#and then the Scorpius constellation under the other knee

[sweetcreaturetm]

I want to get the Draco constellation tattooed so bad. I need it. But would I explain that… like ppl would be like oh what constellation is that and I’m like… it’s Draco… and they’re like? Like from Harry Potter? and I just have to say yeah? But no it’s like fanfic Draco… like A Big Black Sky Draco…. Like Chasing Dragons Draco.. ya know?

[sitp-recs]

Just a lil self-indulgent treat to me, @serpent-under-the-flower and the lovely anon who sent me a heartfelt message the other night! This list became way bigger than originally intended and it’s 100% catered to my personal preferences, but hopefully some of you will enjoy it as well. Here’s to rare pairs and the ~problematique~ shit we are all entitled to enjoy without owning anyone else an explanation ;) cheers!

Constellations by @gracerene09 (2016, Explicit, 644 words)

Written for the prompt: Draco has a thing for his partner's freckles. He likes to paint them with his fingers and his tongue and whatever happens to be hand

Boundaries by @shiftylinguini (2016, Explicit, 1k)

Albus is not a reckless man, but Draco makes him want, and what are boundaries for if not to be tested?

You Know I Have an Appetite (For Pretty Things) by @gracerene09 (2015, Explicit, 1.2k)

Albus looks so beautiful like this, bound on his knees and sucking Draco's cock like he was made for it.

Weather Warning by @sweet-s0rr0w (2022, T, 1.7k)

This is everything, Scorp had said earlier, still giddy from the ceremony. I love you two, you know that? He had one arm around my shoulders, tugging me into him, and the other around Rose’s waist. Everyone I love, right here in one place. He turned to me, then, pressed a smacking kiss to my cheek, Rose giggling behind him. I hope – Al, he said, ardent as ever, I hope one day you get this lucky. You deserve it. Everything you want. Everything I want. If only I knew what that was.

Make Your Move by @gracerene09 (2020, Explicit, 2.6k)

They both might be consenting adults, but Albus still needs to be the one who makes the first move.

Can't Buy Me Love by _Melodic_ (2017, Explicit, 3.2k)

It all had began so simply, but when had everything changed? A handsome young man, some gorgeous eye-candy, that's all it was meant to be. Draco hadn't expected to fall head over heels.

The Annual Potter BBQ series by @lqtraintracks (2014, Explicit, 3.4k)

A Carnival Mirror by @secretsalex (2017, Explicit, 3.5k) - cw: dubcon

Albus Severus is nothing like his father. It’s all those differences that Draco can’t stop thinking about.

To the Vagaries of the Young by @secretsalex (2017, Explicit, 4.5k) - cw: dubcon

Draco makes Albus an offer, and Albus takes him up on it. He doesn’t need the money, so what’s in it for him?

Fit by birdsofshore (2016, Explicit, 4.5k)

Draco needs a new suit. Albus is keen to assist in any way possible.

Aurora by @gracerene09 (2019, Explicit, 5k)

Albus didn't expect Draco to show up at his birthday celebration, but now that he's here…

Building Bridges While They Burn by @lqtraintracks (2014, Explicit, 5.5k)

He can't help his green eyes, fit arse, and lazy smile. So what that having that smile directed at me is my fucking wet dream?

Dirty Duelling by @veelawings (2020, Explicit, 6k)

Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want (Or — fucked up Dirty Dancing with wand fights).

Dirge Without Music by @writcraft (2012, Explicit, 6k) - cw: darkfic

Albus is happy because everything seems to be coming together. He is captain of the Quidditch team and his father is getting married again – then one night the bottom falls out of his world. Written for the NextGen Darkfest on Livejournal (2012)

Festival Night by Vaysh (2012, Explicit, 6.7k)

Scorpius is getting married, and Albus Severus is the best man. At the wedding, Draco is feeling old, fat and maudlin, watching his son take this huge step, so he goes off for a walk in the Manor gardens. Albus Severus follows him.

Potter Shots by mindabbles (2016, Explicit, 7k)

"I like them, the spectacles." Draco's voice was smooth and soft, and Albus' body reacted to that tone, pitched just right, every single time.

At the Theatre by cabinetcaligari (2016, Explicit, 7.5k)

In front of me is Potter’s youngest boy, blushing and nervous and deliciously shy. I’m itching to play with him a bit. To let my magic glide over his mind, see what he wants to hide from me so badly.

Something Blue by CapricornBookworm (2017, Explicit, 8k)

Al needs a suit to attend a wedding. Draco Malfoy just happens to be a tailor.

Make Your Own Bed by Bounding-Heart (2008, Explicit, 9k)

‘The best-laid plans of mice and men, Go oft awry.' -- Robert Burns

Dirty Blue by marguerite_26 (2012, Explicit, 10.4k) - cw: drug abuse

Draco cursed the worn cobblestone and the entire urine-reeking alley. He cursed ever having left his house that evening. Most of all, he cursed Harry Potter for having a son who had landed himself unconscious at Draco's feet, halfway to a lethal overdose.

