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queenie-official · 7 months

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‘Winter Wonderland’ Modern!Ani

main masterlist

Pairing: Modern!Anakin x reader

a/n: this is a part 2 for another post i made. first part is here, but it can be read on its own as well. this one’s for you @luvskywxlker 🫶🏼🤭 (so using what we talked about in the last one btw🌝

❄️- with winter comes snow and with snow comes a very childish Anakin.

you both where walking out of his mom’s house finishing up a visit with her. you hadn’t really bundled up because anakin had parked his car right at the curb and you didn’t see the point when you’d be in a car with the heaters on full blast in no time.

that was your first mistake, the second mistake you made was not taking into account that the snow that had been gently falling from the sky earlier was now piled up on the ground.

fluffy, white, cold and glistening with temptation like shiny treasure. you hadn’t even noticed when Anakin’s steps had slowed, going from walking in tandem beside you to now behind your back.

that’s when you felt it, your eyes widening when you felt a snowball hit your head. bursting and spreading its cold ice all over your hair. spinning on your heel sharply you face the culprit who has a cheeky grin with flushed cheeks from the cold.

he’s looking off to the side pretending like it wasn’t him, as if there was anyone else around who could be responsible.

“Ani!” you shout at him, brows knitted together paired with a glare.

“what?” he asks exaggeratedly, feigning innocence.

“what do you mean what! that was totally you” you argue, crossing your arms in defense.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about sweetheart” he says with a shrug, giving you a tight lipped smile as he continues the walk to the car as if nothing happened.

you huff before a mischievous smile grows on your face. as soon as he’s in front of you, you give him a taste of his own medicine. bending over you grab a handful of snow and quickly compact it into a ball.

as soon as it hits his head which you’re honestly shocked it did because you have horrible aim. he spins around and you find yourself wishing you’d put on a jacket and gloves as soon as you see the look in his eyes.

you weren’t going to back down though and neither was he, a snowball fight quickly ensued as well as escalated. you both only stopped when you heard the front door to Shmi’s house open, whipping your heads to the door like children who’d been caught doing no good.

“what on earth are you two doing?” Shmi asks with a laugh, a faux scolding voice laced in her words.

“Nothing!” you both say in unison causing Shmi to laugh harder, waving you both off before heading back inside with a smile on her face as she closes the door.

you turn back to Anakin making eye contact as you share a look, brows raised and eyes wide before you both burst out into laughter. it’s only then that you realize how cold you are. shivering as you walk over to him, hands cold and wet from the snow.

you pout at him as you look up into his eyes. “I’m cold” you say watching as he raises a brow.

“yea?” he asks, pulling you into his hold. wrapping his arms around you as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “i know a way to make you warmer”

you blush as he pulls back to look at your face, already beginning to grow warm. he gently grabs hold of the side of your face cradling your cheek wanting to lean in for a kiss. you pull away from him with a grimace causing him to pout.

“your hand is freezing” you say with a wrinkled nose. watching as he rolls his eyes. “way to ruin the moment” he sighs out causing you to giggle.

“well i guess we better head home. and then you can warm me up properly” you say while wiggling your brows, bringing back the heat that he’d caused from his words before.

both of you are quick to hurry to the car after that.

❄️- what’s a better way to spend the day then cuddled up in Anakin’s arms while you both lay on the couch? there isn’t a better way, you’re sure of that in fact.

the only sounds that echo throughout the room as you too cuddle is the fire crackling and both of your soft breathing.

your eyes are closed as you rest your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his beating heart. Anakin’s gaze is focused outside the window, the streetlights warm glow lighting up the falling snow.

It had been a pretty harsh blizzard all day, only calming within the last hour. you and Anakin both happily welcomed the blizzard though, allowing both of you to stay home instead of go to your college classes.

you let out a content sigh as you feel Anakin gently rubbing your back, the warmth of his hands making you smile softly as his touch trails up your arm. goosebumps litter your skin in turn, a giddy feeling in your heart as you allow yourself to fully enjoy this moment.

you couldn’t think of anything that could possibly make this peaceful moment better, until Anakin spoke up. “we should make hot cocoa” as soon as the suggestion leaves his lips your head shoots up. a warm smile and giddy look in your eyes as you look into his.

he bites back a smile of his own, letting out a deep chuckle. “i’ll take that as a yes?” he asks with a small head tilt, rubbing small circles on your arm with his thumb as you prop yourself up on him.

you take a moment to think it over before pursing your lips. “but that means we have to move” you sigh lazily, not wanting to move from his warm embrace and just in general. “do you want hot cocoa or not?” he raises a teasing brow at you, reaching up and tucking a peace of hair behind your ear that had fallen in front of your face.

“yea, but i’d rather keep cuddling” you rest your head back down, nuzzling your face into his neck and wrapping your arms around him.

you feel anakin pull you tighter against him right before you’re hoisted up as he stands. you let out a small squeal as he stretches slightly with you clinging onto him like a koala.

you forget how strong this man is sometimes. he carries you into the kitchen as you cling to him like it’s nothing- though to be fair for him it is nothing.

he places you on the counter, but you still refuse to let go of him. keeping your legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, as he opens the cabinets above you to grab your favorite mug as well as his.

you can’t help but smile as he maneuvers around with you as he makes the hot chocolate. it was all so domestic and warm, a beautiful contrast to the wintery outside. the sound of boiling water pulls you from your thoughts, and you feel the steam wafting against your back as he pours the water into the mugs.

“think you can hold yourself up while i hold the hot chocolate?” Anakin asks as he looks down at your face. you give a small nod and he grabs the two mugs walking you both back to the living room as you hold on tighter then before making sure you don’t slip.

As soon as he plops down on the couch you shift around in his lap, careful not to bump his arms so he doesn’t spill anything. once you’re comfortable with your back to his chest he hands you your hot cocoa and then wraps his arms around you as he holds his own. nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and giving a soft kiss as you both wait for your drinks to cool.

yea there’s no better way to spend the day then cuddled up in Anakin’s arms, and the winter just added an extra warmth to the whole ordeal ironically.

okay i hope you all love this 🤭 i’ve been in a fluffy modern Anakin kinda mood- and i was also listening to ‘One i’ve been missing’ by little mix on repeat while i wrote this soooo the winter vibes where at a all time high🥰

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headspace-hotel · 1 year

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Hello! I've been loving your recent posts about taking an interest in, and connecting with, nature. I was wondering if you and/or your followers had any book(or any other media too tbh) recommendations?

I just started Braiding Sweetgrass, which I'm very excited for, and How Plants Work by Stephen Blackmore, which I found just by looking up the words in a frustrated attempt to, well, learn more about how plants work. Some stuff there does go over my head or needs re-reads and taking it slow, but that's ok. I'm making up for a lot of lost time and education/lived experience here.

Aside from wanting a personal/philosophical starting point, I want to learn about plants & their physiology in order to form an intuition for how to grow and tend to them, as a hobbyist? I know it also takes learning about every plant in particular when aiming for this, but I still feel lost without a... mechanistic, logical, overview/understanding? I also know that this framing itself is a bit reductive given how bonkers plants can be, but this is my best articulation of what I want to ask. I can feel my molecules vibrating as the special interest takes shape but i'm also still at the point where I would send this kind of ask.

If you've read this far, I apologize for the ask length, and thank you! You've been a joy to see on my dash. I wish you all the best!

I think I understand what you mean. I had to learn that stuff through trial and error, transplanting plants and learning about their physical needs that way. I don't know very much from books sadly.

The biggest things I learned had to do with roots. A plant's roots are their vital organs. Plants handle having the above ground parts damaged or disturbed WAY better than having their roots disturbed. When transplanting, you MUST keep the "main" taproot (if there is one) intact. However, you also need a quantity of the very thin, thread-like roots. If there are not enough fibrous roots, the plant will not survive transplanting.

Plants need stability in the conditions of their roots. I think the main reason why a too-small pot is detrimental is that it causes the temperature and moisture of the roots to flop around too much.

Plants don't need water just in the way that you need to drink water, they need water in the way that you need to moisturize your skin to keep it from drying out. I think they're a little bit amphibious. It is helpful for their soil to remain consistently slightly damp, and not soggy.

