#airflights

[joshiesworld]

Fear of Wheelchair Flying

My fear of wheelchair flying, the fear of traveling by air as a person who is in a wheelchair because there is a common that they damage their wheelchairs.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Who else has a tragedy/mystery connected with their birthday here?

[titenoute]

Ok but is this frequency still used for emergencies?

If so, does everyone shut the fuck up when there's an actual emergency or does it stay in perpetual chaos?

Asking just in case I visit the US one day...

ya'll who's up for group meowing

[ijustwant2ride]

Unboxing a nicely boxed ICON Air Flight Motorcycle Helmet

My daughter purchased a new motorcycle helmet, we unboxed it for the first look!

My daughter purchased a new motorcycle helmet, we unboxed it for the first look!

[foone]

Warp gates are cathedrals. Giant projects that take generations to build, incredibly important to the people served by them, and held as sacred neutral ground by all involved.

A warp gate is so important to the system it serves that everyone agrees it must be protected and supported.

No seafaring canal's blocking or weather event preventing airflight could compare. Interstellar colonization is an expensive business, and only the existence of warp gates makes it remotely possible. A planet without a warp gate may not starve immediately, but without spare parts and medical supplies and fuel coming through the gate, it will quickly lose most of the benefits of civilization. Will it still be there to rescue in the decades it will take to bring a new warp gate to them? No one wants to find out. That's why no one has ever destroyed (or even seriously damaged) a warp gate.

Perhaps the best example of this near-universal protective feeling was seen in the final days of the Consolidation War: the M.S. Uncertain Returns fired a nuclear weapon on the privateer Anne Bonny, while it was only 300,000 klicks from the k1544 gate, a smaller distance than the moon orbits the earth.

This violation of the gate's safety zone was so egregious that before the missile even had detonated, hostilities in the k1544 system had stopped due as a temporary ceasefire was called, and 29 warheads had been fired at the Uncertain Returns, 17 of which came from other Merchant's Guild ships. The message was clear: They would rather destroy an entire starship of their own defense force than risk damage to a warp gate, and they wanted to make that abundantly clear to all sides of the conflict, lest this desperate moment of sacrilege cause them to suddenly become Enemy #1 of every other faction in the galaxy. The gate wasn't damaged by the explosion at this range, but even a minor violation of the safe zone rules threatens the very basis of the entire interstellar transportation system.

A group who has damaged even one warp gate is going to find no berth at any harbor. Every armed ship in range is going to attack them immediately. There will be no surrender, no peace treaties, no opportunity to explain. Only immediate retribution.

No one kneels and worships at the warp gates, but would you really be surprised if they did?

[tagsecretsanta]

From @janetm74

From @janetm74 to @the-original-sineater

Dodecuplet: 12 musical notes performed in the time of the same value.

Or: 12 Christmas Eves over the years.

With much help from @mariashades

Prompts: 1) SCIENCE!! 2) Holiday in the Tropics  3)Odd family food traditions.  

One:  Scotland

Lucille Charlotte Evans met Amelia Candice Barclay on a wet and windy day in late August on the steps of a large house in St Andrews.

It was an inauspicious meeting. Lucille – Lucy to her friends – had just climbed out of a taxi and was about to drag her suitcase up the stairs when a gust of wind blew it out of her hands and she suddenly found herself racing down the hill after it.

Amelia happened to be the one who stopped it, or rather, was sent flying by it, and the two women, both strangers to Scotland, found themselves seated together in St Andrews Community Hospital Minor Injuries Unit while waiting for Amelia’s ankle to be x-rayed.

It turned out to be only badly sprained and a very guilty Lucy offered to take Amelia back to her home only to find out they were neighbours, sharing the same student accommodation only on different floors.

They quickly became firm friends by the end of the day, fuelled on the rather unusual local delicacy of deep-fried pizza, chips and cheap red wine.

Lucy was studying Astrophysics and Computer Science. Amelia was studying Economics and Social Anthropology. None of their classes overlapped but they had sections of time that did, and they often sat together in the University library or camped out in one of the museums in an out-of-the-way corner.

That first Christmas they both should have spent with their respective families but heavy snow grounded airflight and so they holed up in Amelia’s room and ate the only food they could scrounge up on Christmas Eve – haggis, neeps and tatties with  a dessert called cranachan and good whisky.

It was the weirdest feast both women had ever eaten. And the beginnings of a tradition they both tried hard to keep while in Uni together – Christmas Eve was always holed up in one of their rooms with their Scottish feast.

Two: Kansas

Ruth bustled around the farmhouse, singing at the top of her voice. The radio was blasting the top 100 tunes from the 80s and she was bopping as she plated food and wrapped them ready for the party.

‘Grant, hun, do you want a drink?’

‘Thanks, Ruthie, that would be lovely.’

She took out a bottle of root beer and watched with a fond smile as he turned the ribs in the smoker. No one cooked meat like her husband did, and while his Kansas BBQ beef was legend locally, so good that even Miss Ella had said she’d buy any leftovers off him – there were never any leftovers with her husband and son – but what Grant was really famous for was his Sweet Southern Slow-Cooker Ham.

Giving him a quick squeeze from behind Ruth returned to the kitchen to finish prepping all the cold foods they would need. It might be winter and cold here in Kansas but their Christmas wouldn’t be complete without the mounds of potato salad, coleslaw, soul food macaroni and pickles to go with the ham and burnt ends.. They’d never really been a turkey kind of family, reserving that bird exclusively to Thanksgiving.

Once Ruth had wrapped all the sides and packed them away she set about cleaning the house from top to bottom. A spick and span house she could do, cooking not so much, not unless you liked burnt as a flavour and a texture.

The day passed on and as it did so did the excitement in the household. Jeff was coming home today from NASA and he was bringing his best friends Lee Taylor and the Caseys. They hadn’t seen Jeff since the spring and as the sun began to go down the sound of a truck in the driveway heralded their guests.

Christmas Eve had become the traditional day they ate their meal and had done ever since the day they had married, with Ruth’s commitments at the local clinic they had always put other families ahead of their own, letting the workers have Christmas Day instead. Jeff had grown up knowing no different and loved having their celebrations a day early.

Arms snaked around her waist as Ruth put the kettle on and a head rested on her shoulder.