Quiet Heat by bitter_Cake (2018, Explicit, 11k)

Albus has been watching Mr Malfoy for a while now, and his attentions have gone completely unnoticed. It's been two years, so Albus is surprised when Mr Malfoy finally starts to talk to him. Albus' response to the attention takes him completely, blissfully, off guard.

The Alchemy of Cigarettes by meshkol (2018, Explicit, 11k)

Something about seeing Draco smoking makes him want to drop to his knees.

INKED by @nerdherderette (2017, Explicit, 11.4k)

After decades of soul searching, Draco has finally found peace as a renowned magical tattoo artist. His careful life is about to be upended, however, when he’s saddled with a rebellious and all-too-tempting apprentice.

The Mark of a Good Man by @bixgirl1 (2019, Explicit, 16k)

After the life Draco Malfoy has lived, there aren’t many things capable of rendering him completely speechless, and he’s pleased to discover that even Albus Potter — writhing naked under the sheet of Draco’s bed and gasping face-down into Draco’s pillow — isn’t an exception to the rule. Draco's never claimed to be a good man.

One and Only by @nerdherderette (2019, Explicit, 19k)

Draco always knew his downfall would be at the hands of a Potter. He just never realised which one.

A Cautious Heart by tryslora (2012, Explicit, 19k)

When Albus draws the short straw at work Friday night, he has to make a quick run out to Malfoy Manor to have the somewhat reclusive head of the firm sign papers needed for Monday morning. But things quickly go awry when a magical storm blows in, trapping Albus with the man who has been a source of fantasy for a long time. Draco tries to keep his distance from his unexpected guest, but circumstances make that difficult when even the house elves interfere!

Euphoria series by birdsofshore (2015, Explicit, 22k) - Albus/Scorpius, Albus/Draco

A fire is prickling in the pit of my belly. I feel a little like I'm watching this happening to someone else. Al's sitting there, reeking of another man's sweat and come. He looks miserable and anxious... but also well-fucked. I look at his mussed hair, his bitten lips. I've never wanted him more.

Unguarded series by birdsofshore (2015, Explicit, 38k)

Staying with Scorpius for the first time proves to be more eventful than Albus expected, right from the moment when he walks in on Mr Malfoy shaving.

Staying with Scorpius for the first time proves to be more eventful than Albus expected, right from the moment when he walks in on Mr Malfoy shaving.

[etastra-moved]

▲  five time my muse thought about kissing yours, and the one time they did. / KYUNGMIN AND DAL BC THIS IS SUCH A SOFT THING..

@withincatalyst || five times… || dal → kyungmin !!

ONE.

     the first time eyes are laid upon the woman with silence on her tongue and something exquisitely unnamed cloaked over her like cloth, he is overcome with the urge to succumb to the sudden pull he feels, a desire to allow himself to fall with little concern for his well-being, as if he knows intrinsically she will catch him despite being complete strangers, despite only just seeing her for the first time ( for the first time as he is now and she is now, and that is a thought that should cause confusion to curl through mind rather than the relief, the chagrin, the anticipation he feels flutter through his ribcage instead ). it’s a foreign feeling, yet there is familiarity in the way her eyes meet his and an unbidden smile graces his features, comfortable and shy all in one go ; with little thought to the action, kyungmin moves to meet her, to let lips curve into a broader smile of their own accord.

     closer now and the desire to fall becomes stronger, insistent, and, for a heartbeat, whatever polite greeting meant to fall from tongue freezes on lips, stumbling to a grinding halt. chagrined laughter escapes in its place and he gives her a shyer smile, gaze falling away ( he misses her gaze already and it should be terrifying that such thoughts crowd mind so comfortably so quickly ). first meetings are meant to come easier to kyungmin now that he is a supernova, but it seems a supernova is no match for the moon and its pull ( her - her pull ). while he may be a star simmering beneath the surface, he cannot deny that he is enraptured by her presence, languid and lax as her opposite burns brightly in the sky.

     silence rests upon his tongue for one too many seconds and an awkward noise escapes, mind flying from the galaxies unfurling within to the now, the present, the woman who has seized his attention with little more than a passing glance, a cursory once over. gaze lifts to meet hers once more and all at once the rest of the world melts away ; the simmering of stars aching in his chest burns to a pleasant background noise, soothed by her gaze, by her mere being. breathlessness makes an appearance in already soft intonation, voice hushed in a secret shared by only them two, despite the world in motion around them.

