#no children by the mountain goats playing on repeat in my head about it

[whorelyyy]

Drunk crying at the bar is totally a normal & well adjusted thing to do, right?

Raz, fueled by a caffeine-induced buzz from unpacking well past midnight, found herself wide awake. She thought all her hard work deserved a reward, so she ventured to one of Oasis's only bars, The Watering Hole. The bar was walking distance from her new place, so she figured she could treat herself to a few drinks and not have to worry about driving. When she reached the bar, it was quiet. She ordered a vodka soda, a simple yet satisfying reward for her hard work.

Sipping her drink, she scanned the bar, taking in its plain, lackluster atmosphere. Was this a typical Wednesday night here? With only a handful of patrons, including herself and the bartender, the place felt lonely. As someone tinkered with the jukebox, she braced herself for the predictable twang of a pro-USA country anthem. To her surprise, the familiar chords of The Mountain Goats' "Up the Wolves" filled the air.

“How depressed do you have to be to play The Mountain Goats at the bar?” she whispered to herself, her irritation mounting with every note. The sheer absurdity of it made her angry, prompting her to question the sanity—or lack thereof—of whoever dared to play such an offbeat choice. “What a cry for help…” she whispered to herself, finishing her drink.

As the song played on she unconsciously found herself singing along, muscle memory from playing the song on repeat when she was younger and much more depressed.

“There's gonna come a day when you'll feel better, you'll rise up free and easy on that day and float from branch to branch, lighter than the air. Just when that day is coming, who can say? Who can say?”

As she choked out the last line, tears welled in her eyes. Damn it, this was the last thing she needed. No dredging up the past, just forward, always forward.

She angrily brushed away her tears, refusing to let some damn goat band ruin her night. Hell-bent on making the most of her hard-earned celebration, she ordered another vodka soda, this time a double. The bartender, with her generous pour, swiftly complied, and Raz welcomed the extra dose of liquid comfort. Yet, as she sipped her drink, her mood soured further when the same guy rose to select another song, this time he chose "No Children" by the Mountain Goats.

“You’re fucking kidding me.” She fussed loudly.

The guy who played the song glanced her way, his eyes carrying a haunting emptiness. He offered no emotion, no acknowledgment, just drank his beer and crooned along to what can only be described as the epitome of despair. He kept his gaze locked on Raz before exchanging words with the bartender. Behind the counter, the woman swiftly filled four shot glasses with vodka. Uninterested in witnessing a man drown his sorrows, Raz turned her attention to her phone. No new messages. Not that she should be surprised; he had made sure she was alone right until the end.

“Can’t have you running off and telling someone our business, my business.” echoed in her head.

She shuddered, forcefully suppressing the memory. Before Raz could grasp the situation, two shots materialized before her. The bartender gestured toward the man orchestrating tonight's gloomy playlist as she darted off to serve another patron. Locking eyes with the man, he raised his glass, nodded, and downed the first shot in one swift motion, followed by the second. His gaze bore into her, waiting for her to join in.

She knew better and was well aware of the risks of accepting drinks from strange, depressing men in bars, but in that moment, she couldn't summon the energy to care. Offering the man a faint, uneasy smile, she knocked back both shots. Appearing somewhat satisfied, he returned a sad smile before turning his attention back to his beer.

“And I hope when you think of me years down the line you can't find one good thing to say and I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out, you'd stay the hell out of my way.”

The lyrics slammed into her like a freight train, shaking her to her very core. Unable to hold back, she crumbled under the weight of her emotions, tears streaming down her cheeks. Wonderful. What a fantastic first impression she was making. Hastily, she fled to the solitary bathroom in the bar. She refused to let this moment define her introduction to anyone in Oasis, not even some depressed weirdo at the bar.

Struggling to regain control, she attempted to calm her racing thoughts, grasping for stability. Counting five things she could see, smell, touch, and taste, she fought to ground herself. Just as she started to catch her breath amid her broken sobs, a knock reverberated through the door, shattering the peace she had managed to build.

"Hey, everything okay in there?" A low, gentle voice drifted through the door.

"I'm fine," she snapped back, her tone sharp with irritation.

"Doesn't sound fine," the voice persisted.

"I said I'm fine!" she practically yelled. "These songs are just fucking awful."

"Apologies for the tunes," the voice admitted. "I chose those songs. Looks like we're both drowning in the same melancholy. Let me grab you another drink? Misery loves company."

“No.” she said firmly, “please leave me alone.”

No response. Thank god he understood. She was in no place to make new friends, no matter how desperately she craved them. The longing to rely on someone other than herself was strong, but this wasn't the place, and she wouldn’t find that here and certainly not in some pathetic man singing sad songs at the bar on a Wednesday night.

She collected herself, giving her reflection a quick once-over in the mirror. It was hard to tell she'd just been a mess of tears, but why did the room feel like it was spinning? Exiting the bathroom, her vision blurred intermittently, not from tears this time, but from the bartender's generous pours. It was time to call it a night; crying and blacking out her first time out in Oasis was not the reputation she wanted. With unsteady steps, she made her way to the bar to settle her tab. Noticing the man from earlier was gone, she shrugged it off, too dazed to dwell on it. The bartender informed her that her drinks had been paid for. Strange, but she lacked the focus or energy to inquire further. All she wanted was to get home.

She stumbled her way home, unlocking the door to her beautiful new space. Unpacking had been a nightmare, but she couldn't deny her adoration for what she’d created here. Collapsing onto her bed, exhaustion didn't quite claim her yet. Opting for distraction, she reached for her phone, mindlessly scrolling through TikTok. What felt like a only 15 minutes turned into an hour of aimless consumption—reviews of eye cream, teasers for her favorite band's new album, snippets from her favorite TV shows, and insane nonsensical memes. The mindlessness was a welcome escape until a video of three childhood best friends, set to Alex Olsen's "someday i’ll get it" triggered tears for the third time that night. The crushing weight of loneliness consumed her, leaving her feeling utterly isolated. No friends, no family, no one to love, support, or uplift her. She was strong, but she was exhausted. Yearning for tenderness, for affection, for rest, she sobbed, drowning in her sadness and intoxication. She had to get these feeling out of her head, and Raz found the best way for her to do that was journaling. She reached for her laptop where she kept an anonymous personal blog, desperately needing to get this aching feeling out. In her depressed and inebriated state, she failed to realize she'd opened the wrong page…

PREVIOUS│NEXT

The songs mentioned throughout the update:

[ewingstan]

rules: shuffle your “on repeat” playlist from Spotify the music service of your choice and post the first 10 tracks.

tagged by @greatwyrmgold

1. No Children — The Mountain Goats (still upset this isn’t commonly available in karaoke venues. If I’m gonna sing badly, I my as well make people concerned about me while I do it.)

2. When Will You Die? — They Might Be Giants (AKA the Schadenfreude Internationale, AKA anticipatory crab rave)

3. Jenny Was A Friend of Mine — The Killers (Vegas represent!)

4. Picture, Picture — Harvey Danger (Wow these guys sound a lot like The Killers when you play their songs back to back. Or maybe that’s just this song.)

5. The Anglo-Saxons — The Mountain Goats (I feel like this could be retrofitted to be called the Picts while keeping the meter; you’d only need to change the chorus.)

6. Chelsea Dagger — The Fratellis (apparently this gets used in sports a lot? Would watch sports more if they included more burlesque anthems.)

7. Smile Like You Mean It — The Killers (a surprisingly good drunk-and-alone-on-a-weekday song. Don’t read into that observation.)

8. Falling Down The Stairs of Your Smile — The New Pornographers (think I heard of this from @artbyblastweave talking about it in another music tag game he tagged me into. Thanks! This rocks!)

9. Why Say Anything Nice? — Barenaked Ladies (y’know this would be a good Blake Thorburn animati— no! Stop turning everything into an AMV in your head! Remember how to enjoy songs for themselves again!)

10. Axolotl — Cosmo Sheldrake (thanks again @thesternest!)

Speaking of—tagging @thesternest, @ameliadallon, @bulbous-oar, @junebugtwin, @akpipis, @tranz-regent, if y’all want to participate!

[wickedlittlecritta]

still riding the high of last night’s apocaworld game, where my little asshole died a poetic death with his mortal arch nemesis like some kind of fucked up gothic romance

@abirdyofmanynames thanks for dying hand in unlovable hand with me <3

[turqu01s3]

Music Rec Challenge

I stole this bc it seemed fun

Challenging all modcord people to do this too if they want :] @hetboo @nowatchdog @lawdezone @bestatsavingface (ur the ones ik who r active) and also anyone else who wants to do it

Only rule is not to repeat songs:

1. Songs you like with a color in the title

Great White Planes - Nat Lekoff

2. Songs you like with a number in the title

Twenty Twelve - Matt Maeson

3. Songs that reminds you of summertime

Hotel California - Foreigner

4. Songs that reminds you of someone you would rather forget

Affection - Scruffpuppie

Stone - Born Without Bones

Cam’s Song - Secondhand Sound

Cliffy - Matt Maeson

5. Songs that needs to be played LOUD

Uncomfortable - Lanky Laneway

King Park - La Dispute

6. Songs that makes you want to dance

bed head fever - Matty Reynolds

7. Songs you must SCREAM

JUDAS - The Revenant Marigold

Destroyed By Hippie Powers - Car Seat Headrest

8. Songs to drive to

Dark Red - Steve Lucy

The Weight - Amigo the Devil

9. Songs that makes you happy

We’ll Meet Again - The Ink Spots

Creep - Richard Cheese

My Way - Frank Sinatra

10. Songs that makes you sad

The Box - Damien Rice

Sky Full Of Song - Florence + The Machine

11. Songs that you never get tired of

First Class - Rainbow Kitten Surprise

Jungle - Hotel Mira

12. Songs that make you feel a certain way

Your Sister Was Right - Wilbur Soot

Cocaine Jesus - Rainbow Kitten Surprise

Pulaski at Night - Andrew Bird

13. Songs that made your childhood

Payphone - Maroon 5

Drive By - Train

Everybody Talks - Neon Trees

Grenade - Bruno Mars

Rockstar - Nickelback

14. Songs you would love to be played at your wedding

No Children - The Mountain Goats (/j)

15. Songs that are covered by another artist

Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want - Deftones

16. Songs that are not in your native language

когда? - источник

Образы - Ручеёк

Вельзевул - Убей меня, Эйс!

17. Songs from the year you were born (I did a range.. for privacy)

I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace

Clint Eastwood - Gorillaz

Complicated - Avril Lavigne

Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes

Mr. Brightside - The Killers

18. Songs you would sing duet with on karaoke

Broadripple Is Burning - Margot & The Nuclear So And So’s

19. Songs that makes you think about life

Kitchen Sink - Isabelle Hyde

Downhill - Lincoln

Banks - Lincoln

20. Songs that have many meanings to you

this body means nothing to me - Shrimp

21. Favorite songs with a person's name in the title

Plastic Jesus - Tia Blake

Robin Hood - Deal Casino

Cleopatra (Acoustic Demo) - The Lumineers

Andra - The Ghost of Paul Revere

22. Songs that move you forward

The Absolute Best Feeling - Joshua Bond

23. Songs you think everybody should listen to

Feel Good - Matt Maeson

24. Songs by a band you wish were still together

Alligator Skin Boots - McCaffery (not really I know he’s evil I just don’t listen to many bands lol)

25. Songs by an artist no longer living

Revenge - XXXTENTACION

26. Songs that make you want to fall in love

Space and Time - S.G. Goodman

More - The Greeting Committee

27. Songs that break your heart

Hurt - Johnny Cash

28. Songs by an artist with a voice you love

Cringe - Matt Maeson

Living on the Sand - Colter Wall

It’s Called: Freefall - Rainbow Kitten Surprise

29. Songs people would be surprised you listen to

RIP Roach - XXXTENTACION

30. Songs that remind you of yourself (repeats ok for this one :])

First Class - Rainbow Kitten Surprise

Feel Good - Matt Maeson

[mmandymmilkovich]

#LauraMilkovich4Lyfe

Haha you thought I was done?? (part 1) (part 2)

She’s good at math, especially for someone who never graduated 7th grade.

She’s got ✨clinical depression ✨ but do you think she knows that? Nope.

Her dad used to do some work in Sears Tower and after 9/11 she spends weeks pretty sure he’d get blown up. She’s more upset about it than she’d ever admit. Her dad used to call her “my love”. (He’s still the worst though, don’t fall for it.)

She’s big on old sitcoms and movies, like the kind of stuff they play on TV in the middle of the day.

She has a lot of nicknames for people she loves, and people who annoy her, like Mickey does in the show.

Obviously she swears a lot.

“I’m 13 but I’ve seen everything” (source)

“It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” and “American Girl”

Questionable but effective Mean Girl parenting.

I don’t think her Ukrainian is very good, and it just gets worse and worse over years of lack of practice. She’s not too bad at cooking traditional Ukrainian cuisine though.

A C A B

She thinks there’s a lot of problems with Terry, but his looks aren’t one of them.

“I’m on his nerves, I’m pissing him off and ruining his day.” (source)

“You want your stupid eggs or not, dad?! Stop being such a prick, I’ll even make you sausage.” (x) & “Get out and help me push, tough guy.” (x)

Loathe to admit it, but there were positive qualities of their relationship... Food in her belly and a roof over her head. Protection. Mickey and Mandy and the other kids (family). Having a “place”, like being able to walk into any room Terry’s in and being able to put her arms around his shoulders and belonging somewhere (Mitski’s “Me and My Husband”).

“I am a house gutted by fire“ - Rainer Maria Rilke

I thought I’d be all about ice or the drowning motifs for her (The Mountain Goats’ “No Children”) but really songs about arson just connect to Laura so well.

“She Used to Be Mine” - Waitress 

Sometimes I imagine she haunts 1955 Zemansky Rd. In season 11 when the house is foreclosed on because the meth lab in the basement blew up? That was her 👻your fave could never. (Did she also possess that nun and murder Terry the day after she herself died 13 years prior? Yes, yes she did.)

It's a sad song / It's a sad tale / It's a tragedy / It's a sad song / But we sing it anyway / 'Cause here’s the thing / To know how it ends / And still begin to sing it again / As if it might turn out this time - Hadestown, “Road to Hell (Reprise)”

Like, she’s this tragic figure, almost mythical, pinned down by fate. But there’s also all these forks in the road and opportunity that at every step you have to hope things go differently. That’s why she’s so well suited to AU stories. Like in every universe Ian and Mickey find each other and fall in love. In every universe we as readers want to spare Laura, but we also want Mickey to live.

“Family’s Family” That motto Mickey repeats in different ways isn’t a Milkovich trait, it’s a Laura trait. You can’t tell me that Terry would have fostered that sort of devotion and loyalty in his kids (Cousin Joey, Sammy, Aleks, & Zofia are willing to shoot themselves rather than help Terry). That ride or die, get-Lip-into-uni, what-we-owe-to-each-other mentality is Laura, and it sprang up as a response of her not wanting to be like her own parents.

In an alternate universe, we’re all fans of the show “Dysfunction” 😆it’s darker than Shameless but still a dramedy.

Mickey and Mandy graduating high school is important to her.

Laura takes over Terry’s drug business. Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss. She gets out of it eventually though.

Once upon a time there was a picture of the Milkovich house with a cat on the front porch. Do you think I can find it now? No. But anyway, this can adopts Laura.

Terry’s birthday, Father’s Day, the day Terry died... these dates continue to haunt Laura (mostly because of her terrible in-laws, but also a desire not to have her children have terrible daddy issues).

A lot of Laura’s main story would be about women’s trauma, especially the unexplored “Shameless” trauma and abuse of its women characters. Ethel, Sandy, Mandy, Molly, the Russians, Karen, and how all of this connects to Laura as she desperately tries to hold things together and deal with her own trauma.

EP 3x03 would have been a bigger storyline as Laura beats on predators.

At the end of S4 she does see the Levchuks again.

She joins PFLAG and then is like... “what do you mean we don’t threaten or beat up anybody? What’s the point of this? If we’re going to get rid of conversion therapy we have to electrocute someone.”

She can be soulmates with (Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s) Charlie Peters as a treat.

She likes Lip way more than she likes Ian. More Lip and Mickey scenes. More Mickey and Gallagher scenes tbh.

Laura, Lip, and Brad should do the motorcycle thing together with the Russian prostitutes. 

Of course Lip would have a crush on Laura at some point because he’s dumb.

She’d accidentally enter that throuple with Kev and V and none of them would know how to break up with each other. 

She would not just lose track of Mandy(!!!!!!!!!), and Mandy certainly would not have left in S5 with Kenyatta, Jesus Christ.

