#and the line that i thought was a kite string in the distance

[pynkhues]

https://www.tumblr.com/pynkhues/766748848331898880/growing-up-in-a-cattle-station-family-in-rural?source=share

This is kind of blowing my mind--I'm American and we are obviously a very big country, but I'm trying to imagine anyone having so much land (or just so much land being available anywhere) that they would have to drive four hours even to reach the edge of their own property

Yeah, I mean!! Australia's a big country, and - globally speaking - no one lives here, lol. I can't articulate to you how small some towns in rural/remote Australia are, despite the country's size, but mm, okay, I'll try, haha:

When I did that particular tour of rural Queensland [I live in Melbourne, Victoria, but 'm from Brisbane originally, which is the capital city of Queensland], it was a part of a creative project funded by the state archive to build a food memory of Q, and a part of that was taking celebrity chefs to remote parts of the state to help people write about passed-down family recipes. It was genuinely one of the most fun jobs I ever had, and I met so many interesting people, and I think about it all the time, haha.

In that, we flew into Mount Isa, which is a mining town, and then just - - drove! For hours! And the landscape just alternates between this:

And this:

(Both of these are literally just Mount Isa too)

It honestly is such a unique landscape, and when you're out in it truly, you don't feel like there's anyone else in the world. Like, God, half of Australia's entire population lives between Sydney and Melbourne! That's always crazy to me, especially given the breadth of the country. Jodie Foster filmed a movie here years ago and just said she couldn't believe how much of Australia was untouched, which is a lovely thing to say, but only partially true, of course.

But yeah, like, I also did a year-long freelance writing contract for the Q Department of Education about five years ago, and there are schools there which have literally six students per year level MAX. One school we were preparing child safety documents for was a prep-10 school (a lot of remote schools don't offer year 11 and 12) had eight students total in the entire school.

(Slightly off topic, but a lot of the resources I was writing there were just begging children to stop daring each other to eat kangaroo poo, because they kept getting Q Fever, so there's a little bit of trivia for you, haha).

It's why a lot of kids are still sent out to board in city schools - particularly if they intend to graduate - hence Sam going to school in Sydney doesn't surprise me at all. Again, I don't know if he was a boarder, but Cranbrook offers it and I know anecdotally farm kids tend to board (again, my mum did, and I know a lot of other people who did too), and I know Cranbrook caters to rich rural farming families.

Also just anecdotally, outside of schooling, my sister has been living regionally so when I say she's in family court, she's in a regional one, and one of the things that I hate to say surprised me given what I talk about above was that in the Readiness & Compliance Hearing where a group of us are all getting to hear each other's business, the average time to get to the closest court from remote Australia was 7 hours. So yeah.

Big country, and a very, very dispersed population.

[desertflowerbowling]

Who am I to pull you down to earth?

Summary: Jon considers the effects of Martin’s decision.

Words: 1700

Warnings: canon-typical loneliness and self isolation. Also the song lyrics imply drug use.

Notes: This is a songfic to “The Man I Knew” by Dessa, which you can listen to here.

read on ao3

By the time that you told me, it was already plain that you'd changed

But your conscience was clean and as white as a line of cocaine

My back to the wall of your bedroom apartment

You're talking in circles, got two cigarettes burning

And I couldn't hide how afraid I was to see you so strange

As soon as Martin spoke the name “Peter Lukas”, Jon knew he wasn’t going to get him back. The Lonely was possessive, possibly even more so than the Eye. It isolated you, then made you crave that isolation. And looking in Martin’s eyes now, Jon could already see something distant in them, something anxious to leave this conversation far behind.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” Jon said. How many times had someone else told him that very thing? He had never listened, but now he was begging Martin to.  “Please, Martin.”

Martin pulled his arm away before Jon could rest his hand on it. “I’ll be fine. I have a plan.” He shuffled his armload of papers. “Now, if we’re done here…”

They weren’t. Jon stepped aside anyway.

“I know what I’m doing,” Martin whispered as he walked away.

Don't get me wrong, I've got no ill will for you

It'd just been so long, I thought I'd always know you

But you're so far gone

Up where the air gets thin

Jon watched him go. Back to Peter Lukas’s office, presumably. Only a single floor stood between the archives and the library offices, but that distance was now almost impossible to cross.

In all honesty, Jon couldn’t blame Martin for choosing this route. From the little he shared with Jon about his reasons, he had to be doing it out of a desire to protect the Institute ( to protect you, a tiny, selfish part of his brain whispered), and whatever else Peter Lukas had offered him would have to have been very enticing to get Martin on his side. How long had they been working together? Logically, it couldn’t have been earlier than just after the Unknowing, but Martin’s eyes… something about them wasn’t right. It wasn’t just that he wouldn’t look at Jon, or that he hardly blinked. There was something wrong with his eyes. That the Lonely could mark him so deeply in just a few months scared Jon more than the idea of Martin secretly working with Peter before the Unknowing.

You cut the kite strings

I've seen my name in lights, I've seen my face in papers

But my civilian life, I spent ten good years waiting

Waiting for you

Martin was clearly convinced he wasn’t hurting anyone just by staying away. And Jon would not convince him otherwise. Martin’s mind was made up, and Jon had endured worse.

You charmed the snake

You picked the card

You bent the spoon

A curved plane, the shapes change

So sure, Martin was playing a dangerous game, but wasn’t that what they all did best? Take a seat with death at a card table, then cheat and pray to whatever entity’s taken a shine to them that they weren’t caught.

Nathaniel Thorp did this literally, and it didn’t go well, the Eye helpfully supplied.

“Shut up,” Jon mumbled.

Euclid's made to play the fool, but

I don't know what that stuff does to you

And I don't know if it's real, but

I spent a decade in love with you

And I just can't tell if you're here, cause

Jon didn’t see Martin again for another two weeks, and even then, it was one-sided. Jon saw him coming and hid around a corner to watch him pass by.

He looked tired. More than tired, he looked drained. And his eyes were still wrong; they reminded Jon of Peter Lukas’s, though he couldn’t quite pin down why. When he breathed, his glasses fogged up much faster than they should have. As he passed by Jon’s hiding space, Jon saw his lips had a bluish tinge, even though Martin didn’t seem to be feeling any sort of cold.

Then he was gone, and Jon was left with only a chill in the air and the question of what the hell Peter Lukas was doing to his coworker- former coworker?- no, his friend. Former friend?

The man I knew

I don't think that he can hear me now

So dizzy with the altitude

It's just too far

Who am I to tell you to come down?

Almost a month had passed when they ran into each other again. Martin was rushing down the hallway, computer and file folders tucked under his arm, looking this way and that as though he was being followed, and slammed right into Jon. They both apologized profusely, gathered their things, and Martin was about to run off again when Jon reached out and grabbed his wrist. His skin felt almost icy, and when Martin turned to look at Jon, Jon could finally see what was wrong with his eyes.

They were gray. A foggy, washed-out gray that Jon had only ever seen in the eyes of one other person. Peter Lukas.

Jon meant to say, “I’m sorry,” or “It’s been a while,” or something, anything other than, “Please come back.”

“What?” Martin tried to pull away, but Jon held on tighter.

“Can’t you see what this is doing to you?”

“Jon-”

“You’re so cold, all the time, but you never notice-”

“Jon!”

“Your eyes, Martin! They’re gray like Peter’s, what is he-”

“ Jon! ”

Jon stopped and stared at Martin.

“Just- just shut up,” Martin said wearily. “You’re worrying too much.” He freed his wrist from Jon’s now-slackened grip, and turned away. “And stop finding me.”

There was something so distinctly un-Martin about the whole interaction that Jon could only stand in silence and watch him go.

Lucky that my palate still prefers a legal poison

Who am I to tell you to come down?

Sit back and raise a glass, a glass to easy choices

Who am I, yeah, who am I, yeah who am I

To tell you to come down?

What would it be like to have to feed something that only hungered for emptiness? The Eye, at least, was clear in its desires, even if those desires were a dark and twisted thing.

In a way, Forsaken and Beholding were almost opposites. Martin’s… patron? forced him away from everyone and thrived on his lack of connections, while Jon’s demanded connection in the worst possible way. Neither of them fought against it, but at least Martin had a plan.

So really, who was Jon to tell Martin he was in the wrong? He berated him for casting his lot in with Peter Lukas and the Lonely, then pulled live statements from very unwilling subjects. At least Martin wasn’t hurting anyone.

The man I knew

I don't think that he can hear me now

So dizzy with the altitude

It's just too far

He tried to See Martin the next day. At first, all the Eye would show him was fog. “No, show me Martin.”

He doesn’t want to be found.

“I don’t care.”

There was a swell of static, and the fog thinned a little. Everything was blurry, like Jon was looking through an unfocused camera lense. Jon bit his lip and tried to force the image into something more defined. A sudden pain shot through his head, and he almost lost concentration, but the picture sharpened and the fog began to clear away. Martin was sitting at a desk, typing into a computer. Filling out a spreadsheet , the Eye told Jon.

Martin glanced up, and it was probably a coincidence, but he stared directly at Jon’s vantage point, as though seeing right through him. His eyes were grayer than ever, and there was a new hollowness to them. The office, Jon registered for the first time, really was filled with fog. Fog that seemed to be emanating from Martin.

Martin’s mouth moved, and no sound came out, but Jon could read the words on his lips. Go away.

Could Martin feel him Watching? Or did he think there was someone standing in the fog?

Jon didn’t have time to dwell on it, as just then his head throbbed with another burst of pain, this one so strong he lost focus immediately and stars exploded throughout his vision. Martin really didn’t want to be found.

Jon staggered, collapsed onto the couch behind him in the break room, and was unconscious before his head hit the cushion.

Last night you came to kiss me in a dream and when I woke

What kind of foolishness is this

Breathed out a lungful of your smoke

He dreamed about Martin this time, a welcome relief from his usual rounds of watching the nightmares of statement givers. When he woke up, he couldn’t quite remember what the dream had been about, but he opened his eyes expecting to see Martin standing there.

He wasn’t.

Jon sighed and sat up. How long had it been?

Four hours.

He had been passed out for four hours? Selfishly, he was annoyed that apparently no one had tried to wake him or checked in on him.

God, Jon missed Martin. Martin would probably have at least noticed he was gone.

What exactly had he dreamed about?

There was a sudden tightness in his chest, and when he exhaled sharply, fog came out of his mouth. Gray, damp, clinging sea fog. The same kind that always seemed to hang around Martin these days.

And with the fog came a whisper too faint to quite make out, but Jon caught the words “so alone” and “loved”.

I've seen you at your brightest

What a mind, let it burn

Who am I to pull you down to Earth?

Jon watched the fog fade, then got to his feet and left the break room. Martin had a plan, and it was clear that all Jon had accomplished was getting in his way. He needed to let this go.

He tried once more to See Martin, and this time got only fog, no matter how hard he tried.

Yeah, who am I to tell you to come down?

[wonderduorising]

Bakudeku Fic Recs

Wonder Duo: Rising has reached 500 followers on twitter! To celebrate, we decided to come together and create a list of Bakudeku fic recommendations. All fanfics on this list are SFW, are within the range of 300 kudos or less, and were recommended by one or more of the anthology’s contributors!

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Fic: stones at the starlight by Shousanki

Length: 2.9k

Summary: Katsuki and Izuku struggle to survive in an adult world not kind to (not-quite) childhood sweethearts as they search for the small and good things amidst petty indignities.

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Fic: to the moon and back by Rejectimate

Length: 1.4k

Summary: Training camp has nothing on Katsuki's strict sleep schedule. But Deku's embarrassing ass sure does.

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Fic: don’t misunderstand by Kokushibo

Length: 1k

Summary: three times that kacchan addresses him. one time that he does it differently.

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Fic: Twin Stars Week ficlets by Hollyandvice (series)

Length: Varies

Summary: A collection of Bakudeku ficlets for Twin Stars Week.

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Fic: CORDIPUGUS by Greatcloudninja

Length: 3.2k

Summary: Katsuki Bakugou, a slave-turned-gladiator, has one more fight to win to earn his freedom. His goal? To be able to marry his beloved Izuku Midoriya, noble son of Senator Toshinori Yagi. But first, he has to get through his toughest battle yet.

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Fic: when the saints by Flapkack

Length: 2.5k

Summary: In Bakugou Katsuki’s humble fucking opinion, parade blocks were one of the most effective forms of torture. Telling someone to walk straight forward, eyes ahead, shoulders square, rolling their feet, playing the exact same damn cadences over and over and over again was already bad enough. But then, toss in a string of other people to keep in line, bad marchers and freshmen, to make matters even worse.

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Fic: Small Town Change by CommanderSipShady

Length: 12.2k

Summary: They say nothing ever happens in this sleepy town, but that night everything changed for the better. 40 year old BakuDeku real world AU. 

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Fic: At the Mountain’s Edge by Anzul

Length: 30k (multi-chap, WIP)

Summary: Muromachi Japan, 1465. Soulmates - once nothing but a flightful fancy among the Heian nobility - have become the political currency of the century. Blessed with telepathic communication and the ability to sense each other regardless of their geographical distance once a bond has been established, they are an invaluable commodity to any warrior hoping to amass power in the wake of the Ashikaga's weakening rule.

Bakugou Katsuki is no exception. But no matter what matchmaking house his family visits, they all tell him the same thing: that at the end of his red string, there waits no one. Katsuki is destined to walk his path alone.

Now forced to become a candidate for political marriage, Katsuki must learn the traditional arts and proper courtship etiquette to attract more suitors. Izuku, the adopted protégé and matchmaking master of the Midoriya House, is hired to be his tutor. Izuku himself is not only without a soulmate, but Bondless - someone without a red string at all, but capable of seeing everyone else's.

[Or: An alternate soulmate x historical AU where everybody has soulmates except Katsuki and Izuku.]

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Fic: all the savage soul requires by Majjale

Length: 50k (multi-chap, WIP)

Summary: Bakugou seems to have exhausted his patience for words and no longer acknowledges that Midoriya exists, so Midoriya crosses his legs, stares down at his hands limned in firelight, and makes a list of things he knows.

One. His name is Midoriya Izuku.

Two. He is a Godmarked, future god of life, heir to the divine throne.

Three. The gods have been fighting Death for eons, and now he's coming for recompense with everything he’s got.

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Fic: to measure a year by Shousanki

Length: 4.7k (multi-chap, complete)

Summary: The dance of two leaves around each other. Collection of Katsuki/Izuku drabbles, originally written between the winter of 2017 and summer of 2018.

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Fic: we run in antiparallel by Kokushibo

Length: 1.1k

Summary: there are different ways in which a boy can be saved.

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Fic: this is not a night for tragedy by Keigeyama

Length: .6k

Summary: Katsuki looks at him, forehead creasing, his expression somehow at once angry and soft—then he smiles, simpering. “Well, aren’t you just the best”.

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Fic: once more, with feeling by OneshotPrincess

Length: .8k

Summary: He’s not Yamikumo, Katsuki tells himself fiercely. He’s not Yamikumo, he thinks as he watches him play in the grass with a kite with Kouta and Eri. He’s just fucking Deku.

So why does he still make Katsuki feel this way?

*

Fic: of all kinds by Coldbones

Length: 4.3k

Summary: A story is never just a story, and a dragon can never change its scales.

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Fic: I Don’t Have Any Roses But I Have A Rabbit? by Teaandtumblr

Length: 3.3k

Summary: Midoriya has just stepped into the world of rabbit showing only to run into his childhood friend...who is apparently also into the same thing. Lucky his rabbit is so cute!

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Fic: Starshine by Blueslove

Length: 1.3k

Summary: Deku’s eyes always light up when he talks about that book.

It’s as if his being lives to praise the pages, like his lips don’t know how to form any other words. He speaks of the characters like they’re friends, the story as if he’d lived it himself, and the place like he’d seen it with his own eyes.

Katsuki can’t stand it.

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Fic: another old space odyssey by Sorethroat

Length: 2k

Summary: “Car-di-o-meg..aly,” Deku fumbles around the words. “I can’t see the moon with you.”

He stands there, Deku smiling tight like if he moves his tears will spill over, and they’re too young to laugh at the idea that the insurmountable obstacle in front of them is a heart that’s just too big.

Bakugou is an astronaut but he's forgotten why. Midoriya wants him to come home.

*

Fic: Butterfly Wishes by Sushirapper

Length: 4.2k

Summary: Deep in the middle of a forest out back of a little town in the country, there lay a wishing well.

It was not particularly pretty, nor particularly deep. It was not even that magical. But it was, at the very least, old—and all folk knew that with time came the strangest of truths, best left unbelieved or unseen altogether.

Izuku was one of these truths.

Or, Izuku can grant wishes, Katsuki is a mortal who doesn't know any better, and even the most innocent things always come with a price.

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Fic: Beyond the Veil by Seeress

Length: 11.9k (multichap, complete)

Summary: A locked door. A ghostly presence. A long forgotten name.

Katsuki goes back to his grandparent's old house and finds a presence he barely remembers, still waiting for him.

His grandmother’s stories all had the same cautionary theme: Do not stray off the path. Keep your hands to yourself. Be polite to those you meet. Be wary of undeserved generosity. Do not be deceived by masks. Remember your way home.

But Katsuki was a child of skyscrapers and 24 hour convenience stores. He walked on streets lined with man-made lights that turned on before the sun goes down the horizon and never went out until the sun rises again. He lived in a house full of noise, in a city full of living, breathing people.

He had never known true darkness; nights when even the moon sheds no light and the world is silent, but you know deep within your bones that you are not alone.

*

Fic: Nowhere I’d Rather Be by Dat_heichou

Length: 1.8k

Summary: It’s 3 a.m. on the coldest sunday of the year and Izuku is too excited to feel tired. It’s release day of the newest All Might figure and he made sure he woke up early enough to buy one.

It’s freezing and dark and Izuku is sore from the rigorous training that U.A. third years go through, but he still excitedly shifts from one foot to the other. There’s nowhere he’d rather be.

“It’s cold as fuck out here,” Katsuki gripes beside him, burrowing his nose deeper into the collar of his thick, thermal lined jacket.

*

Fic: solar by Kindaopps

Length: 7k

Summary: Here he is, a god, wanting a mortal.

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Fic: Sunlight Moving by Peredhils

Length: 3.8k

Summary: The night air was cool but not as damp and depressing as it had been when leaving England. The sea breeze was refreshing and it was crisper than it smelled standing from the shore. Although the rocking of the boat made him a bit nauseous, coupled with the unease that came with being unable to see any land on the horizon, Katsuki liked it more than he thought he would. Standing at the ledge and looking up at the stars, all so bright and clear, was easing the day’s troubles.

He wasn’t alone for long.

Katsuki, a duke organizing the creation of a new university in England, meets astronomer Izuku on board a voyage overseas.

*

Fic: let me hurt you, until we don’t by DeKatsu

Length: 3.3k

Summary: Deku decides that using his quirk with his hero license suspended is a smart idea. Katsuki doesn't understand why he's thrown into the holding cell as Deku's accomplice.

And then they talk about feelings.

Which isn't even the weirdest shit, considering that their cell mates end up giving them the push they need.

*

Fic: last days of war by antisora

Length: 38k (multi-chap, WIP)

Summary: When the first Kaiju climbed through the portal to their world, Izuku and Katsuki were six years old. And from the tender age of six, they knew they were going to be rangers.

All Izuku wanted, all he ever wanted, was to save the world alongside his best friend.

[tessiete]

So, my mum sent me a prompt, and I...I wrote it. Still working on those in my inbox, but mum’s come first, ya know?

She picked Spotify #12 (Love You Back, by Metric), and she wanted Luke and Qui-Gon bonding. I tried, mum, but Korkie just shows up all the time.

Love, your daughter.

LIFT UP, AND FALL AWAY

Luke travels to Dantooine by himself.

It’s been weeks since Bespin, weeks since he’d been released from medical supervision aboard the Dreamless Sleep and weeks since he’d left all its well-meaning but overbearing clinicians behind. He knows he should go back to Yoda, or hunt for the bounty hunter who took Han, or help Leia rally the scattered rebel forces back into order, but instead, he makes his escape.

