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thatbanjobusiness · 4 years ago

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I want to briefly talk bluegrass fashion.

I appreciate and enjoy bluegrass from its roots to its present. I think creative growth over the decades has allowed for incredible and diverse music. Whether it’s disco influenced jamming, rock-bluegrass fusions, or classical music inspiration, there’s cool stuff to be had anywhere in the timeline. That said, one thing I wish contemporary bluegrass bands did more of was take fashion tips from the first generation bands.

In the 1920s, barn dance type radio programs featuring hillbilly music and rural style entertainment became popular. Some of these radio shows like the WLS National Barn Dance and WSM Grand Ole Opry had stage shows where you could watch the program in person. Costuming and presentation of the performing cast tended to be rough rube depictions, even caricatures, of rural people. George D. Hay, who founded and hosted the Grand Ole Opry, himself named the bands things like “The Gully Jumpers” and “The Possum Hunters.”

But when Bill Monroe and his Blue Grass Boys auditioned and were made members of the Grand Ole Opry in October 1939, Monroe detested this rough presentation that could quickly engender degrading opinions of hillbilly stereotypes. He opted instead to dress in a more classy manner. His band came out in white shirts, ties, jodhpurs, and boots.

This is something Bill Monroe bragged about even as the decades went on. For Monroe, it was important to dress well and in dignity when you got onstage. You respect yourself and you respect audiences when you come out in your best.

By the mid-1940s Bill Monroe’s band had accumulated a number of musical features that today our ears would recognize as bluegrass. It’s interesting to notice that bandmembers who left Monroe and went on to do their own bluegrass music often... took with them some of Bill’s ideas about stage presentation. Flatt & Scruggs, when they left Monroe and started their own band, are sometimes seen in early images wearing jodhpurs.

Early bluegrass bands on occasion might have had an “exception” to the rule. At the very least, you see this in Flatt & Scruggs in the late 1940s and first half of the 1950s. But I believe what they were doing reflected a trend that existed in the broader hillbilly music industry. I’d like investigate that more later to understand better. Unlike today’s concerts that involve music and only music, in those times, comedy was a more expected part of a show. White banjo performers, prior to bluegrass, were essentially all comedians; and in ensembles, someone (as I’ve often seen, the bass player) might take a comedy role. So you could’ve gotten a well-dressed band... and then the bassist dressed in comic rube garb.

That said, each first generation bluegrass band ended up creating their own unique presentation. It’s variation around a theme: dress up nice to respect audiences and put your best foot forward. How you present yourself onstage has impact. Audiences aren’t coming out to see some tattered everyday person; they’re coming out here to listen to music stars.

And so you see bands and acts coordinating their outfits in classy ways like...

(The 1958 screencap above doesn’t 100% evoke this, but I’ve noticed Flatt & Scruggs in the mid-50s through mid-60s would often do a 2-2-2 coordination. Everyone would wear hats. The band leaders would wear matching jackets and string ties. Two band members would wear the same collared shirts and the same string ties as the leaders. The last two band members, who were a duet and comedy team, would wear vests or different hats or some other distinguishing marker. Everyone’s clothes would carry the same overall color theme. Very well-thought out wardrobe presentation.)

SEE? EVERYONE IS DRESSED UP AND LOOKS GOOD.

You can tell they’re an act. You can tell they’re professional. You can tell, the second they step up to perform, they mean business. It helps elevate them into STARS.

As new generations took up bluegrass, the social context of how to dress changed. The Folk Revival of the 1960s brought many Northerners, urban people, and hippies into the bluegrass world. I haven’t read up as much on this part of bluegrass history, but I believe it was starting here that new bluegrass ensembles quit thinking about dressing up to be onstage. I’ve certainly seen photos of the early bluegrass festivals of the late 60s and 70s, and some second generation bluegrass groups would wear extremely casual things onstage. Other groups would coordinate by wearing the same collared shirt, which meant they were matching, but also (to me) making less of a “statement.”

It makes sense. First generation bluegrass performers were seeking to dress to impress and get away from crappy hillbilly stereotypes. Later generations of bluegrass performers might not have been from the South or a country lifestyle at all, and would feel more inclined to try to evoke a “working class” vibe by wearing everyday or ragged clothing. Today, I feel many bands do this to evoke their own form of an authentic stage presentation.

This means that today, many groups wear rather casual clothing. I feel I see this especially in jamgrass. And for the record, these are all VERY talented, well-known ensembles; I’m not comparing pros to locals or something.

And they’re dressed better here than what I’ve seen for bands at concerts.

I think it’s ironic that Bill Monroe, the Father of Bluegrass, sought to escape tattered clothing that actual country people wouldn’t wear on the fields, let alone onstage... only to have bluegrass musicians half a century later revert to costuming concepts Monroe had rejected. Today’s clothes of course aren’t the torn-up straw hat and single-strapped overalls of the early Opry, but it’s the same idea: dress down to look “country.” I don’t think there’s any objective disrespect to bluegrass’s history to dress like that, but I do think there’s a point that everyday clothes don’t make as much of an impression for your band.

Now of course not all groups have gone this route. In any generation of bluegrass, you still see bands that dressed more “traditionally.” But it’s certainly been a trend—since at least the 70s—to see bluegrass groups, either at the local or professional level, wearing everyday clothes. Get jeans, maybe some flannel, and you’re good to go. I see it oh-so-often now.

It doesn��t resonate as much to me. I get the point of their presentation, trying to evoke a casual non-mainstream working class image, but I feel there’s other ways you can set a vibe for your ensemble that doesn’t come off as lazy, everyday, or unnoticeable.

I’d be much more interested seeing:

YEAH!!!!! YOU GO RHONDA VINCENT AND THE RAGE!

I think it’s interesting to see this mindset about proper bluegrass performance attire recur in interviews. I’ve watched a number of 2000s and 2010s interviews for first and early second generation bluegrass performers, and one common thing the old-timers complain about is how people don’t dress up anymore. They feel it doesn’t respect the audience or make a good impression for the ensemble. How you present yourself onstage is half of the performance; it can be an effective means of enhancing a show when you do it well.

And I’ve seen it in conversations with people like Steve Martin, showing how in the 2010s, there’s still negative “hillbilly” images to butt against:

INTERVIEWER: Does it bother you that quite possibly the most famous banjo song in pop culture is "Dueling Banjos" from "Deliverance"?

MARTIN: It doesn't bother me at all. Actually I might argue with that because another most famous song would be the theme from "The Beverly Hillbillies" or "Foggy Mountain Breakdown," the song from "Bonnie and Clyde." So there are a couple of 'most famous' banjo songs.

INTERVIEWER: But still… the theme song from "The Beverly Hillbillies"?

MARTIN: It's just something we have to face. And everything changes. That's why I always wear a suit and tie when I play bluegrass.

INTERVIEWER: Do you feel like you're helping changing the face of bluegrass?

MARTIN: I don't know. That's what I do when I go on stage. I don't make hillbilly jokes or things like that. I'm just playing it as the person I am, not pretending to be anything else. The band I play with, we all dress in suits and ties.

One of my favorite contemporary bands also has one of my favorite wardrobes. What they choose to wear is a huge element of their stage presentation, amplifies their show powerfully, and contributes to the entire vibe of their music product. Good costuming can be part of marketing, and they market themselves spectacularly.

The Dead South almost marries the best of both worlds between “dress up” and “dress as the everyday man.” Their clothes aren’t “formal” in the sense of suits and ties. There’s more casualness to it. At the same time, what they wear—blatantly Southern and Western gear that matches with variation across the band—isn’t something everyday Joe or Janet would put on to go to Walmart. It’s got a little more of a “period” feel to it while also being modern enough to feel authentic. Altogether, it makes them classy without being formally classy.

It’s perfect for them. This is a “controversially” bluegrass band who knows that, while they play string band music, its creative reach extends beyond what you’d expect of something labeled “bluegrass.” They have called themselves “a rock band without a drummer, a bluegrass band without a fiddler.” Elsewhere, they’ve marketed themselves as “a gold rush vibing four-piece acoustic set from Saskatchewan [that] infuse[s] the genre's traditional trappings with an air of frontier recklessness, whiskey breakfasts and grizzled tin-pan showmanship.” This is a band I’ve always said plays to a “degenerate” image, songs filled with cowboy shootouts, barfights, gun-wielding robberies, alcoholic nights, and more.

And doesn’t their wardrobe evoke that spotlessly? There is CLASS and INTENTION with how they present themselves, to the point the band almost always stands in that order left-to-right, and has used their unique wardrobe choices for album covers and stage design.

Check out how the stage’s stained glass window lights behind them evoke both images from their songs, and have the tie, beard, skull, string tie theme on them. Every band member stands in front of his respective window.

That is *WAY* cooler, more effective, more impacting, more resonating, more memorable, more vibing, than simply tossing on my latest t-shirt.

(And yes, the last photos are from when I went to their concert last year. One of the best concerts I’ve EVER been to, and it’s because they knew how to put on a SHOW.)

Performance entails everything from the sounds you make to the personality you evoke to the clothes you wear. It’s why I prefer the first generation bluegrass bands’ approach to “dress well” over some modern string band trends. And again, bands like The Dead South show alternate ways you can dress up and rock out.

#long post #that banjo business #thatbanjobusiness #Country Music History #Haddock Deep Dives #General Banjo Business #The Dead South #Bill Monroe #daddy boi billiam #Flatt & Scruggs #bluegrass #first gen bluegrass

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gamewise · 4 years ago

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Osomatsu-kun Hachamecha Gekijou Review

(Author’s warning: the following game contains racially insensitive stereotypes. They are not present in these screencaps, and are not the effect of the game’s relatively low score. The game is a product of its time not just on a technical level, but on a cultural level. If you choose to read this review, massive spoiler alert: this is just not a good game, no matter how you slice it.)

In Japan, the Mega Drive debuted in October of 1988 with a whopping two titles available at launch; Space Harrier 2, and Super Thunder Blade. It wouldn’t take long for the humble 16-bit console to get its third title, a licensed game based on the Osomatsu-Kun manga which was about to get a new anime adaptation thanks to its popularity coming back. So you’re probably thinking this is a cheap cash-in title designed to promote the new anime, and I would like to say you’re right, but... actually, no, you’re right. Osomatsu-Kun Hachamecha Gekijou (Little Osomatsu: Nonsensical Theater) is a cheap cash-in that does more harm than good for the Mega Drive.

Before we dive into this game, let’s talk about Osomatsu-Kun itself. Osomatsu-Kun was a hugely popular manga about a group of trouble making sextuplets, who just so happen to all look the same. The manga ran for a whopping seven years back in the 60′s, receiving an anime adaptation at the peak of its popularity in 1966. In 1988, Studio Pierrot would bring forth a new anime adaptation that would see the sextuplets as side characters, with characters Iyami and Chibita, and their misadventures becoming more of the main focus. So seeing the side characters get thrust into the spotlight because they become popular is definitely nothing new, especially when the original manga did the same! So now that we have a new anime adaptation on the way, what are we getting for our video game cash in?

Well... just look at it. I know Japan is notorious for making some pretty surreal stuff, but Osomatsu-Kun Hachamecha Gekijou takes the fucking cake. You play as the oldest of the six brothers, and go on a quest to... uh, you know, I don’t think this game really has much of a story to it. You go through three different stages trying to get from point A to point B while you, armed with a slingshot, take out enemies based on other characters in Osomatsu-Kun, a lot of them being Chibita. And yes, you heard right, this game is only 3 stages long, so it should be quick and easy, right? Well... sit down, this game pads itself out in the worst possible way, and it managed to piss me off.

As you progress through a level, you may think it’s as simple as reaching the end of a stage... it’s not. Remember the infamous maze level in the Japanese Super Mario Bros. 2, or the one in Transformers Comvoy no Nazo? Well, there is a specific route you’re expected to take in this game, and it’s not clear. You��ll play this game going from point A to point B, but once you reach a certain point, the screen will just stop allowing you to move forward. You’ll see yourself before a pit, and think it’s instant death. In this game, it’s not death, it just leads you to a different part of the level. However, the path you need to take is cryptic as hell, and you’ll never know if you’re going the right way. The only way to find out is to take out the correct sub boss. When you do, you’ll see an intermission bumper like you would for anime, and you’ll ask yourself “Wait, am I just going through the first level again?” The answer is partially yes, because remember that point where the screen wouldn’t let you advance? Well, now you will see a platform show up that can take you to a new part of the level, but now you need to find a new path to get to point B. All of this is designed to pad the game’s extraordinarily short length. By short, I mean that if you know your way through all three levels, you can finish this game in about 15 minutes.

(Thank you to the person who put this shit together)

I’d be able to forgive the maze-like structure if the game was any fun to play, but as it stands, this is a painfully generic floaty platformer. By floaty I mean Osomatsu himself defies gravity by being able to float in the air for an extended period of time with his jump. It’s nice to be able to control his jump mid-air, but the weightlessness will more than likely mess up your precision platforming, or you’ll get interrupted by the mere touch of your enemies. Yes, when you take damage, you get stun-locked, and instead of just falling to the ground, you are stun locked mid-air. I could forgive it, but this game is once again, a 30 frames per second game, and almost feels like it’s been slowed-down intentionally. Another issue I take with this game is the difficulty, it’s way too easy. All enemy projectiles can be destroyed with your slingshot, and there’s enough distance between you and the enemy to have a pattern figured out easily. I guess the idea was because your slingshot has such a short range of attack, it would balance things out, but it really doesn’t. You’ll have plenty of lives and health to go up against the boss and sub boss as the game gets fairly generous with health powerups. There are also shops where you can buy some items to guide you with the ribbons you’re collecting along the way, but before you can access that you get the option of playing mini-games to gamble them away. I’d just skip these and go straight to the shop, it’s not like you need these power-ups that much anyway, you can beat this game without them.