More dumb Iggy and Colin foolishness.

When Laura talks about her kids with strangers they assume they’re in the single digit age bracket.

[stormysapphic]

1,4,9,41 and 44💕

1. 6 of the songs you listen to most? currently my top 6 would probably be down in the valley by the head and the heart, hieroglyphs and thus always to tyrants by the oh hellos, australia by the shins, no children by the mountain goats, and come over by matt watson! and overall, i listen to a lot of hozier, the lumineers, and the oh hellos songs on repeat! 4. what do you think about most? all sorts of interpersonal relationships stuff - especially my best friend, ofc. 9. ever had a poem or song written about you? yeah! a bunch of times, actually. the fact that i go to an arts school plays a part. :’) 41. what was the last book you read? the last one i finished was purge by sofi oksanen, and i’m currently reading a few other ones, including the scorpio races by maggie stiefvater! 44. what was the last film you saw? a new finnish film called nimby - it was pretty good and 2 of the main/central characters were a lesbian couple!

[captainamericasbeard]

A Long Road- Ch 3

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None

Summary: While recovering in Wakanda Bucky meets a deadly stranger who needs to learn how to heal.

Part 2 ll Part 4

I’m walking briskly down the same hallway I’ve been walking down for a month, led by the Dora Milaje assigned to me. I’m dressed in loose white linen pants, a white shirt, and barefoot like always. The path from my chryotube to the examination room is the most I’ve seen of what I can tell is an expansive property.  Every week I'm woken up from Shuri’s passive neuro reconditioning, led down this hallway with a left and two rights, brought to the same exam room where I broke the doctor’s arm, and sat down at the same steel table. The same doctor comes every week, (not the one I injured), gives the same speech about being here to listen, and we sit in silence. I have nothing to say. My brain is a scramble and I don’t trust any words that would come out of my mouth anyways. I’m a trained liar and my mind is not my own. It belonged to the Red Room and now its Shuri’s.

We stride down the hallway and my guard abruptly turns right instead of left. I stop immediately and instinctively assume a defense position. My hands curl into fists and I quickly examine my surroundings, deciding if I'm going to fight or fly. Fight. It's always fight.

“We are not going to the doctor today. There’s someone you need to meet,” the Dora says sharply. She’s not inviting you, she’s ordering you. And you’re good at following orders. She leads you down two more hallways and up an elevator. Down one more hallway and we stop at an ornate wooden door. She pushes the door open and goes in first, securing the room. I follow her inside and am immediately drawn to the floor to ceiling window opposite me. I don’t even notice the opulence of the room as I push past the Dora and walk up to the glass. Laid out before you for miles all around is a vast, technologically advanced city. Towering spires surround the building I am in and the buildings stretch out to apartment complexes and in the furthest distance my enhanced eyes can see small one family cottages with children running and playing among the goats and chickens. I take in the looming mountains that surround this ideal valley and realize just how far from anywhere I am. Escape is not an option.

A soft knock sounds from the door and I tense up, my shoulders stiff, my hands gripped at my side. The door opens to reveal a tall man with loose, dark hair framing his face. He’s dressed casually in boots, dark, tight jeans, and a sweater. It's cold outside I figure making a mental note of the season. My eyes travel over the man and land on a metal hand. It’s him. The one who restrains me. My eyes darken and a small growl rumbles in my chest as my hackles rise. His eyes lock with mine and he puts his hands up, palms out in a sign of surrender. My Dora subtly tightens the grip on her spear. My breathing gets heavier and my eyes dart around the room, searching out weapons and exits. I wonder how thick the glass behind me is.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for holding you down. I never wanted to hurt you, I just wanted to stop you from hurting others or yourself,” he says in a low voice from the doorway, hands still raised. It was true. He’d never hurt me. In fact he’s the only person who’d ever spoken words of comfort to me, outside of my psychiatrist. I don’t change my stance.

“I don’t like being touched,” I said, my voice strong and clear.

“I know. I’m sorry.” His steel blue eyes stayed locked on mine. I slowly calm my breathing and lower my defenses. I drop my shoulders and unclench my fists. I nod my head, agreeing to listen to what he has to say.

“My name is Bucky,” he puts his hand to his chest and then gestures toward the couch, “can we sit and talk?” I move to the couch and sit down, feeling suddenly insecure in this kind man’s presence. Bucky nods to the Dora, “Thank you Adala, we’ll be fine.” Adala. I’d  never bothered to learn her name. Her job was to kill me if I couldn’t be contained. I turn back to Bucky to find his eyes already on me.

“How are you feeling?” I don’t answer. An uncomfortable silence settles between us. I keep my posture straight and my eyes locked on his. He doesn’t flinch.

“You didn’t bring me here to ask how I’m feeling.” My tone is level and my expression is blank.

“No, I guess I didn’t,” he pauses for a beat, considering you. “I'm here to talk about your treatment.” I offer no reply, after a shaky breath Bucky continues. “Suri has wiped the trigger words from your mind. No one will ever be able to control you that way again.” I knew this so I nod my head for him to continue. “For the last 2 months Suri has been working on a process called passive neural reconditioning. She searches for the cleanest memories and brings those to the forefront, assuming they are your true memories.” “Why are you telling me what I already know?” I challenge.

“There’s something we haven’t tried,” Bucky says apprehensively. I raise an eyebrow. “It’s called the Ancestral Plain. It’s a spiritual journey the Wakandan priests can induce through something called the heart-shaped herb.” I snort derisively.

“You’ve got to be joking.” Bucky shakes his head. “What am I supposed to do? Meditate and repeat my mantra? Why are you feeding me this load of bullshit,” I spit out.

“it’s not bullshit,” he presses, “you take a tincture made from the herb and we bury you in sand. You enter a comatose state while your mind is transported to the Ancestral Plain. Which is really just the purest form of your mind and heart,” Bucky explains. My expression softens and I realize I'm leaning forward slightly.

“What does it do,” I whisper.

“It can show you who you are.” That’s all I want to know.

“How can I trust it?”

“Because it's you. No one else.” Bucky states as if it's that simple.

“I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust my own mind,” I state, leaning away from him shaking my head.

“You're going to have to trust something eventually.” Bucky states simply. As if trust is the simplest thing in the world.

“Did you do it?” I ask.

“Yes.” “What did you see?” I ignore the personal nature of the question and lean forward, pressing for an answer. I have to know if this is real. Bucky pauses for a minute, considering my question. He finally decides that the sacrifice of intimate details is the price he’s willing to pay for my agreement.

“I saw myself. Who I was beneath the monster they made me. I saw who I once was and who I could be again. I saw hope.” His words are simple but they rock me to my core. My heart races. He’s spilling my secret longing. Everything I’ve wished for since they woke me up.

“Okay." “Okay? Just like that?” Bucky questions.

“Yeah, just like that. I need-“ my voice falters, “I need hope.”

“Okay then,” Bucky rises to his feet, “Let’s get started.”

[mary-tudor]

“ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴏʀʏ ᴏғ ᴀsʟᴀᴜɢ”, from Anglo-Saxons classics.

"DURING prehistoric times in ancient Scandinavia, when the land was divided into a number of little principalities, over each of which a chief or king ruled, generally at war with his neighbour, the liege of the bordering state,there lived and ruled a famous family of chiefs called the house of Volsung. Of these Sigurd Fafnirsbane, or Snake-Killer, was the most renowned; he was espoused to the warlike but beautiful Amazon Brynhild, whom he had liberated from the charmed imprisonment of that aforenamed mythical huge snake, which had held her enthralled in a deep trance for a long time. The issue of this union was a little daughter, whom they called Aslog. [...]

Dearly loved at the court of Sigurd, there lived an exiled king called Heimer, who was the accepted scald or bard of this chief and hero; and when Sigurd and Brynhild met their untimely end, the old kingly bard took their little daughter Aslog, then only a few years of age, and hastened into other petty states, to seek refuge and save the only surviving child of her race from the general carnage which raged amongst her infuriated kinsfolk. Better to conceal his infantile charge, he had a large harp constructed, in which he was able to hide the child. And now began a period of strange adventures [...]

Sometimes, when far from the habitations of men, the old harper would allow his little darling to run by his side gathering flowers and berries from the wayside. He opened the foot of the harp and lifted out his little charge, Aslog, who had fallen asleep within, overpowered with grief at the recollection of her lost parents which the song had evoked in her loving and childish heart.

It was a cold evening, and the stars were out; so the old man bethought himself that he had better warm little Aslog in his embrace. Soon, locked in his arms, she looked up into his face and leaned her head against his cheek, when her silent tears trickled down into his long white beard, and lay like gems reflecting the silvery glimmer of the moon-beams which like a halo played round the group. 

"Hush, my little one, you have me still who loves you, and the good god Balder, Odin's most beloved son, the god of Light and Song. He will protect you when I am dead and gone. Do you know, child, those rustics and warriors who listened to my song about Sigurd and Brynhild (may Balder bless their union in Valhalla!) they, simple folk, thought the harp bewitched, because you muled and wailed, little one. Do not do so again, but cheer up ; we will soon arrive at a place of refuge and safety, where we will find friends that love us. If you weep in the harp to my playing, and bewitch the listeners, I shall have to call you my little witch, and you would not like that, King Sigurd's daughter! The old man had to sing out of tune to drown your sobs; give me now a kiss and say you love me as much as ever, though I won't let you cry. You cry indeed ! the daughter of the famous hero and Amazon! Oh no, we will have no mo-re tears now, only love and song.”

[...] This crime accomplished, they eagerly hurried to the harp, and opened the little door of the instrument; but picture their surprise when out stepped a little girl, fairhaired and blue-eyed, just awakened by their bustle, and looking enquiringly around for her aged guardian. When little Aslog saw the sinister-looking couple, she ran frightened to old Heimer, where he lay stretched on the floor; but when she could get no answer to her repeated call upon his name, even though she pulled him by his hands and beard, as she was wont to do, she at last realized the fact that her beloved protector was dead, and would speak no more to her. She burst into bitter sobs, clinging to her silent friend, and flung her little arms around his neck and nestled in his clothes and silvery hair. 

The inhuman old wretches considered for a short time whether they should not murder the little girl as well; but her despair was so touching, and her rare beauty so winning, that at last they resolved to spare her and adopt her as their own child. To silence inquisitive people who might call at their lonely hut, she was forthwith dressed in coarse grey baize, as was customary with the children of bondsmen, Aslog was compelled to remain with the old people, who called her Kraka, and she grew up to become a most beautiful maiden, slender, tall, and graceful, and with the inborn gait of a princess. All who saw her admired her wondrous beauty. Her native wit and wisdom were also most remarkable, though she spoke but seldom, and never with strangers, who therefore imagined she was deaf and dumb. Only with her grim wardens did she exchange a few words, when she was alone with them, and only then when their daily intercourse compelled her, for she loathed them' from her inmost soul, because they had murdered her beloved and venerated guardian, and detained her, the daughter of Sigurd and Brynhild, a slave to wretched bondsmen. She repeated to herself every day the song Heimer had sung to his harp's accompaniment about her heroic parents, and thus she kept in vivid recollection for many long years the story of their loves and untimely fate.

When Kraka had lived with the wicked old couple thus for more than twelve years she was now sixteen years old a Viking sailed into the creek one day with several galleys, and landed with his men near her home. It was no less a person than Ragnar Lodbrook, a hero famous all over the north for his deeds of daring.

When the hut was observed by the mariners, some of the men were sent thither to bake some bread, of which provision they had been short for the last few days.

When the men returned with the hard-baked bread, it was found to be burned and wholly spoiled; upon this the Viking became greatly exasperated, and gave orders to have the negligent fellows severely punished. But the men tried to excuse themselves, and said that in the hut they had beheld such a beautiful maiden that they had quite forgotten all about the bread in the oven, and they could not help it, for she had quite bewitched them.

The Viking became interested at this, and asked who the girl might be. They answered that she was the daughter of Ake and Grima, the bondsmen who lived in the hut, though they could scarcely believe it, for they were such an aged and repugnant-looking couple, and the old woman such a vicious old harridan; and yet they said she was their daughter Kraka, their only child, who tended the goats on the mountain slopes. 

But her beauty, they persisted, was fairly bewitching, and her bearing that of a queen. "Impossible!" the Viking answered, "I cannot believe it. [...]  You have all seen my lamented consort,the incomparable Thora, and any one who ever saw her ought not to speak of other women's loveliness."

Yet the men maintained that the girl's rare beauty would in every respect vie with that of their dead queen. Then the chief ordered that Kraka should immediately be brought before him, and promised that if he really found her so exceedingly lovely as the men had given out, he would forgive them their negligence.

Kraka was soon brought, and Ragnar Lodbrook was even more bewitched than his men by her incomparable beauty, and was quite spellbound by the prudent and ready answers she gave to all his questions. The Viking thought her a fair prize, and took her aboard his own galley, and told her she should never return to the old people at the hut. 

Her radiant beauty at first repelled every advance from the wild and passionate hero of many lands, for she was virtuous as she was wise and beautiful; and this pleased her captor much, and he could not hdp admiring that lofty spirit which dared even him, the hero of his time.

Ragnar already possessed two sons, Eric and Agnar, by his former consort, and they found in Kraka a loving stepmother; indeed the young queen, through her many virtues and rare wisdom, endeared herself not only to her newly-found family, but to all the people over whom Ragnar Lodbrook ruled. Many years of happy married life followed, during which she presented her royal husband with five sons, all of whom became more or less famous in the warfares of the times.

When King Ragnar, already advanced in years, was on a visit to King Eisten Bele, one of the Swedish petty kings, he saw this chief's daughter Ingeborg, whose beauty quite captivated the gallant champion. The Princess* went the round of the table at the banquet given in his honour, and filled the goblets of the royal guest Her beauty, and the wine, must have intoxicated him, for he determined upon separating himself from Kraka, whom he but knew as a bondsman's daughter, and thus unworthy to share his throne, and then marry Ingeborg, the daughter of a king, as more befitting his royal state. Eisten Bele readily consented to this union, to be contracted as soon as Ragnar had rid himself of Kraka. When the ice broke up Ragnar sailed away, promising to return during the summer to celebrate the nuptials with the fair Ingeborg.

Upon his return home he divulged nothing to Kraka of his design, but the news came to her through other channels at the court. Instead of upbraiding her spouse, she resorted to other means far wiser; she increased her loving attention to him, and was more charming than ever; and she told the king that at last she thought the right time had come to tell him who were her real parents, and that she was no vile bondsman's child. 

With unfeigned amazement he learnt that she was the daughter of Sigurd and Brynhild; he listened eagerly to the recital of her wondrous flight in the harp; effected by King Heimer, and to her tale of woe during her long captivity with Ake and Grima. His joy to possess a queen of noble descent and equal to himself was sincere; he thought he had never loved her so- well before, and dispelled all thoughts of parting with her. 

The image of Ingeborg vanished from his heart for ever, and no journey to Eisten Bele was taken to celebrate the contemplated union, which this warrior thought a great insult to him, as his daughter was a princess, and he the King oif Upsala. But Eisten Bele got no opportunity to avenge this breach of promise, for Queen Aslog, the name she now resumed, persuaded her two stepsons to hasten to Upsala to war with its king in his own domains. This they did, but Agnar fell in the battle, which grieved his noble and grateful stepmother as if he had been her own son.

When Ragnar Lodbrook, on one of his seafaring expeditions, fell into the hands of King Ella of Northumbria, and by his victor was thrown into a pit filled with serpents, and there met his tragic death, which event is recorded in the English Chronicles, Aslog sent all her own five sons to avenge his death. 

She survived her spouse many years, a disconsolate widow, honouring the memory of the noble Viking who had rescued her from ignoble thraldom and made her queen of his heart and realm, Aslog, the little child princess, who had lain in a harp, and sobbed in harmony with its tremulous strings to the piteous lay recording the fate of her hapless parents.”