‘Ma, I swear you get younger every year.’

‘Flattery will not get you out of the dishes, Jefferson.’

‘Mmm, I’ll happily wash the dishes if Pa’s made his Ham and Burnt Ends.’

‘Stop asking stupid questions and take the coffees through.’

Jeff laughed and took the tray his Mom indicated.

Three: Kent

Lucy and Amelia’s friendship lasted long past University. It lasted the distance of the Atlantic Ocean.

NASA had snapped up Lucy once they’d seen her dissertation but despite the distance they chatted regularly and met up at least once a year, and always on Christmas Eve.

This year was going to be different.

This year Amelia had married.

It Amelia’s turn to host Christmas Eve dinner, and Lucy had brought her fiancé. They hadn’t been going out long but from the chats the two women were having Amelia knew this was the one.

She was eager to see her best friend again and hopeful that Lucy would get on with her husband. She’d laughed a good solid 10 minutes when she’d found out that Hugh was actually Lord Hugh Creighton-Ward, 11th Earl of Kent and that plain old Amelia Candice Barclay was to become Lady Amelia Creighton-Ward.

Speaking of her husband, she put down the spoon she was using to mix the swede and carrot mash and went to find him. It came as no surprise that he was holed up in his office – that Stanley the butler insisted on calling his ‘study’ – even on Christmas Eve. Her husband’s work for the Home Office didn’t stop just because it was an international holiday.

Knocking, she waited for his call before entering, and Amelia broke out into a grin at Hugh’s rueful face.

‘You caught me, Me!’

‘I did, Hugh. Are you done? Our guests should be arriving shortly.’

‘And you want me front and centre. Understood.’

‘I want you to be your usual witty self, my love.’

Hugh laughed and put his file back away in his safe before following his wife out to the kitchen. He pulled up a seat at the table and watched his wife putting the final touches to the meal they would shortly be serving.

He couldn’t believe this beautiful, amazing woman had agreed to marry him. He was ten years older, in a stodgy job and a member of the elite British aristocracy. The day his chauffeur accidently crushed her bike while parking was the day his life had changed. She’d been like a spitfire, giving first Grandy and, when she found out he was ‘just the chauffeur’ Amelia had turned to him and given him such a mouthful.

No one had ever spoken to him like that and by the time the lecture had finished he was smitten. They were engaged by the end of the month. Amelia had been a breath of fresh air to the estate. For a start off she worked closely with the staff to bring them more in line with the 21st Century and after some sweeping changes life had settled into a new routine.

Amelia loved to cook and Hugh had suddenly found that he loved to be in the kitchen, a place he’d never really frequented even as a boy. He loved watching her at work. She danced and sang unreservedly and created magic. He’d never eaten such food, and some of their meals had a distinctly Scottish flair on certain days, and his introduction to the national dish of haggis had been…interesting.

Now he was being inducted into another of Amelia’s traditions, the Scottish Feast on Christmas Eve. Amelia’s best friend Lucille was coming over from America with her partner Jeff. He’d met Lucy a couple of times but he knew Jeff by reputation.

Jefferson Tracy, first man on Mars. Everyone knew him. And now Hugh was about to have the man stay at the house with him. It didn’t faze him, he’d hobnobbed with the cream of British aristocracy and foreign diplomats, he was sure he could handle a hot-shot American.

They were going to eat relatively quickly after they arrived, it was late already and just as Amelia placed the last prepared dish into the aga a knock sounded on the door. She grinned at Hugh, grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind her as they made their way to the door.

Opening it the two women may have squealed – not that either were going to admit that – and the two men shook hands before Jeff pressed a bottle of Pappy Van Winkles Family Reserve. Impressed at the gift, Hugh stood aside and allowed them entry.

‘Good evening. Hugh Creighton-Ward. Please call me Hugh.’

‘Jefferson Tracy. Please call me Jeff. Thanks for invitin’ us.’

‘My pleasure. I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for.’

‘Lucy has been talking about nothing else for weeks.’

They settled into the kitchen rather than the dining room and Amelia passed around the hot toddies she’d prepared.

By the time dinner was over both men were firm friends and a new tradition had been created, with the invitation for the Creighton-Wards to come to Kansas next year.

Four: Dibrugarh

This Christmas Eve was going to be different.

Jeff, Lucy and their four children were off to Dibrugarh in India. Hugh, Amelia and their daughter Penelope had moved out early in the year ostentatiously to take on a job overseeing a tea plantation. The heat wasn’t really agreeing with Penny, but the ten-year-old was being a trooper.

The plane ride was long but enjoyable. They had flown from Kansas to Chicago and spent the day in the Windy City before sleeping overnight and taking the longest flight the boys had ever been on, 14 hours from Chicago to Delhi. With any other children it would probably have been difficult, but all boys had grown up flying, Scott starting at two months old. From Delhi to Dibrugarh, the last stretch being a little over three hours.

Hugh met them at the airport and drove them to a large villa on the outskirts of the town. It was obviously a new build but it was light and spacious and airy, just right for the temperature.

Drinks called Sherberts were given out and rather than collapsing in a tired heap Jeff and Lucy watched in amusement when the boys got a second wind, following Penny out and exploring while it was the adults who collapsed in a heap.

‘God, Hugh, I thought it would be hot in India!’

‘Not at this time of year.’

They laughed over drinks and chatted while the children ran in and out the rooms, even Penny coming out of her shell to join the boys in a game of tag.

Christmas Eve this year was not the Scottish Feast but an Indian one in the style of a Thali. Bhaat (steamed rice), Dal, Bhendir Sarosi (okra in mustard sauce), Lau Tenga (bottle gourd), Aloo Pitika (potatoes), Xaak Bhaji and the sides Kharoli – a papaya chutney and Assamese pickle, all washed down with a drink called Khar.

None of the Tracys were expecting a mild but highly spiced vegetarian meal, but they all enjoyed what was put before them, the boys in particular loving the open nature of the food and that they not only could help themselves from the central tray but that they could eat with their fingers. The meal was finished off with a selection of Indian sweets and glasses of Mango Lassi.

Scott declared that Indian sweets were almost as good as apple pie to the laughter of all. Lucy spent time with Amelia and the two woman who had helped cook the feast, taking notes and looking forward making some of these dishes once she’d returned home.