I have learned some important things about the value of weeds, also. It is true that aggressive weeds can outcompete a small plant, but having some vegetation on the ground around a plant you have planted is very beneficial. Shade for the soil stops moisture from evaporating and stops the soil from heating up. People who mow their grass really short have to water it far, far beyond the requirements of the grass itself because the water is just evaporating before it can penetrate into the compacted lawn soil.

Very few plants can thrive in unobstructed direct full sun when they are small! It will cook them! This is contrary to a lot of the stuff I read on the internet—a website tells me that most young trees need full sun to grow well. How, pray tell, do forests work then?

People think forests are places of starvation from sunlight and intense competition, but in reality, forests are stable, regulated environments that offer protection from the extreme conditions that occur in a barren place. The temperature and moisture on the forest floor is heavily buffered, allowing delicate plants to thrive.

Also, most tree species rely on the presence of other trees to shield them from storm and ice damage—only some, like strong oaks, thrive when open-grown. Every open-grown maple I see has the scars of losing many limbs over time. The poor things are too delicate to be without the protection of other trees.

Spending time in the woods really makes you notice how scruffy and mangled most yard trees are, scarred by having branches repeatedly cut or ripped off, sprouting suckers and adventitious branches from stress. People are too eager about pruning branches off trees. It seems like they cut random limbs off because that's just what you're supposed to do. But this can introduce pathogens and cause the whole tree to die eventually. At the very least it causes a lot of stress.

There are several sweetgum trees in my neighborhood, in the middle of nice lawns, that are slowly strangling themselves to death because landscape fabric and mulch was piled up around their bases and it caused the roots to start girdling the tree. Please! Leave them alone! No big mulch piles, no landscape fabric.

#trees #plants #gardening #growing

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sadlynotthevoid · 5 months

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Last night I had this dream where lcf people lived in a modern earth with mostly normal loves, but magic stuff still existed. And that was fine but for some reason Rosalyn, Lock, Choi Han and Alberu went on a travel— I think they were going to meet with Rok Soo, because he and the kids appeared later on— and decided to drag og!Cale with them.

Let me be clear: this was not a reincarnation AU. Not a transmigration AU either. They just bumped into og!Cale and carried him over despite not having anything to do with him.

Og!Cale still went along with it. I think partly because he was bored, so why not. And in part because og!Cale is actually a good person, way better than he thinks, and doesn't need an excuse (to himself) to help if he wants to.

Anyways, at some point they ended in this bar/restaurant/karaoke-like place (don't ask me, I think my brain based it on that place on Victorious where the girls had a sing battle) and they needed a distraction. I think they may had been trying to steal something from Adin because Raon said something about that.

While the group was talking, Cale walked to a blond guy nearby— who I swear must had been Banri from UniteUp! (I don't know why my brain decided on this sudden cameo. I only watched more or less half of the anime)— and asked if they had a compact mirror to lend to him. Then he (Cale) took out a little red bag from his pocket and pulled a full disguise (with wig and everything) and a make up kit out of it. Why did he have all that but not a simple mirror? Who knows.

And you think that he was going to sing or something? No.

Once he's completely dressed up— he looked like an adrogynous classy pirate or a fantasy-like musketeer, but with a mask. His wig was lilac and shiny, btw— he walks to the scenery. He rises his hand and opens his mouth—

No words, only a full vocal somehow harmony. Something pulled out of those 'dramatic magic ritual' anime scenes. It sounded like there were at least three people singing, but that might be Cale's voice echoing (...or my brain listened to too much "beautiful vocal song" videos).

Immediately, balls of light started to appear in the air. Starting from one, two, then a few and so, until the whole place was filled with them.

Then Cale lowered his hand fast—

—And a whole horde of will-o-wisp flew straight up against Adin.

---

I don't know what happened next because I woke up, damn it. But also, there was a scene that I couldn't fit chronologically, but that I like.

It was just Cale doing ice skating with the will-o-wisp dancing around him.

Btw, Adin must had shitted his pants. Imagine a thousand of mysterious glowing balls, you don't know what are those nor where did they come from, and suddenly they are all attacking you.

#og!cale henituse #original cale henituse #og cale henituse #my weird dreams #adin deserved it #i guess it was harmless tho #but still a good jumpscare

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vuldak-juneau · 10 days

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@jamieprice Location: Hrimthur’s Outpost Time: A few days before the full moon. Notes: Time to get up to some shenanigans

The moon hovered high overhead, the light it gave off distorted as it shone through the icy windows, but so long as the moon wasn’t full Juneau cared little about what factors muted its light in the small shack she shared with a strange witch and dhampir she aligned herself with. Adrian was almost certainly asleep at this time but with the approach of her first vuldak shift and the uncertainties it held sleep had become harder and harder to come by for the mangy-looking little blonde. Juneau took a deep breathe to try and settle some of her nerves and lifted her hand into one of the moonbeams floating through the room, watching as it tinted her fingers green, her wrist a reddish maroon color, and her forearm a tawny color. Days earlier, she had melted a layer of the thick sheet of ice that had accumulated on the window and stuck whatever she could find against the window–some pulverized pine needs, the skins of berries that were best left uneaten, and the remains of a rare cup of tea. In the day, when the warmer beams of the sun illuminated the room through the window, it could almost look nice, but tonight, alone and anxious, it felt more like she had built a cathedral to her misery.

There were times when Juneau craved these small moments, vacuums of silence out on the edge of the world when the rest of her days felt too crowded and she could smell the desperation on others… This was now how she felt tonight. Something had changed within her after that night in the farmer’s field when they had ended her life but failed to kill her truly. Perhaps she had not known it at the time, but something new was born within her as she rose from their damaged crops, strewn with her own blood, the next day. She did not understand everything now, the full implications of becoming a vuldak, but she understood that it felt like something rode along with her now, inside of her now, whether it was the genuine presence of the Dark One as the girl, Alessia, had mentioned in the small cave in Nornwatch Tower or it was simply her own lamentations personified.

She didn’t want to be alone with it.

Juneau rose from her sleeping pad as quietly as she could and pulled on her warmest layers and boots before gingerly opening the door to the frigid night air. With a precise hand, she managed to close the creaking door nearly silently behind her to leave Adrian to his dreams before she followed the short trail of compacted snow that followed the perimeter of the house to the opening of the cellar. She rapped at the half-rotted plywood door with the tips of her fingers, not waiting for Jamie to respond before calling out, “Kettle, I’m bored.” She’d rather cut off her left hand than admit it wasn’t boredom that brought her to his door, it was loneliness.

#u almost got to see those juneau toesies #jamie #jamie 02

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hannukahmatata · 10 months

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Inconvenient Attraction - for doc ock

Everything was so important and so stupid, but this was particularly stupid.

Luminous was ducked into the crevice under a bridge, catching precious breaths as she tried to process the events of the last twenty minutes. Overhead she could hear the thump-chk-thump of those... things hitting concrete and finding purchase as if it were ice beneath snow cleats, the kind with spikes that always unnerved her at utility shoe stores.

He was overhead, looking for her and the weird suitcase she'd managed to snatch from him. It was an effective if half-baked plan. Step one, which was to take the thing he was stealing and lure him away from civilians, had worked like a dream.

She did not have a step two. Normally Luminous was better about this, but between the very short notice (Spidey ringing her literally minutes into the event while he was managing some eloquent dinosaur-thing that was terrorizing a different building) and her own distraction, she found herself off-balance while trying to combat her new opponent.

Thunk. Chunk.

"I know you're here," a deep and deceptively pleasant voice called from above, "why don't you come out so we can properly introduce ourselves?"

He also threw her off-balance in general.

She'd heard of Doc Ock before, but the Daily Bugle did nothing to communicate the sheer size of him. He'd scared the shit out of her when she stepped into the building he was robbing and, confronted, risen to his full height with those four things splaying out around his shoulders. Spidey's voice was still in her shitty earpiece then, but she barely heard him as her heart dropped into her stomach. Jesus Christ on a bicycle, he was huge.

He'd flashed a toothy, lopsided smile at her - "Well, who might this be?" - and chaos had erupted.

She could still hear that smile now as he kept speaking overhead.

