#China is the ideal place for you to travel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

no1frogfan · 21 days ago

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John Price x fem reader

Word count: 2.5k

Tags & warnings: secret identity, 1800s British Empire, maritime bullshit, you’re Mulan-ing it in the 19th century so expect some depictions of misogyny and racism, 60% actual history and 70% made up shit, later chapters will probably have some violence/smut/angst I’m sure

Note: Welcome to my John Price obsession. This is all because I cannot get World’s Daddiest (Sea) Captain John Fucking Price out of my goddamn head. I want him to [redacted] in my [redacted] and [redacted] my [redacted] until I [redacted]. In an ideal world, the 30 plot points I’ve meticulously outlined in my head will leap out of my brain onto the page as a 150k word novel. This is not an ideal world, but I might write a few more pieces in this au. Please yell at me about how much you love John Price and I WILL YELL BACK. THANK YOU to my two wonderful beta readers @paleokarst and @owoasis for combing through this piece :*

Once the preparations were finally in place, all that was left to do was to slip some sleeping draught into the night’s tea, leave your note on the bedside table, and kiss your mother and sister goodbye. They’ll be heartbroken when they wake, but hopefully they’ll understand. You have to do this for your father, and for them.

The painful truth of the matter was that without your father’s income, the three of you had been barely scraping by. Embroidery could only fetch so much money, even with your mother’s delicate hand and designer’s eye. The strain in her shoulders had become a constant, and the hunch in her back grew more pronounced each passing day. Your sister, too, had begun to suffer eye strain from helping late into the night.

At her age, you had lived a life of comparable luxury—hearty meals, passable tutors, leisure time spent trailing after your father and his apprentices in the workshop. They were happy to indulge you, and though you became more than proficient over the years, his clients never came around to letting a mere woman near their expensive timepieces.

With no patience for embroidery, your only contribution since your father’s imprisonment had been to manage the household, cleaning and maintaining the rooms, keeping atop the spending, and stretching what meager food you could afford into edible (if not tasty) meals for the three of you. On occasion, Lady Laswell hired you for an odd job or two, considerate of the close friendship between you and her son, Alexander. Those extra shillings were immediately squirreled away for your father’s bail.

Even so, it would take at least ten years of scrimping pennies to save enough to free your father. You’d done the calculations a hundred times. Who knows what might happen in ten years? He may not even…you shudder to think. But what could you do except keep trudging forward?

That’s why when the idea struck you, it had almost felt like divine intervention.

Unusually free from appointments one morning, your mother lingered over breakfast, exclaiming over yesterday’s newspaper (you remembered thinking it was kind of Mrs. Bird to keep her husband’s old papers for your mother, and that you ought to send a token of thanks).

“Oh! Perhaps she’ll set a record this time…”

“Who?”

“How have you not heard? Honestly, it’s all anyone has been talking about this week!”

Your mother turns the paper toward you with fond exasperation, tapping at a picture of a boat.

SECOND TIME’S THE CHARM? The China tea-clipper, named Cutty Sark, might be the fastest in the world, if not for bad weather and worse luck! Her maiden voyage from London to Hankow saw her travelling at an average speed of 254 miles per day, or at the rate of 12 1/4 statute miles per hour. This certainly is a most wonderful speed for a sailing vessel, and, we believe, has never been surpassed or equalled. The ship was built by Messrs Scott & Linton, Dumbarton, for John Willis & Sons of London. Considerable interest is vested this season on her second voyage, bound for Shanghai on 12th June. Ship owner Mr. John Willis puts his faith in Captain John Price to break the record this time. Thermopylae set the record last year, sailing from Shanghai to London in just 122 days! ABLE SEAMEN, experienced CARPENTERS, and STEWARDS WANTED at once for the Cutty Sark. Good wages. Must have good reference.—Apply John Willis & Sons, London.

You placate her with an interested hum as you skim the article. Your mother’s excitement over spectacle and intrigue have always been endearing.

It wasn’t until a week later that a plan clicked into place.

At breakfast again, your mum (aghast but fascinated) read aloud a report on a murder trial in the colonies.

WOMAN POSES AS MAN IN SENSATIONAL MURDER Scarcely has the shock caused by the discovery of the murdered man had time to abate, when it was discovered that the crime was committed by his wife in disguise! On Sunday, Brigid McKay was charged with causing the death of her husband, Duncan McKay, brickmaker, by the Port Macquarie courts in the Colony of New South Wales. The facts as presented to the court are these: Constable Davies was patrolling Joffre Street at a quarter to three o’clock on the morning of 5th May when he heard a shout and discovered a man between 45 and 50 years of age with a deep wound on his head. He spied another man running away from the scene and gave chase, losing him in the winding alleyways. Police later found a bloodied bundle of men’s clothing, including a cap, trousers, and jacket which Constable Davies confirmed were of a kind worn by the suspect. Upon questioning the wife at the couple’s home, police discovered a bloody brick hidden among the deceased’s wares. After the evidence was presented by the prosecution, the wife pled guilty to the brutal crime and was sentenced to death by hanging. She will be held at Port Macquarie Gaol until her execution.

Everything after that came together easily enough, though it did take a few weeks to pull off. Chest bindings and two sets of servant’s clothes were quickly procured, and though Lady Laswell initially refused, she eventually agreed (albeit with great reluctance and no small amount of cajoling from Alexander) to write a letter of reference. Considering their family’s influence, that letter alone most likely got you the job, especially considering your conspicuous lack of experience on a ship.

The hardest part had been to keep your preparations secret. It was a stroke of luck that Lady Barlow placed an unexpected order for two pairs of embroidered silk gloves. The intricate twining rose vines kept your mother and sister occupied late into the night for weeks. It would have otherwise been difficult to conceal the numerous trips you made into the city.

After gathering your bags and stopping quickly at a barber’s (whose skill at men’s hair and discretion were both well paid for), you finally stand in front of the Cutty Sark.

What a sight she is in the dawn light.

She may not be as large as most of the other ships in port, but she’s sleek—purpose-built for speed. On her prow, the figure of a woman in a white, flowing robe with breasts bare thrusts one hand forward, grasping a tuft of hair. Three gigantic masts jut up from the main deck, criss-crossed with dozens of ropes and riggings. Her dark silhouette looms menacing as a sea-beast against the pale orange sky.

The docks around her are a flurry of activity. A few men scurry around checking the cargo being pulled out of nearby warehouses. Dozens more of all races and descriptions lumber up and down the boarding ramp, ferrying crates and barrels up from the docks to secure in the hold.

“Ye boardin’ or sightseein’?”

You yelp, wincing at the shrillness of the sound.

A behemoth of a man shoves past to board the ship with a muttered daft ‘apeth under his breath, words muffled by a black cloth tied over the bottom half of his face.

You’ve barely processed the insult before a heavy hand slaps down on your shoulder. You’re greeted by another mountain of a man with a sharp grin and one of the strangest haircuts you’ve ever seen—shorn close on the sides with a stripe of hair down the middle.

“Dinnae mind him lad. He’s always up tae high doh before a launch.”

“He’s not so bad once you get to know him,” laughs a third man with a dazzling smile who follows behind Strange Hair. It’s hard not to gawk, considering he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, with eyelashes long enough to make Cléo de Mérode jealous.

“First day, I take it? Come on then.”

They make their way aboard and you scuttle after them.

The pace on the main deck is just as frenetic. Perhaps it’s your heightened nerves, but even the gentle rocking of the ship in harbor unsettles your stomach. The bindings pinch uncomfortably with every step and you long to adjust them.

You clutch your belongings close, squeezing into an out-of-the-way corner while you figure out who to report to. That’s when it really hits you: this is the worst idea you’ve ever had.

You would have wagered on your life that you’d never get a chance as good as this to free your father, but now that it’s here, it’s hard not to have second thoughts. Could you actually pull this off? If (or more likely, when) you’re discovered out in the open ocean, there would be nowhere to run. What kind of punishment would you receive for disguising yourself? Getting this job under false pretenses? A hefty fine and prison time would probably be the best case scenario, but it’s not the most likely one…

Lost in your thoughts, it takes a few moments to realize Strange Hair is beckoning you.

“Lad! Here, lad! Ye look lost,” he observes when you hasten to where he stands with Eyelashes and Face Covering.

“That obvious?” Embarrassment floods you, but you quickly tamp it down. “I’ve been hired by Mr. Willis as the officer’s steward, but I’m not sure who to report to.”

