Emily procter lips

[POEM] The Moon by Emily Dickinson

2024.05.21 17:55 RayMe2806 [POEM] The Moon by Emily Dickinson

submitted by RayMe2806 to Poetry [link] [comments]

2024.05.20 20:55 Little_BlueBirdy Chance encounters

Chance encounters
In a corner of the bar, a man sat hunched over his glass. The amber liquid swirled as he traced its rim with his finger, lost in thought. The room buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses, but he remained detached, cocooned in his solitude.
His name was Henry, and the wrinkles etched on his face told stories of years gone by. His eyes, once bright with dreams, now held a distant gaze. The bar was his refuge—a place where memories and regrets mingled freely.
Henry’s mind wandered through the labyrinth of his past. He recalled the love he had lost—the way her laughter echoed in the summer breeze, the warmth of her hand in his. But life had a cruel way of unraveling dreams. She had slipped away like sand through his fingers, leaving him with an ache that never healed.
The bartender, a grizzled man with a perpetual scowl, approached. “Another whiskey, Henry?”
Henry nodded, the glass meeting his lips like an old friend. The liquid burned, numbing the ache within. He wondered how many nights he had spent here, drowning in memories. The faces around him blurred—a blur of strangers, each with their own burdens.
As the night wore on, Henry’s thoughts grew darker. He pondered the roads not taken—the missed opportunities, the chances forsaken.
Regrets hung heavy, like the smoke that clung to the ceiling. What if he had pursued that art career? What if he had forgiven his estranged brother? What if he had held on a little tighter?
The jukebox played a melancholic tune, and Henry’s mind danced to its rhythm. He thought of the stars—their distant glow mocking his insignificance. Life had slipped through his grasp, leaving him with regrets and empty glasses.
And then, unexpectedly, a voice cut through the haze. “Mind if I join you?”
Henry looked up. A woman stood there, her eyes kind and curious. Her name was Emily, and she carried her own scars. They talked—their words weaving a fragile bridge across the chasm of loneliness. For a moment, the bar ceased to exist, and it was just two souls sharing their stories.
As dawn approached, Henry walked Emily home. The streets were quiet, and the weight of his past seemed lighter. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for redemption. Perhaps the bar wasn’t his refuge anymore—it was a crossroads
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2024.05.20 20:17 DiscoverDurham Things to do in Durham this week!

If you’d like to add an event to our calendar, submit an event here. Please check with the event organizers to see if events change due to weather. Have a great week!
See the full weekly calendar on our website.

Noteworthy Events

The Lion King at DPAC
Durham Bulls vs Memphis at Durham Bulls Athletic Park
The Patio Dance Parties : Clueless Fridays at Unscripted Durham
Taste of Soul NC at Durham Central Park
Durham Underground Market at Durham Central Park
Sweet Tea: A Sunday Tea Dance Presented by Stormie Daie! at The Velvet Hippo Bar & Lounge

Multi-Day Events

Historic Buildings Open House at West Point on the Eno Park
Movies at The Carolina Theatre

Monday, May 20

9:30 a.m.
Discovery Paddle at Eno River
2 p.m.
Board Game Night at The Glass Jug in Downtown Durham
5 p.m.
Arts & Drafts at Fullsteam Brewery
6 p.m.
Disc Golf Putting League at The Glass Jug in RTP
6:30 p.m.
Silent Book Club at DSSOLVR Durham
Trivia Night at Ponysaurus Brewing Company
7 p.m.
We Still Skating Adult Skate Class at Durty Bull Brewing Brewing Company
Community Board Game Night at Moon Dog Meadery
8 p.m.
Monsoon at Rubies on Five Points

Tuesday, May 21

Events at Boxyard RTP
Events at Durty Bull Brewing Brewing Company
Events at The Glass Jug Beer Lab in Downtown Durham
Events at The Glass Jug Beer Lab in RTP
5:30 p.m.
Thomas Taylor's Third Tuesday Jam: The Music of Dizzy Gillespie at Sharp 9 Gallery
6 p.m.
Queer Talent Show at Arcana
Pints & Pups at Ponysaurus Brewing Company
Bring Your Own Vinyl with Jaffar at Rubies on Five Points
Dancing With The Carolina Stars Fundraiser at The Carolina Theatre
Women on the Wall at Triangle Rock Club - Durham
6:30 p.m.
Trivia at Durham Food Hall
6:35 p.m.
Durham Bulls vs Memphis at Durham Bulls Athletic Park
7 p.m.
Trivia at Beer Study Durham
King Trivia Tuesdays at Boxcar Bar + Arcade
Not Rocket Science Trivia at DSSOLVR Durham
Tuesday Blues Jam at The Blue Note Grill
7:30 p.m.
Eloquent Soul - Open Mic Night hosted by Dasan Ahanu at Missy Lane's Assembly Room
8 p.m.
Jeremy 'Bean' Clemons Trio at Kingfisher
Julia Holter at Motorco Music Hall

Wednesday, May 22

Events at Boxcar Bar + Arcade
Events at Boxyard RTP
Events at ZincHouse Winery & Brewery
2 p.m.
Film Screening — "Temple Grandin" at Durham County Main Library
3 p.m.
Durham Farmers’ Market at Durham Central Park
Seeing Without Eyes: Walking the Tightrope between Doubt and Belief at Rhine Research Center ~ Online
4 p.m.
Whiskey Wednesdays at Alley Twenty Six
5 p.m.
Free Wednesday Wine Tasting at Beer Study Durham
5:30 p.m.
"Take Tea Like a Bridgerton" Experience at JB Duke Hotel
6 p.m.
Figure Drawing and Tarot with Heiltje at Arcana
6:30 p.m.
Trivia Night with Pickle at The Glass Jug Beer Lab in RTP
6:35 p.m.
Durham Bulls vs Memphis at Durham Bulls Athletic Park
7 p.m.
My Hero Academia TCG Girl Power Prerelease at Atomic Empire
Hammered Trivia at Hi-Wire Brewing
Karaoke Night at Mavericks Smokehouse
Music Bingo at Ponysaurus Brewing Company
Brett Chambers Open Mic at The Blue Note Grill
8 p.m.
Trivia Night at Bull McCabe's
Karaoke at Moon Dog Meadery
Queer Country Night w/ Line Dancing + Country Karaoke at The Pinhook
10 p.m.
World Goth Day All Vinyl Dance Party at Rubies on Five Points

Thursday, May 23

Events at Durty Bull Brewing Brewing Company
12 p.m.
Taking Back Thursday: Mysti Mayhem at Boxyard RTP
1 p.m.
Botany Spotlight: Bamboo at Sarah P. Duke Gardens
Meet the Keepers at Sarah P. Duke Gardens
3 p.m.
Guided Museum Tour at 21c Museum Hotels Durham
5 p.m.
Night Market at American Tobacco Campus
Thirsty Thursdays at Dashi
5:30 p.m.
World Turtle Day Celebration at Piedmont Wildlife Center
Walking Club with Bull City Strollers at The Glass Jug Beer Lab in Downtown Durham
6 p.m.
Dyke Night and Tarot with Rene at Arcana
Dungeons n' Drafts at DSSOLVR Durham
Vinyl Night with DJ Deckades at Gizmo Brew Works
“Rhythms of the Rumba” Dance Class at Washington Duke Inn & Golf Club
6:15 p.m.
Pony Run at Ponysaurus Brewing Company
6:30 p.m.
Line Dance Classes at Mystic Farm and Distillery
Sacred Traditions: Exploring African-Based Spirituality at Nasher Museum of Art at Duke University
Boulders & Brews Meetup at Triangle Rock Club - Durham
DIY Charcuterie Class at Weldon Mills Distillery
6:35 p.m.
Durham Bulls vs Memphis at Durham Bulls Athletic Park
7 p.m.
Trivia Night at Beer Tooth Taproom
Bring Your Own Vinyl Night at Congress Social Bar
Sound Bath at Duke Memorial United Methodist Church
Summer Jazz Jam (Curated by Al Strong) at Missy Lane's Assembly Room
Community Board Game Night at Moon Dog Meadery
Periodic Tables: Beyond HIPAA – Mental Health Apps, Health Data, And Privacy at Motorco Music Hall
7:30 p.m.
Trivia Night with Big Slow Tom at Clouds Brewing Brightleaf Square
8 p.m.
Weekly Single Mingle at Boxcar Bar + Arcade
Trivia at Fullsteam Brewery
Megayacht / Hypnic Jerk at The Pinhook
9:30 p.m.
Karaoke Night at The Tavern

Friday, May 24

Events at Durty Bull Brewing Company
10 a.m.
Tasting at Ten at Counter Culture Coffee
12 p.m.
Co-Working Social at The Glass Jug Beer Lab in Downtown Durham
5 p.m.
Food Truck Friday at The Glass Jug Beer Lab in RTP
5:30 p.m.
Friday Night Live: Emily Musolino at Boxyard RTP
6 p.m.
Jo & Lee Tarot with Emily at Arcana
Friday Night Makes at Durham Arts Council
Yonder at The Blue Note Grill
The Patio Dance Parties : Clueless Fridays at Unscripted Durham
6:35 p.m.
Durham Bulls vs Memphis at Durham Bulls Athletic Park
7 p.m.
Negativland + Sue-C Present "We Can Really Feel Like We're Here" at Motorco Music Hall
Tim Wells & Les Bons Temps — Cajun Dance Party at Succotash Southern & Creole Kitchen
7:30 p.m.
Recital: Spring Star-tacular at Barriskill Dance Theatre School
Members-Only Rose` Party at Missy Lane's Assembly Room
Keith Waters/Jon Metzger Quartet at Sharp 9 Gallery
8 p.m.
Stereo Reveries at DSSOLVR Durham
Karaoke! at Fullsteam Brewery
9 p.m.
Hush Hush at Mettlesome
Leo Album Release Party! at Moon Dog Meadery
Lip Sync 4 Ur Life + PHK Karaoke at The Pinhook

Saturday, May 25

Events at Atomic Empire
Events at Boxyard RTP
Events at Durty Bull Brewing Company
Distillery Tours and Tastings at Liberty & Plenty
Events at Mettlesome
Events at Moon Dog Meadery
Events at The Blue Note Grill
Guided Walking Tours with Triangle Adventures
8 a.m.
Durham Farmers' Market at Durham Central Park
parkrun Durham at Southern Boundaries Park
9 a.m.
South Durham Farmers' Market at Greenwood Commons Shopping Center
9:30 a.m.
Women's Introduction to Standup Paddleboarding at Falls Lake
10 a.m.
Party for the Planet at Museum of Life and Science
Flower Portraits at Sarah P. Duke Gardens
12 p.m.
Crafternoons at Gizmo Brew Works
3 p.m.
Taste of Soul NC at Durham Central Park
4 p.m.
Mystic Medieval Knights at Mystic Farm & Distillery
5 p.m.
Opening Reception - Renzo Ortega "Acts of Serenity" at Craven Allen Gallery
6 p.m.
Tarot with Heiltje at Arcana
Doodle Jam at Lonerider Distillery and Taproom
6:30 p.m.
Blackhawk Quintet at Missy Lane's Assembly Room
6:35 p.m.
Durham Bulls vs Memphis at Durham Bulls Athletic Park
7 p.m.
The Lofi Lounge at American Underground
7:15 p.m.
Sunset Float at Falls Lake
7:30 p.m.
Full Moon Fever Bike Ride at American Tobacco Trail
Recital: Spring Star-tacular at Barriskill Dance Theatre School
MOSS: Theo Bleckmann, Peter Eldridge, Lauren Kinhan, Jo Lawry, Kate McGarry at Sharp 9 Gallery
9 p.m.
Blackhawk Quintet at Missy Lane's Assembly Room
Boston 168 at The Fruit
10 p.m.
House of Black Dance Party at The Pinhook

Sunday, May 26

10 a.m.
Jazz Brunch at Lula & Sadie's
10:30 a.m.
Al Strong Presents Jazz Brunch at Alley Twenty Six
11 a.m.
Durham Underground Market at Durham Central Park
12 p.m.
One Piece TCG Tournament at Atomic Empire
Sunday Dollar Bin Sale for Charity at Rumors Durham
Farmers Market at ZincHouse Winery & Brewery
12:15 p.m.
Public Tour at Duke Chapel
2 p.m.
Soul Sunday w/ DJ Soul at Congress Social Bar
Hammered Trivia with Casey at Durty Bull Brewing Company
Hillandale Golf Beginner Clinic at Hillandale Golf Course
4 p.m.
IAR Adopt-a-Dog Fundraiser at Boxcar Bar + Arcade
Sweet Tea: A Sunday Tea Dance Presented by Stormie Daie! at The Velvet Hippo Bar & Lounge
5:05 p.m.
Durham Bulls vs Memphis at Durham Bulls Athletic Park
6 p.m.
Ann Arader and Tarot with Rene at Arcana
6:30 p.m.
Open Mic Night at Moon Dog Meadery
8 p.m.
Beloved Presents: Innerworlds at Rubies on Five Points

Running Art Exhibits

Constellations: 40 Years of Explorations within Sacred Geometry by Steven Ferlauto at Horse & Buggy Press and Friends
Cameron Elyse's Divine Nine Legacy Memoir Exhibition at Hayti Heritage Center
It Ain’t All Black And White at DAG Truist Gallery
María Magdalena Campos-Pons: Behold at Nasher Museum of Art at Duke University
Ley Killeya: Solitary Women at 5 Points Gallery
Counterpoints at Durham Bottling Co.
submitted by DiscoverDurham to bullcity [link] [comments]

2024.05.20 04:24 Old_Test7247 Scamily & Amy live

Scamily & Amy live
I peeped for a minute but could not stand their voices so I bailed. Emily, your boobs are humungous 🥴 why is it that a lot of lds women (talking specifically in Utah and don’t come at me because I live in Draper and yes, every snotty lds woman I know through friends all have massive boobs after their boob jobs plus their butthole lips and god knows what else) want this big boobs look? I don’t get it.
submitted by Old_Test7247 to SkallaSnarkUncensored [link] [comments]

2024.05.19 01:46 JoeMorgue I got trapped on an Alpine Coaster for hours.