The evening ended with presents as usual and a happy puppy pile of Tracys and Creighton-Wards wrapped up tightly in blankets as fireworks lit up the sky.

Five: Fiji

Lucy rubbed her bump. She was getting big and pretty soon she’d have to stop flying. This was going to be their last holiday before baby number five was born.

Their Christmas vacation place this year held a double purpose. Not only were they holidaying in the tropics to give Lucy and John some much needed summer sun after both had been hospitalised with severe pneumonia, but they were here for a surprise Christmas present.

Jeff had been so secretive, the only indication of what he’d been up to was the location. Lucy looked out the window of their private jet as Jeff brought them into land. The ocean was so clear and sparkling!

Fiji was hot in comparison to Kansas, and for that first day Lucy just rested on the beach and baked. And boy did she feel better that evening! John too had some colour to his cheeks and Jeff relaxed a little, seeing that he’d made a good choice.

They had three days before the Creighton-Wards would join them. There was sadness at the thought. Penny had returned to England after a year in India, citing the weather as a reason, although Jeff and Lucy had their suspicions as to the real reason, but they would never ask and put their relationship under strain. It would be the first time Hugh and Amelia had seen their daughter for two years.

The boys understood to give the family room, and after an afternoon spent swimming and exploring the beach they returned to the villa to find the Creighton-Ward’s in their own puppy pile, evidence of tears long dried on all faces.

That evening they rested and just reorientated themselves around each other after missing last year.

Christmas Eve began with more swimming and sun lounging, with a thirteen-year-old Scott trying out some waterskiing for the first time. Lunch was going to be their Lovo Feast. Plates of Kokoda, Palisami, Fish Lolo and Vakalolo for dessert.

The food was some of the strangest they had ever eaten. Gordon’s face when he saw the raw fish made everyone laugh. But soon they had eaten their fill and rested and then Jeff was chivvying them all to the airport for his surprise.

The jet had been refuelled and was ready for them all but Jeff refused to say where they were going. He banned everyone from the cockpit…and that was when the Tracy family realised that the windows had been blacked out.

They had no way of knowing where Jeff was flying them…

It wasn’t too long a journey and they had soon landed. Jeff let them out and held Lucy close as she looked at where they were.

It was an island. Behind them a mountain rose up, in front and below them was a cove and a small patch of sandy beach. There was a gasp from every individual as they stepped off the plane onto the tiny runway. Her husband pulled her close and kissed her head.

‘Jeff?’

‘Do you like it?’

‘Like it…? What have you done?’

‘Done? Why, I’ve bought us an island to holiday on and eventually retire to.’

‘Oh.’

‘Oh? Is that all you can say?’

Lucy turned in his arms and kissed him soundly to the whistles and catcalls of their boys.

‘Was that enough words?’

‘Yes. Boys, Hugh, Amelia, Penny – welcome to Tracy Island.

Six: Kansas

This year Christmas was cancelled.

Scott tried his hardest but no one had the heart for it. With Alan still only a baby really at 21 months old there didn’t seem a point as he wouldn’t miss Christmas if they didn’t do it, and none of his other brothers had been able to muster up enough…drive, desire, want – Scott didn’t know what to call it – to do anything this year. And he couldn’t blame them.

They were never going to be whole again.

Seven: New York

It had been a battle Scott had lost despite fighting bitterly.

Jeff had sunk himself into Tracy Industries since their Mom and Grandpa’s death and the business had gone from strength to strength. And then earlier in the spring Jeff had hit a milestone, opening his headquarters in a new skyscraper in New York of all places as the first of many in an empire that was now beginning to go global.

This year had also seen changes at home, with both Scott and John leaving for their respective colleges and Gordon beginning to become a serious contender with his swimming. The Squid was going to go places – namely the Olympics – and he’d been pestering his Dad to let him attend a residential school that catered for Olympic hopefuls.

This Christmas Jeff had put his foot down. It was the first one since his boys had left and he was going to make the most of it.

Unfortunately, ‘make the most of it’ meant that instead of celebrating in a relaxed atmosphere at home they were all dressed up – suited and booted – and at Tracy Tower for the staff Christmas Party.

Scott had had words about dragging his brothers here, how it was unfair of Jeff to schedule the party on today of all days, but Jeff had held firm and dismissed him with a wave of his hand and the cutting remark that Scott didn’t know what he was talking about.

They had stopped talking for the last two days, but Scott was determined to give his brothers the best Christmas ever and had taken them all to Central Park that day and spoiled them rotten.

The staff party itself was actually fine, and Scott began to relax as it became clear that this was not one of his Dad’s networking meetings. A small band was playing Christmas pop tunes and people were dancing.

The food was…well, the food was delicious but there just wasn’t enough of it. Aware enough that if he ate as much as his stomach was telling him he needed to he’d probably get into trouble, Scott nibbled sadly as he wandered the room and looked out for his brothers.

John had brought a book and had curled up in a chair in the corner, resolutely ignoring all attempts at conversation. Virgil was currently under one of the tables, his sketch book out and another page being filled with whatever took the artist’s eye. Gordon was on his best behaviour, their dad making it absolutely clear that any discussion about him leaving home depended on his ability to show he was mature enough for it. And little Alan was with John, sitting under his chair and playing with the build-a-rocket kit that Scott had bought him earlier that day.

A hand on his shoulder had him freeze until a familiar voice sounded in his ear. Grinning, he turned and took in the sight of Penny, dressed in a…a…well, in a pink dress. Scott had no fashion sense; he had no idea what she was wearing.

But she looked stunning.

He took her hand and kissed it before offering her the floor, and at her slight nod Scott swept her up in a dance.

Maybe today wasn’t going to be a total loss after all…

Later that night the three eldest and Penny lay sprawled over the couch munching pizza and drinking pop as their fathers chatted over whisky in the kitchen. If Scott had his arm around Penny and if Penny was snuggling into his embrace well no one was going to mention it.

Eight: London

Penny hopped from foot to foot, much to Parker’s amusement. And he hoped that this Christmas would be a turning point for his ward.

They had buried Lady Amelia Creighton-Ward that spring and it had hit her daughter harder than expected. After spending so long apart, the news that her parents were moving back to England had filled Penny with hope for the opportunity to get to know them all over again, but they’d barely been back when her mother got sick.