“‘S tha’ righ’? A steward with no manners?” Face Covering snarls.

You stagger back, unnerved by his sudden hostility. Strange Hair steps in quickly, straining with the effort of holding the larger man back, lips moving a mile a minute with words too quiet for you to catch. Eyelashes, meanwhile, stands relaxed at their side, as if the scene brooks no concern. It eases you just enough to take in the three men in front of you—white buttoned shirts under double-breasted frock coats, trousers, bicorne hats tucked under their arms. For some reason, they’re dressed much more genteelly than the sailors hauling cargo.

A whispered shite leaves your lips when you finally realize: they’re officers.

Eyelashes waves off your panicked apologies with another easy smile. “No harm done. So, you’re our new steward?”

“Yes, sir.”

He claps you hard on the arm. “We’ll be seeing a lot of each other then. I’m Garrick, Second Mate. Everyone calls me Gaz. The one with the hair is Soap. He’s Third Mate. And this huge bloke is our First Mate, Ghost.”

Ghost (no longer visibly murderous but still intimidating) doesn’t deign to acknowledge you. Instead, his eyes flick to Gaz. “The Captain’s in ‘is quarters.”

Heeding his unspoken order, Gaz dutifully leads you toward the officers’ cabins near the aft of the deck.

Your room is the first on the right upon entering the cabin. It’s small, about what you’d expect for ship’s quarters, and it looks to be half storage as well. A tiny bed is attached to the far wall, and the rest of the room is taken up by a narrow cabinet stacked with serving ware. You’re delighted to see there’s only one bed—you’ll have some privacy, thank God.

“That’s my room. Soap and I share.”

Gaz points to the room across from yours. It’s bigger, though the space is filled by a large bunk bed and two small trunks.

He then gestures at the open door of the room beside yours.

“Your neighbor’s Ghost.”

You peek in furtively. It’s the same size as Gaz and Soap’s room, but with only one bed (even larger, though it’s still difficult to imagine Ghost fitting into it). The rest of the space is filled with what seems to be casks of liquor.

“And finally, the captain’s quarters.”

Gaz knocks on the door at the back of the officers’ cabins, waiting patiently for a gruff “come in” before leading you inside. It’s not as sumptuous as you imagined, but it’s certainly better appointed than the other rooms. A wash basin stands just inside the door with a small mirror affixed above it and a shaving set placed neatly to its right (you balk at the straight razor—surely only a lunatic would dare to use anything but a safety razor on a ship). The bed is anchored to the far wall next to a modest dresser-slash-end table. The middle of the room is dominated by a large desk where the captain sits illuminated by lantern light, poring over a stack of maps.

“The new steward for you, Cap.”

You recognize him the instant he turns—Captain John Price. Newspaper photos don’t do him justice. His dark brown hair is cropped short—much shorter than the prevailing style—though his facial hair is styled in fashionable mutton chops, trimmed and neat. Shrewd aquamarine eyes appraise you from beneath furrowed brows. He’s not as massive as Ghost, but somehow exudes a more commanding presence, even while seated.

“That’ll be all, Garrick. Go keep an eye on the cargo.”

“Aye, sir.”

It’s silent for a long minute after Gaz closes the door.

“Name, lad?”

“Harris, sir. Jack Harris.”

“Right.” He draws up to his full height, head grazing the ceiling joists of the small room. “Harris. What the hell kind of idiot do you think I am? You haven’t got a lick of experience on a ship. And come to look at you—me mam’s got fingers thicker than your arms! You wouldn’t last a bloody week. I don’t give a rat’s arse what Willis said, I’ve a mind to sack you ri-”

“No! Please, Captain! I can do it! I have experience! I- I have excellent references, sir!”

His lips thin—definitely a man who’s not used to being interrupted—and his voice lowers to an ominous growl. “So I’m told. But here’s what I don’t understand: Why would a servant with a cushy little domestic job want to up and join a merchant ship, huh? You runnin’ from somethin’, lad?”

“No, please, sir! I just- it pays more. I need the money.”

“Money? For what?”

“My mother, sir. She’s ill and her treatments are expensive.” The lie rolls off your tongue, just like you practiced. Alexander was actually the one who came up with it—close enough to the truth to be believable. It had taken ages for him to convince his mother to go along with it, but Lady Laswell eventually caved on that as well.

Captain Price peers down his nose at you, and you do your best to emote the sincere worry you feel for your mother’s health.

“And the Laswells? They refuse to help?”

“Quite the opposite, sir. I don’t want to take advantage of their generosity.”

After another strained moment, he finally draws back.

“Fine. Consider this trip a test. If you pass, I will consider keeping you on. If you fail, you’ll fend for yourself at the next port.”

“Thank you, you won’t regret it, sir!”

“We’ll see about that,” he grumbles. “Fetch us an ale then. And tell Ghost to report to my quarters.”

“Right away, sir!”

You rush to the galley bursting with equal parts excitement and trepidation, dodging the last of the cargo being loaded. There’s truly no turning back now.

#john price x reader #price x reader #cod x reader #john price #captain john price #froggy scribbles

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myna33 · 5 months ago

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Pillbug

Should’ve left earlier. Car is making that sound again. I’m tired.

Thing is, they don't warn you. They turn up where they like, take their pick, and move on. Only thing to do is keep an eye on the news and head out soon as a report comes in. If it’s more than two- or three-day’s drive you may as well stay put because they don’t wait around. I’ve wasted too much gas—too much time—not to know that.

I hang right a few blocks from downtown and almost hop the curb when I find a spot. Douse the headlights. Recline. Listen to the radio for a while. All the local stations are talking about the lightshow, but I don’t want to hear it, bitter as I am. So I flip through until I catch coverage of, I don’t know what, a baseball game? It doesn’t matter. All I need is the sound of talking. If I’m smart, I’ll remember to shut them up before I doze off and run my battery down. But it wouldn’t be the first time I forgot.

All around the houses are dark. It’s three in the morning and distantly, quietly I hear a train whistle. Freight making its way faster than I ever will. I zip my coat to the chin and turn up the collar. Jam the last pair of handwarmers deep in my gloves. Turn off the heat and watch my breath clouding out in front of me, caught by the streetlamp. Not winter breath, high and solid and white, but spring breath. Pale steam in amber light.

….

The first lightshow was two years ago, off the coast of China. It hung around there for a few days (longest of any of them) and nearly got a war going. I remember this neighbor of mine—guy with stringy hair I used to buy weed off—going on and on about drones. But within the month things got too weird for the usual stories. They were everywhere, flashing in and out, sometimes in hundreds of places at once.

I was back in Indianapolis then, working my uncle’s landscaping business. Still telling people I’d go back for that last year of school. Eventually, the lights started taking people. Once, a plane went down in Nebraska or one of those other big, empty states. At first the news said equipment malfunction, but there weren't any bodies so everybody knew that was bull. Pretty soon after they downed and canceled most flights. I'd never been on a plane, and now it was too late.

….

I wake up.

Knocking next to my head. A badge. Blotchy red face.

I roll down the window.

“Sir,” he says. I can see a piece of myself in the passenger-side mirror, curled up around my stomach like an animal.

“What’s up?”

“No sleeping in cars.”

“Sorry. Didn’t know.”

“Sure. You have business around here?” He braces himself against the door. His arm is shaking.

“Yeah, my, uh—my brother. But I got into town late. He wasn’t up to let me in.”

“Sure. Well. Keep in mind the travel restrictions, right? You did hear about those?”

“Oh. Don’t go anywhere you don’t have lodging. But I do have it. Lodging, I mean.”

“That’s good. If it's true.”

“It is. I'll clear out soon.”

He backs off, boots slopping around in the river of melt outside my door. “Don’t let me catch you again. Wouldn’t be the first I’ve brought in this weekend.” I lose sight of him as he moves back along the car, hunkered down, vanishing into the milky glass.

Usually I'd've slept in, the ideal being to sleep days and walk nights. But that’s out of the question now; too many eyes on me. Going out after sundown is also illegal, of course, but there’s no enforcing that. Not with a town’s population doubled, tripled maybe, and everybody in the streets. They’d have to move every officer in the state around like whack-a mole. Not that they don’t try. I’m tired. Maybe to lots of people twenty-seven is young. It doesn’t feel like it. What the hell were you thinking, not booking a fucking room? Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

….

