#heelstone

[tremaghi]

Ad sidera…. benvenuta estate!

[garrydenke]

Revelation 4

[coldcomfortflowers]

Some covers for some fics i can't stop thinking about

Inspired by @zeziliazink Drarry Classics covers Made with this template by @saradika Some paintings I picked for the vibes and some are pieces of art referenced in the text

And, On The Other Side, A Welcoming Voice by @blamebrampton

Hypnotic Seance by Richard Bergh, 1887

Heal Thyself by @astolat, podfic by @lazulus

Portrait of Dr. Samuel D. Gross (The Gross Clinic) by Thomas Eakins, 1875

Do Not Disturb and Heelstone by @yeats-infection

Monoliths by Jonathan Smith, 1980

Presque Vu by @rageprufrock podfic by @seussian

Ib and her Husband by Lucian Freud, 1992

Lines That We'll Draw by VIII_XIII

Detail of The Alexander Mosaic or The Battle of Issus c.100 BCE

[wheretheweirdthingsaree]

Carhenge is a unique roadside attraction located near Alliance, Nebraska, designed as a replica of England's famous Stonehenge.

Instead of ancient stones, Carhenge is constructed from vintage American automobiles, all painted gray to mimic the original structure's appearance.

Historical Background

Carhenge was conceived in 1987 by Jim Reinders as a memorial to his father.

While living in England, Reinders became fascinated with Stonehenge and sought to create a similar structure using cars.

The project was completed with the help of family members and was dedicated during the summer solstice in June 1987. The site features 39 automobiles arranged in a circular formation measuring about 96 feet (29 meters) in diameter, with some cars held upright in pits and others forming arches above them. The centerpiece, known as the heelstone, is a 1962 Cadillac.

Specifications

Carhenge consists of several key features:

Circle of Cars: The main structure includes a circle of cars, with three standing trilithons, a heel stone, and additional stones that replicate the layout of Stonehenge.

- **Dimensions**: The arrangement is designed to reflect the proportions and orientation of the original Stonehenge, making it a fascinating blend of art and engineering.

Car Art Reserve: In addition to the main installation, there is a Car Art Reserve that showcases various sculptures made from car parts, further enhancing the artistic appeal of the site.

Social Impact

Carhenge has become a beloved landmark and a symbol of local culture in Nebraska.

Initially met with skepticism from some residents who viewed it as an eyesore, the attraction has since gained popularity and recognition.

It draws visitors from across the country, contributing to local tourism and the economy.

The site is open year-round and offers a unique experience for those interested in quirky roadside attractions.

The monument also serves as a gathering place for community events and celebrations, fostering a sense of pride among locals.

Its whimsical nature and artistic expression resonate with visitors, making it a memorable stop for travelers exploring the High Plains region.

Carhenge stands as a creative tribute to both the ancient and the modern, blending history, art, and community spirit.

Its unique design and cultural significance make it a fascinating landmark that continues to attract attention and admiration, embodying the innovative spirit of its creator and the charm of Nebraska.

[worldenough-and-time]

Finally convinced the Marauders fic group chat to read Source Codes and the reviews are in:

(fic is the Source Codes series by fluorescentgrey @yeats-infection - Do Not Distrub and Heelstone)

[news-locus]

Qualitas Energy buys Heelstone with 20GW US solar and storage portfolio

[forestpines]

Went to Stonehenge yesterday. Hadn't realised quite what a steep slope it's on #england #wiltshire #stonehenge #standingstone #megalith #neolithic #heelstone #englishheritage (at Stonehenge) https://www.instagram.com/p/CEBZJEnn2f4/?igshid=1bxukn0o7eko6

[mhickey001]

#stonehenge as seen from the #heelstone. Beautiful and thoughtful work being done to preserve this treasure. Powerful to see and full of incredible information about the site. (at Stonehenge) https://www.instagram.com/p/B1pGgQ5BfJR/?igshid=d0mf8vnlb0ef

[voghe]

𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑘𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑒 usernames