"You know, that was pretty impressive work I saw back there. Maybe you could give me a better demonstration of how those powers work, hm?" Flattery or taunting? It was hard to tell. Either way she pulled herself into the crevice a little tighter - she'd warp away to hide the suitcase before dealing with him, but there was nowhere she could see, and therefore nowhere for her to go, but down into the churning water below.

The initial fight had been a clusterfuck. She'd been expecting the limbs but wasn't ready for the height, and the shock gave him the opening for an early strike. She'd barely dodged (and he'd ripped her freaking mantle), and from there -

if she was being honest, it wasn't so much a fight as it was a flail. His four extraneous limbs would not give her an opening to get close and land a good punch, which was what she needed because he swatted away her crystal conjures like scattering flies.

She had managed to back him outside while a tangle of limbs and flashes of light struggled to find purchase with each other, and then, in a fit of sudden overstimulation, she'd just... grabbed the suitcase and ran.

"What's going on over there?" She'd heard Spidey in her ear. "I told you you'd be able to take him!"

"You told me he was a scientist, not that he was some goddamn eldritch Goliath!"

She'd heard him laugh back there when she said that. It was a deceptively nice sound.

Luminous had run for quite a few minutes, still shouting to Spidey between jumps, turns and dives. Colossus, titan, behemoth and homunculus were also all tossed out somewhere in her breathless ranting while she sprinted, platforms beneath her feet lifting her over traffic and giving her the slightest head start.

In truth, he was probably a perfectly reasonable six feet and some spare inches; but between the four extra limbs (suddenly "Doc Ock", a name she'd laughed at before, sounded deeply threatening) and her own compact stature, he loomed over her like the shadow of some eldritch monster. Hadn't he been a respected nuclear physicist? Had he been able to get people to go near him back then when he looked like a goddamn-

"There you are, dear."

Oh, fuck.

A red light stared at her from where it curved over the bridge. She shot out a blast, hitting it square in the face, and it retreated. As she tried to pull herself from her hiding spot to stand on the air beneath, however, three more emerged to peer at her before grasping onto the concrete. Should have called himself Hydra, she thought, if the name wasn't already taken. Doctor Hydra?

It didn't matter. She took several steps back as the doctor pulled himself down - seemingly undisturbed by gravity, he remained perfectly upright in his descent, pausing only to glance at her feet with nothing beneath them, several feet above the water.

"That's an interesting trick." His attention turned to her - and he dove. She jumped out of the way of swinging arms, careful to direct herself away from her hiding place where the suitcase waited behind a concrete pole. His attention was, thankfully and unfortunately, all on her - her fists connected with claws and sent them in recoil before they reared back, something he seemed to regard with mild surprise as two of the other three reared up to take its place.

Diving, weaving, jumping - it was a mess of movement stopped only when one of the claws managed to grab her by the front. Two others stilled (the third holding him up in midair) and anchored him tight to the bridge, while the one under her arms and pressed to her stomach started to retract.

For a second she expected the thing to try to crush her. Instead she was dragged closer to the doctor, who had grown surprisingly still. He was scrutinizing her, she realized as the distance between them closed for the first time that day. He held her slightly overhead and, now that they were at eye level with each other, she could properly see his face. He had that disarmingly lopsided smile, strong nose and a pair of shockingly nice brown eyes, looking up at her from behind those inscrutable sunglasses. There was a slight twinkle to them.

Everything was so, so stupid.

"Hello, dear," he said, and her heart stuttered. Luminous swallowed.

"I'm in trouble."

"Yes," he said as a clawed thing lifted and aimed for her, "you are."

#canon x OC #doing this instead of catching up on sleep lmao #not tagging this. You get my bullshit or you don't #Doc Ock x Luminous

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mamamittens · 1 year

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For the Fans

Uta (Gen, no pairing)

Warnings: Difficulty traversing snow, getting partially buried, and light slapstick comedy with mild suggestiveness.

@welovemonstergirls

Couldn't really do a lot of the suggested stuff, but I hope it still fits what you were hoping for! I don't usually write for slapstick/physical comedy so it was interesting to try it out.

Word count: 1,254

The problem with surprise concerts is that they can’t every really be a surprise.

Not if you want a bombastic, show-stopping event.

You have to book the venue, clear the space, set up the stage, lights, and safety features to prevent accidents. Uta, very much a full-fledged idol now, was well aware of this. On top of everything else, she was a very distinct kind of person with her wardrobe and dual colored hair. She couldn’t really slap on a hat and call it good. She’d be spotted in moments and swarmed by well-meaning and adoring fans.

So… her very quiet and secret plan needed a much more… different route. No big venue, stage, lights, cameras, or bodyguards. Just a quiet, small concert for young children in need. This meant she’d have to sneak out of her hotel. In the middle of winter. It sure sounded like a good plan when she thought of it. She even added some more winter-appropriate gear to her normal outfit.

White and blue striped stockings, a fluffy bi-colored scarf, and thick mittens. Her jacket zipped up to help keep warm as she made her way down the lesser used stairway. It led right outside thankfully, so she wouldn’t have to go past the front desk. Slowly, and with some difficulty, she pushed open the exit door, a mound of snow piling up against the steps. It had been snowing lightly for hours now, adding to the already picturesque winter landscape.

But she wasn’t here to admire the view. She could do that just as well—and warmer—from her hotel room. Carefully, minding the icy steps, Uta walked out into the shin-deep snow.

Just as she passed the edge of the cover the awning provided, the door slammed shut. Snow instantly falling directly onto her in a heavy cascade that took her breath away. One moment she was standing, gripping the icy railing as she walked down the steps, and the next she was laying in the snow. Partially buried and breathless.

Even with the additions to her wardrobe, Uta felt the freezing weight of snow on top of her back. Thankfully, she wasn’t completely buried, her legs scrambling to provide leverage for her arms. Shoes scrapping against the steps as she pushed her hands through the compact snow and lifting herself up. Gasping for air, Uta shivered. Embarrassed but determined, she stood back up and restarted her trek, brushing snow off of herself as she did so.

The back of the hotel faced the forest. And the hospital was only a few blocks away. The easier way there would be to circle the building and take the paved sidewalk but—as Uta already knew—she’d be spotted in moments. And then her plan for a private concert would be ruined. So, the only other option was to walk along the forest edge until she reached the back of the hospital and hope there was an entrance she could sneak in through. Thankfully, it wouldn’t take too long.

Unfortunately, it meant wading through snow up to her knees. But that’s what her stockings were for!

The moonlight dispersed through the thick cloud cover, making Uta’s walk a little difficult as she crested the many small hills carefully. Nearly slipping down several as she picked her way through. At one point, she had to stray closer to the forest to avoid a sharp incline. The point was to reach the hospital to sing—not to treat a broken leg or rib. Snow crunched under her shoes as she stumbled on the occasional hidden twig or stone.

Next time, Uta swore, she’d wear boots for this. Something with more grip at the very least.

The forest, beautiful and serene as it was, creaked and groaned periodically. Ice and snow strained the branches as more piled on. Deeper inside, Uta noticed the occasional drop of snow piles from higher up. Cascading down the branches until it slammed into the ground with a dull thud. Wary from her pervious experience already, Uta eyed the trees near her and kept moving. The hospital already in view down a steep incline that would be prefect for sledding if she thought to bring anything.

A few more feet and Uta felt comfortable trying her luck when she spotted several abandoned sleds, partially buried in snow and leaning against a thick tree. Right down the incline was a courtyard with playground equipment and benches, all steadily being buried in snow as the night went on. Huffing, Uta smiled and grabbed one. It was a bit small, requiring Uta to bring her legs to her chest, but it would work just fine.

After brushing off the leftover snow, cold enough as it was from her secret walk, Uta set it down and prepared herself.

She just dug her heels into the snow to drag herself closer to the edge when she heard it.

Ominous creaking just above her. The wide branches of the tree behind her straining with heavy snow.

Uta yelped, panicked and startled as she pushed herself down the incline before thinking better of it, narrowly missing being buried in several feet of snow as she shot down the hill. Screaming in fear and delight, Uta’s board spun her around several times as she zipped across the courtyard. Missing playground equipment that she could barely see at her speed.

Only to slam into a massive snowman among many smaller ones.

