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lieblxng · 11 months

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@strebcr | Closed Starter

[ Dark clouds gather in the endless midnight sky, obscuring the guiding stars and leaving the rest of the sky murky and tenebrous. It even started obscuring the moon, which was in its new form at the end of its typical cycle so it wasn’t visible much anyway. The night would be quiet if not for the bustling city underneath its wake–loud music bursts from the cracks of a building in the heart of the city, meant to distract those who enter from how awful life could be. A tall man with black and red hair and a sharp punk attire that color matches his hair leaves said building from a side exit that goes behind it. It was Ethan Dorian, a college student steadily focused on the future ahead of him while also enjoying the frivolities of existence, lest he lose his faith in life like all eventually do. Coming out here for a small fifteen-minute break, he takes out a cigarette from the pack he had and sets it ablaze with the lighter in one of his pockets. ]

[ The vitality of the party was a rejuvenating one to him, but there were a few moments where he needed to regain his energy to continue. The perks and shortcomings of being an ambivert, for sure. It wasn’t even a full five minutes before the heavens began to weep; droplets of water sprinkling onto anything below, including him. Groaning that he couldn’t enjoy his cigarette fully, he smashes the lit part on the wall he was leaning on and inserts it back into his pack so he might be able to save it for later. This was a good time to leave since he had classes in the morning anyhow. He ponders for a second about which route he should take, but he decides to take the alleyways right now because it is the quicker route home with the current weather going on. It’s been done a couple of times before, so he knew his way home without much issue. ]

[ However, little did he know that he wasn’t the only person in the alleyways. ]

[ Some time deep in the heart of the city, only a few street lights illuminating the path just barely enough not to trip in front of oneself, Ethan walks on ahead. He even checks his phone real quick and uses it to start texting someone while he shields it from the rain. Maybe his friend was asleep with it being past midnight, but he wanted to go off about the amazing time he had at the concert. They even had a mosh pit, he adored mosh pits with how wild and fun they were. ]

[ While he’s occupied with this, shadows move from behind, stirring and bending unnaturally. A person cloaked in darkness sinks and moves with calculated stealth, stalking the man in front of them; any movement silenced by the pouring precipitation. The young man slowed down unknowingly, trying to make sure he was texting legibly and distracted with what he was typing. That’s when he felt something amiss, like his sixth sense was trying to inform him about trouble, so he turned his head around to see…a stranger, taller than him–dressed in the finest of silk, a short but sweet red dress and heels, reaching out a clawed hand towards him.

“Run.” is all they said, their set of abnormally sharp teeth showing on full display and their intimidating red eyes digging daggers into his skin. And for some reason, every letter was pronounced in such a way that invoked the biggest of fears in him.

So he ran, as fast as he could muster, phone in hand, text unfinished. Usually, Ethan wasn’t the one to get scared, but something about the way they looked into his core made him absolutely terrified. It was almost unnatural, perhaps inhumane, on how seemingly easy it was performed, but he had no time to question any of this extensively–he just needed to run. Water from the puddles underneath his boots splashed up like waves of the ocean when he sped by, but he wasn’t phased at all. He couldn’t go home because that could lead him into more danger later on, he had to lose them from his tracks. ‘Faster Ethan, faster!’ was the only clear enough thought he had racing in his head. ]

[ The figure behind him only smirked at his reaction, finding it utterly adorable how their victim thought he had a chance. They gave chase, quickly catching up to Ethan without any problems, despite what they were wearing. They also took this moment to enjoy the hunt more, not yet striking, but savoring their prey’s reactions. ]

[ A fence was spotted up ahead. Maybe he could lose them by climbing it! He didn’t hesitate to latch onto it and start scaling it as quickly as he could. His accessories almost got caught between the wiring, but due to his panic when he got on top of the fence, he lost balance and dropped his phone–shattering on the ground when it fell, only to get further crushed when Ethan fell on top of it. He growled, hurting his arm in the process and getting somewhat soaked, but he couldn’t give up now. He scrambled up from the ground, too much in a rush to pick his broken phone back up as he dashed off. ]

[ The person enjoying the chase soon came to the fence, but instead of climbing it as well, they grabbed onto the wiring and ripped it apart–tearing a giant hole in it for them to go through. Then they resumed running after him, as if nothing bothered them. Without any sign of struggling, nothing, just pure superhuman strength. ]

[ Ethan saw this and almost screamed, the fear flowing through his veins making him run even faster. He didn’t know what his religious belief was, regardless of being raised in a mostly Wiccan household, but he was trying to cry out to whatever may be up there and internally beseech for help. He was getting desperate, his joints and muscles shrieking to stop, but he couldn’t. If he did, who knows what would…! His legs would come to a screeching halt, a barrage of emotions to experience when he saw the dead end he was at. No, there had to be another way! He attempted hastily looking around him, but he couldn’t…he couldn’t find anywhere else to go. He was…he was doomed. He turned around to face his killer, hugging the wall behind him in some hopeless attempt at comfort. Seeing those eyes penetrate his being once more made him tremble like it was below zero outside, which was yet again out of character for him. ]

“Please! Don’t!” [ he whined out, trying to beg for his life. ] “Why are you doing this?! Wh-what did I do–?!” [ He didn’t understand any of this! ] “Haha,” [ the hunter finally spoke out once more, walking slowly up to its prey. ] “I’m doing this for your own good. You’ll see…” [ When they were close enough, they grabbed onto both of Ethan’s wrists with one hand, pinning him down and using the other hand to hold his head down. He freaked out and squirmed, but no matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t get out. His pleas of mercy fell on deaf ears, as they proceeded to…–! ]

[ A piercing cry of agony was heard, breaking through the vibrant sounds of the urban area, poison and pain filling his body in tandem. Whether from the blood gushing out of his neck, the trauma, or the entirety of it all, his vision went black as he collapsed onto the cruel, uncaring pavement; the aggressive downpour of rain drenching his now lifeless body in some twisted sense of pity. ]

[ Weeks had passed since Ethan Dorian’s disappearance, and the last text he texted anyone was to some friends like Streber and Leon, saying: ‘goin to a cool concert tonite will tell u the deets later’ sometime around eleven in the evening. He didn’t show up for his college classes in the morning. No one knew where he went, many calls and texts to his phone would go straight to voicemail. There weren’t any reports of anything concerning going around the venue either, and those who did see Ethan at the concert saw him depart midway through it. Typically he went to these types of events with friends, but he went alone this time. People were getting worried, especially his loved ones–his mother openly cried whenever it was brought up with her husband comforting her every time. Sure sometimes he would disappear for hours, but nothing like this, and he would always come back. There were a couple of attempts at an informal search party, but there weren’t any notable updates in the missing persons case. ‘Where was he?’, most thought. ]

[ Very much aware of what was going on with him but wanting to protect those he loved, Ethan was avoidant of them on purpose. He wasn’t human anymore, he couldn’t go near them. In his mind, it was best if he was believed to be missing or dead. His career, ruined. His relationships, ruined. His everything, ruined. Maybe to grieve and process what he lost, he sat against the brick wall, the very same alley where his life was taken. He buried his face into his knees, it all sinking in that this wasn’t some long nightmare. That this was this reality. He wanted to sob so badly. What did he do to deserve this horrible fate…? ]

#Assault TW #Gore TW #Blood TW #Smoking TW #Dark Content #//this is really fucked up holy shit #//its three pages LONG 😭 and the last two paragraphs are rusty and rushed but shshshsh its ok #Ethan (self) | I'm really just a video game artist.#Streber | Passionate for the spooky season.#Forever morphed by the dark... | Vampire AU (Ethan)#Chilling ain't a contest. | Closed RP #strebcr

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chadsawyerphotography · 1 year

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A BEGINNER’S GUIDE TO SHOOTING THE NIGHT SKY: Part 1

This is the first in a series of entries covering night sky photography for beginners. If you're just starting out in Astrophotography, this session will covers what gear you'll need to have a successful, and enjoyable, session.

Before getting into the camera setup I used to capture star trails and the Milky Way, let's first review what items I use to capture my night skies.

THE RIGHT WEATHER

Okay, so you can't bring this with you but there's no point in venturing out if it's going to be cloudy, or worse. Be sure to check the hourly forecast in addition to the daily. Just because it's cloudy at sunset doesn't mean those clouds won't move out of the area before the stars come out (and, if shooting the Milky Way, you may have several hours before it rises, well after sunset).

THE RIGHT CAMERA

I use a Sony a7r iv, a full frame, 61mp camera body. You'll want a body that can handle higher ISOs without adding a lot of sensor noise, especially as you'll be taking potentially hundreds of shots for star trails and building up some sensor heat.

THE RIGHT LENS

Generally speaking, you're going to want two things out of your lens for astrophotography: wide angle and fast. I usually take two lenses with me. Since I'm shooting with a full frame and not a crop sensor (APS-C senor). I take my Sony 16-35 2.8 GM and my 14mm 1.8 GM primary lens. If you have a crop sensor camera and lenses, you’ll want to bring your widest lens with the widest aperture, preferably 2.8 or wider.

THE RIGHT TRIPOD

Be wary of relying on a light weight or flimsy tripod as you don't want your camera shaking during longer exposures (or, even worse, falling over). Ideally, you'll have a model that has a center hook from which you can hang your camera bag or tripod weights to help with windy conditions. I prefer and use SLIK Tripods and ball head. You can purchase directly from Slik Tripods website or on Amazon.

THE RIGHT APPS

I used PhotoPills to identify when and where the Milky Way or Polaris if I’m doing circle star trails, moon phase and position, and much more. It also has built in tools to help you: calculate your maximum exposure time to avoid star trailing (accounting for your camera's sensor size and your lens' set focal length), plan for time lapses, find hyperfocal distances… and a ton more. There is a lot to absorb and play around with and, fortunately, the developers provide tutorials for using all the tools (I spent about 90 minutes watching videos the night before the group outing). The mode I found most useful, however, is the night AR (altered reality) mode. Click on this and you're taken to a live view of your surroundings with an overlay of the sky. You can use this view to scroll back and forth through times and dates to preview where the Milky Way will be in the future; a great tool to plan your shot well in advance, especially when it won't be visible until 3am! Additionally, you'll likely discover that a star finder app will be useful, if you're trying to find/identify constellations or just need help finding the North Star (and can't remember your basic education, like me).

THE RIGHT STUFF

Jump past the Milky Way for a rundown of some other items you'll need, or should consider, for night sky sessions.

TRIPOD WEIGHTS

If wind is in the forecast, consider some weighted bags for your tripod. I found some on Amazon for a good price and filled them with play sand from the local hardware store. The set I ordered has four bags, enough to place one on each tripod leg and to hang one from the tripod's center hook. If you don't want to use weighted bags, or forget them, you can always hang your camera bag from the hook in a pinch.

EXTRA CAMERA BATTERIES

More important for star trails than shooting the Milky Way but you'll want an extra battery or two. Shooting 240 30-second exposures for star trails chewed through about 70% of a fully charged battery for my Sony a7r iv, and I ended up using all three batteries I brought for the overnight session (only one was completely drained, the other two each had roughly 15-20% left). The next worst thing to not checking the weather forecast beforehand would be having perfect conditions and running out of juice halfway through your shooting.

INTERVALOMETER/WIRED REMOTE AND EXTRA BATTERIES

Another must-have for shooting star trails. Yes, you could shoot manually but who wants to stand or sit next to your camera for 2-3 hours hitting the shutter button every 30 seconds? I also discovered that the built-in interval timer on the Sony a7r iv allows for up to 9999 shots, but some cameras only allow up to 99 shots. As for batteries, the intervalometer/remote probably doesn't draw much power but, again, you don't want to get halfway through your shots only to have the batteries unexpectedly die. I always bring spare batteries and a portable battery charger just incase. It’s always nice to be prepared then not have it.

RED FLASHLIGHT/HEADLAMP

A headlamp is a must. Make sure it has a red lamp mode. Also I always carry a compact flashlight just incase- for light painting, getting around, and for emergencies - and a head lamp that has a red light option. I only used the flashlight a few times to sweep the foreground during long exposures of the Milky Way but I used the red headlamp frequently as I walked to and from my camera and my chair or car, or as I needed to check various things on my camera or intervalometer here and there through the night. Remember, ideal shooting conditions are during the new moon; between that and (hopefully) being far away from light pollution, it will be much darker than you expect!

OTHER ITEMS TO CONSIDER

Chair

Snacks/Drinks

Bug Spray

First aid kit

Balaclava (best purchase I've made for chilly nights!)

Blanket

Pillow (I caught a snooze in the back seat of my car... the pillow helped... some)

Extra memory cards

Lens cleaning tools

And a lens warmer. This is needed for those long cold nights or high humidity nights where frost or dew can form on your lens over time. There’s. I thing like shooting a 700 image star trail or time lapse and seeing the last 200-300 images are hazy due to frost or dew.

This covers what I typical bring and equipment I use for Astrophotography. You can always add to list as the nights are long, or you can always kick back while the camera is clicking away and read some more of my blogs or checkout my tutorials and adventures on YouTube. But keep that screen light away from your camera, you don’t want to introduce any unwanted light pollution!

Don’t forget to subscribe and stay update with new blogs and more!

#astrophotography #learn photography #star trails #photography #basic photography #photoblog

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dankusner · 6 months

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Countdown to TOTALITY

Here’s what you’ll see in the hours, minutes and seconds leading up to the solar eclipse

On Monday, a total solar eclipse will sweep from Mexico to Maine, plunging rural farmland and major cities alike into a sudden daytime darkness.

The sun’s atmosphere will fan outward from behind a jet-black moon in a spectacle the majority of the Lower 48 won’t witness again until the year 2045.