— 𝒕𝒉𝒆 1

@ doingoodshit @ newshit @ sayinyes @ insteadno @ bustopsawu @ didntseeu @ groundrunnin @ runeachnight @ sundaymatinee @ thesweetest1 @ greatesttimes @ greatestfilms @ filmsmade @ greatestmade @ uwantedme @ shouldveshown @ growbleed @ neverbleed @ nevergrow @ wesomething @ roaringpennies @ tossingtwenties @ roartwenty @ tosspennies @ poolwishes @ nonedefense @ enoughalone @ neverenough @ neveralone @ alonenough @ the1fun @ sweetme @ adventuresdream @ cooladventure @ owndream @ paintbynumbers @ babycount @ paintedcount @ makingnumbers @ greatestloves @ filmsloves @ lovesgreat @ greatestimes @ lovesovernow @ greatestover @ persistresist @ resistemptation @ flowrose @ roseflows @ roseflowing @ chosenfam @ famchosen @ rosechosen @ chosenrose @ wouldasweet @ wouldabeme @ defensetime @ diggingupgraves @ funthe1 @ theonechosen @ thechosenone @ theroseone

— 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒏

@ vintagetee @ newbrandphone @ highcobbles @ heelstones @ nothinyoung @ assumenothing @ squinsmiles @ lipsblacktick @ sensualips @ levisdancin @ kissitbettah @ betterkissit @ tattooedkiss @ smokehanground @ groceryshadows @ missthethrill @ comebacktme @ oldcardigan @ feltcardigan @ cardiganbed @ favcardigan  @ lsttheone @ hideseekplay @ givinweeknds @ heartbeatsline @ twentieslifetimes @ kissdowtowns @ kissinbars @ scarsstarred @ scarsbleeding @ bleedstars @ lasttrains @ trainsbloodstain @ peterlosingwendy @ peterlostwendy  @ fatherswater @ runningfather @ haunttattoo @ lingerwhatifs @ hauntsmoke @ lingersmoke @ timeshadows @ porchthrill @ curseyouline @ iwasyoung @ comebcktome @ standinglight @ missmethrill @ shadowsline

—  𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒅𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒚

@ rebekahstrain @ rebekahdynasty @ aftertrains @ noontrain @ sltbxhouse @ coasthouse @ billheirname @ billheirmoney @ charmingauche @ newmoneyfar @ newsmoneys @ holidayshouse @ maddestown @ rebekahisland @ btchpackcity @ champagnepool @ blewmoney @ blewballet @ americanmoney @ dalibets @ daliscardgms @ pacingsea @ midnightrocks @ dogsfeud @ limegreenbeach @ womenmadness @ badmenhabits @ shamelessreb @ ruinthing @ champagnenames @ champagnemoney @ champagnefriends @ saltboxfriends @ moneyfriends @ gauchechampagne @ tastefullyloud @ swamcities @ dalischampagne @ champagneseas @ cityballet @ balletdali @ shamewoman @ rocksfeud @ fiftyholidays @ badnesswoman @ freewomans @ loudestshow @ loudestseen @ timething

© V O G H E ≛ like or reblog if you use

[artemis-de-la-lune]

“no one knows how exactly ancient people used Stonehenge. if you look from the center through a northeast arch toward the 'heelstone', you'll see the sun rise on the morning of the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. perhaps this provided information to make a calendar for planting crops. some scientists say the stones are lined up precisely enough to mark the start of spring, fall, and winter, and to predict eclipses of the sun and the moon.” – 'universe', young discoverer series. every year, thousands of visitors gather at the neolithic Stonehenge monument to celebrate the first sunrise of the northern hemisphere summer, that is, summer solstice.

[sundry-whovengerslocked]

Triodia

author's note:

Post "we begin again," this wonderful series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1192402 Please go read it if you haven't!!! It's amazing. For Merlin and Arthur this takes place after "ever onward, through magic, through love"

This story contains about a million fandoms overall, too many to list. So let's just say it's an ultimate crossover fanfic?

Characters in this chapter include:

- Merlin (BBC Merlin)

- Arthur (BBC Merlin)

- Gwaine (BBC Merlin) [mentioned]

- Twelfth Doctor (Doctor Who) [mentioned]

- Arcadia (oc) [mentioned]

- Tenley (Doctor Who and Good Omens oc) [mentioned]

Many thanks to @onceandfuturehimbo , @shana-rosee , and @gravityshifter9 for giving me the courage to post my story, even if it doesn't make sense to anyone but me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TRIODIA

Where to start? If this was an autobiography, there would be no way to begin. I'm so old, lived so many lives, it wouldn't make sense.

