#pondering about sanctuary culture

[monoukotori]

Do you think that people in Sanctuary would consider this like, crossdressing?

(yes, the masks are supposed to separate female saints from their feminity, but if only women wear something for long enough, culturally it will become a "woman thing" eventually)

[https-genesis]

deserving child | dad!jake x daughter!reader

Sypnosis; Whatever had your father done before you were born had nothing to do with you today, but Quaritch didn't care. Children or not, you were Jake's.

Contents; angst little comfort, typical avatar violence, drabble? extreme depictions of gore?? Jake's pov, no use of y/n,

Dictionary; sempul - dad/daddy, sa'nok - mother, tsurak - skimwing, kuru - queue, uturu - sanctuary

A/N; I hate this but anyway

Jake Sully. Failed life on Earth, dead brother. Paralyzed from the waist down, out of service. Sent to replace his brother on a military mission, Pandora. Falling for the forrest, the culture, the people... Neytiri. Even though he had taken everything from her, her sister, her father, her ikran, her people... Neytiri had faith. She fought with him. His beautiful mate... His children. His firstborn son, Neteyam, and his twin, you. Oh, how life had betrayed him. Or had he betrayed life? After all, he betrayed an entire race. Was it unfair? Had he done the good thing, or was he selfish?

Jake still remembers a quote from the Bible he had read years before his 20th birthday. Before his brother was killed on the field.

"For am I seeking the approval of man or of God? And if I am seeking the approval of man, will I still be a servant of grace?"

As Jake sat still onto the back of his tamed tsurak within the seas of the reefs, hundreds of vengeful Na'vi in the same position behind him, he thought back to fifteen years ago. He could've left with Quaritch. Be could've surrendered. Saved thousands of innocent lives and give his own. But he didn't. He chose to stay and fight, but for what?

He could clearly see your distressed faces kneeling and facing him on the Demon Ship. Quaritch and his men held you and your siblings tighly in place and the gun pressed to your temple that digged into your skin harshly.

Jake chose to stay and fight. It brought him here. His children about to get executed right in front of his helpless eyes, unable to do anything but to weep to himself like a coward.

The sound of Neytiri's distressed pleas in his ears made them ring, but he couldn't hear a single word.

Jake could see in his head the faded image of your brains splattered onto the pavement of the ship and for a brief moment he pondered if this was all a dream. It wasn't, however, you were still alive. The choice was his, he knew it well. Would Neytiri even forgive him? Would you? Would Tuk be able to pass her own Iknimaya without her father?

☆

The freezing cold metal pressed firmly against the side of your head burned like dry ice. You had seen your father use similar machinery on the field, but you had never seen it be pointed at someone else. Even less had you thought you'd be the one in this kind of situation. Quaritch had your kuru thigh in his unoccupied hand, pulling whenever your kneeling stance faltered. You could see the outline of Jake, Ronal and Tonowari from your place on the ship and the way your father's eyes drifted from you and your siblings to his weapon. Was he really considering letting himself get captured for you?

Whatever Jake was thinking was passing fast. He had no plan and you knew it. The simple look of despair on Tonowari's face told you everything. You knew not to scream out because the Avatar had warned you when your brother tried.

"One noise and I'll shoot ya', kid."

Kid. You were just a kid. Your brother and sister were just kids. And Jake stared at you like it would be the last time he'd ever do. It was ironic, really. You came to Awa'atlu seeking uturu and had to end up murdering the entirety of its residents.

Jake felt the cold breeze against his damp skin, the breathlessness of Ronal on his right. His children are about to die. You, their big sister, dying to protect them. His babygirl. The one that lit up his life when he felt he was no Olo'eyktan, no Toruk Makto.

Right. Toruk Makto. Jake is Toruk Makto. The sixth rider of Last Shadow, the one who brought the clans victory against the Sky People. He killed Quaritch once. Can he really do it twice?

It's strange to think about it now, but in this situation he wishes he was more of a father and less of a marine. Lo'ak would never forgive him. The way he treated his children like soldiers... The pain he brought upon Neytiri and the people.

Quaritch's voice brings him back.

"Clock's ticking, colonel. What's it gonna be?"

The hand that rested on his gun lowered and Jake instructed his tsurak to swim forward slowly. He doesn't want to die, but he was ready to give his life up for you.

Quaritch did too.

Payakan thought otherwise. The large beast had felt Lo'ak's anger throughout their bond. Payakan had forgotten all about friendship, but Lo'ak had brought him a sense of serenity he had just about never felt before. Seeing red as he threw itself onto the ship, Jake saw the opportunity.

should I do a part two? seems opportunistic tbh

[ani-antiquities]

The Melancholic Woman: Eva Hesse, Ennead (1965), and Trauma, De-strung

(source: ICA Boston)

I will open this essay with a line from art historian, Anne M. Wagner’s essay, Another Hesse, on her journal October, vol. 69 – wherein she writes of our subject, American sculptor Eva Hesse:

Hesse’s self-scrutiny, we learn once again, is a means of coping with “environment” – with the inheritance of the past. But it is also the measure – even the proud badge – of her “difference”, the difference, we remember, of being an artist. (p. 131)

Anne M. Wagner’s essay on Eva Hesse will be one of the main sources of this paper.

Here, we will be able to trace Eva Hesse’s art and its asymbolia to the artist’s melancholia and her journey of sublimation and working through. We will also thereby arrive at more questions to ponder Hesse’s life, and inquire about the connections among art, melancholia, and the semiotic – and possibly ponder a perspective that ties the end-goal of these Kristevan concepts together.

(Before I go on, I just wanna say that this essay may draw on similarities EVA HESSE: POST-MINIMALISM INTO SUBLIME, by Robert Pincus-Witten. I wrote this specific essay more than a year ago for my Cultural, Literary, and Critical Theory class, and I only found this essay just today, as I am writing and doing more research for this piece. LOL. However, I would like to justify that the content of my essay is to draw connections between Hesse’s art and Kristeva’s psychoanalytic theory. I did enjoy Witten’s essay, though!)

(Source: pbs.org)

Eva Hesse

At the height of Nazi Germany, Hesse’s family fled to America for protection from religious persecution, but it was not long until sanctuary proved to be fickle as well, in the land of the free. Due to trauma implicated by the Second World War that vehemently caused the deaths of Hesse’s extended family, the serious circumstances of (Eva Hesse’s mother) Ruth Marcus House’s bipolar disorder worsened. These events dominoed to Wilhelm Hesse’s divorce from Ruth Marcus, and Ruth’s suicide. Adding salt to the wound, Wilhelm would marry a woman named Eva. Upon the new marriage, the young girl and her step-mother would share the same name.

Identity crisis aggravated young Eva’s trauma – from the persecution of family whose faces she had never known, to losing her to suicidal mother at ten. It seemed like grief was her very being.

Graduating from Yale, she exhibited works whose style displayed that of Abstract Expressionism and paved the way for Minimalism.

Art historians speculate how these traumas were sublimated into her art. Her self-portraits showcase distorted images of faces and figures. They are almost like a child’s attempt at creating a figure painting, except that their tone is so somber that only an adult can express such a feeling.

(Untitled, 1965, oil on canvas: From: mutualart.com)

However, the most intriguing work of Hesse does not come from two-dimensions – but three. This includes Hesse’s sculpture, Ennead (1965).

(Ennead, 1965, oil on canvas. From: icaboston.org)

Eva Hesse’s Ennead (1965)

All that there is to the piece: acrylic, paper mache, some resin-coated strings, plywood, some plastic, and a title possibly referencing the Egyptian pantheon.

The Institute of Contemporary Art, Boston, describes the artwork as such:

The orderly, formulaic application of the threads devolves into an increasingly chaotic composition as they accumulate and tangle toward the floor. A few strands are affixed to the adjacent wall, cordoning off a wedge of space that becomes part of the sculpture itself. This gesture also draws the viewer’s attention to the corner of the gallery, activating this normally overlooked area. Additional material hangs to touch the floor, thus uniting three planes. “Ennead” means a group of nine, in this case referring to the nine points from which the strings extend.

How can we interpret art whose surface presence is devoid of any points from its meaning? Baroque art can be so interpreted by its gargantuan number of details that fit on a four-cornered canvas. Poetry can be dissected among its metaphors, language, and enjambments. How can we possibly describe a sculpture so bare of material and overly abstract in its form? Was it meant to be this way – stripped down and bare?

Asymbolia and Melancholia

Many of Hesse’s works portray a distinct use of asymbolia, and the stimulation of asymbolia to its audience.

It is impossible to speak of Ennead without speaking about Hesse – primarily because Hesse and her art are one. Hesse even says: “My life and art have not been separated. They have been together.”