[acidwaste]

hey so it seems i’ve forgot to do a l o t of tag memes, and i’m lucky i drafted a big bunch of them! lots of questions overlapped so i did my best to answer in different ways, sorry for the lateness! also @ the people that tagged me here, i wouldn't hesitate to kill for you

@natcaptor / @gayspaced

name: leon or lionel!

nicknames: literally the only nickname I’ve been referred to is “big gay” and like. word!

gender: im pretty sure im a guy, i have been kinda 🤔🤔🤔 abt my gender identity since around november-ish though

star sign: sagittarius!

height: 6’1! i’m told that I’m tall but my uncle is 6’7 so...

time: 3:36pm rn! ive been watching video essays and binging music all afternoon

birthday: december 9th!

favourite bands: animal collective, beach house, camp cope, car seat headrest, death grips, fleet foxes, florence + the machine, gang of youths, glass animals, gorillaz, hop along, iceage, idles, kero kero bonito, mgmt, miike snow, modest mouse, run the jewels, superorganism, the avalanches, the cat empire, the go! team, the mountain goats, the wombats, xiu xiu

favourite solo artists: alex lahey, anderson .paak, ariana grande, billie eilish, bjork, cashmere cat, charli xcx, courtney barnett, cupcakke, d.r.a.m, eric taxxon, frank ocean, gfoty, hatchie, janelle monae, jeff rosenstock, joanna newsom, jorja smith, jpegmafia, kacey musgraves, kali uchis, kendrick lamar, khalid, kimbra, lorde, mac demarco, madeon, mick jenkins, mitski, oneohtrix point never, perfume genius, ravyn lenae, rina sawayama, serpentwithfeet, sophie, st. vincent, sza, vince staples

song stuck in my head: caramelo duro | miguel // kali uchis! its a bop, miguel is one of the few singers that can convincingly make sex jams

last movie i watched: deadpool 2! it was even better than the first, which is a feat in itself ngl

when did i create my blog: december 2016??? i only started using it properly in february last year tho

last thing i googled: “im in my mums car broom broom.” dont @ me

do i have any other blogs: yeah, plenty actually!! i have blogs for aesthetic (@moltenstar), general inspo (@wverns), flight rising (@szarising, kinda inactive?), and overwatch (@blackhardts) tbh the vast majority of my ‘sideblogs’ are just saved urls H

do i get asks: when i say stupid shit like “rung has the ass of a dilf but the dick of a cockroach”

why i chose my url: that one panel where kobd have a vacation at the acid wastes because fuck its finally canon babey!

following: 1,767, which is kinda horrifying!!

followers: 890?? somehow??? thats almost One Whole Thousand and i don't even make content

average hours of sleep: around 6 or 7!! n e v e r more though

lucky number: 43 and 64!!

instruments: i'm too poor to afford music lessons or instruments jsbddsjknfs

what am i wearing: a grey shirt and nothing on my bottom half so my [redacted] is hanging tf out, i should put on some damn clothes

dream job:  oooo uhhh, i’m studying to get an education degree rn because i’d love to teach children (around grade 3-4s preferably because i'm too jittery to handle anyone younger and older kids probs won't listen to me as much as i lack plenty of assertiveness), but!! i’d honestly love to be a musician, one of those underground ones that get lots of critical acclaim

dream trip: one day i wanna gather up some friends and just go on a road trip! idm where we go to, as long as we just have fun and just! adventure!

favourite foods: rare steak, mashed potatoes, eggs, and energy shakes made with like. fruit / cheese / yoghurt / oats / chia seeds ! protein is a large part of my diet

nationality: new zealand, but living in australia

favourite song right now: best part | daniel caesar // h.e.r - gosh i need to re-listen to daniel’s album again, i don’t remember this beautiful song being there and that’s a crime

@damndesi / @novarebel / @luciform-philogynist

APPEARANCE - I am 5'7 or taller - I wear glasses - I have at least one tattoo (but I am getting a tā moko in December, I believe) - I have at least one piercing (planning to get a nose ring, like a bull!) - I have blonde hair - I have brown eyes - I have short hair - My abs are at least somewhat defined (b a r e l y) - I have or had braces

PERSONALITY - I love meeting new people - People tell me I am funny - Helping others with their problems is a big priority of mine - I enjoy physical challenges - I enjoy mental challenges - I am playfully rude to people I know - I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it - There is something I would change about my personality

ABILITY - I can sing well - I can play an instrument - I can do over 30 pushups without stopping (barely) - I am a fast runner - I can draw well - I have a good memory - I am good at doing math in my head - I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute - I have beaten at least 2 people arm wrestling - I can make at least 3 recipes from scratch - I know how to throw a proper punch

HOBBIES - I enjoy sports - I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else - I’m in an orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else - I have learned a new song in the past week - I exercise at least once a week - I have gone for runs at least once a week in warmer months - I have drawn something in the past month - I enjoy writing - Fandoms are my #1 priority - I do some form of Martial arts

EXPERIENCES - I have had my first kiss - I have had alcohol (tastes like shit) - I have scored a winning point in a sport - I have watched an entire TV series in one sitting - I have been at an overnight event - I have been in a taxi - I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year - I have beaten a video game in one day - I have visited another country - I have been to one of my favorite bands concerts

MY LIFE - I have one person that I consider to be my Best Friend - I live relatively close to my school/work - My parents are still together - I have at least one sibling - I live in the United States - There is snow where I live right now - I have hung out with a friend in the past month - I have a smart phone - I own at least 15 CDs - I share my room with someone

RELATIONSHIPS - I am in a Relationship - I have a crush on a celebrity - I have a crush on someone I know - I’ve been in at least 3 relationships - I have never been in a Relationship - I have admitted my feelings to a crush - I get crushes easily - I have had a crush for over a year - I have been in a relationship for over a year - I have had feelings for a friend

RANDOM - I have break-danced - I know a person named Jamie - I have had a teacher that has a name that is hard to pronounce - I have dyed my hair - I’m listening to a song on repeat right now - I have punched someone in the past week - I know someone who has gone to jail - I have broken a bone (do fractures count?) - I have eaten a waffle today - I know what I want to do in life - I speak at least two languages (not fluently) - I have made a new friend in the past year

@smstransformers

age: 16

birthplace: auckland, nz

current time: 4:19 pm rn!!!

drink you last had: i just skulled half a liter of water whoops

favourite song: jesus etc. | wilco if we're talking abt an all-time favourite

grossest memory: accidentally swallowing a bee when i was seven years old (somehow nothing bad happened?)

horror, yes or no: not unless it’s an incredibly tame horror t b h, my threshold for scariness is very low

in love: i believe so!

jealous of people: lots of times, over really dumb things

love by first sight or should I walk by again: i believe that infatuation can exist at first sight but true love not so much. wish that could happen tho :C

middle name: shane!

siblings: my sister is eight years old, and my brother is seven!

one wish: EZ, make my anxiety disappear, i’d have a much more productive life

song i last sang: jupiter | haiku hands

time i woke up: 7:13, woke up immediately because i usually like to wake at 6:30

underwear colour: blue + purble

vacation destination: auckland / kingston / sydney!

worst habit: not remembering to make my goddamn bed, it looks like garbage

favourite food: mashed potatoes….

zodiac sign: sagittarius !!!

@alyonian

relationship status:

at the moment i’m single! and while being in a relationship sounds brilliant, the last two relationships i was involved in? didn’t work out to say the least, lucky i’m still young

favourite colour:

it’s been emerald green for the longest time but orange seems to be dethroning it at a steady pace

lipstick or chapstick:

i haven’t used chapstick since i was six but i probably should use it again, water is my substitute rn fdghdgh - and i haven’t ever used lipstick in any capacity? so i’d have to go with the former

last song i listened to:

the space traveller’s lullaby | kamasi washington - i’m trying to get through his second album rn (i left off on the second disk yesterday) and while everything he makes is undeniably amazing, it’s? a three hour album? i don’t have the attention span for his spiritual jazz, as great as it is

last movie:

monsters inc is playing on the television right now, i’ll go with that! the animation aged kinda badly but it’s still such a fun movie! sidenote: james p. sullivan? a childhood crush, so this gives me memories

top 3 tv shows/podcasts/comics:

i rarely, if ever, venture into these forms of media but! if i had to answer, i’d say;

unbreakable kimmy schmidt / parks & recreation / luke cage

taz / mbmbam (i havent like. watched a full episode of either but they seem cool,)

tf idw / …………. yeah that’s it, i’ve never read anything else. probably should!

additional favs:

my friends, writing (in theory), listening to video essays, learning music theory + instruments and understanding audio production software

top 3 bands / artists:

HHH okay if i had to limit my choices to just three artists, uh. lorde, the mountain goats, and sophie. i couldnt even fit janelle in i hate th is

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

@alyonian

color(s): light colors are always nice and pleasant, though anything peachy and sandy are the best! orange (specially pastel orange) is like. the best thing

last band t-shirt i bought: usually merchandising is very expensive and i dont have the money to accommodate that, but like. i do recall having a wiggles shirt when i was five. i wore it all the time, shjdjgsksd im sure that counts

last band i saw live: i almost went to splendor in the grass last year with family, which wasn't only cool since i’ve never been out of the state since i immigrated - the festival was in queensland, which is around a two hour flight from victoria - but the lineup was pretty fuckin lit too! the xx, haim, peking duk, tash sultana, future islands, vallis alps, a.b original,, i was p excited! unfortunately my uncle fell ill and so they had to give the tickets to extended family :( otherwise, i haven't been to a single concert in my life

last song i listened to: street fighter mas | kamasi washington - up to this song on the album and i really fuckin dig this! also the video is hypnotizing

last movie i watched: monsters inc is about to finish and up next is monsters university! which like…. honestly, this is an extremely unpopular opinion but, i like it just as much as the original? my opinion might be skewed because i’m a monster [hugger], but i like everything abt the movie! except for the finale of the scare games and the last five minutes of the movie, both were just. dreadful.

last three tv shows i watched: if aggretsuko counts that’s the last series i watched of my own volition, which is a miracle in itself considering that’s legit only the second anime i’ve watched to completion (the first being shirokuma cafe, which i probably need to re-watch). otherwise, the last two shows i had beared witness to were thirteen reasons why and queer eye bc my cousin put them on! that first show i could completely do without but queer eye is iconique

last 3 characters i identified with: grimlock (legit. all of them), urdnot grunt (mass effect) and vector the crocodile (sth), i’m not sure what this says about me other than Big

book(s) i’m currently reading: i’m reading ‘maus’ by art spiegelman at the moment, for the third time i believe? i believe my classmates are supposed to be writing an essay on this next term and shit, this novel is heartbreaking, i haven't been this emotional when reading a book than… ever, really. it’s a recommendation of the highest caliber

@victorion

name: leon / lionel, i picked up the second name because i was in a server with an admin that was also a Leon™

nickname: besides ‘Big Gay’ i also have the nickname ‘lemon lion’ which is! nice!!

zodiac sign: archer man

height: Tall™

language(s) spoken: english / some maori + italian

fav fruit: watermelons (only when in season)

fav scent: the smell of a freezer tbh? it just smells Nice i don’t know how to properly explain it

fav season: spring! the breezes are welcoming without being overbearingly freezing

fav color: ornge,,,,

fav animal: SHARKS + CROCS + FERRETS

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: tea! with some milk tho

average hrs of sleep: too little

fav fictional character: One character?????? uhhhhhhh……. like. biggest cc right now is either idw skids or oz from monster prom

no. of blankets you sleep with: depending on my mood but i’d say the average is like, 3??

fav songs: i quickly whipped up some songs i listen to

fav artists: i came to the realization that i like acts that are considered ‘bad’ like maroon 5/drake/lil yachty etc in specific doses… i wouldn't call them good yet, but! i have no beef and thats good

fav books: remember ‘where the wild things are’??? that shit was like. literal childhood, man.. :happytears: i really need to look for a copy again

@thonany-klieme

name: leon / lionel, interchangeable really

gender: male, im probs an nb guy

star sign: sagittarius!

height: 6’1

sexuality: gay??? im not sure, im mostly attracted to other guys but i have had very brief crushes on girls + nb people? sexuality’s confusing so im gonna just latch to the gaybel (gay label) for now

lock screen image: its the album cover of 1992 deluxe by princess nokia, tho it was “T Hanos” a few days ago since i change it often - my home screen is venom but his torso says ‘fuck machine’

ever had a crush on a teacher: no??

where do you see yourself in ten years: ideally i’m teaching kids math n english, realistically i’m probably going down with the political climate

if you could go anywhere, where would you go: new zealand!! or the netherlands

what was your favorite halloween costume: halloween is not big at all where i live, the only time i tried trick or treating was when i was like 7?? i threw a bedsheet on myself and pretended to be a ghost, though since there were no eyeholes + the sheet was blue, it looked more like i was just a moving lump

last kiss: never had one

have you ever been to las vegas: nah and i dont plan to?? how do you handle regular days of 40C wtf

favorite pair of shoes: i have this pair of jandals that ive worn for a fair bit longer than my other pair of shoes, tho i only wear them in summer + very warm nights

favorite book: ngl its. ‘the very hungry caterpillar’ by eric carle. i just, love it alot and i cant explain w h y

[gregolry]

1 to 69 and also 70

thank u I made a playlist instead of working on my finals

1. A Song you’re ashamed of liking

None, all music is good and great2. Favourite lyrics

Constant Surprises (Little Dragon)3. Favourite band/artist

Probably Paramore or Janelle Monae based off of time listened/lyrics known etc.4. Top 5 Favourite songs at this moment

These aren’t really my favorite songs at all but they’re the ones I’ve been listening to this week.

Mystery of Love (Sufjan Stevens), Don’t Act Like A Stranger (Cathedrals), If It’s a Light (Mavis Staples), Dim All The Lights (Donna Summer), I Belong To You (Brandi Carlile)5. Latest song that made you smile

Psychic City – Classixx Remix(YACHT)6. An overrated band

Don’t @ me but Fall Out Boy7. An overrated song

Really most of the songs from the above band8. Latest song that made you cry

Send in the Clowns (Glynis Johns)9. Artist/band that saved your life

None but also let’s say Carole King, she got me through a time10. If you could see any band/artist live, who would it be

Paramore11. What song/album/band/artist always brings back memories for you

Katy Perry’s album One Of The Boys always puts me exactly where I was every time I ever listened to it.12. saddest song you know

Silver Springs (Fleetwood Mac)13. Favourite song to sing in the shower

Really anything by Fleetwood Mac but probably Dreams14. If you played an instrument in grade school, what was it

Piano~15. What song would you like to have your first dance to at your wedding

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? (Carole King)16. 5 Songs to have sex to

None but also it depends on the mood but probably something by Arctic Monkeys (Dangerous Animals comes to mind)17. One band you’d have get back together/bring back from the dead

This doesn’t really count I guess but PWR BTTM with different members who weren’t garbage? Like take that concept and that exact sound and give it to people who weren’t pieces of shit.18. You’re forced to listen to only one album for the rest of your life, what album is it

Carole King’s Tapestry or Paramore’s After Laughter19. A song that gets you through shit

Cry, Cry, Cry (Judith Hill)20. A song to shut everything out

Any song really 21. A song that’s a joke between you and your friends

Anything by Creed

22. A song to jam out to at 4am

Janglin (Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros)23. A song that punches you in the gut every single time

You Were Meant For Me (Jewel)24. A song that calms you down

Thunder Love (Little Dragon)25. A song that makes you feel alive

Q.U.E.E.N. (Janelle Monae)26. If you could get any lyrics tattooed, which would you choose

Tbh Something from the above song27. What band/artist would you get your children addicted to at an early age

You know good and well my children will be listening to Janelle Monae all day28. Can you play any instruments, if so, which

Piano and anything piano adjacent that follows the same rules29. If you could be a member of any band for one show, who would it be

That’s too much pressure30. CDs or Vinyls

Digital…31. 25 songs to play at your funeral

Just play What’s New Pussycat on repeat32. What are some song titles that you love

It Hurts Until It Doesn’t (Mothers) and their album title “When You Walk A Long Distance You Are Tired”33. If your life ended today, what song would you choose to represent it

See Above34. Can you give me a 10 song playlist on ____

No35. A heart wrenching song

Un-Break My Heart (Toni Braxton)36. A band/artist you’re proud of

Paramore because why not they’re doing a good job37. A song that has a lot of meaning to you

As You Are (Kimbra)38. A song that reminds you of school

Right As Rain (Adele) (not for any specific reason other than it played a lot on my way to class from high school to now)39. A song not sung in your native language

Palabra clasica (Florencia Nunez)40. An instrumental song

Whoacean (Yesway)41. A classical song

Concerto for Piano and Orchestra No. 5 (Beethoven)42. A song with no percussion

Want My Love (Cathedrals)43. Something you’ve heard performed live

Mardy Bum (Arctic Monkeys)44. Something you’d give ANYTHING to hear performed live

I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Whitney Houston) (assuming this would involve dark magic rituals of some sort)45. A song from a band/artist that’s from your town/city/state/province

Keep Lying (Donna Missal)46. A song made suddenly precious because of a special someone

*shrug emoji* (that’s a lie but I can’t say)47. A song made suddenly painful because of someone special

*shrug emoji* (probably the same answer as above though)48. A song that demands lip syncing and a makeshift microphone

Real Love (Mary J. Blige)49. A song from a band/artist you met/know

*shrug emoji*50. A song that you would rock at karaoke

I’m The Only One (Melissa Etheridge)51. A song you can’t help but dance to

One Of The Boys (Katy Perry)52. A song that makes you want to dance on a table

Do My Thing (Estelle feat. Janelle Monae)53. Your 10 song striper playlist

Just What’s New Pussycat 10 times54. Favourite Disney song

Snuff Out the Light (Eartha Kitt) (It was never in the movie and that’s a damn shame)55. A song that starts with the first letter of your name

Change Of Coast (Neon Indian)56. A song from an artist still alive

400 Lux (Lorde)57. A song from an artist who’s dead

I’ll Be Seeing You (Billie Holiday)58. A song you love by an artist/band you hate

*shrug emoji* I guess anything by PWR BTTM because the band is garbo but their music was good59. A song you love with a colour in the title

Rose-Colored Boy (Paramore)60. A song you love with a number in the title

One For The Road (Arctic Monkeys)61. A song that reminds you of someone you would rather forget about

Raja Vocative (The Mountain Goats)62. A song that needs to be played LOUD

Square Biz (Teena Marie)63. A song that makes you think about life

Oh My God (Ida Maria)64. 15 Songs that get suck in your head easily

What’s New Pussycat 15 times65. A song that you think everyone should listen to

That’s Alright (Laura Mvula)66. A song that makes you want to fall in love

As the World Falls Down (Girl In A Coma)67. A song that makes you think about ‘him/her’

They All Want You (Lissie) (tbh.. mood)68. A song that you remember from your childhood

Say You’ll Be There (Spice Girls)69. A song that reminds you of you

It Hurts Until It Doesn’t (Mothers)70. Okay what’s the real answer to number 1

Still true

[magnoliasinbloom]

Someone to Stay - AU

Previous chapters

Chapter 8

Her feet creaked on the landing, the wood protesting. She could hear something behind the door, and she was afraid to open it, but she followed an unknown pull that drew her hand to turn the knob.