But it's not for me. It's for them, just like Triodia is.

The Doctor and Stiles think I should write it not from my point of view, but from theirs. If it's going to be about me, then it should be how they see me.

With that said... Perhaps I should start with the here and now. Although "here" and "now" are relative terms, as you'll discover. I digress - I do that often. My mind doesn't work the same most do.

So. Not a Beginning, but a Start. That I can do.

~~~

CHAPTER ONE

Merlin could feel the magics of this dimension shifting. He had for a few days now. If he thought about it, it had been since the Doctor said Arcadia started building. That would explain it, although she never really went into detail about what "building a city" had meant. She simply asked if he and Arthur would go back to Greece with them to help.

He hadn't talked to her since they all arrived here, stepping from the time machine once more into the olive grove.

He was among the trees now, the fragrant fruits calming him. Merlin knew Gwaine would love it here. Or would he? It had been so long since he'd seen his old friend, he couldn't remember. He knew he'd definitely love the wine, though.

"I can't promise you anything certain," Arcadia had said to them, in between her hyped-up states. "I can't promise I can save your friends, that I can revive Camelot." She had looked so afraid, so much sadness in her eyes. "But I can promise you I will try. I will do what I can to help you, just as you have helped me."

In the beginning - that is, since they came to him and Arthur in Avalon - they didn't know if they could trust this stranger. Even when she had so seamlessly removed her own sword from the heelstone of the circle by the lake. But when they saw the console room once again, when Arthur and he saw the echoes of memories in that wretched room, when Tenley - a stranger then - gave them that speech, there was no turning back.

That speech hadn't left Merlin's mind since he heard it. It felt all too familiar, yet like something he had only dreamt the outer reaches of.

"Theres something you should know." Tenley had said, looking them in the eyes. "When you travel with Arcadia, the Sundry, whatever you call her, at some point she will tell you to run. in that moment you have two choices. Either heed her words and don't look back, saving everything you are and everything you love, or you stay and stand by her side. 

"And if you do that you will be in for the most dangerous, miraculous, heartbreaking and eye opening adventure you will ever experience. You will become someone else, and learn things. To see the world through the eyes of a child, to love and to trust like you've never done it before and never will again."

There was more he had said. So much more. But the truth of the matter was, she had already told them to run, even before that. But they had stayed. He and Arthur had stayed, and followed her across lands they had never imagined could exist all in the search of something only she knew.

Something she apparently discovered just before they left New York.

"What are you thinking of?" Arthur interrupted the silence, sitting next to him under an olive tree. He nudged him with his shoulder, a curious smile on his face. Oh, how he loved that face.

"I was thinking of that time when I pulled down your royal trousers in that official meeting," he joked.

Arthur looked at him in offence. "How DARE you bring that up again, you cabbagehead!" He grabbed him around the neck and lightly ruffled his hair, the two of them bursting into laughter for a moment. When they settled, the king looked him in the eyes. "Really though. No secrets, remember?"

Merlin nodded sagely, trying to move his hair back into place. "I was thinking about this supposed city that's going to be built." He hesitated, looking at the ground. "I can feel it. Almost like magical construction, rumbling in the earth." Arthur looked off in the direction of the pavilion, eyes narrowing.

The sorcerer knew that expression. "Still hard to trust someone with that much power, sire?" He asked softly.

He clenched his jaw in response, trauma still sewn into the fabric of his soul, even with the magic in his veins. "I trust her, because you do. I just don't understand."

"For the first time in a long while, I don't either."

[katherynefromphilly]

Whoso pulleth this sword from the heelstone of the Stone Circle of Avalon shall rightwise get 50p off a latte at the Avalon Cafe.

[yeats-infection]

@sqvalors tagged me in a lil writing meme... if you’d like to participate please do and tag me! 

ao3 name: fluorescentgrey but i also post some things as drglass (dr. glass is the second song on the fluorescent grey EP by deerhunter, so if i make another pseud it will be likenew, then washoff, etc.) 

fandoms: about two thirds of my fics are harry potter or star wars but there are a lot of random little goodies. currently i have shifted into the terror (2018) mode. 