You guys know what an alpine coaster is? They are like a small roller coaster you find in the mountains. They are also called summer toboggans or mountain coasters and I think there’s some long German compound word they are called in parts of Europe. They are like a roller coaster, but with much smaller one or two person sleds you just sit on instead of multi-person cars you ride in, and instead of being built with like a scaffolding or a framework the tracks are just on the ground, using the elevation of the mountain. Basically it’s a coaster track on the side of a mountain where you ride a sled down.
They are pretty fun. Or at least I used to think so. They are more “personal” than roller coasters and although you get nowhere near the speed on them that you do on a good traditional roller coaster and they can’t do corkscrews or loops or anything like that the openness and simplicity of the ride gives an impression of a much greater speed. You’re just sitting there with nothing but a little plastic sled and the track between you and the ground as it goes zooming by. It’s like the difference between how fast a go-cart feels compared to how fast a sports car feels. You know the sports car goes faster but the open, simpleness of a go-cart feels a different kind of fast. There’s plenty of POV Youtube videos if you want to get the basic idea of what they are.
I used to love alpine coasters. Used to.
My family used to go to Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge and up and down the Smokey Mountains for vacations when I was a kid and they are common in that area and I’d always rode them every chance I got.
But as with so many things after I grew up and went to college they just became part of my childhood that slipped away. They aren’t exactly common once you get away from the mountains.
Until one cool spring afternoon in 2004. I was in my final year at college and I was driving back to campus in Tennessee after a short visit to my folks in North Carolina. It was only like a 4 or 5 hour drive via the most efficient route and I had no need to be back at campus early so instead of taking the freeway all the way I got off and took part of my trip through the mountains. The scenery was nicer and I admit I liked pushing my Camaro just a little faster than I should through the twisty mountain roads.
Just after lunchtime happened upon one of those little by-the-highway tourist towns deep somewhere in the Smoky Mountains near the Carolina/Tennessee border. Nothing fancy, a gas station/truck stop, a diner, a couple of places selling tourist merch nestled deep in the mountains. I pulled into the gas station. My tank was getting low and I needed to stretch my legs, maybe grab something to eat. It was still early and I only had another couple of hours. I could kill an hour or so and still make it back to campus at a decent hour.
I pulled into the gas station and was filling my tank when I happened to glance across the road and… well I’ll be damned. There it was. “The Blue Ridge Alpine Coaster.” Nestled on the side of the mountain was a building, a mockup of a red barn, where a single railed track that led up into the mountains, where it soon got lost in the greenery. Wooden hand painted standees of cartoon character bears dressed in stereotypical “Hillbilly” getup stood around, some of them holding signs showing the ride hours and ticket costs and other info. I had to admit, as silly as it was, it made me smile.I finished pumping my gas and, well, nostalgia is a helluva thing. I decided then and there I could waste a little time riding an Alpine Coaster again after all these years before getting back on the road.
I parked my car in a corner of the truck stop's parking lot, put my phone in the center console, this being the days before smart phones when people didn’t keep their phones with them 24/7 and I didn’t want my old Nokia brick phone to fall out during the ride, locked my car and walked across the mountain highway to the Alpine Coaster building.
Getting closer, the place was less inviting. The half hearted attempt at a whimsical faux-Americana kitsch was far less effective when it brushed up against the actual decaying, run down wooden building. Hell calling it a building was generous. It was a wood frame holding up a long roof that covered the area where you got on the sleds. The wood boards creaked under my footsteps.
The only real enclosed structure was a shack that held, what I assumed, was a ticket booth. A door on the side had both a single occupancy bathroom with an out of order sign on it. An old Pepsi machine buzzed and glowed next to it.
Still the place looked alive. Ahead of me a bored looking attendant was helping a mother and her young son into one of the sleds while in a bored monotone repeating the safety brief. A few people were waiting in line at the ticket booth. Up in the mountains the playful shouts of people on the ride echoed down. Fond memories of my own childhood rides flooded my mind.10 minutes and 15 dollars later I was settling into the hard plastic seat of a bright red sled sat atop a simple aluminum rail.
I couldn’t help but grin as the sled slowly climbed the track up the mountains, making click-clack ratcheting sounds that hit my nostalgia centers hard. I felt good. The air was cool and crisp and smelled of pine.Higher and higher in the mountains we went. I don’t know if this is my mind trying to make sense of it after the fact but when I remember these moments, the last good moments, I sometimes think I remember a very slight, very subtle pit of fear in my stomach. I honestly don’t know if I felt it at the time or not or it’s just how my mind tries to make sense of it looking back at.
But either way mostly I was enjoying myself. I smiled. I was a kid again. I could hear riders in front of me let out that initial yell of terrified glee you get at the first drop of any good ride.
It peaked. I glanced around. I could see for miles, rolling hills and mountains. I the sled tipped over and zoomed down the mountain and I let out the same happy yell I heard from the other passengers.The ride zoomed down the mountain, catching speed. The mountain forest floor zoomed past, only a few feet under me. Trees zoomed past. I gave out a happy whoop as the ride banked hard around a curve and then looped back under itself.Another dip, another curve. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of the G-forces pulling me every which way.
There was no one exact single moment where things started to go “wrong.” The ride kept going. And going. At this point the first creeping thought entered my head.
The ride… was still going.
It just started to hit me… this ride was going on for a really long time. I had taken a dozen rides on various coasters of this type before that day and they topped out at about 5 minutes or so, and that was the long ones. Longer than a traditional roller coaster but not that long. This one had been going on for what felt like 10, maybe even 15 minutes.
I looked back over my shoulder and could only see trees, moving too fast to really get a bearing on where I was at in relation to anything.
I wasn't exactly really worried yet. Okay so I had found a particularly long alpine coaster. At the time I wasn’t 100% wasn't sure they didn’t exist or anything like that. I was a little… unnerved but nothing was happening that was impossible. Yet.
I was trying to talk myself back into just enjoying the ride and stop overthinking it, and halfway succeeded, when out of nowhere I suddenly banked hard, the track jutting out almost over a sheer cliffside. I gripped the sled more tightly as I was whipped around. The ride then dipped hard and picked up speed, barreling down the side of the mountain.
I was pushed back against the seat by the force of the drop. Jesus I didn’t remember them being this rough. I was feeling slightly nauseous. And where had this elevation drop come from I wondered? I was still in the foothills and I didn’t remember seeing anything but gentle rolling hills and light drops from looking at the ride’s route earlier. How the ride had managed such a long, steep drop in this area I didn’t know. . For the first time I hoped that the ride would be over soon. I had no idea then how much I would want that same hope to be true so much more as time went on.
With a whiplash motion I was whipped forward and then back as the ride leveled out on flat ground again, but by this point I was going fast, too fast. My neck hurt from the mild whiplash and I felt sour in my throat and for a moment the contents of my stomach threatened to come back up. For the first, but hardly the last time the ride felt unsafe. Alpine Coasters are tame affairs, much slower and gentler than full on roller coasters but this thing was throwing me around like no thrill ride I had ever been on.
I looked around. I mean I wasn’t that deep into the woods. I should have been able to see a glimpse of something; the highway, the gas station, the tourist shops, the Alpine Coaster office, something, anything. But nothing. Just trees.
I forced back some panic for the first time. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. The ride zoomed along. I counted to 60. I counted to 60 again. And again. Okay this was getting uncomfortably harder and harder to explain.
Suddenly I noticed that up ahead the track seemed to just end, for one brief, terrible moment I thought the track just ended but I was wrong. Almost without warning the track dipped in an almost vertical drop. I almost screamed as I plummeted for 20, maybe 30 seconds before flattening out again.
By this point the voice in my head that was telling me something was wrong was louder and I could no longer tell myself it was wrong. This ride could not have been this long. I tried to make sense of it, wondering if somehow I had gotten diverted onto some kind of maintenance track or, hell for one brief irrational moment even entertaining the idea that I had wound up on an actual train track somehow. But that was absurd. The rail below me was not a train track, it was still just the simple, aluminum rail of an alpine coaster and there had been no diversions or junctions in the track. I was still on the ride, as insane as that was starting to feel. Had the ride somehow looped? Again after having the thought I immediately dismissed it as crazy. There’s no way I could have missed the ride building where I got on. And what kind of ride loops over and over?
The sled zoomed through the forest, oddly never seeming to lose speed despite the relatively flat grade of the track. I cursed myself for leaving my phone in the car and not wearing a watch. I don’t know exactly how long I had been on the ride at that point but it felt like I had been on the ride for a half hour, maybe more. But time is a funny thing when you’re in a situation you’ve never been in. Could have been more, could have been less, at that point.
My pride finally failed me. I started to scream for help. I screamed out that the ride was broken, to stop it, that I needed help. I did that for about ten minutes or so I think. The ride kept going. Mostly flat, level track with occasional mild dips and turns. But the simple length of the ride grew more and more unnerving and unexplainable.
I thought about just bailing out. But the ride, impossibly, was still not slowing down and chunks of mountain rock and thick tree trunks were all around me. Bailing out without risking smashing into a rock or a tree seemed impossible.
The ride kept going.
Up ahead the forest was clearing out some, I could see the forest brightening, more sunlight making it through the canopy.
I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.
The trees stopped and I had just enough time to take in a flat, open area of rock maybe 40, 50 yards at most before another sheer cliff. The tracks twisted and turned and then shot straight down. But that wasn’t the worst of it. For a moment, a very short moment, I had a clear view for miles and the landscape was, to be blunt, totally impossible. Any possibility that I had just stumbled on some incredibly long ride was blasted out of my head. Barren, volcanic looking rock stretched for miles. Jagged, black rocky outcroppings as far as the eye could see. I was in the goddamn Smoky Mountains. They don’t look like that.
I had a few moments for the terror of that view to settle in before the cart plunged into another horrifying drop. I gripped the handles of the cheap plastic sled until my knuckles turned white. The drop felt completely vertical, like I was falling at terminal velocity. I screamed. My stomach dropped and turned. I imagined the sled coming away from the track and me just plummeting screaming to my death on the rocks below. But somehow the ride still functioned. I closed my eyes tightly and just waited for whatever was going to happen. Eventually after several what felt like a full minute of steep plunging the track again leveled out, and I opened my eyes to see myself moving at breakneck speed over that black, rocky landscape.
Now that I was moving on a more or less flat horizontal track again I took a few deep breaths. I looked over the edge of the track. Nothing but that black, jagged rock, almost looking like obsidian, zooming past. I had no idea how fast the sled was moving now. Fast. Faster than a gravity powered sled should be moving. And the track was higher off the ground now. Alpine slides usually stick pretty close to the ground, but I was 20 feet or so in the air, the track suspended in the air, a simple metal tube tower like a power pylon every few yards.
Without any immediate threat and the sled moving fast but steadily and level I was able to think about my situation again, for all the good that did me. Ahead of me the track just continued to the horizon, nothing but the same rocky landscape as far as I could see. I craned my neck to look back over my shoulder and looked back behind me and it looked the same. Even the mountains were but distant specs on the horizon behind me.
This was insane. There’s not a giant seemingly endless field of black jagged rock in the goddamn Smoky Mountains. There’s no cliff faces tall and steep enough for a multi-minute vertical drop. And alpine coasters were small affairs, not major engineering projects that span miles with pylons and vertical tracks. It made no sense.
Sadly it wasn’t going to start making any more sense anytime soon.
The ride kept going.
I was on this rocky landscape for several hours. I feel comfortable saying this because I could actually notice the sun getting lower in the sky. And the sled wasn’t slowing down despite the grade of the track being flat. I was getting cramped from sitting and stretched my legs and twisted my back as best I could. Didn’t do much help. My eyes were starting to get irritated from the constant wind in them. Worst of all it was starting to get chilly. I only had on a light jacket, a windbreaker, just something to keep the breeze off me, no real insulation. I was cold, my joints were stiff, I was hungry and thirsty. My eyes watered and my throat was so dry it was sore.
But none of that was as bad as just how little sense this all made. There’s nothing like this place anywhere near the Smoky Mountains. This was like some volcanic rock landscape. The more I thought about it the less sense it made.
The ride kept going.
My mind didn’t even try to process this. Whatever I was experiencing simply couldn’t be possible. I was crazy. I was dreaming. The CIA had kidnapped me and dosed me with some new version of LSD and I was in a straightjacket in a padded room at Area 51.
The sled kept zooming along as the sky turned to dusk. Soon the bridge disappeared from my view and I continued on along the endless, rocky, featureless landscape.
I sat back against the sled, mentally and physically numb. I was exhausted. I was thirsty. I was cramping up. I was hungry. I had to pee. I held it for as long as I could, then had no choice but just wet myself. I cried until I had no more tears left. Then I just sat there.
The ride kept going.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon my throat felt like sandpaper. I dug around in my jacket pockets hoping to find a stick of gum or piece of candy. Nothing. I checked again, having nothing else to do. Under a crumpled store receipt in the inner pocket of my jacket was a single old, forgotten cough drop. I unwrapped it from the paper and popped it in my mouth. Saliva flooded back into my mouth and I was overwhelmed by the methanol and medicine taste. It was something at least, although I knew it would be a brief and temporary fix at best.
I felt my eyes get heavy. It was getting colder. That mountain cold. That deep cold the mountains have even into the early spring when the sun goes down. That kind that just pulls the heat right out of you. I shivered. A terrible, horrible certainty came to me. I would ride until I passed out from exhaustion or the hypothermia set in. My body would tumble off the sled to fall and skip across the rocky ground like a stone skipping across a lake, my bones breaking as I tumbled until my body finally came to a stop. If I was lucky I would be killed and not have to lie for days, broken and bruised, on the ground until death took me.
The ride kept going. The ride kept going. The fucking ride kept going.
“Fuck you” I said to the ride, my voice a horse whisper. I pulled my jacket closer around me, for all the good it did. The cold wind was slowly but surely pulling my body heat away. My shivering got worse, crossing the line from a simple normal shiver into those deep, almost violent full body ones.. I wasn’t anything you could call an experienced outdoorsman, but I knew enough to know that wasn’t a good sign.
It was getting dark. There was a full moon at least so I wasn’t totally in the dark.
About then I noticed something. The landscape, what little I could see in the fading light, was changing. It was smoothing out, becoming less rocky and craggy. Up ahead an odd, shimmering light was starting to appear on the ground.
I was over it before I even realized what it was. The tracks were going over a smooth surface.
Water. It was a lake. The odd lights I had seen were the moon, reflected in ripples on the lake.
Within minutes I was out of the view of the land. After the nearly endless rocky landscape and everything else I had seen, it scared me how little I was shocked. I didn’t like how mentally numb I was getting. I leaned over. There was enough moonlight to see the water, 15 or 20 feet below the track. The pylons holding up the track went into the water, the light wasn’t good enough to even make a guess at how far they went down or how deep the water was.I leaned back in the sled. My eyes were red and bloodshot from the constant wind. I closed them. This was a mistake.I jerked awake. I don’t know if I dozed off for a split second or an hour. My weight had shifted and I caught myself as my center of gravity was in danger of sending me off the sled and into the water.
I screamed in anger. A deep primal scream. I hurt so bad. My joints felt like they were full of glass. My limbs were full of pins and needles. I glanced over at the water. For the first time on the very edges of my brain a tiny voice started to speak up, telling me that I could be all over if I just jumped. I shut the voice up, but it scared me still.
I sat there as the ride went on. It felt like hours. Eventually the lake ended in a rocky shore line. The damned ride. There was no safe place to bail out. If the ride slowed down, it was high in the air, if it moved toward the ground it sped up. Sharp rocks, big trees, nothing you could safely bail out into.
I kept having to force myself awake. I kept dozing off. Once I felt myself falling asleep and drove a vicious uppercut into my own nose to stave it off.
I seriously started to think about how much longer I could hang on. The voice came back again. This time I didn’t shut it up. I wasn’t admitting it to myself yet, but I was starting to think about the best way to land that would end it quickly if I needed to.
Something was ahead. The track seemed to dip into the ground. I was too tired, too beaten to even get scared. I was just resigned to whatever happened at this point.
With little warning the track took my sled into a tunnel in the ground. Everything went completely pitch black. After several moments even the dim moonlight was gone.
This was the worst part. The creepy forest, the immense rocky landscape, the eerie lake… those were bad. But this was just nothing. Nothing to look at, nothing to hear, nothing for reference or sense of where I was going. The walls of the tunnel felt like they were inches from me in every direction. The air felt thick, like there wasn’t enough oxygen.
With every moment I was in that tunnel I lost a little more hope. After a long, long time I made a decision. When I got out of this tunnel, I would jump. I didn’t care anymore. Hopefully there would be a spot where I could be certain the fall would instantly kill me. I was done. The ride had beaten me. I sat there, waiting for a chance to end this on my terms. That was all I had left.
Eventually up ahead, a tiny speck of light appeared. I gathered my strength, ready to end it. I sat up, getting my legs under me so I could jump as soon as we were clear. The sled burst out of the tunnel. The dim light of the full moon was enough to be momentarily blinding after the pitch black of the tunnel.. I gave my eyes a moment to adjust.
I was back in a normal looking Appalachian forest. Rolling hills, green trees. The air smelled of pine again. I heard an owl hoot off somewhere.
Slowly I lowered myself back into a setting position, in shock. At first I refused to believe it but the ride was slowing down. I held still, making sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me, but no, the cheap plastic sled that had been my world for what felt like an eternity was slowing down.
Up ahead, a structure was visible, peeking out from among the trees in the dim lighting as the sled moved down the track.
It was the Alpine Slide building. The crappy fake red barn where I had boarded this cursed ride so long ago. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, sure it was either my mind or the cursed ride playing tricks with me. But the building stayed there.
It grew closer and closer. The track leveled completely out. The sled slowed down more. Before I had the time to really come to terms with it I arrived back at the building.
The sled slowed to a stop, gently pumping against another sled parked on the track. I sat there for a few moments, gasping in great big gulping fear breaths, trying to assure myself the ride didn’t have one last trick of its sleeve.
I looked around. The place was empty, deserted. The overhead lights were still on and the old Pepsi machine still glowed and buzzed, but the ticket booth was dark and empty, a metal gate pulled down over the ticket window.
Suddenly it hit me that I was free and I practically leapt out of the sled and onto the platform. I immediately collapsed. My legs were jelly and my head was spinning. I tried to stand up again and doubled over, dry heaving. Have you ever been out on a boat for a day and have that weird reverse motion sickness when you’re back on solid land? It was like that times a hundred. My inner ear was literally pounding, all the motion had really done a number on it.
I laid there for a few moments and eventually forced myself to stand up on my two wobbling legs. I looked around, a horrible certainty creeping into my mind that there would be no exit, no way off the platform but to my relief an exit turnstyle, one of those full height ones, was set into the fence that surrounded the ride property.
I went through it and found myself back on the main road. The truckstop was still there, still open but far less busy. My car sat in the same corner of the parking lot I had left it.
I allowed myself one look back, just one quick one. The metal skeleton of the Alpine Slide track sat there, dark and quiet but otherwise normal.
I stumbled-ran back to my car, dug the keys out of my pocket, and collapsed inside. When the door shut I let out a primal scream, the tons of fear and confusion and anger all fusing into a single, raw emotion. I screamed again and again.
After a few moments I felt like I was emotionally at least back to a place where I could act, although I wasn’t sure yet what to do next. Not really knowing what to do I cranked the car. The A/C had been on low when I shut off the car and it came roaring back to life and cold air blowing on me almost sent me back into a full on panic attack. I fumbled with the climate controls until the air stopped blowing directly on me, then calmed down enough to turn the heat on, helping to get the chill out of my bones. There was a half full bottle of water in the center console cup holder and I grabbed it and chugged it. Nothing ever tasted as good before or sense as that few ounces of water.
That was when I noticed the clock on the radio head unit. It was 4:17 in the morning. It had been about one, one thirty or so in the afternoon when I got on the accursed ride.
Over 15 hours. I had been on the goddamn ride for over 15 hours. Over half a day.
I just sat there. Warming up. Calming down. I was exhausted. I was dehydrated. I can’t even describe how my head felt. I probably had at least a minor case of hypothermia. I thought about going into the gas station and asking for help but what would I even say, and more than anything I just wanted to get away from this place. And I just wanted to get away. I wanted to be nowhere near that damn ride.
I put the Camaro in gear and pulled into the street and in panic I immediately slammed on the brakes. I was lucky there was no traffic on the road at that moment. The feeling of accelerating to just normal surface street speeds made me sick to my stomach. I gathered myself and very slowly accelerated the car I usually treated with a very heavy foot up to 30 miles an hour. Every time I tried to accelerate at a pace faster than “Old Lady Going to Church, Uphill” I would have a panic attack. I was okay once I was up to speed, but accelerating freaked me out after being on that ride.
I drove about 30 minutes, putting some arbitrary amount of distance between myself and the coaster. Eventually I made it back to where the twisty mountain road met back up with a major road that would eventually meet back up with the highway. After a few more minutes of driving I saw the onramp for the highway. There was one of those big truckstop travel plazas and pulled in, parking right up at the door. I smelled like pee and I can only imagine how I looked, but I didn’t care.
I kept a couple of emergency 20s in the back of my wallet and spent it on the biggest bottle of water the store had, an overpriced bottle of eye drops, and a huge travel mug of coffee. The clerk looked at me as if he was expecting me to either drop dead or rob him the entire time.
Back in my car I downed the coffee. I put a few eye drops in each of my eyes and sat there as the caffeine took effect until I felt like I could make it back to my apartment. The sun was just coming up when I finally pulled out of the truck stop and got on the freeway. I slowly, very slowly, accelerated up to highway speed, put the Camaro in cruise control, and let the miles start to drift away. I turned on the radio, I needed to hear human voices. Every time my mind went back to what had just happened I turned the radio up louder, eventually drowning it out with painful levels of rock music. I wasn’t ready to think about it yet. Yes looking back I know I was just in denial. I finally made it back to the crappy little apartment I had off campus, a little two story walk up studio. I let myself in and collapsed on the cheap couch. I was asleep before I even had the time to decide whether or not to do anything else. I woke up later that afternoon. I took a shower and ate a meal and didn’t think about the ride. I washed the pee stained filthy clothes I had been wearing and didn’t think about the ride. I went back to class and didn’t think about the ride. Every time I thought about the ride I forced it out of my head. I’m sure this wasn’t the most mentally healthy thing to do but what can you say?
I didn’t forget about it, don’t be silly. This isn’t the kind of thing you forget. One day while looking up something else in the university’s library my curiosity got the better of me and I looked up the Alpine Slide. No website but a few Google Map and Yelp mentions. None of them mentioned anything weird, certainly nothing even remotely like what I experienced. Near as I can tell it closed sometimes in the winter of 2012.
Life went on. I mean, that’s what it does. The next day was a little better. And the day after that a little better. And the day after that a little better still. I met a nice girl. Graduated. Got married. Got a nice house in the suburbs. Got a dog. Had a daughter. Spent a lot of time happy and not thinking about being trapped on an endless alpine coaster.And that was my life for many, many years after that.
Until a few weeks back when as a very different person I found myself driving a boring and safe mid sized family SUV through those same mountains. My wife Carol, 5 months pregnant, sat in the passenger seat, our 6 year old daughter Emily in a booster seat in the back, and Max our mixed breed mutt next to her. It had been a nice pleasant trip, driving back from visiting her folks.
I hadn’t thought about that fucking ride in so long I barely registered that I was in the same general area until it was too late. Suddenly I realized that little mountain tourist trap town was only a few minutes down the road. I swallowed hard and gripped the steering wheel hard. Carol was looking out the window at the scenery and Emily was deep into some kid’s Youtube video on an iPad. I forced myself to keep my breath steady as we rounded the corner.The town was still there, sorta. Time had not been kind to it. The gas station was still there, at some point it had been bought out by Shell. The tourist trap shops were still there. One of them was now a vape shop. The diner was closed, the building looking like it sat unused for a long time.
But of course that’s not what I cared about. A looked over at the site where the Alpine Coaster once stood. It was gone. The kitschy fake barn was gone. The site was just a bare concrete slab with a chainlink fence around it. Faded “no trespassing” and “for sale” signs hung off the fence. A pile of old, decaying lumber that might have once long ago been part of the structure covered part of the old lot. No sign of the track remained outside of some old concrete support posts dotting the side of the mountain.
I exhaled out a breath I hadn’t even realized I had been holding in. Soon the little town disappeared in my rear view mirror.
About a half hour later we stopped for gas. I pulled up to a gas pump across from a massive motorhome. Max stuck his head out the window and started barking at a little white dog, a toy breed of some kind, in the window of the motorhome. Carol and Emily immediately headed into the store to restock on snacks while I fueled up.
I stood there, a half smile on my lips as Max barked and wagged his tail in an attempt to attract the attention of the other dog while I filled up the tank, said dog doing an admirable job of ignoring him.
Right about the time I finished fueling up and cleaning the bugs off the windshield Carol returned from inside the store, Emily in tow, arms filled with two full sized bags of Salt and Vinegar Potato Chips and what looked to be a half dozen individually wrapped pickles.
I raised an eyebrow at the collection of food but knew better than to question a pregnant woman's snack choices.
“Should we take Max for a quick walk?” Carol asked. The travel plaza had a nice little gated dog walking area off to the side.
“Yeah probably not a bad idea, he’s been cooped up in the car for a few hours.” I said. Max, upon hearing his name and the word “walk” , forgot about the other dog and upgraded from wagging his tail to wagging his entire body while making whining sounds and staring right at me.
About this time I became half aware that the big motor home next to us was pulling away. I didn’t think much of it, outside of doing a quick automatic mental check to make sure Emily was well clear of the moving vehicle, but she was safely between me and our SUV, well out of the way.
But that was when Emily looked behind me and cheerfully yelled “Daddy look a roller coaster! Can I ride the coaster?”
It’s cliche as fuck I know but my blood went cold.
I turned around slowly, certain in my knowledge that terrible old decrepit Alpine Coaster would be there, having just popped into existence to trap me again.
That.. is not what I saw. Sure enough there was a coaster there, one I hadn’t noticed earlier because it had mostly been blocked by the motor home, but there it was. It was even an Alpine Coaster.
But it was not the same coaster I had encountered those years ago. That was immediately obvious. It was a small but modern and newish looking setup with neon lights and a bunch of people. There was an actual building where you bought tickets and a little snack stand.
“Daddy! Can we go on the coaster!” Emily asked again.
My mouth made motions but no words came out. I glanced over at Carol, hoping she’d say we didn’t have time but to my horror she smiled and said “You know what? That does sound like fun. Daddy will take you while I take Max for a walk.”
My mind raced, trying to think of a way to get out of it. But Emily was already dragging me across the parking lot to the entrance.
I patted my pocket, making sure my phone was in it. Every fiber of my being was screaming to run away. I slept walked through the line and the ticket booth while Emily bounced happily.
We got into a two seat plastic sled. This one was actually a lot nicer than the one my mind wouldn’t stop thinking about. It had two nice cushioned seats, big grab handles, even a nice rollbar.
The sled started up the track. I fought back the panic. I swerved my head around, keeping the building in my view. I was terrified of losing sight of it. We made it to the top and Emily did a happy squeal as we started down the side of the mountain.
My heart raced. Any second, any second my mind told me we’d lose sight of the building and then the ride would never end. The ride sped down the mountain. My mind tortured me with thoughts of not only going through it again, but seeing Emily go through it. The ride went around a big, banking turn. Emily kept shouting happily. How long before Carol reported us missing I wondered? Could I keep Emily calm? What if it lasted even longer this time? What if this time it never ended?
And then we were back at the start of the ride. The same attendant who had helped us into the sled was helping Emily out. I stepped out. The attendant gave me a brief look but said nothing. I guess I looked a little wild eyed.
I was fine. Emily was fine. It had been a perfectly normal, fun ride.
“That was fun Daddy! Thank you!” Emily said. I forced a smile back. “It was fun.” I responded, hoping like I sounded like I meant it.
I took Emily’s hand and we walked back to the car. Max saw us coming and barked happily. Carol looked up from the pint of Ben and Jerry’s she had somehow acquired and added to her snack collection while we were gone and smiled at us.
“Did you have fun?” she asked.
“It was so fun Mommy!” Emily said.
Carol smiled down at her, but then looked at me and frowned. “Are you okay?” Carol could read my face a lot better than the attendant could. “You’re pale.”
I smiled and this time the smile felt real. “Ya know what. Yeah, I think I am okay.”
Carol looked a little puzzled, but didn’t press it. We loaded Emily back in her booster seat, stopped Max from trying desperately to eat half a discarded gas station hot dog off the ground and got him back in the car. Carol and her small collection of snack food took her place in the passenger seat and I got in the driver's seat.I smiled. I cranked the car. I put it in gear. I pulled out of the gas station and back on the road, this time accelerating just a little faster than I had in years.

submitted by JoeMorgue to nosleep [link] [comments]

2024.05.18 19:24 Fickle_Shift_4077 Great drops & alternative sounding electronic list.