Uta’s face was too cold to feel the impact properly, but the packed snow gave way easily enough to her force. Knees and shoulders jammed into the bottom of the snowman as she spat out snow in the indent her hoodie made.

Snow creaked and shuddered around her ears as something slammed into her ass. Uta yelped, feet kicking out as she pushed her hands clear through the snow man. Still dizzy, Uta struggled for several moments. Snow piled over her back and legs as the snowman crumbled around her. Finally, Uta freed her head, gasping for air with a hard shudder. After catching her breath, frigid as it was, Uta shoved herself up. Completely demolishing the snowman.

Thoroughly cold and done with this run of bad luck, Uta resolutely trudged up to the back exit quickly. Yanking open the door and giving one final yelp when several handfuls of snow dropped onto her head.

The nurses down the hall gasped, surprised at her appearance and laughing as they rushed over.

“U-Uta?! W-What are you doing here? Oh, honey, why are you covered in snow?” One of the nurses asked with a chuckle, brushing off Uta’s jacket as she shivered.

“I-I wanted to surprise the kids…” Uta whined softly as she shuddered. The nurses laughed, pulling her into the warm building.

“Well, they’re certainly going to be surprised! Come on, dear. Let’s get you cleaned up and something warm to drink before you see the kids. They can wait a few minutes as you put yourself back together.” She offered.

The idea of drinking anything warm made Uta smile.

“Please.”

Dried off and with a piping hot cup of hot chocolate, Uta greeted the children’s ward with a round of excited gasps.

“UTA!?” They cheered, small faces bright with smiles despite their sickly nature.

Much warmer and incredibly pleased, Uta smiled back.

“That’s right! It’s me!” Uta laughed. “I’m here to see my biggest fans!”

While difficult and more than a little embarrassing, Uta knew it was worth it to see the kids’ surprised faces.

#one piece #uta one piece

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bill-the-bise · 2 years

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Chrissy Cunningham x Eddie Munson | fingerprint soulmate au

no i don't have a title i don't write i just had to get this OUT of my brain

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When Chrissy went into a trance that night, he tried not to grab onto her, I mean really, he did, but then she started floating and he was screaming and she wouldn't respond and did I mention she was fucking floating? So he wrapped his hand around her ankle, yanking downward, and pulled her down until she was at eye level, grasping her head with one hand on either side of her neck.

“Chrissy? Chrissy! Chrissy wake up, please! Chrissy!!” He gripped her harder, trying not to hold her too tightly he would hurt her, but just tightly enough that he was sure she wouldn’t float away.

He didn't even notice the red thumbprint he left behind, too distracted by the fact that she was waking up then, gasping for air, and that she seemed relatively okay.

They collapsed into a heap on the floor, Eddie kneeling awkwardly and pulling Chrissy to lay on his lap, her head cradled in his elbow. That was when he noticed it: a bright red thumb print, just barely visible in the dark trailer, fading into existence on the tender skin below her right ear. He thought it was a smudge of blood at first, checking his fingers to make sure he wasn't bleeding, but found no blood.

"Eddie?" she asked, her voice small and weak.

He snapped back to attention, filing that under things to worry about later. "Yeah, I'm here, princess. You okay?" She was still so frightened she barely even registered the pet name.

She reached up, inhaling, breaths beginning to slow to a steadier pace, and gently rested her hand on the side of his face. She kept her hand there for a moment, and then went to pull away, mouth opening to thank him, before her eyes widened and she gasped again. Eddie's eyes went wide too, filled with sudden panic, but as she sat up and moved closer to inspect his face, her hands resting gently on his cheeks, he realized it was not fear, but wonder, in her eyes.

"Eddie," she breathed, barely a whisper. "Eddie its blue…" she continued, eyebrows pulling together in thought. without a word, she jumped up out of Eddie's lap and began rifling through her backpack, as if she hadn't just been in a fucking demon trance or something.

"Chrissy, be careful!"

"Just gimme a minute!"

Eddie looked on as she continued to dig through her bag, and his concern slowly faded into confusion. "Whaaat are you doing?"

"HA!" she exclaimed, almost cutting off his question. She shuffled back over on her knees, holding something small and thin and flat. A pack of gum? Eddie wondered.

She made her way to him, holding out a small plastic eyeshadow palette, the kind you get from the drug mart or the department store. As she opened it up and looked at him, he got the feeling he was missing something, as if she expected it to make any sense to him.

"Ammm I supposed to be…getting this? I-I don't understand, Chrissy, what-"

Eddie cut himself off as she pursed her lips and wordlessly pointed to the third eyeshadow on the top row, worn down enough that you could see the tin in the middle. "Ice Blue" the container said. He recognized it then as the eyeshadow she had worn every day of senior year. This was also when he caught view of himself in the compact mirror.

He grabbed the mirror from her to get a closer look. There, on his left temple, in between his eyebrow and his hairline, was a fingerprint. Ice Blue, he realized. He caught her eyes over the compact, and finally his eyes matched hers: wide with wonder, full of questions, and underneath it all, a gentle fondness blossoming as they both processed what it all meant.

All of that stopped, however, when he remembered who he was, and who she is, and what this meant. What had been budding excitement melted into dread, deep in his chest. “Chrissy, I’m….I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-“

She shook her head at him. “What the hell are you sorry for?” She scolded him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and a bit of anger. Her eyes softened when she saw the deer-in-headlights look he was giving her, and she took his wrist gently in her hand. “Eddie….don’t you know what this means?” and there was that look again, full of fondness and wonder.

It was his turn to feel confused, “of course I do, that’s why I’m so sorry that it’s-” “-A freak like you?”

That stunned him into silence. Her words, the same ones that the children of Hawkin’s most upstanding citizens spat in the cafeteria when they wanted to make him feel unwanted and unwelcome, were spoken gently, tinged with something like understanding. She bit her lip and held a small smile in the corner of her mouth as she looked down at his wrist where she still held him, and began to slide her hand into his.

It was minutes before either of them spoke. “Eddie.” She said, then waited, not wanting to continue until she had confirmation that he was truly listening.

He brought his eyes up to hers and found they echoed the fear he felt, but they also held the same excitement and fondness, and that sense of wonder that he couldn’t seem to shake even in all his anxiety. He nodded once, encouraging her to continue.

She downcast her eyes, like what came next was difficult to say. “We still have a choice… if this isn’t… if it’s not what you want.” The last words were whispered. “I won’t push it.” She met his eyes at that as she tilted her head, unintentionally exposing the skin underneath her ear.

It was then that Eddie reached out finally to touch the print under her earlobe. Her words echoed in his mind, if it’s not what you want. It was his turn to look on in childlike wonder as he inspected the mark he left, his turn to feel himself brimming with excitement as he let himself consider the fact that Chrissy goddamn Cunningham was actually his soul mate.

This was one of those rare occasions where Eddie actually thought through what he wanted to say before just blurting it all out. “I didn’t say that.” He paused, carefully considering what to say next. “I just don’t want to make trouble for you. We aren’t exactly… y’know.” He gulped as she stared at him, averting his eyes before continuing, realizing she had no intentions of letting him get away without explaining it. “I’m not exactly Hawkin’s finest, Chrissy. I don’t want to make this hard for you, because believe me, people are going to give you shit, and I mean a lot of shit, for this.”

He looked over then, expecting to see her thinking hard, maybe turned away from him as she considered her options. What he didn’t expect to see was Chrissy staring right at him, smiling and staring on with that same old look of fondness mixed with excitement mixed with wonder.

“Eddie, don’t you get it? None of that bullshit matters now. Not after this, not anymore.” She chewed her lip and reached up a hand to ghost over the fingerprint, matching her hand to the spot she caressed him earlier. She took Eddie’s wrist in her other hand and guided it up to the spot where he had gripped her neck before. “It doesn’t matter. It’s all just bullshit.”

They stared for a long moment before Eddie responded. “Yeah?” He asked, smiling, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” She smiled and took her bottom lip between her teeth, before taking in a breath, as if readying herself for something.

And then, for the first time in a long time, Chrissy Cunningham did something for herself. She closed her eyes, and leaned in, and kissed her newfound soulmate.