number of fics: 59 right now... i will throw a party when i get to 69... 

fic i spent the most time on: this is funny because some of these technically took me like six months or more of working on them extremely intermittently... namely, bone machine. the series in the garden has taken me the most time generally... and in that, minuet did take me several months of working really hard while i had a schedule / commute that was not conducive to having a creative practice... 

fic i spent the least amount of time on: hilariously, literally my most popular fic by ninety miles, the witcher PWP that i wrote out of spite in two or three hours. 

longest fic: the source codes series... particularly heelstone which is 102k. i wrote these two stories in a single summer like a crazy person and i hate talking about them because i find them WAY too gooey. honestly, that’s why they are so long. it’s all the gooeyness!!!!!! 

shortest fic: yes, the answer is the witcher porn again (this silly thing is going to be the answer for many other questions in this little meme but i’m just going to stop talking about it while i’m ahead). the west end is just about 50 words longer and is much better and is a much better and more interesting story. 

most hits: we’re just going to pretend it’s sex and dying in high society, which has the second most hits. this is certainly due to the fact that @wolfstarwarehouse hypes this story a lot for which i am endlessly grateful! 

most kudos: recovery position has the second most kudos so let’s go with that one! i have been very touched by the response to this story, though i do personally like the sequel beachcoma a little more... i understand why not everyone wants to read it because it is a little more bittersweet. but it also comes from my soul. 

most comment threads: the two stories in the source codes series are leading here, because i only posted two chapters at a time so that i would get maximal validation, lol. 

most bookmarks: in order to talk about a story i haven’t talked about yet, the rosary has the fourth-most. i think this fic is truly my r/s swan song... i said everything i wanted to say and did everything i wanted to do. it’s a really good mystery/noir story that i didn’t think i could pull off until i did! and i love the OCs in it who have sort of manifested these secret headcanons for me that i may expostulate upon someday. thank you to @piovascosimo for the inspiration to write it. 

total word count: 1,000,478. lol! 

favorite fic i wrote: cannot possibly choose but probably the top five in order of date posted are: desperado, a handful of dust, doom town, beachcoma, jump into the fire

fic i’d rewrite / expand on: i already said all of source codes because it’s way too gooey, i also could make hard time killing floor blues a lot tighter, and a memoir of the flesh deserves a way better ending because i was rushing to make the yuletide deadline...

share a bit of a WIP: i was trying for a while to write a band of brothers AU where they are vietnam vets who start growing cannabis... based on the steve earle song “copperhead road.” this could have been SO good but the plot was too huge and unwieldy so i gave up. my roommate is obsessed with this idea and keeps asking me how it’s going so i may yet finish. but there’s a bit below the cut.

The knock at the door in the night was a sharp shock, bright as lightning, that sent them both back to Khe Sanh and before. Nix ducked. Dick went behind the doorframe. They kept low into the kitchen, where Nix took his old officer’s pistol out from where he kept it hidden behind the fridge. Then they went to the door, keeping to the edges of the hallways.

On the porch was Liebgott. He could have made his own way in likely right onto the couch without either of them noticing, so it was something that he had knocked on the goddamn door. It was particularly something given that none of the boys from Easy should have known about the grow operation, or even about Dick’s farm, being as Dick’s address on file at the V.A. was a post office box in town and Nix’s was still in Jersey. These considerations were nil to somebody who had spent the better part of five years in the bush of Vietnam. He took a last draw from his cigarette and put it out against the rubber sole of his boot, then he put the butt in his pocket. As far as Nix knew, he hadn’t said a word since January 1970.  

“Joe,” said Dick diplomatically. He put his hand out and Liebgott took it. Then he took Nix’s. He had handsome dark eyes, but they were full of a wall. You could tell he saw you, but it was like nothing followed the necessary channels to the brain to spur emotional response. It had been like this even while he was still talking, and after a while you got used to it.

“You comin' in,” said Nix, knowing he probably would even if he wasn’t invited.

