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@itssuchalonglongwaytofall
Update: Hiatus
Now that the end of the semester/my degree is in sight (less than 4 weeks until I graduate!), I have to focus all of my time and effort on completing final projects. While I still may pop in and check on things, I am trying to keep my time on here to a bare minimum, so that I can finish everything I need to.
I love you guys. If anyone needs me or misses me, please contact me on Skype. Obviously, let me know who you are before adding. <3
subtleelevation:
Emily Browning
dutchmanscursedcaptain
“You know, after a century at sea I would’ve expected conversation to interest me a little more.” A man leans against the railing of aforementioned balcony staring blankly at the wide expanse of garden below, It’s clear that he doesn’t mean for anyone to hear that statement, that it’s more of a comment to himself to be reflected on in times of great boredom, like now.
He turns as he hears her light footsteps echo behind him, eyes flicking towards the heavens as he attempts to find some pleasant topic to engage in meaningless, mind-numbing conversation with. Finding none he simply decides upon the old fallback, the nice safe topic of the weather.
“I wish it would rain. Everything seems so much clearer when it rains, it’s like the world takes a breath at those moments, stops being stifled by the heat of Summer and just…..lives.” He quirks a brow at this newcomer, taking in her slightly frazzled appearance and nodding to himself, she looked the same way he felt.
“Thoughts?” He offers, smiling wryly.
@itssuchalonglongwaytofall
Alice leans against the railing for a brief moment, but starts at the sound of a male voice. Flushing darkly, she opens her mouth to give him an apology, but quickly stops herself when she notes that he doesn’t seem too offended thus far by her unintentional breach of his peace and quiet.
Patiently, she listens to his words, and slowly the corners of her lips turn upwards into a gentle smile. It’s particularly refreshing that such a normally dull topic about weather seems to be more philosophical in nature. This is much more pleasant than the ridiculously polite but bland conversation she is accustomed to suffer through. It makes her yearn for nonsense of any sort to break the monotony, since she had long since tired of the conversation in the ballroom.
“Yet if it rained, then the lady of the house would see that her gardeners really planted white roses instead of red, because all of the paint would wash right off. Then we might be treated to the spectacle of her losing her temper.”
Oh, she knows she shouldn’t spout such nonsense to a complete stranger, nor should she speak of their hostess in such an impolite manner, but she really can’t help herself. Besides, the thought is so terribly amusing, and it’s a well known fact that the hostess herself doesn’t have the most even of tempers.
She lays her gloved hands on the railing of the balcony, staring out into the night again, as she muses over his words. As her thoughts of nonsense slip away, her expression softens, and she expands on his own thoughts quietly.
“It is like the whole world is holding it’s breath until the first drops of rain hit the soil, as if it’s been waiting an entire lifetime for that one moment. Contrariwise, I find snow has the opposite effect. It wraps the trees and fields in a snug white quilt with a gentle kiss, and turns all sound into a soft whisper so that the land can sleep until the summer comes again.”
Her gaze lowers for a moment before her hazel eyes return to his face. “I’m rather fond of both, to be perfectly honest. You’re certainly not alone in wishing it would rain. Rain would be a nice respite at the moment.”
theteenagehead : No Trespassing
@itssuchalonglongwaytofall saw the banquet spread laid out before us
The sun was high and the sky was clear, and Macheath walked alone with the ghost of a smile haunting his face. A cheery if chilling tune whistled forth from his lips. Aye, but he was soft for the songs they sang about him as they hung about, ever uncertain if he was a monster the likes of which no nightmare had seen before or a savior as great and grand as Robin Hood himself. Macky liked it in the uncertainty, enjoyed rounding the corner and finding people who knew his face frozen to the spot before leaving it at a run–sometimes to him, sometimes from. No matter which way they ran Macky would catch them up in the end; it seemed to him he always did.
‘Round another corner he turned, walking by not in the shadows of the alleyway but in the broad day-lit street, bold as you please; his head up, his shoulders back, his eyes to the soft blue sky and the enigmatic tune on his lips, one might almost mistake him for someone far kinder and less notorious than Mac the Knife. He might have been anyone in that moment.
Certainly he reacted as anyone in that moment when, still quiet distracted, he collided with somebody on the streets–a young somebody, a pretty somebody, a somebody who had never before crossed paths with Mac or fallen prey to his feral smile.
