#the pine forest in the nutcracker

[trashyswitch]

A Nostalgic Christmas Night

Clara and the Nutcracker are resting in the Pine Forest. When they're sitting there, Clara asks some questions about the Nutcracker's origins. Who is he? What was his family life like? When nostalgia becomes bitter, Clara is determined to turn that frown upside down.

This fanfic was suggested by @westerntails. I hope you thoroughly enjoy! And merry christmas one and all! I hope all your christmas dreams and wishes come true over the holiday season!

[FADE IN] 

[Clara and the Nutcracker are walking through the pine forest, enjoying the dancing snowflakes that were accompanying them on their journey.]

Clara: “Oh, Nutcracker…How long must it take to get to the land of sweets? My little legs are growing tired.” [She looks down at her legs.]  

Nutcracker: “My poor darling…” [Kneels down] “Do you need to rest?” 

Clara: “Yes, I do.”

Nutcracker: “Very well. Let us sit on the chocolate logs up here.”

Clara: “Thank you, sweet Nutcracker.”

[The Nutcracker and Clara sit down on a log stump. The log looks to be made of a chocolate Yule Log, similar to the classic christmas sponge cake.] 

Clara: “Thank you awfully. My little legs can only go very far. These slippers were not made for walking in this winter weather.” 

Nutcracker: “Ah, I had forgotten you are wearing simple slippers.” 

Clara: [smiles] “‘Tis no problem at all, dear Nutcracker.” 

Nutcracker: “My large boots have been built to withstand this snow.” 

Clara: “I see.” 

Nutcracker: “I suppose you did not plan to walk in this snow?” 

Clara: [Laughs] “I never could have planned a night such as this.” 

Nutcracker: “I suppose you are right. No one could possibly plan to experience being shrunk down to size and bombarded by gingerbread soldiers and evil mice.” 

Clara: [Laughs] “You could not be more correct! What a funny circumstance.” 

Nutcracker: [Laughs] 

[The Nutcracker and Clara go silent for a moment.] 

Clara: “Oh Nutcracker?” 

Nutcracker: “Yes, my dear?” 

Clara: “Who were you before you had turned into a nutcracker?” 

Nutcracker: “Well…” [shuffles feet] “Before I was the leader of the gingerbread soldiers, I was a boy just like you.” 

Clara: [Tilts head] “Really?” 

Nutcracker: “I had grown up like most children like yourself. The food was plentiful and I had many toys.” 

Clara: [Looks at Nutcracker] “Did you have wonderful parents?” 

Nutcracker: “Well…No. I was raised by my uncle. I used to work alongside him, until the mouse queen had cursed me.” 

Clara: “If I may ask, who was your uncle?” 

Nutcracker: [looks at her] “...Drosselmeyer.” 

Clara: [gasps] “Drosselmeyer?” 

Nutcracker: “You know of Mr. Drosselmeyer?” 

Clara: “Yes, I do. He is my godfather.” 

Nutcracker: [Smiles] “That is wonderful.” 

Clara: [Smiles] “Drosselmeyer has known me since I was an infant. He is a charitable, jolly man.”

Nutcracker: “Oho, you fail to mention ‘mischievous’.” 

Clara: “Mischievous?” [She tilts her head.] 

Nutcracker: “Ah, I sense you have not seen that side of Drosselmeyer.” 

Clara: [scoots closer] “Do tell, dear Nutcracker.” 

Nutcracker: “I would love nothing more.” [He adjusts himself.] “As a young child, my uncle used to make the toys dance and roll around the house. It was wonderful to see, and it made my child oh so magical.” 

Clara: [Listens intently] 

Nutcracker: “My Uncle would make the wooden cars and the airplanes chase me around the house. He would make the building blocks move around as I played with them. The wooden animals would make noises to teach me the sounds of the animals.” 

Clara: “That’s so sweet. Uncle Drosselmeyer made the dolls dance before you were given to me as a gift.”

Nutcracker: “I see…I suppose my uncle is still making the toys play.” 

Clara: “He is.” 

Nutcracker: [Sits up] “One of my favorite things he would do…He would make his woodworking tools come to life. The carvers would carve, the saws would saw, the sandpaper would smooth out the wood and the brushes would remove the dust.” 

Clara: “That’s sweet.” 

Nutcracker: “Often, my uncle would catch me sneaking around his workshop. If he noticed me, Uncle Drosselmeyer would send one of the flying dust brushes after me and tickle me senselessly.” 

Clara: [Laughs] “That’s funny.” 

Nutcracker: “Those brushes were atrocious. The mischief…It lasted for ages.” [He sighs.] “I miss my mischievous uncle.” 

[The Nutcracker lowers his head with sadness. Seeing his sadness, Clara places a hand onto his shoulder.] 

Clara: “Oh Nutcracker…Please do not cry.” 

Nutcracker: “Oh, I would cry if I could.” 

Clara: “Oh…please. It will be okay. I…” [She pauses] “I will let Drosselmeyer know you are thinking of him.” 

Nutcracker: “Oh…You will?” 

Clara: “Of course I will! I would love to.” 

Nutcracker: [Smiles] “Thank you, Clara.” 

Clara: “You’re welcome.” 

Nutcracker: “It is very nice of you to pass on my message…” [Sighs] “However…I still miss him.” 

Clara: “I know…I miss him too.” 

Nutcracker: [sighs] I would do anything to experience those childhood memories again…” 

Clara: “Oh…” [She places a hand onto his shoulder] “It will be okay.” 

[The Nutcracker goes silent.] 

Clara: [thinks for a moment, and raises her finger as an idea enters her name] “Maybe I can help you?” 

Nutcracker: [Looks at Clara] “I beg your pardon?” 

Clara: “I could help you experience those childhood memories again.” 

Nutcracker: [Smiles] Oh Clara…I would love that…” [Looks away] “But how?” 

Clara: [looks down at her hands, before reaching out and grabbing his sides] “Like this!” 

Nutcracker: [Jumps and yelps] “Ah! What in the world?” 

Clara: [tickles him] “Tickle tickle!” 

Nutcracker: [Yelps] “Now hold on-” [starts laughing] “Oh goodness!” 

Clara: [Smiles] “I see you are still ticklish, Mr. Nutcracker?” 

Nutcracker: [Laughs] “I-I guess so!” [tries to leave the log] “Clara, please!” 

Clara: “Yes, Nutcracker?” [grabs his shirt] 

Nutcracker: [Gasps] “Uh oh…” 

[Clara pulls the Nutcracker down to the log, making him sit and lay on his back. His head rests on her lap.] 

Nutcracker: “Clara?” 

Clara: “Nutcracker.” [She starts tickling his belly.] 

Nutcracker: “No! [Laughs] “Clara! Oh goodness!” 

Clara: “This is so wonderful! You are so ticklish, Nutcracker!” 

Nutcracker: [Laughs] “I-I know!” [Laughs] “Th-Thanks for reminding me!” 

Clara: [Laughs] “My pleasure.” [winks] 

[The Nutcracker’s laughter continues as the dancing snowflakes fill the room, and the music starts playing. The snowflakes enter from all corners of the stage, continuing their previous routine from Act 1.] 

Nutcracker: “S-Snowflakes!” [Reaches out to the left] “Help me!” 

Snowflake 1: “No way!” 

Snowflake 2: “Sorry, Nutcracker~” 

Nutcracker: [Reaches out to the right] “Help!” [Pulls arm back as Clara tickles his armpit] 

Snowflake 3: “We can’t!” 

Snowflake 4: “We’re just snowflakes.” 

Snowflake 5: “You’ll have to get out yourself.” 

[The snowflakes start to dance off stage left, leaving Clara and Nutcracker alone.] 

Clara: “Oh Nutcracker~ Are you having fun?” 

Nutcracker: [Is wiggling around and trying to hide his belly.] “Y-Yes, but-”

Clara: “But what?” 

Nutcracker: [laughs] “This is too much!” 

Clara: “Oh, surely it is not. I have only tickled you for a few moments!” 

Nutcracker: “Oh Clara, please!” [laughs]

Clara: “Please what, dear Nutcracker?” 

Nutcracker: “A break!” [holds stomach] “I need a break!” 

Clara: “Oh dear!” [Stops tickling] “I am so sorry. I didn’t tickle you too much, did I?” 

Nutcracker: [Shakes head] “No no no. Do not worry, Clara.” 

Clara: “Thank goodness.” 

Nutcracker: “Because…” [Grabs Clara] “I’ve got you now!” [Tickles Clara’s belly] 

Clara: [Laughs] “Hey!” 

Nutcracker: “Now it’s your turn to be tickled, you silly goose.” 

Clara: “Nutcracker, no!” [Laughs] 

Nutcracker: “Oh, looks like the tickle monster is ticklish herself! What wonderful news!” 

Clara: [Laughs] “Nooo! No fair!” 

Nutcracker: “Poor Clara…” [tickles her armpits] “Don’t you know the classic words “As you sow, so shall you reap”?” 

Clara: “Noo!” [Falls back and Laughs] “You are cruel!” [Laughs and giggles] 

Nutcracker: “What a rude thing to say! I just might have to tickle you for that!” 

Clara: “No!” [Laughs and wiggles around] 

Nutcracker: “I wonder if these ribs are ticklish…” [Starts tickling Clara’s ribs] 

Clara: “NO!” [laughs and kicks feet] “Not the ribs!

Nutcracker: “And why’s that? Is it…ticklish?” 

Clara: [Shakes head] “STOP IT!” [Laughs] “Too much!” 

Nutcracker: “Ah, is it becoming too much for you?” 

Clara: [nods head while laughing] 

Nutcracker: “Very well. I shall stop for the moment.” 

Clara: [leans back with heavy breathing] 

Nutcracker: “Are you alright?” 

Clara: “Oh Nutcracker…” [giggles] “That was exciting.” 

Nutcracker: “Hm…You know what?” [Smiles and nods his head.] “I agree. That was fun.” 

Clara: “My legs are feeling a little better. Shall we proceed to the lang of candy?” 

Nutcracker: “Of course.” [Gets up] “And Clara…” 

Clara: “Yes?” [Gets up] 

Nutcracker: “It is called the land of sweets.” 