Inside, they all three sat at the kitchen table in silence nobody was about to break. Finally Dick got up and went to the drawer where they kept the rollies and their share of the product. He passed a sheaf of papers and a film canister full of bud to Liebgott across the table. Nix understood as well as Dick apparently did that there would be no getting anything over on this kid, who had eyes in the back and sides of his head. He’d probably had a nice tour of the property before coming inside. “You hungry, son,” Dick said.

Liebgott shook his head. He extracted one of the buds from the canister and inspected it. They did look mighty good if Nix said so himself. They looked artful in Liebgott’s hand. There were black scabs across his knuckles and a dark rime of filth under those fingernails which still existed. He seemed satisfied enough with what he saw to take a paper out of the sheaf and start shredding the flower into it.

“Captain Nixon calls it Easy Diesel,” said Dick, like he was trying to pretend it wasn’t the funniest thing in the world.

Liebgott looked up and a smile flashed across his face like the savage golden light of a flare falling over the far hills. His smile was sort of brutal, like the edge of a knife in a barfight, or like a seething animal. Luckily it went away as quickly as it had come. He rolled the joint with a quick grace and lit the business end with his old silver Zippo Nixon hadn’t seen since the war. There was a skull engraved on one side and on the other it read IF YOU ARE RECOVERING MY BODY, FUCK YOU.

“I don’t know how you found us, Joe,” Dick said thoughtfully. “You don’t have to… tell us. But we ain’t exactly keen to have just anybody here.” He paused and looked quickly to Nix, who tried to make it abundantly clear by means of eyebrows that he wasn’t sure they ought to go down this road, wherever it was leading. Dick ignored him. Liebgott was watching them, fully understanding their attempted clandestine exchange. “We ain’t exactly keen to have the DEA here,” Dick said at last.

The cherry at the end of the joint atomized with a crackling hiss. Liebgott looked between Dick and Nix with extreme seriousness sullied only by his exhaling a dignified white cloud out his nose. Then he nodded, once, curtly, demonstrating he understood his orders as they had been relayed.

Nix flashed Dick what he thought was a what have you done type look. But Dick looked totally unbothered. He should have gone into this business years ago for how violently unflappable he was. He said to Liebgott, “I’ll get some blankets and you can make up the couch.”

Liebgott shook his head to say no need. He got up, careful not to scrape the chair against the floor, shook each of their hands again, and in less than a minute’s time he was back out the door with nothing more than what he’d come in with except the joint.

Nix and Dick, on the porch, listening to the crickets, watched him disappear into the darkness.

“Are we hallucinating,” said Nix eventually.

“I sure as hell hope not,” Dick replied. “We’ve got to ship all that product or we’ll starve.”

-

In the morning Nix was in the field, inspecting the plants. Liebgott was standing there at his quarter for god knew how long before he cleared his throat and Nix jumped about six feet in the air. There was a smirk shifting across Liebgott’s face that he would have been better about hiding when Nix had been his commanding officer. He looked like he hadn't slept. Back over there he had looked like that a lot, but it had been different, because of all the uppers they were taking. He cocked his head back over toward the long driveway and then he was off across the dew-wet grass which had already soaked through the hems of his canvas pants and his destroyed shoes.

Nix followed, like a duckling behind a hen. Liebgott still walked as though there were eyes in all sides of his head quickly processing information as he moved. Nix doubted you ever lost that kind of skill, even if in the real world it made you look like a mental patient. He caught up so they could walk side by side through the dew-wet grass. “What did you think,” he asked Liebgott.

Liebgott passed Nix the universal sign of furrowed brow that meant please clarify.

Nix gestured with pinched fingers to his own mouth as though Liebgott were also deaf. “The grass.”

He shaped his hand into an a-ok sign.

“You get any sleep?”

He nodded an infinitesimal nod, like the answer was a secret just for Nix to know.

“Well if you think it could be better just tell me how.”

Nix had had a high school friend whose sister was deaf from scarlet fever and whom he had watched on occasion communicate with her by means of sign language. Early on, back over there, he had sent off to command for a book, but by the time it came he understood it wasn’t that Liebgott couldn’t speak, he just didn’t want to. It was something like how people’s hair supposedly turned white if they witnessed some evil thing, or how people became ascetics in the name of god. If you were really fucked up on drugs or fear or otherwise, or if the natural magical thinking from childhood hadn’t been fully beaten out of you, you might have seen it as the sacrifice he had given to the forest for letting him out without a scratch so many goddamn times. It had been a bit of a trial to explain this to Spiers, who was practical almost to a fault, sometimes.