Ennead is no exception – however, with absolutely little to no “initial and final'' interpretation of meaning when you see the sculpture. What can we then say about Eva Hesse through the piece? Even art historians themselves, up to this day, consider Ennead to be an enigma on its own – its minimalism minimizes itself, to the point of devoiding any meaning, making us doubt if there is any at all.

First, we must discuss the asymbolia in Ennead – the art itself. Though by instinct and intuition, the substance of Ennead is uninhabited on its own, I would like to shed a few pointers on the piece and its asymbolia through its deliberate absurdity.

The strings were meant to be orderly at first, until its tail-end, wherein Hesse describes them as a jungle. Hesse even took in the effort to dye the strings to possibly add more aesthetic depth to them. Hesse describes the process of this piece in one of her journals.

The further it went toward the ground, the more chaotic it got; the further you got from the structure, the more it varied. I've always opposed content to form or just form to form. (Quoted in L. R. Lippard, op. cit., p. 62)

However, even when Hesse describes her decision to irrationalize the hinds of the strings, the art still talks gravel to the path towards the most inane question: What does it mean?

So, we shall secondly address the audience’s confusion, that stems from the asymbolia of the audience themselves – the very inability to attach any familiarity or meaning to the symbols the art presents, because of the very fact that it lacks anything.

The only thing that makes sense of Hesse’s art is nonsense – the asymbolia found in Hesse’s art, that stems from dissecting, stripping down, and representing her trauma. Hesse states in one of her interviews: “There is no abstract art. You must always start with something… A painter paints to unload himself of feelings and vision.”

Must her own “something” be from her depression – from the trauma of losing her mother, identity, and other factors throughout?

We take the theory behind this inquiry from Julia Kristeva’s illustration of asymbolia and melancholia in her book, Black Sun – “The negation of that fundamental loss opens up the realm of signs for us, but the mourning is often incomplete. Melancholia then ends up in asymbolia, in loss of meaning…” (p.42).

Hence, to study the bare Ennead is to study Hesse’s bare melancholia.

We may never have the opportunity to bear witness to Hesse’s trauma, as only she and herself can live it, so we turn to her journals,

Throughout her life, Hesse seems to be on good terms with working through with her depression, as she sublimates it with her art – if it means going against the conventions imposed on her by four-cornered dimensions of papers and canvases, and the one-platform norm of past sculptures (Ennead takes up two adjacent walls, and thereby two dimensions).

Asymbolia and the neglect of the pre-conceived semiotic can be seen in her journals – which instead of letters and intelligible words, consist of drawings that penetrate any dividers and lines.

Kristeva furthermore explains this psychoanalytic mechanism as she illustrates the control of the preverbal in aesthetic creation: “When the struggle between imaginary creation (art, literature) and depression is carried out precisely on that frontier of the symbolic and the biological we see indeed that the narrative or the argument is ruled by primary processes” (p.65) – explaining the subnormality of Hesse’s art and entries, and how the manifestations of obscurity stem from the mere struggle of Hesse’s melancholia.

(Figure 3: Hesse’s journal. From: sugarcandymtn.com)

Other than these, her excerpts write of her own feelings of depression and anxiety: “I must write, my sanity is involved. I cry and cry, the pages are wet. I have no one, to go to and the edge of hysteria and insanity is not far apart” (October 19, 1964).

Anne M. Wagner writes: “Anyone who wants to make a serious contribution to remembering Hesse will likewise have to speak about a wound. For what is striking about Hesse’s art is its utter inwardness, with artistic languages of the day: her imagery and effects are not learned by rote, only to be parroted back more or less unchanged” (p. 159)

With this: Must her melancholia still be the root of her asymbolic art? Or was this art a testament to her ability to self-scrutinize all along? Furthermore, will there be anything to self-scrutinize when there is no trauma?

Conclusion: The Futile Point of Interpretation

Hesse intended her work to be autobiographical, but never understood – and thus reflecting the paradox of identity: to know, but never understand. Even her journals were not meant for the purpose of understanding: “Hesse’s journals and their users have meant that it is no longer possible for viewers “not to know the artist” – or at least, not to feel they know her, and to prepare themselves accordingly when looking at her art.”

Yet, even when we have read Hesse’s journals, watched documentaries, and studied countless journals from art historians – the impossibility to fully understand still looms over her audience. So then we ask the question: What should we feel to know of Hesse? The illness caused by both personal and socio-economic circumstances of her time? Must her works be cursed with the fallacy of perpetually being tied to her trauma.

On Dostoevsky, Kristeva writes: “Works of art thus lead us to establish relations with ourselves and others that are less destructive, more soothing.” Hesse’s artifacts are therefore not records of her mania, but documentations of her survival from it. Her illness, therefore, is not what should be reflected of her life – but her sisyphean triumph over it.

Maybe it is for the better – as the point of art itself is to sublimate the traumatic aggression of the artist, and (like a monster) to never let it out of the cage of the canvas. Kristeva can even attest to this, saying: “Art seems to point to a few devices that bypass complacency and, without simply turning mourning into mania, secure for the artist the connoisseur a sublimatory hold over the lost Thing” (p. 97)

Hesse did this concealment well, so much so that it is said the artist herself might not have realized this. As Wagner would write: “If Hesse’s life did enter her art, it did so by a process that Hesse herself was in a position to describe. We would be looking for ways (Hesse’s unconscious) repeatedly configured. I think such imagery exists in Hesse’s art, and I take it to concern the artist’s feelings toward her mother above all” (p. 165) So much so, that even daring to question the trauma behind Hesse’s art, we do not only turn a blind eye to the artist herself, but arrive at a futile destination when we do: “Yet, in asking them [questions on Hesse’s art] we risk losing sight of the workings of Hesse’s unconscious – a notion that, after all, was the motivating impulse of this discussion. But the artist and her unconscious are not far away.” (p. 173)

Conclusion

I will close with another one of Wagner’s concluding lines:

“To claim that Hesse’s art aims to remember and express a common human quality or experience is not the same as attributing to it some universal force or purpose. It gives its own account of that experience.” (p. 186)

This aim of art is reminiscent to how beauty sublimates melancholia in the form of art, much like giving its own account of an experience. Kristeva writes:

“Beauty emerges as the admirable face of loss, transforming it in order to make it live. Melancholia to the point of becoming interested in the life of signs, beauty may also grab hold of us to bear witness for someone who grandly discovered the royal way through which humanity transcends the grief of being apart.”

(p. 100)

Hesse’s journey as an artist is proof that asymbolia – another result of melancholia – paves the way into sublimation. Art is therefore not rooted in the melancholic, its her way of forging a path deeper underneath it. Art is agency from the trial of inner-disagency. Art is therefore the artist’s most individual and subjective struggle, not of her depression, but one of working through. Precisely through this art, we unlock the beauty sculpted from the marble of melancholia. Hesse and Ennead are just among the myriad of melancholic beauty in the realm of art.

SOURCES

Kristeva Julia. Black Sun : Depression and Melancholia. Columbia University Press 1989. https://archive.org/details/blacksun00juli. Accessed 27 Feb. 2023.

Artincontext. “Eva Hesse - The Brief Life and Incredible Works of Eva Hesse the Artist.” Artincontext.org, 4 Apr. 2022, https://artincontext.org/eva-hesse/.

Branaman, Bianca. “Love - Eva Hesse.” Sugar Candy Mountain, Sugar Candy Mountain, 4 Sept. 2018, https://sugarcandymtn.com/blogs/the-brand/love-eva-hesse.

“Ennead.” EVA HESSE, https://www.christies.com/en/lot/lot-315751.

“Ennead.” Institute of Contemporary Art, Boston, https://www.icaboston.org/art/eva-hesse/ennead.

Evemy, Benjamin Blake, et al. “Auctions, Exhibitions & Analysis for +500K Artists.” MutualArt, MutualArt, 17 Feb. 2023, https://www.mutualart.com/.

“The Sickness of Being Disallowed: Premonition and Insight in the 'Artist's Sketchbook'.” O A R, https://www.oarplatform.com/sickness-disallowed-premonition-insight-artists-sketchbook/.

[acconinstituteseo]

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In the heart of Best Astrologer In London amidst the hustle and bustle of urban life, lies a sanctuary where the wisdom of the cosmos a

[roofingcontractearticles]

The Badrinath Yatra involves travelling spiritually to the sacred dwelling of Lord Vishnu.

Devoted Hindus have a particular place in their hearts for the Badrinath Yatra, which transports people on a holy pilgrimage to the hallowed sanctuary of Badrinath, which is tucked away in Uttarakhand, India's Garhwal Himalayas. A major component of the Char Dham Yatra is the pilgrimage, which is more than just a physical journey—it's a spiritual voyage that goes beyond time and space. rich tapestry of the Badrinath Yatra, delving into its spiritual meaning, historical relevance, and the captivating scenery that serves as the background for this magnificent journey.