On the visual side... this was the worst the Mega Drive had in 1988. Sure, it’s colorful, and the sprites evoke the spirit of the original manga, but this looks like a hold over from the Master System/Mark III, it just doesn’t impress me. Aesthetically, the game is fine for the most part, but eventually you’ll run into a few racial stereotypes for your enemies, and boy are they horribly insensitive. Even knowing this, I pressed on with the game, because I wanted to see if I could take something positive out of it and look past those enemy sprites, and about the only thing I find entertaining is Iyami being all the bosses. So aside from a few bad sprites, I find the graphics were more focused on aesthetics and functionality than pushing technical limitations early. Audio wise this game is just plain awful. There’s an old saying among video game music fans that only Japan could use the Mega Drive’s unique sound setup correctly, but if that’s the case, they’ve never listened to this game’s music. It’s obnoxiously loud, the sound effects are super scratchy, it feels too much like an assault on my ears compared to the sound effects on something like Curse, or even Taz-Mania. Nothing against the compositions themselves, I found two songs to be catchy, but otherwise, nothing stood out for the right reasons. Definitely not a keeper.

At the end of the day, Osomatsu-Kun Hachamecha Gekijou is shovelware of the highest honor. Even if you can endure the game’s painfully easy difficulty, and frustrating level layouts, you are left with a feeling of emptiness by the time you reach the end. This game will not so much break you, but it will leave you feeling empty and depressed as you say to yourself, “that’s it?” I certainly felt empty after playing this. Like I just lost about 20 minutes of my life, and I’ll never get it back. Is there much worse on the Mega Drive? Yes, but considering it was 1988, the console had nowhere to go from here but UP. I wouldn’t even think of recommending this today, even as a curiosity. This is one of those cases where I can say avoid at all costs

Positives

+ Aesthetics mimic the source material perfectly

+ Controls respond

+ The game’s translated subtitle “Nonsensical Theater” perfectly describes everything

Negatives

- Unnecessarily pads its length thanks to a cryptic maze structure

- Unacceptably short

- Insults your skill by being piss easy

- Racial stereotyping may be enough to turn you away

- Designed to cash in on Osomatsu-Kun’s returning popularity in the 80′s

- The game’s translated subtitle “Nonsensical theater” perfectly describes everything

- Audio will hurt your ears

- Unless you need to complete an actual Mega Drive collection... skip it.

- While taking screenshots, I somehow managed to unlock the game’s framerate, indicating that this game was deliberately programmed in assembly to play at 30 frames per second. The floaty mechanics actually handled better under 60 fps, no fucking joke. Do you believe this shit?

Overall: 2/10

#video games #osomatsu kun #sega #retro #retro gaming

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the-observant-frisbeetarian · 5 years ago

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Chapter 3

Bésame Mucho by George deValier

Summer, 1934 The French Countryside

"It's getting late. We should probably start heading back to town." Francis said the words reluctantly.

Antonio held a sprig of lavender to his nose and inhaled deeply. The bright afternoon sun descended slowly in the darkening sky above him; the thick, soft green grass felt like a blanket beneath him.

"Here, have another drink first," said Gilbert, passing a bottle of wine to Francis over Antonio's head. The red liquid sparkled as a ray of sunlight filtered through the glass.

"Fine," said Francis, taking the bottle. "But we can't stay on this hill all night."

"Why not?" asked Antonio. "I feel like I could lie here forever."

Francis laughed. "I'm quite sure you could, you lazy bastard."

"I can't believe the week's almost over," said Gilbert. "How does it always go so damn fast?"

Antonio shook his head, without an answer to that question. For the last five years, since he had turned fifteen, the best times of Antonio's life had been these brief weeks during the year he managed to spend with his two best friends. Talking, laughing, arguing, flirting, drinking, sightseeing… if only life could always be like this.

"Next time, my place, yeah?" continued Gilbert. "Ludwig's been asking when he's gonna see you guys again."

"How is the little guy?" asked Antonio. "Did he like that model plane I sent for his birthday?"

"Not so little anymore. Twelve years old and the little shit's nearly bigger than me. But he loved the plane. It's hanging from his ceiling with all the others."

"All right," said Francis. "Let's make it December, shall we? There's nothing like Christmas in Germany."

"Yes," agreed Antonio. "Gingerbread houses and glowing Christmas trees and candles and snow…"

"Gluehwein and schnapps and beer…"

"Muscular men in lederhosen and busty barmaids in low cut dirndls... Ahh," Francis sighed dramatically. "Yes, this December I shall fall in love in Germany."

Antonio twisted his neck and squinted up at Francis. "You're not going to fall in love. You're going to sleep with people."

Francis peered down at him disdainfully. "Yes, and I fall in love with everyone who shares my bed."

"That's not love, Francis. That's sex."

"Who are you to tell me what is love and what is not? I have fallen in love a thousand times, and I will a thousand more."

"Urgh," said Gilbert loudly. "I can safely promise you, I will never fall in love."

Antonio gazed back up at the dark blue sky and breathed the warm, clean scent of lavender. "I will fall in love but once."

"How terribly boring, mon cher. I never would have thought I'd hear you moralising."

"I'm not moralising. You can sleep with whomever you choose - bonne chance; cuidate; viel Spass. I am simply saying that I believe you only ever truly love once."

Francis scoffed. "And just how are you supposed to tell this one true love from all the others?"

"Well, I don't know yet. But I will when it happens. It'll be something like, when you look at them, this one person, and you really, truly see them. It might be immediate, or it might not be the first time you look. And it might be earth shattering, but it could also be just a silent realisation. But it's when you look at them and you realise, beyond any doubt, that they are the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in all your life."

Francis gasped in mock revelation. "I think that happened with that barmaid last night…"

Gilbert snorted. "You're both insane. This stupid idea of love doesn't even exist."

Antonio shrugged. "Laugh all you want. But it will happen. When I see them… I'll know."

Spring, 1942 A village in Italy

The air was warm and still, the afternoon sun low and golden through the orange clouds as Lovino and Grandpa Roma walked cheerfully down the country road towards home. Feliciano skipped excitedly around them. Someone had given him a glass of wine, which never failed to make him even more unbearably happy and energetic than usual. But today that was all right. Today Lovino did not mind. Because today was a good day for a free Italy.

"O partigiano, portami via," sang Roma, his boisterous baritone almost echoing in the fields around them.

"O bella, ciao! Bella, ciao! Bella, ciao, ciao, ciao!" Feliciano was always the better singer. Lovino only sang when drunk. Which probably had something to do with why he joined in as his brother chanted the chorus cheerfully back at Grandpa Roma.

"O partigiano, portami via…"

"Ché mi sento di morir!"

They all dissolved into wild peals of laughter. The mission that morning had gone perfectly - a truckload of weapons and vital information blown sky high - and the afternoon had been spent drinking, singing, and celebrating in the back room of the Cantina Verde. Lovino had actually been allowed along on the mission this time. Of course, he had done no more than stand with Grandpa Roma across the street as he gave the signal, but he had still been there. Still been a part of it. He was not sure if it was the wine or the exhilarating adrenaline still running through his veins that had him so exuberant.

"What's next, Grandpa?" Lovino asked eagerly when he finally managed to bring his laughter under control. "A base? A supplies route? A secret location in town?"

"Oh, Lovino," sighed Roma, smiling and clapping a hand on his grandson's shoulder. "Can't we just celebrate today?"

"But we must think ahead, yes?" The sun dimmed behind the trees as they turned into the narrow lane leading to the house. "That's what you always say, and I showed you today that I can take more responsibility, and I really think it's time that I..."

Lovino trailed off slowly as he looked up the road to the front door. There was someone standing before it. Lovino felt suddenly hot and dizzy as everything spun inside his head and time slowed to a stop. Feliciano gasped loudly, and Roma took a few hurried steps forward, holding his hand above his eyes and squinting. "Is that..."

"Antonio!" Feliciano cried, bolting up the lane and throwing his arms around the laughing Spaniard. Roma laughed and followed him, clapping Antonio on the back, kissing his cheeks in exuberant greeting. Lovino just stood still, stunned, beyond any thought or feeling, watching the lively greeting from a distance. His entire world split apart, spun around, turned upside down. He had long ago lost track of the days since Antonio had left. All he really knew, now, was that he had not really expected him to come back. It took Lovino too long to move, to force himself to walk slowly up the lane.

"It is so good to see you here finally!" said Roma, his loud voice carrying down the street.

Antonio's grin shone down the lane, lit up the countryside. "It's good to be here, Roma."

"Why were you gone so long? Where did you go? What did you see? Oh, oh, did you bring me presents?"

"Of course I did, Feli!"

Antonio finally looked up and smiled softly when Lovino eventually reached the doorstep. He looked exactly the same as Lovino remembered... and he evoked the exact same reaction. Still this fluttering in his heart, in his stomach; still this annoying ache that he could not suppress, could not control. Still this anger that Antonio had left, that he had not come back. After all this time - almost three years. Three years and not a thing had changed. Antonio smiled brightly, cheerfully, then rolled his eyes to the sky and laughed. "Not a damn thing."

For a brief, mad moment Lovino thought Antonio had read his mind. Then he folded his arms and scowled. "Not a damn thing what?"

Antonio just shook his head, his green eyes twinkling as he smiled that infuriating, perfect, terrible, wonderful smile. "Nothing."

Roma opened the door, took Antonio's arm, and led him into the house. "Come in, come in! Let us not stand on the doorstep all day!"

Feliciano bounced through the door, Lovino following slowly, still dazed and slightly confused. Antonio smiled the whole time: as Roma took his bags and offered him food and practically forced him into a seat at the table, as Feliciano laughed and asked endless questions, as it all went too fast over Lovino's head and he struggled to comprehend that Antonio was actually sitting before him, in his house, in his life. That he was really here, after all this time, no longer just an intangible dream in his memory but really here, smiling and laughing and answering Feliciano's questions and brushing his hair back and nodding and glancing over at Lovino so subtly, so briefly...

Roma placed two bottles of wine on the table. "I'll fetch some glasses..."

"I'll get them," Lovino almost shouted before quickly rushing into the kitchen. Once alone in the room he let out a deep, shaking breath and leant against the bench, staring at his hands before him. Three years and he thought he had gotten over this. But this reaction… this was stronger than he remembered. This threw him off balance; this was scary and unexpected and so intense it was painful. How could Antonio look so wonderful, his voice still so cheerful, his eyes still so warm and sparkling? How could he so easily shatter three years of trying to forget?

Unbidden memory came quickly flooding back. Memories Lovino had tried to suppress, that he had played over in his head a hundred times. Antonio leaning towards him and whispering he was beautiful; holding his hand and saying he would protect him; singing in Spanish and handing him a guitar and looking down at him in the sun and calling him his 'corazón.' And of course that moment, that moment that lived fixed in Lovino's memory, the one he replayed over and over in dark early hours alone. Antonio holding him close: the feel of his arms and his breath, the touch of his hands, those sensations he awoke and feelings he evoked that never really went away. And then, those same hands pushing him away. Lovino realised that he was still angry about it, after all these years.

By now Lovino was practically gasping, defenceless against the memories and emotions that assaulted him relentlessly. Because now Antonio was back. In the next room. He was here, he was back, and this was real again, and Lovino didn't know how...

"Lovino?"

"Holy shit!" Lovino jumped and spun around. Feliciano squeaked. "Don't sneak up on people, Feliciano!"

Feliciano held up his hands defencively. "But, I didn't, I…"

"What the hell do you want?"

"You said you were going to get glasses and you've been in here for fifteen minutes."

"Oh. Right, fine, I'm…" Lovino opened the cupboard and reached for the wine glasses. "I'm coming now."

Feliciano tilted his head. "Are you all right, Lovino? You seem…"

"I'm fine!" Lovino slammed the cupboard door shut and stormed back into the front room.

Sitting at the table while Antonio, Roma and Feliciano talked brightly and easily, Lovino felt at a complete loss. He did not know how to act, where to look, what to do with his hands. He searched for something to focus on and settled for the drink before him, quickly making his way through two glasses of wine before Roma took the bottle from him and told him to slow down. Lovino glared at the table, embarrassed, with no choice but to listen to Antonio's cheerful, lilting Spanish accent. It was obvious Antonio was only speaking of unimportant topics in front of him and Feliciano. He avoided mentioning anything about the war, instead chatting about silly things like the different cars they had in Belgium and the strange weather in Spain. He gave them presents from the places he'd been – chocolate from Switzerland, wine from France, books of poetry from England. And the whole time Antonio only ever gave Lovino the tiniest glances, the smallest smiles, while he laughed and joked and gave his full attention to Feliciano and Roma. Lovino started to wonder if the stupid bastard even noticed he was there. Not that he was upset by it, or hurt, because he wasn't, and he didn't care, he…

"And how have you been, Lovino? Have you learnt to play your guitar?"

Lovino froze. And stared. Antonio was looking at him. Smiling at him. Waiting for him to speak. And oh God, his brain had just shut down and he couldn't think of a single thing to say, he couldn't…

Roma grinned broadly. "Lovino's lucky that his old Grandpa learnt to play back in the day. He inherited my natural talent, of course. He's a virtuoso on the thing, aren't you Lovino?"

Antonio was still looking right at him. Lovino still couldn't speak. Why this nervousness, this tight knot in his throat and his chest and his gut making it impossible for him to say or do or think anything... Lovino looked down into his hands. "No," he managed to choke out. "Not really." He could have kicked himself. Luckily, Antonio quickly changed the subject.

"What do you think of the book, Feli?"

Feliciano tilted his head as he flipped quizzically through the book of English poetry Antonio had given him. "It says the poems are romantic but they're all just about mountains and roses and people shooting seagulls."