NASA is estimating that 32 million Americans will be in the path of totality, which sweeps over San Antonio, Dallas, Fort Worth, Little Rock, Indianapolis, Cleveland, Buffalo and Burlington, Vt.

It comes less than seven years after a more fleeting total eclipse made a path from the Oregon coastline to South Carolina on Aug. 21, 2017.

This eclipse will be the longest-lasting of any on land since at least 2009, and arguably the most widely observed in history.

What’s more, it comes at a time of peak magnetic chaos on the sun, which should make for a more striking show during totality, assuming you have clear skies.

Here we break down what you’ll see in the hours, minutes and seconds leading up to totality.

Start of partial eclipse

Scientists refer to “first contact” as the moment that the moon nicks the solar disk — or when the partial phase of the eclipse begins.

For those along the path of totality, this will be about one to two hours before totality.

Within a minute or two of first contact, you’ll see the moon begin to encroach on the right side of the sun.

The only way you’ll notice that will be with eclipse glasses.

Be sure to look up when the partial eclipse begins at your location; note that the partial eclipse will be viewable over the entire Lower 48 states, even if only those along the roughly 115-mile-wide path from Texas to Maine will see a total eclipse.

60 to 15 minutes to totality

Unless you have eclipse glasses on, you won’t notice much at first.

But over the next 45 minutes, you’ll be able to see the moon’s blockage of the sun grow.

First it’ll be a nibble. Then a bite. Then only a crescent will remain.

15 minutes to totality

About 15 minutes from totality, changes in your surroundings will become more noticeable.

Seventy to 80% of the sun will be obscured, and the landscape will look less illuminated.

It might resemble an old western-style movie, akin to a sepia filter on your phone.

The color might seem off a bit, as if the sun is shining through a smoky pane of glass.

You may feel a general sense of unease or foreboding.

Temperatures will begin dropping.

You may also see most of the white, puffy cumulus clouds fizzling because of the loss of heat from the sun.

10 minutes to totality

You may first begin to think to yourself, “I need a vest” or “it’s getting cool.”

As totality approaches, temperatures could drop by as much as 10 to 12 degrees if the air is dry and crisp, or 5 to 8 degrees if it’s humid.

Around the same time, the shadows will be getting visibly sharper.

During a solar eclipse, the sun’s apparent size shrinks, meaning shadows are cast from a smaller source.

As a result, shadows sharpen, because the rays of light — and therefore shadows — overlap more.

You might notice small sickle-shaped projections of the mostly eclipsed sun in the shadows of leaves and trees; each small gap acts as a miniature “pinhole projector.”

Around this time, it will start to feel weird outside.

The sun will look like it’s shining high in the sky — and indeed it is — but with only 20 percent of its usual intensity.

Crickets will start chirping.

Birds may return to their roosts.

90 seconds before totality

With a minute and a half left to go, things will start happening fast — and the ambient environment will transform before your eyes.

There are a number of things to look out for:

Shadow bands

The moon will be nearly covering the whole sun, and the sun will appear to shrink to a point source of light.

This means that the last rays of sunlight we get are fully parallel and aligned, or collimated.

However, atmospheric turbulence (air pockets, differences in temperature, etc.) will bend, or refract, parallel rays at slightly different angles.

The now-misaligned rays will create a bizarre interference pattern on the ground.

If you have a white towel, sheet or piece of poster board, bring that and place it on the ground. It will make observing the shadow bands easier.

Shadow bands first appear about 90 seconds before totality, and are most noticeable between 60 seconds and 30 seconds before totality.

They also can be seen in the moments after totality.

The umbra

Look to the southwest about 90 seconds before totality.

The sky will look purple or dusky, as if a veil of darkness is being draped overhead.

The rest of the sky will look normal.

You’ll be seeing the edge of the umbra — the darkest part of the moon’s shadow — arriving at several times the speed of sound.

When the shadow crosses into Texas from Mexico, it’ll be moving at 1,600 mph.

By the time it gets to northern Maine some 68 minutes later, it’ll move at a whopping 3,000 mph.

45 seconds to totality

The sky will abruptly darken faster than you can possibly imagine.

Each time you blink, you’ll open your eyes to a different landscape.

Your eyes might struggle to adjust at first.

Stars will awaken from their midday slumber, suddenly becoming noticeable and twinkling overhead.

Jupiter will also emerge above and to the left of the sun; Venus, and perhaps Saturn and Mars, will make an appearance below to the right.

Eventually, the sky will plunge into a deep shade of royal blue that you may not have seen before. It’s difficult to describe.

Winds will slacken or abate as the air, rapidly chilled by the moon’s shadow, sinks — suppressing any breeze that had been formerly stirred up.

A change of wind direction is possible, too.

30 seconds to totality

You should still be wearing your glasses.

Be on the lookout for “Baily’s Beads” — the final pinpricks of sunlight shining through the valleys of the moon.

They’ll last about 15 seconds before totality.

Then the diamond ring — when the myriad beads all congeal into one lone, searing beacon.

TOTALITY

You can only remove your eclipse glasses during totality.

And when you do, you’ll be transported to another universe (figuratively speaking, of course).

Where the sun should be, you’ll see a black hole.

It’s the blackest black you’ll ever see.

That’s the moon blocking all incoming light.

Fanning out from behind the moon will be the sun’s wispy, diaphanous atmosphere — the corona.

Hairlike strands of magnetism will be visible radiating outward.

The horizon in all directions will be glowing a delicate shade of amber — the so-called “360-degree sunrise.”

Keep in mind that the moon’s shadow will only be between 100 and 120 miles wide, so the horizon literally depicts areas that are still experiencing daylight.

You’re in the midst of a localized nightfall that only you get to enjoy.

Savor every second of totality.

Put the phones away — they won’t capture the eclipse.

Instead, treasure every fleeting moment.

Time will seem to stand still, but the moment will be gone in an instant.

The memories, however, will last a lifetime.

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just--space · 3 years

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Circular Sun Halo : Want to see a ring around the Sun? It's easy to do in daytime skies around the world. Created by randomly oriented ice crystals in thin high cirrus clouds, circular 22 degree halos are visible much more often than rainbows. This one was captured by smart phone photography on May 29 near Rome, Italy. Carefully blocking the Sun, for example with a finger tip, is usually all that it takes to reveal the common bright halo ring. The halo's characteristic angular radius is about equal to the span of your hand, thumb to little finger, at the end of your outstretched arm. Want to see a ring of fire eclipse? That's harder. The spectacular annular phase of today's (June 10) solar eclipse, known as a ring of fire, is briefly visible only if you're standing along the Moon's narrow shadow track that passes over parts of northern Canada, Greenland, the Arctic, and eastern Russia. The solar eclipse is partial though, when seen from broader regions, including northern Asia, Europe, and parts of the US. via NASA

#NASA #space #astronomy

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nightwishesworld · 3 years

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Night Light

The glow of the moon was faint, yet still predominantly illuminated the night sky. Sitting down upon the grassy hills can really put your world into a new perspective, gazing up into the night sky. Despite the moon’s hazy presence and frigid temperatures, Izabel is persistent enough to wait outside on the cold ground to watch as the transparent clouds roll by to reveal distant stars. From her perspective, she can easily spot each beautiful constellation, seeming to waltz throughout the sky. The breeze blew through her hair, tousling her blonde mane behind her. The aroma of the tall grasses was an intoxicating perfume and the starry night above was a painting more sublime than any man could create. The clarity above became reflected in Izabel's mind.

Upon the grass, there is snow, much like sprinkled sugar over cake. The frigid air has a way of keeping us in the moment, wicking away body heat faster than it is replaced. It's one of those days when normal clothes aren't enough when they feel thinner than they are. Still, she sits in nothing more than her leggings, sweatshirt-covered tanktop, and bare feet fighting against the goosebumps taking over every square inch of skin they can.

The constancy was shattered by a subtle sound behind her. The barest rustle of steps almost lost in the howling wind did not go unnoticed by the woman. From the pattern of footsteps, she could tell it was either Bela or Alcina walking up behind her, and it wouldn't make sense for it to be Bela, not at this hour. It had to be Alcina.

The vampire stopped to stand directly behind her and wrapping a nearby blanket tightly around Izabel's shivering body. Now she was certain it was her dear Alcina, the smell of her floral perfume gave it away. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Darling, you're freezing!"

It was only now that Izabel realized just how cold it was tonight. Her body was visibly shaking and the feeling in her hands was long lost to playing with the damp grass. She shrugged her shoulders and pulled the blanket closer to her body. "I got so lost in my own head I didn't even realize. How long have I been out here?"

"I'm not sure. At least an hour, though knowing you it's probably been longer."

“I just wanted to look at the stars, Alci. I’m sorry I gave you such a scare.”

“You can look at the stars from the balcony, where it’s safe.”

Izabel grimaced. “I’m tired of sitting in the castle. That’s all I ever do. I just wanted to sit in the grass for a little while; a change of scenery. Plus, the light from inside obstructs the sky.” She turned her attention back up to the night sky. Stars shone all around like pearls wrapped in black velvet. “You can’t see this inside.”

“Do you have any idea how exposed you right now? What if something else got to you before I did?”

Izabel rolled her eyes. "It's not that late, Alcina."

“It’s almost midnight!”

Shock spreads across her face. "Oh, I'm sorry Alci. I had no idea."

Alcina sighed. "It's quite alright, dear. When you didn't join me in bed at 11like usual I just assumed you fell asleep in the library. When I didn't find you there, I started looking in your other hiding spots, and then I still couldn't find you. Then I thought you might have gone down to the stables for something, and then I saw you here. I know you like your privacy dear, but when I couldn't find you this late at night I just-"

Izabel quickly turned and stood to embrace the vampire, even if she was only at thigh-height. "Hey, it's ok. I know you're just trying to protect me. I'm sorry I scared you."

Alcina looked down at her with a relieved smile. The last thing she wanted was to come off as intrusive. She cupped her partner's face in her hand and squeezed her cheek. "Don't fret about it, darling. Come inside, the stars will be here tomorrow night I promise. It's much too cold for you to be out here all by yourself." Her worry stems more from prowling creatures than the cold. If it were her sitting out in the dark by herself that's one thing; her power is unmatched compared to the pitiful creatures lurking about the forest edges. Izabel however, was rather helpless. Despite the woman's (sometimes foolish) bravery, her strength was nothing compared to the supernatural entities hiding just beyond the brush. It was a very real reminder of how fragile the human body is. How breakable Izabel is. Alcina could never live with herself if something happened to her precious human.

Izabel frowned up at the vampire. It seems she wasn't the only one getting lost in her own head tonight. "I'll come in a little bit; I promise."

Alcina pouted and made no move to retreat back to the castle. "You shouldn't be out here alone. Dangerous beasts roam freely in the night."

Izabel knew this, of course. It had been engraved into her brain since she was a little girl. People foolish enough to wander away from the village lights were often never heard from again. It always baffled her, even as a kid, how indifferent everyone was about it. "Sit with me then. Keep me company. I'll even share the blanket with you."

The vampire looked as though she was weighing her options before giving a defeated sigh. "Only for a few minutes." The matriarch concedes.

Izabel's eyes shine brighter than the stars above as she is picked up and placed carefully between Alcina's legs, bringing her knees up to shield her. The short woman nestled herself comfortable against her vampire's surprisingly taut midsection.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Alcina petting Izabel's hair, before she spoke up. "I'll never understand your fascination with the night. Nothing ever changes; it's always the same moon and stars. There's nothing new."

"There doesn't have to be. The night is fascinating enough just as it is. With all the different constellations and phases of the moon, it's ethereally magnificent. Personally, I think it does change, it's just so vast that we can't tell. When I was a kid I used to...nevermind, it's stupid."

Alcina bent down and kissed the top of her head. "Go on."

"I used to think that each star represented someone that had passed on. That every animal, person, or anything living was given a star for their families to look up at when they got sad. How dumb is that?"

"I think it's sweet, actually. No one really knows what happens to us beyond the grave, for all we know you could be right." Izabel looked up at Alcina with eyes that resembled a puppy. It actually took the matriarch back a bid as she's never seen the woman look so...vulnerable. "You think so?" "It's possible. I suppose in a way I hope you're right. A star would hardly provide me comfort after you pass, but it would be better than nothing. Knowing you're up there happy, not having a care in the world, not in any pain or emotional distress. That would be enough for me to get by."

Izabel snuggles deeper into the vampire and kisses the top of her gloved hand before wrapping it around herself. "I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, Alci. You've got a long time before you have to think about that."

Time passes differently for me, my sweet.

Alcina pushes her thoughts aside for the time being and gently scoops Izabel up in her arms and brings her up for a kiss before placing her down on her lap. "I love you. Do you know that?"

Izabel couldn't help but chuckle. "I do; you tell me every day."

"Good." Alcina hugs her higher against her body.

A comfortable silence washes over the women. It would be easy for Izabel to drift off like this. Alcina's fingers drew random shapes and designs across her midsection as they both kept their gazes up to the sky. She wasn't sure if it was the twinkling stars or Alcina's fingers keeping her conscious. They weren't sexual touches, more of an innocent way for Alcina to keep herself grounded amidst her spiraling thoughts. She needed to feel Izabel against her to know for certain she was there and she was safe. They were safe. Sometimes Izabel needed the same from her.

The world felt at peace here in each other's embrace. Nothing this retched world threw at them could do any harm; no hunters, supernatural predators, or even mortality could touch them. Even if it was just in this small moment amongst the stars. The constellations, who'd witnessed centuries and millennia just the same, watched over this tiny moment.