Clara: “Oh, my apologies. The land of sweets. Or as my family would say, ‘Страна сладостей’.” [winks]

[FADE OUT] 

[reneserranorodriguez07]

Winter Forest * TBOEM20240614 (SOLD) Mixed media / Canvas 188 X 100 centimeters 74 X 39 Inches 2024

[chronically-ghosted]

Have Yourself a Moreno Little Christmas

rating: T

pairing: marcus moreno x f!reader

word count: 6K

summary: when the Morenos' happy Christmas is in jeopardy, you think quick and invite them on a trip to an old family tradition. If he’s grateful, would it be safe to tell him how you feel? But why do you think he might already know? What if he feels the same way?

warnings: heavily influenced by the movie While You Were Sleeping, your typical amount of angst for a romcom, mutual pining, ballet in the park, a moody pre-teen, brief discussions of losing a loved one (parent/partner), bad dad jokes, canoodling in the park, one steamy kiss and a few other softer ones

a/n: Happy Secret Santa @noisynaia! You had Marcus M as your number one Pedro boy of choice, and given that I’d never written for him before, I wanted to do something wholesome and sweet in the world of super heroes. The Nutcracker has always been near and dear to me so I hope you like this take on it! @pedrostories

This will be my last fic of 2023 so - much love, stay warm, and happy holidays! 🤍Masterlist

What do you get a man who has everything for Christmas? A tie? A money clip? Something aggressively manly that smells like woodsmoke, patchouli oil, and the raw sweat of a lumberjack after felling a thousand forests?

What do you get a superhero for Christmas? Indestructible tights? A decorative plaque for his swords? A life-time supply of gauze and iodine? 

What do you get for your boss, superpowered and single, with the ability to turn a paperclip into a rose? A silver ball into a flat pancake? Decorative swords into deadly weapons? What do you get him that is even remotely useful or exciting or heartwarming when he is so busy with being a single father and mentor, a symbol and an icon, all while running the world’s foremost superhero operation? 

Somehow, “world’s best boss” mug feels rather . . . subpar. 

What do you get him if he’s become one of your closest friends? When you try to wiggle some sort of information out of him about a potential gift on one of the many long nights where you’re stuck together doing paperwork for the UN and the NSA – but he is annoyingly vague. 

His daughter – a fiery mix of headstrong and thoughtful, soothed by a loving kindness that clearly runs in the family – is no help. She teases you with promises “oh yeah, definitely get him a new spatula” when you both know the man has never been anywhere near a BBQ grill. You give her the rest of the Reeses that didn’t make it into the community candy bowl anyway. 

You can’t ask for ideas from his mother, or his teammates, the security guards at the headquarter doors, anyone with eyes (who’s not ten years old) because then they’ll know, you sure of it. They’ll see and that’s just not something you can ever, ever, ever bring up because . . . 

What do you get for a man who is your boss, a superhero, a leader, a father, your boss, a very close friend, your boss, someone you very much admire . . . and as a result, have fallen deeply, painfully, achingly in love with?

Your still beating heart on a silver platter seems like the obvious choice. A bowl of your tears for unrequited love is a definitely strong second option. A lock of your hair so the FBI can easily identify you as his certifiably insane stalker – there we go, brilliant idea. 

A kiss under the mistletoe? A promise for more? 

That damned mug is looking better and better every day.

You knock three times, then one more before opening the door. Behind unnecessarily thick glasses, Marcus glances up, life returning to his face when his eyes fall on you.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but the president of Belize is on line one for you.” 

The man with sticky, molded blonde hair sitting across from Marcus turns around and smiles. His teeth are freakishly white, all stacked together in tight, proper rows. His suit, freshly pressed and clean of any evidence of interaction with the world, carries a giant button on the lapel: Vote Tine!

“President of Belize, my, my, Mr. Moreno, you are a busy man!”

Marcus stands, his gaze peeling off you to the politician in front of him. “Mr. Tine, I apologize, but I have to cut this meeting short–,”

“Ah, it’s no trouble at all!” He stands, batting his hand through the air. “Just as long as we’ll see you at the next rally, right, Marcus?” 

He holds out a perfectly square hand and with a tight-lipped grin, Marcus shakes Tine’s hand. 

“We’ll see, Senator.”

“Wonderful, wonderful, alright, I’ll get out of your hair. Mr. Moreno . . .” he bows slightly before turning in the direction of the door. You catch a glimpse of him the instant the smarmy smile slides off his face as, with wolf-ish eyes, he evaluates you from your ankles to the candy-cane broach on your chest. You don’t smile as you shut the door after him – as if you’d be bothered by greasy politicians and their wandering eyes. 

Marcus all but slumps back in his chair before taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes with his palms.

“Every time election season comes around, they all want the Heroics’ vote. Until Miracle Guy chucks Dr. Evil through the Empire State Building and suddenly it’s ‘we need these vigilantes off our streets’ . . .” He shakes his head and slips his glasses back on, watching as you take the vacated seat. “Sorry, none of this is your problem. What does the president of Belize want?”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” you say, tapping the corner of your pad with your stylus, “his slogan sucks. Justine Tine – just in time. I’m not unconvinced he didn’t change his name for the sake of a cheesy one-liner.” 

A small smile cracks open the dreary look on Marcus’s face. His eyes flicker to the door. “Seems like the type, doesn’t he? I think you’re onto something.” 

“So that’s item one, for the day.” You stand, curling your pad into your arms, you lean on Marcus’s desk, knee against the edge. 

He stares intently at your face. 

“Number two, I just checked our records and there’s no Dr. Evil anywhere in our data banks. The Empire State building is safe, for now, so you can stop worrying about that.” 

You mime-checking off something on your pad and the grin on Marcus’s face softens. 

“And number three . . .” you pick up the phone on his desk, that suspiciously doesn’t have any blinking red lights. Marcus frowns, noticing this for the first time, when you lift up the receiver and drop it down. His mouth parts.

“Belize has a monarchy. A king, not a president.” 

The frown deepens. You wait. And light parts the sky. 

“Oh. Oh – you didn’t – that’s – really?”

His eyes are round, wide, relieved, and you want nothing more than to run your hands through those curls. To rub those broad shoulders loose of their tension. But rearranging meetings and make up fake world leaders to give him a break is the best you can do. 

“Yes, really. The Heroics are prepared to make a sizable donation to Tine’s cause, and he will thank us at his next rally. So, Mr. Moreno, your next meeting isn’t for another hour, how would you like to spend it?” You smile, tapping your hanging shoe on the ball of your foot. “I suggest using it to eat something. Have you eaten anything today?” 

Marcus sighs, eyes falling shut for just a moment. “What, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, would I do without you?�� 

You avert your eyes before the heat in your cheeks climbs too high, his eyes on you, and you hop off his desk. 

“Would you, hmm,” you clear your throat, your voice cracking in half, “would you like me to order something and have it delivered, Mr. Moreno?” 

He’s chewing on the skin below his lip when you raise your head from the pad in your arms. Being indestructible is one thing; having his face entirely inscrutable is one of Marcus’s most impressive superpowers. He nods, the look of distant contemplation gone. He flips through a few of the notes you’ve left him on his desk – calls to return, items for next week, reports he needs to sign: busy work. 

“Yeah, uh, that’s great. Pick something up for yourself too.” 

The mood has soured and you’re not quite sure how or why it happened. A second ago Marcus looked like he was going to pick you up and twirl you around the room. Now, he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You nervously tap your stylus against your pad. 

“Yes, Mr. Moreno.” 

You turn to go, his head down, his gaze fixated on whatever isn’t you, when he calls out your name again.

“Oh, um, did you manage to get anything out of Missy abour what she wants for Christmas when she was here last Friday?” 

You pause, remembering the uncharacteristically morose girl spinning listlessly in your chair while you watched from the break room as the hot cocoa warmed up in the microwave. You’d never seen so much as a pout on the girl before and no matter what you did, she didn’t crack a single smile.

“No, she didn’t tell me anything, but . . .” Now this is the part of your job that you loathe the most: trying to figure out the line. You saw Marcus as a friend, absolutely, but it’s not like you went and played volleyball on the beach with him, or went bar-hopping, or whatever it is adults with friends do. You love Missy more than you thought you could ever care about a child who isn’t your own, but you wavered how much to press her on her mood, because how did she see you? Nothing more than her father’s employee, most likely. In the end, you ended up getting one word answers from her until Marcus left his office thirty minutes later. 

But here you go, overstepping boundaries . . .

“Mr. Moreno, is she alright? The last time she was here, she seemed . . . I don’t know, sad?”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, his eyes sharpened. You opened your mouth to profusely apologize when –

“Fuck.” Marcus tosses his glasses onto his desk and buries his head in his hands. The instinct to put your arms around him is so strong you take a step forward before you remember exactly who you are. 

How do you comfort the man you love when you shouldn’t love him at all? How do you comfort a superhero, when he’s a father first and human second?

Keeping the desk firmly between you, you drop your pad onto one of the chairs and as slowly as you dare, you touch his forearm. He leans, not away, but towards you. He lowers his arms as you keep your touch on him. You squeeze once, looking down at his hopeless expression. 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen with Missy?”

Marcus shifts his arm beneath your fingers, his fingers twitching, as if he wants to take your hand but instead puts his other hand over yours.

“This Christmas has just been really hard.” 

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them: “tell me.”

He looks up at you, eyes warm and wide in a way that only his can. Indestructible in the face of evil, inscrutable with his secrets, Marcus’s greatest weakness is Missy, and he knows it. You know you’re crossing a dozen professional lines leaning over him like you are, touching him like you are, asking him to open up. But you don’t care.

He presses his lips together, hesitant. He won’t look you in the eye. “You have to understand something first. Missy’s mom loved Christmas.”

His hand over yours tightens gently as if he thinks you’re going to pull away. You hadn’t considered it but your palm went a little damp at the mention of her. 

Oh God, you’ve so played your hand wrong.

Marcus inhales, his gaze on your knuckles. “Isabel, that was her name, and every year Isabel made Christmas this big event. And every Christmas she bought Missy a little nutcracker. Missy was barely out of diapers at the time, I don’t think she even knew what they were, but she loved them. Thought they were the funniest things with their teeth and stuffy white hair . . . but he other day, going through the decoration box, Missy found them all and I guess she suddenly remembered all those Christmases with her mom and she, uh . . .” 

He taps your wrist with his thumb, a tell he has when he’s nervous. The seat squeaks slightly as he adjusts himself in it.