The family that Penny was expecting had been instrumental in helping her through, and in particular the eldest, who would be arriving before everyone else since he was currently based in Germany.

She’d be lying if the thought of having Scott to herself hadn’t sparked something in her heart. Ever since that Christmas in Fiji they had been getting closer, and Scott had been calling her regularly since her mum…yeah, he knew how she felt, what she was going through. They would talk for what felt like hours even though each call was only around 30 minutes.

And there he was!

A head higher than everyone else, Scott strode confidently across the airport, looking for Penny. A shift in the crowd drew his attention, and Scott grinned as he saw Penny standing there, oblivious to the way the crowds parted for her – assisted in no small part from the grim expression on her guardian, Parker. He saw the moment she saw him, her smile lighting up the atmosphere.

Scott quickened up and, dropping his duffle at her feet, he caught her about the waist and swung her up and around, cherishing her laughter as she rested her hands on his shoulders.

They were staying in what Penny had called ‘the town house’. That term had not prepared Scott for the four-story house in the heart of Knightsbridge. Parker took Scott’s bag to his room and made his way to the kitchen where he prepared tea as slowly as he could. His Lady needed Scott right now.

He found them in the front drawing room, seated on the sofa. Scott was holding a sobbing Penny and he offered Parker a small smile as he tightened his hold. Parker sat the tray down and made a tactful withdrawal.

The next morning Parker drove them to the airport to pick up the rest of the Tracy family. He watched his ward and the boy through the mirror. She was looking brighter, and something loosened in his heart.

Parker watched as the boys gave his lady hugs and surrounded the pair before they swarmed through the airport to the car. They filled the space with a comfortable noise, both in the car and in the house, and they helped Penny relaxed even more.

Lil had made a light lunch so that the dinner could be the Christmas Eve feast Lord Hugh had asked her to prepare. After lunch Parker had taken Jeff to go and collect Hugh from his office and the rest settled down to watch some Christmas movies.

Scott and Penny were on one sofa, with Alan sitting on his brother’s lap and leaning back against him. John was sitting on the floor between Penny and his brother while Virgil and Gordon were curled up on the other sofa. All four brothers were asleep before the movie was even halfway through, their body clocks not yet adjusted to all the time they’d spent flying, and Scott and Penny let them snooze on so that they’d be fresh for the evening.

The smells from the kitchen soon roused the boys, and there was much amusement when Scott returned from there with red ears, red cheeks and a red hand. He slid back into his seat just as their fathers arrived home. There were more hugs and some chatting and then Parker returned to announce that dinner was ready.

Lillian had been given a very specific feast to create, a mixture of the family favourites. It was one of the most eclectic dinners she’d ever put together. It shouldn’t have worked, but for some reason it did. Lil reckoned it was because of who they all were, Parker wasn’t so sure, muttering under his breath about ‘boys’ and ‘cast iron stomachs thanks to Mrs Tracy senior’.

Haggis held court with baked ham with glazed vegetables. Plates of Fish Lolo sat next to Xaak Bhaji and sides of Kharoli and steamed Bhaat and to top it all off there were several desserts.

The families didn’t quieten down at all as food was consumed. And Parker was pleased to see his master and mistress begin to smile genuinely for the first time in a long time.

Nine: Germany

Jeff sat in the chair and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before stretching as much as possible while still sitting in the ridiculously uncomfortable chair.

He must have made a sound he was unaware of as a low moan came from the bed and Jeff sat forward carefully, picking up Scott’s hand as carefully as he could, mindful of the canula and the still-healing digits.

But Scott didn’t wake fully and after he settled back to sleep Jeff sighed.

A nurse entered with a tray and set it down on the table before pulling out her pad and recording details from the machines still attached to his son.

He took a deep breath.

His son.

His son was here.

Scott was here, alive.

Scott was alive.

Jeff still couldn’t believe Scott was there, and he gently kissed his son’s hand and placed it back on the bed.

‘Mr Tracy?’

‘Uh…yes?’

‘I brought you a meal.’

‘A – a meal?’

‘It’s Christmas Eve, Mr Tracy. We don’t have much, it is a military hospital after all, but we have a little. I don’t know what you eat but I brought some ham, turkey and some vegetables. And I’m sorry but I could only get green Jello for dessert.’

‘Nurse…?’

‘Abby. Please, sir, call me Abby.’

‘Abby, I am very, very touched by this.’

‘You are more than welcome, Sir.’

He eyed the tray, not inclined in the least to try and eat anything and turned back to watching Scott. Jeff didn’t pay any more heed to the nurse, but as she left she paused in the doorway.

‘Colonel Tracy, I just want you to know that your son is in the very best of hands and we’re proud to be looking after him.’

‘Thank you, Abby. That – that means a lot.’

‘I know you don’t want to eat, but Scott needs you to be strong so please try and eat something.’

‘I – I will.’

The door closed quietly and Jeff looked at the tray again. Green Jello had been the dessert Virgil had loved the most, fighting his brothers for it, invariably being rescued by Scott snatching it out of Gordon’s hands. Scott’s was always the red one, much like Alan. Stifling a sob at the memory, Jeff picked up the Jello and ate it slowly as he watched his son’s chest rise and fall.

Ten: Argentina

It was a heavy feeling of déjà vu as Jeff sat at another bedside and held the hand of another son who he’d believed was dead, but turned out Tracys were determined people, for which Jeff thanked his Irish ancestors.

Another bed, another military hospital, another Christmas away from the rest of his boys as he tried to keep one alive.

He’d never believed that anyone could come back more injured than Scott. His eldest had been held and tortured in a supposed POW camp for three months and had his arm and leg bones broken. Many had healed incorrectly and Scott had needed multiple surgeries to reset breaks. But that had needed to wait until he was better – if the double pneumonia, sepsis and malaria didn’t kill him first.

But Gordon, in typical younger sibling energy, had outdone his eldest brother.

The hydrofoil crash had claimed the lives of all the crew, and for almost half an hour Gordon too, but the paramedics had been able to bring him back from the dead. And when Jeff had finally managed to get someone to talk to him he had found out that Gordon had broken almost every bone, including his spine.

