You go about in an embroidered shirt, are constantly seen in the street carrying books, and now the bicycle, too. The headmaster will learn that you and your sister ride the bicycle, and then it will reach the higher authorities. . . . Will that be a good thing?’

“ ‘It’s no business of anybody else if my sister and I do bicycle!’ said Kovalenko, and he turned crimson. ‘And damnation take any one who meddles in my private affairs!’

“Byelikov turned pale and got up.

“ ‘If you speak to me in that tone I cannot continue,’ he said. ‘And I beg you never to express yourself like that about our superiors in my presence; you ought to be respectful to the authorities.’

“ ‘Why, have I said any harm of the authorities?’ asked Kovalenko, looking at him wrathfully. ‘Please leave me alone. I am an honest man, and do not care to talk to a gentleman like you. I don’t like sneaks!’

“Byelikov flew into a nervous flutter, and began hurriedly putting on his coat, with an expression of horror on his face. It was the first time in his life he had been spoken to so rudely.

“ ‘You can say what you please,’ he said, as he went out from the entry to the landing on the staircase. ‘I ought only to warn you: possibly some one may have overheard us, and that our conversation may not be misunderstood and harm come of it, I shall be compelled to inform our headmaster of our conversation . . . in its main features. I am bound to do so.’

“ ‘Inform him? You can go and make your report!’

“Kovalenko seized him from behind by the collar and gave him a push, and Byelikov rolled downstairs, thudding with his goloshes. The staircase was high and steep, but he rolled to the bottom unhurt, got up, and touched his nose to see whether his spectacles were all right. But just as he was falling down the stairs Varinka came in, and with her two ladies; they stood below staring, and to Byelikov this was more terrible than anything. I believe he would rather have broken his neck or both legs than have been an object of ridicule. ‘Why, now the whole town would hear of it; it would come to the headmaster’s ears, would reach the higher authorities -- oh, it might lead to something! There would be another caricature, and it would all end in his being asked to resign his post. . . .

“When he got up, Varinka recognized him, and, looking at his ridiculous face, his crumpled overcoat, and his goloshes, not understanding what had happened and supposing that he had slipped down by accident, could not restrain herself, and laughed loud enough to be heard by all the flats:

“ ‘Ha-ha-ha!’

“And this pealing, ringing ‘Ha-ha-ha!’ was the last straw that put an end to everything: to the proposed match and to Byelikov’s earthly existence. He did not hear what Varinka said to him; he saw nothing. On reaching home, the first thing he did was to remove her portrait from the table; then he went to bed, and he never got up again.

“Three days later Afanasy came to me and asked whether we should not send for the doctor, as there was something wrong with his master. I went in to Byelikov. He lay silent behind the curtain, covered with a quilt; if one asked him a question, he said ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ and not another sound. He lay there while Afanasy, gloomy and scowling, hovered about him, sighing heavily, and smelling like a pothouse.

“A month later Byelikov died. We all went to his funeral -- that is, both the high-schools and the seminary. Now when he was lying in his coffin his expression was mild, agreeable, even cheerful, as though he were glad that he had at last been put into a case which he would never leave again. Yes, he had attained his ideal! And, as though in his honour, it was dull, rainy weather on the day of his funeral, and we all wore goloshes and took our umbrellas. Varinka, too, was at the funeral, and when the coffin was lowered into the grave she burst into tears. I have noticed that Little Russian women are always laughing or crying -- no intermediate mood.

“One must confess that to bury people like Byelikov is a great pleasure. As we were returning from the cemetery we wore discreet Lenten faces; no one wanted to display this feeling of pleasure -- a feeling like that we had experienced long, long ago as children when our elders had gone out and we ran about the garden for an hour or two, enjoying complete freedom. Ah, freedom, freedom! The merest hint, the faintest hope of its possibility gives wings to the soul, does it not?

“We returned from the cemetery in a good humour. But not more than a week had passed before life went on as in the past, as gloomy, oppressive, and senseless -- a life not forbidden by government prohibition, but not fully permitted, either: it was no better. And, indeed, though we had buried Byelikov, how many such men in cases were left, how many more of them there will be!”

“That’s just how it is,” said Ivan Ivanovitch and he lighted his pipe.

“How many more of them there will be!” repeated Burkin.

The schoolmaster came out of the barn. He was a short, stout man, completely bald, with a black beard down to his waist. The two dogs came out with him.

“What a moon!” he said, looking upwards.

It was midnight. On the right could be seen the whole village, a long street stretching far away for four miles. All was buried in deep silent slumber; not a movement, not a sound; one could hardly believe that nature could be so still. When on a moonlight night you see a broad village street, with its cottages, haystacks, and slumbering willows, a feeling of calm comes over the soul; in this peace, wrapped away from care, toil, and sorrow in the darkness of night, it is mild, melancholy, beautiful, and it seems as though the stars look down upon it kindly and with tenderness, and as though there were no evil on earth and all were well. On the left the open country began from the end of the village; it could be seen stretching far away to the horizon, and there was no movement, no sound in that whole expanse bathed in moonlight.

“Yes, that is just how it is,” repeated Ivan Ivanovitch; “and isn’t our living in town, airless and crowded, our writing useless papers, our playing vint -- isn’t that all a sort of case for us? And our spending our whole lives among trivial, fussy men and silly, idle women, our talking and our listening to all sorts of nonsense -- isn’t that a case for us, too? If you like, I will tell you a very edifying story.”

“No; it’s time we were asleep,” said Burkin. “Tell it tomorrow.”

They went into the barn and lay down on the hay. And they were both covered up and beginning to doze when they suddenly heard light footsteps -- patter, patter. . . . Some one was walking not far from the barn, walking a little and stopping, and a minute later, patter, patter again. . . . The dogs began growling.

“That’s Mavra,” said Burkin.

The footsteps died away.

“You see and hear that they lie,” said Ivan Ivanovitch, turning over on the other side, “and they call you a fool for putting up with their lying. You endure insult and humiliation, and dare not openly say that you are on the side of the honest and the free, and you lie and smile yourself; and all that for the sake of a crust of bread, for the sake of a warm corner, for the sake of a wretched little worthless rank in the service. No, one can’t go on living like this.”

“Well, you are off on another tack now, Ivan Ivanovitch,” said the schoolmaster. “Let us go to sleep!

And ten minutes later Burkin was asleep. But Ivan Ivanovitch kept sighing and turning over from side to side; then he got up, went outside again, and, sitting in the doorway, lighted his pipe.

NOTES

elder Prokofy: the village elder was the elected head of the mir (village commune)

Anthropos: Greek for man

Turgenev and Shchedrin: Ivan S. Turgenev (1818-1883) and Shchedrin (real name Mikhail Y. Saltykov, 1826-1889) were considered liberal and enlightened in the 1850-1860’s

Buckle: Henry Thomas Buckle (1821-1862) was an English historian

Little Russian: Ukrainian

Aphrodite: refers to Botticellil’s painting “The Birth of Venus”

pothouses: taverns, pubs; the pun is that the Russian word for tavern, kabak, means “pumpkin” in Ukrainian

aubergine: eggplant

kolossalische scandal: ein kolossalischer Skandal, a colossally unpleasant incident

vint: a bridge-like card game

#Chekhov

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