Unravelling the Spiritual Tapestry of the Badrinath Yatra

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serving as evidence of India's rich cultural legacy.

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Badrinath Yatra Route

To guarantee a smooth and spiritually rewarding travel, careful planning is necessary when organising a Badrinath Yatra. The usual route used by pilgrims to reach Joshimath is from Haridwar or Rishikesh. The Yatra then continues on to Badrinath, with possible detours to the temples of Panch Badri and other surrounding sites.

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[anand07723]

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[pasqeu]

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[ronda1466]

Travel to amazing places view | Dubai City Tour Dubai 4K Drone | UAE TRAVEL Guide 2024

Travel to amazing places view Dubai City Tour Dubai 4K Drone UAE TRAVEL Guide 2024.#dubai This Dubai 4K City Tour is perfect for travelers who want to see the best of Dubai in a whole new way! You'll see the Dubai skyline from above, from the top of the Burj Khalifa to the luxury shopping malls of The Dubai Mall.

Please subscribe to my channel: @DMmahfuz14318

Not only is this Dubai City Tour a great way to see the city, but it's also a great way to experience Dubai drone filming! You'll get to see Dubai from a whole new perspective as you fly through the city in a drone! This Dubai 4K tour is perfect for those who want to see Dubai in a whole new way

About Dubai: Dubai is a city and emirate in the United Arab Emirates known for luxury shopping, ultramodern architecture, and a lively nightlife scene. Burj Khalifa, an 830m-tall tower, dominates the skyscraper-filled skyline. At its foot lies the Dubai Fountain, with jets and lights choreographed to music. On artificial islands just offshore is Atlantis, The Palm, a resort with water and marine-animal parks. Area: 35 km²

Founded: June 9, 1833 Local time: Wednesday 1:40 AM Weather: 34°C, Wind NE at 11 km/h, 59% Humidity Population: 3.331 million (2019) Founder: House of Maktoum

✈ Top-Rated Tourist Attractions & Things to Do in Dubai: See Dubai's Famed Cityscape at Burj Khalifa ; Visit an Underwater World at Dubai Aquarium; Soak Up the Sun at JBR (Jumeirah Beach Residence) Beach; Head Out into the Desert; Walk through History in Al Fahidi Quarter (Old Dubai); Ski then Shop at Mall of the Emirates; Snap Sunset Pics at Dubai Frame; Take to the Water at Kite Beach & Umm Suqeim Beach; Explore Dubai Creek; Skydive over Dubai; Haggle in the Souks of Deira; Tour Jumeirah Mosque; Plan Family Time at Dubai Parks and Resorts; Take Afternoon Tea in the Burj al-Arab; Fuel up on Thrills & Spills in IMG Worlds of Adventure; Sneak in Some Shopping at Dubai Mall; Splash and swim at Aquaventure Waterpark; La Mer Beach; Experience Global Village's Culture & Entertainment; Cruise around Madinat Jumeirah on an Abra; Discover UAE History at Dubai Museum; View Traditional Architecture at Sheikh Saeed Al-Maktoum House; Wander through the Colorful Dubai Miracle Garden; Stroll Sheikh Zayed Road; Explore Local Culture in the Heritage and Diving Village; Spot Flamingos at Ras Al Khor Wildlife Sanctuary; Ponder Ancient Trade Routes in the Crossroads of Civilizations Museum; Enjoy World-Class Theater at Dubai Opera; Browse Cutting-Edge Art on Alserkal Avenue; Savor a Nature Break in Dubai Butterfly Garden;

✈ This HDR Demo video is made for Entertainment and Educational purposes. ✈ I have Done High Color Correction, Color Changing, Bit rate, Raw video editing, Merge files, Export files, and more.

which is located near the iconic Dubai Creek it's an area rich in historical sites. you can go there shopping, you can go to restaurants, you can book a you can. you can go there for a walk it's a beautiful waterfront destination so you should check it out #travelvlog #subscribetomychannel #dubai

[kipaparappa]

There has been a lot of things going on in my life. I am quitting my job (again) for health reason, both physically, and mentally. I have been severely feeling agitated and entangled with my own emotion. I feel horrible about myself, about everything. My emotional capacity is overload, and now I'm just feeling like a zombie. Last week, suddenly I got a very bad ulcer like I never had before. It was so terrible that I still experience symptom to this moment. That 's why I decided to put an end to the source of agony. I want to stop hoping that things would get better, or cursing on that person that someday things will turn their back at him. I want to let go. I'm not going to let myself die in the pit of the darkness.. that's why I decided to quit and prioritize my health first. It's been a battle with my self esteem on who is going to lose more over my decision. I want them to repent, regret of what they did, regret treating me with slavery, mockery, savagery but then all I ever wanted is just to be freed and find a better place, community to surround myself in.

I have been struggling a lot with motivation. I think it's been 2 years since the last time I felt truly giddy about leveling up my design skill. It's difficult to stop the impostor syndrome. Moreover, people's comment "Is this all you got? is this everything you can do?" is still piercing in my broken heart. It truly feels like people have been neglecting all my past effort. I mean I can't completely blame them as I am struggling in the slump of emotional burnout, both from creative side, and human relationship side. I truly... truly feel exhausted from this life.

I want to feel loved. I prayed a lot about ending my life before things get more complicated. Before I have regret over leaving this world. But I don't know when my time will come.. It hurts a lot right now... that I don't have anything that is keeping me away from that knife to cut my vein.. I want to feel like I deserve a place in the earth. My selfishness... screams for a reason. Because I truly don't have one and day by day feels like wasting time.. I want to have someone who will hold my hands when they get cold from the cruelty of the world..

Recently genshin casted kamiya hiroshi and ono daisuke and the news has been dragging my mind to take a trip down the memory lane. During my time active in tumblr, they were literally the household name of the industry, even now still. But before the current generation emerges, they were literally everybody's sweetheart. My memory about them revolves around the time when I was 14-18, those times were very intense as I ponder about the future a lot. I desperately dreaming about living in Japan, experiencing life in Japan, marrying a handsome and caring Japanese man, while being able to live an independent life, being happy, and establishing my own sanctuary in this world where I can be surrounded by people I truly care for. I carefully studied about japanese way of thinking, language, culture, as if I was truly going to live my dream life there lol. I was willing to work hard, through my depression as long as I could keep my dream alive, even just in my mere delusion. Those times were blazing hot, like a fever, like an eternal summer of my life. It was hard to breathe, but it was exciting. It was bright to the point of it was difficult to see what was in front of me.

The two mentioned voice actors voices have always been nostalgic to me. Even when I firstly got myself to know about the industry, I immediately looked for their old stuff and started living in the past. Thinking about how was it back then before the craze happened. They have always been the top in their game but all I could think about were what was it like when they were still surrounded by seiyuu that are much older, when they were still juniors in the ladder. That's why their presence alone would successfully take me back to the time I wasn't even there, every single time. The act of reminisce bolster to my entire life back in the day, when I still feel like I got a lot of time to make my dreams come true. When I was 16, and filled with a lot of hope. Even though I am much older now, I think I was much stronger back then. Listening to old CDs, Songs, time was priceless.. so does dreams and hope. Now I just live day by day because my breathe hasn't stopped. Aimlessly, hopelessly..

[sweetkakashihatake47]

While my tumblr account is still a plattform of dedication to Kakashi Hatake ...I have decided that I will post beautiful things phrases and locations in between ..so that mind eye and soul can have a bit diversity to dwell on ...just imagine ..having a beautiful sanctuary together with the copy Ninja ...having delicious food and sweets ..with him ....and romantic moments ..plus pondering with him ..over wise positive phrases ...just ...let your fantasies do the work ...when you see those ...pictures! Please enjoy

just imagine ....strolling through such a spice and herbs market with Kakashi ....what would he like ...would he like it hot and spicy ...or rather ..mild sorts of ingredients? I enjoy those markets ...and the flavor of it! When I was in Marocco ...I frequented those markets ...and just for the eye ..its a feast! Kakashi would like it as well! I am sure of it! The asian and middle east culture knows about the healing effect of it ..not to mention about the aphrosidiac affect ..that it causes! 😉😊

[flightscapez]

Cheap Airline Tickets

 While cruising in the Galapagos Islands, our thrilling "All over the Planet" venture arrived at a suitable resolution. In 1835, Charles Darwin saw finches on different islands whose bills had marginally changed here. Since they had developed diversely on every island, they had done this to get close enough to the seeds they consumed. During our three-night stay here, I gave a last talk named "Darwin, the Topography of the Galapagos, and Future Patterns in Environmental Change. Cheap Airline Tickets