     “hello.” i’m home seems to hang within the air, whether it’s interwoven in his quiet greeting or spoken to him in her quiet smile, and the desire to simply lean in and kiss her, to learn if she tastes like infinity, like moonlight and poetry, is shoved to the side, as now is not the time or the place ( the time or place might never come, and kyungmin is okay with that, if it means he can fall into orbit with this woman, whose name is lunar, is not lunar but something else instead ).

TWO.

     they are finding a rhythm, a comfortable space to occupy in each other’s lives, a familiar orbit around each other - kyungmin knows it is shared knowledge that both are more than what they appear as, and he finds peace that he has found someone like him ( and not like him ; something more poetic, beautiful, harmonious than stars are ). he finds he looks forward to returning to an empty home, to seeking the woman out, to settling on the couch with laptop perched upon knee and slim fingers fiddling with a pencil, to glancing over to see the woman in a pool of sunlight and looking for all the world like the ethereal beauties artists of the past have attempted to capture in an infinite moment.

     her gaze lifts to meet his abruptly and a smile is already curving upon countenance, still shy yet growing comfortable with each shared moment, each day spent in each other’s presence. he watches the way her own attention lingers on him for a heartbeat longer before it falls away to her own work, to the soft melodies and soothing rhythms filling the air. he hesitates for a moment, for an infinity, simply watching her in the depth of her work, simply observing ; he wishes not to disturb her, not when he can spend minutes, seconds, infinities, watching dal, but the encroaching deadline looming over him is persistent, more so than his innate desire to watch, to maybe touch in hopes of committing to memory the emotions unfurling within his chest.

     but that desire is shoved to the recesses of mind, as he has learned how to do easily each day they linger together ; she is the moon and he is the stars and while they may complement one another, the distance is far too great to overcome, even though all kyungmin desires is to wrap arms around her shoulders and pull her in close, hold the moon in his arms and feel at home. laptop is set aside carefully and sketchpad of doodles, of potential and scrapped layouts, is held between uncharacteristically nervous fingers ; her opinion matters greatly to him, and he wishes to meet standards she may or may not have, as he does not wish to disappoint the moon and all of her beauty with meager drawings as these.

     “do you like this design, or this one ?” quiet query, fingers flipping between two pages, layouts similar in structure yet vastly different in details - up close he is overwhelmed by her presence, by the gravitational pull that urges him to linger within her personal space, urges him to stare and lose himself in the violet and viridian thoughts that clutter mind when he’s so close to her. an already familiar urge burns through him when she responds, points out her preference, the desire to hold her close and map a constellation onto her skin with butterfly-light kisses and reverent fingers, but the desire is once more stamped out, head dipping in a bow and a quiet ‘thank you, dal’ spoken to the floor rather than to her ( because he knows if he looks up, he might do just as he so desires, encompassing her in an embrace to be cherished ).

THREE.

     the space between the sea of stars and the roundness of the moon is seemingly endless, infinite, in the vastness of space, yet between them it is little, nonexistent ; there’s a certain comfort that eases the burning of stars stretched out beneath too tight skin when kyungmin is in dal’s presence, the humming of supernovas threatening to expand diminishing to silence when he finds her pressed to his side, when gentle fingers trace a constellation onto her skin. it seems as if he blinked once and the distance between them disappeared, and he finds he doesn’t mind being so close to her, doesn’t mind the way roaring thoughts soothes into blissful quiet, doesn’t mind the way something settles in his chest like it’s finally home after years out in the cold.

     the space between them is finite, minuscule, nothing but cloth separating the two, nothing but nothingness keeping them from merging together and painting a picture of heat and light and unknown ; the closeness causes something to unfurl within heart, to race down spine, to linger ever closer to the woman, to seek her out even when she is pressed to his side like a puzzle clicking into place. with dal so close, kyungmin cannot help but let thoughts wander, let the yearning to learn the moon all over again with lips curiously dragging along bared skin, but thoughts are dismissed as quick.

     what they have now, what he has with her, is perfect as is, and the cosmos does not wish to ruin something so unique, so quintessential, so them, for something as frivolous as allowing himself a simple kiss, a brief peck. so he settles further into the couch, lets head tip back and sigh whistle past lips in content, as he has never known content as what he knows now with dal at his side and her hand interlaced with his own ( as he truly believes he will never know another content as this, as the completeness that settles over mind and heart being so close to the moon herself ).

     fingers are aimless in their mapping, soft and gentle, reverent, in the way they run along sensitive inner wrist, in the way they linger on the steady thud of a pulse, in the way they map the scorpius constellation over and over onto her inner forearm, the back of her hand, against the lines of her palm. it is quiet, a bubble encompassing only them, and he holds his breath, doesn’t dare breathe too loud for fear of popping the moment ; besides, words are not needed now, not when he has thoughts reserved for himself, not when she is by his side, not when he is hers as she is his ( in a way he does not know yet has always known ).