“I haven’t been putting out the nutcrackers that Isabel gave Missy. The Christmas after she died, I couldn’t bring myself to put out any sort of real decorations, except for the tree. Missy was so young, I don’t think she cared. But as she got older, she never asked about the nutcrackers so I hoped she just . . . forgot about them. And she did, until she found them last Friday.”

“Last Friday?” You feel like you’ve been sucking on cotton. “Before she came to the office?”

Marcus nods. 

“Oh, M-Mar-Mr. Moreno, I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.” 

“She was furious that I tried to hide something of her mother’s from her. And she’s right. I was a coward.” 

This move is an intentional one. You slip your hand out from his and cup his fingers around yours, as if guiding him. He finally looks up at you, guilt and shame and grief streaking his face like blurry rain against a window pane. 

“You are the bravest man I know, Marcus Moreno. You’re a superhero and a single father. Most people can barely handle one. She’ll come around, I promise.” 

You swallow the urge to bring his knuckles to your lips, and instead squeeze both of his hands and let go. You slide away from the desk, your heart tight in your chest when his thumbs pass over the palm of your hand. The look on his face is disappointed, you want to believe.

“Thank you. For listening and, uh, everything else. You’re right. I’ll just . . . well, I don’t know what I’ll do but I’ll figure something out.” He leans back, elbows on the chair’s handles. Marcus Moreno, or what you know of him, doesn’t like to dwell, so you watch some of the heaviness shift from his eyes the moment he decides to change the subject. “What are you doing for Christmas? Are you staying in town? Going to see family – or a boyfriend?”

The warm in your chest, lingering from his hands, suddenly bolts across your face. “No, no, um, no, there’s no one –,” Would it be pathetic if you fanned yourself with your pad? God, how does the man work in here for hours with no fresh air? “No, I’m not going home to anyone but I am . . .”

And suddenly there it is. A solution to your Christmas present debacle and maybe a way to save Christmas for Missy Moreno.

You shake your head, beating back the rising heat in your cheeks. “Actually, are you and Missy doing anything this weekend?”

Marcus seems taken aback from this sudden turn in the conversation.

“Um, no. I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

“If you’ll let me, I’d like to show you and Missy something really, really special.” 

You swear the tips of his ears go pink. “Uh, okay. Sure. I-I’ll have to clear it with Missy, but yeah, alright. What time?”

“I’ll put it in your calendar.” You smile and slip your stylus back into your pad. “Have a nice lunch, Mr. Moreno.” 

He shakes his head and scratches the back of his neck as you head for the door. 

“How many times do I have to ask you to call me, Marcus? 

You pause with your handle on the door. “At least once more, Mr. Moreno.”

The mug drops to last place.

Good news. 

If you’re ever stranded on a desert island, you’ll survive because you are already intimately familiar with the taste of your own foot in your mouth.

Why did you open with “Hey Missy, your dad tells me you’ve been having a rough Christmas?” to a sullen, grieving pre-teen? 

And can time actually go slower, when the air is so stifled with tension? When you’re absolutely sure you’re breathing too loud?

You’ve been glancing at Missy in the rear view mirror for the dozenth time in twice as many miles. Her face is turned towards the window so you can’t actually see the murderous rage in her eyes, but oh wow do you feel it. Nevermind superpowers, this little girl could char you to a crisp with her eyes alone. Potential step-mom failure award goes to . . . 

“So.” Marcus clears his throat and you tear your eyes back from the back of his daughter’s head. The fraught silence of the car stretches just long enough after Marcus’s statement to grate ever so gently – “um, how do you, uh, know about this place? Wherever, we’re going.” 

You bite the corner of your mouth. Marcus doesn’t appear angry that you’ve soured the mood with Missy before the drive even began. In fact, he looks genuinely curious, the light in his eyes bright. If it weren’t for that single line between his brows, you assume nothing is wrong, but you know that almost frown. Marcus is anxious. 

Great. 

You settle back in your seat, trying to look as relaxed as you can in a pillowy jacket, your hat and gloves in Marcus’s lap, along with his own. The snow outside stopped falling only a few minutes ago, lining the trees and road with a crisp sparkling white. If anything, it ended up being a beautiful day. 

You flex your hand around the steering wheel, trying to summon courage up through your body like your lungs inhale air. 

“It’s an old family tradition, actually. My folks would take us out here every year to watch . . . to watch the show.” You glance at him briefly before checking to see if that piqued anything from the roiling black cloud in the back. It didn’t. You hadn’t told either one of the Morenos your plans for this Christmas day. “But I haven’t been back in a while.”

“Why not? And please don’t say it's because of work.” The lilt in his voice has you looking at him, long enough to watch a small smile uncurl. You really thought it was impossible for Marcus Moreno to get any cuter, but with his woolen floppy cap covering his ears and the little white bob at the end fluttering in the warm heater air, you force yourself to remember you’re driving a 3000 pound metal death machine if you stare, starry-eyed, for too long. 

“No, it’s not because of work,” you grin back and his own crosses completely across his mouth. “It’s not work related . . . but um, after my parents passed away, my brother and sister moved across the country.” Your hands crinkle around the steering wheel. “I’ve spent most of my Christmas’s alone ever since. Coming here without them, i-it felt . . . wrong.”

In the rear view mirror, you think you see her move.

“That’s terrible. I’m sorry.” The weight of Marcus’s gaze, his own planetary gravitational pull, has your nose drawing down then over. He looks genuinely regretful of your situation and you’re suddenly hit with the understanding that not only did Missy lose a mother, but Marcus lost a wife. 

Hell, maybe you can just continue up the bone and eat your whole leg while you’re at it. 

“Mhm hmm.”

The rest of the car right goes on in silence, except for the faint, ghost-like christmas carols playing from the speakers through your phone. 

When you pull off the dirt road and park your car in the cold grass with dozens of other vehicles, you can’t unbuckle fast enough. The patches of icy dead grass snap beneath your boots as you climb out of the car, and you’re struck in the face with a chilly wind. 

The words are on your tongue as you look at him over the hood of the car, the breeze snagging the little puff ball on the end of his cap, his glasses already misting over.

I’m so sorry, Marcus, this was such a bad idea. 

I don’t know how to talk about my grief or anyone else's and it’s been drowning me for years but I don’t want to pull you down with me. 

I’ll drive you anywhere you want I’m so– 

“Is this the Stanley Amphitheater?” Marcus takes off his glasses and rubs the condensation away. “This is where they have that jazz festival every summer, right?”

You’re so surprised by his tone that all you can do is blurt out: “yes.”

“So cool! I’ve actually been dying to check this place out!”

“Y-yeah?”

He smiles at you and you have to grab onto the door frame to keep your knees from buckling. 

“C’mon, Missy.” 

Tugging his hat further over his head, Marcus lopes forward and then he turns and reaches out for his daughter. The moment arcs, Missy’s stone faced glare demanding that he drop his hand, that he turn away from her, an inch away from leaving a mark that aches in a way that only a loving parent can feel from their loved child –

And she takes his hand. 

You watch them follow the crowd, blanket in hand, just a few steps behind them, and you breathe out.

Across the stone amphitheater, a low murmur of dozens of eager voices vibrate in the dugout cup of the earth. Children squirm with anticipation in their parents’ laps, couples share lingering gazes over steaming styrofoam cups of hot chocolate, an air of excitement and delight hovering between chapped lips and knitted gloves as the sun arcs lower in the sky. Just in front of the large stage, a live orchestra prepares, discordant cords breaking and rising like smoke. 

A man in a striped hat sells buttery popcorn and sweet, crunchy kettle corn in a small wooden hut a distance from the theater. A few families wait in line, children teasing one another behind their parents, their laughter light on the breezy air. 

“So, what is this?” Your head whips around at Missy’s first sentence all day. Marcus looks at you equally stunned. The blanket you’ve spread across three laps keeps you intentionally close so you have to lean back slightly to see her face.

“It’s, um–,”

“Missy, do you like ballet?” You ask

Beneath her maroon hat, her eyes lift up, her back straightening from its hunch. You wouldn’t call her look eager, but you cannot deny there’s interest. 

She nods. 

“Well, what we’re about to see is a very special ballet performance. Some people who have powers like your dad, they don’t go into crime fighting. Instead, they use their powers to make art.” 

She blinks, eyes widening. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” 

The fringe smile is hidden by a curtain of hair as Missy tilts her head down to her shoes, nodding. Marcus glances at you over the wool of her hat, surprise thinning the lines around his eyes.

“It’s getting kind of cold,” he says slowly, to no one in particular. “Anyone want some hot chocolate?”

“I do,” you wave. Missy nods, grumbling. 

Marcus waves over a woman in a striped hat as she wanders through the crowd. The metal box, hanging around her neck and strapped to her back reads, refreshments. 

He pays for three styrofoam cups just as the lights in the back of the amphitheater flicker and the orchestra winds down to silence. 

Despite the burgeoning chill in the air, and despite the grief dividing yet binding the three of you, and despite the fact that this may be your one chance for Marcus to see you as anything other than his assistant, you’re hopeful. Maybe it’s the music itself, that way that music has to ignite your soul when you need it the most, or maybe it’s the spirit of the season, but for the first time in a long, long time, you don’t feel so lonely. In fact, you can’t remember a time you’ve felt more connected than you do with the people next to you. 

Missy’s eyes are bright, flitting around the stage as if determined to not miss a single thing, the cocoa in her hands leaving a dark rim around her mouth that she is blissfully ignorant of. That already full feeling in your chest expands and you want nothing more than to hug her, hug her till she’s warm and hug her till she’s happy. Behind her, her father moves and it catches your eye.

Marcus has never looked at you before the way he is now. Inscrutable, undefined, but it packs such a punch in your chest it feels like you gulped down your entire cup of hot chocolate in one go. You turn away, fearful of what he might see in your eyes, and realize the enormity of what you feel, how it’s all consuming and tugs at you when you least expect it. 

The music begins to swell just as the sun sets and the lights at the rim of the theater fade. You take a shaky inhale – nerves and excitement and memories good and bad weighing on your shoulders. 

And then it begins to snow. 

But not from the sky and it’s not yet cold enough for the consistent sprinkle. Snowflakes tangle with your eyelashes, in the wool of your cap. Then Missy gasps as a translucent ice crystal the size of her palm trickles down into her lap. Glinting like glass, the intricate design of the crystal flashes once before disappearing – not melting – just gone. Around you, other children hold out, giggling their hands as more beautiful flakes of enormous size flutter down from the inexplicable snow drift. A few adults reach out to grab some that burst like bubbles, a wondrous awe crescendoing across the crowd. 