Antonio laughed loudly. Lovino clenched his teeth. "'Romantic' refers to an artistic movement," Antonio explained. "It's not always about love."

"Oh." Feliciano looked disappointed.

Antonio smiled at Lovino. "But love poems are my favourite too, Feli." Lovino ignored him and reached for the wine bottle.

Grandpa Roma forced Antonio to stay for dinner and the night continued the same way - Feliciano and Roma chattering on, Antonio laughing and asking them questions. Lovino staring silently at the table, the back of his neck burning and his stomach rolling with anger and jealousy and frustration. He barely ate, barely looked up, barely spoke the entire meal; but then, Antonio, Roma and Feliciano needed no help with the conversation. And Lovino was used to being ignored, after all.

After what felt like all night, and like only an instant, Antonio finally put down his glass and started to stand. "I am afraid I have imposed on you far too long. It is time I headed back to my rooms in town."

Lovino did not know if the feeling in his chest was relief or disappointment. But then Roma stood quickly and grasped Antonio's shoulder. "Nonsense, my friend. You have drunk far too much wine to make the trip safely. You will stay here tonight."

Lovino took a deep gulp of air and immediately choked. He coughed, spluttered, gasped for breath, then grabbed a bottle of wine and took a few swigs to try and clear his throat. Finally catching his breath, Lovino looked up, eyes streaming, wine dripping from his mouth, to find everyone staring at him.

"Wow," said Feliciano. "Are you all right?"

Lovino's cheeks burned in humiliation. He took a few deep breaths, slammed the bottle down, and kicked the chair behind him as he stood. "Shut up. What the hell are you all looking at? Fuck off!"

"Lovino!" shouted Roma, but Lovino ignored him and stormed from the room.

Lovino refused to speak to Feliciano when he barrelled into the bedroom asking what was wrong, why he was so cranky tonight, why he wasn't happy to see Antonio like him and Grandpa Roma, why he just kept glaring angrily like that… Lovino simply ignored him and threw the blanket over his head, intent on a very long sleep-in the next morning.

But he could not sleep. Of course he could not sleep. How the hell could he sleep when Antonio was in the next damn room? This was all so stupid, and he had only made a damn fool of himself all night, and he was so mad at himself that he acted this way, felt this way, and why could he not stop his thoughts from running like this and damn it all he needed some air.

Lovino got out of bed and pulled on a shirt. He checked to see that Feliciano was asleep before leaving the room and heading down the hall into the kitchen. He pushed through the door into the back garden, stumbled a little, and realised he was still a little drunk. The night was warm, the garden illuminated by the light of a nearly full moon. The nighttime air was scented with lily and rosemary. Lovino walked directly to the back wall, leant against it, and stared up at the starlit sky. It felt calmer out here; almost like he could finally begin to think clearly. But just as he started to lower his gaze, he noticed, from the corner of his eye, that someone was standing only metres away from him. A sharp jolt shot through his head and Lovino took a deep gasping breath, almost crying out as he placed a hand to his chest in shock.

"Sorry, it's me, sorry!" Recognising Antonio almost made Lovino's shock worse. Could this night possibly get more embarrassing? "Sorry, Lovino, did I scare you?" Lovino looked at Antonio like he was insane, and tried to even his breathing. Antonio's face suddenly furrowed in concern. "Seriously, Lovino, are you all right?"

"You stupid bastard, damn it, what the hell are you doing, you scared the absolute shit out of me, who the hell stands in other people's gardens at midnight, I mean oh my God, really!"

Antonio bit back a smile and sucked in a breath through his teeth, shrugging apologetically. "Sorry." He scratched his head then held out a small packet. "Would you like a cigarette?"

Lovino looked down at the offering warily, his breath coming a little easier. He narrowed his eyes. "Yes." He reached out and took one. He stared as Antonio put a cigarette between his own lips, struck a match, lit it, then held the light out to Lovino. Lovino lifted the cigarette uncertainly to his lips. Antonio held the match to it, smiling, his eyes glittering behind the flame.

"Don't tell your Grandpa."

Lovino had no idea why those words sent an aching, tingling, excited shiver shooting down his spine and across his skin. "It's none of his business anyway," said Lovino flippantly. "I'm eighteen years old, I can do what I like." Lovino took a draw on the cigarette and immediately dissolved into a coughing fit.

"Don't inhale," said Antonio. He almost sounded like he was laughing.

Lovino fought once again for breath before his lungs finally cleared. He glared up at Antonio, his eyes wet from coughing. "Why am I always left breathless around you?" Damn. That hadn't come out very well. "I… you… I mean… what are you doing here?"

Antonio answered too easily. "I needed some air. It's a beautiful night, isn't it?"

"No, I mean what are you doing here? Why did you come back now?"

This time Antonio paused. "It was the right time. What with the Germans taking control, and..." Antonio stopped, then sighed, then shook his head almost disbelievingly, just gazing at Lovino. "But it is so good to see you again, Lovino. And you're so grown up!"

Lovino shrunk back against the wall, feeling the need to hide from Antonio's eyes. "Well, that's what happens in three years."

Antonio nodded and took a draw on his cigarette. He smiled at the ground. "I missed you."

Lovino could suddenly feel his heart pounding within his chest. "I didn't even think of you." That was, of course, a total lie. Not a day had passed in three years that Lovino had not thought of Antonio. While the other village boys talked about girls, while Grandpa Roma joked about him getting a girlfriend, while he grew to understand just what was expected of a man and a woman… all Lovino thought of was Antonio.

"That is understandable," said Antonio quietly. "I thought you might have forgotten me." Lovino didn't say it, but that was impossible. And he should know - he'd tried.

"Why did it take you so long?"

"Well, I was very busy."

"And you couldn't visit once? Not once, in three years?"

Antonio looked surprised. "Well, I..."

"I was so confused when you left, you know. I wasn't sure if I had done something wrong, but you said that I hadn't, but you also said that you left because of me, and I never quite understood why."

There was a very long pause as Antonio stared at him, as Lovino slowly processed what he had actually just said. He very nearly ran away, but then Antonio responded. "Lovino, I am so sorry. I think I told you once, that I was never very good at separating right from wrong – that I always felt too much to know the difference." Antonio broke off again, like he was debating whether to continue. Lovino waited silently, his heart fluttering, his hands shaking. The night was so still and silent around them; like they were somewhere far away, long ago, where things like this could be said to each other. Antonio took a deep breath before continuing. "Well, that was why I left. Because when I was around you, I could not stop the feelings that engulfed me. They screamed at me, overtook everything, blocked out all sense of what was appropriate and…" Antonio closed his eyes, furrowed his forehead, took a draw on his cigarette. "I shouldn't be saying this."

Oh no. He couldn't stop there, not when Lovino was on the edge like this; his heart thumping, his head hazy, his knees weakening… "What feelings?" Lovino asked it softly, scared of the answer. "What do you mean?"

Antonio opened his eyes. They were so much darker in the moonlight. "I'm not one to play games about things like this, so I'll be honest with you. You have a right to know. I have... feelings for you, Lovino. I always have. I wondered if going away would change anything. But of course it didn't."

Lovino clutched onto the brick behind him, sweat rising across his skin. This conversation was heading somewhere he was not sure he wanted to follow. "Feelings?

"Yes. Very strong feelings. Romantic feelings."

Lovino gasped and looked away. He did not expect this. He felt like he would fall over any moment. "You mean… like the way a man feels about a woman?"

Antonio spoke slowly. "Something like that. But men can feel that way about men, as well."

Now Lovino's heart felt like it was being squeezed, his entire world turning upside down. "People say that is wrong."

"People are afraid of what they do not understand."

"So why… if its not wrong… why did you leave then?"

Antonio took another shaking breath through his teeth. "You were fifteen, Lovino. Even now you're still…" Antonio broke off and sighed in frustration. "Even now I should not be saying this, I'm still so out of line. But I could not stay away any longer. Every night for the last three years I have thought of you. And seeing you now… my God, but how much I missed you, it's... it's stunning."

Lovino shook his head, everything unreal and far away. He could not comprehend it. That anyone could say these things about him, could feel this way about him... No one ever said things like that about him. Hell, no one even liked him. Antonio must be confused; he could not mean this. This must be a mistake, Lovino must be misunderstanding... He stood still, the night silent around him, the forgotten cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.

"I'm not asking you for anything, Lovino. It's just, as I said… you have a right to know."

Lovino was beyond stunned. He was simply numb. "I… I don't…" Lovino spoke not to himself, not to Antonio, but just because he could not stop the words spilling from his lips. "I don't know what I'm supposed to…"

"No," said Antonio quickly, severely. "You're not supposed to do anything."

Breathing through the silence, Lovino finally looked up at Antonio: his green eyes so dark in the moonlight, his always cheerful, passionate face so like the image imprinted on Lovino's memory. He wondered exactly what Antonio's words meant. What possibilities were there, what it could all mean... and suddenly he couldn't breathe. "Oh." Lovino gulped for air, dropped the cigarette stub, turned away... He placed a hand on the wall to steady himself, and said it again, unable to stop. "Oh... oh..."

"Mierda." Antonio was suddenly right beside him, his face twisted in distress. When Antonio's hand almost brushed his Lovino nearly shouted. He reached out to hold onto him, to push him away, he didn't even know, and then he just settled for sinking to the ground. Antonio followed him, speaking quickly. "Forget it, Lovino, it was nothing. It never happened, all right? We'll just pretend that it never happened, and I never said those things, all right?"

Lovino shook his head, then paused, then nodded, the whole time refusing to look at Antonio. He tried to calm down by thinking how stupid was he being, what a fool he was making himself, how ridiculous Antonio must think him. Why did he always overreact like this? Everyone thought Feliciano was silly and high-strung, but Lovino was just as bad. He was at least grateful that it was probably too dark for Antonio to see his cheeks burning in embarrassment.

"Do you want me to go away?"

Lovino looked up as Antonio asked the question slowly, reluctantly. And he realised... no. No, he didn't. Because out here, alone, in the middle of the night, it still felt like another time and place. So maybe it was all right to let his guard down for just a moment. "No."

Antonio sat back slowly against the wall. Lovino covered his face with his hand, ashamed, but Antonio smiled at him. Lovino ran his hand over his eyes, looked up at the stars and the bright, nearly full moon. Everything felt so different here.

"You are so beautiful in the moonlight." Antonio said the words so softly that Lovino was sure he was not meant to hear them. He scowled and kept his gaze up at the sky.

"Don't say such stupid lies."

"It's not a lie, Lovino. You really are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen…" Antonio gave a short, quiet laugh, almost a sigh. "In all my life."

It was the first Resistenza meeting since Antonio had returned, and the cantina was full. Feliciano sat drawing in the corner and Lovino sat on the table beside him, swinging his legs nervously as the meeting got well underway. But Lovino barely spared a glance for his Grandpa as Roma gave the usual speech about recent activities and constant vigilance. Instead, Lovino's eyes were fixed on Antonio. The night before felt like a dream. Lovino was not even sure it had happened. Surely that could not be real. Surely Antonio could not actually think those things about Lovino, could not feel that way for him. Antonio was a stupid bastard, sure, but no one was that stupid. Lovino chose to believe he had imagined most of it, and misunderstood the rest. Because that was easier to deal with.

It took Lovino a few moments to realise that Antonio was staring right back at him. And smiling. Lovino turned bright red and concentrated on the picture Feliciano was drawing beside him. With his thoughts running wild and swift through his head and his nerves overtaking him, Lovino could hardly pay attention to the meeting until he realised Antonio was speaking.

"The Germans have been using a few different supply routes, but none so important as this. This railroad is their most direct link to Austria and is being used to transport vital supplies to bases..."

Lovino tilted his head to the side, bit his lip, and completely lost concentration once again. There was something different about Antonio when he spoke like this. Something exciting and passionate and confusing and just so... appealing. Everyone in the room sat hanging off his every word.

"Our objective is simple. If they lose this rail line, we delay the Germans by months. This line must be destroyed."

The room erupted in quiet words and murmurs. "We've never attempted anything like this before," said one of the men.

"No. But the situation has never been so serious. This is just the start. From here, our attacks against the Germans are going to increase... as is the danger."

A thrill ran across Lovino's skin at the words. And yet he was surprised by just how much those words worried him. Because this was what Antonio did, all the time, and Lovino started to realise how dangerous that actually was. And how much it scared him.

Over the next few days Antonio quickly became a part of their lives once again. It was just as Lovino remembered. Antonio coming and going constantly, giving them silly presents and trinkets, staying for dinner after speaking privately with Grandpa Roma. Lovino was learning Antonio all over again, and trying desperately not to fall into this painful want and longing. But it was so hard when Antonio smiled at him like that, when he gazed at him from across the room, when all Lovino could think of was those words he had spoken in the garden, that life shattering confession. When he found himself wondering if maybe, just maybe, there was some way that confession could become something more. But Antonio had left before, and he would leave again, or he would finally realise just what Lovino was really like and that he had made a huge mistake in these silly, misguided feelings for him.

The evening before the mission, Antonio and Grandpa Roma spoke in the front room until well into the evening. Feliciano was already in bed, but Lovino sat waiting in the kitchen, sick with anticipation, scared and unsure, his stomach twisting nervously and his head pounding... Eventually, unable to stand it, Lovino jumped up and stormed into the room. Antonio and Roma both looked up in surprise. "I want to go with you."

Antonio smiled, but Roma frowned and shook his head. "No. It is too dangerous."

Lovino burned immediately with frustrated anger. Not only was Roma still treating him like a child, he was doing it in front of Antonio. Lovino glared at him, his hands in fists. "I know what I'm doing, Grandpa, I…"

"Lovino, we are not having this conversation now. The answer is no. Besides…"

"I don't have to do any fighting," Lovino pressed on desperately. "Surely you need someone to drive the car or something…"

"The plans are already made, and we have no room for one more."