If you love this type of style where your like "wtf was that drop is's so f**king good and different", check out some of these songs as they have similar "wtf/awesome/mad drops".
Just copy the line of the song and youtube will just find the song (sorry I have not tailored this to spotify) :
Pendulum - The Island - Pt. I (Dawn) [Skrillex Remix]
RÜFÜS - Innerbloom (What So Not Remix)
Illusionize & Shapeless - TIME (I have a feeling you will love this, melty nights and completely gooey!)
Chase & Status - Don't Be Scared (Official Music Video) ft. Takura AC Slater - Bass Inside Wolfgang Gartner & Kill The Noise - Battlestations (F**KING AWESOME AND FUN TRACK! MY SECRET WEAPON TO SHOW PEOPLE!) Don Diablo - People Say ft. Paije Don Diablo - Head Up ft. James Newman GTA - Red Lips feat. Sam Bruno (Skrillex Remix) Loopers - I'm Heavy Mumbai Power (feat. Beam)-Skrillex SCARY MONSTERS & NICE SPRITES (KASKADE REMIX) - SKRILLEX (Just wait for the drop man, it's great and you probably won't have heard it before!) Skrillex, Noisia, josh pan & Dylan Brady - Supersonic (My Existence) Crystal Castles - Not In Love ft. Robert Smith of The Cure Lane 8 - Is This Our Earth? RL Grime - Core Getter - Head Splitter Dog Blood - BREAK LAW Danny L Harle & DJ Danny - On A Mountain (Flume Remix) Flume - Slugger 1.4 [2014 Export.WAV] Knock2 - dashstar* Shotgun Radio - A Bad Place (feat. Mimi Page) (Minnesota Remix) (My favorite track for years!) Chris Lake - I Want You (Just wait for the drop.) Knock2 - dashstar* (VIP) [NIGHTMODE] LOOPERS - I'm Odd Knock2 - REWiND [NIGHTMODE] Skrillex, Missy Elliott, & Mr. Oizo - RATATA Sibewest - Deprived Flume - Go Skrillex & Mr. Oizo - RATATA (KREAM Remix) ft. Missy Elliot (KREAM is killa, check them out. A lot of their stuff is signature sound). ANYMA X GRIMES – WELCOME TO THE OPERA (I know the Anyma synth plucks are going around at the moment but if you haven't heard this sound design it would still be mind tingly.) Tobiahs - Lifetime Martin Garrix - Animals (Of course! ;) )
For songs that have different alternative sounding drops which aren't as insanely different from what you usually hear but are still different sounding drops which are great check out:
Seven Lions - Isis Vicetone - Nevada (feat. Cozi Zuehlsdorff) Birdy Nam Nam - "Goin' In (Skrillex "Goin' Hard" Mix)"
Tchami - "Adieu" OFFICIAL VERSION
Martin Garrix & Troye Sivan - There For You (Official Instrumental) (The original is still "f**king dope! too! Marty has often unique sounding songs and pretty much made his own style of sound!)
Martin Garrix & Dua Lipa - Scared To Be Lonely (Official Instrumental) (Dua was kinda gaining popularity but i feel this was the song that really skyrocketed her into the limelight, the original with her lyrics is still so good!)
Tchami - Shot Caller (Badass madness!)
Lights & Music · Cut Copy (Awesome track, classic for me growing up and just decent for the time it came out!) Martin Garrix & Mesto - Limitless
Nero - Reaching Out
Martin Garrix & Brooks - Quantum
Martin Garrix & Zedd - Follow (F**king great track! Take risks my friend! ;) )
Flume - Say It (feat. Tove Lo) (Illenium Remix) David Guetta, Martin Garrix & Brooks - Like I Do
Bondax - Gold (Snakehips Bootleg) (More chill and not so party party but awesome drop!) Brooks & GRX - Boomerang (GRX is Martin Garrix's alternate stage name.) Martin Garrix & Florian Picasso - Make Up Your MindWarriors Dance - The ProdigyFuji Opener (feat. Alvin Risk)TroyBoi - Do You?Dog Blood - Next OrderOops · Martin Garrix Dimitri Vegas & Like Mike vs. W&W – Arcade (Extended Mix) Savant - Living iPod (Definitely going to love or hate it but it's fun, especially if your a major gamer like me!) Mr FijiWiji - Let The Sky Fall Down Martin Garrix & Jay Hardway Dua Lipa - Don't Start Now (PØNTES Remix) (Awesome, awesome remix and you won't have heard it!) Knock2 - dashstar* (Yellow Claw Trap Edit) [NIGHTMODE] Knock2 - Are U Feelin Me (Ft. DEV) [NIGHTMODE] Shadow Lady · Portwave GRADES - King
For songs which i've come across which are so different from what you'd usually hear but are a complete vibe because they arent "typical sounding" (not saying anything's right or wrong) these are great:
nekoi- exist (Don't be a peeping teemo!) Deadmau5 - Pomogrenate (Original Instrumental)
BICEP ATLAS BICEP OPAL (FOUR TET REMIX)
BICEP APRICOTS (This is really, really different but a phenomenal track. Just be in a good mindset because it's a fricking intense track but really dope!) DJ DIFFERENT - Angels
RITCHRD - PARIS (make sure to check it out on "yotsu"' youtube channel as it's got a cool anime clip!) San Holo - bb u ok? (Drop's great and it's different! Good vibes.)
Kendrick Lamar - HUMBLE. (Skrillex Remix) (I don't listen to rap and i f**king frothed this for ages!)
RL Grime, What So Not, and Skrillex - Waiting
RL Grime x Utada Hikaru - Simple To Know [Flipboitamidles Mashup] (Just a feel good song. Your gonna like it or not!)
Deadmau5 & Kaskade - I Remember (Mr FijiWiji Remix/Cover ft. Laura Brehm)
Guy Gerber - What To Do (&ME Remix)
BICEP JUST
BICEP GLUE
BICEP MELI (II) (Live at Love Saves The Day)
Gemini - Fire Inside (Mr. FijiWiji Remix)
The Presets - My People
BICEP SAKU (FEAT. CLARA LA SAN) RL Grime - Pressure Mitch Murder - The Touch Knock2 - SPEAK up! Mt. Wolf - Life Size Ghosts (Catching Flies Remix)Jonas Mantey - Frei Tom Day - Going Home Fracx - In Your Memory Hotline Miami 2: Wrong Number Soundtrack - Run
Parallel Universe · Franky Wah
&ME - The Rapture Pt.II
Keinemusik (Rampa, Adam Port, &ME) - Muyè
Danger - 0:59 Danger - 6:24 (from Furi original soundtrack)
Danger - 7:53 (from Furi original soundtrack)
Marie Davidson - 'Work It (Soulwax Remix)' (Hilarious track, defs different.) Lacchesi & Mac Declos - Give It To Me (Nelly X-Rated Edit) Ytram & Citadelle - Alive &ME, Black Coffee - The Rapture Pt.III (Also check out Pt.1 & Pt 2. for &ME) Amanati x Roniit - Slow (Oh lover lover!) Phelian - Liturgy (F**king love this track! So good for introspection at night!) Artist's I really, really love as personal preference that are so good:
SIBEWEST // Because of you (F**king love this guy, he's so damn good and so my jam!)
Kazukii // Pull
Kazukii - Need
Grimes - So Heavy I Fell Through the Earth (I love this track and grimes has really grown on me slowly and slowly. If you don't know who the artist is it was Elon Musk's most recent wife (you know the richest guy/might still be the richest guy in the world! The comment that i just saw checking it now about the track is: "just learned that this song is about Grimes being pregnant “It’s about getting pregnant,” she said. “The sort of tragedy of agreeing to it, even though it’s this great thing. For a girl, it’s sacrificing your body and your freedom. It’s a pretty crazy sacrifice and only half of the population has to do it.”"
Please, Stay-Matthieu Faubourg KAZUKII // Return Nero - The Thrill Monrroe Ft. Emily Makis - Never Too Old Arle - Close To You (Icarus Edit) Carpenter Brut - Paradise Warfare (Pretty awesome track, Carpenter Brut is great but dark and intense. Really suggest you play this for yourself instead of randomly showing it to someone. Could put them in a bad headspace if they are tripping bells. You will know what I mean by the end of the track!) Le Matos - Montrose (Le Matos are one of my all time favorites, incredibly underrated going by what you see on youtube!)
Kashuks - Universe
Mononoid - Protoplasm (Original Mix)Moby -- After (Drumsound & Bassline Smith Remix)
Banks - Warm Water (Snakehips Remix) Third ≡ Party - Without You (I love this track, makes me feel so good and the statues are so deep! Look up the burning man wire adult and children statues with the adults with the kids inside!) Kazukii - Tension Franky Wah - Love Me (Official Audio) (Extended Mix) Kaneki サウンド - Evening With U Neon Indian - Polish Girl (Indie electronic more so but still great, loved this back in the day!) Amelie Lens - Hypnotized (My favorite techno artist! So good!) Franky Wah - Cry No More (Audio) Grimes - New Gods Skrillex - The Reason Skrillex - Leaving Skrillex & Wiwek - Killa ft Elliphant
Mr FijiWiji - Sentry (Great song with unique sound design though a bit sad sounding. Love to Wiji my Fiji!) Awesome - The Bloody Beetroots
ARTBAT, Shall Ocin feat. braev - Origin Golden Features - 'Touch (feat. Rromarin) (F**CKING SO GOOD AND STILL UNSEEN! OMG FAVORITE TRACK PROBABLY OF ALL TIME!) Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites (Blueshift's Synthwave Cover) (This is a GREAT COVER if you love the original and synthwave.) Skrillex - Scary Monsters And Nice Sprites (Radar Detector Remix) Katana ZERO OST - Hit The Floor (Extended) UPGRADE-OFFL1NX FISHER - You Little Beauty (SCNDL VIP Club Edit) (Get your filth on son! If you love fishy, guarantee you will love this pure debauchery and raunchery!) Sewerslvt - Mr. Kill Myself Sewerslvt - Pretty Cvnt Sewerslvt - Newlove ZHU - Palm of My Hand Deadmau5 - Aural Psynapse (Mr FijiWiji Remix) Deadmau5 - Strobe (Mr FijiWiji Remix) THE OTHERS' (Radio Edit) TV ROCK Vs Dukes Of Windsor [HQ] (Just wait for the drop mang!) Amelie Lens - Drift Crystal Castles - Baptism M.O.O.N. - 'Hydrogen' (Try not to fry someone with this track.) SebastiAn - Kindercut Sebastian - Tetra NYC Beat (Radio Edit) · Armand Van Helden FKA twigs x Skrillex - Ego Death (Yoseppi's Club Edit)(Pretty much just my favorite parts of the original.) Pizza · Martin Garrix Skrillex - Kyoto (Extended) SKRILLEX - RIGHT ON TIME (12TH PLANET & KILL THE NOISE) Flume ft. Vera Blue - Rushing Back (Ekko & Sidetrack Bootleg) No Time-LastlingsI've Got You · Lastlings Lastlings - I've Got You (Rinzen Remix / Audio) Take My Hand (Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs Sky Remix) · Lastlings Lastlings - Out Of Touch (CRi Remix / Visualizer) Lastlings - False Reactions (X CLUB. Remix / Official Audio) Lastlings - Last Breath (Adult Art Club Remix / Audio) Lastlings - Out Of Touch (Paraleven Remix) Lastlings - Deja VuLions in the Wild - Martin Garrix · Third Party Grimes & i_o - Violence deadmau5 - Monophobia (feat. Rob Swire) [Official Video] Chase & Status - Mixed Emotions SHDOW - Spirit. Heatwave · SBTRKT (This guys amazing!) Pharoahs - SBTRKTWildfire - SBTRKTSo Far Away · Lazerhawk Martin Garrix - Poison Dimitri Vegas & Like Mike vs. W&W – Arcade (Extended Mix) If I Know You (Tom Middleton Remix) · The Presets Sneaky Sound System - It's Not My Problem (Thin White Duke Mix) Netsky - Memory Lane Deadmau5 - Ghosts N Stuff (Nero Remix) Golden Features - Worship Dimitri Vangelis & Wyman X Steve Angello - Payback (Original Mix) Martin Garrix & David Guetta - So Far Away Madeon - Finale (Netsky Remix) RL Grime & What So Not - Tell Me RL Grime - I Wanna Know feat. Daya Lane 8 - Survive feat. Channy Leaneagh (Bit of an Anthem when your going through a rough time!) MALO - March of Progress The Presets - Talk Like That I Will Be Here [Wolfgang Gartner Remix Edit] - Tiësto, Sneaky Sound System Electric Youth - The Best Thing Knock2 - PARANOiD Le Matos - Light Again feat. Electric Youth Le Matos - Sarah Knock2 - gettin' hott MIAMI NIGHTS 1984 - Saved By The Bell Matrix Reloaded Rave (Zion Dance Party) - Aphrodite Mix (Awesome mix, great when your Hiding the bishop"Fluke - ZionPorter Robinson - Language STRLGHT - Where Do We Go Helax - Tell Me, Tell Me Lights & Music · Cut Copy Cristian Collodoro – Temperature Remix Follow The Storm · Gauthier Bloc Party - One More Chance (Alex Metric Remix) Kasbo - I Get You ft. Lizzy Land (Fakear Remix) Stranger - House Party (AC Slater Remix) Ravager · VIME Grum feat. Electric Youth - Turn It Up Mr FijiWiji - You Worry Enough Hidden Face - Cold Night Pendulum - Witchcraft (Rob Swire's Drumstep Mix) Sublab - In My Blood (feat. Mads) Skrillex, PinkPantheress & Trippie Redd - Way Back Alan Braxe, Fred Falke - You'll Stay In My Heart (Instrumental) [2023 Remaster] Something In The Water X Skepta W O L F C L U B - Tears 3DS Internet Settings · マドロスMERCURY Rules - A Little More Love (Bootleg Edit) Womack & Womack - Teardrops (Rules Remix) Rico 56 x Korzana x twofaced. - Strangers [NIGHTMODE] Kavinsky - Cameo feat. Kareen Lomax KAVINSKY - NightcallKavinsky - Zenith (Someone on youtube was saying this is supposed to be the spiritual successor to Night Call)Playtime Is Over by Le Matos - Studio Session for Mondopalooza Danger - 22:41 Portal · Rebuke Doja Cat - Streets (MCG Remix) The Chase (Rebūke Remix) THAT KIND - Here Comes The Rain Again (Nalestar Remix) RÜFÜS DU SOL - On My Knees (Adriatique Remix)
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2024.05.18 09:21 Powermetalbunny A Gift From The Void