From the wings of the stage, a man and a woman, dressed in beautiful light blues and silvers, silks glittering with inset shimmering stones, walk across the stage, their arms moving slowly, thoughtfully. 

In sync, they coax the air and the snow follows in a dance of white. Delighted shouts rise up as the snow and ice spin together, arcing and weaving, capturing the essence of a winter wind. The pair on stage bend, their hands flung backwards in a bow and the ball of snow shatters in an icy solar flare, the million white flakes fluttering over the crowd. 

Out of the exhilarated murmur that overtakes the crowd, one noise stands out above the rest. 

Missy laughs. She laughs as she watches a snowflake melt on the end of her nose. 

You wish desperately you could squeeze her to you.

The crowd applauds the snow dancers, bowing again before exiting the stage, as a woman in black steps out. Her short-cropped hair is nearly as white as the snow still melting on the ground and her eyes are crinkled at the edges. When she speaks, her voice booms without the aid of a mic. 

“Thank you and welcome to another annual Stanley Kirby production of The Nutcracker.”

Missy’s smile doesn’t fall from her face. In fact it widens. Your heart is pounding in your chest, as you watch her from the corner of your eye.

“I’ve been directing this play for twenty years now and I can honestly say I find something new and beautiful about it every time. Winter is often seen as the end stage, symbolized through literature and poetry as the time when we humans grow old. But I like to think that doesn’t always have to be true. Spirit, however you like to think of it, is exactly that: an endurance, a bravery, a force greater than ourselves that we can either embrace or let slide through our fingers. We hope you leave today with a little bit more spirit in you. Thank you for coming and we hope you enjoy the show.” 

She bows as two men enter in from the wings, these dressed in brown and green, the crowd clapping for both the director and the new players. 

A little girl, in ballet shoes and a pink dress with ruffles, her hair down to her back and tied out of her face with a bow, joins them on the stage and sits down in the center as the heavy velvet curtains pull back to reveal a backdrop imitating a hallway. With a large door, two round, gilded mirrors and a single chair. 

The orchestra begins, the dancers lifting their hands with a wave of a conductor. 

Shadows flicker at the back of the theater, eliciting shocked, almost horrified gasps from the crowd. But you know what’s coming. You don’t turn around. You smile.

Beside you both Missy and Marcus stare, mouths open, as eleven foot tall wooden nutcrackers amble down the stone steps between the seats, their knees stocky, their weight uneven as they march towards the stage. Their giant mouths creak and groan as the switch on their backs moves without any visible force. The green and red paint shines in the lights from the stage, their silver buttons glowing like stars. The dancers in brown coax them closer with a curl of their fingers and a bend in their arms. They begin to sway and spin across the stage, their legs outstretched and their feet curved into satin shoes, the little girl paying them no mind. Instead, she gets on her knees and waves to the marching soldiers.

More awed gasps as now teddy bears then porcelain dolls, the size of elephants, follow the nutcrackers down the steps, the orchestra keeping time and building a sense of whimsy and joy. The little girl bounds to the edge of the stage as the first wave of soldiers approaches. With a kiss from her hand into the wind, the first nutcracker freezes and then shrinks, the dancer behind the girl flicking his wrist. The crowd hums with delight as the nutcracker, now the size of a toy, floats next to the chair. One by one, the little girl greets the marching toys just before they shrink and find a place next to the chair. 

With the last doll fluttering in the wind as it settles, the little girl spins and twirls until she drops into the chair and seemingly to sleep.

The crowd roars with joy, a thunderous applause swelling in the amphitheater. 

But, best of all, Missy is on her feet, cheering and clapping. Her face glows in the light of the stage, her eyes bright and hopeful, her cheeks pink and chapped. In the shadows that flicker of people moving and applauding, beyond Missy’s curly hair, Marcus stares at you in a way that makes your heart grow bigger with every beat, his own silent music swelling the cage of your ribs. 

He reaches out his hand for you and you take it. 

He keeps holding you long after Missy sits down and the ballet continues.

A nearby park has set up Christmas lights in the trees and on the pathway. Missy, after promising to stay close, has gone and disappeared in the dark, off playing with a few of the other children who stayed after the show was over. 

Families sit on benches under covered awnings, the dark night cold but not encroaching, a food truck selling churros and Mexican hot chocolate mystifying the chilly air into white puffs as they serve eager mouths and cold hands. 

You walk the lighted path with Marcus, your arm tucked up around his. 

The sounds of children laughing fill the comfortable silence between you two. 

“This is going to be embarrassingly underwhelming,” he says quietly, the warmth of his body enough to keep a shiver at bay. “But thank you. That was incredible. I mean, I’ve seen The Nutcracker before, but this . . .”

He trails off, shaking his head, awe curling his mouth open.

“It’s pretty fantastic, right?” You smile up at him and squeeze his arm. 

He closes his mouth just as his eyebrows jump.

“Kinda makes me wonder if I picked the wrong profession, if other people are using their powers like that.” 

You chuckle lowly. “Ha, as if there’s anything you could be except a superhero.” 

“What do you mean?” The tone in his voice makes you pause. Just around the curve of the path, you’re hidden by silver-dripped trees and frost-covered shrubs. No children run here and the lights on the path are muffled by the overgrowth.

His eyes are dark when you look into them, but dark in the way under the covers of your parents bed is dark, or the dark in your friend’s mouths when they’re torn open with laughter. Dark in a way that holds and comforts and sinks deep. White mist puffs from his chapped lips, nose pink and cold. The lint from his scarf has stuck to the base of his neck. 

“You have to save people. It’s who you are. I don’t believe for a second there’s any part of you that could sit by and watch terrible things happen to good people. Your powers don’t change that.” You swallow, fingering the snaps on his coat as you stand face to face, the decision to say the words on your tongue nearly splitting you apart. “You saved me. If that counts for anything. You saved me from being alone on another really shitty Christmas and I–,”

The soft but determined press of his lips against yours brings silence to the grove, your words dissipating into the air like snowflakes. The whole of the world narrows down to the sensation of his mouth on yours; you forget the cold, the chilly burn on your cheeks, the sweat on your hairline where your woolen cap sits. You forget the sound of people in the distance, forget the lights in the darkness. He kisses like he works, methodically, confidently, and with intention.

His well-kept mustache tickles your nose, his lips a little torn from the cold, but the heat of his mouth warms you to your core. He holds you, his scratchy mitten against your cheek, the rest of him staying perfectly still, letting you savor his touch, commit the shape of his mouth, and by the quietest of moans rumbling in his chest, you think he might be doing the same. 

In the split second where you think he’s going to pull back, he cups the back of your head in his glove, sealing the hair around your shoulders to the collar of your jacket. Emboldened by your soft inhale, he turns his head, opening his mouth and more of himself up to you, and you, in turn, run as far as you can with this. You slip your arms around his scarf, trying to get at the heat of his throat, as he gathers as much as he can of you into him. 

You aren’t sure who eases you both back down from the clouds, who lifts hands and pulls apart, but your mouths separate, your noses inches from each other, and great plumes of white mist rise from your heated gasps.

“So I’m not crazy,” he murmurs, his eyes nearly completely hidden behind condensation. “There is something here. You feel it too.”

“Yes, Marcus, God, yes.” You close your eyes and bump your head against his as he sniffs in the cold, his cheeks flaming.

“That’s what it takes to get you to call me Marcus, huh? A kiss that knocks your socks off?”

You shake your head, laughing, your nose seeking out the solace of his warm skin. “‘Knocks your socks off’, you’re such a dad.” 

“Yeah, I am. And you made my daughter happier than I’ve seen her in weeks. I’ll never forget that.” 

The heavy rasp of his voice has your eyes seeking out his. You can’t quite find what you’re looking for behind the glasses, but his relaxed open mouth, the tilt of his head down to you, begs for more.

“W-wait – wait, Marcus.” You fight the sudden spark of images flying across your mind; his bare hands, free of gloves and mittens and wool, lifts your shirt up and those soft lips imprint themselves on the curve of your stomach; scorching water turns his back bright red as he tugs your knees tighter around his waist don’t worry I’ve got you; waking up to him stretched out naked and loose and finally relaxed. Your heart squeezes at the mere fantasy. Everything you’ve ever wanted, inches from your outstretched fingertips. “Are you serious about this?” 

Marcus grins, kisses your nose, and pulls you in by your scarf, as if you could possibly get any closer.

“Yes, I’m sure. Very sure. I haven’t made a choice this easy in years. Wait, I want to look you in the eyes when I say this.” He lets you go only to smear the condensation away from his glasses. Remind him to wear his contacts the next time you go out in the snow. 

Next time next time next time

“There.” He slips those thick-framed glasses back over his nose and then takes your hand. He holds it near his heart. “I like you and my kid adores you. I’ve been slowly going crazy at my desk, hoping that the way you smile at me is only for me, and that you don’t know anyone else’s coffee order by heart.” You huff a laugh, if only to loosen the knot in your throat. “What? I’m serious.” He chuckles with you before taking you into your arms again. His lips are warm against your forehead. “I’ve had it bad for you ever since you started, but I never said anything because I knew you were new to the city and you didn’t need your boss crypt-keeping on you.”

“I think the correct term the kids use is just creeping, but I get your point.” You tilt your head up into his waiting gaze. Warm like chocolate. Warm like the sturdy earth. Warm like . . . “And if my employment is the only thing keeping us apart, then I totally quit.”

“Good, ‘cause you’re totally fired.” 

You both laugh into each other, mist rising from your mouths, the corners of your mouths splitting in the cold. The temperature is steadily dropping, but you can’t seem to care. In fact, one big gust of wind could blow you away, suddenly lighter than air. 

“So does this mean I don’t have to get you a World’s Greatest Boss gift?”

He kisses your cheek and you feel it in your toes. “You’ve already given me exactly what I wanted.” 

“Merry Christmas, Marcus.”

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

did this poll earlier this year but given that it is the holidays, i figured it’s an appropriate time to do it again

and here’s part two if i can insert the link

.

[mikrokosmos]

What’s the story of your life with music?