I'm recollecting this superb excursion "All over the Planet" as I hang tight for my last flight home at Phoenix's Sky Harbor Global Air terminal. Along with the extra miles from my two business flights, we covered an all-out distance of north of 32,000 miles on the personal luxury plane, which covered 28,266 miles. All in over three weeks! The prizes are not dependent upon the number of miles. I feel a sense of urgency to expound on my impressions and encounters. "We don't go on outings" appears to be more consistent with me than "trips take us!" Also, this one has unpretentiously modified me. I decided to take a gander at each spot and culture without making a hurried evaluation of what it was, rather than not very many of my kindred travelers, who appeared to be too effortlessly bothered when things didn't go as expected or when spots didn't look like the recognizable environmental factors of their home. I chose to see what these ten countries brought to the table regarding their particular lifestyles and points of view on the world. In Egypt, papers for the most part make enthusiastically and conveniently about subjects of world significance. Therefore, their kin is extremely associated with both worldwide and nearby undertakings. I express this as my TV screen in Phoenix habitually educates me regarding the latest capture of a celebrity or some other story that sounds like to such an extent "cushion." individuals of Viet Nam expect the extension of their own and public economies to support their bigger society and its capacity to progress. There, the individual increase is to a lesser degree a need. Iran similarly is excited about their circumstance in the world and to me, it was by all accounts America - parceled in a calculated way and socially. They know something about America, which is a major distinction from pretty much every American I conversed with about Iran. The vast majority of them just had an ill-conceived notion of the nation, similar to they had three heads or something to that effect. Incidentally, the Iranians seemed to love Americans while being confounded by our administration's treatment of them! Since a great many people in Togo and Benin carry on with basic life and develop their food, they were a stage back in time. They are cordial, poor, and content with their conditions. Moreover, the new magma streams, unusual animals, and natural desert quality of the Galapagos Islands looked like another planet.

I understand that I am so lucky to have these brilliant and stand-out movement potential open doors and how lucky I feel to get out there and learn something about different spots as I ponder all of this (as a matter of fact, an excessive number of upgrades in such a brief period). Rather than having the media, my administration, or a partnership let me know what it resembles out there, it's so remunerating to see with my own eyes how others live and think. I can guarantee you that anything you assume you realize about a spot is typically just a legend that we figure out how to acknowledge as "truth" even though it is a long way from it. Each American ought to have the chance to visit Iran and meet individuals there. I trust that everybody has an opportunity to see the Incomparable Pyramids in Egypt, the sanctuaries in Kyoto, and the Moroccan nation's cordiality. The world would be considerably more cherishing and less dubious if they did.

[miraya1308]

Sri aurobindo ashram, Pondicherry.

The ideal spot to supplement the serenity of Pondicherry is what the Ashram rely on. Sri Aurobindo Ashram has accomplished overall acknowledgment for the work it has done inside its local area, which lives and works all through Pondicherry. Aurobindo Ghosh and his adherents laid out this in the eastern piece of Pondicherry subsequent to backing away from governmental issues to zero in on otherworldly exercises. The people group developed under him, and the Mother currently has a countless number of individuals working for the purpose both inside the city and from somewhere else. This Ashram has a patio in the center where the Samadhi of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother are decorated with blossoms and saved for devotees to visit and ponder around. The unique culture of the spot has a library with lessons and history of the spot. Also look up places to stay in Pondicherry.

What should be done Partake in the quieting environmental factors and enter an alternate universe of serenity. Find out about the existence of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother and their set of experiences and lessons. You can likewise visit the close by library that has every one of the books about individuals and their lifestyle at the Ashram. Investigate the Samadhi of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother, which is enhanced with many blossoms. Watch the short film at the guest’s middle, which has the historical backdrop of how the Ashram and their lifestyle were shaped. Visit the popular Ganapathy sanctuary close by, which was perfectly constructed and has astounding engineering. Shop at the nearby business sectors which have an incredible assortment of neighborhood merchandise to gather trinkets. Eat out at the plenty of accessible choices and deal different food from many pieces of the country. Checkout best places to stay in Pondicherry.

Voyager TIPS All telephones ought to be switched off consistently, and quiet ought to be kept up with consistently. Youngsters underneath the age of four are not permitted inside the area. Photography without legitimate authorization isn’t permitted.

Accessibility OF GUIDES The Ashramites will direct you all through the entire Ashram and make sense of the reason and lifestyle. There will be no requirement for guides inside the Ashram.

BEST Opportunity TO VISIT The environment of Pondicherry is practically consistent all through the year as it is a seaside locale. Throughout the late spring, it very well may be very damp and make the outing anxious. August is the month when Sri Aurobindo’s birthday is commended all through the city, making it an incredible chance to visit the Ashram. Visiting the city throughout the colder time of year is a lovely encounter because of the gentle environment.

The most effective method to REACH There is an Ashram right near the ocean in Mourn di La Marine. Pondicherry has flights coming from urban areas like Hyderabad and Bangalore. The closest rail line station is found 35 kilometers away at Villupuram. The city is all around served by transports, and auto-carts and taxis are generally utilized for movement inside the city.

Fascinating Realities AND Random data ABOUT SRI AUROBINDO ASHRAM Aurobindo Ghosh established the Ashram in 1926 subsequent to carrying on with a daily existence as a writer and lawmaker. It centers around yoga and reflection as techniques for accomplishing otherworldly significance. Because of her commitment to Ashram’s lifestyle, Mira Alfassa became known as the Mother, and she assumed a significant part in laying out the Ashram. The Ashram has a trust through which it gets numerous gifts from supporters for its working and exercises. Furthermore, the association distributes a few diaries that depict the subtleties of the work and the otherworldliness behind their lifestyle. Lastly also checkout Pondicherry beach resort with swimming pool.

[supervillain-smut]

Hello there! May I request a SFW ABC list for our lovely purple gremlin Weyoun? (I wont fuss if some nsfw finds its way in there, but I suspect not everyone can be so horny for that goblin)

Here you are! One soft gremlin Vorta! Under the cut because I went off lol.

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?) Well, seeing as Vorta don't have aesthetics, your personality, kindness and loyalty are what he really likes about you.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?) No matter how you view Vorta biology... No. No he does not, not because of any particular reason, he just doesn't see a reason or have a need for children. Plus I imagine it would freak him out considering Vorta are cloned. (He wants you all to himself).

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?) Help. He's everywhere. If he has a tail, he'll wrap it around whatever he can. He clings to you for dear life, he needs some part of him touching a part of you. If you don't want him climbing on you, don't lay down around him. Constantly invites himself to cuddle with you. He's so touch starved and loves cuddling, he's like a big dog that forgot they're not a puppy anymore.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?) He wants to explore everything! History museums, animal sanctuaries, oh wait until he finds out about dinosaurs, and reenactments, and festivals!

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…)) Life. He feels like he didn't have one before he met you, just a tool to be used and disposed when it wasn't working right.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?) Simply by being you, being kind to him, talking to him, simple things, but most of all when you can discuss the Dominion and the Founders without getting into an argument or putting down his beliefs. He's perfectly fine with agreeing to disagree, unlike most Vorta.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?) Weyoun is gentle in quite literally everything he does, he just has those hands, but when he's with you, it's obvious. He's so tentative and careful, you barely notice he has his hands on you sometimes.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?) All. The. Time. If you let him, he will. He holds your hand while you walk, when he's nervous, no matter what he's always reaching for you. If you don't want him to at the moment, he'll pout but he'll listen, though you may catch his hand occasionally wandering or opening and closing when he reminds himself you'd like some space.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?) Just another human angry at him after the war, blind to the mistreatment and the sort of pressure they're under when given orders.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?) Absolutely, but the quiet fuming kind. He'll sit patiently, staring down the offender, and will only step in if you look uncomfortable or it gets rough. Other than that, he observes silently watching your reactions and the others' too. How soon do you come back to him, how soon do you tell them to back off. He'll wait and see. It abates as soon as you're back with him, and nothing happened.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?) Weyoun, being the sly Vorta he is, kisses you first while you're flustered from him telling you he loves you.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?) He tells you, completely unashamed, that he loves you. While you're trying to find the words, he can see your response in your eyes, and kisses you.

M = Memory (What’s their favorite memory together?) All of them, literally. He has a fantastic memory and loves making in-jokes out of small things, barely noticeable to anyone else, he remembers the first time he saw you, met you, every step of the way to current day he remembers and thinks back very fondly. But what he holds onto is how it felt. Vorta being clones and all.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?) He's a collector himself, so if you've mentioned something you like or are a fan of, it's partially his interest and wanting to see you happy that compels him to buy things for you. Personally he's not a very materialistic person, just curious. He's an average spoiler, if you mention it, he'll make it happen, if you don't, your birthday and holidays are when he gets things for you.