Liebgott showed another a-ok sign. Then he did a thumbs up which Nix knew meant it was good.

All in all it was smart. If he was still talking, Nix might have asked him, what have you been up to? You been sleeping on the street? You been to the V.A.? What did they tell you? And the answer would’ve been nothing good. Instead they just walked in the cool grass together in the sunshine and the morning was beautiful, and the air was sweet. It was all lovely until Liebgott had to physically stop him, laughing, somehow silently but also hysterically, from stepping right onto the razor-thin tripwire stretched invisibly across the dark gravel.

In the kitchen, Dick was doing the numbers. He took his glasses off when Nix came in and put the coffee on. “He learned a thing or two from Charlie,” Nix said, leaning against the counters.

“Who, Joe?”

“Our driveway is thoroughly ratfucked.”

“Hmm,” said Dick. He put the glasses back on and turned back to the accounting book. He was going to do this whole thing as above board as was humanly possible. The vivid daylight came through the window and struck the lens of his unstylish Ray-Bans and threw a kind of prism of color upon the white paper and the chicken-scratch sums. Nix felt like maybe this was something you would paint if you had the necessary implements and artistic ability. “Maybe we should see if we can get any more help.”

-

He was mildly ashamed to say it, but the doc had always kind of creeped Nix out. He imagined a hypothetical conversation with Dick, who he knew loved the kid, almost like a son: Listen, don’t get me wrong, he’s a good kid, I owe him my life, yadda yadda. But either he’s dropped the brown acid one too many times or the voodoo exorcism went FUBAR.

The doc had arrived on the farm on the heels of Sunshine and Rainbows, aka Mr. Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed, aka one Edward “Babe” Heffron. Nix had written Babe in South Philly, being as he was a connoisseur of bud and once upon a time had been famed among their company for smoking anything anyone put in his hand, often to his own detriment. The operation was getting big enough that Nix needed another pair of hands, other than Liebgott, of course, who was still fortifying the long driveway whilst giving away his cover by playing Led Zeppelin IV as loudly as was possible. It was a tough calculation, because Babe was a genius of pot, but he couldn’t keep a damn secret, and lo and behold he had dragged along with him a dark shadow in the human form of Eugene Roe. They came up the driveway in a big old Ford pickup that rattled its rust off in the potholes. Liebgott had dismantled the traps specially for their arrival when they had called from Williamsport to say they were an hour out.

“I figured we could use a medical professional to lend some credibility to the operation,” said Babe thoughtfully, sparking a joint on the porch over sweating jam jars of iced tea.

Roe snorted or something but it wasn’t really a normal person’s self-effacing laugh. Winters clapped his back. Nixon knew Roe had dropped out of medical school after two years but there was no need to say anything. Everyone knew that. Now he was working construction and Babe claimed to be working as a mechanic in a garage, but this seemed suspect given the state of the car they had driven up in.

“Well we sure as hell are glad you boys are here,” said Dick magnanimously.

Babe exhaled an opaque cloud that rivaled Nix’s own father’s ability with a stogie. “Can we see the bush?”

They went out all together to the field and ducked between the rows of corn. Babe knelt in the soil. It was damp with dew and quiet in here. It would have been almost like over there except it smelled good. “What’s the cross,” Babe said, inspecting the plants.

“It’s an indica blend…”

“Well, I can tell that,” he said.

“So you’re an expert on the plant now too?”

“I’ve just smoked an awful lot of joints in my life, Captain Nixon.”

Roe snorted again. When they all looked to him he said, “You said in the letter there was some kind of altruistic reason for all this.”

“It’s medicine, Gene,” Babe said gently, but also like they had had this conversation thirty thousand times. Nix filed away for later the intimation that Roe had read the letter he’d sent Babe at home in South Philadelphia.

“I guess you don’t remember the psychic break you had at the Do Lung Bridge.”

Babe waved this remark off, even though Nix remembered it too. It threw a chill down his back, like a water balloon had hit him at the base of his neck. “That was laced,” Babe said.

“With what!”

“I don’t know! Something bad!” Babe turned to Dick and Nix. “Gene’s teetotal,” he said, like this was a big old point of contention.