Even as he sat stunned at the news Scott had corralled everyone he knew to try and look for a solution to get his brother walking again, refusing to believe that their Squid could lose that ability.

Brains had come up with the solution, working closely with the spinal surgeons and physios to replace the broken sections of vertebrae and nerves with a Cahelium scaffolding framework.

Gordon had had the first surgery yesterday. He was still under; the operation had taken all day and most of the night and the anaesthesia was yet to wear off. Jeff began massaging the hand he held, humming one of Lucy’s tunes as he did in an effort to both stir Gordon and comfort them both.

‘I haven’t heard you hum that tune for a long time.’

Jeff looked to the door where Scott stood, a bad in one hand and two coffees in the other. His cane was nowhere in sight and he frowned at his son. Scott half-shrugged, completely unapologetic and Jeff sighed in exasperation.

‘How is he?’

‘Same as he was before you left for coffee.’

‘Yeah…’

Scott trailed off. Being here in these circumstances…it was bringing back unwanted memories. He’d bolted a couple of times, but he was getting better at staying. Having a younger sibling who needed him was helping him cope better with the trauma he’d been through himself.

This time he’d left willingly, for coffee. And returned with more. He took something from the bag before handing it to his Dad. Jeff wasn’t surprised to see an apple Danish in Scott’s hand and one in the bag for himself.

They solemnly tapped their cups together.

‘Merry Christmas, Dad.’

‘Merry Christmas, Scott.’

‘Do…Do you think you can keep it down? How’s a Squid supposed to sleep?’

It was the first genuine smile either man had smiled for a long time.

Eleven: International Rescue

There was an air of festivities on Tracy Island the like they hadn’t had for a long time. Everyone was here, both family and friends.

International rescue had been operating for almost eight months, and in that time their reputation had gone from strength to strength. Lee Taylor, Tim and Val Casey and Jeff had been the founders, but the last four months Jeff and Lee had been training Scott, John and Virgil to take their roles in the organisation set up in honour of their Mom.

Christmas on the island was polar opposite to Kansas where they had grown up. December was quite warm – around 70°F compared to about 25°F in Kansas – and although they’d officially lived on the island for a few years now, this was the first Christmas all the Tracys, the Creighton-Wards, the Kyranos and Brains were together. Only the Caseys and Lee were missing, Tim and Val unable to get out of work at the GDF due to some top-secret test (that Scott and John absolutely did not know about, no sir, they did not know about the Zero-X at all) about to occur and Lee because he was back on Alphie, trying to persuade NASA not to destroy their beloved base.

Virgil had been acting oddly all week, and once John had come down he’d joined him, they immediately stopped whatever they were doing every time Jeff walked into the same room. He’d caught whispers about something lost, but to be honest Jeff was just revelling in having all five boys and Tanusha under the same roof for once.

Their Dad wasn’t the only one who had noticed John and Virgil’s odd behaviour. Both Scott and Gordon had, but Scott had his hands full with Alan, the eight-year-old had clung to his eldest brother like a limpet, not that Scott minded, but that meant leaving Gordon to find out what was going on…Gordon promised that he would behave but Scott knew better than to trust that kind of promise – there were many shades to “behaving” when it came to Gordon and Scott was well versed in his prankster brother’s ability to create loopholes. Both brothers would vehemently deny it, but when it came to finding loopholes in something John and Gordon were identical. Scott himself would deny that he and Gordon were the same when it came to pranks, but he’d be lying just as much as John would be…

Whatever they were trying to do also involved Virgil’s studio. The place was a strict ‘invite-only’ place, but Virgil had taken to locking the door – both when he was out of the studio and when he was inside – and had lived up to his “bear” reputation when Scott had tried to find out what they were up to. He had backed away quickly when Virgil literally growled at him.

As the week progressed the smells coming from the studio were mouthwatering, though, and as time passed more and more Scott found himself wandering past trying to work out what the two were up to.

All anyone could work out was that it was definitely *ham* that was being cooked, but why it needed such secrecy was anyone’s guess.

Christmas Eve dawned clear, bright and hot. Breakfast was a riotous affair with so many people, an eclectic mix of traditional American, English and Malay foods meaning everyone had something they enjoyed.

Dinner was due that evening, giving everyone all day for whatever activities they had planned. Games were played, films played in the background. Lunch was a spread of finger food for them to help themselves as they so wished.

Virgil and John disappeared back into the studio. Out of the kiln Virgil pulled the latest attempt at recreating Grandpa Grant’s Baked Ham. This was their fifth attempt but, as tasty as the ham was, it was missing something. Virgil sighed despondently as John’s hand landed on his shoulder and gave him s squeeze.

‘I really wanted this to be ready for tonight but – *sigh* – it won’t be.’

‘It would have been nice, I agree, but you’re really close!’

‘Not close enough, John.’

‘We can do this, Virgil! It’s just a matter of using science and all our taste and memories to work out what Grandpa’s secret ingredient was!’

‘The secret ingre….’

The klaxon drowned out whatever else was going to be said and both men legged to the lounge where the command centre had already been engaged.

‘There’s a problem with the Zero-X launch. Scott, suit up and meet me in One. John, can you return to Five and direct us from there?’

‘FAB Dad.’

‘FAB, Dad.’

‘Kyrano, you have the command centre. Thunderbirds are go!’

Later on, when Scott finally came home, dinner had been forgotten as had all thoughts of food. Once he returned to the lounge Alan all but launched himself at Scott, his other brothers following suit. The four collapsed in a huddle in the middle of the floor, with John’s holo looking on. Pretty soon they were joined by Penny and Kayo and then the older adults surrounded them.

For the second time in their lives Christmas was cancelled.

Twelve: Tracy Island – Together Again

‘What about this?’

‘No – I’ve looked in that box. What about that one?’

‘Hang on…yes! They’re in here!’

This year promised to be their best Christmas ever!

In early spring the five of them with Brains had done the impossible. They had flown to the Oort Cloud, rescued their Father and returned home. Jeff had spent the remainder of the year in a specialist rehab centre, but now he was due home.

Due home on Christmas Eve. What could be more perfect?