There is little enough to recommend the planet. It is an outer rim world with no industry or economy to speak of. There are no cities, or monuments, the largest settlements boasting hardly more than a few thousand people and recent rumours suggest a small but growing number of them may be Imperial sympathisers which doesn’t bode well for him: The Miracle of Yavin; The First Hope of the Alliance. He can’t imagine anything like that will be met with particular enthusiasm here. 

But even beyond political allegiances, it is a distinctly unappealing place being both unremarkable and largely unremarked. It is off of any useful trade route. It has few interplanetary allies, and only one weak judicial body to govern the entirety of its surface. In fact, the best thing Luke can think to say of it is that it is nearly as far away from Tatooine as it is possible for anything to be.

And far from Dagobah, too.

He brings his X-Wing down in the middle of a grassy plain, and leaves Artoo to run diagnostics on the ship. It’s his second (since he’d abandoned the first in Cloud City), and so lacking in all the alterations he’d so carefully programmed and calibrated into his previous fighter. He’s trying not to think of it as a nuisance, but an opportunity. A second chance. A second ship. A second hand - he smirks at this, and adjusts the blaster at his hip. He needs a second blade.

But there is something else that he must do first.

The sun is high as he sets off, only a small ration pack slung across his chest, and the blaster with him. Artoo’s whistling complaints grow fainter as he goes, until they are drowned completely beneath the whispers of swaying grasses. They are all turned brown. It is late in the year, and so they are filled with the gossip of an entire season. They brush against his legs, eager to touch this visitor and pass on rumours of his presence to their brethren, the trees, whose voices are heard in the rustle of leaves, then carried off on the wind in birdsong. 

In the distance, he sees a herd of grazing iriaz, but they move off long before he is close enough to comprehend them as anything more than silent shadows, silhouetted against the sky. They leave prints - wide tracks scratched into dusty earth, and little pools where they have kicked up some water to sustain them. Common havoc kites circle lazily overhead, riding the updrafts on stiff, unyielding wings. They too, take no interest in Luke, and soon disappear in search of prey. The drone of some insect rises and falls and vanishes, its source remaining unseen. It seems to Luke that all of Dantooine is of a beautiful, but uncurious nature, content to live and let live without extending either welcome or censure to those who cross its lands.

It is in this manner, unencumbered by anything but the weight of his thoughts, that Luke finds himself only a few hours later passing beneath the boughs of ancient blba trees to arrive on the doorstep of a tidy stone cottage in the middle of the Khoonda plains. The base is a round structure, supporting another smaller yet equally round structure on top, like buckets of sand packed tight and upturned upon each other. Where they meet, there is a ring of wood slats, angled steeply downward as shingles to protect from run off, the door an old fashioned vertical slide that folds over itself as it springs from the floor to hide away in the crossbeam above. He knocks, and when a man with blue eyes, and gold hair threaded silver answers, Luke knows why Ben’s ghost has asked him to come.

“I’m looking for Kryze,” he says. 

“That’s me,” the man replies, his brow furrowed. He keeps one hand on the door, and the other braced against the wall within to lend him strength should he need it, but there is no fear in his voice, despite the blaster he’s clearly noted. 

“I’ve been sent to find you,” Luke says, and Kryze sighs.

“Well,” he says, shoulders sagging, and his body shifting to grant Luke admittance. “You’d better come inside.”

The space is warm, the amber light of the afternoon filtering through rippled glass windows to dance over cluttered walls, and overfull shelves. There are plants, bursting from their pots like Tusken black powder on fire. Paintings cover every inch of the wall not taken up with windows or furniture, and canvases lie stacked atop one another in various crevices and corners where space has run out. Books - proper old volumes printed on flimsi, and in some cases actual paper, stand front to back to front in orderly lines high in their cramped cases, regimented troops of education and exploration. Lower down are curiously bent sticks, twisted knots of dry grass, beetle wings, the shed scales of a rosy drayk, leaves of various size and colour, and a small river stone, smooth and black and streaked with red. 

“Various treasures,” Kryze explains, as Luke is lost in his perusal. “You can touch them, if you like. Shall I put a kettle on?”

He wipes his hands upon an old rag, leaving streaks of blue and green, tossing it down beside a murky pitcher of water, and several brushes, and it is then that Luke realises he has caught him in the middle of something personal and profound.

“I don’t mean to bother you,” he says. “If you’re busy, I can wait. Or come back. Or -”

“Nonsense,” says Kryze, smiling. The expression is familiar, and Luke smiles back, feeling some common thread strum between them. “I ought to start on lastmeal anyway. We’re having muja dai-ungo for pudding. A favourite, you see, and yet I am the sole chef in this endeavour, since the other beasts which live here are prone to eating the jelly and leaving none for the glaze.”

It is some joke which Luke is not entirely certain of, so he smiles politely but doesn’t laugh as Kryze draws him into the cramped cookroom at the side. Water is set to boil on an ancient hot top, and Kryze sweeps aside a variety of holopads and half-finished string weaves to make space on the countertop. He pulls down two ceramplast cups, chipped and cracked, and smirks ruefully at his guest.

“A hazard of my unfortunate circumstances, you see. They say no plan survives contact with the enemy, and I take it to mean nothing at all survives contact with children. Everything here is somewhat the worse for wear, I’m afraid.” But there is nothing except long-suffering amusement in his voice, as though his pretensions of civility are an easy and happy price to pay for the benefit of such injury.

A shriek, followed by a chorus of laughter tumbles in from outside, and Kryze opens the window for a better view. Luke, overly alert to danger and almost surprised by joy, cannot help but duck his head to look, too.

A woman in long skirts races across the yard, followed by a girl brandishing a stick who looks only a few years younger than Luke, though she feels lightyears away. 

“Wait!” calls another voice, high and pleading. As the first two cavort out of sight, a third girl appears, only to stop at the call, and turn back as the fourth, and final member of the party staggers into view. A boy, no older than seven or so, sets himself down upon the ground, crossing his arms in displeasure as the girl walks back to soothe him. “They run too fast,” Luke hears him lament. “And I have lost the poesy you made me.”

Kryze lets out a breath of laughter, assured there is no danger except perhaps to his son’s vanity, and returns to his pot, measuring out leaves and water with equal care. Luke watches the girl give her brother a hug, and coax him off in pursuit of the others.

“My eldest, Jinn,” Kryze explains. “She’s a wild thing, like her mother. And Mav, too, but with a softer heart. Corim is the youngest, and most civilised of the bunch. Thank the stars, or I’m afraid I’d be terribly overrun out here. Do you take anything in your tea?”

“Um, no,” Luke says, thinking of the heavy spices of Tatooine brews. 

But the drink placed before him is a thin and watery kind of thing, of a pale pink colour. He can see the ceramplast through the liquid, and raises it to his lips skeptically.

Kryze watches him with that same kind amusement he seems to regard everything.

“It is a local variety of my own invention,” he explains. “Made from dried diabolix berries. Just the dried ones, mind you. The ones off the bush are deadly.”

Luke freezes, the rim of the cup pressed to his lips, the mild sweetness of sun still on his tongue, and Kryze laughs. He’s come here for a purpose, but has instead found himself trapped with a kind of domesticated eccentric.

He sets his tea down as politely as he can, while Kryze doesn’t hesitate to drink deeply from his own cup.

“I don’t want to be rude,” he says. “But I actually came here to deliver a message. From Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

At this, Kryze finally stills, his eyes meeting Luke’s with an apprehensive solemnity. “Of course,” he says. “What news?”

“He’s dead.”

The cup settles upon its saucer with only a faint chime of protest.

“Ah,” says Kryze.

In the following silence, guilt sweeps in, and soon Luke finds himself scrambling for the frayed edges of comfort and sympathy.

“It was fast,” he says. “And he knew what he was doing. He saved my life, and my friends. Vader - do you know anything that’s going on in the galaxy right now?”

That quiet, aching smirk curls upwards once more. 

“Of course,” says Kryze. “Why else would I be way out here?”

“I’m sorry,” Luke says.

Kryze stands to clear the table of their tea. 

“You say you’ve left your ship a few hours west? It is much too late for you to return to it now. Stay. Eat with us. Have a good night’s rest. Tomorrow, I should like to show you something.”

It is impossible for Luke to refuse this hospitality, not after he’s made such a mess of his own reason for coming here. He owes Kryze this much, at least.

“Of course,” he says. “If it isn’t any problem.”

“No problem at all,” Kryze insists. “There is an orchard down the path. If you follow the screams and laughter you should find it all right. The girls will collect you in time for latemeal.”

Thus dismissed, Luke removes his pack, but keeps his blaster close, heading for the door. At the threshold, he is overcome by a need to know for certain, and he turns back for one last look at the mysterious Kryze.

“Can I just ask,” he begins. “How did you know him? Obi-Wan, I mean. Why did he send me here to talk to you?”

His back to the door, Luke almost misses the reply carried back on the ghost of laughter.

“Oh, that,” says Kryze. “Well, after all, I am his son.”

 The sun of Dantooine is much too reserved to intrude, and so it is to the clatter of dishware, and eager voices that Luke wakes the next morning. He stretches, and moves from his room to the sonics across the hall he thinks without attracting notice, but he is met, upon his exit, with the startled aspect of the youngest Kryze listening at the door.

Corim’s jaw snaps shut, and he frowns before declaring quite firmly that, “I wasn’t spying. I was only checking to see if you hadn’t died in the night you slept in so late.”

Luke grins. “Not dead yet, I don’t think.”

“Well, if you don’t hurry, there shan’t be any flatcakes left, no matter what Bebu says.”

“I’ll be there in a sec,” Luke assures him, and he stalks away entirely unconvinced.

Despite this threat, the table in the main room is still heaped with food when Luke emerges, fresher and more relaxed than he’s been in ages. The Kryzes are already packed tight around the table, but Mav and Jinn happily bunch over to make room for Luke between them. Mav, especially, goes out of her way to fill his glass, and pile his plate with the last of the muja preserves left over from the night before.

“Hey, that was my share,” complains Jinn, her mouth full. “You’ve already had seconds today.”

Mav blushes, and ducks her head, but her retort is vehement for all that her embarrassment is public. “We have a guest,” she says. “And your face is so full of cake you wouldn’t even taste the jelly anyway!”

“I didn’t get seconds!” Corim chimes in.

“Mother!” Jinn demands, taking her appeal to a higher court.

“Jinn, relax,” says Wyla, supremely unbothered, sipping her kaf and reading off her holopad. “Mav, be nice. Corim, I have a treat for you later.”

“S’not fair,” Jinn grumbles into her plate, but Wyla reaches over to pat her hand sympathetically.

“If you’re looking for the worst villain to blame, then examine your father’s plate. He’s more than enough jelly on that cake to last us to next harvest.”

At this, Kryze looks up to shoot his daughter a smug grin, before shoveling a heavily laden portion of flatcake into his mouth. Jelly, piled too high to survive the journey, tumbles from his fork to splatter against the flat of his plate as emphasis of his unjust indulgence.

“Delicious,” he declares. Jinn rolls her eyes, while Luke smuggles in a bite of his own portion.

It is tasty, both sweet and tart and satisfyingly thick. The meal continues through several more hotly negotiated contracts, and concludes with Wyla and Mav packing up the old speeder with the spoils of their orchard, and Jinn agreeing to mind Corim, much to her delight and his wary dismay. Kryze, it is announced, has business to attend to with Luke, and he does not expect their return before nightfall. 

“Bring your rucksack,” he says, as they prepare to leave. “It is a long walk, and I shall want for snacks on the way.”

They set off with the sun on their faces, passing once more beneath the blba trees, the little cottage growing more and more distant as they make their way forth on the plains. Luke trusts that Kryze has some set destination in mind, but after the first hour he privately wonders if his guide has been distracted, and has brought them to wander in admiration of the land.

“That there is an extremely rare simbyloona butterfly,” he says, gesturing with a long wooden staff at the erratic path of the insect. “You ever been to Konkiv? Or Sriluur?”

“No,” says Luke.

“They have butterflies there,” explains Kryze. “What about Endor’s forest moon?”

“Never heard of it.”

“Well, if you ever go, keep an eye out,” he says, pushing on. 

The world seems much more alive with Kryze today. Longhoppers leap from the grass as he wades through, warbling tiktiks swoop over head to catch them. One of unique boldness lands upon the top of Kryze’s staff when he stops to show Luke the little dirt mounds of puppi mice beneath their feet. He smiles, and extends a finger to the bird which cocks its head from side to side before giving in to temptation and hopping upon Kryze’s outstretched hand.

“Hello, there,” he sings, soft and low. “Aren’t you a brave thing?”

He holds the bird forth so that Luke may have a closer look at the colourful plumage before lifting it higher to the sky to release it.

“Off you go, then,” he says. “Beautiful animal, isn’t it? Usually quite shy though. You must bring good luck.”

Luke watches the course of the bird, and hardly knows he’s replied until he’s already said, “Your father said there was no such thing.”

“Did he?” Kryze beams. “Well, he always had such odd notions.”

“Unlike you?” Luke asks. It’s not that he’s insulted by the man’s amusement at a dead man, but it does seem somewhat hypocritical in light of the bird, and the paintings, and the tea.

But Kryze takes no offense, only quirking an eyebrow to say, “Where do you think I got it from?”

For all his evident curiosity this challenge seems to be exactly the sort of query Kryze was waiting for, and he begins to tell Luke all manner of things about himself as they move ever on towards the horizon.

“My mother was the Duchess of Mandalore,” he says. “A pacifist, though you’d never know it by the way the galaxy remembers us. And for a year she was under the protection of my father. They fell in love, as tragically and impossibly as any young person could wish, and when they parted my father left confident in his ignorance, and my mother was left with me. It’s difficult to say who came out ahead in that.”

“I thought the Jedi couldn’t love,” says Luke.

“And whoever told you that nonsense?” asks Kryze. “You told me my father died saving you, and he cannot have done that for anything less than the purest love.”

Luke says nothing to this, only twists a knot of grass off in his hand and releases it to the wind. They walk in strained silence until it becomes comfortable again, and Luke exhales in resignation.

“I only just met my father,” he says. “He tried to kill me.”

Kryze looks at him, then stops to look at him harder. 

“Oh, I see it now,” he says. “You’re a Skywalker. I might have guessed it, but I’m afraid I’m rather out of practice these days.”

“Are you a Jedi, too?”

“No, no,” he scoffs. “Nothing so serious as all that. But I know enough to be able to tell the blaze of a Skywalker from the general inferno of starfire. I know enough to be recognised in turn.”

“Is that why you’re out here? Hiding from the Empire?”

Kryze grimaces at this, and turns back to the path ahead. A shadow looms, rising out of the ground, and he turns their course to that.

“What makes you think I’m hiding?” he asks. Then, before Luke can parse the riddle in this, he continues. “I used to be in the Alliance,” he says. “Wyla, too. We ran intelligence rings, and sabotage missions. We fought. Even had more than a few close calls with the Empire. But at some point, around the time that Wyla found out about Jinn, we decided that was it. We’d done our part. And when the Rebellion left their base here, we stayed behind.”

“The Empire still exists,” says Luke. 

“And it will not be my hand which stops it,” counters Kryze. Then, as the shadow takes the form of a ruined temple sprung from the earth itself, he speaks again. “My parents both died for peace. I think that I owe it to them to live for it. Here we go.”

Vines cling to ancient stone, while tangles of brush climb up and over crumbled walls and gaping cracks in the side of the old building. The trees grow thickly here, still green and lush despite the lateness of the year.

“A wellspring,” explains Kryze, without Luke’s having to ask. 

He guides him past hollowed out chambers pierced only by shafts of dazzling sunlight breaking through fractured ceilings, and bouncing off shallow, invisible puddles within. Animals chirrup in the brush, and birds nest in all the little nooks and crannies of decaying architecture. Though it is long abandoned, there is still something light and sacred about the space. The air is fresher here.

“This is a Jedi place,” breathes Luke.

“It was,” agrees Kryze. “Long before the Empire. Come along. There’s something else.”

Beneath a fall of greenery and fallen rocks lies an opening. 

“What is it?” asks Luke.

“Caves,” says Kryze. Luke looks at him, still uncertain. “I have noticed that you carry no lightsaber,” he explains.

Luke flexes the fingers of his false hand, feeling the pistons and levers firing in time with his desire, but different from the muscles and sinew of his flesh. It cannot be observed by casual inspection, but somehow Kryze seems to know.

“I lost it,” says Luke. 

“Then you shall have to build another.” He gestures again to the cave mouth, and Luke braces himself to go in. He shifts the blaster on his hip, checking the settings. “You won’t need that in there,” says Kyze. “There’s nothing inside but old ghosts.”

He is halfway to moving when he hesitates, and leans back. With his eyes fixed on Kryze’s, Luke unstraps the holster from his side, and hands it and his blaster into the hands of Ben Kenobi’s son. He goes into the caves alone.

It is dark inside, and there is a chill and the sound of water dripping into water somewhere far away. Luke steps carefully. Though the ground is rocky and uneven, his steps are certain and he does not falter. After several minutes of silent exploration, with no strange whispers or startling movement, the fear he entered with begins to fall away, leaving Luke’s mind open to the growing threat of boredom. There is nothing here. He sighs, and turns to leave only to discover the way out has grown just as dark as the path going farther in. He has no torch, no light, and no sabre to guide his path, but his irritation blazes bright enough to guide him and he sets off the way he came. 

When he has walked more than twice the distance he came, and then gone back to walk the distance again, he decides there is little he can do but sit and hope that Kryze will come for him. Surely, he hasn’t brought him here to starve after feeding him so thoroughly only hours ago. And for all that Luke feels helpless in the inky pits of the caves, Kryze had not lied when he said his blaster would be of no use. There is no one here but Luke.

He sets himself down against a stone, the seat of his pants made uncomfortably damp by the floor, and quite to his own surprise, drifts off.

When he wakes, there is light.

All around him are outcroppings of crystals in various shapes and colours. Some shine more brightly than the others, and some glow so fervently it is as though they sing. He reaches out to touch one, and the rest all clamour in harmony to meet him. 

Every thought of escape is eclipsed by the beauty in the caves, and Luke trails his fingers over each crystal that calls out, following their voices deeper and deeper into the caves. Until, in the deepest chamber, on the shores of a vast underground lake, he is met by something which glows brighter than all the crystals combined.

For a moment, he is compelled to shield his eyes, as the flare bursts forth in effulgent magnificence before dying down to live within the confines of an unrecognisable form.

It is a man with long hair, a kind smile, and wearing the robes of a Jedi.

“Hello, little one,” it calls out, and Luke raises his hand in reply. “I was wondering when I might have the chance to meet you.”

“Do I know you?” asks Luke, stepping closer. 

The ghost chuckles. “Not as such,” he replies. “But I know you. You are the student of my student, after all. I am Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“You were Master Obi-Wan’s master!” 

“And Master Yoda’s, too,” brags the ghost, enjoying the awe of Luke’s epiphany, but this is a boast too far, and Luke’s face falls into lines of skepticism.

“That can’t be true,” he says. “Master Yoda is much too old to have been taught by you.”

“Ah, and must education end with the cessation of breath? Cannot knowledge outlast us? Cannot learning outlive us?”

“Can it?” asks Luke.

“We are more than what we do in life, my boy,” says Qui-Gon. He sits upon one of the larger stones which border the edge of the lake, leaving space beside him for Luke. “And there is much to be learned by death, for those brave enough to seek it.”

Luke frowns, and moves to join him, trying to puzzle out the ghost’s philosophy. 

“Are you suggesting -” he looks to the Jedi for confirmation, not convinced of his conclusion. “You’re not saying that we should just give in, are you? That we should just accept death when we could stop it?”

“Not at all,” says Qui-Gon, and Luke relaxes upon the stone. “It’s good that you fight. It’s important you fight. Don’t rush to death in the vain hope that it will bring you easy satisfaction. Life and death - they are balanced. They are equal. And there is much value to be found in both.”

“Is that why Ben let go?” Luke asks. 