O = Orange (What color reminds them of their other half?) Whatever color you're wearing that day, he suddenly sees it everywhere. If you're wearing anything orange, it's all that catches his eye, etc.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?) He doesn't really use pet names, he much prefers your name, it's more in the way he says it that translates his meaning. He's all about tone and mood. Give him a pet name however, especially if it's in Dominionese, and he absolutely melts. It sends a shiver up his spine, among other things.

Q = Quaint (What is their favorite non-modern thing?) I know I've been using everything as an answer frequently, but this time I really do mean, quite literally, anything. Anything that isn't being used on the station, or flat out not being used at all on earth, he is absolutely fascinated with, his eyes go big with wonder and curiosity, and he ponders over it all day long. If you actually manage to get something physical, he tears it apart and puts it back together until he can do it with his eyes closed.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?) It's very noisy, so staying inside, indefinitely. If it's just spitting you can coax him out, but if it's absolutely pouring, no way. He curls up under and undeterminable number of blankets, and thunderstorms are the worst. He hates it.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?) He's used to self-soothing, so when you comfort him it's foreign, he doesn't quite know how to open up. When you're upset, he tries the things you do for him; talking softly, distracting, asking what the issue is, offering food, and sometimes just sitting on the ground and cuddling and kissing all over your face.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?) Anything and everything, human, Vorta, Vulcan, Andorian, doesn't matter. It's mostly politics or culture, but honestly no topic is safe, but please tell him if he's talking too much or you'd like silence, once he gets going physical cues are useless.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?) Curling up in a dark, quiet room under tons of blankets, fiddling with whatever new thing he's found. Or, you know, curling up with you and reading a book.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?) His collection and knowledge! He's like a kid that lists off everything they know about their special interest, except his special interest is humans. Feedback and new knowledge are very much appreciated, and please acknowledge how much he knows. He loves it so much.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?) He doesn't, simply because no matter how hard he tries, he still thinks there will be a replacement of him if anything happens. How can you say you're with him until death do you part if he never truly dies? Would you reject the next clone, with all the same memories? How would you cope? He can't hold you to that sort of thing. It's a technicality he can't see past.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?) Uhm... He doesn't really get music? He enjoys it and all, it's nice background ambiance, he likes classical because it's calming, but he can't really tell which song it is or who it's by, it's all so random to him. He doesn't know the name, but you do; his favorite is Le Carnaval Des Animaux, 13, Le Cygne by Camille Saint-Saëns.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?) He doesn't think of getting married, but he does think of how you might react if he proposed. He's confident you'd say yes.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?) Anything in a terrarium. Geckos, snakes, bearded dragons, fish from Oscars, piranhas, to betas and angelfish, all properly cared for, as well as some larger insects and arachnids like praying mantis, atlas beetles, tarantulas, scorpions, you name it. Obviously properly taken care of to the letter, and not before consulting you. Don't be surprised if he shows up with a crested gecko just a week after he's gotten a leopard gecko.

[sheresh0y]

Gai Bal Manda

A/N: I originally wanted to do a funny fluff piece about how Ezra and Mando found their kids. It eventually took on a life of it's own and has straight up haunted me for weeks. I tried it with every combination of characters and wasn't satisfied until I settled on this. I'm not entirely happy with how this came out, but this piece feels finished where the other felt lacking. So let me know if you like it, or if you have any Chaotic Space Dad thoughts! My inbox is always open! Translations at the end.

Warnings: Adoption talks, found family musings, what is a family? thoughts, light angst, ends happy though!

Word Count: 1912

The Crest was a tight fit for four people, even if they had outfitted some of the closets and nooks for sleeping spaces and some semblance of privacy. The only place one could truly be alone was the fresher and with so many people it wasn’t like you could be in there for long. That’s why Din made sure that the cockpit stayed exactly the way it was. Maybe it was silly, or territorial even, but it helped that people could only be in his sanctuary when they needed to be.

Needless to say, the cockpit was a tight squeeze for four people just like four people was a tight squeeze for the Crest. Maybe that’s why Din was always surprised when Cee willingly came up. She had her own space, the poor excuse of a closet the Crest had made an even poorer excuse of a room, but it was her own space nonetheless. Ezra and Din had both unanimously decided between the of the two of them the kids should have something even if it wasn’t great or normal by any stretch of the means.

The first time Cee joined him topside he thought it would be a one-off. Ezra was probably being long winded and she just needed to escape was he first thought. His usual thought when Ezra rambled. Then she just kept doing it, just sitting there with her notebook and music player, not saying anything. By the third day Din figured she wanted something. Some question she was going to ask or excuse he was supposed to back up when Ezra asked where she was.

Din decided to break the silence on day four, turning his head slightly over his shoulder so he could keep an eye on the controls and Cee, “What are you trying to get out of?”

“Did Ezra say something?” Cee groused, clearly annoyed. “Just because he has one arm doesn’t mean I have to pick up his slack. It was his own fault he lost it.”

“He didn’t say anything to me, no. Should he?” Din was practiced at dancing around topics to get answers to the questions he didn’t want to outright ask, but this felt different. Tense, almost.

“No,” Came the immediate, too quick reply over his shoulder. Din hummed at her answer and turned fully to the controls, deciding that pulling the question from Cee would take longer than waiting her out. Silence spread over the cockpit, not an uncomfortable one on Din’s part. Cee, however, couldn’t stand it. He knew what question she was going to ask. He had to.

Ezra said it was rude to ask and she knew it was, she would be annoyed if anyone badgered her with the question she wanted to ask Mando. As they sat in silence Cee got even more antsy, Keeva had she insulted him? She didn’t mean to, the kid was cute, a little disproportionate between the huge ears and eyes with the tiny body, but sweet.

She just had so many questions, like, was he supposed to get as big as Mando? Was Mando the anomaly? Were they even related? Mando had five fingers while the kid had three so did they sprout new fingers? It didn’t matter if they weren’t, her and Ezra weren’t and no one said anything to them so she should just leave it alone... but she just had to know.

The quiet was getting stifling and Cee knew it was just going to get more weird if she didn’t just spit out the question and let Mando leave her and Ezra on some backwater planet. “He’s yours, right? The kid. So... Why do you have five fingers and he has three?” Keeva, it sounded more stupid than she imagined. Maybe Ezra was right, that she was just going crazy in the long stretches of space.

The staticky huff of what sounded like laughter snapped Cee out of her spiral, “He’s my foundling, I’m quested to return him to his kind. So while he’s mine currently, he isn’t my son. Not biologically.” Maker, that was the question she was so worked up about? Of all the things he was thinking about his foundling wasn’t what he expected.

The air shifted from awkward to something else, something Din didn’t quite have a name for, the tension leaving the room suddenly like a vacuum into space. Cold and distant and sudden. “What happens if he doesn’t have anyone? No family or friends left?” Cee let the question hang in the air, trying to sound more confident then she felt.

She wasn’t lonely, she had Ezra. Ezra wouldn’t ever leave her behind, he didn’t when they were on the Green, or any of the other hundred times it would’ve been easier to. He never complained or made her feel guilty about anything. He never acted like taking on another mouth to feed was an issue for him and he often talked about how their partnership was “a balm for his lonesome soul”.

Besides that, if Ezra ever did want to leave, he could. She had been taking care of herself long before he came around and she could do it again. She didn’t need him to hold her hand through life. She didn’t need anyone.

Watching the emotions play out on Cee’s face made Din realize that he stepped into a minefield he didn’t know existed. Ezra wasn’t Cee’s parent like he originally assumed, she was his foundling and she knew she didn’t have anyone to go home to. Whether or not Ezra knew was something else entirely, he wasn’t entirely clear on how they found each other.

Turning the pilot chair to face Cee directly Din tried his best to explain, “It’s a little complicated on the outside looking in. I’m his guardian, tasked with reuniting him with his own kind, or, raise him until he can swear the creed I have. If he has no one, no family to raise him and I have exhausted all avenues of approach in finding them, then and only then can I adopt him as my own. There is no backing out of it, or not wanting your foundling. It’s a sacred duty to be a buir - a parent.”

While he wasn’t sure if that was what Cee wanted to hear, it felt good to say it out loud. That someday, if he’s lucky enough, he might get to be the womprat’s dad. He would never admit it, not to any other soul living or dead, that he was thinking of adopting his foundling. He couldn’t, for many reasons. One being that whole quested business, he couldn’t stop looking for the kid’s kind. If he did then he would be going against The Creed, he would be dar’manda. The second was that the kid’s powers were growing more and more. He couldn’t help the kid with training and finessing his powers, the kid needed the Jedi more than Din needed the kid.

Silence enveloped the ship as Mando paused in his explanation. Cee was looking anywhere but Mando, feeling like she had been stripped raw, like he had seen right through her question and put her insecurities on display. Mando knew she wasn’t asking about the kid. “You can adopt anyone, even adults. At least in Mandalorian culture. It’s called gai bal manda. You have to say, ‘I know your name as my own’ and then their name.”