The sounds were unmistakable. Their bodies writhed and a pillow tumbled to the floor. Warm, sugary-scented candlelight flickered over their faces. She’d seen enough—she turned and ran out of the room.

Her legs didn’t seem to want to obey her. Rushing down the stairs her feet caught on the carpeting and she tripped, falling, falling, falling…

Claire jerked awake, breathing hard. Beside her, Jamie stirred and flung his arm over her. She placed her hand over her heart, willing it to stop hammering.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?” he asked sleepily.

“Yes. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Bad dream.”

“Weel, no wonder, I took all the blankets. Ye’re cold as ice—that’ll give ye the nightmare. Come here.” Jamie bundled her under the quilt; his own body radiated heat and she curled up against him, her head on his shoulder. Her heart was slowing down, and she closed her eyes, hoping to reclaim sleep.

Jamie’s hand stroked her arm lazily, while pressing small kisses into her hair. Claire was lulled, warm, the fear of her dream fading fast. After a few minutes, Jamie spoke.

“I’ll need to get up soon. I promised Jenny I’d help with the chores to free her up to get some Christmas things ready.”

“What time is it?” Claire mumbled. 

“Um… about 5, I think.”

“Oh God. It’s still dark out. It’s too early. You can’t go out there now. Stay. Here. With me.” She clung to him tighter, unwilling to let him out of the bed.

“A promise is a promise, Sassenach.” He extricated himself gently, pausing to run his fingers through her curls. “I like it. Looks like the bramble bush outside.”

Claire swatted him feebly, too tired to really try. She burrowed deeper into the bed, and Jamie kissed her nose. He dressed in the light of the leftover embers while she watched, and wanted.

“I’ll bring ye coffee. You don’t have to come wi’ me, Claire. I ken it’s yer vacation and up early the rest of the time. I’ll go milk the goats and pitch hay for the coos, they’ll be sufferin’ fer it.”

“Coos?”

“Highland coos. Beautiful creatures.”

She peered over the quilt. “I’ve never seen one.”

“Dress warmly then. Ye’re about to meet the herd.” He turned to leave, but stopped. “Oh, and Sassenach?”

“Yes?”

“Merry Christmas.”

_______________________________________________________________________

The mountain air was icy but invigorating. Claire touched her cheeks, the wool mittens warm on her reddened skin. She pulled her scarf up higher around her face.

She and Jamie leaned against the fence, watching Jenny’s merino sheep baa and butt each other. It was only noon, but her body was exhausted; not only from their efforts last night, but from fetching and hauling and working alongside Jamie.

They stood quietly side by side, watching the animals’ antics. Their breath mingled in cloudy puffs, and Claire couldn’t remember when she had last been this happy.

He was in her like a livewire, after only weeks of knowing each other. It was too much, too soon, too fast. Too right. And her heart… the kiss in the alley had given it to Jamie irrevocably.

Claire took his hand in hers and clasped it tight. He smiled down at her, and sang, “Oh, the weather outside is frightful…”

She laughed. “It’s not so bad now.”

“There’s snow coming soon. We’re expecting the band fer Hogmanay. When are ye due back to work, mo nighean donn?”

“January third. And your recording sessions?”

“Few days after that. We can have some time in London.” He kissed her briefly and they started back to the house.

The ancient stones stood grey and silent as they approached. Claire could glimpse Jenny in the kitchen, preparing lunch for the family. At the door, Jamie stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Claire, I have something for you,” he said. With a shy smile, he pulled a gold chain from his coat pocket. Dangling from it, was a gold ring with a ruby set in it. Jamie held it in front of Claire, the weight of the ring causing it to twirl. “It belonged to my da, and his da before him, on and on back. I usually wear it, but it can be a bit troublesome when playing guitar so… I’d left it here in Jenny’s care.”

Claire swallowed thickly, understanding the implications of his gift. This had belonged to his father; it was a tangible memory of family and belonging. By giving her this ring, Jamie made it clear he thought of her as part of him, intrinsic and bone-deep. She reached out to touch the gleaming stone, and smiled in acceptance.

Jamie undid the tiny clasp, the gold links of the chain delicate as filigree. He fastened it behind her neck, fingers lingering on her collarbones. Claire touched the ring, nestled against her sternum.

“Thank you,” she said softly, and he leaned in for a kiss. Then she came to a realization.

“Oh my God, I feel so bad, I didn’t get you anything! What with the shifts and all—”

“It doesna matter. I brought presents for the children, from both of us.” Jamie opened the door and removed his dirty boots before Jenny could protest. Claire imitated him, carefully removing her coat and layers. She was very much aware of the presence of the ring.

“Besides.” He turned and wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her close enough for whispering.

“You gave me you.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Jamie’s acoustic guitar playing Christmas carols and traditional Scottish songs reverberated with the myriad of voices singing along and laughing riotously. Everyone was absolutely soused, the drams flowing and never-ending.

The rest of The Clan had arrived, Rupert and Willy and Murtagh, to stay and celebrate Hogmanay and welcome the New Year. Rupert had cornered Claire and would not stop talking about Geillis. Claire lent a sympathetic ear and on the whole, rather liked the match between them; from the way Rupert talked about her friend, she suspected they were more serious than she had originally thought—and was glad for them. Willy was there, shy as ever, but joining in the loud choruses and tossing back drink after drink.

Murtagh joined Claire on the sofa by the fire, offering her a tumbler of Macallan. They toasted Christmas and Jamie and the Frasers in general. If he noticed Brian Fraser’s ring on Claire, he said nothing, but regaled her with stories of Jamie as a child and teenager. Every word Murtagh spoke revealed the tenderness involved in practically raising a child not his own. Claire wondered why Murtagh was single—deceiving surliness notwithstanding—when he clearly had so much love to give.

Jenny, however, was not blind. Her eyes had zeroed in on the ring around Claire’s neck the moment they stepped inside the house into her presence. Her eyes had widened but she said nothing outright. As the evening progressed and everyone’s inhibitions lowered significantly, now she approached Claire and sat next to her.

“That was my da’s,” Jenny said quietly, sipping from her own glass.

“Yes, Jamie told me.” Claire felt uncomfortable for a moment – Brian had also been Jenny’s da. Perhaps— “Do you not approve? Would you like me to give it back? Maybe you should have it for your own sons—”

Jenny waved her off. “I have my mam’s pearls and other things, for my daughters as well. This is Jamie’s to give as he will.” She reached out and touched a finger gently to the ruby, warmth on her face and in her voice. “And let me tell you—he could not have chosen someone worthier.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Claire ground her hips against Jamie’s, one hand holding her steady above him. Firelight cast them into molten gold as each found their completion in the other’s body.

Jamie groaned as Claire rocked to find more friction, more heat, more of him. He kneaded her breasts, traced a finger down to her navel, and settled on the pulsing point of their union. Claire clenched around him, dissolving into a heap of spent limbs and curly hair. Their foreheads touched as Jamie took his pleasure, gasping into her ear.

“Tha gaol agam ort. An-còmhnaidh.” His hands gently traced patterns on her back as she lay spent on top of him, too lazy and sated to shift next to him. Her skin pebbled in goose bumps as she shivered in delight.

“You’ll have to teach me the Gaidhlig,” she said, smiling. She propped her hands under her chin, resting on his chest. “I think I can only translate about 5 words. Not fair.”

“I can teach ye, Sassenach.” Jamie pushed her hair behind her ears, cupping her cheeks in his hands. “Repeat after me. Tha gaol agam ort.”

“Tha gaol agam ort.” Claire did her best to imitate his accent.

“An-còmhnaidh.” Jamie caressed her face gently, tenderly.

“But what does it mean?” she insisted, pressing a kiss into the palm of his hand.

Jamie took a deep breath. “It means… I love ye. Always.”

Her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she considered bolting. Rising from the bed, giving up the warmth and comfort of his body. Dressing fast in the demi-dark, leaving him behind. And her heart ached at the thought. So she allowed the brief wave of panic to wash over her, and let it go.

Jamie’s eyes were still on her, steadfast and unwavering. Claire met them bravely, whiskey and blue fire, and kissed his honey mouth.

“Tha gaol agam ort. Always.”

[geekade]

The ABCs of the Stanley Cup Finals, 2017 Style

The ABCs of the Stanley Cup Finals, 2017 Style

Hi there, fellow Geekade enthusiasts. I know you’ve gotten used to seeing me share my opinions about the latest in film and television, but this month, with apologies to my good friend and fellow Geekade writer Dave Diorio, I’m taking a break to write about the greatest sports events on earth. No, not March Madness, the NBA Finals, The Super Bowl, The Masters, The Triple Crown, The World Cup, The Olympics or even the World Series. Those are all worthy events, but they cannot match the absolute excitement and nail biting grind that takes place on a frozen stretch of ice in April and May every year. Without a doubt, the greatest sport tournament is the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

This year has been no exception. While the NBA playoffs have literally felt like a two-month slog in the muck that lead to a championship series that every single basketball fan on Earth KNEW would happen, this year’s Stanley Cup playoffs have been absolutely thrilling. The number of games that were either won in overtime or by one goal has been astounding. And for our dessert in the Stanley Cup Finals? We have a potential repeat champion, the dynasty-in-the-making Pittsburgh Penguins facing off against what has to be the feel good story in all of hockey, the Nashville Predators and their city’s explosion as a honkey-tonk, hockey-loving town.

So, dear reader, to help you fully embrace the excitement and immerse yourself in the Cup-Craziness to unfold, here are the ABCs of the 2017 Stanley Cup Playoffs.

A is for… Advantage, as in a man advantage. Hockey is the only sport that routinely has one of the players sit in a penalty box if they commit a penalty on the ice. (Alright, settle down soccer fans. Yes, your sport can lose a man too, but it’s not a routine function of the game. It only happens when a guy gets tossed. And besides, I included the World Cup up above. Take a seat and sing your team’s drinking song.) Watch this final series for man advantages. At the time of this writing, we’ve already had a controversial 5 on 3, which turned the tide of Game 1.

B is for… Beards, as in the playoff beard. Hockey players are notoriously tough athletes. It is not uncommon for a player to get cut or lose teeth by a stray stick in a collision, get stitched up in the locker room, and then come back out to get back into the game. As a point of reference, in my beloved Philadelphia, we have two star basketball players who sat out for a year (or two) with injuries that should have healed in far less time. For lack of a better term, hockey players are lunatics. So is it any wonder that there’s a tradition of growing beards for the playoffs? As if we need another reminder that these guys are burly he-men? By the time the Stanly Cup is awarded, it’s like looking at a team full of the Brawny Towel guys.

C is for… Crosby, as in Sid the Kid, a.k.a. Sidney Crosby. Point of disclosure. I am a Philadelphia fan. (Ok, you can stop laughing now. I mean it.) And it is a tradition that Philadelphia fans absolutely abhor the players on the opposing teams who have talent. And who whine. Players like Larry Bird. Michael Irvin. Kobe Bryant. Bryce Harper. And Sid Crosby. To keep my Philly cred, I have to say that Sid is a crybaby. Truth be told? He’s also one of the best, if not THE best player in the world. He is a force on the ice, and the bigger the game, the more likely it is that he will be a huge part of it. The Penguins are not THE PENGUINS without him. Count on Crosby scoring a huge goal in an important game in this series.

D is for… Day with the Cup. In what is one of the greatest traditions in all of sports, every player on the Stanley Cup winning team is given a chance to take the Cup for 24 hours and do whatever they please with it (short of melting it down) under the watchful eye of a chaperone with the greatest job ever (more on him later). There are amazing stories of players who have take the cup to their hometown where they grew up, players who have their children baptized in the cup, players who take the cup fishing, sailing, swimming, skydiving and, in one famous case (by a player who’s name rhymes with Lark Lessier) to a strip club where the dancer on stage worked the cup into her routine.

E is for… Emrick, as in Mike “Doc” Emrick, the primary NHL play by play man. For the uninitiated, listening to Doc Emrick call a playoff game is like listening to Verne Lundquist call an SEC overtime game between Alabama and Auburn or Gus Johnson call Duke versus North Carolina. You know how fans from around the country universally seem to dislike Joe Buck when he calls the NFL or the World Series? Yeah, that doesn’t happen with Doc Emrick. Coming back to hockey after a bout with cancer, Doc is now a hero to so many and is famous for his list of verbs to use to explain the different ways a puck can be moved up and down the ice.

F is for… Fish, as in Catfish. Hockey is a sport with some strange traditions. When a player scores three goals in a game, it’s called a hat trick. Why? In 1940, a haberdasher in Toronto offered free hats to players who scored three goals in a game. And so a legend was born. Today, when a player scores three in a game, fans litter the ice with hats. In Detroit, it’s been a long-standing tradition for the fans to throw an octopi on the ice in the playoffs. In 1996, the Florida Panthers got to the Stanley Cup Finals where at least once per game, fans would litter the ice with rubber toy rats when the Panthers scored. This year, we can add a whole new take on the “throwing stuff on the ice” thing. Nashville fans are now throwing catfish on the ice. Why is this perfect? For one, it absolutely trolls the Detroit tradition – Detroit has long been a tormentor of Predator fans. Second, is there any more perfect aquatic creature than a catfish to represent a team in the heart of the south? Third and last, a fan from Nashville got a ticket to see Game One in Pittsburgh, drove the 560 or so miles to Pittsburgh, vacuum-packed a dead catfish doused in Old Spice so it wouldn’t smell, taped it to his leg under his pants, took it out of his pants and threw it out onto the ice during the game, much to the dismay of the Penguin faithful. Love this game.

G is for… Goalie. Quarterback. Closer. Goalie. The three most pressure packed positions in all of sports. Stanley Cups have been won by teams with inferior talent simply because they had a goalie playing at the top of his game, or to use a hockey euphemism, “standing on his head.” In May of 1974, my Philadelphia Flyers beat the Boston Bruins in six games in what was considered to be one of the greatest upsets in all of hockey history. Why? Because we had the best goalie in the world at that moment – a lovable French Canadian named Bernie Parent. To this day, 43 years later, I doubt highly that Bernie Parent has ever had to buy a drink in the City of Brotherly Love. The goalie makes or breaks your team. And the Stanley Cup finals are a pressure cooker for goalies. Grab your popcorn!

H is for… Hockeytown, a name sports writers gave Detroit at the height of their greatness in the 1950s. When Detroit returned to hockey prominence and won the Stanley Cup in 1997 (against my Flyers…) the name was reborn as the team won a series of cups after that. Why is that significant to these finals? I would argue that both of these teams could contend for the title of Hockeytown right now. Pittsburgh has a chance to be the first team to repeat as Stanley Cup champions since the Red Wings did it 1997 and 1998. They are, for all practical intentions, a dynasty. And in a city where the Steelers are like a religion, the Penguins have become the biggest story in the city of three rivers. And if Nashville wins? Well, that city is off the hook for this team. More on that later.