FOUR.

     kyungmin has accepted that he won’t hear dal speak but that is okay, as the moon speaks to humanity just not with a voice but with a presence, vibrant and overwhelming and fantastical, and it is merely the same with the woman. the first time he hears her voice, her true voice muffled not by the waters her heavenly counterpart commands but a voice that is crystalline and clear, something loosens in his chest ; breathlessness overcomes him as he hears her speak, a mundane sentence amplified by the mere fact it is spoken by her, a mundane greeting that sounds like wind chimes, like something he has been listening for since he became aware, like coming home.

     awe colors features, uncouples lips, and kyungmin reaches out tentatively, as if this is the first time he is seeing her ( and it is, as she has only been known to him as an individual with no voice yet endless conversations to speak ), as if the supernovas under his fingertips will sear marks into her skin in an array of colors with all the names man has thought of and with new names no one has thought of. fingers brush along her cheek, trace the angle of her cheek bone, the sharpness to her jaw, before they fall away too quick, too slow ; the desire to kiss her, to taste her words and her emotions swells over him and he finds he leans in close as if to do such a thing, but that would mean silencing her voice, and he cannot imagine doing so now that he has been privy to such sounds.

     body leans away with reluctance, subtle in the twitch of his brows, the way eyes trace her moving lips, the way he doesn’t move completely from her gravitational pull. dark eyes lift to meet hers and the smile to lips is burning, blinding, awe vibrant in hues and overwhelming adoration curling through chest. he reaches out, this time to encircle fingers around her wrists and squeeze gently, thumb swiping along the thud of inner wrist, the pulse that matches the steady drum beat in his own chest. kyungmin’s eyes flutter shut, not with exhaustion but with the desire to fully lose himself to the ebb and flow of her words, of the thoughts she can voice only when the sun’s dying rays have bled into the sea and has been swallowed by salt and darkness.

     “beautiful,” comes the murmured word, in a lull of conversation, in between conversations about songs and plans for the next day ; eyes are still shut, lashes fanned against sharp angles of cheekbones, but kyungmin speaks as if he has been staring at her for forever ( and he has, from the far reaches of the universe to now, when she is distracted and he cannot help but lose himself in her presence ). heavy lids flicker open and meet hers, and the smile he gives is no less bright but smaller at the edges, reserved only for her eyes, for her presence, for her. he mouths the compliment once more, an inaudible ‘beautiful’ that simmers with the urge to press all the words welling within him onto her skin ( but he hesitates, as now is not the time, as it may never be the time ).

FIVE.

     the nights are spent listening to her speak, hearing her entrancing voice as it weaves poetry and music in the air ; exhaustion weighs heavy upon eyelids but the cosmos remains awake, fighting the painfully human urge to succumb to sleep, as the nights are infinitely shorter and he wishes to listen to her speak for as long as she can, for as long as the night allows her to. lashes fan against cheeks and he’s on the precipice of sleep when gentle fingers run along sharp cheekbone, when soft vocals are reassuring that he needs to sleep, that he shouldn’t stay awake for her. heavy gaze flutters open to meet hers and he reaches for her hand, lets the slight callouses adorning fingers to run a path from her palm to her wrist, up to her forearm, before retracing steps and returning to her palm, to interlock digits and give them a gentle squeeze.

     he’s silent for a second, an infinity, warm gaze flickering over her own, over her features, tracing the slope of her nose with eyes and wishing he was doing so with lips instead. when dark eyes filled with the entirety of the cosmos resettles upon hers, reflecting the moon as it looks down upon humanity, he finds the desire to map a path with lips grows stronger now that he can fall asleep to her voice, now that he can hold her close and lose himself in her embrace. but he doesn’t, instead head pillowing against hands and lashes fluttering against cheeks for a moment, the comfort of her voice wrapping around him and soothing him, easing the tumultuous thoughts that tumble through mind.

     he reaches for one of her hands without looking, interlaces fingers within his own and holds in a loose embrace ; with the touch comes the amplification of her words, spoken as if directly into his mind than breathed into the finite space between them, and gaze blinks open to settle upon her own. for a moment he forgets that a response, a quiet murmuring of reassurance and fondness, is meant to fall from lips, too lost in the darkness of her hues, the life to her words, to form the proper syllables on a gagged tongue. but he remembers, after allowing himself another moment, another heartbeat, to watch the subtle nuances upon her features, the way eyebrows furrow slightly in the middle, the way eyes widen incrementally, the way ethereal life changes her countenance into something more.