So Tracy Island became a hive of activity as everyone prepared for his return. Scott got busy making sure iR and TI could survive the day without them, Gordon and Alan took it upon themselves to decorate the lounge. Brains had muttered something about snow and Kayo was busy in the kitchen with her father and Parker cooking up a feast. Even Uncle Lee had been picked up from Mars earlier in the week by Alan and John.

Virgil and John took it upon themselves to spend the week perfecting Grandpa’s Baked Ham recipe in celebration of having their family all under one roof again. The villa soon filled with the delectable smell of ham.

Every day they tried a new combination in their quest. John had suggested using science to work out what they were missing.

So they started at the beginning by asking the question – AKA ‘interrogating’ Grandma.

Unfortunately Grandma knew nothing. Her husband had been protective of his recipe, not because he didn’t trust her, but because Grant knew what a terrible cook his wife was. It had been a joke that Sally could burn water for their entire married life, and she’d proved that to be the case so, so many times. It hadn’t occurred to anyone that there would come a time when he wouldn’t be around anymore…

So the two brothers formed a hypothesis and theorised that Grandpa would have used ingredients to hand, so they thought long and hard about the kinds of food flavourings they had seen around the old kitchen farmhouse.

Based on that hypothesis they gathered groups of flavourings to try as the predictions part of the scientific method.

Testing the hypothesis had been fun at first. They had mixed flavourings like some kind of kitchen wizards, testing combinations out.

Their family had appreciated most of the ham results. At first. After three days and seven hams even Gordon had begun to complain, but Scott remained oblivious to the amount of thick-cut ham sandwiches he was consuming as he worked.

Tests complete, they analysed the data and drew some conclusions. Nothing matched. They had come close a couple of times, but there was still one key ingredient they were missing, so they tried a different method.

They began searching for their Grandpa’s secret recipe.

They tore into the storage room in the basement, looking through old boxes of stuff that hadn’t been opened since they had moved here from Kansas. They had had to stop for the rest of the day when they stumbled on the one filled with pictures of their Mom and them growing up.

John picked up a heavy box to place it on top of another to make it easier to look into. He’d been down almost the entire week and so gravity wasn’t its usual problem, but the box was heavier than he had anticipated and in manoeuvring it he caught the bottom box. It was enough to make the bottom of the box he was carrying split open, spilling books all over the floor.

A particularly heavy tome flattened his toes and John yelped. Virgil abandoned his box to come and make sure his brother wasn’t too badly hurt, picking up an old tractor manual. It was for Grandpa’s old Deere, the tractor both he and a tiny Virgil had adored both – it was a giant green machine after all…

A feeling of nostalgia washed over him as he flicked through the well-thumbed pages, some still with Grandpa’s oily fingerprints on. As he browsed a yellowing slip of paper full of Grandpa’s neat, careful writing slipped out from between the pages.

With slightly shaking fingers John bent to pick the page up and read it aloud:

Sweet Southern Slow-Cooker Ham

“Ingredients:

1 bone-in fully-cooked ham, about 5.5lb

1 cup apple cider vinegar

½ cup of dark brown sugar

1/3 cup of Kentucky bourbon

¼ cup of honey

¼ cup Dijon-style mustard

4+ sprigs of thyme”

Virgil smacked his forehead. Bourbon? The missing ingredient was bourbon?? He picked John up and swung him around. Both men were laughing before carefully packing the box and putting it back away and returning to the studio.

Several hours later and Virgil was bringing Two into land.

They were all there to bring their Dad home and Jeff was revelling in just being here. He still used a cane to walk around, but he was so much more than the husk of a man they had rescued ten months ago. He’d put on weight, had almost got used to gravity again and was looking forward to sleeping in his own bed with his own children, his Ma and his friends all around him.

Christmas Eve. What a special day to return home. There were so many Christmas Eves that had been special for various reasons, but today was going to be the best ever. As they arrived in the lounge to the cheering of those who had stayed behind and to the smells of food ready to be eaten.

Jeff watched as his children and his friend’s children orientated themselves around him and each other. Huh…interesting. He’d known Scott and Penny had a bit of a thing for each other before…before that time, but now to see Penny sitting with Gordon he realised that ship had sailed. Instead, Scott had gravitated to Kayo, an unusual pairing to be sure, Jeff thought, seeing that they were potentially too similar in temperament, but if it worked then he’d be more than happy for both boys.

Ma, Kyrano and Parker were busy laying the table when John and Virgil brought in a covered dish. There were a few groans from Gordon and Alan which had Jeff raising his eyebrows at them and they quietened down.

The ham was uncovered with a flourish once everyone was seated and ready to help themselves. Scott, recognising the smell of Grandpa’s secret Baked Ham, insisted that Jeff have the first slice and that everyone wait until their Dad and friend had pronounced judgement.

The smell hit Jeff like a thunderbolt. He’d not smelt this particular aroma for…wow, was it really almost twenty years since they had lost Lucy and his Pa? Water welled but didn’t fall from his eyes as Jeff fought to keep his composure.

And then he tastes it.

Tears fell as memories of home, of being a child growing up on the farm, of that first Christmas he’d introduced Lucy to his parents, of the time a two-year-old Scott had managed to pull the tablecloth off the table and was busy hoovering up the food that had fallen, heedless of the adults’ cries of panic over the broken glass and China.

That first time Hugh, Amelia and Penny had come over for Christmas and then Kyrano and Kayo had joined them…and Brains too vied with thoughts of the dried astronaut food he’d sustained himself on when alone out there in the Oort Cloud.

All these memories rushed upon him and Jeff suddenly realised he’d dropped his fork and was just sitting there staring into space, his family looking on with worried faces.

Jeff cleared his throat and wiped his eyes.

‘Thank you. Thank you all. This is without doubt the best Christmas Eve I have had in a very, very long time.’

[rose-in-a-fisted-glove]

Okay, but also,

Why was a round trip 5 hour airflight to another country only $100 more than a r/t train ticket from Boston to NYC for Thanksgiving weekend?

[diamondnokouzai]

dont waste my fucking time telling me about uruguayan airflight 571 when youre making a youtube video called 'how to eat a human being'. christ. you might as well start a marine biology course by telling me that you cant drink ocean water.

[hinatastinygiant]

34 | Basil

Pairing: Tokyo Revengers x Fem!Reader

Wasteland Masterlist

After about an hour's walk (which felt like five hours ever since Hinata lost it from the dead raccoon) you finally arrive outside the airport.