Walking now. Ends of my pantlegs all wet with muck and crusted up with road salt and palms sticky from the dregs of the handwarmers. Everywhere there are leaves. Left over from last season’s raking and sapped of their reds and oranges long before the thaw, in soaking heaps along the road. The first daffodils are here, too, and just like my grandma’s. This could’ve been my town—if I wasn’t looking closely. I can remember her daffodils in a bed set off with old, rotted logs. I remember…pillbugs. Little grey pillbugs skittering when I turn the logs over. That wormy, musky smell in the air. Rain smell. Her in a candy-striped lawn chair with the nylon bleached and fraying. Tapping her cigarette in an ashtray full of rainwater. All of it is still there somehow, even if the edges are fuzzy.

You know, this might be the first time I’ve kept at something I’m so bad at. I haven’t even kept at a lot of stuff I was good at. People think I’m lazy, but would a lazy person live like this? I don’t think so. A lazy person would take real advantage of times like these; just kick back, and eat microwave dinners, and jack it. They wouldn’t be sleeping out in the cold. I imagine lazy people have smooth insides that hang loose. My insides are bunched up all the time. I can barely eat anymore.

That said, I find a place. A kind of breakfast place with laminated menus, where the air is so rich it turns your stomach. I’m keeping my head down because there are news people here. Some are wearing those bright-colored jackets with logo patches. Others aren’t wearing anything special, but you can tell anyway from how loud they talk. Something prickling at the edges of their eyes. At the corner of their lips.

A man plops down across from me in the booth, sliding right up against the window.

“Mind? Sorry. Place is packed.”

“No.”

“No? No like it’s fine or no like ‘leave me alone.’” He smiles a big one with his stained teeth.

“No, you can sit. Go ahead. Sorry.”

Whips off his hat and rakes thinning hair across a tight, shiny scalp. Leans in. Vibrating in his seat. Trying very hard to hit it off. Come across light and conversational.

“So, you here for the lights?”

“I don’t know anything about that. I’m here visiting my brother.”

“Is that so? Hope the traffic hasn’t been a problem for you. My crew had a hell of a time getting into town. Finding beds, too. Word is that California and some other states are gonna try to shutter hotels, restaurants—hospitality whatever—in places where the lights turn up. Try to cut down on this type of shit.”

“Crew? Are you like a reporter or something?”

“Yeah, the Dispatch. Isn’t it crazy? Never thought there’d be one so close. I’m scared, mind you. I mean, I never thought—it’s a big chance is all. I’m really curious about these moths. You know that’s what they’re calling themselves now? Some of them anyway.”

“Yeah, did you hear about that one who drove his truck through a barricade? Three people died in that.” Make it unpleasant. Put him off.

“Sure. Chicago, right? But these aren’t violent people. Mostly. I’m not curious in, like, a ‘look at the freaks’ way.”

“How are you curious then?”

“I don’t know. They're like storm chasers. Like they’re playing pretend scientist or something. But I don’t buy that. Something else going on with em.’ It’s a solid article, anyway.”

The waitress comes over and takes our drink orders. Coffee, no cream. And a water. Something else. Something else. Something else.

We talk for some time, actually. He tells me he interviewed some kid just half an hour back who looked “way too young to be doing this.”

"How is some kid just running around unsupervised? Under a curfew, no less?"

“I don’t know,” I say. And mean it. Plenty of people younger than me and smarter than me chase them. The lightshows are on social long before any broadcast people pick them up; long, long before the newspapers do.

“You see that?” He’s showing me these pictures. People showing off the bruises they’d gotten from cops in Philly. No live rounds there yet, but who can tell when the claws will come out. Things are getting uglier the longer it goes on. The clearer we all see that things aren’t going back.

“Nah, I don’t have a profile.”

“Seriously? I would’ve thought—never mind. Actually, maybe that’s better. Stuff rots your brain.” He’s busy cleaning some stray egg off his watch so I take another bite of toast. Hate people watching me eat. I don’t even have a phone anymore, but I don’t tell him that.

“Yeah, I’ve got a profile for work. Awful. Used to be that when someone wanted to complain at me they’d have to leave a message at the office. But now? Anyway, there’s this lady my friend interviewed who thinks she has some kind of thing going on with our visitors. She’s got thousands of people following her on—.” He snaps his fingers, eyes on the ceiling. “Whatever. Anyway—she thinks you can call them down, with intentions.”

“Like, just wanting them badly enough?”

“I guess. Maybe pass me some of that creamer? Thanks. And yeah, it’s anyone’s guess. Probably just trying to sell vitamins or something.”

….

It was a bitter day in January when the curfew came down. Only a few months after flights were canceled. I’d quit coming to work before they pivoted to snow removal and I’d basically stopped answering calls. Hey kid? You know, it’s pretty shit of you to just drop off like this. And it’s not even about the replacement; already got one. You know how worried your parents are? They keep calling, and what am I supposed to tell them?

My roommate, Kev, was late getting back from work so I held off on starting dinner and sat around, half-watching the news. The bags under the governor’s eyes. Humvees idling in the road. Boots splattered with road crud. A news panel with a meteorologist, an aerospace engineer, and some natsec guy. The meteorologist apologizing, saying “we just don’t have any solid data to predict these things, or even say for sure what they are.”

I almost miss him coming in. “Hey, you hear they’re not letting people out after eight? Is your store just gonna close early or what?” Nothing. He tries throwing his coat over the back of the couch, but it slides down to the floor in a wet pile. Without stopping, without even looking, he heads up the stairs. Must’ve been a bad shift, right? But no, that wasn’t it. Kev’s sister had went for a weekend trip at her boyfriend’s, parents’ cabin and never came back. Parents hit up her school two weeks later and no dice.

Are you comfortable assuring the American people that these, uh, events, are not of military origin? Yes, I can assure them that these are not of foreign—domestic, for that matter—military construction. Well, that begs the question, then, of where all these people are going? You know, I think that, um, strikes our viewers as potentially hostile activity.

I could hear him from downstairs. “How should I know?! She’s an adult, isn’t she? She can skip if she likes. Probably just fucking around. Like last time.” He took a long shower that night and went straight to his room after.

….

Something would’ve felt bad about going back to the car. Instead, I find a bench downtown and work on my notes. Doug, the man from the breakfast place, gave me his card and a pocket notepad with the name of his job on it. Friendly? Or maybe I just look like a kid. A tall, gaunt, slumped-in kid. In it, I begin to work up to-dos and suggestions for myself. The waitress’ pen is low on ink, but if I press hard enough the letters come out in fits and starts. Number one is to check my oil, because the car is making that sound again.

Number two is all about getting up to speed. Lots of things aren’t in my life because I could never have had them, or never did, or they would stick me down when I need to keep moving. An apartment? That would cost rent and rent’s money you can’t spend on gas and gas I need to keep moving. So you can understand my reasoning for not having those things. But a phone? A person in my position should really have a phone. I wouldn’t have to rely on the radio and library computers, then. It would also be a good idea to get some canned food; restaurants use too much money and time and talking.

A woman is crossing the lot near me, one hand busy with her daughter and the other lugging what might be groceries.

“Help with that?”

Her eyes dart over me, up and down.

“We’ll be fine. Thank you.”

Jesus. What do I look like? I head over to this little clothing boutique a few stores down. Wouldn't it be weird just to use their mirror and leave? Without trying something on? But it's a women’s store full of things I shouldn't wear, so I just grab some sunglasses and take those to the changing room. Nobody seems to notice, but I feel my throat tightening anyway. It’s hard knowing how to act anymore. We’re all so out of practice.

Honestly, I don’t look all that bad. Shirt’s wrinkly, but that’s what you get for wearing what you slept in. I do keep clean. Wear deodorant. Even when I sleep in the car. Little things I hold myself accountable for. After Kev left it got hard to do that. Or pay rent. But it got easier to be light and fast. It gets so easy it’s scary. And even then—not enough.

….

Hey bud, haven’t heard from you in a while. Your mom and I just want you to know that if things didn’t work out with your uncle you still have a place here. All we’d have to do is get the boxes out of your room. Is everything okay? Wh–what’s that honey?—your mom says she found this big box of your old school papers you might want to go through. It’s getting pretty crazy out there, isn’t it? You wouldn’t believe the Zimmermans. They actually headed up to see family in Michigan and we haven’t heard from them in weeks. Anyway, please, please don’t leave us in the dark. Don’t mind your uncle. Anyway, room’s hear if you want it. You know we love you!

End of messages. Press one to rep—

“Are you getting those?”

“I don’t think so. I do like them. But I already have a pair. I do like them, though.”