     “your voice is my lullaby.” words are intimate, warmer than the explosion of stars cascading through his chest, and kyungmin would have averted gaze if not for the fact that this is dal, that he is as bared to her as he can possibly be, that he cannot hide from her gaze if he so wished ( and he doesn’t, as it is as freeing as it is exhilarating to know she knows him as well as he knows himself ). he squeezes her fingers gently, brings them to rest against his chest, where she undoubtedly feels the way his heart is beating for her, with hers. thumb swipes a faint arch against skin and he settles further into the bubble of comfort his bed provides them, shuffling an inch closer to better hear her voice, better commit to memory her presence.

FINALLY.

     the afternoon sun slants warmth into his open apartment, dust motes dancing in the ray of sunlight and pulling his attention from the mindless sketch he had been inking to the shapeless patterns they create, the way they seemingly dance to the soft melodies filling the air and to their own inaudible song. it’s time to take a break, to draw himself from scrolls of blueprints, from the open laptop depicting the apartment’s layouts, from the pencil shavings and eraser marks scattered atop the table. but his break lasts as long as his attention is on the dust motes, and kyungmin is once again turning attention to the sketch for a moment only to erase it.

     the rhythm of his work, of methodical inking then erasing then inking once more, turns mind blissfully blank, the cosmos lost to his work and uncaring of the world around him. so engrossed is he that he does not realize he is no longer on his own until family fingers, light and butterfly-like, run up his left shoulder and along to his right, where a hand presses and squeezes, effectively pulling his attention from dimensions and furniture to the here, the now, the moon in the afternoon.

     “hello,” comes the familiar greeting, soft, echoing to the moon hidden in the sky and to the moon next to him ; kyungmin sets the pencil down and turns to face dal, to smile down at her with the intensity of a star - warm, brilliant, lonely only to those who know solitude. he reaches out to brush hair from her cheek, to tuck the soft lock behind left ear, to let fingers glide along the smooth apple, the subtle sharpness of cheekbone, to squeeze chin in a teasing manner, a playful manner, a grounding manner. he’s ready to return to work when fingers curl in his collar and tug him down, silence resting upon tongue, sealed away by lips pressing to his ; calm settles over mind as he melts into her touch, head tilting to meet her kiss properly, to slide their lips together in a lock.

     the kiss is one, two, five hundred, heartbeats too short, too long, and he might feel embarrassed of the breathlessness trapped in his chest if not for the way her own features are open, exposed, with an awe that he feels colors his own countenance. he smiles down at her, chagrined that she is the one who fulfills the desire that has been following him since they first met, fond of the woman who holds him within her heart whether she knows or not. he leans down to nudge nose against hers, to press another kiss, as devastatingly slow as the first ; he has been yearning to learn her like this, and he has millennia, weeks, of yearning to fulfill. finally.

[ntrending]

On board the canoe that proved ancient Polynesians could cross the Pacific

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/on-board-the-canoe-that-proved-ancient-polynesians-could-cross-the-pacific/

On board the canoe that proved ancient Polynesians could cross the Pacific

In the 1970s the Polynesian Voyaging Society built and launched a Polynesian voyaging canoe with the intention of sailing it from Hawai‘i to Tahiti using only traditional techniques. The canoe, christened Hōkūle‘a, was piloted by Mau Piailug, a navigator from the Caroline Islands. The goal of the project was to show that, although no such voyage had been made for hundreds of years, ancient Polynesian voyagers had been able to navigate distances of more than 2,500 miles using nothing more than their knowledge of the wind, sea, and stars.

On May 1, 1976, the Hōkūle‘a set sail from the island of Maui. Just before their departure, Mau addressed the crew, telling them how to behave while they were at sea. “Before we leave,” he told them, “throw away all the things that are worrying you. Leave all your problems on land.” On the ocean, he said, “everything we do is different.” At all times, the crew would be under the captain’s command: “When he says eat, we eat. When he says drink, we drink.” For three, maybe four weeks, they would be out of sight of land. “All we have to survive on are the things we bring with us…. Remember, all of you, these things,” he concluded, “and we will see that place we are going to.”

On board, in addition to Captain Kapahulehua and Mau, were Ben Finney, whose job it was to document the voyage, and David Lewis, who would make a record of Mau’s navigation. Tommy Holmes sailed as a member of the crew, with the particular charge of looking after the animals—a pig, a dog, and “the proper moa” (a chicken)— along with a variety of roots, cuttings, and seedlings, wrapped in damp moss, matting, and tapa cloth to protect them from the sea. Accompanying the canoe in case of trouble, and to keep the detailed record of their position that would later be compared with Mau’s daily estimates, was the sixty-four-foot ketch Meotai.

The primary navigational challenge was to keep the canoe far enough to the east as it made the long journey south. Hawai‘i is more than 2,600 miles north of Tahiti, but it is also about 500 miles west. The winds along the route are predominantly from the east—northeast above the equator and southeast below it. Add to this a westward-setting current and the problem was clear. “Our strategy,” wrote Finney, “was to sail as hard into the wind as the canoe would point without losing too much speed . . . and then to hold on to as much of that easting as possible.” The main worry was that when they reached the latitude of Tahiti, they would find themselves too far west and would then have to beat back into the wind to reach their destination.