So that counted out the bad acid. Maybe he was just like this. Maybe he had had those big sad bug eyes as a child or an infant or a fetus in the womb. “Good on you, Doc,” Nix said.

“I ain’t trying it,” Roe said, folding his arms over his narrow chest, “no matter what it does.”

The doc was a tough cookie. Babe had claimed, over there, about as high as the Byrds song, that the doc came from a long line of the kind of folks described in Dr. John’s “Gris-Gris Gumbo Ya Ya” and that, as such, he could heal wounds with his mind. When it didn’t work, as on the night when Jackson died, or the night when Hoobler died, or in the forest when Muck and Penkala died, or the night when Liebgott stopped speaking, he went to sit for a while on the edge of camp until Dick went over and made him eat something. Nix watched them in a state of confused envy, and then he went to write the letters to the families, so that Dick wouldn’t have to.

At dusk, after they ate a light dinner of corn on the cob and rice and beans, he took the boys up into the hayloft with an armful of blankets. “Sorry this is the best we got,” he said. He had said that about a hundred god damn times since they got here.

Roe looked like he wanted to say, you’ve got to stop apologizing for everything. Instead he said, “Where does Lieb sleep.”

Babe perked up. “Joe’s here?”

“You didn’t see him in the driveway?”

Nix sighed. “He’s gonna want to know what he did wrong that you saw him,” he said.

“Does he still — ”

Nix shook his head. “Not a peep.”

In a couple days time, he couldn’t take it anymore, and he was hot and tired and stoned, up to his elbows in earth in the field, showing Babe how to replant the hatchlings he’d grown from seed. “You guys room together or what?”

“Me and Gene?” Babe’s eyes were red in the corners from smoking and from the sun. “What about you and Dick?”

Dick, who had the radio on inside turned up as loud as it would go, so that they would hear it in the field, playing Crosby Stills and Nash doing “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.” “What about me and Dick?” said Nix.

Babe was a smart kid. He realized this was going nowhere. With muddy hands he popped one of the seedlings out of its little pot and cradled it into the ground. “Well, I think he thinks he’s looking after me, but in actuality, I am looking after him.”

[monkeyandelf]

Stonehenge, the mystery of the stone circle

Stonehenge is currently the most visited archaeological site in England. Television crews and hordes of tourists follow one another day and night, striving to keep the magic of these fascinating places alive. Despite this, we know very little about this site. The large megalithic circle made up of gigantic and extremely heavy rocks does not bear the slightest inscription: it seems to be the fruit of long-term work which spread out in stages over a period of about 10 centuries between the III and IIeme millennium BC. Archaeological research has shown that at first the Stonehenge circle consisted of 56 so-called "Aubrey" holes, the name of the one who discovered, regularly spaced between them and used to fix large posts.

Beyond the circle formed by these holes, a large ditch with a diameter of approximately 114 m is in turn surrounded by a median. A singular composition if you consider that a ditch inside a median can in no case serve as defense systems ... Either way, centuries later the original wooden structure was reinstalled, replacing the posts with large blocks of stone. To begin with, a large circle of 30 arches, each made up of three stones, was built, with the lintels fixed in pairs on the load-bearing monoliths, so as to form an unbroken ring. Subsequently, five additional gigantic arcs, not interconnected, were drawn up inside this circle, the stones of which weighed between 20 and 50 tonnes.

Unique features

With its juxtaposed stones forming a single structure, the outer ring of Stonehenge is unique. No other megalithic monument has similar characteristics. The five inner arcs of the circle were arranged in a U: by dividing this shape into two symmetrical longitudinal halves, we obtain a line whose extension outside the circle reaches a large upright stone called "Heelstone".

Stonehenge restoration of 1919 Building such a monument must have required considerable effort, if only in view of the weight of the stones that make up its structure. In addition, it is known that its stones, or sarsen, were transported over a distance of more than 30 km, because the sandstone quarry from which they are extracted is located near Avebury. Then, to the circle of origin was added a second, formed of stones of smaller size of a variety of limestone called “bluestone”, whose characteristics are found, this time, more than 200 km from the . Legend has it that Merlin the enchanter, thanks to his supernatural powers, would have transported to this place this enormous complex that a people of giants had already moved Africa to Ireland.

Impossible to transport