“Obi-Wan was wise to concede his life,” says Qui-Gon. “But that does not make his loss any more bearable for you. Or for me. And though I am glad to be with him once again, I will always wish he’d had more time with you.”

There is a smear of clay grown dry upon his knee, and he brushes it off with one hand.

“Me, too,” he says to the ghost.

“But that is Obi-Wan’s lesson for you,” says Qui-Gon, his voice ringing clear across the lake. “He knows what it means to let go, but I -” he says. “I am here to show you how to hold on.”

And in the crystalline light of the caves, and the glittering warmth of the ghost, Luke learns of his lineage, and his family, and all the ways in which he is never alone. Qui-Gon speaks of the past. He tells him of a little boy who struggled and overcame, and a little boy who struggled and fell, and how neither of them loved the other any less. He tells the story of an ancient Order, and a girl queen; of a duchess, and a knight; of children lost to their parents, and parents lost to themselves. He tells of blood, and consequences, and desire, and regret, and joy, and sorrow, and how it all lives on in memory, and in stories, and in relics, and in paintings, and in river stones, and in muja dai-ungo, and in him.

“There is nothing lost,” says Qui-Gon. “So long as you choose to remember it. Neither life, nor love, nor people. Hold on. And don’t let go.”

And as he fades away into darkness, the song of a single crystal cries out, drawing Luke up, and up, and out of the black of the caves into the evening sun.

At the mouth of the hollow, standing with the light in his hair, and Ben Kenobi in his eyes, stands Kiorkicek Kryze. In his hands, a sabre, the kyber inside calling out.

And when Luke touches the hilt, he knows that this one is his.

“I thought it might be you,” says Kryze, smiling. He shifts Luke’s bag high against his shoulder and turns to the setting sun. “Come on,” he says. “They’ll be waiting for us.”

And when he finally returns to his ship, and Artoo, and programmes a course for home, Luke leaves Dantooine by himself, but he is not alone.

[infinites-chaser]

to dwell on | mlqc | lucien/mc | bittersweet fluff

happy birthday to one (1) angsty man~

spoiler warning for lucien’s new CN birthday date and a few random details from lucien’s past!

on homes lost and found.

MC, Lucien, and coming home.

He’d shown her the house of his childhood once, brought her to the empty lot where it used to stand and built its walls back up around them out of the wood and brick of his quiet, thoughtful descriptions, and they’d lived there for a day in the bittersweet warmth of his memories.

His words had been quiet, wistful, spoken as if he’d recited them to himself many times before— an incantation, a memento, an old photo folded and refolded and folded again, each wrinkle, carefully smoothed, a mark of care, of love. Of longing for a time past made present only by the photo in his mind, not yet faded, not yet aged grey.

He’d shared his wish with her, with his parents, their love, though faded, still warm and ever-present, technicolor bright.

In return, she’d given him his present, her wish, her promise.

You don’t always have to be happy, but I wish that you’d think of me first every time you feel unhappy. Let me be with you.

(There had been only sixty slots on the box she gave him, each one for him to open on days he felt sad, to remind him of her, to cheer him up, but she meant to spend every moment with him, happy or sad, three-hundred-sixty-five or more.)

He’d called her the moment they’d both stepped through their adjacent doorways, the hint of a chuckle in his tone.

“I’ve opened the first slot.”

“Lucien!” She’d chided with an answering laugh. “You’re supposed to be saving them for when you’re actually sad!”

Quiet. Then,

“But I do feel sad. Or, rather, I feel as if… I need you to complete this moment, too.”

“Come to the balcony with me?”

She’d followed his voice outside, where he’d been leaning against their shared railing, phone in hand, backlit by the fading gold of the sky.

“In the darkness of the night, we often pass by others’ lives,” he’d quoted, eyes never leaving hers. “Not what typically comes to mind when one thinks of cheering another up, is it?”

She’d laughed again, lowering the phone from her ear and joining him at the edge of the balcony on her side.

“Since when were you ever typical?”

As the last rays of sun had slipped below the horizon she’d finished the quote for him.

“But, thankfully, I didn’t pass by yours.”

He’d reached across the space between them, taken her hand in his, held it tight.

“Are you happier now?” She’d asked. Are you happy now?

His smile had been answer enough.

One autumn night they’d spent dreaming awake: she’d asked him to describe his ideal life, and he’d told her any life shared with her.

“That’s not specific,” she’d complained. “That could be anything. Tell me more.”

His smile had faded, replaced by a thoughtful frown.

“I don’t know, not really,” he’d finally replied. “Maybe a life where I feel at home.”

She’d remembered his birthday. The empty lot. His childhood house, kept standing only by his words, his distant memories.

She’d thought of wishes made with open eyes, of facing the future head-on, of taking their shared story and writing their own ending.

“Maybe we can find it together,” she’d said.

“I’d like that,” he’d replied, and he’d pressed a kiss to the ring on her hand.

They’d bought the house together over a year ago. After a month of fruitless searching, one wrong turn on the walk back home had brought them to the entrance of a quiet neighborhood atop a gentle hill, an ‘Open House’ sign’s arrow beckoning them further in, urging them to explore, to stay a while.

She’d only needed to share a look with him, the question in her bright eyes answered by his responding smile, before they’d followed the sign, all thoughts of returning to the apartment fading in the neighborhood street lights’ warm, welcoming glow.

It’d been like a moment out of a movie, more than coincidence, something fated, something true: they’d ended up in front of a small, cozy house, just hidden beneath the shade of a nearby camphor tree, the smell of gardenias wafting through the air.

Home, her heart had whispered. His hand sought hers in the milky twilight, and she’d known his heart’s thoughts echoed hers.

On the day they move in, it’s raining.

The drive is a comfortable, quiet one, half her boxes and half of his packed neatly in the trunk of his car, the rest in boxes waiting at their apartment for a later trip. She traces the path of raindrops down the window, and at intersections, before the light moves from red to green, he points out shapes in the clouds— here, a bunny, there, an open book, above the LFG building, an angry frown.

She laughs at the last one, rests her hand atop his on the stick shift, where it’s trembling, just the slightest.

(He’d told her once, he’d liked car rides, as a child. Being strapped into the backseat, his parents in front, it’d felt like an adventure.

Then, the rainy night. The screech of brakes, ringing in his ears, then silence. Bright ambulance lights, flashing red and blue in time to his ragged breathing.

He did his best to only ever walk places, after.)

“Have you ever heard the story about the bunny who opened a magic book and a frown named CEO Li came out?”

He exhales, long and quiet, and musters a smile.

“No, I haven’t. But I’m curious, how does that one end?”

The light turns green. They drive on as she does her best to bring the ridiculous story alive. It feels like it could be an adventure. Maybe it is one.

By the time they drive down the now-familiar road winding around the hill, through the neighborhood, the rain’s letting up, and when they’re parked in the driveway of the house that’s now theirs, it’s completely stopped.

As she emerges from the car, sunlight breaks clear through the grey clouds, and she spots the edge of a rainbow, hovering just beyond the hill, arcing up and away, landing somewhere past houses, past office buildings, past bustling roads.

“Lucien,” she says, catching the edge of his sleeve. “Look.”

His breath hitches, making just the tiniest of noises in the back of his throat.

“I’d like to open the last slot,” he replies, without taking his eyes off the sky.

Ever since that birthday, and the first slot he’d opened that very evening, he’d used her gift sparingly, and the sixty slots she’d intended to last him one year had stretched into two, into three, until today.

She stretches on her tiptoes, brushing her lips across the corner of his. Before she can draw back completely, he pulls her in for a kiss of his own, tender, lingering, all warmth and salt and rain.

Their umbrella falls. They’re drenched when the rain returns as a gentle sunshower, but neither of them minds.

They move their belongings into the house, and day by day, it slowly starts to feel closer and closer to what she’d call home.

The projector from her birthday warms their living room with a sepia glow on movie nights. The microscope from his brings just the right amount of character to their nightstand. His books begin to clutter the shelves, accompanied by hers.

Their cameras. The Polaroids that begin to populate the walls. The pressed flower that reminded him of her. The antique chess set that she’d picked up in return.

A collection of their favorite things, mementos, old photographs of their own.

And less tangible, but no less beloved, no less dear:

Her home-cooked meals, and his attempts.

His perfectly-brewed pots of tea.

Her ‘I watered the gardenias this morning, and saw a butterfly. I wish you’d seen, too.’

His ‘Let’s watch the sunset together tonight, after work.’

Her laugh.

His smile.

On a warm autumn day, he keeps his promise. They climb to the top of the hill, one of her more clumsily-knit kites, a butterfly, under his arm, a neater fish-shaped one bundled in her backpack. He tests the wind, sets the butterfly free to dance in the golden sunshine, then offers the string to her to hold while he sends the fish to fly, too, weaving up and through waves of wispy clouds, and the slightest chill breeze, to the butterfly’s side.

“They make an odd couple,” she comments with a laugh, and he glances over at her, the wind ruffling the hair back from his eyes.

“Do they?”

“Not in a bad way, no. Maybe the butterfly saw the fish swimming all alone, and wanted to teach it to fly.”

“Maybe the fish realized he wanted to learn.”

“Did he learn?” She asks, softer. He smiles, soft, gentle, warmer than the golden autumn sun.

“Only because she taught him.”

“She taught him because maybe she was lonely, too.”

He takes her hand, and they don’t need any more words: she kisses him, and his lips taste familiar— all burnt cinnamon and the barest hint of their morning’s maple black tea, muted, mellow, bittersweet, just the way she likes it.

Somewhere in between kisses, she lets go of her kite string. After a stolen breath and a breathless chuckle, he releases his, too, then leans in again, eyes closed.

Their kites fly high together, higher than the clouds, higher than the setting sun. They fly free.

“Let’s go home,” he murmurs against her, a gentle eternity later.

From the balcony, they watch the sunset colors fade together in a comfortable silence.

Night settles in like a dark, star-lit blanket made warm by his head on her shoulder, arms nestled around her, her fingers tightly intertwined with his.

In the distance, fireworks burst to life over the city, bright and beautiful, there, then, gone in a shower of sparks and light.

They’d watched the fireworks together, worlds and lifetimes ago, and after a cold night (his eyes colder than anything else), a broken promise, a warning and lines drawn, him and her on two sides of what was bound to be war, she’d wondered if they had been like fireworks: bright, beautiful, there, then gone.

She’s realized, since. They were never meant to be anything as ephemeral as fireworks. She thinks instead of the lotus pushing its way up from watery roots and through strife and struggle to reach new heights above, something grounded and grown and cultivated, a beauty all their own, a shared understanding, a mutual balance, fought for every inch of the way.

She thinks of the gardenia, now replanted in the sunniest corner of their carefully tended garden, growing bright, beautiful blossoms that returned every year, that bloomed even bigger, even brighter.

She thinks of the camphor tree at the beginning of it all, spreading dark green branches and a boy, sketching not-quite-fantasy in the shadows, childish curiosity already half-faded from his dark eyes, wonders if he still dreamed in color back then, wonders if he’d ever imagined the life he has now.

“Lucien?” She asks now, as the fireworks fade to nothing, and it’s just them, on their shared balcony, under the moon and stars.

“What is it?”

“Is this your ideal life?” She asks, and what she means is, Are you happy? Are you home?

He chuckles softly, pulling her closer.

“You are home enough for me,” he replies, and what he means is, You always were.

.

.

.

When it’s morning, they’ll watch the neighborhood children play in the piles of fallen leaves, then chase each other in a game of football.

Come winter, he’ll wake her up early, and together, wrapped in one of his old jackets, they’ll watch the first flurries of snow, his hands wrapped warm around a steaming mug under hers.

They’ll see the children build snowmen together, and get into snowball fights. They’ll have some of their own, always ending the day watching the bigger flakes drift by the window, It’s a Wonderful Life playing soft on the projector, another kettle of tea ready on the stove.

He’ll joke about the children on Christmas, joke about having some of their own.

She’ll say yes. She’ll mean it. It’ll make him blush for the longest time.

A few months later, the gardenia will bloom, then the rest of their garden will follow. They’ll watch the hill come alive with nature once more, and on windy days, she convinces him to put up pinwheels on the railing and colorful flags on the roof. The children point and laugh and cheer, voices carrying, voices clear. They share a smile, and she waves back for them both, his hands busy resting low on her quietly growing belly.

At night, they take turns reading to each other, and tell each other stories, alternate endings, musings and prequels when the pages aren’t enough to fill their minds.

Summer comes, and at night they watch fireworks or go down to the garden to catch fireflies. On rainy evenings, they read together with the windows open, turning pages to the muted patter of rain on pavement.

When it’s autumn again, their child is born.

“Hold her,” she says with a tired, gentle smile, bright enough to light all the world, even if his world’s narrowed to this room, to him, to her and the bundle of softly sleeping life in her arms.

He blinks. Blinks again. Manages a shaky, tear-filled smile.

(To his eyes, their daughter, like her mother, is in vibrant color.)

[vannahfanfics]

Are MHA headcanons still open by any slim chance? If so, I have one for Mei x Melissa; Mad Scientist!Mei shocks Frankenstein Monster!Melissa with electricity to test her heart's endurance

Glad I saved this request for spooky season! :) An interesting AU proposal you have here, Anon! 

Meilissa Mad Scientist AU Headcanons

If Mei were a mad scientist, she’d definitely personify the role to a T- precarious tower nestled on the edge of a cliffside, where no nosey neighbors can inquire as to her questionable experiments. Melissa is Mei’s ultimate creation, the pinnacle of robotic technology! A robot so close to being human that it’s almost terrifying! Of course, being a robot means that Melissa can surpass the limits of the pesky human body, so Mei cannot resist but test those limits. 

Of the many tests Melissa is subjected to, testing the limits of her clockwork heart— her life source, as it were— is the most vital of tasks. Mei’s ultimate creation cannot have any weaknesses that jeopardize the core of her system! So, Mei rigs up the ultimate test: a massive defibrillator that harnesses the power of lightning! Mei hovers over Melissa as she is strapped to the exam table, golden eyes gleaming behind her lab glasses. Safety first, always. 

Melissa is not the least bit uncomfortable. Mei is her creator and she trusts whole-heartedly in her intelligence. If her limits must be tested in this manner, then it must be done. She hasn’t been in commission long enough to even articulate emotions like fear or anxiety, but she can’t deny that she feels some sort of something as she flexes against the leather straps binding her to the table. 

“M-M-Mei, my mistress... Are you sure this is what is necessary to test the limits of my capabilities?” 

“Of course!” Mei trills as she flies a kite out the window using a metal string, Benjamin Franklin-style.  The thin metal thread connected to the intricate setup that would channel the electricity into Melissa’s body. “A normal human can survive a lightning strike; some, many! The heart I made you won’t stop, no, sir!” 

Mei’s smile shone with confidence. Melissa had to trust in her maker, and she did. She smiles serenely as she relaxes against the metal table, which Mei had been kind enough to drape with a sheet so she didn’t get a chill. 

In the distance, a thunderstorm rumbles, gradually growing closer. Mei flutters ecstatically around the laboratory as the lightning flashes grow brighter and brighter. Melissa is happy (that is the emotion, isn’t it?) to see Mei so excited about the experiment. Then, lightning strikes the kite outside, and crackling electricity streams down the twine into the machine, which spreads it across Melissa’s metallic body. 

Mei’s eyes reflect the white-gold sheen sparking across her creation’s body, rapturous at first. Her smile soon falls from her face as Melissa releases a wail and begins to writhe. Regret immediately floods Mei’s system. What was she thinking? Subjecting Melissa to this is akin to torture! How could see have been so blind?!

Mei dashes for the shutdown lever and yanks it, cutting off the connection between the kite and the series of wires pumping the electricity into Melissa. As soon as the link is cut, Melissa flops down against the table, unmoving with her eyes staring glassily at the ceiling. Mei rushes to her side, grasping her hand and wincing as static electricity shocked her. It was a mere penitence for what she’d just put Melissa through. 

“Melissa? Melissa, I’m sorry!” Mei sobs and collapses against the metal table. She’d abused her power as Melissa’s creator and caretaker. She felt like Icarus, having flown too close to the sun only to be blasted out of the sky in retribution. She was too busy crying to notice the bright glow return to Melissa’s eyes and the fact that Melissa’s heartbeat still faintly sounded on the monitor.

“Mistress? Why are you upset? Did my heart stop?” 

Mei jumps up when Melissa speaks. The blonde is smiling bashfully at her. Crying, Mei throws her arms around her neck and sobs into those golden tresses of hair she’d perfected into silky perfection. 

“Melissa! Please forgive me! I’ve crossed a line and I hurt you. I should have known better!” she snuffled. While rubbing at one eye, she used her other hand to hurriedly unclasp the leather restraints binding Melissa. The android rose, somewhat jerkily as electricity still sparked in the joints beneath her synthetic skin, and gave Mei a sweet smile. 

“Do not despair, mistress. I’m quite all right. There, there.” Mei had programmed many human reactions into Melissa, including offering comfort and condolence, and she couldn’t help but marvel at her ability to create such realistic mimicry of human emotion. Sniffling, Mei buried her face into the crook of Melissa’s neck, while the android gave a small laugh. 

“Would you feel better if I made you some iced coffee, mistress? I know that is your favorite.” 

“Yes. Let’s drink it together, Melissa.” 

“To test the capabilities of my digestive tract?” 

Mei’s nose wrinkled up as she snorted in laughter. With an amused smile, Mei looked up and shook her head. 

“No, because I want to enjoy it with you. No more experiments. From now on, you are my friend, not my creation.” 

Melissa blinked slowly as she regarded Mei. A smile slowly formed on her lips. Yes, happiness. Surely, that is what this emotion must be, she thought. 

[tsarisfanfiction]

Hero

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rated: Gen Genre: Friendship Characters: Scott, Bee, Henry, OC Scout leader

They say you should never meet your heroes. Failure to comply may result in getting tongue-tied, or a failure of the brain to mouth filter. Post-episode tag for 3.24 "Firebreak"

Rescue Scout Leader Neil had his heart in his mouth from the moment he heard that Bee and Henry had ended up trapped in the huge forest fire threatening their village right up until the moment Thunderbirds One and Two landed by the firefighters clearing away their equipment and the two children were lowered from the green giant's access hatch.

A Rescue Scout is calm was fantastic when you were the one in trouble, but it did little to help agitated guardians when the danger was nowhere near you, but threatening to kill two of your charges. Bee, he had no doubt, had kept her head admirably. Mature for her age and quick thinking, Neil had her pegged for a future Falcon one day. Henry, on the other hand, was eager and enthusiastic, but discouraged easily and had yet to progress past Buzzard. Neil hoped he would progress as he got older – what leader didn't hope for their troop members to reach the highest levels – but for now his youth worked against him. The boy would have panicked.

Except, neither child looked remotely shaken by their near-death experience. Bee was smiling warmly as she thanked the men in blue, shaking the hands of the three that had disembarked with her, while Henry seemed to be almost bouncing on his feet. The yellow-sashed man ruffled his hair, clearly amused, and he beamed. Neil had heard stories – who hadn't, and the Rescue Scouts as a whole held International Rescue in the highest regard, considering all the members honorary Falcons of the highest calibre – but to see the reassuring nature of the men in person was something else entirely.

A fourth man appeared, dropping down from Thunderbird One, and Neil watched in amazement as he barely crossed half the distance between the two craft before Henry was jumping at him, clutching him around the shoulders tightly and babbling something Neil couldn't hear from where he was. The grey-sashed man laughed, catching him and continuing to walk heedless of the additional weight before putting him down beside Bee, who instead of reaching out for a grateful handshake as she had with the others, extended both her arms in a demand for a hug of her own. It was given, before Fire Chief Carter interrupted them to talk.

They say you should never meet your heroes. Neil's stomach fluttered as though filled with butterflies as the grey-sashed man broke away from the conversation and began to head towards him, one hand resting easily on Henry's shoulder and keeping pace easily with Bee's hoverchair. The commander of International Rescue – who else could the man be, piloting the flagship of the fleet as he did – definitely ranked right up there amongst the greatest of his heroes, and he was walking right towards him.