"But just listen to me…"

"NO, Lovino!" Roma looked at him as though he was a nuisance, a naughty child, and Lovino's eyesight blurred with rage. His pulse hammered in his head. He clenched his teeth and his fists, furious and humiliated. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, then glared at Roma defiantly.

"I could go join the army tomorrow if I wanted, you know. I bet they wouldn't think I was too young."

Roma just looked exasperated. "Don't say such stupid things, Lovino."

"It's not stupid, it's the truth!" Then angrily, unthinking, wanting to hurt and anger Roma, Lovino shouted, "How would you like it if I went and joined the fascists? I'm sure I'd have more freedom with them than I do in this household!"

Roma reacted immediately. He slammed his fist on the table before standing, furious, and taking an angry step towards Lovino. Then suddenly, shockingly, Antonio stood and moved between them. Everyone stopped. There was a heavy, silent pause as they registered what just happened. Even Antonio looked surprised as Lovino stared at him wide-eyed, Roma glaring with an expression of confusion and anger. And then Antonio laughed.

"If it's action you want, Lovino, I don't suggest joining the Italian army. I believe they recruit based on how fast you can run away with a battle raging at your back. Sadly different from the days of the Great War, Roma, no? Which reminds me, I've been wanting to ask about your famous evasion technique before the sixth battle of the Isonzo. I've been thinking of how we could use this brilliant move in a smaller setting. I'm sure you have some ideas."

Roma narrowed his eyes, flicked them quickly between Antonio and Lovino. But Antonio just kept smiling easily, and eventually Roma nodded slightly and took a step back. "It is interesting you should mention that. Run along, Lovino."

Still furious, but now also confused and irritated and very strangely, slightly flattered, Lovino raced out of the room, through the kitchen, and into the garden. He felt like screaming. Instead he walked to the wall, kicked it, then spun around and leant back heavily against it. What the hell had just happened? Why had Antonio moved between him and Roma like that, almost as if trying to... protect him? That was ridiculous, he didn't need protection from his Grandpa. But then Antonio seemed to have done it unthinkingly, automatically. Lovino put his hands to his head as though trying to prevent it exploding. He could not deal with this. He was never good at handling his emotions, but whenever Antonio was around it just became a thousand times more confusing. Did Antonio even know what he did to Lovino? If he did, would he stop? And more importantly - would Lovino want him to?

Closing his eyes, Lovino felt his skin cool in the slight evening breeze, his pulse start to slow and even. He refused to admit to himself what he was waiting for. But his stomach twinged nervously, his head spinning in anticipation of something he could not quite grasp.

Eventually, the sound of footsteps approached and Lovino opened his eyes to see Antonio smiling down at him. Lovino's pulse raced again, but he just frowned back. "Well. I supposed I had better ask you to be careful tomorrow."

"I will."

"And I'll… I will see you after the mission."

"Yes." Antonio's eyes shone in the moonlight and he laughed softly. "Please don't go and join the army in the meantime." Lovino glared and opened his mouth to answer, but bit back the words and looked at the ground. "Did you want to say something?" asked Antonio cheerfully.

"No!"

"Well all right, then. Goodbye, Lovino." Antonio turned to leave, and Lovino's chest crowded with panic and doubt.

"Wait, Antonio, I…" Antonio looked back slowly, hopefully. Lovino fought to return his gaze. Damn, this was so hard. "I've been thinking about your words. Here, in the garden, last time. When you told me…" But he couldn't finish the sentence.

"I remember," said Antonio softly.

"Well… that's all. I've just… been thinking about them."

Antonio smiled. "All right."

Lovino scowled at Antonio, afraid of how he might interpret the words. "That doesn't mean anything, you know, it doesn't mean that I…" And Lovino had dug himself into a hole. What a stupid thing to say... He frowned bitterly and folded his arms violently. "You can go now."

Antonio laughed again, his face so handsome and carefree in the soft light. Then he reached out for Lovino's hand and lifted it slowly. Lovino felt the touch shoot through every part of him, felt it fire through his head and burn through his veins and stop his breath. He tried to pull his hand back; he could not make himself do it. This was the first time Antonio had touched him since he had arrived back... the first time in three years. And then the whole world spun around when Antonio lifted Lovino's hand to his lips and kissed it gently, smiling down with sparkling eyes. "Adios, mi corazón."

Lovino could only scowl and snatch back his hand. He did not know what else to do. Antonio laughed, nodded, and strolled out the back gate, whistling as he went. As soon as he was gone, Lovino gasped for breath, an unwanted smile spreading uncontrollably across his face. His head felt light with giddiness and he almost glided up the house, laughter close to bubbling over, all anger and embarrassment gone in the uncontainable happiness of this moment. He went to walk through the back door, only to stop short, abruptly, the smile falling immediately from his lips. Grandpa Roma stared down at him in the doorway, his expression dark.

"Grandpa."

Roma's darkened eyes flicked over to the back gate, then back to Lovino. "Lovino, you are never to be alone with Antonio, do you understand me?"

Lovino bit back a gasp, then tried to look confused. "But Grandpa, what..."

Roma nearly yelled the words. "Do you understand me?"

Lovino choked off a protest and simply nodded, his eyes on the ground, his heart falling to his feet. "Yes, Grandpa."

"Good boy. Now go to bed."

Anger. Humiliation. Futile frustration. Lovino nodded again. "Yes, Grandpa."

"It was unexpected. A small group of station guards. They were just as surprised as we were. We took them down but lost some of our own, and we had to escape immediately..."

Lovino had come early to the cantina to meet Grandpa Roma and hear the results of the previous night's mission. He hadn't been quite sure what to expect. A quiet debriefing, an empty room, wild celebrations like last time maybe. Instead he stood listening as Roma explained what had gone wrong, why they had failed. But Lovino didn't need to know all this. Why Grandpa Roma's shirt was red with blood, why the members of the mission looked worn and dead-eyed, why extra patrols had been placed around the streets outside, why people sat in the corners staring blankly and angrily. He only needed to know one thing.

"Antonio," he asked, his voice cracking slightly. "How is Antonio?"

Lovino pretended not to notice the quick, sharp glance Roma shot him. He just stared at the wall, waiting for the answer. "The bullet only grazed his side. It was deep enough, however. He has lost a lot of blood."

A sickening hot shudder ran down Lovino's spine. The air turned thick and slow around him, his head caught in a hazy place where everything was too dark and too fast. "Where is he?" he finally managed to choke out, his throat dry.

Roma did not answer. After a long pause, one of the members said, "The side room there has become our little hospital."

Lovino did not wait to hear anymore. Too lost in his terrifying emotions to think about what he was doing, he ran across the room to the side door, ignoring the shout that came after him.

"Wait, he's sleeping…"

Lovino did not stop. He threw open the door, then immediately recoiled at the smell of blood that hit him. Antonio lay on a red stained mattress, his eyes closed, his face white, his chest rising and falling evenly. Bloody bandages wrapped around his body and littered the ground; metallic bowls and instruments sat upon the centre table. Lovino's body was stone; his head was fire. A horrified fear rolled in his stomach as a hundred awful, unbearable thoughts attacked him. What if this was it? What if Antonio died? What if Lovino had only realised how he felt just in time to lose everything… What would he do, what could he do, oh God, what was he supposed to do! He was terrified, panicking, and all he wanted was to scream.

"He's going to be all right, Lovino." Lovino did not turn at the sound of Grandpa Roma speaking just behind him. He kept his eyes on Antonio, on his pale, sleeping face, on his bloodied side. "He is wounded, yes, but he will survive."

Lovino felt dizzy, sick. The walls closed in on him - his breath too fast, his pulse hot and pounding - and it was all too much. He had to get out. He turned and ran through the room, unheeding of the looks shot his way. He ignored Roma calling behind him.

His feet pounded on the hard stones and it was all still so unreal, so heavy and strange and stifling, but more than anything it was terrifying. This crawling, spinning, horrified fear that crowded his mind, shook his body, suffocated his lungs. He could not stand this fear. Lovino reached the end of the street before the rolling nausea in his stomach rose and overcame him. He fell against the wall, steadied himself with a hand against the cold stone, then bent over and vomited onto the pavement.

Lovino could not deal with this. It was not worth it. Nothing was worth this feeling - of caring so much about someone that the very idea of them leaving or dying left him a frantic mess, sick and shaking and burning and freezing, with this feeling that his chest was going to rip apart and darkness was going to engulf him and he was going to collapse and scream and break into a million pieces.

The realisation was sudden, stunning. If he loved Antonio, he would have so much to lose. And one day, he would. Because what Antonio did was too dangerous. One day Lovino would be destroyed... and he could not endure it. He could not endure any more of this. Lovino wiped his mouth and stumbled down the street, ignoring the concerned and disgusted looks of the few passersby. And he came to the decision. It would be easier to close off his heart now, to stop this silly little infatuation before it went any further. And besides, look at him – a broken mess, a pathetic coward, a worthless, powerless, friendless weakling who was still treated like a child. He would be doing poor, deluded Antonio a favour, too.

Lovino refused to return to the cantina over the following days. Instead he spent his time at home, sometimes venturing to the village market with Feliciano. He knew Grandpa Roma was starting to worry about him, but Lovino easily ignored him. He did not ask about Antonio, though he burned to know; luckily Feliciano solved that problem with his constant, insistent questions about Antonio's well being. Lovino was desperately relieved to hear that Antonio was doing even better than expected, though he never asked or acted like he was the slightest bit interested. Roma continued organising missions, but Lovino no longer asked to go… he could not handle seeing Antonio. And always there was this voice inside of him; a tiny, stupid, insistent voice that told him how stupid he was being, how selfish, how completely idiotic… a voice that knew he was lying to himself.

Lovino tried to convince himself that if he did not see Antonio, then these feelings would all go away, and everything would go back to normal. But even as he thought it he knew that could never happen. And of course he could not avoid Antonio forever. So when he walked into the kitchen one afternoon and overheard Antonio speaking with Grandpa Roma in the front room, everything he had tried so hard to suppress came flooding back, engulfing him, pouring through every part of him.

"This was merely a setback. We will see many such hindrances in the coming months. What matters is how quickly we fight back, how soon we can get on our feet. A few lives mean nothing to the fascists… we can not afford to let them mean more to us."

Until recently, Lovino would have listened avidly. But today he fled the sound of Antonio's voice, ran into the sunny garden, hid himself in a far corner behind a bed of sage and rosemary. It was childish, he knew, and it was foolish. And yet, it was all he could think to do.

This should not change anything, Lovino tried to tell himself. He was still uninterested in Antonio. He still didn't care. It still wasn't worth it. Oh God, he was still lying. No matter how he tried to change it, every thought he'd had for weeks now, all the avoiding and waiting and ignoring, had all been tied to one man, to one desire, to one fear. And when Antonio walked out the back door and into the garden, Lovino felt his resolve strengthen, weaken, fall away, disappear. The early summer sun shone down, bright and hot, forcing Lovino's inadequate hiding spot into blazing view. Antonio simply walked over to him, smiled down in a way Lovino could not bear to see.

"I've missed you this last week."

Lovino did not respond. He looked away from that smile, rested his arms on his knees, fidgeted with a sprig of rosemary.

Antonio left a silence for Lovino to respond, before filling it himself. "Are you well?"

Lovino nodded. He knew he should be the one asking Antonio that. But he didn't - he couldn't. Even as the relief of seeing Antonio standing healthy and well before him turned his body weak, Lovino could not possibly say the words. Antonio waited in silence for a few seconds that began to feel like hours, until Lovino blurted out, "Grandpa told us you were fine. Feliciano was worried."

"Was he?" Antonio's voice was almost amused. "Were you?"

Lovino could barely stand this pressure. Why couldn't Antonio leave him alone, why did he have to stand here smiling and asking these questions Lovino had no way of answering... What did Antonio expect? What did he want? Lovino felt sweat start to rise on his neck. He had to leave before he lost control and screamed. "I am glad you are well." He scrambled to his feet. "I have to go now."

"Lovino, wait."

Why did he have no choice but to stop… why did he have no choice but to wait for Antonio to continue?

"They told me you came by the cantina. When I was injured."

Lovino gritted his teeth, fixed his eyes on the kitchen door across the garden. "Yes."

Antonio stepped towards him. Lovino's breath came faster, even as he jerked his head away. "I was happy to hear that you… that you were concerned."

"I was worried for the cause." Lovino said it too quickly.

"Of course." Antonio said it too easily.

Lovino put his hands in his pockets and twisted his foot into the ground. This conversation was so difficult. He did not know what to say, what Antonio wanted him to say, what he himself wanted to say. He finally forced himself to bring his gaze back to Antonio, but the look in Antonio's eyes brought back too many memories. Of words said years ago… Maybe you'll understand one day… Of ones spoken only weeks ago... I have... feelings for you, Lovino… The memory sent an excited, yearning flutter through Lovino's veins. He felt so close to giving in… But there was nothing there to fall into. Lovino could not feel this, could not accept it. He had to stop this now. Lovino closed his eyes and breathed out all his useless hopes, his broken desires. Then he opened them, and spoke.

"Do you remember, Antonio… the first night after you came back. Our conversation in this garden. The words you said to me."

"Yes." Antonio's expression was almost hopeful. But that hurt too much, so Lovino looked away.

"Well I just... I just… I want you to know that… I…" Oh God he was going to say this… He tried to convince himself that he was doing this as much for Antonio as himself. "I do not have those feelings for you."

Antonio blinked in surprise. "Oh." He narrowed his eyes in confusion, his expression uncertain. "But Lovino…"

"You need to know that." This was better for him, better for Antonio, better for everyone...