To extract these “sarsen” and these “bluestone”, the former builders of the site only had clubs and antlers because they did not know how to work with metal. We imagine them carrying with difficulty its huge monoliths to the Bristol Channel from where, first by sea, then up the course of the Avon, they would have finally reached Stonehenge. But for now, this is just a guess. Moreover, a group of enthusiasts gathered under the name of “Millenium Stone Project” tried in vain to repeat this course using the means of the time, but the block of stone which they transported was dismally damaged in the waters of the canal. Richard Atkinson, one of Stonehenge's foremost specialists, went so far as to say that the site's builders were "howling barbarians who painted their faces blue". These comments were denied by a carbon-14 analysis which made it possible to date the antlers buried for thousands of years at the bottom of some of these holes. Based on these results, we now know that the circle formed by the great Sarsens dates back to around 2200 years BC.

Stonehenge versus the stars

Why should these men of another time have taken so much trouble? What was Stonehenge used for? And was the space circumscribed by this circle of Peter the scene of ritual ceremonies of druids, the ancient priests of the Celts? One of the answers was given not by studying the stones, but by observing the sky. Extending the straight line which cuts Stonehenge in two lengthwise and passes through the “Heelstone” outside the complex, we reach the exact point of sunrise on the horizon on the summer solstice day. From then on, we studied the stone circle from a completely different angle, namely from an astronomical point of view. The astronomer Sir Norman Lockyer was able to provide a dating of the whole complex: according to him, indeed, these large megaliths would have been erected from 2800 BC, knowing that afterwards they would have been shot and then new around 1560 BC. But that's not all: over the centuries, many of its stones have reportedly been removed and today we are not sure of their original location. Anyway, in the 1970s, the famous astronomer Gérald Hawkins resumed research on the existing correlations between megaliths and the celestial configuration.

A megalithic computer

After much research, Hawkins discovered many other astronomical alignments that made him conjure up the image of a true megalithic computer. According to him, thanks to a system based on the location of Aubrey’s holes, the monument made it possible to predict the movements of the moon, the variations of elevation and sunsets and even eclipses. In other words, the ancient and mysterious builders of Stonehenge seem to have had very advanced knowledge in astronomy, although we do not know how. Today, if new studies have partially questioned the accuracy of the celestial correlations of Stonehenge, each year on June 21, we do here the summer solstice, when the sun rises in the exact alignment of the monument the most mysterious in Europe.

Stonehenge and Atlantis

According to some, Stonehenge and the other megalithic monuments are the vestiges of the legendary Atlantis, the population of which spread out on the continents. A recent carbon-14 dating shows that samples from megalithic tombs are much older than imagined. Megalithic civilization is therefore not the result of the decline of advanced cultures from the Middle East, such as the Sumerians, the Egyptians or the Greeks, but rather the expression of a much older culture, having lived thousands of years ago. In addition, there are also ancient megaliths in Malta in Sardinia, Sicily, Corsica and in the Italian region of Puglia, lands formerly part of Atlantis, if we believe the priests of ancient Egypt .

Avebury, another ring of megaliths

Around 3500 BC, another imposing ring of megaliths, that of Avebury, appeared 26 km away from Stonehenge. Connoisseurs say that "Avebury is, compared to Stonehenge, what a cathedral faces a village church". Today, a village has been built among its stones, but formerly its diameter was almost 1 km, against the 300 m of Stonehenge.

In addition, if archaeologists assume that ceremonies were propitiatory rites for fertility, a former NASA consultant noticed disturbing coincidences between this stone ring and Cydonia, the area of ​​the planet Mars where the famous "Martian Sphinx" is located. Read the full article

[dont-give-money-to-jkrowling]

Source Codes (divided into Do Not Disturb and Heelstones) by fluorescentgrey (yeats-infection on tumblr) is wonderdul, wonderful, wonderful, I think about it a lot and it has been close to a year. Please read it if you want an angsty fic. Also A Wolf's Heart by mizdiz (severus-snape-is-a-butt-trumpet on tumblr) still makes me cry. Enjoy!

thanks mate !also, "a wolfs heart" is a forbidden name around it unless you want me to curl up on the floor and cry for two days straight bc life is unfair

[whibinohol]

Heelstone

Stonehenge, Wiltshire, England