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ninjago-dragon-reviews · 1 year

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"Fire Dragon (Flame)" from Fire Temple

Number: 2507

Year Released: 2011

SPECS

Head: Rubber Head mold w/ Ball shooter

Body: Saddle on neck

Tail: 1x1 rigid clip tail

Wings: Foldable blade pieces

Feet: One piece bionicle claw

Advancement?: YES

If yes: A neck (although it is not poseable), Rigid hinge tail, Rigid technic joints on wings

REVIEW

Poseability: 6/10

This dragon is an upgrade to the Ice Dragons structure from 2011. Although rigid, the neck adds space for the head to move more. It would have been nice to have the neck move as well, but it functions well enough for including it when most others of this generation did not. The wings are the same build seen throughout the original elemental dragons, but the larger wingspan allows, once again, for space to move and position, with the added bonus of being connected by rigid technic joints, which provide good movement to an otherwise flimsy and lackluster design of that era. The back legs still possess no knees, but they are spaced out in a way that allows the wings to provide structure and unique positions. The downsides of the feet are noticeable as there are still no ankles, leaving the feet looking awkward at times. The tail has a strange linier rigid hinge structure; It is not the worst for function, but it is but a downgrade from ball joints known and overused today.

Durability: 5/10

Simple blocks provide a decent durability to the body, but the rest of the dragon is lacking in this category. Wing details come off per usual and the chains on the head and neck either block movement or snap off due to the stress of movement. Blocky rudimentary body design is hardy during normal use, but if dropped, full portions of the body can come apart due to the lack of intricate structure within the build. Messing with the legs can also slip the Bionicle feet out from their sockets easily. Other than the cones and flag, however, there are very little details that will fall off and get lost.

Playability: 8/10

Lots of personality and play for this dragon. Eye catching colours with a printed head brimming with expression make it a good action figure for roleplays and scenes. The wyvern design provides a nice array of body language and It holds up well enough with basic handling with a decent amount of fun poses. The massive wingspan is a slight let down as the body is so compacted in the front of the build there is no room for a hand to grab and fly it around, rendering it mostly a grounded beast, but still a fun one at that. When you do get it in the hair holding the back of the build it does look very cool flying around. The ball shooter mouth will always be a plus in this category.

Displayability: 5/10

A classic looking build that falls short as many of the earlier dragons tend to do. It is far too rigid and simple (too action figure) for a shelf long term. It has a good size and can squeeze into tight spaces well, which is nice to see with a wingspan this large. It can work on a shelf, but the inconsistent colour pallet (constantly switching colors without finesse) and blocky design lend it more a play toy than a masterpiece.

Look/Design: 5/10

The colours are strange together. It appears to use two separate shades of yellow (one being more mandarin orange and the other being more saturated) and they clash greatly when stared at too long. The grey joints are blended well into the scheme, but the transition between the colours is jarring and unnatural. Overall the dragon is unnatural in design, as the unmovable neck bends down at a strange angle and the wings are blank with many open unused studs. The body has good molding that blends nicely into the tail and the feet are a grand improvement from prior dragons. A classic Wyvern look that's lacking in many areas.

OVERALL SCORE

6/10

#ninjago #lego #lego ninjago #ninjago kai #ninjago dragons #ninjago season 1 #ns1 #ninjago pilot #ninjago dragon reviews #dragon reviews #lego ninjago dragon review #ninjago dragons rising #ramble #ninjago review #lego review #review blog

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dearevanhansenofficial · 2 years

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4TH ANNUAL DEAR EVAN HANSEN COLLEGE ESSAY WRITING CHALLENGE 2022

In partnership with Gotham Writers and the Broadway Education Alliance, Dear Evan Hansen invited students across North America to write a college-application style essay that describes an experience with or ideas about reinvention at any stage of their life.

READ FINALIST SHAADI’S FULL ESSAY:

It’s late May, and on my walk back home, I stumble across what would soon be the carcass of a dying cicada.

Its abdomen had been picked out by a bird, and it was squirming on the pavement below me, unable to pick itself up among the countless bodies of its predecessors. If I was on duty and this was a human mass casualty incident, I would assign this cicada a black tag - not worth saving. Not dead yet, but it won’t be long.

If EMT class taught me anything, it is that humans are incredibly resilient beings. It takes a lot for us to reach black-tag status.

Six months prior, I glanced down at the familiar lush grasses of the Capitol’s National Mall. It appeared a cloudless and serene afternoon from the mercy of a camera, but around me was the shrill yelling and sirens of a megaphone. In an instant, I saw my close friend lying on those same lush grasses, shaking and unable to pick herself up.

It was DC’s right-wing March on Washington, and as a counter-protester, she had just been maced at point-blank range by the police. Surrounded by a red ocean of the alt-right clad in the flags of a country that had failed her, all I recall was yelling her name before I knelt over her crumpled form. Of course, my lighter, Middle-Eastern skin had been spared the poisonous flames that now rendered her skin red. Unequipped with any medical knowledge to help her, I carried her across the vast Mall, out of breath as I heard alt-right protesters cheer the police on.

Most vividly, I remember a rock forming in my throat, compacted from rage and alarm but conveniently forcing me to stay quiet, keeping my friend’s panic at bay. She didn’t have to know what she looked like. The following week, I signed up to become an Emergency Medical Technician and learned that the term for what I did is prevarication - hiding the truth and keeping a poker face in order to prevent someone from finding out the magnitude of what happened to them. Over the course of my 3,000-page textbook, I pledged to protect my friend, learning the skills that could have alleviated her pain on the spot.

Throughout this pledge and without realizing it, I became hooked on the world of Emergency Medical Services (EMS). My local fire station quickly became a second home, and I frequently rode on the ambulance for hours on end, overnight, and on holidays. I bonded with others who shared the love of serving.

As I began familiarizing myself with the culture of my station, I also shared my own Iranian culture with my co-workers - many of whom were in the military or police force - unaware of life in the Middle East beyond limitless deserts and the outdated notion that I’d “make an old bride” in my homeland. Bringing Iranian ice cream on promotion days and sharing stories about my culture soon became an integral part of my identity at the station. Opening colleagues’ eyes to the beauty of my culture only proved to me how much more needs to be done in even a liberal city like DC, and how much more action needs to be taken before my existence - as a Queer Iranian female - in EMS isn’t seen as an anomaly.

Now, I find myself preparing for yet another protest. But this time I am equipped with six months of grueling medical knowledge and enough “fun facts” about chemical weapons to last me a lifetime. I have reinvented myself into someone with the power to voice my concerns over US policy, but also to assist fellow protesters. I am not a hopeless cicada, and will not be brushed aside and picked apart. I am a human being who is passionate, buoyant, and above all - alive.

Shaadi "Iris" Ghorbani Bethesda-Chevy Chase High School Chevy Chase, MD

#youwillbefoundessaycontest2022 #dear evan hansen

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hellsitesonlybookclub · 1 year

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20k Leagues under the sea, Jules Verne

part 2, chapter 16-17

CHAPTER XVI WANT OF AIR

Thus around the Nautilus, above and below, was an impenetrable wall of ice. We were prisoners to the iceberg. I watched the Captain. His countenance had resumed its habitual imperturbability.

“Gentlemen,” he said calmly, “there are two ways of dying in the circumstances in which we are placed.” (This puzzling person had the air of a mathematical professor lecturing to his pupils.) “The first is to be crushed; the second is to die of suffocation. I do not speak of the possibility of dying of hunger, for the supply of provisions in the Nautilus will certainly last longer than we shall. Let us, then, calculate our chances.”

“As to suffocation, Captain,” I replied, “that is not to be feared, because our reservoirs are full.”

“Just so; but they will only yield two days’ supply of air. Now, for thirty-six hours we have been hidden under the water, and already the heavy atmosphere of the Nautilus requires renewal. In forty-eight hours our reserve will be exhausted.”

“Well, Captain, can we be delivered before forty-eight hours?”

“We will attempt it, at least, by piercing the wall that surrounds us.”

“On which side?”

“Sound will tell us. I am going to run the Nautilus aground on the lower bank, and my men will attack the iceberg on the side that is least thick.”

Captain Nemo went out. Soon I discovered by a hissing noise that the water was entering the reservoirs. The Nautilus sank slowly, and rested on the ice at a depth of 350 yards, the depth at which the lower bank was immersed.