He offered her some softer impression of that same toothy expression as he took her arm to steady her. “Easy goes it, dear. My humblest apologies.”
On any other day, Alice wouldn’t be found anywhere on the streets of London because Oxford was her true home, but today was special. The Alhambra Theatre was premiering Strauss’ Die Fledermaus– which had very recently been translated into English for the first time, and a friend of the family had specifically requested her presence at the premiere. Even if Alice herself had showed a certain reluctance, her mother insisted that she ought to go, for she encouraged every opportunity that Alice had to mingle with polite society and prove that she’s a marvelous little socialite(even if Alice abhorred every moment of it).
However, as fate would have it, her train arrived in London far earlier than anticipated, and so therefore, she had a large period of time during which she could explore and satisfy each one of her many whims before she was expected to be the proper socialite. The most natural place to start, Alice believes, is the ever lovely Hyde Park, which would be undoubtably bustling with all the well bred members of society at this hour. There, I will undoubtably find a lovely quiet space to finish a few chapters of my book, and after doing some people-watching, I shall–
Her thoughts are interrupted as she collides with a gentleman rounding the corner, and loses her balance for a scant second, but before she can right herself she finds her arm in the gentleman’s firm grip.
With flushed cheeks, Alice gently pulls her arm from the man’s grasp, but gives him a polite smile, not wanting to disrespect him in any manner. Come now, Alice. Certainly, he’s only making certain that you’re all right, and not attempting to take any liberties with you. After all, you are a young, unchaperoned woman, and a man ought to know better...
At least, the optimist in her hopes that he knows how to properly conduct himself, but even so, she still eyes the stranger with slight apprehension. After all, it would take a very foolish woman to trust a perfect stranger, and despite her wide eyed stare, Alice is no fool. However, the least she can do is extend kindness in response to his own apparent concern.
She ducks her head in modesty for a moment, before raising her eyes to meet the stranger’s own dark eyes.
“Thank you ever so much, kind Sir. Though, the fault is partially mine as well. As you can see, you caught me in the middle of a reverie. Are you all right?”
After posing her question, she anxiously glances him over, making certain that she has not done too much damage.
every book i’ve read in 2016 ↳ Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
The adventures first, explanations take such a dreadful time.
Looking back to all that has occurred to me since that eventful day, I am scarcely able to believe in the reality of my adventures.
Jules Verne, Journey to the Center of the Earth (via openingfiction)
@dutchmanscursedcaptain
Alice tries not to sigh too terribly loud as she stares blankly at the wall behind the person speaking– at the very least attempting to look vaguely interested in whatever banal topic of conversation she is expected to be paying attention to at the moment.
How on earth does one pay attention to a conversation without any substance?
Then again, according to what proper etiquette dictates, one must never bring up any topics which are too engaging. In particular, she’s always found that rule of polite society to be a particularly baffling one because how does one exercise their mind and the art of conversation with such dull topics? Therefore, even if she tells herself she ought to pay attention to such things, she very seldom does.
However, the unfortunate side effect of not paying attention is that she now has a reputation of being a bit distractible and odd.
On that note, this entire conversation would be much more interesting if they all had lobsters on their heads.
“What do you think, Miss Liddell?”
Alice is pulled from her own musings to stare at the person addressing her, and notices that the entire group is watching her intently, awaiting her response. Poor Alice feels the blood rising to her cheeks and she wishes she could sink into the earth to hide from their stares.
“I think it’s a very good idea, and I couldn’t be more interested, but I’m sorry because I do believe I see my brother gesturing for me to join him on the balcony. Will you please excuse me.”
She excuses herself from the conversation and slips away to the balcony, letting out a soft sigh and closing her eyes. Of course, her brother hadn’t been out on the balcony, but she needed space and quiet to collect her thoughts for a moment.
Daisy chain
Etiquette; or, A Guide to the Usages of Society, With a Glance at Bad Habits, 1843
At 6am on the 20th of June, 1837, eighteen-year-old Victoria was woken to the news she was now Queen of the United Kingdom.
This marked the beginning of the long Victorian era, which concluded with her death in 1901.
@itssuchalonglongwaytofall | starter
The coven was a safe place, or so she’d been told–and Vinnie didn’t believe her mother would intentionally take her somewhere they weren’t protected. But it was the unintentionally part that bothered her. So many things had happened because of small mistakes, bad choices in judgment, and the ever present threat that sooner or later, a very bad thing was going to happen.