"It's Neil, right?" the man said, stopping directly in front of him, Henry still plastered to his side and gazing up at him in total adoration. Neil could relate as his voice promptly vanished and all he could manage was an awkward nod. "The name's Scott, it's good to meet you." A hand – the one not on Henry's shoulder – extended towards him and he blinked at it for a moment before common sense returned and he clasped it in one of his own. The fingers, bare past the cut off of the gloves, were warm.

"Likewise," he managed awkwardly. "Thank you for saving them." Scott chuckled, and he was struck by the realisation that they couldn't be that far apart in age. He'd always thought the members of International Rescue were older.

"They hardly needed me," he said as he pulled his hand back and rested it on Bee's shoulder. "You've got a good pair of kids here. The Rescue Scouts are lucky to have them." It sounded like the sort of line regurgitated all the time to worried guardians to reassure and distract them from the severity of what had just happened, except Scott managed to sound like he truly believed it as he smiled down at both children.

"Scott taught us the triple fisherman knot!" Henry burst out suddenly, apropos of nothing, fishing around in his pockets to withdraw a piece of thick string. "Look!" Caught off guard, and a little disbelieving that in the space of a few short hours, including being at the centre of an inferno, Henry had managed to learn one of the more complicated knots in the handbook, Neil watched the familiar over-under. "Ta-dah!"

One perfect triple fisherman knot sat in the palm of his hands, and Neil couldn't help but stare at Scott, his opinion of the man skyrocketing even higher, if that possible. The man chuckled a little awkwardly.

"Scott was a Rescue Scout, too," Bee interjected before Neil could think of a verbal response. "He was a Falcon."

"You were?" Neil blurted before his brain caught up with his mouth. "I mean, er, well, the organisation considers you honorary Falcons, but I never thought that you might actually have been one of us," he gabbled.

"Honorary Falcons?" Scott sounded amused and Neil just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. "The others'll like that. They never made it that far. Alan's still a Kite, and Gordon never made it past Squid."

Squid?

"Hey, squid are way cooler than your birds of prey!" a yell came from the trio still with the firefighters. Neil managed to glance around Scott – a difficult feat, the man was tall and had a commanding presence – to identify the most likely culprit as the yellow-sashed one. Yellow. Thunderbird Four. The aquanaut.

"Ignore him," Scott said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "I'll leave these two in your hands then, Neil," he continued, gently nudging Henry forwards and breaking into a fond smile as the boy gripped onto his arm. "I've got to go now, Henry." Neil watched as he crouched down to the boy's height and gently extracted his arm before ruffling Henry's hair lightly. "You did really good today; keep it up and you'll make Falcon." Henry nodded jerkily, breaking into a big smile, and Scott stood up unimpeded. "You, too, Bee," he said, before turning to Neil, whose mouth immediately went dry again.

"Thank you," he managed, swallowing awkwardly. "For saving them."

"It's what we do," Scott shrugged. "I'm glad we could." He turned and began to walk away.

"Wait!" Neil's mouth lurched ahead of his brain again, talking without permission. "Why don't you visit the troop some time? The kids would love to meet you!"

Scott had stopped at his initial shout and was looking back at him over his shoulder. For the first time in the encounter, he'd stopped smiling and instead wore something more akin to a frown. He looked tired.

"We-"

"-would love to!" a new voice broke in, and Neil blinked at the tank of a man who had snuck up on them without his notice. A green baldric proclaimed him as the pilot of Thunderbird Two.

"It'd be awesome," the final member said, coming up on Scott's other side. "I haven't been to a meeting since I became a member of International Rescue. Oh man, did you say I could be a Falcon?"

"Honorary Falcon, bird-brain," the aquanaut corrected. "But aren't you still a Kite? How many levels below Falcon is that?"

"Not my fault I have to do all my badges remotely," the red-sashed man pouted, although Neil was quickly realising that he was still a teenager – and still a Rescue Scout! He wondered if the boy's troop realised they had an actual member of International Rescue amongst them. Almost certainly not – that was news that wouldn't be kept quiet across the network for long.

"Guys-" Scott started. "You know we can't-"

"What Scott is trying to say," the largest man said, cutting him off – Neil was starting to wonder if his initial assumption that Scott was the commander was accurate – "is that we have some other commitments at the moment, but once those are settled we'd love to try and work something out."

"Really?" Henry and Bee both asked, the boy bouncing on the soles of his feet while Bee clutched at her badge sash.

Scott's shoulders slumped and he took a deep breath before fully turning to face them again. While not as big as earlier, his smile had returned.

"No promises," he warned. "We're very busy. But I don't see why we can't try."

"Yes!" the children exclaimed, punching the air in delight. Neil watched Scott's smile grow a little more at the sight.

"Well, we need to be off now," the man said, and offered his hand to Neil again. Awestruck all over again, Neil accepted it. "See you again sometime."

With friendly waves, the four of them turned away again and headed back towards Fire Chief Carter, and their Thunderbirds.

"Aren't they amazing?" Henry asked as they watched the two craft take off a minute later. "He said his Dad taught him the triple fisherman knot. Do you think he could bring him along, too?"

"That's up to him and his Dad," Neil said, reaching out and putting his own hands on their shoulders to steer them away as the Thunderbirds vanished into the distance. "Let's get back to base. Everyone's been worried about you two."

"We were fine," Bee said, before a somewhat sly grin formed on her face. "Your face is red, though. You looked like a tomato the entire time Scott was here."

Neil spluttered.

"I did not!"

[prince-of-scenarios]

This may be a little off season but the captains and new years kisses?

(HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE my gosh i can’t believe how many holidays i’ve missed ╥﹏╥) also i just logged back in and im laughing bc the season is now bACK IN BUSINESS KIDS

Tezuka glances at his s/o, who had started dozing off at around the 11PM mark. They wanted desperately to stay awake, but their enthusiasm was losing to exhaustion; they would pass out soon. Ten minutes left. The time seems to drag on, and he sits patiently in the silence, looking out the window to watch dawn break. When he next looks down, they’re asleep, and his expression softens. “Happy New Year,” he says quietly, leaning down to give them a soft kiss on the cheek. 

As the clock finishes chiming, their eyes flutter open and they awaken with a start. “Oh no! I missed it! I missed it, didn’t I?” 

“You still have a few seconds before it’s 12:01,” he says, and they look up at him shyly. 

“Can I kiss you?” they ask. He nods, the ghost of a smile on his face. They lean up, kissing him softly on the lips and he leans into them. “H-Happy New Year,” they say, and his smile widens slightly. 

“Happy New Year.” 

Atobe swirls his drink in his glass. The New Year party had been going just as planned; the house was lively and full of guests and cheer and his s/o sat beside him, sipping their own drink. Some of his guests had partners and others were sitting together in a corner, making not-so subtle jokes about not having someone to kiss when the clock struck midnight. 

“What would you do if I weren’t here?” his s/o suddenly asks. Atobe stops to look down at them. 

“Ahn~? Ore-sama would never allow it. It’s only natural that you spend the new year with your partner,” he says. “Unless you’re saying you don’t like this?” they shake their heads. 

“No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just a thought that popped into my head,” they said. The clock began to chime, and around them happy couples shared kisses, while those without dates merely raised their drinks in a solemn toast. 

Atobe smirks, and leans down to kiss his s/o. They kiss back with equal fervor, cupping his cheek and smiling against his mouth. “Happy New Year,” he says quietly. 

Shiraishi was not so lucky this year with the weather; it became clear that the sky was cloudy, meaning they could not have the full, pure experience of watching the sun rise. Part of Shiraishi felt let down; he was sure his s/o was also disappointed. Still, as they were sitting in the living room beneath a kotatsu, he felt content, despite the cloudy weather. The clock ticks on, and he takes his s/o’s hand, squeezing it slightly. He leans forward to kiss them gently, running his hand through their hair. 

“It’s almost time,” he says, “just a few more seconds.” 

“Countdown?” they suggest, and he nods. “Five... four... three...” they lean closer to him, he can feel their soft breathing on his face. “Two... one.” They kiss him and he holds them as closely as he can with the table between them. The bell chimes somewhere around them. 

“Happy New Year,” he whispers. 

Yukimura adored the way his s/o’s ears and nose were red from the chilly air; the sky growing lighter and lighter and soon it was clear that the sun would show over the horizon line. He wraps an arm around them; relishing their laugh as they return the hug. They exchange quiet banter in each other’s arms, waiting for the clock to chime to signal the new year. 

“Are you ready?” he asks softly. They nod, snuggling up against him. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” they say, looking out at the horizon line. And he says their name softly, caressing their cold cheek with his cold hands and they let out a quiet chuckle at the sensation. When he kisses them, he feels the sun on his face, can see the light through his closed eyelids and there’s nothing more that he wants in this very moment than to hold them in his arms forever. 

Aoi jittered nervously beside his s/o. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets despite him itching to hold hands with his s/o; they just looked so cute in their fluffy winter attire, and as the New Year approached, he became even more nervous.  They pull him down by his scarf, closing their eyes and he squeezes his shut as they kiss him. His hands quickly find their cheeks, cold and rosy and he holds them as they kiss. There’s distant cheering and when he pulls away he swears he sees stars in their eyes. 

“Happy New Year!” they smile cheerfully. 

“Happy New Year,” he whispers breathlessly. “I l-love you,” their cheeks turn redder and they hug him tightly. 

“I love you too.” 

Kite’s eyes flicker to his watch. His s/o had been gone longer than he thought; they’d gone to go to the bathroom and hadn’t yet returned. The streets were only a little busy, at most a few people walking by together, either drunk or just returning from whatever they were doing. He’s about to go look for them when he hears his name. He turns to see them hurrying down the street, waving to him with a wide smile on their face. “You’re late,” he says, but his voice lacks bite. They lean up to give him a kiss on his cheek and he raises an eyebrow at them. 

“To prepare,” they reply, cheeks turning red as they grin. He hums, bringing them close, and when the bell chimes in the distance, he cups their cheek, staring into the eyes before leaning down to kiss them gently. 

“Happy New Year,” he says, and they smile up at him in return. 

Tachibana nestled under the kotatsu with his s/o, peeling an orange and stacking the bits of peel at the corner of the table. “This is your third orange, at this rate, don’t you think you’ve had enough?” His s/o teases him. 

“Not at all,” he replies, smiling as he plucks the last bit of orange string from the fruit. “Want a slice?” he asks. They shake their head. It’s quiet save for the T.V. in the background, set to a low volume as to not disturb the peaceful atmosphere. 

“Almost there,” his s/o says, watching the clock. “I’m so excited!”

“Well, this is the first one since we’ve been together,” he says and they smile bashfully. 

“That’s why I’m excited, I’m so glad we could be experiencing this together,” they say. His expression softens; he reaches out with his hand and they lean closer, pressing their lips together. The clock strikes midnight seconds later, and he feels them smile against his mouth. “You taste like orange,” they whisper. 

“Happy New Year to you too,” he returns the smile. 

[indra-s-mann-blog]

Religion

Since I've talked about being a lama, having long life, and looking young.  I thought the next topic I'll write on is religion.  There are a variety of misunderstandings regarding religion.  After a multi-faith council and a declassification(and censorship) meeting.  It was decided that the groups would find their own way of making things clear.  But faced the fact if they didn't dispel myths and clarify things the future would see a less positive change for them.

Some churches carry secure archives.  They have historical artifacts and documentation preserved there and kept safe from people that might abuse it.  The churches sometimes are seen as irrational and not compatible with science and rational thought.  This happened after disputes saw many frauds enter the system using the community power to get people into certain habits or practices.  The churches for several faiths always had a faith and belief in technology and evidence based systems.  Some of the churches had a belief in a creator that didn't clash with science and some were atheist that saw things as a non thinking non-feeling process(un-sentient).

The word "Theist" means to have a theory.  Which is the same thing the people in churches had at the time so they often agreed to disagree.   Though some saw radical or polarized beliefs in a church environment might cause trouble.  However that doesn't mean the same process can't happen with atheist.  For churches the news would carry a consistent organization and for the atheists it would just mention individuals.  So we remember the church controversies easier from repetition.  Religious organizations often removed these groups from their list of approved or condoned groups.

Years ago we found some people setting up fake churches in ruins or remote areas.  Occasionally they moved into an old abandoned building.   These people often weren't monks or priests.  They were gangs hiding their haul from theft, their people from prosecution, or running a drug operation.  They would dress like monks or priests, keep some religious looking books around(sometimes stolen from other places or copied in part).  Then they would take donations from people, occasionally pretend to council people.

The fakes would make claims to police and military that they couldn't enter as it was a church.  Usually people would look it up unless they had been in the area a long time.  Even then we would look it up most of the time.  Often we would find that yes a church once was in the area but was either in ruins or there was a priest or monk in the area at one time.  But that the priest or monk didn't settle there and make a building.  Sometimes they have tried to falsify records at main buildings to make them look legitimate.  Part of why the Vatican openly has a police group and guard everywhere.

When people first started saying they heard voices from heaven or the sky.  It was a misunderstanding caused by some natural phenomenon such as echos carrying or people that weren't aware when radios or satellites were made.  There is a cave that has a natural crystal radio.  As a child I was in it and we wondered where the voices we heard came from.

We knew it wasn't some ghost or monster and investigated the cave more and the stones it was made of.  We found another cave that was similar and ran our own tests saying things back and forth.  The minerals are probably rare in their combination in most places but not in that area where we found more and marked them for distance communication.

Later technology saw us remove the rocks in mining operations to re-purpose them.  Look up how a crystal radio is made you will see how simple it can be; especially with certain precious metal veins or crystal veins running underground or in a mountain range.  As a fact its part of the reason we knew to run lines to carry signals.

Crystal radio(Wikipedia)

Crystal detector

Galena with Fluorite

Galena

Fluorite(Wikipedia)

Metamorphic rock

Hydrothermal Minerals

Quartz(Wikipedia)

How to Make Electricity With Quartz or Diamonds

Electric Minerals and Natural Electricity

Cave of the Mounds

(This is a site like the cave radio system I mentioned.)

Antenna types(Wikipedia)

Directional Audio

Reflection Of Sound

Sound Echoes

Sound levels – decibels, intensity and distance

How Satellites Work

Small satellite

Military radio antenna kites

Army’s inflatable antennas make light work of satcom in the field

The military and army had piezoelectric crystal radios much longer than those articles admit.  Radio has existed for longer than the articles also mention and was known before the 1800s though not widely known or discussed.  Some of them broke while in use.  Some were in private collections and not put in public museums.

People also were testing speakers(with kite string wires or off of balloons) and directional antennas that bounced sound to the ground.   Some people in village that didn't know what was going on thought they heard the voice of god.  It wasn't that but it was a military communication system or inventors test of devices.  I used one of these while out in a rural area when I needed to send a message without more modern technology.  In the known cases with villages people tried to explain to them but they didn't understand the technology and were more comfortable thinking it was the voice of a god.

Some old languages are also not dead and have been misinterpreted by some archaeologists and anthropologist causing poor translations.   Somethings require local life knowledge to grasp their slang or word applications.  Also some people didn't consider a different language.   Some of the Tamil had lived in South America and this included some of my family.  Pachacuti was my grandpa and the Manu name is found as Manco Cápac or Manco Inca.  Siri comes from Sayri and none of the birth/death dates are quite accurate(it was seen as a security thing at the time). The Hanan dynasty is the found as the Han dynasty in China and the Xin was active in Africa(Congo/Mauritania/Nigeria).  

South America is actually the continent of Mu which once was known as the dragon (dinosaur) but suffered some continental damage in some events they had in history and then connected to North America which once was known as the Elephant(Yaṉai, Gadjah, Ane/Ana, or Haathee/Hathawa - "Hope" the Water Elephant) or some called it Ganesha. Others called the one continent Mu because it was a sound a cow makes and they thought it looked like a cow head.  A map showing it looks more like a dinosaur.  Though now the damage was enough to several areas of the world the original continent shapes aren't the same.

Lantia or Atlantis was actually China and was to look like a big ray fish.  The city attributed to that name is in Africa(Eye of the Sahara - damaged by a Tsunami during an impact offshore) but there was another "eye" city in India.  Antarctica was known as the Bird (Manuk - from the Manu/Manco/Mang) or the Bird of Paradise(Manuk Saka Swarga) but after it was covered by snow it was called white rabbit.  India and Sri Lanka was Vantu(Beetle), Europe had a horse shape(Hevonen, Hester, or Arklys - people of the Ark), and Africa as the Heart(Cuore, Xin, or Okan).

Even looking at a current map of the world if you rotate it you can see some of the original shapes.  So there aren't really any lost continents they are just shifted in maps or have other names in the modern map.   For the dynasties and overlaps the world came to use a diverse calendar system.  Some use solar some use lunar but there are a lot of calendars and rarely were people using the same one.

Many of our languages use a different glyphic system, often phonetics.   Languages became creoled meaning they have loan words and are mixed.   Some phrases are localized slang and only in more connected circumstances or shared circumstances things overlap.  But if your paying attention realize the loan words(despite language speed or accent).

In old records my family kept and others kept in secure places these facts were documented.  However others came, caused trouble, there were disasters and everyone to keep the peace just didn't talk about things anymore.  In the books that are in museums or mentioned publicly often real peoples faces are hidden by masks drawn over them using the semaphore symbol for Manaz(security).  The odd item is probably though in someones private collection as well.  If you look at a map of the earth you can still make out some of the original shapes.

Pachacuti

Manco Inca Yupanqui

Sayri Túpac

Wang Mang(Xin Dynasty)

List of lost lands

Mu (lost continent)

Atlantis

History of calendars

Everything About Calendars

The Incan translations are off these words are english phonetics of chinese words turned into a phrase or single word.  Pachacuti wasn't the name of the man.  It literally translated as 啪嚓粗体 which in turn doesn't easily or properly translate unless each symbol or grouping is taken into account.  The meaning was actually a status report if others in the military came across the planets remains.  

啪 Pow - combat or land

嚓 Cracking  or snapping

粗 coarse, rough, vulgar, rude, crude, thick, heavy, bulky, drifter, homeless

体 prison, pallbearer, body, inferior, health, form, field, appearance

This translated into:  The land has cracked, it's adrift, using a containment field(to keep atmosphere).  Combat happened, it was rough, and the world(land) is dead.  Combat was heavy and we are homeless.  You can see now how the calendar they had speaks of destruction and seems to stop.

It was a compressed text cipher that is encapsulated meaning more than one word meaning is used to save space and keep things short for quicker communications.  At one point because of how it sounded in another language it got nicknamed "Papa Roach" as in "Father bug" and also "Old Man"(Old cout and Cout also means Scout).  The music was a complex cipher(Audio/Video, etc) and took a very long time to be released to the public and by then they didn't realize or necisarily care what it was. They couldn't read the messages in the cipher and took the music and lyrics at face value.

Many declassified audio/video ciphers have that sort of response.  The other names also translate into something.  As you can see the items used are two characters(one uses 3) each vs a single glyph.  But the two characters make a new third glyph when combined.  This is also a type of encapsulation.  Some of the single words in their combinations the meaning has been lost in modern times but think of them like cave drawings.

One glyph says they were looking out the window(or going through a hatch) and had taken samples(storage), one said engineering and life sciences, another said ships antenna, another also said saw(or went through hatch) damage(weapon or device).  The B like symbol was used for hatch or window and the one symbol was same meanings as the christian cross(science wise).  A similar symbol to the cross shape was used to indicate ship.  One symbol meant antenna or wind power generation(green power).

Some of the other glyphs also had secondary meaning as icons for things much like you use today.  Imagine how someone will view your emoticons and such in the future if they were an archaeologist.

These glyphs the archaeology was carefully handled in some spots and the information classified or censored at the time.  But just enough things were out that the ancient chinese and indian cultures do imply or speak of space travel.  Also as I've said the continents had mostly animal shapes.  They were planed and made those ways.  Meaning moving or creating land wasn't new.  This was a diplomatic area before damage was caused.  The damage links to issues on a much larger planet(Earth was one of its moons).