"I am sorry, but somehow, I was starting to think…"

"No!" Lovino could not let Antonio weaken his resolve. "Look, it's easy to understand. I don't feel anything for you. I never will. So stop this. Stop staring at me, and stop giving me things, and stop calling me your 'corazón' because I know what that means!" Lovino almost tripped over the words. This hurt so much… hurt so much to say these things, to see the look on Antonio's face, but Lovino tried to convince himself it would hurt more to admit the truth, so he just kept going. "I'm not like you, Antonio. I don't feel anything for you, because it's not normal and frankly… frankly it's quite disgusting as well."

Lovino could see the words hit Antonio. He flinched briefly, his face turning white and his eyes dropping to the ground. "Oh. I see."

"You expect too much. And you wear your feelings too plainly. So I… I am…" Lovino faltered but quickly pressed on. "I am asking you to hide them."

Antonio nodded, his hands in fists and his jaw clenched. Then he gave a little sigh, a shrug, and smiled at Lovino. "I will try, Lovino. I will endeavour to behave more appropriately in future." Lovino blinked rapidly, breathed through the rising tears and the crushing in his chest, and felt Antonio's bright gaze and smile like a knife. Antonio inclined his head slightly. His accent grew stronger as he spoke. "I apologise for any distress I have caused you. It was unforgivable of me. And I also apologise for mistaking my own selfish desires for reality." Antonio turned on his heel, and Lovino had to fight back a sob, had to stop himself from reaching out to stop him. Antonio paused briefly at the back gate. "But Lovino. I will never apologise for loving you."

When Antonio walked out the gate Lovino sank down against the wall, put his head in his hands, and finally let the tears break. He tried to convince himself this was right, that he was shielding his heart, that he was protecting himself from pain. But he couldn't stop the thought that screamed at him stupidly, insistently. How could anything possibly hurt more than this?

Christmas, 1934 A village in Germany

"So, Antonio, what happens if this one person of yours decides they don't feel the same way about you?"

Gilbert groaned loudly. "Are we really talking about this again?"

"Oh hush, drink your glue wine."

"GLUEHWEIN!" Gilbert shouted before taking another deep swig of the liquid. The table before them was covered with empty plates and half filled bottles and crumpled coloured paper, the last remnants of a truly magnificent Christmas dinner. No one did Christmas like the Germans.

"Well," said Antonio, trying to think of a way to respond to Francis' question. "That is the risk, isn't it? You can not stop yourself from loving someone, and you can not control how that person feels. If they do not love you…" Antonio shrugged. "They do not love you."

Francis looked appalled. "But how terribly depressing! You are trying to say that you fall in love just once, and if that person does not love you, then there goes the only chance you get?"

"It is unfair, isn't it. But what can you do?"

"What you can do is spend a week weeping over them - eating too much, drinking too much, having filthy, dirty, fabulous sex with strangers - and then forget them forever."

Gilbert waved his glass before Antonio's face. "No, what you can do is spread rumours that'll follow them forever, so the little shit never forgets they messed with the wrong guy."

Antonio rolled his eyes. "I'm not talking about loving someone in expectation of anything in return. I'm talking about loving someone because of who they are. Because of the way they talk, they smile, they fight; because of what they say and what they believe; because of all the wonderful, annoying, beautiful, frustrating, stupid, lovely, embarrassing things they do and they are. Because they are the one person in all the world who makes you finally understand how perfectly, intricately amazing a human being can be. And if they do not love me it changes nothing, because I will not love them so they love me, I will love them because I have no other choice."

"Antonio." Gilbert shook his head and sighed in frustration. "You are one stupid, melodramatic bastard."

Antonio flashed him a wild grin. "But come on. With lines like that, no one is gonna be able to resist me for long."

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

#Besame Mucho chapter 3

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mommydragon-of-all · 6 years ago

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To the mage village!

The sun was hanging low behind him as Soren crossed the perimeter of the village. It was a usual looking, quiet and peaceful place, if someone gave a brief glance to it. But keener eyes might have caught the unusual amount of new buildings, or the surrounding fields bursting with the finest goods. The Free Marches were rightfully called the bread basket of Thedas, with all those large wheat fields, but this village was exceptionally well doing with its various and healthy plants. In a zone that was medicore at best. It's rocky and shallow grounds stretched high up into dense forests, then further, until only a few trees could grow strong enough roots between the rocks to withhold the high winds, until only the clouds hugged the bare mountaintops.

But there was no need for anyone to strain their eyes or brains too much if they passed by this village nested in the valley by the stream, to notice it's true uniqueness. Especially if they arrived at a late hour like Soren. But unlike Soren, they might have been surprised, baffled or freaked out by the colorful lights and fires that slowly, steadily blinked into life along the streets as the highest hill hid the Sun behind its back.

Soren however, was utterly and completely mesmerized. A huge grin lit up his face and heart just as the village below started to lit up in fairy lights. He knew where he was headed, what he searched for up along the river, what he tracked, but seeing it right before his own eyes was incomparable.

A bunch of familiar names were burning one packet on his side, urging him even faster for what he knew to find, from gathered information, from rumors and deduction, from facts and hopes, and from a little bit of magical assistance. He was to find a whole nest of magic, energies flowing and humming freely, taking shapes and substances, vibrating in the air and tinting it with the irresistible taste of ozone... or was it scent? Soren could taste it on the tip of his tongue, and he abruptly urged the enormous hart he was riding on. He wanted more, see more, feel more, and he wanted it now. He wanted to laugh among those wonderful people who for the first time experienced laughing truly free, and he wanted to gulp down lungfuls of tingling air, he wanted to get drunk on it and good spiced wine tonight and he wanted to dance the rounds of freedom. One might enjoy freedom, but only can truly feel its strength among those who were freed.

The huge proud animal below Soren did not take the nudging kindly, and as if to ensure his rider didnt take him for a meek lamb either, he kicked himself high and dropped down hard, launching into a mad rush downhill. ...Soren couldnt have asked for a better mount - below dragon level. Loud, merry laughter erupted from Sorens chest. It was bouncing behind them all the way down, along their trail thorn into the foliage wide and straight, going down in a breakneck angle. It didnt matter. Let the world see and behold, for he was going there, and going with intent. He threw caution to the wind a long way back, since he made sure there was no need for covering traces anymore. Now he arrived free to a free place, dragging no harmful tail. Heck, he even weeded the root and rolled up the pathway into his pocket, so to speak.

That 'no harmful tail' thought however needed a little correction, as Soren entered the village staying true to that wide trail, the massive wild animal not bothering to jump the hay fence, but storming right through it like a natural battering ram.

Which brought Sorens joyful laughter up another level. For a whole bunch of seconds maybe, when from a corner of his eye he noticed a little, frightened child hiding behind his small stuffed animal at the side of the street. Soren grabbed the antlers of the hart and pulled them back. "Easy, big guy, there are people here.” The stubborn animal understood the no bullshit tone if not else, one that left no room for protest and promised consequences, and it stopped. ...It stopped immediately. Big hooves dug thick dark lines into the grassy ground, and the momentum dropped so suddenly that a lesser man would have flown across the fence on the other side of the road. But Soren wasnt a lesser men. A short playful laughter bubbled up his throat once again as he was bracing on the huge antlers as if they were the sides of a toy carriage. Ironed long boots touched down weightlessly next to the Hart, who towered over Sorens tall form like a piece of the mountain. Soren patted his mare in thanks, and let it on his merry way, back towards the hill.

A brave young man edged cautiously closer to Soren, freeing a rope from his waist, and offered -in a stuttering tone of disbelief, regarding his own actions perhaps- to take the travelers mount to the stables. To which Soren answered with a laugh and a heavy pat on thin shoulders: "Oh dont bother, just let it go.” -then added with a more collected manner- “Seriously, don’t approach him. He’s not domesticated." And with that he pointed his long boots towards the common center of all villages, the Tavern.

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

(Well, maaaaybe he took a few... detours on the way there. This was, after all, a place full of mages and their stuff.)

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

....

The Tavern was especially lively later that evening, packed full with mages and some other villagers, mostly drawn in by the presence of the curious stranger, who was currently –or still- in the company of Maxwell Trevelyan. Eyes often flickered over where they were seated at the fireplace. Though “seated” was a very loose term in the stranger’s vocabulary as it seemed. There was barely any minute when he sat on that chair like it was meant for. His spectacular sense of balance and easy flexibility also pulled some gazes to his lean, muscular body, but that was not the main reason he drew such a crowd. This tall, strange, armed elf lit up the village with shocks, worries, surprises and laughter since the sun reached the hill, and the time of resting and gathering, the true evening just has started. This magic enthusiast surely had some more interesting surprises under his belt for the day. …oh, if they only knew…

"That sounds awesome! But…" -Soren lifted a finger up, putting emphasis on the brief break in the conversation, while he lifted a cup with his other hand and gulped down all of it’s remaining contents- "…first things first". He slammed the cup down with a definite thump, right when the bard played the last notes of his current song. Then he sprung up with one fluid motion, as if pulled on a string, propelled by the foot on the seat by his ass. He stomped the other fine ironed long boot hard on the table. Soren cleared his throat pointedly and let his voice ring clear and loud across the Tavern. If there was an unnecessary flourish to it, it was all in the name of mocking a certain group that couldn’t hear it, and for the touch of grand dramatics and fun of course. (plus theres the influence of his Orlesian noble times too…XD THEY knew how to mock and rub it in)

“Ladies and gentleman, and everybody else, may i have your attention please?” The room went instantly silent, some drinks knocked on tables as a few nervous hands were emptied in preparation to the worst, while others shifted to the edge of their seats in curiosity, and some just waited to see if this was worth their attention. “During my… travels” –Soren continued- “i encountered a group of shiny chantry dogs way back in Orlais, hurrying East. I am a very helpful guy, so I of course generously offered to lift some of the burden off of those iron packed shoulders, and spare them a long travel. They had reservations about it at first, but in the end I stroke a good deal with them, which led me here today.”

During the brief pause it took for Soren to smirk on some entertaining flashbacks, the atmosphere of the room shifted into something so thickly charged that Soren could have sliced it with his deflect blade. But he ignited it instead with his next words, setting up an explosion of emotions and raw magic in the air. Oh how he loved explosions.

“They let me carry their stuff from then on and I let them carry on living. Well, most of them. It was a generous deal… especially since the stuff I bargained for wasn’t even theirs. So without their special compass they had nowhere to go but backtracking their own trail, and I came to return that stuff to their ONLY rightful owners. That is why I am here now in your amazing village. So please come forward and take back what is yours and YOURS ALONE. You even have your names on them..."

While finishing his little speech Soren reached into his biggest, iron banded pouch, the one he just wore to carry its special content here. He quickly found the big knot of the neatly tangled strings inside and pulled them out. The sound of small glasses clinging to each other filled the breathless silence in the room as Soren lifted the huge bunch of phylacteries up. They broke the light of the fireplace into crimson flickers, reflecting in wide eyes all around.

A side smirk sliced the heavy air and the stillness broke as Soren invitingly dangled the precious delivery.

The small vials quickly found their way into the trembling hands of their owners, evoking a large scale of reactions from tears to laughter, leaving only a few in Soren's hand. Judging by the sight of some excited people rushing out the door, the remaining mages would be in the Tavern soon too to collect theirs. There was only one particular phylactery tucked away in a different pocket, one Soren wanted to carry and hand over with special care, one that spurred Soren on to take the quickest routes over the more adventurous, one that wore the name of one Maxwell Trevelyan. It brought up a very fond memory of a great, fun day, and whispered promises of more excitement.

Then there was also the two broken ones, bundled up in small pieces of cloth, that Soren fished out from the bottom of the pouch. He offered them to the two crestfallen, worried mages still standing by the table, looking over the remaining vials repeatedly.

“Oh, sorry, these must be the ones you are looking for right? They broke during my… negotiation with their holders, but I collected most of their pieces, including the parts with the name tags. I also didn’t clean them so you can verify them if you want. Thought you might not rest easy until you saw them destroyed with your own eyes so... here. Im sorry but you just have to take my word for the fate of their contents, that I threw a firebomb on the place where they broke. Oh, and one on the clothes and belongings of the templars who carried them, for good measure. They themselves choose a good dip in the river over being cleansed with fire. ...how I wish i had seen them return to the White Spire…"

When the two mages hugged and thanked Soren with a strange mixture of relived tears and amusement then hurried away with barely held back eager fire in their hands, Soren settled back down with a pleased warm smile and enigmatic happy gleam in his eyes. This was a wonderful day. He took in the happy chaos all around him, the raw emotions, the energies dancing around, and it made his broad chest way too narrow to hold his full heart. Well, even more so than usual. This was everything... and that earthbound Bran laughed on him for working so hard for free. This was a reward higher than all the nobles could ever pay. His zone out was broken by a loud crack of the fire. He blinked, breaking his distant gaze and upon returning to earth he turned to Max, fishing out his phylactery with great care and holding it out to him. He was grinning ear to ear again.

“Wanna go out and do some spectacular ritual burning of this? By the way, is it too late to insist that I believe that such a thing has to involve naked dancing in the moonlight? THAT would be truly spectacular.” Soren joked, lifting a bit the weight of the moment, and doing so he silently offered an easy way to ask for an out if Maxwell wanted some privacy with it.

#(OMG I CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT TO EVER POST THIS!!!)#it was one of his hobbies targeting marching out templar groups after the rebellion #no one can hurt his precious mages just because they were too awesome #mommydagon is there for u #a new beautiful friendship buds #maxwell trevelyan #soren lavellan #mage village #screenshots

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weshipyourride · 5 years ago

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Looking Back at 2019: Our Favorite Moments

As the calendar year draws to a close and we give the BikeFlights.com vans' engines a few moments to cool, we're taking the time to reflect on some of our Outreach Team's highlights from the road. So grab a hot beverage of choice and join our West Coast, Mountain States and East Coast marketing managers around our proverbial campfire as each shares his favorite events of 2019.