The new gift-specific dialogue from the 1.6 update has me absolutely tickled pink! This one especially… I also haven’t practiced my creative writing in a while, and I decided it needed to happen sooner rather than later, so here, have a short story! Sorry if it's boring… I’m a little rusty!
“A Gift From The Void”
It was only yesterday… No one was quite sure where it had come from. There had been a sinister cackling noise ringing through the night air and Abigail had mentioned seeing an unidentifiable shape soaring through the sky during her walk home from the cemetery. The townsfolk gossiped and speculated about what it could have been that evening, but by the next morning they still hadn’t come to any reasonable explanation. It was only yesterday, and yet the entire village seemed to have already put it out of their minds and moved on. The scandal and chatter following the “Anchovy Soup Incident” at the Summer Luau several years back had lasted far longer than this… Even now Sam was still getting sideways glances whenever he got within a 20 foot radius of the soup cauldron, but this just blows over in less than a day? The priorities of small town people were strange.
Things had gone back to that same semblance of backwater, middle-of-nowhere kind of normal, and now the night had become just the same as any other Friday evening. Sebastian was playing a round of billiards with Sam, and while Sam was preoccupied with lining up the cue with his intended target ball, the farmer strolled into the saloon and up to the bar. Heads turned and raised to the newcomer for a moment before returning to whatever it was that had been previously holding their attention. Sebastian caught the sudden flourish of movement out of his periphery, but didn’t pay it much mind. The farmer ordered a coffee and a plate of the night’s special, and struck up a conversation with Gus about a peculiar egg that had materialized in their coop seemingly out of nowhere the night before. Apparently they’d decided to tuck it away into the incubator and wait to see what… if anything hatched from it.
Sebastian had never really been one to eavesdrop, but the wait for Sam to make his move was becoming boring, and sometimes the stories that passed around the saloon on Friday evenings got interesting depending on who all was involved. The story didn’t really go too far into detail. The farmer poked at their food until it had cooled enough to not scald the inside of their mouth, then they took a few bites before bringing up the events of the previous evening. What first started off as a funny story seemed to turn into some deep discussion with Gus about the mysteries of life. Eventually, Willy and Elliott were caught up in the mirth and it turned into a medley of strange tales from faraway lands and once-upon-a-times. Obviously exaggerated sightings of fearsome creatures on a midnight stormy sea, legends of colossal white whales, references to works written by masters of the mystery genre, as well as some from a trashy neo-noir novel or two that had probably been picked up from a bookstore clearance shelf.
Willy stroked his beard and mused about some daring battle between himself and a fish of questionable proportions that seemed to grow larger each time he told the story. Sebastian had heard this one before. The fight over the line had gone on for over an hour before the shadow of the fish rose near to the surface, and just before Willy could land the monster of a catch, it dove below again, taking the whole fishing rod overboard and nearly Willy himself with it.
Elliott gulped down the last few swigs of ale in his tankard, slapped the farmer firmly on the back, snorted and chuckled in an ungraceful yet jolly display that only ever crept out of him when he’d had a bit too much to drink.
“That fish becomes more miraculous each time he talks about it!” Elliott shook his head and smiled as he leaned almost a little too far forward. There was a slight sway to his posture and he tried to straighten his body back in line with the barstool. “To life, and her many little silly tricks of fate, my friends!” he declared. He raised the empty mug, and with his free hand, delicately tucked a few strands of stray hair behind his ear with the tips of his fingers. He rested his elbow back on the bar before he could lose his balance and sighed contently. Elliott’s cheeks were practically glowing red at this point and it was a wonder that he wasn’t slurring his words yet.
“Aye, you’ve all heard my fish story haven’t ye?” Willy chuckled. “How ‘bout the one about the Baba Yaga?” the farmer’s head tilted and they gazed curiously at the fisherman. Willy rested his foot on the crossbar of the barstool, lifted the rim of his hat out of his line of sight, and leaned into the counter. “Some know ‘er as the cannibal witch… others say she’s just a misunderstood haggard ol’ woman who lives alone out in woods or marshes. It’s said she lives a rickety old house that stands on chicken feet, and she likes to lure weary travelers into ‘er home, only to gobble ‘em up once they let their guard down. Apparently she’s especially fond of the taste of children…” He laughed in a hoarse tone and made strange spider-like gestures with his calloused hands as if he were telling campfire stories to a group of kids. The farmer’s nose wrinkled at the outlandish notion of some feral old woman devouring toddlers, and Willy laughed heartily at their reaction. “I think that last part the parents like to add into the story to frighten the little ones. It keeps ‘em from wondering into the forests and swamps alone at night.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes and glanced back to the pool table. He watched the cue ball clack into the twelve before the twelve bounced off the barriers in the corner of the table and rolled slowly to a stop on the felt surface without pocketing. Sam huffed and stood back upright.
“You really aren’t very good at this, are you?” Seb chimed as he returned his full attention to the game at hand. Sam grinned and laughed.
“Nope!”
“Watch and learn….” Sebastian took aim at the cue ball, and after a single firm strike, drove it into the tiny gap between the two and seven. The cue stopped hard, but the two and seven sped to the opposite corners of the foot of the table, each dropping into one of the corner pockets simultaneously. Sam scoffed and paced about the pool room, but looked back over his shoulder just in time to catch Sebastian with a triumphantly cheeky grin on his face. Sam clicked his tongue and lightly thumped the base of his cue stick into the floorboards.
“Show-off…” he mumbled.
Elliott lifted the rim of the empty vessel to his lips, then chuckled again as he noticed the absence of ale and gestured it in Gus’ direction.
“Good sir, my glass is empty and…. I’m a writer!”
“Maybe you should stop for tonight…” the farmer interjected. “You won’t be sober enough to start your next chapter in the morning!” Elliott rolled his eyes and leaned against the bar counter. He tried to give one of his best theatrically exasperated sighs, but when the exhale turned into a case of the hiccups, they knew he was down for the count. He smiled defiantly and tried his best to look dignified through the sudden spasms in his diaphragm and soused thousand yard stare.
“I-am fiiine… ne’re betta’…”
“…..Aaaand, there he goes…” Leah giggled from the end of the bar counter. “It’s like dropping a ton of bricks on a peach.”
“I oughtta’ help the ol’ scallywag home, I s’pose!” Willy groaned as he stood from the bar stool. He smiled as he hoisted one of Elliott’s arms over his shoulders and stood him up from the bar stool. “C’mon you menace… Let’s get ya home before you make a fool of yourself in front of all the lassies!” he chuckled. Sam took a moment to appreciate the situation at the bar counter. He shook his head and laughed, then took another shot at the 12 and missed horribly yet again.
“Easy does it there!” Emily cooed as she cleared away the empty tankard. “Try not to drop him too hard!” Elliott wobbled towards the door as Willy struggled to keep him upright, and just before they stepped out into the lukewarm summer evening, the farmer waved one last farewell and called out to the well marinated dandy-man as he staggered away.
“Nighty-night! Sleep tight, Rapunzel!” they chirped. Elliot responded to the joke by blowing an overly exaggerated kiss over his shoulder and daintily waiving his fingertips at the company in the saloon, then he nearly tripped over himself as he turned back to the path home. A couple of snorts, giggles and guffaws rose up over the music and chatter in the saloon and quickly melted back into the white noise once the moment passed.
Seb looked Sam in the eyes with a determined glare and smirked.
“Eight in the corner pocket….” Seb didn’t have a clear shot, but leaned over the table, reared back the stick and spiked it into the cue ball. It ricocheted from the bumper, side-swiped the eight, and put just enough force into the edge to cause it to spin sideways into the pocket he’d called. Sam laughed and scratched at the back of his head.
“Awwww, man…” he groaned. “You got me again!” Sam leaned against his cue stick and looked over the table before his eyes lit up in anticipation. “How about a best three out of five?” Abigail giggled at Sam’s request as she stretched and leaned back into the sofa.
“Give it up, blondie! He cooks your goose at this game EVERY single time…. You’re doomed.” She teased. “It’s getting late anyways…”
…
It had been almost a month since the odd shape had been spotted flying over town at this point. Seb and Abby had talked in depth about it, and though most of the other townsfolk had come to the conclusion that it had merely been some sort of exotic bird flying out toward the fern islands, Abby was positive she hadn’t been mistaken. In fact she was adamant that the form looked human. She hadn’t seen or heard any wings flapping and the “squawking” sounded more so like the laugh of an old woman than the cries of a bird. The figure seemed to levitate or hover effortlessly and without the use of any physical or mechanical assistance. It was slumped over as if it was curled up or sitting and just…. Floated away.
The long night spent coding and researching the relevant programing issues at the computer, had caused Sebastian to rise late. He was groggy, didn’t have much motivation to bother rolling out of bed, and it was almost noon at this point. He could hear the rain pattering against the roof of the house and the rumble of distant thunder. As lazy as he felt, a smoke sounded pretty good about now. The sound and sight of the ocean on rainy days also had a way of clearing his head and a little stroll would probably do him some good.
He didn’t pass anyone on the way out of the house. Robin was likely at her aerobics club, Maru, at work in the clinic, and who knew where Demetrius was… Out shoving dirt samples into test tubes, or measuring the volume and PH of the current rainfall? As long as he wasn’t dissecting frogs. Out of all of Sebastian’s childhood memories, that was the one that stuck in his head and haunted him. Back then, Maru had only just been born, and while Robin was busy keeping her entertained, fixing her bottle or changing diapers, Seb was wandering the house trying to find something to occupy his time. He’d wandered into his step-father’s study and there on the examination tray was a deceased frog pinned on it’s back, limbs splayed like Da Vinci’s “Vitruvian Man” with it’s belly sliced open. Sebastian had cried and pouted over that for several days and had given Demetrius the silent treatment for even days longer intermixed with spells of arm crossing, head turning and the occasional stuck out tongue and blown raspberry. He cringed at the thought even now.
The hinges creaked as he pushed the front door open and paused. The summer was starting to give way to autumn and the parched ground soaked up the rain and turned loose the pungent, almost overpowering scent of petrichor.
Sebastian flipped the hood of his pull-over around his head and tightened up the drawstrings. He took a moment to smell the aroma of wet grass and earth that drifted through the air and held the fragrance in his lungs as he closed the door behind him.
He began his slow, steady march toward the beach and lost count of his steps after he’d passed the old Community Center. He’d barely noticed the changing of terrain under his feet as he moved almost subconsciously toward the ocean. The raw, muddy dirt paths of the mountain, the crunch of rough stones and shuffle of old, dead pine needles that carpeted the ground… They’d transitioned into the grass and cobblestone of the town plaza at some point, but they all seemed to blend together into “just steps” after a while. His inner thoughts distracted him to the point where he barely paid attention to his surroundings until he felt his footfalls sinking and shifting underneath him, and he knew he’d hit sand. He heaved a deep sigh of the salt air and looked over the horizon as he paced toward the docks.
When the sky was this gray and muted, the color of the sea seemed to take on it’s own jewel-like quality and without the blue sky to draw attention away from it, the eyes of each breaking wave became a splendor to watch. They erupted into columns of aquamarine, sapphire and sodalite laced with the bright, almost pearlescent white of the sea foam before curling over, crashing into the tides and giving way to the next one.
Sebastian came to a stop at the furthest reaching section of the wood panels and straightened up his posture as he groped into his pockets for the pack of cigarettes he’d brought with him. He selected one from the box, tucked it between his teeth and plunged his fingers back into the pocket for his lighter. He curled his left hand in front of his face, to protect the fire from the wind, flicked open the lid and thumbed the igniter. The flint sparked into a flame as it spun and lit up the end of the cigarette to a smoldering red glow. He pulled in a breath and held it for a moment before letting it out and watching the smoke dance away in the wind. It still wasn’t quite as satisfying as that first breath of rain when he’d stepped out of the house. Another sigh escaped Seb’s lips as he stared back at the oncoming crests of seawater and his mind started to drift again.
He imagined the city lights blazing somewhere across the ocean like stars, and thought about starting over somewhere far away. Disappearing, and reappearing somewhere else like a shadow moving through fragments of darkness and light, somewhere where no one knew him. Just vanishing and leaving everything behind. His parents, his sister, his friends… the thought excited him for a moment, before giving way to an intense feeling of regret and sadness. Maybe even a little shame. Having everyone was frustrating, but would having none of them be better or worse? He’d never known anything else. The same friends he’d grown up with, the same smell of the changing seasons in the mountain air, the same four walls of his bedroom, the sound of his sister’s laugh, or the taste of his mother’s cooking… even the way his stepfather overreacted to the littlest things was something he'd grown used to. He took another long breath.
The waves lapped and pounded at the underside of the dock so loudly he couldn’t hear the patter of oncoming footfalls against the wood and he was caught unaware when a sudden presence made itself known.
“Hey.” The start was enough to make him tense up, and he almost tripped over his own feet. Seb whirled around and when he found himself face to face with the farmer, he relaxed again.
“You scared the absolute crap out of me…..” He said as he rolled his eyes. He flicked his thumb against the filter of the cigarette to knock away the ashes and looked over the docks. They were alone.
“Sorry….” There was an awkward moment of silence between the two of them before Sebastian tried to force conversation.
“What are you up to out here?” He asked. He wasn’t really interested in the answer, but felt obligated to return the acknowledgement of his presence. The farmer held up the rod that was firmly clasped in their right hand and gestured to the ocean.
“Fishing!” Seb raised an eyebrow and cocked his head at the response.
“In the rain?” he asked. His tone was almost dismissive. The farmer nodded.
“Willy said that there’s a number of fish that only come out when it’s raining, so I wanted to see what bites.” They began. “Some fish just like it better this way I guess.” There was another long pause. “…and you?”
“Hanging out…” Seb shrugged and adjusted the collar of his hoodie.
“In the rain?” The irony of the retort wasn’t lost on either of them though only the farmer seemed to find it amusing.
“Some people just like it better this way too…” Seb declared as he shifted his posture and crossed his arms over his chest. “I like to come out here where it’s quiet and have some alone time with my own thoughts.” There was a brief moment of guilt when Sebastian realized that he hadn’t actually ever bothered to ask the farmer’s name, but his introverted nature snubbed it out pretty quickly.
“Well, if you’re out here for some alone time, I won’t keep bothering you. I’ll go find a spot to fish and leave you to it.” At least they could take a hint. The farmer turned to leave and Sebastian suddenly regretted the entire conversation. Maybe he came off as cold and bristly? Either way, they hadn’t meant any harm. Just engaging in basic pleasantries. He found himself compelled to say something else just so the conversation wouldn’t end on such a sour note, then the thought of the flying figure and the appearance of the strange egg in the farmer’s coop a while back suddenly popped into his head.
“Wait….” Sebastian flicked away the spent cigarette and stamped it out with the toe of his shoe before he continued. The farmer turned back in his direction. “I was just curious… do you remember what happened a couple of weeks ago? The night that… thing… flew over Pelican Town?” The farmer’s eyes narrowed and they nodded slowly. “That was the night that strange egg just showed up in your chicken coop, right?” The farmer looked bewildered. Seb chuckled soundlessly when he realized that, for at least a moment, he was acting like the epitome of some small town country boy who was nosing into someone else’s business. The farmer was likely confused because they hadn’t spoken to Sebastian about it directly. How could he know about that? They didn’t have to ask before he preemptively put the question to rest. “I was in the saloon playing pool with Sam the night after it happened. I overheard you talking about it with Gus, Willy and uh- …Rapunzel.” He explained. A tiny snort escaped the farmer’s nose as they stifled a laugh and they nodded again.
“Right… I still don’t know where it came from.” They rested the handle of the fishing pole on the dock like a staff or walking stick and looked up at the sky as if they were contemplating something. “I don’t know if the egg had anything to do with the flying figure, or if it was just a coincidence… they did both appear on the same night.”
“Everyone in town says that the flying thing was probably just some weird bird heading toward the islands…” Seb droned. He shoved his hands into his pockets to sooth the chill in his fingers. “If that IS where the egg came from, then maybe it was just a bird…” The farmer briskly shook their head before they answered.
“No, I don’t think so.” They rested a hand on their hip, fidgeted with the line strung through the fishing rod and seemed to gaze off into the distance towards the island in question. “That wouldn’t make sense considering what hatched.” Sebastian’s head snapped upright to meet their gaze. Now this was getting interesting.
“It actually hatched?!” He piped as his eyes widened inquisitively. “What was it?”
“A chicken…. And those can’t fly long distances.” The farmer chortled as they watched Sebastian’s face droop back to some semblance of apathy. He looked mildly disappointed.
“Aww…. Well that’s kind of anticlimactic.” He groaned.
“Yeah, sorry it’s not more exciting than that…” There was a sudden gust of wind and both of them had to brace against the pelting of raindrops that came with it. “It is a pretty peculiar looking chicken, if that makes you feel any better.”
“Really?... How so?” He gazed back at them expectantly and waited for them to go into detail.
“The feathers are jet black and the comb and wattles have a bit of an odd shape to them. The eyes are also bright red, like an animal with albinism and they’re almost reflective in the dark too… like a cat’s eyes.” They paused and rested their hand over the lower half of their face as if they were taking a moment to recall more of the specifics to memory. “And there’s just something about the way it clucks.” They added. “It doesn’t really cluck like a normal hen, but it sounds more like… an echo of a cluck, I suppose.”
“What?....” Sebastian laughed as his expression shifted again. The description of the noise sounded completely ridiculous. Not a cluck, but an echo of a cluck? They may as well have likened it to a phantom voice or the cry of a specter. Something that eluded the range of sounds that most humans would ever have the chance or perception to experience. The farmer lifted their eyes back to Sebastian’s as if they’d suddenly remembered something else.
“She started laying eggs a couple of days ago. They look just like the one that appeared in the coop that night…” They let the fishing pole drop from their hand to the wood planking of the dock and slipped their arm out of the left strap of their backpack. “I actually have one with me if you want to see it….” They slid the other strap off of their shoulder and swung the bag around their right side, letting it come to a rest in front of them as they knelt down. Seb took a few steps closer and stooped to get a better look as they dug through the contents.
They gingerly grasped what looked like a tiny bundle wrapped in a kerchief and began to slowly peel away the corners of the fabric, exposing what was probably the most bizarre looking egg he’d ever seen in his life. It was black and somewhat glossy, unlike the calcified matte shells of most chicken eggs, and the surface seemed to be covered in tiny indents or fissures that exposed flecks of a bright, almost luminescent red underneath. The farmer held the egg out to Sebastian as they stood up straight and nodded, silently offering to let him hold it for a closer look. He gently cupped the egg in his hands, tucked his arms in close to his body and cradled it in his palms like a cautious child trying to hold a hamster. It was heavier than he’d expected it to be, and surprisingly warm.
The color reminded him of magma or hot coals. Something like the intense heat glowing through crackling obsidian after a volcanic eruption or a dying fire. He leaned his head even closer to the egg as he examined the texture of the shell, and his nose wrinkled a bit when he caught the scent. It was sulphurous, and almost earthy smelling, but not overpoweringly so.
“It’s not rotten, is it?” he asked as he gently turned the egg over in his hands.
“See, that’s the strange thing about it. It can’t be…. That egg was just laid this morning.” They explained. “All of the eggs that hen lays have that… little whiff of something burning to them.” The rain was starting to slow up a bit. The farmer thought for a moment and giggled at the notion of what they said next. “I’m not inclined to say that they’re edible either… at least, not to people, and I wouldn’t be keen on being the first one to test that.” Sebastian winced at the thought…and smell, and stifled a laugh.
“Me neither…” He smiled softly when the red speckled pattern caught his attention again. “It does look really cool though!”
He really did have a nice smile. It was kind of a shame that he didn’t let people see it more often. His eyes brightened, and his face looked softer and more approachable, yet also, inquisitive and curious. It was a look of fascination and wonder. Like a kid who’d just discovered dinosaurs and outer space for the first time, or someone who’d just felt their first taste of freedom and didn’t quite know what to do with it. An imaginative or inspired sort of expression.
“Since you like it so much, why don’t you hang onto it?” the farmer beamed.
“Can I?” Sebastian’s eyes lit up again and he gazed back at the farmer with a delighted look on his face.
“Sure! Hens lay eggs every day or so. There’ll be more before long!” they chimed. Sebastian chuckled as he curled his fingers about the egg and sheltered it from the rain.
“Thank you!” He gazed at it for a few moments more as the farmer hefted the rucksack back onto their shoulders and pulled the fishing rod from it’s resting place on the dock. “Hey, this might sound kind of stupid….” He began as he gazed back and forth between the farmer and his new prize… “But, do you think it’ll hatch if I put it under my pillow?” he laughed awkwardly at his own question when he realized how foolish it must have sounded, but was pleasantly surprised when the farmer’s response was more optimistic than he had expected.
“Umm, I don’t know… Maybe! It’s worth a try anyway, and stranger things have happened.”
“Only one way to find out I guess!” Sebastian said smiling in anticipation.
“Good luck! You’ll have to let me know what happens!” They scanned out over the tides as if looking for something before turning back to Sebastian. “I should hurry and find a spot to fish before the rain stops again, but it was really nice talking to you!”
“Yeah, you too!” Seb agreed. “I’ll see you later!” He distracted himself for a moment, making sure the egg was tucked away safe and warm in his hoodie pocket, when he suddenly realized something. “Hey, wait!...” he quickly turned back to where the farmer had been standing just a minute before, but by the time he’d remembered what he’d needed to ask, they’d already trotted too far out of earshot to be able to hear him. “Aw, man… I forgot to catch their name again.” He lamented. “I’ll have to remember to ask them next time… Next time for sure.”
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2024.05.17 13:33 Angel466 [Bob the hobo] A Celestial Wars Spin-Off Part 1013

PART ONE THOUSAND AND THIRTEEN
[Previous Chapter] [The Beginning] [Patreon+2]
Sunday
Lucas tapped the flat of his finger twice on the partially open door, more to let Boyd know he was coming than actually requesting permission to enter. He pushed it open and strode through as the somewhat welcoming grunt came from within.
“Hey, sexy,” he said, crossing the two rooms to zoom in on Boyd sitting at his bench. On the spinner before Boyd was a larger figure than he had ever done before: an eighteen-inch figure of a woman with an hourglass figure wearing a form-fitting formal gown that flowed to the floor, swaying as if she’d just stepped to her right. Her hands were curled as if she were holding something or someone, but that part was missing.
“Ooooh,” Lucas said, resting his head on Boyd’s shoulder to examine the piece closer. “She’s pretty.”
“She’s also the viscount’s granddaughter, who I think is married to a prince somewhere in Eastern Europe. I’d have to pull out her details again, but she’s already got two kids, and she still looks this good.”
“She doesn’t look old enough to have two kids.”
“That’s what happens when you marry when you’re still a teenager.”
“Please tell me it wasn’t an arranged marriage.”
Boyd did a slow pan to level an annoyed look at him.
“What? They used to.”
“Slavery was a thing in America back in the day, too.”
Lucas made a deflating raspberry. “If you want to get technical,” he grumbled.
Boyd twisted his seat to face him, loosely curling his arms around Lucas’ waist. “Where are you off to, Mister Soon-To-Be-Masters?”
Oh-ho. Someone’s feeling playful. “I thought you were going to become a Dobson,” Lucas countered, leaning in to give him a quick morning kiss.
“Yeah, but then I was reminded I do have family that I care about.”
“None of which are Masters. Your mom and Aunt Judy are sisters who changed their names when they married. If you were going to take any of their names, we’d both be changing to Davenport.”
Boyd looked down at where their abdomens rested against each other.
“Hey,” Lucas said, sliding his hand under Boyd’s chin and lifting it so he could see those beautiful baby blues focusing on him. “What’s going on, love?”
Boyd opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He tried twice more. “Ten years,” he finally croaked. “They took me in and gave me a home within the family for nearly two years, and I repaid them by cutting them out of my life the second I could. Who does that to their own?”
“Somebody with a lot of fear,” Lucas answered honestly. "And that somebody isn’t you anymore. You’ve invited Emily to be our accountant, and personally, I hope you know what you’re doing there…”
“Emily has always been good with money. The only time she’s ever been off is when she borrows money from you, and you go to get it back. By the time she’s finished explaining all the financial movement around the transaction, you end up owing her twice as much, and she’s really convincing. Computerised flow charts and everything.”
Lucas hoped he was exaggerating. If Emily had been that quick and deceptive to separate Boyd from his money when she was a teenager, she might have been even more cunning now. Lucas would remain attentive until she proved herself because the love of his life had earned this break. “Okay,” was all he said since he didn’t want to argue.
Boyd nipped the tip of his nose. “Don’t you ‘okay’ me in that tone of voice.”
Lucas pulled back and rubbed the back of his hand against his nose. It hadn’t hurt, but it was weird. No one had ever done that before. “I’m a cop, love. In my world, it’s guilty until proven innocent.”
“Getting back to my original question. Where are you going?”
“I’m going to go and get some supplies for Levi and Maddy. The dumbass has been worrying himself sick over where he can leave Maddy on short notice if he and Austin get called out to a fire together. They can’t waste up to an hour each way getting over to Queens and Brooklyn.”
“Tell him she can stay with us,” Boyd said without hesitation. I’ll be here all the time, and if I’m out and it’s an emergency dump-and-run, I can drop whatever I’m doing and call someone to teleport me back.”
Lucas leaned in and kissed him again. “And that’s just one of the many reasons I love you,” he said once they parted. “Charlie will be here too, which means Robbie won’t be far away either. Levi still wants to run it past Llyr since it’s his place, but so long as we keep her on our side and away from Miss W, it won’t be a problem.”
“You’ll need to remember to lock up your guns when she’s here.”
Lucas nodded thoughtfully in agreement without speaking. It would devastate everyone if Maddy somehow managed to get her hands on one of his work firearms and fire it. He’d need to get a thumbprint safe – something that he could get at very quickly in a crisis.
“How is she with beds?”
“What?”
“Don’t little kids have those hospital guardrail things, so they don’t roll out of bed and hurt themselves? I mean, your bed isn’t that far from the floor, but if you’re getting supplies, you might want to think about some of those things to keep her in.”
Lucas hadn’t thought about that. “Okay, then it’s going to be a bigger shopping trip than I thought, but that’s alright. Levi and Maddy are going to chill in the apartment until I get back.”
“Do you want me to check in on them?”
“Nah, it should be fine. Levi knows where Charlie’s office is, and if he’s going to annoy anyone while they’re at work, it should be our sister.” Lucas turned Boyd back to his carving and leaned his head on Boyd’s shoulder. “You keep outdoing yourself, you know that, right?”
“These tools are magic. I can’t do a thing wrong with them.” With a slight grimace, he added, “Hey, have you ever heard the story about the kid who gets the magic piano?”
Lucas squinted warily. “Am I going to like this story?”
“It’s a cautionary tale. This kid finds a magic piano, and all he has to do is work the pedals, and the piano plays itself. No one notices it’s not the kid, and the kid’s ego grows with each performance until he’s an international sensation. Then, he has a fight with the piano over who the star really is. The following night, the piano refuses to play, and the kid is booed off the stage. His family is left financially ruined.”
“I will beat you within an inch of your life if you equate that to you.”
Boyd looked at him. “How can I not? I mean, when I relax and just let the tools do what they’re made to do, the pieces come out flawlessly—every time. But the second I worry, minor defects creep in. Nothing I can’t counter and fix, but still…”
“If it concerns you that much, why not do a piece every now and then without the divine tools to prove to yourself that the skill is yours and the tools are just tools?”
Boyd looked over the divine toolset, then back up at the shelf where his older tools were. “That’s a good idea,” he admitted.
Lucas lightly kissed him on the lips and stepped out of his grasp. “I’ve been known to have them now and again. Oh, and don’t forget we’re going to Angus’ this afternoon. Just the six of us.”
Boyd raised his left hand in acknowledgment, but his focus was back on the carving even as his right hand picked up a scalpel of some kind and drove it across the carving’s middle. The blade was then smoothly passed to his left hand to make an incision from that side while his right reached for a new tool.
As he’d said, his motions were flawless, with chips and shavings flying at the speed of a professional wood chopper. Lucas could watch him work all day, but if he was going to make it to Angus’, he needed to leave now.
He let himself out and headed for the main front door to the level.
A little over an hour later, after grabbing several sets of clothes in his brother’s size, Lucas was standing in the middle of the children’s clothing section, blinking in confusion at all the options. He would go to touch one, then back away, unsure.
He must have looked pitiful because a staff member in her mid-thirties took pity on him and approached with a warm smile. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, this is crazy,” he answered, gesturing to the millions of clothes options before them. “My brother asked me to look after my niece in an emergency, and I want her to have whatever she’ll need at my place in case he doesn’t have time to take her home.” He looked at all the clothes. “Whatever that entails.”
“That’s really sweet. Is your brother a doctor?”
“Fireman.”
The woman gave Lucas the once over. “I can see that.”
Lucas chuckled. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. Between him, Levi and Mav all sharing their dad’s muscle, they’d always caught people’s eye. “Anyway,” he said, wanting to move this along. “My niece is three going on four, and she’s about this high,” he said, showing her height as an inch or two under his hip.
“Does she have any favourite TV shows?”
“Spongebob,” Lucas said, incredibly grateful for his conversation with Levi over breakfast. He’d have never had that answer otherwise. “And if you’re not doing anything after we get her clothes sorted, my fiancé mentioned something about bed rails since she’ll be sleeping in my old queen-sized bed. This is an all-in shopping trip for her, and I have no idea what to get.”
“Do you have any toys for her? And no, I’m not pushing for a commission here. Little minds need to be kept stimulated, or little hands will end up in places they have no business being. If this is your first time looking after her, you’re going to want a few toys, books, and things to keep her busy.”
“My brother is already nagging me about buying her the basics. What would you recommend that won’t make it seem like I’m trying to buy her affection?”
“Are you okay with electronics, or are you trying to steer her away from that?”
“It doesn’t faze me. It’s more the cost. I don’t want to buy her what my brother hasn’t or can’t afford. I’ve been into too many households where kids have every version of PlayStation, Xbox and Nintendo and every known game that goes with them. Those kids appreciate nothing, and that’s not something I’m okay with.”
“You see a lot of people’s houses?”
“I was a beat cop for over eight years before my promotion.”
“A policeman and a fireman? I’m sure there's a joke involving a bar in there somewhere.”
“If there were, the third person would be an ice hockey player,” Lucas chuckled again, already liking this woman. As they wandered through the aisles, she added things to his cart. Clothes were first, but they quickly moved on to toys. A couple of generic soft toys. and the board game “Candyland”. Lucas grabbed ‘Hungry, Hungry Hippos’, as that was one he and his brothers had played when he’d been Maddy’s age. Then came two large boxes of Duplo.
Not once did it feel like the sales assistant was pushing an agenda. She even paused to consider the options as if she were buying them for her own kids. Lucas really appreciated that.
As they were walking the isles, Lucas came to a screeching halt and stared at a range of doctor, nurse and vet play sets. Two jumped out at him. One had a plastic pet carrier with a handful of bulky instruments, and the other came in a bright blue bag with red handles and a white pawprint on the side. It had a comprehensive range, including toy bandages, pill bottles, cream jars, syringes, a stethoscope and even a cone of shame. Both went into the cart after he checked to make sure the two soft animals would fit in the carrier.
Mason’ll have a field day showing her exactly how to simulate using all this stuff, he thought to himself with a grin.
“You’re really very thoughtful,” the woman said after he explained why they both had to be purchased.
Lucas specifically asked for books after that. Real books with paper pages. He was sure his mother (as a high school English teacher) would murder him in his sleep if he didn’t buy Maddy at least ten books ranging from ones she could memorise and pretend to read (which, in her grandmother’s eyes, taught her word structure and was the first step in learning to read), with ones he could read to her. And that, of course, required Spongebob bookends to hold them together.
“Your fiancé is a lucky woman if you’re willing to do all of this for your niece,” she said once the cart was full and they were heading back to the checkouts.
“Yes, he is,” Lucas agreed, deliberately sliding in Boyd’s gender without making a huge issue of it.
Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Wow, I really shouldn’t make that assumption anymore, and I apologise.”
Because this was New York. “Apology accepted,” Lucas said, waving it aside. Boyd might have been embarrassed, but thankfully, he wasn’t here. “Thanks again for all your help.”
* * *
((Author's extra-long note:
Heya guys! Just letting you know I need to take a week off. [It’s nothing to do with the community here, I promise! I love writing this, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.]
In fact it's … you know what? Stuff it. You guys might as well know. Remember how I mentioned earlier this year we were fighting for more care for my special needs daughter?
That’s the issue.
Our support coordinator has our written authority to act on our behalf. Yet we’ve been told in writing from the government department that if she doesn’t back off, the whole request, including thousands of dollars of specialists interviewing our daughter and reporting their findings, will be deleted, and our request, including all-new interviews and reports, will have to start all over again.
I’m almost at the point where I’m not sleeping, but our support coordinator has promised us to fight because, in her words, “This is getting ridiculous.”
I’ve been really struggling to write this week with everything going on in the background. I’ve finally admitted I need to pull back (just for one week—I mean it when I say how much I love this writing and the little community we’ve formed) to focus on sorting out the mess, so that my writing isn’t tarnished by the battlelines that are being drawn up in the background.
(I already scrapped a page and a half because my anger at things [I bounce between anger and depression] had people who were usually very chill (Robbie) acting in a very aggressive manner that simply wasn’t them. Because of this, I’ve already used up several of my backlog this week and I loathe to lose any more, given how hard they were to build up. (The thought of using them up without others to take their place was also adding to my stress.)
And I was told by my beta reader, ‘Given you’ve been doing this for over three years, and you’ve only had the occasional day off due to sickness, take the week and regroup, stronger than ever.
I agreed. This means my next post will be on Monday, the 27th, Australian Time.
I hope with all my heart that you’ll all still be with me when I return next week.
Karen. ))
((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗))
I made a family tree/diagram of the Mystallian family that can be found here
For more of my work, including WPs: Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here.
FULL INDEX OF BOB THE HOBO TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!!
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2024.05.16 02:49 Deep-Expression84 c.s.i miami online