If archaeologists and anthropologists had handled things better there would be less confusion and less myths or legends for some of it.  Some did not deliberately mislead and honestly lacked some life experience or education.  A few however were simply seeking fame and got involved in antiquities fraud(for money); partly as a way to money launder stolen gold, etc.

A mistake one made once was to mix up a marker for a face mask on a sarcophagus.  Typically a wooden or ceramic mask would of been inside on the mummy.  The "gold" or stone cases sometimes depicted a mask with handle(sort of like Mardi Gras masks have them or bases of hand mirrors).

At the time people also used to use a tie on condom made of woven plant leaves.  Someone put it on his face as a joke when dealing with foreigners asking questions.  They then thought it was to be a fake beard and then proceeded to make fools of themselves.  But others were tired of them claiming to "discover" things that others already knew or taking their historical items.

In Indonesia area there are two islands with creatures outsiders think are extinct.  Others aren't welcome there and it is managed and watched over by special park rangers.  One bird is very dangerous and related to a pterodactyl and the other is a vegetarian reptile that is nocturnal and blends in with plants.  People tried to get at them once to hunt or take as a trophy.  Fearing they would kill the few that were left they attacked the foreigners and everyone got protective of the area.

Time went on and more people ended up on the islands; larger cities formed.  So unless your local to the two areas, even if your Indonesian, etc you may not know they exist and even locals will attack people who are Indonesian seeking them to protect the animals.  They will not talk of it with outsiders.  It isn't Jurassic Park but someone once tried to set up a small private island with attempts to clone some.  One dinosaur skeleton was found once that tests proved it had plastic or resin in it along with horse and alligator DNA.

7 Historical Hoaxes

Faking the Past: when archaeologists commit fraud

Art Theft News:  News and press releases related to the FBI's Art Theft Program.

Archaeological forgery

Why Is Radiocarbon Dating Important To Archaeology?

There are ways to fake age an item so that it can pass radio carbon dating.  So there is a newer method to also spot fakes vs real items.   Though it is not disclosed to the public as a result of the people that have tried to beat carbon dating and also DNA tests.  Synthetic DNA and 3d printing technologies allow people to fake bones and even soft tissues in a way that can make them seem to be from a real thing from the past.  However people good at lab work or with enough experience and knowledge can spot these frauds.

I tried to look them up online but wasn't able to find it.  Perhaps it was my search terms but it could be that it is blocked from public to reduce the problem.  Some people have made art frauds with computers and also 3d scanning or using photo realistic face masks.  I will admit in past for movies sometimes we did use skeletons with reconstructed faces as our characters.  Later we found out some resembled people that were currently alive.(possible decedents or DNA re-occurance for appearance factors.)

Somethings from history are obvious.  In an Egyptian pyramid you can clearly see some symbols still in use today.  Amut used to be a emblem used by the coroners office and a single snake on a stylus for medical.(after a fallout with Apophis and Serapis)  Some items were defaced and changed.  Aset or Set symbol animal was not originally an anteater it was a giraffe(named Qlin).  Qlin or Set is on Scandinavian boats and some mistook it for a goat head.

Somethings people assume in history were fake or "ancient aliens" but they aren't fake.  Some are from people of the time using space suits/atmosphere suits or hazmat type health safety suits and more rural people not knowing what they were.  Other things were real vehicles people were making and testing.

While most were from that time period one or two weren't and were a result of an incident involving the military.  They had to unfortunately leave something in a old building after officers were attacked and walled up in a fake pyramid(it wasn't one of the original).  It did though make people tourist money later for people that believed it really was built by ancients.

One of the religious stories of past is related to my own cousin.  His father known as a Islamic leader(family of Mohammad).  When the boy was small they realized he had hemophilia like some others in the family.   The baby got hurt as he fell down and bruised his leg and got a cut.  He died as a result.  His family mourned him greatly as he was only a toddler and they had waited until late in life to have children.  The boys mother sat at his side mourning and preparing the body.  She didn't want to leave it nor did his father.  Others convinced them to take a break and said they would sit with the body.  Later they returned and with others around the boy resuscitated scaring everyone.

They weren't sure what to think, tested the child to make sure it was the same person that left.  Weird stories were going around about hatian type zombies.  But they never used that stuff and wouldn't on their baby.  The baby(named Krishna) was fine but they needed to move because of the stir it caused.  He literally was their little miracle.  Later he had two children and passed at an older age.

His father unfortunately was grabbed by some radicals wanting to take over Islam and they tortured and murdered him.  Which is what we equate to part of Christs death.  In the word "Jesus" we find the term "Je suis" which mean's "I am"(french) and for science and engineering it links to the physicians oath, and similar oaths.

Years ago some foreigners got near some of the old books while visiting.  They were allowed to look at them as scholars.  But they became mad at a local farmer.  They enjoyed the fruits and vegetables so much they wanted to grow them at home.  The person took some and tried with no farming experience.  They didn't understand simple soil ph or soil chemistry and plant requirements.  They spoke to a farmer asking how to make the plants grow but the farmer didn't like foreigners or their remarks about historical items.  He told them to put cow manure on things.

The man's plants suffered from problems over soil ph, etc and the manure made it worse.  The man swore he'd get revenge so changed somethings in a translation.  Then said "We'll see who buys the bull this time."  The "bull" in bible is supposed to mean bibliography but church elders at the Vatican, etc could tell you they have several copies of the bible in several languages.  Some really are a load of something and others have varying accuracy of translation but nothing deliberately to mislead.

The "Testament" was a project to record the stories of elders or survivors of certain events in history.  There is more than the old and new.  There were at least 3 books that I remember and perhaps one or two others that followed.  Some are far more modern accounts of things.

The explanation of the Earth's situation at that time some people rejected it and rather than have further problems they adapted(to peoples denial and stress.  In destruction they lost much.)  This made some translations "fuzzy" not just people poorly understanding languages.

The scientific explanation isn't fully true nor is it a lie.  Long ago the first planet formed from what you might call a ball of energy in space or spark.  It materialized layers around it like a 3d printer.   Eventually the cooler outer layers developed life in a subterranean system where minerals generated light as did molten flows.

People developed moved around, mined, etc and eventually got out to the surface which had no atmosphere at the time.  Until things were put near an area to grow out of an entrance to the surface.  You can find molluscs and other creatures in subterranean areas, as well as lichens and other plant type materials.

The planet destabilized with time from all the mining and other things. Earthquakes, volcanic problems, and other things went on.  Forcing people to find an alternative.  As already curious if they were alone in space they started making ships to explore and then moved to making livable space habitats for the survival of people.  They learned how to make space ships with earth like areas inside them and figured out how to build a planet using microorganisms and advanced physics methods.

A few people stayed on the planet refusing to leave when it blew up.   After the explosion two stars emerged.  People recycled part of the destroyed planets.  One of the new suns in a sky that originally was dark with no sun; started making a new planet.

So it was learned how the original planet was made.  The one sun didn't make anything new for a long time.  When it did it didn't do it again.   The sun that started constructing a planet had similar life development on it.  Watched by its neighbours on artificially made worlds and in ships.  The world developed but they didn't make contact for awhile trying to figure out how well things would be handled for they wanted peace not war.

Also the new planets people that developed had no idea what we had witnessed to grasp their origins.  Some were in denial over how they came about until a long time passed and they also saw it.  Before that though they had seen others make worlds and were angry and combative in some cases.

One of the artificial worlds was built over a Dyson Shell with remains of the original world preserved in a field.  Which likely lead to the flat earth stories and the stories of a firmament.  Though the latter also could be remnants of being subterranean.  People at one point forgot who they were after disasters and wars.

Their new family from the one young new star that made a planet weren't so ready for contact and when they found the reconstructed world thinking it a normal planet started trying to invade and control.  They didn't want further problems so threatened others and basically held people hostage when they realized others were far more advanced in technology.  On the planet they were hassling people were mostly pacifists that didn't want war.

After people were attacked the others didn't want them to know anything of their history destroying books, technologies, etc.  Some technologies they took back to their own planet or sold.  An uprising happened and people were freed.  Returning to their technology and other people.  The others fled and became known as criminals which some in mythology might of equated to demons or pirates.

The rules described in the commandments were an attempt by leaders to stop some problems people were having socially.  Eventually it lead to a legal system to enforce rules of behaviour and protect society.

Priests used to be warriors, teachers, doctors, veterinarians, agriculturalists, architects, and scientists.  They counsel led people, lead festivals or celebrations.  They often advised or lead.  The word priest is from another word which translated into "fish" but the fish in Christianity was a symbol of DNA(life sciences).

The temples or churches used to be schools, store houses, hospitals, meeting rooms, or leaders homes where they kept a safe area for others to retreat to.  Monks(or sisters) used to maintain a treasury and would mint coins and track market exchange.  Some of them did some of the same jobs as priests.

Priests (and nuns) often weren't celibate and had partners(orientation wasn't necessarily an issue).  Sometimes people stayed single because of the job or they just didn't seem to find the right person.

When I say job related I mean they often had to come in contact with people or animals with illness and tend to them, they might have to travel a lot locally or abroad(long distance relationships or term marriages), sometimes in defence of others they had to fight causing PTSD or people reacting to the fact they were capable of killing in battle or in defence of  someone(police).

Also for married or partnered people(couples) there is trying to tend to things alone including finances, family business, household, and children or elderly.  Life is hard enough sometimes without the extra responsibilities being a certain type of leader or career calls for.

Some people equated as gods in history weren't gods they were simply leaders in some regard or people involved in events that stood out.   They were written down and talked about.  Some are claimed to be marriages of close blood relatives.

This was not true.  Often places had a co-rule system requiring a female leader and male leader; each handling their own set of duties.  Their spouses weren't always mentioned.  Sometimes they were listed by more than one name as a secondary title or as a security thing to mislead problem people.  Things were also defaced and changed more than once.

There are some christian similar african and asian religions.  None really are Egyptian related.  But people always claim they are related. Usually citing single god worship of Atun.

Christianity is called a monotheism but depending on the branch it's a Henotheism or Polytheism.  That is including saints or the concept of a triple god(father, son, holy ghost, or matron, maiden, and crone.)   Catholics fall under polytheism or Henotheism.  Monotheism wouldn't need to point out 3 forms(equated to states of life).  Humans and gods can die(according to some myths) and have stages of life(also in myths).

A singular non human entity wouldn't fit those definitions which we have humanized or made similar to us.  When Atun's beliefs are commonly described he's either Henotheistic or Monotheistic as he believes in or follows a single(not a triple).  Christians also have a mother goddess mentioned which is Mary and another the Magdalena.  Which equates to mother and mothers helper or possibly surrogate mother based on the stories.

In Christianity and several other religions a "flame" is mentioned.   Some equate this with the sun or planetary core.  Others relate it to a scientific artifact not on display to the public.  A device developed to provide assistance in an emergency by augmenting someone with a knowledge base of a person with experience that might of passed on.(Similar to what you see on the show "The 100," "Johnny Mnemonic", and one other show demonstrated similar units.)

While many devices were external people had tried medical implants some of which were socket able to clip something into for an instant intuitive update.  Since they would feel physically familiar and more confident than someone simply passing them sets of instructions from a wristband, ear piece, or augmented reality device.

Such devices if found during conflict might get confiscated and become useful to a combatant.  So one system being locked to certain things would then become useless, especially if they didn't grasped how it was made.

Catholic's once had a working device and so did the Zoroastrian's and one other religion.  Also through artificial processes people could be carriers of memory to return to recall what they knew of their own past life from that time forward.

Other people could naturally do this.  It tends to be called reincarnation.  In my family it isn't needed for those that have reincarnation it is natural and has to do with a natural genetic combination that affects memory, longevity, and ability to resuscitate.

One of the first times I died was saving a child from a bunch of criminals that were abusing her when I was a kid.  I was hurt as was the child, and took the kid somewhere safe and got medical help.  Then they found us and killed us both(the doctor and I) and took the child.   Another time I lived a ripe old age and passed with my family around me.  I've also died in battle and from sickness.

Henotheism

Monotheism

Polytheism

Triple deity

A List of All Religions and Belief Systems

There are things in the Islamic belief system which has been proven to be facts.  All belief systems that are considered valid choices have some proven facts.  In Islam my family proved the beliefs on people and their blood types.  With AO and BO chimeras naturally occurring they can produce children of singular blood types or mixed from chimerism.

It came to pass that some people were living in a cave city communally each doing their part and also sometimes doing trade.  They were in the cave due to other events in the world but had technologies higher than the people that came to attack them.  They didn't like war and didn't want death around.  But the group came during the season of births and celebration.

The Sheppard took the sheep out to pasture outside the caves.  The man was threatened and then they killed all the sheep and released him to bring people out.  They then called them the lambs of god and took some of the men and put a muzzle on them like one puts on a dog.

It became a tradition of their people to attack the others and do this then write up their own laws and claim that the Islam religion is theirs and that people should obey them.  This was a community under attack and the labels are a result of their attackers as are many misconceptions over what Islamic or Muslim people believe.

People didn't have to pray 5 times a day.  The clothing they wore was for different reasons as several were in medical sciences and agriculture.  The breaks were taken for health reasons.  Some of them were meals or just rest like having breaks at your job for coffee or lunch.

If prayer or meditation happened it was at sunrise or sun set.  The reason for that I won't explain here but it is very old.  Prayer or meditation was a time for reflection on the day or issues of concern or joy.  We gave thanks to life and it is symbolic in the energy of the sun.  Sometimes we sang or did yoga at those times.  Which somehow translated into prayer mats and long drawn out group prayers.

You can be alone or in a group and don't have to segregate by gender.   That only came about because someone was not well and to keep away diseases.  It came into the mythology of not looking at the bride before a wedding because the groom once got sick in travel and unknowingly made his bride ill along with the other men who spread it to their female family.  In the weddings the woman would work together so that looked like segregation when it wasn't to outsiders.

My Islam side of the family tree knows all about it and how outsiders hassled people and then tried to proclaim themselves leaders.  As leaders they demanded people donate to their church and them giving them the best food, etc or god might punish them.  These problem people didn't care if people starved to death, lived in rags, died of illness, or lost their children.  They treated them like cattle or worse at the height of their awful behaviour.  The legitimate people shared with others and others donated to the shared food reserves, etc and helped in the running, upkeep, and events.

While modern times have seen certain costs for priests that didn't once exist.  Most priests of any religion tend to work a second job and work with others on provision of pastoral care, education, counselling, and other services.  The religious communities have businesses to help fund them which some parishioners are part of but other ones systems don't allow that.  Some strictly refuse donations or demand participation.

Religious Symbolism isn't always what we think it means.  Many have seem to lost touch with the original meanings of many of them.  Some are part of a semaphoric system to communicate between communities in need of aid from war, health issues, or criminal attack.  Occasionally to commemorate something.

Religious symbolism and iconography

Religious symbol

Flag semaphore

International Code of Signals

Semaphore telegraph

Adinkra Symbols of Ashanti Kingdom

Adinkra Symbols and their meaning (English and Twi)

Some churches symbols were completely changed from their original meanings and stories linked to them that had nothing to do with that symbol.  The icon of Christ is one such symbol.  The priests were scientists and warriors.

The ring of thorns is a throwing weapon in the vine/rope category.  The mark or cut in the side is from an appendectomy as a sign of medical knowledge and surgery.  The scrawniness reminding us of how people struggled for food until we learned agricultural sciences.

The loin cloth a sign of industry and crafts in cloth manufacturing which was one of the oldest industries(outside of cooking and hunting). The spikes on the cross showing the pains miners took in learning to find precious resources and refining them; in caves sometimes you find stalactites which look like thorns and were called cave thorns.  

The cross symbolized electricity and communications as did him facing the sky to talk to his father in heaven.  Which was a sign to flight, wireless communications, and satellites(rockets and radios go way back).  The paleness symbolized pigment loss from vitiligo or albinism sometimes caused by chemistry, electronics, a possible virus, or genetics.

It also covered blood transfusions of which our first one is in conception and birth through the umbilical chord.  The book or sign on the cross a symbol of writing and putting things down to be remembered. A flower sometimes used as a memory that the world does have beauty in it and that sometimes that beauty is medicinal; though sometimes symbolizing a satellite dish.

Other symbols is the baptismal cross is a Buddhist wheel, Jerusalem cross is a Taoist continuous knot/Celtic knot and links to the alternative to mandalas, Ichthus is the same as the Taoist goldfish, the lamb connects them to Islam, the dove connects them to me, the rings link to physics(and Dyson Rings/Shells), the Star of David is linked to Astra(not astral) planes, bread and wine connects to food production and fuel production(the chalice a replacement for the linga or rocket drum), Pelican links to supply ships, the palm is similar to the seed or conch(palm plants also are used in a variety of products).

Christian symbolism

Jewish symbolism

Symbols of Islam

Buddhist and catholic prayer beads have two different meanings or historical uses.  At one time it was easy to put seeds on a string for planting a garden.  You could space the beads for easy planting like how we now use seed tape.  Also you could wear a bracelet of stones for a weapon if something might attack.  Later both seeds and stones were replaces by other ems for decorative wear.

At first wearing seeds was either a sign of wealth or that the person found a new crop of edible wild plants to grow at home and tame for medicine or food.  They would always carry a needle or have plant needles nearby and take a thread if they tore their clothes or found a edible plant.  The early days were hard and people sometimes had to go without eating to let a plant seed so they could have much more food the following year.

People learned to say rhymes, songs, or prayers, to remember how many seeds were needed to prosper for an average family.  People also learned to collect plants for other properties that weren't edible such as clothing, dyes, animal feeds, fuel, chemistry, etc.  They also would take and trade seeds with others and carrying them in bracelets or necklaces was easier.

In Hinduism the Yatra and Mendala's are linked to physics and waveform technologies.  Why some translate it to mean machine.  The Linga has to do with a space engine and is related to a drum that was later made from one.

My DNA shape oddly in it's super-coil resembled the Darmachakara.  The "Om" is for the word "Poem" as in the universe and it's consort(mirror/sibling) are believed to be from song or poetry of sound; cymatically produced.

The shape was believed to be a seed(

Loasa Chilensis

) or flower shape(

Lamourouxia viscosa

).  Another type of universe uses a seashell type, with it's equivelant of a linga, etc and two goldfish for DNA(chimera or male/female).

In Taoist we see the use of a different system from cymatic mandalas that used a type of string theory and are useful even other dimensional settings.  They also have a tree of life similar to

Yggdrasil

of the Scandinavians.

In the Taoist revered people I was the only woman.  Some people had tried to imitate some of the others but one links to my brother and chimerism causing him an obvious intersex state.  In my case physically(and reproductive organ wise) I look like a completely normal female.  As a chimera I had some health issues (double optic nerve, double urethra from bladder, menorrhagia, etc) and it was found that I had a male brain among other things(but no penis).  The one imposter for some reason was mimicking Waria(of Indonesia).

It was common to cross dress for safety.  Men would dress as women to avoid men looking for another man.  Women would dress as a man to be treated as an equal in some situations.  Some cultures had neutral dress.  Changes in society made this unnecessarily.  Though people still disguise themselves sometimes to avoid capture.

So I was female but considered gender neutral.  My family member was intersex and considered undecided on what he was.(gender fluid)

In Mayan symbols the marker on a linga say either 1925 or 2125.  I think it might be from 1925(a date of when the rockets were first used or when the satellite had to be destroyed).

History and Use of Prayer Beads Throughout the World

Hindu iconography

Hindu Symbolism

Pejeng drum

Dong Son drum

Sonoluminescence: Sound Into Light

Cymatics: The Science of Dance:  The Study of the Effects Sound Has on Matter

Cymatics Research - The Physics of Sound

The Harmonic Latice

Superstring theory

DNA is a fractal antenna in electromagnetic fields.

New Science: DNA Begins As a Quantum Wave

Om mani padme hum

Buddhist symbolism

Taoism > Symbols

8 Important Taoist Visual Symbols

Mayan Symbols

The Sikh use a metal bracelet, chakram, and swords or dagger as their symbols.  The bracelet with a scarf or  piece of fabric can be used as a grapple for climbing or in self defense with hojo jutsu.  They were taught to defend and protect their families and community.