One of the biggest unknowns was whether Mau’s navigational knowledge would be sufficient, given that the route was entirely unfamiliar to him. “A medieval Tahitian or Hawaiian navigator,” wrote Lewis, “would have possessed information about the Hawaii–Tahiti seaway exactly comparable to Piailug’s about his own and neighboring archipelagos.” He would have known the star path, the winds and currents likely to be encountered, and the distance typically covered in a day’s sail; he would be sailing, you might say, in his own neck of the woods. But Mau came from a completely different part of the Pacific, far to the west, where the sky and sea and weather patterns were all different, and his experience covered only some of the latitudes that would be traversed in the course of this journey. This last had significant implications for the navigation— the North Star, for instance, figures prominently in Carolinian navigation, but below the equator it can no longer be seen. Thus, once they crossed over to the Southern Hemisphere, Mau would lose an important celestial reference point. Part of Lewis’s job had been to help Mau fill in the inevitable gaps in his geographic knowledge, and one of the ways they did this was by visiting the planetarium at the Bishop Museum. There, using the star projector, they simulated the way the night sky would change as the canoe traveled from the Northern to the Southern Hemisphere. “Once this background was filled in,” wrote Lewis, Mau “laid down his strategy for the voyage—the etak (the Marquesas) and the star courses to be followed.”

Leaving the Hawaiian Islands, Mau steered east-southeast toward the rising point of Antares, “a red giant of a star” in the constellation Scorpius, known to Polynesians as “the Fishhook of Maui.” Finney watched Mau watching the sky and the sea, describing it as “a rare privilege” to see a master navigator at work. Thomas Gladwin, the anthropologist, had observed that Carolinian navigators remained continually alert during a voyage. “They say,” he wrote, that “you can tell the experienced navigators by their bloodshot eyes.” Mau, thought Finney, “looks the part,” almost never sleeping, just catnapping from time to time. “Most of the time he stands leaning on the deck railing, or sits perched atop it, checking the sea, the sails and at night the stars.”

Although some of those on board were experienced sailors— Mau, Kawika, Lewis, Finney—many of the crew were what are known in Hawai‘i as “watermen,” meaning surfers, paddlers, and lifeguards. They were good swimmers, strong and at home in the sea, but they had never crewed professionally or sailed long distances. Just six days out, one of them startled the relief captain by asking, “Hey, we almost there?” In fact, it would be more than three weeks before they saw land again. A long spell in the Doldrums with fitful, shifting winds and periods of glassy calm—the sea, as one recorder of the story put it, “smoothed to a vast skin of heaving mercury under a copper sun”—only aggravated the situation. One of the crew members became nearly catatonic, while others retreated into a sullen funk.

As they drew closer to their target, Lewis began to fear that they had been pushed too far west. But Mau seemed “calmly confident,” and on the thirtieth day of the voyage he predicted that they would reach the Tuamotus the next day. Not long after this, a crew member spotted some white fairy terns. Then the regular trade-wind swell faltered. “An island lies out there,” wrote Finney. “But which island? And how far away?” The next day, the Hōkūle‘a made landfall on Mataiva, at the extreme northwestern edge of the Tuamotu Archipelago, less than two hundred miles north of Tahiti.

Hokuleʻa arrived in the Tahitian capital of Papeete on the morning of June 4. Unbeknownst to the crew, who had been out of radio communication with the rest of the world, the Tahitians had been avidly following Hokuleʻa’s progress, posting the canoe’s daily position on charts tacked up around the city and broadcasting updates in newspapers, radio, and TV. The Governor of French Polynesia had declared the day of their arrival a public holiday; schools and businesses were closed, and the harbor was filled with hundreds of paddling canoes, launches, and yachts. People had begun gathering at the harbor the previous night, and by the time the canoe arrived, wrote Finney, “they were everywhere, standing knee deep in the surf, surging over the reef, jammed along the shore, perched atop waterfront buildings and weighing down the limbs of shade trees lining the water’s edge.” More than 17,000 people—over half the population of the island—had come to witness Hokuleʻa’s arrival. On shore there was cheering and the beating of drums, then as the canoe approached a silence fell over the crowd, and a church choir lifted up its voice in a Tahitian hymn of welcome composed specially for the day. The effect, as thousands joined in, recalled one eyewitness, was “spine-tingling.”

From Sea People: The Puzzle of Polynesia by Christina Thompson with permission of HarperCollins.

Written By Christina Thompson

[lightsburnbrite]

Young & Wild: Part 11

Georgina laid in bed, propped up by pillows with one laying across her lap serving as a desk for her macbook. Scrolling through a few documents, she frowned. “So it looks like I’ll be able to apply for citizenship in five years.”