Din turned the pilot seat back to the controls and left their conversation at that, she could do whatever she wanted with that information. Twisting the information over in her mind Cee wondered if Ezra thought it was dumb, they were already partners why was there a need to make a fuss over it. And on the other hand, could she? Family was obviously sacred for Mando and his people, was this vow something she could do or would it be sacrilege for her to try and piece together a family? Was she replacing her family? No. She wasn’t, right? Her mom was her mom just like her dad was her dad and Ezra was her... Ezra.

There wasn’t a name for what Ezra was to her, he annoyed her like a sibling, offered advice like a parent, supported her like a friend. Sitting in the Crest it hit Cee like a speeder, that family was supposed to be people in your corner. People you trust. Ezra was family and had been for a while now.

-

Leaving Mando in the cockpit to eat supper, Cee joined The Child and Ezra in the belly of the Crest. “You doing okay, Birdie? Got your pondering face on,” Ezra prodded. He knew that she had been hanging around Mando the past few days, he didn’t have a problem with it but he was curious about what they had been talking about for her to look so solemn. Cee spun the spoon around in the bowl, not entirely sure how to bring up what she was thinking about without Ezra laughing at her so she elected to stay silent.

Studying her for a minute longer Ezra decided to take it upon himself to lift her spirits or annoy it out of her. Lucky for him, the execution was the same: talking to her. Ezra knew he could be long winded when he wanted to be so he launched into his dealings for the day. Taking inventory, talking to the kid, cleaning the thrower, making dinner since it was his turn tonight, and how ‘thank you’s would be very much obliged. He was about to get into an overly detailed explanation of how ration packs were dehydrated when Cee finally cut him off.

“What does family mean to you, Ezra?”

The wind felt like it was knocked from his chest right then. Like someone had gotten a lucky punch into his solar plexus. “Well... I guess... Family to me would mean you, Birdie. Someone who’s got your back even when you don’t deserve it. Or at least, feel like you don’t deserve it. If I may ask, what brought this on?”

Cee shrugged trying to look nonchalant about the whole thing as she admitted to asking Mando about The Child. Ezra huffed in good natured annoyance rolling his eyes, “I told you it was rude to ask. Never one to listen, but that’s okay, I’m not either. Since you already did the prying, it’s only fair you tell me what new information you gleaned about our crewmates.”

Cee simplified what Mando told her, about the foundling and adoption process. Ezra hummed as wiped The Child’s face with the corner of a rag, not quite knowing where to go from there. Did she want Mando to adopt her? Did she want a normal family? Ezra wasn’t sure what to say as he sifted through those thoughts. If she wanted their partnership to end he would take her to any planet, any system she desired. He hoped she knew that.

“It’s really simple, actually, and anyone can be adopted. According to Mando even adults can be.” Ezra wasn’t sure if she was being vague on purpose or if he was being set up to be pranked but he leaned into whatever plan she had willingly. “What, pray tell, does this adult adoption look like Birdie?” He was finally able to catch her eye across the crate that was their designated table.

“I know your name as my own, Ezra.”

Translations:

Buir: Father, mother, parent

Dar'manda: a state of not being Mandalorian - not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and his soul - regarded with absolute dread by most traditional-minded Mando'ade.

Gai Bal Manda: Literally meaning "name and soul" it is the Mandalorian adoption vow. In Mando'a it is "ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad" and based on the translation and source can either mean, "I know your name as my own" or "I know your name as my child". I had Din just give Cee the English translation since she or Ezra wouldn't know Mando'a, but she needed something since she was feeling pretty adrift in this piece.

[brother-genitivi]

Summary: A nervous Arda goes to meet Jaal’s family for the first time, two lads kissin, Arda comes to terms with his loneliness

Pairing: Arda Ryder/Jaal Ama Darav

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None (mention of anxiety)

Word Count: 1.5k

"What is bothering you, Ryder?"

Arda turned to face Jaal, the sweet faced Angara he was falling head over armoured heels for. Ugh, were his hands sweating? He sheepishly rubbed his clammy palms on the legs of his trousers, managing a pitiful shrug in reply.

"There is no need to worry." Jaal put a hand on Arda’s quivering shoulder. “My family will like you, I am sure.”

Arda’s heart leapt into his throat at the contact. He sighed deeply and reached for the bag he stowed away under his seat. As the shuttle drew to a stop at Jaal’s home, Arda attempted to relax.

"Jaal? Jaal!" His true mother, Sahuna, ran forward to embrace her son. Arda squashed down a painful pang of jealousy. He rarely received hugs from his father (though he got many from his twin and mother) while he was still alive, and yet to Jaal and Sahuna it seemed like a habit… like it happened all the time. Knowing Angaran culture, it probably did.

"Wait, is there bad news?"

"No, no," Jaal gestured to Arda who waved awkwardly in turn, adjusting a curl that had fallen in front of his eyes. "The Pathfinder is interested in where I grew up. Arda, this is my true mother, Sahuna Ama Darav."

Arda smiled and greeted her with a hug.  His shoulders slumped in relief almost instantly.

"It’s wonderful to meet you! I hear the Angara like hugging," he said, then added hastily, "I do too, but we don't usually have enough time for hugs in my line of work."

To his surprise, Sahuna swept him into another one, surely to make up for all the hugs he missed out on. For a split-second Arda had to resist the urge to cry. He'd been there for less than two minutes and already felt like he was at home.

“Jaal’s told me about how much he admires you.”

Arda couldn’t stop himself from grinning. He glanced at Jaal, a warm buzz replacing the crushing weight within his chest. “Really?”

“He’s my favourite,” Sahuna beamed fondly at her son. Arda noted her eyes crinkled the same way Jaal’s did when he smiled. “He’s smart. Loyal. Kind. A great shot. Writes poetry…”

“Mother…” If Angara could blush, Jaal certainly would have then.

“Ah, I’m late for a Resistance meeting.” Sahuna put her hands on both Arda and Jaal’s shoulders. “Stay clear.”

“One last thing,” Arda called out to her as she walked to the shuttle. “What should I call you? Sahuna, or Miss Ama Darav?”

Sahuna seemed to ponder for a second, but she’d known the answer as soon as she was asked. “Arda, you can call me anything you’d like. ‘Mother’, if you so wish. Now, go on. Have fun!”

Arda made a mental reminder to bake something special for Sahuna later. She deserved the best of his baking capabilities. Even then he couldn’t believe what Sahuna had said. Jaal actually talked about him to his mother! He considered that one of the highest of compliments.

“Let’s go inside,” Arda broke the comfortable silence, a new-found confidence rising within himself. “I’m excited to meet the rest of your family.”

“After you. Everyone, this is Arda.”

Arda waved good-naturedly, observing the room. When Jaal mentioned having a large family, Arda thought he meant five or six family members. He did a quick head count and ended up having to start over again. Despite the main room being full of people, it felt neither claustrophobic nor crowded. It was obvious to Arda everyone enjoyed each other's company. He squinted suspiciously at the tranquil scene in front of him, thinking back to the interactions he used to have with his father. They couldn’t go two minutes without arguing. But Jaal’s family? They seemed so… healthy.

“This is wonderful! It feels so warm and cosy here,” Arda mused, setting his bag on the table.

“We like to live like this.” Jaal smiled briefly, leading Arda to his room. “My tiny sanctuary.”

Jaal’s room was mostly tidy aside from a few scattered books and pages of what looked like poetry. Arda couldn’t be sure; most of the leather bound pages were covered in illustrations of galaxies and constellations he didn’t recognise. They didn’t look like any stars he knew from the Heleus Cluster either. 

“We have this saying and, uh, I think it applies here. ‘Home is where the heart is’.”

Jaal chuckled, then stopped abruptly as his gaze fell on a box sitting on his bed. “Oh, who put this here?”

Arda sat next to him, knees brought into his chest. Their shoulders bumped for just a second, but it was enough to send his stomach in twists. He instinctively leaned his head into the crook of Jaal’s neck.

“So-” Arda squeaked as Jaal returned the gesture, resting his head on top of his own. He cleared his throat and peered into the box. “These a-are schematics?”

“When I was seven, my aunt stole a kett weapon for me. So I took it apart. To learn.”

“Makes sense. Ooh, and that is - was - a kaerkyn.”

“Pet kaerkyn,” Jaal corrected him. “Alfit. He died. So I also took him apart.”

“Once again, makes sense. If you learnt from him, then why not?”

“Exactly. I don’t really show people these things…”

Jaal pushed the box away and held Arda by the arms.

“You make my heart sing. I want us to be together.”

Arda blinked slowly at him. Did he hear that right? He couldn’t help the grin spreading across his warm face.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he replied breathlessly.