The main reason I’d avoided responding to this question was that it’s too daunting. How do I make a narrative out of my interests and hobbies over the years? What can I remember exactly? I don’t want to go on and on, but…

My life with music started in…maybe kindergarten? In elementary school music class my teacher showed us Disney’s Fantasia, where my most vivid memories are of the Bach and Tchaikovsky segments. With Stokowski’s transcription of the Toccata and Fugue, I picked up associating music with colors and shapes, and often when I listen I still think in abstract geometric figures, especially imagining the sheet music floating around and changing colors. And from the Nutcracker suite, I went more Romantic and created stories in my head while listening.

At the same school, the fourth grade class would put on a play version of the Nutcracker story with some music from the ballet. I loved the whole “soundtrack” but especially a scene change with the piece “In the Pine Forest”

Growing up, I liked music but wasn’t really into the pop that my sister and cousins were into (Brittney Spears, NSYNC, Backstreet Boys, Spice Girls…), but I’d play around on my cousin’s out of tune piano and “taught” myself how to play Big Ben’s chimes using the black keys. My parents got me lessons with my cousin’s piano teacher who was an old Italian woman who introduced me to Chopin, Beethoven, and Rachmaninoff.

As I got more into music through YouTube and iTunes, my tastes solidified around Chopin, Liszt, Rachmaninoff, Alkan, Scriabin, heavy handed romantic piano. More “Romantic” Beethoven, some “darker” Mozart, and Bach’s organ music. Again couldn’t relate to peers when I got to high school. Yeah I liked Lady Gaga and Beyonce, but I didn’t care about any of the bands kids talked about, and didn’t like a lot of the 00s pop singers. Too many of the works I was into at the time were 19th or early 20th century piano. I was embarassed when guys asked if I listened to anything “hard” and showed them one of Prokofiev’s “War” Sonatas

I loved looking up the history of the works. At the time I thought it was just trivia but the longer I researched, the more I realized it was helping me develop an awareness of how we percieve reality and the social and cultural forces that contribute to who we are and what we do, say, and create.

My first piano teacher passed away, which was kind of rough. She felt like a third grandmother, told me stories about her husband in “The War”, and recorded several Chopin pieces for her family to keep for posterity. I always think of her when I listen to Chopin’s Waltz in Ab, op.69 no.1. Maybe too Romantic of me to bring up the “Farewell Waltz” nickname.

In general I had a very Romantic, and somewhat closed-minded, attitude toward music going through into college. I was kind of snobby against popular music styles, I was convinced Mozart was overrated elevator music, that Satie was a “one-hit-wonder”, and that there was no point in listening to anyone before Bach. Thankfully a lot of taste changes happened through college as I explored the repertoire more and got familiar with Mozart, ‘classical’ Beethoven, Brahms, Haydn, Handel, Hildegard von Bingen, Palestrina, Mahler, Hindemith, Barber, Schoenberg, and I won’t keep name dumping but when thinking back to my time at college I have a lot of memories of how I felt listening to music and pondering life in the way college students are expected to do.

I’ve always been an amateur pianist, and have been self-taught for the past ten years or so. And a lot has changed in my tastes and attitudes.

Still a Romantic at heart but I try to treat music as “objectively” as I can, let it speak for itself, and try to keep the era in mind when asking “what does this mean? What is this trying to convey?”. I’ve tried letting go of biases so I can appreciate other genres more. I’ve also been engaging more with the musical avant-garde, and am on the more liberal side of the aesthetic “culture wars” that have been going on since the mid 20th century.

Right now my favorite composer is Olivier Messiaen who I believe without any irony is the best composer of Christian music, and maybe the only Western composer who conveys a Christian sense of the Divine to the “greatest” extant possible. Of course that’s my own opinion, but for me the 20 Regards sur l’enfant-Jésus is the greatest work of piano music I’ve heard. The idea of best or greatest when talking about art is pretty silly, and the older I get the more hesitant I am to try and argue for something as arbitrary as “best”, so maybe I’d say that Messiaen is the closest to my heart, along with Chopin, Liszt, Scriabin, Debussy, Mahler, and R. Strauss.

And I don't really talk about my personal life so much, but I have a complicated faith in Christianity, and I'm a gay man, and maybe it's silly but music has been integral to my understanding of life and the self.

[withlovelunette]

Matryoshka Doll & Wooden Soldiers writing update #1

I'm here to share some excerpts from the first chapter! You can find the WIP post for this story here if you want a more thorough introduction, but it’s essentially a retelling of Hoffmann’s The Nutcracker and the Mouse King with elements of steampunk and magical curses weaved throughout. This post is pretty short because I’m a bit picky with my own writing, but I hope you enjoy regardless!!

So the first chapter is mostly dedicated to establishing the situation/setting, Clara’s character and her relationship with her mother. For context, Clara’s been sent off to go live in the city with her godfather, Drosselmeyer, and this is the opening paragraph!

Clara Stahlbaum never defended her mother’s state of mind, lest she also be labeled a hysterical woman. She’d packed a single suitcase and taken the first train out of Marburg’s countryside, not to pursue womanhood nor stardom the way her mother had, but to “seek respite”, as her father put it. Very few traveled further north during the month of November. Winter’s reach had expanded with each year, powdering the land in white to claim every valley and pine forest as her own. Godfather Drosselmeyer would regularly report on the local rumors within the city in his letters–about the snowflakes acting as spies for a fairy queen further north, or that a vengeful curse had overtaken the land–and Clara read each and every one of them as thrilling stories before bed. Such rumors aside, the harsh winters didn’t frighten her, but spring had never felt as distant as it did now, as Clara steps onto the locomotive that will plunge her deeper into winter’s grasp.

Honestly, I’m always very unsure of how to start a story, and I’m still not completely sold on this first paragraph, but I think it functionally does what I want it to do, so I’ll probably rephrase and restructure it in a different draft.

This is just a random excerpt that I sort of liked:

Her mother had always said that to get all the strands of Clara’s hair slicked back and neatly assorted into a tight bun was an undertaking, as if her hair refused to comply with the disciplines of ballet, her hairline embellished with golden baby curls in defiance. In her mother’s absence, Clara had wondered if her hair would refuse to be slicked back into a bun ever again.

I will probably move this part to a different chapter at some point ^^;

Here’s an excerpt of Clara reminiscing on the train. It’s a continuation of the previous excerpt except I have no plans of moving this part (for now). 

The scene of her mother bowing on stage as the applause drowns out all other sound, even her own heartbeat, is fresh in Clara’s mind despite its age, onlookers tossing out fresh bouquets of camellia and sealed yellowed envelopes to proclaim their admiration for the prima ballerina. Such admirers had remarked how Clara was the spitting image of her mother. She believed that anytime she watched her mother’s performance, she’d been staring straight into her own future, and she held onto that promise with pride. But then her mother’s hair grayed, her eyes sunken in, and her skin clung to her bones in a way that could only be considered flattering on a young woman. The convictions that once made her attractive and lively made her difficult to work with, the perfectionism that once made her brilliant made her controlling, and Clara could no longer aspire to such a future.

Initially, I want to present Clara’s retirement from ballet as if it was something she did by choice to avoid her mother’s fate, because that’s exactly how she copes with her injury (which is the actual cause behind her early retirement). She’s mentally trying to reframe her retirement as something she did by choice, rather than something she did out of necessity, because she already has a bunch of reasons she could have chosen to retire early.

That’s all I really had to share from the first chapter since I’m still reconstructing it, but I hope it wasn’t too short/long of a read! I’d love to make a post about character creation or constructing character psychology or something along those lines one day, so maybe I’ll do that if it’s something people would be interested in? Or anything fairytale related, let me know!

Tag list: @sam-glade @strangerays @writing-is-a-martial-art @amywrites256​ @eurydicefades​ @serenanymph

Let me know if anyone would like to be removed/added to the tag list for writing updates and additional content for this wip!

[bratz-bitch6]

Pieces for hopeless romantics

To all you passionate lovers out there, here is a list of of the best pieces of music evoking romance.

1. Chairman’s Waltz - Memoirs of a Geisha

A gorgeous piece of music that is suffused with longing and pent-up desire for a lover who is out of grasp, elusive. The lilting violin by Itzhak Perlman is laden with woe and plight. There is this fragility that emulates the delicate nature of being a geisha and falling knee deep in a forbidden love.

“Can’t you see? Every step I have taken since I was that child on the bridge has been to bring myself closer to you.”

2. Love Theme from Romeo and Juliet

Soft, tender, and sweet. This piece is lush and encapsulates the innocence of Romeo and Juliet in their dalliance.

“Bring me my Romeo and when he shall die, take him and cut him out into little stars. And he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun”

3. In the Christmas Tree from The Nutcracker

Of course I had to include the nutcracker in my lineup. This piece is magical, light, and dreamy. Almost like being whisked away on a puffy cloud and catapulted into a fairytale romance. Something about this piece reminds of the Disney magic that made romance to me so alluring and beautiful.

4. Love Remembered by Wojciech Kilar from Dracula

This piece is so strikingly beautiful. At first melodic and lovely. An immortal love that transcends time. There is something so pure about it. A haunting melody almost uncanny but still gorgeous and hypnotic. There really is nothing that encapsulates a forever love quite like this one. A love like a faded impression of something fatal yet beautiful. A deadly love that is all-consuming and juxtaposed with purity.

5. The heart asks pleasure first by Michael Nyman

This piece is expressive and dynamic. The notes flow seamlessly and beautifully into each hand (when played it feels like perfect dexterity). It’s dramatic and passionate and filled to the brim with emotion. There is something to be said about how unconventionally romantic it is. Tumultuous, turbulent, and utterly beautiful. There is so much depth and nuance to this piece. It’s seriously worth a listen.