"Should we make some kinda plan or..." Chifuyu whispers to the two of you. However, with just one passing glance toward Hinata, the two of you start making your way through the front door.

Almost immediately after you step through, a tall man with a shotgun jumps in front of you. It takes you a moment to recognize him as your friend's brother, but when you do, a wave of relief washes over you.

Hinata throws her arms around her brother so fast it leaves Naoto's head spinning.

"Is that her boyfriend?" Chifuyu whispers to you. "Cause they look kinda..."

"They're siblings," you smile at him as Hinata pulls away from the hug.

"You two look like you're doing well," Naoto nods in your direction as he hugs you next. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Chifuyu. He's with us, it's okay," you explain. "Is Takemichi around?"

"Yeah, right this way. I'll show you to him."

Hinata and her brother talk the whole way from the entrance of the airport, past all the security checks, and down a long hallway into one of the airflight waiting areas.

Leaning up against one of the desks in the center of the hallway you spot him. He doesn't spot your group at first until he finally hears Hinata and Naoto talking and picks up his head.

Immediately, he comes running in your direction and pulls both you and Hinata into a tight embrace. "You got my message! I'm so glad," he practically wails in your ears as his eyes and nose start running.

"Hey, uh, maybe get a tissue 'fore you get your germs all over my sister," Naoto rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry," Takemichi shakes his head while wiping his arm across his face, earning a disgusted groan from Naoto. “I’m sorry, and you are?” he then asks, finally realizing that Chifuyu’s standing awkwardly beside you.

“Chifuyu,” he answers, holding out his hand toward Takemichi before decidedly retracting his arm. “Now what?” he then whispers to you as you pat his shoulder.

“Is it just you two?” you then ask.

“No,” Takemichi shakes his head. “The others are back here. They were playing cards before but I don’t know now. I fucking lost.”

“Same old Takemichi,” you smile at Hinata.

In the corner at the end of the long hallway you spot two men sitting on the ground playing cards. “Hey guys,” Naoto calls out. “You got a sec?”

The two of them carefully place down their cards as though they were positive the other will cheat and sneak a look the second their eyes move along to something else. Nevertheless, they still stand up and walk over to meet you.

The first of the two has long blonde hair and a collar around his neck that looks like a belt. His soft eyes shift between the three of you before he smiles and introduces himself to you as Takuya.

Then the second of the two continues to stare at you all with his hands buried deep into his pants pockets. “How many days you all got?” he suddenly asks.

“Uh, Akkun can we not get into all that right now? Look I know them so it’s alright, okay?” Takemichi whispers not so quietly.

Akkun huffs as he looks at Takemichi, not quite sure what to believe.

“Hey, you wanna help me look for some food?” Naoto quietly asks Chifuyu. You watch as your friend nods in agreement before the two silently walk away.

“I have fifteen,” you pipe up once Chifuyu’s out of earshot.

“And I’ve got four,” Hinata adds.

“Now you,” you nod toward Akkun.

He sighs as he pulls out his left hand from his pocket and flips his wrist over to show you his number. Amongst the various tattoos he has, you see the number three glistening in bold.

“I have three, too,” Takemichi tells you. “We go out and try to make one kill a day but we really struggle with it as you can tell. It’s just so hard to actually pull the trigger on someone. Most of us just end up hesitating and the other person gets away.”

“You’re lucky you haven’t been shot,” you scoff while Hanma’s words ring in your ear.

“You're a murderer, Y/N,” he had said to you so calmly. “You don't hesitate when it comes time to do it.”

“Same with us,” Hinata nods as she looks over at you with eyes that scream play along!

“Yeah,” you nod as well.

After a few minutes of talking with mostly Takemichi and Takuya, Chifuyu and Naoto return empty-handed.

“What happened? Nothing to eat?” you ask as Chifuyu takes you by your hand.

“Come outside, you’ve got to see this,” he says with a straight face.

With you at his side and the rest of the group following just behind, Chifuyu leads you outside and around to the side of the airport. There, on the ground, you spot a dead horse.

“Holy shit,” you gasp. But when Chifuyu looks at you with a

“What the hell is that?” Akkun scoffs.

“A horse?” Takemichi thinks aloud.

“Hey, remember that time you said you were so hungry you could eat a horse,” Hinata chuckles as she nudges Takemichi in the side.

“Yeah ‘cause I didn’t think I’d actually have to do it,” he groans.

“Can I borrow you for a second?” Chifuyu then whispers as he touches your arm.

You nod and follow him a little ways off from the group. “What’s going on?” you then ask.

“Something’s off. What happened while I was gone?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“Nothing,” you shrug.

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

“Jesus, how the hell’d you even catch on so quick, huh?” you scoff.

“Seriously, what happened? Do we need to get out of here?” he continues to ask worriedly.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” you answer uncomfortably. "It's just what they were talking about. How it’s hard to kill other people. But I haven’t been having a problem like that before. Does that make me a bad person? Like a psychopath or something?”

“No, of course not,” he attempts to comfort you as he rubs your arms softly. “You’re not crazy, Y/N. People just handle things differently, that’s all.”

After you nod, Chifuyu smiles softly and lifts his hand to your cheek. He then kisses you, which you reciprocate quietly.

“How did you find a horse?” you then ask suddenly as a smile appears on your lips.

“Luck, I guess,” he grins.

While the two of you walk back to the horse with the others, you notice Takemichi and Hinata walking off together.

“What’s that about?” you ask Naoto.

“Please,” he scoffs. “I don’t even want to think about what that dumbass is about to do to my sister.”

“Then how ‘bout we spend our energy dealing with this meat, yeah?” Chifuyu speaks up. “I don’t know about you guys but I’m starving.”

“Me too,” you nod. “I’m in. I’ll help.”

“Us too,” Takuya agrees as he nudges Akkun in the arm.

“Yeah, I think I’d rather do that,” Naoto agrees. “Help us cut and I know where to store it.”

Wasteland Masterlist

[slashermary]

airflight travel can make your body feel bad. has anyone ever talked about this in a public way?

[jeanjauthor]

*sighhh...* They missed half the Orkney Islands...including the ones with the entry in the Guiness Book of Records.