“My friends,” I said, “our situation is serious, but I rely on your courage and energy.”

“Sir,” replied the Canadian, “I am ready to do anything for the general safety.”

“Good! Ned,” and I held out my hand to the Canadian.

“I will add,” he continued, “that, being as handy with the pickaxe as with the harpoon, if I can be useful to the Captain, he can command my services.”

“He will not refuse your help. Come, Ned!”

I led him to the room where the crew of the Nautilus were putting on their cork-jackets. I told the Captain of Ned’s proposal, which he accepted. The Canadian put on his sea-costume, and was ready as soon as his companions. When Ned was dressed, I re-entered the drawing-room, where the panes of glass were open, and, posted near Conseil, I examined the ambient beds that supported the Nautilus. Some instants after, we saw a dozen of the crew set foot on the bank of ice, and among them Ned Land, easily known by his stature. Captain Nemo was with them. Before proceeding to dig the walls, he took the soundings, to be sure of working in the right direction. Long sounding lines were sunk in the side walls, but after fifteen yards they were again stopped by the thick wall. It was useless to attack it on the ceiling-like surface, since the iceberg itself measured more than 400 yards in height. Captain Nemo then sounded the lower surface. There ten yards of wall separated us from the water, so great was the thickness of the ice-field. It was necessary, therefore, to cut from it a piece equal in extent to the waterline of the Nautilus. There were about 6,000 cubic yards to detach, so as to dig a hole by which we could descend to the ice-field. The work had begun immediately and carried on with indefatigable energy. Instead of digging round the Nautilus which would have involved greater difficulty, Captain Nemo had an immense trench made at eight yards from the port-quarter. Then the men set to work simultaneously with their screws on several points of its circumference. Presently the pickaxe attacked this compact matter vigorously, and large blocks were detached from the mass. By a curious effect of specific gravity, these blocks, lighter than water, fled, so to speak, to the vault of the tunnel, that increased in thickness at the top in proportion as it diminished at the base. But that mattered little, so long as the lower part grew thinner. After two hours’ hard work, Ned Land came in exhausted. He and his comrades were replaced by new workers, whom Conseil and I joined. The second lieutenant of the Nautilus superintended us. The water seemed singularly cold, but I soon got warm handling the pickaxe. My movements were free enough, although they were made under a pressure of thirty atmospheres. When I re-entered, after working two hours, to take some food and rest, I found a perceptible difference between the pure fluid with which the Rouquayrol engine supplied me and the atmosphere of the Nautilus, already charged with carbonic acid. The air had not been renewed for forty-eight hours, and its vivifying qualities were considerably enfeebled. However, after a lapse of twelve hours, we had only raised a block of ice one yard thick, on the marked surface, which was about 600 cubic yards! Reckoning that it took twelve hours to accomplish this much it would take five nights and four days to bring this enterprise to a satisfactory conclusion. Five nights and four days! And we have only air enough for two days in the reservoirs! “Without taking into account,” said Ned, “that, even if we get out of this infernal prison, we shall also be imprisoned under the iceberg, shut out from all possible communication with the atmosphere.” True enough! Who could then foresee the minimum of time necessary for our deliverance? We might be suffocated before the Nautilus could regain the surface of the waves? Was it destined to perish in this ice-tomb, with all those it enclosed? The situation was terrible. But everyone had looked the danger in the face, and each was determined to do his duty to the last.

As I expected, during the night a new block a yard square was carried away, and still further sank the immense hollow. But in the morning when, dressed in my cork-jacket, I traversed the slushy mass at a temperature of six or seven degrees below zero, I remarked that the side walls were gradually closing in. The beds of water farthest from the trench, that were not warmed by the men’s work, showed a tendency to solidification. In presence of this new and imminent danger, what would become of our chances of safety, and how hinder the solidification of this liquid medium, that would burst the partitions of the Nautilus like glass?

I did not tell my companions of this new danger. What was the good of damping the energy they displayed in the painful work of escape? But when I went on board again, I told Captain Nemo of this grave complication.

“I know it,” he said, in that calm tone which could counteract the most terrible apprehensions. “It is one danger more; but I see no way of escaping it; the only chance of safety is to go quicker than solidification. We must be beforehand with it, that is all.”

On this day for several hours I used my pickaxe vigorously. The work kept me up. Besides, to work was to quit the Nautilus, and breathe directly the pure air drawn from the reservoirs, and supplied by our apparatus, and to quit the impoverished and vitiated atmosphere. Towards evening the trench was dug one yard deeper. When I returned on board, I was nearly suffocated by the carbonic acid with which the air was filled—ah! if we had only the chemical means to drive away this deleterious gas. We had plenty of oxygen; all this water contained a considerable quantity, and by dissolving it with our powerful piles, it would restore the vivifying fluid. I had thought well over it; but of what good was that, since the carbonic acid produced by our respiration had invaded every part of the vessel? To absorb it, it was necessary to fill some jars with caustic potash, and to shake them incessantly. Now this substance was wanting on board, and nothing could replace it. On that evening, Captain Nemo ought to open the taps of his reservoirs, and let some pure air into the interior of the Nautilus; without this precaution we could not get rid of the sense of suffocation. The next day, March 26th, I resumed my miner’s work in beginning the fifth yard. The side walls and the lower surface of the iceberg thickened visibly. It was evident that they would meet before the Nautilus was able to disengage itself. Despair seized me for an instant; my pickaxe nearly fell from my hands. What was the good of digging if I must be suffocated, crushed by the water that was turning into stone?—a punishment that the ferocity of the savages even would not have invented! Just then Captain Nemo passed near me. I touched his hand and showed him the walls of our prison. The wall to port had advanced to at least four yards from the hull of the Nautilus. The Captain understood me, and signed me to follow him. We went on board. I took off my cork-jacket and accompanied him into the drawing-room.

“M. Aronnax, we must attempt some desperate means, or we shall be sealed up in this solidified water as in cement.”

“Yes; but what is to be done?”

“Ah! if my Nautilus were strong enough to bear this pressure without being crushed!”

“Well?” I asked, not catching the Captain’s idea.

“Do you not understand,” he replied, “that this congelation of water will help us? Do you not see that by its solidification, it would burst through this field of ice that imprisons us, as, when it freezes, it bursts the hardest stones? Do you not perceive that it would be an agent of safety instead of destruction?”

“Yes, Captain, perhaps. But, whatever resistance to crushing the Nautilus possesses, it could not support this terrible pressure, and would be flattened like an iron plate.”

“I know it, sir. Therefore we must not reckon on the aid of nature, but on our own exertions. We must stop this solidification. Not only will the side walls be pressed together; but there is not ten feet of water before or behind the Nautilus. The congelation gains on us on all sides.”

“How long will the air in the reservoirs last for us to breathe on board?”

The Captain looked in my face. “After to-morrow they will be empty!”

A cold sweat came over me. However, ought I to have been astonished at the answer? On March 22, the Nautilus was in the open polar seas. We were at 26°. For five days we had lived on the reserve on board. And what was left of the respirable air must be kept for the workers. Even now, as I write, my recollection is still so vivid that an involuntary terror seizes me and my lungs seem to be without air. Meanwhile, Captain Nemo reflected silently, and evidently an idea had struck him; but he seemed to reject it. At last, these words escaped his lips:

“Boiling water!” he muttered.

“Boiling water?” I cried.

“Yes, sir. We are enclosed in a space that is relatively confined. Would not jets of boiling water, constantly injected by the pumps, raise the temperature in this part and stay the congelation?”

“Let us try it,” I said resolutely.

“Let us try it, Professor.”

The thermometer then stood at 7° outside. Captain Nemo took me to the galleys, where the vast distillatory machines stood that furnished the drinkable water by evaporation. They filled these with water, and all the electric heat from the piles was thrown through the worms bathed in the liquid. In a few minutes this water reached 100°. It was directed towards the pumps, while fresh water replaced it in proportion. The heat developed by the troughs was such that cold water, drawn up from the sea after only having gone through the machines, came boiling into the body of the pump. The injection was begun, and three hours after the thermometer marked 6° below zero outside. One degree was gained. Two hours later the thermometer only marked 4°.

“We shall succeed,” I said to the Captain, after having anxiously watched the result of the operation.