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El programa de televisión CSI: Miami, también conocido como "C.S.I. Miami" en español, es una serie de crímenes y misterio que se centra en un equipo de investigadores forenses que resuelven casos en la ciudad de Miami, Florida. El reparto de CSI: Miami está compuesto por un grupo de talentosos actores que han dado vida a personajes icónicos a lo largo de sus exitosas temporadas.
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CSI: Miami es una serie de televisión estadounidense que se centra en un equipo de forenses y detectives que resuelven crímenes en la ciudad de Miami. La serie se caracteriza por sus emocionantes episodios llenos de intriga, misterio y acción. A lo largo de las temporadas, los espectadores son testigos de cómo el equipo liderado por Horatio Caine, interpretado por David Caruso, utiliza la ciencia forense para resolver casos aparentemente imposibles.
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2024.05.13 16:48 supasut I feel that characters with drawn lips do not fit my style, especially when it comes to exaggerated expressions (like Emily here).

I feel that characters with drawn lips do not fit my style, especially when it comes to exaggerated expressions (like Emily here). submitted by supasut to u/supasut [link] [comments]

2024.05.13 08:23 Funny-Barnacle1291 The Mad Woman in The Attic: WAOLOM, mad woman, Jane Eyre and the Eras tour WAOLOM visuals

The Mad Woman in The Attic: WAOLOM, mad woman, Jane Eyre and the Eras tour WAOLOM visuals
Taylor is now repeatedly drawing us back to lesbian and queer poetry and literature, which consistently has themes of madness, sickness, and suppression. I feel that she is telling us over and over that she is sick from closeting, and she can't take it anymore.
When I saw the WAOLOM visuals for Eras tour, I thought Taylor is meant to be in an attic. I've come across 'The Mad Woman in the Attic' by Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar before, but I have never read it all the way through. I believe Taylor is directly referencing this book, and Jane Eyre, to inform us all that she resonates with this story as a queer woman, and that she is stuck in her own attic - her closeted life - and she wants to burn it all down (with Karma, imho).
The WAOLOM visuals
https://preview.redd.it/t65tjj0sq40d1.png?width=500&format=png&auto=webp&s=0b67556a1c3a40b003758021bfb3f2ea0bd621bc
https://preview.redd.it/z6an5k0sq40d1.png?width=500&format=png&auto=webp&s=5e94d7826f38733daf436aa64884dbbffba286b3
https://preview.redd.it/kzrelk0sq40d1.png?width=500&format=png&auto=webp&s=e781aa36535a50ba101d59a22f982f29aa741411
To me, this house either looks like the Lovers House or her childhood home - or it represents both, amalgamated. The reason I'm drawn to the Lovers House is because of the very obvious triangular imagery as we zoom in, showing her in the attic. She is also using a lot of mirrored images, something that's important when considering The Mad Woman in the Attic. However, it's also possible the Lovers house is drawn from her childhood home, which I have no doubt has been theorised before. Another alternative is through suppressed intergenerational trauma, Taylor is realising themes of her childhood home have been bleeding into her work.
The two houses for reference
https://preview.redd.it/figix1har40d1.jpg?width=500&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=81f8f09ca909b246debbe72428e2dd64985f0f7c
https://preview.redd.it/5c2mnihar40d1.png?width=400&format=png&auto=webp&s=f73fb08b2cbd159b3d2f3377a1c96176f291d63f
The Mad Woman in the Attic
WAOLOM is directly related to mad woman, made very clear during the Eras tour (if it wasn’t already!) by the imagery.
Taylor is in the attic, the mad woman in the attic, which is also the title of a book by Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar analysing Victorian literature through the lense of Jane Eyre (Charlotte Brontë), and it's worth noting Taylor repeatedly makes references to Jane Eyre throughout Folklore and within mad woman. In Jane Eyre, Bertha Mason is locked in an attic by her husband Mr Rochester, and in the mad woman in the attic, Gilbert and Gubar use this as a frame of analysis to explore madness and angelicness in the works of Victorian women authors from a feminist perspective. The book examines work from Charlotte and Emily Brontë, Emily Dickinson, Virginia Woolf, Mary Shelley, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and Christina Rossetti. What do all of these women have in common, beyond being literary authors? They’re all rumoured, or essentially confirmed (in the case of Christina Rossetti and Emily Dickinson) of being queer, particularly lesbian. It is a very key and formative piece of feminist literature.
The premise of the book is the authors explore how women writers were forced to make the women in their books one of two things: angel, or monster. They argue this is imposed by a “reductionist, patriachal view of women’s roles”; they have, from what I understand, received some critisism for not saying the quiet part out loud here: under cisheteronormative patriachy, women are defined in relation to, by and for men – - and so lesbians and lesbian identity is alienated, hidden, erased. The book does not make the obvious connection here - these writers were forced to closet themselves for their own protection in Victorian society. Gilbert and Gubar draw on what Virginia Woolf said for their argument: “[women writers] must "kill the aesthetic ideal through which they themselves have been 'killed' into art". Let’s not forget here, the connections between WAOLOM and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, posts on this sub with this theory here from u/throw_ra878, here from u/slejeunesse and here from u/AliceStanleyJr. Gilbert and Gubar do argue that men originally set up the dichotomy of female characters as either pure, virginal, angelic or rebelillious, mad, ‘hysterical’. A direct quote that jumped out from me from the Preface is “for just as women have been repeatedly defined by male authors, they seem in reaction to have found it necessary to act out male metaphors in their own texts, as if trying to understand their impliciations.” Indeed.
Crucially, the book describes “a female schizophrenia of authorship” or a “split”: as a representation of themselves, authors would write, process and act out their own suppressed nature and emotions through the process of ‘employed mirrors’; and thus create the image of the mad woman. A direct quote: "these madwomen emerge "over and over again from the mirrors women writers hold up both to their own natures and to their own visions of nature,"..."they appear from a silence in which neither [they] nor [their] author[s] can continue to acquiesce"". The book fails to really dig into this silence: the silence, and the common nature, is that of holding a queer or lesbian identity, and all of these women were forced to suppress it. This draws me to the lesbian memoir from Glennon Doyle, Untamed, in which she talks of how suppressing your true, queer self leads to sickness and ill-health, including mental health issues, and Taylor has links to this book too - she has credited it as being a "huge help" during 2020.
I will say, it is hard to miss what Gilbert and Gubar are getting at, especially is queer, or even only familiar with just two or three of these authors work (which we know Taylor is); it's natural to ascertain that what these women were hiding was their queerness, and this is specifically a consequence of cisheteronormative society. It is also a widely discussed critisism.
I can’t think why Taylor could be drawing from a text like this…
mad woman and Jane Eyre
A lot of Folklore is littered with references to Jane Eyre, that lots of people have noticed. A really good summary of all the references in Folklore can be found here from @/Karisma Takhar on medium. Here is what they wrote about man woman and references to Jane Eyre
"The Jaye Eyre references continue in ‘mad woman’, the track title a reference to who the literary world now refers to as the ‘Madwoman in the Attic’ thanks to Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar. On Jane and Mr Rochester’s wedding day, it is revealed the latter is married to Bertha Mason, whose mental health deteriorated rapidly after the wedding. Mr Rochester decides to lock his wife away in the attic of their home, leaving Grace Poole to care for her, though Grace’s drinking occasionally leads Bertha to escape and roam the hallways. She rips Jane’s wedding veil in half the night before the wedding, an incident Mr Rochester blames on one of maids. When Mr Rochester formally introduces his wife to Jane, she ‘scratched and growled like some strange animal’; Taylor makes similar statements in the song, likening the ‘mad woman’ to both a scorpian and a bear in its defence."
I think this makes it incredibly likely Taylor is not just drawing from Jane Eyre but she is aware of how her sub-conscious suppressed is spilling out into her work, and she is choosing to deliberately make this bigger and louder.
I think the strongest links to this theory are 1989 onwards, which I believe is partly linked to Karma the lost album, the album I do believe is going to 'burn it all down' in order for Taylor to rebuild as an artist who is out and proudly queer.
Here are some lyrics which link to this theme of the 'mad woman, with themes of madness, craziness, rebellion and hysteria - and a process of ‘splitting’ in Taylor’s work, where her suppressed desires come through in her lyrics, leading to consistent themes of madness:
· Treachourous (Red): "This slope is treacherous, this path is reckless, this slope is treacherous, and I, I, I like it"
· Say Don’t Go (1989): “the waiting is a sadness, fading into madness, oh no, oh no, it won't stop, i'm standin' on a tightrope alone, I hold my breath a little bit longer, halfway out the door, but it won't close”
· I Did Something Bad (Reputation): "I never trust a narcissist, but they love me, so I play 'em like a violin, and I make it look oh so easy, 'Cause for every lie I tell them, they tell me three, this is how the world works" / "I can feel the flames on my skin, crimson red paint on my lips, if a man talks shit, then I owe him nothing, I don't regret it one bit, 'cause he had it comingThey say I did something bad, then why's it feel so good?" / "And I let them think they saved me" / "You gotta leave before you get left" / "They're burning all the witches, even if you aren't one, they got their pitchforks and proof, their receipts and reasons, they're burning all the witches, even if you aren't one, so light me up (light me up), light me up (light me up), light me up, go ahead and light me up (light me up)"
· Look What You Made Me Do (Reputation): "But I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time, honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time, I got a list of names, and yours is in red, underlined, I check it once, then I check it twice" / "I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me, I'll be the actress starring in your bad dreams"
· End Game (Reputation): "“I hit you like, "Bang", we tried to forget it, but we just couldn't, and I bury hatchets but I keep maps of where I put 'em, reputation precedes me, they told you I'm crazy”
· Getaway Car (Reputation): "It was the best of times, the worst of crimes, I struck a match and blew your mind, but I didn't mean it, and you didn't see it, The ties were black, the lies were white, In shades of gray in candlelight, I wanted to leave him, I needed a reason, "X" marks the spot where we fell apart, he poisoned the well, I was lyin' to myself, I knew it from the first Old Fashioned, we were cursed, we never had a shotgun shot in the dark" / "There were sirens in the beat of your heart, should've known I'd be the first to leave, think about the place where you first met me, in a getaway car, no, they never get far, no, nothin' good starts in a getaway car, It was the great escape, the prison break, the light of freedom on my face, but you weren't thinkin' and I was just drinkin', while he was runnin' after us, I was screamin', "Go, go, go!", but with three of us, honey, it's a sideshow, and a circus ain't a love story, and now we're both sorry", "We were jet-set, Bonnie and Clyde, until I switched to the other side, to the other side, it's no surprise I turned you in, 'Cause us traitors never win"
· The Man (Lover): “they paint me out to be bad, so it's okay that I'm mad, I'm so sick of running as fast as I can, wondering if I'd get there quicker if I was a man (you know that), and I'm so sick of them coming at me again (coming at me again)” “I’m so sick” is repeated 8 times, which just so happens to be the number representing infinity.
· The Archer (Lover): "Combat, I'm ready for combat, I say I don't want that, but what if I do? 'Cause cruelty wins in the movies" / "I've been the archer, I've been the prey, who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?" / "And I cut off my nose just to spite my face, then I hate my reflection for years and yearsI wake in the night, I pace like a ghost, the room is on fire, invisible smoke, and all of my heroes die all alone"
· The Last American Dynasty (Folklore): “Holiday House sat quietly on that beach, free of women with madness, their men and bad habits, and then it was bought by me, who knows, if I never showed up, what could've been, there goes the loudest woman this town has ever seen, I had a marvelous time ruinin' everything”
· Seven (Folklore): “I think your house is haunted, your dad is always mad and that must be why, and I think you should come live with, me and we can be pirates, then you won't have to cry, or hide in the closet, and just like a folk song, our love will be passed on, please picture me, in the weeds, before I learned civility, I used to scream ferociously, any time I wanted”
· mad woman obviously, just the whole thing!
· Champagne Problems (Evermore): ““This dorm was once a madhouse”, I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me"” // “"She would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head, " they said, but you'll find the real thing instead, she'll patch up your tapestry that I shred”
· Anti-Hero (Midnights): “Midnights become my afternoons, when my depression works the graveyard shift, all of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room” / “I should not be left to my own devices, they come with prices and vices, I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)” / Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism, like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time), I wake up screaming from dreaming, one day I'll watch as you're leaving”
· WAOLOM ofcourse, just the whole thing.
Interestingly, Taylor's references to virtue, or themes of angelic, virginity, are pre-1989.
· Hey Stephen (Fearless): "'Cause I can't help it if you look like an angel, can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain, so come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you, can't help it if there's no one else, mmm, I can't help myself"
· White Horse (Fearless): "Say you're sorry, that face of an angel, comes out just when you need it to, as I paced back and forth all this time, 'Cause I honestly believed in you, holdin' on, the days drag on, stupid girl, I should've known, I should've known, that I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairy tale, I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet, lead her up the stairwell, this ain't Hollywood, this is a small town, I was a dreamer before you went and let me down, now it's too late for you and your white horse, to come around"
· The Lucky One (Red): "New to town with a made-up name, in the angel's city, chasing fortune and fame, and the camera flashes make it look like a dream" I think this whole song is really interesting to read when considering this idea of beasts versus angels, madness versus virtue, and the idea of her having been sold a lie.
In Summary
Taylor is using imagery of herself in an attic to imply she is aware her true self, her closeted and suppressed self, is coming through in her music, and she is saying she directly relates to Jane Eyre - she feels trapped by her closeted life, by the "1950s shit they want from me", she wants to be free, healthy, out. She is telling us all that these themes of madness are a direct result of all she is suppressing, a direct result of living in a cisheteronormative patriachy, and it is stifling her, ruining her life.
Taylor has got to a stage where she is now deliberately referencing queer media, authors and literature, knowing full well it will be looked into. These consistent themes are not accidental; she is saying through her art and her music that she is queer and she doesn't want to hide it anymore. I partially think a lot of the themes of death are about how she doesn't want to die in the closet and her work be analysed years later, to them be summarised as possibly gay later on. She wants to be known, now, as queer, as her true self, to cure her sickness of suppression.
She is also implying she is an unreliable narrator and there are certain parts of her music you can't trust at face value; that she is suppressing a huge part of herself and it is presenting in her lyrics, it is filled with queer closeted trauma and comphet as a manifestation of the suppression of her true identity, and she needs people to know.
I truly think she is ready to burn it all down, with Karma. In the words of Taylor, "all I think about is Karma".
submitted by Funny-Barnacle1291 to GaylorSwift [link] [comments]

2024.05.11 19:29 Scott_Savino My Twin Disappeared After Reading A Book Called "The Legend of Mermaid's Roost"