[trukqsofficial]

Act I: Nutcracker and Marie Depart for the Pine Forest § George Balanchine's The Nutcracker

[rvtravellife]

Adventure through Crater Lake National Park Oregon

by Paige Guscott Embark on a thrilling adventure through the breathtaking Crater Lake National Park in Oregon. Discover stunning landscapes, azure waters, and captivating wildlife. Experience the ultimate outdoor escape today!.... History of Crater Lake National Park Oregon, USA Crater Lake National Park was established on May 22, 1902, by President Theodore Roosevelt. It was the fifth park in the United States to be brought under the stewardship of the National Park Service. The establishment was a result of efforts by individuals like William Gladstone Steel, who advocated for the protection of the area. Prior to its designation, the region around Crater Lake had been recognized for its geological value and unique landscape, formed around 7,700 years ago when the then-towering Mount Mazama erupted. This massive volcanic event expelled so much material that the mountain could no longer support itself, leading to its collapse and the formation of a vast caldera. Over time, rain and snowfall filled the basin, giving birth to Crater Lake National Park Oregon. The Indigenous Klamath Tribe has long revered the lake as a sacred site. They witnessed the collapse of Mount Mazama and have passed down oral histories that speak to the event's profound spiritual impact. This history adds a rich cultural background to the park's geological marvels. Though not the deepest lake in the world, at 1,943 feet deep, it is the deepest lake in the United States and one of the clearest in the world. The clarity is due to the water being primarily sourced from snow and rain, lacking the sediment that rivers or streams might carry into the lake. The Circle of Discovery Crater Lake National Park Oregon USA is a part of the 'Circle of Discovery', a collection of 5 national parks and national recreation areas in Oregon and California. The Circle includes Crater Lake National Park Oregon, Lava Beds and Tule Lake National Monuments, Lassen Volcanic National Park, Whiskeytown National Recreation Area, Redwood National and State Parks. These areas are carefully managed to ensure that visitors can fully experience nature while also preserving the natural beauty of the land. These areas offer a wide range of activities such as hiking, camping, fishing, and wildlife viewing. They are the perfect places for families, friends, and individuals to connect with the outdoors. Plants and Animals of Crater Lake Within the borders of Crater Lake National Park Oregon lies a vibrant tapestry of ecological diversity, ranging from ancient forests to meadows abloom with wildflowers. Ecological Diversity in the Park Within Crater Lake National Park Oregon you can find a forest of trees that have stood tall for centuries. That's the old-growth forest of the park, a sanctuary for towering pines and firs that have weathered storms and seasons for hundreds of years. These forests are not only remarkable to look at, but also serve as a crucial habitat for a number of species. The understory of these woods is a maze of thimbleberries, huckleberries, and ferns, creating a lush green contrast to the deep blue of the lake. The park's diverse habitats extend beyond the reach of its trees. Alpine meadows dotted with wildflowers provide a kaleidoscope of colors in the warmer months, while marshes and springs offer a water source to the wildlife. Each of these unique ecosystems plays a role in supporting the park's complex web of life. Wildlife Residents of Crater Lake National Park Oregon From the tiny pikas that dart among rock piles to the stately Roosevelt elk roaming the meadows, the park is alive with creatures great and small. Birds of prey like bald eagles and ospreys can be seen soaring above, scanning the waters for fish, while Clark's nutcrackers fill the air with their distinctive calls. At dusk, you might spot a black bear ambling through the underbrush or hear the howl of a coyote in the distance. It's not just the land dwellers that captivate the park's visitors. Crater Lake National Park Oregon itself is home to two species of fish: the Kokanee salmon and the rainbow trout. These fish were introduced to the lake over a century ago and continue to thrive in the clear, cold waters. Anglers might find a quiet spot along the lake area to cast a line, but it's important to remember that fishing regulations are in place to maintain the delicate balance of this ecosystem. PlayCrater Lake National Park Crater Lake: Why It Captivates Visitors Imagine standing at the rim of a vast, impossibly blue lake, enclosed by sheer cliffs and silent forests. This is Crater Lake National Park, a place of awe-inspiring beauty and profound natural splendor. Visual Splendor: Crystal-Clear Waters and Panoramic Views Photo by mlle_farfalle on Pixabay The first glimpse of Crater Lake is often one that stays with visitors forever. Its waters, some of the clearest on earth, reflect a vivid blue that seems almost surreal. This clarity is due to the lake being primarily fed by snow and rain, with little to no impurities entering the water..... Read More... Read the full article

[pushovermediacritic]

Fantasia Short Rankings

Here's my ranking of all the shorts in both Fantasia and Fantasia 2000, from best to worst. And I apologize, but I will be ranking these almost entirely based on the animation and how the music pairs with it. The songs are classical pieces, so there's no reason to rate one higher or lower based on just how much I like the song itself, it's not like Disney made them.

Firebird Suite (forest sprite vs volcano bird). Absurdly gorgeous animation, cute character dynamics despite only having 3 characters, and a really nice character arc of curiosity, fear, trauma, hope, and rebirth that perfectly demonstrates a real scientific phenomenon (life springing back after an eruption) is a beautiful manner.

Rhapsody in Blue (people in city). I love this short. It probably has the best music-to-animation synching out of any Fantasia short. This is one of the few Fantasia shorts where I can't imagine the song without this animation put to it. The animation style is fantastic, the four interweaving stories are great, and the overall tone is sympathetic and fun. My only gripe is John's wife getting way too harsh of an ending.

Pomp and Circumstance (Donald Duck Noah's Ark). The classic Noah's ark story with a different classic "two lovers separate and think the other's dead, just barely missing each other constantly" comedic set-up. I think this short is great, with gorgeous animal animation and great comedic timing. I think this short is better than The Sorcerer's Apprentice, though just by a hair.

The Sorcerer's Apprentice (Mickey the magic novice). I think Mickey's short is the best of the original Fantasia, but it doesn't hit the same highs of 2000. It has a really fun story, with lots of extremely iconic scenes and segments. There's a reason it's the only short that got remade into a full movie and even included in 2000.

Pines of Rome (flying whales). As nonsensical as they are, I like the flying whales, I'm a defender of this one. The CGI works better here than in The Steadfast Tin Soldier, and the use of light, ice refraction, and water is really pretty. And I don't mind the simple story, with the baby whale getting separated from its parents. The final sequence is beautiful.

Dance of the Hours (ballet of ostriches, hippos, elephants, and alligators). It's always funny to me that this is one of the more iconic Fantasia shorts. After Yen Sid and Chernabog, Hyacinch Hippo seems to be the most iconic Fantasia-original character. This is also one of the few genuinely hilarious Fantasia shorts. Even if half the jokes are fat jokes, they're usually fat jokes on the alligators being out of their depth as predators trying to hunt hippos and elephants, not on the hippos and elephants, who are as nimble and graceful as ballerinas should be. And the dancing is really creative and energetic.

Symphony No. 5 (light butterflies vs dark bats). Pretty basic "good vs evil" story, with abstract shapes to introduce the animation to music concept, similar to Toccata and Fugue in the original Fantasia. Except this short is much better than Toccata and Fugue because it actually has characters and a plot.

Night on Bald Mountain (demons and monks). As cool as the demons are, the entire second half with the monks really drags it down. That's probably just a me thing, though. As a Jew, anything Christian is just super annoying. I totally understand other people rating it much higher.

The Rite of Spring (dinosaurs). I liked this one as a kid, but nowadays, the inaccuracies in the dinosaur portrayals are too infuriating to ignore. The beginning with the world forming was longer than I remember, and the water animation here is really nice.

Piano Concerto No. 2, Allegro, Opus 102 (The Steadfast Tin Soldier). Well, it sure is "Disney's 'The Steadfast Tin Soldier'", complete with a changed happy ending. Obviously it was inspired by Toy Story, but it doesn't really get across the same feeling. Not bad, just kind of mediocre.

The Nutcracker Suite. (flora, fauna, and fairies dance the changing of the seasons). This short always reminds me of Little April Showers from Bambi. Would rank better, except there's quite a bit of racism. Between the Chinese mushrooms, Arabian fish, and Russian flowers, literally half the short (3/6 segments) is stereotypes. Not sure why Disney isn't more ashamed of this short, since they censored The Pastoral Symphony.

The Pastoral Symphony (greek centaur party). Racism issue. Even in the censored version, there's still some racism left like the black zebra centaurs who carry Bacchus in and then don't get to participate in the party. The story is also lame and doesn't really amount to anything. They were gonna have a match-making centaur party, but then Zeus crashed it. That's it.

The Carnival of the Animals, Finale (flamingo with a yo-yo). Cute, but really underwhelming. Decent music synch, but it's just forgettable. Doesn't help that the flamingo is actually annoying to the audience.

Meet the Soundtrack (a white line). Boring. More interesting and humorous than Toccata and Fugue, but still lame.

Toccata and Fugue in D Minor (abstract lines and shapes). The first short of the first Fantasia sucks. I thought it was boring as a kid, I think it's boring now. I guess it's okay as an introduction to the concept, but I don't really think "animation set to music" was such a revolutionary idea that it needed an introduction, even in 1940.

The Sorcerer's Apprentice (Reprise). Sorry, but I legitimately hate that they just repeated Mickey's short again in Fantasia 2000, with no changes. Complete waste of time.

[kumarumang5566]

Bird Watching in Arnold, California: Best Spots and Tips for Enthusiasts.

Arnold, California, located in the Sierra Nevada foothills, offers excellent opportunities for bird watching. Here are some of the best spots and tips for enthusiasts: Click Here For More

Best Spots for Bird Watching in Arnold

Calaveras Big Trees State Park:

Description: Known for its giant sequoias, this park provides diverse habitats, including meadows, forests, and riverbanks.

Birds to Watch: Look for species like the American dipper, Steller’s jay, mountain chickadee, and various woodpeckers, including the pileated woodpecker.

White Pines Lake:

Description: A serene lake surrounded by forested areas, perfect for waterfowl and other bird species.

Birds to Watch: Common sightings include mallards, Canada geese, osprey, and various songbirds.

Ebbetts Pass National Scenic Byway:

Description: A scenic route offering numerous pull-offs and trails through diverse habitats from lower elevations to alpine areas.

Birds to Watch: Bird species vary by elevation, but you might see Clark’s nutcracker, mountain bluebird, and golden eagles.

Stanislaus National Forest:

Description: Encompasses a large area with varied ecosystems, providing numerous trails and secluded spots for bird watching.

Birds to Watch: Includes species such as the western tanager, hermit thrush, and spotted owl.

Tips for Bird Watching

Best Times to Visit:

Early mornings and late afternoons are typically the best times for bird activity.

Spring and early summer are prime seasons for bird watching, with many species nesting and active.

Equipment:

Bring a good pair of binoculars for better viewing.

A field guide specific to California birds can help with identification.

A camera with a zoom lens can capture distant birds without disturbing them.

Quiet and Patience:

Move slowly and quietly to avoid startling the birds.

Be patient and take time to observe; sometimes it takes a while for birds to appear.

Clothing:

Wear neutral-colored clothing to blend in with the environment.

Dress in layers to adjust to changing temperatures, especially in higher elevations.

Safety:

Be aware of your surroundings and watch for wildlife other than birds.