#lady dimitrescu #lady Alcina #tall vampire lady #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village #original characters

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cressasdbfanfics · 3 years

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Windblown

Paring: GoChi

Words: 2,051

Summary: Just me fulfilling a really old prompt request on Tumblr that I kinda forgot about. Whoops. Set about a year after Goku’s return post Buu’s defeat.

Prompt: The power goes out following (during) a windstorm. Also, it’s spring in the fic, not fall like the prompt list says.

Prompt list: The user deleted their whole account. Sad. I tried to link to the prompt list.

Fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13868732/1/Windblown

Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30883772

Cool spring air floated in through our open living room window, bringing with it the nice sweet scents of blooming flowers. Fluffy little clouds dotted the blue sky visible out the window. Gohan and Videl enjoyed a little spar under the evening sunshine a ways away from our home. They deserved a break from studying for their upcoming finals.

The breeze carried in their distant laughter and grunts. Curled up on our living room sofa, I hummed enjoying the soft breeze while I browsed a home décor catalogue.

A weight settled in the empty cushion on the other end of our sofa. I smiled at my sweet husband who was on his knees on the sofa, hands braced on the windowsill, as he looked toward where our son and future daughter in law fought.

"Videl's gettin' really pissed," he said through a chuckle.

I set down my catalogue on the side table next to me and watched Gohan and Videl through the window. Gohan's eyes lit up with a familiar, playful smirk—the same smirk his father wore when he stayed just out of my reach. Gohan dodged Videl's kick with a big jump backwards. Videl flew toward Gohan, her growl floating in through the open kitchen window. That little smirk during a little spar was just as infuriating to her as it was to me.

Goku flashed that same playful little smirk in my direction before returning his attention to Gohan and Videl. I shook my head but couldn't help a smile.

I stood from our comfortable sofa and nodded toward the window. "Shall we, sweetheart?"

Goku's eyes lit up and he jumped to his feet. I giggled as he grabbed my hand and pulled me outside with him into the cool spring breeze.

+++

I wiped the sweat from my forehead and glared at Goku. Oh, he was really going to get it if I could just catch him. I rushed Goku with a snarl, my fist ready to smash into his cheek.

My fist passed through empty air.

A whisper of warm breath off to one side brushed the exposed skin of my arm. I swung my elbow toward the warm sensation with as much weight as I could put into it. My elbow did collide with flesh in a satisfying smack—though not my intended target. Goku caught my elbow with an open hand, which he dropped to hang limply at this side. I shook off the jarring impact and got ready to attack him again.

Goku dodged and wove through every kick and punch I threw at him. Sometimes he returned a light hit, exploiting the rare opening I left. That playful little smirk never left his face. The light, cooling breeze picked up as we fought and felt wonderful against my skin.

"You're really strong, mommy!" yelled a small voice from somewhere near the house.

I sprang backwards out of Goku's reach and could easily make out Goten's awed smile inside our brightly lit house.

I giggled. "Thank you, sweetie."

"Yeah, you are," said Goku with a wink.

My heart fluttered in my chest as a little extra heat spread across my cheeks.

The bright sunlight faded.

An imposing mass of dark grey clouds blotted out the golden sunlight of late evening.

"Huh. Looks like we're gettin' a storm," said Goku, his gaze toward the sky. Goku looked at me, his eyebrows raised.

I answered Goku's silent question with a smirk. I wasn't about to let a little weather stop me.

Goku grinned.

I lunged for him as the wind picked up and feigned a punch to one side while setting up my real attack. Goku caught onto my ploy and answered with simply springing backward just out of my reach. I growled under my breath.

Goku chuckled and winked. "Nice try, babe."

I sprang after Goku and again let loose a quick series of knife handed strikes but all of them, as usual, missed.

The increasing wind made things difficult to keep going but I pushed through it, anyway. Goku seemed unfazed by the wind pulling on his gi and simply bobbed and wove around my attempted strikes, still wearing that irritating smirk.

"Mom! Dad!" yelled Gohan.

I stopped my attacks against Goku as Gohan and Videl landed by the two of us, eyes wide.

"Uh-oh," said Goku, staring at something behind Gohan and Videl, across the yard.

I followed his gaze. A wall of very low, dark grey cloud rushed toward us, flattening the grass it passed over. The wind carried the fresh scent of rain. A deep rumble echoed through the mountains and a bright flash of light lit up the darkened sky.

Goku pulled me against him. "We have to get inside!"

Goku reached toward Gohan and Videl. "Goten's inside! Grab on!"

A few droplets of chilly rain hit my face and the skin of my arms exposed by my rolled up sleeves before our living room materialized around us. The wind howled through our house.

"Quick! Close the windows!" I yelled as I dove for the open window above our sofa. The window wouldn't budge. It was hard to close against the wind. Large, strong hands stopped my struggle and easily pulled the window closed. I grimaced at the high-pitched sound of shattering ceramic. "The kitchen!"

Goku jogged into the kitchen but not before another dish—likely from the drying rack above our sink—met its end with another loud crash.

The wind blowing through our house ceased. I sighed grabbed the broom out of the utility closet.

"I need to cover the firewood," said Goku as I swept up the razor sharp shards of white ceramic.

He didn't give me the time to tell him to be careful before he phased out and vanished from the kitchen.

Instead, I called out, "Boys! Go check your bedrooms!"

"We are!" called Gohan from down the hall.

I picked up a few kitchen utensils the wind knocked to the floor and put them in their places.

"I hope nothing broke in the boys' rooms," I murmured as I put away the broom.

I decided to check on them.

A few loose-leaf papers littered the hallway floor. I gathered the papers, recognizing Gohan's handwriting, and knocked on Gohan's half-open door before I pushed it open.

"These were in the hallway," I said holding out the papers I found.

Gohan's attention slid up to me from his cross-legged seat on the floor and settled on the papers in my hands. "Oh, thanks," said Gohan absently as he added the loose pages to the stack in his hands.

Videl—seated on the other side of the mess—handed Gohan other papers. "At least you keep everything well labeled."

Gohan's chuckle was only half-hearted as he thumbed through the stack in his hands. "Heh, yeah. All of this is—"

The lights flickered and then went out, engulfing us in darkness.

Gohan groaned.

"I'll find a flashlight," I said. "Goten?" I called toward my youngest son's room. "How's your room?"

"It's fine," came Goten's unconvincing response.

I sighed. "I'll go find a flashlight."

I turned and reached out into the pitch-black darkness. My fingers made contact with the textured paint of Gohan's bedroom wall. I patted my way along the wall and found Gohan's doorway. I didn't get much farther before a warm, dry hand grasped mine.

Goku led me down the hallway with more confidence in the darkness than I showed. Goku always did have excellent night vision but I was surprised even he could see in that perfect, inky darkness without so much as a moon.

"How can you see in this?" I asked.

Goku's giggle reverberated across a wider space than the hallway. "I can't see much more than fuzzy shapes right now. But I can see energy."

"Your fuzzy shapes are better than me. I can't see at all," I said.

Goku giggled again and gave my hand in his a light squeeze. "I gotcha."

Goku stopped walking. I walked into the solid muscle of his back with a soft grunt.

"Heh. Sorry," said Goku. He drew my hand down and off to the side where my fingers grazed the soft, fuzzy fabric of a throw blanket. "Here's the couch. I'll make a fire so we have some heat and light."

I made myself comfortable as Goku shuffled around the fireplace, clangs and scraping noises echoing around our living room, adding to the noise of the wind rattling our windows. A rustle of fabric sounded next to me. I reached toward the noise and felt a small arm.

"Hmm. I wonder who this is," I said, knowing full well.

I moved past his arm and tickled his side.

Goten laughed.

A bright, tiny pinpoint of white light floated on Goku's outstretched fingertip, highlighting Goku's silhouette. The light turned into a soft orange glow that quickly grew brighter. When Goku moved aside, I watched small flames consume the kindling and spread to the logs.

"That should be enough light to see by," said Goku, coming to sit at my other side.

Gohan and Videl emerged into the dim light from the hallway.

"Did you manage to organize your homework?" I asked, dreading his answer from the way his eyebrows pinched together.

Gohan shook his head.

I jumped out of my seat. "I'll find that flashlight and light some candles."

"Thanks, mom."

It took some time to help Gohan get his homework and lecture notes organized again and help Goten clean his room but we did. When we finished, we all sat in the living room, enjoying the heat from the cozy fire burning in our fireplace.

"So, now what?" asked Goku.

"Hmm. Well, we could roast some mochi in the fireplace."

"Yeah!" said Goten as he jumped out of his seat next to me on our sofa.

"Mmm!" hummed Goku.

"How about it, you two?" I asked turning toward Gohan and Videl.

Gohan and Videl answered with eager nods.

I giggled. "Okay."

Goku got up and followed me into the kitchen. I set five plates, five roasting sticks, the box of mochi, and a small bowl of sweetened soy sauce to dip the roasted mochi in all on the counter. Goku helped me carry everything into the living room with a sweet smile.

Gohan, Videl, and Goten all moved to the floor just in front of the fireplace and the burning fire. I readied our snack, spearing a piece of mochi on everyone's roasting sticks and passed them around. We settled into easy, pleasant chatter as we roasted our treat over the fire to a perfect golden brown.

The pleasant chatter died down after we finished our snack. It didn't take long to figure out why. Goten fell asleep curled up against Goku's side under a throw blanket. I reached over Goku's lap and ran my fingers through Goten's thick hair. Gohan and Videl fell asleep facing each other, their hands intertwined.

"Oh, Mr. Satan is going to be so worried about her," I murmured over the crackling fire.

Warm lips pressed against my temple. "Don't worry, babe," breathed Goku into my ear. He yawned and then said, "She's got a phone. She probably already told him." He nodded at Gohan and Videl asleep on the floor. "'Sides, just look at 'em. I don't have it in me to wake 'em up."

I smiled at how sweet Gohan and Videl looked together. "I don't, either."

Goku carefully shifted Goten off of him and grabbed a couple of logs off the small stack of firewood. He pushed them into the fire with a roasting stick. "Let's keep this going a little longer."

I nodded.

Goku wiped the little bit of soot off his hands with a rag, scooted next to me, and wrapped his strong, gentle arms around me. He pulled me down with him to the soft blanket covering our hardwood floor. I giggled softly and settled next to him, resting my head on his chest. Warm breath tickled my forehead. I hummed and snuggled closer.

The chilly spring storm raged on outside but it was so nice and warm inside our little home on Mt. Paozu, I forgot all about it.

My family was home safe and whole.

This was perfect.

#Cressafics #GoChi #HanVi #fluff #power outtage #spring time #storm

11 notes · View notes

stefany · 3 years

Photo

Circular Sun Halo Want to see a ring around the Sun? It's easy to do in daytime skies around the world. Created by randomly oriented ice crystals in thin high cirrus clouds, circular 22 degree halos are visible much more often than rainbows. This one was captured by smart phone photography on May 29 near Rome, Italy. Carefully blocking the Sun, for example with a finger tip, is usually all that it takes to reveal the common bright halo ring. The halo's characteristic angular radius is about equal to the span of your hand, thumb to little finger, at the end of your outstretched arm. Want to see a ring of fire eclipse? That's harder. The spectacular annular phase of today's (June 10) solar eclipse, known as a ring of fire, is briefly visible only if you're standing along the Moon's narrow shadow track that passes over parts of northern Canada, Greenland, the Arctic, and eastern Russia. The solar eclipse is partial though, when seen from broader regions, including northern Asia, Europe, and parts of the US. June 10, 2021 via Space https://ift.tt/3v9A7Aq

#IFTTT #NASA #astronomy #photo #space

3 notes · View notes

apod · 3 years

Photo

2021 June 10

Circular Sun Halo Image Credit & Copyright: Vincenzo Mirabella

Explanation: Want to see a ring around the Sun? It's easy to do in daytime skies around the world. Created by randomly oriented ice crystals in thin high cirrus clouds, circular 22 degree halos are visible much more often than rainbows. This one was captured by smart phone photography on May 29 near Rome, Italy. Carefully blocking the Sun, for example with a finger tip, is usually all that it takes to reveal the common bright halo ring. The halo's characteristic angular radius is about equal to the span of your hand, thumb to little finger, at the end of your outstretched arm. Want to see a ring of fire eclipse? That's harder. The spectacular annular phase of today's (June 10) solar eclipse, known as a ring of fire, is briefly visible only if you're standing along the Moon's narrow shadow track that passes over parts of northern Canada, Greenland, the Arctic, and eastern Russia. The solar eclipse is partial though, when seen from broader regions, including northern Asia, Europe, and parts of the US.

∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap210610.html

17 notes · View notes

poptod · 4 years

Text

All That Is and Forever Shall Be (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Description: Being a ghost in the middle of nowhere, tied to a church no one knows exists can be very lonely. Fortunately for you, a man is trying to make himself lonely, and subsequently gains your friendship that he didn’t ask for.

Prompt: Abandoned churches

Notes: I know I’m kind of branching out of my usual Ahk/Kenny stuff, but I’ve been really busy lately and all I have are nearly-finished W.I.P.s I abandoned months ago. Sorry. As with most of my stories, I implore you to read them as stories, not as xreaders, because I severely let people down when it comes to fluffy interactions n such. Gender neutral again but fair warning, you’ve got a Scottish accent. btw i wrote this before my obsessive hatred of anything disney came up so

Word Count: 5.4k AO3 Link: All That Is and Forever Shall Be

No one visits my grave anymore, you thought to yourself drearily. The wind shivered through grass at your feet, howling through the holes in stone walls but not brushing your skin. You sat against said stone wall, one of the ends of the abandoned church of which was lined all round with gravestones, rotting away and empty with skeletons and vermin. Though above clouds promised a hefty storm, the wild sheep grazing outside the church’s fence didn’t make any move to seek shelter under the roof. Sighing once more you shifted in your seated position, wondering where everyone had gone.