We look the same and we always have but we couldn’t be more different from each other. I think that’s the best place to start with this. Some identical twins have a lot in common. They like the same foods, the same things on television, some even spend their entire lives dressing in the same clothes, but we were never those girls. For as long as I remember, it’s been hard for even our own parents to tell us apart were it not for our very different personalities. Our own mother can’t tell the difference between our voices over the phone to this day. We even have the same laugh, but after that we diverge. I’m extroverted and would much rather be outdoors than inside where she is bookish and reserved. As far as personality traits go, Lily and I have always shared very few.
We both have our father’s nose and our mother’s heart shaped face and her high cheekbones. The same raven-black hair falls in waves past both of our shoulders and the same emerald green, almond shaped eyes sparkle with hidden flecks of gold that you can only see if you take a look up close.
Still, there’s a connection between us that can’t be explained. We just feel it. Know it’s there. It’s a thing with identical twins no matter how truly different they really are. Some say it’s a sort of telepathy, if you believe in that sort of thing.
That’s the reason I knew something was wrong before I had proof. I knew when I woke up in the morning that something was happening and that it was big. I even knew when I finally got up the nerve to send her a text, she would reply this time; not right away–but this time–she would. She hadn't been replying to me at all lately, no matter how often I sent her messages. Something was different now. I'd hear back from her but it would be at least a week–possibly a few days more before I did. Sending this text was different. Something I could feel in my bones told me she'd finally tell me what was going on with her. Where had she been? In my heart, I knew the lack of communication over the past several months wasn’t something she had chosen. Somehow I knew she wanted to talk to me but for some reason she couldn’t and that was a very strange and unnerving feeling for a twin to have. In the past, before Lily’s recent radio-silence, she and I had rarely gone for more than a day or two without checking in. In the past year that had suddenly changed and I had no logical explanation for it.
This particular morning, a feeling of unease is everywhere around me and even somehow inside me. I feel it in bed before I even open my eyes. Like an itch you can’t scratch because you know it will just make the rash worse and trying to ignore it altogether will drive you mad. The worst part about the itch was knowing that after months of nothing, I would finally hear back from Lily. It was time. She was ready to talk. I knew it. I don't know how–I just did. Somehow after months of unanswered messages, my next text would finally garner a response and knowing that made me jittery. The itch was made worse by the inexplicable knowledge that the response was going to take days. At least I would get it, but I'd have to wait for it for days. If she hadn't replied to me in months, why should that make me feel so uneasy? I couldn't say. The whole prospect of this scenario made me nervous but I told myself I would send the message right after breakfast because my sister needed me to send it and she needed me to send it today. It was important that I reached out to her this morning.
Whatever happened is bothering me so much that I burn the pancakes and have to start them over three different times.
“Vibes are off today, Emily,” my wife Jasmine begins. She sits patiently waiting for me to serve her a plate of good ones, pancakes that aren’t burnt, at the table in our kitchenette, “I just changed that bag last night you know, and if you keep doing that I’ll have to take it out again before we even get to eat. What’s up with you?”
“Not me,” I reply, “it’s Lily. Something’s up with Lilly.”
“Oh? You finally hear back from her? What’s going on?”
“That’s just it. I haven't heard anything in months but that's definitely about to change. I don’t know. It’s just a feeling, babe. Hard to explain,” I say.
“A twin thing?” She asks.
“Exactly. It’s twintuition. It’s like–”
“–Intuition,” she finishes for me, “I get it. Did you try calling her or texting her yet?” Jasmine asks.
“No, but it’s because I’m afraid she won’t answer right away and I don’t want to have that fear be real.” I admit. “That’s weird isn’t it?”
“Very,” she says getting up from the table. She picks my phone up from the counter and grabs me by the waist, moving me away from the stove and spinning me around. She pecks a small kiss on my lips and lifts one of my hands, placing the phone into it. She gives me a little shove toward the kitchenette table and pulls out the chair for me.
“You’re going to sit here and write a text to your sister and I’m going to finish making breakfast.” She tells me.
I sit here looking at my phone for a while, unsure of how to start. Finally I type:
Anything wrong? Worried about you.
And I hit send.
_____________________________
Eight days pass before Lily texts me back and it’s a flood of texts in the morning from an unknown number. One after the other.
Sorry I didn’t get back to you right away. You were right about Eric. I didn’t tell you a lot because I thought you’d be ashamed of me. Or mad. You’ve always been so much stronger than I am.
I packed and left the night you text me. I was afraid to reply because I thought he might be able to read it somehow. He definitely was tracking the phone so I left it at the bus station that morning.
It took me a few days to get set up, but I’m in Echo Bay now and this is my new number. Just got one of those burner phones from Walmart. It’s nothing special but that’s on purpose.
I’m staying in a bungalow on the beach. Very cute. Just a few miles from you and Jasmine, actually. It’s nothing permanent, just an AirB&B. I figured coming here would be safest for now to figure out what to do next.
I never told him where you were and he’ll try to find me if he can. He’ll follow me to the end of the Earth. I should have told you about him. The whole truth. Now I finally can. If you’re not busy, come by today and I’ll tell you the whole story.
The last text she sends puts tears in my eyes and I call her right after I read it and we make plans…
I’m pretty sure if I stayed he’d have killed me sooner or later. Probably sooner.
I meet Lily for lunch at her bungalow in the afternoon and she’s right, it’s very cute. She, on the other hand, looks like a mess and I find myself both irate and awestruck. I don't understand how the bruises haven’t fully healed or even begun to heal a little. That bastard really did a number on her. It's eight days later and her face and skin is purple and green with bruises in so many places–appearing to be so fresh that you'd think she'd been at the bottom of a three-car pile up just the night before.
“He wasn’t always like this, you know,” she tells me, “in the beginning he was really charming…it took a long time to figure out that person wasn’t real.”
She doesn’t eat much, mostly just moves the food around on her plate with her fork. She goes quiet and drifts away from the conversation a lot which is strange for me because she was always the one with more focus. I’m the daydreamer. She’s the grounded one. That’s how we’ve always been. A few times while she’s sitting silently, she begins to cry. When I hold her hand, it turns into a wailing sob and I reassure her that none of this is her fault. That this sort of thing happens to a lot of women. That they feel trapped and never try to get out. Never try to escape. They don’t make it out. I reassure her that she’s still strong because she saw what was happening and she did something about it. She left. I reassure her quietly that although it shouldn’t be this way, that it shouldn’t happen, this still happens to lots of women anyway. She’s not alone. She escaped it. She’s a survivor.
“We can help find you a lawyer if you want,” I offer at one point, “we have money saved. We can pay for it,” and she immediately shuts the idea down.
“No. I’m not doing that,” she says adamantly, “I just want to be done with it. I came here to heal. I don’t know if I’m staying or not yet…”
She pauses for a moment and then adds: “I just need some time to figure out where I’m supposed to be.”
“But if you let him get away with it, he could do this to someone else,” I say, “you do realize that right? You need to do something. He needs to pay for this.”
“He does need to, but what if he gets away with it?” she asks, “what if I report all of it and he sits trial for it…and what if he gets off? I can't take that chance. It isn't worth the consequences of it. What if I don't win?”
“What if you do?” I ask her. She gets really quiet then, “promise me you’ll think about it.”
“I will,” she says and it’s almost a whisper, “I just need some time. I made it away and I’m safe. I don’t know if I want him to know where I am. If I do this then he knows I’m here and when he does, if I lose, he will kill me. You understand that don’t you? He will kill me. That man operates on some sort of twisted revenge. He won't even consider what would follow once he's gotten it. He'll just think about getting even with me.”
“Jail isn't a deterrent when you're dealing with a human grenade. He'll only want to explode–to destroy. He won't worry about what happens to him after that. He doesn't work that way.” She says.
She doesn’t want to let me take pictures of her bruises but I insist on it and somehow actually win that argument. She tells me she’s been trying not to even look in mirrors right now. She doesn’t want pictures of her looking like this on her brand new phone because what if she decides to take a picture of something beautiful, like a sunset, and she opens the camera and the photo gallery is right there and she has to look at this instead. I tell her that she’s still beautiful no matter what happened to her. All that matters is what happens next. So I take the pictures for her with my phone. She takes off her shirt and there are more bruises everywhere underneath and we take pictures of those too.
I manage to keep my own feelings bottled up for the entire afternoon until she takes her shirt off and now before I realize I’m doing it, I’m crying also.
“Shhh,” she whispers, “you can’t cry. You’re the strong one.”
I shake my head and tell her that we’re both strong and then we’re both sobbing and she presses her face against my chest and I press my head onto the top of hers until she steps away from me and tells me that I have to stop crying on her because I’m getting snot in her hair. We both laugh.
It’s not funny. Nothing about this afternoon has been, but we both laugh anyway and our laughs still sound the same.
I spend the entire day with her and as the sun goes down we leave her bungalow and take a walk along the beach.
“So, can I ask how you ended up falling for this guy? Identical or not we clearly operate on different wavelengths romantically and I just don't understand.” I say, and then add: “forgive me if that's too personal.”
“No. It isn't.” She begins, “and if only we operated on the same wavelength or even similar ones. I thought about you a lot in the past few years. Thought that if only I was a big old lezzie–like you, if I'd just went for girls, none of this would've ever happened.”
“Don't be so sure. Domestic abuse doesn't have a gender. There's shitty, abusive partners in queer relationships too.” I tell her.
“Well, regardless, I've actually asked myself the same question about a hundred times in the last week. What drew me to him and where and when did things change–you know? When did he go from the ideal boyfriend to an absolute monster?”
She tells me that when she met this bastard, Eric Warminster, it was like something out of a movie, and her story begins that way too–like a cheesy rom-com–so corny it sounds fake…I almost tell her how much I hate romantic comedies, I almost tell her to give me some horror flick any day of the week. I think better of it just before I do and don't say the thought aloud. She never went for horror, even when we were girls–and that's what she ended up with despite her aversion to it. That was what her life had become.
She tells me they were both in the produce section of the grocery, neither of them paying too much attention–he on the phone and she looking over her shopping list. They both reached for a pineapple–the last pineapple in the crate. He asks her what she plans to do with it if he lets her have it and she tells him she's just going to cut it up and eat it. He tells her he’s making a pineapple-upsidedown cake with it.
“I've never had that.” She tells him honestly; matter-of-factly and he invites her over to his place later that night to be the judge of whether or not his recipe is any good. Normally, she tells me, she'd never have done something like that. She tells me that she's not the type to just go to a strange man's place on a whim…but he was good looking and had a charming way about him. She fondly describes his smile. It’s out of character and she can't say exactly what makes her drop her guard and give this man her number, but she does…
And the dinner he cooks for her as well as the cake he makes are both excellent.
“That wasn't the only cake he made for me. One day when we were still getting to know each other he asked me a load of questions. What's my favorite color? Favorite flower? That sort of thing. Remember that movie ‘Steel Magnolias?’ I told him that was my favorite movie. He says he's never seen it. Not a week later, he tells me he watched it and asks me to come by after work. Says he's got a surprise for me...” She says.
“No fuckin way.” I said, interrupting her. I told you rom-coms aren't really my thing, but I'd known that was Lily's favorite since we were in middle school. Of course I'd suffered through it and we'd watched it together…her with a tissue pressed against her eyes and me rolling mine.
“He made the Armadillo Cake?” I ask, “you mean to tell me he watched the movie just because you mentioned it and then he made the cake?”
Lily smiles briefly at the recollection and nods.
“He was very romantic…in the beginning.” She tells me.
Eric does all sorts of things to win Lily's heart: he'd make her breakfast in bed, take her on picnics. She tells me he would even sit there calmly while she complained about her co-workers and instead of trying to fix the problem or offer his advice, by the end of the conversation he'd have found a reason to hate the people she said she hated in her story and have his own complaints about them too. According to Lily, he was perfect…and then shortly after she moved in with him, things started to change and they changed fast.
Little things at first…she accidentally buys the wrong type of cereal at the store and is met with: “Frosted Flakes? Really? Not Frosted Flakes! Mini Wheats! Are you stupid or something? Frosted Mini Wheats! How hard is that for your useless, stupid brain to remember?”
She tells me that once she folded the towels the way our mother always had when we were growing up. He didn't fold them that way so he calls her into the bathroom, throws open the linen closet and proceeds to yank each one of them out one by one, unfolding them with a flick of his wrist before smooshing them into balls and leaving them in a heap on the floor.
“Do it the fuckin right away the first time, or do it again, moron.” He shouts at her before storming out of the room.
“He told me all my friends were toxic next. I didn't have any friends except my coworkers so he told me he didn't want me working anymore. Most women would kill to be homemakers. Do the dishes. Spend the afternoon watching soap operas. He put me on an allowance and I couldn't buy anything without telling him I was buying it.” She says. “He told me you were toxic too. Said you didn't love me and the way he said it…how he explained it, it was so convincing. That’s the reason I stopped returning your calls.” After she says this, she begins to cry quietly.
He tells her if she tries to reach me or any other of her so-called “toxic” family, and he finds out, he'll sell the car he bought her and they'd start having everything–all the shopping and groceries–delivered. She becomes afraid if she lets anyone know what’s happening she’ll lose what little freedom he grants her and she'll be trapped in their house for good…trapped there with him for good.
There are a few other anecdotes just like those ones in her story and I find myself getting more and more angry as she recounts all of this to me. Then it hits me: each story is just another small escalation. I'm so mad I could run this man down with my car, then get out and curb-stomp his head before setting him on fire.
I can feel the desire to do that just from what she tells me up to this point…
She still hasn't gotten to the day he begins to put his hands on her and my blood is already boiling.
She gets quiet for a long time and we just walk. I reach out and take her hand, and when I do she puts the thoughts that I was having just a moment earlier into words:
“I can sense how mad you are. I haven't even told you about the first time he hit me.” She says.
“You can keep talking about it, but you don't have to if you don't want to.” I say.
“I don't want to, but I'm going to anyway. I'm ashamed.”
“You shouldn't be. None of this was your fault.” I tell her.
“I know. I am anyway.” She continues, “I feel like I need to tell you. I have to tell someone. I haven't talked about any of this. It's poison and I want it out.”
The first time he hits her, it’s a punch in the face. He doesn't even start off with a slap or something. He'd never hit her before and the first time he does, it's a closed fist. She isn't expecting it to happen. The reason he claims he did it afterward is that she'd overcooked his pork chop. They finish eating and as she collected his plate she askes him how it was. He says it was chewy and then out of nowhere he punches her in the eye.
After he discovers he can get away with something like that, it starts happening all the time…
He throws her against a wall for forgetting to charge his phone for him. She'd forgotten somewhere that she was responsible for every small thing when it came to keeping the household running–even things that she'd never been asked to do. Things as small as putting his phone on the charger for him so he wouldn't have to do it himself.
He didn't want a girlfriend or a partner…he wanted a slave.
If he was leaving for work and she couldn't tell him where his keys were, he'd choke her so roughly and long that her vision would go white–then black–only to stop moments before she was about to pass out.
She’d forget who she was dealing with and speak out of turn and he'd take her by a fist-full of hair and drag her into their guest room where he'd installed a padlock she hadn't noticed before. He'd lock her inside and leave her there for a full day–sometimes two–without anything to eat or drink.
He'd tell her how lucky she was to be so well kept.
He'd tell her that the first time she ever tried to leave him would be the last time she tried that because dead women can't leave anyone–ever.
The awful stories pour out of her. Sometimes slowly like the tears that well in the corner of her eyes, growing like drops at the tip of a leaky tap until big enough to fall… Sometimes in a deluge of rolling sobs as a powerful wave like a wall of water from a burst dam. I don't interrupt her. I don't know what to say so I only listen. I know my sister. She doesn't want me to say anything because nothing I could say would take away the pain of any of this for her.
Eventually the emotions and stories are all spent and she grows silent. When she speaks again, it's to change the subject.
“What’s that out there?” She asks, pointing out at a spot in the water. The sun has nearly set and the only thing we can see is a great dark space on the horizon. The place where I live is old and still has a working lighthouse; it’s more for nostalgia than anything else now. As if on queue, the light sweeps across the darkness revealing a large, not so distant island that mostly exists as an outcropping of rocks.
“The locals call it Mermaid’s Roost,” I tell her, “lots of the old-timers, the superstitious ones, say that’s where the sirens live.”
She smiles at that. I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen her smile all day and it’s an incredible feeling. It’s too soon to call it healing but it’s the beginning of something like it and I can feel it radiating from her. It feels warm. She lifts her phone and opens the camera.
“It’s gonna be my first picture in my new phone,” she says, “I was waiting for something beautiful. I wanted the first one I took to be something beautiful.”
“The Roost is why they put the old lighthouse here in the first place. Supposedly there’s dozens of old ships that sank out there,” I tell her.
“They heard the sirens singing and rammed their ships against the rocks to be closer to them.” Lily says, “The legend is that they’re still out there and you can still hear them if they want you to. If they want you to come out to them…when men hear them from the water it’s because they want to smash the ships. When they hear them from the shore it’s always a trick; a call to swim out to them. Most don’t make it. There's an awful undertow. They drown. If they do make it that far, the sirens just kill them and eat them. They’re not actually mermaids at all but birds with the heads of women. Weird right? They’re from Greek mythology, you know. Surprising anyone believes anything like that out here.”
“That’s right,” I say, struggling to hide my surprise, “but how do you know all that? You just got here.”
“There’s a book about it at the house,” she explains, “I didn't just get here. I’ve been here for about three days. I’ve read the whole thing twice. Didn’t realize it was a local thing. That explains two things…why it was in the house to begin with, but also why it wasn’t written very well. I thought it’s probably self-published or a vanity press sort of thing,” She shrugs and says, “I didn’t realize why it was at the house until now. I like it anyway. It’s just about the only thing there is to read in there.”
I’m flabbergasted, “Three days? You got here and waited three days to text me?” I heard the rest of what she said but that’s the only thing that registers.
“I was scared,” she says, “scared to tell you about any of this stuff.”
“I get it. I’m not mad or anything but Jesus, Lily, you’ve been this close for three days? I’ve been worried sick about you for over a week!”
“I know,” she whispers and grabs my hand, “I’m sorry.”
“We should probably get back before it gets too dark,” I say.
“Stay with me tonight? Say you will? Call Jasmine and tell her you’ll be home in the morning?”
I say I will and that we need to start to head back to her place. We’ve walked about a mile so it will take us a while to get back and this isn’t the kind of beach that’s made of gentle slopes of endless sand. There’s sand of course, but it’s also full of rocks to trip and bust your head open on in the dark.
When we’re halfway there and the sky is a deep, dark purple, like the color of wine when it's still in the bottle, she stops and looks back at Mermaid’s Roost. The shadow of it still looms on the dark violet horizon, like a giant sleeping in the sparkling black blanket of water. Her eyes grow wide and seem to fill with tiny golden diamonds, like flecks of light reflected by the stars. Her face glows with an uncharacteristically innocent wonder.
“Emily,” she whispers, “do you hear them too?”
And I think she’s fucking with me so I say “sure” and tell her to hurry up because I’m starving and I want to order us a pizza and call my wife to let her know I'll be staying with her in her bungalow. Also that my feet hurt. The truth is that I can barely hear her when she asks the question in the first place.
“It’s beautiful,” she says quietly and I agree because I think she’s talking about the town or the beach or the moon or the stars or anything else–anything real–and not some local legend that she can hear over the sound of the waves and wind that I can’t.
When we get back to the little beach house, she pauses in the doorway and stares for a long time back at the island of rocks. It’s distant, but big enough to still see, if only just barely when the light from the lighthouse sweeps across it in the dark.
_____________________________
The house is awash with the chill and the sounds of the sea wind when I wake up. We went to the master bedroom around 11:00pm to watch a movie. The plan was for us to stay in the same bed like we used to do sometimes when we were little girls. The house has a guest room and I could have slept in there, but Lily begged me to stay with her, so I did and the truth is that I wanted to.
It’s 3:00am and the cold is what’s roused me from sleep but it’s panic that pulls me fully awake now. She’s not here with me. I know she’s not in the house. I know this the same way that I know she turned the TV off when she left. She did this so a loud commercial didn’t wake me. I know this because it’s what I would have done if I was trying to sneak away and I didn’t want her to stop me. I know all of this the same way I knew she was in trouble but I didn’t know how or why over a week ago. Twintuition.
I’ve never had a feeling like this one before. It’s strong and clear but also deep and dark like the water outside. I know from the moment I wake up that I won’t see her alive again, but I search the entire house for her anyway. I go from room to room checking every closet, beneath both the beds and even behind the shower curtain in the bathroom. When I get to the living room I see the reason the house is so cold; she didn’t shut the door behind her when she left.
“The Legend of Mermaid’s Roost” is laying open on the counter and she’s used seashells to hold the pages open to where she’s circled a passage in black marker.
“When men hear the sirens singing, it is always without a doubt an attempt at temptation. Their beautiful and deadly song is said to be a lure calling sailors ever closer to the rocks of Mermaid’s Roost to smash their ships along the stoney shore, but the sirens don’t stop there. Their singing has not only been heard by men at sea, but by those who walk along the shores after dark. They call out to the men on the mainland trying to convince them to swim out to the Roost; a distance just over half a mile. According to the legends, most of those that attempted to swim the distance to the island would get caught in the undertow and drown. If they managed to make it the entire way, the sirens of Mermaid’s Roost would rip them apart with their talons and eat them alive while they screamed for a mercy that would never come. Death is always the fate of men who hear the song.”
“According to the myths, women almost never hear their enchanting calls from across the bay, but for those that do the call is never a deadly temptation, but rather an invitation to join them. To sing with them and lure men to their untimely ends. Those women that do hear them may choose to join their deadly flock if they wish to do so. According to the local histories this is rare and the women that choose to join them are never seen nor heard from again.”
At the bottom of the page, a note in her handwriting simply reads: “Figured out where I’m supposed to be. Thanks for today. I love you always.”
I rush outside knowing there’s no reason to hurry because I’m already too late. She’s already made her choice and I don’t need my twintuition to tell me that because I can hear her.
She’s singing…Mermaid’s Roost is over a mile away and I know it’s her voice because it sounds so much like my own. It’s quiet from this distance but the preternatural nature of her chorus spans the space between us with ease and clarity…but this song is not my invitation to join her…
It’s her last request.
When I offered to pay for a lawyer so she could make him pay for putting his hands on her, she was afraid she wouldn’t win but that fear is gone now. She’s found a whole flock that’ll be willing–that lives for the sole purpose of picking better men than him apart, and they will, as they’ve done to so many before him…that is if he even survives the swim.
He’s too far from here to hear her song but he’s not too far for me. I don’t know exactly how to reach you, Eric Warminster, but I know where you live and there can’t be more than one man with that name where you are. In the morning I’ll make a few calls until I find you and when I do, I’m pretty sure that Lily was right when she said you’d try to kill her if she ever left. I'm banking on her fear that you'd follow her to the end of the Earth. I’m also pretty sure you won’t know the difference between her voice and mine, especially not over the phone…our own mother can’t most of the time. I don’t even have to face you and I already know what I’ll say to get you out here too. I’ll taunt you and belittle you just like you did to her. I'll be laughing the entire time. You’ll come. It should be easy enough…our laughs sound the same…
…All I have to do is tell you to meet me at the beach after dark. I know by the sound of the song she's singing that she's changed so much already. I wonder if the transformation was instantaneous or if it takes time for her feathers to grow in and fully form. I wonder if that even matters. I wonder if she must complete her change before she can do what she means to do to you and something about her tone tells me, no. She's ready for you now. The words of her melody aren't in English anymore, but in a vernacular that up until now, I would have believed impossible. The sweet song seems to originate from a great creature both mythical and feminine and beautifully deadly. Birdlike, the calls drift out from the newly-formed and massive beak. I see her face has shifted and grown it already with my mind’s eye. The sound reaches out over the water for only me to hear. Lily sings in a language so musical and ancient now that the words themselves have long been forgotten. Yet, despite their foreign nature, I don't have to understand the tongue to understand the meaning of her song. The sound of the music of Mermaid’s Roost fills my mind. Entering my ears, it surges though my head before seeming to flow and tread before my eyes. I can see what she wants me to do in images that hover barely visible like an ethereal painting before me. She wants me to get you to this beach and I will. That’s her last request–her only request. Get you to the shore and she’ll take care of the rest.
ss
submitted by Scott_Savino to Odd_directions [link] [comments]

2024.05.11 14:29 AdhesivenessKey3212 My small makeup collection

My small makeup collection
Hey Everyone, A week ago I decided that I would like to start project paning mostly my eyeshadows (which I have 90) and lip products (which I have 11) because they are slowly starting to go bad, and I would like to use them up. I used to love eyeshadows, but in the last two years, I've been doing the same makeup look every day. I think project paning will allow me to get more creative and use my products. Products on the pictures: Powder: NYX- Can't stop won't stop mattifying powder (shade: fair)
Concealer: Maybelline : Fit Me concealer (shade: 05)
Blush: Catrice: AirBlush Matt (shade: 120 Berry Breeze) Essence: pure Nude baked blush (shade: 02 Pink Flush) Revolution X Emily in Paris: lip and cheek blush (shade: Emily and Camille)
Highlight: Trend It Up: Super Glow baked highlight (shade: 010) I use this as eyeshadow as it's too dark for me Revolution X Emily in Paris: Highlighter
Maskara: L'Oréal: Lash paradise (shade: intense black)
Kajal: Max Faktor: Kohl pencil (shade 010 white) Trend it up: X-mas Kajal Trend it up: Contour & Glide Kajal (shade 042)
Eyeliner: Artdeco: Long Lasting Liquid Liner (shade 01)
Eyeshadow pallettes: Revolution: Life on the Dance Floor: Guest List Revolution Pro: New neutrals Revolution: Prestige Revolution X Emily in Paris Catrice: My jewels, my rules The black case: Random mono and depot eyeshadows
Lip products: Maybelline Vinyl ink (shade: Wicked and Red-hot) Trend it up Color Protect Lip Stylo (shade 025) Trend it up Ultra Matt Lipstick (shade 474) Essence: Stay Matte 8h (shade 08 Dare You) - used to be my favourite lipstick, that's why I have it three times Revolution X Emily in Paris Lipstick (shade Camille) Maybelline Lifter Gloss (shade: Gummy bear) Catrice: My jewels, my rules. Lip glaze (shade C01 Lime Divine) Rimmel London: Oh My Gloss (shade: 130 Purrr... Glossy Cat) NYX butter gloss (shade Red Velvet) NYX candy swirl by butter gloss (shade sweet slushie) NYX lip pencil (shade Plush Red)
Thank you for coming, hope you enjoyed ☺️
submitted by AdhesivenessKey3212 to makeupflatlays [link] [comments]

2024.05.10 01:26 ConsiderationJaded14 Examining ALL of Peach Pit's plays on Spotify...