The one with the purple lable Noup Head Lighthouse is Westray, and the one with Knap of Howan is Papa Westray, and they hold the Guiness Book of Records for the world's official SHORTEST daily commercial airflight route. I think the GBR says it was 2 minutes flat, or maybe a couple seconds over but I personally timed it from wheels off the runway to wheels on the runway, and that day that I watched it, it was 1m 57s. (I think they had a tailwind the day I watched.)

It's a little commuter plane, seats about 8 people, and it takes off and lands a few times in the morning and a few times in the evening, because it's faster and cheaper to take a small plane like that than it is to spend literal hours sailing over the sea.

Westray is also home to Noltland Castle (nolt = cattle, iirc), which has an absurdly high number of cannon loops. Not arrow loops, but cannon loops or portholes. Like, 72 or so...and it's NOT a big castle. It was never fully finished, but it was finished enough to live comfortably (for the time), plus it was highly defensible, and it was expected to become the place of retreat for Mary, Queen of Scots when being pursued by the English. Unfortunately, at the last minute she chose instead to head south for France, and was captured (etc'd) by the English. (The locals are very proud of the fact their ancestors were prepared to house The Queen.)

(Not all of the castle, but you can definitely see some of the cannon loops!)

How do I know all of this, and for that matter, why did I go there? Well, 2014, the World Science Fiction Convention was being held in London, and my mother and I decided we wanted to visit some relatives waaaay up in Scotland. On Westray. So they took us ALL over the place, and that's when I got to see the GBR record being (unofficially) beaten by like 4-5 seconds.

And yes, it is very, very windy. Like, wimdy windy. Literally, no trees grow up in the Orkneys unless they are in protected valleys, hollows, sunken gardens, or enclosed by walls. The tallest "tree" mum & I saw on Westray itself was a row of fuschia bushes that was probably close to 9 feet tall, slightly taller than the fence sheltering it. In fact, most gardens are sunken gardens, by at least a yard or more, specifically so the plants can grow safely, sheltered by the wind.

But it almost never snows in the Orkneys. (Can't speak for the Hebrides.) It rains intermittently, too, so it's almost always green with grass. It is almost always perfect sheep-grazing weather, and some cattle-grazing...but mostly sheep because sheep come with their own woollens for winter, and even Scottish cattle don't get that shaggy. (The reason Noltland Castle was named so, the locals suspect but cannot say for certainty, is that the local lord could afford to own cattle.)

So yes, there were a lot of sheep around the area, and you can bet they'll have their wool being made into Harris Tweed.

I don't know if anyone would want to visit Westray (other than for the awesome castle, lol) without having relatives all the way up there (like we did), but if you can visit the Orkneys, do give it a try! The main isle has the Stones of Stenness, the Ring of Brogar (both of which you can actually go up to and touch, unlike Stonehenge!), Skara Brae (the oldest intact Neolithic village in existence, so very cool!!!), and the Italian Chapel, made out of a Quonset Hut during WWII for the Italian prisoners of war.

(Stones of Stenness)

(Part of the Ring of Brodgar, which is huge, too huge to get into my camera view without having walked over a football field away.)

They were building cement buttressed causeways to connect a few of the nearby islands to the main one to try to cut off submarine access to the isles, and being Catholics instead of Anglicans or Protestants, they politely requested the camp commander for a Catholic church and priest. The commander, not being a total dirtbag, got them a Quonset hut, some cans of paint, etc, and told them they could work on building it when their daily work was done.

It's getting on in years, but the grandson of the artist (Italian POW) who originally painted the interior has come round a few times to touch up the paint job. Let me tell you something: You have to touch the walls to make sure they're not actually plaster relief work.

That is a flat, smooth wall.

Flat.

So while the Orkneys are a "piddy bit" (Scottish Orkadian for "little bit") off the beaten path, there are some interesting things you can go see! Plus, sheep. (I don't have any pictures of sheep, though, sorry.)

(Hebrides, you're on your own for Enthusiastic Tourist-ing.)

The answer to "What the h*ck goes on on those islands to the North and West of mainland Scotland?" by Derek Guy @/dieworkwear on twitter [x]

[inertiatours257]

How To Plan The Perfect Spring Break Trip With Friends?

Did you finally get plans for Spring Break in South Padre? It's precisely an amazing spring break destination. But wait before hanging out for South Padre. Here are the tips you must follow while planning well and organizing spring vacation as a student among friends.

Check Booking Beforehand: That’s something important and needs not to be missed at any cost if you need to travel hassle away. Look out for the best hotel, airflights, and activity packages within the budget you may have with your friends.

Explore The Site Over The Web: Of course, everything is all available on the web, so it is better to explore the spring break destination over the Internet. Ensure the climate, location, temperature, interest and more things about spring break travel place.

Compare The Cost: In the race to pick the best hotel, discounted flight tickets, and other expenses, it is good to compare. This is important to save a lot of money on spring break travel with friends.

The Final Verdict:

If you are planning for Spring Break in South Padre, then the above-mentioned tips are worthwhile. From bookings to costs, everything matters when hanging out with friends on the newest travel destination. To manage the expenses, the best way is to ask within the group of friends you are going on spring break to equally participate and add money as a contribution.

[lusynthiaa]

fuck, gridman universe was so good and now i kinda regret watching the shitty 360p airflight entertainment rip of it LOL

[kikkofindaeas]

New Kwestion ...

for Kwestionary Airflights Lines

In wich manner une religious ...

correlate at " Travels in Time " ??

and at " Vark Dimensionals " ??

and at " X-Files " ??

...

( Arak Abab - SHS )

Ulteriorly one ...

What stay ... Dogma ??

( Eielae Elarkiin )

To at dipendents and saltuarly ...

yearly randomly ...

( B.T.O.I. )

[anumberofhobbies]

Building A Twin Ion Engine (TIE) Catamaran (ft. RcTestFlight)

Jun 9, 2023 SEATTLE Ionic thrust has massive potential to change how we look at propulsion. We've used ion engines for spaceflight, and have started applying ionic thrust towards Airflight. I argue, it's time to turn our eyes to the ocean, and quiet down rock concert we've turned the ocean into. The greatest strength of ionic thrust, may be its silence. So, we built a TIE catamaran, straight from the Dark Side.