I is for… Icing. When a team dumps the puck all the way down the ice to escape intense pressure, icing is called. It’s significant because the team that dumps the puck has to now survive a face-off in their own zone and they’re not allowed to send in any new players to replace the tired skaters on the ice. In the old days, players would race down the ice to decide whether icing would be called; if the team that dumped the puck touched it first, the icing would be waived off. That rule was changed because…well…hockey players would beat the hell out of each other to race to the puck. Maybe they needed to save it for another part of the game. But they’re hockey players. You know…lunatics.

J is for… Jinx. Professional athletes are notorious for being superstitious. An interesting superstition in hockey is that players who have not won the cup can’t EVER touch the cup. Even when NHL players are in the presence of the Cup, they dare not touch it. When the Staal brothers (Marc, Jordan and Jared) were celebrating with their brother Eric who had just won the Cup in 2006 with the Hurricanes, none of them would lay a finger on the Cup - even though it was right in front of them. If you play in the NHL, you just don’t touch the Cup until it’s yours. Another famous jinx followed the New York Rangers. In 1940, when they won the Stanley Cup, one of the players on the team…relieved himself, so to speak…in the cup. The Rangers would not win another Stanley Cup until 1994. Baseball had the curse of the Great Bambino and the Billy Goat. Hockey has the piss cup. (Bah dum bum.)

K is for… the Keeper of the Cup. When players get their Day with the Cup, one man goes from town to town and place to place with the cup. His name is Phillip Pritchard, and he stays with the cup at all times. So, when players travel to the tops of mountains to have their picture taken with the cup, he goes along. When players take the cup to their hometowns or high schools or to pediatric cancer wards, he goes along. When players have their children baptized in the cup, he attends the service. And when Mark Messier, or rather Lark Lessier, takes it to Scores in Manhattan, he goes along. Phillip Pritchard: The luckiest guy with white gloves and a dust rag you’ve ever met.

L is for… Lord Stanley, a.k.a. Frederick Arthur Stanley, the 16th Earl of Darby, was the governor general of Canada in the late 1800s. Because his sons were hockey players, he donated a cup to be competed for by all of the amateur teams in Canada in 1892. Soon after, the cup became the trophy sought by professional teams, and in 1926, the Stanley Cup became the official championship trophy for the National Hockey League.

M is for… Montreal, the home of the Les Habitants, the Bleu-Blanc-Rouge, a.k.a. the Montreal Canadiens. The Montreal Canadiens have won the Stanley Cup more than any other team, a record 24 times. Interestingly enough, Montreal is also the last Canadian team to win the Stanley Cup since 1993, which is a sore spot for anyone who comes from Canada. (Trust me, eh.)

N is for… Nashville, the newest team to the Stanley Cup finals party. Let’s see. A game adored by Canadians. Played on ice. What city in the lower 48 would be a great host? Well, if you thought anyone would have chosen Nashville, you probably would have laughed. But who’s laughing now? The Nashville Predators have become the city’s greatest draw; packing in fans in what is the greatest party on ice. The Predators have a house band. They have a crazy tradition of throwing catfish on the ice. They have a bonkers mascot who rides an ATV on the ice. And in the heart of the deep south, in SEC and NASCAR territory, the Predators now boast a legion of stars who cheer on the Preds. Vince Gill, Amy Grant, Keith Urban, Trisha Yearwood, Kelly Clarkson, Paramore, Marcus Mariota, Kings of Leon, Lady Antebellum and Carrie Underwood are all fanatical followers. Besides the Grand Ole Opry, and the clubs on Broadway, Bridgestone Arena is the place to be.

O is for the Ottawa Canal. Remember that “day with the cup” thing? After a night of celebrating their Stanley Cup victory in 1905, members of the Ottawa Silver Seven felt it necessary to see if one of them could kick the Cup into the Ottawa Canal. One of the players actually connected and the cup was sent to the bottom of the canal, where it stayed until the next day when the players, having sobered up, realized where they had left it.

P is for… Pittsburgh, the home of the Penguins and what is now hockey��s reigning dynasty. If you think Pittsburgh is the “Steel City” with a working class population, you would be right. If you think of Pittsburgh as a city in decline with closed steel mills, you would be dead wrong. Pittsburgh has reinvented itself over the past 20 years and turned itself into a leading city in technology, business and medicine. And Pittsburgh is now as strongly identified with the Penguins as they are with the Steelers.

Q is for… Quick Whistle. The most dangerous places in sports have to be the opening turn of the Indianapolis 500, the starting gate of a triple-crown race, a goal line stand in the fourth quarter and in hockey, the front of the net in the last five minutes of a close game. It is not for the faint of heart. Sticks flying. Players punching. And a rule that says as long as the referee can see the puck, the game is still live. Watch for quick whistles by the referees when the action seems about to boil over into actual violence.

R is for… Rinne, a.k.a. Pekka Rinne, the extraordinary goalie for the Nashville Predators. He has been stealing games throughout the playoffs (standing on his head). His goals against average is under 2, which is outstanding, and he has two playoff shutouts so far. His success will determine whether Nashville can challenge the mighty Penguins.

S is for Subban, a.k.a. P.K. Subban, defenseman extraordinaire. Subban was a stalwart defender with a cannon slapshot who was traded to the Predators this year and has been a steady leader for this up and coming team.

T is for… Trapezoid. Hey, wait a minute. I didn’t know there was going to be any math on this thing. Well, if you look closely at the ice behind the net, you will see a red outlined trapezoid. It’s there because it’s the only place where a goalie can go behind the net to control the puck.

U is for… Underwood, as in Carrie Underwood. The singing of the national anthems of both Canada and the United States is a truly emotional moment. In one memorable game, the PA system broke down in Edmonton and the fans sang the AMERICAN National Anthem, a.k.a. NOT their own anthem, perfectly word for word. Try to catch Lauren Hart sing God Bless America before Flyers’ games, or the anthem before games in Chicago and Boston. But topping them all right now is country music superstar Carrie Underwood who has upped the ante of memorable anthems in Nashville.

V is for… Video Goal Judge. Hockey has turned to technology to make sure goals that are scored are legitimate. Quick story. In 1980, my Flyers lost the final game of a hotly contested Stanley Cup final to the New York Islanders. There were two separate goals scored in that final game which would have been disallowed if we had a video goal judge then. (Curse you, Leon Stickle…) Should I mention the final goal scored by the Blackhawks against my same Flyers team in 2010 from a seemingly impossible angle (which may or may not have gone through the side of the goal and not the front)? Let’s move on and hope that the Video Goal Judge doesn’t play too large a part in determining the outcome of a game. (Although for game one, that wish has already been broken.)

W is for… Wraparound. In hockey terms, when a player flies around the net with the puck and tries to tuck it into the other side of the goal. See: Sidney Crosby.

X is for… Extra Time, a.k.a. Overtime. During the regular season, hockey games are settled with a brief overtime period with three players going against three for five minutes, followed by a soccer style shootout if there isn’t a winner. It’s not the greatest way to settle a game. But in the playoffs, they play until there is a winner. Period. My Flyers beat the Penguins in 2000 in a game that went 5 overtime periods after the regular three. And what’s even better, there aren’t may breaks in the action. In the first three periods, there are planned “TV” timeouts. In overtime, they don’t follow that pattern. The game flies by. Playoff overtime hockey is as good as it gets for excitement and heart-stopping action.

Y is for… Yinzers, a term of endearment for anyone who hails from Pittsburgh. It comes from the “Pittsburghese” accent. If you’re lucky enough to attend the finals in person in Pittsburgh (hopefully with OUT a catfish doused in Old Spice strapped to your leg), you might hear people use this term. Yinzer seems to be a term Pittsburgh residents like to call each other, but they might not like it so much if an outsider calls them the same. Use at your own risk.

Z is for… Zamboni, the name of the machine that “cleans” the ice between periods. It was also the nickname my team gave me when I was playing pick-up hockey when I was a kid. Maybe it was because I spent more time lying on the ice rather than actually skating.

And so, there you have it. Enjoy the Stanley Cup finals. Embrace the craziness of the Predators’ fans. Admire the true talent skating for the Penguins. And remember that you need to shave those playoff beards once the last game is over.

[intra-fiducia]

Binan Koukou Chikyuu Bouei-bu LOVE! Novel II - Summary of Chapters 4-6

Earlier chapters (bar my quick ch3) have been translated in full by @vashtijoy! 

Please excuse my incredibly boring summary skills, but here’s a casual rundown of what happens; for more detail, ask me for a full translation. My thoughts are kinda scattered in the text but I think it’s pretty easy to tell what’s textual and what’s me lol

Content warnings apply as usual with this novel for suicidal thoughts/behaviour and unhappy home situations, and also for some potentially slightly shippy comments on my part.

Chapter 4: Play-Family Time

This chapter starts the morning after Chapter 3. Yumoto wakes first out of the main five, though technically Gora was awake even earlier (he’s out chopping wood). Yumoto wakes Ash up and gushes over how fun the sleepover was.

Ash: Yeah......It was alright. But I’m a bit tired.

Even as he said that, though, he was smiling. Of course, Yumoto calls him out on it and tickles his tummy as if cuddling Wombat. The rest of the club wake to Ash’s ‘angelic laughter’ okok. Yumoto teases Ash for his bedhead since it makes him look like a chicken; Ash tells Yumoto he looks like a cream puff. Yumoto takes it as a compliment :P

The rest of the club look on. Ryuu seems a bit sour about it.

Io: What is it, Ryuu? If Ash is happy, isn’t that the most important thing?

YOU TELL HIM, IO.

Ryuu: Io, were you the type to say that sort of stuff?

Woahhhh he totally was. But anyway, Io asks what problem Ryuu could have with Ash being happy. Ryuu throws a pillow at Ash and Yumoto in frustration and Ash gets sad, so Ryuu smushes the pillow in his face to comfort him. Io tells him he’s a kid; Ryuu asks Io to join in.

En-chan is still asleep. Io comments on how poor his sleeping posture is -- his head is covered under the sheets. Atsushi says they have to wake him or they’ll be late to the zoo (oh, back to the plot now).

Yumoto’s hugging a pillow (cute). Atsushi calls out to En even though he knows En won’t wake just from that. He starts to shake him too but it doesn’t work, so Ryuu gets Ash to go under the covers and tickle him, which works well.

Yumoto is confused about the zoo thing; Atsushi realises they’d forgotten to tell him what they’d decided on. Cue short spiel on how Gora used to take Yumoto to the zoo. Ash is all tsun about wanting to go to the zoo, but Yumoto tickles that out of him and is like ‘alright, let’s go then!’ It’s like he’s the one who’d thought of the idea :P So the rest of the guys gang up on him to refute that and poor Yumoto is a little sad. The rest of the club is actually just jealous that Yumoto got to have fun with Ash they’re so petty omg.

THEIR THOUGHTS:

En: How strange; it’s not like me to get jealous...... Atsushi: I thought En-chan might be, but the same goes for me. Am I jealous of Yumoto? Ryuu: Huh? I’m a bit sulky? Io: Yumoto just wants to go to the zoo himself, but /we/ decided to go to the zoo as a result of searching Ash’s memories.....(far out Io, a couple of issues there)

Yumoto doesn’t even know a thing. He talks about how he gets touched seeing the animal parents lick their kids --- BAM TRIGGER WORD --- but it’s too late when everyone realises and Ash is like ‘huuh so that’s what zoos are like’. The seniors are all like ugh Yumoto stop in their thoughts :( BUT! Ash defies their expectations and smiles happily. Io considers buying the zoo for Ash.

Yumoto: Right? Zoos are fun. I was always watching the house alone, but when I saw the animal families it reminded me how nice families are.

Wombat understands that Yumoto instinctively wanted to convey to Ash how wonderful families are.

The seniors get jealous again (seriously guys, stop) but they kind of realise they’re all jealous and Ryuu goes for the denial. En-chan sees right through him lol. Enter Gora with a mountain of onigiri~ aaaand end of section.

***

They’d heard the zoo was small, but it’d be more appropriate to say it had been forgotten by the townsfolk. There were no lions or elephants or giraffes in this zoo! You had to pay to feed the animals and the entrance fee wasn’t cheap. And even though there was a farm-like place there, you couldn’t eat delicious soft serves or drink fresh cows’ milk, and you couldn’t ride around a track on a pony. There was a monkey mountain and you could pet the rabbits and walk with the goats, but it was pretty sparse. AKA rather than a zoo it was more like a petting zoo in the corner of a park. That panda on the homepage was a pretty big dream. However! <-- quote novel haha

According to Yumoto, up until the that month the zoo had only had a couple of animals, but they’d gotten something new in. There are capybaras! Io explains what they are; Yumoto praises him for being knowledgeable; Zaou doubts that Io bought stocks in the zoo because he liked animals. Bingo --- Io had no interest in the zoo itself but he’d heard capybaras were becoming more popular worldwide. The stocks were cheap when he bought them, too. 

En: Amazing, Io. Did he sense the smell of money coming from the capybaras? Atsushi: ......Can you really make money off capybaras?

Yumoto tries to explain what capybaras are to Ash but En and Atsushi keep teasing him for his rough explanation. He gets a bit sad :( Io takes over the explanation (he’d looked it up the previous night! :P). Apparently the capybara goods (and those alone) were flying off the shelves. I could summarise what’s said about capybaras, or you could read the wiki. Just saying :P The important thing is that they like baths and are easy to get along with --- they have strong family bonds and easily get used to humans. Ash respects Io’s intelligence. Oh dear, now everyone’s getting jealous again >.>

En: ......He’s just repeating what he found word-for-word. *sigh*...... Ryuu: He only sees capybaras as a source of income. Even I could say that much with access to a search engine.

Meanwhile, Atsushi had been looking stuff up on his mobile (see, put those words into action lol). He offers a tidbit about there being a type of capybara called a carpincho.

Ash: Ahaha, what a funny name~

 to which everyone else (including Yumoto) gets jealous and is like ‘ughh what useless info I can’t believe Ash was into that’. Io’s frustrated because he thought it wasn’t necessary, and yet...! Yumoto is unsure what he is feeling (it’s jealousy).

Ryuu: Damn it! I won’t lose, Kinugawa-senpai! En: It’s been a while since I’ve seen Atsushi’s smug face. Io: This isn’t like you, Kinugawa-senpai. Fine; I’ll take on this challenge.

Yumoto wonders why they’re all glaring at each other. Wombat tries to make a speech about how it’s immature to quibble over whose love is greater, but nobody listens to him. Io makes a jab at Ryuu usually only being interested in girls; Ryuu ofc says Io is usually only interested in money. En-chan agrees :P And then Atsushi joins in and asks what’s going on with En since he’s usually not interested in anything. Atsushi takes the lead again!

Thus began the defence club’s heated “Ash Contest”.

***

Location: Capybara Kingdom (a bit of an exaggeration :P). Wombat is troubled, but he figures this is their way of expressing their love for Ash. Yumoto has no idea what’s going on. As long as Ash is happy, he’s happy!

They’ve decided to take it in turns starting from Yumoto to have play dates with Ash. The order was decided by rock-paper-scissors and goes Yumoto --> Ryuu --> Io --> En --> Atsushi. Wombat is still worried about it since ‘it’s the first time he’s seen them like this’.

En notes that Atsushi seems pretty composed. Atsushi refutes the idea, but En still feels it.

Wombat: What can I do, merely sitting on the bench like this? There has to be something. I’m meant to be a specialist on love. Umm, something I can do for young Ash......

***

Yumoto gets excited seeing the capybaras but they ignore him. Ash is a bit bleh because there were supposed to be capybara families there but he only sees one kid. Apparently there’s a mother, father and three children. Ash is worried because the capybara seems cold. There’s no water in the bath! And where's the rest of the family! The zoo attendant has to come and explain that it was raining the previous day, and also that they just argue when they’re out together AHAHA. Wombat forgets he’s supposed to be a soft toy and is all like ‘oh noooo Ash will never know what familial love is like nowww’. Io starts on an impassioned rant about how he needs to reform the exhibit. blah blah how scandalous even animals fight poor ash

Ryuu tries to switch in. They’re all like ‘kids aren’t girls you know’. Io tells him that Ash doesn’t want LOVE as in the love girls want with Ryuu, but rather the warmth of familiar love. Ryuu says he knows, but that Ash needs more than that; just watch.

He tries to explain to Ash that the capybara’s being a lone wolf. Ash doesn’t get it. Everyone is all boo what’s with that explanation BUT in the end Ash is pretty happy to accept that being alone can be cool too. Yumoto suddenly starts talking about how they’ll be Ash’s family, because if Ash can’t get love from the capybaras, he’ll have to get love from the defence club. The plan changes to seeing who can be the best dad for Ash.