Their founder was a police officer who had trained as a child with a very old policing group (in Nawa District) and in a sense they are considered a police community.  Most associate them to farmers or the textile industry.  There used to be a joke about halos, Frisbee's, and chakram.  Frisbee and discus comes from chakrams as a more peaceful use.

Some once wore chakrams on their heads over their head scarf as they were dull on the inside and only had an exterior edge blade.  Turbans were dew rags which could also double as a bowl for drinking water when out, a helmet, extra clothing, bandages, or holding medicine/plants, or patches for clothing, and in rope method marshal arts it has many other uses.  The small dagger refers to their general medical knowledge for first aid if someone becomes ill and needs appendectomy or other treatment, it also is useful if your alone in nature.

Chakram

Kirpan

Kara

Dastar

Ayurveda

Botany

Medicinal Botany

Nihang

Sikh Khalsa Army

Gatka

Hojojutsu: The Warrior’s Art of the Rope

The Nihang's nickname "The Immortals" was from life extension therapies; 3 methods were used.  I also helped equip them at one point. I remember the incident with the Nihang and Muslims at the temple in Amritsar, as I was present.

Other's in Islam that were legitimate wouldn't of deliberately shown such disrespect. But not all Mosques listened to my family even knowing our relation to Mohammad.  They did not disrespect me while there only the others.  I was able to calm down both but not until the Nihang made their point as the others thought Sikh's weak.

One of them did start to disrespect me but his elder(leader) stopped him and told him to quit it.  He asked why and he told him it was none of his business.  This is because he knew my family was linked to both Islam and Hindu's and he didn't want to discuss church politics with him.  I also had to break up the Nihang and their battle but had waited long enough to let them make their point and then said they needed to stop.

One of them wanted a special water gourd I had and something else.   Something others do not mention nor why the leader though not totally happy about things hesitated in causing me harm or insult.  Few knew the full event details.  But some did know and recorded it and that record isn't public.  Only other things relevant to them was made public.

Hindu symbology goes to things you wouldn't consider anymore and think less possible.  Ganesha as a face mask for diving or travelling high up.  Skulls on Kali's necklace pearls of war which later reminded us of re-purposing them for peace.  Pearls were a type of ship based off of us being closer to water than space.

The Vajra also a ship as were the Bramastra which you now simply know as the Astra ship since it was declassified in the non weaponized early test version.  There are other things called Astra and were reenactments of declassified projects(like NASA has done).  The Vaj Ra had a sister ship(Dor Je) but the Vajra also had an earlier incarnation as its design also mimicked a bolo weapon.  Later made as a brass children's toy.

Brahmashirsha astra

Astra (missile)

ASTRA (reactor)

Astra (satellite)

Ad Astra film(Fictionalized version about a Jumbo Space Plane/cruise Ship and what happens on it.  Based off of a true story.)

TR-3B Anti-Gravity Spacecrafts

(I'm one of the pilots in the old footage they are showing.  I moved to the Space capable version

Blackstar

for awhile and it's larger Jumbo Space Plane.)

Symbols of Angels can also be explained by flight and also police, military, and doctors, that all rapidly deploy.  Earlier symbols showed birds by a person or another object.  Later symbols combined them into a single thing.  Alot of mythelogical creatures are created by the same process and were linked to military or police units and their tales a fictional one or real ones altered by time and circumstances.

When people met in groups during war and didn't want to hear the shouting and death, they sang songs, put on plays, and told stories, or worked together on crafts that might be noisy.  These later became church hymns or songs.  Years ago groups made up their own for their own "church" or "temple" but after people compiled popular ones into books which all the groups started to share and use as they had cultural exchanges.

Some songs are specific and used as special messages(cipher text, color and music cipher) and others more personal.  Though people may of forgot some of the authors the people of the times agreed to allow others to sing their song and learn it too.

Some songs authors are remembered but current modern books do not disclose their names and there is a reason for it and in some cases its to protect descendants.  Some songs are of struggle and others about joy and love, they are the tales of many families that shared with their community or others.

We used to use prayer with an alert system that warned us if there was a serious issue that police or military needed to check or if medical had to go help.  We don't really use that system anymore though it does track large groups focus to warn of wars or disasters.  This lead to myths about angels appearing to help people.

Generally angels don't demand your belongings, etc its just common sense.  If one is hurt it might ask for help but usually officers have what they need and wont go bothering you for money, your first born, etc.  That is some twisted person whose a criminal and misusing technology.

No they aren't using the system to spy on you but they do pay attention to some criminals who probably don't like it very much.  Most of the time the surface area police handle their stuff, the space group theirs and the core group their issues but there are a few courts that deal with all regions and any weird stuff.

There also has been research into if souls exist, life after death, etc.  The devil comes from the word development, demon from demonstrate, and evil from electronic city.  Satan comes from the words "satellite N" or Sat "N" which ended up shot down after someone took too much weird interest in it to prevent a space incident.  It has a replica in a museum and is seen a a cultural heritage piece and called the Pejeng Lunar Drum or maybe it's the other drum they had as there are two different ones and one is from a space capsule.

The people hearing broadcasts off of it started going on and on about "Satan" because they heard its call-sign and it was recorded before the decision to blow up the satellite which was also recorded.  Years later a "pearl"(Dyson Shell) was named Sat N and it is what you now call Neptune(though not the original it is a copy of Neptune 3).  People had a similar weird response to the kite and balloon communication systems.   Once triggering a war by those that didn't understand the technology.

I see religion more as spirituality.  A few of them know quite well where the universe came from, how they came into existence, etc.  Most are science aware and savvy, but a few hate and shun it.  As such many don't do life extension, anti-aging, and often perish in some disaster. They equate technology to causing more trouble and don't think much about what learning and development has done for us.

There are the ones that would like to be a literal god in the sense of non science based things.  They want people to not believe their abilities are science related.  There are somethings species specific like how an electric eel can produce energy and some sea creatures are luminescent.  But in humans most types of technology that can do "magic tricks" is science based and either an implant, suit, or gadget.

However, these others literally want to be worshipped and obeyed.  They want to kill for sport and take for gain.  Some of them are obsessed with absolute perfection and frankly seem narcissistic, antisocial, and sadistic.  We unfortunately had to deal with a bunch of these people bothering churches and trying to attack things just because they had technology and felt like being bullies.  Even using materials phase and biojacking(using electronic harassment) to make people think they were possessed or ill with specific conditions.

Some of these people believe the concept of Satan as an evil cruel thing is really cool and want to be known as Satan, or a Demon, or they want to play superhero or mythological angel.  See my video explaining "Angels" and you'll see some example of the problem people vs reasonable people just working in their day job(but trying to keep anonymity for safety).

Some of these same problem people have been trying to radicalize churches, encouraging people to suicide bomb, commit indecent acts, and use things like invisibility cloaks to steal/spy/or assault people(along with electronic harassment).  Current police vehicles now carry Faraday cages to deal with electronic devices and wear more discreet things on their uniform including specialized eye wear and monitoring devices.   Watch my video on history of policing to see some of the equipment used.

The real historical people sometimes took their job relucantly.  Some really didn't want to lead.  They wanted to have their own lives, privacy, and regular relationships.  But they had knowledge or skills, and sometimes life experience.  As a result they ended up doing a job.   Sometimes people got weird and they would tell them to stop.  Other times they just went with the flow rather than argue with people.

While etiquette required they acted a certain way and handled guests (especially diplomatic ones) a particular way.  Often when that wasn't happening they tried to have what regular life they could with their own businesses, family, and friends; outside of administration or leadership.  I often dressed in regular clothes and went out to make friends, or do things.

Sometimes I was told that wasn't how a royal should dress or occasionally how they should behave but I wasn't badly behaved.  I did have a sense of ethics, morals, and responsibility.  I did want to understand other cultures and I wasn't a bigot.  I found some peoples attitudes a challenge to deal with(this included my brother).

I do believe in a something.  I don't care to fully explain it and I do also believe in science which is spelled out enough that most people can demystify by educating themselves.  However that is a double edged sword as while some people will remain decent moral, caring, ethical people, others are dangerous people that will abuse things.  Medicine and the legal system can treat them by they try to avoid both or mess with/play the system.

[steadystares]

Hard Reset

It is a wonder any thought or practice can yield fruit when the origin is simple indecision.  I have defined myself and my wants, without experience or knowledge.  Though I don’t believe direct guidance is integral to the development of self, I do consider comparative peer discussion come with that immeasurable weight.   A definite asset in measuring internal progress is vocalizing or making it a question in the sentient world, “is this it?!”   

I don’t know if i’ve ever been good.  Not good like, “Nah, nigga, I’m good”, but like a good person.  It’s strange to even posture a statement in such a way, but I sort of understand why I do.  I reduce a lot of my actions down to forms of good or bad that have no direct correlation to any other terms.  For example, good isn’t always equal to harmless and bad isn’t always observable.  In fact, like most people, I’m only ever really trying to observe my actions as good or with positive intent.  Maybe there’s an alchemy in knowing what I can observe has visibility not only to me but others as well.  Several years of processing and attempting to break down, “why” as it relates to the “who” I describe when answering the question, “who are you?”

I can be emotionally treacherous in relationships.  Or I have been in the past.   I’m very full and very empty, very wanting and very ready to deny.  Worse than all of this, I have brewed a passive deception with no real goal or desire… no intention, or reward, or reason.  This is the only true observable “bad” that I’m aware of.  In the pained responses of people I love, my absolute worst is given shape.  People who have earned all of my plea’s and desperate desire to give love, I hurt those people without intention, or without a goal or even momentary relief.   

That’s probably the shittiest way to be; having love that completely encases absolute indifference, nihilism, indecision, goalesness.   

I made a decision some years ago to begin to change this.  Whatever broke at whichever point in my 20′s needed mending.   It needed tending to and then to be minded after for as long as it would take.  Possibly a year or until I’m staring up at dropped ceiling tiles in the ER gasping my last breaths.  I’ve needed to be the undefined “good” I measure my actions against for so long it breaks my heart to think i’ve denied myself that role.

When the feeling of regret swole, moment to moment, my recollections of the terrible thoughtless things I’ve done, I decided to take better care of myself.  

You approached.

I was nervous when I held your arm and poked into your skin with as much care as I could offer.  I saw scars and heard the results of them tell stories and chuckle at my discomfort.  I remembered it being difficult to look you in the eye.  I thought you’d realize I was ugly and we were in a room I try to keep in my moms house and that my dissatisfaction with my life was gearing up to mutate into a desperation.   

I pricked at your skin and realized I never wanted to feel you as a stranger.  This was the most intimate I’d been in a long time and holding your arm felt righteous.

My desperation was going to be steadied.  You are messy with a great discipline and your own desires.  You want a family, and to be regarded.  You want to eventually be the matriarch and I’m seeing myself want to provide this to you.  I want to see you turn into this feeble old stick of a woman.  A grey ghost in linen nightgown thats been worn around the house, and run the wash so often that it has become sheer.  I can see my self populating that life with you as you casually frustrate your way to the top of rock wall or grapple with the obstacle course.

This are our first days.  

You met her, and she loves you.  I was so uncomfortable with how this would be.  I worry about jealousy and retaliation.  I worry about it all the time.  I’ve been in a steady place of discomfort in my own life.  A life  that had been a series of distortions... but seeing her take to you felt good.  I don’t think she’s stopped asking for you since then.  

Is this an adventure? I’m floating in this, and I feel ease and comfort.  There’s an honesty appearing in front of me and I’m trying to chase it but my pragmatism is attenuating my pace.  It is fair to pace yourself.  I’ve fallen for loves an allowed them to overlap and I tell you about how and why and where I feel my failures.  I don’t say that I’m scared of myself and what I do but, who wouldn’t be? 

I’m obsessive about maintaining a composure.  I haven’t any rituals, I just have a series of calculations I service with pristine tools.  I have my musts and mustn'ts and I think you’re a must.  I’ve begun to prepare my tools.  I must prepare my tools.  

You’ll finish your program, and you’ll put every bit of what I see to work and it’ll be marvelous.  This is what a unity is.  Through discomfort, displeasure, abstraction of self... when the gain of is lowered and pure electrical hum drops back you’ll hear unity.  

And all that has been muted by way of fatigue with squeal it’s way back to silence and you’ll hear unity. 

 And  we’ll sit quiet and hold hands and, in that grasp will be unity, 

I’m certain.

Thank you.

You got sick, and I had to decide not to panic.  That is something I can do.  I can decide to not panic.  And I can take my rudimentary understanding of a foreign language and I can find... I’m not sure what...  Asprin?  I can pay double, and find a way back to an air bnb owned by some hippie elderly woman in the middle of the night.

Thank you.

You broke up with me in the airport.  You got loud and I don’t know why.  I still have no idea why.  I grated my teeth.  I don’t like being made a spectacle.  I have not earned that in this place in this time.  

Thank you.

We’re growing and shrinking at the same time.  I cannot manage this distance and the disassociation I’m feeling.

This has been poisoned. Reading, “I”, thinking “we” and wondering “you” and “how” and “when” and what the fuck is a Julie?  I...  this is still exactly what I meant for it to be I guess.  A post to use to reflect and eventually to restate the “something” that happened.  That I felt “dire” at one point about something new.  Something happened that felt viable.  I feel really perplexed and foolish.  I’ve never felt so foolish.  I can’t quiet compare the feeling to anything.  I remember when I was a kid and I tried to make a kite with pencils and lined paper out in front of my mother laundromat.  I’d found string and tape and put the whole thing together in just over 30 minutes. It was small, sure, but man did it look like a kite.  I ran back and forth on the sidewalk for hours towing this string.  Being careful to lay it down just so that the initial jerk would provide enough lift to get this thing flying properly behind me.  

In the end I’d just dragged around some shit I hobbled together and found myself sobbing that I didn’t know why it wasn’t working.  

This is a constant theme in my life.  Sometimes I build the kite.  Sometimes I find the kite.  Sometimes the kite finds me.   But it never seems to work the way I think it might.  

[tisfan]

Discover your Soul

Title: Discover your Soul Collaborator: @tisfan Link: AO3 Square Filled: I3 -- Character is a Soldier Ship: Tony/Bucky Rating: teen Major Tags: soulmate AU, red string AU, fix it fic, not Civil War compliant Summary: Magic exists. Ask anyone with a soul mate string and they’ll tell you.

Curses exist, too. Word Count: 2,220 Created for @mcukinkbingo

Before you find your soul mate, you must first discover your soul. – Charles F. Glassman

Magic exists.

Ask anyone with a soul mate string and they’ll tell you. Magic moved the world to give them their perfect match, their mate, the person for whom they will live and die, the person that completes them and fills them up with love.

Curses exist, too.

Ask Maria Stark, whose only son was brought in to the world, barely breathing. Anthony Edward Stark almost died in his first few minutes, choking and spluttering. He uttered one mournful wail, not a baby’s indignation of leaving the womb and entering the cold, cruel world, but an old soul’s dismay.

His string, bound to him as such things were, was broken.

Less than a foot below his hand, his string ended in a puff of broken threads.

And it was bleeding.

No one had ever seen such a thing before. On the rare, and tragic states of soulmates having died before they could meet, the string was still there, indicating the broken bond, but it was black and ashy. The remaining partner would wrap it around their finger as they aged and it would slowly shrivel up and die. In some cases, a new string formed later, as their mate was reborn in a younger body.

This one, Tony’s string, bleed. Constantly, at first.

The hospital kept the baby in the infant care ward for almost a month. The blood loss affected the baby; he was weak and small and didn’t cry.

Eventually, they let him go home with his parents.

The wound clotted, but it never closed, never scarred over. The string remained brilliant red, tracing the line from the heart directly out through his finger, just like it was supposed to. It didn’t always bleed, as he got older, but if he was sad, or upset, sometimes the cut would reopen and he’d find himself with blood on his jeans, or on his desk, or eventually in his workshop.

Tony never took very good care of his hands. What was the point? People always looked at him, looked down at that loose, dangling thread, and viewed him as some sort of pariah.

Someone, maybe, whose soulmate had rejected him, sight unseen? No one knew, and the speculation was wild and varied.

Hard to maintain friendships, when people wondered. Harder, when his father was ashamed of the bleeding string, and the fact that everyone knew about it.

Tony decided he didn’t care and he made friends with the robots he built from kits and from people he met on the internet, where no one knew about his famous father or his infamous bleeding soul string.

The first time he kissed a classmate, the string practically hemorrhaged, spraying the unfortunate crush with blood.

Tony didn’t get a lot of kisses, after that story spread around.

He changed schools constantly to get away from rumors and speculations.

It didn’t help.

(more below the cut)

The first person he met who didn’t care was an upperclassman, his first year at MIT, named James Rhodes.

Rhodes and Tony.

Who became Rhodey and Tones, swapping the last letters of their names in an affectionate gesture that warmed Tony profoundly. He’d never really known the affection of friends, so he cherished the one he’d made.

The string never bled when Rhodey was around, either.

“Maybe something’s just wrong with your mate,” Rhodey speculated, and his speculation wasn’t cruel or unkind, just curious. And in some manner, reassuring. “Maybe they’re sick, or they get hurt a lot. It ain’t like this sort of thing is well studied, or nothin’. It’s all about faith and fate, and those things don’t hold up under a microscope.”

Tony wondered what his string looked like under a microscope.

Nothing, as it turned out. The string didn’t exist in the same time/space as things like photography and microanalysis, and Tony ended up getting a second master’s thesis out of speculative fate physics, while he was putting in the effort for mechanical engineering anyway.

Tony combined the two projects for his first doctorate, theoretical fate physics, and actually invented an entirely new manner of photogenesis that captured the essences of fate strings. Just after his nineteenth birthday, Tony made the front cover of Time magazine for the first verifiable picture of a fate string.

He looked, he decided, like a baby in the picture and he started frantically cultivating a beard.

Beards were wise, right? Inscrutable. Certainly not an object of pity.

Also, hot. Beards were hot.

Later, much, much later, Tony will remember the only time his fate string didn’t hurt. It wasn’t a bad pain so much as just a constant ache. If he wasn’t paying attention, he’d find himself rubbing at his finger, massaging the joint. He stopped doing that after he developed a flesh colored band to hide the string and control the bleeding.

Mostly.

And then, not quite a week before Christmas, his hand stopped hurting.

He didn’t know what to do with that information. It had never not ached before. Sometimes he could ignore it, but whenever he was paying attention, the pain was right there.

And suddenly it wasn’t.

He ripped the band off to study the pathetic length of psychic ribbon. It was throbbing; the end curling like a snake. Twitching.

The end swelled, like it was filling with blood, and then dropped, added another ten, twelve, inches to the length, until it was resting on the ground, straining.

What the hell?

He watched it, fascinated. Petted the string, poked at it. Took a photograph with his special camera.

Four hours later, the police came to tell him his parents were dead.

Six hours after that, the string bled feverishly, a stomach-turning spray of arterial blood. Tony cleaned it up, wrapped his finger. Pretended it hadn’t happened.

What the hell was a mate supposed to do for him now, anyway?

Coincidence, he told himself with a shiver.

Mourning, terrified, alone, he deleted the picture.

The Soldier sat in the chair.

He didn’t struggle. He never struggled anymore.

The string was wrapped around his wrist, several times. It had leaked out of the metal arm shortly after the Soldier had been awakened from cryo.

He didn’t try to hide it. He never tried to hide things anymore.

“Good job, soldier,” his handler said.

The soldier didn’t answer, he just waited.

“Keep him up a few weeks, I want him around for the testing.”

“You got it, sir,” one of the techs said.

“And cauterize that thing, before it bleeds everywhere.”

There was pain, when they burned the string. There was always pain. But the Soldier didn’t care about that.

Tony’s string started growing again, in the year after the Fall of SHIELD.

He couldn’t figure out why.

His own ground breaking research aside, no one still really studied the fate threads, or soul mates, or the properties therin. He was, his critics said sometimes, killing the magic.

“Magic that can’t withstand a little examination might deserve to be killed,” he snarled in response to that.