….

So far, there's no way of telling how the lights work. Random? Maybe. Planned? Maybe? Somewhere in between? Anybody's guess. Could be that they chose where to go and who to lift a long time ago. If that's the case I'm wasting my time, I guess.

When I was twelve or something, maybe, I used to ride around at night on my bike. Sometimes with a friend, sometimes alone. One night, alone, I rode out so far on a county road that there were no more cars. I laid down and stretched out against the asphalt. Little shards of rock bit at my palms and wrists, and the asphalt was still warm from the sun beating on it all day. It was a bean year, not a corn year, and above their leaves the fireflies wheeled around.

It was so dark you could see the galaxy’s long arm stretching out into the black, pointing or beckoning. You never realize how much is out there until the lights are turned off. A murmuring glow older than any car or road, or the town behind me. Waiting, all along. Looking at them is almost like sinking. Holding your breath until things get quiet and still.

….

It’s getting near dusk.

There are people all around now. A policeman on a megaphone announces that the main roads in and out of town will be barricaded; anyone with no good business being here should get out before the arrests begin. A sweat-smelling man next to me throws a cup of soda at him and is brought down and his hands tied behind his back. That eager, animal smell is everywhere. I remember the bus jerking under me on school trips, sweat gluing my pale legs to vinyl. Crowding into the basement when the sky bruises and buckles and the leaves show their silver underbelly. Something is going to happen. Something, anything must happen.

….

“I’m sure she’ll turn up. I used to be like that. Just disappear for a while.” Cold comfort, I know. Kev also knows, and says nothing. He says very little anymore. For the past month I have only seen him when he crosses from the front door to the stairs, eyes straight ahead. Something must be different today. He has lingered in the living room with me. Heated up some rice. Pretended to watch the news sputtering on in loops. Waiting, I guess, for me to cross over.

“You ever do something like that? When you were a kid. Just gone for six whole weeks?”

“No. I guess I never really did that kinda thing.”

He turns and I see his wide, wet eyes. He picks at his arm.

“You know what? If they’d stop running around trying to corral everyone maybe they’d actually get somewhere. Like, they can’t find her because they’re too busy keeping track of everybody else.” He wipes the snot away from his nose and keeps chewing. It takes him a long time to chew, like he doesn’t really want the food to go down. “Like, why even fuck around with that? They can’t stop them, you know? What a waste.”

I put my hand on his shoulder and find it stiff, almost too stiff to be flesh. He gets up, eventually. He’ll be gone in another week. I’ll help his father carry out the very same couch we’re sitting on, leaving wounds in the thin carpet. His father will look down and toe at them, ask how I’m holding up while Kev finishes packing. Then, they’ll shrink away down the street. With half the furniture gone the house seems to balloon around me, a too-big prop I can only hide in until I'm discovered.

….

Night is here. The streetlamps are lit, but towering sodium lamps have outdone them, igniting hundreds of teeming heads. Underfoot are leaves and trash and discarded signs. A carpet of soiled cardboard and tracked-in filth. They have stumbled across the barricades. They stand on cars, mailboxes, and stolen lawn furniture. A group of ten or more have climbed atop the diner with a case of beer and they hurl their empties down at the cops. A beanbag hits one in the chest and he is still grinning when he falls and his leg breaks under him. I am in the crowd, and they brush me with their shoulders when they pass, but I am not part of all this. The gap between us has only, temporarily, shrunk.

The sky above us is a flat blackness. More than clouds. The light which presses so hard into us just can't make a dent in it. Those sodium floods cower, feral and small, having met and recoiled from the edge of their territory. More police roll into the intersection with some kind of truck but they, too, shrink back. We can try, but it is out of our hands. Something, anything.

“Hey! You.”

Doug is here again, hat long gone.

“Just visiting your brother, right? Knew you were holding out on me. You seeing this shit?”

“Sure.”

“Well?!”

“Not tonight.”

“What are you talking about? Come on. Still time to talk before the show, right? What brings you?”

“Not tonight. I know it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I should’ve moved earlier.” There is something warm on my cheek. Against the bridge of my nose. In the hollow of my neck. He looks sorry. “I should’ve moved, but I’m not fast enough. You can only go so fast.”

He does not stop me when I leave. Over and behind us, the show is beginning. The lights glint on and begin to school. They dip and weave, and when they dip the whole dark of the sky comes down with them. Pulled downward and inward. A tendril seeking its bride.

….

“Can we go to the pool?”

“Pool isn’t open yet sweetie—till June. Anyway, I don’t believe your parents would want you there with only me to watch over. You gave them quite a scare last time.”

Grandma. Tapping away the ash. Rubbing her knee, and then her calf, blotched with age.

“What’ve you got there?”

A pillbug, is what I have. I have stolen its cover and exposed it to the sodden, grey sky. It has frozen in place. Is it waiting for me to make some kind of decision? I wonder how often it sees any light at all. I pick it up delicately and it curls in on itself, in surrender. A small life giving itself over to chance.

…..

The people surge forward and backward, unsure of their want. And anyway, it doesn't matter. The tendril found whoever it was looking for.

Somewhere, distantly, a gun fires. And somewhere, something is on fire. The warm stings my eyes and glues them shut. My legs carry me back to the car, over something pale and bent-in on the ground. And I drive. Up in the grass around the barricade. Out and way.

I drive in no particular direction for no particular amount of time. If the car makes any noise I don't notice. My limbs quietly perform what little movement is required while mind and stomach turn over and over and over.

Above, the dark breaks up. Becomes layered and familiar. When color begins to show through I pull off at a rest stop.

The salt of my face runs into my mouth. There is a shred of daffodil on my front, left tire. My handwarmers, damp with sweat, are still in my gloves. Pull them out.

I am crying and the sky, pink and open, will sometime soon be blue. And I will get new handwarmers. And I will wipe off my face. And if I am not too old, too tired, too slow, I will turn back on my radio and listen for them.

I have been picked over. This time.

#mynafic

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chihirolovebot · 7 months ago

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🥂🏖 physouma please

🥂 | what would happen if they got drunk together

hdhfhfg.... they both have very low tolerance bc neither of them drink that often i think so i think it would be very funny . if it's a group setting where lots of people are drinking i think phys gets emotional and teary abt how much they love him and ouma gets clingier than ever and whines whenever phys tries to so much as go to the bathroom . they end up going together and phys cant bring themself to feel embarrassed abt peeing in front of him bc hes lounging in the empty bathtub soliloquising about silly things or singing offkey to the music in the background . probably end up falling asleep together in a dumb place like the stairs or the coat cupboard

🏝 | their ideal getaway

hmmm ... i dont think phys particularly fucks with heat but they are accustomed to travel . ouma, despite studying several languages and being pretty fluent in a couple of them ( in my headcanon, english and russian, with lesser understanding in italian, german and cantonese ) has never actually left japan. so i think for their first vacation they'd choose somewhere close to home like korea or china . after a bit they get a little more adventurous and decide on a scandanavian country!! phys wants to see the stars and northern lights so they decide on iceland, with one of those hotels you can see the aurora borealis out of, and starry wellness spas and flotation tanks and pools. i think they go all out and get massages too . its actually super romantic,, maybe for an anniversary or something :')

#dear venus.#🏚.sleep awake

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crossstitchandjoy · 4 months ago

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20 Tiny Cross Stitch World Famous Locations Set

🧵🌍 Explore the world one tiny stitch at a time with this 20 Tiny Cross Stitch World Famous Locations Set—a charming collection of mini patterns featuring iconic landmarks and natural wonders from across the globe. From the Great Wall of China to beloved USA destinations, each design is simple, small, and beginner-friendly—perfect for quick stitching sessions or travel-inspired DIY decor.

Whether you're dreaming of faraway places or celebrating spots close to home, these tiny cross stitch patterns are a fun way to stitch your bucket list! Ideal for hoop art, greeting cards, ornaments, or journal pages, each design is easy to follow and full of global charm.

🧳 Available on Etsy

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Cross Stitch and Joy may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you via trusted partners and affiliates. Availability is accurate as of time blog post date/time.

#cross stitch #crafting #cross stitch pattern #hand stitching #needlework #etsy finds #crafts #crafters #etsy #diy #travel #traveling #travel locations #travel art #diy projects #diy craft

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kickthecanrevolution · 1 year ago

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Random Monday morning thoughts

Anxiety dreams of a 2pm flight to China and it was ten past noon on my old fashioned wall clock - I still hadn’t called a Lyft and was running around trying to find a warm jacket to pack. I haven’t had one of those dreams in awhile.