Colin Blanchard, West Coast Marketing Manager

West Coast by Colin Blanchard

The Sea Otter Cycling Classic

Early in the season nothing beats the Sea Otter Cycling Classic. Getting to see so many people stoked on bikes after a long winter is a blessing. The weather in Monterey, California was amazing this year. Riding in short sleeves and shorts was something that I had been missing.

This year was a mix of work and play. We had just rolled out our partnership with UPS, which meant that a lot of people came by to talk about the change.

The Sturdy Dirty Enduro

A new event for BikeFlights.com this year was The Sturdy Dirty in Issaquah, Washington which is a women’s specific enduro race.

This event stands out for me because of how amazing the people at the event are, along with the riding. Having lived in Washington previously, going there feels like home and the trails, albeit hard, are always welcoming.

They also had some of the best snacks on course!

North American Handmade Bicycle Show

With frequent travels from east to west, I end up driving though Sacramento, California quite often. Getting to know the small bike companies in that town has been such a joy. That friendship was made even better considering the North American Handmade Bicycle Show happened there.

Considering BikeFlights.com works with so many small builders, we have gotten to know them personally very well over the years. Getting to see them all in one place doesn’t happen enough. Friends from Squid Bikes hosted some great pick-up races, which made the event even better.

The Downieville Classic

Downieville, California is one of my favorite places in the world. The mixture of the small town and epic riding is hard to match. BikeFlights.com has been working with the Sierra Buttes Trail Stewardship, who hosts the Downieville Classic, for the past two years.

So many riders travel from all over the country to race down these amazing trails, though I find the best part is hanging out with friends on rides. May it be taking a dip to cool off or sessioning some of the harder parts of their trails.

Single Speed Cyclocross Worlds

Similar to the Sea Otter Classic, getting away from the colder temperatures is always a joy. Which is one of the many reasons I loved going to the Single Speed Cyclocross World Championships in Saint George, Utah.

Though I do not own a cyclocross bike, that didn’t stop me from racing on my single speed dirt jumper. It wasn’t ideal for some of the course but it certainly made other parts more fun.

This year has been an amazing year of meeting new riders all across the West. I can’t wait to see what will happen next year!

Some photos provided by The Radavist and Angel Perez.

Michael Potter, Mountain Region Marketing Manager

Mountain Region by Michael Potter

Land Run 100

District Bicycles Owner and Land Run 100 Co-Promoter, Bobby Wintle puts on one hell of an event in Stillwater, Oklahoma. A two-day party of inclusion, motivation and celebration of all people. Before the ride, a block party is hosted leading into the event that features music, beer and an atmosphere unlike any other event I’ve attended this year.

If Land Run is not on your list - you’re missing out. This event guarantees a good day on the bike, regardless of weather. It is all worth it for that “welcome back hug.”

Leadville 100

The highest event on our calendar, this ride starts at over 10,000 feet of elevation in Leadville, Colorado. If the elevation doesn’t take your breath away, the views will. Considering this was my first endurance mountain bike race, I felt nervous going into the ride, but left with excitement for more.

The infamous belt buckle is the coveted prize for not only completing the course, but also meeting time goals. I rode away with the “big buckle!”

SBT GRVL

A first year event usually brings some uneasy feelings, considering the unknowns of the weekend. SBT GRVL in Steamboat Springs, Colorado clearly considered those unknowns and crushed the route, communication, amenities and execution.

This event has proved themselves already, but we have no doubt that their team has a few ideas up their sleeves to out-do their inaugural event. I look forward to challenging myself in Steamboat again in 2020.

Dirty Kanza

My experience at Dirty Kanza in Emporia, Kansas was rocky to say the least. Multiple flat tires with sidewall tears took me completely out of contention in the 100-mile edition. Though my bad luck here sidetracked my goals, I learned a lot this day.

I learned that the cycling community is generous and thriving. Maxxis provided me two new tires because they wanted to see me finish. They wouldn’t let me quit, and I’m thankful for that. Their tires brought me home, and the second half of my ride was such a great experience.

USAC CX Nationals

Despite Cyclocross Nationals taking place on the west coast in Tacoma, Washington, I was lucky enough to attend and race myself. MFG Cyclocross constructed and performed one of the best cyclocross courses and events I’ve been to in years.

We partied hard and hosted many friends throughout the week. We also enjoyed quality time among our team to bond and prepare for the new year ahead.

2019 was a big year. I attended 23 events in 11 different states while traveling nearly 25,000 miles through an additional seven states. I moved from North Carolina to Colorado and learned the balance of life on the road, maintaining a healthy marriage and found a renewed vigor for riding bikes of all kinds. I am so excited to see what 2020 has ahead.

Vince Camiolo, East Coast Marketing Manager

East Coast by Vince Camiolo

Santos Fat Tire Festival

Being based in the Northeast US, late February is about the time my tolerance for heading out on rides dressed like Randy from “A Christmas Story” reaches an all season low. This year was my third southbound trip to the Santos Fat Tire Festival in Ocala, Florida. The idea of a mountain bike festival in central Florida may evoke some side-eye glances, and for my inaugural Santos in 2017 I was simply excited by the prospect of winter riding bathed in warm sun on bare skin. However, the event itself and the Santos trails made the festival a highlight of my year independent of the escape from Philly winters, and 2019 was no different. The expo and demo-oriented festival is well organized, well attended and maintains a grass-roots feel. The organizers are friendly, helpful and go out of their way to make the vendors feel appreciated. And the food trucks are some of the best I’ve encountered at a cycling event.

The Santos trails, while not at all mountainous, are certainly unique, providing fast flow through dense green forests of sand pine and scrub oak draped in hanging moss. The area even offers the Vortex Freeride Area to ensure all levels and styles of mountain bikers are satisfied.

Dirt Rag Dirt Fest PA

While Santos Fat Tire Festival is technically the first mountain bike festival of the season, the Northeast has to wait a couple more months to officially open their season. And even then, as exemplified by the conditions at Dirt Fest PAs of the past, Pennsylvania weather in mid May can be unpredictable and far from ideal. Although Dirt Fest PA manages to be a great time despite the weather, 2019′s conditions propelled it to an easy choice for this 2019 event highlight list.

The sun stayed out, the sleeves stayed short, the wonderfully flowy Allegrippis trails stayed dry and camaraderie and celebration of mountain biking flourished.

RAGBRAI

I probably don’t have to explain what the Register’s Annual Great Big Ride Across Iowa is, but it is challenging to convey the impressive scale of the event to someone who hasn’t witnessed it for themselves. Although the official rider number is sub-10,000, more accurate estimates generally hover north of 30,000. Needless to say BikeFlights.com is busy every July getting the bikes of many of those riders to and from the event. As the lone on-the-ground BikeFlights.com representative it’s also needless to say that my days around the start and end of RAGBRAI were also quite busy this year. Opportunities to eat and sleep during those days were at a major premium. But RAGBRAI makes this list for the time between the start and end during which -- in addition to catching up on sleep and resting my feet -- I got to explore opportunities Iowa offers in three of my favorite things: mountain biking, coffee and baseball. And it delivered on all three.

Iowa may not be on anyone’s short list as a premiere mountain biking destination, but the small trail systems maintained by local organizations that dot the state are impressive and a much appreciated reprieve from many hours of windshield time in the BikeFlights.com van.

It was also fun to see how the Iowa host towns embraced RAGBRAI.

JDRF Ride to Cure Diabetes La Crosse

Every year the Juvenile Diabetes Research Fund puts on at least five fundraising rides across the country. They’ve raised more than $47 million dollars for “research to deliver life-changing therapies and, one day, a cure for type 1 diabetes (T1D)” and we’re proud to be an integral partner in helping the ambitious fundraising cyclists get their bikes to and from each event.

The Mississippi River town of La Crosse, Wisconsin is traditionally the host of the first JDRF Ride event of the season. It’s a wonderful opportunity for me to connect in person with the organizers and bike team with whom I work closely all year, and spend some time in a great Midwest river town. Thanks to The Root Note for keeping me fueled with great coffee and vegan crepes on a daily basis!

Philly Bike Expo

Ok, it’s true I’m a born-and-raised-unapologetically-Philly-prideful-never-not-wearing-a-Phillies-hat kind of person, but I swear I’m not unfairly biased in declaring the Philly Bike Expo as one of the best events of the year. The volume and diversity of attendees, ranging from casual commuters to bike messengers to professional racers of all disciplines, makes it a no-brainer for vendors of all types. What really sets it apart, however, is the social dynamic coursing through the veins of the show. The big players are there, but it’s clear the small frame builders and makers run the show. Remember in high school when the punk kids had that party and the jocks finally realized they were cool and asked if they could come? Maybe not. But the Philly Bike Expo is kind of like that.

Philly Bike Expo was also an opportunity to bring star Support Team member and personified sunshine Marci out to meet BikeFlights.com customers old and future (and perform some bubble trumpet).

This year marked my third and, sad to say, final year on the road full-time for BikeFlights.com. It was another great year spreading the good word of BikeFlights.com and working with partner events ensuring their participants can conveniently get their bikes and gear to and from the event. And although I’ll continue with BikeFlights.com in a modified capacity, I’m looking forward to pursuing a dream, along with my wife Natalie, opening a coffee roastery and cafe in Trenton, New Jersey, One Up One Down Coffee.

#bikeflights #packshipride #shipitandripit #nahbs #seaotterclassic #sturdydirty #sscxwcut19

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diversechildliteraturereviews · 6 years ago

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Buitrago, J. (2015). Two white rabbits. Toronto, Ontario: Groundwood Books.

Illustrated by Rafael Yockteng. Translated by Elisa Amado.

Review #8

Two White Rabbits (Buitrago & Yockteng, 2015) is a children’s picturebook that provides readers with a great example of the symbiotic power of books to tell stories through text and illustration. There are multiple stories, from multiple perspectives being told in this picturebook - one is told through first-person narration from the perspective of a young girl traveling somewhere with her father; another is told through third-person point of view illustrations of people we believe are from somewhere in Central America - with the father and daughter as the primary protagonists - seeking a new life and place to live away from their home, traveling across multiple borders over several days and nights, relying on the assistance of coyotes to help them make safe passage to the U.S.; and yet another is told through the first-person illustrated narration of a father’s perspective on a migration journey from somewhere in Central America to the U.S.

Getting to the aforementioned took several readings of this text. My initial reading of Two White Rabbits (Buitrago & Yockteng, 2015) yielded a childlike version of a migration story. Perhaps, this was because I was reading the story as told from a young child’s perspective. Such a reading provided me with the tale of a young girl and her Papá, setting out on a journey - a trip to somewhere from somewhere - neither place is explicitly stated.

At the opening of the text on the title page we see the two of them getting ready to set out on their travel. Papá has a backpack on his back and the little girl, seated on the floor, has a few items in a small backpack, a t-shirt laying next to her on the floor, as she examines her toy bunny. I predict that she will take the toy bunny with her. They both appear to be in good spirits. I assume that this journey is a welcome one; one that they are excited to embark on. The two are smiling as they walk down the sidewalk - the little girl seated on her Papá’s shoulders; her Papá cheerfully and lovingly looking at his daughter. It is as though they are flying - arms outstretched, they glide down the street, all around them is blanked out as if they are surrounded by the clouds and the expanse and possibilities. They have each other; they travel together.

“When we travel, I count what I see,” says the little girl. There are many pauses in this text - spaces where we, the readers, imagine that the little girl is pausing possibly to count and make observations of her surroundings. At these pauses, there are no words, only the images of her surroundings. It is during these moments that we see the hens and their chicks, the muddy waters, the make-shift rafts, the boxes, the cars and truck that cross the bridge overhead, and a sign that signals “Frontera”; the many other travelers and coyotes running to board the cargo train; the train traveling amidst and amongst the trees into the desert; and finally the two white rabbits hopping off into the desert. These moments where there are no words, seem to evoke so many questions, which makes sense because she appears to not know where she is going and asks, “Where are we going?” but she never gets a response.

Maybe this is because she is young and hopeful...she skips on the railroad tracks and “When we travel, I count the people who live by the train tracks. “There are people,” says my dad, “who live by the tracks.” It is almost as if she is oblivious of the circumstances of the travelers by the tracks, or her own circumstances. She does not see her father’s concerns or fear. For her, this appears to be more of an adventure. While traveling, sometimes they stop so that her dad can work. “Papá works while we wait, just the same as usual,” she says. She makes friends and plays along the way too. Again, we see that she perhaps is living in the clouds and does not understand what is truly going on - she appears unsure of why “The boy and his grandmother look at us the way people we meet on the road look at us.” Again, she does not see the look on her father’s face as they say “Goodbye” yet again to more people on their journey. As she questions the rabbits about where they are headed, she again misses the expression of concern on her Papá’s face as he counts the few dollars in his wallet. As the story draws to a close, she is laying in the bed of the pickup truck as it travels across the desert and her Papá is resting. She gazes at the skies and counts the stars and the moon. She says, “sometimes I see soldiers, but I don’t count them anymore. There are about a hundred.”

It would appear as though, all things worthy of counting to her are important to her and her life story. Though she may seem oblivious of what is going on, she is very perceptive - she is aware of the soldiers and other people who mean them harm. She wishes that they didn’t have to encounter such people, seen when she spoke about the soldiers and when she says, “I dream that I am moving, that I’m not stopping. But we do stop. Because the people who are taking us don’t always take us where we are going.”