“Yes!” Jaal laughed gleefully, prompting Arda to laugh with him. That was a sound he never wanted to forget. He looked into Jaal’s eyes and found himself lost in them. They reminded Arda of the days he spent searching for marine life by the local rockpools, or the nights he spent stargazing alone, watching the stars dot the sky like lights on a patchwork quilt of blue and black.

“I adore you.”

Jaal took Arda’s face in his hands, thumbs gently tracing the outline of his cheekbones. Arda giggled like an idiot as their noses bumped together. Warmth spread through his chest as their lips grazed each other, tentatively, softly, for the first time. They drew apart slowly, bearing twin expressions of contentedness.

“Let me show you something else you might like.” Jaal helped Arda up from the bed, reflexively squeezing his colder hands. “Lie down.”

Arda stared into the ceiling and gasped as Jaal flicked a small switch, illuminating the room in hues of soft blue and purple. He was looking at a cluster- no, a whole galaxy of revolving stars and planets.

“These are the stars in your pages,” Arda observed, pointing at the flickering dots, then at the pieces of paper distributed around. “It’s beautiful. Did you make that?”

“Long ago. It’s not accurate. More of a dream, really. Just one more thing I want to take apart and figure out.” Jaal stole a glance at Arda. Did all humans look this cute while concentrating? 

“Ah, Jaal...” Arda placed a hand over Jaal’s and squeezed it tenderly. 

“And now I have someone to do it with.”

For a few moments they lay there unbothered, no sound except for their steady breathing and whirring of the projector. As he watched the ceiling transform into a symphony of lapis and indigo, he thought back to the evenings where he would drag a blanket onto the roof and analyse the ever changing sky. Every single time Arda did it, he was by himself. He would have invited his twin, but she was always asleep, or away at boarding school.

He used to write stories about exploring the galaxy in a huge ship, away from the tense arguments between him and his father. He would dance wistfully to slow music under the moonlight, careful not to disturb the small birds nesting in the gutter, singing under his breath and telling secrets to the open air with only the stars as his witness. He felt so free, so alive, and so frightfully alone.

Arda brought Jaal’s hand to his lips, sighing again. That horrid weight in his chest was back.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Arda made out through shaky breaths. Great. An anxiety attack. Of course it has to be right now, he thought bitterly. “Uh, maybe not yes. I don’t know. Well, I do. It’s stupid.”

“You can tell me,” Jaal said, rubbing Arda’s arm comfortingly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’ve noticed humans are much more secluded with their emotions.”

Arda wrung his hands together, offering his boyfriend a small smile. “Honestly? I just want to go onto a rooftop under the stars and have a picnic.”

“Well...” Jaal gestured to the room around them. “It’s no roof, but we have stars and we have food.”

Jaal helped his darling one to his feet, heart swelling with adoration for the short human in front of him. If Arda wanted a picnic, he would get a picnic.

“Jaal? Thank you.” And he meant it. Because for the first time since he was sixteen, Arda wouldn’t have to watch the stars alone. He finally had someone to do it with.

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Two - No Monkey Business

Victor was awakened by the soft rays of morning sunshine that entered their bedroom through the huge windows. It had been a while since he had slept so long and so much. Since they arrived in  Bali three days ago, they had done nothing but sleep, eat, explore their intimacy and take the occasional dive in the swimming pool. They hadn't even unpacked, since there was no need for clothes. The only thing Victor would put on would be his robe, when he opened the door to the bellhop that brought their meals. During the past few days it was just them and their naked bodies, drowning in their senses, drinking from their love and lust.

If someone told Victor a year ago that he would spend a great part of a week in the nude, disregarding work and doing nothing but having sex and recharging for more sex, he would think they were insane. But if he was to be truly honest, he didn't mind the current situation at all. In fact, he wondered if they could replicate it back at home, maybe one day a week. He had everything he needed and truly enjoyed: good wine, good food, extraordinary weather, and Andrea in his arms, undistracted from the ordeals of the world. Past him would think he would have died of boredom, just laying around doing nothing, but he happily spent his time counting her eyelashes while she slept, or running his fingers gently over her soft skin, making her sigh in her slumber.

Victor was amazed at how much one can discover when sharing stillness with a loved one. They spent nights talking about the most varied things, telling stories of their lives before the other, laughing, drinking and playing, or simply enjoying the view holding hands, sharing a smile or a stolen glance, as they heard the ocean waves crash in the distance. Bali had been an excellent choice for a honeymoon destination. Nature brought in them the peace to fully focus on each other, and they had all the privacy in the world, acting on their hearts contentment.

He rolled over in bed, trying to find her warmth, only to find her place empty. Victor found it rather odd that he hadn’t awakened when she left; he had always been a light sleeper, and his protective instinct would jolt him awake if Andrea moved a little bit out of the ordinary. That's how Victor realized how peaceful he had been for these few days: he was becoming a heavy sleeper. Lifting his head a bit, he looked around through the tulle curtains on the bed, trying to find his loved one. The sound of water splashing outside made him look in that direction, and there he found her, in all her naked glory, swimming in their private infinity pool. That was all the motivation he needed to peel himself off the bed.

"Well, good morning, handsome." She swam to the edge of the pool, noticing him arrive.

"I missed you in bed." He kneeled in front of her, lowering his head for a kiss.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you. You were sleeping so soundly." Her hand ran across his naked chest, the coolness of the water making him shiver slightly.

“You’re wet.” He complained. “I’m going to order breakfast, are you in the mood for something in particular?”

“Just that awesome coffee.” She relaxed her body in the water, making it float. “The rest is up to you.”

“Do a few more laps.” He teased, leaving with a kiss on her forehead. “That’s not a bathtub, you know.”

He couldn’t hear clearly what she said, but he still chuckled, picturing how cute she must have looked all riled up due to his nagging. He ordered a full breakfast with the thing he knew she liked, pancakes, sunny side up eggs, and the local fruits.

“Do you want to go to the monkey cemetery today?” Andrea asked as she happily ate her breakfast.

“Sanctuary.” Victor corrected.

“God, why do I keep saying that?” She sipped her coffee. “Weird.”

“I’m starting to fear for the monkeys.” He joked.

“You’re hilarious.” She threw him a napkin that he easily avoided, chuckling. “I was reading about it earlier, it sounds really mystical. They have three temples of worship there, including one for Shiva. It’s too bad we can’t get in.”

“Since when do you care for Hindu religion?” Victor frowned. “Or any religion at all? Or Shiva?”

“Do you want to go or not?” She pressed, unwilling to reveal her reasons.

“Get ready.” He got up. “I’m asking the resort for a tour guide.”

The tour guide dropped them by the two large stones statues at the entrance of the Ubud Sacred Monkey Forest, but not before making some important recommendations: never look the monkeys in the eye as they may become aggressive, avoid sudden movements if the monkey goes to one’s lap, and never try to pry things out of the monkey’s hands, even if its a personal item. However, Andrea didn’t care much about the monkeys, her interest focused more on the religious culture of the place, and Victor allowed himself to relax a little, knowing that his wife wasn’t interested in trying to pet them.

They walked into the deep of the Forest for a while, monkeys jumping from tree to tree over their heads, until they reached the temple of Shiva. Andrea, who had been extremely talkative the whole time, grew unexpectedly quiet, lost in thought. She sat on a rock, her gaze lost on that temple, as Victor sat in front of her, rummaging his backpack for a water bottle.

“Care to explain the sudden fascination with Shiva?” He asked, uncapping and handing her the bottle.

“Shiva is the god of destruction and renovation.” She simply stated, like it was self-explanatory.

“So?” Victor frowned, annoyed at how vague Andrea could be sometimes.

“Two years ago, I was a completely different person than I am now. I was a fragile woman, recovering from abuse, trying to find my place and purpose in this life. Daniel did more than beat me, he beat me down. He left me for dead, helpless and hopeless. Look where I am now. I am strong and assertive. I built myself a career, got married. I don’t fear life any more.” She paused, turning her gaze from the temple to her husband. “If you knew that some specific god might have aided in such a transformation, wouldn’t you want to thank him?”

“So now you believe in Shiva?”

“I believe that I have changed, for the better. I believe there was indeed a transformation, a renovation of sorts. And I am thankful. To whoever I should be thankful for.” She took a swig of her water, lost in thought again.

“Don’t be too hasty giving all the credit to Shiva. In all fairness, you always had those qualities.” Victor offered with a smile. “Perhaps only now you see them in yourself.”

Immediately, Victor felt something tug the back of his polo, making him freeze. Something was climbing his back. It didn’t take long for him to figure out it was a monkey.

“Don’t move.” Andrea whispered with a smile, watching him closely. “I think you made a new friend.”

Much to Victor’s dismay, this monkey did not come alone. Soon enough, he had three monkeys trying to climb him, tugging the fabric of his pants and his polo, trying to find some food.

“Wow, look at that!” She laughed. “It’s like you are covered in monkey catnip!”