Work wise, I feel like I’m at a party at the end of the evening and I’ve decided/told the host I’m leaving - now I’m just at the door, waiting for my friends I came with to say their goodbyes. The party is over and I’m calm because I know I’m leaving, I’m not there anymore.

I’m quieter in this election year - it’s mostly a deep interior re-wiring of my beliefs. The Palestinian genocide is not something I can speak of, horror that doesn’t have a language for me. You know something’s evil when they target kids. That the USA will not push for a ceasefire has left me upside down on who we are, what I align to politically and where I live. I’m reading a lot about the world stage, the macro-danger across Western Allies vs our stated enemies and see how close we are to a WW3. How the USA is a protector in so many ways I didn’t understand, the US Navy protecting the cargo ships moving across the world, etc. a protector of basic capitalism, I guess, but as we do that less due to withdrawal of military funding, pirates popped up 27x more in those areas. I saw it keenly in my international travel - the role we play on the world stage, seeing the US as a “protector” through other’s eyes. Those same people are terrified as we buddy up to Russia via Tucker Carlson, etc., only because of what it means for their basic safety. They don’t care that the US seems to be rotted at our core. I get it.

One perspective says we need a War to start over in the USA but war has never adjusted or dismantled underlying systems like capitalism, it’s just fueled it. Ultimately, the USA will use force in wartime, even on its own people. That will be a decision on what we want to die for. Another side says a war will cause the USA to do anything necessary to protect systems in place because we need them to win.

So what force will change the legal system? What catalyst? Is it organizing? That absolutely worked in the Civil Rights movement, but there had to be more catalysts than just that - what were they? What forced America to change? What kind of catalyst combinations are needed to change these foundational, old systems? 200 years isn’t old-old. Is it spiritual? My intuition is the visceral tribalism that human beings operate within for our identity and how we move through life and how that is expressed in American power systems - white, Zionist, Christian, Southern, Liberal, etc. is what we’ll need to let go of first, and that’s so much harder. Many of us are lost as human beings without those tribes, and letting go of that identity can be terrifying and destabilizing. And people will never do it unless they believe in the human experience we’ll have here when they do. Oddly, a World War were the only moments we set those aside temporarily because we had a common enemy greater than ourselves.

So how do we collectively/personally envision that outside of being in a war on our domestic land? Enough to let go of our current understanding of who they are? A world where Black people aren’t incarcerated at disproportional rates. Where kids in Gaza aren’t slaughtered. Where it’s national pride that every citizen has basic needs met, a universal income and living wage. How do we realign on the values of what makes a society truly great?

A World War feels probable so the politics on the US Stage seem almost inconsequential until I heard Trump say he’d encourage Putin to go after an ally. That made my blood run cold. Ultimately I come back to my progressive roots, that the government should prioritize the vulnerable, and that’s not me - I’m white, I have retirement funds and I am not going to get pregnant. There’s comfort in a few of those ideals still showing up in the larger Democratic Party when nothing else about being a Democrat feels true anymore. Maybe it never was. It’s enough for me to vote on, at least right now, but it’s lacking any real change. I see that now, that this basic organization of political party is now identity, which makes it even uglier, less impactful and a vehicle for toxicity vs real change.

It’s like the party is over, and we’re all just waiting.

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icwasher · 2 years ago

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THE DRAGONS WE SLAY

My entry for this year's @inklings-challenge on Team Chesterson! This was my first year doing this challenge, and though I don't usually write intrusive fantasy, I'm very glad I got put on team Chesterson because it made me step outside my comfort zone.

The story is set in 1895, and is loosely based on the Dragonology Book. It follows seven young Dragonologists as they are assigned to travel to the United States to investigate a disturbance in the world of dragons. The story can be read after the "read more" line.

Word Count: 3625

Nora rubbed her forehead, squinting at the figures Tomas had drawn up. “Explain it again, will you?”

Tomas nodded and pointed to a long number. “This represents the number of dragons counted in North America in 1885. And here–” he moved his finger down “is the number counted this year. The amount has dropped significantly in the past ten years, and we suspect it’s connected to the romanticization of dragon-slaying that has surfaced recently. And here are the numbers compared to the population of dragons in China, England, and South America.” His finger moved in a circular direction around the numbers. “The Dragonologists are worried this ideal will spread to other countries and result in a mass murder of dragons, and eventually several of the species will go extinct from such killings.”

Saanvi frowned from her position sprawled on the chaise longue, her thick black hair tumbling over the armrest. “What’s romantic about killing dragons?” she asked. “If a man wanted my devotion, the worst way to receive it would be to kill a dragon.”

“There are many stories centered around young knights receiving a princess’s hand by slaying a dragon,” said Tomas. “Such stories are often told to children, and those ideas could have set off a chain reaction resulting in an idea that killing a dragon would result in fame and riches. And, unfortunately, the people of the United States have only supported such delusions.”

“Does Theo know all of this?” asked Nora.

Tomas nodded. “I informed him of it before this meeting.”

Saanvi sat up. “Where is Theo? Didn’t he say the meeting would begin at seven?”

“Did he?” asked Nicolas, who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the whole conversation. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You’re here, though,” said Tomas. “You must have known when to come.”

“Saanvi got me right before it started,” Nicolas said with a raised-brow smile, his hands pressed in a steeple.

Nora rolled her eyes and settled into her chair, watching the door carefully. It wasn’t like Theo to be late, especially for a meeting he had said was “vitally important”. He had probably been held up by someone at the headquarters, but there was always a chance that something else could have happened.

Thankfully, the door opened and Theo walked in only moments later, his suit unbuttoned and hat placed crookedly on his head. He smiled at the room and dropped a stack of books onto his desk. Tomas perked up, shutting the journal he had so carefully recorded the dragon population in, and sized up the titles of the books Theo had brought in. “Children’s stories?”

Theo nodded. “All about dragons. Almost impossible to get my hands on too. The librarian didn’t want a grown man taking away what could be used for curious children.”

He took off his hat and suit coat, hooking them gently on the coat rack. Underneath the black wool of his suit, he wore a gray and blue waistcoat in paisley designs, subtle enough not to distract the eye. “Did you discuss anything important before I arrived?” he asked as he lowered himself onto the desktop, bracing his hands against the dark lacquered wood.

Tomas shook his head. “I filled them in on the current situation, but otherwise we spoke of nothing important.”

Theo nodded thoughtfully. “And Khepria isn’t here?”

“Khepria isn’t here?” asked Nicolas from the floor where he had been painstakingly sketching the grandfather clock in the corner. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Theo gave him a raised eyebrow and turned back to Tomas. “Did she tell you why she isn’t coming?”

“She said nothing to me,” said Tomas. “Nora?”

Nora wished she had an answer to give, but she didn’t, and her head shake was met with a sigh. “Does anyone know where Khepria is?”

Just as Saanvi opened her mouth as if to answer, the door opened and Khepria entered, her many braids swinging over her shoulders as she not-so-gracefully set down the parcel she had been carrying. “Next time you tell me to pick up your orders, Saanvi, don’t neglect to mention that your two pickups are ten miles apart.”

Saanvi smiled nervously. “Sorry?”

Khepria pressed her lips in a thin line. “You owe me a drink at the bar.”

“Deal.” Saanvi picked up the parcels and flashed a smile in Khepria’s direction. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Khepria sat down in her usual seat, the green wool chair right next to the fireplace. When Nora had asked her why she didn’t get hot sitting so close to the fire, Khepria had just said with an annoyed sneer that it reminded her of Egypt, where she had grown up. Nora supposed it made sense; England and Egypt had very different climates, though she had never been to Africa.

Theo clapped his hands together, snapping everyone’s attention to him. “Dr. Drake has asked us to do something for him,” he said.

“I don’t like where this is going,” whined Nicolas.

Saanvi slapped him on the shoulder. “Hush!”

Theo smiled appreciatively. “Thank you, Saanvi. Now, as I was saying, Dr. Drake has proposed something to me, which is partially the reason I was late. As you probably know, the people in the United States have recently been very eager to kill the dragons there, as it has become a symbol of heroism to slay a beast that–though it has little effect on the villages nearby–is in an area close to a town or a heavily populated working site.” He paused to take a breath. “Of course, the Society is horrified by these actions, and they wish for someone to travel to the United States and take care of this problem.”

“And you volunteered us, didn’t you,” said Khepria flatly.