WOAH SHIP ALERT.

En and Atsushi lock eyes and begin to hash out a plan together.

En: Atsushi, according to Wom-san’s plan, everyone’s going to be a fatherly, but it’s not ideal to have fathers only, right? Isn’t it a bit much? Atsushi: That might be. En: So it might be good for us to change up the positions. Atsushi: Yeah. I was thinking the same thing myself. En: We’ll figure it out, but it might be good for someone to be a bit motherly. Atsushi: I see. It’s not like we can go with an older sister type. En: Nope. Atsushi: A motherly character, huh. I might be able to do that?

AND

Atsushi: Your personality isn’t quite motherly......yeah, no way. You completely miss the morning on Sundays; you just evoke the feeling of someone told things like Papa, all you do is sleep; you’re such an old man.

That’s why Atsushi feels he has no choice but to take over the mothering role by process of elimination, but he still doesn’t think it’s possible for him. Maybe it is better for everyone to be dads after all? He’ll just be a dad with some motherly traits. En asks whether they want to cooperate as a dad and a motherly dad.

Atsushi: That’s fine, but......En-chan, will you be able to be a good papa? En: It’ll be better than me trying to be a good mama, right?

As Atsushi’s explaining some stuff to Ash, En thinks about how Atsushi is totally a good mother.

Cue exposition about how Ash is so lovely and cute and wonderful etcetcetc ok next section SORRY I’M JUST VERY DONE WITH ALL THE REPETITION

***

The activity starts with Ryuu offering to carry Ash on his shoulders. En thinks that Ryuu’s short, so he won’t be as good as it as En would be. Atsushi is worried about how he can be both a father and a mother to Ash.

Io: Hmm......straight to skinship, huh. That’s so like Ryuu.

OKAY IO. He then respects how the simple act of carrying kids on one’s shoulders can resonate with them more than anything. After all, Ash’s entry to the zoo was free (thanks to Io) and that didn’t bring a smile to his face.

After ten minutes, Ryuu gets tired. Io time!

It’s a bit cloudy, so Io suggests sitting down and getting something warm (like lemonade???? Io????) to drink. Ryuu’s pretty shocked by his behaviour and wonders whether Io’s actually used to this sort of thing. Wombat tells him it’s the power of love :P

Meanwhile, En-chan is totally amused. The rest spot they’re going to is reserved for shareholders. Io’s using the power of money even with a child as his partner.

Io tries to leave Ash while he goes to buy drinks, but Ash wants to go with him. That reminds Io of how he needs to focus on the important things because the crux of it is that Ash wants love. They end up buying lemonade and coffee.

So apparently it’s about to be Summer, but it’s still cold. The rest of the club has to wait for thirty minutes out in the cold. As En reaches his limit, Io and Ash finally emerge from the break area, looking very warm and toasty. They bring hot lemonade for everyone; Yumoto drinks it and pulls faces at the sourness; Ash laughs at him.

En and Atsushi get fired up over it. They ask what Ash wants to do and it turns out he wants to wash his hands since they’re sticky from the lemonade. En offers to give him a piggy back. Atsushi does his usual ‘wow how rare for you to be fired up’ thing, and En is surprised himself at how warm and fuzzy he feels carrying Ash.

After Ash washes his hands, he’s hungry. Time for lunch! Yumoto takes over, and En/Atsushi lament how all they got to do was take him to the bathroom ahahahahaha

They get to eat Gora’s handmade onigiri ahh. According to Yumoto, they look plain white, but they’re not. One of them has a pickled plum inside (like that winner’s coin in the cake tradition in England or something, I guess?). 

En: Urk, I don’t like picked plum. Atsushi: You can’t say that, En-chan. Gora-san went to the trouble of waking up early to make it for us.

En backs off :P Atsushi holds out a wet tissue to Ash and asks him which rice ball he wants. En starts another little thought about how Atsushi’s far more a mother than a father.

Ryuu: Wet wipes?! Who has those, usually? And a high school boy, at that!

On top of that, the wipes are antibacterial! NICE, ATSUSHI.

Cue sob story about how Ash’s lunch was only ever sandwiches (he wonders if his mother even knows what pickled plums are) and now that she’s in America she doesn’t make lunch for him.

Most of the defence club aren’t happy that Ash has been reminded of his mother, but Yumoto’s pretty excited over the sandwiches. He manages to turn Ash’s mood around.

Apparently making sandwiches is more effort than making onigiri I’M LAUGHING Yumoto sums up the trip by saying that he’s glad they came to the zoo, even if the capybara exhibit was a disappointment. (Everyone: That last bit was unnecessary!)

En asks Ash how the onigiri is and Ash hurries to try one. He makes a face because it’s sour; everyone laughs (the biggest laughs of the day!).

Atsushi: That ‘Ash~ How’s the umeboshi onigiri?’ was so dad-like; nice. You asked it knowing he hadn’t eaten one yet. That’s really like you. En: Shush, you......

HAHA HI

They all start to ponder whether they’ll ever be able to solve Ash’s actual problem, since they can’t be with him together. They want to bring him home wearing that angelic smile of his.

Chapter 5: The Angel’s Little Fever

Ryuu suggests that Io do something about the capybaras, at least, with his money. Usually, Io would reject these suggestions, but this time he agrees, as it’s regretful Ash only got to see one. It’s rare for Io to express regret.

Apparently Ash’s mood has been going downhill since lunch. Atsushi asks him if he’s cold, but nope. Yumoto tickles his tummy, but to no avail. Ash just says ‘it’s nothing’...while clearly looking as if there is something please communicate, child. En asks Atsushi what he thinks is going on.

Yufuin had a habit of turning to Atsushi when he didn’t know something.

And then:

Zaou, too, soon turned to Naruko when he didn’t know something.

Unfortunately, nobody knows! Yay! They figure it must be because he’s thinking about his parents or something, so they decide to change locations. They try to think of places they liked visiting as kids.

En: I’ve always been the indoor type......I can only remember going from home to school and back again. Atsushi: For me......it might have been the school grounds......and then the library or the assembly hall. Ryuu: If you’re after date spots, I know plenty, but...

Sometimes Yumoto goes camping with Gora sometimes, so they decide to go hiking/camping on Mt. Binan. Atsushi’s like ‘haven’t we been there recently’ and En-chans remembers they used to go for excursions back in primary school. According to Io, there didn’t used to be much around, but recently they built a hot spring there to revitalise the town and there are a lot more buses that go straight there. He’d been wondering whether he should invest there, but apparently a lot of others were going to make it quite extravagant, so he held back; besides, the Kurotama Bath is enough for him. They decide to go, and return to the Kurotama Baths at night.

Ash is in a bit of a better mood after that.

***

The bus carries them right into the heart of the mountain, and then it’s a twenty minute walk from there to the top. Io complains about the company being halfhearted by not taking them all the way to the top. They can see a building at the top that really doesn’t suit the overall feel of Binan City --- it’s the hot spring. Nobody likes the look of it.

Ash seems to be getting tired. Yumoto offers to piggyback him, prompting more jealousy from Ryuu. Meanwhile, Io is still complaining about the bus route ahaha

ENTER THE STUDENT COUNCIL

A limousine passes by them. It looks familiar to the third years. The only people who’d have a car like that in this town...it’s Kin-chan’s family.

***

Inside the limousine, the student council are having a nice chat. Akoya things the people they just overtook seemed familiar. Kinshirou knows it’s the defense club because only they would walk around on the road in such a disorganised manner. Arima noticed the kid. Akoya hopes they’re not going to the spa, but Kinshirou reassures him that they have private rooms. He’d just like to avoid running into them in the public areas (especially since it’s a holiday).

Arima’s watching Kinshirou out of the corner of his eyes with a bit of a teasing smile.

Ibushi: Well, it’s not that bad if we go in with them.

But Kinshirou doesn’t answer.

***

Yup, even as they get closer, the spa still looks just as gaudy to En-chan. Zaou reckons it’s like a high-class love hotel; Io retorts that he doesn’t know what they’re like.

Atsushi is optimistic, saying that they don’t usually come to these sorts of places. Yumoto, of course, is super excited. It’s like a castle to him, and he hopes there’ll be those lion fountains with water coming from the mouths.

Ash isn’t very energetic. And wait, he’s shivering? They decide to go inside quickly; it’s very nice with all its stone floors and chandeliers etc

AND THERE, UNDERNEATH THE CHANDELIERS, is the student council, sitting at a table decorated with roses. They’re elegantly enjoying welcome drinks.

Yumoto is excited to see them. En is like...ohh man. Io realises that the investors who’d made the building all extravagant are likely to be Kin-chan’s family...

Kin-chan is clearly displeased. Beside him, Arima’s smiling and enjoying the situation i like this ibushi more than the manga version tbh.

Atsushi tries to make small talk but when Kinshirou stops answering him Akoya takes over.

Akoya: You knew we might be here, and yet you still came. On purpose. In other words, you had no consideration.

Ryuu gets mad; it’s like Akoya’s saying they’re not allowed to come! Arima smiles and says it’s fine for them to be here since it is a public facility. Ryuu says he won’t get in the same tub as Akoya, to which Akoya replies that’s natural, since the student council has a private room. Yumoto tells them that baths should be for everyone to share! ‘Naked bonding!’

Kinshirou admits that this is a public space, so he has no problem with them being present. He asks what Ash is doing there, and Yumoto says that Ash is his little brother for the day. Kinshirou’s lost for words......or rather, keeping silent. Instead, Arima laughs and says, ‘your little brother for the day. You’re as interesting as ever, Hakone Yumoto-kun.’

Then, surprisingly, Kinshirou speaks again. Ash looks unwell to him, and they suddenly realise that he has a fever. Then, again, unexpectedly, Kinshirou offers to lend them the car. Even Akoya stares at him for that. Atsushi beams and thanks him, and En turns to him to tell him that the offer is appreciated, but they’ll be fine. Kinshirou doesn’t reply.

Yumoto’s about to run back the way they came, but En stops him, because there’s a faster way than a limousine! HE’S SO SMART and Yumoto understands. Love Making happens. Atsushi’s worried about the practicalities of Yumoto transforming with Ash on his back, but Wombat assures them that thanks to his highly advanced technology it’ll be okay. Wombat’s actually kinda useful in this novel ahaha

 There’s some banter about why they’re still spouting lines when there’s no enemy to defeat. En and Atsushi are embarrassed. En tells everyone that only he and Atsushi need take Ash to the hospital *waggles eyes*. Everyone else is to contact Ash’s dad and bring him to the hospital. EN-CHAN. HE’S BRILLIANT.

Io is the first to agree. En picks Ash up bridal-style.

En: In the end, it’s this again. (referring to when he’d first caught Ash)

The other three start arguing over who’s going to find Ash’s father first. Io’s already looked up his workplace so they’ll branch out from there.

Atsushi: When you do that, you seem more like a knight than a dad. En: What’s with that.

The two of them sped towards town, cutting through the wind, truly looking like knights protecting a princess.

***

Meanwhile, Kinshirou is remembering Atsushi’s thanks (but not En’s, lol, bc Yufuin who???).

Ibushi: We didn’t even do anything deserving of gratitude, hm.

Kinshirou doesn’t reply. Akoya takes a sip of tea (black) and says with less bitterness than usual that they’re idiots, since it’d be warmer in the car. Kinshirou agrees. Arima says that it’s like them, though. Kinshirou leaves wordlessly but he comes back to his VIP seat not five minutes later.

Akoya asks where he was, naturally, and Kinshirou waves him off with a really vague answer. Arima’s smiling teasingly again.

Ibushi: Speaking of which, the only hospital operating at this time on a holiday would be your family, right, Kinshirou? [...] You won’t let yourself say that you called to ask them to take care of an emergency case coming now.

lol arima why you gotta call him out like that

Kinshirou: You’re talking quite a bit.

aka shut up in polite words ahaha

Chapter 6: Let’s Talk Love in the Tub

A neighbouring town to Binan city. A large road ran through the town, but the bullet train didn’t reach it, so there were only small shops etc by the road. It’s an even quieter town than Binan since it doesn’t have hot springs to liven it up.

Scarlet and Vesta are searching the town. They’re in the most residential area, but nobody’s around; they recall that Ash said his father barely came home. Io’s missing. Ryuu tells Yumoto that Io must have gone straight to Ash’s father’s workplace. Yumoto decides to yell for Ash’s dad before they leave just in case, and while Ryuu is dubious, it actually works. A tired-looking man in his thirties rushes to them all ‘did you say Ash?!?!’

Io’s shocked that Ryuu and Yumoto found Ash’s father first. There’s a short conversation where Yumoto tells Ash’s dad to spend more time with him.

***

Ash has already been examined by the time they reach. He’s calling for his parents while he’s sleeping in bed. Wombat’s finally feeling guilty but En tells him that there were problems even without that. Wombat laments that though they spread love as the Battle Lovers, they caused this poor child so much suffering.

A bit more talk on how Wombat will, try, in time, to do something about Mr Tawarayama.

***

Ash’s dad grips Ash’s small pale hands in both his own while the defence club look on from a distance. Yumoto tells him that Ash will be okay because his dad is holding his hand.

Ash’s father: Honestly...I’d been thinking he hadn’t eaten much lately. He’s never had much of an appetite, but that’s been especially true of late......Even the dinner I prepare is barely touched when I come home...... Yumoto: When I’m alone, I don’t have much appetite either. Eating alone is no fun.

YUMOTO DOESN’T MEAN TO BE CRUEL. But like, ouch. En and Atsushi try to soften the blow by saying that Ash’s dad works so it can’t be helped. Ash’s dad apologises to Ash for coming home late all the time.

There is a stilted, awkward conversation between Ash and his dad. En tries to smooth things over when it peters out. But as it turns out. Ash doesn’t want to go home.

***

Ash was fed up with being a good boy. He hated both his parents --- but there was nobody around for him to tell that to, so all he could do was cry. He called his grandfather wanting to hear his voice, but nobody picked up. Maybe he was busy. So he tried emailing him, but received no reply. He rushed out of the house, thinking that there had to be some reason why, and went to the school......He was afraid that his grandfather had gone somewhere far away, like his mother had. He climbed a tree hoping to spot a glimpse of his grandfather, and there decided he didn’t want to live anymore. Not even he knew whether he was serious. But the next thing he knew, he was falling towards the ground. As he fell, scared that it would hurt when he hit the ground, he was caught in the arms of an older boy.

***

The defence club can’t believe that they’d met Ash only the day before. They’ve all grown so attached to him. Wombat can’t talk because he’s pretending to be a toy, but he wants someone to explain that Ash’s dad really does love him and worry about him.

Yumoto addresses Ash’s dad (who startles at it) instead.

Yumoto: Ash said he doesn’t want to go home, but I don’t think that’s actually true! It’s not that he doesn’t want to go home; it’s just lonely being alone all the time!

Everyone agrees. Yumoto tells Ash that it’s okay to tell others when you’re lonely.

Yumoto: When I was younger, I felt lonely too at times. But An-chan always told me, ‘Yumoto, you can tell me if you’re lonely.’ Kids don’t have to hold things in. So Ash, you can say it too, that you’re lonely. Okay?

Ash gets a bit angry. He tells Yumoto that he’s really childlike.

Ash: I mean, my parents are both busy with work, you know? It can’t be helped......Wouldn’t it be wrong to say I was lonely? It’s not like they can take time off. They wouldn’t earn any money, and we wouldn’t be able to eat.

They all wonder how to tell Ash that there needs to be a balance, that Ash is too young to tamp down on his loneliness for those reasons. Wombat understands that Ash’s dad desperately wants to say something, but doesn’t know what; he’s the sort who isn’t good with his words, even though he’s not a bad person. mmmmwelllllll there’s always an excuse isn’t there.....

Yumoto says that Ash should tell his parents anyway.

Ash: And what would that change? Would they quit their jobs and stay with me all the time? Would they bring me to the zoo? [...] Nothing would change, okay? So if I said I was lonely and nothing changed, that would make me even lonelier......

En says that it does sound like it can’t be helped, but he puts a hand on Ash’s head. Yumoto sees that Ash’s dad does love his son, so he tells Ash about how he used to tell Gora he was lonely sometimes, and when he did, Gora would always play with him. So what Ash needs is......an older brother?!?!

That’s not right :P

They realise that Mr Tawarayama was to Ash what Gora was like to Yumoto. Then Yumoto remembers Gora used to tell him something...Atsushi gets impatient waiting for him to elaborate (as does Ryuu immediately after). Yumoto realises that there’s a deeper feeling to express than loneliness. You have to say, ‘I’m lonely! I love you!’ Then, apparently, you must hug.