Vinnie could see it in her mother’s face. Though she kept her visions to herself, Vinnie was quick to pick up on Mara’s not so subtle cues. Whatever the seer had seen was bad, and she wouldn’t share it with Vinnie. To protect her.
A part of the young woman wanted to know. The other part was content to live in ignorance. But if it meant knowing when shit was about to go down, she’d rather know.
Somewhere out there, her father and older sister waited. Somewhere out there, they watched. And sooner or later, they would make a move. Would they hurt her and her mother? If they had fallen so deep into black magic, they wouldn’t care if they even killed them.
This coven, here in England, consisted of some of the strongest witches in the world. It was secure, but Vinnie couldn’t help feeling like there was a large target painted on the side of the building. A large gathering of powerful men and women, with the strongest magicks on earth? Yeah, that would bring her power-hungry father and sister right to their door.
It was a heavy thought that plagued her and Vinnie needed to shift her mind away from it, even for a few minutes. And that was why she had sneaked out of the old, three story building and headed out of the gate and down the street. It didn’t really matter where she went, as long as it helped.
With a small grunt, Alice violently tears through another root which tries to drag her back down into the darkness of the rabbit hole. However before she can pull herself free from the gloom, several vines latch onto her, holding her back from the freedom she so desperately craves. So, with one more determined tug, she wrenches herself free from the vines, and pulls herself out of the hole by digging her fingers deeply into the soil for leverage.
After crawling far away from the rabbit hole, she rolls onto her back, closing her eyes and takes slow, ragged breaths as if she hasn’t taken a full breath in years. For a few quiet moments, she just lies there, keeping her eyes closed, and hopes that she won’t open her eyes and just see a blank gray sky overhead.
Softly, she speaks aloud, a silent prayer, “Please don’t let this be some kind of cruel dream. Oh God, please let me be free from that place if you have any mercy.”
After a small anxious pause, she slowly opens her eyes and stares at the sky–and finds herself utterly transfixed by the sight before her. Has there always been this many stars? She can’t rightly remember, but at this moment, she’s never seen anything more beautiful in her entire life. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and the whole world seems to disappear for a few moments except for those pinpoints of light shining through the dark trees even as her vision starts to blur from the tears. How had she been so blind to the beauty of the world all around her?
It takes her a few moments to realize just how quiet it is: No screaming flowers, no incessant chattering of leaves, and no monsters– Just silence, the sound of her own soft breathing and the wind rustling the leaves of the restless trees overhead. How had she taken so much for granted?
Gingerly, she gets up, wincing as she puts pressure on the cuts on her hands. She takes a few limping steps into the woods, frowning as she feels a trickle of blood run down her leg. Glancing down, she sees deep and angry looking gashes on her scarred and muddy legs.
I need help.
After this thought occurs to her, she hears strange noises coming from far away, and from what she can gather, the source is the roar of some sort of machinery. She staggers out of the forest and into the light, but has to throw up a hand to shield her eyes at the sudden brightness.
When her eyes adjust to the light, she is rather bewildered at the appearance of the street, with its bright electric lighting everywhere, and large carriages that seem to be powered by a motor of some sort. How very curious.
She is about to take a closer look at one of these strange carriages, but then she spots a young woman walking towards her. After taking a few unsteady steps towards her, Alice pauses, unsure if she really should ask for help.
I really shouldn’t put the extra burden on this young woman, and how on earth will I ever explain how I look the way that I do, in this tattered chemise, and being completely covered in blood, mud, and heaven knows what else?
Oh goodness. What if the beings from Wonderland have caught up to me, and take this poor girl too?
She turns her head to look behind her to make certain that nothing is following her, but she moves far too quickly, and as a result, her whole body sways. She has to grab the nearest light post to keep herself upright, and stares at the other young woman for a moment, hoping– no, nearly praying at this point that the other woman won’t be frightened away.
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
Here the Dormouse shook itself and began singing in its sleep “Twinkle, twinkle, winkle, twinkle-” and went on so long that they had to pinch it to make it stop.
I’m a massive daydreamer. I’m constantly lost within my own fantasies and my own thoughts personally, and I think maybe that is sort of represented in what we do for a living, the fact that we make believe everything and we escape into these other characters for a living.