“Yeah?” Daniel responded from the bathroom where he had just finished brushing his teeth.

“Yep. I’m a legal resident until then.” She smiled at Daniel as he rested his knee on the bed. “The fact that I’m now married to a Danish citizen helps.”

Leaning over, he kissed her before flopping down and folding his hands behind his head. “How mad was your father when you told him?”

“He wasn’t mad, a little surprised, but not mad.” Georgina laughed. “It was Linda that felt like she had been robbed of the chance to plan two of my weddings now. I said we would have another one, a church one when all of our families would be invited.”

He lazily let his hand slide up and down her thigh and gave a little nod of agreement.

With a sigh, she closed her laptop and nudged it on to the nightstand. It gently bumped against a new picture, one of Daniel and Georgina (holding a bouquet of red chrysanthemums) embracing for the first time as husband and wife in front of their old friend, The Little Mermaid.

Turning out the light, she curled up next to him and sighed again when she felt his arm around her. “How long are we here for?”

“They gave me a week to see my doctor up here.” He repositioned himself and then kissed her temple. “I’ll go in for an injection tomorrow, couple days to recuperate, then we’ll head back.”

“Do you need me to take you?” She was still sitting up and took the opportunity to smooth her fingers along the freshly clipped side of his head.

He shook his head. “Marco is going with me.”

The mention of his brother made her smile. “Good. I’d be more than willing to rearrange my plans for you, but your mother and sister have invited me over for lunch.”

Eyes closed, Daniel smiled. “I guess that means Mom is over me not telling anyone we were getting married.”

“A little. It helped when I told her we were still going to have an actual ceremony with my family as well.” Georgina was content to nuzzle his neck. “I’m just happy to get away from everything. Even if it is just for a little bit.”

“I’ll take you on a real…what do they call that…honeymoon soon.” He punctuated the promise with a yawn, his voice now heavy with sleep.

With a smile, she softly snuck her fingertips under the waistband of his underwear, content to let her hand rest on his hip. “I know, Danny, I know.”

“So…” Daniel’s younger brother Marco sat in a chair across from the table where Daniel was instructed to lay motionless.

“Yeah?” Somewhat groggy from the anesthesia they gave him, Daniel elected to keep his eyes closed.

Marco coughed a little, wanting to fill the space left by their silence before starting the conversation. “Did you really get married?”

“Yeah.” Daniel tried not to laugh. “I did.”

Tilting his head to the side, Marco shrugged. “Is she a secret or something? I mean, I’m surprised mom let you get away with marrying a girl that she’s never met.”

Daniel sighed as he cracked one eye open. “It’s mainly bad timing as to why. When we were home over the summer she met mom and Steph. The three of them are having lunch together today.”

With his one eye open, Daniel could see Marco frown.

“Don’t feel left out.” Daniel yawned. “We’re having everyone over for dinner when we go back to England.”

With a nod, Marco decided to change the topic of conversation. Daniel closed his eyes again as Marco went on about work and girls.

He spent the next day doing almost nothing, feeling guilty that he couldn’t help Georgina pack but she didn’t complain at all. Once they were seated, their plane in the air, Georgina became uncharacteristically silent. Daniel watched her for a moment before taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.

Georgina inhaled sharply and shook her head. “I almost don’t want to.”

“You don’t want to go back?” Daniel rested his hand on her cheek and guided her eyes to his.

Her fingers intertwined with his, Georgina held his hand up to her forehead. “I miss being able to walk down the road without being leered at.”

He hesitated for minute. “Georgie, if you want to stay at home instead of coming back to Liverpool-”

“I want to be with you.” In her mind, there was no other option. “And I really do like Liverpool, it’s an amazing city. As much as I want to hide, I feel like that would be letting Preston win.”

Daniel bit his lip while he watched georgina work through her thoughts. “Heard any updates from your father?”

Now, she took Daniel’s arm and draped it around her shoulder before leaning in to him. “His lawyer filed a cease and desist and the paper took down the pictures immediately while issuing an apology plus they confirmed that Preston was the one who sent them the pictures. It’s kinda funny how quickly they’ll turn when threatened with a legal suit.”

“Still,” Daniel kissed her temple, “I want to punch him in his stupid fucking face.”

That actually got a laugh out of her. “I know. But, listen, he doesn’t know any of this. He said he wants to meet with me-”

“George, I don’t think-” He interrupted but quickly stopped when she held up her hand.

“I know. I haven’t responded yet.” She held his gaze. “Part of me wants to ignore it but part of me wants to actually see him so I can say fuck off, I married him not you.”

With a sigh, he nodded and looked away before responding. “If that’s what you want to do…I’m behind you whatever you decide.”