Victor sighed, exasperated.

“Don’t ask me how this happens.” He tilted his head back, trying to avoid getting a monkey’s ass rubbing on his face. “Same happens with cats, I can’t figure out why.” Victor motioned to get up in an attempt to make them leave, but Andrea stopped him.

“No, wait.” She reached for her phone in the pocket of her cargo shorts. “Let me take a picture. I just need to turn this on.”

Victor waited patiently for her to turn on the device, shuddering when the monkey that rested on his shoulder inserted the tip of his tail into his ear.

“You have ten seconds before I get up and shake them off.” Victor warned, disgusted.

But apparently, Andrea was not worried about the picture anymore. She paled slightly, tapping furiously on the screen.

“I have fifteen text messages from Olive asking me to call her back.” She looked at him. “What do you think she wants?”

Before Victor had the chance to answer, one of the monkeys decided that Andrea’s phone was far more interesting than his lap and jumped to the spot next to her, trying to take the phone from her hand.

“What are you doing? No.” She frowned at the cub, taking the phone back absentmindedly. “You can’t have this, it’s not yours.”

Victor’s heart stopped for a moment, expecting a reaction from the animal, but none came. The little monkey scurried away and Victor sighed, getting up slowly, his careful eyes on the monkeys jumping to the ground.

“Put that thing away.” He softly scolded. “You really need to mind your actions he-”

“Aaaaahhh!” Andrea screamed in pain, and Victor turned to her. Apparently, that little monkey’s mother was nearby and jumped from behind her, sinking her teeth in Andrea’s shoulder.

“Don’t move!” Victor ran to her, taking a closer look at her injury, which was now bleeding profusely. “Wait. Let me wash it.”

He emptied the remainder of water in his bottle on Andrea’s shoulder, but to little effect to her wound, that kept stubbornly oozing blood.

“We need to get you to the infirmary.” He stated, frantic, taking Andrea in his arms and bolting to the exit, where the infirmary was located.

“Victor, I can walk! You can put me down, it’s not that bad!” He heard her call.

Even though Victor could hear her voice, he was in no condition to listen. His own heartbeat pounded heavily on his ears as he ran, his mind reeling as he furiously pondered the setbacks and possible solutions of the situation he was facing.

They had received inoculation before the trip, but he foolishly forgot to confirm if rabies was included in the pack, leaving it all in his physician’s hands. There was no way to guarantee that the monkey wasn’t infected, with that or some other disease. Untreated, rabies could kill someone in merely weeks, and Bali was a third world country, with an extremely poor healthcare system, so a vaccine could well not be readily available. And even if Andrea wasn’t infected with rabies, the wound was deep enough and the bleeding considerably profuse to hint damage at a major artery, taking mere minutes for Andrea to bleed to death, which rose the exact same problem as before: they were not in Loveland, where the best doctors were just a phone call away. He would have to get a plane as soon as possible to fly them back, at the risk of becoming a widower right on their honeymoon.

“Victor! Andrea!” He heard the tour guide running towards. “Shit, she got bit?”

“She needs help, she’s bleeding a lot!” Victor took a quick look at her shoulder and back, now drenched with blood, dripping to his arm.

“Come, get in the car, I know a clinic nearby where she can get treated.” The guide led them to the jeep, opening the front passenger door. Victor sat Andrea as the guide opened a water bottle, pouring more water on her wound. He sighed in relief. At least the bleeding had finally stopped.

“See?” He heard his wife’s gentle voice. “I’m ok, it’s not even bleeding anymore. Relax.”

Without a word, and despite Andrea’s protests, Victor unceremoniously transferred her to the back seat and sat beside her, a protective hand around her waist, his other pressing on her wound with some cloth the guide provided, as his lips rested on her temple, wishing it would bring her some comfort. As for him, he would relax when he saw his wife completely safe from harm.

Andrea talked to him the whole way to the clinic, trying to calm him down, but nothing could quiet his worried mind. They weren’t supposed to leave the hotel, maybe only for the occasional stroll, but never take a car and drive for an hour towards the forest. Bali was indeed a paradise, and they went there to enjoy some of the culture, but their intent was to relax, not to venture away.

The clinic looked nice and clean, although very far from Victor’s standards. The doctor carefully analyzed the bite mark, disinfecting it properly. The doctor concluded the wound itself was not dangerous, and certainly not as deep as it looked, and administered a vaccine for rabies. In less than ten minutes they were back in the car, with the recommendation for a lot of rest and fluids, since the vaccine would apparently do more danger than the bite. However, even after the doctor had deemed Andrea would heal properly in the next couple of days, Victor would not be satisfied until the resort physician examined her too.

By the time the doctor left their room with the very same recommendations, Andrea was exhausted. And Victor was worried. And furious.

“I told you it was not that bad.” Andrea tried to appease him, as she laid down on their bed, him sitting beside her. “You were worried for nothing.”

Victor scoffed, but didn’t say a word. He felt the roaring fire of anger inside him, and he was trying his best to keep it in.

“Are you upset?” She spoke again, reaching for his arm. He got up, avoiding her touch. “Victor…”

“I should’ve known better and just stayed in.” He shook his head, feeling his ears grow warmer. “I should’ve known you’d be reckless and do something foolish.”

“Wait.” Her voice was slightly angry, taking offense at his words. “How is this my fault?”

“We had clear instructions.” Victor turned to her and lifted his hand, enumerating the instructions with a show of fingers. “Not to make sudden movements, not to take things from the monkeys, not to make eye contact. You disrespected all three!” His voice became slightly more aggressive, and part of him felt bad for it, but she had been careless. She needed to hear it. “You risked your life out there, and the only reason we are here now is because you got lucky! And for what , Andrea? To read some texts you shouldn’t even be reading in the first place? It’s our honeymoon! Can’t you let go of work even now?”

Victor braced for her angry comeback, but the comeback never came. She simply looked at him with sad eyes, and dove deeper under the comforter.

“You are right, I am sorry, I got distracted.” Her voice was weak and defeated, and that hurt Victor more than any furious retort. “I didn’t reply to any of the texts, and I don’t intend to. I’m sorry I ruined our honeymoon.”

That last sentence was the final slap, the one that ended the discussion. Victor was still furious, but now he was the target of his own rage. At a loss for words, he simply left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving her to rest.

Of course she didn’t mean to get hurt. She was startled by the large incoming of messages, and forgot her surroundings. Besides, one can never predict behavior towards a wild animal. She acted out of instinct.

Regretfully, Victor had been extremely unforgiving towards her. It was rather incomprehensible how he was usually so good and putting aside his feelings when making decisions, while with Andrea he simply couldn’t do it. His heart spoke louder every time, jumbling his thoughts and clouding his judgment, and no matter how hard he would try, it would always get the best of him. Victor sighed and poured himself some whiskey from the bar, hoping it would relax him and clear his mind. Sadly, it was to no avail. The only thing that could soothe him was to know Andrea did not resent him.

After a while, he decided to order dinner, making sure he included his wife’s favorite dishes. After the food arrived and he set the table, he went to the room to wake her up, touching her forehead gently to check her temperature. She slowly opened her eyes and gazed at him sleepily, a neutral expression on her face, instead of the loving one she had for him. Although she didn’t seem to be angry, she was probably still upset.

“Dinner is served.” His hand rested softly on her shoulder, assessing her reaction. “Does it still hurt?”

“No, I mean, It’s a bit tender, but... I’m alright.” She answered with a soft voice, her tone indicating she was open for communication. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”

Andrea got up slowly with his loving hand helping her. He looked into her eyes, the ones that always gave him so much comfort. Without much thought, Victor pulled her into a hug, his silent apology. She hugged him back, leaning her head on his chest.

“Andrea…” He needed to apologize for being so rude. If only there were words that matched his feelings. He simply couldn’t find them.

“I know the man I married.” She smiled at him. “He may be sometimes harsh, and despite his rational ways, he can blow things way out of proportion, but I know he has a good heart, and he means well. I know he loves me and he cares.” She softly brushed his bangs with her fingers. “And I love and care for him too.”

Victor smiled at the love of his life, finally allowing himself to relax. She was safe, and she was his. And it dawned on him that’s exactly what a happy marriage is supposed to be like. Not perfect, but loving, even when one of them shows his ugly side.

“Maybe the monkeys heard me call that place a cemetery, and thought I wanted to kill them all.” She turned to him with a smirk. “They are not taking any monkey business.”

Victor glared at her, unamused.

“Too soon?” She grimaced.

“I’m the one who almost had a heart attack with your monkey business.” He pulled her closer. “So, yes, too soon.”

Victor held Andrea tenderly, feeling grateful for having her safe in his arms. He wondered if there were any deities watching for her at the moment she was hurt and thanked them for the protection. Just in case.