“I think,” he answered, “that we shall not be crushed. We have no more suffocation to fear.”

During the night the temperature of the water rose to 1° below zero. The injections could not carry it to a higher point. But, as the congelation of the sea-water produces at least 2°, I was at least reassured against the dangers of solidification.

The next day, March 27th, six yards of ice had been cleared, twelve feet only remaining to be cleared away. There was yet forty-eight hours’ work. The air could not be renewed in the interior of the Nautilus. And this day would make it worse. An intolerable weight oppressed me. Towards three o’clock in the evening this feeling rose to a violent degree. Yawns dislocated my jaws. My lungs panted as they inhaled this burning fluid, which became rarefied more and more. A moral torpor took hold of me. I was powerless, almost unconscious. My brave Conseil, though exhibiting the same symptoms and suffering in the same manner, never left me. He took my hand and encouraged me, and I heard him murmur, “Oh! if I could only not breathe, so as to leave more air for my master!”

Tears came into my eyes on hearing him speak thus. If our situation to all was intolerable in the interior, with what haste and gladness would we put on our cork-jackets to work in our turn! Pickaxes sounded on the frozen ice-beds. Our arms ached, the skin was torn off our hands. But what were these fatigues, what did the wounds matter? Vital air came to the lungs! We breathed! we breathed!

All this time no one prolonged his voluntary task beyond the prescribed time. His task accomplished, each one handed in turn to his panting companions the apparatus that supplied him with life. Captain Nemo set the example, and submitted first to this severe discipline. When the time came, he gave up his apparatus to another and returned to the vitiated air on board, calm, unflinching, unmurmuring.

On that day the ordinary work was accomplished with unusual vigour. Only two yards remained to be raised from the surface. Two yards only separated us from the open sea. But the reservoirs were nearly emptied of air. The little that remained ought to be kept for the workers; not a particle for the Nautilus. When I went back on board, I was half suffocated. What a night! I know not how to describe it. The next day my breathing was oppressed. Dizziness accompanied the pain in my head and made me like a drunken man. My companions showed the same symptoms. Some of the crew had rattling in the throat.

On that day, the sixth of our imprisonment, Captain Nemo, finding the pickaxes work too slowly, resolved to crush the ice-bed that still separated us from the liquid sheet. This man’s coolness and energy never forsook him. He subdued his physical pains by moral force.

By his orders the vessel was lightened, that is to say, raised from the ice-bed by a change of specific gravity. When it floated they towed it so as to bring it above the immense trench made on the level of the water-line. Then, filling his reservoirs of water, he descended and shut himself up in the hole.

Just then all the crew came on board, and the double door of communication was shut. The Nautilus then rested on the bed of ice, which was not one yard thick, and which the sounding leads had perforated in a thousand places. The taps of the reservoirs were then opened, and a hundred cubic yards of water was let in, increasing the weight of the Nautilus to 1,800 tons. We waited, we listened, forgetting our sufferings in hope. Our safety depended on this last chance. Notwithstanding the buzzing in my head, I soon heard the humming sound under the hull of the Nautilus. The ice cracked with a singular noise, like tearing paper, and the Nautilus sank.

“We are off!” murmured Conseil in my ear.

I could not answer him. I seized his hand, and pressed it convulsively. All at once, carried away by its frightful overcharge, the Nautilus sank like a bullet under the waters, that is to say, it fell as if it was in a vacuum. Then all the electric force was put on the pumps, that soon began to let the water out of the reservoirs. After some minutes, our fall was stopped. Soon, too, the manometer indicated an ascending movement. The screw, going at full speed, made the iron hull tremble to its very bolts and drew us towards the north. But if this floating under the iceberg is to last another day before we reach the open sea, I shall be dead first.

Half stretched upon a divan in the library, I was suffocating. My face was purple, my lips blue, my faculties suspended. I neither saw nor heard. All notion of time had gone from my mind. My muscles could not contract. I do not know how many hours passed thus, but I was conscious of the agony that was coming over me. I felt as if I was going to die. Suddenly I came to. Some breaths of air penetrated my lungs. Had we risen to the surface of the waves? Were we free of the iceberg? No! Ned and Conseil, my two brave friends, were sacrificing themselves to save me. Some particles of air still remained at the bottom of one apparatus. Instead of using it, they had kept it for me, and, while they were being suffocated, they gave me life, drop by drop. I wanted to push back the thing; they held my hands, and for some moments I breathed freely. I looked at the clock; it was eleven in the morning. It ought to be the 28th of March. The Nautilus went at a frightful pace, forty miles an hour. It literally tore through the water. Where was Captain Nemo? Had he succumbed? Were his companions dead with him? At the moment the manometer indicated that we were not more than twenty feet from the surface. A mere plate of ice separated us from the atmosphere. Could we not break it? Perhaps. In any case the Nautilus was going to attempt it. I felt that it was in an oblique position, lowering the stern, and raising the bows. The introduction of water had been the means of disturbing its equilibrium. Then, impelled by its powerful screw, it attacked the ice-field from beneath like a formidable battering-ram. It broke it by backing and then rushing forward against the field, which gradually gave way; and at last, dashing suddenly against it, shot forwards on the ice-field, that crushed beneath its weight. The panel was opened—one might say torn off—and the pure air came in in abundance to all parts of the Nautilus.

CHAPTER XVII FROM CAPE HORN TO THE AMAZON

How I got on to the platform, I have no idea; perhaps the Canadian had carried me there. But I breathed, I inhaled the vivifying sea-air. My two companions were getting drunk with the fresh particles. The other unhappy men had been so long without food, that they could not with impunity indulge in the simplest aliments that were given them. We, on the contrary, had no end to restrain ourselves; we could draw this air freely into our lungs, and it was the breeze, the breeze alone, that filled us with this keen enjoyment.

“Ah!” said Conseil, “how delightful this oxygen is! Master need not fear to breathe it. There is enough for everybody.”

Ned Land did not speak, but he opened his jaws wide enough to frighten a shark. Our strength soon returned, and, when I looked round me, I saw we were alone on the platform. The foreign seamen in the Nautilus were contented with the air that circulated in the interior; none of them had come to drink in the open air.

The first words I spoke were words of gratitude and thankfulness to my two companions. Ned and Conseil had prolonged my life during the last hours of this long agony. All my gratitude could not repay such devotion.

“My friends,” said I, “we are bound one to the other for ever, and I am under infinite obligations to you.”

“Which I shall take advantage of,” exclaimed the Canadian.

“What do you mean?” said Conseil.

“I mean that I shall take you with me when I leave this infernal Nautilus.”

“Well,” said Conseil, “after all this, are we going right?”

“Yes,” I replied, “for we are going the way of the sun, and here the sun is in the north.”

“No doubt,” said Ned Land; “but it remains to be seen whether he will bring the ship into the Pacific or the Atlantic Ocean, that is, into frequented or deserted seas.”

I could not answer that question, and I feared that Captain Nemo would rather take us to the vast ocean that touches the coasts of Asia and America at the same time. He would thus complete the tour round the submarine world, and return to those waters in which the Nautilus could sail freely. We ought, before long, to settle this important point. The Nautilus went at a rapid pace. The polar circle was soon passed, and the course shaped for Cape Horn. We were off the American point, March 31st, at seven o’clock in the evening. Then all our past sufferings were forgotten. The remembrance of that imprisonment in the ice was effaced from our minds. We only thought of the future. Captain Nemo did not appear again either in the drawing-room or on the platform. The point shown each day on the planisphere, and, marked by the lieutenant, showed me the exact direction of the Nautilus. Now, on that evening, it was evident, to, my great satisfaction, that we were going back to the North by the Atlantic. The next day, April 1st, when the Nautilus ascended to the surface some minutes before noon, we sighted land to the west. It was Terra del Fuego, which the first navigators named thus from seeing the quantity of smoke that rose from the natives’ huts. The coast seemed low to me, but in the distance rose high mountains. I even thought I had a glimpse of Mount Sarmiento, that rises 2,070 yards above the level of the sea, with a very pointed summit, which, according as it is misty or clear, is a sign of fine or of wet weather. At this moment the peak was clearly defined against the sky. The Nautilus, diving again under the water, approached the coast, which was only some few miles off. From the glass windows in the drawing-room, I saw long seaweeds and gigantic fuci and varech, of which the open polar sea contains so many specimens, with their sharp polished filaments; they measured about 300 yards in length—real cables, thicker than one’s thumb; and, having great tenacity, they are often used as ropes for vessels. Another weed known as velp, with leaves four feet long, buried in the coral concretions, hung at the bottom. It served as nest and food for myriads of crustacea and molluscs, crabs, and cuttlefish. There seals and otters had splendid repasts, eating the flesh of fish with sea-vegetables, according to the English fashion. Over this fertile and luxuriant ground the Nautilus passed with great rapidity. Towards evening it approached the Falkland group, the rough summits of which I recognised the following day. The depth of the sea was moderate. On the shores our nets brought in beautiful specimens of sea weed, and particularly a certain fucus, the roots of which were filled with the best mussels in the world. Geese and ducks fell by dozens on the platform, and soon took their places in the pantry on board.