Carry water, snacks, and a first aid kit, especially if you plan on hiking in more remote areas.

Leave No Trace:

Respect nature and other wildlife; do not disturb nests or feeding birds.

Carry out all trash and leave the environment as you found it.

Additional Resources

Local Bird Watching Groups: Joining local bird watching groups or clubs can provide valuable insights and company.

Birding Apps: Apps like eBird can help you track sightings and discover popular birding spots.

Visitor Centers: Check out local visitor centers for up-to-date information and guided bird walks.

Enjoy your bird watching adventures in Arnold, California!

[hailtothemightystarwarrior]

The Star Warrior Nutcracker Ch. 3: Fortune's Fool

“Oh my,” adeleine shivered as she and her friends walked through the tunnel. “It’s so dark”

The girl quietly apologized and gazed fearfully into the darkness. She gripped the nutcracker’s arm tighter with no intention of letting go and losing herself in the dark tunnel.

How much further? She whispered

metaknight shrugged. “I honestly don’t know” he leaned closed “Don’t worry, mistress. By my honor, I will keep you from harm”

adeleine blushed and admired how handsome the nutcracker looked in the dim light.

Then she frowned when she remembered he was engaged. To a Queen, no less

That was really what bothered her about this quest. Not the fact that she was facing an awful tyrant, but that the prince charming joining her already had a love. Of course, she had no intention of pursing a man that was taken, but didn’t the heroine of every fairy tale get the prince in the end? If the nutcracker had the queen, what did make adeleine?

“I see a Light!” ribbon announced, pointing ahead

adeleine looked up and saw that the little fairy was correct. A tiny speck of light was waiting at the end of the tunnel

“We’re close,” metaknight declared

adeleine quivered as a new thought occurred to her “What if the squeak king and the sqeakers are waiting on the other side?”

“Most likely not. daroach would’ve send them back to the castle. But just in case…”

He drew his sword and the group straightened up alertly. Iris held her breath as they approached the light. She had to shield her eyes for them to read just to the brightness. When she opened them, she gasped

They had emerged from the mouth of the cave and entered a forest of tall, snow-covered pine trees that looked as if they would touch the sky. She was surprised to see it so blue, considering what time it was

The nutcracker seemed to read her thoughts and explained “time works differently here”

adeleine sniffed the air and her eyes widened “Peppermint?

“Wow!” adeleine said. “I thought there’d be more colorful”

“Oh, just you wait,” metaknight chuckled “This is only the edge of the kingdom” he sighed. “I thought as much. It will take us a day, maybe longer before we reach the dream palace”

“Where is the palace?” Adeleine inquired

“At the kingdom’s very center”

“How will we even get there?” Ribbon asked

“Just follow the path here”

“Oh, I see” she uttered

“But we should be careful following the path,” metaknight said as he led the group forward “daroach may have spies watching it for any approaching intruders”

“So you’re saying we shouldn’t follow the path?” ribbon questioned

“No, otherwise we’ll get lost”

She narrowed her eyes. “Make up your own mind!”

“I’m saying we should stay to the edge of the path, so we can jump if anybody approaches”

“What will we even do when we get to the palace?” Iris asked

metaknight paused “I’m not sure”

ribbon groaned “You mean we’re about to confront an evil dark king, and you don’t have a plan?!”

“Hey! I didn’t think I’d ever be able to get back here!” Besides, we have at least a day before we reach the palace”

adeleine paused when she heard a twig snap “Did you hear that?”

The others glanced behind them. metaknight held out his sword and waited for something to appear. When nothing came, relaxed, lurking in these woods”

Neither of them saw the golden eyes watching them through the bushes. The owner of those eyes silently cursed himself for almost blowing his cover. He’d been asked to watch the cave entrance for any suspicious behavior, and seeing the nutcracker with the strange girl was suspicious

When the travelers were out of sight, the spies came out of the bushes. He was a black circle that looks like metaknight in crimson sabatons. His mask is essentially the same as metaknight's with a large scar-like scratch on its left side. The mask also features spikier horns, as well as a thinner and more angled slit in his mask, giving him the impression of a constant scowl. He wears a torn black cape that apparently grants him wings like metaknight. And with him were two spies.

One Is a fairy who strongly resembles a paintbrush. She has peach skin on her face and hands, pink blush, blue eyes, and brown eyebrows. Her rainbow hair—which is comprised of red, yellow, orange, pink, blue, turquoise, green, and purple stripes—ends in a point atop her head. She has a pink body adorned with a red brooch, a white underside, and wings.

The Other a yellow mouse-like creature, with a long snout and slight frame, along with the signature large ears of a Squeak. He wears a long red cape and large, shiny red shades.

With one last glance at the group, the three spies went off, deep into the woods.

“The boss Won’t be happy when he hears about this” the yellow squeak said to the pink and white fairy.

In the center of the land of dreams where the counting sheep graze in the meadows, a strange, large, but lovely White Castle adrift in the middle of an ice cold lake. It is decorated with conical roofs of the towers were made entirely out of Crystal and the windows were paned with diamond, and the white walls glistened in the sunlight.The Castle itself was too large, too beautiful to take in all at once. it seemed to go on forever, with countless wings and windows, towers, and turrets. somehow its both majestic and oddly cozy-looking; a place of safety and of comfort to anyone looking at it. Squeakers guarded the gates and paced the walls above

Inside, the squeak king lay sprawled across a large white throne with the letter “D” On its Head. A second throne sat a few feet away from him, this one less menacing, with a white and pale pink pattern and red heart at it’s head. There was a thin layer of dust on the seat, as it hadn’t been sat in for a while

daroach had removed his hat, He had a large ice pack pressed his head as he drinks a soothing cup of tea.

“A human,” he groaned “A human! Me, Outsmarted by a human! A girl, no less. He paused “how old was she, anyway?”

“Why are you asking me?” said the large snail with a dark green shell giving him feet rubs “I wasn’t there, sir”

daroach sat up and glared at the servant “Oh, shut up, slug, and get me more ice! This thing’s gone cold!”

The servant rolled his eyes and left the room, grumbling, “I have a name, It’s escargoon”

Daroach growled at storo, who was standing by in fear. “I told you to grab the girl! I ask you idiots to do one simple thing and you blew it!

The officer twiddled his fingers. “Well, with due respect, Your majesty…you couldn’t grab her either”

He yelped as he was suddenly gripped on by the red shirt. daroach glared at him with his golden colored eyes before throwing him across the floor. escargoon came running in with a fresh ice pack

“Here you are your…”

“Good” daroach groaned, taking the ice pack into his hand and putting it to his head. “Oh, might want to get one for storo too”

escargoon nodded and left again. The squeak king growled in frustration

“As if throwing me off a heap with the brooch wasn’t enough, she throws a slipper at me! A slipper!”

He rolled his stomach and settled his head on his hand in thought. How could he have let his guard down like that? Why didn’t he just high jump her into his arms instead of playing that endless game of cat-and-mouse? Why did he have to get so enraptured in the young lady that he failed to obtain her? How could he have let himself be beaten by a girl?!

A pretty girl at that…

daroach found himself thinking of the girl’s beautiful face. Her hair was the color of the ebony, but when he had touched it, it was like touching the lightest and softest of silk. And her eyes…those deep, brown eyes… they were filled with so much innocence, yet sparked with fire when she was angry

He grunted at the realization that he didn’t know her name. What had the nutcracker called her? He always called her mistress but didn’t catch the name.

“Your majesty!” doc called as burst through the doors “We’ve brought the witch sisters!”

His flying saucer’s arm hauled in two ladies. The First Lady wears a jarring violet robe with blue and yellow markings on the bottom, with golden shoulder pads which hold up her pink ascot, and a violet hat with pink fabric at its base. She has grayish-blue hair. The Second Lady wears a red wizard hat with a wide rim, a white-ish green cloth around it, and a long, pointed top. There are what seem to be yellow flowers on the hat, as well. She has curly pink hair and yellow eyes. Under her eyes is a tightly wrapped, blue piece of clothing, held there by a yellow button in the middle. She has a red and orange lined coat with fluffy red brims, and she wears a purple vest, with two yellow buttons underneath it. Her legs resemble the tip of a paintbrush split in two.

“For the last time!” the pink haired one hollered “we’re diviners, not witches!”

daroach ignored her comment and sat up, putting the ice pack aside “Good work, boys. Just put them right there”

They threw the two witches down at daroach’s feet. they looked up at him in disdain. He only returned their glare

“You did not tell me the nutcracker would be there?” he accused, pointing a finger at them

The violet witch’s face softened as her eyes filled with hopeful tears “metaknight was there?”

“Don’t play dumb, drawcia! I should’ve expected you to withhold information regarding your captain!”

drawcia’s eyes narrowed “we didn’t know! our magic can only reveal certain things in the future! We just can’t see everything!”

“You didn’t tell me how impossible it would be to remove the brooch from a girl’s neck!”

“We told you everything we knew!”

daroach stood up and began pacing the room “You didn’t tell me enough!”

paintra rose as well, turning to face him. “We told you where you would find the brooch! we Showed you the girl wearing the booch! We told you that the brooch…”

“…Would be my undoing! Yes, Yes, Yes! I know all of that!” he stomped over to her. “What I want to know is how I get the brooch off the girl's neck?!

The violet witch sighed. “Powerful amulets and brooches tend to have magical locks. The only one who can remove it is the wearer”

daroach gave her a scrutinizing look “You’re hiding something. I know it! There’s something about that prophecy you didn’t reveal, isn’t there?”

She gave him an equal stare. “If you doubt our prediction, let us show you again.”

They spent the next few minutes engaged in a staring contests, before daroach gruffly gave up and turned to two squeakers

“One of you, fetch a bowl of water”

The two tilted in confusion

“NOW!” daroach boomed

The little squeakers shrank and dashed off

“I’m curious,” paintra said, “I mean you have magic that can get you anything you want, so why do you have those guys do all your dirty work?”

“To show them who’s boss,” the squeak king grunted “Plus, it’s fun watching them do idoitic and petty tasks”

The two squeaks returned with a large bowl of water. It was sloshed and spilled slightly as they stopped

“Very good, boys,” daroach chuckled “Now set it down”

“Now” daroach said, looking down at the sisters, “Do your thing”

The witches sighed and closed their eyes. they pulled out their wands in the form of paintbrushes. The wands lit up with a colorful aura as they slowly brought it down to the bowl. When her wand touched the water, it created ripples, changing the water’s color with smoke coming out. daroach leaned forward and watched as an image began to form in the water”

“What do you see…”

A deep, unearthly voice came both out of the two sisters’ mouths and said:

“A deadly curse shall be lifted from all…”

In the smoky water, he saw metaknight returned to flesh, embracing a lady that was the fairy queen.