For my second reading of Two White Rabbits (Buitrago & Yockteng, 2015), I shift my gaze from that of the little girl’s perspective and telling of the story to the third-person point of view illustrations of people we believe are from somewhere in Central America - with the father and daughter as the primary protagonists - seeking a new life and place to live away from their home, traveling across multiple borders over several days and nights, relying on the assistance of coyotes to help them make safe passage to the U.S. As I read, I zoom in on chucho. “Five cows, four hens and one chucho, as my dad calls them.” As the chucho is described here, it would appear as though it is a part of the natural landscape. Chucho walks amongst them as though it belongs there. But would a chucho be a friend?

As the story opens, we see Papá introducing his young daughter to one chucho - a coyote. This is very important because when learning of the immigration journey of many people who immigrate to the United States from Central America through Mexico, I have heard of the people referred to as coyote who help them make their way to the border. The coyote in this story is seen negotiating travel for Papá and his daughter on the banks of the muddy river they must cross to begin their journey. As coyote approaches the young man who will steer the make-shift raft, he stands at attention and salutes coyote. Coyote then travels with Papá and the little girl across the river and to the border. Coyote then takes Papá and the little girl to the train tracks - it appears to be a known stop where several others have gathered and set up make-shift tents and sleeping and eating quarters while they wait for the train to arrive. There are other coyotes there too. When the train arrives, the coyotes and those accompanying them all run to the train. Once “aboard” the train, Papá and his little girl are seated while the coyote stands and it is as though he is circling his prey (my words; my impression). It is obvious that this is not a passenger train. Many people ride precariously on the tops and sides of the cargo train as it moves from the lush green landscape towards the desert.

As night falls and the train continues moving, coyote can be seen seated looking up at the moon and the night sky. At daybreak, an unexpected stop shows soldiers arresting some of the train’s passengers. Coyote, Papá and the little girl manage to escape. Following their near escape of capture and arrest, coyote, Papá and the little girl are shown on one side of the street with the soldiers on the other; separated by the many cars and trucks traveling on the road. Coyote’s tail is down between his legs; his body posture says retreat or fear. His glance back at the soldiers suggests that it is not the end...he will try again.

The train that they travelled aboard is known as the beast/ la Bestia, and many persons wishing to migrate to the United States from Central America, risk their lives traveling on the cargo trains, unable to pay for less dangerous forms of transportation. You can learn more about la Bestia from the article found at this link:

https://www.migrationpolicy.org/article/central-american-migrants-and-%E2%80%9Cla-bestia%E2%80%9D-route-dangers-and-government-responses

At one of the stops near the border, coyote helps Papá find work at a fruit and vegetable store. While Papá works, carrying the box of apples, coyote moves around possibly working on the next move. When “the truck that is going to take [Papá and his little girl to the border] arrives,” Papá and his little girl pack their belongings and themselves into the back, open bed of the pickup truck. Coyote is seated in the front, passenger side, he looks at the woman with whom Papá was working as though he may not see her again. Through the night, as they travel through the desert, Papá is resting, his little girl gazing at the night sky, but coyote’s eyes are alert and fixed facing forward. At daybreak, the two white rabbits are released from the box; they hop away in the desert. The landscape is sparse and the border wall appears ominously - it extends from edge to edge as though never-ending and impregnable. Coyote is no where in sight.

Two White Rabbits (Buitrago & Yockteng, 2015), regardless of the perspective or point of view from which it is told or read, leaves readers with an unfinished story. What happens to Papá and his little girl? Why have they risked so much to get to this point? What awaits them beyond the wall? An afterword by Patricia Aldana, President of IBBY Foundation poses the question of “What do those of us who have safe comfortable lives owe to people who do not?”

Buitrago & Yockteng provide teachers with the opportunity to make the stories of those once invisible visible. Through the reading and sharing of this story, we open the door to experiences of persons - much like ourselves - who are members of loving families and hard workers looking for a place to call home. Additionally, we illuminate the injustice(s) that many immigrants from Central America face, and can hopefully begin to work towards changing policies and laws that seek to dehumanize and criminalize those who only seek a better life/lives for themselves and their families.

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earth16comicswire · 5 years ago

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MeSsed

Creator/Writer: Jay B. Kalagayan

Artist(s): Geof Raker

Logo Design: Geoff Raker

I have had the awesome opportunity to read Cincinnati-based Jay B. Kalagayan’s MeSsed comic, which takes place in the mean sewers of the public utility: the Metropolitan Sewer System or MSD.

The comic centers around filter, or sewer worker, Lilliput who has to brave the mean sewers of the MSD to keep the effluent, or waste, flowing. When I read the file in the comic which states that Lilliput’s “fellow sewer workers” whine, I was reminded by what podcaster and radio host Ken Coleman said about “the unfortunate reality” being “that 70% of Americans aren’t satisfied with their current work situation.” The same could definitely be said for most of the filters who work for the MSD but, not Lilliput who is described to be “tough, smart and adaptable.”

Lilliput is seen as dedicated to her mission to keep the waste clean by any means necessary. An example of this is in the Volume One story “Choke”, when she fights a creature that was clogging the sewer system.

We also learn that she is an orphan and also described to “seek familial bonds.” We see this several times throughout the comic with her interactions with her pet rat or “partner-in-slime,” Akka who is a very dependable as her master and is the closest thing to family Lilliput has. In the MeSsed Volume Two story Messenger, Akka goes through hell and back to send help for Lilliput by forging an alliance with a centipede name Footsie, while going toward a deadly swarm of centipedes.

Another instance where MesSed goes into depth about Lilliput being an orphan is an conversation with an alligator hatchling name Bekka. Bekka was cast off from the Allicroc tribe, a tribe of alligators living in the sewer, due to not being wanted by their chief. Bekka asks Lilliput what is like being orphaned and the sewer work tells her that it is tough but she gives it a positive spin on it by saying that “amongst the flotsam jetsam, you get to choose your family. Pick new friends, siblings, parents.” This shows that despite working in the sewer and even being orphaned, Lilliput has a very sunny disposition.

While reading MeSsed, I was introduced to a strange world, but a world that is similar to our own. Like our world, the world of the MSD has groups like the filters (workers, like our heroine Lilliput, who keep the effluent flowing), Residents of the Roots (homless, bunker people, and others), Allicroc tribe, centipedes, and rats. The Allicroc tribe has a peace treaty of sorts with the MSD. In addition, Bekka was given to MSD as a liaison to further keep the peace between them and the public utility.

MeSsed has an ensemble of characters. The aforementioned Lilliput and her pet Akka are the dynamic duo in this comic. Next is Fat Mucker, the MSD manager of operations. She is described by Lilliput to be a “crazy aunt,” Fat Mucker also composes the files or reports at the end of each issue. Another character (a favorite of mine) is Plity, an eccentric inventor who lives in the sewers and creates some gadgets for Lilliput and other MSD workers. In the Volume Two comic “Echoes,” Plity invents a device called an “echolo” which helps sewer workers see in the dark with the use of sound. he also seen as not being afraid of Fat Mucket by being blunt about the timeliness of her inventions which the MSD manager demands. The character reminds of “Q” from the James Bond movies; so she’s like a “Q” who operates in the sewers. Another character is Sandshell who is another filter and Kidneyshell, who is the MSD Treatment Manager.

If you want to read something unique, unorthodox, or out of the box, this is the comic to read. It doesn’t take place in a typical city or town, a planet in another galaxy, a distant future, a certain past, a apocalyptic time, or whenever or wherever. It takes place in a sewer of all places. A smelly and dangerous sewer where people actually live, monsters clog up the system, and alligators talk. That’s the world of MeSsed.

Lilliput-The Heroine of the story

Akka-Lilliput’s pet and most trusted partner

If you also like black and white art, that this is definitely the comic worth reading. The gritty black and white art done by Dylan Speeg and Clint Basinger brings out some noir vibes. It also evokes the feelings of working in the sewers all the while the character of Lilliput brings out her colorful personality. This is the comic’s yin and yang and it goes perfectly together.

Kalagayan created a story about a young woman who is just going through life working in a sewer but also making it her purpose (sometimes risking her own life) to keep the water flowing. Lilliput to the MSD sewer system is like Superman to Metropolis or if you want to go another route, Lilliput to the MSD sewer system is like Clark Kent to the Daily Planet. After all, Lilliput is both an employee and guardian of the MSD sewer system.

And to me, this comic represents that, like Lilliput, we can make the best of anything, even in the most stinkiest(which I knew the MSD sewer system is) of situations. It is possible that Kalagayan might have unwittingly wrote an affirmation in the form of a comic book about a young orphaned woman who, if she wanted to, could have played victim and blame the world for her misfortune. But that young woman, in my opinion, is living her best life by adhering to her mission. And I find that awesome and heroic.

I am looking forward to reading more MesSed and see how Lilliput continues to grow and how she tackles her challenges in the sewer and in her life. After all, this comic reminds me that life is like the sewer, we need to be there to keep the effluent flowing so that nothing gets clogged up in the chokes.

Review: MeSseD Comic MeSsed Creator/Writer: Jay B. Kalagayan Artist(s): Geof Raker Logo Design: Geoff Raker I have had the awesome opportunity to read Cincinnati-based Jay B.

#Cinncinati #Clint Basinger #Geoff Raker #Indiegogo #Jay B. Kalagayan #MeSsed

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disneygeekcom · 5 years ago

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Disneyland Resort Debuts all-new ‘Magic Happens’ Parade Feb. 28, 2020, with Magical Moments from Beloved Disney and Pixar Stories including ‘Frozen 2,’ ‘Coco,’ ‘Moana’ and More

New daytime spectacular brings a joyous, regal and whimsical procession to guests of all ages at Disneyland Park

‘Magic Happens’ features stunning floats with Disney characters, imaginative music co-composed by singer-songwriter Todrick Hall, artistic costumes and modern choreography

ANAHEIM, Calif. (Jan. 21, 2020) – Disneyland Resort will debut its all-new “Magic Happens” parade at Disneyland Park on Feb. 28, 2020. The incredible “Magic Happens” daytime spectacular celebrates the awe-inspiring moments of magic that are at the heart of so many Disney stories. This new parade, led by Mickey Mouse and his pals, celebrates moments of magic from Walt Disney Animation Studios and Pixar Animation Studios films as they are brought to life on a grand scale with stunning floats, artistic costumes and a surprising and energetic musical score combined with beloved Disney tunes.

“When you come to Disneyland and Disney California Adventure, there are so many ways to immerse yourself in our stories, but a parade is a unique experience because it’s the only way for you, as the audience, to stay in one place and have so many stories, characters and magical moments pass right in front of you,” said David Duffy, creative director for Disney Live Entertainment. “We’ve designed the ‘Magic Happens’ floats so that characters, scenes and surprises are revealed a little at a time, making each float a journey of discovery.”

“Magic Happens” includes something for everyone and will be enjoyed by guests of all ages. This new parade features nine newly designed floats, highlighting magic from classic Walt Disney Animation Studios tales such as “The Sword in the Stone,” “Cinderella” and “Sleeping Beauty,” to more recent stories including “Frozen 2,” “Moana” and “The Princess and the Frog,” as well as Disney and Pixar’s “Coco.” The new floats were created as pieces of moving art, with their lines and aesthetic design working to tell a story along the parade route, while also evoking a sense of magic.

“This parade celebrates the way magic affects both the characters in the stories and the guests who are watching,” says Jordan Peterson, show director for Disney Live Entertainment. “‘Magic Happens’ is like a love letter to those special transformative moments.”

In addition to the stunning floats, the parade route along Main Street, U.S.A., will be filled with dynamic performers and more than two dozen Disney and Pixar characters. The parade’s costume design draws inspiration directly from modern runways, making each costume look fashion-forward, yet uniquely Disney. Many performers and characters in “Magic Happens” will don all-new costumes, specifically made for this parade.

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While the music and stories seen in “Magic Happens” are rooted in iconic Disney lore, the soundtrack and choreography are heavily influenced by today’s pop culture designers, putting a contemporary spin on the classic Disney hits. “Magic Happens” features an energetic musical score and new songs, co-composed by singer-songwriter, Todrick Hall.

“This is a full circle moment for me,” said Hall, who began his career at Walt Disney World Resort in Florida as a performer in “Beauty and the Beast – Live on Stage.” “I learned how to dance from watching Disney parades, so the fact that I am getting to create the music that these iconic Disney characters are going to be performing to is pretty much the most epic thing that has happened to me in my life!”

“Magic Happens” is a whimsical and joyous procession that allows the Disney magic to shine through. The parade features distinct stories with a mix of characters, making it feel contemporary and classic, fun and regal, and surprising and familiar – all at the same time. Highlights of the all-new “Magic Happens” parade include:

Mickey Mouse leads the way, gliding along on glistening swirls of magic emanating from a giant, iridescent magical hat. Minnie Mouse, Donald Duck, Goofy, Pluto and Chip ‘n Dale join in, dancing along with a group of eclectic and artsy performers representing stylized aspects of magic.

Depicted in this image on her voyager canoe, Moana journeys forth on the crest of a towering wave, inspired by beautiful koa wood carvings, and inset with dazzling, animated glimpses into the magic the ocean holds. (Disney)

On her voyager canoe, Moana journeys forth on the crest of a towering wave, inspired by beautiful koa wood carvings, and inset with dazzling, animated glimpses into the magic the ocean holds. This is the first full-scale “Moana”-inspired float to be created for a Disney park.

Depicted in this image, guiding Moana on her journey is Maui, who travels along on his own magical piece of the islands with Moana’s adorable pet pig, Pua. (Disney)

Joining Moana on her journey is Maui, who travels along on his own magical piece of the islands with Moana’s adorable pet pig, Pua. Maui makes his official Disneyland Resort debut in “Magic Happens.”