Surely you weren’t alone - surely there had to be others like you. Not devout enough for heaven and not murderous enough for hell, but simply mundane and lonely enough to be cast back to the earth to wander as spirits. Though, you supposed, no one had dug a grave there in centuries, and during the time you were buried, it was odd if not damning to not be religious. Yet that was exactly what you were, an atheistic, boring farmer, who had no family and no children to speak of, leaving naught a person to seek your only remnants of what was once a life.

Hundreds of years must have passed since you died, but you would never know. The headstone with your name written on it (albeit blurred and dulled with time) tied you to the church, and you could never leave. For all you knew, all of humanity was dead. Or living on the moon.

Ultimately, on a day when it was raining hard enough to fill another ocean, you (or your anxieties) were proven wrong. From off in the distance came movement. High upon a distant hill a tall form lumbered near, dressed in dark clothing in a fashion you had never seen before. In patience grown from years built upon each other you watched, noting the sun behind you shining more red and vibrant than ever before growing dimmer, till the shadows cast the same as the light, and you could just barely make out the face of the distant man.

His face drooped wearily, limping as he moved and keeping his eyes down. Ragged, black hair fell from his head and covered a good deal of his face, shielding him from your view. Tilting your head to the side you noted weapons, a good many of them, hidden away in the folds of his clothing, strapped to his body with leather and blended in quite well with the various buckles and straps adorned like wreaths along his legs, torso, and shoulders.

As usual, there was no indication he saw you. From the way his eyes darted to each sheep upon their movement you could tell he was on edge, looking for suspicion even in the most innocent of animals, thus leaving no possibility that if you were visible he would not have seen you. You figured as much, seeing as the sheep never bothered about you too much - at least not unless you interfered with them.

Phasing through the wall you watched him clear a corner of the church, setting his bags down on the stone floor that had managed to not be ravaged by various wars. There was no fireplace, but seeing as the entire building was made of stone he simply gathered twigs from faraway trees, pulling a small box out of his satchel. In interest you came closer, and with your eyes pressed right up to his hands he struck a light. You gasped, watching how he made fire with such ease, lighting the wood and enveloping the long empty walls with warmth and familiarity.

He set the small box on the floor, crouching down next to his bags. Though you weren’t very good at it you could read, carefully reading over the words on the box. Strike anywhere matches, it read.

What matches? You wondered.

In the corner the man mumbled to himself, nonsensical sounds you couldn’t make out as words. From his various bags he pulled a blanket, thick and warm, wrapping himself up in it in front of the fire. You sat beside him, watching the flames sing with their crackling. Every now and then he’d push his hand back into his bag, pulling out something to eat. You couldn’t tell what it was, but he seemed to like it.

Now near to him, you tried to get a grasp on what he looked like beneath unruly hair and grime covering his face, noticing cold eyes and a sharp jaw. Full lips, rounded nose, nice cheekbones. Closer, his hair wasn’t as dark as you’d originally thought - more of a brown than a black, though perhaps that was just the fire playing tricks on your own eyes.

The rain brought its’ wrath above you, pounding on the sound structure of the roof. Looking the ceiling you thanked whomever for your inability to feel its’ sting, and cursed the very same for the lack of warmth the fire brought.

The sound of writing came from beside you, curiosity forcing you to look to the man beside you. He had pulled a leather-bound book out of his satchel, along with a wooden pencil, and was writing in it. Illegible to you, but the scribbles were clearly english. In the margins were sketches, scenery, and a lot of sheep and goats. You chuckled, looking at the silly tongue sticking out of a goats’ mouth. He sniffed, stopping to rub his eyes from the raw feeling fire might bring before resuming his task.

This continued only a moment more before he tied the book back together, sealing it from your use. Setting it beside his makeshift bed he settled down, enveloping his entire body in the warm blankets he’d taken with him. You leaned against the wall, watching his breathing slow, watching as the fire died. Sometime in the middle of the night he began shivering, and you glanced at him, wishing you could’ve helped.

Curse my form, you thought to yourself, leaving the church to stand outside. To his luck the rain had lightened, the drafts of wind no longer pouring water through the holes in the walls, though the ocean that spanned in front of you forever would bring cold air that would surely freeze you, if you could only feel it.

You stayed there, sitting on a nearby boulder, waiting for when the sun would rise.

When at last from behind light came, signaling the beginning of dawn, rustling caught your attention. Inside the man had woken and you rushed to see him, watching him tie his hair back. Outside he wandered, coming to the rocky edge of the ocean and dipping his hands in the freezing water. With that he splashed it on his face, cleansing his skin of the dirt that had riddled it so heavily the night before. Shaking his hands dry he turned back around, showing cleaner features like you’d never seen before.

He looked much better, a little more calm at least, without the weight of all that on him.

You followed after him when he went inside, watching him patting a carefree sheep on the head as he entered. He restarted the fire the same way he had at first, with the strike anywhere matches. The two of you, ignorant of the other, huddled around it, the occasional sniff or shuffle of cloth interrupting an otherwise elongated silence. After a moment he pulled another item you assumed was food out of his ratted bag, impaling it with a nearby stick and holding it over the fire.

It grew darker as the flames grew warmer, nearly enveloping the stick to the point where it was hard to see the food. He just kept it there, letting it burn, before pulling it out right as it began to light aflame. Blowing a quick breath on it the small spark was extinguished, and he let it sit in the air before nibbling away.

How odd, you thought to yourself.

The rest of the day he did little else but unpack. Though he carried little, he seemed to want to make a stay longer than one night. Out of his various bags and satchels came food, blankets, and trinkets, many of which you couldn’t define any use for. Some were carvings of animals, others stones - just plain and simple stones. Some were shells, or sticks with bark and lichen growing on it. He set these things neatly in a row on a flat rock that had made its’ way inside the church, the corners of his lips twisting up into a crooked half smile when they were all ordered in a clean fashion.

That night he did not stay inside to write, or tend to a fire. He sat outside, on the grassy plain before the short drop onto the rocky terrain that lined the ocean’s shore. Book in left hand and pencil in right he began drawing dots, staring up at the sky every so often. Sitting beside him, following his eyesight you realized he was cataloguing the stars, finding shapes you’d never quite seen before.

With a hefty sigh he closed his book, simply staring up at the sky, before taking another breath and closing his eyes. In curiosity you kept staring at him, trying to find some answer in his silence, or a longing in his movement. There was none.

You could not sleep. You dare not dream, as any dream would bring you closer to heaven or hell, and you would never chance the thought of hell. The man seemed similarly fashioned as you were, cut from the same cloth of sleepless, endless nights. In simple terms he did not sleep well that night, staring up at the dusty ceiling, hands folded together on his stomach and eyes wide. Through grunts and sighs, tossing and flipping he fell into an uneasy sleep, brows furrowed as he tugged at the soft blanket around him.

He seemed grumpy the next morning. Curt with every action, growling when things didn’t work well. When an unfortunate strike anywhere match did not do its’ intended duty, he threw the box to the ground, hiding his head in his hands and groaning loudly. You almost laughed, if you hadn’t been so worried of being heard. There was little cause for your worry, but it would’ve been rude if that was your first true interaction with him.

From his bed he grabbed a large, fur coat, one that he used as an extra blanket, and tugged it over his shoulders and arms. Wrapping the belts tightly around him he sheathed each dagger and otherworldly weapon safely in each designated pocket, pulling a smaller bag over his shoulders and promptly leaving.

As you watched him climb over the hills you wondered to yourself, would he ever come back? You supposed, most likely, he would. What with the delicate care he took lining all of his stones and twigs together, he wouldn’t forget them, or his giant, fuzzy blanket, or the pillows, or the strike anywhere matches. Those seemed important too.

To pass the time you took up your regular activities you had before the man had come. Wailing dramatically at your gravestone, staring wistfully into the distance at the shore of the ocean as waves crashed, petting sheep and desperately wishing you could actually feel them. Sheep, you’d discovered many years ago, were somewhat in tune with the dead. They would approach you sometimes, or avoid you if you’d somehow wronged them. Most of the time, if you were petting them, they’d stay still and push up into your hand as though you were really there. It was something you enjoyed immensely; a reminder that you existed. That your life wasn’t a fever dream.

Eventually, some time in the afternoon, he returned. Humming to himself a tune you didn’t know, he seemed in happier spirits than he was before, though keeping his coat on as he started no fire. Instead he pocketed one rock in one of his absurdly large pockets, had all his bags set down, and walked right back outside. With stumbling footsteps you followed behind, but as he wandered too far down the coast, leisurely strolling and taking in the views (though his left hand kept checking his knife was still there), you were very abruptly cast right back to the church.

You’d strayed too far from your grave, and now you sat upon it, cursing yourself once more. You kept your knee high, letting you push your chin against it to rest your head, though it needed no resting. In a somewhat maddening manner, you had no weight, no tangible existence, thus relaxing your head on your hand or knee did little for anything or anyone. Sitting grumpily on your gravestone, you waited for his return. He was the only entertaining thing around.

From the horizon he came, making you practically jump and gasp at his return. He breathed in deep, calm breaths, a contrast from his frustrating morning. Reentering the church he pulled another pebble out of his pocket, holding it in a large hand before setting it carefully alongside the rest of his collection. You watched from behind him, wondering if this was a religious ceremony.

The rest of the evening was spent watching him, notebook in hand, wander through the graveyard. Many of the names you recognized, as you had watched them be buried. You, however, were the first one to be lain underground, thus making your headstone the oldest. When at last he came to the front of the church, where the first stone had been cast, you fidgeted, wondering anxiously whether your name was even readable to someone who had never read your name before.

It must’ve been hard at least, as he crouched down, squinting his eyes, pencil ready to write down the name as he had been doing with each of the others graves. He tapped the end of his pencil against his chin, continuing his rather menacing gaze, before seemingly understanding.

“Ah,” he said to himself, turning to the white pages of his book to write. “(Y/N) (L/N).”

You smiled, a giddy feeling blooming in your heart as he stood. As he turned, before he could even fully process what had happened, he jumped ten feet in the air, staring directly at you, panting with wide eyes. Despite his obviously much larger form he kept his hands defensively in front of him, his feet taking a firm stance in the wet dirt.

For a moment all you did was stare at each other, confused and perturbed in every sense of the word.

“I… I can see through you. Thought… thought you, uh, might like to know that,” he said, and you could feel the smoothness of his voice in your mind, how warm it was and as deep as the sea his eyes held. You could barely understand him through a thick accent you’d never heard before.

“I know,” was all you could think to say. “I’m (Y/N). The, uh, one on th’ grave.”

He frowned, disbelieving. “No you’re not,” he claimed.

“I am. I can’t believe you can see me, actually, I haven’t been visible for many a year.”

“How do I know you aren’t lying?”

“Lying is a sin. I’m also see through.”

“Good point,” he mumbled gruffly, pocketing his notebook in another absurdly large coat pocket and wrapping the fur tight around him. He glanced at you warily, almost a scowl, before turning and going back inside the church. With light steps you followed, watching him sit down and start another fire.

With a bright spark a small flame started, growing higher and higher till it began to burn through large bricks of wood. You had so many questions for him, practically vibrating to hold back your need to ask them. What was life like? How many people were there? What new things had been found? Why had the church been abandoned?

At last when you couldn’t contain it anymore, you asked your most pertinent question.

“What’s your name?”

You leaned closer, kneeling beside him, eager for an answer. His eyes darted up at you from his crouched position, looking quickly back at the fire when he caught your gaze.

“Bucky,” he mumbled.

“Thas’ a nice name there,” you said quietly, matching his volume. “Was it yer’ fathers?”

“No,” he answered curtly.

“Oh. My name was a family name. Don’t mean much now I s’pose.”

In sudden movements he turned his body to face you, asking, “how long have you been here?”

“A good while now,” you shrugged. You hadn’t bothered to count the days, thinking it’d surely drive you mad.

“So you’ve been, uh, watching me,” he confirmed, his eyebrows still knitted together crossly.

“A tad. I think yer… interesting,” you settled on, smiling sweetly as you tried to catch his eye that had wandered to the ground.

“Hardly,” he muttered, turning back to the fire. You hummed, keeping your frown to yourself.

You only waited a few more seconds before asking more questions.

“What’s life like now? A haven’ been able t’ see for m’self.”

“Loud and crowded.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we breathe underwater?”

He turned to you, an amused but befuddled expression on his face.

“Not that I know of,” he answered. “Are you gonna leave me alone or not?”

You shifted uncomfortably, keeping your shoulders tense as you wondered whether you should lie to him or not. Could you even go back to being invisible?

“A don’t know. I cannae leave the church, but I s’pose I could try to go invisible,” you suggested meekly. “Why can’t you leave? Since you don’t like me.”

“I didn’t say that,” he snapped quickly, glancing to you for a second before looking right back at his well tended fire. “Don’t bother. With the whole invisible thing.”

“Oaye,” you said with a nod, curling up beside him, wondering if you’d ever achieve a form to feel warmth.

The two of you sat quietly, him staring at the fire unblinking, and you watching both the flames and him. Once a few minutes had passed, you noticed his eyes reddening with tears, a few trailing down his cheeks.

“You alright?”

“Yes. My eyes just burn,” he explained quickly, taking his sleeve and wiping them away with a sniff. You looked over the coat, noticing how warm it must’ve kept him.

“Where’d y’ get th’ coat?”

“… a friend,” he grumbled.

“Is very nice,” you commented, holding back the urge to reach out. It looked so soft, the fur fluttering in the wind, but you knew you wouldn’t have felt it no matter.

He grunted, but otherwise stayed silent. In all truth he felt very little animosity towards you, as you hadn’t done a mean thing yet, but as in all cases of meeting people, he was wary. Careful. You noticed this behavior, and to his gratefulness, respected his need for distance.