Theo took a deep breath. “Well, yes–”

“Oh, come on!” cried Saanvi. She threw up her hands and gave Theo an impressive glare. “We’ve gone on two missions in the past three months. And all of them have been overseas! Couldn’t you have gotten us an assignment a little closer to home?”

“This mission is more important than patrolling the woods for knuckers,” Theo said, his eyes boring into Saanvi’s. “Dr. Drake even has reason to think that the division of the society in the United States has been corrupted, or that there are spies working for the Dragonologists and using classified information to kill dragons. The implications of this are horrendous. Just imagine if the children here grow up thinking that dragons are creatures to be slain. Would you want that?”

Nora felt Theo’s words sink in. He had a way of making others’ arguments feel petty, though Nora knew that wasn’t what he intended. Saanvi flushed and turned away. “When do we leave?” she asked.

Theo smiled. “Ten days,” he said, clasping his hands together. “We just have to wait for Nikandr to arrive.”

Nora felt her head turn sharply to give him an expression of shock and anger she didn’t think was possible, and in her peripheral vision saw the others do the same. Khepria was the first one to speak.

“Are you out of your mind!” she shouted, her hand flying in the air so fast it looked like a blur. “Nikandr is the worst possible addition to this expedition.”

“As if it wasn’t already bad enough,” Saanvi added.

Nicolas crossed his arms, all of his limbs in roughly the same position. “Really Theo?”

Nora felt an obligation to speak as well, though she tried to fashion her question with a bit more tact than the others had shown. “Are you sure this is the best idea?” she asked quietly. “Nikandr may be smart, but it hasn’t gone well when we’ve had him join us in the past.”

Theo looked at the ground. “It wasn’t my idea. Dr. Drake would like Nikandr to have some practice working in a group he himself is not in charge of. Submitting to authority isn’t his strong suit, apparently.”

“I think we all knew that already,” said Khepria, and Nora had to nod.

“Nevertheless,” said Theo optimistically, seemingly ignoring Khepria’s comment and Nora’s agreement, “he will be joining us and we will treat him with respect, no matter what he does. Understood?”

The group nodded, and Theo pressed his hands together excitedly. “I suppose that’s all for today,” he said. “I’ll purchase our tickets. Prepare to leave for the United States!”

It took them a little over a week to arrive, and by the time they made it to Virginia, Theo had just about lost all patience with Nikandr.

It wasn’t that the man didn’t have manners, or didn’t know how to conduct himself in public. He was a polite fellow when he desired. Unfortunately, those wishes did not seem to appear often.

Nikandr stood a few feet away now, his blonde hair framing his lightly tanned face. Tomas was next to him, and they were arguing about something. Tomas seemed to be losing.

Theo winced as Nikandr made what Theo assumed to be a rather clever jab and Tomas flushed. Tomas may be the smartest person Theo had ever met, but he tended to be rather unpracticed in the art of insulting others. Which, Theo supposed, was a good thing to be bad at, but insults were Nikandr’s specialty, and Theo knew that such wordplay would leave Tomas feeling unintelligent. He felt for his friend, and if he thought he’d be able to keep Nikandr from being so unkind, he would walk over right now and pull the man aside for a talk, preferably one that would leave Nikandr blushing as hard as Tomas.

Theo shook the thoughts from his head. No, that wasn’t the way to do things. He would continue his method, one he had assured Nora would work the night before when she had stomped into Theo’s room and issued a loud complaint about Nikandr’s behavior. Theo had been confident then, assuring her that all things would work out. But now, seeing how Nikandr squashed Tomas with just his little finger, he wasn’t so sure.

As Tomas hurried away from Nikandr’s presence Theo got closer, until both young men stood next to each other at the railing. Theo glanced carefully at Nikandr. “What were you and Tomas talking about.”

He tried to keep his tone jovial, but Nikandr must have sensed that Theo was pretending because he laughed and said, “I’m sure it won’t take you long to figure out.”

Theo frowned. “You know, the rest of the team is petitioning to have you sent back to England.”

They weren’t. Theo had made it clear that Nikandr was staying through the whole mission. But a little intimidation couldn’t hurt.

Nikandr shrugged. “Then send me back.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

This made Nikandr laugh. “And why is that?”

Theo faced the water, watching the port grow closer. He squinted his eyes against the wind and said, “I believe that you can learn to work with the others. Stay long, and you’ll learn that we’re in need of fresh perspectives.”

“You’re just reaching for words.”

“Maybe.” Theo shrugged. “I just want you to know that you’ll have a place in this crew no matter what. Don’t forget it.” He clapped Nikandr on the back and made his way to the other side of the boat, where he could see Nicolas’s tall frame dancing to the band on the deck.

Theo made his rounds, engaging in short conversations with his entire crew until he finally came to Nora, who leaned against the rail, her chestnut curls pinned back in a loose twist at the nape of her neck. A few strands of hair had escaped, and they blew in the wind, dancing with the currents. Theo settled himself next to her, watching her eyes roam the tops of the waves.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” he asked, and Nora shook her head. “I’m just watching,” she said, turning to smile at Theo. “Watching and waiting.��

“Aren’t we all,” murmured Theo as Nora turned back to the ocean, her brow furrowing in concentration. The sudden urge to reach out and smooth the wrinkles between Nora’s brow came over Theo’s body, and his hand twitched. He smiled to disguise the movement. “The captain says we’ll reach port in about half an hour. When we do, be ready to leave. I’ve already told the others, but if you would make sure Nicolas is prepared . . .”

Nora laughed. “I can do that.”

Theo smiled. “Thank you.”

Saanvi kept next to Nicolas as Theo asked around about areas heavy with dragons. A few sailors laughed at him and said that lads who went looking for a kill would be roasted, but several people gave helpful advice and pointed the group towards a town in the rural parts of the state. Theo bought train tickets, and they all crammed into a train compartment.

The ride began in silence. Tomas pulled out a book, Nora went through her bag, and Khepria spent the first thirty minutes with her eyes pressed closed. Then Theo turned to Nikandr and asked, “Do you miss Russia?”

Saanvi relished the momentary look of shock that crossed Nikandr’s face, but the boy shook himself off only a second later. “A bit,” he said, shrugging. The display of indifference was convincing, but Saanvi could see through the show. He did miss his home, a feeling Saanvi herself understood very deeply. She had lived in London for the past five years, but almost every day she wished she was back in India, wrapped in jewel-toned silks with her mother and father and siblings. But she had left them for a different life, and though she missed home, she didn’t regret her decision to come to London.

“What is Russia like?” asked Nicolas. He shook his light brown hair. “I hear it’s cold.”

“It is,” said Nikandr. “You get used to it after a while, though.”

“Why did you leave?” asked Nora. She seemed genuinely interested, and Saanvi thought she saw Theo glance over with approval. Saanvi recalled that Nora and Khepria had been the most resistant to Theo’s plan to include Nikandr in their group. Nora had told Saanvi that Theo had been insistent, even after the voyage on the ship, during which Nikandr had been rather horrible.

Nikandr tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair. His blue eyes were pointed at the floor, seemingly intent on the interlocking pattern of the rug. Then he said, “Russians aren’t too keen on the whole Dragonology venture. Tsar Nicholas is vehement that the sciences be kept strictly to the government, and that common folk shouldn’t dabble in them.”

Saanvi got the sense that such a statement was an oddity coming from Nikandr. She smiled kindly, and for a moment, Nikandr seemed to give her a similar expression. Then he turned to the window, his pointed nose facing the glass.

Nicolas sighed deeply. “Will we arrive soon?” he asked, his voice almost a whine. Saanvi laughed and elbowed him. “We only just got on the train,” she said. “Distract yourself or something.”

“Distracting myself is a feat I don’t think I’ve managed to accomplish yet.”

Khepria opened one eye and raised the corresponding brow. “Yet you always seem to get distracted.”

Even Nikandr laughed, though it was quiet, and he continued to look away. But Theo seemed to brighten, and even Tomas looked up from his book. Perhaps Theo has been right. Perhaps including Nikandr was the right decision.

Nora wished she hadn’t packed so many things as she carried her bag through the station. It had been a horrible decision to bring all her equipment, and Theo had told her that she should pack light. But she had insisted that she would need everything and was regretting that decision now as her shoulder began to ache.

“They’re saying that the dragons have been attacking,” said Theo as they made their way across the fields. “I have a hard time believing that, and if there have been dragon attacks, they must have been provoked.”