It still didn’t lead to another person, trailing along behind him for several yards like a sad kite. Useless, and he was tripping over it. There was, however, too much on Iron Man’s docket for him to actually get really into detail with his soul string. He wrapped it tightly around his wrist and ignored it as best he could.

First, arrangements had to be made for world security. Without SHIELD, without Nick Fury, there was a lot of burdens falling around, uncaught.

Then there was Ultron.

And Sokovia.

And…

The string kept growing. Twined around Tony’s wrist, up to his elbow, he ended up bundling it around his chest just to keep it out of the way.

Why was it so damn disorderly, too? Other people’s strings sort of melted away into some ethereal plane when they weren’t directly connected to the soulmate. They didn’t tumble all over the floor like a sulky yo-yo.

In fact, most people’s strings were well nigh invisible unless the person was within grabbing distance of their mates. Or, at least, from an outsider’s appearance. For each individual, they could see their string, winding off into the distance, in the direction of their other half.

Nice thought, Tony snorted, tucking an extra bit of loop into his pocket.

Secretary Ross was breathing down Tony’s neck and while he was beginning to wonder if he could, actually, strangle the man to death it it, he decided not to risk it. Not today.

“Of course you can quote me,” Tony raged into the phone. “I’m saying it, aren’t I? There will be consequences.”

God damn it, Steve.

That had been a refrain for a while now, and Tony was tired of it.

Having to send out his best friend to arrest his old man’s best friend? Officially, Tony didn’t have anything like that sort of authority, which is why Rhodey was doing it. And because Tony really, really didn’t want to arrest Steve. Things were going to shit without it.

There was something oddly compelling about the video feed.

Cap’s old friend, Barnes, having done a stint in the Russian military, or whatever. Gorgeous, sulky, long tangled hair and unshaven face, he stared up at the hidden camera like he knew it was there.

“This is what I was saying about making it worse, Steve,” Nat was complaining to Cap as they were being processed.

“At least he’s alive,” Steve said, staring back at his old friend. “What’s going to happen to him now?”

“We’ll get him help, of course,” Tony said, because that was only fair. “He’s… uh. He’s bleeding.”

There was a wet, smacking sound from under Tony’s clothing, like he’d stepped on a ziplock bag and blown the seal.

A rush of heat and wet seeped down his side.

Son of a bitch, so am I.

Tony bunched his fist up, as if he could stop his fate string from bleeding from sheer force of will. Why now, he wondered. Totally, epically bad timing.

The string was squirming, writhing, wriggling against him like it was trying to get away.

Barnes’ gaze went from the camera, over to where he couldn’t possibly see Tony trying to tip his body away so that no one noticed the wet spot on his pants, or the way blood was gushing into his shoe.

Fuck. I need to get out of here.

“I need to get out of here,” Barnes echoed, his voice a dark tremor against the air. Tony whirled, took a few steps, heedless of the bloody footprint he was leaving behind.

Look at him, trapped like an animal, Tony thought, his chest squeezing in sudden sympathy. Barnes wasn’t struggling with the restraints, but he was leaning in Tony’s direction, like steel drawn to a powerful magnet.

“Trapped, like an animal,” Barnes agreed.

Can you hear me?

There was blood pooling at the base of the restraint room, brilliant and red. Someone should die from that much blood loss.

“I hear you.”

Holy fuck.

“Stark, what are you doing--”

Tony took another few steps, then another, and his string unraveled from his belly, slithered out from under the hem of his shirt.

Touched that pool of blood under Barnes.

The world exploded in light.

The Soldier was on guard.

No one had told him that, no one had given him orders. They didn’t need to. He knew it, bone deep, blood deep.

The puddle had turned into coils and coils of string, tangling between him and the man. From the line in his heart, through the artificial arm, down his wires and servos, out the finger, and into knots and tangles, draped all over him, and then reaching for… Tony.

He’d broken out of the holding cell; nothing like that could contain him for long unless he wanted to be contained. Tony, Tony, Tony. Tony was clinging to him, sobbing with broken-hearted relief.

The Soldier knew something about that, too.

“What’s going to happen now?”

That was Steve. The Soldier knew him. A little.

Not like he knew the sobbing man in his arms. That song, he’d been denied well and too long.

Tony wiped his face, presenting his red rimmed eyes unashamed.

“I expect I’m going to be writing a new paper of fate strings physics,” Tony said.

“I meant, to Bucky.”

The Soldier bared his teeth at that name; Bucky came with knives and poisons. That name was pain. It wasn’t… safe to say.

Bucky? Tony’s voice was in his head.

It was. Who he was.

“We’ll figure it out, Cap,” Tony said. “By the book.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna like that book, Tony,” Steve said.

“Well, I’ve rewritten the book before,” Tony said. “With less solid information to go on. So… sit back, and watch me work. Don’t worry. I’ll…”

Tony stared at Bucky, his entire heart in his eyes. “I’ll take care of him.”

“And what about you?”

Bucky didn’t have to say anything. He pulled Tony closer and glared. Unarmed, held at gunpoint, the Soldier radiated threat and everyone took a hesitant step back. Message received.

“I think we got it, snowflake,” Tony said. “You can just… relax now. We’re going to fix this mess.”

“I know.”

[titoist]

From the high balustrade of the palace the Great Khan watches his empire grow. First the line of the boundaries had expanded to embrace conquered territories, but the regiments' advance encountered half-deserted regions, scrubby villages of huts, marshes where the rice refused to sprout, emaciated peoples, dried rivers, reeds. "My empire has grown too far toward the outside. It is time," the Khan thought, "For it to grow within itself," and he dreamed of pomegranate groves, the fruit so ripe it burst its skin, zebus browning on the spit and dripping fat, veins of metal surfacing in landslips with glistening nuggets. Now many seasons of abundance have filled the granaries. The rivers in flood have borne forests of beams to support the bronze roofs of temples and palaces. Caravans of slaves have shifted mountains of serpentine marble across the continent. The Great Khan contemplates an empire covered with cities that weigh upon the earth and upon mankind, crammed with wealth and traffic, overladen with ornaments and offices, complicated with mechanisms and hierarchies, swollen, tense, ponderous. "The empire is being crushed by its own weight," Kublai thinks, and in his dreams now cities light as kites appear, pierced cities like laces, cities transparent as mosquito netting, cities like leaves' veins, cities lined like a hand's palm, filigree cities to be seen through their opaque and fictitious thickness. "I shall tell you what I dreamed last night," he says to Marco. "In the midst of a flat and yellow land, dotted with meteorites and erratic boulders, I saw from a distance the spires of a city rise, slender pinnacles, made in such a way that the moon in her journey can rest now on one, now on another, or sway from the cables of the cranes." And Polo says: "The city of your dream is Lalage. Its inhabitants arranged these invitations to rest in the night sky so that the moon would grant everything in the city the power to grow and grow endlessly. " "There is something you do not know," the Khan adds. "The grateful moon has granted the city of Lalage a rarer privilege: to grow in lightness."

[...]

If you choose to believe me, good. Now I will tell how Octavia, the spider-web city, is made. There is a precipice between two steep mountains: the city is over the void, bound to the two crests with ropes and chains and catwalks. You walk on the little wooden ties, careful not to set your foot in the open spaces, or you cling to the hempen strands. Below there is nothing for hundreds and hundreds of feet: a few clouds glide past; farther down you can glimpse the chasm's bed. This is the foundation of the city: a net which serves as passage and as support. All the rest, instead of rising up, is hung below: rope ladders, hammocks, houses made like sacks, clothes hangers, terraces like gondolas, skins of water, gas jets, spits, baskets on strings, dumb-waiters, showers, trapezes and rings for children's games, cable cars, chandeliers, pots with trailing plants. Suspended over the abyss, the life of Octavia's inhabitants is less uncertain than in other cities. They know the net will last only so long.

[diamondsaregold]

Drake Walker x MC - A Playlist

#ChoicesCreates Round 24 Prompt: “Movement of the Stars” @hollyashton and @alwaysanotheroc​. A lot of the songs in this playlist use motifs of stars and light, so I was really, really happy to see that this was the prompt! As always, thanks to our wonderful hosts. Background Info: “His pain, his loneliness, is laid stark against the inky backdrop.” ✨  The second playlist for TRR I’ve been working on for the past few months, aka how I’ve been getting my feels out every week.   Click on each song title for the link. I highly recommend listening while looking at the visuals, lyrics, and analysis. 😉

If you’re interested, you can find Maxwell x MC here and Zig x MC here.

1) “Halfway Gone” Lifehouse An exhilarating alt-rock anthem to rocky memories and bold decisions.

I'm hanging on but growing cold While my mind is leaving ----- You got one foot out the door And choking on the other Always think there's something more It's just around the corner ----- Talk, talk is cheap Give me a word you can keep Cause I'm halfway gone and I'm on my way

Stepping into the bar that night, Drake is no less cynical than he was back in Cordonia. When he sees the way that the Prince looks at us—the waitress with the pretty eyes and penchant for quips—he’s reminded that this is not the place for him to dare dream of a future. Not in New York, and not anywhere else.

So back at the palace, he wastes no time telling us the truth: that this is not a land of fairytales. To us, he’s brusque, colder than the night air.

Inside, he’s suffocating. His rebellion against this institution of lies and gilded smiles allows him to stay safe, in a world where his walls keep all hopes out. Just the way he wants it.

2) “God Put a Smile Upon Your Face” Coldplay A guitar riff-driven, alt-rock song that twists and turns with the observations of a jaded mind.

Where do we go, nobody knows? I’ve gotta say I’m on my way down ----- Now, when you work it out I’m worse than you Yeah, when you work it out I wanted to Now, when you work out where to draw the line Your guess is as good as mine

Granted, we’re much tougher than we seem—among other things. He reminds himself that his watchful gaze on us is only because his best friend has fallen head over heels for us, of course.

But when he slips back into the tent with drinks in hand, he’s taken aback by our beaming smile, directed just at him. Questions begin swirling through his mind, all centered on this strange churning in his stomach, as the three of them laugh together.

After years of letting rolled eyes and offhand insults fester, camaraderie sure is a strange pill to swallow.

3) “Amsterdam” Imagine Dragons An introspective indie-rock tune for the nights we spend reminiscing and gravitate toward truth.

I'm sorry, mother... I'm sorry, I let you down Well, these days I'm fine - No these days I tend to lie ----- Kinda thought it was a mystery and then I thought I wasn't meant to be You set yourself fantastically, "Congratulations you are all alone." ----- Your time will come if you wait for it, if you wait for it It's hard, believe me... I've tried But I keep coming up short ----- No I won't wait much longer 'cause these walls they're crashing down

That night, we stroll along the sidewalk, surrounded by the soft glow of street signs and the echo of conversation. More bold than we’ve felt in months, we tease him shamelessly, until he’s tossing his head back and laughing heartily. 

When the palace comes back into view, the bitter twinge in his chest creeps back in; yet at our bright smile by his side, it soon dissipates.

As the night wind whips through our hair, Drake ponders what we might see the next time we look at him, a man veiled by a stony barrier that has begun to crumble, and what magic that future moments may reveal. 

4. “Holes” The Paper Kites An atmospheric, indie-folk ballad that rings with aching vulnerability.

Never did I find all the answers I’ve untied But then you always pushed the light in your way And your voice was trembling At the thought of “you couldn’t win” But it’s the only race I’m in, running strong ----- Till you did, I faded out of sight All my days and nights You never leave my mind ----- Holes let in the light

With his gaze lost in the twinkling constellations above, all of his past comes rushing out. His pain, his loneliness, is laid stark against the inky backdrop. Somehow, he feels strangely whole. When his shoulder presses firmly against ours, all we can think of is how alive this night feels. How we yearn to let this moment fade into infinity. With only the swaying trees to bear witness, we want nothing more to press against this wavering space between us. As we walk through the snow, hand in hand, he knows now that somewhere along the way, we set off a spark in him—a glow that leaves him craving more.

5. “little light” Lewis Watson An uplifting folk-rock ode to seeing the world renewed through bright eyes.

Staring at the clouds, looking for a silver lining I was caught in a cocoon but now you got me feeling butterflies Dreaming in the lows, I never thought I'd see this high ----- And all the plans that I've been chasing are always fading But ever since I found you A little light is breaking through ----- I was longing for the rain, you were the flood that made me overflow A stranger to my skin, but now I'm braver in my bones You see I'm shooting for the moon, you're painting me in indigo

It’s as if he’s floating on air, yet still anchored to the earth—with the purpose, and the beauty, that our presence brims with. As the weeks unfold, he basks in the afterglow of all our times together.

There’s no denying it any longer: he feels deeply for us. It takes all his willpower to hold himself back from sweeping us into his arms on the dance floor, to remind himself to look away after smiling for too long.

He prays that these golden moments will stay, for just a little longer.

6. “Stall Out” Mutemath A trancelike, alt rock track that brims with the apprehension of a moment, or a future, that could shatter all at once.

Racing on a faultline Bracing for a landslide Conscious of every move getting harder Has the race gone underwater?

I keep stalling out; I just can’t keep up There’s alarming doubt; am I good enough? But you keep coming around to convince me It’s still far from over

All we hear is the wind whistling through the open window, as we stare at him in disbelief. In pain.

After falling through the cracks of his walls, we’ve burned slow trails around his heart. One step closer and this distance may very well disintegrate into the passion that we crave every night. 

We have gone too far.

And so, he pushes us away. As he trudges out the room, his hands forced behind his back to prevent himself from reaching for us, for one last touch, he bitterly thinks of the dreams he’s learned to deny himself of. 

Neither of us sleep well that night.

7. “Illuminate” The Kite String Tangle, Dustin Tebbutt A stirring, electro-indie number to surrendering to desire and letting the light in.

As the words fade away, I still believe what your eyes say I still see you illuminate, as I drop my guard. ----- Time slows for the last breath While everything is shattering ----- We won't make it keeping to our own No, it's not easy Through the long shadow, you can’t see the road ----- Can you just let us grow?

Alone in the study, we summon the bravery that we’ve learned over the past weeks. The courage that we’ve found in loving him. When we place a gentle hand on his arm and lift our face to meet his, we have no request. Simply a question. Is he willing to open himself up once again to risk, to possibility? To finally let himself breathe, free?

Desire swirls through his eyes like whiskey. As he presses his mouth against us, hard and lets his hands roam unrestrained, fiery, we have our answer. 

He understands now; all along, we needed him just as much as he needed us.

8. “WALLS” Kings of Leon A moving, soft rock ballad to one man’s heartbreak and bare confessions.

I can get there on my own You can leave me here alone I'm just trying to do what's right ----- I could never point you out Waste of space in a faceless crowd ----- Oh, a man ain't a man unless he has desire ----- The western girl with eastern eyes Took a wrong turn and found surprise awaits Now there's nothing in the way When the walls come down

As Drake watches us twirl about in the ballroom, attracting adoring smiles wherever we flit, there is an undeniable heaviness in his chest. When it becomes too much to bear, he escapes to the cool night air, and attempts to catch his breath. Soon, we follow. In the minutes that we spend lost in each other’s eyes, he can’t help but move closer to our warmth. As he presses his lips to us and pours all his sorrow into simply feeling this one, glowing moment, he silently begs it, and us, to stay. But moments, as precious as they are to him, as much as he wishes to deny it, are fleeting. And so with one last desperate gaze, we slip back into the castle, our hearts aching with the thought of stolen touches and endings we didn’t dream of.  He sits at the bar until his hands turn cold. Until it’s finally time.

“Holes” is my favorite, favorite song out of this entire playlist. It just screams Drake x MC and that legendary stargazing diamond scene to me. I also wanted to take a moment to say that seeing all your lovely faces on my dash made my day. You all are beautiful, and I hope you all have a wonderful week! Now, it’s time for me to hit the books...again...😢

[marsmyf-blog]

Bonjour🌸

Greetings, aliens of cyberpace. You have entered a rabbit hole. Welcome to my area!

Warning: This rabbit hole is unpredictable. Go deeper?

Okay?

Okay.

Here you will get a glimpse of what is going on inside my ridiculous brain, which is mostly, — if not entirely, a mixture of both bright and senseless things.

You can call me Myf, — an abbreviation of my first name that came all the waaaaay from Wales, Myfanwy. I have another name. The woman who birthed me decided to bestow me with one more. Nadine, a French name that means hope. Together they form, “Myfanwy Nadine,” which means, “My fine one is my hope.”

I’ve been in existence for more than 17 years now. My heart has been beating since the 6th month of the 20th century in the Gregorian Calendar, but it was only recently that it has started beating for a person. Charot.

I’m currently in 12th Grade, studying Accountancy, Business, and Management at St. Paul University.

You’d think that at this stage of my being I at least have an idea of who I am and what I’m supposed to be. Well, sadly, no. With each day that passes I think my identity gets more and more complicated. It’s like with each tick of the clock I gather new data that adds up to the pile of data that have not yet been analyzed, increasing the possibility of my self-analysis to be a never ending process.

I don’t know how it started, but when I was 8, I already had difficulty with sleeping. I was confused on how some people can fall asleep so easily, while I was there contemplating on whether it’s a given human ability or there’s just something wrong with me. I would lay in bed and look out the window, stare at the moon, and think.

Think.

And think.

Since when did life get so complicated?

Who am I?

What am I doing?

I am afraid of the thought that I’m always doing something wrong, but really, who’s standards am I meeting? Does it matter?

The point of this introduction is not for me to make you understand the anatomy of my being, but only to hear my thoughts. I can not make you understand something that I do not understand myself.

My personality varies on the time of the day. My mood relies on the amount of clouds and sunshine. My perspective depends on the distance of the sky, — is it too near that it’s suffocating or is it too far away for my fingers to reach?

I don’t know if I want the world to stop or to keep going. The noises are too loud for my ears but silence drives me crazy. Commitments are scary, but not having anyone to hold onto builds my anxiety. I am an irony. My name is hope, but why do I feel so hopeless?

I am a mess of puzzle pieces that are all in different shapes and sizes, and obviously, those won’t fit the frame. They don’t even fit together. But maybe, they’re not supposed to fit within four corners and sides and borders. Maybe it’s meant to build a shape of its own.

I am a combination of excerpts. I will never be a clear concept. A pile of words that do not add up. A scatter of stars that cannot be fathomed into constellations. A galaxy of supernovas. Maybe one fay I’ll just, — explode.

I am not a constant person. I am a series of fluctuations. Always on the extremes, never in between.

I hate being in the middle.

I don’t like journeys.

Bus rides.

Walking.

Waiting.

Wondering.

My patience is like a bubble,— fleeting.

So if the finish line is not near, if the answers are not clear, I will not walk, I will not wait, I will not wonder.

Maybe I will never understand who I am, and maybe, that’s okay.

In 10 years…

I do not believe in plans. Along the way, a lot may go wrong. In life, you can not control the waves, you can only swim along, and if you can, swim as smoothly and swiftly as possible. Be careful not to drown.

There are a lot of possibilities of how my life will turn out in a decade. I have two eyes, but they see differently. My left eye sees life if it’s purely destiny, where things are not in your control, but in the world’s. I can’t see anything. I am sure that this eye have not gone blind, — it’s staring through an abyss. In ten years, there is a huge possibility that I did not make it.

However, there are more than a million possibilities, so let’s look through my right eye.

Through this time telescope I can see myself living a life that went according to plan.

My dad’s plan is for me to graduate with a degree in accountancy, and I will fulfill that wish. I thought, it’s convenient to walk around with a degree like that, because it’s stable, so why not just do it? It’s not completely my dream, but it’s convenient.

Ever since I was a kid I’ve always wanted to have my own clothing line, — that’s all I ever wanted. After 10 years, I will finally have it. I will work on it while studying college. I will finally find happiness and contentment.

In 10 years I would have travelled to my favorite parts of planet Earth, and I will continue that journey. I would have done things that I have only imagined doing when I was young.

I will have everything I have dreamt of having.

Finding love is unpredictable, but if you ask me, I want to find it along my journey of self-achievement. Before 10 years, I will be with a person I want to share my life with. That stage of life is the perfect time for marriage, — according to me. Like most people, I want to have a family too. A complete and happy family, — with two kids or three. Char.