As the sky grew dark he tightened the drooping robes around him, sealing himself in warmth. Glancing quickly at him you noticed tired eyes, and began counting down the minutes to when he would fall asleep. You leaned forward, flames licking away at your unfeeling cheek.

“You going t’ sleep?”

“No,” he said, his eyes suddenly opening wide as he grasped at his large coat blanket, the creases growing larger with tension.

“Is fine if ye do. I’ll… go outside.”

You dwelled in his silence, watching carefully for his movement. A few more seconds of waiting proved fruitful as he slowly shifted, lumbering to his feet, and half waddling over to his makeshift bed.

“The sheep need t’ be sheared. Could make a nice bed,” you commented in a dismissive manner, floating on through the wall. Inside you heard a soft flump, and the sound of ragged breath as the fire dimmed to an ember.

Though you’d spent forever in solitude, it felt eons longer waiting for the sun. It was the first time since you died that you were able to talk to someone and earn a reply - the feeling, though anxious, was divine, and for a moment it felt as though you were real. That you were material, that you mattered, but you knew better. Everything would remind you that you knew better. You could stand in fire and survive, wade in the deepest oceans if only not tied to your headstone.

And you could not feel his touch. Not once did you even try, and neither did he, out of respect for his boundaries, and fear of your own sheer existence.

Perhaps you one day would feel. Your sensory deprivation was a special kind of hell, but you held hope, a thing that was not deserved.

The mornings arrival brought an end to dark thoughts. You stuck your head through the wall, watching the mound of blankets in the corner rise to reveal a dark matted head of hair. He stretched his arms high, letting out a light yawn before he stood.

“Mornin’ Bucky,” you said, shifting through the rest of the wall with a bright and friendly smile. He mumbled incoherently to himself, rubbing his face. “Anything t’ do today?”

“Going into town.”

You wanted desperately to come with. So much so in fact, that you almost asked, before remembering that it was futile anyways. You watched him sling bags over his shoulders, tightening belts and pulling his massive coat onto his arms.

“What are y’ gonna get?” You asked instead, eyes trailing after him as he left the church.

“You’ll see,” he said, which was not at all comforting. You frowned, making a grumbling noise to indicate your dissatisfaction with your answer. As he left you could see him just barely smile.

Patiently you waited, seated atop your grave, letting your finger drift through the grass, watching it part just slightly. With great concentration you could move tiny parts of the physical world, but it was never something you quite needed to do. What with being dead and all, you had close to no necessities, except an endless boredom which you’d gotten quite good at curbing.

When at last his matted hair rose above the grassy hills in the distance you looked up, watching him as he walked closer. His bag, hanging from his right shoulder, drooped heavily from his body, weighing down and creasing the material. He came to stand in front of you, dropping to his knees. Quietly, you watched him dig into the bag, pulling out a strange, silver rectangular object, decorated with knobs and dips all over it.

“What is it?” You asked, letting your hand phase through it.

“Called a radio. Got it at a thrift store,” he told you in a mumble, keeping his voice low. While you had absolutely no idea what a radio was or a thrift store (you could safely assume things were bought and sold there), a grin parted your lips.

“What’s it do?” You tried to interact physically with it, pressing a knob and letting it turn. In fascination you giggled, your eyes wide as you watched the different knobs turn.

“Plays music. Or just voices,” he said, pressing a button to the side of it.

Out of the silver box sprang a tune, singing brightly through crackling noises, filling up the old abandoned graveyard. You laughed, astounded at the sound, feeling your heart burst with joy. It had been so long you’d gone without music - it hadn’t ever crossed your mind, but now that you could hear it once more, you realized just how much you needed it.

“Woah! That’s… fantastic!” You gasped, getting down on the ground to look at the box from a different angle. “Where are the voices comin’ from?”

“Um… they can record sound now, and replay it, so that’s… kind of what’s happening,” he tried to explain, doing a poor job of it and drifting off when he found he had little idea what he was talking about. You didn’t mind though. All that mattered was that the voices were singing brightly, and that he’d done this for you.

“Thank you, so much,” you said with an air of amazement, looking up at him from your position on the ground.

“It’s just a thing,” he mumbled.

“Not to me.”

He swallowed thickly, turning away from you with a red face. You laughed, closing your eyes to enjoy the music more. Lying down, your hands intertwined on your chest, you could hear it better, just listening to the melody and the instruments you could never name. He listened just the same, keeping his eye on the horizon, and his knees close to his chest.

For a good while he sat with you, his foot tapping up and down anxiously and much faster than the beat of the music. When a particularly slow song ended he stood, stepping over your body even though he could’ve walked straight through. Societal norms, you explained to yourself, relaxing right back into the music.

When night approached the music stopped, and instead voices came. Just talking to each other, having some sort of conversation. Still you listened, absorbing the information they gave and understanding little.

You opened your eyes to the stars, and listening a little too closely to the voices you were surprised to see Bucky suddenly standing above you, covered in his furs and looking as tall and mean as ever.

“Are you coming inside?” Was all he asked, but the question confused you. Did he want you inside? Why would he want you inside? You would never actually voice these questions, but watching him stare at you with a rather angry expression, you needed to answer.

“Uh - yes! Of course,” you said, stumbling to your feet. He grunted, reaching down to turn off the radio and gather it in his arms. You followed behind him into the church, hearing the fire crackle before you could see it. Inside was warm as ever, the light dancing in tandem with the shadows, intertwining around his shadow body and ignoring you entirely.

With a soft fwump he sat on the ground, on a rather soft looking cushion that you hadn’t seen before. Sitting beside him caused no creases, but gravity still seemed to work on you, making your body lean into his, but you pulled yourself away, still refraining from touching him.

He acted a very sensitive fellow, and though quiet and brooding, you knew saying little did not mean he felt little. On the contrary the people you’d met who were quiet often felt emotion intensely, and watching him set the radio on the ground gingerly, you kept this in mind.

“It ’twas very kind of ye t’ get me that,” you said quietly, tilting your head to him with the prettiest eyes you could manage. He stiffened, pursing his lips together. This time he had no answer for you, just a silent and tiny turn of the head away from you.

Still you smiled, letting it reach your eyes and crinkle the pale, dead skin there.

The rest of the evening he wrote in his little book, turning away from you whenever you tried to peer over his shoulder.

“I cannae read it anyway, yer handwritin’ is godawful,” you grumbled, crossing your arms.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he replied, and you didn’t really know what principle meant, but he smiled, so you did as well. After that, despite telling you off so many times, he let you look over his shoulder. You kept at a safe distance, watching him write but not near enough to be breathing in his ear.

As the fire began to dim he closed up the book, setting another log on the fire to keep it going till he fell asleep. You sat to the side of his pillow as he lay down, bringing the blankets over his body.

“What do ye write about in there?” You asked quietly, watching him intently as light flickered across his face. He sighed, rolling onto his side and looking up at you.

“My day. Or friends, sometimes memories,” he answered in an almost solemn tone, gentle and quiet.

“Memories?”

“I don’t remember stuff well. So when I do, I write it down,” he explained, half mumbling into his pillow. “I dunno, it’s stupid.”

“I think it’s sweet,” you hummed, running your hand over the stone of the floor. Lately you’d been practicing interacting more with the world, what with being visible again. He made a grumbling noise that sounded a bit like he was choking, pulling the blankets up to his nose. “What about your friends?”

“What about them,” he said flatly, voice muffled by the blanket.

“What are they like?”

Pondering your question before he answered, he shifted beneath the covers.

“I only have two,” he started, but you quickly interrupted.

“And me,” you said, earning a dissatisfied grunt.

“You’re dead.”

“And I don’t matter any less,” you defended. He hummed in quiet agreement before continuing.

“Steve’s nice. Big guy, bigger than me.”

You didn’t think that possible - Bucky was already enormous compared to you and everyone you knew.

“Then there’s… uh, Sam. I guess he counts. He’s a bit of an ass really,” he chuckled and you followed. “I forgot about Natasha. She’s a good fighter. Did a lot of shit to get like that, too.”

“Sounds like a fun group,” you said. He nodded, yawning and closing his eyes. You left it at that, waiting till his breathing was rough and even till you left to stare at the stars, and wonder what they might condemn or bless you to.

In the morning he came outside, sitting beside you before you even realized he was awake. Yawning, wrapped in his fur blankets the two of you stared out over the ocean. He kept silent, the slow breathing matching the crashing movement of the waves.

“I was thinking,” he said, his voice a murmur like the crackling of a dying storm. You turned, facing him, your head supported by your knees. “What ties you to your grave?”

“Probably my body.”

“Wouldn’t it have decomposed by now?”

“Decomp-what?”

“Long explanation,” he said, looking like he regretted bringing it up. “But I don’t think your body is… there anymore.”

“Who took it?”

“The ground did.”

“Oh.”

“So if it’s not your body, what do you think is tying you there?”

“My name holds power,” you said, recalling different tales. “Given to a witch she has power o’er me. Given to you, you may see me. It might be that.”

“What do you think’ll happen if we… erased your name from the headstone?” He asked, glancing in your direction but not fully meeting your gaze.

“Might disappear. Might be tied to you,” you shrugged.

“Tied to me?”

“You’ve got my name written in that there book,” you said, pointing towards his notebook poking out of his pocket. Shifting, he tucked it in deeper. He mumbled something you couldn’t quite hear, and patiently you asked him to repeat himself.

“It wouldn’t be that bad,” he said louder, still mumbling, a red blush gracing his cheeks that you could just barely see behind his falling hair.

“No,” you said, brushing his hair behind his ear. He shivered, fighting to lean into and away from your touch. “It wouldn’t be bad at all. Just… make sure you don’t lose your notebook.”

“Right,” he murmured.

Later that day you sat on your gravestone, watching as below you he took a stone, scratching out your name.

“Tell me if you feel something change,” he said, wiping the dust off the first letter gone. You nodded silently, somehow knowing you’d be alright. And if you weren’t, that’d be fine too. You’d been tied to your grave for far too long to care.

As the last letter of your last name was swiped away, you expected something - an emotion, a movement, but nothing in the world swayed. All that was remained, including you, staring at the man before you.

“I s’pose I belong t’ you now,” you murmured with a smile, one he easily returned.

“Guess so.”

“Does it bother you?”

“No..,” he said quietly, his fingers hovering over yours, tangling till they connected with yours. “Not at all.”

#bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #male reader #female reader #marvel

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flipomatic · 3 years

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A New World Chapter 1 - The Usual Place

Summary: With all five of them at the table like this, it felt like nothing had changed. Of course, Lisa knew that wasn’t true. Just for a moment though, just for tonight, she indulged herself.

After graduation, most of Roselia went on to university. The band continued on, reaching for the top. A series of stories chronicling their journey along the way.

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Author Note: This is a project I outlined last year, but didn’t start working on until now. Welcome, and I hope you enjoy the journey!

This fic will be a series of self-contained, connected stories.

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For the last few months, Lisa felt like she was watching the world pass by in slow motion. Each day felt longer than the last. Studying for entrance exams and applying to universities had absorbed her time, pulling her away from dance and Roselia. Rinko, Sayo, and Yukina had been just as busy, all working towards their own goals.

For the third-year members of the band, Roselia had to be put on hold. They cancelled practices, a solution they all disliked. It was only temporarily, as they prepared for the next phase of their lives, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant.

Lisa still practiced on her own to stay sharp, as the others would too. Roselia was still far from the top, and she would need to be the best bassist she could to get them there.

Unfortunately, there hadn’t been much time to practice. There were always more practice questions to do, more information to cram inside her brain, and more paperwork to be done.

Finally, that ended today.

A few hours earlier, when the sun was still high in the sky, Lisa had graduated from Haneoka. Along with Yukina and the rest of her classmates, she’d been granted her diploma. It had felt unreal, even as the ceremony ended. High school was over, and soon the next phase of her life would begin.

After the ceremony, Lisa left the school for the last time and celebrated with her family. It was nice, spending time with them. She’d been too busy over the last few months, missing out on time with her family in addition to the band.

Later, Lisa left the house. She had promised to be somewhere. It was close enough to walk.

As Lisa checked the time on her phone, 7:55 pm, the flow of time finally returned to normal. She scrolled back up the group text, verifying that the others all agreed to the time.

A cool breeze swept by, the brief chill reminding Lisa that it was still early spring. The family restaurant was ahead of her, the same one Roselia often met at. She peered through the windows, but didn’t spot any of her bandmates. The restaurant had only a few patrons, which was typical for this time of day.

She must’ve been first, Lisa thought as she entered the building. She greeted the staff politely before claiming a booth off to the side. It was close enough to the door that she’d be easy to spot.

With her phone face up on the table, Lisa waited for the others. She cast her eyes towards the window, but they were unfocused. She wasn’t looking out.

No, instead Lisa was lost in her own thoughts.

As of today, she was no longer a high school student. Now she was a university student, at the University of Tokyo. Her hard work studying had paid off when she was admitted to their general studies program.

This degree would open a lot of doors for her if she succeeded. It had a wide variety of topics to prepare her for the working world. The program was going to be a lot of work, but Lisa was up to the task. If she could handle keeping up with Roselia, she could handle attending university.

The university was close enough to commute by train, though it would take a while to get there each day. That was fine, as long as Lisa could stay near the band. She couldn’t imagine living far away from Yukina, not seeing her often.

“Imai-san.” Sayo appeared at the side of the table, with her usual curt greeting. She sat down across from Lisa. Now it was 7:57.

“Hey Sayo.” Lisa smiled warmly back at her. “How was graduation?” Hanasakigawa had their ceremony on the same day.