Everyone is confused. But love is something you start by giving, not receiving! is it really but ok sure

En-chan explains that the reason Ash gets lonely when his parents aren’t around is.........He gets a bit embarrassed, but he finishes the sentence.

En: It’s because you love your papa and your mama. Right, Atsushi~ Atsushi: That’s right. Good explanation, En-chan. En: Shush, you.

Ryuu agrees that when you want a girl to like you, it’s fastest to say you like her first. Io retorts (as usual) that that’s a bit of a different thing. Ash’s dad wipes tears from his eyes (even though he did nothing but stand there the whole time) and Ash is a little surprised by that.

***

Back to the baths! ...Or is it, because Ash has a fever, so he really shouldn’t be taking a bath. Yumoto gets the feeling that his baths are good for colds, though! Ash’s dad promises to go with Ash when he’s recovered. Ash is still shocked, but he’s happy.

***

The defence club return to the Kurotama Bath and Ryuu tells Io to do something about the zoo again. Io’s already submitted his opinion on it as a shareholder. Atsushi tells En he’s being uncharacteristically quiet....and it’s rare for Atsushi to turn the conversation to En. (is it really??? huh) Usually, it’s En calling ‘Atsushi~’.

En’s wondering which of them represented family best to Ash. There’s a bit of a dispute, during which Ryuu tells Io he was more of a guardian, to which Io realises that while yes, he was, guardians are meant to stand in for parents, and parents are family. Apparently this is a childish rebuttal. En says that without him catching Ash, none of this would have happened, so this is all thanks to him (he uses ‘ore-sama’ cute). Ryuu doesn’t think that’s quite right.

Atsushi says that while he was plain, he managed quite alright with Ash. And En says he was a total mother; Ryuu says it’s pretty great because it was natural; Atsushi is like, ‘uh, is that a compliment???’

They all tell him it is and while Atsushi is a bit mixed about it, he doesn’t dislike it. Wombat tries to sum things up by saying love is something you give first, and Yumoto’s like ‘this time you were just a pink toy for the whole thing!’

Cue cuddle time!

The sound of wood being chopped leads Yumoto to reminisce about how Gora is always loving him, so he wants to give love to people just like that!

En and Atsushi are like, that’s fine, but saying it out loud is a very Yumoto thing to do. They tease him a bit about how Yumoto’s more of a kid than Ash.

***

Several days later. It’s drizzling at dusk. A blonde boy holding an umbrella heads to the Kurotama Bath on his father’s back.

The rain soon stops, in the sky just above father and sun, shines a rainbow, faint yet radiant with the entire spectrum of colour.

THE END

(There is an afterword, but not much is said there.)

[ethalarian]

Defending the Perimeter: Farmers and Sharp Sticks

Herding cats. That’s what this was. Shahin heaved a heavy sigh as he pored over the seemingly endless mound of reports that had piled up on his makeshift desk during his absence, detailing everything from progress on the defensive emplacements to contact reports on patrols (which boiled down to “we didn’t see anything”) to letters from the few farmers in the outlying reaches of Silverbrook they had not yet convinced to seek shelter in the safety of the town proper. Many of the younger farmers, particularly those with families, were easy enough to get through to. The Sunguard simply did not have enough soldiers to cover such a wide berth of land. 

A knock on the door perked his ears and pulled his attention away from the mountain of paper. Reflexively, he scowled at the thought of yet another complaint. There was not enough food, there were not enough weapons, there was not enough medicine, the list wore on and on and on without end. Heaving a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and straightened his tabard and - still glowering at the door - made his way across tiny upstairs room he’d commandeered as his command post to see what the problem was now. He took a moment to pause, breathe deeply, and put on a less unpleasant face before he pulled the door open. On the other side was a tall, broad shouldered Blood Elf adorned in the same crimson and black regalia as Shahin. He was fair skinned and stern looking, facial features low and thick cut. It took Shahin a few moments longer than it should have to recognize him.

“Ah. Knight-Sergeant Heartwood.” At first, he was relieved to see another one of his own kind; soldiers he understood. They made sense. He could talk to them. Then, another thought struck him. “...if you’ve brought me more paperwork, I swear I’m going to throw you out a window.”

“Sir. I have no reports, sir, but there is an issue in the town square.”

Jolly as ever, thought Shahin as Heartwood grumbled in his usual monotone bass. With a sigh, he gestured for the walking statue of a man to take the lead and pulled the door closed behind him. Whatever was going on couldn’t be nearly as mind numbing as sitting behind that desk. Silver lining! Probably! Both men descended down the staircase and trod through the living space of the small house, doing their best not to even more inconvenience the family that was hosting them. Outside was a bustle of activity; villagers scurried to and fro, led by the nose where they would be needed by militiamen. Children ran and played in the street, their jovial laughter a bizarre contrast to the otherwise dour mood that had settled over the town. As a group of children passed by them playing some kind of game involving a stick and a loop of wood, Shahin was certain he saw the slightest hint of a smile tug at the corner of Heartwood’s mouth.

Down the road, closer to the middle of town, Shahin spotted what he felt was likely their destination. Someone had parked what looked like an alchemist’s shop on wheels right in the middle of the road and that had drawn quite a crowd. As they drew closer to the cart, Shahin was better able to make out the details. At the center of the crowd, standing on the cart proper, was a tall woman with a mane of crimson curls who looked to be gesturing to the many plants scattered on her rolling alchemy shop and explaining them to the villagers. The armor she wore was intricate and looked to be expensive, the silver detailing shimmering in brilliant contrast against the dark red backing. She wore a wide smile as Shahin and Sergeant Statue passed by, too engrossed in her work to give much notice to either of them. Though he didn’t recognize her face, her tabard indicated she was Sunguard.  Clearly there was no need for his presence here; all seemed quiet.

He made a mental note to speak to her later.

Both men rounded another corner and wound deeper into the small village. The nearer they got to the square, the more apparent the problem became. Dissenting voices shouted over one another loudly enough that even a street over Shahin could hear them clearly enough to get an idea of the situation. He breathed in deep through his nose and exhaled slowly through clenched teeth, bracing himself for the argument he knew was literally around the corner. Sure enough, they made the final turn that spilled them out into the town square and were greeted by another small crowd of people standing back toward the fountain at the center of the square while two men stood toe to toe, each shouting over the other. Off to the side, in crimson and gold, was Knight-Adept Autumnlight. She was pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes tightly shut as the two men argued, clearly fed up with the both of them.

Thankfully, Shahin and Sergeant Heartwood arrived before she murdered anyone.

Her head snapped up and around at the sound of approaching footfalls, heels clicking together and arms rigid at her sides. With drilled precision, her right hand thumped against her chest in salute as she barked “Sir!” at their approach. Shahin returned her salute, albeit a little more half-hearted, and gestured for her to stand down. Immediately, the blonde woman’s posture relaxed and she brushed a stray strand of hair from her face.

“Adept,” Knight-Sergeant Heartwood rumbled, “status report for the Emberward.”

“That won’t be necessary. I think I’ve got an idea of what’s going on here.”

Shahin approached the two arguing men, whose shouting had reached a pitch he was certain only dogs could hear at this point, and drew in another deep breath.

“Gentlemen.” Neither of them answered. Annoyed, he tried again. “Gentlemen.” Still, neither man would stop shouting. Shahin turned over his shoulder toward Heartwood and gestured forward.

“If you would please, Sergeant.”

“That is enough!”

The man’s voice boomed like a bomb had been dropped in the middle of the square and all heads swiveled immediately toward him. Shahin was certain he could have heard a mouse cross the street in the now deafening silence. He smiled warmly and gave a nod.

“Thank you, Sergeant. Now then.” He turned his focus back to the arguing villagers. “My name is Shahin, Emberward of the Sunguard and commander of the Blood Knights presently protecting your village.” Both of them turned toward him and opened their mouths at the same time to try and speak over one another. Shahin held up a hand to silence them. “Let’s keep this civilized, if you please. One at a time.”

The man on the left glowered at him. He was older, thin, and looked like a genuinely unpleasant fellow. Between his callused hands, simple choice of clothing, slightly stooped posture and all around grouchy disposition, Shahin placed him as a farmer.

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Wiarrin Firevale. I own half the farms that feed this village.”

“And yours?”

“Jaeth Silversun. I run a store here in town.”

Shahin smiled at the two of them and folded his hands behind his back.

“Much more pleasant. Now then. What seems to be the problem?”

Almost immediately, Wiarrin got right up in Shahin’s face and jabbed a gnarled finger into his chest, making sure to repeat the gesture every few words.

“You are the problem! You and your Blood Knights and your Sunguard! You killed a bunch of those bandits, and now they’ll be back- only this time they’ll be out for blood!” Shahin arched a brow as the old man practically shouted at him. “And now- now that you’ve made this mess, we’re going to suffer for it! You’re asking us to abandon our farms, our livelihood! We’ve spent generations working this land and now these bastards are going to destroy it because you stuck your noses where they don’t belong!”

Before Shahin could even start to open his mouth to speak, Jaeth stepped in.

“Oh, come off it you old goat! They saved our lives and risked their own to do it. These people aren’t the problem, the bandits are!”

“And what would you know about our problems, city boy?! You may be safe here behind your walls, but we ain’t got that! It’s the farmers that suffer most from raids like this. If it wasn’t for them-” Wiarrin jabbed his finger right in Shahin’s face now “-they’d have done what bandits always do. They’d have taken what they wanted and left us alone.”

Clearly this was going nowhere. Shahin cast a sidelong glance at Knight-Sergeant Heartwood, who was unreadable and stoic-faced as ever, and Knight-Adept Autumnlight, who looked somewhere between embarrassed and apologetic. Slowly, his attention shifted from his two Knights to the assembled crowd of townsfolk. In their faces he saw the same things he’d seen his entire life; fear, dismay, sadness, anger, and some smatterings of hope. As the two men devolved into an argument again, Shahin pushed his way in between them and decided to address the group as a whole.

“Listen to me, all of you.” He was having to project a bit to ensure he could be heard over the bickering duo behind him. “You do not know me, but I know you. I have seen your faces before because I was one of you.” Suddenly, the arguing behind him died down. “I was born a farmer’s son in the south of Quel’thalas. I know what it is to live as you do, to live in a state of constant fear. Fear that the crops will not yield enough harvest, fear that the rains will not come, fear that one day a roving band of Trolls will decide that your family suddenly looks appetizing.”

All eyes were on him now.

“Your elder is correct. We bloodied the bandits and now they will be sure to return, angry and seeking revenge. It is the Sunguard’s intent to safeguard your village, but we lack the resources to protect the outlying farmlands. For this reason, yes, we have asked you to relocate. Yes, it is likely your farms will burn and your crops will be destroyed.” A quiet murmur rippled through the crowd. “But farms can be rebuilt. Tools can be mended. Crops can be replanted. Your lives and the lives of your families, however, are not so easily replaced. We are confident we can hold the village against any reprisal.”

“Then why,” demanded Wiarrin, “are you asking our people to fight?!”

Shahin sighed.

“Because the Sunguard won’t always be here to defend your village for you. With all the woes of the world, we cannot keep a permanent force stationed here. Not even a token one.” He leveled his gaze squarely on Wiarrin. “If you learn to defend yourselves, you won’t need us ever again.”

The old man sputtered for a moment, looking indignant as anger rose to his cheeks. “And with what, exactly, are we to fight? Pitchforks? Shovels? We’re farmers! We have no weapons!”

A smile crept across Shahin’s face. He reached toward the Knight-Sergeant with his left hand and silently gestured to his colleague. Within a moment, he had what he needed gripped firmly in his hand.

“With this,” he said, holding it above his head, “the simple spear.” Shahin offered the spear to Wiarrin and gestured for him to take it. The old man warily accepted.

“The weapon you have in your hand has won more wars than any cannon, any siege weapon, any magic, or any knight ever has in the history of warfare. The spear is effective and it’s inexpensive, ranging from something as elaborate as a halberd or a ranseur to something as simple as a sharpened piece of wood. We will teach you to march. We will teach you discipline. We will teach you to fight.”

His attention fell again upon the silenced crowd before him. “Those of you who wish to help form the Silverbrook Militia and learn to protect your homes and your lives may speak with Knight-Sergeant Heartwood and Knight-Adept Autumnlight. We will accept any and all volunteers. If you want a place, we will secure one for you. Those of you who do not wish to pursue this path may do so without reprimand. No one will conscript you.”

The murmur had elevated to a low roar now as the crowd began to talk amongst themselves now. Already a few villagers had begun to step forward and approach Autumnsun, who now looked as much relieved as she was happy. Satisfied that the situation was now resolved, Shahin exhaled a breath and began to casually stroll back the way he and the Knight-Sergeant had come.

“Keep me posted on recruitment numbers, if you please. The Knight-Commander will be keen to know what resources we have available to us.”

Heartwood nodded and, as Shahin rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight, added:

“I thought you were going to throw me out a window if I brought you more paperwork.”

( @sakialyn and @sparklepriest for mentions )

[pen-whipped]

The Rabbit Hole

(for my friend that asked to remain nameless)

Just west of Colorado Springs, Colorado is a town tucked so neatly on the side of a mountain that the entire place rests on a slope. Buildings look half as tall on one side as they do the other. Ma’ & Pa’ shops and taverns line the main street, while houses hang off cliff sides. Usually, walking the streets is a nearly perfect 50/50 mix of locals and outsiders, and it’s obvious who's whom. It's like one part hemp jewelry and sun skirts and the other part Fossil watches and Polo t-shirts. Not today though; it’s raining. No one’s out. So this visiting burlesque performer—whom I’ll refer to as "Ms. International" (because she’s a professional performer who trots the globe)—she and I stay in the car and watch the slanted town just as one would a movie at a drive-in theatre: through the windshield.

After Colorado, Ms. International tells me, she and a handful of other burlesque stars are going to Australia for a two-week tour. Burlesquers in the "land down under" makes me think about the rabbits Westerners took there and offset the ecosystem. I imagine burlesque with no known predators in Australia, resting at the top of the food chain and disrupting the order. I hope your guide there is better than I am here, I say to her, referring to the limited information I provide of the town as it plays on the windshield screen. Then I’m off the rabbits and on to bigger thoughts, thinking about how burlesque is conquering the planet these days like colonialism, imperialism, and capitalism. All “–isms” of Western affairs—Burlesque-ism, brought in for sport and game only to multiply exponentially and cause chaos among the natives.

Through the rainy windshield the buildings bleed together and become one, washing into a collage until it all looks like the same mess. I mention the rumors about the little town having more Pagans than any other city in the nation — another really bad tour guide informational bit. Not like devil-worship Pagans, I clarify, more like earthy hippies. And Ms. International’s quick to say she understands. There’s only a moment’s pause before she slides her eyes toward me beneath her droopy Jessica-Rabbit-like eyelids, sort of the way a crook in a cartoon would when looking around to make sure no one was suspicious of the crime about to be committed. Then she says out of the side of her mouth, I practice Santeria, ya know.

I don’t know.  All I know is the moment she says she practices Santeria that Sublime song jingles inside my head. I don’t let her know this song reverbs in my skull and gets stuck on repeat of the only four lines I know from it, even as our conversation continues. But the guy in the song says he does not, in fact, practice Santeria anyway, and he also ain’t got no crystal ball. But Ms. International immediately has my curiosity in the palm of her hands like a crystal ball, clouded and hazy and swirling about, ready to discover some fortune.

I remember another line in the song, something about poppin’ a cap in Sancho and slappin’ a chick down, and I ask Ms. International exactly what Santeria is. For some reason Voodoo comes to mind, I tell her. The song loses its lyrics, limited as they are, and becomes a hum in my head. Background music. Score for the film melting on the glass movie screen before us.

And so she gives me a history lesson — more informative than, but about as brief as, my tour guiding of the rain soaked town - which, by the way, we are no longer giving much attention to since this Santeria bit is far more intriguing and has an internal soundtrack, same four vocal lines mixed with bad humming as it may be. While both were heavily influenced by Africans via the slave trade, Voodoo grew from the mixture of cultures in Haiti. Santeria, she explains, grew from almost the same mixture, only in Cuba, so a dash more Spanish - which inevitably means a dash more Catholic. It’s what the slightest difference in any recipe will do, I’m thinking, wondering about an offset of the slanted mountain town’s perfect mixture of Pagans and Yuppies, thinking neither is like the rabbits in Australia since they seem to have created a perfect ecology of economic trade; perhaps this is a capitalistic version of Santeria.