Nikandr raised an eyebrow. “You have a hard time believing there have been dragon attacks?”

Theo nodded.

Nikandr laughed derisively. “Then that smoke must be from a bonfire.”

Theo’s head snapped in the direction Nikandr pointed. Indeed, a column of black smoke rose from the fields nearby, drifting through the wind. Nora was surprised she hadn’t picked up the scent before. It was one she had smelled more often than she wished to admit.

“Tomas?” asked Theo.

Tomas cocked his head. “It certainly looks like dragon smoke. The color is too dark to be from a typical campfire, and it has the proper scent. We can only be certain if we check.”

Theo gestured to Nikandr. “Lead the way.”

Nikandr bowed in Theo’s direction. “Nothing would please me more.”

Nora sighed as they turned to the smoke, groaning as she anticipated the ache in her shoulder and back.

By the time they arrived, Khepria’s shirtsleeves were stuck to her arms with sweat and her face dripped with the liquid. She flipped her braids from one shoulder to the net for the millionth time, feeling a faint breeze on her skin from the lack of weight. Then the heat pressed back down on her.

She may have said she enjoyed the heat of Africa, but she had grown far too accustomed to the coolness of London. The others looked worse off, especially Nikandr, who had shed his red wool coat and had rolled his shirtsleeves up. Nicolas had taken off his teal waistcoat, and Nora’s face was flushed deep red. She grunted as she let her bag drop to the ground. Khepria decided she didn’t want to know how heavy the thing was.

“This is definitely the work of a dragon,” said Tomas. He was the only one who looked unaffected by the heat, but that may have been because he was only dressed in a thin white shirt and trousers instead of the suits the other boys wore, and the vests and skirts the girls had donned.

In front of them lay a scar, a village burnt to the ground. The grass around the village was scorched and gone. Khepria saw Nora crouch down and take a vial from her bag. She filled it with ash and set a cork in the top before sticking it back with her supplies.

Theo looked the most mournful of them all. He did have the strongest ideals, and Khepria figured that the broiled bodies strewn about the ground pained him. Saanvi had her head turned away, and Nicolas looked serious for once. Even Nikandr had lost his usual cockiness.

Theo stepped forward and kneeled next to the burnt body of a little girl. He touched one of the intact fingers. “We should bury them,” he said in a whisper, his voice lifted by the bitter wind. Nicolas nodded, a sharp movement that Saanvi copied. Tomas, who had been pulling the handcart with their bags, set down the handles and began searching the carnage.

Khepria joined them a moment later. She assumed they were looking for a shovel or something similar, and when Nora held up a slightly charred shovel her suspicions were confirmed. Theo took the shovel and began to dig a grave. Soon, the others joined with their own shovels. Those who didn’t have any gathered the bodies, dragging them to the newly dug graves.

Khepria’s hands had never felt dirtier, yet some invisible force made her continue. She didn’t know if it was Nicolas’s smile or Tomas’s constant badgering or Theo’s unwavering energy, but whatever it was gave her strength until the final bit of dirt was laid on the final grave. Khepria heaved a deep sigh and felt whatever had kept her going wither away until she was an empty husk of herself.

They had spent all night burying the village, and the sun had just begun to paint brushstrokes of orange and pink on the horizon. Theo turned to Tomas. “Is there a prayer for the dead?” he asked, his voice soft in the stillness of the cool morning air.

Without answering, Tomas stepped forward and bowed his head, his close-cut dark hair damp with sweat, his golden skin glimmering with little beads of the liquid. He faced the plain white stones they had used to mark the graves and began his prayer.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.

I commend you, my dear brothers and sisters, to Almighty God, and entrust you to your Creator.

May you return to him who formed you from the dust of the earth.

May holy Mary, the angels, and all the saints come to meet you as you go forth from this life.

May Christ who was crucified for you bring you freedom and peace.

May Christ who died for you admit you into his garden of paradise.

May Christ, the true Shepherd, acknowledge you as one of his flock.

May he forgive all your sins, and set you among those he has chosen. Amen.”

The final vestiges of the prayer drifted away. Khepria wasn’t keen on Catholic prayers. There were too many words, too little action. Though she didn’t believe in the Egyptian gods, she preferred their method. Sacrifices, a few simple words, then indifference until the next day.

Theo placed a hand on Tomas’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said softly.

They stood silently for a few more minutes, watching the sun bathe the fresh graves in golden light, the carnage of the village resplendent in the glowing sunshine. The wind picked up, and for a moment, Khepria thought she could hear laughter from the graves. Perhaps the Catholic saints had come.

#genre: intrusive fantasy #inklingschallenge #team chesterton #theme: burial #story: complete #original work #short story #dragonology

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farepayer · 7 months ago

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A New Era for China Tourism: Visa-Free Access and Beyond

China is quickly becoming a top destination for international travelers, thanks to China Visa-Free Access. From the lively streets of Shanghai to the charming cultural gems in lesser-known cities, more visitors than ever are exploring what the country has to offer. This surge in interest solidifies China’s spot as a go-to travel destination and sets the stage for 2025 to be an incredible year for tourism.

China’s Game-Changing Visa Policy Updates

In December, China announced a major update to its visa policies, making it easier than ever for travelers to visit. Here’s what’s new:

Longer Visa-Free Stays: Tourists can now visit five inland provinces—Shanxi, Anhui, Jiangxi, Guizhou, and Hainan—without a visa. This opens up exciting new regions to explore beyond the usual tourist hotspots.

Extended Transit Times: If you’re from one of 54 eligible countries, you can stay in China for up to 10 days (240 hours) without needing a visa, compared to the previous 72 and 144-hour limits.

More Access Points: With 21 additional ports for visa-free entry and exit, it’s now even easier to visit China.

These updates have already sparked a travel boom. According to Qunar, a leading Chinese travel agency, the number of foreign travelers booking domestic flights has tripled compared to last year. Visitors from countries like the U.S., Russia, Canada, South Korea, and Australia are leading the charge.

A Shift Toward Deeper Exploration

The changes are drawing visitors not only to well-known cities like Beijing and Shanghai but also to smaller towns and regions that are rich in culture and history.

Here’s why these destinations are becoming increasingly popular:

Authentic Experiences: Smaller cities provide a chance to experience traditional Chinese culture without the crowds.

Peaceful Alternatives: If you’re looking for quieter places, these hidden gems are ideal.

Natural Beauty: From the beaches of Hainan to the stunning mountains in Guizhou, there’s no shortage of breathtaking scenery.

The World is Watching: A Spike in Global Interest

The moment China announced its new visa policies, the world took notice. Within just 30 minutes, travel searches for Chinese destinations skyrocketed:

Europe: 85% increase in interest

Americas: 163% surge

Asia-Pacific: 116% rise

Countries like France, Canada, and Russia saw the biggest spikes, as people started planning their trips to explore China’s wonders.

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What’s Next for Chinese Tourism?

If the trends are anything to go by, 2025 is set to break records. Peak travel is expected on December 31, 2024, and January 1, 2025, with over 2 million travelers moving in and out of China daily—an 18.8% increase compared to last year.

This surge is no surprise. The new visa policies make it easier than ever to dive into the rich history, vibrant cities, and stunning natural beauty that China offers. Whether you’re wandering through ancient temples, tasting world-class cuisine, or soaking in breathtaking views, there’s something for everyone.

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#China travel #visa-free policy #China tourism #international travel #travel to China

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manickay · 1 month ago

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#3、Welcome to China Travel #I wish you a happy journey in China #let us feel the Chinese culture #China is the ideal place for you to travel #wish you leave a good memory in China.

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ddddssdf · 7 months ago

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#3、Welcome to China Travel #I wish you a happy journey in China #let us feel the Chinese culture #China is the ideal place for you to travel #wish you leave a good memory in China.

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ggiguu · 4 months ago

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#3、Welcome to China Travel #I wish you a happy journey in China #let us feel the Chinese culture #China is the ideal place for you to travel #wish you leave a good memory in China.

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imthepunchlord · 2 years ago

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In your au which kwamis could be in the prodigious and miraculous side forces?

Hm... for this, I'll stick to what is canon. I'm not going to think about the groups, just going to roll out where I think they could place.

Miraculous

Ladybug, largely works off Tikki and her advise of prioritizing others and being considerate of them, the power to mass restore would work nicely with the themes around Miraculous. Ladybugs in general also work with the themes and ideals of Miraculous, they are known for love and luck, but they are also known for divine intervention, being direct servants of God and the Virgin Mary, and will go out of their way to assist and heal those who are suffering. And a lot of what I read up on Ladybug in terms of myth and folklore stems from Europe, so makes sense for it to be European based.