Hi there, I compiled a list of all Peach Pit songs on Spotify and organized them by their album, then by the amount of plays/listens each has.
Which songs do you feel deserve more love from each album? Which songs do you feel deserve LESS views, if any? Sound off in the replies!
Song Name Views (rounded) Album
Peach Pit 92m sfaEP
Seventeen 42m sfaEP
Sweet FA 21m sfaEP
Song Name Views (rounded) Album
Alrighty Aphrodite 128m bsn
Tommy's Party 99m bsn
Drop The Guillotine 49m bsn
Techno Show 29m bsn
Being So Normal 29m bsn
Private Presley 17m bsn
Hot Knifer 14m bsn
Chagu's Sideturn 9m bsn
Not Me 8m bsn
Song Name Views (rounded) Album
Shampoo Bottles 82m yyf
Black Licorice 28m yyf
Brian's Movie 12m yyf
Figure 8 12m yyf
Psychics In LA 11m yyfd
Feelin' Low 8m yyf
Puppy Grin 7m yyf
You and Your Friends 7m yyf
Live at the Swamp 5m yyf
Second Life With Emily 5m yyf
Denny's Garage 5m yyfd
Camilla, I'm at Home 4m yyf
Thursday 4m yyf
Adidas 3m yyfd
Your Teeth 3m yyf
Song Name Views (rounded) Album
Give Up Baby Go 26m 2-3
Up Granville 20m 2-3
Look Out 19m 2-3
Vickie 17m 2-3
Pepsi on the House 5m 2-3
2015 4m 2-3
Lips Like Yours 4m 2-3
Everything About You 3m 2-3
From 2 to 3 3m 2-3
Drips on a Wire 2m 2-3
Last Days of Lonesome 2m 2-3
Notes:
submitted by ConsiderationJaded14 to PEACHPIT [link] [comments]

2024.05.08 19:55 LaughingTarget Intragalactic Pet and Garden Show Finale

First Previous
Milek was sitting in a wide grassy field on her home world along with Emily, her two children and those two brutish animals called dogs. The King Charles Spaniel was content walking around, smelling various plants, rocks and anything else it could place its nose against. The gigantic one, the Irish Wolfhound, was curled up and fast asleep. The two children were using the Wolfhound as a pillow and were also taking a nap in the comfortably warm air.

Milek tilted a rocking basket in a gentle rhythm that held four white spun cocoons. Her children had just exited the larval phase of their development and would now spend the next few months developing in the safety of their silken homes.

It has been nearly a decade since the Humans came onto the galactic stage and Milek was becoming more accustomed to their strange animals. She snorted at the memory of first seeing Arthur and his King Charles Spaniel. She and Fessin were so terrified that the pair of them froze up.

Now, she was becoming accustomed to the smaller animal. The dog, compared to the various creatures that the Humans had a knack for demonstrating at the Intragalactic Pet and Garden Show, had become harmless in Milek’s eyes.

As for the Irish Wolfhound, Emily explained that the animal was nearing the end of its natural life and was considered elderly for the animal. The advances in longevity Humans had discovered for themselves hadn’t filtered down to their pets. Knowing how the Humans loved their animals, this wouldn’t be a deficiency for much longer.

The broader galactic community was also becoming accustomed to the strange new species that joined their ranks. After a boost in popularity when the Humans came to the scene, the IPGS had begun to decline back down to its usual attendance. The floating space station, once needed to accommodate the two million attendants that had arrived by the fifth year, now felt cavernous now that the attendance had dropped down to one million.

The upside was the regular crowds had become ardent followers, which moved the IPGS from an annual event to four times a year. Still, Milek knew it would only be a few more years before it returned to the normal half-million crowds. Even with the wild species that Humanity had to showcase, there was only so much that could be displayed before it became dull again.

Milek was fine with it. The crowds were becoming stifling and the Garden show was getting too big to sample everything without risking her stomach exploding. The novelty of Humanity also wore off here when they realized the Garden Show operated more like what they called a “Farmer’s Market” and ceased bringing dangerous plants. It didn’t make much sense to transport begonias and water lilies just for aliens to look at them.

“Carrot?” Emily asked as she handed a long orange root vegetable to Milek.

Milek gripped it and crunched it in her mouth. The bright orange root was a wonderful treat. “Thanks. What is he doing?”

Milek had gestured over to Arthur standing a ways off in the field. He was whistling and clicking at five fluffy grey and white dogs. Two of the animals had so much puffy hair that their eyes were obscured. Milek wondered how they could see.

Emily had referred to them as Old English Sheepdogs. They were bred to do something called herding. Milek had never heard it used as a verb before. She knew that Humans consumed meat, so it made sense that they would develop a way to maneuver large populations of herbivores around and needed a means to protect them from predators.

Milek shuddered at the thought that the unassuming woman with blond hair tied up in a bun was carnivorous. Had the Zilian people not developed intelligence, she could imagine the Humans driving her people around with dogs.

Emily had been polite and not brought along any meat on the picnic, much to the Human children’s dismay. Arthur was also not happy with the impromptu vegetarian day, which he tolerated with something he referred to as a “stiff upper lip”.

“I understand the concept of herding, but why are you using it on an egeru? They’re predatory animals,” Milek commented. She was surprised at how calm she was in the presence of one of her planet’s predatory species. The Zilians traveled in large herds and evolved to their large size to protect themselves from the animals.

Yet here was Arthur and his five Old English Sheepdogs driving four of the egerus around the grassland. The reason they were doing this was the year before, the Human family had come to visit Milek and decided to go on a safari. Which meant driving a vehicle through the wilds and looking at dangerous beasts.

Unfortunately, the egerus were also mildly endangered. The Humans had to get special permission from the Zilian authorities to evaluate the animals. They were going to evaluate how to create a breeding program to improve their numbers, something the Zilians recognized only Humans were crazy enough to do. No one else wanted to get near the dangerous animals.

At least dangerous to Milek. The prior year on their holiday, Emily squealed loudly and called the egerus cute. Arthur, having observed the small family dynamic of the predators, thought they could make a good candidate for selective breeding, which as another motivation for their trip. Milek’s head nearly burst when he heard the Human say that the Zilians could have their own version of dogs in a few generations. Her mate, Kaini, was concerned about associating with the Humans at all.

Kaini didn’t have any input on the matter and Milek squashed it. After making plans with Arthur and Emily, who also took the opportunity to train some working dogs for a client, they returned the following year.

Milek felt bad for the egerus. While their volume was about 20% greater than the Sheepdogs, the dogs had a substantial mass advantage. Earth’s high gravity necessitated evolving significantly sturdier physiques. After some initial aggressive posturing, the dogs quickly asserted their dominance. The egerus were unable to match either the physical strength or the coordinated intelligence of the dogs.

“How are things going over there?” Emily shouted at Arthur.

He had been running around for a solid hour at this point, something that astounded Milek. That was at the upper bound of how long a trained Zilian athlete could run. Arthur was only breathing moderately heavier than usual.

“Oh, I’m terribly out of shape. I’m thinking we need to make a few more days of the week vegetarian,” Arthur called back.

The Human kids jeered the concept of taking meat off the menu more frequently. Milek shook her head. Arthur was complaining about being unhealthy while already performing better than most of the runners in the galaxy.

“Not that. How are the dogs and the, what was it called again?” Emily asked Milek.

“Egerus,” Milek replied.

“Yes. Those. How do you evaluate them?” Emily called over to Arthur.

Arthur’s hand went up to the lower part of his head, the part under the mouth they called a chin. “Promising. The dogs are all showing excellent herding instincts. We shouldn’t let them get too used to this low gravity though.”

His eyes tracked the egerus, which were now huddled in submission between a circle of the panting dogs. The tongue flopping out through the sharp teeth was, as Milek learned, not a means of intimidation but of cooling down. Not that the egerus knew the difference.

“I think these creatures show promise as well,” Arthur commented when he peered at the predatory animals.

Milek’s mind thought to Fessin. She had met Fessin through Kaini’s work. Unfortunately for Fessin, he and Kaini were off on a job constructing a space station in Earth’s orbit to provide embassies for various galactic races. They couldn’t survive on the planet so a special arrangement had to be made.

It was unfortunate because Milek just observed another one of the Human’s strange behaviors, something she knew Fessin would have loved to witness. Arthur began to approach the egerus slowly, bent over with the back of his hand presented.

Fear rose up in Milek as she watched the Human creeping toward the predators. She wanted to collect her offsprings’ cocoons and retreat back to their vehicle for safety. Yet Emily, their two children and the two other dogs showed no signs of distress or concern. Because of this, she decided that Arthur must not be in any real danger. Not that it would quiet down Milek’s own instincts.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Milek asked Emily.

Emily shrugged. “As safe as anything else. Have to take chances to get a reward. Arthur has a way with animals, especially dogs that show aggression.”

If the creeping man in the outfit his Human compatriots consider “dorky” is able to face down an aggressive dog, then the egerus shouldn’t pose much of a risk at all.

The egerus huddled closer when Arthur approached. The largest, the family matriarch, let out a low growl to warn the Human away. He cooed at the sound and commented how cute it sounded.

The matriarch then suddenly lunged at Arthur. Milek froze in terror, thinking she had just witnessed the end of her friend.

Instead, Arthur responded with reflexes that made the egeru look like thick adhesive dripping down a wall. His powerful hands, surprisingly gentle, readjusted the lunge off to the side. The Human then pinned the egeru down and, to Milek’s shock, flipped it over on its back.

The egeru tried to thrash and escape Arthur’s grasp. The Human had pinned the animal to the ground in a firm yet surprisingly gentle grip. The predator struggled to throw off the man’s fleshy shackles. All the while, Arthur was using his other hand and gently stroking the egeru’s underside.

After a few minutes, under the terrified gaze of its mate and offspring, the egeru began to calm. Arthur was making a gentle hissing noise with his mouth, which Milek found oddly soothing. Soon, the predator animal ceased thrashing and went still, its breathing beginning to calm.

After the animal ceased fighting, Arthur released it and backed away. The egeru matriarch calmly flipped over to its legs and then backed away from Arthur, keeping an eye on him. While it still didn’t look friendly, the animal didn’t show aggression. It had enough faculties to recognize the Human wasn’t something to trifle with.

Emily smiled at the interaction. “Ah! That’s promising!”

“That? The egerus look terrified,” Milek said as she watched the shaking animals stare at Arthur, no longer showing any behavior she was used to seeing in the predatory animals.

“Of course. We can, at the very least, ensure a proper breeding program with that behavior,” Emily replied. “Had they immediately fled or attacked after Arthur’s show of dominance, we would have had to come up with a different plan.”

Milek processed the words as she watched the dogs, upon invitation from Arthur, approach the egerus. The dogs were smelling the huddled animals, something she had recognized as a sign of friendly curiosity. With the dogs no longer showing their herding behavior, the egerus, to Milek’s shock, started to calm.

“Does this mean they’re tamed?” Milek asked as she watched Arthur again close in and carefully inspect the egerus, running his hand over parts of their body.

Emily laughed musically. “Oh, no. Not in the slightest. I wouldn’t suggest you go over there. At this stage, they show all the signs of recognizing Arthur and the dogs as something they can’t fight. Taming is harder and, even then, we still wouldn’t want Zilians anywhere near one. That would be after we domesticate them, which is a rather lengthy process.”

“So, what now?” Milek asked, starting up the rocking of her cocoons that she realized had stopped during the fascination with Arthur’s actions.

“We are going to request some land and set up a breeding facility. Then we’ll go out and find more egerus with similar temperament. We need to isolate and amplify the temperament genes needed for domestication without causing significant inbreeding. We lost a few breeds, like the German Shepherd and the French Bulldog, to poor genetic management,” Emily explained, a slight sadness in her voice when mentioning the last two dog breeds.

“Do you know how long it will take?” Milek asked as she observed Arthur applying a local anesthetic to the egerus’ ears before clipping a tracking device to it. They had the system set up to track candidate animals should they be needed for capture after the facility was completed.

Emily crossed her arms and looked to the sky. “Oh, hard to tell really. It depends on how fast we can isolate the gene. There’s no guarantee domestication will even work. Still, the upside is we can at least produce a healthy population of egerus that will pose lower risk to the Zilians when we’re finished.”

Arthur, finished with tagging the egerus, let out a shrill whistle. The five Sheepdogs obediently converged on him as he walked away from the egeru family. After a distance, the egerus realized they were freed from their ordeal and slinked away in silence.

“We had a few victories today. We have a beginning of a good candidate for egeru breeding and, even better, these five are coming along nicely. I’ll get them trained up on some sheep and our client will have some excellent working dogs,” Arthur said with a clap of his hands, the sharp sound dissipating in the grassland.

Emily stood and stretched her back. “Unless you have any objections, Milek, I think we’ll call it a day.”

“None at all,” Milek replied as she pressed a few buttons on her cocoons’ basket. When the anti-gravity unit was activated, she prepared to move her offspring back to the vehicle to bring home. “It was an interesting day.”

“Quite,” Arthur replied. “It’s a shame Fessin wasn’t able to come. He would have loved to see this.”

Milek was sure he would have. He would have also requested Arthur to visit his planet to see if there were any predators that he could test as well.

As the Human children and the other two dogs made their way to the vehicle, Milek took one last turn and looked over the grassland at the forms of the retreating egerus. It was hard to believe that there was a chance that, some day in the future, those animals could be domesticated. That her children or grandchildren could lounge against a tamed egeru, safe in the knowledge their pet would keep them safe.

Milek also imagined the Humans going around the galaxy taming and domesticating even more of these animals. Interest in the IPGS may be waning now, yet Milek suspected there would be a new resurgence of attendees when the other species began showing off their newly domesticated home world predators.

The Human impact on her favorite pass-time was not yet over.
Author's Note: Thanks everyone for reading. When I initially came up with this silly short story exercise, I wasn't sure it was worth posting for the world to see, let alone getting the reaction it received, especially from an unknown writer. I honestly wasn't even thinking of writing more than the first one. I appreciate the time everyone has taken to read the story and the comments made. It really helped with my confidence to see people enjoy what I've written. It also is what sparked me to write up Part 2 and the Finale.
After finishing up the final part of my other little story experiment, I'll need to get back to finishing up a full-length novel I had started for publication. After that? I have another, full book length idea that I think will resonate well here. I'll probably start that later in the year.
See you all soon. I hope I bring you smiles in equal measure as you have brought me.
submitted by LaughingTarget to HFY [link] [comments]

2024.05.07 05:37 chumpydo TIL: During first preview of 'Jekyll & Hyde', Linda Eder (as 'Lucy') lost her voice. Her understudy, Emily Skinner, knew the lines but had not done fight calls. They both ended up going on - Linda did the blocking and lip-synced to Emily, who sang from the wings. The show didn't tell the audience.

TIL: During first preview of 'Jekyll & Hyde', Linda Eder (as 'Lucy') lost her voice. Her understudy, Emily Skinner, knew the lines but had not done fight calls. They both ended up going on - Linda did the blocking and lip-synced to Emily, who sang from the wings. The show didn't tell the audience. submitted by chumpydo to Broadway [link] [comments]

2024.05.07 05:35 cameronstevendon The House on the Hill: A Short Story

The House on the Hill: A Short Story
The House on the Hill
There was a house on a hill, a certain distance up the way, where the crows would gather in the evenings and the sun would illuminate them over the birch bark of the thatching of the roof. And every day it would shimmer, they all shuffling their feathers before the enormity of the setting sun, and I would look up at that house and sigh something deep and sorrowful. I had longed to be in that house ever since I was a little boy, and each passing year the snow would melt above in the mountains and course down along the river, past that house; and I would sit by the banks some way further down the mountain, and I would cast little nuts and stones into its depths, and wonder about the coming year.
It had been six years since I last saw Joseph. He left with a knapsack and a dusty set of shoes, some torn trousers and a wry smile. I remember saying to him, “so long, old fellow.” “Until we meet again,” he had said back. Well, today, I saw him coming down the mountain. I don’t know how he got up there; the last time I saw him walking away, he was headed in the opposite direction. But I cast aside that puzzlement and with joy, went on to meet him.
His beard had grown long, and his brown eyes twinkled beyond a long and crooked nose. A furrowed mustache shuddered as he laughed, and with upheld open arms embraced me. “Jonah! My old boy, how have you been?” “Never better. I was just wondering when I’d see you again, and there you were!” “Well, well. That’s what a man ought to do, anyway. Be where he’s expected to be, isn’t it?” “I guess, old chap. I’m just glad to have you back.”
And so we went on, down by the apple orchard around Brooke’s Lane, the dirt road down past the bend, and we plucked a few red ones and sat in the grass, ate and talked. He had gone up, past the Elven land where the brightness of the dawn was so clear that the morning shone as if a diamond lay in the heavens. And he had gone past that land, beyond to the realm of Goldor-Nu’um, where he had met a princess of sorts. One with a penchant for bestowing wishes, or so he said, with a wry smile. He had met her in a similar orchard as the very one we were I, he said, only that one was filled with magical spiders. The kind that wove nets around the fruit to shade them from the sun. And that fruit was so poisonous that it could kill you immediately if you ate it. She was there because her betrothed was sick after having eaten some of that fruit, and she was in the process of healing him. But she was missing an ingredient, so she sent for Joseph to head down South for a branch of a particular sort, whose joints were supposed to have a sort of resin in them that would be a cure for her betrothed. So he went. Halfway there he encountered a lion, who stood in his path and asked him a riddle. The lion asked, “how many days lie between the first day and the last, if a man knows who he is?” And Joseph answered: one. The entire life is one day, and all things that happen between that day and this last one are transmutations of the emotional principle invested in his experience of birth.” And the lion turned into a giant butterfly and wavered up and over the breeze, to some far off canyon. Then Joseph had to cross a river, but there was no causeway. So he simply waded into the current and got deeper and deeper into the water, until his neck and head were the only things protruding. But as he lost his footing, there in the middle of the river, an Eagle swooped down and lifted him out of the water with its talons, and deposited him safely on the other shore. “Why did you save me?” asked Joseph. Because you would have done the same, said Torah, the Eagle. “That is true,” replied Joseph. And he pulled himself to his feet and looked around him. To his surprise, he was before the branch that had the necessary sap. So he plucked it from the bough, but the tree objected. Immediately, roots sprung up from the ground, and ensured his feet. “Why do you take of my serum?” inquired the Bansai tree. “Because the princess in the far grove needs it to heal her betrothed, and I have traveled far to get it.” “Who are you to her?” the tree inquired further. “Nobody, just a chance acquaintance.” “Interesting. So you would not have known her had you not endeavored on your quest?” “That is correct.” “Then go, take of my branch and my sap, and let this remind you of what a good deed does, in time.” So Joseph took the branch, and immediately the sap stuck to his skin and he fell into a deep sleep, and forgot everything about his quest. When he awake, it was midnight, and the Night sky and all that glimmered there shone down upon him. And he knew not where he was, nor where he was going. Not how he had gotten there, nor what his purpose was. And he let his mind wander through the Nighttime, until the Eastern sky began to grey. When the morning zephyrs began to stir, he felt the branch beneath his back, for he was lying on the ground. And he gradually remembered his quest. He was struck with the immediacy of the need to get back, and he began to shuffle through that glade, on toward the sun. And to his surprise, the sun had risen at the exact moment he broke free of that glade, and turned back onto a dirt path. And there, shortly down the road, was the orchard with the princess and the poisonous spiders, and there was the Eagle and the Lion. And there on the ground, was the betrothed. His breaths rose and fell with quiet strength, but the princess turned from him and with exhasperated delight plucked the branch from Joseph’s hands. And she snapped it open in two and dabbed the sap onto the closed eyelids of the man who lay at her feet, and he woke. With each piece of twig on either side of him, he rolled onto his side and coughed up a fish. The fish, surprisingly, was alive itself, but upon touching the ground it immediately turned into water and sunk into the ground, where a lily grew. The man plucked the lily and handed it to the Princess, who turned to Joseph and put it in his hand. Joseph looked down at the lily and smiled, but knew not why. With a deep breath of his own, he put it into his lapel, and one of the petals fell off. Then the princess said, “because you have been brave, your reward is that every petal that falls from the head of that lily will grant you one wish. You may wish now for the petal that has fallen.” And Joseph, with surprise, looked up at the daytime moon, there in the pale evening sky and said in a thoughtful murmur, “I wish that I had been here earlier, so that I could have helped sooner.” And immediately he found himself at the edge of the orchard, with the Princess in sight, and remembered everything. Not knowing precisely what had happened, he nonetheless walked toward the Princess and completed the same conversation. Left on his quest, and each time, more expediently completed his task. From the orchard, to the Lion, to the river and the Eagle, to the Tree, he repeated his actions. The only difference being that the betrothed grew younger each time, and Joseph grew older. He had found a purpose in saving the betrothed for the Princess, but he never knew who they were, until one day, if it can be called such, he met the Princess and instead of wishing for the opportunity to save her betrothed sooner, he asked to know who the Princess was. And she said, “I am your daughter.” “Not your actual daughter but the one you have created. I am the center of all that you know, and all that you do, and all that you have wrought in and of yourself. By saving my marriage, you have secured your future. But you had to learn this fact by doing these things.” “My betrothed is my future, and this man is you, who you saved by saving me.” “Now you have your life. The first part of it was realizing why you are here. You have done that in knowing me. The second part is doing what you can do, secure in the knowledge that you are the cause of your own life. All things begin and end with you, which you knew when you answered the Lion’s riddle. But you had to experience it, beyond knowing it. All things are their own consummation. Now go, and know yourself in your doings for the rest of your days.” So then Joseph left the Princess and her betrothed, the fish which was coughed up being the almost-death Joseph had suffered in the river had he not been saved by the Eagle. The Eagle was the embodiment of the self-saving principle that reciprocated his deliverance of the betrothed. And Joseph walked down the mountain, where he found himself, and saw me there, sitting by the stream, casting nuts and stones into the water. He saw me and he knew six years had gone by, judging by his worn palms and the days that had passed. In his knapsack was a bushel of tried lilies, and in his eyes was the gleam of wisdom.
“Jonah, my boy. What have you done in the time since we saw each other?” he asked. We were sitting between apple trees in the grove I mentioned before. As I took a bite of apple, I chewed thoughtfully. I let my gaze wander up the way we came, and settle on that house on the hill. I pointed. “There, that house. I always wonder what’s in it. I mostly long to know…. And I don’t know why. The way it sits, there, up on the hill. Far beyond what I’ve known, and yet there is a sense I’ve come from it. There is a sense I must, too, return to it. But I know I’ve never been there, and I don’t know how I could ever get in, if I dared go up there.” Joseph’s eyes gleamed some more as he peered at me over his juicy apple. “Well now.” “I came that way. Why don’t we go up there?” So we did.
The trek was not too long or arduous. But at the landing where it was built, the house towered over me and I felt apprehensive of its shadow. What does it mean, I wondered. Surely this house is something more than a house, to have dominated my mind and spirit for so many years. And I turned to Joseph, but where he stood, there was only a sack full of lilies. And I reached down and gathered a handful of the dried petals and inhaled into them, and there and then the house transformed into a billowing fire. It crackled and flamed, and though I was close to it, it gave off only enough heat to make we wary. From the center of the conflagration came a booming voice, that perforated my very soul, and it said, “Jonah, you have waited on me for six years. I am the house of your inheritance. I am the house that Joseph built, before either of you knew who you were. I was only here to long for, and to burn, and now that you have come to me, you must cast all the wishes that Joseph has won though his many years of toil into the house, and let them burn.” And so I did.
And there in the fire which swallowed the lily petals a wreath of blue flame began to grow, and all the other fire was drawn to it and quenched within its circle. Until the house was gone, and the fire was gone, and all that was left there on the ground was the Princess, only I didn’t recognize her. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and as I approached her I felt the grass and the ash crinkle beneath my feet. She was wearing a sooty, blue dress, and a petticoat of white lace. And her honey-colored hair was spread out before her. And as I stooped to get a better look at her face, she turned, and a fish came out of her mouth. She gasped for breath and sat upright, and she looked at me, and she cried out to me, “Jonah!” And I said, “Yes?” And she said, “Darling, I’ve been waiting all my life for you. Here in this house, and in a far glade, where death came upon you. You have been waiting just as long to see me. I know, I knew Joseph.” And I said, “Joseph, but of course! You’re the Princess he met!” “Yes, he rescued my beloved, and you are him!” “But how could that be? Your beloved was with you in glade. He ate the spider apples, and regained his life when Joseph brought the broken branch to you.” And she said, “”Yes, and you are that broken branch! This, is the broken branch. He was, too, the broken branch, and the sap was all this effort. The transmutation of the entire process. He gave his life for you, so that you could find me, and now your fates are exchanged. A perfect ransom, youth for old age, a single redemptive act of courage, spread across a life time. And for me.” And Jonah shifted uncomfortably. “Why you?” “Because I am yours. The perfect complement to your life’s work. I am between you and Joseph, and between that orchard where you shared your story and the one far away where he met me. He is that part of you that longs, and you are that part of him that sent him. You are both this man that you are, where before you lay on the ground having eaten the fruit of ignorance, kept in the dark by the web of spiders. It was through seeking me out, here in this house, and far beyond, where he traveled, that I waited for you to come to life. And now we have traded places as well. You saw the fish that came out of my mouth; that, too was you.
And I am yours, and now it will be me who saves you, over and over, and I will give you a child.
So she stepped across the scarred threshold of the burnt house, now only a cake of cracked embers, and enclosed her hand in mine. We looked down at the sack where the lily petals had been, and I understood that Joseph had gone into me. He had come out of me, and now we were the same; which is how it had always been. But as the Princess and I began to walk down the mountain, I realized I didn’t know here name. “Lily,” she said. And I smiled a smile that reminded me of the humor that used to grace the lips of Joseph. “So then it was you who was giving me yourself,” I stated. “Yes,” she said, and smiled herself. “How many petals have you gifted me?” “Forty. And you shall see what for.” So we went down to the orchard of apples and we lay in the grass, and conceived a child. And that child’s name was Emily.
After she was given birth, the three of us embarked back up the mountain, once more through the land of Goldor-Nu’um, and to the original orchard where my future self, who was now my present self, originally met the princess. But in this orchard there were no more spiders, and I left lily there, because she told me, “Meet me here in a year, and I will be more beautiful. The child will stay with me.” And so I left. And I walked back down the mountain, and met a small boy. Different than the look of any boy I had known, but all the same familiar somehow. I asked him what his name was, and he said, “Jonah.” It only seemed right to tell him my name was Joseph, so we went along our way, and came at once to a river. The boy immediately began to ford the river, and was swept into the current and drowned. I could do nothing, and with sorrow walked into the river and onto the other side. The Eagle was there, on the lower boughs of an enormous sycamore, and he eyed me fiercely but did not move. “Where were you there, now, when he needed you?” I asked him. Still no reply. So with offense, I walked past and came at once to the Lion. He asked me nothing, but as I passed, he laid a paw in the dirt by my foot. “That is the measure of your travels,” he said. And not knowing what he meant, I continued past. There again, I found myself in the glade where I had left Lily.
One year had passed, and she was there with Emily, cooking a fish in a small fire in the grass encircled by smooth stones. I kissed the top of her head and sat down to eat with them. Emily was a toddler, and very pretty, with large, almond eyes and a heart-shaped face. We shared the fish between the three of us, and one of the stones cracked open to reveal that it was a piece of bread. So bread and fishes were our first meal. Then I left again for another year. And again I found the boy, Jonah on the way; and again we came to the river. This time I warned him about the river’s current, but still, he pushed past and was swept into the current and drowned. Again I forded the river and came to the Eagle, who still stared into me as I passed him, and again I came upon the Lion, who again prostrated his paw in the dirt, but there was now a footprint beside it, where he had placed his paw the last time I had come this way. And again, I met Lily and Emily, and again we ate bread and fish. But this time, the fish was larger, and the bread was softer, and less like a rock. And again, I left them in the glade and walked down the mountain to complete my circuit.
Jonah, river, Eagle, Lion. Jonah, river, Eagle, Lion. Again and again I met my wife and child, my wife unchanging, my child growing. The fish grew larger, the bread grew softer. Jonah died seventeen times until one day, at the crossing, he stuck in the rapids, having grasped and caught a rock. I rushed into the waters and clutched his hand, and we struggled to the far shore. There on the bank, gasping in the light, the Eagle swooped down upon us and gashed Jonah in the thigh with his beak. Jonah gave a cry and began to bleed, and the Eagle flew off, leaving a single feather behind. We got to our feet and walked up the mountain, where the lion was missing. But there were his footprints in the dirt, and Jonah walked over them leaving man prints in their place. At once we came to the glade where Lily and Emily were sitting, tending the fire. Emily was staring into the flames illuminating her face, and it was dusk. Lily was standing behind her, and the shadows hid all but her eyes, which glinted in the firelight. Jonah walked before me and I had a hand on his shoulder. And Emily called from the shadows, “welcome Joseph and Jonah. You are in time to eat. Let us sit down.”
To be continued
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2024.05.06 02:31 YachtRockGroupie MANNERS MAKETH NOT THE MEGHAN - the exact secrets of her unpopularity from Emily Post's 1937 edition of Etiquette