My Real Choice

Honestly, I don’t know where to go, so I decided to ask my parents for directions. I was thinking of pursuing psychology, but I thought, a track that is based on pure interest will not get you anywhere. Realistically speaking, psychology is not practical. There are limited slots on the job. There are so many chances that I would fail.

My father advised me to take ABM because that track is a sure win. Walking around with a degree like that is already success, so why not take it. I can’t say that it’s my dream, but it’s part of how to achieve my dream.

College

My first choice was Business Management, but after pondering, I finally decided that I will pursue Accountancy.

Curiosity

It was only recently that I have learned about the existence of deep web. I read that the suface web, — what we use today, — is only a 10% of the cyberworld. I have thought of trying it, because I want to learn more about technology. I’m going to be honest, — I want to be a hacker. I want to understand how technology works, how it’s made, and whatever. I know we’re not going to be taught about it in school, but hoping.😂

Well, you’re at the end of the tunnel, but before that, I have a question.

If you’re flying a kite but the wind is too strong, would you hold tighter to that string of hope or would you let go?

Au revoir🌸 Till next time🌸

[fishmongeringstudies]

seventeen: cross waves, black holes, and the illusion of safety

i don't like earthworms. but the other day i picked up an earthworm that was stuck in the middle of a footpath that it was definitely going to get trampled on within the next fifteen minutes if it didn't get off of it and now i don't like earthworms. they're all right. they could be better, but they won't be. therefore neither will i.

for the last two nights i've had dreams about someone i haven't spoken to since march. this sounds like a relatively harmless statement except the last time we spoke she said she wasn't doing that great and i said everything just fell apart and then everything between us that hadn't been doing that great to begin with fell apart, so maybe there is something to be said about the law of causality. two forest fires met in the middle of a large clearing. one fire said to the other: how do you do?

today it was so hot all the skin melted off my body and i had to glue my face back onto my face with a toothpick and a paring knife and no glue because i don't have any glue. in the morning i went to the grocery store to stare at the dairy section and buy nothing from it. i saw five students from my school and recognized none of their faces, merely the blocky text on their shirts and the way they looked at the grapes in their little plastic bags like they were trying to calculate the precise trajectory of objects through outer space. there was a line at the checkout counter because it was a sunday morning and all nuclear families are obligated by law to go grocery shopping on sunday mornings. while i was busy pretending to be busy on my phone, a kid in a flouncy rainbow dress ran up to their mother in front of me in line. 'i can't find john,' she said. a minute later another kid in a blue striped shirt slunk past me, down the candy aisle, and back to rainbow dress's side. 'i found him,' rainbow dress reported. their mother ignored them.

summer is disgusting in the same way that people who will use a dirty dishcloth to wipe their faces are unpleasant to stand within breathing distance of. it's not going to kill me, but in some ways i find myself thinking it might be better if it did. on some days the heat is only the first of a long string of curses that descends from the sky like a kite-string loaded with bodies, and all i can do is stand there with my mouth wide open as if to say: spit in me. frankly speaking i'd be overjoyed if no one ever spoke to me ever again. maybe it's time to become the antichrist.

this summer i wanted to stay in the forest, but they wouldn't let me do that so i thought i'd settle for staying next to it instead. then they wouldn't let me do that either. gritting my teeth with herculean strength, i pushed a little red cart half a mile across campus to the other side of the world.

'are you okay?' my friend asked me this evening. that's the right question. but the wrong post. where are you looking? look at me. these eyes speak latin, baby. they're dead as hell.

granted when your sleep paralysis demon lives in the same hallway as you life isn't all sunshine and rainbows but it sure is quiet. i bought earplugs from daiso three years ago when the birds started building nests on the window grilles so in certain respects i knew what i was getting myself into. in other respects, i was wrong.

the world is so big. and we are so small. buy bigger shoes then.

if i need to leave the room i will leave the room. but this implies that i was standing in a room to begin with and i'm not a fan of enclosed spaces if i'm not the only living thing in it. i want lungs made of steel. i want a ribcage the size of saturn. i want to be allowed to stew in silence, but summer is hot and heat is loud, you know. heat is the thing screaming outside your window. ninety-six point five and climbing. how high will we go?

if i need to leave the room then i will kick off my shoes and turn around and walk straight into the forest and if anyone tries to contact me i will kick off their shoes too and then walk straight back into the forest and i will keep walking until my feet turn into grapevines and my blood to wine and then i will pour myself into a cup for the antichrist and he will drink me up and then we will be best friends forever. when i was five years old i was promised the world. but fuck, all they gave me was an apartment.

06.06.21

[aroundtheworldin18years]

SWISS SLEEPOVER AT CAMPING AAREGG If I mention Switzerland I imagine your mind is putting together a scene of a snow covered mountain skyline, chairlifts ascending skyward, snowboarders carving out paths in the snow and possibly an evening of Apres Ski, and in all fairness, you wouldn’t be wrong.  But what about Switzerland in Summer.  There is a completely different side to this alpine region that many never see.  Beautiful blue skies, scenic mountain passes and spectacular panoramic views that stretch as far as the eyes and mountains allow; and everywhere is so green and vibrant, the lakes as turquoise as amethyst.  Switzerland is truly a beautiful place.  There just aren’t enough adjectives in the dictionary to do Switzerland justice.

The bluest of blue

ARE WE NEARLY THERE YET Car packed, DVD’s playing to keep Lily-Belle and Matilda occupied, a few treats to keep everyone happy during travel time, and we’re off, our European adventure has begun.  We travelled by road and ferry from Northern Ireland to Holyhead to Folkstone, which is on the Southern coast of England, then our first ever trip on the high-speed Eurotunnel Shuttle, followed by a lengthy car journey through France and Luxembourg to our sleepover destination at Camping Aaregg, Switzerland.

Is that a crack in the wall

Goodbye England, Bonjour France

VA VA VROOOOOOOOOM On route through Switzerland, we came across a couple of Corvette Stingray’s parked outside a restaurant, absolutely gorgeous motors so I couldn’t resist stopping.  As I took photos of the cars, one of the owners approached, a huge cigar hanging out of his mouth, and he beckons me toward the car whist saying something in Swiss (I assume).  I thought he was offering to let me have a drive, but I couldn’t decipher his gestures, and as he didn’t speak English and I don’t speak Swiss, I smile, shake my head, shrug my shoulders and carry on with the journey.  I hint to my darling wife that one of these babies would look great parked on my drive, and I also mention that I do have a ‘big’ birthday coming up in three years, hint, hint!

Stingray Supercar

Very red and very fast

MILES AND MOTORWAYS Our journey to Camping Aaregg in a nutshell; we had a 2.5 hour drive to the Irish Ferries port in Dublin, a 4 hour ferry from Dublin to Holyhead, a 6 hour drive to Rochester where we caught up with our very good friends Graham and Sandra; we stayed for 8 hours chatting about this and that before driving for 1 hour to the channel tunnel, we were on the Eurotunnel shuttle for just over 30 minutes, then a further 7 hour drive from Calais to Lake Brienz in Switzerland, plus the odd half hour stop for toilet breaks.  Thankfully, not once did we hear the infamous phrase ‘are we nearly there yet’.   We still had a little under 7 hours of driving to get to our holiday destination in Spiaggia e Mare, Porto Garibaldi, Italy.  Before that, an overnight stay in a luxurious Swiss hotel on the shores of the beautiful Lake Brienz.

The beautiful turquoise Lake Brienz

MEN DON’T ASK FOR DIRECTIONS We arrive at Camping Aaregg, Switzerland a little after 15:00 and I (Daddy) have no clue what lies ahead; all travel and accommodation has been organised by Lynne, if it was left to me we’d never leave Ireland.  I have no sense of direction (I rely heavily on my car sat-nav), and I’m useless when it comes to organising travel.  I am rather well-known within the family circle for not being able to find a car park exit!  I’m very happy to do all of the driving and Lynne usually sorts everything else, it works well for us.

I’VE BEEN FRAMED Lynne attends the reception at Camping Aaregg and after a few minutes appears with a staff member who leads the way to our accommodation, the lady referred to the accommodation as a Woody Tramp, to me it was a glorified garden shed, where on earth was my luxurious Swiss hotel, with room service, and a spa and, and…someone has to be pulling my leg, no way am I staying in a shed, I’m not Bill Oddy!  I am half expecting Jeremy Beadle to jump out of the hut!  Of course, Lynne thinks it’s hilarious!  Lynne is obviously living in a parallel universe to me as she absolutely loves the Woody Tramp, the style, the colours, the location…the location I can’t argue with, the backdrop of mountains is breathtaking.

Woody Tramp at Camping Aaregg

A LUXURY SAUNA We enter the ‘shed’ and the heat is horrific.  From the outside it looks like a shed, on the inside it feels like a sauna, the joys!  Lynne informs me this is called ‘glamping‘, and I decide that whatever it’s called, it isn’t for me.  The temperature at Lake Brienz is unusually hot for this region, a barmy 31oC outside, and still rising.  After a ‘heated’ discussion with my ‘soon to be divorced’ wife (I jest, she would probably murder me well before I could file for a divorce), I reside myself to the fact I have no choice but to stay overnight in the Woody Tramp at Camping Aaregg, I am extremely bleary eyed and tired after two long days travelling, I need sleep!  I hasten to tell you all that this isn’t the first time that I have been less than impressed with my wife’s choice of accommodation, oh no!  It is a short one minute walk to the bar, so I dander off and console myself with a very cold beer.  Lynne and the girls unpack a few overnight essentials from the car, we are leaving for Spiaggia e Mare, Italy first thing in the morning.

Time for a cold one

Veranda and bar at Camping Aaregg in Switzerland

TIME FOR A DIP It’s getting hotter, 34oC, so the girls get changed into their swimming costumes and we head to the lake, it’s a mere 20 metres from our Woody Tramp.  The Swiss sky is blue with a few wispy clouds forming in the distance.  The turquoise water of Lake Brienz feels cool and refreshing; water that has come directly from the glacier mountains.  The girls enjoy splashing about in the lake, whereas I am content to sit with my feet dipped in taking a few photos and enjoying the view, it’s so tranquil and calm beside the lake.  The peace is soon shattered when a couple of Swiss fighter jets do a fly by, this continues on and off for about an hour or so.  They are amazing to watch as they twist and perform ‘dog fight‘ maneuvers through the mountains, the noise is incredible.  I tried to get a few photos of the jets in action but it proved an impossible task.  There’s a large inflatable assault course floating on Lake Brienz, a bit too far out for Lily-Belle so she stays close to the shore.  We are joined by a Coot and then a Swan and her cygnets, knowing just how protective Mummy swans can be, I get the girls to exit the lake and we return to the Woody Tramp to get ready for tea.

The girls taking a dip

Inflatable assault course

Swan Lake

FUN FOR THE LITTLE ONES Lynne came across Camping Aaregg during a late nights internet surfing many years ago.  In typical Lynne fashion, she saved it somewhere in cyberspace for future use.  I can see exactly why she put Camping Aaregg, Switzerland on our list of ‘Must Go’ places!  The site itself is relatively compact and personal; there is a children’s play area with a trampoline, small zip line, swings, roundabout and a climbing frame.  Directly in front of reception there is a giant chess board.

Boing-boing-boing

Checkmate

You spin me right round

Having a swinging time

Motorbike mayhem

Springy number 7

CAMPING AAREGG On the Camping Aaregg site, there is a small shop for essentials, a restaurant and a bar.  We settle down on the wooden veranda outside the bar.  Daddy and Mummy enjoy a well deserved beverage and get in the mood for Italy by ordering a large pizza!  Lily-Belle and Matilda don’t take long getting through the pizza and it’s various toppings.  As you can probably imagine, the facilities in the ‘shed’ are limited, after all, it is glamping, so we pop along to the shower and toilet block to freshen up before bed.

Don’t be smelly, use Nelly

Clean as a whistle

Insert your own loo and number two joke here

Watching me, watching you

WHO’S A SMELLY NELLY Who would have thought that one of the highlights of Camping Aaregg would be the toilets!  Lily-Belle and Matilda were ecstatic to find children sized sinks and toilets, they even had elephant and teddy bear showers, how cool is that!  There was none of the usual bedtime stand offs of ‘I don’t want to brush my teeth’ or ‘do I have to have a shower?’.  indeed not, both girls would have spent the night there if they could have.  After finally dragging the girls away, it was back to the hut to settle down for the night, after-all, we do have a long journey ahead tomorrow.  Aside from the heat, we were impressed by the cosy size and the sleeping arrangements in the Woody Tramp; you wouldn’t think it from the outside, but it’s actually a fair size, the hut held a table and chairs, dressing table, small kitchenette and two huge double bunk beds.  Lily-Belle and Matilda loved having to climb the ladder to sleep up in the rafters.

Bunk bed buddies

MORNING, BUT I HAVEN’T SLEPT YET The three girls slept well in the Woody Tramp and one of them snored the whole night, I’ll give you a hint…it wasn’t Lily-Belle or Matilda!  The combination of snoring and the stifling heat meant I never got a wink of sleep.  The Woody Tramp does have windows, but as soon as you open them, mosquito’s come in.  We had no choice but to leave them closed all night.  Back to the shower block to freshen up, brush the teeth and make ourselves semi-presentable for today’s journey to Spiaggia e Mare, Italy.

THIS KITE DOESN’T NEED STRINGS As we approach the exit of Camping Aaregg, Switzerland, we could hear the distant sound of fighter jets, but due to an early morning haze, we couldn’t see them.  We hand the key back in to reception just before 09:00 and we’re off, Italy bound.  As we leave the glamping campsite I see a couple stood looking toward the sky and pointing.  A pair of Red Kites riding the thermals, majestic and effortless.  I grab the camera and snap away, unfortunately only one of the photos is worth keeping.

This kite doesn’t need strings

WHEN IT COMES TO LENSES, SIZE DOES MATTER About half a mile from Camping Aaregg, there’s a magnificent waterfall nestled into the mountain side, I pull over to take a photo out of the car window, and in the corner of my eye I see a fighter jet coming in to land, we decide to see if we can get closer, and we can.  We pull up right next to the runway, a small group of photographers are gathered with an assortment of camera’s and lenses, I’m almost too embarrassed to bring out my Nikon D3200, but I do, and I add my 55-200 lens to make the camera look bigger, it was still like putting a goldfish next to a great white shark, I’ve never seen lenses as big.  The photographers start clicking away as a Swiss Fighter Jet makes its descent toward the runway, touchdown…really smooth landing.

F/A-18C Hornet J-5012

Mercedes Sprinter 313CDI

Waterfalls, natures very own tap

A rare glimpse of Pilatus PC-12

A LONG AND WINDING ROAD We stay and watch a total of four jets land, the photographers begin to pack up and leave and we do the same.  Our journey to Italy takes us over one of the most ionic mountain passes in the world, the Susten Pass.  A winding road with more curves than a pool party at the Playboy Mansion.  There are switchbacks, hairpin bends, steep climbs, even steeper drops (should you fall over the edge) and the most spectacular scenery you could possibly imagine.  The Swiss Army has quite an inconspicuous presence in this area, you see the vehicles, you hear the jets, but you never see any military personnel.  One can only presume they are using the Alps as their training ground.

The scenic Swiss Alps

NOT YOUR EVERYDAY PLAYGROUND The Susten Pass was built between 1938 ad 1945 and is 2,260 metres at its highest point.  The 26 miles of road connects the villages of Innertkirchen in Canton Bern and Wassen in Canton Uri.  This iconic road is a playground for thrill seekers in high spec cars and on powerful motorbikes, the pass also attracts cyclists from all over the world.  The challenge is to make it to the top and back down again, preferably without the use of Air Ambulance (or a hearse).  It looks like a real lung buster on a bicycle!  We pass several cyclists heading up the mountain, very slowly, and several cyclists fly past down the mountain, very fast! Fearless or Stupid, it’s not up to me to decide.  We just hope they all make it up and down in one piece.

Throttles and thrillseekers

1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Feeling the need for speed

SHOUD HAVE PACKED A BOBBLE HAT We climb the Susten Pass and stop where possible to take photos of the monumentous mountains and cascading waterfalls, we are completely overwhelmed by the beauty of this region.  As we began the drive in Innertkirschen, we noted the outside temperature as 26oC, and as we climb towards the top of the Pass, the digital numbers on the car thermometer drop one by one, 11, 10, 9, 8…we increase the temperature inside the car, toasty warm.  We stop at the Stein Glacier which is located on the South side of the pass.  A quick Wikipedia search tells me it is about 2.5 miles long, and decreasing in size.  Back in 1973 the glacier was a little under 4 miles long.  Such a beautiful place.

Stein glacier

TIME FLIES WHEN YOU’RE ENJOYING THE VIEW Our journey to Spiaggia e Mare began at 10:30 with a drive over the magnificent Susten Pass, the time has flown by and it’s just before 15:00…we haven’t reached the top yet!  Close to the summit we stop at a cafe; it’s a self-service cafe and the staff don’t speak any English, and we don’t speak any Swiss.  We point at the sausages, gesture x4 and take a seat.  The food was nothing to write home about, bland and expensive is about as much as I can say really.  We continue along the Susten Pass and very soon we begin our descent.  There’s nothing more satisfying or as blissful as descending swiftly (but safely) down a sharp twisting road in a car, well, maybe on a bicycle, but for today I’m happy in the car.

We continue the final part of our road journey to Spiaggia e Mare, passing through Milan en route.  It’s just before 21:00, the sun is setting and we still have 2 hours of driving left.  Lily-Belle and Matilda are fast asleep.

Sunset over Milan

WOULD WE GO BACK Well…Switzerland is a must for our family to return to; the scenery is spectacular and there’s an abundance of things see and to do, but what you can see and do depends on the time of year you visit, our stay was late June 2016. We would be more than happy to stay at Camping Aaregg in the future but maybe not in the Woody Tramp.  On site there are bungalows situated right on the lakes edge, fantastic panoramic views, the bungalow would be our choice for any future visit.  The Susten Pass should be on everyone’s ‘bucket list’ and we do mean everyone, such an amazing iconic drive.  We fell in love with Switzerland and just wish we would have stayed a little longer to explore the region.

LILY-BELLE SAYS I have always wanted a bunk bed so I really liked the hut, me and Matilda got to sleep on the top bunk.  I liked being right next to the lake for paddling. The assault course looked good but it was to deep for me.  The showers were fun, the water came straight from the elephants trunk, I would like a shower like that at home. MATILDA (age 3) SAYS The elephant was good.  I like(d) the pizza.

tip:  take plenty of wonga, Switzerland is not cheap. tip tip:  if you plan on using the motorways to travel through Switzerland, you need a ‘vignette’, on your vehicle windscreen, the cost for our car was £32.00 and the vignette lasts until 31st January (yearly) regardless of which month you buy it.  You can buy your vignette online before you travel, or at petrol stations (not all) and at border control.  We nearly forgot to buy one, do this at your peril…you will be fined well over £100 if you get caught on the motorway without one.

Travel Itinerary Ireland to Holyhead:  Irish Ferries  £294.00 (return trip) Eurotunnel:  1 car £85.00 Camping Aaregg is seasonal so please phone prior to visiting to ensure your journey isn’t wasted note: season opens on 1st April and closes on 30th September Date of stay:  22nd June 2017 (mid season) Tel:  (0041) 33 951 18 43 Email:  mail@aaregg.ch Woody Tramp Pricing:  Accommodation £56.00 (this is just for the hut) Adults:  £9.00 each per night Children age 6-15:  £5.50 each per night Children 5 and under:  free

information, currency and prices are correct at time of post

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All views, opinions and experiences are that of The Callaghan Possy and are correct at time of publication.  Photos taken by Andrew Callaghan for use and distribution by Around The world In 18 Years.

SWISS SLEEPOVER SWISS SLEEPOVER AT CAMPING AAREGG If I mention Switzerland I imagine your mind is putting together a scene of a snow covered mountain skyline, chairlifts ascending skyward, snowboarders carving out paths in the snow and possibly an evening of Apres Ski, and in all fairness, you wouldn't be wrong.