Bee I would vote Miraculous working off it's symbolism and themes, as bees whole thing are about the community, communication, provision, prosperity, and team work. Venom techncially would be a more Prodigious power, but that is something I could see Cat's Cataclysm do (destroy one's mobility), we could roll with Bee having a different power. Pollen would also need an overhaul in terms of personality, probably have a lot of the same moral stances as Tikki, but could be more aware and considerate of humans, wants to be more engaging and flexible on guiding them as she wants to help them thrive as they're meant to be vs Tikki's ideals on how humans should behave, and could have a bit more sass and a slight temper that has her "sting" back. Bee I've also seen more info about them in Europe (with Celts and Greeks) than with China.

Peafowl I would vote Miraculous. In terms of symbolism, it works better for Miraculous, they're tied to vision/looking to the future, rejuvenation/phoenix ties, taking in evil and turning it into beauty, purity, protection; peacocks kinda have the same level of significance on Europe vs China, but it's a bit more iconic with it's ties to Hera. The power would need to be changed as the ability to make literal life, fully control it, and terminate at a snap of a fingers isn't very Miraculous. Duusu I would also vote to get an overhaul in personality as they went more birdbrain persona, and Duusu probably should've been more on the elitist and vain, but still benevolent and optimistic.

Rabbit I was a little unsure on but I think ultimately would be more Miraculous than Prodigious. Rabbits at the core are known for speed, creation, artistry, healing, and providing, the latter aspects seen with the Moon Rabbit and the Easter Bunny, which originates from Eostre, a goddess of spring and harvest. The power and kwami would need to be changed up as time traveling is pretty OP, and the AiW reference I don't think works well.

Horse I would vote Miraculous, they are heavily tied to protection, heroism, nobility, and divinity. And not just in Europe, but also India and China too. From what I've seen research wise, everybody agrees horses are majestic and awesome, to the point that anything negative to them in myth is small in comparison to the benevolent icons they are in various myths. So while Horse pops up everywhere and could go anywhere, it would match with Miraculous by what they largely represent. And Kaalki echoes this, while she is an elitist snob, you do know she has a high standard and expects her humans to be noble heroes.

Goat I would vote more Miraculous, especially if you incorporate Sheep into it as well. Between the two, it's ultimately a very positive symbol that echoes ambition and bravery, as well as provision, gentleness, and fellowship. You do have goats and sheep tied to various gods, like Ares, Thor, and Agni; if doing power changes, I would vote making Goat THE combative force of the Miraculous. And the little we see of Ziggy suggests to me she'd lean more Miraculous.

Rooster I would vote Miraculous. They do have some negative association (ego and aggression), but their ties to honesty, vigilance, prosperity, confidence, valor, and protection stand out a lot more. Mythology often has it a herald of what's coming, so I would vote it have something relating to foresight instead.

Prodigious

Cat I would initially vote Prodigious, though it would mean that Cat and Ladybug aren't uniquely a pair anymore, but maybe that's for the better since the show didn't do a good job at making them a pair as the Ladybug is established as being far more important than the Cat is. But the power of Cataclysm can go either way in used for beneficial or destructive use. Plagg would also meet the qualifications of a Prodigious kwami by being more morally grey, understanding the one is just as important as he'll encourage humans to be selfish, go do what they want, and he'd rather skip out his heroic duty. Cats in general also have mixed themes, they can be lucky and unlucky, they can be loving companions to independent loners, they can be sources of protection or bringers of chaos.

Turtle I stand by being a Prodigious, while not chaotic as some others, it is more tied to prioritizing the self. One's own longevity and survival, one's own protection, though it does have that possibility of being a shield for others. The little we have of Wayzz suggests he leans more Miraculous. Turtles though are very big in China, being one of the sacred animals and thought to be a rare equal to the dragon, so makes sense for it to be tied to China.

Fox I'd vote Prodigious, as the power of making illusions is typically more antagonistic in use, though it can be used for greater good. Foxes are also dual in moral standing and protrayals, some are heroes that win with trickery, while others are antagonists that trick and take advantage of others. Sapotis Trixx also matches with a Prodigious kwami as they sounded like they were for Alya going against LB and using the Fox full time, but did drop in the word trustworthy to remind Alya that she is being trusted by LB, and leaves it up to this human on how to act. It's was a bit of a gamble, and Trixx's best moment, so it's a shame they became more childish. Foxes do appear in various culture, though the eastern fox is a lot more iconic, so it feels fitting to be in the more Chinese based group.

Mouse would be a Prodigious. Rodents in general stand out for cleverness and communication in mythology, and they do have good and bad associations while being more positive in the east while more negative in the west. By power, it's technically working with others but it's also working exclusively with yourself. And the little we see of Mullo is quite impish. So Mouse I'd say is a Prodigious.

Tiger would be Prodigious, not only does it have strong ties to China, this eastern king of beasts is tied to chaos and change and is the yin counter to Dragon, seeking to challenge the order Dragon established. Clout would match with a Prodigious power, though I would vote it be changed as that's technically a power Cataclysm could also do. Roaar as a kwami I don't have enough on personality wise outside being curious and pushy. But for sure Tiger would be a Prodigious.

Dragon by default of being the Chinese Zodiac Dragon and the western Dragons are often malicious, would be a Prodigious. And by default of powers tied to elements in a storm, that can be beneficial or chaotic. What we see of Longg suggests she's a kwami that would lean more Miraculous, everything else would have her be a Prodigious kwami.

Snake would be a Prodigious to play off it's duality, as this animal represents life and death, good and evil, justice and vengeance, wisdom and power. It's been tied to divinity and protection, but also wickedness and betrayal. That power can be flexible in it's use. The little we see of Sass suggests he'd lean more Miraculous, but truthfully, he should be along the lines of Trixx, having quite the silver tongue and be morally grey.

Monkey hands down is a Prodigious. With a power and kwami tied to being chaotic and impish, it has no place amongst the Miraculous. And of course, monkeys have cultural significance in China but not so in Europe.

Either

Butterfly I did Prodigious as an example, but honestly it could go either way. It's power works off being a social butterfly, elevating someone else up to help a community/area, ideally making heroes. That works off Miraculous caring for others over the one. It can be used to make villains, but it could be a difficult to misuse as you are relying on another person, and people are unpredictable, and this power heightens their emotions, which can make them even more chaotic. But it can also match with Prodigious as it focuses on granting to one. And it can be a chaotic power to use. And it's easy to misuse, as despite people being unpredictable, Gabriel didn't have that much of a struggle. Kwami wise, Nooroo I see leaning more Miraculous. But for themes with butterflies and moths, that kinda goes more Prodigious, cause they're tied to love and death, omens of change, chaos and transformation, represents the soul. So Butterfly can go either way, it could be Ladybug's equal as a Miraculous, or it could be one of the more powerful Prodigious.

Ox can go either way. Including bulls into this, this animal has been tied with being a literal powerhouse and can be destructive (bulldoze, bull in a China shop, bulls having a tie to the destroyer, Shiva), but it's also tied with sacrifice, shouldering the burden of others, bravery, strength in character and in a physical sense, and standing your ground. It's also an animal tied to divinity, with the Sacred Bull showing up in different cultures. So I could see it go either way, and there's not enough on the kwami for me to say where he would go.

Dog could go either way. They do have a lot of positive associations tied to unconditional love, acceptance, loyalty, duty, diligence, fellowship, protection, and assistance, but there are also a lot of dogs tied to Hell/the Underworld/death (Cerberus, hellhounds, Cu Sith, Barghest, Sharvara and Shyama, Garmr). And if Dog does incorporate Wolf too, then there's the iconic Big Bad Wolf and mythical Fenrir. So Dog could go either way on being a Miraculous or Prodigious.

Pig is also in the same boat as it has mixed reception. In the west, it has negatives of being lazy, gluttonous, aggressive through boars; but in the east it's tied to luck and prosperity. Kwami could go either way, what we see of Daizzi is sweet, but he also seems rude and oblivious. Gift would lean more Miraculous, but I'd also vote it being changed as it feels like it's one of those powers that were done to work off the human planned for the Miraculous than the animal, like Chloe planned to get Bee so it has a "stinging" power even though bees are so much more than stingers.

#ask Punchie #miraculous prodigious #kwamis

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