The corner of Sayo’s lip lifted. “Quite pleasant, Hina gave a wonderful speech.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Sayo had plans for after high school as well. Soon she would be starting at Tokyo College of Music, studying electric guitar composition. When Lisa had asked her why composition, Sayo said she wanted to develop her own music. “Did you take a video?”

A minute later, barely enough time for Sayo to send Lisa the recording, Yukina arrived. She sat next to Lisa with just a nod, sliding in to sit close to her.

Yukina would be attending the Tokyo University of Arts, studying vocals. Lisa had been watching her sing for years, following in the path her vocals led. She would fully support Yukina in this as well.

At 8:00, just two minutes later, Ako and Rinko loudly approached. “Congratulations!” Ako called as she practically skipped up and sat down.

Rinko trailed after her with a much quieter, “Good evening,” as she took the last spot next to Ako. Rinko planned to attend the same university as Sayo, studying piano. She had confessed hesitation to join the program, but still enrolled in it.

Ako was going to be a second year in high school, still at Haneoka. She had committed to raising her grades and staying on top of her studying even though the rest of the band had graduated.

With all five of them at the table like this, it felt like nothing had changed.

Of course, Lisa knew that wasn’t true. Just for a moment though, just for tonight, she indulged herself.

They ordered a plate of fries for the table, the same as usual.

“Next week we will resume regular band practice.” Yukina, not one for small talk, went right to the topic at hand. “Lisa, what days do we have reserved?”

“Uh, one second I’ll check.” Lisa picked her phone up, before swiping it open and tapping on the calendar. “Tuesday and Thursday from 3:00 to 6:00.” It was a pretty light schedule, but it was the first week back after graduation and Lisa hadn’t wanted to overdo it.

“Can we add one on Saturday?” Sayo asked, a slight frown set on her face.

Lisa nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” She jotted down a note to call the studio tomorrow.

“I’m so excited to get back to practicing!” Ako hit her fingers against the table as if mock drumming. “I’ve been practicing a super cool drumstick toss.”

“I-it’s very impressive.” Rinko added, she must’ve seen the move already.

Sayo was less easily impressed. “Does it enhance your playing?” She asked, bringing her hands together on the table.

Ako’s toothy grin faltered. “It’s part of my image!” She countered, undeterred by the criticism.

“I’m interested in seeing it.” Lisa cut in, which brought Ako’s smile back in full force.

“It will help us reach the top.” Yukina, who had been listening calmly, interjected. “That is Roselia’s goal.” She spoke levelly as usual, with only slight inflections portraying her emotions. Lisa was used to parsing her words, to listening for those hints.

“Exactly!” Ako harumphed at Sayo, having won the debate.

The arrival of the fries changed the topic, switching to talk about the kinds of snacks they would bring to practice next week. Lisa was going to make a whole batch of cookies, to commemorate resuming rehearsal. Sayo offered to help, so they planned to meet up in a couple days.

The group discussed what songs they needed to rehearse. Some of their newer music was still rough, and taking a break like this hadn’t made it any easier. Sayo had put together a list ahead of time, which she read aloud to the group.

Lisa jotted the songs down on the calendar, so she would know which songs would be rehearsed when. She needed to practice a lot before then, to make sure she could keep up.

The conversation drifted to university, to the studies each of them was about to embark on. Ako listened to them with stars in her eyes.

Soon, the plate of fries was empty. It was time to go home.

The five walked together at first, headed in the same direction. They then split into their usual groups. Sayo split off to go home alone, then Rinko and Ako turned together.

This left Yukina and Lisa, walking the last stretch side by side.

The sun had long set, leaving the moon rising in the distance. The night was mostly clear, with only a few whisps of clouds. The stars were hard to see from under the streetlamps; only the brightest were visible.

Yukina’s hand, dangling by her side as she walked, was only a few inches away.

Lisa wondered what would happen if she took it. If she crossed that wide, gaping space, and intertwined their fingers together. How would Yukina react? With a blush and a smile? Or with rejection?

It was only a few inches, less than half a foot, but it felt impossible. That space was filled with years of friendship, pain, hardship, triumph, and longing. There was no room for Lisa’s hand, no room for her feelings.

As much as she wanted to reach over, here at this new starting point, she didn’t want things to change.

Lisa glanced up from Yukina’s hand, only to find two golden eyes locked on her.

“What’s wrong?” Yukina asked, her voice having risen with concern.

Lisa shook her head, forcing her lips up into a smile. “Nothing, just thinking.” She spun a story, built on the same lie she’d been telling herself for years. “Maybe we should write a new song, since the band is practicing again.”

“That’s a good idea.” Yukina seemed placated, as she now looked thoughtful.

The two discussed the topic as they walked home, through the dark evening light. There was much to do to prepare for rehearsal, and no time to waste.

The hours and days passed by, at their usual pace.

Despite Lisa’s wishes, somehow both slowly and all at once the wheels of change started to turn.

Next Chapter

#bang dream #yukilisa #lisayuki #minato yukina #imai lisa #bang dream fanfiction #bang dream fanfic #shirokane rinko #hikawa sayo #udagawa ako #y'all roselia has me in their grasp again #i love them #so freaking much #and writing this wistful yukilisa made me so happy #it's been so long #they're so good #flip writes #crying sounds

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nathanfryerwoods · 4 years

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Lucky Stars (Chapters 1-14) - by Nathan Fryer-Woods

1 It was a dark, cold night. Which was kind of fitting for the beginning of any story. But in south east Asia, when you start feeling the cold, you know you've been there too long. And as a ginger kid from the north of England, he should have been in his element.

He was so far from the place he had once called home. And it had been years since he'd felt the long, scalding hug of the hallway radiator, on his return home from whatever trouble he'd been causing, beyond the icy front door.

He had never really, truly missed home, that was until now. He longed for that familiar smell of the old underlay carpet in the council flat he once had. The flat he received after he was crippled by a speeding police car, whilst trying to cross the road years before. There was no compensation. But, as a result, he became the king of his own castle. A place for him to lick his wounds. It was dark and dingy, and located in the back of beyond where the undesirables of town were kept, but he didn't care. He was happy, and it was his. The only place he's ever really been able to call his own. But now, those days, seemed like a lifetime away.

Today, he's found himself trapped in a different kind of paradise, one he thought he'd never want to leave. He had always believed humans to be of a semi-nomadic nature, but he had found happiness here, and at one time, for the first time since childhood, he had felt settled.

That was until, that 'thing' happened. He didn't like talking about it, and when he did, would get so frustrated. No one understood it like he did, not many people at least.

It had been 3 months since he last saw another foreigner, 3 months since he had seen anything of the world outside of their village. And he was an explorer at heart. Though he never strayed too far off the beaten track, and he'd never discovered anything new, he was always looking, it was just a matter of time... it was in his blood. His itch for exploration, grew stronger by the day.

His wife was the only one in their village who could speak any English, (although he sometimes felt he got a better conversation from their eight and a half month old son), she was the only one who had even half a chance of vaguely understanding him at a deeper level. They had met 3 years previous in the capital city. A place with a pace he was used to, and found comfort in. But now, thanks to certain 'things', and the changing world around them, he found himself in the place his wife found the most comforting, her parents cashew nut farm. Up a hill, in the middle of nowhere. He felt like an elephant, with sore thumbs, in a pond, full of fish. Sticking out... misunderstood.

2 It was the 21st of December, not only the day of the winter solstice, but in the year of the 'Great Conjunction', between Saturn and Jupiter. Tonight the world would see these astral giants, seemingly merge into one, forming what is known as the 'Christmas Star'. It had been 397 years since this alignment last took place, just 13 years before Galileo built his first telescope to marvel at the heavens above.

This event had to signify something, he knew it would, but he was far too apprehensive to look so deeply into it. He convinced himself it was a positive, auspicious event, but at the same time made a mental note to his brain's list of 'things to do', to see what the ancients made of it. After all, when the God of Thunder and his mighty Son do a high-five in the night sky, one should be prepared, or so he believed. But, that list in his head seemed to never end, it would only ever get longer. He knew, and readily admitted to himself, he would probably never get round to it. And in time, as soon as it was far too late, that entry like many before it would drop off the list, as just another faded memory.

The day before, he had tried to explain to his wife, the solstice, the tilt of the Earth, and the reason for it being so cold this time of year. But soon realising that the battle for her attention against her best friend - the phone, was a battle he always lost, he promptly gave up.

The previous week, her two youngest siblings (the brothers, aged 11 and 14), had asked him if they had shooting stars back in England. After 7 years of practice, his level of the local language was good enough to articulate most of the things he wanted to say (although this particular part of the country was the last of the true tribal areas, with 13 different clans each with their own dialect, making understanding them more of a challenge). He explained to the brothers, in as simple of terms as possible, the physics of the phenomenon. How more often than not, a shooting star was nothing more than a small pebble from outer space, travelling at unimaginable speed towards the Earth. And how it's magnificent trail was made as it burnt up in the atmosphere before it was able to reach us.

Seeing the mystery and magic in their faces fade before his very eyes, he quickly moved on to let them know how it was customary back home, after seeing a shooting star, to make a little wish to yourself. And that this, was not to be wasted. He imagined, how even the most hardened criminals themselves probably couldn't resist this, and even they would make one. Maybe it's quite likely that wish would be for guns, drugs or money. But you never know, the inner child in all of us, where that belief is instilled, only wants one of two things; love and happiness. And with that, comes security. The magic we're raised with as children, if at all, dies hard. And even with years of learning from science, logic and reason, some magic we just can't let go of. No matter how many times it's failed us.

After seeing at least some of the mystery return to their faces, he moved back - with faith, to cold, hard, facts. He explained how if these space pebbles were any bigger, and hadn't completely burnt up on their descent to Earth, even a rock the size of a toy car (available to hand at the time), could devastate the planet. At the very least, make a real mess around the site of impact. He used the 3000 year old crater lake, situated down the road as an example. This, would be the last thing he'd say on the matter. The brothers went on to let him know, how their hole in the Earth was different. Through the unique use of their local, hillbilly twang, they managed to get the point across that in fact, their crater was made by a great, angry, pig-like God from the skies... obviously, and he should have seen it coming.

The shattered pain that was once on the boy's faces, had transferred onto his own. He retreated back into his own mind, to his own thoughts. A place he understood, and needed no explanations. With no brick walls that he could waste his time with, by banging his head against.

3 The Sun had set, another day was done. The candy floss pink and tangerine orange that had painted the sky was gone, but the clouds remained, blanketing the Earth. Tonight was noticeably warmer, though he was still cold. And no matter how the clouds littered the sky, he still had hope that he would be able to see the events in the sky unfold. He'd poke his head out of their bedroom every twenty minutes or so and peer upwards. And around. Every direction, as he was a little unsure as to which way was west. The cloudy blanket persisted in its existence. All that was visible was a near half Moon and Polaris, the north star, slowly but surely running in circles, chasing its tail. He headed back inside, his hopes unscathed, there was still time.

'Just one more hour', he thought to himself, 'and the great high-five of the Gods would set sail over the horizon'. The anxiety got the better of him, he zipped his jacket back up, and ventured out again.

The Moon had become but a faint shimmer in a dirty pool, and Polaris was nowhere to be seen. In 5 brief minutes, the sky-scape had taken an unfortunate turn for the worse. The magic, once again, was passing him by. His wife came out with their Son in arm, to see what they'd been missing. She had been listening. It was a trade off that he was more than happy to make. 'I can wait sixty years for the next alignment', he thought to himself, 'I'll catch it in the next life'. His new little family meant the world to him, and nothing much else mattered.

4 It was 8am when he rose up out of bed. Not so early, but not too late either, in his opinion at least. He could have done with an extra hour, but the rooster that had been howling since 4am, couldn't be ignored any longer. He threw on his jacket and headed outside.

The Sun was glaring down on him, the clouds had dispersed. "Thanks clouds", he grumbled under his breath. "Any other day this month, and last nights weather would've..." and then, that thought vanished. He'd caught a glimpse of his Son's peaceful face, sleeping, swinging in the cammo hammock. His mind instantly emptied itself with ease, and in the same moment, filled the vacuum with a calming peace. His Son's happiness was contagious to him, a contagious cure to all his frustrations.

His extended family had been up for a few hours already, as was normal. 6am usually, to start the day with the important things in life. Sewing tapestries, playing on phones, picking their faces, more sleep. They looked down on him for not being awake so early, but he was unsure of what they expected him to be doing at 6am. He never saw them doing anything important at that time of day, and very little changed as the day went on.

Another thing that didn't help, was their inability to grasp the concept of sleeping disorders. His diagnosis came far too late for him, at the age of 25, just a few years before leaving England. It had already shaped his life by then, and in some way or another, had made him who he was. He now knew, that what had forever plagued his sleep was a combination of apnea, delayed sleep phase disorder, and the slight hint towards a long standing, yet self-coping problem called narcolepsy. A diagnosis the doctor didn't want to make. He learnt to never go with a self diagnosis of a problem again. A well paid opinion, is obviously worth so much more than anyone else's. Even when blood tests showed he had the gene needed to predispose a person to this condition, they were reluctant to admit he might be right. He was prescribed with the search of a night job.

His father in-law was a good man. He'd worked hard all his life to provide for his wife and five children, and then their children too, of which little Finlay, was number four. He loved them all like they were his own.

The farm was around half a hectare in size, with around sixty large cashew trees, five mango trees, and banana and papaya also being dotted about. The land fairly rugged and unkempt, as cashew season didn't start for another month or so. Soon, the whirring of the weed-whacker would fill the air, making the search for nuts and the spotting of snakes much easier.