Sancho better run and hide if he knows what’s good for him, because daddy’s got a new .45!

She tells me how the slaves would pray to the Catholic idols. Little bobble-head figurines of The Virgin and other saints, I’m imagining, thinking that at the bottom level of a ship at sea, bobble-heads would really sway and look alive. They we’re actually praying to their own gods, she says (only Ms. International doesn’t say, gods, she says, Orishas). They used the Catholic saint figurines as disguises, she continues. So long as the Spanish crew thought they were praying to their completely non-fictional santos and not some make-believe Pagan gods, then they would permit the slaves their prayer.

This, to me, I say, is all religions. Rain soaked and bleeding together. A chimera bobble-head with the hair of its main swaying over its goat-like body and serpent tail. They all borrow images and ideas from one another. The town through the windshield. Silver screens and drive-ins. Christians in Australia — they took more than rabbits for game to hunt; they took the fucking Easter Bunny too. An entire ecosystem ruined.

Of course my ignorance of Voodoo makes me think about pinpricked dolls and headless chickens. And so now I have an image of Pinhead from Hell Raiser as a bobble-head dancing on my dashboard. Its head swings to Caribbean grooves that come from some white guy singing about sticking the barrel of his .45 straight down Sancho’s throat, like a needle in a cursed doll.

My silly thoughts do not hide my true interest though. I’m rather intrigued by this new knowledge, this history and philosophy and religion all meshed together: a syncretism — a new “–ism” in the confinement of my car. I want to keep Ms. International talking. Teaching me. Her knowledge is like wild hares escaping to Aboriginal planes.

I respectfully ask Ms. International if she believes in or practices any kind of sacrificial killings. A question logically in sync with my ignorance. I do in fact make offerings to certain Orishas, Ms. International says (only, I now know Orisha means god). Each Orisha requires specific offerings for specific blessings. An offering means you give something up and is very much a sacrifice in this way, but, she says, killing animals is done only by high ranking spiritual leaders — Santeros, Babalawo, and others in the hierarchy — those atop the food chai. And it’s only done in very rare occasions.

When you give something up, something is given in return, Ms. International says. And when you take away from others, something is taken from you. So taking the life of any creature carries great risk.

Now I’m thinking about American Indians saying thank-you prayers to a dying buffalo as they rip its heart out, then making use of every square inch of its body. This is Eucharist type-a-shit. To be at one with the Earth in this way. The universe. Buddhism comes to mind. Hippies. Yuppies. Hindus. Karma. Christ on the cross. It’s all watered down and drenched, bleeding together as one. And even though I don't admit it, I think about that Cosby girl, Lisa Bonet, in that movie Angel Heart, dancing around a camp fire in some Voodoo trance while strangling a headless chicken. And still, that fucking song, jingling away about Sancho stealing his girl. But now, this deep in the hole with Ms. International, I see that just as Sancho has taken, so shall he soon lose something - lost via the barrel of a .45 straight down his punk ass throat.

It all comes together in a way that makes sense. And I tell Ms. International one of my favorite quotes from Ralph Waldo Emerson: "Man recedes as fast on one side as he gains on another." Technology, I say, is a perfect example (though this comes from no place of wisdom on my part since Emerson uses the Geneva watch as an example in the essay this quote is from: "Self-Reliance"). Look at all the world around us and how it developed new and fascinating amenities; we can travel by car, plane, and boat, but we’ve lost the ability to walk great distances; we can send emails, text, and Twitter but we no longer speak verbally to one another. Man has a fine Geneva watch, Emerson says, but he can no longer tell time by the sun itself. And I’m thinking about the slanted town’s people, one half with hemp bracelets and the other half with Fossil watches. Neither can tell time by the sun. And with this and so many other similarities and offset relationships, both sides bleed together and become the same mess. I recognize truth in Emerson’s claim; I always have. I explain to Ms. International that I also believe the opposite to be true. Emerson says that through any gain, a loss naturally occurs; and so contrarily, I believe that through a loss, so too would a gain occur. A sacrifice. Whether given or taken. One and the same.

I realize that I myself do believe in sacrifices, Karma, Jesus on a stick, Pagan witches burning on a stake, bobble-head shish-kabobs. It’s all the same, I say to Ms. International. Hypnotized by the water on the windshield. Every inch of Christ's body was used like a buffalo, salvation for those still living, feeding off his remains. Flesh of my flesh. Here and now. Give and ye shall receive. Eye for an eye and all that shit. We are all Pagan Christian Santeriaist Voodoo Children of the Corncob Buddhists. All of us—floppy-eared mutant beasts offsetting ecologies because we have no known predators. Even Ms. International, as she sits in my car, changes me with new knowledge like wild hares on my plane head. It's what we hope education will do. Experience and awareness passed between us to bring us all together and make us one and the same. A mess. A collage. Watered down. And in this way, we are all soaked the same with Truth. All of us are like rabbits in Australia, something in a foreign land burrowing holes and multiplying, wreaking havoc where order resides, and destroying the natural habitat of ignorance.

[uprootedandroaming]

August 16-17: Yellowstoning in Two Parts

I

We've been in Yellowstone for the better part of 16 hours, but for as much as we've done today it feels like we've been here at least a week. Against the odds, we were able to distill at least two days worth of sight-seeing into less than 24 hours -- no small task for the biggest National Park in the nation, one that spans over 2-million acres.

Make no mistake about it: Yellowstone is enormous. So expansive, in fact, that it has road signs for other landmarks in the park, and those landmarks are sometimes upwards of 45 miles away. Yellowstone is its own entity, a silent, sprawling green-and-blue-and-brown giant singular in its rustic timelessness. Teddy Roosevelt was talking about Yellowstone (along with several other national parks) when he said "our people should see to it that they are preserved for their children and their children’s children, with their majestic beauty all unmarred.” His quotation rings through the generations: The park is a wild oasis mostly untouched by the meddling (and often pulverizing) hands of humankind.

Take our first day here, for instance. Within the first 12 hours, three bison came within two feet of our car, a grizzly bear loomed some 200 yards in front of us in a grassy valley near Dunraven Pass, a herd of at least 14 mountains goats crossed our path on the way down from Mount Washburn, and four elk grazed a mere stone's throw away in a field along the Yellowstone River. I don't know if this is a typical First Day in Yellowstone, but given the impressive prevalence of wildlife around seemingly every turn, I have a strong feeling it ain't out of the ordinary.

We saw a baby mountain goat suckling milk from its mother's utter, twenty feet in front of us, on Dunraven Pass.  At least 12 other dunky-eyed goats meandered around the same area, chewing grass and kicking up dirt on occasion. Caitlin and I walked warily past, knowing how aggressively protective mothers can be over their kin. The mother, as it turned out, gave us no lip, but a grizzled old wisegoat, seemingly the Respected Elder of the pack, huffed at me when I knelt down to take a picture of him gnawing on some greenery. The message was clear: move along, buddy, or get the horn.

A little further down the trail, within half a mile of the parking lot, we found a group of fellow hikers peering out over a grassy valley. What was it? A grizzly. He was 200 yards away at least, but with a pair of binoculars given to Caitlin from her Papa, we could see him rustling the vegetation and walking lazily over the landscape. Papa used those binoculars in the seventies, apparently. As much of an adrenaline rush it would be to see a rugged Grizzly up close and personal, I'm not sure I’d  to be in a situation where I could clearly see a 600-pound behemoth without the aid of 40-year-old binoculars.

The bison, I found, were surprisingly calm. It was also interesting to find them traveling alone. I always figured they traveled in packs, but what the hell do I know, anyway? One three occasions, traffic came to a standstill so a bison could lumber along the side of the road, looking like some lonesome hitchhiker with an alcohol problem, face hair shaggy and dirty and matted like Marley's dreadlocks. Warranted or not, these burly, beaten creatures elicit a guttural sense of sadness and despair. They're noble creatures, sure, but there's something undoubtedly weary and downtrodden about them. Perhaps their nobility is derived from that lonesome weariness.

I wish I could write more, but it's already 11:30, and I must be up a 5:30 tomorrow to enjoy the final day in Yellowstone. We did so much today that it seems like a fever dream. Here's a bite-size recap of our First Day:

- We listened to a family of Canadians (or Minnesotians? or North Dakotians?) crack jokes at Old Faithful about "a bunch of dumb people sitting around watching water come out of the ground" -- in a typically hilarious accident.

- We smelt the sulfur and felt the fine refreshing steam of the Grand Prismatic Spring, a hot bubbling cauldron 500-feet across colored in brilliant oranges and greens from microorganisms -- extremophiles, as they're called, organisms that live in temperatures once believed to be too hot to harbor life .

- We hiked a 6.2 mile loop, chock full of sweeping views of the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone and the Grand Teton, to a fire watch tower at the peak of Mt. Washburn -- 10,000 feet above sea level.

- We ended the day at Hayden Valley, relaxing atop a hill and gazing out across a rolling field that resembled something out of Super Mario World.

I don't know what awaits us tomorrow, but if involves more bison I'll have no reason to be disappointed.

II

We'd been lying lazily on a hill overlooking the Hayden Valley for at least two hours when the coyote first showed its face. It was white and gray, and from our vantage point, seated on this grassy hill with fellow tourists speaking German and Indian and various other languages, he was little more than a white dot bouncing through the grass and along the river front.

Thankfully Caitlin had purchased a pair of nice binoculars from a outfitting store in a village earlier in the day. So now, when viewed through the two lenses of this nifty contraption, the coyote looked like a significantly bigger patch of white -- we could at least make out his face, his body, his actions. He dug, perhaps for worms. He lifted his leg to pee twice and flung dirt on the urine with his front paws -- not out of shame, but as a matter of simple instinct.

He peered across the river at a deteriorating corpse on the opposite shore. Word rippled through the crowd earlier that evening about a trio of grizzlies who had descended upon the cadaver at dawn and tore at its meat and flesh. Through the binoculars, it now looked like nothing more than a bundle of jagged bones -- perhaps some skin, here and there. Not much of a meal left for anyone.

The Hayden Valley near sunset is surely one of the most still and serene places in Yellowstone. The valley, with its palette of browns and greens, pours itself in front of you, as far as the eye can see, in both directions. A river -- Yellowstone River -- flows lazily around an elbow and continues northward. In the far distance, maybe half-a-mile away, a dense forest of aspens veils unknown creatures. The whole scene is an arena, a stage, a stadium; the hill we lounge on is the grandstand, the tourists the fans. The wildlife, then, are the warriors, the actors, players. Are they conscious of our gaze? Do they know they're entertainment? If so, do they even care?

High-powered cameras and binoculars, some on tripods, direct their gaze toward the stage. With no tripod as a crutch, I raise the high-quality, fairly-priced novice binoculars to my eyes and

reacquaint myself with our friend, the prancing coyote. What has developed in his story?

A pair of whooping cranes appears in front of him, near the shoreline. The duo sees him. He's clearly interested, but he's been spotted; he is without clothes. Thus begins a slow-but-tense dance between our friend and the two cranes: the coyote creeps back and forth in front of them, perhaps attempting to hypnotize them with his sleepy motions. At intervals he moves a little closer. He's about 10-feet away from a potential dinner when the cranes whoop and spread wing, drifting to a safer distance, but still close enough to entice the coyote.

This memorizing waltz  repeats for 20 minutes or so, ending when the coyote realizes the futility of his efforts. He doesn't have a prayer without the element of surprise. Thus he goes back to the soggy dirt near the river and digs for (perhaps) more worms. These slippery, flaccid cylinders  may not as be as tender as sweet crane filet, but I suppose slippery cyclinders are better than an empty, rumbling tummy during a long, cold night. Eventually he trots northward down the riverbank and we lose sight of him.

Nature does not move swiftly. It takes patience. People grow anxious; we want things now. Sex and explosions. Touchdowns, text messages, frozen dinners, news, emails, SLAM DUNKS, stock reports; now, now, now, now, NOW! I'm on my back, using my backpack as a head rest. I cross my legs. Uncross them. I read a few lines out Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. Close the book, close my eyes. Open them. I grow restless. Nature, though, doesn't give a bison's ass about my impatience. It has no critics to impress. It doesn't always play to its audience. The show it puts on each night unfolds methodically, as though unwatched, like a baseball game or a piece of great art in the midst of creation.

The three bison grazing through the valley this evening are a prime example of time slowed to its measured, natural pace. They are impressive beasts, to be sure -- especially up close, with their dense fur and big, thick skulls -- but not particularly interesting to watch from a distance. They eat grass, walk a few yards ahead, lay down, eat some more grass, repeat. They're like your average beef cow, although much more physically foreboding. Plus, these gargantuans can be downright dangerous if provoked. Signs throughout the park note their docile nature, but caution that despite a seemingly mellow temperament, these beasts are wild, for heaven's sake, and can leap fences and run up to 35-miles per hour if hot and bothered. Please do not pet the wildlife.

The sun continued its nightly arch toward the horizon. There is an entire valley behind our backs, too, beautiful and flowing in its own right, though its not the main attraction; a minor stage. No one wants to battle a setting sun to search for a grizzly or a coyote when there is ample action going on right across the way, on the sun-and-shadow drenched Hayden. And here, indeed, comes the action: about an hour before dusk, someone spots a brown dot in the distant wood line. Bear or bison? A question asked perhaps millions of time through Yellowstone's 145-year history.

Bear, as it turned out. Big predator, an A-list celebrity: now it was game on. Would this woolly ball of dynamite mosey down to that bony unidentified corpse soaking in the water along the river's lip? Would he rip the rest of it to shreds, a majestic act of brutal beauty before our dumb, lusting eyes? Would our friend the coyote, who was heading toward the bear's jurisdiction, amble onto this hairy long-toothed ogre and inadvertently start some sort of...ruckus?

No, he wouldn't do any of that. Again, nature is indifferent; it is not here for your enjoyment, thank you very much. It will do as it does and that's that; no frills. The grizzly climbed down a small hill, rolled around in the grass for a bit, then continued his journey west, out of sight behind a patch of trees. Caitlin and I scooped up our belongings, bungled down the hill, hopped into the Prius: we had come all the way here, to the beautiful Hayden Valley in gorgeous Yellowstone. We weren't going to miss the chance to see the whites of a grizzly's eyes, despite my realization a day earlier that I had no desire to slip within a baseball's toss of a bear's presence.

The closest pullover we could find was at least half-a-mile from where a group of gazing lustful human pupils had gathered to catch sight of the grizzly. The sun had already laid itself to rest behind the western mountains, thus scant light remained. We were too far away to rediscover the bumbling grizzly. Was anything else out there? With nothing to lose, we pulled over, hoping to catch sight of something -- anything -- before we started the dark, hour-long journey back to our campsite near Lewis Lake.

We saw them right away: a herd of six elk, shrouded in patchy dusk, picking around at a plot of grass near a creek over 100 yards away. We parked the Prius -- the second car there -- and ran about 50 yards out onto a skinny trail on a hill. Within 10 minutes the hill was painted thick with 30-some tourists -- speaking in diverse tongues, pointing, watching. The elk. Yes, not A-list celebrities, but perhaps B, behind grizzlies and moose and other beasts rarely seen. Would they come closer, so us lonesome humans could make some sort of primal, ancient connection with them, animal-to-animal?

It was me who spotted it first, unless someone else had seen it and simply kept their wise trap shut. A bear, another grizzly, across a pond, walking north, toward the innocent herd of mulling elk. Ol' Yogi was a light brown haze at this point, the light all but gone, yet I saw him crawl along the waterfront and behind a patch of tall trees, just around the corner from those delicious elk. I lost sight of Yoge and never saw him again. Maybe he found a cozy spot of dirt and settled down for a quick late-late-afternoon nap. Maybe he needed a cigarette. Who knows?

Nothing in the group of passive elks' collective mannerisms showed they detected a predator in the area. They continued chewing cud, calm as ever. Yet before long they slipped into the water, swam across the river, walked up the adjacent stony embankment, and continued out onto a thin grassy peninsula. There were at least two baby elk in the bunch. Caitlin found this quite cute. It was 85-percent night by now, and the temperature was quickly dropping into the 40's, so we retraced our steps up the beaten trail and climbed into the warmth of the car.

We drove past those friendly elk on the road home. You could hardly see them through the gray-black semi-darkness, but they were there nonetheless, eating grass, snorting, and silently gauging  threats around them. They didn't seem to realize large groups of idiotic humans were staring at them through complicated devices that enlarged and clarified their furry features.  The damn elk wouldn't have done anything differently if they would have known. These are creatures, after all, not actors. Sometimes they deliver the drama, other times not, but in the end you're glad you had a rare chance to see them do anything at all, untamed brothers and sisters that they are.