When the last heights of the Falklands had disappeared from the horizon, the Nautilus sank to between twenty and twenty-five yards, and followed the American coast. Captain Nemo did not show himself. Until the 3rd of April we did not quit the shores of Patagonia, sometimes under the ocean, sometimes at the surface. The Nautilus passed beyond the large estuary formed by the Uraguay. Its direction was northwards, and followed the long windings of the coast of South America. We had then made 1,600 miles since our embarkation in the seas of Japan. About eleven o’clock in the morning the Tropic of Capricorn was crossed on the thirty-seventh meridian, and we passed Cape Frio standing out to sea. Captain Nemo, to Ned Land’s great displeasure, did not like the neighbourhood of the inhabited coasts of Brazil, for we went at a giddy speed. Not a fish, not a bird of the swiftest kind could follow us, and the natural curiosities of these seas escaped all observation.

This speed was kept up for several days, and in the evening of the 9th of April we sighted the most westerly point of South America that forms Cape San Roque. But then the Nautilus swerved again, and sought the lowest depth of a submarine valley which is between this Cape and Sierra Leone on the African coast. This valley bifurcates to the parallel of the Antilles, and terminates at the mouth by the enormous depression of 9,000 yards. In this place, the geological basin of the ocean forms, as far as the Lesser Antilles, a cliff to three and a half miles perpendicular in height, and, at the parallel of the Cape Verde Islands, an other wall not less considerable, that encloses thus all the sunk continent of the Atlantic. The bottom of this immense valley is dotted with some mountains, that give to these submarine places a picturesque aspect. I speak, moreover, from the manuscript charts that were in the library of the Nautilus—charts evidently due to Captain Nemo’s hand, and made after his personal observations. For two days the desert and deep waters were visited by means of the inclined planes. The Nautilus was furnished with long diagonal broadsides which carried it to all elevations. But on the 11th of April it rose suddenly, and land appeared at the mouth of the Amazon River, a vast estuary, the embouchure of which is so considerable that it freshens the sea-water for the distance of several leagues.

The equator was crossed. Twenty miles to the west were the Guianas, a French territory, on which we could have found an easy refuge; but a stiff breeze was blowing, and the furious waves would not have allowed a single boat to face them. Ned Land understood that, no doubt, for he spoke not a word about it. For my part, I made no allusion to his schemes of flight, for I would not urge him to make an attempt that must inevitably fail. I made the time pass pleasantly by interesting studies. During the days of April 11th and 12th, the Nautilus did not leave the surface of the sea, and the net brought in a marvellous haul of Zoophytes, fish and reptiles. Some zoophytes had been fished up by the chain of the nets; they were for the most part beautiful phyctallines, belonging to the actinidian family, and among other species the phyctalis protexta, peculiar to that part of the ocean, with a little cylindrical trunk, ornamented With vertical lines, speckled with red dots, crowning a marvellous blossoming of tentacles. As to the molluscs, they consisted of some I had already observed—turritellas, olive porphyras, with regular lines intercrossed, with red spots standing out plainly against the flesh; odd pteroceras, like petrified scorpions; translucid hyaleas, argonauts, cuttle-fish (excellent eating), and certain species of calmars that naturalists of antiquity have classed amongst the flying-fish, and that serve principally for bait for cod-fishing. I had now an opportunity of studying several species of fish on these shores. Amongst the cartilaginous ones, petromyzons-pricka, a sort of eel, fifteen inches long, with a greenish head, violet fins, grey-blue back, brown belly, silvered and sown with bright spots, the pupil of the eye encircled with gold—a curious animal, that the current of the Amazon had drawn to the sea, for they inhabit fresh waters—tuberculated streaks, with pointed snouts, and a long loose tail, armed with a long jagged sting; little sharks, a yard long, grey and whitish skin, and several rows of teeth, bent back, that are generally known by the name of pantouffles; vespertilios, a kind of red isosceles triangle, half a yard long, to which pectorals are attached by fleshy prolongations that make them look like bats, but that their horny appendage, situated near the nostrils, has given them the name of sea-unicorns; lastly, some species of balistae, the curassavian, whose spots were of a brilliant gold colour, and the capriscus of clear violet, and with varying shades like a pigeon’s throat.

I end here this catalogue, which is somewhat dry perhaps, but very exact, with a series of bony fish that I observed in passing belonging to the apteronotes, and whose snout is white as snow, the body of a beautiful black, marked with a very long loose fleshy strip; odontognathes, armed with spikes; sardines nine inches long, glittering with a bright silver light; a species of mackerel provided with two anal fins; centronotes of a blackish tint, that are fished for with torches, long fish, two yards in length, with fat flesh, white and firm, which, when they arc fresh, taste like eel, and when dry, like smoked salmon; labres, half red, covered with scales only at the bottom of the dorsal and anal fins; chrysoptera, on which gold and silver blend their brightness with that of the ruby and topaz; golden-tailed spares, the flesh of which is extremely delicate, and whose phosphorescent properties betray them in the midst of the waters; orange-coloured spares with long tongues; maigres, with gold caudal fins, dark thorn-tails, anableps of Surinam, etc.

Notwithstanding this “et cetera,” I must not omit to mention fish that Conseil will long remember, and with good reason. One of our nets had hauled up a sort of very flat ray fish, which, with the tail cut off, formed a perfect disc, and weighed twenty ounces. It was white underneath, red above, with large round spots of dark blue encircled with black, very glossy skin, terminating in a bilobed fin. Laid out on the platform, it struggled, tried to turn itself by convulsive movements, and made so many efforts, that one last turn had nearly sent it into the sea. But Conseil, not wishing to let the fish go, rushed to it, and, before I could prevent him, had seized it with both hands. In a moment he was overthrown, his legs in the air, and half his body paralysed, crying—

“Oh! master, master! help me!”

It was the first time the poor boy had spoken to me so familiarly. The Canadian and I took him up, and rubbed his contracted arms till he became sensible. The unfortunate Conseil had attacked a cramp-fish of the most dangerous kind, the cumana. This odd animal, in a medium conductor like water, strikes fish at several yards’ distance, so great is the power of its electric organ, the two principal surfaces of which do not measure less than twenty-seven square feet. The next day, April 12th, the Nautilus approached the Dutch coast, near the mouth of the Maroni. There several groups of sea-cows herded together; they were manatees, that, like the dugong and the stellera, belong to the skenian order. These beautiful animals, peaceable and inoffensive, from eighteen to twenty-one feet in length, weigh at least sixteen hundredweight. I told Ned Land and Conseil that provident nature had assigned an important role to these mammalia. Indeed, they, like the seals, are designed to graze on the submarine prairies, and thus destroy the accumulation of weed that obstructs the tropical rivers.

“And do you know,” I added, “what has been the result since men have almost entirely annihilated this useful race? That the putrefied weeds have poisoned the air, and the poisoned air causes the yellow fever, that desolates these beautiful countries. Enormous vegetations are multiplied under the torrid seas, and the evil is irresistibly developed from the mouth of the Rio de la Plata to Florida. If we are to believe Toussenel, this plague is nothing to what it would be if the seas were cleaned of whales and seals. Then, infested with poulps, medusæ, and cuttle-fish, they would become immense centres of infection, since their waves would not possess ‘these vast stomachs that God had charged to infest the surface of the seas.’”

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