The family tractor was being rented by an owner of a sweet potato farm, 100km away, southwest of them. This way good news, it was old, and it stunk. And now, it was someone else's problem to fix every other day, and they were paying for that privilege. The last time Lawrie was here was when Finlay was born (sorry, I've never been good at introductions, but baby is Finlay, or Finn, and Dad is Lawrie. Well, Lawrie's his surname... Dan, Daniel, Danny never appealed to him, and even his parents stuck to calling him Lawrie). Ok, where was I..?

...yeah, so the last time he was at the in-laws farm, was when his beautiful baby boy was born. Early April, a healthy 3.6kg. And as sure as anything, without fail - every other night, Pa would be half submerged in the belly of this beast, covered in oil as it spluttered away. Not such a soothing sound to send your Son to sleep.

These days, Pa would spend his time making furniture at his sister's house just beyond the back of the farm. Each evening, a new chair, stool or table would appear, and the huge piles of illegally logged wood, dotted around the plot would slowly, bit by bit disappear. As did the jungle that surrounded them.

5 Their village was located 10km outside of the nearest town, and the closest city was another 30km beyond that. That was the city of Lombang, the province capital (though the spelling of this, as did many other place tended to vary, wildly). The city was big, whilst at the same time, all being nicely spaced out. Apart from the market area, nowhere seemed to get so busy. The city itself wasn't over commercialised, the way a western city would be, mainly made up of independent, family owned businesses, it had a very local feel to it. That's what Lawrie liked most of all about this country... the people, the locals. For all the differences in culture, and the difficulties they created (of which there'd been many over the years), only added another layer of excitement and adventure to his whole experience. No matter how different other people saw him as being, he seldom cared. He had spent his entire life back home as the ginger sheep, and that had prepared him well, for life out here.

He missed the city. He'd only managed to explore it for one day the last time they were here, when Finn was around two months old. He lost the plot one morning, waking to find his wife, Nib, sat feeding the baby, downwind of a roaring fire made entirely of plastic. He was sick of telling her, and she was tired of hearing it. He turned his back and walked away, away from the stench of burning straws, and the feeling of absolute futility. He gathered the essentials, made the small trip to the road at the top of the plot and flagged-down the first van he saw. Finally, it was adventure time. It all happened so fast. He loved being on the road, but all the way there, couldn't stop thinking about his new born bundle.

6 The driver and the passengers all seemed friendly enough. Very inquisitive, as once was normal, but on this occasion, a nice surprise. Especially with how the world was turning these days. He wore his face mask, no matter how useless he knew it was to him. It was unfortunately, an essential item.

Forty kilometers and two and a half bucks later, they arrived. He found the journey so refreshing, though Finn was constantly in the back of his mind, with not much to see along the way to steal his thoughts completely. Just miles upon miles of lush, jungle-covered hills, beyond the back to back farms that were broken up every so often by a roadside shack of a shop. So many farms.. cashew, pepper, mango, rubber, you name it, he saw it. And every so often, the odd little spot of deforestation in the distance, clearing space for a few more.

He spent the day exploring, and enjoying his first taste of freedom in what felt like years. You see, his wife's hometown is so rural, and that trapped in their tribal mentality, even they have a hard time getting out. And generally, unless they have to, they just don't bother. Nib had told him how a while back, one of her uncles had an infection in his leg, a drunken mishap from a motorbike fall, from which he burnt himself on the exhaust pipe. He had to do the three kilometer journey on foot, through the next village to the one beyond it where the nearest thing to a hospital was. About half way there in the next hometown, you pass by the the village chief's house, who on this particular occasion, for once was awake. He imagined him stumbling out of some grand, overly ornate, heavy wooden chair, on the orders from ten or so yelping, mangy dogs. One well worn flip-flop on, while failing miserably to secure the other, not giving it the slightest bit of thought, as he starred intently at the intruding stranger, hobbling by. The chief had demanded from him, one buffalo, in order to let him pass. You're welcome to go back and read over that line again, but you got it right first time. Yes, a buffalo. A few minutes of talking by the roadside, and they'd worked out a deal, two chickens would seal it. Her uncle shuffled back home, dragging his manky leg, and after snagging two of his most sickly looking birds, started the journey again. All in the hope, of paying someone to gouge out a huge chunk of his inner thigh.

The relative bustle of the city was a much welcomed change for Lawrie. He criss-crossed his way down the main roads and through side streets to reach the city limits, and then double-back on himself in a slightly different direction, stopping here and there at the sight of an esky cooler to pick up a fifty cent beer.

He arrived rather early by his standards, maybe 8.30. But with no watch, phone, or any idea of what time he woke up, he could only guess. Over the years, he had gotten pretty good at working out the time, between the Sun and the shadows. He was usually only off by about 15 minutes or so. But who cared what time it was? It's his day off. And this called for another fifty cent-er.

The day went on and his heart was glad. He knew that fresh emptiness he felt in the background wouldn't be there for long, and that soon enough he'd be back with his boy. He missed Nib too, but pushed that thought out, whenever she crossed his mind.

He wandered through the rest of the day. No plans, no direction, and not so much to worry about. He ate, drank, bought a dummy and a rabbit teddy bear which he called Barney and headed back to the edge of town that he'd arrived at, making his way home before sunset. Nib was waiting on the front, waiting with a hug.

7 It was Christmas Eve, and this year looked like it was set to be Lawrie's best and worst to date. But considering the problems that the people of Earth were facing, it was likely, this year was to be a historically bad one worldwide... with maybe only the 'black death', and world wars outdoing it. These were strange days to be living in.

His lack of cash, and no real friends or family to share what little he did have, made the whole occasion rather pointless. He'd been asking Nin for the last nine days to help him find a pair of wooden chopsticks. He'd tried, but with no luck. He also hadn't mastered the pronunciation of 'chopsticks', it was a tricky one.

He wanted to fashion them into baby sized drumsticks, the first part of a home made drum kit he planned to make. As money was scarce, and Finn was too young to understand the concept of Christmas, he decided that this was ok. Especially, as no one for miles around, gave this holiday even a single thought.

Chop-drumsticks were kind of perfect as a Christmas present out here. Lawrie had been tapping away rhythms and singing to his Son, ever since he found out he was in Nib's belly. He'd play him songs too on his guitar, and old song recordings online. Classics from the golden era of the 60's, as his parents had done for him, when he was young.

Apart from being cheap and cheerful, chopsticks were also importantly, disposable, bio-degradable, and readily available everywhere in Asia (everywhere but, apparently, this village). He'd come to learn that while living on the farm, nothing here was actually his. Nothing belonged to anyone it seemed. At any moment, someone's grubby little mits could appear, and 'borrow', anything they wanted, not return it, and leave it half buried in the dirt to be found a week later. Just days before, the younger brother, Rutt, had taken Lawrie's lighter and Finn's favourite toy. A small, yellow, rubber pig. As Finn was teething, it was more of a chew-toy for him (the dummy by this point, had been savaged by dogs). He loved that little pig, and upon spotting it, would shuffle over, pop it in his mouth and gnaw away. Who knows where it ended up. Apparently, not even Rutt knew.

'Give it a week', he thought. 'It'll turn up.' Probably as a charred, molten puddle, next to a broken lighter, but he'd find it eventually.

The day was surprisingly calm and quiet. Pa had left early, sometime before sunrise, making the eighty kilometer journey to the city of Somtang. Life on the farm was always a little more relaxed when Pa was out of town. Lawrie couldn't work out why, as he was the most placid of the whole family, making him Lawrie's favourite. Even so, Pa's brief departures were always good news, a little more peace and quiet on the farm was much needed. He'd be back in a week or so, and he'd be bringing the rasping roar of the tractor with him.

8 Between the hours of midday and 3pm, were Lawrie's best time of day, as he usually had the house to himself. The screaming match that accompanied lunch, would cease around 12pm. Not completely or instantly, but it would get quieter and more distant, as they each skulked off in their various directions, with their own, distinct rackets.

Ma and Nib would go to one of three places. The shop over the road, the one around the corner, or Pa's sister's house out the back. Basically, wherever the card game is happening that day, where Ma can loose the money someone else has given her, and then spend the rest of the day spreading bitterness because of it. Lawrie didn't know where the rest of them went, and never cared to ask. But he knew where Pa was, Pa was always working.

He sat alone in the bedroom, enjoying the silence. His only disturbance coming from a faint yet piercing buzz in his ear, from a rouge mosquito that had managed to sneak in through the gaps between the concrete walls and wooden ceiling. A clap, or a self-slap to the side of his face would usually sort that out, or half of the time at least.

He had, ever since the age of nineteen and had he left home for the last time, been some sort of vegetarian. For as long as his memory went back, he had always hated the thought of things dying for his food. To him, it just seemed so unnecessary. But out here, with the snakes, spiders, scorpions and mosquitos, his long standing beliefs were set aside. Some things were asking to be killed. He'd always say sorry, and wish them better luck in their next life... all except the mosquitos, he took pleasure in wasting them.

He had been surprised upon first arriving in the country, by many things. During the three days it took him to get here, he felt excitement at the thought of visiting a Buddhist country for the first time. He imagined all the food and flavours he'd discover there, and how it must be much easier getting a decent meal that was death-free, and involved fewer funny looks, as the majority of people there were Buddhist.

But he was wrong. Totally, fucking wrong. It wasn't long after arriving, when he saw a sight he'd never forget, and that would help him on his way to understanding the madness of the place he found himself...

A monk, driving a car, drinking a coke, smoking a cigarette.

'Wow', he thought to himself, visibly gawping, his jaw on the floor, catching flies. 'Wow'.

9 With an almighty, thunderous CLAP!.. another pesky bloodsucker was eliminated from existence. Silence resumed. Only the static like sounds of the insects outside remained, and the faint background hum from the rare moto or truck, that was making use of the empty roads as the others ate, slept, and played cards.

He eventually managed to get a good enough data connection and logged into his messaging app. He'd always been terrible at keeping in touch, but at this time of year, there was no excuses. You can miss all the birthdays you want, and it's all forgotten by Christmas. And that's why you can't skip it.

He scrolled through the pictures that he and Nib took with Finn the week before. They were all dressed head to toe in various shades of red, the closest thing to being Christmassy, that they could manage. He selected three pictures, tagged his family and the extendeds, and wrote a short message which he cringed at within seconds of clicking 'post'.

He hated talking online. He hated talking on the phone as a kid, but these days preferred it to SMS and instant messages. It all felt so impersonal. To many people, he'd quite often come across as self-centered, and uncaring. But to him, his problem was he cared too much in other ways. He cared about wasted the moment he was in, and ignoring the people around him, whilst staring at screens. The past and future are pointless without a present, and the present, was drumsticks. He shot out of his chair, and with determination set off, on a final hunt.

10 He woke the next morning, and was glad to find that the visiting calm hadn't skipped town in the night. The only sounds to be heard were the distant chugging of heavy machinery, the here and there hum of the main road, and his wife rigorously brushing away at the laundry, by the stream that ran down the side of the farm.

She would always wait until everything was dirty, which usually took around a week, and then spend half a day literally attacking it. Lawrie's clothes were thin, frayed and full of holes because of this, and something would always come back worse off for the abuse, but he didn't complain. It wasn't a job he was fond of, and it would ruin the callouses he'd built over the years, making playing guitar a pain. And because he'd rush through it, she wouldn't let him wash any of her clothes, and he couldn't blame her.

He dusted the sleep off, and made his way outside. Ma was sat at the front on one of the two big, heavy, wooden bed frames facing the road, doing her sewing. He never got to the bottom of it, but most ot the houses out here had beds outside, while everyone would sleep on mats on the floor inside, but he never asked and it remained a mystery to him. Too many more important questions still had no answers.

Finn was asleep in the hammock. It was coming to the end of its swing. Lawrie kissed his forehead, and gave him a little push.

Suli, was the Son of Nib's youngest sister, and was the second of Finn's three cousins. For once, he was keeping himself to himself and being nice and quiet. It wasn't his fault he didn't know how to behave, and Lawrie knew that. And with Pa being away today, he probably hadn't drank half an energy drink, like he normally would have by 8am. Lawrie took the string-bound, straw brush, and swept the tiled floor, as he did every morning.

His wife was the eldest of five. The two brothers, and the youngest of her sisters all living on the family farm. The middle sister (the most well-rounded of them all), had the right idea earlier in year, and got the hell out of there. The middle sister's two children, still spent a lot of their time at the family farm, and Suli had lived there all his life. His mum, had done what was expected of her, and left him there while she went back to work, leaving Ma to raise him. At three years old, he was understandably, a handful. But Lawrie couldn't help but worry about him, and feared he had a lifetime of problems ahead. Problems not only for Suli himself, but for the family doing the half a job of raising him. A half job they weren't doing so well.

His top row of front teeth were nothing but black stumps, half decayed, causing him great discomfort. He was almost always covered in dirt. And usually, by the end of the day, had the remains of every meal he'd eaten, still round his mouth. Flip-flops were uncommon, and he rarely wore pants, maybe 3 times in the past few months.

Unfortunately for him, for his first two years of life he was Ma's responsibility. And his problems, Lawrie saw as her fault. The middle sister being back to work, was expected to send money home, while it was Ma's job to play cards and sew whilst raising her grandchild. The same Ma who had done a shocking job with her own children, and it was time to do it again for theirs.

Suli, was toilet trained. But Larwie, expected this lesson was probably taught by the dogs. He would piss anywhere, whenever he needed to go. That was usually from the tiled floor outside the house, and onto the dirt a step below. But if he was upstairs, he'd do it from there. And no one had the slightest of problems with this.

Lawrie quite often, when going around the back of the house where there actually was a toilet, would find someone there. Usually Ma, but sometimes Nib, ten feet away from the toilet, squatting.