Georgina rested her head on Daniel’s shoulder and smiled. “Thank you, Danny.”

“Anything for my beautiful wife.” He put his hand on her knee and squeezed before he gave a little laugh.

Puzzled, she looked up at him.

“I was just thinking,” He kissed her again. “At least no one can accuse you of wearing ugly knickers.”

Despite the fact that Daniel was complimenting her lingerie collection, Georgina frowned. She wasn’t quite ready to find humor in the situation yet and he quickly picked up on that.

“Look, it’s obvious you didn’t pose for those pictures so no one can hold this against you. Plus, Chrysanthemum isn’t in any of them so I highly doubt that he has anything recent, including anything involving the two of us.” By now, he had tilted Georgina’s chin towards himself so he knew he had her attention.

Georgina sighed heavily and nodded. She knew Daniel was right but it was of little comfort.

“I know.” He draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. “It’s easy for me to say, I’m not the one involved. But try not to let it bother you too much.”

While Daniel was right that it was easier said than done, Georgina tried her best not to dwell and move on with her life. She was aware that she was frequently photographed and that people were starting to pay attention to the fact that she wore a large diamond on her ring finger.

Both Daniel and Georgina decided on having his family over to the house instead of their apartment back in Copenhagen mainly because of space. It was easier to set a table outside in the garden and let the dogs be crazy out there instead of cramming everyone inside. They both cooked, although Georgina would freely admit that Daniel did the majority of the work. After everyone had their fill, they built a fire in the pit and Georgina introduced the rest of them to an American specialty of roasted marshmallows sandwiched with chocolate on grahams.

By now the sun had long since set and they sat around the fire talking some, but mainly reflecting on the nice evening they’d had. Daniel looked up at the sky and was reminded of when he and Georgina spent the night on the beach while in Mallorca and she described as many of the constellations to him as she could.

He draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him. “So what’s in the sky tonight, Georgie?”

Looking up, she smiled. “Do you see those three stars lined up in a row? That’s Orion’s belt, part of the larger Orion constellation.” Georgina traced along the invisible lines that connected star to star. “It’s said that Gaia, she’s one of the Greek primordial deities, became angry with him when he said he would kill all the animals on Earth. She sent a scorpion to kill him but Ophiuchus reviewed him with an antidote. That is why Orion and Scorpius are never in the sky at the same time.”

Marco let out a little laugh, but quickly nodded, impressed. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve spent a long time studying creation myths from various cultures.” Georgina looked over at him and smiled. “Plus, it’s interesting to know how people interpreted things throughout the centuries.”  

“So what else is there?” Daniel moved even closer so that their hips were touching.

Briefly, Georgina sat up straighter to look at him. “What do you mean? Every constellation has a story, if not many stories, that go along with it.”

“I mean, do you have a favorite?” Daniel found himself sighing contently as Georgina rested her hand on his chest.

“Hmm.” She thought for a minute. “I don’t have a favorite per se, but I love how every culture, every country has it’s own set of characters and stories that have been around forever. Like Thor and Loki from Norse mythology or Baba Yaga and Koschei the Deathless in Slavic folklore.”

Daniel yawned as he put his hand over hers. “Just how many stories do you know?”

“For as many as I know, there are probably ten more that I don’t.” She closed her eyes and for a minute, thought she might fall asleep right there.

Filing it away with other bits of knowledge he had gained about her, Daniel gave her hand a squeeze.

Having taken the day off so she could take his family to the airport, Georgina returned to an empty house and found she missed his family more than she thought she would. It also made her realize how much she missed her family and friends back in New York. She wandered around the neighborhood with the dogs, looked around the house and thought about how she wanted to decorate some, but still found herself bored out of her mind. When Daniel came home from training, he found Georgina looking at fabric swatches and frowning.

“What’s wrong, Georgie?” he laughed as he sat down next to her on the sofa.

She shook her head and leaned against him. “Linda seems to think that I can occupy myself with redecorating one room at a time.”

“And?” He draped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed.

“And I’d rather pay someone to do it.” Georgina took his hand in hers and leaned in closer.

Kissing her temple, he nodded. “Then we pay someone to do it. Problem solved.”

She looked up at him before closing her eyes again and resting her head on his shoulder.

“But, I do have something for you to do.” Daniel sat up straighter. “The club has it’s own foundation and there’s a dinner thing to raise money.”

With a smirk, she mirrored his previous sentiment. “And?”

“And I want you to go with me.” Daniel nudged her gently. “No more of this low profile bullshit. You're my wife, I want to go out and do things with you.”

Georgina knew he wasn’t meaning to point out that she has cloistered herself in the past few weeks but it was still evident that it bothered him. If she was being honest, she was getting a little tired of hiding away herself. Pulling his arm back around her, she smiled. “Alright. You’ve got yourself a deal.”