“The king of squeaks shall finally fall…”

The image changed to daroach, wincing as if he were in pain

“The land of dreams will be free from blindness…”

The scene shifted to denizens in a great celebration

“Darkness undone by an artist’s brooch and her kindness”

The young lady came into view, the golden brooch around her neck

The two witches gasped as they broke contact with the water, which instantly returned to normal. They both opened their eyes and put her hands to their head. daroach narrowed his eyes at the two

“Impossible, That’s the exact same thing you showed me before!” he shouted, kicking the bowl over. “Tell me how I may prevent this from happening”

“Nothing can prevent it!” drawcia declared “our prophecies always come true!”

“You’re lying! You’re not telling me everything!” he gripped the collar of their cloaks, bringing them to his eye “Tell me or I’ll cut you to ribbons like the one you’re wearing right now!”

“We don't write about the future, daroach!” the pink haired witch spatted “we only foretell it!”

“You mean there’s nothing new you can tell me?!”

“Those who try to prevent their fate end up sealing it! If you really want to continue your reign, I suggest you leave it alone!”

“Oh, sure!” he claimed “That’s just what you want, isn’t it? You want me defeated, don’t you?! You want revenge for what I did to your captain! Is that is?! If i hadn’t seen the girl and the brooch myself, i’d think you were making all this up!

“we told you all we’ve could,” drawcia heaved in fatigue “we only did it because you asked”

Daroach felt ready to strangle the witch, but took a deep breath and calmed himself

“I’ll prove you wrong,” he said nonchalantly “I’ll get that brooch, even if i have to rip it from that lovely girl’s neck!”

Drawcia and paintra raised an eyebrow “Lovely?” they spoke in unison

He stiffened “I meant it in a taunting manner!”

The sisters was about to question further when a streak of black burst through the door. The black knight, the pink brush fairy, yellow squeaker came in and bowed boldly to the squeak king

daroach rolled his eyes and crossed his arms “This better be good, spinni and elline. I’m in a meeting”

spinni twisted his head and smiled when she noticed the sisters. “Oh, hey, ladies”

“Hello, spinni,” paintra said

“Quit fraternizing!” daroach bellowed. “What do you have to report?”

The young squeaker and the paintbrush fairy both laughed nervously “Well, we were watching the cave like you told us and…well…you’re not going to like this…”

“Get to the point or I’ll rip the pelt off of you!”

“Okay, okay! Take it easy! Anyway, metaknight’s back!”

“WHAT?!”

“Ugh, I should’ve known nut boy would follow me!” daroach growled. “If only I were able to open that portal more than once!”

“He didn’t come alone,” spinni grunted

“An army, then? Has he come to declare war on us?”

“No. he didn’t bring many, just that pink duo and this black haired lady i’ve never seen before”

daroach’s eyes widened “black haired lady?” he gripped the front of spinni’s red cape and the hair of elline “what black haired lady?”

“Just a girl. At least i think she was a girl, i mean she was pretty young”

“Did she had Hair like a ebony? Eyes like sweet chocolates?

“Yeah, uh…what?”

He brought him closer and shouted, “WHAT DID SHE LOOK LIKE?!”

“Brown eyes, black hair… oh, she had a golden brooch of some sort”

“Golden brooch…:” daroach murmured before bringing spinni closer. “What was her name?”

“Huh?”

WHAT WAS HER NAME?!”

“Uh…” spinni blinked, “I…I think metaknight called her, uh…Adeleine!”

“Adeleine…”

As soon as he said the word, he lost his grip on the two.

“Adeleine…” he whispered again as he stared off into space

The name was perfect: a fitting name for all delicate and graceful, sounding like the name of a goddess. There was really no better name that would suit something so soft, so fragile, so alluring, so…

“Um… your majesty?”

spinni snapped him out of his daze

“Huh? Oh, um… what else did you hear?”

They’re coming to the palace to…well, to defeat you. They’re following the rainbow road”

daroach huffed ”fool. Thinking he can just waltz in here and stab me in the chest!”

He walked to the window and pulled out a spyglass. He looked through it and could see to the farthest edge of the land of dreams. His eyes searched until it fell upon a green and white speck among the white snow. He readjusted the spyglass so it would focus on the speck

There she was, walking down the rainbow path with the nutcracker and the pink duo that had attacked him. He zeroed in on the girl’s golden brooch

“There it is,” he uttered, grinning wickedly. “Coming right to me”

He brought his gaze back to the girl. Unlike their previous encounter, she was smiling as she was talking with her companions. The sight made his eyes light up

“She’s even prettier in the daytime…”

“What?” spinni said, tilting his head

daroach puts down the spyglass and stiffened when he realized he had said that last bit out loud

“I, uh, err, what?! I can’t acknowledge that a young lady is pretty?! It’s just a critical observation! Oh shut up!”

“What did We tell you?” paintra spat “Your destruction is marching up to your door! That girl wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t tried to kidnap her in the first place”

“On the contrary, miss paintra,” the squeak king chuckled darkly, “This only makes my job far easier!”

He looked back through the spyglass and frowned. “It’ll take them at least a day to get here at the rate. I’m far too impatient!” he pulled his sight back further “Hmm. they’re approaching Cappy Town”

He lowered the spyglass in thought. “Hey, spinni, isn’t that where those pesky freedom fighters are hiding out?”

“Yeah,” spinni nodded “We haven’t been able to catch them, of course, because they’re about as good at camouflage as I am as a stealthy warrior”

daroach chuckled as he lifted the glass back to his eye. “Well, they’ll certainly be on edge if four strange individuals enter their territory, in fact, i think those pest might make our job even easier”

He called to his officers, “Doc! Storo! Round up the others! We’re gonna bag ourselves some rebels” the officers saluted

“And while you’re at it, take the witches back to their cell. I’m done with them”

drawcia glared at the officers took them by the arms

“We warned you, daroach. You shouldn’t have been tempted with fate!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” the squeak king said, waving his hand

He homed back in on the black haired girl, his evil grin returning

“That’s right, my beauty,” he sneered. “Come to me. For in a matter of minutes, you’ll be mine”

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

part two here if i can edit this post

[spacealiencafe]

if anyone else here hums to stim, do you have a go-to song?

mine is the pine forest from the nutcracker

[that-fema-corps-blog]

Day 350

July 18, 2023

I got up early and took a look around Diamond Lake. There wasn’t much activity, though I did see a female common merganser swimming.

We left around 7:30 and began the drive toward Crater Lake. We stopped at Castle Crest Wildflower Trail along the way for a short hike. It’s not in full bloom yet, but it’s still quite pretty. I was surprised to find that there was still some ice on the ground. I suppose that’s a result of the altitude; we were 7,500 feet up the last I checked. I was surprised I didn’t feel it, considering we were at sea level just a day before.

I promptly fell behind looking for birds and got caught in a conversation with two older women about flowers. They told me that this was the first time they’d been here this year and were coming to see the flowers before the main fire season. They pointed out several flowers including bog orchids, which they said were growing earlier this year.

They also showed me monkeyflowers, which they said would grow to cover much of the hill after a couple months.

I parted ways to try to catch up to my teammates and reached the trail clearing. It strikes me how richly this forest smells of wood. I usually don’t notice the scent of a place, but this was difficult to miss; it quite reminded me of the lumber section of a hardware store or the part of a tractor supply store that sells horse stall bedding.

The team had started splitting up to look for me by the time I found some of them. It probably took 20 or 30 minutes for the rest of us to reunite. Oops. We continued to Crater Lake, pulling over every few minutes to look. It’s hard to explain just how huge this place is. There’s no way to see it all without turning one’s head, and I couldn’t get the whole thing in one photo:

Crater Lake has a unique geological history. It is the deepest lake in the United States:

A massive eruption occurred about 7,700 years ago. It was followed by ejections of volcanic matter through fractures, in an oval shape around the mountain. These events weakened the mountain’s structure, and caused the central portion of Mount Mazama to collapse inward. The result was an 5–6 mi (8–10 km) diameter and 0.7 mi (1.2 km) deep caldera. … Soon after the caldera formed, eruptions from new vents built the base of Wizard Island, and over several hundred years, rain and snow partially filled the caldera. Meanwhile, Wizard Island continued to grow and three other volcanoes formed underwater. The final eruption was on the east flank of Wizard Island about 4,800 years ago. … Evaporation and seepage are equal forces which keep Crater Lake from filling beyond an average depth of 1,943 ft (592 m) or 4.9 trillion gal (18.6 trillion L) of water. About 34 billion gal (128 billion L) are gained and lost each year.

All three vans met at the visitor center so we could swap teammates and look around more. The visitor center itself was closed, but there was quite a bit of activity nonetheless. I ran into a birder I earlier saw on the wildflower trail, and she told me that the Clark’s nutcrackers I was watching had fledged a week ago. Interestingly, these juveniles looked identical to the adult feeding them; I wouldn’t have known they were fledglings if it weren’t for them screaming to be fed. I suppose this isn’t too surprising, considering they’re related to crows and jays, which generally don’t have the most distinct juvenal plumage.

I saw a Townsend’s solitaire flying in the distance. These robin and bluebird relatives are plain grey birds with few markings, minus some light patterning on the wings. The solid buff stripe on the top of its wing was a distinct enough field mark for me to be confident identifying it.

I watched a small flock of red crossbills land in one of the conifers. These goldfinch relatives have unique crossed bills they use to pry seeds out of cones. They are somewhat uncommon among birds for not having a distinct breeding season or location; they’ll breed whenever and wherever the conifer seeds are plentiful.

We drove for several hours and crossed into California. It looks like several acres along the interstate had burned recently:

A few more miles, and we passed Mount Shasta and met for lunch at Weed, CA. Another several hours, and we finally arrived back at campus. We took COVID tests, got our dorm keys, unloaded the vans, and spent the rest of the evening socializing and resting.

[fromsiberia]

Autumn forest

One pine cone have already been looted by local fauna (Spotted Nutcracker, I think) and one fell right in front of me.