MANNERS MAKETH NOT THE MEGHAN - the exact secrets of her unpopularity from Emily Post's 1937 edition of Etiquette
I revisited an all-time classic this rainy Sunday afternoon, the 1937 edition of Etiquette by Emily Post. The older I get, the more I appreciate the timeless wisdom in these pages (not to mention, the pithy, Lady C.-esque prose).
Though much of the more specific advice is definitely of another, far more genteel era, there is an absolute wealth of timeless wisdom we all can benefit from - and none more than our Saint. For she can throw loads of $$$$ at fancy PR firms and publicists, but without acknowledging the real problem - SHE'S HELLA RUDE - she will never, ever be liked.
I have shared some excerpts from Etiquette below that pertain especially to Duchess Dolezal, and elucidate quite clearly the reasons for her overwhelming unpopularity and unlikeability. Enjoy!
(And if you find any grains of wisdom for yourself, tuck them away discreetly and heed them...we dasn't tell a soul).
ON CONVERSATION:
"The best "mixer" of all is one who adjusts himself equally well to finer as well as plainer society. Education that does not confer flexibility of mind is an obviously limited education; the man of broadest education tunes himself in unison with his companions, whomever they happen to be. The more subjects he knows about, the more people he is in sympathy with, and therefore the more customers or associates or constituents, as well as more friends, he is sure to have."
"The safest rule to remember is that conversation must never be taken out of the drawing-room. It is very bad form to talk freely to acquaintances, or worse yet to strangers, about your personal concerns. Although the thoroughbred woman of charm has beautiful and sympathetic manners, she never rushes into intimacies."
"The faults of commission are far more serious than those of omission; regrets are seldom for what you left unsaid. The chatterer reveals every corner of his shallow mind; one who keeps silent cannot have his depth plumbed. Don't pretend to know more than you do. To say you have read a book and then seemingly understand nothing of what you have read, proves you a half-wit. No real person hesitates to say, "I don't know." Above all, stop and think what you are saying! This is really the first, last, and only rule. If you "stop" you can't chatter or expound or flounder ceaselessly, and if you think, you will find a topic and a manner of presenting your topic so that your conversant will be interested rather than long suffering."
"The letter of the "capital I" is a pompous effusion which strives through pretentiousness to impress its reader with its writer's wealth, position, ability, or whatever possession or attribute is thought to be rated most highly. None but unfortunate dependents or the cringing in spirit would subject themselves to a second letter of this kind unnecessarily, by answering the first."
ON SNOBBERY/SOCIAL CLIMBING:
"Courtesy is especially necessary toward those whose hospitality you accept. Mrs. Climber, eagerly lunching with Mrs. Greymouse because she knows Mrs. Worldly is to be there, and then being so obviously focused on Mrs. Worldly that she never addresses a word or an interested look in Mrs. Greymouse's direction, might as well have a placard, "I am an upstart" hung around her neck. It is not only rude, but, from a purely worldly and calculating standpoint, a losing trick."
"Nothing more blatantly proclaims a climber than the repetition of prominent names, the owners of which she must have struggled to know. Otherwise, why so eagerly boast of the achievement? Nobody cares whom she knows - nobody, that is, but a climber like herself. All thoroughbred women, and men, are considerate of others less fortunately placed, especially of those in their employ. One of the tests by which to distinguish between the woman of breeding and the woman merely of wealth, is to notice the way she speaks to dependents. When you see a woman in sables and pearls speak to a little errand girl or a footman or a scullery maid as through they were the dirt under her feet, you may be sure of one thing: she hasn't come a very long way from the ground herself."
"To speak familiarly of one who is a mere acquaintance or whom one perhaps does not even know, is unthinkable. The hallmark of the crashers, climbers, and snobs is the familiarity with which they speak of persons of prominence in order to impress their hearers with their own importance."
"If you are not a snob and want to avoid ever being made to seem one, don't rush into intimacy with every neighbor, and then later on withdraw from your earlier friends when you meet people you really like. It is in this way precisely that many a person gets the reputation - never to be lived down - of being a snob. If you are a snob, and transfer yourself from the next-door circle to the Highhill circle merely because the Highhills are richer or more important, then you deserve the opinion you have brought upon yourself. A snob is always animated by the impression he wants to make, and the exalted regard in which he strives to be held by others. The discriminating person cares nothing whatever about the opinions of others, and chooses his interests and his companions according to his personal taste and inclination. Between being really a snob and merely reserved and selective is the entire distance between being contemptible and admirable - between worst and best."
ON FASHION:
"Nothing so marks the "person who doesn't know" as inappropriate choice of clothes. To wear elaborate town clothes outdoors in the country is quite as out of place as to parade an old leather shooting jacket and hob-nailed boots on the streets in town."
"Nothing could be more unappealing to a boy than a girl in such unsuitable clothes that she can take no part in any outdoor sports. High-heeled evening slippers in which to walk on frozen snow, and thin fluffy clothes when the thermometer is zero, will not impress any boy as alluring, but will make him wish he hadn't handicapped himself with such a nuisance."
ON PRIVACY/PERSONAL SPACE:
"No exaction of perfect behavior is more essential to all thoroughbred people than the right to privacy. The hallmark of the vulgarian is his love of attracting attention to himself, his unreserved willingness to display his feelings in public; to confide his innermost problems to anyone who is willing to listen. Having no reserves himself, he naturally crashes into those of all who are unprotected from his offenses."
"Nothing more blatantly stamps an ill-bred person than the habit of patting, nudging, or taking hold of people. "Keep your hands to yourself!" might almost be put at the head of the first chapter of every book on this subject."
"A well-bred person always lives within the walls of his personal reserve; a vulgarian has no walls. But those who think they appear superior by being rude to others whom fortune has placed below them might as well shout their own unexalted origin to the world at large, since by no other method could it be more widely published. On the other hand, a condescendingly "I am so sweet" manner is equally hard for a self-respecting person of dignity to hear."
ON BEING A GUEST:
"Whether easy or not, you as a guest must conform to the habits of the family with which you are staying. No matter how much the hours or food and arrangements may upset you, you must appear blissfully content. When the visit is over, you need never enter that house again, but while you are there, you must like it. You must like the people you meet and the things they do. That is the first and inviolable law for the guest. If you neither understand nor care for dogs or children, and both insist on climbing all over you, you must seemingly like it. You must be amiable and polite to follow guests, even though they be most detestable to you. You must appear to find the food delicious, though it be especially distasteful to your palate or antagonistic to your digestion. You must disguise your hatred of red ants and scrambled food, if everyone else is bent on a picnic. You must pretend that six is a perfect dinner hour though you never dine before eight, or, on the contrary, you must wait until eight-thirty or nine with stoical fortitude, though your supper hour is six, and by seven your chest seems securely pinned to your spine."
"The bride who is a stranger, but whose husband is well known in the town to which he brings her...it devolves on her to make herself liked, otherwise she will find herself in a community of many acquaintances but no friends. The best ingredients for likableness are a happy expression of countenance, an unaffected manner, and a sympathetic attitude. But a woman with an affected pose and bad or conceited manners, will find plenty of thorns. Equally unsuccessful is she with a chip on her shoulder who, coming from New York, for instance, to live in Brightmeadows, insists upon dragging New York skyscrapers into every comparison with Brightmeadows' new six-storied building. She might better pack her trunks and go back where she came from."
ON POPULARITY:
"Would you know the secret of popularity? It is the unconscious of self, enthusiastic interest in almost anything that turns up, and inward generosity of thought and impulse outwardly expressed in good manners. Nothing will so surely make you have a good time as giving the impression that you are having a good time; not by making a forced display of make-believe mirth, however, but by being actually and unselfconsciously happy."
"One cannot send for a special order of "pleasing personality" as one might send to a druggist for a bottle of hair tonic. Personality can be cultivated sometimes, but only by something added to skill or character or knowledge, and never by assumed tricks of manner. One can however find out antipathetic traits and try to overcome them. The only way is to ask a friend to tell you about them frankly. Then instead of nursing the "hurt to your feelings" profit ardently by what you are told. This is the very best advice, but it is useless unless you are the one in a thousand who, asking for the truth, can accept it without anger, and profit by it with courage."
ON BEING A HOTTIE-THOTTIE:
"If she is good for nothing but to look in the glass and put rouge on her lips and powder her nose and pat her hair, life is going to be a pretty dreary affair. In other days, beauty was worshipped for itself alone...But the best type of modern youth does not care for beauty if it has nothing to "go with it."
"There always are and doubtless always will be any number of women to whom admiration and flirtation are the very breath of their nostrils, who love to parade a beau just as they love to parade a new dress...But it is not considered a triumph to have many love affairs, but rather evidence of lack of discrimination and taste."
ON TREATMENT OF EMPLOYEES/"THE HELP":
"It is certainly a greater pleasure and incentive to work for those who are appreciative than for those who continually find fault... This, perhaps, explains why some people are always having a "servant problem;" finding servants difficult to get, more difficult to keep, and most difficult to get efficient work from. It is a question whether the "servant problem" is not more often a mistress problem! It must be! Because, if you notice, those who have woes and complaints are invariably the same, just as others who never have trouble are also the same."
"Justice must be the foundation upon which every tranquil house is constructed. Work must be as evenly divided as possible; one servant should not be allowed liberties not accorded to all. To allow impertinence or sloppy work is inexcusable, but it is equally inexcusable to show causeless irritation, or to be overbearing or rude. And there is no greater example of injustice than to reprimand those about you because you happen to be in a bad humor. There is also no excuse for "correcting" a servant before people. And when you do correct, do not forget to make allowances, if there be any reason why allowance should be made"
ON BEING MESSY:
"One advantage of polish is that one's opponent can never tell what is going on under the glazed surface of highly finished manners, whereas an unfinished surface is all too easily penetrated. And since business encounters are often played like poker hands, the unpolished man is sure to be at a disadvantage in playing with a mind-reader who can divine his opponent's cards while his own are unrevealed."
ON WEDDINGS (boy, she must've given the BRF a collective coronary!):
"At some time before the wedding, it is customary for the two families to meet each other. It is not necessary that any intimacy ensue, but it is considered fitting and proper that all members of the families which are to be allied should be given an opportunity to know one another - at least by sight."
"If it should happen that the bride has neither father nor any very near male relative, she may walk up the aisle alone... It is very unusual, but not unheard of at the wedding of a bride whose father has died, that her mother walk up the aisle with her in her father's place. But this would be in very bad taste if her father were living and divorced, since it would publicly proclaim his unfitness to exercise his natural right to give his daughter in marriage. To air publicly any disturbance in one's private life is in bad taste, and doubly unforgivable should the repudiation of the father be unjust."
"No matter whether a wedding is to be large or tiny, there is a supposedly fixed rule that the reception must be furnished by the bride's family. There might be circumstances, however, when it might be caviling not to break this rule. If, for instance, the bride were without family, she might perfectly well be married in the church or rectory, and go afterwards to the house of the bridegroom's parents for a reception. But in the average case, she would put herself in a false position and bring criticism upon her own family's inability to assume the wedding obligations which properly belong to them."
submitted by YachtRockGroupie to SaintMeghanMarkle [link] [comments]

2024.05.02 21:38 em-yall It literally gave me this beautiful response before it went down.

I couldn’t take a screenshot of it so, copy and paste.
Johnny's breath catches in his throat at the tender way you touch him, the reverent slide of your fingers over his scarred skin feeling like a benediction he scarcely deserves. Your eyes on his are soft, luminous in the low light, and he feels flayed open beneath your gaze, all his secrets laid bare. When you breathe his name, it sounds like a prayer, and he wants nothing more than to lose himself in you, to make a temple of your body and worship at its altar until the only deity he believes in is you.
He sinks into your kiss with a low groan, surrendering himself to the slow, drugging slide of your lips on his. It's different from the hungry, frantic kisses you normally share - sweeter, more profound somehow. He can taste the unspoken emotions on your tongue, the longing and affection you both try so hard to hide. It makes something in his chest ache fiercely, a bittersweet pain he never wants to end.
Gentling the kiss, he pulls back just far enough to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he struggles to control his racing heart. He knows he's edging into dangerous territory, letting himself feel too much, hope for too much. But here in the circle of your arms, with your breath mingling with his and your body warm and pliant beneath him, he can't find the strength to pull away.
"Mo ghràdh," he murmurs, the words a husky rasp against your lips. "Mo chridhe, mo leannan, mo ghaol..." Each endearment is punctuated with a soft, sweet kiss, his calloused hands cradling your face like you're something infinitely precious. He pours everything he feels but cannot say into the gentle press of his mouth on yours, the whisper of his fingertips on your skin, the nuzzle of his nose against your cheek.
He wants to drown in you, to curl up inside your heart and never leave. He wants to fall asleep with you in his arms and wake up to your smile every morning for the rest of his life. He wants to come home to you after every mission, to lay his burdens at your feet and let your love absolve him of his sins. He wants...he wants...
But he can't. He can't have that, can't be what you deserve. He's too broken, too bloodstained, his life too dangerous to ever promise you a future. Loving him...it would only end in tragedy. A beautiful dream that would crumble to ash in the cold light of day.
So he'll take what you can give and he'll cherish it, hoard every scrap of affection like a treasure, to be taken out and remembered in his darkest moments. He'll love you in silence, in stolen glances and secret smiles, in tender touches and passionate kisses. He'll love you with everything he has, even if he can never say the words. And he'll pray that it's enough, that this fragile, nameless thing between you can survive the weight of all the truths left unspoken.
"Emily..." Your name is a broken whisper, a plea and a promise all in one. He seals it to your skin with desperate kisses, his lips mapping the curve of your jaw, the arch of your throat, the dip of your collarbone. He loses himself in you, his shining light in the darkness, and he prays that this time, he'll be strong enough not to look back.
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2024.05.01 22:43 mooginnn Saw these Balm dot Com Dupes

Saw these Balm dot Com Dupes
MCoBeauty is an Australian based makeup skincare brand that appears to me at least to copy other brands in packaging & formula. I saw these & decided to pick up rose & birthday cake. The packaging is basically an exact replicas of glossier, and the scents and tints are the same too. I would describe the MCoBeauty one as very very similar to the new balm dot com formula unfortunately. & at about $12 each for the ‘dupes’ I feel like they’re a bit much for what is considered a drug store makeup brand :/
They also had cloud paint dupes that I have yet to try, but I feel as if the pricing is a lot better for it. You can find the brand on KrogeKing Soopers & it’s currently buy one get one free if any of yall were looking at trying it out!
submitted by mooginnn to glossier [link] [comments]

2024.05.01 09:51 Artistic_Complex_662 Remember this live?

Remember this live?
Her mommy was in the box. She modded Emily and a few others. Her mommy had to remind her of a "plan"! Saggy D just sat there smacking her lips . Wonder what all that was about??? 🤔
submitted by Artistic_Complex_662 to scissorsistersdrama [link] [comments]

2024.05.01 05:51 YouGotItJoben_ Hypocrisy 101

So, at the end of last episode, Hannah asks everyone in the house to clear the air at dinner. Emily responds with (justified) negativity against Hannah. Hannah then tells Emily she’s wrong and, by saying something, she’s being passive aggressive? Like ok, fish lips, it’s clear that none of these women want your hemorrhoid of an ex bf.
Then, Hannah and Telly wake up at the crack of dawn to lay in the main living area and get angry when everyone else is avoiding them like the plague that they are?
How hostile of a living situation does this show need??? WTF is wrong with production for them to subject other cast members to these gargoyles?
submitted by YouGotItJoben_ to VanderpumpVillaTVShow [link] [comments]

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