Ma was so lazy, in every aspect of life. And she'd passed that on to most of her children. And by the standards that Lawrie had been raised with, she was a truly terrible mother, and in general, a mean spirited person with very little compassion. Lawrie found her unbearable. But at the same time, he just had to deal with it, and knew she didn't know any better. She was never going to learn, and it wasn't really her that he could blame.

The civil war, decades before, that had torn this country apart, had given her parents generation a living hell to endure. An event so disastrous, it's effects still rippled through life to this day.

Her first three children, the sisters, were all left at Grandma's house as soon as they were able to eat mashed up rice soup. This was and is, pretty much 'the norm', for kids over here. Never really knowing their parents as the grow up. Children are seen as laborers, and in a way, sort of like a pension. Breaking your child's heart isn't really an issue, if it means you've been out working.

Now today, the third generation of children are making their way through life, and thanks to this practice, are doing so with their own broken hearts. With a level of distrust only their people know, and with the job one day, of passing this on to their own children.

At the age of fourteen, Nib and her sisters started living with their parents who had got together enough money to by their farm, which was five-hundred kilometers away, up north. Pa built a simple wooden hut, and they called it home. There they would spend the following years learning who their children were, and catching up on all they had missed. And Ma got bigger, as they waited on the birth of their first baby boy. It was time to learn how to be parents.

Soon after baby number four was born, Nib, with a modestly sized bag packed to the brim, was put on a plane bound for Malaysia to work in a factory making mobile phones. She did so with the help of her auntie's passport and was greeted at the airport by another aunt, who also worked there. Over the next two years, she managed to send enough money back to build the beautiful house they live in today.

It was the nicest house in all the village, and probably the neighboring ones too, and it stayed that way for years. Pa was so proud of it, he was so grateful to Nib, and she became his favourite, and he had no worries letting the others knowing it.

When she returned home with her final salary, the house was pretty much complete. Ma was pregnant with Son number two, and with the spare cash, Nib enrolled at school.

11 Lawrie had finished sweeping. The dog had been shooed off from laying on the dinner table, and he was now finishing the picking up and bagging of all the plastic crap his in-laws had tossed on the floor the day before. As he looked around searching for any last stragglers, he noticed that Finn needed another push. But his stealthy dash towards the hammock, turned out to be a mistake.

''Boo Ree!" (Uncle Lawrie) Suli screamed at the top of his highly pitched voice... he'd been spotted, and after doing so well. In the same instance, Finn's eyes pinged open, beaming, to find his father stood over him, startled as Suli's screech was still ringing in his ear. He smiled and raised his arms, and Lawrie followed suit. "Merry Christmas Son".

Suli loved Lawrie, and this was mutual. He hardly ever saw his father, who was even more useless than his mum. Lawrie saw it as his responsibility to look out for him, as no one else seemed to be a positive influence. This wasn't just for Suli's own good, but Finn's too. Raising a child here was a constant worry for him. These bad habits and behaviors, were not for his Son to learn. He desperately needed a plan to get his family out, safely away. And this would need to be a plan even Nib would be happy to go along with, and before he inevitably snapped again.

He placed his bundle into the 8 wheeled, brightly coloured walker thing, and gave him his tambourine, one of the few toys he still had. He didn't like the tambourine so much, but it kept him occupied for a few minutes. Just enough time to build a barricade around the edge of the floor using ten heavy, tree trunk stools. Suli was rolling round on the floor next to him, pant-less and screaming to himself. He made sure all the stools were placed in such a way that Finn couldn't kamikaze off the edge, and headed back to the bedroom to take stock of all he could consume that day. He loved his coffee, and cigarettes too, but was annoyed with himself. He'd practically quit before coming back here. He had promised himself that he would pack them in by the time Finn was born. He failed, and promised again by the time he was six months old. And not far off that time, had got them down to three a day... that was when they moved back, to the madness of the farm. Straight out the window.

$1.10, thirteen cigarettes and a dollars worth of data that yet to be put on the phone. 'It's going to be a good day', a sarcastic joke to himself. He didn't laugh. It wasn't funny. He took 50 cents, and made for the shop, to treat himself.

''Four 3in1 coffees please,'' it was Christmas after all.

Half way through his double strong coffee (it was actually 6 in 2), the clouds in his mind started to clear, and he was ready to take on another jam-packed day of next to nothing.

Finn, still in the walker, had now been let loose on the dusty, red dirt at the front of the house. Lawrie was uneasy with this as the walker was light and flimsy, and flaws in its design made it that going in a forward direction was practically impossible. Almost all the plastic products sold out here, were only ever things that hadn't passed the stringent watch of Chinese quality controls. Finn spent most of his time in that thing, going round in circles, or at very best, doing his famous crab impression, scooting sideways.

Suli was dragging around the frame of an old, crusty pram, that had seen much better days. It was full of rust, had no seat and only one of the three wheel it had left, actually turned. Suli had no toys, the ones he did have, had disintegrated in his hands shortly after being given them... their remains scattered in the dirt.

Outside the front of the house was a huge 30 by 30 meter steel roof, hanging around 20 feet above. Suli and his pram, had made their way beyond the roof's reach, and over to where the overgrown, straggly vegetation had been thriving since that year's rainy season.

Lawrie, had been the only one watching. He put down his coffee, and started walking over, seeing the potential for disaster as Finn chased after. He got as far as calling out Suli's name, with the hope of reeling them back in, when Finn hit a divot in the ground. The walker was sent over sideways, Finn's face smashing into the ground. Lawrie, with a heavy heart picked up speed, blurting out some frankly useless words of comfort as he made his way, to pick him up.

Fountains of tears rolled down little Finn's cheeks, his left one being covered in small stones and dirt, with a few grazes on his chin. His wailing cut through to Lawrie's core, and he felt responsible for not getting there sooner, as he saw it coming.

By this point Ma was screaming too. Lawrie tried to explain to Nib how it wasn't Suli's fault, in a vain attempt the message might get passed on, and Ma would shut her trap. Suli wasn't to blame, he was a child and didn't know any better, and Lawrie knew what was likely to happen next.

Ma, still shrieking had gotten down to Suli's level and was now yelling in his face, slapping his legs, his bare backside.

''Viscous mutt'', Lawrie said audibly, without a care who heard. 'Silly bitch', just wouldn't have cut it, and his choice of words went straight over Nib's head. With his years of being out there, Lawrie had learnt how to best disguise his words of anger and frustration. He sometimes surprised himself with the off-the-cuff, creative expressions his mind would muster up out of the ether.

Ma had now stood up, but was still barking. Suli was in tears and had been almost as long as Finn, who was now in Nib's arms, but still in distress as he watched the animalistic behavior unfold. Ma, taking a thin branch from the sapling of a fruit tree, was snapping off all that once grew from it. Because obviously, providing fruit for your grandchildren, and one day their children, isn't nearly half as important, as whipping a child that's done nothing wrong.

Suli cried in this way, at least four or five times a day. A few months before, Lawrie had counted eight times in one day. He'd seen enough, and headed back to the bedroom with his mixed feeling of anger and helplessness.

If he'd have still had his guitar, he would have been unzipping it's case as soon as he got inside. But he had no guitar these days, and upon spotting a pen on the desk, found a scrap piece of paper, sat down and started writing. And this would be the case over the coming months, a daily compulsion. He couldn't help it, he physically couldn't stop.

12 Maybe an hour had passed and Lawrie was still writing, when he heard the not so distant cry of his boy. Nothing like the sounds he had made earlier, but just him letting the world know he was still upset, in the only way he could. Lawrie looked out of the window to see Finn and Ma on their way back from over the road. 'No surprise he's upset', he thought to himself. He hated seeing Ma walk away with his Son, and was glad he hadn't seen this time, as it would only have played on his mind.

He sat back down to his writing, knowing that Nib was out there and Finn would soon be at ease, filling his not so little belly.

He could overhear a conversation between Nib and her mother. It wasn't difficult, as they only really have two levels of communicating out here, Nib's family especially. Those levels are shouting and screaming, making everything far too easy too hear, and whether you want to or not.

Apparently, Pa was already on his way back, and was four hours away by tractor. He tore open his fresh pack of cigarettes, and threw one in his mouth biting down on the end.

His cigs came in packs on thirteen, cost 12.5 cents, and had a very well know cartoon rabbit eating a carrot, printed on the cellophane bag they came in. ''Maybe it's this one that finally kills me'', he wondered out loud. He stepped outside, and just in time to see the younger sister making off on the moto, Finn under her arm. ''For fuck's sake...''

13 Lawrie was crouched down at the corner edge of the tilled floor, intensely staring down the road as far as he could, in the direction Finn had gone. He was on his second cigarette. As he rolled it between his fingers, the end fell to the dirt below. He put it out with a small piece of chipped concrete and placed the dimp in an empty discarded bottle that was laying next to him.

Looking up, he saw Finn and the sister, with a thick cloud of red dust following after them as they made their return. A huge sigh of relief spilled out from him, he thought it would never end. Any bigger or longer, it might have been worth contacting the people who compile the world record books.

Lawrie hated it. Too much of what they thought of as normal, he saw as an unnecessary risk. He'd had his concerns shouted down already, the first time he saw it happen, and this was just another thing he had to begrudgingly accept. But he promised himself, if she ever caused his Son any harm, he would slap her so silly, it would take them a week to find where she landed.

When the Sun had set, he'd gotten down three full pages of writing. Not a massive achievement, and you wouldn't have mistaken it for Hemmingway (who he knew nothing about, though quite sure he's the Maradonna of writing), but he was proud of the fact that he had achieved a little something.

He'd always enjoyed writing, mainly just songs, the first of which he wrote at the age of eleven after watching an Adam Sandler film. He'd also, always written down the strange thoughts, or scenarios that came into his head. He had no real use for them unless they were to be used in a song, but while growing up, had a few drawers full of scrappy bits of paper with random ramblings of madness scribbled down. He would sort through them one day, but they were all boxed up in his mum's garage back home.

His first song was terrible, and unfortunately, he had come across the only physical reminder of it's existence years later, the lyric sheet. He'd written it on the keyboard he had before he had a guitar. After finding the sheet, the melody came rushing back, regaining it's place and taking up space in his memory. He realised his interest in song writing early on in life, back in primary school when they would sing in assembly. He enjoyed singing, as it was usually better than the rest of their day, and after hearing some bright spark from a few years above, singing 'toilet painted green', during the chorus of Yellow Submarine, he spent his remaining years there trying to out do it.

The Sun was about an hour off setting, and he couldn't delay calling his family any longer. No one that he needed to call, had dependent children, and they were all likely sleeping-in. Their days of cursing Baby Jesus at 5am, covered in wrapping paper, had already been and gone.

He called his Dad who was stuck in Bali, his Mum stuck in the UK, his Grandma stuck in hospital, and his Uncle David who yes, was also stuck. Everyone, everywhere was, trapped wherever they were when the world stopped turning.

David, one of his Dad's half brothers, was in London. His business of delivering butchered meat was doing quiet well through all of the craziness. A good business to be in during times like these, apparently.

His Dad had let him know that his Uncle had sent some money electronically, and that it was waiting to be collected. His Uncle was a good man, as was most of his family, but Uncle David knew Lawrie's situation quite well, as he's come out to visit him not long before the troubles started in the world. Out of most of his family, David had a much better idea of the problems Lawrie was facing.

He knew just how lucky he was for having the family he did, but felt such guilt for not showing his appreciation as much he should. He rarely contacted them, and spent years wishing he had done so more often.

He went with the elder brother, Ren, to collect his lifeline Christmas gift.

Ren was only fourteen, but he rode the motorbike as he did every time, with Lawrie on the back. The in-laws, Pa in particular, were scared of what might happen whenever Lawrie left their hometown. Mainly of the police, who in all fairness were pretty corrupt. But Lawrie, who had left home the first time at the age of fifteen, was pretty savvy, and hadn't ever been in trouble with the law out here. There had been many times, after being stopped by traffic police, that he'd ride away with a new friend he'd just drank a beer with. One time, a police man gave him his fine money back, after seeing how little he had with him. Even though this was, here was tribal land, and he just had to get on with it.

The Sun was half way over the hill when they got back to the farm. Lawrie dished the money out... a little to Ren for the trip, a little more to his wife, and way too much to Ma. She would probably be playing cards tomorrow, but as Pa was still out of town he had no choice. Choices weren't such a big thing here.

14 It was around eight-thirty when Pa arrived home. Dinner had been sat there a couple of hours, waiting on the roar of the tractor, and on his arrival, the younger ones erupted with screams of happiness. Everyone loved Pa, not just the family, but those outside as well.

Lawrie skipped to the shop and bought four cans. They all ate rice, him and Pa drank, and then everyone went to bed. Everyone that was, except for Lawrie. He stayed up researching online, looking at maps of Lombang City. There was a few places that last time, he hadn't managed to get to. He had more than a few things to pick up, and there was a couple of people he was hoping to meet. This time, knowing how long it might be till the next, he had to get as much done as possible. Most importantly, was getting an ID photo... the next step of the only half-decent, long-shot of a plan he had. And thanks to Uncle David, all this was possible, and Finn's first Christmas was back on. And although being a day late, Lawrie couldn't be happier.

15 ...to continue reading, and become one of the hero’s in this story, please donate. All the kind souls that help me out of the situation will receive a full copy once completed, a name-drop on the dedications page, and the knowledge that they’ve helped this story on its way to a happy ending.

www.gogetfunding.com/luckystars

Or to continue reading for free, periodically check back here for updates, and hope for the best disaster ending possible…

Thank you, much love.

Nathan Fryer-Woods

[email protected]

#fiction #autobiography #asia #danger #jungle #fatherhood #illegal aliens #lucky stars

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