Depicted in this image, Miguel appears in person for the first time, celebrating the magic that happens when he strums the guitar of Ernesto de la Cruz in the Disney and Pixar film “Coco.” This spectacular float connects the Land of the Living and the Land of the Dead with a vibrant marigold bridge, and fantastical alebrije spirit animals join the procession, along with Miguel’s dog Danté. (Disney)

Miguel appears in person for the first time, celebrating the magic that happens when he strums the guitar of Ernesto de la Cruz in the Disney and Pixar film “Coco.” This spectacular float connects the Land of the Living and the Land of the Dead with a vibrant marigold bridge, and fantastical alebrije spirit animals join the procession, along with Miguel’s dog Danté. This is the first time the film “Coco” has inspired a float for a Disney Parks parade.

Depicted in this image, from Walt Disney Animation Studios’ “Frozen 2,” Anna and Elsa explore the mysteries of an enchanted forest protected by Nokk, the mystical water spirit, as their friends Kristoff, Sven and Olaf tag along. (Disney)

From “Frozen 2,” Anna and Elsa explore the mysteries of the Enchanted Forest protected by the Nokk, the mystical water spirit, as their friends Kristoff, Sven and Olaf tag along.

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Depicted in this image, Cinderella is seen inside a grand pumpkin, just as it magically transforms into a glistening carriage to whisk her off to the ball. (Disney)

Depicted in this image, Tiana and Naveen from “The Princess and the Frog” are seen amidst a swirl of golden flowers where they share a kiss, completing their transformation back into human forms. (Disney)

Depicted in this image, Merlin from “The Sword in the Stone” wisely leads the way for young Arthur, who finds the magic within himself as he pulls the sword from the stone, claiming his place upon the throne. (Disney)

Depicted in this image, the regal grand finale of “Magic Happens” celebrates magical moments from several classic Disney stories, including the happily-ever-after scene from “Sleeping Beauty” with a trio of fairies and Princess Aurora’s gown shimmering between hues of pink and blue. (Disney)

The regal grand finale of “Magic Happens” celebrates magical moments from several classic Disney stories. The start of the finale brings together a collection of many iconic magical characters, including Genie, Aladdin, Tinker Bell, Peter Pan, Blue Fairy, Pinocchio and Fairy Godmother. These characters lead the way as more floats are introduced, each highlighting the moments of magic that changed the characters’ lives:

From “Cinderella,” guests watch the moment of “Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo” as Cinderella is seen inside a grand pumpkin, just as it magically transforms into a glistening carriage to whisk her off to the ball.

From “The Sword in the Stone,” Merlin wisely leads the way for young Arthur, who finds the magic within himself as he pulls the sword from the stone, claiming his place upon the throne.

Tiana and Naveen from “The Princess and the Frog” are seen amidst a swirl of golden flowers where they share a kiss, completing their transformation back into human forms.

The happily-ever-after scene from “Sleeping Beauty” features the three good fairies and Princess Aurora, whose gown shimmers between hues of pink and blue.

Spring is a great time to visit the Disneyland Resort and experience the new “Magic Happens” parade, as the resort is offering special, limited-time ticket and hotel offers. Kids everywhere* along with Southern California residents** may visit the theme parks for as low as $67 per person, per day with 3-day, 1-park per day tickets through May 21, 2020. And guests who stay and play in the heart of the magic can enjoy special savings with room offers at the Hotels of the Disneyland Resort. Hotel guests can save up to 25 percent off select rooms, Sunday-Thursday nights, based upon availability through April 16, 2020.*** Guests can learn more about these offers at Disneyland.com.

* Offer valid for children ages 3-9. Tickets expire 13 days after the first day of use or on May 21, 2020, whichever occurs first. Each day of use constitutes one full day of use. Tickets are nonrefundable, may not be sold or transferred for commercial use and exclude activities/events separately priced. Offer may not be combined with other ticket discounts or promotions. Subject to capacity, restrictions and change without notice.

** Valid only for Southern California residents within ZIP codes 90000-93599 and Northern Baja California residents within ZIP codes 21000-22999; proof of eligible residency, including valid government-issued photo ID, is required for purchase and admission. Tickets expire May 21, 2020. Each day of use constitutes one full day of use. May purchase up to 5 tickets per eligible person per day with valid ID. Tickets are nonrefundable, may not be sold or transferred for commercial use and exclude activities/events separately priced. Offer may not be combined with other ticket discounts or promotions. Subject to capacity, restrictions and change without notice.

*** Savings based on the non-discounted price for the same room at the same hotel. Travel must be completed by April 17, 2020. Premium room types included in offer are Premium, Deluxe and Woods/Garden/Courtyard rooms; select Concierge rooms; and only Paradise, Artisan, Junior and Regal suites. Not valid on previously booked rooms. Advance reservations required. Subject to availability as the number of rooms allocated for this offer is limited. Excludes applicable fees and taxes. Limit two (2) rooms per reservation and occupancy restrictions apply per room. Not valid in combination with any other hotel discounts or offers. Subject to restrictions and change without notice. Separate Theme Park admission required to enjoy the Parks.

#MagicHappens Parade Debuts @ #Disneyland on Feb 28 (Disney Information & Concept Art) #MagicHappensParade Disneyland Resort Debuts all-new ‘Magic Happens’ Parade Feb. 28, 2020, with Magical Moments from Beloved Disney and Pixar Stories including ‘Frozen 2,’ ‘Coco,’ ‘Moana’ and More…

#Parade

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presta-hero · 6 years ago

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Essay for Love: Ancient Approach

I provides my grandma and grandpa that I would adhere to them for a few years in the summer months, after a finish my school term. When providing love description, we find the item appropriate to turn to an explanatory dictionary. For modern absolutely love essays, they give us distressing warnings.

The philosophical and anthropological problem of love emerged previously, in olden days. So , here I am, moving along an old time graveled roads, breathing in fresh new rural atmosphere and looking forward to meeting my favorite dear relatives. A concept that every other love is because love on the way to yourself will start gaining popularity. In this property, a hundred stretches from the location I live life, I ultimately feel at home.

The philosophy of love has been seen diversely in every amount of human progress, depending on important and national environment. Many works about appreciate point out that an individuality appeared to be considered as a part of society back then, that is why man or women interests were definitely strongly bound to public products.

The final objective of love would gain growing old either by simply worshipping Aphrodite Pandemos in addition to giving birth to help children as well as by worshipping Aphrodite Urania and learning intellectual function. Nonetheless , classical longevity brings precisely this know-how about love.

We advise one more plan of distinction, which is while using specifics of any relationship concerning two subjects: My grandpa and grandma break into joy, and I come closer to these to embrace my favorite nearest men and women. What is more necessary, love adjusted its route from a specific person to the whole humanity. I can find out their house on the distance.

Renaissance leaves together each of the previous experiences and gives beginning to numerous treatises, in which humanism occupies the most important place, even while love is actually a simple people feeling. Most likely this is the most fascinating and common subjects while in the history with philosophy. PurEssay offers exclusively quality authoring from professionals in this field.

I will really need to remind the grandparents again to change the place where they keep the key. I am unable to tell you precisely how proud my grandparents are generally of their family home. Now it is time to go into and to interact with my grandmother and grandfather. There exist a lot of parts of view towards the moment as soon as love very first appeared.

To be a human developed psychologically, absolutely love acquired completely new complicated options and got innovative forms and the theoretic examination. This can be a two-storied, regal building cloaked in a distinctive atmosphere within the previous one hundred year. I just enter a significant living room, urgentessay.net just where my horrific lies on a sofa, browsing his classifieds, and the grandmother rich waters her property plants.

Through earliest period, human feelings were mainly connected with intuition, and like was not a definite phenomenon. At the same time, they find a way to take care of your garden: a beautiful spot, full of fragrant flowers in addition to branchy forest that forged their dark areas on wood made benches. I like this how the place stays neat in summers, resembling an authentic heaven on the planet in the world of hellish heat.

My great-grandfather built this for her family a lot of decades before, and he would you think his employment conscientiously. Selfish relative person won’t acknowledge the value of the other and is eager to accomplish only his or her own needs. Take a look at first of all try to classify all of our understanding of like and find out what kinds it you can easily name.

Web site approach deeper, I can previously make out smart windows, coloured in white. While our grandparents loaf on the job for a while inside or maybe work not in the patio, the dog whenever manages to greet my family before them. Then he acknowledges me, my dear Oscar, and gets going wagging its tail, going towards all of us. Ancient Greeks’ first consideration was studying the world, in support of after that installed childbirth.

Oscar is actually the first one to fulfill me in this article. Really, no matter what hot here this time in the year. Really like originated due to socialization about instincts: intuition of self-preservation, which in such a way united people, and reproductive : instinct, combined with maternal sensations, which established certain sentimental closeness.

Any middle ages essay regarding love declares that enjoy towards The almighty is the exclusively true love, although chastity could be the only advantage. Almost every thinker one or more times tried to define or discuss love. Essay for Love: Ancient Approach

In that essay at love, PurEssay team will tell you how the perception of this thought evolved after a while. Unpretentious love the motivation to give up your own interests for the sake of your loved one. I fiddle together with heavy hair, soft and even pleasant to the touch; however , I find myself pity with the creature that must be suffering from tremendous heat less than this membrane of fashion.

Seeing that women were not fit meant for philosophy, relationship only preoccupied their partners from believing. In addition to Desire, there were a tad bit more gods of love in Artistic mythology exactly who played essential roles additionally. The origin of love presents a very disputable subject. This type of enjoy is ideal since it leads to balance and a normal state connected with human internal.

The house seems fabulous and unreal, as though it steered clear of from a fairy story and tried to get misplaced among different houses on the village yet failed. Of course, she has a great deal of them, the two inside and out of doors. The love in between, which usually presents often the golden imply, implying in which both people today present same value in a very relationship and tend to be eager to survive for each additional.

This matter is still topical even in the modern world, and now you will get to it. Foundation of love has got several ways to classifying idea. Our creating company finds it necessary to seek out some info in the tradition of early Greece. This process is usually indefinite for the reason that human trend still keeps going.

Your backyard is clean, only a floral population raise most of their buds into the sun, and also to the stones, as if looking for life-giving elements. I can odour freshly manufactured pastry someplace in the kitchen, along with a warm feeling of coziness covers my coronary heart. Physical violence and by simply seem to suppress love in the modern tradition.

But 2 men could achieve far more together, purpose Aristotle assumed that enjoy was comparable to friendship. Whenever i enter the front side gate, your pet dog looks at all of us suspiciously as well as barks once or twice. It truly is one often the presents of which my grandfather prepared personally when I had been little. Each epoch had their philosophers, research psychologists, sociologists together with other scientific brains who anxious themselves using love.

When i deeply inhale local atmosphere, and I stench a hint with flowers, quite possibly, my grandmother’s asters, nevertheless they may as well be any other think about because Me not very good during them. Love is put into the low, impolite Aphrodite Pandemos and the incredible Aphrodite Urania. Neo-Platonism develops, very, with its fans relying on Plato’s theories.

After I invest some time with the canine, I look into it for this grandparents, still I cannot find them any where outside. Industrial population is focused at consumerism; large production and even new technological know-how lead to a far more rationalized way of life. But only attitude could predetermine what kind of enjoy it was. Modern day lexicographers clarify love being a feeling of passion, but also because attraction this provokes sexual desire.

These kinds of prognoses will be dangerous to our society given that mechanized romances between people speak of inhumanity. This destination gets cozier every year. I wide open a heavy oak door along with a little crucial hidden below the welcome f?da. Some analysts believe that innovations in love would be rational together with deprived with emotions.

That is why many countries assist organizations and even movements of which promote standard family valuations. Our services make your school life simple and easy productive. The item depended on readers’ values, sociable patterns, perception of themselves and various other human beings.

This type of concepts like sympathy, benevolence and likely-hood became topical oils and element of that period. As I the actual building, the atmosphere around myself becomes awesome, and I like feeling precisely how my body relax down, as well. The v?ldigt bra Eros appears on phase; he is a strong unpredictable and even demanding the almighty, who evokes fear on other people perhaps even other gods.

Some people for their essays regarding love recommend dividing that into increased and decreased. In our short go about appreciate, we will keep to the opinion which love sprang out together with people because a people always expected communication plus close romances with very much the same beings. In the event ancient Greeks followed the principle of beauty, medieval modern society switched to principle for morality.

So , here, PurEssay provided the definition of love, enumerated it has the main models and explained to you what sort of notion of affection has evolved eventually. Later this attitude fades away, and the great start having interested in their very own feelings together with psychological factors. What I can tell for certain is that the stench is simply terrific, even though hardly ever perceptible.

These cases give agricultural soil towards the so-called purchaser love, as their characteristic characteristics are limited by low erectile culture and also lack of meekness. When it comes to Christianity, it gravely condemns human relationships outside photographer and care for corporal pastimes as low in addition to sinful. Our writers can create a identical essay in your academic demands or to create a work on a certain topic.

In Old love totally conformed that will religion. I am excited as always because immediately I am heading to my grandparents’ country bachelor’s pad. Other researchers single out unique variations of love, subject to its recipient: sexual like, paternal really enjoy, patriotic enjoy, love regarding God etc . The house is dealt with with a thick layer of light blue coloration that was clearly more saturated a year ago, still has disappeared due to the very hot sun with this territory.

My spouse and i still really like swinging there with a reserve in my present, pretending which drift off and then rise in remote countries. A single tree possibly even has a hand-made swing hanging from it. People start expressing out this emotion among ordre and even will fear it all.

It results emergence of lyric finery, which results in being the leading branch of poetry. The grandparents are generally constantly perfecting changing the interior of the house.

The post Essay for Love: Ancient Approach appeared first on Presta Hero.

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